I had been running this resort for burnt-out Ponies at the edge of Ponyville in a small cottage I rent. I had enjoyed the discreet, laid-back business, even if Fluttershy and Rarity have helped me out greatly, which I was making certain they knew just how much I appreciate it.

I had had additional insulation installed in each room, just to make sure it was as peaceful and quiet as I could possibly make it, then hiding it behind beautiful wooden panels, the likes I knew both the customers and Rarity could approve of. Adding the wooden panels hides the level of effort I had put into the quiet atmosphere I had built up, they just see the decor in the room since the various wooden panels adds just enough acoustics to feel comfortable.

I had chosen several different types of wood, like beech, oak, cherry and a few others. Then I had chosen to pick doors out of the same wood and named the rooms after the wood. The plaque on each door depicted the theme and mood the respective room was made into.

Each and every room was carefully built up and examined, before I had opened my little business. If this panned out, I could buy the cottage and build another, just a few yards from the first. Yet, that is still in the future.

I had bounced to the cottage as usual, just to see how every Pony was doing and see how the business was doing, carefully examining a few rooms each week. This time I went up to the attic, looking it over in order to see what I could find, expecting dust, but nothing of substantial value or interest.

What I initially found is the small closet-sized rooms in a shabby style. Since the door to the attic is locked and the rooms isolated, none was to be the wiser of what is up here, even if it had been a war between Bats and Mice, which wasn’t the case, thankfully. Nothing that wouldn’t be saved by a firm coat of merry paint, and a solid dusting.

Behind the first door, I found a heavy supply of dusty cans, looking as if they had been the paint the attic would be needing, but once I read the labels, I realize that was not the case. Words like Gel and Rubber plastered all over the lot, whatever I could possibly use them for. I merely left them where they lay, allowing them to stay where they were in case I needed them, once I had made a full inventory and examination.

As I open the next door, I found the shelves lined with bottles of lube and other clear gels or liquids. Giving me the impression this had been a storage for a sex shop or a SPA, most likely. Guess the later could be integrated into my business’ serves, even if the former would have to be kept strictly out of public view. I would just have to verify and explore what these containers actually did store and if they were still viable for use on Ponies.

With an idea in my head, I tuned down to see if I had some spare room for what I had in mind. I couldn’t use the attic for what I had in mind, and I couldn’t use the rooms at ground level, which left me with very few options at this point.

As I descended down the flight of stairs into the basement, I realized just how inconvenient the creaky old, poorly maintained stairs were. Not only are they noisy, but irregularly and loud noises like this is exactly what my customers at the ground level could not have.

Thankfully, there is a firm oak door on each side of the flight of stairs. Not only would it keep most Ponies away, just by the firm looks, but there is the one other detail about this door. The one convenient detail about it in my case.

As I stand at the mouth of the door, I poke a whole in the fabric, leading down to the basement directly, in a manner not too dissimilar to the feeling one would have, going through the mirror to Canterlot High.

Once I got down; I realized, just how similar the effect was as I found myself standing on my hind hooves, not feet as Twilight Sparkle did, at the Canterlot High.

Of course, the only problem is that once I am back at the ground level and out of my basement, I am back as the Pony, I can’t carry anything the way I do now. These effects will be confusing. Thankfully, I could make due good enough, just carrying anything and everything I need in my mane, picking things up with my tail. I know my Human counterpart managed to do it, so I should be doing fine.

As I was looking around, I counted the small rooms, just to see how much space I had available to me down here. These are rooms, not just closes with actual doors to them. No furniture at the moment, but what prevented me from carrying it into these rooms by myself?

As I reached the end of the hall, I found a door leading to a flight of stairs on both the right and the left. They both reached up to the ground level on the back of my cottage. Maybe I could make some fun out of it. Just a matter of what is on the other side and who knew of these doors. Logically, it had to be me, but what did I have on the other side?

I walked up to the door to the right and poked the door, before I walk through, only to find myself in an identical cottage, the one difference is that everything had been decorating in the Human style. There is a Human tending her friends who live in what was bound to be referred to Humanville, by the common standards.

As I turned back, I faced the left door and poked it in the same manner as I had the right. Once through, I had found myself in yet another realm of yet other creatures, who and whatever they were.

The third door leads up to the back of my cottage, just where I recall it had to be, this is where my new guests and customers would be entering. Never knowing where they were going, unless I explained it to them. I had no windows in the basement, thus there is no way to know where you are.

Naturally, the floor in the basement was cut right out of the bed rock on which the cottage had been built, how convenient. It is a very sound and firm foundation for the building. Some Unicorn had used her magic in order to move the rock out, then smoothing the walls.

Once I had poked up the portal from the door on ground level and down to the door in the basement, there is no further need to do anything with the flight of stairs and the wooden planks they had originally built the stairs out of. Just as good. The only thing I had to do, it to ascertain no Pony, Human or otherwise found the gate or entered my basement without my explicit permission now.

My basement would require some redecoration, and for the purpose, so would I.

Author's Note

Pinkie Pie's POV