Five Dances in Dreamland

1

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...dm, dm, dm...

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...dnt, dnt, dnt...

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..."— —?"...

...dk, dk, dk...

..."T— —t!"...

Name.

"Twilight!"

Knock-knock-knock!

Spike. Fell asleep.

"Twilight! You awake?"

Don't remember leaving the covers on...

"Dash dropped by! I went ahead and let her in!"

How late did I let it get?

She slid her lids open. Early evening. Groan.

Not late enough.

She tossed her head back towards the door.

"I'll be out in a minute!"

She let her head fall back down. Still lying under the covers, she shut her eyes and gave her body a big stretch. Her hands felt around: just a bra under a T-shirt and some panties. Sigh. She heaved her head out of the little dribble next to her open book. She opened her eyes again. "...white dwarf...D = 10^[(m-M+5)/5]...binary star system...Chandrasekhar limit..." She shut the book. She rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed. A camping backpack in the corner—open and empty. A brown paper bag by the door—sunscreen and summer clothes inside. She leaned forward and pushed herself off the bed, climbing down from her top bunk.

Over by the window, her pet owl, Owloysius, sat perched sleeping, waiting for night to come. She walked over and brushed a hand over his head. Then she snapped her fingers. A violet glow appeared around the book on her pillow and it began to levitate. She walked the book over to the bookshelf and nudged it inside an empty space, between Dragonblood Pyrogenics and The Horse in Equestrian Folklore.

She pushed herself past a half-open closet door and looked up. Her blue gala dress hung in front of her—the one Rarity made for her. She pushed it aside and stared into the full-body mirror that stood against the back wall. Dark complexion. Slim. No tone. Bed hair. A small purple T-shirt. Plain white panties. She pulled a brush from a nearby drawer and fixed up her hair. She threw the brush back in and shut the drawer. She looked at herself for a bit. She put her hands on her hips and swung one hip forward, giving a smile to the mirror. She brought her hands up. She cupped her little breasts and kneaded them a bit. She pressed them together. They hid well in that mess of T-shirt. Her smile faded. She turned her body around and showed her butt to the mirror. She gave the mirror another grin. The fabric of her panties sagged just the slightest bit over her flabby cheeks. There was a dumb pink heart on the butt.

Twilight Sparkle sighed.

She let her arms fall. Squatting down, she shut an open drawer of jeans and reached for the deep-blue skirt she had thrown earlier in the day. She pulled it on, along with some fresh knee-highs, and stepped out of the closet.

Her bare socks slipped on the wood floor. She went to her bedroom door to take the brown bookbag that hung there. She looked inside. A rather thick volume sat by itself at the bottom. She pulled it out. An old notecard had been stuck in as a bookmark somewhere in the preface. She opened to it. "...if we consider this alternative...a proposition yet to be contested...theories have been proposed in the past..." She shut the book. "Commentaries on Accounts of...Volume II...First Edition...With Introduction by..." She snapped her fingers and the book hovered over and fell beside her shelf atop a stack of books—mostly small paperback romance novels. She hung her bag on her shoulder and approached her nightstand.

A journal lied beside her lamp. Black—as night. A bright violet bookmark stuck out from about halfway through. She reached down and lifted the book. She opened to the bookmark. Today's date was written, with nothing below it. She turned back a page.

I've finally started reading that book for the report. I have to send it to the princess by Monday though, so I'm afraid I won't be getting much sleep this weekend.

I saw her again today. I pretended not to notice her. I can keep my distance by staying inside working on my report, but there's still Saturday I have to worry about....

She turned back a few more pages. All the handwriting was messy. Then, an entry from a week ago:

Today, I had the closest thing to what I could call a step forward. The troubling thing is that it was merely a conversation, and it was with a girl. My friend Fluttershy, to be precise.

Fluttershy is sweet, caring, though soft-spoken. She is a joy to spend time with; she can open herself up a little bit when it's just the two of us, and I can be more relaxed and less worried about making conversation around her.

She heard a laugh from Rainbow Dash downstairs.

She turned a page forward.

Then I caught her in town on a break; she invited me over for coffee, and we went to her cottage. I just asked for some warm milk, though; I didn't feel like I needed the caffeine. I always feel bad about asking favors of Fluttershy, just because of how outwardly accommodating she is. We sat at the table outside and had some small talk. She asked me about my studies. I said I was finishing the supernova report. (I guess that was a lie; I haven't even opened that book as of today.) The conversation went somewhere else. She talked about...something; I don't remember.

At one point, we had both stopped talking. We just listened to the birds singing. There was a small flower garden beside the table at which we sat, and we both took notice of two Vanessa cardui butterflies on one of the flowers—they were mating. Fluttershy gave a little "aw..." surely knowing we were both looking at them. Then she said something like "She's so lucky!" Fluttershy intrigues me; she thinks of animals in ways I never do. But I must have made some sort of face after that or something, because after a quick silence she went on: "I mean, he's lucky too. I guess they're both lucky! I mean...." Then she stumbled a bit and trailed off. I definitely knew something was the matter by this point. However, I didn't know what to say; I didn't know what was going on. She just finished with "Never mind..." and tried to avert her glance from me. I spent a moment trying to think of something to say. I eventually just asked her what was up, trying to sound helpful. She gave a nervous laugh and said it was nothing. Then she started talking about how, while she is happy when she sees animals with their mates, it's started to make her feel envious recently.

She stopped there. I was tempted to pry. She was opening up just the way I've always wanted someone to open up to me. But I still hesitated. Nothing but the bird songs sounded; they sung as if begging for an accompaniment. Finally, I asked her if there was anyone in particular she was thinking of, qualified with an "If you don't mind me asking." She said it was fine, and that there wasn't anyone she was thinking of, as she only really talked with me and the rest of the gang. She said she didn't really know any boys, and she wouldn't know how to talk to one anyway. I asked her what the hurry was, then. She gave an "um..." and I apologized, saying she didn't have to talk about it if she didn't want to. She said it was fine, and she wanted someone to talk to about this anyway, but that she was still scared to. I told her we could talk about it anytime if she wanted. We sat there for a while—she still afraid to speak up, but insistent on trying. She started to ramble a bit; she talked around the issue, talking about how even though we'd been friends for over a year then, we had never been up front about this topic. Eventually, though, she came out in the open. "I..." she began, "I just feel sort of left behind now. We're all over 20, and I know I'm the only virgin in the group." It shocked me a bit to hear her use that word, and her voice was shaking, so I could tell it made her uncomfortable to say it. But I had no idea where she got that idea from. Had she talked with the others? I didn't even know if it was true. Except for the obvious—and I told her that, too; I said I knew why she felt that way, then said, "But first off, it's not true. You're not the only one in the group." She was confused; she stammered a bit, but then understood. "You mean," she said, "You? Really?" I nodded. She sat there for a moment. "Wow. I'm glad to hear that. I mean, I'm sorry—I mean—oh shoot, never mind." I think we were both blushing really hard by this point. But I (and she too, I suspect) had this great feeling of openness and release—that "got something off your shoulders" feeling. Then she nervously reached for my hand on the table and nudged it a bit. We fiddled around trying to grab each other, not really knowing what we were doing, but then had each other's hands tight in our own. She said, "Thank you so much for sharing this with me. It means oh so much, Twilight." I thanked her too, and I gave her a smile. I was terrified by how much I was surely sweating by that point.

Nothing much happened after that. We sat together in the silence for a while longer, just enjoying the relief I guess; listening to the bird songs. Then, we finished up our drinks, and I went home.

I have no one else to ask, and the day may soon come that I may make love with someone. If that day comes, how will I know what to do? I know it won't be like my novels; we won't be caught in some awkward situation together and decide to make love right there on the spot; it won't be some Florence-Nightingale-inspired passion after some contrived accident. But the moment we held hands there was one of the most intimate of moments I've had with another person, and I didn't even know what to do then.

And tell me, Journal, if no one else will, what did this day with her mean? Should I care that it was the first time I've had my hand held like that before? Could there be more she still hides from me? Is it even possible she could feel anything for me? Can I make her feel something for me? Am I the only girl who can love a woman?

It's funny, I didn't think I could ever write so much, but I just don't have anyone to talk to. I can't talk to the friends who make me feel this way in the first place.

—

I forgot to write about this earlier: I ran into her again on the way back from Fluttershy's. She just saw me from across the street and yelled "hi," and I said "hi" back, but nothing else. She just took off after that while I kept to myself. I'm tempted to start avoiding her; I never know what to do around her anymore. I don't feel like I can open up or express myself around her anymore. Why do I have to be so cloistered, while she's so forward?

"Yo, Twilight!" Dash. "Get your butt down here already!" Twilight shut her journal.

"On—!" she was hoarse—she cleared her throat—"On my way down!" She shoved the journal in her bag and rushed to the door, slipping and stumbling in her socks. She grabbed the knob. She stared at it with a quick sigh. Twilight put on her best face and stepped out.

2

White gym shorts. Blue tank top. A sports bra underneath. Rainbow Dash stood at the foot of the staircase with an open book. Without looking up, she held up her right stopwatch arm.

"So I left to come get you exactly..." she looked up at her watch and smiled, "...eleven minutes and twelve seconds ago, and I got here...ten minutes and twenty-three seconds ago. You get lost up there, bud?" Dash's arm fell and she flipped a page.

Twilight started down the staircase. "'Came to get me?' Where...?" She started yawning. "...from where?"

"Oh, well she's almost finished up over there and she wanted to show it to you. I said it was pretty neat, I guess."

"You mean the thing for tomorrow?"

"Yup." Dash flipped back some pages.

"So wait, is everyone over there right now?" Twilight stopped halfway down. Living room empty.

"Yeah, we've been kinda popping in and out all day. I figured I'd come get you since she's been getting kinda annoying, what with the squealing and bouncing around the place. Yeah, I think it was just me and her down there when I left."

"Wait, Rainbow Dash, what are you re—" It was a coffee-table-sized book—the title: An Archive of Modern Adult Enter—"Rainbow Dash—!" Twilight's socks slipped on the wood stairs—her heart caught—weightless—falling—her tush hit the steps and she slid—thumt-thumt-thumt! thumt, thumt, thumt!—her feet hit the floor, but something caught her back. She'd stopped.

Twilight opened her eyes. There was Rainbow Dash—with a gallant arm folded under Twilight's back, and a firm hand grasped in Twilight's. Dash gave a chortle, "You okay, tiger?"

Twilight grunted, "Ugh, yeah." She looked up at Rainbow Dash. Gazing at her—magenta galaxies veiled behind shining glass—a caring and cocky smirk—the messy tousle of iridescent gold. A leg of muscle rested on one of the steps—panties peeking out from under tiny gym shorts. A sweaty musk enveloped them.

The giant book caught Twilight's eye. It sat open to a picture of a woman in yellow-striped blue spandex grabbing her ass cheeks, standing in front of a toned man wearing nothing but pilot's goggles on his head. The adrenaline started to wear off. The pain in her butt started to sting. Twilight groaned.

"Just, let me get over to the couch..." She started to push herself up. Dash squeezed Twilight's hand and lifted her to her feet. Twilight said thanks. She stumbled over to the couch, dropped her bag, and collapsed. "Now put that book away, will you?"

"C'mon, you said I could come and check it out!" She kicked the book shut behind her. "You're the one who showed it to me!" A pout.

"I didn't say you could just waltz in and flaunt it around. Besides, Spike's here. Speaking of which, where is he?"

"In the bathroom. Went about...wow, six and a half minutes ago. So you know what that means, of course."

"Huh?"

"And I don't blame him either, y'know?"

"Wait, what?"

"You know—Spike." Rainbow Dash dropped her voice. "He's getting to be around that age, right? He's like, thirteen now, isn't he?"

"What are you—? Oh no, come on, Dashie, that's not what he's doing!"

"I'm just saying, is all!" Dash looked away, holding her hands up. "We both know all that's gotta go somewhere."

"Ranbow Dash!" Twilight sat up, cheeks afire. A sting—her leg sore—"Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow...!" Dash was there in a flash—

"Woah, careful there, Twilight!" She held up Twilight's outstretched leg, still in its sock. "Those stairs really kicked your ass, didn't they?"

"Yeah, literally."

"I saw." Dash chuckled. "But here, we're gonna take care of this right now—it's just the right one right?"

"Yeah, I think so, but you don't have to—"

"Here, lay your head back—no, all the way—there we go, yeah, get it off the armrest thing—scoot your butt forward a bit—there, that's it—and we're gonna get your leg elevated here—" Dash lifted the leg and rested it on the other armrest. "Just a sec—" She went over and heaved the nearby loveseat back over to the couch, and sat beside Twilight.

"C'mon Dash, I'm fine..."

"Nah, it's cool; don't worry."

"Aren't they waiting for us—"

"Now check it—we're gonna try and make sure this doesn't bruise." Rainbow Dash reached out and grabbed the edge of Twilight's knee-high sock. Her fingers pinched and curled. She pulled the fabric back—over her knee—down her leg—over one ankle—the other—her heel—then pulled the sock free over her foot. Air.

Rainbow laid the sock on the back of the couch. "Where does it hurt?" Twilight touched the tendon below her knee. "Here?" Twilight nodded, then tried to reach for her lower leg. Dash laid a hand on Twilight's shin. "And here?" Twilight nodded. Dash's hands stretched forward. Fingers brushed against her knee. Skin like air, moist feathers. Velvet and silk. Blue wind swirling around fingertips—air breaths and whispers fluttering in the air. Hands wrapped around her leg. Olive upon chestnut. Bony slender thumbs pressed upon her knee. Pressing in. Power. Muscle—strength. Squeeze. Knead. Tendons flex and part. Breathing. Thumbs—knobs—thick, and full—dig and bore. Heaving, weight, like lungs.

Dash looked up. "How's that feel?" Twilight simply nodded. Dash's colored head fell back down. "So it looks like we're fuckin' taking Scootaloo and the kids with us tomorrow."

"Mmpf—I thought you liked Scootaloo."

"She likes me."

"I thought that you liked that she likes you."

"Meh. Sometimes it can be cool. A lot of the times it's just annoying, the way she tries to pal around with me all the time. I keep freaking out that I'm gonna get arrested 'cause of how much she's always touching me—I'm like, 'hey, we're in public, kid!" Twilight made a face. Dash chuckled. Her hands crawled down to Twilight's shin. Twilight's eyes rose. Long, bones of arms working. Veins throbbing. Blood hydraulics. Then, fabric stretched over  slender figure. Breasts like a man's—at once, smooth plains; at once, rolling hills. Red heart fistbeating blood within. Hermaphroditus. Then, small bobbing head—tender handcheeks—glowing golden brown, veiled by strands of color—infinite color. She, the tiny furnace of muscle—the relentless gale.

Dash laughed. "So you want me to do your ass next?" Breath caught.

A sink turns off. Door opens. Green spikes of hair—hoodie—shorts—walking barefoot into the living room.

"Oh," he coughed, "Hey there Twilight—glad to see you finally up!" He stopped. "Did something happen?"

Twilight tried to pull her leg away, but Rainbow's grip—"Oh, this is nothing; don't worry." Pause. "I just hurt myself a bit; Rainbow Dash is just overre—"

"Fell down the stairs. Totally whipped her butt."

"Oh, man!" Spike rushed over. "You okay, Twilight?"

"No really Spike, I'm fine; it's nothing. Dash, really I think I'm fine now." Dash worked a bit more then let go. She handed Twilight her socks. "...No thanks, I'm good." Dash chuckled.

"Well, I made coffee for Rainbow Dash while we were waiting; you want some, Twilight?" Indeed, there sat an empty mug without a coaster on the coffee table.

"No, I'm fine. I'll just get some milk for myself later, I think. They're still waiting for us, I think, so we have to get going right about now."

"Right," the two others in unison. Rainbow Dash stood up and stretched her arms. Twilight had sat up and grabbed her socks from the arm of the couch and was pulling them on. Spike had picked up a mug from the lamp stool and was sipping from it.

"I didn't know you drank coffee, Spike."

Dash dropped her arms. "Sure does!" She gave him a nudge while he was mid-sip. He swallowed.

"Um, yeah, I started a couple of weeks ago. I just got used to it, I guess."

"Takes it black like his chicks—am I right?"

Spike coughed a green spark; Twilight snapped, "Ranbow Dash!" She scoffed. "Come on, Spike, go get your shoes."

"Oh, am I coming?" He put down his empty mug.

"Um, I guess I'd just assumed..."

"And we're going over to, uh—"

"Right, like I mentioned earlier."

Dash butted in—"Well he doesn't gotta if he doesn't wanna, right?"

Twilight stammered—"Um—"

"No, it's fine; I kinda do wanna go, actually." He went to take his mug over to the kitchen. Rainbow Dash gave Twilight a wink. Twilight mouthed an annoyed "What?" but Dash just gave a "forget it" gesture.

Twilight started to get up. Dash held a hand to her. Prince. Bare shoulders like epaulettes. Twilight grabbed the hand. Dash pulled her up. Twilight glared. She jerked her head toward the stairs. Dash stared. A loud whisper—"The book, Dash."

"Oh, fine." Dash went over and picked up the giant book, climbed the ladder, then found the empty spot on the bookshelf.

Spike ran back in from the kitchen. "I just gotta get something from upstairs!" He trotted on up and shut the bedroom door. Twilight grabbed her journal from her bag and leaned against a wall. She opened it and found an entry from a few weeks ago:

...I didn't dare tell Dash that those were the novels I had been reading. I haven't told anyone. She asked—trying to seem casual about it—if I had anything "jucier." I showed her to that enormous archive of adult entertainment I'd yet to find a use for. I'd barely cracked it open myself; it always seemed somewhat carnal to me. I prefer my novels. Anyway, since it was late and Spike was asleep, I just told her not to go blabbing about it to everyone nor to let Spike see it. She left it with me anyway; I suspected she was too tired to lug that big thing home with her so late.

Rainbow Dash...of the people I've been finding myself infatuated with, she's the closest one to a guy. She's frank and rough; she's flirtatious; and—from what I saw today—she's a visual person when it comes to sexuality (I read that that's a masculine trait). I've heard the gang speculate that she might even be a lesbian. I always tell them that I myself don't like to speculate. But if she is, it might make things simpler for me, and being with the most masculine girl I know might make the prospect of being with a girl less awkward for me.

Twilight looked up. It looked like Dash had been doing some air-guitar thing while Twilight was reading. Twilight chuckled a bit. "Is that real?"

Dash quickly stopped and looked up—"Huh?"

"Is that a song?"

"Uh, yeah. Not mine. I couldn't remember the chords, though, so I just changed it up a bit...." Twilight couldn't help laughing to herself. Dash chuckled—"What!?"

"Nothing, Rainbow Dash." Twilight said smiling while she replaced her journal in her bag.

Spike came back down from upstairs with his drawstring backpack, and over to the front door to pull on his socks and sneakers. Twilight followed him there to slip into her loafers. Dash had started some leg stretches behind them. Twilight looked down at Spike, who had just pulled on his drawstring backpack, looking as if he was ready. She bent down and straightened his socks while he grumbled.

"Well," Rainbow Dash grunted, "I think I'm gonna go ahead and get a head start and let them all know you're on your way." She sprung over to the door and let herself out. She turned to them and gave a curtsy—"I shall await your arrival, milady."

Heart—

Spike stopped tying his shoe and waved—"See ya, Rainbow Dash!"

Dash waved back and jogged off—"See ya, slowpokes!" She shrunk into the distance and disappeared around a corner in a flurry of color.

Twilight hoisted up her bookbag. She sighed. "Ready?"

"Yup!" Spike started out ahead of her. Twilight stood for a second, then dragged herself out.

3

Pebbles cast long shadows like knives on the gravel road to the square. His sneakers, then her loafers kicked them aside as they went down. Twilight reached into her bookbag and pulled out her journal, opening it again to the red bookmark. The one sentence in violet ink. She turned back some pages.

Today, I had the closest thing to what I could call...

She turned back some more. Spike had noticed. "What's that for, Twilight?"

"Oh," she swallowed, "it's just for that report I have to do for Monday."

"Oh, okay. You started that a few weeks ago though, didn't you?"

"Well, it is rather lengthy piece of research."

"I'll bet." He was looking down at his feet as he walked. Anything else to say? Guess not. Twilight went back to her journal. One of the first entries, from a couple of months ago:

I'm just about to sent a letter to my mentor. I've written it down verbatim here:

Dear Princess Celestia,

I hope you've been well this past month. I remember you telling me the last time we met that if I had any questions about anything or if I needed some advice, I could ask you. Well, some things have come up lately, and I've been thinking about them. Anyway, I don't feel as if I should get too specific, but I was wondering what you could tell me about romance. I feel odd asking about this, but again, I've been thinking about it these past few months, and it's not something my books will help me with, so I decided I should ask advice of someone who knows me somewhat well. Furthermore—and I hope I'm not being too presumptuous—I would assume that you've had lifetimes of experience with romance compared to myself. I know you're quite busy right now, but I'd be delighted if you could get back to me soon and tell me what you know.

Your faithful student,

Twilight Sparkle

I've just sent it now. I hope that she isn't bothered with the forwardness of the question, that I'm interrupting her work, or that she doesn't think I'm being too nosy. Perhaps I'm worrying too much, though. She's been there for me for most of my life, and has always been happy to share her wisdom.

They walked out into the bustling town square.

The red lightfire—that burning planet cast rays of daggers over the town roofs. The white-hot aura—magnetic repulsion to the eyes—acid to the skin—ice to the knees. People scurried to and fro about the streets, going to do their things. Dinner plans with friends; plans alone; shopping; romance. These were the people of the day, the chosen of the sun. They only felt loved by the one star that our world, by chance, hung the closest to. They in turn feared the cool darkness of the stars—to stare into the Multitude. They feared the sun might leave them, that it might rest from its terrible rule to close its flaming eye and sleep for yet another night. Indeed, the sun had had its day, but it can't just leave quietly. The sun rises; it calls out these marionettes to dance in the day—and cruelly, it is the brightest and the hottest just before it at last sleeps.

Blind—eyes covered—a southern accent—"Guess who~!"

Squishy pillows pressed against her back—sugary scents swirled—Twilight laughed—"C'mon Pinkie, you can't fool me!"

The white hands peeled away. Her regular girly voice—"Aw, dang it!" Pinkie bounded around to meet them. Thick pink curls upon floury skin. Yellow dress; pink skirt; bounce. "But you totally didn't see me coming, though!"

"Ha, I guess not!"

Spike waved a hand. "Hey, Pinkie Pie!"

Pinkie dropped her pitch, "Yo, Spike mah man!" They gave each other tough-guy nods.

Twilight finished laughing, bookmarking the black journal and shutting it. "So what's up?"

"Oh, nothin'. Just saw you guys out here; decided to sneak up on you, but it looks like I suck." She giggled. "Y'all on your way to—"

"Yep. Just now."

"Neato! I was down there earlier today."

"Yeah, Rainbow Dash just came to get us."

Spike smiled, looking away—"Yeah, she was asleep all day."

"Not all day!"

Pinkie butted in—"Yeah, I just saw Dashie come running through here earlier; she told me all 'bout it."

"...All about it...?"

"Anyway, yeah, I was down there today, and she's all running around the place trying to get her work all finished for tomorrow and stuff—and she's all like—like...aw, never mind; I won't try to do the accent. Ha, I think you made me feel all bad about my impersonations now."

Twilight cocked her head with a chuckle. "Aw, don't feel bad...."

"Oh, I don't!" She jumped over to Twilight and hugged an arm around her. "It's not your fault you could sense me coming. I've suspected it for so long. There's something here, Twilight. We have some sort of connection. It's psychic. I think the universe wants us to be together. It must be," she whispered, "destiny...."

Fat breasts squeezing.

"Or maybe it's the smell of the cookies I've been baking all day."

Twilight blinked. "Uh—"

Spike poked his head from out behind her. "Cookies?"

Pinkie let go of Twilight. "Yup! For tomorrow. What could be a better occasion for sweets than a day of hiking and exercise?"

Twilight chucked. "Ha, I guess."

"Don't y'all worry though; I'm making some sammiches too! Also, yeah, I saw her today, and I think she said she was gonna try to bring cider."

"Not the hard cider, I assume. 'Cause Spike is coming with us."

"Nah, not this time, I don't think. But c'mon! It's not like Spike can't have little fun with us, is it?"

Twilight and Spike looked at each other, stammering.

"Aw, crap! I've kept y'all here too long! You two gotta get going! Here," she started her way through the town square, "I'll walk you guys half the way, but then I gotta get back to baking!" She hummed with a skip in her step and a bounce on her chest. Twilight put her journal back in her back, and she and Spike followed her.

The bloody sundisk had sunk below a mountain of cloud in the west. The clouds glowed. Sparkling pillows—a floating ocean—mammatus—rose adorned with crown of gold. The sky blushed.

Pinkie's hummed an expectant dominant harmony, but trailed off as she had forgotten the rest of the tune. In rhythm breasts bass-drum-bounced beneath stretching and tousling fabric.

"So, um, Pinkie, do you think you might, um, be free later tonight? 'Cause—"

"Oh, I'd love to hang out, Twilight! But I dunno. Gotta finish the cookies, make sure I packed everything, help close up shop, then I wanna get to bed early so I can be all pumped tomorrow morning! Also I'll need time for a shower tomorrow."

Soaked, matted pink curls—shampoo trickling through folds of skin—wet clay of Willendorf.

"So Twilight, did you finally do your shopping?"

"Um, yeah, I did that early this morning."

"Well it took you long enough! You've had weeks now!"

"C'mon Pinkie—"

"Spike, did she drag you along with her?"

"Um, yeah," Spike reached for his backpack, "but she let me pick some stuff out too." He opened it for Pinkie.

Twilight tried to butt in—"Pinkie—"

"Whatever, Twilight—Oooo, Spike, you gonna impress some lucky gal?"

Spike pulled his backpack shut. "Uh..."

Twilight found an opening—"Pinkie, Pinkie, Pinkie, come on, you know I've been busy!"

"Oh yeah, with the report. How's that goin'?"

"Pretty well, I think. Should be done this weekend with time to spare."

"Awesome! Then maybe you can get that ol' knucklehead outta those books and stop blowing us off!"

"I haven't been blowing you off!"

"Twilight. Come on. You know you have." Her deadpan face broke into a giggle.

Twilight couldn't help but laugh either. "But does everyone else say that?"

"Well," she put a finger to her lip, "from the careful data I've been collecting over the past day and the meticulous analysis I've been performing over the past few minutes, I've concluded that I feel like you've been blowing me off."

Twilight laughed harder. "Pinkie!"

"Oh, but c'mon! You see Rainbow Dash, like, all the time! And, and—"

"Wait—"

"Yeah, like every day! And you—"

"Wait, Pinkie, she comes to see me! I always tell her I'm busy—"

"Then you saw Fluttershy that one day—"

"Wait, how do you—"

"and like—"

"Pinkie, that was, like, one time for, like, ten minutes—!"

"And I guess you hardly ever see—"

"And we were both on a break!"

"Twilight, why don't I ever see you anymore!?" She made her lower lip quiver.

"Oh, come on—Pinkie..."

Quiver.

Twilight laughed. "Pinkie, come on—"

Quiver.

"Pinkie Pie—"

Quiver.

"Okay, okay, look: we'll do something this Monday—whatever you want! Promise! I'll even come over to your place!"

Pinkie beamed—"Ya~y!" She gave Twilight a big side-hug while still trying to walk, letting go after a couple of giggling stumbles.

"But it might be a bit later in the day; I might end up working late on Sunday and need a bit more sleep."

Spike poked out a concerned head—"You said you'd be finish—"

"Spike, you should join us too!" Twilight had turned to him, "You haven't really seen much of people this week!"

Twilight had been tapping her leg in a steady rhythm.

Pap, pap, pap, pap—

Spike stammered—"I mean...but—"

Pinkie turned to him in turn—"Yeah, Spike, what's up with that? Twilight bringin' ya down?"

"I mean, I'll come too! Y'know, I guess."

"Yippee! Then it's a date!"

Bounce. Blush.

Twilight was still tapping her leg.

Pap, pap, pap, pap—

Without a word, Pinkie joined in, patting her chubby belly in upbeat syncopations:

ta-pa Tap—pa-tap—

...ta-pa Tap—pa-tap, ta-pa Ta-pap, pap, ta-pap tipiTap—

Twilight looked at Pinkie Pie who nodded and grinned at her. Twilight smiled and kept the beat going.

Pap, pap, pap, pap—

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Did I miss something?"

Pinkie spiced it up:

...pa-tap, ta-pa Tap—pa-Ta-Ta-Ta—

...tap—pa-ta-pa Tap—pa-tap, ta-pa Ta-pap, pap, ta-pap tikitiki Tap—

Spike chuckled—"Um, guys?"

Pap, pap, pap—p-pap—p-

Twilight lost her beat—the rhythm fell apart in a clattering mess. Pinkie Pie doubled over laughing, cupping the folds of her jiggling belly.

Twilight smiled at Pinkie then sighed. Damn it, Spike...

"C'mon, guys, what'd I miss?"

Pinkie finished laughing, then she and Twilight looked at each other.

Twilight thought. "Um...it's kinda hard to explain...."

"So Twilight was over at my place reading, and she started tapping her book—she was all, duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-duh—

"No, but it was because the timer—"

"Oh yeah! We were baking something, and I had an egg timer on, and Twilight started tapping to it—"

"Right, right—no, but there were—you had two on—"

"Yeah, yeah—we had the two egg timers on—"

"—and they were in phase for some reason—"

"—like how they were going back in forth—"

"Yeah they were alternating—"

"They were like, duh-DUH-duh-DUH-duh-DUH-duh-DUH—"

"—and I dunno, I was just tapping along with it—then it sorta turned into a thing—"

"Yeah, where I would, like, tap the other beat, and she would tap the first one—"

"—and we'd just alternate—"

"—then, yeah! It sorta turned into a thing—"

"—we just kept finding opportunities to build on it—" They looked at each other again and started laughing. "I dunno, Spike, it's just one of those 'you had to be there" things, I guess."

Spike had just been staring at them. "Um, okay..."

"Aw, c'mon Twilight, don't say it like that! We could get him in on this too!"

Twilight's face went blank. "Uh..."

Pinkie snapped a finger in Twilight's face and took a serious tone—"Twilight. Seriously. Ya gotta share. Come on."

Twilight stumbled, then smiled. "Um...sure! Why not?"

Pinkie's tough-guy voice—"Yuss!" She giggled.

"Oh, wait, Pinkie, didn't you have cookies on?"

Pinkie blinked. "Craap~!" She started back to Sugar Cube Corner then yelled back—"Hey, tell ya what—I'll meet up with y'all in a bit! I'll pick up some shakes for you guys!"

"Oh, you don't have t—! Whatever—thanks, Pinkie Pie!"

Spike waved—"Thanks, Pinkie!"

Pinkie ran through town waving—"See you guys later!"

She's still waiting for us.

Spike pulled Twilight's arm. "C'mon, Twilight. She's still waiting for us."

Twilight turned back to the road and followed Spike.

4

The sun had settled behind the landscape beyond town. The sky was illuminated with a golden blue, and the cool of evening was ready to settle upon the world. The noise of the bustling townspeople had become a wash of pale white noise, hanging in a still cloud above them.

She retrieved her journal from her bag and opened up back to her bookmark. She flipped back to a page close to the beginning, from about a month ago. The handwriting was considerably neater.

I thought I'd write about one of the incidents I mentioned in my first entry—one that helped prompt me to start writing this in the first place.

My friend Applejack's family owns an apple farm, and when I have a bit of free time, I occasionally visit her when she works on it, to help with inventory, to give her moral support, or just to chat or give her an excuse to take a break from work.

A few months back was the harvest season at the farm—what the Apple family calls Applebuck season. I had been stopping by that week to offer my help in the harvest, but she always politely denied it. I've seen her deny help in a less graceful manner, but this time, she was herself. When she is herself, Applejack treats me like royalty. Mistakes are never my fault; I never have obligations; I am never there for her sake; she is there for mine. The way she treats me feels undeserved. At first, it makes me feel uncomfortable, but at times I get this heady, liberating feeling.

On one particular day of the harvest, I sat with her on a hill at her farm, while she finished loading a barrel of apples. I had brought some reading material in preparation for a report on comets and meteors. It was late afternoon. At one point, she had finished up her work on the one barrel. She had worked up a fair sweat by that point. I looked up at her and smiled, asking if she was done. She said just for a bit. I said "good for you," and went back to my reading for a second. Then she made a little fuss over letting me know that she'd only be taking a little break, and would get back to work shortly. I think I laughed to myself. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her walk over to the edge of the hill and look out over the orchard. She said something about how hot she had gotten working. She started whistling what sounded like some folk song. I can't remember it, but it was a nice tune. A moment later I looked up from my reading, and to my complete astonishment, saw that she had taken off her plaid button-up shirt. She hadn't been wearing a bra underneath. She simply stood there stretching, her tanned, freckled shoulders wrapped in white tanlines. She just wore some denim shorts, and I noticed her huge, powerful legs. My breath caught. I couldn't say anything. Then I just started stammering. She stopped singing and turned around, curious. She casually bore her naked white breasts.

It was the first time I had ever seen any of my friends naked. Well, I suppose she wasn't entirely naked. I've seen Applejack's brother, Big Macintosh, shirtless before, and while it is an enticing sight, I've never thought of it as nudity. I understand that it's an obvious double-standard to which I and all other women are unfortunately victim. It's acceptable for Big Macintosh to be shirtless, but not his sister. Furthermore, I've been sheltered. I've never been exposed to live nudity apart from my own in my life growing up in Canterlot, and while Ponyville is significantly more laid-back than Canterlot, I'm still not exposed to live nudity here. I used to bathe and occasionally take baths with Spike, but he's a child, and I was a child back then too.

Twilight looked up. Spike had his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground as they walked. They had left the town square, but they weren't nearly there yet.

I was also surprised that it was Applejack whom I had this first encounter with. I'd think that someone like Pinkie Pie would be the one to get too comfortable at some point, and let loose of her clothing. I've seen her go without a bra before, especially at times like slumber parties at my house.

At any rate, Applejack looked at me, confused, as I kept stammering, expecting it to be obvious to her. After some gesturing, she finally got it. She went over to get her shirt, bending over to show off her enormous thighs, and apologizing—as always, sincerely. "I didn't realize it would bother y'all," she told me. I replied, "It's not that it bothers me, it's just..." It didn't bother me. The sight of her, anyway. She was rather...lovely. I don't have the poetic craft to describe it. She had turned around and started putting her shirt back on. "You don't have to say nothing, Twilight," she said, "I don't mind at all." I couldn't think of anything to say by that point. "It's just that the ol' Apple family isn't too afraid of lettin' loose and showin' some skin. But if it makes y'all uncomfortable or if y'all don' wanna talk about it, it's fine by me." I thought about her little sister Apple Bloom, picturing her in her little overalls and a big bow in her red hair, then her hanging out naked with the rest of the Apple family. I said something about her, and exposing that sort of thing to her. Applejack responded, saying, "We never saw nothin' wrong with her seein' the way her brother and sister was born! And I think it might even make her feel better about herself. Less insecure an' all." I couldn't think of a comeback at the time. What she said made some sense. I still felt strange about it, though.

Twilight and Spike turned a corner.

But, had this happened a year before, I don't think I would have felt nearly as uncomfortable. Back when the one I was looking for was some sort of Prince Charming—back when I thought I knew what I was looking for. Then I started to notice girls. Now, I look at Applejack's body not just as my friend's, but that of someone with whom I could live intimately, and love.

As she finished buttoning up her shirt, I was saddened by the fact that I might never see her nude body ever again. There wouldn't ever be a situation in which I would. Or perhaps there would.... Perhaps all I need to do is ask her. It would need context, of course; I couldn't simply ask to see her undressed out of the blue. I could reveal my feelings to her. Maybe, if she or the both of us were a bit tipsy on cider. Or perhaps I could casually undress myself when we're outside together again, and see if she follows. She is rarely ever the type to outright object to something or someone—especially me. She makes me feel like I could make her do whatever I wanted. I could tell her to undress again, and she would. I could tell her to do the most perverted things I could imagine, and she would. I could whisper my deepest feelings into her ear, and she would reciprocate, truthfully. But...to what end? Then what?

Then again, perhaps she wouldn't obey me. Perhaps I don't know her well enough, and I'm projecting my own feelings. Perhaps she would reject me. Perhaps we'd never speak again, and I'd regret ever loving a woman for the rest of my life.

And so here I stand in the middle of these two possibilities. She could say "yes," and I would be faced with the myriad of possibilities in the freedom of choosing what I want from her. Or she could say "no," and I would be faced with one of the myriad of possible ways in which she could reject me. And I have no way of knowing whether she would say "yes" or "no."

They turned again and began on the path to her place.

By this point, I was feeling terrified. Could I stand to ever be near Applejack again? With me stuck in between these two possibilities. Or she me? Did I make her more uncomfortable than she made me with my fussing? Did she guess why I was uncomfortable?

Then she came by and sat next to me. Not too close. Her thighs squished together. She told me not to worry, as she wouldn't ask me what was wrong. I told her it was nothing; I was just caught off guard. She said it was her fault for not making sure it was okay with me, and that she wouldn't do it again. She paused for a bit, then laughed and said, "Well I bet y'all ain't never been skinny dippin' before." I chuckled and said "no." She told me it was no pressure, but recommended it to me. She said there was a lake near the orchard in which I could try it, and she'd make sure I had privacy if I'd like. I told her it sounded interesting. It did indeed sound interesting. I've never had the courage to take her up on the offer though.

Then we stood up and she gave me a big Applejack hug and apologized again. She remarked that it was a good thing this happened with me rather than with Fluttershy, for example, as there would be no telling how she might react. We laughed and joked about it for a bit. Then she asked me if I wanted to head home. I thought about it for a second. Then I told her I felt fine, and that I'd stay with her until she finished working for the day. She asked me if I was sure, and I assured her I was fine. I stayed with her reading for the rest of the afternoon, then I had dinner with her family, and I went home.

Now, thinking about it, I long for that Applebuck season to come again. Spending time with Applejack would be another way for me to avoid seeing her.

Twilight and Spike walked on a path lined with flower gardens, up to the door of Carousel Boutique—the home and workplace of her friend Rarity. A palace adorned with violet and gold. Twilight stared into the diamond-shaped window in the blue-painted door before her. It was too dark and distorted to see inside. She rose a hand to knock. Tremors. She looked over at Spike. He had fetched a clip-on bow tie from his backpack, and was busy fastening it on to the collar of his hoodie. Twilight wouldn't be bothered to help him.