“Thank you, Sugar Spice. Oh, and please pass my apologies to my appointments secretary, but I need my afternoon schedule cleared. And leave the coffee service behind, please.”

Dropping into a deep curtsy, Sugar Spice replied, “Yes, Your Highness. Of course, Your Highness. Will there be anything else?”

“No, but thank you for asking.”

The immaculately uniformed earth pony servant curtsied again before backing out the door and closing it behind her. Trixie kept her expression blank, torn between surprise at the unexpected deference Twilight’s staff displayed . . . and disquieting, distressing memories of her foalhood and her youth.

She felt her eyes widen a bit at Twilight’s softly-gusted exhale, then suddenly remembered a snippet of conversation from—was it just this morning?

I know how tired they both are of ponies treading on eggshells around them all the time, worried about saying, or doing, something that would “offend their Royal Dignities”. And how tired they are of the constant hovering around them. 'Would Her Highness like another cushion?', 'Does Her Highness want more pepper on Her salad?', 'Would Her Highness want Her shawl before She takes Her walk in the garden?', 'Perhaps Her Highness would care to look at this proposal more closely?'. I have to deal with that now, too.

The brooding alicorn blinked when Trixie softly murmured, having deduced the actuality, “That is neither sycophancy nor smarminess, you know. They do that out of respect, and love, for you.” If anypony would be able to recognize those differences, Trixie would.

Taking a sip of coffee, Trixie softly gazed into Twilight’s deep, purple eyes. “Remember how you felt about being Princess Celestia’s personal student? How you wanted to make her proud of you? Prove worthy of her belief in you?” Trixie wasn’t at all sure about any of that; she was purely hazarding guesses. After a few pensive moments, Twilight slowly nodded. Trixie then gestured with a forehoof towards the door, and, by implication, the entire castle. “They love you,” she simply continued. “Being part of your staff, your guard . . . it is the highest honor, the greatest privilege, to which they could ever desire to aspire. And their words, their actions, their obedience and performance . . . those are the only ways they have of expressing their devotion to you.”

Twilight wrinkled her nose as she took a sip of coffee. It was not that she thought Trixie was mistaken . . .

“You are afraid of becoming numb to that . . . of, in the beginning, taking that for granted, and then, as time passes . . . expecting that as no less than your due.”

The Princess of Friendship suddenly stilled, introspective blankness on her features. Something in her thoughts clicked; she roused with several blinks before meeting Trixie’s calm, understanding gaze. “Part of it is that I feel uncomfortable . . . unworthy . . . of being fawned over like this,” she haltingly explained. “Even when I was Princess Celestia’s personal student and protégée,” —Trixie was startled seeing the angry tightness to Twilight’s eyes at mentioning the Sun Princess— “while I’ll admit I was proud of that,” she softly blushed a moment, “I never felt, well, superior? Pretentious? Vainglorious?”

She paused again, marshalling her thoughts. “I never felt as if I were anypony special. I never imagined, let alone wanted, all of this.” She waved a forehoof about, implying, as Trixie had just done, the entire castle, then closed her eyes and lightly shuddered as she swallowed. “And I’m already starting to take things for granted,” she tremulously whispered, “so . . . does that mean that, one day, I’ll start——”

“No,” Trixie firmly interrupted, her voice sharp; sharp enough to startle the anxiety-ridden alicorn out of her reflections.

“But . . . but . . . how can I be sure?” Twilight sounded close to tears.

Trixie took a deeper swallow of her coffee before setting the cup down. “Nopony that is honest with herself when she “looks into her mirror”, concerned that, once day, she will turn into somepony she does not want to become, is likely to do so,” she calmly exposited. “But,” she assured as she stood up and gravely paced over to Twilight, resting a hoof on the alicorn’s shoulder as she gazed down at her, “mostly because your friends will not let that happen to you.”

Lower lip quivering, Twilight reached up, covering Trixie’s hoof with hers. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Taking a deep breath Twilight then gustily exhaled. “Hooo!” Smiling more naturally now, she asked, “So . . . where to begin.” She waited until Trixie reseated herself before asking, “I’ve been promising to answer your questions, but things seem to keep interrupting us.” Twilight cutely wrinkled her muzzle at that. “And, well,” she softly blushed, “I do have some questions of my own.” For a moment, it was a supreme struggle to quash at birth all the other questions about Trixie she had, her bitter argument with Celestia still fresh in her mind. “So . . . would you mind if I went first? Answering, not asking!” she hastily clarified.

Trixie’s tummy started feeling very quivery and peculiar, her breathing oddly caught for a moment. Her mouth started feeling dry, so she quickly took another swallow of coffee while waiting for the other shoe to drop with a clang. Ever since last week, since “The Discovery” (as she’d started mentally referring to that) Trixie kept whipsawing back-and-forth between hard reality and dare-I-dream-of desires. But, as time-and-time again, things kept interfering with, and obstructing, those tantalizing hopes, those wishful feelings were gradually smothered, and now, virtually extinguished . . . as all her other hopes, dreams, and aspirations had been. But, unlike all those other times . . .

Right across the table from her was the physical incarnation of those almost-quenched tantalizations. And, if memory served Trixie right, Twilight was just as —just how did Pinkie Pie put that? Ah, yes! Nervicited. Such a perfect description!— nervicited about their mutually-shared interests of “stress relief” as Trixie herself was.

How decidedly . . . odd. Rather like being acutely embarrassed and self-conscious, but without that being truly negative. What an extraordinary feeling!

She truly felt a spurt of delicious wickedness when she finally replied. “Trixie would not mind if you went first . . . as long as she still gets to see for herself how you look . . . after you’re “done”, afterwards.”

Twilight got the oddest look to her face, a combination of lightly blushing shyness and an equally rosy impishness.

Then Trixie looked very much the same when Twilight softly replied, “I . . . I was hoping you still might. That’s why I cleared my afternoon schedule.”

After Twilight topped off their cups and set the pot back down, she took her cup between hooves, leaned back in her chair and relaxed, eyes softly closed. “My earliest memories go quite a while back,” she began without preamble, “and were absolutely innocent and chaste. It was only a week or so after I’d broken my foreleg, and I hadn’t been sleeping well. Fidgety, fretful, and restless pretty much accurately described it. I don’t remember that time of my life very well —I was rather young at the time— but this incident remains very vivid.”

Trixie had grown very still at that, but relaxed as the oblivious alicorn continued.

“I don’t remember the nightmare —or even if there was one— but I remember waking up and being unable to move.” A soft little smile lilted her lips; taking a sip of coffee, she continued. “Somehow I’d managed, in my tossing-and-turning, to wrap myself up in the top sheet and blanket. Between the unwieldy, unfamiliar cast, being three-quarters asleep, and feeling trapped, I must have let out a blood-curdling shriek, because it wasn’t but a couple of seconds before Shiney burst into my room.”

Again she paused, and Trixie could see another soft, little smile play across Twilight’s lips.

“And then he did the sweetest thing,” she almost whispered. “Instead of just matter-of-factly “rescuing” me from the blankets, or calming me down and soothing me . . . he just melodramatically exclaimed, ‘Where did this caterpillar come from? Oh . . . wait . . . it’s not a caterpillar, it’s a Twiley-pillar. Hello there Twiley-pillar! Are you going to become a moth, or a butterfly?’.”

Spurting a soft giggle, she continued. “He sat down next to me, gently stroking me as I calmed down, fussing over the ‘cute lil’ Twiley-pillar’, until I was relaxed, calm and soothed.”

Twilight finally peered through slitted lids at her guest. “And felt safe.”

“He had to go to school the next morning, but that didn’t matter to him. After he helped me “out of my cocoon”, he stayed up the whole night with me. I slept soundly for the first time in weeks.” Taking a sip of coffee, she continued. “Oddly enough, I don’t recall actually remembering that at the time. But it must have left a deep subconscious impression on me, because several months later I was feeling unsettled and restless and unhappy. I knocked on his door —waking the poor dear up”; she tenderly smiled­— “and when he answered I, umm, well . . . sorta pouted and went ‘Wanna be a Twiley-piller’.”

Twilight gazed off into the mental distance, eyes softly closed. “Until I moved to The School for Gifted Unicorns, whenever I felt unhappy, scared, even just fussy, Shiney would always play ‘Twiley-pillar’ with me. He was so incredibly patient and kind. And when I was ready to “metamorphize” —come out of my “cocoon”— he’d always ask if I was a butterfly or a moth.”

“Well,” Trixie pointed out, “you have grown wings after all.”

Trixie looked surprised at Twilight’s reaction. Hadn’t she ever considered that?

“Sun and Moon!” the stunned alicorn finally exclaimed, as fits of giggles burst from her. “I have got to tell Shiney that the next time we’re together!”

Trixie smiled back, and then felt her eyes round in astonishment as Twilight gazed off into the distance again, for a sudden revelation hit her. Twilight is just speaking her innermost, intimate, personal thoughts, and utterly composed and relaxed doing so!

That might not sound astonishing at first blush, but this was Twilight Sparkle, who was, regardless of her being the Princess of Friendship, notorious for her social ineptitude. Science, mathematics, physics, chemistry, biology, logic, philosophy, magicks . . . yes, with those she exhibited absolute composure and competence. But —as Trixie herself was only too well-aware, having experienced it for herself— when it came to emotions, socialization, interpersonal relationships . . .

There was structure; organization to the former. It was all objective. But when it came to the latter, well . . . that was all subjective. Nopony could anticipate every possible permutation; nopony could rehearse every potentiality. And —again, as Trixie could personally attest— when faced with something outside of her comfort zone —which pretty much included everything outside of the pure sciences— Twilight floundered.

And pretty badly, too.

The amazed cerulean unicorn clearly remembered how Twilight had Sparkle-spazzed when attempting to talk to her last week; when she hadn’t had any opportunity to rehearse, plan, plot, scheme, flowchart, prepare . . . but here she was, relaxed and serene, and with words just freely flowing from her.

There was an odd tightness in Trixie’s chest at that realization; she felt her eyes prickle with tears. The hollow, singing emptiness that was always at her core felt . . . smaller, somehow. Ponies liked to talk (talk, not gossip; gossip, after all, would be boorish and crass) so Trixie had some idea of the number of times anypony had mentioned Twilight being this relaxed. In fact, the standard description of Twilight at her best was didactic, pedantic and bookish, while at her worst . . .

Trixie still had a difficult time picturing Twilight resorting to the “Want It Need It” spell just because she was afraid of being tardy on her report to Princess Celestia. She had an even harder time matching the composed alicorn here with the panicked, frazzled, semi-hysterical, desperate unicorn that the tales (it wouldn’t do to call them gossip, after all) described.

But this didn’t sound rehearsed to Trixie. There was a peculiar, particular cadence to a rehearsed speech, and this certainly wasn’t it. Which meant that Twilight was relaxed enough with Trixie to speak about something very personal, very private —very special and intimate— and be at utter peace and serenity while doing so.

“I really missed Shiney when I went to school; well, when I started boarded there, to be accurate,” Twilight wistfully continued. “Even more than my parents, he was my world. My BBBFF,” she said with a tender smile.

“Ahhh . . . ‘BBBFF’?” the puzzled unicorn inquired.

Twilight’s lips softly curved as she nodded. “BBBFF: Big Brother Best Friend Forever. Because he was . . . and still is,” she fondly declaimed. “Sometimes I think he’s the only reason I didn’t suffer socialization issues —well, worse socialization issues, I suppose— and become truly antisocially withdrawn. He had this special way of gently teasing me out of my obsession with reading and learning and helping me associate with the “real world”. And I never felt like I had to compete with him, prove myself to him, or feel worthy of his attention. We just . . . were.”

Princess Celestia, I’m not sorry to ask this, Royal Order or not, Twilight thought, before softly murmuring, “Did you have a brother? Or sister?” she asked, her tone just idly curious, not at all prying.

When long seconds passed in total silence, Twilight finally opened her eyes before sipping her coffee, glancing out of the corner of an eye at Trixie. There was tightness to her eyes, her muzzle a bit whiter, a tenseness to her body. Bingo! Twilight thought, recalling past times her unicorn friend had reacted the same whenever her family —well, it did seem just her mother, until just now— had been mentioned.

The longer the time passed in silence the worse Trixie started feeling; a few seconds of silence was easily explainable as a thoughtful pause, but almost a minute? That was unexplainable as any mere “contemplative moment”! Her belly was now churning instead of the shivery tingles of just moments ago, her blood like ice instead of sun-warmed water. Yes. Yes, she did have a brother, and she hated him with every fiber of her being even as she pitied him with all her heart and soul. But the loathing she felt for him was nothing at all compared to the loathing, the abhorrence —the fear and dread— she had for M.m.mother.

“Hey.” Twilight’s soft voice startled her, so lost in the deep darkness of her thoughts; she jerked so sharply that coffee sloshed out of her cup, and spilled onto the immaculate white linen tablecloth. Trixie’s face glowed in humiliation, then burned brighter as Twilight just soothed and dismissed the shameful accident and staining.

“Hey,” Twilight repeated. “So now we’re even,” she said with a grin.

Wha’? Trixie’s self-recrimination was interrupted by bafflement. Even? Even from what?

Seeing her bewilderment —which was a vast improvement from her self-mortification— Twilight grinned even wider . . . which confused Trixie to no end. “‘First date jitters’, remember? When I did a spit-take all over your tablecloth?”

Braced for patronization or condescension, that was the last thing Trixie expected, and a cleansing spurt of giggles burst from her, astonishing Trixie when that cleanly swept the feeling of disgrace from her as if it were nothing.

Gentle warmth spread throughout the pleased alicorn, thrilled and ecstatic at figuring out how to cheer up Trixie. Her showpony friend, Twilight was rapidly concluding, was much more complex than anypony had ever imagined . . . or —worse— than anypony had ever bothered imagining.

Topping off both their cups Twilight then picked up the thread of conversation once more. “I really missed being a ‘Twiley-pillar’ at school,” she admitted. “It’s kinda hard to explain,” and then she paused, gazing at Trixie, “No. No, I think that you’ll certainly understand,” she declared, which rekindled that oddly nice warmth inside Trixie. “Being a ‘Twiley-pillar’ wasn’t a game; well, just a game. It made me feel safe. Secure. I suppose it comes to no surprise to you,” she directly addressed her friend, “that my mind never really “shuts down”. It never really does except for when I’m deeply asleep. Even if I’m exhausted and just plop into a chair, close my eyes and try relaxing . . . the wheels keep spinning, the gears keep revolving.

“Except when I was a ‘Twiley-pillar’.”

Trixie’s eyes rounded a moment, then narrowed in deep thought. Without realizing she had, her head nodded once in mingled understanding and agreement.

“I didn’t understand that. Not back then, anyways. All I knew was that I missed something that filled a need deep inside me. Missed that badly, in fact. Thankfully —thankfully!— by then I’d gotten reasonably proficient at levitation. It took a few hit-and-miss attempts, but I quickly learned how to snugly roll myself up into a ‘Twiley-pillar’. It wasn’t exactly the same,” Twilight wistfully sighed in remembrance, “But it did manage to accomplish what I needed at the time.”

“I still sleep my best when snuggled in my blankets,” she admitted. “It’s comfortable, and comforting. And then . . .” she paused, and the tips of her ears and the points of her cheeks lightly pinked. Trixie’s left ear swiveled forwards at the pause, as she felt her curiosity peak. “And then,” Twilight repeated, “there came puberty.” Trixie’s eyes rounded, nostrils lightly flared.

“Well, to be scrupulously accurate,” Twilight revised, “Not mine, but Shining Armor’s.”

Trixie abruptly stilled, but rapidly relaxed as Twilight continued. “Early on, especially the first couple of years, my mom and dad would regularly visit during the weekends.” Twilight paused a moment, feeling a familiar ache in her heart. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents, because she most certainly did. But her thirst for knowledge —driving obsession, to be perfectly accurate— coupled with her bonding with Princess Celestia —who had become, for all intents and purposes, a second mother to her— had wound up with her relationship with her parents morphing from love to fondness.

That had to have been obvious to her parents, and it had to have been painful for them. But, if so, they’d never said a word to their daughter; never made her feel guilty about her enormous love of, and thirst for, knowledge.

And these last few years, after she’d relocated to Ponyville and actually started learning about, experiencing, and maturing on, the matter of friendship, she’d rekindled her relationship with Night Light and Twilight Velvet. At times Twilight mourned those lost years, but, as she’d learned the hard way, the pony you are today is a result of past experiences; change something in the past, and who knew what effect that would have on who you were now.

Picking up the thread again, she continued. “Mostly they were eager to hear about my week: what I’d learned; how I was feeling; was I eating well; was I sleeping well; had I made any new friends,” she wrinkled her nose at that last one. “But they also volunteered a lot about what was happening with them.” Twilight paused, then guiltily confessed, “I’m afraid they had to “volunteer” information, because, to be blunt, I was so monofocused, and so self-centered, that my studies were my world.”

“Trixie . . . Trixie can relate to that,” the unicorn haltingly interjected. “About being monofocused and self-centered about something that meant the world to her.”

Twilight waited a bit, silently encouraging Trixie to continue. But when it became obvious she had said all she was going to say, Twilight took several small sips of coffee before continuing.

“One of the things they “volunteered” was the difficulties of dealing with a colt growing into a stallion: puberty. The mood swings, the emotional surges, bouts of crying, aggression. Identity crises, extreme sensitivity . . . the works. That finally got me thinking . . . I was going to go through puberty at some point myself.”

Twilight sheepishly grinned as Trixie startled herself with a burst of giggles, finally smothering them behind her hooves. “Yup, you guessed it,” the unabashed alicorn cheerfully admitted. Pumping the air with both hooves she caroled, “Research Time!”

Trixie abruptly stilled a moment, as an epiphany struck her hard, as she compared how tense, how anxious and insecure she had felt around Princess Twilight during brunch, versus how relaxed and at ease she felt now. Well, relatively “relaxed and at ease”, that is. There was still that desperate eagerness to be liked, that anxious fear of falling short, of making mistakes, of being humiliated and ashamed. But unlike virtually every second of every waking day, those feelings were significantly in the background at the moment.

Noticing Trixie’s expression, Twilight cocked an interrogatory brow as one ear swiveled forwards. Lightly shaking her head in negation, Trixie then took a sip of coffee before smiling, gesturing with her muzzle for Twilight to continue.

Well, she really hadn’t expected an answer, but Twilight relaxed nonetheless when Trixie just relaxed and smiled. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t any experience with those “off-into-space” moments herself, after all!

“And, ah . . . how did research go?” Trixie inquired.

Softly blushing in memory Twilight then grinned like an unrepentant urchin. “By then I was reading, and comprehending, at entry-year university level,” she unassumingly stated. “So neither Princess Celestia,” and again Trixie caught the momentary tightness around Twilight’s eyes at that name, “nor my teachers or librarians, saw any necessity to restrict my access to anything in the Royal Canterlot Library, save for actual spell books and the actual Restricted Area.” Twilight grinned again, purple eyes sparkling at Trixie’s rounded eyes and lightly jaw-dropped mouth. Then she laughed at Trixie’s dumbfounded whispered, “Oh my!” Trixie’s expression was mingled dread and amusement, the sort of look one might have seen when noticing Ponydora about to open her box and being unable to say anything in time.

Twilight gaily laughed, seeing Trixie’s face. “Yup! You guessed it!” Still grinning, she cheekily continued. “A whole new world opened up for me then. Granted,” she more soberly explained, “it was all still completely objective. Academic. And an awful lot didn’t make sense at the time. Like intercourse.”

Trixie felt her face grow very hot, and hastily took a deep swallow of coffee, hoping to hide her blushing discomfiture from Twilight.

“I mean, I understood the mechanics,” she detachedly explained, “and the reasons, and necessity, behind that. I just couldn’t understand why anypony would want to do that. I was like, ‘Ick! How messy and intrusive’.”

She couldn’t help herself; Trixie felt herself grow breathless at that, covering her mouth with a hoof to smother burgeoning giggles.

“I guess part of me understood that a lot of it wouldn’t make sense until I’d actually gone through puberty myself. And I’ll also admit that, based upon a lot of what I’d researched, I was wishing I could find a “no-puberty/stay filly” spell. Alas, however, there wasn’t, and isn’t, one. However . . .”

Twilight trailed off, and Trixie could tell, this time, it was most definitely a theatrical pause. “However, in addition to all the textbooks, monologues and papers were other references. And those weren’t just dry facts and figures. These dealt with sexuality. Biological, erotic, physical, emotional, social, and spiritual feelings and behaviors. Intimacy, sensuality, orientations and preferences . . .

“Fetishes.”

Twilight was utterly serious now as she continued. “It was during that time that I learned about such things as bondage, and self-bondage. And while a lot of what I’d studied didn’t quite make sense to me —and, well, wouldn’t, until I finally did go through puberty”; she delicately shuddered— “a lot of things “clicked” when I researched those two. And when I finally did hit puberty, I was awful glad that I had read up on them, because, I have to admit,” she blushed, ducking her head a moment, “puberty put an entirely different, additional perspective on them!”

Trixie just continued listening, both enthralled at Twilight’s stories, flattered and honored at her willingness to share such deeply personal history with her . . . and no little bit of thrumming warmth deep in her core.

“Those reference books did more than just answer questions,” she continued, “but also kindled, and aroused —no pun intended— a great deal of curiosity, and desire to explore and experiment. Especially the ones that were, ah . . . illustrated.”

Trixie’s eyes rounded, feeling her breath catch, her ears flipping back and forth and feeling unusually warm.

“At the time, that drive of mine was all objective. I didn’t feel feel, you know? And some of the illustrations and details were, erm . . . well, a bit squicky to me. But as for the restraints? Gags? Blindfolds and the like?” Twilight gamine grinned.

“It did make it a bit difficult with having Spike to take care of,” she admitted. “He really was very much a baby dragon then, and although I had a nursemaid for him while I was in classes, I took care of him once I was back home.”

“Home?” Trixie asked.

“Not my parent’s home,” Twilight clarified. “My quarters in the Castle. Canterlot Castle.” When Trixie nodded, the reminiscing alicorn continued. “Especially for a two to three month time period, when I was experimenting on an almost daily basis.” Twilight’s cheeks grew rosy. “I wound up asking Princess Celestia if I could have a small hooflocker, with magick wards,” her cheeks grew rosier, and her ears joined in. “I explained that as wanting something I could keep things in, something that Spike couldn’t get into. Which was the truth in a way,” she grinned. “By the end of that experimental period I had quite a bit of hoofmade things: several gags, blindfolds, cuff-style restraints . . . after that burst of experimentation, though, I pretty much went back to just the now-and-again, stress-relieving comfort and security of just rolling up in a soft, thick blanket.

“Like I said earlier, puberty put a slightly different spin on things,” she confessed, another quick tide of crimson washing over her face and muzzle. “Oddly enough, though, even with all my earlier research, I still didn’t put “two-and-two” together for the longest time. All I remember is that, so gradually it never registered, being a “Twiley-pillar” at times was different: instead of simply being just stress relieving, I’d find myself feeling fidgety-squirmy, my tummy feeling tight, warm and tingly. And as more time passed, subconsciously I understood that when I was using my hoofmade items, and really restraining myself, those nice feelings got even nicer.”

By now Trixie was starting to feel a gentle warmth in her belly as well, a subdued heat that abruptly flared when she saw Twilight fidget-squirming in her chair. “Ah, T-trixie?” Twilight stuttered, and then the stunned unicorn felt her belly really start roiling as the flushed alicorn swallowed before licking her lips, face beet red, “Would you like to see?”

Trixie sent out a silent, yet utterly sincere, prayer of thanks, that they hadn’t encountered anypony on the way to the lowest level of the castle, for both of them had the oddest expressions on their faces. We must look like fillies about to peek at our crushes as they shower, she thought. We certainly don’t need lanterns; our faces are bright enough to light the way!

They stopped just outside an unobtrusive door, but Trixie’s mane started standing up, sensing a tremendous amount of energies nearby, a sensation confirmed as Twilight spoke up.

“This is my laboratory,” she explained, as her horn softly glowed, light magenta aura coruscating along the length. Invisible sigils on the door’s surface gleamed as they luminesced in response; but that was the only visible sign. “Come with me.” At that, Twilight simply paced through the door.

Oo-okay. The surprised unicorn took a deep breath, trying very hard not to imagine getting stuck in a solid stone door while only halfway through, then —at a considerably faster pace than Twilight’s— passed through the door and into the room behind, and then she felt her jaw try to drop.

On the one hoof, the Laboratory —and, yes, exactly as with the Library, Trixie could only mentally capitalize ‘Laboratory’— wasn’t as big as the Library (see?). On the other hoof (isn’t there always the “other hoof”?) Trixie hadn’t seen such a large, and extremely well-furnished, laboratory since her school days. Slowly roving her eyes about, the awestruck unicorn took in her surroundings. Neat-as-a-pin, well organized (what a surprise) and exquisitely designed, Trixie quickly saw the method behind the architectural composition: each of the major Sciences had their own particular section, with all the appropriate and/or necessary equipment readily available.

Glancing over at Twilight, Trixie expected to see the same sort of quiet pride as she’d seen displayed with the Library. Instead, her alicorn hostess was standing there with a rather different expression: hopeful longing mingled with hesitant shyness. Trixie had no idea what she must look like, but she was pretty sure that Fluttershy would be ecstatically squeeing at the butterfly swarm that was spawning in Trixie’s belly. Nonetheless, Trixie didn’t understand why they were in a Laboratory, of all places!

Twilight must have seen Trixie’s puzzled expression, and either guessed, or deduced, the reason behind it. “I got tired of having to be sneaky when I wanted, erm . . . privacy. So when I designed my lab . . .” Trailing off for a moment, Twilight’s horn again softly glowed, and this time, instead of a nondescript door glowing with sigils, a floor-to-ceiling bookcase silently revolved ninety degrees, revealing a yawning blackness behind.

Feeling a touch nervous, Trixie nevertheless followed Twilight into that unlit abyss. She felt a very unsettling, extraordinarily brief, moment of nausea, similar to the feeling when, as one is climbing stairs, you take one too many. At the same time, gentle illumination replaced shadow.

Against her will, Trixie felt her eyes round, at the same time her breathing quickened. Slowly turning in place, silently examining the room, Trixie somehow immediately grasped the purpose and intent of this very private room. Everything was immaculately spotless, exquisitely organized.

It was a perfectly round room, with a small rectangular alcove, at one end. There were three small wardrobes, two small chest of drawers, several pieces of, well, furniture . . . sort of . . . a sawpony, a . . .

Trixie’s head whipped back, her eyes locking on the sawpony, for it was a peculiar-looking sawpony indeed. In fact, it resembled a great deal like . . .

“Twilight Sparkle!” Trixie yelped in outrage . . . and acute embarrassment. “Did you . . . how dare you . . . how did you,” she spluttered. There was no mistaking that sawpony, for she had an exact duplicate disassembled and stored in her special trunk. Or, more accurately, the original was stored in her truck, and this was the duplicate!

Scuffing a forehooftip on the floor, tracing circles, Twilight’s head seemed almost about to be drawn into her shoulders. “It . . . when I saw it . . . you . . . it . . .,” she hunched even more, “I just wanted one, too,” she whispered, barely audible.

How her face managed not bursting into flames, Trixie had no idea, for she only used the sawpony for, ah . . . “special occasions”, and, unlike the straightjacket and bandages, not for “stress relief”. “You are sooo going to pay for this!” the furiously blushing unicorn vowed, then felt the oddest sensation as Twilight just peeked up at Trixie through thick, lowered lashes and nodded.

Trixie found herself torn between fulminating anger, acute embarrassment, and curious anticipation. She was about to tear a strip off of the obviously-repentant alicorn, and make her swear a vow to never spy on Trixie again, but paused before doing more than taking a prefatory inhale. This particular spying incident had to have occurred a couple of months ago, and while that still irked and upset Trixie, Twilight had, just yesterday in fact, apologized for having spied, along with the implied vow to never do so again.

Mock scowling at her once-and-now-former adversary, Trixie “menacing” shook a forehoof at her. “Mark my words: You . . . Will . . . Pay!” she theatrically hissed, like the stereotypical villain in a puppet play.

Twilight nervously chuckled, surprising Trixie, because she honestly couldn’t tell how much of that nervousness was playacting back, and how much was sincere. Then a look of intense shyness suffused Twilight, who resembled, at the moment, a very young filly working up the courage to ask a colt to dance with her at a school social. “Would . . . would you like to see the most special way I restrain myself?”

If Twilight could have heard the way Trixie’s heart suddenly accelerated, she wouldn’t have needed any vocal or visual reply. Trixie’s mouth felt a bit dry, her tummy was still jumpy-nervous, but now she was also intensely curious. No sooner had Trixie nodded then a look of barely-suppressed excitement, mingled with shy impatience, illuminated Twilight’s face.

“I should warn you,” Twilight cautioned as she stopped in front of a well-worn but still sturdy trunk, “it’s a bit, ah . . . well, not extreme, exactly. Elaborate. Yes, elaborate! That’s the word,” she anxiously prattled as she drew the trunk closer to the middle of the room, the floor there of exquisite hardware parquet.

Trixie silently watched as the fidgety alicorn opened the trunk, removing the top inner tray and setting that to the side before removing a rather odd, semi-bulky, black bundle from within. As she settled it on the floor Trixie was quite shocked, because, unless she was completely mistaken, that wasn’t fabric . . . it was leather.

Now it wasn’t as if leather was unknown, or taboo (even though it made some ponies queasy because of the source), but it was rare, and usually quite expensive. And Trixie’s expert eye easily could see this was very high-quality leather indeed, flawlessly dyed a smooth, semi-gloss black.

As Twilight finished preparing . . . it —for Trixie had no idea, really, what it was at the moment— she gazed back over her shoulder at Trixie, visibly seeking assurance that her unicorn friend wasn’t being repulsed or appalled. “I haven’t done this in a while,” and Trixie was startled hearing the wistful desire in her voice. “I hardly ever have any free time anymore.” She paused a moment, looking into Trixie’s eyes. “I meant what I said: it’s pretty elaborate, and pretty restrictive. Are you OK with that? I’m not pushing you into anything, am I?”

Heat expanded from deep within Trixie. Twilight had never been noted for dissembling, and Trixie could so plainly see the hunger in the anxious alicorn’s eyes. Fear, as well. Fear of Trixie perhaps deciding Twilight was a freak after all. In fact, a wealth of complex emotions could be seen in those depths, spanning from fear and dread, through angst and nervousness, and heading through shyness and, as well, a twinkling of wickedly delicious, shared naughtiness. And, having considered that, Trixie was more than certain that her eyes were reflecting the very same.

“Trixie must admit that she had no real idea where “this”,” she gestured with a forehoof to the black bundle, “is going . . . other than it will accomplish a similar result as Trixie’s straightjacket does.” Blushing more than a bit at that, Trixie assured, “Having said that, however, Trixie must confess to a growing curiosity to see.”

Delicately shivering, Twilight returned to her task. That “bundle” seemed to be composed of multiple, attached sections. As Twilight’s horn softly glowed, so did, one at a time, parts of the bundle. The front third draped forwards, while the back two-thirds, which was split down the middle, was placed at either side. This revealed a base of sorts at the bottom, which resembled a small, rectangular-shaped, padded, leather-covered mattress.

“Well . . . here we go,” Twilight said, an audible quiver to her voice.

Carefully positioning herself atop the padded base, Twilight wriggled fore- and hind-legs as if to lay down, upright on her barrel. As she folded her legs and settled her weight down, Trixie saw how the mattress had been designed with recessed grooves for the lower half of her limbs, and also saw, by the magenta light of the aura touching them, two wide straps being fastened sideways over her lower limbs.

As the right- and left-half now glowed and moved, Trixie’s eyes rounded. The two halves met at Twilight’s back, the seam running down the spine from shoulders down to dock, with her tail sticking through an opening barely big enough for that. A zipper glowed; the soft rasp as it secured the halves sounding startlingly loud. Twilight wriggled a bit, getting the leather adjusted, and then a set of straps and lacing tugged and tightened, until the leather fit almost like a second skin.

At that point, Twilight gazed back at Trixie, purple eyes both smoldering yet still anxious as well. Nervously licking her lips, she took a deep breath before levitating an item from the top inner tray that was sitting nearby on the floor. Trixie’s ears flicked forwards, hearing a barely-audible “Well . . . here we go,” that she was virtually certain Twilight hadn’t meant to be heard.

As it passed by Trixie, she got a quick glimpse of it. It appeared to be, once again, made of leather. The main part resembled a semi-flexible truncated cone, with a series of straps attached to it. She got a much better view of it when it stopped in front of Twilight.

In front of her muzzle, to be precise.

Opening her mouth wide, Twilight guided the wider base of the cone over her muzzle. Trixie had a moment to see something resembling . . . a sphere? . . . inside the cone, before it was drawn up into position. With an ease of obvious long-practice the straps snaked around Twilight’s head; buckles were threaded; straps drawn tight and firmly buckled.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Twilight delicately shuddered, nostrils flaring. A moment later, and the front third of whatever-you-called-this-thing was drawn up and over Twilight’s head. A zipper rasped, sealing the base to the rest of the body, then, as before, straps and laces were buckled, tugged and tightened.

Trixie’s mouth felt unaccountably dry, even as her chest hammered from her pulse. By the time Twilight had finished, the only visible parts of her were eyes, nostrils, tail, and horn, the sleek, supple leather covering her almost like a second skin. And, even as she watched, a form-fitting blindfold settled over her head, completely covering her eyes. The body-molded leather momentarily creaked a little, as Twilight shifted inside, settling in and getting comfy, although stars above! Trixie had no idea how anypony could possibly be comfortable in that. Although . . .

Maybe she was a bit premature in that assumption. Yes, it did appear horribly confining, yet, now that she pondered the matter —which the rapidly growing-in-curiosity unicorn was most intently doing— as she slowly paced around the leather-encased alicorn, perhaps this felt more like an all-body straightjacket. Of one thing she was positive: there was no way Twilight would be breathing that slowly, that regularly, if she was in discomfort, fear, or pain.

Huh, she thought a few minutes later, I suppose Trixie should have asked what happens after? How long was Twilight intending to stay cocooned? She almost stumbled at that; was that what this was about? An elaborate cocoon? She’d have to ask, later on. In the meantime, curiosity was still pulling at her. Stepping over to the trunk she gazed inside, but the trunk itself was empty. The tray, however . . .

There was a leather article that looked like a cross between a supple hood and a muzzle, with the obligatory straps and lacings to secure it. Trixie had no idea what the purpose of it was for. There were a few other oddments that, like the muzzle-hood, were puzzling and unfamiliar. Then there was a neck pouch underneath . . .

Trixie abruptly stilled, eyes slowly rounding into enormous saucers. Trixie’s horn glowed a light pink, as did the pouch as she lifted it from the tray and suspended it before her eyes. She knew this pouch!

She felt herself lightly trembling as she undid the drawstring then lifted out the contents, sharply inhaling as it appeared from within . . .

Hovering alongside the now-empty pouch was a steel dispersion ring.

Trixie hadn’t gotten more than a momentary glimpse of that at the time, being a bit, ah . . . preoccupied. But she’d certainly seen the neck pouch, and Trixie couldn’t imagine Twilight owning more than one with that specific design. Trixie quickly glanced over her shoulder at the tightly confined alicorn. Twilight had said the ring she’d used on Trixie was her personal one. Had she just tossed it in her “special trunk” —Trixie lightly twitched her coat; she had a “special trunk”, too, after all— and had forgotten it was there?

Her eyes began gleaming brighter, her pulse throbbed harder, faster. Gravely pacing over, she stopped right in front of Twilight. Revenge is sweet! she mentally giggled, not really vengeful, but nevertheless wriggling in anticipation. Wide, glittering eyes followed the path of the ring up . . . and over Twilight’s horn . . . and then finally down, grinning as leather abruptly creaked and strained.

The ring lightly flashed as Twilight tried casting a spell. Then flashed brighter, then brighter yet. Trixie had no experience with dispersion rings —well, other than the night six days ago, that is— but, even so, she could easily sense the powerful intensity of the spells the ring was aborting.

Suddenly, all sense of teasing, of one-upping, of legitimate payback vanished. She stood frozen there, feeling like a heel. Twilight had trusted Trixie! Had called Trixie her friend. Tears filled her eyes; her vision blurred. This isn’t right! she silently wailed. But, before she could right her wrong . . .

Twilight gave a deep breath . . . then another. And as her breathing settled into the gentle rhythm of serene tranquility, Trixie was positive she’d heard —albeit quite muffled— a low, deep hum of bliss.