Five Star Service – A Night to Remember

By Five Stars of Manehattan

Special to the New York Life and Manehattan Post Magazines

November 2 issues

New York Life Chief Editor’s Note:

I’m back! Tanned, rested and ready, and wondering just what the hay I’ve returned to (hard not to pick up some Equestrian idioms when you spend a month over there!) I’ve been filled in on what happened during my absence, certainly, and can only shake my head in wonder and disgust. Invasions of our building, damage to our printing presses, our workers now under threat from the so-called social justice crowd… and a visit to our offices by no less than Prince Blueblood.

As a young girl, I was always taught to turn the other cheek in the face of bullies and insults. As a teen, particularly one who grew up in a working class neighborhood, I learned the limits and general ineffectiveness of that advice, and as an adult, I came to believe that the courts and simple common courtesy were the proper recourse when your good name and very livelihood were attacked. For the most part, I still believe that holds, but one thing this trip and spending some serious time with Hot Topic, whose philosophy on running a large publication is certainly far more direct than mine, taught me was that there’s a time you have to take a stand on your own behalf, and not count on others to do so for you.

In the end, that’s what Jamie did, and I daresay the simple sense that we were standing up and fighting back for real did more for morale here than any previous court ruling or statement of support. Officially, I have to reprimand him for actions unbecoming a journalist, making himself part of the story. Unofficially… well, at this point, I wish I was more like him. I’ll start trying to be now.

It would seem I’m returning to something of a hornet’s nest again, though being far more rested and plied with gifts and well-wishes from my new friends in Equestria, I’m ready to face the music and our latest adversaries, who clearly have little idea of anything out of their insular little social justice cliques. To that end, I’ve compiled a list of the universities they attend and ordered their schools stricken from our internship program. Since they see fit to boycott us for the high thoughtcrime of publishing Five Stars’ articles, we will now boycott them. Until there are serious changes and some administrators in those places that display some actual horse apples (to use the pony vernacular) and start reining this idiocy in, we will not recruit in such places and I have ordered our lawyers to start drawing up a lawsuit aimed at not just the students involved but their colleges themselves, for enabling and supporting their lawbreaking.

Now that those unpleasantries are dealt with, down to business—here comes another of Five Stars’ articles. Yes, that means yet more explicit human-pony content ahead, and worst of all, a mare singing the praises and sexual prowess of a man. I know, we’re terrible people, promoting patriarchy or bestiality depending on who we talk to and what day of the week it is. Excuse me as I toast our evilness with some imported Sweet Apple Acres Special Reserve Cider, stronger than whiskey and smoother than sake. Or in the words of its makers, “kicks like a mule, tastes like a million.”

—Kalido Tenna, Chief Editor, New York Life Magazine

Manehattan Post Executive Editor’s Note:

To our readers, old and new, from Earth and Tellus alike—

We have lost all contact with Hot Topic, who has not been in touch with us in over a week now. She’s done this once before, when she went deep undercover to expose corruption in city hall, so we hope that’s what’s happening again. Still, it’s not like her to suddenly just drop out of sight, and we’re getting worried. It would seem the disappearance of her Gentleman was merely the tip of the iceberg, but after a recent HERD-inspired attack on one of Five Stars’ former herdmates (a story kept out of the papers until today, one we will now leave to Five Stars to tell), there are certainly ponies out there who may wish her injury or even worse.

I would never say she couldn’t take care of herself—she’s one of the toughest mares I know—but Hot Topic, if you are reading this… please be careful and remember if you need us, we’ll come flying. Let us know you’re okay if you can.

And yes, another lurid article from the mistress of men, Ms. Five Stars, is ahead. For the sake of fragile psyches and feeble-minded, we offer this ‘trigger warning’: explicit and indecent interspecies action ahead.

—Extra Edition, executive editor, Manehattan Post Magazine

Dear readers—

Well, it’s been awhile, hasn’t it? I apologize for not getting this article up in the last issue as scheduled, but something very serious came up.

Readers may recall that in a previous article, I received and published a letter from the lead mare of my first herd, Harvest Moon. In the letter, she claimed that she’d changed her ways after losing control of the Shemareaton, and asked for the chance to mend fences. I declined, stating that that wound was simply too deep and I had my doubts as to how sincere she was. Looking back, I now regret that decision fully.

Within this issue of both magazines is a singular article from Harvest herself. She wrote it and I very happily edited it for her, and now will excerpt part of it here:

“Sign here, please.”

Three small words, those. Ones I’d heard many a time before; ones I’d said myself many times. Words ponies everywhere hear multiple times throughout their lives. But this time was different; this time, it felt like the lawyer’s words were that of the human Devil, and I was signing away my soul.

In some respects, I was. The Shemareaton had been my pride and joy for many years, the fruit of all my labors. I’d built a power base in Manehattan as the hotel’s head, and had enjoyed the influence that came with being in a position of prestige and power. And all of it was now crashing down, as I signed this one last paper: the notice of sale.

It was unavoidable; according to the board of investors, the loss in profit in recent months was being attributed directly to my presence at the hotel. While I could potentially keep the hotel afloat with my own sizeable savings, that would have been a delaying action, at best. The board had made it clear that if the Shemareaton was to survive, I would have to leave.

Celestia’s mane, that’s a pill to swallow! I thought, as I signed the paper. Buck Five Stars, anyway! How could she do this?!

From what I’d been able to glean from my network of contacts, the erstwhile member of my old herd had somehow turned public opinion in Manehattan against me; this in turn had caused the loss in profit that the hotel had seen. I couldn’t wrap my head around it; how could Five Stars, an earth pony with no truly outstanding attributes except an uncanny knack for annoying me, have managed to sway an entire metropolis against me?

Finishing my signature, I passed the notice back to the attorney. He looked it over, nodded, and rolled it up, putting a legal seal on it. “Our business is concluded, then. Farewell, Ms. Harvest Moon.”

I nodded curtly in reply and turned to leave, pausing only to grab my luggage from next to the door. I’d prepared for this day by packing my entire life into two large saddlebags, as well as a larger trunk that I secured to my back. While my lifestyle had been rather sedentary as of late, I was nonetheless an earth pony, which meant that my strength was still enough to carry several times my own weight on my back.

I walked towards the front door of the Shemareaton, all the while thinking, This is just a minor setback. There will be plenty of opportunities for a mare like me in cities beyond Manehattan. All I have to do is reach out for them…

With that in mind, I walked out the front door, for what would be the final time.

That is just the opening of her story, which describes her departure from Manehattan and events to follow… culminating in a HERD-inspired attack on her and another member of my first herd, Ember Iris, former lounge entertainer at the Shemareaton and now a superstar singer in Las Pegasus, who was on vacation in Ponyville with her herd. While the attack was ultimately unsuccessful, Ember suffered a broken wing and Harvest was gravely injured during the encounter when she… well, I’ll leave that story for her to tell. All I’ll say here is that we feared the worst when she wouldn’t wake up after the surgery.

Yes, I said ‘we’. Ember, Acacia, and myself stood vigil over Harvest for a full week following the attack. When I heard what had happened, I departed Manehattan promptly. As much as I’d detested her after being forced from my first herd, I never truly wished ill of this sort on her. And when I heard that she’d gotten so injured saving Ember’s life, I realized that I’d neglected to take the advice I myself gave within the same article I published her letter in—namely, to keep in touch with people from your past, lest you be denied the opportunity to do so in the future. I learned that lesson the hard way with Miral, and nearly had to do so a second time here.

Harvest is now recovering nicely, with Ember looking after her until she gets discharged from the hospital. I offered to recommend a Gentleman to her, one who specializes in physical therapy, and she said she’d definitely consider it, to my delight. After such a selfless act, we’ve made amends now—by which I mean not just me but all former members of my first herd (even Cayenne, who sent me a video recording of his own well-wishes to share with Harvest!). She has more than earned our forgiveness, and I will take care to keep in touch with her from now on.

I had thought the HERD crowd had been dealt with, discredited and dismembered to the point it was no longer any threat. My mistake. It grieves me greatly now that all former herdmates of mine may have to watch their collective backs, though in the case of Ember and Acacia, I’d remind those who may wish them ill that they’re backed by two stallions who will not hesitate to deal harshly—and very inharmoniously—with any threats to their mares or foals. Cross them at your peril, folks, as the remaining HERD members of Ponyville learned the hard way.

As for myself… two griffon veterans of the Cloven War stand ready to defend me, and make no mistake—even without them I’m no pushover. Having won a round with a griffon before, I’m fully capable of defending myself, and have plenty of friends in high places. Come after me or my former herdmates again, then in the words of my first human lover, I’ll make bloody sure you regret it.

But enough not-so-idle threats. For now… back to the story of me and John, picking up mere minutes after he’d given me my first time with a man and earth-shattering orgasm in the living room of my Canterlot apartment.

The First Gentleman

I awoke a half-hour later to find my head cradled in John’s lap, my body now covered with the throw blanket off the back of my couch. Still drifting a bit, I focused with some difficulty on his face, feeling like I was all but floating. “Welcome back, Five Stars,” he told me with a note of relief, kissing me on the forehead. “You kind of scared me there…”

I stared back at him in a daze. “S-scared you?”

“When you, well, screamed and collapsed there. I wasn’t sure why. May I assume it was good?” he asked with the air of a stallion who was trying to make sure his chosen mare had actually enjoyed herself.

My only response to that was to stare at him in wonder, then prop myself up and kiss him, full on the lips. That actually didn’t work too well at first as our faces and muzzles weren’t shaped the same (which is why one of the first lessons we teach Gentleman about intimacy is proper kissing technique!), but we finally figured it out and I thanked him properly, raining kisses on him. “You don’t know how much I needed that…” I told him, hugging him tightly and gratified as he reciprocated, snuggling me close as so few stallions had done over the years. “Are all men like you…?” I had to know, an eager note of hope in my voice.

“Are all mares?” he rejoined, running his hands over me again, visually marveling anew at the feel of my fur and exotic form beneath his fingers. “I’ve never seen a woman so eager or enjoy a small spot of foreplay so much!” he explained, his cheeks flushed.

I gaped at him in disbelief. That was just foreplay? He’d brought me to one of the most powerful climaxes I’d ever had! And how could a human mare not like this kind of treatment? “A ‘spot of foreplay’? I mimicked his accent for a moment, then proceeded to explain exactly why I was so astonished. “By Celestia, John, that was better than a lot of ruts I’ve had!” I laid another kiss on him and then began yanking at his shirt buttons with my teeth. “What you did for me… stallions almost never do!”

He looked back in some confusion but made no effort to stop or resist me as I began to undress him none too gently; I broke one of his buttons in my desperation to get those ridiculous garments of his off and see him for what he really was. “Never do what?” He watched me in some amazement as I all but attacked him, looking half-excited, half-worried as he perhaps wasn’t entirely certain of my intention—as disheveled and desperate as I was at that moment, I must have looked like a wild animal to him!

I spared him but another glance as I continued my efforts, finally freeing half his chest, the sweet and not unpleasant smell of his body mingled with the spiciness of his arousal all but wafting off him, making me even more heady. He really didn’t understand, and that just made him—and human men in general—even more desirable and endearing in my eyes! “Most stallions just want to rut a mare. We’re expected to see to their pleasure first! And they certainly don’t give oral!” I explained very shortly to him, eager to return the favor—I’d be the first mare to have a human in history, and whatever he was hiding in his pants, I now wanted it in my own muzzle, my mouth watering at the thought!

He blinked in genuine surprise both at my words and my strength as I all but shoved him on his back so I could yank his shirttail free. “They… don’t?”

“No!” I said very breathlessly, somehow retaining enough of my senses—Celestia knows how—to explain to him that oral was mostly reserved between mares or colt-cuddlers (and then I had to explain the latter term to him!). “Stallions will rarely do that for mares. I’ve been lucky that I’ve had a couple that would over the years, but most won’t. And they certainly can’t do what you can with your fingers!” I paused long enough to hold his hand up in my hoof, inspecting them up close. I’d initially found them a bit odd and spindly, but they were superb tools of pleasure! I could still feel them on me, caressing and probing me, stimulating me in ways no aura or even griffon talons ever had!

“Glad to be of service, then…” he stared at me in wonder again until I released his hand, at which point he made a show of lying back and putting his hands behind his head as I continued my efforts, letting me take the lead. “So tell me, then… are all mares this eager? You act like you’ve never been made love to in your life!”

“Not like this!” I repeated, now laying a line of kisses down his chest and belly before working on his ‘fly’, though I had no idea what to call it at that point; all I knew was that it was in the way, and these accursed fasteners they used on their clothes were very hard to figure out! “Haven’t… been rutted… in a… long time…” I had to tell him between breathless kisses, deciding to spare the remainder of my life’s story for another time. I’d gone without for so long it seemed like an entire year and a half of desire and need was now breaking free and seeking satisfaction all at once, and given this unexpected opportunity with this incredibly unlikely and exotic male, I wasn’t going to be denied! My self-imposed celibacy sentence had been served in full, and now…

And now, I would be the first to know the charms of a human male! He may not have had magic, but what he had done for me was magic as far as I was concerned, and I would return the favor in full.

Everything about him was enticing to me at that moment. His muscles were hard but the skin that overlaid it was deliciously soft and warm to my muzzle, nothing like I would have thought it felt. The short hairs on his chest and belly were odd but intriguing, a bit tickly but not prickly, and were surprisingly the same blonde color as his mane. I couldn’t seem to get enough of his scent, either, as the sweet/spicy/earthy combination that he had only served to heighten my arousal with every intake of breath—no joke, my nose hovering over his crotch alone was enough to make me dizzy.

And yet, it wasn’t just his body, his foreplay, or even his very alluring scent that was attracting me to him at that moment, or even my own desperation after a nearly-eighteen month drought. It was John himself. After all the time I’d spent with him, just talking and getting to know him, I well and truly liked him. He was different not just from ponies, but from many of the other humans I’d met. He was charming and clever, perhaps a bit odd and introverted at times as all artists and writers could be, but he was also genuinely friendly and interested in not just me, but my race and world in general. He’d drawn me out when no other pony could for well over a year, helped me rediscover a part of myself I’d all but buried…

And best of all, he liked me as well! Whether by happenstance or the influence of harmony, whether by chance or by mutual choice, the stars had aligned for both of us at that moment, and human or pony, for at least that one night we were truly meant for each other.

As philosophical as I’m being right now, and as turned on as the memories are making me, I hasten to add that I was not having such deep thoughts at the time! In truth, I don’t think my mental processes went much deeper than wanting to return the favor and wanting to get him inside me…

Of course, to do that, I had to figure out that fly of his, and frustratingly, he wasn’t helping me, teasing me by letting me struggle with it, watching in some amusement. “Having some trouble there, love?” he asked me, and I could only growl a bit in response. That damned clasp was giving me fits, too small for my hooves or teeth to work, and his bulge poking me in the face or the musky, spicy smell coming off it wasn’t helping matters. I finally solved it by simply giving it a good yank and breaking it.

His zipper came much easier, thankfully; though it was small I was able to get a grip on it with my teeth and yank him down. And after so much effort spent to get him undressed, I really wanted to see what he was packing! Apes, as a rule, weren’t said to be well-endowed after all, and humans were a kind of ape, though when used by my fellow ponies the title tended to be more derisive than anything else. The thought brought a chill to me—what if one of the reason men were so good at foreplay was as a form of compensation—because they were so small they couldn’t satisfy females otherwise…?

I got my answer quickly as I finally got his undergarment down (clothes inside clothes? Why?) and revealed his human stallionhood fully. It was different, but certainly not unpleasant to my eyes—a smooth and gently curved shaft, slightly tapered with no medial ridge or sheath, surrounded with short blonde fur and capped with a bit of a flared head… and yes, it was at least slightly smaller than the stallion norm. I had no idea if he was normal sized for a man or not (he was), but that was fine—I’d learned through many encounters that size wasn’t everything, and what he had was certainly sufficient for the task!

“Like what you see?” he asked me almost idly, his human organ twitching under my scrutiny. It was both exotic and alien to behold, though the former certainly had more sway on my psyche at that moment!

“Very much…” I told him honestly, giving it a tentative touch with my hoof. He twitched slightly away at that—because he thought my hooves might be too hard, but I quickly disabused him of that notion by gripping and giving him a gentle stroke, surprising him with how soft my hoof could be and how well it could grip. Despite the fact he had no sheath, the outer skin moved quite readily, and I was gratified to see his body tense under my efforts, his hips giving an involuntary buck. “And you…?” I asked as I experimented with his phallus, taking great care, observing his reactions carefully to different touches and motions. He seemed to most like pressure at the base and a squeezing motion as I stroked, so I began focusing on those.

“That’s… brilliant…!” he told me, using the word in a context I’d only heard once before, from a Trottingham native. “Didn’t think… your hooves… could do that!” he admitted to me, wrapping his fingers around my hoof, visibly surprised by its texture and gripping ability.

I grinned at that—it would seem we both had some surprises for each other! I think that was the first time I had the thought that humans and ponies were exceptionally compatible for such different species—our relative sizes were perfect for each other, and we seemed to go for some of the same things. “They’re still nothing compared to your fingers, John…” I told him almost wistfully, wishing I had that kind of dexterity—never mind sex, it would make writing and using tools so much easier if I didn’t have to use my mouth!

My mouth… I’d almost forgotten my earlier intentions, and my grin turned devilish for it. “Or your muzzle… but I’ll do my best!” I announced as I moved in close and gave the top of his organ its first lick.

He hadn’t been expecting it and took a sharp breath at that. “Five Stars… pl-please y-you don’t have to…” he began, trying to be a Gentlecolt even though I could hear the need in his voice, and it made me smile.

“But I want to…” I told him, enveloping his organ entirely, feeling his entire body stiffen as I did so and a faint cry escape his lips. I could sense every twitch and throb of his phallus, taste its salty muskiness—so similar to the taste of stallion, only (blasphemy!) better!—and best of all, feel his body all but writhe beneath me as he tried to restrain his thrusting hips. He loved it, and it long last it made me feel complete again for it. In an odd way, it was like I was back in Las Pegasus seeing to the entertainment and enjoyment of a guest again… and my own in the process, just as Rising Star had once told me all those years earlier. Those encounters had made me happy because I’d been helping someone else to have fun, seeing to my own in the process—and if both host and guest, man and mare were enjoying themselves, then wasn’t that what this was all about?

Like I said at the beginning of this article, it’s funny how some lessons have to be relearned over time. I had no idea what lessons he was taking from this, but he was clearly in great pleasure, his eyes going glazed as he watched me work. “Y-you keep that up, love, and I-I won’t last!” he warned me through gritted teeth.

I eased off, but only just, using long experience with the act to keep him on the ragged edge while I considered my next move. On the one hoof, he’d gotten me off orally, so it seemed fair to return the favor… on the other hoof, doing so meant that there’d be a wait of uncertain duration until he could rut me properly.

Then again, I was ascribing stallion stamina to him when I had no idea what the human refractory period was. Would he mate more like Miral and the griffons, each short duration events lasting less than a minute but literally a dozen of them in an hour? Or would he trade frequency for duration, as ponies (not always successfully) aspired to in their encounters?

Or was it none of the above? For all I knew, if I got him off now, he wouldn’t be able to come again for another day!

That worry cinched it—the opportunity was before me, so I would avail myself of it there and now, while we were both so turned on that there would be no way we could not go through with it and enjoy it! So reluctantly, I let him go, his organ slipping out of my mouth and his body relaxing fractionally as I did so, coming back down from the edge of orgasm I’d been keeping him. “Bloody hell…” he stared at me in a daze, his expression one of worship as I switched back to slowly stroking them. “That was brilliant! Are all mares like you? That was the best head I’ve ever had!”

I’d never heard that term before—‘head’?—but guessed it was slang for what I’d just did. “Not many, sorry…” I told him apologetically, even though I wasn’t sorry at all—if what I’d done was unusual in his world too, I might be able to use ability and willingness to do oral to keep males of both species wrapped around my hoof! “But there’s something else I’d like from you now, John…” I told him huskily, turning around to present myself again.

“My John Thomas?” he asked with a wry grin, before realizing that I would have no idea what that term meant. “I mean my twig and berries!” he tried again, pointing down at his lap.

I blinked again at that, though I got the image readily enough. Seriously, what was wrong with just calling them his manhood, I asked him? “Oh, you don’t like those? Then how about frank and beans? Maybe dobber? How about dick? Cock? Knob?” he recited a long litany of other slang terms before I finally silenced him by putting my hoof over his mouth.

“There’s only one thing I want to call it right now,” I told him salaciously, then emphasized my next words by turning back around and presenting my flank to him a second time, stepping over to straddle him while giving him the inviting wink with my marehood I’d already learned he liked so much—it was good to know my charms were appreciated by pony and human stallions alike! “In me!” With that, I lowered myself onto him, rubbing his shaft across the length of my opening, letting him feel the outer lips of my marehood, feel the heat and wetness within.

“So… d-do you treat all your alien guests this way…?” he asked breathlessly as I ground my hips against him, savoring the moment and the act to come. I may as well have been in heat for the way I was reacting then. I couldn’t ever remember being so eager to have a stallion inside of me outside of the times I was going through my heat cycle! Well, maybe excepting Braeburn…

“J-Just the ones who like seeing me naked,” I told him coyly, letting him position me properly, his rigid shaft now pointed right at my marehood, its tapered head gently prying me open and beginning to slip inside me with surprising ease…

And then, with a single push, he went all the way in, causing us both to gasp as he instantly sank into me, almost to the hilt—far further than a pony stallion would usually go when taking a mare from behind, which was generally no further than the medial ridge.

Words failed us both for a moment as we… well, settled in. “Blimey… you’re so… hot…” he told me at some length, and flattered though I was, I didn’t take his meaning until later, when we discussed it in bed afterwards—he didn’t (just) mean it in the figurative sense, he meant it literally—my body was very hot to him; it turns out ponies have slightly higher normal body temperatures than humans, and as overheated as I was on top of that, he felt it quite keenly.

Certainly quite fair, as I felt him quite keenly! The slight upward curve of his organ worked very well for me as it pressed and rubbed against the internal walls of my marehood, and his hands locked onto my flanks and kneading them just added some delicious seasoning to the whole affair. He began thrusting into me and before long we’d started to synchronize our hip motion; I pushed back as he pushed forward, trying to get as much of him in me as possible.

A minute passed, then two, then three. He’d already outlasted Miral and most stallions as I found myself all but swimming in a haze of pleasure again, not resisting as he pulled me back on top of him and then rolled me onto the side, where he could spoon me. His left hand clutched at my chest (I’d later realize he was doing something men would normally do with women, clutching at my nonexistent ‘boobs’, though it certainly worked for me too!) and dug into my fur like griffon talons while his right reached low and found my teats, fondling them quite happily, his fingers able to tweak and tease them quite deliciously.

He was pleasuring me three ways at once, and as if I needed any more evidence, that alone cinched it—human lovemaking was amazing!

I can’t pin down the exact moment I came—or when he did for that matter; I was so completely lost in the stimulation and utter ecstasy he was giving me. Our banter, our chemistry, the moment… it was all so perfect, and exactly what I needed to break out of my long drought and rediscover my long-suppressed sexual side. He told me afterwards I screamed his name, but all I can remember is a flash of brilliant light and a feeling afterwards that I was all but floating. All I knew as I drifted off again in its wake was this human stallion, this man—was my dream lover, one I never wanted to let go.

The Mind of a Man

Needless to say, that was not the end of that night or our time together. Just the beginning as we stayed in the living room after that, sleeping together on the rug since my bed wasn’t big enough for the both of us.

We alternated sleep with sex and snuggling, and even talked some during the latter, about everything from our anatomical differences to what our respective societies would say about us doing what we did—I was surprised and a bit appalled to hear that many humans would consider me an animal and our act wrong for it—while he was equally astonished to hear the story of my herds and lovers and just why I’d been in such a long drought.

“I had no idea…” he told me, snuggling me close—the gesture alone brought tears to my eyes when I realized he genuinely meant it and wasn’t only interested in sex. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I told him, unable to restrain a sniffle, my heart feeling a warmth and comfort it so rarely had before; only rare instances with Cayenne or Cruise Control. Make no mistake, I had given this kind of comfort more than a few times in the past myself, but had so rarely received it. “It was mine. I couldn’t deal with it, and I hurt myself, Miral and so many others after. I bucked up so badly that for a while there, I didn’t think I could ever have sex again, let alone with a non-pony.”

“And here you are with me,” he grinned like he was flattered. “I think you’ve atoned, love. And I’m honored you chose me for the purpose.”

I burrowed in even tighter against him at that. He was just so wonderful, and I wondered again what I’d done to deserve him. “I’m just honored you chose me!” I told him. “But I do have to ask… why? I mean, what do you like about me?” I was afraid to ask, but at the same time, I had to know.

“What, do you mean about you, or ponies in general?” he asked back.

“Well… both?” I invited him to explain.

He chuckled at that. “What’s there not to like? You’re fun, you’re pretty, you’re smart, you really took the time to get to know me when I wasn’t exactly projecting an aura of approachability… and far more up front than most girls I’ve known! I mean, if you were a woman I was interested in back on earth, I’d probably have to chat you up, wine you and dine you for months, constantly watch my speech and manners, and all in the hopes that you might decide I was worth seeing. Might even have to hide that I’m an author lest they think I don’t make much and wouldn’t be worth the effort. It’d cost me more than a few quid and there’d be no guarantee of success. But with you…? I can be myself. You like me for me and don’t have your standards so insanely high they can never be met. You don’t know how rare that it is sometimes back home.” His mood turned brooding for a moment.

I didn’t know what to say to that as he went on. “As for your race in general… well, again, what’s not to like? Your world is pristine, your cities gorgeous. You’re all so colorful and beautiful. You can fly, use magic, or grow crops far better than we can. Your eyes are large and expressive and very pretty to look at, and, well… you’re naked and you don’t care. It’s normal for you and you’re not so hung up on appearances or pretensions.”

I blushed again. I was flattered to be sure, and yet… “that’s not entirely true, John. Believe me, we have our share of pretentious ponies here in Canterlot. I’ve had to deal with more than my share as Delta’s manager. Do understand, we’ve been trying to put on our best face for you.” I reminded him.

“And us, you,” he agreed. “We heard about your skewed gender ratios and that you ponies were polygamous for it. Speaking for myself, I’ve had decidedly mixed luck with the ladies in the past, and when I heard this place had a four-or-five to one ratio of females to males, I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t kind of thought that this place might be a man’s dream, actually…”

That earned him an odd look. “Really?”

“Really,” he told me. “Looks like it wasn’t an idle thought. But tell me, Five Stars… What do you like about me? And what do they tell you about us?” he wanted to know.

I flushed at that, suddenly remembering some of the articles I’d read. “That you’re backwards and warlike, completely lack harmony and pollute your own world. That your lack of magic means you lack… well, souls,” I grimaced as I spoke. Why had I just told him that? We were warned in no uncertain terms not to question them on matters of religion, ideology, or history, and were casually discouraged from asking anything that was too direct or probing.

Then again, I’d just rutted him. What got more direct or probing than that?

To my relief, he took no offense as he chuckled and pulled me closer. “Well, with regards to lack of magic and occasionally warlike, guilty as charged, I’m afraid…” he told me, somewhat wanly. “We can be the most petty and prejudiced people imaginable when it comes down to it, and we can come to blows over some pretty ridiculous things… and yet, you can make a strong argument that it’s because of that we survive,” he told me, turning thoughtful.

I stared at him, uncomprehending. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said,” he shrugged, speaking in perfect earnestness. “We can’t control our sun, our moon, or our weather, and that means we have to be a pretty tough bunch to just take what our world can throw at us. Between blizzards, hurricanes, tornadoes, or just dealing with endless London fog, if we didn’t have the desire to conquer and compete all in an effort to reach better places, we’d still be living in caves…”

“I still can’t imagine that…” I shivered, unable to comprehend an entire world where the weather was wild, and celestial bodies moved of their own accord. I never did get used to the wild weather in the Gryphon Kingdom, something Miral had teased me about endlessly. For the first time, my thoughts cast back to him, and I felt a moment of guilt as I wondered what he would think of me now, bedding an alien primate in his place.

Never mind him, how did I feel? And more to the point, how would I feel the next morning? Was I going to freak like I did before…? “I just don’t understand how you could advance living in a state of constant conflict as you seem to,” I said to cover up my sudden nerves.

“Because it’s that conflict that drives us, love.” As if sensing my anxiety, he raised and kissed my hoof. “It’s what drives us to move forward, to learn and grow. To surmount our circumstances and reach better places. In order to evolve, we must be challenged as both individuals and societies. Otherwise, we’ll never change and eventually die out. And ‘harmony’ or no, I can’t fathom that that truth wouldn’t hold for your world either.”

I blinked. The physical and sexual pleasure he’d been giving me had been grand enough, but now he was adding intellectual stimulation to the mix! “But all the conflict you have… all those wars, all those deaths… is that really necessary?” I remembered what I’d read in the New Yoke Times.

He shook his head somewhat sadly. “Well, it’s true we’ve had some truly terrible wars in the past, but I dare say our propensity for it is exaggerated. Armed conflict is not normal or constant for my race any longer, at least outside of certain areas of the world. And it’s often not so much conflict as competitiveness. We love trying to one-up each other; we can and do make a game out of just about anything. We get very passionate about our sports and cheer on our local and national teams quite lustily. And come now. It’s not like you’ve had no conflict in your own world’s past. From what I could tell at that Museum, that war you had with the griffons was quite large. Surely you had ancestors of your own who fought in it…?”

I blinked, surprised again at the change of subject. “Well… one that I know of,” I admitted, though not proudly. “One of my distant ancestors was a unicorn mare. An archer in the Equestrian Army named Artemis Arrow.”

“Artemis?” He chortled like he somehow recognized the name. But how could he? “Oh, the irony…” He laid back and put his hands behind his head, looking like he was trying his hardest not to laugh.

“Irony…?” I echoed.

He gave me a lopsided grin, giving my mane an affectionate ruffle. “That a peaceful and supposedly harmonious race of herbivores makes reference to the goddess of bows and hunting from Ancient Greece? Or that she was also the goddess of virginity and you’re descended from a mare named after her, now in bed with me? Take your pick, love.”

My blush got deeper, both from embarrassment and that his point was valid; I had studied the Mulympian Gods in school and knew his characterization was correct. What was ‘Greece’, though? The name of the place they were originated, said in some circles to be the cradle of pony civilization, was Graze. “Well, um… it was a different time; threats were many and names back then tended to be a bit more… severe. Her medals remain in my family and from the one painting I saw of her, she looked a lot like me. Though I’m not sure how much she really fought. My grandmother said she was less a soldier than a spy…” I told him in embarrassment.

“A spy? Truly?” To my surprise, far from being horrified, that only piqued his interest further. “Well then, I would definitely like to hear more! I write spy novels, you know… and with as many different races and past conflicts as your world has, it would be fertile ground for new a epic of intrigue!” he told me eagerly. “Who knows, Five Stars… in my next novel, maybe I’ll even include a character based on you!” he suggested, his hand beginning to track lower on my belly again.

“Oh really?” My breath caught. “Do I get to be the sultry seductress then?”

“But of course!” he said brightly. “After all, all spy thrillers need a femme fatale. And if I’m truly to write a story based in your world, I might need to conduct some more research…” his voice trailed off lasciviously as his hand began to reach between my legs, causing my breath to catch as he found and rubbed my teats again, trading them back to hardness.

Despite my suddenly shaky breaths, I giggled at that. “Who am I to deny the wiles of an expert author?” I shifted my flanks towards him in offering again, feeling his malehood beginning to press against me again. “I have this new human lover, you know. He’s an amazing writer, and very good-looking!” I teased.

He acquired a lopsided grin. “Oh? And just who is this amazing and very good-looking writer?”

“You may have heard of him,” I grinned and flagged my tail, pushing back against him, inviting him to take me again. “He’s quite the charmer, and the first human to ever rut a mare…”

I’m going to leave off this article here, as I’d rather write about the events following that encounter and our remaining time together separately. But not, this time, because things went sour. Far from it in fact, though our parting was difficult when it finally came.

Looking back, that night I spent with him became something of an ideal for an average Gentleman’s evening with a mare. Sex and snuggling present in equal measure, taking the time to converse and really getting to know the mare he was with, providing as much comfort and companionship to me as intimacy…

He was the perfect Gentleman even before Gentleman existed, just by being himself… and being there for me when I was ready for him. Make no mistake, many stars had to align on both sides of the portal to bring us together like that, and yet it seems now like it was truly destined; like my entire life—and I daresay his—had been leading up to that one wonderful night. I didn’t know then where it would lead at that point any more than he did, but as I lay there with him, I swore to myself that it would not end badly; that I would remember the lessons of Miral and have no regrets the next day.

In the end, I kept that promise… but I’ll save that for next week’s article. He and the rest of our human visitors still had not quite a week remaining in their stay, and I intended to take advantage of my new human lover and our time together fully before he left!

Here you go, folks! Writing the chapter started off slow as I had to get myself back in the mindset of it, but once I did, it came pretty quickly. This is the second of a three-chapter arc regarding her time with ‘John’, whose real name I’m sure most of you can guess. And if you can’t, your first stop after reading this should be here: http://www.fimfiction.net/story/127231/changeling-roun

I’m sorry for the long layoff from this story, but my muse has been elsewhere for a bit. Hopefully this at least in part makes up for it! Plenty more planned, and hope you’ll be sticking with the story as we reach for the ending in just a few chapters. There will be one final Q&A session I’m already compiling questions for.

Thanks to the usual suspects of AJ_Aficionado, Denim Blue, Leo Archon and SIlent Woodfire for their prereads and feedback. A special shout-out goes to Leo Archon, who wrote a side story to Five Star Service I’ve officially canonized in this article. I edited it and can heartily recommend it, so if you’re interested, the full story of Harvest Moon’s fall from grace and rise to redemption is here:

Enjoy, folks! And I promise it won’t be eleven months until the next chapter this time! I intend to finish this story by year’s end.