The Chase

Bucky Bitters struggles to escape the airborne affections of Derpy Hooves after a chance encounter caused them to bump noses together. His real mistake was trying to comfort the mare after the snoot-bump. Little does the poor stallion realise that their meeting was only the prologue to a journey that will change not only his life, but the lives around him forever.

This story is a sequel to The Catch


271. 271

“You know Mister Rich, I have recently fallen in love…”

Looking up from his menu, Filthy Rich was suddenly distracted from his worrisome decision of what to order. It wasn’t breakfast time, it wasn’t quite lunch time, it was that time of day just in between that always irked him and made him irritable. He looked at Ivory Scroll, the town’s mayor, painfully aware of the fact that his pulse quickened when he looked at her and her words lingered in his ears.

“Fallen in love, have you?” Filthy Rich gruffly asked, his gaze dropping back to his menu so he wouldn’t give himself away. She was just one mare of many that he had an interest in, and he couldn’t fathom why he was suddenly so flustered, or why the thought of ordering the food to go seemed so important.

“My job,” Ivory Scroll said, staring off at some non existent point on the distant horizon, her eyelids batting as she spoke. “For a time, I was actually starting to hate my job. Every day it was a grind. Every day, I had to cater to the whims of the Ponyville pony plutocracy. The democratic processes we pride ourselves upon in this town had ground to a halt. Our town hall meetings were going nowhere. The bureaucracy of this town had everything in a stranglehold. Every day was spent in meetings getting nothing accomplished.  I hated them so much. But recently, I’ve been able to meet with my ponies again. Talk to my constituents. Things are getting done now. I can have meetings with concerned townsponies and work gets accomplished. Funny, I resented Buckminster for what I believed to be interruption of our democratic processes, but I now believe it was a restoration of said democratic processes… He and Twilight gave us our right to self rule back and broke the backs of budget bearing despots and ended committee driven tyranny. I can do my job again and feel happy. My cutie mark has actually been tingling lately because I am so pleased that I can do my job again.” The mare took a deep breath and sighed, her eyes focusing on Filthy Rich. “And I get to have a marvelous mid morning brunch with you Mister Rich…” she breathed, allowing an alluring look to linger over Filthy Rich.

For a single hot second, Filthy Rich felt something that was awfully close to infatuation, and for several hot seconds, he entertained the idea of Ivory Scroll tying him to his own bed with his collection of neckties. That would be satisfying.

“So Mister Rich,” Ivory Scroll stated, her voice almost a question with the first three words. “What do you recommend for brunch?”

“Radishes,” Filthy Rich growled, daring to look the mayor in the eye.



“Gourds you say? How… quaint... Twilight,” Rarity said, puckering in her lower lip and sucking her cheeks in to make her muzzle look drawn. The fashionista flounced away from her friend and threw herself down upon a sofa in a fit of pique. “Giant gourds no less… this is the solution to the housing crisis, giant birdhouses? In a hideous dull brown-green?” she heaved, laying one well hooficured hoof upon her brow as her breathing began to increase dramatically.

“Yes,” Twilight snapped, watching with some small sense of irritation as her friend dialed up the drama-meter to almost unprecedented levels for this occasion. “Giant gourds that could be grown quickly, scooped free of seeds, dried out rapidly, and turned into a comfortable shelter that will allow ponies to survive the winter. Each domicile will have a door and a couple of windows. There won’t be any indoor plumbing I’m afraid, but that-”

“That’s dreadful!” Rarity wailed. “No indoor plumbing!”

Taking a deep breath, Twilight drew deep from her patience reserves. “Celestia wants this winter to be cold, far colder than usual. The land needs to be healed. She is going to have Buckminster work up-”

“You know, I’ve been meaning to speak with him about a few ideas of mine. I’m thinking a floor length cape, trimmed in ermine. Faux fur of course. Something to highlight his regal features. And I could make a fashion line fit for… fit for… fit for kings,” Rarity interrupted in a breathy voice full of inspiration, her barrel heaving as her words neared their finish.

There was a loud “THUNK!” when Twilight’s head hit the table. She raised her front right hoof a few inches, dropped it with a thud, raised it, dropped it, and then raising it once more, allowed it to drop for a final time, tapping out and admitting defeat, just like she had to do when her big brother best friend forever used to give her hoof noogies.

“Coco, darling sweet Coco, she says she finds him curiously handsome. Can you believe that?” Rarity inquired, still on the sofa and staring up at he ceiling, her nostrils flaring in frustration, completely oblivious to Twilight’s suffering. “For some reason, the fact that Coco finds him handsome irks me Twilight, whatsoever shall I do? I can’t have this feeling of dreadful annoyance lingering between friends, do you have any advice?”

“Perhaps one friend should listen to the other while they are talking, focusing and paying attention to what is being said,” Twilight suggested, trying to keep her teeth from grinding together.

“Oh, capital idea Twilight,” Rarity agreed. “Maybe when I take Coco to the spa later I can get her to talk about how handsome he is for around an hour or so and maybe then it will be out of her system and no longer a concern, so we can move on to more important things.”



The kitchen was full of hot mareflesh, not that Bucky was in a position to notice. He was barely even a quarter awake, a cup of coffee before him on the table, and his head hung over the cup so he could breathe in the fragrant steam. Scowling, he realised his coffee was still black. Reaching out with his magic, he grabbed the nearest available source of milk that was free roaming on the hoof, which just so happened to be Bon Bon. He tugged her over, positioned his coffee cup down between her hind legs, gave her a few quick well practiced tugs upon her marvelous teats, and then levitated his coffee back upon the table.

Bon Bon let out a slow hissing breath, her eyes rolled back up into her head, and when she inhaled, she shuddered. There was milking, and then there was milking, and Bon Bon suddenly felt delightfully dirty. She walked away from the table as she heard the clinking of a spoon stirring sugar into a coffee cup. “Hmph, I never even got a kiss,” she grumbled, grinning from ear to ear about Bucky’s lacto-lechery. “Ooof!”

Once again, she found herself tugged across the floor by magic, turned around, and then two lips pressed into hers. She resisted for a moment, on general principles, token resistance, this was after all, a kiss done after the fact, after she had complained, but it was too nice a kiss to pass up. She leaned into it, and for a moment, her lips parted as Bucky’s lips parted, and they breathed the same air, causing electric pitter pattery tingles to go coursing up and down her spine. She pulled away with an audible “smack!” sound, and then as an after thought, planted a quick peck on the good side of Bucky’s face.

“That was kind of a turn on,” Derpy said, smacking her own lips together a few times, her gaze darting from Bucky to Bon Bon, and lingering on both as she squeezed her bad eye shut. She leaned over the kitchen table and peered closely at Bucky, realising there was something different about him. “You have more silver hairs. I’m just noticing this morning for some reason. Where did all of these come from? I don’t remember seeing these before…”

Shrugging and giving a noncommittal grunt, Bucky said nothing but took a sip of his coffee.

“The silver in your sideburns is kinda sexy, a turn on by all accounts,” Berry grunted, hoisting up her own cup of coffee to have a sip. “The house is quiet. Too quiet. The foals are up to something.”

“Dinky, Piña, and Diamond Tiara were up till the wee hours of morning lighting their farts on fire,” Lyra said as she rubbed up against Bon Bon, causing an audible crackle of static electricity. “They’re still asleep the last I checked.”

“Do I even want to know how you know this?” Thistle asked.

“Sentinel told me earlier this morning,” Lyra replied. “Sentinel is growing up. I had to help him change his sheets this morning. Poor little fella looked so embarrassed. Barley told me that Sentinel came to him the first time this happened, but this morning, Barley and Rising Star were already gone with the dawn. So Sentinel came to me. I’m so happy he trusts me.”

“What happened?” Thistle asked, blinking and not understanding.

“My poor little colt suffered from a wet dream,” Lyra replied.

Suddenly, a stream of coffee gushed from Bucky’s lips, spewing all over the kitchen table and onto the floor. He set down his cup as he began to hack and cough. He struggled to breathe and Derpy began to pound him on the withers with one front hoof.

“I don’t think he suffered,” Berry mused. “The fact that it was wet indicated he had a good time.”

A terrible pained wheeze could be heard from Bucky after Berry had her say, and five mares all stopped and watched their husband with a growing feeling of alarm. Bucky coughed and sputtered, and the first sounds of heaving laughter could be heard escaping from his throat. Five tightly puckered sphincters relaxed slightly, and perked ears stood down.

A wad of paper towels descended upon the mess, wiping up the spittaked coffee from the table and the floor, Lyra’s horn flaring brightly as she worked.

“So Sentinel has been having those sorts of dreams. Well, he’s about that age. I suppose I shall have myself a talk with him,” Berry chuckled, her voice full of an almost teasing merriment. “When I do, I want backup. Bucky, I’ll need you there.”

“I’ll never forget the first time I caught Sparky doing the laundry. I thought she was being grown up and responsible, taking care of chores early in the morning, but then I saw her cheeks and the pleading way she looked at me, begging me not to say anything with her eyes. And I knew,” Derpy said, still rubbing Bucky’s back while she spoke.

“What happened?” Thistle questioned.

“Of course I said something. I’m her mother. I’m obligated to take every opportunity I get to embarrass her so that way when she’s a grown mare, we’ll have something meaningful to talk about over tea or coffee,” Derpy answered.

Drawing in a deep raspy breath, Bucky tried to restore his calm as he took another drink of coffee.

“So our little Sentinel is growing up… anypony notice the flustered look he has when he looks at Diamond Tiara?” Bon Bon asked.

“Yup,” Lyra replied. “He’s adorable. He’s looking without trying to look. He wants to be respectful of her body, but at the same time, he wants to look at everything there is to look at. He’s so stuffy and formal about everything. I like to watch him sniff after she passes by.”

“So what is our policy about dirty magazines?” Berry asked.

“Oh Sentinel would never look at those,” Derpy said dismissively.

“I’m not worried about Sentinel… too much anyways. Dinky and Piña on the other hoof, I could totally see them both looking at the pictures in a dirty magazine and snickering together like the horrible little imps that they are,” Berry explained, her words causing Bucky to chortle.

“Colts are still gross to both of them,” Derpy argued.

“But for how long?” Berry inquired.

“Forever, if I have my say,” Derpy deadpanned in reply. “Thunderlane was just telling me that Rumble’s mother, Flitter, found some dirty magazines under Rumble’s bed. Flitter didn’t take it well. She left the magazines under the bed where she found them, and then she cried for the most of the day Thunderlane said. He had to endure a cry-fest rutting to make her feel better.”

“I know how that is. Sometimes a mare needs a good cry while she is being railed. It gets the poison out,” Berry remarked. “No mother wants to admit her sweet innocent little colt is growing up and becoming something other than her sweet little innocent foal that she birthed,” she said in a shockingly gentle yet straightforward manner. “My mother said it made hugs awkward knowing that her colts were at an age when even a slight breeze left them turned on for hours. She had to love on them quickly and then run away before the consequences manifested. Eventually, she just gave up and grew distant.”

“Yeah,” Derpy agreed, her nostrils flaring as she began to sniffle a bit. “It was hard losing Sparky to growing up. I wasn’t ready,” she whimpered. “I’m not ready to give up my other foals just yet. I want more time. I need more time.”

“Do you think that Sentinel would really look at dirty magazines? I mean, we want to believe that he wouldn’t, I think we all want to believe that, but as stuffy as he is, he is bound to be curious and want to look,” Bon Bon said, her ears folded back against her skull as she watched Lyra moving jars of canned veggies into the pantry.

“I don’t want Sentinel to turn out like I did. I’d buy the magazines for him myself if I wasn’t worried about what all of you would do to me,” Bucky interjected, his words causing five pairs of eyes to focus upon him, glaring balefully. Bucky ignored them all and continued to drink his coffee.



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