Red Rum Cake #10 [More Light Clop]

[Part Two of “The Date”]

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So, how’s the spaghetti for you?

>you’re still midway through your dinner, quietly savoring the noodles and the moonlight

>there’s some sort of violin music being played in the background

>it’s not a part of the restaurant; you can hear the beautiful tones serenading through the neighborhood

>you don’t know where it’s coming from or who is playing, but the melody was so allusive and sorrowful

>the tune reminded faintly of another violinist; ironically, it was one of a girl who was trained to be an assassin who learned to play the sacred instrument

>that was a former life, though, and the past is the past

>Pinkie: “It’s fine, but I feel like it’s missing something…”

>you already know what it is, too

It’s missing meatballs.

>Pinkie: “Meat~? Do humans usually eat meat with their spaghetti?”

Yes, spaghetti usually consists of noodles, marinara or tomato sauce, meatballs, and optionally parmesan cheese. This is basically a vegan’s spaghetti.

>this seems to upset Pinkie, having been screwed out of a full course meal

>you’d be annoyed yourself if you weren’t already humbled by these godly breadsticks

I may not be a huge fan of the main course, but these breadsticks are heavenly…

>Pinkie giggles distractedly as the both of you grab for one, dipping it into the marinara sauce in the spaghetti before devouring on the bready mass of carbs

Next time we have spaghetti, I’ll make sure to have meatballs in it. Meatballs are made from ground beef, I believe.

>Pinkie: “Ground beef?”

Cow, basically.

>Pinkie: “Ooo~, yummy!”

>she goes to slurp some noodles, only to have sauce go everywhere

>fucking Pinkie Pie

>the table is now devastated by spaghetti sauce, but your coat remains intact

>Pinkie’s face took the blunt of the blow as well, in which you can’t help but break out laughing

>Pinkie: “Hehe, what~?”

>you lean forward, reach across the table, and take a dab of sauce off from her lips, tasting it

>definitely marinara sauce, but… sweeter, somehow

>she gives you the first pout of the night, as if daring you to get a better taste

>you lean back in your chair and cross your arms behind your head

Maybe later, sweetheart. Wrap things up, Pinkie!

-----

>after she eventually licks her face up to a respectable condition of cleanliness, you pay for the meal and hail yet another carriage

Pinkie, I must warn you, that we have two options here on what we can do.

>Driver: “Where to, sire?”

>you toss a couple bits in his pocket

Anywhere for now is fine, my dear sir.

>he nods and trots on as you continue your conversation

Two events are going on at once; one is more appropriate for a successful romantic date, and the other is… well, more fitting for you.

>she wiggles into one of your arms, tucked into your armpit

>Pinkie: “Let’s hear em~!<3”

One is, of course, the Theatre. We’d be in each other’s arms, perhaps enjoy a few touching moments and laugh and all that jazz.

>Pinkie’s mouth makes an O shape

>Pinkie: “Ooo, and the other?”

A unicorn by the name of Vinyl Scratch is making a performance in the capital tonight, at a somewhat popular club here. So, which one would you prefer to go to?

>she sits there long and hard; you know she wants to rut the fuck out of you right now, and being in the dark watching a play could be an interesting chance to strike

>however, her natural instinct to party is causing internal conflict

>she’s giving you puppy eyes, as if you hold the key to solve her agony

>perhaps you do, in the end

I’m just messing with you, we’re going to both. Can you take us to the Theatre, please?

>the driver nods as Pinkie gasps in glee

>Pinkie: “Thank you, Anon~!”

-----

>about ten minutes later, the Pony Prefecture Theatre looms into view, extravagant lights and other showy details capture the night perfectly

>you’ll never question the level of technology Equestria has to offer as the two of you approach the blocky stone building

>stallions and mares alike are making your way into the theatre, wearing extravagant suits and dresses

>oddly enough, there are a lot of fillies with them, also dressed up

>granted, so were you and Pinkie, but that is merely to be a wolf covered in wool

>Pinkie: “Sooo… what play is it?”

No fucking idea.

>making your way in, it looks like a classical movie theatre, despite it being built for plays

>following the line and nabbing your tickets, you shuffle with the crowd to get inside the upcoming show

>it appears they’re giving the two of you a wide berth

>you love being human sometimes as you make it to your seats

>what were the chances; very back and in a corner, too

>poor spot for a play viewing, very well picked spot of sexual mishaps

>you can see the grin on Pinkie’s face as you sit down, the dim lights reflecting the glee of excitement in her eyes

>please, oh please, let the play be so epic that it captures her attention

>you look at the pamphlet to see the title

>”Trongadonga the Dragon”

>”Meant for fillies ages 6-12”

>FUCK YOUR LIFE

>you just noticed the number of young ponies that were in here

>not only is this play likely to be boring, you’re going to be listening to the laughter and crying of little colts

>and Pinkie trying to seduce you at the same time

>this will be bloody fun

>as the lights fade off, you can hear squeals of delight from both the pink mare next to you and dozens of young fillies

>you’re in a dangerous position now as a well-made costume of a large green dragon waddles onto the stage

>you don’t know what Pinkie has planned, but you need to decide what can happen, and how much

>this is for her, but if the two of you get something on in here, and get caught…

>you’d rather be caught for murder than sexual acts in public

>you turn to glance at Pinkie

>she’s actually interested in the play

>you should have realized it, but she loves this sort of stuff

>you rest an arm around her shoulder, and thank the stars

-----

>the pamphlet claims this to be an hour and a half long, with no interlude or intermission

>this is splendid, because Pinkie has been captured by the play this entire time, and it’s almost 45 minutes in

>halfway done, a smooth breeze indeed

>that’s what you thought, anyways, until you felt a hoof lie into your lap

>you grimace, check in the game of chess as you turn to face your opponent

>she has the most wicked grin, and for once you’re afraid of something besides death

>you’re not sure which one you fear more at this point, but you think you’re about to find out

>she’s running her hoof down and up your inner thigh, on a search and touch mission

>and it appears the motion has arisen an old god

>Anacondius, Destroyer of Mare Vaginas, has awoken from its eternal slumber, craving the desolation of moist walls and clitoris

>its reign will last centuries, and rule will be with an iron fist

>but for now it’s temporarily distracted by unspeakable sensations through your pants

>you glare at Pinkie in some sort of inaudible demand that she isn’t permitted to perform foul acts with fillies nearby

>you swiftly realize that she’s been working on herself already, and in the darkness, you can figure that she’s dangerously wet

>she’s been going covert!

>soon she’s revived the old god to his former glory, and is making rounds back and forth

>your god, she’s reaching for the zipper

>thank Nayru she lacks appendages

>your arm around her flinches as she successfully grasps the zipper

>fucking Pinkie Pie!

-----

>it is only a divine act of the goddesses that not a single soul sees this

>the sitting order is: wall, you, Pinkie, and a young foal

>the foal is wayyyy too distracted by a tenor-singing dragon to notice what Pinkie is trying to pull off

>Anacondius is now out of your pants, and while it’s well hidden in the dark, Pinkie’s movements are more than enough to give her away

>you’re sweating bullets, almost never taking such daring risks without good reason

>is Pinkie’s pleasure truly worth the jeopardy of committing such heinous crimes?

>you’re suddenly trying to understand the sensation she’s managed to commit; that does not feel like a hoof at all, but something more

>much more enjoyable

>that’s it, time to stop being a safety abiding coward

>you’ve dedicated yourself to far worse crimes, and you brace your overhanging arm over her mouth as you begin to whisper

Don’t make a sound, this is an order. Bite on my hand if you have to. Make a noise, and this is over.

>she gazes at you and nods, and you slide the side of your hand into her mouth to act as a wood block

>sneaking your left arm over hers, you lean in on her as you pull her closer

>the things you’d give to remove this single armrest between you, as the positioning is awkward

>you nonetheless manage to caress her below as your free hand gets a grasp on the situation, shifting the dress aside

>you take a small glance at the foal across from her

>she’s still quite dedicated to the show; the villain just appeared and is making a big fuss

>thank you for the distraction, Trongadonga

>you very, VERY slowly slip your middle and ring finger in her, placing your thumb right on top of her clit

>she comes so close to gasping the wrong way, her jaw clenching on her hand

>you wait until she loosens her teeths’ grip before you make a motion

>she’s incredibly wet; such is the nature of a mare amidst her estrus

>one slight push and she’s gnawing on your hand again

>she’s still pumping you, and despite your best interest, you feel the effects doing a number on you

>you wish you had a towel and a water bottle now, you’re sweating bullets from the silent hysteria you’re undergoing

>while your mind may be stone firm, your body is undergoing the transformation to a large chicken

>you rest your head on Pinkie’s straight mane, brushing your nose against her ear

>after a few minutes of this, you feel an edge in your mind; one you’re soon to traverse over if this keeps up

Stop.

>she freezes and lets go, looking around to make sure no one saw anything before whispering

>Pinkie: “But… I didn’t say anything!”

Not you… me.

>you’re starting to breathe heavily, and once Pinkie understands that you’re getting close, she’s tempted to jump you and finish it off

>despite her wild hallucinations, the look you give her is enough to keep her serenity

>pulling your fingers out reveals that she may just have had a mini orgasm, and you cover her mouth again just as she is about to squeak

>you cover her lips with yours, silencing her with a passionate and deep kiss

>she’s eager enough for this to slip her tongue in, brushing against yours

>you stroke her mane with your dry hand

>after about a minute of this, you separate to clean of your hand of her juices, tasting and savoring the flavor of Pinkie

Delicious.

>Pinkie: “Anon, that’s so mean…!”

>you look past her

>the foal and her mother are staring at you

>you don’t know for how long, but it’s enough to stir your jimmies just the wrong way

>you and Pinkie quietly watch Trongadonga explain his tragic story for another half hour, your head resting on her and arm rapped around her waist

-----

>after making sure the old god Anacondius was tucked away and Pinkie’s marehood was well covered by her dress, you exit the theatre after witnessing Trongadonga and his lover suffer a most fitting death in sacrifice for his kingdom

>so much for a fillies’ show, half of them are crying

>it makes you chuckle as you hog the water fountain for about two minutes, trying to hydrate yourself from all that sticky sweat

>not one fucker complained

>soon the two of you are back outside, and every single pony is hailing cabs or walking off under the brilliant bright lights

>while nightfall may have certainly fallen, the night is still young, and you will enjoy one last blast before the two of you enjoy a good night’s sleep

Come, if we walk, we can reach the club in about 10-15 minutes.

>Pinkie: “That was sooo~ much fun, Anon! Can we do that again?<3”

>it appears Pinkie has developed a slight fetish for doing things in public areas

>good for her, a nuisance for you

Maybe, but not anytime soon; there were a lot of things that could have gone wrong, and we would have scarred that foal for life.

>Pinkie: “But we didn’t, did we~?”

>you’re looking around; a few couples are walking, the streets are definitely well lit with the occasional guard, but otherwise the place is somewhat deserted beyond the one or two traveling carts

>there is that gloomy song again, a lone violin chiming its harmonic distress

>you can hear it almost perfectly now, as if someone is playing it on the rooftops

>you look up, but it was obvious from the start that you wouldn’t find the source

>it was a few minutes of chattering with Pinkie Pie when she and you felt it

>the same feeling as before, that threatening aura

…How many, and where?

>she stares forward as you glance around; there’s no one else here besides the two of you and-

>Pinkie: “Just one, and straight ahead. Anon…”

>you look at the end of the street, and the violin’s tune trails away, swallowed by the darkness

>about thirty feet down under a streetlight, a lone night soldier stands

>you can only assume he’s one of Luna’s soldiers because of his skin color on his neck

>however, his pose and dominating helmet made it clear he was not built for sentry duty

>the slick leather and metal strips, the spikes protruding from the side of his jaw guard

>as a small gust of wind makes the only sound the sleeping town apparently has to offer, you see the menacing foe tilting his head to the side, cricking his neck

>combined with the vicious looking dagger in his mouth, it was evident what his job details consisted of:

>assassination.

Pinkie- run, now. Take a right, follow me into the alley.

-----

>the blood in your ears are pounding as you sprint into the alley, trying to find the most distinguished place to defend yourself

>an open battle would lead to questions, and to kill a guard without actual authorization, especially just after the trial, would likely result in undesirable effects

>you shoot corner after corner, knocking trash cans over and trying to be as noiseless as possible

>you can barely hear him making a solid beeline to you, hopping over obstacles like it was nothing

>after a compact minute of sprinting, you quickly realize that he stopped following you as the two of you venture through the maze of back alleys

Pinkie, stop!

>she grinds to a halt just as you pull out the combat knife

>just in time to meet the assassin’s blade, who leapt out from around the corner

>???: “So, you can read my patterns…”

You’re too predictable.

>the two of you separate and strike defensive poses with your respective weapons

>your long, durable weapon is more than a match to the twisted and gnarled dagger he possesses

>Pinkie is rapidly by your side, a butcher knife in her mouth

Be careful, I don’t know the extent of his skill.

>of all the most peculiar responses he could give, he takes the cake by leaping back and sheathing his weapon

>???: “I have orders for your immediate surrender and execution by her royal majesty Princess Luna.”

I don’t suppose she gave a good reason why, or if you think her sister is tolerable with this.

>???: “I am to follow Princess Luna’s orders only. Will you give yourself up and let me provide a painless death? I am willing to spare the pink associate of yours.”

>your marefriend stands and takes the butcher knife in her hands

>Pinkie: “Fuck off, dude. You’ll be wishing I wasn’t involved.”

>the assassination redraws his blade and begins charging and you crouch, ready to counter his lunge easily

>it’s a smooth dodge in either direction, using your body to lead him to his demise the moment he reaches you

>you hear the violin one last time playing a solitary note, a low octave E natural

>it’s ominous and foreboding as the trained killer stops, dropping the knife

>???: “No, it can’t be…!”

>a flash of light takes your eyes as an even brighter line slashes in front of you, the note finishing itself as a gurgling noise is made from the blinding scene

>the line forms into a slash worthy of that of a sword, clearing everything in its path as forces its presence through space itself

-----

>it takes a few seconds for your eyes to readjust from sudden brightness to absolute darkness

>Pinkie: “Wowee, what was th- ohhh…”

>she shudders as you take in the sight as well

>it appears the assassin has been assassinated

>this has been done so by a speedy and grizzly decapitation, his head a couple yards behind his body

>you shiver when you see a robed figure with a violin case on their back, and the bow to play it in their mouth

>the bow is plastered in blood as the pony swings the fluid away

>???(2): “Princess Luna has confirmed that she wants to kill you personally, Anon. However, I could not let you interfere with this internal investigation by killing this pony.”

>a slightly older mare’s voice, splendid

>it’s a damn shame you can’t spot a physical detail beyond that

>the pony in question latches the bow, whose strings finally stopped glowing, onto the case

Who are you, and why was he attacking me?

>???(2): “The second question is rhetorical, and the first one is unanswerable. The only things I can say that the fact both of you have such weapons is very dubious, and you need to relocate yourself from here before I contact the authorities.”

>you brandish your combat knife before stowing it away, its steel unfazed by anything but the small collision with his dagger

I always carry this ever since I was attacked. As for Pinkie here, well…

>she’s doing her best to shuffle the butcher knife away again, but its presence can still be felt

>apparently the robed figure did not give a fuck

>???(2): “I don’t want your excuses, we’ll be meeting soon enough anyways. Displace yourselves, now.”

>with no need to be told again, you ruffle Pinkie’s mane as you both traverse, eventually returning to a main street

-----

We’re still about ten minutes from the club. That was a bit more of a thrill than I wanted, and although I really would like to know who that crazy bitch is, I think we better try forgetting what just happened for now.

>Pinkie brushes against your leg, giving you watery eyes

>Pinkie: “That was really scary, though! What if that guy hurt you?</3”

Not a chance, I had the blade ready to cut his throat, but it appeared the pony beat me to it.

>Pinkie: “Why does Luna suspect us so badly, and why is she dead set on killing you~?”

Pitiable little Princess must have really liked her nephew, poor baby.

>soon enough, you hear the noise as you reach the outskirt of Canterlot

>more and more ponies are grouped about, and soon you’re in front the most popular club Canterlot has to offer

>”The Night Owl”

>looks like this isn’t much of a place to look at during the day, it surely is a spectacle in the night

>standing on the sidewalk in front of the busy joint, you see a small line

Ready to dance your pants off?

>Pinkie winks at you

>Pinkie: “As long as it’s you that’s removing the pants~!<3”

>end