Chapters Somewhere deep in the EverFree, there’s a hut on the side of a hill. The hut is made of mud and straw, and the hill is ancient granite. A road leads to the hut, and the road is made of paths that wind like snakes through the forest, little animal tracks that converge like a river’s delta is spread. The road is inconsequential, the paths are only important because of their breadth. Some lead to Ponyville, some to Canterlot, some to even further reaches of Equestria, each winding a seemingly impossible trail made real. The paths, though, aren’t for the hut in the side of the hill. The hut is merely a passage, an extension of the inconsequential road. Even the hill is merely the cover, barely worth mentioning.
No, anypony that comes here isn’t looking for a hut, or a hill. They are looking for the caverns beneath, and one in particular. They aren’t looking for the winding tunnels that stretch underneath the EverFree, deep down underground into the depths. They aren’t looking for the connected Diamond Dog territories, or their riches. All those little impossible paths, that one road, the hut, and the hill all are for just one singular chamber in one singular cavern. This one particular chamber is of note, and like most things of import, it has a name.
It’s called The Den.
Light inside The Den is scarce, but present. There are rooms, tables, chairs, and couches covered in velvet, leather, and even fur and feathers. Drinks are served, cold or hot as ordered, and often the glasses are luminescent. If one were to describe The Den, one might think it merely a club, like the Frog Hop in Canterlot, or perhaps the high-class Crystal-Bit in Manehatten. But creatures don’t travel to the dangerous heart of the EverFree for expensive drinks, or the hazy atmosphere. They don’t come for the year round warm and humid air, or the occasional live music either.
They come specifically because it is the dangerous EverFree. There are only the laws of nature in the Everfree, and therefore The Den is governed by those laws. If you can’t find your pleasure in Manehatten, Canterlot, Las-Pegasus, or any other Equestrian city, it can be found in The Den, but only for a night. The Dogs that run it close The Den at dawn, and creatures have to crawl back to where they came from, often still in a drug fueled haze. More than one hung over pony has disappeared on the long trek home, perhaps taking the wrong widning path or veering off the trail and having an unlucky run in with a hydra.
But that’s for the day after, and ponies in particular don’t go to The Den to think of the day after. While in the Den, ponies don’t use bits. Bits don’t mean anything to the dogs that run it. Ponies bring other goods to trade. Gems in particular are well received, and can often net much more than they would back home. Other trade goods are exotic meats, illegal spell-books or artifacts, and lately more and more flesh.
The Den started as just another black market, run and controlled by dogs in the forest, but recently it’s become much more than a simple market place. Usually these places don’t last long, shut down by the princesses once they become known or popular, but the Den remains, immune to their scrutiny even as it’s popularity grows. Now Ponies come for fun, for a bit of excitement and adventure, hearing the rumors of debauchery and excess from their friends. And all they need to bring to indulge is a few gems, and maybe their own body.
Other creatures come as well. Diamond dogs from other packs looking for a bit of silica, young dragons looking for some fun, even griffons looking for a difficult, or illegal, cut of meat. With all the cultures clashing, the dogs had to come up with a few rules. Not laws of course, but something to reduce the number of angry griffons they had to throw out who thought they could get a flank steak from one of the regular clients. They decided to call the rules “Suggestions to avoid being dropped in the black pit” and kept them listed on a board over the entrance in all the languages they could muster
The suggestions were numbered, paw written in as needed, and at least loosely enforced.
Trade, don’t take.
NO FIGHTING <=inside or on the road!
Don’t damage The Den
Drinks cost gems, not bits.
Pay what you agree, or we’ll make you.<==LIMBS/MEAT!
Keep meat out of the club. It grosses out the ponies. Use meat-room.
EVERYBODY OUT AT DAWN. We don’t care where you go.
If you can’t handle your dose, don’t take it inside. Use dose-room.
DON’T BE AN ASSHOLE. <IMPORTANT!
As The Den grew in popularity, some rules had to be enforced more often, and some less often. Griffons tended to keep to the meat-room more often if that was their pleasure, and the dose room became the place to get high on anything dangerous. The dogs didn’t have to enforce these rules as much as the number of clients began to grow. However, the slew of new clients brought other problems. Ponies usually brought bits on their first trip, expecting to spend them and being disappointed. Dragons didn’t understand the concept of trade at first. Some creatures traveled far, and planned on staying through the day, either to hawk their wares or have some fun in the club.
The dogs only threw particularly egregious offenders into the pit, and rarely at that, but the threat was usually enough to keep the clients in line. Even the threat of dismemberment was really more of a threat than an actual consequence nowadays. Still, there were occasional offenders that they had to get creative with.
Take Ginger Root, for example.
Ginger Root was a golden reddish earth pony all the way from Appaloosa, and she had decided to purchase quite a bit of booze off the house. Unfortunately, as dawn broke and tabs were being cleared up, she barely even had any bits on her, let alone any gems to trade. Most ponies were smart enough to not let this happen. The penalty for otherwise was simply too harsh.
Ginger Root wasn’t most ponies.
Tiger, a large shaggy brown diamond dog in charge of the bar, and Granite Hoof, the slate gray earth pony bartender who had mistakenly served her, were deciding what to do with her now that the club was empty.
Granite Hoof was of the opinion they give her to the butchers, take their pound of flesh, and leave her as a tripod in the EverFree. Tiger wasn’t so sure.
“She die. You know for truth. Easier to just throw in pit. Even expensive booze not worth pit.” Tiger frowned.
“Yeah, but then the club gets its cut. Literally in this case. What happens to her is not our problem. What happens to us if the bosses decide we gave away free booze is.” Slate stamped his hoof, and glared at the still drunk, but terrified and sobbing pony.
Ginger Root had begged to go free, begged to suck their cocks, and promised to return with gems, all with no luck. Now she was just curled up in a ball on the floor crying.
“Too bloodthirsty for pony. You really pony?” Tiger scratched his nose thoughtfully.
“Yes, Tiger . I’m really a pony. For a dog named Tiger, you’re too damned soft. You should be named bunny or something.”
Tiger grunted in approval. “Bunny not bad name. Bunnies good diggers.”
“So, if you don’t want to take a leg, what do we do with her? It’s your bar, but you still work for the bosses here. You cannot have somepony not pay up.”
A slow small smile danced across Tiger’s face. “Tiger have good idea. Maybe smell gems in it. Not finished yet, but enough to start. Bosses like.”
Granite sighed, giving up his fight. “Well, the sun is up. It’s employees only. We need to deal with her quick and get ready for tonight. You’re my boss, and I’ve got other things I wanna do today. Like sleep. So lets just get on with it.”
Tiger picked up ginger by her scruff, looking the drunk and terrified pony in the face. “You lucky pony. You want to keep leg? You want to not go into pit?”
Ginger nodded, too afraid to say anything.
“Good. Then you want job. You stay and work. If pony asks, you employee. You work for Tiger. You understand?”
“I… Okay.” She blinked back some tears, suddenly hopeful that she’d be leaving with all of her limbs.
Granite frowned. “I’m not sure what you’re thinking, Tiger, but the bosses don’t like us using slaves. Say it tarnishes their grand free market economy and all that. You should just give her and her bill to the butchers.”
Tiger smiled wide. “Ginger pony is slave? Or is Employee?”
Ginger, drunk as she was, managed to catch on quick. “Employee?”
“Yes. Good pony. And who does Ginger pony work for?”
Ginger looked confused for a moment, and then answered slowly. “Ginger pony… I uhh… I mean… I work for Tiger.”
Granite grumbled. “Whatever. This is your problem. I’m gonna go wash my hooves and forget this whole thing ever happened. See you tomorrow, Tiger.” He glared sharply at the newly indebted drunkard. “And I guess you too, Ginger Pony .”
Ginger nervously smiled and weakly laughed, “Ha… ha… Yeah… uhh…” She glanced in a panic to Tiger and then back to Granite. “Um… You too?”
Tiger grabbed Ginger by her mane, and drug her out of the room. “Come. Sleep with Tiger, we talk, you work tomorrow.”
Ginger didn’t get a chance to complain, only make a surprised yelp as she was painfully drug out of the room.
As the ponies and dog left, the room was left dreadful silent while one of the bosses hummed in contemplation. The boss had been watching from an enchanted crystal to see how Tiger handled the situation, and still wasn’t sure.
Tiger had said there would be gems in it, and gems for tiger meant gems for The Den. Of course, he was bending the rules. The boss decided to wait and watch for now. No rules had been broken yet. Sometimes it took time for these things to shake out, so for the moment Ginger’s fate and future would be in Tiger’s greedy paws.
And she should be damn grateful for it.
Ginger was still drunk when Tiger roughly tossed her onto a dusty cushion on the floor of his little den. She dizzily looked around the room, trying to get her bearings and shaking off the pain from being dragged so far. There was only one small glowing rock in the top of the ceiling, providing a piddling amount of light for the room.
Shiny objects glinted across the walls, it looked as though he kept crystals and gems of various colors and types, but it was hard to tell in the dark. He had one large flat cushion, probably his bed, and a few smaller cushions that seemed to be chairs, like the one she was sitting on. The floor was un-worked dirt, and dust clogged her nostrils, but the few sniffs she got in let her know that the air was both stale and musty.
At least the cushion was soft. It felt super comfortable. Ginger lowered down onto it, resting her head. It was actually amazingly cozy, and it had the texture and warmth of...oh… it was fur.
Pony fur to be precise. Ginger gulped, reconsidering her decision to visit The Den for the hundred and forty second time that night.
While Ginger panicked, Tiger flopped down on a cushion next to her and scratched his ears. “Pony stay with Tiger. We talk about work. Ginger Pony say she suck cock? What else Ginger Pony do?”
Ginger rubbed her snout in the cushion, trying to clear the dust out of it. She briefly wondered if she was being disrespectful to the pony the fur came from. “Uhhh…” She was too drunk for this right now. This was heavy. “Anything?”
“Good. We decide on outfit for Ginger Pony first. Ginger pony like leather?”
Ginger’s head was swimming, so she stayed laying down. Wasn’t leather made from dead animals? “Not really.”
Tiger hummed to himself. “No leather… Fur expensive. Think Tiger have enough fur… Might need more.”
Ginger froze. “Wait… Umm… I don’t like fur either. Besides, I already have fur. Is naked an option? I’d prefer naked.”
Tiger continued humming. “Naked… Naked better anyways. But need something for bar to know you employee. No bad rumors...”
Ginger couldn’t lift her head. It was suddenly too heavy. Plus, the damn room kept spinning around her. “Just write my name down or something.”
Tiger reached over and patted her head. “No… Better idea! Draw mark! All ponies have mark, right?”
Ginger closed her eyes to keep from getting dizzier from the wobbly room. “Yeah. Cutie marks. All ponies have cutie marks.”
“Tiger have idea! Tiger make sign and Ginger Pony sleep. Ginger Pony too drunk, and making sign not pony work, anyways. No paws.”
Ginger would have been offended if she could stay conscious much longer, but instead she drifted mercifully off into a black abyss.
Meanwhile, in the dim light of the room, Tiger was working.
And he was sure that he had the absolute best idea ever.
_____
When Ginger woke up it was still too dark to see properly, and the room was sealed by a giant boulder in place of where the door would be. The air felt still and hot, like she was suffocating. Panic set in as her memories from the night before slowly came back.
She was on a trip from Appaloosa to visit her cousin, Carrot Top, when they had a fight. She’d gone to the local saloon to drink it off, only to find that Ponyville had much stricter alcohol and salt rules than Appaloosa. She’d drunkenly complained to one of the regulars, a black pegasus with a thundercloud as his mark, and after a blow job, he’d recommended the secret club known as The Den, and given her loose directions. She’d found it, it had been awesome, and then realized she’d left her bit bag somewhere. That’s when things had gone south. It turned out that sign out front wasn’t an empty threat, and she’d almost lost a leg when they realized she couldn’t pay up.
Why would you have a club in the middle of the EverFree? Even if she’d just been left outside drunk, she’d probably have been found and eaten by something. This place was the worst idea ever. Why had she even came again?
And now the big scary dog wanted her to… she didn’t even know! At least it was still sleeping. No, it was waking up.
The dog rolled out of bed, blinked at Ginger once or twice, and then jumped excitedly up to grab a large dark square and hold it in front of her face. “Pony! Almost work time. Ginger Pony ready? Tiger stay up late to make sign. Sign good?”
Ginger squinted at the sign, unable to read it in the dark. “Sign’s great there, Tiger. What am I doing again? I may have blacked out last night.”
Tiger barked a laugh. “Silly pony. You doing what on sign. No costume! We decided naked is best. Just sign. Lets go! Tiger need to get bar ready.”
Ginger shrugged to herself. Anything beat getting her leg chopped off. “Yeah. Sure. Lets go.”
The dog easily rolled the boulder out of the doorway, tucked the sign under his massive arm, and then grabbed Ginger by the hair.
This time she was sober enough to mostly keep up.
Now the Diamond Dog tunnels are not well lit, as the dogs see just fine in the dark and they mostly navigate by sense of smell anyways. So for Tiger, running through the pitch black tunnels was the easiest thing he’d done all morning. Unfortunately, it was terrifying for a pony. Most ponies that worked at The Den didn’t go down into the lower Diamond Dog tunnels, instead staying in a well lit and properly ventilated upper chambers, even after hours.
It was becoming increasingly clear that Ginger Root was not most ponies.
She found herself galloping at breakneck speed just to keep him from yanking painfully on her hair, and still being pulled sharply around tight corners. By the time the arrived at the well lit upper levels, she was afraid her hair was falling out, but she was too scared to check.
Breathless, she dropped and cradled her head as soon as he let her go. The floor was worked stone again, and the lights were bright here. Glancing up through teary eyes, she recognized the club room from the night before, except now it was well lit by several magic crystals. Ponies, dogs,and even a griffin were running around cleaning and organizing as they prepared for the upcoming night. It looked like there was a band setting up as well, a two pony group that had a timid looking small green pegasus on some kind of guitar and an imposing large orange unicorn playing a saxophone. They even had a little banner over them that said “MOM” with a runic heart thing and a picture of some kind of drink.
“Up late with your new Employee, Tiger? Never mind. Don’t wanna know. At least you’re here now. Everything’s on schedule today. Only thing is I took the liberty of making moms the nightly special, since they’re playing tonight and all.” Granite poked his head out from behind the bar as he was lining up the glasses for his first volley of drinks.
“Good work. Granite Pony always solid.” Tiger laughed and slapped the bar. “Also, have second special today. Made new sign. Put up next to menu.”
Granite frowned. “I don’t know anything about any new specials. You’re gonna have to tell me what is in it if you want me to mix it. Moms are easy, I’ve done plenty of moms before. Wouldn’t mind doing moms all night, actually.”
Tiger waved his paw dismissively. “No. You no make. See sign. This special.” Tiger tapped the sign pointedly “Read, put up. Tiger go help set up floor.” He gave the sign to Granite to inspect, and then suddenly ran away to help move one of the heavier tables.
Granite slowly shook his head at the excitable dog, and then looked down to read the sign he was holding. Curiously, Ginger watched as Granite’s eyes grew slowly wider. She’d hoped seeing another pony would make her feel comforted, but it wasn’t helping. He glanced up at her, flared his nostrils and laid his ears back, then looked back down to the sign.
This especially did not make her feel comfortable. Ponies were herd animals. They were comforted by green grass, lazy winds, and clean, running water. Instinctively, when a pony watches another pony panic, they have to panic as well. It is, in fact, the opposite of comforting. Ginger was trying very hard to find some comfort in this moment. She was not doing well.
Granite blinked at the sign once or twice, and then looked back at Ginger again as he swallowed his dismay into a neutral expression.
“So… Honestly, if it was me, I’d a rather have had my leg chopped off. Shower’s are in the back, right there. You’re gonna need them. I don’t know what Tiger is thinking, but it’s his bar, and his neck if he fucks it up. Go get washed up, I’ll put the sign up.”
Ginger really wanted to know what was on the sign now, but wasn’t sure how to ask.
“Mr. Granite, can I umm…”
Granite didn’t let her finish, waiving her towards the back. “Yeah. I’ll make you a drink for when you get out. I’m putting it on your tab, but, uhh… one drink ain’t gonna break you any more at this point. Now go get washed up. We’re putting out the lights in a few minutes and you gotta be ready to go. I… It’s your own damn fault.”
Ginger stepped carefully forward, about to correct him about her question.
“I said to shove off. I gotta put this up before Tiger gets back.” Granite glared at her.
Swallowing fearfully, Ginger walked to the back of the club, surprised to find a little employee room, complete with lockers, a shower, and what seemed to be a break room.
Unsure of what to do, she took a quick shower, and dried herself off under a surprisingly comfortable vent that was spewing hot dry air. It was almost like a hair dryer, but sized for an entire pony. This place was strange. In many ways it felt more advanced than the rest of Equestria. Was this Dog technology of some kind? Maybe it was geothermal vent, or a spell that made hot air, or maybe a sleeping dragon. No matter how it worked, it was convenient.
But the dogs lived in the dark, used giant rocks instead of doors, and spoke in broken Equish. Everything felt so backward. The draconian laws, the remote location, and even the strange path she’d taken to get here all didn’t seem to make sense. Everything about this place seemed bizarrely nonsensical. Why did she even come here? Because she gave a blow job to some stallion she didn’t know in a bar and lost her bits somehow?
Ginger briefly realized that something, somewhere, somehow was wrong. She was supposed to spend the week with her sister Carrot Top. Wasn’t Carrot top her cousin? Or was that Golden Harvest? She shook her head in confusion.
Why she was here didn’t matter. What was important was that she get out there before the lights turned off for the evening. Regardless of what happened, she did not want to lose her leg.
Satisfied that she was dry, Ginger Root put her musings on hold and made it back into the club room just as the lights went off. Temporarily blinded by the sudden darkness, as the club lights slowly turned on. Most of the room was dimly lit, providing a little privacy here and there. The only place that was well lit was the bar, and it drew her attention. When she looked at the illuminated menu, she finally saw it .
Next to the regular drink menu was a board that had the nightly special. It was the MOM, or the Mint Orange Mojito. They were two for the price of one, in honer of Mint Orange Melody, the band that was playing. That wasn’t the problem. Most bars had a drink special now and then. The problem was the menu next to that one, a large stone tablet that had crystal designs drawn into it.
The top said “Limited time special!”
Beneath that said “Tonight only, we have one Bar Bitch on tap.” Under that was a caricature of her, a golden red earth pony with a slightly over-sized, but easily identifiable cutie mark of a ginger root. Her Cutie mark. Ginger noticed that there was a small gathering around the sign as the club employees struggled to get a better view of it. There were more pictures and words, but she had to get closer to read it.
Carefully, she eased forward, hoping the other ponies wouldn’t see her in the dark.
The agonizingly slowly, the rest of the menu came into focus,complete with the strange symbols the bar used for pricing. Each line had a little cartoon caricature of her associated with the item.
*****
Give Oral ╣╤ / male and╠╦/ Female: 10M
Anal ╠╤ / one :10M
Vaginal ╠╣╦╤ / one:10M
Dance ╤+╪! / table :10M
Touch Her Nice ╞╝/ one:10M
Use her hooves ╔╗/any:10M
Anything Goes Table special! ╠╦╤╤+╪!/table: 30M
*Our Bar Bitch today is Miss Ginger Root. She couldn’t pay her very extensive bills from yesterday! Uh oh! But we made a deal because she’s a such a shiny little gem herself! She’s no expert, but if she can pay off her tab, she gets to go home! Help her get home with all her limbs intact! Tips are greatly appreciated, but please pay and schedule through our bartender! Our bar bitch can’t be trusted with gems just yet, no matter the carat! Be careful not to hurt her! We want her to go home safe!
*****
She was admittedly impressed with the pictures. Especially the one of her giving a cartoon blow job to something that looked suspiciously like a canine dick. The one that bothered her the most was the picture of her surrounded by other cartoon ponies. The anything goes special. It looked a little intimidating, even as a cutesy cartoon. At the very bottom, beneath the menu and the instructions, was a little picture of her again, this time smiling and giving a salute.
Ginger Root really didn’t feel like smiling.