Gallus yawned and stretched his forelegs into the air. He allowed his body to elegantly fall onto the bed. The softness of the pillow felt like a touch of grace on this day of stress. He had to actually study! He stayed up all day and most of the night. Now, just as he was about to fall asleep, he reflected on all the time and effort he put in and gave himself a pat on the back for spending those thirty minutes wisely.
The griffon reached over toward the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed and tugged at the string. The room went dark, and Gallus snuggled beneath his covers. Sleep took him away. He could feel the sheer weight of the world being lifted from his body as it slowly drifted off into unconsciousness. Then, as the metaphorical weight lifted off, so did it returned. This time with physical form!
“Hi, Gallus!”
The light clicked back on, and he met Silverstream beak-to-beak, her arm reached out toward the nightstand.
“Uh, hi Silv,” he said. “What are you doing?”
“Well,” she started, as is a customary way to start a sentence. She pressed her weight down into him and circled a finger against his chest. This evoked a warmth beneath Gallus’s abdomen. “I was starting to feel lonely. I was wondering if I could spend the night with you.”
Gallus swallowed down a pit of saliva and cleared his throat. “Sure, why not. I don’t smell.”
The hippogriff snickered, and the griffon thought it was cute. “You’re silly,” she said.
“And you’re on top of me.”
Rather than get off, Silverstream wiggled over him, and he could now feel her rear-end brushing up against a certain knob below his stomach. And it wasn’t a doorknob. However, it was something else she could just as easily grasp, and a lock with a key would be an option if he was into that sort of thing.
But Gallus didn’t own any chastity belts, nor would he have time to invest in such things. He was a young griffon pumped full of hormones and ready to explode inside a female the moment he got his chance. Could this be it? This moment as a really cute girl laid on top of him. Yes, he thought. Yes, it is.
He didn’t want to dive right in. No, he was smarter than that. These situations had to be treated delicately. The griffon opened his beak, about to make a suggestion, when she laid a finger over his mouth.
“Shh, my parents are downstairs,” she whispered.
The griffon stared up at her, and despite his horniness, his mind still found footing onto some plain of logic. “We’re at ground level.”
“I know, but just pretend for me,” she said and proceeded to twirl around a feather on his chest. “Besides, we wouldn’t want my daddy to hear.”
“Why do you call him daddy?” Gallus said. “Just call him —”
She placed her finger back over his beak. “Shh. I’m violating my probation by coming here.”
“Silv, you’re not on prob—”
“If my daddy finds out he’ll tell my probation officer and it’ll break my mom’s heart.”
“Okay, I see what you’re doing here, and frankly, I can tell you’re into some freaky things.” He grew quiet for a moment. Then, he raised his forelegs toward her flank and brushed his hands through her feathers. “So am I.” he added cheekily.
Silverstream leaned in next to his ear. “Let’s do it in the dark so Celestia doesn’t see the abomination of baby-making we’re about to carry out.”
She reached over toward the lamp and tugged on the string, the room going dark again. The two pressed their beaks together, both of their tongues rolling over the other’s. Silverstream adjusted her body so that her flower brushed against Gallus’s groin.
His face already red with pleasure, his penis twitching with the severe urge to scratch the hippogriff’s itch. He was ready to dive in. He had to take charge.
Placing a talon onto her side, he rolled her onto the bed and got on top of her, rear-end in the air. They locked beaks again, and he was ready. They were both ready. They were both about to lose their virginity.
The door to the room slammed open.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY DAUGHTER!?”
The two broke way, Gallus rolling off the bed and hitting the back of his head against the nightstand. Silverstream jolted upward and pulled the sheets over her body. “Daddy, please don’t tell my probation officer! ”
Gallus sat up, rubbing the spot on the back of his head that really hurt, and stared at a hippogriff that only looked slightly older than Silverstream, who had a mustache crudely taped to his face.
“What’s he doing here?” the griffon said angrily.
“I told you my daddy was downstairs!”
“We don’t have a downstairs! We don’t even have a basement.”
Silverstream leaned in toward him and whispered, “He’s not my real dad. I hired him to keep things interesting. Just beat him up and that will, like, really turn me on.”
Gallus raised a brow. “You mean actually beat him up?”
She shook her head. “Nah, just slap him a couple of times, tell him to run off, and call him a racial slur or something. I’ll be wet for days if you do that.”
Gallus nodded. “Right.” A determined look crossed his face, and the griffon stood up. He walked over to the hippogriff with the fake mustache and seething with rage, about to say some badass retort when he received a firm punch to the face.
Gallus fell to the floor, cradling his now sore cheek. The hippogriff then proceeded to punch him some more, and all Gallus could do to protect himself from the beating was curl up into a little ball and cry.
“His punches actually hurt!” he called.
Silverstream slapped a hand to her head. “Oh, I forgot. He’s a method actor!”
Gallus screamed. “His inflated ego hurts more than his actual punches!”
“I’ll deal with you after I deal with him!” The hippogriff shouted at Silverstream.
“Please daddy, stop! He’s an orphan.”
Gallus rolled away from the punches and sprinted toward the window next to the nightstand. Stray shards of glass flew into the air as he landed in the grass outside.
Then the hippogriff threw the nightstand out the window.
“I never want to see you near my daughter ever again!” he called, waving a fist in the griffon’s direction.
Gallus rented a hotel room and cried himself to sleep that night.
Masturbation is the leading cause of glockoma
Author's Note
I wrote this over a period of one month and couldn't get anyone to look at the chapter before I caved in and decided to publish something. If it's a little weird, don't be shocked. I winged most of it. (heh)
Masturbation is the leading cause of glockoma
Gallus sat up in bed, the feathers on his neck standing straight out. There was a noise outside. He was sure it was there. The griffon glanced over toward the window and it was there that he saw it. Two eyes, wide and glowing brightly, stared back at him. Panic rising in his chest, he reached over toward the nightstand and tugged the lamp's string.
A portion of the room was filled with light. Gallus looked back at the window and the eyes were gone. He breathed a sigh of relief. After the horny aftermath that ensued back in his dorm room, his whole state of mental awareness had been on the fritz. Every little creak, down to the yearning of the wind, caused him to jolt in terror and search his surroundings immediately.
Gallus brought a talon up to his face and felt his right cheek. Swollen. His entire body was sore all over, and there were even a few scratches on his stomach where some glass nicked him after jumping out the window. The pain in his cheek was undoubtedly the worst, but it was all bearable, to say the least. What wasn't bearable was being forced out of his room without even getting laid.
He was still horny.
The griffon sighed. Reaching back toward the nightstand, he slid its drawer open and pulled out a remote. Turning on the TV, he began flicking through channels in search of something even vaguely sexual that he could relieve himself to. Most of the channels, however, primarily consisted of ponies as the main cast. After tonight's events, ponies were the last on his list of sexual desires. He wanted a bird. Particularly, a sentient one. Not... you know... okay, but to be fair he's also a bird and it was only one time during that nature documentary...
Twice during the nature documentary. And he cried a little. A lot. He cried a lot.
Gallus couldn't find any nature documentaries, but after surfing through channels for an agonizing three minutes, he turned to the TV guide and started to scroll past various titles. He continued to scroll until he found a title that startled his penis into a sudden solute: CHIXXX.
Euphoria. He hit the select button, the scene of a pegasus with a broken wing dangling on the side of a skyscraper shifting into a block of text. At the top of the screen in capital letters, big and bold were ACCESS RESTRICTED. Gallus groaned loudly, slapping the remote to his side. He wasn't ready to pay another masturbation bill.
You must be 18 years of age or older to view this channel. For help please call the service desk.
Gallus thought about it, and when he really got down to it, that inevitable brief bliss of euphoria triumphed over all thoughts. He would pay the masturbation fee, and he would make the most of it.
"Hello?" The mare on the other end of the line said. Her voice sounded like it would belong to someone who owned an EVERY MONDAY SHOULD BE A DOOMSDAY GIVEAWAY mug.
"Yeah, uh, I'd like to unlock channel seventy-four." The phone was already becoming sticky with his sweat as he cradled it up to his ear.
"M'kay, and we gettin’ frisky tonight or are we feelin’ a lil bit lonely?" She made a smacking sound that could easily be attributed to the chewing of gum while being an absolute bitch.
"That's personal info, you know."
"I have to know in case there's a second creature in there with ya, otherwise you'll be charged extra."
Gallus began to inattentively twine and untwine the phone's spiral cord around his claws. He shook his head at nothing in particular. "Just me."
"Ah, lookin’ at the TV guide right naw. That's a good one. Won't spoil the endin’ for ya."
"Thanks, I guess?"
"M’kay, channel should be comin’ on for ya any moment. Anythang else?"
"Nope. All good."
"Kay kay, I'll be here if ya need me." Silence on the other end of the line for a moment. “Not like that.”
Gallus hung up the phone, the channel turning on just as he did. In the center of the screen was a bright yellow griffon, drenched in a thick white fluid which he could already guess at what it was.
"Drats, you spilled your milk all over my body."
Okay, so maybe not the thick white fluid he was thinking of, but it was still enough to make him whip out his dick.
The male griffon cupped his talon beneath the female griffon's beak and looked into her eyes. "Dayum girl, I bet yo mama raised you pure."
"The only thing purer than me is my virginity."
"I'm boutta turn yo virginity into dystopian literature."
The movie itself was intriguing. After the mention of dystopian literature, the female griffon proceeded into a tangent about the contemporary writing of Griffonstone. Meanwhile, the male stood there staring for an uncomfortable amount of time before finally saying, “I agree.”
Cut to the next scene, and they are in a book club. Gallus remained invested in the plot, dick in hand, waiting for one promiscuous moment. Finally, the two birds snuck away into the restrooms, and the female griff got ready to jerk the male griff off. Gallus got his own cock ready, waiting to follow the motion of her delicate talons…
“Hi there!”
“Ahhh!” Gallus screamed. He rolled off the side of the bed and banged the back of his head against the nightstand, dragging the bedsheets down with him.
The voice. It sounded familiar. Was she really here? Groaning, he sat up while rubbing his head, and opened his eyes toward Silverstream, who was hovering in front of the TV. Only… it wasn’t Silverstream. Well, it was her, but her feathers had far more glitter than usual. Also, she had butterfly wings instead of bird wings. In her right foretalon she held a stick with a star at its tip.
“Silv, what are you —”
“Greetings Gallus,” she cut him off. “Don’t be frightened. I’m your —” she waved both foretalons above her head, sparkles falling from midair “ — Chastity Fairy!”
Gallus looked at the Chastity Fairy for a long moment, scratching his head. “Okay… what’s that.”
The Chastity Fairy bonked him on his head with her magic stick. He could hear loud moans coming from the TV behind her, but she ignored it. “Silly, I’m here to make sure you stay pure until you do it with the one you love!”
“You mean Silverstream, right? Is that why you look like her?”
“Yep!”
“Right,” Gallus said. He pointed at her. “So do we…”
“I’m married.”
“Ah.”
Gallus climbed back onto the bed, pulling the bed sheets over him. Mostly to cover up his exposed donger.
The Chastity Fairy crossed her arms and gave him a tsk, tsk look. “I don’t know why you bother to cover up. I’ve seen you jerk off so many times that I can’t really say I care if you have your cock out.”
Gallus’s face grew redder than his promptly abused cock. “So you’ve seen…”
“Yeah, you should probably see someone about that nature documentary fetish. But I won’t judge. It’s all part of my job.”
“Right,” Gallus replied. “So, uh, why are you here?”
The Chastity Fairy zoomed in toward him, her face barely inches from his. “I’m so glad you asked! You see, every young creature — such as yourself — gets assigned a Chastity Fairy once they hit puberty. Our job is to help guide you through life as you slowly peak into sexual maturity. If we do a good job, then you don’t even see us! Except for now, of course.” The Chastity Fairy’s head fell back. The excited smile on her face grew stiff and gradually edged into nervousness. “Now it's a little different.”
Gallus raised a brow and tried to ignore the loud smacking sounds coming from the television. “What do you mean?”
“Uh, w-well you see… there’s been a disruption. Umm… did your parents ever have ‘The Talk’ with you?”
Gallus shook his head. “No. I never knew my parents.”
The Chastity Fairy slapped a hand to the side of her head. “That’s right,” she whispered to herself. “Callus was the one with parents. I knew I’d get the two mixed, dammit. I should have filed Gallus under O for or—”
“I’m right here!”
“Yes, yes—” the Chastity Fairy waved him off with both foretalons. “The Talk. Let’s get started.”
The Chastity Fairy’s wings stopped flapping and she gracefully fell from the air, onto the bed. She laid down on her stomach beside Gallus and began. “When two creatures fall in love with each other, they kiss. If the two share a passionate kiss that’s really long and intimate and full of saliva, they get a little frisky. Nine months after they do the shimmy-shank, a baby is born.”
Gallus nodded. “Yeah, I know this.”
“Ah, so you won’t need me to explain the rest then.”
Gallus tilted his head at her. “The rest?”
“You already understand the process of procreation. There’s no need to explain the part about how the friction generated during penetration is powerful enough to turn the whole planet into a cosmic battery of sorts that keeps the entire universe running whole. You know, just the little things. The power of horny is indescribable.” She tapped her beak for a moment in thought. “Well, I guess indescribable describes it.”
Gallus’s face grew flatter than the Earth. He sat there for a long moment, taking in her words. “So, why are you telling me this now?” He finally said.
“Because your first attempt at getting laid was a failure. You see, when two who share a single heart begin the process of hankey-spankey the atmosphere around them electrifies and transfers into space. The power of horny is so powerful, that if it is not contained soon enough, it could open a blackhole and suck the whole Earth inside it!”
Gallus gulped. “Wow, that’s…”
The Chastity Fairy waved him off. “Relax, there’s only a 0.000001% chance of that happening since everyone else in the world can just fornicate.”
Gallus breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s good. But, uhh, that doesn’t really explain why you’re here.”
“To set the universe right!” The Chastity Fairy blurted. “You missed the opportunity to have passionate, hot, steamy sex and that has to be fixed! Losing your virginity is a very important part of sexual maturity, and it’s only customary that you abstain from all other sexual acts until you do the deed your mother frowns upon.”
Gallus frowned at her. “So, I’m not allowed to… touch myself… until I lose my virginity because I already started to get laid but didn’t finish?”
“Sort of. It’s more like it has to be with the one you love and no other girl, otherwise I’ll be forced to glock ya. It’s a religious thing. I wouldn’t want to bother you with the logistics of it.”
“So, what I’m taking from this: I can’t do anything sexual by nature until I lose my virginity to Silverstream and specifically Silverstream?”
The Chastity Fairy nodded. “Correct.”
Gallus looked back at the TV, then back at the Chastity Fairy, then back at the TV. Then he looked down sadly at his penis. “Can I just…”
The Chastity Fairy pulled out a gun. “What did I just fucking tell you!?”
Gallus fell out of bed again, hitting the back of his head against the nightstand. Again. He sat up, rubbing the spot that really hurt and wondering if he should see a doctor about all the head trauma he had endured tonight.
“I just wanted to —”
Taking to the air, the Chastity Fairy hovered over him, beak-to-beak, glock to cock. “Let me put this in a way you’ll understand.” Her voice went from Silverstream’s bombastic enthusiasm to a demon with throat cancer trying to force out his poorly-worded speech during a smoker's intervention. “You touch your cock, I glock it off — no matter if I’m off or on the clock. I’ll glock your cock off the clock and replace it with chalk.”
Gallus was at a loss for words. Then, as they gradually reformed into his brain, he picked them carefully. “What did that last part even mean?”
She pressed the gun further into his groin and yelled, “It means all that’s going to be left of your dick is an outline!”
“Okay, okay!” Gallus screamed. “You got me! I won’t do anything remotely sexual of any kind until me and Silverstream do it.”
The Chastity Fairy continued to hold the gun up for his private parts. Beads of sweat were forming on Gallus’s brow, the intuition that she was about to pull the trigger at the forefront of his mind. He breathed a sigh of relief when she pulled the gun away and it evaporated into a million glistening sparkles.
“You better…”she said, and she too evaporated into a million glistening sparkles.
Gallus cried himself to sleep again that night.
Stop, Drop, and Rigmarole
Author's Note
A very special thanks to semillon and NorrisThePony for looking at this chapter.
Also, my editors thought it would be funny if instead of pony names I just left it as (pony name), since that was the stand-in I used for the doc. *shrugs*
Stop, Drop, and Rigmarole
Gallus brushed the curtain aside and peered outside. A tree rustled subtly in the night breeze. The moon shone with perfect luminosity, invigorating the dark field with enough light so that he could see, for sure, nothing in particular.
Gallus breathed a sigh of relief. After the events that transpired the previous night, he had been on edge for the entire day. It would be little things, such as the simple drop of a pen, that would cause him to stiffen his posture, the feathers around his neck sticking out.
Now he was back in his dorm room, ready for bed. After checking the closet and looking under the bed for any chastity fairies, and after ensuring that there were no method actors waiting out in the hall for their queue to barge in, Gallus fell in bed with a satisfied sigh.
Finally, he could get some much-needed rest. Gallus got very little sleep the previous night, and the sleep he did get wasn’t enough to fuel him throughout the day. But now, it was the end of the day. And he could sleep for hours. All he had to do was turn off the lamp, close his eyes, then allow bliss to take him away.
Gallus reached over toward his lamp, his talon cupped in a U-shape as it grabbed for the — as it grabbed for the…
Instead of the lamp string, Gallus instead felt his talon grasp onto a fistful of feathers. Turning his head, he pulled his talon back and nearly let out a squawk when he realized who was in there with him.
“Well, if you wanted to touch my breast that bad you should have just asked!” Silverstream chirruped. With a swift jump, she elegantly turned in the air and landed on top of him. Gallus would have been impressed by the athleticism if he didn’t have his breath knocked out of him.
“Ah,” Silverstream said. “Just seeing me takes your breath away!”
“Just seeing you makes me suffocate,” Gallus replied. It was more of a hint to get off of him disguised as a quip, although from Silverstream’s perspective it sounded like a cute remark about how love is all-encompassing and that we will all eventually run out of air. Neither of those things have anything to do with each other, it’s just how Silverstream probably heard it.
“Wow, what a beautiful metaphor about how love is all-encompassing and about how we will all eventually run out of air!” See?
Gallus shifted a little beneath Silverstream so that she wasn’t cutting off any airways, but now his head was backed up against the wall at a weird angle. “Hey Silv,” he said. “What do you need?”
“What do I need? Pffft!” she pffft. “What do you think, silly?” She playfully bonked him upside the head. Gallus tried to rear his head back, afraid that Silverstream would be the chastity fairy in disguise, but the wall stopped him from doing so. He was forced to endure the gentleness of the hippogriff’s hand.
“Listen, Silv, I’m tuckered out. Why don’t we do this tomorrow?”
“What!?” Silverstream sat up and threw both talons to her face in shock. “But I’m ready now! I even brought protection.” Silverstream lifted both of her forelegs up and Gallus saw that, indeed, Silverstream was wearing knee pads.
Gallus’s face fell. “Silv, that’s not what protection means.”
A sly smirk spread across Silverstream’s face. “Oh, I know what it means. This is a different kind of protection.”
Gallus scowled. “We’re not going skateboarding after, either.”
Silverstream’s sly smirk fell away, replaced by a look of utter despair. “Oh…”
He sighed. Sitting up so that he was chest-to-chest with Silverstream, he said, “Let’s try tomorrow. How about that? I won’t be tired, and it will be a Saturday anyway. We’ll have all day to desecrate each other.”
Silverstream’s talons flailed wildly in the air — nearly smacking Gallus in the face — before landing on her head. “But we have to do it today! I already hired the strippers.”
Gallus’s eyes widened. “You hired more people to spice things up after what happened last night?”
Silverstream shrugged. “What can I say? I want to have sex, and I like company. It’s an extrovert thing.”
“So…” Gallus rubbed a talon over the back of his head. “Are the things you wanted me to do to your… ‘Dad’ an extrovert thing?”
“No,” Silverstream said and didn’t elaborate further.
“Okay… so, uh, what are you going to tell them?”
Silverstream sighed and turned her head to the door. “Okay guys, come on in!”
Nothing happened.
“Drat,” Silverstream slapped a talon to her forehead. “I have to use the keyword!”
“What’s the keyword?”
Silverstream cupped a talon over her beaked and called toward the door, “Fuck me harder than a tax evader!”
The moment Silverstream said it, the door to Gallus’s dorm room burst open — seemingly by a swift kick from a rose-colored earth pony stallion wearing a firefighter’s helmet and sporting a firefighter’s mustache.
“Is somepony burning their tax documents?” he said. His voice was the very definition of endorphins. “Sounds like you need a firefighter.”
Immediately, one after the other, strippers started to file in, all of which wore firefighter helmets and were in top shape. Except for one, who wore an eyepatch and a hat with a skull and crossbones on it. That, and he had four peglegs.
“Arg, who be committin’ fraudulent acts?” said the pirate.
Silverstream waved a talon at the pirate and proceeded to clap. “Ooo, ooo, that’s me. I’m committing fraudulent acts!”
“Arg, ye be but a girl!”
All of sudden, Silverstream became serious. “I know. But a life of crime is the only life this gal knows.”
Gallus tapped her on the shoulder. Silverstream turned to him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” he said.
“Oh!” Silverstream exclaimed, slapping a hand to head again. She turned back to the group of strippers. “Sorry guys, but you all have to go. I wish we could have had that slumber party like we planned.”
All of the strippers dropped their heads down low and sighed sadly — except for the pirate, who arged sadly.
“But Silverstream,” the first firefighter that came in spoke up. The emblem on his helmet read Chief Rosebutt. “You’ve already paid us for our time. What are we supposed to do?”
Silverstream shrugged. “I don’t know. Go strip somewhere else, I guess?”
“But is it possible to strip when there’s nowhere a stripper is needed?”
“Who the fuck cares!?”
Everyone in the room turned to a red unicorn wearing sunglasses (and a fire hat, yes, that’s important). He picked up a chair and slammed it against the ground so that it exploded into a thousand splinters.
Where did he get that chair from? Gallus thought.
“Foxtrot!” yelled Rosebutt. “Now’s not the time for this!”
Foxtrot reared his head around to face the lead. “Who cares anymore?” he spat. Even with the sunglasses on, Gallus could tell that he was on the verge of tears. “It’s like I told you, the world has no need for strippers anymore. Not while there are such things as internet porn and virtual wiafus.” he said the last part with absolute disgust.
“That’s nonsense,” Rosebutt said. “There will always be a need for strippers. So long as there’s always a teenager desperate to get laid or some psycho with a weird fetish —” Silverstream made a weird noise that only Gallus could hear. “ — there will always be a reason to fight against the fire.”
Foxtrot jabbed a hoof into the lead’s chest, tears sprawling down his cheeks. “Why should I listen to you? You’re not the chief. The chief is dead. Dead! He died in that fire, trying to save that child. He died a hero and a great leader, and now you’re in his position. Well, do you feel like a great leader? Huh?”
Slowly, Chief Rosebutt brushed Foxtrot’s hoof away from his chest and placed his own on the subordinate’s shoulder. “I think you should leave. We will talk about this tomorrow.”
Foxtrot opened his mouth, fixing to say something, but all that came out was a loud choking sound. He looked around the room — to the other strippers and to the two young birds sitting on the bed — then his gaze dropped to the floor.
“I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your manes.”
Without another word, Foxtrot quietly ran around the group of strippers and exited the room.
“Sheesh,” Silverstream said. “That was a buzzkill.” The room was quiet for a moment. “Okay, but now I’m really wet.”
Gallus was instantly concerned.
Chief Rosebutt walked up to the bed. “I apologize, Silverstream. He’s new to this. That, and… he isn’t taking the loss of the chief very well. I’m afraid we might have to cut him from the team soon.”
“Oh, psh,” Silverstream waved a talon. “It’s all good.”
“Right. Now we must leave. Let’s go, everyone.”
One after the others, the strippers started leaving, and Silverstream waved each of them goodbye.
“Bye Chief Rosebutt, bye Sweltering Heat, bye Hot stuff, bye Foamy Stream — because fire extinguishers, you sick-o — bye Flaming Lips, bye Fire Cracker, bye Golden Shower, bye Long Schlong Silver. Stop by again some time!”
🔥🔥🔥🔥
Foxtrot hung his helmet on the coat rack next to the parlor’s fireplace and sat down at the hearth. As he stared into the crackling embers of deforming firewood, a brigade of tears began to well up behind his sunglasses. He staved them off, in case his wife or children happened upon him.
No, he was not the emotional type. Emotions were for mares and people who read books as a source of entertainment. Hard books. No pun intended there. Although, even if it was intended, Foxtrot lacked the attention and depth to recognize such “clever” wordplay. He was a hardheaded stallion (both professionally and mentally); married to his wife yet devoted to his job: that was fire fighting.
But sometimes he felt like he was fighting the wrong fire. He never got to live his dream of becoming a real firefighter. He tried. Oh, did he try. It wasn’t until his first week into the academy that he learned about his lung condition that presented itself as a metaphorical blockade to the rest of his life.
Foxtrot couldn’t hold it in anymore. A thin line trailed down his cheek, drip, drip, dripping from his chin, onto the hardwood floor. He would never be a firefighter like his dad. He would never sit next to his kids on their bed, like he once did with his father, and tell them stories of breaking into buildings with an axe to save a damsel in distress. If his father could see him now, Foxtrot was sure that he would be disappointed.
“Foxtrot?”
He didn’t need to turn around to know who was speaking to him. He already knew who the voice belonged to, because no other pony had the very velvety smooth falsetto that his wife carried
“Y-yes, honey?” he managed to choke out.
“Is everything alright?”
“Everything is peachy.” Drat. That was a poor choice of words. Velvet Falsetto — yes, that’s her name — knew how much he hated peaches, and she knew how much he hated it even more when it was used as a form of expression.
Foxtrot heard her approaching him from behind, but he remained fixated on the churning embers. Oh, how he wished they were a house… so he could put them out, of course.
He felt something warm brush up beside him as Velvet Falsetto sat down at his side. Foxtrot brought a hoof to his face and wiped the tears away quickly, pushing his sunglasses up further at the bridge of his nose out of fear that they would slip off and expose the reddening of his eyes.
Foxtrot felt Velvet nuzzle her head against his neck, which brought so much warmth. Not warm like how a fire is warm — which he much preferred — but warm how an electric blanket that’s set to its highest setting and could cause a sudden electrical fire if left on for too long is warm. So, pretty comforting, he gandered.
“Leftovers are in the oven,” she said.
“That’s fine. I’m not hungry.” Why would he be? How could there be time to eat when there were so many fires to put out.
Still nuzzled into his neck, Velvet brought a hoof up and brushed it against his cheek. “I know you want to be a firefighter, but you have to let it go. What are you going to tell your children?”
“How could I tell them anything?” Foxtrot’s voice cracked as tears once again began to well up behind his glasses. “How could I tell them that their father isn’t a real firefighter? How could I tell them that the only fires I put out are the candles at the birthday party of a mare who just turned twenty-one? How do I tell them that the real fire in life is a sense of purpose that will forever grow and enrapture the plain of their existence until there’s nothing left but a barren husk?”
The dam broke. Tears fell down his cheeks. He brought his hoof up and wrapped it around Velvet’s. The two sat together, entwined and staring down at the crackling embers. “How do I explain to them that I am the fire?”
Velvet sniffed. “That was very poetic, dear. How much of it did you understand?”
Foxtrot’s gaze fell to the floor in defeat. “None of it.”
“It matters.” Velvet moved away from him. A hoof brushed across Foxtrot’s face, forcing him to turn his head. His wife’s eyes glistened beyond the dying embers of the fireplace. “It matters that you find those words meaningful. You might not be a firefighter, but you’re still successful. You have a wonderful home, a lovely wife that cooks meals for when you return home, and children that want to be like you. Tell me, Foxy: would you want to let (pony name) down? How about (pony name)? (pony name) even? Not to mention (pony name), (pony name), (pony name), (pony name), (pony name), and (pony name). What about the oldest — the ones who are about to enter middle school? Would you really want to let (pony name), (pony name), or (pony name) down? They all look up to you. When they grow old, I don’t want them to remember their dad as someone who spent his entire life feeling sorry for himself. I want them to remember him for the passionate kindling that ignites his heart.”
Foxtrot wrapped his hoof around his wife’s, and for the first time ever, he was fine with someone seeing him cry. “That was a beautiful fire metaphor, honey.” He said. “And we should really stop having children.”
Velvet smiled and nodded her head slightly. “Yeah, maybe then my ovaries will return to normal shape.”
They embraced each other with a long and passionate kiss as the final embers died out.
🔥🔥🔥🔥
The next day Foxtrot sat in the locker room, getting ready for another day of stripping. He had just put on his fire-proof speedo and was now buttoning up hisfire jackett when he heard Cheif Rosebutt’s endorphin-filled voice behind him.
“Foxtrot!”
Hesitantly, Foxtrot slowly turned his head. How could he look the chief in the eyes after what he had said to him last night? He uttered a few harsh words, yes, but they were empty words nonetheless. Foxtrot had always considered Rosebutt to be a good friend. He didn’t deserve to be berated like Celestia just second-guessed him into existence. He was more than that. He was the Chief. He was a leader.
Foxtrot had expected a harsh barrage of words to reign down upon him, but when he turned to the Chief he was shocked into a dumbfounded silence. There, instead of Rosebutt, was a stallion with a short, scraggly mane of gray and a mahogany coat wrinkled with age. Chief Willoughby. The very chief that had died in that fire saving that little girl.
Foxtrot blinked, although from Willoughby’s perspective he probably looked expressionless since he still had his sunglasses on. In a rush, Foxtrot brought a hoof up to his face and swiped them off. The stylistic shadess hit the floor, one of the lenses shattering. That was okay. He could get a new pair.
“Ch-chiff Willoughby! You’re alive…”
Willoughby bobbed his tired, old head up and down. “Yes, that I am.”
“Buh-but how? I saw you run into that building. You never came out!”
“I faked my death because I thought it would be better for you.”
Foxtrot blinked, shaking his head side-to-side rapidly, thinking that Willoughby was nothing but a mirage. What did he say?
“H-how… what do you mean?”
Willoughby walked up to Foxtrot and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “I know that you’ve always wanted to be a firefighter. Oh, I know how badly you’ve yearned to be one. But, life has presented many obstacles for you to get there. And now, here you are, thinking that you’re on par with the lowest of the low, scrounging up every morsel a customer throws your way. I faked my death because I thought it would motivate you to find kindling within your heart and become the male stripper I always dreamed of you being.”
Foxtrot’s head perked up slightly. “What do you mean, ‘always dreamed of me being?’”
“I was hoping to never tell you this, Foxtrot, but now the time has come: I am your father.”
Foxtrot slapped his hoof away and stepped back. Willoughby didn’t even flinch. “That’s impossible. My father died in a pipeline explosion when I was a young colt!”
“I faked my death then, too.” He blinked slowly.
“What you’re saying is crazy…” Foxtrot said, but… he was starting to believe him. Although his dad supposedly died before he hit puberty, his father’s face was almost perfectly etched into his memory. Now, looking at the tired, old stallion in front of him, he could see it. He always saw Chief Willoughby as a father figure, and some part of him always based that off the vague familiarity that Willoughby shared with his actual father. Only... Willoughby was his actual father.
“Papa…” Foxtrot choked. His eyes welled up with tears. “But… why would you fake your death twice?”
“I do that to all my children,” Willoughby said. “To teach them the importance of living.”
“(Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), and (Pony name)?”
Willoughby nodded.
“(Pony name), (Pony name), and (Pony name)?”
Willoughby nodded again.
“Even (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), and his twin brother (Pony name)?”
Willoughby nodded for the third time. “Including (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name).”
Foxtrot smiled, tears spreading down his cheeks. He sniffed. “I only recognized three of those names.”
“Uh…” Willoughby brought a hoof up and rubbed it over the back of his head sheepishly. “You tend to have a lot of kids when you’re living the stripper life.”
“I still don’t get it,” Foxtrot said. “Why did you quit firefighting to become a stripper? Unless you…”
Foxtrot’s eyes widened as the realization kicked in. “You were never a firefighter to begin with. You lied to me because I was too young to know. You’ve always been —”
“Yes,” Willoughby interrupted. “Stripper blood runs in your family. Along with a few sexual diseases that we will get into another time. Otherwise, you were born with a long schlong for a reason.”
Foxtrot’s nostrils flared as he exhaled air. Then, he let loose. He leaned into his father’s shoulder and sobbed uncontrollably. Meanwhile, Willoughby stroked his son’s mane with all the comfort a loving father could give. They remained that way for a while until an alarm blared throughout the locker room.
Willoughby brought his son’s face up and stared into his eyes. “Enough of this sappy bullshit.” He spoke loudly so that Foxtrot could hear him over the ringing. “Emotions are for girls and people who read books for entertainment. Hard books. You have a fire that needs putting out.”
Foxtrot wiped his tears away with a hoof and gave his father a single firm nod. “I’ll make you proud, pa,” he said. “I’ll be the best damn stripper this world has ever seen.”
“Then go. Make some hoes weep with ecstasy.”
It was all the momentum he needed to spring from his spot, toward the firepole in the center of the room. His mind explored a hundred different memories at once. There he was, telling his children goodnight and wishing them a better tomorrow. There he was, cuddling with his wife by the fireplace. His mind wandered back further, and he saw himself applying for a mortgage. He saw the day he joined the academy, the day he learned of the condition that would forever impede his dream, and he saw the day that he met Velvet Falsetto.
Foxtrot had succeeded all along. Sure, it wasn’t the way he wanted to succeed, but he succeeded nonetheless. And now, he could tell his children — (Pony name), (Pony name), (Pony name)... the others — his life story, and for the first time ever, be proud that it’s his.
As he ripped off his jacket and watched it go flying in the air, and as he spun down the pole onto the stage, all he could think was about one thing…
I was the fire all along.
🔥🔥🔥🔥❤🔥🔥🔥🔥
