Author's Notes:

Sorry for the long wait everyone we wanted the best update we can make

It may have been a dark but starry early morning, but that didn't mean Ponyville rested wholeheartedly. Despite it being a national holiday, the various service ponies were still out in force, handling whatever their assigned tasks were to keep the town in order.

Arguably, the most important tasks during the winter season were plowing, salting, and general maintenance of the many streets and paths, with priority granted to the most heavily trafficked areas. Coffee, tea, and energy drink fueled road crews cleared the way of snow that had been windswept in throughout the night, keeping eyes cast upon the ground for any kind of damage to the roads. Whenever something important was spotted, a few of the orange vested workers would stop to conduct repairs by lamplight.

Garbage disposal ponies trailing behind the road crews went from one residence to another, retrieving the bags of regular and holiday trash left out on the curb and tossing then into the back of their specialized wagon, which compacted it all down at the pull of a lever. All parties were trying their very best to work as quietly as possible in an effort to not disturb those still asleep while still keeping efficiency in mind.

Of course, there were always the more adventurous types out and about who wouldn't dream of missing a single glorious night on the town. Unfortunately for those who liked to burn the midnight oil, all the establishments that stayed open into the night had just closed their doors until noon, forcing their patrons to stumble back home and sleep away the rest of the morning and quite possibly most of the day as well.

Things were considerably less hectic over at the academy, where those students and staff who were staying over winter break were catching the last few minutes of a good night's rest before dawn broke and the extra credit courses began. Besides the troublemakers, there were also many students who weren't falling behind but chose to stay regardless, and would be content to sleep in as late as desired.

One such group had chosen a secluded meeting room on the far side of the library as their resting spot. They were all tucked cozily into their blankets and sleeping bags which were spaced out in front of a low table. The television that sat up there that they had all fallen asleep to had been left on throughout the night, albeit with the volume just above the lowest notch.

Playing on the tiny screen was an early morning infomercial advertising a patent-pending product that looked suspiciously like regular duct tape. As the ponies on screen demonstrated all the wonderful uses for it, the light emitted from the spilled and flashed out onto the five campers.

The griffon of the bunch was curled up atop his covers with forelimbs wrapped around a pillow that should have been reserved for head support, mumbling about his dream griffon.

“... Mmm... Gilda...”

The yak barely fit under her covers, but the trail of drool dripping out her slack jaw and onto them meant that ill-fitting and wet blankets were the least of her concerns. In her visions, Princess Yona was seated at the head of the titanic banquet table inside Yakyakistan's Grand Feasting Hall, ready to devour a plethora of the finest dishes the known world had on offer along with her fellow yaks. If sitting in the biggest chair didn't rightly advertise her newly-earned station, then the big ebony crown on her head and the brass rings over her horns left no room for dispute. They all waited for their newly appointed chieftain to make the first move, and she did so by tossing her much too civilized utensils into the nearby firepit and plunging muzzle first into the bowl of tsuvian noodles.

The hippogriff had unconsciously kicked away her covers long ago and was hanging halfway off her bedroll. Her limbs, which were skewed out at odd angles, would twitch occasionally, and eyes darting around underneath scrunched lids along with a troubled frown showed that her rest was fitful at best. On nights like that, her dreams involved flying and galloping. Mostly galloping...

The other two present – dragon and changeling – were having a relatively dreamless time. They only experienced brief, esoteric flashes that were as random as they were meaningless, and they only stirred a few times over the dark hours.

Off in the dorms, the other students were sleeping more comfortably in their own beds. In the dragon's dorm, a certain big red drake was cuddling a giant pink unicorn plushie to his chest while snoring heavily. A pair of studio grade headphones over his ears played music that he assured everybody he only ever put on to fall, and remain asleep.

A few doors down, an ivory white dragon who was wearing a black t-shirt and nothing else was fast asleep with one leg dangling over the side of the bed. The magazine that was sitting on the pillow next to his head suggested that he liked to read before bed, and the big buff dragon heroically posing on the cover while wearing a pair of all too tight gym shorts was a decent indicator of just what he aspired to be. That, along with a whole host of other dragon-centric goodies the magazine showcased that only the most well-off and elite could afford to enjoy.

Unlike dragons, who typically slept very soundly, the hippogriffs were far more restless. They, like Silverstream, also had lingering effects of being isolated from their natural habitat for so long. The transformation back to the age old norm after years stuck under the sea had been a staggering shock for all involved, and that was especially true for those who were young enough to have been born seapony. They were so accustomed to floating while sleeping that unconscious movements made in the resistance of seawater were greatly exaggerated on land, which resulted in tossing and turning at best and tumbling onto the unforgiving floor at worst. That restlessness was countered by taking proactive measures to prevent injuries like pushing beds up against walls on one side, and using a side rail to secure the open side or simply placing some soft items on the ground to break any falls.

The older teens who had enough years behind them to remember life on the surface didn’t have nearly as hard a time adjusting as those younger, but many did carry terrible emotional baggage with them that caused restless nights all the same.

The griffons easily had the most students staying over the holiday break, with almost three-fourths of their number contently purring away over the fact that they wouldn't have to make the long flight back home only to wind up braving a harsher Griffonstone winter. Most of them either came from broken homes, or were orphaned altogether, and those who were didn’t want to go back to that anytime soon.

Changelings were a whole different matter entirely. Only a select few bugs were staying behind, and those were the ones who weren't taking their studies as seriously as would have been hoped. A youth under a tyrant's iron hoof where friendship was outright stomped out had made it all the more challenging for the Children of the Hive to adapt to the sudden change in their social structure. They had mostly shunned the values the school was trying to espouse and instead stuck to the old ways they knew well.

Rather than dress in many different ways and colors like their peers, they had adopted a uniform of sorts with similarities to what was commonplace during Chrysalis's reign. This usually consisted of some kind of black jacket that matched the old carapace coloration over an inconspicuous shirt, dark pants made out of denim or some other utilitarian material, and sturdy combat or construction boots just like Chrysalis's guard and engineers would have worn.

But for the most ardent of them, simply obscuring the new colors wasn't enough, and they had carried the theme on into their living areas as well. All the furniture and appliances that weren't on loan were either purchased in a drab gray or flat black, or had been painted to resemble items used in the old hive, and all the lights had green translucent coverings that would bathe the dorm in nothing but a sickly, radioactive glow.

The yaks wintering in Equestria were by far the noisiest sleepers, and even with their greatly diminished numbers the area still shook from the combined snoring. One male yak was snoozing away despite this – years of sleeping with his big family in their small ger rendering him immune to the racket his kin were known for. There was only one sound that he would ever heed, and the device that emitted it was ticking away on the nightstand.

The mechanical alarm clock was worn around the edges, dented bells adorned the top, and still had a One-Two-Three Bit Store price label stuck to the body. The second hand ticked it's way up from the thirty-second mark, and at about fifteen seconds the hand went behind a nasty scuff in the plastic face that camouflaged its movement until ten. Nine ticks later, the hand was vertical and the alarm bells began to...

RIIING!

The yak's sleep was abruptly ended as the clock went off on its merciless tirade, and a cloven hoof began to blindly hunt down the noisy offender. As soon as the odd shape was felt, the hoof snapped up and then was swatted down with enough force to smash it into pieces. A pile of crushed metal and shattered plastic was all that remained of his quick hoofwork, but he was now half awake, which meant the alarm served its purpose.

“Damn pony clocks,” he yawned and then began to mumble. “Can’t take gentle tap. Yak clock would have no such problem.”

Once the sheets were kicked away and the yak had assumed a sitting position on the edge of the bed, he briefly examined the pile of plastic and metal, snorting with a mild disdain. He had learned over time living in pony land that smashed clocks weren't something to get bent out of shape over. They may not have been as robust as yak models, but they were readily available and dirt cheap to replace. Another one would be in the spot by nightfall, just like the dozens that preceded it.

His eyes roved over to the window next, and after wiping the bleariness away, he could see that it was much too early for sunrise. For a clueless moment, he wondered why he'd set the clock to ring at such an unholy hour, but one sidelong glance at the giant instrument residing on its stand next to the bed reminded him of what needed to be done.

With a hearty breath, he pushed off of the bed and stood on refreshed hind legs. Forelimbs were stretched into the air and he began to work the kinks out of his back. After rotating his upper body several times to get all the stiffness out, he made for the bathroom. The first order of business once there was to do what every guy did first thing in the morning, which was to make a yellow, trickling waterfall into the toilet bowl.

After finishing that natural process, he flushed it away and turned his attention to getting into the shower. Night clothes were stripped off, the shower door was pulled open, and he stepped in to mindlessly turn the water on.

“Ahhh! Cold!!!”

If he was only awake enough to stumble around before, then the frigid blast coming out of the showerhead finished that process in the blink of an eye. A desperate hoof brought the handle closer to center, and once a temperature just above ambient was achieved he grabbed up a bar of floral soap and set to work.

A good scrubbing later, he saw himself out of the shower and rubbed his fur and mane down with several large dry towels. The next stop was the sink, where he brushed his teeth and took care of all the other things necessary to keep hygienic. After finishing up the bathroom tasks by running a coarse comb through mane and beard, the teenage yak gave himself a final once over in the mirror, nodding in satisfaction at the results.

He left the bathroom and went directly to his wardrobe, where he reached in and pulled out a pair of fresh boxer shorts. Once those were on, he grabbed his green deel off its hook and donned it. The traditional garment of his people was a long, baggy-sleeved robe that reached halfway down the hind legs and was fastened round the waist by a golden silk sash that was tied together.

With the main choice of clothing on, he pulled his wool socks and hoofmade boots onto his hooves. It was true that the average yak didn’t need much in the way of clothing to keep warm, but even in the mild equestrian winter any protection was welcome. Plus wearing boots would greatly reduce the amount of clean-up later on. The last piece of the puzzle was his backpack, which was made entirely of synthetic materials that had been mass-produced in a factory rather than on an artisan’s loom. After a month of daily use, It already had a few places where the nylon was beginning to fray, but the yak needed someplace to store his things.

Fully kitted out, he headed for the door, but a sudden remembrance stopped his restless hooves.

Next to the bed was his pride and joy. The yovidaphone was lit up dimly by the lamp on the nightstand, which was the only light on in the room at that point. The massive instrument had its own ornately carved stand that it sat proudly upon, and he went over to retrieve it. The only way to effectively handle and play it was to cradle the mass of the airbag under the left forelimb and pick it up with the elongated mouthpiece hanging just below the player’s muzzle, and the five massive horns going around the back and up overhead. With everything now set for travel, he was ready to head over to the musical department for some solo practice before hitting the town.

Then the gears in his mind started turning.

Yaks had been barred from playing their bigger instruments outside thanks to a few broken windows and one too many noise complaints. For that reason, Twilight was adamant that the only place to play the beautiful instruments was inside a magically sound-insulated studio, which the yaks begrudgingly agreed to. But now that the headmare wasn’t around…

With a wry grin, he set off on his hind legs to go and make some noise, but this time, it would be in a place much more suited to a yak.

The wooden pipes of the yovidaphone clacked together softly as the yak made his way down the hall towards a small alcove where a few vending machines hummed away. Once at the vendors, bits were fished out by the only free hoof and pushed into the coin slots. But as he pressed the buttons and started tob receive the chosen snacks and beverages, he concluded that he wouldn’t be able to carry everything with one forelimb alone, and setting a yovidaphone on ground that wasn’t yak would be sacrilege.

“Bah! Yak can’t carry full first breakfast in free hoof! In pack it goes!”

Setting his haul onto the floor, he carefully shrugged off the backpack that was such a struggle to get on before, and the half-dozen or so granola bars and almost as many cans of sweetened tea were all crammed inside. With one of those bars carefully held by the wrapper in his teeth, the bag was zipped and brought back onto his shoulders, and with a free hoof once more, he grabbed the granola bar and pulled it to the side to tear it open.

He munched on his waking snack while navigating the corridors to the main entrance and the world beyond. Said world was absolutely freezing, and the puffs of visible breath coming out of his mouth and nose made no secret of this, but that was hardly a deterrent. The path that led to the best place to play made its way around the back of the school and had only been lightly dusted by the white stuff, so that part of the journey was simple enough. Beyond the school grounds, the path hadn’t been as well maintained, and he was forced to trudge onward through ever thickening forest and deepening snow.

After a few more minutes travel under the snow-laden pines, he emerged into an upward sloping moonscape of boulders and incredibly rocky ground. The higher winds on the mountain had done a good job of keeping the narrow hoof path that snaked up through the boulders visible, and a sign warned of the dangers of trotting the path to the summit alone. Of course, this was of no matter for yaks, who were well equipped to-

The yak almost came crashing down as his hoof slid out on an icy patch, but he was able to regain balance and carry on. “Pony sign forgot to mention ice on trail,” he grumbled softly, his complaint lost to the whipping winds.

Finally, after a somewhat treacherous climb and a few ear pops, he pulled himself onto the summit of the mountain, and the view was spectacular. Down in the valley below, he could spot some of the windows of the academy he had departed a half-hour ago lit in yellow. The giant star atop the nextdoor friendship castle was illuminated in its usual soft white, and the streets of the settlement beyond twinkled under amber lamplight. For the particular time of year, multicolored strands of lights along with many other decorations had been strewn over the buildings and yards like yarn, which added coloration to the scene.

With the view now admired, the yak picked out a flat and level boulder that was relatively smooth and sat down upon it. He then placed the yovidaphone in his lap and slid the backpack off his withers. The pack was unzipped, and a portable, telescopic music stand was pulled out – which was set up just before him. A booklet of sheet music written in a language that only yaks or very well read ponies could understand was the next thing to see the open air, and he flipped through the pages until he found the piece he desired. It was then folded over and put on the stand, with a few clips keeping the page from turning in the wind.

All that was left on the to-do list was to ready the instrument itself – which he did so by cradling the airbag under his left forelimb once again and giving it a small squeeze. The note that came out wasn’t anywhere near desirable without the woodwind component, but it did prove that it was ready for use. He then got his pipes ready.

“Yak. Yak, yak, yak. Yaaak-ack-ack!”

With a discouraged frown, the yak had to contend with the fact that his throat was still quite dry despite being awake for little over an hour now. Since he was born into a society of the great white north, he understood quite well how the dried air negatively affected the throat and nasal passages, but he grinned when he remembered the dozen cans of grandyak’s cough medicine stuffed into the bottom of his bag. Without much care for anything else in the sack, a can of the natural tea was hoofed out and the tab was popped. After shotgunning the entire thing in one endless gulp, he happily belched out a stomachfull of air and smashed the tall can against his horned forehead.

With his body now ready to play the flagship instrument of his kind, he brought the mouthpiece up, and as the sky began its transition into dim blue dawn, began to play.

Gallus was having one of the best times of his life.

He was on the edge of a cushy bed in an equally cushy room, the fabrics a deep maroon color and the walls a dark purple. The thundering of the techno music from the dancehall on the floor below was only barely muffled by the shag carpeting and the heavy velvet curtain that covered the only exit. But why would he ever want to leave?

Especially when she was right there with him.

Gilda was the perfect griffon. Big, bold, brash, and beautiful, she was the hen that the adolescent had been lusting over for the past few years. The main attraction was the fact that unlike other prospects who only ran their beaks and nothing else, she was able to back up her feisty attitude with physical prowess. If there was ever any doubt of that in the younger bird’s mind. It had been torn asunder by the chain of events that had brought them together that night.

“Wow, G,” he gushed. “That was awesome, the way you kicked that guy’s ass back there while I kept his buddies off yours!”

“Yeah, it sure was.” A scaly yellow forelimb wrapped around Gallus’s body and pulled him close. “But you were awesome too.”

Acting on impulse, he wrapped a forelimb around her in return. She leaned in and spoke softly.

“And since you were such a sweetheart for buying me drinks afterward, how would you like to take my tits for a spin. If you do a good job pleasing me, you might get a kiss as well.”

Her sincere grin along with the excitement of the moment caused Gallus’s pulse to heighten, and his member to get even harder than it already was. This was compounded even further by the dream hen stripping off her black top that had its sleeves and midriff torn off, and torn denim shorts. Those were tossed on top of her military-esque gray jacket which had several decorative chains looped over the left pauldron that was resting on the bed. And on the floor next to the bed were her oversized boots with several decorative belts near the top of the ankle.

“You know...” Gilda laid back on the bed and wiggled around in search of a comfy position. “I always liked you. Even though you can be such a dweeb sometimes.”

The blue griffon couldn’t have possibly wiped the stupid grin off his beak even if he wanted to, so he used it to his advantage instead. “If that’s the case, then let me show you how much of a dweeb I am.”

With that little bit of flirtation out of the way, Gallus crawled over to Gilda and straddled her reclined form. He got started with some exploratory rubbing, trying to find the most sensitive area. He found it in between her massive breasts, and a small gasp confirmed it. Without delay, he brought his beak down in between them and started motorboating like there was no tomorrow.

Gallus wrapped his forelimbs tighter around his pillow, pressing his face deep into the soft cushion. To an outsider, it would just look like the griffon loved snuggling with a good pillow, but in his mind, it was oh so much more.

After a few minutes of playing with his dream griffon’s breasts, he halted his efforts and looked up at her with a crooked smile. “How was that?”

Gilda laughed. “Wow, I figured you’d be terrible at foreplay, but you surprised me there.” Her voice then took on a more sultry tone. “I suppose I owe you that kiss now.”

Gallus’s smile widened, and he leaned in for his prize. But before he could connect, something in his mind stopped him. He was about to make out with Gilda Ironclaw, the closest thing to an actual griffon friend he had, and by far the most eligible hen in the country. He could feel her well-toned muscles under his talons, could feel her sweet, hot breath on his beak, could feel…

“Hey! Griffonstone to dumbass! Snap out of it!”

A large set of talons slapped into the side of his face brought Gallus back to his senses, and he shook his head to get his thoughts in order.

“What?! You don’t want a kiss?”

He immediately stopped shaking his head. “Wha-, n-no. I was just, uhh, stretching my neck. Yeah...”

“Well, if that’s all, then stop wasting my time and honk!!!”

“Umm… what?” he asked in confusion.

Gilda’s tone was more forceful this time. “I said quit yer gawkin’ and honk toot honk!!!”

“But I don’t understand what you are saying!”

Suddenly, Gilda’s beautiful golden eyes turned into a pair of yak horns, and her beak transformed into a gigantic brass horn. The horn's bellow – and Gallus’s response – were almost instantaneous.

“Hooonnnkk!!!”

“Aaaahhhh!!!”

With a wailing shout, Gallus shoved away from his pillow as quickly as his just woken body would allow. Unfortunately, during the night his bedding had migrated towards the table, and in his frantic state he wound up smacking his head on the wooden underside.

“Gah! Sonofabitch!” he screamed in pain while instinctively bringing his talons around to the back of his head.

With tears starting to form in the corners of his eyes, he flopped back down onto his blanket and curled up into a tight ball. After a few seconds of nursing the throbbing injury, the pain faded to a dull ache and he made a second attempt at getting up.

Once upright, Gallus glanced over the other sleepers and saw that Silverstream, Yona, and Smolder were still quite out of it. He sighed in relief, believing that he only had a vivid imagination to fear. Then he saw Ocellus, who was notoriously a very light sleeper, rise up into a sitting position and rub at her eyes with a dainty hoof. Their eyes met a second later, and she softly asked him...

“Did you hear some kind of bellowing just now?”

Gallus blushed lightly, feeling a little ashamed at the fact that he'd let a stupid nightmare get to him and the inplication that he'd woken the changeling with his outburst.

“That was my bad. Just woke up a little too quickly is all.”

“Oh, okay,” Ocellus replied unassuredly. “It sounded so real...”

Hoooooonnnk!

“Eep!”

The noise that Gallus thought had been confined solely to his dreams-turned-nightmares peeled out true once again, accept this time it was in reality and it caused the massive glass panes overhead to rattle ominously in their moorings. The suddenness and intensity of the disturbance forced Ocellus to skitter away from the windows for safer ground. In her haste to flee, the changeling tripped over the exposed network cable and toppled onto Silverstream's sleeping form. The hippogriff’s response to being hit with force while resting was to screech in shock and confusion while rocketing out of the danger zone and towards the ceiling.

The screech was enough to jolt Smolder awake, and she jumped to her feet and started scanning around for the threat. “What! What’s going on! Where is it!”

Her sense of sight detected nothing accept an agitated Silverstream frantically zooming around the glass ceiling, but her sense of hearing was put to the test by the sound that started it all.

Tooooot!!!

“And what in the dragon lord’s name is that sound!”

Bwaaaaaa!!!

Smolder clutched at the sides of her head, trying in vain to block it out and save her eardrums. “Torch almighty! It sounds like a dragon that tried to fuck a gem with a hole in it and got his dick stuck!”

Yona, unfazed by the ridiculous noise, rose slowly to her hooves. Her unbraided brown mane completely obscured her face, with only her wide muzzle poking out. After trying to blow the hair away several times with little result, she pulled it back with a hoof to reveal her bleary eyes.

“Is it... time for breakfast already?”

Brrrrrrrt!!!

Silverstream lost control of her flight, barely missing the table full of their personal computers and crashing directly into Yona, who easily cushioned the impact. This loss of coordination did nothing to slow down the hippogriff’s mind however, and she quickly voiced her opinion of the sound.

“It sounds like a constipated whale trying to take a number two.” A talon was brought up in contemplation. “Or was that a megalodon…?”

Everybody else present except for Yona followed Smolder’s example and cowered down as the sound blasted through the area once again. To their growing consternation, they realized that what were assumed to be random noises had conglomerated into something that was starting to sound more and more like an actual musical number.

Gallus was the first to give up on trying to block out the noise, dropping his forelimbs and stalking into the center of the room.

“I don’t know what or who that is, but I’m gonna shut them the fuck down! Nobody should be making that much noise at whatever time it is?!”

He held up his wrist to look at his cheap, ten-bit watch, and as soon as he did, he took to the air with fire in his eyes.

“Six in the fucking morning!” He started zipping back and forth past the windows, head turned towards the wilderness. “Alright! Where is that coming from?!”

Eventually, he came to a hover, and his eyes zoomed onto a lone figure sitting atop one of the many small mountains that ringed the valley. He could see clear as day that it was a yak, and that the instrument he was playing was most likely the cause of their rude awakening. No more time was wasted taking in details, and he started to bang on the glass, his angered state clouding the fact that not only could the windows have been opened to allow passage outside, but that there was also no way that his voice alone could carry that far.

“Hey! What’s the big idea playing your gods damned whatever the fuck it is at this time! Don’t you know birds are sleeping right now for the fucking winter break!”

Despite all his banging and screaming, the yak continued to play, the tempo picking up as he really got into it. With a growl, Gallus gave up on stopping the racket and went over to a dark corner near Ocellus’s broken down mainframe to sulk.

“If yak friends interested, those are sounds of yovidaphone.”

Smolder looked at Yona in absolute shock. “That’s a yovidaphone?!”

“Yup, best instrument ever created by yakkind. It makes most beautiful melodies in world.”

Gallus could only handle a few seconds of being out of the discussion before jumping back in. “If it’s the best instrument ever created, and it has the most beautiful melodies, then why does it sound like a dragon with his cock stuck in a small hole or a whale taking a shit, as they suggested?”

Yona could only shrug in response. “He or she’s learning to play it.”

The griffon chuckled mirthlessly. “Clearly. And how long will that take?”

“It takes years of study and practice for yak to become master yovidaphonist. Yona has no idea why this isn’t known to griffon, don’t you pay attention in music class?”

“I do pay attention in music class! I’ve just never heard one outside the studio before!”

A particularly nasty, bellowing note once again battered the building, and Gallus answered back with a flat tone of his own.

“And now I know why.”

Smolder brought her palms up to her face and rubbed at her eyes. “Well, there's no point in trying to go a few more hours with all that racket. May as well move our stuff back and get ready for the day.” She winced in pain when another shrieking note rolled through.

Ocellus gave one of her legs a long stretch, and then she began stretching and flexing her translucent insectoid wings. “It’s no fun getting up this early.” With a soft and satisfying pop from one of her wing joints, the changeling tucked the wings away and smiled. “But on the upside, we can get first pickings of breakfast.”

With Silverstream and Yona voicing their assent and Gallus grumbling his, they all set their minds and bodies to the task of dismantling the indoor campsite, picking up their used bedding and whatever else had been brought in. Smolder knew two trips would be necessary to get everything back to the dorm, but was torn on whether to take the television or the sleeping bag first. While she situated her load so as to carry it under one arm and possibly carry everything back in one go, something slipped out of pocket, which went unnoticed for the time being.

After a few awkward attempts that almost resulted in serious damage to the TV, the dragon elected to just leave it for now and just get on with things. Turning toward the exit, she made ready to fly, but when she trod far enough away from the table for Gallus to spot the fallen item, the griffon swooped in to helpfully scoop them up.

“Yo, Smolder! You dropped your…”

The balled-up bit of fabric unfolded when the griffon picked it up and revealed that it wasn’t just fabric. He didn’t need to know what was hanging from the end of his claw, the frills and cursive writing on it already told him everything.

Smolder had stopped and spun on her heel to see what had fallen, but her arms went weak and her face burned like a fire ruby as the bundle held within them fell just in front of her feet. In his claws were the panties she was almost perpetually embarrassed to admit to owning.

Gallus continued to stare at the panties, until he glanced up into the dragon’s shocked reptilian eyes and the more juvenile part of his mind kicked in, causing him to grin mischievously.

“Bad dragon girl, huh?”

Any scant hope of being able to just play the situation off without too much fuss was dashed for Smolder as she heard the other three turn away from their burdens to come closer and see what was up. They were initially unsure of the nature of the hangup due to Smolder standing in their view, but once they got into better positions they were better able to formulate reactions.

Yona raised a skeptical eyebrow that was partially obscured by her unruly mane, not understanding the importance behind underwear that looked to be a few sizes too small.
Silverstream’s pile of blankets was scattered to the floor as she began to wring her talons together in excitement. Ocellus was curious, though she still retained her load of bedding.

“Bad dragon girl?” the changeling inquired cutely.

Gallus spun the panties around so she could see the sweeping font across. When she got closer, she read the text and blushed. “Oh wow, it really does.”

Silverstream bounded over to Ocellus’s side and spoke with giddiness on her tongue. “I know, right?! I got a sneak peek last night!”

The griffon gasped. “Woah! For real?!”

Smolder struggled to get out of her embarrassing stupor and get her mind in gear. She had to find a way to end the situation as quickly as possible and get her panties back in the process.

“I take it you wore these yesterday and forgot to put them away after?”

“I-I-I ummm…”

In that brief moment of trying to dumbly respond to Gallus’s question, the way out came to the forefront of the dragon’s thoughts. Acting on impulse more than anything else, she ran up to the griffon without warning and grasped the thong in her right claw. Her left latched onto his upper forelimb and she held him still, delivering a knee directly into his exposed egg bag.

The effect was undeniable.

The griffon’s eyes bulged out of their sockets and the pupils shrank to pinpricks when his brain began receiving signals of agony from the male bits that had been hit, and he was only able to choke out a minuscule sound in turn as his legs gave out. He had also relaxed his grip on the panties, and they slid out of his claws and into Smolder’s without issue.

She then heard the collective gasp and wince from the other three and could see that they had all recoiled back a step. Everyone, even the brutish Yona, had a look of empathic pain on their faces. Even though the didn’t truly know how painful it would be for any guy to get hit there, they could only imagine.

Smolder watched her apprehensive friends, then glanced back at the thong in her claws with its lettering still visible to all and proceeded to take flight, zooming past the other three and out the room at a pace that would give Professor Dash a run for her bits.

With the initial shock subsiding, Gallus curled into a ball of misery for the second time that morning, with talons tucked firmly between his hind legs. He tried not to cry as he held his balls and did his best to massage the pain away, and after doing that for a few seconds he managed to whimper out.

“Why…? She didn’t have to do that…”

He started to cough softly, which of course made any headway in the pain-relieving department completely irrelevant. As he languished there on the floor, he was dimly aware of the other three coming over to check on him.

“Will friend of Yona’s be alright?”

His response came out strained and strangled. “I-I’ll be fine… It’s not l-like I haven’t taken hits there before… ow...”

Yona grimaced. “Yak has seen firsthoof how painful getting hit in that area can be. One big strong male yak back in hometown tried to fight small meek female yak. He thought smaller yak could be pushed around, but she just ducked under first punch and kicked both back hooves straight into no-go zone. He couldn’t walk straight for whole week after, and jewels stayed up in him for same amount of time.”

Gallus chuckled lightly, being careful this time to not use his diaphragm too much. “W-wow, hearing about other guys getting kicked between the legs and being crippled for a week really makes me feel better. Thanks, Yona. Just... Ah! Just give me a few to get a second wind in me.”

Knowing that Gallus was bruised but otherwise fine, Yona turned away from him and looked to her other friends. “Do any of you know why Smolder would react so violently to griffon picking up dropped undies?”

Ocellus looked just as clueless as the yak felt, but Silverstream – who had a hint of red below her eyes and was nervously toying with her hair – had the answer.

“Well, when I was helping her move her system, I stumbled across her panties and I might have teased her about them a bit. She was really shy about it, but I don’t understand why. I’m able to wear mine without shame. See?”

Both Ocellus and Yona watched with ever-widening eyes as Silverstream turned around to point her butt in Gallus’s general direction and grabbed the top of her pants. They both knew that any kind of stimulation would only bring agonizing pain back to the griffon, and they tried to get the hippogriff to stop.

“Silver! Don’t do that! It’ll only-!”

Heedless of the attempted warning courtesy of Ocellus, Silverstream pushed her pants halfway down her legs and stood up straight for all to see. And see they did – one more so than the others.

Gallus got an eyeful of a curvy hippogriff behind scantily clad in the same type of lingerie that had been in his claws a few seconds prior, but this one had Boy Toy written across the back. When the blue tail swished off to the side to offer an even better view, a warmth of pleasure radiated through his core, only for that feeling to be eclipsed by excruciating pain as his injured member began to enlarge.

“Grrr! Gah! Ah! Ah!” The griffon began gasping and huffing as he continued to grow, and holding his claws over the bulge in his pants didn’t help matters either.

“Huh?” Silverstream glanced behind herself and down at Gallus. “You okay down there, because I-”

“Silver!!!”

Both Yona’s and Ocellus galloped over to stop Silverstream and put an end Gallus’s suffering. When they reached the silly hippogriff, they both grabbed her pants and pulled up. Ocellus was gentle in her efforts, barely moving them, but Yona yanked up hard enough to lift the hippogriff into the air and make her yelp in both discomfort and surprise.

As soon as Yona dropped her back to the ground, Silverstream started fervently rubbing her rear end where her pants had ridden up. “Hey! Not too hard, okay!”

As for the main recipient of the impromptu show, he was struggling to get into a sitting position while still groaning and huffing. Figuring that he would need some assistance this time around, Yona knelt next to him and helped him lean up against the nearby table leg.

“Can Yona get griffon anything to ease pain, like ice pack?” the yak asked while rubbing Gallus’s back.

“Nngh! I don’t know if ice will help with this.” Gallus let his head fall for a second, pondering the best pain reliever. He then looked up. “A-actually, a nice, cold soda would be nice. I’ll pay you back later.”

“Sure, no problem.”

While Yona galloped off to get the soda, Gallus leaned heavily against the table leg and nursed his injury. He occasionally glanced over towards the Gem-Matrix cabinet that Ocellus was aimlessly examining, and she glanced at him in turn, but neither could come up with anything worthwhile to say. Silverstream was also a bust when it came to conversation, with the hippogriff having flown off to gods knew where.

After a few minutes of silence, the sounds of heavily weighted hooves echoed ever louder from the doorway, and Yona bounded through the exit a few moments later. She skidded to a stop before Gallus and produced the ice-cold soda which she hoofed over to the griffon, who stuffed it down the front of his pants and waited for the relief.

“That’s, ah! Yeah, that does the trick,” Gallus groaned as the freezing can numbed the area out.

“You think you’re capable of getting up now?” Yona inquired as she held out her hoof.

He tried to lean forward and accept the offered help, but a jolt through his nerves told him that getting up that way wasn’t going to happen. So instead of that, he leaned to the side and onto his talons, then gingerly got his quivering hind legs under his body and stood up.

“Alright, I’m good,” he mumbled to himself, then addressed the other three – Silverstream having rejoined them a second prior with a few random books in her claws. “Okay guys, let’s just forget this whole thing happened and get on with our morning. After we shower and grab breakfast I’ll fly to Sandbar’s and pick him up, then we can head to the store.”

“Sounds good,” the hippogriff chirped.

“Yak ready to do battle!” Yona roared.

“Mmm-hmm.” Ocellus softly mumbled.

With a slightly hobbled walk, Gallus gathered his things up and made for his dorm. Others followed suit, with Yona undertaking the additional task of returning the television back to Smolder in one piece.

Smolder cupped the lukewarm tapwater in her claws and splashed it into her face.

The water not only helped her awaken fully, but also worked to drive away any remnants of the furious blush that had already faded considerably during the flight back to the safety of her dorm. After briskly rubbing the water into her dry eyelids and facial scales, she killed the faucet and moved to slide the door to the already running shower open and entered through the wafting steam. The water spraying out the showerhead and soaking the dragon would have been scalding to any other creature, but the highest temperature setting was just enough to keep her comfortable, even though something as close to boiling as possible would have been preferred.

On any given school day, Smolder would almost always find herself in a mad rush to get freshened up and out the door before breakfast and roll-call, but the rude awakening coupled with the fact that school was out for more than just the weekend gave her plenty of time to kill. With that in mind, the dragon decided to go in for a much more thorough cleaning than what was usual. She grabbed a bottle of a rather gritty shampoo off the rack, squirted some into her left claw, and lathered herself up from top to bottom. Next, she grabbed a stone about the size of a pony’s hoof that was wrapped in cloth and unfurled the covering to reveal the actual rock with several holes drilled into it. The same shampoo was poured into each hole, and when they were full she wrapped it back up and got to work.

She rubbed it all over her chest, ran it up and down her legs and arms, and carefully navigated it around her wing joints. As this was happening, old, coarse scales were falling from the treated areas and littering up the bottom of the shower. This was of no concern to the young dragon as the drains for their showers and sinks were specifically built to handle shed dragonscale without clogging.

Her tail along with the most sensitive areas were next, and as she brought the dubiously useful appendage around and set to scrubbing, thoughts drifted to her rude awakening. The yak playing his obnoxious instrument wasn’t that big of a deal compared to her issues with self-image. Dragons were supposed to be fearsome warriors who took crap from nobody and gave nothing in return. They weren’t supposed to be into nice soft frilly things like panties and dresses, but as she ruminated further on it, the clearer her conclusion became.

It was irritating to be teased about it, but that was no excuse. I better apologize to him as soon as I can.

The cleansing stone suddenly slipped out of the cloth, and she tried to catch it before it clattered against the tile. She almost lost her footing and wiped out, but her feet were able to find the anti-slip strips which helped her remain upright. With more caution, she bent down and picked up the stone and set it back on its shelf, replacing it with a long-handled shower brush which held a similar stone that was for her hard to reach back. After rubbing that up and down for a minute or so, the cleansing stone brush was hung back on it’s hook and Smolder let the warm water wash the shampoo away.

Her thoughts drifted inward once again, and this time she lamented her overreaction to anything remotely embarrassing. Damn it, I gotta get my emotions in check. I need to be more laid back like Silverstream and not let small things get under my scales.

She quickly backtracked on that one. Maybe not Silverstream. She’s great and all, but that bird can also be a real airhead at times.

Once all the grit was on it’s way down the drain, she picked up a much smoother polishing stone and essentially mirrored the same pattern as before, swapping it with a handled version near the end as well. Now complete, she ran a hand down her arm and felt the fresh scales. They were now smooth and rounded, greatly reducing any irritating snags on clothing and more importantly, wouldn’t have the potential of hurting her friends. They also had a bit of a sheen as well, but they would dull down after some exposure to dry air. As the dragon cleaned up her shower so it would be ready to go next time, she idly thought about how her friends might be utilizing their extra time.

“Yak song! Yak song! Not very long, sing it again! Yak song! Yak song…!”

Yona softly bounced on her hind hooves in her oversized shower, happily bellowing out the song of her people without a second thought. Water from the portable showerhead in her hooves flew everywhere as she rinsed the soap out of her dense fur. Unlike their dragon classmates, yaks did not have such a great tolerance for heat, and thus preferred to bathe in cooler water – just like they would back home.

Now thoroughly rinsed, she put the showerhead back in its holder and grabbed a ceramic vase off of the soap rack and removed the lid. The fresh scents of the various cleansing herbs condensed in a small space overtook her sense of smell – intoxicatingly so. Glad to know that the mixture was still as strong as the day it was prepared, she gave it all one last hearty sniff and then upended the vase overhead, dumping the contents all over her head and body.

“Soap? Check. Shampoo? Check. Brushes? Check. Alright, everything’s in order.”

With all her bathing equipment sorted into a neat row on the shelf, Ocellus set her shower faucet directly between medium and hot. Due to her upbringing and lifestyle centered around efficiency, the changeling always chose to bathe as quickly as possible with a very basic lather and rinse.

Back during Chrysalis’s reign, her nation had been under a military dictatorship and resources were closely regulated. Water was one such commodity, and the diminutive changeling still very clearly remembered getting water passes from the edgy guards and bathing in the communal showers with her mother holding her hoof. They only had a three-minute window before they had to pack up and leave, but these days she was able to determine the duration, and now afforded herself a whole five minutes to get things done.

Methodically moving from one tool to the next, she ran the bar of soap all around her body, rinsed, applied a vitamin solution that promoted good carapace health, rinsed away the excess and then turned off the water. As the door slid open, an egg timer by the bathroom vanity began to chime away, indicating that her time was up.

“Shoo be doo! Shoo shoo be do! Call upon the seaponies when you’re in distress!”

Unlike Ocellus’s efficient bathing, Silverstream liked to have fun in the shower, and the layer of bubbles that obscured the tile floor and ran halfway up the walls and door was clear evidence of that. A bottle of soap that had been squeezed a few too many times in her claws was the primary culprit of the bubbly mess, but the hippogriff wasn’t daunted and pointed the nozzle towards the ceiling. Giving the bottle another almighty squeeze, a jet of soap shot up several wings into the air before drizzling down onto her exposed back.

She was going to grab a brush to scrub her back with, but the rubber ducky caught the fancy of her spastic mind, so she picked that up instead. With the yellow bath toy in claw, she began to fly it around the shower while humming the rest of her song – occasionally stopping to squeeze out a quack for added effect.

A heavy bass beat filled Gallus’s bathroom, and it was coming from his tape player that was set up next to the sink which had a portable speaker plugged into it. The bathroom was probably the worst place for any kind of audio quality, but the echoey drumbeats didn’t bother the griffon in the slightest.

He briskly scrubbed down his fur with a very cheap plastic brush while moving his body to the beat of the song. The pain in his groin from earlier had mostly subsided – thanks in part to the soothing hot water – and he was pretty much back to his usual boisterous self.

Up to that point in time, the griffon was solely focused on bathing, but when the song reached the chorus, he brought the brush out before his beak like a microphone and began to sing.

"Standing on my feet I'm still alive, I wish I even tried 'cause I never tried. It's better if I even try. I wish to you I was on my way... but you see me as a light… weight."

Now that the song was truly underway, Gallus completely forgot about cleaning and began to dance under the shower, the swimming goggles over his eyes keeping any water from getting in them. His hips now moved to every drum beat and bass note, and his wings began to flutter as well.

"Why keep on picking up the phone? Why is it always on? I'm just a lightweight in your eyes. Why is it always on?

“Against the odds, and through the grain, you would never know me anyway. I'm just a lightweight in your eyes! I'm just a lightweight!

“Taking my chance just to know your name, breaking my bones just to see your face. It's better if I even try, Why keep on picking up the phone? Why is it always on? I'm just a lightweight in your eyes."

At the bridge of the song, the brush was dropped, and with his now free limbs, he began to play air guitar to the keyboard solo. But as he shredded notes and banged his head, an errant wingtip struck a bottle of shampoo on the shelf and knocked it on its side – the top popping open slightly.

The bridge soon ended, and Gallus decided to forego singing the remaining verses and just finish up his shower. Not bothering to locate the dropped brush, he settled for a bar of generic soap and began to lather up his chest and forelimbs, completely clueless to the trail of shampoo that was trickling its way down the wall due to his earlier antics. The song carried on for a few more minutes, giving ample time to finish soaping up his body.

When it began to play its last few notes, Gallus spun in place…

Only for a paw to step down onto the slippery shampoo that had made its new home on the tile, causing him to lose his balance. As he tried to keep himself upright, the other paw found the puddle and he fell flat on his back. The bar of soap chose that moment to launch out of his claws and directly into the air. Shocked azure eyes watched as the bar slowed its ascent until it reached the apex of its travel. It would be coming down next, and the griffon only had time for a quick expletive.

“Shi-!”

The soap not only came down in the direction of his face, but had landed in his wide-open beak. As soon as he could taste the suds on his tongue, he scrambled to all fours and spat the bar out. Gallus spent the next few seconds retching and gagging – first from the nasty taste – and even more so when he realized that the soap was also covered in old dirt and his own hair.

As he hacked away, the song went into its final chorus of…

Still alive…

Still alive…

Still alive!

Still alive, woah!

And a memory of an email he’d received the other day popped into his mind, which dictated his next actions. Blinking away the tears that had formed from all the coughing, he threw the shower door open and scampered over to the sink. The goggles were whipped away, and the griffon quickly grabbed his rarely used toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. A haphazard squeeze of paste onto the bristles later, and he was brushing like there was no tomorrow.

It took several rounds of brushing, swishing, and spitting before Gallus was satisfied, and when he was, he examined the white plastic stick in his grasp that passed for a toothbrush and shook his head.

… and don’t forget to brush your teeth!

“Well,” he gasped. “Looks like they got what they wanted after all.”

Now back to reality, Gallus went to the still running shower and turned it off – leaving the mess inside for a later time. His next stop was the towel rack, where he dried himself with a large green one from beak to paws, making sure to get between his toes and into his ear holes. With drying complete, the towel was hung carelessly back on the rack, and a once over glance in the mirror revealed a few feathers that were askew in his crest.

That just wouldn’t do.

Griffons weren’t very big on symbolism in the modern age, but growing in a crest of feathers was one rite of passage that carried on from earlier times. It meant that you were no longer just a pathetic hatchling – that you were old enough to hang with the big birds – and would be treated with marginally more respect as a result. His foray into what was considered to be adulthood by griffon standards didn’t necessarily go that simply or nicely for the griffon, but it was still important to him nonetheless.

So he went back over to the wash area and began to straighten out the feathers with his claws. The sides were smoothed back, ear tufts were fluffed out, and he began spiking up the topmost feathers. When the crest had been situated, he grabbed the can of feather spray that was kept by the other grooming supplies and lightly dusted his head with the aerosol. When the largest ones on top stood up in the right, stylish place, the can was replaced and Gallus was ready to rock.

Silverstream dipped her claws into a tub of her favorite brand of mane gel and pulled out a sizeable glob. She rubbed the specialty gel imported directly from Mount Aris into her mane, working it in and then pushing the hair up into a mohawk of sorts. The gel was formulated to be water-resistant and allow hippogriffs some flexibility if they wanted to transform and go for a swim. It never lasted forever though and needed to be reapplied almost weekly.

Once the hair on the top of her head had been gelled to her liking, she put the lid back onto the small tub and put it in the medicine cabinet next to the sink. A comb was then picked up, and the hippogriff began pulling it through the back half of her mane. The mohawk and other stiff hairstyles were popular with hippogriffs, but seaponies preferred more soft and wavy styles. Silverstream could never decide what one style to adopt, so she created her own mix of both. A few more swipes of the comb and her trademark manehawk was complete.

Yona pulled a much bigger carved wood brush through her thick mane, It was of dark mahogany, with an intricate bronze inlay on the top and was necessary for thoroughly drying the burly strands. She stopped pulling just before the ends so that they would be held fast by the bristles, and then it was lifted enough to get the business end of a department store hair dryer cranked up to high under it. She would repeat this process time and again over the next few minutes, the hot air taking its time to fully dry things out.

With the thick brown locks finally dry, the dryer was tossed next to the sink and she began to braid the strands together. She was never the most dexterous of yaks, usually letting the more stable hooves of her grandyak handle the braiding, but Yona didn’t have that luxury in Equestria. Professor Rarity had done her best to fill that void by showing her some manedressing techniques to assist. But Rarity was a busy mare, so after the first few examples, it was down to the yak to continue on her own.

After a little over a year of practice, Yona had become proficient to the point that not only did she take pride in her own skill, but other yaks were starting to as well. A few more twists of the hoof were what it took to finish the braid, and the amaranth pins could go in to hold it. With one side done, she repeated the same process on the other.

After their morning bathing rituals, the five now took time to decide on their choice of clothes for the day. Yona wasn’t too picky with her selection, pulling out one of her green dresses from the wardrobe and setting it on the bed. It was no different in color and construction than the one she had taken off before her shower and the five others that hung from their hangars. Yak dress was best dress after all, why alter perfection?

Next, she brought out her undergarments – a plain bra and a pair of underwear that was also in green – and started dressing. They went on easily enough, and with the simple dress overtop, she headed out.

Ocellus clutched at the towel wrapped around her body as she quickly hobbled over to the folding cot that served as her usual resting place and knelt down by its side. She reached under and felt for two grab handles, letting the towel fall open which revealed the pink basic sports bra worn underneath along with its matching thong. Ignoring her shivers for the time being, she pulled outward until the wheeled wooden box that just fit under the bed was clear of obstruction, and lifted open the top to get at fresh clothing.

The hoofbuilt, roll-out dresser had been a space-saving measure necessary to utilize wasted space in a room where that was at such a premium. It was a workable solution to the problem that was big enough to house her entire complement of clothing. The inside was sectioned off into individual compartments for all the different types, with the one holding her hoofwear being biggest. She had pairs for only the most common of occasions, like sandals for the beach and a nice set of hightop athletic pumps for physical education. There was room for more, but the other three types were used so frequently that keeping them on a rug by the door was way more practical.

The smaller spaces were stuffed with all other matter of clothing that if soft, were rolled into tight bundles. This occasionally made identifying certain articles a challenge and bundling them up didn’t help with presentation, but she had to make do with odd wrinkles and creases for the sake of more important devices.

But those days may have finally come to an end.

As the partly cloudy sky moved beyond obscuring the sun, Ocellus was almost blinded by the powerful light coming through the window. Blocking the rays with a forelimb, she forgot all about dressing and stared at where her Gem Matrix used to reside. Once she acclimated enough to not have to squint, the true scope of that knowledge came clear. From the entrance to the head of her cot, the dorm was a normal albeit cramped living space typical of any student. But all the shelves ended right there and beyond that point was a barren expanse of empty walls and floor.

It truly put into perspective how much she was sacrificing to keep that old system running. While she was upset when the mana tube blew, that wasn’t sentiment to the machine so much as disappointment over it failing at such an inopportune moment. The session of gaming had been ruined, but a full night to sleep on things helped in viewing them rationally. Meditating on it would have been even better, but she didn’t need to go that far to understand.

While losing the system was tough, the knowledge that it had traveled so far and dutifully kept running well past its prime left her with bittersweet hope. A computer like that may have been super at its inception, but now it was little more than a curiosity, a relic that belonged in a museum rather than seeing full time service. Even if she could find a replacement tube or somehow created a replica, what then? It was truly only a matter of time before something else went, and when that happened with magic-fuelled supercomputers the results could be catastrophic.

The most pragmatic part of her mind cried that it just wasn’t worth the risk, and to take the golden opportunity that had been presented to her. Of course the more romantic part that wanted to cling desperately to nostalgia and pride was just as vocal, but like most decisions she made, it was practicality that won out in the end..

Getting some seat time behind Sandbar’s modern machine had shown her just how far computers have come in the last few years, let alone decades when compared to her’s. What took a few minutes to happen on the Gem Matrix happened on the new EDM in mere seconds, and that increase in productivity alone warranted an upgrade. That, and far less risk of explosions and fire.

But all of that would be moot if she didn’t finish getting ready for a trip outside. Yesterday, the changeling thought that she had been prepared for a quick jaunt into town, but the sustained chill wasn’t good on her body. This time she wasn’t in such a hurry to get out the door, so she prepared properly by picking out her warmest clothes and layering up. Once she had sat on the corner of the bed and cast the towel to the side, the first thing to go on was a set of thermal underwear that while itchy after extended wear would offer a generous boost in insulation, and she could already feel the effect. She continued the theme of warmth by grabbing up a white wool sweater and a similar pair of lengthy wool socks.

She sat down on the corner of the cot and began with the sweater. Getting it on over the long underwear top was tedious but once the sleeves were set straight the rest went on without issue. The socks went over the underwear leggings, and a pair of black skinny jeans were pulled on over everything else. She was conflicted about utilizing her snowpants since the addition of the thermal underlayer was already making her quite toasty, and eventually decided that she’d go without and just bring them along as a precautionary measure. Wasn’t there something else I was going to… oh yeah.

Another thing that had been on Ocellus’s mind for some time now was that while her parka and pants were generally up to the task of insulating against the cold, the color matched boots left much to be desired. While they were good enough for a few minutes outside, it was clear that most of the attention had gone into the former pieces, and those ill-fitting boots were only tacked on as a gimmicky afterthought. The lack of quality workmareship was something that the astute changeling couldn’t quite wrap her head around. Why make things in a subpar fashion when those same things could be engineered to last much longer. Of course, she knew that it was all about saving as many bits as possible and that there were those who’d take it a step further and intentionally sell underbuilt items to open their profit margins even further, but that mindset just didn’t feel right coming from the equines she loved.

What she had remembered, and what had been pulled out of the shoe compartment were the conceptual opposite of that. Holding one of them up and looking it over, the only adjective that could describe what she felt and saw was quality. They were a gift from Silverstream she’d received a few months earlier when it was just going into winter. The hippogriff was adamant that no friend of hers would go into the coming season unprepared, and proceeded to buy the changeling a pair of new boots from Carousel.

When she had gone in for an initial measurement, Ocellus had feared that what Silverstream and Rarity had in the works would be something gaudy and too embarrassing to wear. But what she had been gifted with in the end quashed any doubts she entertained about her hippogriff buddy. The mid-length, zip-up black boots with a short platform, grippy treaded sole, and slightly accentuated heel were a rather simplistic design which she would have been totally happy with if that was how they came. Three belts with polished brass buckles that looped around the ankles of each were something extra added that had grown on the recipient over several viewings. She felt that they added just enough pazazz to set them apart while retaining a well-built, rugged appearance.

For the first time since getting them, Ocellus slipped the boots on and felt as though they had literally clamped onto her hooves when they touched the bottom. Even without being fastened they refused to fall off when dangling in the air and resisted any forced wiggling. It was simply the tight tolerances of apparel tailor-fitted to her hooves and a combination of friction from the thick socks and the internal insulation that kept them on, her rational mind had decreed, but more whimsical theories had her wondering if Rarity hadn’t put a little magic in them.

Zipping them up and cinching the buckles, she got onto her hooves and ambled around to get a feel for them. Just like before, the extra angle on her hoof was a little off-putting at first, but she rapidly acclimated to that minor change. Beyond that, they were way more supportive than the degrading pair that were all but ready to be replaced. The uncomfortable spots she was accustomed to were completely nonexistent, replaced by a uniform snugness that could only be improved upon in one way.

A trot through Ponyville would be the true test, she concluded, then giggled softly. Silver will be over the moon when she notices that I’m finally wearing them.

Gallus hopped and hovered around his dorm, trying to find the right set of clothing for the day. But wants soon became needs as he picked up random articles from off the floor and gave them a good sniff. The ones that he wrinkled his beak at got tossed in an ever-growing pile in the corner, and the ones that weren’t rank and stale found themselves on the bed.

The selection wasn’t his first choice, but the black underwear; mismatched socks, stonewashed jeans, and gray sweatshirt were the only clean clothes he possessed at the moment so they would have to do. He hopped up and down on one leg as he pulled the underwear up the other side, and switched legs to get them on fully. Everything else went on smoothly, and he was set.

Smolder opened the wooden double doors of the stone framed monstrosity that was her wardrobe and thought about what would be suitable to wear that day. The outer frame may have been granite, but the shelves within were simple boards. There was also a large area for more important clothing to hang in, but she wasn’t interested in anything remotely formal.

The simple shelves below that were stocked with folded up shirts of varied types on the top two, and different kinds of skirts, pants, and other types of leggings on the bottom ones. She picked out a vibrant orange tee with a crystal dragon skull graphic on the front and tossed it onto the bed. Undecided on what lower garment she would combine with it, the doors were left open and the drawers that held the more intimate bits of clothing were pulled out.

Finding a comfortable sports bra was easy enough, and pulling it on was even easier. The tricky part was getting a clean set of underwear. She rifled through the mess of lacy thongs in the hunt for something more mundane, but a stray thought about skipping out on the school laundromat caused her to growl in disgust. Her last non-thong was in the hamper, which meant she was stuck with undesirable options. Thunking her head on one of the interior shelves as she stood up straight didn’t help matters much.

“Gah!” she gently rubbed her head, then threw her arms in the air. “Great. Just freaking great. The whole universe must have it out for me today.”

With a huff, she knelt back down and grabbed up a thong – lime green with pink stitching – and quickly slipped it on. After sliding the bottom drawer closed with a bit of force, she went back into the upper section and tried to decide what to grab next. A few seconds of rifling through the skirts and leggings netted a pair of purple sweatpants and matching socks, which were also donned.

Silverstream went over to her bed with a pile of clean clothes and set them down on the blanket. The first item on the stack was a frilly blue thong which was happily donned along with the next items; a pair of black rolled up fishnet stockings that she had to carefully slip her hooves into and unroll up her legs. The next thing to go on was a random bra she had pulled absentmindedly from her dresser, but as she brought it onto her chest and reached around her back to fasten it, she ran into a problem.

No matter how much she stretched and tugged on the straps, the hooks simply wouldn’t reach. That wasn’t the only place where the foundation was ill-fitting, as her breasts exceeded its capacity by several cup sizes. With a now knowing giggle, she cast the bra onto the bed and hopped back over to her dresser. “Silly Silverstream, that was one of your earlier ones.”

A quick search through the top drawer later, and the hippogriff found one that was quite a bit bigger, and with its tag still attached. She had taken her mother’s advice and had bought several larger bra sizes last time she visited Carousel Boutique to accommodate her growing figure. But even with that forward-thinking, it barely fit around her body.

“Huh?” she mused while giving the straps a little adjustment. “I could swear that this size was too big for me a week ago. Mom was right, I am a late bloomer just like her. But is it normal to grow this fast?”

Strange secrets of the universe were something that Silverstream liked to contemplate deeply sometimes – like how changelings transformed or why pizza was so danged good – but the reasons behind why her breasts were growing so quickly were only dwelled upon for a few seconds before she mindlessly shrugged. “Oh well, just means more shopping for me today. I wonder what kind of holiday specials there will be?”

The last few items to go on were a pair of striped purple forelimb warmers that were pulled up almost to the shoulder, and the pink short-sleeved shirt and blue track pants went over most everything else.

It only took one look in the mirror just above the dresser to reveal a small problem with the hippogriff’s choice of attire. She by no means dressed conservatively – always choosing to follow her heart and never be ashamed of showing off her body. But what she had seen was taking things a little bit out of her comfort zone. The way her shirt outlined and hung off her breasts that now almost rivaled Yona’s for size was rather unflattering, and she began to think of ways to mitigate any undesired attention.

The only thing that she had around to wear comfortably indoors that wouldn’t accentuate her expanded figure was a dark blue windbreaker that was a size too big – which was beneficial in this odd case. She found the unworn garment in the back of the top dresser drawer and slipped it on. She zipped it up past her bust and gave herself another examination. It was a little too warm for her liking, but it was a price she would just have to pay to hide the new growth.