And They Call It Puppy Love

by kudzuhaiku

Rating: teen
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Sex, Tragedy, Slice of Life, Alternate Universe, Thunderlane, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Comedy, Rarity, Other, Romance
Length: 32820

Screwloose has been seeing a therapist. She's getting better. The therapist suggests that she tries dating. She does.

Screwloose, the notoriously screwy pony, has been getting better. She's been seeing a therapist, Dr. Hornwinkle, and he is pleased with her progress. She has been building relationships, fitting in, attending therapy sessions regularly, and speaking pony-speak instead of barking.

Dr. Hornwinkle suggests during one session that she tries dating, to see if she can finally integrate into pony society.

Alas, the pressure is too much and Screwloose suffers a bit of a relapse.

Published 2014-04-06 03:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-11 22:53:43 UTC

Chapter 1

“Dr. Hornwinkle?”

The doctor looked at his patient. She had a strained smile. Her eyes darted back and forth. Her face twitched slightly. She seemed slightly distracted. Her pupils dilated wildly, shrinking and growing, showing signs of a highly excited state.

“Yes Screwloose?”

“Did I get my cutie mark because I was crazy or did my cutie mark and my destiny make me crazy?” Screwloose asked, cocking her head.

Dr. Hornwinkle stared at his patient, looking thoughtful. “I am not sure if that can be answered.” He said after a long pause, nodding slightly.

“And why did they call me Screwloose?” Screwloose said, looking pained.

“Because when we found you, all you did was bark. You barked like a mad-pony. And you had a screw for a cutie mark. I suppose it was inappropriate for the asylum staff to call you that. Would you like a different name?” Dr. Hornwinkle asked.

Screwloose shook her head no. “I don’t think I do. I guess this sums up what I am. Am I getting better doctor?”

“I think so.” Dr. Hornwinkle replied. “How goes your dating?”

Screwloose blushed.

“Not well?” Dr. Hornwinkle inquired.

“I’ve placed a personal ad in the paper.” Screwloose said in a low voice. “I’ve met two stallions. Both found a reason to leave when they met me.”

“How are you dealing with the rejection?” Dr. Hornwinkle asked.

“I’m not.” Screwloose said, beginning to rock back and forth. “I’m not.”

Dr. Hornwinkle frowned. “Perhaps you should rewrite your ad. Maybe be more direct and open. Let somepony know exactly what they might be in for. You would be surprised. Ponies are good and compassionate creatures. Somepony will develop an interest.”

Screwloose nodded.

“And about that other thing…” Dr. Hornwinkle said, his voice trailing off.

“No. Not the slightest attraction for any stallion I’ve met. Am I gay Dr. Hornwinkle?” Screwloose said, her muzzle scrunched with worry.

“Perhaps.” Dr. Hornwinkle replied. “Maybe a personal ad seeking a mare might be prudent. Tell me, what do you think of the female pony form?”

“I don’t know.” Screwloose said, starting to rock back and forth again. “I have some body issues. I still don’t feel right in my own skin. I still see a stranger when I look in the mirror.”

“I see. Well, in psychology, we have a saying. The exotic becomes the erotic. Perhaps not feeling comfortable in your own skin is a manifestation of hidden desires, perhaps for female companionship.” Dr. Hornwinkle scribbled down a note on a sheet of paper as he spoke.

“I’ve never wanted what other ponies want Dr. Hornwinkle. I don’t want a family. I don’t want foals. I feel all wrong on the inside. I feel broken.” Screwloose said, the corner of her eye twitching. “I am not sure if I even want to go dating.”

“I’d like for you to keep trying. Maybe looking for female companionship will be the key. And I meant what I said. Rewrite your ad. Be totally and completely honest with what you want from a potential date. The results may surprise you.”

Screwloose nodded sadly, one ear twitching in time with her eye.

“And I think that concludes our session today. You have done very well Screwloose.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, smiling.

“I always get the feeling that you are smiling for own benefit, not mine.” Screwloose said.

“I’ll see you next week.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, now scowling.

Screwloose sat in her tiny rented room, staring at a sheet of paper scrawled over with words. She sighed, seemingly unhappy with what she saw. She had rewritten this a dozen times, and each time she felt a little worse about what she had written. Her roommate, Mint Jewelup, had thoughtfully brought her a cup of tea, which was now slightly cooled. She took a sip, and returned her gaze to the paper.

Was she attracted to mares? She didn’t know. She wasn’t attracted to Mint Jewelup. She had tried looking at Minty in that way, and there was nothing particularly interesting. Mint was simply a friend, a good friend, and the only friend she had.

Who was now out with her friend Parasol, after thoughtfully leaving the tea.

Screwloose scowled at the paper.

Single mare seeking something. I don’t know what. I am open to almost anything I guess. I don’t know what I want. I come with emotional baggage, so please be kind and gentle. I can’t deal with any more rejection. I like long walks. Howling at the moon. Dragging my backside through cool wet grass. Playing fetch. I like chasing things. I am sick of chasing my own tail, maybe I could chase yours. Must love squeaky toys.

It was the stupidest thing she had ever written. And she had once filled a notebook with over seven thousand copies of the word “bark” one time, not too long after learning how to write.

She couldn’t remember her life before being found. It was all blank. Just a dark gap. She had learned how to talk, how to write, how to read, she had learned how to be a pony.

She still didn’t feel like a pony though. Now matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t seem to fit in. Mint Jewelup didn’t expect her to fit in, which was comforting. Mint liked that she was different.

She glared at her personal ad. Honesty certainly wasn’t going to get her anywhere. She had left out the part about how she liked to chase wagons. Or bunnies. Or squirrels.

Sighing, she carelessly folded the paper and stuffed it into an envelope. Maybe it would make somepony laugh and feel better after a bad day. She took another sip of tea. Minty made good tea, she reflected. Always the right amount of honey. This particular cup was peppermint blended with red tea leaves.

She grimaced as she licked a stamp and stuck it on the envelope. She took another sip of tea to get the horrible taste out of her mouth. She had once heard a story about the glue on the back of the stamp, and that glue was made out of ponies. She shuddered. Her roommate in the asylum was awful.

She finished her tea with a few gulps and then rose up to go and place the envelope into the mailbox so she could place her ad in the paper.

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Nopony has replied to my personal ad and it has been two weeks.” Screwloose said, her eyes downcast.

“These things take time. The important thing is that you have made the effort.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

“Yeah, well, this effort has made me feel worse. This was a bad idea. I was totally honest, just as you suggested, and nothing has came of it. Ponies probably think of it as a joke.” Screwloose sniffled slightly, her eyes just beginning to water. She wiped her nose with her foreleg.

“I must say, you’ve been doing rather well in my opinion. You’ve been under some stress, dealing with some issues, and you’ve held together. No relapses, right?” Dr. Hornwinkle inquired.

Screwloose slowly nodded her head yes.

“How is your relationship with Mint Jewelup?” Dr. Hornwinkle asked.

“I’m not attracted to her if that is what you are wondering.” Screwloose replied. “I tried getting a few good looks at her. She caught me looking. I gave her an honest answer about what I was doing. She said she was flattered and winked at me.” Screwloose blushed, her ears turning several shades darker. “Now my roommate keeps strutting around the house, trying to look sexy.”

Dr. Hornwinkle chucked slightly as he made a note.

“I don’t know how to look sexy.” Screwloose said, causing the doctor to drop his pen. “I still don’t feel right in my own skin. How do I attract another pony if I don’t feel sexy, don’t know how to act sexy, and still can’t look at myself in a mirror without feeling some nausea? Who else would want to look at me if I can’t stand to look at my self. I don’t even comb my mane most days.” Tears began to trickle down her cheeks as she buried her face into her forelegs and cried.

“Screwloose, I cannot tell you my opinion about your appearance, but I can assure you that you will make somepony ridiculously happy. As I have stated, try to view yourself as others might view you. You shouldn’t be so harsh. You are a good and worthwhile mare. You have made a great deal of progress. And each day, I see you getting a little better.” Dr. Hornwinkle offered up a smile.

“I still don’t feel better.” Screwloose said.

“Our time is wrapping up Screwloose. I would like to ask you to sit down with your roommate and have a discussion about what you see in each other as friends. Can you do that for me?” Dr. Hornwinkle asked.

“Yes I can.” Screwloose said, nodding.

“Good. Remain positive.” Dr. Hornwinkle added.

When Screwloose returned home, she noticed that there was an envelope on her desk. She carefully tore it open and laid the paper down upon the desk to read it.

Meet me in Ponyville park Thursday after sun sets. I be near bench. By big brass clock. Sit on bench and have newspaper. Sorry for wording in letter. I not write good. Want to meet you!

She stared at the letter for several minutes, silent, unsure of what to do. It dawned on her that today was Thursday. She felt a rush of panic through her body, making her tail twitch. She gnawed on her lip. She started to feel sweaty just under her dock, a sure sign of being overly stimulated and nervous.

Screwloose wondered what she was going to do.

Author's Note

This was the only thing that would come out during my current wrangle with writer's block.

Chapter 2

Screwloose sat on the park bench, fidgeting nervously. The sun had set. She could hear the faint ticking of the large brass clock. Down the walkway, two mares shared a bench, talking together. She believed their names were Bon Bon and Lyra. They looked happy together.

Screwloose felt miserable. Her guts were twisted into knots, and her frogs were sweaty. She realised with some dismay that she hadn’t combed her mane or her tail before leaving the house. She was so nervous that she wanted to chase her own tail, an urge that she repressed.

She brushed her silver mane out of her eyes and huffed a sigh. Her stomach rumbled. She had forgotten to eat dinner. Dating was a bad idea she concluded. When she got nervous, she neglected to care for herself, and then she ended up in these situations. Hungry, nervous, scared, and wanting to chase her own tail.

It was not mentally healthy.

She nervously chewed on a hoof, one eye twitching slightly, her ear twitching in time with it. Her other ear rotated in a circle over and over, an endless loop.

“Pssst!”

The noise came from behind her. She dropped her newspaper clutched under her foreleg.

“You not what I expected,” the voice said, “not at all.”

“I’m not?” Screwloose said, not daring to look behind her into the bushes.

“I had weird idea that you were like me. And living with ponies. Somehow.” The voice seemed concerned. A bit frightened perhaps. The voice was rather deep and scratchy.

“What?” Said Screwloose, now very confused on top of being nervous.

“You see what I am, you promise not to scream?” The voice said, sounding rather hopeful. “I’m hiding in bushes. I talk with you. Seem interesting, for a pony.”

“You’re not a pony?” Screwloose said, feeling her dock becoming itchy and sweaty.

“Um… No. Not pony.” The voice replied. “But I not eat ponies!” The voice added, afraid.

“That’s comforting.” Screwloose answered, the itching in her dock nearly driving her mad. She rolled off of the bench and turned to face the bushes. They moved, rustling slightly.

“Do you have a name?” Screwloose asked.

“My name,” the voice said in low cautious tones, “is Fleagle.”

“Thank you. Now I have a name to scream out loud should you try to murder me or something in the bushes.” Screwloose said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

“If I like you, maybe we go drag butts through grass later.” Fleagle said, causing Screwloose to freeze in place.

“Whahuh?” Screwloose mumbled.

“I like butt dragging, you like butt dragging, we both like butt dragging, we should go drag racing.” Fleagle said in hopeful tones.

“Whahuh?” Screwloose repeated.

There was a chortle from in the bushes.

Screwloose willed her legs to move forward, plunging into the bushes, pushing past the trees and shrubbery, going deep into a hidden thicket.

In the middle of a small clearing, she saw a dog-like creature sitting on the ground, scratching his ear with a hind leg. Something that Screwloose did when nopony was looking. He was spotted and speckled, white, with tan and black markings.

“What are you?” Screwloose said in a whisper.

“I am a diamond dog. My name is Fleagle of the doghouse of Beagle.” Fleagle replied.

“You are not what I was expecting.” Screwloose said.

Fleagle chuckled quietly.

“I’m not what you were expecting either.” Screwloose said. “What brings you to Ponyville?”

“I live here.” Fleagle said, his long droopy ears perking slightly. “I live here and eat what silly ponies throw away. I read your newspapers. This place is great. Not like home.”

“Home?” Screwloose said, confused.

“Not welcome at home. I too smart. Annoy others. The big dogs kick me. Stay angry. Say I talk funny. Act funny. Not like other dogs. Got thrown out of pack.” Fleagle looked incredibly sad for a moment. “So I leave. See world. A griffon taught me how to read and write. Raised me from puppy. Good griffon. I leave home. Come here. Find paradise! Good garbage to eat. Free food.”

“I’m sorry.” Screwloose said.

“For what?” Fleagle replied.

“For what happened.” Screwloose explained.

“I not sorry.” Fleagle said. “Happy now. Also confused. Thought maybe I found another dog in papers. Was hoping to live in open.”

Screwloose nodded, unable to think of anything else to do.

“What do I call you?” Fleagle asked.

“Oh, I am sorry… I am Screwloose.” Screwloose said, flushing with embarrassment. “I am a little distracted. None of this is what I was expecting. I am a bit confused and lost.”

Fleagle nodded. “Me too.”

Screwloose studied the diamond dog in front of her. He wasn’t that large, not too much larger than her. He had a sad looking wrinkly face. Long drooping ears. A wrinkled brow. Hazel gold eyes. He did in fact, look very much like a beagle. He was also handsome she realised, feeling a sense of shock settle in. Her breath caught in her throat.

“This is very awkward.” Screwloose said.

“Tell me about it.” Fleagle replied. “All this time together and we not sniffed butts yet.”

“Oh!” Screwloose said, gasping. “Butts! Of course, how silly of me…” She said nervously.

“Ponies don’t sniff butts. They backwards.” Fleagle said. “But you nice for trying to make me feel good.”

Screwloose swished her tail, thinking about her sweaty dock. Butt sniffing! She had trouble taking it in. This night was turning out weird. She was seriously contemplating allowing a stranger to sniff her backside.

“You want to sniff my plot?” Screwloose said, blushing. “I mean, it is just saying hello, right? Nothing else?”

Fleagle nodded. “Just hi. Nothing else. We maybe do something else later. Like drag racing!”

“Alright then.” Screwloose said hesitantly, turning around and presenting herself, in her long life of insanity, somehow, this felt like the most rational thing she had ever done. It felt so natural that it scared her. It settled into the core of her being and filled an empty hole, leaving her feeling lost and confused, baffled, wondering what was different.

She froze completely when she felt a sniff back there. Her ears stopped twitching, her eye no longer ticked, her breath froze completely in her throat. She felt a series of sniffs back there, near a very delicate plate, a very intimate place, and she briefly wondered what in Tartarus she was doing allowing a stranger to sniff her most delicate and intimate places. Fleagle’s breath was warm, his sniffings picking up in pace, and she felt a tickle as Fleagle’s hot breath traveled over her loins.

She couldn’t help it, she giggled. And it wasn’t her usual nervous giggle, at least not entirely. There was a brief sensation of joy and pleasure.

After several moments, the sniffing stopped.

“You eat good.” Fleagle commented. “Smell nice. Real nice. Fleagle likes what he is sniffing.”

Screwloose felt a blush come boiling out of her barrel, up her neck, and settling into her cheeks. Another giggle escaped, followed by a nervous snort. She turned around to face Fleagle.

Who was not facing her. He was down on all fours, tail raised, presenting. Screwloose gasped. She supposed fair was fair. He appeared to be rather clean back there, all things considered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

She stepped forward and sniffed. A few cautious sniffs, trying to break the ice to speak, and then a few more sniffs, allowing her nose to rise and fall, sniffing different areas. There was an odd scent. It excited her. Her frogs once again felt sweaty. The odd scent sort of reminded her of black licorice.

“You like?” Fleagle asked, his tone worried.

Screwloose took a step back and opened her eyes. She saw Fleagle’s tail wagging. And other things as well, swaying and bobbing from the force of the wagging tail. Her blush intensified. “Yeah.” She replied in a low whisper.

Screwloose giggled again.

Fleagle turned to face her. “You not like other ponies.”

“I know. And it causes me nothing but trouble.” Screwloose replied. Her stomach rumbled loudly, causing Fleagle’s ears to perk.

“You want food?” Fleagle asked, his droopy face looking concerned.

“Oh, I dunno.” Screwloose said nervously.

“Wait here. I be back. Oh please be here when I get back.” Fleagle said as he turned tail and charged off into the bushes.

Screwloose did the only sane thing she could think of. She waited there, sitting in the clearing in the middle of some bushes. She also scratched behind her ear with a hindhoof, getting rid of a nervous itch. Her heart fluttered in her barrel. She briefly wondered if she needed her medication adjusted.

It didn’t take long for Fleagle to return. He had several loaves of bread, a wedge of cheese, a carton of berries, and several bruised looking apples carried in his forelegs as he walked in a bipedal fashion.

“I had to scrape mold off cheese. Still good under mold.” Fleagle said, smiling.

“You found all of this in the garbage?” Screwloose inquired.

“You silly ponies throw away good food. I eat like chief.” Fleagle said, grinning. He carefully laid his bounty out upon the ground. “Bread stale. Chewy! Nice to chew on.”

The tiny part of Screwloose’s mind that was the voice of her sanity found it self thumped on the back of its tiny little head by other parts of her mind. She tore into the feast as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

The two ate in silence, gnawing on bread, chewing on cheese, gobbling berries, and eating apples. The strawberries were slightly overripe, causing them to be soft and extra juicy, causing a huge mess.

It did not take long to consume the food, and when finished, both of them sat back and licked their chops in an oddly similar fashion.

“So…” said Fleagle, looking hopeful, “we go drag racing now?”

Author's Note

I think I got a sweaty frog from writing that.

Awkward interspecies romance ho!

Chapter 3

“You were out late last night.”

Screwloose pondered her roommate. She was smirking, and making no effort to hide it. Mint Jewelup was a terrible tease, and right now she pressed for every advantage. After sitting in silence for a while and not answering, Mint gave a saucy seemingly knowing wink.

Screwloose squeed nervously, squirming on the couch, very nearly spilling her orange juice. She felt a hot blush flood her face, the sort that made her ears change colour. She tried to calm and took a sip of orange juice through a straw.

“I figured that letter was somepony wanting to see you. You finally found somepony!” Mint said, smiling broadly, her eyes twinkling with merriment. “And nopony is out that late unless somepony likes them.”

“Yeah, somepony.” Screwloose said nervously.

“Well, who is it? Do I know them?” Mint said, bouncing in place on the couch next to Screwloose.

Screwloose felt a lump in her throat. Mint had always been so accepting of everything. Mint seemed to like her unconditionally. Mint had always been there. Always. Screwloose swallowed.

“I did not see a pony.” Screwloose blurted. “I saw a diamond dog. His name is Fleagle. We ate a dinner salvaged from garbage cans, drug our plots through the grass, and then spent some time moongazing.”

Mint Jewelup’s smile never wavered. “Ponies throw away too much food.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Screwloose said incredulously.

Mint nodded, bobbing enthusiastically.

“I’m seeing a dog. I’m relapsing into bad behaviours. Dr. Hornwinkle is going to be upset. I went barking last night.” Screwloose said, feeling her mind go in a million different directions at once.

“But you’re happy. Maybe you would actually be better off being a dog rather than continue to pretend you're a pony.” Mint said, her smile impossibly wide.

Screwloose recoiled as though she had been slapped.

“You alright honey bunches?” Mint said, seeing her friend’s distress.

“Pretending to be a pony…” Screwloose mumbled, her eyes no longer blinking in synch.

“Hold on to those marbles filly friend!” Mint encouraged. “There is no valid reason why you can’t love a diamond dog. Love is love is love. The way you are doesn’t make sense to ponies, but it probably makes a lot of sense to a dog.”

Screwloose felt a foreleg sliding around her shoulders and pulling her close.

“Just ease into this slowly Screwloose. Find a balance. Be happy. Be yourself, whomever you might be.” Mint said.

Screwloose nodded.

“I’m going to tell you something love.” Mint said, taking a deep breath. “I come from a suburb of Baltimare. A quiet sleepy perfect little suburb on the outskirts of the big city. All the houses look the same. A good quiet unicorn neighborhood.” Mint took another deep breath and shuddered. Her smile broke. “It was a very uptight place. Not at all like Ponyville. I was young. My mother caught me in bed with both a filly and a colt. My mother overreacted.”

Mint sighed and blew her mane out of her eyes.

“Do you know what pansexuality is?” Mint asked.

Screwloose shook her head no.

“In very simple terms, pansexuality is loving something for what it is. The mind. The body is just a shell. You love what is inside. Do you understand?” Mint asked, all traces of her usual humour gone, her face serious and a little sad. “The important thing is that you love.”

Screwloose nodded, slurping some orange juice through a straw.

“My mother had me locked away in a mental institution. My father did nothing to stop her. I had to undergo… ‘treatments’ to help me with my problem.” Mint scowled. “So I’ve been there, where you are now. Which is why I agreed to take you in when you got out. I was hoping to watch you blossom into whatever you were meant to be.”

“Did the treatments change what you are?” Screwloose said in a squeaky nervous voice.

There was a long silence, punctuated by a gentle brief kiss on Screwloose’s cheek.

“No love.” Mint said. “I endured, and when I was released, I healed from what they did to me. Nothing they did could make me stop loving. I love every pony I meet. Some more than others. For some, it is an emotional connection, for others, it is sexual.” Mint squeezed Screwloose and held her close. “For you, it is a shared sense of struggle. I understand what you are going through.”

“I thought Dr. Hornwinkle and others wanted to help me get better. This is confusing." Screwloose said, her face contorting with facial tics.

“They mean well. They want you to get better to the standard of what they consider is better. Sometimes, sadly, they do more harm than good.” Mint said slowly.

“How… Why…” Screwloose stammered.

“Dr. Hornwinkle isn’t that bad. He’s helped you in a lot of ways. You have good coping skills now. You’ve adjusted well to society. Really, he isn’t so bad. I know from experience.” Mint said, smiling sadly. There was another gentle kiss and a squeeze, and then Mint let go.

“Just go forward carefully, don’t rush into anything, and try to find a balance.” Mint offered. “And I’ll be here for you every step of the way. I love you, and want to see you happy.”

“Does being pansexual apply to other species?” Screwloose inquired.

“That is a good question. I’ve only ever been attracted to ponies. Maybe I should broaden my horizons and try a date outside my own species and test to see just how open minded I really am.” Mint said, looking thoughtful.

“We sniffed each other’s butts last night.” Screwloose said, red faced.

“Ooh exciting. That sounds exotic. I think I’ll try that the next time I see Thunderlane or Parasol. Any advice?” Mint said, leaning in, her ears perked.

“I had my eyes closed. It was strange. He smelled like black licorice.” Screwloose said, nodding slightly.

“We’ll I’ll be. I wonder what I smell like back there. Hey, mind sniffing back there and telling me?” Mint said, her tone back to being teasing.

Screwloose’s red blush merged with her blue pelt, causing her to turn an odd shade of purple, nearly from hoof to ear.

“Well, you were the one checking me out. That’s an invitation in my book.” Mint said, beaming broadly.

“We’re going to see each other again on Saturday.” Screwloose said. “I feel so nervous and weird.”

“More plot sniffing?” Mint asked.

“Maybe.” Screwloose said.

“I’d like to watch.” Mint said, sticking her tongue out after her words, being a tease.

Screwloose stood in her place of employment, a place that sold quills and sofas. There hadn’t been any customers for hours. The last customer had been Her Royal Highness Twilight Sparkle, who had purchased every quill in the shop. Screwloose was going to get quite a commission for that. She did every week.

It was an ideal job really.

She began to pace the store, walking in a circle around the showroom, her mind racing. Her boss, Davenport, was in the backroom, going over inventory. Normally, she didn’t mind the long hours spent standing around. It gave her time to think. Today, the hours felt long. She wanted it to be Saturday already.

“Screwloose?” Davenport said from the back room.

“Yes sir?” Screwloose answered.

“Good work selling five sofas in the past two weeks. There’s going to be an extra bonus for you in your next paycheck, and I’ll put in a good word with Dr. Hornwinkle. Splendid job. You’re a marvelous salespony.” Davenport shouted happily.

Screwloose felt an uncharacteristically broad smile burst out on her face.

“Go ahead and clock out. I’m closing early. I want to spend time with my family. And we never have customers on Friday.” Davenport called out from his back room.

Screwloose skipped and pranced to the stock room, checking out, and then left for the day. She emerged from the employee entrance into Ponyville, smiling. She actually felt like bursting from the inside.

And ponies seemed to notice. There were many nods and smiles in her direction. Her face wasn’t twitching nearly as much as it usually did. Waiting was growing unbearable.

“Hello there roomie.” Mint’s voice caused Screwloose to start.

“Oh hi!” Screwloose said cheerfully.

“I’m on my way to see Parasol and I saw you grinning like a lovesick fool. I had to say hello. You’re off early today.” Mint said in passing.

Screwloose nodded. “Go have some fun with Parasol.”

“Oh, I intend to do more than have fun with her.” Mint said, still hurrying along, now looking back over her shoulder at Screwloose and winking.

Screwloose felt a little confused, having the whole afternoon to herself, not knowing what to do. She didn’t want to go back home, hiding in her room. For once, she wanted to be out. Out with other ponies, perhaps even doing pony things. She took off at a trot, an unusual bounce in her step, heading off for Sugarcube Corner.

Screwloose sat in a cozy corner table in Sugarcube Corner, nursing a cupcake and a milkshake, her usual treat. Not knowing what else to do with her bits, she had opened a large store credit, paying ahead for many such treats, so she could stop in whenever she wanted for a bite to eat and not have to worry about carry bits, or saddlebags, or any sort of baggage at all.

“You look happy!” A voice chirped.

Screwloose turned to look at Pinkie Pie, who was smiling at her.

“I am.” Screwloose said in a shy reply.

“Good. You deserve to be happy Screwloose. You always look so sad.” Pinkie said, still smiling, her eyes as wide as her smile. She took a seat at the table acrossed from Screwloose. “So what’s made you so happy?” Pinkie said, leaning over the table.

“I went on a nice date.” Screwloose said, blushing slightly.

“Oh! Oh! Oh! That’ll do it! You found somepony!” Pinkie Pie squealed joyfully.

Screwloose nodded, not correcting Pinkie.

“Come to the bakery tomorrow night during your date. To the back. I’ll have treats for you.” Pinkie whispered conspiratorially.

“Whahow?” Screwloose said, nearly choking on her milkshake.

Pinkie Pie winked.

“How?” Screwloose inquired.

“Pinkie sense.” Pinkie Pie said, as though that explained everything. “We were going to throw out a bunch of stuff anyway. Somepony should get it.”

Screwloose fell silent, baffled.

“And don’t be shy. Just bring your friend by and say hello.” Pinkie said, winking again. She then bounced out of her seat and resumed her job, dancing around on her hooves, smiling at other customers.

Screwloose felt a momentary surge of panic, which she squashed down, determined to not let it ruin her day. Sooner or later, word would get out that she was dating. Fleagle’s cover might be blown. And there was no telling how the ponies might react to a diamond dog living in town. That could be dealt with later, she supposed. She wondered where he hid during the day.

Screwloose felt a giddy rush, the sugar she had eaten mixing with her burgeoning feeling of joy. Usually, her medication made her feel kind of blank inside. Today, she felt alive, like nothing could go wrong, and life was worth living.

It would be Saturday soon enough.

Author's Note

I suspect that pony pansexuality would be a bit different than human sexuality. Being able to love any species of any gender. That seems rather deep and involved. I can't help but wonder what the societal ramifications might be.

Chapter 4

Screwloose waited, sitting in the clearing where she had met Fleagle the night before. Once again, her frogs were sweaty and her dock itched. She was grinning, the tip of one ear twitching only slightly. Her blinking was was synchronised and in good time. She was feeling better than she had in a long, long time.

She had showered this time, cleaning herself up a bit, and Mint Jewelup had helped to tame her tangled mane. Her entire coat had been carefully brushed. She looked and felt better than she had in a long time.

The sun was setting, the shadows were lengthening, and the day was ending. Saturday had felt impossibly long. Long enough to drive a pony mad… Screwloose giggled at her inner reflection.

Tonight, if things went well, she and Fleagle would sneak their way over to Sugarcube Corner, in the back, where Pinkie would meet them and give them some food. At least that was the plan. After that, the night was open to all manner of possibilities.

She thought briefly about moving things out into the open, into broad daylight, and was interrupted by a rustle in the bushes.

Fleagle!

She turned away from him, flicking her tail, and presenting.

She heard and felt enthusiastic sniffing. “Hi!” Fleagle said, excitement in his voice. More sniffing, closer, warm breath flowing over delicate places. She felt herself clinch and tighten, her dock twitching slightly, the tickle of hot breath causing a flood of emotions that she could not name. She felt her own breath in her throat, hot and laboured, and her tongue suddenly felt too large for her mouth.

There was a touch of a cold wet nose along the curve of her backside.

The goose sent her leaping forward with a giggle. She whirled, facing Fleagle, giggling and blushing a deep purple once again. “Hi there.” She said, offering a smile.

Fleagle turned, and she returned the favour, sniffing carefully, too shy to ‘accidentally’ goose Fleagle in return. He was wagging his tail. Screwloose found that her own tail was wagging.

Afterward, they stood, nose to nose, looking at one another.

“You pretty.”

Screwloose melted, losing her ability at coherent speech. She smiled self consciously, a broad embarrassed grin, unable to say or do anything but wag her tail from side to side. She felt the overwhelming urge to bark.

Fleagle’s canine smile didn’t bother Screwloose. His pointed fangs should have bothered her, some voice deep within her mind warned, but that voice was easy to ignore. Sanity had always been the quiet almost impossible to hear voice.

“Want something to eat?” Screwloose asked.

“We go digging in trash again?” Fleagle said.

Screwloose shook her head no. “No, tonight, if you feel safe, we go and meet a pony I know. She’s offered to give us some food.”

“Somepony knows about us?” Fleagle said, his voice full of concern.

“She figured it out somehow. Pinkie sense.” Screwloose said.

“Oh. Pink pony. Seen her. She’s nice.” Fleagle said, still looking concerned. “I think she puts extra stuff out in trash for me. Nice stuff.”

Screwloose nodded. Pinkie Pie seemed like a nice pony. Pinkie had talked to her when other ponies wouldn’t, long ago, when she had first got out.

“Fleagle, at some point, we need to be out in the open together.” Screwloose said. “In the day time. Where other ponies can see us.”

“Ponies maybe chase me away.” Fleagle said in a low worried tone.

“I’ll not let them.” Screwloose said, feeling uncharacteristically confident.

“You do that?” Fleagle asked, surprised.

Screwloose nodded.

“We start now.” Fleagle said. “No hide. We go to pink pony. Have meal.”

Screwloose nodded, feeling extraordinarily brave. “Yes. Stay close to me Fleagle.”

“How close?” Fleagle said, wagging both his tail and his eyebrows.

Screwloose almost collapsed from the giggles. “Not quite as close as earlier when you nosed me.” She willed her legs to move and she led the way, crawling through the bushes, emerging onto the path, near the brass clock.

Fleagle skulked near her, on her left, cringing. His tail was between his legs, head down, eyes darting from side to side.

Screwloose saw Bon Bon and Lyra on their bench, Lyra sitting in her most peculiar way. Both of them waved. Screwloose cautiously waved back, waiting for something, anything to happen.

And nothing did. Other than a friendly wave.

Screwloose marched forward, her legs feeling stiff, her ears laid back. The itching in her dock was enough to drive her mad. She wanted nothing more than to drag her plot along the path, hoping to be rid of that infernal itch. She ignored it and continued onward, a near maniacal grin ripping apart her face, her teeth clenched together. Fleagle fell into pace with her, walking on all fours, his long svelte beagle like body heaving with nervous breathing.

Nopony stopped to bother the pair. There were some curious stares, some double takes, a few concerned glances, but they remained unmolested as they cautiously walked through the town, in the dark, making their way to Sugarcube Corner. Halfway there, Fleagle had begun to cautiously wag his tail in a seemingly hopeful way.

This seemed almost too good to be true.

“Just stay close.” Screwloose encouraged as she led the way.

They walked past Sofas and Quills, past the spa, past a few cafes were ponies sat outside, having a late supper in the cool of the evening. Ponies pointed, some leaned over and whispered something to the pony next to them, and while others openly stared.

But nopony stopped them.

After many tense minutes, they reached Sugarcube Corner. They walked around to the rear, where Pinkie Pie was waiting for them.

“Hi!” Pinkie squealed. “I knew you’ve been around but you were hiding, and I thought that was for the best.” Pinkie said, nodding at Fleagle. “No more hiding though. We’re friendly. I think.” Pinkie added.

“This is Fleagle.” Screwloose said sheepishly.

“And this is dinner.” Pinkie said, pointing to a cardboard box, tied with string. “I packed some baked goods, some sandwiches, a few bottles of fizzy fruity soda, and some freshly made cherry turnovers.”

“Thank you Pinkie Pie. I don’t know what to say.” Screwloose whispered, feeling an odd sensation travel through her body.

“Just say you’ll be my friend and smile for me?” Pinkie returned. “Pretty please?”

Screwloose smiled. “Thank you for being my friend. I don’t have many of those.”

“Well now you have one more!” Pinkie quipped, bouncing in place.

“Thank you.” Fleagle said, his voice low and raspy, his hound dog eyes wide and full of emotion.

Pinkie Pie leapt forward and hugged Fleagle, pulling him in tight for a moment, before letting go and then hugging Screwloose. “Good luck to both of you.”

Pinkie set the box upon Screwloose’s back, allowing her to shift it around a bit to find balance, and then watched them as they went along their way. Pinkie waved one last time, watching them disappear around a corner.

A white unicorn came out from behind some crates and boxes, looking shocked and stunned.

“That is exactly what I thought it was.” Rarity said, her eyes wide. She flounced her mane away from her eyes.

“Sure was.” Said Pinkie, still bouncing around in place. “They seem so happy together.”

“They most certainly do.” Replied Rarity in cultured tones. “Look at them. I would have never believed it unless I saw it for myself. And that Fleagle seems pleasant enough, compared to the rest of those horrible diamond dogs.”

Pinkie nodded.

“Pinkie dear?” Rarity inquired.

“Yeah Rarity?” Pinkie replied.

“Little moments like these remind me of what the six of us fight for.” Rarity answered, smiling, her head held high.

The two sat eating in a quiet spot intended for picnics, neither one saying much, neither one entirely sure what to say. Both were quietly stunned at the acceptance they had witnessed, and Fleagle was stunned by his companion.

Screwloose couldn’t help but notice how Fleagle’s eyes lingered over her. It made her blush, heat burning through her features, but more importantly, she started to wonder if this is what it felt like to be attractive. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, making it difficult to eat. Difficult to swallow.

The cherry turnovers were somewhat overstuffed, causing filling to dribble out everywhere. There was a lot of licking of chops. Screwloose couldn’t help but feel that this had been intentional on Pinkie’s part.

Screwloose froze, realising that Fleagle was inches away from her. He had leaned forward, closer, smiling at her, causing her to drop her gaze. She lifted her gaze again, and there he was, leaning closer.

“Uh… Hi…” Screwloose stammered.

“Something on snout.” Fleagle said, leaning in so close that Screwloose could feel him breathing on her. Something warm and wet pressed against her muzzle for a moment and she heard a slurp just below her ear.

Screwloose realised she had just been licked. What was the proper social etiquette for being licked? Pony society didn’t have anything that paralleled, nothing to compare to. Only a very silly pony went and licked another pony. It just wasn’t done.

Which is why Screwloose felt something in her mind pop when she licked Fleagle back, her orange tongue only barely catching a brief flick over his nose.

Fleagle seemed just as surprised by Screwloose’s response. “Something on nose?” Fleagle questioned.

“No.” Screwloose said shyly, turning away, her ears flooding with hot blood and turning a shade of puce, her eyes half opened, her nostrils flaring.

“Oh.” Fleagle said, his droopy ears perking upwards slightly, as much as droopy ears might go, his saggy hound face looking hopeful. He bit into a cherry turnover and chewed thoughtfully. After many moments of silently chewing and looking at Screwloose, he swallowed and spoke: “You licked Fleagle.”

“Yeah I did.” Screwloose said with her mouth full, feeling a shudder travel through her body that started in her dock, traveled up her spine, and escaped in the form of a nervous teehee that left her feeling breathless and weak.

“My kind not have romance.” Fleagle said abruptly. “Do not know what I am doing. We do not date like ponies do. Been watching pony dates for a long time. Very confusing.”

“How so?” Screwloose asked.

“Well, my kind, we sniff butts and make choice. Dog grabs bitch and makes puppies. Or does not. No silly dating. No meals. No chit chat.” Fleagle commented. “Very direct.”

“I see.” Screwloose said.

“I like dating. Talking. Getting to know pretty pony.” Fleagle said. “Fleagle does not belong with his kind.” Fleagle added sadly.

“You really think I am pretty?” Screwloose inquired, feeling beads of moisture breaking out on her frogs.

“Me likes you.” Fleagle said shyly. “Fleagle not like other dogs. Me clean. Keep white parts white. Take bath. Like looking nice. Ponies look nice too. But you look pretty.”

Screwloose felt sweat beginning to dribble just under her dock, in that horrible itchy place. Her tail twitched. She also felt herself sweating just behind her ears, causing them to flicker wildly. She hated feeling hot and sweaty. She was always hot and sweaty. Was it just the way she was, or was it a side effect of the medication? She didn’t know.

“I do not belong with my kind. I feel that way sometimes. I feel more like a dog. They found me one day. The ponies that is. They found me one day, chasing my tail in the woods. I don’t really remember any of that though. But I behaved like a wild dog and they worked very hard to make me a pony again.” Screwloose said. “Now, I want to be a dog again.”

“Just be Screwloose.” Fleagle said, shrugging. “Forget about dog or pony.”

“I don’t know who Screwloose is, or where Screwloose came from.” Screwloose replied.

“Forget about that. Just be who Screwloose is now.” Fleagle said, straining the limits of his intelligence, searching for words to say. “There is only now. Dog thinking. Be happy now, wag tail.”

Screwloose nodded. “I think you’re right.” She silently resolved to make a few changes.

“Fleagle says we clean this up, smile, and go chase fireflies. Not eat them, just chase them. Make troubles go away.” Fleagle said with a canine smile.

“I’d love to.” Screwloose said.

Author's Note

Only a very silly pony would lick another pony. Who is a silly pony?

Chapter 5

Screwloose sat in her bed, thinking about the night before, and staring at the prescription bottles on her bedside. Last night had been downright magical. The reality of the morning, not so much. The pills she was required to take beckoned to her, imploring her to be reasonable and responsible.

With a quiet sigh, she bucked responsibility and reason.

This would be the first morning in several years that she didn’t take her pills. She was genuinely curious as to what might happen. She didn’t know. She thought about what Mint Jewelup had told her. What if the pills were utterly unnecessary? What if they had been prescribed to her with good intentions… Could a pony be a dog in pony skin? Her mind reeled. The questions filling her brain caused a painful sense of confusion.

There was nagging sense of something wrong. Clearly, there had been something wrong with her. She couldn’t remember any part of her life before being found. So there was evidence of something. Illness? Mental illness? Was it actually evidence? She didn’t know and couldn’t say. Evidence of something ambiguous wasn’t really evidence of anything tangible, a quiet part of her mind said, one of the parts that whispered softly to her on occasion. She trusted that whispering voice. It rarely spoke, but when it did, it cut through and silenced the other voices.

She worried briefly about her internal dialogue. Was that normal? Was there really a difference between hearing voices and having an internal dialogue? What about ponies who claim to hear their good conscience telling them what to do? Were they mad as well? Did they take pills to silence the the voice of reason?

She lashed out with her hoof, knocking the pill bottles to the floor.

After a moment of sitting and fidgeting on the bed, she got down on the floor and picked them up, placing them back upon the bedside table. But she did not take any. The lids remained sealed on the tiny plastic bottles, the pills remained inside, and the voices remained active.

She stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen, nearly tripping near the bottom, her hooves thudding loudly as she slid down the last few steps. She clattered onto the kitchen tile floor and held still, hoping she wouldn’t wake her roommate.

Which was nothing to be concerned about. Screwloose let out a startled yelp as two legs wrapped around her neck and squeezed, and she felt two lips press against her face, just below her ear.

“Hi there sunshine. Have a nice night?” Mint Jewelup said, still hanging from her neck. “I really like earth ponies. So delightfully solid and nice to hang a hug from.” She let go of Screwloose and sat down at the kitchen table.

Screwloose stood there at a loss for words. The side of her face was damp. She raised an eyebrow.

“You checked out my plot. Now I get to kiss your adorable face in the mornings. Sometimes. When the mood strikes me.” Mint said, pouring a second glass of orange juice and sticking a straw in it. “I might even crawl into your bed one night and cuddle you a bit. Nothing too serious.” Mint added the last sentence when she saw the look of startled concern on Screwloose’s face.

Screwloose sat down at the table and took a sip through her straw. She smelled tea brewing. There was a plateful of zucchini, carrot, and parmesan muffins on the table.

“So how was last night?” Mint asked, beginning to prepare the tea without leaving the table, her magic filling the kitchen with a serene blue glow.

“I might need a cuddle soon.” Screwloose said groggily between sips of her orange juice.

Mint raised an eyebrow. Her roommate was usually rather reserved. This was new.

Screwloose yawned and blinked at the tea being set out in front of her. She looked at Mint Jewelup, her eyes narrowed, one nostril twitching slightly. After drawing a deep breath, she spoke: “I can tell you anything right?”

Mint nodded, stirring honey into the tea.

“I did not take my pills this morning.” Screwloose confessed.

Mint said nothing, but looked at her friend intently, waiting.

“I don’t know how I am without the pills. What if there really isn’t anything wrong with me?” Screwloose questioned. “Everything I think I know is all muddled up right now. I do not understand who or what I am. I feel like I am in the wrong body. I feel like I am not myself. I want to stop taking the pills for a while and see what I am like on my own.”

“Alright.” Mint said. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. If you fall, I’ll catch you. If you can take off running, I’ll run with you. Either way, you’ll have me.”

Screwloose blushed slightly.

“Feeling like you are not in the right body isn’t that uncommon.” Mint said in low tones. “There are ponies that feel that way. Some of them males, some of them female. In Manehatten, there is a hospital that performs gender reassignment surgery. Stallions become mares and vice versa. Before going through the change, many of them feel they are in the wrong body. Many suffer through mental illness. Many take pills, trying to be normal. Some even try to kill themselves because they feel like they just don’t fit into the herd.”

Screwloose pondered her roommate’s words.

“I met a lot of these ponies during my recovery. Even loved a few of them, in those first few awkward steps were I really set out to discover my self. My adolescent explorations only satisfied so much of my curiousity. I’ve loved mares who used to be stallions. I’ve loved stallions that used to be mares. It taught me that the body is a flexible shell, like molded clay, a projection of what lies inside, a hint of what lies within, but it is really only a shell. Perhaps the body is comparable to clothing. And clothing can be changed. The pony on the inside is important, no matter how they might be dressed on the outside.”

Mint smiled and then sipped her tea.

“I learned to look past whatever a pony might be wearing at the moment and love them for what they are when they are truly naked.” Mint giggled and blushed slightly. “My metaphors are really awful, sorry.”

“No. They’re comforting.” Screwloose whispered, her voice husky with emotion. Screwloose grabbed a muffin and started nibbling tiny careful bites.

“It is going to be painful.” Mint warned.

Screwloose nodded.

“Dr. Hornwinkle isn’t going to approve.” Mint cautioned.

Screwloose nodded, taking another bite and chewing on a chewy matchstick of shredded carrot from the muffin. After swallowing, she took a long sip of tea. Green tea blended with ginger.

“And I’d be careful what you tell him.” Mint said at last.

“I will.” Screwloose said, muffin crumbs on her lips.

“You are adorable when you eat Screwloose. I really feel very attracted to you right now.” Mint Jewelup said, looking Screwloose in the eye.

Screwloose stammered wordlessly and broke eye contact, staring down at the muffins.

“Don’t worry. It remains platonic for the time being. But I really do feel the desire to be close to you. Just like we are right now.” Mint said, winking suggestively.

“Alright.” Screwloose squeaked. “Are the lines of our friendship blurring?”

“There are lines?” Mint asked. “Nopony told me. I love without boundaries. My friends and those I love are indistinguishable. Don’t worry Screwloose, for all of my teasing, I wouldn’t actually put any moves on you. Right now, you are too fragile and vulnerable. Later though, if you ever check me out again, I might try. But only if you send a very clear signal as an invite first.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Screwloose replied with a nervous giggle.

“Now, when are you going to invite your friend over so we can have a meal together?” Mint asked, raising an eyebrow and blowing her mane out of her eyes.

“Um, actually, I’ve already done that. Dinner. Tonight. I was going to meet him in the park and bring him here.” Screwloose replied. “We went out in the open last night. Ponies saw us. Nothing happened. So I was thinking that tonight, I would bring Fleagle here and we could all eat together.”

“Tonight I was going to have Parasol over to have supper with us.” Mint said. “But don’t you worry. Our table seats four. Parasol is a very open minded pony, I know she wouldn’t mind.”

“Is Parasol like you?” Screwloose asked.

“Not exactly, no. She’s into mares… And she’s having some issues. She was raised by very strict parents who have told her that loving mares is wrong, and they have hurt her a great deal. I’m trying to walk her through the rough patch.” Mint said. “She came to Ponyville to get away from her parents. We still have some trouble here, but Ponyville is a haven for those who are different.”

“I will bring Fleagle over to dine with us.” Screwloose said. “Maybe it would be good for all of us to be together. Sounds like we all have something in common.”

Mint nodded and then gulped her tea. She poured another cup and added honey. She picked up her fresh cup and took a careful sip.

“Since we are very close and intimate friends now, would it bother you if I sniffed your backside?” Screwloose asked. “In a platonic way of course.”

Mint Jewelup sprayed her tea all over the floor, her eyes going wide with shock. “Whaaahuh?”

“Well, it started out really awkward and weird, but it is really rather pleasant.” Screwloose said with a grin.

“You!” Mint cried. “You’re teasing me. I don’t think you’ve ever done that before. You’ve changed!”

Screwloose tittered faintly and blushed. “I don’t know what has come over me.”

“I don’t either, but I like it. Will you look at that mess.” Mint said, slightly annoyed but still laughing. “There really is something different about you this morning. Maybe this change will do you good.”

“I had a really magical night last night. I feel good. I feel changed.” Screwloose said.

“Is that so?” Mint inquired.

“Yes. Last night was wonderful. We had a picnic that Pinkie Pie provided for us, we chased fireflies, we went for a swim, found a secluded hollow and howled at the moon together, he licked me during our picnic…”

“Wait!” Mint said, interrupting. “You got licked?”

“Yeah.” Screwloose said, melting into her chair.

“So this was your first lick then.” Mint said, her tone teasing, a smile spreading.

“Something like that. He pressed his nose into my ear and sniffed it like a flower while we were howling.” Screwloose tittered.

“So you are moving right along.” Mint Jewelup commented.

“It just feels right.” Screwloose admitted. “Feels natural somehow.”

“Well try not to rush things.” Mint warned. “Take things slow. Enjoy this first time. Make it last, squeeze out every moment you can, savour every new experience, and try to learn as much as possible.”

Screwloose nodded.

“And most important thing of all…” said Mint, “is that you tell me all of the steamy details. If you feel comfortable that is. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.”

Screwloose chortled, an odd sound, a choked back full belly laugh that got caught in her throat. She took a long pull from her teacup, trying to clear her throat.

“Diamond dogs do not have romance.” Screwloose said slowly, her tone turning serious. “Fleagle has no idea what to do or how to do it. I am utterly clueless about romance as well. I’m really afraid that something will go wrong. I don’t want this to end. We’re both so happy.”

Mint set down her teacup and gazed at her friend. “Screwloose, if you ever need advice, about anything, and I do mean anything, you know you can come to me, right?”

Screwloose nodded.

“Now, I don’t know the first thing about dog and pony romances, but I know an awful lot about loving whatever is on the inside. And that is what is important. If you ever feel stuck, don’t sit in your room and fret. You come to me, and we both work on getting you unstuck. I’m not going to let you mess this up Screwloose.” Mint said, staring at her roommate and best friend.

Screwloose nodded and began to tear up a little. She took a long sip of tea and pulled another muffin to her plate. “You are the best friend a confused pony could hope for.” She said, meeting Mint’s gaze.

Author's Note

And now, we delve into some very difficult topics about sexuality. I'd love to hear some opinions. Let me know what you think. Hey, bring friends, have them read, get them into the debate.

Any really profound or worthwhile bits might even be incorporated into the story later.

I understand that this is a very sensitive subject, so I really have tried to handle it with kid gloves, with out candy coating anything or holding back. I intend for things to become rather frank later. Hold on.

Chapter 6

Two ponies, one pony that was starting to believe it might actually be a dog, and one dog sat around the dinner table, all looking at one another. Fleagle seemed shy and nervous, Screwloose was blushing every time she looked at Fleagle or her roommate, Parasol was grinning sheepishly at Mint Jewelup, and Mint Jewelup was having the time of her life.

Mint was utterly in love with every being sitting at her table. She loved Parasol in a hot and steamy sort of way, she loved Screwloose in a best friend sort of way, and she loved Fleagle simply because he made Screwloose happy, and Mint believed that Screwloose deserved to be happy.

Dinner was simple fare. Homemade macaroni and cheese, extra extra cheese, smashed potatoes loaded down with butter, sauteed broccoli and cauliflower, and a rather spicy black bean dish.

If there was going to be romance tonight, it would be announced with the blaring of trumpets, Mint thought to herself, giggling internally, secretly pleased with her fiendish dinner plan. Tonight, love would be tested.

Fleagle clumsily held a spoon in his paw, grasping it to the best of his ability. He took a few careful bites, looking around, worried about what others might think.

Screwloose tore in with reckless abandon, which was unusual for her, as she was usually a slow careful eater.

Fleagle, watching Screwloose, sighed deeply, but continued his struggle, slow careful bites, trying to remember what his adoptive parent had taught him.

Mint carefully levitated a spoon and fed Parasol a bite of smashed potatoes.

“Screwloose tells me you were raised by a griffon.” Mint said around a bite of broccoli.

Fleagle nodded and swallowed before replying: “Yes. Nice griffon raised me. Took me in. Was good to Fleagle.”

Mint turned to Parasol. “This only further proves my point I was trying to make earlier. I think Screwloose makes a great point. Species shouldn’t matter either, just like gender shouldn’t. Fleagle was raised by a griffon and look at him, he turned out fine.” Mint tapped the side of her head with her spoon. “All that really matters is what we are up here.”

Parasol looked at Fleagle. “Did you ever feel confused about being raised by a griffon?” She asked.

Fleagle remained silent and thoughtful, chewing on some beans before answering: “When Fleagle was little yes. That went away. Hookbill was father. Had feathers. Cat. Didn’t matter.” Fleagle wracked his brain for a few moments. “Left Fleagle with cat-like need for bath.”

“You have such lovely white fur.” Screwloose said in a low whisper.

“Hard to keep clean.” Fleagle replied, taking a bite of macaroni, struggling with the stringy cheese stretching between his spoon and his plate.

“Maybe I could help you out in the bathtub.” Screwloose said straightforwardly, grinning with an almost awkward embarrassed look on her face.

Fleagle nearly choked on his macaroni.

“Screwloose, what has gotten into you?” Mint asked, blushing slightly at her friend.

“I dunno...” said Screwloose, “but I like it. And I can think of something else I might want in me.”

Mint Jewelup tittered coquettishly.

“Fleagle feels warm. Is warm in here, yes?” Fleagle asked, his breath short, his tail wagging round and round in a circle.

“I’m certainly feeling warm.” Parasol said, stretching her leg out under the table and rubbing Mint Jewelup’s leg with her own.

“Something is rubbing my leg.” Screwloose said. “Is that you Minty?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and gazing at her roommate.

Parasol blushed, but said nothing.

“I think I would know if I was rubbing your leg.” Mint Jewelup replied. “Not fair. Nopony is playing hoofsies with me under the table.”

“Well, I felt a hoof, not a paw.” Screwloose said with a faint chuckle.

Both Screwloose and Mint Jewelup looked over at Parasol, who was trying to sink into her chair. “Whoops.” Parasol said with a soft smile.

Fleagle let out a chortling wheeze.

“I feel really good.” Screwloose announced. “Better than I have felt in a long time.” She gave a pointed look at Mint and half smiled.

“Fleagle was lonely, hiding in town full of ponies. Nice to have company.” Fleagle said, nodding, stuffing some beans and macaroni into his mouth and licking the spoon.

“Where are you staying?” Parasol asked.

“There is abandoned shack out by train station.” Fleagle said. “Nice shack. No leaks in roof. Wood floor. Nopony ever goes there. Shrubs grow up all around on all sides. Window is broken though.”

“That sounds a little rough.” Mint said, her voice full of concern.

“Fleagle likes it.” Fleagle replied. “Me sometimes sleep out in woods in grass under stars. Not need much to be happy.”

“Do I make you happy?” Screwloose blurted out suddenly. “I’ve been wondering.”

“Fleagle very happy.” Fleagle said in a low raspy voice. “Fleagle still wondering why he so lucky.”

Screwloose took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She felt a hoof on her shoulder and turned and looked at Mint. “Woah there little filly.” Mint said, looking her in the eye. “Slowly.”

Screwloose nodded.

Fleagle looked at Screwloose, his hound dog face drooping but somehow still looking happy, even through all of the sad looking wrinkles and folds.

“Were we ever this sappy?” Parasol said, looking at Mint Jewelup.

“We’re still this sappy,” said Mint, “if I am doing my job right.”

“Puppy love.” Parasol said. “You hear about those first crushes all the time. But I never thought I’d see actual puppy love.”

Mint tittered while both Screwloose and Fleagle exchanged embarrassed glances around the table. Fleagle carefully spooned some potatoes into his jowls, licking the leftover potatoes from the spoon. Screwloose had shaped her potatoes into a heart shape on her plate. She planted a broccoli stalk into the middle, forming a nice little tree. She spooned a bite of macaroni, scooping up a cauliflower with her bite. She jammed it into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully.

“I never thought I’d be doing this. Or feeling this.” Parasol said suddenly. “Sitting around a table. Like this. Eating dinner. Being happy. Feeling like I am part of a family again. Even though I just met Fleagle.” A tear welled up in the corner of her eye. “After my falling out with my parents, I never thought I’d feel this way again. Hurt so much.” She sniffled. Mint reached over and rubbed her shoulder with a hoof. Parasol scrubbed at her eyes with a foreleg, while Fleagle’s tail wagged behind his chair.

“I think I feel normal.” Screwloose said. “I have no clue what normal is, but I think I might be feeling it. Scares me a little.”

“This is good.” Mint said. “I wanted everypony and everydoggy to come together and be friends, ignoring whatever differences we might have.” She turned to Fleagle. “And if you ever need anything to eat, or just get lonesome, stop by. If somepony is home, our door is always open.”

Fleagle nodded in gratitude.

“Everydoggy?” Screwloose said, savouring the word. “I like the way that sounds. Has a nice style.”

The innuendo hovered in the air for several moments before it exploded like a grenade. Parasol nearly choked on her food. Mint’s eyes went wide, her pupils becoming pinpricks. Fleagle made a flatulent sound as his jowls flapped from his exasperated gasp, his brows extra wrinkled as his eyes widened alarmingly. Mint finally recovered from her shock enough to begin chortling, covering her muzzle with her foreleg.

Screwloose giggled. “I made a funny.”

“I’ll say.” Mint said, still in shock. “That was hilarious, especially coming from you.”

Parasol coughed a few times and then smiled. She cautiously took another bite, worried about another concussive blast from an innuendo grenade. She chewed on a massive head of broccoli.

“I’m so much in love right now.” Mint announced. “I almost don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Love?” Fleagle asked.

“Mint Jewelup loves everything she meets.” Parasol explained. “Unconditionally. Or she tries to do so. There are a few ponies she doesn’t like, but she claims to still love them, even though she hates what they do.”

“I don’t claim anything.” Mint sniffed. “I can love somepony or whomever it might be and not like what they do. Like my former therapist. She did bad things, but I still loved her.”

“Fleagle confused.” Fleagle stated.

“Love is a choice. And I choose to love. Everything. Everyone. In different ways. There is physical love. And emotional love. And a million variations in between. And I want to feel them all.” Mint Jewelup said. “There is so much hate in the world. I don’t know if I can change the world, but I can change my self. And I choose to love.”

“Me think me understand.” Fleagle said thoughtfully. “Fleagle chooses love too.” Fleagle struggled for words. “Life needs meaning. Love is meaning. Fleagle chooses meaningful things. Not a dumb dog. Must make meaning or find meaning, or else, what is point of having mind?”

“No Fleagle, you are not a dumb dog.” Mint Jewelup said. “You’re smarter than a lot of ponies I know.” Mint winked at Fleagle.

Screwloose leaned over in her chair and planted a kiss on Fleagle’s jowls, moving quickly, before he had a chance to react. Fleagle responded by sitting there, stunned into silence.

Parasol sniffled. “That was beautiful.” She said in a low whisper. “I understand now why Mint Jewelup loves everything. I think my eyes opened a bit.”

“Fleagle likes thinking about things. Like chewing on bone. Never pony bone though. Take effort and time to wear down whatever you chew on. Thinking same way. Time and effort.” Fleagle said, a hint of concern in his voice. “Fleagle never eat anything that talk.”

“You can’t change what you are.” Mint said, understanding. “You do what you need to do in whatever way you see fit about doing it.”

“Fleagle would die if me killed something with voice.” Fleagle whined. “Would be bad dog.” His tail drooped and his face took on extra sag. “Was so afraid of being seen by ponies. Diamond dogs sometime eat ponies. Or anything else. Fleagle cannot eat something that say no. Not belong with other dogs.”

“You have a place with us.” Mint said. “I mean that.”

Fleagle nodded.

“I feel giddy.” Parasol said. “Light headed. Like I’m slightly drunk. I think I’m euphoric.”

“Wait till after dinner…” Mint trailed off suggestively, waggling her eyebrows saucily at Parasol. “That reminds me. Dessert. I made a blueberry cheesecake.”

“So if I say yes, you’ll nibble me?” Screwloose said to Fleagle, grinning a lopsided grin, one eye slightly wider than the other.

“Are you offering to be dessert?” Mint Jewelup snarked, not wanting to be outdone by her friend.

“Screwloose and blueberry topping?” Fleagle said, raising one wrinkled eyebrow.

Screwloose’s ears turned purple. “Normally I would be dying right now. Or I’d be a puddle under the table. Or hiding in my room. But tonight, I’m letting go.” Screwloose let go a nervous titter and blinked rapidly.

“Easy there love.” Mint said, her joviality now gone, replaced with a hint of concern. “Foal steps. Don’t push ahead to far too fast.” She touched Screwloose’s cheek gently. “Maybe I spoke out of turn.”

“I’m tired of being dead to everything.” Screwloose said in an odd monotone. “Just feeling nothing. Nothing at all but therapeutically approved emotions that I barely feel at all. I want to be shocked. I want to be uncomfortable. I want to be embarrassed. I want to just feel something. Anything. I want to struggle through something awkward. I’m tired of being dead.” Screwloose began to rock back and forth in her chair, her mane bobbing slightly, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“I’ve been there.” Parasol said darkly.

“So have I.” Mint added. “It took me a long time to get to that point. You’re doing good Screwloose. Just hang on and things will get better.”

“Can Fleagle help?” Fleagle said, his houndish face full of concern, the sort of concerned look only a hound could make.

Mint turned to look at Fleagle. “Be her friend. Help me get her through this rough patch. She’s made some brave decisions, and it isn’t going to be easy for her.”

“Fleagle can do that.” Fleagle said. “Me having trouble understanding all this though. Understand or not, Fleagle loyal.”

Parasol nodded. “I’m glad to know you Fleagle.”

“Alright, enough moping. I’m serving cheesecake. No more sad stuff. Any sad pony or dog is going to be blueberried. And there is only one way to get blueberries out of your pelt.”

Screwloose tittered. “Those whom the alicorns wish to destroy they first make mad.” She grinned a manic grin.

“Oh Screwloose… What am I going to do with you?” Mint Jewelup said.

“I need to be loved.” Screwloose said.

“Fleagle, I’m holding you responsible for that.” Mint said, raising an eyebrow at Fleagle.

“Need blueberries.” Fleagle said, causing three mares to giggle like school fillies.

“I’m not going mad. I think I’m going normal. I don’t know what is worse.” Screwloose said as Mint served the cheesecake. “It is a little overwhelming.”

Parasol rubbed her belly. “I don’t know about the blueberry cheesecake, but I know I’ll be having tribadism à la skidmarks later.”

Author's Note

Another chapter! Yay!

If you like it, fave it. Or hit the thumbs up button. I'd really like for this to see just a tiny bit of popularity. It deals with some very frank subject matter. I'd like to think it is one of my better pieces of work.

And I'd love to hear what you have to say about the subjects found in this story. Privately or openly, my line of communication lies open. To talk about the story, or to just talk if you are struggling through these sorts of issues and need a friend.

Chapter 7: Screwloose and the Philosopher's Throne

It was the second morning without medication. She had stared long and hard at the plastic bottles on her bedside table. Her internal dialogue was short and brief. And now, she was continuing with her day, sans medication. She felt oddly calm, much more so than usual, but she also felt oddly agitated. Her mind felt unusually active. Thoughts buzzed through her brain about the night before. It had been a wonderful night.

Screwloose looked back upon the toilet she was straddling and pondered the nature of her throne. Pony toilets were very different than say, a minotaur’s toilet or or the odd squat holes in the floor favoured in Saddle Arabia. She had a book about toilets. So many different types of toilets. Pony toilets were long and somewhat egg shaped, so they could be straddled as you planted your backside over them, legs wide, tail up. Most toilets even came with a special tail catch, so your tail wouldn’t flop into the toilet water and end up soiled. Yuck. The bowl had to be elongated for colts and stallions and their different anatomy. Urine came from a different area on male ponies. Very expensive toilets had a shelf to rest your barrel on, so you didn’t have to stand on your front legs. Screwloose lamented the lack of a shelf. She grunted and strained for a moment, feeling a sting in a delicate place just under her dock, and was rewarded with a plop in the water. Too much macaroni and cheese the night before. Her current leavings had grunt rings around them, no doubt. Toilets fascinated her. One of her earliest memories she had after being found was the embarrassing memory of drinking out the toilet in her room in the asylum, and being caught doing it. There had been a rather painful explanation about modern plumbing and a stern lesson in not drinking out of the toilet. Since then, she had been fascinated, almost obsessed with toilets. She had a book about toilets, wrote secret poetry in a well hidden notebook about toilets, and often thought about toilets when she had nothing else to think about. For Screwloose, toilets represented an odd dichotomy. On one hoof, toilets were sanitary and removed waste quickly and efficiently. On the other hoof, toilets were wasteful, flushing away precious water, and you did your business in fresh drinkable water that was oh so easily taken for granted. Nopony ever stopped to think about all of the poor souls in the world dying from thirst in the deserts, the scarcity of water in places like the Sea of Grass where the zebras lived, and the value of water in Saddle Arabia, which was worth more than any precious metal. And with each flush, Screwloose flushed away a fortune. It was utterly mad behaviour, the very definition of insanity, or so Screwloose thought. She flexed her plot, trying to relax back there, gritting her teeth and straining, struggling to befoul a fortune in fresh water. A loud note of flatulence echoed through the tiled bathroom. What did Screwloose know about what was sane or insane? Screwloose was considered crazy. So she had joined society in the befoulment of their precious and finite resource, one more mad pony amidst so many other mad ponies, all of them soiling something precious and life giving, a majority of them never thinking twice about it… Because that would be mad.

“You all right in there?”

Mint Jewelup’s voice snapped her out of her deep thoughts about toilets. She cleared her throat, her nostrils flaring. She had mixed feelings about the scent of her own brand.

“Everything coming out okay?” Mint asked shamelessly, a faint giggle in her voice.

“Macaroni and cheese with a cheesecake dessert was a bad idea.” Screwloose shouted. There was another embarrassing blast that echoed off the tiles.

“Well hurry up.” Mint shouted. “Other ponies have to go as well. I’m dancing out here!”

“There is a lesson you must remember, a fact as sure as fate. Some things cannot be hurried…” Screwloose said.

“And some things that cannot wait!” Mint Jewelup finished, having heard this a thousand times or more. Screwloose was predictable at times.

There was a click as the door opened and Mint came bursting in. “So sorry!” Mint said, grinning sheepishly. She shoved her way in and planted her backside over the tub. In a moment, there was the sound of urine streaming. The look on Mint’s face was one of bliss.

Screwloose crinkled her nose at her roommate.

“Ahh that feels so good.” Mint cried in orgasmic tones.

“This is awkward.” Screwloose said, looking up and counting tiles on the ceiling.

“No, awkward would be me kissing you on the way out.” Mint said. “Or making eye contact and not looking away.”

“Is this what being friends means?” Screwloose said, her tone serious. “Nothing to hide, everything open, no secrets?”

“Maybe.” Mint Jewelup replied, still streaming.

“Minty, you have a milk jug for a bladder.” Screwloose said, still trying to look at the ceiling.

“Yeah, I know.” Mint Jewelup replied.

“I wonder why this is awkward behaviour.” Screwloose said, thinking aloud. “At what point did we stop urinating wherever and whenever and started urinating behind closed doors, and which point did it become a social taboo. I mean most of us are naked. Most of us don’t usually wear clothing. We see each others intimate areas and most of us never stop to think about it, but when pee comes out, suddenly, we feel self conscious and we fall prey to a need for privacy. We must hide our intimate places in a secluded room for the urination ritual. Or whatever pressing need we have.” She punctuated her thoughts with a loud plop in the water, causing Mint to flinch and flick her ears.

Mint Jewelup was suddenly very self conscious about the sound of her own urine streaming down, splattering into the tub. “Screwloose?”

“Yeah Minty?”

“You are remarkably lucid sometimes, you know that?” Mint said, squirming internally while thinking about what Screwloose had said. At last, the urine stream had ended. A few drops trickled out, and she gave her backside a shake.

Mint Jewelup rinsed out the tub and then hurried out of the bathroom, pausing only to plant an awkward kiss on her roommate’s muzzle, leaving Screwloose alone with her thoughts and an odd feeling of frustration.

Screwloose blushed a painfully burning blush and felt thankful that her mind wasn’t constipated like her backside was. As she straddled her throne, the thoughts continued to flow.

Author's Note

The delightfully twisted and awkward toilet chapter.

Kinda short, but of vital importance. Next chapter will be rather long I think. Not sure how long.

But this gives you valuable insight into the nature of Screwloose's mind. Clearly, she's a mad-pony.

Chapter 8

“I’m seeing somepony.”

Screwloose felt a small pang of guilt about the lie. Not really a lie, more of an omission of the truth. She was leaving out the details. It wasn’t her fault that pony language was pony centric. She twitched in her chair, looking at Dr. Hornwinkle.

“That is great news.” Dr. Hornwinkle replied, smiling a therapeutic smile and taking notes. His pen scratched as his horn glowed, his papers rustled. The clock on his desk ticked and the sands in the hourglass dwindled downward.

“I’m really happy. My relationship with my roommate seems to be better than ever. I’ve been feeling confident lately and it has made all of my relationships stronger. And I think I’ve made some new friends as well.” Screwloose stared at the hourglass as she spoke, one ear twitching in time with the clock’s ticking.

“So you are integrating.” Dr. Hornwinkle commented, almost absentmindedly. “You went on a date, found some confidence, and now you are seeing how easy it is to fit in and adapt to society. All it took was believing in yourself, feeling positive, and being confident.”

“Yeah.” Screwloose replied, halfheartedly. “So easy. Now I am just like everypony else.”

Dr. Hornwinkle nodded. “I knew you had it in you. You say your relationship with your roommate has become stronger?”

Screwloose nodded. “She’s always loved me without reservation. And now I’ve kind of let down the last few barriers and let her in. Now we are intimate. Well, not in a sexual way. I don’t think. I don’t know. She flirts with me because I checked her out. But she has stated she isn’t really going to put any moves on me because I am vulnerable.”

“I see.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, his face blank. “Screwloose, you seem unusually calm today. You don’t seem nearly as agitated as you usually do. Your twitches and tics seem minimal. Seems we have found optimal levels for your medication. And you’re starting to function in society now. This has to make you feel hopeful.”

Screwloose’s mind whirled. She hadn’t taken any pills. Her mind felt clearer. And the doctor was saying that she appeared to be somewhat improved. It was difficult to take in. She desperately wanted to say something.

Screwloose remained silent.

“How is your job Screwloose?” Dr. Hornwinkle inquired.

“I’m getting a bonus for sales.” Screwloose replied, suddenly animated again. She smiled broadly. “I’m handling the pressure of the job just fine. Fridays for example, we rarely have any shoppers. Actually harder to handle to boredom than it is the ponies.”

Dr. Hornwinkle nodded thoughtfully. “And work today went well?”

“Yeah. Fine.” Screwloose answered. “It was a long day. I had to move couches around to make room for new stock to be displayed. Good thing I’m an earth pony. Makes moving couches easier.

Dr. Hornwinkle grinned. “That’s what I like to hear. An acknowledgement of self. You are an earth pony. Good Screwloose. Every day you show signs of getting better.”

Screwloose suddenly felt quite ill. Her stomach turned in lurching sense of revulsion. She fought back the urge to be sick, struggling, feeling more than a little queasy. She wondered what was wrong. Drug withdrawal? The doctor’s almost predatory grin? She thought it was predatory. It was not a warm honest grin, not to her anyway. Seemed almost like he was gloating. Her stomach lurched again.

“You feeling alright?” Dr. Hornwinkle asked.

“The pills make me a little queasy sometimes.” Screwloose lied. She felt her guts twisting as the words came out.

“That’s normal.” Dr. Hornwinkle assured. “Side effects are to be expected. Occasional dizziness, nausea, light headedness. Sometimes a headache. We’ve been over symptoms before. And, since this may be relevant to you now, there may be some sexual dysfunction as well from the pills. Small price to pay for getting better.” Dr. Hornwinkle grinned again.

“Sexual dysfunction?” Screwloose said in a low whisper.

“Yes. Reduced sex drive, sometimes the inability to orgasm, little harmless side effects that are of no real consequence.” Dr. Hornwinkle assured.

“Yeah. I guess those things really aren’t a big deal.” Screwloose said, her voice quavering slightly. “I suppose when you’re sick like I am you probably shouldn’t be doing those things anyway, right?”

“Indeed.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

“So why did I start dating?” Screwloose said.

Dr. Hornwinkle scowled, his eyes narrowing, his jaw clenched. “Social interaction. We’ve been over this.” He hissed, now annoyed, all traces of his grin now gone. “Social integration. Your dating is mere social interaction to teach you new skills. In my opinion, you should remain celibate until such a time that I let you know that you are stable enough to get involved in a serious relationship.”

“Of course. You have my best interests in mind. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a problem, I just didn’t understand the reasoning behind all of this.” Screwloose said, her voice a near monotone, all traces of emotion carefully withheld. “I really wasn’t trying to be defiant.”

Dr. Hornwinkle stared at Screwloose, studying her, trying to read her motives.

Screwloose felt a faint prickle of fear. She had felt this before, but it was a nameless dread more than anything. Now it was a bit more than nameless dread. She felt overwhelmed and frightened.

“Do you ever think I’ll be well enough to become sexual? Or have foals?” Screwloose said, her throat tight.

“Perhaps.” Dr. Hornwinkle said. “At least regarding sexuality. As for motherhood, I highly doubt you would be a fit mother.”

The words were like a slap to the face. It took every bit of willpower Screwloose had to hold her emotions in check.

“Not all that long ago, we took care of that issue with compulsory sterilisations. That has fallen out of favour. A big mistake in my opinion. Mentally ill ponies such as yourself don’t always make the best decisions and then little foals get brought into the mess, and there is too much suffering. Was so much easier for everypony involved when we still had compulsory sterilisations. I suppose at some point, we should have a discussion about birth control and add that to your daily medications. Wouldn’t want any accidents.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Accidents would make everything complicated and I don’t think I could deal with that.” Screwloose deadpanned. She felt something pulling inside of her guts.

“Good girl.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, his tone insincere.

“I’m a lucky mare to have you looking out for me and keeping me out of trouble.” Screwloose said, trying to smile, one eye beginning to twitch painfully.

“If you don’t believe that yet, you will eventually.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, jotting down notes. “I think we’ll cut things short today. I want you to go home and think about potential consequences for being irresponsible. Not just for you, but for everypony around you, including your roommate. How much would it hurt her if something happened to you?”

Screwloose nodded, saying nothing.

“I shall see you again soon. Our usual time.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, unable to hide his annoyance and agitation.

“You look sad.”

Screwloose looked up from her milkshake at the pink pony now sitting in the chair on the other side of the table.

“I am.” Screwloose admitted to Pinkie Pie.

“Well maybe I can help you find your smile?” Pinkie asked, looking hopeful.

“I don’t know where I left it.” Screwloose said, looking sullen.

Pinkie Pie chortled, mirth overtaking her features.

“I had a bad session with my therapist today.” Screwloose said in a low embarrassed tone. She nursed her milkshake slowly and steadily, trying to avoid brain freeze.

“Well maybe I can be your therapist for a little while.” Pinkie Pie said, smiling broadly. “Tell me what is troubling you Screwloose.”

“My therapist for one.” Screwloose said, the first hint of a smile cracking upon her muzzle.

“The old one or the new one?” Pinkie said, cocking her head to the side and looking at Screwloose intently.

Screwloose couldn’t help it, she laughed. A bit of milkshake dribbled down her lip and onto the table.

“Okie dokie loki. The new therapist is a problem.” Pinkie Pie said, her tone serious. “I should have a notepad or something. I feel inadequate. Probably why I am a terrible therapist.” She slumped in her chair.

Screwloose fought back a giggle.

“So tell me more.” Pinkie insisted gently.

“My therapist said some very hurtful things.” Screwloose answered. “Under the guise of trying to do what is best for me.”

“Oh.” Pinkie said.

“Oh?” Screwloose replied.

“Just oh. That sounds awful. I didn’t know how to reply. I’ve never been to therapist school. I’m just making this up as I go.” Pinkie Pie squirmed in her chair.

“He scared me today.” Screwloose said.

“So stop seeing him.” Pinkie Pie said.

“I don’t have that option.” Screwloose said. “The court says I am required to see a therapist. If I stop going, I could be locked back up.”

“That’s awful.” Pinkie Pie said in a small wavering voice. “You must feel trapped.”

“I do.” Screwloose said, slumping down in her chair, taking another slurp from her straw.

“Isn’t there somepony you can go to for help?” Pinkie asked.

Screwloose shrugged.

“I’m going to talk to my friend Twilight Sparkle. Maybe she’ll know what to do.” Pinkie said, glancing upward at the ceiling, rubbing her chin with her hoof. “But she is away right now. Doing princess stuff somewhere.”

“Thank you.” Screwloose said.

“Don’t mention it. I’m your friend.” Pinkie quipped. “I mean that.”

Screwloose nodded.

“Speaking of friends.” Pinkie whispered. “How is your special friend?”

“He’s fine I think. We had him over for dinner. It was nice. One of the best nights of my life.” Screwloose replied, smiling a little bit as she did so.

“Well bring him by.” Pinkie said. “I’ve talked to Mr. and Mrs. Cake. He’s welcome here.”

“Really?” Screwloose said, her ears drooping, her eyes going wide, her tone hopeful.

“Really really.” Pinkie giggled. “There are ponies that care about you Screwloose. You may not know it, but there are.”

Screwloose’s eyes teared over, watering, her lip beginning to quiver.

“Now now, that’s not allowed.” Pinkie Pie chided. “I want to see you smile smile smile.”

Screwloose nodded, trying to smile, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I gotta get back to work.” Pinkie said, getting up from her chair.

“See you Pinkie. I’ll try to smile. Thank you so much for everything.” Screwloose said.

“You won't being be saying thank you when you see my bill!” Pinkie said, bouncing off to continue her job.

Screwloose giggled and smiled.

The moment Screwloose went through the door she was tackled. A loud wet kiss was planted on her cheek, and two legs wrapped tightly around her neck. Mint Jewelup held her for a long time.

“You look rough.” Mint said, seeing Screwloose. “Rough session?”

Screwloose broke down and told Mint everything, every detail, all of her thoughts, everything. She left nothing out. After about a half an hour so, she had everything out of her system, leaving Mint looking shocked and confused.

Both of them sat on the couch, neither one saying anything for a while, just looking at one another. Mint occasionally scratched her head thoughtfully, unsure of what to say.

“Well bother.” Mint finally said. Screwloose nodded.

“You know what? Screw everything.” Mint said. “I had good news to tell you. Tonight, there’s going to be a threesome and you’re coming.” Mint waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“What?!” Said Screwloose, completely flabberghasted.

“I have three tickets to a special concert, one night only, here in Ponyville. I’m taking Parasol and I am dragging you along for your own good.” Mint said. “Special benefit concert, all funds raised go to a good cause. Thunderlane gave me the tickets for standing me up the other night. He had to foalsit his brother.” Mint paused thoughtfully. “Thunderlane is a good pony.”

“I was just going to stay at home and do as Dr. Hornwinkle suggested.” Screwloose said, shaking her head.

“Nope. Not happening.” Mint replied, shaking her own head no. “You are coming with me, even if Parasol and I have to drag you.”

“I don’t understand how you can be seeing Thunderlane and Parasol at the same time.” Screwloose said.

“Parasol is positively gay for me and Thunderlane is absolutely straight for me. Both have different needs and I provide for them. Thunderlane is also seeing Flitter and Cloudchaser, so it isn’t a big deal. We’re not exclusive.” Mint sat back and looked pleased with herself. “Plus, I hope to get Parasol and Thunderlane in one big threesome someday. I can look after Parasol, Thunderlane can look after me while taking care of his own needs, and I get to be in the middle of a hot and sloppy pony sandwich of love.”

Screwloose boiled over, immediately turning a shade of mauve from hoof to ear.

“I intend to go down on Parasol you see,” Mint said, pressing her advantage, “playing a nice game of hunt the radish. Snuffle the truffle. And while I am doing that, I hope to have Thunderlane plowing my plot. Planting seed in the fertile valley. Thunderlane has powerful hips. He’s a kicker. I’m thinking with every thrust, my snout will be driven right into Parasol’s bedrock. Plus, they’re both pegasi, so they have that athletic endurance thing going on for them. I hope I am fit to compete or they could tear me apart.” Mint fanned herself with her hoof, looking somewhat sweaty.

Screwloose broke. She sat there for several moments, stammering and spluttering, her nostrils flaring, both eyes blinking out of synchronisation.

“Whew I feel hot and bothered.” Mint complained.

Screwloose nodded, feeling a bit hot herself. She wasn’t sure about the bothered part.

“So, concert tonight. The three of us. And no moping at home for you.” Mint said, still fanning herself.

“Alright.” Screwloose said, nodding, feeling an odd surge of emotion welling up from within. “Fillies night out.”

“Yeah!” Mint agreed.

Author's Note

Well, that was a rough chapter to write.

Eeyup. Writing the first half made me genuinely uncomfortable. **shudder**

Chapter 9

Screwloose wasn’t quite sure what was going on. There was something odd about the room she was in, but she couldn’t quite put her hoof on it. There were ponies all around her. It wasn’t a large room, and there was only two dozen or so ponies at most, and the environment was cozy and close. She was sitting on a large cushion, with Mint Jewelup and Parasol sitting next to her. Parasol’s wings were partially flared out and she was biting her lip. In a dark corner, two stallions were making out, rubbing their forelegs up and down each other’s bodies, their lips locked in a tightly suctioned embrace.

There was something certainly odd about the room.

A few cushions away, Lyra and Bon Bon were blowing into each other’s ears and planting gentle pecks on each other, Lyra moving up and down Bon Bon’s neck. Near the stage three ponies were kissing one another. At the same time somehow. The room was filled with the scents of arousal. The realisation hit Screwloose like a runaway wagon.

“Mint!” Screwloose whispered. “What am I doing here? I am not sure I belong here!”

“Relax.” Mint said. “This is a benefit concert for those with alternative lifestyles.”

“But I’m straight.” Screwloose said in a delicate whisper, hoping she wouldn’t upset anypony. She felt a hot blush building up and that damnable spot under her dock began to itch alarmingly. Her jaw clenched.

“Hah!” Mint scoffed. “You’re dating a dog. Welcome to the club.”

Screwloose reeled. She felt dizzy suddenly, light headed. She felt a hoof on her shoulder steadying her.

“You alright love?” Mint said, looking concerned.

“Just dizzy.” Screwloose said.

“I’ll keep an eye on you.” Mint said, smiling warmly.

Screwloose wished that Fleagle was here, but he was going to be off doing doggy things for a few days. She squirmed on her cushion, wiggling her backside, trying to scratch her itch without looking looking like she was scratching her itch.

“I can feel the love from all around.” Mint sighed. “So nice. Like being in a hot bath or under a warm blanket.”

“With me?” Parasol said, looking into Mint’s eyes and fluttering her eyelashes.

“Oh that’s a good idea. Tonight. When we get home.” Mint said, giving Parasol a lewd wink.

“Hot bath or warm blanket?” Parasol asked.

“Uh, both.” Mint said, shrugging. “Why choose when you can have both?”

Screwloose felt warm. She couldn’t tell if it was the room or just her. All around her were canoodling ponies, oblivious to their own public displays of affection. Screwloose pondered all those around her, and came to the conclusion that they must feel safe being in a herd of like minded ponies. Safe to be themselves and let go. And many ponies were certainly letting go. She paused, correcting herself mentally. Not letting go exactly. Holding tighter. The sounds of affection were everywhere, all around, gentle kisses, wordless murmurings, whispers, the sounds of tender affection, all of which made Screwloose’s ears burn.

She suddenly felt the odd sensation of wanting to be hugged. Held. Pulled close. Was she aroused? She didn’t know. But little by little, new emotions were bursting forth inside of her, like tender new shoots welcoming the spring and celebrating the end of winter. She closed her eyes and tried to take in everything around her, the feeling in the air, the sounds in her ears, and she felt a warm blissful sensation deep within her barrel.

“Minty!” Screwloose whispered loudly.

“What?” Mint replied.

“I feel very confused and odd.” Screwloose said.

“We all do sometimes love, just try to keep breathing and let it all soak in.” Mint said, her hoof tracing circles under Parasol’s very stiff wing.

“Do you want to go home?” Parasol said, her breathing laboured but her voice full of concern.

Screwloose thought long and hard before shaking her head no. She looked at Parasol and felt an odd sense of envy.

Lights came on, throwing circles on the curtain hanging in front of the stage. The curtain slowly began to open, and there was thunderous applause that pealed throughout the room. A white unicorn and a grey earth pony were on the stage. They smiled at one another, the grey mare smiling a careful smirking smile and the white mare smiling a reckless smile. Without warning, the unicorn used her magic to pull the earth pony acrossed the stage, hauling her in for a loud wet kiss, causing the grey mare to squirm, her tail twitching and flicking from side to side, her four hooves dancing in place as she squealed through locked lips. The saucy unicorn broke away and winked at the audience, leaving the grey mare flustered and breathless.

“Vinyl, that was entirely uncalled for.” The grey mare scolded, trying to smooth her mane back into place, her breathing still coming in gasps.

“Octavia, that’s how I deal with stage fright. How many times do I gotta tell you?” The white unicorn replied. Vinyl looked out at the audience, grinning broadly, her mirrored glasses reflecting the spotlights.

The audience cheered as Octavia stood there, flustered and blushing.

“Alright ponies.” Vinyl said. “Tonight, for the fundraiser, I’ll be doing something new. I lost a bet so no turntables tonight.” She gestured at a grand piano. “I’ll be playing that tonight. Octavia is making me. Sorry my pones.”

She crossed the stage and sat down at the bench in front of the piano. She did not raise her hooves. Instead, her horn glowed, and there was a faint tinkle from the piano.

“Octavia held out longer didn’t she Scratchy!” Lyra shouted from her cushion.

Octavia stood there, looking very embarrassed and extremely smug, somehow expressing both emotions at the same time. She gave a faint almost imperceptible nod. Vinyl hung her head, slumped over the keys of the piano. She also gave a somewhat more noticeable nod.

Octavia stood and grasped her cello, lifting her bow in her other hoof. She took an experimental draw over the strings, filling the room with sound. Vinyl tapped out a saucy accompaniment on the piano, something more than a bit suggestive sounding about the music somehow. Octavia seemed to notice this as well, raising her eyebrow, and she gave Vinyl the stinkeye as one of her hind legs quivered.

Vinyl Scratch leaned over her piano, stroking it with her hoof, her wild untamed mane falling into her eyes. “Tonight, I am going to make dirty dirty love to you.” She said in a stage whisper to the piano. “And I will not be gentle. I gotta get the rough stuff out somewhere. Tonight, Vinyl finishes last. Aw yeah!”

Octavia rolled her eyes, lifted her head, and began to play.

The room was suddenly filled with beautiful music, every pony falling silent, many ponies suddenly breathless.

Screwloose certainly felt that way. She sat on her cushion, feeling a slight struggle to breathe, overcome by beauty. Octavia carved a slow sad but sweet sound from her strings. Tears welled in Screwloose’s eyes as she was overcome by emotion. She stared up at the stage.

Screwloose broke completely when Vinyl began to play the piano, using her magic to tap out a complicated series of notes that accompanied Octavia’s cello. While Octavia was slow, Vinyl’s music was fast paced, many tinkling notes rapidly rising and falling, a complex melody that made Octavia’s music seem slower by contrast.

It was too beautiful for words and Screwloose began to weep, as well as many others did around her.

Octavia’s slow drawn out notes lingered in contrast to the near techno rhythm that Vinyl was somehow coaxing from the piano. True to Vinyl’s word, she was playing hard and rough, hammering away on the piano, making it do things with her magic that most piano players would never be able to replicate. She went down on the piano hard and fast, stroking it with her hooves under the keys, practically making out with the piano.

Octavia picked up the pace a bit, playing faster, her bangs sawing back and forth across her brow, a few strands of hair beginning to cling to her now sweaty ears and forehead, her eyes narrowing in concentration. She was biting her lip, her cheeks as red as apples through her grey pelt.

Vinyl was banging her head back and forth, her mane flying, her horn glowing. Her mane whipped in every direction, her eyes invisible behind her glasses, her lips pulled back from her teeth as she continued to plink away at the keys.

How long this went on Screwloose could not tell, not while it was happening, but she would know hours later, when she, Mint, and Parasol would walk home.

All around her Screwloose could hear laboured breathing, the sounds of velvety bodies rubbing and writhing together, the wet sounds of lips smacking and sucking on each other.

Octavia was picking up while Vinyl was slowing down. Her bow was a blur as it flew over the strings, the strings nearly invisible as they quivered from the vibration. Octavia was sweating now, it frothed all over her body, pouring down in rivulets, droplets flying from her foreleg as she drew her bow back and forth violently over the strings, her teeth grinding together like a mare in the throes of sexual bliss.

Which is exactly what she appeared to be. Music must cause powerful emotions Screwloose reflected.

Vinyl was gasping now, her mouth open, her barrel hitching, her tail twitching and whipping wildly as it hung off the edge of the bench. Her hind legs kicked and twitched, clenching together and flying open wide, she squirmed on her bench, her head still flailing wildly about, the melody she teased from the keys very much like a lover’s light quick touch, trying to feel everything and everywhere while in the throes of bliss.

Octavia had turned to face her cello now, and was grinding her hips against it, rubbing up and down the side, leaving the wood shiny and slick looking. Her pace and speed were impossible to see or keep up with. She threw her head back and began to moan, her music taking on a manic crazy edge, the pace and pitch ever rising, building up to a feverish crescendo.

Vinyl fell backward from her bench, landing on the floor with a loud thud, her hind legs kicking and seizing, both of her forehooves clutched down between her legs, a loud wailing cry pouring from her mouth and filling the room.

Octavia continued to play a little longer, until with a loud “plink!” a string broke on her cello. She wobbled on her hind hooves, her knees banging together, her cello slick with an odd sheen that reflected in the lights. She wobbled, her bow clattered to the floor, fallen from her hoof. She managed to lean her cello into its stand, she wobbled a few steps closer to Vinyl and then pitched forward, flopping down upon the floor. She lay on the stage quivering, moaning, crying out Vinyl’s name as the curtain closed.

Screwloose felt oddly satisfied. She felt warm. She felt beautiful. Her heart pounded within her barrel. She felt a strange new itch down in her nethers. All around her, ponies lay breathless, heaving gasps, many of the pegasi in the room had wings on full display, like Parasol. Mint lay in Parasol’s forelegs, her barrel heaving, looking up at Parasol with big wide eyes.

Screwloose basked in the post orgasmic glow like every other pony around her, realising she had just witnessed something truly magical.

They walked home together, the three of them, Parasol leaning on Mint Jewelup on occasion. A strange smell lingered about the three of them, and Screwloose was aware that it was coming from her as well. For the first time in her life, she felt well and truly giddy. Something had happened to her. She wasn’t sure what it was, but it felt wonderful.

“What happened?” Screwloose said, breaking the silence of the long walk.

“Vinyl Scratch is what happened.” Mint said as though that explained everything.

“I don’t understand.” Screwloose said, whipping her tail around and trying to get some fresh night air back there.

“Vinyl Scratch invented a new spell that turns musical sound waves into sexual stimulation. Every now and then, she and Octavia hold special concerts and Vinyl casts the spell on both of them.” Mint said, grinning obscenely.

“So we just watched two ponies rutting with music?” Screwloose said in shock.

“Oh yeah.” Parasol said, her eyes half open, staggering forward in an almost drunken fashion. “We just watched two masters musically diddling one another.”

Screwloose couldn’t respond. A hot wet heat flooded through her body. The cool feeling of the night air under her tail made her shiver and shudder.

“Thank you.” Screwloose said to Mint.

Mint smiled at her roommate and gave her a wink.

Author's Note

Well, that was satisfying. You're welcome. Was it good for you too?

Tell me what you think in the comments! Leave a like or a fave and I'll continue to be your writing slave.

Chapter 10

“I am so glad you are back.” Screwloose said, hugging Fleagle. “Where did you go?”

“Fleagle go see Hookbill, tell Hookbill good news. Hookbill very happy.” Fleagle said, his eyes wide with delight. He leaned into Screwloose, pressing his nose against her neck, snuffling and sniffing at her mane. He ran a paw under Screwloose’s jawline, causing her to shiver. “Fleagle miss you.”

Screwloose could feel eyes upon her, many eyes. She turned, looking at the ponies around her. Many were just looking. Others… Others had glares of disapproval. The public display of affection had not gone unnoticed.

“Come on Fleagle, let’s go to Sugarcube Corner.” Screwloose said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I want a milkshake.”

Fleagle nodded and followed, allowing Screwloose to lead the way as they walked through town, both of them wagging their tails. This too seemed to be noticed. Screwloose did her best to simply dismiss it.

It wasn’t long before they were settled into Sugarcube Corner, with Fleagle properly introduced to the Cakes. Both of them had embraced him warmly and welcomed him. Pinkie had been a gracious host as always. Pinkie had also introduced Fleagle and Screwloose to Rarity.

All of this kindness seemed somehow poignant when several customers got up and left after Screwloose and Fleagle had been seated together. Fleagle looked worried.

“Don’t mind them dears.” Mrs. Cake said to the couple, hurrying off to the kitchen.

“Some ponies.” Pinkie Pie said, scowling.

“Some ponies need to mind their own business.” Rarity said, her mouth settling into a fashionable moue. “Some ponies have a lot of nerve.”

“Some ponies don’t feel comfortable in their own skins,” said Screwloose, “and seeing others settle into their own skin makes them uncomfortable. We shouldn’t judge them.”

“I suppose you are right darling.” Rarity said, blinking slowly and dramatically. She leaned slightly against Pinkie Pie, looking thoughtful and a little sad.

Pinkie wrapped her foreleg around Rarity’s shoulders and smiled. “You two are adorable together.” She said to Fleagle and Screwloose. “I wish I could be that happy.”

“You two together. Not happy?” Screwloose said.

Rarity squirmed and pulled away from Pinkie, and Pinkie’s smile became one of nervousness.

“Um…” Rarity said, looking down at the table.

“Fleagle say something wrong?” Fleagle said, his jowls drooping in concern. “Fleagle sorry. Fleagle not always understand pony rules.”

“Fleagle, I think they’re just very close friends.” Screwloose said.

Pinkie Pie looked a little sad for a moment, one curl unraveling and dangling down into her face. Her blue eyes shrank.

“Me make mistakes.” Fleagle said, shrugging. “Fleagle thought me sensed something.”

Rarity’s face flared red for a moment, her blush pouring through her while pelt. She brushed her mane out of her eyes with a careless swipe of her hoof. “I’ve had enough of this charade.” She announced. “Pinkie Pie, I can no longer stand to be a hypocrite. Here we are in support of others who dare to be open while hiding ourselves away. No more!” She cried dramatically, waving a hoof in a circular gesture.

Pinkie Pie’s deflated curl coiled and sprang out. “Really?” She said hopefully.

Rarity nodded, putting on a brave face. “The public eye and public expectations shall simply have to deal with it.”

Pinkie Pie threw her forelegs around Rarity and hugged her wildly.

“About time.” Mr. Cake muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Fleagle was right?” Fleagle said, looking confused. “Like or do not like. Why pretend? This why Fleagle no understand pony rules. Say one thing, do other.”

“Because ponies are silly.” Mr. Cake said.

Screwloose nodded. “Some of us are very silly.” She pressed her lips into Fleagle’s ear, kissing him softly, running a foreleg along his back, causing one of Fleagle’s hind legs to twitch. Screwloose took note of his hound dog reflex spot.

Another customer left the store, snorting in disgust. Mr. Cake’s features contorted into anger, but he said nothing.

“No more hiding?” Pinkie Pie said in a low voice.

“No more.” Rarity said.

“Whew.” Pinkie Pie said, slumping into her chair. “It was getting rough for a while.”

Rarity nodded, studying her hoof, looking for imperfections.

“It has been really difficult coming out.” Screwloose said. “Breaking free. I feel good about it, but I am so scared. Both of you need to come out as well.”

“Fleagle with you.” Fleagle said.

“I’ll be with you as well,” replied Screwloose, “I have more friends than I thought and it has been what has pulled me out of this hole that I’ve been in.”

“We shall have to stick together.” Rarity said.

“There is a whole bunch of ponies who stick together.” Screwloose added. “I saw it the other night when Minty took me to a benefit concert for ponies with alternative lifestyles.”

“I heard about that from a client.” Rarity said. “I wish I could have gone. I wish I had the courage to just be my self. I’m so worried that it will cost me customers. Hurt my business. Or be the subject of vicious gossip and all of the damage that can do.”

“So what if it does.” Mr. Cake said from behind the counter. “Once word spreads that you are fair and open minded, business will come back.”

“I suppose you would know.” Rarity said, frowning thoughtfully.

Mr. Cake nodded. “I lost a few customers today. I’ll get a few back. Word will spread that this is a safe, friendly, open business.”

Rarity nodded, pulling Pinkie back to her, holding her close. “Pinkie Pie, do hold still.” Rarity whined.

“I can’t.” Pinkie said, smiling and squirming. “I just feel good.”

Rarity heaved a dramatic sigh. “The trials and tribulations I have to endure.” She moaned, rolling her eyes.

“Pinkie Pie, why don’t you take the day off.” Mr. Cake said. “We’re well stocked and I have the register.”

“Aw, thanks Mr. Cake.” Pinkie said, turning a darker shade of pink.

“Fleagle wants to go bark at butterflies.” Fleagle said. He licked at the froth in the milkshake he shared with Screwloose.

“I think I want to join you.” Screwloose said, licking her lips, cleaning away ice cream.

The three ponies and the dog sharing a table shared a smile among one another. There was a shared feeling of warmth, of a common struggle, a common bond. Fleagle was aware that there was something between him and a number of ponies now, something wonderful, something that was the sum of his hopes and dreams. Acceptance. Screwloose shared a similar feeling, feeling loved for what she was, even though she wasn’t entirely certain what she was yet. Rarity struggled inwardly, worried about her public image, but she rapidly was pushing those painful notions from her mind, her desire to be happy shoving everything else out. Pinkie Pie just felt happy seeing her friends smile, and a sense of relief from no longer having to hide a secret.

Mr. Cake felt a warm sense of satisfaction watching the four, knowing that he was providing a safe haven for a community that existed within the community.

“Pinkie dear, what shall we do together this fine day?” Rarity said, looking at Pinkie, who was draped around her.

“I don’t know Rarity. We spend so much time hiding, planning, and plotting that we don’t actually do much else together.” Pinkie said, her brow furrowed.

“Well then dear, that must change.” Rarity said, sniffing in annoyance.

“Well, you could dress me up and then undress me…” Pinkie said, her voice trailing off. “I like being a pretty Pinkie Pie.”

Rarity tittered but said nothing.

“Rarity?”

Rarity turned and looked at Mr. Cake, who was addressing her.

“I usually don’t tell ponies how to run their businesses, but I happen to know a few stallions who would absolutely love well made female clothing made and designed for the huskier stallion form.” Mr. Cake said, winking.

“Ooh that sounds exciting.” Pinkie Pie giggled. “I’m a little husky.”

“I’m a little beagle.” Fleagle said, looking at Pinkie Pie, raising an eyebrow.

“Pinkie dear, you are delightfully pudgy and I mean that in the best way. So squeezable.” Rarity tittered coquettishly behind a hoof, blinking shyly.

Screwloose burst out in laughter. “I just got the joke.” She chortled, squeezing her eyes shut and then guffawing once the exchange really settled in.

“Husky!” Rarity said, snickering, also getting the joke.

“Woof!” Pinkie barked, winking a lascivious wink at Rarity.

“Arf?” Fleagle replied.

“Arroo?” Screwloose inquired in a houndish drawl. She allowed her tongue to loll out and she began to pant from excitement, her long withheld natural urges manifesting.

Mrs. Cake stuck her head out of the kitchen door and barked a few times, joining in the fun, and then she went back to work, disappearing back into a kitchen filled with delightful smells.

“Fleagle also needing to pant right now.” Fleagle said breathlessly, looking at Screwloose with wide eyes. “Screwloose look very good right now.” His words caused Screwloose to blush and she cast her eyes downward into the milkshake glass on the table. She did not pull her tongue back in however.

“Love feels better when you can show it.” Pinkie Pie said, causing the table to suddenly go silent for a long moment. “Having to hide it sorta kills the mood.”

“Love?” Rarity said, clutching a hoof to her chest, sucking in her breath sharply.

“I am not sure what love is, but I think I’m starting to experience it.” Screwloose said, glancing at Fleagle.

“Love...” Rarity said again, her breath coming in short gasps.

“Fleagle feeling something. Might be love.” Fleagle said in a low raspy voice.

“Do you love me Pinkie?” Rarity inquired.

Pinkie Pie closed her eyes and nodded, causing her ears to bob. “I think I might. Might be infatuation. I feel like a balloon with too much air, like I am going to pop at any moment.”

“Of all the best possible things that could happen… This is the best possible thing ever.” Rarity said in low breathless gasps, her hoof still clutched to her barrel.

“Must be the baked goods.” Mr. Cake muttered, mostly to himself.

“Fleagle, we’re going to go out and have the best day of our lives and then I’m taking you home for a nice meal with my roommate.” Screwloose announced. “After we eat, we’ll make up the plan for the rest of the night as we go.”

Screwloose turned to Rarity and Pinkie Pie. “As for you two, I’d like to invite you both over for a meal one night soonish. I’ll talk to my roommate. We should all get together and have fun, my roommate Mint Jewelup will love both you. And I mean that. She loves everypony. I think her love made me better.”

“I would be delighted.” Rarity said, pulling Pinkie closer.

“Dinner party!” Pinkie Pie squealed, her mane bobbing and she bounced in place with excitement. Rarity pulled her in even tighter, trying to keep her still.

“Fleagle, are you happy with me?” Screwloose questioned.

Fleagle leaned close to Screwloose, one foreleg around her shoulders, leaning his head against her neck, nuzzling just behind her ear. “Yes.” He whispered, causing Screwloose’s ear to flicker wildly. Fleagle’s sensitive nose caught a faint whiff of arousal, which he savoured, and he began to sniff as he nuzzled, causing Screwloose to shudder and shake.

It had been a wonderful day. Meeting new friends in Sugarcube Corner. Finding acceptance. Chasing butterflies and barking. Lyra had spent over a half an hour throwing a stick with her magic, Bon Bon watching the exchange from a park bench and giggling. And now, as the afternoon transitioned into evening, both of them were sitting, very close together, and Fleagle had his paw around her broad earth pony shoulders, his tail wagging.

Something struck him, startling him out of his reflections. He looked down and saw a dirt clod, as did Screwloose. Both of them looked up and saw a unicorn, his horn still glowing, glowering at them both.

“Disgusting!” The unicorn shouted. “Get out of town dog!”

Another clod of dirt struck Screwloose, this one hard enough to sting, causing her to cry out in pain.

Fleagle moved between them, trying to shield her with his body. “Why?” Fleagle asked.

“Get out!” The unicorn shouted. “What you are doing is repugnant!”

“Come on,” said Screwloose, tears in her eyes, “come home with me Fleagle. Let us be away from here.”

They both turned and left, and, as they did so, one final dirt clod struck Fleagle in his back, causing him to yelp.

“What you’re doing is wrong!” The unicorn shouted. Several bystanders looked on, some of them with looks of disgust on their faces. Others stood confused.

“Dogs and ponies do not belong together!” A bystander shouted. “Sickening! Shame on you both!”

Screwloose whirled on them, snarling. “One more word out of any of you and I’ll make you sorry!” She screamed, her voice hoarse with emotion, one eye twitching. She pawed the earth with her hoof.

Nopony said anything. Eventually, Screwloose turned and left, while the getting was good. There was a painful ache in her chest. Fleagle walked skittishly, close to her, his tail between his legs, down on all fours, his head low. “Stay close Fleagle.” Screwloose said. “We’ll go home and Mint will smooth this over for us.”

Author's Note

Hang on folks. Going to get bumpy from here on out. The next few chapters will be unpleasant. I'm sorry.

Chapter 11

There was a strange ominous mood while Screwloose walked to work. She felt eyes staring at her. An odd sense of paranoia gnawed at her brain. She felt uncomfortable and worried. As she trotted down the road, she saw angry faces. Confused faces. Occasionally, she saw a friendly face, and that made everything bearable.

She turned the corner, walking through the open air market, her hooves clattering on the cobblestones, walking past a carrot cart. A strange stallion glared at her from behind a stall selling tomatoes, his eyes narrowed, his ears folded back.

Screwloose did her best to ignore it all.

“Keep your head high Screwloose!” A voice shouted. Screwloose turned and saw a mare she thought she might have recognised from the concert. She smiled warmly, thankful for the support. It wasn’t all bad.

At least ponies weren’t throwing things.

Fleagle was still at her home, he had slept on the couch downstairs the night before. There had been some rather close moments, a few really hot moments, and more than a little heavy petting, which had left both of them quite breathless, but both of them had agreed that there was no need to rush anything. So Fleagle had slept on the couch, Mint Jewelup kissing him goodnight after covering him with a blanket.

Screwloose turned another corner, leaving the open air market, walking down the lane to work, trying to find her smile again. She was afraid… She admitted that in her own mind. But she had friends now, and they would see her through. This was just a little rough patch. Nothing to worry about.

She pushed her way through the door to Sofas and Quills, trotted through the showroom, and went to the backroom to clock in.

“Screwloose?” Davenport called.

“Yes Mr. Davenport?” Screwloose replied.

“Don’t bother clocking in.” Davenport answered.

“Why…” said Screwloose, confused, “I am on the schedule for today.”

“Screwloose, this is very difficult for me, but I cannot have you working here any longer. I have to look out for my own interests. And I’ve heard some very disturbing things about you from yesterday.” He emerged from his tiny office room. “So please, do not clock in, and I must ask you to leave.”

“But why?” Screwloose said, now in shock. “I’m good at my job. You’ve never once had reason to complain about me. I was getting a bonus.” Her head sagged. “I was getting a bonus…”

“Just go please, don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Davenport said in a cold flat monotone.

Screwloose turned and stumbled out of the backroom. She nearly tripped over her own hooves as she made her way through the showroom. She crashed into the doorframe on her way out, staggering through the door and into the street.

Now she didn’t have a way to pay rent.

It was an odd thought, but it was the first one through her addled mind. She felt a pang of worry, and then dismissed it. Mint would see her through. She knew that, and didn’t doubt it for a second. She stumbled down the street, other ponies staring at her, she could feel their eyes boring holes into her, through her skin, through her flesh, deep inside of her being. Paranoia flared. Which one of these ponies had went and spoke to Davenport? Somepony did.

The skin on her belly went cold and there was a painful tightness down near her nipples, down near her groin. A tight ball of fear began to form, twisting her insides. Her dock clenched, nearly pulling her tail between her hind cheeks. A few stray hairs were pulled in, and she could feel them, a painful stinging tug as they were pulled between her moving cheeks as she walked.

She could feel her face ticking, and was suddenly very self conscious. What must she look like right now, her face contorting, her tail twitching, her buttocks flexing, trying to be rid of trapped hairs?

Every pony must be having quite a laugh at her she supposed. She was the object of public ridicule now. Everypony knew. She could almost hear the laughter in her ears.

She didn’t know how long she had walked through the town, but she found herself standing at the door of Dr. Hornwinkle’s office. She was supposed to be here after work, hours from now. Only she didn’t have work. Nope. No work today. Or tomorrow. Maybe no more work at all now that she was the town laughingstock. Screwloose ground her teeth together, fear knotting her insides.

She pushed open the door and sat down in the waiting room. This was as good of a place as any to have a breakdown.

Screwloose sat, staring at Dr. Hornwinkle. So far, this had not been pleasant. He was angry, his tone hurtful. Their initial exchange had stung. She had told him she had lost her job, and he had already known.

“I’ve been hearing some troubling things about you.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, scowling. “Back to barking in public I see. Barking inside of Sugarcube Corner.”

“A lot of ponies barked in there, there was a joke.” Screwloose protested. “Everypony was barking.”

“Terrorising the public. Having inappropriate relations with another species. Threatening another pony with harm.” Dr. Hornwinkle glared at her. “The list goes on and on!”

“Who decides what is appropriate?!” Screwloose shouted. “You told me to find a date and I did!”

“This is not socially acceptable.” Dr. Hornwinkle said, making a dismissive gesture with his hoof. “You are relapsing into old behaviours. After all this progress, you are falling back into inappropriate behaviours and relapsing into sickness.”

“No I am not.” Screwloose said. “My behaviour is fine by dog standards.”

“Do you know how sick you sound?” Dr. Hornwinkle said angrily. “You are a pony! A pony! And you will live by pony standards, do you understand?”

“At least I am not a judgmental ass.” Screwloose said, feeling the first hints of anger bubbling up inside.

“You leave me no choice.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

“What do you mean?” Screwloose demanded.

There was a click as the door opened and two ponies entered the room. Dr. Hornwinkle’s lips pursed together. “I am sorry, but you left me with no other choice.”

“No.” Said Screwloose. “Whatever is about to happen, I will not allow it. I have rights.”

“Soon, all of this trouble will be behind you and we will have your mind smoothed out again. You’re not well Screwloose, but we can fix you.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

Screwloose was suddenly pushed to the floor, the two ponies now on top of her, pushing her down, pinning her limbs. She cried and kicked, struggling to break free.

“You can’t fix me, I’m not broken!” Screwloose screamed. She felt a hot stabbing sensation in her hindquarters.

“We can fix you, we’ve done it before.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

“What do you mean you’ve done it before?” Screwloose said, feeling her muscles beginning to go lax.

“We’ve fixed you before Screwloose. Relax. Don’t worry. When this is all over, this won’t even be an unpleasant memory. All of this will be gone, and you’ll be on the road to wellness again.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

Screwloose came to a horrifying realisation. “What have you done to me?” She said, her breathing now laboured with two ponies pressing down on her and the tranquiliser coursing through her body. “This is why I can’t remember anything before the asylum. You monster!”

Dr. Hornwinkle sighed sadly.

“Even if I can’t remember, my friends will. You can’t keep me locked away forever. My friends will keep my memories.” Screwloose said, still trying to kick.

“Then I suppose we shall have to relocate you again, just like the last time.” Dr. Hornwinkle said.

Screwloose fell silent, reeling from the revelation of what had just been said.

“You have a troubled history Screwloose. You keep relapsing. Failing to follow your treatment plan. You become defiant. You’re sick and you just don’t know what is best for you. Thankfully, I’m still confident that we can fix you at some point. The alternative is permanent incarceration in an asylum.”

Screwloose struggled and kicked feebly, still trying to fight.

“This proves my point Screwloose. Even now, you continue to struggle and fight. Your defiance is just one of many symptoms we hope to cure you of.” Dr. Hornwinkle said. “We can’t fix your cutie mark. It seems you were destined for madness. But there are those of us that still feel that somehow, we can hold back the tide. We’ve never had a case like you before. You have no idea how important this study has been, trying to find a cure.”

“I’m not sick.” Screwloose said, her tongue feeling thick and alien in her mouth. It was dry, leathery. Her eyelids felt heavy. “I was happy. Why would you take that away from me?”

Her head fell to the floor with a thump and she saw stars. They flooded her vision. The voices in the room became distorted, weird, ominous. She felt something in her mind disconnect, and she went drifting off into the stars, free to roam the universe within her head.

Screwloose awoke in a strangely familiar padded room. She was wearing a straightjacket, which also felt oddly familiar and maybe even a little comforting. Her hind legs were hobbled together. She struggled, trying to flail her body around.

She took a deep breath and screamed. She screamed again. And then again. She screamed until her voice was raspy. There was a click from the door and it opened. She struggled, kicking and tossing herself about, and a heavy body settled on top of her. There was another stinging stab in her backside.

Soon, the stars returned and she was free to roam the universe again.

When Screwloose awoke next, she was being strapped down to a bed. Heavy restraints bound her legs in place. A nurse was shaving the sides of her head, just below her ears, cutting away her blue pelt and leaving behind flushed pink skin. She could feel the scrape of the razor and held still out of fear of what may happen.

“What are you doing?” She muttered, her mouth dry and full of cotton.

“Preparing you for electroconvulsive therapy.” A voice replied. “A few rounds of this and a little magic, and we’ll have your mind all fixed up and good as new.”

“I don’t want to forget everything. There are those I love.” Screwloose said, struggling to talk. “My friends.”

“Don’t you worry. All those troubling memories will soon be gone. You won't even miss them. We promise. Do you miss the ponies you knew before? Can you even remember?” The voice said.

Screwloose fell silent, no longer seeing the point in struggling. It would be all over soon, and she resigned herself to her fate. None of this would matter. How many times had this happened before? She had no memory of this ever happening, and yet she had a feeling that she was no stranger to what was about to take place.

She felt something heavy being placed around her head, two electrodes pressing into the shaved flesh under her ears. A rubber guard was placed into her mouth. There was a hum that came from somewhere.

One by one, she thought about them, her friends, treasuring their memories before they were snatched away. The hum began to grow in intensity.

There was a sudden sense of pressure on both sides of her head, a crushing feeling just under each ear. Her body tensed, her back arching up and away from the bed, her legs tugging against the restraints.

And then the pressure was gone. Screwloose gasped, struggling to breathe. Her chest felt tight. The machinery began to build in intensity again.

Again the crushing pressure thudded against her skull. Her whole body tensed, her back arched, her legs strained against the straps, a white hot coal appearing inside of her mind, just behind her eyes. It burned its way through the core of her brain. Her bowels and her bladder clenched and let go, the salty urine causing the electricity to sting her groin painfully, burning.

Finally, the crushing feeling eased off and Screwloose could smell burning hair. She gasped, her barrel heaving and hitching. The machines began to hum again.

Screwloose took refuge among the stars when the crushing pressure was applied once again. She felt something in her mind just let go and she was set adrift, floating away, no longer feeling anything at all, lost in a peaceful void. Her last thought before the total disconnect was of Mint Jewelup, and she could have swore she heard her friend telling her to hang on.

It was too late. She had let go.

Screwloose snapped awake, hearing a clattering crash and the strange rumble of crumbling concrete. She blinked groggily, her heavily medicated mind refusing to work, her body not moving, she struggled to make out what was going on. Something was coming in her window, the bars gone.

She giggled faintly. She needed more medication. She wasn’t well. Now things were coming in the window.

She heard a strange voice, but could not make out the words. There was a strange black stallion standing over her. She could not see his features. She heard a familiar voice. A strangely familiar voice. But once again, she couldn’t actually make out the words.

“Hold on Screwloose!” The voice said.

All Screwloose heard was a distorted mumble that echoed in her head. She felt two strong legs lifting her up from the floor, wrapping around her barrel.

She was filthy, and the caked mess caused her to stick to the floor. She felt her pelt being torn away as she was pulled free, a faint stinging feeling in her hindquarters that seemed a million miles away, way way back there, a sensation she could barely feel. Her legs felt a thousand miles long. Her hooves felt hollow and full of searing hot air.

She heard angry shouting from somewhere.

She was in the air now, drifting away, perhaps for the last time. A part of her mind hoped it would be. She could feel the cold wind stinging her damp backside, tearing through her clotted tail. Her head thudded painfully, and there was a heartbeat just behind her eyes.

“Come on Thunderlane, we gotta go!” A voice said.

All Screwloose heard was the rushing of wind and a distorted echo in between her ears.

“She’s dead weight Parasol. She’s all limp. Help me, get a leg through a strap or something! Why do earth ponies have to be so solid? It was easier to rip the bars from her window!”

Screwloose drifted back into the comforting void, welcoming the darkness, her last conscious thought was the tickling sensation of the breeze tearing through her mane.

Author's Note

Alright then. That was unpleasant.

Chapter 12

Mint Jewelup looked down at Screwloose on the bathroom floor. She was currently not responsive, and she had been slipping in and out. It had been a struggle to get the straightjacket removed. She gently stroked her friend’s side, her hoof lightly caressing the flesh over the ribs, feeling the rise and fall of her friend’s barrel.

“Fleagle, as embarrassing as this might be, I need to you lift her leg and spread her, so I can get her cleaned up back there.” Mint said, her voice gentle but commanding.

Fleagle did as he was bid, carefully lifting Screwloose’s hind leg. Mint went to work with a sponge, wringing it out several times in the tub, gently pressing in and trying to scrub away the filth.

“What done to her?” Fleagle said in low whine.

“I don’t know.” Mint Jewelup replied. “I think they zapped her. She’s also drugged. The drugs will wear off though.”

Fleagle nodded, still holding Screwloose’s leg, looking away, unable to watch what was being done, his paws trembling and his ears twitching.

“Love is difficult sometimes.” Mint said, her voice strained, a barely restrained sob present. “And love is tough. It can be hard work. And it can rip your heart apart. I still choose to love.” She said, gently scrubbing with a sponge. Tears trickled from her eyes, spotting and staining Screwloose’s pelt. She began pulling the hairs of Screwloose’s tail apart, trying to free them from caked filth.

Fleagle let out a long low whine… A uniquely canine sound of sorrow.

“Love will see us through Fleagle. Hold on.” Mint whispered.

“Why this happen?” Fleagle whined. “Why?”

“I wish I knew Fleagle.” Mint said.

“Because Fleagle?” Fleagle said, squeezing his eyes shut.

“No Fleagle! And you must never say that again, do you hear me? This isn’t your fault. There are some very misguided ponies out there that do bad things. You cannot control that.” Mint said, her tone gentle and careful, her eyes focused on Fleagle while she spoke.

There was a loud knocking from downstairs.

“Oh horseapples. Mint, how can you be so stupid!” Mint spat. She facehoofed. “Of course they’re going to come looking for her here.”

She heard a thump downstairs as the door was forced open. She heard shouting. Mint heard a loud crash and the tinkling of glass. There was more angry shouting. Mint cringed, hearing the unmistakable sound of violence downstairs. There was a loud angry bellow followed by a static crackle.

That would be Thunderlane getting worked up and releasing the static discharge from his wings. Ozone permeated the air of the house.

There were thumps coming up the stairs. Mint Jewelup’s horn glowed. She wasn’t sure if she could hurt anypony. She looked around the bathroom, looking for objects to throw. She placed her body over Screwloose.

Fleagle had his teeth bared and his hackles were up. His claws flexed. He looked about as aggressive and terrible as his beagle ancestry allowed him to be. Which is to say, not much at all. He looked more scared than anything else.

The bathroom door was flung open. Thunderlane stood in the door. “We’re leaving!” He announced, his voice almost ringing off of the tiles. “Parasol is downstairs, so are Flitter and Cloudchaser. My family has a cabin way out in the middle of the Whitetail woods. Don’t ask why pegasi have a cabin way out in the middle of the woods on the ground. Parasol and I will carry Screwloose again, Flitter and Cloudchaser will carry you two. Now MOVE! We’re going!” Thunderlane was out of patience. “And Mint, close your eyes before going down the stairs. Nopony died, but there is a mess. And you’ll be wanting to patch them up and make them better.”

The ponies began to prepare for their escape, Mint taking time to grab a few supplies while Thunderlane snorted impatiently. Mint made a sling from a bedsheet, allowing Screwloose to be slung between Thunderlane and Parasol in flight. The ponies, now fugitives, fled into the night, leaving behind them a wrecked home with several bodies, all of which had legs bent at odd angles unnatural to the pony form.

“Flitter, Cloudchaser, you should get out of here. Before you become more tangled up in this than you already are.” Thunderlane said, standing in the middle of the front room of the cabin.

“Are you sure? We don’t mind staying.” Flitter said.

“I kicked a stallion in the nuts so hard that I think he choked on them.” Cloudchaser said.

“We were seen.” Flitter added.

Thunderlane spat and swore, his wings flapping in frustration. He banged his head against the doorframe with a loud thump, causing objects in the room to rattle. “Horseapples and buggery!” Thunderlane swore.

“Practical concerns.” Parasol said, butting in. “What are we going to eat and drink? How are we going to get by out here?”

Thunderlane seemed to calm, thinking. “There is hoof-powered pump off to the side. There should be a lot of canned food in jars still, and food in tins. There is a bathtub, but it has to be filled by bucket, and the water has to be heated over a wood burning stove if you want it hot. We could hole up out here for a while if we had to, maybe with one of us sneaking off to town and getting the occasional fresh bit of supplies.” He looked thoughtful. “And there is a four hole outhouse out in the back in case anypony is feeling particularly friendly and wants some company.”

Parasol nodded. “Now, Thunderlane, what we should we do with Flitter and Cloudchaser?”

“We keep them here.” Thunderlane said, now calm and thoughtful.

“Hey, that’s a neat trick Parasol.” Mint said. “I’m going to need plenty of hot water. Screwloose is still a mess. After I get her cleaned up, we should get her to bed.”

“There are four beds.” Thunderlane said, still being informative. “All doubles.”

“And seven ponies, oh my.” Mint said.

“And there are two couches here in this room, but they are terrible to sleep on, trust me, I know from my high school party days.” Thunderlane said. “Nopony should be made to sleep on those couches. He looked at Screwloose, still sprawled on the floor. She was twitching slightly, her eyes rolling around wildly behind her lids. “Damnit Mint, what did they do to her? She’s been shaved just below her ears.”

“I think they zapped her.” Mint said in a low pained whisper.

“Bastards.” Thunderlane swore. “Why? Why would somepony do this? Those dirty motherpluckers.”

Flitter and Cloudchaser gasped together, hearing Thunderlane.

“From my own experience, I strongly suspect they were just trying to help. They wanted to fix what was wrong with her.” Mint said slowly and carefully.

“Not a damn thing is wrong with her!” Thunderlane said, his voice nearly at a shout. “Gah! I’m going outside to start bringing in some water for the storage basin.”

“I’m having an odd night.” Cloudchaser said. “I kicked a stallion’s balls into his throat, I aided fugitives, I am probably a wanted criminal now my self, I am helping my stallion fiend help one of his mare friends, and I am really pissed off about how somepony treated a pony who is mostly a stranger to me.” She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Yeah, that about covers it all. One really screwed up night. I haven’t even been drinking.”

Flitter hugged her sister.

“I think it has been a rough night for all of us.” Parasol said, looking at Fleagle who was sitting on the floor, close to Screwloose, stroking her side. “You alright Fleagle?”

“No.” Fleagle admitted, saying nothing else. Parasol crossed the room and placed a leg around Fleagle, hugging him. “I don’t know how, but it will be okay.”

Mint nodded. “We had better get comfy with one another and settle in.”

Mint lay in bed, in the dark, spooning against Parasol, the feeling of Parasol’s back warm against her belly. Parasol’s ear flickered at Mint breathed on it. Not too far away in the other bed in the room, Screwloose lay comatose with Fleagle curled up beside her. He cried occasionally in his sleep, yelping and whimpering, sometimes growling.

Mint sighed, still awake. It would be dawn soon. Parasol was sound asleep.

Cleaning up Screwloose had taken some work. The hospital had done nothing to clean her up after whatever it was they had done to her. Her skin was raw and red, chapped, and would require a lot of attention and care.

Sometimes, Mint supposed, love had to be tested. Through pain, through suffering, through tribulation, and sometimes embarrassment. She would probably tease Screwloose about it at some point, far off in the future, but for now, it was still too fresh and raw in her own mind, knowing all of the intimate details of her close friend. She hoped that she could tease Screwloose in the far off future. Mint had no clear idea just how much trouble she might be in. She snuggled closer to Parasol, needing her warmth. She wasn’t cold, but she was scared. Terrified. There was no telling what might happen.

She lay there for what felt like days, finally seeing a hint of orange through the window. Thunderlane would keep watch until dawn, at which point Flitter and Cloudchaser would stand watch. They weren’t taking any chances. She breathed deep, taking in Parasol’s scent. She was still sweaty from earlier this night. It was comforting.

Mint Jewelup finally dozed.

She awoke several hours later to sputtering. Her eyes flew open. She saw Screwloose propped up in the bed on a couple of rolled up blankets and pillows, and Parasol was carefully trying to give her some water.

“Screwy, love, say something.” Mint said groggily as she struggled to sit up.

Screwloose mumbled incoherently.

“That’s close enough love.” Mint said, now sitting, kicking her hind legs out over the edge of the bed. Mint took the water glass in her magic. “She needs a straw. She’s always had trouble because of her facial tics.”

“There are no straws, I looked.” Parasol said, frowning.

Fleagle squirmed, still on the bed with Screwloose. He snatched up a blanket, twisting the corner, and dipped it into the water glass. He then jammed the end into Screwloose’s mouth.

There was a suckling sound as she slurpled water from the blanket corner. Screwloose’s ears flickered. Fleagle looked at her hopefully, gently pulling the blanket out, and then dipped it into the water glass again, saturating it, and then jammed it back into Screwloose’s mouth.

Blanket water was better than no water.

Mint stumbled through the room over to Screwloose. Not bothering to say anything, she pulled Screwloose’s legs apart and gave her quick once over, checking on her friend’s chafed filly bits.

Screwloose mumbled, dribbling water from her lip, lifting and waving her front hooves.

“Sorry Screwy, but you are a mess down there.” Mint said, her face flushed.

“She can’t seem to talk.” Parasol said, worried.

“She’s still probably very medicated and groggy from whatever happened.” Mint said, a hint of worry in her voice. “Screwloose honey, you’d better come around. We went through a lot of trouble to spring you.”

“We should feed her. Anything I should look for?” Parasol asked.

“She likes pears. See if there any in a jar or a tin. And grab a spoon.” Mint said.

Parasol fled the room, off to find pears.

Fleagle was still dipping the blanket in the glass, which was now nearly empty and still held in Mint’s magic. Mint set the glass down on a crate that served as a bedside table after one last dip. She crawled up on the bed and pressed her nose against Screwloose.

“She feels a bit feverish and clammy.” Mint commented. Mint placed her head on Screwloose’s barrel, listening. “Heart sounds good.”

Screwloose’s legs wrapped feebly around Mint’s neck, pulling her body close. Mint fell forward onto her friend. “I’m here girl, we have you.” Mint said, her head still on Screwloose’s barrel. Screwloose began to babble incoherently, a wordless stream of noise coming forth, her lips flapping and spitting.

Screwloose struggled, a look of immense concentration etched on her face.

“Still remember.” She croaked, the words difficult to make out.

“What Screwloose mean?” Fleagle asked.

“I have no clue.” Mint replied. “When she gets a little better, I suppose we will find out.”

Author's Note

Okay, everypony can breathe again. The absolute worst is mostly over.

Story is almost over as well.

Tell me what you think if you have a mind to do so. Thanks!

Chapter 13

Mint Jewelup had trouble wrapping her mind around what she had heard from Screwloose. After more water and a light meal of canned apple and pear slices, Screwloose had been able to mumble out vague details of what had happened. Troubling details. Painful details. Mind erasing. An entire life lost. How many times? Screwloose’s rescue had been timely. After a few more rounds of electro-shock, a more nefarious treatment had awaited.

Mint shuddered, still looking at the sleeping Screwloose. Fleagle was beside her, his face looking troubled, his eyes sad. He said nothing, his houndish face the epitome of sorrow.

Mint still had no clue what to do. They were prisoners now in this cabin, at least for the time being. There was no clear plan what to do next, how to move forward, how to go on with their lives. What might happen to them? What if they were taken? What if they were… Erased?

Mint felt that she would never sleep again out of fear of what may come when she closed her eyes. Her coat felt damp and somewhat sweaty. Things had gotten out of hoof. Spiraled out of control. The center had not held. Her gaze fell on the empty glass jar on the bedside, a metal spoon down inside of it. It was empty, even the syrup gone.

Parasol was standing watch now, outside, and the two sisters were eating a meal in the kitchen. The house was mostly quiet, with nopony wanting to disturb the sleeping Screwloose. She certainly needed the rest. Fleagle moved, stretching carefully, not disturbing Screwloose who slumbered beside him, and carefully licked her nose. She stirred faintly in her sleep, not waking, but moving closer to Fleagle, one foreleg extending, seeking, finally touching, causing her to go still once again, her barrel rising and falling.

“Fleagle?” Mint said in low careful tones.

“Yes?” Fleagle replied, his voice barely a raspy whisper.

“I think I love you.” Mint said, her voice warm and soft as she blanket on which she sat.

Fleagle’s eyes glanced at Mint, taking her in, studying her. “Fleagle thinks me understands. Friends?”

“Yes Fleagle. Always and forever. Seeing you with Screwloose is the only thing that keeps my heart from breaking.” Mint shifted, kicking out a leg, feeling a cramp in her stomach. “After everything that’s happened, I almost feel like hating somepony, and that’s not like me at all. It is ruining my insides and hurting my heart.”

“Fleagle not understand why this happen.” His tail thumped on the bed, once, twice, and then it folded up against his side and went still. “What will happen to us?”

“I don’t know Fleagle.” Mint said, her voice full of worry. “If we get caught, I suspect things will go badly for us.”

Fleagle nodded slightly, his long ears dropping.

“While she sleeps soundly, we should go get something to eat Fleagle.” Mint said, rising up off of the bed and standing on her hooves. “Come on, let us both go see what we can find.” She lifted the jar, the spoon, and the lid in her magic, leaving behind the glass of water, which had been refilled. Fleagle carefully rose up off of the bed, stepping over Screwloose, dropping down to the floor on all fours. He followed Mint as she left the room.

Five ponies and a dog sat around a table, playing cards. It was an odd image, perhaps something that some mad painter might paint, desperate for fame and attention. Every ear was perked, straining to hear noise, either from the bedroom or from outside.

“I suppose we had better settle into doing this.” Thunderlane said. “I suspect we're going to be playing cards until this deck wears out.” His brow furrowed, his ears pitching forward over his eyes.

“Either this or Conveyor Belts and Cookie Chutes.” Parasol said, studying her cards.

Fleagle leaned over and showed his cards to Flitter, whispering into her ear. She threw her own cards down on the table with an exasperated sigh. Fleagle gave a faint smile, a strained smile. The sort of smile one gives when trying to present a brave face whilst stuck in a bad situation. Thunderlane looked concerned after Flitter quit, but did not tap out. He tossed a spoon into the middle of the table, where there was an assorted pile of trinkets. Cloudchaser raised her eyebrow, her eyes moving shiftily back and forth to the other occupants of the table.

“I’ll raise with one kiss. On the cheek. And not the plot cheek either. Mint.” Cloudchaser said, studying her cards.

Mint gave a halfhearted smile, trying to show some sort of interest. Flitter snorted, shooting glance at Fleagle and then her sister, a faint smile appearing on her lips.

Parasol tossed a mason jar lid into the center of the table.

“I’ll raise a two minute backrub.” Mint said, shrugging, eyeing her cards. “With hooves and magic.”

“Oh buck me, I want that.” Thunderlane whined.

“No happy ending.” Mint added.

Thunderlane sulked and settled into his cushion on the floor.

“Full house.” Cloudchaser said. “Eights and tens.”

Thunderlane threw down his cards. “Nuts.” He grumbled.

Parasol set down her cards, frowning. Mint did the same, sighing.

“Four white ponies with horns and wings.” Fleagle said, setting his cards down, face up. He glanced at Flitter, he nodded and grinned slightly.

“Oh bother.” Cloudchaser said.

Fleagle win finally?” Fleagle said, unsure and hesitant.

“Yeah.” Flitter said. “You did. You get a kiss, a message, and everything in the middle of the table if you want it.”

“Fleagle has everything me wants. Almost.” Fleagle said, taking nothing from the pile in the center of the table.

“What is it that you want Fleagle?” Cloudchaser questioned.

“Me Screwloose.” Fleagle said in sad houndish tones. “Fleagle want her well.”

“We all do.” Parasol added.

“I’m done.” Flitter said. “I am going to hunt through the pantry and the surrounding woods and see what I can find for dinner tonight. I’m thinking soup or stew of some sort.”

“I’ll help.” Cloudchaser added. “We should go outside in pairs, just in case.”

“Good idea.” Thunderlane said. “I am going to refill the water basin. It’s almost empty already.”

“Fleagle can help.” Fleagle said, rising from the table. “Can carry bucket in each paw.”

Mint looked at Parasol. “I need some kind of release.” She whispered.

“What did you have in mind?” Parasol replied.

“I just need somepony to hold me for a while, nothing more, nothing less.” Mint said. “I need to love something. In a simple and direct way.”

“I can do that.” Parasol said. “Lets go cuddle on the couch.”

When Screwloose awoke again, it was dark. Fleagle was beside her in the bed. She was under a blanket, and Fleagle was curled into a ball against her belly. She lay there, silently, trying to collect her jumbled thoughts.

She felt extraordinarily lucky. This time, she had kept her memories. Dr. Hornwinkle hadn’t been able to steal them away from her. She had friends. Good friends. Friends who had placed themselves in harms way to rescue her.

Her mind was full of cobwebs. The drugs seemed to be clearing up a little. Her head ached. Fleagle’s warm wet breath blew against her barrel.

“Mint? Fleagle? Somepony?” She said, her voice scratchy. “I gotta pee. I need help. Hurry!”

Fleagle stirred, moving, yawning. In the other bed, Mint rose, apparently not sleeping. “Come on Screwloose. There’s an outhouse outside.”

Screwloose wobbled out of bed, Fleagle shoving her onto her hooves. His tail wagged as the blanket fell away. She nearly fell, toppling over onto Mint, who held her up. Parasol wiggled out of the bed.

“Hold on, I’ll get the other side.” Parasol said while yawning.

Both of them braced Screwloose between them and then guided her outside, Fleagle following along behind them, walking on all fours.

Screwloose didn’t make it to the outhouse, she began to leak a few steps out the door and then squatted, feeling embarrassed, feeling an odd need for privacy, thinking back to her earlier bathroom reflections. It didn’t help matters that Fleagle was watching. She felt oddly heated thinking about it.

The drugs must still be having an effect upon her mind, she thought to herself. She felt a final dribble, heard the droplets hitting the ground, and heaved a sigh of relief. It burned back there. She recalled the sensation of her bladder bursting as she was being electrocuted and winced, her eyes shutting for a moment, slightly longer than a normal blink.

“A true true friend helps a friend go pee… A friend will be there trying not to see…” Parasol sang to herself, looking away.

Screwloose blushed as Mint gave a three fourths hearted giggle.

“I still need to go.” Screwloose said in a low whisper. She shivered in the night air.

“You mares alright?” Thunderlane said, coming around the corner of the cabin. “I heard you coming, I was in the back holding open the door.”

“A true gentlepony.” Mint sighed. “Come on Screwloose, you’ve got to pinch a loaf.”

Screwloose choked on an embarrassed laugh. “Minty!” She grunted.

Parasol and Mint escorted Screwloose around the cabin, leaving Fleagle standing near the door. He scratched his ear with his hind paw, one eye scrunched shut, his head twisted around to get a better angle.

Screwloose wobbled on her cushion, sitting at the table, waiting for food. Fleagle was propping her up. Nothing wanted to work right. Her limbs were all twitchy and out of order. She felt oddly heavy.

But none of that really mattered. She leaned heavily on Fleagle, relishing his warmth and soft fur. His coat was silken. She rested her chin on his shoulder, wrapping her foreleg around his middle, pulling them together, closer, needing something to be near her. He ran his muzzle along the front of her neck, his nose trailing along her throat, sniffing, taking in her scent. His ear was scrunched and folded between the two of them.

“You two are adorable.” Parasol said sleepily. “I could watch this all night.”

“I fixed a little rice and there was canned vegetable soup.” Mint said, bringing food to the table. She set down a broad chipped bowl full of soup, bits of rice visible and floating in it.

Screwloose reached a trembling hoof for a spoon, which Mint snatched away with magic.

“Sorry Screwy, but I am too tired to give you another bath tonight.” Mint said, dipping the spoon into the soup.

Screwloose sagged a bit, sighing, but accepted the help. Her face was twitching on occasion. She suspected she was going to be covered in soup before the meal was through. She carefully took in the first spoonful, and then the second, spilling nothing. There was a slight dribble down her chin on the third one. Her mouth contorted severely on the fourth, causing most of her bite of soup to trickle down her chin and neck.

Mint sighed.

Fleagle went to work, licking off the soup, pulling Screwloose closer, causing her to giggle. “Mmm.” Fleagle mmmed. “Good soup. Screwloose has flavour.”

Mint and Parasol shared a smile as Mint went back to work, spooning in more soup.

Author's Note

So. Screwloose has a flavour.

And a true true friend helps a friend go pee.

It is a little too late at night. Bother.

Chapter 14

Screwloose lay in the bed, listening to the rain. The bed was somewhat crowded. Mint was in the bed with her, napping, pressed up against one side, while Fleagle was against the other. Faint snores came from his black and ginger speckled nose. Grey clouds were visible through the window. Laughter came from the main room, quiet, muffled, the sounds of ponies trying to occupy their time while trying not to disturb others.

Her skin crawled when there was a faint knock coming from the front door. The sound of laughter died. The cabin fell silent. Screwloose whimpered and began to shake Mint.

“Wake up, somepony is knocking.” Screwloose cried in panicked tones.

Mint twisted and rolled in the bed, getting to her hooves and dropping to the floor. Her horn glowed. Fleagle worked his way free from the blankets. He shook himself, his loose drooping skin flapping around wildly.

Mint blinked a few times, trying to clear her head. There were four pegasi in the front room. More than enough to get a good fight started. She didn’t want another fight. She looked at the window, wondering if she could get Screwloose out of it, and how far they could run.

“Fleagle can carry Screwloose.” Fleagle said, reading her mind.

There was a squeaking squeal as the front door was opened.

There were faint voices. Whispers. Mint’s ears strained. Her muscles spasmed.

“Mint?” Thunderlane called.

“Yes?” Mint replied, her voice scratchy from fear.

“We have guests.” Thunderlane announced.

“How did you find us?” Mint said, staring at Pinkie Pie and Rarity.

“My Pinkie Sense. I set it to hunt for the ponies in the most trouble.” Pinkie chirped.

“Where you followed?” Mint said, still scared out of her wits.

“Nope.” Pinkie answered. “My Pinkie sense would have warned me.”

“Darling, you look awful. How could those horrible brutes do this to you?” Rarity said, shaking her head in confusion as she looked at Screwloose. “Hello again Fleagle. I do wish we met again under better circumstances.”

Screwloose settled herself into a lumpy couch.

“You’re in the paper.” Pinkie said, pointing to a large basket sitting on the floor. “Oh, and we packed you some food.” She began to bounce in place.

“Rumble told Sweetie Belle that he has the most awesome brother ever.” Rarity said with a fetching grin. “Some ponies from the asylum came by my shop. They asked questions. They also stopped by Sugarcube Corner. Scared the Cakes something awful.”

Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah.” She muttered darkly. “They barged in there and acted like bullies. Made the twins cry.” Several curls went limp.

“Pinkie dear, mind your curls.” Rarity said. Pinkie continued to scowl.

“What about us?” Flitter asked, her voice full of concern.

“Are we mentioned?” Cloudchaser asked, opening the basket. She pulled out the paper and gasped.

“Damn.” Parasol muttered, seeing Cloudchaser’s expression. “How bad?”

“All of our pictures. They used me and my sister’s yearbook pictures.” Cloudchaser said.

Thunderlane pulled the paper away from Cloudchaser. “Oh damn. They used my mugshot from my drunk and disorderly.” He scowled, staring at the paper. “I hate that picture. I look like a drooling moron. You have one weekend bender in Canterlot with some school friends, trying to catch up on old times…”

“We cannot stay here forever.” Mint said. Eventually, they will do something like check property records or something for our families. Sooner or later, we will run out of luck and we will be found here. There is also the matter of food. We need to flee Ponyville and this area completely.”

“No.” Said Pinkie Pie. “Nopony is running away.”

“What?” Parasol replied. “We can’t stay here.”

Rarity scowled. “My beloved Pinkie Pie is right. You can’t run away. If you run now, you’ll never be able to stop running. We have to face the music.”

“What are you saying?” Mint demanded.

“I do not know yet.” Rarity said, making a dramatic gesture with her hoof. “I need time. To be creative. But nopony is running away just yet. I will not allow this to happen. I have powerful and influential friends. Twilight Sparkle is away, but Pinkie and I are not without our resources. I ask that you give us time. A few days at least. We’ll bring more fresh food. We will fix this somehow.” Rarity said, her lips protruding in a thoughtful pout.

“And what if this gets smoothed over somehow and they just snatch away Screwloose again later?” Mint Jewelup said, giving voice to her fears. “Not that this can be smoothed over. We sprung her from an asylum, brought injury to several asylum staff, did property damage, and fled into the night as fugitives.”

“I am so sorry.” Screwloose said, her voice raspy with emotion and pain. “I never wanted this to happen to you all. I feel so awful.”

Fleagle bounded to the couch, flinging himself onto Screwloose, nearly knocking her over. He said nothing, but hugged her fiercely. She hugged him back, wrapping her legs around him, pulling him closer, burying her face under his snout.

“I wouldn’t change a damn thing.” Parasol said. “You stick by family.” Mint gazed at her marefriend, her eyes wide with a flood of emotions.

“We got involved because we love Thunderlane.” Flitter said. “And by extension, we care about those that he loves. We don’t want to see him hurt. So we’re all in this together.” Cloudchaser nodded, wrapping a wing around her sister.

Pinkie Pie was humming, looking pensive and thoughtful, bouncing from left hooves to right hooves, her tail and mane bobbing as she moved.

Mint went over to the couch and sat down with Fleagle and Screwloose, leaning onto them, wrapping her forelegs around them both.

“She shall have to find a way.” Rarity said. “We shan’t succumb to this brutishness.”

“We need to throw a party.” Pinkie said.

“What? Pinkie dear, please say something that makes sense.” Rarity said, turning to look at Pinkie with half lidded eyes. “I really need you to make sense right now.”

“We need to throw a big party. Pinkie said. “And we are going to need a lot supplies for the party. Rarity, we gotta go. You’ve got work to do.”

“Pinkie, dear, once again you are not making sense. Are we going to have to have a talk about this again?” Rarity said, cocking her head to the side.

“Will the talk end like it did the last time?” Pinkie said seductively, licking her teeth with her orange tongue. “Cause if so, I need that talk. I’m a naughty filly. I need to be lectured.”

Rarity turned a shade of bright pink, nearly matching Pinkie’s own cheer inducing coat.

“Woo.” Flitter said. “This got interesting. So… Somepony is a control freak and somepony else represents a threat to order.”

Pinkie Pie nodded. “She tries to organise my chaos…” giggled Pinkie, “but all we manage to do is make a mess.”

Rarity was turning an ever brighter shade of pink.

“Breathe Rarity.” Parasol said. “You’re in fine company. In this room, we have a tangle of polyamorous relationships, one gay mare, one pansexual love demi-goddess who has the hots everyone in this room probably, one interspecies romance that has caused no end of trouble for everypony involved, one straight stallion, and two sisters who are the victims of vicious rumours, gossip, and outright lies just because they are brave enough to love the same stallion, but never at the same time because no matter what other ponies say, they're not into incest. And you’re worried about being a dom and a sub. Trust me, whatever kink you think you should be ashamed of, it is barely noticeable in this mess.”

Rarity nodded slowly, her blush still intensifying.

“An excellent summary of our situation.” Cloudchaser said, nodding. “Ponies say the most awful things about my sister and I.”

“And we have such a good working solution. One of us foalsits Rumble, allowing the other a little uninterrupted playtime with Thunderlane. Everypony involved gets to be happy.” Flitter said. “Why are some ponies so mean?”

“I miss my little brother.” Thunderlane said, beginning to sniffle. “This has got to be awful on my mother, trying to deal with this all alone. I feel awful. I left my mama in a tight spot.”

Flitter and Cloudchaser moved to comfort Thunderlane, standing on either side of him.

“Come on Rarity, we need to go. We have a party to plan and we need to talk. I have an idea.” Pinkie Pie urged.

The friends and lovers sat crowded around the table, eating the food from the basket. Baked goods, fresh fruits and veggies, stuff to fix salads, bottles of cider and strawberry soda, one bottle of grape soda, fresh bread, and a large wedge of cheese.

“So Pinkie has an idea.” Screwloose said.

“It couldn’t hurt to wait and see what is going to happen.” Thunderlane said. “We can hold out here for a few days more I think. I just hope that trouble doesn’t find us.”

“Those two seem so happy together.” Mint said, sighing, feeling a tiny bit drunk on love.

“It was just the other day that they let everything out into the open.” Screwloose said. “What is the term, ‘in the closet’ I think. They came bursting out. We were in Sugarcube Corner together. The day before I was taken…” Screwloose’s words died in her throat.

“Enough of that!” Flitter scolded. She shook her hoof at Screwloose.

“Yeah, no more of that!’ Cloudchaser added.

Screwloose smiled, one ear twitching slightly, her blinking almost synchronised.

“I wonder what Pinkie is up to, throwing a party.” Parasol said, tearing apart a head of lettuce and tossing it into a bowl.

“Will we ever be safe?” Fleagle asked, his wrinkled face furrowed with worry.

Thunderlane broke off a large chunk of cheese and hoofed it over to Fleagle. “No clue. But for right now, we have each other.”

“And that’s enough to get me through.” Mint Jewelup said, slicing a cucumber and some carrots all at the same time. She tossed the slices into a bowl with her magic.

“Tossed salad.” Parasol said, looking into the bowl as it filled with vegetables.

“Nopony has tossed my salad in a while.” Mint lamented. “I do what I can to make other ponies feel loved and happy, but I have my selfish moments.”

There was a collective blush that ignited around the table, Fleagle being the only untouched survivor.

“Salad tossing?” Fleagle said, raising an eyebrow.

Screwloose leaned over and whispered something into Fleagle’s ear, giggling and snickering the entire time. Her heavy breathing seemed to be causing Fleagle some distress. He looked flustered and distracted.

“Fleagle do that sometimes.” Fleagle muttered. “Hard to stay clean.”

A collection of gasps, grunts, and shocked noises filled the air, with Screwloose completely collapsing onto Fleagle, seized by the giggles.

“Nothing wrong with self love. Or being clean.” Mint said, looking around the table. “If I could reach back there, I’d be doing the same thing. You have to love yourself before you can love anypony else.”

“Ugh.” Thunderlane said.

“Oh come on.” Mint said. “If you could reach, I know you’d try it.” Mint said, looking Thunderlane directly in the eye. “You’re adventurous.”

“Adventurous?” Flitter and Cloudchaser said together.

“That was ONE time and it was your birthday!” Thunderlane said, his voice high pitched and squeaky. He cast his glance downward at the table.

Flitter and Cloudchaser began to titter together.

“I know what happened. I know what happened.” Parasol sing songed.

Thunderlane let out a strangled cry.

“Now now Parasol, a lady never pegs a stallion and tells.” Mint said, winking.

Screwloose fell apart completely, clinging to Fleagle, chortling and guffawing, her legs right around Fleagle’s middle, her face buried into his side.

Flitter and Cloudchaser gasped in unison.

Thunderlane sat in stony silence, his face unmoving, his eyes not daring to meet anypony elses. He began to tap on the edge of the table with his hoof.

“Peg?” Said Fleagle.

“Mint made Thunderlane her mare for the night using a toy.” Parasol said.

“Oh.” Said Fleagle. “OH!” He said again, his eyes flying open wide, the whites becoming visible. “OOH!” He reached back with his paw and rubbed his backside thoughtfully.

“Fair is fair.” Mint said. On Thunderlane's birthday, I became his fudge turnover. On my birthday, Thunderlane became my fudge turnover. It was a mutual exchange of anal virginity.”

“I’ve never fudge turnovered.” Flitter said. Cloudchaser shook her head no.

“Mint fudge turnovered me by accident one night.” Parasol said. “She slipped out of the right hole and right into the wrong one. Thankfully, there was a lot of lube. Or else that would have been much, much worse.”

Mint nodded. “Still feel bad about that.”

“Well, we were playing pony rodeo. Kinda my fault as well.” Parasol said.

“You spent several days sitting on bags of frozen veggies.” Mint Jewelup reminisced. “Tell you what. We get out of this somehow, and get back to civilisation, we’ll dig through my toybox, lather up one another with lube, and I’ll become your fudge turnover for the night.”

“Not my thing.” Parasol said, shaking her head. “But we might play pony rodeo again if we ever get out of this. Besides Mint, you know that I like being done, not being the doer.”

Mint fanned herself. “I could give you such a doing right now.”

“I’m going outside for a bit. To visit the pump. Need cold water.” Thunderlane said, shuddering. “I’ll be outside for a bit.”

“Need help?” Flitter said, giving Thunderlane a saucy wink.

“No.” Thunderlane said, disappearing out the door.

“Darn” Flitter pouted.

“Mint Jewelup?” Cloudchaser said, her voice low and filled with a faint hint of fear.

“Yeah Cloudy?” Mint said, adding more vegetables to the salad bowl.

“If I was, say, curious about mares, do you think you could walk me through my first time? I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now. Never seemed like the right time to say anything. Everything has gone crazy though, and I don’t know what is going to happen, but I don’t want something to happen and cause me to lose my chance to ask. Even if it doesn’t get a chance to actually happen, I’d like to know if you would.”

“Of course I would. I collect virginity.” Mint said.

Screwloose’s laughter died suddenly.

“Screwy, love, you alright?” Mint said, suddenly concerned.

“I wonder if I am a virgin or not.” Screwloose said. “I have no way of knowing.”

A terrible silence settled around the table. Fleagle squirmed, pulling Screwloose even closer, one paw rubbing up and down her spine, trying to sooth her.

Mint cleared her throat. “Want me to try and collect yours, just to make sure?”

Screwloose gave a weak smile. She rubbed her forelegs up and down Fleagle’s ribs. “Sorry Minty, but on the odd chance I am, I already have somedoggy in mind.”

“I know.” Mint said, nodding. “But I had to try. I love you Screwloose.”

“I know you do. And I love you back.” Screwloose replied.

The room was dark. A faint trickle of moonlight came through the window. Screwloose squirmed, feeling Fleagle entwined around her, his legs wrapped tightly around her body. The other bed was empty. Parasol and Mint had gone off elsewhere to give Screwloose and Fleagle some privacy.

Not long after the sun had set, Screwloose had made her move, pulling Fleagle close to her on the bed, whispering, begging, asking him to give himself to her, not knowing what the future might bring.

The bed was still damp. The blankets clung to her pelt. Fleagle’s fur was slightly tacky in places. Fleagle didn’t know very much about what he was doing, but he was truly gifted with his long tongue, the rough bumpy texture soothing against Screwloose’s delicate and still somewhat irritated skin. She had endured several explosive climaxes.

And then afterward, when they had writhed together, it happened again, when they were a tangle of legs and squirming bodies. And then Fleagle had knotted inside of her, unable to pull out, leaving them locked together for nearly a half an hour, cuddling, snuggling, whispering together, trying to comfort one another over whatever it was that the future might bring. The occasional tug of his knot as they shifted, trying to get comfortable, had sent her over the edge several times, each time she squeezed him, her legs pulling at tight as possible, grinding her hips against him.

Fleagle’s breathing was heavy and deep. One long ear had fallen over his eyes. His mouth was open and his tongue lolled out.

Whatever was about to happen, Screwloose felt ready.

Author's Note

In the next chapter, Pinkie Pie throws a party.

Chapter 15

All of them sat in the main room, some on the lumpy sofas, others on cushions on the floor, all of them chatting and waiting for something to happen.

Today was the day.

Several days ago, Pinkie Pie had dropped by and told them to be ready and waiting to return to Ponyville. And so the friends and lovers had spent several anxious days waiting, wondering, worrying about what was ahead.

And today was that day.

Mint was engaged in a little sweaty petting with Cloudchaser while Thunderlane watched with rapt attention. Parasol and Flitter were discussing something, both of them quite animated. Screwloose and Fleagle were on the sofa, watching and listening to the ponies around them.

All of them waiting for today.

Everypony knew about Fleagle and Screwloose. There had been some congratulations the day after. There was the air of acceptance. Bonding. Closeness. All of them had bonded. There was no judgment, no disapproval, no hurtful exchanges, not after what had been done to bring the two interspecies lovers back together. It would cheapen everything they had worked for.

Mint felt it was the culmination of what love was meant to be, the shared feeling that now existed between all of them, each of them comfortable with one another. For Mint, it was intoxicating.

One way or another, something either began or ended today with all of them together.

Mint was making bold moves, making furtive little pecks against Cloudchaser’s jawline, both of her hooves working their way under Cloudchaser’s wings. Cloudchaser, for the most part, was now putty in Mint’s hooves.

Thunderlane’s interest was apparent, his wings almost half sprung. At any moment now, he felt that he was going to have to go outside and visit the pump again.

There was a rustle and a commotion outside, a sound, an odd sound, a sudden sound. The companions all froze, none daring to move or say anything, all of them wondering what was going on.

There was a faint knock upon the door.

Parasol was the first to her hooves, cautiously heading toward the door. She took a deep breath, her wings fluttering faintly, and pulled it open.

She could not believe what she saw.

Pinkie Pie stood before her, wearing a black latex suit. Parasol struggled to remember what it was called. A gimp suit perhaps. It was form fitting, hugging every one of Pinkie Pie’s generous plump curves, leaving her shiny, sleek and black.

Behind Pinkie Pie stood an army. Dozens and dozens of ponies stood, all of them smiling. In the middle, there were some large masculine stallions, all of them wearing the most gorgeous sequined ballgowns, carefully applied makeup, long supple eyelashes, and quite a number of them were wearing tiaras.

Four of them had a throne upon their shoulders, and upon the throne sat Rarity, dressed in full dominatrix garb. She flipped a riding crop through the air, twiddling it carelessly.

“Oh hello darlings.” Rarity tittered. “Isn’t my army of drag queens just faaaaabulous? I made their gowns myself. I had to punish a few of them for not holding still during the fitting. Isn’t that right girls?”

The four stallions bearing the throne upon their backs nodded.

“We are quite ready to march on Ponyville. And on to Canterlot if necessary. It is time for the world to witness my fabulosity.” Rarity said, swooning slightly. She suddenly brought the riding crop down upon her own leg, letting out a shrill cry, tittering obscenely. Her army of elite drag queens all grunted in unison.

“We are going to escort you home. So you can freshen up a bit. Settle back in. And we will surround and guard the house for you. Hopefully, the party will come to us.” Pinkie Pie said through an opened zipper on her face mask. “I’ve loaded my party cannon with a special payload.” She pointed the device, born on the backs of several large rather masculine looking mares.

“What in Tartarus?” Thunderlane said, standing there in shock, looking around him, seeing all of the ponies. On the outer edges, there was a brown stallion wearing a red and white polka dot dress. He was also wearing a dog collar, and being led around by a unicorn stallion holding the end of the leash.

Flitter and Cloudchaser couldn’t believe what they saw, and Mint Jewelup was fanning herself with her hoof. Screwloose and Fleagle stood there, silent and in shock.

“Fetch me Screwloose and Fleagle.” Rarity commanded, her jovial tone now gone, replaced with a husky tone of command.

A unicorn stepped forward, wearing a stunning ruby encrusted gown. He was tall and handsome, and had green mascara. He lifted Screwloose first, placing on the platform, and then Fleagle, carefully setting him down.

Rarity reached down and stroked Fleagle. “Hello again dear.” She cooed. She touched Screwloose with a loving gesture. “And you dear, I hope you are feeling better.”

The two sat, on either side of Rarity’s throne, guests of honour.

“It is a good day to be queer.” Somepony announced.

“Take pride!” Another shouted.

“Put our pride on parade!” A voice yelled.

“Pride parade?” Somepony questioned.

“Pride parade!” Somepony answered.

“A moment of silence for all those taken from us.” Lyra said, her voice thick with emotion.

A poignant silence fell upon the crowd. It lasted for several minutes.

“We must get moving. We have a schedule to keep!” Rarity said. “Some ponies are coming down from Canterlot by train. They are going to meet us at the train station just outside of town. Vinyl Scratch and Octavia Melody are bringing a soiree along with them. Oh my, this has taken on a life of its own!”

“I wonder what my mother is going to say about this.” Thunderlane said. He shrugged, and then moved forward to join the fabulous looking mob. “Hi there!” A stallion greeting, waggling his eyebrows. Thunderlane blushed and smiled.

“There are so many of us…” said Parasol, her tone one of disbelief, “so many of us.”

The mob began to move. Flitter and Cloudchaser fell in step, surrounded by ponies, all of them smiling. A group of mares began to congregate around the sisters.

There were many fully sprung wings on display the pegasi portion of the group visibly aroused. This included Thunderlane, which caused Mint no end of amusement. Flitter and Cloudchaser began to rise to the occasion as well.

Parasol walked near the front, leading them on, her head held high, Mint Jewelup beside her, Pinkie Pie directly in front of them, her gimp suit squeaking and making obscene noises as she pranced.

Ponyville awaited.

Over one hundred ponies awaited them at the train station, including another fabulous drag queen division led by Hoity Toity and Photo Finish. Photos were being snapped almost non stop. Sapphire Shores brought her sapphic splendour brigade, a rag tag group of hardened lesbians bent on equal opportunity and tongue in cheek good times.

The respective leaders looked out over their combined armies, all of them looking rather proud. Hoity Toity stood smiling, a purple cape rakishly spilling over his shoulders, his glasses perfectly colour coordinated. Sapphire Shores was resplendent in a blue sapphire encrusted gown, a hallmark creation of Rarity. Her sapphic splendour brigade was also dressed in well coordinated blue, with blue mascara.

As the army gathered, a heady scent of musky arousal formed a cloud around them.

Vinyl Scratch stood on a cargo platform, looking very pleased with herself, nodding her head in time to some unheard by everypony else tune. Octavia stood close by, looking flustered and constantly biting her lip.

“I need to make some... music Vinyl.” She said.

“I know. We will.” Vinyl replied, watching a wagon being loaded with turntables and a mobile sound system.

“We move!” Rarity cried, cracking her riding crop against her throne. Her throne bearers moved forward carefully, steady, still bearing Rarity, her throne, Fleagle, and Screwloose, who was now wearing a tiara of her own. It was delightfully tacky, encrusted with purple and blue gems, and a healthy dash of glitter had been blown into her mane.

Fleagle was wearing a fuzzy purple pink stole and grinning broadly, lost in the moment, his tail wagging, his long tongue out and panting. He was having the time of his life.

“I am the belle of the ball!” A stallion cried in a deep bellowing voice.

“Today, I am the stallion my partner dreams of me being!” A soft feminine voice said delicately, each word spoke with perfect annunciation and inflection.

Madness descended upon Ponyville, and it arrived with a thudding, thumping, orgasmic techno beat.

It felt good to be home, Screwloose reflected. The house was filled with ponies, but that was mostly alright. They were all extended family anyway, she felt. They all had the same common struggle. The outside of the house was surrounded by an army. A fabulous army. Rarity was holding court and granting favours.

There was bedlam in the streets, and certain ponies had taken notice.

Not that it mattered to the partying ponies. Many of the townsponies had come to join them. The Cakes were there, Mr. Cake looking absolutely fabulous in a perfectly cut sun dress and white pearls. Mrs. Cake had her faux leather thigh high boots on and ponies were lining up to lick them. There mood was festive. There was gaiety in the air.

On the other side of town, a large group marched from the asylum, an army of orderlies, all wearing white coats, being led by a contingent of doctors and nurses, Dr. Hornwinkle in the forefront. Almost half of the orderlies were wearing riot gear, the other half having to make due without, as they were a little short on protective garb. There had never been an event quite like this before.

Mass hysteria had fallen upon Ponyville, dogs and ponies living together.

In the middle of the town stood Discord, sensing something epic was about to go down. He snapped his talons, summoning up a floor length evening gown encrusted with a riotous display of different coloured gemstones. He conjured up a mirror, applying his makeup just so, going for basic black mascara and eyeliner. He applied fire wagon red lipstick, smooching at his own reflection. There was a slit running up the side of the gown, revealing his hip. He ran his paw down his bare leg.

“I feel shexshay!” Discord said, still trying to pucker up and smooch himself in the mirror. He endured a nearly orgasmic shudder. “I feel pretty, oh so pretty, beautiful witty and gay!”

He turned and sashayed off towards the party with his date, his own reflection, who was wearing a nice tuxedo in the mirror, his hips rocking sexily back and forth like a ringing bell.

Hoity Toity saw them first, the army of white coats and riot gear. “Egads, who wears white after Labour Day?” He moaned, his sensibilities taking a major wound. He clutched at his barrel and staggered from the nearly fatal blow to his fashion sense.

“Girls!” Rarity shouted. “Look alive!”

Rarity’s army moved into a defensive phalanx, blocking the door. Sapphire Shores’ sapphic splendour brigade formed a rank in front of them, announcing they could lick any foe as they did so.

Discord arrived, showering confetti everywhere and hugging Pinkie Pie, squeaking his paw along her gimp suit. He looked rather pleased with himself. There was no way that Celestia could blame him for this mess, he was just an innocent bystander.

Screwloose emerged from the door, and found herself hoisted back upon Rarity’s throne platform. Mint wiggled out beneath them and stood by, smiling broadly, feeling empowered.

Glitter twinkled in the breeze.

“Has the whole town gone mad?” Dr. Hornwinkle shouted.

“No.” Said Screwloose. “We’ve come out into the open.”

“You can’t have her!” Mint shouted. “You can’t fix all of us and just make this go away.”

One of Rarity’s queens sashayed forward, wiggling his hips in a seductive manner. “I want to see you fix me.” He demanded in a gravelly voice.

Dr. Hornwinkle grimaced. “Order must be restored. Disperse at once.”

Pinkie Pie pushed her way through the crowd, advancing on Dr. Hornwinkle. She whipped a dildo out from a concealed location, it was still wet and glistening.

“Just try to make us leave!” Pinkie Pie shouted, brandishing the slick looking dildo like a sword. For a mere moment, Rarity’s orange tongue flicked over her lips, her eyes narrowing into slits, and her face crinkled with desire.

“You took everything from me!” Screwloose shouted. “Everything! You stole my memories! You tried to fix me! Tried to change me from what I am just because I didn’t conform to your standards!”

“We are trying to make you better!” Dr. Hornwinkle shouted.

Pinkie Pie slapped him in the face with the dildo, leaving behind a soaked red welt on his cheek. Orderlies in riot gear began to move forward.

“Protect my plaything girls!” Rarity shouted. An army of queens moved into place around Pinky. Their gowns were blinding in the daylight.

“You know Dr. Hornwinkle, you’d be considered sick too. You married a pegasus. Something that was completely unheard of at one time.” Mint shouted. “Would you want somepony taking her away from you?”

Dr. Hornwinkle stood defiant, unmoving.

“What gives you the right to do what you did to me?” Screwloose demanded. “I don’t even know who I am anymore. I might still have family. I might still have a mother or a father that loves me and is worried sick about where I am. You’ve ruined my life!”

Discord snapped his fingers. All of the white lab coats were now fiendishly pink. Labial pink. He whistled innocently as the orderlies began to squirm.

Pinkie Pie, safe behind a protective group of drag queens, swiveled her party cannon towards the group of orderlies. The crowd before her parted, opening, making room for her to fire. “Leave now.” Pinkie warned. “And never come back. This is your last warning.”

“How many others have been like me? Different? How many ponies have you fixed?” Screwloose said. “You once told me that confession is good for a troubled mind. Is your mind troubled Dr. Hornwinkle?”

Dr. Hornwinkle scowled. His orderlies were losing morale. Nurse Redheart was now leaning on a tall stallion wearing a dazzling yellow dress, and he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Her nurses hat was gone and replaced with a tiara.

Something happened, but nopony could say what. Later, when this was a story to be told, there were a hundred different versions of what had happened.

The ponies in riot gear surged forward, the orderlies in labial pink coats turned tail and retreated, and Pinkie’s cannon went off.

It had been loaded with a payload of well lubricated dildos and plotplugs. There were casualties among the retreating orderlies. There was much butthurt. Painful plots proliferated profoundly.

Anarchy ejaculated into the streets, the inevitable conflict just beginning. Pinkie Pie darted forward, still brandishing a dildo like a sword, dancing around on her hindhooves, the dildo whipping through the air, making whooshy wooshy noises as she whipped it about.

“EEEEEEENOUGH!”

A lavender alicorn and a pink cotton candy alicorn landed in the middle of the fabulous fracas.

“I leave on one tiny vacation to see my brother and my sister in law and I start getting worrisome letters telling me to come home at once, there is trouble in Ponyville. I want an explanation about what is going on here. And Pinkie Pie, what are you doing?” Princess Twilight Sparkle demanded.

Pinkie Pie dropped her dildo and stood there, grinning sheepishly.

“Is that… Is that, wait, is that a dildo? What in Tartarus is going on here?” Twilight Sparkle commanded. She looked confused. She looked around, seeing Rarity’s fabulous army, Rarity sitting on a throne in full dominatrix garb, ponies in riot gear, it was too much.

She turned to Discord. “Can you explain what is going on?”

Discord quailed. “You want me… To tell you… What is going on?” He shot his date in the mirror a glance. “I had nothing to do with this whatsoever.”

Screwloose explained everything. Dr. Hornwinkle had tried to interrupt, but there was a snap of claws from somewhere and Dr. Hornwinkle was suddenly in a gimp suit, his mouth zippered shut. To say that Twilight Sparkle looked disturbed was putting it mildly.

Her facial tics rivaled Screwloose’s.

Cadance was looking around at the fabulously dressed mob and smiling. Love was love to the Princess of Love. And there was a lot to love here. A love of a keen fashion sense being only the tip of the plotplug. Somepony floated a festive feather boa around her neck.

When Screwloose had had her say, Twilight Sparkle looked sternly at Dr. Hornwinkle. She did not seem pleased. Or friendly.

One of the plot blasted orderlies was nearby, now chatting up a rather stallionish looking mare with a broad jaw and a deep voice.

Twilight turned her gaze upon him and he fell silent. Twilight turned to Cadance, looking for guidance, comfort, something, anything. Cadance was now wearing oversized bright yellow sunglasses now in addition to her feather boa, and she was sipping punch through a crazy straw.

Fleagle cautiously crept forward, the crowd parting for him, approaching Twilight Sparkle. She stood, now staring at him, her face solemn and serious.

“Princess?” Fleagle said, crouching on all fours.

“Please, call me Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight said.

“Me Fleagle.” Fleagle returned. “Might Fleagle ask something of you?”

“Sure, why not.” Twilight said, watching an inflated beach ball getting tossed around the crowd.

“Fleagle wants to stay in Ponyville. With me Screwloose.” Fleagle said pleadingly, looking sad and rather adorable.

Twilight Sparkle sighed. “Of course you can stay.”

Fleagle pointed at Dr. Hornwinkle.

“Oh him?” Twilight said. “Oh, I wouldn’t be worried about what he might do. He’s going to be getting some help for his condition.”

Fleagle nodded.

Twilight Sparkle observed the Cake family, paragons of the community, and she felt something fragile in her mind pull free.

Strangely, she felt better. She looked at Pinkie Pie, and then at Rarity, and then noticed Rarity staring at Pinkie Pie. She blinked a few times. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense.

“Princess?” A deep voice asked.

“Yes?” Twilight said, hating the title.

“Could you marry us?” The voice replied.

A stallion wearing a brilliant violet gown with blue trim stepped forward, another stallion by his side, this one rather plain looking.

“I don’t even understand why this is an issue.” Twilight stammered.

“We don’t have the same rights!” Lyra shouted.

“No we don’t!” Bon Bon added.

Twilight looked at the mob. All of them were staring at her. Eyes blinked. Cadance was looking at her too.

“Just be with who you love.” Twilight said.

“That isn’t enough!” Somepony shouted angrily. “We’re not sick! We’re ponies too. We deserve to be happy. We don’t want to be hauled away in the middle of the night and have our minds messed with.”

“Oh, that is is going to stop.” Twilight promised.

“But we want to be married.” The stallion protested.

“Fine. You are now married.” Twilight said in exasperated tones.

“Really?” The stallion said ecstatically.

Twilight nodded.

Cadance looked around. “Anypony else? I’ll do it. With some enthusiasm.” She shot Twilight a scathing glance.

There was suddenly a flood of ponies rushing forward, and Discord shoved to the front of the line holding his mirror. Fleagle retreated, finding his way back to Screwloose.

“Are these marriages legal? A mare inquired.

“We will make them so.” Twilight said, rubbing her head with a hoof.

“Celestia never allowed this.” Octavia said, moving through the line, frogmarching Vinyl forward.

“Auntie is a little behind the times.” Cadance apologised. “If she saw this here today, she would understand.”

Mint, Parasol, Screwloose, and Fleagle sat comfortably in their home. It was late. The party still raged outside. There had been many marriages.

But not for Screwloose and Fleagle. Not yet. Soon, they had agreed, but there was a lot of things left to do. Like going out on dates. Picking up where they had left off.

“Things worked out well.” Mint said, squeezing Parasol. “You have a protective order from a Princess to keep you safe and secure. They’re going to try and see if they can find any of your family or old friends. There is a lot to celebrate.” Mint yawned.

Parasol frowned. “Going to impossible to sleep tonight with all that ruckus outside.”

“I like the ruckus outside.” Mint said.

Fleagle yawned.

“I wonder if I’ll have puppies.” Screwloose said, thinking aloud.

“Puppies?” Fleagle replied.

“Equestria is full of crossbreeds.” Mint commented.

“I think I’d like puppies someday.” Screwloose said.

Parasol poked Mint.

“I’ll take that massage with a happy ending now.” She murmured.

Author's Note

So it ends.

In madness. Just how it should end.

I can't believe I just shipped Discord with his own reflection, but hey, somepony had to.

Comments, feelings, scathing bits of hatred, post them below. I want to know what you think. I have a hazy idea for a sequel, but I doubt I'll actually write it.