The One with the Uptight Cellist and the Raving DJ
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The One with the Uptight Cellist and the Raving DJ
“Our dearest Octavia,
We are so very proud of you! The big Canterlot finish of your Equestria-wide tour was absolutely fabulous last night! Your father and I couldn't be happier. You've done everything we've you've ever wanted. You are a world famous cellist, toast of Canterlot, the princesses' favourite.
As such it occurs to us that you won't be needing our financial support from now on. Not that we couldn't spare some money – frankly, we've got bits pouring out our ears – but we think you need to learn to fend for yourself.
All you need is to play the cello for high-class ponies for the rest of your life and you'll be set. Easy enough, your father says. I'm inclined to agree.
Love, Mum.”
Octavia let the letter fall to the floor. She walked to the window and leaned out; her spire provided an excellent vista of the sparkling Canterlot night. She couldn't help but sigh.
That has to be the sorriest excuse for exposition I have ever seen, she thought. Is that the best you can do?
Well, something needed to establish the popular fanon that everybody already knows, so I supposed it best to get it out of the way quickly.
Octavia rolled her eyes. Right.
Anyway. Rich parents, high expectations, and overwhelming ennui; such was Octavia Melody's life. All her life she's been striving to live up to her parent's wants. She completed music school top of her class, she became a renowned cellist in Equestria's most sought-after band, and now money was thrown at her left and right.
One might say she had it all.
Damn right I do, Octavia thought, trying to conceal even from herself the crushing emptiness that was in her heart.
Yet no matter how hard she tried to bury her feelings of loneliness and inadequacy, something was missing from Octavia Melody's life. Something that would rekindle a youthful spark in her. Something wild, something crazy, and possibly neon haired.
On a whim, Octavia decided to do something entirely uncharacteristic of her. She left her hoity-toity, high-and-mighty apartment in the tallest tower of Canterlot, walked on down to the buzzing streets, and didn't take two looks at the snazzy theatres and classy restaurants she otherwise so frequently frequented.
No, this time her hooves took her to the parts of the city she'd never visited: those with dirty clubs and flashing discos, where drug-dealers stood on corners and a cacophony of electronic music echoed from sunset 'till rise.
Why was Octavia doing this? She thought it was best not to question it, but instead go with the flow. Perhaps fate had something nice in store for her.
She soon found a club that suited her liking – it smelled a little less horrible than the others, perhaps – and Octavia walked in. Immediately her ears were assaulted by “wub-step” and “dropped bass” and other such music-like things that the new generation liked.
Positively horrendifying, Octavia thought, even if she could barely hear herself think. Maybe she shouldn't have come, after all. She'd never find anything worth her while here.
“Hey, Tavi!” somepony called.
Octavia turned her head and scanned the room full of erratically dancing ponies, trying to discern the source amidst the flashing lights and booming loudspeakers.
“That you, Tavi?” the voice asked again.
Octavia found her now. The voice belonged to none other than the DJ herself. Her hooves worked away at the scratched vinyl discs, pulling and pressing, and all around doing their best to ruin even the semblance of rhythm the computer-generated music had.
The DJ beckoned Octavia over, and, raising an eyebrow, Octavia complied. She had to stick her face right into the DJ's to have any hope of her words reaching the white pony.
“Do I know you?” Octavia shrieked.
“You should,” the DJ replied.
Octavia tried to ask who the pony was, but the DJ couldn't catch it over the noise. After a prolonged deaf back-and-forth, the DJ grabbed her hoof and pulled her into a back room, away from the noise near the dance-floor. She locked the door behind them and grinned at Octavia.
“Who in Equestria are you?” Octavia asked, relieved to hear her own voice.
“Don't you recognise me?” the DJ asked. “Oh, hold on.” She removed her oversized sunglasses and swept her blue jungle of a mane from her face.
Octavia wondered why anypony would wear sunglasses at night, much less inside. Clearly, whoever this insane yet strangely attractive young mare was, Octavia had no business with her.
“It's me, Vinyl Scratch,” the DJ said. “Don't you remember me?”
Oh, of course. Vinyl Scratch used to be Octavia's high school dorm room mate, she recalled now. Or was it college? Her memory failed her. Could have been both, actually. Whatever the case, what an absolutely unforeseen yet amazingly convenient happenstance.
“I remember now,” Octavia replied. “You are the one with the dysfunctional family, always broke, and zero inhibition. I come from a high-class family, and that means I do not like you. What do you want?”
“I just thought it was kinda crazy, you turning up in my club. Oh, and I wanted to tell you you're hot.”
Octavia's jaw dropped. “Pah, the nerve. That is exactly what I was talking about. I never! We are complete opposites.”
“Well, we both do music,” Vinyl replied. “So we've got that going for us.”
“Still, what makes you think I even bend that way?”
“Everypony bends that way.”
Octavia couldn't deny Vinyl's impeccable logic. She did bend that way. Apparently.
Vinyl batted her eyebrows and bit her lip, eyeing Octavia up and down. “So?”
“I am not interested in you, you unwashed delinquent,” Octavia said, looking away and putting up a hoof in protest.
The two then engaged passionate intercourse.
It was that awkward kind of passionate intercourse, where you're not sure if you want it at first, but then you get a little more into it, and you realise you really did want it all along. By then you're some crazed animal, given in to your deepest, carnal desires, and your partner is screaming for help because you brought out the whip, but when you stop, they ask that you continue.
And since there was no bed in the room, they had to do it on the table, and on the floor, and wherever you kinky bastards like, in whatever positions small lesbian horses can. Long story short, there was a lot of cleaning to do afterwards, and they both felt great shame that it happened.
So overall, it was a good sex.
Vinyl and Octavia lay beside one another on the thoroughly sticky floor. Octavia's tongue hung loose from her open mouth, and one of her hind legs was still twitching. Vinyl, still huffing, climbed on top of her and gave a cheeky grin.
“I would appreciate if my parents were left unaware that this ever occurred,” Octavia whispered.
“But we're going to do it again, right?” Vinyl asked.
“Yes, yes, quite,” Octavia answered.
The One Named after the Chocolate Bar
Twilight Sparkle lay on her bed, looking at the ceiling. Things just haven't been the same since she became a princess. Sure, other princesses have been nothing but helpful, and her friends were enthusiastic. They had more enthusiasm, perhaps, than the lavender ~~unicorn~~ alicorn herself.
Change, she wondered. Change is the strangest thing. It destroys everything in its path. Its coming is celebrated and lamented at the same time.
Twilight's whole life turned upside down when she sprouted wings. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't lie to herself: she wasn't the pony she used to be. She was different now, try as she might to retain herself. Change. She turned the thought over in her head. Ponies change, she thought. That's the way of life.
While she lay alone in the library, her inner turmoil subsided. She liked the simplicity of the Golden Oaks. From the moment she set hoof in Ponyville, and her life spiralled into a cycle of endless battles and victories against foes great and small, the library remained the only constant thing in her life.
She took security in the knowledge that the tree was part of the show's status quo. Nothing bad would ever happen to it.
She turned onto her belly, and pulled closer a book she'd cast aside. “Fifty Bales of Hay” was one of her guilty pleasures, one she could enjoy only when the prying eyes of her friends – or Spike's – weren't nearby.
Twilight liked that book. Perhaps a little more than society would deem acceptable, especially for a princess. Just as she licked her lip and the tip of her hoof slid towards her nether regions, however, there was knocking on the door below.
Twilight froze. She waited silently, hoof halfway down, hoping that whoever disturbed her peace would go away. But then there came more knocking, longer and louder.
With a frustrated groan, Twilight jumped off the bed – wiping her hoof on the blanket along the way – and walked downstairs to the door.
As she opened up, a familiar mare stuck her head in. Her big, pointy hat nearly poked Twilight's eye out.
“Hello there, Twilight!” said Trixie, bouncing inside.
Twilight blinked. “And you are?”
Trixie gasped, slapping a hoof theatrically at her forehead. “What? Don't you remember the Great and Powerful Trixie? We did battle and I apologised and everything.”
“Oh,” Twilight said. “I remember. Sorry, it's been a while. What brings you here? I thought you were a travelling showpony.”
“True indeed,” Trixie said. Her expression quickly changed from jovial to sad – perhaps with a hint of shame. A flush of red filled her cheeks. She sat down and looked at her hoof, poking at the floor. “For the longest time, I didn't want to admit, but... I couldn't deny myself any longer.”
Twilight raised a brow. “Why not? You seemed alright, last time we parted ways.”
With a sudden jump, Trixie turned her head up. She placed her front hooves on Twilight's shoulders, and she leaned close – uncomfortably close. “I love you, Twilight Sparkle.”
“What.”
“I can't explain it,” Trixie explained. “For some unfathomable reason, I cannot stop thinking about you. Your pretty face. Your beautiful eyes. Your amazing magical talents!” Trixie sat back, once again putting a hoof to her forehead. “It's true! The Great and Powerful Trixie is in great and powerful love!”
For Twilight, it was difficult to fathom. A humble, small town ~~librarian~~ Princess of Books, and a boasting, audacious showmare.
“Do you really feel that way?” Twilight asked.
“Hah!” Trixie cackled, pointing a hoof straight at Twilight. “You have fallen from the ruse, Princess Twilight! The Great and Powerful Trixie would never fall for you! How could you possibly imagine—”
Twilight pulled the door open. “Get out.”
Trixie fell to the floor and crawled to Twilight's hooves. “No, I'm sorry,” she said, still on the floor, wrapping her front legs around one of Twilight's. “I really do love you. But it's like, lies and badly concealed insecurity are the Great and Powerful Trixie's defining traits. It's hard, getting rid of them. I need you in my life, Twilight.”
Twilight shook her hoof out of Trixie's grasp. “We met like two times. How could you be in love with me? What makes you think I my barn doors even swing that way?”
“Look,” Trixie said, craning her neck to look into Twilight's eyes. “We've been through this. Everypony swings that way.”
“That is a statistical impossibility because science,” Twilight said. Yet with Trixie on the floor before her, she couldn't help but let her mind wonder. It was cute, in a way, how Trixie changed her ways. How eager she was to learn the magic of friendship. Twilight couldn't deny it: there was a strange magnetism between the two of them.
“But I think you're right,” Twilight said. “I just discovered something very important about myself. I should write to Celestia at once. Spike!”
Trixie got up, dusting off her cape. “It's weird, how ponies change.”
“I was just thinking about that,” Twilight said.
“You're so deep,” Trixie replied.
“Let's not go there,” Twilight responded.
Trixie giggled. “Oh, but I'd like to go there,” she said, biting her lip and batting her brows.
Twilight took a step back. “Trixie, no.”
Trixie pounced Twilight. “Trixie yes!”
The two then engaged in passionate intercourse.
It was that exceedingly satisfying kind of passionate intercourse, where the participants had been ticking bombs of sexual frustration. Once the cap is off, and raw emotion is allowed to burst from its hidden recesses, there is no stopping it. The release is doubly as satisfying when both parties have had a long-standing animosity against one another, like Twilight and Trixie here.
No toys. No tools. Just two bodies, and everything they can do.
It was like that one time where I took the wrong turn home after a night on town, and woke up in an alley with a missing kidney. I had to call one of my old army buddies to track down the perpetrator – and after a whole year devoted to the chase, I finally found the criminal. And that young medical school dropout was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. All I remember is that the morning after our night of passion, I woke up with two left kidneys.
Of course, I didn't traumatise a baby dragon watching me from behind a bookshelf, but you know, whatever floats your boat.
So overall, it was a good sex.
Spent, Trixie placed an ear on Twilight's rapidly pulsating chest, feeling her every gaping breath, every rapid beat of her heart.
“So this is what it feels like to be loved,” Trixie whispered.
Twilight planted a kiss on Trixie's forehead. “I used to wonder what friendship with benefits could be.”
