Then you saw her.

Sweetie Belle didn't even look at you. She walked straight past you, eyes to the floor, but you could see the smudge of her mascara, you could smell the faint scent of shame. If there'd been any doubt in your mind, it'd been confirmed now. And she didn't even have the heart to face you this morning, to make an excuse, to say something. You paused, clearing your throat, and she did the same. You waited for a handful of seconds, seeing if she'd turn around, if she'd put on a brave face, but she faltered. Nothing came of it, and you carried on walking until you were at your door. You didn't have anything to say to her either.

But... but. You could handle it. You'd woken up today with a positive mindset, you knew you had. You could handle this just so long as you kept your head straight, remembered Lyra's words. Sure, your girlfriend had just cheated with you with your fucking foster brother and walked past you if you were a Celestia-damned stranger, but that was fine. You could handle it. You just had to not let it get to you. Not stoop down to their level. Couple of days and you'd be focussing on something else. A few more and it'd lose its sting. Two weeks? You'd forget it ever happened.

Deep breaths. You unclenched your fists out of necessity to open the door. You hadn't even realised you'd balled them up. This wasn't what was meant to happen. You were meant to say what you thought to her. You were doing this wrong! You were bottling things up, getting angry again already. This wasn't what you'd had in mind for today.

You opened the door before ducking inside, leaning against the glass once it was closed and taking a few breaths. You felt wobbly, and you were sure it wasn't the hangover. The mental fortitude you'd acquired was straining already. Part of you wished you'd stayed out longer.

This was going to be okay, you just needed a little more time. Avoid Button Mash. Avoid your mom. Take some sober time to think all of this through, find a healthy outlet. Once you're calm, you'll be able to talk to Sweetie properly about all of this, and get it off your chest. She probably doesn't hate you, even if you're not exactly fond of her right now. She likely didn't have the strength to talk to you today, that's all. You knew you didn't.

You're fine. You can get through this. Just go to your room and sleep off the rest of this hangover. Hell, look, you were becoming your own mother. Did that turn you on? No. This coping stuff was working.

You kicked off your shoes and shuffled up the hallway, thankful to see Button's door closed. Just a few more steps to go...

And there the cunt was, sitting in your fucking room. The room he defiled with her. You needed to stay calm, no matter what he did. You knew that. He greeted with you a smile, gesturing you inside, then pointed over to the torn up shreds of paper on the floor. "See you got my note?" came his snarky, mirthful tone.

You couldn't kill him. Authorities would get involved and you didn't know how to hide a body. You put every iota of willpower you could into relaxing the muscles in your face enough not to snarl. Don't show him how pissed off you are. Keep yourself contained. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"And yet you're still not locking your door," he grinned with a glint of too-perfect teeth.

Yup. Somehow in your rage fuelled rush from the house last night, you'd forgotten that. "You slept with my girlfriend," you stated, rather simply. Figured it was best to put it out in the open, it might help you to keep yourself level and not explode.

"I mean, come on... she wasn't really your girlfriend," Button defended, waving his arms in defence. You simply looked at him, and he decided to add to his statement. Perhaps he was scared you would finally murder him. "Listen, dude, I was doing you a favour."

Something in you broke at that. You couldn't really put words to it, it was something intangible and difficult to describe, but there was definitely some deep rooted facet of your being that heard that and simply turned off. So instead of getting angrier, instead of laughing in disbelief, you tilted your head, hoping to gain a new understanding of the logic of the universe as seen by your illustrious brother. "How exactly were you doing me a favour?" You had to know. You had to know if this was just his way of bullshitting himself out of this, or if somehow, in his twisted mind, he'd actually decided he was justified here.

Button took his finger and circled the room around them. "Look at this shit, man... it's fucked up. She was obviously stringing you along!" Button put on a rather serious face. "I could see it ever since the two of you 'got together', or whatever you wanna call it. She spent your money, took your time up, and hell, if she liked you, would she have gone for me?"

"I..." there were words for what he was saying. A lot of them. Just, a lot of them weren't coming to mind. Mainly because you were trying to keep yourself from foaming or gargling. Or maybe you weren't. Maybe you were finally past even visual representations of your hate.

"She was all over me, man! Didn't give two shits about what you'd have to say about it, even when I tried to talk her down. Hell, it was even her idea to do it in your bed..." He looked at you as if you were a small child in need of some benevolent elucidation. "Isn't it obvious, bro? She was just hanging with you as a way to get to me. Probably saw how high profile I was and realised she needed an in. No wonder she got me so drunk last night..." He patted the bed, the seat next to him, and you sat down. Not due to any desire to be within a mile of him, simply the fact you didn't think you could stay standing much longer. "Yeah, maybe I partially gave in to prove a point, but it was all her, man, I promise. You needed to see that you could do better than her, and if it meant doing this to show you?"

You tried to parse the words coming out of his mouth in real time and failed. It took you a full twenty seconds to come up with a response. "If it meant doing this to show me, it was okay? You're a nice guy 'cause you fucked my girlfriend instead of simply saying to me, 'yo, dude, she made a pass at me'?"

"You needed waking up! You never would've listened, man. Probably would've thought I was bullshitting or something. Listen, dude. She just turned up here completely unannounced with a bunch of booze, and I was already drunk. It was super late already, and... maybe I could've handled all of this better, I'll admit it."

"Wow, that's big of you."

Button smiled and nodded, patting you on the back. "I know. Takes a real man to admit his mistakes, after all. And I hope you'll take from this that you can't just let peeps walk all over you! You're better than that, you're my brother."

He was such a fucking snake that it was near impossible to tell if he meant even a word of this. Well, it would be if you hadn't lived with him for the last eight years, but even so, he could be pretty damn convincing. Convenient to have a heart of gold whenever you felt like. You wondered if he believed a word of his own bullshit.

And then any vestige of hope that you could cope with this was dashed completely by a few more words.

"Okay, you're not really my brother, of course, but if you keep acting like a pushover, that looks bad on me. She's just a stupid little slut, dude. Got what she really wanted and then left. Don't beat yourself up over it. It wasn't all your fault."

It takes about 1400 pounds of torque to break a pony's neck. How much to snap his entire body? You smiled, smiled and nodded. For better or worse, plan was back in motion. "You know what, dude, you're right."

"Listen to me dude, you—really?"

He hadn't been expecting that. Of course he hadn't. He knew he was full of it. "I should've watched out more, stopped being so jealous of you and accepted that you know best for me. I'm honestly grateful you got rid of the skank, now that you've said all of that." You took your anger and channelled it into something else, used it to serve the act. "You know I saw her leaving? She was coming out of here all shame-faced, and she didn't have the guts to say a word to me? What does that tell you?"

The moment you said this, you noticed Button flinch. "You're not planning to talk to her, are you?"

That was interesting, but you couldn't bring it up, not now. "You kidding? I'm done with that bitch. No way I'm even going near her again, not after this. Can't believe she'd try and drive a wedge between us like this." Cause we were best buddies now, of course. Button Mash, the hero, had finally solidified our relationship by driving away the evil harlot Sweetie Belle. He was so fucking narcissistic that he'd likely believe I thought that. Just made this easier.

Of course, he nodded heavily, giving my shoulders a light rub. "I wouldn't bother talking to her dude, yeah. I wouldn't listen to her if she tries to come to you, either. She's clearly a liar as well as a cheat. Just steer well clear, yeah?"

"Of course, dude." You returned the semi-hug, doing your absolute best not to squeeze too hard. "I know we've had our differences in the past, but..." you weathered a sigh. A very fake sigh. "Thanks for looking out for me. I think we can sort things out from now on if I just, y'know, start listening..." you feigned embarrassment. You were fucking devious.

"Hey man, I'm here for ya," the traitor smiled, giving you one more reassuring pat before moving to standing. He was probably wondering how the fuck he'd gotten away with this, what else he could pull now under the guise of friendship. Maybe he planned to turn you into his 'disciple' and get you to slave over him. "You look like shit, by the way. Where'd you get to last night?"

Here was your chance to break out into a smile. "Oh, y'know, a club. Met a nice mare, no big deal."

"Niceee, the rebound!" Before you knew it, Button was slapping you on the arm like some kind of jock. "You score? I mean, you didn't come home until now, so I know you scored." He gave you a smirk. "Best way to get over a mare is to get under another mare, you catch my drift? You're becoming more like me every day, bro. I'm proud."

"Thanks..." Yeah, that's it, let him take the credit. Let him think he's crafting you into a carbon copy of him. He'll love that. "It was pretty good to be able to say 'fuck you' to Sweetie by fucking someone else..." Oh, if only he knew what he had coming. "But yeah, it left me pretty beat. I'm probably just gonna play a couple of games on my crappy PC and vegetate today, know what I mean?"

Button took a look at your system and shrugged. "Oh, your computer ain't that bad, it just isn't as crisp as mine, know what I mean?" Because of course, he didn't give you shit for it at least once a week. "But I'll tell you what, seeing as we're turning over a new leaf and stuff, how about I let you use mine today? Play some games in high res! It'll be better on your hangover, trust me."

You loved that he thought that was his idea. Absolutely adored it. You gave him your best look of confusion. "But hey, man, don't you keep your door locked?"

"From now on, mi casa es su casa," Button generously offered, throwing his arms wide. "It's not like we need the locks... let's not use them anymore! I mean, knock before you come in, cause I could have anyone over..." smile, damnit, smile, "But if I'm out, my room's yours."

Convenient of him to leave the part where he'd been abusing your space for years now. Ah well. "Thanks, man. You out today, seeing as you offered? I kinda assumed so."

"Oh, yeah! I gotta go see someone about something. Nothing exciting, I promise." Sweetie, you were sure. Of course, you didn't press it. "I won't be back for a while, so feel free to chill out, have a good time!" He turned to leave, then paused. "Oh, also..." Button walked to his room and then returned, throwing Sweetie's lingerie and collar at you. "Here. Thought you might wanna burn it, or jack off into it or something. Do what you want with it, ain't my business. Anyways, see ya!"

You were about to truly snap there. Fuck off the plan, forget everything, and go completely ballistic. It was tempting. You were clenching your ass so hard in an effort to stay still that you thought you might begin to spasm. You could literally feel your anus birthing the universe. But you managed. You thanked him, he left, and you began to laugh, all for one reason:

What he'd just given you was the one piece of the puzzle you were missing, and the moment you saw it, you had an idea. You'd deal with Sweetie later, but right now, it was time to put everything regarding Button Mash into play.

You waited until he was gone, of course. No use trying to do anything while he was in the house. It didn't take long, and you spent the spare time thinking of Lyra. Would she have condoned any of this? Of course not. Did you feel bad that you were doing it anyway? You looked down at the sexy underwear your now ex had worn whilst fucking your brother.

No. No you did not.

And so once the coast was clear, you left your room and went into Button's. You hadn't seen your mom around, thank fuck. That came later, but right now you had to check a couple of things, make sure you knew exactly what you were doing.

You spent a little bit of time snooping around Button's room, seeing if you could find any extra angles to use against him, anything that might incite a change in the plan, or a way to add to it, but you came up short. There was nothing of true value there, but it was pretty damn clear that he kept everything out in the open. He had a little notebook on his desk filled with names, Sweetie's the latest entry. Next to them all were phone numbers. Sure, he could fuck with Button pretty easily using something like that, but it wouldn't have a lasting impact. He'd just go out and find more girls he didn't care about to screw with.

No, you needed to hit him where it hurt, and all you needed for that was his computer.

Button Mash had become more of a meathead in the last eight years. He'd become fit and sporty, more confident, more of a cunt... a lot of it was about outshining you, and you knew it. He loved to present himself as completely normal, the most regular stallion out there, but you knew better. Somewhere deep inside of him was still the same nerdy degenerate that had resided in him when you'd first met, and that was how you were going to hit him.

He wasn't ashamed of it, either. Kept all of his shit on full display, from the anime-style posters to the borderline porn background image when you loaded up his computer, which as it turned out, wasn't password protected.

How do you fuck with someone who absolutely loves their computers, their games? Delete them all? Install a virus on their PC and let it eat everything? Screw up their ELO on Ponywatch? You had a much better idea, something that could eclipse all of that with ease.

You did end up playing some games, and you did end up relaxing for a little while. You'd even begrudgingly admit that it was a little more enjoyable to play them on an engine as high-powered as his, and that maybe you could do with an upgrade after all, but that wasn't why you were here. You were here for his internet history, in all of its glory.

Once you'd pulled it up, you grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. No digital footprint. You began to make marks of every site he visited. He didn't go incognito, he didn't delete his history, and you weren't surprised. What were you looking for, something to report him to the authorities over? Nah. Even if it was there (which it wasn't), it would still be too simple.

You made a log of absolutely everything over the last month. It was long and painstaking, and you kept a game running in the background so the hours played would continue to go up. You found yourself laughing at some of the sites he used, reeling in unbridled cringe at others, and reluctantly finding you shared a few fetishes with your brother. All valuable information to put down. In an hour, you had a record of every site he visited, when, how often, and what his viewing habits on those sites were. As you'd hoped, they worked almost perfectly with what you had in mind.

Once you were all finished, you logged off. No need to delay any longer, not when there was work to be done. You couldn't be productive on the best days sometimes, but revenge was turning out to be a strangely potent motivator. An irresponsible part of your brain told you that you needed to get pissed off more often.

Now it was time to sort out the second part of the equation, one that had been gifted to you by the oblivious asshole himself. If only he'd known what you were going to do with it.

Something very simple and innocuous. You were just going to put it in the wash. Nothing could come of you doing that, surely?

Well, it'd be interesting to see what happened when your mother came to you with Sweetie Belle's fresh lingerie in hand an hour from now. That's the kind of thing you'd never hold out around her, or even give her a chance to come near, but considering how your last conversation had ended? You felt as if it might be an excellent catalyst to the tipping point you needed, the conversation you had to have.

After all, what better way to broach the topic of sex than thrust the lingerie of the girl you were supposedly sleeping with in your mother's face?

...you thought that sentence over and considered that therapy might be a good choice for you.

But it could wait until you were done. Only thing that mattered right now was the plan, even if it was destructive, even if it would ruin things in the process. Hard to imagine a healthy family dynamic ever existing after you tried to have sex with your foster mother, which you were now completely sure you were going to do, but eh. Normal, functioning families were overrated anyway.

And so you cat burgled your way through the house into the kitchen without being spotted. Apparently, your mom was still in her room. You took the lingerie and put it in the wash alone. Nothing else to hide it or cover it up, you wanted it out in the open. After realising the collar wasn't meant to go in the wash, you decided to leave it on the counter-top above the washing machine. Nice and conspicuous, exactly how you wanted it to be.

And once that was done? Well, Button was going to be out all day, likely still banging Sweetie. You had hours to ensure that by the time he came home, the deed was done in its entirety.

From there, it was like clockwork in your head. You acted as if everything was normal. Fixed yourself some lunch, called out into the other room to ask if your mom wanted any, but she said she wasn't hungry yet. That meant she'd be wandering into the kitchen herself soon enough. Nice and easy.

And so you took your food and headed back to your room. You realised in the midst of eating that you hadn't exactly planned for how you were going to deal with Sweetie Belle yet, but you had some semblance of an idea in the works. You needed to talk to her first, though, or at least find out her version of events somehow. While they were both clearly at blame, Button definitely didn't want you speaking to her for a reason, and you were going to find out what that was.

You didn't play any music, or watch anything, or do anything that would create noise in the otherwise empty and silent home. You wanted to hear when your mom got up, to be prepared. You read a book while you waited, but after an hour and a half had gone by, you began to grow nervous. You'd anticipated things moving along faster than this, and were wondering what was taking so long. The way you'd seen it, the moment Creamy Heart found Sweetie's lingerie in that machine, she'd march right to your room and try for an explanation.

But... no mom knocking on the door. No shout of surprise, nothing of note. You thought you'd heard her moving about a couple of times. The house had fairly thick walls, but you'd left the door open just to listen out. Even when you were sure she'd moved around the house at least twice, nothing came of it. Had she had a change of heart since yesterday? Perhaps decided not to pry? Hell, maybe she didn't even notice the machine running, despite the fact you and Button Mash basically never used it yourselves as she insisted on doing the clothes washes.

You were half-tempted to go out there and look for her. Maybe that's what she expected you to do, find her and explain this. You were beginning to grow tired of guessing at whatever reasoning behind her lack of arrival was, and eventually, lack of response drove you to go out there and look. You walked casually, of course. Didn't want to act as if anything was up.

You went into the living room first, then through there to the adjacent kitchen. No mom in sight, oddly enough. Though, once you stopped to look, you realised something that made your heart leap and your brow lift—the washing machine was completely empty. Mom had taken the contents out and done... something with them. And if she wasn't in here, wasn't in the living room? She was almost certainly in her bedroom. She hadn't gone out, after all, or you'd have heard it.

You didn't go into your mother's room, just as she didn't yours. It was an unwritten rule, one you'd broken a couple of times when you were younger, but once Button Mash caught you jerking off into a pair of her panties from the laundry hamper... well, it was times like that in which you loved the no snitching rule the two of you shared.

Yes, you'd been a pervert when you were younger. Deal with it.

You weren't sure whether you should go to her room and knock. Considering everything you were doing, trying to do, it sounded preposterous that this was the thing you felt was crossing some kind of invisible line, but you were still first and foremost a son, and a respectful one at that. When mom was in her room, she often didn't want to be disturbed, and you tried your best to respect that by giving her her privacy and alone time.

But there was a lot at stake right now. You only had a matter of hours before Button Mash would be home, and then your next opportunity to do something like this would be much smaller, explaining the lingerie that your mom had obviously moved would be harder, and the relevance of what he just did would dwindle so much that your reaction wouldn't have as much impact.

No, unless you wanted to give up on the plan altogether, it had to be now.

And this was the point of no return, you realised. You still had a chance to adhere to Lyra's words, make up some excuse for the lingerie, and forget the whole thing. Once you made the choice, one way or the other, you'd be solidifying your fate.

Would it be one filled with maternal sex and revenge or something entirely more healthy, sane, and boring?

Well, you already knew the answer to that. Some things were worth going to hell for.

And so you took the best breath of confidence that you could. You had to be tough. You couldn't falter. You had to put on your best acting skills, and you had to craft this situation perfectly to meet your endeavours. Also, after so long without a lay, you’d finally get to bust a nut, with some luck.

Felt weird walking further down the hall than usual. Past your room, to the part where the corridor began to curve, and eventually, to your mother's bedroom door. You could hear the faint sounds of movement on the other side, but couldn't pick up on anything specific. This was it. Now or never. Open that door, or forget the whole thing and deal with it like a rational pony would.

knock, knock, knock.

Author's Note

Yeah, that was a funny 'two days', I realise. Sorry about that! Things have been pretty damn difficult for me to keep on top of lately, but I'm determined to get through this story. Let me know what you think of the chapter below!