Over the course of the following day, Hoofbeats considered a number of different tactics for negotiating with the church. She knew they would take issue with her products, but it couldn’t hurt to give it a try. However, no matter how hard she thought, every potential scenario ended in failure. She decided to turn to a professional.

Hoofbeats’ father was a practical bank manager named Shag Carpet. He always knew what to say, and she knew he could handle the situation much better than she ever could by herself. After further thought, she surmised that he must have dealt with the church before, considering how quickly he got the rubber trees set up.

He was sitting on a lounge chair in the living room, smoking a pipe and reading hoofball stats in the newspaper, in typical cartoon-dad fashion. You can rest assured that he had the proper accompanying moustache. Hoofbeats walked into the room.

“Dad?” she said

He looked up from his newspaper and adjusted his inerrantly paternal glasses. “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Well, I signed a marketing agreement with Nethertease, and the only way I’m going to have enough raw material to ship by August is if I buy from Church of the Sun. I just don’t know if I can get them to go against their values for me.”

Shag Carpet chuckled. “The funny thing about a cult,” he said, “is that most members don’t know it’s a scam.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It is?”

“Yeah, and if you want anything done, you have to go right to the top. The rubber workers won’t do business outside of their religion, but for a price you can get whatever you need from the leader.”

“Will you go with me and talk to him?”

“Of course.”

So, off they went. For the trip, Hoofbeats wore a long dress to cover her cutie mark. She noticed that most other ponies in the commune were also clothed. There were a few who weren’t and she noticed they all had interesting genitalia. She had heard some ponies still got circumcised, but she hadn’t seen it until now. She made careful note of their appearance, for future artistic endeavors.

The leader and founder of Church of the Sun was a steadfast stallion by the name of Corn Flake. He had a penchant for being in control, because it was comforting to him that his congregation was kept well in line. He was at his desk, putting the finishing touches on his weekly schedule, when his secretary buzzed him on the intercom.

“Mr. Carpet is here to see you,” she said.

Corn Flake smiled. He liked Shag Carpet because of the exorbitant price he was willing to pay last time for the rubber trees. “Send him in,” he said.

He and his daughter entered the office and were greeted by a warm hoofshake.

“Shaggy, it’s good to see you again! How is the balloon business?”

“It’s doing really well,” he replied, “We recently got a pretty large order, and we don’t have the resources to handle it ourselves. We’re going to need a couple hundred pounds of raw latex.”

“That’s a lot of balloons. You must have found a distributor. Would you like to set up a long-term contract?”

Hoofbeats and her father exchanged a concerned look. They needed an excuse to make this a one-time deal without sounding suspicious.

Hoofbeats spoke up. “We’ll be getting all future orders from Ponyville. If it’s good enough for Pinkie Pie, it’s good enough for me.”

Corn Flake couldn’t counter that without contradicting his church’s established views on the Elements of Harmony.

“Alright, I suppose that’s fine if that’s the route you want to go. But don’t expect any discount from me if I get no brand loyalty. I’ll charge twenty bits per Scootaliter and no less.”

“That’s outrageous!” Hoofbeats exclaimed.

The stallion shrugged. “Take it or leave it.”

“We’ll take it,” said Shag Carpet. He turned to his daughter. “It’s ok. It’s just one payment and we’ll recover the loss easily.”

So the deal was done. After some parting formalities, the ponies started to leave. As Hoofbeats stood up, her dress snagged on the wheel of her chair. She pulled on the skirt to free it, but accidentally popped a seam, leaving a long gash down the side and exposing her cutie mark.

Corn Flake looked her up and down. “Balloons, huh? What kind of business have I really been supporting?”

“It doesn’t matter as long as you get your profit,” Hoofbeats said.

“I have an important obligation to help unenlightened ponies find peace in the teachings of Celestia. I refuse to let my good reputation be tainted by associating myself with depraved ponies who spread the filth of inordinate desires.”

“Yeah, well fuck you too.”

Hoofbeats and Shag Carpet stomped out angrily.

Corn Flake scowled. He didn’t know what they were up to, but he needed to get rid of it before it became a problem.

Author's Note

"Profit is simply a by-product we've learned to live with."
X-S Tech

I kind of wanted to be subtle about Corn Flake's name without explicitly stating the reference, but I don't think very many people are in the know, so here I go: J. H. Kellogg was extremely religious and invented Corn Flakes as an anti-masturbatory aide. Check it out http://mentalfloss.com/article/32042/corn-flakes-were-invented-part-anti-masturbation-crusade .
Anyway, sorry for focusing so much on the business side. Sexiness coming soon, I promise.