The days leading up to the big performance go by far too quickly for my liking. Oh sure, the practices are plenty of fun and there’s plenty of bonding time with Blossom, but after tonight, I’ve gotta get dolled up once again for Princess Twilight’s coronation. At the same time though, there’s so much that has been a pain in my flank over the week.

As a result of being caught by Twilight Velvet following that party, one of my punishments involves writing an apology to the Princesses—I’m not sure that one’s actually mandatory, but still—and writing Velvet a two thousand word essay regarding the effects my actions have, on myself and others, through the misuse of school property. Of course, it has to be cited, but not following any specific formatting like you would be on Earth.

Still, that essay? Fuck. That. Shit. It is easily the most overbearing way of getting a student to write two thousand words of “What I did wrong and why I won’t do it again.” I almost wish the mare had given me a blackboard and chalk, telling me to write “I will not get drunk and damage school property,” five hundred times. Then again, does that method ever work? It certainly never seems to stop Bart.

The letter, thankfully, is a much simpler affair.

Dear Princess Luna,

Following the discovery of a cure to my dwarfism and gaining my cutie mark in the process, I may have become highly intoxicated and caused you great shame in my drunken revelry. My actions, however well-intentioned my celebratory gathering may have been, have resulted in the trashing and vandalism of my dorm hall’s common room. You have my sincerest apologies on the matter, Your Highness, for my behavior as your first sponsored scholar in a millennium has assuredly reflected poorly on you. I can only give you my word that I will try my hardest to bring you no further shame.

Faithfully yours,

~Silver Script

P.S. I realize your duties regarding the upcoming coronation likely prevent you and Her Highness Princess Celestia from having much free time this week, but I am aiding a friend in a bit of extra credit work—a little concert in one of the university’s auditoriums the evening prior to the coronation. We would be ever so honored if you both were to attend, but I understand if you are unable to.

There’s no reply during the days leading up to the concert, but I suppose it’s just wishful thinking that one or more of the princesses could attend. That isn’t to say I’m lacking attendance from those in the royal family by relation. Twilight Velvet—mother of the Prince Consort of the Crystal Empire and a future Princess of Equestria—is slated to be in attendance after finding out about the affair. It’s rather surprising that she hadn’t heard about the show earlier, but I’m not about to turn the mare away simply because she was required to punish me. More surprising is the fact that she’s actually interested in going, given that her daughter and the others are arriving later that night. Then again, who would pass up a chance at relaxation the night before a big event?

I’ll admit that the bathhouse has become a bit of a regular thing, in spite of the nominal fee. The facility itself isn’t all that far from the university campus—only a few minutes of walking—making it ideal for students who cannot stand the smaller bathrooms of their dorm rooms, or those unable to come to a compromise with their roommate over bathroom access. Seeing as Gale sometimes gets uppity when I spend too long bathing and preening, and having seen the way the mineral salt in the water makes my coat shine, it’s a no-brainer that I choose to bathe there.

Speaking of the bathhouse, it’s no great surprise that after mentioning that stuff with Aqua Regia during my little rant, Beat had a lot of questions. It definitely gets easier telling the truth of a situation when you’ve already told the story twice. That evening, I opened my heart for the third time in only a month. It feels good to be truthful to my friends.

I find that having a mare compliment your coat’s luster while being fitted for a dress is really nice. While vanity was never a big part of my life as a human guy, this last year I’ve spent as a mare is really giving me an appreciation for appearances. I won’t deny that there’s less diversity in pony facial and body structures compared to humans, but that just means when somebody doesn’t have a handsome or beautiful face to attract a mate, they have to put a lot more effort into looking better.

Here in Canterlot? Appearance can make all the difference. Just being fitted for a dress and the process of purchasing it is exponentially simplified. You just have to walk into the tailor’s shop looking the way you intend to look for whatever event requires an ensemble, ask her to help you find a dress, and then bam. You’re treated like an upper-class citizen, even if the only difference in your appearance from the norm is a tail wrap, a ponytail done with ties matching the wrap, and some crescent moon berets to keep the extra out of your eyes.

After a day of being poked and prodded for measurements, I have my dress for the coronation and the concert. It’s rather nice in my opinion, though Blossom worries it’s a bit too provocative to be wearing to a coronation. It’s a modest dress with lacy black sleeves and a baby blue floral embroidery running up the left side of the skirt and bodice. I don’t think she’s actually complaining though. It might be vain of me to say so, but I think she just wants to keep me to herself. Maybe I should talk to Gale about giving Blossom and I the room for the night.

“Ladies and gentlebeings,” Gearalt announces via the microphone, silencing the crowd as he steps into the spotlight. With his guitar strung across his back and a fedora on his head, he looks ready for a show. “I thank ye all for coming tonight. Truly, it means a lot to me to see so many faces here in the crowd tonight.”

A pony joins him on the stage, clad in a vest and black beret. Behind her floats a drum kit in a glittering pink aura. “That’s right Ger,” Chill Beat agrees. She doesn’t at all cringe as a spotlight beam splits off from Gearalt to track her on stage. “We’ve all been working so hard to bring you some truly unique songs. Even my little sis helped out.”

“Zat is right,” the second griffon in our little group adds, strutting out onto the stage, a hard case for an instrument held firmly in her talons and a bowtie around her neck. Just like with Beat, a beam splits off from the main convergence on Gearalt to herald her onto the stage. “Ve haf been verking so hard over ze past few monts.”

Gearalt nods at her, smiling. “That’s right, Giselle, Beat.” A huge grin splits his face as he turns back to the crowd. “All of this began months ago when Professor Adagio heard about a little performance that went on in the cafeteria. As I recall it, a friend of mine noted that a tune I’d been working out over lunch seemed to be in need of lyrics, which she so generously provided.” The griffon bard chuckles, as though he’s fondly remembering something. “I’m sure many of you here even recall that particular event. From the outside, it might have even looked like a mare serenading a sandwich.”

The crowd breaks out into mild laughter and applause, interrupting him. “Anyway, Professor Adagio heard about the little performance, and a bet was made,” he continues once the laughter dies down. “Extra credit if I can put together a quality musical performance, with the leading vocal role being taken by a pony whose special talent relates nothing to the art of the song.”

Gearalt turns and waves a claw in my direction. Beside me, Blossom squeals giddily, watching as a beam of light comes to greet us on the edge of the stage. I almost want to warn her not to ruffle her dress, but given how many pleats of lace there are, it’s probably a moot point. “Without further ado, I present to ye our vocalist for the night, Silver Script!” he exclaims, sounding almost as though going for a cage match announcer impression.

I hesitate at the edge of the spotlight, waiting for the actual cue. “Our first song is an original piece written by the beautiful Miss Ice Blossom, who will be joining us tonight on supporting vocals.” Again he waves in our direction, and this time, we both step out into the spotlight. “Silver and Blossom, me lovely little lovebirds, come on down!”

I step up to the mic in the center of the stage, smiling warmly at the audience before nuzzling Blossom’s cheek. The faces are almost indistinct as a result of the spotlight messing with my low-light vision, but I can almost make out a few people I recognize in the crowd, be they faces from previous classes, encounters in hallways, or even just random encounters on campus. There, not two seats down from Gaius and Gale in the reserved seating, is Twilight Velvet.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I know you’re all being thanked an awful lot for your attendance tonight, but before we get on with the show, I simply must thank you all for coming,” I say with a laugh. “I figure you’ll enjoy the show one way or another, be it at our expense or profit, but seeing all these faces here makes it all seem worth it.” I give the guitarist a nod, watching him and the others set up their equipment, before facing the crowd. “Now, let’s get on with the show before my nerves get the best of me.”

The soft, melancholy tune of Giselle’s viola fills the air, and I suck in a breath, steeling myself to sing.

“Alright everybody, we’re going to take a short break so that Silver can prepare herself for the other song we’ve prepared for you all,” Gearalt announces as I walk backstage, leaning against Blossom for support. There’s no explanation for why I feel so shaky other than nerves, and maybe a bit of oxygen deprivation during stretched syllables. Still, that’s one song down, and I have a good feeling about the next. “Don’t worry, though. The three of us will keep you entertained.”

I can’t help but grin as she leads me over to a small couch. “That was wonderful, Silver! Can you believe the applause we received?” she squeals, beaming. “I never thought a duet would work on the chorus as it did, but I guess it is just like onee-chan said.”

“‘You two together produce the perfect resonance,’” I reply, quoting her sister in a playful tone. “‘You two can make some beautiful music together,’ if you know what I mean.”

“Oh! Stop it, Silver! You’re being a lascivious flirt,” she groans, blushing. She pushes away gently, and moves over to an ice bucket on the nearby table. She gives me this wry look before grabbing the bottled water. “Again, I might add.”

I can’t deny that. Nope, definitely not after blurting out something about her having permission to unbirth me. Whether I was stressed or not, that is still a thing that happened. “Aww, but it’s just so exciting!” I cry in jest. “Okay, so I’m a pervert; if it ever bothered you, you certainly didn’t show it when we shared a bed under Lyra’s roof.”

Okay, yes; it is mean of me to make a blushing mare blush harder with insinuations and double entendres just to get a rise out of her. Still, she knows what I mean, just like she knows that beyond the occasional flirt, I’ve never officially pressed the issue of taking our relationship beyond platonic love. I guess even now, I’m still testing the waters.

Her silence reminds me that I’ve made things incredibly awkward, and given that we don’t have long to relax, I should make the best of it. “I know it’s kind of a strange time to bring this up, but I finally understand what’s been bugging me about that song,” I say idly, accepting a bottle of water from her when she finally joins me on the couch. “Bugging might be the wrong word, really, but you know how I said the lyrics were familiar? They were almost exactly the same as a song I once encountered in a piece of interactive media back in my world.

“Now, before you get the wrong impression, I’m only pointing out another weird thing about the relationship between this world and the one I was born in.” Her growing look of anxiety lessens at this, but she raises her eyebrow questioning at me, as though beckoning me to explain. “It’s always at the oddest times that I notice these things, but I always encounter these similarities at the strangest times, and this time, it’s at a time that I’m really happy.

“So what if the song in that game was played during a scene where love that was never intended by fate blossomed?” I ask myself aloud, before downing the bottle of water. “This isn’t some game with a bittersweet ending, and we aren’t two characters brought together by retarded circumstances. My love for you is as real as the wings on my back.”

“So what you are saying is that my song has reminded you of your love for me, in spite of the negative connotations of that recognition?” she asks hopefully.

I look down at my hooves. “Blossom, I don’t have to tell you everything that I’ve lost,” I whisper. “I love you with all my heart, and your song reminded me that I don’t want to be the pony that was just the dream of a culture long dead, doomed to end the dream and fade away.” My voice begins to crack, and tears rim my eyes. “I just want you to be my happy ending, Ice Blossom.”

“Silver, that’s so—eeep!”

Gearalt pops his head between the curtains, startling the both of us. “Alright, we’re up now, Silver.” He catches a glimpse of my face, and quickly looks worried. “You okay? Do you need a minute?”

Without a second thought, I shake my head. “No, I’m good,” I reply, giving my lover a reassuring smile. “I think what I’m feeling now matches the tone of my song perfectly.”

The spirited leap to my hooves belies how somber my conversation with Ice Blossom has left me. I honestly wonder whether or not my voice will stay steady during my performance; it occurs to me that a little tremble in the right place might improve the song. Maybe I can even channel some of my anxiety and stress into the song. This might be interesting.

I follow Gearalt through the stage curtains just in time to pass Beat and Giselle as they leave the stage. They both give me an encouraging nod to bolster my confidence. Striding out to center stage, I steady my breath before leaning in close to the microphone. Ever so gently, I flick my ear to signal my readiness to my partner. “Many of you might not know this, but I’m not originally from around here. I grew up with people whose religious beliefs might seem strange to you, but in spite of that, their hymns are no less beautiful,” I explain as I straighten out one of the lace sleeves on my dress. “Let me sing for you a song of my people.” I just hope its message doesn’t go too far over their heads.

“There are loved ones in the glory,” I begin softly, smiling as Gearalt joins in with his guitar on the word loved, “whose dear forms you often miss. When you close your earthly story, will you join them in their bliss?

“Will the circle be unbroken? By and by; by and by,” I continue, slipping into the first iteration of the chorus. “Is a better home awaiting in the sky, in the sky?”

I reach out gently with one wing, and grab the microphone stand, pinning it to my side, so that I may walk about the stage. “In the joyous days of childhood, oft they told of wondrous love,” I add, sauntering to the front of the stage. “Pointed to the dying savior; now they dwell with him above.” With the practiced ease brought on by the group’s sessions, I slip easily into the chorus.

I come into the next verse as I move across to the left side of the stage, eager to address the left half of the audience. “You remember songs of heaven, which you sang with childish voice.” My hooves carry me across to the right side of the stage. “Do you love the hymns they taught you, or are songs of earth your choice?”

As the chorus once more escapes my lips, I make my way back to the center of my stage, my back to the crowd. Then, slowly, I turn to face the crowd, pointing to a pony at random. “You can picture happy gath’rings ‘round the fireside long ago,” I sing to that pony, whose smile trembles as I continue, “and you think of tearful partings, as they left you down below.”

When I enter the chorus this time, my voice cracks and I sound simultaneously tired and sad. “One by one, their seats were emptied. One by one, they went away,” I quaver, feeling tears returning to my eyes. Thoughts of my family—not just my parents—and the doubts I feel about whether or not I’ll see them again because of everything that has happened flood my mind. Instead of crying, however, I pour the emotion into my voice, tempering it with hope. “Now the family is parted... Will it be complete one day?”

By the time I finish the final bout of the chorus, my voice is barely a whisper. I lower my head and sigh in relief as the spotlight on me dims and the regular lighting in the auditorium begins to glow. Once all of the light is balanced in the room, I look out to the audience and smile before taking a bow beside Gearalt. Finally, the crowd can take it no longer and breaks out into applause.

“They really liked it,” I whisper softly to myself, relishing in the accolades of the audience as I return to my spot on stage. “They—”

“A charming performance from a no-account commoner,” a pompous voice calls out from the back of the audience, silencing the crowd. As the crowd parts for the speaker, a slender unicorn mare light red in coat, I let out a sigh just barely audible to the microphone. “For the life of me, though, I don’t know why you bother. It’s clear your talent is neither in alchemy or singing.”

“It’s so nice to see you haven’t changed, Princess Aqua Regia,” I reply bitterly into the microphone.

Making her way to the front of the audience, the noble sneers up at me. “Indeed? I’m so glad to see that you have finally grown up,” she says jeeringly. “I bet that it hasn’t done a thing for that blank flank you’re hiding beneath that awful getup.”

Ignoring her assessment, I grin and cast a playful glance across the crowd. “I’ve grown up, eh?” I comment as though this is news to me. “At least that makes one of us, your Highness.”

The few uncomfortable giggles that escape the crowd are quickly silenced by a stomp and a magically amplified harumph. “I do not know what you are talking about,” she says dismissively with her magically enhanced voice. “I am a princess, and I can assure you that I am quite grown up.”

“Honey, I don’t care how long your horn is or how tall you are; your physical properties and inherited status do not make you mature,” I utter through bared teeth. “You can pull the high-and-mighty act all you wish, but your attempts to intimidate, belittle, and oppress me—and probably other commoners that get in your way, too—over the last few months, both alone and with your lackeys, are nothing more than schoolyard bully tactics. A mature pony does not seek to make the lives of those they dislike miserable until they snap. Rather, they limit their interactions with them and attempt to be cordial whenever necessary.”

Despite the whooping ‘Oh!’ from the audience—I'm almost certain I even heard an ‘Oh snap!’ or two—the smug look does not leave her visage. Instead, she glares at me, her eyes bearing the intensity of a blue giant star. “I have attempted an armistice with you many times. It is hardly my fault if you turned me down,” she says dismissively.

The fur at the base of my neck begins to bristle as I stare at her, my sneer turning into a grimace. Is she really going to take that stance? Really? Luna forgive me, but I may very well have to murder this noble—or at least her reputation. That’s forgivable, right? She’s only a noble, after all! With a snort, I grin wickedly at her once more.

I feel touches on my shoulders, before I speak. Unnoticed in my public confrontation with the bitch on wheels, my beloved Ice Blossom has joined me on the stage along with Gale. Behind them, Chill Beat, Giselle, and Gaius have also joined us onstage. Both Blossom and Gale have a hoof or claw on me in a supportive manner. They nod approvingly, meeting my gaze. Let it all out, Blossom mouths.

“Armistice, now there’s a funny word for you to choose,” I bark, laughing cruelly as my barely-contained hate seeps into my words. “That’s probably the most interesting way I’ve ever heard someone use to describe rape.” As an afterthought, I parrot the words she spoke so long ago in a crass mockery of her accent, “You’ll thank me for this later.”

Any cheering and jeering the crowd had been caught up comes to a quick end at that statement. All eyes in the auditorium are on Aqua Regia following this revelation. To her credit, Aqua’s facial expression doesn’t change much, even if her entire body does go rigid. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” she denies in an incredibly monotone voice. Ever so slightly, her eyes flick to the left, and one can just make out a bit of scrunching on her muzzle. “I am not in the least attracted to a mare such as you.”

Leaning closer to the microphone, I half-lid my eyes and bite my lip seductively. “Of course you’re not attracted to me now,” I whisper into the mic, marveling at just how erotic my voice sounds in an amplified whisper. “I’m all grown up!” I pout. “You just couldn’t help yourself seeing a diminutive, foal-like mare experiencing her first estrus.

“Maybe it was a desire you’ve been harboring for some time, or maybe I was some new and exciting thing to conquer,” I mock, continuing with the erotic whisper that everypony in the auditorium can hear. Even as I say this, I can feel tears begin to roll down my cheeks, but for once they aren’t tears of fear or sadness. The tears are ones of relief. Finally I’ve gotten it all off of my chest. “A foal that isn’t a foal—above the age of consent. In the heat of the moment, it was too good for you to pass up! You had to have me, and ‘No!’ was not an acceptable answer to you and your little magic vibrators!”

Finally, Aqua Regia can no longer contain herself. The entire room shakes with the intensity of her rage as she slams her forehooves into the floor. “Enough of these slanderous lies, peasant!” she bellows in the Royal Canterlot Voice. “If you do not cease this act of sedition, I will gladly remove that treasonous little tongue from your head!”

“Oh, darling, you would love to censor the truth, wouldn’t you? You’d love to show everypony in the room how much you deserve to be a daughter of a noble house,” I trill maliciously, sweeping a hoof across the auditorium, indicating the shocked audience. “Instead of needlessly flaunting your undue station in life, how about you tell them what you do to ponies who say no to you. Tell them what you do to foalish mares who reject your advances—how you violate them with your magic and then demand they reciprocate!”

The enraged noble lights up her horn like an acid green flare, glaring at me. Almost immediately, the audience withdraws further from around the mare, not wanting to get caught up in whatever she is about to do. When a similar green aura begins glimmering around my muzzle, one mare in the audience screams, while many more ponies cover their eyes. “Go ahead, prove me right! I’m not afraid of you, Aqua Regia of House Blueblood—not anymore!” I jeer, angling my head challengingly as a burning sensation encompasses the base of my tongue and it begins to bleed into my mouth. With each syllable, blood bubbles from my mouth and trickles down my chin. “I can always make a potion to grow it back!”

I suppose nopony will ever find out if Aqua was really going to tear or burn my tongue out of my mouth. In the split second it takes for me to blink, a loud boom shakes the entire room and the burning sensation in my mouth ceases. As soon as my eyes open, I see Aqua is no longer standing in the center of the auditorium. Instead, Chill Beat is standing in front of me on the stage, her horn lit, glaring at the pompous unicorn slumped against the auditorium doors, rivulets of blood rolling from her ears.

“This has gone on long enough,” Beat says, hijacking the microphone with her magical grip. “You come in here disturbing an extra credit project my friends and I have worked so hard to arrange, insulting the pony my baby sister loves, and you then assault that pony in front of dozens of witnesses including at least two professors? Get out of here before someone calls the guards!”

I’m half-tempted to explain to Beat that the pony she just blasted with the same bass spell she hit me with when we first met probably can’t hear her, but when I meet Aqua Regia’s gaze, I stop myself. Spitting a mouthful of blood onto the stage in a very obvious manner, I instead hike up my dress and turn my side to face her, revealing the alchemy flask over a crescent moon emblazoned on my flank. With that silent go-fuck-yourself out of the way with, I stick my tongue out at her before joining Gearalt at the back of the stage.

Aqua Regia screams impotently, uneasily struggling back to her hooves. “You will regret this, Silver Script, mark my words!”

Ignoring the embarrassed noble’s words, I sigh, apologetically looking to Gearalt. “Listen, I’m sorry about the concert getting ruined by that royal twat,” I murmur around my partially dissolved tongue. “If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, just let me know, okay?”

Gearalt only grins—fucking beaks, man—as he runs one claw through the feathers on his head. “Nonsense lass! The concert went swimmingly,” he says coolly. “The aftershow? Now that’s somethin’ I cannae have planned if ye asked me to.” He winks before ruffling my mane. “Sure, that was a vicious disturbance of our allotted time, but just look at how it turned out!”

“Huh?”

“She is getting expelled, Silver!” Blossom explains, bouncing happily over. “She not only disturbed a school-approved event, but she assaulted you in front of professors and an audience of witnesses! They have no choice! You never have to worry about her again.” She wraps me in a hug, wary of my dress and the blood. “Let’s go get you cleaned up though. You don’t want blood to ruin your dress if you’re wearing it to the coronation tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” I nod, gulping down a mouthful of blood. “Let’s get back to my room. You can help me out of this thing.” Casting another wary glance at the door, I sigh. “I think after the ceremony tomorrow, I’m going to come clean to the princesses.”

She dabs at my face with a kerchief to mop up some of the blood. “Please, my love, just take it one step at a time.” The pleading look on her face is far too cute to ignore. “While it is good that you are getting your vengeance, it needn’t be in one fell swoop.” That pleading look quickly dissipates into a reassuring smile when she adds, “I get the impression that the guards will want to question you anyway.”

“That does seem like protocol,” I reply. “Openly assaulting me like that, they’d probably need to know whether I’d like to press charges.” With a shake of my head, I look back to her. “Let’s get out of here.”

Blossom watches from my bed in morbid curiosity as I draw a vial from the rack on my desk. Her eyes are on the vibrant red contents of the glass tube the entire time as I slowly tilt my head back to allow it to flow into my mouth. “Did you mean it when you said your potions could allow you to regrow your tongue?” she finally asks. “Are they really that good?”

I don’t immediately answer her, instead choosing to swirl the potion about in my mouth for a few moments. There’s not much to do but hold my hoof up to indicate that I need a moment. The burned, exposed meat of my tongue slowly begins to knit itself together, reforming and scarring over the wound. Sure, healing potions are meant to be swallowed, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t also great applied topically.

Swallowing down the remainder of the potion, I shake my head. “Not this potion in particular,” I explain, making a point of sticking out my tongue to show her the indented ring of flesh still present in my tongue. “I don’t have the skill or qualifications to be making a high grade regenerative yet, so I’m stuck with lower grade healing potions, which are good for closing wounds and stopping internal bleeding, but not particularly great for restoring damaged flesh. It’d be almost as expensive to make such a regenerative as it would be to make enough healing potions just to regrow an entire tongue.”

She pales, and a look crosses her face implying that she wished she hadn’t asked. “I see.” An awkward expression crosses her face, and she looks toward the door. “Well, now that you are not in danger of losing your tongue or ruining your dress, I guess I should bid you good night. I will see you tomorrow, of course.”

As she rises out of the bed, I sidle over to block her path. “You, ehm, you don’t have to go back to your room, Blossom,” I softly interject. “Gale isn’t going to be here tonight, so nopony says you can’t sleep here tonight.”

My beloved, bless her heart, glances warily at Gale’s bed. “She—will she not mind if her bed is slept in?” she asks naively.

I look her in the eye with a shake of my head. “Oh, my love, you silly mare,” I purr, pecking her on the cheek gently. “I keep forgetting how unfamiliar you still are with double meanings in this language. Some of them you seem to pick up on, but others…”

“What I’m trying to say is that I want to do something special for you, love,” I continue. “You’ve been nothing but good to me all of this time, and tonight may very well be one of the happiest nights in my life. I want to show you how happy you make me—to show you that even though we’re both mares, that a relationship can still work that way.”

“But—”

“I know you’re still uncomfortable with the idea, which is exactly why I want to make this for you,” I cut her off. “I can introduce you to some of the things a mare-mare relationship can still provide without asking you to lift a hoof. I won’t ask you to return any favors, and if you decide you don’t like any of it, you only need to ask and I’ll stop.”

Blossom backs onto my bed and looks at me pensively. “I am not sure, Silver.”

At this, I cannot help but give her a pleading look. “Don’t think of this as doing something for me,” I beg. “Think of this as doing something for yourself, to eliminate the doubt. You can find out tonight whether you are sexually compatible with mares, or if our love needn’t be of a carnal sort. At the same time, I don’t want to pressure you into this.” I look her lovingly in the eyes. “I will only do this if you’re certain.”

“I—will you be gentle?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay,” she answers hesitantly, making more room on the bed. “Um, please teach me how... this works.”

I join her on the bed, smiling softly as I nuzzle her face. A part of me yearns to go into a monologue explaining the benefits of loving a mare, pointing out our silky coats, softer bodies, and how much nicer they can feel compared to the rugged forms of stallions, but that part of my mind that’s still an author knows that the time for exposition has passed. Rather than tell her, the author in my heart says, I should simply show her.

Gently, I roll her onto her back with my hoof, giggling at her anxious squirms. It’s unsurprising, but when she realizes how exposed she is, she curls her tail up over her belly and draws her haunches together. In spite of the layer of white fur on her face, her cheeks are positively scarlet. She’s so embarrassed, so unsure of herself, that it’s hard not to take pause. “Well?” she squeaks.

I imagine that is this is probably her first-ever sexual experience, barring clopping, and she probably doesn’t really know what to expect to begin with; she certainly doesn’t seem to be the type to read erotica, so she probably is expecting me to dive right in and ravage her. Hell, if not for my experiences as a mare—if I still had the mentality of a virginal human male—I might even live up to that expectation.

Instead of starting with the main event, however, I take position above her. My lips join hers in a passionate kiss as I lean down to meet her. The surprised squeak she lets out as my tongue parts her lips is only half as sweet as the smothered moan it becomes as my tongue begins probing her mouth. If I thought that I was being bold tonight, it’s Blossom’s turn to stun me with her boldness as she flawlessly wrestles my tongue into submission.

Even as I pull back from her, a streamer of spittle keeping our lips connected, she looks up at me with a half-lidded smile. “I won,” she comments breathlessly. “What do I win?”

I can’t help but laugh. Isn’t that just a ridiculously silly question? “You get a happy ending from the masseuse of your choosing,” I coo, tracing one hoof down her cheek. “I hope you’ll choose me!”

The only vocalization she makes in response is a goofy little mewl, which seems as good a go-signal as any. Slowly I run the tip of my hoof down the side of her neck, tracing her jugular down to her withers. From there, I follow the contour of her leg down her barrel. She giggles slightly as I brush past a ticklish spot on her belly, though she has yet to complain.

I look away from her face for only a moment as I brush away her tail, revealing her pert little mammaries. Now, unlike most ponies of her pristine white coloration, whose skin is an unpigmented pink, the skin beneath Blossom’s fur is a dark gray often mistaken for black. That smooth dark flesh is almost too erotic of an accent for her other very exotic features. As I halt my hoof’s descent between them, the teats capping her supple gray flesh stiffen enticingly, as if to beg my attention.

Yeah, needless to say, I would love to just motorboat these little puppies and suckle them like a hungry newfoal. Thankfully, I have a lot more willpower than that. Instead, I look back to Blossom’s blushing face, and grin. “Now, some ponies like to jump straight into the fray,” I purr, tracing a figure eight around her sensitive little milk factories. When she finally releases a moan, I shake my head. “Foreplay makes it all the more sensual though, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Mnnnaaah!” is all she manages. It’s clear that a little teasing is going a long way, and I haven’t even gotten into it. Maybe she’s just a really sensitive girl? “You’re being mean.”

“What do we say?”

“M-more, please!” she squeals as I tease her left teat directly. “I... I—” The squelch of moist, membranous tissues parting interrupts her the same instant she flicks her tail off of her vulva. I’m about to look down to observe her hidden treasure—her cavern of pleasure—when she grabs me suddenly, pulling my face close to hers. My wings shoot up rigidly at the surprise of being grabbed. “Please don’t look!”

Without another choice, I nuzzle her face lovingly as I bring my hoof ever lower; I mean, it’s all I can do not to playfully ask how I can please her if I can’t see what I’m doing right or wrong. Still, just because I’m not going to embarrass her, it doesn’t mean I can’t tease her. I draw back the moment my hoof crosses her southern border, leaving my hoof hovering just far enough away from her vulva that the fur on my fetlock is close enough to tickle her.

Blossom lets out a frustrated little growl at the cessation of my ministrations, and opens her mouth just enough to voice a complaint when I lower my hoof ever so slightly. It’s not enough to elicit a vocalization of some sort, but there’s enough stimulation there to reaffirm her arousal. At the same second her vulva makes way to expose her clit, she bucks her hips against my hoof. For the very briefest of moments, I can feel her wet warmth against me, and my own vulva winks in response and my wings twitch in anticipation.

I pull my hoof back to examine the sticky residue on my fur. “You got me all sticky,” I moan in mock complaint, showing her the marecum on my hoof. “Whatever will I do?”

She gives me this horrified look as I bring my sticky hoof up to my mouth. “No, don—” I extend my tongue to lap up some of her dew. “Ew! Silver! I pee from there too you know!”

Leaning back, I raise my eyebrow. “You do know that urine is sterile, right?” Again I lick up some of her fluids. It’s honestly not too bad. It’s kinda sour like a grape, but has this wholesome, heady mellowness about it. “Besides, you’re too hygienic to be dirty.” Finishing off my treat like a cat cleaning her paw, I ask, “Now, which would you prefer? A bit of oral, or would you like me to hoof you some more?”

She looks away and blushes even more. With an almost Fluttershy-esque squeak, she clenches her eyes shut. If not for me being so close, I don’t think I would ever hear her utter the word oral. I guess I’ve done a good job of getting her fired up, so I suppose it’s only right that I reward her for being so bold. She’s my special somepony after all.

Backwards along the bed I slide until my wings press uncomfortably against the curvature of the alcove and my forehooves are at either side of her hips. “This is your last chance to back out,” I whisper, lowering myself to her belly between her haunches. “I won’t blame you.”

“Silver,” she moans, thrusting her hips eagerly toward my face. “If you quit now and leave me like this, I will never forgive you!”

Um... Wait. What? I stare at her cunt in confusion for a moment. If Blossom was the submissive one a minute ago, why is she suddenly the dom? Oh jeeze. Just how turned on is she? Am I... am I ready for this? What the fuck is going on here? Why am I suddenly so scared?

Oh, right. This is a pretty big step in the relationship, and I just made all the big moves here. I’m suddenly feeling anxious because my last two sexual experiences with others aren’t fond memories. The first time, I was drunk in another pony’s body, and ended up fellating a stallion before performing cunnilingus on my own body as that stallion fucked me, and the second time, my ‘partner’ was raping me with magic. That’s not even counting what went on with Locus. Is it any wonder that I’m suddenly feeling like this?

I shake my head vigorously, blinking away a tear. I will not let those past experiences ruin this for me! Blossom is the pony I love; if I can’t trust her after all, then I have very poor choice in whom I place my amour, and if that is the case, I’m better off going celibate. Sex is supposed to be one of the most implicit forms of trust, right? Well, Blossom’s placed her trust in me, and I trust her even more than I trust the princesses at this point. I will not flake out on her now!

With that, I lean down and gently place my muzzle against her fluid-soaked crevasse. The heavy scent of her arousal alone is enough to drive me wild, but to feel her moist heat against my face draws out a wetness of my own. Before I can stop myself, a moan escapes my throat, resonating through my lips, and against her quivering labia.

Blossom’s reaction to the stimulus is almost instantaneous; her legs clench tight against the sides of my head, rubbing me harder against her hungry marehood. “Nnnn more!” she cries, placing a forehoof against the top of my head to encourage me to continue. “Please don’t stop!” Honestly? The hoof is a bit unnecessary. Feeling her clit push out against my nose is invitation enough for me to continue. I let out a small giggle, something that serves only to tease her more, as I thrust my tongue out to trace the curves and contours of her vulva.

If she was enjoying the resonance of my moan against her groin, the licks must be driving her insane. Hell, when I’m lucky enough to graze her clit mid-wink, she lets out a small shriek and convulses around me. There’s no doubt in my mind at this point that my little Blossom’s delicate flower is insanely sensitive. No wonder she’s so prudish. If she’s so sensitive that it’s too much for her to even clop herself, she probably shies away from anything likely to turn her on. She’s practically a monk with that sort of self-discipline!

Smiling at the small micro-orgasm I’ve granted her, I decide to step it up a notch. With a low hum, I coax her into winking once more, but before her clitoris has a chance to withdraw back to its hiding place like a startled snail, I latch on with my lips, sucking the area into my mouth and holding it in place. A giggle escapes my throat as I prepare to blow her mind, and I feel her spasm against me.

I begin tracing out the complex swirls, boxes and crosses of the Equestrian script, from aleph to zen, alternating between her labial folds and her clit. Each brush, stroke, and graze of my tongue brings forth new squeals from my love, and soon enough, I have to grab hold of her hips just in order to keep my hold. Before I even get halfway through the lowercase form of the alphabet, her legs go vise-tight around my head, burying my muzzle against her pubic bone as a flood of marecum spatters my face.

She just sits there, trembling in the throes of her climax, my face buried in her snatch. Wow, she sure has a really good grip for somepony having an orgasm. I mean, I’m not complaining, taste and whatnot, but not being able to breathe kinda sucks. Then again, there are worse ways to die than suffocating in a face-full of muff, right?

When Blossom’s finally through choking me with her cum and smothering me with her vag, I’m exhausted. Oxygen deprivation is a wonderful thing. I’m sure If I could muster the strength to reach back with my hoof, I’d probably have a pretty awesome orgasm, but fuck it; she’s loosening her grip now, so I’ll focus on breathing now. Yeah, that works much better.

“Silver, my love,” Blossom croons, freeing her hips from my limp grasp. Through heavy eyelids, I watch as she pulls away, rising onto shaky hooves and turning to meet me face to face. “That was incredible. How did you ever learn to do that?”

“Lossa readin’,” I mutter, panting heavily. “Blowin’ up cars or blowin’ minds, a book can tell you how.”

In spite of the slick mess of her juices on my face, she leans in for a kiss, forcibly probing my mouth with her tongue. I have no energy left to fight her advances, so I content myself in letting her taste herself in my mouth. Something about it is so fucking hot. Watching her pull away, a string of cum stretching between our faces, is almost too much for me to handle.

A familiar pressure begins building up below my belly, and I can’t help but shudder. I’m being brought this close by a kiss? Normally, I’m not this riled up unless I’ve just gone through some sort of humiliating experience! But holy fuck! I look up into her eyes, and it’s almost like she’s radiating pure sex right back at me. “Can it be taught?” she asks in a voice as smooth as silk.

I’m not sure whether it’s the way she said it, or if a sudden draft of air swept through the room, ruffling my tail against my own aroused pussy at an inopportune time. In the end, I suppose it doesn’t matter. A surge of electric warmth encompasses my entire being, blinding me to the world. My entire body turns to quivering jelly as I coat the bed sheets beneath me in marecum.

“Did you just...?”

“In the morning,” I mumble, failing miserably at an attempt to move out of the wet spot. Unable to help myself, I yawn and lid my eyes. “The blankets are all wet. Please keep me warm.”

“I love you too.”

Author's Notes:

Firstly to dispel any issues with lyrics, I've checked with the mods, and while songs whose copyrights are still in effect are a no-no, songs that have lapsed into public domain are okay so long as you can prove that it is public domain. 'Will the Circle Be Unbroken,' while featured in Bioshock Infinite, is one such song.
See http://library.timelesstruths.org/music/Will_the_Circle_Be_Unbroken/
and http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Will_the_Circle_Be_Unbroken%3F

Next, I'd like to thank everybody who helped get this edited and presentable. Tonight, we have our usual faces, E3gner and Nightmare Knight as usual, and then special thanks to Kaidan and ReFro.