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


918. 918

“You’re slacking off, Rising Star. Out here staring up at the clouds. There’s work to be done.” Scorch, in pony form, sat down beside Rising Star and made himself comfortable. “She’s fine, you know. She was injured, but she shrugged it off. She defeated the ants, brokered a mutual protection pact with some dragons, and right now, she is slowly drifting home with one engine out, because it busted. She’s having the time of her life though.”

Ears perking, Rising Star turned and looked at Scorch. He blinked a few times, then turned his head and resumed his vigil, watching the southern skies. After a moment passed, his ears drooped a bit, relaxing and going into a neutral position, and he began to paw the grass with one cloven front hoof.

“She means a lot to me,” Rising Star said in a low voice. “I was just talking to my dad about it last night. About what it means to love somepony in that all consuming, special way. It’s difficult for me… I still have a hard time showing her that I love her.”

“You’re a colt still, really. It’s normal to want to try and screw anything that walks. Give it time, you’ll mellow out a bit and things will get a lot easier for the both of you. It’s normal to desire her though, and you shouldn’t feel ashamed or guilty about it.”

“How did you know?” Rising Star asked. “About the guilt I mean… sometimes, sometimes I just go to hug her or play with her and things happen and she freaks out and I just get so angry with myself… and so guilty.”

Scorch shrugged. “I’m older than dirt. I’m bound to know.” Scorch, in the form of an earth pony, reached over and prodded Rising Star. “See, the thing is, she loves you. You play with her, and you wrestle, and you have a natural response to being so close to somepony that you find so pretty. It’s important to keep one thing in mind though.”

“And that is?” Rising Star asked.

Smiling, Scorch replied, “She keeps coming back to play with you, knowing full well of the consequences of doing so. She trusts you. Let’s be brutally honest here… if you wanted to have your way with her, you could, and she would probably let you. It’d be awkward, feel good and gross at the same time, and there would be some crying afterwards. I’m sure she’d have her reasons for letting you have a go at her. Obligation, her own guilt, the need to please her husband, there are plenty of reasons that could be come up with.”

Rising Star’s ears sagged down a little further and he stared down at the grass. Clover blossoms and dandelions were everywhere. He looked down at his own cloven hooves and twitched his long, corded tail. His brain felt full. He stared back up at the sky and didn’t look at Scorch. “I have dreams about her. Really vivid dreams. I worry sometimes that the only way I can seem to show love or affection is through shagging.”

“Still having some trouble on the homefront with making your wives happy off of the old mattress?” Scorch asked as he leaned in closer to Rising Star.

“I’m trying really hard and things are getting better… we talk now and spend time together, but it’s so damn hard.” A scowl caused Rising Star’s face to wrinkle and his brows crinkled. “Being the way I am doesn’t help, and all the stuff that goes on up in my head because of everything that’s happened. I don’t know how to deal with being me sometimes.”

“I could fix that,” Scorch said in a low voice, “just a little touch on the nose with my finger. You could be a normal pony again. Of course, we’d have to discuss price. You know how it is.”

“I don’t want to be a normal pony again.” Rising Star’s voice sounded defeated. “Everything I am, everything I do, it is because of what I am. Like it or not, I am what I am. I just get overwhelmed by it.”

“And so right now, you’re thinking about Ripple, and welcoming her home, and trying to find some way to express how much you love her, miss her, and are glad to have her back, and somehow doing so without popping a raging boner?”


“You got it rough, kid. Real rough.”

“Thanks Scorch, thanks a lot.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“I know.”

“We fey, we’re jerks.”

“Hey, kid, you keep that up and you’ll be slapped. Right in the kisser. I mean it.”

Turning his head, Rising Star looked over at Scorch and grinned, revealing sharp, pointy teeth. “I have no plans to go back to work today. I just… don’t… want to.” Rising Star thought about how his work kept his mind occupied and kept him from thinking about certain things that he liked to avoid. Today, his thoughts were consumed by Ripple. He wasn’t thinking much about himself, or the Shetlands, or the wolves, or all of the dreadful thoughts in the back of his mind.

“We could go on an adventure,” Scorch said to Rising Star. “I know where a dusty old forgotten tomb is located. There’s a pyro-lich hiding down in there and she has a great spellbook filled with a bunch of powerful pyromancy spells.”

“What?” Rising Star blinked a few times as he tried to take this information in. “What? How do you know about this? A lich? She’s just hiding out? How come you know about this?”

Scorch shrugged. “You could say that she was an old flame of mine. I might have sorta kinda sealed her into her tomb. But for the longest time, I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. She was a fantastic lay, I mean a real hottie in bed. It hit that every chance I got and damn, it was good. I just wanted to shag, but she wanted power and immortality and the chance to become a goddess. She was as dumb as a doorknob but she could do amazing things with her tongue.” Scorch paused and with a poof, he became a flaming goat.

“So you want me to go on an adventure with you and kill your former lover?” Rising Star blinked in astonishment. “What in Tartarus is wrong with you? Why am I friends with you again? Why am I your student?”

“Because, I am one of the few beings that understand you and I am your teacher. Right now, you are getting a lesson in how not to live. Pay attention, you big dick thinking dummy.” Scorch let out a baa-aa-ing sound, lowered his head, and began eating the grass.

“I don’t understand.” Rising Star shook his head and watched his mentor nibble some clover. “Sometimes, I just don’t get you. You are beyond my understanding.”

Scorch’s only reply was a bleating sound. Confused, not understanding the lesson that had just taken place, Rising Star resumed his vigil and kept an eye on the southern skies, hoping to see the return of somepony he loved.



Things had not gone as planned. The plan had not survived contact with the enemy. The adorable, adorable, fuzzy wuzzy, cutesie wootsie enemy. Derpy, sitting in the middle of the nursery, tried to figure out just what went wrong. She looked at Cadance and her eyes narrowed. Cadance was responsible for this somehow, Derpy just knew it. Her maternal intuition and her gut feeling for finding the source of trouble made it very clear that somehow, Cadance was at fault.

Too many foals. Just too many foals. Too many little ones. And worst of all, Derpy found that she wouldn’t mind having a few more. Oh, maybe not right away, but these foals would grow up and be independent and wouldn’t need her anymore and then Derpy knew that she would be sad. The only way to avoid sadness was to have more foals to fill the void—at least, that was the idea that worked in theory. In practice, it was recipe for disaster.

“Berry Pinch is changed,” Lyra said as she set the foal down on the blanket. Poor Lyra looked tired. Her eyes were bloodshot and her ears drooped. As Lyra stood looking over the mob of foals, little Barley let out a very wet sounding and wooshy fart, which left a bulge in his diaper. “Little Barley, I just changed you! Why!”

Unconcerned with Lyra’s pain, wee little Barley blew a magnificent snot bubble out of his left nostril and giggled as his tummy gurgled.

“He was changed about an hour ago,” Derpy said in a weary, worn down voice. “Dizzy was changed just after him. I bet Dizzy will need to be changed any minute now.” The grey mare looked upon her brood and despaired. “Lyra, this is one of those days.”

“It is.” Lyra nodded and then sat down. “Harper is having tummy troubles, the little ones all seem to have the squirts, is something going around?”

“Maybe.” Derpy shrugged. “But probably not. It’s just one of those days.”


The cry made Lyra’s ears stand up and she turned her head around as she stood back up. Harper now had the opposite problem of constipation. There were still adjustments being made to her medication. Lyra let out a tired, worn down, somewhat frustrated sigh.

“MAAAAAAAAAMA! Harpy didn’t make it!”

A wordless grumble escaped from Lyra’s lips. She reached up and began to rub her temple as she tried to gather whatever patience she had left. As she stood trying to collect herself, Dizzy grunted and let rip. A foul brownish green mess oozed from Dizzy’s diaper and a wretched miasma filled the air.

“Oh, this is bad,” Derpy said as she fanned her face with her wing. Derpy’s ears stood up as she heard hooves coming down the hallway and her muzzle contorted from the stench. This day just kept getting worse and worse.

“Ach, crivens! That’s rank!” Barley shouted from the front room. “I cannae breathe! I’m dyin’, I’m dyin’, tell Luna that I live nae more and she must go on without me!”

Eyes narrowing, Lyra stood there, not amused, and now having an understanding of what Bon Bon felt in her non-amused states. There was another flatulent squish, this time from Brandywine. It was a warning shot, a (mostly) dry fire, but the conditions were right for disaster. Lyra looked at Derpy and the two mares shared a moment of perfect understanding.

“Oh wow, that’s bad!”

Derpy turned and looked at Sparkler, who stood in the door. Sparkler, who was twitching all over, looked disgusted and her nose was crinkled. Derpy sighed and said nothing. She didn’t feel very maternal right now. While she loved Sparkler, she just couldn’t work up very much enthusiasm.

With a low roar, Sparkler stone shifted, becoming a living statue. The floorboards creaked beneath her hooves and Sparkler gagged. “Ugh, I can still smell it! How does a statue smell?”

A very tired grey pegasus watched as Sparkler took over and began to make things right. A very worn out Lyra stood watching as well, and the two mares exchanged a knowing glance with one another as Sparkler went to work.

Somepony was going to make a good mom.

“Ugh, what good is being an invulnerable stone behemoth if I can still smell?” Sparkler whined in a rough, gravel filled voice. “You little monsters are gross! Gross!”

Cadance, who up to this point, had said nothing, made her opinion known. “Stinky.”

“Ach, Harper is a wee Squirtie Gertie!” Barley’s thick lilt filled the house and Lyra continued in her unamused state. “Harpy needs a cork!”

“There’s just so many of them!” Sparkler cried as she peeled off little Barley’s diaper. “You know, I’m looking forward to Loch Skimmer being a mom.” She slung the soiled diaper into the diaper pail and it landed with a wet, squishy splat. “You know what the best part of moms are?”

“Do tell,” Lyra said, still not amused.

Turning her head, Sparkler waggled her eyebrows at Lyra. “Moms put out. The proof can be found running all over the floor. I think I understand how Daddy thinks. Something about moms is drop dead sexy.”

Blinking, Lyra groaned. “Sparkler, once you’re done—”

“Yeah, Lyra?”

“Get out. But only once you’re finished. Just go.” Lyra shook her head. “I need a nap.”

Sparkler giggled and lifted up both Dizzy and Barley. “I’m gonna take these little handsome fellas into the bathroom and give them a scrubbing. They’re poopy. Any advice? It’s everywhere.”

“Make sure you clean the scrubbing brush when you’re done, and disinfect it,” Derpy replied. “Also, the hose thingy, angle it down into the basin. Never spray it sideways or at an upwards angle. Just flip the foals over and keep the spray angled downwards at all times.”

Just as Sparkler vanished into the bathroom with Dizzy and little Barley, Brandywine exploded.






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