Lyra and Bon Bon visit Wales

by Admiral Biscuit

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Human, Lyra, Comedy, Bon-Bon, Other, Sex
Length: 16667

Twilight Sparkle's research into the mirror portal has presented Lyra with a rare opportunity to study humans in their natural habitat.

After researching the Mirror Portal, Twilight has discovered countless other worlds and a simple spell to get ponies there. She offers Lyra the chance to visit a new nation called Wales. Can she and Bon Bon blend in for an entire day?

Tagged 'sex' for human and pony anatomy. There may be spoilers in the comments.

Published 2014-03-24 02:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-22 00:26:48 UTC

Sunday

Lyra and Bon Bon Visit Wales
Admiral Biscuit

“Oh come on, Bons. It’ll be fun.”

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. Lyra’s ideas of ‘fun’ were often anything but, and this idea—not that she’d been paying full attention—seemed a real doozy. Sundays were for sleeping in and lazing around the house, not haring around Celestia-knows-where with some crazy new spell Princess Twilight Sparkle had come up with.

“Tell me again about how this is more fun than snuggling under the covers until ten, eating a late breakfast, and then looking at the dust-bunnies under the couch, deciding to ignore them, and reading a good book instead?” She tugged the oven door open and slid a baking-sheet full of confections into the oven, before turning to glare at her housemate.

“We can do that any Sunday,” Lyra replied. “This is a . . . well, not once-in-a-lifetime chance, but it’s not something that comes along too often.”

“And Twilight offered it to you why?” Bon Bon stepped on the bellows a little too hard, before willing herself back under control.

“‘Cause she’s gotta do some kind of . . . princess stuff. Plus, she knew I might be interested. You know, because of. . . .”

“Yes, your strange obsession with humans. I know, I know.”

“It’s not like that,” Lyra said. “Well, okay, it is like that. But Twilight already visited one human world, and it turns out that there’s dozens—maybe hundreds—more. Why shouldn’t I get to visit one? Why shouldn’t everypony visit one?”

“First, because I’d rather spend Sunday at home,” Bon Bon muttered. “Doing the same thing I do every Sunday. I like a routine.” She began scrubbing the dregs of a chocolate fondue out of a pot. “If I wanted impulsive, I’d’ve moved in with Pinkie Pie.”

“Who was the impulsive one last Sunday?”

Bon Bon’s face colored. “That was different! That was—” She turned to face Lyra. “—well, okay. That was pretty impulsive. I bet you didn’t know you could bend that way.”

“So, come on! Say you’ll do this for me.”

Bon Bon sighed. “Are you making puppy-dog eyes at me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, fine. It’s just one day, right? And it’s perfectly safe?”

Lyra nodded. “Just one day, and Princess Twilight herself assured me that there was no possible way the spell could malfunction. She improved the mirror portal spell—she adjusted the thaumic properties and chronological-delay of the layered components in order to—”

“By carefully controlling the acidity, the reaction rate can be adjusted. . . .” Bon Bon began.

Lyra rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine. Simple explanation, the spell now allows us a little time to practice before we get to the human world. Twilight said that adapting to a new form took a bit—you know, on top of everything else—and may have marked her as an outsider, if she was witnessed.”

Bon Bon nodded absently and set the pan on the drying rack. “And when, precisely, are you planning on doing this?”

“Tomorrow!” Lyra squealed. “Isn’t that exciting?”

“Impulsive,” Bon Bon muttered. “Crazy and impulsive.” She gave Lyra a quick peck on the cheek.

The sun had barely cracked the horizon when an insistent hoof-prodding finally roused Bon Bon. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes before blearily focusing on the maniac face of her marefriend. “So, are you ready?”

Bon Bon looked over at the clock. “It’s six a.m. Six in the bloody a.m. On a Sunday. I’m not ready for anything yet.” She rolled towards the wall and pulled the covers over her head.

Lyra’s face fell. “But we only get one day! And it’s already passing! We . . . we could be there by now!”

Getting no response from Bon Bon, Lyra went around to the foot of the bed and stuck her head under the comforter. With a bit of wriggling, she wormed her way upwards, then stuck her nose into a very sensitive part of Bon Bon’s anatomy.

“Gah!” Bon Bon pushed the covers down. “Did you stick your muzzle in ice? I swear, sometimes you’re as bad as a foal on Hearth’s Warming. All right, all right, I’m up. You can stop now.” She lifted the comforter and glared down at Lyra. “Really, you could have gone to sleep sooner.”

“I thought you liked—”

“I’m not complaining, I’m just saying.” Bon Bon stretched and slid out of bed. This was the worst part of a morning, in her opinion. Her stomach was empty and her bladder full, and the warmth of the bed was replaced by the chill morning air. Any possibility of a quick roll in the hay was gone the moment her hooves touched the floor. She shuffled off to the bathroom to perform her morning ablutions.

“Don’t worry too much about grooming,” Lyra called after her. “The spell’s gonna change most everything, so don’t waste your time.”

“Okay,” Bon Bon called.

“I made breakfast.” Lyra looked towards the kitchen, where a faint haze could still be seen drifting along the ceiling. “It’s . . . cereal and milk.”

Bon Bon flushed the toilet and regarded herself in the mirror. “Weren’t you planning to make pancakes?” She poked at her mane—spell or no, she was going to brush out some of the tangles, and maybe a quick shower.

“Uh . . . there wasn’t enough flour?”

“There’s a new bag in the pantry, you know.”

“Not anymore,” Lyra muttered, shoving the empty bag deeper in the trash can. “Too late, I already poured the milk,” she called up the stairs.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes, before a small smile crossed her lips. Lyra was a terrible cook—all unicorns seemed to be—and she could smell the faint acrid odor of smoke. No doubt the ex-pancakes were charred pucks on the cast-iron pan. She’d told Lyra, again and again, that making the stove hotter didn’t cook the food faster . . . but it was nice of her to try. Especially since she’d failed so many times. “I wasn’t in the mood for pancakes anyway,” she lied. “Cereal’s fine.” She shook her head, making sure her curls settled just right. Lyra had an easy enough time in the morning; her windblown look came about naturally. Bon Bon wasn’t so lucky; her mane turned into a rat’s nest every night.

Bon Bon wiped her face with a washcloth, the cold water finally jerking her into a state of awareness. It felt weird to be skipping a shower, but it was a Sunday, so that was all right. She glanced in the mirror one more time, making sure that she was reasonably well-composed, and trotted down the stairs.

As she munched on her soggy cereal, Lyra briefed her on the days’ events.

“So, first, the spell’s going to make us look like natives,” Lyra said enthusiastically. “That means bipedal, with arms and hands and legs and feet and stuff.” She paused to bite a piece of toast. “And it’ll make us speak the local language, too. But it doesn’t always translate the idioms right, so we’ve got to watch for that.”

“Idioms?”

“Yeah, that’s like when you say one thing but mean another. Like, I don’t know. ‘A watched pot never boils,’ that’s an idiom. I think. Anyway, that shouldn’t really be a problem. We’ll have a bit of time to adapt to our new bodies before the spell sends us where we’re going. It’s—” She squinted at the scroll. “—ah, called Gwynedd. We’re going to a beach there, ‘cause that seemed like a fun thing to do on a Sunday. Just relax on the sand, maybe play in the water some if we can swim. I’m pretty sure bipeds can swim. I think Twilight said she saw Spike swim in lava once, so bipeds can probably swim. Or at least wade. And, it’s a good way to just observe people without . . . um—”

“Being in a social situation?” Bon Bon suggested.

“Yes! Being in a social situation. All we have to do is lay on a blanket and watch. If we want to interact with the locals, we can. If not, we can just relax, and watch them. It’ll be pretty much like sleeping in. In fact, if my research is right, somepeople just like to laze around on the beach.”

“Somepeople?”

“That’s what they say. Instead of ‘somepony.’ They call themselves ‘people,’ but I don’t know why.”

“I suppose it’s too much to expect logic from a species with a place named ‘Gwynedd,’” Bon Bon mumbled.

“Well, they have funny people-puns for the names of their places,” Lyra said. “Gwynedd is part of Wales.”

“Whales? That’s a dumb name.”

“It’s on the ocean,” Lyra explained. “So, the name makes sense. Kind of. See, they divide up regions like we do, so Wales is part of the United Kingdom—they call it that because everypeople there lives in harmony—and Gwynedd is part of Wales.” She looked down at the scroll. “The beach has a name, too. Where was it? Well, I’ll find it later. Are you done with breakfast?”

Bon Bon nodded. She picked up her bowl and took it over to the sink, then turned on the water.

“You don’t have to wash it now,” Lyra protested. “It’ll be there when you get back.”

“I hate a messy kitchen,” Bon Bon reminded her. “It won’t take long to wash the breakfast dishes and maybe sweep the floor—”

“I’ll do it when we get back! All of it!”

“All of it?” Bon Bon’s eyes narrowed. “While wearing a Prench maid’s outfit?”

“Ah—” Lyra looked around the kitchen as if somepony would spring to her aid. When nopony came, she sighed. “All of it. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

“In my Prench maid’s outfit,” Bon Bon reminded her.

“Yes, in your Prench maid’s outfit.”

Bon Bon grinned and shut off the water. “Okay. Bring it on.”

She’d been magicked by Lyra more times than she could count. The first time had been weird—it was back when Lyra was still doing dueling, and she’d been practicing offensive spells. Since then, their relationship had moved far beyond that, to the point that Bon Bon had become almost blase to being the target of a spell. Instinctively, she knew that there were unicorn spells which could do all kinds of horrible things to her, but she knew that Lyra wouldn’t cast such a spell. Yet, the thought that she could was always thrilling.

For all that, this spell felt different. From the very moment she felt the first tendrils of magical possibilities twining over her body, to the familiar glow of Lyra’s horn, there was a subtle difference in the field, and Bon Bon had time to suck one breath over her teeth before the aura spun around her, and then she was in the strange not-space where the magic lived.

Princess Twilight says it’s safe, she thought, but she also remembered fighting Big Mac for a stupid doll (and that memory was locked away in a special place in her mind, where it was only examined when Lyra was not around . . . he’d had her tail in his mouth and sometimes she wondered what he might have done next to get the doll) because occasionally Twilight went off the deep end, Celestia’s favorite student or not. Still, Lyra had undoubtedly reviewed the spell for safety.

A moment later, she was sprawled across the floor, her whole body reporting that something was wrong. As much as it pained her to admit it, this was not an unusual feeling; some of Lyra’s more . . . creative spells had had that effect on her.

She blinked, trying to get the dancing lights out of her vision. She had the feeling that something was profoundly different, more so than anything she’d ever felt before. Her joints and muscles felt weird, like after a day spent in bed, or drinking a whole bottle of Berry Punch’s plum brandy.

Lyra was also stretched across the floor, and she didn’t look right at all. Even though the bright motes darting across her vision, she could already see that her marefriend no longer bore the beautiful seafoam coat nor windblown mane that she’d had a moment ago; instead, she’d turned an ugly tannish color, her head topped with a messy mop of straw-blonde hair. More disturbingly, her horn appeared to have gone missing.

Bon Bon glanced down at her own forelegs, stretched out in front of her. They had been replaced by pale sticks, ending in some kind of weird talon. She flexed her new digits experimentally. It was like she had five hooves on the end of each leg, all working separately. That was freaky.

She clenched them together and got her legs moved around under herself, ignoring the nagging warnings from her brain that things were not right at all. She’d had that feeling before, and it was best to just tell her brain to shut up. This magic would pass, sooner or later, and she’d be back to normal; right now, the key was to not think too hard and everything would work like it was supposed to.

She finally got to her not-hooves, and decided that having a moment to sit and take stock of the situation would be the best idea. She dropped to her rump, causing more strange new sensations to assault her mind. Bon Bon glanced back, noticing that her tail had gone missing. So that’s why Lyra said not to spend too much time in the bathroom grooming, she thought. Unbidden, her eyes rolled upward, and instead of the normal curls of bubblegum mane at the very top of her vision, boring brown bangs greeted her. A second later, her missing muzzle registered; it had been replaced by an ugly beak. She crossed her eyes, trying to get a better look at it.

I think I should probably scream now, her brain advised. Ignoring it, she looked over at her marefriend for support. For the first time, she actually noticed Lyra; the unicorn had been transformed into a lanky tan blob with curves in all the wrong places.

“Lyra,” she croaked.

The blob nodded. She was getting to her not-hooves, too.

“The Prench maid outfit.”

“I know.” Lyra plopped down on her rear and was looking at her new body with a sense of wonder. Bon Bon couldn’t blame her; the new talons were kind of fascinating. “Well, that seems to have worked.”

“If you say so.” Bon Bon lifted a forelimb—arm—and studied it. “Where in Tartarus did my coat go?”

“They don’t have coats,” Lyra informed her. “Or tails. Or horns.” She crossed her eyes and looked up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“It’s only a day, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I can do this.” Bon Bon looked down at her new talons. “What do you call these?” She wiggled the digits.

“Hands, Bons. They’re called hands.”

“Oh yeah. You mentioned those already.” She watched with an amused smile on her face as Lyra struggled to her feet. The former unicorn wasn’t completely fur-less; sparse, barely-visible hair covered her arms and legs, with thick coarse patches on her groin and under her arms. At least Lyra still has her cutie mark. If that had been missing, Bon Bon probably would have screamed.

Bon Bon looked down at her hip, pleased to see that her three treats were still present, and then her eyes focused on a pair of mounds across her ribcage. With a frown, she took the right one in her hand and bounced it up and down slightly before glaring at Lyra, who had a much smaller pair. The small, rosy nipple at the peak of each made it obvious what they were, but why in Equestria were hers so big?

“Lyra?”

“Yes?”

“Why does it look like I’m about to drop a foal?” She bounced her breast absently, grimacing at the strange sensation. “If this spell made me pregnant, I'm going to murder Twilight. How am I supposed to move around with these things jiggling all the time?”

“Uh, well, Twilight said that the mammary glands were up on the chest of people, instead of by the hind legs, and said that they called them ‘boobs.’ She said that’s normal.”

“Yours are normal; mine look more like udders.”

“They come in different sizes, I guess.” Lyra looked down at her own chest, grabbing one of her own breasts and examining it before looking back up at Bon Bon. “I think they’re supposed to be more attractive if they’re bigger.” She stumbled over to Bon Bon and examined her chest critically. The former earth pony glared at her.

“Attractive to a cow, maybe.” Bon Bon let her hand fall, frowning as her breast swayed back and forth before coming to a stop. “I’ll be happy when these things are gone and my coat’s back. It’s too cold to be bare-skinned.”

“I can get a blanket,” Lyra offered. “Oh! There’s one with the picnic stuff! I’d better grab that; we could be transported any time now. You ought to try stand up; that’s how people get around.”

Bon Bon nodded and struggled to her feet. Her new body seemed to work pretty well in an upright position, but she kept trying to move her tail for balance, and it wasn’t there at all. That was almost as disconcerting as her lack of hooves.

Lyra draped a plaid blanket over her shoulders, and Bon Bon clutched it closed with one of her new hands. She looked down at it gripping the rough fabric—that was one useful thing she could do with hands, at least.

The wool felt scratchy on her skin, yet oddly pleasurable. She rolled her shoulders around, feeling the fabric slip across her back and rump. Lyra was right; the blanket was quickly warming her up, but she shouldn’t have needed it—it wasn’t all that cold.

She watched as Lyra puttered around the room, stuffing more food into the picnic basket. Her marefriend got to her hands and knees and reached under the counter, clinking bottles together as she tried to find a suitable beverage for their beach trip. Seeing her bare backside wiggling around, Bon Bon had to suppress an urge to slap her ass to get her back for the cold-muzzle-under-the-tail this morning, but it would have been too much effort to stumble across the room; she instead settled on simply enjoying the view—at least that part of their new anatomy had stayed basically the same. Finally, Lyra emerged, clutching a magnum of white wine. “I knew this was still down here,” she mumbled, scooting back far enough that she could stand without banging her head on the counter.

“You could have packed that last night,” Bon Bon told her. “Since the spell could take us to Whales at any time.”

“I meant to,” Lyra said. “But I just got to reading some of Twilight’s notes on the world where she went, and what the customs where, how we’d fit in, and all that. There was one more thing Twilight said we should know.” She absently scratched her bare belly, derailing her train of thought. “Oh, that’s nice. Try scratching yourself with your own hands.”

Bon Bon reached under the blanket and ran her new fingers lightly across her side. “It’s kind of like being gently bitten,” she said. “I like it. Maybe this new form isn’t so bad.”

“I’ve got food, and Bon Bon’s wearing the blanket,” Lyra muttered to herself. “I got the wine, but there was something else we’d need in the human world. Something important. Let’s see, we’re going to a beach. . . .”

With a sudden magenta flash, both former ponies vanished from the kitchen of their house.

Author's Note

What could Lyra have forgotten? Stay tuned!

If any of my readers are from Wales or speak Welsh, drop me a line.

Observations

Lyra and Bon Bon Visit Wales
Admiral Biscuit

An instant later, they reappeared at the edge of a steeply sloping dune. Lyra faltered but kept her balance; Bon Bon wasn't so lucky. She instinctively took a step forward, catching the end of the blanket underfoot. She fell gracelessly to the sand, and struggled against the cocooning blanket, much to Lyra's amusement.

"Well, it looks like the spell worked," Lyra announced cheerfully. She carefully set the picnic basket and wine down and reached out a hand to help Bon Bon, who was hampered in her attempt to rise by the blanket.

“I would have been happier not landing face-down in sand,” Bon Bon informed her, before looking over at the swath of marram grass and boardwalk bracketing their landing point. “On the other hoof, I suppose there were worse places to land.”

"Hand," Lyra reminded her. "On the other hand."

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. She pushed herself into a kneeling position, further entangling herself in the blanket. Finally, she cursed under her breath and yanked it off, successfully managing to stand. She reached down and picked up her new nemesis, muttering a few choice words about the fate of blankets that get underhoof.

The sun was behind them, and although the air was still somewhat chilly; the sunlight on her back kept it from being unpleasant. She tossed the blanket over her left shoulder and looked around. The area where they had arrived was largely deserted; they were midway down a path between the dunes. To the west lay the beach and ocean.

Bon Bon looked down at the sandy expanse. She’d once gone to Baltimare and spent a day on the ocean; this looked pretty much the same. Except, of course, there weren’t any ponies, only people.

The sun was well above the horizon, and although the beach was sparsely populated, there were still a few dozen souls down near the water. Nobody was in the water just yet, nor were there—as far as she could observe—any whales.

“How come it’s so much later here?” Bon Bon asked. When they’d left, it hadn’t been any more than an hour past sunrise; here the sun was near its apex.

“Their world and ours aren’t on the same timeline,” Lyra explained. “It might not even be Sunday here.”

“Whatever day it is, some of your ‘people’ are down there. Are you going to meet them?”

Lyra lowered her head.. “Maybe in a little bit. Right now, let’s stay up here and observe for a while. See what their customs are."

“I would have thought you'd be eager to get a look at these people," Bon Bon teased, poking her in the ribs. “Or are you getting cold hooves?”

"Cold hands," Lyra corrected absently. She reached down and picked up the picnic basket. "We've got all day to observe them; I don't want to rush into a situation without observing carefully first, and maybe—" She slapped a hand to her forehead. “Oh, that’s what I forgot!” She rummaged around in the picnic basket. “Damn. I should have brought our camera.”

"You could have packed that while I was sleeping in," Bon Bon chided. "Maybe you should start making lists like Twilight does." She bent down and picked up the wine bottle. “Do you want to stay here, or move closer?”

Lyra considered this carefully. From their spot on the dune, they had a commanding view of the beach, but they were pretty far away from the water—and therefore, the people—and it would be difficult to observe them closely from this distance. Finally she shrugged. “How about we go halfway? We’ll be able to see them better and watch them interact, but still be far enough away that they probably won’t come up to us. Unless they’re very friendly, which would be okay.”

“Sounds good to me. I see a nice sunny spot just over there.” Bon Bon was already warming to the idea of stretching out on the blanket and letting the sun bake her, then splashing around in the waves later to cool back down.

She took a few steps before her foot came down on something sharp. With a yelp, she yanked it back, and glared down at the offending rock. “How do humans handle having such soft feet anyway?”

“I think they normally wear some kind of shoes,” Lyra informed her. “Twilight said when she was in the mirror world she had boots that she wore most of the time.”

Bon Bon looked up and down the beach. There were a few windbreaks set up beside sunbathers, but no shops or stalls selling anything, and a quick glance back at her bare body reminded her that she wasn't wearing her saddlebags, so even if there had been a stand selling shoes, she'd have no way to purchase them.

“Well, I don’t see where we’re going to get some here,” Bon Bon muttered. "You probably should have asked Twilight for more details about the human world before using the spell. Maybe you could have found a way to get shoes that would fit." She sat down on the sand and grabbed her foot, twisting it around so she could check the bottom side for damage. Fortunately, there was none.

She stood and wiped loose sand off her bottom. “I guess that’s one good thing about not having a tail or coat—the sand brushes off easier.”

As the duo continued their trek down the beach, they both made sure to pay attention where they were placing their feet, which slowed their progress considerably. They finally arrived at a good spot, and Bon Bon spread the blanket over the sand before stretching out across it, searching for a comfortable position. Lyra set down the basket and glanced down the beach, eager to observe how the other humans were behaving.

Normally, when resting on a blanket, Bon Bon would have either rolled onto her side or lay on her belly with her legs under her, but neither of those positions were comfortable in her new form. She finally found a tolerable position on her belly, with her legs stretched out behind her and her arms folded under her chin. Lyra watched her struggles with a small smirk on her face.

"My neck's too short," she grumbled. "I can't see what's in front of me. Plus, my boobs are pushing into my ribs. You should be glad you don’t have that problem.”

"You could scoop out pits in the sand,” Lyra suggested. “That might help.”

“I’d lie on my back, but then I couldn’t see what the people are doing.” Bon Bon yawned. “Well, the sun feels nice. Maybe I'll just take a nap.”

“And miss out on the people-watching?” Lyra bopped her in the shoulder. “Whatever. I’m just happy we’re here.” She stretched out on the blanket beside Bon Bon, mimicking her marefriend's posture, and looked up and down the beach. Some of the sunbathers had brought chairs, while others were on their backs or stomachs. Bon Bon was right—it was uncomfortable on the neck. Finally, she spotted a man next to a net on poles who had a more upright position. Lyra sat up and regarded him carefully, before stretching her legs out in front of her, putting her arms behind her back, and leaning onto her palms. “Huh. This actually feels pretty comfortable. I think I could sit like this for a pretty long time. She looked over at Bon Bon, who now had her head down, and smiled. A nap in the sun would be nice, and if she’d been on a beach back in Equestria, that’s exactly what she’d do. But here—here was a chance to observe a whole new species, one she’d been studying since before anypony knew they were real.

She’d always been convinced that the legends were based on something, and while some ponies had believed that they were just misinformed observations of minotaurs or juvenile dragons, Lyra was sure that there was something more. After all, there was no longer any reason to believe that Equestria was the only inhabited planet in the multiverse.

Once Twilight had gone through the mirror to the weird not-Equestria, she’d known that there must be countless other worlds out there, and had begun to pester the librarian to do more research. Unsurprisingly, it hadn’t been all that difficult to convince Twilight to do exactly that, and she’d been able to reverse engineer and improve the spell on the mirror portal, and—well, here they were. They hadn't even had to go to the Crystal Empire; Twilight's improved spell took out the frills, and theoretically they could return every few weeks—as long as Lyra had the strength to cast the spell—although the downside was they couldn't stay long. Not even one full day.

As Bon Bon slept, Lyra kept vigil on the beach, watching how the people interacted with each other, or how they behaved on their own. She began imagining what kind of relationship a pair of humans sharing a blanket might have, or if the slender boy letting the waves wash over him was perhaps the child of the heavyset woman who was watching him from a lounge chair, and she occasionally looked farther out in the ocean in the hopes of seeing a whale.

During a lull in the beach activity, she looked down at her bare stomach. Twilight had mentioned the lack of a coat in the mirror world, but it was one thing to be told about it, and another to feel it. Her skin felt weird under her hand, and she couldn’t discern any reason for why there might be some small patches of hair here and there, while the rest of her skin was tender and nearly bald. Especially since down near the water there was a stallion—no, a man; they were called ‘man’ here—who had a discernable coat of dark hair all over his body.

He was with a woman, and they were walking side-by-side in the damp sand where the waves occasionally reached. The two of them were conversing, although with her new immobile ears, she couldn’t focus well enough to hear what they were saying. They would occasionally wave at other beach-goers, and once the woman moved away from the man and spoke with another female sunbather.

Lyra watched it all with fascination—it was interesting to see how a new species interacted. She pushed off the blanket, shifting her weight forward, and balanced herself upright, her palms lightly resting on the coarse wool. She glanced over at Bon Bon's pale back, and debated with herself for a moment before resting her hand gently between Bon Bon's shoulderblades. She traced her hand across Bon Bon's shoulder and down her right arm before letting it fall back to the blanket.

The wind was picking up a little bit, making the marram grass sway and occasionally blowing sand into her side. Now I know why some of them set up windbreaks, she thought.

She saw the man looking in her direction, and she waved at him. He waved back. We do blend in, Lyra thought. They don’t know we’re from a whole different world! The thought of it sent a rush of adrenaline through her, and she was grinning like a fool.

She leaned over and prodded Bon Bon in the back. “Hey, Bons, wake up!”

“Huh? Whazzat?” Bon Bon turned her head slightly, before rolling onto her side. She struggled for a few seconds before remembering that she wasn't a pony any more, and finally twisted her head so she could see Lyra.

“People wave to each other!” She pointed down the beach.

“You woke me up for that? Ponies wave, too, you know.”

“I know, but doesn’t it seem . . . odd, that we have the same body language?”

“I guess.” Bon Bon rolled over onto her back. “That’s a little more comfortable. Now my boobs are only pulling on my breastbone.” She tilted her head back for an upside-down view of the oceanfront and watched the couple that Lyra had been observing as they made their rounds. “How come he’s got a coat, and I don’t?”

“I don’t know. He seems to be the only one. Maybe coats vary, like boobs." Lyra squinted down at the beach. "I think you have the biggest, though. It's hard to tell from here."

“None of them have cutie marks,” Bon Bon observed. “Well, that mare does, but it’s across her back, right above her butt. I’m not sure what it’s supposed to mean.”

“Women,” Lyra corrected absently. “They’re called ‘women,’ because they have a womb.” She tapped her fist against her leg. “Maybe people don’t usually get cutie marks. Odd, you’d think that would be something Twilight would have mentioned.”

“Maybe Twilight didn’t notice.”

“How could she not? They’re pretty obvious.” Lyra playfully traced her finger across Bon Bon’s hip.

“Tickles,” she groused. “Stop it.”

“I don’t want to ask about cutie marks,” Lyra said quietly. “That would give away that we’re outsiders for sure. I suppose most of the people on the beach could be juveniles; maybe they just don’t have theirs yet. I’m honestly not entirely sure how to tell. What if the full-grown humans are bigger?”

“Why don’t you go ask one how old it is?”

Lyra looked up and down the beach. During the time she’d been observing, there had been a small trickle of people coming down the path onto the beach. Now besides sunbathers and walkers, there were a few dozen playing in the tidal pools on the beach, and several brave souls splashing in the ocean breakers. “Well . . . I’d hate to look a foal. I think I want to watch them just a little bit longer. Now that there are more people, it might be easier to see a pattern.”

“You’re starting to sound like Twilight, Do all unicorns learn to talk like that in magic school?”

“Oh, hush.” Lyra looked over at the picnic basket. “Maybe I’ll have something to eat—just a little snack—and see who looks approachable.” She glanced over at the picnic basket and lowered her head.

Bon Bon snickered. “Forget something?” She tapped a hand against her forehead.

“I . . . oh, that’s right. No horn.” Lyra scooted over towards the basket, reached a hand in, and pulled out a sandwich. “Alfalfa and dandelion. You want one?”

“Sure.”

Lyra handed one over to her, and Bon Bon unwrapped it eagerly. She loved alfalfa and dandelion, and sandwiches were one thing Lyra could prepare, since there was no cooking involved. She bit into the sandwich as Lyra struggled to pour them glasses of wine—like most unicorns, she’d become dependant on her horn for the most mundane tasks, so even with her new dexterous hands, she was still spilling.

The sandwich tasted off, somehow. It wasn’t spoiled, but the alfalfa was tough and nearly flavorless, while the dandelion leaves were bitter. Bon Bon raised it to her nose and took a sniff—it still smelled okay. Should I stop eating it and risk offending Lyra, or just carry on like nothing’s the matter?

She grabbed the glass of wine out of Lyra’s hand and gulped some down. It was sweet—maybe a little too sweet—but it softened the alfalfa and dulled the dandelion. Lyra was struggling with her sandwich as well, and Bon Bon tilted her head towards Lyra’s cup.

The two ate in silence, interrupted only by another beachgoer. He came from the south, skirting the very edge of the dunes, and almost tripped over his own feet when he saw them. Lyra set down her sandwich and waved enthusiastically; he responded with a more subdued greeting. Bon Bon ignored Lyra’s antics, and focused on finishing her sandwich. Even if it didn’t taste very good, she got grumpy when she was hungry.

“Look, he’s putting out his blanket near us,” Lyra commented. “He’s facing us. He’s got a bag . . . he’s reaching into it—”

Bon Bon swallowed. “You sound like Pinkie narrating the Running of the Leaves.”

“It’s interesting! It’s human stuff.” Lyra picked her sandwich back up and took a bite. “He’s got a book,” she mumbled around a mouthful of food. “And he’s reading it.”

Bon Bon glanced over at him, figuring if his attention was taken by a book, he wouldn’t notice her staring. “Harri Potter a Maen yr Athronydd. Sounds like a book about magic.” She wiped some crumbs off her chest. “You know, I think that the spell changed our sense of taste, too—or was it just me?”

“No, it wasn’t just you.” Lyra made a face. “I think you’re right about the sense of taste. I’m not sure how much of the rest of this food is going to be edible. At least the wine still tasted good; I needed it to cleanse my palette.”

“I still don’t see any whales,” Bon Bon mumbled.

“Me, either. Maybe they'll come along later. I don’t really know that much about whales.” She looked down at the beach and watched the waves rolling in for a minute. “I have to pee.”

“We've only been here a couple of hours,” Bon Bon reminded her. “Are people bladders that small?” She considered this for a moment—she felt no particular urge—and looked at Lyra. “Or, did you forget to go before we left this morning?”

“I forgot! There were so many other things to think about.”

“Well, your mare parts still look mostly the same,” Bon Bon informed her. “And you won't have to worry about getting your tail wet.”

“That's not what I'm worried about. I just—where do you go?” She looked at Bon Bon. “Twilight said something about there being some kind of basin, and some other vertical trough that you could use while standing, but I never asked her for more details. Who wants to know about people bathrooms?”

Bon Bon chuckled. “You do, apparently.” She took a deliberately slow drink of her wine.

“I don't know what I should do. I doubt I can hold it until we get back to Equestria, but what if I use the wrong thing?”

“I don't see any fixtures, so you won't have to worry about that.”

“Oh.” Lyra looked around. The beach was devoid of any type of structure, save what beachgoers had brought and assembled in situ. “Good point.”

“Just go over there,” Bon Bon suggested, pointing towards a patch of marram grass. “I haven't seen anypony sitting in the grass, so it'll be all right. Besides, the grass will thank you.”

Lyra looked at the grass dubiously. “I don't—“

“Do you think we came in from the fields when I was a filly? It's called 'making water' for a reason.”

“Good point.” Lyra stood up and looked at the slope, screwing up her courage. Finally, she stepped off the blanket and walked towards the upslope of the dunes, until she was a few dozen feet away from their blanket and near the center of a low patch of marram grass.

Bon Bon watched her closely—if Lyra accidentally peed all over her leg, at least Bon Bon would have an example of how not to do it.

Lyra moved around, considering her position and the wind direction, before she committed herself. She finally settled on standing with her legs apart, straddling the driest-looking clump of grass, and began.

When she was done, she practically skipped back to the blanket. “I did it! And I didn't get any on myself! Just like a human!”

“You're as proud as a filly using the toilet for the first time,” Bon Bon said dryly. “Should I give you a cookie?”

“When you pee down your leg, I'll laugh and laugh and laugh. . . .”

“I had the foresight to go before we left,” Bon Bon reminded her.

“Spoilsport.” Lyra sat down on the blanket and surveyed the beach. The man who was sunbathing near them was ostensibly reading a book, but she noticed that he kept looking at them before returning to his book.

“I was wondering how Twilight knew anything about this place,” Bon Bon remarked. “The mirror portal took her to a different world than this, didn't it?”

“She used a seeker spell,” Lyra told her. “Probably set on an object, like a come-to-life spell. It would just sit there and observe until it was stopped, then she could watch it at her leisure.”

“Well, that’s pretty useful. Can you cast seeker spells?”

“Yes; we learned them my senior year.”

“And they can be cast on anything?”

“Pretty much, although it gets tricky if there are already other enchantments on the object.”

“And then you can just watch it later?”

“Yup.”

“Over and over again, like a film?”

“Well, it’s not that simple, but basically, yes.”

Bon Bon looked at her suspiciously. "Have you ever—”

Lyra pointed down the beach. “Look, that man’s looking at us again. I think I’ll go over and talk to him, find out some . . . stuff.”

As Lyra stood, Bon Bon smacked her in the butt. “I want to watch it too.”

“Wh—” Lyra’s cheeks colored. ‘Ah—”

“There’s more than one, isn’t there?”

“We’ll talk about it when we’re back home.”

Bon Bon crossed her arms and glared daggers at Lyra, who tried and failed to return an innocent look.

“I should have told you. I’m sorry.” She glanced back down at the nearby sunbather. “Are you coming with me?”

“I’ll just stay here and watch. You’d better not hit on him.”

“Aw come on, Bons, don’t you want to try and make it with another species?”

“Nope.”

“Whatever.” Lyra stuck out her tongue.

Bon Bon ignored her and took a drink of wine.

Lyra was halfway between their blanket and the man before he noticed her approach. She'd planned on getting close before saying anything, but he'd happened to look up from his book and spotted her. His eyes stayed on her as she closed the distance between them; when he realized she was headed his way, he sat up straight and grinned.

“Bore da,” he said as she got close.

“Bore da,” Lyra replied. “Sut wyt ti?”

“Im 'yn gwneud yn dda, diolch i chi. A ydych yn lleol?” He seemed to be having trouble looking up at her face, so she sat on the blanket next to him.

Author's Note

Harri Potter a Maen yr Athronydd
Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone

Bore da
Good morning

Sut wyt ti?
How are you?

“Im 'yn gwneud yn dda, diolch i chi. A ydych yn lleol?”
I'm doing well, thank you. Are you local?"

Talking With Thomas

Lyra and Bon Bon Visit Wales
Talking with Thomas
Admiral Biscuit

“No, I come from a small town a ways away from here,” Lyra continued in Welsh. “It’s called Pon . . . um, Manville.”

“That sounds French,” Thomas replied. He’d heard things about French girls; until now, he hadn’t believed them. “Are you French?"

Lyra hesitated. “Have you been there?” she asked, hoping she’d gotten the right mix of hopeful curiosity in her tone. She had to admit she was from somewhere, and she knew about Prance—which was probably the same here; Twilight had said there were all sorts of strange parallels between the worlds.

"No," he said. "I've never left the UK. I'd like to go, sometime, I just don't have any friends who live there, and I don’t know the language." He gave her a funny look. "Hey, how come you speak Welsh?"

"So? What's wrong with knowing Welsh?"

"There's nothing wrong with it, but—"

"We wanted to go to Wales, so we learned Welsh. Simple."

"Wouldn't English have been more useful?"

"Not really. We weren't planning to visit Engles."

"Oh, I see," he said dubiously. "So how long are you staying here?"

"I just came here for the day, with my mare—with my womanfriend. Over there.” She pointed to Bon Bon, who was watching the pair while drinking another glass of wine. He waved, and she reluctantly waved back.

“Where are my manners?” He stuck out his hand and Lyra looked at it dubiously, before remembering that she'd seen other people on the beach doing that. “I’m Thomas Davis.”

As she held his grasp, she tried to think of what that name meant. She couldn't think of any normal occupations that the name fit, or even lifestyles, but some of the upper-class unicorns she knew of had pretty esoteric names. It must be something like that, she thought, unless one or both of those words is related to a human-only part.

“I’m Lyra Heartstrings,” she announced, leaning forward and embracing him. She'd seen the mare with the cutie mark across her back do that, so it was obviously the way women greeted men. After a short hug, she let him go and pointed up the beach. “That’s Sweetie Drops, my womanfriend, but everyperson calls her Bon Bon, or Bons for short.”

“That’s a weird name,” he said. “I can see why she goes by a nickname. Were her parents hippies?”

Lyra frowned at the unfamiliar term. "Uh, no, her dad's a farmer and her mom's an herbalist."

She put a hand on his shoulder, the sensation foreign under her new human hand. She hadn’t intended for it to be as distracting as it seemed—his face flushed, although he didn’t make any effort to move her hand. Instead he looked down at her chest again.

Lyra glanced down at herself, checking to make sure there wasn’t a bug or something crawling across her boobs, since that was where his attention was drawn. She didn’t see anything there, and decided it must be a human behavior. If women all had different-sized boobs, maybe that was one way men could tell them apart—certainly, hers and Bon Bon's were nothing alike. She’d have to ask Twilight about that when she got back to Equestria.

“So, do you come here often?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Well, in the summer, anyway. It’s too cold in the spring and fall.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied, not really paying attention. She glanced down at his hip, hoping to see a cutie mark but there was nothing visible. You didn't see one when he walked by you earlier, she told herself. You can't expect it to have just appeared. He shifted around nervously as she was looking, so she looked back at his face. She could hardly ask him if he was full-grown—if he was he’d be insulted; if no, she might have to endure an uncomfortable explanation.

Fortunately, he broke the silence admirably with his own question. "So, um, what's the story behind your ink?"

"Ink?" Lyra looked at him in confusion. She hadn't brought any writing supplies. She should have; Twilight was never going to forgive her for the oversight. Nopony came to the beach to take notes, though. The librarian would just have to suffer.

"Your tattoo," he said, pointing to her hip.

"It's because my special talent is music," she began, explaining it as she would to a foal. She twisted on the blanket so he could get a better look. "I fell in love with the lyre, so that's what I got."

"Lyre?"

"Don't you know what that is?"

"Kind of. It's like a harp, isn't it?"

"Smaller," she told him. "You can hold it in one ho—hand, and play it with the other."

"Yeah. And you liked it so much you decided to get it tattooed on your hips?"

Lyra nodded. She wasn't sure exactly what he meant by 'tattoo,' but maybe that was another idiom that wouldn't translate. "Isn't there something you really enjoy doing?"

"Yeah," he said defensively. "Lots of things. I don't know if I enjoy them enough to have them permanently marked on me, though." He looked back down at her hip. "I suppose it can be covered, though."

"Why would I want to?" she asked him honestly. "It's who I am, and I wouldn't change that for anything."

"Well, I guess it's good to be that passionate about something. If my parents knew I was here instead of at university, they'd worry."

Lyra digested this new information. If he was at university, and it was the same as it was in Equestria, than he was old enough to be on his own. On the other hoof, if he was hiding from his parents, then he wasn't old enough. It was all so complicated.

"Your friend—what did you say her name was? Boms? —she must have some really good suntan lotion, eh?" Bon Bon had turned her back to them while she fished around in the picnic basket for another snack to go with the fresh glass of wine she'd poured.

"Suntan lotion?" Lyra looked at him blankly.

"Well, her back's kind of red, and she's got really pale skin. I mean, I wasn't staring, but I just happened to notice, you know, the eye's drawn to movement, heh, and well, um." Thomas' face was beginning to turn red. "If, if she doesn't put some on she's going to have an awful sunburn."

"We didn't bring any," Lyra told him. "I've never needed it before. Do you have any we could borrow?"

"Yeah, I, uh, I got some here. I like to bring it along, in case I go swimming. It says it's waterproof, but it isn't. Learned that the hard way." He reached into his bag, while Lyra looked back over at Bon Bon. Her skin was changing color. She'd noticed that earlier, but hadn't really thought much of it.

"Cool; I'll be right back." Lyra hopped off the blanket and flounced over to their spot. Thomas watched her go with a wistful smile. When he'd headed out for the beach, he'd never thought he'd have a French girl hitting on him . . . and now she was going to get her friend, too. If he played his cards right, he might just have the best night ever.

Lyra crouched down next to Bon Bon. "You should come over and meet that guy. He's telling me all sorts of interesting people-stuff."

"He keeps looking at me," Bon Bon said. "When you aren't paying attention."

"That's because men can tell women apart by their boobs," Lyra told her. "It's no different than another pony looking at your cutie mark. Oh, and he says you should be wearing suntan lotion, and he's got some that he's willing to share."

"Can't you just bring it over here? I just got comfortable." She motioned to the top of the picnic basket where she'd set two slices of bread—a former sandwich, minus its filling—and her wine.

"Oh come on, Bons, you know you want to hang out with a new species. He thinks we're from Prance, that's what I told him. He's never been there, so we can fake it."

"You want to hang out with a new species. Can't I just sit here, drink in peace, and watch for whales?"

"Please? He's really friendly, and it would make me happy." Lyra traced a finger along Bon Bon's arm. "And a happy Lyra is a horny Lyra," she added with a coy smile.

"I am not doing it on a beach," Bon Bon said flatly. "Not with some weird human, and not with you."

"It's not like that," Lyra said, grabbing Bon Bon's shoulder. "I . . . well, I won't lie and say that the thought hasn't ever crossed my mind, but even if I was thinking of it, I don't know how they, ah, show that they're ready or interested." She looked over her shoulder at Thomas. "I could try winking at him. . . ."

"Don't you dare. Not until you know him better." Bon Bon slammed the rest of her wine and got unsteadily to her feet—the combination of the wine and sunshine were causing minor issues with the already unnatural bipedal gait.

As she walked down the beach, she studied him closely. He didn't really look like anything special, but then Lyra would have been happy talking to a tree, if it could have told her more about humans. Lyra had practically jogged back to him, and was occupying one side of his beach towel.

"This is Thomas," Lyra said.

"I'm Bon Bon," she responded, leaning down to give him a hug like she'd seen Lyra doing earlier.

"I'm pleased to meet you," he croaked once she'd let him go.

"Is there room on the blanket for another po—person?"

"I could just—" he began, before Lyra wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him against her.

"Go ahead and take that side," Lyra offered. "We'll all fit if we scrunch together."

Bon Bon bent over and brushed some loose grit off the blanket before sitting alongside him, and lifting a foot to brush the sand off the bottom. Sand had never bothered her hooves, but she'd discovered her human feet had far more sensitive bottoms.

Once she had her feet clean, she set them on the blanket. Thomas held a bottle in front of her.

"Is that the suntan lotion Lyra told me about?"

"Uh-huh."

"And what does it do?"

"It—well, it keeps you from getting a sunburn. Like you're getting on your back." Thomas put the bottle in her hand.

"Because a sunburn would hurt," Lyra added.

"Yeah, I bet your back's pretty tender right now, and you don't want it getting any worse." Thomas added.

Bon Bon looked at the bottle skeptically. Like most earth ponies who'd grown up on a farm, she never had much interest in fancy lotions or expensive mane and coat care. Simple shampoos were all she ever used. All the tiny printing of the bottle was a pretty good indicator of how fancy it was, she reasoned. "If I just lie on my back, it won't be in the sun any more."

"But you'll get a sunburn on your ti—on your ch—on your front," Thomas told her. "I think that would hurt even more."

"Wait, so I have to put this stuff on all over? That's dumb. Why do you let the sun be so hot that it burns po—people?"

"That's a really good question," Lyra said. "Can't your princess make it colder?"

"Kate? What does she have to do with the sun's temperature?"

"Never mind," Lyra said. "I guess the custom is to put on sunscreen."

"Okay, I guess." Bon Bon looked at Thomas. She'd finally given up on the label: it was printed in some sort of gibberish that maybe meant something to people, but to her looked like it was printed in a foreign language with too few ys and ws. Anyway, when she went to the spa for a hooficure or to soak in the hot tub, she let Aloe and Lotus do their thing; she might as well let Thomas make sure the lotion was used properly. "You know more about this stuff than I do. Can you put it on me?"

"Put it . . . on?" His eyes had started to get a distant look.

"Yeah, anywhere that you think might burn. Will it be easier if I straddle your legs? I can turn around so you can do my back." She moved in so he could reach her more easily, but he didn't move, just stared straight ahead with his mouth slightly agape.

"I think you might have broken him," Lyra told her. "He looks like a terrified foal."

"What did I do?"

"Maybe he has a fever. His face is awfully red." Lyra put a hand to his forehead. "I hope he's okay. I don't know who we should go to for help."

Fortunately for the ponies, he recovered his composure quickly. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I don't know . . . I just kind of zoned out there for a moment."

"Is it from the sun?" Bon Bon asked, leaning well into his personal bubble.

"Not the sun," he squeaked. "I . . . I think it might be best if you, you put on your own suntan lotion. I'm not—don't, I don't know if. . . ." His voice trailed off into incoherent mumbling.

"You do it, then," Bon Bon muttered, handing the bottle to Lyra. "Make sure you get everything.”

Thomas did his utmost to keep his eyes focused on their faces and nothing else as Lyra spread the sunscreen on Bon Bon. If he had had a blindfold, it might have worked, but as it was, it would have been easier to just decide to stop breathing for a while. "French girls have no modesty," he muttered. "They should expect this. God, I'm moving to France."

"That feels funny," Bon Bon told her. "Good, but funny."

"These things are pretty useful," Lyra replied, looking down at her hand. "I'm sort of liking it." She closed the top of the bottle and set it back in Thomas' bag, then wrapped her arms around him and gave him a hug, nuzzling his cheek. "Thanks for the lotion, Thomas."

"Christ," he mumbled in response.

Lyra let him go and sat back on the blanket, while Bon Bon stretched out on her back, extending her arms over her head. "Mmm, the sun feels nice. It doesn't feel too hot."

"So what do you study at university?" Lyra prompted. "You never did tell me."

"Civil engineering," he told her.

"You have to go to university to learn to run a train nicely? Locomotives are kind of complex, but I never thought they were that complicated. I don't think our local engineer even graduated primary school."

"Not that kind of engineering. We call those 'engine drivers.' It's about designing and building things, you know, like roads and bridges and buildings. That sort of thing."

"So kind of like an architect?"

"Well, not really. The architect is only interested in the external appearance of a building. The engineer does the structural calculations, and figures out how to make it stay up. Or decides what kind of material is best for a particular purpose, or handles the infrastructure around the building. There are a lot of specialty fields, but I haven't really decided on which one I like best. It's only my first year there, so I have time." He frowned. "Well, if I can keep my maths grades up." He smiled at her. "I bet you don't have to know that kind of stuff to be a lyre player."

"Just musical theory, and the design and construction of stringed instruments. And how to read sheet music, and read in general."

"Yeah, because you don't have to be able to read in other pursuits," he said sarcastically.

"Exactly," Lyra told him. "Our farrier can't read. She apprenticed instead of going to school."

"You keep horses?"

Horseapples. "Uh, well, there are some ponies where I live, yes."

"I've never ridden a one before," he said wistfully. "Have you?"

Lyra's eyes flicked over to Bon Bon for a moment. "A few times."

Thomas followed her gaze, lingering for a while before he spoke again. "Ah, what does your friend do? Is she a musician, too?"

"No, she's a candy-maker. Didn't you see her, um, taboo, her ink?"

No, I was more interested in other things, he thought. And how I'd like to . . . think unsexy thoughts. Margaret Thatcher.The Thatch . . . crap. Susan Boyle. Susan Boyle. "I must have missed it," he mumbled. "On account of making eye contact and not staring at her giga . . . hip. You know what, I need a drink right now." He reached around behind Lyra and grabbed a bottle of Coke. "You want some? You'll have to drink from the bottle; I don't have any cups, but I promise I don't have any weird diseases."

Lyra's eyes sparkled. "Sure, I'd love to have some."

"My mates are going to be along in a little bit, and they'll have a cooler of beer, if you want something stronger. I was going to buy some myself, but I forgot my wallet at my flat. No pockets, you know?"

"Maybe I'll try some beer later," Lyra said. "But whatever you have is fine."

He offered the bottle. She looked at the lable curiously. "What's a Coke?"

"It's a fizzy drink. Don't they have those in France?"

"Ah, I'm not sure. I mostly just drink wine and coffee."

"It's sparkly, like Champagne," he warned her too late. She took a gulp of it, made an interesting face, and sneezed and belched nearly simultaneously.

"Woo, I wasn't expecting that," she snorted, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "That's pretty intense."

She looked up as another couple came across the beach towards them—a man and woman holding hands. The man stared at Bon Bon's recumbent form for a moment, before the woman smacked his arm with her free hand.

"Hey, Pedr, hey Gwylan," Thomas said. "Those are some of my friends," he explained. "We were all going to bum around."

"I stopped by your flat, but you weren't there. Got an early start at the beach, and I can see why."

"Be nice, Pedr," the woman said.

"Oh, yeah, hey, I meant to ring you, but I kind of forgot." Thomas smiled. "You know how it is." He motioned towards Lyra. "This is Lyra, and over there is Bon Bon. They're from France."

"Picked a nice day to visit," Gwylan said, leaning down to shake Lyra's hand. "I swear, it rains almost every weekend. We hardly ever get to go out to the beach."

"So you're still planning to play, aren't you?" Pedr tilted his head up towards the dunes.

"God, I don't know." Thomas looked over at Lyra. "We're having a nice time talking and—well . . . ."

"Oh, come on, man, I need you. Don't you remember we've got a wager?"

"No," he admitted. "I don't."

"You must have left the pub before we settled it. We've been keeping pace all year, right?"

Gwylan stepped in. "Only 'cause Cati sprained her ankle and couldn't play for a month."

"Sure. Whatever. Anyway, so I figured we'd put a little bit of a wager on this match, you know, make it more interesting." He hooked a thumb towards Gwylan. "So she decided that if the men lose the game, I've got to shave. Down there. Smooth as a baby's bum, she says."

Thomas whistled. "You're pretty confident, mate."

"I was on the piss," he mumbled. "But Gwylan won't let me back down."

"What if us guys win? I mean, she's wagering something, too, right?"

"I'll let mine grow back in. Six months without a razor. Unless he can't take it any more." She stuck her tongue out at Pedr, who kissed her before turning back to Thomas.

"So you see what it's like," Pedr said. "You've got to play. Nobody else saves like you, and with Cati back on the field, I've got to have you."

"I don't know," he dithered. "I'd like to, but—"

Lyra touched his shoulder. "Go ahead. I'd love to watch you play. We can take our stuff down by the game."

"Yeah, that's the spirit." Pedr's eyes lit up. "After the grudge match, we'll mix up the teams, and you can play, if you want." He gave Lyra a wink. "You'll love watching Thomas play."

Volleyball

Lyra and Bon Bon visit Wales
Chapter 4
Admiral Biscuit

It was a close match. Both Lyra and Bon Bon were rooting for the boys, of course. But while Lyra was interested in watching the players, Bon Bon studied the game with the same intensity Princess Twilight Sparkle aimed at a book of advanced magical theory.

The women ultimately won. The final, desperate return by Pedr sailed out of bounds, rolling to a halt some twenty feet away from the court. Gwylan took the victory well, while Pedr's reaction was much more vocal, and he looked mournfully at his crotch several times as he loudly lamented the loss.

Both teams took a break, passing out beer from a scratched blue Igloo cooler. Gwylan taunted her boyfriend with a disposable Bic razor she'd brought for the occasion, while Thomas sat down next to Lyra and Bon Bon and handed each of them a beer.

"Summer Lightning," he said. "A good, strong ale."

"It looks like watered-down apple cider," Lyra said dubiously.

"Doesn't taste like it," he told her. "I take it you've never had beer before, and—" He looked over at Bon Bon who was draining the bottle in one long pull. She belched loudly and handed the empty bottle back to Thomas.

"Not bad. A little bitter, but very smooth." She wiped off her mouth with the back of her wrist. "You got one more before I step in?"

"You can have mine," Lyra said, making a face. "It's not really quite my flavor. Sorry, Thomas."

He shrugged. "Hey, did you see that save I made earlier?"

"Yeah. It reminded me of the time Bluebell dove for the ball in the final match of Cloudsdale vs. Las Pegasus and saved the game." She looked at him curiously. He had some scrapes on the top of his thigh from his landing. "That looks like it hurt."

He waved his hand dismissively. "No biggie. I've had worse. One time, I slid into one of the poles. Saved the ball, though."

"Well, I'm ready to play," Bon Bon said, standing up. She began to stretch like she'd seen the other girls doing.

“You're going to play?” Gwylan said incredulously. “Forgive me for asking, but aren't you a little top-heavy?”

“Top-heavy?”

Gwylan shook her head. “Your boobs. Or are you going to put on a top?”

“A top?” Bon Bon scrunched up her nose and looked at Lyra for any help. Lyra shrugged. “I don't have one.”

“Really? You didn't wear one to the beach?”

“They're French,” Thomas mouthed to her.

Gwlyan looked over to the group clustered around the cooler. “Oi, Tirion. You're closest to her size.”

“So?” the pixie-haired girl asked.

“You got a top in your bag?”

“It's nowhere near big enough. Might stretch enough to fit.” She grabbed a duffel and began rummaging around inside, finally pulling out a bright-orange bikini top. She tossed it over to Bon Bon.

“How does this thing work?” Bon Bon asked, turning it over in her hand.

"It's just like a bra . . . you've never worn a bra? God, I'm jealous. Most girls with boobs your size would sag . . . well, I can help you put it on if you want."

"I'd rather just go without," Bon Bon grumbled. "Wouldn't want to have an unfair advantage."

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth," Tirion advised. “You’ll be sorry the first time you jump. Trust me.”

"I'll be fine," Bon Bon assured her.

Gwylan and Cati headed to the court. Pedr had opened another beer and shook his head. Thomas looked longingly at the court, too, but Lyra put a hand on his arm, and he stayed put. A few more guys and girls Bon Bon didn't know also went back to the court.

"Have you played before?" Gwylan asked her.

"No, but I got a pretty good idea how the game works," Bon Bon said. "I paid attention when you were playing your last game."

"Do you play any sports?"

"I'm pretty good at hoofball.”

Gwylan looked at her dubiously. "Totally different than football—here you can only use your hands. Ah . . . tell you what. Why don't you start on our team in the center? We'll see what you can do."

Cati and Gwylan took the front, leaving Bon Bon in the middle, with one man behind her. A quick coin toss gave them the ball first, and Bon Bon crouched down as the ball flew over her head to the other side of the net.

It landed near the edge of the court, and one of the girls on the other side of the net reached for it, bobbing it up in the air. A bearded guy right in the front watched its arc carefully, before leaping up and driving it towards the center of the court—towards Bon Bon.

If she'd stopped to think about her new body, she would have completely missed the ball, but the spell somehow made it follow her commands so long as she didn't put too much thought into the motion—besides, earth ponies were the best of the three tribes on their hind hooves. Bon Bon laced her fingers together and knocked the ball in a high arc back over the net, lofting it towards the very tail end of the other team's side.

They made the return, and Cati blocked it at the net, jumping and driving it down into the ground at the feet of the bearded man. Bon Bon smiled—she'd have to remember that move.

"Nice," Gwylan said, slapping Cati on the back.

The bearded man picked the ball up and tossed it back to their server. Bon Bon crouched back down, resting her hands on her knees, a position which felt pretty natural.

"One serving zero." He smacked the ball and launched it over the net. The bearded man jumped too late, the ball skidding off the top of his fingers, towards a willowy blonde who got just enough of the ball to send it bouncing toward the ocean.

The ball changed hands a few times. Bon Bon studied each volley intently, learning what moves worked well and which ones didn't, as well as identifying the strengths and weaknesses of both teams. The women, she'd noticed, didn't jump as well as the men, which gave them a disadvantage when it came to spiking the ball—a move that was very hard to counter. On the other hoof, the man who'd started off as their server was terrible at bouncing shots up in the air where somepony else could hit it.

It finally came her turn to serve, and she looked over the other side while formulating her strategy. The bearded man was the weak link, she decided. He was good at the net, but not mid-court. She tossed the ball up in the air and straight-armed it toward him, drilling it into his chest before he could get his arms under it. The ball bounced back, hitting the willowy blonde in the shin before falling to the sand.

Yes, she thought. That worked perfectly.

A second serve produced a nearly-identical result, and Bon Bon began to get cocky. She grinned at him as she bounced lightly on her feet. As long as she kept dropping the ball in the same place, they didn't have a good defense.

Unfortunately, the bearded man had come to the same conclusion. As soon as she tossed the ball up for her serve, he moved forward, and to her dismay, he got his hands on the ball and knocked it back to their side. Cati dove for it and lobbed it up to Gwylan, who lightly set the ball. Cati ran up to the net, spiking the ball forward and down before the other team could react.

As Bon Bon prepared for her fourth serve, the possible permutations were running through her head. If I make the same serve, he'll do the same move again, so how to counter it? She decided to go low, and hope he didn't get up to the net fast enough.

Unfortunately, she went too low, and the ball hit the net, landing back on her side. She ran for it, crashing into Cati, and the two of them went down in a tangle of limbs.

"Sorry," Bon Bon said as she pushed herself back to her feet. "I couldn't stop."

Cati waved a hand. "No worries. It happens."

The willowy blonde turned out to be a rather poor server, and the ball quickly came back to their possession. Bon Bon moved up to the net, where she found herself facing the bearded man. As she rocked on her feet, she noticed that his eyes kept being drawn to her boobs. She grinned—she could use that to her advantage. She began flexing her knees a little bit, letting them bounce more, all the while keeping her eye on the server. As soon as the ball was launched, Bon Bon jumped, blocking it at the net and bouncing it off the head of the bearded man.

"Ow," she mumbled as she landed. Her chest hadn't liked that jump at all, and for a second she wondered if it was possible to accidentally give herself a black eye with her own boobs. Maybe there was something to Tirion’s warning.

"I don't know how you can jump with those babies," Cati said.

"It'd be nice if they were smaller," Bon Bon agreed. "Like yours, maybe."

"You could get a breast reduction. A lot of girls your size do, especially if they're physically active."

"Is that what you had?"

Cati shook her head. "No, I wasn't blessed—or cursed—with big tits."

"Can anyone here do it? It'd be easier to play if these things weren't flopping around."

Cati raised an eyebrow. "Nooo, that's the kind of thing that a plastic surgeon needs to do in a clinic. You know."

"Oh, right, a clinic. Sure, I knew that." Bon Bon sighed. It would have been nice if there was a spell that Lyra could cast, but apparently it took a specialist. "I'll be fine. If they get too sore, I'll just have Lyra give me a massage."

• • •

Lyra looked away from the volleyball game and over to Pedr's group—they had a picnic basket opened and were making sandwiches. Her stomach grumbled and she looked at the basket they'd brought from Equestria. It would be nice to have some traditional food while I'm here, she thought.

Thomas noticed her interest. "You feeling peckish?"

"Sure, what do you have?"

"Let me check." He went over to the basket and rummaged around in it, then came back. "Lunch meat, Marmite, crisps, Branston Pickle, and a whole mess of bangers and mash Tirion made." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I wouldn't try those. The gulls wouldn't touch the last batch she brought. Oh! There's a tin of kippers. Not sure why they're still in the hamper."

Lyra furrowed her brow. She had no idea what most of those things were. Lunch meat was out, and crisps sounded risky. Bon Bon, being an earth pony, did most of the shopping and cooking at their house. She was the expert on plants; she knew what kinds to get, and when they were at their freshest. Lyra had learned from watching, but to her knowledge no booth in Ponyville sold either Marmite or kippers. “I've always liked a big pickle," she mused. "Maybe Marmite and kippers, too? I've never had any of those things."

“You're in for a treat,” Thomas told her, after bringing supplies from the basket.

When he opened the can of kippers, Lyra's face turned green. She'd heard that some ponies ate fish, but had never taken any interest in it herself; judging by the smell coming from the can, she'd made the right choice. She shook her head and slid across the blanket until she was well upwind of the stench.

“Right, then,” Thomas said. He looked over at Lyra and then back at the kippers in his hand, before gallantly carrying them over to the group surrounding the cooler. “She doesn't like kippers,” he explained softly, leaning towards Pedr. “I'd hate to have them go to waste, though.”

“Trying to get lucky, mate?” Pedr punched his arm playfully. “Don't blame you. We'll take care of those nasty kippers.” He set the can on top of the cooler. “Off with you, then.”

When Thomas got back to his blanket, Lyra had her finger dipped in the jar of Marmite. She licked it off and looked up at him. “This stuff is pretty good. What's it made out of?” She looked up the beach just in time to see Tirion toss a kipper up in the air and catch it in her mouth like a trained seal. “You know what? Don't tell me.”

“It's probably better that way,” Thomas admitted, sticking a knife in the jar.

“So,” Thomas asked once Lyra had finished her sandwich, “are you and Bon Bon, ah, an item? Together?”

Lyra nodded. “We've been together since I got out of school. She had a room for rent, and one thing led to another. . . .”

Thomas' face fell. He'd been getting his hopes up, only to have them come crashing down. The story of my life, he thought. Too little, too late, every bloody time. He took a drink of Summer Lightning to rally his courage. “I don't suppose you have an . . . open relationship?”

“Open relationship?” Lyra furrowed her brow, uncertain what the expression meant. Certainly, everypony in Ponyville who was interested knew that they were dating. Her parents and Bon Bon's knew, and while her parents might have been a little disappointed that she wasn't married to a pony with high social standing, they understood her choice. And if she ever wanted a foal, there were plenty of stallions in Ponyville who'd be eager to help. “Yeah, I'd say it's open.”

Thomas grinned. His ship wasn't sinking, after all. “Bon Bon's pretty good,” Thomas observed.

“She ought to be.” Lyra covered a yawn. “Earth po—people tend to be athletic. She's better than me, physically.”

“Earth people?”

“Umm.” Lyra grabbed a piece of bread and stuffed it into her mouth to buy herself a little time to think. You and Bon Bon turned into pretty much the same thing, so maybe they don't have the three tribes."You know, grow food and flowers and stuff.”

“Oh, farmers.” Thomas chuckled. “I'm gonna have to remember 'earth people'; that's pretty good.”

Lyra yawned again. “Sorry, I get sleepy after a meal,” she explained. “I didn't get a lot of rest last night, either. Would you mind if I took a bit of a nap?”

“No, go right ahead. Do you want me to find a pillow or something for your head?”

“Don't need one,” Lyra said, laying down on her side. “I can sleep like this just fine.”

• • •

"Well, that's enough for me," Bon Bon declared as she dropped on the blanket beside Thomas. "My boobs and legs hurt, and I've got welts on my forearm from the ball. You got another ale? I could use a drink."

He nodded and pointed to the cooler. "Grab one. I don't want to disturb her." Lyra was stretched out on her side, her head resting on one outstretched arm, while her other hand was gently clutching Thomas' knee.

"She’s cute when she sleeps, isn’t she? How long has she been out?"

"Most of your last game," Thomas said. "Hey, would you mind grabbing me one, too?"

Bon Bon walked over to the cooler and pulled two bottles out of the ice. She'd seen how Thomas used the opener on the lids—which was conveniently tied to one of the cooler's handles, so it didn't get lost—and opened the bottles before walking back to the blanket. She handed one to Thomas and took a sip of hers.

"She was up half the night," Bon Bon said. "She was in a really frisky mood, probably on account of knowing we were coming out here today.” Between the exercise, sun, and alcohol, Bon Bon was more talkative than usual. “I swear, it was all she could talk about yesterday evening; even then it was a pretty spur-of-the-moment decision. So far, it's been pretty nice, though.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, “it has. She's awfully upbeat.” He looked over at her and almost put a hand on her shoulder, but stopped himself at the last moment, instead bringing the beer bottle to his lips.

“Tell me about it,” Bon Bon said, tracing a finger up Lyra's thigh. “Normally sex puts her right to sleep, but last night I had to—“ She turned in alarm as Thomas started coughing. “Are you all right?”

"Just inhaled some beer," he wheezed.

"You shouldn't do that," Bon Bon chided. She leaned down and gently nibbled Lyra's ear. "Hey, wake up. I'm going in the water. Wanna come?"

Lyra yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Sure. Did you win?"

"Weren't you watching?"

"Sorry. Thomas and I got to talking. You know. And then I fell asleep." She stood up and looked down at Thomas. "You wanna come with us?"

"Sure." He slammed the rest of his beer and got up, following them down to the water's edge.

"Is it cold?" Lyra asked.

"Not too bad," Bon Bon said as a wave washed over her feet.

"I don't know if I can swim." Lyra whispered. "Don't most primates just sink?"

"Stay in shallow water, then," Bon Bon suggested. She bounded into the waves, letting out an exuberant shriek as one of them broke across her belly. Once she was in chest-deep water, she squatted down and brought her legs off the bottom, testing to see how well she floated.

It was a lot easier to swim as a pony, she decided. Here, her center of gravity was too high, and she had to move her arms around to keep from flopping face-first in the water—at least my boobs aren't pulling me under, she thought.

She looked back at the shore, where Lyra had taken Thomas' hand and was letting him lead her into the deeper water like a child.

Since she was alone, she took the opportunity to finally empty her bladder, sighing with relief. She probably shouldn't have had so much to drink—should have known that three beers and a half-magnum of wine were going to cause problems.

She took a brief walk to neck-deep water, then pulled her legs back up off the bottom and flopped down on her belly, sticking her head under to rinse the sweat out of her hair. Even with the much duller sense of smell she now had, she could clearly smell it on her skin.

Bon Bon opened her mouth, intending to take a drink, but spat it back out as soon as she tasted the salt. That can't be from me, she thought. The water was undrinkable. None of the lakes around Ponyville were this salty.

She looked back towards the shore, where Lyra was standing next to Thomas, both of them just above their waists in the ocean. As she watched, Lyra reached out and took Thomas' hand in her own, before the two of them began to walk into deeper water. Bon Bon began walking towards them, her progress hampered by waves that lifted her feet off the bottom.

She let the waves carry her forward, before deciding to attempt swimming. At first, the motion felt very odd—her hind legs were wanting to go perpendicular to her forelegs—but once she figured out that she could kick them back and forth while making a pulling motion with her arms, she began to make pretty good speed. Breathing was difficult: she had to turn her head to get it clear of the water, but her new arrangement of limbs seemed well-suited to forward progress.

Lyra spotted her and pointed; Thomas let go of her hand and dove forward into a wave, rapidly disappearing under the surface of the water. Bon Bon stopped swimming and stood up, trying to see where he'd gone. A moment later, he re-appeared, broaching out of the waves very much like a whale would. He dropped back under the water, popped up one more time, and then without warning, grabbed Bon Bon by the legs. She shrieked as he pulled her under, but was laughing as soon as she came back up.

“Who wants to play chicken?” Thomas called.

Lyra and Bon Bon exchanged a glance.

“I'm in,” Pedr called “Gwylan is, too.”

“Oh, I am, am I?” She cuffed him before moving towards them.

“I'm game,” Bon Bon volunteered. She wasn't sure how chicken was played, but it sounded like a sport.

“Me, next.”

“You can play winner,” Thomas suggested. “All right, Bons. Climb up on my shoulders.”

She glanced over at Gwylan, who'd already taken position on Pedr's shoulders. Thomas was crouched down, waiting for her. She pulled herself up his back, flinching slightly as he grabbed her legs. The moment he stood, she began swaying—clearly, this was not a stable position.

The two men faced each other. “On three,” Thomas said. “One . . . two—“

“Is she biting your neck?” Pedr asked.

“Thr—wait, what?”

It was no contest. Thomas was already off-balance from Pedr's remark, and Bon Bon's precarious perch didn't help. Pedr lunged forward, and Gwylan shoved Bon Bon in the shoulder, knocking her and Thomas back. Bon Bon windmilled her arms and leaned forward, but it was too late.

“That was horseshit,” Thomas declared as he untangled himself from Bon Bon.

“All's fair in love and war, baby,” Pedr retorted.

“I want a re-match,” Bon Bon said. “This time I'll be on the bottom.”

“Are you sure?” Thomas looked at her doubtfully.

“Yes! You have no balance. If you'd taken a step back, Gwylan would have over-extended herself and we would have won,” Bon Bon stated.

“She knows what she's talking about,” Lyra offered. “And she’s a lot stronger than she looks.”

“Well, okay then.” Thomas seemed a bit uncomfortable with the idea.

Bon Bon crouched down like she'd seen him do, letting him straddle her shoulders. “That feels really weird,” she told him as she grabbed his legs.

“Tell me about it.” Thomas shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position.

"You're pulling on my mane!" Bon Bon reached a hand back. "Let me just—"

"Watch what you're grabbing!"

"Don't be a baby," Bon Bon muttered as she pulled hee hair free. "Do you want to win, or not? Scooch up; if you sit too far back I can't balance right."

"This feels really weird in so many ways."

“You're tickling the back of my neck,” Bon Bon groused, loud enough for Pedr to hear. He dropped Gwylan as he doubled over, howling with laughter.

“That ought to count as a victory,” Lyra said.

Pedr shook his head. “No way. It only counts we get pushed over, not if we fall over on our own.”

Bon Bon stood up when Thomas patted her on the head and shifted her feet for balance. The bottom wasn't flat, and of course she couldn't see if there were any obstacles on it, which made things a bit trickier. Thomas was a bit heavier than she'd expected, but she figured she could cope with the extra weight. “Just before you push, lean forward,” she said. “Then don't move. I'll keep our balance, but if you move too far, I won't be able to recover.”

“Got it,” he said, glancing down at her for a moment, then back where Gwylan had gotten back on Pedr's shoulders.

“Hit her high and use your reach.”

As the two pairs came together, Lyra grinned. She loved Bon Bon's determined face, and even as a human, it was sexy. She let Pedr take the last step, stopping short and setting her feet. Thomas shoved Gwylan with both hands, rocking back slightly as the woman lost her balance. Bon Bon grinned as they stayed up. “That ties the score,” she said triumphantly. “Now we've got to do best of three.”

“I want to play,” Lyra said. “I want a turn.”

“I'm not breaking up a winning combination,” Bon Bon told her. “Me and Thomas are staying like this.”

“I could—“ Pedr began.

“No you don't.” Gwylan told him. “I'm not letting you give a stranger a piggyback ride. I'll be on the bottom.”

“Fine.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips and stepped back as Lyra came bounding over. She quickly climbed on Gwylan's back, grabbing the Welsh girl's head for balance as she stood.

Bon Bon and Thomas' victory was assured before the match even began: Lyra struggled to maintain her balance, not trusting Gwylan to stay under her, and her push was half-hearted at best. As soon as Thomas had dismounted, Bon Bon gave him a hug, before splashing over to Lyra.

“Wasn't that fun? We should try that at home—I bet Pinkie'd like to play. She loves water sports.”

Going Home

Lyra and Bon Bon visit Wales
Chapter 5
Admiral Biscuit

Thomas walked over to the pair. “It's getting late; you girls interested in coming over to my flat after we leave the beach?”

“Is it far?”

“Couple of miles. I can give you a ride, or you can follow me if you'd prefer.”

She looked over to where Bon Bon was raiding the cooler for another Summer Lightning. “I can't leave her by herself.”

“She's welcome to come along,” he said eagerly. “Or we could go to your place.”

“I don't think that would work out,” Lyra said. “Not this time around. I'd have to check with Twilight and see if it's even possible.”

“Twilight?”

“She's the one who gave me instructions on how to get here,” Lyra explained. “She's our town librarian.”

Bon Bon came walking back over with a bottle in her hand. “Hey Lyra, Pedr said we can come to the pub with them!”

“We could go to my flat after the pub.”

Lyra looked back at the ocean. The sun was rapidly descending toward the horizon. “It would take too long,” she said regretfully. “We have to leave before sunset.”

“Oh, okay.” Bon Bon's shoulders slumped. “Too bad. I really like your beer. I'll go tell the rest of them the bad news.” She walked back towards the cooler.

“Lyra says we have to leave by sunset,” she told Pedr. “So we can't come to the pub. Next time we come, though. I'll convince Lyra we have to go.” She looked around at the group, who were in the process of getting dressed. “Is it a fancy place?”

“The pub? No, it's pretty laid-back,” Pedr told her. “Why?”

“Well, why are you getting dressed, then?”

“You can't go into the pub nude!”

“But you said it's not fancy,” she protested. “Why would you wear clothes to go to a normal pub?”

“Wait a minute.” Gwylan finished fastening her bra as she walked over to Bon Bon. “Are you implying that you would go into a pub without a stitch of clothing on?”

“I would,” Tirion said.

“You hang out at strip joints; your opinion doesn't count.” Tirion stuck out her tongue and gave Gwylan the finger.

“Yes?” Bon Bon looked at her in confusion. “Wouldn't you?”

Gwylan narrowed her eyes. “You're not yanking my crank, are you?”

“Noperson wears anything to Berry's,” Bon Bon said defensively. “Unless they're on a date, then sometimes they dress up.”

“I've got to see that,” Tirion said. “Put that on my bucket list. Is it a pub in your hometown?”

Bon Bon nodded.

“You're putting me on,” Gwylan said flatly. “I don't know what the gag is. Look, here in Wales you've got to wear clothes when you're out in public.”

Bon Bon glanced up and down the beach skeptically. “Really?”

• • •

“I'll walk you back to the carpark,” Thomas said. “Just let me get something on.”

“Um, we didn't come from the carpark,” Lyra said. “Whatever that is.”

Thomas paused, his briefs halfway up his legs. He was suddenly getting the feeling that he was being 'let down gently,' and was faced with an internal dilemma: should he fight it, or bow to the inevitable?

Thus far, he'd been entirely unsuccessful in finding a date who was willing to come to Morfa Dyffryn with him—and, of course, when he was in an active relationship, he couldn't go on his own. All of his past girlfriends had completely misunderstood the concept of naturism, and were far too prudish to try it on their own.

He'd thought he might have found the perfect woman—really, the perfect pair. But, if they were a couple . . . You've just been stringing yourself along, mate, he thought. Of course they aren't interested in a relationship. And if they were, how would that work? Alternating days? Still, a one-night stand or two would have been nice. He sighed and pulled his shorts up.

“I understand,” he said. “I get it—really, I do. But listen, I had a lot of fun with you two today. You're really cool, especially for a couple of French girls. I'd like to stay in contact, at least.” He took out a pen and a piece of paper. “Here, e-mail me when you get back home, or friend me on Facebook.”

“thomas.davis.733450@facebook.com?” Lyra frowned. “That's a weird address.”

“It's my e-mail.”

She held the paper for a moment, trying to decide what to do with it. For a second, Thomas thought she was going to just tear it up; instead, she set it in their basket, before she bent over and folded up their blanket.

“Come on, Bons, we've got to get going,” Lyra called.

“Coming!” Bon Bon was carrying a cardboard box with her. “Pedr said since I liked the Summer Lightning so much I could have the rest of it.”

“That was nice of him. It won't fit in the basket.”

“I'll carry it.” Bon Bon hugged the box to her chest. “I'll keep it safe.”

“Lucky beer,” Thomas muttered.

“Thomas,” Lyra said, walking over to him. “I had a lot of fun with you today. Bons did too, didn't she?”

Bon Bon nodded.

“I don't know how soon we can come back, but when we do I'd love to see your flat.” She wrapped her arms around him; a moment later, Bon Bon relinquished her grip on the beer and did, too.

Finally, the two let him go and picked up their things, and began walking up the beach. Thomas fleetingly thought about following them, but finally decided to just let them go, hoping against hope that Lyra wasn't lying about coming back.

"Admit it, Bons, you had a good time."

"It was an eye-opener, that's for sure," Bon Bon replied. "They all seemed pretty nice, too."

"Thomas was disappointed we couldn’t stay, though."

"I would like to see their homes and kitchens. And Pedr was nice enough to give me ten more Summer Lightnings." She glanced at the collection of bottles. "You'll have to open them for me, I guess."

"Maybe next time, we can go to his flat."

The mares were interrupted by a knock on the door. Lyra opened it and Twilight's grinning muzzle came into view, followed by the rest of the alicorn.

"I saw you'd lit your lamps . . . so, how'd it go?"

"I had huge boobs," Bon Bon told her.

"Aren't they weird?" Twilight grinned. "But what else? Tell me everything! It's for science!"

So they did.

• • •

Once Twilight had finally left, Lyra yawned. "I'm ready to hit the hay."

"Mrph," Bon Bon replied, lifting her head off the couch. She'd been dozing as the two unicorns spoke. She stretched the kinks out of her neck and shook her mane out of her eyes. "Me, too."

As the pair of mares trudged up the staircase, Bon Bon turned to Lyra. "So, is your horn up to a little bit of a workout tonight?"

Lyra grinned. "Always."

"That's good." Bon Bon pushed the door to their bedroom open. "I know something fun we can do." She nodded towards the dresser. "We can watch one of your seeker spells!"

Lyra's face fell. She remembered! "A . . . seeker spell?"

Bon Bon nodded. "You said there were some. Well, come on, let's see one."

"Ah . . . " Lyra looked around the room, trying to remember which object had the least offensive contents.

Bon Bon flopped on the bed and stretched out on the comforter, flicking her tail impatiently. "Get a good one. I wanna have a reenactment."

Lyra's face lit up. She knew just the thing. "Okay, I'll be right back."

A minute later, she was back in the bedroom, an oven mitt floating in her field.

Epilogue

Lyra and Bon Bon visit Wales
Epilogue
Admiral Biscuit

By the time she'd finished composing her notes into three essays, a letter to the School for Gifted Unicorns, and a friendship report, it was nearly dawn. She stomped up to bed, but sleep wouldn't come. She tossed and turned for a while, before finally getting up.

She went down to the kitchen and made herself a sandwich, drifting it out of the kitchen and over to the fireplace in the main room. As she chewed the sandwich and looked into the darkened hearth, she thought about her time at Canterlot High. Lyra and Bon Bon's trip brought back a bunch of happy memories, and it would be great to visit when there wasn't a crisis.

Well, why not? She'd planned to write up her notes today, but that was already done. It would be nice to see her other friends again, and see how they were doing.

Spike was less enthusiastic about the proposal—or maybe it was being pulled out of bed before dawn—but he brightened when she reminded him he'd get to see a Rarity. Sometimes she felt bad playing on his emotions like that, but it did produce results.

She hastily grabbed her saddlebags and stuffed them full of notepaper and pens. She thought about bringing some gifts for her bipedal friends, but a quick glance around the library failed to reveal anything they'd be particularly interested in, and if she took too long, Spike was apt to go back to his basket. He was already yawning again.

I don't need the leash anymore; they know he can talk, she thought. Okay, pretty sure I've got everything I'll need for a quick trip.

She closed her eyes and began focusing her magical energy. The spell would let her appear anyplace in their world, and she'd put in a slight provision that let her spy through the opening portal and shift it around, in order to land precisely where she wanted to: it wasn't limited like the mirror portal. She'd bypassed that in the spell she gave Lyra, since it was already about as difficult a spell as the mint unicorn could cast, but Twilight was blessed with far more magical potential.

A quick glimpse of the high school showed that it was practically deserted, and the clock on the tower showed it was four in the afternoon. I'll have to write a paper about time disparities as they relate to interplanar travel via portals. She shook her head and focused back on the task at hoof. Girls will probably be at the coffee shop, she thought, shifting her focus.

Sure enough, as the locus of the spell shifted, she spotted her friends. Unsurprisingly, Pinkie saw her, too, and began waving like a maniac. Twilight grunted and let the magic go.

With a pop not unlike the sound a balloon bursting makes, Twilight and Spike appeared in the center of the coffee shop. To her great good fortune, Flash Sentry was at the counter, getting himself a latte. He turned at the noise; his face lit up in recognition, followed an instant later by his cheeks turning crimson.

Why do I feel cold all of a sudden? Twilight thought.

"Twilight?" Spike said softly. "I think—"

"Uh, Twi?" Applejack muttered. "We normally wear clothes."

Author's Note

Well, y'all know what to do by now! For further information, feel free to click this link!