Diary Of An Earth Pony Stripper

THE JOB: Cage Dancer for a private rave party, located in a privately rented warehouse

THE PAY: Four-hundred and twenty bits, plus tips

THE CLIENT: Vinyl Scratch, in her DJ PON3 persona

--==[X]==--

Manehattan has two real muzzles; the one that everyone sees everyday, while they commute to work or engage in grabbing a slice of pizza, or even just loitering until the cops shoo them away. That's the one everypony knows, and it's the presentation you see in all those tourist commercials on the tube; bustling, high-energy, active, appealing in its grand glory as they usually add in a shot of something like The Statue of Friendship, Saddle Row or Rockafoaller Center.

Then, there's the other muzzle.

This is the one where all the 'misfits' manage to tumble into. It's where you can find a thousand vices, a million folks who'll sell 'em to you, and roughly ten or twenty in the whole fucking town who can be trusted with even the smallest amount of bits. It's where the avant-garde are, the hustlers, the kids who actually ARE hip and trendy - they all show up to be wowed by the underbelly of this town.

And you'd better believe that, when a rave is cooking, the freaks come oozing out of the woodwork, intent on that perennial beacon of all things wild and fun - THE PARTY. It's like they can smell that shit a whole day before it begins, and they're like piranhas when it comes to finding the next fun thing and devouring it whole, gorging themselves on a feast of debauchery and mind-and-mood-altering substances.

Damn. Sorry - poetic bullshit again. My bad.

But if there was ONE thing I knew, it was that raves usually had a lot of folks coming through who usually had bits to burn; the possibility of tip-making at a rave could be phenomenal, if done correctly. And I'd had plenty of practice at that very situation, thanks to being invited to a number of raves in my time.

Which is why, when I got a text from my DJ buddy, I got excited about it. See, I liked raves fairly enough - schmoozing, lights, fog machines, mares in barely-there wear, the whole nine yards - but I REALLY enjoyed the music. As someone who shook their groove thing (among other parts) for a living, I had a deep appreciation for the club thump and grind; it was my bread and butter, after all.

The DJ's message gave me an address, a time and an amount - we'd done this before, and had it down to a science. The time was tonight, but I was sent the text near noon; she knew my rules, and was all sorts of cooperative in letting me scope the location, a-la Rule Number Two. It was a warehouse, according to my phone's GPS - not a surprise, because I knew my friend liked to go BIG.

But the pay was right, and I was starting to feel the excitement vibrating its way up my spine at the prospect of tonight's festivities. See, there were certain times that my DJ pal used one or two dancers to spice up the party; it usually didn't require full nudity, and STILL paid well as I stood in some sort of dance cage, or on a platform or some shit like that and did my thing.

THOSE jobs were usually nothing but gravy, as the tips could potentially outweigh the pay if there were enough mares willing to plunk down their hard-earned bits to stare at my abs while they lounged in a drunken stupor or high-fived each other. If I caught the eye of multiple groups, I might be able to take the next few days completely off!

It didn't take too long to get to the warehouse district by bus, and once I'd managed to find the address myself, I made note that it was a bit removed from the street; good, because fewer neighbors to bitch at us about noise levels, but bad because it sort of left only one way in and out for folks who couldn't fly or swim, as it was on the far end of the dock. But I didn't sweat it; my friend always had a backup plan, and usually a backup plan TO the backup plan.

Smart mares are cool; smart DJ mares are figurative icebergs.

Okay, so a single 'hinky' thing in the whole deal - I wasn't about to step away because of it. I had to have her back on this, since I'd already done so plenty of times before, and I trusted her not to have booked a gig somewhere folks could get mugged. Plus, I knew how to swim; if I had to practice my pony paddle, I would.

Stop laughing. I never learned the barrelstroke, okay? Piss off.

Anyway, as the night drew closer, I went ahead and gathered the stuff I was going to wear - a neon green mesh tank top, my tiger-striped speedos and my best pair of knee-high boots; to those who actually want to TRY this profession someday, I suggest doing everything within your power to make SURE you have comfortable boots for rave dancing.

Or, if you're into masochism, pay no attention to me, here; regular shoes, sneakers, sandals, those ridiculous crocs... not a single, solitary one of 'em will spare your feet even a single moment of respite. Boots are MADE for wear and tear, and usually have a number of advantages to your feet - especially if you buy steel-toed boots; the sensation of someone walking on your toes, yet you feel nothing, is one of those feelings that number one pop songs come from.

I got to the area about an hour before the show, and sent a text to let her know I was here. My phone gave a sultry mare's giggle (my message alert sound), and the communication told me to meet at the far end of the parking lot, by the flickering streetlamp. Yeah - that was her style: flashy.

Groan all you want - I thought it was funny.

Parked beneath the spazzing lightpost was an off-white utility van, and whatever company it had started its existence at's logo was painted over with skillful graffiti of a pair of violet-lensed shades, superimposed over a turntable. I could see the blue velvet fuzz on the seats as I approached, and smiled as I heard a feminine voice humming away from the rear doors.

In the back of the van were boxes upon boxes upon boxes of vinyl records; stuff from so many various years and bands, it was impossible to pin down any one style as being more prevalent than the rest. They were packed away in multiple milk crates, all filled with records so tightly that they didn't even slide around when they were moved.

And moving them around was the mare of the hour. When I made my way around the side, I was greeted by the rather fetching sight of a shapely rump in the air as she was reaching deep into the van to grab a particularly stubborn crate of albums. Personally, she and I had been friends for so long, I mostly teased her about her looks - plus, there was the whole 'girlfriend' thing she had going on with that classy musician she dated.

She was kinda hot, but she was also like a sister to me. Not that it kept me from giving her cute ass a nice stare for a moment... but it did mean that was as far as it was gonna go. Besides, both of us were MUCH too independent to date each other - we'd have driven each other crazy in short order.

But friends? Yeah - we had that going for us, for sure.

When she finally stood up, she tossed her head back to get her funky blue bangs out of her muzzle as she set the errant crate on the ground, then turned to me and smiled. Vinyl never was much for words... but with the turntable skills she had, she didn't NEED to be. We shared a fist bump, then she motioned to a short stack of crates; looks like I was being volunteered to help carry them in.

"Gee, V," I smirked, "thanks for the extra workout. Guess you're trying to make sure I'm still in good shape for tonight, hunh?"

She gave me a playful shove, then grabbed up some of the crates - and I got hold of the rest as we began walking towards what would become ground zero for the party bomb. As she wasn't much for conversation from her end, I usually did most of the chatty stuff between us.

"So it's been, what, four months or so since the last event - I figured, after all that foam, you were drying out your equipment. But I still made a killing, so here I am again. So, I take it we'll have the same set-up as usual? Music starts, then I come in and go to 'location X', and do what I do best while YOU do what YOU do best, right?"

She looked at me earnestly and tilted her head left and right; so-so, which meant there was more to it. Chances were, she'd let me know before things got started in earnest. Meanwhile, I got a second look at the place as we made our way towards it.

Warehouse. Alley garbage. Dumpster. Windows covered in foil from the inside. Yeah... about the same as I'd seen it earlier; typical area in need of some cleaning, but not a total pigsty nor a shadowy mug-trap. Within the acceptable boundaries of my personal paranoia, so I felt that Rule Number Two was satisfied.

Reaching the rear entryway, we came to a pair of double doors that V gave three swift, light kicks as a knock. After a moment, the door gave a >ker-chunk< as it was pushed open enough for her to catch it with her hip. I led the way in, and she followed behind. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, but I didn't step far; I wasn't about to run into someone and potentially break a crateful of discs. V might disown me if I did something that stupid.

After the door closed, I saw what looked like a tall, wide blur of darkness step forward from behind it. All I could currently make out was that it was a hulk of a form that was slouching our way - obviously, our impromptu usher.

Yeah, 'impromptu'... look it up. I know big words; now you do too. You're welcome.

As my indoor-eyes focused, I found myself looking up at what had to be the BIGGEST yak I'd ever laid eyes on (and yes, I've seen yaks before). He was rippling with muscle, all covered in a big-ass coat of coal black fur that looked thick enough to make rope out of. Two horns jutted out wickedly from the sides of his skull, a single silver ring hanging from a hole drilled into the left one, and both looked excessively sharp.

The pair of baleful orange eyes that stared down at us both seemed to be looking at us through a veritable tunnel of facial fur; really, I could see the barest tip of a nose peeking out of a very dour-looking muzzle. The look in those eyes almost seemed as if he was trying to decide what part of me to start stomping first.

"Miss Vinyl," he said in a molasses-thick Hosstrian accent, "I am glad to see you haff made it to de PAH-TEE; de stage iz set up as you haff requested, and de DAHN-CAHS haff arrived. Tonight, you will BLOW de MAHNDS of youah FENS in da audienze, and Blackring shall see youah TRYUMFF!"

He then turned his gaze directly onto my own humble personage. "Iz dis youah ASSISDAHNT, Miss Vinyl?"

Wow, he was a bit, uhhh... mushmouthed, wasn't he? Yeah, they can't ALL be gems.

I lifted an eyebrow, but spoke calmly and evenly. "No sir - I'm one of the dancers for tonight. I was just helping V with her-"

He took a single step towards me... which, with his height, meant we was almost instantly face-to-face with me. "You shall address Miss Vinyl with DIGNIHTEE and RESPEKT! There will be none of all youah 'VEE' with her, little filly-colt!"

... the FUCK did he just call me?

Before I could echo my thoughts aloud, V stepped forward and shook her head vehemently at the massive tower of obviously dumb muscle. The yak looked at her, then looked over at me again and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "But de DAHN-CAHS are already here... unless he iz an addition, ya?"

Vinyl nodded, giving him a look that said she was ready to go do what she was here to do now, could he please stop blathering like a fucking idiot and let us by, fuck you very much and have an unpleasant day, you beast-bitch teat-curdle of a mule's sweaty underboob soup!

... okay, maybe that was more ME than HER, but close enough.

"Okay, den," he said in a slow drawl as he continued to eyeball me while he stepped back into place behind the door, "he shall be added to de lineup lizt! De show iz set to begin soon - NOW IZ DE TAHYME WHERE WE PREPAYAH!"

V rolled her eyes at the big bastard, but motioned with her head for me to follow her. We passed by the hulking tower of fur and muscle and headed for the stage, his beady little eyes following ME specifically, as if the numbfuck expected me to reach over and slap my good friend at any moment.

FUCK that asshat - but as long as I didn't have to deal with him any further than I already had, I'd simply chalk it up to him being a living bag of dicks and move on. I had a rave to enjoy tonight; I didn't exactly have time to grumble and complain about some fat-assed fuzzy fuc-boi who didn't seem to have even a single iota of brains in his thick fucking skull...

SORRY. Sorry. Sorry - on with the story, enough about him.

The stage setup, of course, was wicked and wild; I could see the equipment in place for a Tartarus of a show, and V looked like she was overjoyed to finally get her records to her booth. It was a particularly interesting booth, as she'd attached wheels and an engine to it, not too long ago. Two enormous speaker stacks, turntables in the center, and enough wires leading to who-knew-how-many other speakers that were probably stashed throughout the entire warehouse.

Hanging above the stage were two dance cages, with two platforms on either side. I was a bit surprised; normally, V only went for one or two of us at the same time - if everything was going to be used, then it meant I had three other dancers to meet with. Great.

Don't get me wrong, now - I could work within a group, no problem. The issue was that I had no clue if THEY could work with a group; there always seemed to be at least one moron who thinks they can do it bigger, better, stronger, faster, harder... and who, by trying to do exactly that, can end up fucking up the night for everyone else. That's why 'checking the dancers' also fit neatly under Rule Number Two's purview.

I set the crates down next to the ones V had carried in, and she gave me a thumbs up before she turned to start testing her sound stuff. But before she could get started, I made sure to get her attention. "V, you mentioned things were a bit different than usual - care to clue me in?"

She gave a somewhat absent nod, then pulled out her phone with one hand and began to type away at it, her eyes still focused on the turntable and equalizer in front of her. Within moments, my phone gave its' sexy giggle, and I pulled it from my pocket to see what she'd meant.

[Cages filled b4 show; U & kirin cages, peg & grif onstage; sorry about Blackring - dick, but short note pickup; start 9p - stop 4a]

For those who can't understand unicorn shorthand: The cages were to be filled before the show started, and she wanted myself and a kirin in them. There'd be a pegasus and a griffon who'd be onstage during the show - probably bound to be airborne, at least once or twice. And Blackring, as confirmed, was a dick - but he had apparently been available on short notice, so we'd have to suffer him, at least for tonight. Finally, the show would start around nine at night, and was planned to go until four in the morning.

Seven hours - not too bad, and within my own endurance range. Doing this kind of stuff for V at least two or three times a year helped me find my own limits when it came to performing, so I wasn't intimidated by the potentially long night ahead. I was looking forward to hearing what sort of new beats my friend had cooked up lately, and making money while listening to them from the relative safety of a cage.

Cages were safe because they tended to keep the riff-raff away from you; the pickpockets, the drunken gropers, the stumblebums or the personal space invaders couldn't get to you if you were in a cage suspended from the ceiling. Speaking of which, I made sure to get a CLOSE look at that cage now.

The bars were thick and sturdy, I counted no less than TWO safety cables and a sturdy, thick chain holding it aloft, and the entire contraption looked deftly-welded as well as painstakingly pieced together - as well it should be, due to the fact the occupant would be bobbing and bouncing around inside it all night. You don't scheme to get someone into the air, just to skimp out on keeping them there.

Well, you could, but that was cheap as shit - a Domino Fortune level move.

However, V never skimped out - she had a reputation among the Raver Elite as THE go-to gal for the best parties, and she didn't get that rep for going cheap or half-assed, either.

Records hauled in, sitch explained, so now it was onward to see who I'd be working with tonight. I knew a few different dancers, so there was a chance I'd know one or two of them; here's hoping they were pros and not dumbasses who'd fuck up the show before we could get paid properly for it.

The backstage dressing area had a radio blaring away on some sort of Talk Radio station - and the blessing of static over much of it kept whatever was being talked about from being understood by anyone nearby. Among the mirror-backed tables and half-worn stools were three other individuals, two of them chatting while the third got her makeup ready.

The pegasus and the griffon were chatting amicably about sports; seems like they were both Buckball fans, and they were discussing some sort of sports mumbo-jumbo to each other, occasionally laughing at some awful joke or other. The peg was male, slim and wiry, and had a bright green shock of mane falling over half his muzzle, while the griffon femme sported quite a lovely set of blue and white feathers that almost made her look streamlined.

Seated at one of the mirrored tables was the kirin... and Sweet Luna's Plot, she was gorgeous! Her orange coat, that fluffy red mane (with accompanying tail-tuft), the grey scales in all the most interesting places, and the strange, yet elegantly curved 'Y' of a horn that sprouted from her forehead... all quite a sight to begin with. Add to that a pair of just-barely-over-a-handful breasts, legs that seemed to be made of 'raw, undiluted sexy', and a curvy derriere` that was difficult for me to keep my eyes off of.

I didn't know any of them (praise Celestia), and the two talkers only spared me the barest of glances as I passed them by, headed towards the kirin - hey, she wasn't a client of mine, so Rule Number One didn't apply with her; if I could get BOTH a rave and a babe in the same night?

Tonight just kept getting better and better.

"Y'know," I said to the kirin as I moved up behind her, letting her get a look at me in the mirror, "what you're doing there seems kinda pointless; you're beautiful enough as it is without all that goop on your muzzle."

Doing up her yellow eyeliner, she spared me a quick glance. "Yeah - unfortunately, YOU'RE part of the entertainment like I am, so as flattering as that sounds, YOU aren't the crowd I'm catering to tonight, handsome."

She shot my compliment down, but still called me 'handsome'? Looks like we've got a feisty one here, folks...

I smirked. "Tonight, you'll be ogled by out-of-their-heads teens, strange adults with weird fetishes and the occasional senior citizen who thinks they can still hang with the younger generation - are you telling me you'd rather entertain THEM than a sweet, honest guy like myself?"

She returned the smirk, adding a wink. "Oh, I didn't say I'd RATHER entertain them... I'm just being paid to do so, at the moment." She then finished her makeup, turned to me and sauntered past as she headed for the changing area. "But that doesn't mean my dancing is ONLY for those who pay in bits..."

She ran her tail across my hip as she passed me, which - for once - I took in stride. "... sometimes, I like my pay in sweat, big colt... know what I mean?"

Oh, DID I.

As the kirin was being rather receptive, I followed along. "Hitting me with a line like that, then just walking away?"

She gave a sultry giggle that made the one on my phone sound like a hoarse duck in comparison. "What - you don't like the view?"

"A view like that should have a name, really - especially if I wanted to label it in my mind for my imagination to run wild with later." I grinned naughtily. "Unless you'd prefer to be The Nameless Mare in my head, which really doesn't do you any justice."

"Silky Scorch," she purred as we reached the dressing area. She slid into one of the changing booths, and I - being a gentlecolt - stood far enough away to keep from peeping on anything; she was hot, but that was no excuse to look at her naked bits without her say-so...

Besides, with the way this was going, I might be getting a view of those bits anyway - and DAMN, was I looking forward to it!

As she dressed, I made my attempts to be funny - mares always liked the comedians, I've noticed - as she changed clothing while she teased me back with each joke I told. Some stallions would have gotten discouraged by her responses, thinking they were being 'shot down'... but the truth of the matter was, if she was STILL chatting with me after teasing, then she wanted me to keep making her giggle - which could eventually lead to MORE than just jokes and giggles, I reckoned.

When she came out of the stall, I had to fight my instincts to gawk or wolf whistle; if she had been dynamite before, she was NUCLEAR now - a bright yellow g-string, with matching yellow go-go boots and a bikini top that was so small, it may as well have not even been there. Shit, that top was small enough to show off the sides of her dark areola, hinting at the nipple that was just barely covered by the fabric.

"You like?" she asked coquettishly, giving me a pose as she inhaled a deep breath, making her barely-restrained chest bulge and strain at the yellow fabric holding back those lovely lady lumps.

"I like," I confirmed, "and I'm sure the audience will appreciate how much of a knockout you are, too."

She strutted past me, obviously putting an extra swing in her step to entice me to follow her. And with an ass like that, I'd probably follow her right off a cliff, smiling the entire way down. I might go splat, but the last thought in my head would be that divine kirin backside swinging and swaying in front of me.

Oh please, Celestia, Luna, Cadence, Twilight... please please PUH-LEEZE let this be a sure thing for me tonight!

The two of us made our way towards the stage, but a raised hand stopped me before I could follow that beautiful flank any further. "So, you make number four, hunh?" said the pegasus dancer, done up in a tiny red tank top with a matching pair of shorts that were so tight, you could probably count the wrinkles in his ballsack.

"Yeah," I answered cautiously, "name's Monty - you two are the platform dancers tonight, right?"

He nodded while his griffon companion took a pull off her beer, grinning at me as she finished her gulp.

"That's us," she confirmed with a grin, "and we've worked together a whole BUNCHA times, so me an' him are good to go. We might flutter over to your cages from time to time; if you interact with us at all, make it sexy, you hear me?"

Again, she brought the bottle up and finished the contents, wiped her beak and walked just far enough to grab another bottle from one of the mirrored dresser countertops. She popped the top with a single claw, then tilted it back to get another swallow or five.

"Uhhhhh... is she gonna be okay for the rave?" I asked the peg, who gave a dismissive wave.

"Eh, she drinks like this all the time - I'm Buster, and she's Geneva, by the way." He shrugged. "Like she said, we've worked together enough to have our routine down pat, so don't worry about us so much. I'd be careful about Silk, though."

Oh? "Really? And exactly why is that?" I had already made some moves, but catching side-advice was always a bonus; might hold a warning or two about what might be in store for me.

Buster gave a knowing grin. "She's got a temper, dude - and she doesn't like being upstaged. You want to get into those panties, you're gonna have to let her take the spotlight; as long as she thinks she's better than you, she's sweet as sugar... but the moment you prove to be an equal - or worse, better - then you're gonna have yourself a buncha trouble."

Yeah, mares were always trouble - what else was new?

"I think I'm enough of a grown colt to handle a little jealousy, but thanks for the heads-up," I offered, "besides, I'm just a stallion with a nice package; that babe'll have the audience eating out of her hands."

"Yo, hey," Geneva leaned in against Buster, going eye to eye with me, "I swing by your cage, feel free to put your hands on me - the crowd LOVES it when the dancers get a lil' frrrrrrrisky, y'know?" With an amused snort, she turned up the beer again, her throat working overtime to take in the alcohol she was pouring into it.

Goofy Juice always tended to make a lot more problems than it solved - I wasn't wanting to see this griffon girl wobbling and weaving through the air... or worse, crashing into someone. Like V. Or ME. I didn't like what I was seeing, but as I'd be inside a cage, I figured it would be their problem, not mine if she brained herself on the floor or some shit like that. Not that I'd want to see it happen.

The two of them then turned and made their way out to the stage, Geneva taking yet another guzzle as they made their way towards the platforms. I gave a bit of a stretch to get the blood flowing again, and would have also gone towards the stage, had I not heard a voice from behind me speak low and menacingly to my back.

"You ahr an unknown FAKTAH in tonight's proceedings," Blackring growled, "and do not think dat youah INSULT to Miss Vinyl haff been forgotten, little filly-colt. You ahr DAHN-ZING on glass, already... and it iz CRACKINGH! Be assyoored det Blackring iz watching you, and det you haff nowhere for to hide fhram his MIGHTY MAHSSLES!"

I gave the fuckwit a sardonic look; I doubted he'd even know what 'sardonic' meant, much less how to spell it.

"Look, all I came here to do was dance, okay?" I said as I locked eyes with the yak, "And as far as I've been here, I haven't done anything worth all your stress and focus; I've known V a LONG time, and she knows ME, so I'd thank you to just do your job and leave me the Tartarus alone, okay?"

The burly buttfucker narrowed his eyes. "I will do dat... unteel you FAHCK AHP, dat iz - after dat, youah AZZ belongs to BLACKRING."

He fixed me with a full-on death glare before turning on a heel and stomping from backstage, headed for wherever it is that ass-sweat-basted dingleberries like HIM hang out. WHAT THE FUCK WAS HIS FUCKING PROBLEM!? The walking pile of shit seemed only to want to push my buttons, for some reason - did I happen to step on his feet? Was he jealous because he had a tiny dick? Was his ass sore from all the BULLSHIT he kept spewing out?

FUCK him - that walking cuntrag can go fuck his mother until he knocks her up with his incest-ridden foal that'll have six eyes and no legs for all I fucking care; I wasn't about to rise to his taunts, but I was fuming inside over the very fucking NERVE of this deflated spunkbubble's diseased and pitiful fucking ego.

Best part of Blackring ended up as a stain on his momma's mattress while she had a train run on her like she was Grand Fucking Central Station.

DAMNDAMNdamndamn damn damn... *sigh* shit.

Look, all I had to do was get through the night here, collect my pay in the morning and go the fuck home; I didn't have to interact with that limpdicked, tampon-crust-licking cocksneeze much, and NEVER AGAIN, after tonight - I hoped.

So, with tonight already having been both hopeful and hate-able, I decided that it would be about the right time to take to the stage, get in the cage and become all the rage - tonight had the potential to be one Tartarus of a money-maker, as long as everything went off well enough.

Right - like THAT ever happens.

Anyway, it didn't take much to lower the cage and climb inside it, and Buster helped pull the chain to get it back into the air after I situated myself inside. Cage dancing was fun, if you could stand being off the ground - the drunken heathen masses couldn't touch you, and you were far enough above the action to be safe but still quite visible... at least, it was from where I was at.

I was on the left-hand side of the stage; Silky would be in the cage on the right. And from my viewpoint, I was going to have a first-class front row seat to the kirin's sexy shimmy all night long. Which I fully planned to take complete and total advantage of as we worked. I'm pretty sure she was thinking the same thing, because as her cage was pulled back into place across from my own, she smiled at me and gave me a sultry lick of her lips while her eyes travelled the length of my body.

It wasn't often that I found myself in the grip of a 'sure thing', but if Silky's interest was completely genuine, then it was pretty much inevitable that I was going to be enjoying that luscious form very, very soon. I wonder if she liked pancakes or waffles for breakfast? Guess I'd be finding out, soon enough!

Once we were in the air and secured, V started her sound checks. I gotta say it - I was always in awe of how she got her music equipment so powerful and precise. She gave a few tests bursts of techno-funk through her speakers, her almost-always present headphones now pulled to the side to allow for better listening. Then, more bursts, but through auxiliary wires leading to other speakers.

The mare had the entire place wired for sound and lights... and when the time was right, she'd likely unleash that particular detail as soon as she had a chance. Tests snippets of music thumped out erratically, allowing her to test for stuff like how far they projected, how much echo they produced and so on as she sequenced them with the lights around the stage.

Frankly, she could've been testing the sound with a tuba filled with puppies - right now, my eyes (and attention) stayed glued to the shapely figure of my kirin dancing partner as she stretched and warmed up... something I am 100% certain she was purposely doing while twisting herself into the BEST angles for me to see her from.

A loud whistle from below got all of our attentions as Vinyl stuck a finger in the air and made a circular motion - her way to let us know that things were about to get rolling. I gave one last stretch and grinned as I adjusted my mesh top; the time had come.

Rule Number Four, baby.

At raves with my buddy V, I tended to follow her musical lead; starting out with a good, long buildup to a decent starting point. As the music began to thump, I added a bit of a bounce to my movements, keeping time with the downbeat until I could hear the buildup beginning. Once that started, I started putting that extra bit of swing into my sway, letting my loins speak volumes louder than the music currently was; silly as it might sound, making my bulging package bob and weave to the music was entertaining, and it was more of a challenge than you'd think to keep time precisely with a hammocked dong for a metronome needle.

It didn't take long at all for the place to fill up - DJ PON3 was one of the most popular musicians in Equestria, and word of her spectacular raves spread quicker than Cutie Pox in a crowded subway. The elite snobbery were all lining the tables in the back, the flashy trendsetters surrounding the bar, and the wild and wooly teenagers who stormed the dance floor were moving and grooving like there would never be a morning to wake up to.

Of course, they always acted like that; the muzzles were different, but the party was still about the same as it ever was.

Below me, Buster and Geneva had kept to the ground so far. The two of them were actually dynamite together; it was almost as if they were already a couple of lovers, the way they caressed and slid around each other as if they were restraining themselves from banging onstage only by the barest margin of 'decency'. They were good, of that I had no doubt.

But if they were good, Silky Scorch was FLAWLESS.

Her movements were all deliberate and pre-planned, and were made to achieve maximum sexiness with each and every twitch of a shapely muscle, every wink of a roguish eye, and every bounce of her incredible bust. She seemed to legitimately be working hard enough to put everyone else to shame - even V wasn't working as hard as the kirin was, and the unicorn was a workaholic when it came to her shows.

To say the effect of Silky's hard work was not lost on me was putting it mildly; I was convinced by this point that she was teasing me on purpose - which likely meant she'd already decided she was going home with me in the morning, and she was doing her best to get me all worked up for the inevitable release that was cumming soon enough.

Heh... yeah, that was no typo.

By the time the second hour was rolling in, I had gotten into my own personal zone, and was following Rule Number Four to a T; there were a number of mares and barely-legal fillies that had been massing around my end of the stage, and I was giving them a good enough show to keep them where they were. Buster occasionally gave me an approving look, and even Geneva flashed a wink of two in my direction as my professional nature began to tempt the crowds beneath my feet.

Silky, I noted, had gathered herself a nice little crowd of horny teenaged stallions, all of which were surely having immoral fantasies about the smoking hot dancer in the cage as she did her utmost best to keep their eyes riveted to her immensely delicious figure - her perfect flanks, in particular.

Flanks that she'd been swinging while staring at me, a smoldering look on her face to go with the sinful movements she was making with her hips and tits, the flirtatious smile there promising SO much more, in due time. A few times, one of her large breasts would joggle loose from her tiny top; she always seemed to make certain that I got a peek before she put it away behind the straining fabric, waiting for them to pop free once again.

I was having a grand time. Between watching the two dancers onstage having fun with each other, to watching the kirin having fun with ME, to the fact I couldn't see that walking shitstain of a yak anywhere around... it felt like it was an absolutely perfect moment in time for me. Something I'd recall on my deathbed with a fond smile, leaving whomever was there with me wondering why I'd died with such a grandiose grin on my muzz.

*sigh* Yeah, yeah - you know it'd never go like that for little ol' me.

It started when one of the patrons below us raised a fist into the air and began to pump her fist in time to my hip-swinging motions. That set off another mare, who then seemed to get a few others to join in the act, and before I knew it, almost the entire group who'd been watching us were now all intent on giving me their full, undivided attention.

I saw my tip bucket at the stage filling up - it was set up to keep anyone from 'reneging their donation', but could still be seen into - and from the looks of it, I was doing well enough to fill that bucket rather quickly. I'd now gathered a small crowd beneath me, and I was feeling the energy from them starting to get into me.

I looked over at the kirin with a smile, but she was eyeing the crowd underneath me with a bit of suspicion; it seemed as though she wasn't much for the idea that I was garnering more attention than she was, apparently. So, she started putting more effort into her sway and bounce... which most certainly DID attract more attention to her, and the crowd under my feet began to gyrate towards her side of the stage.

Oh, so now it was a competition, eh? I was down with that, sure.

I started to double-down on my own hip-swinging, and even put a leg up on the bars themselves to grind my bulge between them, making my shaft stretch those tiger stripes on my shorts to their capacity as I gifted the group below with a tease of my own, showing that I had the girth to spare, yet I was still barely restrained by the fabric on my lower torso.

THAT got their attention back on me quickly, and the crowd was soon whooping and hollering up underneath my cage again. I was sure this little competition was going to be a fun distraction for a while, so I looked over to Silky and raised my eyebrows, as if in an unspoken challenge.

The look in her eyes didn't match mine. In fact, she looked a bit irked that I'd swung the crowd back over to myself, and I got the feeling that she was going to make more of a show out of this than we'd planned on. And sure enough, I was right.

Silky glared at me for a moment... then a slow smile spread across her features as she simply raised her arms and began to writhe in place sensually, making her hips do things that belonged in a bedroom as she began to spin a lazy circle in her cage. By the time she'd come completely around, one of her melons had slipped out of her top again... and she was making ZERO effort to return it to the tiny flap of yellow fabric it had freed itself from yet again.

Oh, the crowd saw THAT, for sure. It was almost a miracle, how the gathered folks beneath me suddenly vanished, only to reappear under the bouncing boob that the kirin was now proudly displaying for everyone to see. She gave me a smug smile in return, looking extremely satisfied with herself.

So look - MOST of the time, places that hired dancers for this kind of stuff usually had at least some semblance of rules in place to define what was and was not allowed onstage. If you were dancing for a show, then it was most likely against the rules to expose yourself to the audience - and could get you fined, if you didn't watch out. Making lots of cash was good, but having to pay almost all of your profit out in fines was not.

Vinyl Scratch, however, had always been one who didn't really enforce the lesser, more pedestrian rules - or, to put it bluntly, she didn't care if you wanted to run around naked with a rubber glove pulled down over your head yelling 'I'm a squid' at the top of your lungs; as long as you weren't killing the vibe, you were free to do as you pleased.

So, if the ante was being upped, I had no problem with reciprocation.

As the crowd watched Silky with hope, awe and strings of drool in evidence, I reached down and undid the zipper on my shorts; sure enough, my 'work equipment' fell out into view - and with the show the kirin had been putting on for me earlier, I was most certainly NOT playing the part of the wallflower tonight.

Pole-a-swingin', I began to heat up my moves and put more sizzle into my act, doing a number of different feats that made my bone swing free and clear, giving the crowds a taste of what I gave mares a good look at in my profession's typical work hours. And they reacted, all right.

NOW, I had what felt like half the club underneath me, mares (and a few stallions, too) below my feet, all with their eyes cast upward at the newest star of the show as I wound my hips up to show them all what a proper 'helicopter' looked like. The demonstration brought cheers from below, as well as at least three yelled-out phone numbers and one honest-to-Celestia 'WOO-HOO!' from a rambunctious drunken mare.

I was now quite satisfied that I would be taking home a butt-ton of tips tonight, and even though I'd put on the type of show that deserved it, I'd still share my tips with Silky; after all, it was just a bit of friendly competit-...

When I looked up at Silky to confirm my thoughts, I became aware that I might have done something here that was a bit more effective than I first surmised about making myself a bit of a spectacle; the kirin looked like she was staring daggers at me, and her pretty pout was both adorable and a bit scary, as she now seemed to take it as a personal insult, seemingly.

As we stared at each other, she reached up and simply yanked her top completely off, then launched into an impressive array of moves that had obviously been arranged to make a mare's jugs into lethal Weapons of Mass Distraction. They began to bounce and wobble beautifully, as the mare herself started dancing at a pace that said she was more concerned about being THE top dancer here tonight, and anyone who thought otherwise could kiss her ass.

Which, honestly, I'd have been more than happy to do - it was a superb ass, after all.

But the look in her eye told me that she was serious about showing the world that her delicious body was better than mine at attracting attention, and she was determined to prove it, one way or another. It was a spark of competition that hadn't evidenced in her at all earlier... but now, Buster's warning came back to me, and I realized that she felt I was purposely upstaging her in a bid to become top dancer.

Really, I normally never cared about shit like that; placements were for folks who needed validation for what they did - and I wasn't that kind of stallion, so I wasn't the one who felt inferior if Silky got more tips or applause than I did. But apparently, SHE had some issues to tackle, and I'd managed to stumble right into the middle of them.

So, should I back down? Quit making a spectacle of myself, and put the fleshy protrusion in front of me back into my shorts? Maybe even apologize for being the kind of stallion who attracted attention, even if they weren't trying to? Would it be worthwhile to surrender to the kirin's ego and allow her the chance to outshine me here, in front of my good friend at the DJ booth?

Fuck it - the crowds want a show? Let's give 'em one.

I reached up and gripped the rails along the ceiling of my cage and, lifting myself with my arms, I worked my feet between the bars and held them solid and still as I then allowed my torso to swing back down. Now, I started grooving and gyrating my hips from an upside-down position, which now had the crowd practically eating out of my hand.

Which was when SHE just started yanking her clothing off altogether, in a desperate bid to remain in the running with me - and OH, that body was magnificent to behold. Part of me lamented at not choosing to watch her dress earlier; the sight I was looking at now was being burned into my brain as one of the most beautiful bodies I'd ever had the good fortune to lay my eyes on.

Well, I wasn't about to be upstaged here - I'd gone this far, so why not give it the whole nine yards? I followed suit, untying and shaking off my boots as I got the rest of my clothes off and put my entire worksuit on display for the crowd to enjoy.

And they WERE - the folks beneath us were going NUTS at the sight of two well-built and talented dancers baring their bodies and putting their moves to the test. By now, the two of us weren't even watching the crowd below; my jovial expression was now directly at war with her chagrined one, and the two of us were dancing as if we were both on a world-wide camera feed, displaying our talents to the entire world.

I was having a blast... and I'd have thought she would be too. After all, both our tip buckets were overflowing now - and we were both on the same side here, right? Clearly, by us doing what we were doing, we were helping each other out and bringing our combined profits through the roof with this stunt.

But she still seemed insulted, as if I'd personally told her that she had a fat ass that needed some dieting to get back into proper shape. Fuck, from some of the mares I'd known in the past, she might have actually taken my dance performance as a direct insult to her, and was doing her damndest to show me how foolish I was to try to go against her.

By now, we'd drawn quite a crowd to the stage front, and the party was rocking as completely as it could be; V knew what she was doing with the music, and had been amping up our little 'contest' with tunes that got more and more tribal, goading both myself and the crowd to dance more intimately, more sensually. She wore a small grin as she worked, and seemed to appreciate the focus being off of herself.

Buster and Geneva were now mostly upstaged by both of us, but they weren't upset like Silky was; on the contrary, they seemed to be enjoying the feeling of competition too. So much so that they now decided it was time to take their act into the air at last. Geneva looked like she was okay, but her eyes were those of a drunken harlot looking for someone to go home with after Last Call has settled in.

Oh, please, Celestia DON'T let her crash into my cage! Into Silky's cage! Into any cage... or, well, into ANYTHING! I just hoped she'd be okay for the performance, as I was fairly sure that crashing into someone would be a bad thing - and doing this kind of stuff was somewhat iffy in the first place.

See, warehouse raves like this aren't exactly legal; more like they're parties that last until the cops show up - then they tend to become practice for a cross-country relay sprint as everyone tries to get out and away from the mess before they get arrested for anything from 'drunk and disorderly' to 'attempted sex with an empty tequila bottle in public'. All of that, simply because V didn't want anyone else's rules breathing down her neck at her shindigs.

Like I said, independent as fuck - just like me.

But there was also the ever-present threat of needing to call for an ambulance; if THAT happened, the party might be called off. So yeah, there was a LOT going on at raves, but folks generally tended to NOT be eager to fistfight or have an accident - NOBODY wanted to be the one responsible for breaking up a DJ PON3 rave; they'd be a pariah to the underground community for YEARS, and would most likely never find themselves welcome at other parties in the know.

Geneva may have been a lush, but I never wanted anyone to end up being the party pooper; that, and I wasn't the kind who liked seeing others in pain. I genuinely didn't want her to hurt herself OR anyone else... but, being stuck in a suspended cage meant I didn't exactly have much of a chance to try to fix the sitch. All I could do was pray she could hold her booze.

Buster was quite an agile peg; he did spirals and loops like nobody's business, and knew where to position his flank for the crowds to get a fair view. Granted, at the moment, the audience was riveted to the two rival dancers in competition with each other in the cages, but arial acrobatics tended to get noticed more often than not. Otherwise, the Wonderbolts would be out of a job.

But the griffon? Color me impressed.

Geneva was pirouetting and slinking through the air as if it was her own personal lover, and she had zero faults or mishaps. Each move, each flap was carefully executed to get the maximum effect on whomever was observant. She almost seemed to flow through the air like she was made of liquid, and she dazzled the crowds below her with an occasional flash of feathery breast or shapely tailfeathers. Buster was a pro, yeah - but Geneva was a master of the flying craft.

The crowds didn't know where to look - between our performance, the aero-acrobatics of our winged friends and the overall experience of a DJ PON3 party had whipped them all into a frenzy of cheering, laughing and whooping with delight as our stage show was now a fully-powered phenomenon.

I was enjoying the workout, honestly; I'd been really strutting my stuff, and had been working hard to make sure to keep the crowd hyped up - which, to me, is what they pay dancers for in the first place. Probably because I was showing such a happy-go-lucky and cavalier attitude, I now had the majority of the front of the club beneath me, all cheering as I showed off my moneymaking skills to the gathered mares under the cage.

Which was all fun and games until there was a bright flash of light from the other cage.

Standing in place of the sexy kirin was her counterpart - a jet black nirik, naked as the day she was born, whose eyes were boring a hole into my skull as she grit her teeth; she was just as hot as she had been before, but now there was ACTUAL FIRE to accentuate that vision. Then, almost as if she had been commanded to do so, she began to dance again - this time, her moves had zero hesitation or shame, and she was grinding herself on the bars hard enough to leave them slick with her juices.

Fire rolled off her mane and tail tip as she began to wind herself up into a blatantly vulgar and slut-worthy display of moves that were usually saved for porn videos, licking her lips as she humped the bars and openly fingered her beautiful (yet literally flaming) crotch, letting drops of her sizzling honey drip down to the dance floor... as well as onto the occasional partygoer, who tended to give a yelp as her juices literally scalded where they touched.

FUCK. How the Tartarus was I supposed to compete with THAT!?

Geneva was now showing off an arial prowess that, even as an Earth Pony, I was frankly a bit jealous of - but in a good way. She apparently WAS an utter professional, even when she was drunk - her moves were flashy, showy, and more than a little enticing. She even flapped her way over to my cage and rolled her feathered tits against the bars in their tiny little barely-there t-shirt, flirting with me in that way that brings all the virgins to the forefront to drop their tip money in a hurry.

Buster had tried to do the same with Silky... but the nirik was FAR too engrossed in her own nasty display that she didn't even notice him there. A little disconcerting, as one of her kicks came almost close enough to him to light him up with her flames; he tended to give her a bit more space, after that near miss.

Regardless of how it actually was, the crowd was eating it up and begging for more; by now, all four of us had pretty much the entire warehouse's eyes on us; even V herself kept looking up from her turntables to admire the sight. And believe me, getting her to look up from her music? THAT was a feat and a half.

"HYOU!" a voice like a fucking ass-blast reached my ears, "HYOU are mahking de kirin AHNGREE! Hyou must STAHP at WUNCE, little filly-colt! Blackring COMMANDS it!"

Command: (verb) - the act of giving orders to be followed, usually to a soldier or other subordinate, in a manner that leaves little room for negotiation or refusal. Usually given in a manner that is forceful and dominant, to further accentuate the necessity of the task or the urgency of the one issuing the command.

Yeah - that don't work for me; I'm no soldier, and NOBODY'S subordinate.

So, in the spirit of ensuring to communicate the exact level of care and attention I was going to pay to the yak's command, I gave him the finger and kept right on dancing. I could swear I saw steam boil out of his ears as his eyes went wide and angry - though, with his piggy-little peepers, I'd say he was finally seeing something at all for the first time in his life that wasn't half-hidden by his fucking monobrow.

"HYOU! Blackring will FOLD HYOU IN HAFF!" he bellowed, jumping up and down in an infantile display of anger at my hijinks. "HYOU will STAHP NOW! I will EJECT HYOU fram da PAH-TEE, I am in chahge heah!!! HYOU WILL LISTEN TO ME, stupid filly-colt!"

Okay, now I was beginning to wonder if someone had neglected to tell shit-for-brains that fillies weren't colts, and vice-versa; he obviously didn't understand what the fuck he was saying, and if he DID, then I'm pretty sure the sausage I was swinging around would have been proof positive that I was no sort of 'filly' at all.

I looked over at Silky, who was dealing with her rage-on as best as she could, giving me searing glares as she did wholly sexual and inappropriate things to her orifices in a bid to show me that I wasn't SHIT, compared to her. The jealousy was as obvious as the fire on her tail, which was whipping side to side as if she was fire-dancing with her butt.

Even though Blackdingus couldn't get at me right this very moment, he did manage to make his way out to my side of the stage, where he could gesture angrily at me and shake his meaty, basketball-sized fists at me. That may have been frightening for a lesser stallion, but not me.

I'd been RAISED on bullying - it was why I didn't like to be touched... and when you grow up of a steady diet of physical torture, you get numbed to the realization that it's coming. As a foal, you always fear getting hurt, and will tend to cry, cajole, wheedle or otherwise work your way out of it, if not outright hide from your fear.

As an adult who's survived countless painful situations - including fistfights - I didn't give a flying FUCK how big or mean he looked; if I had to get into it with the walking douche-nugget, then we'd BOTH be going to the medical ward afterwards. I wasn't guaranteed to beat his ass... but I wasn't going to the hospital ALONE either, that was for fucking sure.

And frankly, I'd had about enough of his bullshit - even if it kept me out of work for a while, it would be SO worth it just to rearrange his dental work for him.

For what it was worth, he was as trapped as I was; he was on the dance floor, while I was safely ensconced in my cage above the crowd. I gave the yak-stard a smug smile as I put my heart back into my dancing, swinging and swaying enough to capture the attentions (and libidos) of the gathered mares beneath me.

Which made Blackring LIVID, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

And made him turn and head for the connecting cables for the cages at the backstage... which I most certainly did NOT enjoy. It was mid-fucking-show; was he so damned angry that he was going to disconnect the cage and let it fall into the crowd itself? Just drop me right out of the air, possibly landing on some poor raver and squishing them under the cold, hard steel?

No. No, it wasn't gonna be that simple.

He got to the releases, alright. I then watched in horror as he grabbed the first safety anchor and twisted it apart, meaning he wouldn't need any keys to release the other two. Worse, nobody else was seeing this but he and I; Buster and Geneva were doing their aero-ballet, Silky was spreading her luscious black thighs and squirting her molten pleasure into the audience below, and V was lost in her music.

Blackring literally ripped the second cable out of the wall - SHIT he was strong - and then put his hands on the third one, the last chain left holding the cage aloft above the crowd, and pulled it free from its moorings - yet held on tightly. He then looked up at my expression of concern in the cage... and smiled.

Shit. NOW what?

As I watched, he slowly began to lower the cage down, bringing it eye-level with the crowd around us... and then, it became crystal clear what he was up to. The moment I was within reach, hands thrust through the cage bars at me, groping and reaching for me as if I was the bait in a zombie flick, the desire behind the party-goers eyes throttled to eleven under the haze of intoxication and the thrill of THE PARTY going on.

NO FUCKING TOUCHEE!

I scrambled back from the bars, but was rewarded for my efforts with a slap on the ass by another passionate patron. I turned to yell at them, and was instantly felt up along the inside of my right thigh. Then fingers began to work through the grating underneath me, trying to grasp my feet while inadvertently tickling the SHIT out of me.

I did my best to rein in my panic; this was BAD for anyone, but especially bad for a stallion who DID NOT like being touched. These crowds were already boiling - it wouldn't take much to get them into a sexual frenzy at all. In fact, it would only take something as easy as, oh I don't know, dunking a naked stallion into the middle of a crowd of horny rave teens, for example?

It was only for a few moments, but it felt like forever before the cage lifted again, bringing me out of reach once more. My heart was hammering, I was sweating bullets, and as far as I was concerned, I was officially DONE here...

But Blackring saw the fear on my muzzle... and the sick fuck was relishing it as he gave me a wink, then began to lower me down into the crowd AGAIN! This motherfucking scrotum-mold licker was fucking TERRORIZING ME with my own issues! He'd seen my fear, and was now intent on using that to fuck with me, helpless, as I became a new toy for the dipwad to play with.

Down the cage went into the crowd again, and now there was even more clawing and stretching towards me, mares intent on making contact with the nude stallion stripper that they never would have had a chance to touch otherwise - it was as if I was now on display for the audience, and that display was labeled 'don't touch'... but there were no security guards in sight.

Well, there was the one... but I got the feeling he wasn't gonna be much help for me, here.

I could feel the first itchings of a panic attack settling in as I began to breathe faster; even with my issues, I'd always been in situations where I had enough control to get out of them as soon as I could... and I dictated when touching would occur, not my clients. This way, I could keep my personal problems at bay while I worked.

This was almost the PERFECT setup for me to lose my shit in a big way.

My hands were shaking by the time he lifted the cage again, and the smirk he wore told me it was so very sweet for him to taste my fear like this. That sadistic fucktard would never work for V again, I'd make PERSONALLY sure of that - but until I could get out of this damned cage, I couldn't do SHIT about any of this at this very moment.

Raising the cage again, he laughed as one or two mares hung from it, begging me to let them in, they just wanted to talk, maybe hug me, perhaps a kiss, would I like a blowjob, oh please rut me like the whore I am...

Yeah, I already knew how THAT went down - and I wanted nothing to do with them.

This was fucking horrible... and if he wasn't stopped, he'd be at this for the next few hours. He looked like he had the muscles to keep it up until tomorrow evening, if he really wanted to. And his expression said he REALLY, REALLY wanted to.

It was everything I could do to keep from actually shedding tears over how pissed, afraid and unnerved I was by all of this; I tried to call out to Buster or Geneva - I even tried to call to V, once. Unfortunately, with the amassed party around us, the air-show between us and the fiery slut giving her all across from me, I didn't even get them to glance up in my direction.

I felt the cage jog under my hooves, and I was once more being lowered into the sea of estrogen; I could climb out of it and escape when I was at the ground, but the press of mares around me not only kept the cage door closed, but I wouldn't want any one of them getting inside with me - that'd be an incident that might break a LOT of my rules, all at once!

As the cage reached the dance floor for a third time, I looked up above me to try to signal to the fliers that there was an issue... but they were both now flapping in hover mode between the two massive speaker stacks, with their tongues down each others' throats. Well, if they were lovers too, it just made the show that much more realistic.

Then, with a flourish, the griffon turned and shot out from her pegasus partner and climbed straight to the ceiling, then gave a triple-flip twist before simply yanking her top off, revealing a pair of nice (if a bit feathery) boobs that jutted out proudly from her breast. The crowd underneath went wild, and she smiled at them, placed a hand in front of her midsection and made a grand, polite bow to the audience.

And she was in that position when she finally released all that booze she'd been gorging herself on from the prison of her stomach - and it was a veritable jailhouse riot; the amount of used suds that poured out of her throat didn't seem like it was matching to scale. To think that her tiny, almost dainty beak was spewing forth a column of beer that was almost as big around as my thigh was quite a sight to behold, and the fact it just didn't seem to STOP was just absolutely impressive...

But my favorite part was how she was hovering directly over Blackring when it happened.

Even over the crowd, I could hear the yak scream - and it was the scream of a filly who'd had an ice cube shoved up her snatch. It was high-pitched and squealy, the kind of scream you'd mercilessly tease any colt for making in public, and as soon as I heard it, even within the prison of hands I was trapped in, I laughed my fucking ass off.

This situation, I could get over with time, a few drinks and some therapy, I was sure of it... but the way Blackring screamed would hang around his neck like an albatross for the rest of his life - even if it was for no other reason than the 'filly-colt' getting to hear the mobile drain-clog prove the point of himself.

It was about that time that the doors at the other end were literally kicked open to reveal what looked to be no less than eight fully-uniformed police officers standing there, each one with handcuffs at the ready. The lead cop stepped forward and bellowed in a voice I'm sure she borrowed from Celestia herself:

"IN THE NAME OF THE LAW," she hollered, "YOU ARE ALL UNDER ARREST FOR THIS ILLICIT GATHERING!"

"And noise ordinance," added a stallion next to her.

"AND NOISE ORDINANCE!" she repeated, much more loudly.

Have you ever seen one of those piss-poor apartments where everything's a mess? You ever see what happens when you flick the light on, and the cockroaches go scattering in every direction? Yeah, that's what happened.

My cage, once surrounded by femmes in the closest thing to dance-induced estrus I'd ever seen, was now completely in the clear as all I could see were flanks and heels as the gathered crowd all suddenly decided they'd left their proverbial ovens on, and they had to find a way home rather quickly to deal with the sitch. On one hand, you could call them cowards... on another, you could call them smart.

I just called them various bad names as the cops started heading towards me, the lead officer with a look in her eye that said she did not exactly approve of my nudity, either. Some mares were just immune to the charms of a stallion - this one just seemed to be EXTRA intent on making sure I paid for the partygoers' mistakes.

Glancing backstage, I saw Geneva and Buster holding a freshly-doused kirin between them as they flapped off to the rear doors; great, now I was the distraction for everyone else to get away? What the living FUCK, man!? Even Blackring was nowhere to be seen... even though it wouldn't be too hard to follow the trail of pre-imbibed alcohol that graced the floor and took on the shape of yak-feet as they went behind the curtain.

"So," the policemare said as she reached my cage, "I suppose we'll have to start with YOU, won't we?"

"Well, if it's all the same, I'd rather not," I stated plainly, hoping beyond hope that I could talk my way out of this, yet dreading I wouldn't be able to. Well, shit - bail would set me back a bit, and the cops would doubtless keep an eye on me for a while after that. I'd be lucky if I could get up in the morning without having an officer greet me for breakfast; they would want to know who was responsible for this, and they'd probably hound me for weeks to try to see if I'd lead them to her.

Dammit, V! You're supposed to have BACKUP PLANS for this kind of shit! Where the fuck are you!?

"Well, I don't think you'll have much choice, sir," she said sardonically as she reached for the cage door...

Which was when the lights flared to life.

The stage setup had been going full blast for the length of the party, but had turned off when the cops showed up. Now, with each and every spotlight pointed right at the officers, they were flashblinded by the display, and all raised hands to cover their eyes.

And THAT was when I heard an engine rev, a chain clinking, and saw movement towards the floor.

The central chain that had been gripped in the yak's stupid fucking hands was now zipping along rapidly towards the backstage and out of the rear rolling doorway, meant for loading in equipment that wouldn't fit through a standard door. My eyes followed it until they reached the rapidly departing off-white van outside...

With the chain anchored to its' bumper.

"Oh, fuck me blue," I said right as the chain drew taut, and I let out a scream of my own (stallionly, VERY stallionly) as the cage suddenly jerked up off the floor, tilted crazily along the hallway while leaving a stuttering trail of dents and marks behind it, and flew outside onto the dock, following the van with a LOT of fucking bouncing and rolling!

I now had an idea of what it felt like to be loose change in a dryer.

The cage banged along the wooden planks, knocking holes in the walkway and outright smashing posts as the van shot down the pier, then turned and took off into the parking lot. Of course, as I had little choice, I went with it, sparks indicating the very moment the steel cage hit the asphalt.

The cops looked stunned, and I'd have waved to them as I vanished down the street... but holding onto the cage to keep from being blended like a fruit smoothie was all I could do. Humorous or not, I wouldn't risk it for a smug joke like that.

Well... if Blackring had been there, I might have anyway. Fuck that shitheap.

--==[X]==--

[u ok?] was the text I'd gotten from V every five minutes since we'd managed to get away from the police.

I was currently seated in the back of said van, after having driven through much of town to escape the police... and effectively showing off my birthday suit to the whole damned city before we could find a place to stop, hide and recuperate. I'd been jostled around fiercely, and I could still hear a ringing in my ears from the sounds of the cage bouncing along the street.

"Like I said a HUNDRED times already, I'm fine, V." Really, I wasn't, but I was: I'd gotten into a dance battle with a shapely kirin who'd probably never even give me the time of day now, much less a romp in the hay, I'd been tortured by a self-absorbed asshole who'd enjoyed making me suffer, and I'd been treated like a ball in a bingo-caller's bin...

BUT...

I'd also pretty much WON that dance-off (as dipping my cage into the crowd had actually paid off beautifully), had seen said ass-clown utterly humiliated, and had managed to escape the police without sacrificing my profits for bail money.

What a fucking NIGHT it had been.

[u ok?] blipped up on my phone again, and I gave a soft glare at V, who was busily breaking down the equipment she'd hastily shoved into the van to allow her time to get the chain tied on.

"V... I'm FINE, really." Well, not really... but we had that convo already. "At this point, I just need my pay and I'll head home. No big deal, right?"

She gave me that smirk that said she thought I was cool, even if she never said it. She made her way around to the front, dipped inside for a moment, then came back around and handed me an envelope; inside, doubtless, was the four-twenty she always promised, and I always got. I didn't even check it - we knew each other that well.

"Thanks," I said, then did a double take as she simply held out my tip jar to me. It was filled to the brim with bit bills, with even a few poking out from the drop slot; it had been stuffed full enough that not everything fit inside. I stared at it for a moment, then gave a laugh as I took it from her.

"Okay then, V," I said as I stood up, finally able to keep my balance for longer than a minute and a half, "I guess you'll be back for another in, oh, a couple of months?"

She nodded; knowing her like I did, she'd be damned if she would ever stop putting on these sorts of parties for the folks of Equestria. Where the Mane Six saved lives through action and rainbow lasers, Vinyl Scratch saved Equestria through the power of music and the desire for a good time. She was a bit like Pinkie Pie, only with more suave and subtlety... and considerably less pink.

"Well, you know where to find me," I chuckled as I stood up. V leaned over and gave me a sidelong hug and a matching chuckle as I promised to be there, then started to make my way towards the bus station for a hopeful ride in silence. Raves were great and all, but the aftermath could be just as important and necessary as the party itself.

As I sat there on the bus, looking down at the money-stuffed can hidden in my lap, I thought to myself, 'well, that was certainly a lot calmer than normal - I hope V isn't losing her touch.'

--==[X]==--

TOTAL PAY: 420 bits + 758 bits (Tips)

AFTERMATH: Lay low for a week, blueballs from a kirin and having to remind myself that not all yaks are asshats

WOULD REPEAT CUSTOMER?: Yes (because V's parties are always an adventure)