Approximately 2000 Words (Mostly!) About Butts
In the magical land of Equestria, there are wonders both strange and exotic. Last lands filled with creatures that defy the imagination. Hidden cities rich with plunder and speckled with the remains of adventures foolhardy enough to blunder into the many traps to keep said plunder safe. Lost tomes detailing great magics whose workings remain lost to the world, save perhaps for the keen minds of the Princesses...and they are mares who jealously guard such secrets, for some magics are not meant for mortal ken.
There is one magic, however, which is beyond even the knowledge of the Princesses. The only pony who truly understood Starswirls Fourth Axiom of Hyperphasic Dimensionality disappeared after an unfortunate incident with an overzealous barber. Understandable, as ‘Starswirl the Recently Bearded’ lacks a certain historical zest.
Just behind the Fourth Axiom, however, is a magic far more mundane. A magic that permeates the land of Equestria, that produces an aura of control amongst the susceptible - which is nearly everypony above a certain age. The Princesses must know much about this magic, for they are amongst its most potent practitioners.
With normal magic, the sort that fills the storybooks of eager fillies and colts, it is easy to identify the great and powerful. They don exotic clothing, dwell in far towers and lost castles, and keep strange pets whom yowl at all hours of the night. Usually. Some prefer the company of fuzzy, cuddly pets, like cats for whom a pony makes a most comfortable pillow. Cats whom have no trouble leaping onto the bed and daintily walking along limbs at any hour of the night to settle in a purring lump nearby. Cats who exert a dangerous mind control that allows them to so flagrantly violate the sovereignty of sleep and escape without penalty.
Begone, Cats! This story is not about you. Nor is it about those terrible wielders of the arcane arts, many of whom are lost to time unless your name is Twilight Sparkle.
It would be possible to continue to remain cagey about the source of this mysterious magic. Indeed, in some cases, it would be enjoyable to do so - such as instances where you, dear reader, were not completely aware of what is to come. Unless there has been a colossal universal fluke, it can be assumed that you have read the title of this tale and thus await confirmation that yes, this is about pony posteriors.
And thus, let us delay no longer. The magic is that of pony rumps. Plump posh posteriors, ranging from the pert and perky, to the positively plush and pillowy. Potent Practitioners of the Posterior Powers can be found in any city or village, in the most innocuous of circumstances.
Consider the case of a mare who claims to be but a simple baker, who dwells within the town of Ponyville. Is it mere coincidence that this was where Twilight Sparkle too made her home, where Twilight Sparkle ascended to alicornhood, where the palace of the Princess of Friendship quite literally sprouted?
Mrs. Cup Cake, when confronted, was quite the master of evasion. “Dearie, I truly have no idea what you are talking about,” began her false claims of ignorance when asked to explain how she had become so magically adept. Ever-committed to her ruse, her cheeks turned the most lovely shade of rouge when it was pointed out her derriere was amongst Ponyville’s most notable assets. “Are you calling me fat?!” was the next wounded reply, and hasty backpedaling on the investigator’s behalf was finally met with an exasperated, “What sort of baker does not enjoy her own sweets?! Yes, I could stand to exercise more, but see how much energy you have for galloping about after you have twins!”
Wisely, the investigation was immediately changed from direct to clandestine to avoid the risk of further arousing her ire. Observation of the colts of Ponyville confirmed that the vast majority of them are in her thrall, as her travels through town draw their gaze, eyes wide and staring, minds clearly empty of thought. For now, she seems content to simply bask in her power without wielding it...yet should the day come that she desires more, I fear none can stand against her.
Mrs. Cake does not stand unopposed though. One brave mare conducts a one-pony crusade, an unending quest whose true purpose remains unknown to most. To Ponyville, Rarity is but a not-so-humble dressmaker, whose obsession with fashion is merely the fulfillment of her life’s ambition. Those who know better realize that she strives to suppress the hypnotic appeal of bottoms by concealing them within layers of clothing. In hiding them, they lose much of their potency, ruffled skirts concealing the hypnotic sway of hips.
The entire fashion industry, indeed, is but a front for those ponies conducting a clandestine war against those who would use their beautiful booties to conquer Equestria. Centuries ago, they had hope of victory. There was a growing movement throughout the land to consider nudity indecent exposure. Newspapers, nobility, and notable notaries alike had banded together to petition for a new way of life.
They would have succeeded, too, were it not for the sneaky ways of the royal pastry chef. The day before they were to present their petition was Princess Celestia’s birthday, and the chef made his move. A triple-layer fudge-raspberry-sprinkle delight, one large enough to feed an entire wedding...but this cake was his gift for Celestia alone.
The next morning? The cake was gone. Celestia had a stomachache and cancelled court. The petition was rescheduled for a month later, and by then, Celestia’s bottom had begun its journey to its modern divine roundness.
Princess Celestia claims benevolence, and rules with a velvet hoof...for no true opposition can rise so long as the mere shimmying of her flank can render the staunchest foe catatonic.
Songs have been written, and will be written, about the Princess’s plot. Poems, odes, stories, and of course, a great number of bawdy limericks whose recitation shall not be repeated here, for fear of offending the delicate sensibilities of those of tender mind and heart. Suffice to say that in the most lowbrow taverns of Canterlot, recitals do occur wherein the winner is he or she whom can pop the most monocles of the noblepony judges.They consider it great fun to slum amongst the bohemians who frequent such establishments, and all have a good time, save for those rare occasions the royal guard come tromping through and arrest everypony on trumped up charges of disturbing the peace.
They are always released by the next morning, and naught is further said, but we know. It is a warning, a reminder that while a certain amount of comedic ribbing is allowed, even encouraged, some knowledge is to remain the exclusive purvey of those deemed worthy.
Imagine, if you would, what would happen had the foes of Equestria mastered this art. How the wedding would have turned out if the entire Changeling Swarm had deployed bouncing black booties against the Elements of Harmony. There would have been no need to march Twilight and her friends under guard, for they would have followed without fuss and joined Celestia herself upon the ceiling.
Imagine if the Trixie had chosen to focus on making her posterior as great and powerful as her persona. Imagine if Discord had…
No, nevermind, do not imagine that! Forget that these words were ever written! Turn back, dear reader, there is only madness down that particular road.
Instead, imagine what could have been if Nightmare Moon had adopted her moniker not due to the celestial orb, but rather due to her desire to shake her cinnamon buns. Then again, had Luna been a little more fond of sugar, had Luna harnessed this deep magic without ever realizing what she was up to, she never would have known the neglect and solitude that comes from lacking adequate junk in the trunk, as some may so crudely put it.
A thousand years of suffering and solitude, caused by an over-reliance on proper diet and exercise. Truly, Celestia would come to be the wise one in her later years when she abandoned her martial youth for a more sedentary lifestyle.
And now, a word from our sponsors :
Do you lack a certain vim in your life? A certain vigor? Do you find yourself bereft of meaning? Do you feel JEALOUS of those who are more prosperous than you, because through luck were endowed with undeserved riches, talents, or other supposed ‘blessings’ that set them apart?
How would you feel to find out there is a new way? We have founded a blessed commune where all are equal. Where all are free of the disharmony brought upon by ‘special talents’. We are not a cult! We promise! We have muffins! They are not very good muffins, but you will come to like them, we swear!
Just take the train out to the end of the line, and take a short little walk, and ask for Miss Starlight Glimmer today!
Paid For By The Ponies Against Cutie Marks Commune
There, is that not better? Advertising is a great way to break up an otherwise boring show, because it reminds us it could be much worse. We could be trapped for hours listening to ponies trying to sell us shaving cream and hoof oil. By comparison, this is wonderful! We promise. We aren’t being paid to shill whatsoever by the creators of the Flim-Flam Co Booty Grow.
No, sweet reader. Our reputation means more to us than any amount of bits, even if that amount of bits is great enough to purchase a small island just off the coast of Baltimare where we may construct a secret laboratory and engage in unholy experiments in an attempt to harness this Booty Mark Magic for ourselves.
As a generous one-time offer, we will allow any who wish to utilize the phrase ‘Booty Mark Magic’ in their own writings. Consider it a gift, dear reader. A ‘we’re sorry’ for...unnamed crimes against Equestria.
We have gotten sidetracked. The fact is that when one looks at those mares in charge of Equestria, an inescapable conclusion arises : They do not rule because they are alicorns, or because they are possessed of some great magic.
Well, no. Actually, that is almost certainly a major factor. BUT! Look at which ponies wield the most influence. Celestia, cake-lover that she is, is the de-facto head of Equestria. Years after her return, Princess Luna is still within her sister’s shadow. Yet Cadance and Twilight?
Those two do not even attempt to conceal that Celestia has brought them under her nefarious tutelage. They fool nopony with the Sunshine Sunshine dance. It is a flaunting that they are the disciples of the Solar Princess, that they two aspire to hold sway over their own fiefdoms.
Twilight wasted no time recruiting when she was sent to Ponyville, you see. Applejack and Rainbow Dash, the elements of taut, trim fannies. Rarity, who was subverted, turned from her great crusade and distracted with shiny baubles. Where have her dreams of stardom gone? She may still talk the talk, but she walks a different walk. Pinkie Pie, who already was the disciple of Mrs. Cup Cake...and Fluttershy. We will not speak of Fluttershy for fear of bringing her wrath down upon us.
They say that Friendship is the strongest magic in Equestria. That is bollocks. The secret cult of pony plottists conspires in the shadows, always...thinging...and whatting. I...I...oh, hello there, Fluttershy. No! I was of course not speaking of you! Whyever would I do such a thing? No, please! I promise! It was a mistake! I was merely curious! I will burn all my writings! I swear! Don’t...don’t…
Dear Reader. If you have come across this manuscript, know that I was foolish. I was wrong. There is no conspiracy. These were but the words of a fevered mind. I am much better now. I am full of happiness and friendship. Friendship. The strongest magic of all. There is no other.
Hello, Everyone, Let’s Play More Everyday.
Author's Note
I think this story stands on its own merits. Anything further I say can all detract from it's MAJESTY.
