Canterlot at night was a unique place. While other cities were bigger or had stronger economies, the nation’s capital was the oldest land-based city in Equestria, and had the richest history. While bureaucrats and diplomats did their business with the stiffness of an iron rod, the city’s night culture had over a thousand years to develop into a mysterious and enthralling hodgepodge of institutions for ponies to wallow in their own degeneracy once formal business had concluded. One of such institutions was a nightclub simply named “The Equestrian Gastronomic Society. ”Located near the Eastern wall of the city, it was a rather unassuming place: the building was a fair size, but sparsely decorated on the outside, and the paint flaking off the bricks made it seem like it was some cheap establishment that could barely keep the lights on.Yet, one could spot the most powerful and influential of Equestria’s elite waiting in line patiently for the bouncers to let them in. It was a mysterious place; everyone knew about the club, yet very few knew what happened inside the club. Those wanting to get in needed to know a password that changed semi-frequently. You needed to be in the know to get access, and for many, such knowledge would forever elude them.

However, that doesn’t stop others from trying. Fortunately, the club had certain procedures to rid themselves of nosy outsiders, as one tuxedo-wearing unicorn stallion in line would soon find out as he approached the two gruff bouncers outside the club entrance.

“Password, please,” spoke the taller of the bouncers, a grey pegasus stallion with a neatly trimmed pastel green mane and a slim yet muscular build.

“Uuuh, password? Nopony said anything about a password,” replied the tuxedo-wearing guest.

“No entry without a password. Sorry,” replied the bouncer.

“Hey now, maybe we can reach an agreement, my good fellow,” said the guest with some bravado. His horn lit up, and several triple-digit-domination bits levitated out of the pocket of his sports jacket, letting the coins jingle together in front of the bouncer’s face.

“No entry without password, sorry,” said the bouncer, clearly unfazed by the offer.

“Alright, listen up,” said the guest, raising his voice. “Do you know who I am?I’m Pocket Change, the COO of Equestrian Girders, the biggest steel smelting and manufacturing firm in the country, and I’ve been waiting in this line for almost two hours! If you don’t let me in, I have the power to make life VERY difficult for you!”

The bouncer simply sighed. He turned to his fellow bouncer, a more petite unicorn mare, who levitated a small green lapel and pinned it onto the guest’s tuxedo.

“For you, special newcomer pin .Be discrete,” the bouncer said flatly, gesturing the guest inside.

“There, now that wasn’t so hard,” the guest said, turning up his snout and trotting inside the club. He wasn’t able to hear the snickering of the guest behind him as she stepped up to the bouncers.

“Password, please,” asked the bouncer.

“Esophagus,” whispered the mare guest. In reality, she didn’t have to; the unicorn bouncer would quickly cast a zone of silence spell whenever she suspected a guest actually knew the password to prevent others in line from hearing.

“Thank you, blue or red lapel?” The bouncer asked.

“I usually go blue, but tonight I think I’ll go red to keep me safe while I watch that jerk get his comeuppance!” Squealed the mare guest with delight.

“Excellent choice,” said the bouncer as his assistant stuck a red lapel on a lanyard and wrapped it around the guest mare’s neck before waving her in. Through the open door, the bouncer could catch a glimpse of the tuxedo-wearing guest being led off by an attractive griffoness wearing a red lapel. He recognized her as a regular guest, one who always picked the red lapel. The tuxedo-wearing guest had a dumb smile on his face as he was led into the private rooms. The bouncer shook his head; the tuxedo-wearing stallion never stood a chance. “Next.”

The next guest was a tall mare, cloaked in a dark robe that obscured most of her face and body. However, a giant blue horn poking out from underneath the darkness of her robe, as well as her flowing starry mane and tail, easily identified her as the princess of the night.

“Ah, Princess Luna, thank you once again for visiting us. I do have to ask for the pass…” the bouncer began.

“Esophagus,” Luna said, interrupting him.

“Very well, blue or…” the guard began, trailing off as Luna levitated the green lapel out of the box. Her cloak turned into bats flying away into the night, and her magic levitated the green lapel to her obsidian chest piece. She cantered into the nightclub without another word, leaving the two bouncers in the dust.

“You know, one of these nights she’s going to meet her match,” said the mare bouncer.

“Yeah, won’t that be something?” The male bouncer added with a small chuckle. “Next guest, please.”

As Luna stepped into the bowels of the nightclub, trance beats began to fill the air. She rounded two corners, put in the entrance to ensure nothing could be seen from the streets, before she entered onto a lounge overlooking the dance floor. The air was heavy with the scent of sweat and saliva, and only the strongest stomachs in the world could stand what Luna could see from that lounge. You see, the Equestrian Gastonomic Society was a club where the rich and powerful could engage in their deepest, darkest desires: the consumption of their fellow being. It was not the only vore club in Equestria, but it was the country’s oldest, and more importantly, the only one that did not offer revival services on site. Sure, some could arrange for a third party to cast a regeneration spell, but such magic was very difficult and costly to perform, leading many to forgo it. The ponies, griffons, hippogriffs, anything you could think of, they all played for keeps here. Naturally, it was very important for patrons to make it clear what they preferred, to prevent messy misunderstandings. Each guest was required to carry a lapel on them at all times: blue meant that the guest preferred to be prey, and were broadcasting themselves as edible and open for eating arrangements. The red lapel, on the contrary, identified guests who loved doing the eating, or prey who preferred a night of not having to worry about getting gobbled up. The rules were that marked preds could only consume marked prey once both had agreed to it, and there was to be no consumption of marked preds at any time in the club. It was a simple system that kept things running for centuries. However…the club had another lapel, and a very special one at that. The green lapel was reserved only for those outside of the circle who were pushy getting inside the club. Those wearing the green lapel were exempt from all rules, especially the one involving consent. They were free game, and, in fact, the management preferred that they be *dealt with* as quickly as possible, to better keep the big secret under wraps. Usually, guests given then green lapel were consumed almost immediately, save for one: Princess Luna. She was also the only one to willingly choose the green lapel night after night she visited. Why she did so was a mystery to everypony, save for her. Many preds had tried to conquer her, but alicorn magic and strength had vanquished all potential diners. In actuality, Luna loved seeing preds try to trump her. She never had any intention of being eaten, but effortlessly fighting off those who did try to consume her gave her a rush that was unmatched by anything else she had ever felt.

Luna could see dancing mares and stallions with grossly distended guts of varying composition, from lumpy and moaning to smooth and sloshing. Even the DJ appeared to be humping her own bulging belly in time with the beat, deliberately holding the microphone close to her belly to add faint gurgling to the background of the music. That was just the dance floor; the club also had a sizeable lounge and private rooms as well. In the lounge, preds chatted with either fellow preds or their prey as they enjoyed fine drinks. Some of the more playful prey laid on silver platters while their friends dressed them with garnishments and sauces.

“May I suggest the plum sauce? It appears as though it would pair well with you,” Luna said as she passed a giggling group of prey dressing one of their own on a silver platter while a couple of hungry hippogriffs looked on. She continued trotting through the lounge, passing the hallway leading to the private rooms, taking note of everyone she saw. She spotted several Equestrian parliamentary representatives, as well as that one griffon diplomat that her sister had seen earlier in the day. He had a blue lapel; Luna chuckled at the thought of her sister having to deal with a mysterious disappearance. She nodded her head as her eyes darted around, making mental notes of which figures she could recognize. There was Countess Celadon, Baron Goldhoof, Forward March the renowned investor, and…Prince Pharynx!?

Luna had to do a double take. She had expected to see changelings in the club, but the second-in-command of the entire Hive? A burning curiosity fueled her, driving her to approach him where he was sitting in the lounge chatting up a pred mare. As she got closer, Luna noticed that Pharynx was wearing a red lapel. It figures, she imagined, given the history of their species.

“Prince Pharynx, it is good to see you here,” Luna said, interjecting when Pharynx’s conversation lulled.

“Whoa, Princess, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Pharynx said. He glanced towards the mare he was chatting with. “We’ll talk later. You know what to do.”

“Yes sir!” Said the mare with a proud salute, before she hopped off of her seat and waded through the crowds onto the dance floor. Luna took her seat, lying down to get comfortable.

“So, a foreign prince has found out about one of Equestria’s darkest nightclubs,” Luna said in a teasing tone. “I suppose you’ll be using this for blackmail? I know that your brother planned on visiting my sister next month to hammer out a trade deal. Are you going to push for more favorable terms, lest you reveal to our allies that the Equestrian crown endorses cannibalism of its citizenry?”

“Huh? Nah, I don’t have the patience for those kinds of political games,” Pharynx said. Luna still couldn’t get over how his gruff voice matched poorly with his new elegant and beautiful form. “I was just hungry and in the city, so I decided to see what this place was all about.”

“Hmm, I doubt that, but I suppose there’s nothing I can do about your motivations,” Luna continued.

“Believe what you want to believe,” Pharynx said, sipping a small glass of fresh daffodil nectar (on the rocks).

“How did you even find this place? Some ponies try their whole lives to work their way into circles that could even give them a single hint as to the true nature of this club,” Luna asked.

“Oh, Princess, just because we’ve overthrown the old queen doesn’t mean we’ve completely dissolved our old spy networks,” Pharynx said with a casual chuckle. “Especially under my management, we’re still keeping tabs on everycreature we can. It’s just our nature. It’s what we do, and we’re good at it. So good, in fact, that I knew about this place after only a few days. I figured that this is a quick way to get a bite while I was here managing the Canterlot spy network.”

“I wasn’t aware that changelings were carnivores,” Luna said curtly.

“Well, we aren’t technically, our bodies just turn prey into supercharged love batteries during digestion. Besides, ponies are tasty. I’m sure you had several missing individuals after the time my kind almost sacked this place. I’ll give you a hint, they weren’t captured~. Besides, just because our two species are friends now doesn’t mean we've stopped seeing you as food too,” Pharynx said with a wink.

“Very interesting,” Luna continued. She knew how to play the game of politics, and Pharynx was falling for every one of her subtle questions hook, line, and sinker. She had heard rumors that he was a bit of a brute with little sense of restraint, but even she was surprised how easy of a time she was having with him. She giggled as she traced circles on the velvet upholstery with her hoof. “I suppose that we’ll need to step up our game. Don’t worry, we’ll simply deport any spies we find. No sense muddying our relations with jail sentences for changelings simply following orders.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Celestia won’t even know,” Pharynx said with a mischievous smile.

“Oh really? Planning to blackmail me now, hmm?” Luna asked coyly, wondering which of her dark secrets Prince Pharynx had found out about.

“No, I’m planning on eating you, here and now. The green lapel stands for no-rules, you know,” Prince Pharynx said, standing up. He licked his lips as his solid purple eyes drilled into Luna’s, and she couldn’t help but realize that Pharynx had a long, forked tongue. It made her heart race, but many had tried to take her and failed, and she was confident Prince Pharynx would join those ranks.

“I know, and there’s a reason I wear it,” Luna said as she stood up herself.

“Oh really? What’s that?” Pharynx asked.

“So I can get the satisfaction of trouncing cocky preds like you. Bring it on,” Luna said. Her coy demeanor had hardened, and the fire of determination burned in her eyes.Luna was a fighter, and would not let Pharynx have his way with her, especially in front of her subjects!

She didn’t have much time to think; in a flash, Pharynx’s elytra flared open and his wings buzzed loudly, propelling him forward with a powerful hum. Luna’s own wings unfurled and performed powerful beat downwards, propelling her out of the way in the nick of time. One of Pharynx’s antlers bumped her left hind horseshoe, making it fall off and clink loudly on the linoleum floor. As if on cue, everycreature in the club stopped what they were doing and watched the pair.

“WOOOO THE HUNT IS ON!” yelled one guest from within the crowd, followed by the whole club beginning to cheer and stomp in excitement. Hunts were always fun to watch, and this one looked like it would be great too. Before long, all eyes were on Luna and Pharynx as they chased each other through the air.

“The club is now taking bets on who will be victorious!” shouted the bartender.

“I bet 100 bits on Luna!” shouted one guest.

“I bet 500 on Pharynx!” yelled another.

“I bet my prey friend on Luna!” exclaimed yet another.

“Wait, what?” said the prey friend as he was grabbed and lifted onto the bar.