Flutterrape: Hot Monkey Dock

>You are Anonymous, and boy do you hate this job.
>Normally, you’d work at Sweet Apple Acres, but they didn’t need you this time of year.
>Plus, Applejack said she only hired you, because no one else would when you first arrived; that wasn’t the case now.
>Twilight said she’d pay if she could use you to conduct some research.
>You gave this arrangement a try once, and left as soon as she told you to take your clothes off, slowly.
>The Cakes didn’t have the budget for another employee, but you felt that was because Pinkie alone ate about three share’s worth of merchandise.
>Rarity was only offering babysitting jobs; and though she’d pay you well, there weren’t enough bits in the world to convince you to watch those little monsters.
>You still had nightmares about their kitchen “remodeling”.
>And Yellow Quiet…
>Ugh, let’s just forget about that.
>The important part was, you found work.
>Right now, you were currently employed as a waiter for a pirate themed restaurant.
“Argh, hello,” you droned. “and welcome to The Hot Monkey Dock. I’ll be your waiter tonight.”
>You put on a glassy smile, notepad ready.
>Pip and his parents stared at you.
“Before you ask,” you added.  “I’m an ape; not a monkey.”
>They continued staring, expectantly.
>“Why aren’t ya talking like a pirate?” Pip asked with a frown.
>Ah right, how forgetful of you.
>You hated talking like a pirate, but it was required of all employees along with a mandatory pirate outfit — even the cook had to abide by these rules.
>Your outfit was made for a pony, so you looked more like a stripper pirate or one of those “sexy” halloween costumes.
>Your boss was eccentric to say the least.
>Well, okay, that was just a fancy way of saying she was an asshole.
>‘Cause she was.
“I’m not a pirate,” you said, trying to keep a cheerful tone. “what would you like to drink?”
>Pip turned to his parents. “I don’t like this place very much…”
>His parents nodded in agreement.
>Then they all trotted out of the restaurant.
>You whistled innocently, and looked around to see if *she* was watching.
>Your boss wasn’t yelling yet, good sign.
>That didn’t go too well, but it couldn’t get any worse than this.
>And just as you finished that thought, a new customer entered the establishment.
>She took a seat at the table nearest to you.
>It was Banana Hush.
>You suppressed a groan.
>Tonight was going to be a long night.
>Well, no use in delaying the inevitable.
>You walked on over to her, and tried to ignore the poorly concealed excitement in her eyes.
>Fluttershy waved at you, shyly. “Hi, do you come here often?”
>You said nothing and merely gave her a tired look.
>Her face lit up like a stoplight as she caught her fumble.
>“I mean, isn’t your pen- no!” she squeaked, anxiously biting her lip. “Isn’t this place… nice?”
>The place was a dump, and she knew it.
>It was like some eight year old’s pirate themed birthday party left out to rot.
>No cake, no party hats, no confetti.
>Though the dusky room was lit by candle, you couldn’t help but get the impression that everyone had left and turned out lights, leaving the haphazardly placed decorations to wallow in the darkness.
>To call them aged was an understatement, more like dead.
>Every little knickknack had huge cracks and holes in them.
>All the tinsel had long lost its luster; the prickly silver worms snaked every which way around the dust-caked rafters.
>The large parrot statue at the entrance was beyond well worn— like it was sanded down unevenly without rhyme or reason.
>His splintery tricorne was barren of paint, completely chipped off.
>Its wearer fared a little better, but his once bright rainbow of feathers was fading white; fading like the owner’s memory of him, neglected and forgotten, just as he was forgotten by the children who once dreamt of pirates.
>What was she even doing here?
>She wasn’t here for the dock; she was here for the cock.
“Go home.”
>The shy mare winced as if struck, but held her ground. “I’m a customer here.”
>She said something else under her breath, only you couldn’t decipher her mumbles.
>Fluttershy motioned you to come closer, so you cautiously leaned in.
>“I’m also here, because of a certain h-hot monkey.” She licked your cheek.
“Ack!” you recoiled.
>God damn it, you knew it was coming!
>You retreated and wiped your face.
>This was just going perfectly.
>What next?
>“Aaaargh, Anon, get yer flank in me office!” *Her* call echoed throughout the restaurant, rattling everything that was loose.
>Shit!
>You shot Fluttershy, who was trying to shrink into her seat, a dirty look.
>Looked like your boss wasn’t too happy.
>“Hurry up, ye scallywag,” her voice boomed. “or you’ll walk the plank!”
>You rolled your eyes as you apprehensively stepped into her office, if you could even call it that.
>It was just a desk in the far corner of the restaurant.
>There were no seats, so you had to stand in front of her desk.
“You wanted to see me?”
>Berry Punch nodded slowly, eyes bloodshot.
>Guess she was drunk, again.
>That wasn’t worth observing really; you’ve never seen her sober.
>Berry scrunched her face, but with not just any old scrunch.
>It was her patented “scrunch within a scrunch” scrunch.
“You wanted to see me… ‘captain’?” you asked with trepidation.
>Once more, she gave a small nod.
>“First ye make me lose me customers,” she grumbled. “‘cause ye claim not t’ be a pirate...”
>Ah shit, guess she did see that.
>“Then, yer rude to this new customer!” Berry took a long swig from a bottle she was somehow holding with her hooves.
“She’s crazy!” you protested. “you have to believe me-”
>“No! No excuses, scallywag!”
>Of course she wouldn’t take your side.
>Come to think of it, when has anyone ever done that?
“Alright, I’ll serve her,” you said, defeated.
>It wasn’t like there were any other waiters in this dump.
>Screw the pirate speak though.
>Berry Punch scowled, as if she had read your thoughts. "Silly lad, we don't speak like landlubbers here! Even if ye got the hot monkey part down, it don't mean ye can't speak like a pirate!"
“Come on, Berry,” you said. “ponies come here to eat food."
>Berry Punch scrunched up again, and let out a loud belch."*hic*! Aaaargh! That be mutiny! That’s Captain Berry to ye, Cabin Boy! ‘Sides, they don’t just come for t’ food; they also come for us swashbucklers!”
“Uuggghh,” you groaned, failing to hide your irritation.
>“Laddy, do ye want to keep yer job?" your boss asked, her voice dangerously low.
“Yes,” you sighed.
>“Well then!” she chirped. “ye either have t’ stop talkin’ like a landlubber…”
>Berry Punch wore a sultry grin as she sashayed away from her desk.
>She turned around, lifted her frizzy raspberry tail, and present-
>Oh god!
>She wiggled her plump fruity rump. “Or you can plunder me booty~."
You shuddered; talk like a pirate it was. “Aye aye, cap’n, I'll go serve those, uh, landlubbers…”
>You walked back over to Fluttershy.
>She was smiling at, as if nothing were wrong.
>You glanced over your shoulder.
>Berry Punch was watching.
>Deep breaths, deep breaths.
>You could tear into Fluttershy off your shift.
“Aaaargh,” you growled with as much enthusiasm as you could muster. “welcome t’ The Hot Monkey Dock! I’ll be yer, um, cap’n tonight.”
>Fluttershy bashfully brushed aside her mane, but her eyes betrayed her glee. “Oh, my.”
“What can I get ye lass?”
>“You’re a big stud of a pirate!” She flapped her wings excitably, nearly knocking over a coaster.
>You grabbed her in order to stop her from tipping over.
>Fluttershy faked a gasp. “A-are you going to ‘pillage my village’, mister?”
>That’s it, your patience had already dried up; you *needed* a way to tell her to fuck off.
“Fuck off,” you said.
>Can’t beat the classics.
>No sooner did Fluttershy hang her head than you heard someone clear their throat, loudly.
>Berry Punch was glaring daggers into your back.
>Shit.
“Fuck off, landlubber,” you added hastily, and glanced over at Berry.
>Your boss was smiling, but her face warped into a frown when she realized you just insulted a customer.
>Oops!
>You gently patted Fluttershy on the head.
>That perked her up real quick.
“Anythin’ ye want t’ drink little lassy?” you asked.
>Fluttershy smiled sweetly at you. “No, no thank you, I’m not thirsty.”
>The hell she wasn’t.
>“But... I am hungry for, um, y-you.”
“I’m not on te’ menu– aaaaargh.”
>She giggled as you groaned.
>“Weeelll, Mr.Pirate~,” she all but sang, clip-clopping her hooves on the table. “what would you recommend?”
“Nothin’,” you said truthfully. “‘tis all rubbish and fool’s gold.”
>You pointed to the other tables.
>“These onion rings taste like a fried boot!” An older stallion grimaced at the culinary nightmare served to him.
>“My meal IS a fried boot!” Someone from across the room called out.
>Another responded. “They burnt my shake!”
>Fluttershy pursed her lips. “Goodness! This place doesn’t seem very nice.”
>You couldn't help but nod in agreement.
>“Why would anypony come here?”
>You looked to your left; you looked to your right.
>Guess you could break character for a bit.
“Because the ‘Crab Special’ is the only thing worth having,” you whispered.
>Fluttershy flinched in surprised. “C-c-crabs? They serve crabs at The Hot Monkey Dock?”
“Well, you of all ponies shouldn’t be squeamish over meat,” you said. “but it’s not from real crabs anyway.”
>That was a huge letdown when you first found out.
>Fluttershy blinked, tilting her head. “What is it?”
“Some mashup of stuff shaped like a crab,” you said. “there’s some secret formula that makes the thing edible.”
>Fucking formula.
>There was some asshole who dropped by and tried to steal it every day.
>Berry Punch always caught onto his schemes, so he never won.
>It eerily reminded you of your own encounters with the yellow menace.
>“I’ll have the Crab Special,” Fluttershy decided.  “and maybe a side order of your, um, p-penis.”
“Go to he- Argh, go to Davy Jones’ Locker.”
>Close call.
>You weren’t sure if the locker counted as pirate talk in Equestria.
>Fluttershy looked confused, but then her expression turned hopeful?
>She squirmed about, flustered. “O-Oh my~, are we going to meet there, and explore the depths of my-”
“No!” You gritted your teeth.
>Deep breath; calm down.
>You wrote down her order of Crab Special.
“Thank ye lass, erm, Fluttershy,” you said. “I better get a good tip out of this.”
>Fluttershy slowly ran her hoof along the table, and whispered. “If you want a good tip, you’ll have to…”
>Fluttershy turned around, raising her flank; one bit was poking out of her moist cunt. “Dig up ‘buried treasure’, mister.”
>She winked at you— not with her eyes.
>You were already walking away, hoping that you could drown that memory in rum.
>Oh god, you were becoming your boss at this rate!
>You casted aside those troubling thoughts as you entered the greasy kitchen.
>It smelled like it’s never been cleaned before; mostly because it’s never been cleaned before.
>Berry Punch, and Cook, said it made things more thematic.
>There were mountains of uncleaned plates stacked up to the ceiling.
>They wobbled and clattered, looking as if they could tip over from the slightest breeze.
>As if on cue, a couple of plates from the highest pile plummeted to the ground, joining the rest of the scattered shards of glass and ceramic on the soggy floor.
>It was like some modern art piece.
>You couldn’t believe Berry once insisted you go barefoot as part of your uniform.
>See, this was what happened when you were too cheap to hire a dishwasher.
>Where did they even keep getting new, clean plates?
>Some part of you knew that the plates you were using were neither clean nor new, but the rest of you *really* didn’t want to think about that right now.
>Good thing there were no health inspectors in Equestria.
>…
>Actually no, that was a terrible thing.
“Cook, we’ve got another Crab Special.”
>Cook nodded, but then narrowed his eye at you; he wore an eyepatch.
>In Cook’s case it wasn’t a costume though, and you made sure to remember not to confuse it for one, touchy subject.
>“Mother of pearl, cabin boy!” He grunted, and spat into a pan of whatever it was he was frying. “yer talkin’ like some landlubber!”
“Look, Cook,” you snapped. “the ocean is a train ride away — we’re all ‘landlubbers’!”
>“Ye see?” he huffed. “yer yappin’ and whinin’ like one before me own eye!”
>This was pointless.
“Just get back to cooking.”
>You stormed out of the kitchen.
>The only thing moaning and groaning more than you tonight, were the rickety floorboards.
>They creaked, cracked, and squished as you made your way to a table.
>Wait, floorboards don’t squish, do they?
>Eeugh.
>Just ignore it, focus on the job... and staying in character.
>So you took more orders, served some “food” to customers, and tortured your vocal cords trying to sound piratey.
>Before you knew it, Yellow Quiet’s order was ready.
>Well, it wasn’t like she would’ve burst into flames in that time.
>All you had to do was let her make a pass at you, that was sure to fail, and it would be over before you knew it.
>You carried the Crab Special to her table, but she wasn’t there.
>Instead, she was flying and flapping around you.
“Aaarrgh, what are you…ye doing?”
>“I had to use the little filly’s room,” Fluttershy said, barely above a whisper.
>Her face lit up as she eyed your plate. “Is that for me? It’s wonderful Anon!”
>She smooshed her face into your chest, nuzzling it.
>You awkwardly shifted away from her, and motioned to the plate you were carrying.
>Fluttershy blinked innocently, and by that, you meant with ill intent when she noticed your vulnerable state.
>She darted behind you, and started nibbling on your ear.
“Stop!” You gasped.
>”I am your rival, if that’s fine with you,” she lowly mumbled, sticking her tongue in your lobe. “I am Pink Mane the pirate, mister.”
>Your adversary cooed and tried to give you eskimo kisses.
>Oh boy, now she was roleplaying, or something.
>If you heard one more poorly placed pirate pun, you were gonna lose it.
>“If you want to d-defeat me you have to impale me with your little privateer, Anon.” Fluttershy whispered, breathing into your ear.
“AAAAAH!” You dropped the plate.
>It shattered into pieces all over the floor.
>A roach scurried out of the ruined pile of fried junk.
>Ugh, guess Crab Special sometimes does come with a little meat.
>You were breathing heavily.
>It was time to tell her off!
“I suggest you get the-”
>Right, you exhaled for a long moment.
>You needed to calm down a bit; stay in character
“I mean walk the plank, wench!”
>Fluttershy retreated into her mane, and squeaked.
>“Anon!” a loud voice called. “I’ll throw ye overboard!”
>You jumped, startled.
>Berry Punch cantered over to the two of you.
>Gulp.
“Listen, she’s only here to seduce me!”
>“Belay that talk!” she growled. “Why’re ye treatin’ dis lass so poorly?”
>You just told her why!
“She’s a stalker,” you explained. “and keeps trying to force herself on me!”
>Berry Punch chuckled heartily, and put a reassuring hoof on Fluttershy’s withers. “Fret not, lass, me scurvy-brained lackey here will do whatever ye ask of him.”
>Fluttershy squee’d.
>What?!
>Also, could ponies even catch scurvy?
>“Am I right?” your boss turned to you.
>You wanted to protest, but you knew arguing would likely be fruitless.
>Still, that didn’t mean she had to push you around, right?
>You weren’t *that* expendable, were you?
>While you were debating whether to debate, Berry Punch decided for your by nudging you away from the table.
>She prodded you with her snout until you were both out of earshot.
“Look, Berry, I don’t think allowing her to order me around is such a good idea.”
>She pinned her ears; she was having none of it.
>“Boy, ‘f I hear any more mutiny from ye,” she growled. “Then ye can kiss yer sailor mouth, and flank, goodbye!”
“I figured, cap’n.”
>You grimaced, and start walking over to Fluttershy’s table.
>Your boss swatted you right on the ass with her tail, stopping you in your tracks. “One more thing.”
“Yes?” you sighed.
>Berry chugged some rum and sniffed. “Anon be not a good name for a pirate! Yer gettin’ a new title!”
>Well, you might as well pick one out.
“I know a good one,” you said. “how about Black Beard?”
>She blinked, rubbing a droopy eyelid. “Argh, that be soundin’ like a wimpy name!”
>Really?
“Davy Jones?”
>“Hahahah! Even worse!”
“Long John Silver, Jack Sparrow, Captain Hook, Black Bart?”
>Berry Punch broke out into a fit of laughter.
>She pounded the creaky floor with her forehoof. “Hah! What next? Ye gonna suggest renaming me restaurant?”
>Oooh…
>Shit.
>You were planning to suggest that in the near future.
>Seriously, every day you heard that “hot monkey” quip.
>Mares also kept trying to put bits down your pants.
>You weren’t sure if it was thanks to the restaurant’s name, or just ponies being...ponies.
“Actually, I was thinkin’ thee Salty Spitoon would be more suitable, savvy?”
>Berry Punch started tearing up in laughter.
>She fell onto her back, flailing her limbs about.
>Your boss was laughing so hard, in fact, that she couldn’t vocalize her giggling.
>She shook all over the floor like an epileptic dog.
>You drew closer to help her up, but she waved you off.
>“Aaaaahahah!” she shakily gasped for air.
>Five minutes passed.
>Berry settled down after a few raspy breaths.
>You opened your mouth to speak.
>“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”
>For fuck’s sake.
>So many tears streamed down her face that she appeared to be sobbing.
>“AHAHAHA-ssssalt-HOOOHOOO-spppppfffahahahahahaha!”
>Ten more minutes passed.
>She sniffed, wiping away tears with her hooves.
>With a grunt, she wiggled her lips that were sore from grinning.
>You cleared your throat.
>Her straight face split back into a smile.
>“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
>She just kept going.
>Berry was hiccuping uncontrollably now.
>Twenty damn minutes later...
>“Hoooooooooooooo.”
>Berry coughed then hocked a loogie onto the floor.
>She snorted before turning her attention back to you. “Nah, that name be ghastly.”
>You facepalmed.
>If she nearly keeled over for that, you’d hate to see how she’d react if you suggested “Baratie”.
>Not that this place deserved that name.
 “Okay,” you said tiredly. “what, erm, be a better name for me cap’n?”
>She stood up, smiling proudly. “Spanker the Monkey!”
>You gave her a shit eating grin.
>Bear with it, you needed the bits.
>But that didn’t stop you from flipping her the bird.
>Berry raised her brow, pointing her hoof at your middle finger. “What’re ye’ doin’ with that Spanker?”
“It’s a pirate salute in my world,” you told her.
>Berry Punch belched and smiled lazily. “That be sweet of ye lad~.”
>She gave you a sultry look, which you did your best to ignore; just keep walking.
>Hopefully, you could get through this without losing it for good.
>Hopefully.

>Luckily, Fluttershy didn’t order you to fuck, not that she could.
>Instead, she arranged a sort of pseudo-date.
>You were seated beside each other as you watched the show on stage.
>The Hot Monkey Dock had a small, dingy stage where anyone was allowed to perform.
>It went about as well as one would expect.
>Aside from a few regulars, it was usually a chaotic mess.
>Sometimes the regulars got rowdier than the randoms, but it seemed like Berry would let them get away with murder if it meant they kept coming back.
>Actually, there was this one incident that everyone agreed to never speak of again.
>Long story short, Trixie and Granny Smith were banned for life.
>Man, you know you’ve fucked up when got you banned from The Hot Monkey Dock of all places.
>The current performance was thankfully finishing up; some drunk stallion singing like Jimmy Buffett.
>Scratch that.
>It sounded like Jimmy Buffett getting fucked in the ass by Randy Newman.
>Imagine a guy jacked up on horse tranquilizers trying to yodel.
>Yeah, like that.
>As the “music” accompanied your not-date, you looked down at Fluttershy, who was snuggled into your side.
>She tenderly stared back up at you, the candlelight glowing around her small, shadowed frame.
“I’m not having sex with you.”
>A chill went up your spine, as you felt Berry’s eyes boring holes into you.
“Shiver me timbers,” you groused. “I don’t want t’sleep with ye.”
>“But Anon, I want to be your ship as you sail through the sea called ‘life’.” Fluttershy pouted and held you tighter.
>What?
>Her warm, yellow feathers ticklishly trailed up your sides, wrapping around your waist.
>You had to admit it was kind of nice; the place always felt too chilly in this skimpy outfit.
>She grew quieter, whispering. “A-and a good captain always goes ‘down with his ship’.”
>You didn’t even dignify that with an answer.
>This was torture.
>A soft and cuddly form of torture, but torture nonetheless.
>You slapped away the silky tail slithering along your thighs.
>“Eep!” Fluttershy flinched, but kept going anyway.
>She quickly recovered from her fright, her gaze growing half-lidded.
>For how quickly she wilted at being spurned, the mare just couldn’t be deterred.
>You honestly didn’t know how she did it.
>“If you want you can ‘swab my poop deck’,” she offered, in an awkward “seductive” tone.
>She pulled away from you, fumbling about as she attempted to straddle you.
>It was pretty painful to watch.
>So painful, in fact, that you had to resist the urge to help her.
>Forget what you said earlier– *this* was torture!
>How could someone, even a little horse thing, be this uncoordinated?
>You were so lost in your thoughts, that you didn’t notice she was already on your lap, clumsily rubbing her fat rump all over it.
>God damn it!
“A poop deck has nothing to do with your pooper!” you whispered to her.
>Fluttershy pondered that for a moment, tapping her chin. “Ummm, but it is the part of the ship farthest to the back…”
>You weren’t in the mood to debate this.
“Forget it,” you hissed. “I’m not having sex with you!”
>Berry Punch walked past your table.
>She must’ve had a sixth fucking sense, or good ears.
“I mean, argh, I not have a need for such a ship.”
>Berry Punch looked satisfied but couldn’t help but add. “Ev’rypony ships the two o’ ye though.”
>Fucking Berry Punch.
>A few minutes passed, and a new performer took the stage.
>It was some mare who kept trying to tune her guitar.
>She was a regular, so you knew exactly how this would go.
>The tuning always, without exception, took about a third of the entire performance.
>You wished she would just tune the guitar ahead of time.
>It didn’t help that she only used her hooves to tune it, and to play...
>Fluttershy grew bored enough to start bothering you even more.
>You even had a close call when she tried, and nearly succeeded, in stealing a kiss.
>Fluttershy needed another distraction, and fast.
>It was starting to get to you, more than usual that is.
>You pushed away a stray wing for the hundredth time that night, your assailant wiggling her feather tips against your hand in an attempt to tickle you.
>Her tail sneakily invaded your crotch to cop a feel.
“Ye should try some rum, Fluttershy,” you suggested.
>Fluttershy bit her. “I don’t know, I’m not much of a drinker…”
>Well, you hated to use this, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
>You gave her your best pleading expression; she wasn’t the only one who could pull out the old puppy dog eyes.
>Only worked on her though.
>“Oh, alright.” Fluttershy smiled a bit sheepishly.
>With a grin, you poured her some rum.
>She brushed her mane back and took a few small sips from her glass.
>You were hoping she’d be drunk by the second glass; turned out those few sips were all she needed.
>Just one problem...
>Fluttershy forced her lips onto yours.
>Her tongue ran across your mouth, poking and prodding for an entrance.
>She nibbled on your bottom lip, tugging lightly as if to pry your mouth open.
You turned your head and broke contact. “Blimey! Are ye mad?!”
>...A drunk Fluttershy was even more Fluttershy than a sober one.
>Good going, genius.
>Fluttershy shook her head, giggling uncontrollably. “I’m *hic!* Cap… Cap’n Pink Mane, shexy!”
>She ran a hoof across your chest, circling it around your pecs. “Aye...hehe~ and I get what I want!”
>Yellow Quiet’s face was, once again, uncomfortably close to yours.
>Her ear flicked your forehead, and she breathed on you heavily.
>You pushed her away a bit, your nose twitching from the rum on her breath.
>She giggled coquettishly, unfazed by your rejections.
>As she put on her patented bedroom eyes, you realized they seemed to entice her even.
>“Join my crew, Anon…” She whispered huskily. “You can be my...”
>She bit her lip to stop her giggling, and probably to look seductive; it made her look constipated. “…First mate.”
“Yeeeeah, how about no?”
>Fluttershy broke out of her trance and started mumbling to herself.
>She frowned nervously as she took another sip of rum. “Y-you’re going to *mumblemumble* and we’ll even have a p-parrot!”
>You barely caught any of that.
>Fluttershy leaned back, inhaling deeply.
>She whistled loudly, the crisp sound breaking several of the hammered patrons out of their drunken stupor.
>Then silence– except for the guitar mare.
>You had to hand it to her, the girl hadn’t stopped tuning for even a moment.
>She just paid Flutter’s antics no mind.
>You opened your mouth to say something, but Fluttershy pressed the frog of her hoof to your lips, shushing you.
>BANG!
>The fuck was that?!
>Heads snapped to the window at the far end of the room.
>There was some kind of bird glued to the window.
>Was it dead?
>It wasn’t moving.
>By the way, the performer?
>Still tuning, undeterred.
>You couldn’t say the same.
>What was Fluttershy even hoping to accomplish here?
>Fortunately for her, a pony sitting nearest to the window opened it.
>The bird seemingly recovered in the blink of an eye.
>It dashed inside and flew over to Fluttershy, landing on her outstretched foreleg with a loud squawk.
>A parrot, of course.
>Fluttershy turned to you and fixed you with a determined glare.
>The parrot, which had been preening itself as if it hadn’t collided with hard glass, looked up to give you a stare of its own. “*squawk!* Try to escape! *squawk!* Try to escape!”
>“And I’ll turn on my r-r-rape!” she finished.
“We’re in public, idiot — I mean, dumbass — I mean, scurvy-brain.”
>She seemed too drunk to care.
>Her parrot flew up, and started roughly pecking you on the forehead.
>You guess it didn’t like you bad mouthing her.
>It moved onto biting your arms after you raised them to guard your face.
You scowled at Fluttershy. “Try to rape, and you’ll get outsmarted by an ape.”
>The parrot screeched as it was smacked away.
>Fluttershy gasped, her hooves drawn to her mouth as she watched it retreat from the table. “Anon! *burp* How could you? This is, um, mutiny?”
“I was ne’er a part o’ yer crew.”
>She pursed her lips, ears flattened. “Well that was very mean of you, Captain Anon…or, erm, Sp-spanker?”
“Don’t remind me, lass,” you said. “Cap’n Anon‘ll do.”
>The parrot was now above the performer pony, encircling her.
>The mare in question had *finally* finished tuning.
>She was strumming away on her guitar in a spastic manner.
>The parrot promptly shat on her head.
>It was like someone dropped a bucket full of white paint on the poor pony.
>White paint that was steamy, had bits of brown, and smelled nasty.
>Because it was bird shit.
>“Aaaaaaaaagh!”she shrieked.
>But no one seemed to care.
>Not even as she galloped away with tears in her eyes.
>Fluttershy looked extremely guilty. “*Oh no*, it’s all my fault.”
>Were you feeling a bit bad for her?
>What was wrong with you?
>It’s not like she literally got shit on.
“How about I go an’ perform?” you ventured with a shrug.
>It was definitely the rum talking; you had been drinking it all night.
>Fluttershy bounced in place happily. “How wonderful! Of course!”
>With a nod, you approached the stage.
>You knew a song that should work.
>Once you were on stage there are a few wolf-whistles and cat calls.
>There were even some requests to take off your pirate clothes.
>What the hell was wrong with these ponies?
“Ahoy, ahoy everyone I be here te sing ye a song.”
>You cleared your throat.
>This would fit perfectly.
>You started tapping your foot.
“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We pillage plunder, we rifle and loot.
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.
We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot.
Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.”
>You smiled, but the crowd looked confused.
>Several of the audience members turned to each other.
>Were they in awe?
“Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.
We extort and pilfer, we filch and sack…”
>Maybe they were just unfamiliar with this.
“Drink up me 'earties, yo ho.
Maraud and embezzle and even…”
>Someone in the back coughed.
>No one was impressed.
>No one wanted to sing along.
…highjack.
Drink up me 'earties, yo… ho.”
>You finished the song, red-faced, and hoping for some pity applause.
>A loud chirping noise echoed throughout the interior.
>You stomped your foot, the cricket crunching under your shoe.
>Ew…
>This place was so infested, it even had rats.
>Berry Punch brought a whole bunch into the restaurant to, and you paraphrase, “simulate the conditions of a pirate ship”.
>At least that’s what she told you.
>You stepped off the stage, wearing an awkward smile.
>With a sharp exhale, you threw yourself back into the seat beside Fluttershy.
>“That was…nice.”
“It be quite awful, no need to lie.”
>Her attempts to reassure you went unheeded, as your attention was drawn back to the stage.
>Another pony had already taken your place.
>It was Pinkie Pie, and she wearing some type of fake snout.
>When did she get here, and what was she going to do?
>She began to hop around, her poofy tail flopping about.
>“First you jiggle your tail! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>“Then you wriggle your snout! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>“Then you wiggle your rump! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>“Then shout it out! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>Everyone was making oinking sounds, singing along.
>They loved it, but you thought it quite annoying.
>Hopefully it was over.
>But no, things could never be that simple.
>She performed that same exact verse.
>For THIRTY MINUTES.
>It was like nails on a chalkboard
>FINALLY, she finished.
>Pinkie bowed, as the audience stomped their hooves in applause.
>The crowd demanded an encore.
>“Okey Dokey Lokey!” Pinkie Pie giggled.
>She did a little spin and went back to hopping around.
>“First you jiggle your tail! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>“Then you wriggle your snout! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>All the ponies were dancing and bobbing their heads.
>“Then you wiggle your rump! Oink oink oink ♪!”
>Even Fluttershy was bobbing her head.
>On your crotch.
>Wait what?!
>“Thar she blows!” Berry Punch called out.
>You snapped your head downwards.
>Fluttershy had zipped open yours trousers, and was now licking your boxers.
>She was attempting to get it off, nuzzling your crotch as she did so.
>“Then shout it out! Oink oink oink ♪!”
“FUCKING STOP THAT!”
>You violently shoved Fluttershy away from you.
>She squealed and whimpered.
>The room grew deathly silent, all eyes were fixed on you.
>Pinkie Pie thought your anger was directed at her.
>The poor mare dejectedly cantered off stage, head hung low.
>Berry Punch stomped over to you.
>Ah shit.
>“Spanker! Ye bilge-sucker! What be te’ meanin’ of this?!”
>You pointed to your crotch.
>“Ho ho! So lass, ye be interested in me cabin boy?”
>Fluttershy hid behind her mane, mumbling out a “yes”
>”It’s gonna cost ye.”
>Her eyes widened, ears perked and alert. “Oh! Um, I’ll give you whatever you want, miss!”
>What the fuck?
You crossed your arms, waving them back and forth. “Whoa! Time-out! I am not a whore!”
>“But yer a cabin boy.” Berry Punch winked, and chuckled.
“Okay, so?”
>Your boss grinned. “In te’ old days colts were only brought along… fer pleasure.”
>She suggestively rolled her tongue along her snout and lips.
>Really?
>Fluttershy lightly slapped your bottom.
>God damn it!
“So I’m a fucking wench?” you asked, incredulous.
>“Exactly! Why else would I have ye wear such small shorts!”
>You inspected your outfit; these were super-short shorts.
>Your vest was also one size too small, and you wore no shirt.
>Oh.
>You just thought they didn’t have any clothes that fit you.
>Now you just felt silly, but that explained a lot.
>Especially all the mares trying to “tip” you; fucking role reversal society.
“Okay,” you barked. “but I’m not having sex with Flutterbutt!”
>“Yer job depends on it!”
“NO! FUCK THIS, I QUIT!”
>You spat on Fluttershy and Berry Punch and stormed out of there, not once looking back.

>You were taking a nice long shower.
>One of several since that fateful night.
>It had been a couple days since you quit working at The Hot Monkey Dock.
>Luckily, you were able to land a new job.
>You just hoped your lucky streak would continue, and it wouldn’t suck as much as your last one.
>Ugh.
>Though…
>You were going to miss the pirate stuff, just a bit.
>It held a certain charm, and though you hated being forced to act in-character all the time, was a bit fun acting like a pirate at times — when you felt like it that is.
>Lathering up your hands, you scrubbed along your arms and shoulders.
>You began to hum a familiar tune, and couldn’t help but crack a smile as you did so.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s17XDrKuqc4
>While you were singing He's a Pirate, out of tune, something zipped past you, embedding itself on the tile walls.
>It was a ninja star!
>No wait, it was just a condom.
>You threw back your shower curtain in the knick of time, as Fluttershy lunged at you.
>She was wearing some kind of ninja outfit.
“Aaaaargh!” you growled, sidestepping her tackle. “you not be screwin’ me this time Flutters!”
>Did you just talk like a pirate?
>Ah screw it.
>You went back to humming Hans Zimmer's score, as you blocked and shoved away her attempts to pin you down.
>With her mouth, she unwrapped the condom on the wall and dived at your cock.
>You dodged once more, cockslapping her face.
>“Eep!”
>She crumpled down onto the floor in defeat, shaking her yellow bottom at you. “You’ve defeated me, mister — time to ravish me.”
“No!” you shouted. “What are you even doing here?! Why are you wearing that outfit?!”
>With a whimper, she righted herself sheepishly. “Um, I got a new job at this restaurant.”
>“It’s a requirement for all…,” she trailed off, mumbling. “All employees?”
>She smiled weakly.
>…
“What’s this place called?” you asked.
>“The, um…Crouching Wolf, Hidden Duck?”
>No…
>NO.
>She excitably fluttered her wings in place. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Anon.”
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
>FUCKING.
>FLUTTERSHY.