Come into her House (Ed)

Come into her House

    This was her house.
    She didn’t live here.  She didn’t own the place.  She only worked here a few nights a week.  She didn’t even make as much as the bartender, or the manager.  It was still her house.
    It was just past midnight at Ponyville’s only night club.  Things were just starting to get fun.  It wasn’t as nice as the exclusive clubs in Canterlot.  Still, it suited Scratch’s needs.  Her electronics were all first class.  The speaker system and lights were adequate.  She liked the place; it had character.  There were wood chips all over the dance floor.  That served two purposes.  The first was to deaden the sound of shod hooves clopping on a hard floor.  Acoustics were important to her business.  The second purpose was to make it easy for the morning cleaning crew.  The wood chips absorbed all the bodily fluids that fell in the night.  Usually that was sweat from hundreds of packed ponies, dancing away to Scratch’s beats.  Sometimes it was something other than sweat.
    Blood, for instance.  There had been a hoof fight earlier in the evening.  A couple of stallions were fighting over some whore pony.  One of them ended up with a broken nose and bled like a stuck pig.  The bouncers quickly threw all three of them out on their asses.  The loser went off to the urgent care clinic.  The whore blew the victor in the alley behind the club.
    What nobody knew was that Scratch had started the fight.  She pulled all the strings.  This was her house.  Her mood influenced the music.  Her music affected the mood of the ravers.  Earlier she had felt angry.  Frustrated.  Bothered.  The end result was a physical fight.  That’s how things went here, in her house.  Part of that was her natural artistic ability.  Part of it was the horn on top of her head.  This was her specialty.  Her sphere of influence was small, but her influence itself was powerful.
    Scratch was ready for a new mood.  She looked around the dance floor.  She shouldn’t have been able to.  Except for small lights illuminating her instruments, the room was dark.  There was a strobe light flaring.  There was a disco ball spinning above the floor.  But neither of those things aided in vision.  Still, Scratch could see all.  She had sight beyond sight.  It was one of the benefits of her horn.  She could see everything inside her house.
    The place was packed, all the way up to the fire code limit.  There were over two hundred ponies grooving to her beats.  They were literally packed in, most were up on their hind hooves, falling to all fours only when they occasionally lost their balance.  In her vision, three mares stood out from the crowd.  She recognized them as regulars.  Rarity.  Rose.  Lyra.  They were all dolled up for a night out on the town.  Short skirts, heavy make-up.  None of it was necessary when most ponies walked around naked all day, but it fit the scene.  They were each here with three stallion dates.  Scratch didn’t recognize them.  They were probably here from out of town.
    These three mares were the most important in the club, save for herself.  They were subliminal focal points for the electric vibe that spread out through the room.  They owned the floor, as it were.  None of the other ponies on the floor knew it, most couldn’t even see these mares even if they were standing right next to them.  But these mares were in charge.  They led the dance.  All behind Scratch, of course.  This was her house.
    Scratch was experimenting.  Just fiddling around, really.  She was mixing up tempos, samples, loops, trying to find a right groove.  She found one.  She looked up to find some of the ponies were bumping and grinding.  She grinned.  She had found a new mood.  Now it was just a matter of dialing it in.
    The sexual energy in the room spiked.  It was modified, amplified, fine-tuned.  Now every pony with a partner was bumping and grinding.  If they didn’t come with one they found one.  The odd ponies out joined couples to dance as threesomes.  Scratch could see everything.  She could see beyond the physical.  She could see the music as waveforms.  She could see the Fourier transforms.  The dancing was wild, but all coordinated to the beats that Scratch was spinning.
    Sweat flew in beads as ponies swung their manes.  The three important mares and their stallion dates were grinding particularly hard.  They were in each corner of the room, under the speakers.  Scratch watched as three large erections slid from their sheaths and swung between the legs of the mares.  Only Scratch could see.  The three slapping cocks were the only thing moving out of rhythm.  Scratch would soon correct that.
    Music played.  Ponies danced.  Scratch struggled to keep up.  It was so easy to lose control now.  There was too much to keep track of.  Things were building beyond her control.  Pre-ejaculate was dripping onto the wood chip covered floor.  Scratch could only think a few bars ahead of the actual music.  Three long, thin strings of vaginal fluid flowed down from the mares; they were nearly bursting with sexual energy.  A fourth appeared, Scratch’s own.  Dozens of switches, dials, slides and the turntables themselves were laid out before her.  Touch the wrong one, at the wrong moment, just a fraction off of the beat, and the mood would be over forever.
    There.  A new loop.  She had several seconds of free time.  Time enough to think.  Time to observe the crowd for feedback.  The three couples in the corners of the room were fucking now. Straight up fucking.  Short skirts were hiked up.  The mares were moaning.  Balls were slapping against pussies, right on time, right on line with the beat.  Now everything was perfectly in synchronization  Nobody was watching them fuck, even the ponies right next to them.  It was total sensory saturation.  But Scratch saw.
    It was time for the build.  Scratch applied a high pass filter.  The bass started falling out of the music.  All of the ponies cheered as the anticipation crescendoed.  The sexual energy of the three fucking couples had completely transferred to every mare and stallion on the floor.  The ponies were wild.  They raised their hooves towards the ceiling, worshiping Scratch as if she were Celestia herself spinning those beats.  All that was left of the music was the highs.
    Seven ponies came, the seventh being behind the turntables.
    The music from the speakers stopped.  All that was left was a single, shrill, clarion call.  It was half singing, half orgasmic screaming.  It came from Scratch herself.  And that too stopped.  There was dead silence.  There was no sound from the speakers, but the beat lived on.  The pulse of every pony’s heart was perfectly synchronized.  Scratch pulled the strings.  She counted to eight beats, and then double dropped the sickest, funkiest bass line Ponyville had ever heard.  Every pony in her house came.  They reared up and neighed.  Every subwoofer was stretched to the limit of blowing.
    That was the high point of the evening.  Another hour and it was closing time.  There would have been a riot when the bar closed, but now the crowd was too mellow.  Scratch herself had seen to that.  She had been slowly lowering the crowd down from their earlier summit.  It was a kind of musical after glow.  The crowd slowly shuffled out.  They’d go home, maybe fix their own drinks, smoke a bowl, fuck, and then collapse into bed.
    As the last customer left, Scratched unplugged her equipment and stored it away.  She chatted with the audio tech.  She got a free drink from the bartender as he was cleaning up.  The manager gave her an envelope full of cash, and promises of more tomorrow night.
    She left out the back door.  There were six ponies hanging out in the alley behind the club; Rarity, Rose, Lyra, and their three dates.  They were all chatting and passing around a pipe.  They all warmly greeted Scratch as they saw her.  They told her they had the night of their lives.  None of them were exactly sure why they were still hanging out in the alleyway doing nothing.
    Scratch knew.  She had pulled their strings.  Their night was just getting started.  They’d soon all be heading back to her house.