Author's Note

As a precaution, I'll add the "infidelity" tag to this chapter, but it's NOT for the typically nefarious reasons. Indeed, Mrs. Cake weaves a complicated tale, as you'll soon discover.

Also, big thanks to Dewdrops on the Grass for her pre-reading and advice!

Episode 15 - Tell Me Sweet Little Lies [Mrs. Cake]

Dear Red Shoes,

I must admit that I was very happy to read that your inbox was once again open to submissions. I had finally mustered the courage to try and write this letter a while back, but you seemed to disappear all of a sudden. But, whatever kept you away, I hope you’re ok and I’m glad you’re back too. Because you’re the only pony I can send this too without feeling like I just destroyed my entire universe. Well, here goes, I suppose.

Lies are a funny thing. When you’re a filly, you get punished every time you’re caught, but you quickly figure out that the punishment scales with the size of the lie. The bigger the whopper, the longer you’re grounded.

As you get older though, you realize that it was the small lies that posed the real danger all along. The smaller the lie, the easier it is to make – and get away with. And once you get away with the first one, the next one becomes just a bit easier to make, and the one after that, and the one after that. Worst of all, you get so used to it you never notice anything is wrong; not until you’re completely ensnared in a web of your own deceit.

Take it from me, a housewife trapped in a web of lies so deep, so multilayered, that undoing even one string would destroy both her marriage and her family.

And it all started with one sweet little lie…

The first lie was literally saccharine sweet.

It was barely six in the morning. We both should have been downstairs by then to prep the bakery for the morning rush.

“Mhmm… that’s really good…”

Instead I was crouched down on the bathroom floor, slathering my husband’s dick with a little bit of whipped frosting and a lot of my tongue. With his forehooves propped up on the counter above me, I couldn’t see his reactions. But I didn’t need to, really. His continued moans and grunts, to say nothing of the little twitch he gave every time I teased his medial ring, told me I was hitting all the right spots.

“Right there honey; o-oh yes…”

I knew if I kept up such a torrid pace he’d finish pretty quickly. Normally I’d love to tease him to no end, but at that moment a quick finish was exactly what I needed. I curled my tongue and swirled it around his shaft in quick, rapid circles. After a few seconds I felt his whole body tense up like a coiled spring, just he always does right before he—

“C-Cumming!”

With a practiced ease that came from having done this more times than I’d cared to count, I gently grabbed his dick and lined it up with the measuring cup right as his head flared and shot out the first of many thick ropes of cum.

“Ah, there you go, my love. Let it all out for me.”

Unfortunately for my rather heated nethers, there wasn’t enough time for him to return the favor. But we shared more than a few kisses as we cleaned up.

“You really think this will work?” he asked with a toothbrush half lodged in his mouth.

“I have high hopes,” I replied, offering him the most reassuring smile I could. “Besides, at this point, what do we have to lose? Nothing else has worked.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed while he continued to brush. After he finished up he turned and grabbed me into a hug, which I gladly returned with everything I had. “Then I’ll have hope too, Chiffon. Still, kinda weird that they’re making you do all of this in person. Usually you can just mail samples in and they send the potion or whatever back to us.”

“I know, I know,” I leaned back a bit to look at Carrot. “It is different, but apparently their process is especially time sensitive, so speed is key to optimal results, or so they say. That’s why I booked the morning train to Neigh Orleans, and the overnight train back. In other words,” I pecked him on the lips. “Faster I get home, the faster we can put the potion to use.”

The time-sensitive part wasn’t entirely a lie. Time really was of the essence if I was going to make this work. But for entirely different reasons.

I waited for Carrot to go downstairs before carefully pouring half of the sample into a small glass jar. I tightened the cap until I heard a soft click, at which point a small magic capsule affixed to the underside of the lid activated, preserving the jar’s contents for travel. This was supposed to keep the jar’s contents safe for twenty-four hours at most, so the clock was ticking in more ways than one.

Sample secured, I finished dressing and packing my bags, then headed downstairs. I could only spare a few minutes to assist Carrot with some kitchen prep before I had to trot over to the train station. Mercifully, nopony else at the station tried to talk to me, and I was able to slip onto the train relatively unnoticed.

I took a seat alone by the window, and waited for the horn blasts that signaled the train’s departure. A few minutes later I felt the train lurch into motion, and the town began to slowly recede into the distance.

The first string of the web was laid out.

The moment I stepped off of the streetcar I sorely wanted to jump back onboard. Sure it would be heading back the way I came, but at least the breeze would be hitting me again. Without it, the air hung over me like a wet towel. A soaking, impossibly humid towel to be exact, one that had been draped over me from the moment the train had arrived at the city’s central station.

“Honestly, how does anypony live here? Ugh…” I futilely tried to fan myself with my hat while I waited for the streetcar to switch directions and begin its return journey to the far northern end of the tree-lined avenue. Once the crossing signal turned green, I trotted away from the main street and entered the heart of the Prench Quarter.

My first visit to Neigh Orleans was for an international cooking competition and convention, but that was over ten years ago now. I was fresh out of culinary school, newly married, and brimming with confidence. My souffles didn’t quite make the cut, as it turned out, leaving me just off the podium in fourth place in my group. But looking back, it wasn’t a bad start at all for a newcomer. And, since the competition partly subsidized travel for the invited contestants, it gave Carrot and I an opportunity for a bit of a honeymoon that we otherwise couldn’t have afforded.

As I tried not to lose myself in the maze of streets and side alleys, my mind got more than a bit lost in the memories of that trip. Soaking in the music and culture of this vibrant city, voodoo shamans, sidewalk psychics, and more than a few drinks with enough potency to knock out an alicorn. “We were both so green behind the withers back then…”

I laughed a laugh that morphed into a sigh. Things were so different back then. We thought we had it all figured out too. Two talented bakers with stars in their eyes, and visions of a culinary empire that stretched across Equestria, and then all of Equus. A grand legacy to leave our foals.

All these years later, we were still madly in love of course. And despite a shaky start in a small town, we had pretty much made it. Maybe not worldwide, but we were profitable, and shipping goods to most of Equestria. But there was still one piece missing – foals.

Believe me, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. We both knew we wanted foals from the very beginning, so extra rounds in the bedroom… or wherever the mood struck us? You didn’t have to ask us twice. But as the years – and the fertility cycles – went by, the worry began to creep in.

There were books and guides. Lotions, potions, and everything in between. After a while I had just assumed that I was the problem, as it unfortunately so often is with these things. So needless to say, we were shocked when the hospital called us in and told us the results of the tests we had finally found the bits to pay for. Neither of us were sterile, but, poor Carrot… I’ll just say the parts that counted weren’t quite as potent as his hormones.

In a way, I almost wished one or both of us had actually been fully sterile. At least that would have saved us from another year of hope and heartache. We knew the odds were almost non-existent, but because they weren’t actually zero, we kept trying anyway. As I trotted past one of the Quarter’s ubiquitous gambling rooms, I couldn’t help but think that we had something in common with the players inside; losing time and again but rolling the dice again anyway because this time we might just get lucky.

The straw that broke the pony’s back came in the middle of an incredibly rushed quickie twenty minutes before the lunch rush was due to start, all because the thermometer said my core temp was just right for the next few minutes. My mind had become so disconnected from the moment that I completely forgot I was bent over a kitchen counter, smearing flour and cookie crumbs all over the place while my husband was rutting me with all the enthusiasm of a soggy souffle.

And as a final buck in the teeth, when we finally talked ourselves into dusting off the foster-adoptive application we had tucked away in a drawer years ago, we were kindly informed that we had ‘aged out’ of eligibility for consideration.

“And so here I am.”

I stopped across the street from my intended destination – a stately two-story home tucked away just two blocks removed from some of the Quarter’s most tourist-laden streets. Red brick construction, with a trio of windows on each level, each framed by light green shutters. An intricate rod iron balcony extended from the second level, providing great views of the street below, and precious additional shade to the matching porch on the ground floor. A large tree, branches thick with dangling moss, towered over the house from the back, giving the entire place a look that would have been equally at home among the well-preserved mansions that the streetcar passed by on the way here.

Only the small sign out planted in the front yard, “Rising Sun Fertility”, gave any indication that this wasn’t just a normal residential property.

I took a deep breath and willed my hooves forward across the street before I could second guess myself. As I opened the front door and heard the small bell above it chime, I could feel another piece of web closing in behind me.

“Welcome to Rising Sun, my dear. Please come in, come in!” I looked to the opposite end of the small welcome area, where a well-dressed unicorn mare stood behind a desk, waving me forward.

The old but well-polished wood floor creaked beneath me as I walked, and I tried not to cringe too much. “Um, hello,” I finally said as I came to a stop in front of her.

“Likewise. My name is Magnolia, but most everyone calls me Mags. Again, welcome in. Now,” she lit her horn and raised a small notebook in her magic. “Might I ask if you’re here on an appointment, or just dropping by?”

I was so lost in my own thoughts that I nearly missed her question entirely. “O-Oh! Um, yes. Er, I have an appointment. Under Chiffon?”

She flipped a few pages before setting the notebook down. “Ah! There we are, Chiffon Swirl. A lovely name, by the way.” She eyed me briefly. “Fitting too. Your mane is just divine, dearie! You simply must tell me how you get that style to hold.”

“Oh, this?” I chuckled. “Well, no magic with me, as you can see, so it’s mainly just a lot of pins and some manespray. It can be a hoof full some days though.” I shuffled to my right a bit, to get myself a bit more into the path of a small gem-powered fan sitting on a nearby table. “Not sure how it’s going to do in this humidity though.”

She laughed at that. A light, crystal laugh that somehow put me further at ease. “Lived my whole life here, y’know, so you get used to it. Now, why don’t you go rest your hooves in the parlor over there and I’ll be right back with some cold tea and just a bit of paperwork.”

She directed me to a well-appointed and cozy room to my right, and I found a seat on one of the many plush chairs while she excused herself, returning a few minutes later with a clipboard, a folder, and a tall glass of tea in her magic. Magnolia gently set the glass down on the coffee table in front of me before taking a seat opposite me. “You look a bit parched sweetie. Have some tea, then we’ll chat.”

I grabbed the glass and took a sip. A wonderfully cold blast of tea and sugar exploded on my tongue, and I couldn’t help but lean back and sigh. “Oh gosh, that’s just perfect.” I took another, longer sip, relishing the refreshing sweetness. For a brief moment, it felt like the oppressive summer heat melted away. “Ok…” I finally said, “how about a trade. I will tell you how to duplicate my mane style if you tell me how you get sweet tea to balance this well. I’ve tried adding it to my cafe’s menu so many times but I can never get it right!” I laughed.

We shared a laugh. “Sounds fair to me, honey,” she replied. “It’s my grandmare’s recipe, actually. Just something I learned growing up. But I’ll jot it down on a card for ya before you leave.”

“Now, let’s get the logistics out of the way, shall we?” I watched her slip into a more business-like demeanor like a pony changes clothes. “Do you have a sample jar for me?”

“Yes, sure do.” I pulled my saddlebag over from the other end of the couch and carefully retrieved the jar. Before placing it on the coffee table. “Got it this morning.”

Magnolia lifted the jar in her magic and examined it for a second. “Perfect! This should be more than enough.”

“Good to hear,” I chuckled. “Quantity has never been an issue for my husband, at least. I presume you received all the other information I sent?”

“Absolutely, as well as your deposit.” Magnolia brought a file folder into view and deftly laid out its contents on the table between us. It was indeed all there. A couple of photos of Carrot, a small bag containing a lock of his hair, and a card detailing his physical description. “The genetic sample is, of course, the last piece of the puzzle that we needed,” she added.

“R-Right.” Seeing his photo there, with his kind eyes and wide smile, almost tore at me. Magnolia seemed to sense my sudden discomfort and shifted over to sit by me.

“Y’all ok, dear?” Talk to me.”

“Last minute jitters, I guess.” I took a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to calm my nerves. “I’ve already had to lie to my husband more than once just to set all of this up, then make the trip down here. Part of me still can’t believe I’m doing this, but would you believe me if I said I was out of options?”

“You don’t need me to believe you, Chiffon,” she said. “You just need to believe it yourself.”

“I suppose that’s true, isn’t it?”

Magnolia patted me on the shoulder. “If it helps, I’ve had this same conversation many, many times before. With ponies and non-ponies alike, from all walks of life. Ours is a rather, shall we say, unique service, but like I tell every creature, the fact that you’re here at all tells me you’ve determined the end goal is worth the risk.”

“It is,” I replied. “As much as I want this, I know we want it just as bad, if not more. And if this all ends with us cradling a new family, I’ll bear whatever burden I have to.”

“And we’ll do our utmost to make that a reality for you, Chiffon. Now, there’s a bit of paperwork left to complete, but while you do that, tell me a bit about yourself if you want to. How’d you find us anyway?”

I spent the next few minutes doing just that, re-telling a somewhat sanitized version of my story between checking boxes and signing forms. If this Magnolia had heard similar stories a hundred times over, she didn’t show it. She seemed engaged with me as if she were talking to an old friend. Maybe it was just her natural charm, or maybe it was a well-practiced act as part of her job. But either way it put me a bit at ease, at least for a minute.

“As for your last question,” I continued as I re-stacked the completed forms and put them back on the clipboard, “I found out about this place thanks to Playcolt.”

“Oh?” Magnolia’s eyebrows raised at that. “Do tell.”

“Well,” I chuckled, “it’s not quite as juicy as you might imagine, but anyway… as you can probably imagine, this isn’t the first time my husband’s dick has been on the other end of a specimen container instead of my rump. Well, sometimes we’ve been so busy with our day jobs that I can’t always be there with him to, er, collect the samples. So he has to take care of it himself. And, well, like any stallion sometimes he needs a bit of motivation.”

“Ah, I see now,” Magnolia nodded.

“He was so embarrassed by it all too. Took a train all the way to Canterlot just to buy it there instead of the store local to us, just to avoid seeing anyone we knew. Anyway, he kept the magazine tucked away in the bathroom cupboard, and one time when I was reorganizing in there, I decided to flip through it when he wasn’t looking.”

Magnolia chuckled. “Scoping out the competition then?”

“Hehe,” I laughed in return. “They’re pretty, I have to give them that. Still, I don’t worry about him, believe me. So as I was flipping through, I saw your ad on one of the last pages. I sent in a request for a brochure, and well, here we are now.”

“I see, I see.” Magnolia lit her horn and floated the clipboard and the folder back in her direction. “Well, I’m glad you’re here, Chiffon. I think everything is in order on my end. Any last questions?”

I chewed on that question a bit before shaking my head. “No, I’m ok.”

Another little lie, another bit of the web laid into place.

“So, what happens now?”

“Now…” Magnolia stood up, lifting both the clipboard and the jar in her magic, “you get to relax while we get everything ready for you. You said you came in on the morning train from where again?”

“Po— er, let’s just say central Equestria.”

“Fair enough,” Magnolia glanced at a nearby clock. “Tell you what; Lagniappe’s is barely a five minute trot from here. Great food, nice vibe, not too many tourists either. The chef, Mirepoix, is an old friend of mine, so tell ‘em I sent you and he’ll make sure you’re taken care of. Give us about… let’s say an hour or so? We’ll be set for your treatment then, so just swing back in when you’re ready.”

Just then my stomach decided to growl a bit and my cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “Er, guess I am a bit hungry, hehe.”

Magnolia saw me out with a friendly hug and directions to this restaurant. It was indeed easy to find, and as a restaurant owner myself, I could tell right away that this was a place that only the locals knew about. It had that worn but well-loved feeling that you just don’t get in the kitschy tourist trap places. Being a bit past two in the afternoon, the restaurant was relatively quiet. But there were enough tables occupied to keep things lively, and I was quickly shown to a nice table near a window, with a view out to a lovely garden that filled the small courtyard separating the restaurant from the adjacent buildings.

Everything on the menu sounded delicious, but with the butterflies in my stomach still stirring here and there, I opted for a light meal – a cup of some absolutely delicious gumbo, and a fresh salad topped with some blackened fish. I did as Magnolia asked and mentioned to the waiter that she had sent me, and not a minute later did Mirepoix come out from the kitchen to greet me… and make sure I got my hooves on one or two of his restaurant’s signature cocktails. It was a twist on something called a sazerac. I wasn’t sure what all was in it, but it sure tasted good.

Even here, amongst these friendly ponies, I began to layer the lies. Why I was in Neigh Orleans to begin with, how I knew Magnolia, what hotel I was staying at. I made it all up on the fly, parsing every word to try and see if Mirepoix saw right through me or not. I hated having to lie to him like this, but I also knew that if I couldn’t get through something as simple as this, with a stranger no less, I’d have no hope for what lay ahead of me.

I left the restaurant a little over an hour later with my hunger curbed and my conscience dulled just enough by the two drinks. Magnolia greeted me upon my return, and showed me around the clinic’s treatment areas while final preparations were being completed. It turned out that this house was a residence for a long time, but went up for sale when the younger members of the family who had cared for it through the generations picked up stakes and moved west. The clinic bought it, seeking a larger, more comfortable space for their operations.

To say the place had been transformed was an understatement. Smaller bedrooms were combined to make larger ones, or partially merged with parlors and sitting rooms to create rooms that better suited modern style and furnishings. The rear most section of the house, specifically on the upper floors, had been converted into a mini-spa of sorts, complete with jetted tubs, large showers, a small sauna, and even a relaxation room. It reminded me a lot of the spa back home, just more compact. Yet despite all the modern touches, the wooden floors and period woodworks were retained, lending the whole place a wonderful balance of old and new.

Charming indeed, for a house where lies were literally born.

Magnolia ended her little tour at a rather large bedroom, one that could easily pass as a suite at one of the swanky hotels nearby. Warm colors and subdued lighting created a comforting atmosphere, set off by plush rugs and furniture, as well as a bed that was clearly big enough to accommodate creatures of nearly any size.

“So, here we are,” Magnolia said as she showed me inside. “We’ll begin shortly, but if there’s anything else you want or need, just let me know. Also,” she added, “just a quick reminder about a couple of things.”

“First, above all else, you’re in control here. You get to dictate the treatment plan, and you can change your mind at any point, even mid-treatment. Second, each treatment room is sound-proofed, so don’t worry about noise, if you catch my drift. And of course, feel free to make use of the spa area once you’re done. Take as much time as you need.”

“Thanks,” I replied. I sat back on the bed and sunk into its pillowy top layers. It was admittedly more comfortable than my own bed at home.

“Ready?”

“Yes,” I nodded.

“Good.” Magnolia stepped over and gave me a friendly hoof bump. “Get comfortable and relax. You’re in good hooves with Copper, I promise. He’s one of our best.”

With a final nod, Magnolia took her leave, and I was alone. About a minute later, a soft knock on the door startled me from my racing thoughts.

“Yes, you can come in.”

The door opened, and in stepped my husband.

No, that was a lie. It was Copper… whatever his last name was. I didn’t know for sure, since the clinic protects the names of their staff just as well as their clients. For all I knew, the pony in front of me wasn’t really named Copper. For all he knew, my name wasn’t Chiffon at all.

But despite his appearance, I knew the stallion before me wasn’t Carrot. He looked like him, from the square jaw to the long, lanky frame. He had a bit of scruff in his coat just like him, wore his mane just like him… and as he stepped towards me, I noticed that he even smiled just like him.

“Hello,” he said. “It’s good to see you, my dear.”

In truth, the only thing truly setting him apart from my husband was the small gem he wore around his neck. Brilliant green in color, it not only matched his eyes, but it was also the key to the illusion. The magic embedded within suppressed everything about the pony wearing it, and instead created a near copy of somepony else. This Copper… he could be an earth pony like me, or a unicorn, or a pegasus. But right then, he looked just like my husband. The brochure wasn’t kidding when it said the Masquerade option was the next best thing to a Changeling.

I stood from the bed and slowly approached him. The height difference between us was spot-on too; my muzzle came to just under his chin, just like it should. “Nice to see you too…”

“My love.”

And with that, the web took form. In my mind I crossed a kind of threshold. No going back now. For however long this lasted, I was with Carrot, and he was with me, and I was going to see this literal charade through. Like Magnolia said, I just had to believe it myself.

So I did. I chose to believe.

I chose to believe that the stallion I leaned into and kissed was my husband. I chose to believe it was him returning that kiss, and another, and another dozen after that. It was his hooves running through my loosened mane and gently caressing my withers. It was his tongue wrestling with mine as slowly, ever so slowly, we built up some momentum.

The more we kissed, the more we touched each other, the more convinced I let myself become. I began trailing kisses down his neck, toward the top of his chest. I stopped and stared into that necklace, momentarily losing myself in its subtle green glow. I planted a small kiss on it as I crossed the top of his chest; half for good luck, and half for absolution.

I broke the next kiss just long enough to sit back on the bed and beckon him closer. He laid next to me and took the initiative, kissing me all over. Hooves and tongues explored each other, and soon I found myself flipped around in the opposite direction, with my nethers in front of his face, and his cock in front of my own. I let my hooves trace little circles around the two small birthmarks on his belly, just like my husband. And just like him, this stallion quivered and twitched every time I slid my tongue across his medial ring.

For my part, his technique was a little different than my husband’s, a bit more methodical than fervent. But damn it all it felt so good I quickly ceased to care. The way his tongue explored my haunches, the way he teased my nipples, it took most of my concentration to keep returning the favor to his body at the same time.

He kept teasing me and pushing me closer to the edge, one lick, one kiss at a time, until finally an orgasm washed over me like a slow-rolling wave. I moaned and cooed as I rode out the waves of pleasure, all the while sucking on the head of his dick like it was candy. The heat between us was as thick as the air outside, and all I could smell was my scent and his delicious musk blended together. He had a slightly different scent than my husband but I chose to believe it was the same. Maybe by that point I was too horny to care. But I sat up all the same, flopped onto my stomach, and presented my swollen nethers to him.

“Take me,” I whispered. “Please.”

He wasted no time mounting me, and I immediately felt the bit of extra weight on my back compared to my husband. But like his tongue work, this stallion was slow and gentle, allowing me to set the pace. It took me a bit of adjusting to get the angle just right, but once I did I saw stars.

“Oh… my gosh… yesss….”

He sank into me perfectly, hitting all my most sensitive spots with every slow movement. I pushed my hips back once, twice, three times, turning my rump in a slow circle until I felt his medial ring slide past my inner lips. He pushed forward a bit at the same time, and grunted as I felt him slide fully inside of me. His forehooves planted on the bed to either side of me, keeping the pressure on my back to a minimum, and I took advantage of that extra freedom to work my nethers over his cock in every direction I could, drawing all sorts of pleasured groans out of the both of us.

By the time another orgasm overtook me, I was totally lost to the moment, to all the lies. I needed my husband to cum; I wanted him to cum, right there, right now. So without hesitation, I turned back to cast him a wanton gaze and said, “Rut me, Carrot. Hard and fast.”

And that’s exactly what Carrot did. All pretense abandoned, no subtleties to give. I let him push me down and mount me like any horny colt would a mare, and rut me silly. His dick plunged into me again and again, going from the tip back to the hilt in powerful, lustful thrusts. I yelped with pleasure each time he bottomed out inside me, I squeezed him with my walls as tightly as I could, reveling in his scent and his touch and the unbelievable way he was fucking me. Carrot was pleasuring me like never before and I was putty in his hooves.

“Yes, Carrot. Faster, faster, f-fast— oh yes!”

I felt his whole body tense around me and I knew he was close. “Cum for me, my love. Fill me up!”

I shoved my rump back into him as far as I could and moments later he exploded inside of me. I felt his hot cum rush inside, filling me up like never before. “Yes, yes! Don’t stop, Carrot. Give it all to me!”

He kept pumping into me, not stopping his thrusts until we had both gone limp, entirely spent. Slowly he slipped out of me and dropped onto the bed beside me. I grabbed him and kissed him deeply, and kept kissing him until the need for air became too much to ignore.

“Are… are you ok?” He finally asked.

I took deep, slow breaths to try and calm my racing heart. “Y-yeah. I’m ok. I love you, Carrot.”

For a split-second, I saw a mote of surprise in his eyes, like somehow it was I who had pierced the illusion. But it was gone just as fast, and he simply smiled at me. “I love you too, Chiffon.”

After checking on me one more time, he quietly slipped out of the room to allow me time to recover. I laid there on the bed, breathing in the heady mixture of lust and bodily fluids that filled the room. Finally, biological needs forced me up, and I took Magnolia up on the offer of the spa area. I quickly showered, then took a brief turn in the hot tub before showering again, taking extra care to scrub away any traces of my debauchery.

Refreshed and rehydrated, I returned to the bedroom to retrieve my saddlebags, where next to them I found a small bottle and a notecard. The bottle looked similar to a fancy perfume you’d see for sale at a store, in this case filled with a light blue liquid. I set it down and picked up the note.

As promised, here is the Couple’s Elixir you ordered. The specimen you provided is part of the mixture, and should be taken by your spouse immediately before sexual activity. He’ll be ready to go in no time, trust me. Though the container is protected for travel, remember to use it within 48 hours for maximum effectiveness. I wish you a safe trip home, wherever that may be, and I hope this experience leads to the outcome you both desire.

-Magnolia

After securing my things, I returned to the lobby, where Magnolia greeted me warmly once again. We made small talk while I wanted for the taxi she had called for me to arrive. She bid me farewell with a big, warm hug, and the recipe card she had promised. The trip to the train station went by quickly, and soon enough I was on the last train of the night, bound for home - and the consequences of my decisions.

As far as my husband knew, that elixir was the golden ticket we had been searching for. He eagerly drank it up the moment I got home, and we proceeded to rut like teenagers on prom night. He wanted me to be on top that time, and normally I’d be happy to. But that time I had to say no. I needed him to get behind me and rut my brains out the old-fashioned way. Why? Because, I told him, the elixir needs every chance it can get to work its magic. And him on top, driving his cock into me like nature intended, was the best way to do that.

That too… was a lie.

The elixir was just an amped up aphrodisiac, and after what I had done just hours before, I couldn’t look my husband in the eye that night. Maybe tomorrow, or the next day, but not that night.

So there you have it, Red Shoes. Lies stacked upon lies, topped with deception and infidelity on a scale I could never have imagined was possible for anypony to reach, much less myself. But was it worth it? The two smiling foals sitting in the next room while I write this are proof enough, I think. The fact that two earth ponies managed to have one pegasus and one unicorn for foals was chalked up to the vagaries of the elixir, or any of the other parade of magical treatments and procedures we had subjected ourselves to. We were just happy to have healthy foals in our hooves.

Remember what I said earlier, about the lies becoming easier to tell after a while? I can assure you, they become very easy to tell. So easy, in fact, that you eventually forget you’re lying at all. The reality you’ve concocted becomes your truth. The hard part comes in living with the ever-increasing risk of being found out, and the dire consequences that await you if that happens.

But I will learn to live with it.

Because I can live with it.