A Filly Named Jailbait

She's doing it on purpose. She has to be.

Standing by the window in your Canterlot apartment, you watch as all the colorful ponies walk past. All but one. A tiny pink pegasus filly sits in the grass across the street, directly in front of your window view. Normally, you wouldn't think much of this; she might be waiting for her parents or something. But the way she's been acting is... off. It started out innocent enough. You would scan the crowd, and occasionally make eye contact with the filly. She would quickly look away and giggle a bit. You just chalked that up to shyness. Then things got weird. You would glance at her every few minutes, and each time she'd be in an increasingly provocative position, stretching her small form, always with the same coy smile on her face. You think she's trying to be provocative, anyway. She's too cute to give you anything more than a half-chub.

By this point, you've abandoned watching the other ponies. You can't pull your gaze away from the miniature flexipone for more than a few seconds. It's been almost half an hour, and she's currently leaning back on her front hooves with her tiny wings straight behind her. Her back is arched, and her hind legs are spread wide in a perfect split. She has her tail in her mouth, positioned carefully to hide her naughty bits from view. Not that you want to see. You may be a depraved horsefucker, but you're proud to say you still have standards, low as they may be.

I need to stop while I still can. I should be looking for a job right now, anyway.

Sighing, you close the window and make your way into the living room. You flop onto the couch and grab the newspaper from the coffee table at your feet. You don't need to pay rent because Celestia says you're technically an ambassador for the humans. The only problem is, there aren't any other humans as far as anyone knows. And no one else seems to think that's weird. Ponies are a little too accepting of weird shit. They freak out about something for a few minutes, and then it's treated as normal. A fucking goat-lizard chaos demon appeared and made it rain chocolate. The next day, they're back to doing pony shit like nothing happened. Nobody has even mentioned it since then. It's unnerving.

Flipping to the classifieds, you begin the arduous task of job-hunting in a world where one's job is determined by the tattoo on their ass. Most of the ads are price listings for junk items ponies want to get rid of. There's only a handful of 'help wanted' ads, and they're mostly manual labor for shit pay, or volunteer work for no pay at all. Fuck that.

One job catches your eye. Foalsitting. The pay is marginally worse than carrying bricks, but you won't have to move very much. Besides, it's not like you have many options at the moment.

Aren't there professional foalsitters? I'm pretty sure I saw a few cutie marks with bottles and diapers. Why would they need to put an ad in the paper?

Mentally shrugging, you jot down the address and head out.

The building is easy enough to find. Nestled between a police station and a candy store is a small restaurant called The Honey Pot. You check the address again, just to be certain.

The owner probably lives upstairs. Maybe I can get some free food out of this.

You walk through the door, a bell ringing above you to announce your arrival. The interior is spacious and almost empty. The tables are placed far apart, and the only diners are a few off-duty cops and an old couple. The couple appears to be locked in a battle of wills, trying to see who can live the longest. They're both losing.

The light blue mare behind the counter smiles at you. "You must be Anonymous the human, right?" You simply nod. "My name is Ambrosia. Welcome to The Honey Pot! What can I get for you?"

"Sorry, I'm not here to eat. I'm actually here for the foalsitting ad you put in the paper." You briefly wonder if you should have brought the newspaper with you.

"Oh, wonderful! That was fast; we placed that request only this morning," the mare says as she walks out from behind the counter. "You'll want to talk to my husband about the details. Follow me."

She leads you to the far corner of the restaurant where the cops are chatting and sipping coffee. She gently knocks off the nearest stallion's hat onto the table with a giggle. "Noble, dear, this is Anonymous. He's here to watch JB while we're out tonight."

"Already? That didn't take long," the chubby yellow pegasus laughs as he turns to face you, ignoring his hat. The name on his badge reads 'Detective N. Trapment.' It looks new, or at least very well-polished. "Nice to meet you, Anonymous. I'm Detective Noble."

You don't miss the emphasis on 'detective' or the swelling of his chest as he introduces himself.

"He just got promoted and we're going out tonight to celebrate," Ambrosia explains with barely-contained giggles.

"Congrats," you awkwardly mumble. "So, uh... who am I watching and when do I start?"

"You'll be watching our daughter, Jailbait. The restaurant closes in about an hour, so you can just wait here until she gets back from ballet practice if you want." Noble keeps talking, but you zone out as one word echoes in your head.

Jailbait? He's joking right? No one in their right mind would actually name their kid that, not even in magical horse land... That poor filly.

"Is that okay with you?" Noble finishes talking.

"Um... sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I just wanted to know if you would be okay with spending the night here. You'll be paid for the extra hours, of course. We plan on getting a hotel room and really celebrating," he says as he wiggles his eyebrows at his wife. The other three stallions start snickering.

Way too much info, dude. "Sure, I guess." Money is money, and this is still better than carrying bricks.

"Perfect! Thank you so much for this, it's been a while since we've had some time to ourselves." Ambrosia's smile looks painfully large.

"It's really no problem, I just need to grab some stuff from my apartment. I should be back in about twenty minutes," you say over your shoulder as you quickly retreat to the door. You pass by the old couple and notice they haven't moved since you entered. You aren't even sure if they're breathing.

Not my business.

"Toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, change of clothes." You cross the items off your imaginary checklist and throw them all into a small, brown man-bag. It looks like a purse, but it's a fucking man-bag. That salespony clearly had no idea what she was selling. "Okay, that's everything."

Except my dignity. That shit's back on Earth.

Now that you know the route, you make your way back to The Honey Pot at a much quicker pace. The sun is just starting to touch the horizon when you reach your destination. The bell rings again, causing Ambrosia to glance up from the pile of bits she was counting. She's still grinning. Your jaw hurts just looking at her. You notice the old couple is gone. It seems like one of them won and carried the loser out. Or they were kicked out before they could finish dying.

"Welcome back, Anonymous," Noble calls from his corner booth. The other officers are gone, leaving the restaurant empty aside from you and the owners. "Jailbait just got here a few minutes after you left. She's taking a bath right now. I'll introduce you two once she gets out."

"Oh, I have an idea," Ambrosia chimes in. "Noble, sweetie, come finish counting this while I make Anon here something to eat as thanks for helping us on such short notice."

Free meal. Fuck yes.

"Sure thing, pumpkin," Noble responds in an overly-sweet tone. The cutesy name bullshit is starting to get on your nerves.

With nothing else to do at the moment, you take a seat at the nearest table and wait for your meal. You are content to sit in silence and think about the various pony asses you've encountered. You've never gotten a good look at Celestia from behind, but you can fantasize. God damn can you fantasize.

Noble finishes counting the bits and decides to ruin your moment by sitting across from you and breaking your focus. "Well, since we've got a few minutes, I guess I can give you the rundown. Jailbait is severely allergic to wasps; she swells up like a balloon and can't breathe." He passes you a small, plastic tube. "Stick her with this if she gets stung, and then immediately take her to the hospital."

Great, I have to actually pay attention to make sure she doesn't die. Fan-fucking-tastic.

"Noted." You place the pony-EpiPen in a side pouch of your man-bag.

"Next, she likes to stay up late and sleep in. She's a responsible girl, so we've never needed to give her a set bedtime. Besides, it's summer. All the foals basically become nocturnal when school is out," he chuckles heartily. He reminds you of Santa, with his jolly demeanor and pudgy gut.

"I'm a bit of a night owl myself, so I have a feeling we'll get along just fine," you say with a smirk. It's your first semi-genuine smile since waking up.

"Good, you already have something in common!"

His smile suddenly drops. You see the warmth in his eyes drain away. It feels like the temperature in the room has dropped several degrees.

Noble leans forward. "Now listen here, son. I am a public defender of Canterlot. I have the power to put you behind bars for the rest of your life. It is my sworn duty to uphold the law above all else, but that's my little girl up there. I don't care if you're the Princess herself, if I find you treating her poorly, I will end you. Understood?"

You sit there in shocked silence as Noble stares at you. You're thankful you haven't eaten anything today, because you're pretty sure you tried to shit yourself.

Finally forming a cohesive thought, you respond in a shaky voice, "Y-yes, sir."

Noble nods once and leans back in his chair. Instantly, his demeanor flips back from angry father to goofy dad. "Don't take it personally, Anon. You'll understand if you ever have foals one day."

You laugh nervously, but before you can reply, Ambrosia walks in with a steaming plate on her back. "Dinner. Is served," she says in a dramatic voice. "I made enough for two, since Jailbait hasn't eaten yet. Enjoy!"

"That filly still isn't done washing? What, did she fall asleep in the tub?" Noble stands up and huffs. "I'm gonna go check on her," he calls over his shoulder as he walks toward the door Ambrosia just emerged from.

Ambrosia takes Noble's seat at the table and watches you expectantly. The food smells heavenly. Before your stomach has a chance to complain, you remove the cover from one of the two plates.

Fucking ponies, man. How do they all not have diabetes?

The dish in front of you is bread pudding with honey drizzled on top. Not the most healthy meal in your eyes, but ponies run on pure sugar and rainbows, so you shouldn't be surprised. It tastes as good as it smells, and you clean your plate in less than a minute.

Ambrosia laughs as you lick the honey from your fingers. "Well, If I knew you were this hungry, I would've made more!"

You briefly consider sneaking bites of the remaining dish. Kids are small, so they don't need as much food, right? Your stomach certainly thinks so.

"She'll be down in a sec," you hear Noble say as he opens the door. You get a brief glimpse of a kitchen before the door swings shut.

"What was taking her so long?" Ambrosia voices your thoughts.

"She was fixing her mane and tail. She said she had to be 'presentable for the foalsitter,'" Noble sighs. "Why can't we get her to put that much effort into looking good for her recitals?"

"Oh, you know she loves ballet too much to worry about how she looks onstage. She just wants to get out there and dance."

Noble starts to reply, but he's cut off by a loud, adorable squeak. Everyone at the table turns to look at the pegasus filly standing in the kitchen doorway. She's small, even for a filly, and she doesn't have a magical tramp stamp. Her coat is bubblegum pink and shiny from recent brushing. Her mane and tail are honey yellow, slightly darker than her dad's coat. A baby blue hairband holds back her short mane, matching her eyes. You recognize her as the same filly that was stretching in the grass near your apartment a few hours ago.

"Oh." Great opener, Shakespeare.

"Hm?" Ambrosia breaks the silence. "Do you two already know each other?"

Clearing your throat, you quickly defend yourself before Jailbait can reveal that you were watching her stretch for half an hour. You don't want to seem like a pedo when her dad's a fucking cop. "I saw her outside my apartment earlier today. I didn't know she'd be the one I'm supposed to watch."

"Is that a problem?" Noble speaks up. You can detect a hint of malice, and you really don't want to push this guy.

"No sir, no problem at all!"

Noble narrows his eyes and stares into your soul.

"Well, I suppose introductions are in order, then!" God bless you, Ambrosia. "JB, this is Mister Anonymous. He's going to be your foalsitter for tonight. You need to listen to him and be respectful, okay?"

"Yes, Mom." She appears to have gotten a boost in confidence after her initial shock at seeing you. She's now smiling at you, showing none of the shyness from before. In fact, she's... smirking?

What?

"Have fun, you two!" You turn to see Ambrosia dash out the front door; Noble is already gone.

"This is a pleasant surprise," Jailbait whispers in a seductive voice.

That is not right. Children aren't supposed to be seductive!

"I just wanted to tease you while I was getting ready for ballet practice, but now I get to play with you all night, Mister Anonymous."

What.