Trixieverse 3/Dashie's Foaling

by Applejinx

First published 10th of September, 2012

Rainbow Dash is having Applejack's foal! But how, ask the CMCs, is this possible?

Rainbow Dash is pregnant! Lyra is out on the tiles! And Rarity's the new sub in the Twilight/Trixie BDSM relationship! The third book in the Trixie's Magic Bit / Rarity's Worst Day Ever / Dashie's Foaling trilogy.

Prelude To Fall

Two little ponies trotted down the path.

One little pony came running up to greet them.

“Y’all not gonna believe this! Oh my gosh!”

“What is it, Apple Bloom?” said Sweetie Belle.

“Yeah, what happened?” said Scootaloo.

“Ain’t what happened, it’s what’s gonna happen! So you didn’t hear about Rainbow Dash’s foal?”

Scootaloo blinked, and then she scoffed. “Don’t be stupid! Rainbow Dash hasn’t got a foal!”

“Not yet,” said Apple Bloom, “but she’s gonna have one!”

“Yeah, make up a better story next time, Apple Bloom,” said Scootaloo. “That one’s just stupid. You’re lying. How is that even possible? She hasn’t got a stallion friend!”

Apple Bloom blinked. “I ain’t rightly sure. I done figured out she’s kissin’ my big sister Applejack, which I din’t know that was allowed. They’re nice ponies so I guess even Granny don’t mind or nothin’. But you take that back, Scootaloo, it was Granny Smith who tole me! That means it’s gotta be true!”

“Well, I don’t know exactly how it works, but my Mom told me foals are made from a stallion and a mare, so you take it back, Apple Bloom, and stop telling lies…”

Scootaloo didn’t even get another word out—Apple Bloom was on her, pummeling her with little hooves as they tumbled in the dirt.

“Granny Smith don’t never lie! Ah will beat some sense into you, Scootaloo!”

Sweetie Belle squealed in alarm and tried to break the fight up, but by the time she moved forward to do it her friends had already separated and were glaring at each other. Scootaloo sported a black eye, but it didn’t lessen her glare one bit.

“I don’t care about your punches, you still didn’t explain anything. It’s impossible!”

Apple Bloom glared right back. “Happens I don’t know how it’s possible, but you listen here, Scootaloo…”

Sweetie gulped. “Um… Cutie Mark Truth Finders?”

She squeaked, for Apple Bloom rounded on her. “Granny don’t lie! That there’s the simple truth! Rainbow Dash is with foal!”

At that, both Sweetie and Scootaloo rocked her back on her haunches with a simple chorus.

“HOW?”

Apple Bloom’s ear flicked. She blinked. “Wal, we don’t know. Do we?”

Sweetie Belle suggested, “Cutie Mark Mystery Solvers?”

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo stared at each other.

“Yeah, I reckon that’ll do…”

“Mystery Busters, more like,” griped Scootaloo, unaccountably angry as the three trotted off.

Applejack cantered toward home, limping slightly. It was nothing serious, just overstrain. Harvest time was demanding—between the apple harvest, other crops, laying in firewood for the winter—some seasons just asked a lot of you.

She let her gaze wander to the pretty red and orange maple trees. Yeah, that at least was work for the spring—sugaring season was months away. Dashie would be getting pretty big by then. It was a mercy that she wasn’t giving birth around harvest time. For that matter, thought Applejack, it was a mercy she’d be getting big over the winter, because they both had so much to do around harvest season there wasn’t time to think. She’d prob’ly be home late again, tired from cloud-herding…

Not true. There was a little blue dot waiting in front of Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack cantered harder, smiling to see her love in the distance welcome her home.

The dot was shifting around, restless. Applejack began to break into a gallop, sensing impatience, and drew nearer.

No, not impatience. Dashie looked awful, like she’d been crying.

No, not just crying. Somepony had socked her in the eye, she’d been fighting. Applejack forgot her aches and pains and ran full tilt right up to her distressed mate, pulling up only just enough to embrace her gently rather than bowling her over.

“Darlin’! What’s the matter? What happened, Dashie?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s gonna be okay… but thanks… I needed that…”

“But what happened?” Applejack drew back to look Rainbow Dash over. She’d been socked in the eye, her mane was torn, there were bruises on her forelegs and it looked like she’d been kicked in the…

Applejack went white. “I’ll kill ‘em. I’ll fucking kill ‘em. You tell me right now who done this, Rainbow Dash.”

“Whoa, take it easy, Boss, hear me out!”

“Tell me!” demanded Applejack.

“Would you believe it was kinda me that did it?”

That stopped Applejack. “Mind runnin’ that by me again?”

Dash’s ears were back in shame. “I’m gonna have to. I think it’s a talk we should’ve had before. I didn’t think it was gonna matter as much as it did. If it can get me starting fights…”

“Oh, you started it? What’s the other fella look like?”

Rainbow Dash looked away. “I kinda beat the shit out of her. I’d better explain.”

“C’mon inside, sugar—and yeah, I think you better!”

They walked into the farmhouse, Applejack nuzzling her contentious beloved, and Dash curled up on a couch while Applejack made cups of tea.

“Somethin’ go on at work, then? Can’t help but notice you come home early.”

“Yeah. Oh yeah. We both got sent home—not only that, we’re both suspended.”

Applejack gasped. “You what?”

“For a day! Just for a day! I totally understand, too. It’s fair…”

Apple Bloom trotted in the door. “What’s fair, Rainbow Dash?”

It looked for a moment like Dash was going to answer, but Applejack had other ideas. “Uh, you run along, now, Apple Bloom! Grown-ups talkin’ here.”

“But Rainbow Dash got in a fight or something, and she says it’s fair, and how can it be fair if…”

“We’ll tell ya later!” insisted Applejack. “Once we’ve sorted out the lil’ filly version, all right? Look at you, you been fightin’ too, I reckon! Now then, she says it’s fair so don’t you fret none, you just run along, okay?”

In Apple Bloom’s gaze, rebelliousness warred with helpfulness. Helpfulness won—seemingly.

“All righty! I’m a-runnin’!”

Applejack’s voice pursued her. “AN’ don’t jes’ run, sugar, that includes not pryin’ and not listenin’ in. Okay?”

The little filly froze, mid-run, staring straight ahead. When she turned to look back at Applejack, the bright helpfulness was gone leaving only sulkiness and rueful respect.

“Ya mean it?”

“I surely do, Apple Bloom. Please let us talk in private. I’ll make ya extra oat-cakes for breakfast?”

“…with chocolate chips?”

Applejack winced. “Yeah. But only if ya beat your lil’ tail outta here and give us space. This ain’t necessarily important to you, but me ‘n Rainbow Dash got some talkin’ to do.”

Apple Bloom looked at her sister appraisingly. “You got a deal. Have a nice talk!”

“Lord, I hope so,” said Applejack, as the filly scampered off out of earshot. “Now then, Rainbow Dash, what’s so dang fair about you gettin’ kicked off the job? I ain’t happy about some of them bruises.” She shuddered, her eyes dismayed. “You started th’ fight?”

“It’s freaking me out, babe. I didn’t used to be so aggressive…”

Applejack snorted, fondly.

“Alright, let me put it like this,” said Dash. “I didn’t used to be THIS aggressive. I pretty much tried to kill her, practically. Not cool. I mean, yeah, who could blame me, but still…”

“Start from th’ beginning,” said Applejack. “Who’d ya get so mad at, and why?”

“Fucking Flight Lightning, of course. Who else? But I would never have believed she would say such a thing…”

“Who’s that? And what thing?”

“This is going to take a little explaining,” said Dash unhappily, and Applejack fell silent.

“It might not even have happened if I hadn’t been always bragging about you…”

Rainbow Dash had come in to work at Weather Patrol, handling the usual ribbing about how she was late. Cloud Chaser’d ridden her hard about it, but that was never bad—not from her. It was Flight Lightning who seemed to put a little too much edge into the teasing, Flight Lightning who shot her resentful looks, Flight Lightning who perhaps was jealous of her flying skills (for Flight also had great talent as a weather flyer).

But Flight Lightning wasn’t even teasing—she had been brooding and morose, sitting alone on a tuft of cloud.

Dash had announced that she would have to give up shifts starting in the Spring, possibly earlier, because she was pregnant and would be having her beloved’s foal. All heads turned.

“So we have to take over your workload? Dammit, that’ll be another two minutes out of my day!” teased Cloud Chaser.

“Really?” blinked Flitter. “You got pregnant? From your Applejack?”

Dash had nodded smugly—and spotted Flight Lightning, whose eyes were wide and startled. And Flight had flown over, deliberately, and she’d looked… outraged.

“You did what, Dash?” she’d said.

“You heard me.”

“You gave your… your wings… to…”

Dash had started to glare. Flight Lightning’s opinion of earth ponies wasn’t usually a problem, but it still peeked out from time to time…

Or jumped out. “Way to further the pegasus spirit, Dash,” Flight said bitterly.

Rainbow Dash bristled. “Yeah, well, not your problem, okay?”

This didn’t seem to help. In fact, it had made matters worse for some reason. Flight Lightning looked even angrier, and she was in Dash’s face now. “I hope for the foal’s sake you found a pegasus to finish the job!”

Rainbow Dash had bared her teeth. “How is that your business, Lightning?”

And Flight Lightning had curled her lip, and said…

“It’s all very well getting a good ground-pounding, but take it from me, it should be a crime to deprive a pegasus foal of their wings.”

A scream rang out, a doubled scream of rage and alarm. Eight pegasi’s wings flapped frantically to intercede. Dash had gone for Flight Lightning’s throat, biting and kicking and punching with forehooves.

Two weather flyers dragged Flight one direction, and two dragged Dash the other, Cloud Chaser among them. Dash’s eye was already blacked, but she had Flight Lightning by the tail, and thrashed vicious hoof-blows at her enemy while Chaser tried to restrain her—until Flight’s hindleg kicked out, and four observing pegasi gasped in horror.

“Stop it!” shrieked Flitter, interposing her body between the two combatants. “Stop it right now!”

Flight panted. Dash gasped for breath, doubling over. She had been kicked hard in the belly, and the mares observing wore appalled expressions.

“She was… tryin’ to… kill me…” panted Flight Lightning.

“Enough!” commanded Cloud Chaser. “You’re both suspended for a day. Flitter, take Flight home. You didn’t need to say that, Lightning, that was fucking cold. I’m getting Rainbow to the pegasus hospital right now. Don’t freak out! It might still be okay, we’ll all hope so…”

Cloud Chaser had flown with Dash to the hospital. They’d listened at her belly, they’d examined her, they’d concluded that she was probably okay but cautioned her against getting in fights in her condition…

Applejack stared at Dash as she finished up the story.

“They shoulda fired her. She kicked you. Holy buck, Dashie, it’s horrible!”

“Yeah, well, she’s a great flyer and she needs the job and usually her attitude isn’t a problem. I shouldn’ta hit her in the first place. Cloud Chaser made that really clear. Heck, Applejack, she probably wouldn’ta kicked me if I let her go. I had her tail in my teeth, and I swear I was gonna take her apart. I was trying to wail on her back with my forehooves. Chaser wasn’t able to stop all of it.”

Applejack shook her head, sadly. “You an’ your temper. But… I still don’t understand everythin’. You flipped out ‘cos she say you’re deprivin’ a pegasus foal of its wings. Why’d she even say that? You ain’t deprivin’ nothin’.”

Rainbow Dash winced. “This is the part I didn’t want to have to explain…”

Applejack hugged her love, worry in her eyes. “That tore it. Out with it, sugarcube.”

“The thing is, she’s right, kinda, that’s why I hit her…”

Applejack fell silent again. Dash continued, in simple but heartbreaking words.

“Wings are recessive. We all know that. With earth pony for both spirit and body parts—zero chance of a true pegasus.”

There was a terrible pause. Then, Applejack said, “Are you sure?” She was tearing up.

“Yeah. Totally. I’ve known since… since that time in that dragon’s cave. She told me I was pregnant, and all I could do was stand there, figuring it out. She had to poke me to get me to move, Applejack, I was just… standing there, realizing what happened. What it meant.” Dash gulped. “If you hadn’t taken me back… I don’t know what I would have done.”

“An’… an’ that Flight Lightning, she taunted you about it?”

“They say she has a kid she doesn’t talk about. Maybe it’s personal for her… but she’s right. I’m a pegasus, but my foal will not have wings, Applejack—and that doesn’t sit so good with my people. Didn’t you ever wonder why we make such a deal of the pegasus pride and everything?”

Applejack’s lip was quivering, her look tragic. “Oh my darling… I am so, so sorry… I don’t know what I kin possibly do ta make up for it…”

Rainbow Dash had looked haunted as she revealed her secrets, but dry-eyed and brave. Looking at Applejack’s distress, the bravado eroded like a sandcastle hit by a wave. She seized Applejack in a frantic hug. “No, stop that, stop it!”

“But… Oh, Dashie!”

“Stop! Do not cry, you stop crying right now! Don’t you understand I never wanted to fucking breed true pegasuses? Since when did I ever go pick up pegasus dudes, Applejack? You know better than that! I didn’t want to find some true pegasus and go have pegasus foals just to make more true pegasuses!”

“But…” gulped Applejack, but Rainbow Dash wouldn’t let her finish.

“No. It’s personal. I wanted YOUR foal.”

Applejack gulped again, blinking back tears.

“I’m having YOUR foal,” said Rainbow Dash. “I don’t want anything else.”

And then they were embracing tightly, and Dash cuddled Applejack’s shaking body, feeling incredibly drained and weak.

“It’s just… hard, sometimes,” she breathed, as if to herself.

Flight Lightning swooped around a cloud, wincing at the soreness in her body. Stupid Dash and her hard little hooves. Ow.

Probably could have glided in on a straight line, and it would hurt less. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Flight was used to a more… deceptive approach.

The home awaited—a little bit run down. The two of them, they went through phases, and she was okay with that. It was only fair, the filly shouldn’t have to clean if she wasn’t going to be cleaning herself. They let things slide and then went on binges of housecleaning. Sometimes they were even kind of fun.

Flight Lightning glided down and alighted on her doorstep—on Ponyville ground.

She winced, and glowered again. Ow twice. Fuckin’ Dash, anyway. She had no idea what she was in for. Probably that was why she went so psycho—she knew, some part of her knew. The shame…

“I made my dinner so I’m out of the way,” called a little voice from inside.

Flight Lightning’s frown gentled a bit. There were compensations.

The filly at least did her own dishes. ‘the filly’ was a hard-won thought—it beat ‘the deformity’. Flight was wearily proud of herself for getting that far. Kid tried hard to not make it too difficult, most days.

She walked inside the house, folding her wings. Hello, once again, to—‘Dun Flyin’.

She was careful not to say it out loud.

The filly blinked. Looked like she’d been in some scuffles again. Flight was more worried for the other kid, whoever it was—the filly was a holy terror, it really made Flight proud at times, though she had to make sure it didn’t get out of hand.

“What happened to your neck?” said the filly. “And your face! And…”

“I could say the same thing to you, kiddo,” said Flight Lightning, wryly.

The filly did a doubletake. Hard as nails—she apparently didn’t notice her own beat-up state. “Uh… yeah, right. So do you want help with that?”

“I’m good,” said Flight Lightning. “So what happened to you?”

“Oh, that’s fair—I can’t ask who hit you, but you can turn around and start asking me…”

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I can. That’s the rule and you know it. So what did happen to you? Some kid beat you up? Remember, long as it’s just you kids, you can handle it. Any grownup touches you, I have to get involved, and they won’t like that very much.”

The filly sulked. “It was my friend.”

“So all right. You hit her back?”

“Duh. Who do you think I am?”

“You got over it? You’re cool now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re cool,” said the filly.

“Well all right then,” said Flight Lightning. She turned and went into the kitchen, where she started making her own dinner. The kid had cleaned up real good after herself. Flight thought, wryly, that they might be heading into another homes-and-gardens kick. That never lasted, but it made for a nice change, and it’d get things a little less dreary by wintertime. Winter was always a bitch, the two of them cooped up together on the cold miserable ground. You just couldn’t burn enough firewood to properly warm those light, hollow pegasus bones…

The kid was underfoot. That wasn’t good, she usually knew better.

“Mom,” she said, “can a pegasus have foals from another mare?”

“Don’t call me that, I’m Flight. That’s my name, humor me alright?. Be that good kid I know you can be, okay?”

“Fine,” snapped the filly, unsurprised and undaunted. “Flight, can a pegasus have…”

“No, of course not. Don’t let anypony fill your head with stupid ideas. A pegasus mare mates with a pegasus stallion. I’m not going to tell you any more.”

“But I gotta know more!” protested the filly. Not in a whine, thankfully—never a whiny weak little cripple—it was a little squawk of outrage, and Flight approved of that even as she smacked down the inquiry in no uncertain terms.

“No! There’s nothing more you need to know at your age.”

“But…”

There it was. Flight Lightning tensed. That tone—the self-pity, the whine, she couldn’t stand to hear even a second of it. If it got into her, it would never get out, and nothing could be more horrible. She felt her temper flaring…

“Fine. Want to know the big secret to life? Don’t cheat on your pegasus stallion with a little ground-pounding before sneaking home,” snapped Flight. She hesitated, and then could not stop herself from going on, bitterly. “Especially if your pegasus stallion thinks he’s gonna get you pregnant and it’ll be all his. Or you’ll be very, very sorry.”

The filly stared up at her in shock. Probably understood about one word in three… but she could hear the tone just fine. It didn’t matter that Flight had kept it vague, that she had been essentially cursing herself out loud with the words that had been running through her head all day since her fight with Rainbow Dash. The filly didn’t have to understand every detail to know what was up.

She whirled and galloped to her room, slamming the door.

Flight Lightning sagged, staring at her half-prepared dinner. She’d fucked up again. She was gonna have to make dinner anyway, if she expected to keep up with the merry carousel of new hell that was life, and there was only so much she could do to make things right: she was not about to start loading up the filly with inappropriate ideas for her development.

Flight winced again. Development. That was a laugh. Kid couldn’t get off the ground, even now.

So… that was a tough enough burden for anypony, right?

Flight Lightning lifted her head. She left her dinner lying there, and walked steadily to the kid’s bedroom door.

“Honey?” she said in her harsh, wry voice.

“What.”

“I’m sorry I yelled,” said Flight. She hadn’t—not technically—but she knew she’d been emotionally loud, and she’d worked on that tendency before. The kid came by it fair and square. “That was wrong of me and I’ll try harder not to dump my problems on you.”

There was a little pause. Flight counted in her head. Two, three…

“So are you gonna tell me…”

“No, honey, I didn’t say that,” said Flight. She tried to stay serious-voiced and disciplinary, but fought back a smile. That kid! She never gave up. You had to be so tough, or the little tyke just steamrollered you every time. “There’s very little you need to know about that stuff at your age. Kiddo, when the time comes, I’ll smell it on you before you even know what’s happening, and that’s when I’ll tell you everything. That’s a promise. But for now? No dice. Drop it.”

She paused for a moment, thinking, and then she added, “Thanks for doing your dishes right away like I asked, honey. I was happy to see that.”

She walked off, reasonably satisfied that she’d turned the situation around—or at least tried to—and she returned to preparing her dinner, because even if all hell broke loose, she knew from bitter experience that she couldn’t let it throw off her routines and the basic things. There’d been some really horrifying nights, and they’d both tried to grow past that stuff.

Inside the bedroom, the filly stared sullenly at the wall, determined to not make any more demands. It wouldn’t even work, she could tell—but it wasn’t only that. Her mother was horribly strict and had a nasty temper and didn’t really like her—but at the same time, kinda loved her—and she loved her mother back, also kinda. It was good to hang onto the love kinda part or there wouldn’t be anything but hate—and the times where it felt like that, were so bad, that anything was better. You couldn’t talk about it or she got all weird. You had to just be good and never give up, and sometimes it meant not being able to get answers.

Even ones about Rainbow Dash having a foal with another mare.

“Thanks for the help, Mom,” muttered Scootaloo.

What's In A Name?

“Aw, sugar, you don’t gotta settle on it right this instant…”

Rainbow Dash’s mane was frazzled, as she leafed through the pages of the book. “Stupid thing! Why can’t it have just a simple list?”

“Ya mean, like a book o’ foal names?”

“Yeah!”

Applejack smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling in amusement. “Maybe ‘cos it ain’t any such thing? That there’s a book of apple cultivars, sugar.”

“And whose fault is that?” demanded Dash.

“Got me there. Totally my fault. I reckon Granny Smith would back me up, though. We got you fair and square, Rainbow. You’re an Apple, and the name’s gotta be apples.”

“Yeah, but… Oh, come on! ‘Gravenstein’. What kind of monster would name a foal that?”

“An appley one?” chuckled Applejack.

Dash snorted, and kept looking.

“Ya know, I did suggest that if it’s a filly we ain’t had an Aurora in the family for a while…”

“Too girly,” objected Rainbow Dash.

“Fillies get to be girly! Honey, all my life I weren’t allowed to be girly and you know how that messed with me!” protested Applejack. “Just think about it, okay? ‘Aurora’. Real pretty, huh?”

“No. Not awesome enough.”

Applejack shook her head. “Pinkie an’ Fluttershy are comin’ over soon, you should put th’ book down so we can say hello when they get here. How about Cortland for a colt? Ain’t that a lil’ awesome?”

“It sounds… namey.”

“We’re PICKIN’ a name!”

“I would never go on a date with a colt named Cortland,” said Rainbow Dash. “Not happening!”

“Dammit, Dashie, you ain’t goin’ on a date with him. The most intimate he’s gonna git with your marehood is… well, yeah, that’s pretty up close and personal. But I jes’ think you don’t quite get the point here!”

“We have to agree. You told me, if we don’t agree, we don’t use it,” said Dash.

“Criterion?”

Rainbow Dash’s jaw dropped as she stared at her marefriend. “You’re joking.”

“Ain’t jokin’. Doesn’t that sound like a fine important fellow? If it’s a colt, that is.”

“Cry-BABY-on. Bzzt! No way.”

Applejack sighed. “Aw, sugar. I guess I see your point. Maybe the poor lil’ scaper is lucky you’re testin’ out names for tease-ability! Slow up, there, you’re skimmin’. Hey, how about Katy for a filly? That’s nice, ain’t it?”

“Boring,” said Rainbow Dash. “Oh for pete’s sake! ‘Knobbed Russet’?”

“I guess we can agree on some things,” said Applejack. “No way! Uh… Laxton? That’d be a colt, I reckon.”

Dash looked thoughtful. “I like the X. Sounds like a lawyer, though. Not too bad, but there’s gotta be something better. There better be something better! It’s not fair, all these apples have stupid names!”

“Well, find a good one!” snapped Applejack. “We ain’t even halfway yet! Uh, Malinda? Margil?”

Rainbow Dash just shuddered, and didn’t even dignify the suggestions with a response. Applejack sighed and watched her flip pages.

“Mother,” said Dash. “What kind of joke is that? Hi, Mom, you’re an apple. Oh for… ‘Muscadet de Dieppe’. Who comes up with this stuff?”

“My Jewel,” read Applejack. “Jewel for short?”

Rainbow Dash cringed. “I’m not sure you’re quite getting the idea of the awesomeness here…”

“Well, give me a dang example, sugarcube!” demanded Applejack. “You hate everything! Newtown Pippin… we could use Pippin… Nickajack…”

Rainbow Dash flipped angrily through the pages, flip, flip, and her wings flared out slightly, covering the book from Applejack’s sight.

“Aw, now, sugar, you won’t even let me see them names? It’s supposed to be both of us lookin’ for…”

Dash froze. Her wings arched up to either side of her.

“Oh boy. What you got, Dashie? Out with it.”

“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh oh my gosh…”

“What is it?” said Applejack, trying to stick her head in and see, but Dash covered the pages with her trembling hooves.

“It’s the name, Applejack. It’s the name of our new foal. Oh my gosh!”

“What? Dammit, Rainbow Dash…”

“You gotta promise you’ll let me have this! You gotta!”

“That ain’t fair when you ain’t tole me what it even is, Dashie!”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes were wide, crazed. She gulped. “Okay… but it’s gotta be this. I’m begging you, Applejack. For me. This is our foal’s name. Please?”

“Consarn it… All right. Maybe. Now tell me.”

Rainbow’s hooves were trembling as she revealed the page.

“Northern SPY,” she said, with awe.

Applejack just looked at her for a minute, and Dash’s gaze grew more and more frantic. As she was about to launch into a torrent of pleading, Applejack cut her off.

“This for a colt, honey, or a filly?”

“Both! Either! Applejack!” protested Dash.

“Well now… skin color a green ground, flushed with red stripes… you got red stripes in your mane and tail…”

“Oh my gosh Applejack, please!”

“Says here it matures late…”

“So did I!” begged Rainbow Dash.

“Whaddya mean ‘did’, sugarcube? You sure are soundin’ like a big pony around about now…”

“Northern Spy. Northern Spy,” said Rainbow Dash. “Come on, just listen to it, how good it sounds, how much more awesome can you fit in a damn name? Applejack!”

“Says it’s tart…”

“SO AM I!” yelled Rainbow Dash.

“No kiddin’?” smirked Applejack. “Look, it says, dull and irregular shape…”

Rainbow was getting adorably flustered. “Listen…”

“Lack of disease resistance…”

Tears came to Dash’s eyes. “Look. Just give this to me, okay? Pleeeeease! Please, please… What do I have to do, I don’t care what it is, I’ll…”

“Kiss me, ya silly girl,” said Applejack.

Rainbow Dash gulped, leaned over, and pressed lips to her country pony beloved’s. Her eyes begged desperately. Applejack’s twinkled with amusement, the edges crinkled.

“Northern Spy it is!”

Rainbow Dash squealed and bowled Applejack over, kissing her madly as she laughed and fended off wing-snuggles. They cuddled in a giddy pony pile while Rainbow Dash collected herself, Applejack hugging her close while she gradually stopped hyperventilating.

“Dang, honey,” she said.

“Oh, Applejack!”

“You sure are a silly pony,” said Applejack indulgently.

“Oh, please, tell me you like it? I want you to love it too. Northern Spy. It’s so perfect, I want you to be happy with it and not just let me have it…”

Applejack silenced her with a gentle hoof to the lips. “Hush. I love it. I’mma call that name and you can hear it across town. With a foal from you, sugar, they’ll have to, he or she’ll be everywhere. Northern Spyyyy! That foal will hear me callin’, bet your life.”

“Oh thank goodness,” said Rainbow Dash. “Yeah, you’re right, that works! I didn’t think of that. I saw the name and I just freaked out and it had to be that…”

“Yeah,” said Applejack. “I saw you fall in love with that there name. One look and you knew.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “I didn’t even read that other stuff. You know, about how it’s tart and has red stripes and matures late. Which one convinced you?”

“Beg your pardon?” blinked Applejack.

“The things about the apple. You were reading them, and you ended up letting me have it. Was it when you realized you could yell the name real good? I could see that.”

“You mean… when did I decide on the name? That what you mean, Dashie?”

“Yeah! It seemed like you didn’t buy it at first,” said Dash. “Then something won you over. This is the name of our foal, Applejack! It’s right here under your hoof where you’re cuddling me. I feel like… if I had to talk you into it, I want to know what convinced you. ‘Cos you let me have this. I’ll owe you forever for that, I love you so fucking much…”

“Weren’t hard. And yeah—there was a moment when I knew,” said Applejack, reflectively.

“Well, tell me! Whatever that thing was, I’ll remember it and I’ll remind you so you end up being just as fond of the name.”

“Name’s fine!” said Applejack, hastily. “Honey, I got a distant cousin named Tydeman’s Early Worcester. Ain’t none of these names woulda been a problem to us.”

Dash’s ears quirked. She’d been expecting a more specific reason. “But… you said there was a moment when you knew. Like, that it was a special name. The right name. Right?”

“Uh-huh,” said Applejack solemnly.

“So what was the moment?”

Applejack smiled.

“It was when I watched you fall in love with a name I din’t even see, and you turned to me with your eyes all lit up. And I saw the look on your face… an’ I knew.”

Dash’s lip quivered—and then she was clinging to Applejack again, and Applejack wrapped her pegasus mare in a fierce and loving embrace, a tear coming to her eye.

“I knew,” she breathed, into Rainbow’s ear.

Then, her ear quirked, for there was a sound at the door. Their guests had arrived.

“Hi!” squeaked Pinkie Pie.

Fluttershy walked in, as Pinkie held the door. The demure pegasus didn’t look any more pregnant than Rainbow Dash did—perhaps a little heavier, nothing major—but she moved with a solemn deliberateness, as if every step was some litany celebrating pony motherhood, and at every moment she looked as if she was about to give in to a huge, smug smile.

Pinkie bounced along behind her, doting, dizzy with adoration.

“I see you’re getting cuddle practice!” began Pinkie—and then gasped, as did Fluttershy, for they saw Dash’s black eye and bruises. “Oh my gosh! Dashie!”

“It’s okay!” protested Rainbow. “It’s gonna be fine! Just a little scuffle, it was really my fault…”

“How can it be your fault, Dashie?” protested Pinkie Pie, her ears back.

“You didn’t!” gasped Fluttershy.

Dash looked at Fluttershy with chagrin. “Yeah—I kind of totally did. And I think you can guess why, too. Can’t you?”

Pinkie looked back and forth between them, dismayed. “Fluttywuttyprettybitty, what is she talking about?”

Fluttershy wasn’t listening. She stared hard at Rainbow Dash, who looked cornered. Then, Dash blinked, and grinned.

“Shouldn’t that be fluttywuttyprettyBUTTy, Pinkie?”

Fluttershy winced. “I told you not to say it, Pinkie. I told you, she’d say that. Didn’t I?”

Pinkie’s ears drooped. “Sorry, rubbylubbynubbykins.”

Fluttershy glanced back at her mate, eyes narrowed, and then returned her glare to Rainbow Dash. Dash pouted, thought for a moment, and then smirked even worse. Fluttershy winced.

“Sorry…” said Pinkie.

“Never mind that,” said Fluttershy. “Rainbow Dash, am I reading too much into this? Did you start a fight? I suppose you did. You just had to, didn’t you? It’s not like there is another pony who would understand your situation perfectly and be willing to listen to you express your feelings safely, no matter what they are. Oh, wait, she’s talking to you right now. Isn’t she?”

Rainbow’s look of sullenness was giving way to simple regret. “I’m sorry, Fluttershy. You’re right. I just lost my temper…”

“Your baby will play with our baby! You can count on that, Rainbow Dash!” insisted Fluttershy. She was fierce as they’d rarely seen her, outraged, her wings arching up aggressively. “We are embarking on this journey together, Rainbow Dash, you will not endanger your precious foal with roughhousing and fighting!”

“All right, all right! Sheesh! Do I have to get lectured by every pony in Equestria here? I’m sorry! And you can’t blame me, even though you’re totally blaming me and that’s okay, I get it…”

“I don’t care,” said Fluttershy. “You can remember your mate. You can remember your foal, that you will love more than anything. You can remember me. Never again, Rainbow Dash!”

Rainbow cowered a little. “Okay! I promise, never! You’re right, you’re totally right…”

Fluttershy held her eye for a moment, and nodded, and her wings lowered and folded. “Good. I would say I am sorry, Rainbow, if it weren’t so important…”

“Tell me about it,” sighed Dash. She perked up. “Oh, hey, that reminds me, we have something to tell you!” She scrambled to close the book that still lay on the floor, before either visitor could read the open pages.

Pinkie brightened, seeing that the conflict was over. “Whatcha telling us, Dashie?”

“Only that we have the name for our foal…”

Pinkie blinked, as did Fluttershy. “Golly! For a colt or a filly?”

“Both!” said Dash proudly, Applejack smiling behind her.

Pinkie glanced at Fluttershy. “Wow. It must be a heck of a name! We’re having some problems deciding, maybe you can help?”

Fluttershy winced at this suggestion, but it didn’t faze Rainbow Dash, who leaned forward, grinning ear to ear.

“Northern SPY,” she said.

Pinkie’s eyes widened, and her grin promptly matched Rainbow’s. “Oooh! Dashie! And look at how happy both of you are with it! That is completely awesome!”

Fluttershy looked more startled. “Gee… um…”

“What?” said Dash, challengingly.

“Well, what if it’s a filly you’re having… and what if she is shy and nice, and maybe doesn’t want to be called a spy?”

The other three ponies looked at her for a moment, and then Applejack spoke up, kindly. “Uh, that’s real nice of you, Fluttershy. I understand your feelin’s. But you do realize you’re talkin’ about a little pony filly… that’s the child of Rainbow Dash, and myself? With an assist from a certain over-helpful numbskull…”

“Aw, c’mon,” said Dash, “we’ve been over that.”

“Guess it all worked out in th’ end,” admitted Applejack.

Fluttershy looked chastened. “You have a point, Applejack. Though you never can tell, maybe it’s possible that Rainbow Dash’s foal would be gentle? And please be kind to Big Macintosh. He helped us conceive too!”

Applejack smirked wryly. “That boy’s on a mission. I’mma have to tell Twilight to sleep with a cork in her.”

Rainbow Dash snickered, remembering their colorful history when they’d first discovered Trixie’s magic bit. “Runs in the family. And just who’s bagged ALL the elements of harmony, hmm?”

Applejack gulped. “No fair! That don’t count, Pinkie here bagged ME not th’ other way around! An’ Fluttershy was in terrible shape that one day an’ din’t take no for an answer, and… um… well… uhh… I reckon maybe you’re right?”

The friends—at times very close friends indeed—laughed, and they relaxed, comfortable how they’d ended up. Love conquered all, and sometimes it rampaged straight through lots of countries getting there. Not a pony present really regretted any of it, in the long run.

Pinkie still looked concerned, though. “If you got in a fight, Dashie, is the other pony gonna try and hurt you more?”

“Nah, I doubt it,” said Dash, with satisfaction. “I hit her first, and she wouldn’t have kicked me there if I wasn’t trying to rip her tail off with my teeth. I swear, I’ll be good—no more fighting.”

“But why would you even do that?” protested Pinkie.

Dash frowned. “Fluttershy can tell you later. Let’s not get into it now, okay? Tell me about the trouble you’ve been having with names. Maybe we can help!”

Pinkie regarded her skeptically, and then shrugged. “All righty! We have two main kinds of names. Pegasus names, and sweet names.”

Applejack blinked. “Don’t tell me. Fluttershy’s lookin’ to have pegasus names, and you’d like a sweet name?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” cried Pinkie. “Nope! It’s the other way around! I want to support Fluttershy’s heritage and there are lots of cool names we could use, and she keeps telling me it’s okay if we use a name from a candy or a cake, and I don’t want to choose a candy name, I want to support Fluttershy! But she’s really stubborn!”

Fluttershy gave an apologetic little smile, batting her eyelashes, tilting her head coyly.

Applejack snickered. “You ain’t foolin’. Pinkie Pie, you may have to give in on this one…”

“Well, you didn’t give in, Applejack! Northern Spy is an apple name, I can see that’s a book of apples there on the floor! Maybe you can help us by telling us how you guys decided between pegasus names and apple names? Why did you not look at pegasus names, to support Rainbow Dash?”

Applejack blinked. “Uh. To be honest with you, darlin’… it never occurred to me. She’s an Apple now, one of the family, and I reckon I jes’ went from there. Rainbow honey, was I wrong to do that?”

Dash grumbled. “Oh, let’s get back into the other conversation again! We weren’t uncomfortable enough in our little get-together that’s supposed to be happy and fun!”

“What’s wrong, Dashie?” asked Pinkie Pie.

“I’m sorry, should I stop?” said Applejack.

Fluttershy fell silent, her lips sealed.

“No, it’s okay, I guess,” said Rainbow Dash. She sighed. “It’ll probably help to get it out, I just didn’t want to dump this on you guys. That fight I got into… it was about our foal.”

“What’s wrong with your foal?” gasped Pinkie.

At that, Dash glared at her. “There is absolutely nothing wrong with our foal! She—or he—is gonna be an awesome little pony! And there is nothing wrong with me giving birth to a pony like you, or like Applejack, or like tons of other ponies I know and love. End of story!”

Pinkie looked confused. “Bouncy? Athletic? Strangely obsessed with vats of pudding?”

Applejack cleared her throat. “Earth pony, Pinkie. No wings. So I hear.”

Pinkie blinked, twice. She glanced at Fluttershy, who returned her gaze levelly, with a tiny little nod. She stared at Applejack, she blinked at Rainbow Dash. “How can you be sure? What if it’s a pegasus, Dashie?”

“Nope,” said Rainbow Dash. “I told Applejack the same thing. If both the spirit and body sides are from an earth pony, there is zero chance of a pegasus. Wings are recessive, Pinkie.”

Pinkie’s eyes were wide, shocked. Dash went on.

“That’s why I got in the fight—and that’s why Fluttershy is mad at me for not turning to her instead. Our culture kinda has some opinions about that.”

“What do you mean, opinions?” squeaked Pinkie. “I don’t know about these opinions!”

Applejack broke in. “Dashie says it ain’t all of ‘em. It’s just that they don’t get more pegasuses without kinda stickin’ together. That’s why their names are the way they are. That’s why they’re all up in Cloudsdale and their cities are in th’ sky, that’s why they hang around with each other so much, why they’re so proud…”

“It does make sense,” said Rainbow Dash, sadly. “Honestly, I respect that. I’m glad there have been pegasuses all this time, that’s how me and Fluttershy can even exist in your lives in the first place. I’m grateful for my wings. I’m even sad I can’t pass them on—but there’s other pegasuses that can do that. It shouldn’t have to be my job. Even if wings are something precious…”

Pinkie was staring into space. “But… but I’m an earth pony, Dashie, and Big Macintosh who helped us, he’s an earth pony. So, if what you are saying is true, then Fluttershy…”

She turned slowly to look at her mate. Fluttershy looked back, her little jaw set, pouting in a look of adorable weapons-grade stubbornness.

Pinkie looked back at Rainbow Dash and Applejack. “We can’t have a pegasus? No matter what? I thought maybe it would be an earth pony, and maybe it would be a pegasus, and we’d better be ready to give it a pegasus name so it would also be comfortable playing with its pegasus friends…”

Rainbow Dash’s mouth was a hard line, and she wouldn’t meet Pinkie’s eyes.

Applejack gulped. “It’s possible that ain’t exactly how it’s gonna be, Pinkie.”

“It’s… not gonna have pegasus friends?” said Pinkie, in a small voice.

Rainbow Dash snarled. “Don’t say that! Don’t even start with that! I mean, yeah, with some of them, it wouldn’t even help if you gave the kid a pegasus name, but I’m telling you they don’t speak for everypony! Like, my boss at Weather Patrol, Cloud Chaser, I guar-an-fucking-tee you she’s solid. She’s gonna love our foals! You can’t judge all pegasuses by a few of them who are just too hung up on keeping pegasuses the greatest thing ever…”

“Calm down, Dashie,” said Pinkie Pie. “Don’t be upset?”

“I’m not!” yelled Dash. “I know I can count on my real pegasus friends! And I’m not the tiniest bit sorry, whatever they… might…”

She’d caught Applejack’s eye—and Applejack looked stricken. Rainbow Dash had always gotten madder at accusations with a grain of truth…

“No, listen,” begged Rainbow Dash. “You gotta listen. I love being a pegasus, you know that. I’m just gonna have to express it in other ways—like with my amazing athletic feats, the way I can… oh, horse-apples.”

Applejack put a foreleg around her, holding her close as Pinkie and Fluttershy watched helplessly.

“That’s right,” said Dash, “I can’t keep up the training while having a kid, can I? Not for long. That’s like, not my job, anymore. The thing is, Applejack, you gotta understand! Please understand. I do really want all the pegasuses to love me and think I’m totally awesome…”

“You are,” said Applejack softly. Pinkie nodded. Fluttershy remained very quiet.

Dash was tearing up a little, pleading. “No, listen! I keep saying it, and I mean it. I want your foal. I knew when I found out I was pregnant by you, that it’s an earth pony foal. I want you to know that if I have to pick between my people, and you, I’m gonna pick you. If they don’t like that… I don’t know. Maybe I can get back into training afterwards, make them understand that I can make whatever decisions I want and still be the amazingest pegasus ever…”

“You are,” said Pinkie Pie, loyally.

Dash gulped. “Thanks, guys. Fluttershy? Am I upsetting you? I don’t want to upset you, I know you’re kinda sensitive.”

The two earth ponies turned, startled, realizing what Dash meant. Their mega-pegasus friend was racked with strong feelings, asserting her loyalty to her mate and foal even while it tore her from her culture in some important ways. She swore she’d have loyal pegasus friends but wasn’t even going to pretend it wouldn’t cause her some problems, and they could tell it was frightening her. She’d got in a fight the first time anypony had criticized her about it, and she couldn’t and wouldn’t go back on her decision.

And what of their gentler, more easily frightened pegasus friend, who was in exactly the same situation as Rainbow Dash, but without the athletic skills and heroics to validate herself with other pegasi? What of the pegasus who’d wept, unable to summon the wing power to fly with her companions, who’d fled in shame? Applejack and Pinkie Pie turned, wide-eyed, to look at Fluttershy, fearing they’d raised the specter of a terrifying, hostile world.

Fluttershy looked back, with exactly the same stubborn pout she’d had all along, and her head held high.

“Fuck them,” said the gentle pegasus who’d never found a home in the sky, but had fallen in love with the ground instead. “Fuck them all, if they don’t like it.”

Her jaw was set. Dash, lip quivering a little, lifted her gaze to meet Fluttershy’s, and Fluttershy stared back as if staring down a dragon—defiant to her core.

Dash lifted a hoof, and Fluttershy followed suit, and their hooves met with a bold, rebellious clack—and then it was all hugs and drinking toasts of apple juice to the awesomeness of the two pegasi.

Eventually, they settled on Divinity if Fluttershy’s baby was a filly, or Rock for a colt.

Expertise

Lyra’s horn glowed as she opened the door to Town Hall—or, rather, opened the door from Town Hall. Her head ached from a day filled with figures and numbers, and her horn felt worn to a nub from endless paperwork—but that was the job description for Ponyville’s town accountant, and Lyra knew nopony else was as good at sorting out the endless rows of data. There were times when she thought Mayor Mare surely was doing it on purpose—things wouldn’t add up, columns snaked down the page or merged with each other, fives softened their contours and threatened to become sixes—but nopony ever quibbled about the overtime she claimed, and she used up all her patience grinding away at the endless figures.

It was beyond exasperating. She found less and less time for music practice, between work and home life. Lyra knew she was a young unicorn, but all the same, she had the feeling her life was pissing away and the sensation drove her wild at times. She cursed her weakness, telling herself she had to put in some hours on her music, knowing she probably wouldn’t.

Her lyre waited at home—well, Bon Bon’s home, but she had equity in the place—but magic also awaited, and she would not resist it for long.

Lyra’s expression darkened. Magic and frustration awaited. It was maddening how difficult it had become to get her needs met. One would think that a little understanding wasn’t too much to ask. Increasingly, she spent all day untwisting numbers, and then all night twisting hooves. Her blessing had become a real pain in the butt, not just a glorious pain in the vag.

The gift of a magic bit had not helped her relationship with Bon Bon.

How many years had she spent, since she’d discovered herself as a new-budded lesbian unicorn, in Bon Bon’s embraces? Bon Bon had been the first to take her to unimagined peaks of pleasure. She had squealed and shot magic from her horn in unicorn orgasm, and she’d been Bon Bon’s shadow ever since: obsessed, adoring, attached. She had been Bon Bon’s fetish—her own went unconsidered and unremarked upon, for there seemed no point. What good was a sexual kink for magic use when you were with an earth pony? All that happened was, Bon Bon let her masturbate using her own magic and enjoyed the results, licking up her apparently delicate and precious youthful nectars avidly.

And then—everything changed, in a way both wonderful and terrible.

The Elements of Harmony (who lived in town) had been restless, engaged in some sort of drama, and the interesting thing was, they’d apparently all turned lesbian. Of course, Rainbow Dash was continually making advances, and Pinkie Pie was beyond belief sometimes, but it had spread. They were paying a lot of attention to Applejack, which surprised Lyra as she was only an earth pony farmer—and the newcomer, Twilight Sparkle, seemed caught up in whatever it was. It seemed that Twilight was seeing Applejack. Lyra thought it odd, but there was no accounting for tastes, even if you were an accountant by trade.

Then, one day, she spotted Twilight from behind, and the lovely unicorn mare looked—used.

It told a story that logical young Lyra could not quite work out. Twilight had been seeing her earth pony, yes. But Twilight was a Canterlot unicorn. That implied certain things! Not for a Canterlot unicorn, the gauche physical contrivances such as Bon Bon had once insulted her with—strapping on a wooden phallus and thinking that could grace unicorn vagina. Surely not! And yet, it really looked as if Twilight had taken something good and hard—and there was only the earth pony mare she seemed to be dating. Lyra went to see the earth pony, even though it meant braving Rainbow Dash who’d also been enjoying a little flathead frolicking, to find out if her suspicions were correct.

They had been. Someone had invented a magic item that grew a penis on a mare—a magic penis, that appeared out of thin air and disappeared once you were done! It was not just like a pony penis for mares to use—it was, if Lyra understood it correctly, a phallus literally composed of raw magic energy in the form of a stiff, throbbing, natural-feeling stallionhood.

The instant Lyra understood that, she had a new fetish that dominated her every thought.

The situation had gone awry, in some way—Lyra knew she’d been a part of its resolution, but wasn’t clear on every detail. Twilight had lost her earth pony lover, but had ended up with the very sexy traveling magician Trixie Lulamoon—no loss, then—and with Trixie, Twilight had put magic bits into a sort of mass production. And, to thank her for the help when things were at their worst, Twilight and Trixie had given her and Bon Bon one of the bits to keep.

In restrospect, thought Lyra, that was when things started to fall apart.

The very first time Bon Bon had taken that bit in her teeth, heaved herself onto Lyra’s shaking body, and thrust pure magic hard-on into her pussy, Lyra had blasted a big hole in the wall of Lyra’s house through sheer unicorngasm. She hadn’t just squirted, she’d done major property damage, and startled the hell out of her boss, who’d been passing by. She’d been unconscious, but apparently Bon Bon had been very embarrassed to see the Mayor peeking in the side of her house. Mayor Mare had inquired about using the blast as a weapon. When Bon Bon had explained curtly that unicorn horn-come wasn’t normally that strong, the Mayor had retired in haste, blushing scarlet, looking back over her shoulder in fascination as she fled.

When Lyra had awoken, that time, her horn charred from the discharge and her mind dazed as if she had been clubbed in the head with fuck, she had begged Bon Bon for the same—again! She’d grovelled, promised anything. And Bon Bon had said—no, you must recover.

And that’s how it had been, ever since. Lyra, working all day adding up the Mayor’s increasingly demented figures, then slinking home to demand and plead and entreat her earth pony lover to take that magic bit between her teeth, produce the magic phallus, thrust it into her, give her what she had to have. Fighting off the weakness brought about through extended, debilitating climax—developing dark circles under her eyes—figuring out how to trick Bon Bon and seem more recovered than she really was so she could have the magic dicking sooner. Lyra thought of little else, and Bon Bon grew more and more contrary and annoyed, and her frustration was experienced ten times over by trembling, desperate Lyra.

It was maddening that the love of her life, her first great love and the mare she’d lived with for years, could somehow fail to understand her absolutely basic needs.

Lyra hung her head as she trotted along towards home. She suspected she wasn’t getting any tonight—Bon Bon had allowed her to wake up to lovemaking. She’d been licking Lyra’s clit as she’d once done, long before the magic bit entered their lives. It worked—as foreplay. Bon Bon had looked really fed up as Lyra levitated the bit over for her, and the ensuing fucking had been rough and grumpy, though Lyra did blast a picture off the wall when she came, cracking the glass inside the picture frame. That hadn’t helped Bon Bon’s mood.

A squeal caught Lyra’s attention as she brooded, and she looked up.

It was Twilight—and Rarity. They’d burst out of the Carousel Boutique, galloping merrily and lost to foolish giggles. Lyra stopped, her eyes yearning for a moment—the two unicorns seemed to understand each other so well, and their joy was infectuous. Rarity ran ahead, while Twilight chased after, her magic levitating, yes, a magic bit—and also, a flat paddle, for some reason.

“You shall risk it!” cried Twilight, giggling madly.

“But, but, I daren’t! It might do you harm, I… eep!” squealed Rarity. She’d spotted Lyra watching them. “Consarn! Consarn, darling!”

At those odd words, Twilight screeched to a halt—and suddenly, rather than brandishing the paddle aggressively in a magic grip, she seemed to be coyly hiding it behind her delicious lavender flank. “Shall we head over to the library? And continue our conversation?”

Rarity glanced around warily. “I quite agree. But, darling, please defer to my judgement—it could be dangerous, as you are aware. We shan’t play full-on. Acceptable?”

Twilight nodded. “You always seem to know best, Rarity.”

The lovely white unicorn nodded in satisfaction, and the two set off across town, and Lyra watched them go—and sighed—and continued heading for home, this time hopefully without distraction…

“Hi there Miss Lyra!”

It was a little filly pony, the one from the earth pony farm, trotting along beside her and looking up cheerfully.

“Hah ya doin’? I was jes’ wonderin’ if I could git a few minutes of your time and ask ya some questions?”

Lyra rolled her eyes and began trotting faster.

“Seein’ as me an’ my friends figure you’re prob’ly an expert on mares gettin’ with mares, so they say… hey! Miss Lyra!”

Apple Bloom ran frantically, but the lithe young adult unicorn had two things the earth pony filly couldn’t begin to approach. One was a set of long, elegant, toned legs that sent the dirt flying as she broke into a gallop. The other was a pissy, sour mood that had been inflamed by the glimpse of a world she couldn’t have, and then set off by the sudden, inexplicable demand for an interview, for Celestia knew what reason.

Lyra sprinted in a fit of manic temper for ‘home’, and Apple Bloom could only watch her go.

“Dang it!”

And at Bon Bon’s house, Lyra burst through the door, startling Bon Bon, who looked up in alarm—as her mercurial, impossible lover stood over her and let out a bray like some maddened donkey.

“This… daaaay… SUUUUCKS!”

Bon Bon’s head dropped defeatedly into her hooves.

Twilight bowed her head, her horn glowing, courteously opening her door for her special friend, and Rarity stepped elegantly through it with a smile for the third unicorn who reclined on a couch, engrossed in a book.

“And how is our filthy slut today?” inquired Trixie Lulamoon, without looking up from her book.

“Very well, Mistress,” replied Rarity, without batting an eyelash.

“Trixie,” said Twilight, “I’m going to try out Rarity’s stallion form, okay? I really want to.”

Trixie looked over, upon hearing that. “Oh? Trixie is concerned about this idea. If she’s rough, or loses control…”

Rarity opened her mouth to protest, and then froze. Trixie had fixed her with a hard stare—but she had not spoken without permission, she had only intended to.

“Go ahead, girl,” said Trixie, “you may speak.”

Rarity licked her lips. “Mistress, I must ask that we be permitted to try our sexual exploration outside the conditions of the Relationship, for the very reason you mention. I feel certain I can control myself if I am not deeply plunged into masochistic release, but it may be dangerously exciting. I wish to retain all the control and detachment I can, for safety’s sake. Perhaps one day in the future, if all goes well, we can play within the Relationship, but for today?”

Trixie continued to look at her sternly. She got up, walking over to Rarity, staring at her while Rarity looked straight ahead during the inspection—and then nodded. “Three hours, girl. Trixie is, as always, pleased with your experience and wisdom.”

“Oh, Mistress,” said Rarity, “we surely won’t need three whole hours…”

“Girl!” snapped Trixie, and Rarity froze automatically. “Trixie did not start the clock—and you do not complain about over-generous gifts! Three hours… starting…”

Rarity stared at nothing again, trembling.

“Now!” said Trixie, and broke into a wide smile. “Rarity, it’s an education, it really is. You think it’s not safe to start right off under submission?”

Rarity shook herself. “Indeed not! My. It’s like coming up from under water… gasping for breath… you’re so authoritative…”

“Oh, Rarity! Thank you,” said Trixie, and gave her a little kiss. “Every day is a new adventure with you in our lives.”

“It’s been like that before you were here!” said Twilight. “Some of the adventures we’ve had…”

“Ah, but you did not have sweet Rarity as a dedicated submissive, then. …did you?” said Trixie.

“No way!” said Twilight. “I couldn’t even have imagined it!”

“I could have,” said Trixie reflectively.

Twilight and Rarity blinked. “Really?”

“That one time,” said Trixie, “when Trixie was putting on her show—and did battle with several of you, including the beautiful Rarity—and glimpsed her arousal even as she fled in disarray…”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed, and she wore a tight little grin. “Ah, yes. That day. I have safewords now, darling, and do not welcome the blowing of my cover. You did it anyhow, and laughed.”

“Trixie is sorry?” said the blue unicorn.

“And damned right I was aroused,” said Rarity. “My, yes. You do realize, darling, that if ever I earn the right to switch on you, then you are in for an experience you’ll not soon forget?”

Trixie trembled. “One day. When Trixie is really, really ready. That is a promise.”

Rarity smiled fondly, a glint in her eye. “Oh, you won’t be. Nothing shall prepare you. But it shall be out of love and a deeper understanding of you, Mistress.”

“That,” said Trixie, her eyes wide, “is just what I’m afraid of.”

Rarity batted her eyelashes at Trixie, and turned to Twilight. “Speaking of preparing, darling, we’ve got all the time in the world, it seems—shall we retire to your bed and commence our explorations?”

Twilight nodded, smiling. “Yes please!”

Rarity glanced back at Trixie. “Would Mistress like to take part? I would ask that things not get rambunctious. At least not this time, hm?”

Trixie blinked, and even more of her dominant facade slipped away. “I… this is your time, Rarity. Trixie thought the point was that you and Mistress would be with each other outside the Relationship. Why are you asking me this?”

Seeing her uncertainty, Rarity walked forward to nuzzle her own Mistress. “One does not engage in the Relationship to exempt oneself from love, darling. Our agreement does not bind for the next three hours, but caring is a joyful burden one does not lay down lightly, and your feelings remain ever so important. I do ask, Trixie dearest, Mistress of mine, switch to our darling Twilight Sparkle: would you like to take part in some way?”

“How do you want her to answer?” said Twilight, her ears quirked.

“Uht!” reproved Rarity. “I wish her answer from her heart, not from her willingness to serve! Please do not direct her, Twilight, inappropriate!”

“Sorry!”

“Not at all—it is an understandable reaction. Well, Trixie?”

Trixie considered this. “It would be something to watch… Trixie thinks it might be somewhat alarming, though…”

Twilight licked her lips, tail twitching in sweet agitation.

“You must trust me,” said Rarity.

“Trixie is very comfortable on her couch with her book, however… Trixie wishes to continue her reading. Um… do I get my own private session, too?”

Rarity didn’t bat an eyelash. “Fairness would tend to demand it. And it is wise to not develop an implied requirement for three-ways, causing two-ways to seem overly special.”

Twilight and Trixie both stared at her, after that—and Twilight said, “Wow. How did we get along without you, Rarity? How do you know all this?”

The elegant white unicorn’s eye twinkled, and a smile snuck mischievously onto her face.

“…’years of applebucking’?”

Twilight snickered, and Trixie followed suit, slightly confused, for she hadn’t been present the day that Applejack had publically sprung that line on a stunned and out-kicked Rainbow Dash. The meaning, however, was plain enough.

“Trixie is glad she has you tied down—both through contract, and often literally!” said Trixie.

“Oh, I am glad too, Mistress! But for now, shall we retire, Twilight? Though we have a most generous gift of time, there is no sense spending it in idle chatter, hm?”

Twilight nodded. “No way! I’m thinking I’ll have to spend a lot of time warming up to it…”

“Oh,” said Rarity, “a good point, to be sure. I’ll take that bit, darling, and we shan’t need the paddle tonight, but be a love and fetch something for me?”

“Sure! What do you want?”

Rarity waggled her eyebrows lasciviously. “Butter.”

Twilight blinked. “Oh! I guess that would work. Really? You don’t like getting untidy. I thought you weren’t subbing, or getting degraded?”

At this, Rarity pouted. “It’s true—I shall bathe afterwards. Perhaps within the three hours in case SOME pony has bright ideas about making me stay messy all night…”

Trixie smirked, but returned to her couch and book with an ostentatious display of nonchalance.

“But,” continued Rarity, “some things trump tidiness, darling. Your precious marehood won’t stand much of this treatment without assistance.”

Twilight’s ears were quirked, as if she couldn’t tell whether to be flattered or offended. “When you were dating Applejack, she seemed to be okay with it.”

Rarity’s smirk was wickedness incarnate. “She begged for respite, darling.”

Twilight’s eyes bugged out, and she panted.

Rarity winced. “No more chit-chat: I should not have drawn back the veil on Applejack’s intimacies. Don’t press me on it? She is safely squared away with Rainbow Dash and her more manageable charms. Go fetch some butter, please, darling. I feel abundant.”

Twilight galloped madly into the kitchen, as Rarity levitated her magic bit and walked proudly up the stairs to Twilight’s bedroom—a sturdy bed, which had to be sturdy when it held up to three excited ponies on a good night. Soon, eager hooves were heard on the stairs, and Twilight trotted in, her magic carrying the butter dish.

“Where do you want me to put it?” she asked.

Rarity smirked, and Twilight blushed. “Oh gosh. In with the stupid questions, huh?”

“Oh, no. In with the aid of butter—endearing with the stupid questions.”

Twilight didn’t climb into the bed. She stood at its edge, biting her lip. “It’s that intense, huh?”

Rarity blinked, at that. “I’ve told you, we shan’t do it full-on without acclimating you. Dear Twilight, that part of you will take a hoof if it’s done properly: there is no practical barrier keeping you from my stallionhood, it is a matter of caution and good practice.”

Twilight paled. “Nopony I know could take a hoof, Rarity! Aren’t you exaggerating?”

“I have, dear, so somepony you know has.”

“You’re kidding! …are you kidding?”

“Indeed I am not. If you like, I’ll make Mistress Trixie aware of it…”

A voice called from downstairs. “Trixie has just become aware of it!”

“There, you see? Perhaps we can show you. But not tonight, darling! Tonight you shall tackle a less savage intrusion, but all the same one to reckon with!”

Twilight blinked, and bit her lip again, dropping her head bashfully and peering up from under her bangs. “I’ll… try. It’s scary. Will you be gentle?”

Rarity blinked. “I’ve just told you I w… Twilight Sparkle, are you putting that on?”

Twilight nodded. “Uh-huh…” she said shyly.

“May I ask why?”

Twilight flicked her tail, coyly. “I thought, since we’re always playing games and stuff… if it’s so big, I could pretend to be a little unicorn filly, and we’d pretend you were a big grown…”

“Consarn! Consarn that, darling!” objected Rarity.

“What? But we spent half of yesterday whipping you while you were chained to your own bedposts! What’s the problem if I…”

Rarity’s eyes flashed. “Just a moment, Twilight. If you are going to partake in scenes, I simply must insist you learn safewords thoroughly! One does not cavil and argue when one hears a safeword—it is not your judgement that applies! I’m sorry, darling, don’t pout. But it’s terribly important!”

“I know, I know,” sighed Twilight. “Consarn means stop, and apples means stop doubly much. I’m sorry, I’ll be more careful, I wasn’t really going to argue. I’m not really a little unicorn filly.”

“Indeed not! You are a beautiful, ravishing mare and a dear friend! Now quick, do you remember your own safeword?”

“Sure. ‘Starswirl’,” said Twilight. “I don’t have a second one. Why do you only use ‘consarn’, and we never hear ‘apples’, Rarity?”

“Because I do not panic, darling. And that is a testament to how much I trust you and Mistress Trixie, and you should be proud at how well you’ve learned all this.”

Twilight whickered gently. Then, she smiled. “I can’t help but notice a certain—theme, to your safewords? Somehow, it seems to remind me of somepony.”

Rarity blushed gently.

“She really got under your skin, huh?”

“Oh, Twilight.”

“Is that where you got the ‘mommy is a filthy pony’ thing? From her?” asked Twilight.

“What? Ah… have you a kinkier thing you’d wish me to say, darling? I am nothing if not flexible. And yes, Applejack made quite an impression, and yes, she has much to do with my safewords.”

“I think I understand,” said Twilight. “I guess if you need a steadfast guardian angel, it’s hard to beat Applejack. Right?”

Rarity’s gaze was serious. “Understand—I am happy she is with Rainbow Dash. We half killed each other, she and I—but even through all that, even at its worst, I still had the sense she would die to protect me. Or you, for that matter—it wasn’t only about me. Is it any wonder that my inner guardian now speaks with her voice?”

“Oh, I think I understand. I picked Starswirl because I associate him with his wing of the Royal Library, and I used to study with Princess Celestia there,” said Twilight. “Maybe that’s not as good, but it’s where I’d want to go if I needed to run away.”

“Ah, but that’s just it, darling! It should be personal. It is our responsibility to learn that about you, so when driven beyond your boundaries you need not translate your heart’s cries. There can be times when you cry out a safeword not intending to do so. In some communities, it’s the custom to honor that whether you like it or not—on the principle that, if you lost control enough to be vague about whether you’re bailing out of the scene, you should gather your wits and consider.”

Twilight nodded. “It sounds very responsible.”

Rarity smirked, back in command as the expert of such things. “When you are playing with fires and knives and dangerous machinery—and even geared winches can be very dangerous—there is only one way to be, and that is responsible. But enough studiousness, dear Twilight! Are you prepared to embark upon a new journey? You may find it… compelling.”

Twilight Sparkle licked her lips, gazing down at the very experienced and seductive unicorn that lay on her bed, and felt herself go wet and slippery. She flicked her tail, began to bite her lip coyly again, and then made herself stop. Rarity had called a safeword, and she would not get to openly play out a filly Twilight fantasy—one she had never experienced when she was a filly, and therefore a thing of tantalizing mystery.

But… thoughts were free.

Twilight climbed into bed with Rarity, and snuggled up, keeping her more private thoughts to herself.

She nestled back against Rarity, wriggling gently, shivering with pleasure as Rarity’s foreleg went around her, reaching down to caress between her legs, pony breasts begging for the touch, nipples standing up in answer to that unmistakable feeling of impending sex. Rarity felt commanding, hungry.

“Part your legs, darling.”

“How come?” said Twilight, and then hastily added, “I mean, sure, here you go!” She raised a hindleg obligingly, warning herself to not be caught acting too innocent. Hearing Rarity’s safeword of ‘consarn’ was quickly going to become the worst imaginable thing for the moment, and Twilight hastily walled off her more private fantasy behind a facade of horny mare—but secretly, she blinked in cute incomprehension, imagining herself both primed for an epic sexual awakening and mysteriously oblivious to every detail of that awakening.

Before she could think much about the incongruity of that imagined situation, she felt Rarity move against her, heard the clink of a bit between teeth, and what seemed like another pony leg thrust between hers, rubbing cozily up against her nipples—both of them, at once.

“Th’nk you. You m’y close your legs upon it… if you c’n!”

Twilight’s heart began to pound. Sweet Celestia! She let her hindleg drop, but Rarity’s massive stallionhood would not allow her legs to close entirely, and she sandwiched it between her thighs, pressing it against her pony breasts. Twilight gasped a few panicky breaths. This was crazy, impossible!

Rarity tenderly shifted her hips, pushing the titanic shaft and tugging it, making it move and feel even more alive. “You like, d’rling?”

Twilight mewled, and squirmed. Her maddened cunt had gone drippy wet and felt turgid and desperate, but her mind screamed with panic and warning. Suddenly, all fantasies of imposing arousal physically upon her innocent body were blown away by the contrasting reality—her body had reared up and cried, I am utterly mare, rut me—and her mind was the part that felt unequal and panicky.

“Tw’light? Answ’r!”

Twilight’s voice proved part of her body.

“OH GOD FUCK ME!”

Rarity smiled around her grip on the magic bit. “Legs open, d’rling. F’rgive me if this ‘s chilly…”

Twilight parted her legs, shuddering, and Rarity twitched her heavy stallionhood away with a jerk of her hips. It bounced off Twilight’s inner thigh first, and the lavender unicorn jolted and squealed to feel that massiveness and weight thump her there. The next thing she knew, she felt Rarity’s magic casting from right behind her head, and the purpose became apparent—a magic touch began to smear butter against her vagina, and then press inwards to squeeze the softened butter into her feverish nook.

“Y’re already wet, d’rling…”

“Haaaaahh…” managed Twilight, her eyes crossing slightly at the sensations. She heard further squishy greasy sounds as Rarity anointed the swollen horsecock with a thick coating of more butter…

“Now this sh’d be warm!”

Rarity’s hips shifted forward, and a huge blunt cock-head tucked right into Twilight’s unicorn pussy and wedged right up against the tightness of her entrance.

She squealed again. It felt as if all her insides had liquefied and turned to erotic ooze in one numbing jolt of teeth-gritting arousal. The cock-head pushed hard. It didn’t fit, but it was damned hungry, full of urgency, flaring outward eagerly as Rarity’s horniness grew…

“Hrm… Brace y’rself, d’rling. Bite the p’llow…”

Twilight gasped. Rather than lie on the bed behind her, Rarity had reared up, rolling her partly onto her belly, straddling her, legs braced like a tripod and pinning her down. Twilight’s ass was poking up, and that massive shaft was still prodding dead center on her hysterical vagina, but now her lover had both a bit in her teeth, and serious leverage. Rarity’s elegant back got into it, and her hips pressed forward firmly, then insistently—then ruthlessly.

“Ohgodohgoditcan’t… ahhh! AAAAH!”

With a glorious searing flare of pleasure-pain, Twilight felt the stallionhood pry its way through her taut, strained entrance, and rest there, throbbing heavily.

“Aaaahhh! nnnhh! Aaaah! It ahhh!”

“Now, if y’ do th’s, d’rling, r’member, firm g’ntle motions…”

Rarity wasn’t kidding. Her back strained to shift that cock in its tight confines, but the butter helped, and her chest pinning Twilight to the bed also helped. Twilight’s butt was thrust frantically up against Rarity’s crotch, her own legs in a similar awkward, dramatic pose as her lover’s hips nudged determinedly against her, using the firm gentle motions.

Twilight wailed and shook, all pretense forgotten. It felt like her whole rear end was throbbing to the same tempo of the pulse within that massive stallionhood. She nuzzled the pillow drunkenly, and heard Rarity speak again.

“In…”

The bulk wedged within her strained confines didn’t stop being firm and gentle—but the power ramped up, and what felt like an impossibly large amount of stallion-meat thrust more deeply into Twilight, shoving with tender force and stretching her deeper and deeper, every inch widening more of her marehood as it penetrated her slippery inner folds.

“Haaaaahhh!”

“Yes… yess… IN…”

Rarity was growing more excited, for the vibes and sensations of fucking Twilight were beyond belief. Twilight wriggled obscenely, crying out like a lost soul, and her pussy wasn’t just tight at the entrance—no, pressing deeper into her brought overwhelming new sensations of cock-head parting dense turgid tunnels of marehood that enfolded slickly and quivered for deeper penetration.

Up along Rarity’s shaft, Twilight’s strained entrance clenched and gripped, never harshly enough to sound a warning, not with the harsh narrow clamping of a mare shutting down and ceasing to enjoy—no, it was the fires of a fevered grasping, felt through Twilight’s tensing rump and along the sides of the engorged stallionhood, stroking it to heightened stiffness as Rarity steadily thrust deep, and the whole of Twilight’s pussy seemed to give itself over to lascivious fondling and grabbing of the thick, intruding shaft as Rarity snarled and began to plunge more hungrily to Twilight’s womb, ramming it boldly to her cervix, over and over…

Twilight shrieked, and then Rarity screamed through the bit clamped in her teeth.

Twilight Sparkle pounded her pillow with a forehoof, the tendons standing out on her neck, her face gone bright red, and filled the air with guttural cries of “YES! YESS!” as she came, her body shuddering in a mad, incoherent earthquake of orgasmic shocks that shook her like a rag in the jaws of a gleeful puppy.

The puppy in question wasn’t looking so elegant anymore. Rarity looked like a beast, her eyes wild, her mane a little unkempt, and her spasms weren’t the feminine dissolution into quivering jelly. Not for her the helpless surrender, sucked under willingly into a feverish roiling cauldron of sexual frenzy—Rarity experienced once more the fierce peaks of the male orgasm, her nostrils flared and her teeth bared as she felt the surge, and WHAM spurted a gout of stallion-come into her quivering, hysterical lover, and WHAM felt the wave fling her again, fling her body deeply into Twilight’s pussy, fling the spooge through that hard member into Twilight’s body, and NGH she grinned like a fiend as she weathered another delicious spasm, then a lull for just a moment and she pushed deeper on purpose as Twilight wriggled helplessly and GH! one more mountaintop… and then a little after-spooge, the sensation of her body just pumping a little more come into her lover, and then a sort of weak exhausted oozing to finish it off…

She panted. Damn. You’d almost trade with the stallions… if you liked mountaintops.

Rarity’s head sagged, triumphantly. Mountaintops RULED.

Under her, Twilight Sparkle shuddered and moaned, still coming. Her pussy had no grip left in it at this point—she was so wrung out that every muscle was limp, including those inside her. The clinging pressure was nothing more than the enfolding comfort of her tender vagina, still taut but only because Rarity was unreasonably huge and Twilight’s vagina, snug.

Downstairs, Trixie Lulamoon whistled and clapped, in playful mockery and at the same time sincerely. “When’s my turn, girl?”

Rarity panted. “Not, I think, tonight!”

Twilight crooned, nuzzling the pillow—the most sated mare in Equestria—and Rarity nuzzled her mane and kissed the back of her fevered, sagging ear.

The light of late afternoon illuminated the clubhouse. Inside, a meeting was underway—not yet a project, but an issue that had nagged at the three friends all the more when their adult companions kept them in the dark.

“So how do they even make foals anyway?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Scootaloo grinned. “I heard from Rainbow Dash!”

Sweetie boggled at her. “Really? Rainbow Dash taught you how to make foals?”

“Well… kinda! I was listening as she was joking around with Pinkie Pie. She did a thing with her hips, and she said, it’s funny how you’re another husband but I never saw you lay it down!”

“What did Pinkie Pie say?” asked Apple Bloom, skeptically.

“She said, I don’t actually need your toys for that! So you have to lay down, and there’s toys!” said Scootaloo. “Sounds perfect to me!”

Sweetie shook her head. “I don’t think that’s what she meant, Scootaloo.”

“It totally ain’t,” said Apple Bloom, “cos you don’t lay down, silly!”

“How would you know?” challenged Scootaloo.

“Cause of on the farm, that’s how! Granny Smith tole me to watch the farm animals, and that would teach me all I need to know for now.”

“Oh yeah? How could that teach you more than what Rainbow Dash knows about making foals with laying it down?”

“Well, it did!” said Apple Bloom, and looked around conspiratorially. The other two fillies leaned in, expectant.

“You gotta stand up, on all four legs! And the stallion pokes out a thing, called a penis, and he pushes it INTO the mare! It goes into her pee-hole, not up her butt—I got a close look for a moment there before he done chased me off squealin’. It’s real skinny, and sort of curly-cue, you cain’t hardly see it. An’ it squirts somethin’, that’s how it works.”

“Skinny?” said Sweetie.

“Curly?” said Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom looked stubborn. “That’s right. I learned from watchin’ the pigs.”

“Does it hurt?” said Sweetie.

“I don’t reckon so. She din’t seem ta mind none. Must be like gettin’ a stick poked into you or somethin’.”

“That would hurt! What if it scraped you? I don’t want my va-jay-jay poked with a stick!” said Scootaloo.

“Well, especially afterwards, it looked all shiny and drippy. It happened so fast, Scootaloo, I don’t even know much more. But it was wet.”

“Ew!”

“Maybe the pig lady peed all over it?” said Sweetie Belle, uncertainly.

“Ew!” repeated Scootaloo, even louder. She made gagging noises, and stuck out her tongue, her little wings flapping in dismay.

“Rarity told me something once, but she made me promise never to tell anypony she said it, and she was really embarrassed,” said Sweetie Belle.

The other two leaned in to listen, and Sweetie leaned closer to whisper it.

“She said, don’t forget to check out the second bulge, for the wallet!”

“That don’t even make sense!” objected Apple Bloom.

“She must be talking about her work. She makes pants and fancy dresses, right?” said Scootaloo.

Sweetie nodded, and Scootaloo continued. “Yeah! Well, then it makes sense. Carrying a wallet makes a bulge. And then this thing—where did it come from, Apple Bloom?”

“It shot out from between the boar’s hind legs, Scootaloo. Skinny red thing it were.”

“Well then!” said Scootaloo. “If the wallet is the second bulge, then if the pig was wearing pants, its thingy would be the first bulge.”

“Wouldn’t be much of a bulge,” objected Apple Bloom. “It’d have to be a much bigger thingy if it was gonna bulge, in pants.”

“Yeah, well, forgive me if I like your story better, as gross as it is,” said Scootaloo. “You say a thingy gets pushed INTO me to make foals? It sounds bad enough already. Why would I want it to be much bigger?”

“Ya got me there,” said Apple Bloom. “I reckon Granny Smith is right—that was more than I wanted ta know.”

Sweetie Belle said nothing, and looked thoughtful.

Out On The Tiles

Sometimes, thought Lyra, it really was a lot of trouble keeping an old mare on the job.

Lyra bit her lip, teeth baring in half-feigned pleasure as Bon Bon’s tongue explored her pert vagina. She wasn’t that worried about being convincing: things had settled down, somehow, and they’d come to some sort of unspoken agreement. Bon Bon hardly even argued anymore.

It seemed so strange. How did an older mare, who had once been the light of her life, descend so far? Had it always been her imagination? Once, she had glowed in Bon Bon’s adoration, allowed her body to be played on like it was some sort of instrument—her spring-green, radiant flanks, her petite nubs of breasts, her small excitable marehood, all worshipped by her earth pony lover. Bon Bon had been everything: first sexual experience, provider of a home, though Lyra had insisted upon paying half the bills, and did it, too, a lot of the time…

Bon Bon had been her world, and she basked daily, enclosed in that world.

And then, the magic bit had arrived, and brought with it a thunderbolt of erotic pleasure, and opened up a whole world that Lyra could see from within her Bon Bon one—and she grew restless and voracious and began to make demands, only to find that demands were unwelcome.

Lyra’s thoughts roamed, even as Bon Bon’s mouth closed over her trim vulva and that tongue began to work away at her labia, tucking between, trying to coax the blossom to pout and swell eagerly as it had once done.

She’d always had the fetish for magic. It seemed obvious, it just didn’t enter into things that much, until the magic bit turned up. That was when Lyra realized she didn’t match Bon Bon nearly as well as she’d imagined. The foolish darling seemed to get nothing out of being penetrated by Lyra’s magical stallion form! She had one big thing, and that was eating young mare pussy, and she stubbornly clung to that no matter how Lyra tried to dress up bit-oriented activities. It had been all right back when the only false penis available was a hideous wooden earth pony thing, but now that they had an amazing magical tool available, it maddened Lyra to see it scorned.

At least Bon Bon seemed resigned to her new duties. It’d been very hard to teach her.

Bon Bon’s eyes were closed as her tongue explored, and for a moment she looked strangely vulnerable and sad, which was an overtone to the lovemaking that seemed weird to Lyra—a dark undercurrent from unknown sources. For a moment, Bon Bon’s head moved with longing tenderness, making love the way she used to do, back when Lyra knew no better and innocently exploded in ecstacy at the touch of her loving tongue.

Lyra, no longer innocent of her options, reached out with her levitation and readied the magic bit for the second act.

Bon Bon’s eyes opened, forlorn and dreamy—and saw Lyra’s eyes looking down on her with their calculating look on full display, saw the floating bit held in Lyra’s magic—and Bon Bon froze for a moment, and then shut her eyes against the sight and dove in hungrily, filling her senses with unicorn pussy, so passionately that Lyra gasped and shuddered. Oh, she did have skills, that Bon Bon. There was something about the raw conviction of it—she’d heard from Rainbow Dash that Pinkie Pie also shared that madness for cunnilingus, perhaps it was some flathead thing to want to weld your mouth to the vagina of a magical creature and drive her to orgasm. Pegasi didn’t squirt magic, but all the same they were magical creatures of a sort, thought Lyra.

And then, Bon Bon had pulled back, wearing an odd expression that seemed hurt and determined and yearning all at once.

“Okay,” she said, and shifted forwards, stretching her neck out and seizing the bit before Lyra could even float it down and place it in what was sometimes a rather unwilling mouth.

Bon Bon bared her teeth around the bit, at Lyra, but somehow without the usual crankiness. There was something valiant about her, like she was dedicating herself to the cause of making this one special.

“Come f’r me, Heartstrings,” she said, and Lyra gasped—she hadn’t used that bed-name in some time.

Then, the swollen head of Bon Bon’s magically induced stallionhood pressed against Lyra’s thoroughly warmed-up unicorn vagina, and Lyra’s eyes rolled back in her head—and coherent thought was abandoned.

It penetrated her boldly, hungrily, wedging into her snug confines with a delicate slurp and an even subtler wet noise as it thrust into her quivering body. Lyra gasped, wrapping her legs around her lover, tail flicking in jolts of pleasure. Bon Bon was so ungentle, her solid earth pony body heaving against Lyra, dull earth muscle contracting effortlessly to drive magical stallion-meat deeply up unicorn vag.

Lyra felt overwhelmed in a delicious way, a renewed taste of the erotic flavor they’d once shared so easily: she was the magic, the precious flower blooming in arousal, and Bon Bon was the solid and dependable anchor, the irresistible force of appreciation, forever devoted. It had lent character even to the oral sex they’d always enjoyed, but once the magic bit entered the picture it had gone up a level: Lyra wondered if part of her thrill was thanks to the stolid impact of that slightly dumpy earth pony body, the heavy muscular denseness of her, the ability to make Lyra feel like a tiny fragile jewel in her grip. Bon Bon had always been stronger, and it had always been a turn-on, and turning her into a stallion had been strangely perfect.

For a moment, Lyra imagined Bon Bon as purely an earth pony stallion, and though it heightened the sense of faint degradation Lyra admitted to, it also packed a kinky wallop not to be denied. Lyra bared her teeth in a silent whinny of horniness, imagining a big heavy solid earth pony cock plunging so entitledly into her. There was something so carnal about it, and the way Bon Bon moved made it so easy to imagine.

And though she knew it was a phallus of pure magic—indeed, unicorn-made magic—that plumbed her, Lyra’s curious mind fixed on the fantasy, and found it good. Bon Bon sweated, hips pumping with tender force, thrusting the fat stallionhood within her lover, and Lyra gritted her teeth, clinging on for dear life as Bon Bon got into it, reeling in sensual thrill as her dainty vagina took a pounding—and in Lyra’s mind, she imagined Bon Bon a full earth pony stallion, grunting in animal passion and rutting his lovely unicorn mare.

He’d have seized her, perhaps flung her to the ground and leapt hungrily upon her—she’d have been shy and conflicted, longing to get physical and yet hung up with her ever-present worries and her dreadfully busy mind that always raised so many objections and criticisms of any action or thought she had. She’d have been in one of those states, thought Lyra, the world vibrating with indecision around her, expectation and decorum and doubt conspiring to freeze her into a tense, miserable unicorn of woe.

And Bon Bon as an earth pony stallion would have ignored all that and grabbed her, becoming erect, smelling of the fields, seeing right through her and responding only to the goadings of her marehood, scorning her rationalizations. She would not have objected, but her beautiful golden eyes would have been a frantic question, her body trembling, poised between mad arousal and the restraint of her well-trained mind.

He’d have answered that question with a grunt, a cloddish pout as if understanding that Lyra’s concerns occupied a higher plane—and then he would move anyway, his whole body doubling up irresistibly, and his thick heavy earth pony cock would wedge into her and shove deep, possessing and transfixing her with a single confident thrust.

Lyra writhed, squealing a breathy soprano squeal, for even as she wallowed in such thoughts, Bon Bon kept on humping her. For all practical purposes, the fierce and sullen gaze that transfixed her was that very earth pony stallion, the snarl of lust around the magic bit in Bon Bon’s teeth was the crude hunger of his heedless appetite, and Bon Bon’s body did indeed double up irresistibly in a climactic series of powerful, bold shoves, thrusting thick heavy pony cock to Lyra’s ultimate depths with breathtaking sureness…

Lyra screamed. She thrashed her head around, and Bon Bon didn’t let up for a moment, understanding her lover’s peaks and strange needs, driving her mercilessly over the edge with no quarter given to lastminute fuss or reservations—and then, Lyra bucked and shook under Bon Bon, emitting a sharp squeal as a blast of magic shot from her horn and knocked the bedside table over, tearing a small hole in the wall behind it.

Bon Bon grunted, extending Lyra’s shrieking release by responding with a series of shudders and spurts of magic-come into her frantic, spasming depths. Lyra thrashed, imagining great goopy blobs of earth pony semen gushing into her unicorn womb, and blasted the top off one of the bedposts with another orgasmic magic discharge.

They hung, poised, for a moment, as the peak subsided.

Bon Bon sagged, counting the damage. It had been a while since Lyra’s orgasms had been that intense. She peered down at Lyra, whose eyes stared vacantly, whose tongue lolled.

“You okay, heartstrings? Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. You have work…”

Lyra shook her head, some of her calculating look coming back. “Totally. Mmmh… totally okay. Oh, yeah… good job, sooo fucking hot babe…”

“You don’t look totally okay. You could… stay home?” Bon Bon gulped, looking alarmed with herself that she’d said it, like it was a very big deal—but Lyra wasn’t responding.

“No way. I can go to work, it’s not that big a deal. I better get going! I’ll be late, and you know the overtime I’ve been working. Hey—that’s good, right? I think I owe you towards the house and bills and stuff.”

Bon Bon sagged more.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” she said, not meeting Lyra’s eye.

She rolled off Lyra, who tried to jump to her feet and trot off, but only sprawled in a limp unicorn heap on the floor.

“Oh, now, Heartstrings, please!”

“I got it!” insisted Lyra. She forced herself to her hooves, staring back challengingly at Bon Bon from bright eyes which sported dark circles underneath. “It wasn’t that intense. You gotta try harder, alright? Can I have another round tonight? Since it’ll be a long day at the office?”

Bon Bon looked away. “But… it was good. Wasn’t it? I mean, with the table and the wall and the bedpost, it had to be good, huh?”

Lyra considered lying and understating things—for a moment.

“It was really awesomely good, yeah.”

Bon Bon looked up. “I’m glad. Seriously, I am. Off you go, Lyra.”

Lyra bridled for a moment, but she knew that look. Bon Bon wore the truculent look that said she’d become a brick wall, a look that had slipped for a moment but was back in place. There was no sense demanding more sex yet. She’d just have to start again after work and see what she could get. The earth pony stallion fantasy called—it had been obscenely arousing, and Lyra wanted seconds, and thirds—but she knew better than to admit it.

“Later!” said Lyra with feigned insouciance, and she trotted unsteadily off, wobbling but lifting her hooves high in a show of spiritedness and health.

Bon Bon watched her go, and didn’t move until she was out of sight.

Once out of sight, Lyra went “Whoo!” and staggered onward, smugly, on shaking hooves.

Bon Bon sighed and turned to inspect the blast damage.

“Hey!” called Rainbow Dash, trotting down the lane.

Applejack blinked, startled. “Look at you! Sky ain’t good enough for ya, sugarcube?”

Rainbow trotted up and nuzzled her lover. “Oh, it’s still great. I just wore myself out cloud-herding, that’s all. Can you believe it?”

“Afraid so,” said Applejack, kindly. “You are gonna have to go on leave at some point, y’know. Remember when we talked to that nice Cloud Chaser about it?”

“Sure,” said Dash. “Oh and check this out—one of the other signs is starting to happen. I stood on clouds today and I barely sink in at all now! My pegasus magic is definitely ramping up. It’s the weirdest thing. I can kick clouds twice as well as I used to, now, but all I want to do is curl up on them and nap…”

“That’s new,” teased Applejack, nuzzling behind Dash’s ear.

Dash snickered, and admitted, “Yeah, it’s a special talent, all right.”

“Maybe your cutie mark is a cloud to nap on. How’s your tummy? Any better?”

Dash winced. “It’s not fair! I love your fried hay-cakes for breakfast, I’ve always loved that stuff! I used to eat just horrible junk and what you cook is healthy, I know it is!”

“That ain’t the point,” said Applejack, stubbornly. “You can tell your body those things all you like, and it’ll still be strict with you until your foal is born. An’ some types of rain ain’t popular with anypony, darlin’.”

“I told Carrot Top I was sorry,” protested Dash. “Shouldn’t she get over it?”

“Give her time,” said Applejack.

“Anyway, as much as I hate to admit it, having just uncooked alfalfa for breakfast kinda worked. I wasn’t sick at all. Now that I’m home, though, I’d like a big stack of…”

She trailed off, seeing Applejack’s face, and spluttered, “Oh, come on!”

Applejack shook her head. “I reckon you should be stickin’ to the diet that keeps you healthy. No deal, Dashie. I ain’t settin’ you up to be sick. How do you know you’d even get it down?”

“Well, I… yeah. All right, then, you can be stuck on the same diet with me!”

Applejack’s eyes bugged out. “Now see here, I ain’t the one who’s…”

Rainbow Dash hit her with a deadly pout and the big cute eyes, and Applejack blinked rapidly.

“Uh, I, uh… yeah, okay. Sheesh. All right!”

‘Thank you,” said Rainbow. “For the meals we share. Okay?”

“I already said it was, din’t I? What about when I’m on my own? I shouldn’t be sayin’ this, I’ll regret it—but ya lookin’ for moral support there?” Applejack gulped.

Dash shook her head. “No. I ask so much of you already…”

“Aw, it ain’t nothin’, heck if it would help…”

“No! Keep in practice for when I can eat good food again, okay? Rarity told me I should pick my battles, and besides, I have something else to ask of you,” said Dash.

Applejack’s ears quirked sideways anxiously. “Givin’ you good advice, is she?”

Dash nodded. “Her and Twilight are really interested. Trixie, maybe not so much. It’s funny how some ponies are super interested and others don’t want to hear about it.”

“Ain’t too surprisin’ how tight we got with Pinkie an’ Fluttershy. They’re livin’ the same life, jes’ about. I never dreamed it would be that way, they’re like part o’ the family now.”

“Yeah! I think with Twilight, she wants to study everything. Rarity? I don’t know, she’s just taking it so seriously. Fluttershy says she’s a big help to her, as well. Do you think Rarity is living out our pregnancies… vicariously?”

Applejack blinked, and Dash hastened to explain, “That’s what Twilight said, it wasn’t my way of putting it. She means, it’s like Rarity is pregnant through us, without having to be pregnant herself.”

“Sounds convenient,” said Applejack.

Dash laughed. “Yeah, right? She can carry this thing around for a while. Speaking of which…”

“You needed me to do somethin’ for ya?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but…” Dash looked around and then whispered, “Could you rub my wing bases for me?”

Applejack grinned happily. “Ain’t no wrong way to take that…” she said, moving closer.

Rainbow Dash smirked, and whacked her with a forehoof. “Not here! We’d better go inside. But listen—I know what you think and you’re totally right but I meant it. Not just my wings, not pleasure spots, Applejack. I said wing bases. Cloud work was tough ‘cause I’m really heavy now. My wings hurt.”

“Awww! Come on then, I will straighten that out. Uhh… ONLY wing bases, honey?”

Rainbow’s smile was fond and wicked. “Mostly. As long as those cramps melt—I won’t complain about what else you melt. How’s that?”

“Step right this way. Bed’s a-waitin’ and your darling is at your disposal.”

Rainbow did, stretching her wings out wincingly as she walked. Then she folded them, and stepped closer to nuzzle against Applejack and whisper.

“Some pleasures, I still get to have…”

“All of the above, then?”

Rainbow nuzzled against Applejack’s neck. “Mm-hmm.”

“Pegasus-meltin’, it ain’t jes’ a job, it’s a calling,” said Applejack.

Rainbow Dash looked cranky. “Oh, it’ll be a job too. My poor wings!”

“You’ll be sayin’ THAT again by the time I’m done with you,” teased Applejack, and Dash blushed happily and trotted ahead.

Into Sweet Apple Acres without breaking stride, up the stairs, into their bedroom at nearly a canter: Applejack kicked the door shut with a bang, as Rainbow Dash leapt up onto the bed with an automatic burst of wingpower to lift her.

“Fuck! Dammit! Ow!”

“Oh, Dashie!” cried Applejack. “Is it bad?”

“What does it look like?” grimaced Dash, glaring back at her beloved, and then gradually sprawling onto her belly, on the bed.

“I, uh, maybe you shouldn’t do that…”

“ChillAX, Applejack—I asked Granny Smith. She said if I can stand it, the foal can.”

Applejack looked uncertain. “Ya sure? It’s been a while since she was at that rodeo…”

“Just rub my back, please? Look, I’ll do this, how’s this?”

Rainbow Dash got her hind hooves under her, and cerulean rump lifted to poke invitingly in the air, chromatic tail flicking about like a waved flag.

Applejack stared. “Heh. Bribery, now?”

“Oh yeah,” smirked Dash.

Applejack moved in, climbed up onto the bed, loomed over her mischevious pegasus. “First things first, darlin’. Let’s see what we got here.”

Rainbow’s wings were arched up in what would normally appear a joyous, aroused display—and perhaps there was some of that present, for she smelled lively and eager, but the strain in her neck revealed other motivations, and Applejack’s exploring hooves quickly found the culprit. Dash’s wings were cramped up, the muscles at their base tense like rock.

It was a little awe-inspiring. Applejack wondered what a pegasus would make of the experience, as she began to work. Those wing muscles were standing out everywhere, odd bulges and contours alien to an earth pony’s body, but probably capable of dropping a pegasus at twenty paces from just the sight of those rippling, sensuous flight muscles. Applejack put her weight into her work, trying valiantly to get through the tenseness…

“Aw, honey, you’re cryin’?”

“Don’t stop! Don’t you dare ahhh! stop!”

“Heh,” replied Applejack, as she continued her efforts. “You jes’ let me know when you’ve had enough…”

It wasn’t in words that Rainbow Dash sent her message—nor was the message ‘stop’, exactly. Applejack heard Dashie’s squeaks and yelps gradually turn to moans, and felt that pegasus body begin to soften, and Dash’s wings began to flop about more loosely under the kneading hooves, and then to wave in that familiar way, top coverts folded coyly and wing bases lifted, feathers a little ruffled as if to say ‘nibble me’.

Applejack knew this was the most lewd display imaginable—for a pegasus. She glanced at the door (still closed) and the window (nopony watching, thankfully), for she knew that Dashie didn’t react well to being observed at these moments, and though it was adorable to see the supposedly wanton pegasus sex-object blush scarlet and try to hide her face, it wasn’t a game to Dash: to her, wing-play was a touchy subject even before she’d got pregnant by it.

But, since they were private…

Applejack leaned forward, still kneading Rainbow’s wing muscles and back—and licked up the shank of Dash’s right wing.

Rainbow Dash shuddered, and let out an “Ahhh!” as Applejack continued to nuzzle and lick—panted, staring at the wall, waiting—and then, a soft breathy wail seduced its way into the air, for Applejack’s mouth had closed around Dashie’s wingshank, Rainbow’s cue to surrender entirely to her mate’s lovemaking.

Applejack’s eyes were lidded sensuously as she tenderly munched the hard, fluffy limb—it was always kinda amazing what it did to Rainbow when you did that, she thought—like striking her with fuck-lightning or somethin’. She knew that Rainbow had gone scandalously wet, tail flicking madly or twitched to the side, cerulean vulva pouting ecstatically for what a pegasus body knew was the other half of the getting-pregnant equation. Dash hadn’t slacked off on that stuff at all, if anything she seemed to be getting hornier as she went on.

Applejack let go, not wanting to make assumptions. Dash might want oral, or more wing-rubbin’. Pregnant Dashie required more and more careful treatment, lest she fly off the handle, so Applejack risked one possible sort of flying off the handle to guard against misstep. “Sugar—jes’ checkin’, do y’all want dickin’ now?”

Rainbow turned her head and stared in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Do you have any idea, any idea how I feel right now?”

“Naw, that’s why I’m askin’…”

Rainbow Dash squeezed her eyes shut, biting back several harsh, impulsive remarks. “Let’s just say… yes. Since you ask and all. Why yes, I would love some.”

Applejack hesitated no longer. She hopped off of Dash, rushed to the bedside table, opened the drawer and lunged for their magic bit, as Dash watched approvingly, wriggling her bottom and flicking her tail.

“That’s the way! C’mon… yes…”

Applejack jumped back into the bed, grinning around the bit, a magically-induced erection jutting out from under her, and mounted Dash again.

“Yes, yes! Oh gosh Applejack yes…” squealed Rainbow Dash, shuffling her rear hooves against the bedspread, feeling her lover’s body position itself against her…

A cheerful wet noise was masked by a hoarse squeal of obscene delight, as Applejack firmly and lovingly thrust her stallionhood into Dashie’s treasure.

Rainbow gritted her teeth, her ears laid back in savage bliss, pounding her forehoof on the bed. “Ahhh! Yes! Give me! Uhhh!”

Applejack moaned around the bit, and let Dashie have it, hips hungrily working that stiffened shaft within pegasus vag that seemed a molten squeezy pit of slippery pegasus butter. It made no sense and seemed plain impossible, but there was no denying it: pregnancy made Dash hornier, and sex had gotten ridiculously good. Applejack knew from oral sex that Dash’s vagina pouted harder, got juicier, just generally flung itself into things with more abandon—and when it came down to sprouting a magic stallionhood and getting busy with it, the sensations were not to be believed. It wasn’t just textures and heatedness, either, not just the writhings of Dash’s pony rump as the cock slid deep, it wasn’t even the soul-shaking guttural cries of sexual delight… or just possibly it was all of those things… but as Rainbow Dash lost the svelte, athletic figure and filled out into a mother-pegasus, she somehow tapped into a mareliness that hit Applejack like a brick, and made her dizzy with lust and appreciation.

Rainbow panted and wailed, her legs shaking as Applecock plunged joyously into her, and perhaps it was the natural effect of her heightened sexiness, but things had become more explosive, as if pregnant pegasi needed to blow all their corks in a hurry and turn to snuggling quick while they were expecting. Rainbow didn’t know why and didn’t care. Hard-pressed to have any coherent thought, she jolted into a convulsive series of squealing orgasms that clenched onto Applejack’s cock so frantically that her lover, grunting in pleased surprise, unloaded in a volley of spurting throbs that drenched Rainbow’s vagina in temporary, magical stallion-come. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and her legs gave way under her, and she sprawled onto the soft bed, still rocking and jolting in witheringly potent orgasm…

“Uh… uh, hey! Dashie! Y’ mustn’t!”

Rainbow tried to gather her thoughts, though she was one big come-filled glow.

“Git up, please, s’gar!” came Applejack’s voice.

Rainbow blinked, and shook her head a bit, understanding. She’d sagged into a pegasus puddle, and she was lying on her belly. She felt wonderful, and her belly felt wonderful, and her vag oh my gosh, but her beloved didn’t feel wonderful—Applejack was frightened, because she was lying on her belly. It had to be that.

Without hesitating, Rainbow struggled to get conscious control of limbs that felt a thousand miles long and filled with liquid love and cuddles—and master those limbs, limbs that insisted everything was fine, so she could lift herself up and soothe her wonderful mate’s distress. For a moment, she could only squirm, but she fought to get hind-hooves under her—and her pegasus ass lifted, even though Applejack still penetrated her and rendered her body too full of pleasure to move. Dash moved anyway, only because Applejack needed her to.

“Ghhh…” she gasped. “There! It’s okay, baby, it’s okay…”

“Ya sure?” said Applejack, who was awkwardly trying to hold herself above Dash while still snuggling her. “What should I do?”

Rainbow quivered. “Now roll me over… easy, easy… ngghhh!”

As Applejack toppled her over to the left, Rainbow’s legs fell closed, and squeezed the stallionhood even harder. She bucked, kicking weakly, crying out from a few final orgasms, reeling as the weight of her leg bore down and squeezed her intimate places around Applejack’s cock—and then Applejack’s foreleg had shoved a spare pillow down there, and they wedged it between her legs to relieve the pressure.

Rainbow Dash heaved great, shuddery breaths, as Applejack nuzzled her mane and grinned around the bit, that irresistible cowpony glint in her eye.

“Dang, honey, y’all g’t better an’ better. How y’ do that? Is it some pregn’nt thing?”

Rainbow stared at nothing, in a daze, a huge grin on her face and her tongue hanging out. “Hgggg…”

“That a yes?” teased Applejack. “Don’t hold b’ck. How’m I s’posed to know if it were good f’ you?”

At that, Rainbow began to laugh, a deep joyful laugh projected through her scratchy little voice, and she closed her eyes and nestled back against Applejack, who reached out a forehoof and caressed her body in adoration and awe.

And, then, alarm. Rainbow chortled, with a fresh wave of benevolence, but Applejack flinched and spat her bit out, the magical cock slurping out of Dash and disappearing. As she’d fondled Dash’s belly, it had moved. The foal had flipped and kicked, very obviously.

“Oh Dashie, the hell? I keep forgettin’…”

“Mmmm…”

Applejack’s eyes were wide and panicky. “Tell me I din’t bust somethin’, please, Dashie!”

“You didn’t,” crooned Rainbow. “Don’t be silly. I’d know if you did. I don’t break that way, Applejack.”

“But… it kicked!” managed Applejack, with a gulp.

“Settle down,” said Rainbow, dreamily. “You’re not fuckin’ HER.”

“Her?!”

“Her, him, whatever. Spy. Spy’s fine in there.”

Applejack’s ears were back in dismay. “Fine ‘cept for gittin’ beat about th’ head by…”

“It doesn’t reach, you silly stallion-girl,” crooned Dash. “Get used to it.”

Applejack retorted, “Like he—or she—should get used ta being spooged on? It ain’t right!”

Dash wriggled, and looked back over her shoulder at Applejack with a weary, affectionate look. “That doesn’t reach either. And if it did, there’s a thing called a placenta, remember? And that stuff disappears anyway when you drop the bit. Settle down! Everything is wonderful—shared with you.”

Applejack, caught off guard, teared up. “Aw! I’m sorry. I jes’ can’t help but fret about it sometimes. An’ he kicked, I swear it. Or she did—whichever.”

“Which would you rather it should be?” asked Rainbow.

“To be sharin’ a marehood with my frickin’ magic penis?” said Applejack, her ears back. “I reckon either way has a special kinda disturbin’ all its own!”

Rainbow laughed. “Oh, Applejack! Think of it this way, all right? If she—or he—feels half as good as I do right now, I bet it’s doing her good. You’re Spy’s father. Your body is as much a part of her as mine is.”

“Thought you said it was my spirit that makes up part of th’ foal,” objected Applejack.

“Well then, all the more reason to get your body in there too, right? Don’t fuss so much. Talk to Granny Smith—she’s been helping me out a whole lot. How much have you been talking to her?”

“Nothin’,” admitted Applejack. “Feels weird when it ain’t me bein’ pregnant an’ all.”

Dash considered this. “I guess I can see that. She does seem to think it’s funny… but you should talk to her. I have a feeling when it comes to grandchildren, all the rules go out the window.”

“Ah’m a grandchild, remember?”

“So, great-grandchildren then. Just talk to her!”

Applejack sighed. “Will do. I promise. How ya doin’ there, you comfortable? Want another pillow under your hooves?”

Dash flicked an ear, making a face. “Actually—no. I was for like three seconds, now I wanna get up again. Do you mind?”

“Naw. You just tell me whatcha need, and you got it, sugarcube.”

Rainbow leaned back and kissed Applejack, and then began wriggling to get up, and with gentle assistance regained her hooves and walked demurely downstairs, for dinnertime was approaching. They settled Rainbow on the couch, propping her up with pillows, and Applejack began readying dinner, making a pot of tea and trying to do her best with simple hay and salad recipes, for she’d be sharing dinner with her pregnant mate, whose stomach wouldn’t stand more interesting fare.

“Hi, Rainbow Dash! Hi, Applejack!” called Apple Bloom, trotting in the door. “Hah ya doin’?”

“Great, kid!” said Rainbow. “How’s it going with you? How was school?”

“School was good!” said Apple Bloom.

“You learn lots of good things?”

Apple Bloom looked thoughtful. “Pretty much. I wish they taught us more things!”

“Yeah? Like what?” said Rainbow, while Applejack’s eyes widened in alarm and she shook her head subtly.

Apple Bloom perked up. “Like this!” She turned to Applejack, smugly, having had the perfect opening for the long-awaited question. “Applejack, big sister of mine, did you really make a baby foal inside Rainbow Dash?”

Applejack blushed, and she looked away. “Uh… kinda…”

“Meanin’,” said Apple Bloom, “…maybe you din’t a-tall?”

At that, Rainbow Dash’s head snapped up. “She did! Don’t even joke about that. She did, she totally did. It’s true.”

Apple Bloom turned to Dash. “But HOW did she do it?”

“She did it…” began Dash, and then her eyes twinkled. “…well. Very well.”

“You cut that out, ya shameless thing!” protested Applejack, blushing some more. “Anyway, it’s complicated…”

“No,” said Rainbow Dash with unexpected sharpness. “It’s not. It’s not complicated at all. They need to understand that’s your foal. It’s your spirit with mine, honey. To a pegasus that’s the main thing.”

Applejack went misty-eyed. “Awww…” she said, and nuzzled noses with her Dashie, swept up in a tide of sentiment.

The tide didn’t budge Apple Bloom, nor did the sentiment sway her, for the stubborn filly still hadn’t got an answer to her question: only more obfuscation, as far as she was concerned. “Hmph. Y’all hidin’ stuff from me.”

“You jes’ ain’t old enough, squirt,” said her sister gently.

“Oh, and you think you’re so special, makin’ foals and everything! Ya got Granny Smith all payin’ attention to you, and it ain’t fair. An’ you won’t even answer a simple question! If I was makin’ babies I wouldn’t be so stuck up about it!”

Applejack blinked at her little sister. “Your body won’t let you, honey.”

“My SISTER won’t let me, more like…”

“Naw, honest,” said Applejack, “we can tell. You got no idea how this stuff works, it ain’t nothin’ but words to you…”

“All right!” cried Rainbow Dash, in mock indignation. “You want to know how to make foals? I’ll tell you!”

Applejack gasped, but Apple Bloom whirled, instantly attentive. “REALLY?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Dash, fighting off a smirk.

Applejack’s ears laid back, and she shot Dash a warning glance, but there was no restraining the post-coital, bliss-soaked, mischief-loving pegasus. Applejack glowered and went to pour a cup of tea, shaking her head.

“First,” said Dash, “I want you to come here. Put your hoof on my belly, around here, and keep it there for a minute.”

Apple Bloom did, eyes wide, and Dash thought, come on, Spy, do your thing…

“Oooh!” squeaked Apple Bloom. “He kicked!”

Dash nodded. “That’s so you understand—that foal is from me and Applejack. Got it?”

Apple Bloom nodded, awed. “But how…”

“Well if you hush up maybe I’d get a chance to tell you! Now listen close. First, part A, you need an earth pony…”

“Ah’m an earth pony!” said Apple Bloom, excitedly.

“I mean a big pony,” said Dash, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Applejack glared, but Apple Bloom was irrepressible.

“I am so a big pony! Granny Smith said so!”

“Well, all right then!” said Dash. “Then, part B, you need a pegasus…”

“Scootaloo is a pegasus!” said Apple Bloom. Applejack’s expression soured further.

Dash tried desperately to fight off her smirk. “Now remember this is important, part C is you need a lot of love…”

“Ain’t nopony has more love than us!” insisted Apple Bloom. “We’re jes’ filthy with it!”

“Oh, that’s parts F through W,” said Rainbow Dash, as Applejack’s eyes widened in shock. “Especially part P, which is a Penis…”

Applejack had had enough. “Now see here!”

“Keep tellin’ me!” begged Apple Bloom, glancing in alarm at her big sister.

“Don’t you dare, Dashie!” demanded Applejack, but there was no stopping Rainbow.

“So you have parts A and B and lots of C, right?”

“Yeah!” cried Apple Bloom. Rainbow Dash took a deep breath, as Applejack prepared to unleash a storm of objections.

“Then you insert Part A into Part B so you can C what your V J can do for U! It’s easy when you know how!”

“Rainbow Dash!” yelled Applejack, but it was no good—Dash had burst into hysterical laughter, and Apple Bloom was bouncing up and down with excitement.

“Ya promise it’s true? Ya promise?” she squeaked.

“You know it’s true!” laughed Dash, as Applejack fumed.

“Consarned troublemaker pegasuses,” snarled Applejack, and took a big gulp of tea—at the worst possible moment.

“Cutie Mark Crusader Baby Makers! YAY!”

Applejack sprayed tea across the room, and Dash shrieked with laughter and fell off the couch.

There was a moment of total confusion where Applejack wasn’t sure whether to rescue Dashie or give her a smack, and by the time she’d rushed over and begun lifting her pregnant mate back onto the couch, Apple Bloom had rushed off. Applejack yelled after her departing sister, “Apple Bloom, you git back here this instant!” but it was no use—her little hooves could be heard galloping away, and they seemed to fade into the distance beyond hope of shouting.

“Dammit, Dashie!”

“Oh my gosh, can you believe it?” spluttered Dash. “Epic!”

“Ya can’t say shit like that! Rainbow!”

“Aw, come on!” pleaded Dash. “That was nothing she didn’t know before. I heard Granny Smith telling her to go watch the farm animals. And I didn’t tell her a thing about wings, and it totally wouldn’t work for them anyway! Calm down. I was just having fun! I’m sorry…”

Applejack gritted her teeth, and took a deep breath. “Y’all havin’ fun with my little sister!”

“Um,” said Dash. “I guess, yeah. I’m extra sorry?”

“Ya should be. Heh! Where th’ hell did you get all them letters, anyway?”

Rainbow hung her head. “It just came to me. It was a joke. I’m extra triple sorry. With nuts.” She looked mournful, but couldn’t repress a giggle.

Applejack, in turn, couldn’t repress a smirk. “Hah. You are nuts. Crazy pegasus.”

“Yeah but I’m YOUR nuts.”

“Impossible, my nuts come outta this magic toy we got hid in my dresser drawer.” Applejack blinked. “Exceptin’ they don’t. How come that thing don’t make nuts? It makes a penis, don’t it?”

“Beats me. Why the gasp? I don’t see how it matters one way or the other. Not for how we use it. Unless you want to get kicked in them?” said Dash.

“No, sir. I seen what it do to th’ stallions. And whaddya mean, gasp? I din’t gasp!”

Rainbow Dash looked earnestly at Applejack. “Seriously, though—don’t worry about the kids. Not one of that bunch is hitting puberty and they aren’t hanging around with colts. I’m sorry I made a joke out of it, but you shouldn’t make it out to be a big secret either. All that does is make them more curious…”

Applejack hung her head. “Mebbe so. I din’t mean to yell at you, darlin’. I jes’ love my lil’ sis a whole bunch and don’t want nothin’ bad to happen to her.”

Rainbow Dash put out a hoof to stroke Applejack’s neck. “Get her a pegasus doll or something. Let her pretend she’s a mommy. It’s cute.”

“Not as cute as you really being one…” said Applejack, softly, and they kissed, Dash’s eyes closing trustingly.

Just outside the door, Apple Bloom stopped eavesdropping, and slunk away in complete silence. Once her hooves reached soft grass, she began to trot, then gallop, toward the clubhouse.

On the way, she passed Lyra returning home very late, but Apple Bloom had been rebuffed by Lyra once already, and didn’t give her a second thought.

Lyra trotted up to Bon Bon’s doorstep, already planning what to say.

She wasn’t the only one. Bon Bon stood in the doorway—and didn’t move aside.

“This is not gonna be easy, Lyra,” she said.

“What? Sweet-treat, what is this?”

In answer, Bon Bon turned aside, picking up a basket, setting it down in front of Lyra. It was full of bits, high denomination bits—and, on top of the pile, there was one more bit.

The magic one.

“Please go. I can’t take it anymore. It’s not just that it hurts me—you’re hurting yourself, and I can’t be around for that. This is your full equity in the house. That should set you up somewhere… that isn’t here.”

Lyra looked down at the basket, and then looked up again, eyes full of hurt and shock.

“Why?”

“I won’t say it was easy,” said Bon Bon resignedly.

Lyra stared, frozen. She bit her lip, kicked a forehoof. Bon Bon didn’t budge.

“You found another pony, didn’t you?” said Lyra. “Like you found me.”

“I think you should leave,” said Bon Bon, bowing her head.

“You found another unicorn filly,” hissed Lyra. “I got too old and I wouldn’t do what you want, and you’re ditching me, just like that. You found somepony younger. Didn’t you?”

“This isn’t the time to…”

“DIDN’T YOU?” screamed Lyra.

A shape moved behind Bon Bon. A voice spoke, and Lyra froze again, shaking her head in horrified disbelief.

“Younger than her, it’s true—though you might not believe it,” came the voice, the very familiar voice. “Not, however, younger than you.”

From the shadows, Mayor Mare walked up to stand beside Bon Bon, fixing Lyra with a stern look.

“In fairness to you, Miss Lyra, the manipulation of your work hours shall cease immediately. It is very much up to you whether you feel you can continue, though I shall have to watch carefully for signs of revenge. That will not do…”

Lyra struggled for words. “It… you… if you think for a moment that I would lower myself so far to continue to work for your filthy, flathead, treacherous…”

“I see,” said Mayor Mare, unimpressed. “In that case, I can only say that it’s as well we stopped this when we did. You are perfectly correct that we have been less than honest with you—it grew out of the larger, untenable situation. We’ll say that you left at your own request through no fault of your own—no work fault, at any rate.”

Mayor Mare’s eyes narrowed at that last remark, suggesting that she found fault with Lyra’s personal life, if not her work life.

Lyra was speechless, as Mayor Mare turned to the side, picked up another basket from behind the door, and placed it before her.

“That’s how sure I was that you’d blame everypony but yourself,” said the Mayor. “There is your severance pay, plus I’ve included double overtime for every single hour you spent chasing numbers I knew wouldn’t add up. That was beneath me, Miss Lyra, but now it’s over. To be honest, I should have confronted you before this, but Bon Bon wouldn’t let me.”

Lyra stared helplessly. Not at Mayor Mare—not at the alarming politician mare, who had never been vague about figures after all, who concealed an inconvenient youth by dying her mane and tail grey, who had slipped in and formed a bond where none could be allowed to exist. Not at her.

Lyra stared at Bon Bon, whose gaze back was tragic, somehow pitying, strangely resolute.

“Take care of yourself, Lyra,” said Bon Bon.

Suddenly, Lyra was filled with rage like never before. “Don’t you mean H…”

She stopped, because the instant Bon Bon saw the direction that sentence was going—the instant she saw that Lyra was about to fling that pet name, ‘Heartstrings’ in her face—Bon Bon’s anger flared up to match her own. Lyra had never seen it that bad. It took her a moment to work out what Bon Bon meant, why the glare had stopped her—and then Bon Bon confirmed it.

Bon Bon swallowed some of the rage, and spoke carefully. “Don’t you dare say that name in front of Mayor Mare, when I’m giving you the courtesy of not telling her about it.”

Mayor Mare drew herself up, not pompously but sternly.

“You should leave, Miss Lyra. That money would keep you in a hotel for a year—you shouldn’t spend it that way but it’s yours so do what you will with it.”

Bon Bon was shaking her head, bitterly.

“Goodbye, Lyra. You weren’t observant outside your figures and numbers, but you’ve got a real gift for those. Be well.”

She nudged Mayor Mare back, and the Mayor dipped her head, stepped back out of the doorway. Bon Bon stepped back as well, swinging the door closed. For an instant, Lyra was filled with a vision of herself charging forward, savagely striking at both older mares with flailing forehooves…

The door clicked shut.

The bolt slid home.

When Lyra finally turned to walk, dazed, into town, with her money and her magic-bit toy, she was still too shocked and hurt to shed a tear.

Beatmatching

Lyra felt illicit, as she walked toward the park, kicking autumn leaves up with her dainty hooves.

No longer was she ‘the green unicorn with that cream-colored earth pony’. It felt like her very identity was stripped away and replaced with another, secret one—an identity that hadn’t been tested on Ponyville, an identity of significance and mystery, revealed only to suitable ponies.

Or, rather, revealed to only that one pony, among all the thoughtless, insignificant ponies that milled around waiting for the Nightmare Night celebrations.

Or, perhaps, to no pony at all?

Lyra slowed to a stop, her eyes tragic, looking out at the crowds of pegasi and unicorns and flatheads. Surely it was ridiculous optimism even to hope?

She wore a trim little saddlebag she’d found, that seemed to suit her perfectly. It had been expensive, but nothing compared to her new affluence, and she stood with even her uncertainty transformed to gracefulness by the elegant lines of the single bag, worn on her left, slate-grey with accents in warm brown and russet red. The coolness of the grey set off the color of her slim body until it seemed to glow, and the accents vibrated excitingly against her vivid spring-green.

It was a small bag, very much high fashion rather than practicality, but it had only one job—a romantic and beautiful job, but one that suddenly froze Lyra with embarrassment until she wished she could hide herself or her too-stylish carrier.

The bag held only a few high-denomination bits—and the one with the highest value of all.

Lyra proposed to carry her magic bit to the future unicorn mare of her dreams, and be swept away unto a world of passion and amazing sex. Unfortunately, she had only carried it into Ponyville, and no dreams presented themselves: just the townsfolk.

For a moment, she was seized with the desire to whirl and flee, hiding herself from their judgement—then she tensed, setting her delicate jaw. They knew nothing, they saw nothing, and anyhow where was the harm in it? If she wished to seek out that magical, fantasy mare to bring love and acceptance to her tottering life, that was her affair.

And Nightmare Night surely was the time to do it. Ponies from all over came to town, for this was where Nightmare Moon would appear—technically, not Nightmare Moon, but Princess Luna. There had been some talk about Luna having committed some crime or other, suffering a punishment that was waived for the night’s festivities—Lyra hadn’t been paying attention. The important thing was, there would be strangers all over town, perhaps including her mysterious mare.

Three unicorns trotted down the street in front of her, chatting merrily—Lyra recognized them at once. Twilight Sparkle, the Great and Powerful Trixie, Rarity the fashionista… Lyra stepped back a pace, biting her lip. It seemed the town was full of important ponies. She felt outclassed, upstaged. Timidly, Lyra hurried after the three celebrities, toward the fairgrounds. If she could blend in with the crowd, perhaps she could strike up a conversation with a suitable pony. Some distance behind her, a kid on a scooter frowned, squinted, and set off in the same direction.

She followed the three celebrities around the corner of a house—and froze.

They hadn’t seen her. It was good that they hadn’t seen her, because she felt her face forming into a rictus of horror and dismay. Twilight’s mouth was open, forming words of greeting as Trixie and Rarity smiled to either side of her—all three facing Mayor Mare and Bon Bon, standing close together and looking well, if rather Nightmare Night-y.

Mayor Mare’s face was made up in a sickly green, like a zombie-pony, with bits of tape pulling her lip and one lower eyelid out of trim to heighten the effect. It didn’t seem to lessen her air of command. The green makeup clashed violently with her mane, which was a very aggressive, violent, youthful pink that Lyra somehow knew was no wig, but her natural mane color. Her tail matched it, and the Mayor flicked it ebulliently. By her side, Bon Bon wore bolts on her neck, her face pale, her mane and tail dyed black with a shocking white streak through it.

Lyra couldn’t wrest her eyes from Bon Bon’s happy, unworried smile—something she’d not seen in years, not like that. They hadn’t seen her. She wished with all her heart she’d not seen them. If she backed quietly away…

Wheels rattled behind her.

“Miss Lyra!”

Five heads turned her direction.

Lyra screamed and ran, almost trampling the little pegasus pony on the scooter, who cursed even as the Mayor said “Let her go!” warningly.

“Hey! Hey, I just wanted to… fine, you want to play speed? You picked the wrong pony this time!” cried Scootaloo.

Lyra ran on, but as her limbs flailed with haste, she heard a sound. With a whir of tiny wings and a rattle of wheels, the tyke pulled up beside her, glaring at her even while rocketing along at an adult gallop.

“Getting tired?”

Lyra’s eyes were wide and panicky, but then she mastered her feelings and clattered to a halt, panting. Scootaloo skidded to an insouciant stop beside her, still staring her right in the eye.

“What… the HELL… do you want?” demanded Lyra, her sides heaving.

“My friend had some questions for you,” said Scootaloo. “Because everybody knows you like mares, and we’re trying to figure out how Applejack got Rainbow Dash pregnant when they’re both mares. Except now I have other questions, too, such as why the heck are you running away from Bon Bon for a change, when that’s the whole reason we know you like mares?”

Lyra’s head sagged. “Fuck you…”

“Yeah, apparently you could! Except when farm animals do it, there’s a dude animal, with a penis and stuff. Apple Bloom showed us. We had to get away on my scooter, ‘cos that pig was really mad.”

“No, I mean leave me alone…” said Lyra, despairingly, beginning to tear up.

“No way! Now, Apple Bloom said Applejack has a penis toy, but then she went back on it and said she never said nothin’. Me and Sweetie Belle think she just hasn’t got the guts to go and search Applejack’s dresser drawer, and she got real mad at us so we don’t bring it up anymore. She’s a real goody-four-hooves sometimes. But Sweetie says she’s heard of penis toys and even saw one in Rarity’s closet once, but the thing is they’re carved out of wood and couldn’t make anypony be pregnant…”

“Horrible things,” hissed Lyra, wavering between rage and grief.

“So you do know about that stuff! Well, I’m faster than you, so you better answer my questions. Why are you running away from Bon Bon, first of all?”

“Because…” stammered Lyra—and then collapsed to the ground, and burst into noisy, wailing tears.

She cried for a while, and then felt the unexpected touch of a little childish hoof, wiping her tears away.

“Hey, uh… I’m sorry, okay? Is something bothering you? You’re crying, like, really hard and stuff. I feel like that sometimes. I’m sorry if I made you feel bad.”

Lyra blinked more tears away. “Are you for real, kid?”

“I’m Scootaloo! I’m totally real. Would it help if I said I’m sorry, again?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then what would?” said Scootaloo. “I just made you cry, lots. I can make little kids cry any day of the week but you’re a grown-up and grown-ups don’t cry, so what the hell?”

Lyra grimaced. “Oh, yes they do. It’s all the stuff you’re asking about, that’s what makes grown-ups cry.”

Scootaloo’s expression became intent. “Really! Tell me more.”

“Love hurts,” sniffled Lyra. “It stabs you and betrays you and then doesn’t even have the decency to pull out cleanly. It’s got hooks on it, and when it stabs into you, it rips your heart up, hurts much worse coming out. And it always comes out, too. They’re doomed! She’s got her wrapped around her hoof and if she thinks she can do better than me even once she came around, she shouldn’t have turned to her for her little schemes…”

Scootaloo glowered worse, confused completely by the rush of pronouns. “What the heck are you talking about, Miss Lyra?”

Lyra heaved a great, forlorn sigh. “I’m talking about love, Scootaloo. Exactly what you wanted me to tell you about. Right? Maybe you’ll let me go off and die somewhere if I tell you the truth.”

“Whoa! What’s the matter with you? What are you even talking about, die?”

Lyra pulled herself together a little. “Maybe that gives you some idea. I won’t, okay? Don’t freak out, I was just running my mouth. But love will do that to you. You’re lucky you still have your innocence.”

“You aren’t answering many of my questions,” said Scootaloo. “You’re making it sound awful.”

“Oh, really! He isn’t as dumb as he looks,” grumbled Lyra, rolling her eyes.

“I’m a girl, dude,” objected Scootaloo. “And you’re dodging. It doesn’t seem like it’s awful all the time. Maybe it’s just you!”

Lyra reared up, ready to curse out the exasperating filly, but then sagged. “You’re right. It isn’t. Maybe it is just me—but it can’t be, because I w… I wanted to go find more. Tonight.”

“So what’s stoppin’ you?” demanded Scootaloo.

“You are,” said Lyra. “But also, I fucking hate myself right now, and I’m horrible.”

Scootaloo’s brow was knitted in furious bafflement as she tried to follow the emotional tailspins. “That’s totally stupid. Nobody had a problem with you before, besides you’re really pretty. Why shouldn’t you go find love, even if you’re awful? I’m totally friggin’ awful sometimes. If you think I shouldn’t have love because of that, my Mom will kick your ass!”

“No, no!” protested Lyra, cowering back a little. “You should have love! Maybe not the same kind. I’m not saying what you think I’m saying. When you grow up, you should have all kinds of love, too!”

“Fine,” said Scootaloo. “So why not you?”

Lyra looked at her out of tear-streaked eyes, and didn’t speak for a moment. Then, she said, “Thank you. You’re right. Thank you.”

“So…” said Scootaloo, “you’re gonna go back out there, and stop crying, and find some love? With mares?”

Lyra nodded, and rose to her hooves—but the kid with the scooter zipped around in front of her with a blur of tiny wings and a kick of the hoof.

“Good! So tell me exactly what you’re gonna do to ‘em. You owe me, now!”

Lyra stared. Scootaloo flapped her little wings, her eyes fiercely determined.

“Seriously, kid? You want to know that?”

“You heard me.”

“What are you gonna do with that kind of information?” said Lyra.

“We’re gonna make babies.”

Lyra laughed. “No, you’re not. You’re telling me you hit puberty? What did you do, bounce? You can’t. Your body won’t do it.”

“Well then,” said Scootaloo, “you have no reason not to tell me. Right?”

They stared at each other for a minute.

“You’re crazy, kid. Fine. If I tell you, will you let me go?”

“Yeah.”

“All right,” said Lyra. “You’re right, wooden penises don’t make babies. They’re called dildos—you’ll probably find that a useful insult soon, if you’re not using it already. Lesbians—that’s mares getting with mares, like you said—use those. What you don’t know about is the new magical toys, and yes, Applejack and Rainbow Dash would have one. Same with me, same with Twilight and Trixie and I guess Rarity, same with Fluttershy probably if Twilight gave one to me… Pinkie wouldn’t be interested, I guess…” She trailed off.

“So, Applejack has this thing you’re talking about, and it gave Rainbow Dash her foal?” challenged Scootaloo.

“Hang on. I forgot something,” said Lyra. “That makes no sense at all, because the bits, you don’t get pregnant from them. As far as I know, you don’t. We never did.”

“What bits?”

“The magic bits,” said Lyra, “I just told you. I’m guessing it must have something to do with it, but then why would it do that for them and not affect us? I don’t think Twilight’s pregnant either. I never thought of it that way, I was thinking magic dildo the whole time… though it does ejaculate…”

“Okay, so which magic bits are we talking about? How does that work?”

Lyra blinked. Her horn glowed, and the bit lifted out of her trim little saddlebag. “Like this. This is one of the magic bits. You bite on it, and that’s where the penis comes from.”

“What, out of your mouth?” squawked Scootaloo, outraged.

“No! The usual place—if you were a guy, I mean.”

“Show me!” demanded Scootaloo.

Lyra’s jaw dropped. She glanced around. “No way! No way, kid!”

“Aw! But…”

Hearing the childish tone, Lyra grew fiercer. “I shouldn’t even have told you that much!” She returned the bit to her bag, and narrowed her eyes at the sulking filly. “Any more questions? Appropriate questions?”

“Uh,” said Scootaloo, “is it true you stick the penis in her pee-hole to do it?”

“Yes,” confirmed Lyra. “That part is true.”

“Is it skinny and twisty like with the pigs?”

Lyra’s jaw dropped again. “Ew! No way, kid! It’s a lot bigger. A lot a lot bigger.”

“So how bad does it hurt, then?”

“What? It feels fucking awesome, kid. You’ll learn—when the time comes.”

Scootaloo tried to keep up. “Uhhh… like… so awesome that it’s worth how horrible love was, for you? You’re confusing me!”

Lyra looked her in the eye. “You know what? I need you to get out of my way. I gotta go do grown-up things. I have you to thank for the pep-talk, but your part in this ends right now. And yeah, so awesome that I’ll just about kick a hole in a wall now to get some of that action. I’m carrying this thing around, and I mean to use it—well, have it used, on me—and it better be a lot thicker than some pig dick, kid! One day you will understand, I swear. And I don’t know quite how Rainbow Dash got pregnant from it—but I’ll tell you something, that mare is maybe even hornier than me, so maybe you should ask her!”

Scootaloo seemed to have been jolted by the suggestion that Rainbow Dash, too, was intimately familiar with this strange grown-up fixation on thick penis up the vag. It was like she’d not put two and two together, like she’d not pictured Rainbow in quite that way, even though Dash was pregnant. Scootaloo’s face showed fastidious horror.

Lyra seized the moment. “One side, kid! Thick throbbing unicorn stallionhood awaits!”

While Scootaloo gagged as she added ‘throbbing’ to the list of adjectives describing baby-makers, Lyra stalked past, nose in the air. Behind her, tiny wings whirred as the filly raced off to share notes with her companions, but Lyra didn’t pay any attention, for she was on a mission. The kid was right. Why shouldn’t she go find love? What was stopping her? Absolutely nothing.

Lyra’s mood swung, as it so often did, and when it was done swinging, it had landed on ‘golden-eyed luminous mare’, for that was what Lyra felt herself to be. She trotted forward, steps high and bouncy, and broke into a canter for she was almost late—Nightmare Moon’s appearance would be at any moment, and she didn’t want to miss anything. She felt like she could bound up high over the other ponies and see everything she wished. The crowds buoyed her, where before they’d intimidated her.

As thunder rolled, Lyra broke into an effortless gallop, hooves flying, racing up behind the largest crowd and bounding into the air behind them, trying to see. The bat-winged Nightmare Night guard flew out of the darkened clouds, and there behind them was Nightmare Moon—or, rather, Princess Luna, as all the adults knew full well. Somewhat behind her flew Princess Celestia, looking solemn. Lyra squealed shrilly as Luna drew nearer, her alicorn wings solemnly beating the air, her stare raking the gathered ponies with glowering, mock hostility.

“HAST THOU BROUGHT THINE OFFERINGS?” declaimed Princess Luna, her head held high.

Lyra bounded and squealed again, drawing cranky looks from nearby ponies. Twilight was nearby, too, and smiled instead, as did Rarity—Trixie seemed to have absented herself.

As Lyra’s head popped up over the edge of the crowd, wearing its mad grin of glee, it drew Princess Luna’s attention, and Luna saw her—and saw who she was standing near—and who was not seen standing with them.

Lyra’s eyes widened, and her heart leapt into her throat, for the dark alicorn Princess had shot a look her direction—seemingly just for her. Just for a moment, Luna’s eyes held a terrible sadness and yearning, an unbearable loneliness that struck Lyra like a physical blow. It was only for an instant, but Lyra’s manic state was so intense that she felt as if she’d gazed into Luna’s eyes for half an hour, and Lyra reeled, barely landing on her hooves, staggering.

“Whoa!” said Twilight Sparkle. “Are you okay there? Did you twist a hoof?”

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” said Lyra hastily, and hopped up again, eyes wide. Luna was speaking more quietly, greeting children as they made offerings of candy to her.

“Oh, careful, darling!” said Rarity, reprovingly. “You are kicking up dirt and clods of muck!”

Lyra didn’t listen, and Rarity trotted off to the side, grumbling. Luna, in the middle of the crowd, was lifting her head, though this time she wouldn’t look their direction…

“IT IS WELL! FAREWELL, GOOD PONIES!”

The Princess took to her wings, her horn glowing as she made some more thunderclaps that drowned out the loud cheers of the assembled ponies. Lyra gawked, astonished. “But, but…”

“Is there a problem?” said Twilight Sparkle.

“Why is she leaving?” said Lyra. Princess Celestia was accompanying her off into the sky. Lyra saw the bright alicorn nuzzle the dark one, comfortingly. The guards took up the rear, and soon they were lost to sight in the rumbling clouds.

“It was explained, Lyra,” said Twilight. “Didn’t you even pay attention to the cover story? I mean, the one for the kids. Princess Luna is obliged to be elsewhere. She can only show up for her ceremonial appearance—it can’t be like last year.”

“Will Princess Celestia come back, at least?”

“Just a moment,” said Twilight, looking distracted. “Oh, there you are!”

Lyra squeaked and hopped aside, for Trixie had suddenly reappeared, walking up quietly without a word of greeting.

Twilight capered, briefly, and Lyra’s heart caught in her throat a second time, seeing the lovely unicorn mare so happy. “Tonight’s going to be so much fun! We’ll make the rounds, and later if we haven’t got other plans we can go over to Pinkie’s for her big extravaganza…”

Rarity wasn’t sharing her delight. She was gazing at Trixie with obvious concern, though Lyra couldn’t work out why. The Great and Powerful mage-mare wasn’t smiling, true, but her expression didn’t seem that worried…

“Honey?” said Rarity gently. “Are you okay?”

Twilight blinked. “That’s not part of the arrangement! You’re supposed to say Mistress! Though maybe since we’re out in public…” She looked back and forth between Rarity and Trixie. “Okay. What am I missing?”

Trixie held Rarity’s gaze, heedless of the curiosity of Twilight and Lyra. Then, she nodded.

“I’ll be all right. Thank you, Rarity.”

“I’m gonna pull a ‘Mistress’ in a moment,” said Twilight. “Something’s wrong? Is it…”

Rarity shushed her, which seemed to come as a shock to Twilight, and explained, gently. “Darling Twilight… some things take precedence. Trixie wished to avoid being seen by our moon Princess, in part to spare her distress. You know—a reminder of what Princess Luna shall not have. Remember?”

“Yeah, I get that,” said Twilight, “but…”

Rarity cut her off. “I shan’t beat this into the ground, for Mistress’s sake, so listen. Princess Luna is being punished for a reason. She has betrayed Trixie’s, and our, trust. She has done things to Trixie we shan’t speak of here. You know what I mean, Twilight. Is it so difficult to understand that Mistress might not wish to see her, or be around her—for other reasons?”

Trixie didn’t change her expression as Twilight, wide-eyed, studied her.

“Is this true? Oh, Trixie!” said Twilight. “Was it wrong to ask you to come here? Do you need to go somewhere that you feel safe? Do you…”

“Trixie,” said Trixie angrily, “wishes you to settle down!”

Twilight sat back on her haunches. Her lip quivered.

Lyra watched the Great and Powerful Trixie see this—and watched her expression crumble, watched Trixie begin to blubber, her shell cracked by the sight of Twilight Sparkle’s innocent dismay.

“Mistress! Trixie is sorry! Trixie didn’t mean to hurt you, Trixie was trying not to ruin the party!”

They’d embraced, Rarity looking on with affectionate concern. Lyra blinked, trying to figure out what the ‘Mistress’ stuff was about, and who counted as Mistress. The only one who hadn’t been addressed as ‘Mistress’ thus far seemed to be Rarity, and in some ways she seemed to deserve it most.

As if sensing Lyra’s thoughts, Rarity looked over at her, with a warning glance. Lyra stepped back a pace. It seemed to be an unexpectedly private moment, in the middle of a crowded street at the height of Nightmare Night—or perhaps just the beginning. Lyra was used to a more subdued lifestyle, but there had been hints that the celebrations continued long after the foals were put to bed—and long after Lyra would have retired with Bon Bon, in better days, to their bed.

Twilight was petting Trixie’s mane, fondling her neck heedlessly. It rather turned Lyra on, seeing that sort of emotional nakedness and intimacy. Her life with Bon Bon had always been more reserved. She felt her awareness ramp up again, watching the two lovely unicorn mares caress each other, her eyes widening, her nerves’ hyped-up state causing her skin to tingle. Rarity glanced at her again, eyes slightly narrowed, uncertain. Lyra had a sudden sense that she wasn’t the only one whose heart pounded, whose nerves jangled.

Twilight lifted her head, and gave a deep sigh. “Oh, Rarity, what would we do without your wisdom?” Then, she blinked. “But… it’s great that you understood how Trixie was really hurt because her trust was betrayed, but how do YOU know about all this?”

“Oh!” said Rarity, but she didn’t speak to Twilight at all. “Forgive us, Lyra, dear! I am sure we did not mean to drag out all manner of personal matters, right here in the middle of the street! You are not offended, I trust?”

Lyra squeaked as all three ponies suddenly looked at her. “Eep! No, no, it’s okay, nothing wrong with that…”

Rarity’s eyes showed great wariness. “One would not think it wrong, surely. But perhaps we had better… retire to some more appropriate spot?”

Trixie sniffled. “Trixie wishes her girl to fix her make-up!”

At that, Rarity stood bolt upright. “Of course, Mistress! At once! If you will excuse us, Miss Lyra…”

The three bustled off, leaving Lyra standing in the middle of the street, staring after them. Another unicorn pony, trotting by with a determined, busy look, stopped to stare as well.

“What happened there?” she said.

Lyra blinked. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re a unicorn. You busy? How’s your levitation, cutie?”

Lyra gaped at her. She was worth gaping at—a pert little unicorn mare, white with striped blue mane, a big musical note on her rump, and shockingly big rose-colored sunglasses, even though it was night.

“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, nothing—just if you could help carry my decks? I’ll get you in to my set for free. I’ll tell ‘em you’re my roadie. How about it? It’s more comfortable with help, juggling all those separate pieces of gear. And if it’s a unicorn, no hoof-prints! I keep ‘em real shiny, ‘cos they’re my decks, you know?”

“You want help carrying… a desk?” said Lyra.

“Decks!” said the unicorn, laughing. “I’m Vinyl Scratch! You know—DJ Pon-3? I have a gig, I’m playing Pinkie’s Midnight Sugar party tonight! It’d be a help if I don’t have to strain myself before I play. C’mon, didn’t I tell you? Free tickets, you can see me play and not have to pay…”

Lyra was trying to keep up. “Is it going to be a good party?”

“That’s my job,” said Vinyl Scratch, smugly.

“Sure, okay,” said Lyra, and trotted to catch up, for the pert little unicorn had promptly resumed her determined progress at the first hint of agreement. “Whoa! You’re in a big hurry, huh?”

“Gotta be prepared! So you can focus! That’s how you seriously lay it down!”

Lyra struggled to keep up. Vinyl was small, but her trot was bouncy and covered a lot of ground, and Lyra wondered if she’d run across somepony who got even more manic than she did. “I don’t get it. I’m glad to help, but aren’t you really just playing records?”

She stopped. Vinyl had frozen, outraged, in the middle of the street.

“Yeah,” she said, “and dancing is just standing on one hoof, right? What the fuck?”

“No offense,” said Lyra, hastily.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I guess I AM offended,” said Vinyl, trembling. “Fuck! What the fuck kind of thing is that to say to somepony about to play a major gig? What do you… what?”

“I’m sorry!” protested Lyra. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“Have you never danced?” said DJ Pon-3 in disbelief. “Have you never partied?”

“I guess… no?”

Vinyl’s jaw dropped.

“Okay. You are coming with me, uh…”

“Lyra!” said Lyra.

“You’re coming with me, Lyra. Even if you don’t want to roadie. I’m gonna get you into Midnight Sugar if I have to pay your way…”

“I have plenty of money!” said Lyra.

Vinyl lowered her glasses and peered at Lyra over them. Her eyes were wonderful, pools of burgundy that Lyra lost herself in immediately. “If you’ve never danced, you’re not spending it on the right things. Again, even if I have to pay your way, you’re coming to Midnight Sugar, and I’m going to show you what you’ll do for the rest of your life.”

Lyra just stared, entranced, at the little mare’s rakish confidence.

“And, while we walk, let me tell you just what it is I do. ‘Cos I want you to understand, Lyra. You have no idea what you’re in for, tonight.”

Lyra gulped, heart pounding.

“Coming?” said DJ Pon-3.

“Nearly!” breathed Lyra.

Vinyl laughed raucously, and set off again, and Lyra scampered along behind her, stumbling over her own hooves in her dizziness.

“Yeah, I’m not even sure how I can explain it to you, babe!” said Scratch, trotting fiercely along. “I’m gonna try, though, because it’s like summoning demons, you know? Nice demons, that is. Tame ones. Uhhh… semi tame? I gotta unleash the beast tonight, it’s a Pinkie joint. She’ll pay top dollar but she knows her shit and I gotta be sharp, know what I’m sayin’?”

“Please, tell me more!” said Lyra, as they arrived at a small, run-down cottage.

Inside, it was odd. Some rooms were bare and pristine, others were full of clutter. Vinyl dove into one of the cluttered rooms, and Lyra followed. ‘Decks’ turned out to be gleaming turntables. “I had my records moved over there this afternoon. That’s also why we gotta tear ass, Lyra, if they fucked that up I have to have time to bring in back-up. You got it?”

Lyra’s horn glowed, and she lifted a turntable. “Yes!”

Vinyl looked over the top of her sunglasses again, and Lyra quivered at those burgundy eyes.

“AND the cables, sweetie. Don’t let them dangle. You don’t want them catching on anything.”

Blushing, Lyra gathered the dangling cables up with more levitation magic, and awaited further instructions. “Now we tear ass?”

Vinyl had another turntable, and a mixer. “No, now we walk calmly over to Sugarcube Corner while I tell you about my greatest gig. We do not run while carrying decks. Got it? We tear ass to get here, and now that we have the decks we don’t hang around or make detours, but go carefully.”

“I’ll go any way you want!” said Lyra, and blushed worse.

Vinyl snickered. “You’ll do. Follow me.”

She set off, flicking her pretty tail in front of Lyra’s nose, and Lyra followed as if hypnotized.

“I had things hoppin’ pretty good. You know you can’t just hit ‘em with 144 BPM, right? You have to read the crowd, their energy level, their mood. You feed off of that. Well, this time, you might say that not only did I feed off them, they fed off me… especially this ONE dude…”

Lyra stumbled. “D… dude?”

Vinyl smirked at her. “Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had all kinds of fun. But I have a crazy dream… I always wanted to fuck that one Wonderbolt. You know? Soarin’. Oh my GAWWWD he gets me so wet…”

Lyra’s eyes were wide. Vinyl wasn’t lying. Even talking about it, DJ Pon-3 was glistening a little, her possibly-forbidden-possibly-not marehood showing signs of interest.

“So you can understand if I got a weakness for sexy pegasus stallions, right? I can imagine… well, I’m pumping the crowd up, and I’m gettin’ into it, right? I’m swayin’ my hips, stompin’ a hoof, my tail’s goin’ like mad and I have my eye on this one dude. He’s fuckin’ hot. His wings are up, and he rears up and I get a look at his sheath and dude! Turgid, know what I’m sayin’? I can’t believe it. It inspires me to throw an even sexier track down, even though it’s a tempo drop and I gotta unwind it, but I pull off the transition and man, the place follows it, they start grindin’ on each other, it’s a thing of beauty…”

Lyra followed, listening closely, but dropping back to sneak peeks at Vinyl’s marehood, behind her twitching tail. The DJ was very into her story, and it showed, and to Lyra that too was a thing of beauty.

“Hey, keep up! Not interesting? Well, get THIS. The next thing you know, he’s flying! He’s jumped up and he’s in the air, coming right at me, and then he’s landed and he’s on me while I play, he’s fondling my body, totally feeling me up. On stage!”

Lyra gasped. “Can they do that?”

“This was Fillydelphia. Say no more, right? So I’m keepin’ the floor going, but this dude is all over me. It’s totally distracting and totally inspiring at the same time, because hey, hot pegasus guy, right? I would’ve begged him to do that—but later! Well, he didn’t want to wait. I’m doing crazy things. I see a patch of ponies getting spazzy, I throw a little breakbeat at them, and it totally works, didn’t even lose the rest of the crowd. Meanwhile, wing-boy’s got his hooves way between my hind legs. I mean, he’s gone beyond feeling up my tits, right? He’s clopping the fuck out of me, right there. And then I feel this big fat pegasus cock, and it just goes, shove…”

Lyra whimpered, in a weird mixture of dismay and arousal, drawn in by the story while distressed by some of the aspects of it. Pegasus dudes did nothing for her—but she could imagine if it was her in his place, especially with the magic bit transforming her, and so rather than shy away, she longed for the story to continue.

“Yeah,” said Vinyl. “You heard me. Well, you can probably see by looking at me, Neighponnese, right? He doesn’t fit. He’s ramming it against me, I’m flipping out. I throw on completely the wrong platter. I hit it, and it’s all miscued, but get this—by total luck, I get a bass drop, and just as I’m about to go over to it and fuck everything up, the dude gets a lucky break…”

Lyra panted. “And?”

DJ Pon-3 grinned at her. “Damndest thing. Huge fat pegasus cock pries into me, and I fumble the crossfade completely, which is to the wrong thing anyway, right? I scream out, and out on the floor, I just threw a bass drop in a totally different key on top of a slamming house beat. The subwoofers churned, dude, they screamed for mercy—and the crowd screamed with them.”

Lyra’s eyes were wide. “What did you do?”

“I slammed the fader back before I lost them, of course! And that’s when I had the biggest decision of my life. Do I buck this guy off me and beg him to find me later—or do I play, and risk it?”

“Something tells me…” said Lyra.

Vinyl Scratch smirked. “Oh yeah. Oh yeah. I grabbed a couple singles I knew I could trust. I’m leanin’ too hard on the platters when I touch ‘em, but my decks have incredible torque, it didn’t faze ‘em thank goodness. I’m throwin’ crazy shit out there, and all the while this guy’s grunting over me and his body’s workin’, that big pegasus cock just plunging into me over and over. Thank goodness he didn’t pop out, we both would have freaked…”

“I can imagine,” marvelled Lyra.

“Well, imagine this!” said Vinyl. “I get dizzy and grab the wrong record again, ‘cos the guy’s really doing me good. I mean, I’m going cross-eyed here, right? And just when I’m going to go to it—he doubles up and just about shoves me over the decks, and he comes!”

She waited, expectantly, and Lyra didn’t disappoint. “And what happened?”

“I came, with my face shoved into the mic, Lyra. I screamed, and my hoof shoved the crossfader all the way over, AND hit the speed control. I couldn’t stop it, and out there on the floor, I hear these shrieks. They can see me, they see I’m being fucked into a puddle. And I’ve just climaxed, screamed into the mic—and threw a doubletime break that hit exactly on the beat, at exactly, and I mean exactly, the right tempo.”

“Oooh…” breathed Lyra.

“I couldn’t control myself for a moment. Flopping over the decks, crying out into the mic. I’ve never worked out how those tracks lined up like that, I couldn’t make it happen again no matter how I tried. I knocked the needle off the first deck, but it wasn’t live. It didn’t hurt the cartridge, somehow. The crowd is screaming and gyrating like I electrocuted them, like they’re coming too, some of them said they actually did from groove alone! I shove back onto this guy’s dick so I can reach my decks properly, and that set me off even more, crazy fucker was still hunching and spurting… it all happened so fast, it was only a couple bars, right?”

Lyra listened in awe. She understood most of the tale, though she wasn’t aware the gig had been in a bar, much less two at once.

“And my glasses have fallen half off, I’m arching my neck up trying to get a grip while this dude is fondling me, I’m coming, he’s coming, the whole crowd is flipping out and watching the whole thing, and I grab the crossfader and kill the crazy sped-up deck—and flip right into the breakdown of the first track.”

Lyra blinked. “The other one broke? You said it didn’t break!”

“No, no!” laughed Vinyl. “It’s a thing… okay, right then, the beat stopped! It just became this huge glorious afterglow, before building up again, right? What happened was, the craziness started to give a few huge thumps from the first track, right in sync, and then just as it hit, bliss! It just happened to hit the breakdown, right when all those ponies couldn’t imagine what would happen next. It just went, daaahhhh! and it was a thick… voluptuous… wash. No beat. Just afterglow, babe.”

“Wow,” breathed Lyra.

Vinyl grinned a tight, fierce little grin. “I sagged over the decks, and let it play. The guy sagged too, and he dismounted of course, and he fuckin’ fell over. I mean, he fell down, I’m lucky he didn’t throw the needle out of the groove. I didn’t fall over. I held onto the table, come dripping out of me, and I looked out upon my people, and they screamed for me until they were hoarse.”

She gulped with emotion. “You have no idea, babe. Craziest thing ever—and I played through it, and I fuckin’ triumphed. That made me. That made my legend. And I never dropped the beat. Once the breakdown was done, I kept right on going. My legs were shaking. Hah! But pegasus dude, he couldn’t walk! It was perfect.”

Lyra bit her lip. “Is it usually like that? Like… guys jumping on you, and… like that?”

“Whoa, whoa, no way!” protested Vinyl. “I just scared you, didn’t I? Nuh-uh! First of all, that was a rave in Fillydelphia. I own that town now, but you could only get away with that in Fillydelphia, and it was at about four in the morning, and the place was frickin’ crusted in salt, right? And, I was eyeing that guy bigtime, licking my lips, I was playing AT him if you know what I mean. I wanted him for later and I let him know it, he didn’t just jump on me at random.”

“Oh…” said Lyra, uncertainly.

“We’re going to a Pinkie party. It’s not going to be like that. This is Ponyville.”

“So… no salt, no crazy sex?”

“I didn’t say that,” smirked Vinyl. “I said it’s a Pinkie party. That means it’s safe. But it’s not called Midnight Sugar for nothing, babe. Lots of sugar, lots of salt, and you might very well see sex. Not just like I described, either. It’s a Pinkie party. You’re gonna see mares getting really lively with mares, colts with colts. That okay with you?”

“What would you say, if I said… that was about my speed?” Lyra licked her lips, nervously.

Vinyl glanced at her and chuckled. “I’d say, I’m bringing you to the right place!”

“Will you be… finding pegasus guys? For later?”

Vinyl made a face, peering over her sunglasses. “It’s a Pinkie joint. Not from up on the bandstand, I won’t. She wouldn’t stand for it. Maybe you can work the crowd for me? After my set, we can cruise. How about it? You think you can find me a little something special?”

Lyra gulped, her heart pounding. “You can count on me!”

The chin came up. The eyes vanished behind matching red shades.

“Awesome,” grinned DJ Pon-3.

The Beat Goes On

The bass throbbed. Lyra couldn’t think of a better way to describe it. She hadn’t been expecting that. She knew it would be loud, and had prepared herself to be bludgeoned by pounding drums: she’d wandered into a club in Canterlot once, and the experience was much like being repeatedly bucked in the head, while surrounded by hoity-toity rich unicorns that bounced up and down stiltedly, prodded by the harsh, jabbing beat.

DJ Pon-3 sounded a different call.

The floor was full of all types of ponies, gyrating and writhing to the beat like Lyra hadn’t seen outside the bedroom—indeed, she’d not seen the like even during sex. The distinct styles fascinated her until she could hardly dance for watching.

Her fellow unicorns seemed prone to flowing, liquid moves of the forelegs, like they were gesturing forth magic spells, and Lyra found herself entranced by a particularly unicornian detail—they danced with their necks and shoulders. She couldn’t begin to guess how, and didn’t dare try, but she couldn’t take her eyes off the result, for it meant the dancers were continually describing shapes in the air defined by their gesturing forehooves and their heads and horns. A few of the unicorns were actually lit up, though Lyra couldn’t see anypony having sex with them—without anyone touching them, they danced entranced, horns glimmering and making shapes in the cozy darkness from their twisting motions.

One writhed joyously past Lyra, and the amorous glow wasn’t just from her horn—she’d enchanted her hooves as well, and persistence of vision made colorful twisting patterns in the air after her. Lyra blinked, realizing there was more going on than sexual arousal—a whole area of unicorns were clearly casting lightspells on themselves. Lyra blushed, realizing she’d mistaken their glow for erotic release of the most intimate kind—and then blushed more, understanding that it was meant to resemble that.

It was hard to focus on the elegant gesturing moves of the unicorns, however, with the pegasi around.

At first, Lyra had squeaked and cowered away, afraid to even get on the floor—but earth ponies and unicorns alike seemed unconcerned, and eventually she inched out into the crowd, eyes wide, heart pounding.

Pegasi danced like dervishes, like fiends.

Hooves flew, wings flared and swirled—Lyra had to get used to being buffeted by winds, while trying to dance. She tried to keep clear but it didn’t seem to matter—powerful bodies, some glazed in fresh, piquant sweat, hurtled to within inches of her, never once touching her. The one time she bumped another dancer, it had been thanks to her own panicky lunge away from a twirling pegasus mare—she’d bumped into another pegasus while both were looking the other direction, and he had been the one to frantically apologize, looking horribly embarrassed! Somehow, his reaction helped her understand: the winged ponies danced wildly and physically, but with such unerring control that to run into a fellow dancer was the height of uncouth. From that point on, Lyra gritted her teeth, determined not to flinch, and surprisingly soon she relaxed to the experience as pegasus mares and stallions alike dove, tumbled and twirled around her, their limbs flashing through a dizzying array of bold moves, locking into rigid poses and popping from position to position with fierce dexterity.

And the earth ponies… Lyra had to admit, the earth ponies fully held their own. They seemed to draw on a little of everything, but where unicorns enjoyed gesturing with forelimbs and horns, and pegasi flung themselves into gymnastic displays, there was something a little special about the earth ponies too. Sweet Celestia, how they shook their asses! There was something extra earthy about them, that brought back the fondness Lyra’d once had for Bon Bon. She gawked at those erotic wriggles, taking in the sight of shamelessly squirming burnt-ochre hips, set off by spots of bright color. So visceral—it made you want to say, hell with horns, hell with wings, let me grab this pony and feel all over her ecstatically writhing body…

Lyra blinked. A blue pegasus was already on the case—a blue pegasus who wasn’t cutting loose like the others, a fat one—no, pregnant, very pregnant. Lyra realized she’d been ogling Applejack, and blushed hard. That was another celebrity pony… sort of. They’d never got along beyond basic social pleasantries, and Lyra didn’t relish explaining how she’d been ogling Applejack’s pony breasts and imagining her tongue caressing those pert swellings and encircling the cute nipples.

And of course, it could only be Rainbow Dash, amazingly pregnant, flushed and beaming, her hoof publically fondling those earth pony tits as Applejack laughed and tried to wriggle away. The pair migrated toward the edge of the dancefloor, and Lyra danced further into the crowd, unworried by flailing, athletic pegasi.

It was a funny thing. Lyra hadn’t danced before, and she’d stood intimidated at the edge of the crowd before summoning all her courage and awkwardly dancing a path right through it, out the other side—to stand gasping and trembling in an open space, her safe haven. She tried it again, and then she realized an amazing thing. There were open spaces in the middle of the dance floor—she’d been making for them as she tried to get through to what seemed like safety, for she was terrified she’d be run over, or shoved back out again. Yet, once she was in there, hopping up and down awkwardly and plotting her course back out of the scrum, the open spaces kept materializing around her, moment by moment.

She didn’t have to earn a space in there, or ask for one. A Lyra-shaped space would exist because she was there. It wouldn’t exist until she jumped in—she could watch all day and never see that Lyra-shaped hole in the dancefloor waiting for her—but the instant she trotted forward and began to dance, there it would be.

The moment she realized that, before she even took a step… was the moment Lyra really began to dance.

The thing was, it’d become hard to avoid. The beat wasn’t the jabbing, poking thing she’d heard in Canterlot. It swung, it throbbed—bright points of clarity emerged through a seductive, murky haze. Lyra’s brain couldn’t work out quite where the beat was, but her body instinctively knew, her tail lashed and it made her hips grind and it was making her wet and squirmy, the bass fondling her intimate regions when she danced over to the speaker stacks, which she did again and again.

If the Canterlot beat was a palace wall of neat white bricks, with sharp corners and a massive, unfeeling perfection that dared you to match its flawlessness, then DJ Pon-3’s beat was an urban wall—grimey, burnt out in places, darkened by haze and smoke and organic stains from the passions of countless ponies screwing while pressed up against it—or sitting on projecting rubble at leisure, making themselves at home. It was a wall you could live with, a beat that didn’t stand aloof like some special experience but enfolded you and insinuated itself into your life. Grimey like a casual urban neighborhood with earth ponies, pegasi and unicorn bustling up against each other all day every day, sharing each others’ joys and pleasures, torn by conflict, drawn together again by the sheer familiarity.

The bass throbbed, seeming to catch the rest of the music in giant paws and crack it like a whiplash—riffs flailing around as loosely yet as dexterously as the dancing pegasi, textures as sharp as a glittering unicorn horn but as flowing as their graceful moves. And when voices came through the din, they were as soulful and heartfelt as the capering earth ponies, unreserved and earnest.

Lyra danced until she staggered, and DJ Pon-3 goaded her and all the rest of the dancefloor on mercilessly, grinning down upon them from the bandstand, trademark sunglasses firmly in place. If she noticed when exhausted Lyra staggered off to find a quiet spot to rest, she didn’t show it.

It had all become too much. Lyra took a few minutes to recover, away from the dancefloor.

She explored the heaving pit of iniquity that had been Sugarcube Corner, looking for somewhere to decompress. A little room off to the side of the entrance beckoned, a cloakroom or something. Lyra quietly scooted into the inviting semidarkness—and froze, inside the doorway.

Not two feet in front of her trembling hooves lay Rainbow Dash, reclining on a heap of cloaks and capes the partiers had worn in the chill of early autumn, her eyes closed, her legs spread, her huge belly seeming round as a ball. The position was one to show off her pony tits and eager vag, but these things could not be seen. They could, however, be heard—for Applejack’s head pressed between Dash’s legs, moaning and nuzzling Dash’s crotch, tongue extended to lick and penetrate Rainbow’s treasure, face shoving hungrily forth to erotically devour the shuddering pegasus as Dash’s leg kicked weakly, drunkenly.

Lyra couldn’t move. Her eyes took in Rainbow’s twitches and cries, and glanced over to see that her earth pony lover seemed possessed, going after the pegasus vag in crazed fashion and writhing as she lay alongside Rainbow. Lyra’s gaze picked up details in the dark, like Applejack’s hat lying upside-down on the floor, the earth pony’s blonde mane strewn wildly across her shoulders as her head jockeyed for position, striving to suckle on pussy with ever louder cries of sweet frenzy against Rainbow Dash’s cute mound.

Lyra’s eyes roamed up Applejack’s squirming body to where her blonde tail thrashed against the spilled cloaks, and there was an extra limb there in the darkness—and it became clear that Applejack wasn’t motivated only by delight in her cunnilingus, though delighted she plainly was. Rainbow Dash’s hoof thrust right between Applejack’s legs, and could be seen working away relentlessly as the sweet earth pony yowled and squirmed and wrapped her lips around Rainbow Dash’s jutting vulva and clit. Dash was clopping her like mad, her buried hoof grinding and fondling at a fevered pace.

Lyra gulped, taking a step back, aroused by the intensity of the private little scene and horrified by her intrusion. As she watched, Applejack’s body jolted and she squealed against Dash’s pussy and redoubled her efforts. Rainbow’s eyes remained closed, but she was baring her teeth, arching her back, her hoof working away against Applejack’s wildly excited vagina, and Dash’s nostrils flared as she took a fierce, panting breath, then another…

Applejack’s hind legs kicked, her tail thrashing as she let out a wavering, sweet cry that took three deep breaths to get out, a cry that was itself muffled because her face kept pressing lovingly against Rainbow’s crotch, pleasuring her lover even as she came, seemingly all the more transported by the desire to please even as her own release overcame her.

Rainbow bore this sexual overload for a moment, wriggling on her back with wings splayed stiffly out to her sides against the pile of clothes, and then she gave a sharp squeal, kicking and thrashing, shrieking her pleasures and going purple in the face. Applejack’s head fell away, and Lyra could see that Dash’s tits had flushed purple as well, and her pussy was straight out of the seamiest clop-magazines, drenched with saliva and its own juices, swollen in savage arousal.

The scent wafted to Lyra and froze her again. Sometimes you got a hit of the pheromones when things went extra well. Lyra breathed in raw Apple-Dash, a concentrated feedback loop of mare perfumes, heady scents that told a tale of utter, eager devotion, of two ponies who’d dove so far into each other that they needed nothing so rude as common air.

Applejack panted, stirring, inhaling the joys of her lover’s marehood, as Rainbow’s hoof withdrew tenderly from between her legs. She reached out for her hat, without looking, and mumbled, “My sakes… now, we got to get you off your back, honey…”

Rainbow’s eyes opened—and met Lyra’s.

“Oh, hi, Lyra!” came the scratchy, wry little voice. “Enjoying the party?”

At this, Applejack’s head jerked upright, and she gazed wide-eyed at their observer, looking like she’d been caught stealing. Her lip quivered, and she seemed torn between anger and guilt.

“Or should I say… enjoying the show?” teased Dash.

“I’m so sorry,” stammered Lyra. “I was trying to find a quiet place!”

Applejack wriggled, and Lyra realized the country pony was trying to get up—but she was too wrung out by the intensity of her orgasms whilst pleasuring her pregnant pegasus, and she just flopped over, her hat falling off again, staring up at Lyra with a vulnerable, stricken look, blonde mane falling across her face. Lyra knew that look. Once upon a time, Bon Bon had worn it regularly, though her vulnerability had been more worshipfulness and less being caught in public.

Applejack laughed softly, blushing.

“Aw. I hope we weren’t too noisy? We’re sorry too, honey. Now I gotta… oof.. get up and get this here varmint… oof! onto her hooves!”

“Maybe I’ll just lie here,” teased Rainbow Dash. “Do it again!”

“Oh no!” said Applejack, struggling harder to rise. Lyra backed away another step, as the earth pony got up and began nuzzling her limp, inflated pegasus, trying to flip her over. “Ya feelin’ tingles? Numbness? Numbskull, more like! Ya can’t lay like that, you miscreant, Spy’s squishin’ your inside parts! Granny told you when it tingles or goes numb, ya gotta flip over!”

Grumbling, squishing, Rainbow Dash rolled her bulk onto her side, kicking a leg in cranky protest. “All right, all right…”

“Do you need help?” said Lyra, her head still spinning from the bath of erotic mare perfumes that wafted forth when the lovers moved.

Applejack cocked a sharp eye.

“We’re good, honey. An’ we’re done, whatever this featherbrain thinks! Sorry for th’ trouble…”

“Oh, it was… you were… uh…” Lyra gulped, as Applejack’s gaze held her. “Beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

The stern earth pony gaze softened.

“Well… thank you. And you can thank this crazy lil’ girl for that, she’s the one who couldn’t wait to get home. I reckon I’m okay with that—jes’ this once. Feelin’ kinda generous, I guess you could say.”

She shook her head, astonished or amused. She snagged her hat with a fore-hoof and flipped it onto her head, gazing out from under it with a sharp, capable eye.

“You run along now, Lyra honey. Go fetch your sweetie and do your own dances. We’re goin’ home as we shoulda done if I wasn’t a consarned sentimental fool—we gotta get to sleep, it’s mighty late!”

Rainbow Dash had struggled, grimacing, to her hooves, flapping chaotically and sending gusts of perfumed air around the little room. “Bah. You loved it and you know it. Am I right? You saw her, didn’t you, Lyra? Look, her hind legs are shaking!”

Applejack glared at her mate indignantly, and then snorted, a smirk stealing across her face. It was true—Rainbow’s hungry clopping and delectable marehood had left Applejack staggered, and her rump quivered as she barely maintained her upright position. Lyra sympathized. She’d been worked over that thoroughly at times, and she wouldn’t have dared to try and stand, right afterwards.

“Still your fault, Dashie.”

“Oh yes,” said Rainbow Dash, proudly—and they set off, making their way past Lyra, their sated, sex-wracked bodies giving off enticing heat and scent, their legs wobbling as they walked sedately out of the cloakroom, down the hall, and carefully out the door to head for home at Sweet Apple Acres.

Lyra listened to them go, and bit her lip.

Sweet Celestia, did she need a lay, after that…

The dance floor churned, but the groove had changed. It felt harder, less organic, the wall of sound no longer bore vines and the stains of pony pleasures. It was simpler, tougher, and the mass of dancing ponies felt opaque—like there would be no space to jump into, though Lyra knew there would be. She studied the gyrating bodies, and glanced up at the bandstand to see a pegasus shaking his forehoof in the air…

“Hey, there you are!” came the perky little voice. Lyra glanced over, startled, and Vinyl Scratch was standing there, with a gawking pony to either side of her. They looked sick with envy as Vinyl trotted over to greet Lyra.

“Whatcha think? Whoof!” gasped Vinyl, stepping back. “What’ve YOU been doing, there, Lyra? I think maybe you’re learning too quick!” She poked Lyra in the chest playfully, with a wicked grin.

“Nothing!” squeaked Lyra. “Or… well, not as much as I’d like!”

DJ Pon-3 cackled, and bounced in place on her hooves, and Lyra began to grin just to see the little unicorn’s energy. Vinyl was bubbling with it. She looked like she was about to caper madly around her two companions—if they even were companions. They stood awkwardly, seemingly afraid to even look DJ Pon-3 in the eye, which would be impossible anyhow due to the big sunglasses. Lyra grinned more, just looking at the group, and Vinyl’s smile threatened to burst off her face, teeth glittering in the warm darkness of the dancefloor, and the two flanking ponies began to look sullen and turn away, unable to grin so happily at a pony celebrity…

“So!” said Vinyl. “Ya line me up a nice stallion?” She said it with complete unconcern, though one of the two awkward ponies was a unicorn stallion. He visibly sulked. The other fan-pony glanced sympathetically at him. She inclined her head. He brightened, and the two began to sidle off, leaving Vinyl and Lyra facing each other.

Lyra gulped. “Y… y… yes?” She couldn’t tear her eyes from those shades. Somehow, she felt the bright gaze transfixing her, even without being able to see it directly.

Vinyl’s horn was glimmering, scintillating faintly. Lyra tried not to stare. She wondered if hers was doing the same, and then corrected herself—she was far too frightened for that.

“Yes is good,” said Vinyl. “I like yes! Where is he? Did you find something nice for yourself?”

“Oh, how I hope so,” breathed Lyra.

“Lead me to him!”

Lyra gulped. “Step outside?”

They walked—or, rather, Lyra walked with shaking hooves, and Vinyl pranced—to the door, and emerged into the cool autumn air. Lyra led the prancing DJ a few paces away, and turned to face the little Neighponnese, feeling her blood turn to water, her knees shaking.

“So where is he?” chirped DJ Pon-3, grinning madly.

Lyra gulped. “I… I would like to be him. For you.”

She died thousands of deaths in the few seconds Vinyl Scratch took to answer. Her grin never wavered, but that was no help.

“I watched you dance,” said the DJ. “You never danced before, did you?”

Lyra shook her head. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she thought she would faint.

“You danced for me,” said Vinyl, and her voice smiled.

Lyra stared, speechless.

“I’m flexible,” said Vinyl. “And you’re ridiculously cute—for a mare, that is.”

Lyra bit her lip, still too terrified to move. Seeing this, DJ Pon-3 heaved an exasperated sigh, dipped her head, and peeked over her lowered sunglasses at Lyra.

Her eyes were to die for, just to die for.

“Care to fuck me?” said DJ Pon-3, with a wry, provocative grin.

Lyra blinked, and Vinyl watched happily as the golden eyes glowed with recognition and delight, as the luminous, radiant unicorn seemed to light up from inside, suffused with excitement and glee until she could hardly stand it.

Vinyl grinned more, as Lyra bounced on four hooves, hopping foolishly in place, frisking like a filly.

“Eeeeeee!” squealed Lyra. “Eeeeeee!”

“C’mon!” grinned Vinyl. Her face hurt from grinning. Well, that was a great gig for you… She set off, prancing like a show-pony. “Pinkie will watch my gear. My place ain’t far!”

Lyra’s trot barely touched the ground.

“No! Not in there, Lyra honey. In here.”

Lyra lingered, staring into the pristine, neat room. “But… spacious!”

Vinyl giggled. “You’re gonna be that rowdy? Might be fun. Seriously, not there. That would be a big no. C’mere.”

She led Lyra into another cluttered room, but this one had a cleared space on the floor. Lyra looked again. No, not the floor—it was a raised platform. With… bedsheets? Except it wasn’t, because it appeared uneven, rumpled…

Vinyl trotted right onto whatever it was, and lay down, grinning up at Lyra, who walked hesitantly forward and felt the surface yield beneath her hooves.

“What’s this?”

“Futon.”

“You sleep on the floor?”

“Not just sleep!” smirked Vinyl Scratch.

Lyra lay down beside her. The material was very firm.

“Thing is,” said Vinyl, “I’m not sure it matters with you. I know what I’m getting into, and it shouldn’t involve a lot of jumping around. Unless you have a wooden dick in that little bag of yours? I wouldn’t think so. Not that there’s anything wrong with that if you do it! Takes all kinds! I just—maybe not so into the wooden dick thing, okay?”

“For what reason?” said Lyra, blinking rapidly, and most discombobulated.

“Oh GAWWWD you do, don’t you?” moaned Vinyl. “All right, what the hell, do me, just no fucking splinters, okay? It goddamn well better be varnished, baby, and go gentle…”

“No, I mean what kind do you like?” said Lyra. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

“But I already told you. Soarin’ cock,” smirked Vinyl. “If you have that, I’m gonna be really mad, because I want it attached to his luscious, muscular body. Are you putting me on?”

In answer, Lyra opened her bag and levitated out the magic bit, floating it before Vinyl’s eyes. Her forehead suggested that she was squinting at it, though the sunglasses hid everything.

“I don’t know what ponies have been telling you about Neighponnese,” said DJ Pon-3, “but listen carefully: we are not THAT small in the snatch. Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“No, no! This is a magical thing. Perfect for unicorns. You bite it, and it turns you into a guy.”

At that, DJ Pon-3 dipped her head and peered over the top of her sunglasses. “Do I get to pick the guy? Do Soarin’. …she said, predictably.”

Lyra sagged. “Uhh… it doesn’t work like that. Here, try it, you’ll see.”

She levitated the bit towards Vinyl’s mouth, but the reaction she got was startling. “Whoa!” yelled the DJ, turning her head aside, scrambling back awkwardly against the wall. Her glasses were askew, and one eye stared in alarm at the floating bit.

“What’s the matter? I’m sorry! Did it scare you?”

Vinyl licked her lips, blinking. “Nah. I’m OK. Just… okay, swear you’ll never tell anypony this. It shouldn’t matter, but… yeah, never tell anypony. Promise?”

“Sure,” said Lyra. She floated the bit back over towards herself, just in case.

“Okay. Wow, I can’t believe I’m telling you this. You’re gonna be part of a very small circle, sweetie, understand… so here’s the thing. I don’t touch any artifact magic, ever.”

Lyra blinked. “But…”

“You got it. Except my decks. My wonderful decks.” She gulped. “We have a thing going. If you called it superstitious you wouldn’t be the first… you can do what you want, I don’t mind any of it, but don’t ask me to work artifact magic, okay? Freaks me out. Now I kinda want to go get my decks… left them at Pinkie’s, and here I am hangin’ out with a strange magic artifact in the bedroom and everything…”

Lyra stood. “Let’s do it!”

“Eeee!” squealed DJ Pon-3. “Really? That’s so understanding. Seriously? You’ll put off sex just to help me out?”

Lyra batted her eyelashes. “For you, my darling, of course!”

Vinyl hopped up and nuzzled under Lyra’s chin. “That’s it, you’re getting the full DJ workout. That’s awesome! I totally appreciate it. Let’s go get ‘em!”

The autumn air seemed even cooler, nipping playfully at unicorn rumps as they trotted back to rejoin the distant thumping of the party.

“Will your decks be… jealous? If the bit lets me… have my way, with you?” asked Lyra.

“Nah. Just humor me. Which you are—so sweet of you! Won’t be a moment. Wait here!”

Vinyl dashed inside, scooting right past several ponies who tried to speak to her, and Lyra waited. Soon, the DJ reappeared, horn glowing brightly as she levitated both turntables and the mixer all by herself.

“Do you want me to get that?” said Lyra.

“Nah. It’s not far—and I want to be carrying them, all of them. Okay?”

Lyra nodded, and they headed back.

The shelves where the gear was kept weren’t just shelves—Lyra hadn’t noticed the first time, but the decks lived on folded velvet fabric, like little bedspreads for the shelves. The fabric was a little nicer than the bedsheets Vinyl slept on. Lyra didn’t comment, as DJ Pon-3 tucked her decks in for the night, covering them with velvet drop-cloths.

She sighed, contentedly, and turned, smiling, walking deliberately over to Lyra and kissing her. “You’re a star, cutie. C’mon, let me show you a good time.”

They returned to Vinyl’s bedroom and the futon, which Vinyl lounged upon, rolling playfully on her back. “Too bad it’s a magic dildo. I wish you could feel this. I’ll let you play other ways, too, okay?”

Lyra blinked. “Oh, I can. I mean I will. It does.”

“Really? Whoa! Now that, I never heard of. How’s that even possible? Lemme see!”

Lyra floated the bit out of her bag again, and took it between her teeth. DJ Pon-3’s jaw dropped, as she watched the fine green erection emerge from between Lyra’s hind legs. Lyra suspected that behind the glasses, Vinyl’s eyes had bugged out. She scooted forward, nosing under Lyra’s body, sniffing and investigating.

“I kn’w it’s n’t th’t big…” said Lyra apologetically. “My… s’meone I knew, w’s bigger…”

“Nice,” said DJ Pon-3. “Oh, don’t you worry—you’re gettin’ Pon-3ed, cutie-pie. You totally won’t feel small, trust me. Besides, that’s not really small, just comfy. Or at least you’re used to thinking of it as comfy… muahahaha…”

Lyra spat the bit out. “Yikes! ‘muahahaha’? Are you gonna bite it?”

Vinyl smirked like mad. “Not exactly. Have you seen this thing before?”

She turned aside, and bent down to grab something out of a pile of blankets, something shiny. It was apparently heavy, for her neck tensed to support its weight, and her teeth gritted to hold onto it. It was a gleaming metal thingy, with a large heavy lump on one end. The shaft was about twice the girth of the magic bit, and made of the same metal. Then, on the far end, there was a much smaller lump. A nub, really.

On closer inspection, it looked as if the thing had started off much like it appeared, but the thickness of the shaft revealed discrepancies. It looked very much like a unicorn transformation spell had taken the large end, and expanded it to be that much bigger and heavier. And, on the other end, had taken the smaller lump, and shrunk it until it was very small. Very very small, relative to the girth of the shaft. So small, that if it had been an equine penis, it would be a true flareless wonder that would pull out immediately at the slightest tug.

Of course, it clearly was not an equine penis. It looked like exercise equipment.

Vinyl smirked terribly, holding her prize. Then she dropped it back where it came from, with a heavy thud. “Well?”

“I have no idea. Is it some sort of dumb-bell? For neck exercises?” said Lyra.

Vinyl cackled. “Not exactly! This is gonna be such fun. I promise I’ll be gentle. To a point… Trust me. We’re gonna have a good time.”

Lyra began to smile. “Oh, you want a good time?” Her smile grew in size and smugness.

“I want you to have a good time! You’re adorable, toots!”

“Lay back,” said Lyra firmly.

DJ Pon-3 straightened her glasses—and laid back, her legs parting—and Lyra moved in, bit-less.

There was no question about it—the celebrity pony understood what Lyra was up to. She wriggled, making herself more comfortable, tilting her hips back and exposing herself to Lyra, whose golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction at the prize before her.

It was such a cute little pussy, too. Just like Vinyl Scratch herself, it was less tall than the usual type, its aperture less elongated… the labia tidy, well shaped, but seeming very small. Lyra felt her own pussy pouting and showing its arousal and approval, but where hers swelled up, where her clitoris jutted out to form an arch of vagina between her legs, Vinyl Scratch’s seemed like it didn’t have enough vulva to do that. So contained, so strangely refined on the little mare…

As Lyra watched, DJ Pon-3’s lips parted, with a vanishingly faint wet sound, revealing moist pinkness that glowed with health and vigor. She squirmed gently, and winked, those little labia flipping outward and then relaxing before Lyra’s entranced eyes.

“Told you I was flexible—c’mon, help yourself!”

Lyra didn’t need two invitations.

Reverently, Lyra’s head dipped, tongue outstretched, and DJ Pon-3’s teeth gritted in pleasure as Lyra’s adoring tongue traced her diminutive labia, stroked inside, pressed a little deeper to savor the heat and dark inner folds of her Neighponnese treasure that she was so proud of. Her tail twitched—this was gonna be good, she could tell. The pretty mare was obviously such a raging lesbian, she knew pussy inside and out—it was like one of those special dudes who really paid close attention. She hoped like hell it wasn’t the kind that took it too far—she didn’t want to be giving direction the whole time—but it was a great start.

Lyra breathed in the exquisite, delicate scents, drank mare nectar, marvelled. What Pinkie Pie always said—it was true—straight girl pussies had less character, but they were sweet like candy. She took a moment to thrust her tongue into Vinyl as deeply as she could manage, sure that the straight mare wanted and needed that reminder of maleness, and marvelled again, for Vinyl Scratch was so bizarrely snug. Lyra knew that she herself wasn’t the roomiest girl, but there was something weird about Vinyl. It didn’t feel just like a small pussy—it felt like she was thrusting her tongue into a yielding space that nevertheless contained unexpected power, positively twitching with expectant, reserved strength.

Lyra’s exploring tongue withdrew from the fevered depths, and her mouth tenderly enfolded Vinyl’s small clitoris, tongue casually stroking up the front wall of her pussy to caress the underside of the small, stiffened nub.

“Gnnnh!”

DJ Pon-3 stiffened, every limb going tense, arching slightly under Lyra’s ministrations. A wave of fresh nectar appeared as if like magic, glistening against Lyra’s tenderly nuzzling chin.

“Oh FUCK babe oh gawwwwd…”

Lyra mmmed as she continued to lick, but DJ Pon-3 had other ideas.

“Oh sweet fucking Celestia… wait wait hold it, save it… nggh! gonna bring me off…”

Lyra looked up and smiled, licking her lips. “You think?”

DJ Pon-3’s glasses were slightly crooked, her mane frazzled. “Wait! Fuck me. You said you can feel it, right?”

Lyra nodded.

“Let me come on you, then!”

Lyra smirked. “But you were about to! I won’t mind if you do. It’s the highest sort of compliment. Just get me a towel and it’ll be fine…”

“No, no, I mean… okay, look, I’ll show you. Enter me again.”

“What?”

“With your tongue! Try and keep it in.”

Lyra blinked, and stuck her tongue out, and dipped her head. It wasn’t difficult to push her tongue into the warmth and wetness of Vinyl’s pussy—in fact, it seemed almost mockingly easy, like the little Neighponnese mare was melting away for her and inviting her flesh deeper and deeper.

Right up to the point where she tensed—and crushed down upon Lyra’s startled tongue, forcing it back out no matter how Lyra struggled.

DJ Pon-3 cackled, gleefully, and then squealed, for Lyra fought back by suckling greedily on her clit some more. “Ngahhh! Oh gawwwd! Stoppit!”

“I will if you tell me what the hell was that?” challenged Lyra, breathing on Vinyl’s quivering, overwhelmed clit.

Vinyl panted, her glasses even more crooked. “Exer. Cises. Hhhh! I… I can make your cock feel incredible. I love it.” She panted more, gathering her wits. “I love what you did, yeah… but come on, babe. Let me show you my stuff. I’m special. I promised you a real DJ Pon-3 workout. You totally earned it. Like, three times over by now, okay?”

Lyra gave her a look, and then didn’t argue further—she rolled away, digging through the rumpled sheets to find the discarded magic bit, taking it in her teeth.

“Wahoo!” squealed DJ Pon-3, flipping over and bouncing to her hooves in the middle of the bed. “Let the serious laying commence!”

As the magic stallionhood eagerly extended itself underneath her, Lyra rolled her eyes. Serious, huh? She licked her lips, savoring the amazing, delicate flavors. Fair enough, she thought.

Vinyl was enticing beyond anything Lyra had seen. Her mane was disheveled, her glasses still askew, her pert rump quivered around the target of a pouting, juicy little marehood that was like a beautiful flowerbud, curiously round like the hot little hole it was, dripping that delectable mare-juice and winking its longings and demands.

Lyra had no desire to hesitate or tease. She mounted onto DJ’s quivering ass, wrapping her forelegs around the little mare’s shapely body, and began to prod with her hips, finding her target. Her luck was in—almost at once, the head of her slender, flared cock touched slippery hotness, and Vinyl shuddered at the touch.

Lyra’s hips shoved firmly, and she’d penetrated DJ Pon-3 with her magic stallionhood.

Her eyes widened. Yes, this was special… Vinyl panted under her, and she could feel the DJ mare gripping her shaft, a peculiar sensation. It wasn’t a narrow band of tautness, either. Felt like she’d thrust into an eager knot of pussy, supple and healthy—like there was room for her to swell up even fatter than she was, but it held, it clung…

Lyra tugged her hips backward, her slender taper going thinner towards the tip, flare coming to life. She gasped, around the bit in her teeth. DJ Pon-3 had felt her doing it, and her unicorn pussy had locked down with effortless strength, clamping onto Lyra’s cock. It locked onto the shaft just behind the flare, and there was no chance that would be tugged out. Lyra’s breath hissed through her teeth, and she hesitated, startled by the tightness of the grip.

DJ Pon-3’s rump wriggled. “Go on!” she moaned. “Go on, stallion. Do it!”

Slowly, firmly, Lyra’s hips pressed forward, and her tapering shaft thrust inch by inch into the numbingly tight, slippery confines of DJ Pon-3’s straining vagina.

Lyra whinnied, senses overwhelming her—things were getting just too damned cramped—but the next thing she knew, Vinyl was wriggling under her and the harshness had melted away. It seemed the DJ had been showing her a trick. Lyra’s crotch pressed Vinyl’s ass, and she felt that amazing snatch grasping at her cock-base with eager tensings, but gentler, without the painful harshness. Lyra realized motion was awfully easy, and heard juicy squelches from each shift of her hips—the trick had turned DJ Pon-3 on, perhaps delivered a sensory jolt as intense for her as it was for her stallion, and it had turned her into a juicy squidge-pot of a little unicorn.

“Oh GAWWWD yes, yes…”

Lyra prodded Vinyl’s depths, rewarded by lewd, voluptuous shudders and wails, and then she had a thought—she knew some things about mares, being one, and she felt her flare getting really hard inside Vinyl. Some part of her, perhaps answering a stallion’s call, was telling her to shove the thing deep, blast away, and dismount—but she thought she might just combine the earthy hunger of the stallion with the sensuous cunning of the mare.

Lyra tugged her hips back, rather than shoving them forward—and carefully positioned the end of her stiffened cock at a certain depth. She bore down on the bit with extra pressure from her teeth, did all she could to stiffen herself—and began working that expanded flare back and forth inside Vinyl, exploring, searching. It wasn’t where the squeezing pussy clamped her with suddenly heightened frenzy. Just a few inches deeper… Lyra thought she almost felt something in there, though of course one didn’t feel it as a lump or object. Just a location she knew might be there, just a stiffened stallion-flare unexpectedly working back and forth across that trigger point in a way natural stallions wouldn’t think to do…

Vinyl Scratch’s body jolted like she’d been struck by lightning. She squealed in shock, jolting again… and then the air was split by wild screams, and Lyra’s cock was being wailed upon with mad, savage clenches.

“AUGH! GAWD! FUCK! OH FUCK! AAAAHHH!”

Lyra grinned around the bit, even though it hurt to receive such punishing erotic rewards, for she knew she’d guessed right—but then her ears quirked, for things had got complicated.

“AGH! DEEPER! NO! WAIT, NOT YET! AHHH!”

Vinyl was trying to pull away, still coming her hooves off. Lyra hugged her body, and said “W’ht? What’s th’ m’tter?”

DJ Pon-3 shook her head wildly, her glasses almost coming off. “Please! Flip over! Please, oh please, quick!”

Startled, Lyra allowed herself to dismount. Vinyl’s pussy yanked at the flare, coming out, but still relaxed enough to permit its withdrawal. As quickly and gracefully as she could, all the while watching the shuddering, reeling mare beside her, Lyra rolled onto her back, stallionhood jutting eagerly up into the air and glistening with Vinyl’s ooze.

DJ Pon-3 trembled, straightening her glasses, and though she staggered, she managed to straddle Lyra. “Best way… we’ll stay together. Ohhhh… hang on!”

With that, she pressed herself back onto Lyra’s stallionhood, flare wedging through her cute gaping entrance, giving one more jolt to her frame as it pushed past that sensitive internal spot, and plunging deeper and deeper until Lyra had sank to the hilt in her lover—who sat up, trembling, a quivery smile on her face, and began to squirm and writhe.

As she did, Lyra felt that amazing unicorn pussy begin to work like it was milking her, urging her stallionhood to go ever harder, coaxing a release with more and more insistence.

She stared up at DJ Pon-3, amazed. The Neighponnese mare was getting into her thing, and she’d begun to jolt and shudder in orgasm again, feeling that stallionhood pressing so deep, pushed snugly against her cervix but with only the pressure that she gave it—though Lyra felt herself begin to make eager hunching, shoving motions, and that apparently wasn’t a bad thing.

Vinyl slowly writhed, singing a lewd wordless song of gasps and wails, grasping onto Lyra’s cockbase with eerie dexterity, her inner walls seemingly fondling Lyra’s cock-head by her gyrations and the way she pressed back onto it. It was like she was masturbating all the spots in her hungry snug marehood at once, against the unyielding stiffness of Lyra’s erection. Perhaps it was more of her special tricks, things that weren’t as relevant used on an artificial stallion made of a mare and a bit, things that would be mind-blowing for a real stallion with only natural urges to drive him. That was surely it…

He would expect to unload in a heaving spurt, and hop off his quivering mare, and yet this time it would be impossible. He’d be lying on his back, stiff as a rock, perhaps impeded a little by the unfamiliarity of it, and atop him, DJ Pon-3 would be writhing, crooning, bringing herself off and pinning him down with her slight body. Perhaps he’d buck and shove, and she’d ride him, and when he came, she’d quiet down and hold very still, and he’d realize he wasn’t dismounting this time, and his eyes would roll back in his head as his huge stallion cock throbbed, enclosed by slick wetness, a tight eager grip holding him at the base and keeping him hard, and that grasp would begin to clench and milk his spasms as they were dragged on beyond anything he could imagine… and when he fainted, she would still be riding him, and she’d sag over his shuddering body, still penetrated, mercifully not squirming any longer, and as he softened he’d shake and quiver all over as the too-intense sensation began to subside with teasing, maddening slowness…

Lyra saw it all in an instant as she took in a sudden breath, her body answering Vinyl’s with a mad surge of arousal… and she felt Vinyl press firmly backwards, taking up all the space inside herself with throbbing hard stallionhood… and Lyra came, slamming her head back against the futon as her body cut loose.

She felt her body spurting into Vinyl’s, felt Vinyl go still and begin to quiver madly all over, she thought she could even feel Vinyl’s tail twitch violently and was sure she heard its dry swishing—the little mare’s tail must have cracked like a whip—and Lyra grinned harder as her sudden fantasy began to play out. She knew there was a twist in store.

Vinyl’s lips parted in a sweet wordless cry, and Lyra drank in the sight, eyes roaming up and down the dainty unicorn body that straddled her. It was ravishing—and she felt ravished, in the nicest way. Lyra also felt pinned down more than she believed possible—Vinyl had to be ramming that cock-head against her cervix with great force, their crotches practically occupied the same spot. There was barely an inch of shaft left glistening in the air. Vinyl’s head swayed dreamily, and it looked like she was riding out her phenomenal orgasm, waiting to gently come back down…

Vinyl blinked, dazedly.

Lyra grinned up at her, around the bit, as Vinyl quivered and continued to twitch in aftershocks that wouldn’t quite stop as she’d expected.

“Fake, r’memb’r? Doesn’t g’t soft.”

DJ Pon-3 stared down at her, mane totally frazzled, glasses askew again, a look of shock on her adorable face.

“So, when y’re tired…” said Lyra, and held out her forelegs invitingly.

Vinyl twitched again. She laughed, breathlessly. With care, she eased herself up, impaling herself less fiercely on the unexpectedly erect stallionhood. She straightened her trademark sunglasses with a look of amused chagrin, and she nestled forward into Lyra’s embrace, moving cautiously, for it wasn’t the stallion’s parts this time that were left an oversensitive wreck of shrieking nerves.

Actually, thought Lyra, they kind of were—but it was so worth it.

“You win,” breathed DJ Pon-3, and laid her head down to sleep, still entwined with her lover.

Morning After

A hoofbeat sounded, in the hallway.

Lyra blinked, groggily. She was lying on her back. The magic bit had slipped from her mouth in her sleep, and lay against her neck—she moved slightly, and it adhered for a moment before dropping away. Her mouth felt crusty.

The hoofbeat couldn’t be DJ Pon-3, because she was still sprawled across Lyra—except that suddenly, she wasn’t. Lyra oofed as the little Neighponnese mare rolled off her, and watched as she got to her hooves and trotted in a wobbly, sleepy way out of the bedroom.

“You didn’t come home last night!” she said.

Her voice held affectionate accusation, perhaps a hint of a leer. Then—the sound of a little kiss.

Lyra’s face fell. Plummeted, really. Oh, no, no…

“Hmph!” came another voice. “Don’t even sniff me there. You’ve no hope of learning anything, considering the way you reek of sex!”

DJ Pon-3 cackled merrily. “You won’t believe this one…”

Lyra could stand no more. She flipped over, got hooves under her, and rushed out of the bedroom to stand, abject and dismayed, before Vinyl Scratch and the other pony, who could only be Octavia, the cellist.

“I am so, so sorry,” blurted Lyra, “that I slept with your lover!”

Octavia’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. So did Vinyl’s. Then—DJ Pon-3 began laughing, raucously.

“Cute, huh? I have a lot to tell you… Octavia.”

Octavia darted a quick glance at Vinyl. “Oh, really? Learning new tricks, Scr…”

She was cut off by no more than the flicker of a look—Lyra couldn’t be sure if she’d imagined the tiny headshake.

“…tricks, DJ?” said Octavia.

“It’s not me with the tricks!” said DJ Pon-3 proudly. “You have got to try Lyra here out! Some of the things she knows how to do… I’m not making this up, Octavia, this is a must-experience!”

Octavia glanced suspiciously at Lyra, who gulped, reeling and trying to get her bearings.

“I don’t wish to come between you…” said Lyra, and then winced, reminded of her recent betrayal by Mayor Mare. “I… I…”

“I beg your pardon,” said Octavia. “We are not lovers, my dear. We are housemates. And, though it seems mad at times like this, friends…”

DJ Pon-3 grinned. “And friends should share! Right?”

Octavia gave an elegant little shudder, lifting her nose. Lyra caught that, and her eyes narrowed at the insult even as they threatened to tear up from the feelings. To have found such a wonderful, amazing unicorn, and then end up cast off to another earth pony!

Octavia’s glance was knowing. “DJ, you’re offending our guest, who isn’t used to you, as I am. Lyra, is it?”

“Yeah…” said Lyra, truculent and vulnerable at the same time.

“Pray allow me to prepare breakfast for you, Lyra: DJ Pon-3’s cooking is wretched, and it seems you are worthy of celebration. No?”

“I’ll say she is!” said Vinyl, and dangled her tongue, making a foolish grin.

“Enough, you. This way…”

The kitchen, too, was divided. Octavia busied herself in some of the pristine, clean areas while Lyra and DJ Pon-3 made themselves comfortable. “Hurry it up, will ya? I’m hungry!” whined Vinyl, at which Lyra lifted an eyebrow—it seemed awfully rude. Octavia didn’t bat an elegant, dark eyelash at the rudeness, though, but continued with her preparations, serving the two mares omelets and haycakes with a scent so delicious that it almost overpowered the stale odors of the night before.

Vinyl seemed dissatisfied. She picked at her food, and grumbled, “It seems okay… quicker next time!” before diving in, face-first.

“So,” said Octavia, “how did you meet the incomparable DJ Pon-3, Lyra?”

The DJ in question belched crudely, as Lyra replied, “Um, she needed help carrying some things, to a gig…”

“Ah, yes,” said Octavia knowingly. “Couldn’t possibly lift all those record player things herself.”

“She carried them home all by herself!”

“Indeed?” sniffed Octavia.

DJ Pon-3 belched again, and rounded on Octavia angrily. “Hey, get your own roadie!”

Lyra blinked. Roadie?

It hadn’t fazed the elegant grey earth pony one bit. “One pays hirelings…”

“Oh, I pay,” chortled DJ Pon-3. “Heh! heh! When they deserve it!”

Octavia’s eyes narrowed theatrically, and Lyra gulped and said, “It’s been a wonderful breakfast, but…”

“Aww! Don’t you want to stick around and fuck Octavia?” protested DJ Pon-3.

Octavia responded with a haughty glare, and no words at all.

“That’s nice of you, but I just remembered something I needed to do…” said Lyra.

DJ Pon-3 shrugged. “You seriously were awesome—take it from an expert, okay? Don’t forget your dick thingy. And hey—don’t forget to dance!”

Her grin was entrancing, and for a moment, Lyra was torn. That world had offered delicious, incomparable things. But she glanced at Octavia’s slitted eyes, and she knew that no good could come of sticking around for the scene that hovered, threatening to break into full storm. It seemed impossible that the two were lovers, but whatever they were, DJ Pon-3 was in trouble, and probably deserved to be—she was clearly a wild and filthy whorse, some kind of rock star thrown together with a total prude—and Lyra saw the opportunity to get cleanly away, with a night to remember and no ties worth mentioning.

And no kisses—who knew what she might catch? The cock she’d sunk into the famous DJ was, thankfully, composed of magic alone. Though her skilful tongue wasn’t… At any rate, she’d got away with it all, if only she made her escape immediately and tactfully.

“I won’t! I swear I won’t forget! I’ll keep dancing, just like I did for you!”

“Do it, filly,” grinned DJ Pon-3, and Lyra scampered back into the bedroom, hastily threw her bit into the nice saddlebag, wrinkled her nose realizing it was gonna stink of sex for a while from soaking in the bedroom air—and trotted briskly out the door, putting some distance between herself and the sounds of the bitter fight she expected to hear.

Behind her, Octavia and DJ Pon-3 stared grimly at each other, waiting and listening.

“She gone, Tavi?” said DJ Pon-3, finally.

Octavia nodded. “I should think so.”

Vinyl Scratch removed her trademark glasses, and laid them on the table. Leaning over, she kissed her companion sweetly. “Thanks, babe. Do you think I laid it on too thick?”

Octavia shook her head. “I doubt she noticed. Seems full of herself, that one, and there was something in the way she looked at me, Scratchie. Perhaps it was just the evening I spent, predisposing me to see untoward implications…”

“Oh boy,” sighed Vinyl. “All right, tell me. I had a better night, huh? Shit you not, parts of it were excellent…”

A tiny smile played around Octavia’s mouth. “Never said my night was all bad, Scratchie.”

Vinyl’s jaw dropped, and then she grinned and banged the table with a forehoof. “Yes! I knew it the moment I saw you! You didn’t come home ‘cos you got lucky, didn’t you, Tavi? Tell me everything and I mean everything…”

“Surely you’ve more to explain?” objected Octavia. “What were you talking about? I’m not sure how serious you were, Scratchie. That girl had sex with you and it was good? We both know who you really want. Not to put too fine a point on it, is this Lyra a lesbian?”

Vinyl gazed at her for a moment as a smirk transformed her little face, and then burst into helpless giggles.

Octavia tried to scowl, but was smirking as well. “I withdraw the question! But you see my argument? Since when did you turn lesbian, sweetie? Should I be jealous?”

At that, Vinyl went “Awwww…” and kissed her companion again. “Nah. Trust me, nah. There’s only one best mare in the world and that is my darling Tavi. Fucking not included.”

“Oh, Scratchie…”

“And you’d better believe this Lyra is lesbian. Sweet Celestia, Tavi! I’m not sure we shouldn’t go chase her and turn her loose on you for real! I think I understand them better than ever, now.”

“And why shouldn’t you?” said Octavia. “Understand them, I mean. There is nothing so shocking about that. She had fun with you?”

“She had something new—some new kind of dildo. A magical one. Get this: they can feel sensation in this new kind.” Vinyl grinned a wicked grin.

“Oh, ho, ho…”

“Yeah. That’s kind of why I needed your help chasing her off,” admitted Vinyl. “I think I did her pretty damn good—got right into it, it was fantastic—and I don’t want my options closing off in that way. She’s a sweetheart—but yeah, she’s a mare, and young, and it just seems like how could she survive playing second fiddle to another mare I don’t even fuck? It’s just not fair to her.”

Octavia leaned over, and kissed Vinyl’s nose. “Dear Scratchie… you’ll always be my other half, and we’ll find our stallions eventually. Don’t you give up. I quite agree on the cautiousness, however.”

Vinyl smiled—and then her eyes narrowed mischievously. “I sniffed at you for a reason, Tavi. I’m almost sure if it wasn’t for my carousing I’d have smelled something on you. You didn’t come home last night. Define ‘cautiousness’, sweetie, I think you have a story too…”

“Ah,” said Octavia. “I cannot distract you, can I? It’s as well you ask, I confess I wanted to talk to you…”

At that, Vinyl’s expression grew more serious. “So confess. Sounds like things didn’t go well?”

Octavia’s expression was hard to interpret. Smugness, chagrin, amusement… Vinyl waited patiently for her to compose her thoughts, watching as she tapped a hoof on the table.

“After my recital, the tall, powerful pegasus gentleman wished to have coffee with me…”

Vinyl’s jaw dropped. “Oh, fuck you. Seriously, fuck you. Really?”

Octavia nodded, smugly. “Not quite Soarin’, Scratchie, but yes. All of that. Big solid fellow…”

“And by that you mean…”

“Don’t skip ahead,” chided Octavia. She continued, as Vinyl snickered and listened with shining, wide eyes. “And during coffee, the gentleman dropped numerous hints, hints of a provocative nature, nay, suggestive…”

“I’ve taught you how to neigh suggestive,” grinned Vinyl. “You’re saying you put it to good use?”

An amused, yet somehow rueful, smile hovered on Octavia’s lips as she continued. “The gentleman was in a position to appreciate many helpful tips that he never guessed the true origin of… fortunate, as his attitude hinted at a high Canterlot upbringing that scorned the dance clubs…”

“Oh, my GAWWD!” cried Vinyl. “Really? You scored a rich Canterlot pegasus, and you showed him some of my tricks that I taught you? You fucked?”

Octavia couldn’t stop grinning now. She nodded, beaming.

“Details!” demanded Vinyl Scratch.

At that, Octavia winced. “Oh, I shall tell you everything—that’s just it. Not every detail was acceptable, Scratchie. I’ll walk you through it.”

Vinyl listened avidly, wide-eyed, as her dearest friend told her story.

“He’d begun to brush up against me, particularly my flanks, even before we’d retired to his apartment. Which was elegant, Scratchie, you’ve no idea. The value of the table settings alone! But we had no thought for table settings. I could smell his interest—and I daresay he could smell mine.”

“Didja do your winking where he couldn’t see? To work him up?”

Octavia nodded solemnly. “That was astonishing, Scratchie. It really worked. I was afraid he would hear me, hear that little wet noise… I’d cant my hips away and let it happen, winking merrily at the wall or the table-settings, and then when he could see my hindquarters, I’d freeze as best I could and refuse to allow it. The air filled with mare invitation, but he saw no sign of it. It drove him mad, Scratchie! His eyes, they grew wild…”

“Told you so,” said Vinyl. “Uh… I hope you’re not telling me he hurt you? You’ve got to have a sense of the situation if you play those games.”

Octavia shook her head. “He was a perfect gentleman. Sort of. In his mating approach he did nothing one could object to, I promise. We retired to his bedroom.”

“In which there were whips and chains and an altar for sacrificing mares?” teased Vinyl.

“Nothing of the sort. A lovely soft bed—very very soft, in fact. He wished to make love on this bed, but it was simply too squishy and soft, and I requested that we stand.”

“They like that best, usually,” said Vinyl. “They flap, their wings flare up all bold and stuff… damn it, Tavi, I kill you for this! Did he do the whole hungry pegasus humping and flapping thing, she asked yearningly?”

Octavia nodded, solemnly. “I shan’t spin it out, you’ll see why. He was a very thick boy, Scratchie. He mounted me, and yes, he flapped up a whirlwind, and he thrust his massive pegasus erection home. I came, Scratchie, right then and there. I came and I kept on coming the whole time. Unforgettable. In many ways I’m not a bit sorry. I needed that sooooo badly.”

“I know you did,” breathed Vinyl. “Oh, Tavi! I’m so happy for you, honestly, I am—but you’re not finished? What else happened? You’re biting your lip and you look sad.”

Octavia narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I had a wonderful time. I thought I’d scored a real keeper, Scratchie. And then, as he stiffened to delightfully unbearable intensity, about to explode within me…”

Vinyl gasped. “You didn’t forget to eat the dose of herbs this morning? The earth pony’s friend?”

Octavia shook her head hastily. “No, no! I’m not pregnant, Scratchie, it’s not that. Heh… ironically…”

“He wanted to make you pregnant? He got mad when you admitted you were on the herb?”

“No,” said Octavia. “As he flared up and I melted into hitherto unexplored worlds of raw sensual pleasure, he cried out… ‘Mommy’…”

Vinyl blinked.

Octavia stared levelly at her best friend.

“Uh. You know they can say all kinds of stuff at times like that, right?” said Vinyl. “You might be reading too much into that.”

“I haven’t yet told you what he cried when he came inside me,” said Octavia.

Vinyl’s eyes widened. “Maybe you better! What did he say?”

Octavia swallowed. Her mouth twitched downward in dismay. She set her jaw, and she spoke with great, mocking deliberation.

“As he swelled to incredible, mare-melting hardness, throbbed, flapped madly upon me and thrust to my depths, grinding against my posterior, causing me to squeal in wild, savage orgasm… he cried… loudly…”

Octavia gulped.

“He cried… ‘OHHHH, FAT MOMMY HIPS!’.”

She stared levelly at Vinyl, whose jaw dropped in shock and astonishment.

Then, Vinyl Scratch burst into wild, raucous, uncontrollable laughter, while Octavia stared sullenly at nothing, blushing brightly.

She sat, waiting, and in mere moments her friend was clinging to her in a fierce hug, still helpless with hysterics and laugh-induced hiccups. “Oh my GAWD! Oh my gawd oh Tavi poor Tavi! I’m so sorry Tavi! Give me a minute…” she said, still screaming with laughter between words.

Octavia did not weep. She glared, with a grim little smirk at her own humiliation, and hugged Vinyl right back, gratefully.

“No, it’s okay, Scratchie,” she said. “You don’t know how badly I needed to hear you laugh at him like that…”

Vinyl wiped her own tears of mirth, and looked sternly in Octavia’s eyes. “Okay, listen. You are beautiful! Your body is beautiful. I would happily trade with you. Your hips are beautiful. They have good curves, just like your lovely cello. You are a beautiful, wonderful mare, and any stallion would be lucky to have you!”

Octavia sighed, dry-eyed and grim. “Yes, Scratchie. Just… tell me that over again, please?”

Vinyl Scratch shook her best friend, lovingly. “I am! We will have this conversation as many times as we need to, I will never mind having it! Mares are born all different ways. I grew up certain nopony would want me, that’s part of why I learned all those tricks and got so good at fucking. It hasn’t worried me for years and your body should not and will not worry you! I tell you again, you are one beautiful mare, plus you’re a fireball in the sack, am I right? What’d this pegasus guy think? I might add, Tavi, that I crave pegasus stallions, but I wouldn’t have got anywhere with yours. Admit it, you clobbered me, am I right? You could have taken him away, even if I was going for him. Admit it, you beat me!”

Octavia nodded, slowly. “That’s kind of true, Scratchie.”

Vinyl smirked. “You did. Because of your great beauty, those luscious curves and that lovely rump, you pulled a guy that would have turned his nose up at me and you know it. And I’m DJ Pon-3 and pretty good at that stuff. Face it, Tavi—you’re an incredibly sexy mare. Tell me again how he throbbed and flapped.”

At that, Octavia had to laugh. “Ha! You have me there. I nearly killed the poor silly fellow with his own libido. I hope I didn’t hurt his feelings too badly when I left. I suppose he’ll never forget it either. Um… Scratchie, should I have left? I had to. I was going to cry, and that mustn’t ever happen.”

Vinyl stared into space for a moment. “I’m gonna say… yeah, I think you made the right call. Listen, Tavi, just because this guy is crazy about you doesn’t make him the best match. I think it would hurt your feelings to have him yelling ‘fat mommy hips’ at you every time you fuck.”

Octavia winced, and her eyes glistened. Vinyl hugged her, fiercely.

“Sorry! But you see my point? You did right to bail on him. We’ll come up with some tactful way to let him down easy. You supply the tactful, I’ll think up a set of excuses… but I want you to remember something. Maybe he was weird in some ways—but that’s his head, Tavi, and that’s no concern of yours. What did his BODY think of your body?”

Octavia blinked. Then, she smirked, blushing. “Goodness.”

“Yeah,” smirked Vinyl Scratch. “Remember that. You’re super, super hot, just like I always told you. We’ll find you a guy who doesn’t trigger you. One who still goes cross-eyed at that amazing curvy body.”

“I want to be more in shape,” argued Octavia, stubbornly.

“Enough to lay off alfalfa?”

Octavia pouted, and Vinyl gave her another kiss.

“What about you?” said Octavia. “Are you going to respond to Pinkie’s flirtations, now?”

“Nah,” said Vinyl. “She’s business first. And now that she has her steady marefriend…”

Octavia blinked. “Who?”

“Fluttershy—that fashion model? You know. Anyway, Pinkie wasn’t hitting on anypony that I could see.”

“End of an era,” smirked Octavia.

Vinyl cuffed her lightly. “Hey! She looked happy. Besides, don’t joke about that—never fuck the boss.”

Octavia winced. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh! Sorry,” said Vinyl. “I forgot that one time. What a pig, that guy.”

“Well, I got the gig,” said Octavia. She giggled. “Not only that—did I ever tell you this part? Remember how he hooked up with this mare, and I just had to keep playing, watching from the bandstand?”

Vinyl nodded. “Yeah. His come dripping down the inside of your leg, as you bowed faithfully away, a tear in your eye…”

“You’re terrible,” smirked Octavia. “And exaggerating. There was no dripping. Or tears. But remember how another mare took him away even before my set was over? I don’t think I ever told you this, Scratchie—but she raged at him! She raged, and splattered cake all over him! And I watched it all from the bandstand.”

Vinyl laughed, and Octavia continued, triumphantly. “And I played that trombone thing, on my cello! I’m sure nopony heard it, but I played it all the same!”

“…trombone thing?”

Octavia smiled a transcendently happy smile. “Mwaahhh… mwaaahh… mwaah…”

“MWAAAAHHHH!” the two ponies finished, in unison, and burst into laughter.

Octavia settled back, shifting in her seat a bit, for her plump cozy marehood twinged gently from happy exercise—and she smiled at her best friend in all Equestria.

“And… I got paid for it.”

Vinyl Scratch grinned back. “Best night EVER!”

“I just want to know,” said Pinkie Pie, “why Lyra was hooking up with Vinyl Scratch?”

“Who?” asked Fluttershy, lounging on their bed.

“Oh. DJ Pon-3, you know! The DJ who worked my party, Midnight Sugar! Remember?”

“You know I went to bed early, Pinkie. I get tired so easily now…”

“I can give you some more energy food?” said Pinkie hopefully.

Fluttershy shook her head. “I don’t think that stuff counts as energy food, Pinkie. Thank you ever so much for it, and it’s delicious, but it’s only making me fat.”

Pinkie hmphed. “You’re pregnant! You’re supposed to get fat!”

“I’m not sure you quite understand. It’s not about getting fat, Pinkie,” said Fluttershy. “I hate to think of Rainbow Dash’s response to all this, she’s probably falling apart completely since she can’t exercise and race. Um. I hope she’s not racing… I should not make assumptions, for all I know she is trying to maintain her figure, and she mustn’t! Our bodies are taking on a deep and meaningful burden. They must reshape themselves to support this burden, something I doubt Rainbow Dash understands. And it is not simply ‘getting fat’!”

“Mrs. Cake got fat!”

“Mrs. Cake is not a pegasus,” said Fluttershy stubbornly. “It’s beginning to hurt me to fly, and what if I need to? I am sorry, but we have got to eat a larger variety of foods, and not so many sweet things.”

“Aw! But…”

“Pinkie!” said Fluttershy reprovingly, and her mate backed down. Fluttershy eyed her, and nodded. “Thank you. I feel like I have to teach all of us what mothering is really about, and I need your support—especially if I must scold Rainbow and teach her how to behave. That will be very difficult.”

“Okay, okay!” said Pinkie.

“Sometimes I think the only pony who really understands my point of view is Rarity,” sighed Fluttershy. “I suppose it’s all the time we’ve spent at the spa together. She knows just how I feel, without fail, and she is ever so kind even though there are whip marks on her bottom that she tries to conceal. And I never knew she was so into, er, cunnilingus—I suppose one learns new things when one forms new intimate relationships?”

“I thought Rarity just wanted stallions! And anyway I was talking about Lyra. And DJ Pon-3. I didn’t know she swung that way—or,” corrected Pinkie, “I didn’t think that was what she liked. Since when is DJ Pon-3 a lesbian? And how could Lyra possibly be hooking up with her? Bon Bon will be so hurt!”

Fluttershy’s eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t think so. And if this DJ is a straight mare, now I know what happened to that bit. You know, one of the magic ones?”

Pinkie blinked. “Sure I do. What does that have to do with it?”

“Lyra kept theirs. She must have offered to use it on the DJ, this Pon-3. Doesn’t that make sense?” Fluttershy looked fretful for a moment. “I saw her with it once, remember. It looked… functional. Unlike, well…”

“Don’t you fret, Fluttershy! I won’t ever ask you to use yours. What did you even do with it, anyway? Silly Twilight, giving you such a present.”

Fluttershy shook her head, fluffing out her wings distractedly. “Oh, I put it somewhere. I really don’t care. It’s in my house, I think. Stupid thing!”

“Go back a little, prettyclitty,” said Pinkie Pie. Her eyes were worried. “You said, ‘Lyra kept theirs’. What would make you say that? You said it like they were… dividing stuff up. Why are you talking like Lyra and Bon Bon broke up? It seems like only yesterday that I helped them make up with each other. Um… in my special way.”

Fluttershy looked at her. “But they have. I’m sorry, was that not a public thing? Bon Bon is with Mayor Mare now. Lyra doesn’t live there anymore. I’m not sure where she went.”

Pinkie’s jaw dropped. “Oh, no! Fluttershy, this is terrible! How can you just say that, and not even care?”

Fluttershy shrugged, looking sulky again. “It’s all the same to me. Ponies have always run around, having lots of sex and then betraying each other. I could tell from the sex Bon Bon had with Mayor Mare, compared to how it was with Lyra. Mayor Mare made her smile. They kissed. They snuggled. I’m not surprised what happened. If you ask my opinion, I would say that Lyra is a greedy, selfish mare.” She looked down, abruptly. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

Pinkie stared, and Fluttershy glanced up to meet her gaze, and looked away again, blushing. It wasn’t exactly a happy blush. Fluttershy had seen the look of dismay on Pinkie’s face, as Pinkie figured things out, and both ponies began to look a little resentful.

“How often have you been watching them, Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy mumbled.

“No,” said Pinkie, “the thing is, I thought that since you have me, you wouldn’t need to do that stuff so much anymore. Is that why you’re upset about not flying so well, now?”

The butter-yellow pegasus, crimson in the face, wouldn’t meet her eye.

“You’ve been spying on them so much that you have opinions on which pony is better for Bon Bon,” accused Pinkie Pie.

Fluttershy nodded, reluctantly. She shifted, the bed creaking under her pregnant bulk.

“Oh, Fluttershy…”

“Don’t you judge me,” hissed Fluttershy, and Pinkie’s eyes widened.

“Oh, Fluttershy!” she said, with more chagrin. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings! I love you, you know that, you silly! I just… should I be taking care of you more? Like, do you need more attention? I kinda thought I had you pretty well set up!”

Fluttershy glowered at the bedspread. She hesitated, and Pinkie gulped and went quiet, waiting… and when Fluttershy spoke again, it was with the cynical, bitter anger she usually repressed, seeping out like she didn’t care to bottle it any more.

“I ‘kinda thought’ you loved me for who I really am, Pinkie Pie.”

She pouted, refusing to look at her mate, for she was riding a wave of righteous vexation and knew what she would see—the quivering lip, the eyes brimming with tears, the voice…

“I’m sorry, Fluttershy… I’m so sorry, please look at me? Please?”

Fluttershy relented. Her huge, beautiful eyes lifted to meet Pinkie’s, and she pouted worse and set her jaw. “You did say that. You did.”

Pinkie gulped. “And I do. It just surprised me. I know you like to watch ponies have sex, it never bothered me. I… why didn’t you tell me? You could’ve told me?”

Fluttershy shook her head, but it didn’t seem to be at Pinkie—she seemed annoyed with herself. “That was always just for me. I didn’t tell you because it was all mine, the watching. I suppose I could have. Oh, Pinkie, don’t cry. It’s just important. I still like the same things I used to like, that’s all. You better not take them from me.”

Pinkie blinked away tears. “I’m sorry! Can I have a kiss?”

Fluttershy’s eyes melted. “Of course you may!” She inclined her head, and in a moment, Pinkie’s lips were pressed to hers, warm and intimate—and Fluttershy kissed back, earnestly.

When their lips parted, Pinkie’s eyes glowed with love—and Fluttershy looked vexed again.

“Are you okay?” said Pinkie. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

“No, no,” said Fluttershy. “I just… Lyra. It takes one to know one, I suppose. I really must be more charitable about Lyra. I am every bit as bad when I’m not careful.”

“You’re not the slightest bit bad, you chubby wubby cuddlewuddlesons!”

Fluttershy’s wings lifted a bit at the effusive cozy-talk, but she wore a serious look, and frowned gently. “It’s kind of you to say it, but it’s also foolish and soppy and I mustn’t listen or it will do us harm. I tell you again, Pinkie Pie, I must be less judgemental about Lyra. I’ve watched her manipulative, selfish ways, and very likely the reason I disapprove of her is because I share them.” She gulped. “In fact, I manipulate you dreadfully, and you give in to it every time.”

“I’m sorry!” said Pinkie. “How should I…” She stopped, and made a face. “Wait a minute…”

Fluttershy smirked. “That’s good. You’re learning.” A hint of her darker side shone through as she grinned at her so-very-solicitous lover. “You’re a pushover. If I make you insecure, I can make you do anything I want. You must admit that’s very mean and selfish. See? I’m a bad girl, I told you so.” She stuck out her tongue at Pinkie.

“So…” said Pinkie, “if you’re a bad girl for being manipulative, then… aha! Fluttershy, you are getting a spanking! Grrrr!”

Fluttershy gulped. Her wings rose higher. “If… you really need to…”

Pinkie stopped. “But with the… Fluttershy, does that idea turn you on? Me thwacking that quivering rump with my hoof? Scolding you for being a bad girl?”

Fluttershy was blushing again, looking away. “…maybe?”

Pinkie narrowed her eyes. “Fluttershy!”

“Yes!” admitted Fluttershy. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it! It’s probably because I don’t think I’ll ever really lose you. Because I could just manipulate you back! Oh dear—isn’t that a horrible thought? Oh, I make everything so complicated, I’m just awful…”

Pinkie sat back, considering, for a moment. Flutty-wutty had been up to naughty things, spying on Lyra and Bon Bon—or, indeed, Bon Bon and Mayor Mare—and forming harsh judgements about them all. Fluttershy disapproved of Lyra for selfishly using Bon Bon for her own pleasures, but then doubted herself, suspecting her own similar motives with Pinkie, and tied herself in knots of shame and guilt, wrapping her mate around her hoof and then hating herself for her willingness to demand everything from the ever-giving Pinkie… and all without talking about it to anypony.

So—exactly the same mare Fluttershy had been all along, and exactly the same mare Pinkie had fallen in love with and fathered a foal with. And… exactly the same emotional outbursts that Rarity had taken her aside and warned her about, when Fluttershy wasn’t looking. Right on schedule, too.

Pinkie leaned over, and kissed her mysterious and complicated lover tenderly. “You’ll be fine. Just the way you are.”

At this, Fluttershy’s eyes teared up, and the wildly swinging emotions lurched over to weepy sentimentality. “Pinkie…”

“About that spanking?” said Pinkie.

Fluttershy’s eyes widened, filled with confusion.

Pinkie kissed her again, and gave her a stern look. “You don’t get to decide. I think a certain bad girl needs to settle down. And feel loved—and behave herself.”

Fluttershy’s lip quivered, and then she scooched over on the bed and nestled against Pinkie, her soft pony curves trembling all over as Pinkie stroked her body with a firm, guiding hoof.

“So… Bon Bon broke up with Lyra, huh?”

Fluttershy nodded. Her eyes widened. “Ohhh… I just remembered how attractive you find Lyra!”

She eeped, as Pinkie’s hoof smacked her bottom.

“Nuh-uh! I’m going to give her some space, snuggywuggy. You don’t know everything, as clever as you are. When you play with ponies a lot, sometimes it’s easier and safer when they’re already in pairs. If I swept her off her hooves with some tongue-crobatics, she might get attached.”

“You could start a collection,” said Fluttershy. “Your favorite pegasus, and your favorite unicorn…” She eeped again, as another spank rippled her buttery posterior.

“Fluttershy?”

“…yes? And before you say anything, I’ve watched you watching her. So there.”

“I’m not denying that, Fluttershy,” said Pinkie. “I just want you to think about something. I’m pretty eager, right? And I love sex a whole bunch, right? And I’m good at giving ponies lots and lots of pleasure, right?”

Fluttershy looked suspicious. “These are all reasons you’d go make Lyra your willing slave. Like me. Slave for, and of, your pleasure. What is your point?”

“How greedy am I,” challenged Pinkie, “about demanding love back?”

Fluttershy blinked. “Well, there was that donkey—but you weren’t sleeping with him that I ever saw, he’s with that other donkey. They’re strictly ‘try weekly’, poor things, his hips bother him so he’s not much good at thrusting. There’s Rainbow Dash of course, but you don’t seem to pursue her anymore and I really thought you might, even now. There’s… um… I can’t think of anypony, lately?”

She looked at Pinkie, wonder in her eyes.

“It goes both ways, Fluttershy,” said Pinkie. “Maybe you’re a naughty pony—but you’ve got me. And maybe you can manipulate me a little—but I know I’ve got you. You wanted my foal. I can handle a little bad-girl stuff if it means I have your love.”

Fluttershy’s lip quivered.

“You wanted to know if you could be my number one pony,” said Pinkie. “But there never was one until you came along. It was me, keeping happy by putting a lot of pleasure out into the world. I was, like, opposite-you. You were lonely watching ponies have orgies without you. Well, I sometimes got lonely while ponies had orgies with me. I did great stuff to them, but they always seemed to pair off with somepony else, know what I mean? I was a good memory, a special occasion. It made me happy ‘cos you gotta be happy with what ya got!”

Fluttershy couldn’t look away. “How could you be lonely? That’s crazy!” she said.

Pinkie fixed her with an exasperated look. “Like I said, you’re great at watching ponies fuck, but you’re a silly billy as far as SEEING who ponies really are. When I got you, I got somepony who won’t ever be tired of me fussing over her wonderfulness. I don’t have to hold back, Fluttershy, not ever. You can take all of me.” She smirked. “Even in some special Pinkie ways.”

Fluttershy’s eyes grew wider and wider.

“So you come around, so sweet and lonely and secretly sad and bitter, and I’m not sad but I just don’t ever get to give myself completely to anypony because I’m kinda too much, you know? Except with you, I’m not too much. You’re greedy and starved for affection and everything about you just says more, more, more. And I’m all about more more MORE!”

Pinkie’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “And now you’re actually worried that you’re too needy?”

Fluttershy’s huge, beautiful eyes filled with tears, and she flung herself awkwardly into Pinkie’s embrace, sobbing and quivering as Pinkie stroked and petted her.

“You see?” said Pinkie. “I do know you, after all.”

“So I guess you’re all wondering why I’ve asked you here today,” said Scootaloo, importantly.

“Naw,” said Apple Bloom.

“It’s our clubhouse,” pointed out Sweetie Belle. “Where else would we be?”

“Our SECRET clubhouse,” said Scootaloo.

“And how kin it be a secret clubhouse,” said Apple Bloom, “when it’s th’ same one my big sister had all them years ago?”

Scootaloo glared at her. “Well, it can turn into a secret clubhouse when it’s a clubhouse for telling secrets in! Duhh!”

Apple Bloom blinked. “Oh, no. No no. Consarn it, Scootaloo! We ain’t gettin’ into that there business again!”

Sweetie Belle waved her hooves. “Let her talk, Apple Bloom! We don’t even know what she’s going to tell us! You don’t know that it’s about the making babies stuff! Do you?”

Apple Bloom stared suspiciously at Scootaloo, then at Sweetie Belle. “Happens I don’t…”

“Well then!” said Sweetie Belle. “Scootaloo, please continue.”

“Thank you, Sweetie Belle,” said Scootaloo. She cleared her throat. “It’s about the making babies stuff.”

Apple Bloom face-hoofed. “Scootaloo! Ah told you…”

“No, listen, Apple Bloom! Listen, okay?” demanded Scootaloo. “I know you told us your big sister has a magic bit thing that turns mares into stallions…”

“Like hell! I never did, and furthermore there ain’t no such thing no-how! An’ even if there was, I ain’t stealin’ it! Stealing is wrong!”

Scootaloo stuck out her lower lip in a deadly pout. “Sooooo… you refuse to steal it from the broom closet? Still?”

“Naw, I refuse ta steal it from th’ dresser drawer,” objected Apple Bloom, and did a double-take. “On account of it doesn’t exist!” She glared at Scootaloo, who smirked back.

“The dresser drawer doesn’t exist?” said Sweetie Belle in a little voice, but they ignored her.

“Well,” said Scootaloo, “what would you say, Apple Bloom, if I told you there was another one?” She sat back, smugly, forelegs folded.

“Who told you that?”

Scootaloo’s grin got wider and wider. “I SAW it. It was the same mare you tried to talk to, before—Lyra. I’m faster than anypony, and I caught her, and she told me all about it and she showed me it, and you got a lot of stuff totally wrong, Apple Bloom.”

“Did not!”

“Did so!” retorted Scootaloo.

“Don’t fight!” begged Sweetie Belle. She glared at both her friends. “This is no time to start hitting!”

“Cos you’d lose!” said Apple Bloom.

“Would not!”

“Girls, please!” snapped Sweetie. “This is serious! We need to have Scootaloo explain what she means. Aren’t you happy we don’t have to steal anything that’s Applejack’s property, Apple Bloom?”

At that, Apple Bloom backed off—a bit. “Well, yeah. But Scootaloo’s gotta take it back, what she said!”

“First things first,” said Sweetie Belle. “Scootaloo, describe the magic bit thing for us.”

“Gladly!” said Scootaloo. She took a deep breath. “It’s small. And it’s magic. And it looks like a bit, made outta metal.”

“How you know it’s magic?” challenged Apple Bloom.

“What else would it be? Dildo!” mocked Scootaloo.

The other two ponies blinked at her. “Huh?” said Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo glowered. Lyra had been wrong, that wasn’t a useful insult yet.

She rallied. “Miss Lyra told me everything. Everything! She has one of these things, Applejack has one, she says Twilight and Trixie and Rarity have one, Fluttershy…”

Apple Bloom smirked. “My sister’s a girl! You left out Rainbow Dash. If anypony is turn’t to a boy pony it should be Rainbow Dash. What if Rainbow Dash has a penis?”

“You shut up!” yelled Scootaloo.

“Rainbow Dash has a penis, Rainbow Dash has a penis…”

Sweetie Belle rushed over and physically interposed herself between her two companions. “Stop it! Stop that! Apple Bloom, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, it’s Rainbow Dash who is pregnant with a foal!”

“Don’t mean she cain’t also have no penis if she wanted. It’s magic, right? Ain’t that the phrase? ‘It’s magic, I ain’t gotta explain shit’?”

The three Cutie Mark Crusaders blinked at each other, trying to remember where they’d heard that phrase.

“Oh, right,” said Scootaloo, “that was Twilight Sparkle. When she was cranky.”

“Applejack done give her a big-sister look,” added Apple Bloom proudly. “She said she was sorry, right quick!”

“We’re losing track of the subject,” said Sweetie Belle. “I want to know what Scootaloo learned!”

Apple Bloom looked at her suspiciously. “How come you’re so hot to know Scootaloo’s dumb story?”

“It’s not a dumb story! Lyra told me all the grown-up secrets!”

“Well, if they’re grown up secrets, then we ain’t grown-ups, so you kin shut up!”

“Oh, right,” said Scootaloo scornfully. “What, are we gonna let the grown-ups tell us what to do?”

“Um, YEAH?” said Apple Bloom. “That’s what they’re for, Scootaloo! No deal!”

“Nopony is making a deal!” objected Sweetie. “Cutie Mark Crusader Baby Makers are in session! We’re just hearing Scootaloo’s story, not doing anything else about it, okay? Settle down, Apple Bloom. Scootaloo, please continue.”

“Okay,” said Scootaloo, and stopped. She looked at Sweetie. “Uh—where do I start?”

Sweetie pondered this. “Maybe start with what parts Apple Bloom got all wrong?”

“Aw for PETE’S SAKE!” yelled Apple Bloom, but this time Sweetie was the one to get in her face.

“Settle down! When we get stuff wrong, we learn better and we mend our ways! We mend our attitudes and we try again. I learned that from MY big sister Rarity. Now, Scootaloo, what did Lyra say?”

Scootaloo flapped, vaguely, with her little wings. She looked off balance. “It kinda happened so fast. She was all saying stuff and then she ran off to get somepony to use the magic bit on her. She said that was what she really, really wanted.”

“We saw things about sex at Sweet Apple Acres,” said Sweetie. “What parts of that were wrong? How could they even be wrong when we saw them ourselves?”

“Oh!” squeaked Scootaloo. “Right! I asked if the penis is like what we saw with the pigs.”

“It ain’t?” challenged Apple Bloom.

“Nope! It’s bigger.”

“How much bigger?” demanded Apple Bloom.

“A lot bigger, that’s how much!”

“You’re makin’ it up! We’d see somethin’ a lot bigger if it was on the colts!”

Scootaloo glowered at her. “I am not! Miss Lyra said it was a lot bigger. A lot a lot bigger! That’s exactly what she said. She went like this,” said Scootaloo, made an expression of shock and astonishment, “and she said it’s a lot bigger, a lot a lot bigger!”

“Oh yeah?” challenged Apple Bloom. “If it’s so consarned big, what do they do with it?”

“Same thing!” said Scootaloo. “She said we had that part right!”

“Yeah, well, here’s the thing, Scootaloo, you idiot,” said Apple Bloom. “I could see fittin’ them pig penises ‘cos they’re skinny, but how you gonna fit something lots bigger in your va-jay-jay?”

That stopped Scootaloo. “She didn’t say. I am not an idiot, Apple Bloom! I asked if it hurt, duh! I’m just telling you what she said!”

Sweetie Belle looked pale, even for a white unicorn filly. “What did she say about that, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo gulped. “She looked at me like I was crazy. She said it felt… f-word awesome.” Scootaloo glanced back and forth between her shocked friends. “She said she was gonna kick holes in walls to get some of that action. Maybe she’s just a crazy pony? Like, maybe she also likes sticking her hoof in fires and running into walls head-first?”

“Naw,” said Apple Bloom, who also looked pale. “That there pony’s a unicorn, her horn would bust off.”

Sweetie Belle squealed. “Apple Bloom!” She covered her little horn with her hooves, wincing.

“Or maybe it’d stick in the wall!” smirked Scootaloo, joining in the teasing.

“Ew, stop it!” wailed Sweetie.

Apple Bloom smirked, unable to resist the game. “An’ while stuck in the wall, she’d get some pony to use her magic toy, and grow a great big penis, big as your head…”

Sweetie made waving gestures with her hooves, in dismay.

“And then he’d SHOVE it right into her va-jay-jay,” snickered Scootaloo, “it would feel awesome! That’s what she said!”

“EnOUGH!” squeaked Sweetie Belle, and both her companions winced, for she’d hit one of those notes that made dust fall from the ceiling again.

The three Crusaders sat back on their haunches and looked at each other.

“It does sound pretty crazy,” admitted Scootaloo.

“Ya think?”

“Please, don’t talk about it any more,” begged Sweetie. “I feel sick!”

“Well, it was you that wanted ta find out all that stuff!” said Apple Bloom.

“Yes, but that was before it got super gross!” said Sweetie, distraught. “I can’t even describe how sick I feel!”

“Aww. Well, I guess we learnt somethin’ new today, anyhow,” said Apple Bloom, smiling at Scootaloo. “Good job, Crusader! We learned that mah farm learnin’ ain’t wrong…”

“And that pony penises are bigger than pig ones, maybe a lot bigger,” said Scootaloo.

“And that Lyra is crazy!” concluded Apple Bloom. “I reckon we’re lucky if ya think about it. There still ain’t no magic thing in my sister’s dresser. You saw Lyra’s bit thing, Scootaloo? Really?”

“Yes I did!”

“You din’t steal it? ‘Cos that would be bad. Do we understand each other?”

Scootaloo sulked. “No, I didn’t steal it. She was carrying it around in a saddlebag. It’s not like anypony would leave these things lying around. I never saw one before.”

“Good,” said Sweetie Belle. She shuddered.

“You okay, Sweetie Belle?” asked Apple Bloom. “You look off-color. Hah, like you even got a color to be off! Smell funny, too.”

“Yeah,” said Scootaloo, “I didn’t mean to upset you! I was just teasing, you know that, right?”

“No, it’s okay,” said Sweetie. “I think… maybe we shouldn’t be talking about this stuff? It seemed like it would be a lot of fun but it’s starting to feel so gross and weird…”

“All righty,” said Apple Bloom loyally. “How about y’all come over to my house? Applejack made a pie, and maybe Rainbow Dash ain’t eaten it all up yet.”

The Cutie Mark Crusader Baby Makers brightened, and filly hooves clattered in a mad charge for the door, leaving a cloud of settling dust…

…and exactly one small, unnoticed, wet spot on the clubhouse floor.

Where Unicorns Dare

Princess Celestia smiled. “It is such a blessing to share your lives in this way, my little ponies. I must express again my deepest gratitude for the indulgence. I know it must seem quite silly, but I assure you, it is anything but.”

“Aw, Princess…” smiled Applejack. “Nothin’ silly about it. You’re a pony too, ain’tcha?”

Twilight choked on her alfalfa crisp, but Princess Celestia only smiled more, the corners of her eyes crinkling up. “And you are a wise pony, dear Applejack. Indeed, that is exactly the point: it is well for me to remember it.”

Dusk’s fading light lingered outside the windows of Sweet Apple Acres as Twilight, Applejack and Princess Celestia settled in for the evening—one of many, for the Princess had taken to visiting constantly, sometimes more than once a week, with every sign of pleasure in their company.

“Happens I wanted to talk to you about somethin’ like that,” said Applejack. “Maybe before our lil’ soiree gets goin’. I’ve spoke with Twilight about it now an’ then.”

“Oh, you mustn’t!” said Twilight, glancing fearfully at the Princess. “Things are settled now!”

“Ah must,” said Applejack. “Don’t you fret, Twi, ain’t no harm in askin’. Now then, Princess… do ya really think it’s good for Princess Luna to be all kept away from ponies?”

Twilight winced, plainly seeing the question as a gaffe. Celestia stared, wide-eyed, and Applejack stared right back, not unsympathetically, but with a certain determination.

“Do you see me as in some way confining her?” asked Celestia. “Or, perhaps, you disagree with the decisions we have made? I would like to understand your feelings more clearly before I answer.”

Applejack pouted. “Aw—I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. I ain’t judgin’ ya, Princess, honest I ain’t. I jes’ got this gut feelin’, know what I mean? And more’n that… seems to me that maybe you’re comin’ here and spendin’ time with us so you can git in touch with your own gut feelin’s?”

She directed a shrewd gaze at the Princess, while Twilight cringed.

“You’ve thought about this quite a bit, haven’t you?” said Princess Celestia.

“Hah! Ah was right!”

At this, Celestia laughed. “Oh, no! It is an endearing thought, this idea that you ponies would bring me to an understanding of the simple things. More than that, it speaks well of you, Applejack, that you strive to understand the needs and motives of others. Please do not pout, I don’t wish to hurt your feelings. But I’ve been in touch with these ‘gut feelings’ you speak of, for thousands of years, my dear little pony.”

Applejack shook off the sulky look more readily than Twilight. “Well then—I’m sure we’re not complainin’, but if it ain’t common sense you’re after, how come you’re visitin’ us so often?”

“Which question do you wish answered?” said Celestia. “The question about why Princess Luna remains confined to her room, or the question about why I am,” and she chuckled, “under-hoof so much lately?”

“Don’t badger Princess Celestia so much, Applejack!” pleaded Twilight.

Applejack didn’t listen. “Both!” she said. “On account of, I care about you both! Oh, hush, Twilight, if she don’t like it she can go hang out in Canterlot like she useta. I honestly want to know. They kinda go together. What if Princess Luna’d been spendin’ time with us? Maybe she wouldn’a gone to th’ bad!”

Twilight gasped, but Applejack was undaunted, watching her Princess attentively.

Celestia nodded, once, and spoke.

“We may never know that, Applejack. Perhaps you are right. I understand your concern for my sister’s well-being: I share it. However, you must understand in turn that it is Luna who remains her own strictest guardian. If it is her jailer you seek, you would have to take it up with her. And she will not see you, or your friends. She feels she has done damage enough.”

Applejack’s eyes widened with dismay, then dropped. “But…”

“Hear me, Applejack,” said Celestia earnestly. “My sister is headstrong, wilful. She seized our Twilight’s marefriend, simply because I disapproved of the union—a judgement I have now recanted, I might add! She sought to claim Twilight’s Trixie for her own, asking nopony’s consent, and she became… entangled…”

The Princess trailed off, with a sharp sidelong glance at Twilight, whose discomfort had only worsened—and when she resumed, it was in crisp, curt words. “Luna has done damage enough. She’s as old as I am, nearly, and she is no fool once she is thinking with brain rather than wings and horn. It may be that you can visit her one day, Applejack, though that is asking a great deal of her…”

“We all done crazy things at times!” protested Applejack. “She’s jes’ better at it on account of all that alicorny goodness, you know what I mean?”

Celestia silenced Applejack with a look. “She has told me more than once of how she felled you with a thought. You and your friends charged her to rescue Trixie. She laid you low, in an enchanted sleep, and allowed your marefriend Rainbow Dash to believe for a few terrible minutes that she had killed you, all in the hopes of nonviolently defeating the lot of you and wiping your memories of the event. She very nearly succeeded, Applejack, but now she cannot sleep nights because she keeps seeing your Rainbow Dash, looking up from where she was clinging to your motionless body, and begging to be reunited with you in death.”

Applejack’s lip quivered, and she looked stunned.

“Please do not force yourself upon my sister,” said Celestia, “before she is ready to see you. Your forgiveness is a beautiful thing. My sister is not permitting herself beautiful things at this time. I assure you, I am not the tyrant here, even of her punishment. I listen to her guilt, and we work toward her redemption. If you wish, I’ll keep you informed of her progress.”

Applejack gulped. “My sakes. Yes. Yes please, let us know if there’s anythin’ we can do to help.”

Celestia’s eyes were sad. “I hope you live to see it. Our minds are fearfully powerful, but the strength of maturity does not easily adopt the flexibility of youth. Luna has more than once acted out and lived to regret it. I would say that she is adamant that she will not offend the world again with misbehavior, and so she exiles herself for your good and her own. Give us time. You know we are not lacking in that.”

Applejack hung her head. “All right.”

“If you like, I can try to ensure that she comes out of it within your lifetime, though that will be more difficult for her. Perhaps that is why she appears to wait. Your children may have better luck with her than you do—or their children, in turn.”

Applejack glanced at Twilight, whose distress was apparent, and nodded. “All righty. And time we changed th’ subject, before Dashie comes home from work and th’ others arrive. Oh! How about this? How come y’all visiting so often? I still can’t quite believe Rarity won’t be with us this time, even if she showed up th’ last three nights you visited…”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she heard the direction the question was turning. “She’s busy! Lot of work to do, you know how it is?”

“That I surely do,” admitted Applejack. “None better. Good thing our Princess is about as rare as a hard-on in a whorehouse these days.” Her eyes bugged out as she realized what she’d just said, and she began to sputter, just as Celestia burst out laughing.

“Applejack!” cried Twilight, but she smirked dreadfully. The distraction was convenient. It saved Twilight from explaining that Rarity’s preoccupation was more to do with caring for a cut across one eye—gained in an intense scene with Trixie and a whip—and planning a certain payback, earned in that scene. A payback long-awaited, a payback that required Twilight’s assistance… and one that would not be best prepared for, through a social evening with Princess Celestia.

Twilight wondered for a moment why she, herself, found it easier to flit from the one world to the other—but then, she had no choice, for she would not seek to avoid Celestia, whatever she planned to do with the rest of her evening.

The Princess was still chuckling as she sought to answer Applejack. “In some ways it’s no change of subject… among other things, I mean that your company soothes me and helps me forget the demands of my life, for a time. Perhaps there is some truth to your notion after all! You ponies can remind me of common pleasures. For instance, your wonderful alfalfa crisps!”

Applejack beamed. “Pinkie’s bringin’ dessert! In fact… yep! Here they come now!”

They looked out the window, to see Pinkie trotting up, balancing a huge cake on her head, her gait astonishingly bouncy despite the task—and, following her, Fluttershy, who walked with solemn, deliberate steps, balancing several bowls on her back and wings.

“Awwww…” said Twilight, charmed.

“Ain’t that jes’ like them?” agreed Applejack. “Pinkie’s got the candy and cake, and Fluttershy’s gone all health-food. Mind you, flower petals ain’t rightly health food, but I’m lookin’ forward to ‘em anyhow… say, looky there! Rainbow’s home!”

In the darkening sky, a blue dot moved. The ponies peered out the window and waved up at her, and outside, Fluttershy and Pinkie became aware of their approaching companion.

“Hey, Dashie!” called Pinkie Pie, while Fluttershy bit her lip in anxiety.

“Coming!” replied the faint voice from high above—and with that, her wings folded, and the round blue dot began to drop.

Fluttershy shrank back, shaking her head, staring up in horror as Dash plummeted toward them. She whimpered, “Oh, no, no…” and then, as Pinkie began to turn toward her, Fluttershy began to scream shrilly.

Applejack bolted towards the door, and had just made it outside when Rainbow hit. Not, as Fluttershy feared, with a physical splat—but in some ways it made nearly as much of a mess.

At a shockingly low altitude, Rainbow Dash’s mighty wings snapped out and roared to life, her teeth gritting with the effort as she blasted away at full thrust, breaking her doomed fall with a frenzy of mad flapping. It blew Applejack’s hat off, and Pinkie struggled to keep her cake balanced. Fluttershy had no such luck. The air filled with a storm of delicious flower petals, and one of Fluttershy’s bowls flipped right over and landed upside down on the ground as she screamed.

Dash’s hooves lightly touched wildly whipping grass, and just like that, it was over—her flapping ceased, her wings folded, and her expression was rueful. “Uh… sorry about that, Fluttershy.”

“Dang, honey!” said Applejack. “You still got it, huh?” She trotted forward and kissed her marefriend, then turned to Fluttershy. “Here, I got that, sorry about th’ other one,” she said, taking the rim of a partly emptied bowl of flower petals in her teeth.

Twilight and Princess Celestia joined them, Twilight’s horn glowing as she replaced Applejack’s hat and relieved Fluttershy of the rest of her burden.

“Well!” said Celestia. “You certainly know how to make an entrance, Rainbow Dash!”

Dash panted. She stretched her wings out, wincing. “Kinda pushed it. I would’ve come in more to the side, Fluttershy, but by the time I saw what you were carrying, it was too late. I didn’t mean to…”

“How dare you?” demanded Fluttershy. “Rainbow Dash! How dare you?”

“Hey! It’s just flower petals! I like them too, but I’ll get you more!” protested Dash.

Fluttershy’s glare was fearsome. “It is not the food that concerns me! You are pregnant!”

Dash stretched her wings out again. “Ya think? Ow! I… ow… noticed.”

“I thought you were sure to crash! Do I have to watch you every minute? To prevent you from doing such things? You are carrying a foal right now, and yet you endanger yourself and the foal with ridiculous showing off! You’re gonna stop it, Rainbow Dash, if I have to sit on you to make you stop it. Maybe it escaped your attention, but my foal and your foal will have important things in common, and I won’t have you risking the safety of what could be the only friend my foal will have!”

This pronouncement led to a singular response—a dropping of jaw common to pegasus, earth pony, unicorn, and even alicorn Princess. Rainbow Dash, on top of that, looked furious. After the shared moment of utter shock, Applejack spoke for all present. “The hell, Fluttershy? That’s crazy talk! Everypony’s gonna love your baby!”

Fluttershy kicked at the dirt with a forehoof, pouting. “I only thought…”

“Yeah, I know what you were thinking,” said Rainbow, “and you need to get over it! Nobody on Weather Patrol is giving me any trouble now, not even Flight Lightning. They all know I’m having an earth pony for my baby and you know what? They don’t even care. And that’s Weather Patrol, Fluttershy! It doesn’t get much more pegasus than Weather Patrol!”

“Well,” said Fluttershy stubbornly, “if I have to get over my worries about my foal being treated like I was, then you have to get over being on Weather Patrol. You have to take maternity leave, Rainbow Dash. You should have done it long ago. I don’t know how you even fly anymore. I haven’t flown for weeks, I’m so big.”

Pinkie Pie chimed in, loyally. “She’s right, Dashie. You can’t act all the same old ways. Not for a little while, anyway!”

Rainbow glared. “Funny you should mention it. I’m sorry about blowing dinner around, but my landings are better than ever! You do realize that if I just sit around, that new wing strength will atrophy? Do you know how much I’m looking forward to ripping a hole in the sky with these new flying abilities and, like, half the wing loading?”

Applejack cleared her throat. “An’ I’m real proud of you for it, darlin’… but you know, there is something in what they say.”

Dash whirled. “Oh, not you too! I expect you to back me up, okay?”

“An’ I do!” protested Applejack. “I ain’t said word one, and ya know it’s my foal too! But… well, din’t it kinda hurt, doin’ that? It looked like that landin’ hurt you.”

“No, of course not,” said Rainbow, glowering and refusing to meet anypony’s eyes.

Applejack wasn’t a total fool. “Um… all righty then! We’ll talk about it some other time. Like, if you ever do have to make a tough landin’, kinda thing. Sound like a plan?”

Rainbow nodded, curtly. Applejack relaxed, confident the matter would be talked over later. Fluttershy hesitated, and then opened her mouth one last time—being not a total fool, but toppling helplessly in that direction simply because she was so certain of her rightness.

“And you’d better listen! What if you’d smashed into the ground, the way you used to crash into Twilight’s house? You might shrug it off, but what would Princess Celestia think if she had to watch the end of your foal’s life?!”

The attempt at unanswerable hyperbole fell strangely flat. Applejack glanced at Twilight, who glanced back at Applejack, and both turned to Princess Celestia, who stared into space with a weary look, before shaking it off.

“Let’s move on to more cheerful topics,” said Celestia. “Thankfully, right now I need not face any such thing. Are those daisy petals, Fluttershy? They look delicious!”

They moved inside, Applejack nuzzling her mate and leading the way, Celestia and Pinkie following. Twilight lingered so she could whisper to Fluttershy, “Don’t say that, you dummy! She’s an alicorn, remember? She already is gonna outlive all of us, don’t remind her like that!”

“Fine,” said Fluttershy, unrepentant. “Come up with another way I can teach Rainbow Dash how to be a suitable mother, then.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “I guess that depends on how you define ‘suitable’. Let Applejack work on that flying thing, okay? From the looks of it, we’ve about seen the last of that, whether she likes it or not.”

“She could be floating on clouds,” retorted Fluttershy. “Our magic for that intensifies in pregnancy. She could get anywhere she wanted to go as long as she got some cloud under her to support her weight—anypony would do that for her, I could have a tuft of cloud brought here in five minutes if I asked a friendly pegasus for help. She just won’t do it, no matter how much it endangers her.”

“Applejack will handle it, all right? Take it easy on Rainbow, Fluttershy. I know it seems like she’s got no idea what to do, but I’m sure it’ll work out somehow.”

“Twi? Fluttershy?” called Applejack, from the open doorway.

“C’mon,” said Twilight, “enough grumpiness. Let’s have fun together.”

They entered, and soon enough a little fire was casting away the chill of late fall, and dinner was served.

Fluttershy winced and rolled her eyes at the heavy thud.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash had retired to their bedroom, for the wing muscle massages that Dash, over dinner, had admitted she needed. In Sweet Apple Acres fashion, they hadn’t seen a need to get rid of their guests first—the other ponies were trusted to come and go as they pleased and make themselves at home, and so Applejack begged their pardon for her retreat to the bedroom but made no suggestion that they’d have to go, were she not present.

It seemed likely that she and Dash were making themselves at home in the bedroom, too, judging from the thumping. It wasn’t rhythmic, so it could have been wrestling: whatever it was, Fluttershy wore a look of saintly exasperation over it, clearly considering it just one more example of inappropriate behavior for a pregnant mare.

Princess Celestia smiled at her pouting, and gently suggested, “I’m sure it will be okay. I have seen many types of pony mothers, dear. Don’t worry so.”

“Yes, Princess Celestia,” said Fluttershy. “I’m sorry…”

“C’mon, Fluttershy,” said Pinkie, “I wanna get you home! Why should Dashie get all the fun? Are you coming, Twilight? I mean, coming back to town since our hosts have gone to bed. I don’t mean coming home with me and Flutterbutter! Um, though I guess you could if you wanted, if it’s okay with Fluttershy, I don’t want to seem like I’m telling you not to come home with us or anything…”

“I’d like to speak with Twilight, briefly, if I may,” said Princess Celestia, and Twilight’s heart lurched.

Pinkie blinked a couple times. “Okay! Come on, Fluttershy, time is candy!”

Fluttershy objected, “That’s what you say on Nightmare Night! It’s already Neighvember…”

“Time is candy,” insisted Pinkie, “because it’s sweet!” She dropped her gaze bashfully. “When it’s spent with you…”

The butter-yellow pegasus blushed, and the two walked off, gazing sidelong at each other. They didn’t even notice that Twilight’s magic opened the door for them—between the rapt mutual gaze, and the touch of Fluttershy’s wing on Pinkie’s withers, they might have thought the door opened for them from the power of love alone.

The door shut, and Twilight shook herself. “Whoof!”

“Charming, aren’t they?” said Celestia.

“I think it would drive me crazy in a week,” admitted Twilight. “But it seems to work for Fluttershy, so who am I to judge?”

“Ah. Heh…” said Celestia. “Indeed.” She looked away, uncomfortably.

“Okay, what’s up? You needed to speak with me? Princess, don’t be like that, if there’s something that concerns you I do want to hear about it.”

“I wouldn’t say it concerns me,” protested Celestia. “It’s your business and you’ve just reminded me to stay out of it. Might I plead curiosity, nothing more?”

“All right, out with it!” demanded Twilight. “Now you’ve really got to tell me what’s bothering you.”

Celestia hung her head—but peered sideways at Twilight, through narrowed eyes, all the same. “Rarity seems happy these days, spending so much time around you and your Trixie.”

Twilight gulped. “Your point being?”

“Oh, I think being happy is a point to itself, Twilight. However—and please, do not feel you must volunteer all manner of private information in answering—am I wrong in thinking I have seen, upon this very elegant and happy white unicorn… marks?”

Twilight stared.

Princess Celestia wore a cranky look, though it was impossible to tell whether she was cross with Twilight, or simply with herself. She sighed with vexation. “Must I spell it out? I am an old pony, Twilight. I have seen whip marks before. Moreover, I have seen them in contexts that would not make anypony happy—or perhaps I simply lack the context to understand how that would be!”

Twilight licked her lips. “You say I shouldn’t volunteer private information. What, exactly, are you asking me, Princess?”

Celestia hung her head further. “Only this, Twilight. I care for you. Many ponies do… I see somepony I’m familiar with, who seems to have entered your circle. I don’t know quite what relation she has with you and Trixie, a bond that I’ve come to respect. Rarity has not come between you, has she?”

Twilight’s eyes popped. “No! Oh my goodness no! Nothing like that!”

Celestia’s glance was sharp. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely! We love Rarity very much. She’s not coming between me and Trixie. I promise you that.”

“I see. Then… Twilight, she seems happy. Are you happy? Is Trixie happy?”

Twilight stared, dumbfounded. Then, a crazy grin began to creep onto her muzzle, a grin of insufferable smugness—and a weight seemed to lift from Princess Celestia, to see it.

“Really!” said Celestia. “Please, don’t feel you must explain. I’m not sure I’d be able to follow the explanation in any event. I take it I’ve just asked one of the most foolish questions ever?”

“That depends on what else you’ve asked,” pointed out Twilight, grinning. “For all I know, you’ve asked Star Swirl the Bearded all sorts of funny things.”

Celestia snorted with laughter. “I did ask him why he thought once wasn’t enough. Poor fellow!”

Twilight knit her brow in perplexity, and then gasped. “You mean…?”

Celestia nodded. “Yes. The amniomorphic spell? Pray don’t tell anypony—but yes, he had personal reasons for developing it. Quite beyond a fondness for eggs! Think about it. I should not be telling you this…”

Twilight bounced on all four hooves. “Oh my gosh! It’s such an important field of research, too! Are you really suggesting that…”

Celestia glanced from side to side, warily, and whispered to Twilight, “Four words. Star Swirl the Diapered…”

Twilight squealed briefly with laughter, blushing red, at once charmed by sharing secrets with her mentor and shocked by the revelations.

“So you see there is nothing new under the Sun,” added Princess Celestia. “Also, I must caution you—Star Swirl was a great researcher, worthy of your and my respect, Twilight. Just as you shall be worthy of the respect of posterity. You caught me out, asking whether I’d asked him funny things! Please, keep this between us. Please? As somepony else whose personal business is not public?”

Twilight sobered. “Of course. I always thought the phylogeny clearly indicated what that field of study turned into—you know, oviparous—but maybe being around Rainbow and Fluttershy reminded both of us that you don’t have to be an egg to be amniotic!”

Princess Celestia giggled, and Twilight joined her. It felt wonderful, sharing jokes about phylogeny, and Twilight wondered if Star Swirl, in turn, had shared laughs with his mentor in a difficult, personal situation where she didn’t entirely approve of everything about him, but loved him all the same.

“So,” said Celestia, “you’re happy, then? You and Trixie? And Rarity, whatever she’s up to, which thank heavens I shall never understand? By that, I mean personal understanding—the other implications will surely become apparent in time and I can’t think of a more supportive set of ponies than you all, when that time comes. I simply mean I am not likely to share her predilections.”

Twilight blinked. “Um. Yes! Yes, we’re very happy! And I want to go on from there to say that I’m so very grateful for your understanding and acceptance. It would be awful to lose you over anything like that. It wouldn’t be worth it.” She hesitated, considering what she’d said. Indeed, she would not be willing to lose the Princess over simple kinkiness. But there had been a time when she’d been ready to do just that—over love, that happened to be intractably bound up with the kinkiness.

Princess Celestia seemed to read her thoughts. “Of course it wouldn’t—and we’ve never been at cross purposes over anything trivial, Twilight. I’m glad we talked. I’ll go home to the palace with my mind more at ease. Even if I resolutely refuse to inquire further! Please forgive me that?”

Twilight reared, and hugged her Princess. “Always! It’s been a wonderful evening, and I should head home too.”

“And sleep?” inquired Celestia, eyebrow raised.

Twilight looked sharply at her mentor. “Yes. Sleep like a good student. What else would I be doing?” A smirk teased the corners of her mouth.

Celestia smirked as well, ruefully. “Ah, Twilight. Have fun! …by which I mean, have a wonderful cozy sleep, full of bunnies and flowers and probably Fluttershy. Promise me you won’t teach her anything too alarming, I fear my mind would snap.”

“Yours and hers!” laughed Twilight, and they headed out the door, Twilight heading for town and Celestia taking to the sky, Canterlot-bound.

Twilight trotted vigorously, feeling a marvellous sense of balance. The early evening had offered companionship that was good for the soul. She hastened her pace, for the late evening offered other companionship, that was good for other things.

She’d allowed the others to believe she was heading for home, but it was Carousel Boutique she headed for. That had been pre-arranged. Rarity insisted, and would not explain why.

As Twilight approached, she saw a gleam of light from within, but the place was mostly dark. She let herself in without trying to turn on the lights, and made her way toward the inner sanctum, Rarity’s bedroom within the shop, normally kept closed and locked against curiosity seekers and stray customers.

This time, the door hung slightly open, and Twilight paused for a moment, preparing herself. Rarity had arranged more than the location. The expectations for Twilight were very clearly stated, and she felt comfortable with them… mostly.

“Starswirl,” breathed Twilight under her breath, practicing. Her safeword was Starswirl. Rarity’s was Consarn—or Apples, in dire emergencies or panic. Trixie had resisted adopting a safeword, and Rarity’d had to be quite cross with her, even refusing to play until Trixie adopted one. Trixie had picked ‘Ursa Major’. Twilight had never heard her use it: Trixie preferred to grovel and abase herself and seemed to have no limits at all to what she’d willingly experience.

Twilight found this hard to understand. She had a more difficult time relinquishing control. Rarity was unpredictable—sometimes wallowing in submission and degradation, and sometimes throwing out sudden and uncompromising objections, in a pattern Twilight had never worked out. Trixie alone seemed to reject the very concept of safeword and seek complete obliteration at the hooves of her Mistress.

However, she had not dealt with submitting to Rarity… until tonight.

“Starswirl, starswirl,” breathed Twilight, before entering the inner sanctum and the scene. She knew in a general sense what was to happen, and was pretty sure she trusted Rarity with it, yet still she felt a niggling sense of panic and uncertainty.

Rarity was counting on that, and Twilight knew it.

She reached out with her magic, pulled the door open, walked into the light, and closed it behind her. Also behind her, she heard the lock engage with a click, locking her in. She hadn’t done that part. Rarity had.

Trixie and Rarity lay on Rarity’s bed, fondling each other. “Trixie still can’t quite believe she is doing this,” said Trixie.

“Regrets, darling?” replied Rarity, with a wicked smile.

“Submitting to both of you? Trixie wonders if there is such a thing as too much of a good thing! Two dommes?”

Twilight caught her breath, for Rarity had shot her a warning look of great ferocity, before turning back to her would-be victim. “Remember, darling. You must say ‘Ursa Major’ to call a halt. You insisted both words must be included, for fear you would inadvertently make sounds resembling ‘Ursa’, and I consented to that. I won’t promise that the scene won’t end should you simply add ‘May’: I think that is close enough to the danger zone. Do you understand? You are to cry out ‘Ursa Major’ to halt the scene.”

Trixie blinked, fear and recalcitrance warring within her expression. “Trixie will not bail out of anything. Trixie has her Mistress here to watch everything you do.”

Rarity just smiled.

Trixie blinked. “W… why is Trixie so frightened, this time?”

“Oh, no,” said Rarity, “you are not frightened, girl.” Her smile didn’t waver. “Not yet.”

“Trixie will not bail out! No matter how intimidating both of you can be! Your domination only makes Trixie more aroused!”

“Good,” said Rarity. “We are all here. Shall we begin?”

Trixie grinned madly. Twilight slowly nodded, biting her lip.

Rarity lifted her chin, commandingly. “Twilight. You will do the honors. Blindfold her.”

The cloth was dense and black. Twilight’s magic made short work of the task. Trixie nuzzled drunkenly against the blindfold as Twilight fastened it, and began rubbing between her own legs with a forehoof.

“Aren’t you going to stop her?” asked Twilight.

“Let her,” said Rarity, unconcerned. She stood, and her own horn glowed, as she selected first a riding crop, and then a whip. “Do you remember the plan?”

“Yes… Mistress,” said Twilight.

Trixie’s ears went back, and she made a little squeak of surprise.

“Lift her!” demanded Rarity, and Twilight’s horn flared into brightness, dragging Trixie up into the air by one rear hoof. Trixie kicked and thrashed, and then hung still, panting, listening, as Rarity continued. “Oh, didn’t I say? We have a special treat for you, girl. I own both of you tonight. Your Mistress… is mine.”

Trixie’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. She closed it, and she dangled passively.

“Good, good,” said Rarity. “Twilight! Prepare the apparatus!”

Twilight focussed her attention, and a block and tackle floated up out of a pile of fabric where it had lain concealed. The roof offered more than one sturdy hook to hang it on, and Twilight rapidly got it ready, fastening it tightly, feeding in rope. Flakes of rust fell down onto Trixie’s inverted posterior as Twilight secured the apparatus, and Twilight brushed them off with a hoof as she lowered Trixie to the bed, fastening the lower pulley block to a sturdy padded cuff, and locking the cuff onto Trixie’s left rear hoof.

Trixie quivered in frantic arousal, oozingly excited, her jaw slack as she struggled to submit further and further to anything the two unicorns could possibly imagine to do to her.

“Twilight!”

Rarity was holding out another cuff. It was fastened to another rope, just the one rope, but this one was tied to a bedpost.

“If you please! Fasten this one as well, darling.”

Twilight blinked, and began to attach the second cuff to one of Trixie’s limp fore-hooves… and then squeaked, for Rarity’s whip had flicked her rump.

“Wrong! Fasten it to her other rear hoof. Now.”

Twilight gulped, and complied. Trixie was an absolute puddle. From the looks of things, Rarity meant to have her dangling, splayed, in an obscene sort of split, between the powerful block and tackle and the slim rope binding her to the bedpost.

“Use the apparatus!” demanded Rarity.

Twilight drew on the rope, and Trixie shuddered as she was dragged awkwardly into the air. At first she tried to remain totally limp, but her teeth gritted, and then she’d twisted around, her tail flicking as her body was hoisted skyward, and her forehoof flailed, seeking some kind of purchase and finding none.

“Oh, look, she wants another point of support! Twilight, I’ll take that. Take her mane.”

Rarity stepped forward, seizing the end of the rope with her magic, and pulling. Trixie lifted a bit higher, breath hissing through her teeth, and Twilight’s eyes widened. Was this dangerous? The block and tackle creaked horribly with each inch it lifted the hapless Trixie, but it looked awfully sturdy.

“Take her mane, I said! Support her weight, this instant!”

Twilight squeaked, and reached out with her magic, seizing Trixie’s mane and dragging her up, suspending her by a second point. She also extended the lifting field to support Trixie’s body, delivering a caress of assurance, and Rarity saw where the magic had reached…

There was a whistling crack, and Twilight screamed, dropping Trixie for a moment.

“Mane ONLY!”

Rarity had lashed out with a rod, nailing Twilight on the ass, and Twilight frantically raised Trixie by mane alone, her eyes wild and panicky, her breathing terrified gasps. The pain was incredible—Twilight had not experienced the rod before, only wielded it. Trixie struggled, and then went still again, biting her lip.

“Is she going to be…” managed Twilight.

The rod glided in and touched the welt it had just made, and Twilight emitted a terrified whimper—which caused Trixie’s tail to thrash briefly.

“You will continue to hold onto that mane, while you are punished,” said Rarity in a level, deadly tone. “Just a moment…”

She drew on the rope a little more, and Trixie let out a shuddering cry between gritted teeth as her legs were stretched tight in two different directions. Rarity tied the rope off, and stepped away. Twilight, horrified, imagined the strain on Trixie’s hips. If she let Trixie drop, perhaps very bad things would happen. Of course, Rarity had grilled her ruthlessly on how much she could lift with her magic, how firmly she could support a heavy weight, for reasons which now became apparent. So, technically, Trixie was maybe quite safe provided she kept holding her up by her mane…

Rarity had moved around behind Twilight, who stared back at her with wide, wide eyes. The elegant fashionista seemed to have a number of items handy, that Twilight tried to see.

“Do not drop that pony. You will hold onto that mane and only that mane. Even while I do this.”

Twilight watched, as Rarity began sharpening an enormous knife on a steel. Trixie twitched, as she heard the noise, unable to see what was happening.

Rarity’s horn glowed brighter. She hissed a breath between her teeth—and the rod scraped against the fresh welt on Twilight’s ass, while the enormous knife sliced into… a grapefruit.

Twilight fought back a strangled squeal of pain, staring dumbfounded at Rarity’s shenanigans—and Trixie began shaking all over, hyperventilating.

Rarity’s eyes flashed with devilish glee. “Lick her! Lick that oozing vagina, suck that clitoris!” she demanded. Twilight’s eyes widened with understanding. She had to trust that Rarity would commit only mock mayhem upon her—but Trixie could not know that. With frantic haste, Twilight complied, lunging forward and burying her face against Trixie’s splayed crotch, her tongue extending to pleasure her lover.

Trixie shuddered, her muscles tensing against the suspension that held her. She tried to turn her head towards where Twilight was licking her vulva, but there was another whistling crack and Twilight shrieked.

“Hold her head forward! Don’t drop it! No matter what I do to you!”

Twilight fought back tears—that rod! It hurt so much! She devoted herself to eating Trixie out as if her life depended on it, certain that she was in no real danger, but she was not given a moment to hint at the truth. She heard the dragging of heavy chains, then the creaking of some large mechanism, like a rusted iron girder. Then, Twilight thrashed and shrieked against Trixie’s vagina, for Rarity had dragged a hairbrush lightly across the marks left by that light, whippy rod…

Hearing Twilight’s scream, Trixie began to thrash against her bonds. “B’rrr… urrrs…”

“Hold her safely!” demanded Rarity, in an imperious voice. Twilight lifted Trixie’s head a little higher. Trixie’s tail thrashed, but she didn’t try to speak again—she just hyperventilated, her mouth a rictus of horror and dismay, the word ‘safely’ drawing her back from the edge of bail-out.

“Nibble on her lips! Not the clit, the labia!” commanded Rarity.

As Twilight did, some noisy machine started up, a harsh metallic racket. It sounded small, but geared, with a strange whirring and clanging like whirling knives. As Trixie convulsed at the sound, Twilight felt that hairbrush rasp her injuries again, and though she had half been expecting it, it was too sudden—she bit Trixie sharply, shrieked in pain, and then fought to keep on obediently giving Trixie head while also trying to work out if she’d drawn blood.

Trixie reacted with a series of dreadful screeches, her head trying to thrash off the blindfold and her forelegs frantically kicking the air, but Rarity gave neither pony time to react. “Out ‘f th’ w’y!”

She had the magic bit in her teeth, and her massive stallionhood looked more daunting than ever. Twilight staggered back, still holding up Trixie by the mane, feeling Rarity’s magic join hers in that duty and support Trixie’s frantically writhing body. She saw that Rarity had greased up her phallus with something—butter, probably.

“Wait, did I…”

“Sh’t up!”

“I want to see if there’s…”

“Sh’t up!” snarled Rarity, and the rod lifted and swatted Twilight again. She squealed and backed off, watching with wide frightened eyes as Rarity loomed over Trixie—and thrust.

“AAAAHHH!”

Trixie screamed. So did Twilight. Rarity didn’t let them draw a breath.

“Say y’re my little pony, Tw’light!”

“I… I’m your little pony!” Twilight squealed as Rarity bounced the rod vaguely off her flank, her aim totally spoiled by her distraction. The fat stallionhood slid further into Trixie as she shrieked and spasmed, and Rarity drove it home inch by inch.

“Say y’re my bitch, Tw’light!”

“I’m your bitch Twilight!” said Twilight. Rarity whipped her head around, instantly noticing the touch of sarcasm, but the tone of voice was still panicky and submissive.

“Lick h’r clit, r’ght now!”

Twilight scrambled forward, thrusting her head underneath the two pony bodies in their twisted embrace, and suckled for all she was worth on Trixie’s clitoris as Rarity’s hips thrust once, twice, three times…

Trixie screamed and bucked in her suspended restraints, firing a bolt of unicorngasm violently from her horn as Rarity doubled up and came in her, throbbing and spurting in a hasty, urgent release. As she came, Rarity’s magic flared to life, and untied the rope. She didn’t let Trixie down gently—she loosed her all at once, and the block and tackle screeched as loudly as Trixie as it released her weight in a mad lashing of rope.

Twilight scrambled out from under them, and barely remembered to let go of her grip on Trixie’s mane, and Trixie thudded heavily to the bed, still tied by one rear hoof, Rarity’s spurting cock wrenched from her spasming vagina as she fell.

Triumphantly, Rarity whisked the blindfold off her, and spat the bit onto the bedspread, grinning manically at her prey. Trixie gazed up at her, sobbing, shaking, and moaning “Twilight! Twilight!”

“I’m here! I’m here!” said Twilight, rushing forward and clinging to her.

“Twilight!” sobbed Trixie, clinging to her lover as if she’d pulled her from some disaster zone. “I should have said the words! She hurt you! Oh, Twilight, I’m sorry! I couldn’t decide!”

“Well, duh!” replied Twilight, hugging her shaking, mentally shattered lover. “That fucking rod, how do you stand it? Yow!”

“But… she CUT y…”

Trixie blinked away tears. In front of her face floated a grapefruit, deeply gashed.

“But… whirling knives, carving you up, you screamed…”

Rarity’s magic floated another item before Trixie’s shocked gaze. It was… an eggbeater. The handle twirled, the gears whirred mechanically, the beaters tinged as they rattled against each other. Rarity’s face came into focus behind the eggbeater—smirking, horribly.

“Rarity loves her Mistress. I gave you something special, Trixie. Just for you.”

Trixie gulped. She licked her lips. Tears came to her eyes, but whether they were of joy or grief was hard to tell. Perhaps, for her, they joined and became one, out in some strange mental place where her suffering became her liberation.

“Oh,” she quavered, “fuck you… fuck you SO much…”

Rarity glowed with pleasure, and her face ached from the intensity of that incredible smile.

They supported Trixie, as she could barely walk. She tottered, eyes still in a thousand-yard stare, along the street with Rarity on one side of her and Twilight on the other.

“Ow!” said Twilight. “Hold on. We gotta change sides.”

“What is the matter, Mistress?” said Trixie, dreamily.

“I’ll show you. See?” said Twilight. She trotted out in front of her lover, and showed her flank, with the two big welts from the rod.

Trixie tried to focus, and stared at Twi’s bottom for a moment. Then she snorted. “Silly Mistress. Mistress has done just the same to Trixie. With a rod, too.”

“Oh, yes,” said Rarity. She was still grinning, her teeth gleaming in the moonlight, a rictus of fierce joy that wouldn’t fade. “Intentional. That wasn’t so bad, was it, Twilight dear? But you had to know it, truthfully. If you intend to top my beloved Mistress, you must understand what you do.”

Twilight smirked. “Maybe I understand her a little better. Wow. I thought the top of my head would come off. You play so rough, Rarity, it’s unbelievable…”

“Please, let us not escalate!” said Rarity hastily. “I was pleasing Mistress, nothing more. Mistress is a hard case. You won’t escalate, will you, Mistress? Taking you to the edge is a fearsome thing. Let us entertain you within your comfort zone, knowing your limits far exceed our own. I certainly shan’t even begin to pretend to compare with it.”

They resumed their progress, this time with Twilight on the opposite side. As they walked, Rarity whispered to Trixie, “I’ll just know—when it is my turn, you shall tremble.”

Trixie whispered back, “Trixie yields to her mistress…” and Rarity’s smile shone forth again.

As they approached the library, they saw a waiting figure, pale green in the bright moonlight. She trotted up to meet them.

“I… I’m not sure how to say this. Now that you’re here it seems really stupid. But… Twilight, I still have the bit you gave me. I was wondering… if you girls had room for one more?”

Rarity looked the lovely unicorn mare up and down. Her gleaming smile didn’t waver, and she stepped forward with the confidence of one who’d conquered every challenge fate had thrown her, that night.

“Darling Lyra. I understand completely…”

She walked up to Lyra, gazing into her eyes, and before the beautiful young mare could shy away, Rarity’s horn was gently rubbing hers in a unicorn’s kiss.

“Come back tomorrow and we’ll talk about it. Tonight I feel I can do no wrong, I am a goddess of pleasure and wicked love! You mustn’t take advantage of this mood of mine, I will have to sleep on it. But I am sure that, tomorrow, we can find some way to accomodate you.”

Trixie and Twilight glanced nervously at each other.

“Now run along, darling,” said Rarity—and Lyra trotted away, giddy.

The room was darkened, but Princess Celestia felt certain her sister did not sleep, so she quietly entered anyhow.

“Have you news?” came the quiet voice.

Celestia cleared her throat. “They are well. She… is well. So I hear. I did not see her.”

Silence was the only response. Celestia hesitated, and then added, “Perhaps I presume too much?”

A sniffle, in the darkness. “Nay, sister. Thou presumest all too well.”

“Oh, Luna,” sighed Celestia. “Would that you could face them and ease your distress with the balm of their forgiveness…”

“Nay,” said Luna.

“Or, indeed, cast aside the intensity of the thought that holds you…”

Another sniffle. “Nay, sister.”

“Well, this is neither the letter nor the spirit of your punishment, sister,” said Celestia with asperity. “I grow too used to such things… you torment yourself wilfully. What would you do, were I to simply retire to my chambers, telling you nothing?”

“I would seek you out,” replied Luna. “And ask.”

“And if I told you nothing?”

“Then,” said Princess Luna, “it would be one fewer moment of mercy while I wait for my lost love to die.”

Celestia winced.

“Oh, Luna.”

“But, as yet?” came the soft voice in the darkness.

“…they are well,” confirmed Princess Celestia.

Tilt

“It’s like… there are no rules!” said Lyra, entranced.

Outside, all was quiet under a blanket of snow. Inside, four unicorns sought to deepen their budding relationship. Not Trixie and Twilight, perhaps, for their bonds already ran deep. Not Trixie and Twilight and Rarity, for their bondage ran deeper. But Trixie and Twilight and Rarity and Lyra—there were things about that which remained unexplored.

Eventually, meeting in cafes and shops and cider-halls, flirting while listening to Applejack’s laments of how unbearable it was to have grounded Rainbow Dash around, watching Pinkie Pie fawn over Fluttershy as she grew huger and huger… wasn’t enough.

They’d gathered in Rarity’s inner sanctum, and Lyra’s eyes had widened as she took in the bridles, the spurs, the whips and riding crops on display. She hadn’t flinched, but her dainty jaw hung open in astonishment at the diversity of perversity on display, and she’d seemingly drawn some conclusions about the wildness of proceedings.

Rarity coughed. “Goodness! Where to begin? Certainly there are rules. Consensuality is paramount! I understand your confusion, dear…”

Trixie grinned. She sat back on her haunches, dressed in her Great and Powerful robes and her pretty hat, and she grinned at Lyra, eyes narrowed in a predatory way. “Would you like for it to seem like there are no rules?”

Rarity turned to her. “Mistress, we should…”

As Lyra watched in amazement, Rarity fell silent at a snarl from Trixie, whose gaze flicked over to rivet her slave to the spot.

“Girl spoke,” accused Trixie. Rarity gulped, as Trixie rose and walked languidly over toward her.

Rarity blinked rapidly. “I merely… ahhh!”

The back of Trixie’s hoof smacked her across the muzzle, and she fell silent.

“Girl does not speak without permission. Trixie does not think you understand your situation. It is pay-back time! Twilight?”

Twilight Sparkle trotted forward, and Lyra boggled. Twilight was dressed in an elaborate bridle and tack arrangement, all shiny black straps and gleaming metal buckles—Rarity’s finest. “Yes?” she said.

Trixie yawned. “Shall we teach the girl’s new toy a few things about her?”

Twilight looked thoughtful. “It could come as sort of a shock,” she said, and looked at Lyra carefully.

Lyra’s eyes yearned, strange desires seething within those golden orbs. Twilight knew she wasn’t the most sophisticated pony about interpersonal things, but even she sensed the hunger.

“Lyra? I think Trixie’s going to dominate Rarity for you. Specifically, from the way she’s smirking, she… is probably going to put Rarity’s tongue to use.”

Lyra glanced back and forth between the three unicorn mares, as Twilight continued.

“Um… I’m guessing you’re not averse to that. I should probably fill you in about something… Rarity finds doing that degrading. But Rarity gets off on being degraded…”

Rarity blushed harder and harder, biting her lip. Trixie’s grin grew fangs.

Lyra gulped.

“Is she good at it? It’s… been a while.”

“Oh my gosh, yes,” said Twilight. “So… you up for that sort of thing?”

Lyra panted, and hopped into the air off all four hooves, bouncing fillyishly with excitement—and then she’d dashed forwards, leaping onto the bed, and then kicking her hind legs off it. She twisted around, sitting upright in an odd, unponyish posture, and then settled back with every sign of satisfaction, parting her legs expertly and wriggling her hindquarters, her tail flicking enticingly.

“Uhh…” said Twilight, taken aback, “I guess you’ve done this before!”

Trixie’s magic glowed, and a whip floated up into view. “Of course she has, Twilight darling. Even I noticed how she was with…”

“Uht!” said Rarity, and Trixie stopped.

She considered, and said, “Trixie apologizes for nearly bringing up what may be painful memories, Miss Lyra? Far be it from Trixie to spoil your evening.”

Lyra stared down across her reclining body, legs spread toward the three kinky ponies, and flicked her tail again.

Twilight stared back—though the direction of her gaze was a tough decision. Lyra’s golden eyes gleamed and didn’t look one bit like her evening was being spoiled. At the same time, Lyra’s lovely hind legs hung open invitingly, allowing her dainty vagina to part—and wink. It gleamed as well, but more from the inviting glisten of mare nectar, seemingly a lighter and silkier blend than ponies usually offered. Twilight didn’t consider herself an expert on vagina, having stuck to Trixie and tried Rarity, but she was certain of two things: one, the beautiful spring-green unicorn’s pussy looked delightful, and two, its evening was not being spoiled, either.

Twilight checked, anyhow, because it seemed the polite thing. “Lyra? How’re you doing?”

For a moment, she reared and shied away, for the question seemed to electrify Lyra—whose eyes flared up madly, who drew a deep breath, who waved all her hooves madly as she squealed a wriggling reply…

“Eeeeee! Surrounded by sexy UNICORN mares!”

Twilight laughed out loud in relief. Rarity beamed at her adorable new pet, and Trixie grinned wickedly, brandishing the whip. “Surrounded? Trixie will show you surrounded! Hyah!”

She cracked the whip against Rarity’s alabaster rump, and Rarity’s violet eyes flew wide as she gasped, “Mistress! I really must advise that we talk over some…”

The whip cracked again, and Rarity squeaked and fell silent, Trixie staring her down. “Silence! Trixie assures you, Lyra will not be subject to any of her disciplining yet. That is your job. Lyra will be subject to your tongue pleasuring her private parts!” Trixie blinked. “Er. Lyra, do you have preferences about this? Trixie will not make her victim do anything you don’t want her to do. …which private parts do you want Rarity to lick?”

Twilight’s eyes widened, as did Rarity’s. Both stared with alarm at their reclining companion, startled at Trixie’s suggestion.

Lyra’s eyes went half lidded. She squirmed, and her neat little anus clenched. Rarity’s teeth gritted.

“Everything. Do everything!” breathed Lyra, as a drip of nectar oozed down from her pouting vulva.

The three watching unicorns exchanged a rapid series of glances. Rarity whimpered. Trixie gulped. Twilight bit her lip.

“I might want some of that Rarity tongue afterwards, so choose wisely…” said Twilight, and Rarity shot her a grateful look.

Trixie snorted. “Hah. Off the hook. This time! Be aware, girl, Trixie has paid close attention to what we’ve just seen!”

Rarity hung her head, peering sidelong at Trixie, until a gentler flick of the whip goaded her forward.

“You heard her, girl! Trixie expects your full effort—and study well, because you will be more fully unleashed on some other day!”

Rarity stepped forward, to stand between Lyra’s legs, batting her eyelashes. She licked her lips, uncertainly.

“She really is very good,” said Twilight, encouragingly.

The whip cracked against Rarity’s ass again, and she squealed and stuffed her face between Lyra’s legs.

“She is stalling! But not any longer!” exulted Trixie.

Lyra arched her back in pleasure, letting her legs splay wide, her tail twitching with delight under Rarity’s chin. That lovely, elegant mare had thrust stiffened tongue right into her! Hot breath washed Lyra’s clit, and then the next moment Rarity had withdrawn and was bathing that proud, happy clitoris in tongue-fondles, slippery flesh nuzzling alongside it and coaxing it to further stiffness. Lyra gasped in ecstacy. It had been too long, too long… but now her body was being worshipped again, and expertly at that.

Twilight and Trixie glanced at each other, and Twilight licked her lips. “Ooooh…”

“Care for a taste, Mistress?” suggested Trixie.

“Funny you should say that…” said Twilight, a demure smile flickering around her muzzle. She began to walk around Trixie, as if to flank Lyra and Rarity on the opposite side, but she didn’t even get halfway. Instead, her head dipped quickly behind her marefriend…

“Nnngh!” cried Trixie. “Didn’t mean me!” She panted, staring unfocused into space as Twilight’s little tongue explored between her labia.

“Are you complaining?” said Twilight. She fell silent again, apart from the little wet noises.

Trixie set her hooves apart a little more, and her tail flicked eagerly, as Lyra watched with shining eyes. “Nhhh! Oh, there, right there…”

“Mmmmm…” crooned Twilight, leaning in, working her tongue aggressively. One of her rear hooves lifted as she bent her neck, nuzzling Trixie’s nethers.

Lyra thought she had never seen anything so adorable, but her attention was quickly distracted—Rarity’d thrust her tongue deep again, and she too was nuzzling, seemingly transported by the delights of Lyra’s taut vagina. Lyra glanced down and met Rarity’s eye, and both unicorns had a wild look to them, their sensual natures on fire with lust and arousal. It seemed like Trixie’d forgotten to whip Rarity into action, but it no longer mattered—the elegant fashionista’s mane was slightly disheveled, she made soft moaning sounds, she bared her teeth and nibbled fondly at Lyra’s swelling vulva, tenderly grasping Lyra’s mons in her teeth before returning to her eager, voracious licking.

Trixie was observing this. “Trixie ought to make her…”

“No,” objected Twilight, “remember what I said.” Her head emerged from behind Trixie, and she licked her lips happily, for they were lightly glazed with pussy-juices from her kisses. “I have a better idea. She said everything, right?” She stepped up to whisper in Trixie’s ear, and Trixie blinked and grinned madly.

Lyra shivered and gasped as Rarity’s tongue fondled her inner walls again, but when she looked down, she couldn’t see that elegant coiffed mane any more. Instead, Trixie was on her right, and Twilight on her left, smiling up at her, their horns crossed as they positioned themselves. They bumped noses, giggled, exchanged a kiss—and two unicorn mouths lowered together onto Lyra’s stiffened nipples.

And, as Lyra’s eyes took in the sight of three pretty unicorn horns crossing, blue, lilac and white, Rarity began suckling on her aroused clit with a special insistence, even while Twilight Sparkle nuzzled her breast with eyes closed and suckled in turn on her nipple with naive tenderness, and Trixie’s teeth closed teasingly upon the other nipple as her tongue tickled its tip…

“Unnnhhh!” moaned Lyra, her personal areas utterly ravaged by a team of kinky unicorns. She couldn’t take her eyes off those three bobbing, dipping horns crossing in her field of vision, Twilight’s and Trixie’s horns bumping and rubbing each other obscenely as they peered up at her and redoubled their efforts, their horns glittering with their arousal.

Lyra’s body bucked under them once, then twice. Tendons stood out in her neck, she gritted her teeth in unbearable ecstacy, and then, with a ragged shriek, she cut loose, her body jolting rhythmically as she came, hard, and squirted magic horn-gasm across the wall behind her.

Trixie grinned as she nibbled on Lyra’s breast, and her horn glowed too, but not in horngasm—she lifted the whip, and lashed Rarity with it, goading the squealing mare on to fiercer cunnilingus. And again, as Lyra’s orgasm stretched out amazingly, forcing Rarity into manic pleasurings of Lyra’s quivering marehood, which juddered and winked spastically against Rarity’s frantically busy tongue.

Twilight’s eyes went wider and wider as she watched the arc of horngasm spray the wall. Gradually, she lifted her mouth from Lyra’s shuddering breast, and she used her horn against Trixie’s, to lift Trixie’s head as well. Their eyes met, and turned again to where Lyra continuously blasted the wall with magic. Twilight gulped.

Rarity hadn’t got the message yet. Maddened by Trixie’s lashing and the frenzy of the dainty vagina she buried her face in, she moaned drunkenly as she suckled and licked pony privates, not looking up, her heart pounding and her eyes squeezed shut. Trixie nudged her, but it only encouraged her to try harder. Twilight’s eyes were like saucers.

“Girl!” snapped Trixie, and Rarity lifted her head.

She looked upon a bed headboard, and a wall, that was ridiculously scorched with horngasm, behind Lyra’s shuddering body. Lyra’s face was contorted, and still she ejaculated, and from Trixie’s and especially Twilight’s expression, something horrifying and wondrous had just happened. Rarity could only stare as Lyra sprayed a last trailing-off gout of magic at the wall, and collapsed backwards in a limp prostrate heap, her breath rasping, hooves twitching feebly.

“Sweet merciful Celestia,” breathed Twilight Sparkle, “that’s so fucking hot…”

Trixie shook her head in disbelief. “How is that even possible? Trixie has never even heard of the like! Girl, cheer up, your efforts were more than rewarded…”

She trailed off. Rarity’s lip was quivering. “Did.. did we hurt her?” she said.

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gosh. Good thinking, Rarity! Lyra? Lyra, are you okay?”

Lyra made a feeble croaking noise, unable to lift her head.

“Mistress!” said Trixie. “Can you save her? Is she in danger?”

Twilight leaned over, studying Lyra’s face. Her cheeks ran wet with tears, and the rasping sound of her breath was alarming, and Twilight looked back at her friends, saying, “She’s not gonna be in danger while I’m around…” She turned back. “Lyra! Do you need mouth-to-mouth resuscitation?”

She leaned down, and Lyra struggled to lift her head—and kissed Twilight with desperate fervor, before collapsing again, limp as a rag.

“Call me… Heartstrings…” she croaked, and sagged, quivering all over.

“Awww!” went Trixie, much of her usual edginess dropping away as if melted by the sensual waves of pleasure emanating from the obliterated mare’s body sprawled before her. She clambered onto the bed and snuggled against Lyra. “Trixie would be delighted to, Heartstrings! Is that from your cutie mark? Is that your pet name?”

Twilight joined her, snuggling Lyra from the other side. “She’s like the best pet ever! Wow, I still can’t believe the way she came! That’s like, mega stallion grade horncome right there! Trixie, would you let her… DO you? Hmmm?”

Trixie blinked. “Twilight, you sexy whorse. Who’s your daddy now, hm? You finding me inadequate, Mistress? Wouldn’t you rather watch her do Rarity?”

Twilight giggled, as Rarity looked on in sudden alarm. “Oh, no no! But… Come on, you saw it! Can you imagine what that would feel like? And you know we haven’t got real stallions here so it wouldn’t stick… but oh my gosh, Trixie, can you even imagine what it would feel like to take that?”

Trixie smirked. “Mistress is in a very naughty mood. Goodness! I can’t imagine how Bon Bon ever let her go…”

“Sh! And Trixie, she’s not a unicorn!” hissed Twilight. “Lyra hasn’t had, well, an outlet for it…”

“How could she even get with a stallion?” marvelled Trixie. “She’d force it right back down his horn!”

“Must be a raging lesbian thing,” teased Twilight. “You should know!”

Lyra stirred as Trixie rubbed horns gently with Twilight, grinning wickedly. “Does my little pony Mistress want to go all the way? After watching that? Hmm?”

Rarity bit her lip, as she watched Twilight wriggle, and saw Twilight’s vag wink eagerly at the suggestion.

Lyra was gaining strength again, though she looked dazed. “Ooooh… you’re going to make love? You’re going to…” she said, and gasped.

Trixie looked her right in the eye. “Yes, Heartstrings. I’m gonna arc with Twilight and I will make her pregnant—right in front of you, while you watch.” She hesitated, and then added, “Sort of.”

Twilight hastened to explain. “We’re mares! Nothing will happen—but Trixie is a little bit like you. When we get with each other and go that far, it’s usually her that, well…”

Lyra squealed weakly. “Let me help, let me help!”

Trixie yawned, ostentatiously. “Really? So soon? Oh, my tongue is so tired from licking your nipples, Heartstrings. You want to help? Dive between dear Twilight’s lovely legs. You’ll know what to do.”

Lyra dragged herself across the bed, and Twilight parted her legs to allow the spring-green unicorn between them. Trixie glanced at Rarity, who sat frozen and staring at the scene. “Girl, you will attend to my needs, as you are so very capable of doing…”

“Cons… consarn…” said Rarity, very quietly.

At this, Twilight and Trixie both stared at Rarity, and Trixie said, “Oh, no! Oh please? No, no, I remember, I can’t… Trixie will not presume…”

“What’s the matter, Rarity?” said Twilight. Lyra paid no attention, but continued to nuzzle inquiringly between her legs, distracting her.

Rarity gulped. “No. It’s… I… Oh, Mistress!”

“Rarity, please, talk to us!” said Trixie.

Rarity gulped again, and set her jaw. “Never mind. I love you both very much. Very, very much.”

“We love you, Rarity!” said Twilight. “Ahhnnn!” She bit her lip, as Lyra’s tongue began to stroke her labia.

“Do it!” said Rarity, with determination. “Mistress, part your legs. I shan’t fail you.”

“You never fail!” said Trixie, doing so. “You… ahhh!”

Rarity shut her eyes tightly and devoted all of her attention to Trixie’s tender, quivering vagina, going after it with perhaps even more intensity than she’d devoted to Lyra’s.

Trixie turned to Twilight, kissing, ducking her head to sensually rub horn with horn, and Twilight melted into her marefriend’s embrace—and for a minute, there was nothing but their sighs and the little sounds of their kisses, the delicate touches of tongue against tongue, tongue against lips, soft and tender—while, all the time, below their waists, two other unicorn mares busily worked away at pleasuring their nethers.

The contrast was striking. Lyra’s eyes looked up over Twilight and Trixie, her nose nuzzling Twilight’s breasts, her attention rapt. She couldn’t get enough of the sight, and she quivered with excitement as Twilight kissed her marefriend, gasped little gasps, blushed in arousal, and Lyra drove her onward with tender, insistent licks, parting her labia, caressing her clit, all the while watching, watching, watching.

Rarity’s eyes remained shut, but there was a strange urgency to how she devoured Trixie’s pussy, her devotion tangible. She drove herself on, requiring no whipping or goading, possessed by determination to please the jaded, wonderful mare who owned her soul, please her at all costs—and her experience showed.

Twilight whimpered sweetly, wriggling as Lyra went after her, and Trixie rained kisses on her face and forehead, sighing, “Yes… yes, love… it’s time, beautiful one…”

They gazed into each others’ eyes. Twilight’s lips parted in a little gasp, and Trixie bared her teeth in a wicked smile. “Good, is she?”

“Oh my! Ahnn!”

“Come for Trixie, my sweet Mistress…” said Trixie, beginning to pant, her horn glittering and coruscating with building energy.

“Ah! Ahh!” squeaked Twilight, holding Trixie’s eyes in a wide, startled gaze.

“Open yourself to me,” moaned Trixie passionately. “Come on, come on!”

Rarity screwed her eyes shut harder, and the sounds of licking and suckling doubled as she and Lyra drove Twilight and Trixie to orgasm.

Twilight’s eyes held a shocked look, a look that suggested she had never truly got used to what was about to happen to her. She had spent a lifetime sequestered with her books and studies, and even when she’d let herself be intimate—which was rare—she’d treated it as moments of pleasure stolen from others, something to be fought for and won.

Helplessly, willingly, she sank into Trixie’s hungry, burning gaze, her eyes widening as her release built inexorably within her, and she could not look away.

Trixie snarled as she began to orgasm, gritting her teeth in a feral grin as she fought to hold back her magic for a few more seconds, and she no longer demanded anything from Twilight except that rapt attention, the shocked, fillyish gaze, the warmth of her right there quivering and expectant.

“I’m gonna…” squeaked Twilight.

“Oh, yes, yes…” hissed Trixie ecstatically. “You’re gonna.”

“I’m… I’m gonna… nggh! eeeeh!”

Twilight didn’t close her eyes—though Rarity screwed hers shut even tighter with an expression of terrible distress. Twilight didn’t see it, for she had eyes only for Trixie, and Trixie could see how miraculous and new it was for her love—perhaps all the more since they were there at that peak moment with other mares watching. It was as if there was a new level of intimacy through that sharing that brought back the shock of it for Twilight—the raw wonder and strange power of the experience, one she’d thought would not be hers.

Twilight squeaked fillyishly, and gushed a stream of magic from her horn, her eyes startled and vulnerable.

As she did, Trixie stiffened, emitting a strangled roar of passion, and her horn flared and blasted out its own unicorngasm, its own stream of magic—which bent to lock onto Twilight’s, and shot blinding sparks as it hit.

The two streams arced for a moment, while Twilight gave a cry like her heart had been seized in a fierce and sudden loving grip, like every part of her from horn to hoof had been galvanized by the magic-to-magic contact, a feeling that went right up a unicorn’s spine and electrified her in no more than an instant. Trixie shook from the contact as well, eyes dilating madly.

And then, hissing hot breaths between clenched teeth, Trixie concentrated and the glittering point of contact moved. It pressed hungrily down, lowering, closing on Twilight’s horn while she stared up at it in breathless excitement and alarm—and with a joyous heave of virile boldness, Trixie thrust her magic through the tip of that lilac horn and deeply into Twilight, whose magic drew back, yielding, enfolding and embracing it, and the lilac horn glowed with Trixie blue as her magic flooded Twilight’s mind and body.

“Uhhh!” cried Twilight. “Unhhh! Ohhh!” Her body writhed, possessed by the mating force, racked by orgasms of such a special quality—not merely explosions or fireworks. Twilight was lifted and thrown as if by an irresistible tide, flooded by her lover’s magic and consumed by the indescribable flavor of her magic merging with Trixie’s, the blend radiating through her body and mind with unbearable sweetness and urgency.

Lyra’s eyes dilated as well, as she looked up across Twilight’s squirming body, across that round lilac belly—knowing with visceral immediacy that inches from her nose, farther up the delicious tunnel that her tongue explored, Twilight Sparkle’s and Trixie’s horngasm arc was infusing an egg with magic, that Twilight’s body was releasing it to be fertilized by a spurt of stallion-semen, that the lovely mare body she pleasured was right that moment being made pregnant, by another unicorn mare. She was tasting Twilight while Twilight was taking Trixie’s foal.

…almost.

The horngasm-arc subsided, after a few seconds. Trixie had great power and forcefulness with it, but couldn’t begin to sustain it nearly as long as Lyra had. It was over.

Lyra watched, as Trixie nuzzled her stunned and impregnated—almost—lover. Twilight looked ruined in the most wonderful way, struggling to focus, dazed, radiant. For a moment, Lyra was filled with jealousy.

They’d been absolutely right. Even if she hadn’t been with an earth pony, that joy would be denied her, for she did surely come so hard that anypony, anything would be overwhelmed into helpless receptiveness. She could doubtless ravage any unicorn this way—but whose magic could ever enter her and flood her with such deep pleasure?

She glanced over, next to her. Perhaps Rarity felt similarly, for her hooves were over her eyes and she, too, had ceased her efforts.

Twilight let out a deep, shuddery sigh, and Trixie met it with a kiss.

Lyra nudged Rarity, and one tearful eye opened. Lyra smiled rakishly—and kissed her own Mistress (whatever a Mistress was).

“Hey. We did it,” she said.

Rarity managed a quivery smile. “So… it would appear.”

The following morning, Sweetie Belle trotted along the path, glancing up at the foreboding clouds. It looked like more snow was coming—or perhaps it was sleet and freezing rain, for the temperature had risen and turned the last week’s snows into a sodden, heavy mess.

She spotted her friend, and broke into a fillyish gallop, crying “Scootaloo! Scootaloo!”

A little magenta-maned head popped up, shovel in her teeth, and then Scootaloo spat the shovel out, and hissed, “Ssshhh!”

Sweetie pulled up, abruptly, staring at her pegasus companion. “What for?”

“Be quiet! I have to shovel the stupid walk. I’ve been talking to myself so if you’re quiet she won’t notice you’re here, if I keep on sounding the same.”

Scootaloo’s voice apparently needed to sound grumpy and mad. Scootaloo looked furious, too. Sweetie blinked. “What’s the matter? Are you having a bad day? I have some good news but it’s making me confused and I wanted to talk about it.”

Scootaloo had taken the shovel back into her mouth, and spoke around it. “J’st wonderful, th’nks for asking…”

“Is your mom being mean to you?”

“She’s not r’lly my mother,” grumbled Scootaloo around the shovel, throwing some more snow into a pile.

Sweetie gasped. “She’s not?”

“Nuh,” snarled Scootaloo. She spat the shovel out, and yelled, “She’s a big flapping stubborn pain in the neck is what she is!”

At that, a window cracked open. “Kid! Cool it!”

“It’s not fair!” yelled Scootaloo. “You’re hurting! You totally admitted it and everything! Why can’t I help?”

“For the last time you cannot rub my wings, kid! I’m sorry I said anything!”

“If they were working you could blow all this snow away and I wouldn’t have to shovel it!”

Inside, Flight Lightning growled. “Working? You want to talk working? I need you to let me finish my breakfast in peace before I go on what, the seventeenth consecutive double shift? Why do you think my wings hurt so bad, kid?”

“So let me rub them, and make you feel better!”

“Dammit!” roared Flight. “I am not going to even get into why that is inappropriate! One day you’ll understand. Shut up and shovel!”

The window slammed shut. Sweetie cowered back in horror, but Scootaloo was totally unfazed. She just picked up the shovel, and grumbled, “See? She’s being a tot’l pain.”

Sweetie considered this. “Maybe there’s, like, a Mom disease going around that makes them a pain! That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Mine’s acting weird too.”

“Yeah?” said Scootaloo.

Sweetie nodded. “She’s making me stay with Rarity again, and that’s fun, but it’s like she’s punishing me or something. How can you punish somepony by giving them something nice? But that’s what it’s like. She’s mad and she acts like I smell funny and she doesn’t even want to talk to me but she’s letting me stay with Rarity, so I’ll be in town for a while! Are you excited?”

Scootaloo rolled her eyes. “Wh’ts up with you, Sweetie Belle? You’re extra b’ncy. Ponyville is that exciting? It’s pretty lame if you ask me.”

“Never mind that!” squeaked Sweetie. “Why would my Mom act like I smell bad?”

Scootaloo made a face, and sniffed the air. “Cause you do. Duh.” She resumed shoveling.

“I do not!”

“Oh, n’w you’re gonna be a pain, too?”

Sweetie gulped. “I… smell funny? I didn’t notice. It’s not bad… right?”

“No, it’s bad,” said Scootaloo, throwing another shovelful of snow on the pile. “Maybe you caught the plague or something?”

“Scootaloo!” squeaked Sweetie in outrage.

There was a rap at the window, and Flight’s voice came through it. “If you have friends out there, just keep shoveling, all right, sweetie?”

Sweetie Belle blinked.

Scootaloo smirked. “Not you. Me. All r’ght!” she yelled back, to Flight Lightning’s apparent satisfaction.

Sweetie’s lip quivered. “But… how can I smell bad? What did I do? I don’t want Mom to be mad at me any more. Is it really bad? Why can’t I tell? Maybe I’m sick because I feel all weird and funny…”

Scootaloo continued shoveling. “Maybe. Do you have a fever? It smells like you have a big fever from some kind of weird sickness. Don’t get near me, I don’t want to catch it!”

“Oh, this is awful,” whimpered Sweetie, “Rarity’s gonna kill me! She’ll never let me stay with her if I smell funny! Do you really think I’m sick? Maybe she’ll take care of me instead of being mad if I’m really sick.”

Scootaloo considered this. “C’tie Mark Cr’sader snow sh’veling med’cal doctor! What’re the symptoms, p’tient?”

Sweetie gulped, her eyes wide. “I feel kind of dizzy… and I can’t pay attention to things. And my mom thinks I smell funny or something. And… I have a notanitch.”

Scootaloo dropped the shovel. “What the heck is a notanitch? You really are a dictionary!”

“No, it’s not a dictionary word! But it should be! You know, when you have like a really bad itch, but it’s NOT really an itch, but it’s kind of like an itch except for it kind of isn’t?”

Scootaloo picked up the shovel again, unconcerned. “So scr’tch, then.”

“It’s…” Sweetie glanced around, fretful. “It’s my vajayjay.”

Scootaloo smirked around the shovel handle. “Does it feel awesome? If it feels awesome, you c’n explain to us what Lyra w’s talking about. Maybe y’re making babies.”

Sweetie blinked. “I don’t think so. And it doesn’t feel awesome, it’s driving me crazy! I’m afraid to do anything.”

“So scr’tch, then.”

Sweetie gulped. “But… it’s INSIDE…” she said, and bit her lip.

Scootaloo spat the shovel handle out again, staring at her in disbelief. “How you gonna scratch that? It sounds awf…” She blinked, and then a crazy grin snuck onto her face. “Sweetie! Do you know what this means?”

“Not really?”

“Cutie Mark Baby Makers are BACK! That’s it! It’s gotta be that! We’re gonna make some babies. Think about it! This has to be part of what Lyra was talking about. She said she wanted to kick holes in walls, right?”

“Right,” nodded Sweetie.

“Which sounds like something was driving her crazy, right?”

“Right!” said Sweetie, brightening.

“And she wanted to have a big penis shoved into her and make babies, which might scratch her itch if it’s like yours is?”

Sweetie’s eyes went very wide, and she whimpered.

Scootaloo wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Hang in there, Sweetie Belle. We’re going to take care of you! We need to get a penis—a Cutie Mark CRUSADER penis—and we’ll figure out what to do. This is now a top priority project!”

“Apple Bloom won’t let us,” objected Sweetie. “She won’t even admit Applejack has a penis making thing anymore.”

“You leave that to me!” said Scootaloo. “With your help, we’ll win this battle, and we’ll give you a good penis-ing and see if that helps at all!” She blinked. “Oh boy. You better not be able to get a penis cutie mark or I am so in trouble…”

Sweetie dropped her voice. “Do you really think you can get a penis cutie mark?”

“I never saw anything like that,” whispered Scootaloo. “Maybe if you get one, you have to stay inside and penis all day long so we never see ‘em?”

“That’s not even a verb,” hissed Sweetie Belle.

“Well it ought to be!” retorted Scootaloo, in a hot whisper right in Sweetie Belle’s ear. “It’s gonna be! I promise you, we are going to get you the best penising ever, and then we’ll all have babies…”

“Honey?” came a voice, and the two fillies froze.

The door opened, and out poked a magenta pegasus head, the same hue as Scootaloo’s mane but lighter. Her mane was white with streaks of lime, and her eyes were the same pale lime color and also concerned… at first.

“Honey, ya got real quiet, is everything…”

She looked at the two guilty fillies. A bird squawked in the nearby woods. Flight Lightning sniffed the air.

“Oh, no, no…”

Scootaloo turned to argue, but Flight was striding forward angrily. “Oh, no! No! Haven’t you got enough to deal with? Haven’t you got enough issues on your little plate? No! Go on, you, get out! Scram! Beat it, I said!”

Sweetie shrieked, cowering back from the angry pegasus mother that confronted her. Scootaloo jumped in front and stood her ground, glaring right back. “MOMMM!”

“Scram!” shouted Flight Lightning, and Sweetie turned tail and fled, the sounds of the furious argument fading behind her.

“Don’t you talk to her like that!”

“Don’t you talk to strange girls in heat, then! You’re not even that kind of mature yet!”

“That’s my best friend! Well, one of them!”

“Well… still! You stay out of it! Let her own family handle it, no matter who they are they’ve got to be better adjusted than this comedy of errors!”

“Who’re you calling a comedy of air?”

“Certainly not you, you’re like a tragedy of air!”

Pause.

“Oh, for… crap, crap. CRAP! Kid! I’m sorry, kid! C’mere! Please! Scootums! Baby, please!” sobbed Flight Lightning.

The voices faded as Sweetie Belle ran on, in tears.

Elsewhere, Rarity stirred. Her head rested on an awfully firm and warm pillow. She blinked, and realized it was Lyra’s crotch. Her nose snuggled Lyra’s pert green breasts, and her cheek nestled against Lyra’s tight little vag, stickily. Stickily? Rarity cringed, and peeled her face away from its naughty pillow. Lyra wriggled, but didn’t wake. Beside her, Twilight and Trixie cuddled in sleep. It was natural, thought Rarity, for Twilight to be adorable while she slept, but it never ceased to amaze her how adorable dear Mistress became in sleep…

Bathing. Immediately. Her face felt sticky. She was befouled, admittedly in a rather special way, but propriety dictated a wash…

Rarity gulped. The inside of her mouth felt just as sticky. Revolting, insufferable… if she hurried, she could slip out into the kitchen and drink some water or juice before returning to bathe. It was almost certainly too early for any customers to be waiting. Fashion never slept, but the fashionable tended to sleep in, after their own glorious debaucheries, so she’d be safe to appear outside the sanctum and raid her fridge.

She slunk out, blinking in the morning sunlight as it shone in the windows, trotting down the hall and sleepily fixated on the kitchen ahead, while some part of her mind shrieked and gibbered about the…

…dark looming figure that suddenly loomed over her, leaning down, straw hat as always hiding that little nub of a horn. Grinning, expectant, jovial, exploding out of her memory and into her horrified morning.

Father.

“Guess whose little sister is coming to visit her again!”

His eyes twitched over his shoulder. You could always follow his eyes. That told you everything, if you paid close attention. He grinned his rueful grin. Father was never really sorry. He just smiled as if he was.

Mother walked up, as if summoned by his over-the-shoulder glance. Her jaw was set, her eyes narrowed.

“Don’t even think of arguing, child, it’s important,” she said, in a voice that brooked no disagreement. “We won’t say why. WILL we?”

Father gave her the rueful grin. She wouldn’t look at him.

Rarity cowered against the wall, glancing back and forth between them in a panic.

“…apples…”

“And go wash,” said Mother. “You smell… filthy.”

Humiliated, Rarity scrambled to comply, trying to get away before she could see the contemptuous curl of her mother’s lip.

Steady

They had the decency to leave, right away, and allow her time to get the place cleaned up.

As Rarity gazed at the three sticky and sated unicorns sprawled all over her bed, she wondered if she was going to need a spatula from the kitchen to lift them. It seemed a shame to disturb them.

But then, what wasn’t a shame?

She shook herself, blinking away a tear and setting her jaw. “Darlings! Time to rise! I fear you cannot linger here today, more’s the pity!”

Twilight stirred and blinked, yawning. Lyra stirred as well, nuzzling her pillow, then making a trilling noise and groggily licking it. As her pillow was Trixie’s crotch, this woke Trixie as well, who made a little squeaky noise and awoke wide-eyed and vulnerable, to Twilight’s amusement. Rarity watched as Trixie put her Trixieness on, step by step assembling the appearance of the tough and jaded bondage mistress Rarity loved, donning the psychic armor even while Lyra drowsily licked her marehood.

It was a process Rarity understood and respected—the donning of the psychic armor, that is. She did also understand and respect drowsy labia-licking, but there was such a thing as a time and a place…

“Lyra, darling, desist!” she said. “Play time is over! I should have urged you to tidy up last night, but everypony was so pleased with themselves…”

Rarity’s eyes widened. Lyra had rolled out of bed. She walked over to kiss Rarity, and then slipped around behind—and Rarity felt that eager tongue now affectionately parting her own folds…

She whirled, with a flounce. “Darling! Please!”

Lyra pouted, and sat. “All right, all right…”

Trixie was kissing Twilight, but turned to look inquisitively at Rarity, her self-possessed air back in force. “Girl, do you wish help with your tidying? We are here for you.”

Rarity shook her head. “It’s you that must be tidied. I can handle the rest. Oh, Twilight!”

Twilight blinked at her tone. “What’s the matter?”

“Your horn! I am sure I have some polish in the bathroom so you can freshen up…”

Twilight crossed her eyes, trying to look at her own horn, while Trixie gave a low, throaty chuckle. Hearing it, Twilight blushed. “Oh. Uh… there’s a mark, huh?”

There was. The tip of Twilight’s horn was plainly scorched, a mark visible from across the room. She blushed harder as Trixie leered happily at her and said, “It looks wonderful on you, Mistress!”

Lyra’s eyes shone as she stared at the tip of Twilight’s horn, and Twilight shied away, stammering, “Um, I, uh… thanks, Rarity, let me freshen up for a moment. Great idea.”

“Trixie could lick it for you, to see if that works as a polish?” suggested Trixie, mockingly.

“Oh, me too!” said Lyra, which got her a sharp glance from Trixie. It didn’t faze her.

It did faze Twilight. She squeaked, and trotted briskly for the bathroom, blushing like mad as Trixie giggled.

“Mistress!” said Rarity reprovingly. “Some intimacies are, well, intimate!”

Trixie hesitated, studying her. “Yes. That’s right. You weren’t comfortable with that, girl, were you? We upset you.”

“It is… rather a big deal.”

“Hmmm,” said Trixie. “Trixie has not seen you squirt, now that you mention it… ever.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Tragic! Can, can we teach her about it? I want to show her!”

As Rarity blanched even whiter than usual, Trixie cut Lyra off. “No, you may not! Girl is sensitive, I always suspected it. The greatest practitioners often are—Trixie learned that in her travels—and Rarity is exquisitely talented and responsive in every role. And she pointed out last night that we haven’t got you trained. You haven’t even got a safeword, have you?”

“A what?” said Lyra.

Trixie sighed. “Exactly. Believe this, Trixie understands how you feel—Trixie didn’t want to believe she needed any such thing, but Mistress Rarity set her straight! This is part of why our evening was so adventurous, Heartstrings…”

Lyra’s eyes lit up, and she panted with delight to be addressed in such a way. Trixie observed it, and smiled. “You like that, do you? We’ll find a place for you, pretty one, but you must be gentle with our lovely Rarity. Oh—and with my Twilight, please. She, too, is ever so sensitive.”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed a bit. She wasn’t sure she’d put it quite that way. There was a difference between innocent and sensitive. One could be innocent and yet strangely callous—but Trixie was still addressing Lyra.

“Some unicorns reserve themselves, and do not offer their most intimate selves for mere pleasuring. She might be one of those. Doesn’t it only make it more enticing to degrade and use her, knowing there is this private part of her that remains virgin and untouched?”

Rarity’s expression grew more and more fixed, glassy-eyed.

“Girl!” snapped Trixie, and she gave a start, automatically dropping into submissiveness.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“You’ve never arced with a pony, have you? Tell us! Trixie will protect your virginity for you if you wish. You do so much! You’ve earned that.”

Rarity shook her head. “M.. Mistress? Girl has. Once.”

Lyra squealed, not noticing Rarity’s dismay. “Oooh! She eats you out so hardcore—I bet that’s why! Tell us! Tell us all about it, girl!”

Trixie shot her a warning glance, but Rarity was already answering, very quietly.

“I didn’t come my first time, but I almost did. I was just a filly like Sweetie. I wanted somepony to show me why I felt the way I felt.”

“It’s okay, Rarity,” soothed Trixie, “I played with the neighbor filly too when I was that age. It’s normal.”

“That so figures!” said Lyra. “If you get the taste of pussy early on, it becomes your whole world! What was her name, Rarity? Can you tell us?”

Rarity stared into space, as she went on. “I wanted more. And the second time, I came very hard indeed.” She said nothing about their assumptions, but it seemed to clear the way for her to make her admissions.

“I knew it!” cried Lyra. “Oh, Rarity! How many times I’ve seen you being all prim and proper, and never knew you were a wild pussylicking raging lesbian? Go on—what happened the third time?”

“Don’t badger her, Heartstrings! We are going to have to teach you some discipline!”

Lyra wouldn’t listen. She confronted Rarity, eager golden eyes imploring. “What happened when you got with her the THIRD time?”

“The third time…”

Twilight returned, looking curious at the discussion.

“Yeah!” said Lyra. “Come on?”

Rarity’s face was perfectly expressionless. Her eyes… were not.

“Mother saw the scorch on the tip of my horn—and then we were in very bad trouble.”

Lyra screamed with laughter. “Eeee! I’m so jealous! I never got to play around like that. It took forever for me to come into season, and then this one older EARTH pony swooped in… I’m so envious of you girls who got to play with your unicorn girlfriends and just have fun with it. I guess it’s not too late, huh?”

“Oh, I think we can come up with things to do with you,” smiled Twilight. “I suspect every one of us would like a turn with you…”

Trixie corrected her. “Perhaps not, Mistress. Rarity does not wish it…”

Rarity did not respond. Rarity stared at nothing with a despairing, doomed expression like Fluttershy in the closing jaws of a dragon.

“Oh, okay,” said Twilight. “More for us! That was incredibly hot, Lyra. I had no idea of your, heh, talents! It’s wonderful how life just keeps on getting more…”

Rarity shook herself, as if clearing her head by a mighty effort, grimacing. “You need to leave,” she said firmly.

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“I need to tidy up around here! I assure you, I have it all under control,” said Rarity, “but I had better start right away. I did not tell you yet, but Sweetie Belle is unexpectedly staying here. Pray allow me to dispose of paraphenalia and try to render this place child-friendly. Do you have any idea how many of my new product lines must now be developed within the inner sanctum? And you cannot organize for me, before you suggest it—my creative space must remain my own, darlings. Please!”

Twilight stared at the hoof-wringing unicorn. “Well… okay, Rarity! If that’s what you want, then sure, we’ll get out of your way! We’ll go over to my place for breakfast. Rarity, do you want to come have breakfast with us?”

“No time! No time!” protested Rarity, frantically.

“Sheesh!” said Twilight. “All right, then! Come on, girls, the kindest thing you can do for Rarity when she gets like this is to stay out of her way. We had her make six dresses for the Gala, and I’m telling you we should have left her alone that time too. Let’s go!”

She trotted off determinedly. Lyra, catching her mood, was right alongside her, eager as a puppy. Trixie took up the rear, looking more fretful, glancing back at her pet with questioning eyes.

Rarity waved them away imperiously, head held high, and they went.

She held her position for a whole minute after they’d left, like a statue, proud and composed, listening to be sure they’d really gone.

Then, Rarity’s head dropped, and she walked slowly over and sprawled onto the bed, burying her face in the covers and muttering.

“…stupid, stupid, stupid…”

Rarity began to pound the bed with a forehoof, harder and harder.

“Stupid! Stupid! Miserable! Worthless! Filthy…”

Her head snapped up, tears streaking her cheeks, eyes wide with panic as she stared at the clock.

“Aaaaahh! Less than six hours before Sweetie Belle’s school is out!”

And without a moment’s hesitation, Rarity bolted from the room, her tears ignored, to tackle the clean-up of a Carousel Boutique that now saw half its business composed of kinky bondage gear.

The three unicorns trotted down the street, having decided to invade a cafe rather than make breakfast at the library-house. Twilight shrugged off the expense, which entranced Lyra.

“Hey, being the Element of Magic and right-hand unicorn to the Princess has its benefits! The salary is great! Except I keep spending it all on books. Don’t worry, I officially have you covered! Now let’s talk about these special gifts of yours…”

Lyra was walking on air like a pegasus, only barely touching the ground with each springy step. “Really? It’s really that special?”

“It’s amazing to me that you wouldn’t know that!” said Twilight.

Lyra blushed, turning a very odd color. “I did know some things! I know what it does, and I had a feeling there was something special about it when I come that way. I was very proud of my stamina. For a while I thought it was, uh, Bon Bon, causing it.” She paused for a moment. “I’m not sure whether I’m really happy, or a little sad, that it wasn’t.”

Trixie was silent, and kept looking behind her, and Twilight noticed. “Trixie? What’s the matter?”

“Something’s not right with Rarity, Mistress.”

“Oh? Well, listen to me. I’ve seen her wailing and flinging straw in the air just because she couldn’t build birds’ nests fast enough…”

Trixie’s jaw dropped. “Birds’ nests?”

“It’s a long story. Trust me, this is normal for Rarity. Once she was flipping out because she couldn’t find a measuring tape… you can degrade her a whole bunch later and she’ll probably feel better…”

“Something’s not right with you, either, Mistress,” accused Trixie.

Twilight came to a stop. “What? How can you say that? Is this one of those things where I’m getting in trouble and don’t know it until it’s too late? But it can’t be, I’m terrified and anxious when that happens, and I feel totally the opposite—or at least I did! What’re you talking about, Trixie?”

“Trixie is not sure you are handling things responsibly…”

“What?” gasped Twilight. “Now wait a minute! You know as well as I do that for Princess Celestia to approve of us, I have to be in control. Right? I’m the top Mistress of the whole operation. I didn’t ask for that—you made me into that from the start! Rarity just wants to be whipped and humiliated—and that’s already making problems for me—and Lyra is just here to be sexy and a nice treat for Rarity. By definition I’m handling things responsibly because, Trixie, I am responsible! I have to make all this work in society and I have to cool out the Princess when she takes an attitude. I think I’ve been doing it all perfectly. What do you think I’m doing wrong?”

Lyra stepped back, her eyes wide, as Twilight confronted her lover, but Trixie didn’t back down one inch, even with a hyper-powered purple unicorn staring her down.

“It’s hard to explain…” began Trixie.

“Try,” said Twilight, her horn glowing ominously.

Trixie shook her head, thinking, frowning.

“And why,” continued Twilight, “aren’t you grovelling and licking my hooves? How can you say I’m not right when suddenly you’re all Miss Dominatrixie? That didn’t used to stop you from flipping into mega-sub-space the minute I scolded you, and now this? Come on, Trixie, now you’re worrying me. Is it because you can beat up on Rarity now?”

Trixie’s eyes widened. “Mistress! No, it… it… that’s it, Trixie understands! Mistress, it is because Rarity is Trixie’s responsibility now! And in a way, so are you…”

“Rarity is your responsibility? It’s more like she’s trying to teach US responsibility. All those rules and things?” said Twilight.

“She is succeeding,” said Trixie levelly. “Trixie has been a fool much of her life. Trixie has been a fool for you, too. Trixie owes you more than foolishness, Trixie should be learning wisdom the better to guide you—and lick your hooves when the time is right, Mistress.”

Twilight bit her lip fretfully. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. Guide me? I thought I had to be the boss of all this. You can’t really be an equal, you just don’t have the clout. I’m the one with the connection to Princess Celestia, I’m the Element of Magic, all that stuff…”

“Mistress, you are the Element of Magic?” said Trixie cautiously.

“I…” said Twilight, and stopped herself. She pouted. “Wielder of the Element of Magic, technically. Thank you for the correction. What’s with you, Trixie? You’ve always been so compliant…”

“Not always,” said Trixie, remembering a dark night and Twilight’s searing, light-pouring eyes, a night when she’d stood in Twilight’s path and blocked her.

“But… wait, I get it! Trixie, are you jealous?” said Twilight.

“It’s not that simple,” said Trixie.

“Aha! That is not a denial, it’s an equivocation! Oh, Trixie, don’t you see all the things I’ve done for you? These other mares, they don’t really matter, it’s just… just… bonus! Quality of life stuff, you know? It’s you who wanted to go talk to Rarity that first time, about getting some toys. If only I hadn’t listened!”

Lyra backed away another pace, her tail lashing, drawing a forehoof up.

“Steady, Heartstrings,” said Trixie. “Mistress! Trixie is not arguing that you’re not a wonderful Mistress, and yes, you have done amazing things with the Princess. Though Trixie played a part in that too—Trixie suspects it was her turning to the Princess for aid that changed things.”

“Then, what?” demanded Twilight, an ear flicking fretfully.

Trixie thought hard. “Mistress, you and Rarity ganged up on me. It was… shattering.”

“Yes?”

“It… the… I thought,” said Trixie, “that she was carving you up, torturing you. Her knowledge of pain is… ingenious. She did you no lasting harm. You knew that all the time, but you allowed me to think what Rarity wanted me to think.”

“…yes?” said Twilight Sparkle, hesitantly. “Where are you going with this, Trixie?”

Trixie shook herself. “Mistress, Trixie trusted you to be in control. But it is like you are inexperienced… trying to deal with a situation that grows more and more complicated, and losing control of it.”

Twilight just stared. Trixie continued, with every effort at gentleness.

“You allowed Trixie’s whole foundation to be undermined just as a ploy. You’ve done things with Trixie and Lyra that seemed to upset Rarity, and you shrug them off. And now you’ve offended Lyra and haven’t even noticed.”

“DAMN it!” squeaked Twilight, and Trixie cringed back for a moment, but what followed was not rage. Instead, Twilight gazed imploringly at her, tearing up. “I’m TRYING to be in total control, Trixie! It’s so important! Please don’t give up on me now, I’m so out on a limb…”

Trixie’s jaw dropped, and then she had rushed forward, embracing her lover. “Twilight! Mistress! Trixie will never give up on you! Trixie is so sorry!”

Lyra looked on in shock, until Trixie turned her head, looked her right in the eye, and said “More hugs, Heartstrings! Mistress needs more!”

Hesitantly, she stepped forward, reared politely and wrapped forelegs around the trembling purple unicorn. And I thought my feelings were hard to ride, she thought. Maybe this means they’ll understand me. Maybe? If they don’t just tire of me and send me away?

Twilight sniffled. “Thanks. Really… thank you. You’ve gotta stick with me on this stuff, so much is at stake. It’s scary. I don’t like to think about how scary it is. Most of the time I can tell myself I’ll stay on top of it, but it’s just not fair… I have to be able to control Princess Celestia, how is that even fair?”

“You don’t, Mistress, you don’t,” soothed Trixie. “She can think what she wishes…”

“No! I have to keep her in favor of us! We’re so lucky that that even happened, and now Rarity with the whip marks, and all this crazy fucking, and…”

“It’s okay, Mistress, it’s going to be okay. Right, Heartstrings? Tell Mistress it’s going to be okay.”

Lyra gulped. “Um… I guess it is? Don’t worry, Twilight. It’ll be fine.”

Twilight seemed to pull herself together. “Wow. You shouldn’t be having to tell me that. I better settle down. Do you think it’ll help if I have breakfast? That’s what we were going to do.”

Lyra made a face. “My legs are really, really wobbly…”

Trixie gasped. “Of course they are! Mistress, you saw what Heartstrings did last night. Can you imagine the energies that depleted? The poor thing must be on the verge of collapse. Breakfast is exactly what we should have, and you will feel better too once you’ve had some…”

They continued on. Trixie glanced warily at a cream-colored earth pony with a dusky red mane and a rose cutie mark, who’d seemed aghast at their clinging display. Twilight and Lyra seemed not to notice her presence—Twilight was preoccupied, and Lyra seemed to look right past her even as she ran off to talk to another flower-cutie-marked pony.

“So,” said Twilight, “Lyra. Er, Heartstrings? Is that something you could do… again? I should say that it won’t come between me and Trixie, in fact it’s important to Princess Celestia that nothing come between me and Trixie, so don’t be confused about what I’m suggesting. I just… well, I think any unicorn mare would go a little quivery at the idea of being flooded with so much magic! Sexually, I mean. It’s unimaginable. Do they glow all over? You know, a unicorn mare you… penetrate, with your magic.” She licked her lips.

Lyra shook her head. “I’ve never.” Her heart beat a little faster at Twilight’s attention, even as she tried to handle the implications, thinking about her position. Her only way into this situation was as a fuck-toy? That seemed… not great.

Trixie smiled wickedly. “Oh, you will. That is, if you wish. Trixie understands just how Twilight feels. Though, Mistress, again, be kind. You are making it sound like we don’t wish Heartstrings to be around. And Rarity seems to like her.”

“It’s okay!” protested Lyra. “It’s okay. I swear, I won’t come between anypony and anypony. I’ll do whatever you want, if you’ll just let me stay…” A pleading tone entered her voice.

Trixie lifted an eyebrow. “Really! Calm down, Heartstrings. One thing Trixie learned from Mistress and the ponies in this town is, they’ll make a place for you. Though it is possible that Trixie’s welcome was enhanced by her triumphant return in the company of Twilight and Princess Celestia…”

“But you already live here!” said Twilight. “You should be fine. Soooo… when do you think you’ll be recovered enough to, you know… light somepony up a little?”

“Twilight!” giggled Trixie.

“Do you think you could light up Trixie?” winked Twilight. “I can, if she doesn’t get too excited. It would be nice for her to have more of that, without having to hold back. She gives it to me so passionately. I’d like to see somepony turn the tables on her. Just to, you know… watch.”

Trixie had blushed purple. “Oh, Mistress!”

“I wonder if… okay, here’s a crazy thought. Shhh, lean closer… what if me, and you, and Rarity, all touched horns and came at the same time—and then Lyra unleashed that monster arc, and…”

“Not Rarity,” objected Trixie. “Trixie is telling you, something is wrong there.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Can I at least have the fantasy? I gotta have my fantasies so I can deal with day to day stuff.”

“Your fantasies are… special,” said Trixie, solemnly. “Heartstrings, you’re going to have to get used to Twilight fantasies. I guess she is sharing them with ponies other than me, now?”

Twilight pouted. “Rarity doesn’t allow me all of them. Well… she doesn’t allow me to talk about them. I can still have them, but I have to be careful to not tell her.”

“Can I have fantasies, too?” asked Lyra.

Trixie blinked. “Of course! Trixie would love to hear all about your fantasies, Heartstrings. Share them with us!”

Lyra bit her lip and looked sidelong at Trixie and Twilight. “I don’t know if it would work…”

“We’ll make it work!” said Twilight, encouragingly. “Why not? Let’s hear it!”

“I… I want a unicorn mare to do ME. Not the other way around! Or… I’m okay with it, the other way around, but I just want to feel that magic gushing into me. Not out of me. INTO me.”

Twilight and Trixie stopped in the middle of the road, stunned, and looked at each other.

“Uhhh…”

“Trixie is not sure she could. Er… Trixie is not at all sure. If you tried to relax, very much, perhaps meditated…”

“No!” protested Lyra. “No relaxing! I want to be excited, really let go, feel my lover overwhelm me and force my gushing magic back into my horn, plunge into me…”

Twilight licked her lips. “Oh yeah. I know just what you mean.” She winked, this time with her eyes still wide. “Oh yeah. But it’s Trixie who can do that to me, she’s very sexual even though I’m more powerful in other ways… and if she can’t… and I’m not sure she could, from what I saw…”

Lyra’s lip quivered tragically.

Trixie snorted. “Should have been you kidnapped into sex-slavery, not me.”

“Trixie!” protested Twilight, and then considered. “Though you may be right… I wouldn’t be that surprised if she could do it. Why do you say that, Trixie? What do you know?”

Trixie’s expression was truculent. “Trixie knows enough. Trixie has watched her squirt. Not Trixie’s finest moment!”

Twilight gasped. “You did? Oh my gosh! You watched Luna squirt? What was it like? You never told me!”

“You never asked. Trixie is glad you never asked…”

“But what was it like?” asked Twilight, as Lyra stared avidly, tongue hanging out.

Trixie’s eyes were haunted. “It cut through rock…”

“Oh my gosh!” squeaked Twilight. Lyra’s legs wobbled for a moment.

Trixie glowered. “Not for mortal ponies to play with. Trixie suspects she was very lucky to get out of there alive.”

At that, Twilight blinked. “You can’t assume that. Technically, the magical force of the unicorn stallion orgasm is already more than enough to boil your brain—that’s why you get the little char on the tip of your horn, when it’s really good. The thaumaorganic matrix of the horn catalyzes it as it flows through, allowing the stallion’s issue to fill the mare and inducing ovulation. Just because Princess Luna’s come cuts through rock doesn’t mean it would hurt you in sex.”

Lyra’s jaw hung open in shock. Trixie glared at Twilight. “Mistress read that in books, did she not?”

“Well, yeah…”

“Smell the burning rock and tell Trixie that again. Or, rather, do not tell Trixie another thing. Please! Trixie is sorry she brought it up!”

“I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “Though honestly, I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t kill you to take an alicorn. And… you might be right, there’s no way that wouldn’t overpower Lyra’s horncome. I think it would be really hard for any alicorn to avoid.” She blinked. “Gosh. My poor brother. Maybe Princess Cadance is just really good at relaxing? Now that I think of it, they’ve never once talked about foals.”

“Mistress!” protested Trixie.

“Sorry! Poor Trixie. You know once you get me onto a dissertation, it’s hard to stop…”

“Trixie knows!” laughed Trixie, ruefully. “Please, can we go have our breakfast?”

“Of course! Come along, Lyra. Lyra? Lyra!”

Lyra started, glancing at Twilight.

“We’re getting breakfast, remember?”

Lyra nodded. “Coming!”

As they walked, Twilight whispered to the beautiful young unicorn mare, “Remember, a fantasy doesn’t have to be realistic to be good!” and winked—with her eye, though the fantasy in question nearly had other parts of her winking as well.

Lyra, in turn, walked in a daze, stumbling for a moment as her high-strung, obsessive brain whirled, entranced, around the image of Princess Luna roaring and unleashing a withering bolt of horngasm that seized hers, forced it back, and plunged itself fiercely into her horn… half the time, she pictured herself glowing with the forces and withstanding them, pictured herself being impregnated.

The rest of the time, she had a picture of wild alicorn energies burning her up from the inside, horn first, in a flood of magic that would burn through rock. She imagined the glorious searing pain and release of it, as an unbearable intensity of magic literally tore her body apart while she came, her own copious squirting stuffed back down her horn heedlessly, the alicorn magic burning away horn and flesh until she was just a shell of skin and bone, held up in the form of the raging torrent of magic and willingly consumed by her lover’s release, to drop in a shapeless heap when the orgasm died: hollowed out, just skin and hooves, no horn left and a stunned, sated, blissed-out look in her staring, lifeless eyes…

Lyra stumbled again. What a way to go, she thought.

“There you are, darling!” called Rarity.

Sweetie Belle squeaked in alarm. “Eep! Oh, hi, Rarity! I…”

“Oh, Sweetie, what are you DOING?”

The little unicorn filly blushed. Her forelegs clutched the top of the sack to her chest, and she took another awkward hop.

“Sweetie?! Answer!”

“Oh, Rarity! Something’s wrong and… I just don’t want to stink up your place!”

Rarity gasped. “Sweetie Belle! Put down that sack this instant. We are going to have a talk!”

“But…” said Sweetie, and then she sighed. She lowered the sack, and stepped out of it, and a nearly visible cloud of pheromones wafted forth. Sweetie stood in the middle of this palpable aura of marely need, pouting. “I’m sorry! I can’t help it!”

“Oh, Sweetie! Of course you can’t. Come here, sit down. Is it bad, darling?”

Sweetie approached reluctantly. “It must be really, really bad, from the way Mom and Dad are acting! I’m sorry, Rarity, I can’t make it stop! Please don’t punish me?”

“What? No, no, dear! You misinterpret. Far be it from me to suggest your condition is intrinsically improper, when you have caught me being overtly salacious in a similar plight!”

Sweetie wrinkled her brow, thinking. “Huh?”

Rarity took a breath. “You’ve caught me being sexy too, Sweetie dear, and scolded me for it.”

“Oh! Oh yeah! You totally deserved it. You felt like this?” asked Sweetie. “Maybe now I understand the way you were acting a little better!”

“Indeed you would, and that is precisely the point,” said Rarity. “It falls to me to educate you on what is happening to your darling little body. And, I hasten to add, it IS a darling little pony body, and nothing is wrong with it—you mustn’t behave like you are to be punished for this. Handled appropriately, these new discoveries of your body can be—nay, are—a beautiful thing. But they must be handled appropriately, and this I will attempt to teach you: today, for it shall not wait upon my convenience.”

“Are you going to make these feelings go away?” asked Sweetie Belle.

Rarity’s eyes bugged out. “No! No no. But I intend to give you tools that you can use, on your own, that would help. In a sense. I warn you, I shall lock away my own property with even more privacy now, so make do with what I tell you, for I shan’t be giving you anything from my shop.”

“Awww!” said Sweetie. “Do you promise it’ll help? Nopony’s doing ANYTHING to help!”

“Are you sure?” shot Rarity, with sudden intensity.

“What?”

“Are you sure there is nopony, not ANY pony anywhere no matter who it is—who offers to,” and Rarity gulped and looked sick, “help?”

Sweetie just looked confused. “No! Nopony is even hinting about it. Mom started getting mad at me, and Dad stopped hugging me, and they won’t even talk to me now and if it wasn’t for Sc… um, nope! Nopony at all is going to help!”

Rarity missed the little cover-up, because Sweetie rapidly put on a convincing look of woebegone helplessness—and because she was nearly falling over with relief, her mind racing ahead already to what she must convey to Sweetie.

“Well, first of all, although it may be hard to believe—be glad of it, darling. Trust me. Later in life you will be grateful for prudence shown at this time. Again, I promise to explain some coping mechanisms you may resort to, but the first order of business is, do not let anypony, ANY pony, ‘help’ you with these feelings just yet. Do we understand each other?”

“Yes, Rarity,” said Sweetie obediently, figuring that Scootaloo’s plans would be bad to bring up.

“Do you understand? Nopony is to do things with you to relieve your stresses. Repeat it for me!”

“Nopony is to do things with me to relieve my stresses,” said Sweetie. “Sheesh. Me and Scootaloo already figured out this is that baby making stuff! I guess that is the worst thing ever, huh?”

“I never said that!” protested Rarity.

“But you’re acting like something terrible is going to happen!”

Rarity’s expression was complicated, powerful, unreadable. “I… no, Sweetie. We’ll prevent anything from happening, certainly including baby making. I cannot say that is the worst thing ever.” She gulped. “I can tell you, however, what you are to do, so that your life will be simpler and easier.”

Sweetie nodded. “Okay! So, learn stuff not to do, and then life won’t be terrible and wrong. Got it!”

Rarity hesitated. “That is putting it strongly—life can still be beautiful, dear Sweetie…” She bit her lip, and then pressed on. “We’ll leave that for now! Your friend Scootaloo is quite correct. It is indeed ‘baby making stuff’ happening to you. Hence, the pressing need for your education.”

“When do we get babies, then?”

“You don’t!” snapped Rarity. “Not if I have anything to say about it, and I assuredly do! What you get is this: knowledge! And knowledge is power.”

“To make the babies?” said Sweetie, skeptically.

“To not have to make babies, until such a time as you can raise them as a grown, adult mare with a stallion of your own. It’s very important, Sweetie! Please attend. I swear to you, upon my honor, if you sit through some facts and information you must know, I’ll explain what you can do to feel better.”

Sweetie’s little ears perked up. “You’ll show me?”

“I will explain! I will not show you. Trust me, darling, you’ll figure it out, especially with the state you’re in. A hint, a tactful suggestion, will more than suffice. That part’s all yours…” said Rarity.

“Okay—shoot! What’s going on?”

Rarity took a deep breath. “Heavens. I am not sure how much you know. I shall ask. Sweetie, do you know what a penis is? What a vagina is?”

“Sure! I pee out of there. And we went and watched some farm animals over at Apple Bloom’s place. I even know that you make babies by putting the penis in the vagina, and… something.”

“Oh, good! This makes it so much easier. You know something.”

“I know lots of things!” countered Sweetie Belle.

Rarity lifted an eyebrow. “You think? I’ve already caught you in one error, darling. Fetch me pen and paper! I shall draw a diagram.”

Sweetie scampered off, and Rarity cringed and averted her gaze, for the little filly indeed showed all the signs of her change, and was leaving wet spots where she sat. When she returned with the pen and paper, she too spotted that problem, and blushed bright. “I’m really sorry, Rarity…”

Rarity regarded her levelly, and then her magic flared to life, reaching out and selecting what Sweetie Belle could tell was the most expensive piece of fabric within reach, a glorious red silk swatch. It swooped toward them, and Sweetie gasped as Rarity wiped up the little wet spot with the valuable fabric, and then folded it and laid it tenderly down where Sweetie had been.

“Pray be seated, darling.”

Sweetie’s eyes bugged out. “But… but… Rarity! That’s your really nice cloth! I’m gonna ruin it!”

“Sweetie Belle, this is a lesson for you! Your marehood is not a shameful thing, even when it readies itself for sex and makes demands of you that you cannot assauge. It is a precious treasure that can give great pleasure to you and your chosen mate, and it deserves care and respect. Sit on the cloth! Yes, I picked the most expensive piece, for you. I’m sure it is as much of an honor to the cloth as it is to me, to support you through this difficult time.”

Eyes still wide, Sweetie sat. A shiver went through her as her personal areas touched the texture of the new silk, which Rarity did not notice, for she was sketching busily on the paper, her horn glowing briskly.

“Observe! Voila, the vagina! What you have not realized is this: urine does not come from deep within the vagina. The vagina is not a big hole full of pee. It is a cozy nook, a special place for mating and sexual activities, and the pee comes from this little dot, here, which is called a urethra…”

“What’s that mean?” asked Sweetie, shifting on the cloth.

Rarity blinked. “Ah… tube through which pee is conducted? My point being, you’ve not learned everything you should know at this stage in your maturity, dear. Here is another one. What is this object, she asks in reasonable expectation that Sweetie Belle will not know?”

Sweetie gave Rarity a glare, and squinted at the diagram. Whatever it was, it rested under the vagina, because Rarity had drawn a decent representation of a tail above it, and even a cursory asterisk between them representing an anus, though she’d drawn it very small and sketchy. Sweetie wriggled again. She had no idea what she was looking at, but had an uncomfortable feeling that her own body was reminding her she had one, and it was pressed against the cloth.

“Good, good. Sweetie Belle, that is a clitoris. Here, let me sketch its counterpart…” Rarity drew rapidly, and an alarmingly convincing stallionhood appeared beside the vagina. “This is roughly to scale. It is, of course, a penis, and here is the flare, and here is the medial ring. And lastly…” she said, and sketched two slender cones, “and most importantly, horns! On this paper is all you need to know, certainly at this stage, and perhaps for many years to come. At least, it’s all I’m prepared to teach you. But teach you I shall—and I don’t care if it embarrasses both of us—for I am damned if I am going to let you grow up troubled by shame and distress about your natural body processes!”

Sweetie gulped, and studied the pictures.

“First things first—I shan’t explain to you how to find relief until you’ve satisfied me that you understand the rest of this, so attend! For a unicorn, mating begins with the horns. While you are having sexual activity—which I’ll explain in a moment, never fear—at moments of great excitement, your horn will discharge magic. As it does, your mate’s may do the same. The gouts of magic can link…”

Rarity trailed off, looking uncomfortable. She forced her mind off some private thought, and blinked at Sweetie. “Oh, sit still, darling, it won’t take long!”

“Sorry!” said Sweetie Belle.

“They link, as I said, and then your stallion—or at least the other unicorn—may drive the point of this contact toward you. If it is thrust into your horn, you experience a special type of psychic orgasm, and do what is called ovulation…”

“What’s an orgasm?” asked Sweetie.

“Nature’s little bribe!” responded Rarity. “That’s how it gets you to do all this with other unicorns! I’ll explain more later. My point being, it is this that causes you, a unicorn mare, to ovulate. That means, releasing an egg—you may also think of it as a sort of seed—to be planted in your womb.”

Seeing Sweetie Belle squirming again, Rarity hastened onward. “A womb is what lies at the depths of your vagina, Sweetie. It is where a baby grows inside you. You’ve seen Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash lately? Foals reside within their wombs. It is like a room inside your body, and the entrance is the vagina. This brings us to… oh, settle down!”

Sweetie blushed and sat still. “Sorry. I’m paying attention, I promise!”

“I’ll be quick. Poor thing, it must be terribly boring. You may return at any time to ask further questions, be assured—always, dear Sweetie Belle, will I be there for you. With my diagrams! Ahaha… onward!”

Sweetie sat determinedly still, on a swatch of silk that she could now feel every fiber of, vowing not to let Rarity down—and Rarity continued.

“This brings us to the penis and vagina, the physical consummation of mating! This part does not require a unicorn. I’ve shown you urethra and clitoris—around here is what we call the vulva, and the petals of the labia. If you’ve not yet discovered it, let me warn you that they play a little trick that can be alarming to the unaware. The equine labia can wink, like your eye! Except, rather than staying open and winking closed, they remain closed and then wink open, exposing the inside of your vagina to your lover. It is very likely an exquisite shade of pink, Sweetie, and very beautiful. You should reserve this display for only very special ponies, because it is also a sign that your body wishes immediate mating…”

Sweetie gritted her teeth, feeling a twitching under her, as her labia winked—and closed around a wrinkle of cloth, the texture vivid against her inner folds. Her ear flicked, and her eyes began, slowly, to cross.

“It won’t be long, poor exasperated darling! Sit still and listen until I am done. This diagram is roughly to scale. I am aware it may seem large, but you must trust me: if you are in the proper mood, the stallion can push his penis into your vagina and it will not hurt. Not in an unpleasant way, anyhow—again, you must trust me and not be afraid, when that time comes. Which shan’t be for some time, if you’re good and listen to my advice. Your vagina produces lubricant, you see. You have probably already noticed this: it is not pee, nor is it vile. It is there to ease passage of the penis and as such, is to be welcomed. About this much penis,” said Rarity, and indicated on the diagram, “will thrust into you, roughly to the medial ring. This part here is the flare, and once in, it expands vigorously to hold the penis in place. In orgasm, the penis squirts semen, which is the stuff that fertilizes the egg—waters the seed, if you like…”

“How much?” said Sweetie, trembling, beginning to sweat.

“Don’t be alarmed! That doesn’t hurt either, it is an enjoyable sensation. Perhaps a few cupfuls, no more than that! It can be a flooding or gushing sensation, spurting into your womb. I apologize if this is ‘gross’ or ‘icky’, but maybe that will help you stick to more private forms of relief while you grow up a little more, and that is all to the good! Even in the absence of ovulation, Sweetie, you may wish to avoid exploring sexually while you get your bearings. If I… well, anyway, trust me. Stick to the hoof, dear one!”

“The hoof?” whimpered Sweetie, her eyes crossing.

“Your secret weapon! That and the clitoris! With the aid of the trusty hoof, Sweetie, you can relieve your stresses safely and privately! I believe we’ve covered the basics, so I’ll teach you an old mare’s trick for feeling better. Not only that, I will then go and run an errand, dear one, and I promise not to inquire about anything once I return. Do we understand each other? I will explain this and then I am going to be gone for perhaps the next hour or more, and you’ll be alone and private.”

She studied Sweetie Belle. “And I’ll explain quickly, too, for you look far from comfortable…”

“You think?” squeaked Sweetie. She wriggled again, and whimpered, her eyes going wide.

“Here’s what you do,” confided Rarity. “This part here? It is the clitoris. You don’t need a stallion, or to do anything you might regret, dear Sweetie Belle. All you need do is take a hoof, and touch and massage this part. You’ll find it swells and projects…”

Sweetie could not disagree. Hers projected mercilessly against the soft pad of folded silk, and her heart pounded. Her eyes began to cross again.

“You try that. You may also be helped by imagining what I’ve told you—your body understands the thoughts even if they seem strange and unfamiliar. Just patiently massage the clitoris—gently, not roughly, with a hoof—and imagine the stallion’s penis thrusting into you, something you shan’t experience until much later. These thoughts are natural and okay, I insist. Oh! You’re quite right, rubbing yourself against something can do the same job if you prefer it. I’d ask you to please w… wait until… I…”

Rarity blanched, her jaw dropping as she stared at what Sweetie was sitting on—stared at the brand new sheer SILK cloth she had made Sweetie sit on. The hapless filly had gone red in the face, and her eyes were crossed, unseeing, a little panicky—her motions beyond resisting, any longer.

“Oh, fuck,” breathed Rarity in horror.

“Eeeh!” squeaked Sweetie Belle, her body jerking. “Eeeh! nnnh! ahh! eeeh! uh!”

Rarity watched, frozen in shock, blushing harder than she had ever blushed before, as Sweetie came. There was no time to run, or to do anything. Sweetie’s body shook, and her little horn glittered and then fired a spurt of magic against the wall. It went on and on.

Rarity stared, her heart pounding, filled with panic, and eventually Sweetie Belle subsided, her head dropping exhaustedly. Then it slowly lifted, and her eyes met Rarity’s, both sets of eyes full of tears.

Sweetie’s lip quivered, her face twisted in woe. “I’m… I’m so sorry, Rarity…”

“Oh, Sweetie Belle, darling!”

Rarity rushed forward, ignoring her own distress, ignoring her burning, blushing face, and hugged the trembling filly. “Oh, Sweetie, don’t cry! I blame myself, I ought to know what silk can do! It must have been a complete surprise, poor thing! LISTEN. No, first, let’s get you off that blasted silk, THEN listen…”

Rarity dragged Sweetie off the folded cloth, cuddling her like a baby, staying well clear of her silk-shattered young hindquarters while doing so. “You’re safe, Sweetie. You’re okay. It’s okay. I’ll give you privacy from now on, I swear it, but listen to me—you are okay! We’re just embarrassed, there is nothing wrong with being a little embarrassed! Don’t cry, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Sweetie Belle sniffled. “Really?”

“Really!” said Rarity, fiercely. “I’ll give you some space in a moment, but I am damned if I am going to gallop off and let you believe you’ve acted shamefully. I’m a fool to have sat you on that silk, child, but what I said holds: you are precious, and so are all your personal places, and you do deserve the finest cloth. Even if I forgot the tricks it can play on a marehood!”

Sweetie’s heart rate was beginning to slow, and bliss flooded her, washing her distress away, aided by Rarity’s dutiful and chaste cuddling. She wiped her tears with a hoof, looking up at Rarity in awe. “What WAS that?”

“That was sexy times, Sweetie. That was orgasm. I had no business witnessing it—but I would have told you it was a beautiful thing in any event. I… you… it was, child, it was,” said Rarity, shaking her head. “You’d better keep that cloth, it’s yours now. And keep the orgasms inside your room, please! They are private. I swear I won’t intrude on your private moments. Yell at me if I’m about to barge in. You can do that, can’t you, Sweetie?”

Sweetie Belle giggled, dreamily. “Yeah! I can yell at you real good!”

“Now, do you want me to trot off, darling? I apologise once more for witnessing that. It was more inappropriate than… than almost anything.”

“Will you help clean me up? I made a mess.”

“Oh, no!” snapped Rarity. “Not on your life, young lady! You are officially a mare now, complete with the urges and the orgasms. You’ll tidy your own darn labia, missy!”

Sweetie giggled again. “That sounds like something Applejack would say!”

Rarity stared into space. “You’re right, it does. I’m sure she would have handled this ever so much better…” She sighed.

Sweetie nuzzled against her neck. “I love you.”

“Oh, Sweetie! Maybe I’d better get up, you’re embarrassing me.”

“Nooooo! Don’t get up! It’s not like you’re touching me sexy, are you?”

“No!” gasped Rarity. She stared in horror at Sweetie, who gave her a stern look back.

“Rarity. I’m not a dumb pony!” said Sweetie Belle. “I can figure things out! You were all warning me about getting sexy around other ponies, right? You didn’t want me getting sexy around you, you wanted to go away and let me do that on my own. You even said so. Right?”

Rarity nodded, speechlessly, still looking frightened.

“And then you described everything so amazing that I did an orgasm anyway, which I never did ANYTHING like that before, ever! Stupid cloth! And you didn’t think that was going to happen, did you? And you didn’t mean to make me sit on that special cloth, did you? And then you saw I was freaked out, and you hugged me, you didn’t like start all touching me there or something, did you? Well, DID you?”

“Of course not!” said Rarity, her eyes wide.

Sweetie gave a little sigh, and snuggled against Rarity’s side.

“I was scared you’d be mad at me—but I’m not scared any more. And I feel so much better. You’re the most awesomest big sister ever, Rarity. I love you.”

A tear dripped down Rarity’s cheek, and she drew Sweetie a little closer, protectively.

“What else could I be?” she said.

Cabin Fever

Applejack blinked, holding the bucket in her mouth, and set it down so she could speak to her surprise guest.

“Aw, don’t you fret, lil’ scaper. Of course you can visit, whatever state y’all are in…”

“Applejack!” yelled a voice from upstairs.

Applejack winced, and settled her hat more firmly on her head, addressing Sweetie Belle once more. “I say, don’t you fret. We ain’t real fussy around here…”

“APPLEJACK!”

“Uh, most of us ain’t real fussy around here,” said Applejack, “and some of us is goin’ through a time, right now. In a minute, Dashie! I’m explainin’ something, it’s important!”

“But…” came the voice.

“Hold on!” barked Applejack. She turned back to Sweetie. “Ain’t nopony here will judge you for your natural feelin’s or how your body’s doin’ ya. Ah would just ask that you re-frain from carousin’, on account of there ain’t nopony here to carouse WITH. Mind you, child, it ain’t for me to tell you what to do with yourself. I ain’t your mother, nohow.”

Sweetie Belle smiled. Applejack frowned.

“Don’t git too giddy, child,” she said. “This ain’t just about you! Now, I ain’t Apple Bloom’s Ma either, but between me and Granny we’re about as close to it as you could ask, an’ I’m tellin’ you, no carousin’! Apple Bloom is not playin’ them games yet. Do we understand each other, missy?”

She gave Sweetie Belle a very sharp look, and Sweetie retreated a step. “Um… Yes, ma’am!”

“Ah won’t have it! Not in this house! Understand?” demanded Applejack.

Sweetie Belle nodded frantically. “Understood!”

“Applejack!” wailed the voice from upstairs.

“Will you hang on?” called Applejack. “I’m almost…”

“Huuurrrk!”

Applejack blanched, her jaw dropping.

“The.. bucket…” sobbed Dash from the bedroom, but Applejack had already seized the bucket’s handle in her mouth and was stampeding up the stairs, past Apple Bloom, who’d heard the conversation and was coming down to see.

“Oh, hi, Sweetie Belle—how nice! Now what brings ya around these parts on this fine day?”

Sweetie narrowed her eyes. The sarcasm was gentle, but the doorway Sweetie stood in was open upon a grim March evening. Snow still covered the ground, but it was being eroded by a morose grey drizzle interspersed with more snow, the overcast hadn’t lifted all day, and the whole thing was enough to drive ponies with cabin fever stark raving mad.

“I’m sure,” continued Apple Bloom, “it ain’t about you trying to make trouble around here with some nonexistent magic thing my big sister’s supposed to have.”

“Of course not!” exclaimed Sweetie Belle, her hind legs quivering. It was kind of true. She had no interest in a nonexistent magic thing. An existing one, on the other hand…

“And what’s up with jes’ one troublemaker honorin’ us with her presence? Seem like I don’t see good ol’ Scootaloo standin’ before me, huh?”

“Oh, no,” said Sweetie Belle, truthfully.

“Good!” grumped Apple Bloom.

An orange head and magenta mane immediately popped around the side of the door.

“What do you mean, good?”

Apple Bloom smiled a lazy, dangerous smile. “Ah mean, I got your number, Scootaloo. I ain’t no dumb pony. We voted, us Crusaders did, on whether to carry out your secret plan. It weren’t unanimous. So then we voted on whether a vote gotta be unanimous. That weren’t unanimous neither. Around about then ya hit me in th’ nose and negotiations got noisier…”

“So?” declared Scootaloo.

“So I know what yer up to, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. I love you both more than anything, I want you to know that. So much, that I will not allow y’all to go to th’ wrong. And I’m tellin’ you, so long as I stand here, you two are not gettin’ one step inside this h…”

“Land sakes!” cried Granny Smith, who’d hobbled over. “What the hay is the problem, child?”

Apple Bloom gasped. “Uh, I’d rather not say, Granny, it’s personal!”

“Then don’t,” snapped Granny Smith, tartly. “But you two children come in right now and stop holdin’ that dern door open! Ain’t you got any sense at all?”

Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. A tremendous smirk gradually crept over Scootaloo’s face—and, chin held high, she trotted into Sweet Apple Acres, stopping only to shake the snow from her wings all over Apple Bloom.

Sweetie Belle followed, glancing sidelong at Apple Bloom. “I’m sorry…”

“Sure y’are,” said Apple Bloom, weakly.

“It’s going to be fine, everything will be perfectly okay.”

“Sure it will,” said Apple Bloom, taking a deep breath, and girding herself for the battle of her life.

Applejack looped the rag around her hoof, spat on the floor, and polished, while Rainbow Dash watched unhappily from over her bucket.

“There we go. All cleaned up, nice an’…”

“Stop sounding like that!” protested Rainbow.

“Like what?”

“Like…” Dash shook her head. “Stop acting like you’re taking care of me!”

Applejack glowered at her. “We’ve been over this, honey. Happens ah AM. Now, you can like it or you can not like it, but all th’ same, you got to face it. Okay?”

Dash sulked, over her malodorous bucket. Eventually, she spoke again. “You shouldn’t have told me not to fly.”

“Consarn it, Rainbow! Carrot Top ain’t speakin’ to us no more! That’s twice now you’ve thrown up on her! Besides which, it just ain’t safe, why won’t you do what Fluttershy tole you ta do?”

“Oh, right, that’s just perfect. Rainbow Dash, hobbling along supporting her weight with a cloud! Are you kidding me? Get this straight, these wings will always be able to lift me, no matter wh.. rrrgh! hhhh!”

“Oh, darlin’! Is it them hick contractions again?” lamented Applejack.

Rainbow Dash had gone pale, and clutched her belly with her forelegs, her face screwed up in agony, ears back. “Take a wild guess!”

Applejack’s face twisted in woe, and she rushed over to cuddle her stricken mate. “Oh, Dashie! I’ll get ya some more water, they do say not drinkin’ water can make that there stuff worse…”

“Oh, yeah?” griped Rainbow Dash, head draped over Applejack’s shoulder. “You give me so much, I think that makes it worse too! I’m sick of… sick of…”

Applejack cuddled her love fiercely. “Oh, honey! It’s okay if you gotta cry, I know this is a hard time…”

“Hurrgk!”

Applejack’s face fell, and she stared wearily at the wall for a moment, still hugging Dash’s huge, now-quiet body. Eventually, she spoke.

“I reckon I shielded you from the worst of it, honey. And there ain’t far to go for the bucket…”

Rainbow Dash was blushing a dismayed purple. “I’ll, I’ll go get a drink of water. Uh, my mouth could use it.”

“You do that. And don’t fly!”

Dash’s jaw dropped in outrage. “What, not even in the house?”

“You are so heavy that it damn near blows the house down when you fly! Don’t you dare!”

Dash backed off, sulky. “All right, all right! Sheesh.”

“I mean it! You’re not to fly in here! I got enough to clean up!”

“Fine!” retorted Dash. She lumbered to her hooves, tossed her mane, and attempted to trot lightly out the door and down the stairs. The lightness didn’t work, for her hooves could barely leave the ground, but she managed a parting flick of her tail.

The stairs were a bitch, and Rainbow bit her lip trying to navigate them, and make the final turn to the ground floor. Finally, she glared back up the stairs rebelliously, and her wings roared into action—lifting her with a brutal outburst of wing power that nearly stripped the wallpaper off the walls, and allowing her to turn herself more elegantly.

Nose in the air, Rainbow Dash stepped decorously through the living room and into the kitchen.

“Well, hi there, Rainbow Dash!” said Apple Bloom.

“My sakes, ain’t that convenient?” said Granny Smith. “I was jes’ about to re-turn to my nap, little one, but can I get you somethin’? Glass o’ water, maybe?”

Dash yawned, stretching her wings, as Scootaloo watched admiringly. “Thanks, Granny Smith! That actually was just what I had in mind—don’t ask why.”

“Comin’ right up! There’s a little woodgie gudgie goo…”

Rainbow Dash winced as Granny’s hoof tickled her under the chin, and the gathered fillies giggled. The farther her pregnancy went, the more besotted the old mare became with her and her ungainly burden. Didn’t stop her from snapping tartly at everypony else, though.

“Yeah, yeah, all right! Thank you.”

Dash lay awkwardly on her side, for her legs were already tired again. The dark circles that showed under Applejack’s eyes these days were doubled, tripled for Dash, and for a moment her expression was woebegone as she gazed into space tallying the catalog of aches, pains and annoyances that beset her every moment. She smiled at Granny Smith, braced the glass between fore-hooves, drank.

“Are you okay, Rainbow Dash?” asked Sweetie Belle. “You look sad.”

Dash blinked, as Granny Smith excused herself and headed upstairs to her room.

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, “you look a mite peakied, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so. Anything we can do for y’all?”

“Well, I mind!” said Scootaloo. “You take that back, Rainbow Dash would never be ‘peakied’! That isn’t even a word, right Sweetie Belle?”

“I think it means agreeably stimulating. Or… engagingly provocative?” said Sweetie Belle uncertainly. “No, wait, that’s ‘piquant’. Is that the same thing?”

Rainbow cackled briefly. “I like it!” She ruffled Scootaloo’s mane with a hoof. “That’s right. I’ll never be peakied. I gotta hang around you kids more, can’t let the responsibility get me down. So what are you guys up to?”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened in startlement. “Nothing! We’re totally not up to anything. Why, what are you up to?”

Apple Bloom shot Scootaloo a glare. “That’s right. We’re jes’ sittin’ right here keepin’ an eye on each other like good lil’ ponies. We kin sit here all evening an’ still we won’t be doin’ nothing.”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Sounds boring.”

“You think?” grumbled Scootaloo.

“Maybe you can answer some questions for us and keep us from being too bored!” suggested Sweetie Belle. This time it was Apple Bloom’s eyes that widened, but she didn’t get a chance to object.

“Apple Bloom!” cried Applejack from upstairs.

Apple Bloom gulped. “Yes, big sister?” she called back.

“You bring me up a change of sheets, right now, darlin’! I got some laundry that needs a-doin’ and you can help put the new sheets on, and then stomp in th’ washtub for me!”

Apple Bloom paled, as Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle carefully kept a straight face.

“You hear, Apple Bloom?”

“I’m kinda busy right now…” called Apple Bloom.

“I ain’t askin’, Ah’m tellin’!” called Applejack. “Come on! I done scraped off th’ worst of it, I promise!”

“But…”

“You help your big sister, Apple Bloom!” called Granny Smith, from her room, and Apple Bloom gulped again.

“Go ahead, kiddo,” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ll keep these two occupied!”

Glancing back behind her the whole way, Apple Bloom trudged off to help Applejack.

“So…” said Scootaloo.

“So…” said Sweetie Belle.

Rainbow Dash glanced back and forth between them. “Yeah?”

Scootaloo glanced huntedly to where Apple Bloom had gone, and whispered to Dash, “So, when mares go with mares and make babies… does one of them get, you know—stalliony?”

Dash’s jaw dropped. She stared at Scootaloo, then at Sweetie, then sniffed the air—grinned—and began guffawing with laughter. “Bahahaha! You really are just like me, aren’t ya, kid?”

“Oh my gosh, really?” squeaked Scootaloo, lighting up like Dash had given her a big hug.

Dash grinned. “Maybe a little TOO much like me! You better watch out. Which one of you is it? I refuse to sniff directly at you to check. Why do I think this is not a hypothetical question?”

Sweetie glanced at Scootaloo, and admitted, “It’s me—it’s just me. My big sister says it’s okay.”

Dash’s eyes bugged out. “Rarity? You have to resort to Rarity for…” She paused, face screwed up, thinking and remembering things she’d seen. “Whoa. Okay, first of all, is Rarity showing you all kinds of crazy things with like, straps and stuff?”

“Oh, no!” squeaked Sweetie. “Rarity says I shouldn’t let grown-ups show me anything about this!”

“All right,” said Dash. “Yeah, good, that’s a relief. Rarity’s pretty awesome. I think if that’s how it is, she’s leaving stuff out. Um… which is good! Like, definitely don’t ask Rarity about the stuff she’s not telling you, okay? Trust me on this. I’m sure she’s being totally appropriate, maybe a little too appropriate.”

“What’s TOO appropriate?” demanded Scootaloo.

Rainbow Dash began to answer, then hesitated. She glanced back from where she’d come, at the stairs to the second floor and the bedroom where Applejack still labored. “Okay. I might not have much time to say this, so listen up, and ask questions while you can! It’s good you came to me. I’d better fill you in on some things real quick that the other ponies might not be comfortable telling you about. ‘Cos when I was your age, I flew around trying stuff out, and I could’ve got in big trouble a couple of times, okay? You need to know some things and frankly I don’t have time to be prissy about it.”

Sweetie’s eyes widened in alarm. Scootaloo leaned closer, eyes gleaming.

“First thing—careful around the boy ponies! You should be safe enough alone or with other girls. You know, exploring the feelings. Be careful about letting the colts stick their dick in you!”

Sweetie gasped. Scootaloo hissed, “Got it! What else?”

“Oh, I’ll tell you what else. I was just getting to that. Scootaloo—nopony touches the wings!”

“What’s the matter with my wings?” demanded Scootaloo.

“Nothing’s the matter with them!” protested Dash. “In fact, it might be that, uh, since they’re smaller, like mine are powerful but not the biggest, those can be more sensitive… so yours might end up, uhhh… really, you know… really really sensitive…”

Scootaloo blinked in astonishment. Rainbow Dash had unexpectedly blushed crimson and couldn’t look at her. She said, “What? When this happens to me, they’re gonna hurt? Or break?”

Rainbow snorted with laughter again, not meeting her curious eyes. “They’re gonna break you, maybe! In a nice way? I can’t talk about this… look, the point is, part of sex for a pegasus involves the wings. You’ll totally know what I’m talking about. I’m telling you, don’t let boy pegasuses play with your wings in sex. Maybe, never let ANYPONY touch them. You might want to keep them pure. For when you meet your special somepony.” Dash’s voice had softened. “I did.”

“What about me? I don’t have wings!” said Sweetie.

Rainbow found it easier to look at Sweetie, while she regained her composure. “With you it’s the horn. I’m not super clear on the details, maybe Rarity can help if you ask very carefully?”

“Oh, that,” said Sweetie. “Rarity told me about how unicorns merge magic from their horns to make babies, and then do the thing with the penis. She didn’t turn all red and look away, either. Is the pegasus thing like that?”

Rainbow’s blush worsened, and she grinned wryly at the floor. “Figures! I can’t believe it, Rarity’s beating me. Yeah, that’s how it is. It’s about us being magical creatures. And just because you have the two stages, both of you, don’t let earth pony fillies play with bodysex with colts. Like, if Apple Bloom goes all crazy for it, keep her from the colts so she doesn’t get pregnant. Nopony wants that!”

“Says who?” challenged Scootaloo, but Sweetie cut her off, saying “We promise!” She glanced sharply at Scootaloo, and went on. “What else do we need to know?”

“That’s probably the important stuff…”

Scootaloo had rallied, and seized an advantage. “So you’re gonna let Rarity beat you? Come on, teach us more. So when it’s a mare and a mare, which one is the guy?”

Rainbow Dash blinked. “What? Depends. Maybe neither. Why?”

Scootaloo went for broke. “Well, I hate to say it, but since you are having a foal, doesn’t that make Applejack a guy? Where does she get the penis, Rainbow Dash?”

Sweetie frantically tried to shush Scootaloo, but it was too late. Dash’s eyes bugged out, and then she burst out laughing again. “Baaaahaha! From Twilight Sparkle! Special order! No, seriously, now I really gotta straighten you out. ‘Cos something tells me, that bugs you. Am I right? Huh?”

Scootaloo sulked. Dash grinned fondly at her.

“Well, I can put your mind at ease a little bit—though I can’t explain details. But I’m getting the feeling that you don’t like me being a submissive, girly, mare to Applejack? Well, I’m not. Or at least, only when I want to be. Got it?”

“What do you mean, when you want to be? Why would you want to be that?” demanded Scootaloo, offended.

“Listen. Kid. I understand completely, okay? You ARE just like me, or you’re gonna be. And that’s cool. You just want to kick ass and take names, right? All this stuff seems like it’s gonna put you into a box and make you have to be something you’re not. Right?”

Scootaloo glowered, as Sweetie looked on fretfully.

“Well, let me tell you something to take with you, kid. When you do get a sexuality—and you will—it’s gonna be your own. You’ll figure it out. Don’t let anypony tell you what to do or what to be. And some things are not your business—but you need to know that I can be having Applejack’s foal, and I can willingly go mare real hard for her ‘cos she’s amazing, but all the same—I can still lay it down, kid. Be told. I can give as good as I get, if you know what I mean, and when you grow up you gotta go out there and demand just as much freedom to be you.”

Sweetie’s eyes were widened in confused awe, but Scootaloo continued to sulk, and then rounded on Rainbow Dash. “You’re just being more confusing! I don’t know what you mean! Are you saying Applejack has a penis, except so do you? Then why isn’t she pregnant, and not you?”

“Settle down!” said Dash. “You know why? Because I wanted to bear her foal more than anything. Uh, and also things got a little confusing, with the wing stuff I warned you about. Be careful who you play with!”

“But who has the…” began Scootaloo, but trailed off, as Sweetie was gesturing madly towards the stairwell—and the three fell silent, as Applejack and Apple Bloom came trotting down the stairs, balancing baskets of laundry on their backs.

“They givin’ you a hard time, Rainbow?” remarked Applejack as she passed.

Dash smirked. “Total third degree. Don’t worry, it’s cool…”

They watched the two country ponies head off, into the scullery, Apple Bloom glancing suspiciously behind her again as she went.

Applejack turned her head. “Come on, now, Apple Bloom. Don’t you worry. They can entertain themselves for a spell without you.”

“That’s jes’ what ah’m afraid of…”

Applejack laughed. “Come on, you varmint!” she insisted. Apple Bloom followed her, and the door closed behind both of them.

Rainbow Dash turned to Scootaloo and Sweetie.

“I better be quick. Both because we might get interrupted again, and because I gotta take a leak… I hope you find plenty of ponies who can tell you how the sex parts work, or how they THINK they have to work. Some might even talk only about colts and fillies… aha, Sweetie, you’re looking down, I bet I just totally busted Rarity. Is that true? Did she only tell you about colts and fillies, all the time knowing that I’m with Applejack, knowing that Fluttershy is with Pinkie?”

Sweetie nodded, bashfully.

“Ha! Got to give her credit for warning you about the part that could get you pregnant, but she’s cheating you. Listen. There are lots of things you can do with other ponies, and you don’t necessarily have to be mares or stallions or anything. You gotta find your own path. Maybe that’s like the usual way, maybe it’s real different. The important thing is love—and paying attention! I haven’t always been great at that. Oh, and show your feelings—Applejack hasn’t always been great at that. You have to talk stuff out, and there is nothing, NOTHING you can’t talk about. You can be anything, and you can talk about anything. Promise me that’s how you guys are gonna do this stuff, ‘cos I want to see you grow up right!”

They stared at her, dumbfounded. Rainbow blushed.

“Or, at least, what I think is right. I just thought somepony better tell you that you could be yourselves, in case that’s a little different from usual, like it was with me. Maybe it wasn’t my place to say it…”

“Y’all okay in there?” called Applejack, who’d heard a raised voice and then quiet.

“We’re fine!” yelled Rainbow Dash, her ears back.

“All righty!”

Rainbow shook her mane. “I hope I didn’t just get in trouble. It shouldn’t get you in trouble, trying to tell kids they can grow up to be whatever they are… I better think of something to make it up to Applejack in case she thinks I went too far.”

“You didn’t!” insisted Scootaloo, loyally. “Thanks, Rainbow Dash!”

“Yes, thank you Rainbow Dash!” said Sweetie Belle. “We promise to be us!”

“And now I really need to take a leak… one side!”

The fillies scuttled back as Rainbow Dash rolled onto her hooves and lumbered toward the door. As she stepped outside, they exchanged a look—and bolted for the stairs.

Apple Bloom tramped away in the washtub, stomping the dirty laundry in a little pony frenzy. Her hair-bow had come undone, and dangled ignored by her neck as she pranced in the soapy water.

“Whoa, there, girl!” laughed Applejack. “Ya fixin’ to wash th’ whole room?”

“Sorry!” said Apple Bloom, and slowed down.

“That ought to be enough, sugarcube. We’ll let it soak for a spell. Thankee kindly! You’re a treasure an’ no mistake.”

Apple Bloom stepped out of the tub, shook her mane, and began to sprint out of the room, but was stopped by a yell. “Hey! Hold it right there!”

She froze, and Applejack walked up and gave her a look. “What don’t we do? Hm?”

“Uhhh… track muddy or soapy water all over the house?”

“Shake off them hooves at least.”

Apple Bloom did so, one hoof at a time, and pranced her hooves dry on the mat.

“Good girl! Now let’s go join your lil’ friends.”

The room was empty. The two country girls froze, startled.

“Now what the hay…” said Applejack.

Apple Bloom bit her lip, and trotted in place, beside herself with anxiety.

“Dashie’s holdin’ her water about as well as an old sock with a hole in th’ end,” said Applejack. “You figure she went out to do her business?”

Apple Bloom could only stare, because she didn’t trust her voice to not go into hysterics.

“I’m gonna go check,” said Applejack, trotting to the door and pulling it open with her teeth on the handle.

“Good! You do that!” squeaked Apple Bloom, and as Applejack walked out into the darkening rain, calling “Dashie?”, Apple Bloom whirled and bolted up the stairs as fast as she could run.

There was nopony in sight outside, though there was a heart-shaped piss-hole in the snow that had probably taken considerable hip-dexterity to make.

“Dashie?”

Apple Bloom burst through the door into her sister’s room and screeched to a halt, her expression a battle between horror and implicit mayhem.

On the bed, her sister’s bed, lay Scootaloo. She laid on her back, a shiny thing in her mouth, legs spread.

Sweetie was in sneak position, caught creeping trepidatiously towards Scootaloo’s crotch. Her eyes were very wide, and her lip quivered as she took in Apple Bloom’s irate gaze.

And between Scootaloo’s legs drooped a magically induced penis, russet-orange shading to magenta at the tip, half-erect if that… lolling foolishly across her inner thigh, and quivering with her heartbeat.

There was a moment of silence.

“Awww,” said Scootaloo. “We w’re j’st g’tting it to w’rk!”

“Ah will kill both of you,” said Apple Bloom, in a building litany of fury. “Ah will beat you to death with each other’s fool heads, I will rip that there thing off and choke you both with it…”

Scootaloo glared at Apple Bloom, biting down harder. And blinked. The penis had swelled up a little. It still lolled foolishly, but it looked like it was trying to stand up.

“It l’kes y’r yelling! Ha!”

Apple Bloom stepped forward, gritting her teeth in a snarl, as a thud from outside shook the house…

“Dashie?” called Applejack.

“Check this out!” came a voice from above.

Applejack glanced up in alarm, to see Rainbow Dash grinning and teetering on a scrap of rain-cloud. Her wings fluttered as she coaxed it groundward.

“I think I can even whack it and get some little bitty lightning zaps out of it! For when the kids are mischeivous, right?”

“You git down here right now!” demanded Applejack. “You’re not to fly!”

Dash rolled her eyes. “Exactly! Give me a minute, the thing is cranky. White clouds are so docile compared to this stuff. I dunno, though, maybe I should save a patch of this storm cloud. I think it suits me…”

“Right now! Rainbow Dash!” pleaded Applejack.

“Well, you could be a little more grateful,” complained Dash. “It’s all very well for Fluttershy to support herself with fluffy cumulus, but you know I can’t face that. I think it’s, like, a real breakthrough that I figured out how to do this kinda thing my way. Almost there… you gotta admit, radicalness factor is good, right? And all I need is a little balancing practice and I won’t… whooa!”

Applejack went white, seeing Dash’s weight shift, seeing her lover topple off the cranky-looking tuft of thundercloud… and she dove forward in a frantic, desperate lunge.

The cloud tuft squirted one way, and Rainbow fell the other, wings whipping out, but too low to easily catch herself without time for a few good wingbeats—and she landed squarely on Applejack’s outstretched body, grinding her into the slush.

“Oof!” said Dash. “Slipped out from under me! Thanks, AJ… uh, Applejack… uh… Boss? I think I might as well go in now and… wait for another day… to…”

Applejack struggled to her hooves, panting and wincing in obvious pain from the crushing force of her pregnant mate slamming her into the ground, and turned to face Dash.

Her eyes were filled with rage, her teeth bared.

“Git inside. Now!”

Dash retreated a pace, her ears laid back…

Apple Bloom was losing her shit.

“PUT. IT. BACK!” she hissed, big ominous spaces between the words. “What the hay is wrong with you?”

Instead of moving towards the drawer, Scootaloo rolled and got to her hooves, advancing towards Apple Bloom. The penis swung under her, and started to jut forward but didn’t quite make it. It bobbled confusedly, as if it wasn’t sure whether to be stiff or limp, as Scootaloo demanded, “M’ke me!”

“What is it, messin’ with your brain?” snarled Apple Bloom. “And you, stop starin’ at it, Sweetie Belle! It’s disgustin’!”

Sweetie began to argue, “No it isn’t…” but then all three fillies froze in their tracks.

The door banged open downstairs, and the house was suddenly full of angry shouting, and ponies galloping up the stairs toward them.

“It’s not fair! You’re being totally unreasonable!”

“Unreasonable? Me, unreasonable? How dare you say them words, you almost splatted like a rotten pumpkin!”

“What?! That’s what I am to you now? A rotten pumpkin?”

“Seem like that’s what your head resemble!”

Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo had one instant to respond, as the adult ponies thundered toward them.

“Under th’ bed!” squeaked Apple Bloom.

The bedroom door slammed open so hard it banged against the wall, and Rainbow Dash ran in, looking back over her shoulder in outrage, as three little pony tails disappeared from sight under the bed.

Applejack appeared in the doorway, nostrils flared, snorting in fury, and stalked forward.

“Do I got to tie you up with my rope? Huh? What’s it gonna take, Rainbow? This whole family is countin’ on th’ blessing of a new foal, and you are endangerin’ him every step of th’ way!”

“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you!” screamed Rainbow Dash, shaking. “I was trying to be more safe! I was gonna stop flying! For YOU!”

“It ain’t about me, and that’s a real nice way to stop flyin’, ain’t it? Let’s all just go up to th’ clouds and then stop flyin’! That’s great!”

Applejack’s countenance was fierce. She stamped a hoof against the floor with a resounding bang, and she glared. The tendons stood out in her neck, the dark circles under her eyes added grimness to her look, and she showed the effect of every grueling week of the long, cooped-up, frustrating winter. Applejack had worked impossibly hard to rein in her temper over the dark, cold months stuck indoors away from her fields, and everything suggested that she was right at the end of her rope.

It was nothing, nothing… compared to the rage of Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow shook, teeth gritted, her head low, fixing Applejack with a murderous stare. Her ears were pinned back so hard it was like she was wearing a pony helmet, completely flattened against her head. Breath hissed through her teeth. And while Applejack’s posture was haughty and proud, her head raised high and contemptuous in her outburst of temper, Dash’s glowering slouch didn’t look submissive, and her flattened ears didn’t look submissive. The impression was more that Dash trembled a hairsbreath from whirling around and kicking Applejack in the chin—or rearing with flying hooves and striking down her infuriating mate.

Rainbow squinted her eyes shut with a horrible grimace, drawing a breath, fighting to speak coherently. “I was… doing… what Fluttershy told me to do…”

“Bit late for that now, ain’t it?” yelled Applejack. “If I hain’t been there, boom! I am damned if I am gonna allow it! I thought I could trust you, Rainbow! I guess I jes’ can’t!”

Rainbow made a strangled, painful noise, her eyes still shut as she tried to fight off her outrage. Her wings flapped violently, as if she’d instinctively tried to take to the air, and then arched out, poised for a launch, as she crouched lower—and let out a wordless scream.

And then, the words poured out of her, unstoppably.

“Get out! Go away, get out of my sight! I hate you, you suck at being a mate, I can’t do anything to please you! I’m sorry I ever loved you—I must have been wrong! Go away!”

Applejack’s head lifted higher, her face locked in a terrible scowl. She didn’t move a muscle at first, just stared down at Dash who crouched shaking in rage, looking like she was about to attack…

Applejack gave a little nod, mouth clamped tightly shut, still looking mad enough to spit. She turned around, very slowly and deliberately, and she walked away, each step echoing in the silence of the house, her slush-stained hips canting easily as she strode out of the room, and out of Dash’s sight.

Applejack’s steady walk didn’t slow as she headed down the stairs. It paused as she pulled the door open, and then resumed as she left the house—and then, there was a subdued bang, as Applejack pulled the door closed again. She wouldn’t have been able to kick it shut in any event, for it opened inward. And she hadn’t slammed it in an over-the-top, rageful way. Applejack had shut the door behind her with only the force necessary.

And a little more—just to make the point.

The kids under the bed listened, terrified, as Rainbow Dash banged a forehoof on the floor. This apparently wasn’t enough for her, and they clutched each other as Dash let out a horrible scream that surely tore her larynx up inside. It wasn’t the sort of scream like you’d hear from a pony being terribly injured—it was what you’d expect to hear from a pony about to inflict the injury, and the Crusaders cowered, waiting for Rainbow Dash to charge outside and try to attack Applejack.

But there was only silence.

Then, a weak, mewling, keening sound.

“…mmmmmmm…”

A faint noise merged with Dash’s voice. Sweetie Belle saw the cause. A teardrop splashed against the floorboards, soaked up instantly by the bone-dry wood, that had dried right up after a winter of fires in the fireplace with ponies huddled together for warmth.

“…aaaaaaaaahhh, mnaaaaaaaahh…”

Rainbow’s cry built and built, like she was trying to suppress it and just couldn’t.

Apple Bloom glared at Scootaloo, who still had the stolen bit in her mouth. Scootaloo looked stricken. Gently, she put the bit down, feeling what had become a fully stiff penis shrink quietly up and go away. Scootaloo bowed her head, grimacing as she heard Dash’s voice.

“…nwwwaaaaahh, aaaaahahah, haaaaahhh… Haaaaaahhh…”

It was horrible, gut-wrenching. She seemed stuck there, wailing in more and more agony, trapped between her fiercely expressed words and their obvious consequences, and then suddenly she was not. The Crusaders heard a scraping noise, the clatter of hooves against floorboards: Rainbow Dash was staggering forward, unfreezing from her internal battle between pride and pain, and pain had won—conclusively.

“….waaaaaah! Nuuuu, Applejaaaack! Nuuuu… come baaaaack…”

They listened as the despairing pegasus stumbled blindly down the stairs, her hoof-falls heavy from the weight of her advanced pregnancy. She pulled the door open, and staggered out into the snow, and they could hear no more.

Apple Bloom drew a deep breath.

“Put it back, Scootaloo. Right now. Ah am ashamed of you both.”

Scootaloo bent her head, and grasped the bit again. She winced, as an erection shot out and scrunched against the floor, but she wriggled sidewise from under the bed and zipped over to the bedside dresser, putting the bit down for a moment, pulling the drawer open, grabbing the bit with another sproing of penis that both Apple Bloom and Sweetie stared at—and placing it in the drawer, nudging it closed again with her nose.

Apple Bloom nodded, a sour look on her face.

“Nah GIT!” she hissed, and Scootaloo and Sweetie got. In less than ten seconds flat, the bedroom was empty. It would have been quicker, except that Scootaloo hesitated, to look down the stairs where Rainbow Dash had gone—and was dragged off by the ear, thanks to an impatient Apple Bloom.

Rainbow Dash pulled the door open, and staggered out into the snow, looking this way and that, trying to choke off her own bawling for long enough to focus, blinking away tears and wiping them with a hoof. Surely there would be a trail in the snow that she could follow forever until she dropped dead?

No, realized Dash. It wouldn’t take nearly that long. Applejack sat in the snow, facing away, no more than twenty feet from the house. She had to hear Dash’s crying, but she didn’t turn, or respond, at all.

Dash gulped, heart leaping to her throat. She’d said brutal, unforgivable things, but Applejack had only been driven this far. Hesitantly, Rainbow Dash took a step, and then froze, for she’d imagined Applejack rising to her hooves and continuing to walk away, and she felt sure she would die right there if that happened.

But it didn’t, and Dash forced herself to take another step, and another, trembling and dumb with terror but all the same moving closer and closer, until she could see Applejack’s face.

Applejack stared straight ahead. Her expression was grim and weary, and tears streaked her cheeks, but her jaw was set. Rainbow’s lower lip quivered as she searched helplessly for something to say to beg forgiveness, but then she cowered back as Applejack, still staring into space, opened her mouth to speak.

“Rarity told me there’d be days like this.”

Rainbow whimpered, lost for words.

Applejack sighed. Her eyes shut and squeezed a few more tears out with a wince, as if those tears hurt an awful lot to shed. They opened again, still fixed on the unguessable distance.

She raised a foreleg like it was very heavy, and reached out toward Rainbow, offering its sheltering embrace.

“C’mere,” she said. She sighed. “Dashie. C’mere. Ain’t gonna bite ‘cha.”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened, and her lip quivered—and then she’d rushed awkwardly over to press against Applejack, her head under Applejack’s chin, racked with ugly, ungainly sobs as her love held her close.

It seemed, after a while, like she’d settle down, but when she’d quieted a little, Applejack took the opportunity to inform her, “Ah will ALWAYS love you” and she was off again, wailing until she got hiccups and wobbled on her hooves.

“Easy there…” said Applejack. “Ya need to lay down? Aw, damn it, wish I could put down a sheet or somethin’…”

“Yeah… no, don’t worry about it… I’m always so hot all the time, it should be okay.”

Dash lowered herself and rolled onto her side in the snow, and sure enough, a mist of steam rose up around her.

“Wull… I guess jes’ this once. Darlin’.”

Dash looked up at Applejack, her lip quivering. “I’m sorry…”

“Ah tole you. Rarity warned me there’d be days like this. She weren’t foolin’.”

“How does she know?” asked Dash.

Applejack shook her head. “Dunno. But I want you to know somethin’… if I can’t keep both of you in th’ world, which I will do at all costs, so’s you know… Ah will choose you.”

Dash looked stunned. “Oh my gosh, Applejack, don’t say that. Don’t think stuff like that…”

“You hush. I’mma follow you around now, it ain’t for that much longer. You go on and have your freedom, you wouldn’t be you without it. Use them clouds or your wings or whatever ya gotta do. But git used to one thing: I want you both. An’ every time you fall from the sky, I will be there.” Applejack gulped, and continued. “I will be there to break your fall. No matter how high up it started from…”

“Shhh…” said Dash softly. “No more falling. I promise.” She considered, and added, “You would, wouldn’t you? You really would.”

“I…” began Applejack, and her voice cracked. “My baby…”

Rainbow Dash reached out, and Applejack crumpled to bury her face against Dash’s chest, shaking in silent tears as Dash petted her neck.

“I know,” said Rainbow Dash.

Applejack sniffled. “Both of ‘em, in fact, if you wanna get what you call technical…”

“I can learn, I swear,” said Dash. “I won’t forget this. You’re right, it can’t be for that much longer, this is getting ridiculous. I don’t know, though. I’m not sure it’ll change… afterwards. I’m… not really my own pony anymore…”

“I’m sorry,” said Applejack.

“No, don’t misunderstand!” said Rainbow Dash. “I’ve never felt so… valuable. Precious.” She gulped. “I’m, like, all the fucking Wonderbolts at once, all of a sudden.”

“In my eyes,” said Applejack, simply. Then she gave a little chuckle, adding, “I bet the biggest ambition you ever had was to BE fuckin’ all the Wonderbolts at once.” She nudged her lover, smirking.

Rainbow Dash cast her eyes downward, demurely. “Of course.” She glanced sidelong at Applejack, her coyness a gentle veil over the mending of her turbulent heart. “It took you to get me to dream BIG…”

Applejack sighed again, but more happily, and nuzzled Dash’s body, willingly joining her love in the healing balms of post-fight snuggles and cozyness. She knew they wouldn’t talk difficult things over for a little while, not until feelings had cooled—or at least, until negative feelings had cooled. Other sorts of feelings came flooding out as if they’d been pressed down by the fear and anger and could no longer be confined.

Applejack rubbed her face against Dash’s, wiping her tears off on pegasus cheekbone as both ponies smiled quivery smiles.

“Even if you can’t always use them wings th’ way you want… can we use ‘em a lil’ in another way?”

Dash’s wings lifted a little at the words.

“Twist my hoof, why don’t you…”

Reverently, Applejack helped Rainbow Dash to her hooves, and, pressed flank to flank, the two proceeded back into the house, and awkwardly up the stairs with fillyish giggles, into their waiting bedroom.

Scootaloo wouldn’t have stopped, were it not for the noise. And she would not have looked, except that the door wasn’t closed properly. It was cracked open, and it had been Rainbow Dash’s voice, without question. And the noise was a moan, a shuddering moan almost like Rainbow was in great pain—but different.

Scootaloo was fetching a dish of water, for the Crusaders were attempting the role of Cutie Mark Watercolor Painters with Apple Bloom determinedly taking the lead, but when she heard the noise and saw the door, she had to peek.

She froze, with a faint dismayed squeak, and her wings sprang up, and she just stared in fascinated horror and disbelief.

Rainbow Dash lay on the bed, her belly facing the door. Scootaloo couldn’t see her head, or most of Applejack, who lay behind her, a foreleg wrapping around Dash’s pregnant bulk. What was all too visible was Dash’s crotch, and Scootaloo gulped. Rainbow’s vagina was drooling a sort of ooze, and kept winking open in a freaky way, and it was all creepy and swelled up—the bottom part was poking out and Scootaloo almost thought she could look up inside her hero’s personal bits, which seemed almost purplish except where they winked open to a gleaming, flushed pink.

That wasn’t the half of it.

Applejack’s crotch was right behind Rainbow’s, and Scootaloo thought she could see the regular mare parts, but her attention was seized by a huge, ugly penis jutting out of Applejack. It was terrifying, like one of Scootaloo’s legs, not even a nice smooth cylinder but all bulges and veins, extending out to a scary thick blunt ending that seemed to expand even as Scootaloo watched.

Rainbow Dash moaned again, winking some more, and wriggled her hips. Applejack drew hers back, aiming that enormous scary shaft.

Down the hall, Sweetie poked her head out, and whispered, “Scootaloo?”

“…come here!” hissed Scootaloo. “Now!”

Sweetie ran up, her noises covered by Rainbow’s lewd moaning, and Scootaloo lowered her head to make room for Sweetie to peek as well. And Sweetie froze too, her eyes wide in shock.

Inside the room, Applejack’s hips pushed, and the bulky swollen flare shoved hard against Rainbow’s vagina, making her wail and writhe. The light glinted off her juicy marehood and gentle squelching noises merged with her cries, and then Applejack grunted and shoved harder…

Both fillies let out little shrieks of terror, but they were drowned out by Rainbow’s wild, ragged scream of pleasure. Applejack’s fat cock transfixed her, prying her marehood wide, vulva bulging out visibly to the sides as the stallion bulk crammed into her. She kicked her legs out behind, stretched in trembling tightness as if overcome with sweet agony.

And Applejack tugged a few inches of glistening shaft out for a moment—the friction tugging pegasus vagina along with it, forming a little cone tipped with labia around the withdrawing cock, evidence that the withdrawal dragged along Dash’s very insides—and then gave another mighty heave, and an impossible length of stallion cock shoved deeply into Rainbow, who convulsed and screamed a guttural, wordless cry in response.

It wasn’t a gentle, romantic shove. It was real stalliony. Dash reeled on the end of it, her mane unkempt.

Scootaloo’s and Sweetie’s faces were masks of horror and dismay. It wasn’t just how gross and glisteny and swole-up everything was, including Rainbow’s vajayjay—that was a gruesome shock, but more disgusting than anything else. No, it was the scale of things—the girth and length of that Applecock was terrifying and right out of their league—and it was the whole vibe. It didn’t seem like a fun game, it seemed horribly serious and loaded with intense, powerful emotions they couldn’t begin to imagine. Scootaloo’s look of dismay kept on getting worse and worse, as she watched her hero squirm on the end of what seemed like a sudden extra pony leg.

Sweetie gulped, for something in her soul resonated with Rainbow Dash’s lusty cries of ecstacy even while she recoiled, certain her little body would not survive such treatment. Her legs shook, and went weak in the knees over the conflicting desires to on the one hand do what Dash was doing, and on the other hand not to be killed doing it.

She had never had her body get in a fight with her mind, her heart, and her common sense all at once before. Everything about herself, everything she valued and respected rose up in rebellion, demanding she look away, insisting this was bad behavior, pleading that it was the height of uncouth and physically dangerous besides.

And that one part of her body ignored all reason and kept repeating, me next…

Apple Bloom poked her head out of her room. “Now what are you… oh, no, you don’t!”

Scootaloo and Sweetie tried to look apologetically at her, to move away, but they couldn’t—their lips quivered and their eyes were forlorn as they continued to stare like hypnotised creatures at the obscene, vivid, primal scene revealed through the crack in the door. Perhaps if it had been a still tableaux they’d have had a chance, but Applejack was getting into it more and more, and the alarmingly huge stallionhood plunged again and again into Rainbow Dash, to her indecent delight—gleaming with Dash’s juices, Dash’s labia quivering and splaying again and again in mare-ly winks around the intruding bulk, the sounds blending with Dash’s lusty cries.

Apple Bloom ran up, and went to drag Sweetie Belle out of the way, but in so doing, her eye reached the crack in the door, and she made the mistake of glancing inside… just in time to see Applejack’s half-hidden head move behind Dash’s erect wing, her teeth glint against trembling feathers, her jaws close on Rainbow Dash’s wing shank…

All three Crusaders stared, stunned, as Rainbow’s body jerked and her scream split the air, and then Applejack convulsed as well, and the fillies cringed as earth pony hips rammed forward, thrusting the oversized stallion-pole to the hilt in thrashing Dash, the base swelling up to stretch Rainbow’s labia achingly tight around Applejack’s spurting bulk. And for a moment, not one Crusader could move, as the grown-ups contorted and writhed and throbbed and clutched against each other in a cacophony of shrieks and grunts.

Scootaloo couldn’t stop staring at Rainbow’s wing, seized in Applejack’s teeth, shank locked in place, upper coverts groping the air drunkenly, feathers splaying and shivering as Rainbow emitted wild quivery cries. This was what lay behind Dash’s blushing, Scootaloo realized. This was something overwhelming and even sacred and she was butting in on it. There was no way it was okay for her to be seeing this.

Apple Bloom shook her head fiercely, and seized Scootaloo’s ear in her teeth. “Y’re done here!” she whispered hotly. “That w’s more’n enough!” She began to drag Scootaloo away.

Scootaloo didn’t resist. Her expression was stricken, appalled. “That… it… how could it, how… so big, so icky…”

Apple Bloom triumphantly dragged a defeated Scootaloo back to her room for safe keeping and the gentler pleasures of watercolors.

She returned, to more gently drag a stunned and staring Sweetie Belle away in turn, and Sweetie offered no argument or resistance.

Then, a little while, an observation, and a shameful confession after that, she returned furtively with a rag, and wiped up a little puddle of filly juice from where Sweetie had been standing… and snuck back off without making a sound, to rejoin her sorely chastened friends.

Peace returned to Sweet Apple Acres.

Gone Too Far

“But… does it make her happy?” said Lyra, trotting along beside Twilight Sparkle. Her brow was knit in confusion.

Twilight sighed. “I’m not sure how easy this will be to explain, Lyra. I think it must have to do with the pressure she faces as a dress designer. I’m beginning to understand that more and more…”

Lyra’s ears quirked. “What sort of dresses do you design?” Her eyes popped, and she bounced into the air in a fit of sudden glee, her saddlebag flying. “Ooh! Magic ones, right? Can I see? I bet they are the sexiest dresses ever, what with being so magic! Do they glow? Can you do that? Can I see?”

Twilight recoiled. “No!”

Lyra’s mood plunged as rapidly as it had spiked. She sagged, her lower lip quivering. Even the fashionable saddlebag, which held her magic bit and which she wore constantly, seemed to droop.

“Please can I see? I promise I won’t get them dirty or anything. I just want…”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant!” snapped Twilight impatiently. “I don’t make dresses, Lyra! I face pressure, you wouldn’t believe what kind of pressure.”

Twilight waited expectantly for Lyra to inquire what kind of pressure. Perhaps she might be the needed confidante: Rarity was worrying, it was hard to know what to think of a pony who begged elegantly to be degraded and also Rarity kicked up a terrible fuss over things, and Trixie—well, Trixie had no patience for the obligations of social behavior in the first place. Possibly Lyra would be more sympathetic to Twilight’s burdens.

Lyra blinked cutely, once… twice.

“No magic dresses? At all?”

“No, Lyra,” said Twilight exasperatedly.

“What about magic sexy underwear? That would be…”

“No!” squealed Twilight, stamping a hoof. “No magic clothing, garters, negligees, teddies, bridles, harnesses or kinky magic attire of any kind! Will you listen?”

“But you’d be so good at making it!” protested Lyra. “Please?”

“Lyra, focus! I was trying to answer your question about Rarity. It was actually a really good question, and the answer is very important in many ways.”

“Oh!” said Lyra. She considered. “What was the question again?”

“GRRHHH!”

Lyra cowered back. “I’m sorry! I started thinking about sexy magic underwear and I totally got distracted!”

Twilight sighed. “I guess that’s understandable. Anyway, you were asking if Rarity was happy?”

Lyra nodded vigorously. “I’ve never seen anypony orgasm and cry before—at least, not in that way. It’s so confusing! How am I supposed to keep her happy with me if I don’t understand what happy means to her?”

“And I answered that Rarity faces a great deal of pressure. Not nearly as much as me but on the other hoof I know just how much she cares about her fashions succeeding, and being accepted. And this year is the first year she’s launching her spring fashions when her kink line is public: she mentioned being unable to decide whether to make Spring more daring…”

“Here she is!” cried Lyra, and trotted forward briskly.

Rarity was just returning to the Carousel Boutique, carrying a colorful sheaf of ribbons. “Oh! Hello, Lyra, Twilight. How are you girls today?”

“Fine,” snapped Twilight, and turned to Lyra again. “Well, you just said the answer to your question, yourself! Just as Rarity’s pressures have to do with fashion and public relations, mine have to do with keeping somepony happy with me—with us! Somepony very important and powerful…”

Rarity blinked. “Twilight, are you all right, darling?”

“Oh, I’m just dandy!” snapped Twilight. “Anyway, Lyra, do you see? We turn to the bondage stuff because we fight so hard all the time to be in control—so it’s like a kinky release to be out of control, to be controlled. To be dominated, used. And that’s why Rarity is happy. Right, Rarity?”

Rarity didn’t look too happy. Her ears were back as she replied, “May I ask why this conversation has come up?”

Lyra glanced rapidly back and forth between Rarity and Twilight. “I only wanted to know how to make you happy…”

Rarity’s eyes glistened. “Oh, Lyra, darling! That you wish happiness for me, that makes me happy! Now more than ever, I appreciate such wishes, for I have much to think about.”

“Is Twilight right about being controlled and used?” said Lyra. “Cause I don’t really understand it, but I’ll do whatever you want if it means I can be with you girls…”

“Ah,” said Rarity. “Erm. Why, yes, in a sense. And then again, no…”

“ERRRRHH!” went Twilight. She whirled, and ran off, towards her library.

Lyra reared, in alarm. “Twilight!”

“Oh, dear,” said Rarity. “I believe Mistress awaits her, thank heavens. Do not be too alarmed, except perhaps to be a little tiny bit alarmed! Oh, dear! We had better drop everything and trot to her aid. Twilight does get this way at times, pray don’t hold it against her…”

They began to follow in Twilight’s path, Rarity leaving the ribbons behind, and Lyra quirked an ear and remarked, “Funny, she talks the same way about you!” She gulped. “Sorry! That was rude, right? I’m pretty sure that was rude.”

Rarity didn’t bat an eyelash. “Of course she does. The difference is, I vent on purpose, darling. Oh, dear! I wonder if she is suffering the effects of proximity to her magic bit? I find I must be ever so cautious with mine.”

Lyra’s eyes widened. “Cautious how?”

“I can only conclude it is something to do with testosterone,” said Rarity, “and believe me, I know whereof I speak! When I was enjoying intimacies with Applejack, I took great advantage of this effect. Perhaps this is why I revel in the submissive lately! I quite ran with it in those days—those terrible, wonderful days.”

Lyra’s jaw had dropped. “You were with Applejack?”

“Madness, I know. Do not misunderstand—her love for Rainbow Dash is unquestionable, our flame burned for just an eyeblink, really. But oh, so brightly, while it lasted. I regret nothing! Always strive to regret nothing, Lyra darling, wherever possible. Take responsibility, make your sacrifices, and carry on in all eventualities.”

“Umm… what kind of carrying on are we talking about, here?” said Lyra, skeptically.

Rarity laughed. “All kinds! Well spotted—I admit to both tenacity and the fainting couch! To return to Twilight’s well being, I suspect she’s not putting her bit away at a safe distance. I take pains to store mine a good twenty paces from myself when it is not in use, but then I have to. I cannot allow myself to become so, ahem, stalliony in the mind, particularly now that I no longer seek to out-stallion Applejack. Humph. There’s a regret, then—it’s too late now, but I almost never permitted her to express that side with me, and it was glorious. Glorious.”

Lyra bit her lip. “When you say a safe distance…” She trailed off, uncomfortably aware that she was carrying her magic bit on her person at all times.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me on that, either,” said Rarity. “I’m sure it’s quite safe. It’s just that the influence the things have, might be affecting Twilight. If it is a boost of testosterone, that would be oddly fitting considering their purpose is conferring stallionhood. I’m quite familiar with the effects. One becomes restless, unsatisfied, sees less of the beauty in things—one seeks conquest, and of course sex. Oh, my, yes. I find it distorts my artistic vision, draws it towards lofty and unharmonious goals. If I find myself bereft of daring one day, I shall strap it to my horn for a week, and doubtless all my designs will become dreadful and phallic!”

Lyra laughed a harsh little laugh, somewhat reassured. She had no designs to worry about, and it seemed as if contemplating the beauty of things was an awful, lazy idea, so she wrote off the bit-proximity thing as someone else’s problem. Anyway, she’d never felt so vigorous and full of beans.

Rarity was continuing. “To return to Twilight’s misunderstanding, one mustn’t think the life is about simply getting dominated, about building up pressures and then venting them through a good whipping. And I know both venting, and the lash! It’s critical to understand the empowerment aspect. Both parties collaborate to build a consensual reality that they both control—this is why we build in safewords as the foundation for all things, darling. The freedom is in being able to define any agreed-upon thing as permissible. And we all have many reasons for the kinks we display. There is nothing so important as creating a safe environment for your sexual expressions, and controlling it to ensure it is rewarding and fruitful.”

She blinked. “Er. Or indeed unfruitful, in another sense. It’s a mercy we’re all so capable of lesbianism and have such nice toys to play with. I confess that involving stallions hasn’t always ended well for me. It is so difficult to understand them—even Applejack, who isn’t technically a stallion at all…”

“Here we are!” interrupted Lyra, for they’d arrived at Twilight’s library home. Rarity drew back and seemed about to speak, but before she could do so, Lyra barged in, throwing the door wide and calling, “Twilight, are you there?”

“We’re in the bedroom, Heartstrings!” called Trixie. “Trixie is expecting you!”

The two unicorns made their way inside, and up the stairs, to where Trixie and Twilight awaited.

Twilight seemed fretful. She’d been crying, and she looked angry, and she pouted as she informed them, “Trixie’s gonna be Mistress tonight. Since I’m so dumb and don’t understand things.”

“Darling Twilight Sparkle!” exclaimed Rarity. “You are a delightful pony and there is nothing ‘dumb’ about you! I’d hoped you wouldn’t take it the wrong way. What must I do to comfort your hurt feelings?”

“Well, just help me out a little here…”

“Anything!”

Twilight fixed Rarity with a hard stare. “Soooo… it’s not really about blowing off steam by letting somepony absolutely control you and take you beyond anything you could imagine, huh?”

Rarity blinked. “That depends, darling—it depends upon consent. In some way you must collaborate—or it isn’t the life anymore, it’s something else. Something we shan’t speak of.”

“Soooo… define collaborate,” said Twilight, with a sulky look.

“Whatever is the matter, dear? What is eating you?”

“Fine!” snapped Twilight. “You want to know, huh? It was hard enough clearing what we do with Princess Celestia back when it was just me and Trixie. We let you come in, and I’m here to tell you the Princess recognized the marks on your ass from Trixie whipping you, and she had questions…”

Rarity had frozen, and blushed brightly, but Twilight wasn’t finished.

“Then we brought in Lyra, and from what I’m hearing around town her ex is now going out with Mayor Mare! Is that true? Lyra, am I hearing correctly?”

Lyra’s face was stricken. She could only nod.

“Well then,” said Twilight, “isn’t that just great? Imagine the zoning issues I might have to deal with, going to bed with somebody whose vengeful ex is sleeping with City Hall!”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Ah, Twilight… Ponyville doesn’t have zoning, it’s not like Canterlot…”

“I know it’s not! Every time I go out, now, I’m looking at the townsponies—and I didn’t grow up around them, Rarity, you and Lyra did—and I’m wondering what they would do to us if they knew what we got up to! They’ll run us out of town on a rail! Or they’ll never talk to us again! Or they’ll not talk to us while running us out of town on a rail and they won’t even talk to the rail!”

“Twilight!” barked Trixie, lifting a hoof menacingly.

Twilight relented, and looked miserably back at Trixie.

“Trixie reminds you that this is where you came in, a few minutes ago. Trixie has spent some time trying to calm you down, and now you are working yourself up again. These fears are unreasonable: you are a good pony, important and trustworthy, and nopony is telling you that you can’t have fun however you please.”

Twilight’s lip quivered, and she sniffled.

“Oh, Twilight,” said Rarity helplessly. “Is all this even working for you? Are we asking too much? Trixie is telling you the truth, really she is.”

Twilight sniffled again. “I know she is.”

“But you are so distressed!” said Rarity. She shifted from hoof to hoof, in an agony of indecision. “If your mind is telling you one thing—that you’re safe, as we and Trixie are telling you—but your feelings tell you another—oh, Twilight! Please, please, be honest, tell me what you really want, deep down. We will give it, whatever it is.”

She bit her lip, anxiously, as Twilight trembled and stared into space thinking hard.

“What I really want… what I really want…”

“I’ll go deeper,” said Rarity earnestly. “How do you want your world to be?”

“My world,” said Twilight, as if it was an unexpected thought. Her brow wrinkled, the sulky look coming back.

“But of course your world, darling. You just tell us what you need, whatever it is, even if it’s to leave you alone and unmolested…”

“I’ll tell you what I need,” said Twilight. She sniffled again and wiped her nose with the back of a lilac hoof.

“Anything, darling,” said Rarity.

Twilight took a deep breath.

“I WANNA BE SPANKED LIKE A BAD FILLY! With the fucking stingy rod! Until my feelings shut up and leave me alone!”

Rarity’s jaw dropped, but Twilight wasn’t finished.

“And then I wanna be fucked like a little bitch pony until I can’t even see straight—until I can’t even walk! With no mercy, none! I wanna scream and beg for it to stop until I can’t stand any more and I faint! I wanna be fucking taken and fucking raped, Rarity!”

Stunned silence.

Twilight licked her lips, her ear flicking fretfully.

“And then…” She gulped. “I wanna hug?”

Rarity gulped as well, but a little smile flickered around her muzzle at that last remark, and she stepped forward and hugged Twilight firmly. Then, she drew back to look her sternly in the eyes.

“Your safeword is Star Swirl, dearest. Got it? Star Swirl. Say it after me. Star Swirl.”

“Star Swirl,” quavered Twilight, her lip trembling.

“That’s right. Do you know why I remind you?”

“Why?” said Twilight.

“Because we are going to take you at your word—and do all those things to you.” Her voice was tender, gentle. “You want them for the same reasons we do—expressing and working through feelings, and bringing them to a safe place. You are safe here—we are safe. We are doing a scene. You are a grown mare in charge of your own life and sexuality, and you are allowed to choose such experiences responsibly, so you can work through your feelings and vent them and move on. When we’ve finished with you, I need a turn—I too feel stressed beyond imagining, and I understand your feelings more than you could ever know. I want the same things you crave, Twilight Sparkle, for reasons of my own…”

Trixie caught Rarity’s eye, and nodded, setting her jaw.

Rarity’s voice became dreamy, as she held Twilight. “In truth, I might have known these were your fetishes—the times you have become hysterical over the idea of failing to live up to the Princess’s expectations—why, you had us believing she meant to punish you cruelly, at times. And she never did. Did she? Confess, Twilight Sparkle—all the time you grew up, she never did punish you, did she? You always managed to be the perfect little student, and all the while expecting the other horseshoe to drop, and smack your disobedient rump.”

Twilight’s eyes teared up, and she nodded against Rarity’s shoulder.

“And even now, you go mad—in a manner of speaking—trying to maintain this perfection, and long to finally blow it and take your punishment. But you are too responsible a pony to genuinely cause disaster, aren’t you? You are too nice. You do deserve a hug, Twilight Sparkle, and you shall have one. I understand completely. Your Trixie, behind you, understands too. You’ll have a hug—after.”

Twilight wriggled, and tried to look behind her, but Rarity held her close.

“After what?”

“After this,” said Rarity, and gave a little nod.

The whistling crack echoed off the walls, and Twilight screamed earsplittingly and thrashed. Trixie had nailed her ass with the rod, full-on.

Twilight kicked and writhed, but Rarity held on with both forelegs, and then Twilight screamed again, for Rarity had bitten her ear.

“Again! On my count of three!” demanded the imperious white unicorn, and then hissed into that same ear, “Shame! We’ve got you now, you’ll pay for this! One! Two! Three!”

Crack! Twilight shrieked, and wet herself. Rarity glared. “See what you’ve done? Now we have to clean that up, filthy creature! Again! One! Two! Three!”

Trixie lashed out with the rod again, and Twilight’s whole body shuddered, a dreadful squeal ripping from her throat. She struggled for a moment, then went limp, shaking like a leaf as Rarity’s teeth closed on her ear a second time, warningly—and released, for a final speech.

“I don’t think she quite understands. I don’t think she’ll remember! Again, Trixie—and in the same spot, make it count!”

Twilight whimpered and began to hyperventilate, Rarity still hanging on to her tightly.

“One… Two…”

Twilight scrunched her eyes shut and began to scream.

“Three!”

The rod whistled through the air and slammed into Twilight Sparkle’s quivering rump, right on a previous welt. Twilight’s mind exploded in agonizing sensation, and her scream fractured into a shriek, and then the shriek in turn broke up in rhythmic wavers, her body writhing and shaking…

“There it is,” said Rarity with satisfaction. “Another hard case! Trixie, get your bit ready… no, wait, you should lick her for a moment first…”

“I will!” squeaked Lyra, who’d hung back watching wide-eyed.

Trixie blinked. “Why… yes, Heartstrings! Do it!”

Lyra scrambled around and rammed her head under Twilight’s rump, licking her little nubs of pony breasts, tidying up where stray pee had dripped, addressing Twilight’s fevered marehood to discover it a slickened honeypot of vented passions.

“No, no, Lyra! Lick her bottom!”

Twilight thrashed, and Rarity’s eyes bugged out. Lyra had gone for Twilight’s asshole, unhesitatingly. It had seemed quite clean—none of the girls went around untidy—but still, blue and white unicorns wore expressions of fastidious horror.

“No, her cheek! The welts… yes, there you go. Can’t you wipe your tongue off or something? Oh, never mind…”

Twilight emitted piteous, sweet cries as Lyra tenderly licked the welts on her rump, soothing the burning sensations with a loving and over-eager tongue. Rarity and Trixie stared at each other.

“Don’t let her go after Twilight’s vagina again, not until she rinses her mouth,” said Rarity.

“I won’t, girl, I promise,” replied Trixie, ears quirked sideways. “Where did that one come from? Is it even a thing?”

Rarity nodded. “Oh yes. Our pet is a bit of a ‘puppy’—not what you would call body-shy. Enough chat, we’ve not finished. Will you do the honors?”

“Let’s change places!” said Trixie.

“My! All right…” said Rarity, letting Twilight sprawl quivering across the bed, and moving around behind her.

“You don’t want to, girl?” said Trixie, taking Rarity’s place at Twilight’s dazed head.

“I’ll have to be more careful than you would, Mistress. Right when I thought I could relax and unfocus, wallow in it…”

“Oh,” said Trixie, “if it’s a problem…”

In response, Rarity reached out and took Trixie’s bit in her teeth. “N’t a pr’blem, it’s what she r’quested.”

Trixie grinned ferally. “I heard that too, girl. I’ll see to it my darling gets every bit of what she wanted. In you go!”

Twilight wriggled, mewling, and Lyra drew back, tongue dangling foolishly, trying to work out if the purple unicorn was attempting to escape—but the striped tail flicked, and Twilight got a hoof under her, and it became obvious in short order that all she sought to do was stick her ass up in the air, as Rarity moved in behind her, mammoth stallion meat swinging hungrily. Rarity lifted herself onto Twilight and positioned, as Trixie’s eyes narrowed in a wicked smirk and her horn glowed…

Crack!

Two screams rang out, simultaneous with a juicy squelch. Lyra’s eyes popped. Trixie had unexpectedly whacked Rarity with the rod and made her lunge forward, and that inflated horse-cock now impaled Twilight’s writhing body nearly to the medial ring.

The rod jabbed Rarity’s butt. “Shove!” demanded Trixie.

Rarity’s eyes rolled wildly. “I, I, but, if it…”

Trixie snarled and the tip of the rod prodded hard against Rarity’s alabaster rump-cheek. “Do it, girl! Hump her until she faints!”

Rarity gulped and began to deliver a series of nervous little shoves, her eyes wide, for she’d gone so deep into Twilight already. It seemed like there would be no room, and indeed there wasn’t, she had Twilight penetrated to the very straining depths of her and no more would fit.

Even as she nudged, she felt Twilight clench in a hectic chaos of explosive orgasmic release, crying out in sweet anguish like a damned soul being purged—and go limp, under her.

They held their pose for a moment, Trixie staring into Rarity’s shocked eyes, before Trixie spoke.

“She’d told me that was one of her fantasies—you, taking her rough. Good girl…”

Rarity gulped, dismounting from the heap of steaming, sated Sparkle, but two voices rang out from two different directions before she could even release the bit.

“Not so fast!”

“Now me!”

Rarity glanced back and forth in a panic. Trixie was hugging Twilight, who didn’t appear to have sustained serious injury—there was a hint of blood, but to a rough-sex extent, not a rush-to-the-hospital extent, and Rarity was experienced enough to tell the difference at a glance. Lyra was bouncing in place, frantic with excitement, and Trixie was grinning with her teeth bared and a commanding look on her face.

“You heard her, girl! Do Heartstrings. Now!”

Rarity shied back, lifting a hoof, shaking her head—and then thought fast, lunged forward while flipping over, landing on her back on the bed, giant glistening erection aiming skyward.

Trixie glowered. “Clever. So you want a workout, girl? Trixie will give you a workout you won’t soon forget! Heartstrings!”

Lyra bounced. “Yes? Yes?”

“Wait for it… Lick that pretty unicorn’s asshole! Only that, mind you!”

Rarity mewled with dismay, trying to wriggle back away from Lyra as she approached, but she was in no position to do that—her hooves flailed in the air, and the huge erection bobbled madly as a spring-green unicorn zeroed in on her anus like a heat-seeking missile, if missiles had tongues.

“Ahhh!”

Rarity stiffened, as Lyra’s eager tongue stroked her sensitive flesh.

“Did it once,” remarked Trixie conversationally. “Doesn’t really taste of anything. She’s fine. But you are a filthy, filthy girl, Rarity!”

Lyra’s head popped up from Rarity’s crotch—or thereabouts. “Let me fuck her! I want that huge magic dick!”

“Go for it, Heartstrings!” replied Trixie, cuddling Twilight—who was stirring, sweetly groggy, and looking around. “Ride that pony!”

Lyra didn’t hesitate. She leapt upon Rarity’s cowering body, and positioned herself, and pressed back…

Trixie stared. Twilight blinked, sleepily. Lyra’s hips gyrated, like she was chalking the tip of a pool cue.

“Arghh!”

“Problem, Heartstrings?”

“Won’t… go!”

Trixie watched Lyra struggle for a few more seconds, and then she snapped, “Stop. Stop it! You’re too small, Heartstrings!”

“Noooo!” wailed Lyra, ramming herself against the huge magic phallus hysterically.

“Girl! Spit that bit out!”

Rarity obeyed instantly, staring up at the maddened Lyra in quivering terror.

“Heartstrings, take that bit… and fuck my darling Rarity like a wild fucking animal!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. Rarity’s eyes widened, and she gasped.

Lyra obeyed without a moment’s hesitation, without even changing her position. Still straddling Rarity and pinning her down, she leaned over and seized the bit in her teeth, her little saddlebag riding up over her shoulder as she bent her head. She met Rarity’s gaze, and Rarity pressed her head against the sheets, cowering back from those searing golden eyes.

Lyra snorted, feeling her magical stallionhood spring hungrily to life. It seemed even more rampant than ever before, perhaps because not one but two magic bits surrounded her—one in her teeth, the other in the saddlebag, riding snug against her chest. Lyra’s eyes were reddened and a little bit bulging, as if her very soul was turgid and erect and hot to seize a marehood, and Rarity went helplessly limp beneath her new stallion, psychically overwhelmed by the sudden, inexplicable masculinity.

She’d asked to be ravaged in turn, but she hadn’t even imagined this looming presence, full of hunger and maleness and the aura of desecration and degradation, the hint of two mares’ anuses on those snarling, bestial lips.

Rarity lay as if thunderstruck, her mind reeling, completely unable to cope or even to know what she wished would happen. She stammered, “Er… um… con, uh, ap… Ap…” She couldn’t get the safeword out, either of them. She couldn’t work out whether she desperately wanted to say it, or wanted not to say it.

Lyra’s hips swung back, and then swung forward, and Rarity’s body was impaled upon hunching, snorting green stallion.

“Ahhh!”

Twilight blinked, and she stared groggily at the carnal scene next to her, in apparent disbelief. Trixie cuddled her, smugly, as they watched the new pet take Rarity.

“She licked my anus…” said Twilight, painedly.

“Girl’s, too,” said Trixie, with satisfaction. “Girl says she’s puppy-like, or something.”

They watched Lyra’s tail thrash, as her body doubled up again and again, fucking Rarity, ramming that slender green stallionhood to the hilt as Rarity kicked and wailed.

“You think?” said Twilight.

Lyra bared her teeth around the bit. She wasn’t frothing, but from her attitude it seemed she might as well have been. Her eyes weren’t quite focussed, but Rarity’s were locked upon hers in frantic, erotic surrender. Their breasts scrunched together again and again as Lyra’s hips rammed away.

“Sweet Celestia,” said Trixie, in awe. “Maybe I’d like a turn.”

Twilight blinked. “Um. Yeah. Not sure I’m gonna tell the Princess about this one.”

Rarity whimpered, and began to writhe and grit her teeth, shaking her head as Lyra ground away, shoving pony cock to her cervix again and again with ravenous eagerness. Lyra did indeed seem just like a wild fucking animal, nothing less—or a pony maddened by the influence of two magic bits, flinging herself into the experience in a desire to please and impress.

“Wow,” breathed Twilight, eyes wide.

Rarity’s eyes were wide, glistening, desperate. She tried to turn away, her horn glittering. The glittering reflected in Lyra’s hungry eyes. The onlookers gasped as Lyra bent down, doubling up in a fierce final shove of that magic stallionhood deeply into Rarity’s shuddering body…

Lyra kissed Rarity full on the mouth, hard—and began to come inside Rarity, nostrils flaring, body hunching and jerking.

Rarity tried to twist away, but couldn’t. She screamed a scream of utter degradation and horror against that tainted, kissing mouth, her body already shaking in orgasm, and her horn coruscated and spurted a little spurt of magic, something the other two unicorns had never seen from her before—something nopony in Ponyville had ever seen Rarity do.

As she did, Lyra bellowed through clenched teeth, a brutal squall of lust… and unleashed her own climax.

Her spring-green horn flared searingly to life, and a thick jet of magic burst from it. For a moment, it blasted through the air, striking the wall and barely missing Trixie’s head, as Rarity’s eyes widened. Then it seemed to sense Rarity’s smaller, weaker spurting of magic, and inexorably, the arc twisted… and struck.

“AHHHH!”

Rarity screamed like a damned soul, like she was reliving a moment that had cursed her forever.

Lyra’s eyes flared in wild, eager, animalistic lust, and Rarity’s anguished, surrendering gaze didn’t leave them for a moment as Lyra gritted her teeth on the bit—and drove the point of contact down through Rarity’s horn and into the elegant unicorn, flooding her with Lyra’s magic.

Twilight and Trixie were speechless. They clung to each other, awed beyond words, watching Rarity convulse and writhe. Her cries were broken, shattered by wave after wave of heaving orgasm, her body seemed to light up with a green light, and all the while, Lyra snarled and hunched her hips and flooded Rarity with magical release from one end, while her erect stallionhood pumped pony-come up Rarity from the other.

Twilight found her eyes drawn to one of Rarity’s rear hooves, kicking out as if in pleasure-agony, shuddering, stretching, curling, as the magicjism and ponyjism kept flooding and flooding her helpless unicorn body… it went on, and on, and on, impossibly…

The magic arc cut off, abruptly. Lyra’s mouth dropped open. The bit fell, bouncing off Rarity’s face, landing on the bed. The green erection shrank away in an instant. Lyra collapsed over Rarity, weak and stunned.

Rarity stared over at Twilight and Trixie, who stared back. Twilight opened her mouth to congratulate Rarity on the hottest fucking she’d ever seen, when…

“…bwaaaaaaaaaahhh…”

“Girl?” said Trixie, her ears laying back.

“Waaaaaaaaaaaahhh!”

Rarity was wailing with grief, somehow hurt beyond anything either pony had ever seen, tears pouring from her eyes.

“Oh my gosh!” squeaked Twilight.

“Get Heartstrings off her!” ordered Trixie. “Girl? Rarity! What happened? What’s wrong?”

“…mbwaaaaaahhh! ‘m sorry! I’m sorry! Mommy! Waaaaaahhhhh! Mistreeeeessss!”

Trixie gulped. She’d heard many tones of voice over the years, but this was something else. All her warning bells were going off. She jumped to her hooves, standing over the stricken pair, snapping at Twilight, “Get Heartstrings out of here! Not just off her! I’ll handle this, let me see what we’ve got…”

Twilight lost no time. As if she’d been working with Trixie in disaster areas all her life, she reached out with her magic and lifted dazed Lyra to her hooves as well, dragging her off the bed in stumbling haste. “Come on, Lyra, we need to be somewhere else right now…”

Lyra protested feebly. “What? I did what she asked! It wasn’t good?”

“Come on!” ordered Twilight. She added, “I don’t know! I would’ve loved it. Something happened. Come on, come on, downstairs… let’s wash your face and mouth, too, that was just gross…”

Trixie embraced Rarity, on the bed, holding her body tightly until the worst of the shaking was over. It took quite a while. Rarity couldn’t speak—she would just start to bawl again as soon as she tried. Trixie didn’t rush her.

Downstairs, they couldn’t make out Lyra’s or Twilight’s words. The tone of voice said that Twilight was worried. Lyra sounded frightened, offended.

“Rarity?” said Trixie quietly.

“Mmm?”

“Talk to me, baby. When you can.”

Rarity’s eyes were pits of despair. Her lip quivered.

“Seriously,” said Trixie. “Mistress needs you to tell her what happened.”

Rarity sighed miserably, and snuggled into Trixie’s embrace. “Mistress…”

Trixie held her close, nuzzling into her mane, eyes closed. “That’s the way. You just tell Mistress. That’s all you have to do.”

Rarity let out another shuddering sigh, and took in a breath.

“Then,” said Trixie, “Mistress will explain to everypony, and nopony will ever do it to you again…”

Unseen, Rarity’s eyes flew open, pupils contracted to pinpoints in shock, face a rictus of horror.

“Tell Mistress. Come on, girl.”

Rarity stared into infinity, realizing what she’d almost said—what she’d almost told…

“Come on. It’ll be okay. Nopony will judge you.”

…who would be affected.

“Girl?”

Downstairs, Lyra stamped a hoof and wobbled unsteadily. “It’s not fair!”

“Well, I can’t help that,” retorted Twilight. “I already told you—it looked great to me! I don’t know why Rarity freaked out. I do know you’re acting insulted, and it’s beginning to piss me off!”

Lyra backed up a step, raising a forehoof. “All I mean is… look, I really tried! I got into it, so hard—can I get a few points for that, at least?”

“Points? Points? My dear friend, and, I might add, an indispensable wielder of the Elements of Harmony whose efforts literally saved Equestria twice, is lying upstairs reduced to a broken wreck of a pony, and…”

“Feeling much better, thank you, darling,” said Rarity, descending the stairs.

Twilight’s jaw dropped as Rarity walked up and stood, her head held high, looking back and forth between her and Lyra. Her makeup was completely ruined, first wept through and then rubbed off in an attempt to look entirely recovered. Rarity’s face was odd without the makeup: she looked older, sadder, with lines of grief under her eyes that didn’t normally show, but all the same she looked terribly strong.

Her normally white hooves were completely soiled, for she’d rubbed the makeup away using them. She didn’t seem to notice—or refused to notice.

Twilight blinked, and blinked again, trying to process it.

“Even for you, this is a sudden mood flip…” she said.

Trixie was coming down the stairs. She looked angry. “Girl says she’s fine now. She wouldn’t tell Trixie a damn thing. Trixie thought we were supposed to be honest.”

Rarity turned, directing an imploring gaze at her Mistress. “Everything will be okay. I promise, Mistress. I’m fine.”

“But you didn’t tell me anything!”

“What’s to tell, darling?”

Trixie glowered. She spoke to Lyra. “Heartstrings?”

“Yes?”

“Leave our anuses alone. That’s the only element that was never there before in any sense and was there for the first time, this time. Everything else, we already saw in one way or another, and it wasn’t a problem…”

“Yeah,” winced Twilight, “I’ll agree with that. It really freaked me out, Lyra. You can’t do that.”

Lyra sulked. Tears came to her eyes, and she protested, “All of your bodies are beautiful! Every bit of you is wonderful and beautiful…”

She trailed off. Rarity was approaching her.

Slowly and deliberately, Rarity leaned over and kissed her on the lips, with no sign of disgust or contempt—except that her tail flicked spastically, and her legs shook as if she was forcing herself to do something nearly impossible.

“You are beautiful too, darling,” said Rarity, “and you’ve done nothing wrong. Forgive me for a moment’s distress that was not your fault.”

“Distress?” cried Twilight and Trixie, in appalled unison. It had looked like the end of the world.

“A moment’s distress,” repeated Rarity, “that was not her fault! Promise me you won’t hold it against her.”

Trixie stared at Rarity, and then glanced at Lyra, who fought off an urge to flee. Lyra knew there were times when her nerves got hyped up until every little experience seemed to shriek with foreboding. This was one of those times. Just as she’d been struck by one glance from Princess Luna among a whole Nightmare Night crowd, now she cringed at a simple look from Trixie, the pony who’d seemed to be her big supporter, who’d called her Heartstrings, who now gave an appraising look that suggested she was a lot more disposable than she thought. For that matter, Rarity was worse—Lyra felt herself surrounded by hostility and terrifying masks that concealed awful intentions.

“I guess,” said Trixie.

“Now, shall we all go out and have a nice dinner?” said Rarity. “My treat. I insist! Not every scene is a triumph, darlings, but we press on…”

Twilight looked at Trixie. Trixie returned the look.

“Yeah, all right,” said Twilight. “You might want to go and wash your hooves first, Rarity. No offense, but they’re kind of filthy.”

Rarity’s eye twitched.

“Thank you for that, Twilight,” she said—and then whinnied in alarm, shying away from Lyra, who’d trotted up from the other side hoping to thank her for the offer of dinner.

“Girl,” demanded Trixie, “what is the matter with you?”

“Sorry! Ahahaha! I, I think I will take you up on the suggestion, Twilight. I’ll be just a moment! Is your bathroom soundproofed, by any chance?”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “I sure doubt it. Why in the world would you want to know that?”

“Oh! Ahh… because of quiet, quiet… quiet grooming. Must have quiet for grooming, you know!”

Not trusting herself with further explanations, Rarity rushed off to the bathroom, and they heard the door latch.

“Well!” said Twilight. “We broke Rarity. Yay us!”

“Do not scream, don’t you scream,” muttered Rarity, feverishly washing her hooves.

Silly Twilight hadn’t any proper makeup, certainly not the pale powder that concealed those dreadful grooves of woe that lurked under her eyes, but Rarity knew she’d secreted a spare eyeliner pencil in one of the drawers for just such an occasion… ah! There.

She gritted her teeth, the discipline helping to steady her. Shaky eyeliner was worse than nothing. It had to be perfect, flawless, beyond question.

So did her lies.

The eyeliner was perfect—just like always. She addressed herself in the mirror.

“The inner sanctum, at home, is soundproofed. You may scream yourself hoarse once you are there—and alone, you wretch—and not a moment before.”

She glowered at her reflection.

“Now, get out there, and pretend to be a decent girl… one more time.”

Rarity lifted her chin. She flicked her tail, and the elegantly coiffed tresses flew like a battle flag. The door opened before her, and closed briskly as she rejoined her companions.

“Darlings!”

Dissonant

Twilight Sparkle beamed in great, horribly feigned delight.

“It’s so nice to see you, Princess! So… unexpectedly!”

From behind her, a squeal rang through the library. “Princess Luna?” cried a curiously sweet voice, and hooves clattered.

Into Celestia’s view rushed a spring-green unicorn, who screeched to a halt and stared in seeming astonishment.

Twilight turned her head. “No! It’s Princess Celestia, and I guess she’s come to share breakfast with us?”

Celestia bowed her head, but there was a twinkle in her eye. “Do you remember Mrs. Ditch, our cook? Who married the gardener, remember, when you were very small.. and who eventually retired?”

“Yeeeeesss?” said Twilight, warily.

“Well,” said Princess Celestia, “do you remember that special recipe of hers? I know I’ve never had a chef quite match it, which is of course only natural—I fear they just never had the knack. You remember! You would wrinkle your nose, Twilight, and without being too unkind about it, you’d say, ‘they’re just not like Mrs. Ditch’s sugared hay pops’! Isn’t that so?”

Twilight’s eyes widened. She bit her lip, laying her ears back.

“Guess what I have?” purred Princess Celestia, affectionately.

“Princess Celestia brings you snacks?” squeaked Lyra. Behind her, Trixie trotted into view, blanched, and promptly ran up to stand beside Twilight, slightly behind her, covering her right flank.

“I’m… not sure this is the time…” stammered Twilight.

The Princess’s face fell. “Really? I mean… really, Twilight? I am so sorry. I… may I leave this with you, then, dear Twilight? I shan’t be mysterious—yes, Mrs. Ditch has cooked you some sugared hay pops. I flew here as fast as I could. You know once they’ve cooled, you can’t ever re-heat them without losing some of that wonderful texture we so adore…”

Twilight gulped. “Uhhh… Please come in! Thank you so much! We’re just a little confused this morning, it’s perfectly all right, perfectly!” She shot a frantic glance at Trixie, who returned it in no more than an eyeblink—and the two unicorns moved together, backing into the room and allowing Princess Celestia entrance.

She came in, her magic bringing along a picnic basket behind her, and she looked quizzically at Twilight. “Is something the matter? I’m quite serious—I am aware I did not ask ahead of time, but I’d been visiting Mrs. Ditch, and she was making a batch when I visited. It was no trouble for her to make a second batch, and she was so happy to do so, she remembers you so well. I would have sent a scroll along, except that I thought it would be such a nice surprise…”

“It is, it is!” protested Twilight. “Oh my gosh, they smell so good!” She backed up a little more, hopping on one hind leg, Trixie staying close by her side as Lyra wandered forward, fascinated.

“Have you twisted your hoof, Twilight?” asked Celestia.

“Yes! I just stepped on it wrong, you know how it is. It’ll be fine!”

“May I see?” inquired Celestia.

“Oh, but I don’t want to wait any longer to have sugared hay pops again! Let’s not let them cool off one more moment. Can Trixie and Lyra have some?”

“Of course!” laughed Princess Celestia. The picnic basket opened, and little fluffy straw confections began to emerge, floating in front of the unicorns’ noses, only to disappear in quick, delighted bites.

“Ooooh!” crooned Trixie. “Those are good!”

“Told you,” said Twilight, smugly. “Lyra, what do you think? Good, huh?”

Lyra’s eyes were wide, but it wasn’t entirely from appreciation of sugared hay pops. She couldn’t take her eyes off Princess Celestia’s horn, and licked her lips, panting slightly. Trixie shot her a warning glance, whiffing a bit of her mood.

“Would you like another, Miss Lyra?” inquired Celestia, smiling fondly.

At this, Lyra reared up, holding her forehooves in a cute begging posture, and opened her mouth. Princess Celestia giggled, and tossed a sugared hay pop in a little arc, and Lyra snapped it out of the air, returning to all fours with a perky bounce. Not satisfied with this bounce, she squeaked and capered, bumping into Twilight’s left flank.

The bump knocked Twilight to the side a little, and she bounced gently off Trixie, her right flank bumping Trixie’s side… and Twilight’s eyes bugged out for just a moment, as she emitted the faintest hint of an agonized squeal.

Princess Celestia froze.

“Twilight, dear, are you well? Is something wrong?”

“Nothing!” squeaked Twilight, too strainedly, as Trixie glared, fear in her eyes.

Princess Celestia said nothing for a moment. She just gulped, her eyes not leaving Twilight’s. She said, “Perhaps… this is, indeed, not the time…”

Twilight began to hop backwards, Trixie sticking close beside her as she awkwardly retreated. “It’s fine! You’re always welcome here, Princess, it’s not your fault if I fell on my hoof or something, and thank you for the nice…”

Celestia’s eyes widened in alarm. She’d spotted the stray scroll that had been left on the floor.

Twilight hadn’t, and her one ‘good’ hind hoof landed squarely on it.

Her other hoof slammed down with perfect health and solidity, but had the bad fortune to also land on the scroll, and both rear hooves shot out to the side as Twilight’s body twisted and fell heavily upon her right flank.

Celestia visibly shuddered, her wings flaring out in sudden alarm, at the shriek of pain Twilight made.

“Twilight Sparkle! Let me help you! What is… is…”

Celestia trailed off. Trixie was staring truculently at her. Lyra seemed terrified, and Twilight’s lip was quivering as she awkwardly, wincingly got up.

With Trixie standing aside, it wasn’t that hard to see the shocking, savage welts on Twilight’s ass. She stood, trembling, wordless, gazing imploringly at Celestia, her ears back as if expecting a ferocious scolding.

Instead, it was worse. The Princess’s lip was quivering. She made a weak croaking sound, and then managed to speak, but it wasn’t to anypony present. She spoke as if in a dream—or as if to a memory—and her voice quavered.

“It will be all right, I promise you…”

“Princess?” said Twilight, in a tiny little voice.

“I’ll take care of her as if she were my own,” continued Celestia unsteadily. “I understand she is quite small, but I assure you, it is warranted with a child of this much promise and talent…”

“P… Princess…”

“And I understand your concern,” said Princess Celestia slowly, echoing things she had clearly said and meant, long ago. “But I… swear to you that while there is… breath in my body and sun on my wings, your… child shall come t… to… no harm…”

Twilight couldn’t even speak. She could only watch the tear growing in Princess Celestia’s eye.

Then, she couldn’t see Celestia’s face at all. Lyra squealed and scrambled away, for the Princess was huge, massive, and it was frightening to be next to her as she whirled and bolted for the door. There was something dreadful about her loss of composure, the panicking of a creature large and powerful enough to flatten all three unicorn ponies with her flying hooves.

Instead, they saw her fleeing rump—and heard the frantic flapping of huge wings, unfurling just outside Twilight’s door, clawing for the sky and the comfort of high Canterlot.

Twilight ran forward, the pain in her butt ignored. “Princess!” Out the door, into the street…

“PRINCESS!”

Trixie and Lyra ran up, to stand either side of Twilight—who stood, tears streaming down her face, gritting her teeth in rage and chagrin.

“GRRRRHH!”

“Mistress…” said Trixie hesitantly.

“Shut up!”

“Is there anything I can…” began Lyra, trembling.

“You shut up as well!”

They did. They stood, faces twisted in woe, and watched as Twilight Sparkle steadily got control of herself again—heaving harsh breaths through those gritted teeth, glaring at nothing as she thought and thought and thought.

“Girls?” she said, at last.

They didn’t dare speak for a moment, then Trixie said, “Mistress?”

“We’re gonna get through this,” said Twilight. “I promise. We’re gonna be even more responsible…”

A whirring noise was heard in the distance.

“And we’re gonna control ourselves and not do anything embarrassing for a while…”

The whirring noise grew louder, fast.

“And if anypony, ANY pony in this whole fucking town thinks they’re gonna keep on being perverted and crazy right now…”

A cloud of dust burst into view around a neighboring house, and roared up to the three unicorns, and blew away, revealing a rakish figure on a scooter.

“Hi, Twilight!” said Scootaloo.

“Oh, hi, Scootaloo,” said Twilight. “This isn’t a good time, okay?”

“All right, then I’ll be quick,” said Scootaloo. “I emptied my piggy bank and here’s all the bits I have. Rainbow Dash said I could get a magic penis thing from you. Special order!”

Three unicorn jaws dropped in astonishment.

Scootaloo grinned up at them, her wings perked at a jaunty angle.

“It’s okay,” she said confidently. “It’s for a friend!”

“Breathe, sister!” demanded Luna, her imperious voice given the lie by the tenderness of her embrace.

Celestia snuffled, her wings flapping vaguely in dismay.

“No, you see, that’s sniffling, dear sister. You know the difference. Breathe! Give me a nice deep breath. Please?” coaxed Luna.

Obediently, Celestia heaved in a deep breath, and let it out, her body shaking.

“Again! And then, if thou canst, speak! What brings thy travail and distress?”

Celestia took another deep breath, and opened her mouth to speak, her lip quivering piteously. Then, she shut it, and drew another deep breath through her flared nostrils, letting it out slowly. She looked sidelong at Luna through tear-streaked eyes.

Luna nodded solemnly. “Good. Speak!”

Celestia began, “I…” and choked up. Then, as Luna watched, she gushed in a sobbing burst of bitter words, “I should have let you do what you were wont to do!”

Luna paled. “Oh, no…”

“But, yes!”

“But NO!” cried Luna, appalled. “What is this? What manner of despair is this, dear sister? How can you say that?”

“She has beaten Twilight bloody, until she cannot walk…”

Luna grimaced, her eyes squeezed shut, teeth bared in emotional pain. “But…”

“I saw it!” neighed Celestia.

“Cease!” barked Princess Luna, imperiously. “Did you mean to grant them freedom or not?”

This silenced Princess Celestia. She stammered for a moment, her eyes huge and vulnerable—and then she’d buried her face against Luna’s neck again, and her tears flowed freely.

“I did! I did… oh, I did…”

“Oh, sister,” breathed Luna, holding the larger alicorn close. “To think that I will have to explain after all. I had hoped this day would not arrive.”

Celestia twisted, delivering an accusing glance. “Some things don’t bear examination! You make excuses for your confounded Lulamoon, and she has hurt Twilight dreadfully!”

Luna did not flinch. “And yet you claim, now, you would fain deliver Trixie Lulamoon to me—knowing the special relationship I have had with her kin?”

Celestia was silenced.

Luna sighed. “Would that you had sent me to the moon again! I fear my influence draws upon them, calls them like they were little pony tides to be dragged in my wake. They should thrive with only you to guide them. I shall not appear next Nightmare Night. I’ll hope they forget me…”

Princess Celestia’s eyes were moist, but she slowly shook her head. “Nay… I cannot believe you truly mean them ill, sister. It cannot be right that you should exile yourself still further. There must be healing, somehow. I…” Celestia gulped. “I just don’t see the healing, in all this.”

“We do not seek healing, sister!” declaimed Luna, and then corrected herself, “Or, rather—I do not seek healing. We must help the ponies become more like you, as they once were. Your Twilight Sparkle… it seems she too must bear Lulamoon descent, the sheer power of her would seem to demand it, but at the same time she is so like you… so studious, so gentle, seeking balance and knowledge rather than the thrills of experience…”

Celestia narrowed her eyes. “I’ve experience, too, sister.”

Luna’s lip curled in a wry smile. “Not, I think, like I have.”

Celestia’s gaze dropped. “Perhaps not. Oh, Luna! Must I turn Twilight over to such cruel experience? What good could possibly come of it? It is all I can do not to hate Trixie Lulamoon over these things…”

Luna winced, and Celestia gulped. “I’m sorry. I’m trying. They are spending time with Rarity, the dressmaker—perhaps she will prove a moderating influence?”

Luna lifted a skeptical eyebrow. “Do you believe her white coat a symbol of purity, sister? I have seen ponies like her before.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“Nothing! I know nothing… only cautioning you not to place over-much trust in surface appearances… and this holds for your favorite, Twilight, as well. As much as you think you know her, you did not fight her, sister. It is easy to still see the innocent filly to protect, when you are not staring her down in battle. I fought her twice—once while possessed by Nightmare Moon, and once as myself. Sister, no-one beats that unicorn girl bloody unless she consents.”

Celestia frowned unhappily. “There was another—I believe her name was Lyra, if I remember correctly. She bounced like a puppy, giddy for sugared hay pops. I do not remember if she bore the signs of beatings, and now I am afraid to look.”

Luna blinked. “Bounced, you say? Named Lyra?”

“Oh, she’s done that before.” Celestia smiled in spite of herself. “Pops up at the rear of crowds, leaps into the air to see. Luminous green unicorn, with a harp on her flank. Seems cheerful. You’ve seen her?”

Luna’s eyes widened, as she remembered a frozen moment, sinking into wild golden eyes, eyes that seemed to shimmer with energy even as she stared, fixated…

Luna frowned.

“You should have sent me to the moon, sister,” she said. “Even my presence causes trouble. Can you find the gardener, Crystal Gaze?”

Celestia blinked. “I should think so. You wish to study meditation again? Or do you wish gardens planted in your room? If it is the latter, I approve, but you will have to draw the curtains and let light in. I remind you, sulking in the dark was never a condition of your punishment…”

Luna sighed. “It is the former. Mayhap she can teach me to meditate myself into such a peaceful state that I cease to stir up such passions in pony hearts. As for the latter—I do not wish light, or comfort. Must you demand it of me?”

Celestia gazed upon her younger sister with eyes still streaked from her tears. “Luna, there are things you demand of me in turn. If I must grow to accept such harsh actions from my little ponies, can you not also grow to accept a little mercy?”

Luna gave her a sulky look, which was met with an imploring one.

“Please, Luna. Please let me know there are some places where comfort persists.”

“One plant!” replied Luna. “I’ll accept one plant, and the light to care for it. I shall meditate upon it, and attend to its needs personally. Tell Crystal Gaze of that, as well.”

“I shall!” said Celestia, cheered.

“And yes, sister, I do demand things of you! Do not lose faith in your pony subjects, I beseech you! Though they are tainted by the darkness of my energies, though they act out on these dark passions, I beg of you to understand two things—one, that these things have always been part of the pony nature, and two, that things can grow from darkness toward light! It is love that drives them, even when the expressions of it are passing strange.”

Celestia bowed her head. “I will try to understand, sister. Shall I send Crystal Gaze up, now, with the plant for your room?”

At this, Luna looked stricken. Her eyes dropped, and she muttered, “One more night…”

“I beg pardon?”

Luna looked up. Her eyes glistened. “One more night of my darkness, sister! Please! Just one more! Leave me for now. Tomorrow I will comply with your wishes. Please allow me one more night to mourn…”

Celestia bowed her head, and departed without another word.

Twilight stared at Scootaloo in horror. “She said WHAT?”

“Special order, she said! Is that enough money? Didja charge Rainbow Dash that much?”

“I didn’t charge her anything!” exclaimed Twilight. “Now listen…”

“Yay!” said Scootaloo. She then did a doubletake and informed Twilight, “Hey! You owe me a new piggy bank!”

“Never mind that!” demanded Twilight Sparkle. “Are you out of your tiny mind, Scootaloo? What’s got into you?”

Lyra blinked. “I think she’s just told you, Twilight.” She sniffed the air, curiously.

“Nah!” said Scootaloo. “Not into me, no way! It’s to use on… on a friend! What’s the big problem?”

“I’ll tell you what the problem is,” said Twilight, “you’re foals, and if you’re not out of here in about five seconds…”

Lyra chuckled, unexpectedly. “Nope.”

Twilight whirled to face Lyra, and Scootaloo’s eyes bugged out as she took in Twilight’s butt. “Whoa! What happened to you, Twilight?”

Twilight ignored the comment. “What do you mean, ‘nope’?”

“That’s not a foal,” said Lyra simply.

“That’s Scootaloo! Like Applejack’s sister Apple Bloom and Rarity’s sister Sweetie Belle, she is a foal, a school-kid…”

Lyra sniffed the air again. “Maybe a school kid, but not a foal. Use your nose!”

“It’s not as simple as that! Do you see a cutie mark? Do you?” demanded Twilight.

Scootaloo broke in. “That’s not fair! When did you get so mean? First you won’t sell me a magic bit special order, and now you’re making fun of me! Are you telling me a cutie mark is some kinda penis license? You’re gonna check my flank first?”

Twilight turned again. “I’ll do more than that. I need to have a word with Rainbow Dash, because I don’t know what she’s been telling you, but it stops right here! No, you do not get a bit. You shouldn’t even know what they are!”

Scootaloo had begun to glare the instant she worked out Rainbow Dash was in trouble, and her wings stood up in outrage—she looked quite fierce. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” said Twilight.

“Fine!” said Scootaloo. She turned up her nose—and she turned to face Lyra. “Twilight Sparkle is being totally unfair. How much to buy yours? Uhhh… or how about I rent it? You can have it back afterwards.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped. “How do you know that Lyra has a…”

“She showed me!” replied Scootaloo.

Twilight and Trixie gasped, and Lyra backed up a pace, glancing nervously between them, saying “I can explain…”

“Did you decide on a safeword?” snapped Trixie.

“Why?”

“You’re gonna need one…”

Lyra squealed, and made a break for it, galloping off in the direction of the Carousel Boutique.

Scootaloo took one look, and kicked up a cloud of dust that was transfixed by a ray of purple unicorn magic. Out of the cloud of dust rolled a scooter, following Lyra’s flight and coasting to a stop. The cloud of dust dissipated slowly, to reveal a little pegasus filly, dangling by the tail from a magical grip, thrashing and punching the air and flapping her little wings frantically.

Twilight took a deep breath. “Stop it!”

Scootaloo dangled upside down. She crossed her forehooves across her chest, and glared.

“You can’t have a bit,” said Twilight. “Don’t ask me, don’t ask Rainbow Dash, don’t ask Lyra. Got it? Especially Lyra. You’re not to talk to Lyra about this. We’ll have a word with her.”

“If you can catch her,” sneered Scootaloo.

“I caught you!”

Scootaloo pouted. “Stupid magic.”

“Promise! Promise you’ll do what I said! Or, er, not do. You know what I mean!”

“Or what? You’ll hang me upside down for the rest of my life? I got school tomorrow!”

“I’ll…” Twilight thought. “I’ll bring you to Carousel Boutique.”

“I was just going that direction!” said Scootaloo.

“No, I mean, I’ll bring you to Carousel Boutique… and let Rarity dress you up. And do your mane. And tail.”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened with each word. “You wouldn’t dare! My mom will kick your ass! And it would hurt real bad because somepony already did that to you, it looks like!”

“And it didn’t stop me!” said Twilight Sparkle. “I’m warning you, Scootaloo!”

Scootaloo gulped, and glanced at Twilight’s abused rump, and her wicked grin.

“My mane… and tail? And, like, dresses and stuff?”

Twilight grinned with still more evilness. “And… your scooter!”

Scootaloo thrashed, letting out a squeak. “FINE! I promise, okay? I’ll do what you said. Lemme go! I’ll be good!”

Twilight glanced at Trixie. “Do you think it’s legit?”

“She nearly wet herself when you brought in that scooter…” said Trixie, speculatively.

“DID NOT!” wailed Scootaloo.

“Trixie thinks it’s legit,” said Trixie.

Twilight lowered Scootaloo slowly, and the hapless filly scrabbled at the ground and flipped over, jumping to her hooves with a betrayed, appalled expression. She wiped her eyes with a tiny hoof, and glared, beside herself with rage.

“You go home,” said Twilight, firmly.

“FINE!” yelled Scootaloo. She ran over, grabbed her scooter, and kicked up a huge cloud of dust again, but this time it wasn’t towards the Carousel Boutique—it was towards Sweet Apple Acres.

“Do you think Rainbow Dash really told her to go buy a bit from me, Trixie?”

Trixie shook her head. “Trixie thinks there is more to that story than meets the eye. Unfortunately, there may be more to the Lyra story than meets the eye, too…”

‘They don’t want me! They don’t!” sobbed Lyra.

Rarity hugged the hysterical mare, her eyes troubled. “Now, why ever do you say that, Lyra?”

“I can just tell! And, and, do you know the worst part?”

“No—can you tell me?”

Lyra’s face twisted in grief. “She… used to call me ‘Heartstrings’…”

Rarity considered this. “But darling! You told her to call you that. Remember?”

This, while true, didn’t soothe Lyra one bit. She sobbed harder, while Rarity tried to work out what had happened. “Can you tell me what gave you this idea, Lyra? I’ve known Trixie and Twilight for… well, actually I suppose I haven’t known them for that long, have I? Not nearly as long as I have known you, and Fluttershy, and the other ponies native to Ponyville. But I have scened with them, and I feel certain they would not repudiate you for no reason!”

Rarity gulped. “Moreover, if they would, I should like to know about it, for I could be next. So, what transpired, darling?”

Lyra sniffled. “Twilight got so angry with me…”

“Yes, yes, but why?”

“It was over that kid,” said Lyra, “the one with the scooter. He—no, wait, she—came and wanted to buy a magic bit from Twilight. Of course it’s a she, if it was a colt what would he want with one?”

Rarity boggled. “Scootaloo? Scootaloo wishes a penis? That is more than a little disturbing—though with her adoration of Rainbow Dash, I daresay I should have seen that coming. She is still a foal, though!”

Lyra shook her head. “Not really… well, sort of not really. That’s the trouble. I said, that’s not a foal, and then Twilight and Trixie were so angry. Twilight said there was no cutie mark, but I could smell her! That scooter girl is coming into season. Probably wanted to be rutted—is that so wrong?”

Rarity’s ears were quirked to the sides. “I am not sure ‘wrong’ is the correct word to use. Unsuitable? Appalling?”

Lyra pulled back and stared at Rarity in horror. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re going to back them up about the cutie mark! I remember when I was small—I came into season and didn’t know what to do, even after I got my cutie mark. I know a pony can want sex even as a blank flank!”

“That’s as may be,” said Rarity. “I developed a very clear idea of what I should do, particularly after I got my cutie mark. I was… mistaken, let’s just say. Even the cutie mark rite of passage should not be considered a passport to sexual congress! Not alone, at any rate!”

Lyra’s face fell. “…does that mean you’re angry with me, too?”

“Of course not. Darling! Darlingy-est darling of all possible darlings, why would I be angry with you?”

This time, it was Lyra’s ears that quirked. Something hinted to her that the exquisite white unicorn was trying too hard, though she couldn’t put a hoof on exactly what it was.

“Darling?” inquired Rarity.

It would probably come to her eventually… “So you’re not angry?” asked Lyra.

“Of course not! D… Lyra, there is much truth in what you’ve said. Scootaloo wanting to be,” and Rarity gulped, “rutted, is not ‘so wrong’. Or even wanting a penis… I simply wonder if you’ve been paying attention. If you know that child, I warrant you’ll spot the problem. I would fear for, not just the other little fillies, but also the livestock and possibly the rocks and trees!”

Lyra snickered, imagining it. “And is that so wrong?”

“The rocks and trees would be terribly shocked!” replied Rarity, with mock seriousness. “But I should not make light of it. You mustn’t encourage her, she hasn’t got the context to understand such things, even if she thinks the only context she needs is a fizzing, agitated love-hole. I know all about such feelings, believe me.”

“Oh!” squeaked Lyra. “You do? I can help with that, let me take care of it for you.” Her horn glowed, and her saddlebag began to open.

“I didn’t mean right now!” said Rarity. “I was talking about Scootaloo! Rather crassly, I fear. Hmph, it is so difficult to avoid merging the private and the public life any more. I must, must, MUST remember my decorum. There are so many things to attend to…”

She shook her head, dismayed, and Lyra nuzzled her alabaster cheek.

“Is there anything I can do to help, Rarity?”

Brilliant sapphire eyes blinked, took her in.

“Oh, Lyra! Your simple desire to do so means the world to me. I am so glad you’ll listen to my laments… Heartstrings.”

Luminous golden eyes caught the sapphire ones, sharing their look of fretful gratitude, offering comfort… and deep within those golden eyes, a spark flared, hint of a building stallionish hunger that offered—and demanded—more.

Rarity gulped again, but she couldn’t look away.

“They’re gonna bust us all!” cried Scootaloo, galloping into the clubhouse.

Apple Bloom stared. “Beg yer pardon, but what’re ya talkin’ about, Scootaloo?”

“Twilight Sparkle is being a big jerk! That’s what!”

“Did you spill juice on one of her books again? I tole ya, best to run for th’ hills when that happens…”

“No! It’s… well… it’s the secret project.”

Apple Bloom’s expression darkened. She glared at Scootaloo, and then she glared at Sweetie Belle, who sat on a napkin attempting to draw a still life, as part of the Cutie Mark Crusaders Artists Yay program that Apple Bloom was championing.

The bowl contained nothing but apples, yet Sweetie’s artistic interpretation stubbornly kept transforming them into bananas—with medial rings. And drips. Sweetie Belle sweated as she struggled to stay focussed.

“There ain’t no secret project, so you hush, Scootaloo,” said Apple Bloom. “We agreed to wait it out—and you PROMISED you weren’t gonna steal nothin’ from my sister. You promised!”

“Yeah, but… well, look at her!” demanded Scootaloo. “We’re gonna be down a Crusader if this gets any worse! I have to figure out something, some loophole!”

“Applejack says ta be patient.”

“Rainbow Dash says to be awesome!” retorted Scootaloo.

“Rainbow Dash ain’t here! And she’s fit to pop any day now, she got enough to think about!” said Apple Bloom. “Aw, for… Sweetie Belle! Apples do not squirt! I think we best take a break from things. Y’all wanna swing by Sugarcube Corner?”

Scootaloo blinked. “Free candy?”

“I reckon!”

“Maybe not,” objected Scootaloo. “I saw Pinkie Pie leaving there, going to Fluttershy’s house. You know Mrs. Cake almost never gives us free candy—it’s Pinkie Pie all the way.”

“Well then,” said Apple Bloom, “Fluttershy’s it is—we’ll pick up Pinkie Pie, and all go back to Sugarcube Corner together. We’ll all bust in and yell surprise. When has that ever failed ta work?”

Scootaloo nodded. “That always works! Come on, Sweetie Belle. Sweetie Belle!”

Sweetie shook herself and whimpered. Her eyes wouldn’t quite focus.

“Come on, we’ll get you some candy, that’ll take your mind off of things!”

Fluttershy’s house was dustier than usual, but all the same it glowed with light: both the light of the afternoon sun basking on dusty windowsills, and the light of Pinkie Pie’s adoration, as she fussed over her vastly pregnant mate.

“Wow, Fluttershy, you’re super fat!” cried Scootaloo, trotting in.

“Scootaloo! It ain’t fat, it’s with foal!” retorted Apple Bloom, following.

Fluttershy reclined on a creaking couch, centered in the living room. Pillows and blankets were arrayed around her, hinting at a truth that was only reinforced by dust on the stairs. The gentle pegasus barely got up anymore, and wouldn’t climb the stairs even to go to bed.

Sweetie Belle’s dazed eyes—which had developed an alarming twitch—focussed on a couch-side table, and widened. They wouldn’t have to go to Sugarcube Corner for candy. Pinkie Pie had brought Sugarcube Corner to Fluttershy’s house, and Fluttershy plainly was not just immobile from pregnancy.

“Oooh, is that fudge?” squeaked Apple Bloom. Scootaloo drooled enthusiastically, wings springing to attention. Sweetie made her way over to where her companions beamed huge smiles at their host.

“Please help yourselves!” said Fluttershy. “It would be doing me a kindness. Pinkie, why must you do that? You know I can’t resist that darn mint fudge, or the sugared salted oat cakes. Why do you continually insist on bringing me more?”

Pinkie blinked, puzzled. “Because you asked!”

Fluttershy pouted. “That is no excuse. You should know to refuse some of my demands. I am only taking advantage and deserve a spanking at such times.”

The Crusaders blinked at this, and their heads swung over to take in Pinkie’s response.

“I do that too, silly, and do you remember how long it takes for you to start wheedling me for sweets again? Remember, Flutterbutter?”

Fluttershy frowned, pretending to think. “Endless minutes of fudgeless purgatory. Is that right?”

“Three,” said Pinkie. “Three minutes. But that isn’t my excuse, that’s yours. You ought to know my excuse by now, nuttywuttyhobblewobblesons. Do you remember?”

Fluttershy blushed. “Maybe not in this company…”

“I like you SOFT,” crooned Pinkie Pie, in Fluttershy’s ear—heedless of witnesses.

“Oh, my!” squeaked Fluttershy, and her wings fluttered against her sides hectically, fluffing out as she blushed bright red.

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped. “Wull… all righty then!”

Beside her, Scootaloo stared, biting her lip. Something about the way Fluttershy’s wings had moved hit her in the gut and made her own wings try to stand up higher, and she recognized it as more of that mysterious, unexplained stuff like when Applejack had bit down on Rainbow’s wing shank.

“Behave, Pinkie,” ordered Fluttershy, “we have company. Won’t you have some fudge? I apologize for my marefriend, she is incorrigible.”

“I think you mean in-de-ta-fudgeable!” corrected Pinkie.

Fluttershy waved this comment away with an impatient hoof. “Never mind. How are you children today? Is your world a happy, precious place? Please say it is!”

“Sure!” said Apple Bloom, while Scootaloo sulked and Sweetie trembled.

Fluttershy blinked. “Scootaloo? Sweetie? Whatever is the matter?”

At this, Pinkie suddenly laughed. Suddenly the focus of four shocked gazes, she didn’t lower her eyes or act the slightest bit embarrassed. She grinned, gave Scootaloo and Sweetie a saucy wink, and said, “Nothing you or I can help them with, lovey!”

“Oh,” said Fluttershy. “Should you be mentioning that? I thought we’d better ignore it.”

“You could bring a skunk in here and have him spray them!” suggested Pinkie. “Then we’d be able to ignore it, but I bet you they’d still be stuck with the itchy trots!”

Fluttershy gasped. “Pinkie!”

“Well, they ARE,” said Pinkie. She gave the three shocked fillies a sympathetic look. “How many of you is it? Pinkie’s personal guidance tracking systems indicate probably more than one non-neuter cooter, but I’m not sure it’s three, either…”

“Pinkie Pie, you can’t say things like that! These are little foals!” protested Fluttershy.

“Take it easy, flappyhappylappy! Your trouble is you’re too shy about things. It’s not going to do them or us a bit of good to sit around pretending they aren’t cross-eyed with poon doom, and I hope you don’t consider them unwelcome guests just because of that!”

“Well, but, I, you…”

Pinkie sighed. “Neither am I going to provide any sort of assistance with that, before you insult me by fretting over it. Except perhaps in lecture form. Hey, kids! Which of you is it, and have you had the talk yet? ‘Cos you have to have had The Talk. That’s the rule!”

Scootaloo stammered, and said, “It’s Sweetie. Okay? And maybe me, ‘cos sometimes I feel really weird about things now. We’ve had lots of talks, especially Sweetie.”

“Oh, good!” said Pinkie. “Then have some fudge. You’re always welcome here, just don’t do anything that would shock Fluttershy, okay? We have to be very gentle with her and get ready for the new arrival!”

“She’s so big!” exclaimed Apple Bloom—but then she glanced suspiciously to her side, for Scootaloo had raised a hoof. “Yes, Scootaloo? You best be askin’ somethin’ nice.”

Scootaloo gulped. “How much more of The Talk could we have if we needed more of it?”

Fluttershy blushed, but Pinkie’s ears perked up. “More? Do you mean you haven’t been told everything you want to know?”

“Exactly!” said Scootaloo. “Please can we have more of The Talk? There’s important stuff we still don’t understand!”

Pinkie sat bolt upright, her eyes going wide. “What? Well then!” She set her jaw, a grim and heroic look upon her face. “Ask away! Everything will be explained, plus also there’s fudge.”

“You mustn’t show us anything,” said Sweetie, “just only tell, okay? You’re a grown-up.”

“There isn’t nearly enough pudding here to show you anything useful,” said Pinkie dismissively. “Tell, it is! That’s all I was going to do anyway, before silly Fluttershy says anything. What’s on your mind?”

“Okay, so… I’m guessing that you made Fluttershy pregnant and that is your foal in there, right?” said Scootaloo.

Fluttershy blushed, but Pinkie looked right back at the pegasus filly unflinchingly. “Yep!”

“Well then… How did you work the magic penis?” said Scootaloo.

Pinkie just stared for a moment, then guffawed.

“HA! I didn’t need one, you silly filly!”

“You didn’t?” squeaked Scootaloo, astonished.

“Nope! I left it on the shelf! Dumb thing! Why do mares keep on demanding penis? I ask you!”

“Well, I don’t know!” said Scootaloo angrily. “That’s why I was asking you about it!”

“Sorry. That was a hypothetical I-ask-you,” said Pinkie. “You wouldn’t know. Or maybe you would—are you kids demanding penis? You’re not going to find any here. We don’t need ‘em!”

“You don’t have magical penises? We’ve seen them. AND we’ve seen what the bit thing looks like,” challenged Scootaloo, “so don’t try to fool us!”

“Oh, that,” said Fluttershy, and winced.

“Aha! You do have one! Just like Lyra and Applejack and Twilight Sparkle!”

“Scootaloo, you stop yellin’ at grown-ups right now!” demanded Apple Bloom. “What is wrong with you?”

“We should go,” whimpered Sweetie Belle. “We’re sorry…”

Pinkie waved a hoof. “Settle down! If that’s the question, then it deserves an answer! I did say I would answer her question, so pipe down, all of you! The answer is just what I said, Scootaloo. We don’t need it. I’m not sure, but I think Fluttershy might be mad at me if I explain exactly why we don’t need it…”

“Uh-huh,” muttered Fluttershy, darkly.

“But you should take my word for it. I don’t want or need any such magical thing. I’m my own magical thing. And Fluttershy doesn’t want it either, and that is still my foal in her because of a little pegasus magic of another kind—and,” said Pinkie with a wink at Apple Bloom, “a little earth pony magic to round it out.”

Apple Bloom blinked uncomprehendingly.

“So you can’t tell us how to work the magic penis to make a foal,” said Scootaloo.

“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to be telling you things like that!” said Fluttershy. She had that sulky, determined look on, the one that made the fillies shrink back, expecting The Stare. She continued, “Before I tell you anything of the sort, I want a note from Rarity and Applejack and—and whoever Scootaloo’s mom is, saying it is okay to tell you girls such things.”

“A note?” said Scootaloo.

“And not in crayon!” added Fluttershy, narrowing her eyes.

Scootaloo’s wings drooped, and she pouted.

“We should go,” repeated Sweetie.

“Can you at least tell us which of you acts like the stallion?” begged Scootaloo.

Fluttershy heaved herself up into a sitting position, the better to stare formidably down on the fillies. “We are both mares, Scootaloo, and we will not be answering more questions without a suitable note!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” insisted Fluttershy. “We don’t know anything about magic penises and stallions and we don’t want to know! So there!”

Scootaloo bridled, comparing that attitude to the fascinating horrors of Applejack and Rainbow Dash, and snapped, “You probably can’t even make a stiff one anyway, so there!”

Fluttershy gasped, and gasped again when Pinkie Pie retorted, “That is the most boring and unimaginative use of a tongue ever! We call it Such A Waste Mode for a reason! How’s that for a So There?”

This stopped Scootaloo. “What the heck are you talking about, Pinkie Pie?”

In reply, Pinkie stuck out her tongue at Scootaloo, blowing a raspberry to express her disdain, and she did not think to be cautious. To Fluttershy’s horror, she stuck out a shockingly huge expanse of tongue, and wriggled it like a snake while expressing her displeasure—hinting all too clearly at the secrets she and Fluttershy shared.

Apple Bloom squeaked in alarm, and Sweetie Belle fell over with a squelch, her little legs buckling on the spot—and Fluttershy had had enough. “That is it! I have had it! Go and be good somewhere else, or you know what will happen!”

All three fillies gasped, and backed up a step, wide-eyed.

Pinkie blinked, startled by the reaction. “What happens?”

“Go!” ordered Fluttershy.

All three fillies whirled and ran—though Scootaloo darted forwards to grab a big piece of fudge, before turning her attention to the flying tails of her fleeing companions.

Had she been less distracted by the rapid succession of obscene tongue-writhings, delicious fudge, and the need to catch up with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo might have studied the windowsill nearest the door, and the forgotten knick-knacks that cluttered it. She did not—it got only a hurried glance and subconscious attention, before she was out the door and running down the path after her friends.

“H’y! I g’t fudge!” she called, as she ran.

“No way!” came Apple Bloom’s voice. “Slow down, Sweetie, come back! We can split some candy after all!”

Fluttershy stared out the door, exasperated. “This won’t end well. I am sure they are up to no good. I should have kept them here, and made them promise to behave.”

“What happened? I was trying to give them The Talk,” said Pinkie, “and tell them useful things they need to know, and then it all went wrong…”

She fell silent, for the fillies were talking, still within earshot.

“Yeah,” said Apple Bloom, “bite off a piece, Sweetie, there you go…”

“N’w y’u!” said Scootaloo.

“Erg… mph!”

There was a gulping noise, and then Scootaloo’s cocky voice was heard again. “Glad to be of service, girls!”

“There was spit on mine,” complained Sweetie Belle. “It’s not hygenic!”

“Wasn’t me! I was holding it in my teeth, so there!”

“Well,” argued Sweetie, “who else could it have been?”

Apple Bloom’s voice quavered. “What if it was… Pinkie Pie’s… TONGUE?”

Pause, for a moment’s memory and reflection.

Three high-pitched filly screams rang out simultaneously, and then there was nothing but the sound of galloping tiny hooves as the Cutie Mark Crusaders fled a scenario that would haunt their nightmares, especially as those nightmares became pubescent.

Pinkie Pie’s ears drooped, and she could barely meet Fluttershy’s vexed eyes as she said “Sorry, flippylippy. I guess I kinda let the cat out of the bag?”

“Shut the door after them, please,” said Fluttershy. “It’s still rather cold out, and Angel Bunny will complain if I make the house too chilly.”

Pinkie Pie obediently went and nudged the door shut, first the bottom half, then the top. She turned, and walked humbly back to where Fluttershy still sat up imperiously, wings flared out and eyes stern.

Pinkie bowed her head just a little, and kissed Fluttershy’s nose, and yellow wings folded forward to caress her face tenderly and enclose her in a feathery bower of love and forgiveness.

Behind her, on the windowsill nearest the door, a magic bit glinted softly beneath a heavy coat of dust, but neither Fluttershy nor Pinkie Pie spared it a thought.

Shatter

“Hi—Rainbow Dash? Can I have a word with you?”

Rainbow blinked at her unexpected visitor. “Uh—sure! Go right ahead, Twi, I’m listening.”

“Well… if you don’t mind my saying, it looks like you’re doing push-ups.”

“Ooof! Yeah?”

“While,” added Twilight, “balancing all your hooves on inverted apple buckets… Rainbow, what the heck are you doing? Is this some new circus act I’m supposed to know about?”

Dash panted. “Should be pretty… obvious…” she managed, extending her forelegs fully before dropping into another belly-dangling slump. “Spy will just… bounce on the ground any… other way.”

Twi’s ears boggled at the sight. “I guess. I admit I was surprised when Applejack said you were out in the barn! Fluttershy’s staying on her couch almost every waking moment, these days, even though it’s starting to look more like spring.”

“Yeah, well…” hissed Dash, straining to do another push-up, “I’m… not.”

“The thing is,” said Twilight, “Rarity said something about too much exercise bringing on what’s called Braxpone-Hicks contractions, which can be very uncomfortable…”

Dash’s wings, which had been beating the air gently as she worked, suddenly frizzed out as if electrified, and she made a dreadful croaking sound. “Dammit! Don’t! Mention! Those! nnngghh…”

“Oh my gosh. Did I bring one on by saying it?”

Dash sweated, her ears laid back hard, and forced herself to do another push-up. “Idiot! Arggg…”

“You should stop, I’ll get help, you should lay down and rest,” insisted Twilight, trotting back and forth in alarm, for Dash wasn’t even pausing her workout.

“No! Only… three more! Nnngh! Two! Aaaaiiiiiiggh! ONE…”

Rainbow’s chromatic tail thrashed in agony as she forced her body up that one last time and held her pose, trembling. Her head dropped, and she tried to shift a rear hoof off the apple buckets, but her coordination wasn’t at its best, and all she did was kick the thing over and fall down with a muted, earth-shaking thump, sprawling clumsily onto her side, limbs flailing.

“Oh no, Rainbow! Do you need me to get the doctor? Are you okay? I’m sure Fluttershy would tell you never to do that, ever!”

“What’s that?” came Applejack’s voice, and her head peeked around the barn door.

“Nothing! No big deal, okay?” yelled Rainbow Dash.

Applejack’s glance took in Rainbow flopped onto her side, Twilight’s alarm—Dash’s belligerence.

“All righty then!” she said, and promptly ducked out of sight, cantering hastily back to her fields and the preparations for the spring’s planting.

Dash heaved a deep breath. “Yeah, thing is? I don’t care what Fluttershy says. Granny Smith says it’s okay for me to keep fit. And that’s just what I’m gonna do. I’m an Apple! Not a weakling—or an egghead. Alright?”

Twilight recoiled, lifting a forehoof in dismay. “Um…”

“Unless you think you can stop me?” challenged Dash. Her mane was disheveled, and dark circles showed under her eyes. It was all too plain that her plan for dealing with the pain and indignity of advanced pregnancy was to attack—and that it was serving as a vital outlet for an increasingly pissy mood, from an already pugnacious pegasus mare.

“Actually, that’s kind of what I needed to talk to you about…”

“Applejack will back me up. Same with Granny Smith, otherwise it’d be a lot harder to convince Applejack, let me tell you…”

“No, no!” said Twilight. “This is not about exercising. It’s about what you’re telling the kids. You can’t be telling Scootaloo things like that, Rainbow!”

This demand did not soothe the ruffled pegasus. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I think you know what it means! I bet you thought it was really funny, too!” said Twilight.

Rainbow glared. “What? I was serious! Where do you get off… How is that your business?”

“Well,” said Twilight, “don’t you think you made it my business?”

At that, Rainbow froze, staring into space, and then addressed Twilight less belligerently.

“Start over! We are talking about two different things. You can’t mean what I’m thinking about, because you’re like all up in Trixie’s snatch and stuff, so it can’t be a problem for you that I told them about lesbian ponies…”

“It’s more the way you told them,” admitted Twilight.

“What?” snapped Dash.

“You told Scootaloo to buy a penis from me, special order!”

Rainbow stared at Twilight’s anguished, dramatic countenance for about two seconds before bursting into laughter. “BAAAAAHAHAHAHA! Ahahaha! Oh gosh! You mean to tell me she really…”

“She really,” confirmed Twilight crossly. “It’s not funny! At least it’s not as funny as you seem to think it is. What did you think I was talking about?”

Rainbow was still chuckling, waving a forehoof dismissively. “Oh, I thought it was about The Talk! You know—when the kids look up to you and they’re asking you about this new stuff that’s happening to them. You know?”

Twilight’s tone was brittle. “Actually, I don’t know, and I’m not sure why you feel so comfortable with it when you’re not any sort of parent figure to them at all…”

“Whoa. You think it can only be like their Moms telling them? I can think of a few problems with that. First of all, Apple Bloom, her Mom—hear what I’m saying? I’d like to know who’s supposed to count as a parent figure better’n me and Applejack. I’m gonna fucking BE a Mom, okay? Second, I’m not sure I’ve ever met Scootaloo’s mom, she changes the subject on me and won’t talk about it. And last but not least, Rarity gave Sweetie The Talk and she left out a lot of important stuff!”

Twilight’s jaw dropped in horror. “I would hope so!”

“Well… yeah, of course she can’t tell Sweetie all the stuff she’s into, but they say she only told them about mares and stallions! Twilight, those kids have been seeing me and Fluttershy getting bigger and bigger. They know I’m with Applejack and Fluttershy’s with Pinkie. I’m not saying I gave them a whole demonstration, but they had some real questions, okay? Especially Scootaloo…” Dash whistled. “That kid’s way too much like me. I’m not gonna be responsible for screwing her up.”

Twilight’s look of dismay wasn’t going away. “But… don’t you think that a kid needs to explore, you know, on their own, without… uh… INSTRUCTION from somepony like you…”

Rainbow blinked. “Look. Some things are a little out of the ordinary. You can’t just leave it to whatever shit they hear from the other kids! Weren’t you ever a filly?”

Twilight looked down, sullenly. “I knew better than to talk to anypony, and I turned out okay.”

Rainbow gave her a look like she’d just failed a test. “Uh, no, actually. NOT okay. Not for my biggest fan Scootaloo. I’m sure she’ll handle it responsibly, and you said no, right? I’m sorry if it offends your sensibilities…”

“It’s not MY sensibilities I’m worried about!” yelled Twilight.

Dash’s temper flared, inevitably. “Tough! There are more important things than sensibilities, and you’d understand that if you hadn’t spent your life being some kind of big prude!”

“GRRRH!”

Twilight whirled, and galloped out of the barn, and Dash yelled after her, “Hey, stop! I was only kidding! You have no sense of humor! It’s not like I even meant to… ARRGH!”

“Whoa, Nelly!” gasped Applejack, seeing Twilight run past. She stared after her, looked back hastily at the barn, then back at fleeing Twilight, then settled her hat back onto her head with a hoof and took off at a run towards the barn.

“Easy, Dashie—everythin’ all right?”

“Twilight’s a big fat idiot!”

“Aw, now. Sure she is, maybe you kin tell me all about it? I reckon she can take care of her own mad, what’s on your mind? Breathe, sugarcube… yeah, like that, but I’m thinkin’ slower… talk to me, hon.”

Out on the main road, Twilight ran on.

Rarity cuddled her unicorn friend, a saintly look on her alabaster face—and then squeaked in alarm at a series of hunching motions in the hips alongside hers.

“Lyra! Darling!”

Lyra gasped. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t help it, you felt so good! It just… oh, Rarity, you are so desirable! All you girls are, I could just jump on all of you and…”

“Lyra! Calm yourself! I cannot say it is entirely displeasing to hear, I just wonder if…” Rarity trailed off, and stared into space. Her own hips wriggled experimentally, and she seemed to be studying her own feelings and sensations, brow furrowed in concentration.

“Lyra? Tell me the truth, dear. Do you have your magic bit secreted in that charming little saddlebag you wear?”

Lyra gulped. “Maybe?” She met Rarity’s stern gaze. “Yes! Yes, I have it right here. If it’s okay, I could… use it some more, on you…”

“I thought so,” said Rarity with satisfaction. “I could feel it. Lyra, you’ve been wearing that saddlebag everywhere. Has the bit been in it all this time?”

Lyra nodded, trembling.

“You shouldn’t…” Rarity hesitated, staring into those wild golden eyes. “Lyra… Heartstrings, do you know where mine is kept?”

Lyra stared frantically around the Carousel Boutique’s inner sanctum. “Do you want to do me? Please! I’m sure I can do it this time if I only try harder, I’m not that snug!”

“Lyra, listen! I didn’t say that! My point is as follows, darling—mine is kept on that far shelf. I sleep over here, it sleeps over there, because there is a proximity effect. Yours is too near. It is getting to you. It is making you dismayingly ravenous. Powerful magic must be treated with caution…”

The door was bucked open with a bang, and Twilight Sparkle stood in the doorway, wild-eyed.

“Am I a big prude? AM I? WELL?” she squealed. Behind her, Carousel Boutique customers stared in shock. Two glanced at each other, frowning, while a third kept looking at dresses and paid no attention.

Rarity and Lyra clung to each other, trembling. Rarity gulped, her lip quivering. “Erm… no?”

Twilight stomped in, teeth gritted. “I’d like to think I’m pretty enlightened. I’d like to think I have kind of a wild side, that I’m a sexy little pony! But NO, to Rainbow Dash I’m just some prude who doesn’t understand things!”

“Doesn’t understand what things?” quavered Rarity, closing the door behind Twilight as two of the customers left.

“Which brings me to your esteemed guest! Lyra! You may not ever sell, rent, loan, convey, or in any way share your bit with Scootaloo! Just because Rainbow Dash thinks it’s all a big joke does not change the fact that we live in a reality in which there are things that can happen, and things that cannot happen, and the dicking of Scootaloo is a thing that can’t happen! In any sense, do you hear me? I don’t even know who her Mom is so I guess I better say what her Mom would no doubt be telling you!”

Lyra tried to hide her face under Rarity’s foreleg, and Rarity sheltered her, meeting Twilight’s burning gaze.

“Do we understand each other?” demanded Twilight.

Lyra nodded frantically, her body twitching in fitful, suppressed attempts to flee.

“And you, Rarity! Do you think I am prudish? Do you?”

“Mistress?” The voice came from outside the inner sanctum, through the door that had been shut but was now cracked open. “Trixie saw you running this way…”

Trixie poked her head in, and met Rarity’s terrified gaze. Her eyes widened.

“Mistress, what’s going on?”

“I am NOT prudish!” yelled Twilight Sparkle. “Just because I have to control the public excesses of everypony in Ponyville…”

Trixie ran in, her magic banging the door shut behind her, and abased herself before Twilight. “Mistress! Do not do the glowy white eyes thing! Don’t hurt Girl, or Heartstrings!”

“Well, make them act right, and tell them I’m not prudish, no matter what Rainbow Dash might say!” demanded Twilight, trembling.

Trixie’s eyes darted back and forth for a moment. The blue unicorn plainly was thinking as hard as she could while maintaining her submissive position—Rarity could almost see the gears whirring as Trixie Lulamoon worked out the situation, coming up with a plan.

Trixie had seen Twilight flip out before, and plainly was ready to try anything to defuse the threat of her hyper-powered, furious beloved. She drew a deep breath, and her horn glowed—and an armoire skidded across the floor and came to rest against the door, keeping the four mares in and preventing any possible curious customer’s interruption.

“Show us, Mistress,” said Trixie.

Twilight blinked. “What?”

“Please! Let us be at your disposal until you have blown off all your steam. Show us how not-prudish you are! Trixie is sure you will feel better!”

Twilight pecked at the floor with a forehoof. “I ought to! I’ll show you!”

“Show us, show us!” begged Trixie. “Right, Rarity? Lyra?” She shot them an intense, pleading glance.

Lyra was frozen with alarm. She only stared back at Trixie, incomprehendingly. Rarity glanced back and forth between Twilight and Trixie, and spoke…

“Twilight, have you been sleeping with your bit under your pillow?”

The question broke the spell of drama and resentment. Twilight blinked, and glanced at Rarity in a more peaceful way, and replied, “No, why?”

“Where, then, do you place it whilst it is not in use?”

Twilight blinked again, considering the question. “Bedside tables. You know, so we can grab it during the night on a whim. It goes back and forth. Might be on mine, might be on Trixie’s side…”

“Mistress, it’s lived on your side for weeks,” pointed out Trixie.

“Well, yeah,” said Twilight, “but I’ve been doing all the nighttime poking lately and I thought you were fine with that, now you’re telling me you have a problem with it?”

Rarity cleared her throat, with an air of decision. “I’ve told Lyra, now I shall tell you: more care must be taken with these things. Twilight, we’ve spoken before about the proximity effect our bits develop, have we not?”

Twilight’s eyes widened, and then she blushed. “Oh gosh. You know, I wasn’t even thinking of that? It explains why I’ve been wanting to jump on Trixie more and more…”

“It explains many things, about many ponies, darling,” said Rarity. “You simply must place the device at a greater distance, especially while you sleep. And Lyra must come up with a more suitable home for her bit, she is keeping it in that bag of hers and essentially wearing it at all times! The both of you are penis-headed to a shocking extent.”

Trixie gasped. “Girl! Really!”

Rarity batted her eyelashes innocently for a moment, and then her jaw dropped and she blanched. “I meant literally! I… oh, hell!”

Trixie stared her down, smirking. “Girl has spoken with great rudeness to her mistresses. And, Heartstrings needs to be tamed… and Mistress is pent up with bit-influence that has her overly stallionish. Is this a fair assessment of the situation?”

Rarity gulped. “…yes, Mistress.”

Twilight stamped a hoof. “Trixie, where do you get off jumping in and…”

Trixie glanced sharply at her. “Dearest Mistress, Trixie has interceded for you before. Please trust me? Your Trixie knows and understands you, and has a plan.”

Twilight regarded her suspiciously. “A plan, huh?”

Trixie nodded. “A plan, Mistress. For all ponies to feel better, and be better adjusted to their places.”

“And tell me, what places are these, exactly?” prodded Twilight.

Trixie smirked.

“Under us, squealing in filthy orgasm.”

Rarity and Lyra gulped, though Lyra’s eyes dilated with mad intensity at the same time. Twilight’s muzzle slowly grew a wicked little smile.

“Sold,” she said. “How should we start?”

Trixie trotted over to inspect her victims. “Girl. Do you agree with Trixie’s assessment of the situation?”

Rarity nodded with emphasis. “You have perfectly captured it, Mistress. We must burn off the pent up energies of these two, and restore harmoniousness.”

“Trixie has just the solution. Fetch your own bit, girl! Lie in your bed, on your back, in stallion form.”

Rarity squeaked, and leapt to her hooves, scampering across the room to retrieve her magic bit from a distant shelf. As she seized it between her teeth, the stallionhood burst forth between her legs, in all its implausible girth and length. She trotted back, the heavy shaft swinging under her, and leapt back into bed, immediately obeying Trixie and assuming the desired position.

Trixie nodded, in satisfaction. “Twilight!” she said.

“What? Do you want me to jump on? Give me a minute to warm up…”

“No,” said Trixie, eyes narrowing. “Grab Heartstrings!”

Lyra’s eyes widened for an instant in alarm, and then she went over in a flurry of shapely green legs, tackled by her heavier companion. She squealed, kicking, but Twilight had her in a fierce embrace, like stallions playing hoofball, but with more glisteny vagina than hoofball players usually had to offer.

Trixie laughed. “I meant with your magic! Fine. That will save time. Place her upon Rarity!”

Twilight did a doubletake. “But… I saw, earlier. She won’t fit onto Rarity, she’s just too tight! You said so yourself!”

“Trixie has an answer for that…”

“What if it hurts her?” said Twilight.

Trixie gave Twilight a weary look.

“We have to tame her somehow. And Girl’s right—we have to tame you. Maybe this will work. Now, place Heartstrings on… ah.”

No placing was necessary. Lyra had wriggled free of Twilight’s constraining hug, and had leapt up to straddle Rarity, and was already pressing herself back against the titanic ponycock, with no better success than she’d had before.

“We’re supposed to tame this?” blinked Twilight.

Lyra squealed, her dainty saddlebag flapped, and her tail tossed merrily, as her toned flanks struggled to drive her backwards onto Rarity’s shaft. Her hips wriggled in fevered desperation.

Trixie gave another weary look. “We’d better. If Heartstrings is wearing her bit constantly, it might explain why she was mad enough to show it to the foal. We’ll take it away, but we’d better discharge her energies too—as best we can.”

Rarity whimpered, her eyes wide. Trixie glanced sharply at her. “Not into you, Girl! Trixie saw your distress when that happened! We’ll steer clear of that as well. No, we shall discharge two pent-up ponies in one lightning-like jolt!”

Twilight’s eyes widened. “Oooooh.”

Trixie smirked. “That’s right, dearest Twilight. Think you can take it?”

Twilight bit her lip, a wild light in her eyes. “That… should do nicely.”

Lyra hadn’t quit her wriggling and shoving, and the end of Rarity’s cock was now totally painted with silky unicorn nectar, to no avail. Trixie glanced back at her and twitched with alarm at the frantic shoving, then pulled herself together, regaining her air of command. “Girl!”

“Y’s?” whimpered Rarity.

“Munch on that bit! Loosely! Make your teeth bite and loosen and bite again—now!”

Rarity, daunted by Lyra’s fiery expression, hid her face behind her forehooves but complied—her jaw working against the shiny hard metal of the bit.

Lyra jerked, and squealed again, for the solidity of that massive shaft was suddenly changed in an alarming way. It shrank back and leapt forward violently as Rarity shifted the grip of her teeth, the magical penis abruptly changing size and length, thumping against Lyra’s juicy mons…

Just as Trixie began to say, “More!” there was a sharp squelch, Rarity and Lyra froze, and Lyra let out a paint-peeling shriek.

Trixie and Twilight stared at what they had wrought—or what Trixie had wrought, in any case. Rarity’s bulky shaft impaled Lyra’s dainty snatch like a cork in a bottle, wedged rigid, a glistening line of lubrication marking where the brutal pressure had squeezed out even Lyra’s frenetic juices. It had burst into her while springing forth, and trapped her in an instant, the flare plunging into her pert vagina and immediately swelling up with horrible suddenness—way too large to withdraw.

Lyra screamed again, shuddering, and Twilight squeaked, “Oh my gosh! Trixie, she can’t…”

“You could,” snapped Trixie, and Twilight fell silent.

They watched for a moment. Rarity still hid her face, but kept a firm grip on the bit, awaiting further instructions. Lyra’s ass quivered, and they could see her body clenching down on the stallionhood, forcing a whimper out of Rarity, but Lyra didn’t try to pull away. Her tail thrashed, her hoof shifted and rumpled the bedcovers. She was trying to push it deeper.

“Stage two,” said Trixie, licking her lips.

“Are you going to make Rarity fuck her?” breathed Twilight.

“No,” said Trixie. She bent her head, and nudged Twilight’s ass with the side of her horn, noting with approval the slickness of Twilight’s marehood. The purple darling was always rather a sucker for extreme play… Trixie shoved her more firmly towards the mating couple.

“Get on top of Heartstrings, Twilight. Straddle her.”

Twilight took a step, and glanced back at Trixie. “But… first of all, I don’t have our bit here, and second I don’t wanna ass-fuck Lyra! Um, as rude as that sounds… I don’t, really I don’t. That’s your big idea?”

“No,” said Trixie. “I’ll need some self-control, I’ll explain later. We’ve proved I can have that. Do it!”

Twilight, blinking in confusion, hopped onto the bed and tentatively climbed up to straddle Lyra, who shuddered and wailed as Twilight’s weight shifted her lighter frame, shoving the tight-locked stallionhood within her. Trixie followed, licking her lips, a look of concentration on her face, lowering her head.

Twilight settled down, her legs wrapped around Lyra’s quivering pert rump, her crotch pressed against Lyra’s dock and her nipples stiffening as the base of Lyra’s tail wriggled against her breasts. She gulped, instinctively hugging Lyra’s fevered green body to her, and began to turn her head, to ask what was next.

The corner of her eye caught Trixie’s pale mane against the blue of her tail—more mane than she expected to see, all mane as if she was looking at the top of Trixie’s head…

Twilight made a strangled noise of total shock as she felt Trixie’s horntip tuck between her labia, parting her folds and steadily pushing its way up her vagina.

“Trixieeeee!” she squealed. “What the fuck, Trixie?”

The horn sank deeper, prying her pussy wide as the conical form entered her inch by inch, slickened by her copious juices that soaked Trixie’s pride in an act of outrageous and dangerous desecration. Rarity, beneath the stack, squirmed and mewled as she worked out what was happening. Her motion made Lyra cry out, again.

“I can handle it!” came Trixie’s voice. “You’ve come into my horn before, you know I can hold back! You couldn’t do that if I didn’t have control of it!” Her head pressed harder and harder until her mane and her hard little skull pressed up against Twilight’s crotch. “I swear I won’t hurt you, I can handle it!”

Twilight reeled, vagina wedged wide by the unthinkable, Trixie’s hot little head ramming her mound, her own breasts pressed against a hysterical green unicorn who wriggled, split by Rarity’s impossibly thick stallionhood. She drew a deep breath.

“HOLY FUCK THIS IS SO FUCKING WRONG!”

“And you love it… don’t you?” came Trixie’s voice. It sounded like she had one of her hard wicked smiles on, like she was fully in dominant mode for all that she was desecrating her horn in an impossibly obscene fashion.

Twilight gulped.

“YES!”

Trixie sighed in satisfaction. “Now, Twilight, the rest is up to you. Me and Girl, we hold still. Lyra’s body is beneath you, your weight can shift her. What you must do, gently at first… is rock.”

“What?” managed Twilight.

“Rock. Back and forth,” said Trixie. “Gently.”

Twilight bit her lip, and shifted her weight a bit. As she did, Lyra’s body rocked forwards, dragging the overstuffed stallionhood a tiny distance out of her, tugging it within her straining pelvis—and at the same time, Trixie’s head pressed less firmly against Twilight’s mound, and the thick conical penetration into her pussy shifted as well.

Twilight thought she could feel the grooves on Trixie’s horn sliding against her quivering inner walls. She reeled with pleasure, but it was nothing compared to Lyra’s reaction. Her tail thrashed against Twilight’s groin, and she gasped hard, her body trembling.

Twilight bit her lip, and set up a gentle rocking motion. The rewards exceeded her expectations. She did feel the texture of Trixie’s horn, those deep grooves that her tongue had traced in acts she thought were the peak of kinkiness—how little she knew! One of her most shameful and unnatural fantasies was coming to life. She had to trust Trixie, because the fantasy could not be allowed to emerge completely. It was a death-fantasy, being burned up from energy discharge not catalyzed through another unicorn horn, and as much as her mind strayed and imagined tingles and crackles of energy inside her wildly aroused pussy, that could not be allowed to happen.

Lyra shrieked again as Twilight rocked harder, imagining it, her groin thumping against Trixie’s skull. She felt Trixie twisting her head, and she reeled again at the sheer perversion of the act, and fantasized more intensely, heedless of the way she was rocking Lyra’s body and working the Rarity cock inside her.

Lyra struggled weakly, braying her pleasures in guttural cries, her body shifting back and forth against the rock of Rarity’s stubbornly fixed hips. The tugging and pushing didn’t really slide the cock within her—it was too tight—it simply dragged at her insides, shoved that uncompromising bulk this way and that. She banged a forehoof against the bed, right by Rarity’s head—a head still shielded by alabaster forelegs. Rarity was braced as if ready for a bomb to go off. A sharp breath hissed through her flared nostrils, then another…

Twilight began to cry out, “Eeeeeeeee!” and shoved herself heedlessly against Trixie’s horn, her eyes squeezed shut.

Trixie gritted her teeth, fighting back the tingling she felt, precursor to a horngasm that would be unthinkably dangerous if not catalyzed the normal way.

Lyra jolted, her body tensing, her horn glittering and filming with an expectant sheen of magic.

Rarity squeezed her eyes shut tighter, forelegs shielding her face and horn…

“Ngg! nhh! hhh!”

Rarity let go, her cock throbbing heavily as a gush of raw magic pumped hungrily into Lyra’s vagina, flooding it, surging into her womb and filling her petite mareparts to bursting.

Lyra let out a shriek, her mind drowned in a white-out of psyche-mangling orgasm as the huge magic cock flooded her, and she unleashed a withering bolt of magic from her horn.

Twilight’s horn had been glittering as well, and suddenly she sensed that, while the unicorn horn shoved up her vagina would not really burn her up in a horrible, wonderful orgasmic death, she was right next to another one and smelled the air frying from the power mere inches from her face. Her eyes flew wide, reflecting nothing but the magic gushing from Lyra, and Twilight’s own horn let go and squirted magic at the sight.

Lyra’s horngasm turned and struck like a snake, slamming into Twilight’s horn the instant another arc presented itself to be grounded through.

And four screams rang out, ripped from four shocked throats, as both Twilight Sparkle and Trixie Lulamoon lit up a ghostly green… electrified, flooded from tip to tail with Lyra’s overwhelming, mind-melting erotic magic discharge.

Twilight jolted and kicked, driven beyond endurance, her body racked with ecstacy beyond anything she’d experienced, feeling like some pony-shaped pipe through which an intolerable flood of magic gushed. Behind her, Trixie’s tail thrashed again and again as she fought to stay still, not jab or twist, above all not gush uncatalysed magic from her own horn—but who was she kidding? She had no chance of it, no chance at all. Lyra’s magic forced itself into her through even the faintest glittering she couldn’t suppress, flooding her as well, flavored in a mysterious and unmistakable way by the taste of Twilight’s magic, so powerful but now so soft and melting in its texture, merging and blending with Lyra’s. Trixie leaked tears as she hung on, never quite allowing herself to squirt, oozing her own magic up into Twilight’s vagina where it melded with the seething torrents of magic that churned Twilight Sparkle…

Twilight let out three almighty shrieks, her eyes staring wildly into space, and there was a final flash of blinding white, and the arcs of magic cut out abruptly and the ponies collapsed onto each other like puppets with cut strings.

Rarity, trembling, peeked out from behind her forehooves.

She saw no more magic discharges. Gently, she let her jaw open, and the bit dropped onto the pillow beside her, next to where Lyra’s head sagged. Behind Twilight, she saw Trixie tugging her horn free, and winced to see the pussy juices coating it. Lyra’s body was fiery hot against her, or perhaps it was just the weight. So much weight! Both Lyra and Twilight had splatted onto her as if they’d been clubbed in the head, and Rarity struggled to draw a decent breath.

“Girl… good girl.. let Trixie help,” said Trixie, staggering up to gaze at her blearily. Gently, Trixie nudged Twilight, and first she and then Lyra sprawled bonelessly over to the side, toppling off their balancing act atop Rarity to lie in a tangled heap of jelly-like unicorns.

“Did we do it?” breathed Rarity.

Trixie grinned weakly from under her alarmingly ooze-smeared horn. “If that didn’t do it, nothing could. Ohhhh, girl… thank you, thank you so much… Trixie has never felt anything like it, Trixie cannot imagine what it was like for Twilight.”

Rarity got unsteadily to her hooves, and regarded the obliterated lavender unicorn. “Methinks she was left satisfied. They are all right?”

“Trixie thinks so,” said Trixie, and yawned. “Why? Do you have things to attend to?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said Rarity. “The only part of me subject to all that was the penis, and that vanishes. Goodness—I am all worked up, I fear. I need a good rutting, when it’s convenient for somepony! And I am worried that my inner sanctum may not have been as soundproofed as I’d hoped…”

Lyra’s ear flicked. Trixie blinked, wobbling gently. “Trixie thought it was?”

“Against four simultaneous shrieks like that?” said Rarity. “Pray allow me to make excuses, should any customers have heard. Thank heaven for locks and latches! I am not sure we should ever attempt such things during business hours again!” Her horn glowed as she dragged the armoire away from the door, clearing her path and preparing her return to the world of the fashion customer.

“Sorry, Girl—ah, Rarity, I mean,” yawned Trixie. “Can we sleep it off in here for now? Even if it’s business hours?”

Rarity smiled. “But of course. That is no imposition. Thank heavens my part was something I can withstand graciously… sleep well, darling!”

Behind Trixie, Lyra stirred, and looked around. Her young body trembled, weak from its intense sexual release. She spotted the magic bit lying on the pillow, where Rarity had dropped it, and her soul was filled with the earnest longing to return the favor Rarity had bestowed upon her quivering body. A good rutting, eh?

Rarity turned to open the door, slipping out and speaking courteously to some unseen pony out in the boutique, her alabaster butt briefly glimpsed in the doorway, exquisite vag framed between silky softly rounded cheeks, a vision of alluringness.

Trixie turned to return to the bed, and her eyes widened as a green trembling form shoved past her, toppling her. She fell against Twilight, who emitted an adorable squeak and squirmed weakly. She watched as Lyra staggered for the door—and realised there was something projecting under her, that Lyra was using the bit and going after Rarity.

“Heartstrings!”

The earth pony mare hadn’t minded the absence of a salesmare. It provided an opportunity to blushingly peek at a few of the more ‘special’ offerings before trotting away in haste and pretending not to look. She’d returned to the safer, and still quite exquisite, dresses on display: admiring the rakish angles of the hems, considering which shade of fabric set off the color of her own floral cutie mark. It seemed like many of the dresses rather exposed the cutie mark and rode very high, also exposing the dock most shamelessly, but one dress appeared slightly more modest. The trouble was, it was the wrong color, and the one with the best color also featured the boldest cut.

As she knit her brow, considering this vexing dilemma, she realised a door had opened, and the pony who owned the boutique was looking at her, and appearing rather flustered. Had she seen the investigations of naughty bridles? The mare flushed, but Rarity was already speaking.

“You didn’t hear anything awkward, darling, did you, I trust?”

The mare blinked. “Not really, why?”

Rarity heaved a sigh of relief, as a shadow moved behind her, to the sound of a muffled shout from inside the room. “Oh good! It’s just that… aaaaahh!”

From within the room, a terrifying apparition emerged, shoving Rarity out into the shop. It seemed to be a maddened, very effeminate green unicorn stallion, with wild unkempt mane and tail, eyes bleary, teeth snarling around some small object. Its penis swung shockingly as it reared and seized Rarity’s waist in a death-grip. She screamed again, and the green hips swung forward…

The earth pony mare shrunk back, appalled. Rarity tried to brace herself against the savage thrusts, as the demented creature nuzzled the side of her neck and humped her like a stray dog snatching a desperate illicit fuck in broad daylight… Squelching noises split the air as his long green phallus plunged again and again to Rarity’s depths.

Rarity gazed in terror at her innocent customer, and cried out mysterious things.

“Ap… aaaaa… apples, apples! Ahhh! AAAHH!”

“Heartstrings!” shouted a blue unicorn, charging out of the room.

Rarity could not look away from the customer’s horrified gaze. Her eyes pleaded, begged forgiveness, and then she let out a horrible cry and began to come right in front of the appalled mare, legs shaking violently, ass clenching around the plunging green cock even as it cranked up to a churning frenzy of maddened fuck-tempo.

The green unicorn looked up with wild, contemptuous eyes, as if seeing not the earth pony mare customer, but some other earth pony in her place—and whinnied a wild, triumphant cry through savagely bared teeth, jerking and hunching and spurting pony-come into Rarity.

Rarity’s scream was dreadful—she’d gone red in the face, and her horn glittered and began to spurt, though her face was a mask of sensuous despair—and as it did, the green unicorn fired a jet of magic from its horn, which curved over and struck Rarity’s horn, causing her to convulse and buck. She tried to run in spite of the stallion fucking her, and fell heavily, with another terrible scream as she hit, the green stallion still clinging to her and pumping her full of ponycome from one end and magic from the other.

But by then, the earth pony customer had turned tail and fled like demons were after her…

Twilight staggered out of the room, to see Trixie standing over Lyra and Rarity on the floor, raging.

“That was your last chance! Your last chance, Lyra! Trixie doesn’t care what made you do it, you don’t deserve such toys! Trixie would never have allowed it if she knew! That was a safeword, damn you! You’ve hurt Girl again, weren’t you listening, don’t you listen to anything?”

Lyra scrabbled back, still gripping the bit in her teeth. Her flare yanked out of Rarity, spurting some more come as it went, and Rarity sobbed and shuddered as it wrenched its way free of her. Lyra couldn’t spare a moment to look at Rarity even when she curled up in a ball and Twilight rushed to her side, for Trixie was pursuing with murder in her eyes, and it was all Lyra could do to scramble away and stagger to her hooves.

Trixie’s horn glowed, and began to steam, Twilight’s juices burning away as the vengeful unicorn gathered her energies. “Drop it!”

Lyra stared wildly at Trixie, bit still in her teeth.

“Drop it, you no longer deserve a bit!” shouted Trixie. “Your bit privileges are over! If we can’t trust you, you can get the hell out! Drop it, I said!”

Lyra cowered, shaking her head.

“Now!” bellowed Trixie, right in her face.

Lyra whinnied in terror, dropped the magic bit, and whirled to flee, those toned youthful flanks pumping in a frenzied sprint: away from the three unicorns, away from the Carousel Boutique, away from the dropped bit that gleamed mockingly on the floor.

Trixie chased, galloping out the front door, but very soon she appeared back again, looking angry. “Too fast! She’s too fast. And Trixie couldn’t work her magic while running, and is too mad to focus anyway… oh, Rarity! How can we help you?”

Rarity trembled in Twilight’s embrace, her lip quivering, her eyes horribly vulnerable and filling with tears. She looked up at Trixie’s dismayed face, and tried to smile, which was dreadful to see.

“It will… be all right… thank you, d… d… darling…” Her face twisted as she fought to get the word out. “N… nothing’s wrong, pay n… n… no attention…”

Trixie wrung her hooves. “Girl! No! Seriously! Trixie saw you safeword, and she just ignored it completely, there is something very wrong with that pony…”

Twilight gulped. “Good thing you took her bit away, Trixie. She was going after Scootaloo, I just know it. It’s horrible. I never knew she was a… a monster! I thought she was just young and stupid, and maybe the bit was driving her insane…”

Rarity twisted, to gaze imploringly at Twilight. “Promise me you’ll k… keep yours at a safe distance! Not on your bedside table! Swear it to me, swear it, Twilight Sparkle!”

Twilight squeaked, alarmed at the intensity. “Yes, yes, I swear! We’ll go and put it somewhere way across the room, okay? You think this is all about bit radiations? She fucking raped you until you fell over, damn it! I can’t even believe it!”

Rarity struggled to master her feelings. “I don’t, I don’t think she meant it quite that way. The way she held me, fondled me, nuzzled me…” Her face twisted again as she felt once more the dreadful, tainted adoration and delight over her body, saw the disgusted, shocked, disbelieving female face looking at her—and she began to weep, making a pitiful soft wailing noise.

Trixie heaved shuddering breaths, watching. “I’ll kill her. Trixie will go and kill her…”

“Slow down,” said Twilight. “None of this makes enough sense. Trixie, there was a time when I was hot to do something just like that, and you stopped me. I’m gonna say, whatever we do, no killing Lyra. We’ve got the bit away from her. That’s the important thing. I think we’d better go find her. If she can flip out like that, we need to make sure she’s safe to be around ponies…”

Rarity was crying against Twilight’s neck, a heartbreaking and forlorn sound, but as Twilight spoke, she stopped. Her lip quivered dreadfully, but she wiped her eyes with the back of a hoof, and tried to talk.

“Girl?” said Trixie, leaning close. “Tell Trixie. What is it?”

“My… pillow. Check my pillow… what is on my pillow?”

Trixie was gone, galloping back into the Inner Sanctum, then running right back, panting as she arrived. “Nothing! Trixie found nothing on your pillow.”

Twilight’s eyes widened as she realized what Rarity was driving at.

Rarity sniffled, and looked tragic. “Then… she used mine. On me. And that’s it, over there. That one’s mine. It was lying on the pillow, right next to her.”

“And…” breathed Twilight, looking haunted.

“She’s still got hers,” said Rarity. “She’s carrying it on her person, in that lovely saddlebag.” Rarity sniffled again, and added, bitterly, “Twenty-four seven… as I discovered.”

Twilight hugged Rarity very tight. She looked up, quickly. “Trixie, you should…”

…but Trixie was already gone, galloping madly out the door and down the road.

Furtive Sneaks

The moonlight, filtering through the trees south of Ponyville, cast a feeble, blue, dappled light on the ground.

Wind stirred the leaves, and rustled the bushes, and a shaft of moonlight glimmered weakly, revealing greens that were mostly grey with the stillness of the night.

The washed-out dark greens of one bush betrayed a paler green within—then, a flash of gold as an eye peeped from the foliage, fearfully.

Then, the glitter of a tear in moonlight.

Lyra crept from the bush, her legs cramped and stiff, trembling in the lingering chill of the spring night. Leaves and twigs stuck in her mane, and she peered this way and that, fretfully, and began to creep down the road into town.

She longed to turn and flee, to run and hide in some cave halfway to Fillydelphia, as she’d done when Trixie had first turned on her. The dream of lesbian unicorn orgies had flared up to impossible brightness—only to burn out, horribly, irredeemably.

The worst part, Lyra felt, was that she’d let herself believe three unicorns could handle her. She cursed that hunger, that dissatisfaction that haunted her every moment, and she schemed desperately to find a place in Equestria for herself—some safe harbor that her madness would not destroy. Hope seemed very naive, and she felt thousands of years old and helpless as a filly, all at the same time.

She had to make it into town, and get her stuff, most importantly her lyre, because she had one last chance at emotional and sexual refuge, and would have to pull out all the stops—make herself pretty, beg and plead, maybe even play and sing love songs, for she wouldn’t be able to impress through the copious magic-spurtings of her horn, where she was going.

Lyra meant to win the heart of Princess Luna—and meet her match, at last.

As a cloud obscured the moon, she crept into town—not by the road, but sort of alongside it, lurking amongst the trees, taking cover behind a cow-barn and staying out of sight—always looking ahead for fear Trixie Lulamoon would appear, barring her path. Slinking past the cozy ranch owned by the Apple family, approaching the little bridge across the stream that led into town, hugging the edge of the woods. There were three little bridges, in fact, but one was directly in front of the Carousel Boutique and that was far too dangerous to go near.

Lyra winced, as a cloud obscured the moon again, casting her into darkness. Why had Rarity acted that way? It wasn’t fair. Twilight had said, outright, that Rarity’s kink was being dominated and used against her will. She’d come super hard, and what could possibly be wrong with mounting her and savoring the exquisite pleasures of her body, wallowing in her beauty and desirability? Particularly when showing that hunger for her turned her on, particularly when the alternative seemed to be hurting her? How could that be right, that hitting her and causing pain was pleasure, but growing a penis and plunging it into her quivering marehood counted as a terrible crime?

Another tear came to Lyra’s eye as she tried to understand, knowing it was too late. Twilight said that for herself and Rarity, they lived such stressful lives that they sought relief through being used and dominated. It had even made a sort of sense. Or at least Lyra had thought it made sense at the time, and done her best…

She shook her head. There was no answer to that thought. She could still hear Rarity weeping—her fault.

Lyra followed the treeline away from the central bridge. There was too much exposed road to risk it—and she didn’t dare get closer to the Carousel Boutique. She imagined Rarity, sitting up in bed in a sudden panic, sensing her loathsome presence—never explaining why Lyra was so terrible, just weeping and carrying on and then trying to pretend nothing was wrong, but it was obviously so false. Lyra stumbled, just thinking about it, and the shadow covered her again as she began to cry in earnest. She was a monster, just a monster, and if she couldn’t seek out Princess Luna…

The shadow was dark—too dark.

Lyra whirled, looking up at the sky, and there was nothing but cloud blotting out the stars as if expanding outwards with a sound like vengeful wings…

The cloud broke up, blown violently in all directions, and a huge fat flapping form dropped upon her, pinning her to the ground as she squeaked.

“Hi, cutie,” whispered Rainbow Dash. “Mind explaining why you’re sneaking around Sweet Apple Acres in the dark, crying?”

Lyra stared up at the cerulean pegasus, whose mighty wings still beat the air fitfully. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open, but no sound came out, only a faint wheezing.

“Oh, sorry…” said Dash. “I’d better let you up—Spy’s pretty good at squishing ponies with a little help from me. Applejack could tell you that! But before I get off you, how about you promise not to run away until you’ve told me what you’re doing? We already got one Spy in Sweet Apple Acres. Job’s filled, no room for a second spy!”

Dash glared, and Lyra shook her head frantically.

“Oh, you’re NOT a spy? Good, so what the buck are you doing, Lyra? I thought I saw you running around with Twilight and Trixie and Rarity and that crowd.”

Lyra continued to shake her head. Her face twisted in woe, and she started to cry again, and still couldn’t get breath for a word of explanation.

“Oh, horseapples. Okay, fine, you better not run away…”

Dash rolled her weight off Lyra, and did her best to grab the sobbing unicorn and prevent escape, but it wasn’t necessary. Lyra grabbed right back, clinging to Rainbow, pressing into the warm circle of her embrace and sobbing against her neck, her horn bonking awkwardly against Rainbow’s chin as Dash grunted and tried to lie comfortably on her side.

“Kid’s making me fuckin’ soft already,” muttered Rainbow. “Okay, okay. What’s the matter, Lyra? Don’t cry. C’mon, talk to me, what’s eatin’ you?”

Lyra sniffled, piteously. “I’m horrible! I’m awful!”

Dash snickered. “Really? I always thought you were pretty hot for a unicorn. What’s got you saying that? I mean, yeah, you’re obnoxious and won’t put out, but I was used to that…”

“I fucked Rarity…” managed Lyra.

“If that’s supposed to be bad, you get a hoof to the head. She’s my friend too. Heh—I guess at least you won’t be telling me you rode her off into the sunset, because you always looked like one tight little pony-pocket to me and it probably wouldn’t…”

“No,” sniffled Lyra. “It did… she did… it was amazing, amazing…”

Dash stared into space, with an air of complete exasperation. “For fuck’s sake…”

“What?” squeaked Lyra, startled. “What’s wrong, is that wrong?”

“No, it’s okay,” said Dash. “Incredibly annoying, but okay. Unbelievable. Dammit!”

“I’m sorry! Please don’t be angry at me!”

“No, no, I… dammit! Does EVERY pony get a piece of that action but me? Continue. This is amazing, really. I always thought Rarity was pretty hot even though she’s totally bonkers, and when she grabs a bit—whoof! I’m just mad I never got any. Guess I’m not in shape for it right now. Hah! It might help for when I have Spy! Go on, please. What happened?”

Lyra looked miserable, in the pale moonlight. “I thought I was doing it right. I came SO HARD. And she needed fucking, she even said so, and I jumped on her and I did my best, I swear, and then she was all freaking upset and wouldn’t say why, just lay there crying, and now they hate me and Trixie is out to get me…”

Dash froze, and then addressed Lyra with seriousness. “Thank you for reminding me about that.”

“About what?”

“Why not to fuck Rarity. Seriously! What you said is, like, my worst nightmare… I guess maybe it’s worth it. Was it worth it?”

Lyra wasn’t comforted by these observations. Dash poked her with a hoof. “More to the point, what are you doing here? You didn’t answer. Are you trying to get Applejack? You can’t have her, she’s mine, so don’t even…”

“No!” sobbed Lyra, and began to cry again.

“All right, all right. Good. Cos’, you know, you and sharing—not so much—and Applejack and unicorns, let’s just say it hasn’t always worked out. She’s fine not playing with other mares, though it seems like a waste. So what ARE you doing, Lyra?”

Golden eyes pleaded with ruby ones. “I have to get into town and get my lyre out of the room I was renting! Without Trixie catching me!”

“So get it,” said Dash. “Why are you carrying on about it? That’s a simple caper, in and out. You’re not dressed for it, so I guess you’re not good at stealth. What do you need the lyre for?”

Lyra drew a deep, shaking breath.

“Three unicorns aren’t enough to handle me, so I have to get my lyre and then use it and my magic bit to seduce Princess Luna, who’s locked up in the castle in Canterlot. There’s guards and everything.”

Rainbow Dash stared, stunned. Lyra tried desperately to explain the madness, stammering frantic words into the silence.

“The thing is I have to have Princess Luna because my horn ejaculates too hard for unicorn mares and that might have been hurting Rarity or something, it sort of knocked Twilight out but Princess Luna’s horn-come cuts through rock, Trixie saw it, and the only hope I can have for finding love in Equestria is to let Princess Luna make love to me and arc with me which Twilight says won’t burn me up with magic but Trixie isn’t sure and I don’t CARE, I’ve just GOT to feel her horn-gasm overpowering mine and plunging into me, filling me with magic, and she’s so lonely and sad and I just have to be with her even if it costs my life…”

She trailed off, for Rainbow Dash had squeezed her eyes shut and was pounding the ground with a fore-hoof, and she thought she saw tears in Dash’s eyes. Dash’s face was contorted, teeth gritted, and Lyra considered trying to flee before the reaction passed, but she was too late.

Rainbow Dash’s head snapped up and her gaze was almost reverent.

“Bad… ASS…”

Lyra tried to interpret her expression, brows knit in perplexity. “Does that mean you’ll help me?”

“Oh yeah. Oh yeah! Oh my gosh so awesome! Can I watch? No, never mind, I wouldn’t be allowed to do that. Holy crap, Lyra, really? You’re like gonna go and do crazy unicorn sex with a Princess?”

“I’ve got to,” said Lyra, “there is nothing else for me.”

“Oh my gosh!” squeaked Dash. Her wings were quiveringly erect, and she looked like she was about to get off just hearing the plan.

“What can you do to help, anyway?”

Rainbow pulled herself together, and hastily wiped her chin with the back of a hoof. “Mph! Lots, that’s what. And I’m going to—this is the most bad-ass thing I’ve ever heard of. First of all, you’re dressed all wrong. You need like a ninja-pony suit for sneaking in. You can borrow mine! There’s just extra holes. You know, for wings? And, um, yeah. Right. And…”

Lyra blinked, as Dash dropped her gaze. “And what?”

Rainbow grinned, and her gaze was coy and sidelong. “You can still borrow it. If you’re pony enough… maybe if your unicorny horny-ness is so amazing you won’t mind running around with the crotch ripped out of your ninja suit. Take it or leave it. Or I guess take it and then still take it, know what I mean?”

Lyra squeaked. “The crotch is ripped out?”

“By pony teeth,” smirked Rainbow. “While I was wearing it.”

Lyra struggled to maintain a sexy coolness, as that seemed to be the secret way to impress Rainbow Dash and enlist her support. “I see. I can only hope that I’m as enticing to Princess Luna as you presumably were to Applejack. Hmm?”

Dash was shaking her head, smirking. Lyra lifted an eyebrow. “It wasn’t Applejack, then? It was Pinkie?”

“Nah,” said Dash, her wings proudly erect. “It was me. I ripped the crotch out with my own teeth so that my mate could plunge into me right that instant. Hey, the zipper was stuck, whaddya want from me?” She trembled reminiscently, and added, “And that’s why I’m gonna help you. ‘Cos you’d understand how I felt—and I’m gonna help you get covered, Lyra, we’re getting you laid. We’re getting you PRINCESS laid.”

Lyra’s lip quivered, and she teared up as Rainbow Dash reached awkwardly forward to hug her again.

“Now c’mon. The ninja-suit is back at the house. We can get you in it, and you can sneak into town and get your stuff before dawn if we move it…”

Dawn broke on Fluttershy’s house, and birds chirped curiously as two stealthy figures crept by, one small and one large. The small one levitated a bundle, an elegant saddlebag, and a lyre before her, and wore a black jumpsuit with three extra holes: two for wings she didn’t have, and one for another thing she didn’t have yet, but longed to seek out. The large one carried only a huge, dangling belly full of pony foal.

“I told you,” whispered Rainbow Dash, “we’re taking this route to avoid the main road! You took a big risk coming in that way. Trixie is not exactly subtle. She’s gonna be parading up and down the main road, yelling ‘you shall not pass!’. We’ll skirt around Sweet Apple Acres and you can head back to Fillydelphia, she won’t find you there. Give it a couple days for her to lose interest, sneak back to Ponyville, and throw a rock at my window, okay? Er—Applejack’s window. And, like, a pebble, not literally throw a rock through the window…”

As she said it, the two ponies were creeping under Fluttershy’s window—and the window opened, with a bang. Rainbow and Lyra squealed, clutched each other, and then fled off across Fluttershy’s lawn, over the little bridge and down the lane.

Pinkie stared out the window after them. “Hey, Dashie! Whatcha doin’?” She blinked, watching Lyra’s flight. That was almost certainly Dashie’s little black suit that she liked to wear while cutely stealing things—except somepony had ripped the crotch out, and it was most definitely Lyra’s adorable little vagina flashing in the breeze through the hole in the suit.

Pinkie’s ear flicked, her jaw dropped, and her astonishing tongue hung out and dangled lower and lower as she studied the minty-green tail flying in the breeze, and the once-sampled treasures below it.

Then, it touched something metal and cold, and Pinkie blinked and reeled her tongue in hastily. “Eep! Distracted by pussy!” She considered this, and a smile crept over her face, and she turned away from the opened window that let in breezes over a flowerpot, a screwdriver, and a magic bit that glittered more brightly on the end where the dust no longer settled, but where a bit of pony drool now glistened.

“Oh, Fluttershy? Are you awaaaake sweetie?”

From the bedroom, Fluttershy whined, “No! More sleep! Too early!”

Pinkie Pie smiled, imagining the adorable pout. Several different sorts of adorable pouts, actually—one on the face, one between the legs—and attention to one sort would wipe the other sort off her beloved’s face in the nicest way.

“I’ll make it worth your while!” cooed Pinkie, and stepped demurely up the stairs. Her audience awaited.

Scootaloo was wandering down the lane when she saw something odd—a motion near Fluttershy’s house, as if something had scurried out of sight. That was strange. She wandered closer, but there was no further sign of movement, and yet she had the feeling something was up.

A window was open, but it revealed nothing but the sound of snoring. Scootaloo wasn’t sure what would tire out Pinkie and Fluttershy so bad that they took a nap in mid-morning, but if they were napping and a window was open and something was skulking around the house, it might not be a good thing—so she trotted over the bridge, in expectant silence.

She went to her left, followed by a curious bunny that hopped lazily along after her, and crept around towards the back of the house, but there was no sign of anything there. But what if the thing had simply continued around and was now retreating across the bridge? Scootaloo turned, and trotted back, seeing nothing as the front yard came into view, but feeling a sudden motion behind her…

“HYAH!”

Scootaloo screamed a near-supersonic scream and shrank back against the house, against a windowsill and half embedding herself in some bushes, and stared up at… Trixie Lulamoon, who was brandishing a whip over her head in the firm grip of her magic, and glaring triumphantly down at her.

The triumph was short-lived.

“You! You’re not Lyra!”

Scootaloo trembled, cowering back, shaking her head.

The whip lowered. Trixie glared crankily. “You were supposed to be Lyra! Trixie has been hunting for her all night! Trixie glimpsed a motion on the road, and lurked, preparing her vengeance!”

Scootaloo could only stare in terror, but help was on the way.

“Trixie! There you are!” called Twilight, trotting across the bridge.

“Twilight!” replied Trixie, startled. “I’ve been…”

“No! I know just what you’ve been doing!” said Twilight. Her magic flared, and wrested the long whip from Trixie’s grasp. Scootaloo watched Trixie’s eyes widen, and then the blue unicorn cringed and cowered as Twilight cracked the whip—much less well than Trixie had—and caught her across the rump.

“You can’t take it on yourself to find her! She’s probably halfway to Neighpon by now, Trixie! She’s in fucking Stalliongrad, give it a rest! You’re coming home and going to bed—and I mean sleep—right now! Or I’m gonna give you a new cutie mark made of welts!”

Trixie squealed submissively, as Scootaloo held her frozen pose, reared up against the wall of the house and half-hidden by bushes. Twilight didn’t seem to notice Scootaloo at all. Her attention was on her recalcitrant marefriend.

“Move!”

The whip cracked again, and Trixie jerked and squeaked as it stung her quivering rump—and then she was running back over the bridge, with Twilight chasing her and crying “Hyah!” and cracking the whip after her. They stampeded down the lane into town—and out of sight.

Scootaloo gulped, her eyes still wide in terror, her back still against the wall of the house. Behind her head was empty space, inside the house—and she heard only one snore instead of two. Slowly she turned her head, expecting to see another grumpy adult right there yelling at her, because that would be so perfectly awful. She scrunched her eyes shut, bracing herself against the point-blank yelling she expected…

Pinkie Pie’s voice came from the upstairs bedroom, instead. “Twilight? Was that you?”

Scootaloo opened her eyes.

A slim metal cylinder gleamed before them, reflected in her stunned pupils.

Scootaloo stopped breathing for a moment, and her mind raced as never before…

“Twilight?” called Pinkie. She trotted sleepily downstairs, and looked out the open window. Twilight wasn’t there. Neither was Trixie, whose voice she’d thought she heard—nopony was there at all, but it was definitely noise through that open window that had woken her.

Pinkie hmphed, and seized the window latch in her teeth, closing it and shutting out any further disturbances—and turned to ascend the stairs and rejoin her mate in her nap.

Behind her, a flowerpot and a screwdriver shared the windowsill with an empty space.

“Come on, come on!” begged Scootaloo. “This is the most important thing ever and you totally won’t believe it!”

Apple Bloom’s jaw was set, and she narrowed her eyes as she glared at her friend. On Scootaloo’s other side, Sweetie Belle trotted unsteadily, her eyes a little glazed over.

“And ‘zactly what is that s’posed ta mean?” demanded Apple Bloom. “You breakin’ your word to me?”

“No! I swear I haven’t!”

“In th’ clubhouse, is it?”

“Oh yeah,” said Scootaloo, and ran ahead, clattering up the ramp and vanishing inside.

Apple Bloom stopped at the base of the ramp, and glanced at Sweetie. “I got a bad feelin’ about this…”

“She promised it’s not Applejack’s bit thing,” said Sweetie.

“Why do that not reassure me in th’ least?”

“Come on, let’s see what she’s got.”

They ascended the stairs, and froze.

“Ta-dah!”

It lay on a little cushion, in a sunbeam. Scootaloo stood to the side, grinning madly. Her wings stood up very much.

Apple Bloom took a deep, pissed-off breath.

“Consarn it, Scootaloo! I tole you and I tole you and I tole you, don’t even think about…”

“WAIT!” yelled Scootaloo, as if she’d expected this objection. “Hear me out!”

“You put that thing back right now!”

“It’s not Applejack’s bit, Apple Bloom!” declared Scootaloo.

That stopped the country filly. “Say what now?”

“It’s not Applejack’s. Or Rainbow Dash’s. Or Lyra’s, either.”

Apple Bloom stared at the thing, and gulped. “Wal, then… what is it? It look like one of them things.”

“It’s OURS. I got it from Fluttershy’s house. It was yucky with dust. Now it’s the Cutie Mark Crusader Penis! They don’t want it, remember?”

“Now, you wait a second…”

“Remember?” demanded Scootaloo. “You were right there, you heard her!”

Apple Bloom rallied. “We don’t want it neither! This is bad behavior! Who wants to see a Cutie Mark Crusader Penis?”

Sweetie Belle whimpered, her tail flicking. Apple Bloom gave her a very weary look. “Don’t even say nothin’, you…”

“Well, she does! She needs it, she’s sick!” objected Scootaloo.

“That don’t count as sick! More like some kinda pow’ful new stupid!”

“C’mon, we’ll put it back as soon as we’re done,” wheedled Scootaloo. “How many times have we borrowed stuff like that? Remember making the costumes for our awesome musical comedy routine?”

Hearing this, Sweetie focussed a little. “I remember Rarity being real mad at me because her roll of fabric fell in the water!”

Scootaloo folded her forelegs and glared. “This thing won’t care about falling in water! You can slobber all over it and it won’t care!”

Apple Bloom narrowed her eyes. “But… you ain’t. You’re jes’ leavin’ it set on the cushion. How come you ain’t holdin’ it, Scootaloo?”

“That’s another part of the surprise,” replied Scootaloo, smugly.

“Oh yeah? You playin’ a trick on us, Scootaloo?”

“Try it and find out.”

Apple Bloom glowered. “Nuh-uh! What’s your game?”

“I wanna see what it does to you, that’s what. And then we’ll all be in this together!”

Silence fell, as Apple Bloom and Scootaloo glared at each other. Sweetie gave another little whimper, but they didn’t drop their gaze.

“You’re startin’ to git stinky as well, Scootaloo,” observed Apple Bloom.

“Yeah,” smirked Scootaloo. “I told you that was another part of the surprise…”

“But you ain’t holdin’ th’ bit… it’s a fake! You are just messin’ with my head and insultin’ my sense of loyalty besides!”

“No fake, Apple Bloom. Try it.”

“No deal, Scootaloo! Ya can’t make me! I bet you weren’t even gonna put it back or nothin’!”

Scootaloo yawned, preparing her trap. “Oh, so now it’s real again? Maybe I can’t make you, but you know what you can make yourself, Apple Bloom?”

“What?” demanded Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo caught Sweetie’s eye. Both ponies trembled faintly, but Scootaloo’s smile grew more wicked by the moment.

“Apple Bloom, you can make yourself the new chicken!”

Apple Bloom gasped, and sat back on her butt. “You take that back!”

“Chicken…” Scootaloo glanced at Sweetie.

“Am not! You’re the chicken, Scootaloo!”

“Not any more! Not now that you are so generously being it for me—thank you, Apple Bloom, new chicken! Bok!”

“Bok,” added Sweetie softly.

“It ain’t fair!”

“Bok,” grinned Scootaloo. “B-gok!”

Apple Bloom’s eyes filled with tears even as she glared furiously back and forth between her very best friends. “You’re cheatin’! You can’t make me be the chicken on account of this, that’s cheatin’! It does not count!”

“Oh,” said Scootaloo, “all of a sudden it’s bad to be the chicken? Now you know how I felt! I’ve been, like, really good about it, all this time. But these wings? They’re pegasus wings, Apple Bloom, awesome pegasus wings. You’re the one who’s the chicken.”

Apple Bloom bit her lip, jaw clenched, for a moment.

“WHY are you doin’ this, Scootaloo?”

“Because we’re all in this together. Because Sweetie needs our help with her new grownup vagina. Because we are the Cutie Mark Crusader Baby Makers Project and Sweetie is ready to do her part, and we have the tool we need without taking it from Applejack after all. And because you can either be one of us as an awesome Crusader that dares to do awesome things—or you can be one of us as a chicken.”

Apple Bloom glared, tearful, and Scootaloo added, “It’s okay being a chicken, I promise. We’ll still love you! You have ten seconds to decide what you are. Nine. Eight.”

“It’s prob’ly a big fake!”

“Seven. Six.”

“…does it hurt?”

“Five. Four. Three…”

Apple Bloom lunged forwards, and bit down on the metal cylinder.

Her eyes bugged out, as Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle cheered.

“Yay! Lemme see, lemme see! What did it do?” demanded Scootaloo. “Is it as good as mine?”

Apple Bloom, looking stunned, rolled over on her side, and a pinky-beige noodle flopped into view. It had dangled nearly to the floor, and was pretty bulky, and limp as a wet sock.

“Cool!” said Scootaloo encouragingly.

“Th’s f’ls m’t’y str’nge, Sc’taloo…”

“Hey, I can’t understand you, you have something in your mouth! And something between your legs!”

“It w’s y’r ID’A!” snarled Apple Bloom.

“No, it’s great! Not bad. A little,” and Scootaloo cleared her throat, “wobbly. Though you might not think so now, but you’ll see.”

Sweetie blinked. “She’s not a CHICKEN…”

“D’ng str’ight ‘m n’t!”

“But the penis means she’s a boy,” said Sweetie Belle, “so does that make her… a COCK?”

Scootaloo screamed with laughter and fell over, and Apple Bloom spit the bit out and leapt on her, punching and kicking. “NOT! FUNNY!”

“No, stop,” begged Sweetie, “we’re sorry!”

“AH WILL SLUG YOU TOO!”

“Hey!” yelled Scootaloo, grabbing her friend in a wrestle hold to prevent her also slugging Sweetie. “Hey! You did it.”

Apple Bloom blinked.

“You did it,” repeated Scootaloo. “One of us! You don’t have to be the chicken, you came through with flying colors. And… ow… flying hooves. Thanks for that, Apple Bloom, my chin likes that a lot, every time.”

“Uh… sorry,” said Apple Bloom. She blinked at the bit, lying on the floor. “Dang. I did. I had me a penis an’ everythin’. Hey… if I ain’t no chicken, then does that mean you’re still our chicken?”

Scootaloo smirked. “Not for long. You’re gonna love this…”

“And you are just about as stinky as Sweetie Belle, just so’s you know. Mighta not noticed, that’s what friends are for…”

Scootaloo ignored her. She walked over to the bit with ceremony. Apple Bloom blinked, as Scootaloo’s little vagina had gone glisteny like Sweetie’s, and it twitched out in a freaky way as well, just for a moment. Scootaloo ignored that too, though she had to have felt it.

“Never mind the chicken, ladies,” said Scootaloo, “introducing—THE COCK!”

She bit down on the metal cylinder and promptly rolled onto her back as much as her shudderingly erect wings would allow, and Sweetie Belle swooned and fell over in a heap.

Scootaloo grinned like she’d pulled off the most amazing trick in the world, revelling in Apple Bloom’s and Sweetie’s stares. That russet-to-magenta penis was transformed. It had been a dangling, flopping thing, but this time it appeared carved from marble, glossy with aching, youthful hardness, surprisingly big—easily as big as the limp mass Apple Bloom had produced, but poking up stiffly and bobbing very slightly with Scootaloo’s heartbeat.

“Ch’ck… it… OUT!”

Apple Bloom gulped and inched nearer, her eyes wide. Scootaloo grinned insolently as Apple Bloom’s nose got nearer and nearer to the thing, as Apple Bloom raised a foreleg and sniffed the air…

“OW!”

Apple Bloom had whacked it with her hoof.

“W’DYA DO TH’T F’R?”

Apple Bloom was giggling. “To see if that there would happen! Thankee kindly!”

“YOU P’NCH EV’RYTH’NG!”

“Everything worth a-punchin’!” laughed Apple Bloom. “After all th’ times I done punched our Crusader chicken, did ya think I could resist punchin’ a cock?”

Sweetie was giggling madly. Scootaloo glared, but her grin couldn’t be repressed, and then she was laughing through her clenched teeth, and had got up and was frisking around with her friends in an outburst of relieved tension, playfully jumping up and grabbing their rumps.

“Whoa, hey!” protested Apple Bloom. “Whatcha doin’ that for?”

“We al’wys wr’stle!” grinned Scootaloo.

“Yeah but it feels like not the same! Maybe it escaped your memory but y’all packin’ a new toy there, and I ain’t ready to play them games! I ain’t stinky like you, missy!”

“W’ll, wh’t ab’t Sw’tie B’lle?” mumbled Scootaloo.

They looked over, to see Sweetie Belle standing and not frolicking at all.

Her rear hooves were set apart, and she looked panicked, panting, her eyes frantic with excitement and alarm.

“Hey, uh, ya alright there Sweetie Belle?” said Apple Bloom uncertainly.

Sweetie couldn’t answer. The sight of Scootaloo mounting onto Apple Bloom had hit her good and hard, and her legs wobbled and threatened to give way. Apple Bloom wandered over, and recoiled.

“Dang, Sweetie, y’all gone positively thunder-stinky!”

Scootaloo caught the scent, and stiffened. She sauntered over to Sweetie, erection swinging rigidly beneath her. “I’ll h’ndle th’s, m’m. H’lo, l’vely l’dy, h’ws ab’ut living h’re often?”

Sweetie’s stunned look was disrupted for a moment as she tried to parse that sentence. “How’s about living here often? That doesn’t even make sense!”

“I h’rd s’mepony s’y it in a b’r!”

“You’re not even allowed to go in bars!” objected Apple Bloom.

“So?” challenged Scootaloo, trotting in place, penis bouncing stiffly under her. It slapped her belly, and her eyes widened for a moment. “W’oah!”

“What happened?” asked Apple Bloom.

“I’m n’t sure but it f’lt am’zing! I’m g’nna do it ag’n…”

Sweetie Belle squealed shrilly, and the other two froze. “Sweetie?” said Apple Bloom.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stand!” squeaked Sweetie. “How am I supposed to stand, how do we do this, is it gonna hurt?”

Apple Bloom glanced at Scootaloo, who wrinkled her brow in an expression of concern.

“Well now, happens that maybe we don’t have to do nothin’…”

Sweetie squealed again, and Apple Bloom winced. “Ow. Y’all takin’ this a mite too serious-like…”

“I kn’w wh’t to do! I th’nk!” said Scootaloo. “I h’ve to lay h’r to w’ste, l’ke Rainb’w D’sh!”

“An’ what’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Apple Bloom, and turned to Sweetie, who’d taken a deep breath. “No! No more high pitch screamin’!”

Sweetie made a feeble squeaking noise, her eyes crossing.

Apple Bloom glared back and forth between her maddened, frantic friends. “Y’all got no idea what you’re doin’, do ya? NO idea!”

Sweetie began to cry, her hindlegs shaking and her little vagina winking with hysterical rapidity. Scootaloo glared back at Apple Bloom and said, “D’nt st’nd in the w’y of the awes’meness!”

“Do ah have to fix everything? Fine, let’s do this an’ then we are puttin’ this thing back where it come from and goin’ out for ice cream! ‘Cos you are creepin’ me out, you guys! Scootaloo! Jump up on Sweetie there!”

Scootaloo didn’t need any more encouragement. Snorting with eagerness, she reared with madly flapping wings and grabbed onto Sweetie’s trembling rump.

Sweetie gave a little shriek, began to pant and jump around and toss her head, and then before Scootaloo could do anything, Sweetie’s hind legs flashed out in a kick that caught Scootaloo in the belly and sent her tumbling, bit still clenched in teeth, stiffened cock jutting into the air.

“H’Y! WH’T W’S TH’T F’R?”

“Whoa there, Sweetie! Changed your mind?”

Sweetie shook her head frantically. Her vagina winked harder and dripped lube onto the floor. She squealed earsplittingly for just a moment, caught herself, and emitted a strangled squeak as she repressed it.

Apple Bloom looked stunned. “Well all righty then… aw sweet Celestia preserve us, this is a pickle an’ no mistake. Sweetie! Lay down, so you can’t kick none, we’ll try it that way! Whoa, Scootaloo, whoa!”

Scootaloo had bounced to her hooves, and fire was in her eyes as she tried to mount Sweetie’s shaking body again. Apple Bloom threw forelegs around her and dragged her off. “No! Let her git fixed for it first!”

While Scootaloo paced hectically, chin high and haughty, Apple Bloom turned to Sweetie again. “Lay down, sugar, you jes lay down real nice an… aw, th’ heck with it,” she said, and bodychecked Sweetie instead. The white unicorn filly went over with a shriek, her balance affected by the hormones that rendered her dizzy and crazed with desire. She struggled to get up, but Apple Bloom was already hugging her and holding her steady.

“That’s it, we got this, Crusaders kin do anythin’ if we do it together… Scootaloo! Y’all move in now. I reckon you stick the dick in that crazy flappin’ flower! Go easy, I dunno if th’ goo is slippery or more sticky, your thing done looked pretty dry…”

Scootaloo bent down to eyeball Sweetie’s vagina, which was awash with ooze, and her wings stood bolt upright and vibrated. She made a croaking noise and clambered onto Sweetie, who shoved her butt up against Scootaloo’s belly with a squeal…

“Whoa, whoa!” screamed Apple Bloom. “Y’all fixin’ to go in th’ wrong place!”

Scootaloo’s cock was ramming Sweetie’s butt-cheek, alarmingly high up, and had thumped her between vagina and anus. Apple Bloom blanched, and frantically reached out with a forehoof to try and guide her best friend, who normally wasn’t… who normally wasn’t AS MUCH OF a slavering idiot-beast, into her other best friend, who normally wasn’t as much of a shrieking pile of hysteria.

Her hoof directed the cock, as Scootaloo’s hips thrust hungrily, and just as she drew in a breath to yell at Scootaloo to go slow… it was too late for the warning.

Scootaloo’s cock rammed aggressively against Sweetie’s vagina, and with a dreadful wet squelch, it squeezed right into her and kept going right up to the medial ring—and Sweetie let out a single guttural shriek like Apple Bloom had never heard. It was weird, because it sounded painful, but at the same time it totally sounded like the terrible, incomprehensible seriousness of the grown-ups doing it.

Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped for a moment, as she watched Scootaloo hunching her hips and watched that cock shoving deeper and deeper into Sweetie, bulging her vagina out to the sides around it, glistening with her juices. Apple Bloom gulped, awed, watching Sweetie’s body clench onto the thing in great heaving clenches—and then realized that Sweetie had stopped shrieking, and panicked.

“Oh rotten apples…”

She scrambled clear and rushed around to the front so she could see Sweetie Belle’s face. Sweetie’s tongue lolled, and she was drooling and her eyes looked dazed, but they moved and met Apple Bloom’s.

“Aw, hell, Sweetie, you okay?”

Sweetie’s eyes kept going out of focus. “Ohhhh… yes, oh yes, YESSSS…” She seemed utterly possessed by the experience, barely able to pay attention to Apple Bloom right in front of her face while Scootaloo’s cock thumped her cervix and jolted her, shoving her small body forwards a bit with each thrust.

Apple Bloom sat back on her haunches, out of her depth. “Wal, shit! Sorry… I mean, uh… ya likin’ it, huh?”

“Agggg…” drooled Sweetie Belle. From behind her came squelching noises, and whimpers from Scootaloo, as if Sweetie’s slipperiness was nevertheless eye-poppingly tight.

“Oh my goodness,” breathed Apple Bloom. “Uhhh… I reckon maybe I’ll be goin’, seem like y’all fixed for now…”

Sweetie fought her way back from what seemed mind-melting realms of raw sensation. “Noooo! You need to uhhh! do the thing!”

“Whut THANG?”

Sweetie tried to fix Apple Bloom with a stare, though she was reeling from Scootaloo’s increasingly eager motions inside her. “Like Rarity said! Um I mean ngaaah! Rainbow! Dash!”

Scootaloo snarled exultantly through her bit, “I’M l’ke Rainb’w D’sh! L’yin it d’wn! Rrrrh!”

Apple Bloom trotted in place, fretfully. “Whaddya mean?”

“Th’s! ‘s! so! ‘wesome!” squeaked Scootaloo, bucking her hips into unicorn vagina.

“Not you! Sweetie, what?”

Sweetie’s eyes rolled back in her head and her horn glittered. “Nnnhhh! You haveto! Bite her wing! Like we aaahhh! saw Applejack do! Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ahh, ahhhh!”

Apple Bloom gulped. “Aw, ya got to be kiddin’…”

“Do it!” moaned Sweetie, as Scootaloo’s hard cock plunged deep into her slippery tautness. “You have to! Or it’s wasted, no babies!”

Scootaloo slowed up, and looked concerned. “Wait, wh’t?”

“Well… all right…” said Apple Bloom.

She moved in behind Scootaloo, who still thrust into her liquified friend, but looked around fretfully and said “H’y! Y’re n’t s’posed to…”

“It’s only fair,” said Apple Bloom. “Sweetie did what you wanted. Ain’t like I haven’t grabbed your wing before, Scootaloo!”

Scootaloo’s eyes were wide and alarmed. “B’t… th’y feel so weird…”

Her wings were bolt upright, quivering, the feathers bristling out in a way Apple Bloom had never seen. Her hips couldn’t seem to stop moving, and Apple Bloom heard Sweetie moaning louder and louder and took a moment to look at the disaster area between Sweetie’s legs, marvelling at the outlandish sight. It was the same cute unicorn filly bottom as ever, the same pert vagina, but it seemed so different bulged out to the sides around a big penis. It tried to wink even though it was stuffed to bursting, and Sweetie’s muscles kept tensing, clutching at it in an eerie way like her body just grabbed the thing in fits without asking. From the sound of it, Sweetie Belle was past talking coherently. She’d gone to a place the country filly couldn’t understand. She sounded like Rainbow Dash that one time—something in her wails and moans resonated. Every thrust sunk her deeper into that state.

Apple Bloom wrinkled her nose at the ooze and glistening mess and stinky grownup scents that nearly took her head off with their intensity. She sighed. So nasty. It prob’ly would come and get her too, in the end.

But for now, she was damned if she was gonna let Scootaloo make a whole baby-makin’ plan, get them in trouble, make this big a mess, and not follow through.

She rose up, and looked Scootaloo in the eye. “Don’t be a chicken, this was your dang idea an’ you know it. Anyway, Rainbow Dash carried on somethin’ fierce from doin’ this. Hol’ still!”

Scootaloo couldn’t stop the hunching of her hips—and couldn’t move her wings, for they were so erect they were frozen in place. She just bared her teeth around the bit and her eyes went very wide as, in seeming slow motion, her bestest friend’s mouth opened, came forward, and closed upon…

Apple Bloom had never seen the like, even from the grown-ups.

Scootaloo’s wing shank was hot like a fever, but Apple Bloom barely registered that before the shrieks just about ripped her ear off. Scootaloo’s little body went stiff as a board, and then thrashed, her head bucking in violent spasms, cock throbbing hugely and spurting into Sweetie Belle, who ripped Apple Bloom’s other ear off with one of her supersonic shrieks that just went on and on agonisingly—and then, before Apple Bloom’s eyes, Sweetie’s horn flared and spurted a stream of raw magic all over the wall, where it splashed and left smoldering marks and set fire to a Rainbow Dash poster Scootaloo had put up. It bounced back and splashed onto the Crusaders, and Apple Bloom screamed and let go of Scootaloo’s wing, scrambling back. Scootaloo was screaming too, tears in her eyes, but it didn’t seem to be about the magic burning her, it sounded like the grownups again, like she was being wracked by something too big and overwhelming for her little body, and for a moment Apple Bloom could only look at her two friends locked in that obscene, carnal pose, horrifyingly adult passions transforming them into ponies she’d never seen before…

Sweetie’s horn stopped spurting, and her head dropped. As it did, Scootaloo flung the bit violently to the side, making it bounce off the wall even as the last ashes of her poster fell to the floor. Sweetie sprawled bonelessly as the penis yanked out of her and vanished away—and Scootaloo tried to lunge at Apple Bloom, murder in her eyes, but fell flat on her face, so wrung out she couldn’t walk, her cheek smushed against the wood floorboards of the clubhouse.

“I hate you, I hate you!” she sobbed. “Never, never… Rainbow Dash said to never…”

Sweetie wriggled feebly, and then called out from where she was spread like a puddle on the floor. “No, Scootaloo!”

Scootaloo stopped trying to drag herself towards Apple Bloom’s throat, and listened.

“She had to… do that to… make a baby… remember?” managed Sweetie. Her whole body was quivering and limp, and she couldn’t even lift her head.

Apple Bloom stared at her friends. “Are you guys… all right? Dang…”

Sweetie Belle’s smile, even though it was pressed against the floor, was radiant. “Oooooh…”

Scootaloo was far from all right. Her face twisted as she said, “Why’d you have to… why? It was so good… then way way too much… and I promised I wouldn’t, I promised, I… haaaaaaah!” She began to bawl, unable to rise.

Apple Bloom chewed her lip in dismay, and then rushed forward to hug Scootaloo—though she took pains to not touch her wings, unsure whether they’d been left painful to touch. They sure looked like wrecks, there was no question about that. She hugged Scootaloo close.

“Y’all can just kill me a lil’ bit then, ‘cos then I got to get both of you safely home an’ cleaned up to boot…”

Scootaloo sobbed miserably, not even trying to fight, and Sweetie Belle began determinedly trying to crawl across the floor. Her hind legs were still quivering puddles, but she dragged herself with her forehooves and reached out to Scootaloo as well. “You did it!”

Scootaloo sniffled, looking tragic, and allowed Sweetie to join the hug—Apple Bloom gathered her in as well. Sweetie still had that dazed, satiated look, and Apple Bloom wondered if it’d ever wear off—and what it took to end up looking like that. It was dauntingly creepy and fascinating all at the same time.

“You were my wonderful stallion,” said Sweetie Belle earnestly. “And you did everything right, we did everything they said. We’re going to have baby foals!”

Apple Bloom blinked in astonishment. “Whut, ALL of us?”

Sweetie shook her head weakly, and nuzzled away one of Scootaloo’s tears. “No, just me. I think. Unless what Pinkie Pie said, means that Scootaloo is going to have foals too?”

Scootaloo’s eyes widened. “Oh, no way. No way…”

“Ah don’t think so, Sweetie,” said Apple Bloom thoughtfully. “I reckon it’s them what gets poked in, gets th’ foal. That would be you, in a big way. Dang, Scootaloo, you do lay it down, don’t ya? Is that what layin’ it down is?”

Scootaloo’s lip quivered, and she looked tragic. She glanced at where her Rainbow Dash poster had been, and she teared up again. “I… guess.”

“Our foal is going to be beautiful,” crooned Sweetie Belle.

“What’ll we call it?” said Apple Bloom. “For that matter, what’s it gonna look like?”

Scootaloo gulped, and put on a determined look. “Crusader! Duh!”

“I’m a unicorn girl,” said Sweetie. “It will be a beautiful unicorn foal.”

Scootaloo wiped her nose, and objected. “I’m totally a pegasus! I would make a pegasus from sex, what else?”

Apple Bloom scratched her head. “Gosh. That would be useful, havin’ another pegasus around. It kin carry stuff, hammer in nails too high for me to reach…”

Sweetie glared at her. “It’s a unicorn! I’ll share my milkshakes with her and let her drink as much as she wants, even if it’s more than half, without complaining. Though as a responsible mommy unicorn I have to warn her you can get brain freezys from drinking too much ice cream too quick.”

Apple Bloom nodded uncertainly. Something seemed funny about the idea of feeding a baby milkshakes, though it seemed logical enough. “Wal, it’s both of you made th’ baby. Maybe it’s a unicornasus?”

Scootaloo scoffed. “Wings come first! Call it a pegacorn.”

“Or…” said Sweetie Belle, and her eyes widened. Then, the others’ eyes did likewise.

“Oh, horse-apples,” said Apple Bloom, weakly. “We done made us a Princess Celestia inside Sweetie Belle. We are gonna be in so much trouble…”

Absolution

“You put it back, right Scootaloo?” said Apple Bloom.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Ya SURE?”

“Look, I put it back, okay? Sheesh!” said Scootaloo, as they trotted through the grass, skirting the stream that ran around town. The objective was ice cream, to celebrate making their new foal, and the path was around town and not through it, so they could enjoy (and snack on) the grass under their youthful hooves. Also, Scootaloo didn’t seem to want to go into town, for some reason.

Apple Bloom stared hard at her bestest friend, but the little pegasus’s affronted look didn’t seem too over-the-top and stagey. Scootaloo was probably telling the truth.

Apple Bloom turned to her other bestest friend. “That’s okay with you, Sweetie Belle? I know it was partly your idea an’ all. I jes’ feel it’s gone far enough…”

Sweetie trotted along serenely. “Yes, Apple Bloom. I feel much better now! And I’m so excited to have Crusader. It’s going to be so wonderful and adorable and cute!”

Apple Bloom made a face. “Uhhh… back before all this here was a thing, I saw my big sister a-running toward the pig pens. See, Daisy Mae was a-poppin’ out piglets right an’ left.”

Sweetie squealed in delight. “I saw piglets on your farm! They were super cute!”

Apple Bloom winced. “Um, well, this weren’t cute, exactly. Though it ain’t like they were that big or nothin’. It’s jes’ got me wonderin’ about all this, is all.”

“Wondering what?”

“Wonderin’ whether we should be askin’ the grownups for help,” said Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo broke in. “No! I did what you asked, I put the thing back. You gotta keep this secret Crusader business! If you go and tell Rainbow Dash…”

Sweetie added, “Besides, we’re not supposed to get help from grownups. Rarity said so! Grownups mustn’t help you with sex feelings. She was very fierce about it, so it must be super duper important!”

Scootaloo couldn’t leave it at that. “Just don’t, okay? Just don’t! Swear to me you won’t tell anypony, especially Rainbow Dash?”

Apple Bloom looked at her. “Awww… I’m sorry, Scootaloo. I know y’all got a mite upset with me. Uh… iffen it helps any, them wings of yours is real pretty and felt nice to munch on, I reckon boy pegasuses will jes’ love ‘em…”

At the mention, Scootaloo’s wings sprang up, violently erect and trembling. She glared at Apple Bloom. “Gee, thanks ever so much. Can you not talk about that ‘cause it feels really weird? And I didn’t hear you swear not to tell Rainbow Dash!”

Apple Bloom sighed in exasperation. “Fine! I promise not to tell R… eep!”

Scootaloo squeaked and tried to hide behind, then under, Sweetie Belle. As they’d approached Sweet Apple Acres, suddenly they weren’t alone—Lyra and Rainbow Dash had trotted briskly into view, engaged in an animated conversation.

“Yeah, I understand it’s scary,” said Rainbow, “but I still say it’s awesome. I’ll come along with you the whole way but you should go and talk to her alone. And hey—I want you to know I like you even better for wanting to do this. It’s just the pony thing to do, so don’t be too scared. I promise, Rarity’s nuts but she’s good at heart, she’ll hear you out… oh, hey kids!”

Lyra glanced at the three fillies, and raised a forehoof, shying away nervously at their odd behavior. Apple Bloom was grinning an excessive, ingratiating grin, and Sweetie exuded an aura of sensual bliss while Scootaloo attempted to hide under her, filly pegasus head lifting Sweetie’s hindquarters bodily, filly pegasus wings standing bolt upright and ruining her attempt to hide herself.

Rainbow Dash stared at this display in astonishment, then laughed raucously.

“Hey, sport! I think just maybe you’re a little TOO much like me! Take it easy, okay? No hurry!”

Scootaloo yanked her head out from under Sweetie’s rump, and Sweetie sat heavily on the grass with a quiver and a tongue-loll as Scootaloo stared wide-eyed at her idol.

Rainbow Dash grinned. “You guys! Stay outta trouble, okay?” She resumed her progress, trotting over the bridge into town as Lyra listened intently to her advice. “Now, the thing we gotta make sure of is that Trixie isn’t hanging out with Rarity, because from what you tell me, Trixie’s on a real tear. Your apology should help, but you know she’s gonna need time to cool off, right? Take it from me, I’m kinda that way too. The best thing you can do for Trixie is give her some space and help to fix the problems that made her mad at you…”

They disappeared over the bridge, and the Crusaders stared after them.

“Aw, shoot!” said Apple Bloom. “Now I wanna ask Rainbow Dash’s advice even more! Or my big sister—Applejack always knows the right thing ta do.”

“Nooo!” begged Scootaloo, glancing fretfully toward the bridge. “You can’t! It’s your fault anyway I did such a bad thing, I didn’t save my wings, Rainbow Dash can never know that I didn’t live up to what she wanted!”

Apple Bloom pouted. “I said I was sorry, okay? Consarn it. Fine, we won’t never tell nopony ever. Did it at least feel real good when I did it? Sounds like it’s s’posed to feel all kinds ‘a special.”

Scootaloo didn’t answer for a moment. She stared off into space, her eyes going a little bit dreamy and haunted as she thought back on her experiences. She shivered, and bit her lip.

“Oh yeah. Yeah.”

“Scootaloo?” said Apple Bloom. “Y’all just went a mite thunder-stinky on us. Jes so’s you know.”

She jumped back, for Scootaloo was suddenly in her face, glaring, saying “So what? Big deal, okay? I can handle it. Don’t touch me there any more! I’m gonna live up to what Rainbow Dash wanted me to do. I think I understand what she meant better now. Just don’t ever tell anypony, okay? Don’t ever tell!”

At this, Sweetie’s look of bliss wavered, as if she’d got an inkling of possible downsides to her sensual indulgences. She looked worriedly at Scootaloo. “We promise! It’ll be okay… can we go and get our ice cream now? Is this why you didn’t want to go into town?”

Scootaloo drooped. “Yeah. I’m scared ponies will guess what I did. I mean, what Apple Bloom did TO me.” She glared at her friend again.

Apple Bloom gave her the level gaze of a filly who wasn’t yet rocked by hormones. “You know full well that it’s you two who cooked all this up in th’ first place. If y’all want to have fun in gross, oozy, creepy, stinky ways then so be it, but don’t you go blamin’ it on me now, I am jes’ tryin’ to keep up with y’alls needs. Hear me?”

Scootaloo stuck out her lower lip in an outrageous pout, which made Sweetie quiver and gasp for some reason, and she said “Fine. Thanks for bearing with us, Apple Bloom. And promise you won’t…”

“Ah PROMISE!” said Apple Bloom. “Come on, let’s get our dang ice cream! My sakes, you guys. Can’t you make foals in a cheerful an’ nice way?”

“Ssshh!” demanded Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom and Sweetie were silent.

Rainbow trotted along, her huge belly dangling nearly to the ground. Lyra gave it a curious look. “Should you be helping me like this? Forgive me for saying it but you’re really, really pregnant.”

Dash scoffed. “I’m keeping in great shape! Well… considering Spy here, anyway! Don’t worry about it. I want to help you. We’re almost there. Actually, maybe I should go first, because Rarity’s so good at throwing fits and I might be able to soften her up, warn her, you know?”

“I thought you wanted me to talk to her alone?” said Lyra.

“I do!” insisted Dash. “You should! Thing is, though, we don’t know if she’s alone. If she’s hanging out with Trixie and Tw…”

Lyra had frozen in the street, refusing to go on. Dash laughed. “Exactly! Oh, settle down. I’ll protect you.”

“Sorry,” said Lyra. “I can’t sleep worth a damn lately, and I’m all jittery.”

“The fact that you’re trying to make things right, that should help, okay?” said Rainbow. “Sheesh. If you’re so scared to face Rarity, maybe I should just take you home for Applejack to play with!”

Lyra gulped. “Do you think that would be a good idea?”

Dash didn’t respond right away. She, in turn, stopped to look Lyra over from head to hoof, as if for the first time—her ruby eyes taking in the taut quivering flanks, elegant slim legs, the tidy waist so unlike Dash’s pregnant bulk—sides swelling as Lyra drew a deep breath, minty-white tail flicking with fitful energy over that dainty vagina, and those eyes, those gleaming golden eyes so full of life and so brimming with essence of unicorn crazy.

Dash’s gaze dropped, and she thought of herself, once so athletic and toned, now freakishly inflated through carrying Applejack’s foal, bloating out and bulging with new muscle from her determination to stay mobile and active.

“No… no, it really wouldn’t be a good idea at all,” said Dash. “So come on, seriously. Let’s straighten out your situation a little.” She set off again, thinking: and keep your damned pretty tail out of my situation! Dash marvelled a little at her change in attitude. It wasn’t really that much of a change, though—it felt more like a tactical maneuver. Lyra always had boasted a rather Dash-ly body, perhaps from all the nervous energy. Rainbow found herself determined to keep that hot body clear of Applejack until she could compete on an equal footing again.

Applejack probably had all sorts of notions about faithfulness, thought Rainbow, but that was her nature. Dash, in turn, had very specific notions about a hot lay and a smokin’ pony body, and Lyra was all of that, always had been. She hastened her lumbering trot, leading the reluctant Lyra towards Carousel Boutique and away from the distant Sweet Apple Acres. If Applejack had taught her anything, it was prudence.

It seemed quiet enough at the Carousel Boutique—too quiet. There was no sign of Trixie—but there was no sign of customers, either. Rainbow Dash tried the door, and it opened, but nopony was inside.

“Rarity?”

No reply.

“Maybe she’s shut up in the inner sanctum? It’s a thing she has, a room in there…” said Lyra.

“What, you mean past that open door?”

The sanctum was indeed open, as if Rarity had forgot to shut it while departing in haste. Rainbow called again. “Rarity?” Nothing.

“Oh, what do we do?” squeaked Lyra, trotting in place, her tail flicking about agitatedly.

“Does she usually leave that open?” asked Dash. “Because I haven’t seen it like that very often…”

“No!”

“Huh,” said Dash. “Closed the place, ran off to do something—shopping, maybe? She can’t have gone far.” She set her jaw. “You wait here, in case she comes back! Got it? I’m going to go look around, see if I can scare her up for ya. Least I can do.”

She thought again about Lyra sashaying down to Sweet Apple Acres, parting her labia for Applejack’s iron pony phallus.

“You stay here! I’ll go get Rarity, right away, okay? Don’t leave!”

“Okay…” said Lyra, uncertainly, and Dash thundered off like a wrecking ball with pony hooves.

Trixie Lulamoon pouted, glancing sidelong at Twilight. She sat on the floor of the library, petulantly.

Twilight gave her a sharp look, and returned her attention to Rarity. “Yes! An intervention is exactly what it’s like. I think we can be pretty sure she’s still carrying that bit with her everywhere she goes. It’s affecting her mind—I slept near mine for weeks and got very worked up sexually, but even I didn’t wear it every waking minute!”

“Trixie wishes just five minutes with her!” said Trixie passionately. “Just five minutes…”

“Stop it!” snapped Twilight. “Just you, her—and that whip? Is that it?”

Trixie pouted again, sullenly. She seemed haggard, like she hadn’t been getting decent sleep for a while, and it only intensified the wild, dangerous look she’d picked up.

“You’re being awful!” said Twilight. “This is not very Ponyville! I’m not having you flogging her in the streets. What the heck is your deal? I just want to take that bit back so she can feel better!”

“She can feel my lash, better…” snarled Trixie.

“That’s enough!” insisted Twilight. “Upstairs! No more backtalk, you’re not contributing anything useful to this discussion, this is Ponyville business and the way you’re talking is just not how this town is supposed to be! Go on, go upstairs! You are grounded twice!”

“Fine!” wailed Trixie, and galloped up the stairs, to flump into Twilight’s bed.

“I’m sorry about that, Rarity, I thought she’d actually be useful,” said Twilight. “I don’t know what’s got into her, I’ve never seen her like this.”

“I think I understand,” said Rarity thoughtfully. “Twilight dear, Trixie considers me under her protection. I am her submissive, and yours—and it has offended her to the core that Lyra took me inappropriately.”

“I’d still like an explanation of what upset you, Rarity,” said Twilight. “I’ve decided it must be something to do with arcing, because you get uncomfortable around it. Did you have a bad experience with arcing at some point?”

Rarity’s smile shone out brilliantly, as if one could reflect inconvenient questions off it. “Darling! What ever would give you that idea?”

“Watching you fuck? Paying attention?” retorted Twilight.

“Ahaha! But you have known me for some time—and now, you have known me in a more intimate manner—and surely you’ll allow me the freedom to resort to my fainting couch? On just a mere random whim, for no reason? Must I prove cause? How uncourteous!” Rarity’s smile was tense, but very convincing, by necessity.

“Me, uncourteous?” squeaked Twilight. “Have some sense of proportion! Lyra jumped on you in front of your customers, fucked you silly, and came in you so hard you fell down and cried, and I’m the uncourteous one?”

“Ha!” came a mournful cry from upstairs.

“Shush!” yelled Twilight. “Mares are talking!”

Rarity’s smile did not waver. “Which returns us to our original intention—reclaiming the magic bit from her, so she can regain some stability and make more sensible decisions about things. No? Twilight, you know that is what’s really important. I’m really worried about Lyra’s place in Ponyville, now that she’s left Bon Bon and is running so wild. Please, do not wander off into things that don’t matter! We’re here to help Lyra, who is ill and not herself.”

Twilight looked suspicious. “I don’t know—even back when she was with Bon Bon and only Bon Bon, there was something about her. Bon Bon dumped her, too—you got that backwards. Maybe this is how she’s always been?”

“Then,” replied Rarity, “it falls to us to help her grow and learn to be a better pony. So she can find a place within our community. Correct?”

Twilight sulked for a moment, then said, “We’ll have to do it without Trixie. She’s way too into this, behaving terribly.”

“Is she spending too much time in proximity to your own bit, Twilight?”

Twilight shook her head. “No, I’m certain of it. She passed by it when I sent her upstairs—I’m keeping it on a bookshelf by the stairs, it’s not even in our bedroom at all anymore. Twenty feet at least—shouldn’t that be enough?”

Rarity nodded. “From my sense of the things, yes, that should be more than enough. Did you say she was grounded, twice?”

Twilight nodded. “I caught her lurking around Fluttershy’s place, with a big whip, right out in public. I can’t have that, you know I can’t. Trixie is absolutely required to not go and hunt Lyra any more, period, and she’s not happy about it.”

“I gathered,” said Rarity. “But, ‘grounded’?”

“Rarity, I told her directly to leave Lyra alone, that we’d go talk to her later. Miss Lulamoon didn’t want to wait until later. I also wouldn’t have brought along the whip. Yeah, she’s grounded. I expect her not to run off like some loose cannon renegade pony. Right, Trixie?” she called.

There was a sullen silence.

“I said, right, Trixie?”

Or, perhaps, an empty silence.

Twilight blanched, and charged up the stairs to her bedroom, Rarity behind her, and saw the curtains blowing in a chilly Spring breeze, an open window, and no Trixie Lulamoon.

The ice cream store mocked the Cutie Mark Crusaders with its offensive, gratituous closedness.

“Now what the hay would they go an’ do a thing like that fer?” sputtered Apple Bloom, outraged.

“Ohh!” wailed Sweetie Belle. “I need ice cream! I am eating ice cream for two now, I’ve gotta have some ice cream right away!”

Scootaloo reared, kicking the air, determination in her eye. “We’ll go to Sugarcube Corner! Sweetie Belle, do you think you can survive on fudge and possibly cookies?”

Sweetie gulped bravely. “Maybe… yes, dear Scootaloo, I can but try. Sustain me on fudge and cookies!”

Apple Bloom stared at her friends, her ears quirked to the sides. “Have y’all lost your damn minds? Nah, let me re-phrase that: have y’all lost the rest of your damn minds?”

“Scootaloo will protect me,” said Sweetie Belle. “She is the daddy, since I am the mommy.”

“And what do that make me then?” demanded Apple Bloom.

“Fudge-less?” suggested Scootaloo, which got her a bonk on the head for her trouble. “Ow!”

“You can help us plan for the baby!” said Sweetie Belle. “We’re going to need to build a crib in the clubhouse.”

Apple Bloom brightened. “Ah kin do that! We’ll make all sorts o’ things. Toys!”

“Yeah!” said Scootaloo. “And we’ll take the baby to school with us!”

“Naw,” said Apple Bloom. “Heck no—we’ll make our own school!”

Sweetie squealed with delight. “Wow! Cutie Mark Crusader Schoolteachers! We could make a teeny tiny adorable little chair for a baby pony to sit on!”

“An’ I kin make us a blackboard to write stuff on!” cried Apple Bloom.

“And I’ll steal us some chalk!” said Scootaloo. She spotted Apple Bloom’s horrified look, and corrected herself hastily. “I mean, buy it! That’s totally what I meant to say, okay?”

“Dang right,” said Apple Bloom. “We gotta be on th’ up and up, we’re gonna go through lots of chalk! That blackboard will get a workout, boy howdy! We’ll start by writin’ her—or his—name: Crusader!”

“And then we’ll teach him other words—he’ll learn how to spell!” crowed Scootaloo with glee.

“An’ do math!” added Apple Bloom.

“And raise the sun!” said Sweetie Belle.

Apple Bloom and Scootaloo stared at each other, speechless for a moment. Then they stared at Sweetie Belle, with even more amazement. “What?” they said.

Sweetie blinked happily back at them. “Well, remember it’s a unipegacornasus? Like Princess Celestia. Oooh! I have to make princessy robes for her. We’re having a special princess. And so we have to teach her how to raise the sun.” She batted her eyelashes again, adorably, secure in her logic.

Scootaloo and Apple Bloom exchanged another meaningful glance, and Apple Bloom said, “Uhh… Sweetie Belle, we don’t know how ta raise th’ sun.”

“How hard can it be?”

Country filly and tomboy pegasus shared yet another unspoken gaze. This time, it was Scootaloo who dared answer, with unaccustomed gentleness. “Why don’t you try it and find out?”

Sweetie plopped down on the grass and squinted up at the sun, concentrating, and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo held their breath, fascinated and half believing it would be that simple. Sweetie struggled, and then let out a satisfied little sigh. “There! Did it move?”

“Nope,” said Apple Bloom.

Sweetie pouted. “Darn it! Maybe after I have some fudge?”

Apple Bloom looked worriedly at Scootaloo, who gulped and spoke tactfully.

“I’m not sure fudge is gonna help us here…”

“Ssh!” said Apple Bloom. “Stop talkin’ about it, there’s Rainbow Dash again!”

Dash was panting, trotting heavily along while looking every which way. “Rarity?” she called, as the Crusaders watched, and then she froze, staring off into the distance, seemingly horrified. The three fillies followed her gaze but saw nothing but a flash of blue and a swirl of cape in the distance—Trixie Lulamoon, who was a familiar sight around town lately.

Scootaloo alone cringed to see her, because the memory of Trixie brandishing a whip was fresh—she hadn’t told the others about that part, because it quickly paled in importance to her discovery of the unattended magic bit on Fluttershy’s windowsill.

Dash did more than cringe. She squeaked, “Oh horseapples!” and took off at a thunderous run, back where she’d come from, though Trixie wasn’t actually heading that direction.

Sweetie Belle blinked in puzzlement. Now that the fillies weren’t talking, it was plain that there were hoofbeats all around, ponies running this way and that. She shook it off, and re-dedicated herself to her fundamental purpose.

“Fudge!”

Apple Bloom giggled. “All right—we’re almost there, come on!”

They ran merrily up to Sugarcube Corner, and burst in with a clatter of tiny hooves. Apple Bloom braced herself in front of the counter and Scootaloo leapt up with a mad flurry of wings to land on Apple Bloom’s back, a well-rehearsed routine that allowed Scootaloo to look Mrs. Cake right in the eye and say, “Hi! Can we have some fudge? It’s important!”

“Is it, dear?” said Mrs. Cake, smiling.

“Yeah!” said Scootaloo. “So can we have some?”

“You’re very sweet,” said Mrs. Cake, “but this is a confectionery store. Our best fudge is two bits per piece, though I have some lovely fudgey cookies for just one…”

Scootaloo didn’t even miss a beat. “Is Pinkie Pie here?”

At that, Mrs. Cake pursed her lips. “It’s not nice of you to take advantage of her like that, just because she’s easily charmed. And no, Pinkie Pie is not here, but I suppose you could try your luck with…”

“Girls!” cried that familiar voice, cranky-sweet. Scootaloo squeaked and tumbled off Apple Bloom’s back. Fluttershy had come out of nowhere and was standing right next to them, glaring.

She stamped a forehoof, and Scootaloo began frantically formulating excuses for the theft of her bit, but the butter-colored pegasus had other things in mind.

“Have you SEEN Rainbow Dash?”

Scootaloo’s jaw dropped. Sweetie considered her companion’s plight for a moment, then carefully closed the jaw with a gentle hoof and replied, “Yes!”

“Sure!” added Apple Bloom. “Lots of times!”

Fluttershy’s bluster deflated a bit. “No, I mean, have you seen her lately?”

“How come?” asked Scootaloo, suspiciously. “Is she in trouble or something?”

“She is running around—running! Like a mad-pony! And she is very near term! I don’t know what’s got into her, but if she is not made to stop it at once…”

“Here you are, Fluttershy,” said Mrs. Cake. “A pound of my best fudge, just as you wished!”

Fluttershy glanced hectically over at the shopkeeper. “Oh! Thank you…” She trailed off, as three sets of Crusader eyes pleaded with her. “Um… would you girls like some fudge?”

Three feverish nods answered her.

“Well then,” said Fluttershy, “perhaps you can earn it—have you seen Rainbow Dash just now, and did you see where she went?”

“Sure!” said Apple Bloom. “She went runnin’ off towards…” She oofed, as Scootaloo clouted her in the back of the head with a hoof, all the while smiling angelically. “Somewheres,” concluded Apple Bloom, glowering.

“Oh dear,” said Fluttershy. “That’s the best you can do?”

“It is, it totally is!” insisted Scootaloo.

“She was running very fast, too!” added Sweetie Belle, helpfully.

“Oh, all right. One piece of fudge for each of you—don’t eat it all at once, it is very rich and might upset your stomachs!” said Fluttershy. “I’d better go. I think I know who I should talk to, and I’m sure she would be every bit as worried as I am about it.”

“Don’t forget your cloud! It’s making a terrible mess!” called Mrs. Cake anxiously. “We don’t usually bring, ah, weather indoors…”

Fluttershy gave her an exasperated look. The kids followed Mrs. Cake’s gesture, to discover a small cloud sitting and leaking condensation in the corner—fogging up a nearby window and making a puddle on the floor.

“Thank you, it’s very good of you,” said Fluttershy, with just the hint of an eye-roll. “I really would not want to forget that!” The truth of this became immediately obvious. The hugely pregnant pegasus waddled uncomfortably toward the cloud and gave an awkward leap, flapping her wings frantically and blowing over a paper sign that gave the price of cookies. She landed on the cloud, squished it flat, and flowed out over it in every direction—but all the same, she floated into the air on its back, and as Apple Bloom ran to open the door, Fluttershy drifted toward it with easy sculling motions of her wings and a huffy look towards Mrs. Cake.

She floated out of the door, and the kids saw her beating her wings hard, picking up speed as the little cloud whooshed off towards Sweet Apple Acres.

Mrs. Cake sighed. “Oh, dear. I suppose that’s got you kids taken care of. I don’t suppose you could lend a hoof by mopping up that puddle over there?”

“After we eat our fudge,” remarked Scootaloo casually.

Apple Bloom’s eyes bugged out, and she whacked Scootaloo. “Before!”

“After!”

“Be-FORE!”

Sweetie Belle jumped between them, before the expected scuffle could break out, and offered her diplomatic solution.

“During!”

Country and pegasus filly glanced at each other, nodded, and the three went to find a mop, leaving a trail of fudge crumbs—and a ruefully chuckling Mrs. Cake—behind them.

Dash came thundering up, wings spread as if she was half galloping and half flying.

“Quick, you gotta get out of sight, you-know-who is on the loose!”

Lyra screamed, and trotted in place, turning back and forth and looking for a place to hide.

“Over there! By that tree, on the left!” cried Dash. “In the bushes, hurry!”

With a bound and a flick of the minty-colored tail, Lyra disappeared from view. There was a rustling sound, and then nothing could be seen but the golden glint of two huge frightened eyes peeking out.

“No! No eyes! Close ‘em, put your head down!”

The bush squeaked, and the eyes disappeared, lowering—and a spring-green horn poked out where the eyes had been.

“Gah!” choked Dash. She trotted forward, dragged a few leaves across the horn with her teeth, and then whirled, eyes wide, hearing a thrumming of hooves.

When Trixie ran up to the Carousel Boutique, she saw Rainbow Dash beaming and waving with a forehoof, well to the right side of the building. She looked exhausted. Trixie didn’t look much better—her weariness seemed greater than a brisk gallop would account for, but she trotted right up to Dash and demanded, “Have you seen Lyra?”

“Sure!” said Rainbow brightly. “Why, just a moment ago she was just over there!” She gestured generally away from the left side of the Carousel Boutique. “She was going away at a pretty good clip, too!”

Trixie lifted an eyebrow. “Really. ‘Over there’, eh? Are ‘over there’ and ‘away’ the same place, Rainbow Dash?”

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Dash.

“Trixie just wonders what you’re doing standing in front of Carousel Boutique and waiting for her to arrive, if not to distract attention from something else…”

Dash gulped, and rallied. “Uh, uh… You caught me! I wanted a kiss from the greatest and most powerful kinky unicorn to come to Ponyville since Twilight. Hey, come to think of it, if I get a kiss from you, I bet you a dozen bits that I taste Twilight on your lips.”

“But what are you doing standing around, Rainbow Dash?”

“Have you SEEN me lately? You’re lucky I’m not lying around. Or rolling around! Ha!”

Trixie smirked. “Which parts of Twilight do you imagine you’ll taste, silly pegasus?”

“Surprise me,” grinned Dash, and waggled her eyebrows, and flicked her prismatic tail coyly.

“Oh, Trixie will surprise you… by searching this area you’re guarding.”

The grin dropped away from Dash’s face. “Now wait a minute! Guarding?”

“Trixie does not know why you’re doing it—it’s none of your business—but Trixie has been hunting for Lyra, and nopony else. You’ve heard about it, and you are interfering for some reason. All Trixie has to do is look where you don’t want her to look,” said Trixie, “and the mystery will be solved…”

Rainbow gulped, and lumbered forward hastily. “But all I want is for you to look in my eyes…” Her gaze went sensuous, and she licked her lips provocatively. “I never told you how arousing it was to feel your magic handling me…”

Trixie smirked again. “And whirling you around until you were sick?”

“Um, yeah, right,” said Rainbow. “But it was the way you did it!”

“Trixie tires of this foolishness! You are making excuses and getting between Trixie and her legitimate quarry!”

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re getting between Rainbow Dash and hot lesbian smooches! I can’t stand it any longer, either you’re gonna come and make out with me, or I’m gonna sit on you until you give in! If you’re good I’ll sit on your face so you can have fun while we wait for you to fall madly in love with me… hey, stop looking around, I’m talking to you! I… awk!”

Dash squawked and flapped. While she was face to face with Trixie and staring her right in the eyes, trying desperately to distract her attention, a sturdy rope had been flung over her, lassoing her, and Applejack’s laughter rang out.

“C’mere, you crazy varmint! Fluttershy says you need to go to bed, an’ if you’re so all fired horny you can damn well come to bed with me! Git away from that unicorn, you don’t know where it’s been!”

“Augh!” screamed Dash. “No, Applejack, not right now! You gotta let me stay here, for no particular reason! I’ll explain later!”

“I heard enough!” laughed Applejack. “Come on! You need a nap, missy, you’ve gone all light-headed!” She began dragging Dash away.

“Nooooo! Let’s just stay here all afternoon and talk to Trixie!” begged Dash, digging her hooves in and resisting for all she was worth.

“No way, no how!” said Applejack. “Fluttershy made me Pinkie Promise to come an’ get you and put you to bed. An’ you know that always does sound like th’ best idea ever, but if you think I’m breakin’ a Pinkie Promise ya really spit your bit on that one! You can come an’ play some other day, once I’ve done my duty. Hup!”

Trixie sat, eyes twinkling with amusement as she watched the tug-of-war. She marveled that the rope didn’t snap. Applejack dragged until the tendons of her neck stood out, her teeth bared as she hauled on the rope, but Dash had the weight advantage, and leaned hard in the other direction while bracing herself. It stopped Applejack cold, and she couldn’t pull Dash an inch by backing up.

The stubborn earth pony mare wasn’t so easily defeated, however.

Trixie’s eyes widened as Applejack gave a snort, and rotated decorously, showing Dash and Trixie her shapely rump. She even flicked her tail at them, mockingly. Trixie took a moment to admire the country girl’s ass, but Dash whimpered, and it didn’t sound like an erotic whimper, though Trixie had to reluctantly admit one was justified—Applejack’s rear view was powerfully motivating.

Applejack leaned forward, and her powerful hindquarters tensed, and then Trixie understood.

“Augh!” squealed Dash. She resisted as hard as ever, but her marefriend was like a pony locomotive, hind legs slowly chugging along step by step, digging huge divots in the ground and dragging Rainbow Dash with completely irresistible force. Trixie licked her lips, admiring the scene and smirking as Dash was forcibly removed, step by step, from the scene.

“Aaaaaaah! Dammit!” wailed Dash. “Sorry! Um… to anypony who was around here that I should be sorry to! I mean… to anypony who thinks I should be able to outpull my marefriend! Aaaahh! Ow, Applejack, that hurts!”

“Then c’me along, y’ crazy varmint!”

Dash still resisted halfheartedly, but Applejack was implacable. Trixie could also tell that Dash was getting excited by the marehandling—and on top of that, Dash kept looking at Trixie and seemed reassured by the sitting position and the smirk, as if she thought the distraction had succeeded. She began to grin as she resisted Applejack’s dogged pulling, and then she began to wink at particularly lusty tugs and even moan, “Oooh, harder!” and before long, the two were out of sight, the only sign of them giggles and squeals in the distance.

Trixie got to her hooves and turned, surveying the area, her smirk doubling.

“Exit one pegasus protectress,” she crooned, “and now… we shall see what we shall see.”

Languidly, she wandered over in front of the Carousel Boutique, looking around, taking her time. She could just about feel the tension in the air. It felt delicious.

“Hiding near here, eh?” Trixie mused. There was no response. She smiled.

“Now, where would a wicked little unicorn be? A little unicorn that needs punishing, nay, demands punishing. Even if it makes Mistress cross. But Mistress isn’t here to object… is she?”

Trixie spotted the bushes under the tree, to the left of the Carousel Boutique.

“Oh yes,” she purred. “Of course. You’ve heard the saying, oh naughty wicked little unicorn? Two cross unicorns in the library is worth ONE in the bush.” She began stalking, with deliberate slowness, toward the bushes, smirking terribly, half-aware of a sense of motion behind her…

“GOT you!” cried Twilight, and a birch rod cut through the air with a sound like tearing cloth, and nailed Trixie across both cheeks.

“Aiigh!” squealed Trixie. “Not now, not now!”

Twilight advanced like vengeance. “Whose little bitch-pony are you?”

“Trixie only needs to…”

Thwack! “Who’s your Mistress, Trixie?”

“Aaaaah! But…” squeaked Trixie, cowering back as Twilight reared over her. Behind Twilight, Rarity appeared, running fast.

“Who?!”

“YOU are, Mistress!” wailed Trixie, and grovelled in the dirt, quivering.

“Rarity!” called Twilight. “Quickly—and thank you so much, I’ll bring it back when we’re done!”

Rarity barely broke stride as she ran into her boutique, and then into her inner sanctum where all the kink gear had been stowed. She emerged with a shiny black bridle, with a ball-thing where the bit would go.

Twilight was looking hectically up at the sky. “Please hurry, I want to get her home right away before the Princess sees. I can’t believe how complicated life is sometimes! Bad girl, Trixie!”

“But…” protested Trixie, “mmph!”

The ball went in her mouth, and Twilight’s and Rarity’s magic collaborated in a frenzy of buckle-fastening. Before Trixie could even draw another breath through her widely flared nostrils, she was bound up tightly in the kinky bridle, with Twilight holding the reins. She quivered.

“Stand up,” ordered Twilight, and she complied.

“You are triple grounded with nuts. ‘Cause you’re nuts,” explained Twilight. “You’re getting taken home, and tied up, and you’re in pony jail for a while, I don’t know how long.”

“It’s all right,” soothed Rarity. “I shall get by without your authority for a time, never fear. There are things I must look after—I’m afraid I had better set the life aside for now, if it is not already too late. More than ever, I must be the elegant and pristine fashionista and big sister. I promise, we will have fun again! When it’s safe!”

“Rarity doesn’t speak for me,” gritted Twilight. “You’re getting punished like never before, thanks to this stunt. I’m gonna make a special dungeon just to throw you in, and chain you up and spank you and hit you with the stick, I mean rod.”

Trixie’s eyes pleaded for an explanation—and Twilight’s stern look cracked into the hint of a smile.

“Never said I didn’t still love you, silly. Oh, and lots of oral sex and fucking. But you’re gonna learn to obey or I’ll turn Rarity loose on you!”

Trixie grovelled happily in the dirt, even as Rarity choked and sputtered, “Twilight! I cannot be available for such…”

Twilight wasn’t listening. She grinned down at Trixie, who gazed up at her in quivering adoration, and the birch rod twirled in the air and lashed down to smack Trixie’s ass once more. The blue unicorn thrashed and squalled through the ball-gag, and her cry was broken up by little spasms as Trixie came, wallowing in kinky ecstacy before her Mistress. Twilight twirled the rod in the air, and sent it at Trixie’s rump with a flourish, and it bounced off her ass and sailed into a nearby bush with a mysterious click.

“Up!” cried Twilight, grinning. “You’re gonna run! To your jail, right now, double time, move it!”

She hauled on the reins, and dragged Trixie along imperiously. Trixie moaned, her legs still quivering with orgasm and not supporting her—she fell once, twice, but struggled to her hooves each time and stumbled along in Twilight’s wake, giddy with the public scening and trying her best to do everything Mistress asked, without question.

Soon they, too, were out of sight, and Rarity stood alone in front of her shop. She took a deep breath, turned, and entered, shutting the door behind her.

Nearby, a head poked out of the bush—Lyra, holding the birch rod in her teeth, her eyes wide. She cautiously extricated herself from the foliage, trying to straighten her mane and managing to get most of the twigs out of it, and she placed the rod gently on the ground, as if afraid she would break it—or as if it was a precious thing she really shouldn’t be touching.

Lyra took a deep breath as well… hesitated… and then, approached the door of the Carousel Boutique.

“One moment, darling!” trilled Rarity. “How may I assist… oh!”

Lyra stood before her, woebegone and piteous. Thinking quickly, Rarity seized the elegant saddlebag in a firm magical grip and tried to wrest it from Lyra’s body, but the frazzled unicorn shied away, using her own magic to cling to the bag desperately, and pleading, “No, no!”

Rarity blinked. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“P…please no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Rarity…”

“Oh, darling, it’s not a punishment! I keep telling Twilight, it’s not that you’ve done wrong, it’s the influence of this bit of yours! We’ve just got to get it away from you for a while and you’ll feel much better…”

“No, please, hear me out! I need it! I’m leaving town, maybe forever!”

Rarity sat back, startled, and let go. The bag yanked back in Lyra’s grip, but Lyra didn’t turn and flee, she only gazed even more imploringly and begged, “I need you to understand, and I really need to say how sorry I am. I did everything wrong somehow. Please forgive me!”

“Did you say,” asked Rarity, “that you are leaving Ponyville? But why?”

Lyra bowed her head, tears coming to her eyes. “It’s my only hope. I ruin everything I touch. Bon Bon, you, making Trixie so angry… I even got Rainbow Dash in trouble… I’ve got to get out of here, I’ve got to! I have to find my place in life, I have to find a love I can’t break!”

Rarity’s lip quivered. “But… darling! We love you!”

“But you mustn’t, I’m bad! I do everything wrong and make such a mess…”

Rarity broke in. “First of all, no you do not and secondly, where ever do you expect to go, bringing that magic bit along to prey on your mind all the while, and find this love?”

Lyra gulped.

“I’m going to give myself to Princess Luna. I need her to take me, make love to me, and arc with me. I don’t know if I’ll survive—and I don’t care. I must have her! There is nothing else in Equestria for me. And so I need to have the bit. Please don’t talk about taking it away! I need all the help I can get!”

Rarity’s jaw dropped and she stared in horror at the trembling Lyra. After a moment, she said, unsteadily, “How do you know she wishes your attentions?”

“I don’t,” admitted Lyra. “But I looked in her eyes on Nightmare Night, and she is so sad and lonely… and I know she wanted Trixie, so she’s hurt too. I can’t bear it! I have to go to her, somehow. I can feel her in my dreams, but I never see her. I run and never find her, and all the time I feel her watching, feel that loneliness and I just can’t stand it, I can’t even bear to sleep anymore because of that…”

Rarity’s eyes were very wide. “But perhaps it is the constant wearing of the bit that’s causing…”

“No!” cried Lyra, shaking. “No! I know it isn’t. I can tell. Let me keep it! I’ll go far away, and Ponyville will never have to deal with me again. But you’ve got to let me bring my magic bit to Luna. I have to offer her myself in every possible way. Please!”

Rarity’s eyes dropped. “You should not have to exile yourself. You have done nothing to deserve that, Lyra!”

“I need to do this. Please, please, please understand? My heart cries out for it. She’s my last chance, I need her so badly, it’s gone beyond just sex now… there’s no way I could hurt her like I hurt everypony else, she’s so powerful and wise and my hurtfulness wouldn’t matter and no matter how intense and wild I get I couldn’t possibly harm her…”

“Oh, Lyra!” pleaded Rarity. “Don’t take on so! You’re clinging to this idea that you are some destroyer, I promise you it is not so! You’re a dear sweet young mare who deserves so much more than this!”

“Will you let me keep the bit?” said Lyra. “I won’t even listen unless you give me that, I’ll run away right now. Will you let me keep the bit, and try to make things right somehow, with those I’ve hurt?”

Rarity heaved a shaky breath. “Why… yes! As far as I’m concerned, you may keep it.”

“Do you promise not to tell Trixie and Twilight about what I’m doing? I’m afraid they’ll try to stop me!”

Rarity winced. “But, darling!”

“Promise!”

Rarity gazed at the lovely, distraught spring-green unicorn, set her jaw, and said, “Yes. You may keep the bit, and I promise not to tell Twilight and Trixie of what you are doing. Now, darling, let us speak of this foolish guilt you feel! I hope my promises have earned your trust. Tell me what is troubling you, I implore you! Let me help you make it right.”

Lyra gulped, again. Her eyes brimmed with tears. “You don’t think it’s just because I’m horrible—even my magic, my essence, everything about me is horrible and too much?”

“Don’t think that!” begged Rarity. “How can you say such things, you are a darling sweet creature!”

“But I hurt you,” sniffled Lyra, “just trying to love you. I can’t forget how you looked! Trixie wants to kill me now… maybe she should!”

“No, no! It wasn’t about you at all!”

“Then,” said Lyra, “if it’s not about me… exactly why did you act like that?”

She stared earnestly into Rarity’s eyes, and the two fell silent.

Silent as Rarity fought with herself, trying suddenly to work out what she could tell this too-clever unicorn.

Silent as Lyra saw the sudden withholding, saw the concern—and interpreted it in her own way.

Silent as Rarity saw Lyra’s head begin to shake, the eyes fill with tears again, the tragic look come back with a vengeance.

Silent as Lyra saw Rarity’s anxiety soar, saw the fear.

Then, Lyra had whirled, and was galloping away as if a thousand demons were chasing her, and one anguished word was heard as she fled…

“LIAR!”

Rarity sagged back in despair, only vaguely registering a distant commotion. Lyra had run right into a couple of passing ponies, a gray one and a white one with sunglasses, who cried “It’s Lyra! Hey, what’s the matter?” and grabbed her, hugging the frantic green unicorn as she gave way to hysterics.

“Scratchie,” said the other, “something’s very wrong!”

“No kidding! Hey, kiddo! You’re coming with us, me and Tavi will take care of you!”

Rarity dully registered Lyra’s distant sobs as the two ponies rallied around her. Rarity was not comforted by their ponyish faithfulness, for she had other concerns, concerns both new and achingly familiar.

More secrets, more betrayals…

Rarity hid her head in her hooves, as the sound of distant sobbing faded.

“She was WHAT?”

The earth pony mare nodded sagely. “Rutted publically—by a very effeminate green unicorn colt.”

“Never!”

“Oh, yes! And we all thought she was so proper! Well… until recently, showing her… SPECIAL interests…”

Rarity’s mother did not reply at first. She gritted her teeth, eyes squeezed shut in shame or rage.

“I just thought I’d better tell you, because I know you’re letting your little filly go and stay with her, and it just seems to me that it might be a mistake letting Sweetie Belle stay in… forgive me for saying it… not quite a safe, healthy situation…”

The earth pony mare trailed off, for Rarity’s mother was fixing her with an alarming look, equal parts cold fury and ruthless self-control. Her jaw was tight, so tight that it barely moved when she spoke, and her voice was perfectly level with only the barest hint of tremor.

“Leave that to me,” said Rarity’s mother.

Revelation

Celestia smiled as she walked down the hallway, just slightly slower than she had to.

It was a mixture of caution and the desire to savor. She nuzzled green fronds, careful not to scrape the ceiling, enjoying her progress, and as she neared Luna’s door she thought of a delightful prank.

Princess Celestia buried her head in the dense fronds of the enormous fern, and took tiny, quiet steps, creeping into the room with her face hidden in darkness. Then, playfully, she poked her head through, with a scintillating smile…

It was still dark. Celestia took in a breath, looking around in the unexpected darkness. Luna had said she’d not mope: that she would accept a plant, and the light it needed. The plant was here, but the light was not. Only the open doorway illuminated Luna’s room.

Celestia’s eyes adjusted, and made out the form of her sister—sleeping, with curtains drawn, in mid-afternoon.

No—not sleeping, dreaming. Her eyes moved under their lids, her hooves wiggled like she was creeping up on something, her lip quivered as a tragic look passed over her face.

Not just dreaming, but dream walking: working, pursuing her Princessly duties. And not just working—crying.

“Sister?” called Celestia, softly.

It didn’t take much. Part of Luna’s gift was to walk the line between awareness and slumber, to haunt the borders to dreams. She woke instantly, but her distress remained, and her eyes were full of guilt.

Princess Celestia stared for a moment, not understanding. Then, as the guilt stayed in her sister’s eyes, Celestia’s face fell. “Oh, Luna, Luna, no…”

“We are so, so sorry…”

“It is not Trixie, is it? Please say it is not Trixie Lulamoon’s dreams you are invading.”

Luna would not speak. Princess Celestia narrowed her eyes.

“Listen carefully, dear sister. If you expect to retain any—ANY! of the trust we believed you worthy of, you will explain exactly what you have done. Recount every last thing that causes you to regard us with such guilt and dismay. Do it now. We are waiting.”

Luna gazed up at her royal sister, her lip quivering. “We fear it might take some time, and do not wish to interfere with royal duties that may be more important…”

Celestia sighed.

“No possible duty is more important. Nothing could worry me more than you, here and now, stalling. Was I wrong to welcome you back home from your exile in the moon? Answer!”

“Yes!” sobbed Luna. “Thy mercy was surely wrong! Banish our miserable self to the moon, we cannot resist doing dreadful things!” Luna grovelled, weeping.

Celestia was unmoved by this display. “I will be the judge of that. Neither stall, nor beg for mercy, nor demand thy own punishment! Speak!”

Luna just cried, wriggling on her bed as if trying to hide beneath it by going through the mattress from the top. Her sister watched this for a moment, and then sighed again, speaking less formally.

“I could easily have you whipped and beaten, but if Twilight’s amours have told me anything, it is that you may well enjoy that…”

Luna sobbed loudly again, and would not look Celestia in the eye, and Celestia climbed onto the bed, and extended a strong alabaster wing over Luna’s body, speaking firmly to her.

“Listen to me. It is of no importance whether you enjoy your guilt, whether you crave or fear punishment. All that matters is my little ponies, whose dreams you are again free to watch over unless I take drastic actions to prevent it. This choice is not up to you. I do not need your opinions on the matter. What I need from you—and I warn you, I shall have it, one way or another—is the truth of what you have done. Let us begin with a worst case. Have you pursued Trixie Lulamoon and raped her in her dreams? We shall define this as the acts you sought to undertake in real life: for you, I would lump intercourse and, ah, tongue play along with beatings and whippings and tying her up, as the same sort of thing.”

Luna whimpered, and looked up at Celestia’s stern eyes. “No, sister. None of that. We have done nothing of that sort.”

“Very well. I specified Trixie Lulamoon. Are you concealing that I have the name wrong, that the pony you harmed is not in fact named that? Or, that you are raping and abusing some other pony or ponies in their dreams?”

“No!” sobbed Luna.

Celestia paused, and then said, “Very well. Back to the simple question. Luna, what have you done?”

Princess Luna’s face worked, as she fought for self-control, and then she managed two words. “I watch…”

“You watch Trixie Lulamoon?”

“Yes!”

“Does she know that?” asked Celestia, sternly.

Luna’s composure broke down. “Maybe…”

Celestia didn’t say a thing, for a while. She cuddled Luna a little closer with her enfolding white wing, and lay with her, and when she did speak it was very, very gently.

“It must stop, you know. No more. Do you understand?”

Luna nodded, jerkily, not quite in control of her motions. Her voice was steady enough as she said, “Yes, sister,” but her body trembled dreadfully and could not be comforted by wing-hugs.

“Oh, Luna. I daresay that is the important one—but are there others? That you are, shall we say, stalking in dreams? I am not sure what we are to do with your normal dream duties—we did, after all, make do without them for many centuries.”

“Th… there is one other. Not the same. I seek T… her, but this other one, she seeks me. It is some distraction…”

“Perhaps it is best you not entertain such distractions!” suggested Celestia. “Are there still more? How far does all this go?”

“No farther!” protested Luna, still trembling. “And I entreat you, do not blame me for this other unicorn, her dreaming pursues me with an uncanny fervor!”

“There is a difference between blame,” said Celestia, “and responsibility. Even if it is so, Luna, you are much older than she, and I do hold you responsible for your behavior. It must stop. You can stay far away from both of them, so that they haven’t the faintest hint of your presence?”

Luna nodded, sadly. “Yes…”

“Do so,” said Princess Celestia. She gulped, thinking things over. “And… do not tell anyone of this, please. All I wished, all I wished for you was to bring you back into my Equestria, loved and safe. I cannot begin to imagine what my little ponies would make of a Princess who could lust over them in their dreams.”

Luna was quiet for a moment, then said, “Yes, sister.”

“Here is your plant. Please allow light in your room, that it may nurture this fern, and perhaps cast a little light upon the darkness of YOUR dreams.”

Luna began to cry again, but all she said was “Yes, sister.”

Celestia rose, and walked solemnly out of Luna’s room, without further comment. The dark Princess gazed bleakly at the wall, in the light from the hallway. Then, she winced, for the air was split by a brief scream or cry of frustration that echoed alarmingly in the hall, then the clack of a stamped hoof.

Luna tried to remember the last time she’d provoked her sister into a scream, but it had been too many thousands of years ago.

Rarity smiled at the customer. “It’s made of the finest silk, darling—why, at the shop in Fillydelphia, I confess I purchased three bolts of the material, all they had! It is most unfair to other artistes, I fear, but I wished only to bring the highest in fashion to my discerning clientele.”

The fellow fluffed his wings uncomfortably, making a face. “No, no… I’m afraid you’re not following me. Do I have to spell it out?”

Rarity bowed her head gracefully. “If you would be so good as to express your wishes, nothing would please me more than to fulfill them—in fashion!”

The pegasus customer snorted. “No doubt! Thank you for the clarification!”

Rarity blinked. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

He drew himself up haughtily. “It is really quite simple. I wish assurances that the material used in my suit is in no way used for any of your… OTHER work.”

The elegant white unicorn’s jaw dropped. “But it is suit material, sir, not leather or sheer silk or… or anything like that!”

“Please, explain no further,” said the stuffy pegasus. “I don’t wish to know anything more. Again, I only wish assurances that nopony will see the material in my fine suit used… elsewhere.”

Rarity pulled herself together. “Of course, sir! I promise you, your garments can be as exclusive as you wish them to be! Why, for a reasonable extra charge, your suit can be both bespoke and unique—I will file away all remaining bolts of the material for future use on your couture, as I said I took the liberty of purchasing every bolt that existed and that permits me to make this special offer…”

The pegasus humphed. “How much? Never mind, that won’t be necessary. I accept your assurances, Miss Rarity. I may say that if you do not understand the difference between reserving a pattern for my use alone, and… well, I should not have to say it. Please proceed with the suit, the fabric is indeed wonderful. I won’t have to avoid your couture today!”

“Thank you,” said Rarity, her eyes too wide and her smile terrifyingly brittle.

“When can you have it ready? It must be no later than two weeks from now, I am attending a Fancypants dinner party…”

“Rarity!” shouted an angry voice—a very familiar angry voice that froze Rarity to the spot in immediate panic.

Mother.

The pegasus gentleman glanced at the door of the Carousel Boutique, taking in the irate lady unicorn, and he nodded. “You’ve never let me down yet—I shall trust you completely. Remember, no… you know! Not a trace!”

Rarity nodded, trembling, and the gentleman looked her over.

“Ah… and please, by the next time I see you—cover that.”

“What?” squeaked Rarity.

His eyebrows lifted. A wing gestured to her belly, and her frantic glance revealed there was a subtle mark, a bruise. She’d overlooked it. Lyra’s hoof had jabbed her there when Lyra had mounted her so roughly and fucked her, and to a pony the position of the mark was exceedingly suggestive, and spoke eloquently of just such carryings-on.

Rarity stared frantically at her gentleman customer, her lip quivering, as her mother advanced across the floor with curt, irate steps.

“I’ll let you deal with this other customer…” said the pegasus.

“I am her mother!”

He cleared his throat. “I’ll be going. The fabric is perfect, go ahead—remember, two weeks!” With that, he trotted out of the shop with insulting haste, glancing back over his shoulder all the while.

Rarity’s mother didn’t wait for him to be gone. “How difficult can it be, Rarity? Is it really so difficult to not be a filthy… to not go back to your old ways?”

Rarity backed off a step, trembling. “What?”

“I would have thought you’d figured things out, you of all ponies—that you would cooperate and understand what was being asked of you, when I decided that Sweetie Belle would have to stay with you for the time being!”

“I don’t know what you…”

Rarity’s mother snarled, “No. You know what I mean. You know exactly, exactly what I mean.”

Rarity couldn’t answer. She could only stare into those raging eyes, drowning in the contempt, the disgust that had welled up from its source long ago and suddenly flowed fresh again.

“If there is any decency in you,” said Rarity’s mother, “you’d better come up with it now. If there isn’t, you’d better fake it, like hell.”

Rarity was gritting her teeth. “Hell? Hell is the scorned and rejected, coming out of the past to haunt the present. Leave me alone!”

Rarity’s mother screwed her eyes shut in obvious pain from what seemed a low blow, but then her eyes opened, and she glared under lowered brows and hissed her parting words.

“No, Rarity. Hell is for you if you cannot protect your little SISTER,” she spat, “from harm.”

Again, Rarity couldn’t answer.

“Watch it,” added Rarity’s mother. She turned, and stalked off, leaving the shop empty.

Rarity stood in the middle of the shop, trembling, staring into space. There was nowhere in Equestria anymore that felt safe enough to scream in, nor would any scream, no matter how dreadful, be enough.

Rarity’s eye twitched as she tried to lock down her feelings and put up her old familiar facade. Outside, she heard the sound of children playing in the distance, but she could not make out what they were saying. There was just that sound of childish want, the voices ringing out with innocent, selfish demand, not questioning their wishes, not thinking for a moment of the consequences of their greedy, immature hungers and vanities.

Or perhaps it was just her filthy self calling out of the past and chaining her to her fate.

Rarity turned and began to walk, awkwardly, like a broken toy, toward her sewing machine, so she could sew only chaste and nonsexual fabrics into an un-filthy, forgivable suit for her good and proper customer, and with each tottering step she locked the inner screaming into a tighter and tighter box, boxes within boxes, throwing away each key with methodical deliberateness.

She wouldn’t need them where she was going, thought Rarity, for the truth of her would never see daylight again.

Outside, the Cutie Mark Crusaders headed down the street, arguing. Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle trotted side by side, while Scootaloo kept pace on her scooter, occasionally circling the two or zipping off with wings revving up to full effort, only to return immediately. She wouldn’t go far, as Apple Bloom was scolding Sweetie, which didn’t appear to sit well with the filly pegasus.

“Ah said y’all got to stop bein’ silly, there’s serious stuff we got to think about! All that nonsense about wantin’ fudge like we was a bunch ‘a babies…”

Sweetie gave Apple Bloom a sidelong glance. “You just got a free piece of fudge out of it. Who’s the silly one now?”

Scootaloo grinned. “Way to go, Sweetie Belle!” she said, ruffling Sweetie’s mane with a hoof.

“That’s as may be,” said Apple Bloom, stubbornly. “I enjoyed th’ fudge too, but try this on for size—we got to make things ready for th’ new foal, right? Which means preparin’ for things like wings and horns and such?”

“Or both,” said Sweetie Belle.

“Horseapples,” said Apple Bloom. “You know good an’ well there ain’t no such thing as a pegacornasus. They’re called alicorns and there’s three of ‘em in these parts, countin’ Princess Cadance.”

“So?” demanded Scootaloo.

“So you don’t automatically get no alicorn jes’ by pegasuses and unicorns pokin’ each others’ personal parts,” said Apple Bloom. “Otherwise we’d be swimmin’ in ‘em by now. Ain’t like there’s never been a pegasus an’ unicorn makin’ mommies and daddies together!”

Scootaloo scowled at Apple Bloom. “What’s your point? You’re just being mean for no reason. How do you know it can’t ever happen?”

“But that’s just it! Whatever th’ foal is, we got to be prepared, and…” Apple Bloom gulped. “We got to know. It’s important. I don’t rightly know where Princess Celestia and Princess Luna did come from. It was in olden times—but we got ‘em, all right. An’ Princess Celestia does mighty important stuff, an’ Princess Luna went to th’ bad once and done terrible things. What if it ain’t just Sweetie Belle bein’ silly? What if it’s true? We got to know, and I plain can’t work out how we’re gonna do that.”

Scootaloo stopped dead in the middle of the street, her jaw dropping open, and her wings sprang up. She gasped, “…whoa!”

“Whoa ain’t gonna do us a bit of good, Scootaloo! We need more giddy-up and less whoa if we’re gonna work this one out!”

“No, I… whoa! Oh my gosh!” squeaked Scootaloo. “I.. wow!”

“What the hay is the matter with you?” demanded Apple Bloom.

“Nothing!” said Scootaloo. “Nothing at all! Oh my gosh. You came to the right pony, that’s all I’m gonna say. Guys! Go to the clubhouse, now! We’re going to solve this mystery and find out everything we need to know. Meet me there!”

Sweetie bridled. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back!” called Scootaloo, already retreating at alarming speed. “Meet me there!”

She veered behind a building and was out of sight. Apple Bloom and Sweetie looked at each other.

“We’d better humor her,” said Sweetie.

It didn’t take long to reach the clubhouse. They’d barely climbed the ramp before they heard the rattle of tiny wheels behind them, and the bang as Scootaloo hit the ramp in turn. They whirled to face her, and saw their friend rearing happily in the doorway, kicking the air with her forehooves and grinning with something in her mouth.

It was a glittering, ruby-toned gem, held in her teeth.

“What the hay is that, Scootaloo?”

The triumphant, breathless pegasus trotted into the clubhouse with high, prancing steps. She put the gem down on the same cushion she’d used for the magic bit, and turned to address her friends. “My Mom used this thing once! She was in a fight with my Dad. Apple Bloom, check it out! Use it on me!”

“Ya din’t answer my question. What IS it?”

“The answer to our problem, that’s what! It’s this magic gem. Take it in your teeth, look at me, and say ‘Reveal’!”

“An’ how am I supposed to talk with a thing in my teeth?” demanded Apple Bloom.

“Just do it, okay? It’s easier for unicorns, they can just hold it with their magic. Do it anyway, go on!”

Apple Bloom glowered, but she bent and seized the gem in her teeth. She lifted her head, glared at Scootaloo as if expecting some prank, and said, “R’veal.”

Her eyes went very wide right away, and Sweetie Belle screamed.

Floating in the air over Scootaloo were several full-size spectral ponies, and a foal. The foal floated just over Scootaloo’s head, its tiny wings oddly right-sized on the impossibly tiny body. Legs, by contrast, were long, bony, and the head seemed huge. It floated contentedly, as if peacefully asleep, and Scootaloo grinned from underneath it.

“That’s me!”

Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle stared, amazed. “How could you be so… scrawny?” said Apple Bloom. “Them Cake babies are fat ‘uns!”

“That’s me right as I was getting born,” said Scootaloo. “I asked the same thing. I drank a lot of milk right away when I was born—that’s what foals do. I was big and strong in no time!” She stared challengingly at Apple Bloom, defying her to point out the truth—that she’d been a small, scrappy tom-pony from birth and was never big or strong.

Apple Bloom’s attention, however, was drawn to the life-size spectral images surrounding the foal.

There were three. One was recognizably Scootaloo’s mother, Flight Lightning. The two others were stallions, but only one was a pegasus. He gazed down at the Crusaders with a grumpy look, head high and contemptuous. The other was an earth pony, larger, his head bowed—but he wore a wicked, mischevious smile that lit his face up. His green eyes glinted even as a ghostly specter, and his light russet mane fell carelessly over them. Sweetie stared up at him, her mouth falling open in awe. Scootaloo’s Dad was one sexy stallion.

Apple Bloom blinked puzzledly, as if trying to think of something, and then looked back up at the grumpy pegasus. “How come there’s two stallions, Scootaloo?”

“There just is, okay? That’s my Mom and my Dad and the earth pony. If I have to guess, I think he’s the one who did the wing thing on my Mom. ‘Cos she’s a pegasus, see?”

“Doing the wing thing makes you a Dad?” gasped Apple Bloom.

“Duh, why else would Rainbow Dash make such a fuss about it?”

Sweetie said, “Your pegasus Dad looks mad. And I never saw him before…”

“You won’t,” said Scootaloo. “He doesn’t want me as his kid. That’s why we had to use the jewel—he didn’t want to help me and Mom. Don’t ask me about that part, okay?”

Sweetie’s lip quivered in dismay, but Apple Bloom’s expression was suddenly transformed. She spat the jewel out, and began hopping up and down. “Do me. Do me!”

Scootaloo lifted an eyebrow, coolly. “Oh, now you like it? I told you it was a great idea…”

“Scootaloo!” chided Sweetie. “Don’t you understand anything?”

The filly pegasus opened her mouth, but the sarcastic remark didn’t even get out. She looked at her earth pony best friend, the bouncing and frantic eagerness and something in the eyes, and she remembered: Applejack was not Apple Bloom’s mother, but her big sister.

She took the gem in her teeth, looked at Apple Bloom, and said “R’veal.”

Another set of images came into view, and Apple Bloom craned her neck madly, looking up at the spectral figures. There was the tiny baby foal, herself: then, two others, much like they were in the picture on the Apples’ living room wall, but different.

The stallion, a blue-gray color with pale green mane and tail, wasn’t looking out of the picture blandly—he was gazing down at his foal with obvious adoration, and Apple Bloom gulped, tearing up, for it looked almost like he was looking directly at her. Of course, he was, since the foal was her as well. His gaze was so compassionate, Apple Bloom could nearly understand why he’d lost his life in the farm accident, trying to save his… well, you couldn’t describe any Apple mare as simply a ‘wife’, especially Applesauce. She’d cut a swathe through the available stallions, all the while running her farm with an iron hoof, and nopony talked about it, but Applesauce had not dignified this fellow with a name. He was a hired hand, and the picture they had was literally the only record that existed of him, and it was candid, an accident—Applesauce looked extremely surprised in it.

Once, Granny Smith had chuckled ruefully, while looking at the picture. When asked what the joke was, she’d said “My girl woulda died all over agin, poor thing, if she knew th’ big picture of her would be her without her hat!”

Apple Bloom’s father smiled out of this picture with perfect serenity. Beside him, Applesauce looked completely nonplussed. She had no smile for him, probably just a scolding for dallying with a photographer rather than working. If she’d had a good word for him, it would likely have been a coarse appreciation of his stallionly attributes, possibly contrasted with others she had enjoyed.

And yet, he was the one who’d died with her. Apple Bloom looked up into his spectral eyes that smiled down at her with a limitless, selfless love… and for the first time, she understood, at least in a small way.

Her gaze shifted to the mare also floating over her. She couldn’t see the face, though Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo seemed transfixed by it. She saw just that strong, shapely pony body, decorated all over with the scars and scrapes of hard and dangerous farm labor, and she studied her mother’s image in awe. This was the mare who set the tone for all the Apple family, who’d carried on the legacy of Granny Smith’s mother, who, it was said, would not even bow her head to Princess Celestia herself. This was Applesauce, the impossibly hard act to follow, the sorely missed matriarch who’d pushed her own mother aside and completely dominated, building the farm into a major business and creating an industry out of cider and Zap Apple jam.

Sweetie and Scootaloo stared in awe, cowering a little. The picture on the wall at Sweet Apple Acres was no preparation for the sharpness and fierceness of Applesauce’s gaze. That hat they’d seen so often was pulled low over her eyes, and those eyes burned, and she wore a hard little smile that felt dangerous and frightening, like somepony who was going to get what she wanted, that very second, no matter who she had to stomp to get it. The swagger was off the charts. It explained a lot about Apple Bloom and Applejack, that this was their mother.

Apple Bloom was looking at the stallion again, gazing up into those eyes.

“Ah… am proud of you…” she said, and started to cry.

“H’y, ‘re you okay?” said Scootaloo, around the jewel.

“Shut it off!” begged Apple Bloom. “That’s enough!”

Scootaloo spat the jewel out, and the two Crusaders rushed to hug their stricken companion. Apple Bloom heaved a quavery sigh. “My sakes… thank you. Gosh.”

“We should try to do our foal next! We already know what Sweetie’s mom and dad look like,” said Scootaloo.

“Hey!” objected Sweetie. “Not fair! I get to see Mom and Dad all spooky looking too!”

Scootaloo pouted. “Fine. But then it’s time to do the foal. I want to see if Apple Bloom is there, after what she did.”

Apple Bloom gasped. “Ya think… oh, no no! Oh no you don’t, y’all leave me out of it, you hear?”

“It’s not up to me,” said Scootaloo. “Whether you like it or not, this thing will show whether you’re the daddy.”

“You take that back! I din’t mean nothin’ like that!”

“Please!” said Sweetie. “Show me Mom and Dad and then we’ll do the foal.”

Scootaloo grabbed the jewel back up in her teeth, looked at Sweetie, and said “R’veal…”

…and found herself staring at Sweetie’s dad, Rarity, and a foal.

“You said it wrong!” complained Apple Bloom.

“D’d not!”

“Well, you did it wrong then! You’re bitin’ it all sideways. That’s her big sister right there! Or somethin’ like that…”

Sweetie gazed up, shocked speechless. Over her head hung the tiny foal, herself at birth. There was her Dad—but there was Rarity, full of attitude, as if she’d barged into the vision just because it would look pretty.

“Here, lemme try,” said Apple Bloom. Scootaloo dropped the jewel, and the vision disappeared. Apple Bloom picked it up, and fixed Sweetie with a gimlet stare.

“R’veal!”

Sweetie as a foal, Sweetie’s dad—and Rarity. Again.

They stared at the sight, perplexed. It wasn’t just Rarity, either. It was Rarity at the age Sweetie now approached, a much younger Rarity. Her mane and tail were far less elaborate than they’d become in adulthood. She stood just a little taller than Sweetie Belle, at exactly the same stage of adolescence where her limbs began to grow longer, her body began to contour and refine its shape, casting off foalish roundness but still taut and fresh.

Her eyes were not nearly so made-up as they had become, but all the same, there was a look in their half-lidded depths that commanded attention. Not with the aggressiveness they’d seen in Applesauce’s eyes—these eyes in their vivid, luminous purple exuded utter confidence, a confidence that wasn’t even matched by the Rarity they knew. The neurotic fussiness they knew wasn’t so much as hinted at here.

The three ponies continued to stare at the vision, taking in the simplicity of that naively coiffed yet ravishing mane and tail, seeing every exquisite contour of the young pony body before them as young Rarity stood in spectral splendor, her pose pure sculpture to make the greatest artists weep, and that proud little smile never leaving her lovely face.

This filly Rarity was heart-stoppingly, arrogantly, catastrophically beautiful—and clearly knew it to the tips of her hooves.

They glanced at Rarity’s Dad. His spectral form smiled back with that boyish grin, just the same as the one they always saw. He seemed so happy that he was almost bashful.

Apple Bloom spit the jewel out and scratched her head. “Sump’n funny here.”

“That’s for sure!” agreed Scootaloo. “Sweetie’s the one pony here where we get to see both of her folks all the time! Sweetie Belle, did your Mom look like Rarity when she was younger?”

Sweetie couldn’t answer. She knew her Mom could never have looked like that. Her Mom had a bulgy horn and was heavyset and none of her school pictures had looked anything like her daughter. Sweetie gulped. There was a hint of bile in her throat, something sour trying to come up that didn’t belong in daylight.

“Maybe showin’ my Mom broke it,” said Apple Bloom proudly. “Hey, we should check th’ foal, that’s what we were settin’ out to do!”

“Right!” said Scootaloo. She grabbed the jewel, trotted over to Sweetie, gazed at her belly and screwed up her face in concentration. “R’veal!”

Nothing happened.

“R’veal, I said!”

Nothing.

Apple Bloom scratched her head with a fore-hoof. “It ain’t workin’. Seem to me this thing shows a foal just as it’s born, and a bunch of other stuff around it. Right?”

“Yeah, pr’tty much…”

“Well, what if the foal ain’t born yet?” asked Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo’s eyes went wide. She stood for a moment, and then she’d spit the jewel onto the floor and was stamping a forehoof in utter frustration. “Augh! Stupid rotten lousy crummy…”

“Now take it easy there!” laughed Apple Bloom. “Guess you din’t think it all the way through, huh? Don’t even say nothin’, I can see it already. Nice try!”

Scootaloo glowered at Apple Bloom, grumbling “Gee, thanks for nothing.”

“Now, you take that back to your Mom,” suggested Apple Bloom, “and you thank her, hear me? Dang. Will she let us have it again? I felt like my Daddy was lookin’ at me and he liked what he saw. I… I’d like to see that face again sometime.” A little tear came, unashamed, to her eye.

Scootaloo wasn’t on the same wavelength as her friend. She scoffed. “Yeah, right. Like my Mom would have stuff like this. Dad’s such a jerk sometimes, he doesn’t give us anything, even after the thing with the jewel. And this earth pony guy, I’ve never seen him, ever! I ought to ask Mom why this other guy can’t help us for a change. He can’t be worse. I think Mom just doesn’t want to talk to him, but he’s like my other Dad or something, and it’s just stupid!”

Apple Bloom blinked. “Jes’ a moment. Your Mom din’t give you this thing?”

“Of course not!” said Scootaloo. “We hardly have anything. I told you, my Dad’s kind of a big jerk. I like your Dad better, Sweetie. He always looks so friendly. Remember how he played ball with us one day and it was just like he was one of us kids?”

Sweetie didn’t answer. She hadn’t even blinked—she just stared, unmoving.

Apple Bloom glared at Scootaloo. “I thought you got it from your Mom. Din’t you say something like that?”

“Nah! I said my Mom used this thing once.”

“So where’d you get it?”

“Town offices,” said Scootaloo casually, and Apple Bloom’s jaw dropped.

“Say what?” she gasped.

“I should probably go put it back,” added Scootaloo.

Apple Bloom gulped, looking sick. “Ya think? Yes, you should go put it back, right away. Hear me? You go put that back right now!”

Hearing her tone, Scootaloo stiffened. “All right—on one condition.”

“Ain’t no condition!” yelled Apple Bloom.

“One condition,” insisted Scootaloo. “You don’t tell anypony we took it! Got it? Otherwise I won’t put it back. Do we have an agreement?”

Apple Bloom’s face was a turbulent mess of conflicting emotions, most of them bad. “But… you can’t… I…”

Scootaloo trotted over to glare point-blank, and Apple Bloom cowered back a little from the ferocity, apparently feeling too vulnerable to fight back as usual.

“Do we have an agreement?”

“Uh, yeah!” said Apple Bloom. “An agreement is what we got! Ah’ll do whatever you want, just promise you’ll go put that thing back, please?”

Scootaloo’s gaze was truculent. She regarded Apple Bloom skeptically.

“Right now?” pleaded Apple Bloom.

Scootaloo glared for another moment, and then bent and picked up the jewel.

“Nop’ny!” she said, and, glancing back over her shoulder, walked out of the clubhouse. Sweetie and Apple Bloom heard her wings rev up, and then the rattling wheels of her scooter as it whooshed off back into town.

Apple Bloom tried to smile at Sweetie, whose face was expressionless with shock.

“My sakes. What a day. I reckon I’m jes’ gonna… go home! Yep. Go home and I’ll go right to sleep. Okay? I’m jes’ goin’ home and not talk to nopony and I’ll just have a lil’ nap after all this excitement.”

She squinted at Sweetie, and waved a hoof in front of Sweetie’s eyes, and Sweetie blinked, with a little start, coming back to reality.

“Got that? You tell Scootaloo that’s all I’m doin’. I need a nap pow’ful bad.”

Sweetie nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

Apple Bloom backed away, grinning frantically, and made her way down the ramp, still holding a horrible smile until she was out of Sweetie’s sight. As soon as she wasn’t visible, Sweetie heard her hooves galloping madly towards Sweet Apple Acres.

Sweetie gulped. That sour taste was still there. Maybe that was what you could expect if you were a pregnant filly.

Like…

Sweetie Belle began to walk, as if in a dream. Her head spun and she felt like she was watching herself from above as she made her way, step by dazed step, down the ramp and onto the grass.

She gulped again, and set off in much the same hesitant, stunned, very slow way, toward town.

Specifically, the Carousel Boutique.

She had to talk to her ‘big sister’.

Clay Hooves

“Speak to us, Lyra! What’s the matter, babe? What’s wrong?” pleaded Vinyl Scratch, her sunglasses still crooked from the haste of their flight. Lyra had begged them to hide her from Trixie and Twilight and Rarity, and the best Vinyl and Octavia could do was rush home and lock the door behind them. They’d plunked Lyra down on Vinyl’s bed again, and both of them were in the room fussing over her.

“I just can’t stand it!” sobbed Lyra. “I try and try to get what I need but it just keeps getting worse and worse and I’m hurting ponies and getting in trouble…”

“What’s getting worse?”

“Sex!” blurted Lyra, and DJ Pon-3’s jaw dropped.

“Shit, honey! You weren’t that bad! I recognize that little bag you’ve got. How about you whip that thing out, the thing that you had, and I’ll cheer you up with a little…”

“No!”

Vinyl Scratch froze, and Octavia looked on warily. Lyra stammered, “Um… I mean…”

“No means no, sweetie,” Vinyl informed her. Octavia nodded, and Vinyl continued, “The part that’s confusing me is, why would you say that? Forgive me but I didn’t think I was all that bad the last time, much less ‘worse and worse’, and you certainly did not hurt me. So what’s going on?”

“It’s not you! It’s Rarity, I hurt Rarity and now she hates me but she lies about it and I can’t trust her and why would she lie about a thing like that?”

“Slow down,” urged Octavia. “Breathe. Scratchie, are you sure we should be in the middle of this?”

“She’s upset!” declared Scratch. “We had fun together. Have a heart! Just because you turned up your nose at her…”

This got her a glare from the elegant earth pony. “At whose instigation… Vinyl?”

Scratch’s ears went back. “Oh, yeah, right. That. Maybe I was hasty, okay?”

“We’ve talked about this, Scratchie. Maybe you should work on being more consistent. You’re giving this poor mare mental whiplash trying to keep up with your whims.”

“Ow,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Maybe you’re right, maybe it’s not quite fair…”

Lyra had been looking back and forth between the two. Finally, she asked in a soft, wavering voice, “Can somepony explain what is going on?” and both ponies blinked in unison.

“Oh, sorry, I never did fill you in on how it was!” said Vinyl.

“We’re really close,” continued Octavia.

“And we did a routine that morning where I pretended to be really crude…”

“Because she was trying to shoo you away gracefully. I shouldn’t have gone along with it, Scratchie, that wasn’t a kind thing to do. You can’t go on playing with ponies like that, it hurts their feelings.”

Vinyl sulked. “I’m good at it. It’s just fun! She was okay when she left. Maybe now you’re having second thoughts?” She caught Octavia’s glance. “Sorry, Tavi.”

Lyra’s lip quivered. “No, I’m sorry—for getting in between you two. I knew you were lovers the moment I looked at you together and I should have apologized and left right away. I should go now…”

Both Vinyl’s and Octavia’s jaws dropped, again in perfect synchrony, and they both said “Wait!” and then looked at each other in consternation.

“You see!” cried Lyra. “It’s like you’re the same pony! It’s beautiful and I’m so sorry and thanks for the hugs…”

She reared and made as if to run off, but before she got a step, Vinyl and Octavia were hugging her again, Octavia petting her mane while Vinyl said “Hey hey hey hey take it easy okay? Slow down, slow waaaay down little cutie.”

Lyra obeyed, sitting back, eyes wide and panicky.

“Breathe,” repeated Octavia. “The flow of your feelings follows your breath. If you were performing before an audience you’d likely know that—if you meant to be really good, that is. I’ve rarely seen a pony so flighty: calm yourself.”

Vinyl snickered cheerfully. “You’ve done more than that with flighty ponies—the same night I met Lyra here, in fact. Isn’t that true?”

“Don’t tease,” chided Octavia.

“Tease? I was more cheering. And being sick with envy!”

Octavia nodded solemnly. “It was a good evening, yes. That will hold me for a while.” She gave a wistful sigh.

“Please explain more?” said Lyra. “I can’t follow half of what you’re talking about. I guess you don’t want me to leave after all?” She shuddered. “I’m scared to, anyway. Thank you for letting me hide here.”

“Make you a deal!” said Vinyl Scratch. “I’ll explain about us if you’ll explain what the hell is the matter. It looks like you need a friend. Well—you helped me carry my decks. Hell, you let me go back for them instead of fucking right away.”

Octavia gasped. “No! Really?”

“She did,” nodded Vinyl. “Sweetest thing ever. And she was a trip in the sack too, for not being a guy I mean.”

“I’d gathered that,” said Octavia. She glanced at Lyra. “If you were kind to Scratchie’s decks, it’s much like if you were kind to my cello, and we shall be friends.” She blinked, her eyes wandering to Lyra’s flank. “May I ask the provenance of your cutie mark? Are you of our number, dear?”

Lyra blinked. “Oh! My lyre. It’s a sort of harp. Um… yes, I play. Or I used to, before things went wrong with Bon Bon… and then it’s been so busy trying to keep up with Rarity and Twilight and T… trixie…”

Octavia regarded her seriously. “My cello is in the other room. Scratchie’s decks are on their shelf, under their cloth. Lyra, do you know where your instrument is? It is possible that your distress comes from not your sexual relationships, but the relationship between you and your instrument. Are you still friends, this lyre and you?”

Vinyl’s expression was exasperated. “Tavi! Don’t assume she’s like you just because she plays an acoustic thing. You freak out even if somepony tries to grab your bow, much less play your cello.”

Octavia’s haughty glare silenced her. “Behave! Or I’ll go and turn the corner of the cloth up so the deck is cold.”

Vinyl’s eyes widened at the threat, and she humphed and sulked.

“I won’t, I promise,” whispered Octavia hastily, and continued. “Lyra dear, perhaps you have not fully respected your needs and the needs of your instrument. Is it possible you’ve become caught up in the joys of new lovers and betrayed your deeper self?”

Lyra’s look was woebegone. “But it feels like this is my deeper self. And… is it okay if I don’t really believe you? You ponies just vibe like lovers. I don’t understand why you can’t just admit it.”

“We’re not, okay?” snapped Vinyl. “I don’t understand why you can think that after you felt what I can do on a dick. Octavia is the same way—well, maybe not performance wise though I’ve tried to teach her, but she’s just as hot for a good stallion. In fact she’s less into getting head than I am. We do love each other very much. Heck, Lyra, we love each other more than the stallions—but for fucking? Bring on the stallions, okay? Is it that hard to understand that a mare can have a best friend for life, outside of fucking?”

Octavia leaned and kissed her on the cheek, saying “Aw, Scratchie.”

Vinyl kissed Octavia back, and continued, “Now maybe you don’t rate quite that high because nopony does, including those yummy stallions, but you still need a friend and the thing about us is we’re solid like rocks because we have each other. We get enough sex…”

“Speak for yourself,” complained Octavia, demurely.

“Uh, I get enough sex,” corrected Vinyl, “but we depend on each other for advice and stuff like that. Lyra, what the hell is going on? You seemed fine when you were with me, but since then you took up with some of the celeb ponies in town and it went badly for you? Do you need help getting back with them? We can coach you. Between me and Tavi we’re a pretty awesome team of wing-mares, hear what I’m saying?”

Lyra shook her head. “Not them… I wouldn’t dare. Not them at all. Maybe I do need help, though, to win her. The one I need…” She teared up.

“She’s got it bad,” said Octavia.

“Yeah,” said Vinyl. “Look at her lip quiver. Okay, Lyra, cough it up. Who’s the lucky pony? Look in your eye says you’re over the moon for somepony…”

Lyra laughed, awkwardly, but there was a sob in there somewhere. “Exactly…”

“What?” blinked Vinyl. Octavia’s eyes widened.

“That’s it exactly,” said Lyra. “It’s the Moon I love. Princess Luna. I must go find Princess Luna…”

Scratch laughed raucously, but she trailed off, for Lyra wasn’t laughing, and Octavia seemed awed.

“Have you lost your tiny mind?” said Vinyl. “You’re a unicorn. She’s an alicorn! You know, immortal, Princess, moves the moon around, that kind of thing?”

Lyra pouted. “I know it must seem strange…”

“It seems crazy, you mean!”

“Let her speak!” insisted Octavia. Her eyes were shining, her lips parted.

Vinyl regarded her dearest friend skeptically. “I think sometimes you’re a little too romantic, Tavi. All right. Lyra, what gives you the idea you should go find Princess Luna and poke things in her princess-pussy?”

Octavia clouted her with a hoof, and Vinyl squeaked and shut up as Lyra began to haltingly explain.

“It’s… I… I think the Princess might have been taking an interest in mortal ponies, because there’s something between her and Trixie…”

“Actually you’re right there,” said Vinyl. “I work in the Palace fairly often and I know the staff. They’re buzzing like crazy over Princess Luna being confined to her room. Towns-ponies aren’t supposed to know that part. The idea seems to be, she’d done something kinky with some towns-pony and Princess Celestia came down on her like a falling dragon. If you say Trixie, I couldn’t argue, though I don’t know what Princess Luna would see in her.”

“There’s more,” said Lyra. “At the Nightmare Night ceremonies our eyes met across the field, and it was like a bolt of lightning struck me. I felt her loneliness, her terrible loneliness…”

Octavia squealed, and Vinyl glanced wearily at her again. “Tavi! You total sap. I bet you’re oozing on my bed, settle down.”

Octavia stuck her tongue out at Vinyl. “Your bed’s used to it. Tell me more, Lyra!”

Lyra gulped. “There’s not that much more. It’s just… there’s something I’ve always wanted. It’s kind of personal. It’s a unicorn thing.”

“Yo!” said Scratch. “Unicorn here. Lay it on me.”

“I probably could,” said Lyra. “I, uh, never did though… you know horncome?”

“Sure!” said Scratch. “Not my usual thing. Thank goodness, ‘cos earth pony’s friend tastes awful, hear what I’m saying? So you think Princesses horncome real good?”

“No,” said Lyra, shaking her head. “I mean, when I come that way, it’s overwhelming. I took out a wall once. Pretty much any unicorn, even one like Twilight Sparkle, I can overpower them and, you know, fertilize them. If I get excited I can’t help it, I just blast.”

Vinyl’s eyes were wide. “Maybe I should count myself lucky that you didn’t get that excited. Or should I be pissed off? I thought I was doing you really well…”

“I’d only met you that night,” said Lyra, apologetically. “I was a little intimidated.”

Octavia’s eyes were wide and gleaming. “I believe I see where this is going. Lyra, do you hope that if you become the lover of Princess Luna, she will be powerful enough that you can be truly her mare, and you’ll do that unicorn thing they do, but you’ll be taking it rather than giving it? I understand that part. Ah… the taking it, I mean.” She licked her lips.

“It’s not about hope,” said Lyra.

“Beg pardon?”

“Trixie said Princess Luna’s horn-come cuts through rock. We’re not sure whether it would simply burn up a mortal pony to take that. Twilight thinks taking it through the horn would catalyse it and you’d survive. I… I’ve got to try. I must feel Luna’s magic flooding me…”

Octavia groaned, eyes like saucers, dumbstruck. Vinyl poked her with a hoof. “Hey, Tavi! Breathe! Hah. Damn, Lyra. That’s hardcore! Uh, you first, okay, babe? That’s crazy. Are you serious? And your eyes met across the field or some shit like that? You think she might just feel the same way?”

“Sometimes I wake up with my heart pounding and feel like she was just nearby, like I could feel her presence, smell her perfume, just about taste her… yet she isn’t there…”

Vinyl Scratch heaved a big sigh. “Stop, just stop. You’re gonna kill Tavi. She hasn’t heard anything this romantic since forever. What do you think you’re gonna do about it?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Lyra. “I’ve got to go find her. That’s why I have to hang onto this magic bit—I need to have every trick in the book, I’ve got to try everything to win her.”

“Including your lyre?” said Octavia. “Won’t you need your instrument?”

Lyra winced. “It’s where I was staying. I don’t dare set hoof outside now…”

“Where?” demanded Octavia.

“The boarding house. Second floor, the third room…” said Lyra, and blinked—the elegant earth pony was already trotting determinedly for the door. In a moment, she was gone.

“Don’t even argue with her,” suggested Vinyl. “Not in a mood like that. Hey, you know she’ll carry it carefully. You should have told her the lyre’s name. She talks to her cello, you know.”

“It doesn’t have a name,” said Lyra, and yawned.

“For Celestia’s sake don’t tell her that, she’ll be horrified and then she’ll give it one,” said Vinyl. “Gear likes sweet talk and stuff like that but names, that’s getting carried away. Speaking of carried away, do you need to crash? You look sleepy. And you’re safe here.”

Lyra nodded. “Lot of excitement… wearing me out, so scared…”

“You’re safe here,” repeated Vinyl. “Little nap, maybe? While we wait for Tavi to get back?”

Lyra nodded once, twice, and then sagged to the soft futon, redolent of the scent of DJ Pon-3 and her pleasures, and the spring-green unicorn gave in to dreams.

Octavia pulled the little cart through the Ponyville streets, patiently, until she’d got back to her apartment. She rapped on the door with a hoof. “Scratchie! Could you help me with this, please?”

The door opened and Vinyl popped her head out. “Shush! Baby is sleeping!”

“If you could just unload me, and I’ll bring this back. Davenport was so happy that it found a use, Scratchie. I would almost buy it out of sheer gratitude, except, well…”

Vinyl stared at the cart. It had Lyra’s things neatly loaded onto it, but besides that, it proved a distinctive object all on its own, with its eye-searing green color and… that wheel. “Tavi, where did you get that?”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “At Quills, Sofas and Little Green Carts With One Wheel That Is Orange And Also Slightly Larger Than The Other Three.”

“Oh, you are shittin’ me,” marvelled Vinyl. “Honestly?”

Octavia shrugged elegantly. “He kept saying, specific! It’s all about being very… specific!”

“That pony needs his head examined.”

“He was having a lot of trouble with the sign, I know that.”

Vinyl considered this for a moment, as her horn glowed and lifted items off the cart. “His sign’s in pictures, Tavi! How could he be having trouble with it?”

“He was trying to reach it by standing on a pile of the carts,” said Octavia. “Not the steadiest of platforms. Careful with the harp! Careful!”

“I’ve got it!” said Vinyl. “Well, why doesn’t he try standing on a pile of sofas?”

Octavia brightened. “I’ll suggest it! I’d better hurry. Carts were flying everywhere. Is that everything?”

“Yeah, you’re empty!”

“I shall return immediately!” said Octavia, and galloped off, harness jingling and the empty cart rattling in her wake.

Before long, she returned, cartless, with feathers dotted all over her body and sticking in her mane.

“What happened to you?” snickered Vinyl.

“Don’t ask. Davenport appreciates your suggestion very much, but thinks he might just stick to the basics and retain the original sign, which goes with them…”

Vinyl laughed. “Figures! Here, let me get that for you…” Her horn glowed again, as she lifted feathers off Octavia’s body and brushed at them with a hoof.

“Thank you, Scratchie. How is our guest?”

Vinyl raised a hoof to her lips, and slipped back inside, Octavia right on her tail.

They peered into Scratch’s room, and Octavia whispered, “Ooooh. Isn’t she lovely?”

Lyra slept as if she was flying, or leaping in a great bound—her back arched, her legs outstretched, mane and tail strewn across the futon haphazardly.

“Watch!” whispered Scratch, and as Octavia watched, the dainty hooves twitched, the head wriggled against the bedspread as if Lyra was looking around frantically, and the hooves twitched again in the tempo of a brisk gallop; pert rump tensing with each dreamed hoofbeat, ears lifting and rotating in full perk.

“Oh, my,” breathed Octavia. “Darling, just darling. What do you suppose she is dreaming about?”

Vinyl inclined her head, and Octavia’s gaze followed her lead and then veered away, as Vinyl snickered and Octavia blushed. Lyra’s pussy had winked hard, twice, at them—or at whoever haunted her dreams.

“Guess,” said Vinyl Scratch.

The sound of the S cut through the room, for Vinyl’s wry little voice had lifted in amusement—and Lyra’s ears swiveled to catch it. The next thing the two ponyfriends knew, Lyra had twisted her head to stare in alarm at them, wide awake.

“Oops,” said Scratch. “Sorry…”

“She’s gone!” whimpered Lyra.

“What?”

“She’s not there anymore! She’s gone, I can’t find her, I can’t feel her in my dreams!” cried Lyra, and then burst into tears.

“Aw, honey!” said Vinyl, rushing up to hug her. “Are you sure?”

“I don’t know what went wrong,” sniffled Lyra. “What did I do? It was never hard to feel her before, but now…”

“Look, look!” called Octavia. “We’ve brought your little harp.”

“Lyre,” corrected Vinyl.

“No, we really did,” said Octavia. She rushed from the room and returned, holding the lyre carefully in her teeth, gazing earnestly at Lyra as if believing that the power of music would heal her and bring everything she desired. She laid the instrument down reverently before Lyra, and stepped back, eyes wide, drawing a breath in anticipation.

Lyra regarded the instrument tragically.

“Go on,” urged Octavia. “Go on!”

Lyra’s horn glowed and lifted the lyre, and Octavia trotted in place with excitement, her eyes huge and wide, clearly expecting to observe deep magic.

A note sounded, with a weedy little twang. Then another, that didn’t really connect with the first. Then, a bit of a scale, irregular and desultory.

Then, the lyre sailed through the air, and Octavia gasped and flung herself in front of it, sparing it a hard impact with the floor by interposing her cushiony flank. The lyre bounced off her and landed safely on the futon again.

Lyra had burst into tears, and Vinyl Scratch was comforting her. Octavia gave them an exasperated look, and turned to the instrument. “There, there…”

It seemed unharmed, so she looked up, musing to herself, “The poor things. It didn’t sound quite concert quality, nor did she. Perhaps they cannot comfort each other right now? Still, there was no call for that flinging.” Octavia glanced out of the room, towards where her cello rested.

“Hmm,” she mused. “I’ll warrant Lyra’s music does turn out to be an important tool for wooing, but perhaps we have the little green cart, before the horse…”

Octavia fell silent, and her mind fell to planning, for there would surely have to be a plan.

Scootaloo scowled as she zipped along. The more she thought about it, the more unfair it seemed. It was bad enough having one lame father—but to have two of them, each lamer than the other? Or perhaps it was Flight Lightning who was the lame one, and Dad would be nice if it wasn’t for Mom being such a pain. Scootaloo accelerated.

She burst into their house, and yelled, “Hey! What’s the matter with you, Mom?”

Flight Lightning was lying on the couch, and jerked up in startlement at the sudden exploding filly scenario, and then winced. “Ow! Dammit, kid!”

“Oh, I’m sorry, your wings are sore again?”

“Eighteen double shifts in a row will do that to y…”

“Well, maybe that’s not my problem,” retorted Scootaloo, “since you won’t let me help with them or anything! So why should I care?”

Flight’s eyes widened, then narrowed. “Mind explaining why you’re in such a mood, Scoot?”

“Yeah! Why won’t you let me see my Dad?” spat Scootaloo.

Flight Lightning took a breath. “You saw him a week ago, before school. You know he gets snotty about coming down to ground level…”

“No!” interrupted Scootaloo. “I mean my other Dad! The one you won’t let me see!”

Flight’s eyes widened. “B… what’s got you thinking about him, kid? That’s a whole other world. You’ve never been interested in him before!”

“Well, maybe it’s because you won’t talk about him or even hint that he exists,” argued Scootaloo, “so what did you think was gonna happen? You’ve been hiding him and it’s completely not fair! Who is he? Where is he?”

Flight got up off the couch. “Did you ever think that maybe there’s a reason for that, kid? Did it occur to you that maybe I was trying to be responsible? You really think this is all about me, kid? Really?”

“Right,” scoffed Scootaloo, “stopping me from ever knowing my other Dad, that’s real responsible…”

Flight Lightning stamped a forehoof. “Try this: protecting your access to your real Dad! Knowing how things stood, and making sure we didn’t lose both of them…”

“Choosing between them?” demanded Scootaloo.

“If you want to call it that, yes!”

Scootaloo gulped. She could still see the guy’s face, that twinkle in his eye, mischeviously peering up from under the fringe of russet mane. “Well, maybe you chose wrong!”

“Kid, I was married. I won’t say happily. What did you think I was gonna do?”

Flight Lightning sounded awfully tense, and Scootaloo hesitated. She looked at the floor, torn between a grief she couldn’t name—and an anger that was very familiar and kept boiling up underneath.

“You could have done the thing that would make me happy. I guess that part didn’t matter that much to you, huh?”

Flight paled. “Now, you listen, kid…”

“You could have gone with the pony that looks happy. The one who maybe would look happy to see me…”

Scootaloo had started to cry, but it didn’t show in her voice, and it wasn’t the kind of self-pitying cry that drove Flight up the wall. Instead, she stared right past Flight and kept talking, and the tears quietly gathered and dropped, without acknowledgement.

Flight Lightning gulped, trembling. “Your Dad is happy to see you, Scoot…”

“You could have gone with a pony who would look at me without making a face,” continued Scootaloo. “Who doesn’t just look away and make an excuse and leave as soon as he can.”

“And I’ve spoken with him about that and I’ll speak with him again because he obviously isn’t being as cool about it as I thought he was being…”

Scootaloo’s teeth were gritted. More tears silently dropped. “You could have gone with a pony who is just as much a part of me, I guess. And that’s the problem. Isn’t it?”

“Listen…”

“You don’t really love me, any more than Dad does. You don’t even want to look at me. Because I’m too much like him. That other pony.”

Flight Lightning looked sick. Her legs were shaking, and she’d gone pale, and she stared at those lowered eyes, watching the tears, and the kid kept staring right past her, and that voice, cool as ice, clear as the glint on a scalpel that tenderly cut your throat and drained the life out of you…

“You didn’t even pick Dad because he cares about you, or because he’d be nice to you. And he isn’t, ever. And that doesn’t matter to you, does it?” said Scootaloo. “It doesn’t matter that he’s a big jerk, it doesn’t matter that he hates the sight of me.”

Flight gulped. “Don’t…”

Scootaloo’s eyes slowly lifted, and the tears did not mask or diminish the rage.

“It’s because he can FLY!”

Flight Lightning choked on a wave of bile that surged up in her throat. She rasped, “Stop it!”

Scootaloo was shaking, as well. “That’s all you care about—and you ruined my life just so you could feel good about your big stupid wings, and pretend you’re still a real pegasus!”

Flight Lightning’s wings were twitching like she was fighting the desire to flee into the air, and she gulped back more sourness, fighting for self-control. “Time out. Time out, kid!”

“You don’t deserve to give me a time out! It’s not like you really love me anyway!”

“Just back off!” yelled Flight. “I can’t take this…” She began to back away, towards the open door of her bedroom.

“If you don’t like hearing it maybe you should have been a good Mom in the first place!”

Flight’s eyes were wild. “Lay off! Let me…”

Scootaloo screamed, and flung herself at her mother, biting and kicking with forehooves—and her target was those huge, powerful wings that mocked her, those wings her mother loved more than her own foal, the symbol of everything that was wrong with her life.

Flight Lightning twisted and gave a violent flap, smashing a shelf of teacups off the wall—and flinging the enraged filly right across the room, where she slammed into the far wall and fell behind the couch. Her mother’s mighty wings, strengthened by so many double shifts on Weather Patrol, threw Scootaloo so hard the wall was dented.

Neither pony hesitated for a moment.

Flight Lightning scrambled, whirling around, bolting into her room and bucking the door shut with a bang—and, just an instant afterward, Scootaloo slammed into that door, screaming in wordless rage, pounding it with her forehooves. Her eye was blacked, and she paid no attention to it at all—hadn’t lost a second as she leapt over the couch and charged, too late.

Flight’s heart pounded as she listened to the crazed banging against the door. Then, there was a pause, a horrible scream, and she heard the front door bang open as the kid ran off.

She did not give chase, not right away. She leapt onto her bed and pounded it with her forehooves, burying her face in the pillow, at first giving a scream just as horrible, and then giving way to a mantra that she repeated over and over through gritted teeth.

“Calm down, calm down, calm down, calm down…”

Eventually, she got up. She left her bedroom, looking around. She stepped outside. “Kid?”

“…Kid?”

“There ya go,” soothed Applejack. “Ya comfortable?”

Rainbow Dash glowered at nothing, lying on her side with an awkward arrangement of cushions and pillows propping her up.

“Aw, sugarcube, I’m tryin’…”

“I know,” sighed Rainbow Dash. “I’m sorry. That’s probably the best you can do right now…”

“Ain’t there no adjustin’ I could make? Let me try an’ make it right for you, my love.”

“No, really! There is just no position I can be in, ever, anymore. Everything hurts. My tits hurt. My TITS hurt! That shouldn’t even be possible!”

“Kinda leak, too,” added Applejack. “Which is okay! Not a problem! I’ll jes’ wipe it up, Celestia knows we’ve had all sorts ‘a fluids on these sheets. Forget I mentioned it…”

Dash craned to look. “Huh! You’re right.” She smirked at her marefriend. “Looks like I get to be one of the Apple family cows, huh?”

“Ah reckon,” smirked Applejack cheerfully. “Prettiest one ever.”

Dash’s smirk deepened, and she licked her lips. “Maybe you should… test me.”

Applejack’s eyes widened. “Whut?”

“You know. For quality control, safety, that kind of thing. C’mon, nopony’s watching.”

Applejack glanced around frantically, but they were alone in her bedroom, though the door was open. “I guess not… y’all the kinkiest thing, Dashie, never saw th’ like.”

“How can it not be awesome?” suggested Dash. “Rainbow Dash milk. You’ll rainboom just tasting it. Come on, lick it up, don’t be shy!”

Applejack eyed the door again. “Keep it down, will ya? Granny might hear you!”

“Granny’s probably done it. She’s been pregnant, right? She probably let her stallion drink up some of that sweet Granny goodness.”

“Now that’s a disturbin’ thought,” grumbled Applejack. “Lemme get th’ door, okay?”

Dash wriggled, and prodded her crotch with a hoof, and more dribbles of milk leaked out of her nipples. “Uh-oh! You’d better be quick, no time for the door! Bring that sweet tongue of yours over here. Lick my nipples. They make their own sauce, now!”

Applejack laughed. “That’s enough sauce outta you! Troublemaker!”

“No, not enough! I bet this is why they’re sore. huh? Come help me out. You’ve done it before!” Dash began whispering her words sensuously. “Just like when you make my nipples stand up—you know how. Twiddle it with your tongue, then wrap those lips around, those warm loving lips… and SUCK on me. Mmmmmm… drain me dry!”

Applejack’s mouth hung open, and she stared in fascination at her lover’s tits. Still, she objected, “Dry? That ain’t right. You need that milk for th’ foal.”

“I’ll make more,” promised Rainbow. “Okay, so halfway? I’m sore. They’re too full! Please, I’m begging you. I’ll clop you while you do it. You love sucking on my nipples! Let me FEED you, baby.”

Applejack scratched her head. “One condition. I ain’t no baby, th’ real baby is right there! Uhhh… dairy inspector?”

Rainbow grinned. “Dairy inspector. C’mere.”

“In a minute, I wanna get th’ door…”

“As if there’s anypony in this house you can’t hear coming a mile away! Quit stalling.”

“True enough…” admitted Applejack. She inched closer. Dash wriggled again, and more milk dripped out of her swollen breasts, and she put on a sensuous, eyes-half-lidded look. Applejack began to smile, and her own eyes grew equally sultry. She stretched out a teasing pink tongue, tenderly encircling Dash’s left nipple, smiling harder as her love gasped and shivered…

“Applejack?” came a forlorn voice.

Two sets of mare eyes flew wide, and Dash tensed so hard that twin jets of milk squirted out of her nipples, one catching Applejack in the face, the other arcing into the air and landing on the floor.

“Apple Bloom!” gasped Applejack.

She whirled, blushing scarlet and trying to cover up Dash’s dripping breasts—but as soon as she saw Apple Bloom’s face, all other thoughts left her head. The filly was peering around the edge of the doorway, with an expression of such extreme guilt that Applejack’s brain froze up for a moment, unable to comprehend what could have caused it.

“Er… Apple Bloom, is something wrong?” came Dash’s scratchy little voice, from behind her.

Apple Bloom’s lip quivered, and she looked even more stricken.

“Apple Bloom!” cried Applejack. “You tell us what happened!”

“Scootaloo had sex with Sweetie Belle and made her pregnant!” wailed Apple Bloom. “And now she’s stealin’ things an’ bein’ bad and she don’t want me to tell or nothin’ but I jes’ can’t stand it! I’m sorry!” She burst into tears.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash shared one horrified look, and then they were both up, rushing to console the hysterical filly. Applejack was right there with an immediate hug, and Rainbow Dash lumbered over as best she could to join.

“There, there, sport,” soothed Applejack. “Now, you say that again! What the hay are you talkin’ about? Scootaloo did WHUT?”

Apple Bloom sniffled. “She had sex with Sweetie Belle. To make her pregnant. So we could have a foal too…”

“But a bunch ‘a fillies shouldn’t be able to…” Applejack gasped. “Stealin’. Apple Bloom, did y’all steal our lil’ toy? If you know what I’m talkin’ about, you best come clean right this minute…”

“No!” sobbed Apple Bloom. “I wouldn’t let them! I made Scootaloo put it back, but she got another one that Fluttershy wasn’t using…”

Dash’s eyes widened. “Hoo boy…”

“And I didn’t like that but they put it back but then Scootaloo stole another thing for showing who your parents are, but it wouldn’t work on Sweetie’s foal because it hasn’t been born yet…”

“Look,” said Dash, “that doesn’t count, okay? There is no foal if it’s just that. There’s a lot of stuff that goes into making magical ponies pregnant, it’s more complicated.”

Apple Bloom wiped her nose and went on. “But Sweetie Belle squirted magic from her horn and she said for me to bite Scootaloo’s wing like she saw Applejack do, and I did, and Scootaloo freaked out and was all bucking and shaking and stuff, and that’s when Sweetie’s horn squirted out magic and it set fire to Scootaloo’s poster of Rainb… of you…”

Dash had gone pale. “Hoo boy!”

Applejack was thinking hard. “Apple Bloom, did you have any colts in there? You tell me this instant, missy! Was it jes’ you three and that bit thing of Fluttershy’s? Was it?”

“Yeah! It was just us three and the bit thing!” wailed Apple Bloom. “And I made Scootaloo put it back!”

Applejack took a deep breath—then hesitated. “Did y’all hook up with any colts AFTER that?”

“No! We didn’t do anything bad after that! Not until Scootaloo started stealin’!”

Applejack let out the breath, and sagged in relief. “Apple Bloom. Listen to me, child. Ain’t nopony pregnant.”

Dash snorted, and Applejack amended herself. “Ain’t nopony pregnant that ain’t meant to be pregnant. You hear me? Your little friend, she ain’t pregnant. Them toys don’t work that way—not without good ol’ fashioned help from a frisky colt!”

“And you’re not going to let that happen, are you?” demanded Rainbow Dash. She looked angry—she’d looked angry ever since she’d heard the words ‘bite Scootaloo’s wing’, and it wasn’t showing any signs of lifting.

“No, ma’am!” pleaded Apple Bloom.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash looked at each other, helplessly.

“The hell we s’posed to do, Dashie?”

Rainbow Dash glared at Apple Bloom, who cowered away from her. Dash heaved a great sigh. “C’mere. Come HERE! Right.” She hugged Apple Bloom, and shook her. “I don’t care what Sweetie Belle says. You never, NEVER do that to a pegasus filly! Do you understand? Do you?”

“Yes ma’am!” whimpered Apple Bloom.

“Ah think she gets th’ idea,” cautioned Applejack. “You leave that to us, okay? Apple Bloom, you go an’ talk to your Granny. Tell her you already got your whuppin’, but you got to be honest. You will feel better when there ain’t nothin’ hangin’. All right? Now git!”

Apple Bloom rushed from the room, woebegone but with a righteous purpose. Applejack and Rainbow Dash looked at each other again.

“Ah reckon I’d best go tell Rarity about this, an’ she can tell Sweetie’s parents—that would be best, I’m thinkin’. Uh… you know Scootaloo’s folks? I ain’t sure I ever met ‘em, now that I think of it.”

Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Me either. I bet she’s some kind of orphan—you know how us ponies rally around and take care of our strays and orphans and that stuff. I didn’t expect to start being a Mom this soon. I think I better go and find a certain pegasus filly and teach her a few things.” Her face was grim.

Applejack glanced at her, quickly. “You be careful, now. Don’t you be too rough on yourself—OR on that poor dumb kid.”

“Poor, my ass,” said Rainbow Dash. “You heard Apple Bloom. She’s the ringleader, and that is not what I expect from my biggest fan. I’m going to have a word with her about my expectations. She’d better listen. I don’t give a shit if she’s an orphan and a sad little pony. She needs to have more self-respect. I will not tolerate… certain stuff.” She fluffed her wings, uncomfortably, and then tucked them to her sides again.

Applejack sighed. “All righty then. Meet you back here in a lil’ while.”

They walked out together, descending the stairs to the sound of Granny Smith, in her room, exclaiming “Land sakes, child, ain’t that a mess o’ fussing over what you say you din’t actually do? An’ wipe yer nose!”

Outside, Applejack took off for town and the Carousel Boutique, while Dash looked around quizzically, and then began to jog heavily towards the Crusader clubhouse.

Scootaloo held the chalk in her teeth, and scrawled hastily on the chalkboard.

“RUNING AWAY TO OTHER DAD. WILL TRY FILYDELPA. HOPE ITS NOT CANTERLOT, BYE”

She considered this, blinked, and added, “PS WILL COME BACK, OR WE CAN ALL GO LIVE WITH HIM”. This satisfied her, and she turned to her scooter. She’d loaded the entire Cutie Mark Crusader emergency backup cookie inventory onto it, because it was important Crusader business. She’d made a map of Fillydelphia, and drew a big X and labeled it ‘Dad’, and she was going to go there. If the earth pony wasn’t there, she’d draw another X and keep going.

The tiny wheels were a blur as Scootaloo rattled down the clubhouse ramp—and nearly ran into Rainbow Dash, who blocked her path and shouted “Hey!”

“Rainbow Dash!” squeaked Scootaloo. “This isn’t a good time! You can send me mail, I might be in Fillydelphia unless it turns out I need to keep going past…”

“Oh no!” yelled Dash. “Oh no no no! Now what? You’re going on the lam? Sorry to interfere with your getaway! What is this, Scootaloo?”

Scootaloo’s eyes were very wide. “But…”

“I thought we had an understanding! Weren’t you listening? In case you’re wondering, it’s kind of important for me to be able to teach little ponies what to do! I’m having one, maybe really soon, okay? The stuff you’re doing does not fill me with confidence!”

Scootaloo was gritting her teeth, and also tearing up, her expression warring between distress and anger. “But…”

“For your information, you did not make Sweetie Belle pregnant! Oh yeah. Apple Bloom finked on you. I might add, she probably saved you all from much worse trouble, from what she told us, so you are not allowed to take it out on her! I’m not sure whether maybe I like her better, now! She’s not stealing stuff from ponies!”

Scootaloo’s legs were shaking, and she was blinking away tears. “But, but!”

“But you letting her play with your wings, that shocks me, kid. Didn’t you understand anything I said?”

Scootaloo was beyond words, just shaking and staring nose-to-nose with the raging Dash.

Dash sighed heavily, and glared at the hapless filly. “WHAT, exactly, did you think you were doing?”

Scootaloo was frozen for a moment, but something was boiling in her eyes. Dash didn’t flinch, but another pony might have, as the tiny pegasus’s glare built and built like a fire catching and building into a blaze—and finally, Scootaloo drew a deep breath, and she screamed her answer right in Dash’s face, shaking with fury.

“I WAS TRYING TO BE LIKE YOU!”

Dash’s jaw dropped.

Scootaloo continued, stalking forward, getting in Dash’s face and forcing her to back up step by step. “I was being awesome! And taking care of my friends, no matter what it took! And I was being daring, and I put back everything I borrowed. Everything! And I didn’t ask Apple Bloom to do that. But I guess she just couldn’t help herself, huh? Because I was so amazingly awesome that she just couldn’t say no. Awesome—like YOU.”

Rainbow Dash’s face was a cerulean ball of confusion. Anger, distress, guilt, alarm…

Scootaloo kept stalking forward, and the vastly pregnant mare kept backing up.

“And I did all of it on purpose, too,” hissed Scootaloo, “and I liked it! I didn’t let down my friends no matter what they needed. And I learned what it means to be all sexed up and horny. And I turned into a stallion, and I was awesome! Of all the ponies in this lame town, you’re the one who’s gonna understand me and respect all the stuff I did.”

Rainbow Dash had never seen Scootaloo in this mood. The tiny pegasus’s wings were bolt erect, and Dash whiffed the scent of maturity and shook her head, aghast at what she was facing. She backed up another step, and found herself cornered against the ramp leading up to the clubhouse.

Scootaloo stamped a forehoof, and snorted, shaking her mane. “Do you hear me, Rainbow Dash? I… Laid. It. Down!”

She stared in Dash’s horrified eyes, demanding acceptance, validation.

Rainbow Dash tried to think of what Applejack would say—what Rarity would say—Fluttershy, Cheerilee, anypony. She failed. She glared right back, and she said what Rainbow Dash would say.

“Yeah, great. Good luck with that.”

Dash’s wings whipped open, and she jumped awkwardly up and took to the air, rising slowly at first but gaining speed, her direction nothing more specific than up and away. Her jaw was set, her expression still a mingling of guilt, hurt and rage, and she was done with that conversation.

Below her, Scootaloo howled, “COME BACK! YOU CAN’T SAY THAT!”

“I’d like to see you stop me!” yelled Dash, and flapped harder.

“I’M GONNA GET YOU, RAINBOW DASH!”

Dash just laughed bitterly, and flew higher into the sky.

Scootaloo’s face was as purple as her mane. She pawed at the ground with a forehoof, glared upward at the receding blue dot in the sky… and took off, straight up.

There was no chance of screaming at Dash again. For a moment she regretted that she hadn’t shrieked one last curse, but then she put the thought out of her mind. Her tiny wings buzzed frantically, and Scootaloo kicked the air, thrashing, fighting her way up and up, higher and higher as the trees began to drop away.

She’d never seen that before. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting Rainbow Dash, and maybe biting her or kicking her in that stupid fat pregnant belly to teach her a lesson. Scootaloo’s vision was tinged with red as she redoubled her efforts, aiming for that maddening dot, her failed hero who had betrayed her last hope.

Rainbow Dash heaved a few deep breaths as she flew blithely upward. “Sheesh!” she said. “Come on, Dash. You’ve got to do better than that. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

She hovered for a bit. “Nice view. Been a while. Whoof… yeah, this was fucking stupid. Damn it. Okay, enough pony hissy fits. Time to grow up.” She sighed. “Time to fly back down and talk to the kid…”

Rainbow Dash looked down.

The scooter was still there, but Scootaloo wasn’t with it. Scootaloo was no more than a few hundred feet below her. The kid was fighting like hell, and looked really winded, and apoplectic with rage.

“Holy crap!” squeaked Dash.

Scootaloo met her eyes, and heaved in a huge breath. “RAINBOW D…”

The tiny wings cramped up, and stopped.

Scootaloo’s eyes flew wide open, and she never finished the word. Instead, she just screamed “EEEEEEEEEEEE!” as she dropped out of the sky, hundreds of feet below Dash.

“Holy crap kid hang on I’m coming!” cried Dash, and dove, beating her wings, feeling her huge weight drag her down just as fast as her power dive did.

Scootaloo was kicking her hooves, her wings still cramped to hell. Dash dove frantically, catching up closer and closer, and all the while her panic rose. There was no time…

The ground was rocketing up towards them. She saw Applejack in the distance, trotting unknowingly towards town. She saw a magenta blur on the horizon. But most of all, she saw Scootaloo, plummeting towards the ground, a hundred feet away.

Seventy feet away.

Thirty feet away, as Dash struggled to catch up.

Applejack still trotted in the distance. Dash tried to reach. Twenty feet away… fifteen…

She was gonna DIE!

Every instinct Rainbow Dash had started screaming at her, telling her she wouldn’t be able to pull out while also carrying a nearly-grown school-pony.

Dash’s face became a mask of horror. She felt how heavy she was. Spy… she wasn’t gonna be able to pull out even with just herself and Spy! Still more than ten feet away… her instincts told her she had five, four, three, TWO…

Dash’s wings snapped out, desperately catching air, and she screamed in anguish as her biggest fan dropped away beneath her. “NOOO! SCOOTALOOO!! OH PLEASE NOOOO!”

She couldn’t look away from the tiny figure as the ground below rocketed closer, though she desperately wanted to. Scootaloo’s mouth was open in horror, and then she just curled into a little ball. Dash felt drops of water strike her as she fought to save herself and Spy.

Scootaloo’s tears.

Raindrops didn’t fall as fast as a body. Scootaloo’s tears would hit the ground after her. Rainbow Dash’s tears would never stop falling…

A magenta streak blasted across Dash’s field of vision, and the little orange dot wasn’t there anymore.

Dash blinked, and all at once she had no chance to think about anything. The ground was racing up too fast, and she squealed and flapped frantically, distracted for maybe a moment too long, screwing her eyes shut and giving it all she had…

Dash opened her eyes, and she was hovering no more than two feet off the ground. There was no sign of Scootaloo, or the magenta blur. She allowed herself to touch down.

A pegasus pony flew up—a very familiar looking pegasus pony, magenta with minty-white mane and tail—Flight Lightning. She carried a trembling orange ball in her forelegs, and she landed near Dash, and wouldn’t let go of her prize—she just clung, shaking like a leaf. Dash stared and stared.

Flight Lightning drew an unsteady breath, and spoke, but not to Dash.

“Never said you had to fly THAT high, kid…”

Scootaloo’s eyes flew open in shock. She looked around, saw Dash’s stricken face, and twisted around to see who held her—saw Flight Lightning’s face and the tears pouring down—and Scootaloo wailed and grabbed her in a desperate, tight hug, and Flight wrapped her up in an equally frantic embrace and also enfolded the sobbing filly in a cocoon of powerful magenta wings.

Rainbow Dash staggered closer. “Oh my Celestia… thank you, thank you so much, oh my gosh…”

Flight Lightning was still shaking almost too hard to talk, her eyes screwed shut and the tears flooding out—but when she heard Dash’s voice, it got her attention. She opened an eye, and she saw Dash’s expression.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dash. I understand…”

“If you hadn’t been there… when did you get so fucking FAST…”

“I had to,” said Flight Lightning, and gave way to the shakes again, rocking Scootaloo in her embrace. When she could speak, she added, “Like what you had to do, Dash. I understand.”

Dash’s face twisted. “I…”

“You had to pull up,” said Flight Lightning, very softly. “There was no choice for you. You had to save your baby. And you did, too. You saved your baby.”

Her head lifted, and she looked straight at Rainbow, triumph in her eyes.

“And I saved mine.”

Dash’s jaw dropped. “You…”

“Yeah,” said Flight.

“You’re… You’ve been Scootaloo’s Mom all this…”

“Yeah,” said Flight.

Rainbow Dash fell silent, and just stared at the tough, aggressive, bitter pegasus who’d been such a pain in her butt—who’d physically fought with her, who’d expressed savage contempt for the idea of breeding with earth ponies—and who’d had a big secret, the whole time.

The wings parted, and an eye peeked out, and Rainbow Dash stared also at the tiny, scrappy pegasus filly with the wings that barely worked but the spirit that wouldn’t quit. Scootaloo’s face was totally vulnerable, and she looked at Dash in a strangely apologetic way, as if to say she was sorry for needing too big of a hero.

Then, the magenta wing enfolded her again, and Scootaloo was lost to sight.

“Listen to me, Dash,” said Flight Lightning. Inside the cocoon of wings, Scootaloo stirred, snuggling closer and listening too.

Rainbow nodded, and Flight Lightning spoke in simple, measured words.

“Don’t blame yourself. Even if I wasn’t there. I know you’ll be thinking about that, but I’m serious. It’s not just about you being awesome, not anymore. Don’t take dumb risks, don’t play the hero…”

Rainbow gulped, tearing up, looking into Flight Lightning’s eyes.

“I want you to stay safe, Dash, because it turns out we’re kind of alike. And you know, there might be times when it’s hard. I don’t even mean pegasus attitudes. You’re kind of like me. It might not be exactly an easy kid you get. You have no idea, Dash, you don’t know what it’s like. I hope you have good support at home…”

Rainbow Dash nodded. A rueful smile twisted the corner of Flight Lightning’s mouth.

“Yeah, I know. Awesome. But listen to me—whether you have that or not, you never give up. No matter how tough it gets, don’t you ever fucking give up, Dash. While there is life still in you, you stand by your baby. That’s all that matters. You did the right thing up there, Dash. Remember that. It might be really hard for you, but keep fighting for your kid no matter what.”

Flight drew Scootaloo a little closer.

“You’ll be glad you did.”

Dash sniffled, wiping her nose, and Flight’s eyes narrowed.

“Now, that’s enough. We’re good, we got stuff to talk about. We don’t need you right now. Go home.”

“Uh… is Scootaloo gonna be…”

“Go home, Rainbow Dash,” repeated Flight Lightning.

Dash bit her lip, kicked at the ground, fluffed her wings and winced… and then, she trotted off without further argument. Flight watched her go. Scootaloo poked her head out of her mother’s enfolding wings, and watched too.

“She’s still awesome,” she said.

Flight nodded slowly. “You’re not wrong, kiddo.”

“So…” said Scootaloo. “So, can I see my other dad?”

Flight Lightning snorted, in affectionate laughter. “Scoot, I just knew you were going to say that…”

Scootaloo still trembled, her eyes showed the ravages of tears, and yet she looked her Mom in the eye and said, “What were you gonna answer?”

She got a hoof tousling her mane, scratching her ears.

“We’ll figure something out. Fuck it. Yes. I’ll make it happen somehow.”

Hearing that, Scootaloo’s face broke into a joyous smile—which then flickered and cut out.

“Uh-oh. Mom, will he be angry like my pegasus Dad?”

“No,” said Flight. “No, he won’t. Maybe startled? I know he won’t be angry. He was so different. Hell, kid, I miss him real bad. I just didn’t dare risk it, but I’ve missed him all this time. I think that’s what hurt the most.”

“Is he gonna be angry with you, then? For showing up with a kid and stuff?” asked Scootaloo.

“I’m sure he’s not angry at me either, and that’s… nice. He’s… a real character. I think you get your mane and tail from him. Not the color, but the way it falls. Ya know? Yeah. He’ll appreciate you. You’re a lot like him. You’re a high stepper too. Maybe that’s why I can’t help but love you so much.”

Scootaloo snuggled happily against her mother, who sighed contentedly before adding one final thought.

“And Appleloosa is nice this time of year…”

Naked

“Rarity?” said Sweetie Belle, hesitantly.

The door to the inner sanctum was open, just a little. Sweetie stepped closer, peering in, biting her lip because she knew Rarity didn’t approve of her entering.

Rarity called it personal space. Sweetie did truly want to respect Rarity’s personal space.

“Rarity?”

“Sweetie!” came that familiar voice. With admirable alacrity, the older unicorn appeared in the doorway, face wreathed in a disasterproof smile. “How may I help you, darling?”

“I know you don’t want me going in there…” said Sweetie.

Rarity’s smile didn’t crack. “I’m cleaning, darling. In relatively few minutes it will no longer matter and you can go where you like. If you would give me those few minutes, I will be with you shortly.”

Sweetie’s lip quivered. “But I kinda needed to talk to you real bad!”

It was Rarity’s turn to hesitate, torn between the purge of her too-adult life and the demands of her personal life. Abruptly, she trotted through the sanctum door, shutting it behind her. “Of course! I will get back to my cleaning when time permits. What is worrying you?”

Sweetie gulped.

“Rarity? I think I’m pregnant. But I don’t know how to tell for sure. Can you help?”

Rarity’s jaw dropped, and she sat back onto her haunches, stunned.

“Because,” said Sweetie, “I think you might know about this stuff.”

She gazed earnestly at Rarity, and realized she had no idea what reaction she’d expected. Disapproval? Comfort? Anger? Instead, Sweetie watched emotions pass across Rarity’s face, too turbulent to interpret. Then, one emotion dominated—fear.

“Oh, Sweetie Belle! What shall we do?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Sweetie. “I was hoping you could tell me!”

Rarity was panting, hyperventilating. “Okay. First things first, Rarity. Handle the situation. Sweetie Belle, before we speak any further, have you told anypony?”

“No!” said Sweetie. “It’s just us! The Crusaders, I mean. Me and Scootaloo had a secret plan that we should get to have a foal too. Apple Bloom helped. I think maybe it worked but…”

“Oh sweet Celestia. Sweetie Belle, promise me you won’t speak of this to anypony!”

Sweetie gulped again. “Did I do something bad?”

“We shan’t get into that! There is more going on than you know about—Sweetie, swear to me you won’t tell anypony! We’ll try to keep a lid on this. Oh dear, oh dear, why me? Why you? Oh, Sweetie Belle!”

“I did, didn’t I? It’s bad. I did do something bad. Really bad,” managed Sweetie Belle. Her mood began to plummet.

“The important thing is not to go from bad to worse. Have you heard of what’s called earth pony’s friend? You shall,” said Rarity, gritting her teeth. “I shudder to think of it but desperate times call for desperate measures. Thank heavens you came to me! I will protect you at all costs, Sweetie, and there are things that must be done!”

“Terrific,” mumbled Sweetie. “What’s a desperate measure? What’s an earth pony’s friend? You’re talking about taking my foal and… and making it not be a foal any more!”

Rarity’s expression was grim. “Darling, beloved Sweetie Belle, you cannot understand. You are too young. If you’ve gotten yourself in this sort of trouble, we are going to have to get you out of it, for I shall not stand by and allow your life to be ruined.”

Sweetie’s lip quivered. She looked like she was about to cry. “It’s so bad that, that it would ruin my life, huh? That’s what a little baby foal is, Rarity? It’s a life ruiner?”

“Poor Sweetie! At your age—yes. We’ll talk! Again, you have no idea what that would mean, none! How have you even learned this fact? Who told you that you might be pregnant? You needn’t tell me how you did it, I fear I’ve told you far too much already…”

Sweetie sat, and looked at Rarity bleakly. “We stole, I mean Scootaloo stole a thing from Town Offices. We thought it would show us our foal, and then we’d know what sort of a foal it was. But it didn’t show anything, because the foal hasn’t been born yet, maybe.”

Rarity blinked. “A thing from Town Offices?”

“It was a jewel,” said Sweetie. “We tried it on Scootaloo, and it showed her as a baby and her Mom and two guys, and one of them was an earth pony.”

Rarity’s eyes widened.

Sweetie went on. “And we tried it on Apple Bloom, and it showed two ponies I never saw except in that picture on her wall in her house…”

Rarity opened her mouth, but she couldn’t speak. Sweetie was still looking her in the eye, with that terribly bleak, betrayed expression.

“And we tried it on me, and it showed me as a baby, and Daddy, but it didn’t show Mom. It showed you. Rarity, why did it show you? It was you, when you were about as old as me—I mean, as old as I am, now. Maybe you were a little older. You were really pretty.”

Rarity’s mouth opened and shut, but no sound came out.

“I don’t understand how you could have showed up in something like that, because you always do everything right and you never do anything wrong, ever…”

Rarity gulped, unable to look away as Sweetie kept quietly talking.

“But maybe I understand how come you have to make my foal go away, because it must be the most bad thing ever, to do this. So I guess that one day you did do something terribly wrong, and you never wanted to do anything wrong again, ever, after being that bad. Now I understand why you have to be so good…”

Sweetie’s voice caught for a moment—and then, unbearably, continued.

“And I guess it means that… I must be the horrible, wrong, bad thing you did…”

Rarity sobbed, out loud. “Noooo!”

“It’s okay,” said Sweetie. “It explains a lot. I should probably go away now that I know why you hate me…”

Rarity shook her head, tearing up. “No, please, Sweetie! Don’t think of it that way! Just… don’t think of any of it, pretend it is a bad dream, okay?” She grovelled, pleading. “Just pretend none of this happened, and we’ll figure out something to do about your little problem and I love you dearly and let us make a world for us to live in where it never happened, where none of this is happening…”

“RARITY!” called an anxious voice from outside. Moments later, Applejack trotted in, breathing hard from a brisk run. She did a double-take upon seeing Sweetie Belle facing Rarity, and pulled up short, staring at both of them.

“Huh!” she said. “Damn if that won’t save some time. Rarity, this lil’ scaper thinks she’s pregnant! Ain’t so! They got up to all sorts of mischief, but they din’t have no colt handy! Ya look peakied. Has she been tellin’ you a big ol’ story about all that?”

Sweetie stared at Applejack in horror. Rarity swallowed hard.

Applejack met Sweetie’s look first. “That’s right, Sweetie Belle. You ain’t pregnant, nohow! What you done, that don’t count as far as plantin’ no seeds. I’m sorry, honey, I see you’re upset. Take it from me, it’s a blessin’ because you don’t want to be dealin’ with what it entail. That… would be bad.” She rolled her eyes, wearily.

Sweetie Belle sagged, and stared at nothing, somewhere on the floor.

Rarity gulped, seeing that. “Ah… Applejack, thank you for your concern, but we already knew that. If you could just leave us to work it out ourselves…”

Applejack blinked. “What? You know it?”

“Just pretend you never saw us, and we will take care of things—please?”

“Wal, now, wait jes’ a minute,” demanded Applejack. “What the hay are you talkin’ about? I realize your lil’ sis is upset right now, but she ain’t the only one involved! Rainbow Dash has gone off to talk to that Scootaloo, and Apple Bloom looked worse’n I ever seen her!”

Applejack’s attention turned to the downcast Sweetie. “And don’t you be cross at her, she was looking out for your best interests, missy! You hear me?”

Rarity’s attention was also on Sweetie, and she didn’t like the look of that dull stare at all. “Applejack, you should not scold my, my… little sister! I explained that we have it under control, there is nothing happening here that I cannot understand and deal with…”

“Is that so! You knew about all this? Happens I’d like to see an apology for poor Apple Bloom for putting her through these here challenges, but if you are behind this nonsense I’m inclined to expect an apology from y…”

They weren’t alone. Another figure had appeared in the doorway of the Carousel Boutique.

Rarity’s father.

He walked heavily forward, looming, and staring at Rarity with the most peculiar expression: part ingratiating, part angry, all desperate.

“Rarity, honey, you know your mother is very upset right now and she seems to think you’re maybe not behaving right…”

Applejack stared in disbelief. Rarity had gone speechless again the moment he appeared. He continued to advance, step by step.

“You know,” he said, “that you can’t be a bad girl, right? We have reputations to uphold and stuff, and you’ve usually been so good about not being, you know…” He gulped, looking panicky, as if afraid to look at her directly.

“The hell is this?” demanded Applejack. Rarity sagged back, unable to look away from his eyes. Sweetie Belle’s dull gaze lifted, and she looked at her father, and at Rarity’s traumatized, cowering posture.

He turned to Applejack. “Uh, there were some rumors going around that my daughter was living some sort of wild lifestyle…”

Applejack snorted. “Like half o’ Ponyville, you mean?”

He was undaunted, getting angrier. “Yeah, well, Mom doesn’t approve of that stuff! We need Rarity to behave, it’s important for a lot of reasons!”

“Oh yeah?” demanded Applejack. “For your information, she’s runnin’ a business with all that kinky stuff like you mention, and it’s puttin’ food on her table and feedin’ her and her cat AND her lil’ sister there! An’ she’s got enough on her plate, your younger daughter has been stirrin’ up trouble the likes of which I won’t mention right now! I think maybe you’re bein’ a mite hard on my dear pony friend. How about you lighten up, mister?”

Rarity’s father glowered, and pointed at Rarity with a foreleg as she cringed against the ground and covered her head with her hooves… and he began to shout. “Well, how about she stop being a bad girl, then? And upsetting her Mom?”

“Daddy,” said Sweetie Belle, beginning to understand where the demands for silence came from.

“And stop doing things that get us all in bad trouble…”

“Daddy!” said Sweetie Belle, getting to her hooves.

“Ah don’t know about your family,” argued Applejack, “but in the Apple family we forgive our children when they done wrong…”

“She’s just a…”

“DADDY!” shrieked Sweetie Belle, in her glass-shattering squeak, and both he and Applejack winced. Rarity showed no sign of responding—she was cowering in a heap on the floor, trembling, clearly unable to cope with any of this, and Sweetie Belle had seen that.

She stepped forward, her eyes still bleak and slightly tearful, but grim and hard as well. She faced her father, standing between him and Rarity. She stamped a forehoof and lowered her horn menacingly, glaring up at him from under lowered brows.

“Daddy,” hissed Sweetie Belle.

“Leave my MOTHER alone!”

In the resounding silence, Sweetie Belle stamped her hoof again, bracing herself, physically protecting Rarity. Her little jaw was set, her stare was grim. At that moment, Sweetie Belle didn’t care if she was the thing that had ruined Rarity’s life—it didn’t matter, all that mattered were the adults who were shaming and hurting Rarity and driving her to despair, and Sweetie was not having it, not for one more moment.

Applejack’s mouth had dropped open in shock. She glanced quickly back and forth.

At Sweetie, so grim, so protective.

At Rarity, making no move to defend herself, offering no argument or contradiction.

At Rarity’s father, who shied away slightly—who looked at Applejack, the outsider, with a look she’d so recently seen on the face of Apple Bloom. There was a childishness, and some sort of petulant anger—and guilt.

Applejack looked at him as if for the first time, and he looked like a big colt who’d been caught breaking something.

“Mommy’s a filth-” she breathed to herself, and stopped before she finished the phrase. “Oh, Rarity. Ohh, Rarity…”

Sweetie Belle’s teeth were gritted together harshly, and she breathed as if she was about to charge at her father, horn-first. She took a moment to glance at Applejack, and said, “You too! Get out!”

Applejack’s eye flashed. Her lip curled. “Like hell!” she snarled, and she leapt.

Sweetie shrieked—only to realize the next instant that she was not being attacked. She was being supported. She still stood, protecting the cowering Rarity, but now, over her, stood a fullgrown earth pony mare in a cowpony hat, the child of the notorious Applesauce, matriarch of Sweet Apple Acres, and there were now two of them glaring at the male intruder—Sweetie’s, and Rarity’s, father.

Applejack’s eyes were just as grim as Sweetie’s, but much more frightening.

“Ah think ya need t’ go away, sport. How about now—how’s that work for ya?”

Rarity’s father backed off a step.

Applejack stamped a hoof. A moment later, Sweetie did likewise.

“Git!” snarled Applejack.

He backed away another step, and another, his eyes wide. He bumped the doorframe—and at the touch, he jerked in surprise, and whirled, and bolted—running out the door, and continuing down the road, his galloping hooves pounding the earth heavily as they receded in the distance.

Applejack’s heart pounded as she listened to him go. She looked down, as Sweetie Belle looked up with her expression full of sudden vulnerability.

“Dang,” said Applejack, helplessly.

They both turned to Rarity, who did not rise.

She looked up at them with none of her usual attitude, neither to pretend glamour and poise nor to wail in noisy despair. She cried softly, and she shrunk back from them.

“I am so sorry for everything,” she quavered.

Applejack glanced at Sweetie. They stepped toward Rarity, and she scrabbled awkwardly back across the floor as if expecting a blow or a torrent of abuse. Seeing this, Applejack frowned, and before Rarity could flee further, the earth pony pounced.

Rarity screamed piercingly, but her friend and protector figure was already hugging her tightly, and would not let go.

“Now your craziness makes a lil’ bit more sense!” said Applejack.

Rarity heaved deep, shuddering breaths, with a tormented look—trying to hold herself apart, and failing. She was no match for the sturdy earth pony, and first she gulped, then her tears doubled, and then all at once she broke and turned to bury her face in Applejack’s mane, weeping piteously while Applejack petted her.

Sweetie looked on, trembling.

“Dear Celestia,” said Applejack, “what you must be thinkin’, child. Is this even true? I’ve heard tell of a thing they got in Town Offices which kin show us if Rarity’s really your mother. Maybe I jumped hasty there…”

“That’s how I know,” said Sweetie. “Scootaloo took that thing. It’s a magic jewel. It must be true.”

Applejack blinked. “That’s right. Apple Bloom came to me ‘cos Scootaloo was stealin’. It all fits together. So much fittin’ together. She ain’t no sister-hooves—she’s mother-hooves! All that advice about foalin’ for us, an’ we thought she was jes’ bein’ clever like always…”

Sweetie watched, and Applejack gave an exasperated sigh. “Don’t keep on standin’ there, child. Come here. Come here!”

“I’m bad,” protested Sweetie. Her tail was tucked between her legs, and she shifted from hoof to hoof, on the verge of making a break for it.

“Like hell you are,” said Applejack. “I saw what you did there. I know you. We love you, Sweetie. Come here.”

“She hates me. I’m a wrong thing. I’m her big mistake.”

“Bite your tongue, child,” said Applejack tartly, much as Granny Smith might have. “You come here and look in her eyes and then you dare tell me that.”

Rarity was already shaking her head, as soon as she heard Sweetie start talking that way, and she gazed imploringly over Applejack’s strong shoulder, her mane disheveled, her eyes running with tears that streaked her mascara, and she cried, “Sweetie, I could never hate you! I have been awful, but I will always love you, always, always! How can you ever forgive me?”

Sweetie stepped closer. “You… don’t want me to go away? And pretend nothing ever happened?”

Rarity’s lip quivered. “I have pretended that your whole life, Sweetie Belle. Look where it’s got us. Our lives are ruined, and all is lost.”

Applejack opened her mouth to object, but Sweetie Belle was shaking her head, opening her mouth, and something told the country mare to wait. That bullheaded, determined little filly was about to speak, and it wouldn’t be the first time she’d cut through all the confusion with a few unexpectedly shrewd words. That look was in her eye again, and Applejack hesitated.

In fact, it took just one.

“Mommy?” said Sweetie Belle.

Rarity jerked in Applejack’s embrace. “Oh, Sweetie, no. I don’t deserve…”

“Mommy,” repeated Sweetie, stepping forward.

Rarity struggled, but Applejack held fast, and whispered, “Listen, you. It’s important.” She could sense where this was going as well as Rarity could.

Sweetie came right up, shaking, but with the tenacity that exemplified her.

“I love you, Mommy,” she said, and snuggled up.

Rarity stood it for about half a second, and then burst into loud, wailing hysterics—but she wasn’t trying to push Sweetie away. She reached out and clung to her filly, straining Sweetie to her chest, dripping tears onto her face.

Sweetie was crying and smiling, though it was a wobbly smile. “Mommy…”

“Oh, baby, I don’t deserve this, I don’t deserve any of this…”

Sweetie looked her hard in the eye. “I love you, Mommy,” she repeated, and at that, Rarity stared right back with desperate intensity, and replied, “And I love you SO MUCH.”

Sweetie shut her eyes, and nestled against Rarity, and Applejack breathed again.

“My sakes,” she said. “When I think back on all them clues…”

“I don’t make clues,” objected Rarity, weakly. Applejack shot her a sharp look.

“Is that so… ‘mommy’?”

Rarity’s ears went back. “Ah. Yes. That.”

“Not ta mention all that foalin’ stuff you mysteriously knew about,” added Applejack.

“Can you ever forgive me? Er, I mean… It is quite all right if you cannot,” said Rarity. “I have been simply beastly and lived an elaborate lie. Or, rather, a very simple but very significant one.” She pulled Sweetie a bit closer. “It was for a reason.”

“I can’t see why you din’t come to us sooner. Aw, Rarity!” said Applejack. “If that feller was hurting you, such things need ta be stopped! Why din’cha run away? Somepony woulda hid you! And why’d you let Sweetie grow up with them evil folks?”

Rarity’s expression was serious, and a little haunted. “It’s more complicated than that, Applejack. I won’t say there wasn’t some justice in the way things unfolded. You must realize, I was not the fashionista I am now. I had gained my cutie mark, and believed I would take the world by storm with garments heavily bedazzled with jewels. Canterlot fashion was most unimpressed, at first. I had so much to learn. The real world is not a child’s school play…”

“You’re sayin’ you were poor, Rarity? You left your baby with your folks because you couldn’t afford to get free of ‘em an’ live? Folks would’a helped, especially if they knew what was happenin’.”

“It’s not that I was poor,” said Rarity. “I was making my way in life. It didn’t start well. There wasn’t time. I was a fool. I was… betrayed…”

“I’ll say,” snorted Applejack. “I think I understand what they did to you.”

Rarity shook her head, the haunted look returning. “No, I don’t think you do. There is a reason my fetishes and personal ways center around shame. It’s associated with that time. There are worse things than shame, Applejack. I own my shame—I play tricks with it, make money from it, allow it to inform all that I do. It is a part of me, but there was a time when I shone like a jewel myself, and hadn’t a trace of shame.” She winced. “And yet, in some ways I was dreadfully ugly. Shall we say, I grew up?”

Applejack scratched her head with a hoof. “You’re mighty confusin’, Rarity.”

“Yes. I am,” said Rarity, serenely.

“So… is Mommy a filthy pony,” asked Applejack, “or not?”

Rarity winced. “Back to the shame. Applejack, what I might say during intimate moments is personal…”

Applejack blushed. “Sorry! All’s I mean is, we don’t see you like that, never did! We love you, and we love your baby that we thunk was your lil’ sister, and we hate your folks for hurtin’ you in such a way…”

At that, Sweetie twisted to stare at Applejack. “But my Mom and Dad wouldn’t hurt anybody!” She blinked, realizing what she’d said. “I mean… stop that! Even if Rarity is my real Mom, they didn’t hurt me! They’re kind of grumpy, at least my M… darn it! Why does this have to be so confusing?”

“Of course they didn’t, Sweetie Belle,” consoled Rarity.

“Uhhhh… if you say so,” said Applejack. Rarity gave her a look.

“I do say so. I understood very quickly why Mother had brought Sweetie Belle here—blind trust was destroyed years ago, never to return—but they would not have harmed her. They shall not vanish from your life, Sweetie, I’ll see to that, just as they saw to it that you did not vanish from mine. Maybe it will even be slightly easier, now. Mother has always had her reasons, I cannot fault her. Daddy is… impressionable.”

“…sicko,” muttered Applejack, but Rarity silenced her with a glare.

“We all have our burdens to bear, Applejack, be grateful if yours are more easily understood.”

Sweetie stirred, looking up at Rarity unhappily. “Is this a bunch of grown-up stuff, Rarity… I mean, Mommy?”

“It’s okay, Sweetie, you may call me whatever you wish… and yes, indubitably. Very grown-up stuff.”

“Does all grown-up stuff hurt this much?”

Applejack winced, tears coming to her eyes, and Rarity gazed steadily into Sweetie’s, saying, “Maybe sometimes. We must soldier on through, Sweetie Belle. You were hoping to take on terribly grown-up stuff yourself, you know.”

“Will anything ever be okay again… ever?”

Rarity hugged Sweetie. “Of course it will! Be brave, darling. It is all part of growing up. I have had to grow up too, it’s not so bad!”

Sweetie’s lip quivered. “I… I… I don’t wanna EVER grow up, now!”

She buried her face in Rarity’s mane, crying, and Rarity cuddled her, rocking her back and forth, crooning soft words. “It’s okay, baby, you’re going to be okay. Things don’t have to change so much… We’ll keep you safe. Won’t we, Applejack?”

Applejack gulped. “Hell yeah. Never you mind, Sweetie. Everythin’s gonna be okay.”

There was a sound at the door, and Applejack glanced over in a panic, fearing it was Rarity’s father again—but it was nothing of the sort. It was a magenta pegasus mare, poking her head in, and then a more familiar face underneath—Scootaloo, looking cross as usual, with a shocking black eye and the signs of fillyish tears upon her cheeks.

Scootaloo’s eyes widened and the cross look dropped away as she saw Sweetie weep. She took off, galloping towards them, and Sweetie lifted her head to see who was coming. Suddenly she was scrabbling, jumping to her hooves, pushing Rarity aside.

The adult ponies watched as the two fillies came together in a frantic, clinging embrace…

…broken only by Scootaloo pulling her head back to deliver a kiss to the weeping unicorn.

“Are you okay? I kinda need you to be okay,” said Scootaloo. “I had a feeling something was gonna be wrong.”

Sweetie wiped her eye with a hoof, blinking at Scootaloo. “Your eye! What happened to your eye?”

Scootaloo glowered and shrugged. “It’s nothing. Pretty much my fault. Don’t cry, please…”

Applejack was shaking her head in disbelief. “Don’t ever wanna grow up, huh?” she said, but Rarity shushed her, and Sweetie ignored her completely.

“Oh, Scootaloo!” she said. “We’re… not going to have a foal together.”

Scootaloo blinked. “What?”

“There is no foal. I’m not pregnant. Applejack said so.”

Scootaloo stared into space grimly, as three adult ponies looked on.

“Next time we’ll get it right!” she said, and three adult jaws dropped.

“Now hol’ on jes’ one minute!” stammered Applejack.

“You’re gonna do what?” demanded Flight Lightning, at the same time.

Rarity protested, “It really is not wise…”

Scootaloo glared at them, and began to argue. “What gives you the right to…” she began, but she in turn was cut off—not by a word, but by Sweetie Belle, who had gently put a dainty hoof to her lips, and looked Scootaloo earnestly in the eyes.

“No, Scootaloo,” she said. “I changed my mind. I don’t need that from you. Not right now.”

“But the PLAN…”

“It’s okay. We don’t need to go through with it. It will be okay,” soothed Sweetie Belle.

“If these ponies put you up to it…”

“They didn’t. I promise. I want… I want some things to not change, right now.”

Scootaloo pulled back to stare suspiciously at Sweetie. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But… okay, fine, then what do you want from me? All I want is for you to be okay. It’s kind of important! What can I do to help you?”

Sweetie trembled. She licked her lips, her eyes not leaving Scootaloo’s.

“Kiss me again…”

As Scootaloo leaned in to deliver a scorching kiss to her companion in Crusader pubescence, in glorious disregard of the viewing adults, and as Sweetie melted into her embrace, Flight Lightning rolled her eyes and said, “Right. I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

Applejack gasped and Rarity looked panicked, but before they could say a thing, Scootaloo had turned her head and was glaring at her mother.

“WHAT? Do you have a problem with it or something?”

Flight gazed back levelly, and rustled her wings a bit.

“Nah. What the hell. You’re still my kid. Maybe it’ll keep you out of other kinds of trouble.”

Applejack had got up, and walked over to the magenta pegasus. “Well, I’ll be. So you are Scootaloo’s Mom? I don’t believe I ever have seen you, in all my days!”

Flight gave a little half-smile, as Sweetie and Scootaloo walked over to a quiet corner of the Carousel Boutique, talking in low voices.

“Yeah—dunno about the unicorn kid, but me and Scoot are having some changes. She insisted on coming here. Said her friend might need help. I thought it was a good enough time to, uh, to say hello and all.”

“And you are?” said Rarity.

“Flight Lightning. I know you’re Rarity, and you, you’d be Applejack. I actually work with your marefriend…”

Applejack’s jaw dropped. “Flight L… YOU!” she gasped, remembering a conversation so many months ago. This was the pony who had kicked her foal while still in the womb…

“Applejack?” said Rarity. “Applejack!”

Applejack wasn’t listening. She’d run at Flight Lightning, reared to strike, and then whirled, obviously wanting to bring her devastating hind legs into play. Had she lashed out with a forehoof she’d have started the fight she intended, but her urge to deal more serious damage had slowed her just enough for two things to happen, accompanied by shrill filly screams as Scootaloo and Sweetie saw the violence break out.

One was Rarity reaching out with a magical grip and seizing her hoof while it was poised to kick, upsetting her balance. The other was Flight Lightning jumping back with a mad flapping of her powerful wings, yelling “Whoa, hey, STOP!”

Applejack struggled, balancing on three legs, trying to get her hoof free of Rarity’s desperate grip. “Why?” she barked.

“Rainbow Dash tried to save my kid’s life,” said Flight Lightning, and Applejack stopped struggling and listened.

“What did you say?”

“We’re cool—me and Dash, we’re cool. She totally tried to save my kid. Scoot was chasing her and flew way the hell up in the air, and got a cramp. Dropped like a rock. Dash turns around and powerdives, trying to reach her. Nearly made it, too. I owe Dash a hell of a lot. Us fighting, that’s history, I swear it is. She could have cratered if she didn’t pull out at the last moment… cratered, trying to save my kid. Fine, she’s my hero, okay?”

Applejack tried to process this, her face woebegone.

“Do ya think we could have five minutes without this sorta thing happening?” she said, weakly.

“It would be nice!” said Scootaloo. She and Sweetie Belle looked shaken. “Grownups suck!” she added.

The three adult ponies stared at each other, shame-faced.

“Naw,” said Applejack. “Naw, Scootaloo, that ain’t fair.” She gulped, steadying herself, taking a deep breath. “I’ll tell you what grownups do… Grownups rise above their problems, even when they’re big bad problems. Grownups find a way through, they don’t just go with their first impulse. Grownups forgive—an’ grownups, they work to build a safe place for all y’all ponies, even cantankerous ones. Like, well, uh… like me, I reckon.”

Flight Lightning sighed. “Yeah. Me too. Guilty.”

“I’d guessed that,” said Applejack wryly.

“Scoot’s turning out the same way, I can tell you.”

“Hey. C’mere, y’ purple varmint…”

Flight Lightning approached warily, but Applejack was in a mood to underscore her peaceful words. She hugged the haggard pegasus mare, careful to stay clear of the wings, and she smiled. “Are you gonna be friends with me and Rainbow, now?”

“Do I have to listen to her boasting?”

“Yes,” replied Applejack and Scootaloo, together. As they glanced at each other in startlement, Rarity added, “We certainly do, so you are obliged to lend moral support!”

“I’m sorry if it bugs ya,” said Applejack. “She can’t help it. Girl’s got a desperate need to be awesome. Half th’ time it’s even true, you know.”

Flight nodded, slowly. “It seems different once it’s more personal. I mean, all those times listening to her go on and on, but then when I saw her trying to reach Scoot in that powerdive… maybe there is some truth to all that bragging.”

“I’m gonna have to talk to her about that one,” said Applejack darkly. “She ain’t in no condition for such carryin’ on and that’s a fact. You say she din’t manage it? She pulled out, she din’t hurt herself?”

“That’s when I knew she had a heart,” said Flight Lightning. “She couldn’t help it. She had to save her foal. She was screaming, Scootaloo, no… The sound of her voice…” Flight shuddered.

“If she couldn’t save Scootaloo from fallin’, then who did?”

Flight Lightning looked down demurely, and rustled her powerful wings.

“More than one pony out saving their foal… Place was filthy with ‘em.”

Applejack slowly smiled. “Heh. Good.”

“Would you like tea?” suggested Rarity. “I have often found that ruffled spirits can be soothed by the serving of tea. Or spa treatments, of course.”

“Oh, Rarity!” said Sweetie Belle. “That’s your answer to everything!”

“Then you’ll admit,” said Rarity, “that some things never change?”

Sweetie Belle began smiling wider and wider, and then she’d run over and hugged Rarity’s hind leg, squeaking “I love you, Mommy!”

“Wait, what?” said Scootaloo.

“It’s been a mighty complicated day,” explained Applejack. Her expression darkened again. “Rarity, are you sure you’re safe? What with, you know, the fella that was here earlier? Do we need to do somethin’ about that?”

Rarity shook her head. “We do not.”

“But… well, it jes’ don’t seem right. How can you say that? What do you know that I don’t?”

Rarity’s gaze was steady and calm. “Perhaps I’ll tell you one day. I think I would like that—perhaps it would bring me a measure of peace. You must believe me, however. Daddy has gone home. He will not be a danger to Sweetie, or to anypony. Mother… has him.”

Applejack’s eyes widened. “Dear Celestia. You’re sayin’ you got the kinky bondage thing from your Mom?”

Rarity snorted. “Certainly not! She would be shocked at the suggestion! I am only saying that there are things you do not understand about Daddy. You don’t know him. There is no danger.”

Applejack’s eyes were wide.

“How can you be sure?”

She felt the shaking of the ground, heard the galloping hoofbeats, before she saw him.

Her mouth tightened, and her eyes narrowed, and she waited.

Before long, he burst in, his weight shaking the house, his eyes wide and dismayed, and she sighed—picking her words carefully, waiting for him to stop panting and settle down.

“Chased you away, did they?”

He nodded, extending his lower lip in a pout.

“I don’t want to see the tears right now. I told you to stay away. You knew this would happen…”

“Why can’t they be nicer to me?”

She gave him a slow, sad look. “Why should they?”

The hurt look was still fresh—it hadn’t changed a bit after all those years. She winced, trying to resist her sympathy, and she remembered as if no time had passed…

The years of bliss with ‘her big boy’, his devil-may-care attitude, the coltish charm that never faded. That stunted little horn, the endearingly silly hat he concealed it with, that big, big… not-horn.

The marriage, the foaling, the curious remark.

“Who would have thought a big kid like me could do that?” he’d said, marvelling at the new baby. “That’s got to be a rarity, for sure!”

And so she was.

And then… the gaining of weight, the filling out into the grown mare, the… loss of interest. He’d seemed ashamed, like he wasn’t supposed to be responding to her in that way. He’d put on weight and size as well, but there was something in the eyes that didn’t change, that hadn’t changed for all the time she’d known him.

Little details. His balking, that foolish refusal to take out the trash. His greed for food, the voraciousness, the inability to keep special treats around. He’d wolf them and then not admit it.

Still, he was always so good with little Rarity. He’d had endless time for her, playing silly games, to the point that she would tease them. “It’s like I’m raising two foals together!” And they’d laugh, sharing the joke.

And then, the dark times, when his cheerful open countenance was overcast and fretful. Rarity continued to be perfect, bringing home good grades and growing in confidence by the day, and meanwhile he skulked and smiled too widely, and something was up, and she didn’t dare even think of it. Some things were too dreadful to bear thinking about.

And then there was the day the dream died.

He was worse than ever, his knees positively shaking, that ingratiating smile a complete mockery, and she was almost at snapping point, ready to demand an explanation… when Rarity strolled in, with stagey nonchalance.

The world ended as her eyes took in the little char on the tip of Rarity’s horn. She knew in the pit of her churning guts that it wasn’t a school-colt who had put it there. She saw his terror, his grin freezing as Rarity made her move.

“Could we pick up a larger bed for my room, Mother? I feel I deserve one. Or shall I say—we deserve one?”

The brazenness. The screaming argument. Him sitting, frozen, not daring to leave or say a word as mare and filly fought with words of increasing savagery. The parting shot…

“What is your problem, Mother? Oh, don’t tell me, I already know—you’re jealous, because I am more beautiful than you! Well—it won’t work, you’ll just have to share!”

Filly Rarity had been so very wrong. There would be no more sharing of the handsome, hulking, boyish stallion.

That stallion sat looking at her, years later, with eyes still as innocent and youthful as the day they’d met, but terribly sad and disheartened. He gulped. He spoke.

“It’s hard not being with kids your own age…” He sniffled. “Forever…”

She sighed, and extended a foreleg in his direction, and he stumbled over and began to sob against her chest. She petted him, staring grimly into space. This was a Daddy that Rarity did not get to keep—for what that was worth.

She’d outgrown him, somehow. He was a good boy, inside. The trouble was, that worked literally. She had heard there was a pony at the hospital who was a dog, inside, and barked and chased things. There were times that she bitterly thought that dog would be a strangely suitable pet for him…

“Are you going to listen, the next time I tell you what is likely to happen?”

He sniffled again. “Yes—Mommy.”

“Can’t you leave her alone? I know you’ve promised me you’ll be good. On top of that, I know she doesn’t pursue you now, hasn’t for years. Nor should she! Why can’t you give it a rest?”

His tears were for himself, and himself alone. “I won’t do anything! I just wish I could look. Can’t I just look?”

She dropped her gaze, frustrated—and a strange impulse took her. “Listen. Honey. We’ve been together a long time…”

“Uh-huh,” he said, forlornly.

“And we’ve worked out our little arrangements, so you can play the little colt…”

He pouted. He didn’t like it when she said it, like that. Made it seem like pretending.

She bit her lip, and risked it. “Oh, honey… can’t I ever be the little filly? For you?”

Her eyes implored, quivering with vulnerability, as they met his… and his eyes were tragic as they met hers, then roamed up and down her mare-ly body, and returned, apologetic and sad.

“I really really really love you, Momm… uh, I mean, honey… but you just… don’t look right…”

Tears hid him, mercifully, from view. “Shit,” she cursed, helplessly.

“I wanna go fishing… fish don’t care how big a pony you are…”

She wiped her eyes brusquely with a hoof. To hell with it. The accomodation they’d worked out would continue. It always did. She had that little stubby horn of his, and the great big not-horn, and she had his heart—for what it was worth. It wasn’t a big heart, and it sure wasn’t an old and wise heart, but there was something forever charming about the unearthly innocence of it.

“Go,” she said, and leaned to kiss him. “Go fishing, honey. I’ll make dinner. If you’re good… Mommy will make cookies with you later…”

He shot her an inquisitive look.

She bestowed a sensuous, eyes-half-lidded look upon him, in return.

His tail flicked, and he sat a little straighter.

“I like cookies…”

“Go. Do your fishing. Everything is going to be okay.”

With obvious relief, he lumbered to his hooves and trotted off. He never seemed to tire of fishing, or his favorite dinners—so solid, so predictable. She watched his massive, well-muscled flanks recede: such a glorious chunk of stallion, and yet so strangely broken.

Her fate had been sealed the day she worked out she could pervert him. Rather than seeking girls ‘of his age’, he could be seduced by a special game, in which he was still himself as he understood it, but she was someone’s Mommy. He’d once told her that she was the queen of naughty. She didn’t tell him what he was the king of, but privately marvelled that young Rarity had ever been able to take him. It was no wonder she’d lost her filly mind and tried to steal him. Pity they’d had no sons to pass that thing on.

Instead, the madness was all hers, and the true fillies were safe—with a little caution and care, where appropriate.

And he did love her, in his way.

It would do.

Rainbow Dash

“Applejack!”

The country pony looked up, startled. “Rainbow! I was jes’ stackin’ some hay bales, honey, I was headed right in! You okay?”

Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, lumbering into the barn. “If you want to call this okay. Oh, sorry, I mean—if you have the NERVE to consider this okay…”

“Aw, honey. It can’t be much longer, I promise. Ah mean, look at you.”

“Don’t remind me!” griped Dash.

“Actually, that does remind me, Rainbow,” said Applejack. “I hear tell you been actin’ heroic. Before I deservingly beat you even more senseless than what ya already are… how about I hear it from you? What happened out there with Scootaloo, darlin’? Be honest.”

Dash cringed. “You heard about that already, huh?”

“Let me hear it from you.”

Rainbow Dash sighed. “Would you believe I was never really in danger?”

“Nope,” said Applejack, gently. “I’ll never believe that.”

Dash’s mouth was tight, pain in her eyes. “But that’s just it. I wasn’t. And that’s what really, really breaks my heart… and you can’t help.”

Applejack hesitated. “May I try?”

“No, listen, I don’t want you to help! Uh… don’t take that the wrong way? I don’t want to be helped. I made some choices, okay? I’m not sorry, either! That’s a really horrible thing to say, I can’t believe I’m saying it…”

“Easy, Dashie,” soothed Applejack, walking over to nuzzle her distressed mate. “How about you jes’ start tellin’ me? It’s okay if it don’t make sense.”

“I wish it didn’t,” grumbled Dash. She sighed again. “Okay. I went out to find Scootaloo. Thought I’d try that clubhouse of theirs.”

“Sound like a plan?” hazarded Applejack.

“Well, I wasn’t the only one with a plan,” said Dash. “She was doing that kid thing? You know, setting out on a grand journey with two sandwiches and a couple Daring Do comic books. I caught her before she got going, and I cornered her, told her I knew what she did.”

“An’ what did she have to say for herself?”

“Said it was my fault.”

Applejack gasped. “She whut?”

“Yeah. I, uh, told the kids some stuff…”

Applejack stared in astonishment at her flustered mate. “You did not go an’ tell Scootaloo to steal all sorts of things and tap Sweetie Belle’s lil’ tail. Uh… did you? But no, you cain’t have, when you heard about it you set out to scold that pegasus filly! What’s goin’ on, Dashie? She turned it around on you?”

Dash gulped. “Kinda. There was this time that I… well, I told them not to be narrow-minded. They wanted to know how I could be having your foal. I swear I didn’t get detailed or anything! But I guess it must have put ideas in their heads?”

“Of th’ Cutie Mark Crusaders?” snorted Applejack. “That’s a first.”

“Anyway, Scoots got in my face there, and I just wasn’t gonna deal with it. I’m sorry to say it, but I flew. I can still fly, you know, even if it’s like Rainbooming just to stand still now. I’m so heavy! And that was the problem.”

Applejack’s ears splayed out in distress. “You were too heavy? To fly safely?”

“I was too heavy to NOT fly safely…”

Applejack listened, watching the tears in Dash’s eyes.

“I got up pretty high, and I looked around. Then I notice that Scootaloo was so mad, she’d come up after me. She flew, Applejack, I couldn’t believe it. She was freakin’ pretty nearly cloud level, too. Or she was until she cramped up… She falls out of the sky like a little orange rock, screaming, and I just dove after her.”

Rainbow gulped again, remembering it. “Thing is—I wasn’t fast enough. I’d have to catch up to her, grab her, and pull out. Normally I can carry her no problem, but I just wasn’t diving fast enough. Then I feel that moment pass where I’d have been able to pull up carrying her extra weight. And then, I’m looking right at the point where I won’t be able to pull out myself, and I know in my gut that I’m already past the point where I could’ve saved Scootaloo…”

Applejack bit her lip, trying to see into Dash’s shamed, downcast eyes, her heart wrung by her beloved’s agony.

Dash looked up. “I saved Spy. And me, I guess, but I wasn’t thinking about that. But I was in this crazy dive straight at the ground, and I’m carrying a baby which is this heavy and trying to reach a filly who’s that heavy, and the time just ran out. I think I screamed too. I will never forget the look on her face when my wings flew out and left her to fall.”

Applejack trembled, and Dash glared tearfully at her. “I had to. I’d like to say Spy wiggled or kicked or something, but she didn’t need to. There wasn’t even a choice. Flight Lightning, she understood that, thank Celestia she was there, she’s gotten stupid fast since the last time I saw her fly…”

“That’s who saved Scootaloo, huh?” said Applejack.

“Yeah. She said it was okay, and I think she meant it… said that I saved my baby and she saved hers. But the thing is, if it wasn’t for her, I let Scootaloo die to save myself—and I can see you’re upset too, but don’t thank me, don’t say you’re glad, don’t say fucking anything! ‘Cos I don’t want to hear it. Ever.”

“I…” began Applejack.

“Seriously!” moaned Dash.

Applejack shook her head, and stubbornly began again. “I saw Scootaloo over at Carousel Boutique.”

Rainbow blinked. “What?”

“Kissin’ Sweetie Belle. Kissed her somethin’ fierce. Kinda like you kiss, if I’m honest…”

Dash’s eyes were wide, stricken.

“I reckon everythin’ is gonna be okay,” said Applejack. “Y’all forgive me for thinkin’ dead fillies don’t never kiss nopony like THAT.”

Rainbow Dash sniffled, and then allowed her beloved to approach, cuddling her, comforting and soothing.

“Poor Dashie,” said Applejack. “It really is goin’ to be okay…”

“What were you doing over there?”

“Toppin’ your story,” said Applejack, gravely.

Rainbow stared at her, confused. “What does that mean, topping it?”

“I sympathize with your feelin’s, sugar, and yes it’s quite a story, but all the same it weren’t the craziest thing to go down that day.”

“Oh, come on! I told you what happened—what could possibly be crazier than that?” sputtered Dash, outraged.

“Well… you know what Sweetie tried to do? All that filly-foalin’ nonsense? Care to guess what Rarity did with her?”

Dash thought. “Dressed her up in—no, wait, Rarity’s up to some crazy stuff. Whipped her and beat her and sent her to bed without any supper?”

“Naw. Gave birth to her.”

Dash’s jaw dropped. She glared. “And what’s THAT supposed to mean?”

“Means our Rarity learned all that stuff about foalin’ up close and personal. Ah repeats, Sweetie is Rarity’s baby. S’prised I never guessed it, to tell you the truth, but she musta had her mighty young.”

Dash squirmed. “Now wait a minute! That’s crazy talk, first of all, and if Rarity’s her Mom, who’s the father?”

Applejack gulped. “Uh… there’s the problem. Looks like it was Rarity’s daddy. He turned up, and I ain’t ashamed to say we run him outta there. That family ain’t right, Dashie. We gotta keep Rarity and Sweetie more safe. It’s worryin’.”

Dash looked into her eyes for a while, then sighed. “There’s a lot going on. I’m glad Scootaloo is okay. She was kissing Sweetie Belle, huh?”

“Swep’ her right off her hooves if ya ask me. It takes some ponies that way, specially th’ young ‘uns. They weren’t feelin’ no pain, I’ll tell you that.”

“Too much going on, if you ask ME,” complained Dash. “All this stuff, on top of you doing all that farming… we don’t even get to be together like we used to…”

“Ain’t we together now?”

Dash pouted. “I can’t even enjoy it. Scootaloo has me all upset, and I hurt all over, and my fucking tits are killing me…”

Applejack blinked. “Say what now? How can your darlin’ lil’ breasts do you any harm, Dashie?”

She got a glare. “I told you, they got all sore. And… whoa.” Dash looked down, and both pony breasts were dripping milk across her crotch, swollen to bursting.

Applejack’s eyes were wide. “Seem like you wanted me to… uh, git after you that way. We never did. Remember? Apple Bloom turned up.” She looked around, furtively, but there was nobody else in or near the barn. “What’s that like? I mean—does it hurt, or is it makin’ you all kinky and stuff, or what?”

Rainbow’s expression was exasperated. “Kinky would be an improvement! It’s just so uncomfortable. Can’t you at least, I don’t know, squeeze them or something? That might hurt worse, though. But, anything! Since you won’t do the obvious thing.”

“Ya figure it’s too kinky for my blood?”

Dash scowled. “You totally balked. I saw you.”

“Well, now…” said Applejack speculatively. “Maybe I was hasty.” She looked around furtively again, and then whispered, “You’re right. We ain’t been cozy enough lately. Let’s see where this goes, my love. Ain’t like I haven’t enjoyed your cute lil’ titties before…”

Dash’s eyes widened. “Wow. You’re really gonna… eee! Hurry, I can’t wait!”

Applejack chuckled as Dash lolled onto her back, legs spread, more milk squirting out of those pert blue nipples. “There’s my Dashie! Got you horny, did I?”

“Weren’t you listening?” griped Rainbow. “They’re really sore! Come on, take some of the pressure off, please!” She paused a moment, and added, “Maybe I can get horny once I stop feeling so terrible. I’ll try, okay? I’m serious, get sucking!”

Applejack blinked. “That bad!” She nosed up to Dash’s crotch, fascinated, and licked the firm contour of the rightmost breast, noticing how firm it was in its swollen condition—and saw more milk ooze out, as Dash whimpered.

“Sorry! Sorry!”

“JUST…” began Dash, but then let the breath out in a deep sigh—for Applejack had sprung into action. Her warm lips latched onto Dash’s nipple with a suction that pulled part of Dash’s breast into Applejack’s mouth, and Rainbow felt her beloved draining her, a gout of milk gushing through her nipple as Applejack sucked away, good and hard.

“Ohhhhhmygosh…”

Applejack’s eyes crossed slightly, as she tried to process the intensity of the sensation. Pegasus milk was outrageously rich! It was a complicated, bold flavor—strangely thin, sweet but also more bitter than she’d expected, with faint peculiar overtones, perhaps of vital minerals and nutrients. She felt Dashie shudder beneath her, and sucked harder, allowing her hooves to knead those dainty, engorged breasts, and Dash shot a forehoof down and pushed hers away.

“No… they’re sore, don’t poke, just… ohhh yes, that’s the way!”

Applejack gulped, resisting a tendency to gag on the vivid, unfamiliar flavor, forcing herself to suck all the milk out of Dashie if that was what it would take to give her relief. She wondered what it felt like, having your tits become a faucet like that—Rainbow was managing a pretty thick and continuous jet of fluid into Applejack’s mouth, quivering with relief as her love drank so deeply from her fount of mother’s milk. Applejack took a moment to lick up some of the spillage, and smiled up at her mate. “That any better?”

“Ohhh yeah. Wow. When I get you to do something, Applejack, boy do you ever do it! That felt amazing.”

“Think it’ll get you horny?” teased Applejack. “Everything makes you horny, don’t it?”

“I dunno,” crooned Dash. “Ngh! Do it more!”

Applejack lowered her face to Dash’s crotch again. She took a moment to lick up Dash’s labia, though they were not winking at her, and then returned to the breast she’d been working on, latching on and sucking another copious jet of milk through Rainbow’s nipple…

“Rrrgh! Fucking cramps!”

“Aw,” smiled Applejack. She bent down to Dash’s other breast to even them out… and a gush of yellowish fluid burst forth from Rainbow Dash’s vagina, drenching her tail and the straw-covered dirt that served as a barn floor.

Applejack scrambled back in alarm, as Rainbow squirmed and cried out, “Aggh!”

“Uh… that weren’t no female ejaculation, sugarcube, was it?”

A small bubble of glistening placenta appeared at Dash’s vagina, poking out like some obscene egg, then emerging with another gout of fluid. As Applejack watched, horrified, Dash stiffened, and the blob of placenta was joined by the end of a tiny hoof sticking out of her pussy.

“Oh my gosh!” squeaked Applejack. “I’ll jes’ go get Granny…”

“Noooo! Don’t leave me AHH!” screamed Dash, tensing up again. The hoof shifted, poking out half an inch, then withdrawing back into her again when she rested.

“But I…” said Applejack, and then set her jaw. “Give me three seconds, ain’t leavin’ you!” She galloped to the door of the barn, and yelled as loud as she could, “GRANNY! ANYPONY! IT’S HAPPENIN’!” Then, she turned and ran back to Dash’s side. “What mus’ I do?”

“Well, I don’t fucking know!” cried Dash. “I’m just AAAUGH!” She twisted on the ground, trying to lift herself, and rolled onto her belly, getting her hooves under her, struggling to rise.

“Whoa! Whoa!” yelled Applejack. “Ya rollin’ onto the foal, honey, you’ll crush him…” She trailed off, watching Dash’s body convulse again, squeezing fiercely at the foal, another inch of hoof protruding only to retreat back inside again as she sagged.

Applejack gulped. “Uh, never mind, weren’t thinkin’ straight…”

Rainbow Dash couldn’t settle to any position anymore. She’d lie on her side, stiffen, and the pain would be so bad that she’d roll onto her belly, which would make it worse, and she’d flop onto her side again, shuddering and sweating. Then another contraction would hit, and she’d find herself struggling to get up, and once she even managed it and stood, shaking like a leaf, her body a fist around a no longer welcome pony foal, her mind reeling with the urgency and desperation to act, and a little hoof sticking out of her pussy mockingly.

She stood for another few seconds, and then flung herself down onto the straw, flopping onto her side as instinct demanded. She knew that action would hurt, but there were no words for how much it hurt anyway, and her body would not be denied this expulsion.

Rainbow gritted her teeth. The time had come. Her vision blurred as, once more, her body convulsed, crushing down onto her womb in an agonizing contraction that shoved the huge, solid bulk of Northern Spy downwards toward her pelvis. Then the contraction subsided, and she felt Spy shift back, deeper inside her again.

Applejack was down between her legs, and Dash felt a tugging. She had one of Spy’s forehooves between her teeth and was hauling on it, cautiously. It didn’t do much for Spy was just wedged too tight—Dash felt the foal’s shoulder drawn forward, and then Applejack cursed, for Spy had pulled that hoof back—Dash felt a wriggling up in her pelvis, the foal seemingly trying to get comfortable in its new position, and tuck its hooves back inside.

“Oh fuck you…” wailed Dash.

“Sorry!” said Applejack. “Tryn’a help!”

“Not you!” snarled Dash. “Fuckin’ Spy! No you RGH! don’t! You get GAH! out! NOW!”

Rainbow Dash squealed, rocked by another contraction, and she writhed on the barn floor, trying to rise, nearly getting to her hooves and then lying right back down on her side again. Nothing was helping, not even a little bit, and she found herself sticking all her legs out rigidly, straining with Spy’s little hooves sticking out of her cunt, sagging for a moment, then going totally rigid and straining again.

“What mus’ I do?” pleaded Applejack.

“Shut the FUCK UP!”

Rainbow Dash saw red. It was the color of unbearable agony, and it was the barrier she had to burst through in order to make this experience be over. Spy was done living inside her body. Time was up. Rainbow strained again, going purple, getting a nosebleed that painted the straw red next to her contorted face as that impossible bulk wedged down into her pelvis again…

“I’m here, Dashie, I’m here…”

It seemed like her hind end would surely have to crack open, explode from the horrible pressure. Somehow, it didn’t happen, and through a haze of brutal pain Dash felt that bulk gradually shift lower, prying her body wide… the pain going beyond the comprehensible and then escalating somehow, no longer possible to gauge or measure, searing every nerve in a sea of fire from her splitting pelvis to the top of her head, that felt like it was coming off…

“Oh my gosh, keep goin’ Dashie, that’s his head!”

“Applejack!” came another voice, a cranky old voice. “Did you do anything?”

“I din’t, Granny! I tried pullin’ but th’ foal weren’t havin’ none of it!”

“Don’t! Hold your peace! You set and let this happen, no meddlin’!”

Rainbow screamed again, racked with another horrific contraction. It was like all those weeks and months of appalling fake contractions, only a thousand times worse. Not for Rainbow Dash, the caution of Fluttershy—not for her, the avoiding of physical effort, the withdrawal into peacefulness. Dash had tried to carry on as if she was the same as ever, punished at every turn with those awful fake contractions, and now the toughened muscles clamped down grimly, built up like her wing muscles over the endless months of suffering, and they would not be denied their moment.

Her psyche was a tiny speck of awareness drowning in a sea of fiery agony, but the cause was plain, and now she understood both consciously and instinctively what she had to do. Her legs stuck out like stilts, and she no longer flopped around trying to rise, she just bore down grimly and threw everything she had behind the next few contractions as they locked down like a vise, gradually expelling Northern Spy through a hole obviously unfit for the purpose.

“AAAAAOOUT!” screamed Rainbow Dash, white-hot rage in her voice.

“Sounds like your Ma,” came Granny Smith’s voice, with satisfaction.

Rainbow’s heart pounded. She could feel how bad the next bit was going to be. The head was bad enough, but… and the contraction hit, and her pelvis and pussy seemed to creak from the strain as the foal’s shoulders and body were shoved into that narrow aperture.

She shrieked hoarsely, thrashing her head against the straw.

Dimly, she heard Applejack wail, “It’s hurting her!”

“No shit it is, girl!” snapped Granny Smith, “You try it sometime!”

At that, Applejack fell silent again, or perhaps it was just impossible to hear anything beyond the screaming and the roaring in Dash’s ears, every muscle tense as a board, legs sticking out rigidly as that impossible bulk shoved inch by inch through where it could not go and she could not rest or breathe while it split her open so horribly and it crammed like a cork in a bottle if bottles screamed and she bared her teeth and struggled with every fiber of her being to keep it moving, to get it out of her and not be stuck at this most awful of moments with a foal half out of her and stuck at its widest point…

There was a huge agonizing shifting, like her entire body was emptying out.

There was an awful scraping that seemed to grate her very bones.

There was movement—and more movement—and it got less hard to make that movement happen. Rainbow Dash realized that the foal’s shoulders and chest were out.

Sudden mad hysterical straining and pushing, as her body recognized the hard part was over—as she squirted the waist and then the hind legs of her foal out in a grotesque slither and gush of fluids, breathlessly and frantically expelling every bit of baby pony from her body, to cries of excitement from the attending mares.

“Got ‘im!” cried Granny Smith, with satisfaction.

“Oh, Dashie, you did it!” quavered Applejack.

Rainbow Dash felt gutted and hollowed out, her insides weirdly empty, the pain warring with a surge of endorphins that laid her flat on the ground, and she sprawled like a dead pony with legs and wings splayed across the straw—panting, totally limp, her mind a blank as she recovered from her big moment.

“Ah’ll get all that stuff offa him in a jiffy!” came Applejack’s voice.

“What?” squawked Granny. “No! Don’t touch nothin’! Not right now! Just clear his face, let ‘im breathe, no more’n that… don’t you interfere…”

Dash stared at nothing. So, Spy played a trick on her? Granny was saying ‘his’ and ‘him’. So had Applejack. But Applejack had said that when only a head was showing, when only a hoof was showing, and Rainbow’d had a feeling about it for months…

“Yeah, go ahead an’ look—no, Ah will, you ain’t got the experience, girl.”

Rainbow felt motion down behind her butt, and heard a snort of surprise.

“Don’t know why I said ‘his’, maybe it’s ‘cause when I came in you was sayin’ it, Applejack. That’s a filly you got there…”

Rainbow stared into space, and smiled. She was right.

Then, she kicked and struggled and twisted herself around, craning her neck regardless of how wobbly she felt, because suddenly she just had to see.

Green, light green. The foal was a pale green color, except there was a hint of mane and tail, still slicked down with amniotic fluids and sealed up in placenta. It looked like the mane and tail was cerulean blue, like her own body. Pale green and pale blue for Northern Spy, pale green like the apple (or like Granny, wise old Granny) and pale blue like the ice of the North…

The foal’s head twisted toward her, and Dash found herself staring into a pair of huge, wide, deep, ruby eyes just like her own, eyes that clung to her gaze in shock and confusion. A cute little nose that sniffed at hers…

Rainbow Dash gulped. “Yeah,” she said to her filly, in a scratchy, unsteady voice. “It’s me.”

Spy blinked her big ruby eyes, and then let them close for a moment and nuzzled Dash’s face unsteadily. Behind her, Dash saw Applejack’s lip quiver, her eyes flood with tears, and she clung to Granny impetuously, sobbing out loud.

Granny stood about three seconds of it. “That’ll do! Git off, you daft creature! Soppy critter, honestly, who’d a thunk it, y’ turned stallion on us all of a sudden?”

“Hey!” squeaked Rainbow, and coughed, her throat raspy from all that screaming. “Hey, c’mere, AJ, come here! Atta girl…”

Applejack leaned down, face wreathed in a big wobbly sentimental smile, and Rainbow looked up at her and smiled back. “I did it…”

Hearing this, Northern Spy shook her tiny head and butted it against Dash’s, who corrected herself. “Uh, make that WE did it?”

“Y’ sure did,” sighed Applejack. “Land sakes!”

She nuzzled Dash’s sweet, haggard face, and turned to gaze adoringly at their filly. Spy stood about three seconds of that, and then squeezed her eyes shut, twisting away and struggling to rise.

“Aww… she’s tryin’ ta stand up!”

“Wait a minute or two and she mos’ likely will do just that,” suggested Granny Smith, her tone softer than usual. She had a thought, and snapped more curtly, “At her own pace, don’t you rush her!”

Applejack’s eyes narrowed. She turned, and said, “How come you’re extra cranky, Granny? We’re doin’ the best we kin.”

“How you know Ah’m extra cranky, child? Y’ever seed me birthin’ foals afore?”

Applejack blinked. “Nope. Weren’t there for Apple Bloom. Ain’t you a mite touchy? Seems like th’ hard part’s over.”

Granny squinted at her, and then sagged a bit. “Mebbe. Iffen y’ want t’ know the truth of it… this little blue wingy pony, she feels like my very own grandchild too.” She glanced at Spy, who was still trying to stand.

The tiny filly was concentrating fiercely, sticking out spindly legs, rocking back and forth, and in a series of diminutive heaves and lurches, she shoved her little legs under her, and tottered for a moment as the adult ponies held their breath… wobbling on her own tiny hooves, and standing for the first time. She lifted her head, and those ruby eyes shone, and the little mouth formed a heartmeltingly adorable smile, for just a moment. Then, Spy’s tentative balance gave up the ghost, and over she went with a light flump, into the straw.

Granny Smith began grinning harder and harder, her eyes twinkling as the newborn filly immediately began struggling to get up again, though dizzy from that first attempt.

“Besides, can’t blame me for fussin’. That there’s an Apple filly through an’ through. Jes’ look at her go!”

“How come she’s so skinny?” asked Applejack. “Them Cake babies was plump as anythin’!”

“Amazin’, ain’t it? You wait. Once she gets some food in her…”

“I wanna stand up too,” said Rainbow Dash. “I should be standing up.” She turned to Granny. “Can I stand up?”

Granny’s eyes twinkled. “Right on schedule…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Dash.

“Please yourself, I ain’t stoppin’ ya…”

Rainbow glared at the old mare, and heaved herself over onto her belly, legs outstretched. With a grunt, she sat up, then threw her weight forwards and lifted her hindquarters, wings flaring out and flapping vigorously. Beside her, Spy’s eyes widened, and the filly tried to do likewise, but her hindquarters toppled sideways and she fell against Dash’s legs in an awkward sprawl of gangly limbs. Spy gave a little snort, thumped the ground with a forehoof in apparent frustration, and resumed her efforts.

“Betcha next time she’ll… ah!” said Granny Smith, with satisfaction.

Northern Spy had copied the motions, and stood on her four hooves again. She lifted her head triumphantly, and immediately staggered to the side, her hindleg flying out to catch her fall—and Spy stood, wide-eyed, braced like a tripod, panting excited breaths.

“Aw, precious!” squealed Applejack, for Spy had lifted a tiny forehoof, looking around expectantly. “What’s she lookin’ fer?”

Granny Smith snorted. “You tetched in th’ head, girl? What you think she’s lookin’ fer?”

Applejack blushed. “Oh, for Pete’s sake. Buck me in th’ head an’ get my brain started…” she began, and then gasped, and met Dash’s eyes, which widened.

“They do that,” said Granny Smith, wisely, for Rainbow had begin pacing in a circle, trying to rotate herself. “I remember when I had your mother, there was this pow’ful urge to…” She trailed off. “Well, what the hay?”

Northern Spy was sniffing the air, and pursuing Dash as she turned, dipping her head and stumbling faster and faster. Dash rotated quicker, shooting panicky glances at Applejack who was scarlet and speechless, but it didn’t help—the tiny green filly with the blue mane kept at it, stepping lively, unexpectedly moving faster and faster with shocking agility and a look of fierce determination, zeroing in on that one pony breast—the one that seemed inexplicably less swollen with milk. Finally, Rainbow pranced, coming face to face with her foal for a moment, and then presenting her other side. Spy swooped in under Dash’s belly, and latched onto her other breast, and then the only sound was the silence of two embarrassed adult mares and the gulping and swallowing of a newborn filly.

Granny Smith blinked in consternation. “Now whut was THAT all about?”

Applejack gulped. Her eyes shifted left, then right.

“Nothin’…”

Their attention was drawn by Rainbow’s deep sighs. “Ohhh yeah. That’s better…”

Granny nodded. “It come as quite a relief, I can tell you! Look at that tail go!” Spy’s tail was twirling delightedly as she guzzled pegasus milk. “Why, she’s a reg’lar… hm, hello, now who might you be?”

Granny was staring at the barn door, and when Applejack and Rainbow Dash looked that way, they spotted a new face. It was a magenta pony with pale green mane—Flight Lightning, looking in on them.

“Hey,” said Dash.

“Hey,” replied Flight.

“Come in. No, seriously…”

Flight Lightning hesitated, then walked in, staring at Dash and her suckling foal. “I wanted to check and see if you were okay…”

“Most of me is,” said Dash wryly. “Some parts have definitely had better days, though.”

“I know, right? I’m not likely to forget that,” said Flight. She leaned closer, and whispered, “…totally worth it.”

“Oh yeah,” said Dash. “Or… well…” She sighed. “I feel like shit, Flight, what the hell?”

Granny Smith opened her mouth to rebuke the language, but Applejack caught her eye, and the old mare subsided, grumbling.

The interplay wasn’t lost on Flight Lightning, who chose her words carefully. “Same thing happened to me, Dash. Fly steady for the next couple days, okay? Your emotions are gonna be doing outside loops for a little while. Mine did.”

Dash nodded slowly. “Yeah… okay.”

“It’s a beautiful kid,” said Flight. “Colt or a filly?”

“Filly,” said Dash.

“Beautiful kid,” repeated Flight. She gulped, tearing up. “You take care of her. And you take care of yourself, okay?”

Dash blinked. “What—you’re leaving?”

Flight looked angry and sad. “You’ve got your people around you, Dash, you’re good. I should hit the clouds…”

“Whoa, hey,” said Dash, “having Applejack and Granny here means you’re not welcome? Where else would they be? Didn’t you have your friends around when you had Scootaloo?”

Flight Lightning laughed, bitterly. “No. I was out near the bluffs by Whitetail Woods. I found a big cloud and I had Scoot and that’s when I knew I was in deep shit… uh, sorry, ma’am. Trouble.”

“How come?”

“Scoot can’t walk on clouds. She fell right through. She was hanging out of the bottom of the cloud by the umbilical cord—and then it broke. I dove for her, I still don’t know how I managed it but I did.”

“Oh my gosh!” squeaked Dash.

“It was just us out there. Then when I got her home, darling husband took one look and he knew things weren’t the way he thought—and he was history, he was gone. He’d expected something different. And it was just us, again.” Flight glanced sidelong at Dash. “You’ve got your loving family around you and everything is fine. That’s how it’s supposed to be, Dash, appreciate it.”

“And you. I’ve got you with me, right? I don’t have to have you mad at me, you don’t have to leave,” said Rainbow earnestly. “I have you here with me. Right? …please?”

This idea took Flight Lightning by surprise. She blinked, her mouth falling open. “Uhhhh… the fuck are you talking about, Dash? Sorry, ma’am… Having me here is supposed to be good?”

Rainbow didn’t blink, she kept staring into Flight’s eyes.

“You came out here just to see if I was okay.”

“True,” admitted Flight.

“If only I’d known,” said Rainbow, “I would have been there with you, when you had Scootaloo. Seriously. You didn’t have to be that alone, Flight.” She paused. “You don’t have to.”

Flight Lightning gulped. “Yeah. Uh… yeah. Wow. There’s a lot of things we should’ve done differently, you and me.”

“Let’s start now!”

Flight Lightning blinked. “I swear, Dash, maybe my kid is right about you. You’re fucking amazing.” She glanced at Granny Smith in alarm. “Sorry!”

Granny glared crankily at her. “Foolish youngsters! You ain’t telling us anything we din’t know already. This little wingy pony here,” she said, and took a dramatic breath, “is fucking amazing.”

Applejack gasped. “Granny!”

“Don’t wear it out! Now I done said it so you don’t have to. I sincerely hope that’s an end to the cussin’ and carryin’ on! Do we understand each other?”

“Yes ma’am!” said Flight Lightning.

“Now, everypony settle down!” ordered Granny. “We’ve had enough excitement! That there foal is gonna nap, and before y’ know it she’ll be up again, then napping again—Rainbow dear, I hope you done got some good sleep on account of that’s the last you’ll have for a while…”

“Good point,” said Flight Lightning. “She’s not making that up. If there’s anything I can do to help, Dash… but yeah, you’re on the spot for a while. Unless your marefriend is lactating? That would be freaking sweet, I’d have killed for that some days.”

Applejack shook her head. “Naw. Unless Twi knows some kinda spell to do it.”

They fell silent, hearing nothing but the faint drumming of hooves in the distance.

“We should ask her,” said Dash.

Another pause, the wind in the trees, the sound of Northern Spy nursing on Rainbow Dash, the approaching hooves.

Rainbow considered. “I should be good for a while, though…”

“Who’s comin’?” said Applejack.

“Gotta be an earth pony, or maybe a unicorn,” said Flight Lightning. “If it was a pegasus going that fast, they’d be flying…”

“They’re comin’ here,” said Granny Smith. “Hello! Who’s there?”

The hoofbeats approached without slowing, and then she was upon them, bursting in through the open barn door.

Applejack, Rainbow Dash, Granny and Flight Lightning froze, staring in shock at Pinkie Pie, who stood panting and gasping for breath in front of them, too exhausted to speak, staring back wildly.

The terror and dismay in her eyes turned their blood to water.

It could only mean… Fluttershy.

Fluttershy

It had been a quiet afternoon, elsewhere in Ponyville.

Vinyl Scratch gazed levelly at Octavia. “I’m just worried you’re not taking this seriously enough.”

“But, Scratchie!”

“No, listen!” said Vinyl. “I could still try to find somepony else. I know you want to help, but there’s a lot at stake. And don’t pout! It’s not about your looks, Tavi, I swear it’s not. I could do it, but I’ve got to be in the castle showing Lyra where to go. She can’t get in unless I say she’s my roadie, so it has to be me on the inside…”

“But what do you need from me, Scratchie?”

Vinyl narrowed her eyes. “I’ve been giving you the wrong lessons.”

Octavia pouted, again. “That one pegasus gentleman didn’t think so.”

“Listen. We’re talking about a Guard—a Royal Guard. It’s probably too much to expect that you can get him away from his post, but you’d have to hold his attention for long enough that he doesn’t look around too much—without making him suspicious. Tavi, it’s not necessarily even about being sexy, and yes you are, before you ask. Do you really think you can do this?”

Octavia bridled, and fixed Vinyl with a haughty stare, nostrils flaring in offense, and Vinyl couldn’t help but gasp—her elegant friend’s deep violet gaze commanded, even required eye contact. Although Tavi was her best friend in the world, still Vinyl couldn’t look away—even when another pony galloped wildly past them on some desperate mission.

Vinyl blinked. “Was that Pinkie Pie?”

“I’m not sure,” admitted Octavia. “Like that, Scratchie?”

Vinyl Scratch narrowed her eyes, studying her friend.

“Maybe…”

Pinkie Pie had run on, hooves pounding the earth desperately, swerving down the road toward Sweet Apple Acres, racing into the farmhouse only to see it empty, whirling without catching a breath and rushing from the house without looking back, heading for the fields and seeing the barn door open and galloping straight in to stand wild-eyed and frothing and unable to speak for an awful moment.

They stared at her, Applejack and Rainbow Dash and Granny Smith and Flight Lightning. The tiny green foal sucking on Dashie’s tit didn’t look up. Pinkie fought for breath.

Rainbow Dash laughed nervously. “Pinkie, you look worse than me! Did you run here? If you need to move really fast, how come you can’t zip from place to place like when you kept following me and Gilda?”

That got a reaction. Pinkie heaved a lungful of air, and vented it in a pitiful cry.

“Because this isn’t funny!”

Rainbow blinked, but Applejack was already speaking. “What’s th’ matter, honey? It’s Fluttershy, ain’t it? You need our help? It’s her time?”

Pinkie shook her head, frantically. “It started to happen but then it’s gone all wrong and we don’t know why it isn’t working…”

Granny Smith’s full attention landed on Pinkie, and the gimlet eyes were unblinking.

“And Twilight Sparkle came but she isn’t sure what to do, and Fluttershy kept kicking and struggling but then she stopped and won’t look at me and she’s just staring at nothing now…”

Granny Smith began to go pale.

“And Trixie also came and she brought a book but it said we should see a hoof and there isn’t one…”

Granny Smith was gone—she hadn’t waited one second longer. She had run straight out the door without waiting for the others.

Suddenly, all was chaos. Northern Spy had lifted her head to look around. She was peering under Applejack’s belly and sniffing, but Applejack danced aside calling out, “Dashie, you take care of Spy! Stay here!”

“Oh, hurry, hurry!” squealed Pinkie.

“I can get the old lady there quicker,” said Flight Lightning, and then hesitated. “Uh—where is it?”

“Fluttershy’s cottage!” cried Pinkie.

“Fluttershy’s cottage!” said Applejack, and charged off, Spy looking shocked as she galloped away, Pinkie right beside her.

Flight Lightning bolted out of the barn after them, taking wing almost before she’d cleared the door.

Rainbow Dash barely caught Northern Spy, catching her tiny scrap of a tail in firm pegasus teeth. “Whoa there! You heard them! Or, well, I heard them. We gotta stay here, Spy, you’re a baby! How about some more milk? Huh?”

Spy turned her little head and fixed Dash with a shocked, wide-eyed look, and continued to pull against Dash’s grip.

“Consarn crazy flying ponies!” cursed Granny.

“Yeah, well, you’re welcome! Stupid old lady!” griped Flight Lightning.

Granny balanced awkwardly on Flight’s back, clinging for dear life—the magenta pegasus had swooped under her and carried her away, only to learn that Granny disapproved of aerial transport.

“Are we there yet?”

“Quicker than you could run… there!”

Flight swooped down to Fluttershy’s doorstep, and Granny tumbled off her, staggering and dizzy. The door hung open, and inside, various magic glows filled the room. Seeing this, Granny tottered forth, crying out “What did you do? What did you DO?”

Twilight whirled around. “Granny!” She gulped. “I haven’t done anything, because I don’t understand what’s happening…”

“Don’t do nothin’!” barked Granny. “Keep yer damn magic out of there, foals is delicate!” She instantly turned from Twilight, ignoring her, focussing all her attention on the mare who lay limply on the floor of the cottage.

Fluttershy was vast and sprawled on her side, unmoving, but seemed otherwise unaffected. She breathed shallowly, her eyes rolled back in her head, her expression suggesting pain so great that she’d somehow gone away, unable to cope. Granny glared harshly at that expression, finding it unsatisfactory.

“She ain’t fightin’ for it—an’ labor’s barely started, damn it!”

“It says in the book that if it’s a thing called red bag, it’s very serious…”

Granny glared at Twilight. “Mind your own business! Bringin’ books into a thing like this, you ought to be ashamed of yerself!”

Twilight’s lip quivered. “We are trying to help! She’s in so much pain already and we haven’t even seen the amniotic sac break yet…”

Granny glowered. “Shoulda looked into this afore. Can’t be everywhere. You hold your peace, child. Since the book ain’t told you, I will—it may be a mercy this pony’s water hasn’t broken yet.”

Trixie nuzzled Twilight comfortingly, and turned to Granny. “Why?”

“Things happen mighty quick once th’ water breaks,” said Granny, “and that’s when you find out if somepony’s gonna die a-birthin’.”

This was too much for Pinkie. She let out a wail and rushed to Fluttershy, lifting her limp head and cuddling it. “Noooo!”

A baby squirrel peered around the edge of the door, and saw Pinkie weeping and Fluttershy collapsed on the floor. It gave a high-pitched squeal and rushed in to hug her limp fore-hoof, only to be seized by the mother squirrel, who looked extremely worried. She’d been lurking around the doorway with a small circle of somber animals, and she dragged the baby back out of the house again, though he struggled and fought. As the mother squirrel pulled the baby out of view, Angel Bunny peered around the side of the door, just for a moment. He looked stunned, lost. Behind him, the baby squirrel squealed again in frantic distress.

At this, the butter-yellow pegasus mare stirred. She muttered, “Calm… calm…” and then tensed, with a look of utter terror, and her eyes rolled back again.

“DO something!” screamed Pinkie.

“She’s never foaled before,” said Granny. “She been active?”

Pinkie shook her head frantically. “She doesn’t like moving around, because it gives her cramps…”

Granny sighed. “You let her not move around? That what yer tellin’ me?”

Pinkie was trembling. “I love her… I can’t stand to see her in pain.”

“This is not gonna be your day,” said Granny levelly, and Pinkie grew pale. Granny turned. “Applejack!”

“Yep!” replied her granddaughter.

“Please take this consarned silly filly over somewheres out of the way, and hang onto her so she don’t get in MY way, while I tend to this other consarned silly filly…”

“What can we do?” asked Twilight, Trixie pressing close to her side.

Granny gave them a sour look. “Stay even farther out of my way. An’ git that book outta my sight!”

Applejack had already taken Pinkie aside—the old mare’s grumpiness was strangely reassuring, and Pinkie went willingly, to be held in a sturdy and determined embrace. Twilight wasn’t as quick to comply, saying, “We want to help! Shouldn’t we get, um… a basin of water, in case you need to wash your hooves before exploring the vagina?”

Granny glowered. “Hark to the experts in exploring th’ vagina!” She considered for a moment, and said, “That ain’t a bad idea, child. Shouldn’t be needful, but all th’ same… good thinkin’, fetch me that water, nice an’ hot.”

Fluttershy tensed, and writhed briefly on the floor, and suddenly a gush of faintly yellowish fluid burst from her vagina.

“Hah! Din’t mean you, girl!” said Granny. “All righty, hop to it, young Twilight—it’s all comin’ out in a jiffy now!”

Twilight and Trixie rushed for Fluttershy’s kitchen, horns glowing as they levitated a large pot and began running water into it. Applejack hung on tightly to Pinkie, who trembled and stared with huge, frightened eyes. Fluttershy had gone limp again, and Granny prodded her butt with a hoof. “Hyah! Push, girl! You ain’t felt nothin’ yet! Your mama did it for you, come on an’ push!”

In the kitchen, Twilight argued with Trixie. “Yes, I know, but we have to use the stove! You heard her, she doesn’t even like us being here, because of our magic…”

Granny ignored them, staring at Fluttershy’s hindquarters. “We’ll be seein’ a hoof around… about…”

Nothing happened. Granny whacked Fluttershy’s rump, which wobbled. “Push, damn you!”

Fluttershy sobbed, and for a moment her legs and wings stuck out stiffly as she strained, but then she went limp again, and no hoof appeared.

“For that matter,” said the old lady, “where’s that bubble? Shoulda come right after that water breakin’.” She considered this. “That hot water ready?” she called. “Not that I’m gonna need it, perish th’ thought, jes… askin’?”

Trixie appeared, looking angry, levitating the large pot of water. She set it down in front of Granny, staring her in the eye, and then concentrated, gritting her teeth with effort, her horn glowing brightly. The water roiled, and began to steam. Trixie stopped before it was boiling, and dropped her head, panting with the exertion.

“Thankee,” said Granny Smith, wryly. She hastily washed her hooves, all the while staring at Fluttershy’s hindquarters and talking to herself. “If dear old Daisy Chain was here, she’d have this lil’ thing up an’ pushin’ in no time. Well, maybe I ain’t Daisy Chain but I ain’t ever lost a mare, not through foalin’, and I am derned if I’m gonna start now…”

“Who’s Daisy Chain?” said Pinkie, from where Applejack held her.

Granny lifted an eyebrow. “Best midwife ever to stand on four hooves. Skinny lil’ thing. She could get both forelegs in there if she had to. Derndest thing. We won’t be needin’ that skill, I hope!”

Pinkie looked a little sick at the prospect of anyone shoving two pony legs up the Fluttershy vagina she so adored. “Where is she? Can you bring her, if we need her?”

“Nope. Daid. Older’n me, she were.”

Fluttershy lay as if dead. Granny glowered, and jabbed her rump with her now-clean forehoof. “You git pushin’ this instant, young lady! You want me to do that sort ‘a thing? Do you? Show me a damn foal hoof or I’m goin’ in after him, so help me Celestia!”

The reaction she got wasn’t what she expected. Fluttershy wailed piteously, and strained for all she was worth, but no hoof appeared.

Granny waited for another five seconds.

“Warned you fair an’ square. Here comes Granny!”

She bent down, and pressed one wizened old hoof to Fluttershy’s vagina, already drenched in amniotic fluids, and the ponies watched in fascinated horror as Granny’s hoof steadily penetrated their friend. The hoof went deeper and deeper, and then stopped, and Granny froze, going pale, falling silent.

Finally Applejack said it. “What is it, Granny? What do ya feel in there?”

Granny’s head turned. A tear was in her eye.

“A tail…”

Twilight gasped. “A breech presentation! Figure C! Or maybe Figure D! Is that it?”

“Shut up!” snapped Granny. She turned back to Fluttershy. “String! Somepony find us some sturdy twine! Aw, hell, I ain’t Daisy Chain, I just ain’t… if we had a child’s skinny hooves in here… but there ain’t no child that can push this back…”

Twilight was searching for string through Fluttershy’s stuff. She rushed to Granny’s side, levitating what she found. “Will this work?”

Granny stared at the small bit of fluffy yarn. Part of it was still connected to a knitted sweater the size of a baby chipmunk. “What do YOU think? An’ we can’t get it around th’ hoof, or at least I ain’t sure if I can…”

Twilight cursed, and suddenly the book on equine obstetrics was floating over, and she was levitating it before Granny’s old eyes, and demanding, “Which is it? Is it figure C or figure D?”

Granny stared. Figure C showed the legs folded up, hocks against the foal’s rump. Figure D had the legs fully back, hooves buried even farther back in the womb, totally unreachable. “You gotta ask questions like that right now?”

“Which is it?”

Granny’s foreleg worked as she felt with her hoof. She sagged, some light going out of her eyes. “D. It’s D, damn it! An’ me with a piddlin’ small scrap of yarn, and how am I gonna reach them hooves?”

She winced. Fluttershy had tensed again, and the foal was shoved deeper into the birth canal. Granny tried to push it back. “Dammit! Why’s it have to be so big an’ heavy?” Then she stopped, for Fluttershy was trying to talk.

“Kill me…”

Twilight’s jaw dropped open in horror. Granny glared, and barked, “What was that?”

“Kill me,” sobbed Fluttershy. “It hurts so bad… cut me open, save my baby…”

Pinkie thrashed, weeping and trying to get free of Applejack, who hung on grimly. Fluttershy sweated and shook, in obvious agony from trying to force a mis-presented foal out.

“Hell no,” snarled Granny. She set her jaw, and began trying to push the foal back in, though her efforts did nothing.

Twilight stared, and then she bent down to speak right in Granny’s face. “You know what to do, huh? Looks like you’re trying to push the foal deeper and get a hoof out? With the string we don’t have?”

“Shut up!” said Granny, struggling with her task.

“No, you shut up, and listen!” yelled Twilight. “We’ll do it.”

Granny blinked, and looked up at the furious unicorn. “Eh?”

“You’re not strong enough to do it. We are, but we don’t know what we’re doing. We’ll do it together,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Back off, and TELL us what to do. I apologize that we will be using our magic but you have no choice. Fluttershy is dying. And I am telling you that if she dies because you wouldn’t let us help… you’re next.”

Granny stared at her for a moment.

“I ain’t that daft, missy, nor that stubborn. Time’s a wastin’. Get to it!”

Granny pulled her hoof out of Fluttershy’s vagina, and stepped back, and Twilight and Trixie leaned in, horns glowing brightly. The next thing they knew, Granny had a foreleg around each of them, her face right by theirs and lit by the magic glow of their horns, her eyes grim.

“You can feel and push and guide with them horns? Go in there. You should feel th’ foal’s rump and th’ tail. No hocks, not where you can git ‘em.”

The magic glow pushed into Fluttershy, parting her vagina again, and she shuddered.

“Farther in, reach along them legs, you gotta get to where them hooves are and bring ‘em toward you…”

Trixie was panting with the exertion. “I’ve got one! But it’s not coming…”

“Not now!” shouted Granny. “You got to push the foal back so you got room! Like Daisy Chain did once!”

“Once?” demanded Twilight. Granny hung her head.

“Other three times, mare an’ foal died… she only succeeded once, still more’n anypony else can say…”

“Pioneers!” snarled Trixie. “Old mares and pioneers! This isn’t olden times, we need to get her to the hospital…”

“There’s no time!” yelled both Granny and Twilight, in unison. They looked at each other, startled, and then Twilight said, “Trixie, you push. She’s right, the book said we only have a few minutes. I think you can push harder than me but I’m more dexterous.” She gulped. “I hope I’m right…”

Trixie Lulamoon gritted her teeth, shut her eyes, and her horn flared into blinding incandescence—and Fluttershy screamed weakly, her legs kicking as the foal was physically shoved up her womb against her feeble contractions.

Granny was watching the shape of Fluttershy’s vast belly. “Now, now, now!” she cried, and Twilight concentrated, her horn flaring brighter and brighter. Fluttershy screamed again, her anguish heart-rending, and Pinkie screamed as well. Pinkie thrashed and fought against Applejack who hung on like grim death, and Fluttershy tried weakly to thrash as well, but hadn’t the energy left, and her scream died away for lack of air into a dreadful croak like a death-rattle as foal legs were twisted into position inside her, heedless of what it was doing to her body…

Two hooves appeared at the opening of Fluttershy’s vagina. Twilight and Trixie sagged, victorious.

“Now she gotta push!” demanded Granny. She jabbed Fluttershy’s butt with a hoof. “Hear me? Push! You’re all clear now!”

There was no reaction. Fluttershy just lay there.

“Come on!”

Nothing.

Granny set her jaw. “Applejack—let her sweetie go, maybe she can motivate ‘er. We’re out of time.”

Applejack released Pinkie, who rushed over and cuddled Fluttershy’s head, brushing pink mane out of her eyes with a trembling hoof. “Please,” begged Pinkie, “you can do it!”

Fluttershy’s eyes opened.

“…I’m so sorry,” she croaked, and Pinkie’s face began to slowly crash into despair.

“No, Fluttershy, please, no…”

Fluttershy’s eyes said she’d given up. The pain and damage of repositioning the foal had been more than she could handle, and there was something sweetly apologetic in her eyes as she looked at Pinkie. “I love you. Goodbye… take care of our baby, promise…”

Pinkie was shivering, shaking her head in disbelief. “No, no, no, no…”

“Promi…” began Fluttershy, and her body shook, a contraction racking her with pain. The hooves sticking out of her didn’t budge. Fluttershy could manage one last look at Pinkie, a look of terrible disappointment that her last request got a ‘no’, and then her eyes slowly closed, and Pinkie’s flooded with tears that wouldn’t stop.

“Shit,” said Applejack. “That went well.”

Granny looked at Twilight and Trixie. Twilight and Trixie looked back.

“Get that foal out of there,” ordered the old mare. “With or without her help.”

Two unicorn horns flared to life.

“Applejack! You hang on to th’ other end!”

“Is she gonna die?” said Applejack, scrambling to hang onto Fluttershy’s body even as Pinkie clung in despair.

“She ain’t the only one in my thoughts right now. Do it!”

Unicorn magic reached out and grabbed two foal hooves firmly, and Trixie and Twilight strained their telekinesis, at first cautiously, and then with more and more urgency.

Pinkie sobbed out loud, for as the foal began to move, Fluttershy shuddered and shook in obvious agony, making a horrible noise in her throat. Pinkie couldn’t look away. It was like she was compelled to cling to her beloved and watch every moment of her torturous death, and as Fluttershy’s eyes opened and stared at nothing, their expression speaking of martyrdom and ultimate suffering, Pinkie Pie felt every pang within herself, like her soul was being torn free of her.

Pinkie could tell just by looking in those huge, tragic eyes, that her beloved had surrendered to death for the sake of her foal—and there was no way out of the situation except to go through it and see, at the end, what was left of her world.

“Keep it comin’!” demanded Granny Smith. “Hurry up!”

Fluttershy made another awful croaking noise as more of the foal’s legs emerged, and her vagina was pried wider and wider by the birth. Her wings flapped spastically in agony, and then as the foal’s hips were pulled free, all her feathers bristled out, and then her wings flailed weakly and brokenly as if her nervous system was being burned up from the inside by pain.

“Good girl,” said Granny, “good girl… don’t you dare give up on me now…”

The foal’s torso began to emerge, stretching Fluttershy’s vagina impossibly. Fluttershy began to keen, a high squealing cutting the air, her legs beginning to kick and struggle despite her extreme weakness. Twilight and Trixie could see the foal’s umbilical cord, drawn tight against its belly.

“Keep it goin’!” demanded Granny. “Don’t…”

Fluttershy screamed, and writhed in agony on the floor, startling Twilight and Trixie, who stopped pulling for a moment.

“Are we breaking her…” stammered Twilight.

“Ain’t you listenin’?” yelled Granny. “Keep goin’! Right this instant!”

“But I see blood, and…”

Granny rounded on the unicorns. “That foal will die in thirty seconds if it don’t come out! It’s breech, it can’t breathe, it’s trapped! GO!”

Twilight and Trixie flung themselves back into their pulling, and Applejack braced herself and held Fluttershy’s body down, but they’d broken the momentum—and at the worst possible moment. The foal stuck halfway out of Fluttershy, asphyxiating from loss of blood flow through the umbilical cord—and Fluttershy struggled helplessly, blind with agony as the unicorns tried to pull the rest of the foal through.

Granny Smith was at Fluttershy’s head. She struck Fluttershy across the face with the back of her hoof, ignoring Pinkie’s hysterics, and she shouted, nose to nose with the despairing pegasus, “Push! You have mebbe ten seconds before th’ foal strangles and dies! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six!”

Fluttershy screamed like she’d been flung into all the Hells that ever were. It was no longer only about her death. That, she’d been ready to accept, passively. But this? Her eyes were wide in sudden, horrible awareness.

“Five! FOUR! THREE!”

Her scream didn’t stop the counting.

“TWO!”

Fluttershy’s body convulsed as if it was trying to tear itself apart—and the foal came loose, pulled by desperate unicorn magic, pushed by Fluttershy’s final contractions, emerging onto the floor with a heavy thud and a gush of blood and amniotic fluids.

Granny was on the foal like a flash, and Applejack was right behind her. Trixie and Twilight leaned in as well, as Granny cleared membranes away from a white foal with a pink mane, a big foal, very big, male… a colt out of Fluttershy by Pinkie Pie with assistance from Big Macintosh.

For a terrible moment there was silence and motionlessness. Then—the foal drew a breath, and the room erupted in cheers.

“We did it!” cried Twilight, hugging Granny Smith, who hugged her back and ruffled her mane with a forehoof, saying, “Pointy-head varmint! Gimme ten of you, now I seen th’ light! Now I get it!”

Applejack’s hoof touched her shoulder, and she turned. Applejack’s face was tragic. Behind her, Pinkie Pie held Fluttershy’s head in her lap. Pinkie’s teeth were chattering and her eyes were pits of horror. She said four words.

“Her heart isn’t beating.”

The world stopped for a moment, as the foal drew another innocent breath—and then, Granny was striding forward, leaning down, glaring into Pinkie’s face.

“Horseshit! You’re shaking. You don’t know that. You can’t tell me that!”

“She’s dead,” said Pinkie Pie tonelessly.

Granny Smith drew in a deep breath, prepared to rage. She, too, was physically shaking from the intensity of it all, and had no chance of listening for a heartbeat through the roaring in her ears. Then, she blinked, shut her mouth, and stepped away from Pinkie. She walked around behind Fluttershy, where butter-yellow wings splayed across the floor in tortured poses, and she trod on Fluttershy’s wing, deliberately, as the other ponies watched in horror.

At that, Fluttershy jerked and struggled weakly, making another croaking noise deep in her throat—and Pinkie toppled over in a faint.

“Oh sweet Celestia!” gasped Applejack. “We saved both of ‘em!” She fanned herself with her hat, as Twilight and Trixie hugged.

“For now we did,” replied Granny.

Applejack replaced her hat, and trotted over to Granny. “Beg pardon?” she said. Then, she felt something nuzzling under her belly. She turned her head, saying “Aw, I ain’t your…” and stopped. It wasn’t a white newborn colt going after her tits. It was a little green filly. Northern Spy looked back at her, with an exasperated expression, as if to say, ‘what, no milk from my other mom?’

Applejack’s jaw dropped. “How did you…”

“…’Sup,” said Rainbow Dash, from the front doorway.

Applejack stared, incredulous. “Dashie! The hell? You brought Spy all th’ way out here?”

“Nah. She brought me! I couldn’t get her to stop. We’d have been here sooner, except she took a power nap right in the middle of the road, with me standing over her.”

“Ya don’t say…”

“Definitely your foal,” said Rainbow Dash. “And she knows it. I heard some screaming and yelling as we got nearer, how’s Fluttershy?”

Her gaze took in the blood, the tortured posture, frazzled wings and state of general collapse.

“Oh.”

“What mus’ we do, Granny?” asked Applejack.

Granny Smith looked worried, and chewed her lower lip as she thought. “Ah would give her some time but that foal won’t stand much waitin’. He ain’t breathin’ proper while he’s lyin’ there. We gotta get him up—and we gotta get her up.”

“You could stomp on her wings some more?” suggested Twilight.

“Wait, she did what?” said Dash, startled.

Granny frowned. “I reckon we kin ask for the assistance of you two again. Can ya lift a pony? Mebbe you can sorta encourage her?”

Pinkie had come to, and she was frantically cuddling Fluttershy, nuzzling her face as Fluttershy took shallow, rasping breaths.

“Which do you want standing up first?” asked Twilight.

Granny scratched her chin. “Ah want th’ mother. Might tell us useful things, that.”

Twilight and Trixie’s horns glowed once more, and Fluttershy shuddered and cried out pitiably as they began to lift her. Pinkie cried, “You’re hurting her!” and Trixie said, “Should we be doing this?”

“Ah know what I’m doin’!” insisted Granny. “Hold your peace—an’ hold up that pony!”

Fluttershy wouldn’t stand. Her head dangled limply. Pinkie Pie gazed worriedly into her eyes, and got nothing but another forlorn, despairing “Goodbye…” for her trouble, and Pinkie began to cry again.

“Oh, Granny…” stammered Applejack.

Granny lifted an eyebrow. “You watch. Watch what happens.”

The foal had lifted his head, looking around, sniffing. He threw his gangly forelegs out, but couldn’t rise at first. Spy wobbled over to check him out, and the two foals blinked curiously at each other, nose to nose, for a moment.

The newborn colt snorted, and heaved himself up into a sitting position—and rose to his feet.

There was a gasp from the watching ponies—and then another gasp, for Northern Spy frisked and headbutted him, and over he went with a thump.

“Spy!” scolded Rainbow Dash. “Totally not fair! Just because he could stand the first time? Really?” She drew Northern Spy to her, draping a wing over her foal for safe keeping.

Twilight and Trixie were still holding Fluttershy up. They had her legs in a standing position, but her wings and head drooped and the unicorns were supporting all of her weight. “How much longer do we need to do this?” asked Twilight.

“You watch. You ain’t the only one who knows a little magic,” said Granny.

The colt had struggled to his hooves again, and was wobbling across the floor, searching. He bumped into Fluttershy’s limp flank, and sniffed, and his eyes widened.

“Wait for it…” said Granny.

The colt ducked his head under Fluttershy’s belly, nosing her breasts and investigating, and then the sound of coltish sucking and gulping filled the air… and Fluttershy’s head lifted, her eyes going very wide.

Pinkie couldn’t look away from that shocked gaze. Suddenly, her beloved was filled with life and animation.

“Oh my goodness,” rasped Fluttershy weakly. “Oh my goodness…”

“Ladies,” proclaimed Granny Smith, “your work is done, and Ah thank you for everythin’!”

Trixie blinked at Twilight, who returned the puzzled look. Together, they cautiously released their magical support, and as weight returned to Fluttershy’s legs, the shattered pegasus supported herself, even shifting a hoof instinctively to balance, and her wings slowly rose until they formed gentle arcs in the air, as if she was preparing to take flight.

“Oh my goodness,” sighed Fluttershy, staring at nothing with a shocked expression, her instincts holding her upright while her foal nursed hungrily from her. Confusion dominated her feelings for second after second, and then as she slowly realized that he had survived, her eyes flooded with tears and she rested her head on Pinkie Pie’s shoulder and cried, all the while feeling the sensation of her foal filling himself up with her life-giving milk.

Twilight looked on, worriedly. “Do we need to talk about getting her to the hospital? I saw blood—and what we were doing in there freaked me out.”

Granny Smith snorted. “You did fine, child. Ain’t had many foals, have you? You’d be surprised what ponies can go through at such times. I reckon Fluttershy will be all right.”

Pinkie lifted her head from where she was comforting Fluttershy. “She is going to the hospital to get checked up!”

“She’s stayin’ here for a spell,” retorted Granny, “and takin’ care of the foal! He needs to fill up on milk to get a good start. Nearly lost the little bugger. Won’t take long, you can go when he’s done.”

Rainbow Dash eyed the new arrival, or his hind end, while her own baby ducked under her belly for another pit stop. “He’s not that little. Actually he’s kind of huge. What’re they naming him?”

“But you remember that, Dashie. It’s a colt—so he’s Rock Candy! Right?” said Applejack.

Fluttershy, in turn, lifted her head, and cleared her throat. “Yes. He’s a colt, and he survived, and he has a name and it’s Rock!” She noticed Pinkie looking at her oddly. “What? Were you expecting me to go, if that’s all right with you? Nuh-uh, not after what I just went through. He’s called Rock like we agreed on, and that’s all there is to it!” Her voice was very weak, and she could barely hold her head up, but all the same she stared Pinkie down as if expecting an argument about the name.

Pinkie’s lip quivered. “No, I was just gonna say… you survived, too.” She gulped, blinking away tears.

At that, Fluttershy blinked. It was as if the thought hadn’t crossed her mind—though she had willingly given her life away for the sake of birthing her foal at any cost, though she had been galvanized and dragged back to the world again by the sensation of her foal suckling on her teat and draining her of milk, all the same the concept seemingly hadn’t registered. Her friends watched as Fluttershy realized she was alive and staying that way.

Fluttershy bowed her head. “Oh—that. Thank you, everypony. Though you know, that wasn’t really the important thing.” Her voice was small and hoarse, but earnest.

Pinkie nuzzled her with trembling, awed gentleness. “No, baby. It really is the important thing—whether or not you believe it.” She moved in closer, grimacing at some of the feelings that roiled inside her, quietly allowing herself to feel the warmth of Fluttershy next to her and experience her mate’s gentle breathing against her neck.

Rainbow Dash looked on, her jaw hanging open. “It was… THAT rough?”

At that, Applejack hugged her tightly. “Yeah, honey. It was.”

Rainbow’s face was troubled. “But… Really? I heard her say goodbye to Pinkie. I missed most of it. It wasn’t a usual foaling?”

Granny Smith’s haggard old face was answer enough.

“What happened?” pleaded Dash.

Nopony wanted to speak. They just looked away, as if the experience had been too dreadful to mention, and Dash grew paler and paler to see it—and then, unexpectedly, a hoarse, soft voice began to speak, and it was Fluttershy herself.

“I know they said breech. I guess Rock was supposed to turn himself around to get born? It sounds awful. I was glad he was so calm and quiet inside me, but it just made everything so much worse…”

Rainbow stared, as Spy nursed contentedly, and her face kept falling more and more as Fluttershy continued.

“I tried to push, but it was just hopeless. The water didn’t even break because he was stuck inside me in the position where it’s not supposed to, and I got more and more exhausted…” Fluttershy shuddered. “I could feel that it wasn’t going to work. And I knew that if I went, he would die too…”

Pinkie hugged her tighter as she went on, picking her words, going slower.

“So I begged them to cut me open and take him out, but they said no. I’m not really sure what happened then. It didn’t make a lot of sense. He was tearing me apart, and then something pushed him back and it was like it tore all my insides up. And then, something grabbed his hoof, and there isn’t room inside me to bring it around, but I guess it was important because they ripped right through my body to make room. Or at least that’s what I thought happened. That’s what it felt like…”

Rainbow Dash’s eyes couldn’t leave Fluttershy’s, and she shook her head in mute horror, as if to say ‘stop, stop’, but her gentle pegasus friend was inexorable.

“So I lay down to die hoping they were good at pulling hard so they could get him out of me, and they were pulling very hard, but I was too little. So he got stuck, but since he was backwards and coming out that way, it was very bad. And I was gonna die, but he was gonna die too, really soon. Granny Smith kept counting down seconds. And I knew I had to die for him, so I didn’t care what it felt like, and at the last moment I just gave it everything I had left and I felt his body rip mine to pieces and then he was out and there was still a second to spare. And I hoped I had saved him,” said Fluttershy gently, “and I died not knowing it…”

Rainbow Dash gulped, speechless, tearing up, stricken.

“And now it turns out that we didn’t die after all,” said Fluttershy, “and isn’t that wonderful?”

Dash was crying. Fluttershy blinked.

“It’s okay, Rainbow Dash. We really didn’t. I mean, it would have been okay if they just saved Rock, but…”

“Not helping!” blurted Dash.

“What’s the matter?” said Fluttershy, while Rock suckled fiercely on her. “I promise, I must be okay after all. I didn’t think so, but when I felt him nursing I was suddenly filled with the most wonderful energy, which must be the true meaning of motherhood.” Pinkie gazed adoringly at her as she added, “Please don’t cry, Rainbow, we’ll be all right!”

“Dammit!” cursed Dash. “It’s not that. It’s horrible. Embarrassing. Dammit!”

“Easy, sugarcube,” soothed Applejack, hugging her. “Let it out. It’s not that? What on earth could be th’ matter, then? Seemed like that was more than enough!”

Dash wiped an eye with her hoof. “I don’t wanna say.”

“Please?” said Fluttershy.

Rainbow Dash glared at her, bleakly. “Fine. I warned you it was horrible. You know what I did earlier? I saved my lousy skin because Spy was inside me. And if it wasn’t for Flight Lightning here, Scootaloo would be dead because of it…”

“Easy, Dash,” said Flight Lightning, but Rainbow could not be stopped.

“And here you are, Fluttershy, and it turns out you DIED to let your foal live! At least that’s what you thought happened, and you went with it! I thought I had it bad. Don’t get me wrong, it hurt like nothing I’ve ever felt. But I’ve spent so much time flying around rescuing ponies and being awesome, and all the time it was because I knew I could fly so good that I wasn’t in any danger. I can always get out of a situation. I’d use my wings, my muscles, to be the hero.”

Rainbow Dash gulped. “You don’t have those kinds of muscles, and I never thought of you as a hero. But when it came down to it, and everything was lost, you gave your LIFE for your foal…”

Dash fixed Fluttershy with a look that was equal parts shame, resentment and awe.

“No matter how long I live, I will never, ever be as big a hero as you.”

Her gaze dropped. “I guess I’ll just take care of Spy, and help old ladies cross streets. Before you say anything, I warned you it was horrible! This is my problem, you never asked to be a hero. Somehow that makes it worse. I’m a fraud, Fluttershy. But I love you. I’m sorry—I’ll shut up now.”

Applejack hugged her, a worried look in the country mare’s eyes. Then Fluttershy spoke again, and it was with more authority, pulling herself together to deliver her message clearly.

“I’m glad you saved yourself and your foal, Rainbow Dash. Maybe I would have done the same thing, if it was me. Something happened with Scootaloo? Is she okay? Please say she is!”

Flight Lightning nodded. “She’s fine. She’s probably with Sweetie Belle right now.”

“Oh, good,” said Fluttershy.

“That’s one opinion,” said Applejack wryly, but Fluttershy pressed on.

“Please listen, Rainbow Dash. I didn’t ask to give my life for my foal. It just happened—sort of. I guess I know something more about who I really am now… but nopony asked you to die for yours, Rainbow. If you were in danger and you saved yourself, your foal was asking you to be a mother, and you answered that call. Maybe that’s harder for you? It seems like you haven’t been very good at it.”

Rainbow was crying, in Applejack’s embrace, but she nodded. “Yeah…”

“I had no choice, Rainbow. I guess it all turned out okay. Please don’t be sad or ashamed? It’s not your fault if you didn’t turn out to be as brave as me,” said Fluttershy earnestly.

At that, Granny Smith cleared her throat, and the ponies all looked at her.

“This is all very interestin’,” she said, “an’ I ain’t one to downplay what we went through here. Scared th’ horseapples outta me, and if it weren’t for miss Twilight an’ miss Trixie and my girl Applejack we mighta lost her, an’ that’s the long and the short of it.” She fixed Fluttershy with a sharp, accusing gaze. “However!”

Fluttershy blinked. “What’s the matter?”

Granny’s voice was gentle. “Yes, dearie, it was mighty brave of you, yes you could’ve died, yes you was ready to give your life for your foal, and this lil’ blue pony din’t need to do no such thing. I can see she feels about two inches tall even though she’s got a fine healthy foal by her side, because she’s lookin’ at you and thinkin’ you turned all super-hero on her during a horrible bad foalin’. But there’s somethin’ you and she should know, first.”

“What?” said Fluttershy, anxiously.

“It’s your own silly fault, unless I miss my guess.”

Fluttershy’s jaw dropped. Pinkie glared at Granny, saying, “What?”

“You heard me!” said Granny. “Now, I wouldn’t say nothin’, but Rainbow Dash here, she’s like my own girl by now. I seen her fighting her way through her own foalin’, and I seen how you done it, and I even seen you turn up your nose and think she’s doin’ it all wrong, and no mother likes to see that, and she’s been real decent about it…”

Fluttershy protested, “I never!”

Pinkie made a face. She looked angry at what Granny was telling her mate, but all the same, she saw the truth of it. “You kind of have. How many times were you complaining to me that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t listen to you and rest and use clouds like you did?”

Granny shook her head. “Now, I can see young Rainbow wants t’ be special, and do heroic things, and there ain’t no denyin’ that what you were ready to do for your foal is the greatest sacrifice a mare can give. But I’ve seen you behavin’ like Rainbow ain’t a good mother because she stayed active, sufferin’ them cramps, not lettin’ it get her down, continuin’ to live as normal as she could…”

“That wasn’t wrong after all?” said Fluttershy. “I was sure she was doing it all wrong.”

Granny heaved an exasperated sigh. “Consarn it! Them cramps got her into condition. The way she was movin’ around, that foal flipped into position for birthin’ right away, while yours took a big nap. Foalin’ ain’t supposed to be comfortable, child! My girl Rainbow did all th’ right things in spite of you, and she had a much easier labor fair and square—she paid for it up front!”

Fluttershy’s jaw dropped.

“Next time,” offered Granny Smith, “you ask Rainbow Dash for some tips on foalin’, rather’n offering them!”

Fluttershy stared, dumbstruck. Applejack gulped. “Uh…”

“Don’t you start!” snapped Granny.

“All’s I was gonna say is, who knew Fluttershy was gonna turn out to be th’ superhero and Dashie th’ super-mom?”

With that, all the tension broke into laughter, the absurdity of it striking everypony present. Dash’s laugh of relief was joined by Fluttershy, who promptly winced but still let out careful giggles, and Pinkie couldn’t resist laughing at the ridiculousness either, and Flight Lightning got caught up in it and Applejack laughed as she hugged Dash, and the two foals looked up in complete astonishment, before returning their attention to pegasus breasts and their solemn duty to suck milk out of them in great quantity.

Gradually, the laughter faded away, leaving cleared air, soothed feelings, and the gentle noises of baby ponies suckling on their pegasus mothers. Applejack began talking with Flight Lightning, while Granny told Pinkie Pie, “Sorry fer bustin’ her balloon,” and Pinkie replied, “Aw, that’s okay, Fluttershy really needs a spanking now and then. Besides, I’m her balloon, silly!”

Rainbow Dash sidled carefully, so as not to dislodge Spy, over to nuzzle Fluttershy. Her ruby eyes were warm, and so was her voice, though both mares were noticably hoarse after their travails.

“Hey,” she said. “You’re still my hero. Totally. Okay?”

Fluttershy looked over her old friend, who had been such a daunting overachiever for so many years, only to unexpectedly fall short in a way she couldn’t and shouldn’t ever remedy. She looked over Dash’s filly Spy, and then her own colt, Rock, and back at Dash again. Dash gazed with concern at Fluttershy, and seemed worried that she’d been scolded too much—though compared to losing Rock, none of it mattered.

“I’m… your hero?” said Fluttershy.

“Always,” confirmed Dash.

There was a little pause for thought, and then Fluttershy hmphed and nodded in satisfaction.

“Good!”

Rainbow smiled.

At Any Cost

“This way,” said Vinyl Scratch.

Octavia followed, worriedly. “Must it be so dark? The big hallways have magic light. This is Celestia’s palace, she can’t light all of it?”

Vinyl sighed, and gave her friend an exasperated look. “Tavi. Really?”

“Well, it would be nice. I’m going to chip a hoof, stumbling on something.”

Vinyl rolled her eyes. “And if you were proposing to seduce and distract the palace unicorns, then maybe it would be worth their while to light every little corridor and service entrance in the place, but you’re not, you’re going to distract a palace guard.”

“Please go over it again, Scratchie? I’m nervous.”

“It’s not you that should be nervous, you’ll be fine. You only have to keep him from looking up. It might be a challenge if Lyra makes a noise—she’ll be directly over you and you’ve got to keep that guard from noticing her. I’m worried for her. If she falls, she’s lucky if she just lands on the balcony in front of Princess Luna’s rooms, and that’s already a terrible drop. She has to get up to the observatory without being seen, and then make a running jump over to the roof of the chalet thing, and then climb down that curvy ledge on the front of it. It’s a really short jump… I guess…”

“She’s mad,” said Octavia. “That’s awful. How can she be doing this?”

“No, that’s not the awful part. If she misses the roof and also misses the balcony, there’s this one narrow walkway at least five stories down that leads to Princess Celestia’s quarters that she’d be lucky to hit.”

Octavia stared at Vinyl. “How could that be lucky? She can’t fly!”

“I don’t know, maybe Princess Celestia could save her even after she broke every bone in her body. The thing is, if she doesn’t hit that walkway… the Canterlot palace sticks off the side of the mountain. The Princesses’ quarters stick off the side of the palace. If she misses the roof, and then misses the balcony, and then misses the walkway to Princess Celestia’s place… she’s gonna have a lot of time to think about what it will feel like to hit the ground.”

Octavia paled, and said nothing.

“You’re right, Tavi,” said Vinyl. “She is crazy. But I think she can do it, and she’s dead set on trying. It really isn’t that big of a jump, and that roof’s got all kinds of stuff to grab onto, it’s like a gingerbread house. It’s just that if she falls, it’s ridiculously bad. I can get her through the service corridors to the observatory but there just isn’t a back door to where Luna is, so she’s gotta jump it. That’s where you come in—you’ve got to keep the guard from looking up while she does it and climbs down to the balcony. Then she should be fine.”

Vinyl paused. “Well… if she’s right about Luna, that is. I’d kinda like to ask Princess Luna if she’s really crushing on our minty-green girl. It’s gonna be pretty weird for Lyra if she’s not.”

“Oh, I hope she doesn’t hurt herself,” said Octavia. “Tell me again what I have to do?”

“You’ve got to wait until you see us up at the observatory. Then you sashay out and try to seduce the guard, or do whatever you have to do so he doesn’t look up. Okay? Stay hidden until that point because there’s no telling how long you can hold his attention. You might only have a minute or so.”

“Will he arrest me?” said Octavia.

“Tell him you’re lost. Tell him anything. Now shh… we go through that doorway, we’re outside on a balcony and you can see him. You don’t want him to see you, not yet! That’s why I’m not making magical light, okay? Now, real quietly… peek around this corner.”

The darkened corridor ended in a dim gleam of light—not direct, but the spillover glow from magically lit rooms, larger corridors, the light of the palace pouring out onto the balconies and walkways of Canterlot. It had the peculiar quality of magic illumination that it didn’t bounce around or spread out much—it illuminated what it meant to, and left the rest black as outer space between the stars. This gave a special drama and contrast to the palace at night, but it left the service corridors and unattended areas alarmingly dark.

Not for Canterlot, the warm spreading glow of a campfire. The crystalline sparkle of magic light made the palace night-life entrancing, but it wasn’t a glow to be shared with the surrounding blackness. It cost unicorn mages time and effort, and it stayed focussed on the subjects at hand.

Vinyl Scratch crept toward the end of the service corridor, and beckoned with her horn for Octavia to follow, and to look ahead—and her elegant earth pony friend showed her quality by slinking silently around Vinyl and peering outside in an unhurried, inconspicuous motion, without a flick of her ear or a twitch of her tail…

Octavia’s tail shot straight out behind her, like the cracking of a whip. Vinyl made a faint squeak of alarm and pulled her friend back out of sight, whispering, “Don’t jump! What is it? Is something wrong?”

The demure gray mare seemed stunned. “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh! Scratchie! Oh my!”

“Calm down, Tavi, what frightened you?”

Octavia shook her head, her mane rippling from the motion. “No, no! It’s not that. Oh, Scratchie! Look, look!”

Vinyl looked. There was a guard, a big pegasus, who looked very imposing and serious.

“I don’t get it. What?”

Octavia gulped, her eyes shining. “Don’t you remember?”

Vinyl glowered at her dear friend. “We don’t literally share the same head, lovey. It just seems like it when I remember shopping lists and things for you. What could you possibly expect me to remember about a big pegasus g…”

Her jaw dropped, and she stared at Octavia. “Oh, you are shittin’ me. No. Just no. Really?”

Octavia panted, beaming a crazy grin, and she nodded manically. “It’s him.”

“Just to make sure… you do in fact mean…”

“Yes!” squeaked Octavia, and then cringed, forcing herself to whisper. “That’s the one. That is the pegasus I was with that night. The one who cried out ‘fat mommy hips’. It’s him!”

Vinyl looked askance at her friend. “Yeah, well… that bothered you before. Think about it, does it make it better or worse that it’s him? What if he says it again?”

Octavia slowly smiled, and it was an amazing smile. It wasn’t precisely wicked, for she was too sweet-natured and soft-hearted for malicious intent, but it wasn’t exactly innocent either—far from it. Vinyl stared in awe. Her quiet, studious, cello-obsessed friend stood revealed as the mother of all seductive, sensuous mares.

“I guess it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Leave him to me,” purred Octavia.

Vinyl grinned madly, and did a little prance in place, forcing back a squee lest she be overheard. Then, she raised a hoof, and Octavia grinned back, peeking coyly sideways as she slapped hooves with her friend—and both ponies cringed and cowered a little at the clacking noise, realising their mistake, but nothing happened after that and they heaved a sigh of relief.

“You wait until you see us on the balcony outside the observatory, okay?” said Vinyl. “Don’t start until then. That’s a good time to start, ah, getting his attention. Okay?”

Octavia grinned and nodded, and Vinyl trotted off as quietly as she could, back down the corridor, leaving Octavia lurking in the dark, alone.

She brushed a hoof over her mane. She shook it out, and it fell in luxuriant deep gray tresses over her withers. She fiddled with her white collar with the pink bow, thought for a moment, and then undid it, and let it drop to the floor, stepping over it proudly naked. She thumped a rear hoof against the ground, and felt her ass rippling, that quiver that ran up one cheek and across into the other, and back again.

She was used to cringing at the sensation, for it spoke of her voluptuous mare hips and she didn’t normally thrill to them—but this time, they were her weapon, and she felt well armed and dizzy with confidence.

Octavia smiled to herself, and began to walk out of the service corridor with demure, ladylike steps, staring directly at her Royal Guard, who hadn’t spotted her yet.

It had felt so good to have him inside her, and she didn’t intend to wait. Once she got things going, she was certain she could hold his attention all night long if she had to.

Vinyl trotted briskly through the darkened service corridors, around corners and up stairs. She’d left Lyra near the observatory with the instructions to wait until Octavia was in place, and she wondered if she’d been clear enough about it—the besotted mint-green unicorn seemed frantic to pursue her would-be lover, and Vinyl ran through plans in her head: what to do if Lyra had already jumped for the chalet roof, where to look for some confirmation she’d got over to Luna’s rooms safely or, perish the thought, fallen and hurt herself.

Vinyl refused to think of it in other terms. Technically, if you fell thousands of feet onto rocks, it counted as hurting yourself, to the extent you were still a self at all. You’d resemble paint after that, but it would be dreadfully, though very briefly, hurting paint.

She saw Lyra’s dark form ahead in the gloom, and rejoiced, breaking into a canter. She’d waited, as she promised!

Then, Vinyl gulped, for Lyra wasn’t moving or looking around.

Vinyl ran up and peered into Lyra’s eyes, and the stray lovebird looked back at her tragically, which proved she wasn’t dead or comatose but explained nothing, so Vinyl prodded her with a hoof just in front of the stylish little saddlebag, and said, “What’s up, cutie? Your audience awaits.”

Lyra gulped.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all…”

Vinyl’s jaw dropped. “Ya think? Since when was it ever a good idea? It was a cool idea—that’s different. What the hell is going on? We’re out on a limb here for you, now you’ve got cold hooves?”

Lyra sniffled. A tear rolled down her face. Vinyl stared.

“Start talking, toots. I thought you were so hot for Luna you could just about levitate yourself over that jump. Is it the jump? It really is not that far, not that you’ll ever get me to do it…”

Lyra shook her head. “No! It’s not that.”

Vinyl stared, one ear flicking in perplexity. She lifted her trademark shades with a hoof, the better to stare in astonishment. “Okay. This would be a really good time to tell me what it is, since it isn’t the jump and the risk of death and going fweeeeee-SPLAT and all. That I could understand! You weren’t even batting an eyelash about it before, and I explained what could happen. You said it didn’t matter, you demanded that I keep telling you my idea. Now what?”

Lyra’s lip quivered. “I… I… I don’t deserve her!”

“Shh!” cautioned Vinyl. She leaned closer. “Hey, I’ve given you as many tips as I could. I think you’ve got a pretty decent chance of tickling her fancy. I’m sorry so many of my ideas are mare-centric, I really don’t know how to be a hot sexy stallion but if she wants that from you, I bet you’d satisfy—hell, sweetie, I was pretty happy and I’ve had a lot of opportunity to compare, you know what I mean? What more could she want?”

Lyra shook her head again. Vinyl peered suspiciously at her.

“Is it that suddenly you don’t want the Princess? This is a fucking really special time to turn all fickle on us…”

“It’s not that either!” sobbed Lyra, and Vinyl sighed, and then hugged her with a foreleg.

“Come on, honey, out with it. If it’s not performance anxiety, and you’re still crazy go nuts in love with Princess Luna, and it’s not fear of falling, what the hell’s the matter?”

Lyra couldn’t answer. Vinyl prodded her again, more gently.

“Talk, oh unicorn of woe! Hey, I got lots of crazy-pony experience. I’m best friends with Octavia, you think I can’t work out what’s bugging you if I can get through to her? That mare’s a brick wall when she’ s hurting. You’re a creampuff. Tell me what’s wrong and we’ll make it better. Whatcha thinking about?”

“Rarity,” said Lyra dully.

“Okay, wasn’t expecting that,” said Vinyl. “What’s the matter? Afraid she won’t approve? Or maybe you’re just sad she dumped you, or something?”

Lyra turned her head, and gave Vinyl a reproachful gaze. “You don’t understand. She cried…”

“I’ve seen her do much more than that. So what’s the problem?”

Lyra gulped. “I… took her against her will. She wasn’t expecting it… I’ll never forget how she said, I need a good rutting, when it’s convenient for somepony! But all the same…” She trembled, her face working in dismay. “She came so hard, so very hard, but crying at the same time, and Trixie was so angry I thought she would kill me…”

Vinyl was shaking her. “Hey. Hey! You need to listen to me, kid. Listen, it’s really important.”

“What could you possibly say? I’m a r… rapist.”

Vinyl glared. “Whoa! Stop it. I thought Tavi was unhinged! I had you, remember? You’re a sweet young unicorn and very solicitous and stop talking like that, this instant.”

“But…”

“No! Listen,” demanded Vinyl, and Lyra did.

“Those are the worst scenes,” said the jaded DJ. “The ones that are all kinky and then somepony misunderstands… it sounds like you didn’t get the chance to apologize. So you really hurt Rarity, huh? Treated her rough?”

Lyra nodded. Vinyl put on a grim look, like she was annoyed with herself for what she was about to say, but saw no alternative.

“Well, I’ve seen her stumbling out of a Fillydelphia club weeping, with her mascara running. I’m talking a special club, a very ‘special’ club, one I don’t take gigs at. A really rough club for very special customers. I thought maybe she was lost. You normally don’t talk to ponies that turn up there but I was worried so I went up to her.”

Lyra blinked. “What did she do?”

“She kissed me. She was weeping for joy. She’d just gotten worked over with a whip, I could see the fresh welts, she wasn’t quite finished with the orgasm, walked real funny, all wobbly. Made me promise not to tell, five minutes later.” Vinyl gulped, looking haunted. “Trust me, it’s okay if you don’t understand Rarity…”

Slowly, Lyra said, “But I knew that part. I wanted to understand it. I thought I was doing really well.”

“Oh, babe, that’s the worst! I hate when that happens. Listen, the worst thing is when ponies don’t or can’t understand each other. We’re islands, we’re trying to communicate. I communicate with a crowd of ponies every time I play and I still screw up sometimes just one on one. But do you know what’s even worse?”

Lyra looked at her, and Vinyl stared back with great seriousness. “Not to even try.”

“But to try and hurt and play rough…”

“I’ve seen a lot of ponies,” said Vinyl. “I’ve fucked a lot of ponies, which is to say been fucked by a lot of ponies ‘cause I like the stallions. I think I got a handle on you real quick. I bet you were trying to please Rarity. Am I right? Trying to please her by doing stuff you didn’t really understand. Eh?”

Lyra began to cry. Vinyl hastily wiped her eyes with a gentle hoof. “Uht! Don’t get too weepy, it’ll show. I was right, huh? You were trying to please Rarity, and it didn’t work. Or it did and it didn’t, I don’t understand that mare either. Her public persona is quite enough for me.”

Lyra nodded, remembering. “It did and it didn’t. I know something hurt her real bad, even though she got off. I could feel it, I never felt a vibe like that before. It made me want to run away. Um… which I did.”

“So would I,” admitted Vinyl. “Maybe it’s best that you not try to get with Rarity again. But now she’s got you all spooked? Worse than that, you’re doubting yourself?”

Lyra nodded again, and Vinyl said, “Let me tell you what I saw and felt when I had you. I felt a very solicitous lover, aching to bring me pleasure, doing it in a number of different ways, flinging herself into that without reservation. I felt enthusiasm, I felt appreciated, I felt like I was able to goad him on real good… um, I mean her, it was you but with a dick, right? It was real sexy and it did not feel like a rape. I’m not going to say why I know—let’s just say I’ve had a lot of very different experiences. You weren’t trying to hurt me. You weren’t feeling superior, or trying to make me feel bad, or doing weird shit just to put me off-balance… It wasn’t all about you. I don’t count getting all pumped up as part of that because I wanted to pump you up. I know the difference. You weren’t telling me how to feel—even when it was about feeling nice. You were listening. So was I, by the way, though I get a little bossy.”

Lyra hung on her words, eyes pleading for more.

“Thing is,” said Vinyl, “if you are with somepony and you’re not communicating, that’s important. It shouldn’t be too hard. Maybe you’ve never clicked with anypony before? That would be sad, but then no wonder you’re worried. Babe, when it works it’s not a thing to worry about. I’m not saying you have to understand every little thought but it doesn’t have to be a big struggle all the time, and you shouldn’t be living in fear of making terrible mistakes. If the vibe is that fragile then you shouldn’t be there. If Rarity is that fragile you shouldn’t be fuckin’ her—maybe she’s better off with other crazy ponies in Fillydelphia. And we don’t know whether Luna’s on your wavelength—but there is no way she’s as brittle as Rarity. I’m in awe you dared fuck her at all, I’d be scared to.”

Lyra nodded slowly. “She… liked me. Once. She was the one who took me in, not Trixie and Twilight.”

Vinyl regarded her levelly. “Maybe she still does. She might love you, in her way. Doesn’t mean that’s a good place for you to be—but it sounds like she was trying to make that connection, too. It’s okay to be sad it didn’t work. It’s not okay to condemn yourself just because you fucked up royally with one pony.”

Impulsively, Lyra reached out to hug Vinyl Scratch back, and Vinyl grinned, glasses askew. “Heh! Told you I could talk sense into crazy ponies. Got plenty of practice at it.”

Her eyes widened. “With… oh, shit. Octavia’s down there waiting for us to give her the signal. She’ll flip out. Are you okay? I mean, are you still going ahead with our plan that you wanted so badly? If not, we need to go fetch Tavi and tell her we called it off… and that’s actually gonna be a big disappointment for her, believe it or not…”

Lyra hesitated. “Um… you want me to?”

“I want you to be true to yourself,” said Vinyl. “What does that mean right now?”

Lyra thought, hard.

His eyes widened in recognition.

“Octavia! I, ah… What are you doing here?”

She pouted, a smile quirking up the corner of her mouth. “Aren’t you happy to see me, Stout Heart?”

“I… I thought you must be angry with me!” He blinked at her, wide-eyed and startled. “Is this your way of saying you’d like to set up another date?”

“Something like that,” purred Octavia, her eyes half-lidded. She prowled closer, feeling irresistible, flicking her tail from side to side, DJ Pon-3’s advice ringing in her ears. When your vagina was winking frantically and you were preventing the stallion from seeing it, you had to coax the scent out to where it could do its nefarious work on your enthralled victim.

Stout Heart gulped, catching the scent, and stiffened—but not in the way Octavia expected.

“Stop it—I’m working!”

She froze in her tracks, her lip quivering. “What?”

The handsome pegasus stallion’s face twisted in dismay. “I mean… oh, heck! I didn’t mean to yell at you. Especially here—when you’re assigned this post you’re cautioned to be solemn and meditative. The Princesses might be! Meditating, I mean. Please, Octavia—I really am happy to see you, but we’ve got to be quiet and good, I’m working and it’s super important, okay?”

Octavia narrowed her eyes. A hard case! It was reassuring that he’d turned around and begun apologizing—it helped her not panic. Even better, she realized she had his undivided attention, and that was the true purpose behind her presence.

She also realized she’d walked so far forward to meet him that she could no longer see the balcony overhead, or whether Lyra and Scratchie had appeared—and her ear twitched, sharply, at the realization.

Stout Heart misinterpreted this. “Oh, Octavia! I’m so sorry. You are the last pony in all Equestria I’d want to scold, or to make feel bad. I just have responsibilities. I hope you will forgive me?”

Octavia’s heart went out. The poor silly fellow! So devoted to his duty, yet so distressed that he might have offended her—and, perhaps, so vulnerable. She stepped demurely forward, stretched her neck up, and nuzzled his face.

“Oh, Stout Heart! Of course I forgive you. I never told you, but you gave me a very special evening.”

“I did?”

Octavia’s face was wreathed in wicked smiles, instantly. “Your heart’s not all that is stout, dear fellow.”

He blushed, dropping his eyes, and then caught himself and began scanning the horizon, though the darkness obscured it.

Octavia flicked her tail again, because she could tell from the quivering-hot-jelly feeling between her legs that she was exceedingly worked up, and she could feel herself winking again. It would soon be time to do the other trick Scratchie had taught her. She sniffed the air—and then peered around his barrel chest, lowering her head, looking under him. “My!”

Stout Heart quailed. “Octavia, please!”

“Funny,” she purred, “that’s just what I was about to say…” She ogled the bulky shaft that began to drop from his pristine white sheath, and winked harder, not with her eyes. Her tail lashed merrily. “My evening keeps getting better and better…”

“Not now!” whispered Stout Heart, eyes darting from side to side.

“Awwww,” said Octavia, lifting her head. Her gaze sparkled. “Do you remember, Stout Heart? You straddled me and you were so excited. Those big strong wings flapping so fiercely… and that cock swung over and it thumped the inside of my leg as you positioned it, and I just melted away, then and there.” She trembled. “So heavy and solid. Stout indeed…”

“Can we arrange for you to come see me after…” he managed.

Octavia licked her lips, staring up at him with a strange wildness, throwing caution to the winds. “I imagine that it sent a ripple through my bottom—like this!”

She frisked about gracefully, and stamped a rear hoof, holding her tail high, knowing what he’d see. That tender winking vagina, framed by masses of quivering mare buttock…

He gulped and whimpered, and she knew she had him.

“Please be so good as to thump it against the inside of my thigh again,” said Octavia demurely, but while she spoke, she backed up and began to press her posterior underneath him, towards that increasingly throbbing hard-on.

Stout Heart’s eyes were frantic. “I must stay at my post!”

“It’s a lovely post,” crooned Octavia, wriggling her ample hips, pressing backwards. She delighted to feel his sensuous hardness against her rounded bottom, gasped with pleasure as it rubbed her pony breasts, and she scooted back a little more and squeezed his stiffened cock between her rump cheeks, lovingly.

“Oh sweet CELESTIA!” squeaked Stout Heart.

“Yes?” came the calm, kind voice.

Stout Heart froze in shock, and Octavia wriggled out from under him, just in time to see Princess Celestia peer out the door of her humble, cottage-like outcropping below the observatory and guest quarters, and fly across the slight gap to land before them, inquisitive.

“Oh, hello, Octavia. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Octavia thought fast, shielding her erstwhile lover’s body with her own. “I’m dating Stout Heart, Princess. I was lonely and I thought he might be lonely too. It’s so nice to see him again!”

Princess Celestia gave her a very sharp look, and Octavia met her gaze staunchly, telling herself there was nothing to fear. She and Scratchie were doing nothing bad, just… complicated. Octavia drew on her strange naivete and stubborn innocence, and she looked up proudly at Princess Celestia while hiding a Royal Guard’s erect penis and concealing his pre-come smeared deliciously on her breast and inner thigh, and she said, “Please don’t scold him, I promise he won’t distract you again with noises! He was just happy to see me!”

Princess Celestia’s ear twitched. She sniffed the air. “I should think so! Ah… Octavia?”

“Oh, be kind,” pleaded Octavia, “do!”

Celestia’s eyes widened. “And when, little pony, am I not kind? I ask you!”

“I mean…” began Octavia, and then ran out of words. Stout Heart quivered in mortification beside her, and she could not think of a way to say ‘please let me ride Royal Guard cock into the sunset, or perhaps the sunrise for the sun’s already set. Oh, and don’t notice the demented green unicorn sneaking into Princess Luna’s bed…’

She considered saying it, but it seemed counterproductive, so she stood silent and puzzled.

Princess Celestia sighed. She hesitated, and then she said, “Octavia.”

“Yes?” said Octavia happily.

“Please be advised, my dear little pony, that Stout Heart’s vision and hearing are on duty. He is to watch into the darkness, and listen, to provide warning in case some threat appears that I must be alerted to. Do you understand?”

Octavia nodded, strange innocent romantic eyes looking into those ageless, skeptical eyes.

Celestia continued. “I’ve always known you to be a good pony, Octavia, and I trust you although I trust Stout Heart far more. He is assigned this post because it is a duty and an honor, and I don’t like to see him unhappy… Will you promise me, Octavia, that you will not obstruct his eyes and ears, nor prevent him from carrying out the duty that has been assigned to him?”

Celestia’s face was a study, but Octavia’s was a poem. Her joy shone forth and bounced off Celestia’s fretful perplexity.

“I promise! I will not prevent Stout Heart from looking out into the darkness and stopping bad things from happening!”

Celestia bit her lip, something no living pony had ever seen. She could tell Octavia wasn’t lying, and she wondered what on earth had driven the elegant cellist to this. Then she remembered a few overheard remarks while passing by the Royal Guards’ quarters, and Celestia sighed with a rueful look, making an intelligent guess.

“See that you don’t, little pony. I am off to bed, and pray do not disturb me.”

Celestia hesitated, and then delivered a parting shot wryly. “After all, unlike you—I am not expecting some male.”

With that, she took to her vast wings and quickly disappeared into her rooms, shutting the door with exaggerated but polite firmness. From inside, they heard a faint sound, not unlike someone putting pillows over her head in a fit of pique.

“That went well!” breathed Octavia, entranced.

“How could you?” quavered Stout Heart, shattered. She turned to him.

“Don’t be sad! I can tell she completely understands.”

“I… wish you hadn’t come…”

“I haven’t come yet,” corrected Octavia happily. “As long as I don’t stop you looking out at the big dark nothing, I’m sure I soon will.”

“It’s not fair, it’s just not fair!”

“What do you mean?” asked Octavia. “I thought it was completely fair. And kind. And very understanding. The Princess knows I would not be bringing harm here, and I’m not. Only love…”

Stout Heart shook his head, despairingly. “No, I get that—I can’t believe it, but I get it—but that’s not what I meant.”

Octavia looked inquiring, those deep violet eyes drinking him in acceptingly, even in his dismay. “Then, what?”

He blushed.

“Can’t get rid of the… you know. You’re terrible. I thought my mind would snap when you did that. Now I desperately have to hide a… you know… and there’s no way I can get it to go away. Not now, not after you squeezed it between your… ngg! I can’t stand it. It’s not fair. What am I supposed to do now? How can I stand duty like this?”

Octavia’s eyes danced.

“I can hide it for you.”

Stout Heart shook his head, marvelling at the impossibilities the evening had brought him.

“I’ll just bet you can…”

Silently, like a little green ghost, the unicorn head peered over the balcony.

It was joined by another, which took one look and seized the first one’s mane in its teeth and dragged her back out of sight.

“They’re having a conversation or something!” hissed Lyra desperately.

“Ssh!” retorted Vinyl. “A conversation is exactly what they’re not having… Tavi, I kill you for this, you crazy pony!”

“But what will I do?” whispered Lyra.

Vinyl thought. “Okay,” she whispered. “We wait for your chance, and you get ready. You see the roof edge there? It’s pretty steep but you don’t try to land on it directly, you grab the edge. You’ll be out of sight of Tavi and the guard as soon as you get onto that ledge, the curving one that goes down like a slide. The balcony’s stone, any noise your hooves make hitting it will bounce off it and go up.”

“How do you know that?” whispered Lyra.

Vinyl Scratch rolled her eyes, behind her DJ Pon-3 shades. “Hello? You know what I do for a living, you don’t think I know what sound does?”

“Sorry,” said Lyra, still pressed low to the observatory balcony floor to stay out of sight. She peered at the target roof. It did seem close, appealingly close. It made sense that Vinyl thought she could make the jump. Lyra crept on her belly, inching closer, ready to peer over the balcony at the larger environment.

“Uh… hey… hey hey psst stop!” went Vinyl, but Lyra didn’t listen, and peered over the edge and down.

The target balcony seemed very far below—certainly not safe to jump, though the path from roof-edge to ledge to destination seemed possible. Then, as Vinyl crept up looking worried, Lyra continued to look down. And down. And down…

The roof edge wasn’t quite above the balcony. It was an overhang, it extended out beyond where the balcony went—in fact, the curved ledge had to be followed slightly before it reached the balcony. Instead, the roof edge dangled out over two walkways, far below. Except that wasn’t true… The covered walkway to the observatory, that they’d snuck through in pitch darkness, was far enough below that a pony would break her leg landing on it, but it would take a running jump even to reach it, for it curved outward as if politely skirting around the run-off from the chalet roof that covered Luna’s rooms. The lower balcony, on which Tavi and the guard were dallying, was even farther below, and just as far to the side but in another direction—off to the right, while the observatory walkway curved around from the left. And then, still farther below, was the open walkway to Princess Celestia’s quarters, whose pointy roof stuck its star-decorated spire (and, seemingly, weather-measuring equipment) right up to the level of the observatory balcony. But that, too, wasn’t directly under where Lyra proposed to jump. It was closer—a moderate running jump would easily lead to a horrible death on that stone walkway so far below—but it plainly wasn’t where you would go if you grabbed the chalet roof and slipped.

“No, don’t, please honey…”

Lyra ignored Vinyl’s pleas, and looked straight down, directly under the edge of the chalet roof. As she did, various baroque notions of stonework curved elegantly aside, perhaps with the intention of avoiding rain pouring off that roof, to reveal a yawning drop that went straight past the whole palace and disappeared into darkness and mist, an unguessable distance below.

The mist parted for a moment, and Lyra’s unbelieving eyes picked out a detail, far below, still not directly under the roof-edge but the first thing that could be focussed on. It was hard to focus on it, because it seemed to be moving, and the perspective was befuddling. It was some model, or an odd sort of paintbrush, or something’s tail sticking straight up with fuzzy green fur…

It was a treetop, seen from above, languidly swaying in the breeze blowing through the valley below.

Lyra went white.

The next thing she knew, Vinyl was shaking her, and hissing in her ear, “I told you! Look straight across, it’s an easy jump, but don’t look down! If it wasn’t for that you’d do it in two seconds and not think twice about it. You can still do it, or I’ll bring you back out of here, but you just made it so much harder for yourself…”

Lyra’s teeth chattered, and her eyes were pinpricks. “So… far… down…”

“Told you so. I guess this is crunch time, huh? Time to find out how bad you’ve really got it for Luna. It’s totally okay if you need to back out. I wasn’t going to say anything,” whispered Vinyl, “but Tavi found sort of an old boyfriend. They’re probably kissing or something, she’ll be fine. So if you gotta bail…”

Lyra didn’t budge. Her eyes drifted back over to Luna’s rooms, and they yearned, they pleaded.

“Hoo boy,” said Vinyl softly. “Wow. You’re a better mare than I am, Lyra. Or maybe just more insane? Tell me straight up, which is it gonna be? Safety, or your princess nookie?”

“I must,” breathed Lyra softly. She trembled. “I must. At any cost.”

Vinyl shook her head. “I shouldn’t let you. Not until you settle down. Maybe not even then, you’ve got me doubting it now… it’s very simple, you jump maybe three feet and grab the edge of the roof. Not the bottom edge! The side, with that gingerbread crap on it. You twist around to reach the ledge, and then you scooch over a bit and you’re good. Look at how fancy that stuff is on the edge, lots of stuff to grab onto, just wrap your legs around it and you won’t slip. Or we could go home.”

Lyra blinked. “What? No…”

“Well, we’ll have to go home anyway if Tavi isn’t making conversation. I expected better from her, she knows she has to cover our sounds. They’re pretty far down but you’ll still make a noise when you hit… the roof, I mean! I don’t know how loud. If they’re kissing, that’s not very useful.”

Vinyl crept over to the front of the observatory balcony, and peered over, furtively. “I don’t think they’re kissing. She’s facing the wrong direc…” Her jaw dropped. “Oh, no fucking way.”

“What?” squeaked Lyra.

“Ssh! I don’t believe this. You might only have a moment. Listen for it. I’ve lived with Tavi for years, and this isn’t the first guy she’s brought home—though she said he was kinda special. I know her ways. If she’s doing what I think she’s doing, there’s one moment where she’ll start panting real loud and making kinda amazing noises and… listen, listen!”

From far below, Octavia began to whimper and moan.

Lyra’s gaze met Vinyl’s, and they stared at each other. From below, far below, Octavia began to pant wildly, and cry out in passion louder and louder.

Vinyl’s eyes were all shocked recognition.

“Two… one… now.”

Lyra turned, charged, and flung herself off the balcony into space.

Everything Old Is New Again

Octavia had nuzzled under Stout Heart’s chin until he smiled, and she’d carefully avoided blocking his gaze at any point. She had not carefully avoided his cock, however. She’d nuzzled that with even more delight, gazing rapt as it swelled to daunting girth and stiffness.

“Thought you were going to hide that for me,” Stout Heart murmured, his eyes scanning the horizon, his ears pivoting dutifully to pick up any stray noises.

Octavia had spotted that, and frowned. “Mm. Yes, I’d better,” she said, and rotated herself, briefly gritting her teeth for some reason as she tensed something he couldn’t see. For a moment, she wriggled her hips in front of him, and his eyes welded themselves to the bountiful jiggle, but then she was lowering herself, inching backwards until she felt his touch.

He was sitting on the ground, head raised, cock jutting out at a jaunty angle and well braced, and Octavia positioned herself so she could press back onto him and join him in his cozy sitting position, only impaled to the neck on stallionhood. And he smiled as he watched her press backward out of his peripheral vision—but his ear twitched as she began to lean back against his cock.

“Mmmmh… ohhhh… hhh… hhh….”

“Um… honey?” said Stout Heart. “Take it easy…”

“Unnh! nrrrh!”

The sensations of her plush but taut pussy began to make his eyes cross. It was as if she wasn’t going to fit—he’d penetrated her before, but this time Octavia was like trying to fuck the neck of a bottle—a wriggling, quivering, frantic bottle.

“Ahhh! Nhhhh!”

“Octavia? Hey… relax, and also I gotta listen for enemies, okay?”

She twisted her head around, and said, “In a… minute! A friend of mine… taught me this. Cramping up. For, nnggh! …fun?”

Stout Heart’s ears splayed sideways in shock. “You can make yourself be this tight on purpose?”

Octavia grinned wickedly. “Feels… good, does it not?”

He gulped. “Go ahead. Gosh. Wow…”

Octavia braced herself, and pushed. She was almost sure she’d heard noises from far above. She tensed her vagina even harder, letting it cramp up, and then worked her hips, shoving herself against the unyielding bulk, writhing with savage pleasure as his cock’s thickness began to pry her open and wedge inside.

“Hhh… unnnh… hhh… hhh! Uhhh! HHH! HHH! NHH!”

Stout Heart’s swollen flare disappeared inside Octavia’s vagina, and as it split her ruthless tightness it got past her strained vaginal muscles—and kept going, no longer resisted, and his shaft wedged smoothly into her in a single fluid motion, her weight impaling her on stallion erection.

Far below, as Lyra arced through the air, the elegant Octavia screamed in guttural lust as Stout Heart’s fat cock slid fully into her—and then, Lyra hit the edge of the roof, and scrabbled for a hold.

Her foreleg wrapped around the side of the roof, seizing a projecting form of carved and painted wood, which promptly broke off. Lyra slid down a foot, her hindquarters kicking as they dangled off the bottom edge of the roof, and her foreleg seized onto another projection—which creaked.

Vinyl Scratch stared in horror, as Octavia’s scream of lust died away into fading echoes. Through the dying reverberations, both Vinyl and Lyra could hear a faint ‘tonk’ as the piece of roof molding bounced off some rock or ledge, far below.

Lyra had stopped kicking. Her shapely hind legs dangled over the abyss, and her tail hung limply as she clung to what was left of the roof edge. Vinyl couldn’t even breathe, she just watched, her shades crooked on her face…

Lyra heaved herself forward, grabbing a fresh hold. Her tail thrashed. Vinyl whimpered.

From far below, the Royal Guard said, “Are you okay?”

Octavia let out a shuddering, sensuous moan as Lyra kicked silently far above her head. Another piece of roof trim came loose, tumbling as it fell, and Vinyl slunk forward to see where it went. This one arced in a curve, missing all the ledges and outcroppings, eventually disappearing into the swaying treetop far below.

Vinyl’s eyes slowly lifted. Lyra’s hoof kicked the air, her rump clenching as she tried to gather strength for another fresh hold higher up.

Vinyl gulped. “Can’t be heavier than, oh, eight decks? Twelve?” she breathed. “Come on, DJ, you can do this…”

Her horn glowed, no longer mindful of possible watchers, and a pool of light appeared under Lyra’s rear hoof.

Lyra’s head turned, her eye shocked, her gaze a question. Vinyl had said there was no chance of her supporting a full-grown pony’s weight with her telekinesis, and Lyra couldn’t argue, for she wouldn’t have been able to either.

Vinyl returned that gaze grimly, her lower lip stuck out in a pout, and gave one little nod, screwing her eyes shut.

Lyra put her weight on the little pool of magic light, and Vinyl collapsed, her mind whiting out with the pain of telekinetic overstress, sprawling limp onto the observatory balcony with her tail thrashing in silent anguish—but the foothold did not give way.

It took only a moment—she couldn’t have sustained it for more than a moment. A crackling haze of magic force surrounded Vinyl’s horn, linking to the foothold, and then it was over. Lyra had got off the roof edge and was clinging to the curving ledge that led down to her heart’s desire. The weight was gone again. Vinyl heard the faint sounds of Lyra sliding down the ledge, and then the click of her hooves hitting the stone balcony outside Princess Luna’s quarters—and then, steady walking, the clop of dainty hooves proceeding inside as Lyra sought her destiny. They were little trebly sounds, not deep resonant vowels and voices, and they bounced up, just as she’d predicted—nopony noticed. They’d done it.

Vinyl Scratch trembled, staring into space. Her shades hung askew off her nose. Gradually, she realized that one of the lenses was now cracked—and from the feel of it, the tip of her horn was charred, not even through fucking.

She gulped, the side of her face pressed to the cold stone floor.

“DJ Pon-3, don’t you ever be cool again,” she chided herself, with a shudder.

Then, she thought, and amended that. “Alright, never be THIS cool again…”

Octavia shuddered, still panting heavily, her vagina a steel band around Stout Heart’s throbbing stallionhood.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, worriedly. His ears were laid back. “It doesn’t feel comfortable. It can’t feel comfortable for you, can it?”

She turned her head, and her eyes were dazed, fogged by intensity. “Bear down,” she said.

“What? You mean… tense my… I don’t know what you call it, but down there? Try to get stiffer? Are you sure you want that? You feel really right on me.” He blinked, startled. “I mean tight…”

The corner of Octavia’s mouth curled upwards in amusement at the slip. “Go on…”

Stout Heart obeyed, and the stallionhood got stouter for a moment as he tensed his whole groin area, and Octavia shuddered as if struck by lightning and let out a soft sweet cry. Inside her, Stout Heart’s erection pried her a bit wider, flooding her with bittersweet sensation, dark chocolate laced with hot peppers, delicious and dangerous pleasure-pain.

And rather than pushing through that zone, working that cock in her, seeking to loosen her up and melt her and ease things over to normal lovemaking, he just sat with it and let her hover endlessly on that edge. She’d set it up for herself, knowing she could start off tight as a filly, knowing how intense it would be for her and him. It wouldn’t take much thrusting before she’d sag into a drooling puddle of quivering mare pleasure—she could feel it on the horizon for her, knew she was going to end up a boneless heap of ecstacy—but for the time being, her whole vagina throbbed and ached, still cramped tight, seemingly creaking under the strain, and Stout Heart’s penetrating cock felt like she was being fucked by a dragon, or a house, or a spire of the palace.

Octavia licked her lips, trembling, her pulse pounding in her ears.

“Just… keep doing that for a while.”

He’d relaxed, and still throbbed in his tight confines but with less of a harrowing edge to the sensation. “Mmm. Again?”

“W… when I’m not expecting it…” came Octavia’s rich voice.

A slow smile crept across Stout Heart’s face as he watched the darkness, and he sat very still, conserving his energies for the new game.

Lyra walked through the tall glass double doors, gently opening them with her magic, and closing them behind her. As she did, one last moan slipped through the crack—Octavia’s sensual benediction. Then, the doors shut and all outside sounds were sealed off, leaving her alone with a dream.

She walked slowly through the downstairs room, not even seeing her surroundings until she had to step aside to skirt around—what? It was dark, but there was no mistaking that she was in a library. The object in her path seemed like it might be a card catalog.

She turned away, but her eye wouldn’t follow. It had spotted something. It had spotted her name, in the gloom.

Lyra blinked. Why was her name here? She hesitated, and then tentatively allowed her horn to glow and illuminate the card catalog.

It wasn’t a catalog at all, but a sort of pony-log, and her name was on a card that had been drawn and left out. Drawers were labeled neatly with ranges of names—Ace to Berry Frost, Noteworthy to Orion. Rarity had a drawer all to herself, somehow. Lyra pulled it out and levitated up a old, yellowed card, reading it.

It said, “Suggested to Misty Fly that she look into Rarity’s work for awards ceremony attire—I believe Rarity can resolve the clash between her coat and her mane. Though she is only a filly, her fashion sense is maturing rapidly and soon she may be able to stand on her own four hooves. It is not yet time for her to confront those realities, however: for the time being, she must continue to feel unreasonably gifted and special. It is probably my best hope of transitioning her from her unfortunate situation and leading her to develop and grow—would that I had perceived that more quickly! But she would not have responded until things got to a head. Note: watch closely for signs of pregnancy.”

Lyra’s jaw dropped, and she drew another, later card. It said, “Rarity may be leading Applejack down a path she cannot traverse! I have grave fears about the stability of their relationship. At this point there can be few doubts that Rarity would weather any storms of their affections, but if Applejack drops out of sight or buries herself in work again, I must make a social call. Note: talk of ponies’ extended families, to restore Applejack’s awareness of her strengths in that area. That mare is maddeningly prone to forget that she is loved. See: Applejack, further notes.”

Lyra stared. Luna was the social and romantic coordinator for all of Ponyville, with particular interest in the Element Bearers? What was she doing keeping extensive notes in a card catalog?

Her eyes dropped to her name, and in the light from her horn she could see it was on one of the cards, and she read what it said about her.

“Lyra is a thoughtless mare, but it is hard to tell how much of this is due to her high-strung nature, and how much is simply youth. It seems to persist beyond what is timely—my sister seems to think her attractive, which is concerning. Best to turn a blind eye and hope foolish Lyra fixates on some other pony, hopefully not one easily disrupted! It is difficult to imagine where she could possibly belong. She is something of a menace, and it is a mercy she has departed the company of Twilight and Trixie. Note: watch Trixie, if necessary reminding her not to chase ponies through the streets with whips. Note to note: I cannot believe I just had to write that…”

Lyra dropped the card.

Celestia had a crush on her? But… it was not Celestia who haunted her dreams, not Celestia she loved! Luna thought her foolish, callow, thoughtless? A menace? Lyra’s lip quivered, and before she knew what was happening, she was running for the stairwell she saw, clattering up it, galloping down a little corridor looking this way and that with her horn glowing brightly, and when she saw a gleam in the darkness she rushed into the room that presented itself to her—and she stood, trembling and tearful, before Princess Luna herself.

Luna rose up, in shock, staring wide-eyed at the distraught little unicorn who cried out in anguish, “I’m sorry! I won’t be thoughtless! Please don’t think I’m a menace!”

“What is this?” stammered Princess Luna. “What brings you to our presence at this hour, in this place?”

“I… I…” managed Lyra, trying to overcome what seemed in the note like an infinite wall of contempt and disapproval, and then she burst into tears.

Luna’s lip quivered, and then she’d rushed forward and was hugging the little green unicorn. “Don’t cry! Please don’t cry. What ever is the matter, Lyra?”

Lyra wiped her eyes. “But… I’ve felt you in my dreams and I fell in love and I came here to offer myself to you and then it turns out Princess Celestia likes me instead but I don’t want her, I need you more than anything, and you think I’m an awful mean thoughtless pony and you called me a menace and I didn’t mean to hurt the feelings of those ponies, I just get all excited…”

“What, what?” said Luna, her wings furling and unfurling in anxiety. “Who said Sister likes you? Again, what is all this?”

Lyra gulped. “I love you, but you made little cards about everypony and you were just writing on mine! You said you should turn a blind eye and hope foolish Lyra fixates on some other pony, like I’m just a problem running around hurting ponies! I don’t want you to turn a blind eye on me! How could you write all those things, Princess?”

Luna’s gaze was stricken.

“We did not. They are Celestia’s.”

Time stopped for Lyra, hearing those words, as her universe flipped over and reshuffled itself in her mind.

“She can’t remember everything,” said Luna. “There is too much. She is too old. She is very dedicated…”

Luna gulped, and continued.

“And we were not writing them. We were reading… and trying to see reason.”

Luna’s eyes seemed so huge, so deep. There was so much suffering in them. Lyra gazed into them, and said in a little voice, “Did ya?”

Princess Luna’s voice trembled. “Nay.”

Lyra’s thoughts whirled. She looked away, trying to get it straight. It wasn’t Luna writing those things—it was Celestia who considered her thoughtless and disruptive (and, looking back at her history, the Princess had a point). It was Celestia grateful she had left Twilight and Trixie, Celestia who considered her a challenge and a menace. And it was Celestia’s sister who was said to find her attractive…

Lyra looked back at Princess Luna, and the Princess was shaking. She gazed into Luna’s eyes, and saw an echo of her own high-strung madness, her own exhausting urgency and hungers, but on a vastly grander scale.

Luna teared up as she gazed upon the little green unicorn. She gulped again, and spoke.

“Thou are not the harmful, foul menace here, little pony.”

Her body was trembling against Lyra’s, and suddenly Lyra became very calm, and everything made sense. Her feelings, the haunting of her dreams, this shame, her whole life—everything. She looked right into Luna’s tearful, guilt-ridden, hungry eyes, and spoke to her.

“I love you more than anything. Please let me give myself to you in every way. I am all yours and that’s the only place I should ever be.”

Luna didn’t respond, and Lyra leaned closer.

“Please love me back. Please.”

“That isn’t the point,” muttered Luna.

“Yes, it is,” said Lyra, with perfect, arrogant certainty.

Princess Luna shook—and then, suddenly, Lyra’s breath was knocked out of her. The Princess had seized her in a desperate embrace, wrapping her in ebony wings that shuddered and quaked. “I do! Oh, Celestia forgive me, I do…”

Lyra wriggled, and let out a clear, chiming laugh with what breath she had left. “That… oof! wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The Princess pulled back and stared at her in disbelief. “Do our ears deceive us? Lyra, this is terrible! We are being punished for seeking to corrupt and ravish a helpless pony, and we are at it again, and thou seest not the problem?”

“Ooooh,” squeaked Lyra, “you’re really at it again? Really?”

Luna glared at her. “Why, little pony, are you seemingly so filled with glee about it?”

“Because I’m yours,” said Lyra. “So this time—you get to go through with it.”

Luna arched a skeptical eyebrow. She released Lyra, and stared at her. “Mad filly. We have not consented to a thing. We are being punished, I repeat. Maybe I can put it in terms you understand, and speak in the manner of a modern-day pony. Lyra, what gives you the right?”

“To do what?” challenged Lyra. “To love you? Maybe it was when our eyes met. Maybe it’s because we’re so much like each other. Maybe I understand you where other ponies wouldn’t.”

Luna’s eyes narrowed. “You’re another throwback. I can feel it in you. Where is the sense in you serving me?”

That made Lyra blink. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“Thou clearly seekest…”

“No,” said Lyra, “no no no. You’ve got it all wrong.” Her eyes gleamed, that manic edge making it seem perfectly natural to contradict an alicorn Princess thousands of years old. “For such a wise Princess you’ve got some funny ideas. I’ve never been very good at getting ordered around. You’re not going to do that.”

Luna blinked. “We’re not?”

Lyra shook her head, minty-green mane tossing as she did. “No way! If that’s what you get punished for, you should be fine. I don’t think you really need that as much as you think you do. You’re just stuck in old habits.”

Luna’s jaw dropped. “Indeed! This is thy love, mad filly? Telling your Mistress…”

Lyra’s little hoof touched her lips, and Princess Luna stopped, shocked.

“Not Mistress. Rarity tried to do that and it didn’t go well at all,” said Lyra. “Let’s make it a lot simpler. I know what you need.”

Her luminous golden eyes dilated. Luna sank into them, their bold confidence, so unlike the subservience she’d imagined was part of love and sex. It echoed some things that she’d found captivating about Trixie Lulamoon. She found herself saying, “And what, pray tell, dost we needeth from…”

“You’re horny,” accused Lyra, eyes gleaming happily. “It must’ve been a long time you went without, it’s making you crazy. I love you more than anything, so let me take the pressure off and maybe you’ll feel better and be less crazy? How about that, doesn’t that make sense?”

Luna dropped her gaze, and muttered, “Long time, yes. Thou could say that.”

Lyra frisked, with a little squeak of delight, and Princess Luna started trembling again, her wings lifting.

“Let’s have sex! I bet you’ll feel much better once you’ve had sex!”

“And how,” said Luna archly, “dost thou propose we do that?”

“Oh!” blinked Lyra. “I brought this thing, it should help. Twilight has one, so does Rarity. I can use it on you, though what would really be exciting is if you use it on m…”

Luna’s horn was glowing, and she trailed off staring at it. It was really something to see. Princess Luna had a massive, massive horn, completely out of the unicorn class. Lyra whimpered, her knees wobbling as Luna’s magic opened her little saddlebag and drew out her magic bit.

Luna’s legs were shaking, and she was breathing heavily, almost panting, her eyes not quite focussed, every bit as lust-maddened as Lyra. She shook her head as if to clear it, and muttered one final objection.

“I’m too pent up… I fear I may come, ah… violently…”

Lyra’s eyes widened, and her legs gave way entirely, and she landed on her butt with a squeak and a squish, her body quivering. She knew what Luna really meant, by that. Her eyes stayed locked on Luna’s horn, and she began to pant excitedly.

Princess Luna had worn many expressions, from guilt to frustration to annoyance, but as she looked on the little pony who’d come to give her devotion, the pony she’d stalked in dreams and forbidden herself from desiring too avidly, the pony that bounced up behind crowds with squeaks of glee and had the incredible nerve to tell a Princess what to do, the pony that now sat trembling expectantly in her bedroom with mouth hanging open and vagina winking spastically against the rug… Princess Luna smiled, wider and wider.

“Oh, Lyra…”

Lyra made a little squeaky noise of sheer excitement as the magic bit floated towards Luna’s mouth. “Eeee…”

“As thou wish,” said Princess Luna, her body shaking with its need—and she bit down on the cylinder of gleaming metal.

Lyra squealed, as she felt alicorn magic seize her bodily and lift her, whisking her into the air and plunking her on all fours on the bed. She felt Princess Luna leaping toward her, but before Luna could mount, Lyra whirled and flipped onto her back, throwing her forelegs and hindlegs wide. Luna reared, startled, mighty wings flapping, a bold deep-blue erection jutting from between her legs.

“I want to watch!” squeaked Lyra. She hesitated, and then repeated herself. “Like this. I want to watch. I wanna SEE…”

Princess Luna’s eyes widened, and then she bowed her head. She snorted, with amusement, pawing the bed with a forehoof. “Thou‘re unique…”

“I’m all yours,” said Lyra, heart hammering in her chest. “Love me?”

Luna dipped her head further, smiling. Her nose nuzzled Lyra’s tender, pert vagina, sniffing approvingly. Then, as Lyra’s eyes widened, Princess Luna’s head dipped still lower—and her massive, bulky horn began to rub and stroke Lyra’s belly, the base of it nuzzling her mons.

“Eeeeee….” squealed Lyra, and began to pant twice as fast.

“H’w do you w’nt it?”

Lyra’s eyes begged frantically for anything, everything, and Luna’s head lifted enough to read the expression. She smiled at Lyra again, a quivery over-intense smile with the eyes far too bright, and suddenly Princess Luna was no longer asking, she was telling.

“ALL th’ w’y…”

Lyra shuddered, and spread her hindlegs more, tilting her hips and frantically trying to aim them for Luna as she moved in, lowered herself…

“Eeeeeh! Nnnhh! Oooh!”

As Luna’s cock pressed against Lyra’s taut, silky nook, Lyra shivered and bucked underneath her, body writhing in a series of immediate orgasms that left her vagina slickly lubricated. Luna nudged her again, with the same result, and lifted an eyebrow. She had to wait for a moment for Lyra to return to earth, and then she spoke.

“Fa’r warning, I’m hold’ng back at f’rst. Okay?”

Lyra grinned madly up at her.

“So am I,” she said, and thumped Princess Luna’s sides with her forehooves, as if they were spurs.

Luna’s eyes widened in shock, and then she grinned savagely around the bit, and without a moment’s hesitation, she swung her slender hips forward, and sank magical alicorn cock deeply into Lyra with a single virile thrust.

Lyra let out a shriek, and wrapped her hindlegs around Luna’s body as well as she could—she clung to her new lover with greedy delight, savoring that lithe powerful form pressed against her breasts and belly, jolting with orgasmic release as Luna’s cock thrust within her. She cried out wantonly, her body writhing, crazed with pleasure, trying to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head from sheer sensual overload.

Luna grinned around the bit, working her hips and savoring the sensation of wielding a magical cock again, after so terribly long. Lyra was really special, her pussy snug and eager and quiveringly aroused, and the sensual electricity was building up rapidly when Luna’s eyes flew wide. Lyra’s hooves were rubbing the bases of her wings, which immediately went bolt erect. “Ghhh!”

“ALL the way!” moaned Lyra, and then let out another orgiastic shriek, body shaking as Luna’s hips hunched against her fevered mound.

Luna’s eyes were shocked. She’d expected to build things up her way, but her little unicorn lover knew just what to do to goad things on with uncompromising speed. Luna gritted her teeth around the bit, erection going stiffer to the sound of a lewd wail from Lyra beneath her. She screwed her eyes shut, as Lyra’s hooves fondled her wing shanks and rubbed the muscled roots, and Princess Luna whimpered with arousal, for she had found a lover who matched her hungers. All she could do was hold back her final climax, knowing that once the magic cock started to come, she had no chance of self control at all.

“Eyes!” wailed Lyra desperately. “Op! En! NnnHHH! Aaahhh! Open! Your eyes, aahhhh!”

Luna had been nudging the cock to Lyra’s deepest depths with her slim deer-like hips, with her eyes tightly closed, allowing her orgasm to be carried along by Lyra’s wing-fondling, but when she heard the tone of Lyra’s voice she stopped and stared. Lyra’s gaze was desperate.

“All I ask! I’ve got to be looking in your eyes!” she said. She didn’t explain further, didn’t say ‘because it might be the last thing I ever see’, didn’t do anything more than hit Princess Luna with a pleading look, but behind those golden eyes her brain was telling her the forces being unleashed would destroy her, and her heart and soul were overruling the brain effortlessly and saying, bring it…

Princess Luna didn’t start moving again immediately. She gazed deeply into those pleading, golden eyes, reading the longing, the vulnerability, intuitively understanding what was being said. She snorted a deep breath through flared nostrils, and Lyra quivered, impaled under her, completely surrendering.

Luna’s eyes didn’t blink, as she shifted those lithe hips back and forth gently. Her heart pounded in her massive alicorn chest, but Lyra’s hammered doubletime. Lyra squirmed, shivering madly, eyes too bright, teeth chattering and mouth in a rictus grin.

Luna took a deep breath through her nose, and began to work her swollen cock back and forth more eagerly, still staring Lyra in the eye. Her huge, bulky horn began to glitter faintly, and Lyra panted, wriggling, staring at it entranced, then returning her gaze to Luna’s eyes through sheer force of will and refusing to be distracted from them again.

Luna shifted her hind hoof to get more leverage, a more fluid thrust, and her motion became a sort of languid churning, thick stallionhood burying itself over and over within Lyra’s body, emerging glistening with unicorn juices, then gracefully plunging to her womb again. Her nostrils flared, and her eyes grew more fierce, still not blinking.

Lyra bit her lip tenderly, once—and reached up with forehooves, and resumed massaging the bases of Princess Luna’s erect wings.

The reaction was instant. Luna’s body jolted, and her eyes went feral. Lyra lost herself in them, her lips parting in a soundless cry of joy, the stallion cock plunging more and more eagerly to her depths, and all the time she firmly rubbed and fondled those mighty wings…

Luna never blinked, even as her body convulsed, shoved horsecock up Lyra in a mad hunching spasm, and gushed come violently into her womb. She kept her eyes locked on Lyra’s in a terrifying, wild stare, knowing what was being asked of her.

Lyra shrieked as the stallionhood plunged into her and cut loose, drenching her pussy in magical alicorn come, and her eyes were full of shock and wonder as she let go and surrendered to her climax completely. Her body was already shaking in continuous orgasm, but when she felt that cock spurting inside her in brutal, ecstatic throbs, she could hold back no more, and her horn flared to life and blasted magic violently at the wall…

…and Princess Luna cried a guttural cry through her tight-gripped magic bit and allowed herself to come, her horn exploding with light and magic.

The bolt blasted out, arcing through the air, and then it found Lyra’s horngasm and locked on with a savage jolt, and Lyra’s whole body went rigid—and then, Luna’s magic followed it back to Lyra’s elegant little unicorn horn, slamming into Lyra’s pride and completing the connection effortlessly, in spite of Lyra’s full magic-gushing release.

“GrrrrAAAHHHH!”

Princess Luna couldn’t help herself, she roared and shook as she poured alicorn magic in massive psychic orgasm. Lyra shook like a pennant in a high wind, and screamed. Blinding white light poured out of her eyes, her mouth, her skin glowed with a fierce internal light, and she kept shaking and spasming madly even as the magic stallionhood continued to gush and spurt inside her. She writhed, screaming, racked by unendurable ecstacy, the glow from her body becoming brighter and brighter as Princess Luna hunched and roared and flooded her with an uncontrolled torrent of magic.

There was a flash and a heavy thump, centered around Princess Luna’s horn-base, and all the light went out, as Luna collapsed onto her lover.

She panted for a moment, and then spat the bit out on the bedspread. Her heart was pounding in her ears. She hadn’t got off like that in… ever?

Something smelled funny.

Luna sniffed the air, and then gasped in alarm and horror. Her horn glowed feebly as she kindled the lights of the room, and she had to try it twice because she was so drained that the first time, it didn’t happen. She stared at her hoofiwork—or horniwork, in several senses of the word.

Lyra lay like a dead thing, jaw hanging open. Her eyes stared at nothing. Her body was literally smoking. Her pussy gaped sadly, the stallionhood withdrawn from it and even the magically-induced gushers of stallion-semen, gone.

More than half of Lyra’s lovely horn was burned away.

Princess Luna’s mind stopped, as she took in the sight. At that moment, she loved the little green unicorn more than anything she’d ever loved in her life, yet she had destroyed that which loved her best…

Then, as the full realization sank in, something wonderful happened. Lyra drew in a deep breath with a hideous croaking noise, her chest rising, and Luna slowly crumpled against her in grovelling tears, face pressed to her pony lover’s still-smoking body. She shuddered, wings flapping uncoordinatedly, racked with bitter sobs of guilt and joy, pressing her ear to Lyra’s chest to hear the determined beating of that little pony heart.

After a minute of this, she saw something white out of the corner of her vision, and her eyes turned, slowly, to see the astonishing sight of Princess Celestia, there in her room.

Celestia was just… looking, at the two of them. Just looking, her expression unreadable. Luna was so wrung out, drained, whipsawed by unbearable grief and debilitating relief, that she could not put together a coherent thought, and she just looked stupidly back at her older sister for a moment.

She gulped. She spoke. “What do you see, sister?”

“A mystery, explained.”

“I swear, I did not plan this!”

“Not you, sister,” said Celestia. “Not you. I shall have to speak with that mare.” She shook her head. “And yet, for all that, she did not deceive me. Astonishing.”

Luna stared in wonder at her sister. Beside her, Lyra breathed shallowly, then stirred and made a faint whimpering noise. Without even a conscious thought, Princess Luna pulled Lyra closer with a wing, and Lyra snuggled up and promptly passed out again. Princess Celestia watched this, her eyes widening.

“I… see.”

“You are not angry?” asked Luna.

Celestia shook her head, marvelling. “I am… amazed. Not least at my miraculous little ponies. No, I am not angry, Luna.”

“Thank you for that, beloved sister,” said Luna. She hesitated, and asked, “Whatever were you talking about? Somepony deceiving you—or not deceiving you? And how is it you suddenly appeared by my side, in this intimate moment?”

“I was wakeful,” explained Princess Celestia. “I had to be attentive, for Stout Heart was being distracted.” She chuckled. “I’m sure he remained watchful, but clearly this is why she was doing it. Ah, my ponies… I knew it couldn’t be for some dark purpose, but now some of the clouds are lifting. So it was all to sneak this unicorn pony into your bed?”

It was Princess Luna’s eyes’ turn to widen. “There were others? Lyra was not alone?”

“Oh yes. Quite a little conspiracy, in fact. I had nothing to do with it, but now that I see what they have done, I wouldn’t change a thing.” Celestia frowned. “Possibly excepting the sex with Royal Guards. I do not think anypony would fault me for wishing to change that. Discipline would suffer dreadfully if that became a thing one did.”

Luna gasped. “You’re joking!”

“I shall ask her please not to do it again,” said Princess Celestia, wryly. “If she would be so good.”

“Rainbow Dash?” guessed Princess Luna. “No, wait, she’s pregnant. Lyra? Hmph. But it didn’t feel like it…”

“Octavia,” replied Celestia, and Luna’s jaw dropped again.

“We don’t know our little ponies at all, do we?” she said weakly.

“Our amazing, our miraculous little ponies,” marvelled Princess Celestia. “In truth, I could not even find it in my heart to scold them for this, sex with royal guards and all. They have done for you what I could not do with all my power. I’m inclined to be grateful.”

Princess Luna gulped, and drew Lyra closer with her wing. Lyra yawned and nestled against her body, and Luna trembled with joy. “Oh, sister. So am I!”

Celestia’s eyes narrowed. “Grateful enough to care for her? Even if I did not know her, I know this scenario. She will not wish to leave you, sister. Regular ponies will no longer interest her, they’ll seem terribly inadequate. That horn will grow back, stronger and better, but it will take time—and you will have to be more gentle with her, while it does.”

“I will!” insisted Princess Luna, her eyes glowing with devotion. “I promise I will!”

“You’ll have to,” snorted Princess Celestia. “Unless I miss my guess, it may be a challenge. I warn you, they find that sort of thing rather irresistible, and I do not easily picture Lyra as being patient. I am sure she will want more of the same—as sure of it as I am sure the sun will rise tomorrow morning. But, sister, hear me: if you burn through all of her horn while flooding her with magic during sex, she will die when it’s gone and the magic is no longer catalyzed.”

For a moment, Princess Celestia looked very old, and very haunted.

Luna became solemn. “I understand. I promise, I will never do that.”

“Luna?” said Celestia softly.

“Yes?”

“She… will die.”

Silence fell. Luna drew Lyra’s sleeping body a bit closer still. She looked down for a few long, thoughtful seconds, and when she returned her gaze to Celestia’s, it was somber. “Yes,” she said.

“She’s a unicorn,” said Celestia gently, “a mortal pony. Do you understand that? Truly understand it?”

“Yes,” admitted Princess Luna, “…but I needed to love.”

Princess Celestia smiled. “Yes, you did. Sleep well, dear sister…”

Quietly, she departed, leaving Luna alone to cuddle the limp, sleeping form of the little green unicorn pony who’d come to offer her love and life.

She considered this, thinking about her own choices and the biddings of her own heart. Luna frowned to herself. She had longed for the love of Trixie, yet what had she done? She had tried to seize it by force, she had rationalized herself, and in the end she had accepted defeat, and declared herself not only defeated but destroyed, unfit for pony company, doomed to exile and a limitless life of mourning both before and after her Trixie’s inevitable death.

Yet there had never been ‘her Trixie’, Luna admitted. It had been about herself, always, whether in conquest or defeat or exile. Princess Celestia had despaired of her, for in truth she had remained entirely self-absorbed throughout.

Luna stroked Lyra’s sleeping body with an ebony wing. Here was a pony who offered another example—who’d turned up filled with her own self-absorption, been confused and misled, and somehow had responded with a frantic desire to make everything okay. Not for herself—for her love, for Luna. She hadn’t made it about herself and her wishes—she’d opened herself to Luna and her point of view, and then she’d listened and directed things, offered her own opinions, sought to make things better for Luna in her simple and fearsomely direct unicorn mare way.

She had yearned for the love of Luna, but chose to accept it in any way it was offered—even if it cost her own life.

Luna asked herself what love would have meant, had she burned up that eager darling in a paroxysm of lust. Passion was glorious, and for some ponies (or even Princesses) it attained terrifying force—but what grew from the passion? She contrasted the hours she’d spent trying to break Trixie to her will, her very soul yearning for the stubborn blue unicorn’s love—with the shockingly few minutes she’d spent with Lyra.

Again, she had lost herself to passion, again she’d had a firm idea of how things must be, but Lyra had appeared in her bedroom and all that was abandoned instantly. She’d dropped everything and tried to work out what had upset the adorable green unicorn mare. She’d been driven to abandon her pretense of nonchalance within seconds, and embraced her heart’s desire, high on emotion. Lyra had rushed in determined to grovel and do whatever she wanted to win Luna’s heart, only to discover it was already won—and had instantly set about trying to learn what was troubling the alicorn Princess.

Lyra had jumped to the conclusion that Luna’s distress had much to do with intense frustration, and without batting an eyelash, she’d offered herself sexually, without conditions or reservations—yet when things got going, she’d immediately asserted herself, producing a scene that was shared, and wasn’t entirely as expected by either pony.

And in the end, Lyra had offered herself, her very life, up for the benefit of nothing more than Luna’s pleasure and her own—and they’d indulged in passion beyond anything Luna had ever imagined, without any of the trappings she’d thought were so passionate. There were no whips or chains or shackles, no mind games, nothing.

Their shared madness burned together, illuminating every outline of what Luna and Lyra considered to be love, and defined its shallowness perfectly and eloquently. Passion was, indeed, the fire to be willingly destroyed in.

Luna drew Lyra closer to her with that vast, protective wing—the very wing that Lyra had correctly spotted as an erogenous zone and gone after, to fan Luna’s passion to endless heights.

They had passion. What, then, was love?

Luna’s face grew serious as she looked across the bed, at where she’d dropped the magic bit. That was passion, in a magical artifact, distilled and refined. It enhanced passion. It goaded ponies on to do mad things. Like…

Luna froze. How much of the delicious, entrancing Lyra whose passionate dreams she’d haunted, how much of the incandescent green mare who’d come right into her bedroom—how much of the Lyra she loved, was because of the magic bit? Had she been wearing it all the time, sleeping with it, distorting herself by it, and was that the reason she’d come to rival the passions of a fullgrown alicorn mare?

Luna held very still for a minute, considering.

Then, her horn glowed, though it was still weak from the sexual release it had vented earlier. The magic bit lifted off the bedspread, and floated across the room. Then, it floated out the door, and found its way to a storage closet, quite a way down the hall.

That would put it out of range, and it would distort Lyra’s heart and mind no more—unless she chose to use it, on a more limited basis.

Luna bent her head reverently, and lifted her wing. The sleeping unicorn stirred, but was still too wiped out to wake, even when Princess Luna gently kissed the stump of her burnt-up horn.

“You became a lot like me,” said Luna, softly. “But it’s not all about me, is it?”

She smiled down at her sleeping lover, tears glistening in her eyes.

“I will nurse you back to health, sweet darling. Nothing would make me happier. And,” she said, and gulped, “I’m going to learn who you really are, even if it’s not exactly what I thought. I’m going to learn you by heart, my love—because I give you my heart.”

The corner of Lyra’s mouth twitched upward.

One eye peeked open.

“How much do you want to bet I’m still ‘horny’?” she said, hoarsely, and winked.

Luna’s jaw dropped, and she stared at the little green wiseacre, who pretended to go back to sleep… and then, Princess Luna laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

Earlier, Octavia had become increasingly drunk on sensuous pleasure, having got through her main task of guard distraction. She was certain she’d heard Scratchie and Lyra up on the rooftops while she’d wriggled and pressed backwards onto Stout Heart’s cock, but nopony had heard anything shortly after that, for she’d just about screamed her lungs out when she took all of him.

After that, things had been quiet for a while, and she’d spent her time moaning sweetly and getting the shivers when he tensed and stiffened himself in her. Octavia drifted into an ecstatic state, her quivering vagina softening and becoming tender and yielding with such delicious gradualness. Stout Heart was so wonderful! She scolded herself for ever having felt hurt by his comments, even if they were about fat mommy hips. If that was what he liked, she reasoned, let him enjoy it.

She was enjoying him hugely.

Stout Heart smiled foolishly as his eyes scanned the darkened horizon. It was just about the best shift ever—or at least the warmest? He heaved a happy sigh, and his eyes snuck down again to appreciate the luscious roundnesses of Octavia’s amazing ass.

He was truly sunk to the hilt in her, all right—her lovely tail draped him when she wasn’t swishing it across his belly to make him giggle, and his crotch pressed right up against those glorious silky grey cheeks.

It gave him an idea.

Surreptitously glancing down, he jounced himself in place, with a quick twitch of his hips.

He was rewarded by a spectacular quiver and ripple of Octavia’s buttocks, but surprisingly that wasn’t what entranced him most. It was the sound she made, a breathless shivery gasp that spoke eloquently of her unexpected, vivid jolt of pleasure. It seemed to hang in the air, the most beautiful cry ever—for she was clearly the most beautiful (and sexiest) mare ever, and wasn’t it appropriate that her joy and delight was voiced in the most beautiful cries in Equestria?

He did it again.

“Oh, Stout Heart!” moaned Octavia, and her voice was honeyed, redolent of sensual abandonment. He’d never heard anything so wonderful in all his life. So he did it again.

“Ahhh!” she cried, and began to tremble and quiver all over.

Stout Heart grinned. It got better and better—perhaps this was a good time to explore what happened when you took the most beautiful mare in Equestria, and bounced her on your lap until she completely lost her mind. However, he was still on duty, so little tiny bounces would have to do, so he could pretend he wasn’t full-on fucking.

He soon realized the fallacy of that theory.

As he continued to deliver the little tiny jounces, he couldn’t help but look down, and Octavia’s buttocks were bouncing and quivering against him without a pause, and the sight made him go hard as a rock within her, and possibly get a bit longer while he was at it. Then, his attention was drawn by her shuddering gasps for air, her lewd quavery moans that got bolder and bolder until she was crying, “Aaahhh! Ohhhh!” without inhibition. It seemed that determined jouncing could be just about as exciting as deep, fierce thrusting.

Octavia gasped for breath, tossing her mane, her tail thrashing against Stout Heart’s belly as his deep-thrust stallion cock jounced firmly and insistently against her insides. She banged the stone balcony floor with a forehoof, her ears laid back, and squealed—and that was the limit for the hapless Royal Guard. He stopped, and begged, “Octavia, baby, please!”

Octavia twisted back to stare frantically at him. “Don’t stop! Oh, don’t stop, don’t, don’t!”

“But we’re gonna be the loudest things in Canterlot!”

Octavia’s eyes widened. Her nostrils flared in outrage, and she withered him with a haughty stare, and declared, “Stout Heart, you are the most glorious stallion in the universe. I shall keep you, and I am yours forever, and I am composing all of my concertos in honor of your penis from this day forward.”

His jaw dropped. “You what?”

“So finish me, damn it, just like that! I am SINGING your praises to the world and want all Equestria to hear them!”

Stout Heart’s ear twitched. He stared helplessly at the beautiful, adoring, commanding mare who straddled his lap and demanded to sing the joys of his penis to the entire palace.

He reeled in his dangling jaw, and he shrugged—and set to jouncing again, for at that moment, he could no more resist her than he could resist an earthquake.

Octavia looked like she was being hit by an earthquake. She’d got right back to crooning and moaning loudly, but it all caught up with her at once, and first she let out a breathy scream, and then when he kept on going through that, Octavia’s eyes rolled back in her head and her whole body shuddered and quaked, her pussy convulsing onto him in delicious spasms.

With that, Stout Heart went off like a cannon. His body gave a great heave and gushed stallion-come deeply into Octavia in one huge thick spurt—and that was when all hell really broke loose.

Octavia let out a strangely elegant shriek, and it hung in the air like a jewel, and then the night was filled with a wild actinic glare and split by wild, debauched screaming.

Stout Heart glanced around frantically, but he was still coming, still pumping spooge into the most beautiful mare in Equestria, and she was still shuddering and crying out in spite of the fireworks above, and nothing else was happening—nothing was attacking, it was just the searing light and that outrageous screaming. Gradually, his body subsided; gradually, Octavia quieted. Overhead, the light and screaming cut out as abruptly as a thrown switch.

He panted, staring up at what was plainly Princess Luna’s bedroom. “What in Equestria was that? I guess we’re not the loudest things in Canterlot!”

“Honey?” came Octavia’s voice, and he looked back at her to discover she was smiling.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Really. It’s all okay.”

“But what was it?”

“Oh, sweetie!” said Octavia, indulgently. “Even a Princess needs love!”