Pinkie Pie had had friends in the adult entertainment industry for a few years now. Penpals, really, but wasn’t that just another way of saying inter-continental ballistic friendship? Several times a year it’d be in the mailbox, though; once it had been half-buried under a stunned Derpy in the garden.

It was the unmarked brown and cardboard-lined envelope, generously laden with sticky, gooey stamps for long-distance travel and the destination: one CC SugarCube Corner, Ponyville. Sometimes that was written with a graceful flourish, the hallmark of a unicorn. Other times in choppy-blocky script more particular to earth ponies or pegasi. However it came, Pinkie Pie would always know just what it was, announce the mail’s arrival with a happy squawk and whisk it away to her bedroom. And, since Pinkie Pie regularly received paid-for packages through the post, letters too, and the Cakes were busy enough and trusting enough, the question of its contents never came up.

Today was technically a day off for her. Pinkie Pie as often as not worked off days just the same as regular days. Playing them really, just really, really productively at that, like she did everyday. Letting a calendar or a clock tell her when to do seemed one of the silliest things. They didn’t even have mouths!

But today, at least for an hour or two, she sauntered back on up to her cozy bedroom, envelope in tow. Gummy was alert and ready for her at the corner of the bed. He blinked.

“Nearly had them together that time,” she said encouragingly and flopped down onto the bed with a bouncy thump that launched the gator, unflinching, near-ceiling height. He landed neatly with a tickle on her stomach. Pinkie Pie scratched his chin, then held the envelope over her head. The blankets were a fluffy blast-crater around her.

Gummy knew all about what this was, of course he did. She trusted the runty alligator implicitly. He couldn’t speak for starters, unless he could and simply chose not to, in which case he’d never told anypony her secrets all this time that he could have and had thus proven himself more than worthy of her trust anyway.

She tore open the mail. Photos, Oh! Letters, Ooh! A full, glossy and newly issued magazine? Oooh!

She was so proud of them!

In fact, humble reader, let us step back for a moment. Back in time, to where this began.

Imagine a simpler Pinkie Pie. A country girl turned townie. Happy, but...frantic. Frantic to do...more, to see more. To have her hooves in every pie, forgive the pun.

And excitable young mares should always be forgiven for poking curious noses about.

The magazines were obviously shared, in any case. Simply tucked in under the bathroom sink with the cleaners. Pushed back, yes, but not hidden as such.

Pinkie Pie never locked a door, but for once she did. The Cakes weren’t even in the house. They were already trusting her to mind it, if not run the bakery in their absence, which was closed for the afternoon.

But still!

Pinkie Pie had lain on the fluffy white bath mat, flipping through pages and wiggling by turns until she had a loose circle of double-page prints spread out around her. She just couldn’t keep the giggles in.

It was so silly, all of it, bright and so...silly, though in Pinkie’s own words it would have been expressed more like “Squiggly wiggly, goodness sharing feeling inside, you know?” Also silly. She would have said silly. It was a very good word to know.

The magazines’ contents were silly and weird and random and wonderful. She propped herself up, getting as close as she could to soak in every detail. There were more mares than stallions featured. Their expressions were flirty, seductive or ecstatic, whereas the boys tended more to faces taut with concentration and exertion. Postures, expressions... shapes... sizes. Helpful, discrete blurbs put names and a rudimentary biography to them all.

The second big surprise of the day was in Pinkie Pie’s hips. And her hoof. Up in the air. Moving together. Her cheek smooshed the glossy page rhythmically, crinkling it some. Slow, firm rocking motions moved her body. Not conscious, but powerfully deliberate. Pinkie Pie closed her eyes and let this new sensation take over.

It felt good, really good, and the more she did it the more she wanted to. With her free hoof she she reached back and tugged gently at her inner thigh.

She was at it a while. It was a memorable afternoon. Very engaging. Stimulating.

Later on, when she’d had the names and faces and blurbs all memorized she sent the first letter. After all, there was a mailing address right there in the back of each issue. All the ponies in the editorials were just doing it wrong, no biggie.

Well, it was a bundle of letters, really. She’d draft a few in the evenings, just before bed after a satisfying, tiring day’s work. Each night there was a lit candle, a sheaf of stiff cards and one pencil-chewing, thoughtful-looking, alligator chin-scratching Pinkie Pie.

Hi Horny Larry why do you look strained all the time in your pictures you should have more fun do you still work part time like and getting your school thingy what do they call a bachelor’s degree if its for a girl when you say you're an artist what artist do you mean like...

Hi Sugar Berry did you ever decide if you are a cat person or dog person I can’t decide either but I don’t have either so I don’t have to but it’s harder but oh I am definitely an alligator pony anyway his name is Gummy but he is very nice and good and a good listener and...

There were others. More than a dozen in all. After some deliberation and, suspecting their names were pretend, Pinkie Pie signed them all as ‘Kiss Me Pink.’

She was very pleased with herself for that one. And that, as she crammed them all into the mailbox the next morning, was that.

Fast forward some years, past one exploding Princess (she got better), one exploding draconequus (he got better) and one exploding Canterlot (it got better) Pinkie Pie had kept in regular, infrequent, unlikely contact with her pen pals.

Only a few had ever replied to that first round of letters, and some had stopped since. That was okay. She’d just turned her attentions to the those that kept in touch. Horny Larry and Sugar Berry in particular didn’t just reply with one or two lines; they really contributed.

And today (well, sometime in the last month) they’d had a shoot together!

I can’t believe you talked me into doing the cinnamon thing! You said adding hot sauce would make it doable! IT DOESN’T!! I got it all over my kitchen! (Little lightning-shooty clouds had been drawn in around the scratched-in capitals, but there were other idle doodlings of faces and prancing pony-forms in the margins) Look at the second feature, Pinky! (That was the nickname Horny Larry had come up with for ‘Kiss Me Pink’, funnily enough.)

I knew you knew Sugar Berry but I never worked with her before. It was really awkward, actually! But good!! I didn’t know how to say anything but she just came out and said it and during the shoot because what are the chances and she made this joke about ‘pen pals in porn’ being the next big thing and we kept laughing and the photographer got so flustered he made us come back in the afternoon for another take. But we actually got paid extra for that, and that NEVER happens! Isn’t that neat?

BUT THEN He ended up liking the first set of pictures even more! I can’t remember the last time I had that much actual FUN on the job! When we went for a coffee break she was telling me all about...

Pinkie Pie tensed up. Like a smile-burst, building pressure underground. Her senses tinged. Usually that just meant she was casually pleasuring herself as she read (Hey, these were adult entertainment professionals, after all, and sometimes they sent her novelties and mementos), but today it meant something different.

In one hoof was the letter from Horny Larry. He’d writ right around all down the back of the page too! Pinkie Pie held off on finishing it, following her suspicions. In her other hoof she fished up the letter from Sugar Berry.

...Actually smiling. How rare is that for a guy? After showers he bought me coffee, [My feathers were still wet and we’re out in public like Normal Ponies] and he put in brown sugar. Brown Sugar. He said it was an accident, but I’ve always preferred my coffee with brown sugar. Two spoons. It seems silly and insignificant as I write it down now, but it was this big thing for me. Big Thing.

Pinkie Pie trembled with pent up glee. Both her porny ponies were talking about each other! To paraphrase Rainbow Dash: -Awesome-

She skimmed lines anxiously, randomly, across both letters:

...just gets me, you know? Totally knows what its been like!

...keep thinking back to that afternoon...

...ever just have this feeling, Pinky?

...but I don’t know...

...it’s crazy...

...it’s silly...

...sillly. Impossible and silly...

...pointless and silly to think...

Pinkie Pie tossed the letters up in a flurry of frustration, yelling inanely at the ceiling. Where was her pencil?! Where was her paper?! What about confetti bombs? She needed confetti bombs!

She scribbled words down madly, hanging over the side of the bed and pressing it against the floor to write.

...Go for it you don’t even know I will LITERALLY GET A PRINCESS to zap youTWO PRI— She hastily counted all the Princesses she knew —FIVE PRINCESSES TO ZAP YOU if you don’t please please PLEASE JUST GIVE IT A SHOT OKAY!!

Also hi let me know how it goes I’m serious like super duper cereal is the most important meal of the day serious!!!

Meticulously, word for word she copied it onto a second letter. She veritably flung them into crisp white envelopes, confetti bombs too, sealed the sticky glue on with alligator drool and raced down the stairs, fumbling to write the names and address on the railing.

“Hey has Derpy taken the mail yet?” she spewed in a jumble, flying past a nonplussed Cupcake.

“Uh, oh. She’s there right now actually. You’ve got letters for her?”

“YES! Derpy! Two letters to go! Super sexpress! Are you up for it?!”

The pegasus jumped, then smiled. She saluted. “Right away Pinkie Pie!”

Derpy rummaged diligently through her bag, fished out a roll of stamps and slathered both envelopes in the little stickers. Fighting back tears as the letters were whisked away, somewhat erratically, into the sky, was Pinkie Pie. “They take off so fast,” she whimpered.

The suspense was going to drive her crazy. How long until a reply came through? A month? At least! After a solemn second thought, she decided to stick with hope. She really believed they’d get together. It was a warm, heart-tickly thought.

“I’ll be back down in an hour or two,” Pinkie said as she skipped back inside, all frantic haste gone from her. “I just want to finish up some stuff first.”

“Take your time, dearie.”

Pinkie Pie went back to her room. Snuggled into her blanket crater.

She popped open the magazine, still with its freshly-laminated smell and shiny pages. She flicked over to the second feature.

Horny Larry and Sugar Berry! Ah! They were so cute together! Across Eight Whole Pages! She snuggled their smiling, bright-eyed, sexy images. And then took the next hour...or two...to have a really nice clop. Because hey, as had been said, they were adult entertainment professionals. Happy looking ones at that.

And, with any luck, soon to be a whole lot happier.

Author's Note

I can say in all honesty and confidence that you've never read anything quite like this.