Five Star Service – When a Mare Meets a Man

By Five Stars of Manehattan
Special to the New York Life and Manehattan Post Magazines
October 26 issues

New York Life Chief Editor’s Note:

Another week, another invasion of our offices and privacy as our latest opponents learned nothing from last time despite hefty fines and court appearances. But then again, why would they? They’re college students, secure in the knowledge of their own intellectual infallibility and the rightness of their causes. Being modern liberal arts majors, it seems that all they really learn is how not to learn.

When I said we’d be ready for them, that was both a promise and a goad. We had warning this time—you idiots aren’t the only ones who are tech-savvy; we were monitoring your message boards—and when they broke in, nearly a hundred of them this time waving the usual array of badly-spelled slogans on cardboard, they found a phalanx of humans, griffons and ponies waiting for them, all friends and supporters, blocking their way forward… and back. They were then sealed in the lobby, where the unicorns in the group fried their electronics with a sustained magical burst, preventing them from taking any video, making calls or even listening to music. The doors behind were sealed shut, the windows blocked and lights turned low, and it was then we resorted to the tactics that they later claimed were an attempt to ‘torture’ them…

We wheeled in multiple TVs that showed them a series of videos on continuous loop, the volume turned up enough that they couldn’t drown it out with chanting. It was anathema to them, the one thing they could not tolerate, reducing many of them to tears as they were forced to listen, unable to hide behind their smartphones and trapped outside of their echo chambers and without a safe space to retreat to…

Different opinions.

We showed them online anti-feminist screeds, conservative speeches extolling family and country, undercover videos from women’s health clinics, statistics that debunked their precious talking points, stories and interviews of happy man and mare couples, ugly quotes and threats of violence from their own movement and, direct from Equestria, a recorded speech from Five Stars herself mercilessly mocking them. Through it all, we recorded it ourselves with our own unaffected video equipment, and then posted it online for the entire world to laugh at as we ‘tortured’ them for nearly six straight hours…

In other words, we ‘triggered’ them. Repeatedly and gleefully. If your definition of torture is being forced to hear things you don’t want to, then you’ve robbed the word of all meaning.

We did eventually let them go, though some were so distraught that they had to be carried out crying. I understand they’re now promising retaliation and to sue us, and my response is: bring it. You broke into OUR offices and invaded OUR privacy twice, yet YOU are the victims here? We did something unfair by fighting back?

News flash—we didn’t lay a finger on you; we simply blocked your way and didn’t even bother to press charges this time, because we got far greater satisfaction out of mercilessly mocking you. We will be more than happy to replace your magically-fried cellphones with the surge in online donations we’ve gotten, but that’s just a small fraction of the damage you caused to our offices and printing presses last week. Beyond that, I can think of no better way to tell you to fuck off than this classic Monty Python scene:

And Kalido? Forgive me. I know you won’t approve, but it needed to be done. No regrets. And no apologies. Oh yes, and… explicit human/pony action ahead. But hell, at this point that’s what most of you’ve been waiting for, right?

—Jamie Kason, acting chief editor, New York Life magazine

Manehattan Post Executive Editor’s Note:

I’m happy to say that for a change, it’s been All Quiet on the Equestrian Front, to paraphrase a piece of rather depressing human literature I’ve been reading recently. Kalido is wrapping up her sabbatical here in Equestria. We’ve very deliberately NOT told her what’s been going on during her stay, and she’s seemed quite happy to be ‘off the grid’ for a bit, touring Equestria and not worrying about anything. She’ll be heading home next week, I think a much happier woman than when she arrived. We’ve enjoyed having her, and will be plying her with gifts and well-wishes for her return trip through the portal.

Hot Topic left as promised in renewed search of her missing Gentleman but has not returned yet. We received a slightly cryptic message from her a little earlier saying she had stumbled on ‘something big’ but nothing more. A followup message said she’d likely be out for another week, and to publish the next article on schedule in the meantime.

—Extra Edition, executive editor, Manehattan Post magazine

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Dear readers—

Yes, it’s true, I recorded a little lecture for ‘Operation Trigger Warning’ as Jamie called it, and I was only too happy to do so after our own encounter with these idiots a couple weeks back. My ‘mockery’ consisted of simple, but pointed, questions—How is it ‘equality’ to promote the denigration and emasculation of an entire gender? What is ‘tolerant’ about teaching hatred and attacking others who don’t share your opinions? How is appreciating males and pointing out their mistreatment ‘promoting patriarchy’? And why do you demand everyone else adhere to rules of civility and conduct that you yourselves refuse to follow?

Those were just a few highlights of my ten-minute speech. And I even admit to some sense of satisfaction in seeing the hysterical reactions to my lecture via video replay, including a couple young women who charged the televisions shrieking to try and smash them, only to be magically picked up and deposited back in their makeshift seats, forced to watch and listen to it in full… over and over and over.

I admit I shouldn’t take pleasure in the unhappiness of others. It’s a very inharmonious and un-pony thing to do. And yet, I couldn’t help but feel that some small measure of justice had been dispensed that day, and slept quite well that night. They may hate me for it, but all I did for those misguided students was what human society has done for ponies many of time—held up a mirror to them. And in the end, they liked what they saw in it no more than we did.

I’m not so naive to think that’s the end of it, but maybe at least a few seeds of doubt have been planted. Something that can grow later. I’ll settle for that for now.

I’m also happy to say I got closure on another matter this week. Three days ago, my griffon bodyguards asked me to come with them after work, saying they had something they wanted to do for me. They were acting very formal and solemn as they escorted me in a chartered chariot all the way to the Gryphon Consulate here in Manehattan, where I was admitted immediately, somewhat confused, my bodyguards flanking me. I was then met by a phalanx of griffon diplomats in full dress uniforms, who exposed their necks to me in a sign of deference and politely requested I follow them into the consulate courtyard.

When I got there, I found… a path leading to a fire, in front of which sat a stone tablet with some personal effects I didn’t immediately recognize… and a line of griffon warriors on either side, fully armed and armored like they were ready for battle.

As the ceremony began and the ‘name of the fallen’ was announced, it dawned on me what was happening—it was a memorial service for Miral! Having died in service to the Kingdom, he was given full military honors, which for the Griffins means a show of force in respect for his spirit and sacrifice.

I don’t know how, but they had obtained some of his old belongings—his service medals and shoulder pauldrons from his time in the Kingdom’s Auxiliary Guard, and even his silver-and-blue dress uniform which he had kept in his old office, which were now sitting on the tablet in front of the fire. They had been kept pending the dedication of the Cloven War Memorial, when they were scheduled to be ceremonially burned along with the rest of the personal effects of the dead and missing. But at the request of my bodyguards and a surprising intervention by Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, who wrote me a letter saying she was touched by my story, they had been delivered by special courier to the consulate three days earlier for this purpose.

I was directed to a seat of honor reserved for friends and family. I listened, tears in my eyes as they read off his list of citations, his service to the Kingdom, and attestations from those who knew him. It was a surprisingly long list, and even included a proclamation from Queen Molyneux herself saying that all gryphons mourned his loss; that his sacrifice held the same weight in the Gryphon Kingdom as the soldiers who died in battle.

Upon hearing that, I cried. A funeral medley was sung as their mage made the fire flare high, representing the symbolic cremation of the body and release of the spirit to join his ancestors and the heroes of the Gryphon Nation. Normally, tradition held that his effects would be either given to his kin or destroyed in the fire, but they made an exception for me, inviting me to take them for myself as he had no more family. I took it all and stayed out there half the night as the soldiers stood vigil over his funeral pyre, deciding I could do no less.

Upon returning home, I hugged my two bodyguards hard, unable to thank them enough. I slept wearing Miral’s dress uniform that night, the barest trace of his scent still on it. And perhaps in time for Nightmare Night, I have a ghost story to tell. Though I’m not normally one to believe in spirits, I swear I had a visitation that night as I suddenly woke up and found myself on a forest path, walking through the woods until I reached a mist-covered river. The river was impassable, except for this small bridge that disappeared after a short distance into the fog, one I somehow knew I couldn’t cross, leaving me uncertain what to do or why I was there.

I got an answer when Miral suddenly appeared out of the mist on the bridge, walking towards me.

If it was a dream, it was a more lucid one than any I’d ever known. He told me that he remembered and missed me and was honored by the telling of our story. I told him how sorry I was for how I’d treated him and how much regret I had; in return he held my hoof and told me to never regret what we shared or where it had ultimately led me, promising that in the end I would yet find a special someone out there. In the end, we just sat there hugging until the dream faded.

I woke up late the next morning feeling sad, spent… yet strangely at peace. Between the ceremony and the dream, whether the latter was real or not… it was, in a single word, closure. And I swear this wasn’t there before, but I found something stuck in the seam of his jacket, something that brought tears to my eyes yet again…

One of his mottled white feathers!

I had the feather and his medals framed along with the photograph. They now adorn my desk and walls, greeting me whenever I return home. As for his dress jacket, I wore it the rest of the week. It now hangs in my closet beside Braeburn’s vest.

It’s funny, but I had always dreaded telling this part of my story for the emotions I was likely to reawaken. But now, I’m very glad I did for the resolution it brought me, granting me healing to a part of my life I thought was forever going to be an open wound. So let me very personally and profusely thank my griffon bodyguards, who request anonymity so they can continue to do their job. You were hired to take care of me, and you very much have.

And with that… it’s time. It’s been twenty articles and nearly ten months work on this series, all leading to this one penultimate moment in my life.

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Year One

Let me start by setting the scene. It had been one year since the portal opened. One year, almost to the day since Equestria got turned upside down. Longer than that since I’d returned from the Kingdom a wreck of a mare, and longer still since I was with Miral.

I’d done well since Delta had to scrape me off the ground in that alley. Wanting to make things up to her, I’d been the best worker and manager I could for her, and I now knew her business affairs inside and out. She was pleased with me as well, especially that I’d kept my promise to keep with my counseling and not touch cider or any other form of alcohol even once during that time.

I also hadn’t had a single stallion—or mare, before anyone asks. It was coming up on the longest drought I’d ever had on that score, yet I didn’t really find myself wanting for it. The two heats I had in that time came and went with the help of nothing more than a cooler... though I’ll admit I pleasured myself to thoughts of Miral more than once during them, imagining what it would be like for him to hunt me down like the predator he was, catching me and taking me again out under the light of the full moon.

It was a measure of my progress, at least, that I’d more or less come to terms with those fantasies, though I couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss over them as well. I missed Miral, and yet I also missed what I used to feel for stallions. Miral had supplanted them somehow, and that did bother me. I guess the biggest reason I didn’t try another stallion was not just that my last encounters went so badly, both for my emotional state and trying to force things, but quite simply… none of them seem to do it for me anymore. I didn’t want another pony, I wanted Miral! I wanted his beak, his talons, his wing over my back… and yes, even his tapered organ inside me.

Heats were the closest I ever came to finally writing him, but in the end I didn’t because I was afraid to face him after all I’d done and how badly I’d treated him, to say nothing of everyone else around me during that two-month low point in my life. I’m sorry to say, I was still being something of a coward when all was said and done. And it is a sentiment I still rue to this day.

With the one-year anniversary of the portal opening fast approaching, Equestria was in a bit of an uproar again. Ponies had more or less comes to terms with the news that we now had alien neighbors who were magicless bipedal apes, and the local newspapers had finally gotten tired of reporting on them. All that changed with the news that humanity would finally be visiting us for the first time, in just over a month. As we’d already sent nearly a hundred emissaries to their world over the past year, Princess Luna and Celestia foremost among them, we were inviting an equal number back through the portal to experience Equestria for the first time.

I don’t think I have to remind anyone that there were some fears back then of what might happen because of the crossing. On our side of the portal, we weren’t sure we wanted such a potentially violent race admitted to our world. The similarities between humanity’s arrival via interdimensional travel and Tirek’s arrival and subsequent betrayal of our trust was constantly in the back of our minds. It didn’t help that both, superficially at least, appeared eerily similar to one another.

We also didn’t know what would happen when human technology was introduced to Equestria; there were even some influential nobles calling for humans to be magically ‘converted’ to ponies for their passing. The utter infeasibility of that aside, I’m relieved to say that Celestia herself strongly vetoed that suggestion, saying that we would welcome our new neighbors as they were, and she would hear no more neighsaying from anypony.

For their part, humans were terrified of diseases passing through the portal—a valid concern, given we had no real idea how each other’s worlds might affect us—and very wary of magic, which their science was having a great deal of trouble quantifying and explaining. We had learned by then that Equestrian magic was very limited on earth, which lacked the natural world-infusing aura that ours did. So basic unicorn spells like levitation would work but be weaker, and more complicated spells like teleportation were out of the question.

It wasn’t just the unicorns, either. Pegasi noticed that flying was more difficult on Earth outside of the immediate area of the portal (which appeared to have suffused the area around the island with magic over time), and they could exert only very limited influence over Terran weather. Earth ponies were likewise affected in that they weren’t quite as strong or stout, and couldn’t as readily grow crops.

Nevertheless, a group of one hundred humans were selected to be the first to cross the portal. Some were diplomats, but most were actually selected from a pool of volunteers that were supposed to represent a cross-section of humanity—different races, different home nations, everything from artists and musicians to scientists and engineers. They were to be greeted at the portal and then escorted to Canterlot, where we would give them the grand tour and all the Equestrian hospitality we could muster…

An affair that would be organized in large part by yours truly.

Arrival

I still don’t know exactly what I did to earn that honor, and at the time wasn’t sure I wanted it anyway. Delta told me she had recommended me to the princesses for the post of liaison and chief organizer, and I was completely taken aback when her recommendation was accepted.

I mean, it wasn’t just ordering food and putting up balloons for some party—plenty of other ponies could do that. I had to find them housing and plan out their itineraries; food had to be human-friendly and some had dietary restrictions that were hard to work with—I had never heard of ‘lactose intolerance’ or ‘gluten allergies’ before humans, but all had to be accommodated. And given their omnivorous tendencies, I also had to arrange for at least some meat to be available, which meant working with the griffons for the first time since Miral.

I had gotten used to meat-eating well enough back in the Kingdom, but I couldn’t help but feel this whole affair felt rather one-sided—that we were bending over backwards to accommodate our new guests, but what did we get in return?

I still didn’t think humanity had much to offer us at that point. A steady stream of anti-human articles in the local papers had taken their toll on many of us, and I simply couldn’t fathom what the Princesses saw in this new race. They were to be here for two weeks—two weeks!—and even though I’d be staying in my home nation this time around, I couldn’t help but feel some dread when the day finally came for them to cross.

I had done a pretty good job, I thought as I made one last check of my preparations on the morning of their arrival. All the inns and diplomatic quarters were set, itineraries and catering arranged, and I even had a Royal Guard presence along with a few griffon soldiers for the escort; the greeters all carefully screened for contraband and the off-chance that one might be a changeling—the last thing we needed was for one of Equestria’s enemies to upset things at this delicate moment. A few select press members were allowed to be there as well, though we kept most at bay as Celestia and Luna waited by the portal for the first passage of humanity.

We didn’t have long to wait. At the appointed time—10am—the portal shimmered and disgorged its first human visitor rather unceremoniously, all but flinging him into Equestria along with his two pony escorts flanking him. One was Princess Twilight, and the other was her brother, Shining Armor, both in full regalia. They both looked surprised at how forceful the passage had been as the human ambassador himself crumpled…

And promptly threw up as the cameras flashed.

He was immediately attended by several medical ponies, who got him back on his feet, all sides profusely apologetic and embarrassed. We learned only then that perhaps due to their lack of magic humans found the passage through the portal very disorienting, and moving through more than one person or pony at a time tended to double the effect.

That lesson was learned quickly at least, though it still didn’t reflect well on humanity for a first impression as each had to be helped through and attended in turn, which took the better part of two hours, already throwing a wrench into my schedule. Finally, all were through and more or less okay, several now looking around in wonder.

My impressions? Not good to start—hard to be impressed by a race whose first action upon entering your world is to vomit. They were quite tall, I noted, though they didn’t really outweigh the average pony of their gender, and had many different skin and hair colors. Those colors weren’t vibrant like ponies, however, they were mostly earth tones; various shades of tan, brown, blonde and black, though there were the two human mares (it took me a while to start remembering to call them ‘women’) who seemed to have dyed their manes something unnatural.

Their eyes were small but their faces surprisingly expressive, they used many of our gestures and mannerisms, and most seemed impressed by what they saw as they recovered from their passage—crystal-clear skies, vibrant vegetation, many hovering pegasi and unicorns casting spells to various effects. “I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore,” at least one was heard to say, to some chuckles from the others as they listened to a welcoming speech by Celestia and were then led onto the waiting carriages for the trip to Canterlot. They’d be traveling by trains only; I’d been told well before their arrival humans weren’t big on the idea of flying in pegasi-pulled chariots.

Which struck me as odd given I’d heard they’d traveled by air to the portal in their world, but as they were our guests, we would accede to their wishes.

Penned Notes

The trip to Canterlot took two hours.

We took a slightly circuitous route to show our guests some of the sights of greater Equestria, like Neighagra and the Foal Mountains. They seemed enrapt at the sights, talking excitedly among themselves, some holding up these odd objects to the windows, clicking and whirring camera-like sounds accompanying a few. I didn’t know what that was about until I made a walk down the aisle to introduce myself as chief concierge and organizer for their stay. One woman asked to take my picture, so I acceded, expecting some camera to come out, but the only thing that happened was a sudden flash coming from the rectangular object she held in her hand. I wasn’t immediately sure what that was about… until she turned it around and showed me my own image!

Princess Twilight, who had been staying with our new guests the whole trip giving lectures and answering questions, giggled at my reactions and for the first time, I started to wonder if there might not be something to what some whispered and generally laughed-at opinions said about human technology being the equal of Equestrian magic. Still, our visitors seemed remarkably backwards in other ways, not the least of which was all the clothing they wore. I was wearing an outfit of my own that covered my entire body and not all that happy about it, doing so as not to offend our guests who I had learned by then had nudity taboos. It was something that one of Delta’s dressmakers had whipped up for me, and unused to wearing things over my hindquarters I found it very inconvenient and itchy.

Most of the humans I saw had dressed in suits and ties like Canterlot businessponies—it was uncanny how similar, in fact—but I found my attention drawn to one in particular. He was taller than normal and somewhat reedy in build even by Equestrian standards; he hadn’t even really dressed up for the occasion near as I could tell. No, this one was in simple tan-colored leg-coverings (“Khakis” I would later learn) and a cream-colored, short-sleeved collared shirt with open top buttons and no tie. He wasn’t talking with the rest, but he was taking notes as he watched the scenery go by though his black-rimmed spectacles, writing feverishly on some kind of notepad with a… well, it wasn’t a quill. I didn’t know what to call it. I kept waiting for him to dip it in ink, but he never did and the thing just kept on writing.

Curious, I went up and introduced myself. He was initially startled, looked me over from head to toe, his eyes flickering to my covered hindquarters for a moment as he offered me his hand, his fingers open.

I had learned from our cultural studies that humans ‘shook hands’ to introduce themselves, but that’s not something ponies can do. Still, I offered my hoof back, and he looked a little confused before realizing something, belatedly curling his fingers inward as to bump his ‘fist’ with my hoof. I found my eyes drawn to his fingers in turn, automatically comparing them to griffon talons. They were smaller and blunter but seemed far more nimble; I watched somewhat fascinated as he involuntarily started twirling his writing implement between the fingers of his other hand in what almost seemed an impossibly dexterous feat, before continuing on writing.

I was a little curious, so I asked him what he was doing. I found it somewhat funny when he looked up from his notebook, startled, almost a repeat of a few moments ago. “Oh. Uh, sorry about that,” he said, scratching the back of his head. It was a somewhat endearing, yet familiar, gesture. He also had a slightly odd accent to me; it wasn’t Canterlotian but did sound somehow old-fashioned and upscale all at once. I knew I’d heard it somewhere, though… maybe Trottingham? “Well… I’m a writer,” he explained, showing me his notepad. It was already filled with words and quick sketches. It was, I would grudgingly admit, rather impressive that he drew and wrote far faster than I could writing with a pen in my mouth, and all without magic. He then returned to writing, which would have been rather rude if he didn’t glance at me apologetically. “I want to say sorry in advance if I seem to ignore you. It’s just that everything here is so inspiring.”

I looked at him for a moment, watching him glance out the window at random intervals. I looked outside as well. Honestly, I thought the scenery wasn’t that impressive.

I must have said it out loud because he replied, “Maybe not for you.” I looked at him, and he was giving me a rather warm smile. “For me, however, the scenery is making the trip worth being spun and squeezed like an old sponge.”

I almost laughed at that. Actually, it came out as a snort.

“Well, I’m glad you find it rather funny,” he began, his body now taking a somewhat aggressive stance. Yet he never lost his smile, and his tone remained easy-going. “I’d like to see you react from being stretched, spun, and spat out like yesterday’s garbage.”

I didn’t know why, but my sardonic reply came out so easily. “Been there, done that, have you?”

His smiled widened slightly, showing a bit of teeth. I shivered involuntarily, seeing some sharp edges. For a moment, I thought I might have overdone it, saying something maybe a little too unfriendly. Again, however, something in his expression seemed to mitigate the feeling, as it never fully came out as predatory. In fact, I thought he looked like he was enjoying the conversation.

“Too many times to count,” he replied with equal ease.

It was a bit disconcerting on how I was starting to enjoy the conversation as well, and found myself wanting it to continue. “What kind of books do you write?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just some mystery novels, and thrillers.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘thrillers’, but mysteries were certainly a book genre we had as well; I had gone through a phase as a teenager where I had eagerly devoured every one I could find. My interest was definitely piqued by this strange human. His strange accent, his easy-going nature, but it was mostly his pale green eyes. He was now studying me through them with almost the same intensity as when he had watched the scenery out the window. There was… I didn’t know how to describe it. It was amusement, curiosity, interest, enjoyment, and other subtle expressions in his face. It gave me a strange, yet familiar feeling.

Talking to him got easier as time passed, and I used the conversation to satisfy my other curiosities, like the thing he was using to write with. He called it a pen even though I saw no quill feather or tip on it. It was nearly the length of his hand and at least partially metal, though the bulk of it didn’t appear to be, just the ends. I didn’t know what the rest was made of, but there was clip at the upper end which he demonstrated made it ideal for putting in his chest pocket. When I asked how it worked, he took it apart to show me, startling me again with how dextrous his hands were. He had it disassembled in seconds, but there was no way I could do that to such a small object with just my hooves.

“The ink is in the cartridge, here,” he held up a very thin object that almost ran the length of the container, half-filled with a dark fluid that somehow didn’t run out the open end. “And it feeds this nub,” he showed me the tip, turning his pen over repeatedly in his hands, drawing a quick line on his notepad to demonstrate. With such a small amount of ink to work with, I was certain it wouldn’t last very long and said as much, but he shook his head and grinned, saying a single ‘cartridge’ could last for weeks.

“But doesn’t it dry out?” I next wanted to know as he reassembled it with equal ease.

In answer, he clicked the opposite end, which made a sharp sound and caused the nub to retract inside its casing. “Only if I leave it exposed,” he grinned, for the first time taking some pleasure in my startled expression. It didn’t want to admit it, but it was a very clever design, and I could certainly see using that instead of a quill.

I had to continue down the aisle, but not before I asked him his name. “John,” he replied (no, that is NOT his real name!) “Perhaps I can regale you with some of my stories later?” He offered, the barest twinkle in his pale green eyes.

“Perhaps,” I agreed with a nod and a smile, wondering if it was just my imagination when I felt his eyes on my hindquarters again as I departed.

After an inauspicious beginning, our guests were feeling much better by the time the train pulled into the station, climbing the mountain and then passing through the gates of the city. If they were intrigued before, they were visibly awestruck by the Equestrian capital, at least one remarking it was a feat of art and engineering that ‘even humans’ would have trouble with, going on to say that he ‘would never have guessed’ we lived in such beautiful cities like that.

I overheard that remark and found it a little patronizing—just what did they expect we lived in, barns? And why the surprise over our capabilities?—but I put on my ‘concierge charm’ as Ember had called it so many years back and stood before our guests, smiling warmly and welcoming them personally to Canterlot, announcing the first thing we would be doing is feeding them lunch—a picnic in the Canterlot gardens overseen by Celestia herself.

While they were taken in open carriages pulled by earth pony guards, I was rushed ahead by pegasi chariot (flying! Ugh!) to make sure all was in readiness, and naturally little was. The food was not out, the tables were not arranged properly, the musicians were arguing, and Prince Blueblood, who was supposed to be part of the greeting ceremony and sitting at the royal table was nowhere to be found—I later learned he was boycotting the whole affair and would be spending the entire two weeks at his villa in the Dolphin Islands, wanting nothing to do with the new arrivals.

I can’t say I was sorry for that given his (now-changed) reputation, but the lack of readiness in the food and entertainment was more problematic. I untangled the mess as best I could, dashing from the kitchens to the courtyard and back, wishing I could teleport like a unicorn could. By the time our guests arrived, the tables had been rearranged, the appetizers were coming out, and the music section was setting up. The latter included some rather notable figures in the Equestrian music realm, including Lyra Heartstrings and Octavia Melody, a harpist and classical musician of some renown. Rather odd how they had both settled in Ponyville…

Delta was there as well to lend her singing voice to the occasion; I swore (and not for the first time!) that just her presence seemed to make things run more smoothly. She had actually been at the portal itself for the welcoming ceremony but I’d barely noticed her for all I’d had to do. She caught my eye long enough to mouth ‘well done’ at me, and I gave her a nod and tired smile back. I’d had some rough days as a concierge at the Shemareaton and Mystique, or trying to get things set up for Delta’s performances in the Gryphon Kingdom, but this…

A welcoming lunch for an alien race in front of the Princesses themselves was a whole different level of pressure and stress!

Yet, I persevered. On some level, I saw it as my final redemption for what had happened the year before, and in the end I’m very happy to say I succeeded. Princess Twilight herself would later commend me on my organizational skills, though I don’t think I realized at the time how big a compliment it was coming from her.

Dinner and a Show

Lunch went well. Speeches were given, presentations were made, music was played, and Delta stepped up to sing for the group, her voice commanding the attention of all present. A song of what else—friendship. Some of the humans seemed amused we put such a high premium on the concept, but those whispers were quickly silenced as she sang. They may have lacked magic and harmony, but even they could feel her song in their hearts.

To my shock, I was invited to the royal table to take Blueblood’s place. “You’ve earned it, Five Stars,” Delta told me, and Celestia herself agreed, offering me public accolades for my tireless work.

What could I do except bow? Being in her presence was overwhelming enough, never mind all the additional royalty. The only one missing other than Prince Blueblood was Princess Luna, who had stayed up long enough to greet our guests but was now sleeping and would be handling the evening affairs.

It felt unquestionably good to take a load off my hooves, and it was certainly high honor to sit at such an opulent table and partake in a meal with the royals themselves. But it was also quite… awkward, certainly, none more so when our Princess of Love, Mi Amore Cadenza asked me what my initial impressions of humanity were!

“They’re… different,” was all I could immediately manage, my memory flashing back to my meeting on the train with John. I spotted him up at one of the outlying tables, and as if sensing my gaze, he turned towards me at that moment, giving me a grin and wave.

“Ah… you seem to have caught the attention of one,” the ruler of the Crystal Kingdom teased, and I couldn’t help but blush. “Who is he?”

I told her his name, and what he did. “An author? Intriguing…” She nodded. “I’ve read some human books, including several of their romance novels Twilight obtained for me. If they were any indication, human love works quite differently than for ponies. It may interest you to know that their gender roles are reversed from ours—despite being the dominant gender in many of their nations, the males are in fact the suitors, and have to court females.”

I blinked. “But that’s completely backwards!” I couldn’t stop myself from exclaiming, which earned a round of chuckles from the table as I quickly apologized for speaking out of turn. Still, my mind was already in motion, trying to figure out how such a thing would work. Males… come to MARES? I wondered, suddenly imagining myself being treated by one, buying me a drink or a meal.

The idea brought about an odd and slightly heady feeling that stuck with me for the rest of the day.

After lunch, the carriages took our guests to their respective quarters, which were scattered throughout Canterlot. After being given some time to rest and get settled—and I myself took the opportunity to nap—they were gathered back up and treated to a grand tour of the city and castle by Princess Twilight herself. As dusk fell, they were returned to the castle gardens for dinner—game meat had been imported from the Gryphon Kingdom for the occasion, the smell of it cooking causing a few ponies to gag—and treated to the display of sunset by the Celestial sisters, Celestia lowering the sun and Luna replacing it with the moon.

It was always a very compelling display, even for ponies, but the reaction among the humans wasn’t altogether awe. They had been seen plenty of magic by then and certainly been told that our princesses controlled the sun and moon, but hearing and seeing were two different things. As day quickly turned to night, I saw a few frightened faces and some strange gestures made by at least one human, who made a series of rapid up-and-down and side-to-side motions across his chest.

“This isn’t natural…” I heard one say. “Has to be a trick…” another whispered, apparently not understanding that Equestrian hearing was better than theirs given our larger ears. The majority of our guests were fine if slightly shaken by what they saw, but at least three asked to return to earth immediately, unable to cope with it all. They were taken back to their hotel rooms promptly and though one changed his mind, the others were escorted back to the portal the next morning.

As darkness fell and Luna’s starry skies became evident, I did see some real awe, many saying they’d never seen such a gorgeous display, making Luna visibly swell with pride. Minotaurian fireworks were then shot off—they were not cheap or easy to obtain, but I’d been given pretty much an unlimited budget for the festivities—and once dinner was complete our guests were invited inside the castle for the first time to visit the grand ballroom and mingle with ponies and the princesses for the first time.

Just like they did for the Grand Galloping Gala (for the record, I’d come with Delta to the last one and wasn’t impressed—far from a party, it was just a bunch of a prissy ponies standing around trying to appear self-important), Celestia and Luna greeted each guest in turn, flanked by Princesses Twilight and Cadenza. I noticed immediately that most seemed more than a little nervous around Celestia and Luna now, finally understanding how powerful they really were.

Our ruling sisters took it all in stride. Celestia in particular seemed to have a real talent for making conversation, and her smile and gentle word seemed to put most of our guests at ease. In contrast, Luna seemed somewhat fascinated by the technology our guests had brought with them, acceding to many requests for a picture, just as startled as I was to see her image on those screens even after her earlier visit to earth. I think she was flattered and pleased by all the attention heaped upon her.

Despite all that, the social got off to a bit of a slow start, human and ponies staying in separate groups on opposite sides of the room. In hindsight, the reluctance on both parties made perfect sense—I mean, how do you get to know a new race?

Once again, it fell to Princess Twilight to break the ice. She seemed to know virtually all the human guests, and matched them up with the appropriate ponies. Scientists to arcane theorists. Guardsponies to soldiers. Wonderbolts to uniformed military ‘pilots’. Musicians to singers—I saw Delta talking with one young man who had brought out an large lute-like musical instrument and was playing it for her—and before long, there were many conversations underway, humans and ponies finally getting to know each other. Yet for all that, I saw John again, not really mingling but standing outside a balcony, apparently just staring off to the horizon. I expected to see him writing in his notebook again, but surprisingly, all he had in hand was a drink.

My immediate duties done and somewhat curious why he was alone, I trotted over to him dressed in my Gala best and asked if there was anything he needed.

It was rather fascinating to watch his reaction. Before my question, he was looking at something with focused intensity, only for my words to snap him out of his reverie. Watching it happen the third time made me realize how easily it came for him to be lost in thought. He blinked for a moment, then focused on me. His face was almost unreadable when he gave me a rather flat “No,” before he gave me an apologetic smile.

“Oh, sorry about that,” he added. “I was a little distracted.”

Again, it was rather surprising how easy I replied. “You’re always distracted. Are all human writers like that?”

“Well…” he seemed to think about that a little. “I’m pretty sure there’s one. Amazing writer, by the way, and very good-looking.”

I felt my smile forming. “Oh? And who is this amazing and very good-looking writer?”

“I’d rather not say,” he replied smoothly. “It would sound rather conceited.”

“Strange,” I began, “because it already sounds very conceited.”

“Quite,” he said. “I hear he has that effect on others. Rather dastardly of him, if I have to say.”

I chuckled. I couldn’t stop it from coming out, and I felt a little cheated because he had such a victorious expression on his face. I tried to school my expression, but I was pretty sure I was still smiling. Wanting to change the subject, I said, “There is a party going on inside, if you haven’t noticed.”

John looked at the scene behind me, before looking back at me and smiling. “Odd. It wasn’t that exciting a few minutes ago.”

“A lot of things can change in a few minutes.”

“Undoubtedly,” he said, almost dryly.

For a moment, I pictured him as Prince Blueblood, and got my blood boiling a bit. “Want to join in?” I asked.

“Well, I was never much for mingling,” he began, “even during my secondary school dances. Besides, I haven’t found anyone in there that felt interesting to me.”

I frowned at that, knowing there had to be at least one or two pony authors in attendance—this wasn’t the usual court gathering after all; we’d selected our pony attendees to make a good impression as much as as our guests had in selecting the first humans to cross the portal. I decided I’d flag down Princess Twilight later, but for now, with everything in order, I decided to try and talk to him more myself.

Breaking the Ice

“So… what do you think of Equestria?” I asked him. “Enjoy the show the princesses put on?”

To my surprise, he looked uncertain, considerably less confident than he had on the train. “To be honest, all this is rather… overwhelming,” he admitted, frowning. It was the first time I’d seen that expression on his face. “You might be better off asking me after a few days here, and after a few pints as well.”

I blinked. Pints? Of what, exactly? But before I could ask, he continued, “I mean, seeing the sun and moon just move like that—“ he paused to wave his hand towards the sky “—it’s a bloody lot to take in.”

I still couldn’t fathom how their days and nights just happened of their own accord, but decided it was a question best kept for later. “The Princesses are impressive. But so is much of what you humans can do without magic,” I suggested, trying to draw him out a bit. Maybe it was a holdover from my Las Pegasus days, but I hated seeing someone not enjoying themselves. “The Princesses have nothing but good things to say about humanity. Princess Twilight in particular admires you a lot.”

He laughed. “Well, she flatters us, but honestly, moving celestial bodies?!” He rubbed his head for a moment. “Just the concept utterly boggles my mind. Seeing something like just makes you feel so small.”

Small seemed an odd term for a race that was so much taller than we were, but I tried to put myself in his shoes—shoes he seemed less than happy to be in, I noted, making scratching motions with his hooves (I didn’t yet know they were called feet) against each other. I remembered how rough my first few days in the Gryphon Kingdom were and how bad my culture shock was; I could only imagine what it was like coming to an entirely new world where all the natural laws were turned on their heads from what they were used to.

It was then I remembered the example of Miral, who had taken me under his wing and did his best to make an initially uncertain guest comfortable in his homeland. He’d done it for me and I was forever grateful for it, so it seemed the least I could do was turn around and do the same for this human, right? “Those devices of yours seem pretty magical,” I noted, motioning around the ballroom. “Do you have one of your own?”

In response, he reached into his pants pocket and pulled one out, showing it to me. It was a silver rectangle with, oddly, what appeared to be the silhouette of a bitten apple on the back. “So what is this for? Just taking pictures?” I asked him, genuinely curious.

He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s called a smartphone—a personal communications device that I can use to call people halfway around the world,” he explained, causing me to gape. “Not here though, unless you installed cellphone towers and launched communication satellites just before we arrived.” His sardonic grin returned.

I had no idea what that meant, but at my request he showed me some of its other capabilities—it held massive amounts of music and pictures he could peruse with a simple swipe of his fingers; I was amazed that such a small thing could hold so much. “What kind of music do you humans have?” I asked next. I didn’t tell him that the fact they had music at all surprised me—I mean, how could you create music or sing without Harmony?

“Just about anything you could ask for,” he told me with a light laugh, starting to sound more like the man I’d initially met on the train, making me feel better as well—clearly I hadn’t lost my touch in drawing out guests, even when it came to alien races! “Actually, I might have a song or two you’d be interested in. Care to listen?”

I blinked. “How can I?”

Grinning, he tapped something with a fingertip and music started playing, right out of the device. It was hard to hear and I told him as much, so he brought out these ‘earbuds’ and told me to hold still while he placed them very gently in my ears—they were a little loose, but they stayed put—before resuming the playback.

I nearly jumped out of my dress at how loud and crystal clear the sound was even through those tiny speakers, though that surprise only lasted a few seconds as I took in the song. It was martial in nature, a very powerful and rapid beat made with instruments I couldn’t even begin to name, and the sheer energy of it all but swept me up in it:

Just twenty seconds into the song, I was enrapt and my heart was racing. Humans had no Harmony or innate singing ability like ponies, and yet they came up with… this?

“You like that, I see,” he grinned, pausing the playback with another tap of his finger. “Here. There’s more. Let me show you the video that goes with it.” A few more taps on his device and the song began again, this time accompanied by a surprisingly clear moving picture on the screen:

“I… that’s…” I was at a complete loss for words. It looked like paintings of old battles from the Gryphon War I’d seen in the Wonderbolts Museum, except instead of pegasi and gryphons in combat it depicted aerial duels between these birdlike flying machines I couldn’t even fathom existed. I knew it was a depiction of war, I knew humans were dying in those machines as they crashed or exploded under fire from strange weaponry… and yet I couldn’t look away.

It was frightening, it was disturbing, it was confirmation of what some of the papers had said about humans being a violent race… and for all that it was utterly exhilarating. “When did this happen?” I finally found my surprisingly shaky voice.

“Nearly eighty years ago, now,” he told me, looking quite pleased with himself. “This song refers to my country’s darkest and finest hour—the Battle of Britain. A time when my island nation stood alone against one of the greatest evils our world had ever known; an evil that had already conquered half a continent and meant to subjugate us as well, trying to break our will to fight by bombing our cities from the air. We were reeling, our allies had fallen and all that stood between us and certain defeat was the RAF—the Royal Air Force,” he told me, almost reverently.

“Though badly outnumbered and fighting without rest, the RAF held the line and inflicted grievous losses, forcing our enemies to abandon their plans for invasion and buying us precious time. Time enough for us to build up our defenses and gain a powerful new ally, one that would eventually allow my country to be the stepping-off point for the liberation of the continent,” he went on with great pride. “’Aces in Exile’ refers to volunteer and orphaned pilots from conquered nations who escaped to Britain and fought for her, joining the RAF in hopes of one day freeing their homelands.”

If I hadn’t already been sitting down, I would have fallen back on my haunches hard. “I can’t even imagine…”

He gave me a curious look. “Come now, my dear Five Stars. I know ponies are peaceful, but take it from an author and student of history—no civilization ever passes or even comes into being without conflict. Surely there are such heroic tales from your nation’s past?” he challenged me.

I flashed back to the Gryphon War memorial at the Wonderbolts Museum. He was right, and yet part of me did not want to admit it—admit that ponies had their own less than harmonious history, one that required warriors along the lines of what the song described. “Well…”

At that moment, Twilight Sparkle flew up into the center of the room. “Attention, everyone and everypony!” she magically enhanced her voice. “For those who are interested, we are going to be having a showing of human cinema—a fascinating sword-and-sorcery tale called The Lord of the Rings!”

There was a smattering of excited chatter interspersed with a few groans from our human visitors. “Is that any good?” I asked John, who was wearing an odd smile.

“Quite,” he confirmed, a grin on his face. “It’s a series of three films. Doesn’t hold tight to the books they’re based on, but unless you’re a purist, it’s a very compelling tale all the same. It’s a rousing yarn and if you liked the music and action of this short song, you should definitely like the movie.”

If it was anything like that song I wasn’t sure my heart could take it, but I agreed to watch.

A Fellowship Forms

I went home that night completely and utterly spent. Emotionally and physically, I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so drained.

The movie had certainly lived up to John’s promise. Shown in the royal cinema room using a specially made reel, the music was amazing, the story compelling, and the sacrifices of two main characters very poignant and tear-inducing. Frustratingly, the movie had ended on a depressing note without resolution; I was told there were two more movies to come that continued the story.

At that point, I had no idea if could survive two more three-hour cinematic spectacles like that, and I wasn’t the only one—many of the ponies exiting the room seemed dazed. In fact, in the end John had to help me walk out, I was so shaky. He even offered to walk me home, which was a very odd offer to me, but I declined, needing to be alone with my thoughts for a bit.

As I walked home, the events of the movie played in my head over and over. The depiction of magic was interesting, if a little off even to my undiscerning eye, but what really stuck with me… were the battles. Just the sight of so many males fighting with not a mare to be seen went completely against the grain for me, yet I was assured that was the way it was on Earth. With even gender ratios, their more physically powerful males tended to be the ones who did the fighting, even in a fictional tale—and I had to be assured repeatedly it was fictional; it looked so real on the screen!

I barely remembered the walk home, unsure what I was feeling or what was happening to me. What I’d seen, what I’d heard… it all found resonance within me. This new race of humanity was backwards and some would even say barbaric, yet… there was something only too right about them if they could come up with things like this, and all without the magic of Harmony!

I didn’t sleep well that night. My heart and my mind simply would not settle down. When sleep finally did come, the dreams were intense, scenes taken from the song and movie, visions of music and war. And yet there was one constant in all of them—John, my first human acquaintance. He was always there, sometimes as one of those ‘pilots’, other times he was fighting in the movie… and sometimes he was just there to hold my hoof, as he’d done once or twice during the movie when he sensed me tensing up.

He was like no male I’d ever met; well-learned and fascinating, witty and charming, and as I was thinking about him I suddenly remembered the appraising eye he’d cast on me once or twice.

Wait. Was he interested in me? I then recalled what Princess Cadenza had said about how human gender roles were reversed, and it fell to the males to woo mares. But he’d just arrived in Equestria and barely knew me. I mean, surely he wasn’t thinking that way about me…

To my great surprise, I felt a nearly-forgotten stirring in my loins at the thought.

Humanity’s first week in Equestria passed surprisingly quickly.

Once our guests had gotten more or less settled and into a routine, there was less need of my services. The remaining two movies were shown by popular acclaim—I’m pretty sure Princess Twilight knew there would be a demand for them, so she had them available as well. My fears were not unfounded—the second movie was even more intense than the first, and the disconcerting presence of large Terran horses and their use as war mounts didn’t help matters. I understood they were not intelligent, to say nothing of undeniably ugly to pony eyes, yet it was still hard to watch them used in battle. Worse, John told me their depiction was accurate—that humans did ride them, and that was how they’d been used in human warfare as recently as a century earlier.

And yet, once again I couldn’t look away, even through the brutal battle of Helm’s Deep. It brought tears to the eyes of many a mare to see old men and young boys drafted for the defense of the fortress, taken from their families and mothers and given weapons that they had no idea how to use; I think more than a few of us wanted to leap right through the screen to protect them.

Of those watching, however, there was one mare that I noted maintained a stoic expression through all the bloodshed: Delta Requiem. After the movie’s conclusion, I asked her about what she thought. Her response was surprisingly sensible, and vaguely disappointing; “I’ve already seen all of them, the shock value’s worn off for me,” she shrugged, her tone carefully measured. It might have just been my imagination, but I got the impression that her initial reaction to the movies had been far more emotional, not unlike my own.

Princess Twilight left a day’s gap between each movie to make sure we could absorb it all and emotionally recover before seeing the next. A good thought, as I don’t think I could have taken watching them back to back. By the time the third movie was shown, I found myself much more numb to it. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not, but I did note with satisfaction that the key to final victory was only too familiar…

Friendship.

Friendship between races, friendship between nations… and the simple bond between two hobbits that allowed them to destroy the movie’s namesake and defeat evil along with it. It was undeniably epic, and the poignant note it ended on left tears in many eyes one last time. John was with me for both movies, occasionally whispering explanations or interesting asides—like how Aragorn’s actor had broken his toe when he kicked an orc helmet, making his scream all the more anguished, or how Saruman’s actor was originally supposed to play Gandalf.

Several times I found myself pressing against him hard, resting my head on his shoulder or just clutching his arm. Sometimes it was to seek comfort, others it was out of a mare’s instinct to protect a stallion as I had a very irrational but nonetheless real fear that was he was going to be swept up in the movie fighting. In response, he started laying a hand on my shoulder or withers, pulling me closer, trying to reassure me. We ended up walking the gardens and talking outside for several more hours. He offered to walk me home again, but I demurred, reminding him that if he did, he’d have to stay the night given that humans weren’t allowed to walk the city without escorts yet.

“And would that be such a bad thing?” he asked with a cocksure grin—something I noted he’d been wearing more and more as his stay had worn on, and his sharp wit was starting to come out in full force as well. “Does my company displease you, my good lady?”

I stared at him a moment but, suddenly flustered, I couldn’t think of any witty comeback of my own. “Goodnight, John,” was all I said, turning away before he could see the flush of my cheeks.

---

An Invitation Accepted

The next day was the sixth of their visit. There were no tours or group events scheduled, making it an off-day for me, so I took John to the Wonderbolts Museum, reasoning as an author and self-described ‘student of history’ he’d be interested in it, doubly so given that song he had.

I was right—he seemed fascinated by it all, especially the Gryphon War exhibits, closely examining the old armor and wingblade harnesses. Before long, we ended up in front of a large painting depicting the seven founding members of the Bolt Knights in battle: Blindside, Sky Sentry, Wind Whistler, Thunderbolt, Fell Flight, Swift Strike… and their leader, the indomitable Captain Firefly.

John meticulously read through every caption and description. He was visibly impressed by their story, finding it only too familiar. “Never before was so much owed so few,” he said softly to himself. I recognized that as a line from the song, and asked him about it. “It was a paraphrase of something said by our Prime Minister at the time, Winston Churchill. He was referring to the pilots of the RAF. Given what I’m reading, it would appear it applies here too,” he shook his head in wonder.

He wasn’t allowed to take pictures, so he feverishly sketched what he saw, filling out page after page of his notebook, leaving me fascinated anew at the rapid, practiced motions of his hands and fingers. The latter were easily the equal of unicorn magic in manipulating objects, and I had no idea how he could wield and move them independently like he did. He knew I was watching his fingers in motion, always giving me a teasing smile that seemed to anticipate my questioning. Maybe it was a little petty of me, but I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. I was pretty sure he knew that too, and his smile would get even more annoying.

Not as annoying as him constantly opening doors for me, though. I gathered that was a thing men did for women in his world, but the novelty wore off rather quickly, especially when he seemed to go to rather extreme lengths to beat me to it. I was beginning to hate the humans’ longer stride.

We ended up spending the entire afternoon there, and I treated him to dinner at the local Chineighse place afterwards, which surprised him, both for the food being strangely similar to something he knew on earth and the fact that I was buying. He protested that on his world, the males treated females and not vice-versa. I raised an eyeridge at the statement—no matter how many times I saw evidence of their reversed gender roles it still surprised me. “Well, you don’t exactly have bits to spend,” I reminded him with a grin. “And your company is payment enough.”

I wasn’t sure where that came from, except that I really was enjoying spending time with him. Initially I’d just been trying to help him overcome some initial jitters, but he’d ended up helping me as much as I’d helped him, and greatly broadened my horizons in the process.

I was honestly starting to think of him as a friend. And if the growing tug on my thoughts were any indication, possibly even more than that.

We lingered again over the remains our meals, the company good and the conversation better… though I think the owners were hoping we’d leave, made uncomfortable by the tall and potentially meat-eating alien in their establishment. He regaled me with more tales of his life and home nation, his thus-far modest success as an author, and even asked me to tell me about my life in return.

Surprised again—mares were supposed to let males talk about themselves, not the reverse—I initially demurred, telling him that my tale was not worth recounting. But in the end he pried it out of me, wanting to know how I’d gotten to where I was. So, I relented and told him about my herds and lovers, the jobs I’d held… and Miral.

He saw my expression drop when I talked about him and my previous trip to the Kingdom. “A griffon, you say?” his expression went thoughtful for a moment, rubbing his chin with his hand as he considered his next words. “Wow. Guess you really aren’t enemies with them any more. Sounds like you still have feelings for him.”

I made the admission that months of therapy finally allowed me to. “I do,” I acknowledged, my eyes closing tightly for a moment.

“So what was so special about him?” John wanted to know.

That caught me short. “Well…” Hard to believe, but it was something I didn’t have an immediate answer for. It was something my therapist had encouraged me to explore ‘when I was ready’, but that day never quite seemed to arrive… until now. “He was… different,” was all I could immediately come up with. “He was…”

“Exotic?” John suggested with a slightly wry grin, leaning forward in his seat—he’d gotten used to lower pony benches and chairs, though he did still find them a little awkward at times. Like all our visitors, he’d also had to learn the hard way to duck his head through doorways that were generally too low for him; it’d taken a few bumps before he’d finally remembered.

“Very,” I chuckled, my mind flashing back to that night in the field, remembering our round and all that had followed it. My eyes glazed for a moment at the memory, but I quickly shook it off, not wanting to get turned on in front of my new human friend. “Not just that; he was sweet and a genuine friend. But… things happened too quickly. I just couldn’t deal with it afterwards and it left me an emotional wreck.”

“I’m sorry,” he went downcast, looking genuinely sad for me. “Still, I admire you, Five Stars.”

That earned him an odd look. “You admire me?”

“Sure,” he said, taking a draw of his drink. “What you did is something humans would have a great deal of trouble with—experiencing love and physical intimacy outside your own race. That’s a level of trust and tolerance precious few ever achieve. From what you’re saying, such a relationship is… unusual, even here.”

“It is,” I confirmed. “But not unheard of. I guess in the end, I just wasn’t ready.”

He looked like he wanted to ask something else, but thought better of it. “Well, it is getting late… can I walk you home?” he asked hopefully.

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You don’t give up, do you?”

His wry grin grew. “Well, they are letting us stay out past curfew now,” he reminded me.

“But you still have to be escorted. If you came with me, you’d have to stay the night,” I reminded him back, surprised at sudden giddy feeling that was trying to take hold of me. Something I hadn’t felt since…

My thoughts were scattered as he answered. “Milady, I assure you on my honor and my knee I will bear up under such cruel torment as you describe!” He put his hand to his chest as he spoke, causing me to burst out laughing as he affected an olden noblepony accent.

“Well, then. Who am I to resist the wiles of a writer?” I wondered aloud, the giddy feeling starting to grow again. “Sure.”

“Let us be off, then!” he said brightly, looking very eager as we settled our bill. We turned towards the exit, and upon seeing the door, I glanced at John. He looked back at me, grinned… and then as one, we ran for it.

Annoyingly, he beat me to it again.

---

A Man and a Mare

We arrived at my apartment just ten minutes later. I had chosen that eatery because it was close to home, because I knew he could eat most of what was in there… and in hindsight, because it gave me less room to back out if he wanted to come home with me. It’s weird, but even at that point I wasn’t quite sure how I was thinking of him. He wasn’t a stallion, he wasn’t Miral, but he was very definitely male—the most unusual and yes, exotic male I’d ever met. He didn’t act like a pony or griffon, and I didn’t know at that point how typical he was of humans. To me, he was just… John.

And increasingly, I liked John.

I unlocked the door and let him inside before he could open it for me. He gave me an exasperated look. I felt myself grinning. “Yes?” I asked.

“I’ll give you this one,” he replied, ducking his head slightly to enter, “however, I still have a leg-up on you on the door-opening game.”

“Whine, whine,” I said, closing the door behind me.

He looked around. It wasn’t that much—a small living area with a sofa and table I used for reading, a study where I wrote letters and handled most of Delta’s business affairs, a kitchen with an icebox I’d barely touched since our guests had arrived, now bereft of pretty much everything except some old eggs and apple juice.

“Make yourself at home,” I invited him. “I can offer you some water, or some juice…?” I winced at my lack of refreshments, but then again I’d hardly planned on having one of our human visitors over as a guest!

“Water’s fine, thanks,” he replied, looking around as I lit and turned up a lantern, casting a warm orange glow throughout the room.

“Sure. I’ll get it for you in a minute,” I said, stepping in to my washroom to use the toilet. One thing I did not like about the clothing I’d been wearing is it made doing my business more difficult, and that combined with the fact that one of the first things I did when I’d gotten home was shed my clothes meant that I forgot to redress afterwards, exiting and walking to the kitchen, passing through the living room to do it.

Or maybe somehow I meant to do it. Either way, I didn’t realize my mistake until I brought the water out to him and noticed his cheeks were quite red. “What?” I asked, only to answer my own question when I realized what his wide eyes were taking in.

My own eyes went wide as well. “I’m s-sorry, I’ll dress immediately!” I turned to leave, unable to believe I’d made such a stupid faux pas—they’d drilled human nudity taboos into us over and over in the lead up to the visit, and made clear we were to remain dressed around them at all times.

“No! No. Really, it’s…” he had a light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and his spicy smell was getting stronger. I haven’t mentioned it yet, but humans, I’d figured out by then, actually smelled pretty nice. Earthy, sweet, sometimes spicy, but almost always pleasant to the Equestrian nose. “It’s fine. You shouldn’t have to accommodate me just because we humans can be such terrible prudes about such things. I know it’s normal for you. And…” he swallowed as he said his next words. “Truth be told, I’m rather enjoying it.”

Well, he was half-right—it was normal for most ponies, but not so much in the confines of Canterlot, where clothing tended to be a bit of a status symbol. Still, the last thing he said gave me pause. “Enjoying it?” Enjoying… ME?

“Very much,” he confirmed again, his eyes roving over me and for the first time I heard a nervous note in his voice. “I find you very… pretty.”

That had to be one of the clumsiest compliments I’d ever heard, but it was one you’d hear so rarely from a stallion to a mare. I sensed his eyes on me again, but when I turned back towards him, he was looking to the side. However, his flushed cheeks gave him away.

Okay. I wasn’t imagining this, he was ogling me. Eyeing my bare form and particularly my hindquarters, which he hadn’t seen before. “See something you like?” I couldn’t resist asking as I sat down on the adjacent sofa and lounged out, putting a little wriggle in my hips, seeing what kind of response I could get from him.

His flush intensified. “Well, uh…” he shifted slightly. “I was admiring… your cutie mark,” he finally managed. “I like it a lot.”

“Oh?” A flush was starting to creep into my cheeks as well. I stared at him a moment, then grinned, my eyes turning hooded. “Like a closer look?” I got off the sofa and all but sauntered up to him, presenting my flank for inspection. What are you doing, Five Stars? I asked myself through the flush in my cheeks, but the only answer I got back was… something I very much needed to.

John went a deeper hue, but forced his pale green eyes to look. “Well. Um… as it consists of five stars, I get that’s what you’re probably named for, but… the orientation of the stars is odd. What does it mean?” He said, sitting down and putting his hands in his lap what to my eyes seemed slightly awkwardly, I swore I could all but feel the heat coming off his body.

“Well, I got my name long before my cutie mark…” I told him, trying to focus, going on to explain that they came from the logo of my late father’s aborted hotel chain, and in turn from a constellation said to be particularly favored by Princess Luna. It wasn’t easy. I was really starting to enjoy the effect I was having on him, this exotic male from another world whose rules were completely different than my own. And most of those rules, it seemed, worked in my favor as he was both admiring and paying deference to me! It was an undeniable turn-on, feeling like I was being appreciated just for being a mare and not just taken for granted as one…

If only our stallions behaved that way!

My thoughts now turning decidedly sexual as they’d been threatening to do all evening (if not all week!), I went with it. Maybe it was the earlier memories of Miral, maybe it was a yearlong drought finally catching up with me, maybe it was I’d finally come to terms with things, or maybe it was just the attraction brought about by exoticness, much as had happened before. But was that enough? I suddenly wondered, reminding myself of what had happened with Miral—was I going to make the same mistakes all over again?

No, I sensed. This wasn’t like before. I didn’t have any alcohol in me this time, and I wasn’t being blindsided. What happened with Miral was pretty much a bolt from the blue, but I think deep down I’d sensed this coming for some time; pretty much ever since I first spoke to him on the train. And thus, when he asked if my mark was part of my fur somehow, I replied with a final, fateful question:

“Would you… like to touch it and see?”

He just about fell out of his seat.

“You’re… you’re sure?” he asked, his cheeks now very flushed, and the front of his ‘shorts’ visibly ‘tenting’ to use two terms I didn’t even know by then.

In response, I grinned and shifted a little closer, turning my rear fractionally towards him. “Feel free.”

“O-Okay…” He made several halting motions with his hands before he finally worked up the courage to do so, laying them on my flank. A wave of warmth went through me at the contact, only redoubled when he began to run his fingers through the fur of my flank, centered around my cutie mark, and I couldn’t help but take a sudden breath.

“It… it…” he started to knead the area in more earnest, seemingly unable to restrain himself. “It really is just fur…” he finally admitted, his own breathing starting to come harder and quicker.

My doubts fading and internal boundaries quickly falling—somehow, I sensed this was not wrong, but only too right—I got more teasing and shameless. “If you aren’t convinced, try the other flank as well!” I offered as I turned completely away from him, facing my hindquarters directly at him, the heat and almost-forgotten scent of arousal starting to come thick off my marehood.

But I didn’t display it—not just yet, even as I heard him take a shuddering breath as not one but two hands were now placed on my hips. It was just like Miral’s talons on me, except—even better! (blasphemy!) His fingers weren’t sharp so they didn’t scratch, but they could knead—oh, could they knead! I found myself wriggling my hips back into his grasp trying to soak up more of his touch as he began running his hands up and down my sides and over my hips repeatedly. More than once I felt his thumbs trailing more than once back towards my nethers like he was trying to work up the nerve to explore them; I could only imagine what it would be like to have those wonderfully dexterous, probing fingers inside me! The thought alone made me wet with anticipation, but still he didn’t make a real move for it. “You can go further, you know…” I told him, my voice now audibly husky.

“I wasn’t sure…” he admitted slowly, his hands still not moving off his flanks, fingers flexing hard against them. “I don’t know all your body language or how you say yes.”

An odd question, given I certainly hadn’t said no, and one I wouldn’t really understand why he would ask until recently. “Well, let me give you a free lesson on mares, then.” I grinned, wishing I could see his face for what I was about to do. “Here’s the biggest cue that she’s ready and eager…” With that, I flagged my tail, displaying myself fully to him—letting him see my swollen marehood and wetness with his own wide eyes, winking the opening at him, hard.

Judging by the sudden hurk! sound he made, he nearly came in his pants.

The next few minutes are but a blur of memory to me, even as at the time they felt like they were taking a small and very pleasurable eternity.

As ready as I was and erotic as I found the idea, I nearly climaxed myself at the first touch of his fingers to the lips of my marehood, an explosion of tingling sensation that caused my legs to buckle, hard. It was the first time I’d had human hands explore me, but as many a Gentleman can now attest, definitely not the last! It was all I could do to hold on and not come too quickly as he stroked, stretched and stimulated me with those wonderfully blunt talons of his, ones that reminded me of Miral’s yet were far more nimble and agile, able to go places and do things his couldn’t. They probed me deeply, inserting one, then two fingers, their reach and range of motion finding sensitive spots I didn’t even know I had, taking me to ever greater heights of ecstasy, leaving it all I could do to continue standing.

But John wasn’t done yet. “You’re… you’re so… this is… I’m just… ” he was a writer, and yet at that moment he never quite seemed able to complete a sentence, letting his actions speak for him.

If I’d thought nothing could equal what I was experiencing, he quickly proved me wrong as I suddenly felt a new sensation—hot breath washing over my nethers. My eyes snapped open and I realized his intention just before his lips contacted my own.

At that, I did collapse against him. “Mmmmph!” Unable to stand, I buried my head in a cushion from the adjacent sofa, my loins afire from his efforts as he worked me with fingers and tongue in an act so few pony stallions would ever perform. He was like all my lovers rolled up into one at that moment—every bit as good as Cayenne, every bit as desirable as Braeburn, every bit as eager and wanting to please as Cruise Control, every bit as fun and kinky as Aces up and Double Down… and yes, even every bit as exotic and erotic as Miral.

I moaned. I writhed. I couldn’t imagine how anything could ever be better than what I was now experiencing! This wasn’t just rutting, he was making love to me as precious few males ever had! Worshipping my pony form, my very femininity…

If this was what humanity was about, then why had we ever feared them?

I don’t know how long we spent like that. Like I said, it’s blur now—a beautiful blur of pleasure and ecstasy, to say nothing of the sheer rightness of an act that I would have been appalled at anypony even suggesting before they arrived. And yet, now here this alien male was… in my apartment, attending and pleasuring me as nopony ever had…

I guess in some senses, he was the very first Gentleman!

When I finally did come—it might have been the moment he started sucking on my clit; I really can’t remember, I was so lost in the moment—It was like a supernova or storm breaking a yearlong drought in the Kingdom. It was wonderful, it was magical, and it’s no exaggeration for me to say I felt reborn at that moment. I rediscovered who I was, remembered what I’d willfully deprived myself of for so long as for the purposes of penance and healing…

And learned what my real purpose and destiny was to be. Needless to say, I came so hard I passed out, screaming my new lover’s name.

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This is not the end of our story. Far from it in fact, but… well, I need to take a break. As you might well imagine, this is a very heady and emotional tale for me to tell, and though it’s certainly for entirely good reasons this time, I still need to step back from it for a bit. I’m aware that I’ve probably given enough information in this story for John’s true identity to be guessed, but that’s fine this time—I’ve already been in touch with him, and he’s given permission to reveal his real name. I already have his letter in hoof to share, and will do so at the end of the next article.

Until then… I hope you’ve enjoyed what has been in some ways the true climax of this story, both figuratively and literally! This was a pleasure to tell, and I’m not done yet. And to all who may still neighsay for whatever reason, whether herd traditionalist, religious conservative or the so called ‘social justice’ crowd on earth, I’m sorry you still can’t see how stupid and self-serving your objections really are. What John and I did, what Gentlemen and clients do, what humans and ponies do… is wonderful, beautiful, and helps cement the bonds between our races and worlds. At the end of this story, at the end of twenty articles, all I can ask now is…

How is any of that wrong?

Next Chapter: Part 21: A Night To Remember Estimated time remaining: 5 Hours, 15 Minutes