Fredrick was no shut-in by any measure, but that did not mean that he had to particularly enjoy his time around other people.

Back on Earth, he had a small circle of best friends, namely five individuals, with whom he’d go to dinner, gallivant around, or get into general friend shenanigans. And as circumstances would come to pass, he would not necessarily hang out with each of them all at once, but perhaps some combination of the five others.

Other than for the occasional girl, he made no conscious effort to expand his central group. He had acquaintances and general friends, certainly, but he never wanted to add to what he currently had. This was born not out of isolation or getting burned in the past by someone. No, it was, to him, a matter of necessity. Somehow, the universe deemed it so, that he would be subjected to often the strangest, most odd turns of events that could befall anyone.

Case in point, him getting transported to Equestria.

But much to his chagrin, he learned that his penchant for ‘interesting’ life events and encounters followed him to another goddamn dimension and universe altogether.

He quietly lamented this as he held pleasant conversation with Stella’s equal best friend: a lieutenant in the Canterlot Police Department named Moral Highground.

Though, through some hilarious joking on Stella’s part, Fred learned quite well that the newcomer preferred just her last name.

Their setting was one Fredrick had become accustomed to over his tenure in Equestria and with Stella in general: The Stalactite. The trio of two batponies and one human sat at the main bar with Fred at the center. His conversation continued in earnest with the CPD officer whilst Stella had turned around to mingle with a group of foreign batponies with equally as funny an accent as her.

“So,” began the plainclothes Highground smoothly after taking a gentle sip of her drink.

Her voice was smooth, mature, if somewhat cynical. Still, Fred knew he liked her the moment he was introduced; she gave off the ‘cop that’s too old for this shit’ vibe, and he appreciated it.

She then looked at him directly, her body orientation still facing the bar itself.

“You and Stella, huh?”

Fredrick bobbed his head, silently accepting her subtle congratulations along with the implicit sympathy that was conveyed with her tone.

He replied with equal tone:

“Eeyup. Believe me, I know.”

Highground’s countenance deviated little from her resting stoicism that Fred had heard so much about from Stella… though she did manage to sport a half smirk at his remark, so he was more than willing to accept that.

“Here’s my question though, that’s been keeping me up,” she started anew, this time swiveling in her stool to face him fully.

She rested her head on her open palm for support.

“You seem like a smart kid. Got a good head on your shoulders. Structured. Laid back. And, I’ll concede, you’re decent looking—just not my type. Still… an-and these aren’t jabs at you… I’m just still trying to figure out as to how and why Stel’ is completely taken with you?”

Fredrick chuckled awkwardly under the praise, but Highground’s words struck a small chord with him. Those were excellent questions, ones which he never actually asked himself. He knew that Stella thought he was good looking enough, that’s for sure, but anything else was fair game.

Things had been going well so far, so he had no reason to even question her methods to her madness.

Fredrick shrugged, sipping his beer.

“I think ‘completely taken’ is a bit of an exaggeration… though your guess’s as good as mine,” he replied.

Highground’s visage only slackened as she grinned even more, shaking her head. To Fredrick, this was the exact look someone would give when they’d say ‘Oh my sweet summer child…’

“Stella has a weird way of showing affection if it’s not overt like a hug, a kiss, or a nuzzle,” she explained.

She cleared her throat before continuing:

“And by ‘weird’ I mean really fuckin’ weird. Like, if she doesn't insult you at all, you're probably a piece of shit.”

Fredrick was more than inclined to agree with this assessment. In fact, having it laid out so simply extorted a hearty giggle from him.

“Very very true,” he said.

The rugged (yet still attractive) officer shifted her weight to her other leg, shotgunning the rest of her soda. She then raised her right index finger pointedly.

“You’ve known her for seven months. I’ve known her for five years. Believe me when I say that she’s absolutely smitten with you… just the way she’s snuck glances at you behind your back in the last five minutes tells me all I need to know,” she gestured with a tilt of her muzzle.

Fredrick blinked hard and cast his glance over his shoulder. There, he spotted a black-shorts, turquoise v-neck-clad Stella leaning against the counter shooting the shit with two other batpony stallions and a mare.

His marefriend’s ear flicked and she angled her face towards him, locked eyes, smiled, and delivered a lone wink before turning back to her new acquaintances with renewed conversation.

Fred, in kind, turned back to Highground, shrugging, once he got rid of the little bit of color that had settled in his cheeks.

“Fair, but she’s like, always smiling, so… I just click with her?”

“She's generally a happy individual. It goes beyond that, though,” Highground countered.

She continued:

“If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that you can make her laugh. Hard. Yeah, she's told me about other things she likes about you but there's always been one common denominator: Your sense of humor.”

It was Fredrick’s turn to smirk, though with pride. Still, he had a bit of cheek to add.

“That’s some deep insight for someone who claimed to not know why Stella likes me.”

Highground huffed, then shrugged.

“I could be completely wrong. But I’m also a detective, so it’s part of my job to draw conclusions based on my knowledge and evidence. I’ll just end it with the fact that you’ve got it pretty good right now.”

Fredrick considered her words as their conversation stalled for a moment. She was being a bit cryptic and as he came to voice, he wasn’t entirely clear on the point of that whole exchange.

“Fair enough and… thanks I guess? To be honest I’m not really sure where we were heading with that.”

Highground leaned closer in once she flipped her crimson locks back into place, her scrutinizing, stoic face peering straight into Fred’s very soul. He, naturally, felt compelled to lean away from her as he kept his eyes keenly trained on the batpony whom he did not know nearly as well as Stella.

And she lidded her eyes with a requisite simper.

“I get my ears talked off because of you… I know all about you from that one over there, Mr. Himmelreich,” she said, again gesturing to who Fred would affectionately call the ‘Scotsmare.’

“But what about you in relevance to her? Is the enthusiasm requited?” Highground added.

Fredrick suddenly felt claustrophobic, as he could easily press his nose to Highgrounds with barely a measurable movement forward. The mare’s countenance bore no semblance of emotion, and the only way Fred knew that she was asking him a serious question was through tone.

Very stern, yet curious.

So, with a tugging of his t-shirt collar, the human delivered his honest, if anxious response.

“She—Stella was my first and is my best friend. She at least deserves that much, don’t you think?”

The left corner of Highground’s lips tugged upward; nary a single change otherwise. She then leaned forward further, actually pressing her muzzle to his nose.

And for the first time tonight, she bared her teeth in a full smile.

“Good answer.”

Fredrick nodded and chuckled uneasily, knowing full well that he just got Highground’s trademarked version of the ‘hurt my best friend and I'll fucking castrate you’ talk.

But with that out of the way, he felt there were much smoother waters ahead with her, so he figured conversation did not have to end after that oddly meaningful yet meaningless exchange all the same.

“So… how long’ve you been with the force?” Fred asked, feeling it was a rather neutral question to begin anew.

Having ordered another drink, Highground took her first sip, gulping as she turned to Fred once more.

“Twenty years.”

“Only twenty years?”

The jab at her age was not lost on her in the slightest.

“Oh you’re so goddamn funny, you know that? Same old age jokes that I totally haven’t heard, ever. Maybe I can see why she likes you.”

Fredrick laughed out loud, raising his glass toward the mare, to which she promptly clinked hers against his.

“I can drink to that. Cheers.”

“Cheers, Fred.”

Upon taking a nice sip of his elixir of choice, Fredrick was just happy to get the implicit blessing from Stella’s close friend. That was one potential problem that he felt he could cross off the list of ‘shit that could go wrong.’

Highground spoke up again:

“Don’t get me wrong though. She’ll take good care of you, even if it sometimes seems like she’s trying to get you killed,” she said.

She then appeared to reminisce, and with the subtle grimace, it did not look like the associated memory was entirely a pleasant one.

“Believe me. I know that too well,” she chuckled, shuddering at the memory.

Fredrick easily felt he could contend with a little anecdote. Nonchalantly, he noted:

“She threw me off my room’s balcony in the castle. Just to catch me.”

Highground didn’t appear phased at all, and she only sipped her newly topped off drink.

“She replaced my sidearm with a water pistol,” she flatly said. “Imagine whipping that out on inspection in front of the Equipment Controller.”

Fredrick had little ability to stifle the giggle in his throat, so he attempted to cover it with a sip of his drink, though with little success.

That for sure sounded like garden-variety Stella antics.

“Well, if it’s any consolation…” Fred began.

He then cleared his throat and leaned in close, Highground cocking an eyebrow as she lent him her ear.

“Tonight, I’m actioning my counter-prank against her as payback for an earlier prank of hers. Got a little help and blessing from Princess Luna herself, as a matter of fact,” he declared.

Highground’s curiosity was a little more than piqued, to say the least.

“Reeeeaaaally…? What’s the plan?”

Stealing a glance over his shoulder to see Stella still engrossed in conversation, he turned back to Highground and relayed his little scheme.

“It’s a simple, apparently timeless classic: Poison Joke.”

The batpony officer huffed approvingly whilst taking another swig of her beer.

“Heh, definitely is timeless, that’s for sure,” she said.

She then pursed her lips curiously.

“Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever remember her getting struck with PJ. Otherwise, I’d tell you what to expect in terms of effects on her.”

Fredrick shrugged, facing forward.

“Meh, I figured that’d be the fun part.”

“Well, either way, I hope she doesn’t kill you. I can’t guarantee your safety if the effect is bad enough,” Highground warned.

“Noted,” was all Fred had to say.

Conversation resumed without much flair as the evening progressed, and Fredrick had to admit that it was times like these that he truly appreciated. It was little moments like these that made him truly realize that his new life wasn’t all that bad. From current living situation to the friends he had made… and now to his best friend turned girlfriend, there had been plenty of hurdles to ford but all in all, things were just swell.

What especially reinforced this was when Stella introduced the two groups together so they could all shoot the breeze. The bombastic mare gravitated to Fred’s side and leaned against him, allowing the human to place his arm around her waist.

Upon questioning by the newcomers, Stella happily introduced Fredrick as her coltfriend… though with some usual Stella-esque words to go along with it.

And that made him feel amazing, filling his insides with a warmth he had never experienced truly thus far… as well as touching him in ways that no woman ever could.

What he and Highground had found amusing was that Stella and these foreign ponies seemed to have their own language of sorts; clearly they were all from the Northern Mountains, as the slang that they used for the most mundane things and the commonality of their vernacular was demonstrably the same.

Then again, the Stalactite was modeled after the cavern networks of the North, of which encompassed several different societies of batponies. It was only fitting that they would run into thestrals who were from the same groups as Stella, Fredrick figured.

Hilariously, they had some of the same quirks and mannerisms as she quite proudly sported, minus a few more personal touches, of course.

But that came with the same penchant for being a bit too… bellicose.

Case in point, when after some seemingly mindless and harmless banter, the mood somehow turned sour.

“Oi mate, the fuck you runnin’ yer gob ‘bout Breeze, aye?” came a sudden, nearly indecipherable inquiry of the new thestral mare.

The tone of those words told Fredrick enough, and he knew well that Stella would not back away from challenging words—doubly so when she was drunk.

He knew his marefriend well.

“Ah said he’s a fukkin’ twat with a lil’ bawbag the size of a boysenberry innit? An’ you fukkin’ know it ya tint slag!” came her response with an accompanying point of her index finger.

Fredrick shot a questioning look over to the other two batpony gentlecolts who mirrored the exact same confusion. Highground only looked on with amused interest.

That all changed, however, when the lighter-coated thestral mare lunged for Stella… but was quickly blunted when her friends restrained her by the arms within milliseconds’ notice. Likewise, Fredrick and Highground had to bound out of their chairs and hold Stella back from counterattacking.

Despite both batponies flailing belligerently in their comrade’s holds, what remained wholly unrestrained were their mouths.

“Oi ya little cunt, take tha’ back wit ya tae Tartarus you fuckin’ cumstain I'll fuckin’ twist yer twat off!”

Stella’s intellectual rebuttal was much more grotesque:

“Lick mah sticky flaps, ya fuckin’ flat-titted inflatable cunt, ye!”

Fredrick felt it would be wise to interject at that point.

“OKAY… yeah it’s getting late, we’re gonna go now. Sorry about this,” he announced, he and Highground gently leading their lovably aggressive friend away.

“Not yer fault, mate! We don’t even know what the fuck happened either!” came the response from one of the other nice fellows.

Stella and her equally ‘Scottish’ counterpart continued to incessantly spew obscenities from their mouths; Fredrick figured that if the US and USSR went to war, it would look something like this.

“Have a goodnight, guys!” Fredrick called out as they dragged a raging Stella up towards the exit.

“Cheers, mates!”

“Ah’ll shite on errythin’ you love ya snagglefanged fuck!” came the pleasant well-wishes of the visiting mare.

Highground immediately weighed in with:

“Stel’, don't rise to that.”

“Fuck off back to Thestralshire an’ garble a fukkin’ pumpkin-spiced wang, ya cuntbadger I'll fukkin’ whipple yer maw right fukkin’ red ya fukkin’ sperm deposit box!”

The CPD Officer merely sighed out, shaking her head.

“Amazing self-control, as always.”

The duo finally dragged Stella out the exit and into the cool, refreshing night air, and the effect was immediate. The guardsmare took a few deep breaths once her friends released her to her own devices, and as if the moonlight itself had power over her, she was completely calm.

Though still very, very drunk.

“Well…” she spoke, leaning against Fred for support. “Those were some lovely ponies. But let’s go home? I’m fuckin’ beat, love, aye?”

Fredrick smirked down at his mare, wrapping an arm around her before he faced Highground… who held a much softer expression at their small display.

“Guess that’s our cue to head back.”

Highground nodded.

“As is mine. Stella’s got the right idea: sleep,” she echoed her best friend’s sentiment.

Adjusting her jacket, she extended her hand to the human, who grasped hers in kind. He nearly got his hand crushed to a pulp by one of the strongest handshake grips he had ever experienced.

“Good to meet you, Fred… and I’m sure I’ll be hearing and seeing much more of you in the future.”

She then nodded gently.

“You’re alright. And Stella, you take care as well—hang out next week, okay bitch?” she added, tousling the inebriated mare’s mane.

Stella batted her away, tiredly nodding. Apparently, fatigue had caught up with her in a hurry once she let out all her excess energy in trying to fight somepony.

“Aye. Don’t die ya fuckin’ slag.”

The cop rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… same phrase for the last few years. See you guys!” she strode in another direction with a wave.

Fredrick and Stella returned her farewells and headed back to the castle. Yet again, Fred found himself hefting his drunken now-marefriend back to her barracks, though he took little qualm with it. When she was drunk, she tended to be a little more handsy, and by extension, cuddlier and generally more affectionate in a softer manner.

“Well, that was interesting,” Fredrick voiced flatly, still sure to hold his mare close.

She leaned into him more, sighing out blissfully.

“Yeah. Seriously though; they were nice ponies.”

But one question was burning Fredrick from the inside out as they strode through the less-crowded streets without a care in the world.

“Dude, what the fuck were you two ready to slug each other over?!”

Stella’s much more placid state was no more at the mention of that subject, and she burst out in raucous laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Fuckin’… okay, so. That batpony mare was from the same network as me in the Northern Mountains, aye?” she began.

Fred nodded, keeping rapt attention on her.

“Okay…”

Stella coughed and cleared her throat, giggling as she continued:

“Well, back in the Northern Mountains, the network where we’re from is called ‘Thestralshire.’ When I was growing up, there was a hard candy that was locally produced… many fruity flavors an’ really fuckin’ good. Addicting as shit, I’ll tell ye.”

“Right…”

“But,” Stella said, raising a single index finger pointedly. “Fast forward fifteen years later and the twats change the fuckin’ recipe. It’s… different,” she added with a slight grimace.

The two entered onto the home stretch toward the castle.

Fredrick understood completely, evident by him nodding deeply with a sense of recognition.

“Ahh, so it was like the whole ‘new coke’ and ‘coke classic’ with my parents’ generation,” he mused.

“Okay, go on…”

Stella nodded, still smirking like a drunken madmare. Her cheeks were cutely blushed and those dimples of hers never quit.

“Whatever that means, mate… but this candy was so popular, so influential, that those who embraced the change and those who told ‘em to fuck off were split right down the middle.

“There was literally almost a civil war over fuckin’ candy. Just imagine that. And the scars of that tension still remain to this day…” Stella finished oh so cryptically.

Fredrick was not in the slightest surprised, actually.

“And which side of this global conflict did you happen to be on?”

“Fuck the change! If the shit ain't broke, don’t try tae fuckin’ fix it fer fuck’s sake, lads!” Stella declaimed with the highest authority to anypony who happened to be around them at the moment.

Fredrick, of course, had little say in the matter when he busted a gut laughing.

“Batponies ready to take up arms over candy. I guess there are worse things to fight over but good lord you all have too much time on your hands.”

“Ayy, fuck you, mate.”

He placed a lone kiss atop Stella’s head.

The mare in question, however, had something else in mind at that.

“Oi, fucker if yer gonna kiss me gimme a real fuckin’ kiss, ya cunt!”

And with that, she angled his face towards hers and pressed her alcohol-soaked lips to his, though there was little time for him to relish in the unexpected yet pleasant experience—Stella promptly invaded his mouth with her tongue.

And though Fredrick could not refrain from groaning at just how much power she truly wielded over him, her tongue was probably the equivalent of a fifty-proof shot at the moment.

The duo separated from the PDA after a few moments with a satisfying ‘mwah!’ and not a care in the world.

In a fashion most befitting of her, Stella remarked with a bright smile:

“Whew lad! Now that’s what I'm fuckin’ about, aye?”

Fredrick harbored similar enthusiasm.

“Heh, that’s my Stella! By the way, based on your empirical analysis, how drunk are you?”

Stella took all but a single second of research and inward reflection before delivering her analytical response:

“Ah’m pretty fuckin’ drunk, mate.”

“That’s pretty fucking drunk, mate,” Fred parroted with a self-satisfied chortle.

And as they were about to enter into the main archway of the Castle, Fredrick’s expression morphed into one much more devilish.

“Well, are you drunk enough to do me a favor for my own amusement?” he asked, bringing them both to a gentle stop.

Stella, naturally, gazed up at him curiously.

“Ummm, maybe?”

“Just shout at the top of your lungs ‘Scotland forever!’” Fred stated.

Stella’s look only intensified.

“The fuck’s that even mean?”

“Just do it for me, please!” Fredrick demanded impishly, barely able to contain a forthcoming giggling fit.

The thestral rolled her eyes and turned towards Canterlot in it's entirety, quickly glancing back to Fred.

“The shit I do for you,” was all she said before she let loose a powerful war cry to all who would hear:

“SCOOOOOOOOTLAND FOOOOOOOOREVER!”

Fred doubled over in bellowing guffaw; it literally could not have been any more perfect if there were bagpipes involved.

Stella had a tiny giggle, if that, but more so because she had no idea what the hell it meant, and why Fredrick nearly choked to death on his own spit saying ‘perfect’ repeatedly. Perhaps it was just a human thing. Like Fredrick had with her, Stella also knew not to question some of Fredrick’s antics, though those usually revolved less on actions and more on pop culture references.

It was a quick trip back to Fredrick’s room after that; they opted for his room mainly because Stella was off the next day and her sleep schedule ‘was pretty fucked as it were.’ There was little flair involved in their little ‘homecoming,’ as Stella just threw open the door and dove-to-prone on the bed, flopping onto her front.

No one noticed the soft glow of the candles, nor the gentle breeze that animated the sheer curtains… the only thing the batpony did was regret her little burst of exuberance as more alcohol processed into her system.

“Fuck… that wasn’t a fukkin’ good idea. I think I’m m’re drunk naw…” she mumbled through her pillow.

Fredrick observed from afar, much like a parent would their rambunctious child finally giving up on their existence for a few moments. He chuckled and shed his jacket to the floor as he strode up along the bedside.

Stella’s shirt had ridden up her torso a modest amount and Fred placed his left hand on the small of her back, then running his palm up to her neck.

“You alright, Stel’?” the human asked, burying his face into her mane.

“Nnnph.”

“You really drunk, hun?”

“Mmph.”

Fredrick had a distinct inability to not smile at the moment, and he massaged the back of his marefriend’s neck as he tried anything he could to possibly help her through her titanic-level slogging.

“Can I get you anything?”

“Mmph.”

“Water?”

“Cunt.”

“Water it is,” Fredrick said, nodding.

He then glided over to his bathroom with a tall glass in tow to fetch Stella just that. However, he had a bit of an ulterior motive:

Stealing a glance out the door to make sure she was still facedown (and breathing), Fredrick cackled inwardly as he produced a small vial that he had left in the bathroom vanity drawer—pure, concentrated Poison Joke.

Courtesy of Princess Luna.

Fredrick securely held the small vial of glimmering-blue powder, powder which twinkled as he rolled the container in his palm.

And with one motion, he popped the top off and dumped the entire serving’s-worth, the substance instantly darkening the water to a cobalt-blue color. Following Luna’s simple directions, he made sure to grab a spoon that he had tucked way for the purpose to stir.

Using his finger like he would be so inclined to do would yield disastrous results for him.

To his satisfaction, the newfound color of Stella’s to-be drinking water cleared away entirely, leaving her beverage as crystal clear as one would come to expect from an ordinary glass of water.

Perfect.

After that, it was little effort in reemerging from the bathroom with the glass and delivering it to the questionably suffering mare… who had not moved a single inch from the spot she flopped down on initially.

Fredrick placed his right index and middle finger on the crook of Stella’s neck.

You know, just in case.

“I'm nae fukkin’ dead ya arsehole.”

Fred giggled, patting her butt.

“Juuuuust checking,” he said, then placed the glass on the nightstand.

“Your water. Drink.”

Stella grumbled as she rolled over cutely, especially as she thrusted her v-neck-clad chest in the air to stretch. Her eyes lidded in drunken fatigue having caught up to her, she eyed the tall glass of water like her last lifeline.

Fredrick did her a solid and handed it to her as he sat next to her, to which Stella smiled softly at him.

“Cheers love,” came her equally soft reply.

And then she brought the rim of the glass to her lips and gulped down the entire thing.

Fredrick looked on with a small sense of victory, more than eager for payback at the mini hell that was Stella’s last prank on him. By the same token, however, he still harbored a vague sense of guilt; feeling bad in implementing his prank when she was in such a state, but then again, the effects were supposed to take over a few hours to appear. They would then remain for an undetermined amount of time, so getting some sleep would be the perfect way to pass the time until then.

“Ahhhh,” Stella cooed when she finished her drink, setting the glass aside.

Fredrick gave a half-smirk, shuffling over her and laying down on her right.

“Better?”

“Fer now, yeah.”

In a move that evoked a cocked eyebrow from Fredrick, Stella snuggled right into his side and lay a hand on his chest. She inserted her muzzle right into the crook of his neck.

He could feel the no-small amount of heat radiating off of her body, especially her face. Her gentle, steady breaths broke apart on the most sensitive area of his vulnerable spot, doing well to make him to hum in approval.

The thestral smiled.

“Now Ah’m really better, hehe.”

Fredrick chuckled at her little actions, and knew words were not necessary. However, actions spoke infinitely louder, so he left his left-hand rest around her back and dutifully keep Stella where she was. As he had lamented over many times in the past, Stella was never much of a cuddler—he took advantage of these moments whenever they arose.

He thought it ended there for the evening, that the two of them would fall asleep in each other's embrace.

Apparently not.

“Oi, you awake Fred?”

“It's literally been fifteen seconds.”

“Shaddup.”

“Fine. Be that way.”

Stella giggled all girly-like for a moment, then planted exactly three kisses on the underside of Fredrick’s jaw.

She lay her head back where it was with a blissful sigh.

“I've never really cared if ponies came or fucked off in me life… but it's always nice when somepony like you stays for more than just dinner.”

Holy shit.

It was a simple assertion, but Fredrick inhaled sharply at her words… words which were tantamount to saying that she more than simply enjoys having him in her life. She said that so clearly and coherently that Fred was beginning to wonder whether her inebriation had vanished into thin air!

And then came the heart flutter.

And the heat.

And the blush.

Fuck me this is so gay. Feelings ‘n shit.

There was nothing to say to that that would not sound in the slightest bit cheesy, but thankfully, Stella intercepted any attempt to say something stupid:

“C-Can I sleep here t’night, mate?” she asked with uncharacteristic timidity and fatigue.

Fredrick let his eyelids fall closed, and he pulled Stella that much tighter against him.

“Never had to ask in the past, and the same holds true now. Of course.”

No response.

“Stel’?”

The tiniest, audible breathing/borderline snoring could be heard over the quiet ambiance of the room and the nocturnal world outside… and the steady rhythm in which her back rose and fell with cyclic breathing told Fredrick all he needed to know.

It took little push to send Fredrick on his way to his dreams as well, and with mutual, tired smiles adorned on both of their satisfied countenances, the night ended then and there.

Neither bothered to change into anything more comfortable.

The blinding, initial golden rays of Celestia’s rising sun could not have come soon enough.

It was always a treat to see a softer side of Stella… for it was a side of her that she rarely showed anypony save for the ones whom she held so near and dear. Of course, she was pretty drunk, but Fredrick was a staunch believer of the whole ‘drunk words/actions are sober thoughts’ mantra, so while he took some stuff with a grain of salt, the rest he took to heart.

And words like those coming from a mouth like hers would do well to warm him on even the coldest nights Equestria could offer.

It wasn’t that he felt she didn’t care about him… oh no, she had her ways of showing that. But, it was just the sweetest thing to see her act timid and bear her soul once in a while. Just like with her cuddly nature (or lack thereof), he treasured each and every one of those moments that had come to pass in their aggregate relationship.

And as creepy as it sounded, even in his own eyes, Fred felt she looked gorgeous sleeping.

Both were keenly aware that Stella’s sleep schedule was screwed up for the last couple of days and would be for the next few. The culprit was what Stella claimed to be a nightmare about something that scared the shit out of her while she was deployed in the Badlands years ago. Whatever it happened to be, he knew for a fact that there was no resurgence of it last night, and Stella slept like a petrified log.

With the tiniest remnant sleepiness in his eyes, Fredrick continued to let his head be embraced by the pillows as he gazed upon his mare. Stella, who had lay on her back with her head tilted towards him, remained peacefully asleep with her mouth ever-so-slightly slack. Fredrick almost fell back asleep in the Saturday morning sunlight just by how comforting a cadence her rhythmic inhaling and exhaling provided, but he valiantly resisted.

Planting the most miniscule of kisses on the tip of her muzzle, Fredrick scooted closer to her and cupped her exposed cheek. He caressed her lovingly with his thumb, stroking her cheek with a wide arc and feeling how velvety smooth her coat felt. As he parted the tiniest follicles with his thumb with his little gesture, the human just could not stop staring.

He was so lucky.

This mare was so terrifyingly quickly becoming his entire world.

But as if his thoughts took a left turn at ‘nope-ville,’ Fred realized that the Poison Joke that he administered last night should have taken effect by now. At least on her face, there were no obvious deformities or anything comical about her.

He even lifted the blankets to check under them.

Nope. She looked exactly the same in her shorts and v-neck as she did the previous night. Her tail and mane were still styled in their usual fashion, albeit a bit frizzy from sleeping.

Nothing.

Guess it failed. Bleh.

Stella’s eyelids fliched lightly after all of Fred’s shifting around, and she groaned whilst stretching her arms wide over her head (even smacking Fred in the face without a care in the world).

He didn’t care though; she more than made up for it with that heart attack-inducing yawn which exposed those four immensely cute fangs of hers.

Clicking her tongue a couple of times and yawning again, she turned to Fredrick… and the way her eyes and entire visage lit up at just locking eyes with him nearly sent the poor human into another blushing spree.

She smiled the quintessential ‘Stella Smile.’

“G’mornin’ poof—ahem I mean darlin’ coltfriend,” she greeted in a style most reminiscent of her, fluttering her eyelashes.

But, she topped it off with a peck on the lips.

All was normal.

“Good morning to you, cutie,” he replied, lying back once again and facing the ceiling.

Stella pursed her lips and considered his words for a few seconds.

“Not so sure how I still feel about that word, to be honest… but then again, I was probably sappy as fudge last night. Shirt I got so goshdarn drunk.”

Fredrick’s eyes snapped entirely open, and then he raised the hugest eyebrow he had in a long time.

He slowly turned to her with that same expression never wavering.

“W-What the hell did you just say?”

Stella scoffed, rolling her eyes.

“I said I got fudging slogged last night, didn’t I tell ya get the corn outta yer ears like thirty flippin’ times already?” she spit out without much thought.

Then, she blinked. Hard.

And a grin of hellish proportions began to slowly but surely worm its way on Fredrick’s face.

“W-Wait, what the flop did I just say?!” she demanded of herself, sitting up straight.

Her hand instantly covered her mouth, and Fredrick was quick to sit up and confirm if his suspicions were indeed correct.

Even so, he was having a hell of a time suppressing an impending giggle fit.

“Stella… what the fuck are you saying?”

His little high-pitched squeak that he tried to masquerade as a cough did not persuade Stella at all, however, and she instantly homed in on him with a glare that could commit genocide.

“What. The. FLIPPER. Did. You. Do?!” she demanded to know, but she had no control over what her third word came out as.

She recoiled off the bed and stood up, grasping her cheeks.

“I can’t curse…?” she inferred, beginning to pace back and forth parallel to the side of the bed.

She repeated those words over and over.

By now, Fredrick was barely making any effort to hold in his snickers.

“Well, by my observations…” he began sarcastically. “You do indeed seem to not be able to swear.”

Stella ignored him and decided on a simple test of tongue:

“Fudge. Shin. Darn. Cat. Wait. Shinfudge… what the shudder Fredrick?!” she devolved into a pleading mess when her litmus testing failed spectacularly.

She bounded over to him and gripped him on the cheeks.

“WHAT. DID. YOU. DO?!”

Fredrick had little cause to be afraid, however, and his expression remained a constant battle between composure and laughing through his teeth.

Still, he had enough sense to utter a single word:

“Payback.”

Only right then did it dawn on Stella what he meant—payback. Payback for the prank she pulled on him over a month ago. Her eyes widened and she stumbled back.

Whatever witchcraft he performed on her, to say she was ‘not pleased’ at its results would be the understatement of world history.

“You…” she hissed, pointing directly at him. “You gee-darn MONSTER!”

She then grasped him with all her strength by his shirt and yanked him to his feet on the floor. Despite the couple-inch size disparity, Stella was determined to resolve this matter immediately.

Coyness was Fredrick’s most hilarious friend at the moment:

“Can I help you?”

This mare was not having it.

“You piece of shed laced scabby twangbag ye GIMME BACK MAH CURSE WORDS!”

“Mmmmmmmmm no.”

The thestral looked like her face was gonna explode from how red in the cheeks she was. Her eyes looked like they were boiling on the inside, and she violently shook Fredrick where he stood.

“THIS IS NOT FLOGGIN’ NEGOTIABLE YA PRISSY SHED!”

Continuing to test the limits of Stella’s wrath on layaway, Fredrick glanced upward at the ceiling, then began tapping his chin with his index finger.

Stella probably would’ve shot him by now if she had the means.

Cryptically, Fred had his response:

“Tell you what. I’ll tell you how to cure it if you do one thing for me…”

Remaining silent yet vigilant, Stella only blinked a couple of times, teeth remaining bared. The human took this as his cue to reveal his one condition:

“Stella, I want you to call me a ‘cunt.’”

Her eyes shone of true fear for the first time Fredrick had seen, but never one to back down from a challenge, Stella dropped into a much more bellicose stance. She raised her hand and pointed right at his face, shaking her head.

With a deathly-low tone, she said:

“You…”

With a smug simper to rival some of his favorite animes, Fred infuriatingly tilted his head to the left and simply replied:

“Yes…?”

“…are an enormous…”

Fredrick blinked between parts of Stella’s sentences.

“…saggy…”

“…shriveled…”

“…incomprehensible…”

“…infected…”

“…c-c-c-c…”

Fred continually interjected and egged her on with a faux-cheer routine, jumping up and down like a giddy child:

“Come on, Stella… call me a cunt!”

That first letter was all Stella could muster, and a small vein throbbed on her forehead as she fought with all her might to say a word that was likely her first ever spoken word. She fought, she strained against the disconnect between her mouth and brain that the Poison Joke unknowingly trifled with.

All the while, Fredrick tucked his lips inward at the display and was on the verge of losing his shit entirely.

That is… until Stella’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed like a rag doll, hitting the floor with a deafening, hollow smack.

Fredrick stood there stiff, jaw slack, and eyes bugged out.

“Oh shit…”

“Well, she definitely collapsed as a result of a stress-induced fainting spell… first I’ve ever seen Miss Sabre faint,” said one of the castle’s main medical staff: a familiar Nurse Nightcross.

The older, uniformed mare glossed over her clipboard of Stella’s information and vitals in front of an understandably worried Fredrick while the mare in question lay resting on a hospital bed next to them.

The Lunar Residence Hall was thankfully close to the infirmary, and Fredrick was able to scoop up the downed batpony in his arms and heft her there, bridal style. She received a room with no issue and within minutes, she was on basic IV fluid drips and some magical stimulants to be safe.

The human breathed a sigh of relief, running a hand through his wholly unkempt hair.

“That’s a relief. Shit… so, about the umm, Poison Joke?” he added.

Nurse Nightcross nodded understandingly.

“That wasn’t a problem. When magical scans detected it in her system we administered the antidote through the general IV package. She should be good to get back on her hooves in an hour or so,” she informed.

The nurse then flipped through the last sheets of her clipboard and placed it under her arm.

“In the future, I’d suggest avoiding pranks involving the wretched flower… for her sake, mostly,” she weighed in, giggling.

Fredrick chuckled awkwardly at that, because he knew that, while Stella was in perfect health despite what happened, he was now worried about his own safety when she would eventually wake up.

Thankfully, though, such an untimely demise never came. Stella, ever the bombastic yet reasonable mare, was unusually quiet when she walked out of the infirmary at Fred’s side. She proposed a small ‘ceasefire’ of sorts in terms of pranks, and promised to put a few things off limits in exchange for ‘never letting her get near Poison Joke ever again for the rest of her natural fuckin’ life.’

Fredrick agreed wholeheartedly. Thus, the rest of the day was spent with Stella having a new, powerful appreciation for her ability to articulate swear-phrases like some pony-Shakespeare.

Relatively normal, all things considered. However, Fredrick was alerted to just how naïve he still was at times… especially expecting things to continue a little more normally during the final week before their trip.

Six days came and went since that eventful, hilarious, yet indubitably plot-twist-y day.

When Fredrick would get off work for the day, he had come to expect a certain bit of normalcy when he would make his way back to his room via his usual, leisurely stroll.

Briefcase in tow and jacket slung over his shoulder, the human had would assume (though this varied slightly depending on the day) that he'd run into some castle staff that he had become acquainted and decent friends with, so maybe he'd stop and chat for a few moments…

...Or perhaps he would have dinner with Princess Celestia or Luna at the culmination of his work shift. All told, there wasn't a whole lot that would go on at the end of a particular business day, but there was some variety and figurative Hot Bobby Sauce to spice things up a bit when Stella wasn't forcefully making Fred’s life more… enriched.

But even with Stella popping into his life as his best friend and now girlfriend/marefriend, one thing that Fredrick could say for certain that would not happen on any form of regular basis would be finding a large, rectangular, two-way military service radio sitting on his bed, occupying space like some protesting hippies.

But, lo and behold, that’s exactly what was discovered when Fredrick opened his door.

Standing there in white dress shirt, black tie, and black slacks, he stared blankly at that very device that he knew for one hundred percent certain did not belong in his room.

And after what seemed like a small eternity of wrapping his mind around this, Fred dropped his briefcase.

“The hell…?”

He shut the door behind him and took tentative, calculating steps towards the oversized, magically-powered device. He knew for a fact Stella was responsible for this… he could practically smell her having meddled in his domain.

But still. This was a damn huge radio.

As Fredrick stood beside his bed and looked down upon the foreign object, he ran through his mind if it was beyond Stella to bomb his room.

Yeah, probably beyond her…

So with that thought easily put to rest, Fredrick still had to figure out exactly why this radio was in his room, or more specifically, why Stella put it there and buggered off without letting him know.

But in placing his palm on the smooth, flat surface and running over it, his fingers felt something paper-like on the other side.

Looking curiously, Fred found a small little note taped there, with some rather familiar handwriting scribbled onto it. Knowing now that he was not in any imminent danger from pranking or bombing, he detached the note to read its contents.

Turn the magic frequency dial to exactly halfway beyond the seventh notch after ‘5’ and establish contact when you read this.

Cunt.

;)

Fred’s jaw slackened and he raised a lone eyebrow.

“O-Okay…?”

Still acting out of caution rather than adventure, he took a seat on the bed and found the receiver. Assuming the simplicity of how things worked, he brought it up to his face while he searched for the ‘magical frequency’ dial. There were several knobs to choose from, but he figured his best bet, after powering the device on, was to tune the center one which had ‘MF’ embossed above it.

“...halfway past the seventh notch…” he mumbled, trying to get it exactly right.

There was some activity in the earpiece of the receiver as it whirred to life, as if someone was physically strangling the static, though it did not sound like ‘normal’ static or interference. Fred surmised this was because of the magical component of this.

Suddenly it disappeared, leaving a completely open line, free of interference.

Yet, nothing sounded.

Fredrick listened awkwardly, full of suspense and not having an inkling of an idea whether to just speak or let fate take its course from here.

His intuition for the weird proved correct.

“I see you figured out how to work it. Knew you would,” came a certain, oddly smooth, Scottish drawl layered over the gentlest static.

Fredrick cracked a half smirk and loosed a chuckle at the sound of her voice, laying back on his bed and kicking his shoes off after deeming the whole ordeal safe.

With an equally tranquil tone, he replied:

“Yeah, took a little bit of tinkering… though I was sure it was a bomb.”

Fredrick heard her click her tongue a couple of times, and he could practically see her shaking her head.

“So sure that you’re one step ahead o’me, are ye? Haven’t I told you that yer not fuckin’ sneaky?”

The human ran his free hand through his hair, placing it behind his head as he relaxed his eyes. He grinned as his next words filtered out:

“That only applies when I’m staring at your tits and ass. I’m quite sneaky otherwise,” he noted.

A genuine, hearty laughter came from the other side of the line.

“True… they are sights to behold,” Stella agreed.

“How’s yer day, love?”

Fredrick continued to relax to his marefriend’s accent, falling into the conversation as if the odd medium were not a factor at all. Hell, she could probably just whisper ‘cunt’ into his ear over and over again and he’d most likely be fast asleep.

“It was pretty good, just a bit tiring,” he said. “Been chasing Celestia around all day because it’s court season, so I’ve definitely been getting my exercise in.”

Typical with Stella, her witty response was fronted immediately.

“Bet yer gettin’ a nice heapin’ of solar ass with that view from behind…”

By now, Fredrick knew better than to get worked up over Stella’s teasing and prodding, though that did not stop him from slipping up often. This wasn’t one of those times, and the fact that she was not physically present likely contributed to his confidence.

Having also learned from the queen of banter herself, Fredrick replied nonchalantly:

“Oh you fuckin’ know it, babe. I think even you agree that she’s got a nice butt,” he then proposed.

A snort broke through the receiver, followed by a very girly giggle.

“Better tits in my trained opinion, but not a bad ass by any means…” she voiced.

Fredrick raised an eyebrow.

“‘Trained?’”

“Yes. ‘Trained.’ Fuck you.”

Fredrick huffed victoriously, recognizing the telltale tone of having gotten under Stella’s skin for once.

“So what’re you up to?” he asked. “How’s your day, and why talk like this when you can just walk or fly over? And how the hell did you get this military radio? I’m pretty sure this is not legal somehow.”

The second one was the question of the night, actually; Stella was not shy about coming over whenever she pleased, and often dropping by unannounced. Why the sudden change this time?

Fredrick had his answer within the moment:

“Well, firstly, my day was… okay, thank you for askin’, love. Thirdly, it’s only illegal if ya get caught. No one will notice. This is a frequency nopony uses. And secondly…”

Though her reiterating the questions out of order amused him, Fredrick became a tad curious when Stella suddenly stopped speaking, and cleared her throat. Of course, this was no cue to interject, and Stella promptly continued:

“My day was okay because me heat started today. That ties into why we’re talkin’ like this… it’s really really really fuckin’ wise that yer not around me right now,” she expressed.

Fredrick’s curious complexion returned, bobbing his head as he considered her words. Her explanation begged a question though, one which Fred was all too eager to investigate:

“Huh… your heat? I thought those lasted for like, one to two weeks. I’ve never really gone without seeing you at least once a week.”

An affirming ‘mhm!’ sounded from the receiver, followed by Stella’s lecture-esque response:

“Yeah. Fer normal ponies, the lucky shitfucks. Batpony heats last only two or three days... however, they’re much MUCH more powerful, borderline crippling.”

That explained it.

“Ahh… gotcha. Makes sense. Does it like, hurt?” Fred asked.

“It can, with how hard me fud throbs... like right now. Ugh, fuck me, it’s like havin’ a second heart between m’legs!”

Stella then alluded with trailing words:

“But yeah. As much as I’d really love to be there right now for a number of reasons, for both of our sakes, it’s best that I’m not…”

But of course, Fredrick was practically handed an opportunity on a silver platter to play coy with his obviously struggling marefriend at the moment.

He smirked deviously before speaking his mind.

“Yeah? Why, would you just jump and bang me or a random girl or dude who happens to cross your path? Guessing that’s why you isolate yourselves,” he teased.

The batpony on the other line answered without missing a single beat:

“Nae. Just you. I’d probably fuck you into the stone foundations of this castle to be completely fuckin’ honest,” came her candid response.

Just the way she said it sent a heat that ebbed from his core through his entire body. He blushed heavily as his eyes lidded at the thought.

“Hmm… that doesn’t sound so bad, actually.”

Another giggle from the other side, this time a high, sultry one.

“Yeah?” Stella replied. “I’m sure you’d enjoy me barging in there, tearing me clothes off, pinning you to the bed and stabbing m’self with that rock hard cock of yours as I ride you like nopony else…

“And don’t even try tae tell me yer not diamonds right now,” she added cheekily.

Fredrick looked down at his prone form and found that, indeed, he was sporting a fairly prominent bulge in his pants.

Huh… would ya look at that.

“Yeah. Guess I am!”

“Hmmmmmmmmm…” Stella pondered sultrily. “Good. Perhaps you’d even like to toss me on yer bed and cozy up between me legs, huh? Rip me knickers off and just jam yer dick into me minge over and over and over again?”

The heat in Fredrick’s cheeks rose proportionally to the amount of shits he did not give. Was this how it was gonna go down? Was this like… phone sex?

Radio sex?

“That doesn’t sound like a bad place to be, come to think of it,” he mused playfully.

He then added with as much cheek to match his marefriend:

“Something tells me, though, that you’d be the one to prefer me burying my dick into you… with your personality, you’re definitely a sub at some point,” he prodded.

“Hmmmm on occasion…” came the response.

Such a response, however, was quickly followed up with a teasing tone that only mares of Stella’s caliber were even remotely capable of:

“Would ye like to find out which position I prefer, Fredrick?”

Fred’s heart rate shot up immediately, and he could feel it pounding in his ribcage, rattling its prison bars and demanding release from his chest cavity. He gulped once, his earlier confidence waning only a teeny bit. While he didn’t like rushing into one-night stands in the past, this was well past that point. To say that he did not want to have sex with Stella would have him sanctioned under the mental health acts of Equestria.

“I really would, Stel.’”

Another conniving giggle emanated from the earpiece, along with a cute yawn.

But further, Fredrick felt he distinctly heard a struggled whine, borderline moan. His ears had never really failed him and that sounded much too strained to be a side effect of her yawn… so that would mean…

“Are… are you touching yourself??” Fred ventured to ask, genuine curiosity lacing his features.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. Maybe mind yer own fuckin’ business.”

After loosing a pent up laugh of his own, Fredrick borrowed some confidence from his future self and, shakily, presented an alternative as smoothly as possible:

“W-Well, maybe you could, you know, get your ass over here and I'll do it for you?”

Instead of provoking a sexy reaction like he had hoped, Stella, instead, burst into rapturous laughter.

She was lucky that her specific laugh was always contagious.

“Fuck me, mate, you sound like a school colt askin’ tae see his first set of tits,” she giggled out through pauses in her fit.

Fredrick rolled his eyes and flushed away any unnecessary embarrassment that that little episode lavished onto him. However, Stella beat his response with a prompt follow up once she calmed down with a pleasant sigh.

“Yeah, well, yer just gonna have to wait, mate. As much as I’d love to just pin you down and suck you dry, among other things…” she began, pausing for dramatic effect as well as to elicit some reaction from Fred.

His disappointment was palpable.

“Oh… yeah?” he asked, cueing her to continue.

“...I don’t particularly find gettin’ knocked up so good for my career. Nor do I think you wanna be a dad at the moment. Ovulatin’ like a motherfucker I’ll fuckin’ tell ye.”

In a moment of clarity, Fred’s nerdiness shined through and as such, he felt the need to correct the record.

“Well, actually, I was curious about this when the topic of ‘heat’ came up four months ago with Celestia and Luna. I’m actually not genetically compatible enough for human sperm to fertilize an egg viably, though it can be done,” he explained.

He then finished off with:

“It’d require magical intervention.”

After his last words, it sounded like the line went dead. There was nothing.

Not a peep.

And the only indication that Stella even heard the question was her suddenly breaking the silence with a resounding:

“...What?”

“Yeah!” Fred replied. “Can’t knock you up even if I wanted to.”

This time, he knew for a fact the line went dead. The interesting thing was that before the connection abruptly cut off, he could have sworn he heard something that sounded like a door slamming.

“Stella?” Fredrick called through the receiver.

Nothing, as expected.

“Hm. Bad connection,” he thought to himself, hefting the device off his bed and setting the receiver close by.

He figured that Stella would re-establish connection within a few moments. But, those moments turned into minutes… and he then gandered that she would not be coming back on the line.

Shrugging, he set the receiver aside and lay back on his bed to get comfortable as he had before. Resting his eyes yet again to attempt to quell his still-present erection, his mind drifted back to the latter half of the conversation they were having.

Then it hit him.

His eyes shot open when he distinctly remembered hearing the door slam on his end of the line.

And coincidentally, his door then rattled on its hinges with an enormous crash, forcing him ramrod on his ass.

“Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeedriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiick~...” came a drawn out, sultry call in an ever-familiar Scottish drawl that was always the harbinger of ‘interesting’ things to come.

Not this time.

Still, despite the sudden rush of unease that broke over his body, Fred had to remind himself that it was just his marefriend outside of the door.

“Uhh… the door’s unlocked, Stel’.”

He barely got her name out of his mouth before the mare in question barged in and slammed the offending slab of ebony wood closed.

Fredrick had to come to grips with what he was looking at.

There stood Stella as she had many times before, though she was breathing very heavily, like she had just done a PT regimen. Clad in, surprisingly, only a plain indigo bra and mesh shorts, her coat and mane complemented the choice in attire with neither being neatly groomed at all. Though in its typical ponytail fashion, Stella’s locks were messily put together, frizzy and unkempt. Her eyes, though, were what took the cake:

Her irises were enormous currently… and Fredrick was not entirely sure if they were even the same size.

Stella sported an, admittedly, unnerving, teeth-baring smile… just to top it all off.

While there was some innate sexiness in seeing this mare so unkempt and unmade in so little attire, Fredrick couldn’t stave off the fact that she looked almost disturbed.

He stared, slack-jawed, at his marefriend who looked even more unpredictable than ever.

Said marefriend’s right eye twitched, and in a move completely unexpected to the gawking human, she pulled a small pistol from her waistband.

As would be thought natural, he reacted a bit harshly, falling off the bed and quickly shuffling to his feet whilst putting distance between her and him with his hands raised.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE!”

He calmed down immediately after, however, when he saw that the barrel was much too narrow.

“Okay that's definitely not real. What the shit is wrong with you??” he dared to ask.

She, however, only closed the aforementioned distance.

“Whip yer fukkin’ tackle out,” she ordered, the ‘r’s in her speech much more heavily accented.

She lazily pointed her pistol at him, and Fredrick rolled his eyes, opening his arms and shrugging in complete confusion.

“You know you don't have to demand right? Besides, where's the ‘please?’”

He flinched harshly when his face was suddenly splattered with cool stream of water three times in quick succession.

Stella gave him no chance to react with words, though, and she quickly made any remaining distance between them negligible. She backed Fredrick right up against the wall.

She then declared flatly:

“It drops its trousers to its shins or else it gets the squirt again.”

She squirted him anyway, and Fredrick grunted and batted the infernal contraption out of her hands.

“Fuck! Can you stop?!”

The batpony appeared to care little for the sudden loss of her little offensive weapon, and instead relied on brawn to tenderly (yet firmly) press Fredrick flush against the wall. She gazed hungrily up into his eyes as she pressed her torso against his in kind, eliciting an equal, reciprocal reaction from him in the form of his hands around her waist.

The almost whiny aspect of her tone made her seem like she was begging:

“Come on, Fred… this shit’s killing me and I’m so fucking horny right now!” she exclaimed.

“Jesus Christ though, you didn’t have to point a fake goddamn gun at me to get me to have sex with you, you know,” Fredrick pointed out.

Stella only looked to him almost condescendingly, cupping his cheek as she further pushed her chest and lower-abs into his own.

“Now tell me, where’s the fun in makin’ a boring entrance, hmmm…?” she asked, running her fingers through his hair, tracing her nails against his scalp.

Fredrick always enjoyed the head-scratches, so he gave her a pass solely based on that.

He lowered his grip down to her butt, and Stella appeared to subtly shudder at the contact; she really was sensitive today.

Fred then countered rhetorically:

“Guess it wouldn’t be ‘you’ if you didn’t make such an entrance, huh?”

“Nope!”

And with that, Stella—quite aggressively at that—smashed her lips against his with a rather profound moan. At barely an instant thereafter, her tongue was already worming its way into Fredrick’s mouth, and while a violation of the sovereignty of his mouth would often be called into question, this was the only exception.

“Mmm…!” Fred groaned in return, pulling Stella as tight as he could against him.

Though, realistically, it was clear who was really in control at the moment.

That’s when his irritation was cast aside, and Fred was suddenly very aware of a smell… a subtle, yet pungent aroma that wafted up from where Stella stood. It was not bad by any means, and in fact it was actually quite… intoxicating. Where once he was in a clear state of mind, his head felt like it was swimming, lightheaded, almost like he had a low-grade fever or a headache though he retained enough clarity to know this was certainly not the case.

And the resurrection of his length confirmed his suspicions.

Putting two and two together, he realized it was she who was indeed emitting this smell… and whatever it was (he had a pretty good idea), it was muddying up his thought process and lowering his inhibitions.

So, he separated and buried his face in the crook of her neck, then took another deep whiff.

Oh boy did Stella smell good.

Whatever hormones or magical fuckery she was emitting with that heat-stricken, pulsing vagina of hers… he did not think he’d get enough of it. He likened it to a cross of fermented sweat (which usually was associated with ‘disgusting’) and a thick, overpowering fruity smell.

Fredrick chomped down on Stella’s neck nice and hard, sinking his teeth against her skin as if he could physically eat the smell by proxy. Naturally, this evoked a more than pleased groan from the batpony, who shuddered mildly at the new, welcome contact.

After a few extra seconds of exchanging little nibbles, giggles, and groans, Stella separated from her coltfriend (though she had to squirm longingly against him first) and gripped him by the nape, digging her nails into his skin whilst staring straight through his eyes.

She had one last tidbit of information to share:

“You know… Equestrian law dictates that all employers grant at the minimum two days every six months of ‘heat leave,’ for both stallions and mares for obvious, amazing reasons…”

Fredrick stared back blankly.

“Wait, you shitting me?”

Stella shook her head, smile as wide as her face.

“Nope! So guess what, I’m calling in yer heat leave right fuckin’ now!” she exclaimed, gripping him by the shirt and hurling him towards the bed.

Fredrick’s knees buckled backward when his legs contacted his bed, and he landed on his back softly, gawking up at a yet-again advancing Stella.

The mare bit her lip, predatorially yet sexily sashaying her way between his legs and leaning right over him.

“You’ve got food, water, an’ alcohol in yer room… whaddya say you gimme a proper fuck?” Stella suggested.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

Fredrick felt he was being naïve at the moment; after all, heat was not exactly glorified as much as he thought it would have. Stella was quite literally throwing herself at him, and since it was painfully obvious (aside from way of erection demanding release from his slacks) that he found her physically attractive, he would be willing to go along with whatever she had planned.

This was a day he thought would not come in a good while… and he was wise to stow his tongue this time around since he actually wanted to get his hands on her boobies this time around.

He lidded his eyes and bit his lower lip in kind, the blood swelling to both his face and crotch, his heart racing beyond levels he thought were possible.

This was it.

He was gonna get some…

…from Stella.

“Hell yes I am!”

Stella grinned lasciviously, her heat-stricken eyes gleaming at his eager answer.

“Good… because yer fuckin’ mine fer the next day and a half, aye?”

“Hot-fucking-diggity giggity fuck yes!”

Then, Stella pounced…

Oh boy HERE WE GO!

Y'all know what's next!

Feel free to leave a comment on this chapter especially, because there's a lot of stuff here that I wanted to cover. Shouldn't be this crowded in the future.

Thanks guys, hope you enjoyed!