The Greetest

Chapter 2: This time it’s not Chapter 1

The ballroom had gone quiet. Pones stared in anxious silence as Dickbutt’s mighty horn (the one on his head) began to glow a syrupy orage, tainted by the injustices he had seen, as well as his own toyetically sinful thoughts.

Dickbutt was a people’s pony (expecially in denice’s case. Maybe). He knew how other pony’s thought; he had a principle understanding of the pony condition. And he had grown adept at using his magic to observe the inner feelings of the ponies around him. For while so many followed similar paths, it made it all the easier to find those who were ‘unhinged’.

Searching through the crowds, he found all sorts of feelings. Feely feelings. Anger. Sorrow. Arousel. It’s amazing what a murder can inspire within a pone mind.

And that’s he found it.

Pointing a hoof to one of the patrons, Dickbutt announced “There! The culprit is there!”

The pone in question looked around, histantly before attempting to run away. However his escape attempt was all in vain, as Dickbutt’s superior speed allowed him to reach the culprit. All too soon, a familiar ‘PAP’ echoed once again throughout the castle.

A red silhouette in the shape of Dickbutt’s powerful shaft was emblazoned on the pony’s muzzle as he tried to shake himself from a disoriented state. “H-how did you…?”

“Ponies are constantly thinking.” Dickbutt began. “So many thoughts fly about the equine mind, and one can learn to predict who shall think what, and when.” He gestured to all the ponies in the ballroom. “Everyone here, despite the fear or anger they felt, were also experiencing arousal from the sight of my stalionhood as it collided with this young mare’s cheek. Except for you.

“Too caught up in your nefarious deed, you were too distracted to notice even my glorious member.”

Dickbutt grabbed the pony by his lapels. “Why did you do it?”

The pony looked at Dickbutt for only a moment, before, by some manner of mystic intervention, the pony suddenly aged incredibly rapidly, before turning to dust in Dickbutt’s hooves.

Curious, but otherwise unphased by this force of magic, Dickbutt turned to his lovely bitches, who were busy fellataling each other in the background. “My dears. It appears we have a mystery on our hooves.”