//------------------------------//
// VII// Story: What You Can't Tell Anypony Else, or Rumble's Reluctance// by The Elusive Badgerpony//------------------------------//

He loved her.

He loved her, Rumble was certain that he loved her. He had to love her, because she loved him. It might have seemed a bit too easy to believe at first, but as it turned out, it was true. He loved her because of how much she needed him, how much she wanted him, how much she wanted to be a part of him. That was love, of course- being two pieces of a bigger whole.

It was Sunday. A few days after the Crusaders meeting. Rumble had passed upon becoming a member. They simply seemed like such good friends to Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle and Applebloom, and Rumble was afraid of imposing himself upon an already established trio. It would be like those old photos that Thunderlane would often paste pictures of himself into. It just wouldn’t be right to go into something he didn’t have any association with before.

Well, he did have Scootaloo.

And she had essentially done that to him.

Imposed herself. Scootaloo had thrust herself into Rumble’s mind with jet-engine speed, and had clutched into his conscious with steel hooks. But that was love. It wasn’t friendship. Though friendship was a part of love…

Rumble tried not to think too hard about it.

He was standing outside of the Ponyville Cinema, the town’s most recent attraction. Only a year old, and its business was booming. Ponies from all across town came to the cinema because it was so new. Rumble himself had gone to it a few times in the past, although Thunderlane’s home theatre setup was adequate for his needs. If he wasn’t thinking about Scootaloo, he might have mused about how the place was beautiful, furnished with all sorts of ornate, carved pillars, the ceiling seeming far taller inside of the building than outside of it, and how, even from the exterior, the entire place smelled of buttered popcorn, smelled of movies.

Instead, he was thinking of Scootaloo.

He was supposed to meet her today. Five minutes ago. She wanted to watch a movie with him. Rumble had robotically agreed to the arrangement. It seemed romantic enough to a colt whose only experience with romance was through a filly who had forced it upon him. Not that it mattered anymore. It didn’t matter, because he really did love her, and even though her methods where… Extreme…

Was it worth the pit in his stomach every time he saw her?

The sways of sickness he sometimes felt when he saw mares and stallions flirting, as they often did in blustery Febuary?

The pangs of guilt, the stabs of frustration, the aches and groans of his newly-found sexual need?

Rumble groaned, and put his head into a hoof. He hated it when his head talked to him like that. When it nagged him like that. When it told him that he was wrong, that he didn’t love her. But he did. Well, at least he was trying to convince himself that he did. No, he didn’t need to convince himself. Because it was true. Because if she loved him, he loved her. Rumble groaned. His head hurt. He didn’t need to think about these things. He needed to see Scootaloo, potentially have sex with her after the movie, or did they even need to wait until after? The theatre got pretty dark and very, very loud very, very fast, and they’d probably be done before the movie was over. Maybe other ponies would watch. That was fine, if Thunderlane’s collection was anything to go by- No. No, it wasn’t fine. Because then they’d know. And nopony was-

“Hey, are you okay, Rumble?”

Rumble looked up.

Scootaloo.

No. Not Scootaloo. Instead, it was an off-pinkish gray-haired unicorn, with lovely golden eyes, and a blonde, untamed mane. Dinky Doo Hooves.

She had handed him the note.

Dinky Doo had inadvertently started all of this.

“I… Uhm… I… I was just…”

Could he say it?

No. He couldn’t. He couldn’t trust Dinky Doo, because he didn’t really know her very well. She had just stuck the note in his feathers. Scootaloo’s note. She didn’t need to know what happened after that. She didn’t need to know the pain and humiliation, and then the begrudging acceptance, and then the confusion and the guilt, and then the sadness and self-destruction, and then right back to begrudging acceptance, in the form of what Rumble had decided to call love. The butterflies in his gut when he saw Scootaloo, the way she would flick her tail at him on the playground sometimes, daring him. Just daring him. Ditzy Doo didn’t need to know all of that.

“I was just gonna… See a movie. Ya know? I… I try to do this every… Weekend… And stuff…”

Why was he stuttering?

Dinky Doo giggled. Her voice was high, nasal, and yet it struck a chord with Rumble. Where Scootaloo was rough, her diction rushed and clear, Dinky was different. Her voice was soft, almost muffled in the oversized scarf she wore, and she seemed to speak slowly, enunciating every word clearly, a habit most likely picked up from her mother instead of a result of personal simplemindedness. She wasn’t. Simpleminded, that is. Dinky Doo was one of the brightest kids in class. Rumors were abound that she had even been moved up a year.

Where Scootaloo was lean and muscular, Dinky was slightly tubby, perhaps a result of her diet, which as far as Rumble knew was muffins. Muffins of all sorts, her mother being a specialist at muffin baking. Her face crinkled quite beautifully whenever she giggled, which was often, especially with Rumble looking her up and down. And her eyes! Rumble had never seen anything like it. They were a spectacular pair of golden orbs that seemed to shine like the actual stuff, almost glowing in the cloudy, darkening winter’s noon. Rumble had to look away.

Scootaloo was cute.

But Dinky Doo was tremendously beautiful.

There was a pit in his gut.

It was like the pit he saw when he saw Scootaloo, but different. Different in that it seemed a much warmer sort of knot. It seemed looser, less frantic, and more wary. Scootaloo cared for him. He knew that much. But that was because she had to, because she loved him. Dinky was genuinely interested in his well-being.

Maybe he could watch the movie with Dinky instead.

No.

Rumble shook his head, and Dinky tilted hers.

“What’s wrong, Rumble? You look really agitated.”

He shook his head again.

“I was… Well…”

He didn’t want to say it. If he said it, if he asked her, if he showed anything like desire towards her… The movies always showed it. Heroes were never supposed to do stuff with other fillies when they already had a marefriend. She was a marefriend, wasn’t she? Scootaloo. To him. Right? They had never said it to one another, but maybe they didn’t have to, since he loved her and she loved him.

Well, if she loved him…

A part of love was forgiveness, Rumble remembered hearing. Letting little things slide. Little things like taking a pretty filly into a movie. It wasn’t like he was going to kiss her or anything. It wasn’t like he loved Dinky. He loved Scootaloo. And Scootaloo would understand.

Rumble rubbed at his stomach, where the knot was, the ambiguous, confusing knot. He didn’t want to know what it meant. He already knew what he needed to know. Scootaloo loved him, and he loved her. He loved her. Nopony else. Not Dinky Doo, as pretty and kind and wonderful as she was. Scootaloo. Always Scootaloo. It would always be Scootaloo.

Maybe it wouldn’t.

What if it wouldn’t? Because it would. It would, Rumble knew, because he loved her and he was really, really interested in what Dinky was like.

“Uh, Dinky, I…”

She tilted her head, and giggled.

“You really tickle my funny bone when you’re all embarrassed.”

Embarassed.

Scootaloo liked him flustered too.

Rumble looked at the ground. He just wanted to be rid of the pit in his gut. If it meant seeing the movie with Dinky instead of Scootaloo, as they had planned…

He just needed to know.

“Dinky, do you, uh, wanna see a movie? Like, I mean, we should go in now since it’s gonna start soon and stuff, and I had two tickets so you don’t have to pay, I was gonna see it with… With… Uhm…”

Excuse.

Excuse.

Excuse.

Bingo.

“Thunderlane! I was gonna, uhm, watch it with Thunderlane. But he saw Flitter and Cloudchaser… Cloudchaser’s friends, and he… Started following them and-“

“Rumble, I can’t. I apologize, but my mom wants me back at home by seven.”

Rumble’ face fell.

So he wouldn’t get to explain how he felt. He wouldn’t get to know Dinky Doo. He wouldn’t hear her laughing for the afternoon, hear her cute little voice whispering in his ear, feel her bubbly laughter through her lips, spreading into his, push his hooves into her ample flank while plun-

Rumble shook his head, desperately chastising himself.

He loved Scootaloo. Nopony else. Scootaloo. It was Scootaloo, it would always be Scootaloo, there was room for nopony else, Scootaloo had barged into his brain and refused to come out, and Rumble respected that, loved her for that, because he had done the exact same thing to her, he had pushed her down, forced himself onto her, and made her accept his love, because that was all that mattered, them loving each other. And nopony else. Ever. Not even Dinky Doo Hooves, who had a cute, cherubic little body with a matching face, and a perfectly disheveled mane, and her horn, rounded at the top, seemed almost too small for her head, wedged between and above the eyebrows that only drew somepony to her golden eyes, eyes that were so shiny, so glittery, eyes that could shield out all of the bad things so that she could shower other ponies in compliments and kindness and general wonderfulness.

There was only room for Scootaloo.

“Uhm… Okay. Okay.”

“But…”

Rumble’s heart made a small leap, and he felt disgusted for it.

“I can go with you tomorrow! There’s a show at three-thirty, right after school gets out! We can meet at the gate into the schoolyard, and you and I can go then! And you can go with Thunderlane tonight, but I mean, if you want to see a movie tomorrow, I think if we catch the matinee, I should be okay to get home!”

Another leap, another twinge of disgust.

“I… I guess, I mean…”

“Rumble! Hey!”

Rumble’s eyes went wide open.

Scootaloo.

There she was. She looked tired, winded, even though she had ridden her motor scooter over to the theatre. Her mane was disheveled, but more in the worrisome way that a crazy pony’s would be, instead of the adorably erratic way Dinky Doo’s was. Her eyes had the slightest bit of bags underneath them, the indication of poor sleeping habits, and she swayed a bit as she got off her motorscooter, letting out a small groan.

“Sorry I’m late, Rumble, I felt a little sick.”

He said nothing.

“…Who’s this?”

Still nothing. Dinky Doo came to his rescue, putting out a hoof, smiling broadly.

“My name is Dinky Doo Hooves, and you must be Scootaloo! I sit in front of you in class!”

Scootaloo seemed to have blanked out a bit, staring forward into Dinky Doo’s eyes, and Rumble swore that there was the barest glimmer of dislike in them, or maybe it was his conscious playing tricks on him. Dinky Doo, oblivious to any animosity from the orange pegasus filly in front of her, simply kept the hoof out.

Scootaloo shook her head.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, I’m just… A little bit out of it, I’ve been a bit under the weather lately…”

The hoof hesitated then.

“Oh…”

“Oh, no no no, it’s not, like, contagious or anything or... Well, my friends aren’t sick or anything, so it’s probably just me!” Scootaloo gave a nervous laugh, taking Dinky’s hoof and giving it a firm shake.

“Oh, well then, I really hope you get better!” Dinky Doo giggled again, and Rumble almost closed his eyes, wanting to take that noise and shut it in a jar forever. A jar that he could share with Scootaloo. Although judging by her wince, Scootaloo wasn’t quite as taken by it as he was.

“Yeah, uhm, maybe you should go…”

The words trailed off into a mumble, but what was said was still audible. Rumble took a step back, but Dinky just glanced at the town hall.

“Oh, shucks!”

Another noise to add to the jar.

“You’re right, I better get going home. Bye, Rumble! Nice meeting you formally, Scootaloo!”

She trotted away, her tail barely brushing against the very tip of Rumble’s nose, and Rumble let his eyes linger over her as she went down the street. Her hips seemed to sway a bit, the saddlebags around them filled to the brim with groceries- eggs, flour, milk… Her hips seemed to sway a bit. She had nice hips, load-carrying hips, perhaps she had some Earth Pony blood? But that wouldn’t make sense, her mom was a Pegasus and her dad had most likely been a Unicorn, otherwise she wouldn’t… Her hips seemed to sway a bit, what nice, plush, luscious-

He felt something slap against the back of his head, and Rumble cried out, not in pain, but surprise. Scootaloo was giving him the same gaze she had given him… He remembered now. The angry gaze. He hadn’t seen it since.

“Stop staring,” Scootaloo commanded.

“I’m not-“

“You are, Rumble. Stop.”

“But-“

“If you love me, Rumble, you’ll stop staring at her.”

“But I wasn’t-“

“Yes you were! Don’t lie to me!”

The gaze hardened.

Rumble swore that Scootaloo’s eyes were on fire, that the frown that had formed across her face was pulling on his own face, pulling it off, but he couldn’t look away, her brow contracted in a way fearsome, cautionary, as if she wasn’t even really angry yet, but Rumble knew she was. Shame rose through his entire body, propelled by adrenaline, pumping through his veins, making him cower.

“I… I’m sorry…”

Scootaloo sighed, her face softening.

“So you were looking.”

“No! No, but… I was just… No… Scootaloo…”

He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, but she tried to swat away his face.

“Rumble!”

“Sorry!”

Her face had whispers of fear about it.

“Rumble, ponies are going to know when you do that stuff. Just don’t, okay? Don’t. Only when we’re alone.”

He didn’t respond.

Rumble was looking at Scootaloo’s face, trying to get himself to feel the knot he felt before. Her features were harden, sunken by whatever sickness she had gotten, clearly lacking sleep and fatigue. Her mane was in even more disarray than normal. Her eyes, twin magenta orbs, now cloudy. The knot didn’t come up. He had to think of Dinky Doo’s face.

“Rumble?”

“Hm?! Wah? What…”

“Rumble, we should go in, the movie’s gonna start soon.”

><><

“I love you!”

A mere few weeks ago, Rumble would have groaned. Now, he simply stared blankly at the screen, at the well-manicured teenage colt on the screen, saying the words that he never would have the courage to say to the pony that he wanted to say that he loved, that he needed to say that he loved. If he didn’t love her, what was the past few weeks?

Confusion. Fear. Self-hatred. Self-destruction. He wouldn’t put himself through those things if he didn’t love Scootaloo. He had to love her. It was the rules, because she loved him. What was this movie about again?... A colt in love with a filly that didn’t love him back, but there was another filly that he did love… Something like that. It was corny, cheesy, terrible. Rumble started to wonder why he had come to watch it.

And then Scootaloo nudged him, nuzzling her face into his neck, and he let out a breath that, apparently, he had been holding in.

“Rumble,” she whispered.

“Mmk?”

Her hoof trailed around his chest as she held herself close to him, breathing in deeply, as if to take in whatever scent he had. Rumble kept his eyes glued to the screen, but found it all so uninteresting, found it all distant, found that the love that was on the screen wasn’t real, wasn’t actual love, wasn’t what he was feeling then.

Except he wasn’t.

That was weird. He loved Scootaloo.

“I’m really sorry for getting mad at you and stuff.”

He leaned his head against hers. Nothing.

“Uhm… Okay.”

“I just feel really bad about it... Do you wanna let me make you happy for a bit?”

“Wha…”

She hopped out of her seat, and crouched down onto the ground, crawling between Rumble’s legs, and his stomach began to gnaw at itself. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t love. But he loved her. She gave his sheath a small kiss, but it didn’t register.

“Uhm…”

She gave it a lick, and Rumble sighed, leaning back in the chair.

“Scootaloo… You…”

“Mmm?”

It still hadn’t left the sheath.

“You don’t have to, Scootaloo, it’s… It’s okay…”

“No, Rumble… I wanna do this for ya…”

She licked it.

Nothing.

“Well… I…”

He didn’t feel anything anymore.

Something was wrong. Just a few days ago, he would have been overcome by this. He wouldn’t have known what to do. He would have been unsheathed long before Scootaloo had started touching it. He might have started crying, or struggling, or trying to get away. But he didn’t feel anything. It still felt good when she licked it, but it didn’t feel the same. It wasn’t the same tidal wave of emotional energy. It was apathetic, lifeless.

He looked up at the screen. A pair of teenaged ponies were making out passionately, humming and moaning into each other’s mouths. He closed his eyes, trying to imagine that it was Scootaloo and him doing that.

But instead it was Dinky Doo.

Twitch.

Rumble felt a twitch. He opened an eye and looked down, seeing the very head of his dick poking out.

But… He loved Scootaloo. Why was it that when he thought of Dinky Doo…

Twitch.

It wasn’t right! It had to be a mistake. It had to be. Rumble shut his eyes tightly, and concentrated. Scootaloo. Scootaloo in the Mare-Do-Well costume, pushing him down, lining up and spearing herself perfectly onto his length…

Nothing.

Dinky Doo tilting her head, looking at his length with an indelible curiosity. Her eyes shift to his, a pair of perfectly innocent, golden orbs. She smiles, and, tentatively, unsure of what she’s doing, she gives his length a lick.

Twitch.

It had to be a mistake.

Scootaloo took his length in his mouth, but Rumble kept thinking of Dinky Doo. She could stop him from looking, but she couldn’t stop him from thinking. As Scootaloo’s mouth traveled down his stiffening rod, Rumble imagined that it was Dinky Doo, looking up at him, humming over it as the taste, unfamiliar in her mouth, spread out in between her lips. Scootaloo pulled off for a breath, and Rumble groaned, the imaginary Dinky Doo disappearing.

“Ah…”

“Wh…”

“Just checking to see if you’re okay, Rumble…”

He wanted her to keep going. Because he loved her, and she just wanted to make him happy. And he couldn’t think of Dinky without her. At that moment, the latter seemed to be a bit more important to him. It wasn’t that he wanted to think of her. It was that he wanted to know why he was thinking of her, and experience is the best teacher.

“Don’t… Stop or anything. Just… Keep doing what you were doing…”

Scootaloo gave a quiet little giggle, and took his length back into her mouth. Rumble put his head back, and started thinking again.

Dinky Doo looking up at him, humming, licking him when she went all the way down, licking at the base. She was a quick learner. She was, after all, one of the smartest fillies in class. She suckled on it hungrily, needily, wanting more of the taste, every groan or hum from Rumble seeming to spur her on. He opened his eyes, looking down, and only saw Scootaloo, and the excitement, the drive, the pleasure…

It left.

It just wasn’t supposed to be this way.

He closed his eyes again. If he loved her, why didn’t he care anymore that they we redoing it? Why didn’t it excite him at all? He should at least be scared. They were in a public place, after all. Granted, in the dark, and in the back corner where it was unlikely that they would be interrupted, but regardless, there should at least have been some tension. But nothing. He only felt good, he only felt anything when he thought of Dinky Doo.

“Mmmm…”

The images shot through his brain like tank shells. Dinky Doo suckling gently on the tip of it, her eyes gently closed, now confident that she was doing a good job. Rumble sighed, running a hoof through her mane, but Scootaloo’s throaty hum of content wasn’t the same. Was it? He didn’t know, he hadn’t fucked Dinky D-

Rumble shook his head.

He knew he couldn’t do that, ever.

Which was why it seemed like such a good idea.

What would it matter? It wasn’t like he was telling her that he had sex with Scootaloo. He was sharing his experience, yes, maybe. But it wasn’t like it was anything bad. Thunderlane kept… No. Rumble didn’t want to be like Thunderlane. Ever. And he wouldn’t be, since he loved Scootaloo. But that didn’t mean that he could love Dinky Doo too.

He was getting close, the tip of his length growing tingly, sensitive to every lick, every suckle, every hum. Rumble let his neck go limp, his head rolling on the back of the seat, trying to keep his moans soft, his eyes closed. He couldn’t think of Scootaloo. All he wanted at that moment was Dinky Doo. Why did he want Dinky Doo? What was wrong with Scootaloo? She loved him, and he loved her.

But she just wasn’t Dinky Doo.

She didn’t get the same reaction.

Rumble shut his eyes tightly, sighed, and gave it up, firing into Scootaloo’s mouth, but to him, where he was then, he had just pulled off a reluctant Dinky Doo and  let go into her face, his juices drizzling over it, and he felt that it wasn’t right. It wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Scootaloo had taken him, not Dinky. He had no reason to be with Dinky besides the fact that he thought she looked kind of cute. Scootaloo had made it apparent that she wanted him; Dinky was clearly just friendly by nature.

Scootaloo quickly slipped up back into her seat, leaning into Rumble’s side and sighing, The movie was almost over, the teenaged colts both sobbing over a coffin. She gulped, and Rumble realized that Scootaloo had been holding it in her mouth the whole time, just swallowing in order to speak.

“What a shitty movie,” she quipped with a giggle, nuzzling into Rumble’s side.

He took her word for it.

He would watch a different movie with Dinky Doo the next day.

><><

“Rumble?”

“Mmmgh… Wah?”

“Rumble!”

“Huh… Uhm… Four! Eighteen-Twelve! Abrayham Lincoln!”

Once again, it was that boiler room of a classroom, and once again, Rumble had fallen into reverie. Only now it wasn’t about Scootaloo. It was about innocence and innocuous infatuation, golden spheres that melted the heart and pierced into the mind, gently, like a syringe, not like a sledgehammer, like the orange coat and taut body that had been his previous obsession.

Rumble didn’t like that word. Obsession. He wasn’t obsessed. Obsessed was Thunderlane. Obsessed was changing the mare you dated back and fourth between a few dozen and changing them out with the weeks. He was curious. Curious was a more proper word. He wanted to know how she felt, how her little voice sounded in his ear as she breathed over it, the warmth of her body pressed tightly against his, the golden orbs closed, a blissful expression upon her wondorous, cherubic features. Scootaloo was pretty in her own right, and she could wait for now. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt he-

“Rumble!”

“Oh! Uh, aaah…”

Miss Cheerilee clucked her tongue, and Rumble looked down at his desk. She had made that same noise in one of the porn movies, chastising a shoplifting zebra. He didn’t want to think about it. Well, maybe he did. With him as the zebra and Scootaloo… Dinky Doo… Scoota Doo… Dinkyloo… Somepony else in the costume. Anypony. Except for Miss Cheerilee. Maybe Miss Cheerilee.

“It’s like every time we talk about this, Rumble, it just manages to get worse for you. Moving on…”

And he zoned out, again, isolating himself from the world with his own thoughts, a veritable mental fortress. Rumble didn’t know how he was going to go about it… He needed a plan. He needed to make a move during the movie. Making a move involved talking, which probably meant going to a movie that Dinky wouldn’t get too involved in, so that they could talk, but Rumble didn’t want to see that crappy movie he had seen the day before with Scootaloo-

A note. Stuck in his feathers.

He looked back.

He was greeted by boundless energy radiating from golden eyes and a pudgy, warm face, and he immediately had no idea what to say. His stomach turned over, and he put his head in his hooves, feeling a bit woozy. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t love. He didn’t love Dinky Doo. He loved Scootaloo. Whatever this was, he disliked it, and yet, wanted a bigger, better taste of it, a bigger spoonful of-

The ruler cracked down on the desk.

“Rumble!”

“Y-yes, Miss-“

Her look was stern, anger far from it, a mixture of disappointment and frustration, her brow furrowed into several tiny crests and valleys, her mouth pulled at the corners.

“That’s the second time this month you’ve violated the notes policy! What could be so important that you could ignore the classtime I give you?!”

Mare-Do-Well.

Rumble gulped. She was going to push him down, right? Push out his lungs, take his-

She had the note.

Miss Cheerilee was unfolding the note, and everything was moving in slow motion. Rumble had to do something, and he chose the first thing that came to mind.

He hopped out of his seat, nabbed the note in his mouth as he did, and proceeded to suck it in and chew.

Now Miss Cheerilee was angry.

“Rumble! You spit that out right now!”

“Noah,” he mumbled through a mouthful of paper. His classmates were rolling in their seats with laughter. They didn’t understand the nature of the situation, but then again, Rumble and Scootaloo didn’t want them to understand that there even was a situation. And the last person to let know was Miss Cheerilee. The message was soaked with saliva in his mouth, and Rumble suckled on it, trying to get it soggy enough to tear and more easily pull apart to go into his stomach.

“Rumble, I swear by the Goddess, you spit that out right now, or I’m suspending you for the rest of the day for insubordination!”

The laughter stopped.

It just stopped. Even the Crusts, snarkers incarnate, were struck dumb. She wouldn’t. She simply wouldn’t. There was no way she would ever. Miss Cheerilee had never suspended a student before. Even with her face as hard as it was now, even with the subtle wrinkles stretched and pulled, the result of more issues than a teacher should ever have to bear with the student body, she wouldn’t ever do it. She couldn’t. Miss Cheerilee wasn’t mean, even if she took her class very seriously.

Though Rumble’s equally firm expression back at her wasn’t doing well for his case, his mouth gently chewing the tasteless, dry paper. His eyes were an expression of outrage, as if how dare Cheerilee pull him out of his reverie, how dare she try to maintain order in her class, how dare she, a hypocrite, a whore supposedly reformed, but Rumble was fairly sure that Thunderlane had dated her a few times, and she spent too much time around the Apple farm to be a patron of apples, and Social Services… How could she? Who was she, even?

Rumble gulped, and the note was gone.

He knew who she was. Thunderlane.

She was no better than Thunderlane. She was a Janus-faced, self-serving cunt. She was an ex-pornstar trying to eliminate that reputation, but also taking pride in it, loving the way her still-lucious hips would sway or how age had simply added husk to the sultry tone she would take, watching the videos of her heyday and taking pride in that she was that beautiful mare doing those dirty deeds, gang-banging zebra groups, everything full, everything wondrous, too many dicks to even bother to count. Now she was trying to help children.

Rumble didn’t want her help anymore. He didn’t want anypony’s help anymore.

“Rumble, go home. Me and your guardian are going to have a little talk this afternoon. Take the time to think about what you’ve done.”

“I know what I haven’t done,” he mumbled.

“I’m sorry?”

“I know what I haven’t done.”

“We can discuss it lat-“

“I haven’t done six zebras and a mare, Mare-Do-Fucking-Well.”

And with that, Rumble left his seat, walked down the aisle, and left, ignoring Miss Cheerilee’s cries after him.

“What are you- How do you- Rumble, get back here! Rumble!...”

><><

“Dude, what are you doing home so-“

“Shut up!”

Now that he was gone, now that nopony could see him, now that he didn’t have to look like he was okay, now that he was alone in the world and the only other person in the house didn’t care about him, Rumble could cry again. He kept strong, until he made it to his bedroom, where he promptly collapsed onto his bed, sniffling and sobbing.

It wasn’t fair that he couldn’t tell anypony.

It just wasn’t. If it happened to Thunderlane, he would have just taken it in stride. He would have enjoyed it. He wouldn’t have spent weeks with craving, and fear, and disappointment, and disillusion, and he wouldn’t have thought of the same filly for a week straight, he wouldn’t have felt empty without her, he wouldn’t have done any of those things, because he was Thunderlane. Thunderlane, who switched out mares like lightbulbs, simply going to the next thing when a previous relationship burnt out and lost its passion. Thunderlane didn’t love anypony.

Rumble did. He loved…

He loved…

Scraddleroo.

That was it, right? Scraddleroo, Scabafoo, Monkeydoo, Doolittle… Something. An orange-furred pegasus with a purple mane in constant disarray. He loved her. He didn’t want her right now, though. In fact, the smell of her on his sheets, the sickly, sweet smell of their dried juices all over his sheets… It made him feel a bit sick, really, as if it wasn’t what he wanted. Scobatoo loved him, so he was supposed to love her back.

He did love her, after all. There was no question of it.

Maybe there was. The gray-furred, golden-eyed, wonderfully plump Dinky Doo. She was the question. Maybe she was the answer, too. Maybe she could love him too. There wasn’t a rule that Rumble couldn’t love more than one mare. Thunderlane… No, he didn’t want to be Thunderlane. He couldn’t be Thunderlane. Ever. They were brothers, and that was where the similarities ended, and where it would always end. Unlike Thunderlane, Rumble could love, and love he would do.

He had been crying.

Rumble sat up on his bed, and tried to put himself together. He breathed deeply, hoping to get that under control. He heaved, his eyes closed, letting the tears go, quickly wiping them away. He wanted Dinky Doo. There was no mistake. There was no questioning. He wanted her, because as much as he loved Scamadroo, he loved Dinky Doo too, and he wanted to know her, wanted to feel her, smell her slit and give it long, lustful licks, and he’d tell her a lie, like it tasted like muffins, and she would just be happy, because she loved him, and he loved her.

That was how it worked, right?

How did it work?

It didn’t work.

But it did.

Rumble put his face into a pillow. So many questions. He didn’t want to ask questions. He wanted to get answers, but he felt too tired to get them at that moment. It was as if a few weeks of pain had finally decided to hit home where it really should have, and Rumble slowly found himself falling into a deep sleep, drifting in and out, until he stayed out for a long while.

><><

He woke up and felt something warm on his back, breathing into his ear.

Skaddleoo.

So she wanted to do it again. Rumble yawned, smacking his lips together, opening his eyes slightly, hoping that he could get unsheathed for her. It hadn’t had worked before… No, she didn’t want to do it again.

She had been crying into his shoulder, holding him in a crushing grip, sobbing gently. When she realized he was awake, she seemed to hold him even tighter, and Rumble almost started struggling in her hooves as she pushed the air from his lungs.

“Sca… Sco… Scoo…”

Scootaloo.

Why did he forget.

“R-Rumble, I… I screwed… I screwed up again…”

He didn’t respond, and his silence willed her to continue.

“Well, I… I screwed up the first time, but I really screwed up, like, really, really screwed up, and I’m really, really sorry…”

He was supposed to love her. And he did. He really did. So he wasn’t sure why he wanted her to go away so badly.

“It’s… Scootaloo… It’s okay… I mean, whatever it is-“

“Rumble, this is, is… It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, Rumble, I…”

“What did you do?”

Scootaloo was quiet for a moment.

Rumble turned over and looked her over. She was an absolute mess. Her mane was in complete disarray, her eyes sunken and bloodshot from crying, and the flow of tears continued while she sobbed gently, shivering slightly. Rumble raised the blanket up to her neck, then pulled her in close, their nuzzles almost touching. He wasn’t going to kiss her, because he wanted to hear what she had to say. He still loved her. And because he did, he would listen.

“I… Rumble… I… I’m scared that you’re gonna… Gonna hate-“

“Shut up and tell me what you did.”

Her eyes widened, and she almost seemed to push back on him slightly. But she simply looked away from his eyes, trying not to look at him.

“Rumble, I’m… You gave me a… I… When I took you, you…”

“Tell me.”

She had to look at him now, looking into his eyes.

“Just promise me you won’t be mad at me…”

Rumble gave an exasperated sigh, and kissed her on the lips.

“I won’t if you tell me.”

“Okay…”

There was silence.

And then, with three words, Rumble realized that the secrets were going to end soon.

“Rumble, I’m pregnant.”

“…Pffft.”

Rumble couldn’t hold it in.

He started to giggle.

“…Ruh… Rumble?”

He was shaking uncontrollably. He knew he had to keep quiet, Goddess forbid that Thunderlane come in here and find them, and he just couldn’t stop himself. He took in massive breaths, trying to douse the flames of laughter with air, but it wasn’t working. Rumble eventually resorted to stuffing his face into a pillow, lurching with every burst of a laugh that popped up from his lungs, mirth running through his veins.

“Rumble?”

Scootaloo’s voice wasn’t as questioning as it was condemning, and Rumble knew it, but he found something out.

He didn’t care.

He couldn’t bring himself to care. This little filly, this poor, poor wreck of a pony, had pushed him over and raped him. Then she proceeded to come to his house several times and continue to have sex with him. Then he turned the tables on her. And now she was telling him that she was pregnant. It was a joke. It had to be. The entire past few weeks were all a big, mean joke. Fillies her age couldn’t get pregnant! He knew it! It was impossible. Rumble’s face was contorted into a massive, shit-eating grin, and Scootaloo’s tears flowed even further. She was a great actor! This was just the funniest thing.

“Rumble, w-why are you l-laughiiing…”

“I just… I can’t! Hahah! It’s… You… Just… What a joke!”

“Rumble, I’m telling the tr-truth!”

“Ahahahaha! Yeah! Sure! Sure you are! So what if you are?! So what?! It’s all a joke! We never did it!”

“Rumble…”

“Ha! And ya know what?! You’re not really pregnant!”

“Rumble… I…”

“Yeah, yeah, and guess what? I don’t love you!”

Scootaloo’s mouth fell open.

Rumble stopped laughing, and suddenly, he knew that he wasn’t joking.

She didn’t say anything in response. She just let out a long, wailing cry, as if she was a small filly who had just gotten sand poured down her mane, only here, it was heartbreaking, and Rumble suddenly wanted to tell himself that he was joking, that it was a lie, that he did love her, and that she loved him. But he just knew it wasn’t true.

She turned around, sobbing and crying loudly, jumping down from the bed and running for the window, and as she slipped outside, as the window closed for maybe the last time that winter, as Scootaloo left his life forever, Rumble suddenly felt at peace.

There wasn’t a guilty bone in his body as he went back to sleep that night.

><><

And when he awoke, he felt the same.

Empty. Emotionless. Unfulfilled, yet Rumble had no problem with that- there were many things about him that were unfulfilled. It was as if something was missing. He couldn’t put his hoof on it. Yes, he had been a bit mean to Scootaloo, but she deserved it. She was a rapist. Rapists were bad ponies, and they generally got put into jail.

He still loved her.

No, he didn’t.

Rumble shook his head. He would bother himself with that question later. The morning passed as a grey blur of nothing in particular happening. Rumble got up, took a shower, brushed his teeth, ran a comb through his mane, checked his wings, preened them a bit. He went downstairs, ignoring Thunderlane’s conquest of the previous evening sitting at the table, grabbed a scone off of a plate, still hot from the microwave, slipped on his saddlebag, left the house, his face expressionless and his mindset apathetic. It was almost as if the past few weeks had never happened.

But they did. On occasion, an image would pop up from them. Rumble would just stare straight ahead, until the image went away. They kept happening, though. Scootaloo pushing him down, pushing the air out of his lungs.

“No! No! Don’t!” Rumble pleaded. “Let me go! Please!”

“Stop moving!” Scampergoo commanded, through clenched teeth. Tears were forming at the corners of Rumble’s eyes as he tried to shake her off, but Scattlewoo was firmly planted on her victim, the glint in her eyes that Rumble noticed earlier seemingly even brighter. He cried out in agony. If it was another colt, he might have fought back, but Thunderlane, as much of a douche as the guy was, had always reminded Rumble to never hit mares, even if they weren’t nice to him. Rumble thrashed about, but to no avail, and eventually, he could no longer do so. He held back his unstallionlike tears to try and save a little bit of face, and then he gasped as his assailant’s hoof traced down his body.

“I-I-I give,” Rumble sobbed, shivering weakly in the cold. “Uncle, please, just let me go…”

“Shut up,” Scuntajoo growled.

And then she touched him.

And he was pulled out of his reverie by the bell.

><><

Rumble couldn’t put his hoof on it.

The previous night, he thought he had put himself to rest. If anything, things were worse. He grunted with frustration as a wave of sadness hit him, tears coming to his eyes. Everything came in waves. He’d have waves of rage, breaking pencils and snorting, he’d have fits of sadness, he’d simply blank out, looking into nothing as memories resurged. It was beyond anything Rumble had ever felt before.

He sniffled, holding back the sadness. It wasn’t supposed to be there. Nothing was supposed to be there. Scootaloo wasn’t there.

No Scootaloo.

Rumble almost let out a sob. He had been awful to her that night. Both of those nights. The night where he… He got her back, so to speak, and the night when he told her that lie, that he didn’t love her, but he did. But maybe it was true, that he didn’t, but he didn’t have to be a douchebag about it. It really hurt her, and Rumble, for some reason, was concerned for her, worrying that she might do… Something. Something stupid. And he would never forgive himself for it.

“Rumble, are you okay?”

The voice.

The voice, like honey, sweet and lovely, the voice of a busy bee, and a busy bee was what Dinky Doo Hooves was. Rumble looked up at her, shaking his head, filling it instead with images of her, images of his design. Dinky Doo in the Mare-Do-Well costume, presenting her flank to him, admitting defeat to her greatest villain, the great, powerful Rumble, the most potent stallion in all of Manehatten, and he mounts her, he nibbles and bites at her ear, making her coo, and slowly, he aims, and slides-

“…Uhm, Rumble, you’re drooling.”

Rumble blinked out of his head, saw the somewhat anxious look on Ditzy’s face, and wiped his mouth.

“Oh.”

Dinky merely giggled.

“It’s okay! Phew, school today was long! It’s always really long!”

Rumble tilted his head. “Yeah, I know…”

He didn’t, though. The day was a blur. Everything was a blur. The past few weeks were a blur, memories resurging, reemerging, and all he could do was shake his head and hope that they would fall apart, leave his head, if only just for a bit.

“Well,” Dinky said, sweetly as always, “We should head out and catch that movie! The matinee should be starting soon…”

She beckoned him to come along, but his eyes didn’t follow the gesture.

They followed her rear.
