The Epic Quest to Mount Button's Mum

by Ficta_Scriptor

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Scootaloo, Sex, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Snips, Featherweight, Other, Romance
Length: 16919

NO INCEST! ~~ Button needs some ponies to help with his new co-op game, but nopony seems interested. That is, until his Mum shows up at school. Now, it seems all sorts of ponies want to stay over...

This fanfic has been cancelled and will not receive further updates. Ever. Apologies to those who were following it.

NO INCEST!

When Button Mash finally gets hold of a new game he is disappointed to find that he needs some co-op buddies. Nopony seems interested at first, but things quickly change when his mother makes a visit to his school. They must just really like video games, right?

Published 2013-08-24 00:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-15 23:04:25 UTC

Chapter 1 - Insert Bit

Chapter 1 – Insert Bit

“Button, did we really need to get here this late? It’s not even open yet.”

“But you don’t understand!” Button exclaimed. “It is my duty as a hardcore gamer to acquire each and every top-tier game the very minute it releases. Do you want me to be a deprived little foal getting scuffed, pre-owned game boxes with bite marks in the manuals for the rest of my life? Do you want your hard earned bits going to the manager’s pocket instead of the developers themselves? Do you!?”

Milano sighed, wiping drearily at her bloodshot eyes. “We could have just as eaily gotten it tomorrow after school.”

“And miss the chance to rub it in all my friends’ faces? Never! We’re talking midnight release! Anyway, who knows how many ponies will show up? I bet we see a queue stretch all the way to Canterlot!”

Button continued bouncing excitedly in front of the game shop window, constantly muttering to himself about how awesome the new game was going to be. As the minutes passed, not a single other pony joined the ‘queue’. Lights all around Ponyville switched off as the citizens drifted into the land of nod, a place Milano almost reached if it wasn’t for her son shaking her wildly as a spotty unicorn store clerk approached the door at the speed of a turtle swimming through treacle. He levitated a key to door and opened the latch, just as Button leapt through, sending the unicorn toppling to the floor.

“Where is it? Where is it!?” Button jabbered as he made a full circuit of the store, peering through display cases and scouring each shelf. “I checked the release date about a million times! It has to be here!”

“Is this the game you’re looking for?” the store clerk asked droningly, holding up a copy of Medal of Duty: Equine Warfare.

“Of course not!” Button shot back. “That series is for chumps and noobs! Not to mention the maps get worse with every game!” He continued searching for another minute or so, finally leaping up with glee while clutching a game case. “I found it! I found it!”

“Then let’s get this over with,” Milano muttered, letting out a yawn. “I need sleep in like, an hour ago.”

Moving like stoned molasses, the store clerk bumbled behind the desk. “Do you have any games you wish to trade in?”

“No!” Button quipped, tapping his hoof impatiently against the floor. “I just want to buy it!”

“Alright, sir. Do you wish to place any pre-orders for upcoming games?”

“No! I don’t!”

The store clerk nonchalantly scratched his chin, flicking a lump of congealed brie onto the floor. “Are you aware that there is a steelbook edition of this game with unlock codes for extra costumes?”

“I don’t care about the extra costumes!” Button blared. “I just want the game!”

“Or how about the enhanced edition? It comes with a soundtrack CD and artbook.”

“No! I don’t want any of that!”

“And are you aware that by buying the strategy guide with the game you can save three bits?”

Button clenched his teeth together and stomped on the ground, his eyes glowing red. “I just want… To play… The game…” he seethed.

“I understand,” the unicorn replied in consistent monotone. “Would you like to apply for a loyalty ca—“

“Just give him the damn game!” Milano yelled, banging a hoof against the desk and sending hundreds of novelty key-rings (that no sane pony would ever buy) into the air. “Do it! Or I’ll killstreak your whole damn family right in front of your eyes! And tea-bag them!”

Trembling, and trying to hide the trail of urine now pooling onto the floor, the stallion complied, processing the transaction in complete silence.

“Thank you very much for your assistance,” Milano chimed in the sweetest of voices. “Now let’s go home, Button. And remember, just half an hour of play-time and then it’s off to sleep. Understood?”

“Just half an hour of sleep. Got it!” Button said as he gazed over the game’s front cover. Super Obscure Japonies RPG: Four Spears Adventures. Just below the title were the words: The fun has been quadrupled! – Princess Luna. Button could hardly wait. This was the game he’d been waiting his entire life for, even if he didn’t know it had existed until five months ago. He stroked the casing, its smooth, plastic cover like rose-scented silk to his awestruck little mind. “This is going to be the best game ever…”

“Now that’s no fair!” Button threw his controller down as the elusive ‘game over’ screen reared its beautifully-rendered head for the fifth time that night. “I was doing great until my AI buddy messed it up! Who uses a shuriken at close range? Nopony! It’s stupid!”

“Time to go to sleep, hun,” Milano mumbled, pausing momentarily for a yawn that never surfaced. “I’m not having you stay up all night again.”

“Sure, whatever,” Button sulked, flicking the power button and plodding to his bed. “It’s a stupid game, anyway. I don’t get why it got a ten-out-of-ten from Eye-Gee-Enn!”

Too tired to even argue against her son’s rudeness in bad-mouthing a game she paid for as a treat, Milano simply shook her head and turned out the light, thankful to finally get some rest of her own. She was never taking Button to another midnight release; that was for sure.

Left to his own devices, Button kept grumbling under his breath. He couldn’t understand it. Four Spears was supposed to be game of the year, every year. What had gone wrong? For a game that relied on AI controlled companions so much, surely more effort could have been put into making it work. This was Resident Pony 5 all over again! Granted, that game was a lot more fun when his brother – Sour Mash – had joined in.

“I just need to find three more ponies,” he muttered under his breath. He could try getting his family to play, but there were some problems with that. Firstly, his Dad was pretty much a no-show. Secondly, his Mum was always too busy doing whatever it was that Mums did. Cooking? Cleaning? Buying shoes? As for Sour Mash, he refused to play games without blood and guns for fear of catching ‘the gay.’ So what then? Button concluded that he had no other choice but to ask some ponies at school. Who could possibly say no to that?

The next day

“Puh-lease, Sweetie Belle!” Button whined. “I’ll even let you be player one!”

“Sorry Button,” Sweetie Belle said with a shrug. “Me and the girls are off crusading again after school. We’re gonna get our cutie-marks in drug peddling!”

“Fine!” Button seethed, trudging off to the other side of the playground. “You suck at games anyway!” He plodded up to Diamond Tiara and Silver Spoon, who were setting fire to bank notes in front of the poor foals and laughing. “How about you two? Wanna come over after school and play Four Spears Adventures?”

“Beat it!” Diamond Tiara snapped, shooing him away with her hoof. “Nopony wants to play your stupid videogames.”

“Snips? Snails? How about you two?” Button asked.

“Nah,” the two colts answered, seeming completely disinterested.

Button threw his hooves up in frustration and plodded along to one of the picnic benches. “I’ve asked everypony in my class,” he muttered under his breath. “Am I doomed to be surrounded by casuals my entire life?” With nothing better to do, Button opened up his satchel and began rooting around for his Game Colt. However, he didn’t have to root around for long as his school-bag was curiously empty. Something was missing…

“My lunchbox!” Button cried, a well-timed growl coming from his stomach. “Now I’m gonna starve to death! Could this day get any worse!?”

At the other end of the schoolyard, Rumble and Featherweight were attempting a world-record for juggling, despite not knowing what the world-record was.

“Three balls?” Rumble exclaimed. “Woah! Slow down, Featherweight! You’re talking crazy!”

“Three balls has to be possible,” Featherweight said determinedly. He glared at the three spherical bean pouches cradled in his hooves, as if trying to psyche them out into doing his bidding.

“Two bits says you can’t do it!” Rumble challenged, holding out a hoof with a sadistic grin. Featherweight scowled, which only seemed to fuel Rumble’s glee. “Come on, buddy. I’m sure you can juggle them just fine. It’d be an easy two bits to make…”

“Okay!” Featherweight conceded, shaking the colt’s hoof and steeling himself. He took a deep breath and tossed two of the balls into the air. With the utmost dexterity and precision, he caught one of them and tossed the remaining ball up, then did so again. This is easy, he thought to himself, wondering for a moment what otherworldy things he could possibly buy for two whole bits.

Just as he was certain that he had this bet in the bag, he noticed a pony wander just outside the fence. A mare, to be exact. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled up as she approached, her flank contracting with each step and accentuating her supple hind legs. Her beautiful, mahogany-shaded mane flowed behind her in the wind like a sexy flag. He could almost taste the soft, caramel-coloured fur covering her body. She was heavenly…

She would just pass them by, of course. No reason for such a pretty mare to hang around by a school. Maybe she’d gotten lost? With one last cheeky glance at the mare’s exposed plot, Featherweight returned his attention to juggling. This held him for about a split second before the mare opened up the school gate and wandered inside, flashing him a cheerful smile.

Featherweight’s balls dropped.

“Ha! You owe me two bits!” Rumble teased, holding out his hoof for payment. When Featherweight didn’t respond he moved his hoof closer and cleared his throat. “Sometime this century would be nice! Uh… Featherweight?”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” Featherweight replied between shallow breaths, wishing upon every star in Luna’s night sky for a glimpse between this mare’s legs. Who was she? A new teacher? Cheerilee was a good teacher already, but if she had to be thrown out and forced to live on the streets to make way for this new pony then he was all for it. But that wouldn’t be necessary, he quickly realised, as the walking sexpot made herself known.

“Looking for this?” Milano said as she reached her disgruntled-looking son, placing the missing lunchbox onto the picnic bench. “You left it in the pantry. Again.”

“Stop it, Mum! You’re embarrassing me! Look at everypony staring!” Button tried pulling his tiny hat over his face in an effort to hide himself.

“But last time you scolded me for having to go a whole day without lunch,” Milano said matter-of-factly. “You’re lucky I found it this time.”

Button buried his head into his hooves. “So I’m doomed to either die of starvation or embarrassment…”

“Now don’t be silly. I’m sure your friends don’t… mind…”

Milano trailed off as three little foals practically appeared in front of her, their teeth bared in uncannily wide grins.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Mash!” they all chimed in unison.

“Likewise, my little ponies,” Milano replied with a smile, turning back to her son. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your polite little friends, Button?”

“Friends? I’ve barely even…”

“The name’s Featherweight, ma’am!” Featherweight said as he pushed out his chest proudly.

“You can call me Snips, my dear lady,” Snips said with a small bow.

“And I’m Scootaloo!”

The two colts’ eyes widened as they turned to their love-struck companion. “Scootaloo!?” They both said aloud, watching as the filly drooled giddily over the sight of Button’s Mum.

“A pleasure to meet you, Featherweight, Snips and Scootaloo. Look after Button for me, won’t you?”

“Uh-huh…” they all mumbled as Milano turned on her hoof and waved goodbye, exposing her rear end in full, beyond-high-definition glory. Their moment of bliss was interrupted by Button waving a hoof in front of their faces.

“What’s up with you guys?”

The three foals shook their heads wildly, slowly coming back to their senses. “Your Mum is so cool,” Scootaloo mumbled.

Button shrugged. “Meh… I guess. Wait… Are you guys here ‘cause you wanna play Four Spears after school?”

“Four spears?” Featherweight asked confusedly, still half-daydreaming about being nestled in Milano’s bosom.

“Yes!” Button exclaimed. “The game I’ve been telling you all about! Argh, fine. If you don’t want to play then—”

“I’ll play! I’ll play!” Scootaloo cried, leaping into the air. “Your place after school, right?”

Featherweight and Snips were confused at first but quickly caught on to Scootaloo’s plans. “Yeah! Me too!” Snips said.

“And me!”

“Really?” Button asked joyfully. “You guys mean it?”

The three foals nodded excitedly. “Uh-huh!”

“Perfect!” Button yelled triumphantly, leaping onto the picnic table. “Steel yourselves, lady and gentlecolts, for we shall embark on the most epic of quests! Get ready to explore the most wondrous of caves!”

“Of course…” Scootaloo mumbled, drool pouring from her mouth.

“And conquer the most tenacious of beasts!”

“Sure…” Snips uttered, his eyes glazed over.

“And plunge our weapons into their soft, pink flesh!”

“Yes! Yes! A million times, yes!” Featherweight shouted, barely clinging onto consciousness.

“Adventure awaits as the final school bell tolls! I hope you’re ready for the epic quest of a lifetime!”

Featherweight smiled cunningly. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter 2 - Before Play

Chapter 2 – Before Play

It was time. No room for errors now. Featherweight gently caressed the beauty at his desk in a sideways motion with the shaft of his purple-tipped crayon, resulting in a soft, night-like shade that made for the perfect backdrop. It was a little technique he’d learned that had a much better effect than simply scribbling haphazardly. His artwork was coming together nicely, a sure-fire A+ grade this time! In the latest of Miss Cheerilee’s religious studies lessons the class had been asked to draw what they thought God looked like. And so, Featherweight drew the first thing that came to his mind. The only thing that came to his mind.

‘God’ was a beautiful mare with a flowing auburn mane and tail, dressed in nothing but a smile. Clothes were unnecessary for ‘God.’ She also happened to be looking over her shoulder, winking, and holding her posterior in the air. That was just how ‘God’ rolled, he had decided. The flank of ‘God’ had been drawn with the utmost precision, each curve carefully crafted and sculpted to the nth degree. Suffice to say, ‘God’ was bucking hot.

Featherweight finished off his work with some pencil-drawn eyelashes and held the picture at leg’s length. It was simply marvellous. Good enough to eat, perhaps. Feeling a sense of pride for having drawn such a work of art he leant forward and kissed it, not caring what anypony else might think.

“Oh don’t stop now,” came a familiar voice. “Don’t I deserve a little more?”

“Who said that?” Featherweight asked aloud, looking around the classroom. All of the other students were diligently scribbling away at their own pictures, not seeming to even register his outburst. Even Cheerilee appeared distant, flicking casually through a book (presumably a horror novel judging by the sweat dripping from her forehead) entitled A Stallion Lives in Your Walls. The voice seemed to have come from nowhere.

“Down here, silly,” the voice said in a sultry tone. “Right in front of your face.”

Featherweight looked down at his desk. To his utter disbelief, the mare in his picture was giggling. “This… This is impossible!”

“Anything’s possible, sweetie,” the bedazzling vixen said with a flick of her tail. “You just need to believe. Why, I bet if you concentrate really hard you could join me right here. Come right into the black void. You’ll like it. Trust me.”

“I… I don’t know,” Featherweight muttered, feeling scared, yet irrevocably enraptured. “Is it safe? I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Then let me be your guide,” the mare said, gesturing with an outstretched hoof. To Featherweight’s amazement, it looked to be reaching out from the picture into the outside world. “I won’t bite. Much.”

Featherweight brought his hoof towards her tentatively. The moment he made contact with her fur the world zoomed past at light speed, his vision blurred by a sea of swirling colours. In an instant, the colours disappeared, giving rise to a never-ending blackness. Featherweight floated through the nothingness, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, when he felt something grab him from behind.

“Hello, Featherweight,” the mare from the picture said as she pulled him towards her. Only now she was more than just a mishmash of pencil and crayon. She floated before him as real as real could be. She smiled, leaned down to his midsection, and traced a meandering path from his midriff up to his neck with her tongue, pulling back as she reached the tip of his chin and licking her lips contentedly.

Featherweight stared blankly for few seconds, his cheeks hot and his nethers taught. “What… What was that for?” he mumbled, his loose mandible interfering with his speech. Thankfully, the mare before him appeared to understand perfectly.

“Why, that’s how I greet other ponies in my world. That’s just how I roll, but don’t tell Button,” she said with a wink.

“I knew it!” Featherweight gasped. “You’re Button’s Mum!”

“I sure am. Now… You’d better reciprocate my greeting. I’d consider it awfully rude if you didn’t.”

“Greeting?” Featherweight asked confusedly.

Button’s Mum nodded. “Just like the one I gave you. In fact it’s extra polite if you start at my thigh and work your way up.”

Featherweight gulped audibly. If it wasn’t for the fact that he was floating in an endless void he was sure that his legs would buckle from sheer anxiety. His heart pounded hard against his chest as he lurched forward breathlessly, zoning in on the mare’s hind leg. Closing his eyes, he made contact with his tongue and began to float upwards, his mouth gliding effortlessly across every ridge and curve on the way to her neck. His eyelids fluttered as his body underwent an unprecedented ecstasy, like microscopic cream cakes bursting across every inch of flesh. He could taste something… fruity. Somewhat tangy. It was virtually indescribable.

“That was good,” Button’s Mum whispered as she wrapped a foreleg around him. “But how about we try something different? We have all the time in the world, don’t you know?”

Before Featherweight could respond Button’s Mum had locked lips with him, running her hooves across his fur without abandon. The colt’s instinctive autopilot took over as all rational thought left his mind.

“Featherweight…”

“Oh, Button’s Mum…”

“Featherweight?” she said in a higher tone.

“Yes?” Featherweight managed to gasp between kisses. “What is it?”

“Featherweight!”

“What do… you want?”

“Featherweight!”

The never-ending darkness and heavenly mare disappeared in a flash as Featherweight leapt up from his desk, the classroom coming back into view. The other students looked at him curiously while Cheerilee stood over him, an eyebrow raised in disgruntled concern.

“If you want to sleep, do it at home,” the dismayed teacher said. “I’ll let you off this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

“Sorry Miss,” Featherweight replied bashfully, pulling his chair back into place neatly under the desk. He wasn’t sure, but he could swear that there was a glob of superglue stuck to the ceiling above. Or was it hair gel? It was difficult to see from this distance.

“I should hope you have at least finished your assignment,” Cheerilee said, picking up Featherweight’s picture and glancing over it. She paused for a moment, as if in deep thought. “What’s with these moist little folds?” she pondered aloud.

“Um…”

Cheerilee deftly unfolded the crumpled paper and wiped away loose globules of saliva. “That’s better. Well… I have to admit, it’s quite the bold representation of God you have here. A colt who envisions an all-powerful being as a mare certainly shows some morals dependent on gender equality. I’m liking the attention to detail, too. You get a B plus.”

Cheerilee passed his desk and wandered over to Scootaloo. “This is a rather similar design to Featherweight’s. Neither of you two were copying from each other, were you?”

The two foals shook their heads. “Of course not!” Scootaloo protested, only just managing to remain seated now that her stool was covered in a mysterious slime. One wrong move could send her flying, though she considered that it might be her only chance to take to the skies after all. That is, unless future events de-canonized that notion.

“Alright, I’ll believe you. B plus for you too.” Cheerilee then moved to Applebloom. The excitable filly looked fit to burst as she handed her drawing over. Cheerilee took one glance and sighed deeply. “Seriously, Applebloom? Your version of God is a pegasus stallion with a long white mane, white beard and white robe who lives in the clouds?”

“Well… yeah.”

“You just drew old-pony Jebediah who sits outside Cloudsdale and talks about ‘the good old days’ when weather manipulation meant fourteen hours of backbreaking work every day for just two bits a year. I’m sorry, but I have to give you a D minus for unoriginality.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks,” Applebloom whined, burying her head in her hooves.

Cheerilee then walked to Rumble’s desk. “What’s this? You’ve left the page completely blank!”

“But I’m an atheist,” Rumble said plainly. “I don’t believe there’s a God, so I didn’t draw one.”

“Oh I see,” Cheerilee exclaimed. “You get an A plus then.”

“What?” Applebloom cried, looking over as Rumble shot her a smug grin. “That’s not fair! Oh Ah’m gonna get you, Rumble!”

Cheerilee couldn’t help but smile to herself over the two foals’ adorable rivalry. She had a gut feeling that their bickering was destined to lead to a passionate relationship, just like the unlikely romance between herself and the stallion that lived in her wall.

Featherweight stared intently at Scootaloo and Snips, (whose drawing of Button’s Mum more resembled a goose than a pony) realising that if he wanted to mount his beloved, he would have to outdo his competition. But what would win over her affections? Just mere flowers and chocolates wouldn’t cut it. He needed to bring out his suave side, and quickly. It was almost time.

The school bell rang out as countless foals cantered cheerily from their classes, chattering and laughing excitedly. For most, it was just the end of a normal, boring school day. But for Featherweight, Scootaloo and Snips, they stood on the precipice of an epic quest. And Button, unknowingly, was their guide.

Applebloom and Sweetie-Belle were unsurprisingly curious about Scootaloo’s newfound interest in video games, especially since she’d never played one before. (Her parents couldn’t afford to pay for a games console, mostly because they were dead)

“Are you sure you won’t come crusading with us?” Sweetie-Belle asked for the third time. “We’re sure to get our cutie-marks this time. I can just feel it!”

“Sorry girls,” Scootaloo said with a shrug. “I’ve got a feeling that my special talent is video games. We can meet up again later this week, promise.”

“Well alright,” Sweetie-Belle replied. “We’ll put off our plans for another time. Applebloom?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go play hide and seek with the thing that lives in the woods.”

Scootaloo said her (potentially last) goodbyes before racing to Button Mash. Featherweight and Snips were stood beside him, smiling and nodding whilst completely ignoring his opinionated rant about the state of gaming. As Scootaloo joined the fray, Button’s eyes lit up.

“Alright!” he exclaimed. “All four of us are here! Let’s get moving to my place. I can hardly wait to experience Four Spears the way it was intended to be played: with three random acquaintances!”

The quartet cheerfully trudged their way through the streets of Ponyville. Featherweight and Scootaloo shot each other fierce, knowing looks in an attempt to psyche each other out. They were both determined to attain dominance over Button’s Mum, and it was obvious who the main competition was. Snips just didn’t stand a chance. The chubby little moron was muttering a song under his breath, something about somepony who had it going on.

“So Snips,” Button began, taking a rare break from talking about sinful DLC offers. “I’ve always wondered, what’s your cutie-mark for?”

“Oh that,” Snips said with a chuckle. “When I was six years old I circumcised myself with a pair of scissors. Did a pretty good job too, according to my sister. Eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when she saw it.”

“Circumcised?” Button exclaimed.

“Yup. It must run in the family or something. I know my Mum said something about her youth, where forced female circumcision was on its way to becoming quite a problem in those days. Thankfully, they nipped that in the bud. No problems since.”

Button smiled awkwardly, pretending to understand what he’d just heard. “Uh… great. Hey, we’re almost to my place.” He led the three lustful foals along a stone path towards his front door. “This is going to be so awesome!”

You have no idea, Featherweight, Scootaloo and Snips thought in unison. They each steeled themselves in preparation as Button knocked on the door. This could very well be make or break. Only one would triumph. They each took a deep breath as the door crept open. Button’s Mum was behind there. They would need to be strong. They would need to be tenacious. Most of all, they would need every ounce of courage and willpower that they could muster if they were to conquer Mother Mash. But it would all be worthwhile. All three pulled out their best smiles, confident that they would be victorious this day.

“Oh hello,” Button’s Mum said as she opened the door, a jug in her left hoof. “What great timing for your friends to visit! I have all this milk. I made it fresh just this morning!”

Scootaloo slumped into a newly formed squelchy puddle.

Snips foamed at the mouth uncontrollably.

Featherweight passed out in an instant.

Milano Mash furrowed her brow. “Was it something I said?”

Chapter 3 - Come Inside

Chapter 3 – Come Inside

“Featherweight? Are you alright? Can you open your eyes?”

“Wow, what a dweeb,” Button remarked callously.

“Button Mash! That is no way to talk about your friends!”

There was nothing but endless blackness at first, familiar voices floating somewhere in the distance. Slowly, Featherweight’s vision began to return. At first it was just a mishmash of colourful blobs surrounded by a blinding light, but shapes began to solidify. There were two pairs of eyes, one of which disappeared beneath him. The second pair, however, stayed focused on his, staring into his very soul. He knew that face. And that flank. Oh sweet Celestia on a stick, dat flank.

“God?” he whispered feebly, reaching towards the luscious mare before him.

“God?” Milano chuckled to herself. “I’m afraid not, cutie. It’s Mrs Mash, remember? Button’s Mum?”

“O-of course!” Featherweight exclaimed, trying desperately to regain composure. Though that was easier said than done with a living, breathing wet dream stood over him. He could see now that he’d been taken into the Mash family home and was led in the middle of the living room. Snips, Button and Scootaloo were sat in the sofa opposite with milk and cookies. Scootaloo was practically chugging the white stuff, gasping for moisture — any moisture — to replace those vital lost fluids. Snips had his eyes on the prize and swayed from side to side dizzily. Button sat between them, sporting an expression that said ‘buck my life.’

Mrs Mash, eh? Featherweight thought to himself, a plan forming in his mind. He had the Ponak 3000 ultra-zoom camera in his schoolbag. Sure, it was just for school news reports, but with that said he had a rather nice idea for a page three picture… Wait. Did she just… Yes! She did! She called me ‘cutie’! She definitely called me ‘cutie’! She wants me! It’s obvious!

“You don’t look so well,” Button’s Mum said worriedly, bringing a foreleg to Featherweight’s temple. “Let me just check your temperature.”

The besotted young pegasus took a deep breath as he made his first physical contact with Button’s Mum. If he had his way, it would be far from the last. Alright, hotshot, he muttered inwardly. Now’s your chance. Blow her away with your swagger and watch as she becomes mere putty in your hooves. Do it!

Featherweight cleared his throat, putting on the most confident smile he could muster. For a brief moment, he thought he could see a faint blush on her cheeks. Good. He stared deeply into the eyes of his beloved and uttered the most charming, most seductive thing that he could manage to bring to his lips.

“Is there Mister Button’s Mum?”

Milano stepped back, raising her eyebrows and giving him an odd look. “It… doesn’t seem like you have a temperature, but do let me know if you start feeling light-headed again. And remember, it’s Mrs Mash.”

Featherweight face-hoofed hard enough to break a thousand capillaries. He’d bucked up and he knew it. “I will, Mrs Mash.”

“You alive yet?” Button called from the other side of the room. He sat with his hooves crossed angrily, staring daggers at Featherweight. “How am I going to play Four Spears when one of my companions can’t stay conscious for more than a minute!? Maybe I could convince Rumble to—”

“No!” Featherweight cried, leaping to his hooves. There was no way he’d lose his only connection to the Mash household. That was the game, right? Play along with what Button wanted, earn the family’s trust, and then WHAM! He’d have his way with the sexiest genetic time capsule on the block. “I’m fine, honest.”

“Then let’s start this thing!” Button leapt down from the sofa with newfound vigour and began walking towards his room. “I can hardly wait for this! Come on, guys.”

Featherweight hesitated for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Button’s Mum. “Don’t you want to play with us, Mrs Mash?”

“Oh, thanks for the offer,” she chimed back with a sweet smile. “But I’m far too busy with laundry and making the dinner. You kids go on and play your games.”

“It’s not like she could play anyway,” Button scoffed. “I mean, hello, it’s not called Five Spears Adventures.” He carried on down the hallway as Scootaloo brushed past Featherweight, a devilish grin on her face.

“Oh, what’s that?” she whispered evilly. “Only four players? So if one of us was out of commission, say, because they kept fainting, that’d mean Mrs Mash would have to play. And then one thing would lead to another and… Oh look at this.” Scootaloo gestured towards the kitchen where Button’s Mum sat, sifting through a laundry basket. A coat. A jacket. A nurse outfit. A red thong…

Featherweight suddenly felt weak at the knees, his heart racing with untold fervour. He’d always liked nurses. Ever since his tetanus jab when he was eight years old and Nurse Redheart dropped a thermometer under a cupboard, only to spend about ten seconds or so with her plot in the air, swaying from side to side as she searched desperately for it. She thought he’d blacked out because of the injection, but that was never the truth. That image was ingrained in his memory with permanent ink. And now it was all coming back to him.

There was a thud as Featherweight’s head hit the wall. The world was spinning like a monstrous merry-go-round, Scootaloo’s laughter in his ears. With one great burst of effort he stood upright and followed after the two colts, shooting an angry glance at his competitor. Scootaloo had the upper hoof now, it seemed. She knew how weak he was, and more to the point, how could he hope to mount Button’s Mum if he couldn’t even stay conscious in her presence? It was a troubling thought, but far be it to deter him from his goal.

“I’m glad you guys aren’t like my other friend,” Button explained as they reached his room. “On and on, every day he calls me names for playing on consoles. So what if I don’t play on a computer with sixty four gigabytes of ram and twelve graphics cards? Yet all he does is brag about how awesome the graphics are and how I’m such a loser.”

“Sounds impressive,” Snips commented. “What does he play on it?”

“Pone-craft, Mare-arria and… Actually, I think that’s it. He did play Forelega Three for one day just so he could take screenshots and claim bragging rights, but he stopped playing after that.” Button pushed open the door and rushed to his console excitedly. “Now, the game manual is only three sentences long and written in crayon on a business card so we’ll need to do the tutorial before you know what you’re doing. Make sure you can all do advancing guards, parries and quick-swap dual wielding without fail. Alright, let’s do this.”

Button booted the game up and the other three foals took their places next to his bed, clutching awkwardly at their controllers. They all looked between themselves worriedly. So many buttons, arrows and twirly little sticks. How in the name of Celestia’s intergalactic flying sombrero were they supposed to play this with hooves!?

Button pointed towards the screen as a cinematic played showing a death battle between a twenty foot tall mechanised tentacle monster and a thirteen year old filly in a pink miniskirt. It was Japonies, alright.

“Now there are four characters, and since I’m player one I’m choosing who each of you should play as. I’ll be playing as Alex Blaze, of course, since he’s overpowered to the point of spam-tastic brilliance. Scootaloo can play as Ally, the red and black alicorn from Alicornlandia. Her special attack is the alicornado. Snips, you can take Tyrone, the giant, mare-eating spider with a heart of gold. As for you, Featherbrain—”

“Featherweight,” the disgruntled pegasus rasped.

“Right, whatever. You get to be Brad, the waifu stealer.” Button’s gaze intensified. “Nobody likes Brad.”

Featherweight clenched his hilariously disproportionate buck teeth in anger. Now Button was against him? Sure, he’d conked out on his doorstep and had to be revived, but that was small beans. And speaking of which…

“Scootaloo, stop touching yourself and play the game!” Button yelled.

“But I have an itch!” the filly cried in defence. “And it just won’t go away!”

“Just ignore it! I’ve been waiting a lifetime to play this game and I won’t allow for any more delays!”

Snips held up his controller in a yellowish aura and began tapping in a button combination. In response, Tyrone the spider webbed up an enemy ninja mare and bit her head clean off. “I think I’ve got the hang of this now,” he said proudly.

“Hey, no fair!” Featherweight shouted. “It’s gotta be like, ten times easier with magic!”

“Oh, shut your trap,” Button chided. “Just because he can use magic doesn’t mean he’s any better than you, just like you guys having wings doesn’t make you any better than me! Pegasus? Unicorn? Who cares? It’s like my Dad always says, earth ponies are like some sort of master race.”

Featherweight and Scootaloo gulped in unison. Button’s… Dad!? There were plenty of family photographs on the walls and window sills, but aside from Button, his Mum, and an older looking stallion that was presumably Button’s brother, there had been no sign of a father. In fact, Featherweight had presumed him to be dead since there was no sign of him. Oh please be dead, please be dead, please be dead…

“So Button, how is your Dad these days?” Featherweight asked anxiously.

“Oh, Dad?” Button looked at the floor sadly. “He’s no longer here.”

Featherweight and Scootaloo breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.

“He should be back soon, though,” Button continued. The two pegasi promptly gasped. “He’s off with some friends right now, something called a ‘writers group’ meeting. He does a lot of fiction writing these days. He has this name he goes by, I forget what it is, but I think it’s Latin for ‘fiction writer’ or something.”

This is bad, Featherweight thought to himself as the four ponies continued their virtual trek through the Velvet Grove, took a ride on the Pink Canoe into the realm of the Meat Grinder and faced the might of The Wound That Never Heals. How could he have been so stupid? Button’s Mum was a married mare and nothing was going to change that. It was a lost cause.

Just as hope seemed all but lost, Button’s Mum came in through the door with a tray of treacle tarts, humming a cheery tune to herself. She placed the tray down in front of them. “Dinner is going to take a little longer than expected, so I thought you kids might like a nice treat in the meantime.” She smiled brightly at the foals before her. “I hope you like them!”

“Whatever, Mum!” Button scowled. “Just leave us in peace! We’ve almost gotten to the Salt Cellar!”

Featherweight could hardly believe his eyes. Treacle tarts? There wasn’t a single piece of food in all of Equestria that he loved as much as treacle tarts. Eagerly, he leapt forward and stuffed one into his mouth. As the taste fastened its grip around his tongue, his eyes widened. What he held between his cheeks was the most delicious, delectable and positively scrumptious bundle of carbohydrates ever conceived by pony-kind. And it was all thanks to Button’s Mum. This couldn’t just be a coincidence. He could feel it in his thin little bones, with no shred of doubt in his mind. Button’s Mum was his destiny.

So then, something needed to be done. Who cared about the fact he would be trying it on with a married mare? If Button’s Dad was stupid enough to not spend every waking moment worshipping his wife’s flank then he didn’t deserve to be with her. Featherweight nodded in affirmation as his spirit was reinvigorated. Button’s Dad was history.

The four foals continued playing for another two hours or so, their skills eventually improving beyond ‘press X forever.’ In fact, Featherweight had truly begun to enjoy himself. As far as he was concerned, with every battle won he would be another step closer to the greatest triumph of all. Bit by bit, he would convince Button’s Mum that he was the pony she should be with.

Once it started getting dark outside Button’s Mum told them all it was probably time they’d gone home or their parents would be worried sick. “Yeah. Parents. Suck it, Scootaloo,” Featherweight whispered to the downtrodden filly once they’d left the Mash household. He couldn’t risk being nice to his competition, regardless of the factthat she burst into tears and ran to the orphanage, falling face-first into a mud puddle along the way. And once the whole ‘dead parents’ jibe lost its impact he could just pull the ‘crippled wings’ card and fly off into the distance, laughing all the while. It was win-win.

After arriving home (and explaining to his terrified parents where he’d been all this time, since he’d never bothered to let them know earlier) Featherweight leapt into bed with the biggest smile on his face. He had an idea. An idea that even Button couldn’t say no to. He knew where his Dad’s secret stash of bits was, and that was exactly what he needed. As for the venue, he would have time to hone his skills before that overrated Four Spears game (which only got ten out of ten on Eye-Gee-Enn because the reviewers there are unabashed fan-pleasers too afraid to criticise, like a Bizarro world McShea) was finished. Oh, but that wasn’t everything. He would need the D. In fact, he would need two Ds. Two Ds for Button’s Mum. And an R. Oh yes… Things were about to get very interesting.

Chapter 4 - Fourth Base

Chapter 4 – Fourth Base

The next few weeks went by swiftly, the promise of the horizontal limbo forever burning in the distance, just waiting to be reached. Featherweight was becoming more sure of himself with each passing day, his so-called ‘competition’ making no progress in the slightest. It didn’t matter how much Scootaloo begged and pleaded; Button’s Mum didn’t believe a filly could get her cutie mark in gynaecology. Snips barely seemed to be trying anymore, gazing drearily at her plot while nursing a semi. No hope for him indeed.

Featherweight, on the other hoof, had been hard at work. Despite spending most evenings after school playing Four Spears with Button, he’d been training in secret at the local arcade, honing his DDR skills to perfection. With the help of a mysterious mentor by the name of Ebbin McFlow, (A trash-talking, no nonsense, hard balling private investigator with a heart of gold) Featherweight underwent several cheesy montages to become the DDR champion of Ponyville.

As always, there was the need to endure sessions of Four Spears with the ever commanding Button. Whenever he wasn’t spouting orders to the other players and crying with frustration at every loss, (or jumping for joy when finding a high-class item before effectively banning its use because ‘we might need it later on’ which effectively became ‘never’) he prattled on about some new gaming system called the Ponystation 4 that he’d gotten a chance to play at a rich uncle’s house. From what Featherweight could understand, he’d played a game called Hillzone Cattle Fall where you chase an often difficult to see orange circle until an owl scans the location of the next orange circle for you to find, all while blasting away at shouty stallions with laryngitis. It was supposedly very good, except for one stealth section that was seemingly designed by intellectually stunted foals who played hide and seek for five minutes and decided to make a game out of it.

Featherweight’s plan was simple. All he had to do was assimilate himself into the role of Button’s friend, all while enticing Button’s Mum along, which he hoped he was doing. And then, once the accursed Four Spears was dealt with, he would suggest a little trip to the arcade, inviting his beloved along for the ride. Once she witnessed his lightning quick dance moves to ‘End of The Century’ and ‘Dead End’ she’d have no choice but to divorce her (strangely absent) husband and leap into bed with him. Or maybe just the leaping into bed part. Featherweight couldn’t care less otherwise. It would almost be worth it just to hear Button call him ‘Dad.’ But mostly the part where he got to plunder country orange. That was crucial.

After several weeks of play, the four foals wielding the four spears had reached the game’s fourth and final enemy base, housing the final boss: a giant pink tentacle. Suffice to say, it was hard. Numerous attempts were made, only for the would-be heroes to get impaled against the walls over and over again.

“You guys keep breaking formation!” Button yelled, pointing accusingly at his comrades. “And what’s with your attack patterns? You can’t just rush in, pounding it as fast as you can right from the get-go! We begin slowly, and then build our pace. Otherwise it’ll just get irritated without weakening!”

“But my hoof is getting tired,” Scootaloo moaned, dropping the controller to the floor and rubbing her pained foreleg. “Can’t we take a break for a little while? Your Mum might need help with something.”

“For the hundredth time, no!” Button yelled. “We’re trying again, and this time, don’t screw up!”

Featherweight knew the real reason for their consistent failures. As far as Scootaloo and Snips were concerned, once the game was over, so was their chance to be around Button’s Mum. They would intentionally ruin the group’s chances of beating the final boss, hopeful that they could stay for as long as they could keep it up. Button had never referred to any of them as ‘friends’, only as ‘co-op partners.’ So what was stopping him from discarding them like unwanted pre-order codes that gave players extra weapons and significant advantages, thus ruining a potentially challenging and enthralling experience, just like the Duel Ex: Equine Revolution special edition? Nothing. They could be cast out at the drop of a teenage cheerleader’s plot. But Featherweight needed them to win, and at just the right time…

“Okay, let’s set things straight,” Button said as he stroked his chin, pacing back and forth in front of the three other foals. “There’s already a stallion in Japone who’s beaten the game on ‘New Game plus’ in full co-op mode, using one hoof per controller. And yet we are still struggling to even beat the last boss!”

“Oh, that’s just because he has no life,” Scootaloo harrumphed. “Anypony could do that if they gave up everything and practiced all day.”

“That’s irrelevant!” Button blasted. He pressed his hooves to his forehead. “And this is all just too much. When I asked you all to play this game with me, it was so I could finally enjoy it properly. But you know what? I’m not enjoying replaying the same gosh-darned boss over and over again. So I’m giving up. That’s it. Just go.”

The three foals gawped in unison. “What!?”

“I’ll just go back to playing solo,” Button said, rolling his eyes at the outburst. “I’ve read the walkthrough and apparently the AI reacts a lot better to the boss’s attack patterns.” He shook his head and sighed disinterestedly. “I just don’t need you anymore.”

“You can’t be serious!” Featherweight cried, already envisioning his plan slipping between his hooves. How can I go without seeing his Mum’s beautiful face and incredible flank? I can’t just spend the rest of my life in bed playing ‘make the white water come out’! It’s not enough!

“But… surely I can still come see you, right?” Scootaloo questioned, grabbing Button by the shoulders.

“What’s the point?” he said with a shrug.

“Oh please!” Scootaloo begged, latching onto Button with a vice-grip cuddle. “I can’t handle the thought of not being with you! You’re better than those cutie mark crusaders! You don’t write ‘Scootabuse’ fanfics when you think I’m not looking! Please!”

Button’s eyes darted across the room as he tried to formulate a response, his cheeks glowing red as Scootaloo refused to let go, her hind legs wrapped around his waist. “But I… I can… Solo play… Don’t need…”

“But Button,” Scootaloo whispered, flashing her eyelashes. “Coming to see you is what I look forward to everyday. It is what I dream about. Please don’t take that away from me. I’ll do anything,” she said seductively, licking her lips.

Button gulped loudly, his breathing shallow as Scootaloo clenched him harder. “Oh… okay…”

“What!?” Featherweight scowled as Scootaloo dropped the bashful colt to the floor, smirking at him as she sauntered across the room. But this doesn’t make any sense! Featherweight thought. Who does she think she is seducing Button like that? And I was so sure Button was gay. How else do you explain why he doesn’t have an Oedipus complex!?

Button slowly clambered to his hooves, recoiling as Scootaloo gave him a sultry wink. “Well… I guess that’s that. Scootaloo can watch and… you two can leave.”

“But we’ve come so far,” Snips said, looking glumly to the floor. “Don’t say that our journey hasn’t meant anything.”

“It was fun while it lasted, but now I need to take care of things on my own.” Button shrugged. “We’ll always have the battle on Droopy Drop.”

Featherweight could hardly believe his ears. This couldn’t be happening. Not after all his work, all his effort, he hadn’t gotten his chance to impress Button’s Mum. And worst of all, Scootaloo had found a way to stay with the Mash family for as long as she liked. Featherweight could almost hear the future boasting of her escapades in the bedroom (epic three-ways were inevitable) and it made him sick. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing…

“Evening, my little ponies,” Milano said as she opened the bedroom door, a platter full of treacle tarts balanced on one hoof. “Could I interest you in a little snack?”

Featherweight took one of the delicious treats, looking up to the most beautiful mare in the land. As amazing as the treacle tart tasted, it could not match a being like her. And now he’d been given a death sentence. Button had taken the one thing that meant everything and given Scootaloo the backstage pass. It was now or never…

“Button, wait!” Featherweight cried.

“What is it?” Button snapped.

“All four of us should try just once more. We know where we went wrong, and I’m sure we can beat it this time.”

“Yeah right,” Button scoffed. “I already made my decision, Featherbrain.”

“Then how about I make this more interesting?” Featherweight said with a burst of confidence. “If we lose, I’ll give you ten bits and leave you alone as you wish. But if we win…” Featherweight looked to Button’s Mum as she stared back curiously. “If we win, then I get to stay as your friend we all go to the arcade, and I’ll pay for ten bits worth of games. That is, if your Mum would offer to take us.”

Milano smiled back in an instant. “I have no problem with that. It’ll give me a chance to stretch my legs a little.”

Oh I’ll be stretching your legs in all kinds of ways, Featherweight thought as he uttered a silent ‘thank you’ to the heavens. He turned back towards Button. “So what do you say?”

Button stroked his chin thoughtfully for a few moments. “So either way, I get ten bits worth of games?”

“Exactly!” Featherweight exclaimed. “And we’ve all come so far. It’d be the mark of a true noob to give up now. And you’re not a big casual noob, are you?”

“Well in that case, you’re on!” Button said as he booted up the game once more. “But if we lose, it’s game over for you two!”

“Button!” Milano scolded, a fearsome frown appearing on her face. “Are you threatening to abandon your friends over a video game? Again!? What have I told you?”

Button let out a sigh. “You told me to never put digital entertainment before my friends, no matter how revolutionary its design or how amazing the gameplay is, not even if it has dinosaurs and giant robots that turn into tanks. Friends are for life and games are for hyping for six months, enjoying for six days and then never touching again.”

“That’s an oddly specific promise,” Snips commented confusedly. “But then again, my sister made me promise never to dismantle the shower head. I guess that’s just life.”

Milano gave the group another smile. “Just give me a call as soon as you need taking to the arcade.”

“Don’t you mean, if we need taking?” Button asked.

Milano didn’t answer. Instead, she smiled and winked, then closed the door behind her. She just winked at me, Featherweight said inwardly as the game was booted up once more. She definitely winked at me. No doubt about it. She wants me to win. She definitely, definitely winked. Featherweight sighed contentedly, getting his hooves in position to beat the boss once and for all. Or maybe she blinked, but it looked like she was winking because ponies have eyes on the sides of their head and I only saw one of her eyes. Well, buck it anyway! That’s good enough for me! We’re going to win! We’re going to—

Ten minutes later

“We… we lost?” Featherweight muttered sadly. “But I… but we…”

“Oh don’t cry, little baby,” Scootaloo sneered. “You’re not the first buck-toothed anorexic to fail at life.”

Featherweight fumed with anger. How dare the hopeless orphan cripple insult him!?

“We didn’t lose,” Button chided. “The game’s just doing some cop-out moment where it looks like all hope is lost but then the main character, Alex Blaze, suddenly gains a ridiculous amount of power from a tarot card and saves the universe.”

“Wait, really!?” Featherweight exclaimed.

“Yeah, they’ve done it in a few other games,” Button explained. “Like the one my cousin used to cosplay for. That is, until she stood up on stage at an expo and shouted PONYSONA before blowing her brains out. She still won first prize though. Those were tough times for me, mainly because the next game in the series got cancelled. It took me months to get over that.”

“But how did you know this game would do the same?” Featherweight asked.

“Because I watched all the videos on ponytube. How else do you think I knew those secret tactics?”

Featherweight thought over this for a moment, a grin appearing on his face. “So this means I won my bet? We can go to the arcade?”

“So long as you have the bits,” Button said with a smirk. “You did promise me.”

“Of course,” Featherweight replied, gleefully fondling his bits in Scootaloo’s face. He pocketed the money into his jacket. “I’m a colt of my word.”

“I don’t know what you’re up to,” Scootaloo seethed in a hushed tone. “But it doesn’t make a difference. You are going down.”

“I know,” Featherweight whispered smugly. “I’m going down. Then up. Then down again. Then up again. All night long.”

“I don’t think so, Featherbrain. You keep your bony little hooves off ‘cause she’s mine.”

Button switched off the games console, unaware of the bickering foals a few feet away. He removed the disc and placed it delicately into its game case with a satisfying click. What he held in his hooves represented an experience, nay, a journey. He would never get those hours back, but that didn’t seem to matter. They were irreplaceable. They were special. He had lived and learned and conquered challenges beyond his known capabilities. It was more than just a spiral of ones and zeroes that displayed images and made sounds. It was a physical representation of precious memories, a token by which those memories could once again flourish in the form of nostalgia. It could be handed down like a baton through the ages, so that his children and his children’s children may be able to enjoy its beauty and return to an era from whence they had never existed. And most importantly of all, he could get three bits worth of trade-in value for it at Gameshop. Who could possibly regret that?

“Are you ready, my little ponies?” Button’s Mum called from outside the door.

“Just a second!” Button snapped, snatching the ten bits out of Featherweight’s hoof. “It’s all your fault my Mum is coming with us,” he said with a scowl. “I don’t know about you but I am an independent colt, like The Pone Ranger.” Turning on his hoof Button stormed out with his head held high, only to catch his hoof on the door’s edge with a painful thunk. And then came the screaming.

“Button?” Milano said concernedly. “Are you alright?”

“No! It hurts… It hurt so mu-huh-huh-huch! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“Oh you poor thing. Let Mummy kiss it better for you.” Milano planted a small kiss on the colt’s hoof. “There. Does that feel better?”

“A little,” Button mumbled, tears still streaming down his face. “But… But I don’t think I can walk. I might need a piggyback ride.”

“Wish I’d thought of that,” Scootaloo muttered under her breath.

As Featherweight and company made their way to the Ponyville arcade, the hopeful pegasus practically leaping for joy, the foals failed to notice the eyes of a stallion watching them from across the hall, peering out from behind a door left slightly ajar. He listened intently as Button’s wails became quieter and quieter until the front door was slammed shut, leaving him with no sound but his own thoughts.

Button’s Dad took a deep breath. He had work to do.

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long, guys and gals. Life got in the way. The next update will be ready much sooner.

Chapter 5 - Deep Dark Runway

Chapter 5 – Deep Dark Runway

“Hey everyone, I have a joke,” Snips said aloud as the group plodded through Ponyville Proper. “Where does a pirate play games? In an arrrrrcade! Get it? Isn’t it funny?”

“Oh, good one, Snips!” Milano said with a fake grin as Button, Featherweight and Scootaloo rolled their eyes in unison. “You might make a great stand-up comedian one day.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a walking joke,” Button mumbled under his breath.

“Oh I know lots of jokes,” Snips beamed, mishearing Button completely and prancing along, still giddy from Button’s Mum’s compliment. “Like, what does a pirate spread on his toast? Marrrrrmalade. Where does a pirate like to hang out? At a barrrrr. Where does a pirate keep his money? In a jarrrrr. Did you like that one Mrs Mash? Did you? Did you?”

“Er… yes, of course. But maybe it’s best to make up jokes in your head for now.”

“Oh, of course!” Snips said with an enthusiastic nod. “How else would I become a world class stand-up chameleon if I use up all my best jokes before the show?” His voice grew quiet as he began singing a song to himself. “Milk, milk, lemonade, around the corner, kids are made… La-de-da…”

Though Snip’s horrendously embarrassing attempts to court Button’s Mum didn’t bring a smile to Featherweight’s face, the Ponyville arcade coming into view certainly did. Just outside, food vendors and market stalls were set up all across the street, selling tasty treats and various wares. Featherweight held his pouch of coins, flirting with the idea of nabbing a gift for his beloved. I could get her something nice, he thought to himself. Maybe some candy floss, a toffee apple, a packet of crisps, a jam sandwich, an ice lolly, a bum bag, a novelty flannel, or maybe a pack of chocolate biscuits. If only I was old enough I could nab some plonk. But Featherweight quickly dismissed the allure of items which — for one reason or another — he’d identified using strictly British terms. His money would be better spent in the arcade.

“Looks like we’re here,” Button’s Mum announced.

“Finally!” Button remarked, leaping from his mother’s back and bounding out in front, having apparently forgotten about his so-called ‘injury.’ He held the bits previously won from Featherweight with foalish glee.

“Remember I’m keeping an eye on you,” Button’s Mum called as her son bounded through the archway to the arcade. “No playing that House of The Deceased or you’ll be having nightmares again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise,” Button shouted back indignantly, hurrying his way towards a nearby cabinet with House of The Slightly-Wounded written on the side.

Milano rolled her eyes. “Okay everypony. Be sure not to run off and get into any trouble. You’re my responsibility right now.”

“Yes Mrs Mash,” the three ponies chimed in unison.

Featherweight stepped inside with the other two foals and took a deep, delighted breath. He could smell the victory that lay within his very grasp, not to mention the stench of sweaty forty-something year old stallions hunched in front of fighting game cabinets with a notepad full of frame data, the faint whiff of vomit encrusted on the carpet and the heavenly aroma of Button’s Mum, the only doable mare within five hundred yards.

The place was practically bustling from corner to corner. A group of teenage mares doddered giddily from a booth housing an interactive, hydraulic dating sim from Japone titled High Speed Mega Max Ultra Super Fun Time Yeah 2: Onii-chan! One-chan! Shh Dad Will Hear Us Desu, falling from left to right and panting profusely as they finally took control of their hind legs once more. On the other side of the room a lonely stallion in tattered rags kissed his last coin, seemingly under the impression that the kart racer he was playing would dispense money if he came in first. The newly installed Whack-a-Rabbit seemed extremely popular amongst a group of screaming toddlers, who were completely unaware that a real rabbit (who the coroner would later identify as ‘Angel bunny’) had been installed into the machine by mistake. And then there was Ebbin McFlow, the tough seapony detective who specialised in catching coral thieves and shark-baiters, and had helped to train Featherweight in the ancient art of DDR. His ‘transfer’ to the arcade aquarium via air mail was apparently a mistake, and his comrades were on their way to rescue him any minute now for the past twelve years.

“Wot’cha, Featherweight?” the fedora-wearing seapony greeted from inside the fish-tank. “Brought some friends along this time, I see.”

Featherweight quickly checked if anypony else was within earshot. “And if all goes to plan, maybe a little more than friends.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Ebbin scratched his chin with one fin, looking on in slight bemusement. “Seriously? Well, whatever floats your boat, I guess. Can’t say I see the appeal, even if he has had the most astonishingly beautiful circumcision.”

“What? No! That’s Snips, you idiot!” Featherweight blasted. “I’m talking about her,” he said proudly, pointing towards Button’s Mum.

Ebbin’s eyes grew wide and fearful. “Whoa, I don’t mean to be a party pooper, but you’re better off just giving up and turning around.”

Featherweight snickered. “What? Are you kidding me? She’s the most curvaceous, most beautiful, most innocence-crushing, cherry-popping goddess in all of Equestria!”

“I’m not disputing that,” Ebbin said assuredly. “I’d still have half a mind to leap out onto dry land and spend my last few breaths flopping about over her honeypot, but I don’t. She’s married.”

“So what!?” Featherweight exclaimed, crossing his forelegs angrily. “It’s up to her who she wants to be with, and if she loves him oh so very much, why is he never around?”

“Listen good, kid,” Ebbin whispered, swimming closer to the glass. “Button’s Dad is… something else. He doesn’t just love his wife. He’s completely obsessed with her. She means literally everything to him. He writes stories about her, and he’s even tried buying a toy plushie of her to enjoy when she’s not around. I hear many a tale swimming around these tanks and anypony who’s anypony knows never to go after the untouchable one, lest you fall prey to a terrible fate.”

“W-what fate?” Featherweight asked nervously.

Ebbin held a fin to his lips. “I shouldn’t wish to taint young ears such as yours with untold horrors such as these. Deep, dark, evil things.”

Featherweight gulped audibly. “R-really?”

“Well maybe not that bad,” the seapony said with a shrug. “The guy’s just too darn polite to torture or maim or kill. But he might fill your boots with custard or put cling film over your toilet seat. He doesn’t take kindly to waifu-stealers!”

“Well I don’t care!” Featherweight declared with a defiant stomp. “I’ve gone through too much and come too far to let some mysterious, plushie-collecting, fiction writing prankster scare me off!”

Before Ebbin could call the determined young colt back, Featherweight had already stormed off towards the central hub of the arcade. Who does that fish think he is, telling me to just give up? I’ll bet he’s just trying to throw me off course so he can be with her. Well I won’t allow it!

As Featherweight eyed the DDR machine with a bit clasped in one hoof, watching as Button’s Mum explained to Snips that putting coins into the slot would turn on the machines, (only to be met with his somewhat pensive glances between the bit in his hoof and her rear end) the colt barely seemed to notice that one little filly was nowhere to be seen.

Meanwhile, at the Cutie-Mark Crusaders treehouse

“The box had a glittery star pattern and a big orange bow tied around it,” Sweetie Belle said as she read from her binder, an enraptured Applebloom sat on the opposite side of the table, hanging on her every word. “Scootaloo was so surprised she nearly fainted. ‘For me?’ she asked. Princess Isabella Sun-butt Von Foal-Factory nodded. ‘It is your birthday, is it not?’”

“Ooh, Ah wonder what her present is!” Applebloom thought aloud.

“I’m just getting to that!” Sweetie-Belle cleared her throat melodramatically and continued reading. “Excited, Scootaloo ripped open the present as quickly as she could, spouting a stream of ‘thank you’ to the Princess. Under the wrapping paper was a brown cardboard box. Scootaloo began to pry it open, tears of happiness streaming down her face… And then a bear trap flew out of the box and snapped shut on her head, burying its teeth into her skull!”

Applebloom clapped her hooves together jubilantly. “Hooray! That’s amazin’ Sweetie Belle! That’s even better than the one where she falls into a wood-chipper!”

“Aww… I try my best,” Sweetie Belle replied, blushing. “Now how about you read some more of yours?”

“Sure!” Applebloom chimed, grabbing a ring binder full of paper and flicking to a page near the middle. “Chapter four. After finishin’ up in the cafeteria, Twilight an’ Rarity turned their horns on themselves. The only—”

“Girls! There you are!” Scootaloo interrupted, bursting in through the clubhouse. She began rummaging through a wooden chest. “Come on, come on, it has to be here somewhere.”

“Scootaloo!” Sweetie Belle exclaimed, hastily tidying away the reams of fanfiction before her. “What a nice surprise! Applebloom and I were just… We were just… What were we doing?”

“Er… We… were just namin’ our top five ponies ever, an’ you won, Scootaloo!”

“Uh huh, whatever,” Scootaloo said disinterestedly. “I just need to find… A-ha!” She pulled out a small purple vial from the chest and held it proudly into the air.

“What’cha got there?” Applebloom asked.

“I’ll tell you, but first you both need to promise to keep a secret.”

“Okay, we promise,” Sweetie Belle answered. Applebloom nodded in agreement.

“This is a love potion,” Scootaloo explained, a devious glint in her eyes. “Just like the one we tried to use on Big Mac and Cheerilee, except this time it’s going to work permanently on whomever I choose. I’ve been saving this for just the right time, and you two can’t tell anyone, ever. Understand?”

“Sure, but…” Applebloom trailed off, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Who are you gonna use it on?”

Scootaloo grabbed a saddlebag from the corner of the room and tucked the vial inside. “Mrs Mash, of course. Duh.”

“But Mrs Mash already has a special somepony,” Sweetie Belle commented. “Or… does she? Don’t tell me Mr Mash doesn’t love her anymore! That’s so sad!”

“Which one is he?” Applebloom asked. “Ain’t he the one with orange an’ brown hair, both pegasus an’ unicorn family members an’ is just friends, only friends with Mrs Cake?”

“I don’t have time to explain!” Scootaloo huffed, making her way out. “I need to get back into town before—” Scootaloo stopped as her hoof landed on a sheet of paper with the words ‘Scootaloo learns about friendship – Chapter 5’ underlined at the top. “What is—?”

“That’s nothing!” Sweetie Belle shrieked, her cheeks glowing red. “Just a silly little thing for homework, so there’s absolutely no need for you to read it whatsoever!”

Scootaloo frowned suspiciously at her friend and began to read anyway. “After Scootaloo had been thrown down into the ravine by her parents she had no friends. Ponies would spit at her in the street. But then one day, Scootaloo found a patch of wet mud. Scootaloo’s only friend was the mud. When she cried herself to sleep, the mud was the only thing that was there for her. And then one day, the mud abandoned her just like everyone else.” Scootaloo crumpled up the paper in a fit of rage. “What have I told you two!? I don’t like you writing Scootabuse stories!”

“Well they’re just stories,” Applebloom said in a trembling voice. “It’s not like we want that stuff to happen for real, an’ you’re still our friend. It’s just... It’s difficult to explain, but writin’ those stories is real fun for some reason.”

“Hey Girls,” came a voice from just outside the treehouse. “I’ve been working on this new vore story where Scootaloo gets swallowed by a lion and—” Cheerilee’s face appeared in the doorway, her smile dropping like a rock as she noticed Scootaloo standing before her. “Scootaloo! W-w-what a surprise!”

“Oh forget it!” Scootaloo screamed, storming past Cheerilee and towards the centre of Ponyville.

As the young pegasus trotted further into the distance, the teacher and two fillies sighed deeply in unison. “It was bound to happen someday,” Cheerilee muttered. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t find out about the other members of our writing group.”

“Speakin’ o’ which, will our newest member be comin’ today?” Applebloom asked.

“I’m not sure,” replied Cheerilee. “I think she might be busy at the Wonderbolts Academy.”

Back at Ponyville arcade

Featherweight took a deep breath, steeling himself as two fillies almost reached the end of the song on the DDR machine. Step one: Become a DDR champion. Step two: Impress Button’s Mum with sexy dancing. Step three: Seduce her until she agrees to leave her husband and run away to a new life. The fillies’ game came to an end, leaving the machine free to use. And of course, the last step. Featherweight stepped up with his bit in his hoof. The most important one of all. He smiled to himself, watching as Button and Snips settled into their own games, leaving the beauty all by herself. The one that matters most. The reason for being! He slid his bit into the slot. Step four: Mount Button’s Mum!

“Mrs Mash?” Featherweight called.

“Yes, Featherweight?”

“Could you do me a favour? I want to go on this dancing game but I’m a little bit worried that I might slip and fall. Could you keep a close eye on me? Maybe stand next to me and make sure I don’t injure myself?”

Milano paused for a moment, a wry grin on her face. “Something tells me you’re better at this game than you let on.”

“What d’you mean?” Featherweight asked nervously.

“I can see you tapping your hooves in time to the beat of the song as we speak,” Milano said, pointing towards Featherweight’s hooves. In a panic, he leapt and hovered above the floor, holding them to his chest “It’s alright, Featherweight. You can come out with it.”

“I… I c-can?” Featherweight stammered, his heart going into overdrive. Could she really mean it? Could she have seen the signs? Should I confess my eternal love right here and have her carry me off into the sunset? Is this—?

“It’s not easy for a colt to admit that they like dancing games, and you just want somepony to cheer you on and see how good you are!” Milano exclaimed. “And since Button and Snips are playing games and Scootaloo is…” She took a quick sweep of the surrounding area and scratched her head. “Actually, I’m not sure where she is.”

“It’s fine, she went to the bathroom,” Featherweight quickly lied, happy to have that meddling filly out of the picture. “But I guess you’re right. I want you to see—”

“Oh I’ll do more than that,” Button’s Mum announced, stepping up onto the adjacent dance pad. “It’s been a while so I might be a bit rusty, but I like to think I’ve still retained some of my skill.” She raised a coin to the machine, looking to Featherweight for approval. “Unless you’d be too embarrassed to be seen dancing with an old fuddy-duddy like me.”

Featherweight shook his head erratically. “No! Not at all! We can play with each other… I mean play a game together! I’m totally cool with that!” Featherweight’s smile broadened as he got into place between the four glowing arrows beside his hooves. He watched as the mare beside him did the same, her posterior perked slightly into the air. This is a dream come true, Featherweight thought as the two ponies both pressed the start buttons in sync, lighting up the display and sending the soundtrack and voiceover springing into life.

“Get your hooves a movin’!” a petit Japonies mare on the screen exclaimed. “It’s time for Dirty Dancing Romp! Serect youl difficurty.”

Without hesitation, Milano tapped the button marked ‘Deluxe Magnum.’ Anypony who was anypony knew that you couldn’t get any harder or more strenuous than ‘Deluxe Magnum.’ Featherweight could hardly believe his eyes that she’d chosen it so casually.

“Let’s hope my dancing ability hasn’t degraded too much over the past few months,” Milano said with a light chuckle. “I don’t get much chance to come here since Button gets too embarrassed.”

“Uh-huh…” Featherweight mumbled, a sliver of drool drooping from his bottom lip. His wings immediately shot out like high-powered pistons. But instead of trying to force them back into place or hiding his shame, he stood proudly with his wing-boner on show in its full glory. It was creepy yet liberating, and could be interpreted as innocently or as sordidly as one wished, like a lonely step-sister leaving her bedroom door just slightlyajar at night. Featherweight smiled to himself and hit ‘Deluxe Magnum’ too.

Everything is going to be perfect…

Scootaloo hurried along the dirt path toward the arcade, the wind pelting her face with the reproductive seeds of the local flora. She still wasn’t sure why love potions hadn’t been outlawed, especially after the chaos that ensued after a batch accidentally got mixed in with the cider keg at an Apple Family Reunion. It was a stroke of luck that Big Mac had enough money to pay for Granny Smith’s hip replacement as a way of apology. In any case, regardless of how difficult it was to get together the ingredients again, a love potion was exactly what Scootaloo needed.

I know you’re up to something, Featherweight! she muttered silently as the arcade came into view. So it looks like I’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way — coaxing a mare into my hooves with drink! Scootaloo sprinted towards the arcade door, determination at an all-time high. Nothing can stop me now!

Chapter 6 - Four-Legged Frolic

Chapter 6 – Four-Legged Frolic

Where once there was a faint backing track and a simplistic menu screen, there was light. It flashed across the display in a rainbow of colours as a Japonies teenage mare by the name of JL-Bait appeared wearing a sleeveless white shirt, stripy tie and seven inch long miniskirt, as was tradition. Featherweight tensed his forelegs as the arrows of fate ascended from the bottom of the screen and the music started. Dancing alongside his beloved, this was to be his finest hour.

The steps came thick and fast, like ALDI cashiers on rollerblades. Up, down, left, right, and all the other movements that made up the most meaningful directions in a pony’s life. Featherweight stomped his hooves with super-equine precision and timing, as evidenced by the game’s cries of appraisal at each and every moment.

“Perfect!”

“Great!”

“Marvellous!”

…said the stallions staring at Milano’s rhythmically thrusting plot. A jet of liquid pride shot across the arcade floor. Liquid Pride, of course, being the name of a branded soft drink sponsored by Shining Armour, a can of which had been dropped by a careless teenage colt. He then proceeded to cream himself, as he was a big colt now and didn’t require assistance to apply his own skin cream anymore.

Mutterings spread throughout the arcade until a small crowd had gathered by the DDR machine as Featherweight and Button’s Mum danced with unbridled fervour. Jaws hit the floor as both mare and colt moved their hooves at break-plot pace to the beat. But Featherweight was oblivious, of course. He could’ve been dancing centre-stage in the Griffon coliseum to an army of sexually depraved, ravenous changelings and he wouldn’t have noticed. There were only arrows, and Button’s Mum. Nothing else mattered.

At the other end of the arcade, Button slammed his hoof down on the game cabinet, having exhausted his supply of bits without ever reaching the final level. He let out a furious grunt and cursed the obviously inferior four-gate arcade stick that should have definitely been an eight-gate, and was clearly an attempt by the arcade staff to impede players’ progress to get them more money. “Enjoy your money hats,” Button muttered under his breath, before plodding away to the central hub. If he was lucky, he’d be able to beg some more money from his mother. If only my Dad didn’t spend so much money on plushies, he silently cursed. Then I could afford more games than ever.

As Button contemplated his approach to get some extra bits, he hit a roadblock in the form of a wall of cheering ponies. There were a myriad of whistles, hurrahs, cries of “Amazing,” “Incredible,” “Very swagger,” and “Tight enough to pull lead from a pencil!” among other things.

“Urgh… Excuse me, please!” Button yelled, nudging his way between the legs of taller ponies who still appeared to ignore him. “Mum! Where are you?” he called, but his voice was drowned out by the crowd’s bellows, and the odd sound of hooves colliding with plastic. He tried looking upwards to get his bearings, but it was as if every pegasus in the arcade was gearing up to take flight, their wings extended out at their sides, obscuring his view. Patches of saliva and ‘Celestia knows what’ had turned the floor into a sticky mess, requiring Button to watch his step. Why is everyone drooling? He said inwardly. And what in the hay is that smell? “Mum!? Scootaloo!? Featherbrain!? Anyone!?”

Pushing between two stallions, Button leapt forward onto the one bare patch of carpet he could see. Picking himself up from the floor, he looked up to see yet another patch of carpet.

“Mum? What are you doing!?”

“Oh, please don’t distract me right now, sweetie,” Button’s Mum replied, her hooves partaking in a mad flurry as her rear end bopped around to the beat of some repetitive techno filth that made Button want to tear out his eardrums.

“Mum, you are embarrassing me!” Button fumed, looking around to see more than half the arcade’s eyes transfixed on his mother. His cheeks flushed a deep red. So many times he’d been shown up in public just because his Mum had to go and make a spectacle of herself. “Why are you even playing this stupid—?”

And then Button’s eyes were drawn to the pony dancing on the adjacent cabinet. There he was, the scrawny pegasus with his legs flailing, gawky-bared, lost in techno trance, matching the game’s moves step for step. An indescribable sensation of anger and confusion (and a little bit of déjà vu) rose up inside the young earth pony. Just what was he doing dancing with her? Button sat down and put a hoof to his chin in thought. Sure, Featherweight’s DDR skills were impeccable, but something else was going on that tickled the back of his mind…

The stallion stood behind Button stepped back and cleared his throat. “Sorry about that,” he said, looking flushed.

Unbeknownst to any of them, however, a little orange filly was on the move.

“One bottle of Cherry Pop, please!” Scootaloo requested, presenting two bits to the drink vendor.

The mare behind the counter stared at the young filly with a discerning eye and let out a high-pitched growl. “Are you local?” she snarled, baring her jagged, yellow teeth.

Scootaloo cocked her head curiously. “Well, yeah. I live here in Ponyville.”

“Thank goodness!” the mare exclaimed, dragging a gnarled foreleg over the counter and scraping the bits into a leather pouch. She ran a hoof through her tangled mane and took out a bottle of Cherry Pop. “I’ve had so much trouble with outsiders lately. Do they not understand that this is a local shop for local ponies? There’s no place for them, here! Especially not that filthy zebra who spoke in tongues and went missing last week. Not that I even saw him in the first place!”

“Um… Okay?” Scootaloo said unsurely, taking the soda bottle and slipping it into her saddlebag. “Thank you!” she called as she ran towards the arcade.

“I didn’t eat him!” the mare yelled across the marketplace. “And I didn’t turn his skin into clothing! I swear!”

Scootaloo jogged ahead — leaving behind the rugged old mare with a black and white stripy scarf — and formulated the plan in her mind. The potion she carried would cause any pony to fall madly in love with whomever they first made eye contact with after drinking. Of course, somepony might be suspicious at being presented a strange liquid, but when mixed with simple pop, who was to know? I need to play this just right, the determined young filly thought to herself. If I can do that, she’s as good as mine!

Upon reaching the arcade entrance, Scootaloo scouted intensely for Button’s Mum. It didn’t take long, of course. The large crowd around the DDR machine was telling enough, and she soon spotted Featherweight and Button’s Mum side by side, taking a bow as everypony around them cheered. So that was your plan, was it, Featherweight? Impress her with your dancing? But the joke’s on you… Scootaloo carefully poured the potion into the soda bottle, a sadistic grin on her face. You’ve made her all sweaty. And sweaty mares get thirsty. You’ve made this as easy for me as possible, Featherweight, and you don’t even know it.

With a new boost of confidence, she began a steady trot towards them. The crowd was beginning to disperse, leaving Mother Mash open to attack. It was now or never. “Mrs Mash?” she called. No response. Raising her voice, she called out again. “Mrs Ma—” Scootaloo fell abruptly to the floor as something collided with her hind legs. “Ow!” she cried out. Looking behind her, she saw a pony wearing a long, hooded coat walking away. “You tripped me!” she blasted, clambering to her hooves. “Aren’t you gonna say sorry?”

The pony didn’t reply, and instead carried on walking, their face shielded from view. Whatever, creep, Scootaloo thought indignantly. Now back to the matter at… Scootaloo looked at the floor around her. Where is it? She fumbled through her saddlebag but came up empty-hooved. Where’s the drink!?

Taking a look behind her, Scootaloo saw it. The hooded pony had tucked the bottle of Cherry Pop into their coat pocket and was nonchalantly sauntering off with it. “Hey! Give that back!” Scootaloo cried, and barrelled after him. Without looking back, the hooded pony took off, leaping effortlessly over a group of colts and swiftly passing through the exit.

Button’s Dad took one glance behind him, watching as Scootaloo leapt outside and looked in his direction, her eyes brimming with anger. “Stop! Thief!” she screamed before running after him once again. A few surrounding ponies took heed and shot him with disgruntled looks. Without responding, he sprinted through the marketplace as fast as he could, not looking back.

He knew exactly what Scootaloo’s plan was. He knew she planned to steal his wife. That’s all anypony ever tried to do. The love potion idea wasn’t to be sniffed at. As far as he was aware, it really could warp his wife’s mind into falling in love with a ten year old filly. Not only would that be a difficult scenario to explain to Button (not to mention the police) but it’d mean his one true love would be lost, possibly forever. And that was never going to happen. He would rather die horribly than see his wife be taken from him. He loved her so very much…

Nopony could ever know his secret. Nopony could ever know the truth behind his relationship with the beautiful Milano. Nopony could ever understand. Nopony could comprehend what he’d gone through. Nopony could ever witness the truth of how he had come to know the unknowable. And nopony could discover the meaning behind the plushies. He would take his secrets to the grave. That, he was certain of. And no pesky little filly would ever change that.

Sorry, Scootaloo, but you’re all out of luck…

“Wow, what a stroke of luck!” Scootaloo exclaimed as she trotted over to the bottle of Cherry Pop that had fallen from the hooded pony’s pocket. She could see him still running off into the distance, completely oblivious to his error. “Now to get you back to the arcade.”

Featherweight didn’t want the moment to end. He’d just danced along to some of the greatest DDR songs of all time — One Eyed Hero, Dead End, Requiem For A Hymen, Paint It White and Sex Pun — with the greatest mare of all time, and on ‘Deluxe Magnum’ difficulty, no less. And now they were taking a bow as the rest of the world applauded them.

Featherweight looked at Milano.

…

Milano looked at Featherweight.

…

Featherweight and Milano were looking at each other.

“I haven’t had a workout like that in quite a while,” Milano uttered between a few deep breaths. “I have to say, you’re better on your hooves than I expected. I’m very impressed.”

Oh yeah. She wants me now. I can just tell. “Well I have been practicing a lot,” Featherweight beamed. “And what about you? I thought you were amazing!”

“Let’s just say I’ve had a lot of practice myself. Why, not long after Button’s brother, Sour Mash, was born, I’d spend hour after hour dancing on these games. It’s been nearly a year since I last played on one of these, though. You see, Button doesn’t like it when—”

“Mum! How could you humiliate me like this!” said the voice of a familiar, whiny little brat. “Grown-ups shouldn’t play videogames, especially not ones where you need to jump around like a crazy pony!”

“The age recommendation says seven plus, Button,” Milano said matter-of-factly. “Not seven to twenty.”

“But it’s embarrassing!” Button wailed. “And you!” he fumed, pointing a hoof at Featherweight. “What’re you doing dancing with my Mum?”

“Uh…”

“Button!” Milano scolded. “I don’t like your tone, especially when talking to a good friend of yours. Featherweight wanted to play DDR, and so did I. We just played a few games together because it was easier that way.”

“But still…” Button said with a frown. “It’s just weird.”

“All those times I offered to play games with you, and now you’re annoyed at me for playing with someone else?”

“It’s alright you playing with Dad! Just… not anyone else.”

Milano rolled her eyes. “Anyway, Featherweight, shouldn’t we take a look at the scores?”

“Oh. Right,” said Featherweight, turning back to the game display. What he saw made him grin. “We both averaged an ‘AA’ score? Amazing! It looks like I got a few more ‘Marvellous’ hits than you did, though. You know, I’ve always wondered why ‘Marvellous’ is...”

“…better than getting a ‘Perfect?’” Milano finished. She let out a quick laugh that almost melted Featherweight’s balls. “I’ve always thought that too. It’s just one of those things about Japonies games, I guess.”

You’re marvellous, Featherweight thought. That word was created for you. Marvellous Milano. You’re better than perfect…

“I’m feeling a little bit thirsty, though,” the marvellous mare exclaimed, fanning herself with a hoof.

“Right here!” came a cry from Scootaloo, who had inexplicably appeared beside Button. She held out a bottle of fizzy drink in one hoof, panting erratically. “For you… Mrs Mash.”

“Well that’s very kind of you.” Button’s Mum took the bottle gratefully, but somewhat suspiciously. “Did you want some first, Featherweight? I imagine you’re very—”

“No!” Scootaloo bellowed. “I mean, um, no, Mrs Mash. I got that drink just for you, as a thank you for taking us all out here, and I’d really appreciate if you would drink it.”

Button’s Mum pondered this for a moment. “I do have a few bits left over to get you kids some drinks and a snack.”

“So yeah! Feel free to drink up!” Scootaloo said with encouragement, planting herself right in front of her. “Anytime you want. But right now would be good.”

Featherweight frowned with suspicion, eyeing Scootaloo’s dastardly grin. Just what is she up to? Did she put alcohol in there? Is she really trying to get her drunk? Why didn’t I think of that earlier!? Drunk dancing can only lead to the mummy-daddy dance! But before Featherweight could think of a worthwhile retort, Button’s Mum was already drinking, her head tilted back and her eyes closed as she enjoyed the thirst-quenching pop.

Scootaloo stepped forward once more, practically mere Planck lengths in front of Button’s Mum. As the mare was about to finish her beverage, Scootaloo opened her mouth. “Did you like it, Mrs Mash?”

Milano drank the last few drops and opened her eyes to see the little orange filly directly in front of her. She took an instinctive step back, startled by how close she was standing to her. Looking into the pegasus’ eyes, she nodded and smiled. “Very refreshing, I must say. Thank you, Scootaloo. I really…”

“Yes?” Scootaloo chirped, beaming from ear to ear.

Button’s Mum stared at Scootaloo intently, a curious expression on her face. “There’s something…”

“Yes!?” Scootaloo beamed, her legs wobbling giddily.

“Your mane.”

“You really like my mane? Is that it? It’s beautiful!?”

Button’s Mum looked away for a moment, appearing a little flustered. “Your mane is very… very pretty, Scootaloo.”

The excitable filly’s jaw nearly hit the floor with uncontrollable joy. “Really?”

“But there’s something else.” Button’s Mum brought a hoof to Scootaloo’s mane and gently brushed it through.

Scootaloo was practically hyperventilating at this point, savouring every moment of contact with the gorgeous mare. Time ceased to exist. There was only bliss, and the sense of victory. “W-what… What e-else is there, Mrs Mash?”

“This was stuck in your mane.”

Scootaloo blinked. “What?”

“This,” Button’s Mum said, holding up a slip of paper in one hoof, “was stuck in your mane.” She took a quick glance at what was written on it. “It’s a story. About you.”

Scootaloo took the scrap of paper and gave it a read herself. Scootaloo struggled along, crawling through the sleet and the snow for two days until she finally brought all the puppies to the safety of their mother’s kennel. However, the golden retriever had since gone rabid and tore the little cripple’s throat out. “Oh, I am going to pound those two,” Scootaloo seethed, crumpling the Scootabuse excerpt and tossing it across the arcade. Unbeknownst to her, it hit the head of a fan fiction writer who would go on to become a famous celebrity and even have his own EQ Tropes page on the town square billboard and get so much sex.

“So I promised drinks for all of you,” Button’s Mum said cheerfully. “I’m sure they’ll sell something in the marketplace.”

As Button and his mother began walking ahead, Featherweight took a moment to regard Scootaloo. The filly had practically been frozen in place, her expression one of disbelief. “The hay’s gotten into you!?” Featherweight joshed. “You mad that your plan to get her drunk failed? You do know you need alcohol for that, right?”

“I don’t understand it,” Scootaloo muttered, staring off into the distance. “It worked last time, and I’m sure I got all the ingredients right.”

Featherweight cocked an eyebrow. “Ingredients for what?”

“The love potion was supposed to work,” Scootaloo continued. “Why hasn’t it worked!? She should be eating me like an ice-cream right about now!”

“Love potion!?” Featherweight exclaimed. “What? How?”

Scootaloo snapped back to reality and gave the colt a furious glower. “None of your business, Featherbrain!”

“Hurry up, you two,” Button’s Mum called. “We can come back to the arcade in a minute or two.” The two foals did as they were told and paced after her.

Love potion, eh? Featherweight mused. Is such a thing even possible? Scootaloser seemed pretty sure it would work, so why didn’t it? Maybe I impressed her so much with my dancing that it overruled the potion! Yeah, that must be it!

The group continued walking towards the exit, until Button’s Mum stopped in her tracks. “Wait a moment,” she said aloud, looking around the arcade frantically. “Where’s… where’s Snips?”

“I think I saw him, somewhere…” Button answered tentatively. “Actually, no. I haven’t seen him since I got here.” The three foals looked between each other nervously. It became apparent that none of them had even noticed (or particularly cared) that Snips was gone.

“Oh no, this is bad,” Button’s Mum gasped. “We have to find him! He must be here somewhere in the arcade. If something’s happened to him, I…” She shook her head. “We should split up into pairs and meet right back here, next to the Plot Cycle cabinet. Button, come with me. Featherweight and Scootaloo, check over on the left hand side.”

Without question, they all got to work. For once, being teamed up with Scootaloo didn’t bother Featherweight. The need to find Snips outweighed his immense dislike of her. Not that he was particularly worried about Snips’ safety, but he knew that Button’s Mum would be held responsible should anything bad happen to him. Snips’ father, Snaps, would likely snap Button’s Mum in two. And that was too horrible to even consider.

After several minutes of intense searching, they all turned up empty-hooved. The most recent moment any of them could remember seeing him was just a short while before the DDR dance-off. With a look of mild panic, Button’s Mum insisted that they all make another round-trip of the arcade together. But still, there was no sign of him.

“Maybe he went into the marketplace,” Button suggested. “He might’ve got hungry or something.”

Hoping for the best, the four ponies trotted outside. What happened next surpassed all of their expectations.

“There she is!” they heard somepony yell from seemingly nowhere, and in an instant, two mares leapt to either side of the walkway with trombones in hoof and began playing a stirring marching theme. Two other mares, both earth ponies, (the master race) jumped to their sides, each with a basketful of rose petals. They sprinkled the walkway with a flurry of red, pink and white and began singing in high-pitched opera tones.

While all this was enough to make their jaws drop, the cherry on top came as Snips — wearing a tuxedo and holding a bunch of roses — appeared opposite them, grinning like a fool. The music and singing died down as Snips made a gesture, and he simply stared into Milano’s eyes longingly.

“S-Snips?” the mare exclaimed, completely taken aback. “We’ve been looking for you. W-what… what is all this?”

“It’s for you,” he said smugly.

“Me? You did this for me?”

“Of course, m’lady. Sure, I had to do a few chores so they’d all agree to do this, including a few circumcisions, but it was all worth it, just for you.”

“He did a great job, too,” one of the mares piped up. “My son Slit-Wrist got his foreskin lopped and he was so happy he was crying.”

“And not just this,” Snips continued. “I wrote a poem for you, Mrs Mash. It’s about my feelings for you.”

“Your feelings!?” Milano exclaimed, totally aghast. The three other foals simply stared on in utter disbelief. Snips cleared his throat.

“Roses are red,
Violets are not,
Sugar is sweet,
And so is your plot.”

He took a bow as the surrounding mares applauded. “And where are my manners?” Snips trotted up and gallantly offered the roses. “For you, my treacle tart.”

Featherweight was absolutely mortified. No way. This can’t be happening. Don’t tell me that of all the ponies, Snips — freakin’ Snips — is the one who wins this? He’s the one who wins her heart? And after all the effort that went into becoming a DDR God? This is insane!

“How dare you!?” Button roared. “You’re hitting on my Mum? What is wrong with you!?”

“I know it must be difficult for you to accept, Button,” Snips said softly, a sombre expression on his face. “But your mother is a grown mare capable of making her own choices. I know it’ll be tough, but perhaps one day I can be like a father to you.” He placed a hoof on Button’s shoulder. “This is weird, I understand that, but I care about your mother, and I’ll be sure to treat her right.”

“Snips?” Milano quipped.

“Ah, yes, my dear?”

“This is all very… sudden,” Milano said uneasily, her cheeks burning a stark crimson. “But you do know that I’m married, right?”

“Not a problem!” Snips cried. “There’s plenty of places where you can file for divorce!”

“You don’t seem to understand.” Milano brought a hoof to her temple in exasperation and wiped away reams of sweat. She took a deep breath and sighed. “I could never divorce my husband. I love him dearly. I signed the vows, ‘until death do us part’ and all that, and I’m going to stick by them. No force on earth could ever make me think otherwise. And even if we were to leave each other, I could never date somepony your age. I’d be thrown straight in prison. You’re too young for me, Snips. If you want a filly-friend, you should be with fillies your own age, you see? This cannot be allowed to carry on. This obsession of yours is unhealthy, and I think it’s for the best if you stay away for a while, to give you a chance to get over this.”

Snips slumped to the ground, tears forming in his eyes. “B-but, you c-can’t be serious, Mrs Mash? I l-l-l-love you.”

“It’s the way it has to be,” Milano said sadly. “I’m sorry, Sn—”

Before she could even finish her sentence, Snips was already sprinting down the street, wailing at the top of his lungs. The four mares who had previously helped with his declaration gave each other a series of solemn looks before slinking off through the crowd, quietly playing Chopone’s death march as they left.

Button’s Dad looked on from the shadows as Snips barrelled past, content with the result. But he couldn’t help but feel just a little bit sorry for the poor colt. After all, he would never get to feel himself being sexually milked by the dazzling temptress that was Milano. But that was life.

Nestled in the alleyway, Button’s Dad took out the bottle of Cherry Pop that he’d stolen from Scootaloo earlier. Little did the filly know that he’d switched the bottles with one of his own. She would likely go on to believe that Milano’s love couldn’t be overrun by some silly potion. So hopefully, he wouldn’t need to stop her from trying this ever again.

He peered at the innocent pink liquid, knowing full well what was inside. He would need to save it for a very, very special occasion. Which, the same as everything else about him, was a total secret that he would take to the grave. And just like that, he sped off into the afternoon.

The walk back to Button’s house was a slow one, mostly silent except for Button’s mutterings about how much of a ‘little creep’ Snips was. Featherweight didn’t want to talk. He understood now that he could try as hard as he wanted, but Button’s Mum wouldn’t and couldn’t be with him. She had a husband whom she loved. She was legal tender, he wasn’t. And from the look on Scootaloo’s face he could tell that she was thinking the exact same thing.

He said goodbye soon after and made his way home, quickly charging upstairs and burying his face into his pillow. Featherweight had never felt such anguish. The tears kept on flowing for longer than he ever thought possible. The beautiful mare’s painful words repeated over and over in his mind.

“I could never divorce my husband. I love him dearly.”

“I could never date somepony your age. I’d be thrown straight in prison.”

“I signed the vows, ‘until death do us part’ and all that, and I’m going to stick by them.”

“No force on earth could ever make me think otherwise.”

“And even if we were to leave each other,”

“I signed the vows, ‘until death do us part,’”

“You’re too young for me.”

“If you want a filly-friend,”

“Until death do us part,”

“Until death…”

Featherweight sat bolt upright, the solution finally dawning on him. Hope was not lost. Not just yet...