Scotchie Does Ponyville

Butterscotch sat outside the Queequeg’s by the train station, sipping a frappuccino and listening to Lilith scold him. He was wearing sunglasses, partly to express the unaccustomed self-confidence he currently felt, and partly to hide the redness of his eyes. He was also still wearing the tighty whities, because they really were a daring fashion statement.

“Yes, Lilith. I understand it’s hard without me there.”

She crossed her forelegs and glared at him.

“Yes, I know Rainbow Blitz is incompetent.”

She stamped her foot.

“You already told me the squirrels have taken over the kitchen.” He set down his drink and lifted Lilith with both hooves. “But you have to understand that I have a destiny. I’m on a quest. A hero’s journey, if you will, to unlock my inner bunny. You’ll have to make do without me for a little while.”

Lilith sighed in disgust, hopped out of his hooves, and took off across the railroad tracks and back towards the cottage.

Scotch adjusted his glasses. Last night had made it clear to him — sex was disgusting. It was filthy, and dirty, and shameful, and wrong. But he loved it, and he was good at it. So he had some exploring to do. Maybe a mare, tonight? He still wasn’t sure if he was gay or not. Yes, a mare would be lovely. They were in short supply in Ponyville, but there was no need to worry. He had all day.

———

Scotch slunk through the street market, following Pink Lady while trying to stay out of her line of sight. He wasn’t stalking her. He was just shy.

She was a fine mare. Tall and muscular, with breathtaking filly-next-door good looks. A little shaggy, sure, and maybe a little sweaty a lot of the time. But still someone he’d always wished he could spend more time with. And she was Applejack’s sister, so there was a personal connection. He could do this. He just needed a little more time to work up his nerve. Maybe he should get her a flower? Did she like flowers?

She was comparing denim varieties at the fabric stall. Bent over the swatch book, her bobbed tail lifted. Scotch bit his lower lip. Speaking of flowers. he knew it was rude to look, but he couldn’t help himself. There, nestled in between those massive, powerful cheeks was the sweetest, poutiest pair of mare lips he’d ever seen. Not that he’d had a chance to examine many closely, but still. They were nice. And her smooth, perfect ponut made his back knees wobble. He looked around. Where was the florist’s stall? He looked back towards her, and she was gone.

He heard a hoofstep behind him. A mare cleared her throat. He tucked his tail between his legs and turned towards her.

“Can I help you with somethin’?” Pink Lady glared down at him, gorgeous green eyes full of annoyance.

“Um, no. No, I’m fine. Just… doing some shopping.” Scotch grinned nervously, gesturing around as if to indicate his complete lack of shopping bags.

“You’ve got your sexy pants on. You’ve been followin’ me around all morning. And I just caught you starin’ at my butt.” She leaned forward, her nose pressing against his. He shuffled backwards, blushing furiously. “Is there somethin’ you were wantin’ to tell me?”

Scotch wanted to flee. He wanted to turn tail and run. But no. This was the new Scotch. He was going to be up front and secure about his sexuality. “I was just… thinking about how beautiful you were.”

Pink Lady raised her head, and looked at him sidelong, as if trying to decide how to take this. “Okay. Anything else?”

Scotch gulped. “And I was wondering if you’d like to go back to my place for a little while. Or yours, actually. I can’t go back to my place right now.”

She slapped him and walked away.

“Oooowwww!” groaned Scotch, upside down in a vase in the potter’s stall the next row over. He took some comfort in the fact that she hadn’t hit him as hard as she could have. He felt a magical grip on one leg, and a pair of hooves on the other, and he was hauled out into daylight again.

“Nice one! You’ve got some bollocks on you,” said the gray earth pony. His white unicorn friend nodded.

Scotch turned pale. “You saw what happened?”

“The whole thing,” said the earth pony.

Scotch considered trying to crawl back into the pot. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You think I’m disgusting, don’t you?”

“Quite the contrary, mate! You’re just the kind of bloke we’re looking for. We’re on the prowl, if you take my meaning. Looking for a bit of slap and tickle -- you know, the old ‘how’s your father’. We could use a scrapper like you in our corner. That is, if you don’t mind sharing.”

The unicorn nodded in agreement.

Scotch blinked, unsure whether they were coming on to him or not. “Um, okay.”

“Anyhow, since you don’t seem to recognize us on sight, let me make some introductions. I’m Treble Clef, and short, pale, and silent over here is Breakdown, better known as DJ COL7. The absolute apotheosis of the classical and contemporary music scenes, respectively. A bit ahead of our time, but in five years, you’ll be saying you knew us back when.”

“Um, I’m Butterscotch. But my friends call me Scotch.”

Treble thrust out a hoof. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Scotch. Shall we, then?”

———

They weren’t coming onto him. They were trying to pick up mares. That made sense. And they wanted him to help. That didn’t make sense.

“So the thing you’ve got to do, if you want to get laid a lot, is just keep asking for it. There are various techniques people advocate, but nothing beats the law of averages. Right, mate?” Treble said. Breakdown gave him a hoof bump. “But it's a small town,” Treble continued, “and sometimes you try the same mare a few too many times.”

Breakdown nodded towards farmer Buckwheat’s stall, where Carrot Cake was placing an order.

Scotch gulped. “Her?”

“That’s right,” said Treble. “Take a moment to take her all in. Those legs! Those legs literally never stop.”

Scotch looked confused. “But they do. They stop at her barrel.”

“Well, figuratively literally, not literally literally. But they’re pretty damn long. And she’s a ginger! I bucking love gingers! Have you seen her husband, though? Fat little troll. She can’t be happy with him. But somehow we haven’t been able to bring her around. So, we were wondering if you could have a go?”

Scotch wanted to point out that if she’d married Chocolate Cake, there must be something she liked about him, but he found his mouth wouldn’t work. When he didn’t leap into action, Treble and Breakdown pushed him towards her, his hooves churning up the ground beneath him. When they had him close enough that Mrs. Cake noticed him, they darted for cover.

“And fifty pounds of rolled oats. Oh! Butterscotch! Can I help you with something?” She tossed her head and smiled her wide, pretty smile. Her mane was always a bit sloppy from being under a hairnet all day, but it shimmered red and gold in the sunlight.

“Nothing,” squeaked Scotch. “Nothing at all. Just saying hi.” Brave new Scotch or not, he didn’t want to be slapped again. Also, adultery was not cool. Not cool at all.

She leaned down until her head was level with his. “I couldn’t help noticing your new friends.”

“I just met them. They’re… um… Nice? Possibly?”

“They’re really not. I hope they’re not a bad influence on you. Anyway, when you go back to them, would you tell them that the muffin shop is closed, and to stop bothering me?”

Scotch nodded and fled.

“Well, that was disappointing,” said Treble as Breakdown dragged Scotch out from behind the cheese stall by the tail. “Maybe we shouldn’t have sent you out solo so soon.”

“Mrs. Cake says the muffin shop is closed? Whatever that means?”

A passing gray mail pegasus froze in midair, his eyes wide in alarm, then raced off, wings churning.

“And I don’t know about this, guys,” Scotch continued. “I don’t want any more mares mad at me.”

Breakdown whistled, and nudged Treble in the shoulder. He pointed over at two teenage mares, not much older than Swishy. Scotch knew them — plump, curvy little Sugar and tall, gangly Spice, with her long neck and curiously compelling buck teeth. “Yoo hoo! Over here, colts!” said Sugar. Spice winked at them, and they walked away, waggling their rumps and giggling. Breakdown began to follow at a trot, a goofy grin on his face.

“Tally bucking ho,” said Treble, taking off after them.

“Aren’t they a little young?” said Scotch, hurrying to catch up. He didn’t really have the moral high ground after what he’d done to Swishy last night, but he still felt like he needed to point it out.

“They’re legal, mate. If there’s chalk on the field, it’s time to play ball. Anyway, can’t you smell? They’re in heat.”

Scotch inhaled, and the smell was definitely there. His underwear began to get tighter. He decided he could safely say he liked mares. “I don’t know about this.”

The two fillies lead them to the edge of town. Whenever Treble or Breakdown got close enough to get a good whiff of their heat musk, they took off, running and giggling. Scotch hung back. Something was off about the situation, and not just because it was so morally questionable. When Sugar and Spice got to a copse of trees on the edge of town, they stopped and turned around. “Hey boys,” said Spice, wiggling her hips saucily. “You want some of this?”

“Buck yes,” said Treble.

“Then why don’t ya’ join us in the bushes?” said Sugar, looking like she was struggling not to laugh.

Breakdown started to pronk. Treble whistled. “Right out in public, huh?”

Sugar snickered. “We’re a couple of really nasty fillies! C’mon.” And they ran in amongst the undergrowth. Breakdown and Treble dove in after them.

When Scotch didn’t follow, Treble stuck his head out of the bushes. “You coming, mate?”

Scotch shook his head. “No.”

Treble shrugged. “More for us.” And he vanished again. There was silence, followed by screams, laughter, and disturbing splatting sounds. Sugar, Spice, Iron Crown, and Silver Scepter ran out of the back of the copse laughing and looking over their shoulders. Moments later, Treble and Breakdown slumped out, covered in raw egg, leaves, and bits of twigs.

“So. Homo again tonight?” said Treble. Breakdown sighed, and nodded.

———

A few hours later, they were washed up and sitting on Treble and Breakdown’s couch, watching porn and giving each other hoofjobs. Or rather Scotch was giving them hoofjobs, since they’d figured out he was willing to stroke both of them without reciprocation. He was feeling a little imposed upon. It wasn’t a lot of fun, either. This sort of thing was a nice way to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon with Blitz, but that was because he loved Blitz. Doing it to strangers was dull.

The porn was awful, too — a badly shot, boringly lit straight stag reel about two ugly stallions hammering artlessly at a mare who kept glancing at her watch.

“Um… I don’t want to be rude. But couldn’t we just have sex?” said Scotch. He’d started out hard, but he was starting to get floppy, and he didn’t want to hurt his new friends’ feelings.

“That’d be gay, mate,” said Treble.

“It’s pretty gay already,” said Scotch

“Not if you focus on the porn and don’t call attention to the bloody situation,” said Treble, sounding annoyed. Breakdown took a sip from his can of soda and nodded in agreement.

Scotch bit his lower lip. He took a deep breath. Brave new Scotch. “I can put your thingies in my mouth,” he suggested, as quietly as he could. Treble’s eyes bugged out of his head. Breakdown spat out his soda.

“That’s bloody extremely gay, mate,” said Treble, scooting away from Scotch.

Scotch narrowed his eyes. “Not if you don’t call attention to the situation. Just pretend I’m the mare on the screen.”

Treble rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Scotch went for the heavy artillery. “I have a big mouth. And I swallow.”

Breakdown patted his lap. Scotch took a deep breath, and got on his knees in front of him. He took Breakdown’s cockshaft between his hooves and lowered his head to lap at the white unicorn’s light pink balls. The were silky, and smelled clean. Breakdown’s hips shivered. “Oh buck!” he moaned in a soft tenor voice, the first words Scotch had heard him utter all day. Scotch grinned, and licked the underside of the unicorn’s cock, tracing the lines of the veins with his tongue.

“Cor! He’s a right natural!” said Treble. Scotch glanced up to see the earth pony staring at them. Breakdown pointed emphatically at the TV screen. “Oh, right. Sorry mate. Here, let me skip ahead to find a blowjob bit.”

Scotch popped the mottled pink and cream head of the cock into his mouth. He couldn’t tell where Breakdown’s eyes were fixed because of the sunglasses, so he didn’t bother to make eye contact. He’d always felt like that was weird, anyway. He closed his eyes and focused on the taste and the texture. He felt a hoof on the back of his head. Suddenly, rudely, he was shoved down the cockshaft, gagging loudly as it was forced into his throat. He batted the hoof away and pulled his head back. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t enjoy that. I’m not a porn star. I’m not being paid for this. I only want to do fun stuff.” He bit back an ‘if that’s okay with you’. He had some self-esteem, darn it. Just not very much.

“Sorry,” mumbled Breakdown, blushing.

“It’s okay.” Scotch patted him on the knee, and went back to sucking his cock. He hummed around the shaft, and Breakdown moaned. It was a lovely cock. Pretty, silky, and not too big. Breakdown wasn’t getting any deepthroat action after that gagging stunt, though.

“Hey, don’t hog him, mate,” said Treble, scooting over towards them. Breakdown pushed him away, and they started to struggle like two colts fighting over a game controller.

Scotch scooted away in alarm. “Please don’t fight,” he said. “I can do you both at once. Come on. Stand up, side by side.”

They reluctantly agreed. Scotch shivered. Sucking off two stallions at once had been a fantasy of his since… well, since about a month ago when he’d sucked Blitz’s cock for the first time. But still. It was pretty hot. He wiggled in under their barrels, and took the shafts in his hooves, tilting them both towards the center line.

“No gay stuff, now,” warned Treble. Scotch ignored him. He tasted the earth pony’s gray-and-black cock. Thick. Salty. Delicious. He bobbed on it for a minute or so, then popped it free, spattering drool. He turned to Breakdown’s dick and bobbed back and forth happily for a while. Maybe he’d give a little deepthroat. The colt hadn’t meant any harm, after all. He just thought real sex was like porn, the big silly. He opened his jaw wide, and let the slim head slide down his throat. He made gurgling noises, just for effect. Breakdown’s legs started to shake.

Scotch pulled his head back. “Easy,” warned Scotch, feeling like a pretty little porn starlet. “I don’t want you two coming too soon.” He switched to Treble, deepthroating him, too. His dick was a little bit bigger than Breakdown, but Scotch could still swallow it without too much trouble. Scotch’s heart glowed with pride. He was a natural.

“Take your time, mate,” said Treble, “I haven’t had a blowjob this good in I can’t remember when. Could you maybe make your voice a little higher, though? So you sound like a mare?”

Scotch ignored him and deepthroated Breakdown again. He could get quite a long way down his slim dick — all the way to the balls, after a few tries. Breakdown rose up on his tippy-hooves, shaking. Scotch couldn’t resist swallowing around the cock until Breakdown started to scream. Then he pulled all the way back and placed it on top of his nose so that the stream of cum hit him right between his clenched-closed eyes. He grinned and giggled as cum matted his eyelashes, rolled down his cheeks, and plastered his bangs to his forehead.

“Bloody Solaris on a stick, did he just take a facial?” said Treble, voice trembling with disbelief.

“I’m a nasty filly,” said Scotch, affecting a little bit of a lisp. Wow. He was really getting into this gay thing. He dove for Treble’s dick, sucking it hard and fast until the colt started dancing from hoof to hoof. Then he pulled back, and let the load soak his face, adding to the mess Breakdown had left.

“If you were a filly I’d marry you, mate,” said Treble.

“I’m taken, sorry. Could you hand me some tissues, if it’s not too much trouble?” said Scotch, climbing up onto the couch. His cock was hard and pulsing, thick flare bouncing against his slim chest with every heartbeat. “Now,” he said, wiping off his face, ”it’s my turn. Who wants to go first?”

Treble’s jaw fell open. Breakdown turned even paler than he already was. Scotch started to giggle.

———

The next morning, Butterscotch was on top of the world.

After he’d made Treble and Breakdown suck him off and swallow his load, he had excused himself and fluttered off to Day Tripper’s place for an innocent cuddle and a couple of joints. “Be true to yourself,” Tripper had told him. It had sounded pretty deep at the time, and honestly, it still did, even though in the clear light of morning he realized it was a cliché. Gay or bi, he’d just be who he was, and everything would fall into place. For now, he’d flap over to Sugarcube Corner for some coffee and muffins. Or maybe they weren’t making muffins any more? What Carrot Cake had said to him yesterday had been confusing. So maybe a sandwich, instead. He’d slept late; it must be lunch time by now.

He squeaked in alarm as a teal thunderbolt dove out of the heavens and tumbled him to the ground. “Hey, big brother,” said Wandering Winds, rubbing her hoof against the top of his head. “Mind if I crash at your place for a couple of days?”

“Wanda!” said Scotch, his tone wavering on the edge of the Voice. “You’re supposed to be in Manehattan. Doing your job.”

“I’m talking a couple of weeks off! I thought I’d drop by unannounced. Revisit old times, you know?” She batted her eyelashes and walked past her brother, rubbing sides and wings together and flicking her tail in his face.

“I thought we weren’t ever going to talk about that again,” said Scotch, his courage wavering. He tucked his knees together, trying to hide his body’s reaction to his sister’s all too familiar smell.

“Yes,” whispered Wanda, “it was going to be our dirty, shameful little secret, wasn’t it?”

Scotch nodded. Their parents were incredibly naive. He and his sister had shared a room for far too long, and once their bodies had started developing, exploration had been… he didn’t want to say inevitable. He should have been the strong one. But it had happened. “Exactly,” said Scotch, trembling with anger and shame. “So why are you talking about it now?”

“I just miss you soooo much, Big Brother!” said Wanda.

Scotch narrowed his eyes. “You got fired, didn’t you?”

Wanda hunched down, and grinned at him nervously. Scotch facehoofed. “Wanda!”

“Sorry. So, your place? Just for a day or two?”

“What did you do? What did you do to get yourself fired?”

She shrugged. “I skipped work a few times. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

Scotch’s head throbbed. “Wanda, you need to start learning to solve your own problems. I’m sorry, but I’ve helped you as much as I can.” He got up and started to walk away.

“It’s okay,” said Wanda. “I already went by your place. Blitz says I can crash with him any time. You know, in exchange for favors.”

Scotch froze.

“He thinks he took my innocence. He doesn’t know about us,” she said.

Scotch tried to walk away. His hooves wouldn’t leave the ground.

“Just think of it. Poor widdle Wanda, all alone with dirty Mister Blitz. Oh!” she gasped and put her hooves to her cheeks, “What if he takes advantage of my low self-esteem!”

Scotch let his posture droop. “Fine. Fine. Come on, we’ll go back to my place.”