Please tell me why my car is in the front yard

And I'm sleeping with my clothes on

-Lit, My Own Worst Enemy

Nitro had been sent away on some sort of "secret" mission.  Texan and Key, however, were two of the army guys (now promoted to sergeants) settin' up stuff.  At the moment, both were installing incandescent string lights to the rafters in one of the temporary shelters.  The lighting choice seemed informal, but Melski had passed down the order as an act of kindness.  Being too close to fire could render multiple alien hairdos (especially the creepy-ass wavy one) ablaze, and floodlights might be too bright for 'em to sleep by.  Well sure, we could turn 'em off, but how would they find the port-o-shits at night?  A soldier with a really bright flashlight might wake 'em all up.  Let's just make the lights nice and comforting so that the others can sleep while one of 'em's takin' a choco-shit.  Got it?

Other men were placing mattresses on double-stacked bunk beds (and king-sizes on the ground for the leaders) along the building's inner sides, and the port-o-shits made up a surreal line* on the left side, beginning at the front end.  The executives at Don's Johns must have been proud.  Beige canvas had been fastened to the walls and ceiling prior to the building's furnishing in order to alleviate the harsh reflections of the lights on the steel walls.  Had the room been painted black, the dim lights would have given the place a Birchmere-esque atmosphere.

Celestia was using her magic to test the lock on the first port-o-shit.  She watched the small sign above the knob turn from "vacant" to "occupied" with curiosity from the other side of the building's front.  The front wall had not yet been fastened on, so she could still poke her head in without obstructing anyone's path.

"Have you ever used one of those before?" asked Key.  He was standing on a ladder, hanging the last piece of the string of lights near the front of the building.  He asked nervously, since this leader could easily not like him and shove her horn up his ass, but he had been considering making conversation in order to win her over.  This way, he would be considered a "friend" and be one of the last to die if the aliens became power-hungry.

"No, but I can imagine what they're used for, based on the context of your conversations," Celestia replied, her eyes fixed on that curved sign which currently read, "occupied."

"Try the door," Key said with a slight tint of humor in his low, monotone voice.

Celestia twisted the knob to "vacant," figuring that the door would be unlocked with nobody inside.  She caused the door to glow and gently opened it.

"Hm.  I was right."

"I'm guessing you had toilets like ours back on your home planet?"

"Yes, but they weren't in boxes like this."

"Neither are ours-not usually, at least.  These are portable ones, though.  They don't flush."

"So somebody just empties them out manually?"

"That's about right," Key said as he began to climb down the ladder.

"But isn't that unsanitary?  To have it lie around like that?"

"One would think so," he said as he reached the ground, "but the container it's in is strong-blocked from the outside world."  He stared up at the alien which was much more terrifying from ground-level.

Come on, Kevin.  Don't puss out.

"They're a bit small.  I hope the normal-sized ponies can fit in them."

"Oh, sure they can.  If I can fit in one, they can.  I'm sorry we couldn't get a bigger one for you.  The orders never specified larger ones to be installed."

"Probably because they knew I could do this," Celestia said.  She caused the previously-interesting box to expand to the ceiling and a few feet to the right, while two adjacent ones thinned to inch-widths with glow-power.  One of the legs of Texan's ladder had been pushing against one of these, and was shoved harshly to the side by the motion.  Celestia caused Texan to levitate before he could hit the ground, then turned him upright.  He breathed heavily with disbelief.

"Sorry about that.  I'll finish those lights for you, if you don't mind."  The dangling wire of the string of lights parallel to Key's was lifted up with a glow and gently wrapped around the final rafter.  The final anchoring screws were levitated and twisted into place.  All of the army guys were staring with amazement.

"Th.. thanks.  Could...n't you have just helped with the lights before?"

"Well, I wasn't sure how you wanted them to be set up, and none of you ever asked.  After watching the rest of the lights be set up, though, I figured this is how you wanted them to be finished."

"Well, you were... r... right."

The three port-o-shits glowed and returned to their normal sizes.

"Or I could do this, if it's more convenient," Celestia said.  She began to shrink until she was only five feet tall, with her needle-sharp horn reaching to six.

"Yeah, definitely more convenient," said Texan as he walked over to help the other army guys with the beds.

---

Rarity, Dashie, AppleJack, and Fluttershy** were sitting upright against the tree.  They resembled bored kids on a scalding summer day.  None of them knew where Spike was; they hadn't seen him in quite a while.  They figured he was hanging out with some of his other pony-friends.  Rarity had decided (amidst a barrage of "why didn't you do that earlier; my ears are killing me"'s from Dashie) to construct an invisible, soundproof dome around the tree so that they could converse more easily.

"There she goes," began Dashie humorously, regarding Celestia's interaction with the army guys, "scarin' the livin' shit outta the humans.  It's fun to watch her do that."

"I feel sorry for them, though," said Fluttershy.  "I hate to see them afraid."

"Ah, what does it matter, Flutters?  They'll get over it.  We all get over fears."

"I suppose," she said quietly.

"So AppleJack, what is the Luna treatment?" asked Rarity.

"Ah don't really wanna talk 'bout it.  It ain't important to ya," replied AppleJack.

"Are you sure?  You seemed a bit nervous after Celestia told you it was true."

"Yeah, we're your friends, AJ.  We can help ya alleviate the guil-I mean 'fear,'" added Dashie.

"But it don't matter none 'bout ya, see?  An' ah ain't scared fer mahself, nayther."

"Who're ya scared for, AJ?"

"That Marlon guy.  Can't imagine what's goin' threw his hayed."

"Wanna try?  Could help."

"OK, fahn, Ah'll tell ya, Dash, Ah'll tell ya.  Didn't wanna get y'all scared'er nuthin'.  'T's why ah wusn't talkin."

"Do proceed, darling; you've got me curious," said Rarity.

"W... well...," AppleJack began.  A slight red blush poked through her orange-shaded cheeks.  "Y'all remember th' tahm wen Big Mac wus walkin' 'round town lookin' lahk a milyun bits?"

"Yeah, I think I do.  Wasn't he datin' Cheerilee?" asked Dashie.

"Naw, naw, that uther tahm.  Few munths b'fore we left."

"Can you elaborate, darling?  I'm not sure I recall it," said Rarity.

"I remember," said Fluttershy quietly.  This caused Dashie and Rarity to stare at her.  AppleJack had a "thank 'Tia ah don't hafta'xplain this bah mahself" expression on her face.

"Something about his eyes was different from the time he dated Cheerilee.  He wasn't skipping, either."

"Oh yeah, I remember that.  That skipping was hilarious," reminisced Dashie.

"I never spoke to him much.  I don't remember the difference between his usual and unusual habits," said Rarity.

"Well, I've seen it hundreds of times before.  It's completely different than any expression he would normally wear," Fluttershy elaborated.

"...And?" asked Dashie.

From the outside, Celestia, now back to her normal size, stared at the ponies under the tree.  She did not need to hear the conversation; she could read Fluttershy's lips:  The animals at home got that expression after they... reached orgasm.  Luna had sex with him, they said.  Celestia's pupils, unbeknownst to her, contracted to pinpoint sizes.

They know already?

The dome-encased ponies' pupils did the same.

"On... the... first... NIGHT?" Dashie nervously said.

"Shur seems that way," AppleJack replied gravely.  "It musta made a terr'ble ferst 'mpreshun."

"Why would she do that?  And even if you could give me a reason, WHY ON THE FIRST NIGHT?!"

"Ah ain't shur.  But y'all've herd them storys, raht?  Looks lahk thay're trew."

"Dear, it seems a bit far-fetched," Rarity said, denying the whole thing.

"Don't act like you haven't heard the stories, Rarity.  I knew a couple pegasi who were talkin' about it when I was younger, but I never thought she'd really have that obsession."

"What should we do?" asked Fluttershy.

"Dunno.  Ah ain't sure how thees folks handle this stuff.  'F they like sex, we're fahn.  'F they don't, all us'r bucked... hard."

"How should we find out what he thinks about it?" asked Rarity.

"Dunno.  'F we confrunt'im 'bout it, he's gunna feal real awkwerd-like."

"But if she already did him, what's he gonna care if we know?  We're not humans; we're not gonna toss him outta society," Dashie replied.

"Should we ask Celestia?" asked Fluttershy quietly.  She felt slightly guilty about bearing the news.

"We can't ask her!  This is her sister we're talkin' about!  No idea what she'd do if she found out her sister was a nymphomaniac!"

Celestia walked over to the tree.  She had been reading the ponies' lips for most of the conversation, and was surprised that Dashie and Rarity had no idea.  The dome made a slight "zzz" noise as Celestia stepped through.

"Oh, hi, Celestia!" began Dashie.  "We were just talkin' bout that Marlon guy.  Swell fella, eh?"

Celestia sighed.

"Something wrong?" asked Rarity.

"Technically no, but I just have to say one thing, since I've been reading your lips."

The four ponies gazed up at the now-intimidating, anthropomorphic horse-thing.

"AppleJack's right.  Marlon did, indeed, get the Luna treatment."

The pupils contracted once more.

"Why on the first night?" Dashie asked.  She was quite fixated on the whole "first night" aspect of the situation.

"Well, I can't say for sure, since he was in a dream when it happened, but I think it has something to do with the fact that Marlon told her about his... psychological problem."

"How'd she squeeze it out of him?  The info... I mean," asked Dashie.

"Once again, I can't say for sure.  But if any of you have seen her in your dreams, you'll know how good she is at that."

The ponies looked at each other; they knew Luna's methods.  She would take an inverted approach to make you want to tell her your problems.

"Do you think they're gonna kill us?" asked Dashie nervously.  This was a rare event for the rest of the group:  seeing their most headstrong friend in a mild state of panic.

"I doubt it.  And besides, even if they wanted to, they'd go for Luna first.  I talked to Marlon about it this morning, and he seems OK with it."

"How can you be sure he wasn't lying to be nice?"

"There was something about his eyes that conveyed sincerity; it's something I've picked up on over all my time as a princess.  These creatures really aren't that different from us... personality-wise."

Fluttershy silently congratulated herself for making a statement about animals that other ponies could relate to.

"You'll be fine, Rainbow Dash; I can assure you.  Mister Marlon's a nice human; he wouldn't want to hurt you."

"I sure hope you're right," Dashie said, as she adopted a cat-like resting position with her chin resting on her right foreleg.  She still looked nervous.

"So now what?  If you... don't mind me asking," asked Fluttershy.

"Well, hopefully, the hormones in his brain from the dream-sex should lighten his mood.  In a way, Luna's attraction to him is a good thing."

"Oh, I do hope you're right about this," said Rarity.

"She's happy; he's happy; it's a win-win situation," Celestia said as she adopted the same position as Dashie.  "I hope."

---

Spike was playing blackjack with the C.M.C. under another tree on the lawn, facing away from the crowd (which, after approximately three hours, had not stopped taking pictures).  Sweetie had put up a soundproof dome long before Rarity had gotten the idea.

"Bust," said Scootaloo bitterly.  "Twenty-two."

"A-teen," said AppleBloom.

"Eleven," said Sweetie.

Spike placed his two cards face-down on the ground, the turned them over one at a time for a dramatic effect:  a midnight sun (Celestia's cutie mark painted black-equivalent to an ace of spades***) and a ten.

"Didn't even need a hit," Spike mused.

Scootaloo faceplanted lightly, then sighed hard.  "What is that, the fifth time?" she said, though her voice was muffled by grass and dirt.

"Eighth," he replied smugly.

"Can y'all deal up a new game?  This'un's gettin' tough," said AppleBloom.

"Why would I do that?  I'm on a streak here!"

"Yeah, but ya get the same cards every time!  How do we know y'all ain't cheatin'?"

"Oh come on, AppleBloom; have a little more faith in me," Spike said calmly with an obvious hint of sarcasm.  "I wouldn't cheat; I just get lucky from time to time."

"But this one's a little boring.  Can we play that one my sister taught me?" asked Sweetie.

"Ooh!  Yeah!  That's a good one!  Let's play that!" added Scootaloo.

"But you need chips for that one, and we don't have any.  For mine, chips aren't totally required."

"Ya mean like these?" Scootaloo asked as she held up a stack of white, red, green, and black poker chips, identical to the ones used on Earth.

"Where did you get those?" asked Spike.

"Get what?"

"The chips."

"What chips?"

"The ones that you're holding."

"Sweetie gave 'em to me."

"When?"

"Yesterday."

"Where did she get them?"

"Her sister made them."

"Rarity doesn't make plastic stuff."

"She wanted to try something new."

"Sweetie!  Did Rarity really make those?"

"Mm-Hmm!" Sweetie replied as she nodded her head, eyes closed with the lids raised in arcs.

"OK, fine, but where were you keeping them?"

"When?" asked Scootaloo.  Unbeknownst to the four of them, but "knownst" to Marlon when he heard about the exchange later, the conversation greatly resembled the one between John Candy and Macaulay Culkin in Uncle Buck.

"Before you brought them out."

"When was that?  I bring them out a lot."

"Just a few seconds ago."

"They were in AppleBloom's hair."

"Why would you put them in there?"

"Because my ass can't hold anything else."

The expression on Spike's face was simultaneously terrified and bewildered; he looked as if he had just jizzed in his metaphorical pants.  Scootaloo dropped the chips as she rolled back and laughed hysterically.

"Y-you shoulda seen your face!" she said between heavy guffaws.

"Please tell me you weren't serious about that ass thing."

"Oh, n-no way.  I just wanted to s-see your face!" she said.  Her laughter had died down slightly, but picked up again when she reached "face."

Spike maintained a flat expression until Scootaloo finally stopped.

"Ya done?"

"Yeah, I th-think so."  One last chuckle.

Sweetie used her magic power to deal out chips and cards.

"Hey, what're ya doing?" Spike protested.

"You weren't doing anything at the moment, so I thought I would set up my game."

"How are you even doing that while you've got that force-field up?"

"I've been doing a little studying on multiple-spell spells; I think I've got it down pretty good.  I got the idea from Twilight."

Spike remembered his purple companion and turned to the right, to see the tree Celestia was under.  His eyesight had been a little dull lately, since he had taken AppleBloom's dare last week to rub lime halves in his eyes,

Evil bitch!

but he could make out that something was wrong by the way Celestia was sitting.  She almost never took Dashie's pose.

"I think something's up," said Spike, while staring at Celestia.

"Don't try excuses now, Spike.  You'll love this game, just try it!" said Sweetie enthusiastically.

"Seriously.  Something's wrong with Celestia."

"Really?" asked Scootaloo before turning her head to the princess.  "She looks OK to me."

"But the way her head's positioned; it doesn't seem normal.  I think she's worried about something."

"She's probably worried about our new lives here.  Toss in your blind bet, wouldja?" asked Scootaloo impatiently.

"I'm gonna go over and see if everything's OK," Spike said.  The force-field made a small "zzz" sound as he walked out.  The flashes of light grew more frequent around the purple dragon as he walked to the other tree.  He stopped to wave to the crowd, then continued on his merry way.

"Wimp," said Scootaloo as she placed two white chips next to the main deck.

"Everything OK, Celestia?" Spike asked as he walked into the next force-field with a "zzz" and sat down.

"Yes, everything's fine.  How are you, Spike?  I haven't seen you in a while."

"Oh, it's been OK.  I've been playin' cards with the C.M.C. for a while.  So you're just trying that resting position now?  I've never seen you do that."

"It's actually more comfortable than it looks.  I think I'll use it more often."

"It's contagious," added Dashie.

Something's wrong.  Your eyes and position are making it obvious, Spike thought.  He sat down against the tree to look inconspicuous while he attempted to think with Celestia.

SPIKE, HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A 'LUNA TREATMENT?'  Her thought-voice was slightly exhausted.

No.  Can you describe it?

Celestia's thought-voice sighed, then began:  HOW DID IT WIND UP THAT I'M TELLING EVERYPONY THIS?

You don't have to tell me if you don't want to; I just want to see if I can help you feel better.  Twilight's not around, so I may as well help you with your feelings.

WELL, IT DOESN'T IMMEDIATELY CONCERN ME.

If that's the case, I'll guess it's about Marlon, 'cause he's the only one here you've really been talkin' to.  But why would you be scared about something called a Luna tr... OOOOooohhhhhhhhh, so THAT's what a Luna treatment is.

YOU KNOW WHAT IT IS?

Well, I've never heard it called by that name, but I'm guessing it's something like a Blue Cream Dream.

Celestia's face bulged ever so slightly, indicating the forcing down of a laugh.

"Anypony find it weird that none of us noticed Spike over there?" Dashie asked her friends.

"Oh, not at all, dearie.  See, I've taken up the habit of using my lateral neck muscles as little as possible when not necessary; it'll reduce wrinkling when I'm older," said Rarity in her usual pompous-yet-grounded tone.

"What crackpot told ya that?"

"Ahem....  I hardly consider my mother a 'crackpot.'  She used her neck muscles all the time recreationally, and look how wrinkly she turned out to be!"

"I don't remember your mom bein' that wrinkly at all, Rarity.

As the blue and white anthropomorphic horse things argued about how hideously wrinkled Rarity's mother was, Spike thought, So Luna went inside his dream and-

AFRAID SO.

Now what?

I CAN'T SAY I'M SURE.  THIS HAS NEVER HAD THE POTENTIAL TO BECOME A REAL PROBLEM BEFORE.

Who says it will become a problem?  What if he totally digs it?

HE SAID HE DIDN'T MIND, BUT... I'M SCARED FOR HIM, I SUPPOSE.

What's there to be scared about?

NOTHING, AT THE MOMENT, BUT WHO KNOWS WHAT MY SISTER WILL DO TO HIM NEXT?  HE'LL BE AT THE MERCY OF HER DREAM-MAGIC.

Can't she just rewire his dream-brain to like everything?

SHE HAS A HARD TIME DIRECTLY CONTROLLING EMOTIONS.  TOTAL HYPNOSIS IS A STRONGER MAGIC THAN YOU WOULD THINK.  SHE HASN'T HAD AS MUCH PRACTICE WITH IT AS I HAVE.

But what do you care if he eventually stops liking it?

I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T, BUT I'M NOT SURE IF MY SISTER WILL LISTEN TO ANYPONY WHEN SHE'S ORDERED TO CALM IT DOWN.  MARLON COULD EVENTUALLY DREAD SLEEPING ALTOGETHER.

Well, if ya ask me, I don't think there's anything to worry about.  He'll be totally fine.

BUT IF HE DOES EVENTUALLY STOP LIKING IT, WON'T THAT IMPACT HIS VIEW OF OUR RACE?

Forgive me for saying this, but you're starting to sound like Twilight.  How could he hate a whole race based on one pony?

Celestia stopped thinking outwardly.  Spike turned to see AppleJack and Fluttershy keeping quiet.  Neither of them felt qualified to talk about this, or Rarity's mom.

See ya later, Celestia.

BYE, SPIKE, Celestia thought.  Spike could still hear nervousness in her tone of voice.  He would have normally considered it his imagination, but with Celestia's voice being emitted behind his ears, there was little possibility of interference from outside .

Spike walked over to the orange and yellow ponies and leaned back against the tree beside them.  The three had a front-row seat to the performance of the army guys putting the finishing touches on the shelters.

"How's it hangin', Flutters?" the purple dragon asked.

"It's OK, but everypony's so tense about Marlon.  Still, it's nice to know that they care about him."

"What do you think about it?"

"I'm not sure.  I've never been in this situation before.  When I see the animals doing it, they never get this wound up."

"Ew.  You regularly watch that?"

"No, but occasionally I'll stumble upon two of them when I come home earlier than scheduled.  It's no biggie, really.  I know it's natural."

"Well, I don't like to watch anything doin' it but me."

AppleJack quietly chuckled.

"I heard that!" Spike blurted out.

"Aw, it ain't nuthin', sugarcube.  I's just remembrin' a funny joke's all."

Spike knew what she was laughing at; he wasn't stupid.  She was laughing about the pillow.  She had seen it once, and had never let him live it down.  The pillow with a crude drawing of Rarity's face taped to the front and a hole cut in the lower back.  Spike regretted ever making the damn thing.  AppleJack had been pulling jokes for months now in normal conversation:  Hey Spahke, what's goin' down?  You're a real head case, ya know?  No need ta tape up yer vict'ries.  Shut up'r I'll have y'all drawn and quart'rd.

What a BITCH!

"L... let's change the subject," Spike began.

Try pullin' a joke NOW!

"How's Twi?  Haven't seen her in a while."

"She's down at some science-y lab'r sum'n.  Been there fer hours.  Think she's a might likin' it there."

"What makes you say that?"

"She sent a note sayin' she didn't wanna come back wi'Marlon; wanted to stay there awhile with Pinkie."

"Makes sense that Twilight'd be stayin' there, but why Pinkie?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but it's-a lookin' like Pinkie's all hyped up about feelin' important'n such.  She's mounted-

Oh, ffffffffffFUCK you!

-the science-y bandwagon wi'Twahlahght."

"Hm.  Wonder what they're up to?  Did you get any indication of what they'd been doin'?"

"Ah ain't quite sure; her note didn't say much.  Said somethin' about that 'chocolate' stuff."

"What's chocolate?"

"Y'all didn't hear Marlon talk 'bout it on th'air?"

"I was half-asleep through most of it."

"Er thinkin' bout the pillow,"  AppleJack said under her breath.

"I HEARD THAT!" Spike exclaimed quietly, but with force.

Dammit!  She knows!

OH, RELAX, SPIKE.  THERE'S NOTHING WRONG WITH IT.

Oh, not you, too!  I thought you weren't listening to me anymore!

I WASN'T, BUT I GOT BORED.

Got bored?  Since when do you get bored?  You can listen to other ponies' minds, too.

WELL, YES, BUT THEIR THOUGHTS WERE SCARED AND DEPRESSING, AND I THOUGHT IT WOULD BE REFRESHING TO LISTEN TO SOME THAT WERE LIGHTER IN NATURE.  SOFTER, LIKE A... PILLOW.

Spike looked over to Celestia.  Still in that pose, staring at the army guys.  The voice behind his ears began to laugh.

Aw, come on, Celestia!

TH... THERE'S NOTH-*HA* NOTHING WRONG WITH IT.  IT'S PERFE-PERFECTLY NA-*HA*-NATURAL.

Who told you?!  Who told you?!

NOT-*HA*-NOT IMPORTANT.  I-I'M SORRY FOR LA-*HA*-LAUGHING.  I JUST COULDN'T BELIEVE IT WHEN I HEARD!

Spike knew that AppleJack would never spill a secret like that; she would prefer to keep the joke to herself to make it all the more sadistically humorous.  The only pony obsessive enough to get the dirt on every Rarity-based secret in Equestria was-

"Uh-huh.  I have to go now," Spike said.  AppleJack had just finished up a sermon about chocolate, but he had heard none of it.  His mind was preoccupied with Celestia.  He walked out of the dome stoically with a wave to the crowd.

OH, SPIKE, I-*HA*-I'M SORRY!  COME BACK!  I PRO-PROMISE I'LL STOP!  I'M SORRY!

---

"SWEETIE!!!" Spike half-growled, half-yelled once he entered the C.M.C.'s dome.

"Huh?" Sweetie said, looking up from her cards.  The flop and turn were on the ground between the three ponies.

"YOOOOUuuuuuuu....," Spike said.  He pointed a finger at her for dramatic effect, "yoooouuuu TOLD her!"****

"Uh..., what are you talking about?"

"You told Celestia about it, didn't you?!"

"Told her about what?"

"Th... the...."  Spike leaned close and whispered in her ear:  "The.... thing.  You know....  THAT thing...?"

"I don't get it," Sweetie said.  None of the ponies were the slightest bit nervous at Spike's outburst.

"You have the closest connection to Rarity, right?" Spike said, standing back up and facepalming exasperatedly.

"Yeah."

"And you started hangin' out with Celestia a few months ago?"

"Yeah.  I don't see where this is going."

"So isn't it possible to let things... slip in normal conversation?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"So, aren't those three facts making a connection?"

"No.  I still don't get it."  Sweetie's glassy eyes reflected Spike's face back at him.  He looked like a constipated midget wrestler.

"Reeeaaallllyyyyy?" Spike said, and leaned in close again.  The smell made him hungry for marshmallows.

"Aw, give it up, Spike.  She ain't never gonna'dmit she told 'Tia 'bout tha pillow," AppleBloom said.  She continued to stare at her cards.  She placed a white chip in the center stack.

Spike's head whipped in AppleBloom's direction.

"APPLEBLOOM!!" exclaimed Sweetie with a squeak.

"Well, that argument weren't gettin' anywhere anyway.  'T ain't no secret, neither."

"Who knows?!  Who knows?!" Spike frantically asked.

"Just a couple of us:  Lyra, BonBon, Cheerilee-"

"YOU TOLD CHEERILEE?!?"

"Donut Joe, Allie Way, the Flim-Flam brothers-"

"WHY WOULD YOU TELL THEM?!  YOU HATE FLIM AND FLAM!!"

"Carrot Top, Berry Punch, Cherry Jubilee, Roseluck, Lily, Pinkie, the Cakes (includin' tha twins)"

"THEY'RE FOALS!  WHY DO THEY NEED TO KNOW?!?"

"Derpy, Vinyl, Octavia, Jeff Letrotski, Granny Smith, Big Mac, Nurse Redheart, Colgate, Spitfire, Soarin, Lotus, Aloe, Cloudchaser, Flitter, and oh yeah!  Rarity's parents!"

Spike had been lying face-down since "Vinyl."  The pile of chips was digging into his chest.

"Why?" he asked calmly, but desperately.  "Why would ya DO that?  I'm probably already the laughing stock of the Equestrians!"

"No y'all ain't, and besahdes, we didn't tell everypony.  Sweetie let it slip in a conversation with Pinkie, and things sorta snowballed from there."

"Why would Sweetie do it?  Why?"

"'Cause she had a picture of you doin' it, and looked at it whenever she needed a good laugh."

"I'm not gonna ask how she got the picture.  Does Rarity know?"

"She don't need to.  She prob'ly already knows 'bout yer feelin's."

"Gee, thanks.  What a pick-me-up."

"It's OK, Spike.  None of those ponies really care about it (I'm pretty sure)," Sweetie sympathetically added.

"And your parents?  How did they find out?"

"They found that picture in my room one day.  Guess I didn't do that good a job hiding it.  They just laughed it off."

"Really?  That seems a little out there that they would dismiss something like that."

"Well, my parents are weird sometimes.  And they figured somepony just edited the photo to look like that."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Scootaloo?  Is she tellin' the truth?"

"Totally," Scootaloo said.  "I mess with pictures all the time.  They probably thought I did it."

"Oh...."  Spike stood up.  "Well, then I guess it's OK."  He hesitated for a few moments.  "I'll go out and hang with some of the other ponies, OK?"

"Sure thing, Spike," Sweetie replied.  Her cards were the highest.  Spike walked out of the bubble and past the army tents.

"Close save, Scoot," Sweetie said.

"Thanks.  Same to you.  Couldn't tell him what really happened.

---

(TWO MONTHS EARLIER)

Large pipes ran the length of the rectangular room, which stretched a mere thirty feet ahead.  The ceiling's height seemed a few feet shorter.  A mere twelve feet separated the inner and outer walls.  A small, thin bulkhead door was on one side of the inner wall, which exited to one of the upper sleeping deck's corridors (which were originally hallways for repair-ponies back in the ship's shittier days).  The other wall was supported by twenty feet of solid metal; beyond lay the deadly vacuum of space (unless you were a unicorn, in which case you could poof up a magical space suit with a rebreather).  Sweetie's bed lay at the opposite side of the room from the door, and a massive hole in the wall lay a few feet above (used as a pipe to move the shit from one secondary tank to another-the white ponies' room was the end of the line).   Another, smaller bulkhead door was on the wall on the left side of Sweetie's bed; originally a waterproof supply closet, the room to the left of the bed was now Sweetie's closet (containing only two party dresses, at Rarity's insistence).  Rarity's mattress was on a metal fold-out bunk against the outer wall.  The short, rusty chains that supported the bunk began at the ceiling.  Ironically, Rarity never minded that her bed frame was covered in rust-dust.  She believed it important to sleep up high; the artificial gravity would smooth out any wrinkles in her skin.  Rarity's fashion supplies brutally crowded "her side" of the room, while Sweetie only kept books in her wooden nightstand to the right of her bed.  Dull, dark-green paint covered the walls (though most was obstructed by rust), and thick bolts held the metal wall-panels in place.  The paint had originally been applied to prevent corrosion from thousands of years of crap-and-piss-filled water, but had only lasted about eight-hundred.  To top the dismal look off, an yellowish-orange cage light made the decay glow, making it look older and rustier than it already was.

Sweetie lay back on her bed and stared up at the light; she sighed sadly.  Her sister was talking to friends in the cafeteria (a deck below), and her parents had been placed on the other side of the ship (at Rarity's request).  She was alone.  She opened her endtable's drawer and pulled out the picture, which lay under a stack of books.  She had spotted Spike with his pillow a month earlier while walking by his room (the dumbshit had forgotten to lock his door) and snapped a picture with her favorite Coltaroid.  She ran away just in time to hear him say, "Wha?"  Sweetie had altered the image herself, using a picture AppleBloom had taken of her at somepony's birthday party.  The white pony's face on the pillow was replaced by her younger sister's with the help of double-sided tape (stolen from Rarity's supply cabinet).  Sweetie sometimes stared at the picture for tens of minutes at a time, imagining the fun that pillow must have been experiencing.  She normally would not have been as curious, but her menarche had come a few months before, and the occasional sound from Soarin and Spirfire's room below had intrigued her.  In addition, the filly's first orgasm had been incited a month ago, quite by accident.

Sweetie had tripped on a small flight of stairs leading to her sleeping deck and fell to the side, where a large pipe-hub lay.  As she righted herself by sitting down on the hub, ready to slip back to the main floor, a freakishly large (fortunately un-rusted) bolt-head found its way into her crotch area.  Her "slit," as she had often called it, was behind its skin panel, but a bizarre, yet interesting feeling down there had arisen.  As she tried to move herself off of it, the feeling returned-  something like a hot tightening of the muscles.  She stared out at the corridor-nopony in sight.  It was late anyway (by Equestria time), and the rest of her race was asleep (the only reason she had gotten up at all was for a midnight snack).  She retracted the panel and allowed the bolt to slip farther and farther in, each bit making the feeling stronger.  She would have let out a small, quick "mm" sound, but she kept silent; no point in waking anypony up to find her like this.  The thing was all the way in now-about three inches down.  She wished it were longer.  She sat there for about a half a minute, letting the tightening subside.  As she arose, the feeling came back.  She had not expected it to return-just to be a one-time thing, like shooting up with something.  Sweetie's mouth slowly switched from a surprised crinkle to a smile.  She lowered herself down again.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  It was official; this was the greatest feeling she had ever experienced.  She noticed the bolt was wet below her, and smelled an odd smell-like sugar water with marshmallows.  Her muscles grew tighter.  She lowered.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  And lowered.  And rose.  The tension in her slit grew phenomenally, and her legs and back followed.  She could imagine what would happen if she were to lower one last time.  She lowered once more-this time dropping down to let the force reach a maximum.  Her mouth crinkled, and her body shivered violently.  Her legs felt as if they were wrapping themselves around some invisible point, but they stayed put-straight in front of her.  The muscles seemed to rip clean out of her entire pubic area, and partially rip out of her back.  It was exactly what she had imagined.  A hot blast of some internal energy shot through her legs and slit, and she could no longer hold her voice in.  A small "MM" escaped.  Nopony heard.  She sat there for a while, eyelids closed and in happy arcs, legs closing over themselves, rubbing the slit against the bolt to eke out the rest of the energy.  The bolt was now wetter than ever, and the smell was quite strong.  Once the heat stopped shooting through, and the clamping subsided, she slowly arose and slid down to the walkway, closing the panel.  She turned back and used a quick-drying spell to get rid of any evidence.  Her eyes began to grow heavy, her body sapped of all energy.  Sweetie walked back to her room and quietly opened the door to Rarity's obnoxious snoring.  She closed the door and walked to her bed.  A note was on her endtable, written on a sticky note in blue ink, that she would never forget:

Congratulations!  Welcome to the first night of the rest of your life!

P.S.  Look in your drawer.

-L.  

Luna.  Nopony else would be up this late, and the blue ink totally gave it away.  Sweetie opened the drawer and found a long, blue stick made of hard rubber.  A small switch was on the side.  When pushed, the thing vibrated with a small hum.  Sweetie turned it off and placed it back in the drawer along with the note.  Both were hidden under the books.  She looked up at the ceiling towards the inner wall, in the general direction of Luna's room at the top of the ship.

"Thanks," she said quietly, and nestled herself under the covers.

In the morning (Equestria time, indicated by the clock on Sweetie's endtable), another note was stuck to her lower sheet:

You're welcome.

-L.        

Sweetie listened carefully to be sure that nopony else was around.  She walked to the door to be sure it was locked.  She nervously walked back to her bed and took the stick out of its drawer, and took the stick and picture into the closet with her (which looked no different from the rest of the room).  A smaller cage-light was inside, which was perfect for illuminating the picture.  Sweetie locked the door, knelt down on her front two legs, placed the picture in front of her, turned the stick on, opened the panel, and began the insertion, using her left hoof to control the stick.  After about a minute of slow reciprocation, Sweetie's mouth hung open and her tongue began to hang out.

"Oh, Spike," she mumbled.  "If only I were that pillow...."

She imagined his musings from above:  Oh, Sweetie!  It's so tight!  Why didn't I think of this before?

"Thanks," she mumbled.

You're so warm and wet....  This is the greatest thing I've ever felt!

"Me, too, Spike."

She amped up the force with her hoof and imagined his hands wrapping around her cheeks, bracing for strong impact.

Come on, Sweetie, let's turn up the juice!

"Anyth-*ooh!*  Anything you want, Spike."

The pounding continued, until Sweetie could take no more.

"Oh, Spike, I can't take anymore!"

C'mon, Sweetie!  Just a few more seconds!

"I'm not sure if I can!"

Do it for me, Sweetie!

"No, it's too strong.  I'm gonna squirt!"

Changed my mind!  Me, too!

One final slam pounded the stick in as far as it would go.  Her inner muscles clenched tightly around the stick and refused to let it go.

"MMM!"

Oooohhhhh, yyyyeeeaaaahhhh!!

Sweetie imagined that her flowing vaginal juices was Spike's semen.  The burning hot energy shot through again, as her vaginal walls kept rubbing strongly against the stick.

"I... I love you, Spike."

I love you too, Sweetie.

Once the energy was fully released, Sweetie stood up and performed the drying spell on both the stick and the floor.  As she was about to leave, she heard a horrible sound-somepony knocking violently on the main door.

It's OK, Sweetie thought.  I can get back into bed without anypony noticing, or I can make an excuse if they get too curious.

"Just a second!" Sweetie called as she exited the closet.  The knocking stopped.

"NOT GOOD ENOUGH!" a muffled voice screamed from outside.  A more horrible sound than the first ensued, end Sweetie immediately knew what she was up against:  the most unnecessarily curious pony in all of Equestria.

The grinder was a horrific device with the body of a hoof-held chainsaw and a grinding disc for a head.  Pinkie used it to cut down doors of those who deserved to hear important information but were too stubborn to come out.  She revved it up with a few pulls of the starting cord, and sparks flew from the main door with a terrible screech.  Sweetie rushed to stow the evidence back in the drawer.  She leaped into bed and pulled out a book without looking at the title.  The sparks continued to fly.

The closet door was still open.

Sweetie rushed over and slammed it shut, then jumped back into bed.  Ten seconds later, the center of the door fell in with a freakish, ringing slam.  She flipped to a random page in her book.

"Hey, Sweetie, what's shakin'?" asked Pinkie as she zoomed inside.  She had left the grinder outside for some reason.

"Oh, nothin' much, Pinkie.  Just... readin'."

"Cool!  I was just in the neighborhood and wondered if you wanted to come to my annual shindig tonight!"

"But you just had an annual shindig yesterday."

"No, no, no.  That was the other annual shindig!  This one's totally different!"

"Uh... I... I guess so.  I don't see why not, but I'm a little tired out from yesterday's."

Pinkie's eyes squinted.  "Hmmm....  Watcha readin' there, Sweetie?"

Uh-oh!  Wrong answer!

"Oh, this?  This is a spell book I borrowed from Twilight.  I'm learnin' some new magic stuff."  Sweetie held up the red book for Pinkie to see.

Pinkie squinted more tightly and walked to the edge of Sweetie's bed.  "Really?"

"Yeah, really.  What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothin'....  Except that you're never tired between shindigs.  I know for a fact that you can appreciate parties as much as I can!"

"Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it.  I'm just a little tired's all."

"I thought it might come to this, so I brought these two along in case you were a little... reluctant."

Pinkie pointed to the door.  AppleBloom and Scootaloo walked inside.

"Hi, Sweetie Belle!" the two said in unison.

"Oh, hi, girls!"

"AppleBloom, Scootaloo, something's wrong with your friend, here.  Seems she isn't up for a party!"

"Is that why you brought us along?  I thought you just wanted to show off the grinder again," said Scootaloo.

"Well, that, too.  But this is a more important matter, and I thought that if anyone can straighten her out, it's you two."  Pinkie's tone was much darker than before, and she knew something was up.  She was an expert vibe-reader.  "You two settle this thing, and I'll pass out more invitations, 'K?"

"Uh, OK," said AppleBloom.

Pinkie walked out of the room and knocked on an adjacent door.  No answer.  Grinder screech.  The two ponies walked to Sweetie's bed.

"It's gonna be really fun, Sweetie," said Scootaloo.

"I don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this.  It's just a party."

"Well, it don't seem right of a pony to not wanna come to her own birthday party, I gotta admit," said AppleBloom.

Uh-oh.

The orange and yellow ponies stared at Sweetie curiously.

They're all teasing me!

"Y'all sick'r sum'n?"

"No.  I'm fine.  And I do want to go, really.  I don't know why I said I was tired in the first place."

"You're sweating," said Scootaloo.

"Yeah, n'blushin', too."

It was true.  Sweetie could feel her cheeks going hot.

Why didn't I just say 'yes?'  Why?  Why?  Why?

Sweetie sighed.  "Girls, I...."

The two other ponies looked back worriedly.

"I'm... not sure how to... tell you this...."

"You a lesbian or somethin'?" asked Scootaloo.

"No!  It's not that at all...  I...."

"Sweetie, y'all's worryin' us.  Y'ain't normally this shivery on yer birthday."

It was the most awkward position Sweetie had ever been put in.  She had no idea what to tell them.  It was true that there was nothing wrong with it, and all ponies entered puberty at about this age, but if AppleBloom and Scootaloo had not, there was no hope of them understanding.  Sweetie sighed again.

"Open the drawer," Sweetie said morosely.  "I don't really wanna say it out loud."

AppleBloom opened the drawer, and dug around until she pulled out the stick.

"This is what y'all'r scared about?"

Another sigh.  "Yeah.  It's a present I got from Luna a little while back."

"So?  What's there to be scareda?  Mah sister's got one'a these.  I've seen it in her drawer."

"Yeah, but do you know what it's for?"

"Sure, I know what it's for.  I hear AppleJack in the bathroom all the time.  It's crazy annoyin'-hearin' alla that moanin' 'n such."

"Scootaloo?  Do you know what it's for?" Sweetie asked nervously.

"Sure I do.  Luna gave me one of those months ago."

"S... so you're not... weirded out?"

"No.  Why would we be?  It's totally fine."

"You both think so?"

"Yeah," said Scootaloo.  Applebloom had found the picture, and stared at it with wide eyes.

"Whose face was originally on that pillow?" asked AppleBloom.

"Rarity's."

"PINKIE!!  WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY DOOR?!?" screamed a deep male voice from down the hall.

"I cut it down, that's what!  You blind or somethin'?" Pinkie's distant voice replied.

"YEAH, I CAN SEE YOU CUT IT DOWN, BUT WHY?"

"'Cause you weren't answering, and I have news that's more important than you think!"

"OK, FINE!  ENLIGHTEN ME!  I CAN'T FUCKING WAIT TO HEAR WHAT'S THIS IMPORTANT!"

"Wanna come to my annual shindig tonight?  It's gonna be craaaaaaaazy!"

Silence.  More knocking on doors, done presumably by the male.

"Is there a unicorn here?  Anypony?  I need help fixing a door.  Looks like she got somepony else's-make that two doors.  Anypony?  Hello?"

The C.M.C. heard somepony else walking down the hall, then, "Don't worry, Thunderlane.  I got this."  Vinyl Scratch, by the informal tone of voice.  A loud creaking sound  filled the hall as the metal was fused back together.

"Thanks, Vinyl.  I owe ya one."

"Whoa.  Looks like they got another," Vinyl said.  She walked to Sweetie's door and magically lifted the fallen piece up without looking inside.  More creaking.

"All better," she said.  Her voice was extremely muffled.

"Hey, Vinyl!  You still on for tonight?"

"You know it, P!  I got some new pressings I think they'll love!  I even got the Bashed Bits to play!"

"Coo-well!  How'd you get 'em to agree to that?"

No answer.

"Well, anyway, see ya later, V!"

"Later, P!"

"Bye, Thunderlane!"

"Bye, Vinyl."

"See ya, Thunderlane!"

"Fuck you, Pinkie."

Thunderlane's door slammed shut.

"He seems pretty pissed today," said Vinyl.

"Ah, don't worry.  All he needs is a special shot of Pinkie's Poofy Party Punch!  He'll feel better in no time!"

"Why'd ya call it 'poofy'?"

"Because it makes your mouth go all dry.  Feels like you have poofy cotton candy in your mouth!  I thought it up myself!"

"Uh, Pinkie?  Whaddya put in that stuff?  Are you sure it isn't toxic?  'Cause the only stuff I know of that makes your mouth do that is poison joke oil."

"Poison joke oil?  The I thought I got regular joke oil.  Dammit, I'm always getting the wrong stuff!  Better get some better ingredients."

"I'd recommend that."

"Well, thanks for the tip, V!  See ya later!"

"See ya, Pinkie!"

Vinyl walked back to Sweetie's door and curiously opened it to see if anypony had been inside.  She saw the C.M.C. on the other side of the room.  Her sunglasses were off, and the three got a rare glimpse of her fuschia irises.  Or what could be seen of her fuschia irises, since her spiky blue hair partially obstructed them.

"Oh, hey, guys.  Didn't see ya there.  Sorry 'bout the creakin' 'n stuff."

"No, no.  It's OK," said Sweetie.  "She's done that before."

"Seriously?  Tell her to stop it, then."

"Rarity has, but Pinkie keeps buying gas for the grinder.  I think she figures it's OK if Rarity's probably not around."

"Typical Pinkie.  She'll get tired of it eventually, especially since I used magic back there to poke a hole in the gas tank," Vinyl said with a massive smirk.

Muffled knocking from outside, then, "Hey!  This thing's leaking!  I wonder...."  The rip cord was yanked.

"Pinkie, you retard!  Don't start that thing!  You'll set yourself on fire again!" Vinyl yelled into the hall.

"Oh yeah?  Do you have a better solution?"

"Throw it away!  Don't risk setting yourself on fire!"

A pause.  Pinkie considered the predicament.

"OK, fine, but I'm only doing this 'cause fire hurts!"

Pinkie walked back in the direction of Sweetie's room and up the stairs to the upper deck.  The chute to the trash compactor (magically installed by Celestia once the ship was space-borne, using an empty tertiary tank) was up there, on the left side of the hallway that led to the main chamber.  A massive *clang* resonated from deep within the far wall of Sweetie's room as Pinkie threw the damn thing in.  Within a few hours, it would be part of a massive, amorphous blob of trash.  After that, it would be shot into space by a giant piston and a conveniently placed airlock.

"Happy now?"

"Yeah.  Lemme just dry this gas trail off."

Vinyl's horn glowed white, presumably due to a quick-drying spell.

"So whatcha doin?" asked Vinyl as she walked inside the room.

"Oh, just hangin' out," said Scootaloo.

"Whatcha got in your mouth, Apples?"

"Nuffin'" AppleBloom said through poofy cheeks.

"Why didn't you just put it in the drawer?" Scootaloo whispered through her teeth.

"Shh'd heerr da drr shuttn.  I trrd to swalo ut," AppleBloom whispered.

"OK, now I'm curious," Vinyl said.  "What's in there?"

AppleBloom tried to swallow, but the picture would not budge; even in a ball, the Coltaroid cell's sharp edges held it against the opening to her esophagus.

"Whoa, don't hurt yourself, Apples," Vinyl said with a chuckle.  The white pony walked to the bed and pried open AppleBloom's mouth with magic.  More quick-fire spells pulled the ball out, uncrinkled it, dried it off, and delivered it to her upheld hoof.  Presumably, hysterical laughter ensued.  Vinyl fell to the floor as a result.

"Oh, you gotta be shittin' me!" she squealed.

"Oh, please don't tell anypony!" Sweetie pleaded.

"Yeah, it's not doin' anypony any harm!" asserted Scootaloo.  Vinyl's hysterics continued.  Once finished, she stood up.

"Well, it's obvious it's not harmin' anypony, but that's hilarious!  Spike with that pillow!"

"What was that?" Pinkie said.  She poked her head inside and *pwing*-ed over to the bed.  More laughter from both ponies.

Why didn't I close the door?!

"Now hold up, y'all!  Everypony here's gonna hear ya!" AppleBloom interjected.

"I'm s-sorry!" Pinkie said through the laughter.  "Spike and that pillow!  Oh-it's hilarious!"

"Lemme guess-Rarity's face was originally on it?  Am I right?" Vinyl asked excitedly.

"Uh... yeah," Scootaloo said nervously.  Hysterics.  Vinyl used magic to close the door.

Finally!  At least nopony else has to hear!

"Oh, the guys at the record shop have GOT to see this!" Vinyl said.  She placed the picture in her hair to carry it and began to walk to the door.

"NO!" Sweetie screamed.  She used her own magic to spark-weld the door shut.  Vinyl stopped in confusion.

"NOPONY GETS OUTTA HERE UNTIL YOU DESTROY THAT PICTURE!!" Sweetie screamed.  Her eyes were wild with fear and she panted heavily.  Her front legs were shivering.  Everypony stopped and stared.

Now I know what Twilight must feel like!

Vinyl pulled the picture out and stared at it.  She used magic to burn it away with a flash in the air.

"I... I'm sorry.  I... wasn't thinking straight," Vinyl said with frightened wide eyes of her own.

Sweetie used her magic to grind away the welding and replace the lock bars.  The door unlocked.  She placed her head in her front hooves and quietly wept.  The other ponies adopted Vinyl's fear-face.

"I...," Vinyl began, then walked out the door somberly.  "I'm a horrible pony," she said to herself in the hall.

Pinkie looked to AppleBloom, then Scootaloo, then Sweetie.

"It's... all my fault.  I never should have ground the door down," Pinkie mumbled to herself, as if in realization.  She stared back at Sweetie, who met her eyes with glassy tears.  Pinkie's look said it all.  Wide eyes with an ever-so-slight bend in the mouth and a microscopic lip parting.  Nopony present had ever seen her like this.  Every trace of even remote happiness had left her face.  She walked out somberly as Vinyl had.  The C.M.C. heard barely-audible crying outside as Pinkie walked back to her room.

AppleBloom and Scootaloo walked out quietly.  AppleBloom closed the door behind her, and Sweetie cried herself into a doze.

In the following weeks, Sweetie heard other ponies mumbling to each other about Spike's pillow, but this was because some other pony had seen him and squealed.

Pinkie never used a grinder again.

Unbeknownst to the ponies, it was near midnight on Earth.  Richard Marlon lay in his bed with earbuds in his ears.  He quietly cried to himself while listening to Mexican Wine.  The only thought that went through his head was Please fix my mom's brain!

Other than his reason for the blue tie, this was the only secret he kept from the people.

I used to fly (I used to fly) for United Airlines, then I got fired for reading High Times (I was so high).

My license expired in almost no time (Now I know why).  Now I'm retired and I think that's fine.

Because the sun still shines in the summertime.  I'll be yours if you'll be mine.

I tried to change, but I changed my mind.  Think I'll have another glass of Mexican wine.*****

---

An army guy stood in front of one of the tents and spoke through a microphone, which was hooked to two massive JBL speakers on tripod stands.  He held a clipboard with a script in the crook of his left arm.  Ol' Jimmy Lansing would have been proud.

"Attention ponies!  Attention ponies! Come to the sound!  Come to the sound!"

The technicolor mass moved to the speakers from behind and between the tents.  The ponies under the trees deactivated the magic fields.

"Under President Marlon's orders, you are to form a line, beginning there," he said as he pointed to the far shelter.  You will file into the indicated shelter.  When this one is full, on to the next one, et cetera.  Once these are filled, the remainder of you will move to the back lawn to file into those shelters.  You will be provided for with bunk beds, breakfast, lunch, and dinner of various types of... grass?" he said with an odd glance at the script.  "Confine your daily activities to either of the lawns until further notice.  Are there any questions?"

A yellow pony with blue hair and freckles raised her hoof from the middle of the crowd.

"You there, the yellow one."

"Can we teleport stuff down from the ship?" asked the pony.

The army guy flipped through pages.

"To an extent.  No weapons are allowed, and the supervisor for each tent reserves the right to reject any items which are too large."

"Define 'too large,' please," the same pony said.

"If it's too big to fit in your bunk, it's probably too big."

"OK," the pony replied.

"Each of you will be accounted for.  You are to state your names upon entering for the first time, and a picture will be taken of your cutie marks."

"Dammit," Scootaloo said to herself.

"Unless you have no cutie marks.  In which case a facial shot will be acceptable."

Some of the ponies snickered.

Why does everybody laugh at that line?  It's almost as if... OOOOHHHHHhhh... FACIAL shot!  Heh-heh-heh.

"I assume this is understood."

Nopony replied.

"Then form a line and begin filing into the first shelter."

They did as they were told, and two army guys in chairs guarded the front.  One held a fancy camera, and the other held a clipboard with 'fancy graphin' paper.'"

"Name?" the clipboard guy asked the first.  The other snapped a picture.

"Vinyl Scratch."

"Can you take your sunglasses off, please?"

Vinyl complied.

"OK, fuschia irises.  Start at the back bunks."

Vinyl replaced her glasses and walked inside.  She climbed the metal stepladder leading to the upper bunk in the back.  She looked like a giant, white spider.

The process continued.

"Name?"

"Cheerilee."

*Snap*

"Can you spell that?"

"C-H-E-E-R-I-L-E-E."

"Green irises, pink hair, purple body.  Go ahead in.  Start at the back."

"Never heard of anybody naming their kid an adverb," the camera guy said.

"Name?"

"Allie Way."

"Spell that?"

"A-L-L-I-E-Space-W-A-Y"

*Snap*

"Yellow body, about five-and-a-half feet tall, blue hair, aqua irises.  Go ahead in.  Start as far back as you can."

"What were those things on her mark?" asked the camera guy.

"They looked like those neon things outside a bowling alley."

"What are those supposed to be?"

"The fuck should I know?"

"Name?"

"Colgate."

"Colgate?  As in the toothpaste?"

"I... guess so.  It's C-O-L-G-A-T-E."

"Ah.  Blue body, darker blue and white hair, blue irises."

*Snap*

Can you even sue something of another species?

"Go ahead in.  Start as far back as you can."

"Name?"

"Milky Way."

"Any relation to Allie Way?"

"First cousin.  Father's side."

"OK.  Yellow body, blue hair, freckles.  OK, go inside.  Start as far back as you can."

*Snap*

"Oh God!" said the camera guy.

"What's up?" asked the clipboard guy.

"Uh... why do you have... two asses?" asked the camera guy.

"What the fuck?  Lemme see."

Milky Way turned to her right.

"Jesus Howard****** Christ!" the clipboard guy said, wide-eyed.  Indeed, an apparent second set of cheeks lay below the primary ones, slightly in front of her legs.

"It's not a second ass," Milky said.

"What... is it then?"

Milky flipped over to a human-like sitting down position.  She was right.  That was no second ass.

It was-

"Tits," the clipboard guy said.

"The fuck?" asked the camera guy.  Milky flipped to his direction.

"The fuck?" he restated.  Two massive, human-like breasts, situated near the crotch, stared back at him.  Neither of the two men had originally seen the nipples, and the two-ass theory had seemed quite plausible.

"Why do you think my name's 'Milky Way?'" she asked.  She returned to her standing position and walked inside.  The camera guy laughed to himself.

"Shut the fuck up!" the clipboard guy snapped.  "Name?"

"Bon-Bon," the pony said in a low woman's voice.

"Pink and blue hair, yellow body, aqua irises."

*Snap*

"Start as far back as you can."

"Alright," Bon-Bon said in a much higher voice.  She walked in before anybody could question the pitch change.  The camera guy shrugged.

This process continued until the shelter was filled.  After that, the army guys picked up their chairs and moved to the next one.  The process repeated for each shelter.  Celestia was stationed in one of the front lawn.  The massive mattress next to hers (for Luna) had a note stuck to it, on a yellow Post-It in blue ink.

To whom it may concern,

Marlon has given orders for special housing arrangements for me, since I'm nocturnal and have a difficult time sleeping during the night.  I need to be in a place that's constantly pitch-black during the day, like my room back home.  If you don't believe me, you can ask Marlon yourself.

-Luna

It was true.  When a higher-ranking army guy phoned in, Marlon told him the same, although he did not reveal exactly where she was staying (the guy showed no curiosity about it, anyway). It would seem too weird to hear that a giant blue alien was taking up closet space, possibly eating clothes like a moth larva.  In response, the army guys decided that this second mattress would be used as an upgrade to the original sleep-shift mattress in the back.  The boys in tent number 2 would be the envy of their comrades.  They were instructed not to instinctively scream when awoken, since the nine-foot-tall horse-like alien was supposed to be in bed next to them.

At seven, a guy with a large cart walked through the center of shelter 1.  Another guy did the same for shelter 2, and so on.  Large boxes lay on top in stacks, and plastic water bottles adorned with black, rectangular name-labels on top of those.

"Dinner!" he yelled.  "Each of you will get one of these boxes; they're filled with... some kind of Earth grass, since this is what Celestia told us you guys eat.  We assume these portions are correct.  You will also get a water bottle, which can be refilled at the spigots there.  Don't worry-it's cold."  He pointed to the back wall, in which four water spigots were affixed.  They were connected to the pipes that originally fed the lawn sprinklers, and would again once the shelters were taken down.

"I'll call out names for these bottles; they're each labeled for you.  Remember to keep track of them.  On other days, I'll let you come and get the food yourselves.

Vinyl Scratch!"

Vinyl climbed down and placed the bottle in her hair for safe keeping.  She took a box and climbed back up to her bunk.

"And I'd recommend you don't leave any grass clippings lying around up there.  It'll get stains everywhere."

"Hm, not bad," Vinyl said quietly as she ate her grass.

"Cheerilee!"

Cheerilee took her stuff and went to fill up her bottle.

"Allie Way!"

The process continued.  An hour later, each guy had presumably finished.  The process would only take about ten seconds when the ponies got food for themselves.

After she had finished her grass, Celestia poofed in a pen and paper, and wrote a note to Twilight and Pinkie.

Dear Twilight and Pinkie,

They've assigned us beds in those massive shelters now, and they gave Earth grass for dinner.  Pretty close to Equestria grass, actually, but a little sharp.  And by that I mean:  their grass has microscopic spikes on the side.  Then again, this is only one type.  There are lots of grass species here.  We get all the cold water we want and we have quick access to Earth toilets.  Don't worry; they work the same as the ones back home, except the portable ones don't flush.

I hope your time at the facility has been going well.  I can imagine I won't see you two for a little bit, since they'll want to monitor your sleep patterns.  Don't worry, Marlon put in an order to save two beds just for you when you get back.

Sincerely,

Celestia

---

The day had been a productive one; the two ponies had gone through C.A.T. scans, M.R.I.'s, X-Rays, E.E.G.'s, and a battery of other machines which could be hooked to the body by gluey sensors.  Twilight had even performed a spell to make the different layers of her being transparent (much like the Lateralus album cover) so that the two scientists could better study the anatomy.  Twilight performed the same spell on Pinkie, and the scientists were shocked to find that Pinkie's internal organs were arranged differently.  They were mostly congregated up near her spine, presumably to lessen the weight on her underbelly during long *pwing*-ing sessions, according to Twilight.  And her spine's discs were far more bulky, presumably to counteract the weight of the organs.  They later learned from a book that this was normal; some ponies' organs were arranged differently to better suit their predefined personality traits.

"Prenatal evolution," Wick had mused.

"Dibs on the band name," Earhart had joked in reply.

They also learned that magic could not cure everything in a pony's body; many of their internal organs were only susceptible to shape-shift magic.  The ponies had yet to determine the evolutionary purpose of this.

The scientists discovered that a pony's digestive process included the total obliteration of any visible remains of food masses; their stomach acids were insanely corrosive-much more so than humans'.  A bizarre series of internal magic processes and chemical reactions turned the amorphous blob into a chocolate-tasting substitute by literally changing and rearranging the atoms within.  The intestine linings were glazed with ions of various types to complete chemical reactions; the ions were replenished with magic energy.  The nearly incalculable amounts of energy released from the process gave the ponies massive energy boosts when they ate, which explained the extended durations of time they could survive without eating-about a month.  The ponies had yet to determine the evolutionary purpose for this, as well.

At nine o' clock, two mattresses were brought in by other fearful scientists and placed in the exam room where Marlon had been hours earlier.  The ponies were hooked up to more gluey sensors on their heads, underbellies, and backs.  They were instructed to sleep while the scientists kept watch shifts.

"But what if we're not sleepy?" asked Pinkie, staring up at them from the mattress.  She was situated on her back at the moment, and Earhart shivered at the memory.

"Why would you not be?" asked Wick.  "Is it because of the Equestria-Earth time change?"

"Oh, no.  I don't care about that time change stuff.  But I need reading material!  I can't fall asleep without reading material!"

"Pinkie!" interjected Twilight, "Just try to sleep without it this once.  They probably don't have any reading material here."

"No, no.  It's fine.  It's important to simulate the normal sleep process.  What do you normally like to read?" asked Earhart.

"Gimme somethin' sexy!" Pinkie said happily.

"Oh, God."  Another shiver.

"I... don't think we have anything like that here," Wick said.  "Is there anything else you normally like to read?"

"Well, sexy stuff is my favorite, and it is what I normally read."

"But even if we did have sexy books here, it would all be about humans.  It wouldn't be that... interesting to you."

"Sure it would!  Maybe I could learn somethin' from your writing!"

The scientists looked at each other.

"Do... you wanna... ask some of the others...?" Wick whispered.

"No way, man.  You do it.  It's gonna be embarrassing!" Earhart whispered back.

"But she... wants something sexy.  We should try to... ask around."

"You're just dodging!  You don't wanna ask!"

"Of course I don't.  That's embarrassing as Hell!"

"Rock paper scissors?"

"Flip a coin?"

"Fine."

Wick took a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it.  He slapped it against his hand.

"Call it."

"Heads."

Wick lifted up the quarter.  Heads.

"Dammit," Wick whispered.  The two scientists turned back to the ponies.

"Alright, Pinkie I-"

Pinkie was gone.  The sensors were in a slew on the mattress.

"Where'd she go?" asked Wick.

"I'm not sure," said Twilight.  "I think she went to ask around.  I tried to talk her out of it."

"Dammit.  I'll go get her," Wick said.  He walked out of the room quickly.

---

"Uh... ex... excuse me?" one of the scientists asked.

"Yeah, you know, sexy stuff!  Stuff with the vag and the dick and the schlick-schlick-schlick!" Pinkie said.  The three scientists were still in shock.  They had been working on growing rot-proof, genetically modified apples under infared light, when a pink alien had swung the door open and asked, "Hey, do you guys have any sexy books?"

"Uh... we... don't have anything like that here...." said another.

"Aw!  And I thought this place was cool, too!  Well, see ya later!" Pinkie said and left.  She shut the door behind her.  One scientist burst into laughter.  They heard a muffled voice through the wall, coming from the next room over.

"Hey, do you guys have any sexy books?"

"Uh... wha?"

"Yeah, you know!  Vag, dick, schlick-schlick-schlick?"

"Uh... try the next room over.  Bill's the one who studies that stuff."

"Okie dokie!  Thanks, mister!"

Laughter began from the next room.

"Hi, Bill!" Pinkie said loudly as she opened the next door over.  A man stood on the right of the twenty-foot deep room, looking through a microscope among a plethora of lab equipment.  He jumped at the intrusion.

"Who are you?  How'd you know what my name is?" Bill asked shakily.  The man was about forty, with a grey hair or two on the sides of his black waves.  He was slightly round, and did not look like he could use a heart attack.

"I'm Pinkie, and I was told to get you here."

"P... please.  I don't want trouble," he said, slowly moving to the back of the room.

"I don't either!  All I want is a sexy book!"

Bill paused and stared.

"A... sexy book?"

"Yeah, you know!  Vag, dick, schlick-schlick-schlick?"

"Y... you want a human sex book?"

"Yeah!  I can't go to sleep without reading material, and I want something sexy!"

"Pinkie!" Wick said.  "Don't bother Bill!  He doesn't like to be disturbed!"

"I wasn't bothering him!  I was just asking him for a sexy book!  The guys in the other room told me to come here!"

"I'm sorry, Bill.  She's new here and... doesn't know much about how we humans don't like being disturbed," Wick said, peeking through the door.

"N... no.  It's OK.  She's... not bothering me.  If they told her to come here, so be it.  C... come over here," he said to Pinkie.  He walked to a cabinet on the left side of the room.  He opened it to countless manuals and novels (used for studying societal views by literature) on the subject.

"What did you have in mind?  Novel?  Manual?  Anatomy book?"

"Gimme a novel!  I loved reading that sort of thing back at home."

Bill pulled out four novels.

"Here.  Take these.  They should do for a while."

He handed the books down to her:  How the West Was Done; Rendezvous, Then I'm Through With You*******; The Deserted Island; and Creamy, Creamy Frosting********.

"Also, try this."

He handed down Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex, But Were Afraid to Ask*********.

"This might shed some more light on human habits."

"Ooh!  Thanks, mister!" Pinkie said.  She grabbed the books and walked upright to carry them.

"I didn't know you could do that!" Wick said.

"Well, nopony does it very often, 'cause it's way easier to walk on all fours, but I've always been able to do it, no sweat.  And it's useful for carrying stuff!"

"Alright then, Pinkie.  Let's get back to the exam room," Wick said nervously.

"See ya later, Bill!"

"D... don't be afraid to come back if you have any questions," Bill said.  He was obviously excited that he could finally teach someone about his work.

Wick closed the door, and they walked back to the exam room.

---

"OK, can you get to sleep now?" asked Wick when Pinkie was hooked back up to the sensors.

"I should!" she said cheerily.  She picked up Creamy, Creamy Frosting and placed it on the ground, in front of the mattress.  She held the pages down with her hooves.

"Anything you need, Twilight?" asked Earhart.

"No, except I sleep better with the lights off, but Pinkie wants to read her book.  I'll manage."

"OK then.  We're all good from here.  Heart rates... normal."

Pinkie turned a page with the tip of her hoof.