“Babies take a lot of work, and some ponies are just not cut out to handle the responsibility.”

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

Groaning out my best imitation of a zombie mating cry, I responded to my sudden and very much unhappy awakening by rolling over and pulling my cloud-pillow down over my head. It was a vain attempt to drown out the robotic beeping of my alarm clock, but the effort it would take to drag myself to the side of the bed, reach over to my end table, and bop my alarm clock to make it stop was beyond my power.

First and foremost, I am not a morning pony. If I can, I enjoy avoiding mornings like the plague. Wake me up when I’m good and ready after the time has passed from a triple digit to a quadruple digit number. Fail to do so and—

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! the alarm clock doubled its volume, as if knowing I was trying to ignore it.

I let out another loud groan, hoping against hope that this morning would be different, that the alarm clock would just malfunction, shut-up, and let me rest in peace. Just stop its endless—

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEE—

The alarm clock won. As always. Snarling with frustration, I lunged sideways and brought my hoof down violently on the cloud-clock’s alarm killswitch, silencing the damnable thing. Quietly, I wished striking something made of solidified clouds made a more significant noise than a quiet puff. It was no fun hitting anything when it felt like you were just pounding soft fluff.

No longer laying in a proper sleeping position, I was forced to roll out of bed, stretching neck, legs, wings, and back with a few quiet grunts and a loud yawn. That taken care of I shambled tiredly to my little cloud-vanity. Sitting before the mirror, I met the bleary-eyed gaze of a pegasus mare. Golden mane was strewn crazily across her caramel-orange face, obscuring one wine-red eye behind its luscious color.

Yep, that was me.

Opening the drawer of my vanity, I dug out a brush and got to work tidying my mane into a more appropriate form. Sweeping it all into more or less one direction out of my eyes, I appeared much more presentable as I rubbed at my still-sleepy face, stifling another yawn.

Wanting no more than to climb back into the warm embrace of my bedsheets and dream the rest of the day away, I was forced to shove those thoughts away (a selfless sacrifice if ever there was one) in favor of getting my day started. Whether I liked it or not, I did have work today. Gaining momentum, I stepped into the hallway and into the bathroom, finding it thankfully unoccupied.

Locking the door behind me, I trotted to the shower and pulled back the curtain to find that I was happily its first customer of the day.

‘Great gusts!’ I thought, reaching to the faucet, ‘Maybe I can finally get some nice warm water for a change instead of having that little, fat-feathered—’

Except I didn’t get warm water as the faucet slid open. I got cold water right in my face as somepony had angled the shower head off to the side, aimed right at whosoever might be unlucky enough to turn on the water.

Sputtering against a jolt of shock at being struck in the face by an icy blast of liquid, I fumbled with a spew of curses as I wrenched the faucet back closed. The water cut off quickly, leaving my head drenched and dripping with chilly water.

A rancorous burst of giggles came from the other side of the door. I knew only one little lard-bellied monster that could make such a noise.

“Reuben!” I snarled, turning and tearing the door open to the sight of a little orange and brown block of lard zip down the hall with a sound of beating wings.

Snapping mine open, I rushed after the little insect, zooming down a hallway, around a bend and into the kitchen. My mother hovered by the stove, cooking a bland-smelling blend of cloud-grown vegetables in a pan. Flipping through today’s newspaper, my father sat at his spot at the table. Both parents looked up as the little flying lardball and I zipped into the room.

“Mo-o-om! Healthy Skies is chasing me!” Reuben called as he buzzed on his stubby wings to my mother, seeking safety as he hugged her belly like a nursing foal.

“Don’t chase your brother, sweetie,” mom chastised half-heartedly, her tone almost tired of the routine.

“He messed up the shower so it hit me in the face!” I snarled back, crossing my forehooves as I hovered, not daring to pursue the little lardass further now that he’d found his safe zone. That was fine with me, I could just pound him later when mom wasn’t around to be his little haven.

“Sweetie, how old are you?” mom asked, sighing as she and dad turned back to cooking and reading respectively. My brother, still using my mom as a living shield stuck his tongue out at me. I gave him a low growl that only bolstered his serpent’s grin.

“Seventeen,” I snapped back, already knowing where this train was going, “but that—”

“No buts,” she cut in, “You’re five years a grown mare now,” she continued her rote, stirring the chopped sky-veggies in the frying pan, “if your brother does something you don’t like—”

“‘Come tell you,’” I finished, only half trying to keep the mocking tone from my voice as I turned and headed back to the shower, “Ugh!”

“Yeah!” my brother sneered, “and if you don’t like it you can move out!”

I gave him a sharp huff over my shoulder, the kitchen disappearing around a corner. Yeah, I’m a grown mare still living with her parents, big deal. Working part time at the hospital doesn’t pay a whole lot. Especially when the cost of medical school drains my wages dry.

Groaning as I did my best to shake the cold water from my mane, I began my trek back to the shower.

It’s not the best life, living with the old folks. Dad’s fine for the most part, but mom can be a real bitch sometimes. Case in point? Reuben, and her rules in place for dealing with his annoying harassments. Childish they may be, but after having the little shit annoy, bother, and prank me on a constant basis, it gets old very fast. No knocking or beating or bullying the little fatass around myself, I’ve got to deal with the ‘middle mare’ if he does something annoying. Double ugh!

Locking the door to the bathroom, once more I fixed the shower head (making a mental note to check it from now on before I turned it on), and got the water running once more. Waiting till it was nice and warm, I stepped in and got to cleaning.

Why not move out? As I said before: money. I’m no big shot pony; a part time nurse at a local hospital doesn’t earn all that much. And, also as I said before, medical school ain’t cheap. Even pulling double shifts on school holidays barely keeps me in the black.

What does a part time nurse even do on a regular basis? I change linens on the beds, happily greet and smile at all the patients (even the cranky and crying ones that make my life a living hell), do height and weight before guiding patients to open examination rooms, clean up shit (literally, more times than I’ll ever admit), and swap the occasional bit of gossip with the other nurses about this or that when the chance arises. Not a dreamy life, but so long as I’ve got a job and stay in school I can live with my parents, slowly saving up for my own little apartment somewhere.

And, of course, when I do get to deal with the occasional diagnosis or injury when we get understaffed, I get to put my cutie mark to good use.

Scrubbing my left flank down, I got a good look at the X of bandages wrapped around a little red heart. I gave an annoyed sigh.

Key phrase there: “when we get understaffed.” There’s nothing explicitly wrong about only being a nurse, it’s just not what I want to do with my special talent! I wanted the real deal, a doctor of any sort. Anything that would let me put that bandaged heart on my butt to good use, not mopping spilled waste and washing stained laundry! Triple ugh.

But, of course, to be a doctor you need a good eight or so years of school. And to get through those eight years, you need to have money and a place to stay. And to have money and a roof, well guess what?

You needed a job. And, for now, I was a nurse. So be it.

But at least I do get to put my mark to good use on those hectic days when we don’t have enough ponies to stitch wounds and set broken limbs. Chaotic as they are, I always come home with a big smile when I do get to play doctor (though that smile is often lost to my brother’s annoying antics shortly after walking through the door).

At least I wasn’t selling processed veggie-patties at Windy’s.

Finally finished, I turned off the water from the shower and stepped into the now steamy bathroom. Blinking water from my eyes and quickly drying off, I trotted back to my room...after first checking the hallway for signs of my brother’s common antics and pranks.

Sitting back down in front of my vanity once more, I got to styling my mane. Tying all the loose hairs behind my head back into a tight bun. I preferred not having it all wave around behind me, falling to get in the way during work. My tail I simply brushed into a single, flowing mass of golden hair.

Mane and tail properly styled, I dug around for my preening kit, frowning when it wasn’t where I’d left it. Pulling out and rifling through all the other drawers, I gave an annoyed snort, my frown deepened. Where was that stupid—

“Looking for something?” a male voice asked from behind me.

I jumped with a yelp of fright, wheeling about in the air. I only made out dark mane and a wide, white grin before the pony tackled me in the air. Opening my mouth to scream, I was silenced as his own mouth met mine, taking my breath and scream away with a passionate kiss.

Holding me gently, my assailant whirled us about, over to the bed before depositing me there. Gasping as he retreated from the kiss, my scream was silenced this time as I recognized my assailant as he sat before me.

“Hey, lovely,” Cloud Poker greeted with a shit-eating grin.

“Pokerface?” I exclaimed, laying where he’d left me. A scowl crossed my features, “Pokerface!” I growed, sitting up and bopping him on the nose with a forehoof. That was one thing that didn’t go puff when you hit it!

“Ow!” he said, the grin turning to a gentler smile as he held up his forehooves defensively, “Okay, I deserved that, I’m sorry,” he chuckled, offering me my stolen preening kit.

I gave a low growl as I snatched my preening kit from his hoof, hopping back off the bed and trotting back to my vanity, “Ugh, I get enough of that ‘jumping out and scaring’ crap from my brother,” I groaned, opening the rectangular box to get to preening my feathers.

“Well, how about I make it up to you...” Poker replied, hopping off my bed and approaching with another grin, “...with a little something you don’t get from your little bro?”

I yelped in surprise as he spun me towards him, prepared to give him another good knocking. But like before, he stunned me with a kiss, stealing away my words as he gently caressed my breast with a hoof. Fuck me, he kissed good! Quickly, my anger faded under the strength of his lips.

His stroking hoof began to drop lower and lower, down my barrel. I let his hoof pass over the two small teats nestled between my thighs before I broke away, holding him at bay with my forehooves.

“Oh, but doctor!” I exclaimed, putting on a worried facade as his hoof was left pawing at the air, “isn’t this in violation of fraternization policy?”

“Mm, what do you mean?” he asked, playing along as he leaned in to give my neck a quick peck, “This is just a quick check-up,” he stood from me, trotting back as he brought his grinning face down towards my nethers, “Ooh, what have we here?” he asked.

“I don’t think so,” I replied with a giggle, whipping my tucking tail up under his chin as I covered myself, gripping it modestly against my barrel in my forehooves, “You’re no gynecologist.”

“Correction! I’m your gynecologist,” he grinned back at me.

Returning his smile, I leaned forwards, trading nuzzles and a final quick kiss, “But seriously: no, not now. I need to preen and then we need to get to work.”

Poker gave me a pout, sticking out his lower lip like a cute little puppy.

“No,” I asserted, pushing his face away, “I already showered this morning, I don’t wanna have to take another one before work. Mom gets bitchy enough about my supposedly long showers.”

“Oh, well maybe next time we can share a nice, long one...lather each other up and all...” he suggested with another grin before raising his forehooves in a sign of surrender and backing up off me, “But okay, I relent.”

With Cloud Poker taken care of, I started going over my feathers, straightening what needed straightening and cleaning what my shower hadn’t gotten. Poker retreated back towards the door to wait for me before pausing and turning.

“Oh. Speaking of check-ups, though…” he trailed off, producing a boxed pregnancy tester with a wing.

Turning from a few loose feathers, I rolled my eyes, “I was far enough off my cycle,” I replied, taking the tester anyways and tossing it into my vanity.

“I know, I know, I’m just being careful,” he replied, looking serious now, “Neither my or your parents have any birth cards to spare…”

“So unless we get married...” I finished with a sigh, “I know, I know. Swear I’ll do it later, okay?”

He nodded, “Drop by my place if you want me to wait on standby, just in case.”

“Sure, maybe I can be the one to scare you this time,” I giggled.

“Let’s hope not,” Poker replied with a slight grin.

Once I’d finished preening we headed back out, down through the kitchen where breakfast was being served. My parents and fat sibling were all situated around the table, dad still reading his newspaper.

“Morning, everypony!” Cloud Poker grinned, passing by with a wave of his wing.

“Good morning, Cloud Poker,” mom greeted with a smile from the table.

“I take it you two were civil up there?” dad asked with a less cheery tone, his eyes only landing on Cloud Poker.

“Don’t worry, sir,” Poker said with a quick bow, “I was nothing short of a gentlecolt.”

Grunting, my father turned back to his paper, satisfied after I rolled my eyes and nodded. I turned my eyes to my brother as I approached, I was hungry and he deserved a little something after that prank this morning.

Trotting quietly past him, I tapped my brother’s shoulder with a wing as I passed. As he looked the wrong way, I nabbed both of his toasts with margarine spread. They weren’t particularly tasty, mind you (they were as bland as everything else there was to eat), but they would serve their purpose.

“Thanks, tubby!” I called, munching happily towards the door.

“Hey!” he called after me, turning, “Mo-o-om!”

“Don’t make fun of your brother sweetie!” mom called after me, not turning from her cooking.

“Well if he wasn’t fat I couldn’t call him fat!” I shot back, grinning back at him past a part of my pilfered food.

“You’re fat!” he growled back.

“Good one!” I retorted with a roll of my eyes, following Poker out the door and stepping out into the sunlight.

“Have a good day at work!” my father called after me.

“Mmff!” I mumbled past my food, closing the door with a hoof.

It was a short flight to the hospital. After clocking in and changing into our uniforms, we parted ways with a final kiss, moving to our respective daily schedules. Trotting down the hall, I plastered a pleasant smile over my bored expression.

As I rounded a corner I spotted a darkly coated mare with pale violet mane, a pink streak running through it. The fake smile blossomed into a small grin as I waved at her with a wing, she returned the gesture.

“Hey, Lilac,” I greeted once we got closer.

“Skies,” she replied, rubbing her bleary pink eyes, “Nothing to pass down from last night, coulda slept through it if I wanted.”

I gave a mock gasp, “Did you? Ooh, I might just have to report that!”

She gave a snort of laughter, rolling her eyes, “Have a good shift, Skies.”

“Have a good sleep, Lilac,” I replied, the two of us parting ways.

From thereon out, the day turned into its typical blur of robotic activity. Some poor drunk who’d forgotten it required two wings to fly and cracked his skull open was discharged, so I was tasked with readying his room for the next patient. New sheets for the bed, take the old ones to be washed, make everything nice and tidy, done.

One of the pediatrics regulars called in sick (again, I might add) so I was assigned to prep a group of fillies and colts for check-ups. Heights, weights, temperatures, “The doctor will be with you shortly,” rinse and repeat until one of them puked in the waiting room. Thank the winds none of the janitors had called in sick, poor bastards.

Another patient was discharged, this time in a sheet-covered stretcher, a sad sight but one that wasn’t wholly unusual in this line of work. Old age, luckily they were one of the incontinent ones who wore a diaper and didn’t leave me with a huge shit-stained set of sheets to change. It’s the little things in life that count.

After tidying up a couple more rooms I was charged with checking on a few residing patients. Ensure saline drips were still hooked up, check bandages and report any that needed changing (why can’t I do it myself!? Ugh!). “How is everything? Feeling better today? Here’s your lunch! Hit the buzzer in case you need anything or are going into cardiac arrest!” The works.

“Hey, Skies, I hear that military buck you know’s back in town for a bit?” one of the male nurses, Windscatter, asked, sitting opposite Cloud Poker and I in the lunch room.

It was small and out of the way, all stark white like the rest of a hospital. A snack machine hummed quietly to itself in a corner next to a fridge with a small salad bar set against the wall. Cloud Poker had brought himself a sandwich from home while I dined on a plate from the salad bar.

“Yeah. Gonna meet him at a bar after work,” I replied, happily munching my salad (not because it tasted good, but I’ve already been over that), “But he’s taken if that’s your question, already got another buck.”

“Drat,” Windscatter muttered into his meal, “all the good bucks are taken.”

“Try mares!” Feather Fluff, another female nurse, replied from a table over. As if to emphasize, she hooked one of her wings around another mare seated next to her, “Mares are great, I would know.”

“Yeah, you’ve tasted them all, haven’t you!” Windscatter sniped back with a cheeky grin.

“Almost all of them,” she replied, grinning back at me with a wink.

“Taken,” I said simply, pulling Cloud Poker closer to me and nuzzling him. Screw the no PDA policy, “and hetero.”

“Ah, hetero, shmetero!” she countered with a dismissive wave, grin creasing into a coy smile under a pair of orange bedroom eyes, “A heterosexual’s just a pony who’s never tried the same sex.”

I gave a snort of laughter, “Tried it first year of medical school. Her name was Jasmine Tea, made better drinks than she did sex,” taking down another bite of papery sky-lettuce, I paused to chew for a moment, “just didn’t do it for me. I needed something more than a little ‘I lick your itch, you lick mine’...if you know what I mean,” I continued, bumping flanks with Cloud Poker.

“Can we please not talk about homosexual activities?” Cloud Poker spoke up past his lunch.

“How about bi-?!” the mare next to Feather Fluff called over, “Both ways is best way!”

“You ever had a buck, Poker?” Windscatter inquired.

Cloud Poker gave him a flat glare, pointing a wing down towards his hind end, “See my butt?”

“Every day, eight hours a day,” Windscatter replied, getting a giggle out of me.

“Imagine a sign on it reading: exit only, no entry,” he paused a moment, “and just to be safe: violators will be disemboweled on the spot with a scalpel.”

“No trespassing,” I added, grinning with a snicker, “beware of manticore.”

“Pff, no fun,” Windscatter replied with a wave of his hoof.

“Ah, go stick it in an icepack if you’re so horny,” Cloud Poker dismissed, taking a bite of his sandwich.

After lunch it was back to the shit, literally as a few of the less responsive residents needed diaper changing. I was so, so very happy that this just had to take place right after lunch! Like I said: “more times than I’ll ever admit.”

At least afterwards it was scheduling work. More boring than watching paint dry, though not very difficult once you got the hang of it. I had a newbie dropped in (without being told prior, like always) for training in that department. At least his cutie mark had to do with paperwork, he seemed to get ahold of it fast enough.

No emergencies throughout the day, no cardiac arrests, no botched suicide attempts, no “hold my beer and watch this” moments gone horribly wrong. Nothing serious that I could’ve actually done some good with. So call me a sadist for wanting some patient to come in with internal injuries or a sucking chest wound, at least it was so I could help fix them up!

Clock out, drop off my uniform to be cleaned, pass down to my relief pony (who was late as usual), and then a quick fly home, parting ways with Cloud Poker after a final bout of nuzzles.

Phew!

“Ugh, hurry up in there, will you!? I gotta pee!” my brother growled from the other side of the door.

“Use mom and dad’s bathroom, then!” I retorted, making sure the door was locked. For this more than anything else I needed my privacy.

“But dad’s already in there!” he cried back, the strain in his voice evident, “C’mon! I gotta go-o-o!”

“Then go piss on a lightning bolt!” I snarled back, retrieving the pregnancy tester from under my wing. Biting on the tab, I opened the cardboard box and shook out the sealed tester.

“Mom, Healthy Skies, told me to go piss on a lightning bolt!” he tattled.

“Did not!” I called back, focusing on the tester. Another bite and a tear later and I took the tester in a wing, discarding the plastic and bringing the box up to read. ‘Step one: remove the tester from packaging,’ Really? “No shit,” I muttered, reading further. Sure, I’d gone over the procedure with patients before, but the specifics varied from company to company.

“Healthy Skies, sweetie, don’t be rude to your brother!” my mother’s muffled voice called back, “And hurry up, your brother needs to use the bathroom.”

“Mm-hm!” I mumbled back, moving to the toilet and activating the tester as per instructions. Mid-stream sample, count to one...two...three...and, done! I voided the rest of my bladder into the toilet.

More pounding on the door, “I swear you’re just doing this to annoy me!” Reuben called from the other side, “What are you even doing in there!?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” I shot back, suddenly grinning, “And are you sure you don’t mean I’m doing it to piss you off?” I giggled at my own joke, bringing the tester back around in a hoof once I’d finished. The indicator was unchanged, not a big surprise, these things took time for the reading to come through. Not that it would tell me anything but negative, of course.

Tucking the tester in a wing and washing my hooves, I unlocked the door and stepped out, “All yours, tubby,” I said, moving aside.

“Finally!” Reuben growled, zipping past me with a flutter of his little wings.

“Everything come out all right in there?” mom asked from the kitchen.

“Ew, mom,” I said with a disgusted look, heading back to my room, “and yes, as a matter of fact it did, thank you oh so very much for asking!”

I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me. Retrieving the tester from my wing, I checked it again. Still nothing. Grumbling, I put it in a drawer and gathered my things. The confirmation that I wasn’t pregnant could wait, I was already soon to be late to Red Mist’s return party.

Securing the bag around me, I headed out on dancing hooves. I was going to see one of the few friends I’d retained past grade school again! And now he was an enlisted pony, a soldier in our Enclave.

I smirked as I flew to the local bar we were meeting at, trying to imagine that large, pudgy red pony in power armor. It had been far too long since I’d seen him, the only pictures I had being the ones in my last yearbook with his signature doodled over them. It would be nice to see him again before they shipped him out to wherever he was going.

The bar he’d chosen was only a short flight away, a little family-owned place called the Broodmare Brewhouse. It was a reasonably nice place.

Touching down to the sounds of wordless, upbeat music, I pushed past the door and stepped inside. The inside was lively, plenty of ponies taking the load off after work, cheering on or cursing as they huddled about multiple radios as different play-by-plays of games were reported, or sharing laughs and drinks across booths and the main bar.

The bland smells of cheap food and alcohol filled the air as I looked around. I doubted I’d arrived early, Mist had said he’d be here around—

“Skies! Hey, Skies! Over here!” the voice barely registered over the music and general hubbub of laughter and conversation. I turned, zeroing in on the voice before spotting a booth with a group of three, two wearing military dress uniforms. One of them, a large stallion with a crimson coat and a hot pink mane, was waving.

The stallion smiled as we locked eyes, waving again.

I approached quickly, squinting at the figure, ‘Is that...’ I wondered.

It was. Large for a pegasus, he was a good head taller and thicker with muscle than the average pony. He wore a dressy uniform top and his mane and tail were closely cropped. A far cry from the long, curly mane that always bounced with his stomach as he walked. Another military pony sat to his left, a civilian buck to his right.

“Mist?!” I exclaimed, eyeing his musculature up and down, “Wind’s end! Wow, you look good!” I exclaimed with a quick laugh, “Where’s that big old pegasus with the love handles I remember?”

“Hey!” he grinned, “a pony can change, can’t he?”

“Oh, I’m teasing,” I replied with a grin, stopping at the table, “It’s great to see you again!”

“It’s great to be seen again,” Mist replied, gesturing for me to take a seat, “Feels great to be out of that shithole!”

“Feels so fuckin’ weird!” the military pony beside him commented with a twangy accent, “feels like any second Sarge’s gonna jump in an’ drop me for somethin’ dumb! The PTSD’s real, I tell ya!” I frowned at the word: PTSD, but his tone led me to believe it was some inside joke. It wasn’t like they were forcing ponies to fight griffons naked...right?

“Ah, loosen up!” Mist replied as I took a seat next to the other buck. He cleared his throat, passing me a mug brimming with hard cider, “Healthy Skies, meet White Cheddar and Greasy Bearing.”

“Pleasure to meet ya,” Greasy Bearing said, giving a polite nod.

“You’re the one he’s told us so much about,” White Cheddar smiled, shaking my hoof.

After exchanging our pleasantries, I turned back to Mist, “But really, you do look great, Mist,” I commented, “boot camp really changed you.”

“Sure did,” Bearing piped up, “Heh, we used to call this big fella Private Pile, on account he was nothin’ but a good-fer-nothin’ pile o’ fat!” he quipped, bumping Mist with a wing.

“So I ponied up and became Private Piledriver! Rrgh!” he strained up one hoof, ripe with rippling muscles. Oh my!

“Yeah, an’ ‘cause of his preference as a flyin’ fudge-packer, ugh,” Bearing said, gesturing to me with a hoof, “Honestly? How can ya look at that and not think ‘ah wanna rut that sexy little thing till the wind dies out!’?”

“Because one: I’m taken, and two: I’d taze you where the sun don’t shine!” I replied on Mist’s behalf, patting a particular spot in my saddlebags. You could never be too careful.

“Ouch,” Cheddar winced, turning to Bearing, “Feel the burn of denial.”

“Almost tempted, li’l mare, almost tempted,” Bearing replied with a smirk, giving a quick bow of his head, “But, seein’ as ah am a gentlecolt, ah’ll take yer word on that.”

“Also, if you tried that, I’d piledrive you hard enough to break the cloud cover,” Mist smirked back, giving his head a friendly smack with a hoof.

Bearing waved Mist away with a hoof and a wing, “Ah don’t know which version of piledrivin’ ya mean, and ah don’t know which’d be worse.”

“I think I know which one I’d prefer,” Cheddar replied as he circled a hoof around Mist’s chest, leaning up for a kiss. The large red pony complied, joining lips with his lover.

“Oh, c’mon with that shit! Ah wanna puke after ah get pissed-fuckin’ drunk! Not before!” Bearing gagged, turning away to sip at his drink.

“Hm, I think he’s jealous,” Cheddar replied, pulling back to throw a look across the table.

“Good call,” Red Mist agreed, turning to Bearing as well, “if that bottle you’ve got gets too lonely for you, I’m always open for a three-way.”

“Screw you! By night’s end, ah’ll have me a mare! The ladies love the uniform,” he said, tugging at his dress whites with a hoof, “An’ they love a buck with an accent, ups the exotic factor.”

“Very well,” Mist dismissed him, turning suddenly to me, “So who’s the lucky stallion that finally pulled your heartstrings?” Mist considered a moment, “It is a stallion, no?”

I nodded, “Did you ever meet Cloud Poker?” I asked. Mist looked thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head, “Oh, well he was in a few of my classes. We met in medical school and he works at the hospital too now. He can be an ass sometimes, but I think you’d like him.”

“Mist does seem to like ass,” Bearing snorted with a cocky smile, snickering into his drink.

“Ha ha, very funny,” Cheddar replied, though Mist himself shared a grin with his military buddy, waving him off and turning back to his drink.

I rolled my eyes, “See any good flank?” I asked with a sip of my drink, “Plenty of steamy shower scenes, I imagine. Plenty of good looking bucks, huh?”

“The likes of which you would never imagine,” Mist chuckled.

“Oh, do tell!” Cheddar giggled, running a hoof through the fur of Mist’s powerful chest.

“Oh, gag!” Bearing grumbled as he pushed himself from the table, “I’m gettin' another drink!”

“Oh, where do I even start?” Mist began, looking thoughtful.

“P-days!” Bearing called as he disappeared into the crowd, “Fuckin’ P-days!”

“Ah, yes,” Mist began, looking nostalgic, “P-days! Running to and fro with little-to-no sleep, getting ten different shots in my legs and ass, eating the crap chow they served at the Pearl!” he shook his head, “Processing days. That first week was miserable. We were stuck in our itchy ‘smurfs’ which leave lint everywhere, a real bitch to clean up.”

“Smurfs?” I asked, looking confused.

“PT gear,” he chuckled with a nostalgic gleam in his eye, “there’s a story about why they’re called that, actually…” he began, talking the evening away.

It was starting to get late by the time I left, feeling only a little tipsy from the drink. I waved goodbye as Mist and I parted ways, feeling better than I had coming home from work.

Red Mist would be here another week or so before they shipped him off to whatever command he was going to. I considered my schedule for the week, finding a few times when I could drop by and say hello before he was shipped back out again.

The flight home was uneventful, home quiet as I opened the door and headed up to my room. My parents were out for the evening, some party. With any luck they took Reuben with them, leaving the house to me, myself, and...Reuben...in my room…digging through my drawers!

“Reuben!” I snapped, immediately annoyed.

He jumped, letting out a yelp as he turned about, “Uh,” he said, stupidly.

“What are you doing in my room?” I grumbled, spotting something clutched in his jaw, “What the hell is that?”

“I...I ‘unno, foun’ it in the drawer?” he pointed to where he’d been searching, voice partially garbled by what I realized was my pregnancy tester, held lengthwise in his mouth, “Why does it smell like pee?”

I wasn’t sure whether to laugh at the fact that he was holding a used pregnancy tester in his mouth, or angry at the little shit for entering and digging through my room for the million-and-first time.

‘Probably looking for that gynecology book again,’ I mentally grumbled, unhappily remembering the first time I’d walked in on him “studying” it.

Tearing away myself from that oh, so pleasant memory, I opened my mouth to yell at him when he spat it out and held it up in a hoof. Whatever I was about to say was blasted straight out of my head as he spoke, my blood turning to ice.

“And why’s it got this little smiley face on it?”

Footnote: Perk attained: Pregnancy I – for better or for worse, you’ve got a foal on the way. Better start thinking up names! You may feel moodier at times and have an increased appetite, as well as occasional abdominal cramps.

Author's Notes:

Don’t expect often updates on this story from me, “A” School’s a pain and we’ve only got decent amounts of liberty on the weekends so the time I get to devote to ponies is rather limited. Sorry.

Also, I go off a pony ageing system not parallel to humans so don’t worry about the potential for underage sex/drinking. In human years, Skies is around 20-22.