I like ya, and I want ya…
I like ya, and I want ya...
It was quite an adjustment, but after his release, Fleece Cap had become just another ordinary citizen out in Appleoosa. His past was far behind him and nopony here had any reason to turn him away; certainly not the saloons and small bars that punctuated the streets. Perhaps he could get a fresh start in one of these establishments, he thought to himself.
Five feet through the door and Fleece could tell that this was no ordinary bar. It was one of the wildest burlesque clubs in the desert, and for the Wild West, that’s saying something! However, none of the mares in the club piqued his interest. From the showgirls on the stage to the barely covered drink servers, they did nothing to stimulate his interests. He almost walked out right then and there, but something changed his mind.
Out of the corner of his eye, a beautiful sight: booty! But this was no ordinary booty. It had the most perfect curves he had ever laid eyes on. It had just the right volume to it: not too big that he couldn’t get his hooves around it, not too small that he would end up thrusting against bone. Not much muscle attached to it, so this should go the easy way. It was the finest piece he had seen in ten years and there was nothing stopping him from getting it. He started his approach behind the unsuspecting pony at the bar. His prize perched on that bar stool was so tantalizingly close.
Suddenly, the booty Fleece was fixated on whirled around and he was now face-to-face with the stallion who owned it. “Woah there, partner,” the stallion gasped in surprise, “didn’t see ya there.” He was genuinely surprised that somepony was behind him.
“Name’s Braeburn,” the stallion said warmly, “Hope yer havin’ a hootin’ time here,” he said eagerly. He was clearly enjoying himself in his buzzed state.
“I’d be hootin’ if I had me some booty,” Fleece replied, staring right at the stallion.
“I get ya,” Braeburn eagerly responded, “yer a flank kind of fella,” he said as he stood up from his stool. “I got just the mare for ya, partner. Hey, Sassy!” he called to a mare on the other end of the bar. He made a gesture to her, but Fleece wasn’t focused on that. He could not help but notice how much better the booty looked standing up. He had zoned out looking at the stallion’s flank he didn’t even notice the mare trotting up next to him.
“Hey there, sugar,” a smooth, sultry-sounding mare cooed as she rubbed her flank against Fleece’s, “Name’s Sarsaparilla Sweet. You lookin’ for a good time?” It was clear to Fleece what she was offering. This was an establishment that sold more than just alcohol, after all.
“I do like me some booty,” Fleece commented as Sassy danced around him, “but I ain’t lookin’ for no mares,” he continued as he pushed the eager dancer away, “I came lookin’ for stallion’s butt.” Both Sassy and Braeburn were taken aback by his comment. Sassy was formulating a comeback to her rejection and Braeburn was thinking of what other proclivities his new client could possibly have.
“Beg pardon?” a perplexed Braeburn asked.
“Where I’m from,” Fleece explained as he slowly advanced, “stallion booty is more important than eatin’ food. I get ‘em all the time in prison. I flattened half of ‘em in there myself.” He had more to say, but Braeburn was already uncomfortable with Fleece’s advances.
“Listen, partner,” Braeburn interrupted, pushing Fleece out of his personal space, “whatever you did back where you’re from, that ain’t how we do things out here.” He was firm with his denial.
Fleece was losing patience with his target. “OK, now let me tell you something, ‘partner’,” Fleece said, dismissively mocking the stallion’s dialect, “I like ya,” he said, leaning back into the stallion’s face, “and I want ya.” Both other ponies were visible uncomfortable with Fleece’s demeanor. “Now we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way. The choice is yours.” He gave his ultimatum so candidly, but it did not hide his malicious intent. Braeburn gave a look that was a mix of confusion, disgust, and horror at what Fleece was insinuating. He couldn’t even think of a good response to his bizarre comments.
“I think you’d better leave,” Braeburn finally said after a moment of awkward silence. He backed up to give himself more space.
“OK,” Fleece responded with a new aggressive expression, “Hard way it is.” Fleece lunged at Braeburn, missing him by inches. Sassy froze out of fear, thinking Fleece was coming after her.
“Get out of my bar!” Braeburn shouted as he retreated from his attacker.
“Not without that booty!” Fleece shouted back, his eyes now filled with animal lust. The second lunge Fleece gave trapped Braeburn under his body, restraining one of his legs.
“Get off me!” Braeburn screamed, struggling to escape.
“You can’t get rid of the Booty Warrior!”
Sassy finally snapped out of her stunned state and fished her assault whistle from her corset. She knew that the commotion would draw attention, but it would be some time before the bouncers broke up the scuffle. This emergency called for the whistle. The piercing screech of the assault whistle was distinct anywhere in Equestria. It was hard on the ears and was a well-known signal for undesirable customers in any establishment. Every pair of eyes uncrossed by drink was now on Fleece Cap sexually assaulting the owner of the bar. Confused patrons were still processing what they were seeing and every bouncer was shoving them aside to get to the source of the trouble.
Before they could make it, however, a loud scream of pain from a grown stallion drowned out the high pitch of the whistle. Precious moments would pass before the two were separated, but that was moments of agonizing violation from this repeat offender. His inevitable arrest notwithstanding, it was a good day for the Booty Warrior.
