“So, um, what should we do?” Featherweight asked as he instinctively pushed his plate away. Great, just great, I had to listen to Pipsqueak. Genius.

Sweetie Belle remained quiet, almost reserved, as she glanced around the restaurant. The couple in the corner were still acting a little lewd. The waiter went from table to table, making polite chit-chat and checking on his tip-donators. Some of the ponies got up and left, pointedly leaving piles of change on their paid bills.

The unicorn leaned forward, moving her hoof as if to tell him to do the same. Frowning, Featherweight obeyed, ears perking towards the filly. She whispered, “Um, maybe we should just leave?”

Just leave!? Featherweight pushed away from the table, staring at the white and pink unicorn with new --and not to mention, wide-- eyes. She wants to just get up, and leave? But it’s a crime! What if we get caught? Oh, Goddess, we’ll both be banned to the moon. Then I’ll have to spend the rest of my life, on a rock, with a girl that isn’t Scootaloo. He shuddered, and yet, couldn’t find a solution.

Just then, Sweetie Belle raised her arm, and signaled the waiter over. The pegasus’ breath cut, his chest constricting as the tall, dark serving-pony arrived at the edge of their table. “Yes, young Miss, is there anything I could do for you?” he asked while glancing at the two empty seats.

“Yes, could we have a souffle and two banana splits please?” she asked calmly, beaming up at him sweetly.

The waiter blinked. “Um, of course I can get that for you Miss. I must warn you, it might take a little while, and it might be--”

Sweetie Belle interrupted him, “If you make it a little faster, we’ll tip you a little extra.” From somewhere --Featherweight never saw where-- she pulled out two one-bit coins and set them on the edge of the table. She winked at him.

The waiter swiped his hoof forward, surprising both of them as the cash disappeared. “I will be right back,” he said before giving them both a quick bow and departing.

“What the heck was that all about?” Featherweight huffed.

Sweetie Belle glared at him, a tiny, inoffensive thing that did nothing to intimidate. “We can’t run away from here if he’s staring right at us. C’mon, we need to go!” She climbed onto her seat, nonchalantly sliding towards the far end of the chair before peeking over the edge of the balcony. She shook her head towards the ground below.

She’s crazy. Outright crazy, completely nuts. That’s a three meter drop. I could make it but--

Sweetie Belle looked at him and smirked. “Are you coming?”

Before Featherweight could do anything, the filly grabbed the edge with two hooves and swung herself over the guardrail, her pink-and-purple mane fluttering before Featherweight’s eyes as she dropped out of view.

“What?” he asked, clutching at air. In a second, he too was at the rail, half his body dangling over as he looked below. There was a bush, a big bush with a smiling white filly stuck right in the middle, smiling up at him.

“Come on, hurry!” she called, just above a whisper.

Right, a bush, she’s safe. Why was I worried about her? Shaking the thought away, Featherweight looked over his shoulder at the mostly empty dining area, and jumped. His wings snapped out on either side of him, slowing his descent before he crashed into the same bush.

Leaves flew everywhere, and more than one branch snapped loudly as he landed in a quasi-hug atop Sweetie Belle. They lay there, panting on the edge of laughter as both tried to wriggle out of the awkward position. A few moments of grunting, kicking, and clutching at thorny branches later, and both of them were huddled beneath the shrub, backs against the building as they tried to catch their breath.

“Hello?” came a voice from above that froze the blood of both young ponies. “Young Miss? Your souffle is ready... Dammit, I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that Pipsqueak brat, not with what he did to my wife! Hot Stuffs, where are those kids!” They heard the sound of angry hooves trotting away from the edge, and let out a whistling puff of air they had both been holding back.

“We need to get out of here,” Featherweight said.

Sweetie Belle nodded, and climbed out ahead of him, her tail idly tickling the edge of his nose as she squeezed past. Featherweight coughed, and paid very close attention to a crack invading the building’s walls.

He joined Sweetie Belle on the roadway and both of them, in one accord, trotted towards the back of the building and into the shade of the nearby library tree, where nopony could see them from the restauraunt.

Sweetie Belle shook herself, leaves and a few twigs cascading off of her and onto the ground near the tree’s rear exit. Good idea, we must look mad. He ruffled out his wings and shook his entire body, aware of Sweetie’s eyes on him the entire time.

“You have pretty wings,” she said, then caught herself. Blushing deeply, the filly turned away and took a few more steps towards the library. Sighing, Featherweight followed her. Using the maniable tips of his wings, he picked a twig from her mane, eliciting a very surprised look from the mare.

“Um, thanks,” she whispered before casting her gaze elsewhere. Her face was still beet-red, but she was smiling a little.

Right, this is getting odd, he thought after a few moments of baking beneath his own blush. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, another familiar voice spoke out, muffled.

“Oh, those studies in biology really do show!”

Another voice spoke, this one in obviously trying to sound steamy. “Why, thank you, I do try to study every interesting thing about ponies, and I must say, your thing, is very interesting.”

Featherweight and Sweetie Belle glanced at each other. “Was that Miss Cheerilee?” she asked. They frowned at the tall tree beside them before inching forward.

“I must say, I always did admire your brain, but other parts of you fascinated me very much as well.”

“Hmm, your thighs are very firm.”

Giggling, muffled but joyous, made its way through the wall. “You try standing in front of a class all day, not to mention reaching the very top of that board.”

Featherweight shared another look with the filly at his side. “What the hay are they talking about?” She shrugged.

“Speaking of reach, how about we get started?” The voice was trailed off as the first laughed aloud. From somewhere on the second story, loud rumbling was heard and a few things thumped on the ground repetitively.

Sweetie Belle grabbed his foreleg, holding on tight as she stared at the second story window in fear. “Maybe they’re hurt?” Loud moaning from above only justified her train of thoughts.

“Wait here.” Featherweight sighed, slowly easing himself out of her grip. “I’ll go take a peek.” Bunching himself up, the pegasus kicked off the ground, flapping wildly until he caught hold of the window’s banister.

Inside, the room was a dimly lit mess. Couches had been moved aside and the drapes on all the other windows had been firmly shut. Featherweight kept searching for the two mares he had heard, but couldn’t find them. Two forms tumbled into the cleared centre of the room: one pink, the other a deep lavender.

Sweetie Belle below was pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing up at him. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Looks like Miss Cheerilee is riding on top of Miss Twilight. They’re both wearing weird clothes. Oh, Twilight flipped Cherilee over and now she’s grabbed her from behind. Her face is in an... odd place.”

The unicorn below frowned at him. “Yeah, okay, but what are they doing?”

“I think, I think they’re wrestling,” he said as he pushed away, flapping a few times before smoothly landing beside Sweetie.

“Wrestling?”

He shrugged in time with a particularly loud moan. “Maybe it’s their hobby, or something? You know, judo?”

“Maybe,” Sweetie Belle agreed as she looked down pensively. She looked up again suddenly. “I-I should get going. My sister’s home today and she might get worried.”

Oh, I was actually... maybe starting to have fun... maybe. He scratched the back of his head. “Well, let me at least walk you home. I live past you anyway.”

Sweetie Belle positively beamed at him before subduing herself with a lithe cough. “Thank you. That’s very, gentlecoltish, of you,” she said, mimicking her sister a little as she moved to his side.

Right. Just get her home, say goodbye, don’t get snogged, and go home. Safe, right? He began walking, and was slightly disturbed to see her match his pace. They distanced themselves from the library-tree and headed into the deeper parts of town, using roads that were quiet and only sparsely filled with wayward ponies. Mid-way through their voyage, Sweetie Belle leaned in towards Featherweight, her tail swishing his own with each sway of her hips. I need to do something about this.

Taking a half step away from her, he searched his mind for any interesting conversation piece. Her favorite food? Too personal. Latest Crusader adventure? Nah, this is probably it. Stuff about Scootaloo... too awkward. Finally, exasperated and out of ideas, he looked at her and noticed her horn.

“So, it must be really cool, being a unicorn and all,” he began, hoping she would talk away.

“Um, a little, I guess.” She shied away.

“Just a little? I mean, you guys can levitate stuff, and teleport, and do all sorts of nifty things, right?”

She fumbled around a little. “Well, yes, I guess, but you really need to practice hard, and not everypony’s good at it at first.”

He playfully tapped her shoulder, a slightly strained smile on his face. “I’m sure you’re great at it!”

“Well, I can levitate things a bit better now,” she said demurely. “Want to see?”

“Sure, what could go wrong?” I could die, he thought.

Sweetie Belle slowed to a stop, only a few dozen steps away from Carousel Boutique’s side entrance. Furrowing her brow in concentration, the filly’s horn glowed a deep white that was mimicked by a nearby rock. Gently, the rock floated up, and effortlessly glided its way towards Sweetie Belle.

“Wow, that’s so cool,” he said as he leaned in and low towards the glowing rock. It shivered slightly. From his lowered position, he looked up at Sweetie Belle, and gasped. Each and everyone of her hairs was poking out at odd angles, but because of that, they formed a halo around her head, reflecting the serene light. “You're very pretty when you do that,” he said.

The rock slammed forward, smashing into Featherweight's face with the force of a small freight train. He was catapulted across the yard, only to crash at the paved entrance of the store with a squishy thud.

“Featherweight!” Sweetie Belle shrieked as she ran towards him. “Are you okay? Did I kill you?”

Yes, Sweetie, you killed me, Featherweight thought . All that escaped him was a rough groan. From somewhere above him, he heard a door opening with a slight screech.

Groaning again, he looked up and into Rarity’s dazzling face. She sighed upon looking at him. “What did you do now, Sweetie?”

“I-I killed Featherweight,” the filly sobbed. He could feel her hooves grabbing at his side, poking and prodding him.

“Not dead,” he croaked weakly. Yet, he added in thought.

Rarity finally spared the time to inspect him and his bruises. “So this is the famous Featherweight?” she mused. Somewhere behind him, he could feel a massive heat source. He suspected that it was Sweetie’s face.

Magic surrounded him, lifting him up gently before whisking him into the room. “Come, we’ll bandage him up. Then, maybe he could try on a new outfit or two; I have just the thing!” Rarity dropped him in the centre of the room where he began massaging the side of his head. “Come with me, Sweetie. What are those things in your mane?”

He glanced around. Sweetie Belle was in front of him, sitting on the ground with an expression of pure sorrow and worry on her features as she glanced in the direction that Rarity had walked off towards. He glanced around and at the impressive room. Every wall had a massive window, and at every window there was a mannequin wearing a different ensemble, each one more nightmarish than the last. “Can’t I stay with him?” she asked her sister.

Rarity answered, her voice distant, but it still carried a strong suggestive undertone. “Wouldn’t you rather impress him? Come along Sweetie, we must get some things together to help your little coltfriend.”

This will not end well.

He waited, one hoof tenderly touching the growing welt that was forming right above his forehead. Right. First things first, I have to get out of here. Hoofsteps sounded from the doorway. Too late.

Rarity slid into view, hips swaying provocatively in such a fashion that Featherweight took a long moment to notice the pile of bandages floating alongside her. She sat down in front of him, head tilted upwards as she looked through the bottom of her wire-framed glasses at his head, and ‘tsked’.

“Sweetie, Sweetie,” she sighed and floated out a small tube of ointment. With a tiny squeeze of magic, a drop of the liquid flew out of the bottle and spread itself onto his forehead. “She’s a sweet little filly. A bit of a ditz sometimes, but real sweet. Oh, and that voice of hers... you ever hear her sing?” -Featherweight gave a slight shake of his head-. “I can guarantee that in a few years, every colt on this side of Canterlot will be lining at our door.”

She smiled the type of smile worn by an older sibling, or maybe a proud mother. She leaned forward and wrapped a thin cloth around his head, cinching it tightly before placing her face inches away from his own. In a sugary sweet voice, she whispered, “If you ever, ever hurt her feelings, I will end you.”

Featherweight gulped as Rarity picked up her stuff and began trotting away. She stopped mid-stride, hooves just the right distance from the ground to show off her flanks. “Oh, and she’s about to show off her prettiest dress to you. The thing means a lot to us. We made it together. You will like it. No, you will love it. Then, I will dress you up in a fashion that she finds adorable, and not one peep will escape from your cute little mouth.”

With expert ease, she levitated half a dozen scissors from out of a rack and a long piece of flowing cloth. In mid-air, the sharp blades swirled across the cloth, ripping and tearing through it. When all was done, a cut out of a male pegasus wafted through the air before tumbling down. Before it even alighted on the ground, the scissors were back in their respective sheaths. “Capiche?”

He nodded, eyes following the back of her head as she left the room. Huh, I might die today after all.

He didn’t have long to wait. Sweetie Belle trotted in from the same side door that Rarity had exited, and was shortly followed by her overly happy sister.

His jaw dropped.

From head to hoof, Sweetie Belle was draped in a luxurious gown. The flowing curves and ample, yet simple, detailing made her look much older, not to mention elegant. Stylish lines were cut through the material at a few places, exposing her shoulders and the edges of her flanks in a way that made her look taller and slimmer. The edges of her eyes and lips had just the tiniest amount of purple make-up that seemed to glow as she smiled shyly his way. He snapped his mouth shut, and gulped. She’s... sorta really good looking.

She did a little twirl in front of him while Rarity practically gushed at his side. “Oh, wait!” the mare exclaimed. “I’ll get my camera, and a little something for you!”

The mare ran out of the room, the little cut-out pegasus fluttering as she blurred by. Featherweight used the opportunity to mouth the words ‘save me’ to Sweetie Belle.

She tilted her head to one side and inspected him closely, taking a small step forward just as Rarity returned, camera floating on one side, and the unholy nightmare of all young males on the other. “Oh, no, I forgot the film. Sweetie, be a dear and go fetch it for me, please?” Rarity asked, batting her eyebrows at her sister.

Sweetie Belle smiled, nodded, and trotted out of the room, moving her hips in the same way her sister always did. Featherweight couldn’t help from blushing. That dress really accentuated certain things.

“Put this on,” Rarity ordered once Sweetie had left. She tossed the white and blue ensemble his way. It landed with a dull thud at his hooves. He looked at her, eyes filling with tears as he pleaded. Her smile strained on the edges.

With supreme self control, Featherweight picked the outfit off of the ground and slipped on both parts, cringing as the velvety material slipped along his coat. Finally, all that was left on the ground was a small, flat-topped white cap. “Do- do I have to?” he squeaked.

“Oh, yes, yes you do. You two will look like the perfect little couple. Or else.” The brilliant flash of sunlight off the sharp edge of scissors caught his attention. Demurely, he reached down and put the cap over his head, just as Sweetie returned.

“I couldn’t find the film anywhere,” she told her sister.

Rarity produced a small black cylinder out of nowhere. “Dear me, seems like I had it all along! Get into place now, Sweetie.”

For the first time since entering the room, the filly’s eyes roamed towards Featherweight, and stuck onto him. She let out a small gasp. Her gaze twitched over him, from the little blue bow that topped his chest, to the seemingly too-tight pants that squeezed his thighs. She even lingered on the blue-and-white stripped lapels. With a giddy squeal, she galloped across the room and plopped herself down at his side.

She, she likes this sorta thing? I need to reevaluate my priorities in life.

Rarity fiddled with the camera while Sweetie Belle made herself comfortable close by his side. Very close. He could smell her mane at that range, a faint smell of lilacs and wild berries that brought water to his mouth.

“Smile!” Rarity said cheerfully. Featherweight looked into the camera’s objective, and glared. The device dropped a few inches, revealing the patience strained face of the mare behind it. “Smile.”

He did. Nervously, but he did. The camera flashed a few times in quick succession before Rarity put it down. “Perfect, but that outfit Featherweight has isn’t quite... refined enough.”

Oh Celestia, no.

Rarity gasped, lifting one hoof in exclamation. “I have this wonderful little onesie. I’ll be right back!”

Featherweight grabbed Sweetie Belle by both shoulders, bringing his tear-stained face close to her own. “Get me out of here. No matter what it takes, just get me out of here.”

She looked at him, eyes wide in shock, before blinking a few times. “Ar-are you okay?” she whispered consolingly. He shook his head. “Come on, follow me.” She turned around, the edges of her robes skimming the ground lightly as she led him to the side of the room and out of a door opposite the one Rarity had passed.

It was a kitchen, a simple rustic kitchen, with a slightly messy counter-top. The remaining crumbs of that morning's breakfast were still on the table beside an almost empty glass of juice. The chairs were pulled out, open, welcoming. It’s a nice place, I guess, thought Featherweight as he sneaked along.

She led him to a back door where a familiar face was looking through the glass plane. Pipsqueak took one good look at Featherweight in his sailor-boy outfit and rolled backwards, his uncontrollable giggles loud even through the thick door.

Not caring one bit, Featherweight tore open the door and ran out, panting at the door’s edge from the sudden decrease in pressure. “I’m sorry,” Sweetie Belle said from behind him. He turned, still halfway in the doorway, and faced her.

Inwardly, he was sighing. It’s not her fault; her sister’s the crazy one. He opened his mouth to say as much, but just as he did so, Sweetie Belle’s lips met his. He tried to talk, but only ended up making guttural mumbling sounds. Pipsqueak stopped laughing mid-note at his side and was looking at him with a sly smile, and an arched eyebrow.

Rarity walked around the corner just as Sweetie broke back from the kiss with a disgusting little squish sound. “Sweetie, have you seen Feath--”

Sweetie Belle panicked. Her horn glowed brightly as she scurried back. The door shivered, then slammed shut.

Featherweight was still in the door frame.

For the second time that day, the colt was thrown across the air, his white and blue outfit matching him to the open sky for a short while. This time, as he landed in a confused, painful heap, he didn’t get up.

I give up; I’ll never understand mares.

They were wrestling. Really.
Honestly! They were tugging at each other, they both wore black belts...

Anyway... This chapter was a ton of fun to write, and it was easy too. Too bad they’re not all this simple to spew forth. Also, hurting Featherweight is my greatest pleasure.

For a guy who has no idea what will happen when he opens the doc, I think I’m doing okay.

Edited by:

StapleCactus

Your Antagonist

Proofread by:

N

Cpl Hooves

and

Frederick the Saiyan

That’s a lot of random ponies.

Next time on : Of Challenges and Kisses:

Featherweight awakens in the hospital, with Scootaloo, and a sailor boy outfit.

Extreme Hospital Sports?

Shocking Diagnostics?

Amateur Surgery?

Will Nurse Red Heart Find True Love?

Tune in next time!

Oh, and I categorically refuse to release the next chapter until I get an image of Scootaloo, in a hospital bed, holding a book while wearing the cutest little pair of glasses ever.

Thank you all for he favs and comments! We absolutely love them!