Scootaloo's New Job by DCFTEF


                                            Scootaloo's New Job by DCFTEF

                                            (Anon / Scootaloo)

                                            M/f, hairbrush, otk, non-consensual


                                            (28/01/2014)


                                            https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/15905561/#q15950714


                                            ---


                                            >So about five months ago you adopted a filly.

                                            >Orange blank flank...a pegasus like you.

                                            >Parents are alive but they're losers.

                                            >Mother is drunk all the time.

                                            >Father is a disability cheat who uses his kid as a punching bag.

                                            >Dept. of Foal Services took her out of the home when she came to school with a black eye.

                                            >TL:DR; that's how Scootaloo came to be your legally adopted daughter.


                                            >Things have been okay...not perfect.

                                            >You adopted an emotionally disturbed foal, did you expect things to be all sunshine & rainbows?

                                            >At times she can be an angel; sweet, cooperative, eager to please.

                                            >Sometimes she can be an unholy terror.

                                            >At these times you TRY not to spank her, because of her past.

                                            >You want to show her that adults solve their problems without hitting.

                                            >The other parents in town think you're a fool;

                                            "That's crazy, Anon! She threw a lamp at you and all you do is sit her down in the corner!?"

                                            >or...

                                            "Seriously, Anon, if my filly came home 4 hours late I'd whup her little rump."

                                            >The common sentiment seems to be;

                                            "Wise up, Anon. Foals need a smack on the butt sometimes...a lot worse could happen if you don't."

                                            >You assure them that you're not 100% against spanking Scoots.

                                            >But you'd rather keep it as an absolute last resort.


                                            >She's good good friends, that's a plus.

                                            >Pals around with the youngest Apple Family kid, plus a little unicorn who lives in town.

                                            >They get in plenty of trouble, but they're good kids.

                                            >There they are now; you see them near the Sofa & Quills shop.

                                            >Go over to say hello;

                                            "Good afternoon, girls. Any luck finding your special talents today?"

                                            >Apple Bloom groans;

                                            "Not yet, but we got high hopes for roofin' inspectors."

                                            >Your eyebrows raise.

                                            "Ummm, how are you getting up on the roofs?"

                                            >Sweetie Belle blushes & answers;

                                            "We haven't quite figured that out yet."

                                            >Good thing Scootaloo can't fly yet.

                                            >Playing on rooftops is not something you'd approve of.

                                            >Wait a minute, where is Scootaloo?

                                            >She's not with them.

                                            "Eh, where is Scootaloo?"

                                            >The other two look at each other.

                                            >They don't know if they should tell you.

                                            >Use your stern, "Dad voice."

                                            "Girls, where is Scootaloo?"

                                            >Apple Bloom paws the ground with her hoof, but answers;

                                            "She ain't with us today. She had to work."

                                            >Sweetie tries to put a positive spin on it, but fails.

                                            "She has a job, Mr. Anon! Isn't that great?"

                                            >What kind of job could a 10 year old filly have?

                                            >And why don't you know about it?

                                            "Where is she working?"

                                            >Sweetie Belle seems less enthused about telling you.

                                            "At...at the Grown-Up clubhouse...where the pegasus stallions go."

                                            >Oh shit.

                                            >What Sweetie Belle means is the local pegasi mob hangout.

                                            >It's a seedy gambling parlour on the edge of town.

                                            >No place for a little filly, especially not your daughter.

                                            "Thank you, girls, you were right to tell me."

                                            >Apple Bloom steps forward.

                                            >She seems ashamed, but asks;

                                            "Mr. Anon, sir, if it's okay, could you ask her not to hang out there so much?

                                            "We ain't tryin' t'be jealous of her new friends, but that place is kinda scary."

                                            >Sweetie Belle adds;

                                            "We think some of her new friends may be bad ponies, but don't tell her we said that.

                                            "We just miss her, and wish she had more time to hang out with us."

                                            >This was obviously hard for them.

                                            >Ratting out a friend to her father.

                                            >But they did the right thing.

                                            "It'll be okay, girls. I'll talk to Scoots and get her sorted out."

                                            >They seem worried.

                                            "You ain't gonna punish her, are you? We'd fell plumb awful if we got her in trouble."

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "Don't worry, we're just going to talk. It's getting late, you fillies better hurry if you're gonna get home in time for dinner."

                                            >They say goodbye and scamper off.

                                            >You consider going straight to the gambling parlour.

                                            >Pulling Scootaloo out of there by her ear.

                                            >No, it's late, she's probably headed home already.

                                            >You'll confront her there.

                                            >You should have seen this coming.

                                            >Scootaloo envies her friends' big families.

                                            >Sweetie Belle has a mother, father, older sister & cousins.

                                            >Nopony even knows how big Apple Bloom's family is.

                                            >Scootaloo has none of that.

                                            >A drunk-ass biological mother and a biological father that beats her.

                                            >Even you have no family here in Ponyville.

                                            >Makes sense that she'd seek a bigger family.

                                            >But the friggin' PEGASI MAFIA?

                                            >Holy fuck, how did she get mixed up in that?

                                            >Good thing you found out early.

                                            >This has to stop.


                                            >Scoots arrives, running through the kitchen door, all 4 hooves sliding on the floor.

                                            "Record time!"

                                            >You scowl.

                                            "Record time from where?"

                                            >She cringes a bit, sensing the anger in your voice.

                                            "Umm, school?"

                                            >Scowling intensifies.

                                            "School ended hours ago."

                                            >She flashes a big, nervous grin.

                                            "Eh...okay, maybe it wasn't a record time then."

                                            >Okay, no more tap dancing around the issue.

                                            >She had a chance to confess.

                                            >You confront her about her new "job."

                                            "Scootaloo, have you been hanging around the neighborhood gambling parlour?"

                                            >She looks down, breaking eye contact.

                                            >Nervously shifts her weight from hoof to hoof.

                                            "You know that place is not appropriate for foals."

                                            >That draws a flash of anger.

                                            "I'm not a little baby! I have a JOB!"

                                            >Stay in control.

                                            "Doing what, Scoots?"

                                            >You kinda know already.

                                            >You've visited that place, before you had a foal.

                                            >She explains;

                                            "I get drinks for the guys, sweep the floor, run errands.

                                            "I get tips for what I do. And I learn too! I learn about our pegasi culture!"

                                            >That makes you a little angry.

                                            "Scootaloo, those ponies are mobsters. Doing crimes and beating ponies up is NOT our culture!"

                                            >She snorts with contempt.

                                            "They don't do those things! They talk, and drink cider and play games with cards & dice."

                                            >Yeah, mobster shit.

                                            "It's not a safe place for you. I don't want you hanging out there."

                                            >She gets really mad, fluttering her little wings.

                                            "YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHO TO BE FRIENDS WITH!"

                                            >Deep breath, keep your cool.

                                            "I am your father, and I absolutely can where criminals are involved."

                                            >She throws a tempter-tantrum for the record books.

                                            >But you stay calm and in control.

                                            >A 10 year old filly can not hang out with mobsters.

                                            >End of story.


                                            >Silly Anon, it's not the end of the story yet.

                                            >There's much more fail to come.

                                            >Scootaloo clams up...she won't listen or discuss it anymore.

                                            >You have to force her to sit down and eat dinner with you.

                                            >Complete silence. She hates you now.

                                            >Well, you knew what you were getting into.

                                            >Scootaloo stomps off to her room right after dinner.

                                            >Even a pie for dessert can't coax her out.

                                            >Well, fuck it.

                                            >Not gonna waste a perfectly good pie.


                                            >She still hates you next morning.

                                            >Fills up her saddlebag and leaves for school without a word.

                                            >Hopefully talking to her fellow Crusaders will calm Scootaloo down some.

                                            >She just needs time.

                                            >And you need patience.

                                            >You want to fix this rift between you right now, but anything you do will only make it worse.

                                            >It was right to forbid her from working for mobsters.

                                            >With time it'll work out.

                                            >Gotta go to work now.

                                            >Like many pegasi, you're a weather pony.

                                            >At least work calms you down.

                                            >Takes your mind off the Scootaloo situation.

                                            >Maybe you can get the local Weather Dept. supervisor to talk to her.

                                            >Scoots idolizes Rainbow Dash.

                                            >Kind of a surrogate big sister.

                                            >Maybe this afternoon you'll pick Scootaloo up from school and fly her up to the clouds.

                                            >The three of you can sit down and talk.

                                            >Yeah, that's a good plan.


                                            >At about 3pm you take a break.

                                            >There's nothing important going on.

                                            >Thunderlane & Flitter are flying cloud patrol...Dash is taking a nap.

                                            >Fly over to Ponyville School just as it's letting out.

                                            >Sit up on the roof and wait.

                                            >You'll swoop down and snatch her up as she appears.

                                            >Scootaloo loves that, even when she's in a bad mood.

                                            >Hopefully she'll be calmed down enough to enjoy it today.

                                            >You wait.

                                            >You see a few fillies that look like her but no Scoots yet.

                                            >Damned recolors.

                                            >You see her friends run down the lane...still no Scootaloo.

                                            >All the foals have left.

                                            >You fly down to ask Miss Cheerilee what's up.

                                            >Maybe Scootaloo got held after school for detention.

                                            >Sometimes she does dumb stuff when she starts the day in a bad mood.

                                            >The young teacher is just packing up her saddlebags to go home.

                                            "Oh, good afternoon, Mr. Anon. I hope Scootaloo is feeling better. Are you here to get her homework?"

                                            >Wait...what?

                                            >Cheerilee sees that you're confused.

                                            "You sent this note...Scootaloo is sick today and will be staying home."

                                            >Aww shit.

                                            "Wait? It's not from you, is is? I should have known...half the words are spelled wrong."

                                            >She thumps her head against the chalkboard.

                                            "Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

                                            >Now Cheerilee looks really worried.

                                            >Not only could she get in trouble at her job, there's a runaway student out there.

                                            "Mr. Anon, do you need me to help? I could organize a search party. Scootaloo and her friends have a club house out in the orchards...I could check there."

                                            >That won't be necessary.

                                            >You have a pretty good idea where she is.

                                            >You re-assure Cheerilee that everything is okay.

                                            "Scootaloo will be back in class on Monday, have a good weekend."


                                            >Okay, now you're in a tough spot.

                                            >Stomping into the gambling parlour to collect your daughter is your first instinct.

                                            >But that's the pegasi mob hangout.

                                            >These aren't big-time mafiosi like in Cloudsdale, but they're tough, mean ponies.

                                            >And you'll be outnumbered: Everypony against One.

                                            >But you have no choice.

                                            >You've got to go get her out of that place.

                                            >And that means walking straight into a den of angry mobsters.

                                            *groan*

                                            >Do other parents have to deal with shit like this?

                                            >There's the place.

                                            >A run down building with no signs.

                                            >Two tough looking bouncers outside the door.

                                            >Ponies go in there to drink & gamble.

                                            >Any race is welcome, but pegasi run the place.

                                            >Take a deep breath.

                                            >Nothing weird about a grown stallion walking into the place.

                                            >But when you find Scootaloo there might be trouble.

                                            >3, 2, 1...okay, let's go.


                                            >The bouncers give you a look-over, but let you in.

                                            >It's hot in here, and smells like weed.

                                            >You wish you had a few puffs of that now, to calm your nerves.

                                            >Seedy ponies look up from their dice games to size you up.

                                            >Don't wanna be here longer than necessary.

                                            >Luckily it doesn't take long to spot Scootaloo.

                                            >She's standing on a stool, wiping the bar down with a towel.

                                            >Use a calm, measured voice.

                                            >No need to make a big scene...one that might get your ass kicked.

                                            "Scootaloo..."

                                            >She nearly falls off the stool when she sees you.

                                            "Dad!?"

                                            >Take the rag out of her hoof.

                                            "Wait for me outside the door."

                                            >She looks at you, then at the bartender, eyes wide with fright.

                                            >He tells her;

                                            "Better listen to your Papa. Go ahead."

                                            >Looking dejected, worried & mad she climbs down.

                                            "Wait for me. I'll be out in a few minutes."

                                            >With a bratty snort she obeys, head hung low.

                                            >You turn to the bartender.

                                            "I want to talk to the boss."

                                            >He looks surprised.

                                            "Nah, this is not a big deal. The boss don't wanna talk to you."

                                            >Scowl at him...try to look as serious as you can.

                                            "It's my right."


                                            >The pegasi mob is heavy on tradition.

                                            >One important rule; any pegasus from the neighborhood can speak to the boss whenever they want.

                                            >Unicorns & Earthies can't ask that...it's a privilege for pegasi alone.

                                            >And you're exercising that right.

                                            >The bartender looks you over.

                                            "Wait right here."


                                            >Two big pegasi stallions come look you over.

                                            >Check your wings for hidden weapons.

                                            >They have daggers tucked away in their wing feathers.

                                            >But you're clean, so they take you to a back room.

                                            >No earth pony or unicorn customers here, only pegasi.

                                            >It's smoky in the back room.

                                            >Now you know where the weed smell was coming from.

                                            >Don't know what else they're on, so you're extremely careful.


                                            >The Boss is easy to spot.

                                            >He looks up from his card game.

                                            >He's the one with the biggest pile of winnings.

                                            >They're letting him cheat.

                                            >The Boss is a fat pony with a scar on his face.

                                            >You wonder if he can even fly, as big as he is.

                                            "Who's this?"

                                            >The bodyguard answers;

                                            "Just some schmuck from the neighborhood, Boss. Wants to talk to you."

                                            >The Boss doesn't look at you.

                                            "You search him? Is he clean?"

                                            "He's clean, Boss."

                                            >He finally looks at you.

                                            >One milky eye, a glazed over cataract.

                                            "So what do you want?"


                                            >Gotta be careful. Polite, but don't kiss his ass.

                                            >Whatever you do, don't get stabbed to death.

                                            "Boss Cement Shoes, I mean no disrespect, and I don't want to mess with your business.

                                            "My kid has been working here without my permission. I'd like that to stop."

                                            >He chuckles.

                                            "Everypony needs a job."

                                            >The other mobsters at the card table laugh.

                                            >You continue;

                                            "She's only 10. That's too young to be wrapped up in...what you ponies do."

                                            >They all stop playing & look at you.

                                            >The Boss speaks;

                                            "So you don't want her hangin' around here no more. What are you askin' me to do about it?"

                                            >Take a deep breath.

                                            >Now's the time to be tough.

                                            "I'm not asking anything. I'm telling you to send her away. You've got a big sign on the door that says 'No Ponies under 18', I expect you to enforce it."

                                            >An underling laughs.

                                            "There ain't no sign on the back door."

                                            >Boss Cement Shoes shuts him up with a cold glare.

                                            >Feeling brave you press the issue;

                                            "Like I said I don't want to mess with your business, but if I have to I'll go to Cloudsdale and talk to the Big Bosses. But I don't want that. Please just respect my rights as her father and keep Scootaloo out."

                                            >Well, that's all you have to say.

                                            >Will you be stabbed?

                                            >It's been a nice life.

                                            "I got a kid too. I understand."

                                            >You breathe a huge sigh of relief.

                                            >Maybe you won't be murdered today.

                                            "If I see her around here I'll run her off...but I ain't no foalsitter.

                                            "If she keeps comin' back that ain't my problem, understand?"

                                            >That's a good as you could hope for.

                                            "I'm satisfied with that. Thank you, Boss Cement Shoes."

                                            >He grunts.

                                            "Yeah. Now get the fuck outta here."


                                            >The bodyguards bring you to the door.

                                            >You really didn't need an escort, you're happy to leave.

                                            >Scootaloo is sitting outside where you told her.

                                            "How could you embarrass me like that!?"

                                            >You're not in the mood for her mouth.

                                            "Young filly, you've got a lot more to be worried about than a little embarrassment."

                                            >Gently clamp her ear in your mouth.

                                            >You take her home that way, never letting go.


                                            >She's still pretty surly when you arrive at home, but little hints of fear are creeping in.

                                            "Dad...what did you mean 'I've got more to be worried about'?"

                                            >A little tremor in her voice.

                                            >She probably suspects what's going to happen now.

                                            "Well, let's see. You forged a note and gave it to Miss Cheerilee."

                                            "Sorry."

                                            "You skipped school."

                                            "Sorry."

                                            "Then you blatantly disobeyed me and went back to that gambling club."

                                            >She just snorts this time but does not apologize.

                                            "Any one of those three is enough to get you into trouble. Scootaloo, I've resisted doing this for a long time but today I intend to tan your little rump."

                                            >Whoa! That got her attention.

                                            >Scootaloo looks up at you in horror.

                                            "Dad, no! That's not fair! You can't spank me just because you don't like my friends!"

                                            >You shake your head.

                                            "I do like your friends. Your REAL friends. Those other ponies are just crooks.

                                            "They'll get you mixed up in things you don't understand, and aren't ready for."

                                            >Her face twists up with anger.

                                            "Why do YOU get to decide what I'm ready for?"

                                            >Seriously, calmly, you lean down to her level and reply;

                                            "Because I'm your father."

                                            "Not my REAL father."

                                            >Shit just got serious.

                                            >Alright, that could have been pretty hurtful.

                                            >But you knew Scootaloo had issues when you adopted her.

                                            >Actually, it's her who speaks up first;

                                            "Dad...I'm sorry...I didn't mean...I mean...what I meant was..."

                                            >Tears welling up in her eyes.

                                            "I don't ever want to go back. You're a jillion times better father than my other dad."

                                            >You put your arm around her withers.

                                            >Hug her close. She calms down a bit. Crying fit averted.

                                            "Scoots, when I adopted you I made some promises, remember?

                                            "You would never be cold, never hungry, always safe. I promised I'd always protect you.

                                            "But in return you made some promises too.

                                            >She sniffles, knowing those promises spell doom for her poor rump.

                                            "You promised to obey me and respect my decisions, even when you don't like them.

                                            "We both knew the day would come when we would disagree, and we promised we'd work through that.

                                            "But right now I've gotta play the Dad card. There's nothing to argue about, you WILL listen to me and obey."

                                            >She seems to accept that.

                                            >But she's not happy about it.

                                            "But that means you're gonna s-spank me."

                                            >You nod.

                                            "Yes Scoots. You forged a note, skipped school and disobeyed me about the gambling parlour. You're lucky you're only getting one spanking."

                                            >A few tears run down her muzzle. She's obviously scared.

                                            "Please, Dad, I'm really sorry. I won't ever write a fake note again, and I'll never cut class! Can't I just be grounded?"

                                            >Oh, you will be.

                                            >But that's not what you focus on.

                                            "And what about the gambling parlour? Are you ever going back there?"

                                            >Again her face twists up with anger & frustration.

                                            "But Dad, when I hang out there I really feel like I'm part of something!"

                                            >You cut her off before she can push that issue.

                                            "Something you don't need to be part of! I'm sorry but that's final. I promised to protect you and that's what I'm doing, even if you don't understand yet.

                                            "If you want to learn more about our culture we can do that without consorting with criminals. We'll talk to other pegasi...we'll go to the Cloudsdale History Museum."

                                            >She whines in response;

                                            "But that's sooooo lame!"

                                            >You answer her with a stern snort.

                                            "Spankings are lame too...and starting tonight that's what you're going to get if I ever catch you at that place."


                                            >That ends the discussion.

                                            >There will be more time to talk later, but right now you have a naughty filly to deal with.

                                            "Up to your room...march."

                                            >Head hung low, tears in her eyes, Scootaloo obeys.

                                            >She drags her hooves on every stair, slowing as she nears the top.

                                            >You have to give her butt a sharp shove with your muzzle to get her over that last step.

                                            >She goes inside her messy bedroom and turns to face you.

                                            >One last chance to beg for a pardon.

                                            "Dad, pleeeaaasee! I'll listen to you...I'll obey. If you don't want me to go back to the gambling parlour I promise I won't. Just please, please, PLEASE don't spank me!"

                                            >It breaks your heart, but it's too late for that.

                                            "I'm glad to hear that Scootaloo, it means we won't have to do this again. But you're not being punished for next time. You're being punished for what you already did and it's too late to apologize your way out of that."


                                            >It's time. Making her wait any longer would be torture.

                                            >She tries to be brave when you grab her wrist to lead her to the bed.

                                            >Sniffling, sobbing, afraid of what's going to happen.

                                            >You sit down on her bed, pulling Scoots over your lap.

                                            >That's when she loses her nerve and starts to struggle.

                                            "Daddy, no, please don't, please don't!"

                                            >Your heart is breaking.

                                            >The last thing you do is reach over with your wing to pick up her hairbrush.

                                            >Oh shit, that leads to a panic attack.

                                            "Daddy, please not that! Please, just use your hoof! I promise it'll hurt enough!"

                                            >No Scootaloo, this is going to be an experience you're gonna remember.

                                            >It takes some effort to hold the struggling filly in position.

                                            >She's surprisingly strong for such a little pony.

                                            >There's no more reason to delay.

                                            "I'm very sorry we have to do this, Scootaloo. I hope you understand someday."

                                            >With that you deliver the first smack.


                                            >She squeals and tries to jump away from the pain, but you've got her pinned tight.

                                            >The hairbrush left a pink oval mark, visible even through her butt fur.

                                            >And she's got a lot more spanks to go.

                                            *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK* *SMACK*

                                            >You get the idea. Multiply that by a lot more smacks.

                                            >Poor Scootaloo is howling in pain, twisting & squirming on your lap.

                                            >She'd be begging for mercy, but she can't make words right now.

                                            >Occasionally you have to stop when she starts coughing.

                                            >But once she gets air back into her lungs you go right back to spanking.


                                            >The pillow beneath her face will need laundering.

                                            >It's already wet with tears, smeared with snot & drool.

                                            >At the other end her rump is turning pink all over.

                                            >Scootaloo is trembling all over, her butt darting back & forth as much as you'll allow, trying to escape that terrible hairbrush.

                                            >If any of the colts at school could see this they'd be getting one heck of a show.

                                            >There isn't a shred of modesty left in the bawling filly.

                                            >If it would spare her even one painful spank she'd put her bits on display in Ponyville Square for all to see.

                                            >But that's not an option.

                                            >She's just got to endure this.


                                            >The hairbrush leaves sizzling pink marks all over Scoots' hindquarters.

                                            >But you concentrate your efforts on the base of her rump, where it hurts the most.

                                            >This ain't no tea party...you mean business.

                                            >This unlucky filly isn't going to sit down without wincing for a few days.

                                            >You keep one eye on her clock.

                                            >A blue & gold wind-up alarm clock covered in Wonderbolt stickers.

                                            >You're about halfway through.

                                            >For poor, suffering Scootaloo it already feels like an eternity.

                                            >You feel awful for her, but quitting early would do her no favors.

                                            >This is gonna be a blistering she remembers when she's got foals of her own.


                                            >The orange filly gags a bit...you give her a pause to catch her breath.

                                            >She coughs, launching a big glob of phlegm onto her pillow.

                                            >Nopony ever said this was gonna be pretty.

                                            >You continue your work with the brush.

                                            >Scootaloo moans in agony, realizing it's not over yet.

                                            >She's struggling less now.

                                            >Not because she's accepted it, or suddenly has more control.

                                            >She's just exhausted from squirming & screaming her lungs out.

                                            >Poor kid...come on, you don't have much longer to go.


                                            >Time is a fickle thing.

                                            >When you're doing something fun it goes by so quickly.

                                            >But at times like this it drags on forever.

                                            >This must seem never-ending for Scootaloo.

                                            >She lays there across your lap, sobbing & bawling.

                                            >Too tired to do anything but jump & twitch every time the hairbrush spanks her bottom.

                                            >She'll be in for a rough night too.

                                            >Sleeping on her belly. Even her soft blanket will feel like sandpaper on that scorched rump.

                                            >It's bright red now. A few purple marks decorate the base of her rump where you've applied most of your effort.

                                            >They match her tail.

                                            "WHHHHAAHHHHHH! No more, PLEEEAASSSEEE, I'm SORRRRYYY!"

                                            >The clock says she has less than a minute to go.

                                            >Still an eternity to a filly in such agony.

                                            >You steel your nerves.

                                            >You're temped to stop now & gather the crying filly into your arms.

                                            >But you have a job to finish.

                                            >The last 30 seconds are the worst.

                                            >You double your efforts for a strong finish.

                                            >All Scoots can do is howl.

                                            >Her rear end is burning like the fires of Tartarus.

                                            >But when the second hand reaches 12 o'clock it's over.

                                            >You deliver the last spank.

                                            >She relaxes, but still lays there over your lap, sobbing.

                                            >So what now? You've never done this before.

                                            >You really don't know what comes next.

                                            >So you do what you've wanted to do since the very first spank.

                                            >You gently help Scoots off your lap and hug her.

                                            >She seems surprised and begins crying even harder.

                                            >Did you do something wrong?

                                            >But when you try to pull away she hangs on tight, burying her tear soaked face in your chest fur.

                                            >It's okay, just let it all out.


                                            >She calms down, but doesn't let go.

                                            >Neither of you say anything for at least 10 minutes.

                                            >Finally, without lifting her head she speaks

                                            "My other dad never let me do this after...you know.

                                            "He'd yell & scream, then lock me in my room without dinner.

                                            "One time he smashed my scooter against the wall."

                                            >You say nothing, just hold her tight.

                                            "He never gave me a hug afterwards...never."

                                            >She sniffles loudly and buries herself deeper in your arms.

                                            "You don't have to worry about that anymore.

                                            "Today you messed up, bad, but the price is payed so we can move on from here."

                                            >She looks up at you.

                                            "Really?"

                                            >You answer;

                                            "Well, you're grounded. Two weeks, but if you're good we can talk about parole after a week.

                                            "You're a tough filly; you can do the time."

                                            >She giggles a little at your prison joke.

                                            >You rock her back and forth for another 20 minutes.

                                            >Until she feels okay to stand on her own hooves.

                                            >You wipe her nose with your wingtip.

                                            >You wipe the wet spot on your chest fur too.

                                            >Tears & snot. Gross, but you're a dad now, it comes with the job.

                                            >At least by adopting you skipped the diaper & poop years.

                                            >So you really can't complain.

                                            >You do tease her a bit about the pillowcase she cried on.

                                            >That thing is gross; straight into the laundry basket it goes.

                                            "So, what do you want for dinner?"

                                            >Her face lights up.

                                            "I get to choose?"

                                            >You chuckle.

                                            "Well, after tonight something nice ought to happen."

                                            "Can I help you cook?"

                                            "Sure. Go wash your face & meet me in the kitchen."

                                            >All is well with the world again.

                                            >She actually seems happy.

                                            >That's a huge relief.

                                            >So that's it, right?

                                            >Not so fast, Anon...you've still got problems to deal with.

                                            >You've got a grounded filly and nopony to watch her...make sure she stays grounded.

                                            >Last night was a positive step but she hasn't earned back your trust yet.

                                            >You take a personal day off from work on Saturday.

                                            >But they really need you on Sunday.

                                            "Sorry Anon, I feel for ya, but I can't give you another day off. Big bird migration coming through."

                                            >You don't blame Rainbow Dash.

                                            >But she might be able to help in some other way.

                                            >She has lots of friends. Maybe one of them can foal-sit.

                                            >But she seems insulted by the question.

                                            "Oh, just because I'm young I automatically know lots of foal-sitters?"

                                            >No, that's not what I said, Dash.

                                            "You assume all my friends are poor and need the extra bits?"

                                            >Sheesh...why does she have to be so confrontational all the time.

                                            "I just asked if you knew anypony who could watch Scoots. I can't leave her alone."

                                            >Rainbow Dash thinks for a minute.

                                            "Hmm...I doubt Rarity or AJ could do it, they're both real busy.

                                            "Fluttershy is helping us with the bird migration, so she's out

                                            "And I still don't think trusting Pinkie with a living, breathing child is a good idea."

                                            >She's right. The Cakes are taking a pretty big leap of faith with Pinkie.

                                            "That leaves Twilight. She stays put in the library most of the day. Plus, the library is totally boring so it'll make a good punishment for your little criminal!"

                                            >Not a bad idea.

                                            >The two of you fly to the library, and Twilight Sparkle happily agrees.

                                            "That's a great idea!"

                                            >She claps her front hooves in excitement.

                                            "I can show Scootaloo how much fun reading can be!"

                                            >But Dash is taking things a bit too seriously.

                                            "No fun allowed! She messed up and is supposed to be grounded. Boring books only!"

                                            >You roll your eyes. Dash can be a bit loony sometimes.

                                            >You step in to put the brakes on the crazy train.

                                            "Whatever you want to read is fine, Twilight. Just make sure she doesn't leave."

                                            >Sunday morning:

                                            >You get up early, have breakfast and go drop off Scootaloo at the library.

                                            >Unfortunately Rainbow Dash is there too and she's in full crazy mode.

                                            >She has a pair of prison-guard sunglasses and a whistle around her neck.

                                            "Alrighty then, what do we have here? A naughty filly who doesn't listen to her dad? I've seen your kind...I WAS your kind so don't try to put anything over on me! You're on LOCKDOWN, sister, so I don't wanna hear about any shenanigans! Twilight here is the toughest screw this side of the San Palomino salt mines so you better straighten up or you'll have to answer to ME as well as your Dad!"

                                            >Mother of Celestia, what the fuck is wrong with her?

                                            >You have to step in again to lower the crazy level.

                                            "Scootaloo, remember what we talked about. Listen to Twilight and don't leave the library, understood?"

                                            >She nods. She's been really well behaved since her spanking.

                                            >You give Twi a few bits to pay for lunch delivery.

                                            >Giving Scootaloo the spanking of her life is one thing, but making her eat Twilight's cooking would be cruel & unusual punishment.

                                            >Rainbow "Shawshank" Dash objects immediately;

                                            "Take out food!? Heck no! This prisoner is supposed to be on bread & water! And brussels sprouts! Lots of brussels sprouts!"

                                            >Again, you interrupt her crazy rant;

                                            "Um, Dash, shouldn't we get to the rendezvous? That migration is due to arrive soon."

                                            >She blushes and whispers to you;

                                            "I'm only trying to help. Scoots is like a little sister to me. I just wanna make sure your punishment sinks in so she doesn't have to get it again."

                                            >That's nice. Also, you're batshit crazy.

                                            "I'm sure Twilight can handle it."

                                            >So you both fly off to meet Fluttershy and the others at the rendezvous point.

                                            >It's the biggest favor you could do Twilight & Scoots.

                                            >The bird migration goes off without a hitch, mostly thanks to Fluttershy's soft touch.

                                            >She leads them over Ponyville personally.

                                            >All that's left for you other pegasi is to keep clouds out of the way and usher stragglers back to the flock.

                                            >Easy work.


                                            >As the last few birds disappear over the Whitetail Woods an alarm goes up.

                                            >Ponies on the ground shouting for help.

                                            "FIRE! FIRE!"

                                            >This is a job for pegasi!

                                            >Rainbow Dash doesn't even have to give the command...you all break and start looking for rain clouds.

                                            >The Earth pony & Unicorn fire brigade is already rushing in.

                                            >But they can't put out a fire like rain clouds can.

                                            "Where's the fire?"

                                            >Fluttershy timidly answers;

                                            "Umm, at the gambling parlour...where the...um...not-very-nice ponies hang out."

                                            >Oh shit.

                                            >Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

                                            >That's where Scootaloo hangs out.

                                            >Panic grips your brain and you push your rain cloud as fast as you can.

                                            "Anon! Don't get too far ahead! We need to keep these clouds bunched for maximum effect!"

                                            >Rainbow Dash's command is correct & logical, but she doesn't have a daughter in danger.

                                            "Hurry up then! There's no time to waste!"


                                            >When you arrive the Earthies & Unicorns are already busting down doors, trying to rescue those inside.

                                            >But it's obvious...it's already too late for some.

                                            >It seems like maneuvering the rain clouds into position takes forever, but once it's done you and the other weather pegasi unleash a torrent.

                                            >The fire doesn't stand a chance...it's out in seconds.


                                            >As soon as it's out you glide down to the ground.

                                            >The Ponyville Volunteer Fire Brigade Chief is trying to hold the crowd back.

                                            >You know him well...he's Rarity & Sweetie Belle's father.

                                            >Rainbow Dash asks;

                                            "What happened? How did it start?"

                                            >He furrows his brow in contempt.

                                            "Looks like pegasi mafia bullshit. Somepony threw a glass bottle full of oil with a flaming rag through a window. The place wasn't up to fire code...it just exploded."

                                            >You are in a total panic.

                                            "Magnum, I gotta get in there! My daughter might be inside!"

                                            >He looks horrified. Scootaloo is one of his younger daughter's best friends.

                                            "Go...you two can go through! Nopony goes in alone."


                                            >Rainbow Dash hesitates.

                                            "Anon...there's dead ponies in there...b-burned alive. I c-can't go in there, I can't look!"

                                            >But you have to go in.

                                            "It's okay Dash, just stand by the door. If the roof caves in on me yell for help."

                                            >With that you plunge into the worst place you've ever been.

                                            >It's all black with soot, still steaming & dripping with water.

                                            >It's hard to breathe.

                                            >You were only in here a few days ago, but the room is unrecognizable.

                                            >Then you see the bodies.

                                            >Dead ponies, charred & bloated by the inferno.

                                            >It's horrible. You want to throw up.

                                            >But you have to search the corpses...praying that Scootaloo isn't one of them.

                                            >You have never been so terrified in your life.


                                            >A half hour later you emerge, filthy & coughing.

                                            >That was the most awful place you've ever seen...you know you'll have nightmares.

                                            >But you didn't find any dead foals.

                                            >That's not proof, you know.

                                            >She could be buried under debris, or other bodies.


                                            >You find Dash being comforted by Fluttershy.

                                            >Tears in her eyes, she asks the question, not sure if she wants an answer.

                                            "Did you find her...in there?"

                                            >You shake your head. No.

                                            >Royal Guards are already arriving to begin an investigation.

                                            "I've gotta go back in...search some more."

                                            >But Fluttershy interrupts you;

                                            "Anon, have you considered that Scootaloo might have actually obeyed you?

                                            "She may be back at the library, safe & sound."

                                            >You don't even answer her...you're off like a shot.

                                            >You crash through the door of the Library.

                                            >Twilight is in the main room, she nearly jumps out of her fur when you burst in.

                                            "Twilight, is Scootaloo still here?"

                                            >She looks puzzled.

                                            "Umm, sure, you told her to stay. Where else would she be?

                                            "She was upstairs in the research room when I saw her last. I just sent Spike out for Portobello burgers & hay fries. Wanna stay for lunch?"

                                            >Not right now.

                                            "She couldn't have gotten out?"

                                            >Twi is still confused.

                                            "Well, there is a big window but..."

                                            >You don't wait for her to finish. You fly upstairs as fast as you can.


                                            >There you find Scootaloo, reading a book.

                                            >The relief from a state of panic makes you dizzy.

                                            >Still filthy from the burnt building, you embrace her.

                                            "Dad...w-what's wrong? What happened to you?"

                                            >Twilight wants some answers too.

                                            >But you have to explain this to Scootaloo first.

                                            "Twilight, is there a place where we could have some privacy?"

                                            >That scares the crap out of Scoots.

                                            >She backs into a corner and covers her butt with her hooves.

                                            "Why do we need privacy? I didn't do anything wrong! I want to stay here where there are witnesses!"

                                            >You calm her down.

                                            "It's not like that, you're not in trouble. A terrible thing has happened."


                                            >Twilight offers you her bedroom loft.

                                            >There you explain to Scoots about the fire.

                                            >She cries piteously. Those ponies were criminals, but she considered them friends.

                                            >It's her first brush with death.

                                            >You hold her in your arms as she weeps.

                                            "They're all gone...it's such a horrible way to die."

                                            >Stroke her mane, try to comfort her.

                                            "I was so afraid that I'd lost you."

                                            >Then it hits home to her.

                                            >She shivers violently with fear.

                                            "I...I would have been in there. I would have b-b-burned alive."

                                            >She sits there in your arms for a long time, shaking & sobbing.

                                            >Now she understands why you didn't want her hanging around with mobsters.

                                            >You only wish the lesson didn't have to be so harsh.

                                            >But she's safe and that's what matters.


                                            >No pony was ever arrested for the fire that killed 12 pegasi.

                                            >Even the Royal Guards knew not to look too deeply into mafia business.

                                            >Boss Cement Shoes somehow escaped the fire.

                                            >In weeks he had his gambling business rebuilt.

                                            >But Scootaloo never went near that place again.

                                            >The punishment you'd given her was terrible, but she now understood that it had saved her life.

                                            >She never forgot that lesson as long as she lived.


                                            >It wasn't the last time you had to punish Scoots.

                                            >Spankings were rare, but they happened from time to time.

                                            >She certainly never enjoyed them, but at least she understood that Dad knew best and you always had her best interests at heart.

                                            >That week was one of the scariest & worst weeks in either of your lives.

                                            >It took days for the hairbrush marks to fade from Scootaloo's poor rump.

                                            >And the nightmares of that burned out building, full of corpses, stayed with you for years.

                                            >But somehow, all that bad stuff brought you closer.

                                            >You satisfied Scootaloo's desire for a bigger family by reconnecting with far off relatives.

                                            >Rainbow Dash became closer to her, like a real sister.

                                            >And all of you visited the Cloudsdale History Museum together many times, learning lots about genuine pegasi culture.


                                            >Somehow, the worst week of your lives made you into a real family.