1. Healthy Exercise

The Heart of Gold was one of the oldest, biggest, most lavish buildings on Canterlot’s main street. Considering its neighbors included a centuries-old jewelry store, a family tailor shop in its fifth generation, and no less than three foreign embassies, this was no easy feat.

It had no signage, because everyone knew what it was. It had no advertising, because everyone was familiar with its product. It had no marketing, because business was always steady. Its brick exterior and reddish, rusty color scheme was all that was needed.

The minimalism and colors extended to the interior. The foyer was spacious without being intimidating, thanks to an abundance of red linen curtains on nearly every surface. A few crushed velvet cushions waited around for occupants, and doors on the far wall led deeper into the building.

“Well, here we are. The owner knows we’re coming, so she should be right out,” the stallion said.

“Right.” Heather briefly wondered why the escort pony had needed to follow her inside the building. It’s not like she could’ve gotten lost now that they were here. Could she? Her thoughts were still a bit sluggish from the serum, but she wasn’t that bad. Was she?

She shook her head. Second guessing her new life was probably a bad idea. Everybody had her best interests at heart. They were just trying to help her; that’s what they did.

“Uhm, thank you for showing me how to get here,” Heather said.

The stallion smiled—the same sort of soothing, calm smile that the department head had used. “No problem. Why I’m here.”

Heather couldn’t think of any other small talk, so the conversation quickly petered off. Minutes passed. The lobby was completely silent, the soundproofing of the building doing its job exceedingly well.

The doors at the other end finally opened, and a mare walked through them. Were it not for the doors creaking loudly, it would have been hard to tell anypony had arrived; she entered the same way a cheetah might stalk across grasslands—purposefully, gracefully, and with no shortage of natural camouflage. Her mane and tail matched the scarlet decorations hue for hue. Her coat was only a few shades lighter, pink enough to contrast but not enough to stand out.

The sole exceptions were her cutie mark and eyes. Both were deep saffron, just bright enough to be noticeable in the lower light. Further, even though her cutie mark was not a substantial picture—a burst of fireworks—her flank had a noticeable layer of glittery makeup on it. They were like the bright collar of a black cat on a moonless night—impossible to ignore.

The mare smiled. “Well, hello again, Sturdy.”

Heather’s escort returned the smile. “Always a pleasure, Fifi.”

“I see you brought me another one.”

“Well, we know how you like first dibs on converts.” Sturdy’s tone was jocular, but the sentiment was still a bit disconcerting. Did ponies do dibs on things like that?

Fifi turned to Heather and dipped into a small, petite bow. “A pleasure to meet you, dear. My name is Fire Work, though my friends call me ‘Fifi’.” She rose up, and the subtle smile had been replaced with a bigger one. “What is your name?”

“Heather.”

“A lovely name for a lovely pegasus. Let me get a closer look at you.” Fire Work circled Heather, her eyes visibly flicking across Heather’s body.

Heather could feel her spine stiffen, her legs straighten. Fire Work’s steps were relaxed and calm, but the scrutiny didn’t feel any less thorough because of it.

After a few laps, Fire Work put a hoof to her chin. “Well, she definitely has a nice look. Pert primaries, nice color scheme, hair has some sheen to it. I think she’s good enough for a proper interview.” She waved a hoof at the door. “Thank you for bringing her over, Sturdy. I’ll have someone walk her back if she doesn’t pass.”

“By your leave, miss.” Sturdy turned to the door.

“And give my regards to Miss Shock and Mayor Shine,” Fire Work called after him.

“Always do!”

The front doors opened, and a brief burst of noise rushed in off the street. A moment later they closed, and the room was flooded with silence once again.

“Follow me, if you please.” Fire Work jerked her head towards the door.

The intersection beyond was done in the same style as the foyer, spacious and draped in red. Three hallways branched off of it, the center one much wider and lined with doorways on either side.

Fire Work headed down the center hallway, and Heather scurried after her.

“The left room is where the courtesans wait for customers and the guests shop around,” Fire Work explained. “There’s also a cashier there to keep track of transactions and hand out receipts and things. The center is where all the bedrooms are.”

“What about the right one?”

Fire Work grinned. “Storage…mostly.”

The two walked past dozens of doors. Several of them had door hangers latched onto the knobs. The cheap cardboard signs felt out of place against the carved hardwood.

They reached the end of the hallway, and the door in front of them was much more lavish than the others. It was littered with intricate, petite carvings. Instead of the simple brass strips on the others, the handle was a curved carving of a haunch.

Fire Work opened the door, and Heather had to restrain a gasp. Her eyes still widened despite herself. The bedroom was gigantic. A huge, canopied bed sat in the center, and it didn’t even take up that much of the room. Chests and desks and mirrors and a dozen other pieces of furniture lined the walls, all in the same shades of red and natural wood as the rest of the building.

“Now, since you’re here at all, I’m sure that you’re comfortable with the idea.”

“Yes.” One of the mirrors was as tall as the ceiling, and it was set in more carved wood. Was staring rude to ponies?

“Most humans have rather restrictive ideas about sex,” Fire Work said. “Very private and uncomfortable and hostile. Like the griffons, I suppose.”

Heather nodded. Her eyes had meandered to one of the desks. There was another mirror attached to the back, and various palettes and brushes and canisters were stacked neatly on it. It was almost perplexing, using a piece that nice for makeup.

“If you ask me, it’s because of those opposable digits. Ponies couldn’t really take care of themselves until they invented a way to, so we had to help each other out.” Fire Work chuckled. “Unofficial theory, naturally. I’ve never asked a griffon how often they handle themselves.” Another chuckle. “But I hear humans do it a lot.”

“Sometimes,” Heather said absently.

“Well, are you going to admire the furniture all day, or are you going to get started with your interview?”

Heather’s face snapped back to the bed. Fire Work had propped herself on her forelegs, her hooves straight and digging into the covers. Her rear legs were just the opposite; spread apart and dangling off the edge.

Fire Work smiled. “Not that your awe isn’t flattering, or that your shyness isn’t cute, of course.”

“Interview?”

“Well, I’m not just going to give you the job. Have to know you can handle yourself.” Fire Work tilted her head. Her smile tilted too, and the angle made it look smarmier and more self-satisfied. “Help yourself however you like. I give points for creativity, but I won’t argue with the classics.”

Heather didn’t move. Interviews were definitely a thing. She should have expected this. She wasn’t prepared and she didn’t know what to do.

She took a step forward. Then another. Every moment of hesitation meant she was less likely to get the job. What would happen if she didn’t? Did useless converts get sent back to Earth?

Fire Work didn’t say anything. The silent expectation surely was meant to be polite. It wasn’t helping.

Heather was finally next to the bed. Fire Work’s coat was incredibly smooth. From a distance it looked so sleek and shiny and uniform, and up close it was almost the same. A few bits of hair stuck out at weird angles, but only in a few places.

Heather knelt down, and her nose finally passed through the layer of perfume. The smell of Fire Work’s body wasn’t strong, but there was no hiding it that close. The gentle stench of sweat and salt mixed with a few other things.

The visual impact was even more potent. Heather had never seen a horse vagina before. She briefly remembered that she had one too, now. She hadn’t really bothered to inspect herself since the conversion. Her body didn’t feel foreign, so why bother?

Now she had no choice. The color contrasted greatly with Fire Work’s red coat and red bedspread. It was bigger and fuller and plumper than the human version.

Heather blinked, long and hard. Why was she comparing them? She couldn’t really remember what her human body was like, anyway.

Her tongue fell out of her mouth, and for a brief moment it felt so much bigger than it should; the same as Fire Work’s pussy.

Heather leaned forward. Should she close her eyes? Did ponies like theatrics like that? Would it hurt her aim?

Her tongue pressed against Fire Work’s groin. The smell was on her tongue now, salty and sweaty mixed with a few other things. She heard Fire Work gasp. That was good. She was supposed to make others happy; that’s what ponies did.

Now what?

Her legs were getting stiff. She sat down, and she could feel her tongue press deeper into Fire Work’s folds. The taste was overpowering. The smell was overpowering. Her nose brushed against Fire Work’s stomach, and the hair felt so smooth and nice.

With every movement of her tongue, there was a tiny shudder and a sharp intake of breath from Fire Work. It was almost imperceptible, so subtle and restrained, but it was there.

Heather could feel her tongue swimming around, liquids pooling around it as she tried to push it further in. She swallowed, and a trickle of something fell down her chin.

Fire Work was breathing faster now. One of her forehooves latched onto Heather’s head, and she let out a dull gasp. As Heather’s lips brushed against her clit, she let out another. And another.

Heather could feel her jaw getting tired. How long had she been doing this? Was it long enough?

Fire Work’s foreleg buckled, and her back hit the bed with a loud, theatric flop. Heather could feel Fire Work’s hoof pressing her face forward, her tongue being squeezed and Fire Work’s juices soaking into it, her nose bumping into Fire Work’s crotch and the smell sticking to it.

Fire Work shuddered and moaned and dug her hoof into Heather’s skull. Then her hoof went limp and Heather could feel her body sink into the mattress.

Heather coughed a little as she came up for air. It felt like breaking the surface of water after diving. Her mouth and chin were soaked. As cold air hit her face, she could feel some the liquids dribbling down her chin, running down her neck.

For a moment the room was quiet, save the sound of heavy breathing coming from the two ponies.

“Not…not bad,” Fire Work muttered. She rolled over, and her tail brushed across Heather’s face as it settled back into place. “Definitely…enthusiastic.” She turned her head. “But also a bit mechanical.”

“What?”

“You didn’t even enjoy yourself. It felt like you were more concerned with doing it right than with anything else.”

“You…you could tell?”

“Of course! Good sex isn’t just one way.” Fire Work giggled softly. “Plus, I’ve been doing this a while.”

“I’m sorry. I’m…I’m still getting used to everything.” Heather absently wiped her mouth. Her hoof didn’t clean it correctly. “Can…can I try again?”

Fire Work smiled. “Well, with an attitude like that, how can I say no?” Her tail drifted out of the way again. If Heather’s mouth hadn’t already been covered in it, she would have been hit with a particularly strong whiff of Fire Work’s musk.

Heather rolled her jaw a little; she could feel her muscles pop slightly.

She closed her mouth and tried to smile. The motion was stiff, like an overstarched scarf. Finally, she managed a half-smile, and the other side of her face soon followed suit.

Right, enjoy yourself.

Author's Note

"Sex without love is merely healthy exercise."
― Robert A. Heinlein