The Breakup
Admiral Biscuit
Monica was sitting at her computer, wasting an evening on Facebook since her stupid boyfriend had to work a double shift, when she heard the front door open. She pulled her headphones off and listened until she heard the clatter of hooves on the linoleum floor in the kitchen, then put them back on again and went back to the five simultaneous Facebook Messenger conversations she was trying to have.
She muttered in annoyance as the cat jumped off her lap and headed out of her room.
A few minutes later, she heard the shower starting, and groaned inwardly. Summer Breeze was pretty neat—better than some of her previous roomies—but she always left hair in the shower, no matter how many times Monica told her to clean it out after she was done.
Monica finally got tired of Facebook and took her headphones back off, pausing iTunes but leaving the laptop running. She pulled the headphone cord out of the jack, in case someone messaged her while she was out of her room, slipped her iPhone in her pocket, and headed for the living room, where she could faintly hear the laugh track of a sitcom.
Summer Breeze was sitting on the couch, with a towel under her stomach and another wrapped around her head. Monica gave her roommate a brief nod, before grabbing a beer out of the fridge. She twisted the top off and flicked it into a fishbowl on the counter, then sat down next to the pony.
"Cheers? Really?" Monica gave a look of disgust at the TV.
"I didn't feel like changing the channel." Summer Breeze hoisted a bottle of wine and took a drink.
"Long day, huh?" Monica reached for the pony's back, resting her hand gently on Summer Breeze, but jerked it away as the mare twitched. "Sorry—you usually don't mind me putting my hand on your back."
"I . . . got some bruises there," Summer told her.
"How can you tell?"
"Because it hurts?"
"I meant with the fur . . . I'll shut up now." Monica looked back at the TV, only turning back to face her roommate once a commercial came on. Her eyes were better adjusted to the dim light in the room now, and she noticed some fresh cuts and scrapes on Summer's barrel.
"What happened, Breezie?"
"Oh." Summer's ears drooped. "It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" She reached over and muted the TV, before turning back to Summer. "You know Tommy and I are a thing, sort of, right?"
"Yeah . . . he stays over a couple of times a week." Monica's eyes grew wide. "He didn't—girl, we've got to call the cops on him or something."
"It wasn't him." She took a long pull from the wine bottle.
"Talk."
Summer Breeze sighed, took another drink of her wine, and then shifted around on the couch into a sitting position. The slight wince as her butt hit the cushion didn't go unnoticed by Monica, but she didn't say anything.
“Tommy's really nice,” Summer began. “He talks to me on the computer all the time, and he takes me places in his car. But . . . he's just not that good in bed.”
“You mean, like, technique?”
Summer held up a hoof and waved it in a so-so motion. “He's okay at oral. It wasn't that great when we started, but . . . well, I kind of expected difficulty. And, I don't mind reciprocating. He's always hard in the morning, and he likes it when I give him a quick blow job before he has to leave for work.” She lowered her ears. “He's kind of . . . touchy in the morning. I mean, he likes to run his hands over my coat, and snuggle up against me, and his dick's rubbing on my back. It's a nice treat in the morning, for him, and I don't mind.
“He tries to return the favor. I'm usually not in the mood when he leaves, 'cause he's got to drive home at six so he can get to work, and I don't get a lot of sleep when he's over. Anyway, for a while we were just fooling around, you know?” Her ears perked back up, and she looked intently at Monica. “But I really wanted to go all the way with him, and I finally convinced him that it was okay. He was sort of weird about it, and of course the first couple of times were really awkward as we tried to figure out what positions worked best. I kind of liked being on top, it just felt so kinky. And he could rub his hands down my belly, or through my mane. . . .”
She sighed and flattened her ears again. “But it just wasn’t satisfying. I'd fake it, because it made him happy, and then after he'd fallen asleep, I'd take care of myself.”
“Maybe you just haven't found the right position,” Monica suggested. “You can go on the internet; there are guides that have hundreds of different positions.” Her face flushed slightly; she'd spent a memorable Valentine's Day with her then-boyfriend experimenting with a few of them.
“It's not so much the position,” Summer Breeze said morosely. “It's the size.” She shuffled her hoof across the cushion. “I—it doesn't seem right to tell him that, though. He's a stallion—a boy—and they're proud of their penises. But he's not even a foot long. I thought maybe anal would be more satisfying, and it's better, but it's just not really enough.”
“Wait a minute.” Monica looked Summer skeptically. “I . . . a foot? Like, are you talking when it's hard, or all the time?”
“Just when it's hard. It's not as long when it's soft, but it hangs out more than a stallions does.”
“So just how big is a stallion?”
Summer shrugged. “About twenty inches. Thicker, too—about as big around as your beer bottle.”
Monica whistled. “No wonder Tommy can't get you off.”
“Is that normal for humans? Is Tommy smaller than average?”
“I'd have to look—I don't carry around a measuring tape.”
“I could ask him to show you his penis next time he's over.”
“That's a bad idea.” Monica shook her head. “Look, there aren't any humans with twenty-inch dongs, except maybe some porn stars.”
Summer nodded. “I kinda thought that. I did some interneting, and I couldn't find any pictures that looked like they were the right size.”
“So . . . what now?”
“I . . . kinda cheated on Tommy,” Summer admitted. “I don't know if I should tell him.”
Monica gave the mare a hug. “Was it a one-night thing?”
“So far—but it doesn't have to be. He'll be happy to see me again.” Summer hit the couch with a forehoof. “Argh. I just don't know what to do. Tommy's nice, and he's smart, and friendly, and you like him . . . you do like him, right?”
"Yeah, he's cool."
“But I just can't stand the idea of being with him all the time and never being satisfied.”
“I want to make sure I've got this straight, because you haven't gone out and said it yet. You had sex with this new guy tonight, right?”
Summer nodded.
“And he's the one who did . . . this?” Monica motioned to the cuts and scrapes on Summer's barrel.
She nodded again. “He was a little rough, but that's okay. I like it a little rough.” She sighed and got up off of the couch. “I guess I'd better tell Tommy. It's not nice to keep secrets like this. I'm sure he'll understand why it's better this way. Then I'm gonna go to bed. I'm exhausted.”
Monica covered a yawn. “Me too.”
*****
Monica slept in later than she'd intended; the computer had been filled with new messages when she went back to her room, and she wound up talking late into the night with a former classmate who was on foreign exchange in Japan.
When she finally shambled into the kitchen, Summer was already up, sitting at the kitchen table absently stirring her oatmeal with a spoon. Monica didn't need a crystal ball to guess how the conversation the night before had gone. She stood across from Summer, waiting to be noticed.
“Tommy broke up with me,” Summer finally said. “He . . . he was kind of understanding at first. I told him that it was an impulse, and he said he could forgive that.” She pushed around her oatmeal some more. “And . . . your internet messages are dumb, you know, because you can't see the other person's face. You can't read their body language. I thought he'd be happier if I explained my reasons—you thought they were logical, right?”
Monica kept her face carefully neutral. Summer was a good friend, yes, but she wasn't about to blithely walk into a breakup minefield. “Different people have different expectations when it comes to relationships,” she said. “Usually, on Earth, couples are expected to be monogamous.”
“But I—well, it's not important.” She squared her shoulders. “I can't take back what we said. It was just kind of mean to unfriend me on Facebook when I told him about Trigger.”
“Trigger?” Too late, Monica realized that her caution had been for naught. “Is—“
“I met him on a farm just outside of town. I hadn't really been thinking about it, but I was walking by yesterday and he was unsheathed, and I thought about what my love life was missing, so I went back last night, and . . . Monica?” Summer Breeze looked around the empty kitchen. "Hmf. Humans are weird."
Author's Note
A One-Shot-Ober fic
