The Greetest

by Norm

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Comedy, Romance, Tragedy, Random
Length: 1132

A story of tragedy, mystery, and sinful pleasures. What lies herein is not for the faint of heart. Or the faint of butt.

A story of tragedy, mystery, and sinful pleasures. What lies herein is not for the faint of heart. Or the faint of butt.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-25 04:34:01 UTC

Introduction

Dickbutt McButtdick is the greates detective to ever detective. And he duck all the bichesssssssssssss.

A new rival to Equestria from eggland, (which if you didn’t know is a parodical title of England) after escaping a mass mobbing by all his moistened-by-the-sight-of-him fangirls, arrives at his new flat in Canterlot with his favourite bitches, Willow Puss and Denice. ( We’ll let you decide whether denice is a pony or a human)

“Phew, those slotpones were all over me.” Said Dickbutt modestly. “How ironic that it was their own fluids of sensual turmoil that allowed us to slip out from the crowd.”

Suddenly, denice squeaked and spoke. (out of turn, mind you) “Master, there’s a parcel underneath your stack of subscription erotic viewing material.”

After administering a firm paddling to denice, Dickbutt inspected the parcel in question.

“I say, what could it be?” asked dickbutt to himself, since no other person dare speak to him without his consent.

There was a note on the parcel that read: “Mister McButtdick, I, princess Celstia would like to coorgially request that you grace us with your presence at a gathering I am having this evening. Please bring your lovely bitches as well. I would like to wager a price on each of them.

Sincerely,

Princess Celestia, Patron saintess of the Sun, bitch”

Ensclosed in the parcel were three extravagant invitations, each glistening with glimmering salts (which is a pony-world variant of cocaine) that so perfectly matches the evidence captured by the magnifying glass on Dickbutts pone rear.

“Well, tha’ do sound like quite a bit of foun!!!!” Commented Willow ins her filthy Hayjun accent.  (I swear to god if you couldn ‘t tell that was a variant of Cajun)

After fimly paddling his other mistress for speaking out of trun, Dicbutt replied “Yes, does seem like a splendid time. I dare say I shall attend!” He jubilantly agreed.

And so, Dickbutt and his lovely marefirends (except denice maybe) had super hot amazing coitus all day until arriving the party. (Like, they were still having it on the way to the party and only stopped a little while after the front doors opened.)

Dickbutt and his lovely companions entered the grand hall of Celestia’s tax-fortified mansion, glinstening from being covered in various sensual fluids.

“We have arrived!” announced Dickbutt, whose arrival caused many puddles to form between the hind legs of many patrons of Celestia’s sware’.

Celestia herself approached the greatest detective to ever detective and bowed before his godlike visage. “A pleaseur to have you, Dickbutt.”

Dickbutt made a gesture that signaled Celestia to rise.

“I do hope you have a wonderful time.” Celestia said.

“I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t, your majesty.” Said Dickbutt. “Though I am curious as to where your Lovely sister has gone.” He asked.

Celestia rolled her eyes. “My dear sister is not, how you say, swayed by the carms of your sex, Dickbutt. She’s at the top floor, having implausibly loud relations with my pupil, Twilight.”

Dickbutt laughed to himself. “How adorable. And here I thought her thousand year banishment might have left her a little devided on the subject of coitus.”

Celestia laughed as well. “Well, something is certainly devided.”  (her legs, you twats)

Having been allowed to do so, Celestia left Dickbutt’s presence. Now having the opportunity to wander about the party, he took notice of all the lusteful mares that stared at him hungrily. It was in positions like this when Dickbutt felt incredibly, but there was one other situration that made him feel more at home than anything.

And little did he no, that he would be in that situation tonight.

“AAAHHHHHH” a shriek echoed through the grand hall. A pristine, white Pony with a curled violet mane stared at the ceiling where it appeared that a patron of the party had been impaled on the horn of Celestia’s statue.

Thunder rumbled in the background as pony’s gawked at the horrifying sight. The aforementioned white horse babbled uncontrollably until her shrieking was silenced when Dickbutt’s magnificent member firmly collided with her face, leaving a glowing red mark across her otherwise unblemished muzzle.

Semi-erect and strutting proudly, Dickbutt addressed the other guests, all of them being silenced after his perfectly performed cockslap made an echoing ‘PAP’ throughout the hall.

“Calm yourselves, you fools!” he said to them. “We have a murder here! and I, the greatest detective to ever detective am on the case!”

One question Answered, many others raised

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.”