Trixieverse 9/Foreign Affairsby ApplejinxChaptersTies That BindSailingCustomsYour AssistanceHigh SeasRough RiderDeeperTwo By TwoChiaroscuroVsGreen BalloonsMare's Gotta DoHardcoreShelterTurn The PageOver The MountainKeystoneEpiloguePlanting FlagsStay On TargetTies That BindOctavia shuddered, baring her teeth in sensual bliss. She also quivered. And trembled, and wiggled… because Octavia was a generous mare, and wished her pleasure to be shared. Under her lay her heroic stallion, Stout Heart: Royal Guard, trusted security horse to Princess Celestia, and her inspiration… well, part of him. Octavia was a noted celebrity, a gifted cellist whose life had been transformed when she began composing music, bold and emotive music, dedicated to the glory of her lover’s penis. She’d built a burgeoning career upon this girthy foundation, and rejoiced in continual return to the source of her new themes. And she shuddered again, ostentatiously, and then the breath hissed through her teeth as he swelled within her so fiercely as to almost make her vagina creak with the strain. She’d meant that, on two levels. Firstly, Octavia was a generous mare in more ways than one. She was riding Stout Heart in reverse cowpony position, and he was staring with hungry eyes at her soft, plump rump. Every exaggerated shudder sent ripples of flesh through her quivering buttocks, and she knew her Stout Heart loved nothing more than her curvaceous plumpness, and she was doing it on purpose to excite and please him as much as she possibly could. The other part was this: Octavia was about to leave him, so she’d pulled out all the stops and meant to leave him with an experience he’d not soon forget. He surged anew, as she knew he would, and her breath caught in her throat as the mighty cock swelled… and Octavia let out a little pony shriek, for Stout Heart knew his mare. She could clamp down on him in a fervent coital embrace, but not if he resorted to jouncing, and this he did. And as Stout Heart jounced his burly guardpony hips upon the bed, his unthinkable bulk slurped deeper into Octavia in a lively rhythm… a rhythm that her sly composer’s mind took particular note of, with attention to tempo, touches of sforzando as the tender pounding shook her insides, accelerando… Octavia squealed, her eyes rolling back in her head and composition (mostly) forgotten, and exploded into a building crescendo of orgasm, her body spasming enthusiastically until she nearly toppled over. As she did, Stout Heart’s eyes widened to take in the radiant sight: not merely the joy of his beloved coming her tail off, atop him. Better than that. His trusty jouncing had sent her so mad with release that she’d lost all control of her voluptuous body. A scrawnier mare might have thrashed, or bitten. Octavia’s outburst was far more glorious than that. She rattled and shook incoherently like a cart racing over bad country roads, and since he was gazing upward at her lushly padded hindquarters, his view wasn’t of shuddering hocks or hooves clattering against the ground. Stout Heart saw only his beloved’s ‘fat mommy hips’, as he fondly considered them, and Octavia’s ass was far too soft to rattle. Instead, as her tail thrashed silky waves of dark horsehair across his face, Octavia’s butt burst into exaggerated quivers like horny Jello, and even as he felt her enthusiastic clenchings, he watched her whole body ripple in waves like a stormy sea… Stout Heart went off like a mighty cannon, unable to control himself or delay it for the slightest moment, his balls clenching and blasting his mare with a single huge burst of horsecome. Octavia’s squeal instantly went up two octaves, and her tail cracked like a very soft and bulky whip, and were she a scrawnier mare, she might have been blasted off him or simply flung herself clear in her own hysteria. But, of course, neither of them wanted that, and she was not in the least a scrawnier mare. So, Octavia hovered for a moment, soaking up the impact of Stout Heart’s explosive release and churning like a water balloon tied to a jackhammer… and then fell helplessly back against her lover, impaling herself deeply with a cry of lewd satisfaction. Stout Heart scooted his butt back a few inches, just to make sure she was comfortable, though he was already beginning to subside. Octavia panted, her eyes still unable to focus. Stout Heart couldn’t hug her, for her head was down by his rear hooves. He consoled himself by caressing and petting her soft, ample posterior. Octavia smiled groggily to herself. She knew her stallion well. They would kiss goodbye in public, face to face, and not shock Ponyville’s admittedly lax standards. Privately, their attentions could be more specialized. Just as she bid farewell to his glorious cock, she owed it to him to let him bid goodbye, in his own way, to her fat, voluptuous ass. Stout Heart fondled his lover in her post-coital stunned-senseless state for as long as he dared: there’d been times when he’d offended Octavia by such attentions, especially if he got lost in the experience and took hours. Then, his ears perked forward attentively, he directed his gaze to her lovely face, still turned away. “Honey?” he ventured. Her head turned, and he saw tears. “Octavia!” Octavia’s look was tragic. “Oh, I can’t bear it!” He gave her a worried smile. Being the husband of a great artist sometimes called for careful handling. “Bear what, my love? What’s the matter?” “How can I roam so far from you? My heart cries out!” She pulled free of his softened phallus, and turned to face him. “We’d better call the whole thing off.” “But… the tour!” protested Stout Heart. “Haven’t they booked dates?” Octavia blinked. “They? Just a moment, what do you mean they? Who is they?” “You, of course,” said Stout Heart, “and DJ Pon-3 and I suppose your roadie and… um…” As he pondered, Octavia frowned at him. “I’m no booking agent, dearest. Scratchie promises we’ll be fine. She’s from Neighpon, you know. She’s always so eager to find booking agents, but in this case she swears we won’t need them. We shall be iterant performers, traveling the countryside with our roadie and our instruments. There are no dates, and no booking. It’s not that.” “What, then?” Octavia heaved a great sigh. “I just can’t bear to leave you… even for the most glorious tour I’ve ever embarked upon. And I know you will be heartbroken without me!” She sighed again, even more ostentatiously. “There’s nothing for it, I must stay home.” Stout Heart was a simple pony, but not simple-minded. The hint of a smile played about his lips as he studied his romantic, creative, impassioned, complicated beloved. His eyes narrowed, indulgently. “Bullshit.” Octavia’s sensuous eyes widened in outrage. “I beg your pardon?! Ah… why do you say that, my most precious love?” She favored him with an equally outrageous pout. Stout Heart smiled more openly. “You’ll love it. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve been walking on air for weeks. You’ll go, and you’ll love it, and you’ll have a wonderful time and make legions of new fans.” Octavia pouted harder, scrunching her nose. “You can’t wait,” teased Stout Heart. “Go on. You’ll be a huge success.” His wry look softened. “I’ll be so very proud of you. Go. Go and show them what beautiful music is.” She stared at him, undone by his sincerity, and deeply disconcerted by his attitude. “But… our timeless romance? How can I…” “Didn’t you tell me that art and desire are bound together, but remain separately alive?” Octavia boggled. “Stout Heart, darling! I was talking to a critic!” “Doesn’t matter,” said Stout Heart resolutely. “It’s one of the wisest things I ever heard. And it explained a lot, Octavia. I love you. Go to Neighpon on your tour, and give some love to your art. I’ll wait.” She gulped. “But how will I bear the separation from you?” He winked. “Wait until you get back before you compose anything. We can’t have anypony else’s dick inspiring you too much, right?” Octavia glowered at him. “It’s NOT just that!” Her lip quivered, and a tear came to her eye. “Do you not think I notice your kindness, your strength, the gentleness within you? Your wisdom, even now? Sex is most of my art but life is all of these things and more. I’ll miss you, Stout Heart. I really will.” “Awwww,” said her lover. “But I still want you to go and have a wonderful time.” “I’ll miss you,” said Octavia earnestly. “Will you miss Ponyville?” Octavia blinked. “Oh, Stout Heart. You know I’ve toured before. Half my heart’s in Canterlot, I know it as well as home. I am not some farm pony, to be lost immediately to homesickness. No. It’s you I’ll miss. Look, look, do you see my room?” “It’s so empty. Without your cello, I mean.” Octavia pouted. “The point is, my home is within my music, not house furnishings! It’s been ever thus! My cello is over at Sweet Apple Acres. Big Macintosh asked to have it early, so that he could practice fitting it carefully on the cart.” From the other room, a brazen little voice called out. “You’re nuts!” Octavia’s eyes widened, and she drew a deep breath. “Scratchie! You hurt his feelings when you refused to let him have your decks.” Vinyl Scratch, much celebrated as DJ Pon-3, and trying to get some sleep before they embarked upon their big tour, made a face from under the pillow she was using to suppress the noises of her housemate and housemate’s mate. “I gave him all the heavy speakers! And I showed him how big a space the decks will need. You can’t ask them to be away from me the night before we travel! And you’re gonna owe an apology to your…” “Shush!” decreed Octavia, knowing Scratchie’s quirks and her strangely protective relationship with her turntables. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow. And I know my cello will understand. We will travel Neighpon together, so she is letting me focus on my pony love for my last night in Ponyville, and rightly so.” DJ Pon-3 snorted. “You should be with your instrument on a big night like this, not… whoring it out to our roadie!” Stout Heart inhaled, ready to scold the recalcitrant Scratch, but then he found Octavia’s hoof tenderly touching his lips, and he remained silent. “You’re nervous,” said Octavia into the darkness of Scratch’s room. A pause, as Octavia and Stout Heart held their breaths. “Yeah,” admitted Vinyl, a quaver in her voice. “I trust you,” said Octavia. “Try to trust yourself enough to sleep, okay, honey?” A smaller pause, more easily traversed. “Okay,” said Vinyl, reluctantly. She made no further request or demand, but Octavia and Stout Heart looked at each other, and Octavia added, “We’ll be quieter. We’re done.” Octavia’s lip quivered in woe at the thought, and was kissed into quiescence. She and Stout Heart snuggled close, and Vinyl Scratch resumed her attempts to sleep. “Can’t you hold that more steady, Oakback?” demanded Applejack. “Ain’t th’ steadiness,” said Big Macintosh. “That’s one of th’ big-size wagon wheels you got there.” “Dang it! You’re right,” said Applejack. “Okay, let ‘er down, Oakback!” The half-built wagon tipped, settling onto its unshod axle. Two pairs of Apple eyes widened. Big Macintosh flung himself onto the dirt, forelegs outstretched, and caught the toppling cello. Applejack took off her hat, and wiped her brow with the back of a hoof. “Ah meant onto the dang hay-bale, Oakback, you blinkin’ idiot. All right! I think we’ve had enough pony carpentry for th’ moment. Nice save, Big Macintosh!” “Apple Bloom kin put them wheels on,” suggested Oakback. “She’s gosh dern clever with a hammer.” “Reckon you’re right,” admitted Applejack. “We’ll pick this up in th’ morning. You okay, Big Macintosh?” Big Macintosh continued to hold the cello, his eyes wide, his fetlocks trembling. “Eyup.” “I think we got your harness all fitted up,” said Applejack. “O’ course, stands to reason, don’t it? Harness is the same, cart’s all different, but it’ll be fine in the morning, ain’t that right?” Big Macintosh rested the cello tenderly on a haybale, without a word. He stepped away, glanced at what remained of the old cart, and winced. “Aw!” said Applejack. “Don’t you worry about that! First of all, what good would our Apple cart be without our Big Macintosh ta pull it, I ask you? An’ secondly, we are honored to help our Ponyville musical-ponies go on their journey. Don’t you worry, y’all be home before you know it, and you’re giving a beautiful country a taste of some beautiful music while you’re at it.” She smiled, but Big Macintosh wasn’t smiling. Applejack cast about for further reassurances. “Are you worried about that Vinyl Scratch not letting us pack her record players? Aw, sugarcube, don’t you know that mare’s kinda funny about those? Prob’ly about the most easy-going unicorn crazy I ever did see, but for all that you won’t shake her on it: she weren’t NEVER gonna let them things out of her sight and you’re a fool to take it personal.” Big Macintosh looked even more woeful. Applejack tried harder. “I’m telling you, Vinyl Scratch don’t dislike nor mistrust you, not a bit of it, it’s jes’ her little ways. And Ah got a sense of how big them record players were and we’ve got it sorted, they will fit jes’ fine and we made a place for them already. Your lil’ tour won’t git marred by angry unicorns, so put your mind at ease. …okay?” Big Macintosh tried to smile, but a sister knew. Applejack gulped. “What’s hurtin’ ya, Big Macintosh?” she said. “Is it Braeburn? Ah shouldn’t tell you, he asked me not to tell, but ah happen to know that ol’ cowpony rascal, he’s waitin’ for you in bed. That’s why you ain’t seen him, honey, he wanted to give you a surprise. Don’t you fret, all right? We’re done here for now. You go on. He’s a-waitin’ for you, I promise.” Big Macintosh’s ears laid back in distress. His lip quivered. “Aw!” said Applejack, trotted up, and gave him a little kiss. “Ah called it! Din’t I call it? Go on. Braeburn wants to give you a lil’ send-off, and he’ll be waiting for you, and th’ tour will be done before you know it, and you’ll come home to your special pony jes’ as if you never left. Okay?” Mac’s lip quivered worse, and then he was bawling as Applejack hugged him, confident in her diagnosis, soothing him earnestly. “Pore ole Big Macintosh! Ah know it’s hard to leave home, but it’s only for a while, an’ it’s a proper good cause! Should’a seen this coming, indeed I should, you ain’t never been farther than Fillydelphia! Or Canterlot, I guess. Trust me, folks is the same all over. Jes’ remember, we love you, an’ hold that in your heart! Everything’s gonna be okay.” With that, she half-led, half-wrestled him out the big doors, around the side of the barn, and into the room that Big Macintosh used as a bedroom. Inside, Braeburn the fabulous cowpony lay across his bed, a rose held in his teeth… but he spat it out with a flailing of limbs and leapt to his feet in dismay at what he saw. “Princess!” he cried. “It’s all right, Braeburn!” called Applejack. “Ah reckon it’s your magic we’re needin’ tonight.” “What happened?” “Big Macintosh misses us already, an’ he ain’t even left yet, much less come back!” Braeburn took in the situation at a glance. “Applejack? Ah got this. Thankee kindly…” “Ah kin stay an…” “You kin leave,” said Braeburn firmly. Applejack gasped. She glanced between Big Macintosh and Braeburn. Her jaw tightened. “Hmph! Jes’ so’s you know, Mister Braeburn, there’s more to life than randy fuckin’.” A new voice squeaked out from behind Applejack as she stood in the doorway. “Since when?” Applejack didn’t budge. “Dashie, you settle. This ain’t nothin’ to do with you.” The cerulean pegasus peeked over her, nuzzling Applejack cheek to cheek. “If there’s randy fucking that isn’t, I totally demand an explanation… oh hi Big Macintosh, Braeburn… hey, what’s up with Big Macintosh?” “He’s goin’ on that big tour,” explained Applejack, “an’ he’s fretful.” Rainbow Dash gawked. “Seriously? It’s not that far. I could fly there in a couple days if I really went for it… well, weeks, I guess. Nah, not more than a week.” “Some of us got to go on hoof,” chided Applejack. “Or on a boat, which I got to say I’m kinda looking forward to. I bet you I’ll get my sea hooves right quickly! But the difference is, I’mma turn around and go right home again, and Big Macintosh has a tour to do first.” “But that’ll be awesome!” argued Dash. “He’s helping the arts, with cellos and dance music. And he gets to see Neighpon, remember when the Kirin came to visit us? It must be an awesome country, so pretty, plus Twilight says they’re a kinky bunch and she showed me some pictures. I didn’t even know you could do that with a unicorn! Now I want to go.” “Rainbow Dash! Back to the randy fuckin’ as usual. For your information, Big Macintosh is servin’ as a roadie, not some fancy foreign stud-pony, plus you know it’s more complicated than that. Ain’t you seen that Octavia around town, spendin’ all her time with Stout Heart the guard-pony? She’s goin’ on tour right enough, but she’s in love an’ I’m here to tell ya, and you should remember cos’ you’re part of the family, it ain’t so different between Big Macintosh and our Braeburn.” Applejack gestured with a hoof. “This seemin’ly wanton and wild-ass cowpony…” “Wants some gosh dern privacy!” interrupted Braeburn, with an outlaw look in his eyes. Applejack’s jaw dropped. She glanced, startled, at Braeburn, and was met with a hoof-stomp. Big Macintosh wouldn’t meet her eye. “Uhhh…” Rainbow Dash burst out into her squeaky little laugh. “For once I’m not the rude one! Come on, Boss. You’ve got tomorrow to say goodbye.” “Ah guess,” conceded Applejack, scraping the dirt with a forehoof. “Seriously, come on, give them some space,” insisted Dash. “I get that you want to say goodbye to Big Macintosh, but it’s even more crazy because you’re going on the boat with him!” “I like boats, dang it!” “You earth ponies are so into your family ties that it’s like you never go anywhere or see anything,” said Dash. “He’s BEEN to Fillydelphia,” argued Applejack. She glanced to Big Macintosh for support, and he still wouldn’t meet her eye, and Braeburn lifted a hoof for more stamping. “Fine!” she said. “Good night, all. Enjoy yer randy fuckin’ an’ don’t stay up too late.” Then, Applejack reared and squealed, for Rainbow Dash had her by the ear. “Yeee! Dashie, the hell?” Rainbow released her. “Got your attention?” “Jes’ a bit!” “Good,” retorted Dash. “It takes a lot to distract you from their randy fucking.” Applejack snorted. “They ain’t started! And I wouldn’t hang around watchin’ if they did, ma’am.” “But you’ll hang around stopping them from starting,” teased Dash. “What kinda talk is that?” “Shh,” said Dash, her wings lifting. “Come away from there. I know how to distract you from randy fucking.” Applejack began to sidle back out of the door, her ears curious. “That so? How you figure?” “Oh, I think so,” purred Dash. She leaned in, and whispered, “All I have to do is give you some randy fucking of your own!” Applejack canted her hips coyly, and swished her tail. “My own?” “Our own,” corrected Dash. She went to nip at Applejack’s ear again, and drag her away, but her country marefriend frisked aside and pranced back out the door, calling out, “Ah’d like ta see you try!” Then, there was just the sounds of flapping pegasus wings and galloping hooves toward the farmhouse. Braeburn glanced at Big Macintosh. Then… the sounds of wings returned, and a blue wing could be seen gently but firmly closing the door, and off Rainbow went in pursuit of her special somepony. Big Macintosh gulped. Braeburn went over to him. “Never you mind, Princess. They love ya too. Let me soothe your mind.” And indeed it was a special thing, thought Braeburn. Big Macintosh, his ‘Princess’, stood shyly. He—or sometimes ‘she’, it depended—was so precious, somehow fragile. Others didn’t have that Big Macintosh, though Princess had got better about letting them know him. Granny had been a tough case, initially hostile, though as she learned better she permitted Princess to exist, and took pride in giving things like gifts. Princess was shy, but hopelessly romantic. Princess made love like he was, perhaps, not allowed to. Princess was passive, receptive, but needed to be enclosed in a special and protective world just large enough for one massive, bashful farm horse and his outlaw cowpony lover. Their love was as big as all the prairie, and as secluded. It didn’t fit in towns and societies and… families. And then, impossibly, Rainbow Dash had come to bring the two gay lovers home again. Princess was loved by more than just Braeburn. Loved so much, that they’d accept Braeburn just as he was, roguish fellow, to get their Big Macintosh back. And that was how it had gone, and the outlaw cowpony had taken up residence in Ponyville, in a little house that faced the sunrise. The door didn’t open in the direction of town. Braeburn’s house turned its back on Ponyville, and opened to the wild prairie and Appleloosa beyond. But it was always open to Princess. And, in Big Macintosh’s bedroom, Braeburn without a word sought out Princess, with touch and petting and quiet, tender sounds. And, eventually, more… and as always, Princess didn’t cry out or carry on, even as Braeburn tenderly, firmly slid up her quivering tail-hole and held her close while the thunder steadily built to a crescendo, his powerful outlaw hips a poem of gestural caresses, too gentle and cautious to be the bold statements delivered to a female mare. Princess didn’t make a sound, but as always her body in its glorious maleness responded with that beautiful, outlaw-sized erection… and, as Braeburn grunted and spasmed his gift into his only true love, also with a fantastic cum-shot that sailed right across the room and painted the wall. Big Macintosh always came hardest on the end of a horse-cock. Before Braeburn, this had been a source of horror. But before Braeburn, there had been no Princess… Braeburn sagged, panting, sweating. “Mmm?” whimpered Big Macintosh. His clenches, as he’d fired his own ejaculation at the wall, had pret-near crunched Braeburn’s dick clean off. “Mmmmm…” reassured Braeburn. Big Macintosh cried. Braeburn let him, whispering soothing words, cuddling. It had to be wrenching, to go on a tour like that. Once, Princess had returned to Ponyville and then couldn’t keep quiet about things, had to kick up a fuss and run away again to rejoin Braeburn, even if it had to be out on the lonely prairie. Braeburn hugged him closer, remembering those days, murmuring assurances. “It’s okay… over ‘fore you know it… p’raps you’ll make some nice mares happy, won’t that be nice? We’ll be waitin’ for you.” Big Macintosh’s eyes, full of tears and woe, met his. Princess was always so undefended, so earnest. Something about that bath of adoration and love, it gave you a real foundation on life, made a cowpony feel like a real stallion. You wanted to live up to it, that uncritical worship. Braeburn smiled, his eyes crinkling up irresistibly. “Ain’t jes’ your family, Princess. Somepony more than that. Somepony who will never leave you. Go on. Who’s your very most special somepony?” Big Macintosh… looked away. At that moment, Braeburn’s heart froze. He covered for it, instinctively, saying “O’ course your family, well, that’s the most special thing of all, ain’t it?” He talked on, a lifetime of outlaw treachery coming to his aid, helping him not reveal his private feelings. At all costs, he could not dig deeper into the tiny crack that revealed the loss of all his foundations. Everything he knew, everything he was, united in screaming their warnings and he smiled and soothed and revealed nothing. Once, Braeburn had shared his joys with a pegasus mare, and she’d got pregnant and set out to find him and keep him, and that was just hard luck, wasn’t it? That wasn’t the way the game was played. At the time, he’d clued in to what she was suggesting, and he wasn’t having any of that from a rogue mare who’d let herself conceive in spite of everything he’d intended. It was easy to tell. He’d smiled then, too… smiled with a bright and innocent gaze, that hid the certain truth: he was going to leave and she’d never see him again, and he could see it in her eyes, see the realization that the sexy outlaw was moving on. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Her eyes were pits of quicksand, were snares… she would chase him until he dropped, because she wasn’t her own any more. She was his, body, heart and soul, whether he wanted it or not. Braeburn fought desperately to keep that same look out of his own eyes. One glimpse into Princess’s truthful gaze had warned him, and he knew in his bones if he revealed his own weakness, it was over. Something had happened, and Princess wasn’t his, and he had to stall for time until he could work out what to do. The prairie had all the time in the world. An outlaw cowpony knew that sometimes, you needed time. He would need all the time of his whole life if he meant to exist… after Princess. Braeburn smiled, gutted, as Princess looked away. Big Macintosh, his bum throbbing delightfully, wept and stared at nothing. There seemed nothing comforting he could possibly look at. His fate was too terrifying. He would miss those he loved in Ponyville, sure enough. That was only the beginning of his problems. Big Macintosh had lost his heart when a Kirin came to Ponyville. She’d been his lover, and they’d parted bravely, each realizing their worlds were too different, that they could not be each others’ special someponies. He had a home. She had… responsibilities. As far as she’d known, he accepted this. And then, hearing that Vinyl Scratch and Octavia needed a roadie for a Neighpon tour, his world had ground to a halt in an instant, and become a stale puppet thing in the face of his grand new vision. And since then, he’d lived like some sort of spy: protecting his plan, but unable to tell any of the ponies he loved about it. This didn’t come naturally to him, but he wasn’t a big talker and that helped. Big Macintosh wept. He would miss Ponyville, of course. But he was leaving on a boat bound for Neighpon the next day. He simply had to keep the secret, for himself and for Hina his Kirin true love, whom he would find in Neighpon… somewhere. And he would learn to love her home and share it with her… for he would never return to Ponyville. Sailing“Arr! No more dilly-dallyin’! Walk the plank, ya swab!” demanded Applejack, ebulliently. “Yeah!” cried Northern Spy. “Walk the plank, Big Macintosh, right now!” “Whut plank?” asked Big Macintosh, his ears laid back in dismay. Applejack blinked. “Why… this one right here, that goes between th’ dock and the boat. Step quickly! Ah tole you, if we went out by Hoofington we could take all the time we like at the dock, but this here’s a Manehattan dock and time’s a wasting!” “Because you have to go down the river instead of heading straight east to Neighpon?” guessed Rainbow Dash. Applejack glowered. “Because this is a busy port! We gotta get our boat outta the way so other ponies kin launch!” Big Macintosh didn’t seem ready to walk the plank. He shied away, raising a forehoof, a look of dismay in his eyes. This wasn’t new: even when leaving Ponyville he’d been anxious, gazing at Braeburn as if frightened of the cowpony stallion’s bright and brazen smile, and then even more alarmed by Rarity’s farewell. And that seemed odd, but Rarity had been in an odd mood herself. She’d hugged Big Macintosh, gazed deeply into his eyes, given him a kiss and told him, “My blessing goes with you, darling. Be well.” It seemed an odd thing to say, and Sweetie Belle had chimed in with “What was that about?” but Rarity had shushed her and hugged Big Macintosh again with a sort of bold, defiant tearfulness, and refused to explain herself. And Braeburn had bolted and run to his house and shut the door, and wouldn’t explain either, though he paced like a demon in there. And so they’d headed West, on a road trip to Manehattan, where their boat trip to Neighpon would begin. And, on the docks of Manehattan, surrounded by busy maritime commerce, Big Macintosh had developed cold hooves. Applejack had no patience for landlubber farmponies. “Dang it! Like this, you big lug!” she cried, and leapt onto the plank herself. She trotted back and forth across it, twirling and lashing her tail, then jumped onto the deck of the boat. “Come on!” “I kin do that!” said Northern Spy, and jumped boldly onto the plank herself. “You ain’t goin’ to Neighpon!” laughed Applejack. “So what? I… waugh!” Northern Spy had tried to twirl like her Mom, gangly filly legs frisking on the narrow plank, but her right rear hoof missed its purchase. With a squeal, she toppled… and with a whoosh, Rainbow Dash zipped under the plank in half a loop-de-loop to catch her wayward foal. “Not with balance like that you’re not!” proclaimed Dash. Spy pouted, and gave her a glare. “I meant to do that! I was swimming.” “In salt water?” objected Dash. “Ain’t salt water up here,” said Applejack. “This lake’s fed by run-off from th’ mountains.” “Oh, well in that case…” “WHOA!” squeaked Vinyl Scratch. “First of all, Applejack’s right, we need to get moving. This is an important port and other boats do need to dock here.” Rainbow Dash blinked at her, about to drop her recalcitrant filly into the water. “And? Is there a second of all?” Scratch made a face. “The lake is also fed by the run-off from Manehattan. Look at it. Smell it!” Dash and Northern Spy looked. They sniffed. Spy flung her forelegs around Blue Mom’s neck. “NOPE nope nope nope nope!” she vowed. Dash laughed. “Me either! I gotta travel home with you, squirt! Let’s get back onto the dock.” Octavia cringed. “Is that where the odor comes from? Why ever do they do it? Ew!” Vinyl Scratch shrugged. “Once you get on the river it’s a lot better. Hoofington doesn’t have this big of a port, and the city’s not so near the water.” “Why would that matter?” asked Octavia. “The city’s sewers aren’t as near the water, either…” “Come on, then!” called Applejack. “We already had a mess o’ harbor horses load our cargo down in th’ hold, and that’s all the ballast we need. This here boat’s shipshape from bilge ta binnacle. All we need is our crew, and that’s you ponies, an’ especially you, Big Macintosh! You’re gonna be my bosun startin’ in about, oh, ten seconds, or I swear I’m gonna run up th’ red flag and then Celestia help you…” With little eeps, Vinyl, Octavia and Big Macintosh ran across the plank to stand, swaying uneasily, on the deck of the ship. “Woohoo!” cheered Applejack. “I’ll make y’all sailors yet! Big Macintosh, loose that lanyard an’ cast off!” “Whut?” mumbled Big Macintosh, his eyes rolling fretfully. Applejack sighed. “Untie that there rope, so the boat kin go.” She shook her head, and muttered, “Still time to go git a crew that ain’t a bunch of green sprogs…” “Green what?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Nevermind. That’s th’ way, Big Macintosh! Now, all y’all get on the poop and wave bye to Rainbow Dash an’ Northern Spy!” Octavia’s face showed epic dismay. “Is this some sailor thing? Must we?” “Well yeah, come on!” “But I don’t see any,” protested Octavia. “Though I can smell it, now that you mentioned sewers. Can I get on that ledge at the back instead?” Applejack sagged. “Sure, you do that,” she said. “That’s all Ah meant, sugarcube. It’s called the poop deck. High up at th’ stern. Uhh, the back of the ship. Yep. Go ahead.” Octavia and Vinyl Scratch scampered unsteadily to the stern of the ship, and clambered up onto the poop deck. “Oooh, a wheel!” cried Scratch. “Yep!” called Applejack. “I’ll get right to it!” She turned to face Big Macintosh, who staggered sideways across the deck. “That’s th’ way, Big Macintosh! Uh, more to the back, sugarcube, looks like you’re headin’ crossways to the side…” “Blarrrrghhh!” Applejack’s ears wilted, as she watched Big Macintosh puke into the river. “Well,” she said, “that won’t make the docks smell any th’ worse.” She twitched. “Still not too late to grab a crew… nah. Not in Manehattan. I’d git keelhauled fer tryin’ and it ain’t worth it, this thing ain’t more’n a yacht.” “Come up here on this ledge, Applejack!” called Octavia. “Rainbow and Northern Spy are waving!” “Sure,” said Applejack, “gimme jes’ a minute, gotta help my brother…” “Come up here because we don’t know how to steer this boat,” called Vinyl Scratch. “Comin’!” “But how did you become such a good sea-pony?” asked Octavia. Applejack didn’t hear. “Big Macintosh! Don’t puke down in them bilges, they smell bad enough, dang it!” she yelled down into the hold. “Ah’m sorry, what was that again?” “You seem to know everything,” said Octavia admiringly. “However did you become such a very good sailor?” Applejack’s eyes widened in surprise. “My sakes! Well, thank you for that… heh! Good, y’say… who would have thought somepony would end up callin’ me a GOOD sailor. Heh, heh…” “What’s so funny?” demanded Vinyl Scratch. “You look like that’s a big joke. No, wait… you look like it’s an even better story than we thought. That’s a heck of a grin, Applejack. Spill it!” Big Macintosh, who’d staggered back up above decks, reeled over to the gunwales of the ship, where he clung. “Blurrrghhh!” “Not you!” yelled Scratch and Applejack, together. “It’s all right,” said Octavia bravely and a little greenly. “He can feed the fishes some more, I’m starting to get used to it. Curse you, Scratchie, you’ve taken to this like a duck to water!” Scratch cackled happily. “It’s fun! I feel like some kind of… it makes me want to go yo ho ho, and do a dance, and then climb up the mast or something!” Applejack grinned. “You got it! Welcome to th’ life, ya scurvy dog of a pony!” Scratch rounded on her. “And that’s why you have to tell us your story!” she accused. “You’re way too good at this, and you don’t even act like the Applejack we know. I think it’s bumming Big Macintosh out, and he’s my roadie so I expect an explanation, Captain Applejack. I’m, like, responsible for his care while I’m employing him. Even if we haven’t started the tour yet. So what gives?” Applejack stared back, wide-eyed. “Hang on. You’re protectin’ Big Macintosh… FROM me?” Big Macintosh glanced back at them, from his position leaning over the gunwale. His countenance was miserable. Then, he turned back to his fish-feeding activities. “Urrrrgh…” “You’re very fierce,” said Octavia. “I confess, I want to trot about doing your bidding just to keep out of trouble, and really you’re not only our dear friend, but also a sort of hired hoof. You know? We’re only taking a boat, but I’d pictured it as a pleasant cruise. Not as a, a… pirate crew!” Applejack had gone scarlet in the face and ears. Her eyes were wide and shocked. She gulped, and said, “Old habits die hard. Ah reckon I do owe y’all an explanation. How about you set back, an’ I’ll tell you a story?” “Is it a true story?” challenged Scratch. “Or is it like a fiction story? Or, what are they called, an allegory?” “One of them bit off my ol’ captain’s hoof once,” volunteered Applejack. “He dove into th’ sea, beat the snot out of the critter and got it back. We sewed it on again and after a unicorn did some healin’ spells it was almost good as new, exceptin’ it hurt every time he got near a swamp.” “So you’re making it up?” said Scratch. Applejack’s eyes widened. “Nuh-uh! It’s all true, all of it, especially them bits that are lies. Cos’ we’re allowed to fib, the kind of pony I was. It’s expected.” Big Macintosh was watching, his stomach surrendering to emptiness for the moment. “You gave up lyin’, Applejack.” “Shush, you,” she said. “This is kinda why. You might say I got it outta my system? Ain’t nobody ever heard this story. And it’s all lies, and it’s all true. But you got to never tell. This tale is only for th’ high seas.” They stared, entranced. “Er,” said Vinyl Scratch, “it’s pretty calm. If the seas get high, Big Macintosh will throw up again. So you’d better tell us now.” With a little halfsmile playing about her lips, Applejack began. “Never did tell anypony what I did after I left Manehattan. It’s true enough that I returned home on account of findin’ the hoity toity ways a lil’ rich for my blood, but I din’t go straight home an’ that’s another lie. I’mma ask you not to tell the foals, especially my own lil’ tearaway Northern Spy, because she would be on the high seas by sunset an’ probably Dashie with her, and we got a nice kind honest family and don’t need no piratin’ kinfolk. Okay?” The listening ponies nodded, wide-eyed. “Good,” said Applejack, with a glint in her eye. “See to it you keep that promise. Ah’m still pirate enough to whop you one if you fail me, as I’m sure everypony knows.” She winced. “Except Apple Bloom. I guess it’s in th’ blood. Don’t you dare tell Apple Bloom about this, she’d be even worser than Spy, though she’s found an outlet runnin’ the farm, just as I did…” “Well, it’s true enough that I was tirin’ of Manehattan. Started to get real cranky, lookin’ at all these soft rich lazy ponies loungin’ around eatin’ fancy food an’ dressin’ up. It was worse ‘cause I myself was doin’ the same thing, and learnin’ to talk fancy and act the fool. I thought that was how I was s’posed to be, thought I’d get my cutie mark in fancy, but the whole time I’m jes’ gettin’ more and more ornery. Never did figure out what was happenin’ to me on account of, I was so mad at the fancy ponies that it didn’t occur to me to ogle them. Yep! I was becomin’ a mare, still with no cutie mark, still a tiny lil’ filly but with a head fixin’ to bust.” Her smile was narrow, dangerous, her eyes not directed at present company. “And that’s not all that got busted… but that is how I met Blackmane.” Octavia’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to exclaim, but a glance from Applejack stopped her cold. “Ah see you heard of him. I’m tellin’ the story, don’t interrupt. If it’s any consolation, he’s all you heard of him an’ more, but I almost beat him all th’ same. We good here, kin I continue without a passel of questions?” Octavia nodded hastily, and Applejack drew a deep breath, let it out, and stared into space a while. “I was down around th’ docks, jes’ like we were. Wanderin’ around, doin’ nothin’ much of consequence, and I see this one ship. Funny lookin’ ship, kind of shabby, all the way at the end of the dock. An’ I see it ain’t tied up, and I know that ain’t right. In fact, the crazy thing is bonkin’ up against another ship, like they rammed it into the dock an’ left it. I could tell that weren’t no way to park a ship, even one with a black flag on it, but I was fed up with doin’ things properly and, lookin’ down the dock at this ship, it give me a sort of wriggly stirrin’ in my nethers jes’ to look at it. Din’t know what I felt, din’t know what I thought, all’s I knew was I jes’ wanted to wander down that ol’ dock and see what was what. And I did.” “Imagine my surprise when I hear yellin’ behind me, and all of a sudden it’s a stampede! An’ down the dock comes all these wild ponies, fierce as anything, and the next thing you know they’re yellin’ ‘get the filly!’ and I ain’t got nowhere to run. It was get on th’ ship, or get run over. They herded me real good! I know now, that was on purpose: ain’t no police pegasi saw me, or the chase woulda really been on. But them rough ponies, they got me into this cabin quicker ’n a wink. Heh, literally. Remember, I don’t know what’s happenin’ to me, I’m jes’ restless and ready to kick heads in.” “And I try the door an’ it’s locked, and I feel the ship gettin’ underway, but if there’s one thing I know it’s this: we ain’t stayin’ in Manehattan. So I yell through the door for a while but my heart ain’t in it, and I sulk, and I kick the door for a spell, and then there’s this heavy hoof-step outside and the door opens, and I see Blackmane the Pirate with my very own eyes.” Octavia gasped, then quieted at a sharp glance from Applejack. “Thankee. Ain’t half done with th’ story, you just hold your horses. Which, as it happens, is more or less what Blackmane had in mind. He says, ‘Girl’? and I says, ‘Who you callin’ a girl?’ and he says, ‘Would you rather I called you a foal? It won’t change what’s gonna happen’ and I says, ‘Oh yeah? Well I ain’t no foal’ an’ he licks his lips, the nasty critter, and he looks me over and he says ‘Pity…’” Octavia gave a half-suppressed squeal, and fell silent again. “You hush. This ain’t that easy, missy, especially among family an’ all. This here’s a secret! But it might explain some things, especially th’ way I took control of th’ farm later… so I’mma continue my story if I may.” Three ponies nodded, though Big Macintosh looked slightly stunned. “Anyways,” said Applejack, “Ah look down and there’s a big fat thing a-dropping from between his legs. And I don’t know much but I ain’t a total fool so I tell him, ‘Buddy, this was already a bad annoyin’ day and if you think I’m ending it off by playin’ kissy face with you…’. And then the next thing I see is the back of a hoof comin’ at me an’ POW! Over I go. And I look up, and he’s smiling. An’ I spit out a tooth.” She paused, for effect. “And then… I start smiling. Can’t even help it. I’m grinnin’ worse an’ worse. And I just say, ‘Got better right quick, mister’. And I tell you, I came off the floor at him and my heart was singin’ and I did my level best to kill Blackmane, right then and there, in his own captain’s cabin. I was wearin’ some consarned frilly dress and the silly thing practically shredded right off me. I do remember tryin’ to strangle him with one of th’ sashes, but it broke. I musta got him in the head with at least five good kicks. If I’d been a grown mare, he’d have been a goner, but I din’t even have my cutie mark. I bit him, I socked him in the eye, even kicked him in th’ stones a good ‘un. Somehow I thought I was winnin’, felt a million miles tall an’ made of lightning. At the time it din’t occur to me there was two ponies gettin’ that pumped up. All I knew was, I got to take out my frustrations at last. Punched the daylights out of his dumb grinnin’ face, and then I come to an’ I realize, the hoof I’m punchin’ with is the only one I got free. He’s pinned the other three legs. An’ my heart is pounding, and the wriggly feelin’ is worse than ever, an’ then he’s pinned my free hoof with his own, four legs pinnin’ four. Except he’s got that fifth leg back again, bigger’n ever…” “I can’t figure out why I can’t stop grinnin’. He seems ta like it. I spit in his face. He licks it up, the dirty bugger, which leaves me at somethin’ of a loss. He says, ‘Normally I’d wreck your ass, but you’ve earned better’. I says, ‘Normally I’d kick your head in, let me go!’ An’ he smiles, and he says, ‘This is the final test’. An’ I look down, and here he comes… and the wriggly feelin’ practically explodes an’ I have time to notice my pee-hole’s drooled or sneezed or something, and then the only thing left to think about is the way Blackmane’s massive dick is wedging right into me without a by-your-leave…” “Ghh!” went Octavia, sweating. Scratch glanced chidingly at her. She hadn’t touched herself, but all the same, the mere story had got the romantic, fantasizing cellist off. Applejack rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I see you’ve heard of him. You know, if he hadn’t caught me at a mighty strange time of my life, it would’ve been pow’ful different.” She sighed, looking grumpy. “It wasn’t different, though. If I’m honest, it was every stupid filly’s Blackmane fantasy, an’ I fell for it. You see, I was high on fightin’ him, fed up with Manehattan, craving a big change, an’ I tell you this: by the time that dick rammed the end of my gizzards, I was already an outlaw. And a total fool, besides.” Octavia was blushing, ashamed. Her eyes begged forgiveness. “Ah am not going to guilt myself for my reactions,” said Applejack sternly. “Only for losin’ my head and being a dernfool filly about them. And for your information, you might say I was lucky and unlucky, both. You see, he was watchin’ me the whole time. If he’d started bangin’ me right off, I bet the pain of it would’ve set me right. It wasn’t kindness. He watched my eyes, and he went real slow because he could see my brains were meltin’ out my ears and he wanted to stretch out that moment as long as he possibly could. It just so happened that this choice of his sealed my fate. By the time he was halfway, I was already comin’ as hard as I ever did come in all my life, and I was screamin’ my lungs out by the time he began to really move, and I reckon I weathered the storm. I was a proper horny mare when I was becomin’ a mare. He got all of that. I believe that mattered, too. Blackmane liked to hurt nice ponies. But a proper filthy wanton wench, long’s she shared his every thought and whim? Well, he liked it, for a time.” The ponies mulled that over. “For all that, it didn’t take long for me to wake the buck up,” admitted Applejack. “At first, I was a madmare for fuckin’ and I was happy as a pig in shit, punchin’ anypony I liked. We terrorized the high seas. We robbed other ships. I swung over to ‘em myself, hangin’ by a lanyard, and strong sailorponies ran from me. That first day, Blackmane had blacked my eye and cut my face in our fightin’ and I looked like a tiny, crazy filly, and before they knew it I’d punched them twelve times and they’d run away cryin’ and I’d jes laugh. Beatin’ up ponies three times my size, not even caring… I was Blackmane’s mare and Princess of the Pirates, I thought that was what I was gonna be for the rest of my life. We’d go back to his cabin, play with our loot, fuck… he did end up doin’ every hole but I’d punch him in the eye and tell myself we was even.” “If you think about it,” continued Applejack, “folks ought to have guessed, when Applesauce died. When we let her spirit rise, by nightfall I’d fucked all th’ farm ponies, present company excepted, into th’ ground. Wasn’t that strange? Worked a treat, mind you, made a big impression, but how was it a seemingly innocent young mare had such a power of the pussy to her? Yep! It was practice. I’d already taken over a pirate ship that way, so it weren’t nothin’ unusual for me…” “Mind you, I din’t know that was what I was doin’. I know now, Blackmane was a mean bastard. Still is, more’n likely. The crew didn’t love him. They feared him. I feared nothing on account of I thought he was my special somepony an’ I was his match. And then, not long after my black eye healed up, there was that one ship that changed everything…” “Blackmane din’t care if I fucked the crew. I got a lot of ridin’ in, but it didn’t matter to him at all. Should have known that was a mite unusual, even for horses, but I was in love with Blackmane and his morals were my morals, plus I got to kick fullgrown sailorponies in the head. Mostly our pirate victims. I did also kick our crew in the head too, but me bein’ a soft touch at heart, I would come back later and make nice, apologize. Blackmane didn’t know that, but the crew, they noticed, and what’s more they figured it would get me in big trouble if Blackmane knew. I thought I was Blackmane’s other half, but I wasn’t half the wicked horse that black-hearted bugger was.” “Well, on this day I was cranky an’ sore on account of Blackmane had got up my ass again. We’re attackin’ another ship. I had this cutlass, because why just punch when you can punch and kick AND cut the rigging? I knew other ponies got up to bloody work with ‘em, but I liked workin’ with my hooves instead, and had never turned my blade on another pony. We swing over to the other ship… and it ain’t all sailors, this time.” “I’m lookin’ at another filly, even a lil’ younger than me. And I got a cutlass in my teeth, I’m ready to kick heads, and suddenly there I am, facing another pony like me. Our eyes met. And I can tell she is not the sort of pony to kick Blackmane in the head, fire up a nasty pirate romance, and be an outlaw along with him. I can see with one glance that she’s a nice pony. And she’s frail as a new flower, and she’s terrified. Of me. But I ain’t her biggest problem.” “I glance at Blackmane, an’ he can’t take his eyes off her. And he’s got a raging boner, already. And he jes’ says, ‘Throw Booties overboard. I got an upgrade’.” Octavia gasped. “You mean…?” Applejack froze her with a stare. “Ah’ll get to that! You heard right. An’ that was me. And he looks at his crew, and they ain’t too happy, and he tells them, ‘I’m bored of the willing. Do it!’” She gulped. “Ooooh… Ah tell you, that was the instant a dumb filly’s stupid love turned to white-hot hate. Throw ME overboard? Jes so’s he could rape a filly who din’t have NO kink for the wild side? I look at the crew an’ I can tell they don’t like this. Maybe they’ve seen a lot of fillies an’ most of ‘em mighty sad. Not like me, a crazy filly who’d fuck with ‘em and fight ‘em and then be kind and care about ‘em! They didn’t want to throw me overboard and replace me with this poor kid, they wanted to keep me. And that’s when I realized what I had to do.” “I spat out the cutlass, and it clanged on the deck. Looked Blackmane right in the eye, and I said, ‘How dare you, you filthy bastard? I’mma keep this nice filly, and your crew too, and I’m gonna cut off your stinkin’ cheatin’ head!’ And I grabbed the cutlass in my teeth, and I charged. Right at Blackmane, and I swung the sword with all I had, right at his neck!” The listeners waited. Finally, Vinyl Scratch said, “And?” Applejack chuckled, darkly. “There never was a pirate like Blackmane. And never will be another like him, thank goodness. I still don’t know whether I won or lost. Maybe he jes’ goes on being the Pirate Blackmane wherever he is?” “In pony hell?” said Big Macintosh. “Din’t say that. I swung the cutlass, fixin’ to cut off his head, the one time in my natural born life I was set on cold blooded murder. But my cold blooded ain’t nothin’ to the Pirate Blackmane. There’s two ends to a cutlass. The fucker caught the blade in his teeth, wrenched it out of my mouth, and got me on the side of the head with the pommel!” Octavia gasped. “Oh, no!” “Aw yeah he did! But, remember, the crew wanted to keep me? That’s what saved me. My own kindness, and also a bunch of randy sailor-fuckin’, saved me. By the time I could see straight, my crew was around me. That filly, she’s hugging me like some big rescuer hero, and cryin’, stroking my face. And there’s a lil’ spot on the horizon, and it’s a rowboat, and it’s Blackmane. The instant he saw I had the upper hoof, he abandoned ship, left all the loot and me and all his crew behind and off he went. And that was the last I saw of Blackmane the Pirate. An’ my ass hurt for a week, so I did not remember him kindly.” The listeners were silent, awed. Finally, Octavia said it. “…booties?” Applejack sighed again, but more in satisfaction. “Yep. I am the Dread Pirate Booties. Well, was. One of ‘em.” “Whaddya mean, one of ‘em?” pressed Vinyl Scratch. “Well, it’s the fetlocks, ain’t it?” said Applejack. “Dread Pirate Booties is known by his fetlocks. Well, you know there’s such a thing as socks. An’ I came aboard with a lot of frilly dumb fabric in that dress I was wearin’. Wasn’t too hard to make up some fine white fringey socks, and then I was the Dread Pirate Booties… for a time. That would be the rest of the story.” “Tell us!” squeed all three listeners, thrilled. “Gladly. This part I like better… in fact, it’s kinda why I ended up coming home, gettin’ my cutie mark and everything else. Mind you, I still lied for a while as you know. Especially about what inspired me to come home.” “Seeing Rainbow Dash’s sonic rainboom?” said Big Macintosh. “Let me tell it my way, all right, brother?” said Applejack. “Well, we all went back onto our pirate ship. I’d had reason to question where my life was headin’, and all of a sudden there I was, the Dread Pirate Booties with artificial fetlocks and a loyal crew that would do anything I asked, provided I laid ‘em and fed ‘em and cared for ‘em. We sailed around for a while, talkin’ about things. Once I got ‘em away from Blackmane, they started coming around, and I din’t have to punch them nearly as hard. The only bad time was, I caught a couple of them fixin’ to get on this filly, tiny lil’ frail unicorn filly with big big eyes. Never did work out how she was so dang thin. I punched their lights out an’ when they came to, me an’ the rest of the crew gave ‘em what for. Told them she was too little and that they should be ashamed of themselves for tryin’. And they cried. Ponies will be ponies, if you give ‘em a chance and let ‘em get their heads straight.” She cleared her throat, scanning the skyline, thoughtful. “A lot I knew. Turns out, she’s jes’ got a metabolism. She was older than I knew. Came to me a week later beggin’ my forgiveness, on account of she’d balled one of them ponies anyhow, and thought I’d be mad. Well, it gave me ideas. I’d been thinkin’, you see. Thinkin’ about what I’d seen, the night before I took over the pirate ship and kicked Blackmane out.” “Never did tell anypony that it wasn’t from a room in Manehattan that I saw it. No, sir. I did see Rainbow Dash’s sonic rainboom, and it was indeed pointin’ me back to Ponyville. Maybe it made more of an impression ‘cos I was comin’ my hooves off, stuck on the end of Blackmane’s dick, gettin’ all stretched out inside while he smacked me across th’ face with the back of his hoof. I knew how to roll with it, not get marked, but I do say that when I saw that rainbow leadin’ home, it seemed like not a half bad idea. An’ that’s the truth. And in less’n a month, home I was, and the cutie mark was jes’ a luxury because I’d gained so very much more.” A pause, and then the three listeners cheered, clapping their hooves. “Yay!” cried Scratch. “Glorious!” agreed Octavia. “Uh…” said Big Macintosh, peering off to the horizon. “Whut happened to the pirates?” “Don’t you worry!” insisted Applejack. “I am still a Blackmane-trained roughneck an’ experienced pirate captain! Ain’t nopony gonna harm a hair of our manes, so you settle down!” “You’re the Dread Pirate Booties?” asked Octavia, in awe. Applejack laid her ears back. “Nah. Not anymore. Ah passed it on.” “You mean…” “Dang straight! I’d taught my crew some things about goodness, and them lessons stuck. But you know what also stuck? Them pirate-ponies, gettin’ stuck up that filly, that’s what. She was a damn quick study, and I ain’t sure I was the wisest of horses for what I decided to do about it all. My crew was right to the point of becomin’ honest sailors… well, mostly honest. And they were every bit as respectful of our skinny unicorn filly as they were of me. Hell, I watched ‘em at it sometimes, and it proper defied gee-ometry, but she was sure happy when she wasn’t straight-up faintin’ dead away. That was a happy crew and no mistake. And so, we sailed back to Manehattan, and I kissed ‘em all goodbye, and I passed on my fetlocks to that filly and she became the new Dread Pirate Booties. An’ off she went.” “Did they stay pirates?” asked Scratch. “It sounds like you’re not sure.” “Well, I ain’t,” admitted Applejack. “I know she’s a good filly. Mare, she’d be, now. I had other concerns. It’s funny, I learned a lot from her in a really short time, about what feminine could look like. I envied her for that and couldn’t forget how different it was from Apple ways. I was always a roughneck, all stallion-y, ready to kick Blackmane’s own face if it pleased me. She was as different as they come. Willowy, graceful… she had my crew wrapped around her hoof, prob’ly a good thing I left when I did. I do remember the moment when she realized bein’ a pirate involved gettin’ loot. That lil’ face lit up like all Hearth’s Warming Morning, and I had to scold her an’ explain that other ponies deserved to have nice things too. We’d sailed around for a while, robbin’ rich boats and givin’ some of the loot to poor fisherponies, and it never seemed like that was the best way of piratin’ anyhow but she really did not like lettin’ loot go, that one. Tiny frail thing, but damn did she like treasure. Yeah… that was our new Dread Pirate Booties.” “Could she become as wicked as Blackmane?” asked Octavia. Applejack thought to herself. “I really don’t think so. Heck, I saw her get her cutie mark, and it wasn’t from bein’ wicked… well, not by Ponyville standards. She was fuckin’ one of the pirate-ponies with all the others jes’ flocking around gazing up at her like she was royalty. Real gentle and nice they were with her, but passionate. She came, and he came in her, and some of ‘em came ON her for good measure jes’ because it was all so beautiful… and she looked out over the others in this benevolent highfalutin’ way, and zang. I was so darn jealous, though I got three things for my cutie mark too, just like her. Apples, mine was. Well, of course it was, we all know that.” “What was Blackmane’s cutie mark?” asked Vinyl Scratch. Applejack snorted. “Skull an’ crossbones, of course! What else? That was the piratiest pirate ever. Glad to see the last of him. If he ain’t dead, he’s still prowlin’ the seas. I beat him once and I would delight in beatin’ him again, and now I’m a full-growed mare. Don’t you fret about Blackmane.” “Or the Dread Pirate Booties?” said Big Macintosh, worriedly. Applejack smiled. “Why, I’d love to see her again. Don’t worry. We don’t have treasure here. Leastways, she wasn’t the sort of pony to steal instruments from musicians. She’d prob’ly force you to play for her real pretty-like, then let you go, even if I wasn’t here with you. And she would remember me, oh yes. And her pirate ship ran on love… well, that and randy fuckin’. Between grace, love, wantin’ treasure and the randy fuckin’, our Dread Pirate Booties was a sight to see. Wicked? Maybe in some ways, but for all that she was kind. An’ very, very beautiful, of course. I’m sure wherever she ended up, she’s leadin’ a life of elegance.” “Elegance on a pirate ship?” said Big Macintosh, his ears laid back in confusion. “If she ain’t captaining the pirate ship, it’s because she found something better to do with herself,” said Applejack crisply. “Our Dread Pirate Booties was all about treasure, but piratin’ requires a mean streak. Now, she might have got her crew to capture a whole mess of loot for her, but I’m tellin you: I rescued her, and I taught her to be good just like I taught my crew, and she wouldn’t be an evil pony. Hell, I even know her real name, though I’m not sure where she ended up. You never can tell who’s got a past as a Dread Pirate Booties. I bet she still loves treasure, mind you, but there are kinder ways to get it.” Vinyl Scratch peered over the rim of her sunglasses. “As somepony with a certain amount of skill in the matter… might these ways involve being sexy and impressing stallions? Kind of like she learned to do, from you, as the Dread But Not Entirely Wicked Pirate Booties and beloved captain of a bunch of horny pirate stallion ponies? Beautiful, sweet, kind, and greedy for treasure and randy fucking?” Applejack shrugged. “Well… that’s ol’ Fleur De Lis for ya!” They sailed on. Customs“But… are ya sure you’re gonna be okay?” said Applejack. “Eyup.” “Whaddya mean ‘eyup’?” challenged Applejack. Octavia blinked. “Excuse me, Applejack, but doesn’t Big Macintosh often say ‘eyup’? It means ‘yes’ if I’m not mistaken.” Applejack bridled, scuffing the beautiful grass with a hoof. “But it was th’ WAY he said it!” “Uht!” chided Octavia, motioning to the ground. Applejack blushed, and stopped her nervous scuffing. They’d arrived in Neighpon early that morning, struck speechless by the radiance of the dawn as it broke across a jeweled shore of emerald grasses and pristinely painted pagodas. Applejack’s navigation had led them, not to Neighpon’s largest port, but to a small and obscure village with friendly ponies and curious docks that offered not only a place to tie up Applejack’s rented boat, but also the use of mysterious hoists and cranes. These proved very useful in removing the musicians’ gear, and Big Macintosh had assembled the cart that they’d be riding on. All but him. For Big Macintosh, there were the sturdy poles that led forward to his mighty horse-collar. Faced with the need to push not only ponies but also a heavy stack of DJ speakers, they’d continued the harness past the belly-band and hooked it to the middle of Big Macintosh’s collar, allowing him to take the load on his shoulders. Vinyl had suggested a bridle to help steer him, and reins that could lay between the hames of his collar, and both Applejack and Big Macintosh had looked at her very strangely. “Well, what are they for?” Vinyl had asked. “Them’s part of th’ collar,” answered Big Macintosh, and Vinyl had not pressed further. Now, Big Macintosh trotted in place, clearly eager to get underway, and Applejack fussed over him, just as obviously resistant. “Don’t you think he can pull our cart?” asked Octavia. “Why are you so worried?” “Aw, it ain’t that,” said Applejack. “What, then?” Applejack and Big Macintosh pouted at each other, and Applejack scuffed the grass again before remembering. Blushing, she spoke. “Of course I don’t doubt our Big Macintosh. It’s jes’… well, on the one hoof I hope you all have a wonderful time in this beautiful place, an’ on the other hoof? I guess ah jes’ hope there’s a part of you that remembers our happy home, safe an’ waiting for you.” Vinyl Scratch piped up. “It’s safe here! We have Kirin!” “Ah know that,” said Applejack, with a sharp glance at Big Macintosh. “I was jes’ thinkin’… sweet Celestia, what do they have on that there boat comin’ in? Is that… fishes? Looks like they got a mess o’ dead fishes!” Scratch followed Applejack’s disbelieving gaze. “Oh, that… yeah, it’s safe here but it’s kinda different. Those are fishes. You can eat fishes. We’ve got lots of those. And rice, miso…” “Oats? Grass?” boggled Applejack. “Y’all got me shy to stomp on just plain ol’ grass, and now I see them unicorns done kilt a whole bunch of fishes and that’s okay?” “Not needlessly!” protested Vinyl Scratch. “They’ve got to keep their strength up! The system works. I promise, the food here is good once you get used to it.” “Strength up fer what?” said Applejack. “Dancin’ across grass? What if I din’t want to eat no pieces of fishes and I wanted to eat some grass?” “Needlessly?” “You tell me!” Vinyl shook her head. “You’re used to grass, plus you’re an earth pony… anyway it’s for you to tell me. Are ya hungry? I know ship food gets monotonous, because I remember what it was like coming to Ponyville when I was little. Apple turnip cakes might store well, but they certainly don’t taste as good as grass.” Applejack winced. “Granny does her best! And I am a lil’ bit hungry now that you mention it, and what does me bein’ an earth pony have to do with anything?” Vinyl laid her ears back. “I only mean, Neighponnese unicorns are different. It’s cultural, ya know? There isn’t as much of a need for our earth ponies to eat fish… in ancient times our samurai protected the villages and needed to be strong and fierce, and unicorns still play a special role with the…” “Kirin!” cried Applejack. “Yeah, you got it! Now that we’re in Neighpon it might be a good idea to tell you more about…” “No,” said Applejack, “I mean here come some Kirin right now!” Down they came, trotting gracefully on a rainbow that formed below their cloven hooves, calling “Greetings! Welcome!”… but the gracefulness was short-lived. Big Macintosh, overcome with excitement, began to prance and leap. So did the cart he was harnessed to, and the sturdiness of the harness’s attachment to his collar delivered his force undiminished. “Hey—HEY!” screamed Vinyl Scratch. Her horn flared desperately to life, and a field of blue magic caught one of her decks as it flew over the side. She heaved a deep breath, her eyes wild. “YOU ARE SO FIRED, YOU’RE SO FUCKING FIRED RIGHT NOW…” And just like that, the Kirin were among them, zeroing in on the panicky horses, delivering pats and soothing words. “Please don’t be upset? Whatever the problem is, we’ll take care of it.” The results were immediate, and also opposite. The female Kirin had gone to Big Macintosh. The instant he got a close look at her, he quit capering, and blushed even more scarlet than usual. The male had cuddled Vinyl Scratch, and his magic firmly took the turntable from her and placed it on the now-quiet cart. “There there, little one,” he cooed. She trembled madly, her face contorting, and then burst into noisy, squalling tears in his hooves. “Whut… jes’ happened?” said Applejack, and took off her hat, surveying the aftermath. The female Kirin, seeing that Big Macintosh had quieted, turned to Applejack with a smile. “This strong horse has never seen Kirin before! He became so excited. Please do forgive him.” “Uh-huh,” said Applejack, wryly. “Ain’t the first pretty Kirin that’s seen him excited. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, missy.” “I beg your pardon?” said the Kirin. Octavia was coaxing the other Kirin to let go. “Scratchie! Yes, excuse me, darling, I shall handle this…” His ears were back in a fretful expression. “I fear she may rage further.” “She won’t,” said Octavia firmly. “And Big Macintosh won’t jump around when he’s in harness. WILL you, Big Macintosh?” “Eenope,” said Big Macintosh quietly, still blushing. “Whatever got into you, anyhow?” “Nuthin’…” Applejack put her hat back on. “I reckon it’s blown over, whatever it was. Hello there! An’ what brings you to this fish-filled lil’ village by th’ sea?” Vinyl Scratch wasn’t done. She glared petulantly at the male Kirin, and said, “I could have handled that.” “You are so sure your reaction was needful?” he said, guardedly. “Yeah,” said Scratch, “and I’m like the tour manager, and…” “A tour of entertainers?” asked the female Kirin. “Oh, how nice!” “And,” continued Scratch, “you took my deck away from me and grabbed me.” The ponies fell silent, watching the unexpected standoff between expatriate unicorn and male Kirin. Octavia in particular marveled. What had got into her DJ friend, to flip her usual hero-worship of Kirin into this pugnaciousness? The Kirin considered this. “Yes, I did. It seemed a valuable item to you and I feared you would drop it. The aura of your magic seemed somewhat… weak.” “But piquant?” retorted Scratch bitterly. “Did you like touching it?” She was trembling, and Octavia hugged her again. The Kirin frowned. “I don’t understand your distress about this. And of course! To love and support all unicorns is a blessing.” His companion gave him a look. “Kawa, dear?” “Yes, fair Yosuru?” “Please wait over there.” She gestured courteously with a hoof, and with a puzzled look, he trotted off to stand under a nearby tree. “Kawa means no harm,” explained the female Kirin, “but he falls easily into his nature…” “Yeah,” said Scratch plainitively. “I’m sorry…” “Oh, please do not be!” protested Yosuru. “I am experienced enough to have seen these things. You… attached?” “Ah swear,” announced Applejack, “I got no idea what y’all are talking about. Mind fillin’ me in?” Scratch winced. Yosuru noted this, and took on an air of brisk, businesslike authority. “You are welcome here. Is it all of you? Or just some?” “Me, and Tavi,” said Scratch, “and this big red idiot! I’m sorry, I won’t yell at him. No harm done, huh? And I’m telling you, I could have caught both decks. Is there any way you can pass word around, you know, horns off my decks?” “How seriously would you wish us to take this word?” asked the Kirin. “Must we let your precious thing be destroyed, for fear of our touching it?” Scratch looked miserable. “No, no. I’m really sorry. This isn’t how I wanted this to go…” “Do not dwell on it,” counseled the female Kirin. “Though it may be distressing… will you need Kawa? For personal adjustments? Or myself?” Scratch shook her head, even as Applejack said, “You would think this would get a mite less confusing as you keep carryin’ on, but it’s clear as mud. Personal what now?” “Am Ah still fired?” asked Big Macintosh plainitively. Vinyl Scratch turned to him. “You carry our stuff GENTLY from now on. Got it? And I think we’re done here. There will be lots of Kirin everywhere if we need ‘em, it’s not urgent to take care of it right away.” “But take care of WHAT?” demanded Applejack. Vinyl blinked at her. “Well, they can make Ponyville’s stud-horse there be firing blanks. Do you want to be infertile, Big Macintosh? You still gotta be our roadie, so don’t get too distracted by pretty tails along the way!” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. He shook his head frantically. “Suit yourself,” replied Scratch. She looked at the female Kirin. “Maybe he’ll like Applejack. Not that she’s much more use to him! Uh, sorry again. I think we should hit the road, though. Is that okay? I’ll handle introducing these ponies to Neighpon. And if we need help we’ll ask, okay?” The female Kirin nodded, and smiled. “Quite okay. Go with our blessing. May your music all be sweet!” Scratch grinned. “That just proves you haven’t heard all my music. Tavi, ya ready?” “I don’t know whether this is some diplomatic meeting that we’re doing wrong!” protested Octavia. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s… services, that we don’t need. Or at least don’t need right now,” corrected Scratch. “Stop fidgeting, Big Macintosh, and giddyup!” Big Macintosh had been trotting in place, but at that word, he sprang forward… or, rather, he stopped in mid-leap, looked embarrassed, and then pushed gently at his harness. The cart moved smoothly forward, and he added more and more muscle until the cart with Vinyl, Octavia and a load of musical instruments and DJ gear was zooming away across the ravishingly beautiful landscape. Soon it was gone, leaving Applejack blinking in puzzlement at the female Kirin, and the male Kirin at his diplomatic distance. “Do ya need me to run off too?” asked Applejack. “Ah kin try to scare up some sailors, or find out if anypony’s travellin’ up Canterlot way. Usually there’s somepony who’ll serve as crew.” She twitched. “Uh, so Ah hear!” “No, indeed!” said Yosuru. “Our hospitality extends to you too. Are you not the brave Applejack who battled terrible vampires?” Applejack’s eyes widened. “Well, one was proper terrible an’ no mistake, and the other’s our little cuddle-fangy-pie and don’t you go fretting her. Oh, wait, there was two bad ‘uns, not countin th’ home team. Sorry! To hear Fluttershy an’ Pinkie tell it, Snowy was even worse’n Hollyhock!” Kawa, the male Kirin, wandered back over, fascinated. “Then it is all true? In Ponyville the simple earth ponies fight monsters?” Applejack scratched her head. “Well, there’s th’ vampires of course. A chimera tried to git Apple Bloom one day, but I settled its breakfast. Discord ain’t prop’ly a monster, more of a disaster… um, the occasional dragon, not countin’ Spike obviously… griffons is more a hot roll in th’ hay, at least Gilda, but watch out for them claws and I ain’t tellin’ you how I learned, oh and of course the hydra, and mustn’t forget the bugbear. Parasprites ain’t so bad when you leave ‘em be and don’t have unicorns playin’ fancy tricks with ‘em, Diamond Dogs ain’t prop’ly monsters at all except you got to step lively and not make silly mistakes with ‘em, Timberwolves is just part of the Zap Apple harvest to us…” The Kirin gawped in astonishment. Kawa’s eyes were wide. “I see it is true.” “Feel her pony heart,” said Yosuru appreciatively. “Not even a grudge!” Applejack eeped, jumping back. “Er, that’s okay! My heart is jes’ fine where it is!” “No, kind mare!” soothed Yosuru. “You need not fear us! I meant through Kirin methods.” Applejack narrowed her eyes. “Right. I do remember the Kirin who came to town when we broke out in vampires. Cain’t fault her for feelin’ up a storm but I’m not quite sure where the methods come in.” Kawa gasped. “A Kirin came to your town? All that way?” Yosuru touched a magic-fetlocked cloven hoof to his muzzle, quieting him. “I know about this. She was very young. Still unweaned. She learned much.” “Young and unweaned, my pony ass,” quipped Applejack. “She went with Big Macintosh, and that ain’t milk, I’ll tell ya right now. She made a big impression.” Applejack frowned. Yosuru’s eyes widened. “Your aura!” “Nay, her tears,” said Kawa. It was true. Applejack’s banter had broken down as soon as she’d raised the issue of Hina, and her eyes welled up with tears. The Kirin fretted, trotting in place on the grass and not counting the bent blades for a change. Kawa glanced at Yosuru, the elder, deferentially. Yosuru bit her lip. “Please, may we comfort your hurts?” said Yosuru, keeping her distance but directing an open, pleading gaze upon the visiting earth pony. Applejack gulped, and tried to smile. “Ain’t you some fluffy, huggy critters… reminds me of home.” “Is that yes?” asked Yosuru, trying to sense Applejack’s emotional state without digging too deeply into her psyche. “Sure. C’mere.” And Applejack cried into the Kirin mare’s untroubled mane, as she and her male companion cuddled and petted their charge. “There, there, there,” soothed Yosuru. “You can talk when you’re ready. There is no hurry. We devote ourselves to you.” “Y’do, huh?” grumbled Applejack. “Ah shouldn’t be carryin’ on this way. Some monster-fightin’ tough mare I am!” “Not at all,” chided Yosuru gently. “The harness-horse, he is surely your brother. The bonds of family love! How can that be wrong?” “Nice of you to say it… maybe I’m jes’ imagining things… we’re gonna miss him so dang much…” “The ties of the heart chafe when they are first stretched,” said Kawa. “He has not travelled before?” said Yosuru. Applejack sniffled. “Not sure Fillydelphia really counts. Dammit! Back in Ponyville he was more fretful than a unicorn usin’ a porcupine for a mane-brush, how come we got here and he’s dashin’ off with high steps an’ it’s me who’s the cry-filly?” “Would you not give him the gift of joy in his journey?” suggested Kawa. “Say what now?” The male Kirin hugged her closer. “He seems a good horse. Won’t it hurt him to know he left you lonely?” “Aw, now,” said Applejack, “that’s puttin’ it kinda strong. I’m worried for him, to tell you the truth. Ain’t the first time he’s left home for love, assumin’ I’m right about that. He ran away to Appleloosa once, with our second cousin Braeburn. And brung him back to live with us, even!” “Do you see?” said Yosuru. “Pony love and family is a powerful force. Let your brother enjoy his travels with us. You’ll be there to welcome his happy return.” Applejack sniffled, and grinned. “With a young Kirin in tow! What’d you say, unweaned? Hate to say it but our boys in Ponyville kin make use of that behavior. Hope she likes protein.” “Who?” said Yosuru, puzzled. “Hina! You know, the Kirin that visited us. I’m his sister, you think I don’t know his mind? He won’t say nothin’ but I’m convinced it ain’t just music he’s after.” Yosuru blinked. “I think not,” she said. “I don’t know Hina… but she is still a Kirin. Even in her naivete she would not presume that. We don’t work that way.” “Did ya check her cooter when she got back?” suggested Applejack. “I reckon you manage jes’ fine. In fact from what little he was willin’ to say, she’s a real prize, top class cooter and Big Macintosh has had th’ chance to compare a few. He got mad when I tried to find out if she was better’n an alicorn Princess, and that alone speaks volumes.” “No, I mean… We belong to all Neighpon,” said Yosuru earnestly. “Of course she could satisfy. It’s our gift.” “Heh!” said Applejack. “You sound like Dashie! I’m sorry you din’t get to practice on our visiting farm pony. I think he’d have given you a shock!” “There are Kirin everywhere,” said Kawa, with a shrug. “They will attend him. If he needs our services.” “I reckon,” said Applejack. She gave him a hug, then Yosuru. “Thankee! I’ll get movin’, I need to ask about crew for sailin’ back to Canterlot. Might need to stay the night, but I don’t mind workin’ and I’m sure somepony can put me up. I surely do appreciate your snuggly ways, this is a nice country…” Kawa cleared his throat. “YOU as well, no less than he, stand as our guest.” Applejack froze, and glanced back at the handsome male Kirin. “Ya don’t say?” Yosuru tsked. “Kawa, she has expressed her wishes to us.” “Even so,” replied her companion. “Hospitality demands that I offer.” Yosuru’s retort died in her throat, as the visiting earth pony mare not only stopped leaving, but turned to face the male Kirin with an inquisitive gaze and a flicking tail. “Well, now,” said Applejack. “You wouldnt’a known this, but I got this friend, named Twilight Sparkle. And she’s got a friend named Trixie. And they’re a pair of unicorn mischief-makers the likes of which you ain’t never seen, but there’s one story they never would tell. Said it’s not fair to tease, ‘cos ponies don’t get to just go to Neighpon…” “Please go on,” said Kawa. “I intend to,” said Applejack. “Seems as they departed Neighpon with Discord an’ our Princess Celestia, somepony saw fit to entertain our unicorns and alicorns with a little Neighponnese send-off. With Kirin. Male Kirin. Four of ‘em. And the sheer smugness on these unicorns, well, it told a story all its own. And that’s around when Twilight Sparkle refused to tell any more, on account of it would be rude to Princess Celestia. Which I’ll tell you is purest horse-hockey, ‘cos she’s a mare jes’ like anypony and I’m kinda proud of her for gettin’ out and shakin’ it a little, after all those years!” Yosuru and Kawa studied her for a while. “What are you asking?” said Yosuru. “If, indeed, you are asking?” “Dang right I am,” said Applejack. “Do you have special Kirin stallions with rare talents for fuckin’?” Kawa gave a little half-smile, and Yosuru gently cuffed him with a fluffy, cloven hoof. “Oh, tell her.” “All Kirin stallions,” corrected Kawa. “It is our duty, and our preciousest gift.” “Bein’ a proper mare-melter?” said Applejack. “Life,” said Kawa solemnly. Applejack’s ears went back for a moment, and she re-settled her hat on her head. “Run that by me again?” she said. “Are Twi and Trixie gonna pop out with Kirin twins?” Both Kirin flinched, but covered it with practiced diplomatic poise. “You misunderstand,” said Yosuru. “It is not that sort of gift. Kirin exist alongside pony society. We don’t seed ponies. We provide comfort. And we make possible what would be impossible…” “For unicorn mares,” concluded Kawa. Applejack’s brow scrunched as she worked it out. “Mebbe… kinda like they done for the Princess Luna… Ah got it! Unicorns, huh? Do you mean that in Neighpon, earth ponies and unicorns can make families and have foals all they want because you critters get in there and prime those pussies for ‘em?” Yosuru’s diplomacy was sorely tested by the ebullient crassness of the Ponyville mare. Kawa, on the other hand, looked gloriously smug. “Any unicorn pussy,” he confirmed. “And health care. And for when they wish no foals.” Applejack turned to the female Kirin. “And kin Kirin pussy do the same thing for a stallion? Make him gush like a zebra, or cork up? Uh, except that’d hurt somethin’ awful, don’t ask me how I know…” Yosuru’s smile was awkward, but sincere. “We have other magic gifts. All Kirin have great powers. Kirin mares devote themselves to pleasuring. We are very good at absorbing magic. We share that. But it is the stallions who excel at husbandry.” “Works on stallions, too,” admitted Kawa, “but some don’t like it that way. And it’s far more difficult.” “How so?” pressed Applejack, swishing her tail again. “There is no direct connection to the parts…” Applejack laughed. “Got ya! You’re right. Mind you, we got plenty of stallions up each others’ tails just for sport! Damn. Here’s your Kirin doctor, takin’ your temperature! Don’t mind when he blows his load, it’s just cooling fluid!” “It could be,” noted Kawa. “If a pony is running a bad fever…” It was Applejack’s turn to flinch. “Sweet Celestia. Ya come COLD spooge?” He shook his head. “Kirin are magic! You misunderstand. We are not horses.” “But…” stammered Applejack. “whaddya come, then?” Both Kirin looked smug. “Just magic,” said Kawa. “For all purposes.” Applejack studied him, in awe and trepidation. “Okay. Lemme get this straight. Just ‘cause I’m here on your shores, good old Captain Applejack out of Canterlot ferryin’ passengers to Neighpon, you’re gonna give me a magic hocks-wobbler and send me on my way?” Kawa cleared his throat. “Anything you wish,” he said, and Yosuru nodded. Applejack seemed frozen in place, her eyes very wide. She gulped. “Ya mean it?” she said. “Anything you wish,” he repeated, earnestly. Applejack licked her lips, feeling a little light-headed. She giggled, nervously. “Husbandry…” she said. “It is our calling…” “Kin ya… help two mares to conceive? Jes’ between them, I mean?” That broke the spell. Kawa and Yosuru looked at each other, startled. They glanced back at her, apologetic. “Regrettably, no… because mares produce a kind of egg, not semen…” Applejack’s heart was pounding. “What if she kin? I mean, I can. We can…” “No, you can’t,” began Kawa, and Yosuru shushed him again. “Let her speak.” Applejack took a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s th’ thing… I got half an idea this here might be shocking to y’all, but it’s our way. Least it is now… our Twi and Trixie, they came up with this way to make lil’ magic bit things. You bite down on it, you get a magic dick, maybe not so little in that case, and y’ go to town. Switch back an’ forth, go all night or until your pegasus is losin’ too many feathers from all the erotic explodin’ she gits up to. They kin fly so you kin keep going even after they can’t walk… the point being, we’re mares but we can have it both ways, kinda.” The Kirin looked on, stunned. Applejack pressed on. “And I can see this don’t sit well with ya but it’s our way and my Rainbow, she’s foaled sort of with me but also sorta… not. But I ain’t talkin’ about her, I mean I ain’t talkin’ about her gettin’ pregnant again, she probably don’t want to now that she’s back in top flyin’ shape though she was gosh dern good at it, being pregnant I mean. But… Aw, dang it. Kirin, kin I please have my Dashie lay me and I’ll get pregnant by it? I won’t make it no habit or nothin’. But I’ve raised our foal an’ with the help of some unicorn magic I even nursed her for a time and I’ve had just a lil’ taste of what Dashie had. And now that you’re talkin’ this way, there is nothing that I want more than to be my Rainbow Dash’s mare.” Yosuru looked at Kawa. Kawa looked at Yosuru. “Pregnant mare,” clarified Applejack. Her legs were trembling as she stood. She bit her lip, dropped her gaze, blushing. “Feel her,” suggested Yosuru. “Sure, if ya want,” said Applejack, “but what I mean is…” “Sh! No, I mean, Kawa, feel her heart!” He gulped. “The purity…” “Actually I was hopin’ it’d be kinda dirty, that’s just my way,” added Applejack. “It’s the Ponyville way, don’t you dare make foals if you ain’t got the sense to come your tail off doin’ it…” “Please be quieter,” said Yosuru, “we must combine and consult.” “Huh?” “I’m not qualified. We need permission.” Applejack fell silent, scuffing the grass and then remembering and smoothing it down again. The Kirins’ horns lit and wove a tracery of light, and a streamer of magic shot off into the sky. Then it cut out, and they waited. Then, just as Applejack was about ready to stampede off home from sheer tension, a rainbow cut through the sky, forming with uncommon speed. Applejack gulped, hoping it was a good omen. A speck of light moved along the rainbow. It was a Kirin, almost completely draped in magic that went beyond mane and fetlocks… tail, eyebrows, everything was luminous and shining. Its goatee reached nearly to the rainbow it ran on… and run it did, galloping for dear life, at a pace that would have exhausted most any normal pony and would challenge even the fastest pegasus. Applejack gulped, hoping she wasn’t about to be arrested. In what seemed like an instant, the newcomer arrived. It was a male Kirin, and startlingly old, though his bearing betrayed no weariness even after his mad gallop. He trotted down to the grass without so much as bending it, nodded to Kawa and Yosuru, said “Children.” “Daiyam,” murmured the younger Kirin reverently. He lifted his chin, and with just a look, they fell silent. He turned to Applejack, and his eyes just drank her in, as no expression passed across his face. Applejack blushed, scuffed the grass yet again, caught herself, smoothed it and gave him a truculent look… but, somehow, still pleading. Her lower lip poked out, just a bit, and as it did, Applejack looked much like her foal Northern Spy. Her jaw tightened, and a hint of Granny Smith entered the mix. And then the barest hint of frightened tears suggested that hidden, vulnerable side of Rainbow Dash, but Applejack didn’t lower her gaze, not for some Celestia-damned Neighponnese elder d…deity… “This mare has a mother’s heart,” said Daiyam, casually. “Ah beg your pardon?” blinked Applejack. He smiled, then, and her heart leapt. He nodded, thoughtfully, speaking: “How precious the vase / trusted to hold the water / permitted one crack?” Applejack whispered to Yosuru, “Is he askin’ whether he gits to have a turn?” “Sh,” whispered Yosuru. The exchange seemed to amuse Daiyam… but then, the smile faded. He looked sternly at Yosuru and Kawa, particularly at Yosuru. “A tumbling rock / strikes the wind chimes so sweetly / and then moves along.” Yosuru paled. She nodded. “Understood.” The smile was back, as if it had never left. “Yes,” said the old Kirin. He nodded slowly, smiled again at Applejack, and sprang lightly onto his rainbow. And, with no further remarks, he trotted unhurriedly up the rainbow, which dissipated after him. They watched him go. “Dang,” said Applejack. “What was all that? You know, Dursaa once talked about Shy havin’ a fiercely churning crack an’ Pinkie was really offended. Is that really a nice way to talk about mares?” “No, no!” protested Yosuru. She gathered her composure, and added, “No. Daiyam speaks forth in beauty. It is for us to hear him. I know what he meant.” “Mind fillin’ me in?” said Applejack. She snickered, and prodded Kawa with a hoof. “I’m happy enough it’s this feller lookin’ to fill me in. The old geezer seems spry enough but he’s so dang serious!” “This is serious!” retorted Kawa. “You will see.” “Don’t undervalue Daiyam,” chided Yosuru. “It is honor just to have his permission. Our culture’s the vase. The crack is what we will do. It is his way of saying that there’s no harm in this. You will move along. Ahhhhh… please don’t bring magic bits here.” Applejack blinked. “Hadn’t occurred to me. He said that?” “Yes… the rock. Both in the second poem, and implicit in the first. I’m quite sure. Forgive us? They have no place here.” “Well, all right. Hmph. Y’know, we let Kirin in, and a dern fussy Kirin it was too,” said Applejack, and pondered. “But now that I think about it, she didn’t get up to this sort of stuff when she was in Ponyville, apart from walkin’ on some rainbows.” She chuckled. “At least, until my own Rainbow blew it up and caught the lil’ sweetie in mid-air, for a joke. An’ she was a good sport about it, too. All right. Let Ponyville be Ponyville, and you kin be Neighpon.” “We thank you,” said Yosuru. Applejack was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You ain’t foolin’ me? About me and Dash, I mean? There… there might be a chance that you kin make me fertile to her with a bit and dick an’ all?” “Not a chance,” said Kawa. Applejack’s face fell. She looked down, and then back up at him with angry eyes. “Well, shit, son, weren’t that a lot of fuss for nothin’?” “No, listen!” he urged. “I mean it literally. It is not a chance. It is certainty. Kirin know of these bit things. But not that you would wield one! We sent lots of information to Daiyam. Many Kirin joined. Though it is a one time thing… we are confident. It pleases us to give a mother a foal. Because that mother is you.” Applejack gaped at him. She tried to speak, but her lip was quivering too hard. His smile had gone blurry, or else it was her brimming eyes, or both. Applejack took a deep breath. “My sakes, Mister Kawa. Ya got me so emotional I forgot to be horny. Dashie would be ashamed of me for that. Gimme a minute? I mean, if we’re gonna get busy out here an’ all?” He shook his head. “We know this town well.” “They won’t stand for it?” “They will offer us the finest suite in the tavern. It’s good fortune to favor any Kirin: how much more, when I perform service for an honored guest from far Canterlot?” “Dang,” marvelled Applejack. They walked sedately along the docks, into the little town. The Kirin walked decorously to either side of Applejack, as if part of a small parade. After several foreleg-hugs, she’d got them to snuggle up closer, and they all walked slower, to have time for nuzzling and kisses. Your Assistance“Where does this big speaker go, Scratchie?” asked Octavia. Scratch frowned. “You shouldn’t be moving it, Tavi. It’s heavy!” Octavia scoffed. “It’s fine! Oof… mostly fine! I’m strong enough, Scratchie, don’t worry.” “Yeah, but… we have a roadie for a reason, Tavi! Townsponies don’t want to see you lugging equipment. Besides, I can carry my decks but look at that thing! What if it topples over and smushes you? You know my magic isn’t strong enough to stop it.” “I’ll pretend it’s Stout Heart. You know, when he’s all spent afterwards. It shall inspire me. Big Macintosh can carry the other speaker.” “You should carry the amps!” argued Scratch. “Or actually, not even the amps. We’re splitting the take three ways, Tavi, and he doesn’t even play, and he’s super strong. This is his part to do, and I do the wiring and sound-checking, and you sell the tickets, remember?” “And plan the acoustics,” added Octavia. “I told you about that, Scratchie, that’s why I’m trying to carry the speaker.” “You’re dragging it,” complained Scratch. “It’s got all grass stains around the bottom.” “I’m sure it’s seen worse stains than that, Vinyl Scratch.” Scratch winced, grinning. “Got me there.” “And you simply aren’t taking the acoustics seriously,” said Octavia, “it’s like you think you can set up the speakers any old place, and they’ll be fine!” Scratch blinked. “Uh… they kind of will. Haven’t you heard me play, Tavi? We’re going to rock this whole town.” Octavia pouted. “Indeed I have heard you play, and your strength of personality overcomes much, but I’m convinced it will be even better with proper speaker positioning. There’s a bit of a natural amphitheater over this way, and we can position things so there isn’t a tiresome echo off that cliff. You’ll see.” “Echoes are cool,” countered Scratch. “I’ve played in basements that are just one big echo, and it’s nuts: the place just fills up with sound.” Octavia shuddered demurely, and stuck out her lower lip. “You must trust me. Anyhow, I am opening for you, and I know what my cello will need. Didn’t you see me trotting around and clapping my hooves together, and listening?” “I do trust you,” said Vinyl Scratch earnestly. “Even if I think you shouldn’t be moving those yourself.” “Big Macintosh will move the other speaker,” said Octavia. “I’ll show him where it must go.” Scratch scratched her head, and looked in all directions, as Octavia labored. “Where IS he?” Big Macintosh looked this way and that, wide-eyed and nervous. Heads turned to stare at him: he knew his appearance in the little Neighpon town was causing a stir, but it couldn’t be helped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement: a pegasus, streaking across the sky, clad in some sort of uniform that was all angles and spikes. Or was it even a pegasus? There was no telling. He ducked back into the shelter of a doorway, and was startled by a squeal. He whirled, to see that he’d been backing up into a little cafe, and had nearly squished an earth pony mare. Her eyes were even wider than his: she hadn’t even recognized his species until he turned, she’d been forced back into the cafe by a titanic farm horse rump that dwarfed her. The cafe smelled of rice, and fish, and vinegar, and of unrecognizable scents of fermented things. She made a little squeaky noise, and stammered “Kyodaina o shiri no akuma,” too awed by him to talk common pony language. Perhaps she was begging his forgiveness, or greeting him in some way? Big Macintosh gulped. “Uhhh… h’lo.” The mare stepped back again, and looked him over, her eyes wide with wonder. She gulped, and said, “Welcome! I… it… welcome!” “Thankee,” rumbled Big Macintosh. “Uhh… nice place y’ got here.” The mare licked her lips. “Cherry BLOSSOMS! If that doesn’t work, nothing will. I can see why she has sent for you.” Big Macintosh blinked. “What’s gonna work? Didja say ‘she’?” “Is your dangura upon the same scale as the rest of you?” asked the mare, stepping closer, fascinated. “My whut? Ah mean, most likely!” said Big Macintosh. “Jes’ a minute. Somepony sent for me?” “To help with our Kirin,” explained the mare. “Happens Ah’m looking for somepony, funny you should mention it. You know where Ah could find,” said Big Macintosh, and gulped, and hoped… “Hina?” “Of course!” cried the mare happily. “I knew it! She has sent for you!” Big Macintosh’s eyes flew wide as saucers. “WHUT?!” “I will bring you to her right away!” Big Macintosh whinnied, and bounced into the air in glee. “YEEHA! Mah love!” The little mare bounced too, beaming huge smiles. “She will feed the Kirin for months this way!” She dashed off, and Big Macintosh thundered in pursuit, shaking the nearby houses. Ponies stared out their windows in alarm, thinking some monster was attacking, and their shock was only increased by the spectacle: a delighted Neighponnese mare, leading a giant stallion whose erection dropped and then flailed around as he ran, barely avoiding being stepped on. Big Macintosh’s whole psyche was fizzing with romance, as he envisioned his Kirin love awaiting him, crying out “Oh, Big Macintosh! Thank goodness you returned to me! I’ve been waiting for simply ever, darling!” There was a slightly larger house, and a door. He screeched to a halt, because smashing down the door might be thought of as rude, and since his helper had pulled up outside the door. He panted, his eyes wild, his mane unkempt. “Eee!” squealed the little mare. “Were I a unicorn, I might squirt just from looking at you!” She peered under his belly, and gulped. “And be very frightened!” “Where is she?” pleaded Big Macintosh. “Here?” “This is the house of Hina!” replied his helper. “Hello?” called a voice from inside. In Big Macintosh’s flustered mind, it seemed like the voice of Rarity, which made sense to him as he’d imagined Hina speaking rather in the manner of his first great love. “Don’t start!” pleaded the little earth pony mare. “I will go fetch the Kirin!” “Whut?” blinked Big Macintosh, but she’d scampered off before he could react, calling out “Daitana! Daitana! Where is he?” “Hello?” called the voice from inside. “Come in!” Big Macintosh, his heart pounding, pushed open the door and stepped inside. If Rarity had been transported suddenly to Neighpon, she could not have lounged any more sumptuously than the elegant, yellow-green unicorn that awaited him. She looked him over, gasped, glanced quickly up to his eyes with an intelligent gaze, then back down to the battering ram this strange, huge horse brought to her. “Well, that’s frightening,” she said. She looked again. “And yet, perhaps possible. Maybe. Curse it, Daitana, I shall ask for some healing magic if this goes awry!” “Ah beg your pardon?” said Big Macintosh. Her eyes ravished him, and she shuddered at the deep rumble of his voice. “Ahnnn. Or not. He is nothing if not thorough!” “Who is?” asked Big Macintosh, confused and beginning to droop. “Daitana,” replied the elegant unicorn. “You are the one for whom he sent?” “Now jes’ a minute,” said Big Macintosh. “Ain’t nopony sent me. I’m lookin’ for somepony and they said she was here. And she ain’t!” “Who, then, do you seek?” asked the reclining unicorn. “Ah’m looking for Hina,” said Big Macintosh, peering into all corners of the room imploringly. The unicorn mare blinked. “But I am Hina,” she replied. Big Macintosh’s jaw dropped. “Aw, horseapples! Um, no offense? But you ain’t the right Hina, ma’am. It’s a Kirin lady I’m lookin’ for.” Her eyes widened. “Hina-RIN!” she exclaimed. “Er… mebbe?” said Big Macintosh, taken aback. Hina made a face. “How vexing! I guess it’s just as well. Then it’s a misunderstanding? Daitana didn’t send you?” “I ain’t never met a Daitana,” said Big Macintosh. “Seems like I remember somepony said she was Hina-rin.” Hina nodded. “Yes! I remember because we share a name. It is like our Daitana-shi. Ah… I should not say that, I should say Daitana-sama, but he is so new here and so aloof, we have taken to calling him Daitana-shi…” “You know where Hina-rin is?” pressed Big Macintosh, urgently. “No!” protested Hina-not-rin. “I am sorry! You need her help? But with an honorific like that, she must be friendly. And perhaps young? I am sure I’ve heard of her, again, because we share a name. I am sure I am very honored, but I don’t know where Hina-rin lives.” Big Macintosh drooped, in every sense. Hina, the unicorn, gave a little whinny of dismay. “I am so sorry! I see your great disappointment. Surely Daitana did not send you, for he would have explained our need. And anyhow he is not here.” She pouted, frustrated. “He is never here, when I am willing. And I am forever willing to welcome him to this, our charming town, and provide him with the energy he needs. It is harder and harder to keep from releasing it, and I am pent up and frustrated.” Big Macintosh backed up a step. “Beggin’ your pardon?” Hina whinnied in outrage. “Not you too? What am I, a dead fish to stallions?” She shook herself. “But no! You are doing us a kindness, making it easier for me to avoid spilling my magic across my ceiling and walls. And probably burning my house down,” she added. Big Macintosh frowned. “Ah don’t mean to offend y’all. I am mighty confused. So, what did you think was fixin’ to happen here?” Hina, the unicorn, sighed. “Our Kirin, Daitana-shi, is odd. He is quite new to our town, and though he claims to be happy here, we cannot feed him. It is said that he’s so low on magic that he could not make love to a unicorn mare and be restored to health. It’s said this shames him, that he would not drink from the fount of our willing horns if he cannot deliver the highest of ecstacies inside us.” “Huh,” said Big Macintosh. “Nice fella?” Hina snorted. “Foolish Daitana-shi! I personally have allowed myself to become so pent up, he might only breathe upon my ravishing vagina and perhaps lick my nipples and I would fountain forth magic in great quantity for him to feast on! It is insulting that he scorns our bounty!” Big Macintosh blinked. This unicorn seemed to resemble Rarity in more ways than one: her opinion of her beauty was also bountiful. Perhaps this Daitana kirin simply didn’t like her arrogance? Hina sighed again. “He begged off, Mister Huge Horse. He suggested that he might find some wonderful lover, and on some other day, he would drink my magic while another lover brought me to glorious orgasm… since he could not do it justice, as low in power as he was.” She snorted. “Again, foolish Daitana-shi. I could feed five Kirin with my horn, and he turns his nose up at it.” “That’s a thing?” asked Big Macintosh. “What do you mean?” “Is it a thing?” asked Big Macintosh. “This gittin’ another pony to help. Feedin’ a Kirin by ballin’ the unicorn for her. That’s a thing?” Hina frowned. “Not especially. It should not be necessary. It would work. You wish such a task? Daitana is not here, so you should not start with me.” “No, no!” said Big Macintosh. “I mean when I find my Hina. Er, Hina-rin. Do you mean Ah could feed her full of magic just by fuckin’ a unicorn just right?” Hina-not-rin made a face. “I suppose. From what I saw of you, it would either be hugely effective, or you would hurt her and require the Kirin’s healing powers. Some mares could stand it, I suppose.” Her eyes grew brooding, sultry. “I’m not sure I’m not one of them. With all this withholding, I could take a dragon, or one of the pink demons, and still orgasm. Perhaps you had better go, or I will waste our gift for our Kirin despite my best intentions. And be injured by you, making it even less proper.” Big Macintosh looked offended. “Ma’am, Ah am a gentle-pony. I ain’t damaged no mare yet. Ah’m a proper stud-pony, I am, good enough for a Princess. Heck, even some stallions!” He winced, remembering. He blinked. “Wait a minute. What pink demons?” She ignored this. “Our Kirin is not here. And I am still not convinced your penis is safe… and everything about this situation is not proper! If Daitana did not send you, who did? Why do you seek a Kirin, when you seem well? Why do you flirt, knowing my issue must be saved for our Kirin?” “Whaddya mean, Ah’m flirtin’?” demanded Big Macintosh. “I told you the truth! Ah know what I am!” “Yeah… IN TROUBLE!” came a wry voice from the doorway. Vinyl Scratch and Octavia were looking in at him. Octavia was frowning, and Scratch was smiling, but not with her eyes. “Oh, horseapples twice,” moaned Big Macintosh. “We’re almost ready to play,” said Scratch. “Leave the groupies for AFTER the gig, okay? You need to come and lift some speaker cabinets, right now!” “Ah’m sorry! Ah’m sorry!” protested Big Macintosh, and turned to go, as Octavia and Vinyl Scratch were already racing back to their improvised stage. “Huge horse!” called Hina, the unicorn. Big Macintosh’s ear turned. “Eyup?” “She is probably in the capital,” said Hina. “Good luck, strange huge horse. Head north.” He blinked. “Thankee.” “Go and lift your speakers!” ordered Hina. “Perhaps I will come and listen to your music.” “Eyup,” replied Big Macintosh, and off he ran. As the musicians and their roadie galloped to the eastern outskirts of town, gentle hoofsteps were heard at the outskirts of town to the west. She appeared, walking out of a leafy bower as if her presence bestowed upon it a blessing. She smiled, not at anypony, just for sheer love of existence and the beautiful things she shared… and that were shared with her. Not a Kirin. Just an earth pony. Only an earth pony. Simple, grey, with green eyes and sandy mane and tail… …but radiant. She was Kichona, and she walked dreamily as if the ground wasn’t quite real. And she looked fondly to the east, hearing the first strains of music, recognizing that the wandering minstrels were preparing to play, and she vowed to go and enjoy their art. She looked behind her, to the west, and the leafy bower, with even more fondness. She’d enjoyed his art every bit as much. More, perhaps. Kichona looked faintly smug… but also, proud. Her body felt like jelly, and he hadn’t used any of his magic, not the tiniest amount. Of course, she was not a unicorn. Some might think it unfitting that the town’s new Kirin should worship a simple earth pony mare, should bring her to endless, gloriously exhausting orgasm with just his cock… and his caresses… and his kisses, in fact all the evidence of his wild, passionate emotion. Kichona politely did not agree. In her deepest heart, she held an iconoclastic thought: her lover, the Kirin Daitana, was completely free. There was no duty he did not willingly accept, and everyone knew the Kirin were pledged to Neighponnese ponykind. Well… If he chose to pledge his life and his love to just one little Neighponnese mare, he had a perfect right to, thought Kichona defiantly… or, at least, with whatever serene defiance she had, to be defiant with. It was difficult to be defiant when one quivered as one walked. No, there was no defiance. How could there be? There was only love, their most perfect love, and every time she saw him she melted away completely, surrendered to everything he was. How could she not? And, miraculously, gratefully, her feelings were returned. Hers was not to question why this great difference had happened. Hers was to appreciate it, in fullness, and this she had been doing in the leafy bower for hours on end. Of course, that wasn’t the only way of love: far from it, he expected many other things besides, and she celebrated many other things about him. But oh, his lovemaking was exquisite, even without magic enhancements. Kichona blinked. What was that noise? Was it he, rushing to be with her again? But he moved with such dignity, never such a heedless gallop. Admittedly, he stuck to the ground ever since he stopped drinking unicorn magic. He’d been uncomfortable with that intimacy, he said, and when he fell in love with earth pony Kichona he’d cut it right out and began to walk like a normal pony, and not on clouds. It seemed responsible, after all if he would not be fed magic in that manner then he’d want to save it for important things. But this hurry of hooves couldn’t be her Daitana, surely? It was not. It was Suzume, silly young Suzume. He’d heard the music, and he was racing out of the woods to beat her to the minstrels’ concert. Toward the… Kichona squealed, “Not there! The holes!” Too late. As Suzume galloped heedlessly into town, not looking where he was going, he cleared a ridge on the way out of the leafy bower, soaring into the air for a moment and coming down with a thump of hind legs and boldly extended front legs. And, before he could think or react, the hole, the dreadful residue of the giant Neighponnese burrowing moles, was right there waiting for his terrible mistake… Suzume went down, with a scream. His foreleg had snapped. Without an instant’s hesitation, Kichona charged to his aid. “Oh, Suzume! No, don’t thrash, be calm, we will find help! Daitana! Daitana!” They were quite far from the village, still. In the distance, ponies could be seen heading still further out of sight: silent tiny figures, trotting to the music performance. Kichona could somehow hear faint strains of the music, even though it seemed to be a stringed instrument. How could it resonate so fully, and be heard from so far away? “Lie still!” ordered Kichona. “I will go to the town, and bring back a…” Suzume squealed, “No!” Kichona blinked. “What?” The colt’s teeth chattered, and he sweated. He gulped, and he begged, “I am dying. Don’t leave me!” Kichona’s ears splayed in frustration, but then she bowed her head. “Minu ga hana,” she said softly, and then she carefully hugged the terrified colt. “No you’re not. It is not true, you’ll be fine! But I will stay with you, dear Suzume. I can find help from where we lay.” She drew a deep breath. “Daitana!” she shouted, once more. “Hear me!” In the distance, the half-heard, beautiful strains of the minstrel’s cello mingled with the sobs of the agonized colt. He began to froth at the mouth. “Breathe, Suzume!” urged Kichona. “Not in that hasty way!” She hugged him again. “Oh, please, calm yourself! Help is coming! DAITANA!” Where was he? He’d spoken of exploring the forest, finding rare plants or fungi that bore trace elements of magic to consume. How far could he have gone, pursuing such things? No more tiny figures could be seen. They’d all gone to the music performance. “DAITANA!” cried Kichona. And then… there he was. Appearing from between the trees, on the far side of the leafy bower. Looking her direction, as she frantically waved him down. Galloping with graceful speed and elegance to join them, his huge deep eyes warm with concern, his bearing speaking of caution and awareness, slowing as he approached the mole-holes. “Kichona!” he cried. “What has happened here?” She looked imploringly at him. No answer was needed, as she cuddled the sobbing colt’s head, staying well clear of his dismayingly crooked foreleg. Daitana paled, taking in the situation. “But…” “We must take him to the pony doctor!” insisted Kichona. Daitana brightened. “Oh, of course! We will take him to the pony doctor right away!” Suzume’s lip quivered. “But…” he whimpered, and looked pointedly at the Kirin’s very un-sparkly horn. Daitana winced. “My power is weak,” he admitted. “I’m young, and perhaps foolish…” “Oh pooh,” said Kichona loyally. “Suzume, we can help you like ponies of old once did. Don’t look at my Daitana so helplessly! Let’s get you to the doctor. We will all work together to make you well.” “Right away?” said the colt, lip quivering. Kichona pouted. “We’ll get you to the doctor right away. Do Kirin exist only to fix your foolishness?” “Oh, Kichona,” sighed Daitana. “Well, it’s true!” protested Kichona. “This colt came heedlessly running, in the belief that the town’s Kirin would fix up any distress, even distress for no good reason!” Then, she hushed, as her Kirin’s cloven hoof gently touched her lips. “Do we distinguish this now? Call some distress good? Scorn other distress as bad?” It didn’t convince his Kichona. “And if they do not care for themselves? Or each other?” Suzume didn’t follow the implications of the discussion. Not for him, concerns of morality, or questions about self-reliance and the abuse of protectors versus the benefits of security as an accepted, felt reality of whatever cost. Suzume wasn’t inclined to debate. Suzume was still a very little colt, and his leg hurt with terrifying intensity, and the grownup and Kirin seemed to have forgotten him. “Waahhhhh!” Daitana and Kichona exchanged one glance. “Lift him onto my back!” said Kichona. “Keep that hoof clear. To the pony doctor!” “If she is watching the show…” began Daitana. “Fetch her!” urged Kichona. Suzume didn’t notice how their town’s new Kirin barely used any magic… he was distracted with his woe, as Kichona and Daitana jockeyed him onto her back. Daitana’s horn did light, but its energies were focussed on the colt’s sad injured leg, exerting some soothing power while it could. “Go…” Kichona nodded, before he’d even finished. “Slowly, of course, my love. I’ll do my best. You go quickly, and fetch the doctor!” He galloped off once more, cloven hooves pounding the grass. Kichona began to walk, but Suzume whimpered piteously. Hearing this, the earth pony mare slowed, and slowed further, until she was drifting forward with a dreamlike smoothness. Step by calm, meditative step, she headed for town and the doctor’s office. By the time they arrived at the doctor’s office, night had come. Suzume, on Kichona’s back, had fallen asleep after a lot of crying. She’d sung soothing lullabies to help him forget his pain, though she sang very quietly: she still wanted to hear the concert, for the music had seemed all the more beautiful and passionate as she gradually approached it. It had turned to an exciting, compelling thumping, and she could see ponies dancing wildly in the distance, and she wondered what was keeping Daitana. Surely he could not have abandoned his purpose and gone out dancing? He had not. Kichona saw him walking up the street. He had Dittsui, the doctor, by the ear. Though he wasn’t quite dragging her by it, all the same it seemed like he was prepared to, if he deemed it necessary. “Ow, quit it!” protested Dittsui. “I expect a thorough healing of my poor ear, and what could you possibly need me for anyway? We have a Kirin and that’s you and let me go back and dance some more!” Kichona giggled. “Dittsui-san!” she called. “Be good!” “Kichona! You should be able to talk to this crazy Kir… good heavens, is that Suzume?” Daitana released her, and Dittsui trotted up, complaints forgotten, to study the sleeping colt. Her horn lit, inquisitively. “That’s a bad break,” she said, and turned to Daitana. “Heal it!” The Kirin blushed. “We will use classic methods…” “What for?” blinked Dittsui. “We have you!” “He must heal naturally,” said Daitana. “I am still too weak.” “How? Hina’s been going around telling us she’s going to pump you full of so much magic you’ll pop!” Daitana winced. “It would not be right… to have such a thing. You assume… I mean… what if I said I had never fed that way?” Dittsui cheered. “What an honor!” “What do you mean, an honor?” protested Kichona. At that, Dittsui gulped. “Oops. I am sorry, Daitana-sama. We don’t talk of this before the earth ponies and foals.” Kichona bridled. “And which am I, Dittsui? I think I know what you mean.” “Oh, all right then,” said Dittsui. She turned to Daitana again. “You don’t think you can get her off without some magic in the tank? See here, I’ll send for Hina right away and personally lick her to orgasm while you wait! Then she can do me, though I’m afraid my boyfriend is sooooo good I can’t save it up like Hina can…” “No, no!” protested Daitana, who’d blanched and looked helplessly at his beloved Kichona. “None of that,” said Kichona. “What if he doesn’t want to? We’ll do classic methods, you must know them.” Daitana gulped. “Mostly classic methods,” he said. He dared not argue with Dittsui further. Every word filled him with guilt, but in the presence of his Kichona he could not bear the notion of guzzling magic from the town’s vain, self-centered councillor: a governance position that seemed inevitably held by the… juiciest unicorns Neighpon had to offer. They, the Kirin, had struggled so hard to rein in the fiercest and greediest ponies, and somehow it persisted: Neighponnese ponies could turn even generosity into a kink, could turn even the willing venting of their power into a way to be superior. He’d seen Hina. She’d drooled (though, admittedly, cutely) and could not stop staring at his mouth. She’d begun to wriggle, and dribbles of magic leaked from her horn. He’d never met her, but all the same his magic unerringly sensed the tone of her thoughts, and he recoiled. Hina had been nearly overcome with pride. She saw herself as part of a system to sustain him, and she knew that between her magical juiciness and her devotion to her purpose, she’d bring the town the most magically-potent Kirin for miles around. No other unicorn could rival her, and nothing else equine even entered the equation. She would be his constant companion, and his greatest supply, almost like an extension of him. The traces of scorn in her thinking dismayed him. The glee in her own bounty disturbed him: Hina assumed he’d gravitate to her as the most powerful, and rejoiced in the idea, acting like he would immediately begin suckling on her horn while screwing her senseless. The way she’d become angry at him when he made excuses and fled? That horrified him. He was so new to that type of nourishment! Other Kirin had fed him until so recently. The first unicorn he’d fed from had been so shy and nice. So humble! The other Kirin, a female, had licked her and used magic to stimulate her, and she’d blushed so cutely, and her horngasm was delicious but not overwhelming. Still, it had filled him with a power he’d never imagined. The next one had been a male unicorn he’d met on the road, and that one had clopped off for him, insisting on the honor of sustaining a journeying Kirin. He’d been a traveling silk merchant and apologized that his power was not as great as his wealth. It was such a… piquant contrast between that unicorn stallion’s comfort and opulence, and the deep humility he felt about his magical capabilities. And now, this? Daitana knew the townsponies would not accept him leaving this colt injured. He wished no such fate for the unfortunate foal. But the idea of guzzling from vain Hina’s horn, while his beloved looked on and Hina sneered at her for the earth pony she was… no! So, his horn lit, and he strained to extract the final, hoarded scraps of his magical energy, and he reached out with a flickering tendril of thaumic force. “You know,” said Dittsui, “I have lubricating salves in the office, right? If a physical connection will help I’m almost sure I can fit some of you up his anus.” Daitana shuddered. Neighponnese unicorns could be horrifyingly practical about use of their Kirin. “Nay,” he replied, and concentrated. Inside the colt’s leg, bones shifted and merged. His eyes flew open in shock, but then Daitana had soothed the nerves and removed all pain, which itself consumed further magic. Every tiny aspect of healing demanded more magic, and he sweated as he forced himself onward… It stopped. Suzume chirped, “YAY!” and leapt off Kichona’s back, to be caught physically by a frantic Kirin. “He must use a cast!” begged Daitana. “What?” blinked the doctor, Dittsui. “A cast,” insisted Daitana, “a splint. He will heal, but must not jump around for a while. Please!” Dittsui regarded him in puzzlement. “You aren’t very good, are you? Is it okay if we get another Kirin? We’ve got really good unicorns here, we ought to be able to have much better Kirins than you. No offense meant.” Daitana interposed himself between his lover and the doctor. “Oh, certainly, none taken! Just do the splint, okay? I don’t want him to hurt himself.” “You don’t even talk like a Kirin,” complained Dittsui. “Can you, like, get repaired by other Kirin or something? It’s weird.” Daitana gulped, and took a deep breath. “We appreciate… your capable help and splint… which you’ll do now, please?” “Oh, sure, I totally will. I was just saying you’re not much of a Kirin,” replied Dittsui. “Of course I’ll do my part. And you should go and find a unicorn and get recharged. What, does Hina scare you? We really should get a bigger Kirin for this town. If you can’t drink from Hina it’s going to be a problem, she’ll only get more pent up. She’s, like, totally committed to feeding you so if you can’t take it, we’re gonna need a Kirin who can.” His eyes were distraught. Behind him, Kichona’s eyes seethed, but rather than lash out, she lowered her head and took a breath to calm herself. “Thank you, Dittsui,” she said courteously. “We appreciate your—your honesty. Suzume, don’t jump about, Dittsui will fasten a thing to your leg to help it heal and strengthen.” “Awwww!” whined the colt. “That’s right!” said Dittsui. “It won’t hurt. It’s for helping keep your leg straight, ponies in olden days did that!” She winked at him. “If you’re good, maybe we’ll have another Kirin come and do it all at once for you, won’t that be nice?” “Yay!” “And you should be grateful,” scolded the doctor. “We’re going to have Kirin so powerful that they won’t have to do uncomfortable things to get a better connection into you. And you should be grateful for this Kirin, too! He’s set and knitted your bones and taken away the pain, say thank you!” “Thank you,” repeated Suzume, dutifully. He frowned. “What do you mean, uncomfortable things?” “Special Kirin things that you earth ponies shouldn’t have to know about,” explained Dittsui, “now walk gently this way, soon I’ll have you trotting in safety…” As they walked into the doctor’s office, they didn’t even glance at how Kichona was leading their balky Kirin away. “I’m no good!” sobbed Daitana. “I am a mere foal, useless!” Kichona hugged him fiercely. “No you’re not! Calm down. Everything will be all right, I promise.” They’d ducked behind a house, out of sight from the townsponies, before Daitana had burst into tears. “They only want to use me, and I can’t even do that!” Kichona frowned, and nuzzled her despairing lover. “They are just ponies, like me, Daitana. Forgive them. What can we do, to work through all this?” Then, she gasped. Daitana’s head had lifted and his eyes transfixed hers. “Not like you,” he said. “There is nothing like you.” “Oh, Daitana,” she said, and hugged him tighter. “I’m fine. It’s you I care about, now.” “What if I can’t drink from this Hina?” he asked. Kichona made a face. “I could stand her smugness. Are you afraid she will choke you? You told me about these unicorns. You said your first ones were not so overwhelming.” Daitana’s expression was woeful. “You should not have to stand that…” “It’s all right,” said Kichona winsomely. “I’m only an earth pony mare.” “No!” insisted Daitana. “You’re not. You have the most beautiful soul, Kichona. Your face, your body, are incomparable. You are all ponies, and th… the only…” He trailed off, shocked at what he was saying. Kichona’s eyes shone. “Daitana? I love you, of course. I know Kirin are said to love all ponies, though of course unicorns are just more important, and now I know why that is. You told me, and silly Dittsui knows all about it, and I can’t give you that.” Daitana’s mouth opened, and Kichona’s hoof gently touched his lips, silencing his protests. “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked. “Be honest.” Daitana gulped. “I don’t love all ponies…” Kichona’s eyes narrowed, indulgently. “Silly. Yes, you do. It’s obvious. Daitana. What are you trying to tell ME?” He sank into those loving emerald eyes, and his heart spoke. “I love you, Kichona. Stay with me. Marry me.” A pause, then… “Don’t stop loving other ponies. Don’t stop loving ponykind, Daitana.” He gasped. “Who among them? Who among them would respond so graciously?” “I mean it!” protested Kichona, tearing up. “I don’t want you to change! Some things are important!” He began to trot with glee. “Who among them would see my deepest heart? Who else could be given the very soul of a Kirin, all to herself, and respond, no, this must be shared?” “Daitana, promise! I couldn’t bear it if we just pleasured each other and gave no help! Promise you’ll not turn away from the other ponies!” “You said ‘we’!” crowed Daitana. Kichona pouted, and stamped a hoof, quieting him. She gave him a hard stare through brimming, tearful eyes. “Yes, I will marry you and be your special pony, even though you belong to all Neighpon,” she said. “Yay!” “And then we’re going to be a Kirin TOGETHER!” insisted Kichona. He blinked. “Of course!” “Not of course,” retorted Kichona, wiping tears of joy with the back of her hoof, and sniffling. “I’ve loved the way you treat me. I could tell this was happening. Daitana, I have to step up! You’re young, you’re learning. You see the faults in silly ponies and it puts you off. I’ve got to teach you to love!” Daitana moved closer, smiling, pressing his body against hers, feeling her heart pound with emotion. “And who among them,” he asked gently, “could do that as faithfully as you?” “Oh!” sobbed Kichona, and then they were wrapped in a mad, clinging embrace: his Kirin body tingling against hers, her mare body warm and solid next to him. Eventually, their hearts slowed, and nuzzles gave way to quiet words. “What will we even do, Daitana?” she asked. “Please don’t ask me to be intimate with that Hina unicorn?” said Daitana imploringly. “You say you could stand her smugness. Yet how could I? I just can’t do it.” “I wouldn’t like it,” admitted Kichona. “She thinks she’s better than earth ponies. She thinks she’s better than me. That makes me sad, though I don’t want to punish her for it.” “They don’t like me,” said Daitana. “They think I’m not much of a Kirin.” “They’re wrong,” said Kichona with a kiss. She frowned. “We must work out how to get you magic, though.” “Must we?” “Maybe not from here,” said Kichona. “Maybe not right now? Another Kirin will come here, and Hina will have a wonderful time.” “She will,” grumbled Daitana. “I’d rather not see it. I still find all that distasteful and strange, and when you add her greed and scorn, there is nothing of that world that I want.” “Maybe you will get used to it?” “There must be some other way,” brooded Daitana. “My searches of the forests yielded nothing that would serve me. Perhaps we can search elsewhere?” “Will we go?” asked Kichona. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a preference, my love?” She thought. She glanced east. “Those musicians! We didn’t see their performance, and it sounded lovely. Let’s go and ask them where they’ll play next!” And with that, the two cantered off to the outskirts of town… …where they found nothing. The stage, the cart, the musicians: all were gone as if they’d never existed. Kichona pouted, tearful again. “Oh, crud! They’ve already gone, and the music was so pretty and fun, and now how will we find them?” Daitana was trotting to and fro, inspecting the ground. “So much grass trampled! And I cannot heal it. That colt’s leg took everything I had.” “But your mind,” corrected Kichona. “And heart,” she added. “And are you looking for musician tracks?” Daitana snorted in amusement. “Musician scats? Do you think they poop musical notes?” A different voice cut in. “The big ‘un would leave different poops, hehe!” It was a little old town-stallion, grinning toothlessly at them. He added, “Never saw a pony so huge! That was somethin’! All the mares, they couldn’t look away!” “Big one?” asked Daitana. “There’s a way to track them?” “Hello, Zaidan,” said Kichona. “You are well?” The old pony nodded. “I am, thank you, Kichona.” He looked at them again, shrewdly. “You’re moving on, hmm?” “Why do you say that?” shot Daitana, while Kichona said, “Yes.” They glanced embarrassedly at each other. “I didn’t think you’d be staying,” said the little old stallion to the Kirin. “You didn’t match this town. But… it seems something in this town still matched you!” Kichona just smiled. Daitana said, “Did you say there was a big musician? And we could track him? By his…” The oldster cackled. “Had you going, there! No, that’s not so different, but all the same, I heard your sweet lady ask how you’d find them again.” Daitana frowned, uncomfortable at how this aged earth pony seemed to see right through him. He gathered his Kirin formality. “Sir! Elder horse. Please come to our aid? We did not hear the music. Please tell us where all the musicians have gone.” The old pony stallion nodded in satisfaction. “Nice! That’s polite. Well, they weren’t all musicians. The big ‘un, he was for liftin’ boxes and things. I think they call it road crew? He was in a fearful hurry. The other two, they were starting to mingle with the crowd, and the big fellow is just packing everything up like about ten of the pink demons all stuck together. Didn’t seem possible.” “But where did they go?” pleaded Daitana. “I can’t tell you that, not exactly,” said the old pony. “But I can tell you this: the two musicians, the grey one and the little unicorn with the glasses, they didn’t understand what he was doing. And he pulled them out of the crowd and herded them onto the cart like they were just some more boxes, and off they went. And the grey one asked, “But why must we leave, can’t we stay the night?” and the unicorn answered, “Beats me. But we were going to head north anyway…” Daitana and Kichona stared at him, waiting. The old pony shrugged. “That’s what they said. So… I don’t know how you’ll find them. But I’ve narrowed down where you might look.” Daitana and Kichona looked at each other. She smiled. He shrugged. As one, they began to trot down the path… heading north. High Seas“So,” said Applejack, “this is the low dive of a tavern, eh?” Uni blinked in puzzlement. “I do not understand?” “Ah mean, the one with sailors,” explained Applejack. “Real sailors. Rowdy dirty sailor ponies, know what I mean?” It didn’t appear that the Neighponnese earth pony, wife to Mugennokaijitsu the rare foods trader, knew what she meant. “This is the tavern,” she explained. “I will wait outside. Go ahead and drink. It is near the harbor, is that not low? It is not on a hill, yes?” “Uhh, true enough…” said Applejack. “It does not dive,” said Uni. “It might fall over, does that help? I will stay outside so it does not fall over.” “Uhh, thanks?” said Applejack. Uni bowed her head. “For my honorable guest, it is not too much to ask.” Applejack left the little Neighponnese cutie standing quietly outside the tavern, and approached the doors. It did seem just a little like a low dive, at least those she was acquainted with: she wasn’t sure what a low dive looked like in Neighpon, but she’d seen many nasty sailor bars plus the taverns of Appleloosa, and she took heart and trotted forward, kicking the doors open with a bang. They remained attached: she’d used forehooves. “Hi!” said Applejack, boldly. Heads turned, eyes focussed on her and took her measure. That was good, a good sign, and she welcomed it. Some of the eyes didn’t focus. Also, the number of eyes wasn’t exactly the same as the number of heads times two. Applejack smiled. That was an even better sign. “Mornin’, gentlemen,” said Applejack quietly. Her eyes narrowed just a touch, as she watched for a reaction. Somewhere in the gloom, a sailor pony laughed a not-very-nice laugh. Nopony moved. In front, a fierce-looking pegasus with a twisted wingtip pursed his lips and spat on the floor, directly in front of her. Applejack’s smile narrowed, too. The signs just kept getting better and better… She walked forward, past a table, studying the bar and seeing that there’d been a mirror along the back, but it had been smashed. Only fragments, stuck in the frame, remained. That’d save time. Before anypony could react, Applejack had banged the table with a forehoof. Three beer mugs arced into the air, and she whirled and kicked with just Bucky for swank and so she could say, “The other leg’s even quicker, gents”. One, two, three beer mugs creased the ears of the bar-ponies and exploded against the wall behind them. “Any questions?” asked Applejack, cheerfully. “Now, I…” She trailed off, eyes narrowing. At least one question would be asked with hooves and not words. Though most ponies didn’t betray a reaction (another good omen), one in the back was getting up. And up, and up… He was a huge earth pony on the scale of Big Macintosh, his eyes were crossed with drink and red with rage, and as some other ponies tactfully ducked aside, he bellowed like a bull and he charged at Applejack, headlong. Her smile didn’t waver… and she whirled again, and planted a rear hoof right in the center of his forehead. He dropped, out cold. “Any other questions?” she asked. The ponies looked at each other. “Yeah, what’ll you have?” And with that, they were crowding around her, laughing, slapping her back in congratulation. “Over here!” one cried. “Quick, before he wakes up!” “You fixin’ to hide me?” asked Applejack. “Cos that ain’t happenin’. Ah got a whole other leg, y’know.” “No, no!” protested the pegasus with the twisted wing. “That’s Bucket. You know, big like bucket, useful like bucket, sturdy like bucket, smart like bucket? He’s already forgotten who you are, so if you're sitting with us when he wakes up, he’ll assume you’re our friend.” “Huh,” said Applejack, joining them. “Am I?” The pegasus grinned. “Hell yeah! That was great. Makes me sorry I busted the mirror yesterday.” “Makes me sorry I didn’t use my magic to fix it again!” said one of the one-eyed unicorns. “So it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said the pegasus. “They call me Twirly. This lazy fucker is One-Eye, and this is The-Other-Eye. You already met Bucket. This fellow’s Tripod, you can see his leg’s still attached but it’s an interestin’ shape now. Over there is Bean Soup…” Applejack looked, and a toothless pegasus mare grinned gummily at her. “And there’s Flinchy and Crooked-Horn and Wall-Eye…” “Pleased ta meet y’all,” said Applejack. “Twirly, huh? How come you’re called Twirly?” One-Eye spoke up. “He can still fly! And fight! Twirly never gives up. He just has to fly in a different sort of way now. Looks kind of like crashing in about five directions at once. When he gets his hooves going as well, strong pirates run screaming just to see him coming.” “Ah!” said Applejack approvingly. “You’re workin’ sailors!” “Some kinds of working,” winked One-Eye. Applejack wondered for a moment how she knew it was a wink, with him, but everything about the seedy unicorn was insinuating and suggestive, and of course he could only wink, and leer. “Business before pleasure?” suggested Applejack. “Seems you ain’t amiss to a lil’ pleasure. Hmm? You that sort?” Tripod chimed in. “Don’t let it fool you, ma’am. We might be a scurvy crew, but don’t underestimate us. One-Eye and The-Other-Eye climb masts together. They link their magic, and both get a-lookin’, and there ain’t nopony who can judge distances better. Them’s navigators!” “Do a lot of fightin’, do you?” asked Applejack. “Quarrelsome? Did Twirly there tangle with ol’ Bucket on one dark night?” “Not him,” said Twirly. Bucket twitched, and rumbled a curse, grabbing his head with his hooves. He got up, and returned to his seat, and just as promised didn’t even blink to see Applejack sitting there among them. “We’re the best pi… er, sailors, you’re ever gonna meet,” boasted Twirly. “There’s nopony on Neighpon’s seas that will stand against us.” “Even when they bust you up and poke your eyes out and break your leg into interestin’ shapes?” asked Applejack. “Not them,” said The-Other-Eye. “There’s no pirate crew out there who can lay a hoof on us, we’re so tough and mean.” Applejack beamed at them. “Good! I’ll take ya. You see, I need a crew to help me take my boat back to Manehattan. I reckon what you do there after I leave ya, is your affair.” “Oh, yeah?” said Twirly. “And who are you? You’re quick with your hooves, but what makes you captain?” Applejack’s grin got three shades wickeder. “Ah’m Applejack,” she said, “but you might just have heard of me… as the D…” She stopped. Every single pony in the bar had frozen in terror, not even breathing. Total panic. “Ah ain’t even TOLD you yet,” said Applejack. There was a faint noise behind her. Applejack turned, and Uni was standing there. The cute little earth pony mare was impassive, showing no expression. She addressed Applejack, not even looking at the others. “Why did you say crew?” she asked, quietly. “Well, I got to pick out a proper crew to get back home with the ship, sugarcube…” Uni abruptly scuffed a hoof on the floor, making a loud scraping noise. Every single other pony in the tavern except for Applejack went from frozen, to pressed up against the far wall in a big pile of scared pony, with seemingly no time in between. Applejack’s jaw dropped. “I am your crew,” said Uni. Against the wall, all the pirate sailors frantically nodded in agreement. Uni nodded, once, and turned to leave. Applejack watched her go, dumbfounded. “Well, don’t that beat all…” “Why didn’t you tell us?” whispered One-Eye, one-wild-eyed. “Yeah, what do you need US for?” gasped Twirly, shivering. “Give a horse some warning next time, will you?” complained Tripod. “Back to getting drunk!” grumbled The-Other-Eye, morosely. Applejack stared at them, in disbelief. Pirates that were so battle-tested, but gave up so easily, were outside her experience. “Well, jes’ a minute here,” she said. “Do you mean that lil’ thing is a good sailor?” Twirly looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “A good sailor?” Tripod, too, seemed stunned. “A GOOD sailor?” There was a snigger. Then, a chuckle. The pirates began laughing, as Applejack stood there, speechless. The laughter built, with an edge of hysteria, until it rocked the tavern… Silence. Applejack turned. There it was: Uni’s little impassive, expressionless face in the doorway. As Applejack watched, Uni gave a little smile, and a nod. And then she was gone, her sensibilities satisfied. “Dang,” said Applejack and took off her hat. “Well… have fun drinkin’, gents. I guess I got me a crew already.” She trotted out the door, calling, “Hey, Uni! What’re we doin’ for provisions? I done left you all my apple turnip cakes!” Time passed. “One-Eye?” said Twirly. “Yeah?” “Can you see out the window from there?” “Yeah?” “Just tell us when the ship is gone…” “Away we go!” called Applejack as she cast off. She flicked her tail ebulliently, still feeling tingly. That Kirin fellow had fixed her up good! She felt fertile as anything, incredibly feminine, and couldn’t wait to bed Dash and get herself pregnant. All that time mothering Northern Spy, all that effort and magical trickery just to do things like nursing, and still she hadn’t been able to do the real thing! For all that she felt so feminine, there was still a cocky self-confidence in Applejack’s bearing. In her estimation, foaling weren’t nothing she couldn’t manage. She had Granny, and Dashie’d learned a lot about it when it was her time, and Applejack saw no incongruity in being both feminine, and tough as barn nails. And it seemed she wasn’t the only one on the boat who could say that. The shore slowly receded, leaving Applejack and Uni alone in a bright, empty ocean. Applejack walked over, and sat with Uni. Uni had brought a little mat, and sat on it with her legs crossed in a funny way and her forehooves turned up, resting on her legs. It seemed a comfortable position to rest in. Her body calmly adjusted for the gentle tilting of the yacht in the waves, and her eyes were nearly shut. “All right,” said Applejack, “what’s th’ deal?” Serenely, Uni’s eyes opened and focussed on her traveling companion. “I will travel to your Ponyville, and negotiate with your Diamond Tiara, if possible for an exclusive license to the wonderful Apple Turnip Cakes…” “Oh, no,” said Applejack. “No, no. Din’t mean that. What’s the deal with them sailor-ponies, Miss Uni?” Uni’s face had fallen at Applejack’s first reaction, but she brightened as she understood. “All are good ponies,” she said. “Our town of Kabochaebi is peaceful and calm, and all the sailor-ponies are good and kind.” “So good an’ kind they smash mirrors in their bar?” “They did not smash the mirror,” said Uni. She considered this, and added, “They did not intend to smash any mirrors. Forgive them their small errors.” “And what small errors might that be?” pressed Applejack. Uni paused, thinking. “Unicorns cannot fly.” She smiled, apparently expecting her remark to be enlightening. Applejack snorted, grinning. “A lot you know. Back home, our unicorns get up to all kinds of stuff, and I wouldn’t put it past them. Are you sure that’s what you want to say, Miss Uni?” Uni considered this, still with that preternatural calm. “Unicorns cannot fly well,” she amended. “Meanin’ that you can get ‘em airborne,” suggested Applejack, “but they ain’t much for steering? Sounds a bit like my Rainbow, to be honest.” Uni nodded. “Forgive them their errors. They are good and kind ponies at heart.” “Takes a little convincing?” suggested Applejack, her ears perking up. “To stop them from flyin’?” Uni frowned, and weighed her words carefully. “They don’t fly by themselves. They’re all good ponies…” Applejack leaned in, with a stare like her mother Applesauce. “Jes’ us two here, and the big ol’ ocean. It don’t tell no tales and neither do I, less’n I want to. And I don’t want to, unless I’m treated like I’m a dern fool… so, little miss Uni, answer me this. What makes the unicorns fly?” The ocean was patient. It’d heard a lot of silence. Applejack was less patient, but had a suspicion that this little mare couldn’t be bullied in any sense. However, Applejack also had a secret. She was the Dread Pirate Booties (or one of them: perhaps one of the best and fiercest there’d ever been) and she sensed a counterpart across from her. A proud, capable counterpart who’d not faced a rival worthy of her dainty hooves. But Applejack didn’t propose to be a rival. ‘Friend’ seemed like a worthwhile goal. And friendship didn’t grow out of nothing: it sprang from small honesties and little moments of trust. And so, she stared but not unkindly, and she waited, and her little halfsmile was much like the one Uni had offered the pirates of Kabochaebi. As if to say: I know you, and you know that I know… Uni coughed, a little. She looked down, abashed. She looked up, and a tiger was in her gaze, just for a moment, yet Applejack didn’t flinch. Uni looked down again, even more chagrined. It seemed she had not meant a gaze with such ferocity. It gave her away. What makes the unicorns fly? Uni answered it, pouting and chastened and cranky at her own admission. “I do,” she said. “Thought so,” said Applejack with a big smile. “You’re a stubborn one! Don’t you know sailors like that need the occasional bucking to set ‘em right? Ah don’t see why you’re so bashful about it. It’s written all over you, soon’s I saw you walkin’ into that room. It’s written all over them, too. Prob’ly in hoof-prints. Is that how you do it? I confess I find it hard to imagine you whuppin’ some of them ponies, they’re twice your size.” “Three,” corrected Uni. “Beg pardon?” “Three times my size,” said Uni calmly. “It does not matter. I am the Kabochaebi, and they will not stand against me.” “I thought your town was Kabochaebi!” said Applejack. The little halfsmile was back. “It is my town,” said Uni. “Why am I telling you this? I am not threatening you. I promise, I am not.” “I bet I know!” “What do you bet?” replied Uni quickly. “More apple turnip cakes?” “No, I mean it’s jes’ a manner of speaking. I do think I know why you fessed up,” said Applejack. “Ah was about to tell… heh… dare I say it, your crew?” Uni frowned, thinking. “Fess… confess? I confess nothing. There is nothing to be concerned about. You are quite safe. Safer than you ever imagined you’d be.” “Heh! I daresay,” chuckled Applejack. Uni’s frown warred with her amusement, and began to erode in the face of Applejack’s obvious cheerfulness. Applejack continued, “Prob’ly safer than even you know. What the heck—I’ll go first!” “Don’t go!” said Uni quickly. “This is no time for sea madness. Beautiful the rippling waves may be, but you cannot gallop across them! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to stop my c… hmph.” “Gotcha!” teased Applejack. “Mine too. In case you were wonderin’.” Uni glowered in a grudgingly respectful way. “What do you mean by, ‘mine too’? I ask, of course, just out of curiosity, without implying anything.” “Suuuure ya don’t,” snickered Applejack. “It’s just us here, Uni, if that’s really your name. And call me a crazy filly, but somehow I get the idea that you would not be prop’ly terrified to learn you’re sharing a boat with… the Dread Pirate Booties!” Uni blinked. “Who?” she asked politely. It was Applejack’s turn to glower. “Hmph! A lot you know. Shoulda plundered out this way more often.” She shrugged. “What’s done is done. You really never heard of me? Ah kicked the flank of Blackmane and made him flee me an’ my crew in a lil’ rowboat.” Uni’s eyes widened. “Butattosupuritta!” she sputtered. “Blackmane?” “The very same,” boasted Applejack proudly. “I was his first mate for a brief an’ embarrassin’ period. I took his crew an’ kicked his butt and woulda kilt him stone dead if I could. No lie.” “WHEN?” demanded Uni, astonished. “Plenty of years ago,” said Applejack. “Don’t worry, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since. I was jes’ a filly. I don’t tell everypony that story, y’know, Uni.” Uni’s eyes were more shocked than Applejack had ever seen. She bowed her head, and then her eyes came up under lowered brows, burning, pinning Applejack to the spot. “I am the Kabochaebi,” she hissed, “the Mantis Shrimp. I have seen the pirate Blackmane. I have known the pirate Blackmane. And… and… me too.” “Beg pardon?” blinked Applejack. Uni shook herself, and glanced up, bashful at her outburst. “Yes, Dread Pirate Booties. I did that. He must have gone and found another crew after he left you.” Applejack began grinning. “No shit. No SHIT. Really? Seriously? That lot ya got back there in the town, they’re like Blackmane Crew Mark Two?” “No!” snapped Uni. “They are good ponies! They’re mine! They are the crew of Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp. Not his! Never again!” Applejack sat back. “Whoa there. I respect your position, there, missy. Happens I felt pretty much the same way. Before you get all snappy with me, I’d like two things if you can manage ‘em.” Uni quieted, with a visible effort. “I will not be snappy with you, Booties. What do you wish?” “First… a hug,” suggested Applejack. “And then, I’ve just got to hear more of this story!” Uni gulped. Her face twisted with emotion, and then she was giving her fellow pirate captain a big hug, and then right away she was sitting again in her meditation position, taking deep breaths, calming herself. “An’ also,” added Applejack, “how you kin fling full-growed unicorns around. Me, I’m more expert at jes’ droppin’ them where they stand, so I can’t imagine how you get ‘em airborne like that.” Uni twitched. “Oh, that is only martial arts. I can show you, but not here, it might hurt the boat.” “All righty.” Uni shot her a fierce look. “Why would you need to know that? Are you trying to train more pirate crews, for wicked deeds?” “Do you SEE me doin’ wicked deeds?” Applejack shot back, unhesitatingly. It made Uni pause. “No. And the Kirin did not flinch at you. They would have sensed it, I am sure.” “They din’t flinch at you either,” said Applejack. “What happened? I feel like maybe I kin guess some of it. When I stole my crew from Blackmane, we sailed around raisin’ hell for a while but then I din’t want to be mean no more. I decided they oughta straighten out and be nice, too.” Uni nodded slowly. “For no reason?” “Naw, ‘cos I was gonna kick six kinds of hell outta them if they didn’t…” “No,” said Uni. “I mean, you turned good for no reason?” Applejack sat back and blinked. “Ah was always good. Do you mean, you needed a reason? You weren’t good?” Uni’s gaze was complicated. It combined pride, scorn, sadness, even some guilt. “I am the Kabochaebi. I terrified the seas around Neighpon, and rejoiced, and I was alone, commanding my crew. Nothing stood against me. And then… there was the small town, and… him.” “A bad ‘un?” guessed Applejack. Uni shook her head wonderingly. Tears glistened in those commanding eyes. “Mugennokaijitsu.” “Oh, him!” said Applejack. “Your sweetie-pony!” Uni nodded, a weepy, quivery smile threatening to take over her face. “He is fearless! He cares only about flavors. And so intelligent. I captured him, Booties. He served me, and he became my lover, and it was a terrible discipline problem. The crew could not understand.” “About you fuckin’ the help?” said Applejack wisely. “Best not play favorites, I worked that one out in a hurry. You gotta either jump ‘em all, or just kick them until they’re sensible. I tried both. Fuckin’ em all was a dern sight friendlier, though it gets tiring…” Uni was shaking her head. “I did not do that. My martial arts were enough. No, he behaved like he could talk openly to me. He expressed opinions. I could not make him crawl before me like the others. He would say he loved me, and knew I didn’t want to be that way. And it was true… I wanted to be his partner, not his captain. He would defer to me just as readily, but he knows nothing of seafaring! And then he began asking if it was right, for us to pillage the high seas. He would ask if we were being kind…” “Aw,” said Applejack. “I think I see where this is goin’. He was a spoilsport and consarned good influence, huh?” “Con… sarned?” “He offered you love,” said Applejack, “but he stayed true to himself. Ain’t that right?” Uni nodded. “It is right! I love him. We had wealth, but lived the lives of pirates. He didn’t wish that. We had destroyed his town and stolen him from it. He wanted to return home.” “You’d ruined his home.” Uni gave that look full of pride and grief, again. “We RESTORED his home. We sailed back, in the end, and rebuilt the town we had smashed. We could not restore the ponies who’d fled or died, but we moved into the town ourselves, and we waited. Some of the crew fled across the sea in terror. The most loyal of my crew remained, with me and my love, and we waited. We waited for our doom, because there was nothing else for us to do.” “Beg pardon?” asked Applejack. “Did you think Blackmane would come get ya?” “Kirin,” explained Uni. “We were not marauding off the coast. We weren’t running away. The Kirin would come, at some point. We would not fight them, Mugennokaijitsu didn’t wish it. He had befriended the crew, once we decided to stop pirating. He trusted us, especially those who remained after some had fled. Mugen swore the Kirin would smile upon our town.” “I think I’m beginnin’ to see why y’all were so scared,” said Applejack. “So what did you do?” “None of us will ever forget that day,” said Uni, softly. “We knew Mugen believed in us. But when we heard him calling out, saying the Kirin were here, we expected death. I gathered my crew. We walked out to the docks, because One-Eye and The-Other-Eye swore they would only go to their deaths if they could be by the sea they loved when it happened. I understood: we all felt that way to some extent. We walked out, and Mugen was there, and the Kirin were with him, and we lined up and we bowed to the Kirin and awaited our judgement.” She gulped. “I remember feeling so sorry for Mugennokaijitsu, knowing in my heart that I was about to be executed in front of him. Poor, beautiful Mugennokaijitsu. He didn’t understand how we felt…” “Wow,” breathed Applejack. “And?” “I looked up and all the Kirin looked like Mugennokaijitsu,” said Uni. “There were five of them, all glittering with scales and magic as if they were going to war, but they were looking upon us and weeping with joy. They were terribly upset! And Mugennokaijitsu, my Mugennokaijitsu, he spoke and he said, I told you so! And then the Kirin were rushing forward, but rather than destroy us for the terrifying and wicked pirates we were, they began hugging us and crying…” “Awwww!” “Also, shaking us, and yelling, and swearing to help us, and threatening us with a terrible fate if we returned to evilness,” said Uni. She shrugged. “You know the drill! And so, the town of Kabochaebi was born. It is the first and only town in Neighpon composed of only the most terrible pirates, turned good. We play host to many Kirin: we think it is a sort of tourism thing. Mugennokaijitsu thinks they bring young Kirin to Kabochaebi to teach them not to judge. I keep telling him, if they are bringing young Kirin to our home, it’s to teach them HOW to judge. And as long as I am there, Kabochaebi will remain good.” “Woohoo!” cried Applejack. “Good for you! That’s one heck of a story. I’m not sure Ponyville’s got anything to match it.” She thought. “Or maybe we do. Seems like ponies are the same all over, in some ways. Back at home we’ve done everything from tamin’ a draconequus, to harboring Equestria’s first good vampire-pony, to bringin’ a notorious outlaw pony home from the wide-open prairie. Hell, he even built a house, though it does face away from Ponyville. I guess some hearts always roam.” “I feel true hearts will return home,” said Uni. “Mugennokaijitsu is my home. I merely build a place for him to live and be happy.” Applejack frowned, a little. “The WHOLE town’s full of th’ most terrible pirates? Are you sure you should be traveling to Ponyville, then? It seems like maybe you oughta stay home keepin’ an eye on them.” “Why?” “In case some feller gets obstreperous,” explained Applejack. “What if one of them ponies got drunk an’ hurt Mugen or something?” “They will defend Mugen,” said Uni, simply. “They must.” “Ya sure?” For a moment, Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp, looked out of Uni’s eyes. “Yes. If he is harmed, I will hunt down and murder every single one of them without exception, before killing myself.” Applejack’s jaw dropped. “Killed, I mean,” said Kabochaebi. “If he is only harmed, he would talk me out of it.” She blinked, and shook herself. “This is not good, I should not talk that way. I don’t have to live that way anymore. I have learned to trust.” Applejack’s eyes were wide. “Uhh… good! That’s good, trustin’ is good. Mostly it’s served me well.” She winced, thinking of old memories. “Pretty much the times I ain’t had trust for my loved ones, were the worstest times in my whole entire life… let’s both trust, okay?” “Of course,” said Uni, the pirate queen gradually leaving her eyes. “A hug might do me some good right now,” admitted Applejack. Uni obliged. “You can be the Kirin, while we’re at sea!” she said. “I kin be the what now?” “Every day, at least one Kirin comes to Kabochaebi,” explained Uni. “And every Kirin who comes to Kabochaebi, expresses their love by hugging me. Sometimes they hug very fiercely, and their manes seem to explode with energy! They also hug the other townsponies, but they always hug me! So I am used to hugs now.” Applejack stared, wide-eyed. “Dang. Um. I, uh, I guess they can’t get enough of ya, huh? They probably never knew anypony who turned half as good as you.” Uni smiled happily, and the Mantis Shrimp glittered cheerfully behind her eyes, kept in perfect balance by a diet of love and serenity. “Nopony is as good as Mugennokaijitsu,” she said. “I am only as good as myself.” The Ponyville street was quiet. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle trotted along. “I don’t know if that kind of dancing is really for me,” said Sweetie Belle. “It would be even harder than that melty dancing DJ Pon-3 showed us. Anyway, if we were going to get our cutie marks from dancing, wouldn’t we have got them when we won the dance contest?” “That’s the thing!” said Scootaloo. “I feel like we were really close to it. I was copying what those other pegasi did, just like you were copying the unicorns. Of course we won, we were fucking awesome. But was that really, like, cutie-mark material? It was great, but I don’t know… it maybe wasn’t totally US.” Sweetie sighed, tossing her mane. “Wherever you go, I go, darling. If your insistence on dancing makes me have muscle cramps, I expect you to massage them out of me. Just so you know.” Scootaloo kissed her, without breaking stride. “I knew I could count on you! Not much farther. And it’s the dance contest that gave me the idea. Think about it. He’s my dad… well, my earth pony Dad, and totally the awesome one. He has a whole kind of dancing of his own, and it’s so stalliony that he even pops boners doing it, and you know I’m all about getting in touch with my, like, inner maleness. And I bet he’d show us about that dancing, and his house would be a good pl… a g…” Braeburn’s house came into view… sort of. It had been kicked to splinters, until not a single wall was standing. Everything lay flat, and there was no sign of the renegade cowpony, Scootaloo’s Dad. Kicked from the inside, until nothing remained in Ponyville to confine him. Braeburn was gone. Sweetie Belle gasped. “Oh, no! Did he get mad at something? What got into him? Do you know, Sc… SCOOTALOO!” But Scootaloo had taken one look, and grasped the essential truth of the situation. She was already gone, running and half-flying as fast as she possibly could, bound for the Ponyville house she shared with Flight Lightning. “MOOOOOMMMM!” Rough Rider“Slow down, honey,” pleaded Flight Lightning. “Start over. What happened?” Scootaloo took a big breath. “It’s Dad! It’s Braeburn! He’s gone!” Flight Lightning wasn’t often motherly… but she’d learned. She hugged Scootaloo, and shook her, the latter being more like her usual reactions. “No he’s not! What, he didn’t come back yet? You know he’s always chasing mares and the occasional stallion, but I promise, he’ll come home…” “No, he won’t because his house is smashed flat!” Flight Lightning gasped. “WHAT? Did you help him? What happened to it? Scootaloo, good job going and getting help but are you sure…” “Momm!” “Are you sure you didn’t leave him there, did you check? What do you mean, smashed flat?” Scootaloo glowered. “All the walls kicked down, that’s what. MOM! Listen!” “But… well, Braeburn, he gets up to some mischief, but Ponyville’s a nice town, Scootaloo! Who would attack Braeb…” “MOM!” yelled Scootaloo. She took a breath. “From the INSIDE…” Flight Lightning froze. She’d almost forgotten that about Braeburn. He’d seemed so well adjusted to life in Ponyville, near one of his mares and available to his half-pegasus daughter. It was almost possible to forget he was a notorious outlaw who vanished on the wind at the first sign of confinement. You almost couldn’t believe he’d ever been the untameable heartbreaker. Almost. “Shit,” said Flight Lightning. She began to pace, turning to and fro. “Shit! We’d better get going. Were there any clues?” “Not there!” said Scootaloo. “Spill it, kid. Fast. What do you know?” “His house is just flat,” said Scootaloo. “Kicked down from the inside, he must have been really upset. That’s not the clue. We just saw DJ Pon-3 and Octavia leave town. They’re going on tour, they were sailing out of Manehattan to Neighpon. And you know who was their roadie? Big Macintosh.” “No kidding?” said Flight Lightning. “Yeah, and you know he’s real tight with Brae… yeah. Yeah! I think you’re on to something, Scoots!” “And not only that,” said Scootaloo, “Braeburn acted weird that day, AND Rarity acted funny too!” “Funny how?” demanded Flight Lightning. “She was bidding him farewell in this totally over-the-top way! And then she ran off and hid in her boutique and wouldn’t come out! And do you remember when that Kirin…” “…from Neighpon…” both said… “…came to town? And you know who was shackin’ up with her? Not our Braeburn,” said Scootaloo, “but Big Macintosh! And what…” “Ah, shit!” said Flight Lightning, trotting in place. “I get you! What if he’s not coming back? Fuck! Sorry. Actually never mind, this calls for it. Fuck! I’m way ahead of you, Scoots. Brae’s chasing Big Macintosh. I’m sure of it. We gotta go after him! I don’t know what good it will do but his world is not just made up of one overly-thick farm horse. He’ll come to his senses… I hope. But we gotta catch him, reason with him. If he thinks he’s losing Big Macintosh to a Neighponnese magic-filly the least he needs is a hug, and it might help for ponies he loves to talk to him. We gotta catch him!” “I can’t fly across the ocean,” said Scootaloo. “I fucking can,” said Flight Lightning. “I’m about to. I’ll carry you, we’ve done that before.” “But what about Sweetie Belle?” said Scootaloo. “She goes where I go.” “I beg your pardon?” said Flight Lightning, appalled. “Scoots, you’re getting so big it’ll be a hell of a thing even to carry just you across a whole damn ocean. I’m only saying it because we’ve got to go and we’ve got to go fast and I think I can just about manage it, and I can spot a boat on the ocean and he can’t hide that. We might just have a chance if we catch him before he makes landfall. But there’s no way I can carry both you and Sweetie B…” Galloping pony hooves drew up, outside. The door was still open. “In there!” came Sweetie’s voice. Through the door came Rainbow Dash, with Sweetie riding on her back. “What’s going on? I’ve never seen Sweetie Belle run so fast. I helped her get where she was going. Hey, look at you. Are you okay?” Flight Lightning gulped, looking grim. “We’ve been better, Dash. There’s a problem.” “What’s wrong?” “We think Braeburn’s run away to Neighpon. He kicked down his house and he’s gone. We’ve seen it before. When he’s at his full sneakiness, nopony can catch him.” Slowly, very slowly, Rainbow Dash began to smirk. “Wanna bet?” she said. Nighttime at the Neighponnese port of Kabochaebi was quiet. Ponies who’d been carousing all night had staggered off to their cozy homes, to sleep the sleep of the formerly-wicked and wake up bright-eyed and covered in somepony else’s recycled rice-cider. Waves lapped quietly against the dock, the shore, the beach. Among them, other sounds, sounds just like waves, sounds no louder than those gentle waves… sounds that nopony would imagine signified a visitor to Neighpon’s shores. Braeburn’s eyes peered across the water, from around the edge of the boat. It might seem odd, for pony eyes to appear at water level when a perfectly serviceable boat was available. But a pony riding a boat aground might make some sort of scrunching noise that would carry. And a pony jumping out of a boat might make a splash, little or big, and be silhouetted against the moon reflecting off those gentle ocean waves. A pony that had lowered himself into the chilly water very slowly, and swum to shore towing the boat silently along with him, would make no splash and no silhouette. Braeburn was not about to be dissuaded from entering Neighpon, nor interfered with on his mission. With smooth, stealthy motions, he reached the shore and silently lifted the boat up to rest it on the beach. His ears twisted this way and that, listening for listeners. His eyes were reddened, not entirely from the salty seawater. He froze. There was something, hundreds of yards away. He peered around the boat, in the embracing darkness, just barely altering its silhouette enough to use his dark-adjusted eyes, ears laid back against his head to conceal them. Luminous. Wispy. Some kind of light. Kirin! Braeburn barely breathed. His expression turned grim. That thing might sense him. He reckoned however he described his business, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense to any sort of police or guardpony, and Kirin were a fancy sort of guardpony, weren’t they? He meant Neighpon no harm, but he was damned if it was going to stand in his way, and instinctively he felt this attitude couldn’t possibly work with the Kirin. They were strange, powerful magic creatures, and he was just an earth pony stallion from Appleloosa. Braeburn’s brows lowered. They had some tricks in Appleloosa. Well… he had, anyhoof. He controlled his breathing with fierce determination, though his heart pounded with fear… and he took action, in the dark and silent night. Very slowly, Braeburn walked out of the lapping waves, onto the beach to the side of his boat. He dug his hooves in, and twisted and worked them, right by the boat… and then, in slow motion, ears perked in terror, he walked silently up the beach. It was nearly too dark to see, but the Kirin probably had no such problem, consarned magic-critters that they were. His lip curled in frustration… but he wasn’t out of tricks yet. He snuffled at the ground as he went, and then got a small rock between his lips, along with some sand for his troubles. Braeburn continued to walk until he felt the beginnings of grass under his hooves. Then, his skin crawling with tension, he reversed himself, and he stepped carefully backwards in his tracks, all the way to the boat. He saw that the waves had already begun to erode where he’d dug in his hooves, and smiled a little around the small rock held in his mouth. And he kept on backing up, into the sea, until he was swimming quietly out away from the shore, still watching that alarming hint of luminescence that meant a magical guardian-type creature fixing to catch him and ask him inconvenient questions. Back further and further Braeburn went, until he judged he was about as far away as he dared. Kicking his hooves, he rose in the water as well as he could, balancing the small rock on his right forehoof. One convulsive kick, and he went still and quiet and sank into the waves, his eyes barely above the surface of the water, and Braeburn waited. Three… two… A sharp clunk told him that his rock had found its target, the boat. He sank lower, as well as he could. Going fully underwater was tempting, but he had to see. He compromised, staying so low that he could barely glimpse the shore. His heart jolted, and he re-evaluated in a big hurry… A beautiful creature, glowing at its mane and strange curled-back horn and fetlocks and tailtip, had walked over and was studying the boat. Braeburn struggled to stay low. He swore the damn critter was looking out to sea, though it was only brief distorted glimpses he permitted himself. His eyes were slits. He reminded himself, if it made any sort of bright light, eyes closed and stay closed until the light stops. No reflecting lights in outlaw pony eyes, not from ol’ Braeburn… At first he suspected, then he was sure. It had turned. Braeburn rose a little farther out of the water, peering shoreward. The Kirin had definitely turned away. What’s more, it was studying the beach. No, better… the Kirin was studying the tracks he’d made! It wandered curiously up the beach, following the hoofprints, and reached the grass. Braeburn cringed back beneath the salty waves, as a bright light shone out. It was a sort of beam, and it was aimed into the town. He stayed low, as another Kirin appeared to join the first one. They talked, softly… he couldn’t make out a thing they were saying. That was possibly good, and possibly not. If there was shouting, he could expect a certain reaction… He got it. Both Kirin headed off in the direction the hoofprints appeared to lead. They separated, taking slightly different paths, and were soon lost to sight. Braeburn floated smugly, his eyes just above the waves, his grin safely under it. After a while, he swam carefully to shore, and stepped up onto the beach. With ceremony, he walked up the beach in the same hoofprints he’d used twice before, and reached the safety of the grass, and looked beyond it to a grove of trees. “Alwayth try ta thtay behind th’ pothhh-e…” he whispered to himself, faintly. Even in the absence of the Kirin, Braeburn didn’t trust his surroundings, and took pains not to pronounce ’S’es in the quiet dark of the night. His motto was barely vocalized, but it had served him one more time. Always try to stay behind the posse. Braeburn slowly walked into the concealing grove of trees. That was a good start. There were bad points about it: it seemed too manicured, without enough underbrush to hide him, but he’d just have to deal with that too. Dern place was like a big garden, Braeburn thought. All them trees might as well be big flower arrangements. He stopped in his tracks, tears blinding him for a moment. “All right for… Princethh…” he breathed, barely audible. It was, indeed, the right sort of place for Princess, who deserved no less. Braeburn shook himself, setting his jaw, a grim look in his tearful eyes, and in a silence as deep as the night, he proceeded onward. The next morning was bright. The next town was friendly, excited to be visited by traveling musicians. The next gig was a huge success, with Octavia bringing the townsponies to tears with the intimacy of her bow, and then working them up with the sensuality of her compositions… and then, DJ Pon-3 filled the town with throbbing bass, and Big Macintosh’s eyes widened to see how wantonly the Neighponnese ponies danced and ground upon each others’ bodies. It was his first chance to check out the audience, as he’d kept very busy before the gig, making up for previous indiscretions by staying constantly active with the PA set-up. Octavia and Vinyl had been appreciative, though their personalities diverged: pre-performance, Octavia became emotionally engaged, even getting a hug from Big Macintosh and praising his efforts with the PA. By contrast, Vinyl Scratch started out in an encouraging vein, but as her hour approached, she retreated behind those rose-colored shades and a studied, stagey coolness that was oddly aggressive. She wasn’t unkind, but she seemed to ascend some private mountain, the better to tap into her bass drops and butt-shaking beats. There was no doubting the result. DJ Pon-3 turned a town of eager ponies into an orgiastic bacchanal of beats. Big Macintosh could feel the waves of adulation directed up at the little Neighponnese expatriate, returned home to lay the boogie down. And as the dancing progressed, DJ Pon-3 never lost her cool… but the audience got hotter and hotter. When she released them, half the stallions had huge boners, and half the mares had wet streaks down the inside of their thighs. And all the ponies had huge grins… and unmistakeable come-hither looks. Truly, music was a powerful force. Big Macintosh was watching the eager ponies drag each other off into the bushes in twos and sometimes threes or fours, and he was thinking about Hina. Surely, she would appreciate him deepening their relationship by using some nice unicorn mare… or stal… mare, anyway, to feed his beloved? It would be like cooking a delicious meal for her. His well-honed skills standing at stud must surely help him. And maybe, perhaps, keeping in practice might not be such a bad idea… “Hey!” came a voice. He turned, and saw a jet-black pegasus mare, her wings stiffly erect, eyeing him. “Um… hello?” “You’re not from around here,” she said, teasingly. “Eenope.” “Come with me,” said the pegasus mare. She was dressed in a strange, pointy, angled costume, and her attitude was one of effortless command. “What for?” said Big Macintosh. “Am Ah in trouble, ma’am?” She turned, staring at him and smirking. “Maybe I am. I hope so! Don’t be silly. Come and have sex!” “Uhh… okay!” said Big Macintosh, obligingly. He glanced back where he’d last seen Octavia. He saw her giving him a victorious hoof-pump and a wink, not with her marehood but still rather suggestive. It seemed he was off duty. Big Macintosh, wide-eyed, followed his unnamed black pegasus mare in her fierce costume as she led him away into the town. “Thankee kindly,” said Big Macintosh, “nice place y’got h… aw sweet Celestia!” He cowered back, to the astonishment of his would-be mare. “What is the matter with you?” she exclaimed. “Nothin’ yet, ma’am, and Ah’d like to keep it that way!” The little house was open plan with large archways between rooms, befitting a flying pony occupant. The bedroom was spacious, with a high ceiling, likewise appropriate for a pegasus. Upon entering the house, she’d flown up and thrown off her imposing pointy costume in a flurry of loop-de-loops, appropriate for a horny pegasus. All that wasn’t a problem. The outrageous assembly of trusses, winches and cables seemed more appropriate for Rarity’s inner sanctum, and Big Macintosh hadn’t bargained on anything like that. He stared at the black pegasus, eyes wide and panicky. She stamped the floor, and stuck out her lower lip. “Don’t be such a baby! I should be far more worried than you. Of course instead I am very excited, but who could blame me? You have no such excuse!” Big Macintosh gulped, eyeing the springs and pulleys. “Other than gittin’ trussed up by a crazy horny pony what I don’t even know her name? Beggin’ your pardon ma’am but I was imagining somethin’ different.” She blinked at him. “Name? I am Tobi, of course. Tobikomimasu. See, on my flank, the cutie mark of a target? I thought all ponies knew about me.” “Ah’m Big Macintosh and I ain’t never heard about you. I’m not from around here,” said Big Macintosh, “an’ I’m not sure what a target cutie mark has ta do with… listen, ma’am, them things probably ain’t even STRONG enough to hold up a Ponyville earth pony in the air. At least not one like me.” “Tell me more about you,” crooned Tobi, trotting over and rubbing against him. “Strong, did you say? Mmmmm.” “I ain’t had no complaints… hey!” said Big Macintosh. “You sure you should be doin’ that?” She was fondling his body with her wings. She blinked, again. “They’ll see worse. Mmmmm! I want to see your penis. Is it mighty?” “Mighty close to runnin’ the buck outta here!” Tobikomimasu sat down with a gentle squelch, looking dismayed. “No! Don’t flee! Talk to me, why do you say such strange things, Big Macintosh? What even is a Macintosh?” “Kind of apple,” explained Big Macintosh. “An’ it’s funny you should be tellin’ ME about strange things! An’ I’ve seen some mighty strange things in my day, Miss Tobi! Do you mind explainin’ what you mean to do with all that foofaraw?” He gestured to the harnesses and cables and pulleys and brackets. Tobi blinked. “You are so disconcerting! You really don’t know. Those guide me, Big Macintosh.” “Ah reckon Rarity woulda said the same thing,” said Big Macintosh, “but what they guided her TO was even more disconcertin’ at the time…” “What’s a Rarity?” asked Tobi. She shook herself, with a rustle of wings. “Never mind! Sit there and watch. I’ll show you!” Big Macintosh didn’t entirely follow her directions. Instead, he cringed back slightly as she rose, but soon he was gawking in complete astonishment, as he watched the pegasus mare’s preparations for sex. The very first thing she did was loop a peculiar, knobbly chain over her wing. Big Macintosh had been eyeing it the whole time and vowing that if it went toward his dick, he wasn’t going to stop running until at least the next town. His jaw dropped as he saw what Tobi was doing with it. There were two of them. She’d wrapped them around her wing bases in such a way that they’d tighten. “Ma’am,” said Big Macintosh seriously. “You lookin’ to foal with th’ stud from Ponyville?” She recoiled, raising a forehoof. “Why do you say that?” “Well, pegasus wings ain’t for idly messin’ with…” Tobi relaxed, with a laugh. “Don’t be silly! You are such a strange horse, knowing nothing of Neighpon! I’ve seen the Kirin, my duty is glory and not foals.” Big Macintosh’s ears were laid back. “Soooo… pegasi ain’t the same in Neighpon? No offense, ma’am. Back where I come from, what you’re doin’ there might cause a perty big reaction.” The black pegasus was serene again, fussing with hoof-cuffs on her forehooves as the other cables ran neatly under her folded wings. “I don’t know your different pegasi. And I am Tobikomimasu. I am known for big reactions.” She glanced up at him. “Promise me this one thing! If you are frightened and flee me, you must go and get help.” Big Macintosh’s ears laid back even more. “T’ain’t exactly reassuring.” “Not for you, for me!” replied Tobi. She shook herself, and took a deep breath. “I am ready. Press the button!” “Whut button?” “That button,” she said, and pointed a hoof towards a big red button on the floor, by a peculiar seat. Big Macintosh stepped toward it, and looked again. The whole area was stained. Nervously, he inspected the seat and button for bloodstains, but the residue seemed… clearer. He bent down to sniff it, and his nostrils flared. Eyup! Mare juice. He glanced up at Tobikomimasu. She bit her lip, shivering, and nodded. Big Macintosh stepped on the button, and all cabley hell broke loose. With a rattling whoosh, pulleys raced upwards, cables tightened, the room seemed to transform into a kinky web of suspension harnesses centered around the form of the pegasus Tobikomimasu. Her forelegs stretched one way, she lifted off the ground… but anyone who knew pegasi knew that wasn’t what made Tobi whinny wildly, her eyes rolling back in her head. The cables behind her yanked taut, and the knobbly choke-chains fiercely grabbed her by both wing bases at once, lifting her by them. For a moment, she could only writhe and squeal. Big Macintosh’s eyes dropped down. Her pony nipples were hard as rocks, and her pussy winked frantically, adding a little more mare juice to the extensive collection on the floor. His eyes rose, to see her splayed wings groping stiffly at the air, trembling so hard her feathers rattled. “Dang, Miss Tobi,” said Big Macintosh, impressed. “Ya sure you need me?” Her tail thrashed. She drew a shuddering breath, then another. “Get in the seat,” ordered Tobikomimasu. Big Macintosh began to grin. This promised to be a high-air mark for pegasus extremeness, and he wasn’t exactly inexperienced. “Yes’m,” he said, sternly repressing the temptation to tease her. If anything, he thought, he’d have to be quick, because she’d surely get off just dangling there. But then, mares didn’t work quite like stallions. If you remembered your tricks, they could keep going and going and going… Tobikomimasu didn’t see the slight fretful look on Big Macintosh’s face, as she was too distracted by the bold gnawing sensations wresting her wingbases into position. Nevertheless, he clambered into the unusual seat almost as if some wise cowpony were instructing him to take care of the pretty, frantic mare properly. He even hastily clopped himself, turning a burgeoning stallion erection into a mighty pillar. “Here ya go,” he encouraged. “Mare-tested, Princess-approved! This’ll set you right.” Tobi shivered wildly as she guided herself onto him. At first, she didn’t fit, but with ears laid back and a squeal of determination, she wedged Big Macintosh’s flare into herself and rested, panting. It was the oddest thing Big Macintosh had ever experienced, because normally if a mare on top of him got wobbly and melty, she’d sink down and penetrate herself from her own weight. Pegasi were very light, but Tobikomimasu was nearly weightless because she was suspended from forelegs and wing bases. Big Macintosh nuzzled her fluffy, heaving chest. Helpfully, he wrapped his forelegs around her, and with gentle tugs, he settled her lower, feeling his stiffness penetrate deeper and deeper as she cried out breathless whinnies of desire. “Uhmmm!” he moaned, feeling her lively rump press gently against his crotch. “That’s th’ way. Ya did it! You took a whole Ponyville pony.” He tensed his nether regions, swelling his girth just to feel her shudder and hear her squeal, his face pressed against the side of her chest. He stroked her mane. “Good girl…” “Let go!” begged Tobikomimasu. “Whut?” blinked Big Macintosh. She shook her head to clear it. “Don’t hold me down! Unhhhh! Let me be Tobikomimasu, hold onto the seat! Trust me!” Big Macintosh boggled at this request. But… it wasn’t the first time he’d been with an opinionated, bossy mare, and he figured he’d seen enough that little could shock him. So, he leaned back, released Tobikomimasu to hover upon his stallionhood, and he reached back with his forehooves to hold tight to the seat, even though he was a massive farm horse and unlikely to fly out of it anytime soon. And he watched… and his eyes widened, bit by bit. Tobikomimasu bared her pretty little teeth. She wriggled, squirming in a curious way atop him, twisting her pelvis. Big Macintosh had time to notice that she was a slippery, juicy little pegasus… and then it went beyond an observation, to a deeply significant fact. “Hey!” blurted Big Macintosh, for Tobikomimasu was bobbing vigorously on top of him, her wings jittering and rattling in delicious little spasms, splayed by the suspending cables and those fierce, knobbly harness points. Her tail thrashed, and she snarled with pleasure, for she was taking him exceptionally rough. “Ahh!” she squealed, but when Big Macintosh released the chair and reached up to steady her, she glared fretfully at him. “Arato! Do not let go, Big Macintosh! You could sprain this wonderful cock!” Big Macintosh gulped, and under her critical gaze, he desisted and hung onto the chair again. “Do you need to adjust?” asked Tobikomimasu. “Are you comfortable? Great forces are at play. You must present a stable base.” “Never heard it called that!” replied Big Macintosh, his ears back. “Y’call this play, do ya?” At that, Tobikomimasu began to smile a partly-wicked, partly-transcendent smile. “No, Big Macintosh. This is glory… and I am honored.” She licked her lips with a cute little tongue. “Deeply honored.” “Eyup. Ah noticed!” “Oh, not yet,” crooned the quivering pegasus. “Not yet, you haven’t.” She gave him another hard look, and Big Macintosh lay back in the chair, holding on determinedly, and stuck out his lower lip in a cranky pout. “Ah kin take it,” he said, “you go on an’ have your fun, now. Got to admit it feels gosh dern amazin’.” “Not yet, it doesn’t,” returned Tobikomimasu, with that naughty smile. “Prove it,” parried Big Macintosh. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and wriggled again, and he could feel her yielding pussy gripping onto him with tender earnestness, a parting squeeze before she resumed her operations. “Like that?” asked Big Macintosh. “Is that th’ way of it? Gonna go all pinchy? That kin be a treat…” “Sh! No. Be still. You are so large. I must focus.” And she did, as Big Macintosh watched. She wriggled her hips again. She wriggled her wings, allowing the knobbly chains to seize her just a little more fiercely, baring her teeth in pleasure again… and she focussed, concentrating her efforts as she began to bob upon him once more. Not to clench… but to relax. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. That was different. Not that he was a stranger to it… there had been mares, for instance Fluttershy, who got into an extremely relaxed state. He’d still feel the pressure of their bodies, but he’d be able to cavort inside them pretty vigorously if he was careful. Tobikomimasu wasn’t careful, but she was melting around him like nothing he’d ever experienced. She seemed to lubricate in bucketfuls, and the sensation was eerily like he was turning her to liquid… very happy liquid, from the sounds of it, but he’d not experienced anything so yielding inside a mare. She’d sink down until she nearly ground into his crotch, then lift way up to where his increasingly enthusiastic flare threatened to pull free of her, and then down she went again, with a tremble or a squeal, those wings twisting against their harsh restraints. Big Macintosh wondered what that even did to you, if you were a pegasus mare. What madness would it drive you to, being suspended by such a fierce bitey grip on both your wings? “Erk!” went Big Macintosh, and hastily quieted himself for fear he’d be scolded. His question had been answered nearly the instant it had been asked. He directed all his attention to holding perfectly still, his cock throbbing with audacious hardness. Tobikomimasu had achieved lift-off. Using the combination of her partly immobilized wings, her own momentum, and the elaborate harness, her eager thrusts onto him had expanded to the point where, with a loud juicy pop, she was pulling entirely off of Big Macintosh’s scandalized cock… and then, slamming down with perfect aim to impale herself upon it. She began to wail, but it wasn’t any louder than the noises her body made from this treatment: Big Macintosh boggled, motionless and rigid, for he’d never even contemplated treating a mare this way, especially at his girth. He could see he was all flared out. She didn’t seem to care. Her body was like jelly, even while she guided her fierce plunges with flicks of wing. She screamed ecstatically, not even slowing down. Squelch… squelch… squelch… Big Macintosh flared harder, and he gritted his teeth, feeling his orgasm coming on strong. It didn’t stop her. The squelches got louder, prying her jelly-ized vagina absurdly wide with every violent plunge deeply into her. He held absolutely still, while she hammered herself onto him with steadily building frenzy, her squeals turning to earsplitting shrieks, and even in this she somehow maintained control: even as her orgiastic cries hurt the ears, they built smoothly to that point, her thunderous spasming never causing her to tense up or pinch onto him. Tobikomimasu plunged again and again, impossibly loose and yielding, taking on Big Macintosh’s flare right up to the moment of… “NGGH!” Covered in mare juice, glistening and slick and pumped up to the ultimate scandalous bulging peak of stiffness, Big Macintosh’s cock let go and blasted Tobikomimasu. Not inside her: with a huge surge, he blasted her whole crotch and breasts and the dock of her tail with horsecome, and then even as he did, she plunged down onto him with a cry of lawless ecstacy, and up she went again, and he was still coming and an arc of semen sailed into the air to splatter on the floor, and then plunge and another rope of come fired into her warm wet pussy insides, only to dump right out again as she soared up, and just as Big Macintosh began to wonder in alarm if she proposed to keep going forever, Tobikomimasu screamed, “NOW! Now!” And she dropped down onto his erection with a brutal scrunch, her wings spasming so hard that feathers flew off of them, and cried, “Hold me, hold me tight!” Big Macintosh did so, privately wishing she’d gone over her plans with him in advance. Had she not noticed that he’d come all over her undercarriage already? But it wasn’t that. Things became more clear by the second. Tobikomimasu pressed down as hard as she could, and cautiously, Big Macintosh helped, wrapping her in a hug and pulling her deeper onto his just-fired cannon. “EEEEE!” squealed the frantic black pegasus, her body shaking violently in his embrace, and she nuzzled against his neck as if possessed by fire spirits or pink demons, and while securely jammed onto the cock that had been plunging her, she at last gave way to unbridled climaxes. All coordination lost, she thrashed and clenched upon him and cut loose with incoherent screams, a peak that went on and on. There was still a jelly-quality to her vagina and she didn’t have nearly the clenchy-fierceness of other mares, but that seemed hardly surprising. Big Macintosh was privately amazed that she didn’t walk around with a hoof-wide hole in her all the time, given the kind of fun she seemed to crave. Slowly, her spasms subsided. Big Macintosh petted her mane, beyond words. Finally, he found some, looking at her wings. They twitched, still locked in the cruel grip of those knobbly chains, and he thought it looked painful. “Kin I loose ya? From them things, Ah mean. Ah would kinda like to keep a’cuddlin ya, on account of that was for sure amazin’.” Tobikomimasu croaked weakly, “Button… again.” His rear hoof could just about stretch over, and with a sharp kick, the button was pushed… and all the cables and pulleys released at once, falling with a clatter and slither to the floor. Big Macintosh tenderly tugged at the knobbly chains with his teeth, until they untangled and fell away from Tobikomimasu’s poor thrashed wings. He marveled, as he felt his dick subside and ease its harsh occupation of her surprisingly-capacious pussy. He nuzzled one black wing, so light in the manner of pegasus wings, so frazzled and disheveled after the performance she’d put on… and so untouchable and forbidden, in his experience. Hesitantly, with a sense of deep wonder, Big Macintosh nuzzled her wing again, where it had been boldly crunched in a cruel grip. Every part of her was utterly relaxed and sated. He closed his lips upon her wing shank, and she didn’t resist or object. Reflectively, he tugged an ebony feather. Tobikomimasu was so completely drained that she didn’t even twitch at this act, which would be so unthinkable to any Ponyville pegasus. Of course, to them it meant pregnancy. Her world seemed to use different rules. And so, she’d tapped into every erotic trigger she had, along with some strange discipline he’d never felt from a mare, to sexually bash herself into a quivering splat of a pegasus upon his giant Ponyville cock. Maybe she’d need to go see the Kirin. He tried to peek under her to see if he’d done physical damage, but having sated herself she had collapsed against his crotch with the full weight of a totally limp pony. His erection had subsided, but even before that was true, she’d gone to the absolute hilt and as far beyond as she could shove. She’d done things to herself he would never do to a mare, not in a thousand years, and had seemingly got away with it. Big Macintosh hugged her again, provoking a feeble croon. He tried to look in her eyes, though they were really glazed. “Why?” he asked. “Why ya take it so dang hard, Tobi?” She nuzzled against his neck with the power of a kitten sleeping in a sunbeam, and just as much satisfaction. “Glory…” she managed, and then she passed out and began to snore in his embrace. Big Macintosh sat there for quite a while, mulling it over. “No shit, really?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, trotting placidly along in harness. “Pulleys? Chains? Did you say on her WINGS?” pressed Scratch. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. “And she was bouncing up so high she pulled right the fuck off you, and then boom, all the way? Are you shittin’ me, Big Macintosh? I mean, that’s crazy even for one of our pegasi. Is that really true?” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. “Did she come?” teased Vinyl Scratch. Pause. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. Scratch cackled with laughter. “Baaahaha! That’s hilarious. I want to try!” “Ya do?” said Big Macintosh, his ears quirking in surprise. “Not with you!” Vinyl hastily corrected. “I mean, even if you were normal sized, no. I guess I’m assuming you’re not? None of my business, we’re a road crew, that’s what groupies are for. I’m glad you’re having some fun, Big Macintosh. I just mean, I’d like to play in a harness like that sometime.” “Really, Scratchie?” chided Octavia. “I don’t think that’s wise, from how he described it.” “Oh, yeah?” retorted Scratch. “Unless you start practicing with the OTHER side of the barbell,” said Octavia. “Oh. Yeah, you have a point… so, Big Macintosh, while she was doing it, did you notice her like clamping down at any point? In a way where it’d hurt her to get rammed into like that? Or was it like she just had this amazing gift for turning into a loosey-goose melty-pony who can take anything?” “I have that gift,” said Octavia proudly. “I’m famous for it.” “Uh-huh.” “Soooo, Big Macintosh,” continued Octavia, “how exactly did she arrange these pulleys and cables?” “You’ll crush him to DEATH,” accused Vinyl Scratch. “How hard would Stout Heart want you to bounce? Seriously. Be careful how you answer.” Octavia pouted, frowning. “Never tell him, ever,” she concluded, and pouted harder. “Curse it!” Scratch gave her a little kiss. “I promise. Curse it twice! Neither of us can try it, for opposite reasons. I’m too bad at it, and you’re too good!” “Some pegasi have all the luck,” grumbled Octavia, as the cart rolled cheerfully away over the hill and out of sight. DeeperKirin did not freak out, as a rule. Kirin… considered. Kirin took a long view, and did not jump to conclusions if they could help it. Kirin, confronting the mystery of the empty boat and the mysterious tracks in the sand, undertook to consider this as well… and did so, patiently. And sometimes, unbeknownst to ponies, Kirin politely argued, abandoning their elaborate courtly diction, over the management of their charges and the extent of their responsibilities to their little ponies of all sorts. “Good ponies are affectionate with each other,” said Yosuru. “Kawa is right to be puzzled, it is strange for a visiting pony not to seek shelter in the town. Why would he, or she, not look to the companionship and love of the townsponies?” Kantokusha lifted an eyebrow, his horn glimmering thoughtfully. “The visiting pony arrived at Kabochaebi.” “We enjoy Kabochaebi!” protested Yosuru. “What are you suggesting?” “The visiting pony arrived at a town where all the ponies staggered home drunk in the small hours of the morning,” explained Kantokusha. “The town is named after the dreaded pirate captain and full of her former crew. A visiting pony’s expectations of companionship, or indeed love, might be seen differently through the lens of this famous history.” “They DO love,” insisted Kawa, who’d discovered the boat and the curious tracks that led nowhere. “Yes, I know,” said Kantokusha. “I healed a wandering colt who’d encountered their town. They’d loved him all night long, until he was exhausted and injured.” Yosuru pouted. “That’s not fair. I remember the situation, and it was expecting too much of Kabochaebi, and that colt would have been perfectly fine if he didn’t keep on crawling back and demanding more. They’d put him to bed nicely three times and he repeatedly woke up and sought them out for repeated buggering. You said yourself part of his trouble was dehydration, because they were using his youthful orgasms for target practice. With his delighted approval, I might add. They said he seemed never to tire of that game.” “They were responsible for attending to his well-being!” argued Kantokusha. “I’ll grant you that they had only rice-cider on hoof to drink, but somepony could have gone and got water. They could have recognized that he had gone far beyond acceptable limits for a pony!” “He was a pegasus colt, they know nothing of limits, and it was many years ago!” said Kawa. “Why do you bring this up, anyway?” Kantokusha frowned. “Only to explain that there may be a logical reason for this visiting stranger to shy away from Kabochaebi,” he said. “Or to seek it out?” teased Yosuru. She smiled at the visiting, higher-ranking Kirin. He nodded, reluctantly. “That is true. And I will admit that they have been more civilized in recent years. Do you have other explanations for this odd occurrence?” Yosuru shook her head. “No. And it’s not the only odd occurrence. I appreciate your visiting, Kantokusha, even if you don’t love Kabochaebi as we do. There was rumor of a weird monster also reaching Neighpon’s shores. It was three bays east of Kabochaebi, and it was this morning, while Kawa discovered this curious boat mystery late last night.” “Weird monster?” asked Kantokusha, with an indulgent smile. “Forgive us,” said Yosuru. “Yes, we’re referring to Taikutsuna, the fishing village you yourself watch over. But the emanations of panic extended so far! It seemed that surely you were not at home, and the ponies were frightened…” “Tell me more,” said Kantokusha, sternly. Yosuru blushed, and scratched at the grass with a hoof, only to blush worse at the needless injury to grass. She glanced up at Kantokusha, with almost a resentful look. “They were frightened. We rushed over to help, and the little ponies were running about in all directions, whinnying and crying. We did soothe them, and I’m not sorry, and they told us what had happened. Where were you?” “First tell me their story,” said Kantokusha, “and then I will tell you where I was.” Yosuru took a deep breath. Kawa, loyally, hugged her. She continued. “They told us a tale of this weird monster,” she said. “It had flown over the sea to attack their village. It flew in with multi-colored wings and a strange baggy body and a long tail that waved in the wind.” “Go on,” said Kantokusha, with the hint of a smirk. “Is this an evil dragon?” asked Yosuru. “Did you encounter it?” “Did my ponies tell you anything else?” “They did,” said Yosuru, truculently. “It emitted high pitched squeaks that caused ponies to fall over, stunned. It flies very fast, very very fast like the wind, while cursing and arguing loudly with itself. What?!” Kantokusha could not repress his laughter. Yosuru scowled fretfully at him, while he contained himself. “I’m sorry, Yosuru,” he said. “My ponies are so imaginative! But there’s a reason I am so protective of them, and so strict about interactions between them and your ponies of Kabochaebi. My ponies are artists and poets, and their minds roam wild and free even as their worlds are sheltered from harm.” Yosuru pouted. “Well, my ponies run wild too. And they sing songs!” “I’ve heard these songs,” chided Kantokusha. “My pegasus colt was the subject of not less than five of these songs, recounting his debaucheries in the most filthy manner.” “For which he is still, to this day, extremely proud,” replied Yosuru. “I happen to know he sought to return and inspire more songs, and you had to carry him off by his tail because he was frightening my pirate-ponies. And that’s what inspired the fifth song, which you are in.” “Don’t remind me," moaned Kantokusha. “And it only goes to show you, Yosuru, that even the gentlest and most civilized ponies can produce fierce and brave warriors… so you needn’t be so proud of the barely-tamed savagery of your ponies. I am proud of the serenity of mine. And you’re welcome, by the way, for me rescuing your ponies from my pegasus colt. You’ve never thanked me for that, and the whole way back to Taikutsuna he was crying and kicking my face most uncomfortably with his little hooves.” Yosuru’s eyes bugged out. “Really! Then I thank you, belatedly. Poor Kantokusha! I’m surprised you didn’t try to trade him to me for one of my pirate-ponies.” Kantokusha frowned. “You are joking. My ponies make songs about your ponies too, you know. Quite romantic but impractical songs. That is not a reasonable suggestion, my ponies would likely treat one of your pirates as a celebrity, which would undo much of Daiyam’s work with them.” Yosuru pouted. “Probably true.” Then her eyes widened. “I have become distracted! Kantokusha, what are we to do about the weird monster? Even now, it might be ravaging the countryside! Other ponies might be in danger. Our patrolling pegasi, even ones as brave as your debaucherous colt, could be injured or killed by a large evil monster!” “I have not told you who I was with,” said Kantokusha, coolly. “What has that to do with…” began Yosuru, and then calmed herself and looked expectantly at Kantokusha. “Very good,” said Kantokusha. “Don’t be hotheaded like your ponies. There is a perfectly good explanation for all this. I was away, because I was meditating with Daiyam.” “Daiyam!” exclaimed Kawa. “He was just here, to see the visiting Ponyville mare!” “Yes, he told me about her,” said Kantokusha. “Is it not natural that he’d want to visit such a peaceful and good pony town afterward? And of course I was honored to receive him, and at his invitation, we went off to a nearby mountaintop and meditated for a while.” “Did you catch the evil dragon?” pressed Yosuru. “There is no evil dragon,” said Kantokusha imperturbably. “Remember the nature of my ponies, Yosuru. I told you they were imaginative. There is something to be said for your ponies, you know. They have a resilience and aren’t easily frightened… or perhaps they’re so afraid of your pirate queen, whom I believe is not tame at all, that they have no fear for anything else. My ponies are better protected, and in the absence of real danger they imagine dangers for themselves. It is a sad but harmless consequence of how very well I take care of all their needs. I think if you forgot your ponies, or they faced some threat in your absence, they’d have a wonderful time fighting back and not think anything of it. My ponies are far more sensitive, and you caught them imagining things.” Yosuru had the hint of a sulky, truculent look again, for Kantokusha’s opinion of her ponies was not really flattering coming from him. “How do you know there was no dragon, or monster?” she objected. “Daiyam was still with me when I returned to Taikutsuna,” explained Kantokusha. “My ponies immediately told me of their experience. I may say that Daiyam praised your actions highly, perhaps over-highly, but you did seem to calm them. However, they remained convinced they’d seen a Weird Monster.” “And?” “Daiyam and I melded minds, and extended our sense for wickedness and evil,” said Kantokusha. “You may not think my wisdom and power is profound, but you must surely trust Daiyam. He is Kirin of all the south of Neighpon. Daiyam is certain that no evil monster passed our way. My ponies believed him, and were calmed.” Yosuru pouted. “They were already calmed, Kantokusha. Kawa and I saw to it.” “Very well, then,” said Kantokusha, “they were convinced? Convinced they had been imagining things. Honestly, Yosuru! How did you not tell them they were making up wild stories to frighten themselves? They’re little ponies, and can’t be trusted to think! Who could imagine a flying monster with different colored wings that stuns ponies with high pitched squeaks? And why would it curse and argue as it went? Surely this is a metaphorical image of pony contentiousness come alive in the imaginations of my poets.” Yosuru hesitated. “Or… hallucinations?” “Oh, we checked,” said Kantokusha sternly. “No, Yosuru. Your ponies have not been bottling nautical fixture-cleaning fluid and selling it to my ponies, again. Due to the colorful nature of their story, that was the first thing Daiyam and I checked. I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven your pirates for that one.” “They stopped right away!” protested Yosuru. “It’s been years!” “Only through the combined efforts of Daiyam and your own Kabochaebi,” scolded Kantokusha. “I do appreciate that: I hadn’t expected that from her. Your little pirate princess is totally mad, but does wish to be good. I hope that continues.” “Of course it does!” said Yosuru, defensively. “See that it does,” said Kantokusha. “I know from Daiyam that your town still requires a great deal of rice cider, though it is improving. Daiyam says he is trying to teach your ponies to drink tea, and not to put twelve teabags in and then bounce all over the town like a pink demon. Though he did say it was adorable, and I suppose it was.” “You still have those?” asked Yosuru, her ears perking up. “Pink demons? And of course it was adorable, Kantokusha. My ponies are still ponies. We love them dearly as they slowly return to their true natures. Talk to Daiyam again about that. But did you say you still have pink demons?” Kantokusha frowned. “It’s another metaphor, Yosuru. Daiyam didn’t say that, I was indulging my own poetic nature. They aren’t a real thing, they’re a metaphor for a pony bouncing around manically. Usually they are a symbol for sugar, not tea. They don’t exist, Yosuru. Daiyam has never seen one, nor I.” “I thought I did,” said Kawa, uncertainly. “They don’t seem to like Kabochaebi, we’ve had no sightings at all.” “Because they do not exist,” asserted Kantokusha. “So, are you satisfied? There’s no Weird Monster, either. I apologize for the distractions of my little ponies, and I thank you for making at least some efforts to soothe them.” “You’re welcome,” said Yosuru, her ears back. “And what about the pony who has come ashore and snuck away in the dead of night, like a spy, without greeting our ponies?” “I’d call that sensible,” said Kantokusha, “and no concern of mine. Good day!” Yosuru’s ears laid even further back at the unthinking insult to her ponies. Kantokusha didn’t deign to notice this. He turned decorously, flicked his tail, and trotted off into the sky on a gentle ramp made of magically-created mists. Yosuru and Kawa watched him go. After he was well out of sight, Yosuru heaved a great sigh. “So frustrating,” she said. “Breathe, Yosuru,” urged Kawa. “You’ve done well. I believe you may put more effort into achieving harmony with him and Taikutsuna than he does, for all his power and wisdom.” “Of course I do,” said Yosuru sourly. “He makes no effort at all. It’s a shame I can’t wake him up or get some humility into him, and I’m surprised Daiyam doesn’t see it.” “Don’t you trust Daiyam to know best?” said Kawa. “Daiyam brought you… me.” “I do,” grumbled Yosuru. “And I remain grateful for the help.” She turned, and gave her companion a little kiss. “Very well. There shall be harmony.” He hesitated, uncertain, scuffing the ground, and then he said, “Yosuru?” “Yes?” “Did you ask him about hallucinations for a reason, Yosuru?” At this, the older Kirin blushed. “Have you been…” “No, Kawa,” interrupted Yosuru, blushing brightly. “I have not been helping our ponies smuggle cleaning fluid into Taikutsana. No matter how funny it would be, or how richly Kantokusha would deserve it. Don’t be silly.” The younger Kirin held his ground. “I think you are missing a word.” “Am I?” “Why am I here, Yosuru? And before you fuss, I am grateful to be here, and I love you and enjoy your company. You and this town are a continuing education, and I owe it all to Daiyam’s wisdom. But I need a particular word from you, and you know what word that is.” Yosuru sighed. “Of course, dear one. Very well. I have not been helping our ponies smuggle cleaning fluid into Taikutsana… AGAIN.” “Thank you,” said Kawa. “I think I would know it if you did, but it means much to hear you say that.” “It’s only distilled rice cider, for goodness’ sake,” grumbled Yosuru. “If it didn’t worry you so much, I would still be drinking it myself.” “Yes, and the pirate ponies would still be competing with you,” said Kawa. “And that is an unhappy fate for a pony. They haven’t got your magic, and it’s an unfitting use for Kirin magic anyhow. Remember poor Bucket, who almost kept up with you that night!” “I know,” sighed Yosuru. “I was only trying to meet them on their level!” Kawa gave her a kiss in return. “Dearest Yosuru, I am sure they love you the best of all Kirin. And the reason is, you succeeded. Please be patient and gentle while we all lead them and you back to pony sweetness and love. I am personally convinced we would have lost this town if not for you… but some things are right for a time, and only for a time.” “Yes,” said Yosuru reflectively. She contemplated for a moment, and then looked sidelong at him. “I was cross with Kantokusha for being ungrateful. When we helped soothe his ponies, this morning.” “Yes,” said Kawa. “I’m more grateful than that. Thank you again for rescuing me from Kabochaebi, Kawa. Between you and Daiyam, it made everything all right.” Kawa grinned wryly. “Yikes! I shall never forget that day. It is another reason for you to be good, Yosuru: never again do naughty things with the pirate ponies, when the pirate queen has resolved that they will all be good. I feared for her.” “I would never have hurt her!” “She needed to have faith in her pirate crew,” said Kawa, “my worry was that she’d lose her balance. But she is only a pony, and a strange little mare besides: I think she expected them to purely obey her and follow her lead. It is a lesson in following the pattern of good that Kirin like Daiyam try to teach us: none of us see all of the pattern at once. Yet I believe that the ponies of Kabochaebi would not have stayed good, if they hadn’t been able to relate to you, as you… er… went native?” “As the Pirate Kirin of Kabochaebi Bay?” teased Yosuru. He winced. “Shush, please, dearest! You know Daiyam swore me to secrecy. I am still amazed it worked.” Yosuru hugged him. “Of course it did. And really, partying with the ponies is not all that terribly wicked, though I suppose some of the pranks crossed a line, especially with Kantokusha who still frustrates me. But I was reminded of goodness and our higher purpose by Daiyam… and little Kabochaebi, how she raged at my transgressions… and by you.” Kawa sighed. “I have to trust that pattern. I wonder if Daiyam sees it whole, or if he frets as I do?” Yosuru gazed into his eyes, serenely. “Of course not. To both questions… I don’t see the pattern either. But we’ve helped Taikutsuna without mischief, and I’ve been kind to Kantokusha even though he doesn’t care for us, and from where I stand, I trust the pattern we weave as much as Daiyam does. And I can sense that he trusts it with all of his life, yet I am sure he too accepts its deep mystery.” “Yes,” sighed Kawa. “It is all of that.” “Come, Kawa,” said Yosuru. “Let us go home, and cuddle. All is well. Though I am still very curious about this Sneaking Spy!” “And the Weird Monster,” suggested Kawa, “and, I suppose, the Pink Demons?” “Of course,” said Yosuru. “But we can go chase those tomorrow.” Kawa blinked. “What?” Yosuru giggled. “Well, Kantokusha was right about one thing: our town can look after itself without us! Tomorrow we’ll set out to see what’s happening in Neighpon.” Quietly, nuzzling each other, the Kirin headed off to snuggle and restore their serenities together. Further north, and later that evening, a lot was happening. Octavia had performed, and DJ Pon-3 was in the house (or, rather, on the hillside), and she’d come up with some kind of new throb that was driving the crowd of dancing ponies berserk. A group of unicorns had gathered at the front of the stage, and were producing flashy light displays from their horns. DJ Pon-3 had frowned at this at first, but then she seemed to take it as a challenge—and with a wicked little grin she amped up the energy of her mix until the hapless unicorns were going off like visual explosions. Some had passed out, only to be dragged off and cuddled by other ponies by the side of the impromptu stage. Big Macintosh danced a galumphing dance, at the center of the festivities. His work was done for the evening. A few careful inquiries had told him that Hina-rin didn’t live in this town: there were apparently all of three Kirin, and everypony seemed to be extremely smug about the wonderfulness of their Kirin in their charming lakeside village. Big Macintosh supposed that was fine. The Kirin didn’t seem to be in evidence, but there seemed no need for them: for such an out-of-control DJ set, everything seemed very well in control. And so, Big Macintosh galumphed about in the middle of a fascinated ring of mares plus a few stallions, having a grand old time despite his longing for Hina. She wasn’t in this town, so… more practice? He cast an increasingly practiced eye across the collected mares, wondering what awaited him later that evening. If he was any judge, Neighponnese horny mares didn’t leave you wondering. One of them… or perhaps several of them? …would surely drag off the Ponyville stranger to her bedroom. As DJ Pon-3’s set worked itself into a bass frenzy, Big Macintosh prepared himself to be pony pounced. The bass pounded its way to a final crescendo. The unicorns in front of the stage concentrated, melding themselves with the music. DJ Pon-3 smirked with delighted wickedness… and hit a last breakdown with a thundering crash, while leaving the first turntable at full volume and twirling it up to absurd pitch with her hoof, producing an effect like a techno explosion in the brain. All the unicorns shrieked in excitement and seemed to explode in light, mostly following the accelerating surge of wild synthesizers on the fast turntable, but also reacting to the huge final beat on the other turntable. All the unicorns fainted dead away, to be cuddled and praised by fellow ponies. The night became dark, with only the ebbing electronic purrs of DJ Pon-3’s mighty decks, and the dim view of the little expatriate unicorn, head bowed, bass drops spent. Her shades glinted faintly in the night. The applause was like a force of nature… at first, the silence of shock, and then the building cheer, and DJ Pon-3 lifted her head and looked out upon her people, a sea of madly grinning pony faces, drenched in sweat. “Take care of those unicorns, okay?” said DJ Pon-3. “Even if they couldn’t keep up. Good night, everypony.” She staggered as she walked away from the decks, herself drained to the limit, but Octavia was right there to catch her and the two made their way backstage amidst a tsunami of cheering. Big Macintosh blinked. While he’d been watching his employers, he’d been surrounded. No… mobbed, by mares. Eager, hungry-looking mares, with a scent of clean sweat and very dirty-minded personal bits. So, just about the best scent ever. Mostly earth ponies, a couple pegasi, no unicorns of course as they were all spent… No, there was one unicorn, a tiny one. Other ponies seemed to look down at her, gasp, and make way. A very determined tiny little unicorn, by proportions not a filly, but still rather lost in the crowd. What was she after? She made a beeline for Big Macintosh, other ponies moving hastily out of her way and pretending they’d just remembered important appointments. “You!” she cried, delightedly. “You’re magnificent!” “Uhh… thanks?” said Big Macintosh. “Come with me!” announced the diminutive unicorn. “I am Yutakana! I am excited to meet you!” Big Macintosh blinked. The crowd seemed to be giggling, shaking their heads, amused. He looked around in perplexity. The expressions around him were hard to interpret. It wasn’t all amusement: a few faces looked worried, some looked angry and frustrated. One of the latter mares cried, “No, Yutakana, share!” The tiny unicorn whirled. “After all I do for you? Mikaitaku! Behave!” It seemed to be a persuasive argument. Big Macintosh found himself standing with the tiny mare, as all the other ponies wandered off to party elsewhere. He gazed down at Yutakana, perplexed. She gazed up at him, triumphantly, and the look in her eyes was parades and brass fanfares. “Yay!” she said, her hocks quivering. “Y’think?” said Big Macintosh, wrinkling his brow. “Come with me! I am very important! And you are very exciting!” she announced. Without another word, she turned and began trotting away, down the hill. Big Macintosh followed, and his nostrils flared. In the moonlight, he could see that little feisty Yutakana was drippingly aroused, winking at him with every third step or so. It seemed his decision had been made for him, though it seemed a strange and perhaps alarming decision. Yutakana didn’t even slow down. She nearly galloped all the way to the lakeside, and trotted well out onto the beach. Following, Big Macintosh wondered if she meant to enjoy a romantic evening with the moon reflecting off the water. She turned her head. She was a pale minty green, with vivid emerald eyes well used to command, and Big Macintosh took in everything about her from her high and mighty chin to her curiously long horn to the roundness of her disturbingly dainty rump… and the explosion in an ooze factory that made her vulva, the insides of her rump-cheeks, and the insides of her legs glisten wetly in the moonlight from her heedless galloping. “I want you to push your cock all the way into me, as hard as you possibly can,” ordered Yutakana. Big Macintosh blinked. “Ma’am, that ain’t nice to do to a mare. I have a… uhhh, I knew a fella who taught me how to please a mare, and it ain’t about that, honest it ain’t.” “Yes it is,” retorted Yutakana. “It ain’t! Am I missin’ somethin’ here? Dang it, miss, look at me!” “Yay!” squeed the tiny unicorn, doing just that. “Naw, Ah’m serious!” protested Big Macintosh. “I am a big pony and I’m gittin’ excited and you’re gonna be dealin’ with a big ol’ horsecock that… dern it, I’m not helping things, am I?” Yutakana swayed, drooling, her eyes fevered and locked on Big Macintosh’s massive cock as it swelled and swung forward at her. Nothing in her manner suggested any sort of caution. She trembled with obvious desire, if that wasn’t already too feeble a word to express her ravenousness. “I want you to push THAT into me, all the way, as HARD as you POSSIBLY CAN,” clarified Yutakana. She stamped a forehoof in the moonlit beach sand, and then wobbled, overcome with lust. Big Macintosh gulped, looking at her pert little pussy. “Okay, um, language check ma’am? Do you p’raps mean, ya want me to GIT as hard as I possibly can, and then fill you up nice? Uh, always assumin’ it even fits…” Yutakana gave a little shriek. “Aaaah! Language check, yes. I want you to put your cock in me, and push forward until there is no room, and then push forward more with all the strength of your body. I want all of the pressure ever! All of the cock pressure pushing deeper into me, AHHH! Now, now!” “Well jes’ a moment,” objected Big Macintosh, his ears back. “First of all that’s gosh dern crazy, look at th’ size of me…” “Yay!” “Aw, shut up with that!” blurted Big Macintosh. “And second of all look at the size of you! How am I supposed to mount on you, ain’t no way you can support my weight or nothin’, and if I do like what you’re askin’ I’ll just fall over on my face from pushin’ you down under my nuts!” This stopped the manic pixie pony. She frowned, wrinkling her brow, and then brightened. “Sit down on your rump! You will pull me down onto yourself, with all of your strength!” Big Macintosh regarded her in disbelief. “It’s almost like you done this dance before, ma’am.” “Of course I have done this before!” squealed Yutakana, fretfully. “Why are you waiting?” “Is this a magic thing?” pressed Big Macintosh, still staring at the lust-maddened, tiny, lube-soaked unicorn mare. “It is the most magic thing!” “Then what’s th’ magic word?” said Big Macintosh, sitting back onto his rump and crossing his forelegs. “Whee!” cried Yutakana, trying to trot backwards. “Uht!” A hoof met her petite rump and blocked her. “The other magic word,” demanded Big Macintosh, his ears plastered back in disconcerted amazement. It only took her a moment. “PLEASE!” cried Yutakana happily. “Please shove that cock all the way into me and then grab on and pull me farther onto it until the magic happens!” Big Macintosh’s ears couldn’t possibly lay any farther back. But, at the same time, he had never seen or even imagined a mare of any size or shape being this enthusiastic or this confident. “Must be some kinda magic,” he muttered. “Eeee! Ee! Ee!” squeed Yutakana, and her horn began to glitter and ooze magic much as her vagina oozed slippery lube. “All right, sugarcube,” sighed Big Macintosh. “Let’s see what ya got.” His eyes bugged out, as he learned. Yutakana lunged back at his rapidly hardening erection, her itty-bitty rump-cheeks quivering with desire, and indeed she seemed well-practiced, for she landed with his cock dead-centered across her diminutive vulva. Big Macintosh had just one moment to realize that, no, the dainty unicorn was not built with a massive cavernous vagina, that indeed he wasn’t exactly going to fit. Then, with a warrior shriek, Yutakana had shoved back onto him, with a sharp prying sensation and a feeling like corking a bottle… and his flare was inside her, swelling up quick as a wink until it could not be withdrawn. “Dang! You okay, ma’am?” “NggARRRGH!” howled Yutakana. “Jes’ a moment, I’ll… well dang…” Big Macintosh’s eyes crossed. The tiny pale-mint unicorn was in fact shoving herself backwards onto him with all her strength. He could feel his throbbing cock, trapped in cramped confines, sliding through strained, slick mareflesh. She was considerably deeper than he expected. Her depths felt odd, but amazing. The compression was astonishing inside the petite, frantic mare. Tenderly, he wrapped his forelegs around her fiercely shaking body, seeing sparks come off her horn as if it was a fuse. “Th’ magic?” Her eyes were squeezed tight shut, tears leaking from them, her teeth gritted. “MORE!” she squealed. “ALL!” “You’re sure about this magic?” Yutakana just wrapped her own forelegs around his, clenched her dainty rump against his cockbase, and howled like a timberwolf. Big Macintosh shrugged… and did as he was told. He could feel her heart pounding as his forelegs tightened against her. At first gently, and then with increasing power, he wrapped himself around his petite lover, and thrust deeper and deeper into her with all the strength of his mighty back, all the clutch of his powerful forelegs. As he did, he saw the magic she’d talked about. Yutakana’s heart-rate seemed to explode, hammering like a rabid chipmunk as Big Macintosh’s cock took up all the elasticity inside her and kept pushing. She had just enough breath to begin to shriek, and then as soon as Big Macintosh impaled her beyond that point, as soon as there was no more space for the little unicorn mare to give and her lover’s hardness demanded more and more and MORE, that was when Big Macintosh had to strain her even more tightly to his massive chest, for Yutakana thrashed in his grip as if having a seizure, just for an instant. Then, a thick gout of horngasm blasted violently from her horn, as an expression of anguished ecstacy came to her face. She screamed a croaking yowl of breathless orgiastic release, painful but epic sounding. Big Macintosh twisted his face away from the magic inferno he was causing, holding her body tightly against the thrashing and spasms. It wouldn’t stop! Awed, he squinted against the glare. She couldn’t even cry out any more. She only shook in his tight embrace, her body wildly alive against him, spasming on and on in impossibly intense orgasm, and her horn gushing magic in torrents out into the middle of the lake. Was this the secret? He’d never heard of anything like this. His cock throbbed, painfully, locked in its tiny prison. Yutakana drew half a breath, and keened, fevered, still blasting magic unceasingly. Big Macintosh nuzzled her mane trustingly, squeezed his eyes shut, and went to finish her off by dragging her down onto his cock with his full strength, just as she’d repeatedly asked him to do. Her little body went absolutely rigid. Her hoarse squall went instantly up in pitch to a supersonic shriek. The orgasms ravaging her turned to a state of unyielding, full clench, like they’d stacked upon themselves to produce a single unbearable peak. The glare against his eyelids became impossibly bright, a continuing explosion of horngasm into the receptive lake, like he was inside the heart of a star, with other stars circling and swooping before his eyes as little Yutakana hit her ultimate climax… A hoof cracked him across the skull, and his eyes flew open and he released his fierce grip. “Don’t pull out!” demanded a voice. “Don’t even move! Hold still, don’t speak!” “Aw horseapples, am Ah under arrest?” wailed Big Macintosh. He looked around frantically. The town’s three Kirin were in evidence. They were fat and sleek and seemed to be bursting with energy. He began to realize why. He looked down at the tiny unicorn he held in his forelegs. Yutakana appeared to be smouldering. Her horn seemed partly burned away. Her tongue hung out, and her eyes were rolled back in her head, and he’d never seen such a sated, sex-ravaged unicorn. He glanced around at the angry Kirin. No, not just angry… worried, desperately worried. “She done asked for this,” said Big Macintosh. “She said she had magic that would protect her.” “Yes,” said one of the Kirin curtly. “Us.” There seemed little to add to that. Big Macintosh watched as the Kirin consulted, very rapidly, with flashes of magic between them. “Do NOT pull out. We’ll control that. This may feel strange,” ordered another Kirin. “Yessir,” replied Big Macintosh. “Whatever you need, all you gotta do is ask… aw SWEET Celestia!” The beams of magic locked onto little Yutakana and she shuddered in his forelegs, and immediately he felt her vagina contract and crush his still-hard penis back onto itself. The vise-like grip she’d had before was nothing compared to this. It was agonizing, but he gritted his teeth, because he felt it was possible the magical Kirin were doing it for a reason, and if they could fix her pussy from sex-related damages, they might spare a thought for his dick. One spoke. “There is a thing called a cock ring. Our apologies, our Yutakana is also a cock ring. Don’t tense or swell yourself, and endure it.” “Yessir… eeeeeff! rrrg! whatever ya… arrgh! need!” “Hurts, does it?” “Jes’ a bit!” “So did she,” retorted the Kirin, sweating and concentrating. Big Macintosh fell silent. His lip quivered, even as he winced from the torturous treatment he was receiving. “She LIKED it!” he protested, finally, as his stiffened cock began to emerge from its cramped confines. “It wasn’t for you,” said a Kirin. He glanced at the others, both also males. “We must blame ourselves. But it did not occur to us that so large a horse would come to tempt her.” “Or so unwise,” added another. “The townsponies all know they mustn’t let her push them around,” said the third. “We do blame ourselves. She is headstrong and should only do this when…” He caught the urgent glances of the others. “She should not do this,” concluded the third, blushing slightly. “Naughty Yutakana.” Big Macintosh was blushing as well, but his mouth was a hard line. “That so? Never, huh? Not for the naughty lil’ bitty unicorn?” The first Kirin hesitated, and then said, “It’s private. She’s very important. If it helps, she is normally more well cared for. She is safe. Healing, monitoring, is on hoof for her. You weren’t to know about her ways. We blame ourselves.” Big Macintosh looked truculently back and forth between the sleek, fat Kirin bursting with magic. It didn’t trouble him that he’d laid a wildly promiscuous mare. What troubled him was simpler. “Kin I ask you one thing? An’ then I better go. I think I know enough, fellas. Thanks for th’ warning you din’t give me. I would jes’ like to do one more thing if y’all would be so good.” The Kirin looked at each other. “What thing is this?” said one. “Did ya heal her up? Like, is she fine, other than bein’ stunned outta her silly mind from foolish over-fuckin’?” “We did heal her,” said the Kirin. “Please tell us exactly what you’re proposing to do.” Big Macintosh lifted his chin. “This.” He stepped forward, lifted up the dainty little unicorn’s fevered, trembling body, and gave her a big firm farm-pony hug, tears leaking from his eyes. He nuzzled the side of her cheek, to which she responded with a cute little coo, then a snore. He kissed her, bowing his head. “Thankee, ma’am. Be good. An’ don’t play too rough! Sleep happy, now, and get back to them as understand you best.” The Kirin didn’t say a word as Big Macintosh laid his tiny lover down comfortably on the beach, with great care not to wake her… though from the look and feel of her, it’d take a party cannon to wake her. He rose, looking down on her as she slept. He looked at the three Kirin. “Gentlemen,” said Big Macintosh, and walked solemnly away, leaving them to attend their special little unicorn without him. And he walked with a steady tread all the way back to where they’d made camp, complete with their tent. Vinyl wasn’t in it, but Octavia was, sleeping. And Big Macintosh crawled into his sleeping bag, wrapped it around his head, and gave way to silent, torrential weeping, his massive body shaking almost as fiercely as his tiny lover’s had been. Guilt, desire, longing all tangled within him. Worst of all, he hadn’t even got off, and couldn’t tell for the life of him whether that was good or bad. He sobbed, trying to make no sound, uttering not a word… except for one, anguished, yearning plea that called out toward he knew not where. “Hina…” Braeburn skulked through the dark. He stuck mainly to bushes and natural cover, but the derned country seemed full of lovely little meadows he had to cross. At least they seemed like they must be lovely, even though he could see them only by moonlight. His ear twitched, for the countryside wasn’t entirely empty, even in the darkest night. Hunters of the night were out: he was pretty sure he heard an owl swooping in the distance. Or… maybe not as distant as all th… what the? In a rush of near-silent wings, she was upon him, slamming him to the grass and pinning him down. “Do not try to escape! I will question you, strange sneaking horse!” She was a gray pegasus, with even her eyes a pale gray, though the moonlight did play tricks with his vision. Gasping for breath, Braeburn stammered, “What the buck are you, a pegasus or an owl?” “Yes!” she exulted. “I am Fukuro, the owl warrior, and you are my prisoner!” “If ya say so,” retorted Braeburn, and then blinked. “Say that again? Fuck-uro?” “The owl pegasus warrior!” boasted the grey mare. “Famous for my hunting abilities, which have captured another never-do-well!” “Th’ hell I don’t!” “What?” she said. Braeburn grinned up at her. “Happens I do very well. Very well indeed, Miss Fuck-you’re-sexy. How about I demonstrate?” Straddling him, Fukuro frowned down, her brow wrinkling. “Do you propose to enter captivity by sexually rewarding your captor? Your idea of submission to my authority is pleasuring me? Is that it?” “Yes!” said Braeburn, with conviction. Fukuro squeed. “Yay! Best prisoner all week. Let’s go over to those trees, there’s a bed of soft moss we can use!” Braeburn grinned. “Now you’re talkin’. So, are you gonna let me up? I do my best movin’ with, y’know, freedom of motion. I suppose you kin do that, because it ain’t no use for me to run away as fast as I kin?” Fukuro beamed happily at him. “No use at all! My wings are swift, silent and sure. You cannot escape, so let’s go over there and have some fun and then you can be my prisoner and there’s delicious fermented bean soup for breakfast. Yay, how wonderful I captured you!” Braeburn’s grin didn’t waver, though his ears went back at the Neighponnese mare’s ideas of a good breakfast. “You go on thinkin’ that. I promise I won’t touch them wings, now let me up and I’ll give you a night you won’t soon forget.” “Oh, no!” “What?” said Braeburn. “Don’t skip the wings! That’s the best part!” protested Fukuro. “Why are you so mean?” “Because you probably don’t want no wild cowpony foal,” said Braeburn. “Trust me, I’ve made one. An’ even if she is a gosh dern amazin’ filly, an’ beautiful as the sunrise over the prairie, an’ even more feisty than her moth…” He coughed, for there seemed to be a lump in his throat. “Dammit! I don’t want to tell you no more. Don’t you understand that foolin’ with your wings could make you pregnant? I’m jes’ sayin’ maybe you’d prefer a cowpony ride for the sport of it.” She blinked those big grey eyes. “This is Neighpon. I am a pegasus warrior. The Kirin have taken care of that. Where do you come from, that your pegasus mares can’t enjoy their bodies?” “Ain’t tellin’,” said Braeburn. “Let me get this straight. You want to go over there, to a bed of moss… an’ screw you until you’re a puddle of feathers… AND touch your wings? Are you serious?” “Yes!” replied Fukuro, with conviction. For a moment, Braeburn was speechless. Finally, he said, “I’mma be holdin’ you close with my forelegs, just so’s you understand. By touch your wings, you mean I should open my mouth and do it the way a boy pegasus would make you pregnant? If not for them Kirin, I mean?” “Of course,” said Fukuro. “And then I’ll take you home and we’ll sleep together so it will alert me if you try to escape, and in the morning I’ll make you soup and maybe you can do it all over again, if you’re good.” Braeburn’s ears were back. “Ah don’t believe there’s much argument, ma’am. About me bein’ good, that is. I… huh. Hmph!” “Why do you look so cross?” asked Fukuro. “Is it because you’ve been captured by a girl? Don’t be sad. I am the silent huntress, and none escape me.” “Naw,” said Braeburn. “It jes’ seems like cheatin’, that’s all.” “Huh?” “You ever heard of a Princess, miss Fuckin’-sexy-pony?” said Braeburn. “Is that a thing, to you?” “Isn’t it a kind of pony in Western lands?” Braeburn winced. “That’s as may be. Well… Ah go to my fate now, miss. Just remember, I’m doing this for my Princess.” “I’m sure she will approve of you being a good prisoner,” soothed Fukuro, letting him up. “You keep usin’ that word,” said Braeburn. “C’mon over there. I do believe soon you’ll be callin’ me great.” “Oh, yes!” cooed Fukuro, her wings fluttering in excitement. “Now make love to me nicely, sexy prisoner!” Braeburn straddled her fine, toned rump, and was grateful she couldn’t see the expression on his face. It was one thing to cope with her attitude, behaving as if she was gonna teach him, Braeburn, how to fuck. His ears were well back, while she wasn’t looking. It riled him up more than he could credit. Didn’t she know who he was? But of course, she didn’t. That was part of it. The other part was this: he’d given that pony rump one, just ONE good ol’ mare-settlin’ bite to make her hold still, and the next thing he knew there was a whirl of feathers and a hoof comin’ at him and BAM! He was out cold. When he opened his eyes, Fukuro was right there kissing him, licking the place on his noggin where she’d socked him. But not to say she was sorry, oh no! Instead, she said “Now be a good pony, or I’ll knock you out again and again until you learn or you stop waking up ever again!” He’d gulped. She meant every word. He’d asked, “You still want a fuckin’?” and she’d said, “Now you owe me two.” All righty then. Braeburn straddled her fine, toned rump. One thing about it, he thought: at least it wasn’t no hardship. Maybe it was her unusual level of pegasus fluff, but Fukuro combined healthy fitness with a soft, plushy quality that was incredibly feminine. Her butt was shapely like no pegasus he’d been on since Fluttershy, her winking exposed a silky pinkness that got him going real nice, and apart from the unstallionly weakness he was forced to be in, it looked like a mighty fine evening to be having. Pretending that her quivering readiness was because he’d made her submit, Braeburn pressed his hips forward, and felt his mare shudder in his embrace. This, at least, wasn’t different. He’d always professed that careless fuckin’ was rude and an insult to the name of pleasure, especially when you were hung like such as him… and so, his entry always took it nice and easy. It felt better to all involved. Why get a mare submissive as a puddle, only to splash it and not have a puddle no more? His ears perked, and he warned himself to be careful. Fukuro was no puddle… not yet. He was greeted not with those shakes and the renewed passiveness, that moment of oh-my-gosh where his mare couldn’t quite believe her luck… nope, the owl-pony warrior was more active. With a series of moans, she tensed and bore down on him, only to ease up and allow more of his erection to press into her. “That’s good!” she moaned. “That feels good!” Y’think? thought Braeburn, and then caught himself: he’d been about to deal her a jab, and wasn’t sure if it would get him another hoof to the head. He quickly reconsidered. Logically, what he proposed to do would work just fine even if he was real soft with her, as if she was… Braeburn winced, and put the thought out of his mind, but kept the intention. It was for a good cause. He’d make love to this fluffy pegasus like she was the only pony in the world for him, or at least he’d restrict his range of tricks and leave out everything dominant. He reckoned that when he went to the final stage, it wouldn’t matter. And who knew? Maybe it’d be fun. Fukuro squirmed, panting, as Braeburn slid to full penetration, expertly drawing up short of poking her insides. Her eyes rolled back in her head a little. It was so huge, yet the stallion was so tender with it! Surely he was a great discovery. She gritted her teeth as he tugged half his length out of her in a firm, steady motion, and squeed a little squee of glee as he slid back to fill her completely. “I will keep you forever!” squeed Fukuro. “Don’t forget the wings!” As if, thought Braeburn, and got to work making love like his life depended on it. It sort of did, in a sense: while it was a rare and unusual pleasure to fuck this proud, powerful pegasus mare and feel her wriggling and active underneath him, fucking him back in a way he rarely experienced, he really couldn’t be trapped with her forever. There was good fucking, and then there was the call of his heart, and it would not be denied. All the more since he was channeling his feelings for his beloved Princess into this strange though undeniably sexy mare… he set up an insistent, exploratory motion and nestled his head against her neck, for all the world like she was Big Macintosh, like he longed to feel every heartbeat and savor every quiver. What he got was worth savoring, all the same. “Oh it’s GOOD!” cried out Fukuro, her sweet mare voice a poem of grateful delight. “So good! I love you, sexy prisoner, do it just like that!” He felt her vagina gripping him, but much like his motions it wasn’t with harshness: it really was a new sort of thing, and his ears perked further as he experienced it. He had a healthy respect for the power of the mare pussy and much of his loving dominance routine was geared to making sure she didn’t get bitey in there: Braeburn was comfortable with mares so melted they could barely stand, but he didn’t trust an interplay when it came to fucking. Now, he was forced to accept one, and to his surprise found it good. He moved with a compliant thoughtfulness, sensing how things stood moment by moment: Fukuro melted and accepted him, then got excited and wriggled and bore down to restrict him, only to cry out in pleasure and arch her neck and relax again, to be plumbed to her depths when she was ready for it. It came and went like ocean waves, a whole mighty swelling that was bigger than both of them. Braeburn’s ears quirked extra hard at that thought, but there was no mistaking it. The idea rocked him. On the other hand, Fukuro seemed completely happy with it. She wouldn’t let him become the ocean all by himself, but she let his waves build along with hers, giddy with the ecstacy of it. “I will share you with ALL my friends!” she cried. “YES, wonderful prisoner horse! Yes!” That was interesting, thought Braeburn… but he had only a moment for the thought, because her pussy was powerful and excited and she’d gripped onto him again with a glorious scrunch, and he instinctively understood how to match her ebullient heaving pressure with his own powerful confined shifting: while they were tied into a knot of each other, Braeburn hugged her tighter and used the strength of his hips to get little motions through in spite of her clench. He could feel in the hammering of her loving heart, the bolt erectness of her fluffy wings, that this was ringing all her bells, and as she kept on bearing down, he kept on firmly bearing her up to the orgasmic skies on wings of massive outlaw cowpony horsecock… Braeburn blinked. Wings, y’say? Without switching gears, without altering the tone and feel of his lovemaking in the least, he courteously bent his neck and closed his mouth around the base of Fukuro’s wing. Her eyes flew wide open, and with a convulsive shudder, Fukuro melted away completely, her pussy unclenching as if it had turned to jelly at a stroke and gotten a few inches deeper from sheer willingness. She stared out at the quiet Neighpon night, stunned into awe, a mare volcano on the brink of eruption. “I will share you with all the world…” she vowed, like a prayer. And then, Braeburn began to make love: not at her, but with her, just as he had been doing. His hips did not pound, his cock did not plunge, though from the squelching sounds it seemed like it had: and his jaws did not gnaw or bite controllingly. Instead, the outlaw stallion bent his head and worked his hips and simply rode along, matching the eruption and becoming part of it, a true partner right to the climax. Fukuro squealed breathlessly, her body juddering and shaking: the power of her mare vagina wasn’t directed at fierce clenching anymore. Neither was she melting into a formless puddle inside—to Braeburn, it felt as if mighty forces were thundering around inside her, orgasmic explosions going off, and it was those aftershocks that he felt surging and thumping against his stiffened cock. He, in turn, allowed the energies to buoy him, and as he neared his own climax, his strength spent itself in bold, deep, joyous thrusts, convulsive hugs that strained her body to him, and happy chewing of that fluffy, wriggling wing. Every time he bore down on it, Fukuro melted a little more, but her frenzy also arced higher and her pussy churned harder with exquisite spasms… “NNNghh!” Fukuro’s eyes flew wide in astonishment… and she went totally limp, barely able to stand, as Braeburn chomped down hard and thrust deep, swelling up more than she could believe. And her ears laid back, more and more, her eyes going out of focus, while he held that pose and somehow withheld his release, somehow did not unload even as roaring filled her ears and her orgasms flared up into an impossible eruption that turned her brain into an exploding white-out of pleasure, balanced on that brink with a super-stallion seemingly bursting her delighted pussy with pure rock-like hardness that throbbed inside her even as her body melted down in hyper-fast spasms that accelerated and didn’t stop… “Ghhh!” grunted Braeburn, as his jaws crunched her wing still harder while his own peak finally hit. “EEEEEE!” howled Fukuro, as Braeburn unloaded into her, a stallion cannon-blast. She reeled, her mind a confetti of orgasmic sensations, and she staggered but it seemed he was right there with her, and she spasmed and wailed incoherently and it seemed to go on and on, because even after he’d drenched her with stallion-come, it was like he didn’t let up, like he was keeping himself hard and continuing to move in there and wrench her wing lovingly around… and it did feel loving, and that kept her going and going, the moment persisting longer than she could even imagine, her orgasms stretching on and on, and even when her body tired, the stallion teeth giving her wing a thorough work-over couldn’t let her rest, and even when her churns and spasms gave way to feeble twitches the horsecock held mostly firm somehow and her lover persisted, now matching her energy level but carrying her now, the tender gnawings and gentle nudges sustaining her for just one… more… moment… Braeburn loosened his jaws, panting. The frizzled-out pegasus wing between his teeth flopped bonelessly to the bed of moss beneath them. It sure was soft. That seemed… good. He got up, and gazed down at his victory. Fukuro lay, tongue hanging out, a foolish and huge grin on her face, her eyes staring at nothing. She blinked, or tried to, and her eyelid moved at about half speed, and then wouldn’t lift back up, and she peered sort of near him, from sultry, heavily-lidded eyes. “How… ‘bout a bargain,” panted Braeburn. “Never mind all the world… you’re gonna give me to jes’ one special somepony. And he ain’t here. But I’m gonna find him.” Fukuro tried to twitch an ear. Nothing happened. A breeze passed over her, and she quivered from one more orgasm, and melted even more thoroughly into the soft moss. Then she felt something else… the prisoner, except he obviously wasn’t going to remain her prisoner, was bending over her. And she emitted little squeaks and coos, involuntary cries, as he adjusted her boneless sprawl to be more comfortable. Were those tears in his eyes? He looked happy and sad at the same time. She orgasmed five times as he straightened and settled her wings. It would have been twice, except he tried to preen her feathers. He was terrible at it, and by the time he stopped, she knew the only other thing she’d be able to do that night was sleep. She fought to keep her eyes even half-open, though she no longer knew what she wanted to do about him: it was enough just to continue seeing him for a few more seconds. Braeburn bent to gaze into her dreamy eyes, and his own did glisten a little. “Ah learned somethin’,” he told her. “Thank you.” He kissed her nose, and her eyes slowly sagged and closed, and the last thing she saw was his sad, brave, romantic smile. Two By Two“That was AWESOME!” squeed Rainbow Dash. Flight Lightning rolled her eyes, grinning. “I think we’ve got a new secret weapon, Dash. Sweetie Belle, how did you think of all that stuff?” “Please, be quieter!” begged Sweetie. “I’ll tell you if you just don’t make so much noise, okay?” The four ponies lurked in a little wooded valley, a nook among the tastefully sculpted hillsides that seemed somewhat overlooked. Perhaps it was just the way the trees formed picturesque horizons all around it, but their refuge seemed positively strange for its relative un-groomedness. The ponies who’d made all of Neighpon an exquisite garden, had skipped this part. Scootaloo, hugging Sweetie, glared at her mom and her idol, respectively. “Yeah, since when did the kids have to be grown-ups and the grownups turn into kids? What’s the big deal?” Rainbow Dash reached over and tousled Scootaloo’s mane. “Since we got to know how awesome you and Sweetie really are, that’s when. Kid, my ass… you’re a full-on part of the team… ‘kid’.” Scootaloo made a little subdued whinny of delight, then controlled herself. “Well then, my question stands. Sweetie says this place is dangerous. Why are you goofing around?” “We’re dangerous too,” boasted Rainbow Dash. “And completely badass. Holy crap, Scootaloo, I was carrying Sweetie on my back all this time and how come I never knew she had, like, the squeak of death?” Scootaloo winced, as Sweetie blushed scarlet. “Maybe you just didn’t catch her at the right moment!” griped the pegasus filly. “I didn’t know it would work, but we were desperate. Do you think it KILLED those ponies? That’s horrible!” Already scarlet, Sweetie Belle burst into overwhelmed tears, and both adult ponies turned to helping Scootaloo comfort her. “There, there, kiddo,” soothed Rainbow Dash. “Of course it didn’t. Who said that? It’s just like the flower ponies, you know? You didn’t hurt them. You just made them fall over.” “Something else,” said Flight Lightning, sternly. “Settle down, girls! I understand this is very exciting, but it’s only a different country. Ponies are ponies everywhere you go, and I don’t want you making up stories and behaving like this is some crazy dangerous place. It can’t be that bad. Now that we’re somewhere that we can talk, I’d like to hear more about how Sweetie knows all these things. You were right about the monster costume, Sweetie, and that’s amazing. How did you know it would be there?” Sweetie sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of a hoof. “Haven’t you read about Neighpon?” Three pegasi looked at each other. “Flying’s more my jam,” said Rainbow Dash, as Flight Lightning nodded. “How about you pretend we’ve never read about Neighpon? I mean, one of the Daring Do books was in Neighpon, but I figured that was all bullshit. I mean, awesome and exciting and my favorite, but you know they’re stories, right? They don’t really have insane pegasus warriors. They’re ponies like us, right Flight Lightning?” “Let her answer,” advised Flight Lightning. Sweetie sniffled again. “No, they do. I never read that Daring Do book, but it’s real. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Dash’s eyes widened. “Maybe you should tell us again, then,” she said. “What exactly have we gotten ourselves into, here?” Flight Lightning’s eyes narrowed. “Sweetie Belle? How come you’re shaking? Out with it, now!” Her jaw dropped, as did Dash’s. Sweetie crumbled where she stood, curling into a little ball of trembling filly, and Scootaloo wrapped herself around her fillyfriend faithfully and glared at the adults. “NOT helping!” “Oh be quiet Scootaloo be quiet please please quiet!” begged Sweetie, almost incoherently. Dash and Flight Lightning exchanged a glance, and then they settled to the ground to either side of the younger ponies, secluded in the little wooded valley, and they were quiet. Just little fluffy rustlings of feathers joined the sound of breezes through the trees, as Flight Lightning cuddled the side of Scootaloo not already wrapped around Sweetie Belle. Dash didn’t do likewise for Sweetie, but Scootaloo was making up for it, not even caring who saw her snuggling Sweetie with her small orange wings. “We’re quiet,” whispered Rainbow Dash, after a few minutes spent undisturbed. “We can stay quiet. Nothing’s happening, Sweetie Belle.” Sweetie nodded miserably. “Can you tell us what’s so frightening?” asked Dash. “I feel like you skipped telling us something.” “What’s out there?” asked Scootaloo, concerned. “It must be really bad.” Sweetie shuddered, looking haunted. “Is it the Kirin?” asked Dash. “That’s the only thing I can think of, that’s so powerful it would scare you this much. And that’s crazy, I’ve seen a Kirin and she was a little cutie. Nice though she was a bit weird. Are you frightened of the Kirin, Sweetie Belle?” “No,” said Sweetie. “Ask yourself how come they need Kirin that much?” The other ponies fell silent, frowning. “I don’t know whether I’m more frightened of the monsters or the pegasi,” said Sweetie Belle softly. “In some ways I’m more scared of the unicorns. Because I know there must be some, but they’re not talked about at all, not since their attack on the Kirin. I wonder if the ponies here will think I’m an evil unicorn coming to take over. But they do know what to do about that.” She shivered. Dash wrinkled her brow. “Okay, let me get this straight. You’re scared of monsters here. You’re also scared of the pegasi, and maybe even more scared of the unicorns. And you’re a unicorn, and we’re pegasi.” “Not like them,” mumbled Sweetie Belle. “We’re just not like them.” “Whatever,” said Dash. “And yet you rode on my back all the way to Neighpon without a word of complaint, and only now that you’re freakin’ out do we start hearing about this. Never mind the stories, you can tell us those next. Sweetie, why did you even come here?” Sweetie Belle said nothing. She just stuck out her lower lip petulantly… and clung to Scootaloo. Who blushed brighter and brighter, hugging back, understanding that the little unicorn had gone far into what she considered harm’s way simply because her mate was doing likewise. Sweetie’s bravery hadn’t been obvious when surrounded by giddy pegasus excitement and adventure. It was only now that they learned how courageous she had been. “Start from the beginning,” urged Flight Lightning. “We’re here for ya. Tell us about these monsters, Sweetie Belle. Where did you hear about that stuff?” “I told you, I read,” said Sweetie. “Twilight Sparkle let me come read in her library, and even Princess Celestia let me go visit her library. There isn’t that much about Neighpon, but it was really exciting and mysterious. I read everything I could find. Princess Celestia said she knew one of the writers personally…” “The monsters, Sweetie,” said Flight Lightning. “What are we dealing with here?” Sweetie Belle gave a sigh. “But that’s just it. It’s not even the dragons, you know.” “We can beat dragons,” vowed Rainbow Dash. “You better believe it.” “Fluttershy can tame dragons,” suggested Scootaloo. “We don’t need Fluttershy to deal with dragons,” said Dash. “We’re dressed up as a dragon,” pointed out Flight Lightning. “I mean, when we fly around in that costume. The one you stole, Sweetie Belle.” “It’s not about the dragons!” protested Sweetie. “And I only spotted it, when we got to Neighpon and Rainbow said we should have a special disguise. They have to dress up like dragons. You took it off the clothes-line yourself!” “Hey!” said Scootaloo. “I helped! ‘Cause Rainbow Dash was right, we ought to have a special disguise. Why do they even have dragon costumes around anyway?” Rainbow Dash scratched her head. “Twilight did say they got up to kinky stuff. It must be that. What else?” “I’m trying to tell you,” said Sweetie, “and please keep your voices down! It’s so scary to be here.” “Fine,” said Dash, and whispered, “So what else?” “The ponies of Neighpon are great warriors,” said Sweetie Belle. “Yeah well I’M a…” “No, shh!” urged Sweetie. “It’s all because they haven’t got enough monsters and stuff to fight. They have to dress up like dragons to have any, that’s why they have costumes. Also, they have way fewer pegasi and unicorns than us, something about preserving the great tapestry of natural ponies. Kirin have something to do with it. They’re like trainers. It’s like they don’t let unicorns and pegasi happen except when they’re just naturally born, but then they make a big fuss about it…” Flight Lightning frowned. “That’s different. Kirin are against pegasi? If I knew that when the Kirin visited Ponyville, I’d have given her a piece of my mind about it.” “You mean a piece of your hoof,” smirked Dash. “You hit me first, Dash,” retorted Flight Lightning, “and anyway never mind, I’m sorry and that’s long over. Tell us more, Sweetie Belle. They don’t want pegasi? What do they do with ‘em? This sounds bad, and it sure has you scared. Do you think they’re gonna hurt you because you’re a unicorn? Are we, like, not allowed?” “It’s not that,” said Sweetie, and looked perplexed. “I don’t think it is. They… want to treat us like we’re more special? It’s weird. You’d think they would just help ponies get along, but they want unicorns and pegasi only to happen by accident… but then, when they do, it’s a big deal and they celebrate it a lot. But it’s in this creepy way…” Scootaloo poked her with a hoof. “Maybe it’s just because we aren’t Neighponnese? Explain, Sweetie. What do they do? Start with the pegasi. It sounds like you know more about their pegasi.” Sweetie nodded. “Their pegasi are, like, the next best thing to Kirin. I told you, they’re warriors. They go away and train for battle, it’s all they do.” “Wow. Battling each other?” said Dash. “No. Yes,” said Sweetie Belle. “Kind of. I really didn’t understand that part.” Dash, Flight and Scootaloo glanced at each other. “We’re all pegasi, Sweetie,” said Dash. “What’s ‘no yes’, and what do they battle? You just got our attention, bigtime. Do they attack other pegasi, like us?” “I think they just train so hard that they get kind of crazy,” said Sweetie. “The Kirin teach them to be protectors of ponies when the Kirin aren’t around. Maybe even when they are? I don’t know what the unicorns do, I just know about the evil unicorn cabal that tried to take over. That was a whole age… they call them Ages of Neighpon, and that was the Age of Sorrow. I don’t know if they like unicorns much. They don’t seem to take the unicorns away, the naturally born unicorns I mean.” “Hey,” said Scootaloo, cuddling her. “Any way unicorns get born is okay by me.” “Keep going,” said Flight Lightning sternly. “They train these pegasi for battle, and then what?” “They do it when they haven’t got monsters and stuff to fight. Demons,” said Sweetie. “Pink demons?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Huh?” “One of those ponies was yelling about pink demons coming back,” said Dash. “Are they supposed to fight pink demons?” Sweetie looked puzzled. “I don’t think I saw anything about pink demons in all the old books I read. Are you sure you heard that right?” “They train for battle,” repeated Flight Lightning, “and then what? They fight monsters, and?” Sweetie looked sick. “If they can’t fight monsters the Kirin let them fight each other because they’re so nuts for fighting. They wiped out all the bad monsters. One pegasus would take on a dragon like it was nothing. It wouldn’t matter if they got killed or terribly injured because they just wanted to fight the biggest enemy, you know? I think the Kirin encouraged them, but in the Age of Despair it got bad and the pegasi took to attacking regular ponies and demanding tribute.” “Their Ages kinda suck, you know that?” said Dash. Sweetie shook her head. “They’re in the Age of Bountiful Joy now, so I guess they got better. But the Kirin dealt with the pegasi taking over by getting them to fight each other.” “Explain that,” said Flight Lightning. “I thought Kirin were supposed to be good and nice. How did they do that?” “That’s why I’m so scared of them,” said Sweetie. “They didn’t really ever get the pegasi to be nice again. Instead, they told the pegasi they could rule pony towns if they ruled justly, but there weren’t enough pony towns to go around. So the Kirin made the pegasi fight for it. It became a tradition, what they call a martial art? They don’t bother ruling towns anymore, but the ponies make a fuss over the pegasi just as if they did. The Kirin run the towns, with the regular ponies, and the pegasi practice being warriors and they’re ready in case anything attacks Neighpon. They will all die to defend Neighpon, and they’re super fierce and tough, and they still duel sometimes, the book said.” “How do they duel?” asked Scootaloo. “I shouldn’t tell you,” mumbled Sweetie Belle. “Now you gotta,” ordered Flight Lightning. “How do they duel?” “They can fly incredibly fast, until the sky rips and breaks…” “Me too,” said Dash, “it’s called a sonic rainboom. Flight can really haul ass too. And?” “And they fly directly into each other at full speed,” said Sweetie, “and try to kick out just right at the last possible instant.” “Hoof to the head?” marvelled Dash. “That’s nuts!” “They go for the wings,” said Sweetie Belle. All three pegasi cringed in unison. “They WHAT?” said Dash. “That’s the martial art,” explained Sweetie. “There’s a special rank the Kirin set up. The regular townsponies are taught that a pegasus with one wing is as honorable as one injured fighting a dragon… like it doesn’t matter how they get wrecked, they’re to be celebrated. I guess it’s better than the townsponies killing a wounded pegasus, which is what they were starting to do in the Age of Despair? The Kirin made them the guardians of the towns but then they got the townsponies to take special care of pegasus injured in battle, like so maimed their wings were gone. I guess the pegasi bought it? They’re also the only ones who get to teach martial arts to other pegasi…” Dash, Flight and Scootaloo still looked appalled. “Does that make ‘em feel better about it?” asked Scootaloo. “I guess. So, they’re crazy warriors,” said Sweetie, “and they can beat a dragon or any kind of monster, and they fly into each other with flailing hooves to try and rip off each others’ wings, just for fun. Do you see why I’m more scared of the pegasi here than the monsters?” Flight Lightning, eyes narrowed, regarded Sweetie. “This is out of history books? Sounds like bad times. How do you know they still do all this?” Sweetie pouted. “I guess I don’t. The book said it was all true, though. If you see one-winged pegasi it must be true.” “We haven’t,” Flight Lightning pointed out. “It’s just stories out of a book.” “If they find out we’re here,” said Sweetie petulantly, “and they fly into you incredibly fast and kick your wing off screaming a battle cry, it will be too late to tell you to be careful.” The pegasi cringed again, but all three looked determined. “NOT happening,” said Rainbow Dash. “I can outfly any Neighponnese pegasus. They have a martial art that’s pegasus against pegasus?” Sweetie pouted. “Works on unicorns, too. And earth ponies. We have legs, you know.” “Well, we have a disguise!” said Scootaloo. “We have a dragon suit. I know it does kinda look just like a big flying worm but it has a dragony head on it! We can hide your legs in that, all you have to do is squeak.” “Me and Dash can get it to move like lightning!” said Flight Lightning. She grinned at Rainbow Dash. “Well, half Lightning and half Dash?” “Adds up to one totally awesome!” said Scootaloo, loyally. “Nope! About half,” said Dash, “because it’s cumbersome. So what else have we got? I can do hoof to hoof combat, maybe not trained by a Kirin but I can do it.” “So can I,” said Flight Lightning, and winced. “As you know!” “Yeah,” said Dash thoughtfully, “but… not in a big monster costume. I think we need to make more of a plan. Sweetie has those weaponized squeaks…” “I don’t want to hurt anypony!” wailed Sweetie. “Now who’s noisy?” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry!” whispered Sweetie. “I don’t want to hurt anypony. I’m not gonna do it if it hurts ponies, I don’t even care.” “It won’t,” promised Flight Lightning. “They’re just falling over. Like the flower ponies. Ponies are the same all over.” Dash was frowning. “Except when they aren’t. Hey, Flight? You still got that hoof-to-hoof thing goin’ on? If Sweetie’s right, we could end up duking it out with a Neighponnese pegasus. Are you up for that?” “I doubt it’ll be as extreme as she says, but yeah, if we get jumped I won’t go down without a fight. But you’re missing something, Dash. Anyone attacking us has to get through that crazy costume! There’s padding. You know it’s kind of heavy.” “We jump out and kick the hell out of the attacking pegasus samurai!” boasted Dash. “Like, fling off the disguise and YAAA!” “NOW who’s noisy?” griped Scootaloo, as Sweetie clung to her in a panic. “Dash?” said Flight Lightning. “Yeah?” “Sweetie Belle’s in that costume. And she can’t fly. Great plan, dude, A plus. How about you think of something else?” Dash subsided. “Oh. Yeah. Um…” “I think I could squeak even louder if it was a scary warrior pegasus attacking us,” said Sweetie hesitantly. Scootaloo set her jaw. “You need hoof to hoof combat, huh?” “We have to consider the possibility,” said Dash grimly. “And your mom’s right: we can’t fight and fly in the costume at the same time. We could work out how to get down to the ground in a hurry, and split up, and Sweetie can… try to hide under the costume? I don’t know, kid, we’re in a big fog here. You got anything?” “You know, I think I just might,” said Scootaloo grimly. “Mom? Throw me at the attacker.” “Like hell,” retorted Flight Lightning. “No, listen! When I won the Ponyville dance contest it was with these wild moves. You know, you KNOW I’ve always had a lot of dexterity. It’s kind of my thing. And I can totally fly well enough to guide myself, and unlike Sweetie Belle, if I fall from way up, I’ll get down without hitting too hard. You know I can pull off a glide which isn’t all that steep. Give me one shot.” “To do what?” said Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo’s eye glinted. “If some pegasus warrior is attacking us… and Sweetie? I’m gonna do those moves again, but to HIT instead of to miss. I don’t care how fast they are, I’m faster, and I’ll knock them the fuck out. End of problem. You can meet me back on the ground and we’ll fly out of there.” “You’re going to fly out of the mouth of the dragon, and beat up pegasi warriors?” said Flight Lightning, skeptically. “That’s the plan?” “She is orange!” quipped Rainbow Dash. “They’ll think she’s a dragon flame. I was at that dance contest, I saw her. It could work. Scootaloo, that’s an interesting suggestion, and I believe you about protecting Sweetie Belle. It makes sense in a stupid way. I’ll go along with it on one condition.” “What?” said Scootaloo. “Show me,” replied Dash, with an evil grin. She scuffed the dirt with a forehoof. “Oh, come the fuck on, Dash,” said Flight Lightning. “Scootaloo?” said Sweetie Belle. The grin on Dash’s face spread… to Scootaloo’s. Their eyes locked, and didn’t waver. Scootaloo got to her hooves, shaking out one foreleg, then the other. “Oh, Scootaloo, don’t!” pleaded Sweetie Belle. “It’ll be okay, you don’t have to!” “You do,” corrected Rainbow Dash, “you totally do. Come on. Show me. I dare ya. We need to know. Come ON! I bet you c…” They didn’t even see Scootaloo move. One moment, she was standing poised and tense, eyes locked utterly on Dash, and then she was a whirl of a blur, little orange limbs spinning with alarming velocity in a sort of kamikaze cartwheel. In that fraction of a second, Rainbow Dash reacted with Dashian speed, trying to gauge where the little orange hoofs were coming from, her adrenaline up, holding nothing back with her own blue hooves flashing out to intercept the incoming blows. Failing. Sweetie squealed, in spite of herself. Flight Lightning yelled. The blur came to rest well past Rainbow Dash, panting. Dash’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she toppled with a flail of cerulean wings, collapsing. Scootaloo had hit her three times in less than half a second, twice in the head. “What the FUCK, kid?” yelled Flight Lightning. “What have you done?” Scootaloo trembled, fighting for breath. “It’s okay! Give me a moment… I’m sure I gauged it right! I think I’d have to go harder if it was an earth pony, but that ought to work for another pegasus…” “It doesn’t WORK at all!” yelled Flight Lightning. “You are so grounded. We’re going home! Except that’s dumb, never mind, we’re going to go find some Neighponnese ponies and take Rainbow to the hospital! Or whatever they have here, do they have pony hospitals, Sweetie? Holy shit, kid! Not okay! Bad pony!” “It’s important!” yelled Scootaloo. “She told me to do it! I had to prove what I said!” “She’s an idiot!” replied Flight Lightning. “And so are you! You don’t get to take chances like that. Not when Sweetie depends on riding Dash to get around! And since when do you hit your big damn hero Rainbow Dash?” One ruby eye cracked open. “When she can do it right,” rasped Dash. She was promptly mobbed by two fillies, and then one truly pissed off pegasus Mom, all hugging and comforting her. “Ow, ow ow!” moaned Dash. “No more demonstrations! You made your point. Ow! I’m OK, I’m totally OK, don’t jostle me, ow! Fuck! Why’d you have to go for the head?” “What else could I do?” said Scootaloo. “Yeah, least useful part,” said Flight Lightning. “For fuck’s sake, Dash. Don’t be fucking stupid again, okay?” The harshness of her words was belied by her hoof gently stroking Dash’s mane, exploring Rainbow’s skull for signs of damage. “Yaaa! Cut it out, I’m fine!” wailed Dash. “And really, Scoots? You go for me with the most disabling attack? Point made, okay? You’re our new karate weapon, we fling you at enemies and you boot ‘em in the head and then we gather you back into the suit. It’s a brilliant plan and there’s nothing ridiculous about dragon monsters puking violent pegasus fillies at enemies. Or if there is, that’s ponies for ya. Never mind, it’ll work. WHAT?” Scootaloo pouted, for she’d been trying to get a word in. “It wasn’t.” “Huh?” “You said the most disabling attack. I didn’t, I kicked you in the head twice.” “That’s not your best?” “If some pegasus warrior comes to hurt Sweetie,” said Scootaloo, “I’m gonna kick their wing off. Don’t you think I could get through any block they had? I think so. And then,” she said, and gulped, “they can go off and be important teachers of warriors. ‘Cos we’re gonna keep their wing as a trophy!” Dash and Flight Lightning gagged. Sweetie’s adoring eyes were worried. “Scoot,” said Flight Lightning, “no! Just no. Calm down. Nopony’s gonna hurt anypony. We’re just going to find Braeburn. Your Dad, remember? What would he think if he heard you talking that way?” Shared pause. “Bad example,” said Flight Lightning, “never mind. Think of ME, and remember ponies are always ponies. We’ll be fine.” Sweetie gulped, apparently unconvinced. Dash studied her. “You really think the pegasus warriors are that badass here, Sweetie? It’s not pretty. Ugh! Scootaloo, if things get that heavy, we’re going to have some explaining to do when we get home. On the other hand, I just got a little more certain that we WILL get home. Let’s figure out where we’ll go next.” Sweetie Belle’s lip quivered. “I would kinda rather believe that Flight Lightning is right about this. But you took me seriously… Rainbow Dash, you also think we’re going to need that kind of ferocity?” Dash’s glance went from her, to Scootaloo’s truculent glare, back to Sweetie again. “Well,” said Dash, “we got it.” “Eenope,” said Big Macintosh, gently. The Neighponnese earth pony mare stuck out her lower lip. “Really? Curse! Are you sure? I thought all traveling musicians were wildly promiscuous.” “Don’t need that much practice,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah’m just wondering if you heard of a Kirin name of Hina-rin?” Her eyes widened. “They’re not replacing Mangekyo-sama? Say they are not! She has come a long way and we all support her, why do you think I am wanting to mate with you when you’re strange but still obviously a pony of some sort?” “Beg pardon?” “You don’t know about our village? I suppose we should be grateful for that. Ponies are so judgemental at times! It is sad that the creativity of our Kirin must be stifled. Even if she did allow some things that maybe weren’t the best.” “Ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah got no idea what you’re talkin’ about. For today I’m gonna respectfully dee-cline your perty favors, but what th’ heck do you mean, I’m a pony of some sort? Course I am!” “We like your type,” said the mare with a wink. “You’re different. You really don’t know about our village? I thought everypony did. Will it help you be attracted to me if I tell you?” “It might help me understand what you’re talkin’ about!” “We like differentness,” explained the mare. “Here, status is having a family with much differentness. Mangekyo-sama helped our village be more different than any other, until the other Kirin made her stop.” She pouted. “Go on…” “It’s most unfair! Curse Fuwafuwa, anyway, I would have rivalled her for certain if Mangekyo-sama had been allowed to continue! She was almost ready to help me love the daioukia, I’d spent months and months persuading her. It would have been amazing and brought me great importance among my peers and I had even arranged for the special pool…” Big Macintosh blinked. “Beggin’ your pardon, but ya lost me. Dai-what-a?” The mare blinked cutely at him. “Daioukia. You know! The giant squid.” Had he been drinking, Big Macintosh would have spit it. “Jes’ a moment. You were gonna have your Kirin help you screw a giant SQUID?” “Where do you think sea ponies come from?” replied the mare. “Except I would be mother to a whole new species of giant sea ponies. With lovely tentacles! It’s SO unfair that Mangekyo-sama gave all that up.” Big Macintosh was backing tactfully away from his cute but alarming companion. “Uhh… ma’am, ponies don’t work that way. Far as I know.” She pouted. “Don’t be foolish! Why, Fuwafuwa mated an owl with her help! It turned into a giant owl, and just as she’d hoped, she birthed a pegasus with special wings, silent as midnight. She grew up to be a great warrior, her name was Fukuro. But I didn’t get to birth my giant tentacled sea pony baby, which is completely unfair!” Big Macintosh’s eyes were wide. “Um… you aren’t thinkin’ I got some tentacle for a dick, are ya?” “I’ll make do,” said the mare. “You’re so different! It’s not like the old days, but you are still the differentest pony to come here in years!” “Ain’t this kinda… strange and creepy?” “No, creepy was Kasukana, who mated a snail. When that family heard the Kirin were changing our village they fled across the sea. I only want my giant squid, but you’ll do.” Big Macintosh kept his distance. The mare was so cheerful, but the tale she told just kept getting more alarming. Perhaps that was why the other Kirin had talked some sense into their Kirin, Mangekyo-sama. “Is it… normal? For all y’alls Kirin to git up to such creepy experimentin’? That seems like a pow’ful tough thing to do, crossin’ mares with squids and owls and such.” “It keeps things interesting!” scoffed the mare. “Now come on. Come and play and give me a giant red horse foal! We have so few chances to be different anymore.” “Is that what ya need?” asked Big Macintosh. “Bein’ different?” The mare hesitated… and sagged. “No. The other Kirin taught us that. It’s not really necessary. Mangekyo-sama indulged us. They say it started when huge dragons plagued the land, and she bred a kind of pony whose front half was that of a giant raptor bird… they were all lost battling the dragons. You can see in the costumes of our pegasi, the stylized beaks and claws. They can’t equal the hippogriffs, but the hippogriffs couldn’t live. Their hearts gave out.” She sighed. “Romancin’?” said Big Macintosh, uncertainly. “They were three times as fast and powerful as a pegasus,” replied the mare, “with only a pony heart. They say Mangekyo-sama cried for months when she realized what she’d done, but she had to continue until the dragons were destroyed. The hippogriffs went willingly to their deaths, because they lived to defend the village and they loved us. Ever after, ponies have tried to live up to their heroism. Mangekyo-sama will never help another mare birth a hippogriff.” “What about the one with the owl?” “Not the same,” said the mare. “Only a little bit swifter than a pegasus. There is no need for such measures now. In truth this is why Mangekyo-sama had to repent of her ways and won’t help me make a giant squidpony: our village once knew and loved the hippogriffs, and we never stopped bugging her and suggesting other experiments. Stupid Fuwafuwa! Though in fairness, Fukuro was the most adorable snuggly owl-pegasus-filly you could possibly imagine. Maybe that’s how she persuaded dear Mangekyo-sama? Adorableness?” She looked quizzically at Big Macintosh, who blinked and said, “Dunno.” “What bothers you, giant red horse?” she said. “You’ve backed up against the wall. If you really don’t want to mate me, I won’t press you. You’re acting like we are disturbing, and our village is famed for its glorious history.” Big Macintosh scuffed a hoof on the floor. “Ah’m sorry. I’m bein’ rude, and I don’t even know your name…” “Kai,” she said. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you upset. You can come closer, you look like you’re about to gallop away as fast as you can!” “Ah am,” he said. “Gotta set up for th’ gig. It’s not on your account, ma’am. It’s just…” “What?” “Don’t you think,” said Big Macintosh, “that’s a lot of playin’ with the lives of ponies? Is that what Kirin do? What they’re s’posed to do? I’m jes’ askin’.” Kai’s eyes twinkled. “Are there no Kirin where you come from? Mangekyo-sama may be over-eager to indulge our dreams, but healing the lives of ponies is what Kirin are for.” “Um.” She blinked. “I’m sorry? Why does that distress you? Do you not believe me?” “Naw,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens Ah do…” She carried on, as if conveying a great gossipy secret. “You would be surprised! Why, I have heard stories of a unicorn mare in a town to the south. This mare grew up tiny, uncommonly so, but all the same she became sexually mature and wished to make love with stallions…” “Uhh…” said Big Macintosh, starting to blush under his red hide. “Of course, she was far too tiny! Stallions hurt her terribly. Now if it was THIS town, our Mangekyo-sama would set her up with some nice chipmunk or squirrel and be done with it, but no! They say our Mangekyo-sama was foolhardy, but listen! That town’s Kirin thought they would be clever. And so they kept an eye on her, but they changed her mind so that intercourse pain was turned to pleasure, so she could sleep with her pick of stallions! They thought all they had to do was warn the stallions not to be rough with her, and she would be okay so long as they checked up on her now and then. What? You were saying something?” “Go on…” said Big Macintosh, his eyes wide. Kai nodded wisely. “Of course it didn’t end well. Yes, it was asking a lot of the stallions, but they had overlooked one thing: herself! The foolish mare began wrecking herself with constant intercourse. They couldn’t just put her back after all that trouble, plus it would be a cruel act to deprive her of that gift, but she ran wild and sought stronger and stronger matings until her life was regularly endangered! And eventually, the Kirin sort of took her away. They say she is allowed to go back to town on special occasions. And they can say what they like of our beloved Mangekyo-sama, but you know what else they say? They say the Kirin of that town are never short of magic.” Big Macintosh gulped, remembering a night-time fireworks display… over a lake his partner knew would be needed. And he remembered what he’d done, and the anger and alarm of the Kirin who had rushed to the scene, healing magic at the ready… “Ponies find ways to adapt to just about anything,” said Kai. “Hey… hey! Where are you going!” “…gotta set up th’ gig!” cried Big Macintosh, and galloped off. She pouted. “Hmph! Well, there’s always good old dreams of squid…” ChiaroscuroAt the edge of the clearing, near the outskirts of town, a lovely grey mare with green eyes and sandy mane and tail walked out into the sunlight. She blinked, her ears quirking back in surprise. Not at an unexpected sound… but an unexpected absence of sound. She glanced back. “Daitana,” called Kichona, “I am aware that you adore my hindquarters. But please admire them up close, not hiding in the woods! We have arrived at another village, further north!” From the treeline, a Kirin lurked fretfully. “Perhaps we can go around?” Kichona didn’t stamp her hoof, for she was nearly as solicitous as a Kirin of all forms of life. But she did poke out her lower lip in an outrageous pout. “And why would we do that, beloved?” Daitana skulked forward, out into the open. “I have almost no magic. What if they require my services? I am ashamed, for I cannot help anypony.” She kissed him, sweetly. “Nonsense. You are beautiful, and wise, and if you don’t wish to guzzle magic from overstuffed unicorns there is no reason you should. We’ll find another Kirin and they will share their magic with you in the way you prefer.” “How can you say that?” protested Daitana. “The more time I spend with you, the less I wish to pleasure our country’s unicorns and consume their magic. It is no small matter to refuse this fate. How can you make it seem so simple? The other Kirin will be upset with me!” Kichona gave him a lovingly exasperated look. “No, they won’t. They’ll love you, as I do.” He pawed the ground anxiously with an elegant cloven hoof, until she raised her own hoof and gently touched his foreleg to remind him. He blushed. He mumbled, “They will know I am resisting my duty.” “Don’t think about it,” soothed Kichona. Her ear quirked again. “Now, come with me into this nice village, and we will… what in Neighpon?” A sound impended. At first quiet, like a desultory tearing of cloth, it expanded suddenly in loudness and was upon them. With it came a brick-red streak in the air, and a dopplering exultant scream. The streak formed two loop-de-loops, almost faster than the eye could follow, and then terminated with a wild gust of wind directly before Kichona and Daitana, and revealed itself as a Neighponnese pegasus warrior. “I am the great Moeru!” he proclaimed, in a silky and boastful voice. “Have you seen my quarry?” Daitana and Kichona blinked at each other. The warrior grinned happily at them, not even tired from his rambunctious flying shenanigans. He was a brick red in color, slight of build but strong of wing muscles, and his mane was a riot of sky blue and spring green shades. He wore a rather skimpy costume, still angular, but tailored to expose quite a lot of his rump. His eyes were such a pale blue as to appear almost white, and he repeated, “I am the great Moeru! And you are, master?” “Oh!” said Daitana. “Daitana. I am Daitana.” “It is an honor to greet you, Daitana-san,” said Moeru, still grinning but bowing his head a little. “I ask again, have you seen my quarry?” “I beg your pardon?” said Kichona, politely. Moeru glanced at her for the first time. “My quarry! I am hunting the Sneaking Spy! Haven’t you heard of the Sneaking Spy?” “No, I haven’t,” she said. “Are they dangerous?” The slim pegasus warrior glanced again at Daitana, but answered her. “Not as dangerous as I! I, the great Moeru, will protect you! It is both my delight and my duty.” “Oh, thank you,” said Kichona, and prodded Daitana. “Isn’t that nice, dear?” “Oh, yes!” said Daitana. “I’m sure you will do a wonderful job, Great Moeru. We are fine here, there are no sneaking spies here. We are just enjoying a journey, ah, north. To find some traveling musicians.” Moeru blinked. “You speak so informally, Kirin! Traveling musicians? Local ones? What sort?” “Why,” said Kichona, “do you love music as we do? We could go together to hear them.” The pegasus warrior shook his head. Beads, braided into his riotous mane, rattled. “No. I mean, it’s all right, but I must get back to my search. I just wondered if that’s who the other two Kirin were hunting for.” Daitana backed up a pace, instinctively. Kichona shot him a steadying glance, and said, “Kirin are hunting for somepony?” “The Sneaking Spy!” proclaimed Moeru. “I will find that spy for them!” “Did they seem worried?” asked Daitana. “Which Kirin, exactly? Did they say any more, or describe this spy, say what sort of creature it is? Not that it would be anything like a rogue Kirin who won’t do his duty! I’m just asking.” Moeru gawked at him. “You are a weird Kirin, Daitana-san!” Daitana gulped, and frantically tried to summon up Kirin formality. “Ahh… the cherry blossoms, sprinkling down from the treetops, reveal no secrets. Duty is a joy, and we all understand it, especially me. Uhh… what sort of spying, troubles the Neighponnese hills, and what does it look… like?” Moeru boggled at him, and then shrugged. “They didn’t say. It was the Kirin from near where I live, south of here. They are from the pirate town Kabochaebi.” He sighed wistfully. “Ah, Kabochaebi.” “I am sure you’ll win,” said Daitana, formally. “You will find your Sneaking Spy. He will not be here.” “I sure will!” squeed the dainty warrior, trotting in place and limbering up his wings. “I’m the great Moeru! It’s going to be soooo exciting, weeee!” “Do you need my aid?” continued Daitana, hoping Moeru wouldn’t call him on it. “Injuries of yours to heal? Or help with the ma…” Daitana froze. Next to him, Kichona went pale. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up traditional Neighponnese customs, with only Kichona present. ‘Help with the mares’ could only mean an offer to render him unfruitful, sterile for a time. This was a bargain struck with the pegasus warriors, and there were compensations. In many villages, mares were eager to offer themselves to warrior pegasi, especially since it wouldn’t produce inconvenient foals. They had their fun, and the pegasi got to be the flying, pony-screwing, glorious rulers of all they surveyed, provided they didn’t argue about the arrangement or who was really calling the shots. Ordinary ponies could roll with this sort of thing in a spirit of ponyish affection and cheerful hedonism. Daitana couldn’t even look directly at Kichona. All at once, he realized he wasn’t the only renegade, the only one defying Neighpon’s odd, practical customs. She was horrified at the very notion of casual sex with a visiting pegasus, something that normally didn’t faze Neighponnese earth ponies—something that was even deemed welcome and sought after, a point of status. Not for Kichona, it wasn’t. And it wasn’t because he was a pegasus… it was because he was not Daitana, her intended husband. She’d been playing things easy and casual, but his slip had revealed that she was just as deeply in love as he was, and she blanched at the prospect that the pegasus warrior might want to screw her. The Great Moeru, warrior pegasus, didn’t seem to notice. “Nah,” he said. “I’m all about the stallions, and I don’t need your help with that.” “Oh,” said Daitana, almost staggering with relief. Beside him, Kichona exhaled. “No, really, I don’t!” insisted Moeru, pouting. “Do you think because I’m not all that big, I can’t take it? I’m the Great Moeru! I conquer all dick, I love it!” “That’s nice,” said Kichona carefully. “It’s good to have a hobby.” “A calling, more like!” boasted Moeru. “I have the best-feeling boypussy in all Neighpon! I take all the cocks!” “What, all of them?” said Daitana, forgetting his formal meter. Moeru sagged, and pouted. “Nah. They don’t let me return to that seaside town with all the pirates anymore—you know, Kabochaebi. I wore them all out and still wasn’t satisfied and the Kirin made me leave them alone. They still sing songs about me, you know. I shattered a glass with the force of my cum, while taking the largest-cocked pirate.” “That’s… nice?” said Kichona, eyes wide. Daitana gawked at the swishy little warrior pegasus. “You… ejaculated something harder than glass? I can’t imagine that a fluid could shatter a glass. Unless its temperature was very unusual. Were you perhaps feverish? I suppose if your story is true, you might well have been…” Moeru pouted. “Oh all right, I knocked it off the bar. They were playing target practice with me and making bets. It should still count, it did shatter once it hit the floor! Can I go now? I have to find the Sneaking Spy!” “Perhaps you’d better,” said Daitana, in perfect Kirin diction. “Weeee!” squeed the little red warrior pegasus, and he was gone in a streak of blurred speed, dragging a gust of wind behind him. Daitana and Kichona looked at each other. “Sneaking Spy?” said Daitana. Kichona frowned, sticking her lower lip out. “If they are looking for you, they can’t have you! You’re mine, so there!” “So you admit maybe they’re looking for me because I’m being a bad Kirin?” “Shush. Let’s go and find these musicians and warn them a pegasus is hunting them. Maybe one of the musicians is a stallion and there will be a happy ending.” “Except for another bar glass,” suggested Daitana, “shattered by a stray cum-shot.” Kichona tossed her mane. “I would believe it. And wasn’t it two musicians and a big stallion as road crew? Perhaps the Great Moeru’s luck is in.” Applejack trotted into Ponyville, well ahead of Uni, glancing around eagerly. It seemed curiously empty, though she couldn’t say exactly why. Ponyville wasn’t the most bustling metropolis, and there seemed no reason to expect hot and cold running ponies the instant she showed up. Hot FLYING ponies, on the other hand… Applejack kept looking. She’d been fantasizing about this moment. Dashie knew she’d gone on a journey. Would it be so very surprising if, while trotting home from her Neighpon adventure, she heard a rustle of wings from behind… and was surprised by a swooping, erect, horny pegasus? Rainbow had often talked about how hot it would be to just swoop down upon Applejack and take her, plunge into her with a single mighty plunge, impaling her and carrying her off to a romantic bower with ferns and flowers and a lot of lusty screaming and orgasms. It was a ridiculous fantasy, so they’d never done anything of the sort. Dash was large enough to really hurt Applejack if she’d tried to impale her to the hilt from a flying start, the attempt would also hurt Dash’s magic dick, and the closest they’d ever got to it was one lovemaking session where Dash had tried the swoop, realized she was wearing a ninja-pony catsuit, and had torn the crotch of her own catsuit out and gone for a good Applejacking instead. But… Uni trotted up. In the streets of Ponyville, she didn’t look a thing like the dread pirate queen Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp. It only showed in subtle ways, like how she wasn’t winded in the least from keeping up with eager Applejack. “Applejack-san, what worries you?” “Aw, ain’t nothin to worry about… well, phoo! Just as well, Ah guess…” Applejack did look dismayed, but it wasn’t about how sensible her fantasy was. Or, not in the obvious sense. Even as she imagined it, Applejack realized the flaw in her plan. Supposing Dash did fly up from behind, bit in teeth. Suppose she did get impaled upon cerulean cock, balled senseless the instant she showed her pretty tail in Ponyville again. Suppose Dash screwed her until they both came their butts off, without even exchanging a word, suppose she felt that gush of horsecome blasting her cervix, flooding her, squirting to the heart of her femaleness and triggering whatever the nice Kirin did for her… Wasn’t it going to be awkward as hell explaining to Dash what she’d just done? Wasn’t it going to ruin it for her beloved? Wouldn’t she want to make a bigger fuss over the process, knowing what it meant? Wouldn’t they want to linger and really wallow in the realities of it, since it was such a consarned unusual goin’-on to be going on? Applejack’s ears wilted, and she glanced around again, but prepared herself for a merry rodeo. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d teased an erect Dash with frisking and whirling. It would be the first time she’d done it in order to have a serious conversation first. Still, no Dash presented herself, erect or otherwise. “Applejack-san?” “Naw…” “What?” blinked the Neighponnese cutie. “Ah mean, yes!” corrected Applejack. “And what’s more, welcome to Ponyville! Don’t mind me, I was jes’ thinkin’ about things.” “What things?” asked Uni. “I will persuade them to not trouble you any more. If I may.” “Oh, no! Won’t be necessary. Happens I was just imagining my Rainbow Dash swooping down an’ slurp!” “Licking you?” said Uni, and blinked. “Oh! Slurp indeed. Applejack, please do not ask her to do this! You mustn’t encourage the show-offyness of male pegasi that way, trust me. It hurts, is bad for you, and is not good for the stallion either! I hope you have a lovely mating but you should appreciate it in leisure!” “Wait a minute, YOU…” began Applejack, then shook her head. “Never mind! At least it can’t have been B…” “Sh!” hissed Uni, a hint of Kabochaebi peeking out, and Applejack didn’t finish saying the name Blackmane. “Applejack!” came a new voice. Down the road trotted Rarity, looking fabulous, her mane and tail bouncing flawlessly. “Welcome back, darling. Who is your exquisite little friend?” “Uh, she’s Uni. Jes’ Uni,” explained Applejack. “She’s here to buy all of my Granny’s apple turnip cakes. Don’t ask.” “Indeed I will not, if you’d prefer not,” said Rarity. “The rumors I’ve heard suggest those cakes were not a culinary triumph.” “Not a triumph?” said Uni, puzzled. She brightened. “Of course. Instead they are a miracle!” “Oooh!” cooed Rarity. “I recognize that tone. Neighponnese! What a stroke of luck. For obvious reasons, I was busying myself with some Neighponnese-influenced fashions. Would you do me the honor of coming to the Carousel Boutique and giving me your opinion on them, Uni? I notice that you are not a unicorn: does the name Uni bear some added meaning, darling?” “Yes, it does,” replied Uni at once. “Oh, do tell me of this meaning!” cried Rarity, entranced. Somehow, the diminutive Neighponnese’s self-possessedness conveyed an aura of great celebrity, and Rarity’s eyes sparkled to witness it. “The Kirin nicknamed me that,” said Uni. “It is short for unique. But they hope that where I go, many will follow.” “How often I’d had that wish,” sighed Rarity. “And naturally, I would lead them straight to my newest fashions. Allow me to do exactly that for you, dear Uni! I can’t wait to get your opinion on the kimono designs. I’ve brought in just a touch of spikey warrior flair.” “Hang on,” said Applejack. “You’re designing Neighponnese dresses now? Is it ‘cos I went there?” “Oh, no,” said Rarity. “Come along, I’ll explain when we get to the Boutique.” “Um, nah. Beggin’ your pardon, but you an’ Uni go and play with dresses. I got what you might call an appointment. Except she don’t know it yet. Ah’m surprised she ain’t come zippin’ out of the sky, maybe she’s a-nappin’.” “Rainbow?” blinked Rarity. “Wull, yeah!” “Applejack, come with us,” ordered Rarity, suddenly authoritative. “I fear you’re a bit out of the loop…” “She WHAT?” wailed Applejack. “But she did,” said Rarity. “What is so shocking about that? You were just there yourself! I repeat, Rainbow Dash went to Neighpon.” “WHY?” “Oh, poor darling!” cried Rarity. “I am so sorry, I forgot how sentimental you can be! I promise she’ll be home before you know it, can I give you a hug? That I of all ponies should forget the depth and intensity of your love! You looked so capable and strong returning to Ponyville that I did not take into account your tender heart!” Applejack’s eyes were wild. With one hoof, she shoved her hat around on her head, then tamped it down securely. She glared at Rarity. “Tender heart, my ass. There’s more to this than you know, missy. Ah ask again, WHY has Rainbow gone to Neighpon?” Rarity blinked. “Because Sweetie Belle cannot fly, of course.” Applejack’s jaw dropped. Rarity pouted. “Well, she can’t! I’m not delighted about it myself. But I know Neighpon is lovely and safe, and I know she’s with Rainbow. They’ll be back with Braeburn in no time.” Applejack sat back heavily, with a boutique-rattling thud. She gawked at Rarity, and gulped. “Listen,” she said. “How about you tell me your story nice and slow, so’s I understand it. And then, I’ll tell you mine, and I promise you’ll understand why I’m a mite peakied at th’ moment. Okay?” Rarity trotted over, and gave Applejack a hug. “Deal! Mine first?” “If ya kin!” “Of course I, aha, ‘kin’, darling,” said Rarity. “Hmmm. So, to start at the beginning. Braeburn.” Applejack’s eyes widened. “Oh! Ya don’t mean he…” “He did,” confirmed Rarity, with a knowing glance. “And of course Scootaloo…” “AND Flight Lightning?” interrupted Applejack. Rarity nodded. “And therefore…” “Sweetie Belle,” said Applejack, shaking her head. “Oh, and…” “Oh yes,” said Rarity, nodding. “She caught him once. She’s never tired of telling that story. Of course, she decided she could do so again, the little blue minx. And as I said…” “Yeah,” said Applejack. “Them two do everything together. Aw, Rarity! Ya bearin’ up? Is it scary?” “Like I said, Neighpon is a lovely place, and she’s with Rainbow. I honestly don’t think she could come to harm. But yes, it is a little scary. Sweetie is my daughter, for all that we spent years denying it, and I suppose one’s child is always a soft spot. But really, I am sure she is safe,” said Rarity bravely. “Anyhow, any harm meant for her would have to get through first Scootaloo, then Rainbow, and possibly Flight Lightning as well…” “Definitely,” said Applejack. “That’s a good pony, that one. Even if she used to fight with Dashie.” “Ahem,” came a little voice. They looked over, to see Uni sitting, her ears splayed with chagrin. She added, “It is indeed a nice story, and you did not speak too quickly in telling it. But for all that, I fear I have understood nothing.” Applejack and Rarity glanced at each other, and giggled. Before Uni’s face could sadden further, Applejack said, “Ah am so sorry, honey! Us ponies, we’ve been through a lot together, and when we get a-talkin’ maybe we kin leave a lot out. Braeburn’s my second cousin. Them ponies I took over to Neighpon? The big ‘un, Big Macintosh, he’s Braeburn’s special somepony. And I guess we all figure we’ll miss Big Macintosh a lot, so when he set out for Neighpon for a lil’ musical tour…” Uni nodded. “Or forever,” she added. “Beg pardon?” blinked Applejack. Uni glanced back and forth between the two Ponyvilleans. “Oh… I thought you knew. Of the ponies on that tour, there is one who left Neighpon and seeks to conquer it, one who is forever the visitor and lives somewhere else, and one who yearns. He will not return. I saw it in his eyes.” Applejack and Rarity stared, dumbfounded. Uni continued, “I think the grey one, the visitor, might be one of those stateless artist ponies? She could be anywhere, for the place she truly lives is inside her music. And of course you can always tell an expatriate returning to conquer the shores they’ve abandoned…” “WHUT did you say about Big Macintosh?” demanded Applejack. “Oh, no!” wailed Rarity. “I knew it, but I hoped against hope it was not so! Why did they ever set up the poor silly boob with that lovely Kirin? I knew it!” Applejack whirled. “Hang on, is this why you was carryin’ on when we left? I thought it was more crazy unicorn horseapples. Are you sayin’ you KNEW Big Macintosh was leavin’ never to return, and you never said nothin’?” Applejack and Rarity stared at each other, and were interrupted by a polite throat-clearing. It was Uni. “What or who is a Scootaloo?” she said. “You haven’t finished your part of the story.” Applejack stuck out her lower lip, her eyes flashing. “Rarity, hush. Y’all be quiet until we’re done.” “Yes’m,” said Rarity immediately. She sat, her lip quivering and eyes glistening, but made no disruptive noises. Applejack turned to Uni. “Ah will. And then, we ain’t finished until you tell us what you know an’ how you know it. Got that?” “Yes. Please, explain more?” “About to.” Applejack took a breath. “And if you expect us to do that for ya, kindly don’t bust out with alarmin’ notions! Okay. Braeburn ob’vsly was goin’ after Big Macintosh, ‘cos of course he would, shoulda seen that one comin’. Well, Scootaloo is Braeburn’s filly from outta Flight Lightning. Them two lived all by themselves in a lil’ house on account of Scootaloo, she ain’t much for flying like the regular pegasi. Flight, she was real cranky about it, ‘cos the pegasus fella she was with, he dumped her when he learned Scootaloo wasn’t his. Y’know, because of them tiny useless wings from matin’ with an earth pony…” Uni’s frown was grim and disapproving. It seemed Neighpon wouldn’t have permitted such an abandonment. Applejack pressed on. “So if Braeburn was goin’, then it ain’t surprisin’ that Scootaloo was chasin’ after her daddy, or Flight Lightnin’ after her sweetie. Them two did lots better as soon as Braeburn was livin’ in town and bein’ part of their family. They don’t mind if Braeburn’s mostly in love with Big Macintosh, ‘cos y’know, ponies, but it means a lot to have him around. And if they thought Braeburn was gone for good…” “He kicked his house down and fled,” said Rarity. Applejack glanced at her, but it wasn’t a hysterical outburst: it was Rarity, knowing in her confident unicorn brain she had something relevant to add, and doing so without undue fuss. “Did he now?” said Applejack. Rarity nodded, her eyes still glistening. “Scootaloo and Sweetie told me. They were in a terrible hurry, and I took their word. Later, I went to see, and indeed he had. It was knocked down, as they said, from the inside.” Applejack set her jaw. “You got a good eye, Rarity, an’ you’re helpful on a job site. How about you help me rebuild it? He’s gonna need it. When he comes home.” Rarity nodded. “Of course. Go on. Scootaloo and Flight Lightning, you’d got to.” “Yep,” said Applejack. “Well, the thing is, if Scootaloo’s gonna go off to Neighpon after her Daddy… and keep in mind, this ain’t the first time Braeburn’s done a runner, it used to be how he dealt with everything… well, Scootaloo’s sweetie is Sweetie. Belle, I mean. Rarity’s girl. They go everywhere together an’ of course she would go with Scootaloo. But the thing is, Scootaloo can’t fly over a damn ocean, and Sweetie can’t fly at all. And, dammit, I do remember when my Dashie flew out and caught Braeburn at his Braeburniest. That’s who brought him back to Ponyville. She tole me she talked him into livin’ here, and she said it’s because she herself got so much out of livin’ real close with us ponies that she thought it might suit him too…” Uni nodded. “Our Kirin understand this. Neighponnese ponies live all together, without these… groups. Of purebloods, dominating the earth ponies.” Applejack blinked. “Say what? We don’t hold with that in Ponyville!” Rarity shushed her. “Neighponnese history, darling. Go on. So, since Sweetie can’t fly…” “Oh, right,” said Applejack. “So, ob’vsly Rainbow got a bright idea, and I reckon it’s Scootaloo on Flight Lightning and Sweetie on Rainbow Dash, and they headed across the sea as fast as they ever could, to catch ol’ Braeburn and talk some sense into him. Heh. Weather Patrol Stars, and Auxiliaries. I bet they were pretty tired when they got there, but those are two mighty fast an’ strong weather ponies an’ I completely understand why they thought they could do it. If ya know what you’re capable of, you can do gosh dern amazin’ things.” She glanced at Rarity. “Fer instance, do you think y’kin gussy up Braeburn’s house so he feels happy to see it once he gets back?” Rarity nodded vehemently. “Oh, yes. And I think he’ll be grateful, and it might help soothe his loss.” “Whaddya mean, loss?” demanded Applejack. Rarity gulped, her eyes still glistening. “I shall not ‘carry on’, Applejack, for we have a guest, and there are things that remain unresolved. Two of them, and for one we must turn to Uni for our answers, while the other answer must come from you.” “Oh yeah?” “Erm, ‘yeah’,” replied Rarity. “Obviously we must learn why Uni believes Big Macintosh is lost to Neighpon. That’s what I mean by Braeburn’s loss. But, Applejack, when we arrived, before you’d heard any of this, you ‘carried on’ yourself when you learned Rainbow had left. Before we go any further I would like to know why that upset you so much. I know you very well, darling, and that news rocked you like nothing I’ve seen.” Applejack stopped, her eyes wide. “Uh. Well, y’know, I can tell you, but it ain’t got nothin’ to do with Big Macintosh. Whole different other thing.” “Is it?” said Uni. “Neighpon gains a pony from Ponyville… and Neighpon gives a new pony, that would not have existed, to Ponyville.” “Now see here…” “Please, Applejack,” said Rarity, “tell me. I confess I haven’t the foggiest idea what Uni is talking about, but whatever is on your mind is plainly upsetting, even disastrous, and you are dismayed that Rainbow is not here to help you confront it! What disaster do you face?” Applejack blinked at Rarity, astonished. She blinked again. And then… she began to smile, a soft wry amused smile that built like the sense of comfort a pony might get from warming herself before a cozy fire. And Rarity, in turn, stared in amazement, then began to smile in return, her expression puzzled but pleased. “Naw,” said Applejack. “Not what you’d call a disaster, Rarity. Wouldn’t blame some folk for takin’ cover, though, after the first time!” “Oh, do go on,” purred Rarity, eyes alight with curiosity. “Them Kirin, they’re clever critters,” said Applejack. “One fixed me up. The next time Dashie gets with me… boom!” “You shall explode in sexual climax? How is that unusual?” teased Rarity. Applejack made a face. “It’ll be worth it. Sure will swole up fit to bust, I guess. I’m game, bring it on.” Rarity’s eyes widened. “You mean…” “Rainbow’s gonna take her magic bit and make me pregnant by her,” said Applejack. “Kirin fixed me up so’s that kin happen.” Rarity seemed to levitate off the ground for a moment in glee. She gave a little whinny of delight, and hugged Applejack impetuously. “Darling! Oh, how marvellous! I know what you mean to each other, and how much you both love Northern Spy, and what’s more, shall I be just a teensy bit bold and suggest this is personal to you?” Applejack’s smile mirrored her unicorn friend’s. “How ya mean?” Rarity’s eyes narrowed wickedly, though her smile stayed rosy. “Oh, you know. My little ruffian, bad girl roughneck type, so butch? Former Boss Mare of Sweet Apple Acres, mare-stallion par excellence, rootin’-tootin’ cowpony so strong she can make Rainbow Dash a wife and mother, hmm?” “That ain’t all by a long shot,” said Applejack, with a glance at Uni. “Whatcha drivin’ at, Rarity?” Her ears quirked in perplexity. Rarity smiled. “Would YOU, dear Applejack, like to be a loving wife and devoted mare-mother, also?” The glow that came over Applejack was something to behold, and Rarity drank it in quite unselfishly. Her ear flicked just a bit as she filed the joyous picture under both ‘friendship’ and ‘might have been’… but Rarity had no regrets about the unfolding of her life, and only considered the image of ‘luminous, feminine Applejack awaiting the mating of a stallion Rarity’ as one fragment of a kaleidoscopic history, neither to be repudiated nor clung to. Anyhow, they’d tried that experiment and Rainbow Dash was far more suited to Applejack’s rambunctious, country-pony side, so Rarity happily contemplated the essence of femininity she saw, content to be part of that life rather than central to it. Applejack pouted, sticking out her lower lip. “Anyways,” she said, “that’s why I need Rainbow to come an’ fuck me NOW, dammit!” She stamped a hoof aggressively, and then flinched and looked abashed, for she’d made a small dent in the floor of the Carousel Boutique. Rarity did not flinch, and her smile did not waver, nor even one ear lay back from its position. “And you’re still as gentle as ever,” she teased. Applejack’s huge smile returned, and she trotted over and hugged Rarity. “Yep! So that’s my story. Part of it,” she said, glancing at Uni. “Maybe I’ll tell you the rest sometime. If ya promise not to get kinky ideas.” Rarity laughed. “No promises, darling! I am nothing if not full of ideas!” She smiled back at Applejack… and then, both turned, to regard Uni. “All right,” said Applejack. “Why’d you say my brother ain’t leaving Neighpon? Ah don’t like the sound of that, and it seems like Rarity thought that would happen too, and never said a thing about it!” Uni tapped a hoof delicately on the floor. “I don’t know. I have seen the signs. A foreign pony comes to our land, and the beauty captures them. There is no escape. We say, ‘just once surrounded - by swirls of cherry blossoms - the world disappears’. After all, Neighpon is the most beautiful of all places, with the best ponies and gardens, all watched over by Kirin who love us. How can they not fall in love with our world?” Applejack and Rarity shared a glance. “WE got apple turnip cakes,” said Applejack laconically. “And Princesses,” added Rarity. “And Canterlot fashions.” “Mind you, your country is right perty, too, in its own way,” added Applejack. “But before you get carried away with it, remember who’s givin’ ya the apple turnip cakes.” “Oh, really, Applejack,” sniffed Rarity, “I hardly think that culinary hallucination compares to Canterlot, or even the Whitetail Woods on a lovely fall evening…” “Know yer mare,” hinted Applejack. “Look at ‘er.” Uni wiped her mouth hastily with the back of a dainty hoof. “I am fine! But I agree, I will honor the home of your apple turnip cakes. I did not mean to offend. Only to explain why your Big Macintosh will stay in Neighpon. There is a look in the eye when a pony has set hoof on our shores and is filled with determination to experience our beauty…” “Well, he did that already,” said Applejack, “several times if I ain’t readin’ too much into the situation. Still cain’t hardly believe a lil’ thing like that could fit him.” “Oh, yes,” said Rarity. “I saw them together. It’s not your country, dear Uni, that he craves. I knew deep in my heart that he is on a more personal quest. He’s going to go find his mate. It’s terribly romantic, but I couldn’t help but weep, because he is part of us, and we may never see him again.” “Now see here!” said Applejack. “We damn well are gonna see him again, ain’t you ever heard of visits and vacations? An’ secondly, that ain’t the feeling I got off of him an’ Hina. I get that he was swept off his hooves by the fussy lil’ critter, but she went back home! Don’t you think she would’ve stayed with us if they were gonna be a couple?” “Immaterial,” said Rarity. “Perhaps they will return. Not to be over-blunt about it, I have owned Big Macintosh’s heart and you have not… not in the sense you know I mean. I can tell. He is following Hina, and where she goes, he will go. They’re mates, it happened right under our noses and we didn’t spot it. As for her returning to Neighpon, she has business there, obviously, darling.” “Yeah?” argued Applejack. “Well, one thing about it, it explains why he was so hot to go there! You figure he wants more Kirin tail? I’m sure she ain’t complainin’. Prob’ly arranged it all ahead of time.” She turned triumphantly to Uni. “But you can’t say he’ll never leave Neighpon! It ain’t what you think. Ah say, nope! Simpler explanation. Big fella’s shacked up with a Kirin wife, that’s all. They kin make their home there AND here, and be welcome to it. I’m sure she’ll love Ponyville as much as we do.” Uni studied her, and then issued her pronouncement. “Nope!” “Aw COME on…” “If you are correct, you must prepare to welcome him home with a broken heart,” said Uni. “What you suggest is impossible. No Kirin would fall in love with a single earth pony stallion. Your unicorn friend is mistaken as well. The Kirin, Hina, would not be returning to Neighpon for business.” Rarity blinked. “Forgive me, but I have read about your country, and aren’t your Kirin deeply involved in many aspects of…” “She would return to Neighpon because it is her LIFE,” said Uni. Her eye glistened just a bit, for the first time either Applejack or Rarity had ever seen. “If she is a Kirin, she is our land and the land is her. The ponies don’t own Kirin any more than the grass or the trees do. She loves and protects it all, with a wisdom beyond anything else on this world. This is the truth of my home.” Applejack bridled faintly, muttering “Princesses…” but Rarity shushed her and turned to Uni again. “Oh, dear. You are saying that, even if Big Macintosh is on a grand romantic quest, it must prove unfruitful? When he learns that this Hina will not abandon her duties and sit about rubbing his hooves, he’ll turn tail and run back home in tears because she will reject him?” Uni’s ears laid back. “Rubbing his hooves? It sounds like what the pegasi used to make pony villages do. That and sucking their dicks. Who would sit around rubbing their stallion’s hooves when there are useful things to be done?” Applejack and Rarity shared another glance. “Fluttershy,” they said, and Rarity turned back to Uni. “But you’re certain that this Kirin will break his heart and send him straight home like the silly horse he is?” “Aw, c’mon!” said Applejack, and considered. “Mind you, you got sort of a point there. Not jes’ on your head, I mean.” Rarity swatted her with a hoof, gently. “Uni! Are you sure?” The little Neighponnese mare looked dismayed. “You express it all wrong! How can you put it in such hurtful terms? Don’t you know what a Kirin is?” “Maybe not as well as Big Macintosh does!” said Applejack. She thought, remembering. “I did like it, though, when I tried it. That feller, wow! If he was fixin’ to do me like that every night, I swear I’d have a hard time stayin’ on the farm. Hooo-eee!” Rarity turned. “You had sex with one? Tell, tell!” “Not now,” retorted Applejack. “I’ll tell ya later. It’s really somethin’. First things first. Uni, we’re talkin’ about whether Big Macintosh is gonna stay or come home! You’re tellin’ us he likes the pretty flowers. We are tellin’ you that it’s a filly-flower he’s chasin’, and what’s more a real damn specific one stuck between the legs of a young lady Kirin who’s returned to Neighpon. I think Rarity’s right, and he’s chasin’ that Hina. I know my brother and he’s a romantic fool in his own way, and I kin believe it. Uni, if she ain’t gonna break his heart and chase him right back home, what the hay is she gonna do with him?” Uni contemplated this, and the ponies let her. Finally, she spoke. “To love a Kirin is not wrong. We all love our Kirin. None of us would dare try and own the heart of one… the very idea seems impossible. Wishing to do so… I think the Kirin would be gentle. I don’t know what she should tell him. We know, you see. We know it is impossible, and if he does not, he will have to learn. They are not like us. They are something grander and better, and we depend on that wisdom, but they are not like us so I cannot know what the Kirin will do with your brother.” They were quiet for a moment, and then Rarity addressed the Neighponnese mare. “Kirin may be more like our Princesses than you think, Uni. And our Princesses are still ponies, you know.” “They sure are!” said Applejack. “Why, there’s been times we all rushed off to rescue Twilight’s marefriend, and it turns out Princess Luna got a lil’ too attracted, and dang, the things they were gonna get up to. Of course that ain’t no different to what Twilight and Trixie do with each other normal-like. If you call that normal, which Ah don’t.” “Uht!” cautioned Rarity. “Too much information! Of course we’re not suggesting Kirin go around seducing ponies into bondage dungeons.” She considered this for a moment. “Er… do they?” “Wipe your chin, Rarity,” teased Applejack. “I am NOT drooling!” “You ought to be,” chuckled Applejack, “and I ain’t checked both ends, y’know. Uni! The point we are haphazardly makin’ is this one. Maybe your Kirin, and our Princesses, ain’t so different. All sorts of critters love. I saw that Hina, an’ I saw her with Big Macintosh. Not gittin’ with Big Macintosh, I mean—just bein’ cozy, friendly. She din’t seem that impossible to me.” “Kirin seek justice,” said Uni. “Kirin have a duty. It’s more important than their own lives. They seek out and destroy darkness, and celebrate beauty.” “Do you think this Kirin is likely to try and destroy Big Macintosh?” asked Rarity, raising an eyebrow. “For instance, if he professes his love and wants to cram his penis into her at some inconvenient time? And before you ask, I never saw him do it to her and it seems faintly implausible, unless she’s adept with rather specialized magic tricks.” “Kirin are adept at all magic!” protested Uni. “Won’t catch me arguing about that,” said Applejack. “Woooo-eee!” “The point I’m trying to make here,” said Rarity, “is this: Big Macintosh is a good pony. I may not know everything about Kirin, but I can tell you that I myself was the subject of the Kirin’s attention. I shall never forget it. Most impressive… and if she didn’t choke on me, darling, there’s no chance she would balk at Big Macintosh. Why, I entertained her and Big Macintosh for breakfast one day, until Sweetie and Derpy Hooves got defensive and chased her off.” “They did what?” gawked Applejack. “Long story, darling… but do you see? Perhaps, as a Neighponnese pony, you are so good and obedient and peaceful that you can’t imagine your Kirin being close with, ah ha, earthier ponies with more spunk. But I assure you, this Hina studied me with great interest. She saw all of my darkness, and she was very strict with me about it, but she loved me all the same and wished me well. And I promise you, Big Macintosh is a cupcake by comparison.” Applejack frowned. “You ain’t seen him in every light. Maybe you should ask Fluttershy about that one.” “Oh,” said Rarity. “As it happens, I did. Erm… I’ve had words with Fluttershy about that evening. Let us say, if the Kirin was around to see her provoking those stallions, she would have blown up in a big shower of sparks.” Rarity licked her lips. “What a wicked, wicked night that was.” Uni hesitated. “Are you afraid the Kirin will smite your Big Macintosh, because he’s got wickedness in his past?” “You’re the one telling us she’s bound to send him away,” said Applejack. “I thought they looked perty snuggly, myself.” Rarity gulped. “We’d better ask, I think. Is he in danger? You’re telling us his attentions will be unwelcome. She’ll read him like a book. What then?” “Kirin see the good in ponies, through any darkness,” said Uni. “That is their gift and obligation.” The words seemed to shock Rarity. Her eyes glistened. “Yes,” she said, “yes they do. She saw the good in me.” “And me,” said Uni. Rarity blinked. “What is so surprising about that? You are a sweet little Neighponnese pony.” “I am Kabochaebi,” said Uni. “The Kirin still love me, because I believe in good.” “What a charming name,” said Rarity. “Can I use it for some of my designs?” “Best not,” said Applejack, hastily. “I am Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp,” said Uni. “The scourge of the seas… until I and my crew surrendered to the Kirin, and their justice. I was the most terrifying pirate queen in all Equestria.” She blinked. “Though I’m sure certain other ones were very intimidating in their own right, and I don’t mean to belittle anypony.” “Movin’ right along!” squeaked Applejack, blushing, but Rarity didn’t notice. “Eee!” she squealed. “You’re in one of Twilight’s history books! Sweetie asked me if you were real!” “What did you answer?” said Uni, lifting an eyebrow. “Er… I said probably not,” admitted Rarity. “The tales of your destructiveness seemed exaggerated.” The little Neighponnese pony whinnied in satisfaction, trotting in place, and then controlled herself. “We are much better now. The Kirin explained to me that I must forever seek the good, because I am forever balancing between good and evil.” “I reckon most ponies might say that,” said Applejack. “Who ever heard of a pony that was totally good without a wicked bone in their body?” She and Rarity glanced at each other. “Derpy Hooves,” admitted Applejack. She caught the twinkle in Rarity’s eye, and added, “I mean bones of their own, dang it!” “It sounds like you, Uni, have demonstrated the tolerance of the Kirin even more than I have,” said Rarity. Uni blinked. “Oh, no. There is no tolerance. I surrendered to the justice of the Kirin,” she explained. “That has never changed. My crew and I grew tired of blood, tired of violence. We expected to die. At least five of my crew fled, and died to the Kirin.” Ponyville pony jaws dropped in tandem. Kabochaebi pouted. “I told you, Applejack. Not all of us made it to the town where we surrendered. What did you think would happen to such wicked pirates? They died.” “But… Kirin see th’ good in anypony, includin’ my brother…” said Applejack. Uni gave her a look. “But they chose badness,” she said. “I never said the Kirin were fools, Booties.” Braeburn crept through the night, keeping near the treeline and navigating by the moon and stars. Turned out it was the same stars over Neighpon, which came in handy, though he couldn’t see them nearly as well as he could from the Appleloosan prairie. It didn’t matter: he knew where he stood. He headed north, for the musical tour would have headed toward the capital. He figured he might see posters, or find clearings where a little stage had been set up. A sound impended. At first quiet, like a desultory tearing of cloth, it expanded suddenly in loudn WHAM! Braeburn reeled, knocked senseless. The last time he’d been hit that hard, it had been a flying tackle from Rainbow Dash, and so he looked upward in the moonlight to see if he was pinned down by a cerulean pegasus mare. Instead, he saw a heart-wrenchingly familiar coat color, but the size was all wrong… “I am the great Moeru!” proclaimed his captor. “And you are the Sneaking Spy, and you’re my prisoner!” “Ah am?” managed Braeburn. Moeru nodded happily. “I caught you. That was a great tackle! It was dark but I saw the glint of your eye and I swerved and wham! I got you! All your limbs were flailing in the air for a second until I pinned you against the ground. Did any of them come off? Once I tackled a pony so hard it ripped one of his legs off.” Braeburn gulped. “Don’t think so, mister. Ain’t that kinda rough?” Moeru shrugged. “We were hunting pirates. The Kirin warned me they would hurt me if I gave them a chance, so I went all out. That one didn’t suffer long, the Kirin were right there. You’re my Sneaking Spy, but you don’t talk like an evil pony so are you sure your appendages are all right? We can go and get you healed if you’d like.” “Gosh, I wish ya could,” said Braeburn, looking at that alluring shade of brick-red in moonlight. “An’ that’s the truth.” It brought up memories of hiding on the prairie with his beloved Princess, the big red farm horse who was his heart and soul. “Sure!” said Moeru brightly. “I don’t think any Kirin are nearby, so we’ll have to walk. Which appendage is broken?” He prodded Braeburn’s limbs experimentally. “Jes’ my heart…” “What?” “Nothin’,” said Braeburn, rallying. “Gosh, you sure knocked me halfway to Appleloosa. Oh my, I ain’t sure I can stand up, much less run away or nothin’. You’re a fierce lil’,” and he looked the shadowy figure over, “…stallion?” “Yes I am!” boasted the great Moeru. His voice seemed as wispy as his figure, but he’d hit like a large flying rock. “Are you sure none of your limbs are broken?” “Ya ain’t checked ‘em all,” suggested Braeburn, taking a gamble. Moeru’s eyes widened in the moonlight. He was straddling his victim… but was increasingly aware he’d captured a stallion. Braeburn could just about get it up for a cactus if he really needed to, and the trick had already worked on one pegasus warrior. Something was stirring under Moeru’s belly. He smiled. “You are a stallion too. Captivity suits you? How, mister Sneaking Spy, do you think I should check this new appendage? What is so exciting all of a sudden, apart from the obvious answer, my glorious body that pins you to the ground without hope of escape?” Like hell there ain’t, thought Braeburn. He replied, “Uh… you remind me of somepony. Most beautiful pony in the whole world, if you wanna be particular. Kin ya blame me?” “There is no pony more beautiful than the great Moeru,” purred the pegasus warrior. He began to rub his belly against Braeburn’s burgeoning erection. “Ain’t there?” “You like stallion booty?” teased Moeru, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “You will, once I’m done with ya.” “You like stallion cock?” retorted Braeburn. He struggled to hang on to the suggestive tone, because the coat color was doing his head in. There’d been no other stallion for him since Big Macintosh, and now this pegasus boy was getting incredibly personal and even looked a little like his beloved, and his body reacted with a huge hard-on but his mind was screaming and refusing to cooperate… “And your stallion cock will like me,” purred Moeru. “I’ll ruin you for mares. Don’t worry, I’ll come and visit you while you rehabilitate. We keep our prisoners happy, when they’re good prisoners. You can’t ever escape me, so let’s start to make you more friendly and nice.” He was wriggling, now. Braeburn’s cock throbbed like it was trying to explode. “An’ what if I ruin ya with this here stallion cock?” said Braeburn, trying not to sound desperate. “What if I leave ya a beautiful pegasus puddle and ya can’t even twitch a wingtip, huh? Does that seem likely?” Moeru smiled down at him. “No,” he said, “but we can call it good behavior. I’m sure the Kirin will smile upon you for fucking me that well. I don’t think you understand. I’m the Great Moeru. I take all the cocks, and yours will be wonderful, I can already tell. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it wonderful for you too, and I’m really good, and I bet I could do you six times and still be ready for more. Want to bet? How much will you bet?” “Uh,” said Braeburn, at a loss. “Ain’t got much left but my life…” Moeru wriggled, then lifted his hindquarters, allowing Braeburn’s cock to sproing forth. “We’ll keep that. I like you, Sneaking Spy. I think I’ll keep you for myself. Now, come and let me show you what you’ll be doing for the rest of that life. I think you’ll like it, if you only try.” He rose, and slunk like a cat around Braeburn, who could see that everything about the lusty pegasus boy was erect: wings, cock, even the arch of his tail. Braeburn gulped, eyeing the pert round buttocks teasingly proffered to him. “And what,” said Braeburn, his mouth suddenly dry, “do ya think I’m gonna do with THAT?” The Great Moeru’s smile was wistful, bold, yearning. “I am yours. Love me,” he ordered, and pressed low, his rump sticking up, his cheek nuzzling the grass dreamily. Braeburn wandered over. Moeru gave a little coo, shot Braeburn an exultant glance, quivered with anticipation. Braeburn reared, but like he was a much older pony. “Oh, no,” he breathed. He was trembling as he came down onto Moeru’s hindquarters. His cock thumped the inside of Moeru’s leg. Moeru gave a little squee of desire. “Oh, yes!” he cried. His little noise was eerily, worryingly like noises Big Macintosh had made, on a prairie, so long ago. “Uhhh,” said Braeburn, shaking, his eyes tearing up. His heart felt like it was about to rip itself out of his chest in protest. Moeru didn’t even look back at him. Moeru nuzzled the grass, closing his lovely eyes, trembling as Big Macintosh had, once. Moeru crooned, “Love me!” Braeburn lashed out with a forehoof, cracking the giddy pegasus across the head, thrashing away from him awkwardly. Moeru collapsed. As Braeburn galloped away into the night, weeping hysterically, he yelled back at the unhearing pegasus warrior. “AH CAIN’T!” VsKawa and Yosuru crept through the night, keeping near the treeline and peering around by the light of the moon and stars. Kawa looked up, sharply. “Do you feel that?” he asked, but one glance told him that his Kirin companion felt it, too. Wrongness. Wickedness, tragedy, injustice, lurking in the shadows… “With me,” ordered Yosuru in a commanding hiss, but she’d taken only a few steps toward the danger when its nature revealed itself. At first slinking towards what might be an attacker, she began to gallop towards the opposite… an attackED. “Oh, no!” gasped Kawa. The sad little pile of disheveled feathers looked very small in the moonlight. And it looked small in the daytime, though indomitable, because it was the great Moeru. He’d seen greater days… and nights. “Don’t…” began Yosuru, worriedly, but Kawa had already reached out with his magic and lifted the pegasus warrior’s little head. Moeru stirred, then emitted a shrill whimper. He tried to cover his head with his wings. “Ow, ow ow ow ow!” “Don’t do that, little one!” begged Yosuru. “Why ow! not? ow!” wailed Moeru pitifully. Kawa had gone pale. He saw why not. Moeru was moving feebly, barely coordinated, and had every excuse for that: there was a visible dent in his head, from some terrible blow. Yosuru turned to Kawa, grimly. “Keep him from moving, and keep him alive! I will get Kantokusha, he would never forgive me if I failed him now!” “But you’re more powerful at…” began Kawa, but he was talking to the wind. Yosuru was just a receding streak in the moonlight, tearing across the hills of Neighpon at unthinkable speed to fetch the Kirin who looked after the town of Taikutsuna, adjacent to Kabochaebi. Yosuru was no doubt more powerful at keeping a grievously injured pegasus boy alive, but she was also faster at getting help. He turned to Moeru, biting his lip in anxiety, trying to work out the best course of action. What if the wild little pegasus tried to leap about, or flee? His fears were unfounded. Moeru didn’t move, not even his trembling wings. Moeru… cried. His voice was soft, perhaps because of his distress, perhaps because the pain of his injury forcibly subdued him. It wrung Kawa’s heart to hear it. “Why?” whimpered Moeru. “Ow… why did he hit me? I was going to be nice to him. It hurts, it hurts so much…” “Don’t move,” urged Kawa. “Help is coming.” “Am I going to die?” said Moeru softly. “It was not a battle. I didn’t want to battle him…” “Shh,” said Kawa, but couldn’t help but ask, “Who?” “The Sneaking Spy,” breathed Moeru. “I wanted to make love to the Sneaking Spy. He was so sexy. Oh, it grows dark…” “Hold on!” said Kawa. “Soon Yosuru will return, with… He arrives! Be strong, hold on!” It was two streaks that raced across the hills to join them. Yosuru’s speed was amazing, but the other streak kept right up. Racing to Moeru’s side, the haughty Kirin Kantokusha did not spare a glance for either the Kirin that had fetched him, or the Kirin who attended his townspony. Indeed, Kantokusha bumped Kawa aside, and stood over Moeru, his eyes huge and worried and his lip quivering in emotion. “My foolish pony…” “It’s you! Kushie-pie!” said Moeru feebly. “Kiss me, I am dying…” Kantokusha wiped a tear, making a face. “Nonsense. Don’t fidget. Yosuru, make your energies available, in case I need them.” “I can too!” said Kawa helpfully. “I suppose,” said Kantokusha dismissively. “Be quiet, I must focus.” His horn, glimmering in the moonlight like glacier ice, seethed and lit. The glow reached out to Moeru’s head, cradling it. “Ow, quit it!” whimpered Moeru. “You, be quieter,” ordered Kantokusha. “It serves you right if this hurts. It’s for your own good.” The words were strict, even harsh. All the while, the uptight Kirin’s powerful magic gently, delicately worked on the dent in Moeru’s head, controlling bleeding, healing tissue, knitting bone and restoring it to its proper place. Kantokusha looked angry, formidable as he worked, but all the same he was biting his lower lip as Kawa had, a telltale sign of anxiety. The anxiety gradually subsided as Kantokusha’s efforts bore fruit. He found less and less to do, and finally he loomed over his little pony, frowning, stroking Moeru’s mane. Yosuru and Kawa held their breaths, and Moeru himself lay quietly and obediently. “Have you healed his wounds?” asked Yosuru. “Yes, I have,” said Kantokusha. “YAY!” squealed the Great Moeru, and sprung up off the ground with a great flapping of wings. “Owies! Yay!” He whirled and pounced his Kirin, hugging and kissing Kantokusha even while his eyes crossed with giddy agony. “Stop that, calm yourself!” demanded Kantokusha, and his magic seized the demented little pegasus by the scruff of his mane, and held him at a distance. Moeru blinked at his rescuer. “Why does my head still hurt?” “Because something smashed it in,” explained Kantokusha wearily, “and now you must heal. Do you think I am Daiyam, there to knit together the thoughts of your very brain? I doubt even he could do that, and if he could, he would be horrified at most of those thoughts, little pony.” “Can I kiss you some more?” “No,” ordered Kantokusha. “You must tell me what happened. Another tree collision?” “Not as such,” said Kawa. The older Kirin glanced sharply at him, and then returned his gaze to Moeru. “What happened?” Moeru blinked, and then Kantokusha put him down and he sat politely and began to explain. “We were hunting the Sneaking Spy. You know? The creature that Kawa and Yosuru are seeking. It hides and creeps through the night. And I found it, and it was a very sexy stallion! So I pounced him, and captured him, and I was going to keep him prisoner and make him happy by letting him have sex with me a lot…” “Yes, yes, yes,” said Kantokusha looking more and more worried, “but then what happened?” “But that’s what makes me sad,” said Moeru, “cos he was just about to get started, he even had an erection and it was a really good one, and then… he HIT me…” Kantokusha’s eyes widened. He stared at nothing for a moment, too dismayed to speak. Then he glanced at Yosuru… and, after a moment, at Kawa with an expression that spoke eloquently of the low opinion he held of Kabochaebi’s second Kirin, the less powerful one brought in to be a good influence on Yosuru. And then, Kantokusha spoke to them. “You will accompany me. We go now. We will find this Spy. And he dies tonight…” “Wait!” squeaked Moeru. Kantokusha looked shocked. He glanced at Moeru, astonished that his vengeful justice should be challenged by the very victim of needless violence who’d just been harmed. He blinked at the warrior pegasus. “What?” Moeru scuffed a hoof on the grass. He made a face, laying his ears back, for his head still hurt in spite of Kantokusha’s healings. He stuck out his lower lip, petulantly. “You can’t kill him yet,” said the little warrior. “Because you claim that privilege for yourself?” said Kantokusha, disapprovingly. “You must let us administer this justice.” “No!” squeaked Moeru, and winced. “No. Not for that reason.” “What is troubling you?” said Yosuru, gently. Kantokusha shot her an annoyed glance, but it seemed to have helped. Moeru’s eyes glistened. “You can’t kill him until I get to ask him why.” he said plaintively. “It hurt my feelings. I was giving him love, and I was going to be nice to him. I have to know… Kushie-wooshie, please. I gotta know.” Kantokusha frowned, and did not immediately respond… Back in Ponyville, on the previous afternoon, three ponies had trotted cheerfully off to Sweet Apple Acres to conduct important turnip business. Uni (or Kabochaebi) led the way, eager to negotiate exclusive trade agreements to Apple Turnip Cakes in Neighpon… or, indeed, anywhere she could. She smiled, her eyes faintly narrowed, as she trotted along. If the language of the agreement gave her exclusive rights to distribution in Ponyville also, that would go politely unremarked upon unless it was time to renegotiate the contract. Of course, the way she’d frame it would be ‘Camelu, Zebrica, and all other foreign countries’. Everywhere was foreign to somewhere. Uni sped up, her gait bouncy. “Rarity?” said Applejack. “Got a moment?” “Why, yes,” said Rarity. “Shall we stop?” “No, no… jes’ let me bend your ear a mite while we head over to Sweet Apple Acres?” “Consider it bent, darling,” said Rarity, and quirked it Applejack’s way with alacrity. Applejack sighed. “Thankee… it’s just that Uni’s got me frettin’. You seem to know things about Neighpon? Ah thought I did, until we got talkin’.” Rarity’s gait was untroubled. “I don’t know everything, but I am nothing if not cosmopolitan! You may be surprised at how many ponies have had some contact with Neighpon. I’ve not been there, but I’m dear friends with several garment buyers from Neighpon. They are shrewd, even ruthless, but I am the artiste: when they get too demanding, I resort to the fainting couch and I wail and cry that they don’t love me, and they straighten right out.” “Y’don’t say?” “Oh yes. So what’s worrying you?” asked Rarity. “You don’t think Big Macintosh is in danger, do you? He’s there working for Vinyl and Octavia. If I know anything about Neighpon, it is that they will not treat underlings poorly. The Kirin are very strict about it, and my Neighponnese buyers take great pains to ensure that my creations are not sewn by exploited ponies, because they’ll answer to the Kirin for it. And of course, all of my creations are horn-sewn by myself.” “And us,” suggested Applejack. “You know, when you’re openin’ a store or such-like.” Rarity frowned. “Ah. That. Yes, I’d better watch it. Fortunate for me the Neighponnese buyers weren’t around for that one. And thank you again for that help, I fear I was a real hoof-full…” “Aw, don’t worry,” said Applejack. “But it ain’t Big Macintosh I was thinkin’ about. You do realize our Braeburn’s gone off after him? That’s my second cousin. Just how deeply honest and trustworthy do you figure ol’ Braeburn is at heart?” “Ah,” said Rarity. “Erm. He’s… well, he’s a persuasive fellow, I’ll give him that.” “Meanin’ he’s fucking his way across Neighpon, huh?” “You said it,” said Rarity, “not I. Hmmm.” “And then there’s Rainbow Dash,” added Applejack. “Ah love her like life itself, but pree-cisely how responsible and law-abidin’ do you reckon my Rainbow is, at heart?” Rarity grimaced. “I’m sure she can outrun anything in Neighpon, Applejack. And Flight Lightning is very quick, too.” “Thus leavin’ behind Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle,” continued Applejack. “You see what I’m drivin’ at? Exactly how sensible and wise are Scoots and Sweetie, when things get a lil’ too frisky? Naw, I’ll rephrase that, their kind of frisky won’t bother Neighpon none, and your Sweetie’s a gentle soul. How gentle is Scootaloo when something riles her?” “Stop it!” protested Rarity. “You’re making it seem like they’re galloping to their dooms! They’re all good ponies and you’re being a worry-wart, I insist that they’re in no danger! Least of all Big Macintosh, but of the others, I’m sure the worst that could happen is they’ll be scolded and sent home!” “Uni says they killed a passel of pirates,” said Applejack darkly. “She never tole me that before, and she should have done.” “And why is that,” said Rarity, and, with a sharp glance at her companion, “…’Booties’?” Applejack whinnied in surprise, and fell back a step. “Who’s that?” Rarity’s gaze was calculating and amused. “I read, darling. I thought I should know what Sweetie Belle was reading. For such an honest pony, you do contain murky depths, don’t you? What does that word mean to you, darling? Oh, don’t pout. I quite understand. But am I reading too much into that? To put it bluntly, darling, were you the Dread Pirate Booties of legend? It seems hard to credit, but strangely plausible.” Applejack pouted worse. “One of ‘em. It’s a long story.” “If only I’d known when we were dating,” purred Rarity. “Thank fuck ya din’t,” said Applejack sincerely. “Awww!” said Rarity, trotted closer and gave Applejack a little kiss as they travelled. “You’ll always be the lovely mare, to me, darling. Never fear. I do expect the whole sordid story when you’re ready. It is a sordid story, is it not?” Applejack made a face. “First mate to Blackmane, screwed every which way by him and th’ crew, pirated a bunch of poor buggers… yeah, that’s sordid as shit, thanks for askin’.” Rarity’s eyes dilated. “Ahnn. You did stop, though, surely that’s the important thing?” “Stole his damn crew and damn near killed him and taught the whole crew to be good in the end,” said Applejack. “Ah hope they stuck to it, but I did my best.” “You see my point?” shot Rarity, quickly and earnestly. Applejack blinked, and nearly stopped in her tracks. “No, I don’t know what the fuck you’re even drivin’ at, Rarity. What?” The elegant unicorn didn’t even break stride. “The Kirin have met you, and our companion Uni, formerly known as Kabochaebi. I’ve read a little about that name, or more accurately heard about it by way of Neighponnese garment buyer gossip. Both of you were the most dreadful pirate-ponies, but your true natures came out, and the Kirin loved you for it. I’ll be quick, Sweet Apple Acres approaches.” “You do that,” said Applejack, her ears perked forward in great interest. “You’re a lovely pony,” said Rarity, “and Uni is lovely though also a smidge scary. She speaks of pirates who would not follow her lead and be good, and that they were killed by the Kirin. And so you imagine that our ponies might meet the same fate… but, Applejack, you stayed very good once you committed to it.” “Yeah?” Rarity shot her a sharp glance. “I wallowed in the bondage clubs of Fillydelphia for years, darling. I too found my way to pony goodness, especially when I ceased living an enormous lie and began to be more honest with the world around me, but I have seen things you haven’t. You’ve cried, on occasion, just getting a whiff of that darkness.” She dropped her gaze, suddenly bashful. “You’ve led me out of it, in a sense.” “Course I would,” said Applejack loyally. “Did,” corrected Rarity. “But don’t you see? I know wickedness better than you. I’ve known ponies like these pirates Uni speaks of. Please trust me. There’s nothing to fear. Our ponies are much too good at heart. They wouldn’t harm a fly, and need not fear any Kirin. I promise.” Applejack smiled. “Awww! Thank you, Rarity. Who knew your history as a perverted monster whippy-corn would come in so handy?” Rarity reared and cuffed her, and Applejack jumped away, laughing. Rarity smirked. “Behave! I never did subject you to the lash!” “Are you really still doin’ that stuff?” said Applejack. “No,” said Rarity. “Derpy wouldn’t understand. Doesn’t, rather.” “You’ll be fine,” said Applejack confidently. “Good for you.” “But you do see my point?” said Rarity. “This is a civilized world. Ponies take care of each other. Trust that things will be okay. Really! Fluttershy is a vampire, and dead, and it was okay. And Pinkie Pie was not at all herself for a while there, and even then civilization managed to return, and goodness held sway. Love is stronger than fear, so don’t fear. Trust, and wait.” They drew up outside Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack leaned over and gave Rarity a little kiss. “Ah will. I promise, I will. Thank you, Rarity.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “It’s not like our ponies will go to Neighpon and begin beating the inhabitants senseless, is it?” Uni gasped. “No, no! They mustn’t do anything like that!” “They won’t,” said Applejack confidently. “Here we are! Diamond works pretty late addin’ up all them figures and things. Apple Bloom is probably finishin’ up with the farm ponies and it’ll be dinnertime soon.” She winked. “We kin make you apple turnip cakes. It might take me a while to talk Granny into it.” Uni salivated, then wiped her mouth and looked determined. “No! Save them all. For my exclusive distribution. In foreign countries,” she added shrewdly. “Who’s that?” called a weary, fillyish voice. Uni froze, her eyes widening. “I said, who’s that?” called the voice. Diamond Tiara was indeed at work, but her hearing worked quite well also, and she could tell immediately that it wasn’t just the usual ponies come to dinner. Uni’s accent was like nothing heard in Ponyville: Vinyl Scratch had a strong Fillydelphian accent, with not a trace of Neighpon. Inside the house, where Diamond had set up an office, youthful hooves galloped towards the visitors. She emerged, blinking into the sunset, looking cranky. “I thought I heard…” She stopped, eyes locked on Uni. “YOU!” Applejack and Rarity turned, to see Uni at bay, looking just as appalled. Her teeth were bared, and her ears back. “YOU!” retorted Uni, and scuffed the ground aggressively with a forehoof. “What are you doing here?” Diamond’s eyes narrowed, alarmingly. Her mouth curved in a hard little grin, but there seemed no humor in it. “What do YOU think I’m doing here?” “You are the negotiator for Rich Import/Export!” accused Uni. “And you,” said Diamond Tiara, “are Uni, wholesale food buyer from Neighpon.” Her grin got colder. “Right? Just a simple earth pony? Nothing further to say about yourself?” Uni’s eyes flared. Her teeth bared worse. “Uhhh, ya might not want to tease this pony,” cautioned Applejack, “and we already had the secret-names conversation, Diamond, don’t be frettin’ her with that…” “Sh!” said Diamond. Her eyes hadn’t left Uni’s. “So, ‘Uni’, I can guess why you’re here. What do you have to say about that?” Uni’s bared teeth took the form of a fierce grin. “I am here to make a deal with Sweet Apple Acres. I don’t have to tell you a thing more than that, Diamond Tiara. I am here with Applejack, and must speak with Granny Smith about something she’s invented. Go away at once, or the consequences will be dire when next we meet!” Applejack and Rarity stared in horror, but before they could react, a new head poked around the door-frame. “Some trouble?” said Apple Bloom. She looked tired, after a hard day of work as Boss Mare of Sweet Apple Acres, but completely unworried all the same. Diamond Tiara trotted over, and kissed her. “No, honey. Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ll handle it.” “All righty,” said Apple Bloom, and went back into the house, where the smells of dinner were beginning to waft enticingly out to the visitors. Diamond turned to face Uni again. Uni’s face was a picture of horror. “That’s who runs Sweet Apple Acres now,” said Diamond smugly. “Since you obviously didn’t know.” “Why would you say I did not know?” countered Uni. “And guess who is her marefriend?” added Diamond. The news rocked Uni, but she rallied gamely. “That is nice. I am happy for you, horrible little horse. Now summon her and please give us privacy,” said Uni, “because we must…” “AND,” continued Diamond Tiara, her eyes sparkling, “the business manager for Sweet Apple Acres.” Uni’s jaw dropped. For a moment the raging Mantis Shrimp looked out of her eyes, and Applejack and Rarity trembled. Then, Uni glanced imploringly at Applejack, as if begging for some kind of respite, some hint that it was all a big joke. Instead, Applejack sadly nodded at Uni, confirming it. Uni gulped. “Fuck you,” she told Diamond Tiara. Diamond’s eyes twinkled with twice as much glee. “Fuck you right back!” she retorted. “Fuck you twice!” returned Uni, stamping forward. “Fuck you eleven times!” retaliated Diamond Tiara. Uni gasped. Applejack and Rarity were speechless. “And all your crazy mathematics with you!” added Diamond Tiara, herself stamping forward to confront Uni nose to nose. The world seemed to stop… …until both Diamond and Uni burst into wild, raucous laughter, and hugged. “Nooo!” wailed Uni, giggling. “My horrible fate! Tell me why I should not go home right now?” “Oh no you don’t!” laughed Diamond Tiara. “You have to come to dinner, and tell me what in Equestria you’re after this time! Granny made oat cakes! We’ll feed you oat cakes!” “How many oat cakes?” asked Uni. Diamond smirked. “Eleven, of course. You have to promise you’ll do what we say in exchange for eleven oat cakes. I have it in writing.” She whacked Uni on the ear with a little hoof. Applejack eeked. “Settle down, you two! Diamond, you shouldn’t be roughhousing with her like that, I’m jes’ saying…” “Come inside!” called Granny Smith. “Supper’s ready!” Smirking, Diamond Tiara served her greatest rival oat cakes. “Oooone…” she said, placing an oat cake on her plate. Then, moving in mockingly with another, “…eeeeeeleveeenn.” Applejack boggled at Diamond, and scratched her head. “I’ll grant you, I’m not much for the fancy mathematics. On the other hoof, I kin still count, and I thought you’d mastered that too, Diamond Tiara.” Diamond giggled, smirking up a storm, as Apple Bloom gave her a skeptical look. “Maybe I can refresh your lil’ pony skills,” offered Applejack. “Ya started off just fine. Oooone… an’ then it goes, twoooo…” “Depends who you ask,” replied Diamond Tiara, helping herself to oat cakes. Granny Smith boggled. “Y’don’t say! Well, missy, around these parts I’m here to tell ya two follows one, just as sure as zap-apple harvests follow jumping around in bunny suits…” Uni looked inquiringly at her, then at Diamond Tiara, whom she seemed very comfortable with. “Don’t ask,” said Diamond dismissively. “Do they even have bunny suits in Neighpon?” said Rarity. “Not for that reason,” said Uni meekly. “Okay, I’m teasin’,” admitted Applejack, “but it ain’t fair, not lettin’ me in on the joke. Ah know you can count, Diamond Tiara, so what’s th’ deal?” Diamond snickered. “A one time deal, that’s what. You might ask Kabochaebi here about that.” They looked. Uni blinked back, meekly, without expression. “But nothing would happen,” said Diamond, “because she won’t tell you.” She sipped some water. “So I will.” “Is that all right with Kab… with Uni?” said Rarity. “Oh, thank you, Granny Smith, one will suffice.” “Y’sure?” “Derpy is cooking us a roast rutabaga,” explained Rarity, “I can’t stay long but I also can’t wait to hear this story…” Diamond Tiara cleared her throat. “I’d just begun handling international trade for my father, when I met THIS little demon. Innocent looking, isn’t she?” “You never can tell with pirates,” said Applejack innocently. “Go on.” “I shall. She came to set up a trade agreement: we would purchase a small number of olive barrels from Whinnytian farmers. My father warned me that the price ought to come between three and eight bits per barrel, since we were contracting with the farms directly through an intermediary, not through retail. I’d never dealt with Whinnytians before, but I knew a little bit about their history and I was charmed. I couldn’t wait to learn more. And the intermediary was this small, quiet Neighponnese pony. There was something about her, something to the eyes, but you never saw such a humble, quiet pony. She seemed almost shy to be talking to me, even though I was just a filly.” They all looked at Uni. There was nothing to her eyes, not at the moment. She gazed calmly at her oat cakes, serene as a rock in shade. “So,” Diamond continued, “she began to explain the different deals the farmers offered. She was their representative. She took a pencil, and wrote out their respective prices, and put it down to explain why that was. Nine bits per barrel, and that farmer had very rich and fine lands. Six bits, and that farmer was recovering from a difficult year: the previous year, his quality had suffered. Five bits, and the farmer in question was very old fashioned and insisted on selling at the prices he’d used when he was a colt. She explained that the farmers of this type never came with large crops, but that she would not offer a crop that didn’t at least produce the quantities we required. Seven bits, and she discouraged me from this farmer, explaining that the higher price did not always correspond to greater quality: higher prices corresponded to the ability to offer many barrels in a consistent way. Olives, she said, were all very similar when they came from the valleys of Whinnyce, where old fashioned farmers plied their trade generation after generation, back into antiquity.” She glared cordially at Uni, who mostly didn’t smile. “And then,” said Diamond Tiara, “she took her pencil, and she wrote two downstrokes: one, one. Or, I I? They were larger, as if the numbers were different. And I looked at her, and she said: In ancient Etrotscan numerals, I I meant two.” Applejack’s eyes widened. Apple Bloom began to grin. Diamond Tiara blushed, just a tiny amount. She continued, “She didn’t say a word. She just watched me, as I put together the pieces about the ancient Whinnytians, and I knew their history went back to the ancient Etrotscans, and I’d learned about the II and the V and the LC, all that stuff. And about the old fashioned farmers who couldn’t produce much, but worked the way they did of old. And the difference between quality and mass production. And I just reached out and shook her hoof. Father was going to be so proud of me. I’d interpreted the hints of this intermediary, and I knew we wouldn’t require quantities beyond what this old artisanal farmer could produce, so I signed right off on a deal to buy not less than two and not more than five barrels of exceptional olives a year over the course of three years…” Diamond Tiara sagged. “For eleven bits a barrel.” Apple Bloom cracked up, and gave Diamond a kiss. Diamond stared wryly into her oat cakes. Uni sat impassively, head bowed. “Now jes’ a consarned minute!” argued Granny Smith. “She had ye by the whosey-whatzey! You mean to tell me, you went back to Filthy Rich and he had you pay eleven bits per barrel? That’s highway robbery!” Diamond glanced at Granny. “Oh, don’t worry. I learned my lesson. In fact, Father honored the deal in part so I would remember. I think he was glad she taught me that lesson, at a relatively low cost. The olives were excellent, you know. True Whinnytian olives of the very highest quality.” “But…” began Granny Smith. “She never once said that wasn’t an eleven. She didn’t even say the farmer was offering a price of two bits per barrel. She wrote eleven, and told me that in ancient Etrotscan it meant two. Nobody does business in Etrotscan numerals. I had only myself to blame,” said Diamond Tiara. The ponies considered this. Applejack frowned. “Still… seems like kind of a harsh deal…” “You think so?” said Diamond, lifting an elegant eyebrow. “Listen to this. Uni! You remember that day.” “I remember many things,” said Uni softly. “What would have happened if I’d asked what that number was? Specifically, if I’d said, ‘is that number in Etrotscan numerals’?” Uni didn’t even blink. “I would have said, that bill is NOT in Etrotscan numerals.” “Then why’d you…” began Applejack. “Why would you say that, Uni?” demanded Diamond Tiara, chin held high. “Because,” said Uni, “I am a good pony.” She shrugged a tiny shrug. “You did not ask.” “Now see here…” said Applejack, and then stopped. She made a face. “Huh!” “When you saw her,” observed Rarity, “the two of you feigned terrible hostility, but then you hugged and we are enjoying both of your company. Diamond, do you like this pony? Uni, do you like Diamond?” Diamond and Uni glanced at each other, startled, expressionless. Then, silly grins began to spread over both their faces, until the answer was obvious: by all appearances, they adored one another. “Diamond Poop is best pain in the ass!” cried Uni merrily. “Kabochaebi… and you’d better believe I found out all about her, cost me five weeks allowance for my spies… is the most delightful monster in the whole world!” added Diamond Tiara. “What happened to the farmer?” asked Applejack. “Did he have trouble comin’ up with them super-excellent olives?” Diamond blinked. “No, of course not. He was one of the high-volume producers who could offer ten times the volume we started out at, with unfailing quality at a high price. By the time we renegotiated the contract we returned to him because our volume had expanded to where he was by far the best option. We do business with that farm to this day… at eight bits a barrel.” The ponies contemplated this. Then, Apple Bloom lifted an eyebrow. “Diamond Poop? Seriously?” Uni smirked, a hint of Kabochaebi peeking out. “Because she would poop diamond, like her name. Because she is TIGHT ASS!” “Uni, really!” gasped Rarity. “Rude!” Diamond had gone red. She wouldn’t look at Apple Bloom, who was smirking harder and harder. Applejack got it, and began to blush as well. Uni glanced around, and for the first time seemed dismayed. “Oh! Then we should move on to business. The wonderful Apple Turnip Cakes with salt and sour!” “We’ll do that,” said Diamond, “thank you, Uni. On to business!” “Yep,” said Apple Bloom with satisfaction. Diamond Tiara twitched, but didn’t whack her, and eventually the blush faded. Before it was quite gone, elements of smug had joined it, but Diamond carefully avoided further reference to pains, tightness, and asses all the same. “I wish to negotiate exclusive rights to distribute Granny Smith’s Apple Turnip Cakes,” said Uni, “to be defined as the recipe Applejack brought to Neighpon, sold wholesale, packaged in any way that retains quality as well as the ship journey did, and produced with substantially the same ingredients and balances of flavor as the first batch we bought.” Diamond Tiara blinked. “Bought?” she said, and Uni winced. “Yeah, she bought all we had,” said Applejack. “Never saw the like.” Uni seemed to be burning holes in her oat cakes with Kabochaebi’s eyes. Diamond Tiara smirked at the sight, turning in a leisurely way to Applejack. “For how much?” asked Diamond, with the laziness of a circling shark. “Uhhh,” said Applejack, “I had about seventy of ‘em left.” “How…” “Ten thousand Canterlot bits,” said Applejack. Rarity’s jaw dropped, as did Granny Smith’s. Apple Bloom began grinning wider and wider. Granny banged the table with a geriatric hoof, and cried, “Woohoo!” Uni grumbled, “Mugen, you dumbass,” into the table, refusing to meet anypony’s eyes for the moment. Applejack turned to her, distressed. “Ah’m sorry! It’s makin’ ya sad. It ain’t worth it?” “Careful,” cautioned Diamond, but Uni was considering. She made a face, and appeared to do mental calculations, and screwed up her brow in concentration… and then visibly relaxed. “It is worth it,” said Uni. “Yes! Smiles for everypony. Ten thousand bits for seventy, as promised. My sailors will transport your cakes for you, to Neighpon.” “For a price?” demanded Diamond, shrewdly. “Of course,” smiled Uni, glints of the Mantis Shrimp peeking out. “Sounds like we can afford it!” said Applejack, but Diamond waved her quiet. “We’re not done,” she said curtly. “We could transport those ourselves and you know it. I’ll concede that you have the shipping, Uni, obviously. There’s some benefit to hoofing off our responsibility when it leaves Manehattan’s shores…” Uni nodded, peacefully. Diamond’s eyes narrowed to see her regaining that serenity. “All right, Kaebi-chaebi-baby,” said Diamond, “let’s have it. How much? I think as actual freight we could fit… oh, hundreds of cakes into the hold of a ship. What’s your price?” “You know my history, Diamond-poop,” said Uni wryly. “Yes, I do. I know you can do shipping,” said Diamond. “What worries me is, I can see you thinking.” “Two deals,” said Uni. “Either a shipping charge of one thousand four hundred bits for each fully laden journey from Manehattan to Neighpon…” “That’s high,” said Diamond. “Nopony and nothing interferes with my ship or my crew,” said Uni calmly. “We assume all liability from the shore of Manehattan and out.” “That helps,” said Diamond. “But that’s close to twice the usual freight voyage.” Uni shrugged. “We must travel empty from Neighpon, to pick up the Apple Turnip Cakes.” “No way,” said Diamond. “I know you. You’ll be running cargo the other way. I don’t have to pay for an empty run when you’re already getting paid to make the run to Manehattan.” Uni lifted an eyebrow. “You are offering to contract with us to import goods from Neighpon, guaranteeing that load each time?” Diamond’s eyes widened. “Did I say that? No way! We’re selling you guys apple turnip cakes, not buying stuff!” Uni gave a tiny shrug. “Then as far as you know, we journey to Manehattan always empty. One thousand four hundred for each fully laden trip to cover all eventualities, take it or leave it.” Diamond’s eyes narrowed again. “Or?” “Yes?” “You said two deals, and you’ve only mentioned one.” Uni did not smile. “You also said fully laden trip,” added Diamond, “and I need you to…” “Four hundred cakes or more,” said Uni. “Naturally, you’ll do better with more. We don’t have to make trips carrying less.” “That’s fair,” said Diamond Tiara, “we can do that. So what’s deal two?” Uni collected her thoughts. “One thousand NINE hundred bits, as one down payment, for my ownership percentage in the boat used to transport Apple Turnip Cakes. Then you assume responsibility for shipping, and pay no additional charge above the ten thousand bits for seventy,” said Uni briskly. “I would ask that if you select this option, we renegotiate to… eighty cakes, for ten thousand bits? Eighty Apple Turnip Cakes, specifically.” The Sweet Apple Acres ponies stared at her, thinking. “Hmm,” said Applejack. “You know, I’m a pretty good sailor. If we handle it right, I ain’t sure the security would be that much less. Though I’m not sure this is a great time to be goin’ to sea. For me, I mean.” “Oh, no!” said Rarity. “I mean, I agree, we needn’t say why here, but trust me on this, you won’t want to be at sea. Dear me, such an idea! You’ll have to get another captain.” “Down payment?” demanded Diamond, staring at Uni, who sat impassively. “I need more information. Never mind your down payment. Forget that. What’s your TOTAL figure for…” “One thousand nine hundred bits total, for my ownership percentage in the boat used to transport Apple Turnip Cakes,” said Uni quickly. “Deal? Then you assume responsibility for shipping.” She stuck out her hoof. Diamond Tiara didn’t react. She had a fierce little smile on, and she wasn’t looking at anypony. She seemed to be hardly breathing, she was thinking so hard. Then, one eye twitched. “Oh, you,” she said, reverently. “Diamond?” inquired Uni. Diamond shook herself. She turned to Uni. “Used?” “Nopony is selling a brand new boat, Diamond Tiara,” said Uni, meekly. “Oh no. Oh no no no,” said Diamond. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Uni. In your sentence, are you saying ‘to be used’? To be used, to transport apple turnip cakes?” Uni froze, expressionless. “No, Diamond.” “Then, are you saying, ‘the boat already used to transport apple turnip cakes’, Uni?” A hesitation. “Yes, Diamond.” Unexpectedly, Diamond was banging the table with her hoof, grinning like a maniac, tossing her mane in glee. “Whut the hay?” demanded Granny Smith. “Yeah, what th’ heck is goin’ on here?” asked Applejack, visibly dismayed. “Listen. Listen and learn,” grinned Diamond Tiara. “Uni. My dear Uni, so clever. What boat WAS used to transport apple turnip cakes?” “We sailed back in the boat,” said Uni, plainitively. “Ah don’t see what you’re drivin’ at…” said Applejack. “That’s the boat you sailed in,” said Diamond triumphantly. “What was its provenance?” “Huh?” “Where’d you get it?” “Manehattan,” said Applejack, confused. Across the table from her, Rarity’s eyes widened suddenly. Diamond couldn’t stop grinning. “Did you buy or rent it from Kabochaebi? Uni, here?” “We sailed back together! But naw, it was some other feller! Ah don’t know who he got it from?” Diamond turned on Uni. “Restate the deal.” “One thousand four hundred for each fully laden trip of not less than four hundred cakes, that would be more than fifty-seven thousand bits of profit for you minus the one thousand four hundred for shipping giving you nearly fifty-six thousand gross, and we assume all liability for…” “No no no,” interrupted Diamond. “The other deal, Uni. Go on. We’re waiting.” They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Uni gave a little, defeated shrug. “One thousand nine hundred bits, as one down payment and total sum, for my ownership percentage in the boat used to transport Apple Turnip Cakes. Then you assume responsibility for shipping, and pay no additional charge above the ten thousand bits for seventy cakes. No minimum shipment.” “The boat that was used?” “The boat that was used,” conceded Uni. “And you want it renegotiated to eighty cakes, because you’re losing so much on the deal?” pressed Diamond Tiara. Uni gave a little defeated wave of her hoof. “Nah.” “Ah still don’t see what all this foofaraw is about,” said Applejack. Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. Across the table, Rarity had her head in her hooves, but it was difficult to tell whether she was crying or laughing. Diamond turned to Uni. “Uni, what percentage of that boat do you own?” The little, rueful halfsmile she gave was all Kabochaebi. “Zero,” said Kabochaebi. Applejack’s eyes widened in horror. Apple Bloom beamed at Diamond, filled with gratitude and pride in her mate. “We’ll take deal ONE,” said Diamond Tiara, and they clacked hooves to seal it. And it became obvious: Rarity was laughing, laughing until she nearly fell off her chair. Green BalloonsThe skies over Neighpon were crystal blue, almost too perfect to be real. Colorful pegasi in pointy costumes zipped across the sky: patrolling, but not finding monsters, weird or otherwise. When they passed over a certain valley, their ears turned, and they soared as if finding thermals over the small natural amphitheater. They pirouetted, in pairs or alone, keeping still and quiet in their meditative flight, so they could listen. Far below, Octavia didn’t pay any attention to them. She didn’t even see the exquisite valley before her. She was practicing, with perhaps a little bit of composing… and her bow coaxed out the sounds of sweet loneliness and yearning, for she missed her Stout Heart. He was her companion, as well as her libido. And she was Octavia, so without a second thought she labored for minutes that stretched into hours and turned even her most intimate feelings into the grist for performance. She was Octavia, so she was the music… and the music demanded to speak. Overhead, some of the silently circling pegasi dripped teardrops, which she mistook for impending rain. A comfortable trot away, Big Macintosh and Vinyl Scratch rested on a hillside, watching the distant pegasi circle. “They like that,” said Vinyl. “They’re sentimental. Maybe it’s a part of them being so fierce.” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. “You wouldn’t think so. When I was a little filly, I saw two of ‘em fight an aerial duel. You never saw so many Kirin in your whole life. These two, they had some kinda dispute about territory, or a stallion, or territory AND a stallion, and they wouldn’t make nice. They did one pass, top speed. Neither of them swerved, and they both got crippled when they hit. It was gross, all feathers fluttering down, and, um, a body part…” “Mares?” said Big Macintosh curiously. “Nah, they were both stallions. Sometimes it’s worse when the gay stallions fight. They can be really ruthless.” Big Macintosh winced, a shadow darkening his face. “Anyway,” said Vinyl, “the Kirin were right there. Neither of ‘em died, and it was the weirdest thing: they seemed to relax after that. It was like they turned a page on their old lives. Which of course they did, they stopped being warriors ‘cos they stopped having working wings. The Kirin were kind of pissed off about it, at least the younger ones. The older Kirin seemed to take it in stride?” “…Eyup,” confirmed Big Macintosh, distracted. “Anyway it’s all part of how they are,” said Vinyl. “Romantics. I’m not surprised at our pegasi hanging around Tavi to listen to her music.” “Eyup.” “Instead, I’m surprised at you,” said Vinyl Scratch. Big Macintosh jolted. He glanced at her in alarm, but the famous DJ wasn’t even looking at him, and didn’t react. “Did Ah do somethin’ wrong, ma’am?” asked Big Macintosh. “Ah don’t mean no offense. Ah don’t know y’alls Neighponny ways. And what I did see, uh, uh, well it’s a caution.” “It’s not that,” said Scratch, gazing into the sky. “Then whut?” A quick flick of the eyes behind the rosy shades. “What’s bothering you, Big Macintosh?” Big Macintosh pouted. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” “Hey, remember who I’m roomies with,” said Scratch. “When Octavia doesn’t want to talk, she’s a wall. You might also remember what I do for a living.” Big Macintosh’s ears quirked. “Loud thumpin’ music tells ya what’s botherin’ ponies?” That got him a glare. “I can tell by how you move,” said Scratch. “We’re riding in a cart behind you, and moving the cart’s your job every day. I can see your gait, and the way you look around at stuff. You’ve been really excited, and I get that: it’s a beautiful country. But you’re getting worried. I want to know why.” Big Macintosh stared at her for a while, unhurriedly. “Ma’am…” “I knew it! Out with it, come on.” “Ma’am… mah family don’t talk about their feelin’s either. Jes so’s you know.” “Well, we’re miles and miles away from them, so now’s your chance…” “Ah’ll tell you mine if you tell me your’n,” said Big Macintosh. “Ain’t fair to be pickin’ on just me.” Scratch blinked. She lowered her shades, peered over them. “What?” “You’re ridin’ me so hard on account of you’re avoidin’ somethin’ your own self,” said Big Macintosh. “You been ridin’ Octavia too, for the last couple days. I reckon we both would surely like to know what crawled up your… uhh, I mean, we’d sure like to know what’s th’ matter.” The ruby eyes were wide and hurt… but then, rather than going tearful, they suddenly scrunched closed and Scratch made a face. “Shit,” she said. “Sorry,” said Big Macintosh. “Anyways, Ah’ll tell you mine if you fess up. Uhh… I guess I nailed it? It’s that or you just turned mean, and I honestly cain’t see that in ya.” “Yeah, thanks,” said Scratch grumpily. “No, seriously, I do mean it, and it’s good that you said so. Tavi always lets me go sour for a while and she really shouldn’t, she’s way too nice sometimes. I… guess I can tell you. It’s kind of personal and business combined, and I… listen, you go first. Okay? I don’t think you could possibly understand what I gotta do when we reach Chuo-sho province, so you have to give me time to explain it. To somepony who’s not in show business, that is. I mean, you are but you aren’t, you don’t have the same responsibilities. Not that mine is exactly a respons… yeah, give me time to think, okay? I have to frame this in a way that’ll make sense to you.” Big Macintosh blinked. “You figure I ain’t smart enough? That’s not nice, Vinyl Scratch.” “No, it’s me. Being not smart but way too fuckin’ ambitious… seriously, can you go first? I promise I won’t take it out on you guys anymore.” “It ain’t that bad,” reassured Big Macintosh. “Remember Ah’m used to gettin’ bossed by mares, it don’t bother me. Jes’ seemed unusual, comin’ from you.” “I wasn’t that bad?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Naw.” “Thanks, I’m glad of that. You might have caught me before I made Octavia unhappy, and if so I really owe ya one. Consider these well-tuned ears all yours, for the purposes of listening to your troubles. I’m not sure what could be troubling you since you’re travelling through beautiful Neighpon while fucking random mares at nearly every stop… a lot of stallions would consider that the best vacation ever, so it’s unsettling to see you worried and restless. Are you afraid they’re gonna come after you?” “I never worried that before,” said Big Macintosh. “Should I be?” “Nah. Even less than in Ponyville. The Kirin take care of all that. And traveling musicians are a little like warriors… we’re supposed to be wild and free and screwing the townsponies.” “You ain’t,” said Big Macintosh. Scratch winced. “Not yet. I told you, you first. What’s going on? I promise I’ll explain my thing, it’s just… complicated.” Big Macintosh sighed. “Yeah. So’s mine, I reckon. Ah’m in love, Miss Vinyl Scratch. An’ she’s in love with me… but I got to find her, and that ain’t easy.” Scratch blinked. “Find her? Here? Since when did you meet a Neighponnese pony?” Big Macintosh’s pout was hurt, truculent. Vinyl Scratch gawked, uncomprehending, and then her eyes widened in realization… Braeburn skulked through the long grass like a snake, barely making a sound. If he stuck to the less garden-y areas, he reckoned, he was in with a chance. He was certain he’d heard Big Macintosh, Vinyl Scratch and Octavia talking about how they would head for the capital up North. So long as he got there without encountering any more of them ninja pegasus ponies, he’d… “Eeee!” Before even thinking, Braeburn had reacted. He pounced, pinning down the unexpected shrieking obstacle in his path, gagging the critter with a firm hoof so it couldn’t scream out and call the pegasuses. And then he looked, to see what sort of captive he had. And didn’t it just have to be an adorable Neighponnese earth pony mare? “Ah don’t wanna hurt you,” he muttered into her pinned-back, terrified ear. “You were jes’ in the wrong place at th’ wrong time. First, you’re gonna be quiet. Nod if ya understand me.” She nodded, frantically. “What th’ buck are you doin’ out here sneakin’ around in the long grass, anyhoof?” “Mmph,” she replied, apologetically. Braeburn rolled his eyes. “All righty then. Next lesson: when ya do talk, talk quiet-like. I’mma turn your head around a lil’, look me in the eyes and nod if you underst… sweet Celestia!” Part of that had gone well. She’d turned her head around as he wished, and there was no sign of trouble there. She’d looked him in the eyes and even nodded… but that turned out to be more than he’d bargained for. The mysterious grass-sneaking mare was herself the color of grass, with a very short-cropped blonde mane, and had lovely coppery-gold eyes. But they were slitted, like those of a snake. Braeburn froze. His gaze crept lower to where the back of his hoof still covered her mouth, his fetlocks muffling her sounds. “Do ya got fangs?” was all he could think to say. Tears instantly filled those creepy eyes, and she shook her head fiercely. Braeburn thought he could feel her lower lip quivering against his fetlock. He sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna let go, and we’re gonna talk more nicely. Might not be my smartest decision, but please don’t cry, that’s all I’m sayin’, ma’am.” He released her. She continued staring at him, transfixed, taking in his scruffy cowpony visage, the signs of strain and weariness, the dark circles under his eyes. Braeburn, in turn, studied her. Those eyes were something else, but in every other respect she seemed… no, there was something about the skin. He couldn’t feel it with his hoof or fetlock, but he could see it: her coat was odd, too. And her mane didn’t seem to extend down her neck in the usual way… and she was awful slender, and though her rump looked basically ponylike in the manner of some of the high-fashion Canterlot unicorns, Braeburn thought he could see a difference in her tail, as well. It wasn’t quite a Kirin tail, but it was bare up at the dock, as if taking that fashion trend for wrapping up the dock and going a step further, to actual depilation. Braeburn realized she was still staring at him submissively, even though his jaw had dropped in astonishment. Of course, he was a pretty formidable-looking character after days of brush-sneaking and foraging, and he’d certainly jumped her and covered her mouth while pinning her down: there wasn’t much more he could to do be dominant short of nipping her butt. And that might or might not be a sensible tactic, he thought. “What are you?” he asked. Those coppery-gold eyes filled with tears again. She gulped. “I’m a little pony.” “You’re a little SCARY,” corrected Braeburn, and then his ears laid back, hard. The strange little cutie’s face twisted, and she heaved a deep breath and released it in a bawl of miserable woe. She got out about half a second of “WAAAA…” and then it was converted firmly to ‘mph!’ and Braeburn had covered her mouth again. The difference was, this time he was frantically cuddling and petting her at the same time. “No, baby, no, Ah’m sorry, don’t cry, especially don’t cry so dang loud, okay?” stammered Braeburn. “I won’t say that no more, I promise, deep breaths, all right cutie?” He stroked her, nuzzled her neck, pleaded. “It’s all gonna be okay, if you jes holy Princess patooties what the hay is up with your skin?” That didn’t help at all. Braeburn continued to hold her and keep her quiet, while he thought over the trajectory of his overtures. “Naw,” he said. “It’s beautiful skin, ma’am. Soft as any pony I ever met, and you know them teeny teeny tiny light green scales, it’s real perty.” She wriggled, not so much to escape as just a heave of tragic dismay in Braeburn’s grip. Her elegant little muscles played under the silky-soft but distinctly scaly hide. Braeburn was reminded of a fish, except those were cold and she was warm… well, not really as warm as one would expect, if he was honest, but all the same she was a heck of a lot warmer than a fish. Cool-blooded? He looked her in those eyes, as a tear dripped down her face. “Okay, you’re a pony,” he said. “You’ll forgive me for sayin’ you’re a special kind of pony, but if that’s how you want it, m’lady, pony you are. Happens I’m a pony myself. A pony on a mission. And we got a lil’ problem, ‘cos now you know I’m here. Can I let you go without you cryin’ and bellerin’?” She looked puzzled, but all the same she nodded, and Braeburn released his muffling fetlock once more. “What is ‘bellering’?” asked his captive, wrinkling her brow in thought. “Jes’ don’t do it no more. Who are you?” asked Braeburn. She wiped tears with the back of a hoof. Braeburn saw there were no fetlocks on her, just more of that mysterious scale right down to her hooves, almost right to the edge. “I am Subrii,” she said. “Please don’t say mean things? I really am a little pony. I come from a village around here. Our Kirin went through sort of a phase, with us…” “An’ started foolin’ around with your eyes and such?” She gave him a tearful glare. “No! It was my Mom fooling around. Lots of the maress did. I’m still a little pony. The Kirin will scold you for hurting my feelings!” Then, she gasped. Braeburn’s eyes burned, pinned her to the spot as surely as when he grabbed her. “That cain’t happen,” he said, with a chill in his voice, a dangerous cool. “We gonna have a lil’ conversation about that lil’ idea there.” Subrii quivered. She’d never seen anypony be so sexy and dominant without even moving a muscle. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I’ll tell them not to sscold you!” “You stay right there!” “I’m sorry! I will! Are you leaving? I’ll wait!” Braeburn facehoofed, but only for a moment, and without obscuring his sharp gaze. “Ah’m going to explain a few things. I reckon it’s time I asked a few things too, Miss Pony. Firstly, what are you doin’ sneaking around in the long grass?” She gulped. “I’m Subrii, I told you. I’m not just any pony, though thank you for ssaying that much, I’m a nice pony and I have a name…” Subrii let out a little squee. Braeburn’s eyes had narrowed. Somehow, he’d managed to send an erotic jolt through her from just that. She instantly ceased that line of argument, and meekly answered. “I like the long grass.” “Open your mouth,” said Braeburn. Subrii did, squeezing her eyes shut, wiping another tear. There was a pause of just a moment. “Thankee,” said Braeburn, his tone more gentle. He cleared his throat. “You weren’t foolin’, there ain’t no… f-thingys in there, jes’ ordinary pony teeth.” Subrii sniffled. “I’m a pony. I told you sso.” Braeburn’s gaze was wry, even amused. “Yeah you did. But between that speech impediment, and that tongue, you got some explainin’ to do, all the same.” Her eyes flew wide. “What’s the matter with my tongue?” “Stick it all th’ way out, missy.” Subrii shut her mouth tight, blushing, her delicate little scales ruffling up on her cheekbones. Her lower lip quivered. “That’s jes’ my guesswork, Subrii,” said Braeburn, “but anypony can see it’s pointy. I’ll give you one thing, though, I was expectin’ it was forked. You got that goin’ for you.” She pouted, not meeting his eyes. She glanced up, sulky. “Thank you for using my name,” she said, sticking out her lower lip in maximum adorableness. “I am sso a pony. So there.” “You’re a snake-pony,” said Braeburn. “Never saw anythin’ like you.” For a moment, Subrii’s eyes widened. Her lip quivered, but then outrage won out. Rather than cry and wail, she stuck her tongue out at him. It was Braeburn’s turn to eye-widen. She was more than a hoof’s length away from his muzzle, but all the same, she’d glared at him and tickled the tip of his muzzle with her tongue. He’d guessed right. Immediately, he moved another hoof-length away. “Do that again!” She made a face and glared more, clamping her mouth tight shut. “Mm-mm!” Braeburn took off his battered hat. “If you knew, if you had any idea how many mares would love your lil’ snakey butt forever the instant they saw that…” Subrii glowered. “Sso what? I already know that. I like males.” “Well then, how many times kin you wrap it around a…” “I wish they wouldn’t get that idea,” complained Subrii. “What fun is that?” “Depends,” teased Braeburn, “on who ya asssssk.” She stared at him. He smirked at her. A matching expression began to quirk the corner of her mouth. Braeburn tenderly booped her nose with his hoof. “Gotcha.” Subrii giggled. “So now that you know my ssecrets, what is your name? That’s only fair. Mean teasing sstallion.” Braeburn gave her a look. “We ain’t done, Subrii. You like the long grass, you said. Ah kin see that. But why? What are you doin’ in the long grass, slinkie-pie?” “I told you! I like it. I roam far and wide.” “Doin’ what?” “Watching…” Subrii cowered, a bit. She couldn’t get used to the mood-flips of this wild stallion. It wasn’t that he randomly had fits of rage… it was that she’d given the wrong answer. He’d flipped from seductive and flirty, to cold and grim, and she could hardly bear it. “Subrii, are you a spy for the Kirin?” Her lip quivered madly, and then she was clinging to him, sobbing, trying to explain. “I’m ssorry! Not really! I only wanted to be like the pegasssusses, you know? I just want to matter! There isn’t a place for me, not outsside my village! The Kirin do their besst, my village is kind, what is sso wrong with me wanting to help the Kirin, finding monsterss and invaderss and guiding them to help? I’m not a pegassuss, I can’t fight like them, I only wanted to matter and to help all the poniesss…” “Whoa there,” said Braeburn, and his voice was gentle again. He was cuddling her back. She blinked away tears, looked up, those spooky slitted eyes dilating until they looked almost like those of any distressed mare. “Yess?” “All that’s fine, honey,” said Braeburn. “You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzled her neck. “An’ the most unique cutie I ever did see, what’s more. Deep breath. It’s gonna be okay.” Dutifully, Subrii took a deep breath. She trembled, delicately. “Sso when I bring you to our nice Kirin…” “Nope,” said Braeburn gently. Her ears laid back. “But… you’re a strange foreign pony. And I found you ssneaking. And it will be fine, they will know what to do…” “Ah know what to do,” said Braeburn. Subrii blinked at him, so off balance she couldn’t even ask anything else. She gazed up, wide-eyed, and Braeburn’s eyes held her fast as he spoke. “Subrii, I’m here on a mission. I ain’t staying… least I don’t think I am. I may have to. I’ve lost love, Subrii, and I can’t stand it, and so long as I live I must cross the hills and valleys of this derned pretty country and seek my love. You won’t see me again… but one way or another, you’re gonna let me go, and I will continue my quest. It’s kind of a relief to tell somepony this. Never told nopony before, Ah jes’ went. Din’t let nopony stop me… an’ you won’t stop me either. So I’m afraid you won’t be bringin’ me to your nice Kirin. I got other plans.” She sank into his burning, glistening eyes, her dainty mouth hanging open in awe. She quivered. She gulped. “I love the Kirin. I’m sure they will understand…” “Can’t be riskin’ that,” said Braeburn, his eyes grim and sad. Subrii gulped, her heart giving a lurch. He was so romantic and dangerous and sexy, and dangerous, and oh yes–dangerous. “Are you going to hurt me?” she asked, in a fillyish little voice. Braeburn winced. Just for an instant, his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Then, that burning gaze was back, sadder than ever. “Ma’am, that ain’t my way. As Celestia is my witness, I should be able to put you out of commission for long enough, without doin’ you no harm. I realize this is a strong claim, but to me it’s worth the trouble.” Subrii gasped. “You are going to tie me up? Or imprisson me?” The eyes twinkled, in spite of their sadness. “Naw,” said Braeburn. “I reckon I kin jes’ fuck you real nice, like th’ sweetie-snakepony you are, and keep on a-fuckin’ until you can’t walk no more. Then, I get away, you ain’t hurt, an’ I’ve made it worth your while.” Subrii’s jaw dropped. “On second thought,” said Braeburn contemplatively, “that won’t be enough, will it?” “It won’t?” squeaked Subrii, her heart pounding. The twinkle became a leer, a randy cowpony leer that left nothing to the imagination. “Nope,” said Braeburn. “Obv’sly I cain’t leave off there. Ah will just have to keep makin’ more sweet love on and on and ON, until you can’t even slither. Stands to reason, don’t it?” She stared, dumbfounded. Braeburn tipped his hat, and winked from under his scraggly russet outlaw mane. “Will that do?” he said. Subrii’s eyes dilated wildly, and she felt herself grinning a manic, giddy, crazy grin… “Are you joking?” said Vinyl Scratch. Big Macintosh immediately turned away, wouldn’t speak to her. “No, seriously,” said Scratch, “am I reading too much into that? Maybe I missed something, you met somepony along the way after one of our gigs and…” “Eenope,” grumbled Big Macintosh. His lip quivered at the unfairness of it all… but then he felt something. A gentle hoof, across his shoulder, trying to coax him into turning back. “Please, talk to me,” said Scratch. “We’re on the same team here.” He hesitated. “Also I’m your boss,” added Scratch, “and I thought I was your friend. Please?” He relented. Big Macintosh turned, looking suspiciously at her, waiting. Vinyl Scratch gulped. “Okay,” she said. “I’m gonna restate things, tell me if I’m getting it wrong. You’re in love with somepony, who’s in love with you, and that’s why you’re here. Is that going too far?” Big Macintosh thought. “Ah do also want to help you. Wouldn’t want you an’ Octavia pullin’ the cart, it might make you too tired for playin’ the music.” “That’s a relief,” said Scratch. “You know I have to think of that when things get weird… oh come on!” Big Macintosh had turned away again, but he relented and looked apologetic. Scratch rallied, gathering her wits. “Okay, okay, nothing weird here. Giant foreign horses in love with Neighponnese are… well, actually, that’s far from unusual. So you fell in love, and we’re gonna see you reunited with your long-lost beloved.” Big Macintosh nodded, his eyes guarded. “And the one you fell in love with… and believe me, I can understand this part, you know I can… is… it’s Hina-rin. I know you were with her when she visited Ponyville. I heard about it. You fell in love with her.” Big Macintosh’s lip quivered. “I get that,” urged Vinyl Scratch. “Think about it. I told you my story, remember? I think I understand how you feel. Please believe me, I get it. Who else around here is gonna understand, better’n me?” Big Macintosh heaved a deep sigh, and hung his head. “Eyup.” “It’s just that… look, she belongs to Neighpon—eep!” Vinyl jumped back, for Big Macintosh had suddenly glared at her. “Nope.” “Oh fuck,” said Scratch. “Um… I didn’t mean to offend you. Uh… maybe I better stick to my side of the street, huh? I told you about that guy, that I wasn’t able to feed. I fell really hard for him. But they, I mean he, I mean… kinda not fixating on any one pony…” “She does love me,” said Big Macintosh. “Got to. She don’t have to leave her home now. Ah will go to her.” “I’m not saying she doesn’t love you, I’m saying that you don’t understand the way Kirin think, it’s totally real love and probably better than anything we ponies can do but you know it’s just not the same kind of…” “Nope!” “Oh fuck!” squeaked Scratch, her glasses askew, her eyes frightened behind them. “Okay okay okay, we’ll drop that! Um. I really do know how you feel. Umm… kind of getting flashbacks to all that, this is going to be lots of fun getting to sleep tonight now that you’ve made it all fresh and alive for me again…” Big Macintosh drooped. “Did Ah do that?” “I told you, I know exactly how you feel,” said Scratch. “I’ve been there. I’m trying to tell you… you know what, never mind what I’m trying to tell you. Let’s talk about something else. Maybe you can tell Octavia. She’ll think it’s the most romantic thing ever.” “Ain’t it?” “I never said it wasn’t,” sighed Vinyl Scratch sadly. “Hey, listen: as long as you’re not trying to get me to hook up with MY big Kirin crush…” “Ain’t no CRUSH!” “Take it easy!” snapped Scratch, looking flustered. “I’m still your boss, you know! I am seriously not gonna walk on eggshells and watch every little word around you. Do I have to be your cheering section? Knowing what you know about me, knowing about what happened between me and a Kirin? Damn it, Big Macintosh! You can think what you want, but there’s a limit to how much I’m gonna let you fuck with MY head this way…” “Ah’m sorry!” blurted Big Macintosh. “Ah’m sorry. Seriously. Don’t mean to cause you distress, Miss Scratch.” Vinyl glared at him. “I ought to say, it’s Miss Pon-3 to you. Dick!” “Ah’m sorry,” repeated Big Macintosh. “You’re right, Ah see it now. I’ll be good. Won’t bother you with it no more.” Vinyl sighed. She sat for a moment, then she scooted over and hugged him. “Still Scratch. To you. Thanks for making an effort, big guy.” “Or maybe Scratchie, like with Miss Octavia?” “Don’t fuckin’ push it,” warned Vinyl, and Big Macintosh desisted. They sat in peace, listening to Octavia’s practicing. “Do you think she heard us?” asked Big Macintosh, his ears quirking towards the continuing music. Scratch snorted. “Not likely. She’s in the zone. On another day I might go over and break the trance, so she doesn’t tire herself out and be over-rehearsed for the next performance.” “Ain’t gonna do that, though?” “If it’s okay with you I’d rather not have her get off and running with this. Not right now. Maybe after the next gig?” said Scratch. “That’s the last thing I need right now.” Big Macintosh’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm.” He brightened. “Miss Scratch, are you scared you’re gonna see this Kirin at the next gig?” The response he got was a dark little chuckle. “It might be easier,” she said. “I promised I’d fess up. You know I’m a pretty good lay, right? I mean, not among us, but at after-parties and stuff?” Big Macintosh nodded. “Eyup. So am I. Er-hem! So they say, anyhoof.” Scratch turned an intelligent eye on him. “Yeah, I daresay, especially if you’ve learned some technique. It would explain a lot of things, actually, like how you think you can… It would explain a lot.” “Ah got trained by Br… I got trained by th’ best,” said Big Macintosh, a fretful look crossing his face. “Well, usually I use my powers for good, but sometimes I… let’s call it, I use my powers for probably-good,” said Scratch uncomfortably. “How ya figure?” blinked Big Macintosh. “You know,” said Scratch. “Good for something? Like… good for making connections? Using them on somepony who’s not what you call close to me?” Big Macintosh blinked again. “Ma’am, I’ve served at stud for a buncha different mares. You mean different than that? Ah can’t claim to be the special cuddle-bug of Princess Luna, but Ah helped her foal all th’ same.” Vinyl winced. “Yeah, probably hard to make you understand this part. It’s not the same for stallions. I’ll just say it. There’s this very powerful agent. He’s probably going to be at the next concert. I’m going to be playing for him. And then, later…” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “You reckon he’s gonna take advantage of you? Miss Scratch, Ah know I weren’t hired for nothin’ like that, but if you need a bodyguard…” “No!” protested Scratch. “You don’t get it. I’m going to be playing at him. And I’m gonna do my best to seduce him. And I’m gonna fuck the daylights out of him, give him the works.” “So?” “Two things, okay?” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, and waited for them. “One,” said Scratch, “I don’t like him. Not that much, anyway. I’m faking. I can do all the physical stuff, but I’m going to be pretending I like it. It’s not dangerous, but it’s yucky.” “Dangerous?” “Kirin don’t like it,” explained Scratch. “It’s not honest. In this case it’s not going to do any harm, except to me, because if I do that I feel dirty. He’s not going to be harmed.” “How can you be so sure?” asked Big Macintosh. “Sounds like you know this feller.” “That’s thing two,” said Scratch. “That’s why I’m really scared. This dude is jaded. He’s a powerful promoter, and he’s damn good at it. The Kirin respect him and his skills. He’s not running around demanding sex or pressuring mares, either, get that straight. I’ll be playing at him because it’s hard to get his attention, and he doesn’t give a shit about me.” Big Macintosh studied Vinyl. Her lower lip was pouting, her expression was grumpy and unhappy, and she did look scared and sad. “Beggin’ your pardon,” he said, “but if he don’t give a fuck about us, and you don’t like him, why are ya even worried? Why don’t ya just leave him alone?” Scratch sulked. “Tens of thousands of bits worth of bookings. If he’s more fond of me and likes what I do. I think he’ll like the show.” “That ain’t enough?” “I want to be sure,” said Scratch. Big Macintosh leaned over, and hugged her. “Miss Scratch?” “Yeah?” “Ah don’t rightly see how you’re doin’ this fella any harm. Do you think it is trickin’ him or foolin’ him? To try and fuck him, jes’ to be remembered?” Scratch let out a raucous laugh. “Hah! Not likely. This guy, he’s seen it all. That’s one of the things I don’t like, he’s going to be sure I’m just trying to bed him in order to get bookings.” “But… you are.” Vinyl paused, looking off toward where Octavia was practicing. “Yeah. I am,” she said. Big Macintosh followed her gaze. “Wait, Ah get it! It ain’t jes’ you that you’re doin’ this for. You’re lookin’ to get Octavia some attention?” Scratch nodded. “Bigtime. How can I fail her when this is her big break?” “Why don’t you ask Octavia to go romp with him?” suggested Big Macintosh. “Maybe he’d like it.” “No way,” said Scratch. “He’d go to a fancy dress party with Octavia. I told you, he doesn’t prey on artists. He won’t be going after me, either, unless I make it really obvious I want that. If I’m just a total slutty-corn, he might lower himself enough to fuck me, and not be ashamed of it. It would be my doing, that way.” She pouted. Big Macintosh thought about that. “Huh. It’s kind of like…” “Like what?” “Ah been trying to practice on unicorns,” admitted Big Macintosh. “So’s I get good at it, that is.” “Well, not on me,” began Scratch, but then her eyes widened. “Wait a minute! I remember at that one town, what I saw of the Kirin. They were real plump. And later, out by the lake, there were these fireworks… Big Macintosh, are you trying to learn how to get unicorns off extra hard? Specifically so you can go find Hina-rin and, uh, sit around feeding her?” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, blushing. Scratch’s face was a study in conflicting emotions. “Okay, that’s a new one. I mean, it would sort of work. I don’t know how relevant that even is…” “No, listen,” said Big Macintosh. “Is that so different?” Scratch gawked. “I’m not following you, big guy.” “Ah mean,” said Big Macintosh, “it’s all the same, ain’t it? All you’re lookin’ to do is another performance. First you’re performin’ on them decks, and then you’re findin’ this guy, this powerful important guy, and you’re fixin’ to perform on him too. Ah know from you an’ Octavia talkin’, you practice this kinda performance. You’re proud of bein’ good at it. Well, Miss Scratch, so am I. Ah’m good at that kinda performin’. What is so wrong with that? Ain’t it just generous?” Scratch stared at him. “You’re worried you ain’t measurin’ up to this fella,” continued Big Macintosh. “Ah’m worried that since I ain’t no unicorn, it’ll be hard between me an’ Hina, and I want to measure up by bringin’ her unicorns to, uh, to milk? Somethin’ like that. I din’t realize you had similar worries, Miss Scratch. But I don’t see no harm in you performin’ all sorts of ways, and why is it any different? You don’t go out and kiss everypony in your audience.” Scratch’s ears were back, but not distressed so much as disconcerted. “Actually, there were a few times in Fillydelphia…” “Ah know Fillydelphia!” replied Big Macintosh. “Ah have put on some mighty pow’ful penis performances in Fillydelphia! This ain’t Fillydelphia, Miss Scratch. You gonna let that stop you?” Vinyl Scratch began to grin. “Heh. Fuck no, it won’t. I think you’re right. One thing I know is, I’m not harming this dude. He might like me, he might not. Hard to impress, this guy. But there’s no reason to think he’ll be offended at me trying.” “Dang right!” “Okay,” grinned Scratch. “You’ve convinced me. Let’s both go out there and fuck like champions. Not each other!” she added, hastily. “Our adoring public. I’ll do my best with this guy, might even be kind of fun. And you, you can go find a unicorn. There’s got to be plenty of nice Neighponnese unicorns you can get sexy with.” “Will do,” said Big Macintosh. “And not before my reg’lar work is done!” “Right,” said Scratch. “Practice milking unicorns.” She made a face. “But not me, for several reasons! As you know.” “It’s all right, Miss Scratch,” said Big Macintosh. She hugged him, glanced around to see nopony was there to overhear, and whispered, “You’ve earned ‘Scratchie’. For this pep-talk.” “Gosh,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah did?” “Unless you piss me off!” Big Macintosh gulped. Scratch snickered. “Don’t look so tragic. Octavia gets the same deal. Tell you what… tonight, pick out a nice unicorn mare at the concert. Then go back to her place and screw her senseless. We’ll see how our luck is going. Tell me if it goes awesome, maybe it will be a sign.” “All right… Scratchie,” said Big Macintosh. Braeburn ran his hungry hooves over his eagerly willing conquest. Subrii had surrendered immediately to his plan, and he was still not sure if it meant certain success, or if it meant she planned some kind of surprise. Was there a snake behavior she’d unexpectedly throw at him? There were no fangs. He proposed to leave her a quivering puddle of mare. Would she, perhaps, shed her skin and chase him as a newly refreshed snake-pony? Surely that was madness, impossible? There was no time like the present to find out. Subrii quivered at his touch. Her neck was bare of any trace of mane. The short little mane-cut was tough-looking, but it wasn’t backed up by aggressiveness in her personality. Perhaps she just found it embarrassing to have a long mane when it didn’t grow on her neck like a normal pony? Normal ponies didn’t wriggle like that. Subrii showed startling talent at stallion-touching. Braeburn gasped as the little snake-pony sensuously writhed against his body. She had a more or less normal quadrupedal frame, slim but normal legs, but all the same when she got aroused she moved as lithe and boneless as a horny cat. Or, of course, a snake. Braeburn fondled her pert butt, to croons of delight from his would-be lover. Fascinated, he studied the dock of her tail. Just as he’d suspected, it continued hairless for more than a few inches before blossoming outwards into a blonde pony tail. The lithe green dock of her tail wriggled. Braeburn nuzzled it, then nuzzled the firm round muscle of her ponylike rump, greeted by a squee and a wink. He sighed with relief. Certain changes might be… inconvenient. Braeburn rubbed his cheek against her rump-cheek, savoring the feeling. The lesbian ponies were being cruelly shortchanged, he thought to himself. Hell, an excitable filly could probably get off simply riding this cutie around, riding her back to be specific. Her coat tingled his muzzle like rubbing against silk. He suddenly took a hoof to Subrii’s precious pony-pussy, parting her folds to inspect the texture of her flesh, wary of more scales. But there was nothing to fear, nothing but distinctly pony glisten and ooze, and another cry of desire from that soprano voice. No, it was different, somehow. Braeburn extended a tongue, privately admitting it was a very inadequate tongue compared to hers, and he tasted Subrii’s vagina, and she shuddered and cried out again, a sweet yearning call like a bird taking flight. Her nectars were lighter, more tingly, and there was another difference he couldn’t quite work out. He froze. Was that the trick? Poison-pussy? But no, she just stood trembling and waited, and he suffered no sort of ill effect. Indeed, he was suffering very good effects. He’d dropped a potent erection, and it was starting to throb with unforgiving rigidity, and possibly he needed to get started before his girth got too enthusiastic. He didn’t even nip her ass. No point, really. And what with one thing and another, Braeburn felt out of touch with the more aggressive aspects of mare-dominating. Given the chance to not be so nippy, he found himself gladly taking it… and he mounted upon her, shuffling his hind legs to and fro, clasping her to his chest with honest affection. She’d been a real sweetie, and nice, and he proposed to give her a wonderful ride. Braeburn prodded Subrii’s pussy, and his ears laid back. “Tight as a snake’s ass…” he breathed. Subrii squirmed, and twisted her head around with disconcerting agility. It almost made him leap clear in alarm, but it was Subrii being adorable and tearful again, even though her neck was bent disturbingly. “Please not!” she begged. “I don’t care if it’s true, it’s not as fun for me! Please?” “Th’ boys try and get up your ass?” blinked Braeburn. “It chafes,” sniffled Subrii. “And I’m so excited… my body aches for you!” “Ma’am,” said Braeburn, “jes’ turn your head round and brace yourself. Ah kin do ya right. I’m honored, in fact.” “Eee!” squeed Subrii, and she faced front, and as Braeburn lovingly nuzzled that delicately scaled, maneless neck, he allowed his hips to press forward. Immediately, she shuddered, and Braeburn hesitated, his eyes wide. “Dang,” he breathed. Subrii’s pussy was about the tightest thing he’d ever felt, but the mystery of her juices became clear: there was no friction, none that he could feel. Subrii lubricated like no mare he’d known: thin nectar but impossibly slippery. Braeburn pressed a bit deeper, and the tension around him was astonishing, but he could barely even feel a sliding. He glided into her like his cock was on wheels, rolling her snakey aperture wider as he pushed. Subrii shuddered harder, letting out a little wavery squeal. Braeburn hesitated. “Are you all right, honey?” he asked. “You’re so dad-blamed tight.” Her ear twisted to hear him, and she moaned, then said, “Give it to me!” “It ain’t too much?” “You are in the right hole,” said Subrii dreamily. “I can stand almost anything if it’ss the right hole…” Braeburn’s ears were quirked to the side in disbelief. “You say that now, missy… but all right, whenever you’re ready…” Subrii was ready. Braeburn had to resist an instinctive urge to shove, because she expressed her readiness by wriggling that taut little rump, twisting his cock-head inside her with wet slippery noises. There was nothing like a wriggling pony rump to say ‘push it deeper’, and there was no pony rump quite as wriggly as that of a snake-pony. Braeburn complied, but slowly, cautiously. His eyes just kept getting wider, and he craned his neck over to the side, trying to see what in Equestria it even looked like. Surely her pony posterior hadn’t been THAT small? And yet, he seemed to be trying to pry his cock through some tiny hole that barely loosened for him. Subrii’s rump clenched on him, and he whinnied in alarm at a tightening sensation… surely it would snip his stallionhood right off! But then she’d relaxed again, and it made surprisingly little difference. He hit the central part of his swollen erection, his ears laid back hard in astonishment. Subrii was crooning in obvious ecstacy, her whole body shuddering like tiny earthquakes coursed through it, and yet the pinch of her was pretty much unbearable. “Does that hurt?” Braeburn asked. “Keep going!” moaned the slinky snakepony, her body trembling all over. What the fuck, thought Braeburn, and his hips swung forward, and his swollen horsecock slid fully into Subrii, thumping her cervix. That also was reassuringly normal. The element that remained strange was, again, her slipperiness: so slippery were her juices, and so intense her pressure, that Braeburn’s cock seemed to get sucked into her depths, the squeezing forcing it to slide rapidly forward as it sought a narrower clench. Braeburn gasped, and Subrii let out a little shriek and began to reel, her hooves juddering against the soft grass as she came. Braeburn spared a hoof to wipe his brow. “Dang,” he said reverently. “Snake’s ass ain’t nothin’ to a snakepony’s pussy. Who knew?” “Ahh! More!” begged Subrii, staring wildly into the sky. “Shh!” cautioned Braeburn, himself glancing warily at the sky. There was nothing up there to worry about, for now. “I’ll give ya more if you try to be quiet. Relax.” Panting, Subrii nodded frantically, and then devoted her full attention to the amazing things happening in her vagina. Braeburn was as good as his word. He could go no deeper: the little snakepony was bottomed out, his crotch nestled against her quivering, silky-scaled buttocks. Her bare dock wriggled excitedly against his belly, causing Braeburn to note in astonishment that it was one hell of a sexy sensation. But it was nothing compared to the sensations around his throbbing cock… even when he let it sit still for a moment, nothing could diminish the uncanny slipperiness of Subrii’s vagina. Any motion he tried to make was effortless, frictionless. He barely felt it, but he felt the pressure, and that was intense. Tugging produced spectacular results. Subrii shuddered, shook, wailed softly, but Braeburn stayed alert for other signs that more clearly spelled distress. He tried to sense whether there was a cramped, pinching sensation, a strain in her vocalizing. A sudden edge in any sense could suggest trouble… but there was none. His instincts were telling him one simple story: this was the most aroused mare he’d ever, ever fucked. Her vagina was like unto balling a chipmunk, but the stretch in it was unbelievable. He wasn’t hurting her, not even when he paused half-withdrawn, the full brunt of his titanic girth prying her vagina wide. Did she not even feel pain? Was it a snake thing? He sensed only that constant shuddering, and palpable waves of obscene pleasure that flooded her relentlessly. Duty called. Braeburn, increasingly filled with quiet awe, began thrusting. Subrii squeaked, quivered, shook like an earthquake, and her amazing vagina never weakened. What weakened was the snakepony herself. She began to sway, staggering, and Braeburn danced a lewd dance for a moment as he lowered her to the soft tall grass without for one moment ceasing to fuck her. And, nestled in the grass that matched her silky scales, Braeburn extended his stroke until he was slowly, insistently plunging his huge throbbing horsecock from her glistening entrance to her deepest depths, over and over. He swelled harder. It didn’t seem to matter. Subrii’s tongue lolled, her eyes stared at unseen wonders or the fireworks of her own orgasms, and her body shook uncontrolledly, writhing in the grass on the end of Braeburn’s slowly plunging erection. He took it farther than he’d ever imagined he could. He slowed down, toward the end, watching her elegant limbs twitch weakly, remembering his vow: she hadn’t passed out, might never pass out from orgasm alone, but he had to leave her so drained she couldn’t even slither. By his reckoning, he was almost there. Subrii shook even more fervently, as Braeburn went rock-hard inside her, still moving, inches from climax. “Ee…e…ee! eee! hh!” “GNHH!” Braeburn hugged the limp little snakepony close, and blasted, and horsecome surged fiercely into Subrii as her lover throbbed his release and ultimate peak. Subrii’s eyes, staring into glorious nowhere, dilated so hard they looked exactly like a natural pony’s eyes, when obliterated by pleasure and love. Braeburn collapsed on top of her, squishing her into the grass, her tongue still lolling. One snakepony eye twitched. Subrii couldn’t even move a muscle. Braeburn panted. “Dang. Amazin’. Amazin’…” Subrii saw him, out of the edge of her vision, which was blurred out with clouds of rosy glory. He tugged his subsiding erection out of her tight pussy… which felt amazing, more intensely sated than she could have even imagined possible. He stayed visible. She was glad her eyes hadn’t closed, though that little membrane she had was partly showing. Subrii couldn’t even be embarrassed by that. She watched Braeburn quietly slink away into the distance. Then, he was back, somehow. He was snuggling her, though she was so limp she couldn’t even wriggle. He was arranging her body, still so warm from her endless orgasming and glowing in the afternoon sun, and he settled her comfortably and nuzzled her pretty face and gently, carefully, coaxed her eyes to close, though she wanted them to stay open and looking at him. But she couldn’t resist anything he wanted, and she willingly allowed him to cuddle her to what he thought was sleep. In a sense, it was. As she cooled off, deliciously exhausted by all the incredible sex, an irresistible torpor came over her… and she knew then that his plan had worked. He’d be long gone by the time she could move again. She did manage to slither half an inch in the direction she thought he’d gone, before succumbing to an enthralled, slowly rotating mental meditation on her own utter pleasure and satisfaction. Half an inch wasn’t much… but it was a start. Big Macintosh sweated, humping a squealing unicorn mare. There was no other word for it. She was very aggressive, and demanding, and she’d brought him back to her bedroom which was unaccountably filled with floating green balloons, and exhorted him to his humping in the most uncompromising terms. This surely counted as practice, but it only made him long for the tenderness and intelligence of Hina even more. He grunted, and ducked. She was swinging her head around, whinnying in ecstacy as his massive red cock thrust again and again into her electric blue pussy. All of her was an alarming blue, except for her mane and tail which were red and yellow. Fucking her in her room of green balloons hurt the eyes, but he didn’t dare close them for long. Her long blue horn was sharpened to a point. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. It suited her. And when she swung her head around, he had to stay clear of that point at all costs. She bucked under him, hooves slipping on the floor, barely keeping her footing. He grunted again, and decided he’d had about enough. Twisting his head, he bit firmly onto her neck and began ramming his cock all the way in, with a succession of brain-rattling thuds. The squealing blue unicorn thrashed, and then seemed to explode in light. Her body convulsed on him even as he thrust and spasmed and spurted horsecome into her, and she gushed horngasm at the ceiling, popping an assortment of the balloons. “AAAAH! YES! NOW! GET! STAB!” shrieked the wildly orgasming mare. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened, and then she’d yanked herself out from under him. She was leaping about off her rear hooves, drooling Big Macintosh come all over the floor from her gaping pussy, and springing up like a mountain goat to stab the balloons with her horn, even as bolts of magic gushed from it. “GET THEM! STAB! WITH YOUR DICK!” squealed the demented unicorn. “Buh?” managed Big Macintosh, wobbling on his hooves, wide-eyed. He kept watching his crazed lover leap about, and soon she tired, panting, her legs shaking. All at once, she collapsed in the middle of the floor, a massive grin on her face. “I keep hoping one will,” she crooned, nuzzling fragments of green rubber scattered across the floor. “One will what?” “With his dick,” she said. “I’d come so hard. Oooooh.” Big Macintosh wobbled, and then sat down heavily on his butt, shaking the house. “Mmmm,” said the unicorn mare. “Thank you. I’ll be good for weeks, after this.” “Beggin’ your pardon,” said Big Macintosh, “but what the hay are you doin’ with them balloons?” She nuzzled the floor, and the scraps of rubber, dreamily. “I’m very aggressive. Did you notice?” “Jes’ a bit!” She smiled, still nuzzling green fragments of ex-balloon. “The Kirin taught me this. It helps with my urges. I still want a stallion to do it with his dick, though. Then I would know he was the one.” “But what the heck are ya doin’ to the balloons?” said Big Macintosh, plainitively. “I’m killing them,” said the dreamily nuzzling unicorn. Big Macintosh stared. She looked back at him, in deep satisfaction, cheek lovingly nestled against shattered green rubber. “So I don’t kill ponies,” she explained. “So, Big Macintosh… did you find a nice unicorn to practice on?” “Nope.” Mare's Gotta Do*blinkblink* *awake* …before dawn. Vinyl Scratch wriggled, restless. She glared into the dark. You never knew when it would sneak up on you: after all those gigs, she’d have thought herself immune to pre-show jitters, but there she was: wakeful before dawn, and having to make that awful decision: get up far too early, or try and force a little more sleep? Of course, it wasn’t just the gig. It was still performance in a sense, but it wasn’t only DJing on the agenda. Scratch had a feeling of trepidation that beatmongering alone couldn’t produce, and a kind of excitement that used to belong to the gigs themselves. It was a funny thing. As you got good, really good, in some ways your art got less scary. You could try and bring back the danger and novelty of your first gigs through various means, allowing for dodgy equipment or trying bold transitions and audience-challenging stunts… but the audience learned too. It learned with you, and it learned about you, and even though she hadn’t played Neighpon for ages, word spread fast. She wasn’t going to need to explain much. The beats of Fillydelpia’s wildest clubs spoke loudly to Neighpon villages and required little translation. It was what Vinyl planned for after the gig that had her excited and nervous. The odd thing was, she didn’t feel any less competent at balling a fan into the ground. In normal circumstances, Scratch could pounce a pony with huge confidence from not only her celebrity status, but also the years of strenuous exercise she undertook with a curious dumbbell-shaped device. She could work a stallionhood like few ponies alive… But it wasn’t going to be a fan, was it? This guy wasn’t merely a key promoter, not simply an important contact. The whole reason seducing him had occurred to Scratch was that he had just the same seductive reputation as she had. And that meant he might not be impressed… and he had to be, he just had to be. There would be no use screwing him if she was just another eager conquest. She had to impress. Vinyl ran over possible angles in her head. Was he going to want her to be brassy and bold and wanton? That was easy for a mare who made her bones in Fillydelphia. On the other hand, his reputation suggested a very different attitude from the notorious Fillydelphia private clubs. And the Kirin wouldn’t like him nearly as much if he was that kind of hardcore. Would she need to play it all fillyish and vulnerable? How the pony hell would she pull that one off while still exploiting her spectacular muscle control? Chalk it up to enthusiasm? …munching on breakfast. The grasses of Neighpon were delicious, and Vinyl found herself snacking on some while still pondering her dilemma. She tossed her mane and ordered herself to settle down, for all the world as if she were Octavia giving Scratchie a well-deserved scolding. Since when was the prospect of she, DJ Pon-3, screwing some lucky pony, a dilemma? She was getting far too worried. Just because he was a powerful and well-connected booking agent and patron of the arts, and by all accounts also a patron of the artists, at least those artists that were hot mares, and if ‘patron’ meant balling artists’ brains out until they were drooling cretins who would do anything he asked… No, that wasn’t fair. That was certainly the impression she got, but Vinyl knew the Kirin wouldn’t ever tolerate him using his gifts for evil. Also, she thought, she’d better stop thinking of him as some lurking challenge, and start thinking of him as a pony: Michian would presumably want it that way. Even that name told a story: Michian’nai-sha was his full, honorable name, but he was Michian to all who crossed his path. Perhaps that was also a sort of adaptation. All knew that Michian’nai-sha was a very powerful unicorn, and the Kirin were strict with very powerful unicorns, and so Michian famously devoted himself to the most extreme humility. It was a sort of humility, thought Scratch sourly, that only the exceptional could afford: Michian wandered the land, finding gifted artists and promoting them, staying in any old hovel or barn without thought to his own welfare. Or at least, he would do so if he wasn’t continually dragged off to very comfortable bedrooms, there to make love with a series of thrilled and worshipful mares. It was said that he liked unicorn mares, and Scratch hoped it was true, for her sake. You couldn’t prove it by his actions, for he didn’t favor any sort of pony species above any other, least of all in his promotion. The rumor was that he had a special weakness for unicorn mares. The rumor also said that he took pains to not give them extra help, knowing his own weaknesses, and Scratch hoped like pony hell that part was false. The last thing she needed was an uphill battle. She would have to deliver a blinding, epic gig on top of a spectacular roll in the hay, to overcome his resistance. Damn it, couldn’t he just trade business favors for sexual favors like any normal pony, or at least any pony in Manehattan? Ponyville was a little more innocent. Fillydelphia was more perverse, and you had to be sure the pony wasn’t getting an extra kick out of betraying you, or playing some sort of mind game. Canterlot was supposed to be even more perverse, but you had to keep it tightly under wraps or the Princesses would scold you and stop inviting you to events. Stop it, stop it, thought Vinyl Scratch. It’ll be wonderful. You’ll go flirt with Michian, it’ll be fun. He was said to have an extraordinary presence, almost like a Kirin himself. No wonder he tried to sleep in barns, then. Kirin didn’t enjoy powerful unicorns gathering followers, even if those followers were a sort of panting obsessed harem with no political ambitions beyond getting another taste of Michian’s famous cock. Vinyl suspected she had an advantage there: nothing a Neighponnese unicorn stallion could produce, was likely to be that amazing compared to some of the wilder parts of Fillydelphia. Neighponnese weren’t typically big ponies. Fillydelphia was a melting pot with horses from all over the place. …finishing breakfast, Vinyl looked around for Octavia, then closed her eyes and swiveled her ears. Sure enough, the faint strains of cello wafted across the morning grass, and Scratch followed her ears. She found Octavia in a field, and she frowned as she drew closer. Tavi was running over the same few bars of music, again and again. ‘Running over’ proved to be very appropriate words: Tavi was running over the music as if in a runaway pony-cart. The notes were blocky, overly tense, and she kept stopping and starting, and locks of her mane stuck out unkempt and unnoticed. “Didja have breakfast?” asked Vinyl. Octavia frowned. “In a minute. Shh.” “No, seriously, you know it’s only going to make it worse if you don’t…” “Vinyl! Please. I will in a minute.” “And I respect that,” said Vinyl, “it’s just that I know you and I’ve seen these moods before and…” “Vinyl!” snapped Octavia, and directed a formidable glare and pout at her dearest friend. Scratch hesitated, and then quietly backed away. She did indeed know Octavia, and she’d been dreading one of these artistic fits, and didn’t it just have to turn up just when the gig was really important? Carefully, she controlled her features, avoided any look of anger or disapproval. It wouldn’t help. Tavi would just have to play it out, and Scratch hoped she didn’t over-practice until she was past it when gig time came around. These lapses were all part of life for the hoity-toity classical soloist, or indeed the composer and performer. Vinyl didn’t envy her that part. Her own fate was more easily borne. It wasn’t that DJing was all that much easier, but it was a lot more social, and less precarious. Not for DJ Pon-3, the tension of creating an exquisite melody and performing it flawlessly. Instead, she made her living through reading the crowd, remembering a massive repertoire of variously pounding records and textures and tempos and keys and drum patterns, and her own performances lived in the transitions from one dance-floor stomper to the next: to surprise and delight a fickle crowd without ever letting their pulse waver unless SHE wanted them to amp up or cool down. In a very real sense, they were her instrument as much as the decks were. …sidling up to Big Macintosh as he peaceably cropped grass for his breakfast, and thinking to herself how pleased she was that their roadie also had good sense and stuck with grass on the day of an important gig. Ponies ate all sorts of fancy things, but grass was the stable diet. “Hm?” said Big Macintosh, raising his head. “What’s so funny, Miss Vinyl Scratch?” “Nothing,” said Vinyl. “Hey, I just wanted to say, can you make sure that Tavi eats something for breakfast? Don’t interrupt her right now, but when she gives up?” “She’s gone give up?” blinked Big Macintosh in perplexity. “In the middle of a tour an’ all?” “No, not like that,” said Scratch. She sighed. “She’s practicing, and she’s kinda stuck. I think she’ll see reason and do as I asked, which is try and have some breakfast. You know that’s part of her problem: she got caught up in her performance and can’t let go of it, and I know she didn’t eat anything since she got up. It’s fine when things go well, but when it goes wrong she gets upset.” “Awww…” rumbled Big Macintosh, looking dismayed. “Just find her something nice, okay?” said Vinyl, and trotted off to check out the venue site. It was supposed to be a pretty decent spot for a gig. Vinyl nodded in satisfaction at what she found. The place was massive! There was a sort of bandstand that would shelter her and part of the crowd from rain, if there was any rain. That was unusual for Neighpon, but this was Chou-sho province, and apparently they wanted to persuade everypony that they really were very close to the capital city, very important in their own right. It was sort of cute because it was far from the truth, but hoofmarks in the dirt showed that ponies already danced there. So many ponies that the hoofmarks stretched way out past the bandstand. …seeing Octavia in the distance, returning to their cart in a huff. Good, thought Vinyl, that’s on the right track. She returned to studying the venue. What if Michian took a fancy to some other pony in the audience, before she could get to him? Vinyl frowned, worried. No, you couldn’t worry about things like that, she thought as she watched Big Macintosh trotting along holding a tray in his teeth. She would just have to do her best. Anyway, Michian liked artists, so in theory he’d have his eye on her. And doubly so, Michian was said to like unicorn mares, giving her twice of a chance. And where was he, anyway? Vinyl wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see him this far ahead of the gig. On the one hoof, that was time to get to know him, but on the other hoof she’d not taken a dip in the pond, and she had a thing she did with her mane and tail that made them a little more shaggy and scruffy, and she liked to polish her rose-colored trademark shades and she could tell they weren’t polished, they still had dust from the road on them that she was going to have to …screaming in the distance. Octavia screaming. Over by the cart! …suddenly there as if no time had elapsed, panting with exertion, only to see Tavi flipping out in hysterics and Big Macintosh looking like he was about to cry and—her decks. He’d brought Octavia breakfast, and juice to drink, and he’d tripped or stumbled or something and had spilled the tray on top of her decks where they were packed. “OMIGAWWD no wait Tavi stop Tavi don’t jump around like that! Don’t kick, that’s right, big hugs, deep breaths…” “Ah’m sorry! Ah’m sorry!” Vinyl turned, in haste, to speak to the culprit. “You settle down too! Stay! I’ll get to you, just sit quietly!” “Yes’m!” squeaked Big Macintosh, blushing even more brightly red, and he sat and waited. “Octavia, listen to me!” demanded Vinyl, her ears back. “I want you to notice something… yes, no jumping, that’s right, take a deep breath not all that panting, good girl, good Tavi… back with me?” Octavia stared, stricken, distraught… but increasingly, capable of reason and common sense. “Oh, Scratchie!” “Yes! This is Scratchie right here, I want you to do something, can you do something for me?” “Oh, but I couldn’t do anything! It was awful, the juice was like ‘sploosh’ and everything was ruined forever…” wailed Octavia, beginning to trot in place again. “No! Focus! Octavia, look again, do you see? Do you see what’s there?” insisted Vinyl. “Look, look, silly pony!” Octavia’s lip quivered. “It’s your decks. And juice spilled all over them and I couldn’t stop it.” “No no,” said Vinyl, “look. CLOTHS.” She stared manically into Octavia’s eyes from over her unpolished dusty trademark shades, willing the flighty artist to understand, twitching her head toward the decks and the luxurious cloths she always draped them in. Octavia gasped. “You mean…” Vinyl Scratch nodded. “I do! Look, see, it’s okay, it’s what the cloths are for!” She lit her horn, grabbed the cloths without grimacing or wincing, perkily mopped up stray orange juice while casually flinging the tray and breakfast over the side of the cart. Big Macintosh wouldn’t mind, and she had to get ‘em out of the sight of Octavia. “See, see? All better!” chirped Scratch. Octavia’s lip was still quivery. Indeed, all of Octavia was quivery, because she was trembling all over and the spectacle would have dropped Stout Heart at twenty paces… well, dropped part of him, anyhow. Vinyl hung onto her smile for all she was worth, and continued. “Now, Tavi, darling, sweetie, I’m going to need you to apologize…” “I’m ever so sorry I wasn’t able to stop it!” sobbed Octavia. “And it doesn’t make any sense, I know those are like little quilts to keep the decks cozy, they can’t be just rags for spills…” “…to Big Macintosh!” concluded Vinyl fiercely, and Octavia’s jaw dropped. So did Big Macintosh’s. “What?” said both in chorus, mercifully forgetting Octavia’s last point. Vinyl fixed them with a stern glare. “That’s right! Say you’re sorry for freaking out so much. He was only doing what I asked him to do… that’s right! …because I saw you weren’t having breakfast.” She hugged the stunned Big Macintosh, and continued. “And you still haven’t! So here’s your punishment that isn’t really a punishment, okay? BOTH of you, go off to the field I was hanging out in, you saw where I was, and you both have to have grass for breakfast! It’s really nice over there, might still be some dew on it. I sympathise with you wanting to treat Octavia with something nice, Big Macintosh, but on the morning of a big gig we’re better off having nice ordinary grass instead of rich and fancy stuff, and it’s really good in that field, trust me.” “Um,” said Big Macintosh, as Octavia’s gaze pleaded for forgiveness. Vinyl Scratch stamped a hoof on the bottom of the cart, making both jump. “Now!” she ordered, and then there was nothing but clambering and the tail ends of galloping ponies, as Big Macintosh and Octavia did as she asked. Vinyl gave them three seconds to be sure they wouldn’t turn back, and then she turned instantly to the decks, her own lip quivering dreadfully in woe. …frantically galloping around town searching for replacement cloths, her heart leaping up into her throat with its panicked pounding. Oh, there had to, there just HAD to be somepony who could set her up! It wasn’t that her decks would betray her, and certainly they were not broken, but after that line of bullshit she fed Mac and Tavi, she so totally had to make it up to them. Tavi was right, in no sense did she cover her decks with wash-cloths or tarpaulins. Their covers were luxurious little coverlets, and well deserved, and if she couldn’t find somepony who made cloth that would do her faithful decks justice… Vinyl whinnied, rearing. Him! Michian. He hadn’t seen her, was down the street, but this was the worst time to run into the guy. She’d have to seem confident, and her shades still weren’t polished, and she sweated, and before another moment had passed Vinyl had ducked down a side street to avoid encountering the notorious promoter early, and she trotted, looking from side to side… There! A window revealed bolts of cloth that took her breath away, fine brocaded silks to make Rarity weep with envy. Well, thought Vinyl, more like ‘make Rarity disappear into her Boutique and not come out until she’d woven something even better’, but the point stood: she’d found what she needed. “Hello!” she called, trotting into the little hole-in-the-wall store. The proprietor, a rumpled old unicorn mare in granny glasses, dropped a sequin in startlement. “Hello, miss! Can I help you?” “Oh,” said Vinyl, “I hope so. I don’t mean to be any trouble, but do you make the fabric shown in the window?” Behind the granny glasses, eyes widened. She gasped. “Your accent is so strange—and you’re upset! How can I help you?” Vinyl grinned uncertainly from behind her dusty, unpolished DJ Pon-3 shades. “I’m hoping you can sell me just a couple squares of that fabr… oh, horseapples, I left my money in the cart, can you wait here? I’ll only be a moment, make that a couple minutes but if I run really fast…” “Stop!” squeaked the proprietor. Vinyl blinked. “Stop?” The old mare smiled at her. “Look at you. So strange, and you’ve been running like a madmare, and you seek only a little sample of my fabrics…” “If it’s the same width as the other bolts of cloth in the window,” said Vinyl, “I’ll want to trim it slightly, and of course it’s not really squares exactly. They like the edges to hang down neatly and tuck under just a tiny bit. Um. I just mean, I know the exact dimensions!” “You’re one of the musicians,” said the proprietor. “And it’s some sort of an emergency. Never fear. I will get you your almost-squares, right away. In fact, I’ll hem them for you. Are you the one with the huge fiddle?” “No,” said Scratch, blushing. “They’re for my decks.” “Ah,” said the proprietor, her eyes crinkling up as she smiled. “I see. This town should like you, then. Now which would it have been… I’d say… that one!” Scratch’s eyes widened. “Yes! How did you know? I never told you which fabric it was!” The old eyes crinkled still more warmly. “Oh, you thumping-beat ponies think you’re the only ones who can read how ponies are affected by your art?” Vinyl gawked for a moment, then vowed, “I’ll be back in just a few minutes with the money for you!” “Hold your tongue,” snapped the old mare, “and your horses. Sit down. First of all, you need to show me the dimensions for your almost-squares, and sit tight while I hem them. Secondly, you’re not paying so much as a cherry blossom petal. Michi-poo would be terribly disappointed in me if I failed you. He’ll be deeply moved and happy that I was there when you needed me. It’s just the sort of thing he likes.” She winked. “If it helps, I can probably get a lovely evening out of him once he finds out what I have done. Never you fear, I’ll be compensated. Handsomely, you might say.” “Mi…” began Vinyl, astonished. “Michian? Is that what you mean? You think Michian is going to reward you with, with sex?” The old unicorn mare winked again at her, the crinkled old eyes twinkling merrily. “I am a star too, darling,” she said, smugly. …running back to the cart, for the hemming had taken a terribly long time. Vinyl welcomed it, for she knew she’d be honoring her decks with a special gift, but on the other hoof she’d left them cooling their platters for hours and couldn’t remember whether she’d explained herself before she left. They had presumably seen her distress, and they would always understand, but she’d been terribly anxious as the old mare patiently made two pieces of cloth into works of art, expressed in fabric and finish. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the quiet, motionless, serene decks. “I have something for ya.” Her horn lit, and her gifts were displayed. It seemed like they smiled, somehow, with the same easy gratitude she’d seen in the old unicorn mare. She could hear Octavia directing Big Macintosh, off in the distance: Mac was setting up the stage, and Octavia was helping. Vinyl could hear in the tones of their voices that they were taking pains to make it extra nice, trying hard to please her. A few bars of cello music wafted across the hillside. It sounded amazing. Octavia’s sense of acoustics was on full display, a real education in refinement of sound. Vinyl heard her, still dissatisfied, directing Big Macintosh to move the speakers again. His ‘eyup!’ came across quite clearly, and he sounded eager to move heavy speakers all day long if that’s what it took to give Octavia and Vinyl sonic perfection. Scratch curled up around her decks, trembling slightly, telling herself that everything was going to go fine from now on. “Excuse me?” “Eeee!” squeaked Vinyl, popping up. It was HIM! Michian’nai-sha stood outside the cart, hooves on the wheel, peering in at her with his ears back in alarm. He blushed. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I only saw you running across town, and it seemed you were worried…” “All better now!” squeaked Vinyl, unable to look away from his handsome lilac eyes. Michian’nai-sha was a pale blue pony, with a deep purple mane that was unkempt in that very specific way you got when you paid hairdressers massive sums to get unkempt in style, and those eyes, so pale but so deep at the same time… “Oh, good!” said Michian. “Is there anything further I can help with?” Scratch blushed, and then she hopped out of the cart. “Nope! But there’s a nice lady in town you might want to check in on!” He blinked. “There is?” “She set me up with this!” chirped Vinyl, and her horn lit and she saw his eyes flash to it. But all she was doing was lifting one of the cloths she’d got. “Nice, huh? I can show you where it was.” “Of course I know,” said Michian, bowing his head solemnly. “Such a gift. Exquisite.” “Maybe you can thank her later!” quipped Vinyl. “But maybe not tonight, know what I mean?” She flirted with her tail. Michian’s eyes were wide. “I wonder if I do…” Vinyl suddenly realized that she had no real proof that Michian meant to screw the old lady mare, and she’d first assumed she could tell him to do it, and then turned around and told him to delay it. “I um, I, I…” He bowed his head. “Never mind. Just know, my dear DJ Pon-3, I stand ready to assist. I look forward to enjoying your performance, and I can’t wait to see what you can do!” Vinyl stared, while dozens of extremely raunchy DJ Pon-3 remarks tried to come to her lips. Not one of them seemed to fit this strange, gentle stallion, whose eyes held the peace of a Kirin, whose confidence was unrippled by any sort of rude flirtation. She was speechless for seconds, drowning in his eyes. “Gotta go set up!” she squeaked, and began to gallop off. Then, she screeched to a halt, turned, trotted back, lifted both decks with her horn, put them down again, neatly removed and folded the new deck-drapes for she didn’t trust herself to do that while holding the decks up, lifted the decks again, and trotted away quickly. Michian’nai-sha, bemused, watched her go. His tail flicked, then flicked again. Then an ear. Then, he too wandered off. …around town, mingling with new fans and soon-to-be fans, her decks set up and ready, Octavia’s set approaching. Vinyl felt distracted and unsettled, and as another two ponies approached her, she realized again that she hadn’t polished her shades. She hit the ponies with a bright and glittering grin, anyway. She mingled, talking foolish bravado and complimenting the ponies she met, drawing them into the DJ Pon-3 Coolness Aura. It was an attitude she’d picked up in Fillydelphia: she had a knack of making ponies think they were privileged just to be hanging out with her. It was a radiance of stardom based on confidence and tailored by playfulness and flirtatiousness, colored by her brazen sexuality and thundercunt athleticism: hanging out with DJ Pon-3, you felt like anything could happen to anypony, and whatever it was, it was gonna be the sexiest, least inhibited thing ever. Michian’nai-sha didn’t count. She furtively avoided him, for she’d not worked out the right approach, still. Or polished her shades. She kept meeting other ponies, hearing conversations, barging into them and being thrilled and amazed by the crazy news. Earth ponies chattered about sightings of a Weird Monster. It was apparently the most terrifying Monster in years, and there was much speculation about which town’s pegasi would destroy it. Unicorns gossiped about activity among the Kirin: apparently something was happening, they were gathering to hunt for something. What the Kirin proposed to hunt remained locked in obscurity, but the consensus among the unicorns was that the Kirin, in turn, were more anxious than they’d been for ages. Some argued that Kirin would never be anxious. Older unicorns were polite about this, but Vinyl could tell they didn’t buy it. What was going on, that would worry the Kirin? Vinyl hoped it had nothing to do with her. …heading to dinner, before she even knew it. Michian wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Had he gone off with that cloth-maker mare? Vinyl picked at her daikons and squash, distracted. Big Macintosh approached. In his mouth was a bouquet of flowers. His eyes a wordless plea asking forgiveness, he presented Vinyl with the flowers. Vinyl teared up, hugged him, accepted the flowers. They were delicious. Wiping her eye, she noticed she still hadn’t cleaned her damn shades, but there was no time… Octavia was beginning to play, the rich plummy tones of her cello resonating outward from the bandstand as ponies began to gather, entranced. Vinyl trotted out to join them, putting on the armor of DJ Pon-3: that brassy self-confidence and inner focus. It made it easier, that she was transitioning into performance mode. Experiencing other ponies not as threats or challenges, but as vibrations: energy centers that she could read, a massed equine throb that produced a wave she could ride. If she was good enough… She’d be good enough, Vinyl Scratch told herself. Then, afterwards… she would see. Octavia wowed ‘em. There was no fumbling. That mare could be counted on to deliver on the real gigs, thought Vinyl… or, rather, DJ Pon-3. A certain detachment stayed with her when she got into DJ-mind, and she tended to see her best friend’s artistic exploits mostly in terms of how they hit the audience. Octavia did as well, in her way, but Octavia didn’t count the house, and DJ Pon-3 knew exactly how many ponies were in the audience and had a pretty good sense of ticket prices. Of course, that was more a Fillydelphia and Canterlot thing. Ponyville was more innocent and she’d often performed for nothing in Ponyville, because it was just about community, and that made her feel at home. Probably because here, there was also that sense of community and you impressed not so much with a huge sack of bits, and more with your generosity and ability to share your gifts… …which was going to happen in less than a minute, Octavia was very near the final bars of her last piece! Vinyl Scratch frantically trotted through the crowd, unable to gallop because there were too many ponies in the way, and reached the edge of the stage, at the back. She gazed up at her decks. She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, emptied her mind… and DJ Pon-3 stepped up onto the stage, just as Octavia finished with a triumphant final chord. …walking up to her faithfully awaiting decks, DJ Pon-3 realized she still hadn’t polished her trademark shades. Behind them, for just an instant, a frightened look flashed across her eyes. It wasn’t a long instant. She grinned cockily at the crowd. It was her crowd. All crowds were really her crowd. They just took different amounts of time to learn it. Head lowered, platter pre-selected, Pon-3 went for an obscure but trustworthy throb to get things moving. Track came out of Mareheim. It was a weird track, and the pegasus who made it wasn’t entirely happy with how she used it: it was a 45 and she started it at lower than 33 RPM and never played the whole thing. It was the intro that she wanted, and a certain transition. She watched the crowd as they began to move to the submarine throb. DJ Pon-3 was ready when the brassy musical stabs began to come in, and she began ramping up the speed, faster and faster, at just the time that the original musician had inexplicably chosen to wind DOWN the tempo. He’d explained it to her once, pouting: some theory about making the beat heavier and heavier. Really, what he was doing was bringing it closer to what a dance floor could handle—Mareheim had some really insane clubs, not representative of typical pony dance floors at all. Even then, he kept it Mareheim and in the original recording he’d dropped it down to a tempo that would still burn out a less pegasi-oriented dance floor in minutes. She watched closely, as the crowd was galvanized by the sounds swooping upward in pitch, while the tempo mostly stayed the same… except that it, too, was ramping up as she pushed the beat, and… there! She transitioned to one of her signature tracks, out of Zebrica, a zebra mare who lived near the border and dared travel via unicorn-powered magic portals. She had brought in sonic elements from Canterlot and Mareheim and incorporated that into her sound, producing a sexy grinding throb that was still very stark and forbidding, lacking warmth and prettiness. DJ Pon-3 promptly threw another record on to replace the intro Mareheim track, cued it and got it synced just right, and a Canterlot musician entirely unrelated to dance music provided the warmth and prettiness, plus an expected strange fascinating twist once the largely acoustic track modulated to a key that would enter roughly where the Zebrican track would hit a rhythmic break. There were some lingering melodic elements in the rhythm track, but they’d seem alien and weird against a foreign key. And then, yank the acoustic overlay out when the Zebrican track dropped its bass—done—and switch to… She blinked, behind the shades. These ponies weren’t going according to plan. She had some of them, but a few in the rear were backing off, looking distressed. Worse, a few ponies in the front were just watching, not dancing. They looked impressed, but DJ Pon-3 was not a spectator sport as far as she was concerned. Nobody saw the worry in her eyes, and her grin and waving hoof didn’t flag for a moment, but her horn lit extra bright as she rifled through carefully organized stacks of records, and hastily grabbed one… Hints of a madly whirling musical motif entered, as she brought in the new platter spinning extra fast, then deftly slowed it and dragged the signature track just a bit as it hit a big orchestral stab, causing a lurch. That was bad mojo, and the Zebrican producer would’ve been furious and Fillydelphia would have laughed at her, but it was also distraction to cover an important adjustment. She watched from behind the shades, her jaw tight, seeing if it had worked—and it had. The overtired ponies at the back sensed the cooling off of the beat, and they came back, bouncing on their hooves in relief, while half the gawkers lining the stage squealed at her stunt and began bouncing in glee. The adjustment had changed the tempo one beat per minute. Nothing more… but she had ‘em. …waving her hoof in the air, DJ Pon-3 ran through an audacious tracklist, being careful not to demand too much of the innocent Neighponnese audience. They knew about dancing, but they couldn’t handle a full-on Fillydelphia nightclub, and only pegasi could handle a pure Mareheim dancefloor. The curious thing was, if you cranked up the Mareheim beat until the pegasi were succumbing to attrition, feathers flying everywhere and dancers being dragged comatose off the floor, you started to get into a zone where the unicorns with their graceful flowing liquid moves began to get involved. That was what you might call an advanced move, knowing that zone was there. The Neighponnese crowd was mostly earth ponies. They bounced, flicking their tails, rubbing up against each other lewdly. DJ Pon-3 looked for Michian’nai-sha, but couldn’t find him, and put it out of her mind. Couldn’t do two things at once. Well, she thought, remembering certain very wild gigs: could do two things at once, had done, definitely shouldn’t. Especially not at a gig where she hoped to impress an important promoter. Her sexual favors didn’t mean shit unless she could also light up the dance floor. There were key changes, texture changes, she knew she could throw in. She did all of ‘em, flawlessly. Her mixer had a magic-controlled gizmo called an isolator: using it, she smoothed the beat out to nothing but a thumping, and threw in a series of pulsing moves that transformed the whole texture of the music into a building wave of increasing brightness, bursting out and then subsiding and bursting again, a little more sparkly each time as the audience cheered and shook their tails. Some of the unicorns began shooting sparks, interpreting what she was doing. She hastily completed that stunt and got ‘em dancing again, for she had other plans… …working her set up to a climax, DJ Pon-3 dove into her crates for the hybrid Zebrican/Mareheim stuff again, along with a special track out of Saddle Arabia she reserved for special moments. She watched the audience like a hawk, and finally spotted Michian and made mental note of where he was at. He was dancing. Nothing equine could resist her beat at the height of her powers, and of course he was dancing, though he looked like he was trying to stay reserved. DJ Pon-3’s grin quirked at the corner. Reserve THIS. As she allowed the final build to surge up, using the isolator and building it in waves, she prepared the secret record, and got it spinning terribly fast. If anypony had listened to that part normally, they’d have been horrified at how the treble had been all worn off by such treatment, but Pon-3 had just one way she used this track and she began sneaking in its sound as a bright, near-supersonic twittering against the throbbing bass of yet another signature track. And she drove and drove and DROVE the dancefloor, knowing the way this track built and even ramped its tempo, and she launched the whole thing into a riot of surging and still expanding beats as the twittering contrast got louder and louder, fighting and merging with the beat, and as everything exploded in chaos she got the turntable platter spinning steady and kept the record slipping and whirling on the turning mat and readied the isolator and… SCHWOOOM! …hit the breakdown of the Zebrican track perfectly, in spite of the faint ramping of tempo it had, while whirling the second track down into its bloom of atmospheric loveliness. She had never failed to sync that transition, and the bloom section had never been subjected to insane high speeds, and its grooves were mostly unharmed: the only damage they suffered was suffered once more, stoically, as the diamond in the turntable needle glowed red-hot for a moment while it recovered. All the unicorns in the audience climaxed, gouts of lovely horngasm spurting up into the air, while among them, the earth ponies and pegasi came just as enthusiastically. DJ Pon-3 sternly repressed the naughty urge to quip, in Ponyville fashion, “Now that’s how we do it down on the farm!” Her grin showed her amusement, however. Her grin flagged for a moment. No, not all the unicorns. Michian’nai-sha was visible. He was grimacing. The hell? He was gritting his teeth. Vinyl Scratch’s heart jumped in her chest. DJ Pon-3’s smile promptly returned to ‘maximum cocky little grin’, and she bowed playfully for her people as they screamed their approval. …and then somehow she was already backstage, having taken her bows and applause, and was pushing out into the milling crowd of ponies, her heart pounding. They thronged her, and she scanned the fringes of the crowd, and praise Celestia! There he was, quite a ways back but not trying to leave. It seemed he entertained some ideas of greeting her anyway, whatever that grimace had meant. DJ Pon-3 proceeded to get herself over to him, in purely DJ Pon-3 fashion. “Hey, beautiful!” she cried, embracing and kissing entirely another pony who happened to be in between herself and Michian. “Wow, look at you!” she squealed delightedly at a pegasus who was rearing, showing off his pony hard-on. With a wicked grin, she slipped under him and squeezed out from between his hind legs, still on a path for her quarry. Feeling her petite celebrity body rubbing against his cock and her tail playfully tickling his balls, the pegasus whinnied and came all over a neighboring unicorn, who squealed in dismay and was then appeased as four mares pounced him and proceeded to lick him off… in every sense. Just another DJ Pon-3 gig, among the excitable ponies. Bass really did something to the pony libido when you dropped it just right. Probably had to do with keeping pony heart rates at a state of high excitement for so long. And there he was, his eyes wide, checking her out as she trotted saucily right up to him. “Hiiii!” said DJ Pon-3, tilting her head playfully, ears perked up in full attention that was directed fully and entirely upon him. “Hello,” he said, weakly. “Forgive me. I’m a little… overwhelmed!” DJ Pon-3 cackled. “Yeah! I have that effect sometimes.” “That effect?” “Lots of effects,” said DJ Pon-3. “There’s one effect I sometimes get myself. Well, okay, always. Know what I mean?” Michian took a deep breath. “From the looks of it, you’re eager to tell me.” She stepped closer. “Yeah, I’m mega horny. Whatcha doin’?” Michian’s eyes widened. “Oh my. Am I reading too much into that? Mistress of music, thumper of thumps?” DJ Pon-3 cackled again, her trademark raunchy raucous laugh. “Whoa there! That’s YOUR department, cutie!” she said, and nuzzled his neck, and was reminded again that she still hadn’t polished her damn shades. He gulped. “That’s very sweet of you…” FUCK. “I… I mean,” stammered DJ Pon-3, clinging to her persona, “thumper of RUMPS am I right? I talked to a… no, what I mean is, I like the look of you cutie, and I volunteer to be the thumped-upon rump, here or wherever ya like ‘cos a really hot gig always works me up…” “Yay!” squeed a nearby earth pony mare. “Michian’s gonna fuck the DJ! Let’s watch!” He shot a hurt look at her, and turned back to Pon-3. “Firstly, I accept. It is my honor, in fact, you are a true artist. But I had something a little different in mind.” DJ Pon-3’s eyes were almost wider than her shades. “What’s that?” “Come with me.” She hadn’t even had time for a quip. The crowd erupted in a single cheer, and suddenly she and Michian’nai-sha were being carried by the crowd to the edge of the field and into the town. “That’s enough!” called Michian. “Back to your fun, good ponies!” Giggling, they plunked him and DJ Pon-3 down with a thud on the grass, and stampeded merrily back to the bandstand, where a pony orgy already awaited them. DJ Pon-3 and Michian’nai-sha stared at each other… Her shades had come off. They’d landed in a mud puddle. There was no hope of cleaning or polishing them in order to deliver a proper DJ Pon-3 look, and their absence was the last straw for DJ Pon-3’s precarious nerves, rattled by all the drama and close calls and unexpected events. And so, Vinyl Scratch and Michian’nai-sha stared at each other, and Vinyl’s lip quivered. Her eyes were huge. “Here?” she squeaked, without any of the bravado she’d been cultivating. Michian smiled, and he leaned forward and kissed her nose. “I can do better.” “Can ya?” she said, and tried to pull herself together. “Great! I can do better too, in fact I can do ya so amazingly you won’t even believe it, just let me…” Her eyes crossed. He was booping her nose. “Sh. Do you know what I saw today?” “Don’t you mean tonight?” said Vinyl. “No, I mean today,” said Michian. “Tonight I saw a great artist. Also,” he winked, “a very desirable mare, let’s get that straight. You seem very eager to bed me, and I’m delighted. But, my dear DJ Pon-3, today I saw a little unicorn have a very busy day. Isn’t that so?” “Oh…” “I saw her help her cellist friend, who has some things to learn about living the artist’s life and managing her creative impulses…” “She was great!” squeaked Vinyl, wide-eyed and alarmed. “Wasn’t she great? You have to admit when it came to the actual concert…” “Shh,” soothed Michian. “You’re not wrong. And it’s okay for great talents to need a little personal management… though usually this is done by a road manager or road crew, and not by the headlining act! But I digress. I saw this little unicorn organize support for her friend, and I heard what happened…” Vinyl’s lip quivered again. “And I saw her running through town on some errand, presumably to replace things that were damaged in the accident with what apparently was breakfast?” Vinyl nodded. “Yeah. Don’t hold it against Big Macintosh! He was doing his best.” “Of course not.” Vinyl gulped, and then gave the elegant Neighponnese unicorn a hard look. “And this has to do with me fuckin’ you until you’re even more delighted… how?” He dropped his gaze humbly, and then peered up and there was a DJ Pon-3 like fire in his eyes. “Oh no no, Miss Pon-3. You’ve had a hard day. It’s getting late. Please allow me the privilege of making love to you until YOU are delighted.” A smile crept across Vinyl’s face. “Aww!” “I mean it,” warned Michian. “Don’t worry about me. My delight is your delight. I’ll be fine. You’re worked up? Let me show YOU a good time.” “Yay!” squeaked Vinyl, bouncing up to her hooves, reassured that her plans were going well at last. “Uht!” said Michian, and his horn lit. “Not so fast! I think this is yours?” He lifted her muddied, but intact, shades. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Those belong to DJ Pon-3,” she said. “That’s me as well, like a public me, for gigs. But you? Hey… call me Vinyl. And sure… yeah, that sounds really nice.” “I intend it to be,” said Michian, gravely. “Come this way.” She nuzzled against him as they walked, feeling extremely lucky. “Y’know, I am kinda good at that stuff. Do I get to put on my own show? You know, do ya right? You’re a sweetie, Michian’nai-sha, I’d like to do that.” “If the spirit so moves you,” he said, “I shan’t complain. I’m trying to tell you that you don’t have to perform. Let me do my thing, if I may. I… it would be very special, for me. And, you know, I am no slouch myself.” “Giant horsecock?” wondered Vinyl. “Hips of steel, mare-pounding power?” Michian snorted. “Pah. Sort of. I will ask you not to demand calisthenics and rodeos.” “You know about rodeos! We have those back where I live!” cried Scratch. “I know many things. Come with me.” “Ya don’t have to ask twice,” purred Vinyl, nuzzling him again. “Thrice.” …trotting, eager, flirting on the way until she was winking and he had a impressive erection bouncing around under him, they approached a well-kept house. “Your house? Lover?” teased Vinyl. “Do I have to wait until we get in? For you to get in?” “My third house,” said Michian, his head proud and high. “Which is in this town, and I’m glad of that right now. One’s in the capital city, and one got infested with pink demons… it was on a mountain pass, quite isolated.” “Oh no! What happened?” “All the carpets got ruined with pudding. Don’t ask,” said Michian. “Anyhow, please wait! I’d prefer to be inside. We’ll draw the curtains.” “Ya like privacy?” asked Vinyl. “For some very intimate moments, yes I do,” said Michian. She broke into a cute little gallop and ran right into the house, laughing to feel him close behind, his breath on her tail. His horn lit, and curtains all around slid on curtain-rods, and the door shut firmly. She glanced, and the curtains seemed heavy… and she realized they were chain-mail. “Protection?” “In a sense.” Then, Vinyl Scratch gasped. Michian’nai-sha had seized her pert little buttock in his teeth, but it wasn’t exactly a bite. He flared his lip back in a snarl, savoring her scents, but rather than painfully nip her, the unicorn stallion had taken a big mouthful of Pon-3 rump and just sensuously wiggled it with his teeth. She glanced back in startlement, and saw only the huge smile on his face, and the confident, naughty look in his eyes. “OH yeah,” panted Vinyl, and braced herself, shivering with desire. “Allow me to melt your cares away,” he said decorously, releasing her quivery rump. This got him a squeal of lustiness, and his ears perked forward, his eyes glittering. With a well-coordinated heave, he mounted. Before she could wink three times, he’d entered: a bold shove, and his flare had squeezed juicily into her pussy. He was big for Neighpon! Not so thick, but a lovely flare, bulky and expanding smoothly to its widest point. She felt the bulk of him begin to move, and it was excellent and measured and calm, not jabbing her but exploring comfortably as his forelegs tenderly gripped her body, his cheek nuzzling her neck. Without looking, she knew he’d closed his eyes: there was something in the posture when a stallion closed his eyes and just got snuggly that way… Her eyes widened, and she let out a squeak. He’d resettled his hooves, shifted his grip, and pulled out. Before she could draw a breath, she felt that nice solid flare pressing firmly into her again, quick enough that she’d not cramp on it, giving her another taste of that moment but better, since she’d warmed up and got used to his size. It wasn’t a huge size, but she felt all of it as he worked his magic. Vinyl’s mouth fell open in a goofy smile of delight. So nice! She decided to give him a treat as well, and the next time he pulled out, she tensed and tightened herself, giving him a spectacularly taut vagina to press into… “No,” he whispered into her ear, sympathetically. “I’m sure you can do that. Let me please you. Relax.” Ears quirked, Vinyl relented, and felt the stiff horsecock press lovingly into her again. Seriously, she thought? But he did have a point. She’d automatically gone for stallion-pleaser mode. This one wanted to be in control. That could be awful sexy, too. Vinyl nuzzled back against Michian’s affectionate, warm neck, kissed the side of his face. His eyes were closed again. Dear Celestia, this guy felt good to have on you. Vinyl panted. He loved that trick of pulling out and then firmly entering you again, but that wasn’t all he had, not by a long shot. Michian could set up a fantastic surging, a sort of thrust that powerfully took her and plunged into her, but he seemed to have an amazing sense for what would feel comfortable and good. She squealed, and recalibrated that in a hurry: the guy, the fucking amazing guy had a sense for UNcomfortable and good, and he just loved to flirt with that line. Her heart was in her throat, but in the nicest way, because it was never quite alarming. It didn’t hurt, but he seemed to be able to read her body with unbelievable skill. And he was tireless, smooth as silk, and just when her eyes began to roll back in her head, he’d… sweetCELESTIA! playfully deal her another jolt, just to wake her up. He was just big enough to do it, or else he had a very good sense of how deep to plunge in her. Vinyl began to hyperventilate and wriggle in his forelegs, winking like a maniac around his lovingly plunging horsecock. She squealed again. It was just too good! Her body shuddered, and then in spite of her willing efforts to relax for him… something she was ecstatic to do, rewarded by his deft horsecockmanship… she began to clench, and heard him grunt in surprise. She was a very special little pony in certain ways. She did exercises. Her pussy began to wail on his shaft in earnest, spasming as if he’d stuck his dick into some kind of industrial milking machine. It didn’t faze him… but she could feel him get more determined. He tensed over her, and he just kept up his motions. He didn’t try to pull out, and didn’t jolt her again, but he kept moving, even as obscene juicy sounds filled the air and her pussy gushed lube as she came. She squealed again, and couldn’t stop coming. She was so slick around him that he could have taken to pounding her ruthlessly, her psyche begged for it and yet he stuck to his course. Vinyl was nuzzling his neck and howling her pleasures to the ceiling, her body shaking as orgasms rocked her, when she felt him tense up. His teeth gritted, just like they had at the gig. She didn’t know how she knew, but she felt it, and then… “Gnnnh!” Horsecome gushed into her, even as Michian’s raging hard-on continued to eagerly plumb her cozy depths. She felt it, viscous spurts, and she screamed in pleasure and pressed her neck fervently against his, and she savored his loving grip around her body, and her pussy clung and clenched to him and it went on and on and on, herself able to keep it going, himself milking it for all he was worth and she felt the longing in him as he clung shivering to her and pumped gout after gout of semen into her womb, shuddering with obvious adoration and nudging that throbbing hard-on as if in sheer reverence, wrapping himself around her like she was the only pony in the world… “gheeeh!” Vinyl Scratch, pleasured beyond endurance, squealed a cute little squeal and horngasmed, her horn spurting out a little sploosh of magic. “hRRRRHhhh!” Michian’nai-sha erupted in horngasm. All that he had held back at the climax of the gig, all that was in him, burst forth and earthed itself in Vinyl Scratch. She couldn’t even squeal: the pleasure, the lovedness and emotional connection he’d been coaxing along, was suddenly her whole world. Cyan-blue magic gushed into her even as a final spasm of horsecome spurted into her womb, and she stared at nothing, transfixed, blinded with orgasm, her soul drenched in an aura of pure love. The magic scintillated, brought with it a deep understanding of how Michian felt, and it was a breathtaking feeling. He’d needed this so badly. Vinyl, wrapped in his trembling embrace, vulnerable in her orgasmic state, couldn’t resist it in the least. Her heart went out to him in those moments, with his cock sunk so deeply and lovingly into her, his neck pressed against hers as if trying to twine around her, feeling his heart pounding against her back, and the magic still locked on to her horn and radiating through her whole body, bringing the aura of Michian’nai-sha tingling out to the tips of her hooves… He sagged, and couldn’t maintain it, and the horngasm cut out. Vinyl was no longer illuminated: she panted, flooded with pleasure, and she felt him soften, dismount, the horsecock tugging out of her. She staggered, and though he was unsteady himself he caught her, and she felt his heart pounding against her, and she looked up, her eyes full of wonder… He was weeping. He smiled. It was a quivery smile, but… sorry? Her eyes went very wide, trying to understand. “Thank you,” he said. “Oh, thank you…” That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right, she thought. Thank her? HER? He was a miracle, a deity, what could he have to thank HER about? She licked her lips, still wobbling, but before she could speak, he was talking again. “W—we can go and see the Kirin. If you need to. It would of course be the correct thing to do,” said Michian, as if by rote. “Perhaps not right this minute, but we are in Neighpon which is my home, and I would not be Michian were I not responsible for…” “Oh!” said Vinyl. There was a sadness coming from him, and she knew damn well why, and hastened to reassure him. “Oh, honey! Don’t worry. It’s okay, we’re not breaking any rules. I have it taken care of. I, I, there’s actually a Ponyville thing with a herb you take, earth pony’s friend…” He gave a little jolt, and the sadness worsened. “Yes, we must all be earth ponies’ friends…” “I just mean, it’s okay! Oh my GAWWWD that was so wonderful, I’m so touched I can’t even, and I promise I didn’t get pregnant off that. I come from here, okay? A long time ago. I’m no dumb pony, I know the rules…” He kept wincing. Vinyl died a thousand deaths to see that: every word seemed to make it worse. He had been in her, his horngasm had been in her, she understood him now… and what he wanted, most deep in his heart, wasn’t allowed. There would be no herd of unicorn foals for Michian’nai-sha. She looked around at his house… his third house. It was very beautiful for a cage. Or not quite a cage… she looked back at him, and his mouth had tightened. The sadness now had a touch of self-pity, even resentment, and Vinyl looked at him, at the beauty of him, and she saw that he would remain Michian’nai-sha… he’d accepted the bargain he’d made. He was no celebrity-pony in Fillydelphia, or in Mareheim, or in Ponyville. She was those things. He was in Neighpon… and she could see that he was going to remain in Neighpon, remain Michian’nai-sha, remain his own sad kind of beautiful. She looked back at him, beginning to cry, wondering if he was going to say ‘You should go’. She found herself strained in an impassioned, fervent hug, and they clung for a moment. “Thank you,” he said, instead. …walking unsteadily back to the cart, not sure quite how she’d got herself there. Eyes luminous with unspilled tears, body still floating on a haze of pleasure, his come tenderly coating her unwelcoming uterus. Everything had happened, nothing would happen. Vinyl heaved a trembly sigh. “It’s her!” squeaked Octavia, and she and Big Macintosh peeked out, to see Vinyl make her wobbly way up to them and rejoin them. Octavia and Vinyl gazed at each other. “But your sunglasses, Scratchie?” Vinyl gulped. Her horn lit. From a cozy place in her mane, the DJ Pon-3 shades lifted up, came into view. They were spotless. She didn’t remember that. Michian must have done it. Of course he had. “Did he like you?” said Octavia uncertainly. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Scratchie, your horn! Did he like you, was it good? Scratchie?” Vinyl’s lip quivered woefully, and her eyes glistened. “YES!” she wailed, and burst into tears, and was swept up in Octavia’s embrace… and Big Macintosh’s, and he helped them get into the cart where they could cuddle and later, sleep in comfort. And on into the night, Octavia’s soothing voice could be heard, as she tirelessly cuddled a sobbing unicorn, who had no more stardom left for the day. “…and listen, I think you made him as happy as he possibly could be. Do you understand, dear Scratchie? You both did the best that you could.” “…uh-huh.” “And I think it’s a shame he couldn’t follow through and go with you, if he’s so wonderful and nice…” “His home is here,” said Vinyl forlornly. “I understand that.” “Well then, it’s a shame and a disgrace they can’t let you accept his foal and carry it through the tour and back home to Ponyville, since it would mean so much to him apparently…” “No, Tavi,” pleaded Vinyl Scratch. “It’s not our way. Please don’t argue. Neighpon does things differently. We have Kirin.” “To meddle in your lives,” grumbled Octavia, her ears back. “In your most intimate lives.” Vinyl wiped a tear. “I…” “Yes, Scratchie, lovie?” “Now I know what the renegades felt like,” said Scratch miserably. “The ones that tried to take over.” Octavia regarded her, warily. “Is that good?” Scratch sat for a moment, cuddled in soft earth pony forelegs. “No,” she said. “No, it isn’t. I trust the Kirin. I’m not that good. He’s not that good. What we’re doing now is the best way we can be with our lives. Breeding a race of unicorns and ruling Neighpon isn’t even what I want.” “Why do you think that’s what he would want? This, um, Michian’nai-sha?” Vinyl snuggled gently against Octavia. When she spoke, it was soft and foalish. “You can’t understand. We’re just clever ponies with magic horns, but he felt like so much more… and I felt like so much more, to him. I understand what happened to the renegades. I understand why they felt they should rule… but, Tavi, I’m not like that. And this Michian, this amazing compassionate powerful smart pony… he’s not like that either. He has humility. He’s a booking agent. That’s all. Not a King, or an Emperor. He’s just a pony, with a magic horn.” Octavia, not inexperienced in being reduced to quivering adulation on the end of a stallion, quirked her ears. “Did he feel like a King?” “He felt like a God,” said Vinyl softly. “Hm. Well,” said Octavia, “did you please him? This Pony-God of total benevolence and wisdom?” Vinyl wriggled against Octavia, her body warm. “It was the same for him,” she said. “I could tell. I was his Goddess, just for a night. And then it was over. I won’t see him again.” “Vinyl?” said Octavia gently. “I know you’re hurting. I’ll stay with you as long as you need… and I even kind of understand what you mean, and you’re right: from what you tell me, you probably won’t see him again. And from what you tell me, I don’t think you could have expected more. Remember? You were mostly worried you wouldn’t be able to impress this guy enough. Foaling was NOT on the menu, and three hours ago you’d have laughed at me for suggesting it… all you wanted to do, all you even hoped to do, was get this guy in the sack and put on enough of a show that he’d be favorably disposed to you… to us.” Vinyl sniffled, and gave Octavia a cranky look. “Okay, go ahead. You know I deserve it, and you’re kind of right. Say it, I know you’re thinking it.” “Well,” said Octavia, “it seems like everything went according to plan.” She petted Vinyl’s mane, apologetically. Vinyl shut her eyes and snuggled against Octavia, her lower lip pouting. “Stupid plan,” she said. Octavia cuddled her closer, settling in for the night. Tomorrow was another gig. HardcoreFor all that he was a Kirin, Daitana skulked like he was a fugitive. “Oh, hello!” said the earth pony mare, stopping as she crossed the street, staring at Daitana with apparent delight. “Are you here to save us?” “Do you need saving?” asked Kichona. “We’re pleased to meet you. Have you seen a group of musicians traveling nearby? We’d like to hear them perform, and we keep missing them.” “They played in the town neighboring us, two days ago!” said the earth pony mare. “They’re heading north.” “So are we,” said Daitana. She glanced at him again. “Are you well, master? You seem thin. You are hungry! I will go fetch our best unicorn!” “That’s all right!” protested Daitana. “Never mind that, tell me why you need to be saved! Not that I’m promising anything…” The earth pony mare frowned, counting to herself. “You speak strangely. For a Kirin, I mean.” “He’s fine,” said Kichona, “it’s all fine. What’s this about being saved?” The mare blinked. “Oh! It’s the Monster. Are you here to save us from the weird monster?” Daitana boggled at her. “Really? But that is only… I mean, um…” He gathered his wits. “Trust my words this day. You are in no danger here. I’ll… uh… scare it away?” The mare bounced. “Yay! Everypony says there’s the worst monster ever, coming to our town. It came from the seaside and rampages across Neighpon, shrieking and attacking ponies!” Daitana’s jaw dropped. “But that’s impossible. Don’t you know? The Weird Monsters are only…” Beside him, Kichona frisked. “Yay! How exciting, I’ve always wanted to see one! Daitana will protect me and this whole town, but I’ll finally see a real Monster!” Daitana gawked at her, stunned, and hastily changed his statement. “…dangerous to wicked ponies. Um, that’s it. Very exciting, yes, but you’re in no danger from them, I promise that is the most true thing you’ll ever hear.” The mare blinked. “Are you a real Kirin?” “What else would I be?” “I don’t know,” said the mare, “something else dressed up as a Kirin? Sometimes you don’t talk right, and you’re not walking on mists or rainbows, and you seem so thin.” “We, um, we…” began Daitana, and then struggled to phrase things in courtly Kirin diction. “The cherry blossoms again—talk as well as me—which isn’t saying that much. Ahem… We don’t need to speak—of things dressed up as things, here—just trust me, you’re safe.” “Safe from what?” asked another earth pony mare, trotting by. “From the terrible Weird Monster that’s coming here!” replied the first earth pony mare. “Eee!” The second mare fell over in a faint. Kichona gasped, and rushed to her aid. “Poor thing! Don’t be afraid, my darling will protect you!” “What darling?” blinked the first earth pony mare. “Daitana, here!” The first earth pony mare blinked again, and craned her neck, trying to look past the Kirin and find whoever Kichona was talking about. “Just trust us,” said Daitana urgently. “You are safe. Kichona, please come with me!” He trotted off to the north, and Kichona followed after petting the fallen mare’s mane and giving her a little kiss. “Kichona, don’t you know about Weird Monsters?” asked Daitana. “I guess I assumed, since you are my marefriend, that you knew.” “I would love to see one,” nickered Kichona, “since I know I would be safe with you. I think they’re beautiful. Nature is beautiful in many ways, isn’t it?” Daitana hesitated. “…yes,” he said, “yes it is.” “As long as it doesn’t hurt ponies,” said Kichona, “I hope it gets away. And it can be weird and fierce and beautiful somewhere in peace!” Daitana gulped. “I promise, it will not hurt ponies,” he said. Privately, he thought: pegasus ponies, either outside or inside the Monster, don’t entirely count. He drew a little nearer to Kichona, his mare, cheered by her fearlessness and kindness. Of course she believed the Monsters were real, yet wished them well. If she was a pegasus mare, decked out in pointy costume, or a unicorn that withheld her energy blasts for the sake of ponykind, then she’d know it was all part of the sometimes horrifying way that Neighpon worked through its impulses. If she was other than an earth pony mare, she would be privy to these secrets. As an earth pony mare, she was allowed to be silly and fooled by the costumed Monsters… but instead of being scared of them like a normal earth pony, she seemed to like them. “Kichona?” asked Daitana, as they cantered north. “Why do you hope it gets away? The Monster, I mean.” She nuzzled him happily. “They’re pretty! And… and they’re free. Until the pegasi get them, anyway.” She pouted. “It’s not really fair. Our pegasi are so fierce and savage, that nature’s monsters don’t stand up to them. There ought to be some sort of wildlife preserve for them, so they can be protected from ponies.” “And so you can see one?” “Uh-huh,” said Kichona, and nuzzled him again. “Someday. One day I will see a Monster. I’d like to paint a picture of it. We left my paints and brushes behind when we went to find the musicians. Oh, don’t pout, it’ll be all right! I don’t need to take my art everywhere I go. But I’m gonna paint one of the Monsters someday.” Daitana teared up. You’re centuries too late, he thought, and far too trusting. The real monsters would have eaten you up. But perhaps we can arrange to have you paint the costumed pegasi. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” said Daitana. “I’ll find you one, to paint.” As evening fell, pegasi whirled across the sky, hunting. “Where’d it go? Where’d it GO?” “This has to be the Monster that knocked Orokamono out of the sky with shrieks! The rogue one! It has to be this one!” “How is it so fast? Who is even running it? Look, we’re all here!” “Moeru isn’t, and he usually flies far north after good Monsters! Is it Moeru? He’ll be in such trouble!” “Moeru got attacked! Kantokusha said so! His head nearly got kicked in!” “No way! A full-on Monster? How long has it been since we had a Monster that bad?” “The Kirin don’t like it when the Monster is as bad as that!” “Who IS it? Where did you see it last?” “It’s… there! THERE IT IS!” With a war-cry, five pegasi warriors accelerated to converge upon the Weird Monster they saw half-concealed between the trees. On reflection, the war-cry could have been a tactical error. The Monster heard, and turned… and attacked. It bulleted toward them so hard that tatters of cloth were ripped free to tumble in the breeze, and when it closed on the tight formation of pegasus warriors, its padding spared it some of the blows the warriors had for it… but with a flail of a cerulean hoof, one pegasus warrior stalled and spun out, crashing through the trees, clonked on the head. Seeing this, the remaining four shrieked in exultant rage and snapped into a tightening pinwheel formation, cornering the Monster, blood in their eyes. It was on! They would show no mercy, they’d fight to the death just like the warriors of old. As one swerved in to deliver a killing blow, an ear-mangling squeak hit it full in the face. Again, a high-speed stall and loss of control, and another colorful winged pony fluttered down to the trees and bushes, even as the first one rose groggily from the foliage to fight again. The Monster swerved, making a break for it, trying to get over to a wooded area with heavy undergrowth, as if planning to hide there. “CUT IT OFF!” “GET IT!” “NO MERCY… AIIGH!” The third warrior had swerved too close, a fatal mistake. From the mouth of the Monster came a flickering orange flame, for all the world like a ball of wildly kicking filly moving too fast to see… and the warrior went down, kicked in the head and wing, losing neither but knocked out of the sky nonetheless. And then there were two, plus the groggy pegasus trying to regain altitude. “HAMMER AND ANVIL!” screamed one. “ON MY MARK!” replied the other, unhesitatingly. And out they arced, in two tight curves, and as the Monster dove for the trees and underbrush, the curves converged and accelerated… WHAM! “I got it! I GOT it!” cried the groggy pegasus, and she dove to tackle the floundering Monster. “Ow! Quit it!” “Hey, that’s ME!” “Stop, stop, it’s us now!” The dazed warrior slowed her battering hooves, and blinked. “What?” As she hovered, and as the third warrior flew up wincing and favoring one wing, the head of the Monster opened to reveal… the two pegasi who’d done the Hammer and Anvil maneuver, intending to smash together and splat the Monster between them. Instead, somehow they were wearing it. The four gawked at each other. “Did we win?” “We got it! And it was you all along!” “Why’d you hit me so hard? And you knocked out Kemuri with that screech! How did you do that, can you teach me how to do that?” “I did not! Go check on Kemuri. We were right there with you, it can’t have been us!” “But did we win?” The pegasi warriors looked at each other. “We totally won. Look, here’s its head.” “Yay!” “Let’s get Kemuri and go home and show the townsponies!” “…but who WAS that Weird Monster?” Hundreds of feet below, concealed in the underbrush, Rainbow Dash, Flight Lightning, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle huddled together being very quiet, until they heard the pegasi warriors go away. Through a tiny gap in the shrubbery, they saw that the pegasi were helping their sonically-stunned comrade along, and that he was stumbling all over the sky but was managing to keep up, mostly. Singing martial songs of triumph, they departed, bearing their trophy. “We’re gonna have to steal another costume,” said Rainbow Dash, quietly. As they traveled north and the capital of Neighpon approached, the crowds grew. Big Macintosh marveled, as he set up speaker columns, directed by a fiercely concentrating, attentively listening Octavia. In his experience, the bigger cities got, the cruddier they became. Canterlot was something of an exception because the hoity toity ponies who hung around with Princesses liked to keep their pretty buildings clean and shiny… but all the same, a farm pony only had to look and see that the greenery outside the Canterlot castle wasn’t nearly so well kept. And Fillydelphia… dang! You could say it was well fertilized. That was hard to deny. But it was shabby, from the city streets to the muddy roads to the cheerfully twisted ponies forever helping it live down to its notorious reputation. Neighpon was different. As the traveling musicians drew nearer to the capital, the greenery seemed to glow from within. The throngs of ponies flocking the streets seemed more cheerful, more prone to ‘yay!’ and frisk. The unicorns seemed haughtier, the pegasi more dramatic and courageous, their costumes pointier. As they traveled, they played gigs, and word spread far and wide. Octavia stunned listeners with the raw emotion of her expressive bow and put them through an emotional journey they’d not imagined possible from a cello. Big Macintosh kept an eye on her outside of the gigs, for she seemed to practice harder and harder and draw within herself: he’d expected her to have some fun with stallions on the way, but he’d not seen her pick out an audience member yet. And Vinyl Scratch, for all her proud Fillydelphian history, seemed to avoid sex ever since her night with the promoter. But, even more than Octavia, she laid it down, and whole packs of ponies attended their gigs and then galloped off as fast as they could to upcoming cities, giving notice and insisting their friends and relatives not miss the gig, and every gig got huger and more outrageous. When the evening came and Octavia and DJ Pon-3 delivered their musical double-whammy, they played to a sea of pony that surged like a real ocean. It even boasted whitecaps, and that wasn’t only the squirtings of excitable unicorns. Pegasi burst upwards out of the crowd in frenzies of feathery flapping, and one in particular, a white pegasus mare, seemed almost deranged with excitement. It didn’t occur to Big Macintosh to draw a distinction, but Vinyl Scratch watched the little jets of horngasm with a wry gaze from behind her rose-tinted shades. It was so different from Fillydelphia or Canterlot gigs. There were no magic light shows near Neighpon’s capital, other than the very organic spurts of raw magic which were never enough to cause serious burns or injury to nearby ponies. The unicorn light shows of Fillydelphia were actually much safer. Back near the coast, unicorns still produced light displays from their horns at dance parties. Unicorns making beams of light could be much safer than uncontained horngasm. But Vinyl had been surprised to see it, even near the coast. Unicorns making light beams explode from their horns, near the capital of Neighpon… was very bad form, and so they all bottled it up and spurted magic in a more erotic manner, both more prurient and more innocent… if you knew your history. Horngasm didn’t resemble the bolts of hostile magic unicorns had once used to make war on other ponies, so near the capital, horngasm was what you saw. Big Macintosh didn’t often try to join the dancing, anymore. The gigs were so packed, that he couldn’t justify taking up space that the Neighponnese ponies needed, plus he was the size of two of them. The little white pegasus fluttered up into view again: another example of the Neighponnese build. For all that she was slight, she was toned as hell, he thought. Very nice, actually… even her pegasus war garb wasn’t as pointy as the usual sort. It was pretty scanty, too… Big Macintosh’s eyes widened as he realized he wasn’t the only one ogling. She’d been appearing closer and closer to him, and as a unicorn magic-squirt reflected in her eyes, he realised that she was checking him out as much as he’d been checking her. Perhaps his evening’s entertainments could take a break from practicing on unicorns. If this crowd was any indication, these unicorns were so overflowing with magic that it was no great trick to get them squirting in orgasm. It was like their version of applause. The white pegasus popped up again, flapping like a crazy thing. A gout of horngasm splashed across her face. She didn’t flinch: perhaps liking the sting, she bared her teeth exultantly into it and that expression persisted as she dropped back into the heaving sea of pony once more. After DJ Pon-3’s spectacular final beats, Big Macintosh watched the crowd mill about, his ears quirked to the side in puzzlement. He’d lost sight of the white pegasus, and although it didn’t really matter all that much, still he felt disappointed: she really seemed to have a lot of attitude, and he’d had experience with lots of very attitudinous ponies and found ‘em exciting and enticing. It seemed like Hina would have to approve of him pleasuring the sparkiest, liveliest ponies… or would she? What if she expected him to seek out gentle mellow ponies, like Marble Pie back where he came from? Hina had personally overseen his screwing of Marble, and seemed well pleased with him over it. And then, after that, Hina had turned to him for her own needs. What if he was making a terrible mistake? What if she needed him to be faithful to her, what if she was pining away, never knowing he had crossed the sea and was travelling Neighpon just to be reunited with her? What would she say, would she be heartbroken and cry if she tasted some other mare’s pussy juice on his dick? Big Macintosh gazed tragically at nothing, his lip quivering. Something yanked on his tail, and he squealed like a filly and whirled around… It was the white pegasus. She looked even more manic than before, and grinned insanely at him. “HI!” she said. “Um… evenin’, ma’am,” rumbled Big Macintosh, blushing. She bounced up into the air off all four little hooves, with a squee of delight. “Yay!” “Yay?” blinked Big Macintosh. “You’re perfect!” “Ah am?” “You’re beautiful!” Big Macintosh blushed more. “Uh, uh, used to know a pony that said that. Uh… let’s not talk about that anymore?” “Give me exciting sex! The music makes my blood fizz! I must vent it!” On closer inspection, Big Macintosh saw that she was wearing little saddlebags. They clanked gently as she bounced. “Happens I was thinkin’ something a lil’ bit like that myself…” he said. “Yay! Come with me!” squeed the little white pegasus, and trotted off with great authority. Big Macintosh followed her, his ears perked forward, studying his would-be lover with interest. She wasn’t fooling. As she trotted, she winked merrily at him, glistening pink peeking out from between those toned rump-cheeks. He drew closer, and sniffed, and looked closely at her treasure: having had experience of a tiny unicorn who really shouldn’t have been playing with anything as well hung as him, Big Macintosh wanted to make sure it’d be safe to penetrate her… “WHOA! Hey!” he yelled. She had kicked at him, not once but three times in a wild flicker of movement that seemed barely controlled. She whirled, then whirled again to show him her pussy, then whirled again to protest, “No no, don’t stop! I didn’t mean it! Keep following me!” “Don’t ya want me seein’ your pretty?” argued Big Macintosh. “I thought Ah might fit up it, and then ya went for me!” “No, you will! You’ll see! I’m sorry! I promise we’ll fix it, don’t give up on me, please!” Big Macintosh drew alongside her, trotting vigorously, with high hoofsteps. “Now jes’ you calm down, missy, if ya want some Ponyville stallion action all’s ya got to do is ask nicely. Who’s givin’ up on who now?” She bounced again, and squealed. “Eee! I will! Calm down! You’ll see! Yay! You’re huge!” “Well y’see that’s why I was lookin’ so closely,” said Big Macintosh, “an’ forgive me if you don’t seem ta be calmin’ down all that much. Guess that’s all to th’ good, though?” “What for? What for to the good, what?” “Easy now, missy,” said Big Macintosh. The little white pegasus’s energy level was beginning to scare him. He was reminded of the unicorn who leapt about popping balloons with her horn when she came. He gulped, and continued, “I reckon I am a big feller compared to you, so if you want that pony thunder, you may need to be pretty worked up to take it.” “Eeee! eee! ee!” squealed the white pegasus, jumping clear over him and back again in a flail of hooves and wings. “WHOA!” yelled Big Macintosh. This time it was forehooves whizzing around his head. “Will ya cut that out? An’ who are you, anyhoof? Ah’m Big Macintosh.” At that, the pegasus stopped, and gazed at him… vibrating. “Hisanna! I’m Hisanna. Don’t worry. We’re almost there. It’ll be okay, hurry, hurry!” Big Macintosh trotted on, looking askance at her. “You figure I’ve got to get on ya real quick before you settle down? It did look like you were kinda small back there but I din’t think it was too much of a problem. Ah kin go gentle, ya know. Please don’t ask me to ram ya with all my strength on account of that sometimes don’t end well.” “No no,” said Hisanna. “It’s not like that. I’m tightened up far too much, eee! I know what to do. You’ll make me relax. And then we’ll make love and it will be beautiful. Are you what do you say, squeamish?” “Beg pardon?” “Blood, are you upset by blood?” she asked, still vibrating. “Ah double beg your pardon with nuts? Meanin’, are you nuts? Ma’am, Ah been trained by th’ best. If I ain’t bein’ a damnfool, I swear I won’t be hurtin’ your lil’ pegasus pussy. At least not in a bad way, if ya know what I mean?” “Yes yes! Good way! All the good ways. In here!” cried Hisanna. She swerved into a rather dingy little house, and Big Macintosh followed. It was a dump, untidy to the extent of Rarity in a major inspiration meltdown: but rather than giving the impression of powerful creative forces causing turmoil, there was a hint that this turmoil simply reflected the energies of this manic pegasus pony. He gawked at untidied plates, books open on top of other open books, an environment that suggested a pony who spent her time nearly exploding with untameable energy, and he followed her through the mess into… She faced him, and turned her head to frantically wrench at her saddlebags. The room was white, and tiled. The floor was tiled. There was a drain. And there were stains, and the unmistakable whiff of blood: not fresh, but that drain wasn’t for showering, nor bathing. The saddlebags came open, and disgorged their contents, which clanged on the ground. They were shiny and metallic and reminded Big Macintosh incongruously of Princess Celestia, because they were shoes, metal shoes. Boots, rather. And if they were Celestia’s, then she’d had a really, really bad day. Big Macintosh stared at four large spikey metal horse-boots strewn clattering across the shiny white tiles. He looked up at his manic pegasus mare. “I want you to stomp all over me wearing these,” she said, vibrating, her teeth gritted in a rictus grin, and her eye twitching. Big Macintosh sat down on the tiles, sticking his lower lip out. “Y’know what Ah want?” “What, what? Anything, I’ll do anything, what do you want, I’ll get it, I’ll give you ten of them! Name it!” “Ah want you to explain,” said Big Macintosh. “What th’ fuck is this?” She actually sagged. She also shuddered, with a grimace of what looked like pain. But then, she had explaining to do on exactly that subject, and Big Macintosh set his jaw. “Ah am waitin’!” he demanded. “I’m a nice pony, I am, and you best make this seem sensible. I got a good mind to go and get a Kirin!” “They’re never far,” she muttered. “Don’t ruin it for me? We probably have a few minutes. How can I convince you to give me what I need?” “They’re gonna bust in and STOP this consarned craziness?” blurted Big Macintosh. “I ain’t gettin’ in Kirin trouble over the likes of you!” “Nooo!” squealed Hisanna, and pounced, and suddenly she was hugging him with her forelegs, her wings rattling, her teeth chattering. “It’s not like that, please, don’t give up on me! They’ll totally let you, I just wanted it super intense! Please can you trample the fuck out of me, I swear the Kirin will understand, you can tell them I made you do it…” “Ah heard that excuse before,” insisted Big Macintosh. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest. She was shaking. He steeled himself. “You’re another one of them pervert-ponies, ain’t ya? Did Kirin do magic stuff to you so’s pain is pleasure? Ah ain’t playin’ them games. That ain’t for the likes of me.” “No!” cried Hisanna. She fixed him with a desperate gaze. “Do I have to spell it out?” Big Macintosh sighed. “Happens ya do. Why didn’t I pick out some nice lil’ unicorn nookie?” She shook him. “Giant horse… I am small, and tense, and very excited. I desperately want sex from you, and I cannot relax. I am one big knot.” “So?” “Including my pussy. I must BE relaxed to take you, and I crave that more than anything.” “So how am I s’posed to…” “Trample my wings,” said Hisanna urgently. Big Macintosh’s eyes flew wide. “Th’ hell you say! You want to have my foal? Wouldn’t be th’ first…” “No!” yelled Hisanna. She caught herself, and went on more quietly, as if trying to soothe his balky contrariness. “I see the Kirin regularly. Of course I will not make a foal. Nopony said that I would. Don’t you understand pegasus mares? How can you not understand what would happen?” Big Macintosh stared at her. “Go on. Let’s leave aside them mean-lookin’ horse-booties ya got there. I don’t like them things at all, missy. So you ain’t fixin’ to foal, but all the same you want… are you serious, trampling? Like, me walkin’ on your poor lil’ wings there? I heard of biting, but…” Hisanna moaned, an even more desperate look entering her eyes. “Uh, sorry,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens I do understand pegasuses. Mares, I mean. I’m sorry for talkin’ about biting your wings, I know that ain’t fair to a lady pegasus.” He frowned. “But wait a minute. What you want, that’s way the hell more intense. How exactly do you propose goin’ about this? You don’t look that beat up. Are you gonna, like, lie on your side or crouch down or…” At that, Hisanna broke from him. She flung herself onto her back, her wings spread out across the tiles, and she wailed, “Trample me! And then fuck me! And then trample me more!” Big Macintosh stared. “Um… you’re holdin’ your wings out flat. Almost like you mebbe know what you’re doin’ and it wouldn’t break nothin’ if you’re careful…” She started to speak, and then forced herself silent again… and lay there, ready for anything she could get him to do. “You ain’t foolin’ about one thing,” said Big Macintosh, “doin’ that to a lady pegasus, I reckon that would leave any mare a limp puddle of fuck-me.” He gulped. “Which I guess is the idea, huh? You really want a dickin’, then? And you figure you just cain’t relax enough, any other way?” Hisanna shuddered, lying on her back on the floor. In front of his eyes, her pussy winked good and hard. He prodded it with a hoof, and she wailed in sensual anguish. He gulped again. Her story checked out. She’d lubricated like mad, but there wasn’t much limpness to her. Couldn’t see up in there at all. Her body felt tense. “Ah see it’s this way,” said Big Macintosh. “But… Ma’am, I’ve seen some Neighponnese ponies. If you want this, tell me all of the truth. WHY do it gotta be this way? Tell me th’ whole truth, or Ah walk out of here right now.” Her ears laid back. She shuddered. But… she spoke, slowly and reluctantly. “You’re right. There… is more. The Kirin… are thorough. They heal me until I am full of energy and feel no pain.” “Yeah?” Hisanna winced. “I need it, giant horse. I don’t deserve to feel no pain. If I feel pain, it keeps me in check. I remember. I remember not to swoop down on innocent ponies. I don’t kick them in the head, instead I can rest for a time. I am not so compelled to fight, if I am c—crushed and broken. I remember other ponies c—can be hurt. And then the Kirin come and take the pain away, and I have to go find more pain. Do you see? I need your trampling. It makes me kind.” Big Macintosh scratched his head with a hoof. “Y’ever considered havin’ Kirin fix your fucked-up head, ma’am? I’m jes’ sayin’.” She glared at him. “I will remain Hisanna. How dare you? I am the greatest of warriors. But so many of the monsters are destroyed. I slew a dragon myself, that devoured townsponies, that went after foals as their mothers screamed helplessly. I must remain Hisanna, even if… Do not insult me again!” “Sorry!” said Big Macintosh, his ears laid back. This was what had been jumping over him, hoof-punching inches from his skull, yanking his tail? “You are forgiven… you are some foreign horse, doubtless you could not slay a dragon, you are one of those to be protected,” she said. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, eyes wide. “But… okay, let me git this straight. You want me walkin’ on your wings so’s they’ll hurt and remind you to be gentle instead of spazzin’ around beatin’ on townsponies?” She hesitated, and he realized his error. “AND because trompin’ on a lady pegasus’s wings is like to blowin’ her into next week with kinky fuckyness?” “Eee!” squealed Hisanna, and thrashed her wings violently, and then stretched them out again, hyperventilating. “All right, all right,” grumbled Big Macintosh. “With that last part, now I believe ya. I ain’t wearin’ them shoe things. However, I reckon I kin pop some of your corks, ma’am. And then, Ah will ride ya off into the sunset, which is gonna be much nicer, trust me on that one. Here Ah come. I will step on your wings.” “ALL of me!” squealed Hisanna, shuddering. Big Macintosh pouted. “Some of you. And it’s against my better judgement, but ya convinced me. Hold still.” He stepped forward, and she began to pant and shiver, and with a deliberate motion and careful shifting of weight, Big Macintosh stood upon the shank of her pristine white pegasus wing. Hisanna screamed, and began to thrash. Hastily, Big Macintosh stepped on the other wing, but then jumped back in haste, for her forehooves kicked madly up at him and connected solidly with his massive chest. “OOF!” He stood well back, and she wept and begged him, “Again!” “Eeenope!” “Use the shoes, you have to use the shoes, it’s the only way!” “Nope twice! Dang it, ma’am, you’re worse’n Fillydelphia, an’ I am outta here!” “NO!” she shrieked. “I love you, I’ll kill you, no! Don’t leave, you have to finish this! You can’t stop now!” Big Macintosh set his jaw. “Not helping. Right now, Ah want to stick my dick in you about as much as I wanna stick it in a wild griffin’s beak. Ah am a gentlepony, ma’am, and I’m gonna give you jes’ one more chance. What do I have to do ta fuck you without you flailin’ and beating the daylights outta me?” He hesitated. “My, uh, a pony I used to know, he always liked nippin’ mare tail to quiet ‘em down. Not the tail, o’ course, I mean bitin’ their bum. Am I missin’ something, maybe that would do you good? You ain’t quiet and that’s a natural born fact.” Hisanna shuddered, gritted her teeth, spoke in a voice that was only slightly quavering… “Step on more of me. And I’ll relax. Not just wings. And please, the shoes?” Big Macintosh glared at them. Then he glared at the drain in the middle of the white tiled floor. “Not th’ shoes. Ah will do m’ best. Hold fuckin’ still.” This time, as he stepped forward, she didn’t kick up at him. She held still, and shuddered horribly as Big Macintosh walked with little mincing steps right up onto her body, and as one hoof crushed her wing against the tiles and his hind hooves sunk into her inner thigh and left hock, and his right forehoof hovered in the air looking for a place to come down, Hisanna made a weak agonised keening noise, her neck stretched out against the tiles, and gazed up at him in desperate longing. …and struggled to place her neck under his descending hoof. “Aw, fuck you, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh despairingly. He’d managed a sort of limp dangle-dick, but felt it shrinking up and trying to hide inside his sheath rather than be too near his pegasus doormat. He shook his head, lowered his hoof gently, and then a quarter of his weight was on her neck and her eyes rolled back in her head… “Rrrrkkkkckkkkk! kkckk!” wasn’t the most sensual cry he’d ever heard, but it was what Hisanna had to offer. He could hear her pussy winking, clenching on itself, smell the mare-ooze that came faster and faster. She hadn’t lied to him. He felt her body shudder in orgasm beneath him. It seemed incredible that she could survive his full weight… but really, if he’d been laying on top of her it would do her no harm. The only difference was a pretty big difference: no sane pony wanted to be walked on with another pony’s hard hooves. Big Macintosh blinked. Oh, yeah: Rarity, of course. Her spa treatments sometimes included Vera walking on her back, carefully balancing, with socks on her little hooves. But Rarity would never expect a hulking farm pony to tromp cruelly all over h… no, maybe she would, all he could really say was she’d never asked him to do it. And he’d never seen her sporting injuries to suggest it. No, there was that one time she’d been protecting Derpy and got herself good and trampled by panicking townsponies! And she’d been real proud of herself, but all the same she hadn’t asked for that. And Rarity’s terrifying inner sanctum, now fallen into disuse, had never contained a tiled floor or a drain. He realized he’d been shifting his weight to balance. Hastily, he withdrew his forehoof from Hisanna’s neck, and then prodded her head with the same hoof to see if she reacted. It proved unnecessary: the white pegasus drew deep shuddering breaths, her eyes rolled back in her head, cute little pony tongue hanging out, but while he’d been thinking of Rarity she’d been sinking into a sort of erotic trance. There wasn’t a trace of resistance left, and she was as limp as a puddle of applesauce. Big Macintosh frowned, worriedly. While balancing atop his would-be lover, he adjusted his stance, trying not to apply too much pressure in any one place but assuming she would require more thorough attention. He frowned worse, as he struggled to reposition one hoof after another. How was he supposed to do this without tearing her poor hide, why couldn’t he have got himself a hooficure? It could’ve been worse, he could’ve had a sharp fashionable edge put on his hooves, and then she’d be in real trouble. But he flinched at every chip and rough edge on his mighty hooves, as he saw the bulky keratin sink into her unresisting flesh. He frowned worst of all at the nasty spiky shoes that lay, ignored, on the tiles. He set his jaw and, scowling, tried to knead his hapless pegasus mare into something that would satisfy her crazy desires. Damned if he would make her bleed, or break her bones, or anything nasty like that. Nope! He just plain would not. If he moved carefully enough, he thought he’d most likely be able to avoid it. It reminded him, suddenly, of treading on grapes like they did in the Sisterhood Social. Except he wasn’t about to jump up and down and trot up a storm! And to hell with the drain, and for that matter to hell with this crazy pegasus: she’d just have to deal with something more like a spa massage, and like it. She’d been shuddering continuously under his hooves, barely making a sound, and it seemed to be subsiding. She felt softer. Big Macintosh looked down. “Aw, for…” Very carefully, he stepped clear. Hisanna had passed out, her expression an odd blend of ecstacy and agony. She’d barely made a sound… and most of her body was covered in obvious, livid bruises. Some were sharply delineated, and others were broad areas of ruddy blunt trauma like the Fillydelphian ponies got from floggers. He had not broken her skin once, nor had he heard a single bone snap, but for all that he was a heavy, heavy pony, and he’d given her everything she wanted after all. Big Macintosh stared for a minute as her battered chest rose and fell, and then he turned and walked quietly out of the room. He stepped through her living room, through the detritus of her shabby and ill-kept life, to the front door, and he seized the handle in his teeth and yanked it, opening the door and looking up. “Thought so,” he said to the team of three Kirin he saw waiting outside. One bit his lip, anxiously. “We saw she had found a stranger horse. Are you all right?” “Yer askin’ ME?” retorted Big Macintosh. “Yes,” said the Kirin. “Yes, I am.” “Ah’m jes’ dandy. What th’ pony hell, gentlemen? Just, what th’ pony hell is all this?” said Big Macintosh. He found he was heaving deep, panicky breaths, was beginning to shout. “Ah thought you was s’posed to be NICE and what the HELL is this?” “Check on her,” ordered the leader Kirin, and the other two pushed past Big Macintosh to get to Hisanna. “She’s fine!” said Big Macintosh. “Mostly! In fact she don’t want to be healed! Did you know that?” “Yes,” said the Kirin. Behind Big Macintosh, one of the other Kirin called back, “Amazing! She is appeased, from only contusions! She might have days, a week of peace!” “Really?” said the leader Kirin. “Get him out of here!” said the third Kirin. “We will comfort her. He needs to be out of town right away!” “She TOLE me to do that! An’ worse!” protested Big Macintosh. The third Kirin fixed him with a stern look. “We know. Now, do you want to stay here and do this over and over when she demands more, until your mind is distorted by what she demands of you, and in the end be hunted by the Kirin when you lose all sense of normal pony decency?” Big Macintosh boggled at him. “EENOPE!” The third Kirin bared his teeth, and Big Macintosh flinched. “Then go away, at once. There is comfort for this mare, for a time, but it is not for you to give.” Before Big Macintosh knew what was happening, he was being dragged away, by his ear, and the leader Kirin was muttering “S’rry! Scuse me! Th’s way!” They sat on a lovely, picturesque hill. Big Macintosh was shaking. The Kirin sat primly on its haunches, looking very sad. “Did Ah do wrong?” asked Big Macintosh. “That is a very hard question to answer,” said the Kirin. “That means yes,” said Big Macintosh. “On account of good is simple. You jes’ see it. So, now what?” The Kirin frowned. “No. It means it is a very hard question to answer.” “What are ya gonna do with her?” said Big Macintosh. “She don’t want to be healed. Are you gonna heal her? She needs to go around hurtin’ to stop her attackin’ other ponies.” “Is that what she told you?” said the Kirin. “What do you think she is doing now?” “You tell me, mister!” “Crying,” said the Kirin, solemnly. “Like the gentle pony she once was.” Big Macintosh’s expression crumbled. He hung his head. “Damn it. DAMN it.” He felt the Kirin’s nose nuzzle the side of his face, heard the whisper. “Please listen. That was your gift, but you cannot return. If we are lucky, you broke through…” “That is jes’ exactly what I was tryin’ not to do! Dammit…” “What?” Big Macintosh wiped his eyes with the back of a hoof, and then glared at the hoof. “She wanted me to wear them spiky boots! If I’d done that I dang well woulda broke through, she’d be in chunks by now.” “We keep taking those away from her,” said the Kirin. “She makes more, hides them.” “What kinda monster is she?” asked Big Macintosh, sniffling. “What th’ pony hell?” “You may not return to her pony hell,” ordered the Kirin. “We have removed three ponies already, when she became attached and fixated upon them. Maybe you will be the last. It’s possible you succeeded where others failed. We can but hope.” Big Macintosh just stared. “Ah would like for you to explain what the hay was goin’ on,” he said. “An’ I promise, I ain’t never goin’ back. I thought we were gonna fuck, not… whatever that was!” “You did not have intercourse?” asked the Kirin, quickly. “Aw hell no!” “It is well,” said the Kirin. “Our chances improve. Our elder, Daiyam, thinks part of what’s been trapping her in this was the sex. She would lure ponies into this behavior, and then have intercourse, and Daiyam thinks it was both distraction and reinforcement…” “If you ain’t punishin’ me, are you punishin’ her?” asked Big Macintosh. “It just ain’t right.” “How much did she tell you?” asked the Kirin. Big Macintosh blinked. “She’s a great warrior. An’ she gets so worked up she starts attackin’ ponies. Dang near bashed my head in, I believed what she said. She’s gotta be hurt to keep her in check, when she hurts she remembers other ponies kin be hurt, and she’s gentle. For a while.” The Kirin bowed his head, and a tear glinted in his eye. “That… was all bullshit, huh?” asked Big Macintosh. “Not exactly,” said the Kirin. “Did she really say that? She remembers other ponies can be hurt?” “It caught in her throat a lil’ bit,” said Big Macintosh. “But eyup, that she did say.” “It would. Let me tell you about Hisanna,” said the Kirin. Once upon a time, there was a little white pegasus mare. She was fleet of wing and swift of hoof, but she struggled to amount to much as a warrior, because she was a gentle thing and didn’t want to do harm. There were few monsters left to battle, and she wondered if her way of life was truly necessary. Still, she trained in the ways of pegasus combat, and rose to become a respected martial artist, peculiarly gifted as a teacher, for she could execute the fiercest attacks while holding back her blows and feinting only. The Kirin found this charming, but it didn’t sit well with other pegasi, who expected more ferocity from their kind. Most of all, it didn’t please her lover, a bold and strong sandy-colored pegasus stallion. He was a reckless and rarely-satisfied fellow, who would joke about having a foal with her, and that it would be the only warrior better than him: combining his killer instinct, with her speed and dexterity. It was only jokes, for they weren’t allowed to breed. In the absence of a family life, unable to keep up with his mate in martial arts sparring, this pegasus stallion took to roaming far and wide, trying to find monsters to slay. The two invented the Hammer and Anvil attack, where two pegasus warriors would combine their velocity magic into a destructive force that could slay any monster. Hisanna and Shinchu enjoyed celebrity beyond any pegasi in Neighpon. Through Hisanna’s gentleness, they were even able to teach their Hammer and Anvil attack to other pegasi, without killing them. And then, a day arrived that would live in tragedy. Shinchu flew into town in great excitement, declaring that he had found a mighty monster. He woke Hisanna from a nap, insisting that she help him fight it, crying out that it was urgent for her to take to the air right away. And where now is the monster? asked Hisanna. It is here, declared Shinchu, and then screams tore the air into bloody tatters. He had flown back home, allowing it to follow, thinking he and Hisanna would destroy it in front of everypony for their own glory, using their signature move. Instead, it rampaged into town and attacked a school while Shinchu tried to rouse Hisanna from sleep. Shinchu and Hisanna burst from their home, to see this carnage. Neither had ever seen a real, wild dragon before that day. Fierce Shinchu lost no time: even as the limbs of foals dripped from the monster’s huge mouth, he cried ‘Hammer and Anvil!’ and tore into their practiced and synchronized attack. In the blink of an eye, he tore around in a loop and converged on the beast’s head. Hisanna, who had never seen a monster before that second, flinched. The peaceful virtuoso of martial arts did half a loop, her form a shambles due to her shock and terror, and stalled out ten feet from the dragon’s head. From there, she saw that Shinchu had completed his loop… and come to rest, with no opposing burst of velocity magic, inside the dragon’s mouth. And her flinch took only a second, but a second was long enough for her to watch her lover crushed to death in the dragon’s terrible jaws. Hisanna went berserk. Ponies fled in all directions from the screaming, the whirling hornetlike madness, the confused roaring of a huge beast that did not understand why its body was being torn apart by the mauling attacks of a relatively tiny flying pony. They say that Hisanna took less than one minute to reduce the dragon to pieces the size of a house, or smaller. They say she collapsed, near death, still trying to tear the dragon apart. From the time that the great warrior Hisanna again awoke, she was hopelessly insane. She had lost no martial abilities, and indeed she claimed to be the mightiest pegasus warrior in all of Neighpon: but her behavior was erratic, she woke screaming with nightmares, she behaved aggressively to earth ponies and stampeded them with roughhousing… and, most worryingly of all, she did not remember Shinchu had ever existed. Big Macintosh stared helplessly at the Kirin. “So did Ah do wrong?” “That is a very hard question to answer,” repeated the Kirin. “You must now leave that story. It will continue, without you.” “But you said, maybe I broke though!” said Big Macintosh. “Do you mean, she might remember? On account of the wicked things I done?” The Kirin frowned. “Daiyam believes some part of her is trying to remember. He thinks she seeks to re-enact, upon her body, the doom that met Shinchu. So far, she has only perfected her grief and madness, and seduced several foolish ponies into taking part.” “What happened to them?” asked Big Macintosh. “We haven’t lost any of them to evil, yet,” said the Kirin, “but have had to move one to another town, and two farther still. We had to resettle them, because they had developed a desire to trample and harm other pegasi. The memory of ponies can be long, and some remember the dark times when pegasi were just another sort of monster to them. In that sense, what you did is something we’ve spent centuries teaching earth ponies not to do. In that sense, you did do wrong…” The second Kirin came walking out of the darkness, weeping. “What happened with her?” said the leader Kirin. “She remembers everything,” said the second Kirin. “Come and help her grieve.” The leader turned to Big Macintosh. “Leave here. Now.” As the dawn came up, Big Macintosh was still pulling the cart along pristine, manicured Neighpon roads, the town miles behind him. He walked slowly, exhaustedly, trying to avoid bumps because Vinyl and Octavia were still asleep in the cart. “Hina wouldn’ta said I done wrong,” he muttered, and kept moving. Shelter“Sooooo…” said Vinyl Scratch, “what do you want to see at the next gig?” Octavia frowned. “What do you mean by that, Vinyl Scratch?” “Whoa, hey, don’t get snippy, I was just making conversation!” “Snippy? I, snippy? Certainly not,” said Octavia. “Forgive me, it just seemed that you were being… suggestive.” Scratch lowered her shades, and gave Octavia a look. “Yeah, far be it from me to be suggestive when traveling around with a pony who plays ten thousand concertos all about her boyfriend’s dick. I’m totes the problem there.” Octavia pouted. “Do not.” “Sorry. Not quite ten thousand yet?” “Some of them are cantatas. If you can’t tell the difference between a concerto and a cantata…” “Ma’am?” said Big Macintosh, steadily pulling the cart full of musicians and gear to the next gig, “Which?” snapped Vinyl Scratch. “Both,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah’ve worked for mares all my life, y’know.” “So?” “Y’all both kinda snippy,” said Big Macintosh. “No offense. Jes’… in a spirit of fairness. Am Ah pullin’ the cart too rough or somethin’?” Vinyl gave him a stricken look. “Aw! Of course not, Big Macintosh. You’re fine. Really? Are we snippy?” “I’m not,” sniffed Octavia. Upon receipt of an exasperated look from her lifelong friend and DJ, she pouted more. “I’m sorry, Scratchie. I promise it won’t harm my performances, rather the reverse. Please don’t mind me. Shall I sit farther away in the cart?” Vinyl gasped. “Nuh-uh! I thought something was bothering you. Tell Scratchie! Was it the wrong note two gigs ago?” Octavia’s ears laid back, hard. “There WAS no WRONG NOTE,” she declared, flatly. “Aw! I was only thinking of the one near the end of the finale, where you hang on it, and it went all sharp and stuff.” Octavia screwed her eyes shut in frustration. “Shouldn’t you be sticking to things that go thud? Who taught you about sharp and flat all of a sudden?” “Not fair, Tavi! I know about that stuff, I can’t have stuff in different keys, it’d clash.” “Well, DJ Pon-3, the note you’re thinking of is what we’d call somewhat microtonal. That means I get to lean on it, make it go more sharp for effect, and THAT means it’s on purpose. And next time, you can listen with your heart instead of your buttocks, and then maybe you’ll relate to the song of longing and frustration within the pre-penetration sonata that… WHAT, Big Macintosh?” “This is you ladies not bein’ snippy? Ain’t sure you even need me right now. That cart’s liable to roll up th’ hills by itself, powered by sheer sass.” Vinyl buried her head in her hooves for a moment. “Okay. Okay. We’re ALL snippy.” “I’m…” began Octavia stubbornly. “No, hear me out! I should have warned you,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Have either of you been on an extended tour before? I thought not. Listen, it’s okay, this happens. Road fatigue.” “Ain’t tired,” said Big Macintosh. “I’ll pull this cart all day long.” “As we learned!” accused Octavia. “No, take it easy Tavi,” urged Vinyl, “he explained that. We woke up on the road because he had some trouble with a mare and had to beat hooves out of town. A Kirin said so, and we don’t argue with Kirin. If they wanted us to move on, that’s what we do, no arguments.” Octavia glowered. “WE did nothing wrong.” “Ah din’t do WRONG!” protested Big Macintosh. “Ah screwed a pegasus lady, kinda! It… it din’t go well, if I’m honest.” Vinyl looked at him, quizzically. “You pretty much are honest, Big Macintosh. You didn’t talk about it. Are you in trouble?” “Naw! …it’s complicated.” “Let me guess. Neighponnese warrior pegasus, batshit crazy, really weird needs?” Big Macintosh nodded gratefully. “Eyup!” “Then let’s keep going, ‘cos that’s what the Kirin wanted you to do,” said Vinyl. “Better luck next time.” “I’mma go back to practicin’ on unicorns next time!” snorted Big Macintosh. “You do that. And Octavia, take it from me, when the road fatigue gets to you, just let off some steam however you can, okay? Drag off some nice earth pony or something, after the gig. I know you and Stout Heart are flexible that way, and it’ll make you feel better.” Octavia stared off into space. “I’m fine, Scratchie.” “I don’t think I’ve seen you do it, and I had fun a couple times and Big Macintosh is leaving a trail of mares behind him…” “I’m fine,” repeated Octavia. “Anyway, I had to comfort you after one of those times. Let’s focus on the music, dear heart.” Scratch looked stricken. “Comes from mixing business with pleasure. And it was for both of us, everything’s riding on this tour…” Octavia gave her a stern look. “Vinyl! Firstly, I did not ask you to practice blandishments upon anypony, on my behalf. And secondly, did you not listen? Let’s focus on the music. I have every faith in you, Scratchie. You’re beautiful, and gifted. Focus on the music and we’ll get through this tour gloriously. You mind your music and I’ll mind mine, and Big Macintosh will pull us from town to town, and then we’ll go home covered in laurels.” Vinyl gulped. “Oh, Tavi, I hope so…” “I know so, dear Scratchie.” “Though ya know after the big post-final-gig party I usually go home covered in something else…” “Of course you do, Scratchie,” soothed Octavia. “Now, let me tend to my inspiration and you’ll tend to yours, and everything will be fine.” “I totally can hook you up with some inspiration…” “NO, Vinyl Scratch,” said Octavia, and the discussion was over. The road was indeed becoming fatiguing, thought Big Macintosh. It didn’t seem like that big a deal, until you saw a new town of eager strange faces for the eleventh day in a row. He reminded himself once again that his journey had a purpose: he was going to be reunited with Hina, who doubtless was pining for him, wasting away. Big Macintosh chided himself for fooling around with pegasi: even back in Ponyville, pegasi had been awkward, and here in Neighpon it seemed they were just about impossible. Clearly the only sensible thing was to practice on the unicorns, if he could find sensible ones that wouldn’t get him in trouble. Big Macintosh frowned. It seemed he’d barely gotten away with his latest escapade, with the crazy pegasus mare. That had been frightening. Those Kirin had been the farthest cry imaginable from his sweet, vulnerable Hina, he thought. It seemed like he’d been inches away from some terrible punishment. And who could blame them? Big Macintosh vowed to himself that he would never do harm to Neighponnese mares again, no matter how crazy they were or how much they begged him to do it. The idea of marauding Kirin, lurking outside every door and ready to exact dreadful punishment upon him… it was hard to shake. There was a flicker of movement up ahead, an odd phantasm of pink that seemed almost familiar. Big Macintosh reared, snorting, in startlement… but it was already gone. “What happened?” called Vinyl Scratch “Nothin’,” replied Big Macintosh, and continued on his way, thinking. How did the Kirin thing even work? He pondered this, frowning. They were all over the place, unless of course they were stalking him and his friends. They sure came to the rescue in a big hurry when he’d screwed a Neighponnese pony too much… but then, it wasn’t as simple as that, was it? Seemed like they also did the same thing, to power up. What did they need with all that power? If it was just about the power, why did they care about the pegasus ponies? What was up with the Neighponnese earth ponies? They were cute and all, seemed happy and nice, but was it just their way of doing whatever the Kirin told ‘em to? Big Macintosh frowned again. He wouldn’t be able to ask Vinyl Scratch. She got upset when he acted like the Kirin were there to boss the lesser ponies around. But then, she’d got upset when she couldn’t squirt magic for the Kirin that screwed her, and what was the deal with that? Couldn’t she just enjoy it? But no, she’d been terribly guilty, even run away from Neighpon to get away from her shame. Was he supposed to be that ashamed if he couldn’t get unicorns to squirt for Hina? Big Macintosh snorted, again. It’d be a cold day in Tartarus if he couldn’t get unicorns to squirt for Hina. But was there supposed to be an extra level to it, was he supposed to devote himself to his Kirin? And of course he would, thought Big Macintosh! He was bringin’ all kinds of farm horse devotion to her what captured his natural born earth pony heart! But, all the same, he felt that his lumbering thoughts weren’t really keeping up with things. The Kirin, for instance. It did seem strange that his Kirin was a charming, innocent little darling who couldn’t sleep for how much she missed him and longed to see him again, yet all them other Kirin ran around being very bossy and punishing ponies. Seemed almost like the Kirin he loved was a whole other breed, and the ones they kept meeting in the small Neighpon towns were much more petty and judging. But that was what they were for, to hear folks tell it: they passed judgement, and then they killed your pony ass if you were bad. Big Macintosh frowned for pret-near the fifth time, or the ninth, or the eleventh. It seemed like a dangerous, lonely journey through all the frightening Kirin just to get to his true love. He trotted on, pulling the cart. He was nothing if not determined. In the cart, Vinyl Scratch stared out at the passing foliage as the cart bumped along. Road fatigue was a bitch, she thought. Ponies went kind of wacky under the strain. She sighed. She wasn’t really worried: there was something soothing about being back in Neighpon, cared for by Kirin. You could get pretty wacky in safety when you lived in Neighpon, she knew. The Kirin kept an eye on you, with their superior wisdom, and acted as sort of a referee for your wackiness: they’d urge you to the path of good, and see to it that you weren’t hurting anypony, to the best of their ability. You bore some responsibility for continuing to mean well, but the Kirin were endlessly patient so long as there was a chance of a harmonious outcome. On the other side of the cart, Octavia wriggled upon her seat and gritted her teeth. She was humming to herself. Music being her outlet, she allowed it to fountain forth, and her weary brain catalogued the ideas as they came. The day rumbled past on wooden wheels as they made their way to their next stop, and their next concert. It hadn’t affected Octavia’s performance, at any rate. Shreds of broken ponyhair frayed off her bow as she held it aloft, her climactic final notes still hanging in the air, the audience cheering madly. Vinyl Scratch slipped behind her decks, a glint in her eye, the background hiss of live decks mingling with the cheering of the crowd. Big Macintosh watched his musician friends ply their craft, but then he gave a whinny and lifted a hind leg, for something had touched him in a rather sensitive place. He glanced back, to see a Neighpon-dainty unicorn behind him. Most of her, anyhow. She was a pretty pearl-gray color, with a lighter gray mane and tail that had darker gray highlights to form a sort of outline, and he couldn’t see her eyes, because she was nuzzling his testicles. Just the tip of her horn showed over his massive red rump. Here we go again, thought Big Macintosh. His brow scrunched up as he watched the tip of that horn make thoughtful, meditative little arcs behind his hindquarters. He lifted his leg higher, feeling her muzzle tenderly prod his balls. He cleared his throat. “Uh… ma’am?” She peeked from behind him as if they were both privy to a wonderful surprise, and her clear blue eyes crinkled up at the edges with good nature and more than a bit of mischief. “Hi!” she said, and the bass dropped. As the crowd lifted with a shout and began to dance, Big Macintosh cringed at the aural assault. DJ Pon-3 was in the house, and she apparently meant to level it and prance on the rubble. He backed up, ear-flattened, even as the ponies around him pressed forward. “Not your jam, huh?” said the little unicorn wryly. Big Macintosh looked again. She wasn’t that little, she’d been crouching down to nuzzle him better. Kind of leggy. Seemed normal enough: smaller than most Ponyville mares, cute little horn, slim and well groomed. She looked back at him, and he didn’t see much in the way of creepy madness in her eyes. “Depends how y’mean,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens I ain’t missed a show yet.” She gave him a wicked little grin. “I hope not. I think these musical ponies would be sad if you did. I saw you pulling their cart into town.” Big Macintosh took a moment to scan the crowd. Before his eyes had got halfway, they were interrupted: she’d scooted in front of him with a lithe wriggle, and reared slightly, to smile into his face with her hooves gently on his shoulders. “They should thank you, a big strong horse like you. Do they thank you?” “Uh, uh, sometimes?” stammered Big Macintosh. “HOW do they thank you?” pressed the mare, tilting her head coyly. She really was cute, with her blunt little horn: kind of like Lyra back home, but less green. “Uh, they let me have first pick of th’ best grass to graze on, an’ Miss Octavia rubbed my back once when I’d been pullin’ up hills a lot and Ah got sore.” “Just that?” said the mare. “Oh, and where are my manners? I’m Suru. And you are?” “Big Macintosh, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, and waited for it. Sometimes when they heard his name, the creepy madness flared up in their eyes. The tiny one he’d laid by the beach… no, she hadn’t even asked his name. Maybe as he got nearer the capital of Neighpon, the ponies got more civilized? “I’m pleased to meet you,” said Suru. “Can I get you a drink of water?” Apparently they did. Big Macintosh studied the friendly, solicitous unicorn. “That ain’t a bad idea, ma’am, thankee. Been workin’ to set this place up, and a drink of water does sound nice.” “The musician ponies don’t give you water?” inquired Suru. “Be fair, they were busy!” protested Big Macintosh. “They’re workin’ now, it’s their turn!” She lifted an eyebrow elegantly. “Do they… play?” “Am Ah readin’ too much into that, ma’am?” “Oh, no no,” said Suru. “Don’t mind me. I’m just nosy.” “As Ah learned!” snorted Big Macintosh. She giggled, an adorably wicked look on her face. “You noticed? I can do more. Unless the lovely musicians have played you as well as they play their instruments, and drained you. So tragic. Poor thing. It didn’t look as though they had, though it’s not my business.” That seemed relatively normal for a lecherous but sane pony untroubled by creepy madness. Big Macintosh sighed. “Naw. Funny you should ask, ma’am. Ah play with ponies my own self, but we don’t do none of that between musicians an’ road crew. That’s me, I’m road crew.” “But you get to play with ponies once your work is done?” pressed the pretty unicorn mare. “Except last night it went all wrong and Ah din’t get off or nothin’. So if I was more blue-balled, ma’am, that would be why.” Ah, THERE it was. Big Macintosh wearily saw Suru’s eyes dilate and widen. Creepy madness, acquired. At least she seemed pretty and not too small for him, and she had behaved sort of normal… at least, so far. She gave a little laugh, tensely. “Poor thing! Does that usually happen?” This time, it was she who scanned the crowd, her ears back in anxiety. “Ma’am? Uh, Suru?” “Yes?” she said, eyes locked to his, lips parted expectantly. “Do you want to go off an’ have a lil’ fun? But we gotta talk first.” “I would be delighted,” said Suru, her eyes shining. “Can I get you that drink of water? Plenty of water, for you.” “Sure,” said Big Macintosh, “jes’ as long as you talk.” “Just talk?” “FIRST talk.” Behind DJ Pon-3’s shades, Vinyl Scratch watched Big Macintosh leave early with the pearl-gray unicorn. “What Ah’m askin’, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, “is whether you got some creepy kink goin’ on where you want me to hurt you. Cos’ you’d be surprised how often that’s been happening with a big Ponyville fella like me, comin’ to town.” “Oh!” blinked Suru. “Does that mean you’re distressed, because you’re not really hung on an epic scale as your size would suggest, and your feelings are hurt? I promise, that wouldn’t worry me.” “Naw,” admitted Big Macintosh, “Ah kind of am.” He watched her warily, expecting at least a ‘yay!’ She cocked her head. “Well, I’d like to try the challenge, if it’s not unwise. It can hardly be that dangerous unless you’re rough, and that’s not what I’m about. You being rough, I mean. It sounds like you don’t want to be? That’s good, the Kirin would like you.” “Sometimes they do,” said Big Macintosh. Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes they do not?” “Din’t say that,” protested Big Macintosh. “But that’s what Ah mean. Ma’am, I got to be careful cos’ I’ve had some pretty wild mares in Neighpon and it ain’t always nice, how they want it. Especially this one unicorn.” Suru’s eyes widened. “What did she do?” “Went off like a firework display an’ hurt herself,” said Big Macintosh. “Er… kinda. I shoulda known better, honest. She was real little, an’ they’d done something to her so’s she could enjoy fuckin’…” Suru’s eyes roamed over his body. “Oh, my. I’ve heard of her, yes. She is all right?” “Whole team of Kirin around her,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah reckon she’s fine by now. Gonna take a while for that horn to grow back.” “I have plenty left!” protested Suru. “You can’t fault me for that, I am responsible, I understand my limits!” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Ah mean hers, ma’am. Somethin’ you need to tell me?” Suru’s gaze dropped. She was blushing. She muttered, “You’ve caught me out…” She gasped. This time, the nuzzle was returned… but Big Macintosh was nuzzling the top of her head, her ears, that cute little blunted horn: that being all he could reach of her, while she looked down. Her head came up quick, so quick he had to dodge the swinging hornlet, her eyes wide as they stared at him. “Oh my goodness…” “You got to tell me, though,” he said. “Ain’t fair to me, otherwise.” Suru pouted. “Oh, all right. I like orgasming.” “Most ponies do,” suggested Big Macintosh. “I like orgasming a LOT. Don’t you see how I’ve decorated my bedroom?” Big Macintosh looked around. It did seem rather… padded. He lifted an eyebrow. “Bouncin’ off the walls, much?” “Flameproof,” said Suru. He boggled. “You set FIRE to your lil’ house? That’s your fetish? You’re a pyro-pony? Ma’am, I…” “No, no!” she protested. “Not that way! Oh, how am I ever going to explain this to a foreign earth pony who’s never seen a…” She trailed off, looking at his wicked smile. “Gotcha,” said Big Macintosh. “You ain’t so clever as all that, ya silly pony. I know all about unicorns, an’ more. I knew what that stuff was soon as I looked at it.” “Oh…” He nodded. “Ah’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, Miss Suru. I’ve seen that stuff blasted away faster than you could blink. In fact, happens I was responsible for it.” Suru’s eyes kept getting wider and wider. “Oh?” “Yeah,” said Big Macintosh. “I made love nice and gentle to Princess Luna, but what she done with her horn, well, that weren’t gentle at all.” He winced. “Also, I made another fine lady set fire to her lacy curtains, an awful long time ago. An’ was she ever mad! She didn’t think she had any squirt in her, but I fixed that.” Big Macintosh brooded for a moment. “Dang, that was a long time ago. Still, she’s well fixed now. Guess it all worked out.” Suru looked about ready to faint, regarding him with awed terror and fascination. “Oooooh!” “So don’t you fret, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh. “I know there ain’t no fetish. Jes’ how you unicorns do.” At that, she blushed hard again. “No, there is.” “Ulp!” “It’s okay!” protested Suru. “It will be okay, don’t worry. I think you can do it, and there’s nothing to worry about.” “Ma’am, if you knew what I been through in this crazy country,” rumbled Big Macintosh, “you wouldn’t say that so easy! All right then. Let me make some wild-ass guesses. You got a ball fetish. You fixin’ to kick me in them?” “No, no!” “You want me to drink a lotta water. You fixin’ to have me pee on you?” “Ew! No!” Big Macintosh relented. He’d been expecting something just as outlandish or worse. “Okay. Okay. What’s your pleasure, then?” She was blushing a flaming red, and pouted, sticking out her lower lip. She looked up at him, sulky. “I want you to come in me. A lot. I would never kick you there, what a horrible idea! And pee, ew, that’s not how my fantasy works!” “It ain’t?” “It most certainly ‘aint’,” sniffed Suru. “I think I’ve heard that idiom, it’s a barbarian pony thing.” She fixed him with a sultry gaze from under half-lidded eyes, and her knees were trembling. “I want you to blow me up like a balloon. With come.” It was Big Macintosh’s turn to pout. He was gazing off into space, a sour expression on his lips, thinking hard. “Y’all forgive me for bein’ cautious about them self-destructive ways of Neighponnese mares…” “To a point, I mean!” squeaked Suru. “Oh my goodness. You… Mister Macintosh, you really think you’re so pent up that you could do me injury? From… from coming TOO much in me?” “Let’s jes’ say I ain’t messin’ around, ma’am,” replied Big Macintosh. “And it ain’t just emptyin’ my nuts, either. Any zebra could outdo me there…” “What are those?” she asked quickly. Big Macintosh stared at her. “I cain’t be responsible for tellin’ you,” he said, “I din’t say nothin’, ain’t no such thing as a Z-word. Never you mind. I mean, I’m a big fella. I reckon with a normal stallion from these parts, it’s gonna squirt out, you know? Ah’m bigger, take up more room. It’s liable to git all corked up an’ under pressure an’… aw horseapples.” She couldn’t even speak, for hyperventilating. “Ah done fucked up, din’t I?” sighed Big Macintosh. Suru sidled forward. Her every step suggested a quivery explosiveness, like her pelvis had melted down into a puddle of willing-mare the instant she’d understood what he said. She kissed him on the nose, and spoke intensely. “I swear I am not irresponsible,” she said. “We must do this, I can’t bear it if we don’t, but we must do it responsibly. I think if I position myself well, I can avoid danger. You are not some pony-shaped Weird Monster out of legend? You are not so swollen and huge that mere penetration would burst me asunder?” “Naw,” said Big Macintosh. “I’m still a pony. Honest.” She bit her lip, anxiously. “You’re very masculine. Can you bear the shame of lying back and allowing me to position myself? That would be wisest. I realize some barbarian ponies, even some Neighponnese, they must be on top as the dominant stallion…” Big Macintosh laughed. “Are ya kidding? Ma’am, I done it every which way you kin imagine. I was about to suggest that.” Her smile appeared, and it was lovely. It grew. “It doesn’t bother you? I’m sure I’ll be all right if you can do that. I think it can still be rewarding. For you, I mean.” “An’ for you?” inquired Big Macintosh, settling back onto her bed. Her legs were shaking worse and worse, and the scent of her mad winking filled the air. She bit her lip again, couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m not sure the word ‘rewarding’ will be enough…” “C’mere,” rumbled Big Macintosh, and eagerly, wobblingly, Suru came. To a point, anyhow: Mac rolled his eyes, thinking he should have seen it coming. He’d settled back onto his back, legs spread, expecting to be mounted by a sex-crazed mare. But he’d forgotten the essential point: she was a testicle-crazed mare, and even as his cock thrust forth and hardened before her, Suru had eyes only for his balls, and ecstatically nuzzled their turgid massiveness, pressing her face against them with croons of delight. “Ah’m up here,” suggested Big Macintosh. “You’re even better down here,” purred Suru, her stubby blunt horn making cozy little arcs in the air as she made love to his balls, licking them and prodding them lovingly with her muzzle. “Heh. You ain’t bad down there yourself,” said Big Macintosh, stiffening further with every lick and caress. “Mmmm…” “But you might wanna be up here before you git too frisky down there,” suggested Big Macintosh. She looked up. Her eyes widened, as she saw what she’d wrought. “Um. Why is that?” “Well, ma’am, Ah am mighty pent up an’ frustrated, and if you get me off from jes’ that there…” Suru squealed in alarm and pulled back, frantic. “Noooo! What must I do, you mustn’t, I have to…” “Shhh,” soothed Big Macintosh, reaching for her. “Ah tole you already, you wouldn’t listen. Come here. I know how this goes.” He made a face. “Y’all made it worse for yourself, though. Ah’m flared up perty good. We kin probably do it anyhoof, specially if you’re brave.” Suru scrambled up to mount him, biting her lip in chagrin. “I’m so foolish… oh, my! Yes you are. Please, if you can at all, please please try to re…” “Way ahead of ya,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah am tryin’ to relax for all I’m worth.” “Fuck,” said Suru, wide-eyed. “What does it look like when you tense? No, wait! Don’t, or I’ll never get on. Fuck. This is intimidating, very intimidating.” “I swear I’ll be gentle with you,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah learned it from… from somepony that I used to know, is who. Don’t wanna talk about it. You just settle back, ma’am, and we can start.” She’d already started: it was a wonder she hadn’t dehydrated completely, for her extreme arousal at nuzzling his balls had left a puddle of mare-juice beneath her. It dripped down the inside of her legs, and when his cock-head touched her vulva, she shuddered and began to pant again… but thankfully, Suru was far too horny to tense up. This posed its own challenges. The wave of desire that rocked her was triggering a reaction too primitive for her stallion-topping position: she painted his flare with lube, but tended to freeze, straddling him expectantly, her body expecting a stallionish thrust and bracing itself stable and motionless as she panted. Big Macintosh, ears perked, began to consider his options for thrusting up into her and solving the problem that way, when… “Gheeeh! hh!” With a filthy squelch, Suru heaved herself back onto him and pushed his hardening flare into herself. “OH! my! love!” she wailed, bearing down and pinching at him. “Are you okay?” pressed Big Macintosh, fighting not to tense or swell himself. She was damned pinchy, and he knew to be careful, knew he should ask. She’d been wet and slippery as anything, but that iron grip she had suggested he’d made a mistake. “Givemeamoment!” she gasped. She bared her teeth, but her mouth didn’t curl down in anguish. There were tears in her eyes, but her face bore a rather frightening grin, showing a different flavor of anguish. He’d seen Rarity do that time after time, and there was no mistaking the shameless wallowing in too-sharp pleasure-pain. There was still the issue of her tension, though. “Yes, ma’am. I got to say, though, judgin’ by your snappin’ pussy, I best stay there. Is that okay? Ah’ll hurt you, ma’am, and that’s a fact. You ain’t big enough for me.” “No, I… hh… nnnghh…” “No?” asked Big Macintosh. “I said, give me a moment,” managed Suru. “There’s something you don’t know about me.” “Whut’s that?” She grinned down at him. “I do exercises. Let me focus. I’ll show you.” Big Macintosh watched, wide-eyed. Suru grimaced, arched her neck, wriggled slightly… and showed him, showed him until his eyes bugged out in shock. Inside her, the fierce tightness began to relax. She’d had it under control, mostly, and now she knit her brow, heaved deep breaths, and forced herself to loosen. With little wriggles of her hips, little jittery flicks of her tail, Suru softened up until the pressure around him was no more than general slippery snugness, the iron band of tension completely gone. He felt himself expand into the new softness, and saw her heart pounding in a vein in her neck: to her, this relaxing was a bold surrender to his potent occupancy of her body, and though she felt the strain of it, it did not dissuade her. That became even more obvious once she’d taken her moment. Once Suru had melted herself upon him, she swished her tail once, twice as she took a breath and let it out… and then, her eyes squeezed tight shut, the little unicorn mare slid back onto his throbbing erection seemingly without ever having to stop, and his bulk smoothly penetrated her. Big Macintosh’s eyes bugged out in shock not so much because of that alone… but because he felt her taut labia juicily slip over and cover his medial ring. Suru liked it incredibly deep. He nervously petted her mane. “Ya okay?” he asked, as his cock throbbed excitedly in its tender confines. Suru looked up at him, her mouth hanging open in awe, her eyes wide and adoring and not quite focussing on him. Big Macintosh booped her gently on the nose. “Is that a yes?” “Uhhh! Eeeh! Oooh! Mmmmh!” He grunted. Suru had come instantly just from his nose-boop, possibly because she was crammed full of Big Macintosh throbbing away, possibly because she’d never had anything like him. When she did, that snapping pussy went into action, and delivered punishingly sharp clenches to his cockbase behind the medial ring. His ears laid back, but he bore it uncomplainingly, thinking to himself that if she wanted to be come in, she’d have to take it down a notch. It felt like she was very capable of pinching him off so that even his mighty testicles couldn’t blast through. Big Macintosh stroked her mane while she came, his eyes roaming over the beauty of her shuddering, quivering form. She sure was a cutie, and seemed awful happy with him. His eyes strayed farther, to all the magic-proof padding surrounding them. He glanced at the floor. Even the carpet was made of the same material. There were cloven hoofprints on her carpet… several different sizes. Big Macintosh glanced back at Suru. Practice: it seemed like this was what she was for? Well then, he’d see if he could do the pretty unicorn even better than the two… no, three… however many Kirin came to ball her and get filled up with unicorn horn-come. Big Macintosh’s ears quirked. Seemed kinda funny to have all that protective stuff, if she was supposed to be squealing and having her horn sucked. Wouldn’t they be able to drink it all? The tiny unicorn could squirt buckets, gushers. Lyra back home was like that, too. Suru, heaving deep breaths, began to subside from her first orgasms, her pussy relaxing around him again. “Ooooh fuck!” “I din’t come yet,” said Big Macintosh. “Ya good?” Her body was sweating, beautifully, giving her a glisteny silvery look. It somehow smelled of her ecstacy, inflamed his desire: so clean and lusty and fresh. As she relaxed around him, the impression he got was of her power and strength, that she revelled in all of this and it fulfilled a need in her so deep that she could barely express it. The look in her eyes gave a mighty good hint of it, though. “No you didn’t,” she confirmed. “I’d know, believe me I’d know. Mmmmm! You look surprised. Does my body surprise you?” “A lil’!” Suru nuzzled his face lovingly. “Deep vestibule, small treasure-chest. I’m just built that way—Neighponnese find me, erm, roomy. I’ve never felt so full in my whole entire life. Are you good? Did I hurt you? I can try not to tense up. I’m very strong inside.” Big Macintosh quirked an ear. “Ah’m fine. I will say one thing, on account of you want me comin’ inside. When the time is right I reckon you best relax, or you’ll pinch me like a dang milkshake straw.” She blinked. “Won’t it still work? I mean, in general terms? I doubt I can pinch tight enough to keep the come out, nor would I wish to.” “No,” said Big Macintosh, “that’s true enough. It’ll git there. All’s I meant was, you might not want it squirtin’ and sprayin’ like it was pinched off.” She licked her lips, her eyelids flickering like a wild sequence of fantasies raced through her brain. “Why would I not want that? It’s everything I desire.” “Because if ya relax all the way,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah’m feeling like my nuts are fixin’ to throw it all at once. Got me a big thingy, an’ a big tube in there, an’ if you DID want to be pumped full of horsecome in one big fat splodge… heh! Heh, heh heh!” He had to laugh for joy, stroking her mane affectionately. Suru’s eyes had widened as she understood what he was suggesting, and by the time he’d reached the word splodge, she was coming with pretty squeals and fierce clenches, popping all her corks at his description alone. Granted, she felt really good on him and he reckoned he felt amazing in her, especially as he got more throbbing and erect, but it was a mighty funny thing that he’d given a mare a spectacular orgasm by saying ‘splodge’ to her. Cuddling her squeaking, spasming form to his chest, Big Macintosh wondered what it would be like randomly saying ‘Splodge!’ to mares on the street. Would any of them have orgasms? Probably not. It just made him feel luckier that he’d found this nice mare. He glanced at the cloven hoofprints on the carpet again. Them Kirin knew when they had a good thing goin’. She subsided again, looking adorably disheveled, her blunted horn glittering. “Oh my!” “Sounds good, huh?” Suru nodded delightedly. “Yes, yes, YES! I’ll do everything I can to help. Oh my! Let’s start, let’s start right away! Don’t let my horn point at you. I… um… hm.” “Somethin’ the matter?” asked Big Macintosh. “Perhaps,” said Suru, frowning a cute little frown and still looking like she’d just woke up from a whole night of happy debauchery. “I… Big Macintosh, how good are you at sensing things? I mean, inside?” “Go on…” She knit her brow. “I assumed I would do all the moving. Sort of ride you, milk you… and I can do that, I know I can, but I’m also sure I would tense up. And that is okay, too, but if you… splodge! hh! mmh! excuse me… If you… THAT, I would need to be so deeply relaxed that I wouldn’t be supporting my own weight.” “Got lots o’ support, darlin’,” rumbled Big Macintosh. “You go right ahead.” “But I mean, I was hoping to do some moving. Nothing so rough, but moving. And then afterwards I would need to scooch forward if you c—came too much in me…” “Easy there, ma’am!” laughed Big Macintosh. “Ah know about that. I kin tug out as needed if things get too pressured in there. Never you fear!” Suru regarded him with astonishment. “Fuck me, you do it that often that you’re USED to it? Seriously? You come so much that you learned THAT?” Big Macintosh blushed. “Aw. Yeah, but it ain’t me bein’ so clever. A very special pony I knew once. That’s who taught me. Ah owe him… a lot, really.” “Are you okay?” “Got somethin’ in m’ eye. Never you mind.” The next thing he knew, he was being kissed very sweetly on the muzzle by Suru, and her heart was in her luminous, loving eyes. “I trust you,” she said. “If you mean it, then I would be delighted to place myself in your care. Make love to me, and fill me with come. This may be the most beautiful moment in my life.” “Aw,” said Big Macintosh, “don’t git carried away. It’s jes’ me down here, is all.” “Shh,” said Suru. “Love me.” She lay her head against his chest, eyes blissfully closed, and flipped her tail a few times, wriggling, trying to relax. She arched her neck prettily, as if she was a cat looking for a nuzzle under the chin, and then Big Macintosh realized it was to point her horn at a nearby magic-resistant pad. He also realized that he’d gone a bit soft inside her, and wiped away a tear, and set his jaw. “For you,” he said, and he didn’t mean Hina. “An’ all I learned.” Tenderly, his hips began to nudge. Suru shivered and let out a breathy cry as the massive, warm presence inside her pussy began to shift. She clenched, then forced herself to relax, and just in time: with the slick magic of marehood around stallionhood sending immediate jolts of sensation into both ponies, Big Macintosh’s huge cock remembered what it was doing in a fearsome hurry. Suru gasped in thrilled shock as his cock swelled every bit as quick as she could relax, seeming to inflate inside her to half again its size until her ears laid back in delighted alarm. Big Macintosh caressed her mane, stroked her ears until they stopped being flattened against her head in fear. All the while, he kept up tender soft motions of his increasingly un-tender phallus, letting it nudge and slip gently inside her even as every contour and bulge became hard and unyielding. Suru’s ears gradually relaxed as Big Macintosh fondled them, until they stood up, quirked to the sides in an expression of awe and disbelief, but showing no strain. That was when Big Macintosh deepened his stroke. Suru licked her lips wildly, her eye twitching. Her horn fizzed and shimmered, a spark of magic springing off it with a dry pop. Hastily, she laid her head against Big Macintosh’s chest so her horn wouldn’t endanger him, and felt his mighty heart pounding much like hers. So controlled, so gentle, but such power! With a little cry, Suru began to orgasm again, fighting not to tense up. Big Macintosh’s stroking grew firmer, and he caressed and stroked her pony body as she lay quiveringly across him in orgasm. He could feel her efforts to not tighten, and his weighty caresses urged her to melt away in his embrace. “Ahh! Aaaahhh… aaaAAAaahhh…” wailed Suru, coming so hard she saw double, melting across the barrel of the mightiest horse she’d ever imagined, and feeling his huge throbbing horsecock thrust deep inside her again and again, never hurrying, never relenting, as he so powerfully caressed and stroked her shuddering body. Big Macintosh gritted his teeth, feeling it build, determined to get it just perfect. Suru vibrated, and for a startling moment saw triple. Her nostrils flared, she heaved deep breaths as her orgasms ramped up in a sudden frenzied escalation and she fought to not clamp down, fought to open herself completely to this wonderful huge horse, and… “ghEEEEh!” As her orgasms hit a new peak of ferocity, a spurt of glittering magic arced from her little hornlet, to splash thickly against the magic-resistant material. “Haaaaaahh!” Another spurt of magic came out of her horn. For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of magic dripping down the wall, and the steady taut slurping of Big Macintosh’s achingly hard cock gently penetrating to Suru’s deepest treasure, over and over and over. And then… “Hnnng!” She’d been exhaling. Her eyes flew wide, but she didn’t have breath to scream. Instead, she saw quadruple, quintuple, just a nonsense of meaningless shapes, as a tidal wave of semen gushed through the horsecock that transfixed her, catching her at a relaxed moment when she’d been most open and receptive, and the stallionhood shoved firmly up against her cervix, and hot spunk crammed in all at once to fill her palpably, more than she’d even imagined was possible. Suru’s horn seemed to explode with magic, blasting off the protective padding and ricocheting across other padding to fill the room with light. Big Macintosh, wild-eyed, watched the fireworks. There seemed to be enough room that it wasn’t hitting him or splashing over him. He held Suru close, though she seemed stunned into total limpness with only her horngasm showing her reaction. No, not quite: she’d managed to relax, but he could feel her body thundering away like a storm was inside. She didn’t struggle or cry out, but the orgasms churned her to a puddle and that horn was still going like it’d never stop. He gritted his teeth, and his balls convulsed and fired another thick, sticky load of horsecome into Suru. She writhed weakly, and her horngasm in turn thickened and grew brighter, impossibly brighter, accompanied by a burning smell. Big Macintosh decided he’d have to trust that her room could stand it, and that nothing too important was on fire. He quickly gauged the feelings of pressure against his throbbing cock, and pulled back half an inch until he felt less solidness against the front face of his flare. As he did, Suru’s brain returned from total and complete white-out. Between the time his second load pumped into her, and the time he’d pulled back, she had gone to heaven and hell at the same time, a shatteringly intense climax where she couldn’t even think. There was just the orgasm rampaging merrily through her body, and down in her vagina, the mighty throb of Big Macintosh’s huge erection and the huge pool of horsecome that literally stuffed her, filled her every crevice until she felt every nerve squealing at once, inflated her until the mass of semen felt like a solid object that made her womb some kind of casting, a statue… or, rather, her uterus and tubes and such all painted over such a statue, so tight and hard she couldn’t even breathe, could only come her tail off and gush magic from her horn. Relieved of that pressure, Suru heaved huge, frantic breaths. “Haaaaaaahhh! haaaaaahh!” “Y’ okay?” panted Big Macintosh. She gazed up at him, drenched in sweat, as if he’d become some monster or deity. She licked her lips, an ear twitching. Her lips kept curling up into dazed smiles, and going blank in awe again. Big Macintosh scritched her ear, and smiled. “Hey, Braeburn, Ah think she liked it…” Suru’s eyes were so wide. “Who?” she panted. “Never you mind. I honored that name. Again, you okay? Feelin’ happy?” “Oh, my!” managed Suru. “It… you… yes! So good, so good…” She felt charred, stunned, quivering in some utterly vulnerable state, and it felt better than anything ever had in her whole life. “Tired?” asked Big Macintosh playfully. “What?” panted Suru. He nudged with his hips, just a little. Suru’s eyes flew wide, and her horn erupted in light once more, blindingly. His careful little nudge had been transmitted through the sea of horsecome inside her, and everywhere she’d been inflated on a tide of warm spunk, not painfully but just to the point where her breath was taken away. It was like the blinding white universe of total orgasm that she’d been burning in while his second volley pumped her full, had receded when he’d withdrawn. And then, unexpectedly, with just a little nudge, Suru felt herself yanked up like some carnival ride and physically plunged into that world of blinding orgasm, and then back out to the real world and the blurry image of a titanic red stallion upon which she straddled. She gawked at him, uncomprehending. As she became able to focus, she saw how amused and pleased he was. His smile was like a colt on Hearth’s Warming Morning. It hadn’t hurt, not exactly hurt. Even her womb didn’t hurt. Now that she thought about it, now that the crushing intensity of sexual ultimate peak had receded again, she could feel herself, and in awe she felt the truth: she was utterly relaxed, being fondled openly by an amazingly sexy stallion, and his hard-on was persisting so well that it still walled up an ocean of spunk. And that ocean felt warm and cozy and glowing inside her womb’s every crevice, but all the same, it was an incredibly vulnerable feeling because he only had to nudge and she could feel she would just explode in orgasm, helpless to do anything else until the tender pressure relented. It was her deepest fetish, on a scale she’d not even imagined. “This is where you might do th’ thing,” suggested Big Macintosh, and his voice rumbled through her limp body and gave her another orgasm, and she tried to meet his eyes and talk coherently. “What thing?” she managed. “Y’know, what the DJ do. So they say. Ya showed me.” “Wuh?” sighed Suru, feeling like she was melting into sex candy. Big Macintosh scratched his head with a free hoof. “Ah kin keep doing that, real gentle-like, but Ah will flag. I jes’ thought since you got the snappin’ pussy and all, you can be your own cock ring an’ it will help me go longer. Or not if ya don’t want. You look happy.” Suru, dazed, looked up at him, feebly knitting her brow as she made sense of his words through the waves of inexorable pleasure that flooded her. “If… I tense… you can do it again?” she managed. She felt his erection, still remarkably vast, plunged deeply up her and resting quietly. “Ma’am, Ah’m honored.” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. With an adorable little scrunchy-face of effort, his little unicorn mare was bearing down harder and harder on him, and his cock stiffened inside her as she clamped around it in grim earnest. His jaw dropped, politely, as Suru made her intentions clear. “Dang,” he said. “That would be a yes. Poss’bly a please. All righty, ma’am, it’s my pleasure. How long would you like to ride into th’ sunset?” Suru gazed blearily up at him, face wreathed in quivery smiles. “Forever!” she sighed, and then she carefully nestled her head against his chest, so her horn pointed at the wall, and melted into his embrace… all of her, except where her pussy locked down behind his medial ring like it’d never let go. “That’s a long time, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh. “Until I release you,” she said, muffled against his chestfur. She pinched at him happily, to demonstrate what she meant. “Who knew there was a Wild West in Neighpon?” marvelled Big Macintosh. “Whut?” mumbled Suru, dazedly. “Never you mind,” he said. “Hold on. Here it comes.” He tenderly nudged into her again, and her mind exploded in pleasure as her horn erupted in horngasm, and there were no further questions to be had. Big Macintosh lay, blissed out, stroking the back of his quivering lover, his eyes contentedly closed. It was partly due to pleasure, and partly because Suru’s orgasms hurt his eyes after a while. It was awe-inspiring, really. She just wouldn’t let up. And since her natural gifts included a vagina with extraordinary gripping power, she was quite capable of trapping his cock and keeping it hard, so long as she didn’t relent. His only option was to tenderly make love to her until she was so exhausted that she had to let go. And this, Suru seemed determined not to do. His cock felt inflamed, real sensitive, but that was okay: no doubt so did she, and it helped him keep everything so very gentle and tender. They were both exhausted. It’d been… hours? A long time, an impossibly long time, but a time spent floating in sensual ecstacy. He’d fondle his unicorn lover. She’d quiver, maybe wriggle, she’d long since become unable to move a hoof but she still hung onto him determinedly, unwilling for the ecstacy to end. Sometimes she’d relax for a moment, and then wriggle and tense her pussy up once more. And on those lovely pony lips, on the cute little muzzle, he’d see her feebly mouthing the word, ‘again!’. And with the utmost tenderhearted caution, since at this point it jolted the both of them, Big Macintosh would nudge his hips forward, and cuddle his unicorn mare to him as she wordlessly gushed a blinding blast of horngasm at the wall. There must have been some object in the room that hadn’t survived their lovemaking, for he continued to smell burning but saw no fire. He’d asked if it was okay, checked with Suru, and she’d lifted her head with the last of her strength not reserved for cock-ring duties and told him everything was okay and never to stop, ever. And so, Big Macintosh, his eyes closed against the glare, tenderly pressed upwards into Suru and felt her shudder in pleasure, her physical orgasms so exhausted by now that she could only quiver bonelessly… and the one bone they had left between them—the stallion-bone kept erect by Suru’s intense dedication and constriction—pressed deeper into her molten vagina, and compressed the sea of warm horsecome, and pressed outward against all her female-bits at once, and as she let out a feeble croak of joy the horngasm burst forth as she vented still more magic. At one point, he’d tried rocking his hips gently into her so that the sensation became a continuing thing: not just a pressure, but tenderly balling both her and the reservoir of come, at once. That was when he’d learned to shut his eyes against the glare. It had also been where her voice gave out, and when he thought he’d had her. He’d gone for a couple minutes that way, amazed at her stamina, and in no more than a couple minutes Suru’s pussy had unclenched in sheer exhaustion, overwhelmed by the intensity of the unending orgasm. Then, as he began to withdraw, somehow impossibly she’d grabbed him. She’d clenched onto him with what remained of her strength, and he could only see her eyes in the dimness of the room: her horngasm had taken out a light fixture, though it didn’t seem to worry her. “…gentler…” she’d croaked, and hung on, waiting. Big Macintosh had bowed his head, snuggled her, closed his eyes, and proceeded to do just that as long as he had strength to do it. He heard some kind of noise outside, but surely that was normal on a nice cool Neighpon evening. He felt Suru wriggle feebly against him, and in the nonverbal harmony they shared, he ever-so-tenderly nudged upward into her for what seemed the thousandth time. She tensed as the horngasm burst forth, blinding against his closed eyelids… Shouting. There was shouting outside. Big Macintosh opened his eyes, and saw that Suru’s horngasm had blasted a hole in the wall when he wasn’t looking. It was her exhausted stillness that had done it: she’d been aiming at the same spot, her horn had been pointing unwaveringly at just one point. Big Macintosh’s eyes returned from the hole in the wall, through which horngasm gushed to outdoors, back to its source… With a spray of sparks and that burning smell, the last shreds of Suru’s horn burned away, and there was no more horngasm. He froze, his mare wrapped in his forelegs, staring. It was a worrying little crater in her head. He was sure he’d heard somepony talking about how that was bad for a unicorn: how if you burned their horn up, they died. But Suru wasn’t dead: as the last sparks settled to the floor, she stirred, at first tensing her pussy onto him as she’d been doing, and then nuzzling against his chest as if waking from a long, wearying dream. She looked up at him, her eyes dazed, questioning. That cute little tongue came out again, licked her lips. The sound of hooves trotting through the house, coming nearer. A magic glow lifted the latch, the special unicorns-only door-fastening that had secured Suru’s inner sanctum from intrusion. A very worried-looking Kirin came in and stopped, staring at Suru and Big Macintosh just as Suru finally relaxed her grip. Alarmed, Big Macintosh tugged his sore and throbbing erection out of her, and an ocean of horsecome poured out of Suru. She shuddered and cried out a lewd little cry as her pussy was vacated, and then sagged across Big Macintosh’s barrel, indecently satiated. “Aw, horseapples,” moaned Big Macintosh, unable to get up while she sprawled across him. “Jes’ tell me how much trouble Ah’m in.” At this, Suru twitched. She squirmed weakly, then managed to lift her head. “What do you mean?” she asked. Behind her, the Kirin spoke. “There’s no trouble, Mister Horse. We know our Suru, of course. Don’t assume that other mares prefer this fate… but our Suru will be fine, I’m sure it’s not too l…” He trailed off, shocked. As he spoke, Suru had turned to face him, as if she’d been caught by some parent or authority. It broke Big Macintosh’s heart to see her face slip from deep waves of joy and bliss, to guilt and resentment. Something was wrong… but by the reaction of the Kirin, the horror in his eyes, something else was even wronger. The Kirin rushed forward, to his side. In the glow of that curious horn, Big Macintosh’s and Suru’s faces were illuminated. The Kirin had eyes only for what remained of Suru’s horn, and as Suru’s eyes went wide in alarm, the Kirin’s horn flamed to brilliance and formed a magical tendril that reached forward delicately to where her horn had been… She jolted in Big Macintosh’s embrace, with a cry of pain, and the magical tendril flicked off instantly. Her eyes were so wide, as she glanced between Big Macintosh and the Kirin. She lifted a hoof to her head, wincing, and the Kirin watched as if this was itself a horrifying thing. And she looked back at him, an intense and mysterious gaze that he couldn’t break from… and Big Macintosh saw a quavery smile begin to come to her lips. “It IS too late,” she said gently, to the Kirin. He shook his head, dismayed, appalled. The smile grew. “I’m sorry.” “But…” said the Kirin. “There are others,” said Suru gently. That smile glowed. Big Macintosh felt her whole body relaxing… and then she’d tucked her head under his chin, nuzzling up to him, that little burned crater right up against his throat, and she melted against her barbarian lover, still smiling. The Kirin ran madly back through the house and outside, terror in his eyes, and then Big Macintosh heard his hooves hitting the roof, climbing until the freaked-out Kirin stood on the highest point… and the sound of a magical discharge, like something sending off a desperate beacon, was heard. “Am too, in trouble,” said Big Macintosh. Suru lifted her head, and kissed him full on the lips. She seemed unable to stop smiling. “No, you’re not.” “Am too!” The Kirin clattered back inside, his cloven hoofprints mingling with the others on the carpet. “I’ve sent for Daiyam!” “Won’t help,” said Suru gently. “I’m so sorry.” “No, you’re not!” wailed the Kirin. Suru shut her mouth. She looked faintly shocked. She glanced at Big Macintosh, then back at the frantic Kirin. “It’s true,” she said. “You’re right. I’m not. But… but I’m a little bit sorry about not being sorry? Does that help, Gimu?” Before he could answer, there was a sound from outside, like some pony splitting the sky with speed and urgency, and it whooshed right up close and then stopped. All doors in the house flew open in a glow of magic, and into the room charged a noble old Kirin, even his rescue-charge a thing of grace and poetry. “Where is the…” he began, and then even he trailed off. Gimu, the younger Kirin, began to blush. Daiyam, for it was he, walked up to look at Big Macintosh and Suru. He refrained from stepping in the large puddle of horse semen, but didn’t flinch from their obvious post-coital sweaty disheveledness. He stepped all around the bed, looking under it, on the floor, searching the room. Having done this, he turned to the younger Kirin. “‘Death and loss and woe’. That is why you brought me here. Have you not made a mistake, dear young Gimu?” Gimu, the younger Kirin, gulped. “Be kind!” implored Suru. “Don’t punish him!” Daiyam glanced at her, those ageless eyes holding hers. “Have no fear.” “Gimu’s frightened!” protested Suru, her eyes glistening. Hearing this, the old Kirin walked over to her, even stepping in the puddle of spooge on his way, as if it had become beneath his notice. He gazed into her eyes, bent, and he kissed her forehead… where her horn had been. “Have no fear,” he repeated. “All is lost!” wailed Gimu, the younger Kirin. “And yes, I have fear!” Big Macintosh and Suru both flinched. In a single move, old Daiyam had whirled to confront the younger Kirin, and his mane and tail flared brightly, and the anger in his eyes was as terrible as his usual peace was wonderful. “And THAT,” roared the elder Kirin, “is the harm you’ve caused!” They stared, frozen, while Daiyam faced Gimu down. Then, slowly, Gimu knelt, abasing himself before the old Kirin, pressing his chest to the carpet. He, at least, still took pains to avoid the puddle of spooge. “Teach me, my teacher,” said Gimi, trembling. Daiyam took a deep breath, calming himself. Big Macintosh and Suru watched, far too intimidated to say anything. Gimi remained abased, and listened intently. “I cannot heal this,” said Daiyam. “No trace of horn has she left. But I would not do so, even if I could. I’ve seen this before.” Gimu stirred, but didn’t speak. Daiyam continued. “Five thousand years in the past, there was a Kirin who wanted to be safe. A Kirin like you,” intoned Daiyam. “Five thousand years in the past, there was a pony like this. Her gifts were special.” He paused in his recitation, but Gimu didn’t look up. “And five thousand years ago,” continued Daiyam, “that Kirin arranged for his peers to drink deep. He meant only well. Certain he was that the Kirin would prevail.” “Prevail against what?” asked Suru in a tiny voice. Her eyes were still tearful, and she gazed worriedly at Gimu, who still stared at the floor. Daiyam turned, and his eyes were soft and sad as they met hers. “Nothing, child.” He continued. “Five thousand years in the past, that Kirin protected from what had not happened yet. From what might never happen. That Kirin cherished the unicorn mare that fueled him. Surely he could keep all ponies from harm, in this way.” Gimu sobbed, quietly, and did not look up. Daiyam continued, more and more solemnly. “That Kirin built a world around his mare friend. She could power an army. On her withers rested the future of all Neighpon.” He bowed his head. “He let her know that,” said Daiyam. “He thought she’d be proud.” Suru was crying now, but she didn’t stop him. “And one day,” said Daiyam gravely, “he rushed to the scene. She had been injured. But it was not as he thought. Five thousand years in the past, ponies were more fierce. She had burned off her poor horn… but she’d smashed it first. Mere fragments remained.” Both Suru and Gimu gasped, shocked. Daiyam stared them down, and they returned to listening. “In his madness, the Kirin wanted to fix her horn,” said Daiyam. “The mare, no longer a unicorn, refused. She loved him. But she could not carry the weight of all of Neighpon.” He bowed his head again. After a moment, Suru asked, “What happened to her?” “The mare died,” said Daiyam. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Now jes’ an apple-pickin’ minute!” Daiyam’s eyes silenced him. “Of old age,” he explained. “Still loved by Kirin. But as just a mare. Not as a weapon.” Gimu sobbed, again. “Do you understand,” said Daiyam, “what I have told you?” Gimu remained abased. He looked at the floor, and he said, “You may destroy me. I am just as bad.” “You have understood nothing,” said Daiyam, sadly. “Did you not destroy that evil, cruel Kirin?” “Look at me,” said Daiyam. Gimu’s chin lifted, to be met halfway by a kiss on top of his muzzle. It was the elder Kirin. Daiyam was weeping, smiling, forgiving. His eyes were pools of love and acceptance, though still with a hint of authority that said: this is how things shall be. Gimu stared, unable to understand. “I was that Kirin,” said Daiyam. “Ah still feel like I ought to be gallopin’ out of town as fast as I kin,” said Big Macintosh. Suru snuggled closer. Now that she had no horn, she seemed to like nothing better than spooning with him and tucking her head under his chin. “You mustn’t!” she said. “You said the cello-playing mare would be cross if you did that twice in a row. And what if she, or the record-playing mare, were doing like you and sleeping with townsponies?” “You shouldn’t call her that,” said Big Macintosh. “She’s a DJ, seems like that’s more than jes’ a record-playing mare. Anyhoof, they ain’t. Least, Vinyl does it rarely and frets about it when she do, and I ain’t seen Octavia with townsponies even once. Which is kinda funny, back home she’s more adventurous.” “You’re adventurous,” crooned Suru, nuzzling under his chin. “Too dang adventurous,” grumbled Big Macintosh. “What’s bothering you?” asked Suru. She turned to look at him. He frowned. “Ah hurt them.” “Who?” “Them Kirin. All’s I wanted was to get practice, uh, milkin’ unicorns, an’ look what happened. Ah bet they hate me now.” Suru pouted. Then she bopped him on the nose with a hoof. “Ow!” The blow was immediately followed by a kiss, and then she turned around and snuggled up again. Big Macintosh shook his head, astonished. “What th’ HAY was that for? Mixed messages, ma’am?” Suru sighed. “Shame on you, huge sexy horse. Unicorns are people, not things. I understood everything Daiyam had to teach us, because he was telling my story. Poor Gimu! I don’t hate him, but it was just like that. Look at this room! I’m just a little pony, it was scary to have so much responsibility, to feed so many. You were seeing things like Gimu saw them. You were milking unicorns for magic and found a special one and milked her dry, just because you could.” Big Macintosh was speechless for a moment. “So why did you kiss me?” he said. “Because you did. You set me free,” said Suru, snuggling back against him. “Now I’m just me. I don’t have to be anything else.” “Gimu prob’ly hates me now,” said Big Macintosh. “Daiyam doesn’t,” said Suru. “And I don’t.” Even hours after Suru had cuddled up and gone to sleep, dreaming blissfully of her freedom and future as a simple earth pony, Big Macintosh still lay awake trying to make sense of it all. He could have fed Hina for years, decades on what he’d got out of Suru while he used her up. Assuming she didn’t choke on all that raw magic, he could have gone all the way, stuffing any imaginable Kirin with magic and giving Suru the boon she wanted, by burning her horn entirely away through her own discharges. He could have done all that with Hina, and in some ways it was exactly what he'd set out to prove. But for the life of him, he couldn’t work out whether Hina would have made him stop. Turn The PageVinyl Scratch wriggled and stretched, in the sunbeam. He drew her closer without waking, and the sensation flipped her heart… or, perhaps, jounced it? Penetrated it? He’d been doing that, though not with her heart. But all the same, something had happened. Perhaps it was all the stress? Something about his steadfast, nurturing presence, the earnest way he enjoyed her… no, that wasn’t even the word. Michian had enjoyed her. He’d enjoyed her a little too much, too deeply, and he’d been shamed by his needs. Rebelliously, Vinyl thought to herself: he should go to Ponyville, or Canterlot. Have unicorn foals. Life was too damn short. It burst out like an overwound clock, sproinging in every direction, alarming and unmanageable until it led, unaccountably… Here. Here, in Hasu’s dreaming embrace. Here, where she need have never left: a skein of reality where she'd thought it but a thread. Only a strand had led back to the life she’d known, as her world tangled and snarled… and then, in one touch, the thread from her past turned to a fluffy skein of warmth, and she drew it around her and found it good. Birds chirped obliviously, in the trees outside. It was rainy, just a drizzle illuminated by mid-morning. Vinyl Scratch smiled at it. Everything was a little softer, a little quieter in Shido: Shido, in the Nairiku-bu province, where she came from. Home. Vinyl wriggled again, gently. Hasu held her in his dreams, and snored a bit, and this too amused her. But in addition to that, there was something else: soft, quiet, but it probably wouldn’t stay that way for too long. His stifle, or possibly his gaskin, or at least somewhere on the front of his leg… pressed cozily between her own butt-cheeks. Without knowing it, he was giving her pussy a morning massage with every lazy shift of position. Without forcing it, Vinyl was winking wetly against his tenderly nuzzling thigh, and the scent was having its inevitable effect: Hasu’s horsecock was sneaking out to join her. She frowned a cute little frown. It was tempting to see how hard he could get him in his dream, but she’d have to scooch forward and deprive herself of the pleasure of his cozy thigh. But if she didn’t, the increasing squishing of his equine hose would lead him to… He did. Hasu woke, with a snort and a whinny and a shove against her treasure, and Vinyl moaned happily at the firm contact and winked against his stifle again. “Ermf… hrrf… buh?” Vinyl answered him with a kiss, and his dazed eyes flew wide in amazement. “Errrrrr mmmmm Gmmmmmmd…” “Oh, I’m sorry,” teased Vinyl, “did you need to use that mouth for something that wasn’t kissing me?” He blinked, licking his lips, looking stunned. “Oh my GAAWWWWD, it wasn’t a dream.” “It’s called life, sweetie,” cooed Vinyl. “Love it.” He kept blinking and looking astonished, until Vinyl pouted and said, “Well, if you don’t love it, I promise you I totally do!” “No! No no, I mean, what I’m saying is yes I do certainly love it, um I would think that was self-evident, if this isn’t convenient for you this early in the morning I can go run a few laps around the house, I don’t mind if it’s raining, it’s not much more than a drizzle…” Vinyl’s eyes flew wide. “Oh no!” “Maybe you don’t like the rain as much as you used to? We used to hang out indoors reading sometimes when it was drizzly like this. You know Shido’s half grass and half drizzle…” “That’s not what I meant, silly!” she squeaked, her ruby eyes wide and startled. “I still miss the Shido drizzle! It’s so peaceful, this is a wonderful morning!” “Then what did you mean?” Vinyl’s lovely, shades-less eyes went from startled to sultry in two seconds flat. “Please don’t leave. And definitely don’t run a few laps, ‘k? I have a better idea.” “So you do,” observed Hasu, dryly. Vinyl wriggled against his gaskin, wetly. Hasu curled his lip in delight, savoring the presence and scents of her. “So don’t go anywhere,” added Vinyl. “Anywhere?” teased Hasu, kneading her vulva with his knee and the front of his thigh. “Nnngh!” panted Vinyl. “Okay, you got me. One place. You might be able to find it. It’s not far.” “Best place,” rumbled Hasu, fondly. “On best pony.” “Mmmmm…” From then on, they spoke with touches, so comfortable with each other that no words were needed. Hasu fondled Vinyl until she squirmed and panted for breath, arching her neck against his, fevered with marely eagerness. He clopped himself until he was stiff, scooched back, aimed, and poked his delighted flare into her… with a gasp of his own, for playful Vinyl tensed herself and confronted him with a taut, slippery nook that reminded him of their shared youth. And then she relaxed, because the fucking they’d done the previous night had let him explain: he didn’t want her to give him a performance, he wanted to make love like she’d never left. Vinyl had a profoundly practiced pussy and a technique groomed in Fillydelphia, but it didn’t matter at all. The love he had for her extended back to earlier days, when she was not much more than an eager filly befriending the neighborhood bookworm, and trading discovery for discovery. Hasu snuggled her in perfect happiness, tenderly thrusting his decent horsecock within her eager, quivering folds. Vinyl gasped and let out a moan… it was a curious thing, a very pleasing curious thing he was trading her now. After years of giddy debauchery, she’d come home, and after years of sexual showoffery, somehow good old Hasu brought a special thing. It wasn’t the size or specialties of his horsecock, though that was perfectly adequate: somehow, the extent to which she’d opened herself to him, the way she’d returned to her hometown and his embrace, had liberated her. She didn’t feel brazen, or cheap, or too jaded. She’d forgotten where she left her glasses, her stupid glasses. He didn’t need them. He totally, totally didn’t need them. She was Vinyl from up the street, the filly with a head full of dreams, and she’d been taking him so for granted way back then. She shuddered, and her vision blurred for a moment as his cock continued to explore her body, freely and with the same kind of eagerness he’d had long ago. Hasu somehow knew how to stretch it, because he was loving having his dick in a vagina far too much to hurry… but, on top of that, he also loved her. It was a heady, intoxicating blend. He cuddled her to him lovingly, but with an excitement that showed he wasn’t intimidated, and thrust went the horsecock right up to rattle her gates, and then it was thrusting more shallowly, and it was just so damn thrilling to be with your best friend and still be playing these new games, both of you letting the excitement take over, both of you building it just to see how high up into the faintly drizzly Shido skies you could soar… “Ngg! Hhhh! Errnnnhh! Uhh!” Just like old times, lusty Vinyl came first, and Hasu redoubled his fondling, his eyes shining with exaltation. Just like old times, he bit his lip tenderly, and his gaze unfocussed: trying on the one hoof to remember every sweet detail, and on the other hoof, to keep it going because he loved his mare dearly and loved seeing her like this. “Ahhh!” moaned Vinyl, her face reddening as she arched her neck to gaze back at him in delighted awe. It always seemed astonishing that Hasu’s cock felt so incomparable at such moments, still did years later after she’d had all manner of horse dick, sometimes three at a time. Vinyl’s chest reddened as well, and her ears went flaming red, and her jaw dangled as her body gave in to serious, protracted orgasm like it wasn’t going to be done for quite a while. Hasu drank her in, worshipping her with steady, firm, deep thrusts, sinking into the look in her eyes and letting his energies build. He grinned a slightly feral grin, and his eyes crinkled up. He always did. It pleased him to bring Vinyl to this state: in a long and comfortable life, there hadn’t been any moments to compare with these treasured memories of Vinyl Scratch, her mind melting with delicious orgasm, pressed lovingly against him as he worked an increasingly hard and throbbing cock inside her, undaunted by her joyous shrieks and fierce clenches. This time, his ears laid back a little, because prodigal Vinyl returning home boasted a horsepussy that could dent a cock of stone. It only made him grin harder. She was so wet and slippery that he didn’t even slow his stroke. Until… as he felt his own climax approach, he bowed his head reverently, and he did slow his stroke. Not completely, but he arched his own neck, and as Vinyl’s eyes widened, Hasu dragged out his own last moments as long… as… he… possibly… could… “Eeeeh!” Vinyl’s eyes went wide and shocked. And, as Hasu gazed lovingly into them, Vinyl Scratch shook like a little pony leaf… and a tiny squirt of magic arced thinly out of her horn, to dissipate across the floor. Then another, that didn’t even reach the ground… and then she was hyperventilating, eyes so wide, totally vulnerable. Hasu’s gaze adored her, and then without hesitation he thrust deep and clung to his dear lost Vinyl Scratch and held her so tight, and she clung to him with desperate force, her heart pounding… and Hasu came, in a series of spurts and foolish grunts and whinnies, buried inside his overwhelmed mare, pressed against her as she hung onto him. “Oh! Hasu! Ohh! Oh! Holdme! Oh! Hasu, hold me don’t let go holdme!” “I’m here!” he panted, not unhugging for a moment. “I’m nnh! here!” “Oh! Uh! Unnh! Uhh! Oh!” “I’m here! Oh, Vinyl!” “Uhh! Hhhh!” Gradually, they shuddered and spasmed to a halt, both panting for air, Vinyl’s face and ears and chest scarlet. She seemed unable to get the shocked look out of her eyes, trapped staring wildly into Hasu’s until she blinked and glanced in alarm at the floor where her horngasm had gone. There was no damage, nothing at all. Vinyl blushed even redder. “I don’t usually…” “I know,” soothed Hasu. Vinyl gulped, feeling wrung out, panting. “I mean… maybe I shoulda done even more when you came, but I…” “I know,” soothed Hasu, earnestly. “Oh my gosh Hasu,” managed Vinyl. “I… I…” Hasu swallowed as well, his mane lank with sweat. “Vinyl.” “Uh-huh?” she squeaked, fillyishly. “I’m getting soft but I’m still in there. Do you need me to stay for a moment?” Vinyl Scratch’s expression was utter astonishment, and then her eyes filled with tears and she just nodded, overcome, unable to speak. Hasu set his jaw, scooched his hips forward, and pushed his wobbly weiner as deeply into Vinyl as he could and held her tight, wrapping her in his forelegs and nearly his hindlegs as well, shielding her in an embrace that was both strong stallion limbs and squishy stallion wilting-boner. All he had, he gave to Vinyl, and she shivered and gave a quiet sob and wept, clinging to what was left of his erection with all her force, nuzzling back against his solicitous nuzzles and licks. He was repressing a grin. She sniffled, and said, “What?” “Salty,” replied her saucy lover. “Delicious, in fact.” “Whose fault is that?” grumped Vinyl, smiling tearfully at him. “Guilty,” he said, and beamed lovingly at her. She made a face. “Sorry. I… you know.” “Yeah, I remember,” said Hasu. “Listen. Vinyl. You’re okay.” Her lip quivered, and she pouted. “Yeah, for an earth pony mayb…” “No, Vinyl, listen.” She teared up again. “I’m sorry! That’s not nice to say. I’m so embarrassed I did that but, but, I totally couldn’t help it…” “Vinyl! You’re okay. This is what I never got to tell you. All those years ago, and I never got to say it, and oh my GAWWWD will ya shut up and listen you silly filly? I’m sorry, I mean… Seriously, Vinyl!” He had her full attention. The wide, tearful eyes were drinking him in. Hasu continued. “You’re okay, just the way you are. It doesn’t matter, it never did. You’re Vinyl! You’re the kid down the street, and my best friend growing up, and then so much more… and I rejoiced with you the day the… you know. But I worried, because I knew, or I thought I did. I thought maybe I was just awful, you know? And then it was the bad time, and you were so upset and it wasn’t even a week before you had run away to foreign lands…” Vinyl couldn’t speak. She just clung to him, weeping cleansing tears, listening to his gentle words. “And I never could tell you,” said Hasu, “and I told myself it didn’t matter that much. I can’t be angry with, you know, him. He tried, I’m sure. He moved away, you know, though he still visits sometimes. Listen, Vinyl. I love you, and you’re all the Vinyl I ever needed, then and now. Maybe you can take it from me if that helps any. You’re Vinyl, and you’re enough, and you’re okay.” She trembled in his embrace, and then twisted her neck and kissed him fervently and he kissed back and that was everything in the world, for a little time: time for worlds to begin and end, time for eternity, time for grace. They parted, and Vinyl’s eyes were glowing, and she quipped, “If I can’t take it from you, why am I so fuckin’ wobbly?” “Guilty,” smiled Hasu. Then, Vinyl’s cocky little grin eroded. “Hasu?” “Yeah?” “Hasuuu?” “I’m here, Vinyl. In fact… rrrrff! I’m in there, too.” The moderate tensing of a flaccid penis didn’t seem to distract her. Instead, Vinyl gazed at him in great seriousness, her lip quivering. “I… I was gonna be all bold an’ naughty, Hasu, and I was gonna say… I think I’ll keep you.” Hasu nodded, solemnly. “Do ya love me?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Cos I love you somethin’ hardcore.” “I’ll always love you,” said Hasu. “W… will ya keep me?” asked Vinyl Scratch. Hasu’s eyes sank into hers, and she gave herself up to them. She didn’t rush him. Even back in the old days, Hasu had been the sensible one, and she’d been the hothead, impulsive and mercurial. Now, she yielded herself to the wisdom she knew he had, and she let him ponder it. “As long as you want me to,” said Hasu. “It looks like that means ‘yes’.” Vinyl’s eyes flooded with tears, and she relaxed back into his embrace. “No, seriously, let me,” said Vinyl. “No fair! I’m like your wife or something, you gotta let me make you breakfast!” “Did you ever cook breakfast before, Vinyl?” asked Hasu. “Nooooo… not exactly COOK… but I can learn…” “What do you eat in the morning, Vinyl?” “Sugared alfalfa bars,” said Vinyl. “Ya know, for energy! Unless… yeah, unless anypony else cooks for me.” She pouted. “Can you even stand up, Vinyl?” teased Hasu. “Yeah, like you’re real steady on your hooves!” retorted Scratch. “Come kiss me again.” He did, solemnly, his eyes dancing with pleasure. “Seconds?” “Not until I’ve cooked breakfast!” protested Hasu, her happily hapless horsebando. “Vinylll! Oh my GAWWWD!” “Oh all right,” said Vinyl. “Whatcha making?” “Don’t you even recognize it? Haycakes.” Vinyl made a face. “Hmph. Just like… yeah, that’s okay actually. You are forgiven. Eeeee, Hasu! I’m gonna get up, watch.” She heaved herself out of bed and splatted bonelessly onto the floor like a liquified mare. “Technically, I think that’s more the definition of ‘down’…” observed Hasu. Vinyl cackled. “Yeah but watch this. In Fillydelphia the unicorns dance in this way, and there’s a move they use. I taught it to some little kids once and they won a dance-off with it… the white one, really, the orange one was a pegasus and she was all popping and locking.” “Sounds messy! And I hope someone unlocked you all and let you back out,” said Hasu. Vinyl snickered. “Watch.” She heaved herself up, and got one hoof after another under her center of gravity. Then, she shimmied her hooves in place and stabilized herself, and lifted her head to beam at him. “Tadah!” “I’ll blow on you,” suggested Hasu. “You’ll fall right over.” “Nuh-uh,” insisted Vinyl. “Watch.” She frowned in concentration, and began to rhythmically flick her tail. Then, tap a rear hoof. Then, she bobbed her head, and began to sing ‘oontz, oontz, oontz’ to herself… and as she did, she strutted feebly forward and plunked herself into a chair at the table. “Told ya!” “Wow,” said Hasu, smiling. “What’s the trick?” “I got the music,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Even if I don’t have my phones, if I think it, I can do anything.” “Including eat haycakes?” “Especially eat haycakes!” proclaimed Vinyl, and the two fell upon breakfast like they’d not eaten for days. “I haven’t seen your bookstore for… well, seriously, Hasu, it wasn’t even your bookstore back when I lived here!” cried Vinyl. Hasu trotted wearily along. The drizzle had stopped, and they’d bathed in a stream. Vinyl had gone back to the house to grab her shades. She wasn’t wearing them in the usual way, but she explained, “If it does start to rain again, it’s great, I can gallop right into the rain and not have to blink or anything!” Their progress was interspersed by nuzzling, and a certain amount of staggering. “It is your bookstore now? Ya bought it? From… what was her name?” “Hokori,” said Hasu. “You remember.” “Nah,” said Vinyl. “She was so old, and you know, books. But now I love them! I can totally pick up a book with my horn even if it’s kinda heavy, maybe not super duper heavy, but I can still do it. I can be helpful. And I won’t even worry about it. Like, maybe for me that’s what my magic is for. Picking up little things… and for you.” She nuzzled his neck, with her horn. “Oh, Vinyl,” said Hasu, indulgently. “You can just decorate my bookstore, my beautiful Vinyl.” “Yeah, yeahyeah!” said Vinyl. She pranced for a moment, then staggered and caught herself. “Woahh! I could keep you amused. You know, when it gets boring.” “It’s not boring,” said Hasu. “New books come, from all over Neighpon. Farther, even. It’s a beautiful life, everything I wanted.” “Everything?” teased Vinyl. “Almost everything,” chuckled Hasu. “I could decorate it with streamers and stuff! There’s this pony back h… back in Ponyville. Pinkie Pie, her name is. She’s a beast for streamers, oh my GAWWWWD you never saw the like. I could use my horn to attach streamers and decorations to stuff! I’m not sure I’m that good at tying knots and things like that, but I can learn. It’s gonna be great. Eeee, is that it?” “My second home,” said Hasu proudly. “Eeeee! It’s as stuffy and old as ever! Is it still like all dust and boring inside, and sooooo quiet?” “I’m sure I can make some allowances,” smiled Hasu. “You can bring your… oh, pony hell, I can’t believe I’m fumbling this. Uh… dock? Your dock? You know.” He stopped. Vinyl Scratch had frozen in the street, with a look of horror on her face. “Oh, no!” said Hasu. “I remember what it meant to you. You must have been using it at the concert! Of course, how could you do what you do without it? It sounded wonderful. Vinyl, talk to me! What’s wrong? We’ll go, we’ll go right now and get your dock.” “Deck,” said Vinyl Scratch, staring at nothing as if nothing had fangs and a very bad attitude. “Deck! I’m so sorry,” said Hasu. “I knew that. I’ll remember. We’ll go and get your deck, right now…” “Decks,” said Vinyl, beginning to tremble. “There’s two now. Still on stage, even. I didn’t even put them away.” Hasu’s jaw dropped. “Vinyl, talk to me. I know you very well, and that just made it worse. Did you replace the first one? It seems impossible.” “N-no…” Hasu was seizing her, shaking her. “Vinyl, tell me! What happened? Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, but how could you possibly… did you go find a matching one? Vinyl, you look like you’re seeing a ghost! Please tell me what’s wrong! That was the most important thing you had in all Neighpon!” Vinyl gulped, looking haunted. “I needed two, to perform. That’s two decks, I’m on two decks, because of the beat matching. I didn’t have them in Shido. And I needed two…” “Let it out,” urged Hasu. “Let it out, then we’ll go and fix everything, I promise.” “There was this, this, traveling magician,” said Vinyl unsteadily. “And he had this w-wand. And I needed two. And h… he never told me it would be DIVIDED…” Hasu’s jaw dropped, and then he was hugging her. “Oh, VINYL! Poor Vinyl!” “No it’s okay, it’s okay,” insisted Vinyl, “don’t be like that or I’ll start crying again. I gotta go get them, I gotta, I didn’t even say goodbye, they’ll be so scared…” “They were broken? You take care of them?” pressed Hasu. “No, they’re stars along with me. The guy, he built them back up again, they’re great… I’ll never let artifact magic touch them again, ever EVER… look, I gotta get them, you understand. They need to join me. We’ll go right away, okay?” Hasu gazed at her for a moment. “…or maybe you need to join them,” he said. “What?” Even as she said it, the sound of galloping hooves in the distance began to grow louder. Vinyl just stared helplessly at Hasu, as the sound built and resolved itself into two ponies. One was gray, with a disheveled black mane and tail. One was a huge red stallion, covered in sweat, his eyes terrified. Even before they approached Vinyl and Hasu, Octavia and Big Macintosh were bawling and apologising at the top of their lungs. “We’re SORRY! We’re sorry we’re so sorry please don’t be angry we love you we’re sorry we’re sorry…” Vinyl stared, her shades perched on the top of her head. She did have a glance for Big Macintosh, but mostly she could not stop looking at weeping, grovelling Octavia. She couldn’t even blink. “WE’RE SORRY AW HORSEAPPLES WE’RE SO CONSARNED SORRY RIGHT NOW…” “Please!” said Hasu, gently, while Big Macintosh tried to draw a breath. The gentle bookseller reached up and booped Big Macintosh’s nose with a delicate hoof. “Please, calm yourself, everything will be fine!” As their eyes met, Octavia fell silent, and just fixed Vinyl with a desperately vulnerable gaze, her lip quivering. She glanced at Hasu, her eyes wide. She looked back at Vinyl… She was seized in a fierce embrace by her best friend in all Equestria, and burst into wailing tears on Vinyl Scratch’s shoulder. “Oh, Tavi,” managed Vinyl. “Ohhhh, Tavi…” Beside them, Hasu nodded. “My good stallion! If I’m not mistaken, you helped move things for my Vinyl. You didn’t bring her docks, ah, decks, by chance?” Big Macintosh shook his head, wide-eyed. “No matter,” said Hasu. “May I soothe your feelings with a hug?” Big Macintosh nodded, and without hesitation the calm bookseller reared and wrapped him in a kindly pony hug. “Don’t worry,” said Hasu. “Everything will be all right.” “How did you even find us?” asked Vinyl. “Tavi! Big Macintosh! How did you come all the way out here? Did someone recognize Hasu?” Octavia shook her head, opened her mouth, and then gave up trying to speak and returned to frantically hugging Vinyl again. Big Macintosh cleared his throat. “We followed th’ signs…” Hasu wrinkled his brow. “But there aren’t good signs in Nairiku-bu province. We know where we live, it’s not exactly the capital city, is it? Did you just get lucky?” Vinyl was shaking. “I think I got lucky, not them… oh, Tavi! Poor Tavi…” Big Macintosh shook his head. “Eenope. We followed them pink signs. You know?” Blank looks greeted him. “Th’ ones that say, ‘this way to the running-away DJ and her boyfriend’?” Blank looks grew more disbelieving. “Also, sometimes, ‘hurry up you idiot, this way, you can’t go over the stupid mountains’?” “There’s no such signs,” said Hasu. “I’ve never even heard of such signs. Pink? Could it be pink demons leading you to your doom?” Vinyl hugged weeping Octavia tighter. “Definitely not that,” she said. “Maybe away from it?” She realized what she was saying, and glanced at Hasu, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean that! I just… I…” Hasu released Big Macintosh. He was smiling, and slightly tearful. “Shhh. It’s all right, my Vinyl.” Vinyl’s lip was quivering. “B-but I… I CAN’T be your Vinyl…” “You will always be my Vinyl,” said Hasu, firmly. “And I’ll always love you. Go on. Keep on being Vinyl. You’re the world’s Vinyl, too. That’s not wrong.” Vinyl’s lip quivered worse, and then she’d flung herself into his embrace, and they hugged fiercely, as Octavia and Big Macintosh said not a word. Then, Vinyl parted from the embrace, and walked deliberately over to Octavia, and kissed her on the muzzle. “We’ll talk. And thank you. Mare needs a reminder, sometimes.” Octavia gulped. “I’m so sorry, Scratchie…” “Shhh,” said Vinyl Scratch. “It’s okay, baby. I know.” “Scratchie?” “Yeah, Tavi?” “He’s really nice,” said Octavia. “Your stallion.” “Yeah he is,” said Vinyl Scratch. She turned, and faced Hasu. He wasn’t crying, and he faced her bravely. Vinyl Scratch went up to him, and just looked into his eyes. “Forever, Hasu.” “Of course,” said the bookseller stallion. “I love you. I’ll… give your love to my decks? You remembered, all these years later.” “Of course,” said Hasu. “Of course. Give them a kiss from me. Uh, if they’re down for that sort of thing?” Scratch was undeterred. “Hasu?” “Yeah?” “I may never see you again.” Hasu stepped closer. “I know,” he said, simply. His tears were perfectly balanced by his brave smile. Vinyl reared, and gave him a fierce hug, and kissed him like the end of the world… Then she’d whirled, and was trotting off, still somewhat unsteady, but determined. But not before lifting a hoof… and dropping her shades down in perfect DJ Pon-3 style. They shielded her eyes from the rain… from without, or within. Big Macintosh and Octavia fell in beside her, as they began the long journey back to where they’d left the decks, Octavia’s cello, and their entire lives as touring musicians. They kept up a steady trot, because there was a crucial command performance to give, and they had to get around the mountains somehow with far too little time to cover that ground. “Scratchie.” “Yeah?” “Since when are you, me? I’m supposed to be the big romantic.” “Shut up,” said Vinyl Scratch, and gave Octavia a kiss. Over The MountainSomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.KeystoneSomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.EpilogueSomething has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.Planting FlagsAs they rode through the hills and valleys of Neighpon, Octavia looked sidelong at Vinyl Scratch, her longtime companion. “So, is now a good time?” “Huh?” said Scratch, distractedly. “To tell me.” said Octavia gravely. Vinyl Scratch rolled her eyes. “No biggie, we’re on our way, end of story all set don’t worry about it k?” Octavia’s ears went back. “Vinyl.” “Nah, really, it’s okay…” “Vinyl!” demanded Octavia. “I said end of story!” Octavia fell silent, studying the little pout on Scratch’s muzzle, trying to solve the mystery. Her eyes flicked up to check the Neighponnese unicorn’s eyes, which were angrily fixed on what little horizon could be seen. Octavia frowned, knitting her brow. She glanced at Scratch’s expression again. Yes, she was cross, but was that a hint of the tearfulness returning? It decided her. “Scratchie?” said Tavi, very gently. “Maybe it is a little tiny story all the same. Please?” Scratch’s expression darkened into a grimace, as the cart rolled along. “Maybe I should get off and run the rest of the way, so Big Macintosh doesn’t get tired!” Without turning his head, Big Macintosh called back, “Eenope! This cart ain’t nothin’. Enjoy your ride!” “But you’re not, dear sweet Scratchie,” said Octavia. “What’s bothering you?” “Sweet! That’s a good one.” “Well, you are,” argued Octavia. “I know you better than my own mate. Or any of our side-ponies, and you and I don’t even make love.” Vinyl pouted. “Or, rather,” continued Octavia earnestly, “not with our bodies. We make all the love there could be, with our friendship.” Vinyl angrily wiped a tear. “There, you see! Something’s hurting you. You’re acting so strange. Back at the harbor, you were acting so strange! What was it you said? ‘Piquant’? Scratchie dear, since when do you call things ‘piquant’? Are you secretly Rarity without telling me? I suppose your fashion sense might be grateful for that…” Scratch giggled, in spite of herself. “Nah.” Her expression darkened again… but not so much into anger, rather she looked guilty and sad. “He said that.” “Who? What?” “He said ‘piquant’,” explained Scratch. “Not Big Macintosh. S… somepony else.” “Somepony hurt you?” asked Octavia, in great seriousness. “You’ve said nothing of this! Have you come to Neighpon in spite of a dreadful past, for my sake, so me and my cello can enlighten the country? Oh, Scratchie! You are so noble.” Scratch snorted. “Not even!” Octavia sat back, her ears splayed in frustration. “Well, I’m trying to understand! At home you are so happy-go-lucky. Or, sometimes, happy-go-fucky, if that is even a thing. Now that you’re here, a dark cloud hangs over you! I think Neighpon is beautiful. Do you hate it, and want to go home? We’ll have taken a long journey for nothing, in that event.” Scratch didn’t answer at first. Then she turned, and the yearning in her tearful ruby eyes was unmistakable. “No, Tavi. I’ve missed this place horribly. This is home, and I’m back where I belong. It’s just… complicated.” Octavia’s first reaction wasn’t additional talk. She scooched over, and hugged her old friend, and Vinyl Scratch didn’t wail or cry, but she melted into Octavia’s embrace and hugged back fiercely. She took deep breaths, controlling her feelings, ending up with a big sigh, and then she said “Thanks, Tavi. I love you, ya know that?” “Of course I do,” said Octavia staunchly. Scratch sighed again, and looked out to the horizon bravely. “Now I can, like, totally go on.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed, and the hint of a wry little smile played across her muzzle. “Yes… you can go on and explain to me what bothered you so much.” “TAVII!” “Vinyl Scratch, I insist! I shall know what has upset my darling Scratchie, or, or… I’ll jump out, sit in the middle of the road and not budge!” “I’ll drag ya.” “Stout Heart was feeding me cakes before I left. It might prove beyond your capacities.” “Big Macintosh will drag ya,” teased Scratch. Octavia considered that with an appalled look, and glared at Vinyl. “Well then, since clearly I can’t be a pony anchor amidst the road, I shall be a detective pony! Now let’s see. When did the Strange Behavior of Scratchie begin? Why, it was back at the harbor! Big Macintosh was leaping about, you flew into a rage, and two Kirin flew down to calm things. Yet you’re not angry with Big Macintosh now, and I know your moods pass like pegasi-driven clouds and expected that fact. What I didn’t expect was this lingering darkness. Aha! That Kirin stallion, he grabbed you and you were furious. HE was your ex-lover! Isn’t that so?” Scratch glared at Octavia. “It is not. I never saw that guy before, and that never happens! Which is part of why I’m pissy, I had no business taking it out on him. I was nervous.” “Nervous why?” demanded Octavia. “It’s been a long time, okay?” “And you were afraid,” guessed Octavia, “afraid you would be punished! I see it now, that explains everything. The rest of us are not native born, and we might act like fools, but you’re held to a higher standard, aren’t you, Vinyl? You were afraid the Kirin would exact a terrible punishment on you, for our misdeeds!” “NO!” yelled Vinyl, as Big Macintosh’s ear flicked back fretfully to hear the argument. “You take that back!” “Perhaps I overstate,” admitted Octavia. “But it explains everything, doesn’t it? Admit it, Vinyl Scratch, you’re worried we will misbehave, and you panicked when the Kirin appeared! What other possible reason could there be for your reaction, and for you to urge us away from there with all due haste?” Scratch reached maxiumum overpout, glowering at her dear friend. “Listen, you’ve got to believe me. No. Absolutely not, don’t even think it. Kirin would not hold me extra responsible for if you’re bad. Kirin won’t think you’re bad in the first place! They’re gonna keep us all safe and love us and protect us and do their very best by us, without favoring anypony in any way. This is a beautiful place to live. Don’t you… didn’t you get some, like, vague idea of the truth when Hina-rin came to visit Ponyville? I got so excited she had to send me to bed for a nap!” “And now that you’re here, something about them frightens you? Still they are a bit too much?” That got through. Vinyl Scratch winced, visibly. “Look, I need you to stop with that. I love them, we all do. Kirin are so good! They ARE good.” “Good at making you upset, dear Scratchie!” retorted Octavia. “You’re still upset. What is going on?” Scratch had the pissy look back again, with overtones of guilty… her ears were nearly pinned back to her head. “I guess I better tell you, then.” “Thank you,” said Octavia. “Yes, you should. Please, Vinyl. It’s hurting you, I’ve rarely seen you so distressed. I thought this was supposed to be a wondrous journey!” “It was,” sighed Scratch. “It is. I gotta deal with it somehow. I didn’t think it’d matter… and you guys aren’t unicorns.” Octavia blinked. “I beg your pardon? Pony prejudice, from YOU of all ponies? You are the single most egalitarian unicorn I know of, in the whole world!” “No, I mean that’s why it shouldn’t matter! We can all travel around, protected, and they’ll ask n… nothin’ of us. You shouldn’t worry.” “And you should?” pressed Octavia. “Because you’re a unicorn?” Scratch looked miserable. “Not much of one, Tavi. That’s the whole problem.” “We don’t care,” said Octavia. “You never cared before. The Kirin don’t care, you said. Or do they? Why would the Kirin care?” Vinyl Scratch sniffled. “Cos we’re… kinda like their FOOD.” Her eyes widened in alarm, as did Octavia’s. So did Big Macintosh’s, because he was staring back at them in horror… and not watching where he was going, and heading at a brisk trot into a cherry tree. “EEEEE!” “EEEEE!” Yosuru looked up at the colorfully painted sign. “We can use this place!” Applejack boggled at it. “Kyo-kyu? What’s that mean?” Yosuru laughed happily. “This is a food purveyor! You don’t have to read the words. Ponies of Neighpon like to use Kirin language to label their signs. They feel it is good fortune if they do so.” A unicorn emerged, resplendent in beautifully tailored fabrics. His eyes lit up. “Kirin! Anata o umeru?” Yosuru glanced at Applejack, and subtly shook her head at the unicorn, causing him to back up a step. “Not today,” she said. “We bring a visiting mare. Kawa is going to perform a service for this mare.” The unicorn glanced at Applejack’s forehead, and looked puzzled. Then, he brightened. “I am Mugen! Or Mugennokaijitsu. Mugen for short! Please come in.” “Well, thankee!” said Applejack. “Sure is a nice, ah, sure is a… now, what the HAY is that?” It was as red as any apple, but it was no apple. It sat motionless in a display case, resembling some insane overgrown insect. Applejack peered sidelong at it, fearfully studying the huge pinchers and creepy antennae. “Robusuta!” proclaimed Mugen. “Very rare. The pinnacle of my collection! A mark of great honor!” Kawa gave him a sharp look. “And you will sell it?” Mugen backed up a step, again. “I am sorry?” Kawa regarded him sternly. “Rare they may be, sir. I understand the appeal. But if you fish these creatures… you must sell them to feed other unicorns.” Mugen’s eyes were wide. “Of course! Of course! No robusuta shall be wasted! I ate one myself just the other day which is why I offered…” “Yes, I see,” said Yosuru. “Do not over-harvest, please! Today we require only a room and a bed.” Applejack blinked, not quite up to speed. “This is a hotel, then?” “Why would it be a hotel?” asked Yosuru, puzzled. “You’ll use my own bedroom,” said Mugen, hastily. “I will go get Uni, that’s my marefriend Uni, she is sleeping…” “Whoa whoa WHOA!” objected Applejack. “Hang on. We’re kickin’ you out of your own place? You’re gonna chase your marefriend out of her own bed jes’ so’s I can fuck a Kirin?” Mugen looked in a panicky way, between the two Kirin. He seemed frozen, unable to reply. “She does not mean to insult,” soothed Yosuru. “He is honored to do so,” added Kawa, “there is no chasing…” Applejack scraped at the floor with a forehoof. “Seems kinda funny to me! I don’t mean to insult, eh? Well, where I come from, if ya do me a solid then by Celestia it behooves me ta come up with somethin’ sweet for you in return. Mister Mugen? Tell me straight, are you lookin’ to do me a favor?” The Kirin were quiet, not interfering, and although Mugen seemed unsettled at the demands of a foreign mare, he rallied. “Of course I desire to do you a favor. Please accept our hospitality. Uni will understand immediately. We long to serve, and it will mean so much to her, to be able to directly be of aid! Most times, obviously, there is little she can do.” Applejack studied him. He seemed sincere, and no longer worried: it was her own outburst and rejection of his offer, before the Kirin, that had distressed him. “Hmm,” she said. “That’s nice an’ a bit confusin’ of you. What if I want to do you a favor in return? What kin I give ya?” She blinked, and added, “Possibly not a good Apple-fuckin’, no matter how nice you are, ‘cos we’re settin’ me up to go home and get bred by my own sweetheart!” Mugen’s eyes widened. “I see! Except that you are not a unicorn, or pegasus. But of course, now I am even more hospitable. And puzzled.” “Well, my sweetie’s a pegasus,” said Applejack. “Oh!” said Mugen. “Of course. Now it all makes…” He gawked at Applejack. “You don’t look like a stallion.” “Depends when ya look,” suggested Applejack. “An’ where!” Yosuru tsked, smirking delicately. “It is a long story, sir. Do you trust our ways?” “Always!” vowed Mugen. “Of course you can help this apparent mare to be bred by her pegasus stallion, who would be able to do that anyhow, or possibly it is the pegasus who’s a mare…” “Again, depends when ya look,” said Applejack, “and you’re changin’ the subject!” Mugen eeped. “What is the subject?” “What can I do for you, Mister Mugen? Ah insists,” said Applejack. “There’s gotta be something you’d like, an’ it’s only fair. Especially if we’re wakin’ up your unicorn ladyfriend and taking over your very own bedroom! Let me come up with somethin’ special to do for the both of ya.” Mugen boggled. “But the honor is ours. Really.” “Nope,” said Applejack decidedly. “Gotta give ya somethin’.” Mugen frowned, thinking hard. “Of course.” He glanced at Yosuru. “I must? She truly needs to give, not simply be gifted?” Yosuru nodded solemnly. “We do not argue with her. This mare has a sweet, sweet heart. It will make her happier. We sense this.” Mugen turned to Applejack, unhesitatingly. “I wish for nothing better. You shall give us a fine gift! Uhh… what do you even have? And who are you?” “Heh! You might have heard of me as the Drea…” began Applejack, and gulped, glancing at the Kirin. “Uh, the derned greatest Applejack that ever appled a jack! Heh. And I have sure as sh… ugar an’ sweet apples, sailed the seas from the mighty port of Canterlot to get here.” “I am a purveyor of rare and exquisite foods,” said Mugen, gesturing at the display cases that held countless unrecognizable things, including the big red sea bug. “What cargoes did you bring from that mighty port?” Applejack boggled. “Ya mean, food?” “Of course,” said Mugen. “You came here, to the crown of Neighpon’s culinary life, where the sea provides special food for unicorns to give life to our Kirin. What wondrous food did you bring from Canterlot for us?” Applejack blinked. “Uhhh, a big ol’ farm horse and a cellist and a unicorn and a lot of poundin’ loud music?” Mugen wrinkled his muzzle cutely. “Well, we can’t eat that! Anything else?” Applejack stood, transfixed, as an idea struck. “Dear… Celestia…” “If I’m not mistaken, that is your sort of Kirin, except there’s only one of her!” said Mugen. “We can’t eat her either, though we would be honored to have her as our guest…” “Be right back!” squeaked Applejack, and she was gone out the door, galloping like a madpony for her rented yacht. Mugen boggled politely at the Kirin for a moment, and then before he could say anything, Applejack was back, grinning and panting with exertion, a bag in her teeth which she laid on the floor so she could speak. “Now, I ain’t got the foggiest idea how this is gonna go, but did you say rare foods?” She deposited, on the counter, that very bag, and nudged it open with her nose… and revealed to Mugen’s fascinated gaze, her prize. Granny’s dreaded Apple Turnip Cakes. As Mugen studied the nearly-food, Applejack grinned brightly, and whispered to the Kirin, “If this don’t work, git ready to run!” “Run? What for?” said Kawa, but his remark was cut off. Mugen banged on the floor with a hoof. “UNI!” he cried. There was a stirring upstairs, and hooves hitting the floor. Applejack grinned wider. “Welp, that tore it!” she said, and began to sidle away, but Yosuru leaned over and tenderly snagged her ear in gentle Kirin teeth. “Hey!” protested Applejack. “Please do not presume!” ordered Yosuru, releasing her. “Whatever this stuff is, I think it may please Mugen!” “He is filled with much wonder,” added Kawa. “So were we,” admitted Applejack. “Never could get used to the derned things.” Uni appeared, a lovely earth pony mare who trotted up to her mate inquisitively. With a look, he redirected her inquisitiveness to the bizarre foodstuffs. Together, they nibbled on one of the apple turnip cakes, and both sets of eyes flew wide in shock. “Run,” suggested Applejack. “Sometimes it hits ya that way…” “Do not run,” urged Kawa. “Wait.” “Mugennokaijitsu!” exclaimed Uni. “Gesundheit?” offered Applejack. The two food purveyors turned to her as one, their faces wreathed in smiles. “It is wonderful! And strange! And what is it?” “Apple turnip cakes,” said Applejack, her ears still back in fretful nervousness. “How is it so sweet?” asked Uni. “And sour?” “Dang it,” protested Applejack, “I tole her not to use the sour apples but she said they needed eatin’ up…” “Umami,” observed Mugen thoughtfully. “No, my granny,” replied Applejack, “an’ she does her best, honest she do…” “No, you misunderstand,” said Mugen. “This food balances all types of flavor miraculously. It is sour, and sweet, and umami is the base of richness and earthy fullness…” “That there would be the turnips if I ain’t mistaken,” offered Applejack, brightening. “Ain’t much more earthy than a turnip.” “And the hint of bitterness. And salty!” exclaimed Mugen. Applejack winced. “Well, even Granny knows ya gotta bribe us to eat ‘em somehow…” “They are wonderful!” cried Mugen and Uni. “They are?” gawked Applejack. “Ah mean… they are! Yep! How many ya want in exchange for use of your room?” “ALL OF THEM,” proclaimed Mugen, trotting in glee. “How many do you have? Can you get more?” “Dang!” said Applejack. She hesitated. “What, for one room? Do you know where I can get some provisions for headin’ home, then?” Mugen waved a hoof to shush her. He frowned, thinking hard. He glanced at the Kirin, but not worriedly: more like he was determined to strike a handsome deal that was joyful for all concerned. He did math in his head. “Canterlot… you take bits?” “More than you could possibly imagine,” said Applejack. “I mean, yeah, that’s our coinage.” “How many Apple Turnip Cakes did you bring us?” “I reckon there’s sixty or seventy left. ‘Cos frankly, it seems like it’s a matter of taste,” admitted Applejack. Mugen looked earnestly in her eyes. “Your sixty or seventy Apple Turnip Cakes, all that remain… for the use of our bedroom, and also… ten thousand Canterlot bits.” Applejack’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Uni gasped. “You insult her! We will find more! We can get more, please, just let us have this…” As the Kirin giggled, Applejack broke into a huge grin. “Better’n Zap Apple Jam. Who knew? I can’t hardly believe it. You got a DEAL, ponies!” Mugen and Uni cheered, and they all hugged. Uni blinked. “Ten thousand Canterlot bits. For… exclusive?” “Ah beg your pardon?” said Applejack. Uni set her pretty little jaw, in determination. “For all the Apple Turnip Cakes, from Canterlot: that we have, exclusive? No other shops?” Applejack gave her a look. “You remind me of somepony. How about we let you hash it out with our lil’ business-pony? I ain’t the Boss Mare of Sweet Apple Acres. And the Boss Mare wouldn’t be any tougher’n me about these things prob’ly… but our deal-making’s done by a nice lil’ filly, name of Diamond Tiara. Will you negotiate with her, for your exclusive rights? ‘Cos I do know what that means, missy.” “Yes! I will get the exclusive, from Diamond Tiara, as you wish,” said Uni happily. “Kin I sell tickets?” asked Applejack. Mugen knew his mare, and could tell the direction things were turning. Beaming in delight, he shooed excited Uni out of the way, and she first ran back upstairs, then remembered and scooted out the door. “We have made a deal,” he smiled, “and please enjoy our bedroom. We will rejoin you in the morning.” “Where ya going?” blinked Applejack. “Do you have somewhere to go, Mister Mugen?” His eyes crinkled at the edges, in amusement. “I will join Uni. And she is already unloading your Apple Turnip Cakes. We should not intrude, so I will ask her to reload them on your ship… and we will guard it, and our new fortune of cakes, tonight.” “They are just joking,” soothed Yosuru. “Nopony will steal your things.” “Not if they have to get past Uni,” smiled Mugen. “That is clear. Thank you, Applejack. We will all prosper from your Granny’s Apple Turnip Cakes. Go and use our bedroom, and enjoy the services of our Kirin.” “Good, are they?” asked Applejack. Mugen’s smile grew faintly… wicked. “Can I sell tickets?” he playfully teased, and he turned to go. Scratch, Octavia and Big Macintosh sat under the cherry tree. “Ah’m sorry!” repeated Big Macintosh. “I promise to keep m’ eyes on the road from now on!” “Oh, calm down, Big Macintosh, we forgive you,” said Octavia. “Anyway it’s not really a road, more of a path. It’s lovely, but no wonder you couldn’t keep following it while watching us.” “My decks are packed a lot lower now,” added Vinyl Scratch, glumly. “They were fine. I’m not even mad. But sheesh, way to make a big deal out of it.” Octavia turned to confront her. “Scratchie! You said your Kirin ATE ponies! How can that be not a big deal?” Scratch, cheered, gave a half-smile and opened her mouth. “As FOOD,” added Octavia, “and not in the more delightful way, before you say anything!” Vinyl Scratch’s smile dropped. She looked out over the lovely Neighponnese countryside. “Would you believe both?” “I’m going to need a little more explanation than that,” said Octavia. She gave Scratch a little kiss. “Come on. What you say couldn’t be true, considering how much you love these Kirin. And I saw them, three of them by now, and I don’t believe a word of it. They cannot be pony-eaters, so what did you actually mean?” “Yeah, well, it’s real simple,” replied Vinyl. “They’re magical creatures, right? They feed the youngest Kirin with magic. Pass it between their horns.” “And?” said Octavia warily. Vinyl blushed very pink… and wordlessly tapped her horn with a hoof. Octavia’s and Big Macintosh’s eyes widened, as they got it. “Oh, my!” said Octavia. “You don’t mean they…” “YES!” blurted Scratch. She couldn’t meet their eyes. “Yes. Unicorns. Kirin. You got it. They… suck us off.” “Forgive me,” said Octavia, “but I’ve known other unicorns and I know a little about it. Do you mean they actually…” “Totally,” said Scratch. “I mean it. They’re not made like unicorns, they’re magical creatures. What would give another pony horrible burns and be really bad news? Kirin can handle it. They fucking go down on us, okay? They suck our horns so no magic gets loose, and they drink it right up, yum yum. ‘Piquant’. Kirin feed on fuckin’ magic okay? That’s just how they work.” “Is that bad?” asked Octavia warily. Vinyl shuddered. She didn’t answer for a moment. Octavia opened her mouth again, but then Vinyl spoke. “It’s wonderful…” She began to cry. “I didn’t think I’d ever tell anypony this. I thought I’d live in Ponyville and not have to think about it. It still hurts. I guess I can deal with it now…” “Miss Vinyl,” said Big Macintosh gently, “did a Kirin fella hurt you?” She looked up tearfully. “No,” said Vinyl Scratch. “I failed him.” They grew quiet, and let her talk. “You have to understand, it’s like a symbiosis… I think that’s the word? They care for us in a way that isn’t even ponylike: it’s greater. They’ll die for us. They serve us and keep us good… and then, just sometimes, one of the older Kirin will seek out a unicorn, and it’s payback time.” “And that doesn’t even do it justice,” said Scratch. “That makes it sound like a burden. Kirin can make you feel just incredible, nothing begins to compare. They can do crazy unbelievable things. The Kirin mares, I don’t know what it’s like but I heard stories, something about them is just irresistible.” Big Macintosh nodded solemnly, knowingly. “And I gotta tell you, the males… it’s not a burden, okay? It’s a joyful privilege. They’ll spend a lot of energy. Did I say they feed on fuckin’ magic? Don’t let it seem like Kirin can come along, grab you and sluuuurp! No, unicorns release magic in a certain sort of way. Ponyville, and most unicorns not in Neighpon, know it as horngasm. Unicorns arc, and get pregnant. Well, in Neighpon the Kirin let unicorns get pregnant with any earth ponies they like, they don’t have to do that with their horns together. It’s, like… a little bit uncool. Greedy? Selfish?” Octavia looked worried. “But, Scratchie, we know about pony breeding. Pegasi and unicorns do spontaneously emerge from earth ponies. But…” “Yeah,” said Scratch, “yeah. Breeding with earth ponies, you mostly get earth ponies. And LOVE, dammit! And love, and families, and… you know, I get how a lot of unicorns and pegasi stick with others like them, so they can breed true. I get that. And is it more important than fucking love and families and… I don’t know, Tavi. I wonder.” They sat quietly for a moment, thinking. “But yeah,” continued Scratch, “we get a lot of earth ponies in Neighpon. It’s good for earth ponies in Neighpon. There’s not as many unicorns, pegasi. We’re kind of special when we happen. We come from earth pony stock almost all of the time. It’s not a rule, not really a rule, but… did you know unicorns tried to rule Neighpon once? Our pegasi can be fuckin’ terrifying. Kirin made some choices about all that. Kirin tied us to all ponykind and now it’s mostly earth ponies here, and when we unicorns, when pegasi turn up, it’s exceptional and we’re celebrated but we got responsibilities.” “We’re listening,” said Octavia, and Big Macintosh nodded. She continued, “Tell us all you can, Scratchie. We should know this, we’re guests.” “Yeah, well, you’re earth pony guests,” retorted Scratch. “You’re the best of ponykind and you’re what we take care of, and the Kirin are there for you. Pegasi are kinda like Kirin wingponies, heh, what they have is flight and fierceness so they happily join and train with the Kirin. There’s like no chance of any bad monsters hurting our earth ponies, or anything invading us, because our pegasi are freakin’ insane, they are the most utter badasses. Out of love, I mean. They take the Kirin thing super seriously, meditate and shit, they’re warriors but they’re warriors of love, their sense of duty is amazing…” “You’re not a pegasus, Scratchie dear,” said Octavia. “You’re a unicorn. What does that mean to you?” Scratch started to cry again, and Octavia didn’t rush her. “We power it all,” said Vinyl Scratch forlornly. “We get special diets, like the fishes, and we build up magic and we go around, meditating, trying to be beautiful, hoping to be picked. When we fuck earth ponies we try not to get so worked up we squirt. That’s for the Kirin, and it’s important. It’s our duty… just like with the pegasi. We’re little magic batteries and on our horns all of Neighpon rests. And then, every so often, we’re chosen. And a Kirin will come to us, and we’ll go with them. We’ll go, knowing it’s gonna be like the high point of our lives…” “You’re crying,” said Octavia. “I’m not done, okay? This is so hard. Just give me a minute. I’m glad it’s you, Tavi. And you I guess, Big Macintosh. I mean, you’re cool and all, this is fine…” “We’re here for you, Scratchie dear.” “Eyup.” Vinyl sniffled, and resumed her tale. “What you have to understand is the Kirin are not selfish. They’ll spend a lot of energy on us. They use their magic and they seriously make love to their little unicorns, they get right into it. They love us, in their way, okay? But what has to happen is this: their unicorn’s like losing her mind with fuck, in a frenzy… or his, y’know… and they just take us all the way and the unicorn goes BLOOEY and lets loose with a horngasm the likes of which you never seen, and the Kirin’s suckin’ them like crazy, and gulp gulp gulp! The unicorn is fuckin’ wiped OUT, and the Kirin’s all charged up. He put a lot of effort into it, but he’s more than rewarded. It’s good for him to be an astonishing lay, because that’s how he gets magic to take care of all of Neighpon, and he belongs to all of Neighpon. He’s got responsibilities too.” Big Macintosh looked troubled, but said nothing. Octavia bit her lip. “Scratchie? That’s not what hurts. It’s strange, but I understand it. What hurts?” Scratchie’s lip quivered terribly. “I… ran out!” Sobbing, she went into Octavia’s forelegs, to be cuddled. Vinyl was blushing in her shame, physically shaking with long-repressed guilt. “There, there…” And then, Scratch was pushing away, dripping tears, miserable and furious. “And he did that!” “What?” wailed Octavia. “What? Tell us, then, if you won’t let me hold you! Tell the rest, dear Scratchie!” “I will let you,” vowed Scratch, “but I GOTTA tell everything! Gimme space, let me do this, I can do this… don’t care if I cry, I GOT to get this out now. Tavi, he picked me! I never got picked by a Kirin before, and I was so excited! He was beautiful. And so kind… but oh my GAWWWD sexy as fuck, you know? Wow…” “Go on,” said Octavia. “We are here for you, and you’ll feel better, go on.” “I am. Okay… well, obviously we fucked, right? This guy, this Kirin stallion, he was pretty well hung. He did that thing with the magic and oh my gosh, and he’s just making love so tender and slow but I’m feelin’ the passion and holy flying fuck on a stick, nothing will ever compare, okay? I’m gettin’ REAL used to it. I know I’m not supposed to attach but he’s makin’ it real hard, probably doesn’t even know it but it’s my first Kirin and I’m losing my pony mind…” Big Macintosh couldn’t meet her eyes, or Octavia’s. Vinyl continued. “He didn’t even go for my horn for the longest time. He kissed it. I couldn’t believe it. So romantic… and then he’s fuckin’ me so slow and deep, his power increasing when I’m ready for it, and I feel like my brain’s leaking out my ears and I’m shivering all over and THAT is when I feel his muzzle slowly going down on my horn, just in time. And he’s got my horn like all in his mouth, all of it, and I can feel this sort of teasing, sexy sucking like in my BRAIN, and he’s so fuckin’ ready for me and he just keeps building and building and building as I wriggle and squeak…” “Easy, Scratchie,” said Octavia warningly. “You might be… making some of us uncomfortable?” Big Macintosh grunted, and rolled over, for his stallionhood had begun to show. “Don’t mind me. I’m sorry.” “Doesn’t matter, don’t care,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Anyway we don’t fuck roadies, it’s bad for touring. We can get to our first gig and you can pick up a mare, Big Macintosh, they’ll love you. Sorry if this gives you a woody. I gotta tell it, okay?” “Eyup. I… don’t wanna clop. Not like this.” “I’ll be quick,” said Vinyl. “You see, that was the good part. The problem was, next came the sad part.” “We’re here for you,” said Octavia. Scratch gulped. “Not much to tell. I came, okay? And I let loose with my horn. And… Tavi, you know I don’t do much with magic? That I carry both decks with my horn? Um… turntables are not very heavy. I came, Tavi, and I gave him all I had. And… it was, like, nothin’.” “Oh, Scratchie…” “The worst part was, he tried so hard. It was like he was starving or something, though I don’t think he could really have been starving. He had plenty of energy to spend on me. It felt like he was trying to suck my brains out through my horn. That feels amazing, by the way, since you can’t know. He was doing that magic thing, and he’s pumpin’ me, and it’s like he’s so unfulfilled by how little I gave that he just tried to DRAG it out of me and oh my GAWWWD. He’s draining my horn dry, my body is like convulsing for minutes on end, he’s just shredding the fuck out of me, trying to get fed. And I can’t fuckin’ do it. I don’t have the magic for him.” “Finally, he gives up. He’s panting, sweating, he looks like hell. I’m lying across him and I can’t move. I’m physically and magically drained beyond anything I could imagine, and I’m looking into his eyes and I just surrender, I want to be his forever, let him just drain me the fuck out forever. There’s nothing else in life but this. And I can see he spent so much more than he gave, and he’s trying to figure out what to do. He had no idea he’d picked a fuckin’ dud unicorn, okay?” “And that’s when he starts talking. I’m too burnt out even to cry, but it’s the worst thing ever. He’s thanking me, okay? I used up his energies and gave nothing in return, but he’s thanking me. He says it was wonderful. That my unicorn pussy is so clenchy and strong and healthy. And he’s racking his brain trying to make it seem okay, and that’s when he explains that, that my magic was especially sweet even though there was so little of it…” “Oh, Scratchie,” murmured Octavia. “I look at him in disbelief. We’re not supposed to be a, a… fuckin’ after-dinner mint! We are supposed to be able to feed our Kirin! We’re the only ones who can do it, the pegasi can’t do it, the earth ponies can’t do it. They need us! And there I am… and he’s trying to make me feel better by telling me my inadequate magic tasted good! Piquant, he says. And there’s this apologetic look in his eyes, like he knows, and he knows I know, and he knows I know he knows…” Octavia sighed. “Your hug is waiting, my love. You ought to have one, after this.” “Yeah,” said Scratch in a little voice. She shook herself. “That was it. He left, Tavi. That’s what they do. I was supposed to be able to see him gallop off on a rainbow, all charged up and looking indestructible, and be proud of myself for being part of something much bigger than me. Not! I was more ashamed than I’ve ever been, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He couldn’t even make mists, he headed off on hoof, Tavi. I’d used him right up and given nothing back, he had to go find another Kirin and get a boost…” “The same way?” asked Big Macintosh. Scratch shook her head. “They send beams of magic. The young ones, that’s all they know. I think maybe Hina was a young Kirin. They can feed each other, but it’s like foals sucking on tits, it’s not what grown-ups do.” As Big Macintosh frowned to himself, Octavia demurely remarked, “Tell that to my Stout Heart. On second thought, don’t, please. We enjoy it far too much.” Scratch giggled in spite of herself. “Tavi! Naughty.” “Loving,” corrected Octavia. “Scratchie! Listen. So are you.” “Aw, Tavi…” “No, I mean it,” said Octavia. “Listen to yourself. I can’t do magic at all, but you still love me. Well, you were with a Kirin, long ago when you lived here, and you had sex with him and did the whole Kirin-feeding thing…” “But…” “Sh! And, Scratchie, you are a loving mare. The best. And you gave him everything you possibly could, your heart, your love, your magic until there was no more and I can picture you straining and trying to give even a little bit more, for him. You have nothing to be ashamed of, dear sweet Scratchie.” “But…” protested Vinyl, her lip quivering. “And he loved you, too, so much that he tried to make it better for you. And he was right to love you, because you are a sweet loving mare and deserve love.” Vinyl Scratch was quiet, just gazing at her dear friend. Then… “Hug now,” she said. “K?” And then Octavia was hugging her tightly, as Scratchie laughed and cried and hugged back like a madmare. “Thank you, oh thank you Tavi I love you so much…” “See?” quipped Octavia. “I told you.” Scratch broke away, wiping her eyes. “And you know what? That’s how I got into the exercises. Like, he told me my pussy was amazing and so tight and sexy and grabby, and I was like oh yeah? I’ll make it ten times as good. So I got that Kegel thingy and really got into practicing, and now I’ve got a lot to give! Um, that way.” “You do have a lot to give,” urged Octavia. “I’ve always known this.” “What about me?” asked Big Macintosh. Scratch glanced wryly at him. “You have a lot to give some groupie mare at our next town! You do all right, just don’t run into any more trees!” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, determinedly. The room was exquisite. The bed was curiously firm, and on the floor for some reason. The mood was electric. The Kirin was erect. Applejack looked him over, her tail flicking eagerly. “Kawa,” she said, “that there’s a fine specimen of stallionhood. Mind you, me an’ Dashie, we both kin do bigger but I’ll tell ya, I’m lookin’ forward to this. Two words. Comfort Zone.” Yosuru smiled. “Do you seek girthy males, then? Do not resign yourself to disappointment just yet.” “Naw, I mean it!” protested Applejack. “You think I’m lyin’? I meant it as a compliment! And it’s more girthy mares I seek. Well, one of ‘em.” She shifted from hoof to hoof. “You can really do it? I’ll be Dashie’s mare?” “Yes,” confirmed Kawa, his chin high. “Hoo-ee!” said Applejack. She gulped. “Well, here goes nothin’! Or maybe, here goes everythin’!” “What?” said Kawa politely. Applejack gave him a look. “You like th’ direct approach, huh? Fine. Gimme that hot Kirin dickin’.” Kawa lifted an eyebrow. His cock stiffened, as he looked Applejack over. “Hot?” “Aw, crap!” squeaked Applejack. “Okay nevermind! I won’t be too saucy. I’ll be good. Uh… c’mere and fuck me and make me a fertile mare!” “I would be delighted to,” said Kawa. Yosuru lay down, smiling, to serenely watch. Kawa walked unhurriedly over, and petted Applejack’s rump. He was rewarded with a wink, and a ‘Woohoo!’, and finding these signs sufficient, Kawa reared decorously and mounted. Applejack shook her mane ebulliently. It seemed like a strange way to do magic things, but she suspected she might get to like it in a hurry. Hastily, she corrected that to, ‘she liked it, in a hurry’, as Kawa’s courtly Kirin cock nuzzled her winking labia. She drew in a breath to let out another ‘woohoo!’, but found herself speechless. Not by a fierce intrusion or unexpected bulk, no… Kawa remained the same manageable dimensions she’d seen. It was texture. He seemed to fizz. There was an electrifying sensation she knew well, as one felt the bare flesh of one’s lover sliding skin on skin, sinking deep in passion. With the Kirin, this was unaccountably magnified. It boded amazing things, made unthinkable promises. Kawa slid inside her, stretching her cozily and giving her something to squeeze upon, but in doing it, her vagina was filled with fizz and life and energy. “Oh my…” breathed Applejack. “Do you wish orgasms, or to proceed more quickly?” The voice behind her ear was perfectly in control. There was something mysteriously sexy about that dispassionate tone. She drew a breath. “I tole you. Ain’t right to do this an’ not enjoy it. Let’s fuck, honey!” “That would be my great pleasure,” replied Kawa, cool as a cucumber. His dick wasn’t cool like a cucumber. It was about as demanding as a cucumber, penetration-wise, though it sank deeper into her… but it was warm and cozy, always with that mysterious tingling feeling. Applejack sighed with pleasure as Kawa began to languidly move, sliding in and out of her in an unhurried way. “Oooooh…” she moaned. “That’s nice, that’s so nice.” “So are you,” crooned Kawa, unperturbably. “Thankee,” purred Applejack, setting her legs a little farther apart. “Mmmm.” “This feels good?” he asked. “OHyeah,” moaned Applejack. “That’s nice.” “You wish many hours of it?” asked Kawa. “Huh? Aw, honey!” said Applejack. She tensed her pussy, to give him an affectionate squeeze. “I don’t need nothin’ like that! You kin start your Kirin work any time you like, I ain’t picky. You know I appreciate you doin’ me nice like this, but you don’t gotta go all night for me.” “As you wish,” said Kawa. “Well, I,” began Applejack, and then her eyes flew wide. “Oh MY!” Kawa’s cock had slid deeply up into her, without strain, but it hadn’t been that comfortable move that goaded her to cry out. It was the way his fizzing sensation suddenly doubled, tripled. It felt like something dramatic was going to happen inside her, though she couldn’t guess what. Applejack didn’t have to guess for long. A trickle of catalyzed, carefully managed magic began to emerge from Kawa’s stiffened cock. It dribbled across her secret flesh, and everywhere it touched, her nerves stood straight up and went ‘WOOHOO!’. “Oh… MY…” panted Applejack, feeling her vagina catch glowing, scintillating, heatless fire from the inside. The trickle became a surge. Then, a flood. It felt like taking a big stallion-load, the same gushing swelling sensation, but like a stallion-load composed of light and kitten moonbeams. “Oh my! Oh MY!” It filled Applejack up from womb to her lover’s flare, right to where it threatened to inflate her like a balloon, and left off right at that breath-taking point. She glanced back, frantically trying to see if her ass was luminous, what with being inflated by stardust or something. “Oh MY! Kawa!” moaned Applejack, trembling all over. Kawa gave a little frown of concentration, his horn lit up brightly… and he began to deliver tender little shoves with his hips, as if the mixture needed agitation in order to develop its results. Applejack stood that for about three seconds. “Sweet… apple… BUTTERRRR!” she squealed, and then there was no more coherent talking: Applejack shook all over, clenching frantically on Kawa’s deeply buried cock, barely maintaining her footing on the curious bed as she came her pretty tail off. From beside the bed, Yosuru’s horn lit as she tactfully steadied the shuddering earth pony: Kawa continued to concentrate, frowning slightly with effort, his hips tenderly churning the field of complicated force he wielded. As he concentrated, his hips were seen to steadily press harder and harder, never aggressively, but with obvious purpose. And, inside Applejack’s pony vagina, that flood of dexterous magic formed into Kirin intention and sought out pony ovums, and in its frictionless, viscosity-less way, slipped deeper and deeper into Applejack’s private parts. Into womb, filling it and coating every surface. Pressuring, nudging, pushing… all the way, until the palpable gush of magic that Kawa so insistently nudged, had penetrated all her tubes and secretest places. “AWFUCK! AHHH! GHHH!” As Applejack’s orgasms peaked, as her clenches and heaves hit their wildest rodeo capers, the convulsions of her pleasure-racked body compressed Kawa’s flood of living magic… and the slippery little tingle squirted through her fallopian tubes to reach pony ovums, and Kawa made his move. His horn flared blindingly as Applejack squealed, and patterns and calculations rushed through his mind. His magic seethed, nearly knocking her out with the sudden sensation of energy coursing through the weightless substance that filled her every crevice. “RRRRGGGHHBLLGGGHHHGGGBBBGHH! GUHHH! AHHH!” Yosuru’s magic shot forth, bearing a tissue. It wiped Applejack’s nose. Another wiped her brow. The blinding, coruscating radiance filled the room, as Yosuru watched carefully. Kawa’s horn at last subsided, and his head dropped. Inside Applejack, the pressure of living magic abruptly lessened. The mad tingle subsided, became manageable. Then, the magic itself began to withdraw, first from the sensitive private places that hadn’t experienced such treatment before (as horse-come was far more viscous), and then from her quivering womb and exhausted vagina. Kawa dismounted… and gasped. “Oh, NO!” Applejack shuddered, her nose bleeding, stunned like she’d been bucked in the head, clearly ready to faint. “Yosuru! Did I hurt her? I was focussing so hard!” Yosuru, supporting Applejack with her magic, frowned at Kawa. “Calm yourself! Do you know nothing of mares? Talk to her.” He trotted around to face Applejack, his mane and fetlocks shimmering with fretful magic. “Are you well? Speak to me!” Applejack’s dazed eyes slowly focussed on the vision of a fretful boy Kirin, prancing with dismay. “I hurt you!” he cried. In response, the obliterated mare in question shook her head, tossed her mane, gathered herself for a huge effort… …and grabbed his face in her forehooves, delivering a huge, earnest smooch right on his shocked muzzle. “That's how WE do it down on th’ farm!” announced Applejack triumphantly, and promptly fainted. Kawa stood there, astonished. “Kawa?” said Yosuru. Applejack started loudly snoring, a huge grin on her face. “Yes, Yosuru?” managed Kawa. “Come to bed.” Marvelling at the tenacity and spirit of the Ponyville heroic earth pony, Kawa carefully snuggled himself around Applejack’s snoring body, his mission accomplished. Truly, the natural world was filled with boundless wonders. Stay On TargetKichona scuffed at the grass with a hoof. “Come out of there, right now!” “Nooo!” came the reply. “What ever is the matter?” she begged. “We’re so close! Close to the mountains. And beyond them is Chowa, and that’s the capital!” Kichona fretted. “But… but we’re trying to go there! All the ponies said the wonderful musicians were heading for Chowa to perform, we want to see them play! What’s got into you?” “There will be Kirin, the most powerful Kirin!” wailed the overgrown, trembling shrub. “I’m sure I saw one racing across the skies!” Kichona’s lip quivered. She addressed the bush before her. “But YOU are a Kirin!” Daitana’s head poked miserably out of the bush. His lip quivered too, and his wonderful Kirin horn glimmered weakly, barely any glow left in it at all. “Not much of one,” he sniffled. “They’ll destroy me! I have failed in my duty, I am no Kirin at all…” Kichona’s eyes glistened. “Please, please come out of there. You’re not well. We must find help for you…” “Find me more of those lichens!” begged Daitana. “I’m sure there’s magic in them. I just know it’ll be all right if only we can find more of those glowing lichens and moss.” Kichona hesitated. “I will if you come out. And let me hug you,” she said. Daitana did. Days of living off the land had not helped his stamina. He wobbled, and the lichens hadn’t been much help. They did have magic, in a sense, but they also had many other curious effects and the hapless Kirin had raved ecstatically for five minutes and then thrown up. Worse, he’d thrown up magic as well as the bellyful of lichens, and it’d left him more starved than when he started. And Kichona was beginning to realize that a starving Daitana was even more wilful and unhinged than a half-starved Daitana. His gaze at her was seething with Kirin passion and desperate need, but it terrified her that he’d grown so passionate, because his strength was giving out and he’d become even more stubborn about not feeding from unicorns that weren’t his beloved. And then the paranoia set in… He cried, as she hugged him. She cried, as she felt his emaciation, his trembling. This wasn’t how love should go. “We’ll get there,” vowed Daitana. “We’ll hear the music. For you. Even if they destroy me.” “You’re not well,” repeated Kichona. His eyes were wild, fevered. “If I expire it shall be listening to the music we seek…” “Oh, poop on the music!” cried Kichona, tearfully. “Daitana, my love! Don’t you see…” “What was that?!?” gasped Daitana. “Was it a Kirin?” Her ears laid back, Kichona scanned the skies. “I don’t think so. I think it may have been a Weird Monster flying by! I’ve never seen one. If it was a Kirin, I would beg them for help. Perhaps it was. Help, help!” “Shh, quiet!” insisted Daitana. “What was that? In the bushes, no more than two hundred yards away!” “I didn’t hear anything,” said Kichona, more quietly. “Oh, Daitana!” “I thought I heard something. We must continue. We’ll have to go around the mountains, they’re impassable.” “If you were feeling better,” said Kichona, “you could go over them. You could do anything.” “Only our most enlightened Kirin, Daiyam, climbs to the top of those mountains,” said Daitana. “Kirin don’t do foolish things like that, even Daiyam goes there only to meditate in perfect solitude. Kirin can’t, especially not me.” “Why not?” asked Kichona, her lip quivering. “Because I am no Kirin,” said Daitana, his voice regaining the lilting cadances of Kirin formality for just a moment. “Kirin care for all ponies. That is their duty. I am lost. I love just one mare. My magic is gone. Indeed I don’t deserve it. I weaken. But before I expire, we will hear music!” He lay his head against Kichona’s neck, and she stared tragically into space, stroking his mane, so silky and soft but so quiet in the absence of its animating magic. She nodded. “Rest, my love. We’ll hear your music.” “YOUR music,” corrected Daitana, with an exhausted sigh. “My music,” agreed Kichona sadly. As she stared into space, her jaw set in determination, and her gaze grew angry and fierce. Perhaps, she thought, her beloved Kirin really was ceasing to be a Kirin. Perhaps he was right, that he would be in dreadful trouble if he was caught with her, so obsessed, so weak and debilitated. Perhaps she was bad for him. It was hard to think otherwise, as she watched him sicken and grow stranger by the day. But she would still pretend to seek that wonderful music, heard but once at a distance, and pursued ever after, across half of Neighpon. And it probably would lead them around the impassable mountains, and to the capital city of Chowa, where the musicians would perform for all the most enlightened Kirin. And then she’d get them to fix poor mad Daitana, even if it made him forget about her and resume life as a normal Kirin! “I love you,” breathed Daitana, and he went to sleep snuggling up against her, in the warm embrace of her comforting forelegs. Kichona gazed up at the mountains they’d be journeying around. Impassable, unattainable. Not fit for mortal pony. Beautiful and too big for one poor mare to reach, much less own. Much like… the love of a mad Kirin, one who sickened and grew pale and wan from the intensity of his infatuation. Kichona’s fierce glare softened. The beauty of the mountains felt very big, and she felt very small. “I think I will have to love you more,” she said, so quietly that Daitana could not hear. Two hundred yards away, Braeburn’s eyes were gleaming slits as he reconnoitered, ears pricked for any sound, his face camouflaged with two different colors of mud and his mane festooned with fresh leaves. He’d heard a mare call out ‘Help, help!’ but it hadn’t continued… and he was in no position to help anypony. He was sneaking his way across Neighpon to the capital city, because he’d heard the musicians were expected to perform there. If so, he would find Big Macintosh there… Princess, to him. And then? Braeburn’s eyes swam with tears. And then he would get one last kiss, perhaps, or he would beg, or… he wasn’t sure. He longed for Princess, but after days of skulking across the land, he longed for a simple pony hug, from just about anypony. He didn’t dare try and find one. All ponies were against him in this strange and beautiful place. They seemed so happy, but he’d become a terrifying spectacle, haunted and driven. Worse, he had become a violent and cruel horse: he still thought constantly of that poor swishy pegasus he’d clobbered. He hoped the poor little guy was okay, but there was no way to find out. Perhaps Moeru, so passionate and lusty, was dead because of his terrible fit of… what had he done? It wasn’t even temper, not really. He’d been about to mount the poor boy, staring at that brick-red bottom, and Moeru had crooned ‘love me’… and he’d flipped out. It hadn’t been Moeru’s fault that he was not Princess. It had been his fault, that he’d stopped being Braeburn for a terrible moment. And now he seemed condemned to be Braeburn again, Braeburn in the fullest extent of the word, a wild cowpony using all the talents of the long trail to evade capture by the posse. But there was no joy in it, because there was nowhere to flee to. Princess didn’t want him, and all the ponies in this land stood to betray him. He couldn’t trust even one of them, and he had to find his love and see Princess again while hiding in bushes literally all of the time. He’d never been such an outlaw, and the outlaw existence had never seemed so worthless in all his life. His crimes weren’t a matter of inflaming mare-ly passions, this time. He’d been goaded by passion into striking down an innoc… well, no, there weren’t nothin’ so innocent about that colt and his hunger for stallion cock, and if he was to be believed (and his tackle-capture of Braeburn had been impressive) he was a mighty capable boy. But on another level, how innocent he was, just wanting to take a prisoner and cheer that prisoner up with eager pegasus butthole embraces. Braeburn wiped a tear. He ought to have at least waited until the poor colt blew a massive load, and THEN clobbered h… no, that was ridiculous. Shouldn’ta left home, he thought. Not once ya got a home. Shouldn’ta kicked the place down and run off to Neighpon. It was too late now: he couldn’t possibly go back, he’d be caught for sure. Them pegasi were no joke. He didn’t dare get caught by one again. Or unicorns, or earth ponies even if they seemed sweet as anything… especially not the Kirin. He had to go forward, or he was lost. Somewhere around the mountains was the capital city. He’d been lucky enough to hear some conversations from ponies discussing where the musicians meant to go next, otherwise he’d be truly lost. Ha! He’d never stop bein’ lost. There was nothin’ left for him… but he had to see Princess again. There was no plan, there was no hope, not when Princess turned away and wouldn’t meet his eye… but all the same, he had to. Just had to. Braeburn faded away into the underbrush and foliage, and then nothing could see him at all. The delicate rustling of foliage resumed as the Sneaking Spy began to travel around the mountains, toward Chowa, though he did not know the way. “Big Macintosh! The speaker is crooked!” accused Octavia. “Settle down, Tavi!” snapped Vinyl Scratch. “He’ll fix it. Won’t you, Big Macintosh?” “Eyup,” reassured Big Macintosh, his ears laid back… because the speaker looked perfect to him, yet Octavia glared fretfully as if he’d left it pointing backwards. “Well, go on!” said the DJ unicorn. “Uhhh… remind me again, how ya wanted it?” “Arrgh!” cried Octavia, and jumped down from the little stage they’d been given. As they approached Chowa, the audiences became more numerous, the venues more impressive… and the musicians, more stressed and frantic. DJ Pon-3 gawked at her fellow performer. “Hey hey whoa WAIT STOP!” she whinnied. Octavia wrenched the speaker to the left, her teeth gritted, soft mare muscle bulging and straining… and then, Scratch was pulling her away, shades askew, a look of horror in her eyes. “You’re on in TEN MINUTES,” she insisted, “what are you DOING?” Octavia glowered, rubbing her foreleg. “Fixing the speakers.” “Look at you! You’re wincing! That is your bowing foreleg, Octavia!” “Well, if he didn’t aim it all wrong, probably on purpose to see if I was paying attention…” Big Macintosh gasped. “Nuh-uh! Ah never! Why would Ah do such a thing, Miss Octavia?” She was trembling, and glared at him again. “Oh, I’ve seen the look in your eyes. You don’t believe angles of a few degrees matter for the sound dispersal, and you get cross with me when I correct you more than five times, and you’re testing me, aren’t you?” “EeNOPE!” “Enough!” whinnied Vinyl Scratch. “Stop it, both of you! Octavia, go and rest your foreleg, you’re performing almost right away. Big Macintosh, you gotta trust us, we really do know what we’re doing with this music stuff…” “He has to keep up,” muttered Octavia. “He’s got to. He can’t be the weak link.” “Oh my GAWWD Tavi, seriously? Him, weak? Fucking look at him, okay? Let him do his job,” said Scratch. “I mean it. Believe that I mean every word I say right now.” Octavia’s lip quivered. “So do I.” Scratch gave her a hard stare. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been getting harsher and harsher with the poor big lunk, and I want to know why.” Octavia wouldn’t look directly at her old friend… and then, suddenly, she did. “Because Michian was as good as his word. It cost you a lot to lay him, and you did, and he set things up so we’re going straight to Chowa to play for the most important ponies and Kirin in all Neighpon. And I’m not going to let anything fuck that up for you, Scratchie. This is for you.” Vinyl Scratch stared back, her shades askew, her eyes wide. “B… but, first of all you promised you weren’t gonna talk about him again especially right before a gig, what the fuck is WRONG with you Tavi, and second of all he never gave me any word about anything…” “It’s obvious,” said Octavia, a little more gently. “Look at us. Just this one more gig, and then we have to rush around this mountain range so we can reach Chowa. They’re all expecting us. Why would they even care, otherwise? He came through, Scratchie. You won. Now we have to follow through. Now we have to do it.” Vinyl gulped, trying to compose herself. “Don’t we?” said Octavia, gentler still. “Tavi.” “Yes, dear Scratchie?” “You are on in seven minutes. Get ready.” Octavia’s eyes flashed with courageous determination. She gave DJ Pon-3 a salute, then jumped back on stage, preparing for her duties as opening act. “We’ll be good,” promised Big Macintosh. “I kin stand her running around like she got a cooter full of bees.” Vinyl gulped again. “Yeah. Do that. I’ll talk to her. Maybe that’s her problem, I can’t imagine why she’s not blowing off steam with locals. I could use some of that, but I gotta think of something to add to the show for Chowa, put it over the top. We don’t have anything, we’ve just got us. And you, I mean, we’ve got you as well.” “Do ya want a nice lil’ pony hug, ma’am?” “No!” snapped Vinyl. “Not right now! I gotta focus. I mean, sorry, I really do have to focus. I think you’re done for the day, just be there in the morning because we’ve got to start good and early for the trip around the mountains.” “Yes, ma’am!” replied Big Macintosh, looking dismayed. His DJ boss looked really fried, but even as he watched he saw her pulling it together, raising her chin, straightening her rose-colored trademark shades: putting on the armor of DJ Pon-3, because she was on after Octavia finished, and she wasn’t about to blow it. When Octavia faced the crowd, cello in hoof, and greeted them with a toss of her mane and a flourish of her bow… the roar that went up seemed as large as all their previous gigs rolled together. She hadn’t played a note. It was in anticipation of what was about to transpire. It really did seem like Michian had put the word out: this tour was not to be missed. Vinyl Scratch flinched at the ravenous cheering, and her eyes were bleak and scared behind the shades as the applause cut off instantly with a gesture from Octavia. The first notes oozed out of the meticulously positioned speakers: the speakers that would first caress the crowd with cello, and then thump, rock and hump them with heavy beats and bass drops when it was the turn of DJ Pon-3 to live up to the hype. The crowd listened, rapt, as the evening started. DJ Pon-3 took a deep breath, as Big Macintosh quietly skulked off to watch the crowd from the side of the stage. He was scanning the crowd, trying to work out what his chances were of getting in some unicorn practice without too much crazy, when… There! Suddenly, he was standing straight and tall, staring like a madpony at a gap in the crowd. There’d been a glimpse of something that jolted him to the core. Suddenly, he was trotting through hordes of awed ponies, even as they danced to DJ Pon-3’s big climatic finale. He didn’t even know what he was doing, he butted ponies aside with his massive chest, looking this way and that… There it was again! He hadn’t been imagining it! But… not… It was a lovely sandy-colored rump, sure. And a fine, ruddy-blonde tail, with a hint of cowpony raggedyness, no mistaking that. And, yes, he saw a cutie mark and it was a big red juicy apple. But the green eyes that looked back at him… and even that detail matched! But it wasn’t him. He was looking at a Neighponnese mare. An earth pony. Looking? He was staring at her like she was the answer to all his dreams. And why was he doing that, when she wasn’t Hina and wasn’t even Braeburn, wonderful Braeburn who’d taught him so much? The unicorns tended to be little. Neighponnese ponies in general tended to be little. This mare wasn’t so little as all that. Her size wasn’t so far off the size of Braeburn, or a typical Ponyville pony. She blinked at him, undaunted. “Well, look at you!” she cried, over the thunder of the music. “Have we met?” “Who are yuh?” gasped Big Macintosh. She batted her eyelashes, and smiled. “I’m Fuji,” she said, and the last beat dropped. The concert was over, still reverberating out of the hills as ponies all around them cheered and hugged. Big Macintosh gawked. He realized his mouth was hanging open. That wasn’t all that was hanging. Mares all around, and at least five of the stallions, were gawking at the rest of him. Fuji didn’t gawk, she just smiled. “Did you come over here just to look at me?” she said, playfully. “I wouldn’t mind. For once I’m not the big pony. I enjoy looking at you, too.” “I have a better idea!” squeaked a little violet mare, trotting up. “Back off, Atsui!” squealed the sandy-colored, russet-maned, Braeburn-alike. “It’s not fair! Anyway, you’d have to go see the Kirin after, so there!” “You’d have to see the Kirin,” accused Atsui, “because nopony will lay you and you’re probably fertile!” Fuji stuck out her lower lip. “I saw the Kirin already. I had a feeling I might get lucky. And I meant, go and get your vagina repaired afterward, foolish mare!” “Yay!” squeed Atsui, predictably, with a cute poing into the air. “No, I mean it!” urged Fuji. She gave the smaller, more delicate mare a hug. “Be good. At least let me have my chance? It’s been such a long time, even to try it.” “Well, if you groomed your mane nicely…” retorted Atsui, hugging her friend back. “No!” Both turned, startled, to look at Big Macintosh. The objection had been his. “Ah mean… I like it,” he said. He began to blush. Fuji began to blush, and grin. Atsui snickered, and whacked the larger mare on the withers with a hoof. “See what else he likes! That’s fair. See ya!” She trotted off quite happily, and Big Macintosh stared blushingly at this curiously large, bulky, tousled mare. She had to look away, finally. “I don’t, you know. Groom my mane, I mean. All the girls tell me I should. There doesn’t seem to be a point, and there’s always so much work to be done…” He gulped, unable to stop staring. “Reminds me of somepony, that’s all.” Her eyes flew wide. “All? Oh, no! Darn it, I thought… fine, if that’s how it must be. I hope it’s a good somepony?” Then she glanced under him, and hit him with an eyes-narrowed gaze. “You’ve not even told me who you are, and I hope that’s not all. Your dangura says it’s more than just reminding you of somepony.” “Oh! Ah’m sorry, ma’am, where are my manners? I’m Big Macintosh.” “Appropriate,” purred Fuji. “I’m pleased to meet you. You’re staring at my flank, and I’m used to that speaking only of my livelihood, not of pleasure.” She bit her lower lip, cutely, her ears laid slightly back in trepidation. “Do you… like it?” “Livelihood?” asked Big Macintosh. “I’m a farmer pony,” said Fuji. “I grow a special kind of apple.” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Dang. Guess it’s a good thing you ain’t got three apples on your butt or it’d be a whole other kinda creepy…” “It’s not creepy!” exclaimed Fuji, stamping a hind hoof. The taut supple jounce of her muscular rump brought Big Macintosh’s dangling stallionhood up to slap against his belly. That, plus she’d been flicking her tail about excitedly, and it flew like a russet flag in the gentle evening breeze. “They’re the best apples, you’d better not have a problem with farmers or I’ll…” “No, no!” exclaimed Big Macintosh. Fuji quieted, staring at his cock, her ears perked forward in great interest. He continued, “Ah’m a farmer myself! What’s more, an apple farmer!” Fuji licked her lips. “Oooh. Well then. Mister Macintosh, care to plant some apple seeds?” She hastily added, “Just for sport, you know! I won’t require anything else of you, we just do this for fun. Or they do, I don’t do it much. Um… do ponies have sex for fun where you come from? I don’t really know. I don’t want to offend, I’d just really like to. Really.” Big Macintosh sniffed the air, wrinkled his lip in appreciation, grinned at her. “Twist my hoof, why don’t ya. I mean, yeah! It’s jes’ a saying. Means ‘yes’. Lead the way, we’ll go back to your house and git private.” Her eyes widened. “What?” “You know, lead me to…” “I’m a farm pony, Mister Macintosh! I’m only an earth pony. I share a farm house with eight other mares, all of them cuter and daintier than me… or that’s what they’d tell you. What is ‘private’? Why would I lead you someplace like that?” “Um,” said Big Macintosh, “y’know, go off somewheres and have sex an’ all…” Fuji rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to be seen with me, of course.” “Naw, it ain’t nothin’ like that!” protested Big Macintosh. “Honey, Ah love the whole look of ya, from that fine toned rump to that there wild prairie mane, I tell you I’m proud ta tap that ass… exceptin’ that maybe you’ll like it better up the hoo-ha an’ not the patootie…” “Look around,” instructed Fuji. He did. At least six pairs of ponies were quietly and happily copulating around them, all at a polite distance so as not to be distracting. One pair was actually a threesome of stallions, with an extra one sucking from below. One of the couples contained Atsui, who called out, “Go for it, Fuji!” before her eyes rolled back in her head in bliss, testament to the pleasures of the slim but muscular pegasus who’d mounted and entered her. Big Macintosh looked back at Fuji. She smirked at him, with a coy angling of her head, and then trotted away a short distance, with Big Macintosh following close behind. Her gait was springy and healthy and fine, like the farm ponies he knew… in fact, dern it, she had a flank nearly as potent as his beloved sister, though it felt less disturbin’ to think of it as a flank to rival ol’ Braeburn’s, he’d just be enterin’ a bit lower… “It’s okay!” squeaked Fuji, darted forward, and hugged him. “I’m not making fun of you, if you’re shy that’s okay! Don’t cry! I’m sorry if I’m not attractive, but it’d mean so much!” “Ah’m not, I mean you’re fine,” began Big Macintosh, and wiped his eyes. “Sorry. Been workin’ real hard, an’ thinking of stuff I shouldn’t think about.” Fuji hugged him harder. “Don’t be sad. I want to make you happy, Mister Macintosh. And I really could use this, okay? I never get laid, I’m not pretty.” “Mrrf,” went Big Macintosh into her neck, as he hugged back. “What?” He hugged tighter, and spoke clearly. “Th’ hell you ain’t. Miss Fuji, you’re a hot hunk o’ mare, and it is my honor.” “Oooh…” she breathed, in amazement and a little disbelief. “Don’t even go no farther,” he said. “Let ‘em watch.” “Oooh!” squeed Fuji. She pranced for a moment like a filly, and her fine muscled body gleamed in the evening light… and then, Big Macintosh reared and clasped that supple rump against his belly, and began to trot and position himself. She arched her neck against his in delight, and let out a wild whinny as he prodded her pussy, and then with a deft shove of his powerful hips, he’d poked his expanding flare into her and she clamped down excitedly upon him. She was silky-slick and the closest thing to his scale he’d had since he came to Neighpon… yet, he didn’t start pounding her, didn’t ram boldly to her gizzards like some maddened colt’s first fucking. He was, after all, the greatest stud-pony of Ponyville and its environs, and he’d been trained by… well, by somepony whose absence hurt his heart dreadfully, if he was honest. He’d been trained by a pony who looked just like this mare in so many ways. As a sort of homage, as an act of expiation, as the nearest thing to an apology he was going to ever see, he began to make love to Fuji as if she was that pony he’d lost, as if it somehow could heal his hurts just by dealing with this mare the way he knew he could. Fuji’s eyes grew wider and wider, as she felt the massive, potent hard-on begin to explore her vagina with ingenuity and tenderness, moving in a way she’d never felt… swelling to breathtaking girth… and lasting, lasting so astonishingly long, like no other stallion had ever done inside her. She began to whimper with pleasure, against the faint squelching noises her pussy made. She gave a breathy squeal, clenching upon him in an orgasm that dizzied her, and then the squelching was a lot louder, for she’d gushed with lube and all he did was deepen his stroke, taking advantage of the lubrication. Other ponies began to drift over, fascinated, including a post-coital Atsui and her pegasus lover. They watched, faces alight with happiness, keeping very quiet and still to not disturb the scene. Fuji jolted harder and began to pant and wriggle, tensing her buttocks again and again, bearing down on that ridiculously girthy shaft. Some of the watching mares had eyes bigger than the horsecock those eyes devoured. Some of the ears, both mare and stallion, were laid back in alarm, just thinking about what that had to feel like. They stared back and forth between the big strong farm pony mare, and the stallion who straddled her and made her look, if not small, then in scale. Their awe was obvious. Big Macintosh shut his eyes, and kept on lovingly balling the mare with a Ponyville body and colors like his lost Braeburn. He clasped her closer, feeling his climax impending, and his cock swelled up enthusiastically in the snug muscular confines of a fine healthy mare like the mares back home. Fuji began to emit little shrieks, oddly fillyish, staring up into the evening sky as if witnessing something impossible and miraculous there. Her whole body began to shiver and quake in his embrace. Big Macintosh gritted his teeth. “RNGH!” “YEEEE!” screamed Fuji, her body rigid with shock. Just as she’d begun to really climax, a weighty load of horse-spooge had blasted through Big Macintosh’s cock, uncompressed by the challenges of dainty undersized and overambitious vaginas… and it had all slammed into her cervix and flooded her womb in a single heavy blorp. He’d given just enough of a shove to pop all her corks and seal himself firmly against leakage, and then he’d flooded her like a tsunami of farmpony. She collapsed forward, and as Big Macintosh frantically tried to avoid toppling onto her, five cheering mares sprang forward to support their companion. “Yay! Yay, Fuji!” cried Atsui. “You did it!” “She’s beautiful!” cried another. “She’s not frigid or uptight at all! She came!” “Uh, uh,” sputtered Big Macintosh. They were holding him up as well. Then, the whole crowd eased them forward, and Fuji sprawled, ass in the air, horsecock still buried in her vagina, and her face pressing the grass: eyes half-lidded in postcoital stunnedness, and tongue cutely lolling. “Yay!” repeated Atsui. “We love you, Fuji! Now we know what you need!” “Since when can we find a dangura to fit her?” protested another mare. “It was not just that!” said Atsui’s pegasus. “I watched. He went for amazingly long, like a fucking hero! I know a guy who will take on the challenge. I will try myself! We will learn to please Fuji, now that we know how. The rewards are great. Did you see her eyes?” “Uh, scuse me!” protested Big Macintosh. The pegasus turned, smiling, to face him. “And you are that hero. If it does not hurt you too much, stay there! This is a wonderful night.” “No,” squealed a mare. “Me next!” “No, me!” In alarm, Big Macintosh squirmed away, popping juicily out of Fuji, who splatted bonelessly onto the ground surrounded by most of the celebrating mares. “I better get movin’,” he said, “before th’ Kirin comes to scold me some more!” All the ponies blinked, astonished. “Why?” said one. “Well, ya see,” stammered Big Macintosh, “my experiences with ponies here keep being a lil’ too exciting, and some of y’alls ladies ain’t exactly the type to fill me with confidence…” “Yay!” squeaked a bouncing, petite earth pony mare. Big Macintosh recoiled, and ran for it. The assembled ponies blinked at each other, their ears back. “I think you scared him, Dekinai,” said the pegasus. “I think he expected you to demand his dangura.” The itty-bitty pony gasped. “No, that was Hirobiro demanding some! Not me, why would I ask that? He would split me in two!” “Of course it was me!” said the mare in question. “You know how much I like huge cock! Curse it, it would have been so incredible!” “Be good, Hirobiro,” chided Dekinai. “The important thing is that Fuji found love.” “Yes,” said the pegasus. “I promise, I will make it my mission to find her that combination of dangura and stamina she needs. To think we overlooked her, all this time!” Dekinai made an itty-bitty grumpy face. “Be fair to yourself too. She used to complain and insist that she was unloveable, too large and crude, a mere farm worker pony without beauty. I’ve seen you try and flirt, and be put off by this.” Fuji stirred. “…’m sorry…” The pegasus leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t worry. Now we know the truth of you, beautiful strong mare.” “Yay!” squeed tiny Dekinai, once more. “Why did the amazing giant horse think Kirin would come here?” wondered Atsui. “I don’t know,” said the pegasus. “We’re not foolish ponies, we don’t hurt ourselves or others. Why would Kirin need to come when we aren’t problem ponies that need their attention?” He blinked. “But… Dekinai, if that titanic dangura wedged into you, you would need all the Kirin to rescue your suberi-yasui-men. I know, and you know, that you would not attempt anything so painful and foolish. Why, then, did you cry ‘yay’ and frighten the giant horse?” She blinked, smiling at him. “Because I would get to watch him fuck Hirobiro?” And then, there was nothing but laughing ponies hugging, and good cheer. “Oh my GAWWWD honey, I’m so looking forward to this,” crooned Vinyl Scratch. The subject of her attentions blushed and smiled a great big eye-crinkling grin. He was a white earth pony stallion, with a greying brown mane and tail. He sported a little goatee, and though he was taller than the great DJ Pon-3, otherwise unremarkable. He did wear little glasses, but it was as much practicality as affectation: he had difficulty reading things close up. It wasn’t his looks that had captivated the great DJ. Nor was it an enormous horsecock, for he didn’t have that. It was all right, mind you: nothing to sneer at, but hardly a record-setter. It was simply this: Hasu came from Shido, in the Nairiku-bu province of Neighpon. He lived there still, and was returning from a business trip to Chowa. One more day, and he’d have returned to Shido, unknowing. And that was where Vinyl Scratch came from. Vinyl snuggled him, and he hugged back warmly. His eyes had gone very wide behind his little glasses when he finally recognized Vinyl behind her DJ Pon-3 shades, and after the gig he’d shyly made his way to the stage where Pon-3 was holding court among a gaggle of starstruck ponies panting for her attention, or indeed attentions. She’d stared, frowning, at him for ten seconds before lighting up like a Hearth’s Warming decoration and squealing “HASUUU!” and pouncing him. From that moment on, the hapless starfucker ponies were doomed to just wander off in pairs and threes, because Vinyl Scratch had glommed onto some sort of old nerdpony and wouldn’t even let go. It wasn’t even a sexy glom, at first: Vinyl had a million questions about back home, which Hasu was delighted to answer. Things were well in Shido, and Vinyl hugged him again and again in delight, hearing how her other old friends were thriving. The blushing and grinning began on both sides when Hasu’s body responded, noticeably, to the rubbing, nuzzling presence of an affectionate, excited mare. They’d fucked, back in the day. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, though it’d been nice. He’d been fixated on his reading, indeed had become a bookseller in Shido. She had been chosen by the Kirin… and had then pursued her destiny. Neither had thought twice about their parting of the ways. As Hasu’s modest horsecock pressed against Vinyl’s belly, it brought with it intense memories of a simpler time… and he’d been entirely willing to revisit the old times. “Trust me, it’ll be a thousand times better,” teased Vinyl. “I’ve been doing exercises for years. I can’t wait to show you! I’m kind of amazing now, you’ll see. Uh, I mean feel.” “You’re silly,” replied Hasu, with a snuggle. “No, seriously…” “No, seriously,” retorted Hasu. He touched his nose to hers, peered over the little glasses. “Vinyl, nothing you do could be better than you already are. I was a virgin colt when you led me off to the quiet place in the orchard, west of town. I didn’t know what to do, and you helped, but the special thing was this: you were so happy. I know I can’t have had much skill, but it felt so good… and I could tell in my bones that it made you feel good too. We shared that.” Vinyl’s eyes widened, drinking him in. “Ever after,” said Hasu, “I’ve had a piece of that freedom. I can tell by how you are now, that you’ve never lost it. Heck, you’re proud to show me what you’ve learned! Sounds great, let’s do it. But know this: you were always more than enough, and thinking about you has always made me feel good.” Her lip quivered, and then she’d smushed it against his in a fervent kiss. “Me too,” she insisted. “I mean, I wasn’t a virgin, it’s not like that, but DUDE you know I always think back on it with like total fondness, I want you to know that, not even making it up even though I’ve had like miles of dick since then…” Hasu chuckled. “Well, I don’t have miles of dick, Vinyl. Same old Vinyl, lusty filly!” “Same old Hasu, everything’s funny!” retorted Vinyl, her eyes dancing. “Would you like another foot or so, milady?” teased Hase. “Every little bit helps.” “I’m gonna give you the works,” promised Vinyl. “And you know what? I’m gonna love it, you have no idea how good it felt to see you again. Oh my GAWWWD Hasu, seriously!” “Oh my GAWWWWD Vinyl Scratch,” he said, and winked from behind the little glasses… for that was what he’d said so many years ago, when she’d propositioned him. And she’d said it back, mimicking his little saying, and added, “I’m going to make you mean that when you say it to me!” And so she had, and even picked up the curious phrase. “But right now I gotta check on something,” she said, turning aside. Hasu didn’t even blink. “Of course. What’s up?” “Besides you?” teased Vinyl. “Put that on hold, I still want it. There was some trouble with my roadie and my opening act, before the show. I want to be sure they’re not fighting. I’d lend you to her, but she’s acting funny and I’m selfish and want you all to myself.” He chuckled. “Granted.” “Before I spotted you, I’m sure I saw Big Macintosh balling some pony out in the field. If he went home with her… gah!” Vinyl jumped back. She’d stepped around the side of the PA speaker, only to discover that Big Macintosh himself was hiding behind it. “What happened, Big Macintosh? Is something wrong?” “Wrong?” blurted Big Macintosh. “Ah’m tryin’ to make my mind up between wrong and wronger and wrongest!” Vinyl heaved a sigh. “Talk to me. What’s up? Do we have to skip town again?” “That’s jes’ it,” moaned Big Macintosh. “Ah’m afraid the wrongest thing might be, we don’t!” Vinyl boggled. She took a deep breath, glancing at Hasu, turning again to her recalcitrant roadie. “Okay, spill it.” Big Macintosh gulped, a look of pitiable distress on his face, and tried to gather his cumbersome, plodding ideas. “I reckon I ought to be practicin’ on unicorns to feed up my Kirin love for when I finally find her, but I did a dumb thing, like even dumber than fuckin’ pegasus mares. I done fucked an earth pony mare, right over there. And that can’t be right ’cos I ought to be the best I kin be at makin’ unicorns squirt, no offence since I know you got upset over bein’ a big failure pony at that, but it jes’ goes to show I gotta do better than you, but I don’t mean on you ‘cos you don’t do th’ road crew though I gotta wonder if I’d been there mebbe I coulda helped, to get you to squirt enough that is, but the thing is, I been fuckin’ a passel of ponies and sometimes gittin’ chased out of town by Kirin, but I proper knocked this pony over and there ain’t no Kirin comin’ to help her. An’ they came to help all the unicorns and pegasuses an’ such. Miss Vinyl, don’t the Kirin love earth ponies the same as the fancy magic ponies? ‘Cos there ain’t no Kirin helpin’ the mare I fucked, an’ she fell right over. An’ then the little bitty fillies keep wantin’ to wreck themselves on my dick.” He stared, plainitively, at his boss. She stared back at him as if he’d repeatedly kicked her in the head, until Hasu gently touched her withers. Her jaw had dropped, and it would take a while before she could even begin to think about reeling it in. Where the fuck would she even start? Kicking HIM in the head repeatedly would not help the tour. And it would bring Kirin, for legitimate reasons and not his mad kaleidoscope of demented and insulting notions. Vinyl gulped. “Hold that thought,” she ordered. “I need to go check on Octavia.” And then she was off, with Hasu running to keep up, then catching her. “Vinyl! Sweet! What is this madness?” She paused, tearfully. “Exactly! Shut up, just shut up, I gotta find my opening act. Maybe she can talk sense into him? I can’t even, I so totally can’t even…” “That wasn’t nice,” said Hasu darkly. “Aside from saying horrible things about Kirin, what he suggested about you…” “Ya THINK?” wailed Scratch. “Shut up shut up, I need Octavia, I can always count on Octavia to be an oasis of sanity no matter how strange things get. I know she was going to scout around for food we could take on the road, she probably went back to our cart…” Vinyl slowed, fell silent. The cart was there, and in a sense food was there, but the manner of consuming it seemed unusual. Octavia was just behind the cart and hadn’t heard them. She was somewhat distracted. The manner of her distraction was also unusual. She took the form of a tripod-pony: five-legged, with two forelegs down between her two hindlegs positioning a third leg where legs did not normally go. It was leg-sized, but it was actually a titanic daikon radish. Octavia, shaking, balanced atop it, dead-centered against her pussy, and leaned harder and harder upon the thing. Her mane was ragged, her eyes clamped shut as she focussed her attention on the appallingly unforgiving intrusion into her tender femaleness, and sought to balance her full weight upon it. Hasu grabbed Vinyl in alarm, recognizing the scope of Octavia’s problem, his mouth in a comical down-turn of dismay. He began to take a breath to speak, but then froze in total horror. Octavia’s weight was bountiful. Mare flesh could not long resist the pressure she wilfully imposed upon herself. There was an almost audible creaking as the blunt end of the daikon radish pried Octavia open. Gravity did its terrifying work, and Hasu clung to Vinyl in horror as the lovely, brilliant cellist sank down onto her massive vegetable, her tail thrashing in obvious agony, her teeth gritting, her whole body shuddering and quaking incoherently as inch after inch of radish torturously penetrated her… Octavia, reeling in pain, came to rest with her butt against the grass, the entire huge radish rammed up her tortured vagina. She lifted her head, and screamed. “STOUT HEARRRRT!” Octavia fell over, twitching, her eyes rolling back in her head as she surrendered to continuous orgasm. Hasu and Vinyl Scratch stared at each other, appalled. “Just… can’t… even…” moaned Vinyl, and clung to her old friend desperately. He frowned, thinking. “What can I do to help?” he whispered, over the orgiastic moans of Octavia clenching on her stout radish in the grass nearby. Scratch glanced up at him, shocked, as if she’d just realized something. Some way to the east, a peculiar creature made its way to a cave in the side of a mountain. It was a relatively insigificant mountain compared to the amazing mountain range that faced them, but it did offer some shelter, and getting out of sight was important. Scouting pegasi could be anywhere. The Weird Monster made camp for the night, flying into the cave with multi-colored wings and landing in a heap of three pegasi and a unicorn. They hadn’t needed to fight again, and that was a mercy: this costume seemed much worse than the last. It had more decorations on it and was fuzzier, but without some tailoring it wouldn’t allow the Weird Monster to spit out a flailing pegasus filly by way of self-defense, and the heavier material risked muffling Sweetie Belle’s deadly squeaks. It didn’t matter. They’d found shelter, and concealment. “It’s fucking cold!” griped Scootaloo. “Yeah, sorry, it’s a hiding place!” retorted Rainbow Dash. “That’s because it’s part of the way up these mountains. We can be nice and warm if we stay down where the ponies are and let them catch us!” “Nooo!” wailed Sweetie Belle. “They’re so fierce, I’m scared! They totally tried to kill the other costume we were in! Please let us stay here?” “Of course we are,” said Flight Lightning. “Good find, Dash. These must be the mountains Sweetie told us about, huh?” “Must be,” said Dash. “The capital city, Choad, is past this mountain range. I was looking out the eye-holes, and this has to be it.” “Are we gonna fly over the mountains?” asked Scootaloo. “Shyeah right!” scoffed Dash. “Not in that costume! Probably not at all. Those are insanely high mountains! It’s not just really cold, like even worse the higher you go, but the air gets bad. It’s all thin and doesn’t work very well. Once I tried to see how high up I could get by rainbooming vertically, and it was a really REALLY bad idea, okay? The air got all fucked up and there was this blue line around the world and then I was trying to breathe but it hurt and I started to pass out… it really sucked, I didn’t try that one twice. These mountains might not be as high as that, but they’re obviously bad news. All snow and rock and shit. Nothing can live up there.” “But then what are we gonna do?” wailed Scootaloo. “Hey, easy, sport,” said Rainbow Dash, blinking at the sudden burst of angst. “We go around, of course. That’s what ya do when you hit a mountain range so bad you’d die if you tried to fly over it. And I’m telling you, there aren’t many mountain ranges like that. I’m actually glad I got to see this one, it’s severely badass. What’s got you so upset?” Scootaloo’s lip quivered, even when Flight Lightning’s eyes narrowed to see it. She wouldn’t look at her Mom, or at Rainbow Dash, but she did speak. “M… my Dad’s out there.” “Oh, for pony’s sake, Scoot…” began Flight Lightning. “No, listen!” begged Scootaloo. Tears were in her eyes. “It’s so hard. We’re, like, here because my Dad d… didn’t want to be with me, with us, anymore. He came to this place, and he’s chasing Big Macintosh, and Sweetie thinks they’ll end up in Chowa the capital because they’re performers and like star musicians and stuff and…” “Scootaloo, so help me…” gritted Flight Lightning. Looking guiltily at her Mom, Scootaloo toned it down a notch, by sheer force of will. She didn’t blubber, her lip did not quiver… but she insisted on finishing the thought that so haunted her. “What if Dad tries to go over the mountains, and he dies?” Her answer wasn’t in words. Rainbow Dash reached over, and hugged her. Scootaloo stood it for a few seconds, and then sobbed and buried her face in Dash’s chest, weeping as silently as she could. Dash kept an eye on Flight Lightning, who looked pissed, and gave what comfort she could. “No way, okay, kiddo? Braeburn’s way smarter than that. There’s no telling where those mountain passes lead, could be avalanches, snow, and you know he’s a cowpony, right? Since when does he go and play in snow? More than that, since when does Braeburn go anywhere straight? Of course he’s going to go around! That’s way sneakier to do and you know it!” Scootaloo sniffled. “You think so?” “I know it,” asserted Rainbow Dash. “Even we aren’t going to try and go over. That’s crazy, nothing sane would be up there. Now, I get that Big Macintosh is being crazy but he’s a big softie, he’s gonna go around too. And there’s no way Braeburn would be up there.” Scootaloo still looked tragic. Rainbow Dash cast about for more to say, and found it. “And you’re wrong, you know. You said Braeburn didn’t want you. It’s not like that. He got caught up in his feelings about Big Macintosh, we’re all sure about that. It was obvious. Well, you can call that love, and maybe he does, but there’s all kinds of love. I’ve had most of them so I know. I know how Braeburn feels, because there was a time when I thought I’d lost Applejack, and… that wasn’t good. I totally understand how Braeburn feels.” Scootaloo sniffled, unconsoled. Flight Lightning glowered, tense as a knot, saying nothing. “But,” said Dash, “love is also what you do for others and with others. It’s made up of all the little dumb personal stuff which adds up to a big romantic thing, and it can’t be resisted. I don’t mean just the big desperate stuff that Braeburn’s feeling. That’s distracted him from what the rest of love is. And if Big Macintosh is after the Kirin, he’s lost sight of it too. Hey, check it out: we’re used to saying Big Macintosh’s whole name. Why? Because he doesn’t like it if we just say Mac, he says, ‘Ah don’t have many syllables, leave me th’ ones in mah name’. Right? And we do, we’re used to it. That’s love.” Rainbow Dash hugged Scootaloo, and kept talking. “We have to find Braeburn, and show him the shape of his world. He’ll snap out of it. He’s got to, or it’ll become this line of lovelorn ponies chasing the ones they can’t have! And we need to find Big Macintosh and show HIM the shape of his world too, because he’s an idiot!” “Are you done?” said Flight Lightning. “Are you mad?” said Scootaloo to her, miserably. “Don’t worry about it,” said Flight Lightning, not meeting her eye. “It’s been a fucking long day. I’m not mad. It’s just hard.” “Scootaloo?” said Sweetie Belle gently. She gave Flight Lightning a dirty look, and began leading Scootaloo off to a corner of the cave. “Come cuddle, Scootaloo.” Rainbow Dash was looking critically at Flight Lightning. “Yeah… Sweetie? Around that corner. It’s safe, I don’t smell anything in here but rocks and cold and snow. Give us some space, please.” “You’re going to need it!” sniffed Sweetie Belle. Without further argument, she led Scootaloo around the corner, her own terror and dismay forgotten once she could comfort her special somepony. Dash continued to gaze at Flight Lightning. After the younger mares were out of sight, she said, “They’re gone.” “Thanks,” said Flight Lightning. “Am I reading too much into this?” “Doubt it.” “How much do you need a hug of your own, Lightning?” “Very badly,” said Flight Lightning, in the exact same clipped and dispassionate tone. “You got it.” With that, Rainbow Dash scooched over, and hugged her tense pegasus companion, who stared angrily at nothing. “Soooo…” began Dash quietly. “Which thing did she say that caused this?” Flight Lightning’s glare worsened. “Oh, I could kill her. So not fair.” “Yeah, but say it. C’mon, Flight. This is, like, old Flight Lightning behavior. Spit it out, don’t just sit there hating.” “Yeah,” said Flight Lightning. “She s… said t… said…” Rainbow Dash cuddled her a little closer. “Said… he didn’t wanna be with meeeee…” Flight Lightning broke, in total, grim silence. Her words trailed off, her eyes swam with tears, and she turned to Rainbow Dash and clung like a drowning mare, desperately tight. Dash hugged back, real hard, and marveled at her journeying companion: veteran Weather Patrol, tough as nails, single mother for so many years, and then Flight Lightning was herself lost to love. Having found Braeburn again, she’d been obsessed and with the help of many other ponies had brought the notorious outlaw back to Ponyville, to lavish with affection and rather wild family life, a boyfriend and a father to the foal he’d planted in her. And then, all at once, Braeburn had thrown over that whole life and gone in mad pursuit of his own romantic obsession, abandoning all the other forms of love that had flooded his life. And in this cold and empty cave, listening to her daughter sniffle the unthinkable, Flight Lightning’s heart had broken into jagged shards, and nothing was left her but bitterness and pain. And… Rainbow Dash, who had hunted outlaw ponies before. “Listen,” she said intensely to Flight, who shuddered in her silent emotional agonies. “That’s wrong. You’re not a kid, listen. You know that’s bullshit.” “Fuck… fuck… Dash, he kicked his house down…” “Didn’t kick you, did he?” retorted Dash. “I mean it, listen. You should understand, you and me both know how that kind of thing goes. Just because he’s lost his stupid mind doesn’t mean anything. You knew all the time, if Big Macintosh ran away, Braeburn would flip. What did you do, when Braeburn ran? Same fucking thing. I would do the same for Applejack. You can’t go by that kind of dramatic stuff. Give him a chance to remember who he is. He isn’t giving himself that chance.” “He isn’t?” muttered Flight Lightning, into Dash’s chest, locked in a tight hug. “We’re gonna get them all back,” vowed Dash. “Do you believe me?” Flight opened an eye. It was tearful, yet still angry. “You fucking cirrus-brain, Dash.” “Do you believe me?” Flight heaved a big, quavery sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I believe you.” “Because it’s true?” “Because you’re just the cirrus-brain to do it,” said Flight Lightning. Dash hugged her again, kissed the tears away from her eyes. “Because you’re gonna help me. Aren’t you?” “Idiot.” Dash shook her. “Aren’t you? I can’t do it alone. I have you, right? Full on, bad-ass, no prisoners Flight Lightning?” Flight Lightning gave Rainbow Dash a glare, one that adequately expressed the cruelty of Dash demanding a heroic performance from a broken-hearted, despairing mare who’d been rejected by the idiot fool love of her life. It was a hell of a glare, one to terrify weaker ponies. The corner of her mouth twitched up, and Dash’s heart sang to see it. “Fuck yes, I’m going to help you.” Flight Lightning snuggled up, and allowed her fellow badass pegasus pony to cuddle her to sleep. As Dash herself drifted off for the night, she repeated it to herself like a mantra… “We’re gonna get them back.” “Oh, hello, Big Macintosh. Ready for bed?” said Octavia. “Ah reckon,” said Big Macintosh. “Miss Vinyl around? I think I ought ta apologize for somethin’. Seems I upset her.” “She probably went to bed,” said Octavia. “I didn’t see her, since the gig.” “Din’t see you,” suggested Big Macintosh. “Did ya find somethin’ to do?” “Oh yes,” said Octavia with satisfaction. “What a lovely country! I did some shopping. And I blew off a little steam, and then I had to do more shopping as I’d been naughty. Fortunately, there was a Kirin to help.” “Whut?” blurted Big Macintosh. “Ain’t no Kirin! Least I din’t see no Kirin!” “Have you ever seen a daikon radish?” replied Octavia. “Nope!” “If you had, you’d know why I needed to see a Kirin,” replied Octavia, with satisfaction. “My, yes. I’m sure Scratchie will be pleased to hear it. She really was right all along, and though I find I can’t disrupt the source of my muse, still ingenuity finds workarounds. The poor Kirin was cross with me, but never mind that.” “Ah was afraid they’d be cross with me!” said Big Macintosh. “It was worth it,” said Octavia. “The next gig is SO important, and I feel much better. I’m sure it will be a great… what is this?” They’d got back to the cart. The spot where Vinyl liked to sleep was there. Vinyl was not. Her decks were not. However, a small envelope was. Big Macintosh and Octavia stared with alarm at each other. Hoof trembling, staring at the space where Vinyl’s decks should have been, Octavia opened the envelope and revealed a note. The two read it, side by side. It said, in shaky, upset hornwriting, “What the serious fuck guys SERIOUSLY!” With two days left to journey around the mountains and get to Chowa for the big final gig… Vinyl Scratch was gone!
Ties That BindOctavia shuddered, baring her teeth in sensual bliss. She also quivered. And trembled, and wiggled… because Octavia was a generous mare, and wished her pleasure to be shared. Under her lay her heroic stallion, Stout Heart: Royal Guard, trusted security horse to Princess Celestia, and her inspiration… well, part of him. Octavia was a noted celebrity, a gifted cellist whose life had been transformed when she began composing music, bold and emotive music, dedicated to the glory of her lover’s penis. She’d built a burgeoning career upon this girthy foundation, and rejoiced in continual return to the source of her new themes. And she shuddered again, ostentatiously, and then the breath hissed through her teeth as he swelled within her so fiercely as to almost make her vagina creak with the strain. She’d meant that, on two levels. Firstly, Octavia was a generous mare in more ways than one. She was riding Stout Heart in reverse cowpony position, and he was staring with hungry eyes at her soft, plump rump. Every exaggerated shudder sent ripples of flesh through her quivering buttocks, and she knew her Stout Heart loved nothing more than her curvaceous plumpness, and she was doing it on purpose to excite and please him as much as she possibly could. The other part was this: Octavia was about to leave him, so she’d pulled out all the stops and meant to leave him with an experience he’d not soon forget. He surged anew, as she knew he would, and her breath caught in her throat as the mighty cock swelled… and Octavia let out a little pony shriek, for Stout Heart knew his mare. She could clamp down on him in a fervent coital embrace, but not if he resorted to jouncing, and this he did. And as Stout Heart jounced his burly guardpony hips upon the bed, his unthinkable bulk slurped deeper into Octavia in a lively rhythm… a rhythm that her sly composer’s mind took particular note of, with attention to tempo, touches of sforzando as the tender pounding shook her insides, accelerando… Octavia squealed, her eyes rolling back in her head and composition (mostly) forgotten, and exploded into a building crescendo of orgasm, her body spasming enthusiastically until she nearly toppled over. As she did, Stout Heart’s eyes widened to take in the radiant sight: not merely the joy of his beloved coming her tail off, atop him. Better than that. His trusty jouncing had sent her so mad with release that she’d lost all control of her voluptuous body. A scrawnier mare might have thrashed, or bitten. Octavia’s outburst was far more glorious than that. She rattled and shook incoherently like a cart racing over bad country roads, and since he was gazing upward at her lushly padded hindquarters, his view wasn’t of shuddering hocks or hooves clattering against the ground. Stout Heart saw only his beloved’s ‘fat mommy hips’, as he fondly considered them, and Octavia’s ass was far too soft to rattle. Instead, as her tail thrashed silky waves of dark horsehair across his face, Octavia’s butt burst into exaggerated quivers like horny Jello, and even as he felt her enthusiastic clenchings, he watched her whole body ripple in waves like a stormy sea… Stout Heart went off like a mighty cannon, unable to control himself or delay it for the slightest moment, his balls clenching and blasting his mare with a single huge burst of horsecome. Octavia’s squeal instantly went up two octaves, and her tail cracked like a very soft and bulky whip, and were she a scrawnier mare, she might have been blasted off him or simply flung herself clear in her own hysteria. But, of course, neither of them wanted that, and she was not in the least a scrawnier mare. So, Octavia hovered for a moment, soaking up the impact of Stout Heart’s explosive release and churning like a water balloon tied to a jackhammer… and then fell helplessly back against her lover, impaling herself deeply with a cry of lewd satisfaction. Stout Heart scooted his butt back a few inches, just to make sure she was comfortable, though he was already beginning to subside. Octavia panted, her eyes still unable to focus. Stout Heart couldn’t hug her, for her head was down by his rear hooves. He consoled himself by caressing and petting her soft, ample posterior. Octavia smiled groggily to herself. She knew her stallion well. They would kiss goodbye in public, face to face, and not shock Ponyville’s admittedly lax standards. Privately, their attentions could be more specialized. Just as she bid farewell to his glorious cock, she owed it to him to let him bid goodbye, in his own way, to her fat, voluptuous ass. Stout Heart fondled his lover in her post-coital stunned-senseless state for as long as he dared: there’d been times when he’d offended Octavia by such attentions, especially if he got lost in the experience and took hours. Then, his ears perked forward attentively, he directed his gaze to her lovely face, still turned away. “Honey?” he ventured. Her head turned, and he saw tears. “Octavia!” Octavia’s look was tragic. “Oh, I can’t bear it!” He gave her a worried smile. Being the husband of a great artist sometimes called for careful handling. “Bear what, my love? What’s the matter?” “How can I roam so far from you? My heart cries out!” She pulled free of his softened phallus, and turned to face him. “We’d better call the whole thing off.” “But… the tour!” protested Stout Heart. “Haven’t they booked dates?” Octavia blinked. “They? Just a moment, what do you mean they? Who is they?” “You, of course,” said Stout Heart, “and DJ Pon-3 and I suppose your roadie and… um…” As he pondered, Octavia frowned at him. “I’m no booking agent, dearest. Scratchie promises we’ll be fine. She’s from Neighpon, you know. She’s always so eager to find booking agents, but in this case she swears we won’t need them. We shall be iterant performers, traveling the countryside with our roadie and our instruments. There are no dates, and no booking. It’s not that.” “What, then?” Octavia heaved a great sigh. “I just can’t bear to leave you… even for the most glorious tour I’ve ever embarked upon. And I know you will be heartbroken without me!” She sighed again, even more ostentatiously. “There’s nothing for it, I must stay home.” Stout Heart was a simple pony, but not simple-minded. The hint of a smile played about his lips as he studied his romantic, creative, impassioned, complicated beloved. His eyes narrowed, indulgently. “Bullshit.” Octavia’s sensuous eyes widened in outrage. “I beg your pardon?! Ah… why do you say that, my most precious love?” She favored him with an equally outrageous pout. Stout Heart smiled more openly. “You’ll love it. I can see it in your eyes. You’ve been walking on air for weeks. You’ll go, and you’ll love it, and you’ll have a wonderful time and make legions of new fans.” Octavia pouted harder, scrunching her nose. “You can’t wait,” teased Stout Heart. “Go on. You’ll be a huge success.” His wry look softened. “I’ll be so very proud of you. Go. Go and show them what beautiful music is.” She stared at him, undone by his sincerity, and deeply disconcerted by his attitude. “But… our timeless romance? How can I…” “Didn’t you tell me that art and desire are bound together, but remain separately alive?” Octavia boggled. “Stout Heart, darling! I was talking to a critic!” “Doesn’t matter,” said Stout Heart resolutely. “It’s one of the wisest things I ever heard. And it explained a lot, Octavia. I love you. Go to Neighpon on your tour, and give some love to your art. I’ll wait.” She gulped. “But how will I bear the separation from you?” He winked. “Wait until you get back before you compose anything. We can’t have anypony else’s dick inspiring you too much, right?” Octavia glowered at him. “It’s NOT just that!” Her lip quivered, and a tear came to her eye. “Do you not think I notice your kindness, your strength, the gentleness within you? Your wisdom, even now? Sex is most of my art but life is all of these things and more. I’ll miss you, Stout Heart. I really will.” “Awwww,” said her lover. “But I still want you to go and have a wonderful time.” “I’ll miss you,” said Octavia earnestly. “Will you miss Ponyville?” Octavia blinked. “Oh, Stout Heart. You know I’ve toured before. Half my heart’s in Canterlot, I know it as well as home. I am not some farm pony, to be lost immediately to homesickness. No. It’s you I’ll miss. Look, look, do you see my room?” “It’s so empty. Without your cello, I mean.” Octavia pouted. “The point is, my home is within my music, not house furnishings! It’s been ever thus! My cello is over at Sweet Apple Acres. Big Macintosh asked to have it early, so that he could practice fitting it carefully on the cart.” From the other room, a brazen little voice called out. “You’re nuts!” Octavia’s eyes widened, and she drew a deep breath. “Scratchie! You hurt his feelings when you refused to let him have your decks.” Vinyl Scratch, much celebrated as DJ Pon-3, and trying to get some sleep before they embarked upon their big tour, made a face from under the pillow she was using to suppress the noises of her housemate and housemate’s mate. “I gave him all the heavy speakers! And I showed him how big a space the decks will need. You can’t ask them to be away from me the night before we travel! And you’re gonna owe an apology to your…” “Shush!” decreed Octavia, knowing Scratchie’s quirks and her strangely protective relationship with her turntables. “We’ll sort it out tomorrow. And I know my cello will understand. We will travel Neighpon together, so she is letting me focus on my pony love for my last night in Ponyville, and rightly so.” DJ Pon-3 snorted. “You should be with your instrument on a big night like this, not… whoring it out to our roadie!” Stout Heart inhaled, ready to scold the recalcitrant Scratch, but then he found Octavia’s hoof tenderly touching his lips, and he remained silent. “You’re nervous,” said Octavia into the darkness of Scratch’s room. A pause, as Octavia and Stout Heart held their breaths. “Yeah,” admitted Vinyl, a quaver in her voice. “I trust you,” said Octavia. “Try to trust yourself enough to sleep, okay, honey?” A smaller pause, more easily traversed. “Okay,” said Vinyl, reluctantly. She made no further request or demand, but Octavia and Stout Heart looked at each other, and Octavia added, “We’ll be quieter. We’re done.” Octavia’s lip quivered in woe at the thought, and was kissed into quiescence. She and Stout Heart snuggled close, and Vinyl Scratch resumed her attempts to sleep. “Can’t you hold that more steady, Oakback?” demanded Applejack. “Ain’t th’ steadiness,” said Big Macintosh. “That’s one of th’ big-size wagon wheels you got there.” “Dang it! You’re right,” said Applejack. “Okay, let ‘er down, Oakback!” The half-built wagon tipped, settling onto its unshod axle. Two pairs of Apple eyes widened. Big Macintosh flung himself onto the dirt, forelegs outstretched, and caught the toppling cello. Applejack took off her hat, and wiped her brow with the back of a hoof. “Ah meant onto the dang hay-bale, Oakback, you blinkin’ idiot. All right! I think we’ve had enough pony carpentry for th’ moment. Nice save, Big Macintosh!” “Apple Bloom kin put them wheels on,” suggested Oakback. “She’s gosh dern clever with a hammer.” “Reckon you’re right,” admitted Applejack. “We’ll pick this up in th’ morning. You okay, Big Macintosh?” Big Macintosh continued to hold the cello, his eyes wide, his fetlocks trembling. “Eyup.” “I think we got your harness all fitted up,” said Applejack. “O’ course, stands to reason, don’t it? Harness is the same, cart’s all different, but it’ll be fine in the morning, ain’t that right?” Big Macintosh rested the cello tenderly on a haybale, without a word. He stepped away, glanced at what remained of the old cart, and winced. “Aw!” said Applejack. “Don’t you worry about that! First of all, what good would our Apple cart be without our Big Macintosh ta pull it, I ask you? An’ secondly, we are honored to help our Ponyville musical-ponies go on their journey. Don’t you worry, y’all be home before you know it, and you’re giving a beautiful country a taste of some beautiful music while you’re at it.” She smiled, but Big Macintosh wasn’t smiling. Applejack cast about for further reassurances. “Are you worried about that Vinyl Scratch not letting us pack her record players? Aw, sugarcube, don’t you know that mare’s kinda funny about those? Prob’ly about the most easy-going unicorn crazy I ever did see, but for all that you won’t shake her on it: she weren’t NEVER gonna let them things out of her sight and you’re a fool to take it personal.” Big Macintosh looked even more woeful. Applejack tried harder. “I’m telling you, Vinyl Scratch don’t dislike nor mistrust you, not a bit of it, it’s jes’ her little ways. And Ah got a sense of how big them record players were and we’ve got it sorted, they will fit jes’ fine and we made a place for them already. Your lil’ tour won’t git marred by angry unicorns, so put your mind at ease. …okay?” Big Macintosh tried to smile, but a sister knew. Applejack gulped. “What’s hurtin’ ya, Big Macintosh?” she said. “Is it Braeburn? Ah shouldn’t tell you, he asked me not to tell, but ah happen to know that ol’ cowpony rascal, he’s waitin’ for you in bed. That’s why you ain’t seen him, honey, he wanted to give you a surprise. Don’t you fret, all right? We’re done here for now. You go on. He’s a-waitin’ for you, I promise.” Big Macintosh’s ears laid back in distress. His lip quivered. “Aw!” said Applejack, trotted up, and gave him a little kiss. “Ah called it! Din’t I call it? Go on. Braeburn wants to give you a lil’ send-off, and he’ll be waiting for you, and th’ tour will be done before you know it, and you’ll come home to your special pony jes’ as if you never left. Okay?” Mac’s lip quivered worse, and then he was bawling as Applejack hugged him, confident in her diagnosis, soothing him earnestly. “Pore ole Big Macintosh! Ah know it’s hard to leave home, but it’s only for a while, an’ it’s a proper good cause! Should’a seen this coming, indeed I should, you ain’t never been farther than Fillydelphia! Or Canterlot, I guess. Trust me, folks is the same all over. Jes’ remember, we love you, an’ hold that in your heart! Everything’s gonna be okay.” With that, she half-led, half-wrestled him out the big doors, around the side of the barn, and into the room that Big Macintosh used as a bedroom. Inside, Braeburn the fabulous cowpony lay across his bed, a rose held in his teeth… but he spat it out with a flailing of limbs and leapt to his feet in dismay at what he saw. “Princess!” he cried. “It’s all right, Braeburn!” called Applejack. “Ah reckon it’s your magic we’re needin’ tonight.” “What happened?” “Big Macintosh misses us already, an’ he ain’t even left yet, much less come back!” Braeburn took in the situation at a glance. “Applejack? Ah got this. Thankee kindly…” “Ah kin stay an…” “You kin leave,” said Braeburn firmly. Applejack gasped. She glanced between Big Macintosh and Braeburn. Her jaw tightened. “Hmph! Jes’ so’s you know, Mister Braeburn, there’s more to life than randy fuckin’.” A new voice squeaked out from behind Applejack as she stood in the doorway. “Since when?” Applejack didn’t budge. “Dashie, you settle. This ain’t nothin’ to do with you.” The cerulean pegasus peeked over her, nuzzling Applejack cheek to cheek. “If there’s randy fucking that isn’t, I totally demand an explanation… oh hi Big Macintosh, Braeburn… hey, what’s up with Big Macintosh?” “He’s goin’ on that big tour,” explained Applejack, “an’ he’s fretful.” Rainbow Dash gawked. “Seriously? It’s not that far. I could fly there in a couple days if I really went for it… well, weeks, I guess. Nah, not more than a week.” “Some of us got to go on hoof,” chided Applejack. “Or on a boat, which I got to say I’m kinda looking forward to. I bet you I’ll get my sea hooves right quickly! But the difference is, I’mma turn around and go right home again, and Big Macintosh has a tour to do first.” “But that’ll be awesome!” argued Dash. “He’s helping the arts, with cellos and dance music. And he gets to see Neighpon, remember when the Kirin came to visit us? It must be an awesome country, so pretty, plus Twilight says they’re a kinky bunch and she showed me some pictures. I didn’t even know you could do that with a unicorn! Now I want to go.” “Rainbow Dash! Back to the randy fuckin’ as usual. For your information, Big Macintosh is servin’ as a roadie, not some fancy foreign stud-pony, plus you know it’s more complicated than that. Ain’t you seen that Octavia around town, spendin’ all her time with Stout Heart the guard-pony? She’s goin’ on tour right enough, but she’s in love an’ I’m here to tell ya, and you should remember cos’ you’re part of the family, it ain’t so different between Big Macintosh and our Braeburn.” Applejack gestured with a hoof. “This seemin’ly wanton and wild-ass cowpony…” “Wants some gosh dern privacy!” interrupted Braeburn, with an outlaw look in his eyes. Applejack’s jaw dropped. She glanced, startled, at Braeburn, and was met with a hoof-stomp. Big Macintosh wouldn’t meet her eye. “Uhhh…” Rainbow Dash burst out into her squeaky little laugh. “For once I’m not the rude one! Come on, Boss. You’ve got tomorrow to say goodbye.” “Ah guess,” conceded Applejack, scraping the dirt with a forehoof. “Seriously, come on, give them some space,” insisted Dash. “I get that you want to say goodbye to Big Macintosh, but it’s even more crazy because you’re going on the boat with him!” “I like boats, dang it!” “You earth ponies are so into your family ties that it’s like you never go anywhere or see anything,” said Dash. “He’s BEEN to Fillydelphia,” argued Applejack. She glanced to Big Macintosh for support, and he still wouldn’t meet her eye, and Braeburn lifted a hoof for more stamping. “Fine!” she said. “Good night, all. Enjoy yer randy fuckin’ an’ don’t stay up too late.” Then, Applejack reared and squealed, for Rainbow Dash had her by the ear. “Yeee! Dashie, the hell?” Rainbow released her. “Got your attention?” “Jes’ a bit!” “Good,” retorted Dash. “It takes a lot to distract you from their randy fucking.” Applejack snorted. “They ain’t started! And I wouldn’t hang around watchin’ if they did, ma’am.” “But you’ll hang around stopping them from starting,” teased Dash. “What kinda talk is that?” “Shh,” said Dash, her wings lifting. “Come away from there. I know how to distract you from randy fucking.” Applejack began to sidle back out of the door, her ears curious. “That so? How you figure?” “Oh, I think so,” purred Dash. She leaned in, and whispered, “All I have to do is give you some randy fucking of your own!” Applejack canted her hips coyly, and swished her tail. “My own?” “Our own,” corrected Dash. She went to nip at Applejack’s ear again, and drag her away, but her country marefriend frisked aside and pranced back out the door, calling out, “Ah’d like ta see you try!” Then, there was just the sounds of flapping pegasus wings and galloping hooves toward the farmhouse. Braeburn glanced at Big Macintosh. Then… the sounds of wings returned, and a blue wing could be seen gently but firmly closing the door, and off Rainbow went in pursuit of her special somepony. Big Macintosh gulped. Braeburn went over to him. “Never you mind, Princess. They love ya too. Let me soothe your mind.” And indeed it was a special thing, thought Braeburn. Big Macintosh, his ‘Princess’, stood shyly. He—or sometimes ‘she’, it depended—was so precious, somehow fragile. Others didn’t have that Big Macintosh, though Princess had got better about letting them know him. Granny had been a tough case, initially hostile, though as she learned better she permitted Princess to exist, and took pride in giving things like gifts. Princess was shy, but hopelessly romantic. Princess made love like he was, perhaps, not allowed to. Princess was passive, receptive, but needed to be enclosed in a special and protective world just large enough for one massive, bashful farm horse and his outlaw cowpony lover. Their love was as big as all the prairie, and as secluded. It didn’t fit in towns and societies and… families. And then, impossibly, Rainbow Dash had come to bring the two gay lovers home again. Princess was loved by more than just Braeburn. Loved so much, that they’d accept Braeburn just as he was, roguish fellow, to get their Big Macintosh back. And that was how it had gone, and the outlaw cowpony had taken up residence in Ponyville, in a little house that faced the sunrise. The door didn’t open in the direction of town. Braeburn’s house turned its back on Ponyville, and opened to the wild prairie and Appleloosa beyond. But it was always open to Princess. And, in Big Macintosh’s bedroom, Braeburn without a word sought out Princess, with touch and petting and quiet, tender sounds. And, eventually, more… and as always, Princess didn’t cry out or carry on, even as Braeburn tenderly, firmly slid up her quivering tail-hole and held her close while the thunder steadily built to a crescendo, his powerful outlaw hips a poem of gestural caresses, too gentle and cautious to be the bold statements delivered to a female mare. Princess didn’t make a sound, but as always her body in its glorious maleness responded with that beautiful, outlaw-sized erection… and, as Braeburn grunted and spasmed his gift into his only true love, also with a fantastic cum-shot that sailed right across the room and painted the wall. Big Macintosh always came hardest on the end of a horse-cock. Before Braeburn, this had been a source of horror. But before Braeburn, there had been no Princess… Braeburn sagged, panting, sweating. “Mmm?” whimpered Big Macintosh. His clenches, as he’d fired his own ejaculation at the wall, had pret-near crunched Braeburn’s dick clean off. “Mmmmm…” reassured Braeburn. Big Macintosh cried. Braeburn let him, whispering soothing words, cuddling. It had to be wrenching, to go on a tour like that. Once, Princess had returned to Ponyville and then couldn’t keep quiet about things, had to kick up a fuss and run away again to rejoin Braeburn, even if it had to be out on the lonely prairie. Braeburn hugged him closer, remembering those days, murmuring assurances. “It’s okay… over ‘fore you know it… p’raps you’ll make some nice mares happy, won’t that be nice? We’ll be waitin’ for you.” Big Macintosh’s eyes, full of tears and woe, met his. Princess was always so undefended, so earnest. Something about that bath of adoration and love, it gave you a real foundation on life, made a cowpony feel like a real stallion. You wanted to live up to it, that uncritical worship. Braeburn smiled, his eyes crinkling up irresistibly. “Ain’t jes’ your family, Princess. Somepony more than that. Somepony who will never leave you. Go on. Who’s your very most special somepony?” Big Macintosh… looked away. At that moment, Braeburn’s heart froze. He covered for it, instinctively, saying “O’ course your family, well, that’s the most special thing of all, ain’t it?” He talked on, a lifetime of outlaw treachery coming to his aid, helping him not reveal his private feelings. At all costs, he could not dig deeper into the tiny crack that revealed the loss of all his foundations. Everything he knew, everything he was, united in screaming their warnings and he smiled and soothed and revealed nothing. Once, Braeburn had shared his joys with a pegasus mare, and she’d got pregnant and set out to find him and keep him, and that was just hard luck, wasn’t it? That wasn’t the way the game was played. At the time, he’d clued in to what she was suggesting, and he wasn’t having any of that from a rogue mare who’d let herself conceive in spite of everything he’d intended. It was easy to tell. He’d smiled then, too… smiled with a bright and innocent gaze, that hid the certain truth: he was going to leave and she’d never see him again, and he could see it in her eyes, see the realization that the sexy outlaw was moving on. Her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Her eyes were pits of quicksand, were snares… she would chase him until he dropped, because she wasn’t her own any more. She was his, body, heart and soul, whether he wanted it or not. Braeburn fought desperately to keep that same look out of his own eyes. One glimpse into Princess’s truthful gaze had warned him, and he knew in his bones if he revealed his own weakness, it was over. Something had happened, and Princess wasn’t his, and he had to stall for time until he could work out what to do. The prairie had all the time in the world. An outlaw cowpony knew that sometimes, you needed time. He would need all the time of his whole life if he meant to exist… after Princess. Braeburn smiled, gutted, as Princess looked away. Big Macintosh, his bum throbbing delightfully, wept and stared at nothing. There seemed nothing comforting he could possibly look at. His fate was too terrifying. He would miss those he loved in Ponyville, sure enough. That was only the beginning of his problems. Big Macintosh had lost his heart when a Kirin came to Ponyville. She’d been his lover, and they’d parted bravely, each realizing their worlds were too different, that they could not be each others’ special someponies. He had a home. She had… responsibilities. As far as she’d known, he accepted this. And then, hearing that Vinyl Scratch and Octavia needed a roadie for a Neighpon tour, his world had ground to a halt in an instant, and become a stale puppet thing in the face of his grand new vision. And since then, he’d lived like some sort of spy: protecting his plan, but unable to tell any of the ponies he loved about it. This didn’t come naturally to him, but he wasn’t a big talker and that helped. Big Macintosh wept. He would miss Ponyville, of course. But he was leaving on a boat bound for Neighpon the next day. He simply had to keep the secret, for himself and for Hina his Kirin true love, whom he would find in Neighpon… somewhere. And he would learn to love her home and share it with her… for he would never return to Ponyville.
Sailing“Arr! No more dilly-dallyin’! Walk the plank, ya swab!” demanded Applejack, ebulliently. “Yeah!” cried Northern Spy. “Walk the plank, Big Macintosh, right now!” “Whut plank?” asked Big Macintosh, his ears laid back in dismay. Applejack blinked. “Why… this one right here, that goes between th’ dock and the boat. Step quickly! Ah tole you, if we went out by Hoofington we could take all the time we like at the dock, but this here’s a Manehattan dock and time’s a wasting!” “Because you have to go down the river instead of heading straight east to Neighpon?” guessed Rainbow Dash. Applejack glowered. “Because this is a busy port! We gotta get our boat outta the way so other ponies kin launch!” Big Macintosh didn’t seem ready to walk the plank. He shied away, raising a forehoof, a look of dismay in his eyes. This wasn’t new: even when leaving Ponyville he’d been anxious, gazing at Braeburn as if frightened of the cowpony stallion’s bright and brazen smile, and then even more alarmed by Rarity’s farewell. And that seemed odd, but Rarity had been in an odd mood herself. She’d hugged Big Macintosh, gazed deeply into his eyes, given him a kiss and told him, “My blessing goes with you, darling. Be well.” It seemed an odd thing to say, and Sweetie Belle had chimed in with “What was that about?” but Rarity had shushed her and hugged Big Macintosh again with a sort of bold, defiant tearfulness, and refused to explain herself. And Braeburn had bolted and run to his house and shut the door, and wouldn’t explain either, though he paced like a demon in there. And so they’d headed West, on a road trip to Manehattan, where their boat trip to Neighpon would begin. And, on the docks of Manehattan, surrounded by busy maritime commerce, Big Macintosh had developed cold hooves. Applejack had no patience for landlubber farmponies. “Dang it! Like this, you big lug!” she cried, and leapt onto the plank herself. She trotted back and forth across it, twirling and lashing her tail, then jumped onto the deck of the boat. “Come on!” “I kin do that!” said Northern Spy, and jumped boldly onto the plank herself. “You ain’t goin’ to Neighpon!” laughed Applejack. “So what? I… waugh!” Northern Spy had tried to twirl like her Mom, gangly filly legs frisking on the narrow plank, but her right rear hoof missed its purchase. With a squeal, she toppled… and with a whoosh, Rainbow Dash zipped under the plank in half a loop-de-loop to catch her wayward foal. “Not with balance like that you’re not!” proclaimed Dash. Spy pouted, and gave her a glare. “I meant to do that! I was swimming.” “In salt water?” objected Dash. “Ain’t salt water up here,” said Applejack. “This lake’s fed by run-off from th’ mountains.” “Oh, well in that case…” “WHOA!” squeaked Vinyl Scratch. “First of all, Applejack’s right, we need to get moving. This is an important port and other boats do need to dock here.” Rainbow Dash blinked at her, about to drop her recalcitrant filly into the water. “And? Is there a second of all?” Scratch made a face. “The lake is also fed by the run-off from Manehattan. Look at it. Smell it!” Dash and Northern Spy looked. They sniffed. Spy flung her forelegs around Blue Mom’s neck. “NOPE nope nope nope nope!” she vowed. Dash laughed. “Me either! I gotta travel home with you, squirt! Let’s get back onto the dock.” Octavia cringed. “Is that where the odor comes from? Why ever do they do it? Ew!” Vinyl Scratch shrugged. “Once you get on the river it’s a lot better. Hoofington doesn’t have this big of a port, and the city’s not so near the water.” “Why would that matter?” asked Octavia. “The city’s sewers aren’t as near the water, either…” “Come on, then!” called Applejack. “We already had a mess o’ harbor horses load our cargo down in th’ hold, and that’s all the ballast we need. This here boat’s shipshape from bilge ta binnacle. All we need is our crew, and that’s you ponies, an’ especially you, Big Macintosh! You’re gonna be my bosun startin’ in about, oh, ten seconds, or I swear I’m gonna run up th’ red flag and then Celestia help you…” With little eeps, Vinyl, Octavia and Big Macintosh ran across the plank to stand, swaying uneasily, on the deck of the ship. “Woohoo!” cheered Applejack. “I’ll make y’all sailors yet! Big Macintosh, loose that lanyard an’ cast off!” “Whut?” mumbled Big Macintosh, his eyes rolling fretfully. Applejack sighed. “Untie that there rope, so the boat kin go.” She shook her head, and muttered, “Still time to go git a crew that ain’t a bunch of green sprogs…” “Green what?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Nevermind. That’s th’ way, Big Macintosh! Now, all y’all get on the poop and wave bye to Rainbow Dash an’ Northern Spy!” Octavia’s face showed epic dismay. “Is this some sailor thing? Must we?” “Well yeah, come on!” “But I don’t see any,” protested Octavia. “Though I can smell it, now that you mentioned sewers. Can I get on that ledge at the back instead?” Applejack sagged. “Sure, you do that,” she said. “That’s all Ah meant, sugarcube. It’s called the poop deck. High up at th’ stern. Uhh, the back of the ship. Yep. Go ahead.” Octavia and Vinyl Scratch scampered unsteadily to the stern of the ship, and clambered up onto the poop deck. “Oooh, a wheel!” cried Scratch. “Yep!” called Applejack. “I’ll get right to it!” She turned to face Big Macintosh, who staggered sideways across the deck. “That’s th’ way, Big Macintosh! Uh, more to the back, sugarcube, looks like you’re headin’ crossways to the side…” “Blarrrrghhh!” Applejack’s ears wilted, as she watched Big Macintosh puke into the river. “Well,” she said, “that won’t make the docks smell any th’ worse.” She twitched. “Still not too late to grab a crew… nah. Not in Manehattan. I’d git keelhauled fer tryin’ and it ain’t worth it, this thing ain’t more’n a yacht.” “Come up here on this ledge, Applejack!” called Octavia. “Rainbow and Northern Spy are waving!” “Sure,” said Applejack, “gimme jes’ a minute, gotta help my brother…” “Come up here because we don’t know how to steer this boat,” called Vinyl Scratch. “Comin’!” “But how did you become such a good sea-pony?” asked Octavia. Applejack didn’t hear. “Big Macintosh! Don’t puke down in them bilges, they smell bad enough, dang it!” she yelled down into the hold. “Ah’m sorry, what was that again?” “You seem to know everything,” said Octavia admiringly. “However did you become such a very good sailor?” Applejack’s eyes widened in surprise. “My sakes! Well, thank you for that… heh! Good, y’say… who would have thought somepony would end up callin’ me a GOOD sailor. Heh, heh…” “What’s so funny?” demanded Vinyl Scratch. “You look like that’s a big joke. No, wait… you look like it’s an even better story than we thought. That’s a heck of a grin, Applejack. Spill it!” Big Macintosh, who’d staggered back up above decks, reeled over to the gunwales of the ship, where he clung. “Blurrrghhh!” “Not you!” yelled Scratch and Applejack, together. “It’s all right,” said Octavia bravely and a little greenly. “He can feed the fishes some more, I’m starting to get used to it. Curse you, Scratchie, you’ve taken to this like a duck to water!” Scratch cackled happily. “It’s fun! I feel like some kind of… it makes me want to go yo ho ho, and do a dance, and then climb up the mast or something!” Applejack grinned. “You got it! Welcome to th’ life, ya scurvy dog of a pony!” Scratch rounded on her. “And that’s why you have to tell us your story!” she accused. “You’re way too good at this, and you don’t even act like the Applejack we know. I think it’s bumming Big Macintosh out, and he’s my roadie so I expect an explanation, Captain Applejack. I’m, like, responsible for his care while I’m employing him. Even if we haven’t started the tour yet. So what gives?” Applejack stared back, wide-eyed. “Hang on. You’re protectin’ Big Macintosh… FROM me?” Big Macintosh glanced back at them, from his position leaning over the gunwale. His countenance was miserable. Then, he turned back to his fish-feeding activities. “Urrrrgh…” “You’re very fierce,” said Octavia. “I confess, I want to trot about doing your bidding just to keep out of trouble, and really you’re not only our dear friend, but also a sort of hired hoof. You know? We’re only taking a boat, but I’d pictured it as a pleasant cruise. Not as a, a… pirate crew!” Applejack had gone scarlet in the face and ears. Her eyes were wide and shocked. She gulped, and said, “Old habits die hard. Ah reckon I do owe y’all an explanation. How about you set back, an’ I’ll tell you a story?” “Is it a true story?” challenged Scratch. “Or is it like a fiction story? Or, what are they called, an allegory?” “One of them bit off my ol’ captain’s hoof once,” volunteered Applejack. “He dove into th’ sea, beat the snot out of the critter and got it back. We sewed it on again and after a unicorn did some healin’ spells it was almost good as new, exceptin’ it hurt every time he got near a swamp.” “So you’re making it up?” said Scratch. Applejack’s eyes widened. “Nuh-uh! It’s all true, all of it, especially them bits that are lies. Cos’ we’re allowed to fib, the kind of pony I was. It’s expected.” Big Macintosh was watching, his stomach surrendering to emptiness for the moment. “You gave up lyin’, Applejack.” “Shush, you,” she said. “This is kinda why. You might say I got it outta my system? Ain’t nobody ever heard this story. And it’s all lies, and it’s all true. But you got to never tell. This tale is only for th’ high seas.” They stared, entranced. “Er,” said Vinyl Scratch, “it’s pretty calm. If the seas get high, Big Macintosh will throw up again. So you’d better tell us now.” With a little halfsmile playing about her lips, Applejack began. “Never did tell anypony what I did after I left Manehattan. It’s true enough that I returned home on account of findin’ the hoity toity ways a lil’ rich for my blood, but I din’t go straight home an’ that’s another lie. I’mma ask you not to tell the foals, especially my own lil’ tearaway Northern Spy, because she would be on the high seas by sunset an’ probably Dashie with her, and we got a nice kind honest family and don’t need no piratin’ kinfolk. Okay?” The listening ponies nodded, wide-eyed. “Good,” said Applejack, with a glint in her eye. “See to it you keep that promise. Ah’m still pirate enough to whop you one if you fail me, as I’m sure everypony knows.” She winced. “Except Apple Bloom. I guess it’s in th’ blood. Don’t you dare tell Apple Bloom about this, she’d be even worser than Spy, though she’s found an outlet runnin’ the farm, just as I did…” “Well, it’s true enough that I was tirin’ of Manehattan. Started to get real cranky, lookin’ at all these soft rich lazy ponies loungin’ around eatin’ fancy food an’ dressin’ up. It was worse ‘cause I myself was doin’ the same thing, and learnin’ to talk fancy and act the fool. I thought that was how I was s’posed to be, thought I’d get my cutie mark in fancy, but the whole time I’m jes’ gettin’ more and more ornery. Never did figure out what was happenin’ to me on account of, I was so mad at the fancy ponies that it didn’t occur to me to ogle them. Yep! I was becomin’ a mare, still with no cutie mark, still a tiny lil’ filly but with a head fixin’ to bust.” Her smile was narrow, dangerous, her eyes not directed at present company. “And that’s not all that got busted… but that is how I met Blackmane.” Octavia’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to exclaim, but a glance from Applejack stopped her cold. “Ah see you heard of him. I’m tellin’ the story, don’t interrupt. If it’s any consolation, he’s all you heard of him an’ more, but I almost beat him all th’ same. We good here, kin I continue without a passel of questions?” Octavia nodded hastily, and Applejack drew a deep breath, let it out, and stared into space a while. “I was down around th’ docks, jes’ like we were. Wanderin’ around, doin’ nothin’ much of consequence, and I see this one ship. Funny lookin’ ship, kind of shabby, all the way at the end of the dock. An’ I see it ain’t tied up, and I know that ain’t right. In fact, the crazy thing is bonkin’ up against another ship, like they rammed it into the dock an’ left it. I could tell that weren’t no way to park a ship, even one with a black flag on it, but I was fed up with doin’ things properly and, lookin’ down the dock at this ship, it give me a sort of wriggly stirrin’ in my nethers jes’ to look at it. Din’t know what I felt, din’t know what I thought, all’s I knew was I jes’ wanted to wander down that ol’ dock and see what was what. And I did.” “Imagine my surprise when I hear yellin’ behind me, and all of a sudden it’s a stampede! An’ down the dock comes all these wild ponies, fierce as anything, and the next thing you know they’re yellin’ ‘get the filly!’ and I ain’t got nowhere to run. It was get on th’ ship, or get run over. They herded me real good! I know now, that was on purpose: ain’t no police pegasi saw me, or the chase woulda really been on. But them rough ponies, they got me into this cabin quicker ’n a wink. Heh, literally. Remember, I don’t know what’s happenin’ to me, I’m jes’ restless and ready to kick heads in.” “And I try the door an’ it’s locked, and I feel the ship gettin’ underway, but if there’s one thing I know it’s this: we ain’t stayin’ in Manehattan. So I yell through the door for a while but my heart ain’t in it, and I sulk, and I kick the door for a spell, and then there’s this heavy hoof-step outside and the door opens, and I see Blackmane the Pirate with my very own eyes.” Octavia gasped, then quieted at a sharp glance from Applejack. “Thankee. Ain’t half done with th’ story, you just hold your horses. Which, as it happens, is more or less what Blackmane had in mind. He says, ‘Girl’? and I says, ‘Who you callin’ a girl?’ and he says, ‘Would you rather I called you a foal? It won’t change what’s gonna happen’ and I says, ‘Oh yeah? Well I ain’t no foal’ an’ he licks his lips, the nasty critter, and he looks me over and he says ‘Pity…’” Octavia gave a half-suppressed squeal, and fell silent again. “You hush. This ain’t that easy, missy, especially among family an’ all. This here’s a secret! But it might explain some things, especially th’ way I took control of th’ farm later… so I’mma continue my story if I may.” Three ponies nodded, though Big Macintosh looked slightly stunned. “Anyways,” said Applejack, “Ah look down and there’s a big fat thing a-dropping from between his legs. And I don’t know much but I ain’t a total fool so I tell him, ‘Buddy, this was already a bad annoyin’ day and if you think I’m ending it off by playin’ kissy face with you…’. And then the next thing I see is the back of a hoof comin’ at me an’ POW! Over I go. And I look up, and he’s smiling. An’ I spit out a tooth.” She paused, for effect. “And then… I start smiling. Can’t even help it. I’m grinnin’ worse an’ worse. And I just say, ‘Got better right quick, mister’. And I tell you, I came off the floor at him and my heart was singin’ and I did my level best to kill Blackmane, right then and there, in his own captain’s cabin. I was wearin’ some consarned frilly dress and the silly thing practically shredded right off me. I do remember tryin’ to strangle him with one of th’ sashes, but it broke. I musta got him in the head with at least five good kicks. If I’d been a grown mare, he’d have been a goner, but I din’t even have my cutie mark. I bit him, I socked him in the eye, even kicked him in th’ stones a good ‘un. Somehow I thought I was winnin’, felt a million miles tall an’ made of lightning. At the time it din’t occur to me there was two ponies gettin’ that pumped up. All I knew was, I got to take out my frustrations at last. Punched the daylights out of his dumb grinnin’ face, and then I come to an’ I realize, the hoof I’m punchin’ with is the only one I got free. He’s pinned the other three legs. An’ my heart is pounding, and the wriggly feelin’ is worse than ever, an’ then he’s pinned my free hoof with his own, four legs pinnin’ four. Except he’s got that fifth leg back again, bigger’n ever…” “I can’t figure out why I can’t stop grinnin’. He seems ta like it. I spit in his face. He licks it up, the dirty bugger, which leaves me at somethin’ of a loss. He says, ‘Normally I’d wreck your ass, but you’ve earned better’. I says, ‘Normally I’d kick your head in, let me go!’ An’ he smiles, and he says, ‘This is the final test’. An’ I look down, and here he comes… and the wriggly feelin’ practically explodes an’ I have time to notice my pee-hole’s drooled or sneezed or something, and then the only thing left to think about is the way Blackmane’s massive dick is wedging right into me without a by-your-leave…” “Ghh!” went Octavia, sweating. Scratch glanced chidingly at her. She hadn’t touched herself, but all the same, the mere story had got the romantic, fantasizing cellist off. Applejack rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I see you’ve heard of him. You know, if he hadn’t caught me at a mighty strange time of my life, it would’ve been pow’ful different.” She sighed, looking grumpy. “It wasn’t different, though. If I’m honest, it was every stupid filly’s Blackmane fantasy, an’ I fell for it. You see, I was high on fightin’ him, fed up with Manehattan, craving a big change, an’ I tell you this: by the time that dick rammed the end of my gizzards, I was already an outlaw. And a total fool, besides.” Octavia was blushing, ashamed. Her eyes begged forgiveness. “Ah am not going to guilt myself for my reactions,” said Applejack sternly. “Only for losin’ my head and being a dernfool filly about them. And for your information, you might say I was lucky and unlucky, both. You see, he was watchin’ me the whole time. If he’d started bangin’ me right off, I bet the pain of it would’ve set me right. It wasn’t kindness. He watched my eyes, and he went real slow because he could see my brains were meltin’ out my ears and he wanted to stretch out that moment as long as he possibly could. It just so happened that this choice of his sealed my fate. By the time he was halfway, I was already comin’ as hard as I ever did come in all my life, and I was screamin’ my lungs out by the time he began to really move, and I reckon I weathered the storm. I was a proper horny mare when I was becomin’ a mare. He got all of that. I believe that mattered, too. Blackmane liked to hurt nice ponies. But a proper filthy wanton wench, long’s she shared his every thought and whim? Well, he liked it, for a time.” The ponies mulled that over. “For all that, it didn’t take long for me to wake the buck up,” admitted Applejack. “At first, I was a madmare for fuckin’ and I was happy as a pig in shit, punchin’ anypony I liked. We terrorized the high seas. We robbed other ships. I swung over to ‘em myself, hangin’ by a lanyard, and strong sailorponies ran from me. That first day, Blackmane had blacked my eye and cut my face in our fightin’ and I looked like a tiny, crazy filly, and before they knew it I’d punched them twelve times and they’d run away cryin’ and I’d jes laugh. Beatin’ up ponies three times my size, not even caring… I was Blackmane’s mare and Princess of the Pirates, I thought that was what I was gonna be for the rest of my life. We’d go back to his cabin, play with our loot, fuck… he did end up doin’ every hole but I’d punch him in the eye and tell myself we was even.” “If you think about it,” continued Applejack, “folks ought to have guessed, when Applesauce died. When we let her spirit rise, by nightfall I’d fucked all th’ farm ponies, present company excepted, into th’ ground. Wasn’t that strange? Worked a treat, mind you, made a big impression, but how was it a seemingly innocent young mare had such a power of the pussy to her? Yep! It was practice. I’d already taken over a pirate ship that way, so it weren’t nothin’ unusual for me…” “Mind you, I din’t know that was what I was doin’. I know now, Blackmane was a mean bastard. Still is, more’n likely. The crew didn’t love him. They feared him. I feared nothing on account of I thought he was my special somepony an’ I was his match. And then, not long after my black eye healed up, there was that one ship that changed everything…” “Blackmane din’t care if I fucked the crew. I got a lot of ridin’ in, but it didn’t matter to him at all. Should have known that was a mite unusual, even for horses, but I was in love with Blackmane and his morals were my morals, plus I got to kick fullgrown sailorponies in the head. Mostly our pirate victims. I did also kick our crew in the head too, but me bein’ a soft touch at heart, I would come back later and make nice, apologize. Blackmane didn’t know that, but the crew, they noticed, and what’s more they figured it would get me in big trouble if Blackmane knew. I thought I was Blackmane’s other half, but I wasn’t half the wicked horse that black-hearted bugger was.” “Well, on this day I was cranky an’ sore on account of Blackmane had got up my ass again. We’re attackin’ another ship. I had this cutlass, because why just punch when you can punch and kick AND cut the rigging? I knew other ponies got up to bloody work with ‘em, but I liked workin’ with my hooves instead, and had never turned my blade on another pony. We swing over to the other ship… and it ain’t all sailors, this time.” “I’m lookin’ at another filly, even a lil’ younger than me. And I got a cutlass in my teeth, I’m ready to kick heads, and suddenly there I am, facing another pony like me. Our eyes met. And I can tell she is not the sort of pony to kick Blackmane in the head, fire up a nasty pirate romance, and be an outlaw along with him. I can see with one glance that she’s a nice pony. And she’s frail as a new flower, and she’s terrified. Of me. But I ain’t her biggest problem.” “I glance at Blackmane, an’ he can’t take his eyes off her. And he’s got a raging boner, already. And he jes’ says, ‘Throw Booties overboard. I got an upgrade’.” Octavia gasped. “You mean…?” Applejack froze her with a stare. “Ah’ll get to that! You heard right. An’ that was me. And he looks at his crew, and they ain’t too happy, and he tells them, ‘I’m bored of the willing. Do it!’” She gulped. “Ooooh… Ah tell you, that was the instant a dumb filly’s stupid love turned to white-hot hate. Throw ME overboard? Jes so’s he could rape a filly who din’t have NO kink for the wild side? I look at the crew an’ I can tell they don’t like this. Maybe they’ve seen a lot of fillies an’ most of ‘em mighty sad. Not like me, a crazy filly who’d fuck with ‘em and fight ‘em and then be kind and care about ‘em! They didn’t want to throw me overboard and replace me with this poor kid, they wanted to keep me. And that’s when I realized what I had to do.” “I spat out the cutlass, and it clanged on the deck. Looked Blackmane right in the eye, and I said, ‘How dare you, you filthy bastard? I’mma keep this nice filly, and your crew too, and I’m gonna cut off your stinkin’ cheatin’ head!’ And I grabbed the cutlass in my teeth, and I charged. Right at Blackmane, and I swung the sword with all I had, right at his neck!” The listeners waited. Finally, Vinyl Scratch said, “And?” Applejack chuckled, darkly. “There never was a pirate like Blackmane. And never will be another like him, thank goodness. I still don’t know whether I won or lost. Maybe he jes’ goes on being the Pirate Blackmane wherever he is?” “In pony hell?” said Big Macintosh. “Din’t say that. I swung the cutlass, fixin’ to cut off his head, the one time in my natural born life I was set on cold blooded murder. But my cold blooded ain’t nothin’ to the Pirate Blackmane. There’s two ends to a cutlass. The fucker caught the blade in his teeth, wrenched it out of my mouth, and got me on the side of the head with the pommel!” Octavia gasped. “Oh, no!” “Aw yeah he did! But, remember, the crew wanted to keep me? That’s what saved me. My own kindness, and also a bunch of randy sailor-fuckin’, saved me. By the time I could see straight, my crew was around me. That filly, she’s hugging me like some big rescuer hero, and cryin’, stroking my face. And there’s a lil’ spot on the horizon, and it’s a rowboat, and it’s Blackmane. The instant he saw I had the upper hoof, he abandoned ship, left all the loot and me and all his crew behind and off he went. And that was the last I saw of Blackmane the Pirate. An’ my ass hurt for a week, so I did not remember him kindly.” The listeners were silent, awed. Finally, Octavia said it. “…booties?” Applejack sighed again, but more in satisfaction. “Yep. I am the Dread Pirate Booties. Well, was. One of ‘em.” “Whaddya mean, one of ‘em?” pressed Vinyl Scratch. “Well, it’s the fetlocks, ain’t it?” said Applejack. “Dread Pirate Booties is known by his fetlocks. Well, you know there’s such a thing as socks. An’ I came aboard with a lot of frilly dumb fabric in that dress I was wearin’. Wasn’t too hard to make up some fine white fringey socks, and then I was the Dread Pirate Booties… for a time. That would be the rest of the story.” “Tell us!” squeed all three listeners, thrilled. “Gladly. This part I like better… in fact, it’s kinda why I ended up coming home, gettin’ my cutie mark and everything else. Mind you, I still lied for a while as you know. Especially about what inspired me to come home.” “Seeing Rainbow Dash’s sonic rainboom?” said Big Macintosh. “Let me tell it my way, all right, brother?” said Applejack. “Well, we all went back onto our pirate ship. I’d had reason to question where my life was headin’, and all of a sudden there I was, the Dread Pirate Booties with artificial fetlocks and a loyal crew that would do anything I asked, provided I laid ‘em and fed ‘em and cared for ‘em. We sailed around for a while, talkin’ about things. Once I got ‘em away from Blackmane, they started coming around, and I din’t have to punch them nearly as hard. The only bad time was, I caught a couple of them fixin’ to get on this filly, tiny lil’ frail unicorn filly with big big eyes. Never did work out how she was so dang thin. I punched their lights out an’ when they came to, me an’ the rest of the crew gave ‘em what for. Told them she was too little and that they should be ashamed of themselves for tryin’. And they cried. Ponies will be ponies, if you give ‘em a chance and let ‘em get their heads straight.” She cleared her throat, scanning the skyline, thoughtful. “A lot I knew. Turns out, she’s jes’ got a metabolism. She was older than I knew. Came to me a week later beggin’ my forgiveness, on account of she’d balled one of them ponies anyhow, and thought I’d be mad. Well, it gave me ideas. I’d been thinkin’, you see. Thinkin’ about what I’d seen, the night before I took over the pirate ship and kicked Blackmane out.” “Never did tell anypony that it wasn’t from a room in Manehattan that I saw it. No, sir. I did see Rainbow Dash’s sonic rainboom, and it was indeed pointin’ me back to Ponyville. Maybe it made more of an impression ‘cos I was comin’ my hooves off, stuck on the end of Blackmane’s dick, gettin’ all stretched out inside while he smacked me across th’ face with the back of his hoof. I knew how to roll with it, not get marked, but I do say that when I saw that rainbow leadin’ home, it seemed like not a half bad idea. An’ that’s the truth. And in less’n a month, home I was, and the cutie mark was jes’ a luxury because I’d gained so very much more.” A pause, and then the three listeners cheered, clapping their hooves. “Yay!” cried Scratch. “Glorious!” agreed Octavia. “Uh…” said Big Macintosh, peering off to the horizon. “Whut happened to the pirates?” “Don’t you worry!” insisted Applejack. “I am still a Blackmane-trained roughneck an’ experienced pirate captain! Ain’t nopony gonna harm a hair of our manes, so you settle down!” “You’re the Dread Pirate Booties?” asked Octavia, in awe. Applejack laid her ears back. “Nah. Not anymore. Ah passed it on.” “You mean…” “Dang straight! I’d taught my crew some things about goodness, and them lessons stuck. But you know what also stuck? Them pirate-ponies, gettin’ stuck up that filly, that’s what. She was a damn quick study, and I ain’t sure I was the wisest of horses for what I decided to do about it all. My crew was right to the point of becomin’ honest sailors… well, mostly honest. And they were every bit as respectful of our skinny unicorn filly as they were of me. Hell, I watched ‘em at it sometimes, and it proper defied gee-ometry, but she was sure happy when she wasn’t straight-up faintin’ dead away. That was a happy crew and no mistake. And so, we sailed back to Manehattan, and I kissed ‘em all goodbye, and I passed on my fetlocks to that filly and she became the new Dread Pirate Booties. An’ off she went.” “Did they stay pirates?” asked Scratch. “It sounds like you’re not sure.” “Well, I ain’t,” admitted Applejack. “I know she’s a good filly. Mare, she’d be, now. I had other concerns. It’s funny, I learned a lot from her in a really short time, about what feminine could look like. I envied her for that and couldn’t forget how different it was from Apple ways. I was always a roughneck, all stallion-y, ready to kick Blackmane’s own face if it pleased me. She was as different as they come. Willowy, graceful… she had my crew wrapped around her hoof, prob’ly a good thing I left when I did. I do remember the moment when she realized bein’ a pirate involved gettin’ loot. That lil’ face lit up like all Hearth’s Warming Morning, and I had to scold her an’ explain that other ponies deserved to have nice things too. We’d sailed around for a while, robbin’ rich boats and givin’ some of the loot to poor fisherponies, and it never seemed like that was the best way of piratin’ anyhow but she really did not like lettin’ loot go, that one. Tiny frail thing, but damn did she like treasure. Yeah… that was our new Dread Pirate Booties.” “Could she become as wicked as Blackmane?” asked Octavia. Applejack thought to herself. “I really don’t think so. Heck, I saw her get her cutie mark, and it wasn’t from bein’ wicked… well, not by Ponyville standards. She was fuckin’ one of the pirate-ponies with all the others jes’ flocking around gazing up at her like she was royalty. Real gentle and nice they were with her, but passionate. She came, and he came in her, and some of ‘em came ON her for good measure jes’ because it was all so beautiful… and she looked out over the others in this benevolent highfalutin’ way, and zang. I was so darn jealous, though I got three things for my cutie mark too, just like her. Apples, mine was. Well, of course it was, we all know that.” “What was Blackmane’s cutie mark?” asked Vinyl Scratch. Applejack snorted. “Skull an’ crossbones, of course! What else? That was the piratiest pirate ever. Glad to see the last of him. If he ain’t dead, he’s still prowlin’ the seas. I beat him once and I would delight in beatin’ him again, and now I’m a full-growed mare. Don’t you fret about Blackmane.” “Or the Dread Pirate Booties?” said Big Macintosh, worriedly. Applejack smiled. “Why, I’d love to see her again. Don’t worry. We don’t have treasure here. Leastways, she wasn’t the sort of pony to steal instruments from musicians. She’d prob’ly force you to play for her real pretty-like, then let you go, even if I wasn’t here with you. And she would remember me, oh yes. And her pirate ship ran on love… well, that and randy fuckin’. Between grace, love, wantin’ treasure and the randy fuckin’, our Dread Pirate Booties was a sight to see. Wicked? Maybe in some ways, but for all that she was kind. An’ very, very beautiful, of course. I’m sure wherever she ended up, she’s leadin’ a life of elegance.” “Elegance on a pirate ship?” said Big Macintosh, his ears laid back in confusion. “If she ain’t captaining the pirate ship, it’s because she found something better to do with herself,” said Applejack crisply. “Our Dread Pirate Booties was all about treasure, but piratin’ requires a mean streak. Now, she might have got her crew to capture a whole mess of loot for her, but I’m tellin you: I rescued her, and I taught her to be good just like I taught my crew, and she wouldn’t be an evil pony. Hell, I even know her real name, though I’m not sure where she ended up. You never can tell who’s got a past as a Dread Pirate Booties. I bet she still loves treasure, mind you, but there are kinder ways to get it.” Vinyl Scratch peered over the rim of her sunglasses. “As somepony with a certain amount of skill in the matter… might these ways involve being sexy and impressing stallions? Kind of like she learned to do, from you, as the Dread But Not Entirely Wicked Pirate Booties and beloved captain of a bunch of horny pirate stallion ponies? Beautiful, sweet, kind, and greedy for treasure and randy fucking?” Applejack shrugged. “Well… that’s ol’ Fleur De Lis for ya!” They sailed on.
Customs“But… are ya sure you’re gonna be okay?” said Applejack. “Eyup.” “Whaddya mean ‘eyup’?” challenged Applejack. Octavia blinked. “Excuse me, Applejack, but doesn’t Big Macintosh often say ‘eyup’? It means ‘yes’ if I’m not mistaken.” Applejack bridled, scuffing the beautiful grass with a hoof. “But it was th’ WAY he said it!” “Uht!” chided Octavia, motioning to the ground. Applejack blushed, and stopped her nervous scuffing. They’d arrived in Neighpon early that morning, struck speechless by the radiance of the dawn as it broke across a jeweled shore of emerald grasses and pristinely painted pagodas. Applejack’s navigation had led them, not to Neighpon’s largest port, but to a small and obscure village with friendly ponies and curious docks that offered not only a place to tie up Applejack’s rented boat, but also the use of mysterious hoists and cranes. These proved very useful in removing the musicians’ gear, and Big Macintosh had assembled the cart that they’d be riding on. All but him. For Big Macintosh, there were the sturdy poles that led forward to his mighty horse-collar. Faced with the need to push not only ponies but also a heavy stack of DJ speakers, they’d continued the harness past the belly-band and hooked it to the middle of Big Macintosh’s collar, allowing him to take the load on his shoulders. Vinyl had suggested a bridle to help steer him, and reins that could lay between the hames of his collar, and both Applejack and Big Macintosh had looked at her very strangely. “Well, what are they for?” Vinyl had asked. “Them’s part of th’ collar,” answered Big Macintosh, and Vinyl had not pressed further. Now, Big Macintosh trotted in place, clearly eager to get underway, and Applejack fussed over him, just as obviously resistant. “Don’t you think he can pull our cart?” asked Octavia. “Why are you so worried?” “Aw, it ain’t that,” said Applejack. “What, then?” Applejack and Big Macintosh pouted at each other, and Applejack scuffed the grass again before remembering. Blushing, she spoke. “Of course I don’t doubt our Big Macintosh. It’s jes’… well, on the one hoof I hope you all have a wonderful time in this beautiful place, an’ on the other hoof? I guess ah jes’ hope there’s a part of you that remembers our happy home, safe an’ waiting for you.” Vinyl Scratch piped up. “It’s safe here! We have Kirin!” “Ah know that,” said Applejack, with a sharp glance at Big Macintosh. “I was jes’ thinkin’… sweet Celestia, what do they have on that there boat comin’ in? Is that… fishes? Looks like they got a mess o’ dead fishes!” Scratch followed Applejack’s disbelieving gaze. “Oh, that… yeah, it’s safe here but it’s kinda different. Those are fishes. You can eat fishes. We’ve got lots of those. And rice, miso…” “Oats? Grass?” boggled Applejack. “Y’all got me shy to stomp on just plain ol’ grass, and now I see them unicorns done kilt a whole bunch of fishes and that’s okay?” “Not needlessly!” protested Vinyl Scratch. “They’ve got to keep their strength up! The system works. I promise, the food here is good once you get used to it.” “Strength up fer what?” said Applejack. “Dancin’ across grass? What if I din’t want to eat no pieces of fishes and I wanted to eat some grass?” “Needlessly?” “You tell me!” Vinyl shook her head. “You’re used to grass, plus you’re an earth pony… anyway it’s for you to tell me. Are ya hungry? I know ship food gets monotonous, because I remember what it was like coming to Ponyville when I was little. Apple turnip cakes might store well, but they certainly don’t taste as good as grass.” Applejack winced. “Granny does her best! And I am a lil’ bit hungry now that you mention it, and what does me bein’ an earth pony have to do with anything?” Vinyl laid her ears back. “I only mean, Neighponnese unicorns are different. It’s cultural, ya know? There isn’t as much of a need for our earth ponies to eat fish… in ancient times our samurai protected the villages and needed to be strong and fierce, and unicorns still play a special role with the…” “Kirin!” cried Applejack. “Yeah, you got it! Now that we’re in Neighpon it might be a good idea to tell you more about…” “No,” said Applejack, “I mean here come some Kirin right now!” Down they came, trotting gracefully on a rainbow that formed below their cloven hooves, calling “Greetings! Welcome!”… but the gracefulness was short-lived. Big Macintosh, overcome with excitement, began to prance and leap. So did the cart he was harnessed to, and the sturdiness of the harness’s attachment to his collar delivered his force undiminished. “Hey—HEY!” screamed Vinyl Scratch. Her horn flared desperately to life, and a field of blue magic caught one of her decks as it flew over the side. She heaved a deep breath, her eyes wild. “YOU ARE SO FIRED, YOU’RE SO FUCKING FIRED RIGHT NOW…” And just like that, the Kirin were among them, zeroing in on the panicky horses, delivering pats and soothing words. “Please don’t be upset? Whatever the problem is, we’ll take care of it.” The results were immediate, and also opposite. The female Kirin had gone to Big Macintosh. The instant he got a close look at her, he quit capering, and blushed even more scarlet than usual. The male had cuddled Vinyl Scratch, and his magic firmly took the turntable from her and placed it on the now-quiet cart. “There there, little one,” he cooed. She trembled madly, her face contorting, and then burst into noisy, squalling tears in his hooves. “Whut… jes’ happened?” said Applejack, and took off her hat, surveying the aftermath. The female Kirin, seeing that Big Macintosh had quieted, turned to Applejack with a smile. “This strong horse has never seen Kirin before! He became so excited. Please do forgive him.” “Uh-huh,” said Applejack, wryly. “Ain’t the first pretty Kirin that’s seen him excited. You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, missy.” “I beg your pardon?” said the Kirin. Octavia was coaxing the other Kirin to let go. “Scratchie! Yes, excuse me, darling, I shall handle this…” His ears were back in a fretful expression. “I fear she may rage further.” “She won’t,” said Octavia firmly. “And Big Macintosh won’t jump around when he’s in harness. WILL you, Big Macintosh?” “Eenope,” said Big Macintosh quietly, still blushing. “Whatever got into you, anyhow?” “Nuthin’…” Applejack put her hat back on. “I reckon it’s blown over, whatever it was. Hello there! An’ what brings you to this fish-filled lil’ village by th’ sea?” Vinyl Scratch wasn’t done. She glared petulantly at the male Kirin, and said, “I could have handled that.” “You are so sure your reaction was needful?” he said, guardedly. “Yeah,” said Scratch, “and I’m like the tour manager, and…” “A tour of entertainers?” asked the female Kirin. “Oh, how nice!” “And,” continued Scratch, “you took my deck away from me and grabbed me.” The ponies fell silent, watching the unexpected standoff between expatriate unicorn and male Kirin. Octavia in particular marveled. What had got into her DJ friend, to flip her usual hero-worship of Kirin into this pugnaciousness? The Kirin considered this. “Yes, I did. It seemed a valuable item to you and I feared you would drop it. The aura of your magic seemed somewhat… weak.” “But piquant?” retorted Scratch bitterly. “Did you like touching it?” She was trembling, and Octavia hugged her again. The Kirin frowned. “I don’t understand your distress about this. And of course! To love and support all unicorns is a blessing.” His companion gave him a look. “Kawa, dear?” “Yes, fair Yosuru?” “Please wait over there.” She gestured courteously with a hoof, and with a puzzled look, he trotted off to stand under a nearby tree. “Kawa means no harm,” explained the female Kirin, “but he falls easily into his nature…” “Yeah,” said Scratch plainitively. “I’m sorry…” “Oh, please do not be!” protested Yosuru. “I am experienced enough to have seen these things. You… attached?” “Ah swear,” announced Applejack, “I got no idea what y’all are talking about. Mind fillin’ me in?” Scratch winced. Yosuru noted this, and took on an air of brisk, businesslike authority. “You are welcome here. Is it all of you? Or just some?” “Me, and Tavi,” said Scratch, “and this big red idiot! I’m sorry, I won’t yell at him. No harm done, huh? And I’m telling you, I could have caught both decks. Is there any way you can pass word around, you know, horns off my decks?” “How seriously would you wish us to take this word?” asked the Kirin. “Must we let your precious thing be destroyed, for fear of our touching it?” Scratch looked miserable. “No, no. I’m really sorry. This isn’t how I wanted this to go…” “Do not dwell on it,” counseled the female Kirin. “Though it may be distressing… will you need Kawa? For personal adjustments? Or myself?” Scratch shook her head, even as Applejack said, “You would think this would get a mite less confusing as you keep carryin’ on, but it’s clear as mud. Personal what now?” “Am Ah still fired?” asked Big Macintosh plainitively. Vinyl Scratch turned to him. “You carry our stuff GENTLY from now on. Got it? And I think we’re done here. There will be lots of Kirin everywhere if we need ‘em, it’s not urgent to take care of it right away.” “But take care of WHAT?” demanded Applejack. Vinyl blinked at her. “Well, they can make Ponyville’s stud-horse there be firing blanks. Do you want to be infertile, Big Macintosh? You still gotta be our roadie, so don’t get too distracted by pretty tails along the way!” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. He shook his head frantically. “Suit yourself,” replied Scratch. She looked at the female Kirin. “Maybe he’ll like Applejack. Not that she’s much more use to him! Uh, sorry again. I think we should hit the road, though. Is that okay? I’ll handle introducing these ponies to Neighpon. And if we need help we’ll ask, okay?” The female Kirin nodded, and smiled. “Quite okay. Go with our blessing. May your music all be sweet!” Scratch grinned. “That just proves you haven’t heard all my music. Tavi, ya ready?” “I don’t know whether this is some diplomatic meeting that we’re doing wrong!” protested Octavia. “No, no, nothing like that! It’s… services, that we don’t need. Or at least don’t need right now,” corrected Scratch. “Stop fidgeting, Big Macintosh, and giddyup!” Big Macintosh had been trotting in place, but at that word, he sprang forward… or, rather, he stopped in mid-leap, looked embarrassed, and then pushed gently at his harness. The cart moved smoothly forward, and he added more and more muscle until the cart with Vinyl, Octavia and a load of musical instruments and DJ gear was zooming away across the ravishingly beautiful landscape. Soon it was gone, leaving Applejack blinking in puzzlement at the female Kirin, and the male Kirin at his diplomatic distance. “Do ya need me to run off too?” asked Applejack. “Ah kin try to scare up some sailors, or find out if anypony’s travellin’ up Canterlot way. Usually there’s somepony who’ll serve as crew.” She twitched. “Uh, so Ah hear!” “No, indeed!” said Yosuru. “Our hospitality extends to you too. Are you not the brave Applejack who battled terrible vampires?” Applejack’s eyes widened. “Well, one was proper terrible an’ no mistake, and the other’s our little cuddle-fangy-pie and don’t you go fretting her. Oh, wait, there was two bad ‘uns, not countin th’ home team. Sorry! To hear Fluttershy an’ Pinkie tell it, Snowy was even worse’n Hollyhock!” Kawa, the male Kirin, wandered back over, fascinated. “Then it is all true? In Ponyville the simple earth ponies fight monsters?” Applejack scratched her head. “Well, there’s th’ vampires of course. A chimera tried to git Apple Bloom one day, but I settled its breakfast. Discord ain’t prop’ly a monster, more of a disaster… um, the occasional dragon, not countin’ Spike obviously… griffons is more a hot roll in th’ hay, at least Gilda, but watch out for them claws and I ain’t tellin’ you how I learned, oh and of course the hydra, and mustn’t forget the bugbear. Parasprites ain’t so bad when you leave ‘em be and don’t have unicorns playin’ fancy tricks with ‘em, Diamond Dogs ain’t prop’ly monsters at all except you got to step lively and not make silly mistakes with ‘em, Timberwolves is just part of the Zap Apple harvest to us…” The Kirin gawped in astonishment. Kawa’s eyes were wide. “I see it is true.” “Feel her pony heart,” said Yosuru appreciatively. “Not even a grudge!” Applejack eeped, jumping back. “Er, that’s okay! My heart is jes’ fine where it is!” “No, kind mare!” soothed Yosuru. “You need not fear us! I meant through Kirin methods.” Applejack narrowed her eyes. “Right. I do remember the Kirin who came to town when we broke out in vampires. Cain’t fault her for feelin’ up a storm but I’m not quite sure where the methods come in.” Kawa gasped. “A Kirin came to your town? All that way?” Yosuru touched a magic-fetlocked cloven hoof to his muzzle, quieting him. “I know about this. She was very young. Still unweaned. She learned much.” “Young and unweaned, my pony ass,” quipped Applejack. “She went with Big Macintosh, and that ain’t milk, I’ll tell ya right now. She made a big impression.” Applejack frowned. Yosuru’s eyes widened. “Your aura!” “Nay, her tears,” said Kawa. It was true. Applejack’s banter had broken down as soon as she’d raised the issue of Hina, and her eyes welled up with tears. The Kirin fretted, trotting in place on the grass and not counting the bent blades for a change. Kawa glanced at Yosuru, the elder, deferentially. Yosuru bit her lip. “Please, may we comfort your hurts?” said Yosuru, keeping her distance but directing an open, pleading gaze upon the visiting earth pony. Applejack gulped, and tried to smile. “Ain’t you some fluffy, huggy critters… reminds me of home.” “Is that yes?” asked Yosuru, trying to sense Applejack’s emotional state without digging too deeply into her psyche. “Sure. C’mere.” And Applejack cried into the Kirin mare’s untroubled mane, as she and her male companion cuddled and petted their charge. “There, there, there,” soothed Yosuru. “You can talk when you’re ready. There is no hurry. We devote ourselves to you.” “Y’do, huh?” grumbled Applejack. “Ah shouldn’t be carryin’ on this way. Some monster-fightin’ tough mare I am!” “Not at all,” chided Yosuru gently. “The harness-horse, he is surely your brother. The bonds of family love! How can that be wrong?” “Nice of you to say it… maybe I’m jes’ imagining things… we’re gonna miss him so dang much…” “The ties of the heart chafe when they are first stretched,” said Kawa. “He has not travelled before?” said Yosuru. Applejack sniffled. “Not sure Fillydelphia really counts. Dammit! Back in Ponyville he was more fretful than a unicorn usin’ a porcupine for a mane-brush, how come we got here and he’s dashin’ off with high steps an’ it’s me who’s the cry-filly?” “Would you not give him the gift of joy in his journey?” suggested Kawa. “Say what now?” The male Kirin hugged her closer. “He seems a good horse. Won’t it hurt him to know he left you lonely?” “Aw, now,” said Applejack, “that’s puttin’ it kinda strong. I’m worried for him, to tell you the truth. Ain’t the first time he’s left home for love, assumin’ I’m right about that. He ran away to Appleloosa once, with our second cousin Braeburn. And brung him back to live with us, even!” “Do you see?” said Yosuru. “Pony love and family is a powerful force. Let your brother enjoy his travels with us. You’ll be there to welcome his happy return.” Applejack sniffled, and grinned. “With a young Kirin in tow! What’d you say, unweaned? Hate to say it but our boys in Ponyville kin make use of that behavior. Hope she likes protein.” “Who?” said Yosuru, puzzled. “Hina! You know, the Kirin that visited us. I’m his sister, you think I don’t know his mind? He won’t say nothin’ but I’m convinced it ain’t just music he’s after.” Yosuru blinked. “I think not,” she said. “I don’t know Hina… but she is still a Kirin. Even in her naivete she would not presume that. We don’t work that way.” “Did ya check her cooter when she got back?” suggested Applejack. “I reckon you manage jes’ fine. In fact from what little he was willin’ to say, she’s a real prize, top class cooter and Big Macintosh has had th’ chance to compare a few. He got mad when I tried to find out if she was better’n an alicorn Princess, and that alone speaks volumes.” “No, I mean… We belong to all Neighpon,” said Yosuru earnestly. “Of course she could satisfy. It’s our gift.” “Heh!” said Applejack. “You sound like Dashie! I’m sorry you din’t get to practice on our visiting farm pony. I think he’d have given you a shock!” “There are Kirin everywhere,” said Kawa, with a shrug. “They will attend him. If he needs our services.” “I reckon,” said Applejack. She gave him a hug, then Yosuru. “Thankee! I’ll get movin’, I need to ask about crew for sailin’ back to Canterlot. Might need to stay the night, but I don’t mind workin’ and I’m sure somepony can put me up. I surely do appreciate your snuggly ways, this is a nice country…” Kawa cleared his throat. “YOU as well, no less than he, stand as our guest.” Applejack froze, and glanced back at the handsome male Kirin. “Ya don’t say?” Yosuru tsked. “Kawa, she has expressed her wishes to us.” “Even so,” replied her companion. “Hospitality demands that I offer.” Yosuru’s retort died in her throat, as the visiting earth pony mare not only stopped leaving, but turned to face the male Kirin with an inquisitive gaze and a flicking tail. “Well, now,” said Applejack. “You wouldnt’a known this, but I got this friend, named Twilight Sparkle. And she’s got a friend named Trixie. And they’re a pair of unicorn mischief-makers the likes of which you ain’t never seen, but there’s one story they never would tell. Said it’s not fair to tease, ‘cos ponies don’t get to just go to Neighpon…” “Please go on,” said Kawa. “I intend to,” said Applejack. “Seems as they departed Neighpon with Discord an’ our Princess Celestia, somepony saw fit to entertain our unicorns and alicorns with a little Neighponnese send-off. With Kirin. Male Kirin. Four of ‘em. And the sheer smugness on these unicorns, well, it told a story all its own. And that’s around when Twilight Sparkle refused to tell any more, on account of it would be rude to Princess Celestia. Which I’ll tell you is purest horse-hockey, ‘cos she’s a mare jes’ like anypony and I’m kinda proud of her for gettin’ out and shakin’ it a little, after all those years!” Yosuru and Kawa studied her for a while. “What are you asking?” said Yosuru. “If, indeed, you are asking?” “Dang right I am,” said Applejack. “Do you have special Kirin stallions with rare talents for fuckin’?” Kawa gave a little half-smile, and Yosuru gently cuffed him with a fluffy, cloven hoof. “Oh, tell her.” “All Kirin stallions,” corrected Kawa. “It is our duty, and our preciousest gift.” “Bein’ a proper mare-melter?” said Applejack. “Life,” said Kawa solemnly. Applejack’s ears went back for a moment, and she re-settled her hat on her head. “Run that by me again?” she said. “Are Twi and Trixie gonna pop out with Kirin twins?” Both Kirin flinched, but covered it with practiced diplomatic poise. “You misunderstand,” said Yosuru. “It is not that sort of gift. Kirin exist alongside pony society. We don’t seed ponies. We provide comfort. And we make possible what would be impossible…” “For unicorn mares,” concluded Kawa. Applejack’s brow scrunched as she worked it out. “Mebbe… kinda like they done for the Princess Luna… Ah got it! Unicorns, huh? Do you mean that in Neighpon, earth ponies and unicorns can make families and have foals all they want because you critters get in there and prime those pussies for ‘em?” Yosuru’s diplomacy was sorely tested by the ebullient crassness of the Ponyville mare. Kawa, on the other hand, looked gloriously smug. “Any unicorn pussy,” he confirmed. “And health care. And for when they wish no foals.” Applejack turned to the female Kirin. “And kin Kirin pussy do the same thing for a stallion? Make him gush like a zebra, or cork up? Uh, except that’d hurt somethin’ awful, don’t ask me how I know…” Yosuru’s smile was awkward, but sincere. “We have other magic gifts. All Kirin have great powers. Kirin mares devote themselves to pleasuring. We are very good at absorbing magic. We share that. But it is the stallions who excel at husbandry.” “Works on stallions, too,” admitted Kawa, “but some don’t like it that way. And it’s far more difficult.” “How so?” pressed Applejack, swishing her tail again. “There is no direct connection to the parts…” Applejack laughed. “Got ya! You’re right. Mind you, we got plenty of stallions up each others’ tails just for sport! Damn. Here’s your Kirin doctor, takin’ your temperature! Don’t mind when he blows his load, it’s just cooling fluid!” “It could be,” noted Kawa. “If a pony is running a bad fever…” It was Applejack’s turn to flinch. “Sweet Celestia. Ya come COLD spooge?” He shook his head. “Kirin are magic! You misunderstand. We are not horses.” “But…” stammered Applejack. “whaddya come, then?” Both Kirin looked smug. “Just magic,” said Kawa. “For all purposes.” Applejack studied him, in awe and trepidation. “Okay. Lemme get this straight. Just ‘cause I’m here on your shores, good old Captain Applejack out of Canterlot ferryin’ passengers to Neighpon, you’re gonna give me a magic hocks-wobbler and send me on my way?” Kawa cleared his throat. “Anything you wish,” he said, and Yosuru nodded. Applejack seemed frozen in place, her eyes very wide. She gulped. “Ya mean it?” she said. “Anything you wish,” he repeated, earnestly. Applejack licked her lips, feeling a little light-headed. She giggled, nervously. “Husbandry…” she said. “It is our calling…” “Kin ya… help two mares to conceive? Jes’ between them, I mean?” That broke the spell. Kawa and Yosuru looked at each other, startled. They glanced back at her, apologetic. “Regrettably, no… because mares produce a kind of egg, not semen…” Applejack’s heart was pounding. “What if she kin? I mean, I can. We can…” “No, you can’t,” began Kawa, and Yosuru shushed him again. “Let her speak.” Applejack took a deep breath. “Okay. Here’s th’ thing… I got half an idea this here might be shocking to y’all, but it’s our way. Least it is now… our Twi and Trixie, they came up with this way to make lil’ magic bit things. You bite down on it, you get a magic dick, maybe not so little in that case, and y’ go to town. Switch back an’ forth, go all night or until your pegasus is losin’ too many feathers from all the erotic explodin’ she gits up to. They kin fly so you kin keep going even after they can’t walk… the point being, we’re mares but we can have it both ways, kinda.” The Kirin looked on, stunned. Applejack pressed on. “And I can see this don’t sit well with ya but it’s our way and my Rainbow, she’s foaled sort of with me but also sorta… not. But I ain’t talkin’ about her, I mean I ain’t talkin’ about her gettin’ pregnant again, she probably don’t want to now that she’s back in top flyin’ shape though she was gosh dern good at it, being pregnant I mean. But… Aw, dang it. Kirin, kin I please have my Dashie lay me and I’ll get pregnant by it? I won’t make it no habit or nothin’. But I’ve raised our foal an’ with the help of some unicorn magic I even nursed her for a time and I’ve had just a lil’ taste of what Dashie had. And now that you’re talkin’ this way, there is nothing that I want more than to be my Rainbow Dash’s mare.” Yosuru looked at Kawa. Kawa looked at Yosuru. “Pregnant mare,” clarified Applejack. Her legs were trembling as she stood. She bit her lip, dropped her gaze, blushing. “Feel her,” suggested Yosuru. “Sure, if ya want,” said Applejack, “but what I mean is…” “Sh! No, I mean, Kawa, feel her heart!” He gulped. “The purity…” “Actually I was hopin’ it’d be kinda dirty, that’s just my way,” added Applejack. “It’s the Ponyville way, don’t you dare make foals if you ain’t got the sense to come your tail off doin’ it…” “Please be quieter,” said Yosuru, “we must combine and consult.” “Huh?” “I’m not qualified. We need permission.” Applejack fell silent, scuffing the grass and then remembering and smoothing it down again. The Kirins’ horns lit and wove a tracery of light, and a streamer of magic shot off into the sky. Then it cut out, and they waited. Then, just as Applejack was about ready to stampede off home from sheer tension, a rainbow cut through the sky, forming with uncommon speed. Applejack gulped, hoping it was a good omen. A speck of light moved along the rainbow. It was a Kirin, almost completely draped in magic that went beyond mane and fetlocks… tail, eyebrows, everything was luminous and shining. Its goatee reached nearly to the rainbow it ran on… and run it did, galloping for dear life, at a pace that would have exhausted most any normal pony and would challenge even the fastest pegasus. Applejack gulped, hoping she wasn’t about to be arrested. In what seemed like an instant, the newcomer arrived. It was a male Kirin, and startlingly old, though his bearing betrayed no weariness even after his mad gallop. He trotted down to the grass without so much as bending it, nodded to Kawa and Yosuru, said “Children.” “Daiyam,” murmured the younger Kirin reverently. He lifted his chin, and with just a look, they fell silent. He turned to Applejack, and his eyes just drank her in, as no expression passed across his face. Applejack blushed, scuffed the grass yet again, caught herself, smoothed it and gave him a truculent look… but, somehow, still pleading. Her lower lip poked out, just a bit, and as it did, Applejack looked much like her foal Northern Spy. Her jaw tightened, and a hint of Granny Smith entered the mix. And then the barest hint of frightened tears suggested that hidden, vulnerable side of Rainbow Dash, but Applejack didn’t lower her gaze, not for some Celestia-damned Neighponnese elder d…deity… “This mare has a mother’s heart,” said Daiyam, casually. “Ah beg your pardon?” blinked Applejack. He smiled, then, and her heart leapt. He nodded, thoughtfully, speaking: “How precious the vase / trusted to hold the water / permitted one crack?” Applejack whispered to Yosuru, “Is he askin’ whether he gits to have a turn?” “Sh,” whispered Yosuru. The exchange seemed to amuse Daiyam… but then, the smile faded. He looked sternly at Yosuru and Kawa, particularly at Yosuru. “A tumbling rock / strikes the wind chimes so sweetly / and then moves along.” Yosuru paled. She nodded. “Understood.” The smile was back, as if it had never left. “Yes,” said the old Kirin. He nodded slowly, smiled again at Applejack, and sprang lightly onto his rainbow. And, with no further remarks, he trotted unhurriedly up the rainbow, which dissipated after him. They watched him go. “Dang,” said Applejack. “What was all that? You know, Dursaa once talked about Shy havin’ a fiercely churning crack an’ Pinkie was really offended. Is that really a nice way to talk about mares?” “No, no!” protested Yosuru. She gathered her composure, and added, “No. Daiyam speaks forth in beauty. It is for us to hear him. I know what he meant.” “Mind fillin’ me in?” said Applejack. She snickered, and prodded Kawa with a hoof. “I’m happy enough it’s this feller lookin’ to fill me in. The old geezer seems spry enough but he’s so dang serious!” “This is serious!” retorted Kawa. “You will see.” “Don’t undervalue Daiyam,” chided Yosuru. “It is honor just to have his permission. Our culture’s the vase. The crack is what we will do. It is his way of saying that there’s no harm in this. You will move along. Ahhhhh… please don’t bring magic bits here.” Applejack blinked. “Hadn’t occurred to me. He said that?” “Yes… the rock. Both in the second poem, and implicit in the first. I’m quite sure. Forgive us? They have no place here.” “Well, all right. Hmph. Y’know, we let Kirin in, and a dern fussy Kirin it was too,” said Applejack, and pondered. “But now that I think about it, she didn’t get up to this sort of stuff when she was in Ponyville, apart from walkin’ on some rainbows.” She chuckled. “At least, until my own Rainbow blew it up and caught the lil’ sweetie in mid-air, for a joke. An’ she was a good sport about it, too. All right. Let Ponyville be Ponyville, and you kin be Neighpon.” “We thank you,” said Yosuru. Applejack was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “You ain’t foolin’ me? About me and Dash, I mean? There… there might be a chance that you kin make me fertile to her with a bit and dick an’ all?” “Not a chance,” said Kawa. Applejack’s face fell. She looked down, and then back up at him with angry eyes. “Well, shit, son, weren’t that a lot of fuss for nothin’?” “No, listen!” he urged. “I mean it literally. It is not a chance. It is certainty. Kirin know of these bit things. But not that you would wield one! We sent lots of information to Daiyam. Many Kirin joined. Though it is a one time thing… we are confident. It pleases us to give a mother a foal. Because that mother is you.” Applejack gaped at him. She tried to speak, but her lip was quivering too hard. His smile had gone blurry, or else it was her brimming eyes, or both. Applejack took a deep breath. “My sakes, Mister Kawa. Ya got me so emotional I forgot to be horny. Dashie would be ashamed of me for that. Gimme a minute? I mean, if we’re gonna get busy out here an’ all?” He shook his head. “We know this town well.” “They won’t stand for it?” “They will offer us the finest suite in the tavern. It’s good fortune to favor any Kirin: how much more, when I perform service for an honored guest from far Canterlot?” “Dang,” marvelled Applejack. They walked sedately along the docks, into the little town. The Kirin walked decorously to either side of Applejack, as if part of a small parade. After several foreleg-hugs, she’d got them to snuggle up closer, and they all walked slower, to have time for nuzzling and kisses.
Your Assistance“Where does this big speaker go, Scratchie?” asked Octavia. Scratch frowned. “You shouldn’t be moving it, Tavi. It’s heavy!” Octavia scoffed. “It’s fine! Oof… mostly fine! I’m strong enough, Scratchie, don’t worry.” “Yeah, but… we have a roadie for a reason, Tavi! Townsponies don’t want to see you lugging equipment. Besides, I can carry my decks but look at that thing! What if it topples over and smushes you? You know my magic isn’t strong enough to stop it.” “I’ll pretend it’s Stout Heart. You know, when he’s all spent afterwards. It shall inspire me. Big Macintosh can carry the other speaker.” “You should carry the amps!” argued Scratch. “Or actually, not even the amps. We’re splitting the take three ways, Tavi, and he doesn’t even play, and he’s super strong. This is his part to do, and I do the wiring and sound-checking, and you sell the tickets, remember?” “And plan the acoustics,” added Octavia. “I told you about that, Scratchie, that’s why I’m trying to carry the speaker.” “You’re dragging it,” complained Scratch. “It’s got all grass stains around the bottom.” “I’m sure it’s seen worse stains than that, Vinyl Scratch.” Scratch winced, grinning. “Got me there.” “And you simply aren’t taking the acoustics seriously,” said Octavia, “it’s like you think you can set up the speakers any old place, and they’ll be fine!” Scratch blinked. “Uh… they kind of will. Haven’t you heard me play, Tavi? We’re going to rock this whole town.” Octavia pouted. “Indeed I have heard you play, and your strength of personality overcomes much, but I’m convinced it will be even better with proper speaker positioning. There’s a bit of a natural amphitheater over this way, and we can position things so there isn’t a tiresome echo off that cliff. You’ll see.” “Echoes are cool,” countered Scratch. “I’ve played in basements that are just one big echo, and it’s nuts: the place just fills up with sound.” Octavia shuddered demurely, and stuck out her lower lip. “You must trust me. Anyhow, I am opening for you, and I know what my cello will need. Didn’t you see me trotting around and clapping my hooves together, and listening?” “I do trust you,” said Vinyl Scratch earnestly. “Even if I think you shouldn’t be moving those yourself.” “Big Macintosh will move the other speaker,” said Octavia. “I’ll show him where it must go.” Scratch scratched her head, and looked in all directions, as Octavia labored. “Where IS he?” Big Macintosh looked this way and that, wide-eyed and nervous. Heads turned to stare at him: he knew his appearance in the little Neighpon town was causing a stir, but it couldn’t be helped. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement: a pegasus, streaking across the sky, clad in some sort of uniform that was all angles and spikes. Or was it even a pegasus? There was no telling. He ducked back into the shelter of a doorway, and was startled by a squeal. He whirled, to see that he’d been backing up into a little cafe, and had nearly squished an earth pony mare. Her eyes were even wider than his: she hadn’t even recognized his species until he turned, she’d been forced back into the cafe by a titanic farm horse rump that dwarfed her. The cafe smelled of rice, and fish, and vinegar, and of unrecognizable scents of fermented things. She made a little squeaky noise, and stammered “Kyodaina o shiri no akuma,” too awed by him to talk common pony language. Perhaps she was begging his forgiveness, or greeting him in some way? Big Macintosh gulped. “Uhhh… h’lo.” The mare stepped back again, and looked him over, her eyes wide with wonder. She gulped, and said, “Welcome! I… it… welcome!” “Thankee,” rumbled Big Macintosh. “Uhh… nice place y’ got here.” The mare licked her lips. “Cherry BLOSSOMS! If that doesn’t work, nothing will. I can see why she has sent for you.” Big Macintosh blinked. “What’s gonna work? Didja say ‘she’?” “Is your dangura upon the same scale as the rest of you?” asked the mare, stepping closer, fascinated. “My whut? Ah mean, most likely!” said Big Macintosh. “Jes’ a minute. Somepony sent for me?” “To help with our Kirin,” explained the mare. “Happens Ah’m looking for somepony, funny you should mention it. You know where Ah could find,” said Big Macintosh, and gulped, and hoped… “Hina?” “Of course!” cried the mare happily. “I knew it! She has sent for you!” Big Macintosh’s eyes flew wide as saucers. “WHUT?!” “I will bring you to her right away!” Big Macintosh whinnied, and bounced into the air in glee. “YEEHA! Mah love!” The little mare bounced too, beaming huge smiles. “She will feed the Kirin for months this way!” She dashed off, and Big Macintosh thundered in pursuit, shaking the nearby houses. Ponies stared out their windows in alarm, thinking some monster was attacking, and their shock was only increased by the spectacle: a delighted Neighponnese mare, leading a giant stallion whose erection dropped and then flailed around as he ran, barely avoiding being stepped on. Big Macintosh’s whole psyche was fizzing with romance, as he envisioned his Kirin love awaiting him, crying out “Oh, Big Macintosh! Thank goodness you returned to me! I’ve been waiting for simply ever, darling!” There was a slightly larger house, and a door. He screeched to a halt, because smashing down the door might be thought of as rude, and since his helper had pulled up outside the door. He panted, his eyes wild, his mane unkempt. “Eee!” squealed the little mare. “Were I a unicorn, I might squirt just from looking at you!” She peered under his belly, and gulped. “And be very frightened!” “Where is she?” pleaded Big Macintosh. “Here?” “This is the house of Hina!” replied his helper. “Hello?” called a voice from inside. In Big Macintosh’s flustered mind, it seemed like the voice of Rarity, which made sense to him as he’d imagined Hina speaking rather in the manner of his first great love. “Don’t start!” pleaded the little earth pony mare. “I will go fetch the Kirin!” “Whut?” blinked Big Macintosh, but she’d scampered off before he could react, calling out “Daitana! Daitana! Where is he?” “Hello?” called the voice from inside. “Come in!” Big Macintosh, his heart pounding, pushed open the door and stepped inside. If Rarity had been transported suddenly to Neighpon, she could not have lounged any more sumptuously than the elegant, yellow-green unicorn that awaited him. She looked him over, gasped, glanced quickly up to his eyes with an intelligent gaze, then back down to the battering ram this strange, huge horse brought to her. “Well, that’s frightening,” she said. She looked again. “And yet, perhaps possible. Maybe. Curse it, Daitana, I shall ask for some healing magic if this goes awry!” “Ah beg your pardon?” said Big Macintosh. Her eyes ravished him, and she shuddered at the deep rumble of his voice. “Ahnnn. Or not. He is nothing if not thorough!” “Who is?” asked Big Macintosh, confused and beginning to droop. “Daitana,” replied the elegant unicorn. “You are the one for whom he sent?” “Now jes’ a minute,” said Big Macintosh. “Ain’t nopony sent me. I’m lookin’ for somepony and they said she was here. And she ain’t!” “Who, then, do you seek?” asked the reclining unicorn. “Ah’m looking for Hina,” said Big Macintosh, peering into all corners of the room imploringly. The unicorn mare blinked. “But I am Hina,” she replied. Big Macintosh’s jaw dropped. “Aw, horseapples! Um, no offense? But you ain’t the right Hina, ma’am. It’s a Kirin lady I’m lookin’ for.” Her eyes widened. “Hina-RIN!” she exclaimed. “Er… mebbe?” said Big Macintosh, taken aback. Hina made a face. “How vexing! I guess it’s just as well. Then it’s a misunderstanding? Daitana didn’t send you?” “I ain’t never met a Daitana,” said Big Macintosh. “Seems like I remember somepony said she was Hina-rin.” Hina nodded. “Yes! I remember because we share a name. It is like our Daitana-shi. Ah… I should not say that, I should say Daitana-sama, but he is so new here and so aloof, we have taken to calling him Daitana-shi…” “You know where Hina-rin is?” pressed Big Macintosh, urgently. “No!” protested Hina-not-rin. “I am sorry! You need her help? But with an honorific like that, she must be friendly. And perhaps young? I am sure I’ve heard of her, again, because we share a name. I am sure I am very honored, but I don’t know where Hina-rin lives.” Big Macintosh drooped, in every sense. Hina, the unicorn, gave a little whinny of dismay. “I am so sorry! I see your great disappointment. Surely Daitana did not send you, for he would have explained our need. And anyhow he is not here.” She pouted, frustrated. “He is never here, when I am willing. And I am forever willing to welcome him to this, our charming town, and provide him with the energy he needs. It is harder and harder to keep from releasing it, and I am pent up and frustrated.” Big Macintosh backed up a step. “Beggin’ your pardon?” Hina whinnied in outrage. “Not you too? What am I, a dead fish to stallions?” She shook herself. “But no! You are doing us a kindness, making it easier for me to avoid spilling my magic across my ceiling and walls. And probably burning my house down,” she added. Big Macintosh frowned. “Ah don’t mean to offend y’all. I am mighty confused. So, what did you think was fixin’ to happen here?” Hina, the unicorn, sighed. “Our Kirin, Daitana-shi, is odd. He is quite new to our town, and though he claims to be happy here, we cannot feed him. It is said that he’s so low on magic that he could not make love to a unicorn mare and be restored to health. It’s said this shames him, that he would not drink from the fount of our willing horns if he cannot deliver the highest of ecstacies inside us.” “Huh,” said Big Macintosh. “Nice fella?” Hina snorted. “Foolish Daitana-shi! I personally have allowed myself to become so pent up, he might only breathe upon my ravishing vagina and perhaps lick my nipples and I would fountain forth magic in great quantity for him to feast on! It is insulting that he scorns our bounty!” Big Macintosh blinked. This unicorn seemed to resemble Rarity in more ways than one: her opinion of her beauty was also bountiful. Perhaps this Daitana kirin simply didn’t like her arrogance? Hina sighed again. “He begged off, Mister Huge Horse. He suggested that he might find some wonderful lover, and on some other day, he would drink my magic while another lover brought me to glorious orgasm… since he could not do it justice, as low in power as he was.” She snorted. “Again, foolish Daitana-shi. I could feed five Kirin with my horn, and he turns his nose up at it.” “That’s a thing?” asked Big Macintosh. “What do you mean?” “Is it a thing?” asked Big Macintosh. “This gittin’ another pony to help. Feedin’ a Kirin by ballin’ the unicorn for her. That’s a thing?” Hina frowned. “Not especially. It should not be necessary. It would work. You wish such a task? Daitana is not here, so you should not start with me.” “No, no!” said Big Macintosh. “I mean when I find my Hina. Er, Hina-rin. Do you mean Ah could feed her full of magic just by fuckin’ a unicorn just right?” Hina-not-rin made a face. “I suppose. From what I saw of you, it would either be hugely effective, or you would hurt her and require the Kirin’s healing powers. Some mares could stand it, I suppose.” Her eyes grew brooding, sultry. “I’m not sure I’m not one of them. With all this withholding, I could take a dragon, or one of the pink demons, and still orgasm. Perhaps you had better go, or I will waste our gift for our Kirin despite my best intentions. And be injured by you, making it even less proper.” Big Macintosh looked offended. “Ma’am, Ah am a gentle-pony. I ain’t damaged no mare yet. Ah’m a proper stud-pony, I am, good enough for a Princess. Heck, even some stallions!” He winced, remembering. He blinked. “Wait a minute. What pink demons?” She ignored this. “Our Kirin is not here. And I am still not convinced your penis is safe… and everything about this situation is not proper! If Daitana did not send you, who did? Why do you seek a Kirin, when you seem well? Why do you flirt, knowing my issue must be saved for our Kirin?” “Whaddya mean, Ah’m flirtin’?” demanded Big Macintosh. “I told you the truth! Ah know what I am!” “Yeah… IN TROUBLE!” came a wry voice from the doorway. Vinyl Scratch and Octavia were looking in at him. Octavia was frowning, and Scratch was smiling, but not with her eyes. “Oh, horseapples twice,” moaned Big Macintosh. “We’re almost ready to play,” said Scratch. “Leave the groupies for AFTER the gig, okay? You need to come and lift some speaker cabinets, right now!” “Ah’m sorry! Ah’m sorry!” protested Big Macintosh, and turned to go, as Octavia and Vinyl Scratch were already racing back to their improvised stage. “Huge horse!” called Hina, the unicorn. Big Macintosh’s ear turned. “Eyup?” “She is probably in the capital,” said Hina. “Good luck, strange huge horse. Head north.” He blinked. “Thankee.” “Go and lift your speakers!” ordered Hina. “Perhaps I will come and listen to your music.” “Eyup,” replied Big Macintosh, and off he ran. As the musicians and their roadie galloped to the eastern outskirts of town, gentle hoofsteps were heard at the outskirts of town to the west. She appeared, walking out of a leafy bower as if her presence bestowed upon it a blessing. She smiled, not at anypony, just for sheer love of existence and the beautiful things she shared… and that were shared with her. Not a Kirin. Just an earth pony. Only an earth pony. Simple, grey, with green eyes and sandy mane and tail… …but radiant. She was Kichona, and she walked dreamily as if the ground wasn’t quite real. And she looked fondly to the east, hearing the first strains of music, recognizing that the wandering minstrels were preparing to play, and she vowed to go and enjoy their art. She looked behind her, to the west, and the leafy bower, with even more fondness. She’d enjoyed his art every bit as much. More, perhaps. Kichona looked faintly smug… but also, proud. Her body felt like jelly, and he hadn’t used any of his magic, not the tiniest amount. Of course, she was not a unicorn. Some might think it unfitting that the town’s new Kirin should worship a simple earth pony mare, should bring her to endless, gloriously exhausting orgasm with just his cock… and his caresses… and his kisses, in fact all the evidence of his wild, passionate emotion. Kichona politely did not agree. In her deepest heart, she held an iconoclastic thought: her lover, the Kirin Daitana, was completely free. There was no duty he did not willingly accept, and everyone knew the Kirin were pledged to Neighponnese ponykind. Well… If he chose to pledge his life and his love to just one little Neighponnese mare, he had a perfect right to, thought Kichona defiantly… or, at least, with whatever serene defiance she had, to be defiant with. It was difficult to be defiant when one quivered as one walked. No, there was no defiance. How could there be? There was only love, their most perfect love, and every time she saw him she melted away completely, surrendered to everything he was. How could she not? And, miraculously, gratefully, her feelings were returned. Hers was not to question why this great difference had happened. Hers was to appreciate it, in fullness, and this she had been doing in the leafy bower for hours on end. Of course, that wasn’t the only way of love: far from it, he expected many other things besides, and she celebrated many other things about him. But oh, his lovemaking was exquisite, even without magic enhancements. Kichona blinked. What was that noise? Was it he, rushing to be with her again? But he moved with such dignity, never such a heedless gallop. Admittedly, he stuck to the ground ever since he stopped drinking unicorn magic. He’d been uncomfortable with that intimacy, he said, and when he fell in love with earth pony Kichona he’d cut it right out and began to walk like a normal pony, and not on clouds. It seemed responsible, after all if he would not be fed magic in that manner then he’d want to save it for important things. But this hurry of hooves couldn’t be her Daitana, surely? It was not. It was Suzume, silly young Suzume. He’d heard the music, and he was racing out of the woods to beat her to the minstrels’ concert. Toward the… Kichona squealed, “Not there! The holes!” Too late. As Suzume galloped heedlessly into town, not looking where he was going, he cleared a ridge on the way out of the leafy bower, soaring into the air for a moment and coming down with a thump of hind legs and boldly extended front legs. And, before he could think or react, the hole, the dreadful residue of the giant Neighponnese burrowing moles, was right there waiting for his terrible mistake… Suzume went down, with a scream. His foreleg had snapped. Without an instant’s hesitation, Kichona charged to his aid. “Oh, Suzume! No, don’t thrash, be calm, we will find help! Daitana! Daitana!” They were quite far from the village, still. In the distance, ponies could be seen heading still further out of sight: silent tiny figures, trotting to the music performance. Kichona could somehow hear faint strains of the music, even though it seemed to be a stringed instrument. How could it resonate so fully, and be heard from so far away? “Lie still!” ordered Kichona. “I will go to the town, and bring back a…” Suzume squealed, “No!” Kichona blinked. “What?” The colt’s teeth chattered, and he sweated. He gulped, and he begged, “I am dying. Don’t leave me!” Kichona’s ears splayed in frustration, but then she bowed her head. “Minu ga hana,” she said softly, and then she carefully hugged the terrified colt. “No you’re not. It is not true, you’ll be fine! But I will stay with you, dear Suzume. I can find help from where we lay.” She drew a deep breath. “Daitana!” she shouted, once more. “Hear me!” In the distance, the half-heard, beautiful strains of the minstrel’s cello mingled with the sobs of the agonized colt. He began to froth at the mouth. “Breathe, Suzume!” urged Kichona. “Not in that hasty way!” She hugged him again. “Oh, please, calm yourself! Help is coming! DAITANA!” Where was he? He’d spoken of exploring the forest, finding rare plants or fungi that bore trace elements of magic to consume. How far could he have gone, pursuing such things? No more tiny figures could be seen. They’d all gone to the music performance. “DAITANA!” cried Kichona. And then… there he was. Appearing from between the trees, on the far side of the leafy bower. Looking her direction, as she frantically waved him down. Galloping with graceful speed and elegance to join them, his huge deep eyes warm with concern, his bearing speaking of caution and awareness, slowing as he approached the mole-holes. “Kichona!” he cried. “What has happened here?” She looked imploringly at him. No answer was needed, as she cuddled the sobbing colt’s head, staying well clear of his dismayingly crooked foreleg. Daitana paled, taking in the situation. “But…” “We must take him to the pony doctor!” insisted Kichona. Daitana brightened. “Oh, of course! We will take him to the pony doctor right away!” Suzume’s lip quivered. “But…” he whimpered, and looked pointedly at the Kirin’s very un-sparkly horn. Daitana winced. “My power is weak,” he admitted. “I’m young, and perhaps foolish…” “Oh pooh,” said Kichona loyally. “Suzume, we can help you like ponies of old once did. Don’t look at my Daitana so helplessly! Let’s get you to the doctor. We will all work together to make you well.” “Right away?” said the colt, lip quivering. Kichona pouted. “We’ll get you to the doctor right away. Do Kirin exist only to fix your foolishness?” “Oh, Kichona,” sighed Daitana. “Well, it’s true!” protested Kichona. “This colt came heedlessly running, in the belief that the town’s Kirin would fix up any distress, even distress for no good reason!” Then, she hushed, as her Kirin’s cloven hoof gently touched her lips. “Do we distinguish this now? Call some distress good? Scorn other distress as bad?” It didn’t convince his Kichona. “And if they do not care for themselves? Or each other?” Suzume didn’t follow the implications of the discussion. Not for him, concerns of morality, or questions about self-reliance and the abuse of protectors versus the benefits of security as an accepted, felt reality of whatever cost. Suzume wasn’t inclined to debate. Suzume was still a very little colt, and his leg hurt with terrifying intensity, and the grownup and Kirin seemed to have forgotten him. “Waahhhhh!” Daitana and Kichona exchanged one glance. “Lift him onto my back!” said Kichona. “Keep that hoof clear. To the pony doctor!” “If she is watching the show…” began Daitana. “Fetch her!” urged Kichona. Suzume didn’t notice how their town’s new Kirin barely used any magic… he was distracted with his woe, as Kichona and Daitana jockeyed him onto her back. Daitana’s horn did light, but its energies were focussed on the colt’s sad injured leg, exerting some soothing power while it could. “Go…” Kichona nodded, before he’d even finished. “Slowly, of course, my love. I’ll do my best. You go quickly, and fetch the doctor!” He galloped off once more, cloven hooves pounding the grass. Kichona began to walk, but Suzume whimpered piteously. Hearing this, the earth pony mare slowed, and slowed further, until she was drifting forward with a dreamlike smoothness. Step by calm, meditative step, she headed for town and the doctor’s office. By the time they arrived at the doctor’s office, night had come. Suzume, on Kichona’s back, had fallen asleep after a lot of crying. She’d sung soothing lullabies to help him forget his pain, though she sang very quietly: she still wanted to hear the concert, for the music had seemed all the more beautiful and passionate as she gradually approached it. It had turned to an exciting, compelling thumping, and she could see ponies dancing wildly in the distance, and she wondered what was keeping Daitana. Surely he could not have abandoned his purpose and gone out dancing? He had not. Kichona saw him walking up the street. He had Dittsui, the doctor, by the ear. Though he wasn’t quite dragging her by it, all the same it seemed like he was prepared to, if he deemed it necessary. “Ow, quit it!” protested Dittsui. “I expect a thorough healing of my poor ear, and what could you possibly need me for anyway? We have a Kirin and that’s you and let me go back and dance some more!” Kichona giggled. “Dittsui-san!” she called. “Be good!” “Kichona! You should be able to talk to this crazy Kir… good heavens, is that Suzume?” Daitana released her, and Dittsui trotted up, complaints forgotten, to study the sleeping colt. Her horn lit, inquisitively. “That’s a bad break,” she said, and turned to Daitana. “Heal it!” The Kirin blushed. “We will use classic methods…” “What for?” blinked Dittsui. “We have you!” “He must heal naturally,” said Daitana. “I am still too weak.” “How? Hina’s been going around telling us she’s going to pump you full of so much magic you’ll pop!” Daitana winced. “It would not be right… to have such a thing. You assume… I mean… what if I said I had never fed that way?” Dittsui cheered. “What an honor!” “What do you mean, an honor?” protested Kichona. At that, Dittsui gulped. “Oops. I am sorry, Daitana-sama. We don’t talk of this before the earth ponies and foals.” Kichona bridled. “And which am I, Dittsui? I think I know what you mean.” “Oh, all right then,” said Dittsui. She turned to Daitana again. “You don’t think you can get her off without some magic in the tank? See here, I’ll send for Hina right away and personally lick her to orgasm while you wait! Then she can do me, though I’m afraid my boyfriend is sooooo good I can’t save it up like Hina can…” “No, no!” protested Daitana, who’d blanched and looked helplessly at his beloved Kichona. “None of that,” said Kichona. “What if he doesn’t want to? We’ll do classic methods, you must know them.” Daitana gulped. “Mostly classic methods,” he said. He dared not argue with Dittsui further. Every word filled him with guilt, but in the presence of his Kichona he could not bear the notion of guzzling magic from the town’s vain, self-centered councillor: a governance position that seemed inevitably held by the… juiciest unicorns Neighpon had to offer. They, the Kirin, had struggled so hard to rein in the fiercest and greediest ponies, and somehow it persisted: Neighponnese ponies could turn even generosity into a kink, could turn even the willing venting of their power into a way to be superior. He’d seen Hina. She’d drooled (though, admittedly, cutely) and could not stop staring at his mouth. She’d begun to wriggle, and dribbles of magic leaked from her horn. He’d never met her, but all the same his magic unerringly sensed the tone of her thoughts, and he recoiled. Hina had been nearly overcome with pride. She saw herself as part of a system to sustain him, and she knew that between her magical juiciness and her devotion to her purpose, she’d bring the town the most magically-potent Kirin for miles around. No other unicorn could rival her, and nothing else equine even entered the equation. She would be his constant companion, and his greatest supply, almost like an extension of him. The traces of scorn in her thinking dismayed him. The glee in her own bounty disturbed him: Hina assumed he’d gravitate to her as the most powerful, and rejoiced in the idea, acting like he would immediately begin suckling on her horn while screwing her senseless. The way she’d become angry at him when he made excuses and fled? That horrified him. He was so new to that type of nourishment! Other Kirin had fed him until so recently. The first unicorn he’d fed from had been so shy and nice. So humble! The other Kirin, a female, had licked her and used magic to stimulate her, and she’d blushed so cutely, and her horngasm was delicious but not overwhelming. Still, it had filled him with a power he’d never imagined. The next one had been a male unicorn he’d met on the road, and that one had clopped off for him, insisting on the honor of sustaining a journeying Kirin. He’d been a traveling silk merchant and apologized that his power was not as great as his wealth. It was such a… piquant contrast between that unicorn stallion’s comfort and opulence, and the deep humility he felt about his magical capabilities. And now, this? Daitana knew the townsponies would not accept him leaving this colt injured. He wished no such fate for the unfortunate foal. But the idea of guzzling from vain Hina’s horn, while his beloved looked on and Hina sneered at her for the earth pony she was… no! So, his horn lit, and he strained to extract the final, hoarded scraps of his magical energy, and he reached out with a flickering tendril of thaumic force. “You know,” said Dittsui, “I have lubricating salves in the office, right? If a physical connection will help I’m almost sure I can fit some of you up his anus.” Daitana shuddered. Neighponnese unicorns could be horrifyingly practical about use of their Kirin. “Nay,” he replied, and concentrated. Inside the colt’s leg, bones shifted and merged. His eyes flew open in shock, but then Daitana had soothed the nerves and removed all pain, which itself consumed further magic. Every tiny aspect of healing demanded more magic, and he sweated as he forced himself onward… It stopped. Suzume chirped, “YAY!” and leapt off Kichona’s back, to be caught physically by a frantic Kirin. “He must use a cast!” begged Daitana. “What?” blinked the doctor, Dittsui. “A cast,” insisted Daitana, “a splint. He will heal, but must not jump around for a while. Please!” Dittsui regarded him in puzzlement. “You aren’t very good, are you? Is it okay if we get another Kirin? We’ve got really good unicorns here, we ought to be able to have much better Kirins than you. No offense meant.” Daitana interposed himself between his lover and the doctor. “Oh, certainly, none taken! Just do the splint, okay? I don’t want him to hurt himself.” “You don’t even talk like a Kirin,” complained Dittsui. “Can you, like, get repaired by other Kirin or something? It’s weird.” Daitana gulped, and took a deep breath. “We appreciate… your capable help and splint… which you’ll do now, please?” “Oh, sure, I totally will. I was just saying you’re not much of a Kirin,” replied Dittsui. “Of course I’ll do my part. And you should go and find a unicorn and get recharged. What, does Hina scare you? We really should get a bigger Kirin for this town. If you can’t drink from Hina it’s going to be a problem, she’ll only get more pent up. She’s, like, totally committed to feeding you so if you can’t take it, we’re gonna need a Kirin who can.” His eyes were distraught. Behind him, Kichona’s eyes seethed, but rather than lash out, she lowered her head and took a breath to calm herself. “Thank you, Dittsui,” she said courteously. “We appreciate your—your honesty. Suzume, don’t jump about, Dittsui will fasten a thing to your leg to help it heal and strengthen.” “Awwww!” whined the colt. “That’s right!” said Dittsui. “It won’t hurt. It’s for helping keep your leg straight, ponies in olden days did that!” She winked at him. “If you’re good, maybe we’ll have another Kirin come and do it all at once for you, won’t that be nice?” “Yay!” “And you should be grateful,” scolded the doctor. “We’re going to have Kirin so powerful that they won’t have to do uncomfortable things to get a better connection into you. And you should be grateful for this Kirin, too! He’s set and knitted your bones and taken away the pain, say thank you!” “Thank you,” repeated Suzume, dutifully. He frowned. “What do you mean, uncomfortable things?” “Special Kirin things that you earth ponies shouldn’t have to know about,” explained Dittsui, “now walk gently this way, soon I’ll have you trotting in safety…” As they walked into the doctor’s office, they didn’t even glance at how Kichona was leading their balky Kirin away. “I’m no good!” sobbed Daitana. “I am a mere foal, useless!” Kichona hugged him fiercely. “No you’re not! Calm down. Everything will be all right, I promise.” They’d ducked behind a house, out of sight from the townsponies, before Daitana had burst into tears. “They only want to use me, and I can’t even do that!” Kichona frowned, and nuzzled her despairing lover. “They are just ponies, like me, Daitana. Forgive them. What can we do, to work through all this?” Then, she gasped. Daitana’s head had lifted and his eyes transfixed hers. “Not like you,” he said. “There is nothing like you.” “Oh, Daitana,” she said, and hugged him tighter. “I’m fine. It’s you I care about, now.” “What if I can’t drink from this Hina?” he asked. Kichona made a face. “I could stand her smugness. Are you afraid she will choke you? You told me about these unicorns. You said your first ones were not so overwhelming.” Daitana’s expression was woeful. “You should not have to stand that…” “It’s all right,” said Kichona winsomely. “I’m only an earth pony mare.” “No!” insisted Daitana. “You’re not. You have the most beautiful soul, Kichona. Your face, your body, are incomparable. You are all ponies, and th… the only…” He trailed off, shocked at what he was saying. Kichona’s eyes shone. “Daitana? I love you, of course. I know Kirin are said to love all ponies, though of course unicorns are just more important, and now I know why that is. You told me, and silly Dittsui knows all about it, and I can’t give you that.” Daitana’s mouth opened, and Kichona’s hoof gently touched his lips, silencing his protests. “What are you trying to tell me?” she asked. “Be honest.” Daitana gulped. “I don’t love all ponies…” Kichona’s eyes narrowed, indulgently. “Silly. Yes, you do. It’s obvious. Daitana. What are you trying to tell ME?” He sank into those loving emerald eyes, and his heart spoke. “I love you, Kichona. Stay with me. Marry me.” A pause, then… “Don’t stop loving other ponies. Don’t stop loving ponykind, Daitana.” He gasped. “Who among them? Who among them would respond so graciously?” “I mean it!” protested Kichona, tearing up. “I don’t want you to change! Some things are important!” He began to trot with glee. “Who among them would see my deepest heart? Who else could be given the very soul of a Kirin, all to herself, and respond, no, this must be shared?” “Daitana, promise! I couldn’t bear it if we just pleasured each other and gave no help! Promise you’ll not turn away from the other ponies!” “You said ‘we’!” crowed Daitana. Kichona pouted, and stamped a hoof, quieting him. She gave him a hard stare through brimming, tearful eyes. “Yes, I will marry you and be your special pony, even though you belong to all Neighpon,” she said. “Yay!” “And then we’re going to be a Kirin TOGETHER!” insisted Kichona. He blinked. “Of course!” “Not of course,” retorted Kichona, wiping tears of joy with the back of her hoof, and sniffling. “I’ve loved the way you treat me. I could tell this was happening. Daitana, I have to step up! You’re young, you’re learning. You see the faults in silly ponies and it puts you off. I’ve got to teach you to love!” Daitana moved closer, smiling, pressing his body against hers, feeling her heart pound with emotion. “And who among them,” he asked gently, “could do that as faithfully as you?” “Oh!” sobbed Kichona, and then they were wrapped in a mad, clinging embrace: his Kirin body tingling against hers, her mare body warm and solid next to him. Eventually, their hearts slowed, and nuzzles gave way to quiet words. “What will we even do, Daitana?” she asked. “Please don’t ask me to be intimate with that Hina unicorn?” said Daitana imploringly. “You say you could stand her smugness. Yet how could I? I just can’t do it.” “I wouldn’t like it,” admitted Kichona. “She thinks she’s better than earth ponies. She thinks she’s better than me. That makes me sad, though I don’t want to punish her for it.” “They don’t like me,” said Daitana. “They think I’m not much of a Kirin.” “They’re wrong,” said Kichona with a kiss. She frowned. “We must work out how to get you magic, though.” “Must we?” “Maybe not from here,” said Kichona. “Maybe not right now? Another Kirin will come here, and Hina will have a wonderful time.” “She will,” grumbled Daitana. “I’d rather not see it. I still find all that distasteful and strange, and when you add her greed and scorn, there is nothing of that world that I want.” “Maybe you will get used to it?” “There must be some other way,” brooded Daitana. “My searches of the forests yielded nothing that would serve me. Perhaps we can search elsewhere?” “Will we go?” asked Kichona. “I’ll go anywhere with you.” He raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a preference, my love?” She thought. She glanced east. “Those musicians! We didn’t see their performance, and it sounded lovely. Let’s go and ask them where they’ll play next!” And with that, the two cantered off to the outskirts of town… …where they found nothing. The stage, the cart, the musicians: all were gone as if they’d never existed. Kichona pouted, tearful again. “Oh, crud! They’ve already gone, and the music was so pretty and fun, and now how will we find them?” Daitana was trotting to and fro, inspecting the ground. “So much grass trampled! And I cannot heal it. That colt’s leg took everything I had.” “But your mind,” corrected Kichona. “And heart,” she added. “And are you looking for musician tracks?” Daitana snorted in amusement. “Musician scats? Do you think they poop musical notes?” A different voice cut in. “The big ‘un would leave different poops, hehe!” It was a little old town-stallion, grinning toothlessly at them. He added, “Never saw a pony so huge! That was somethin’! All the mares, they couldn’t look away!” “Big one?” asked Daitana. “There’s a way to track them?” “Hello, Zaidan,” said Kichona. “You are well?” The old pony nodded. “I am, thank you, Kichona.” He looked at them again, shrewdly. “You’re moving on, hmm?” “Why do you say that?” shot Daitana, while Kichona said, “Yes.” They glanced embarrassedly at each other. “I didn’t think you’d be staying,” said the little old stallion to the Kirin. “You didn’t match this town. But… it seems something in this town still matched you!” Kichona just smiled. Daitana said, “Did you say there was a big musician? And we could track him? By his…” The oldster cackled. “Had you going, there! No, that’s not so different, but all the same, I heard your sweet lady ask how you’d find them again.” Daitana frowned, uncomfortable at how this aged earth pony seemed to see right through him. He gathered his Kirin formality. “Sir! Elder horse. Please come to our aid? We did not hear the music. Please tell us where all the musicians have gone.” The old pony stallion nodded in satisfaction. “Nice! That’s polite. Well, they weren’t all musicians. The big ‘un, he was for liftin’ boxes and things. I think they call it road crew? He was in a fearful hurry. The other two, they were starting to mingle with the crowd, and the big fellow is just packing everything up like about ten of the pink demons all stuck together. Didn’t seem possible.” “But where did they go?” pleaded Daitana. “I can’t tell you that, not exactly,” said the old pony. “But I can tell you this: the two musicians, the grey one and the little unicorn with the glasses, they didn’t understand what he was doing. And he pulled them out of the crowd and herded them onto the cart like they were just some more boxes, and off they went. And the grey one asked, “But why must we leave, can’t we stay the night?” and the unicorn answered, “Beats me. But we were going to head north anyway…” Daitana and Kichona stared at him, waiting. The old pony shrugged. “That’s what they said. So… I don’t know how you’ll find them. But I’ve narrowed down where you might look.” Daitana and Kichona looked at each other. She smiled. He shrugged. As one, they began to trot down the path… heading north.
High Seas“So,” said Applejack, “this is the low dive of a tavern, eh?” Uni blinked in puzzlement. “I do not understand?” “Ah mean, the one with sailors,” explained Applejack. “Real sailors. Rowdy dirty sailor ponies, know what I mean?” It didn’t appear that the Neighponnese earth pony, wife to Mugennokaijitsu the rare foods trader, knew what she meant. “This is the tavern,” she explained. “I will wait outside. Go ahead and drink. It is near the harbor, is that not low? It is not on a hill, yes?” “Uhh, true enough…” said Applejack. “It does not dive,” said Uni. “It might fall over, does that help? I will stay outside so it does not fall over.” “Uhh, thanks?” said Applejack. Uni bowed her head. “For my honorable guest, it is not too much to ask.” Applejack left the little Neighponnese cutie standing quietly outside the tavern, and approached the doors. It did seem just a little like a low dive, at least those she was acquainted with: she wasn’t sure what a low dive looked like in Neighpon, but she’d seen many nasty sailor bars plus the taverns of Appleloosa, and she took heart and trotted forward, kicking the doors open with a bang. They remained attached: she’d used forehooves. “Hi!” said Applejack, boldly. Heads turned, eyes focussed on her and took her measure. That was good, a good sign, and she welcomed it. Some of the eyes didn’t focus. Also, the number of eyes wasn’t exactly the same as the number of heads times two. Applejack smiled. That was an even better sign. “Mornin’, gentlemen,” said Applejack quietly. Her eyes narrowed just a touch, as she watched for a reaction. Somewhere in the gloom, a sailor pony laughed a not-very-nice laugh. Nopony moved. In front, a fierce-looking pegasus with a twisted wingtip pursed his lips and spat on the floor, directly in front of her. Applejack’s smile narrowed, too. The signs just kept getting better and better… She walked forward, past a table, studying the bar and seeing that there’d been a mirror along the back, but it had been smashed. Only fragments, stuck in the frame, remained. That’d save time. Before anypony could react, Applejack had banged the table with a forehoof. Three beer mugs arced into the air, and she whirled and kicked with just Bucky for swank and so she could say, “The other leg’s even quicker, gents”. One, two, three beer mugs creased the ears of the bar-ponies and exploded against the wall behind them. “Any questions?” asked Applejack, cheerfully. “Now, I…” She trailed off, eyes narrowing. At least one question would be asked with hooves and not words. Though most ponies didn’t betray a reaction (another good omen), one in the back was getting up. And up, and up… He was a huge earth pony on the scale of Big Macintosh, his eyes were crossed with drink and red with rage, and as some other ponies tactfully ducked aside, he bellowed like a bull and he charged at Applejack, headlong. Her smile didn’t waver… and she whirled again, and planted a rear hoof right in the center of his forehead. He dropped, out cold. “Any other questions?” she asked. The ponies looked at each other. “Yeah, what’ll you have?” And with that, they were crowding around her, laughing, slapping her back in congratulation. “Over here!” one cried. “Quick, before he wakes up!” “You fixin’ to hide me?” asked Applejack. “Cos that ain’t happenin’. Ah got a whole other leg, y’know.” “No, no!” protested the pegasus with the twisted wing. “That’s Bucket. You know, big like bucket, useful like bucket, sturdy like bucket, smart like bucket? He’s already forgotten who you are, so if you're sitting with us when he wakes up, he’ll assume you’re our friend.” “Huh,” said Applejack, joining them. “Am I?” The pegasus grinned. “Hell yeah! That was great. Makes me sorry I busted the mirror yesterday.” “Makes me sorry I didn’t use my magic to fix it again!” said one of the one-eyed unicorns. “So it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” said the pegasus. “They call me Twirly. This lazy fucker is One-Eye, and this is The-Other-Eye. You already met Bucket. This fellow’s Tripod, you can see his leg’s still attached but it’s an interestin’ shape now. Over there is Bean Soup…” Applejack looked, and a toothless pegasus mare grinned gummily at her. “And there’s Flinchy and Crooked-Horn and Wall-Eye…” “Pleased ta meet y’all,” said Applejack. “Twirly, huh? How come you’re called Twirly?” One-Eye spoke up. “He can still fly! And fight! Twirly never gives up. He just has to fly in a different sort of way now. Looks kind of like crashing in about five directions at once. When he gets his hooves going as well, strong pirates run screaming just to see him coming.” “Ah!” said Applejack approvingly. “You’re workin’ sailors!” “Some kinds of working,” winked One-Eye. Applejack wondered for a moment how she knew it was a wink, with him, but everything about the seedy unicorn was insinuating and suggestive, and of course he could only wink, and leer. “Business before pleasure?” suggested Applejack. “Seems you ain’t amiss to a lil’ pleasure. Hmm? You that sort?” Tripod chimed in. “Don’t let it fool you, ma’am. We might be a scurvy crew, but don’t underestimate us. One-Eye and The-Other-Eye climb masts together. They link their magic, and both get a-lookin’, and there ain’t nopony who can judge distances better. Them’s navigators!” “Do a lot of fightin’, do you?” asked Applejack. “Quarrelsome? Did Twirly there tangle with ol’ Bucket on one dark night?” “Not him,” said Twirly. Bucket twitched, and rumbled a curse, grabbing his head with his hooves. He got up, and returned to his seat, and just as promised didn’t even blink to see Applejack sitting there among them. “We’re the best pi… er, sailors, you’re ever gonna meet,” boasted Twirly. “There’s nopony on Neighpon’s seas that will stand against us.” “Even when they bust you up and poke your eyes out and break your leg into interestin’ shapes?” asked Applejack. “Not them,” said The-Other-Eye. “There’s no pirate crew out there who can lay a hoof on us, we’re so tough and mean.” Applejack beamed at them. “Good! I’ll take ya. You see, I need a crew to help me take my boat back to Manehattan. I reckon what you do there after I leave ya, is your affair.” “Oh, yeah?” said Twirly. “And who are you? You’re quick with your hooves, but what makes you captain?” Applejack’s grin got three shades wickeder. “Ah’m Applejack,” she said, “but you might just have heard of me… as the D…” She stopped. Every single pony in the bar had frozen in terror, not even breathing. Total panic. “Ah ain’t even TOLD you yet,” said Applejack. There was a faint noise behind her. Applejack turned, and Uni was standing there. The cute little earth pony mare was impassive, showing no expression. She addressed Applejack, not even looking at the others. “Why did you say crew?” she asked, quietly. “Well, I got to pick out a proper crew to get back home with the ship, sugarcube…” Uni abruptly scuffed a hoof on the floor, making a loud scraping noise. Every single other pony in the tavern except for Applejack went from frozen, to pressed up against the far wall in a big pile of scared pony, with seemingly no time in between. Applejack’s jaw dropped. “I am your crew,” said Uni. Against the wall, all the pirate sailors frantically nodded in agreement. Uni nodded, once, and turned to leave. Applejack watched her go, dumbfounded. “Well, don’t that beat all…” “Why didn’t you tell us?” whispered One-Eye, one-wild-eyed. “Yeah, what do you need US for?” gasped Twirly, shivering. “Give a horse some warning next time, will you?” complained Tripod. “Back to getting drunk!” grumbled The-Other-Eye, morosely. Applejack stared at them, in disbelief. Pirates that were so battle-tested, but gave up so easily, were outside her experience. “Well, jes’ a minute here,” she said. “Do you mean that lil’ thing is a good sailor?” Twirly looked at her as if she’d gone mad. “A good sailor?” Tripod, too, seemed stunned. “A GOOD sailor?” There was a snigger. Then, a chuckle. The pirates began laughing, as Applejack stood there, speechless. The laughter built, with an edge of hysteria, until it rocked the tavern… Silence. Applejack turned. There it was: Uni’s little impassive, expressionless face in the doorway. As Applejack watched, Uni gave a little smile, and a nod. And then she was gone, her sensibilities satisfied. “Dang,” said Applejack and took off her hat. “Well… have fun drinkin’, gents. I guess I got me a crew already.” She trotted out the door, calling, “Hey, Uni! What’re we doin’ for provisions? I done left you all my apple turnip cakes!” Time passed. “One-Eye?” said Twirly. “Yeah?” “Can you see out the window from there?” “Yeah?” “Just tell us when the ship is gone…” “Away we go!” called Applejack as she cast off. She flicked her tail ebulliently, still feeling tingly. That Kirin fellow had fixed her up good! She felt fertile as anything, incredibly feminine, and couldn’t wait to bed Dash and get herself pregnant. All that time mothering Northern Spy, all that effort and magical trickery just to do things like nursing, and still she hadn’t been able to do the real thing! For all that she felt so feminine, there was still a cocky self-confidence in Applejack’s bearing. In her estimation, foaling weren’t nothing she couldn’t manage. She had Granny, and Dashie’d learned a lot about it when it was her time, and Applejack saw no incongruity in being both feminine, and tough as barn nails. And it seemed she wasn’t the only one on the boat who could say that. The shore slowly receded, leaving Applejack and Uni alone in a bright, empty ocean. Applejack walked over, and sat with Uni. Uni had brought a little mat, and sat on it with her legs crossed in a funny way and her forehooves turned up, resting on her legs. It seemed a comfortable position to rest in. Her body calmly adjusted for the gentle tilting of the yacht in the waves, and her eyes were nearly shut. “All right,” said Applejack, “what’s th’ deal?” Serenely, Uni’s eyes opened and focussed on her traveling companion. “I will travel to your Ponyville, and negotiate with your Diamond Tiara, if possible for an exclusive license to the wonderful Apple Turnip Cakes…” “Oh, no,” said Applejack. “No, no. Din’t mean that. What’s the deal with them sailor-ponies, Miss Uni?” Uni’s face had fallen at Applejack’s first reaction, but she brightened as she understood. “All are good ponies,” she said. “Our town of Kabochaebi is peaceful and calm, and all the sailor-ponies are good and kind.” “So good an’ kind they smash mirrors in their bar?” “They did not smash the mirror,” said Uni. She considered this, and added, “They did not intend to smash any mirrors. Forgive them their small errors.” “And what small errors might that be?” pressed Applejack. Uni paused, thinking. “Unicorns cannot fly.” She smiled, apparently expecting her remark to be enlightening. Applejack snorted, grinning. “A lot you know. Back home, our unicorns get up to all kinds of stuff, and I wouldn’t put it past them. Are you sure that’s what you want to say, Miss Uni?” Uni considered this, still with that preternatural calm. “Unicorns cannot fly well,” she amended. “Meanin’ that you can get ‘em airborne,” suggested Applejack, “but they ain’t much for steering? Sounds a bit like my Rainbow, to be honest.” Uni nodded. “Forgive them their errors. They are good and kind ponies at heart.” “Takes a little convincing?” suggested Applejack, her ears perking up. “To stop them from flyin’?” Uni frowned, and weighed her words carefully. “They don’t fly by themselves. They’re all good ponies…” Applejack leaned in, with a stare like her mother Applesauce. “Jes’ us two here, and the big ol’ ocean. It don’t tell no tales and neither do I, less’n I want to. And I don’t want to, unless I’m treated like I’m a dern fool… so, little miss Uni, answer me this. What makes the unicorns fly?” The ocean was patient. It’d heard a lot of silence. Applejack was less patient, but had a suspicion that this little mare couldn’t be bullied in any sense. However, Applejack also had a secret. She was the Dread Pirate Booties (or one of them: perhaps one of the best and fiercest there’d ever been) and she sensed a counterpart across from her. A proud, capable counterpart who’d not faced a rival worthy of her dainty hooves. But Applejack didn’t propose to be a rival. ‘Friend’ seemed like a worthwhile goal. And friendship didn’t grow out of nothing: it sprang from small honesties and little moments of trust. And so, she stared but not unkindly, and she waited, and her little halfsmile was much like the one Uni had offered the pirates of Kabochaebi. As if to say: I know you, and you know that I know… Uni coughed, a little. She looked down, abashed. She looked up, and a tiger was in her gaze, just for a moment, yet Applejack didn’t flinch. Uni looked down again, even more chagrined. It seemed she had not meant a gaze with such ferocity. It gave her away. What makes the unicorns fly? Uni answered it, pouting and chastened and cranky at her own admission. “I do,” she said. “Thought so,” said Applejack with a big smile. “You’re a stubborn one! Don’t you know sailors like that need the occasional bucking to set ‘em right? Ah don’t see why you’re so bashful about it. It’s written all over you, soon’s I saw you walkin’ into that room. It’s written all over them, too. Prob’ly in hoof-prints. Is that how you do it? I confess I find it hard to imagine you whuppin’ some of them ponies, they’re twice your size.” “Three,” corrected Uni. “Beg pardon?” “Three times my size,” said Uni calmly. “It does not matter. I am the Kabochaebi, and they will not stand against me.” “I thought your town was Kabochaebi!” said Applejack. The little halfsmile was back. “It is my town,” said Uni. “Why am I telling you this? I am not threatening you. I promise, I am not.” “I bet I know!” “What do you bet?” replied Uni quickly. “More apple turnip cakes?” “No, I mean it’s jes’ a manner of speaking. I do think I know why you fessed up,” said Applejack. “Ah was about to tell… heh… dare I say it, your crew?” Uni frowned, thinking. “Fess… confess? I confess nothing. There is nothing to be concerned about. You are quite safe. Safer than you ever imagined you’d be.” “Heh! I daresay,” chuckled Applejack. Uni’s frown warred with her amusement, and began to erode in the face of Applejack’s obvious cheerfulness. Applejack continued, “Prob’ly safer than even you know. What the heck—I’ll go first!” “Don’t go!” said Uni quickly. “This is no time for sea madness. Beautiful the rippling waves may be, but you cannot gallop across them! I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to stop my c… hmph.” “Gotcha!” teased Applejack. “Mine too. In case you were wonderin’.” Uni glowered in a grudgingly respectful way. “What do you mean by, ‘mine too’? I ask, of course, just out of curiosity, without implying anything.” “Suuuure ya don’t,” snickered Applejack. “It’s just us here, Uni, if that’s really your name. And call me a crazy filly, but somehow I get the idea that you would not be prop’ly terrified to learn you’re sharing a boat with… the Dread Pirate Booties!” Uni blinked. “Who?” she asked politely. It was Applejack’s turn to glower. “Hmph! A lot you know. Shoulda plundered out this way more often.” She shrugged. “What’s done is done. You really never heard of me? Ah kicked the flank of Blackmane and made him flee me an’ my crew in a lil’ rowboat.” Uni’s eyes widened. “Butattosupuritta!” she sputtered. “Blackmane?” “The very same,” boasted Applejack proudly. “I was his first mate for a brief an’ embarrassin’ period. I took his crew an’ kicked his butt and woulda kilt him stone dead if I could. No lie.” “WHEN?” demanded Uni, astonished. “Plenty of years ago,” said Applejack. “Don’t worry, I ain’t seen hide nor hair of him since. I was jes’ a filly. I don’t tell everypony that story, y’know, Uni.” Uni’s eyes were more shocked than Applejack had ever seen. She bowed her head, and then her eyes came up under lowered brows, burning, pinning Applejack to the spot. “I am the Kabochaebi,” she hissed, “the Mantis Shrimp. I have seen the pirate Blackmane. I have known the pirate Blackmane. And… and… me too.” “Beg pardon?” blinked Applejack. Uni shook herself, and glanced up, bashful at her outburst. “Yes, Dread Pirate Booties. I did that. He must have gone and found another crew after he left you.” Applejack began grinning. “No shit. No SHIT. Really? Seriously? That lot ya got back there in the town, they’re like Blackmane Crew Mark Two?” “No!” snapped Uni. “They are good ponies! They’re mine! They are the crew of Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp. Not his! Never again!” Applejack sat back. “Whoa there. I respect your position, there, missy. Happens I felt pretty much the same way. Before you get all snappy with me, I’d like two things if you can manage ‘em.” Uni quieted, with a visible effort. “I will not be snappy with you, Booties. What do you wish?” “First… a hug,” suggested Applejack. “And then, I’ve just got to hear more of this story!” Uni gulped. Her face twisted with emotion, and then she was giving her fellow pirate captain a big hug, and then right away she was sitting again in her meditation position, taking deep breaths, calming herself. “An’ also,” added Applejack, “how you kin fling full-growed unicorns around. Me, I’m more expert at jes’ droppin’ them where they stand, so I can’t imagine how you get ‘em airborne like that.” Uni twitched. “Oh, that is only martial arts. I can show you, but not here, it might hurt the boat.” “All righty.” Uni shot her a fierce look. “Why would you need to know that? Are you trying to train more pirate crews, for wicked deeds?” “Do you SEE me doin’ wicked deeds?” Applejack shot back, unhesitatingly. It made Uni pause. “No. And the Kirin did not flinch at you. They would have sensed it, I am sure.” “They din’t flinch at you either,” said Applejack. “What happened? I feel like maybe I kin guess some of it. When I stole my crew from Blackmane, we sailed around raisin’ hell for a while but then I din’t want to be mean no more. I decided they oughta straighten out and be nice, too.” Uni nodded slowly. “For no reason?” “Naw, ‘cos I was gonna kick six kinds of hell outta them if they didn’t…” “No,” said Uni. “I mean, you turned good for no reason?” Applejack sat back and blinked. “Ah was always good. Do you mean, you needed a reason? You weren’t good?” Uni’s gaze was complicated. It combined pride, scorn, sadness, even some guilt. “I am the Kabochaebi. I terrified the seas around Neighpon, and rejoiced, and I was alone, commanding my crew. Nothing stood against me. And then… there was the small town, and… him.” “A bad ‘un?” guessed Applejack. Uni shook her head wonderingly. Tears glistened in those commanding eyes. “Mugennokaijitsu.” “Oh, him!” said Applejack. “Your sweetie-pony!” Uni nodded, a weepy, quivery smile threatening to take over her face. “He is fearless! He cares only about flavors. And so intelligent. I captured him, Booties. He served me, and he became my lover, and it was a terrible discipline problem. The crew could not understand.” “About you fuckin’ the help?” said Applejack wisely. “Best not play favorites, I worked that one out in a hurry. You gotta either jump ‘em all, or just kick them until they’re sensible. I tried both. Fuckin’ em all was a dern sight friendlier, though it gets tiring…” Uni was shaking her head. “I did not do that. My martial arts were enough. No, he behaved like he could talk openly to me. He expressed opinions. I could not make him crawl before me like the others. He would say he loved me, and knew I didn’t want to be that way. And it was true… I wanted to be his partner, not his captain. He would defer to me just as readily, but he knows nothing of seafaring! And then he began asking if it was right, for us to pillage the high seas. He would ask if we were being kind…” “Aw,” said Applejack. “I think I see where this is goin’. He was a spoilsport and consarned good influence, huh?” “Con… sarned?” “He offered you love,” said Applejack, “but he stayed true to himself. Ain’t that right?” Uni nodded. “It is right! I love him. We had wealth, but lived the lives of pirates. He didn’t wish that. We had destroyed his town and stolen him from it. He wanted to return home.” “You’d ruined his home.” Uni gave that look full of pride and grief, again. “We RESTORED his home. We sailed back, in the end, and rebuilt the town we had smashed. We could not restore the ponies who’d fled or died, but we moved into the town ourselves, and we waited. Some of the crew fled across the sea in terror. The most loyal of my crew remained, with me and my love, and we waited. We waited for our doom, because there was nothing else for us to do.” “Beg pardon?” asked Applejack. “Did you think Blackmane would come get ya?” “Kirin,” explained Uni. “We were not marauding off the coast. We weren’t running away. The Kirin would come, at some point. We would not fight them, Mugennokaijitsu didn’t wish it. He had befriended the crew, once we decided to stop pirating. He trusted us, especially those who remained after some had fled. Mugen swore the Kirin would smile upon our town.” “I think I’m beginnin’ to see why y’all were so scared,” said Applejack. “So what did you do?” “None of us will ever forget that day,” said Uni, softly. “We knew Mugen believed in us. But when we heard him calling out, saying the Kirin were here, we expected death. I gathered my crew. We walked out to the docks, because One-Eye and The-Other-Eye swore they would only go to their deaths if they could be by the sea they loved when it happened. I understood: we all felt that way to some extent. We walked out, and Mugen was there, and the Kirin were with him, and we lined up and we bowed to the Kirin and awaited our judgement.” She gulped. “I remember feeling so sorry for Mugennokaijitsu, knowing in my heart that I was about to be executed in front of him. Poor, beautiful Mugennokaijitsu. He didn’t understand how we felt…” “Wow,” breathed Applejack. “And?” “I looked up and all the Kirin looked like Mugennokaijitsu,” said Uni. “There were five of them, all glittering with scales and magic as if they were going to war, but they were looking upon us and weeping with joy. They were terribly upset! And Mugennokaijitsu, my Mugennokaijitsu, he spoke and he said, I told you so! And then the Kirin were rushing forward, but rather than destroy us for the terrifying and wicked pirates we were, they began hugging us and crying…” “Awwww!” “Also, shaking us, and yelling, and swearing to help us, and threatening us with a terrible fate if we returned to evilness,” said Uni. She shrugged. “You know the drill! And so, the town of Kabochaebi was born. It is the first and only town in Neighpon composed of only the most terrible pirates, turned good. We play host to many Kirin: we think it is a sort of tourism thing. Mugennokaijitsu thinks they bring young Kirin to Kabochaebi to teach them not to judge. I keep telling him, if they are bringing young Kirin to our home, it’s to teach them HOW to judge. And as long as I am there, Kabochaebi will remain good.” “Woohoo!” cried Applejack. “Good for you! That’s one heck of a story. I’m not sure Ponyville’s got anything to match it.” She thought. “Or maybe we do. Seems like ponies are the same all over, in some ways. Back at home we’ve done everything from tamin’ a draconequus, to harboring Equestria’s first good vampire-pony, to bringin’ a notorious outlaw pony home from the wide-open prairie. Hell, he even built a house, though it does face away from Ponyville. I guess some hearts always roam.” “I feel true hearts will return home,” said Uni. “Mugennokaijitsu is my home. I merely build a place for him to live and be happy.” Applejack frowned, a little. “The WHOLE town’s full of th’ most terrible pirates? Are you sure you should be traveling to Ponyville, then? It seems like maybe you oughta stay home keepin’ an eye on them.” “Why?” “In case some feller gets obstreperous,” explained Applejack. “What if one of them ponies got drunk an’ hurt Mugen or something?” “They will defend Mugen,” said Uni, simply. “They must.” “Ya sure?” For a moment, Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp, looked out of Uni’s eyes. “Yes. If he is harmed, I will hunt down and murder every single one of them without exception, before killing myself.” Applejack’s jaw dropped. “Killed, I mean,” said Kabochaebi. “If he is only harmed, he would talk me out of it.” She blinked, and shook herself. “This is not good, I should not talk that way. I don’t have to live that way anymore. I have learned to trust.” Applejack’s eyes were wide. “Uhh… good! That’s good, trustin’ is good. Mostly it’s served me well.” She winced, thinking of old memories. “Pretty much the times I ain’t had trust for my loved ones, were the worstest times in my whole entire life… let’s both trust, okay?” “Of course,” said Uni, the pirate queen gradually leaving her eyes. “A hug might do me some good right now,” admitted Applejack. Uni obliged. “You can be the Kirin, while we’re at sea!” she said. “I kin be the what now?” “Every day, at least one Kirin comes to Kabochaebi,” explained Uni. “And every Kirin who comes to Kabochaebi, expresses their love by hugging me. Sometimes they hug very fiercely, and their manes seem to explode with energy! They also hug the other townsponies, but they always hug me! So I am used to hugs now.” Applejack stared, wide-eyed. “Dang. Um. I, uh, I guess they can’t get enough of ya, huh? They probably never knew anypony who turned half as good as you.” Uni smiled happily, and the Mantis Shrimp glittered cheerfully behind her eyes, kept in perfect balance by a diet of love and serenity. “Nopony is as good as Mugennokaijitsu,” she said. “I am only as good as myself.” The Ponyville street was quiet. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle trotted along. “I don’t know if that kind of dancing is really for me,” said Sweetie Belle. “It would be even harder than that melty dancing DJ Pon-3 showed us. Anyway, if we were going to get our cutie marks from dancing, wouldn’t we have got them when we won the dance contest?” “That’s the thing!” said Scootaloo. “I feel like we were really close to it. I was copying what those other pegasi did, just like you were copying the unicorns. Of course we won, we were fucking awesome. But was that really, like, cutie-mark material? It was great, but I don’t know… it maybe wasn’t totally US.” Sweetie sighed, tossing her mane. “Wherever you go, I go, darling. If your insistence on dancing makes me have muscle cramps, I expect you to massage them out of me. Just so you know.” Scootaloo kissed her, without breaking stride. “I knew I could count on you! Not much farther. And it’s the dance contest that gave me the idea. Think about it. He’s my dad… well, my earth pony Dad, and totally the awesome one. He has a whole kind of dancing of his own, and it’s so stalliony that he even pops boners doing it, and you know I’m all about getting in touch with my, like, inner maleness. And I bet he’d show us about that dancing, and his house would be a good pl… a g…” Braeburn’s house came into view… sort of. It had been kicked to splinters, until not a single wall was standing. Everything lay flat, and there was no sign of the renegade cowpony, Scootaloo’s Dad. Kicked from the inside, until nothing remained in Ponyville to confine him. Braeburn was gone. Sweetie Belle gasped. “Oh, no! Did he get mad at something? What got into him? Do you know, Sc… SCOOTALOO!” But Scootaloo had taken one look, and grasped the essential truth of the situation. She was already gone, running and half-flying as fast as she possibly could, bound for the Ponyville house she shared with Flight Lightning. “MOOOOOMMMM!”
Rough Rider“Slow down, honey,” pleaded Flight Lightning. “Start over. What happened?” Scootaloo took a big breath. “It’s Dad! It’s Braeburn! He’s gone!” Flight Lightning wasn’t often motherly… but she’d learned. She hugged Scootaloo, and shook her, the latter being more like her usual reactions. “No he’s not! What, he didn’t come back yet? You know he’s always chasing mares and the occasional stallion, but I promise, he’ll come home…” “No, he won’t because his house is smashed flat!” Flight Lightning gasped. “WHAT? Did you help him? What happened to it? Scootaloo, good job going and getting help but are you sure…” “Momm!” “Are you sure you didn’t leave him there, did you check? What do you mean, smashed flat?” Scootaloo glowered. “All the walls kicked down, that’s what. MOM! Listen!” “But… well, Braeburn, he gets up to some mischief, but Ponyville’s a nice town, Scootaloo! Who would attack Braeb…” “MOM!” yelled Scootaloo. She took a breath. “From the INSIDE…” Flight Lightning froze. She’d almost forgotten that about Braeburn. He’d seemed so well adjusted to life in Ponyville, near one of his mares and available to his half-pegasus daughter. It was almost possible to forget he was a notorious outlaw who vanished on the wind at the first sign of confinement. You almost couldn’t believe he’d ever been the untameable heartbreaker. Almost. “Shit,” said Flight Lightning. She began to pace, turning to and fro. “Shit! We’d better get going. Were there any clues?” “Not there!” said Scootaloo. “Spill it, kid. Fast. What do you know?” “His house is just flat,” said Scootaloo. “Kicked down from the inside, he must have been really upset. That’s not the clue. We just saw DJ Pon-3 and Octavia leave town. They’re going on tour, they were sailing out of Manehattan to Neighpon. And you know who was their roadie? Big Macintosh.” “No kidding?” said Flight Lightning. “Yeah, and you know he’s real tight with Brae… yeah. Yeah! I think you’re on to something, Scoots!” “And not only that,” said Scootaloo, “Braeburn acted weird that day, AND Rarity acted funny too!” “Funny how?” demanded Flight Lightning. “She was bidding him farewell in this totally over-the-top way! And then she ran off and hid in her boutique and wouldn’t come out! And do you remember when that Kirin…” “…from Neighpon…” both said… “…came to town? And you know who was shackin’ up with her? Not our Braeburn,” said Scootaloo, “but Big Macintosh! And what…” “Ah, shit!” said Flight Lightning, trotting in place. “I get you! What if he’s not coming back? Fuck! Sorry. Actually never mind, this calls for it. Fuck! I’m way ahead of you, Scoots. Brae’s chasing Big Macintosh. I’m sure of it. We gotta go after him! I don’t know what good it will do but his world is not just made up of one overly-thick farm horse. He’ll come to his senses… I hope. But we gotta catch him, reason with him. If he thinks he’s losing Big Macintosh to a Neighponnese magic-filly the least he needs is a hug, and it might help for ponies he loves to talk to him. We gotta catch him!” “I can’t fly across the ocean,” said Scootaloo. “I fucking can,” said Flight Lightning. “I’m about to. I’ll carry you, we’ve done that before.” “But what about Sweetie Belle?” said Scootaloo. “She goes where I go.” “I beg your pardon?” said Flight Lightning, appalled. “Scoots, you’re getting so big it’ll be a hell of a thing even to carry just you across a whole damn ocean. I’m only saying it because we’ve got to go and we’ve got to go fast and I think I can just about manage it, and I can spot a boat on the ocean and he can’t hide that. We might just have a chance if we catch him before he makes landfall. But there’s no way I can carry both you and Sweetie B…” Galloping pony hooves drew up, outside. The door was still open. “In there!” came Sweetie’s voice. Through the door came Rainbow Dash, with Sweetie riding on her back. “What’s going on? I’ve never seen Sweetie Belle run so fast. I helped her get where she was going. Hey, look at you. Are you okay?” Flight Lightning gulped, looking grim. “We’ve been better, Dash. There’s a problem.” “What’s wrong?” “We think Braeburn’s run away to Neighpon. He kicked down his house and he’s gone. We’ve seen it before. When he’s at his full sneakiness, nopony can catch him.” Slowly, very slowly, Rainbow Dash began to smirk. “Wanna bet?” she said. Nighttime at the Neighponnese port of Kabochaebi was quiet. Ponies who’d been carousing all night had staggered off to their cozy homes, to sleep the sleep of the formerly-wicked and wake up bright-eyed and covered in somepony else’s recycled rice-cider. Waves lapped quietly against the dock, the shore, the beach. Among them, other sounds, sounds just like waves, sounds no louder than those gentle waves… sounds that nopony would imagine signified a visitor to Neighpon’s shores. Braeburn’s eyes peered across the water, from around the edge of the boat. It might seem odd, for pony eyes to appear at water level when a perfectly serviceable boat was available. But a pony riding a boat aground might make some sort of scrunching noise that would carry. And a pony jumping out of a boat might make a splash, little or big, and be silhouetted against the moon reflecting off those gentle ocean waves. A pony that had lowered himself into the chilly water very slowly, and swum to shore towing the boat silently along with him, would make no splash and no silhouette. Braeburn was not about to be dissuaded from entering Neighpon, nor interfered with on his mission. With smooth, stealthy motions, he reached the shore and silently lifted the boat up to rest it on the beach. His ears twisted this way and that, listening for listeners. His eyes were reddened, not entirely from the salty seawater. He froze. There was something, hundreds of yards away. He peered around the boat, in the embracing darkness, just barely altering its silhouette enough to use his dark-adjusted eyes, ears laid back against his head to conceal them. Luminous. Wispy. Some kind of light. Kirin! Braeburn barely breathed. His expression turned grim. That thing might sense him. He reckoned however he described his business, it wouldn’t make a lot of sense to any sort of police or guardpony, and Kirin were a fancy sort of guardpony, weren’t they? He meant Neighpon no harm, but he was damned if it was going to stand in his way, and instinctively he felt this attitude couldn’t possibly work with the Kirin. They were strange, powerful magic creatures, and he was just an earth pony stallion from Appleloosa. Braeburn’s brows lowered. They had some tricks in Appleloosa. Well… he had, anyhoof. He controlled his breathing with fierce determination, though his heart pounded with fear… and he took action, in the dark and silent night. Very slowly, Braeburn walked out of the lapping waves, onto the beach to the side of his boat. He dug his hooves in, and twisted and worked them, right by the boat… and then, in slow motion, ears perked in terror, he walked silently up the beach. It was nearly too dark to see, but the Kirin probably had no such problem, consarned magic-critters that they were. His lip curled in frustration… but he wasn’t out of tricks yet. He snuffled at the ground as he went, and then got a small rock between his lips, along with some sand for his troubles. Braeburn continued to walk until he felt the beginnings of grass under his hooves. Then, his skin crawling with tension, he reversed himself, and he stepped carefully backwards in his tracks, all the way to the boat. He saw that the waves had already begun to erode where he’d dug in his hooves, and smiled a little around the small rock held in his mouth. And he kept on backing up, into the sea, until he was swimming quietly out away from the shore, still watching that alarming hint of luminescence that meant a magical guardian-type creature fixing to catch him and ask him inconvenient questions. Back further and further Braeburn went, until he judged he was about as far away as he dared. Kicking his hooves, he rose in the water as well as he could, balancing the small rock on his right forehoof. One convulsive kick, and he went still and quiet and sank into the waves, his eyes barely above the surface of the water, and Braeburn waited. Three… two… A sharp clunk told him that his rock had found its target, the boat. He sank lower, as well as he could. Going fully underwater was tempting, but he had to see. He compromised, staying so low that he could barely glimpse the shore. His heart jolted, and he re-evaluated in a big hurry… A beautiful creature, glowing at its mane and strange curled-back horn and fetlocks and tailtip, had walked over and was studying the boat. Braeburn struggled to stay low. He swore the damn critter was looking out to sea, though it was only brief distorted glimpses he permitted himself. His eyes were slits. He reminded himself, if it made any sort of bright light, eyes closed and stay closed until the light stops. No reflecting lights in outlaw pony eyes, not from ol’ Braeburn… At first he suspected, then he was sure. It had turned. Braeburn rose a little farther out of the water, peering shoreward. The Kirin had definitely turned away. What’s more, it was studying the beach. No, better… the Kirin was studying the tracks he’d made! It wandered curiously up the beach, following the hoofprints, and reached the grass. Braeburn cringed back beneath the salty waves, as a bright light shone out. It was a sort of beam, and it was aimed into the town. He stayed low, as another Kirin appeared to join the first one. They talked, softly… he couldn’t make out a thing they were saying. That was possibly good, and possibly not. If there was shouting, he could expect a certain reaction… He got it. Both Kirin headed off in the direction the hoofprints appeared to lead. They separated, taking slightly different paths, and were soon lost to sight. Braeburn floated smugly, his eyes just above the waves, his grin safely under it. After a while, he swam carefully to shore, and stepped up onto the beach. With ceremony, he walked up the beach in the same hoofprints he’d used twice before, and reached the safety of the grass, and looked beyond it to a grove of trees. “Alwayth try ta thtay behind th’ pothhh-e…” he whispered to himself, faintly. Even in the absence of the Kirin, Braeburn didn’t trust his surroundings, and took pains not to pronounce ’S’es in the quiet dark of the night. His motto was barely vocalized, but it had served him one more time. Always try to stay behind the posse. Braeburn slowly walked into the concealing grove of trees. That was a good start. There were bad points about it: it seemed too manicured, without enough underbrush to hide him, but he’d just have to deal with that too. Dern place was like a big garden, Braeburn thought. All them trees might as well be big flower arrangements. He stopped in his tracks, tears blinding him for a moment. “All right for… Princethh…” he breathed, barely audible. It was, indeed, the right sort of place for Princess, who deserved no less. Braeburn shook himself, setting his jaw, a grim look in his tearful eyes, and in a silence as deep as the night, he proceeded onward. The next morning was bright. The next town was friendly, excited to be visited by traveling musicians. The next gig was a huge success, with Octavia bringing the townsponies to tears with the intimacy of her bow, and then working them up with the sensuality of her compositions… and then, DJ Pon-3 filled the town with throbbing bass, and Big Macintosh’s eyes widened to see how wantonly the Neighponnese ponies danced and ground upon each others’ bodies. It was his first chance to check out the audience, as he’d kept very busy before the gig, making up for previous indiscretions by staying constantly active with the PA set-up. Octavia and Vinyl had been appreciative, though their personalities diverged: pre-performance, Octavia became emotionally engaged, even getting a hug from Big Macintosh and praising his efforts with the PA. By contrast, Vinyl Scratch started out in an encouraging vein, but as her hour approached, she retreated behind those rose-colored shades and a studied, stagey coolness that was oddly aggressive. She wasn’t unkind, but she seemed to ascend some private mountain, the better to tap into her bass drops and butt-shaking beats. There was no doubting the result. DJ Pon-3 turned a town of eager ponies into an orgiastic bacchanal of beats. Big Macintosh could feel the waves of adulation directed up at the little Neighponnese expatriate, returned home to lay the boogie down. And as the dancing progressed, DJ Pon-3 never lost her cool… but the audience got hotter and hotter. When she released them, half the stallions had huge boners, and half the mares had wet streaks down the inside of their thighs. And all the ponies had huge grins… and unmistakeable come-hither looks. Truly, music was a powerful force. Big Macintosh was watching the eager ponies drag each other off into the bushes in twos and sometimes threes or fours, and he was thinking about Hina. Surely, she would appreciate him deepening their relationship by using some nice unicorn mare… or stal… mare, anyway, to feed his beloved? It would be like cooking a delicious meal for her. His well-honed skills standing at stud must surely help him. And maybe, perhaps, keeping in practice might not be such a bad idea… “Hey!” came a voice. He turned, and saw a jet-black pegasus mare, her wings stiffly erect, eyeing him. “Um… hello?” “You’re not from around here,” she said, teasingly. “Eenope.” “Come with me,” said the pegasus mare. She was dressed in a strange, pointy, angled costume, and her attitude was one of effortless command. “What for?” said Big Macintosh. “Am Ah in trouble, ma’am?” She turned, staring at him and smirking. “Maybe I am. I hope so! Don’t be silly. Come and have sex!” “Uhh… okay!” said Big Macintosh, obligingly. He glanced back where he’d last seen Octavia. He saw her giving him a victorious hoof-pump and a wink, not with her marehood but still rather suggestive. It seemed he was off duty. Big Macintosh, wide-eyed, followed his unnamed black pegasus mare in her fierce costume as she led him away into the town. “Thankee kindly,” said Big Macintosh, “nice place y’got h… aw sweet Celestia!” He cowered back, to the astonishment of his would-be mare. “What is the matter with you?” she exclaimed. “Nothin’ yet, ma’am, and Ah’d like to keep it that way!” The little house was open plan with large archways between rooms, befitting a flying pony occupant. The bedroom was spacious, with a high ceiling, likewise appropriate for a pegasus. Upon entering the house, she’d flown up and thrown off her imposing pointy costume in a flurry of loop-de-loops, appropriate for a horny pegasus. All that wasn’t a problem. The outrageous assembly of trusses, winches and cables seemed more appropriate for Rarity’s inner sanctum, and Big Macintosh hadn’t bargained on anything like that. He stared at the black pegasus, eyes wide and panicky. She stamped the floor, and stuck out her lower lip. “Don’t be such a baby! I should be far more worried than you. Of course instead I am very excited, but who could blame me? You have no such excuse!” Big Macintosh gulped, eyeing the springs and pulleys. “Other than gittin’ trussed up by a crazy horny pony what I don’t even know her name? Beggin’ your pardon ma’am but I was imagining somethin’ different.” She blinked at him. “Name? I am Tobi, of course. Tobikomimasu. See, on my flank, the cutie mark of a target? I thought all ponies knew about me.” “Ah’m Big Macintosh and I ain’t never heard about you. I’m not from around here,” said Big Macintosh, “an’ I’m not sure what a target cutie mark has ta do with… listen, ma’am, them things probably ain’t even STRONG enough to hold up a Ponyville earth pony in the air. At least not one like me.” “Tell me more about you,” crooned Tobi, trotting over and rubbing against him. “Strong, did you say? Mmmmm.” “I ain’t had no complaints… hey!” said Big Macintosh. “You sure you should be doin’ that?” She was fondling his body with her wings. She blinked, again. “They’ll see worse. Mmmmm! I want to see your penis. Is it mighty?” “Mighty close to runnin’ the buck outta here!” Tobikomimasu sat down with a gentle squelch, looking dismayed. “No! Don’t flee! Talk to me, why do you say such strange things, Big Macintosh? What even is a Macintosh?” “Kind of apple,” explained Big Macintosh. “An’ it’s funny you should be tellin’ ME about strange things! An’ I’ve seen some mighty strange things in my day, Miss Tobi! Do you mind explainin’ what you mean to do with all that foofaraw?” He gestured to the harnesses and cables and pulleys and brackets. Tobi blinked. “You are so disconcerting! You really don’t know. Those guide me, Big Macintosh.” “Ah reckon Rarity woulda said the same thing,” said Big Macintosh, “but what they guided her TO was even more disconcertin’ at the time…” “What’s a Rarity?” asked Tobi. She shook herself, with a rustle of wings. “Never mind! Sit there and watch. I’ll show you!” Big Macintosh didn’t entirely follow her directions. Instead, he cringed back slightly as she rose, but soon he was gawking in complete astonishment, as he watched the pegasus mare’s preparations for sex. The very first thing she did was loop a peculiar, knobbly chain over her wing. Big Macintosh had been eyeing it the whole time and vowing that if it went toward his dick, he wasn’t going to stop running until at least the next town. His jaw dropped as he saw what Tobi was doing with it. There were two of them. She’d wrapped them around her wing bases in such a way that they’d tighten. “Ma’am,” said Big Macintosh seriously. “You lookin’ to foal with th’ stud from Ponyville?” She recoiled, raising a forehoof. “Why do you say that?” “Well, pegasus wings ain’t for idly messin’ with…” Tobi relaxed, with a laugh. “Don’t be silly! You are such a strange horse, knowing nothing of Neighpon! I’ve seen the Kirin, my duty is glory and not foals.” Big Macintosh’s ears were laid back. “Soooo… pegasi ain’t the same in Neighpon? No offense, ma’am. Back where I come from, what you’re doin’ there might cause a perty big reaction.” The black pegasus was serene again, fussing with hoof-cuffs on her forehooves as the other cables ran neatly under her folded wings. “I don’t know your different pegasi. And I am Tobikomimasu. I am known for big reactions.” She glanced up at him. “Promise me this one thing! If you are frightened and flee me, you must go and get help.” Big Macintosh’s ears laid back even more. “T’ain’t exactly reassuring.” “Not for you, for me!” replied Tobi. She shook herself, and took a deep breath. “I am ready. Press the button!” “Whut button?” “That button,” she said, and pointed a hoof towards a big red button on the floor, by a peculiar seat. Big Macintosh stepped toward it, and looked again. The whole area was stained. Nervously, he inspected the seat and button for bloodstains, but the residue seemed… clearer. He bent down to sniff it, and his nostrils flared. Eyup! Mare juice. He glanced up at Tobikomimasu. She bit her lip, shivering, and nodded. Big Macintosh stepped on the button, and all cabley hell broke loose. With a rattling whoosh, pulleys raced upwards, cables tightened, the room seemed to transform into a kinky web of suspension harnesses centered around the form of the pegasus Tobikomimasu. Her forelegs stretched one way, she lifted off the ground… but anyone who knew pegasi knew that wasn’t what made Tobi whinny wildly, her eyes rolling back in her head. The cables behind her yanked taut, and the knobbly choke-chains fiercely grabbed her by both wing bases at once, lifting her by them. For a moment, she could only writhe and squeal. Big Macintosh’s eyes dropped down. Her pony nipples were hard as rocks, and her pussy winked frantically, adding a little more mare juice to the extensive collection on the floor. His eyes rose, to see her splayed wings groping stiffly at the air, trembling so hard her feathers rattled. “Dang, Miss Tobi,” said Big Macintosh, impressed. “Ya sure you need me?” Her tail thrashed. She drew a shuddering breath, then another. “Get in the seat,” ordered Tobikomimasu. Big Macintosh began to grin. This promised to be a high-air mark for pegasus extremeness, and he wasn’t exactly inexperienced. “Yes’m,” he said, sternly repressing the temptation to tease her. If anything, he thought, he’d have to be quick, because she’d surely get off just dangling there. But then, mares didn’t work quite like stallions. If you remembered your tricks, they could keep going and going and going… Tobikomimasu didn’t see the slight fretful look on Big Macintosh’s face, as she was too distracted by the bold gnawing sensations wresting her wingbases into position. Nevertheless, he clambered into the unusual seat almost as if some wise cowpony were instructing him to take care of the pretty, frantic mare properly. He even hastily clopped himself, turning a burgeoning stallion erection into a mighty pillar. “Here ya go,” he encouraged. “Mare-tested, Princess-approved! This’ll set you right.” Tobi shivered wildly as she guided herself onto him. At first, she didn’t fit, but with ears laid back and a squeal of determination, she wedged Big Macintosh’s flare into herself and rested, panting. It was the oddest thing Big Macintosh had ever experienced, because normally if a mare on top of him got wobbly and melty, she’d sink down and penetrate herself from her own weight. Pegasi were very light, but Tobikomimasu was nearly weightless because she was suspended from forelegs and wing bases. Big Macintosh nuzzled her fluffy, heaving chest. Helpfully, he wrapped his forelegs around her, and with gentle tugs, he settled her lower, feeling his stiffness penetrate deeper and deeper as she cried out breathless whinnies of desire. “Uhmmm!” he moaned, feeling her lively rump press gently against his crotch. “That’s th’ way. Ya did it! You took a whole Ponyville pony.” He tensed his nether regions, swelling his girth just to feel her shudder and hear her squeal, his face pressed against the side of her chest. He stroked her mane. “Good girl…” “Let go!” begged Tobikomimasu. “Whut?” blinked Big Macintosh. She shook her head to clear it. “Don’t hold me down! Unhhhh! Let me be Tobikomimasu, hold onto the seat! Trust me!” Big Macintosh boggled at this request. But… it wasn’t the first time he’d been with an opinionated, bossy mare, and he figured he’d seen enough that little could shock him. So, he leaned back, released Tobikomimasu to hover upon his stallionhood, and he reached back with his forehooves to hold tight to the seat, even though he was a massive farm horse and unlikely to fly out of it anytime soon. And he watched… and his eyes widened, bit by bit. Tobikomimasu bared her pretty little teeth. She wriggled, squirming in a curious way atop him, twisting her pelvis. Big Macintosh had time to notice that she was a slippery, juicy little pegasus… and then it went beyond an observation, to a deeply significant fact. “Hey!” blurted Big Macintosh, for Tobikomimasu was bobbing vigorously on top of him, her wings jittering and rattling in delicious little spasms, splayed by the suspending cables and those fierce, knobbly harness points. Her tail thrashed, and she snarled with pleasure, for she was taking him exceptionally rough. “Ahh!” she squealed, but when Big Macintosh released the chair and reached up to steady her, she glared fretfully at him. “Arato! Do not let go, Big Macintosh! You could sprain this wonderful cock!” Big Macintosh gulped, and under her critical gaze, he desisted and hung onto the chair again. “Do you need to adjust?” asked Tobikomimasu. “Are you comfortable? Great forces are at play. You must present a stable base.” “Never heard it called that!” replied Big Macintosh, his ears back. “Y’call this play, do ya?” At that, Tobikomimasu began to smile a partly-wicked, partly-transcendent smile. “No, Big Macintosh. This is glory… and I am honored.” She licked her lips with a cute little tongue. “Deeply honored.” “Eyup. Ah noticed!” “Oh, not yet,” crooned the quivering pegasus. “Not yet, you haven’t.” She gave him another hard look, and Big Macintosh lay back in the chair, holding on determinedly, and stuck out his lower lip in a cranky pout. “Ah kin take it,” he said, “you go on an’ have your fun, now. Got to admit it feels gosh dern amazin’.” “Not yet, it doesn’t,” returned Tobikomimasu, with that naughty smile. “Prove it,” parried Big Macintosh. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and wriggled again, and he could feel her yielding pussy gripping onto him with tender earnestness, a parting squeeze before she resumed her operations. “Like that?” asked Big Macintosh. “Is that th’ way of it? Gonna go all pinchy? That kin be a treat…” “Sh! No. Be still. You are so large. I must focus.” And she did, as Big Macintosh watched. She wriggled her hips again. She wriggled her wings, allowing the knobbly chains to seize her just a little more fiercely, baring her teeth in pleasure again… and she focussed, concentrating her efforts as she began to bob upon him once more. Not to clench… but to relax. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. That was different. Not that he was a stranger to it… there had been mares, for instance Fluttershy, who got into an extremely relaxed state. He’d still feel the pressure of their bodies, but he’d be able to cavort inside them pretty vigorously if he was careful. Tobikomimasu wasn’t careful, but she was melting around him like nothing he’d ever experienced. She seemed to lubricate in bucketfuls, and the sensation was eerily like he was turning her to liquid… very happy liquid, from the sounds of it, but he’d not experienced anything so yielding inside a mare. She’d sink down until she nearly ground into his crotch, then lift way up to where his increasingly enthusiastic flare threatened to pull free of her, and then down she went again, with a tremble or a squeal, those wings twisting against their harsh restraints. Big Macintosh wondered what that even did to you, if you were a pegasus mare. What madness would it drive you to, being suspended by such a fierce bitey grip on both your wings? “Erk!” went Big Macintosh, and hastily quieted himself for fear he’d be scolded. His question had been answered nearly the instant it had been asked. He directed all his attention to holding perfectly still, his cock throbbing with audacious hardness. Tobikomimasu had achieved lift-off. Using the combination of her partly immobilized wings, her own momentum, and the elaborate harness, her eager thrusts onto him had expanded to the point where, with a loud juicy pop, she was pulling entirely off of Big Macintosh’s scandalized cock… and then, slamming down with perfect aim to impale herself upon it. She began to wail, but it wasn’t any louder than the noises her body made from this treatment: Big Macintosh boggled, motionless and rigid, for he’d never even contemplated treating a mare this way, especially at his girth. He could see he was all flared out. She didn’t seem to care. Her body was like jelly, even while she guided her fierce plunges with flicks of wing. She screamed ecstatically, not even slowing down. Squelch… squelch… squelch… Big Macintosh flared harder, and he gritted his teeth, feeling his orgasm coming on strong. It didn’t stop her. The squelches got louder, prying her jelly-ized vagina absurdly wide with every violent plunge deeply into her. He held absolutely still, while she hammered herself onto him with steadily building frenzy, her squeals turning to earsplitting shrieks, and even in this she somehow maintained control: even as her orgiastic cries hurt the ears, they built smoothly to that point, her thunderous spasming never causing her to tense up or pinch onto him. Tobikomimasu plunged again and again, impossibly loose and yielding, taking on Big Macintosh’s flare right up to the moment of… “NGGH!” Covered in mare juice, glistening and slick and pumped up to the ultimate scandalous bulging peak of stiffness, Big Macintosh’s cock let go and blasted Tobikomimasu. Not inside her: with a huge surge, he blasted her whole crotch and breasts and the dock of her tail with horsecome, and then even as he did, she plunged down onto him with a cry of lawless ecstacy, and up she went again, and he was still coming and an arc of semen sailed into the air to splatter on the floor, and then plunge and another rope of come fired into her warm wet pussy insides, only to dump right out again as she soared up, and just as Big Macintosh began to wonder in alarm if she proposed to keep going forever, Tobikomimasu screamed, “NOW! Now!” And she dropped down onto his erection with a brutal scrunch, her wings spasming so hard that feathers flew off of them, and cried, “Hold me, hold me tight!” Big Macintosh did so, privately wishing she’d gone over her plans with him in advance. Had she not noticed that he’d come all over her undercarriage already? But it wasn’t that. Things became more clear by the second. Tobikomimasu pressed down as hard as she could, and cautiously, Big Macintosh helped, wrapping her in a hug and pulling her deeper onto his just-fired cannon. “EEEEE!” squealed the frantic black pegasus, her body shaking violently in his embrace, and she nuzzled against his neck as if possessed by fire spirits or pink demons, and while securely jammed onto the cock that had been plunging her, she at last gave way to unbridled climaxes. All coordination lost, she thrashed and clenched upon him and cut loose with incoherent screams, a peak that went on and on. There was still a jelly-quality to her vagina and she didn’t have nearly the clenchy-fierceness of other mares, but that seemed hardly surprising. Big Macintosh was privately amazed that she didn’t walk around with a hoof-wide hole in her all the time, given the kind of fun she seemed to crave. Slowly, her spasms subsided. Big Macintosh petted her mane, beyond words. Finally, he found some, looking at her wings. They twitched, still locked in the cruel grip of those knobbly chains, and he thought it looked painful. “Kin I loose ya? From them things, Ah mean. Ah would kinda like to keep a’cuddlin ya, on account of that was for sure amazin’.” Tobikomimasu croaked weakly, “Button… again.” His rear hoof could just about stretch over, and with a sharp kick, the button was pushed… and all the cables and pulleys released at once, falling with a clatter and slither to the floor. Big Macintosh tenderly tugged at the knobbly chains with his teeth, until they untangled and fell away from Tobikomimasu’s poor thrashed wings. He marveled, as he felt his dick subside and ease its harsh occupation of her surprisingly-capacious pussy. He nuzzled one black wing, so light in the manner of pegasus wings, so frazzled and disheveled after the performance she’d put on… and so untouchable and forbidden, in his experience. Hesitantly, with a sense of deep wonder, Big Macintosh nuzzled her wing again, where it had been boldly crunched in a cruel grip. Every part of her was utterly relaxed and sated. He closed his lips upon her wing shank, and she didn’t resist or object. Reflectively, he tugged an ebony feather. Tobikomimasu was so completely drained that she didn’t even twitch at this act, which would be so unthinkable to any Ponyville pegasus. Of course, to them it meant pregnancy. Her world seemed to use different rules. And so, she’d tapped into every erotic trigger she had, along with some strange discipline he’d never felt from a mare, to sexually bash herself into a quivering splat of a pegasus upon his giant Ponyville cock. Maybe she’d need to go see the Kirin. He tried to peek under her to see if he’d done physical damage, but having sated herself she had collapsed against his crotch with the full weight of a totally limp pony. His erection had subsided, but even before that was true, she’d gone to the absolute hilt and as far beyond as she could shove. She’d done things to herself he would never do to a mare, not in a thousand years, and had seemingly got away with it. Big Macintosh hugged her again, provoking a feeble croon. He tried to look in her eyes, though they were really glazed. “Why?” he asked. “Why ya take it so dang hard, Tobi?” She nuzzled against his neck with the power of a kitten sleeping in a sunbeam, and just as much satisfaction. “Glory…” she managed, and then she passed out and began to snore in his embrace. Big Macintosh sat there for quite a while, mulling it over. “No shit, really?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, trotting placidly along in harness. “Pulleys? Chains? Did you say on her WINGS?” pressed Scratch. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. “And she was bouncing up so high she pulled right the fuck off you, and then boom, all the way? Are you shittin’ me, Big Macintosh? I mean, that’s crazy even for one of our pegasi. Is that really true?” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. “Did she come?” teased Vinyl Scratch. Pause. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. Scratch cackled with laughter. “Baaahaha! That’s hilarious. I want to try!” “Ya do?” said Big Macintosh, his ears quirking in surprise. “Not with you!” Vinyl hastily corrected. “I mean, even if you were normal sized, no. I guess I’m assuming you’re not? None of my business, we’re a road crew, that’s what groupies are for. I’m glad you’re having some fun, Big Macintosh. I just mean, I’d like to play in a harness like that sometime.” “Really, Scratchie?” chided Octavia. “I don’t think that’s wise, from how he described it.” “Oh, yeah?” retorted Scratch. “Unless you start practicing with the OTHER side of the barbell,” said Octavia. “Oh. Yeah, you have a point… so, Big Macintosh, while she was doing it, did you notice her like clamping down at any point? In a way where it’d hurt her to get rammed into like that? Or was it like she just had this amazing gift for turning into a loosey-goose melty-pony who can take anything?” “I have that gift,” said Octavia proudly. “I’m famous for it.” “Uh-huh.” “Soooo, Big Macintosh,” continued Octavia, “how exactly did she arrange these pulleys and cables?” “You’ll crush him to DEATH,” accused Vinyl Scratch. “How hard would Stout Heart want you to bounce? Seriously. Be careful how you answer.” Octavia pouted, frowning. “Never tell him, ever,” she concluded, and pouted harder. “Curse it!” Scratch gave her a little kiss. “I promise. Curse it twice! Neither of us can try it, for opposite reasons. I’m too bad at it, and you’re too good!” “Some pegasi have all the luck,” grumbled Octavia, as the cart rolled cheerfully away over the hill and out of sight.
DeeperKirin did not freak out, as a rule. Kirin… considered. Kirin took a long view, and did not jump to conclusions if they could help it. Kirin, confronting the mystery of the empty boat and the mysterious tracks in the sand, undertook to consider this as well… and did so, patiently. And sometimes, unbeknownst to ponies, Kirin politely argued, abandoning their elaborate courtly diction, over the management of their charges and the extent of their responsibilities to their little ponies of all sorts. “Good ponies are affectionate with each other,” said Yosuru. “Kawa is right to be puzzled, it is strange for a visiting pony not to seek shelter in the town. Why would he, or she, not look to the companionship and love of the townsponies?” Kantokusha lifted an eyebrow, his horn glimmering thoughtfully. “The visiting pony arrived at Kabochaebi.” “We enjoy Kabochaebi!” protested Yosuru. “What are you suggesting?” “The visiting pony arrived at a town where all the ponies staggered home drunk in the small hours of the morning,” explained Kantokusha. “The town is named after the dreaded pirate captain and full of her former crew. A visiting pony’s expectations of companionship, or indeed love, might be seen differently through the lens of this famous history.” “They DO love,” insisted Kawa, who’d discovered the boat and the curious tracks that led nowhere. “Yes, I know,” said Kantokusha. “I healed a wandering colt who’d encountered their town. They’d loved him all night long, until he was exhausted and injured.” Yosuru pouted. “That’s not fair. I remember the situation, and it was expecting too much of Kabochaebi, and that colt would have been perfectly fine if he didn’t keep on crawling back and demanding more. They’d put him to bed nicely three times and he repeatedly woke up and sought them out for repeated buggering. You said yourself part of his trouble was dehydration, because they were using his youthful orgasms for target practice. With his delighted approval, I might add. They said he seemed never to tire of that game.” “They were responsible for attending to his well-being!” argued Kantokusha. “I’ll grant you that they had only rice-cider on hoof to drink, but somepony could have gone and got water. They could have recognized that he had gone far beyond acceptable limits for a pony!” “He was a pegasus colt, they know nothing of limits, and it was many years ago!” said Kawa. “Why do you bring this up, anyway?” Kantokusha frowned. “Only to explain that there may be a logical reason for this visiting stranger to shy away from Kabochaebi,” he said. “Or to seek it out?” teased Yosuru. She smiled at the visiting, higher-ranking Kirin. He nodded, reluctantly. “That is true. And I will admit that they have been more civilized in recent years. Do you have other explanations for this odd occurrence?” Yosuru shook her head. “No. And it’s not the only odd occurrence. I appreciate your visiting, Kantokusha, even if you don’t love Kabochaebi as we do. There was rumor of a weird monster also reaching Neighpon’s shores. It was three bays east of Kabochaebi, and it was this morning, while Kawa discovered this curious boat mystery late last night.” “Weird monster?” asked Kantokusha, with an indulgent smile. “Forgive us,” said Yosuru. “Yes, we’re referring to Taikutsuna, the fishing village you yourself watch over. But the emanations of panic extended so far! It seemed that surely you were not at home, and the ponies were frightened…” “Tell me more,” said Kantokusha, sternly. Yosuru blushed, and scratched at the grass with a hoof, only to blush worse at the needless injury to grass. She glanced up at Kantokusha, with almost a resentful look. “They were frightened. We rushed over to help, and the little ponies were running about in all directions, whinnying and crying. We did soothe them, and I’m not sorry, and they told us what had happened. Where were you?” “First tell me their story,” said Kantokusha, “and then I will tell you where I was.” Yosuru took a deep breath. Kawa, loyally, hugged her. She continued. “They told us a tale of this weird monster,” she said. “It had flown over the sea to attack their village. It flew in with multi-colored wings and a strange baggy body and a long tail that waved in the wind.” “Go on,” said Kantokusha, with the hint of a smirk. “Is this an evil dragon?” asked Yosuru. “Did you encounter it?” “Did my ponies tell you anything else?” “They did,” said Yosuru, truculently. “It emitted high pitched squeaks that caused ponies to fall over, stunned. It flies very fast, very very fast like the wind, while cursing and arguing loudly with itself. What?!” Kantokusha could not repress his laughter. Yosuru scowled fretfully at him, while he contained himself. “I’m sorry, Yosuru,” he said. “My ponies are so imaginative! But there’s a reason I am so protective of them, and so strict about interactions between them and your ponies of Kabochaebi. My ponies are artists and poets, and their minds roam wild and free even as their worlds are sheltered from harm.” Yosuru pouted. “Well, my ponies run wild too. And they sing songs!” “I’ve heard these songs,” chided Kantokusha. “My pegasus colt was the subject of not less than five of these songs, recounting his debaucheries in the most filthy manner.” “For which he is still, to this day, extremely proud,” replied Yosuru. “I happen to know he sought to return and inspire more songs, and you had to carry him off by his tail because he was frightening my pirate-ponies. And that’s what inspired the fifth song, which you are in.” “Don’t remind me," moaned Kantokusha. “And it only goes to show you, Yosuru, that even the gentlest and most civilized ponies can produce fierce and brave warriors… so you needn’t be so proud of the barely-tamed savagery of your ponies. I am proud of the serenity of mine. And you’re welcome, by the way, for me rescuing your ponies from my pegasus colt. You’ve never thanked me for that, and the whole way back to Taikutsuna he was crying and kicking my face most uncomfortably with his little hooves.” Yosuru’s eyes bugged out. “Really! Then I thank you, belatedly. Poor Kantokusha! I’m surprised you didn’t try to trade him to me for one of my pirate-ponies.” Kantokusha frowned. “You are joking. My ponies make songs about your ponies too, you know. Quite romantic but impractical songs. That is not a reasonable suggestion, my ponies would likely treat one of your pirates as a celebrity, which would undo much of Daiyam’s work with them.” Yosuru pouted. “Probably true.” Then her eyes widened. “I have become distracted! Kantokusha, what are we to do about the weird monster? Even now, it might be ravaging the countryside! Other ponies might be in danger. Our patrolling pegasi, even ones as brave as your debaucherous colt, could be injured or killed by a large evil monster!” “I have not told you who I was with,” said Kantokusha, coolly. “What has that to do with…” began Yosuru, and then calmed herself and looked expectantly at Kantokusha. “Very good,” said Kantokusha. “Don’t be hotheaded like your ponies. There is a perfectly good explanation for all this. I was away, because I was meditating with Daiyam.” “Daiyam!” exclaimed Kawa. “He was just here, to see the visiting Ponyville mare!” “Yes, he told me about her,” said Kantokusha. “Is it not natural that he’d want to visit such a peaceful and good pony town afterward? And of course I was honored to receive him, and at his invitation, we went off to a nearby mountaintop and meditated for a while.” “Did you catch the evil dragon?” pressed Yosuru. “There is no evil dragon,” said Kantokusha imperturbably. “Remember the nature of my ponies, Yosuru. I told you they were imaginative. There is something to be said for your ponies, you know. They have a resilience and aren’t easily frightened… or perhaps they’re so afraid of your pirate queen, whom I believe is not tame at all, that they have no fear for anything else. My ponies are better protected, and in the absence of real danger they imagine dangers for themselves. It is a sad but harmless consequence of how very well I take care of all their needs. I think if you forgot your ponies, or they faced some threat in your absence, they’d have a wonderful time fighting back and not think anything of it. My ponies are far more sensitive, and you caught them imagining things.” Yosuru had the hint of a sulky, truculent look again, for Kantokusha’s opinion of her ponies was not really flattering coming from him. “How do you know there was no dragon, or monster?” she objected. “Daiyam was still with me when I returned to Taikutsuna,” explained Kantokusha. “My ponies immediately told me of their experience. I may say that Daiyam praised your actions highly, perhaps over-highly, but you did seem to calm them. However, they remained convinced they’d seen a Weird Monster.” “And?” “Daiyam and I melded minds, and extended our sense for wickedness and evil,” said Kantokusha. “You may not think my wisdom and power is profound, but you must surely trust Daiyam. He is Kirin of all the south of Neighpon. Daiyam is certain that no evil monster passed our way. My ponies believed him, and were calmed.” Yosuru pouted. “They were already calmed, Kantokusha. Kawa and I saw to it.” “Very well, then,” said Kantokusha, “they were convinced? Convinced they had been imagining things. Honestly, Yosuru! How did you not tell them they were making up wild stories to frighten themselves? They’re little ponies, and can’t be trusted to think! Who could imagine a flying monster with different colored wings that stuns ponies with high pitched squeaks? And why would it curse and argue as it went? Surely this is a metaphorical image of pony contentiousness come alive in the imaginations of my poets.” Yosuru hesitated. “Or… hallucinations?” “Oh, we checked,” said Kantokusha sternly. “No, Yosuru. Your ponies have not been bottling nautical fixture-cleaning fluid and selling it to my ponies, again. Due to the colorful nature of their story, that was the first thing Daiyam and I checked. I’m still not sure I’ve forgiven your pirates for that one.” “They stopped right away!” protested Yosuru. “It’s been years!” “Only through the combined efforts of Daiyam and your own Kabochaebi,” scolded Kantokusha. “I do appreciate that: I hadn’t expected that from her. Your little pirate princess is totally mad, but does wish to be good. I hope that continues.” “Of course it does!” said Yosuru, defensively. “See that it does,” said Kantokusha. “I know from Daiyam that your town still requires a great deal of rice cider, though it is improving. Daiyam says he is trying to teach your ponies to drink tea, and not to put twelve teabags in and then bounce all over the town like a pink demon. Though he did say it was adorable, and I suppose it was.” “You still have those?” asked Yosuru, her ears perking up. “Pink demons? And of course it was adorable, Kantokusha. My ponies are still ponies. We love them dearly as they slowly return to their true natures. Talk to Daiyam again about that. But did you say you still have pink demons?” Kantokusha frowned. “It’s another metaphor, Yosuru. Daiyam didn’t say that, I was indulging my own poetic nature. They aren’t a real thing, they’re a metaphor for a pony bouncing around manically. Usually they are a symbol for sugar, not tea. They don’t exist, Yosuru. Daiyam has never seen one, nor I.” “I thought I did,” said Kawa, uncertainly. “They don’t seem to like Kabochaebi, we’ve had no sightings at all.” “Because they do not exist,” asserted Kantokusha. “So, are you satisfied? There’s no Weird Monster, either. I apologize for the distractions of my little ponies, and I thank you for making at least some efforts to soothe them.” “You’re welcome,” said Yosuru, her ears back. “And what about the pony who has come ashore and snuck away in the dead of night, like a spy, without greeting our ponies?” “I’d call that sensible,” said Kantokusha, “and no concern of mine. Good day!” Yosuru’s ears laid even further back at the unthinking insult to her ponies. Kantokusha didn’t deign to notice this. He turned decorously, flicked his tail, and trotted off into the sky on a gentle ramp made of magically-created mists. Yosuru and Kawa watched him go. After he was well out of sight, Yosuru heaved a great sigh. “So frustrating,” she said. “Breathe, Yosuru,” urged Kawa. “You’ve done well. I believe you may put more effort into achieving harmony with him and Taikutsuna than he does, for all his power and wisdom.” “Of course I do,” said Yosuru sourly. “He makes no effort at all. It’s a shame I can’t wake him up or get some humility into him, and I’m surprised Daiyam doesn’t see it.” “Don’t you trust Daiyam to know best?” said Kawa. “Daiyam brought you… me.” “I do,” grumbled Yosuru. “And I remain grateful for the help.” She turned, and gave her companion a little kiss. “Very well. There shall be harmony.” He hesitated, uncertain, scuffing the ground, and then he said, “Yosuru?” “Yes?” “Did you ask him about hallucinations for a reason, Yosuru?” At this, the older Kirin blushed. “Have you been…” “No, Kawa,” interrupted Yosuru, blushing brightly. “I have not been helping our ponies smuggle cleaning fluid into Taikutsana. No matter how funny it would be, or how richly Kantokusha would deserve it. Don’t be silly.” The younger Kirin held his ground. “I think you are missing a word.” “Am I?” “Why am I here, Yosuru? And before you fuss, I am grateful to be here, and I love you and enjoy your company. You and this town are a continuing education, and I owe it all to Daiyam’s wisdom. But I need a particular word from you, and you know what word that is.” Yosuru sighed. “Of course, dear one. Very well. I have not been helping our ponies smuggle cleaning fluid into Taikutsana… AGAIN.” “Thank you,” said Kawa. “I think I would know it if you did, but it means much to hear you say that.” “It’s only distilled rice cider, for goodness’ sake,” grumbled Yosuru. “If it didn’t worry you so much, I would still be drinking it myself.” “Yes, and the pirate ponies would still be competing with you,” said Kawa. “And that is an unhappy fate for a pony. They haven’t got your magic, and it’s an unfitting use for Kirin magic anyhow. Remember poor Bucket, who almost kept up with you that night!” “I know,” sighed Yosuru. “I was only trying to meet them on their level!” Kawa gave her a kiss in return. “Dearest Yosuru, I am sure they love you the best of all Kirin. And the reason is, you succeeded. Please be patient and gentle while we all lead them and you back to pony sweetness and love. I am personally convinced we would have lost this town if not for you… but some things are right for a time, and only for a time.” “Yes,” said Yosuru reflectively. She contemplated for a moment, and then looked sidelong at him. “I was cross with Kantokusha for being ungrateful. When we helped soothe his ponies, this morning.” “Yes,” said Kawa. “I’m more grateful than that. Thank you again for rescuing me from Kabochaebi, Kawa. Between you and Daiyam, it made everything all right.” Kawa grinned wryly. “Yikes! I shall never forget that day. It is another reason for you to be good, Yosuru: never again do naughty things with the pirate ponies, when the pirate queen has resolved that they will all be good. I feared for her.” “I would never have hurt her!” “She needed to have faith in her pirate crew,” said Kawa, “my worry was that she’d lose her balance. But she is only a pony, and a strange little mare besides: I think she expected them to purely obey her and follow her lead. It is a lesson in following the pattern of good that Kirin like Daiyam try to teach us: none of us see all of the pattern at once. Yet I believe that the ponies of Kabochaebi would not have stayed good, if they hadn’t been able to relate to you, as you… er… went native?” “As the Pirate Kirin of Kabochaebi Bay?” teased Yosuru. He winced. “Shush, please, dearest! You know Daiyam swore me to secrecy. I am still amazed it worked.” Yosuru hugged him. “Of course it did. And really, partying with the ponies is not all that terribly wicked, though I suppose some of the pranks crossed a line, especially with Kantokusha who still frustrates me. But I was reminded of goodness and our higher purpose by Daiyam… and little Kabochaebi, how she raged at my transgressions… and by you.” Kawa sighed. “I have to trust that pattern. I wonder if Daiyam sees it whole, or if he frets as I do?” Yosuru gazed into his eyes, serenely. “Of course not. To both questions… I don’t see the pattern either. But we’ve helped Taikutsuna without mischief, and I’ve been kind to Kantokusha even though he doesn’t care for us, and from where I stand, I trust the pattern we weave as much as Daiyam does. And I can sense that he trusts it with all of his life, yet I am sure he too accepts its deep mystery.” “Yes,” sighed Kawa. “It is all of that.” “Come, Kawa,” said Yosuru. “Let us go home, and cuddle. All is well. Though I am still very curious about this Sneaking Spy!” “And the Weird Monster,” suggested Kawa, “and, I suppose, the Pink Demons?” “Of course,” said Yosuru. “But we can go chase those tomorrow.” Kawa blinked. “What?” Yosuru giggled. “Well, Kantokusha was right about one thing: our town can look after itself without us! Tomorrow we’ll set out to see what’s happening in Neighpon.” Quietly, nuzzling each other, the Kirin headed off to snuggle and restore their serenities together. Further north, and later that evening, a lot was happening. Octavia had performed, and DJ Pon-3 was in the house (or, rather, on the hillside), and she’d come up with some kind of new throb that was driving the crowd of dancing ponies berserk. A group of unicorns had gathered at the front of the stage, and were producing flashy light displays from their horns. DJ Pon-3 had frowned at this at first, but then she seemed to take it as a challenge—and with a wicked little grin she amped up the energy of her mix until the hapless unicorns were going off like visual explosions. Some had passed out, only to be dragged off and cuddled by other ponies by the side of the impromptu stage. Big Macintosh danced a galumphing dance, at the center of the festivities. His work was done for the evening. A few careful inquiries had told him that Hina-rin didn’t live in this town: there were apparently all of three Kirin, and everypony seemed to be extremely smug about the wonderfulness of their Kirin in their charming lakeside village. Big Macintosh supposed that was fine. The Kirin didn’t seem to be in evidence, but there seemed no need for them: for such an out-of-control DJ set, everything seemed very well in control. And so, Big Macintosh galumphed about in the middle of a fascinated ring of mares plus a few stallions, having a grand old time despite his longing for Hina. She wasn’t in this town, so… more practice? He cast an increasingly practiced eye across the collected mares, wondering what awaited him later that evening. If he was any judge, Neighponnese horny mares didn’t leave you wondering. One of them… or perhaps several of them? …would surely drag off the Ponyville stranger to her bedroom. As DJ Pon-3’s set worked itself into a bass frenzy, Big Macintosh prepared himself to be pony pounced. The bass pounded its way to a final crescendo. The unicorns in front of the stage concentrated, melding themselves with the music. DJ Pon-3 smirked with delighted wickedness… and hit a last breakdown with a thundering crash, while leaving the first turntable at full volume and twirling it up to absurd pitch with her hoof, producing an effect like a techno explosion in the brain. All the unicorns shrieked in excitement and seemed to explode in light, mostly following the accelerating surge of wild synthesizers on the fast turntable, but also reacting to the huge final beat on the other turntable. All the unicorns fainted dead away, to be cuddled and praised by fellow ponies. The night became dark, with only the ebbing electronic purrs of DJ Pon-3’s mighty decks, and the dim view of the little expatriate unicorn, head bowed, bass drops spent. Her shades glinted faintly in the night. The applause was like a force of nature… at first, the silence of shock, and then the building cheer, and DJ Pon-3 lifted her head and looked out upon her people, a sea of madly grinning pony faces, drenched in sweat. “Take care of those unicorns, okay?” said DJ Pon-3. “Even if they couldn’t keep up. Good night, everypony.” She staggered as she walked away from the decks, herself drained to the limit, but Octavia was right there to catch her and the two made their way backstage amidst a tsunami of cheering. Big Macintosh blinked. While he’d been watching his employers, he’d been surrounded. No… mobbed, by mares. Eager, hungry-looking mares, with a scent of clean sweat and very dirty-minded personal bits. So, just about the best scent ever. Mostly earth ponies, a couple pegasi, no unicorns of course as they were all spent… No, there was one unicorn, a tiny one. Other ponies seemed to look down at her, gasp, and make way. A very determined tiny little unicorn, by proportions not a filly, but still rather lost in the crowd. What was she after? She made a beeline for Big Macintosh, other ponies moving hastily out of her way and pretending they’d just remembered important appointments. “You!” she cried, delightedly. “You’re magnificent!” “Uhh… thanks?” said Big Macintosh. “Come with me!” announced the diminutive unicorn. “I am Yutakana! I am excited to meet you!” Big Macintosh blinked. The crowd seemed to be giggling, shaking their heads, amused. He looked around in perplexity. The expressions around him were hard to interpret. It wasn’t all amusement: a few faces looked worried, some looked angry and frustrated. One of the latter mares cried, “No, Yutakana, share!” The tiny unicorn whirled. “After all I do for you? Mikaitaku! Behave!” It seemed to be a persuasive argument. Big Macintosh found himself standing with the tiny mare, as all the other ponies wandered off to party elsewhere. He gazed down at Yutakana, perplexed. She gazed up at him, triumphantly, and the look in her eyes was parades and brass fanfares. “Yay!” she said, her hocks quivering. “Y’think?” said Big Macintosh, wrinkling his brow. “Come with me! I am very important! And you are very exciting!” she announced. Without another word, she turned and began trotting away, down the hill. Big Macintosh followed, and his nostrils flared. In the moonlight, he could see that little feisty Yutakana was drippingly aroused, winking at him with every third step or so. It seemed his decision had been made for him, though it seemed a strange and perhaps alarming decision. Yutakana didn’t even slow down. She nearly galloped all the way to the lakeside, and trotted well out onto the beach. Following, Big Macintosh wondered if she meant to enjoy a romantic evening with the moon reflecting off the water. She turned her head. She was a pale minty green, with vivid emerald eyes well used to command, and Big Macintosh took in everything about her from her high and mighty chin to her curiously long horn to the roundness of her disturbingly dainty rump… and the explosion in an ooze factory that made her vulva, the insides of her rump-cheeks, and the insides of her legs glisten wetly in the moonlight from her heedless galloping. “I want you to push your cock all the way into me, as hard as you possibly can,” ordered Yutakana. Big Macintosh blinked. “Ma’am, that ain’t nice to do to a mare. I have a… uhhh, I knew a fella who taught me how to please a mare, and it ain’t about that, honest it ain’t.” “Yes it is,” retorted Yutakana. “It ain’t! Am I missin’ somethin’ here? Dang it, miss, look at me!” “Yay!” squeed the tiny unicorn, doing just that. “Naw, Ah’m serious!” protested Big Macintosh. “I am a big pony and I’m gittin’ excited and you’re gonna be dealin’ with a big ol’ horsecock that… dern it, I’m not helping things, am I?” Yutakana swayed, drooling, her eyes fevered and locked on Big Macintosh’s massive cock as it swelled and swung forward at her. Nothing in her manner suggested any sort of caution. She trembled with obvious desire, if that wasn’t already too feeble a word to express her ravenousness. “I want you to push THAT into me, all the way, as HARD as you POSSIBLY CAN,” clarified Yutakana. She stamped a forehoof in the moonlit beach sand, and then wobbled, overcome with lust. Big Macintosh gulped, looking at her pert little pussy. “Okay, um, language check ma’am? Do you p’raps mean, ya want me to GIT as hard as I possibly can, and then fill you up nice? Uh, always assumin’ it even fits…” Yutakana gave a little shriek. “Aaaah! Language check, yes. I want you to put your cock in me, and push forward until there is no room, and then push forward more with all the strength of your body. I want all of the pressure ever! All of the cock pressure pushing deeper into me, AHHH! Now, now!” “Well jes’ a moment,” objected Big Macintosh, his ears back. “First of all that’s gosh dern crazy, look at th’ size of me…” “Yay!” “Aw, shut up with that!” blurted Big Macintosh. “And second of all look at the size of you! How am I supposed to mount on you, ain’t no way you can support my weight or nothin’, and if I do like what you’re askin’ I’ll just fall over on my face from pushin’ you down under my nuts!” This stopped the manic pixie pony. She frowned, wrinkling her brow, and then brightened. “Sit down on your rump! You will pull me down onto yourself, with all of your strength!” Big Macintosh regarded her in disbelief. “It’s almost like you done this dance before, ma’am.” “Of course I have done this before!” squealed Yutakana, fretfully. “Why are you waiting?” “Is this a magic thing?” pressed Big Macintosh, still staring at the lust-maddened, tiny, lube-soaked unicorn mare. “It is the most magic thing!” “Then what’s th’ magic word?” said Big Macintosh, sitting back onto his rump and crossing his forelegs. “Whee!” cried Yutakana, trying to trot backwards. “Uht!” A hoof met her petite rump and blocked her. “The other magic word,” demanded Big Macintosh, his ears plastered back in disconcerted amazement. It only took her a moment. “PLEASE!” cried Yutakana happily. “Please shove that cock all the way into me and then grab on and pull me farther onto it until the magic happens!” Big Macintosh’s ears couldn’t possibly lay any farther back. But, at the same time, he had never seen or even imagined a mare of any size or shape being this enthusiastic or this confident. “Must be some kinda magic,” he muttered. “Eeee! Ee! Ee!” squeed Yutakana, and her horn began to glitter and ooze magic much as her vagina oozed slippery lube. “All right, sugarcube,” sighed Big Macintosh. “Let’s see what ya got.” His eyes bugged out, as he learned. Yutakana lunged back at his rapidly hardening erection, her itty-bitty rump-cheeks quivering with desire, and indeed she seemed well-practiced, for she landed with his cock dead-centered across her diminutive vulva. Big Macintosh had just one moment to realize that, no, the dainty unicorn was not built with a massive cavernous vagina, that indeed he wasn’t exactly going to fit. Then, with a warrior shriek, Yutakana had shoved back onto him, with a sharp prying sensation and a feeling like corking a bottle… and his flare was inside her, swelling up quick as a wink until it could not be withdrawn. “Dang! You okay, ma’am?” “NggARRRGH!” howled Yutakana. “Jes’ a moment, I’ll… well dang…” Big Macintosh’s eyes crossed. The tiny pale-mint unicorn was in fact shoving herself backwards onto him with all her strength. He could feel his throbbing cock, trapped in cramped confines, sliding through strained, slick mareflesh. She was considerably deeper than he expected. Her depths felt odd, but amazing. The compression was astonishing inside the petite, frantic mare. Tenderly, he wrapped his forelegs around her fiercely shaking body, seeing sparks come off her horn as if it was a fuse. “Th’ magic?” Her eyes were squeezed tight shut, tears leaking from them, her teeth gritted. “MORE!” she squealed. “ALL!” “You’re sure about this magic?” Yutakana just wrapped her own forelegs around his, clenched her dainty rump against his cockbase, and howled like a timberwolf. Big Macintosh shrugged… and did as he was told. He could feel her heart pounding as his forelegs tightened against her. At first gently, and then with increasing power, he wrapped himself around his petite lover, and thrust deeper and deeper into her with all the strength of his mighty back, all the clutch of his powerful forelegs. As he did, he saw the magic she’d talked about. Yutakana’s heart-rate seemed to explode, hammering like a rabid chipmunk as Big Macintosh’s cock took up all the elasticity inside her and kept pushing. She had just enough breath to begin to shriek, and then as soon as Big Macintosh impaled her beyond that point, as soon as there was no more space for the little unicorn mare to give and her lover’s hardness demanded more and more and MORE, that was when Big Macintosh had to strain her even more tightly to his massive chest, for Yutakana thrashed in his grip as if having a seizure, just for an instant. Then, a thick gout of horngasm blasted violently from her horn, as an expression of anguished ecstacy came to her face. She screamed a croaking yowl of breathless orgiastic release, painful but epic sounding. Big Macintosh twisted his face away from the magic inferno he was causing, holding her body tightly against the thrashing and spasms. It wouldn’t stop! Awed, he squinted against the glare. She couldn’t even cry out any more. She only shook in his tight embrace, her body wildly alive against him, spasming on and on in impossibly intense orgasm, and her horn gushing magic in torrents out into the middle of the lake. Was this the secret? He’d never heard of anything like this. His cock throbbed, painfully, locked in its tiny prison. Yutakana drew half a breath, and keened, fevered, still blasting magic unceasingly. Big Macintosh nuzzled her mane trustingly, squeezed his eyes shut, and went to finish her off by dragging her down onto his cock with his full strength, just as she’d repeatedly asked him to do. Her little body went absolutely rigid. Her hoarse squall went instantly up in pitch to a supersonic shriek. The orgasms ravaging her turned to a state of unyielding, full clench, like they’d stacked upon themselves to produce a single unbearable peak. The glare against his eyelids became impossibly bright, a continuing explosion of horngasm into the receptive lake, like he was inside the heart of a star, with other stars circling and swooping before his eyes as little Yutakana hit her ultimate climax… A hoof cracked him across the skull, and his eyes flew open and he released his fierce grip. “Don’t pull out!” demanded a voice. “Don’t even move! Hold still, don’t speak!” “Aw horseapples, am Ah under arrest?” wailed Big Macintosh. He looked around frantically. The town’s three Kirin were in evidence. They were fat and sleek and seemed to be bursting with energy. He began to realize why. He looked down at the tiny unicorn he held in his forelegs. Yutakana appeared to be smouldering. Her horn seemed partly burned away. Her tongue hung out, and her eyes were rolled back in her head, and he’d never seen such a sated, sex-ravaged unicorn. He glanced around at the angry Kirin. No, not just angry… worried, desperately worried. “She done asked for this,” said Big Macintosh. “She said she had magic that would protect her.” “Yes,” said one of the Kirin curtly. “Us.” There seemed little to add to that. Big Macintosh watched as the Kirin consulted, very rapidly, with flashes of magic between them. “Do NOT pull out. We’ll control that. This may feel strange,” ordered another Kirin. “Yessir,” replied Big Macintosh. “Whatever you need, all you gotta do is ask… aw SWEET Celestia!” The beams of magic locked onto little Yutakana and she shuddered in his forelegs, and immediately he felt her vagina contract and crush his still-hard penis back onto itself. The vise-like grip she’d had before was nothing compared to this. It was agonizing, but he gritted his teeth, because he felt it was possible the magical Kirin were doing it for a reason, and if they could fix her pussy from sex-related damages, they might spare a thought for his dick. One spoke. “There is a thing called a cock ring. Our apologies, our Yutakana is also a cock ring. Don’t tense or swell yourself, and endure it.” “Yessir… eeeeeff! rrrg! whatever ya… arrgh! need!” “Hurts, does it?” “Jes’ a bit!” “So did she,” retorted the Kirin, sweating and concentrating. Big Macintosh fell silent. His lip quivered, even as he winced from the torturous treatment he was receiving. “She LIKED it!” he protested, finally, as his stiffened cock began to emerge from its cramped confines. “It wasn’t for you,” said a Kirin. He glanced at the others, both also males. “We must blame ourselves. But it did not occur to us that so large a horse would come to tempt her.” “Or so unwise,” added another. “The townsponies all know they mustn’t let her push them around,” said the third. “We do blame ourselves. She is headstrong and should only do this when…” He caught the urgent glances of the others. “She should not do this,” concluded the third, blushing slightly. “Naughty Yutakana.” Big Macintosh was blushing as well, but his mouth was a hard line. “That so? Never, huh? Not for the naughty lil’ bitty unicorn?” The first Kirin hesitated, and then said, “It’s private. She’s very important. If it helps, she is normally more well cared for. She is safe. Healing, monitoring, is on hoof for her. You weren’t to know about her ways. We blame ourselves.” Big Macintosh looked truculently back and forth between the sleek, fat Kirin bursting with magic. It didn’t trouble him that he’d laid a wildly promiscuous mare. What troubled him was simpler. “Kin I ask you one thing? An’ then I better go. I think I know enough, fellas. Thanks for th’ warning you din’t give me. I would jes’ like to do one more thing if y’all would be so good.” The Kirin looked at each other. “What thing is this?” said one. “Did ya heal her up? Like, is she fine, other than bein’ stunned outta her silly mind from foolish over-fuckin’?” “We did heal her,” said the Kirin. “Please tell us exactly what you’re proposing to do.” Big Macintosh lifted his chin. “This.” He stepped forward, lifted up the dainty little unicorn’s fevered, trembling body, and gave her a big firm farm-pony hug, tears leaking from his eyes. He nuzzled the side of her cheek, to which she responded with a cute little coo, then a snore. He kissed her, bowing his head. “Thankee, ma’am. Be good. An’ don’t play too rough! Sleep happy, now, and get back to them as understand you best.” The Kirin didn’t say a word as Big Macintosh laid his tiny lover down comfortably on the beach, with great care not to wake her… though from the look and feel of her, it’d take a party cannon to wake her. He rose, looking down on her as she slept. He looked at the three Kirin. “Gentlemen,” said Big Macintosh, and walked solemnly away, leaving them to attend their special little unicorn without him. And he walked with a steady tread all the way back to where they’d made camp, complete with their tent. Vinyl wasn’t in it, but Octavia was, sleeping. And Big Macintosh crawled into his sleeping bag, wrapped it around his head, and gave way to silent, torrential weeping, his massive body shaking almost as fiercely as his tiny lover’s had been. Guilt, desire, longing all tangled within him. Worst of all, he hadn’t even got off, and couldn’t tell for the life of him whether that was good or bad. He sobbed, trying to make no sound, uttering not a word… except for one, anguished, yearning plea that called out toward he knew not where. “Hina…” Braeburn skulked through the dark. He stuck mainly to bushes and natural cover, but the derned country seemed full of lovely little meadows he had to cross. At least they seemed like they must be lovely, even though he could see them only by moonlight. His ear twitched, for the countryside wasn’t entirely empty, even in the darkest night. Hunters of the night were out: he was pretty sure he heard an owl swooping in the distance. Or… maybe not as distant as all th… what the? In a rush of near-silent wings, she was upon him, slamming him to the grass and pinning him down. “Do not try to escape! I will question you, strange sneaking horse!” She was a gray pegasus, with even her eyes a pale gray, though the moonlight did play tricks with his vision. Gasping for breath, Braeburn stammered, “What the buck are you, a pegasus or an owl?” “Yes!” she exulted. “I am Fukuro, the owl warrior, and you are my prisoner!” “If ya say so,” retorted Braeburn, and then blinked. “Say that again? Fuck-uro?” “The owl pegasus warrior!” boasted the grey mare. “Famous for my hunting abilities, which have captured another never-do-well!” “Th’ hell I don’t!” “What?” she said. Braeburn grinned up at her. “Happens I do very well. Very well indeed, Miss Fuck-you’re-sexy. How about I demonstrate?” Straddling him, Fukuro frowned down, her brow wrinkling. “Do you propose to enter captivity by sexually rewarding your captor? Your idea of submission to my authority is pleasuring me? Is that it?” “Yes!” said Braeburn, with conviction. Fukuro squeed. “Yay! Best prisoner all week. Let’s go over to those trees, there’s a bed of soft moss we can use!” Braeburn grinned. “Now you’re talkin’. So, are you gonna let me up? I do my best movin’ with, y’know, freedom of motion. I suppose you kin do that, because it ain’t no use for me to run away as fast as I kin?” Fukuro beamed happily at him. “No use at all! My wings are swift, silent and sure. You cannot escape, so let’s go over there and have some fun and then you can be my prisoner and there’s delicious fermented bean soup for breakfast. Yay, how wonderful I captured you!” Braeburn’s grin didn’t waver, though his ears went back at the Neighponnese mare’s ideas of a good breakfast. “You go on thinkin’ that. I promise I won’t touch them wings, now let me up and I’ll give you a night you won’t soon forget.” “Oh, no!” “What?” said Braeburn. “Don’t skip the wings! That’s the best part!” protested Fukuro. “Why are you so mean?” “Because you probably don’t want no wild cowpony foal,” said Braeburn. “Trust me, I’ve made one. An’ even if she is a gosh dern amazin’ filly, an’ beautiful as the sunrise over the prairie, an’ even more feisty than her moth…” He coughed, for there seemed to be a lump in his throat. “Dammit! I don’t want to tell you no more. Don’t you understand that foolin’ with your wings could make you pregnant? I’m jes’ sayin’ maybe you’d prefer a cowpony ride for the sport of it.” She blinked those big grey eyes. “This is Neighpon. I am a pegasus warrior. The Kirin have taken care of that. Where do you come from, that your pegasus mares can’t enjoy their bodies?” “Ain’t tellin’,” said Braeburn. “Let me get this straight. You want to go over there, to a bed of moss… an’ screw you until you’re a puddle of feathers… AND touch your wings? Are you serious?” “Yes!” replied Fukuro, with conviction. For a moment, Braeburn was speechless. Finally, he said, “I’mma be holdin’ you close with my forelegs, just so’s you understand. By touch your wings, you mean I should open my mouth and do it the way a boy pegasus would make you pregnant? If not for them Kirin, I mean?” “Of course,” said Fukuro. “And then I’ll take you home and we’ll sleep together so it will alert me if you try to escape, and in the morning I’ll make you soup and maybe you can do it all over again, if you’re good.” Braeburn’s ears were back. “Ah don’t believe there’s much argument, ma’am. About me bein’ good, that is. I… huh. Hmph!” “Why do you look so cross?” asked Fukuro. “Is it because you’ve been captured by a girl? Don’t be sad. I am the silent huntress, and none escape me.” “Naw,” said Braeburn. “It jes’ seems like cheatin’, that’s all.” “Huh?” “You ever heard of a Princess, miss Fuckin’-sexy-pony?” said Braeburn. “Is that a thing, to you?” “Isn’t it a kind of pony in Western lands?” Braeburn winced. “That’s as may be. Well… Ah go to my fate now, miss. Just remember, I’m doing this for my Princess.” “I’m sure she will approve of you being a good prisoner,” soothed Fukuro, letting him up. “You keep usin’ that word,” said Braeburn. “C’mon over there. I do believe soon you’ll be callin’ me great.” “Oh, yes!” cooed Fukuro, her wings fluttering in excitement. “Now make love to me nicely, sexy prisoner!” Braeburn straddled her fine, toned rump, and was grateful she couldn’t see the expression on his face. It was one thing to cope with her attitude, behaving as if she was gonna teach him, Braeburn, how to fuck. His ears were well back, while she wasn’t looking. It riled him up more than he could credit. Didn’t she know who he was? But of course, she didn’t. That was part of it. The other part was this: he’d given that pony rump one, just ONE good ol’ mare-settlin’ bite to make her hold still, and the next thing he knew there was a whirl of feathers and a hoof comin’ at him and BAM! He was out cold. When he opened his eyes, Fukuro was right there kissing him, licking the place on his noggin where she’d socked him. But not to say she was sorry, oh no! Instead, she said “Now be a good pony, or I’ll knock you out again and again until you learn or you stop waking up ever again!” He’d gulped. She meant every word. He’d asked, “You still want a fuckin’?” and she’d said, “Now you owe me two.” All righty then. Braeburn straddled her fine, toned rump. One thing about it, he thought: at least it wasn’t no hardship. Maybe it was her unusual level of pegasus fluff, but Fukuro combined healthy fitness with a soft, plushy quality that was incredibly feminine. Her butt was shapely like no pegasus he’d been on since Fluttershy, her winking exposed a silky pinkness that got him going real nice, and apart from the unstallionly weakness he was forced to be in, it looked like a mighty fine evening to be having. Pretending that her quivering readiness was because he’d made her submit, Braeburn pressed his hips forward, and felt his mare shudder in his embrace. This, at least, wasn’t different. He’d always professed that careless fuckin’ was rude and an insult to the name of pleasure, especially when you were hung like such as him… and so, his entry always took it nice and easy. It felt better to all involved. Why get a mare submissive as a puddle, only to splash it and not have a puddle no more? His ears perked, and he warned himself to be careful. Fukuro was no puddle… not yet. He was greeted not with those shakes and the renewed passiveness, that moment of oh-my-gosh where his mare couldn’t quite believe her luck… nope, the owl-pony warrior was more active. With a series of moans, she tensed and bore down on him, only to ease up and allow more of his erection to press into her. “That’s good!” she moaned. “That feels good!” Y’think? thought Braeburn, and then caught himself: he’d been about to deal her a jab, and wasn’t sure if it would get him another hoof to the head. He quickly reconsidered. Logically, what he proposed to do would work just fine even if he was real soft with her, as if she was… Braeburn winced, and put the thought out of his mind, but kept the intention. It was for a good cause. He’d make love to this fluffy pegasus like she was the only pony in the world for him, or at least he’d restrict his range of tricks and leave out everything dominant. He reckoned that when he went to the final stage, it wouldn’t matter. And who knew? Maybe it’d be fun. Fukuro squirmed, panting, as Braeburn slid to full penetration, expertly drawing up short of poking her insides. Her eyes rolled back in her head a little. It was so huge, yet the stallion was so tender with it! Surely he was a great discovery. She gritted her teeth as he tugged half his length out of her in a firm, steady motion, and squeed a little squee of glee as he slid back to fill her completely. “I will keep you forever!” squeed Fukuro. “Don’t forget the wings!” As if, thought Braeburn, and got to work making love like his life depended on it. It sort of did, in a sense: while it was a rare and unusual pleasure to fuck this proud, powerful pegasus mare and feel her wriggling and active underneath him, fucking him back in a way he rarely experienced, he really couldn’t be trapped with her forever. There was good fucking, and then there was the call of his heart, and it would not be denied. All the more since he was channeling his feelings for his beloved Princess into this strange though undeniably sexy mare… he set up an insistent, exploratory motion and nestled his head against her neck, for all the world like she was Big Macintosh, like he longed to feel every heartbeat and savor every quiver. What he got was worth savoring, all the same. “Oh it’s GOOD!” cried out Fukuro, her sweet mare voice a poem of grateful delight. “So good! I love you, sexy prisoner, do it just like that!” He felt her vagina gripping him, but much like his motions it wasn’t with harshness: it really was a new sort of thing, and his ears perked further as he experienced it. He had a healthy respect for the power of the mare pussy and much of his loving dominance routine was geared to making sure she didn’t get bitey in there: Braeburn was comfortable with mares so melted they could barely stand, but he didn’t trust an interplay when it came to fucking. Now, he was forced to accept one, and to his surprise found it good. He moved with a compliant thoughtfulness, sensing how things stood moment by moment: Fukuro melted and accepted him, then got excited and wriggled and bore down to restrict him, only to cry out in pleasure and arch her neck and relax again, to be plumbed to her depths when she was ready for it. It came and went like ocean waves, a whole mighty swelling that was bigger than both of them. Braeburn’s ears quirked extra hard at that thought, but there was no mistaking it. The idea rocked him. On the other hand, Fukuro seemed completely happy with it. She wouldn’t let him become the ocean all by himself, but she let his waves build along with hers, giddy with the ecstacy of it. “I will share you with ALL my friends!” she cried. “YES, wonderful prisoner horse! Yes!” That was interesting, thought Braeburn… but he had only a moment for the thought, because her pussy was powerful and excited and she’d gripped onto him again with a glorious scrunch, and he instinctively understood how to match her ebullient heaving pressure with his own powerful confined shifting: while they were tied into a knot of each other, Braeburn hugged her tighter and used the strength of his hips to get little motions through in spite of her clench. He could feel in the hammering of her loving heart, the bolt erectness of her fluffy wings, that this was ringing all her bells, and as she kept on bearing down, he kept on firmly bearing her up to the orgasmic skies on wings of massive outlaw cowpony horsecock… Braeburn blinked. Wings, y’say? Without switching gears, without altering the tone and feel of his lovemaking in the least, he courteously bent his neck and closed his mouth around the base of Fukuro’s wing. Her eyes flew wide open, and with a convulsive shudder, Fukuro melted away completely, her pussy unclenching as if it had turned to jelly at a stroke and gotten a few inches deeper from sheer willingness. She stared out at the quiet Neighpon night, stunned into awe, a mare volcano on the brink of eruption. “I will share you with all the world…” she vowed, like a prayer. And then, Braeburn began to make love: not at her, but with her, just as he had been doing. His hips did not pound, his cock did not plunge, though from the squelching sounds it seemed like it had: and his jaws did not gnaw or bite controllingly. Instead, the outlaw stallion bent his head and worked his hips and simply rode along, matching the eruption and becoming part of it, a true partner right to the climax. Fukuro squealed breathlessly, her body juddering and shaking: the power of her mare vagina wasn’t directed at fierce clenching anymore. Neither was she melting into a formless puddle inside—to Braeburn, it felt as if mighty forces were thundering around inside her, orgasmic explosions going off, and it was those aftershocks that he felt surging and thumping against his stiffened cock. He, in turn, allowed the energies to buoy him, and as he neared his own climax, his strength spent itself in bold, deep, joyous thrusts, convulsive hugs that strained her body to him, and happy chewing of that fluffy, wriggling wing. Every time he bore down on it, Fukuro melted a little more, but her frenzy also arced higher and her pussy churned harder with exquisite spasms… “NNNghh!” Fukuro’s eyes flew wide in astonishment… and she went totally limp, barely able to stand, as Braeburn chomped down hard and thrust deep, swelling up more than she could believe. And her ears laid back, more and more, her eyes going out of focus, while he held that pose and somehow withheld his release, somehow did not unload even as roaring filled her ears and her orgasms flared up into an impossible eruption that turned her brain into an exploding white-out of pleasure, balanced on that brink with a super-stallion seemingly bursting her delighted pussy with pure rock-like hardness that throbbed inside her even as her body melted down in hyper-fast spasms that accelerated and didn’t stop… “Ghhh!” grunted Braeburn, as his jaws crunched her wing still harder while his own peak finally hit. “EEEEEE!” howled Fukuro, as Braeburn unloaded into her, a stallion cannon-blast. She reeled, her mind a confetti of orgasmic sensations, and she staggered but it seemed he was right there with her, and she spasmed and wailed incoherently and it seemed to go on and on, because even after he’d drenched her with stallion-come, it was like he didn’t let up, like he was keeping himself hard and continuing to move in there and wrench her wing lovingly around… and it did feel loving, and that kept her going and going, the moment persisting longer than she could even imagine, her orgasms stretching on and on, and even when her body tired, the stallion teeth giving her wing a thorough work-over couldn’t let her rest, and even when her churns and spasms gave way to feeble twitches the horsecock held mostly firm somehow and her lover persisted, now matching her energy level but carrying her now, the tender gnawings and gentle nudges sustaining her for just one… more… moment… Braeburn loosened his jaws, panting. The frizzled-out pegasus wing between his teeth flopped bonelessly to the bed of moss beneath them. It sure was soft. That seemed… good. He got up, and gazed down at his victory. Fukuro lay, tongue hanging out, a foolish and huge grin on her face, her eyes staring at nothing. She blinked, or tried to, and her eyelid moved at about half speed, and then wouldn’t lift back up, and she peered sort of near him, from sultry, heavily-lidded eyes. “How… ‘bout a bargain,” panted Braeburn. “Never mind all the world… you’re gonna give me to jes’ one special somepony. And he ain’t here. But I’m gonna find him.” Fukuro tried to twitch an ear. Nothing happened. A breeze passed over her, and she quivered from one more orgasm, and melted even more thoroughly into the soft moss. Then she felt something else… the prisoner, except he obviously wasn’t going to remain her prisoner, was bending over her. And she emitted little squeaks and coos, involuntary cries, as he adjusted her boneless sprawl to be more comfortable. Were those tears in his eyes? He looked happy and sad at the same time. She orgasmed five times as he straightened and settled her wings. It would have been twice, except he tried to preen her feathers. He was terrible at it, and by the time he stopped, she knew the only other thing she’d be able to do that night was sleep. She fought to keep her eyes even half-open, though she no longer knew what she wanted to do about him: it was enough just to continue seeing him for a few more seconds. Braeburn bent to gaze into her dreamy eyes, and his own did glisten a little. “Ah learned somethin’,” he told her. “Thank you.” He kissed her nose, and her eyes slowly sagged and closed, and the last thing she saw was his sad, brave, romantic smile.
Two By Two“That was AWESOME!” squeed Rainbow Dash. Flight Lightning rolled her eyes, grinning. “I think we’ve got a new secret weapon, Dash. Sweetie Belle, how did you think of all that stuff?” “Please, be quieter!” begged Sweetie. “I’ll tell you if you just don’t make so much noise, okay?” The four ponies lurked in a little wooded valley, a nook among the tastefully sculpted hillsides that seemed somewhat overlooked. Perhaps it was just the way the trees formed picturesque horizons all around it, but their refuge seemed positively strange for its relative un-groomedness. The ponies who’d made all of Neighpon an exquisite garden, had skipped this part. Scootaloo, hugging Sweetie, glared at her mom and her idol, respectively. “Yeah, since when did the kids have to be grown-ups and the grownups turn into kids? What’s the big deal?” Rainbow Dash reached over and tousled Scootaloo’s mane. “Since we got to know how awesome you and Sweetie really are, that’s when. Kid, my ass… you’re a full-on part of the team… ‘kid’.” Scootaloo made a little subdued whinny of delight, then controlled herself. “Well then, my question stands. Sweetie says this place is dangerous. Why are you goofing around?” “We’re dangerous too,” boasted Rainbow Dash. “And completely badass. Holy crap, Scootaloo, I was carrying Sweetie on my back all this time and how come I never knew she had, like, the squeak of death?” Scootaloo winced, as Sweetie blushed scarlet. “Maybe you just didn’t catch her at the right moment!” griped the pegasus filly. “I didn’t know it would work, but we were desperate. Do you think it KILLED those ponies? That’s horrible!” Already scarlet, Sweetie Belle burst into overwhelmed tears, and both adult ponies turned to helping Scootaloo comfort her. “There, there, kiddo,” soothed Rainbow Dash. “Of course it didn’t. Who said that? It’s just like the flower ponies, you know? You didn’t hurt them. You just made them fall over.” “Something else,” said Flight Lightning, sternly. “Settle down, girls! I understand this is very exciting, but it’s only a different country. Ponies are ponies everywhere you go, and I don’t want you making up stories and behaving like this is some crazy dangerous place. It can’t be that bad. Now that we’re somewhere that we can talk, I’d like to hear more about how Sweetie knows all these things. You were right about the monster costume, Sweetie, and that’s amazing. How did you know it would be there?” Sweetie sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of a hoof. “Haven’t you read about Neighpon?” Three pegasi looked at each other. “Flying’s more my jam,” said Rainbow Dash, as Flight Lightning nodded. “How about you pretend we’ve never read about Neighpon? I mean, one of the Daring Do books was in Neighpon, but I figured that was all bullshit. I mean, awesome and exciting and my favorite, but you know they’re stories, right? They don’t really have insane pegasus warriors. They’re ponies like us, right Flight Lightning?” “Let her answer,” advised Flight Lightning. Sweetie sniffled again. “No, they do. I never read that Daring Do book, but it’s real. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” Dash’s eyes widened. “Maybe you should tell us again, then,” she said. “What exactly have we gotten ourselves into, here?” Flight Lightning’s eyes narrowed. “Sweetie Belle? How come you’re shaking? Out with it, now!” Her jaw dropped, as did Dash’s. Sweetie crumbled where she stood, curling into a little ball of trembling filly, and Scootaloo wrapped herself around her fillyfriend faithfully and glared at the adults. “NOT helping!” “Oh be quiet Scootaloo be quiet please please quiet!” begged Sweetie, almost incoherently. Dash and Flight Lightning exchanged a glance, and then they settled to the ground to either side of the younger ponies, secluded in the little wooded valley, and they were quiet. Just little fluffy rustlings of feathers joined the sound of breezes through the trees, as Flight Lightning cuddled the side of Scootaloo not already wrapped around Sweetie Belle. Dash didn’t do likewise for Sweetie, but Scootaloo was making up for it, not even caring who saw her snuggling Sweetie with her small orange wings. “We’re quiet,” whispered Rainbow Dash, after a few minutes spent undisturbed. “We can stay quiet. Nothing’s happening, Sweetie Belle.” Sweetie nodded miserably. “Can you tell us what’s so frightening?” asked Dash. “I feel like you skipped telling us something.” “What’s out there?” asked Scootaloo, concerned. “It must be really bad.” Sweetie shuddered, looking haunted. “Is it the Kirin?” asked Dash. “That’s the only thing I can think of, that’s so powerful it would scare you this much. And that’s crazy, I’ve seen a Kirin and she was a little cutie. Nice though she was a bit weird. Are you frightened of the Kirin, Sweetie Belle?” “No,” said Sweetie. “Ask yourself how come they need Kirin that much?” The other ponies fell silent, frowning. “I don’t know whether I’m more frightened of the monsters or the pegasi,” said Sweetie Belle softly. “In some ways I’m more scared of the unicorns. Because I know there must be some, but they’re not talked about at all, not since their attack on the Kirin. I wonder if the ponies here will think I’m an evil unicorn coming to take over. But they do know what to do about that.” She shivered. Dash wrinkled her brow. “Okay, let me get this straight. You’re scared of monsters here. You’re also scared of the pegasi, and maybe even more scared of the unicorns. And you’re a unicorn, and we’re pegasi.” “Not like them,” mumbled Sweetie Belle. “We’re just not like them.” “Whatever,” said Dash. “And yet you rode on my back all the way to Neighpon without a word of complaint, and only now that you’re freakin’ out do we start hearing about this. Never mind the stories, you can tell us those next. Sweetie, why did you even come here?” Sweetie Belle said nothing. She just stuck out her lower lip petulantly… and clung to Scootaloo. Who blushed brighter and brighter, hugging back, understanding that the little unicorn had gone far into what she considered harm’s way simply because her mate was doing likewise. Sweetie’s bravery hadn’t been obvious when surrounded by giddy pegasus excitement and adventure. It was only now that they learned how courageous she had been. “Start from the beginning,” urged Flight Lightning. “We’re here for ya. Tell us about these monsters, Sweetie Belle. Where did you hear about that stuff?” “I told you, I read,” said Sweetie. “Twilight Sparkle let me come read in her library, and even Princess Celestia let me go visit her library. There isn’t that much about Neighpon, but it was really exciting and mysterious. I read everything I could find. Princess Celestia said she knew one of the writers personally…” “The monsters, Sweetie,” said Flight Lightning. “What are we dealing with here?” Sweetie Belle gave a sigh. “But that’s just it. It’s not even the dragons, you know.” “We can beat dragons,” vowed Rainbow Dash. “You better believe it.” “Fluttershy can tame dragons,” suggested Scootaloo. “We don’t need Fluttershy to deal with dragons,” said Dash. “We’re dressed up as a dragon,” pointed out Flight Lightning. “I mean, when we fly around in that costume. The one you stole, Sweetie Belle.” “It’s not about the dragons!” protested Sweetie. “And I only spotted it, when we got to Neighpon and Rainbow said we should have a special disguise. They have to dress up like dragons. You took it off the clothes-line yourself!” “Hey!” said Scootaloo. “I helped! ‘Cause Rainbow Dash was right, we ought to have a special disguise. Why do they even have dragon costumes around anyway?” Rainbow Dash scratched her head. “Twilight did say they got up to kinky stuff. It must be that. What else?” “I’m trying to tell you,” said Sweetie, “and please keep your voices down! It’s so scary to be here.” “Fine,” said Dash, and whispered, “So what else?” “The ponies of Neighpon are great warriors,” said Sweetie Belle. “Yeah well I’M a…” “No, shh!” urged Sweetie. “It’s all because they haven’t got enough monsters and stuff to fight. They have to dress up like dragons to have any, that’s why they have costumes. Also, they have way fewer pegasi and unicorns than us, something about preserving the great tapestry of natural ponies. Kirin have something to do with it. They’re like trainers. It’s like they don’t let unicorns and pegasi happen except when they’re just naturally born, but then they make a big fuss about it…” Flight Lightning frowned. “That’s different. Kirin are against pegasi? If I knew that when the Kirin visited Ponyville, I’d have given her a piece of my mind about it.” “You mean a piece of your hoof,” smirked Dash. “You hit me first, Dash,” retorted Flight Lightning, “and anyway never mind, I’m sorry and that’s long over. Tell us more, Sweetie Belle. They don’t want pegasi? What do they do with ‘em? This sounds bad, and it sure has you scared. Do you think they’re gonna hurt you because you’re a unicorn? Are we, like, not allowed?” “It’s not that,” said Sweetie, and looked perplexed. “I don’t think it is. They… want to treat us like we’re more special? It’s weird. You’d think they would just help ponies get along, but they want unicorns and pegasi only to happen by accident… but then, when they do, it’s a big deal and they celebrate it a lot. But it’s in this creepy way…” Scootaloo poked her with a hoof. “Maybe it’s just because we aren’t Neighponnese? Explain, Sweetie. What do they do? Start with the pegasi. It sounds like you know more about their pegasi.” Sweetie nodded. “Their pegasi are, like, the next best thing to Kirin. I told you, they’re warriors. They go away and train for battle, it’s all they do.” “Wow. Battling each other?” said Dash. “No. Yes,” said Sweetie Belle. “Kind of. I really didn’t understand that part.” Dash, Flight and Scootaloo glanced at each other. “We’re all pegasi, Sweetie,” said Dash. “What’s ‘no yes’, and what do they battle? You just got our attention, bigtime. Do they attack other pegasi, like us?” “I think they just train so hard that they get kind of crazy,” said Sweetie. “The Kirin teach them to be protectors of ponies when the Kirin aren’t around. Maybe even when they are? I don’t know what the unicorns do, I just know about the evil unicorn cabal that tried to take over. That was a whole age… they call them Ages of Neighpon, and that was the Age of Sorrow. I don’t know if they like unicorns much. They don’t seem to take the unicorns away, the naturally born unicorns I mean.” “Hey,” said Scootaloo, cuddling her. “Any way unicorns get born is okay by me.” “Keep going,” said Flight Lightning sternly. “They train these pegasi for battle, and then what?” “They do it when they haven’t got monsters and stuff to fight. Demons,” said Sweetie. “Pink demons?” asked Rainbow Dash. “Huh?” “One of those ponies was yelling about pink demons coming back,” said Dash. “Are they supposed to fight pink demons?” Sweetie looked puzzled. “I don’t think I saw anything about pink demons in all the old books I read. Are you sure you heard that right?” “They train for battle,” repeated Flight Lightning, “and then what? They fight monsters, and?” Sweetie looked sick. “If they can’t fight monsters the Kirin let them fight each other because they’re so nuts for fighting. They wiped out all the bad monsters. One pegasus would take on a dragon like it was nothing. It wouldn’t matter if they got killed or terribly injured because they just wanted to fight the biggest enemy, you know? I think the Kirin encouraged them, but in the Age of Despair it got bad and the pegasi took to attacking regular ponies and demanding tribute.” “Their Ages kinda suck, you know that?” said Dash. Sweetie shook her head. “They’re in the Age of Bountiful Joy now, so I guess they got better. But the Kirin dealt with the pegasi taking over by getting them to fight each other.” “Explain that,” said Flight Lightning. “I thought Kirin were supposed to be good and nice. How did they do that?” “That’s why I’m so scared of them,” said Sweetie. “They didn’t really ever get the pegasi to be nice again. Instead, they told the pegasi they could rule pony towns if they ruled justly, but there weren’t enough pony towns to go around. So the Kirin made the pegasi fight for it. It became a tradition, what they call a martial art? They don’t bother ruling towns anymore, but the ponies make a fuss over the pegasi just as if they did. The Kirin run the towns, with the regular ponies, and the pegasi practice being warriors and they’re ready in case anything attacks Neighpon. They will all die to defend Neighpon, and they’re super fierce and tough, and they still duel sometimes, the book said.” “How do they duel?” asked Scootaloo. “I shouldn’t tell you,” mumbled Sweetie Belle. “Now you gotta,” ordered Flight Lightning. “How do they duel?” “They can fly incredibly fast, until the sky rips and breaks…” “Me too,” said Dash, “it’s called a sonic rainboom. Flight can really haul ass too. And?” “And they fly directly into each other at full speed,” said Sweetie, “and try to kick out just right at the last possible instant.” “Hoof to the head?” marvelled Dash. “That’s nuts!” “They go for the wings,” said Sweetie Belle. All three pegasi cringed in unison. “They WHAT?” said Dash. “That’s the martial art,” explained Sweetie. “There’s a special rank the Kirin set up. The regular townsponies are taught that a pegasus with one wing is as honorable as one injured fighting a dragon… like it doesn’t matter how they get wrecked, they’re to be celebrated. I guess it’s better than the townsponies killing a wounded pegasus, which is what they were starting to do in the Age of Despair? The Kirin made them the guardians of the towns but then they got the townsponies to take special care of pegasus injured in battle, like so maimed their wings were gone. I guess the pegasi bought it? They’re also the only ones who get to teach martial arts to other pegasi…” Dash, Flight and Scootaloo still looked appalled. “Does that make ‘em feel better about it?” asked Scootaloo. “I guess. So, they’re crazy warriors,” said Sweetie, “and they can beat a dragon or any kind of monster, and they fly into each other with flailing hooves to try and rip off each others’ wings, just for fun. Do you see why I’m more scared of the pegasi here than the monsters?” Flight Lightning, eyes narrowed, regarded Sweetie. “This is out of history books? Sounds like bad times. How do you know they still do all this?” Sweetie pouted. “I guess I don’t. The book said it was all true, though. If you see one-winged pegasi it must be true.” “We haven’t,” Flight Lightning pointed out. “It’s just stories out of a book.” “If they find out we’re here,” said Sweetie petulantly, “and they fly into you incredibly fast and kick your wing off screaming a battle cry, it will be too late to tell you to be careful.” The pegasi cringed again, but all three looked determined. “NOT happening,” said Rainbow Dash. “I can outfly any Neighponnese pegasus. They have a martial art that’s pegasus against pegasus?” Sweetie pouted. “Works on unicorns, too. And earth ponies. We have legs, you know.” “Well, we have a disguise!” said Scootaloo. “We have a dragon suit. I know it does kinda look just like a big flying worm but it has a dragony head on it! We can hide your legs in that, all you have to do is squeak.” “Me and Dash can get it to move like lightning!” said Flight Lightning. She grinned at Rainbow Dash. “Well, half Lightning and half Dash?” “Adds up to one totally awesome!” said Scootaloo, loyally. “Nope! About half,” said Dash, “because it’s cumbersome. So what else have we got? I can do hoof to hoof combat, maybe not trained by a Kirin but I can do it.” “So can I,” said Flight Lightning, and winced. “As you know!” “Yeah,” said Dash thoughtfully, “but… not in a big monster costume. I think we need to make more of a plan. Sweetie has those weaponized squeaks…” “I don’t want to hurt anypony!” wailed Sweetie. “Now who’s noisy?” said Scootaloo. “I’m sorry!” whispered Sweetie. “I don’t want to hurt anypony. I’m not gonna do it if it hurts ponies, I don’t even care.” “It won’t,” promised Flight Lightning. “They’re just falling over. Like the flower ponies. Ponies are the same all over.” Dash was frowning. “Except when they aren’t. Hey, Flight? You still got that hoof-to-hoof thing goin’ on? If Sweetie’s right, we could end up duking it out with a Neighponnese pegasus. Are you up for that?” “I doubt it’ll be as extreme as she says, but yeah, if we get jumped I won’t go down without a fight. But you’re missing something, Dash. Anyone attacking us has to get through that crazy costume! There’s padding. You know it’s kind of heavy.” “We jump out and kick the hell out of the attacking pegasus samurai!” boasted Dash. “Like, fling off the disguise and YAAA!” “NOW who’s noisy?” griped Scootaloo, as Sweetie clung to her in a panic. “Dash?” said Flight Lightning. “Yeah?” “Sweetie Belle’s in that costume. And she can’t fly. Great plan, dude, A plus. How about you think of something else?” Dash subsided. “Oh. Yeah. Um…” “I think I could squeak even louder if it was a scary warrior pegasus attacking us,” said Sweetie hesitantly. Scootaloo set her jaw. “You need hoof to hoof combat, huh?” “We have to consider the possibility,” said Dash grimly. “And your mom’s right: we can’t fight and fly in the costume at the same time. We could work out how to get down to the ground in a hurry, and split up, and Sweetie can… try to hide under the costume? I don’t know, kid, we’re in a big fog here. You got anything?” “You know, I think I just might,” said Scootaloo grimly. “Mom? Throw me at the attacker.” “Like hell,” retorted Flight Lightning. “No, listen! When I won the Ponyville dance contest it was with these wild moves. You know, you KNOW I’ve always had a lot of dexterity. It’s kind of my thing. And I can totally fly well enough to guide myself, and unlike Sweetie Belle, if I fall from way up, I’ll get down without hitting too hard. You know I can pull off a glide which isn’t all that steep. Give me one shot.” “To do what?” said Rainbow Dash. Scootaloo’s eye glinted. “If some pegasus warrior is attacking us… and Sweetie? I’m gonna do those moves again, but to HIT instead of to miss. I don’t care how fast they are, I’m faster, and I’ll knock them the fuck out. End of problem. You can meet me back on the ground and we’ll fly out of there.” “You’re going to fly out of the mouth of the dragon, and beat up pegasi warriors?” said Flight Lightning, skeptically. “That’s the plan?” “She is orange!” quipped Rainbow Dash. “They’ll think she’s a dragon flame. I was at that dance contest, I saw her. It could work. Scootaloo, that’s an interesting suggestion, and I believe you about protecting Sweetie Belle. It makes sense in a stupid way. I’ll go along with it on one condition.” “What?” said Scootaloo. “Show me,” replied Dash, with an evil grin. She scuffed the dirt with a forehoof. “Oh, come the fuck on, Dash,” said Flight Lightning. “Scootaloo?” said Sweetie Belle. The grin on Dash’s face spread… to Scootaloo’s. Their eyes locked, and didn’t waver. Scootaloo got to her hooves, shaking out one foreleg, then the other. “Oh, Scootaloo, don’t!” pleaded Sweetie Belle. “It’ll be okay, you don’t have to!” “You do,” corrected Rainbow Dash, “you totally do. Come on. Show me. I dare ya. We need to know. Come ON! I bet you c…” They didn’t even see Scootaloo move. One moment, she was standing poised and tense, eyes locked utterly on Dash, and then she was a whirl of a blur, little orange limbs spinning with alarming velocity in a sort of kamikaze cartwheel. In that fraction of a second, Rainbow Dash reacted with Dashian speed, trying to gauge where the little orange hoofs were coming from, her adrenaline up, holding nothing back with her own blue hooves flashing out to intercept the incoming blows. Failing. Sweetie squealed, in spite of herself. Flight Lightning yelled. The blur came to rest well past Rainbow Dash, panting. Dash’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she toppled with a flail of cerulean wings, collapsing. Scootaloo had hit her three times in less than half a second, twice in the head. “What the FUCK, kid?” yelled Flight Lightning. “What have you done?” Scootaloo trembled, fighting for breath. “It’s okay! Give me a moment… I’m sure I gauged it right! I think I’d have to go harder if it was an earth pony, but that ought to work for another pegasus…” “It doesn’t WORK at all!” yelled Flight Lightning. “You are so grounded. We’re going home! Except that’s dumb, never mind, we’re going to go find some Neighponnese ponies and take Rainbow to the hospital! Or whatever they have here, do they have pony hospitals, Sweetie? Holy shit, kid! Not okay! Bad pony!” “It’s important!” yelled Scootaloo. “She told me to do it! I had to prove what I said!” “She’s an idiot!” replied Flight Lightning. “And so are you! You don’t get to take chances like that. Not when Sweetie depends on riding Dash to get around! And since when do you hit your big damn hero Rainbow Dash?” One ruby eye cracked open. “When she can do it right,” rasped Dash. She was promptly mobbed by two fillies, and then one truly pissed off pegasus Mom, all hugging and comforting her. “Ow, ow ow!” moaned Dash. “No more demonstrations! You made your point. Ow! I’m OK, I’m totally OK, don’t jostle me, ow! Fuck! Why’d you have to go for the head?” “What else could I do?” said Scootaloo. “Yeah, least useful part,” said Flight Lightning. “For fuck’s sake, Dash. Don’t be fucking stupid again, okay?” The harshness of her words was belied by her hoof gently stroking Dash’s mane, exploring Rainbow’s skull for signs of damage. “Yaaa! Cut it out, I’m fine!” wailed Dash. “And really, Scoots? You go for me with the most disabling attack? Point made, okay? You’re our new karate weapon, we fling you at enemies and you boot ‘em in the head and then we gather you back into the suit. It’s a brilliant plan and there’s nothing ridiculous about dragon monsters puking violent pegasus fillies at enemies. Or if there is, that’s ponies for ya. Never mind, it’ll work. WHAT?” Scootaloo pouted, for she’d been trying to get a word in. “It wasn’t.” “Huh?” “You said the most disabling attack. I didn’t, I kicked you in the head twice.” “That’s not your best?” “If some pegasus warrior comes to hurt Sweetie,” said Scootaloo, “I’m gonna kick their wing off. Don’t you think I could get through any block they had? I think so. And then,” she said, and gulped, “they can go off and be important teachers of warriors. ‘Cos we’re gonna keep their wing as a trophy!” Dash and Flight Lightning gagged. Sweetie’s adoring eyes were worried. “Scoot,” said Flight Lightning, “no! Just no. Calm down. Nopony’s gonna hurt anypony. We’re just going to find Braeburn. Your Dad, remember? What would he think if he heard you talking that way?” Shared pause. “Bad example,” said Flight Lightning, “never mind. Think of ME, and remember ponies are always ponies. We’ll be fine.” Sweetie gulped, apparently unconvinced. Dash studied her. “You really think the pegasus warriors are that badass here, Sweetie? It’s not pretty. Ugh! Scootaloo, if things get that heavy, we’re going to have some explaining to do when we get home. On the other hand, I just got a little more certain that we WILL get home. Let’s figure out where we’ll go next.” Sweetie Belle’s lip quivered. “I would kinda rather believe that Flight Lightning is right about this. But you took me seriously… Rainbow Dash, you also think we’re going to need that kind of ferocity?” Dash’s glance went from her, to Scootaloo’s truculent glare, back to Sweetie again. “Well,” said Dash, “we got it.” “Eenope,” said Big Macintosh, gently. The Neighponnese earth pony mare stuck out her lower lip. “Really? Curse! Are you sure? I thought all traveling musicians were wildly promiscuous.” “Don’t need that much practice,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah’m just wondering if you heard of a Kirin name of Hina-rin?” Her eyes widened. “They’re not replacing Mangekyo-sama? Say they are not! She has come a long way and we all support her, why do you think I am wanting to mate with you when you’re strange but still obviously a pony of some sort?” “Beg pardon?” “You don’t know about our village? I suppose we should be grateful for that. Ponies are so judgemental at times! It is sad that the creativity of our Kirin must be stifled. Even if she did allow some things that maybe weren’t the best.” “Ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah got no idea what you’re talkin’ about. For today I’m gonna respectfully dee-cline your perty favors, but what th’ heck do you mean, I’m a pony of some sort? Course I am!” “We like your type,” said the mare with a wink. “You’re different. You really don’t know about our village? I thought everypony did. Will it help you be attracted to me if I tell you?” “It might help me understand what you’re talkin’ about!” “We like differentness,” explained the mare. “Here, status is having a family with much differentness. Mangekyo-sama helped our village be more different than any other, until the other Kirin made her stop.” She pouted. “Go on…” “It’s most unfair! Curse Fuwafuwa, anyway, I would have rivalled her for certain if Mangekyo-sama had been allowed to continue! She was almost ready to help me love the daioukia, I’d spent months and months persuading her. It would have been amazing and brought me great importance among my peers and I had even arranged for the special pool…” Big Macintosh blinked. “Beggin’ your pardon, but ya lost me. Dai-what-a?” The mare blinked cutely at him. “Daioukia. You know! The giant squid.” Had he been drinking, Big Macintosh would have spit it. “Jes’ a moment. You were gonna have your Kirin help you screw a giant SQUID?” “Where do you think sea ponies come from?” replied the mare. “Except I would be mother to a whole new species of giant sea ponies. With lovely tentacles! It’s SO unfair that Mangekyo-sama gave all that up.” Big Macintosh was backing tactfully away from his cute but alarming companion. “Uhh… ma’am, ponies don’t work that way. Far as I know.” She pouted. “Don’t be foolish! Why, Fuwafuwa mated an owl with her help! It turned into a giant owl, and just as she’d hoped, she birthed a pegasus with special wings, silent as midnight. She grew up to be a great warrior, her name was Fukuro. But I didn’t get to birth my giant tentacled sea pony baby, which is completely unfair!” Big Macintosh’s eyes were wide. “Um… you aren’t thinkin’ I got some tentacle for a dick, are ya?” “I’ll make do,” said the mare. “You’re so different! It’s not like the old days, but you are still the differentest pony to come here in years!” “Ain’t this kinda… strange and creepy?” “No, creepy was Kasukana, who mated a snail. When that family heard the Kirin were changing our village they fled across the sea. I only want my giant squid, but you’ll do.” Big Macintosh kept his distance. The mare was so cheerful, but the tale she told just kept getting more alarming. Perhaps that was why the other Kirin had talked some sense into their Kirin, Mangekyo-sama. “Is it… normal? For all y’alls Kirin to git up to such creepy experimentin’? That seems like a pow’ful tough thing to do, crossin’ mares with squids and owls and such.” “It keeps things interesting!” scoffed the mare. “Now come on. Come and play and give me a giant red horse foal! We have so few chances to be different anymore.” “Is that what ya need?” asked Big Macintosh. “Bein’ different?” The mare hesitated… and sagged. “No. The other Kirin taught us that. It’s not really necessary. Mangekyo-sama indulged us. They say it started when huge dragons plagued the land, and she bred a kind of pony whose front half was that of a giant raptor bird… they were all lost battling the dragons. You can see in the costumes of our pegasi, the stylized beaks and claws. They can’t equal the hippogriffs, but the hippogriffs couldn’t live. Their hearts gave out.” She sighed. “Romancin’?” said Big Macintosh, uncertainly. “They were three times as fast and powerful as a pegasus,” replied the mare, “with only a pony heart. They say Mangekyo-sama cried for months when she realized what she’d done, but she had to continue until the dragons were destroyed. The hippogriffs went willingly to their deaths, because they lived to defend the village and they loved us. Ever after, ponies have tried to live up to their heroism. Mangekyo-sama will never help another mare birth a hippogriff.” “What about the one with the owl?” “Not the same,” said the mare. “Only a little bit swifter than a pegasus. There is no need for such measures now. In truth this is why Mangekyo-sama had to repent of her ways and won’t help me make a giant squidpony: our village once knew and loved the hippogriffs, and we never stopped bugging her and suggesting other experiments. Stupid Fuwafuwa! Though in fairness, Fukuro was the most adorable snuggly owl-pegasus-filly you could possibly imagine. Maybe that’s how she persuaded dear Mangekyo-sama? Adorableness?” She looked quizzically at Big Macintosh, who blinked and said, “Dunno.” “What bothers you, giant red horse?” she said. “You’ve backed up against the wall. If you really don’t want to mate me, I won’t press you. You’re acting like we are disturbing, and our village is famed for its glorious history.” Big Macintosh scuffed a hoof on the floor. “Ah’m sorry. I’m bein’ rude, and I don’t even know your name…” “Kai,” she said. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to make you upset. You can come closer, you look like you’re about to gallop away as fast as you can!” “Ah am,” he said. “Gotta set up for th’ gig. It’s not on your account, ma’am. It’s just…” “What?” “Don’t you think,” said Big Macintosh, “that’s a lot of playin’ with the lives of ponies? Is that what Kirin do? What they’re s’posed to do? I’m jes’ askin’.” Kai’s eyes twinkled. “Are there no Kirin where you come from? Mangekyo-sama may be over-eager to indulge our dreams, but healing the lives of ponies is what Kirin are for.” “Um.” She blinked. “I’m sorry? Why does that distress you? Do you not believe me?” “Naw,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens Ah do…” She carried on, as if conveying a great gossipy secret. “You would be surprised! Why, I have heard stories of a unicorn mare in a town to the south. This mare grew up tiny, uncommonly so, but all the same she became sexually mature and wished to make love with stallions…” “Uhh…” said Big Macintosh, starting to blush under his red hide. “Of course, she was far too tiny! Stallions hurt her terribly. Now if it was THIS town, our Mangekyo-sama would set her up with some nice chipmunk or squirrel and be done with it, but no! They say our Mangekyo-sama was foolhardy, but listen! That town’s Kirin thought they would be clever. And so they kept an eye on her, but they changed her mind so that intercourse pain was turned to pleasure, so she could sleep with her pick of stallions! They thought all they had to do was warn the stallions not to be rough with her, and she would be okay so long as they checked up on her now and then. What? You were saying something?” “Go on…” said Big Macintosh, his eyes wide. Kai nodded wisely. “Of course it didn’t end well. Yes, it was asking a lot of the stallions, but they had overlooked one thing: herself! The foolish mare began wrecking herself with constant intercourse. They couldn’t just put her back after all that trouble, plus it would be a cruel act to deprive her of that gift, but she ran wild and sought stronger and stronger matings until her life was regularly endangered! And eventually, the Kirin sort of took her away. They say she is allowed to go back to town on special occasions. And they can say what they like of our beloved Mangekyo-sama, but you know what else they say? They say the Kirin of that town are never short of magic.” Big Macintosh gulped, remembering a night-time fireworks display… over a lake his partner knew would be needed. And he remembered what he’d done, and the anger and alarm of the Kirin who had rushed to the scene, healing magic at the ready… “Ponies find ways to adapt to just about anything,” said Kai. “Hey… hey! Where are you going!” “…gotta set up th’ gig!” cried Big Macintosh, and galloped off. She pouted. “Hmph! Well, there’s always good old dreams of squid…”
ChiaroscuroAt the edge of the clearing, near the outskirts of town, a lovely grey mare with green eyes and sandy mane and tail walked out into the sunlight. She blinked, her ears quirking back in surprise. Not at an unexpected sound… but an unexpected absence of sound. She glanced back. “Daitana,” called Kichona, “I am aware that you adore my hindquarters. But please admire them up close, not hiding in the woods! We have arrived at another village, further north!” From the treeline, a Kirin lurked fretfully. “Perhaps we can go around?” Kichona didn’t stamp her hoof, for she was nearly as solicitous as a Kirin of all forms of life. But she did poke out her lower lip in an outrageous pout. “And why would we do that, beloved?” Daitana skulked forward, out into the open. “I have almost no magic. What if they require my services? I am ashamed, for I cannot help anypony.” She kissed him, sweetly. “Nonsense. You are beautiful, and wise, and if you don’t wish to guzzle magic from overstuffed unicorns there is no reason you should. We’ll find another Kirin and they will share their magic with you in the way you prefer.” “How can you say that?” protested Daitana. “The more time I spend with you, the less I wish to pleasure our country’s unicorns and consume their magic. It is no small matter to refuse this fate. How can you make it seem so simple? The other Kirin will be upset with me!” Kichona gave him a lovingly exasperated look. “No, they won’t. They’ll love you, as I do.” He pawed the ground anxiously with an elegant cloven hoof, until she raised her own hoof and gently touched his foreleg to remind him. He blushed. He mumbled, “They will know I am resisting my duty.” “Don’t think about it,” soothed Kichona. Her ear quirked again. “Now, come with me into this nice village, and we will… what in Neighpon?” A sound impended. At first quiet, like a desultory tearing of cloth, it expanded suddenly in loudness and was upon them. With it came a brick-red streak in the air, and a dopplering exultant scream. The streak formed two loop-de-loops, almost faster than the eye could follow, and then terminated with a wild gust of wind directly before Kichona and Daitana, and revealed itself as a Neighponnese pegasus warrior. “I am the great Moeru!” he proclaimed, in a silky and boastful voice. “Have you seen my quarry?” Daitana and Kichona blinked at each other. The warrior grinned happily at them, not even tired from his rambunctious flying shenanigans. He was a brick red in color, slight of build but strong of wing muscles, and his mane was a riot of sky blue and spring green shades. He wore a rather skimpy costume, still angular, but tailored to expose quite a lot of his rump. His eyes were such a pale blue as to appear almost white, and he repeated, “I am the great Moeru! And you are, master?” “Oh!” said Daitana. “Daitana. I am Daitana.” “It is an honor to greet you, Daitana-san,” said Moeru, still grinning but bowing his head a little. “I ask again, have you seen my quarry?” “I beg your pardon?” said Kichona, politely. Moeru glanced at her for the first time. “My quarry! I am hunting the Sneaking Spy! Haven’t you heard of the Sneaking Spy?” “No, I haven’t,” she said. “Are they dangerous?” The slim pegasus warrior glanced again at Daitana, but answered her. “Not as dangerous as I! I, the great Moeru, will protect you! It is both my delight and my duty.” “Oh, thank you,” said Kichona, and prodded Daitana. “Isn’t that nice, dear?” “Oh, yes!” said Daitana. “I’m sure you will do a wonderful job, Great Moeru. We are fine here, there are no sneaking spies here. We are just enjoying a journey, ah, north. To find some traveling musicians.” Moeru blinked. “You speak so informally, Kirin! Traveling musicians? Local ones? What sort?” “Why,” said Kichona, “do you love music as we do? We could go together to hear them.” The pegasus warrior shook his head. Beads, braided into his riotous mane, rattled. “No. I mean, it’s all right, but I must get back to my search. I just wondered if that’s who the other two Kirin were hunting for.” Daitana backed up a pace, instinctively. Kichona shot him a steadying glance, and said, “Kirin are hunting for somepony?” “The Sneaking Spy!” proclaimed Moeru. “I will find that spy for them!” “Did they seem worried?” asked Daitana. “Which Kirin, exactly? Did they say any more, or describe this spy, say what sort of creature it is? Not that it would be anything like a rogue Kirin who won’t do his duty! I’m just asking.” Moeru gawked at him. “You are a weird Kirin, Daitana-san!” Daitana gulped, and frantically tried to summon up Kirin formality. “Ahh… the cherry blossoms, sprinkling down from the treetops, reveal no secrets. Duty is a joy, and we all understand it, especially me. Uhh… what sort of spying, troubles the Neighponnese hills, and what does it look… like?” Moeru boggled at him, and then shrugged. “They didn’t say. It was the Kirin from near where I live, south of here. They are from the pirate town Kabochaebi.” He sighed wistfully. “Ah, Kabochaebi.” “I am sure you’ll win,” said Daitana, formally. “You will find your Sneaking Spy. He will not be here.” “I sure will!” squeed the dainty warrior, trotting in place and limbering up his wings. “I’m the great Moeru! It’s going to be soooo exciting, weeee!” “Do you need my aid?” continued Daitana, hoping Moeru wouldn’t call him on it. “Injuries of yours to heal? Or help with the ma…” Daitana froze. Next to him, Kichona went pale. The last thing he wanted to do was bring up traditional Neighponnese customs, with only Kichona present. ‘Help with the mares’ could only mean an offer to render him unfruitful, sterile for a time. This was a bargain struck with the pegasus warriors, and there were compensations. In many villages, mares were eager to offer themselves to warrior pegasi, especially since it wouldn’t produce inconvenient foals. They had their fun, and the pegasi got to be the flying, pony-screwing, glorious rulers of all they surveyed, provided they didn’t argue about the arrangement or who was really calling the shots. Ordinary ponies could roll with this sort of thing in a spirit of ponyish affection and cheerful hedonism. Daitana couldn’t even look directly at Kichona. All at once, he realized he wasn’t the only renegade, the only one defying Neighpon’s odd, practical customs. She was horrified at the very notion of casual sex with a visiting pegasus, something that normally didn’t faze Neighponnese earth ponies—something that was even deemed welcome and sought after, a point of status. Not for Kichona, it wasn’t. And it wasn’t because he was a pegasus… it was because he was not Daitana, her intended husband. She’d been playing things easy and casual, but his slip had revealed that she was just as deeply in love as he was, and she blanched at the prospect that the pegasus warrior might want to screw her. The Great Moeru, warrior pegasus, didn’t seem to notice. “Nah,” he said. “I’m all about the stallions, and I don’t need your help with that.” “Oh,” said Daitana, almost staggering with relief. Beside him, Kichona exhaled. “No, really, I don’t!” insisted Moeru, pouting. “Do you think because I’m not all that big, I can’t take it? I’m the Great Moeru! I conquer all dick, I love it!” “That’s nice,” said Kichona carefully. “It’s good to have a hobby.” “A calling, more like!” boasted Moeru. “I have the best-feeling boypussy in all Neighpon! I take all the cocks!” “What, all of them?” said Daitana, forgetting his formal meter. Moeru sagged, and pouted. “Nah. They don’t let me return to that seaside town with all the pirates anymore—you know, Kabochaebi. I wore them all out and still wasn’t satisfied and the Kirin made me leave them alone. They still sing songs about me, you know. I shattered a glass with the force of my cum, while taking the largest-cocked pirate.” “That’s… nice?” said Kichona, eyes wide. Daitana gawked at the swishy little warrior pegasus. “You… ejaculated something harder than glass? I can’t imagine that a fluid could shatter a glass. Unless its temperature was very unusual. Were you perhaps feverish? I suppose if your story is true, you might well have been…” Moeru pouted. “Oh all right, I knocked it off the bar. They were playing target practice with me and making bets. It should still count, it did shatter once it hit the floor! Can I go now? I have to find the Sneaking Spy!” “Perhaps you’d better,” said Daitana, in perfect Kirin diction. “Weeee!” squeed the little red warrior pegasus, and he was gone in a streak of blurred speed, dragging a gust of wind behind him. Daitana and Kichona looked at each other. “Sneaking Spy?” said Daitana. Kichona frowned, sticking her lower lip out. “If they are looking for you, they can’t have you! You’re mine, so there!” “So you admit maybe they’re looking for me because I’m being a bad Kirin?” “Shush. Let’s go and find these musicians and warn them a pegasus is hunting them. Maybe one of the musicians is a stallion and there will be a happy ending.” “Except for another bar glass,” suggested Daitana, “shattered by a stray cum-shot.” Kichona tossed her mane. “I would believe it. And wasn’t it two musicians and a big stallion as road crew? Perhaps the Great Moeru’s luck is in.” Applejack trotted into Ponyville, well ahead of Uni, glancing around eagerly. It seemed curiously empty, though she couldn’t say exactly why. Ponyville wasn’t the most bustling metropolis, and there seemed no reason to expect hot and cold running ponies the instant she showed up. Hot FLYING ponies, on the other hand… Applejack kept looking. She’d been fantasizing about this moment. Dashie knew she’d gone on a journey. Would it be so very surprising if, while trotting home from her Neighpon adventure, she heard a rustle of wings from behind… and was surprised by a swooping, erect, horny pegasus? Rainbow had often talked about how hot it would be to just swoop down upon Applejack and take her, plunge into her with a single mighty plunge, impaling her and carrying her off to a romantic bower with ferns and flowers and a lot of lusty screaming and orgasms. It was a ridiculous fantasy, so they’d never done anything of the sort. Dash was large enough to really hurt Applejack if she’d tried to impale her to the hilt from a flying start, the attempt would also hurt Dash’s magic dick, and the closest they’d ever got to it was one lovemaking session where Dash had tried the swoop, realized she was wearing a ninja-pony catsuit, and had torn the crotch of her own catsuit out and gone for a good Applejacking instead. But… Uni trotted up. In the streets of Ponyville, she didn’t look a thing like the dread pirate queen Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp. It only showed in subtle ways, like how she wasn’t winded in the least from keeping up with eager Applejack. “Applejack-san, what worries you?” “Aw, ain’t nothin to worry about… well, phoo! Just as well, Ah guess…” Applejack did look dismayed, but it wasn’t about how sensible her fantasy was. Or, not in the obvious sense. Even as she imagined it, Applejack realized the flaw in her plan. Supposing Dash did fly up from behind, bit in teeth. Suppose she did get impaled upon cerulean cock, balled senseless the instant she showed her pretty tail in Ponyville again. Suppose Dash screwed her until they both came their butts off, without even exchanging a word, suppose she felt that gush of horsecome blasting her cervix, flooding her, squirting to the heart of her femaleness and triggering whatever the nice Kirin did for her… Wasn’t it going to be awkward as hell explaining to Dash what she’d just done? Wasn’t it going to ruin it for her beloved? Wouldn’t she want to make a bigger fuss over the process, knowing what it meant? Wouldn’t they want to linger and really wallow in the realities of it, since it was such a consarned unusual goin’-on to be going on? Applejack’s ears wilted, and she glanced around again, but prepared herself for a merry rodeo. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d teased an erect Dash with frisking and whirling. It would be the first time she’d done it in order to have a serious conversation first. Still, no Dash presented herself, erect or otherwise. “Applejack-san?” “Naw…” “What?” blinked the Neighponnese cutie. “Ah mean, yes!” corrected Applejack. “And what’s more, welcome to Ponyville! Don’t mind me, I was jes’ thinkin’ about things.” “What things?” asked Uni. “I will persuade them to not trouble you any more. If I may.” “Oh, no! Won’t be necessary. Happens I was just imagining my Rainbow Dash swooping down an’ slurp!” “Licking you?” said Uni, and blinked. “Oh! Slurp indeed. Applejack, please do not ask her to do this! You mustn’t encourage the show-offyness of male pegasi that way, trust me. It hurts, is bad for you, and is not good for the stallion either! I hope you have a lovely mating but you should appreciate it in leisure!” “Wait a minute, YOU…” began Applejack, then shook her head. “Never mind! At least it can’t have been B…” “Sh!” hissed Uni, a hint of Kabochaebi peeking out, and Applejack didn’t finish saying the name Blackmane. “Applejack!” came a new voice. Down the road trotted Rarity, looking fabulous, her mane and tail bouncing flawlessly. “Welcome back, darling. Who is your exquisite little friend?” “Uh, she’s Uni. Jes’ Uni,” explained Applejack. “She’s here to buy all of my Granny’s apple turnip cakes. Don’t ask.” “Indeed I will not, if you’d prefer not,” said Rarity. “The rumors I’ve heard suggest those cakes were not a culinary triumph.” “Not a triumph?” said Uni, puzzled. She brightened. “Of course. Instead they are a miracle!” “Oooh!” cooed Rarity. “I recognize that tone. Neighponnese! What a stroke of luck. For obvious reasons, I was busying myself with some Neighponnese-influenced fashions. Would you do me the honor of coming to the Carousel Boutique and giving me your opinion on them, Uni? I notice that you are not a unicorn: does the name Uni bear some added meaning, darling?” “Yes, it does,” replied Uni at once. “Oh, do tell me of this meaning!” cried Rarity, entranced. Somehow, the diminutive Neighponnese’s self-possessedness conveyed an aura of great celebrity, and Rarity’s eyes sparkled to witness it. “The Kirin nicknamed me that,” said Uni. “It is short for unique. But they hope that where I go, many will follow.” “How often I’d had that wish,” sighed Rarity. “And naturally, I would lead them straight to my newest fashions. Allow me to do exactly that for you, dear Uni! I can’t wait to get your opinion on the kimono designs. I’ve brought in just a touch of spikey warrior flair.” “Hang on,” said Applejack. “You’re designing Neighponnese dresses now? Is it ‘cos I went there?” “Oh, no,” said Rarity. “Come along, I’ll explain when we get to the Boutique.” “Um, nah. Beggin’ your pardon, but you an’ Uni go and play with dresses. I got what you might call an appointment. Except she don’t know it yet. Ah’m surprised she ain’t come zippin’ out of the sky, maybe she’s a-nappin’.” “Rainbow?” blinked Rarity. “Wull, yeah!” “Applejack, come with us,” ordered Rarity, suddenly authoritative. “I fear you’re a bit out of the loop…” “She WHAT?” wailed Applejack. “But she did,” said Rarity. “What is so shocking about that? You were just there yourself! I repeat, Rainbow Dash went to Neighpon.” “WHY?” “Oh, poor darling!” cried Rarity. “I am so sorry, I forgot how sentimental you can be! I promise she’ll be home before you know it, can I give you a hug? That I of all ponies should forget the depth and intensity of your love! You looked so capable and strong returning to Ponyville that I did not take into account your tender heart!” Applejack’s eyes were wild. With one hoof, she shoved her hat around on her head, then tamped it down securely. She glared at Rarity. “Tender heart, my ass. There’s more to this than you know, missy. Ah ask again, WHY has Rainbow gone to Neighpon?” Rarity blinked. “Because Sweetie Belle cannot fly, of course.” Applejack’s jaw dropped. Rarity pouted. “Well, she can’t! I’m not delighted about it myself. But I know Neighpon is lovely and safe, and I know she’s with Rainbow. They’ll be back with Braeburn in no time.” Applejack sat back heavily, with a boutique-rattling thud. She gawked at Rarity, and gulped. “Listen,” she said. “How about you tell me your story nice and slow, so’s I understand it. And then, I’ll tell you mine, and I promise you’ll understand why I’m a mite peakied at th’ moment. Okay?” Rarity trotted over, and gave Applejack a hug. “Deal! Mine first?” “If ya kin!” “Of course I, aha, ‘kin’, darling,” said Rarity. “Hmmm. So, to start at the beginning. Braeburn.” Applejack’s eyes widened. “Oh! Ya don’t mean he…” “He did,” confirmed Rarity, with a knowing glance. “And of course Scootaloo…” “AND Flight Lightning?” interrupted Applejack. Rarity nodded. “And therefore…” “Sweetie Belle,” said Applejack, shaking her head. “Oh, and…” “Oh yes,” said Rarity, nodding. “She caught him once. She’s never tired of telling that story. Of course, she decided she could do so again, the little blue minx. And as I said…” “Yeah,” said Applejack. “Them two do everything together. Aw, Rarity! Ya bearin’ up? Is it scary?” “Like I said, Neighpon is a lovely place, and she’s with Rainbow. I honestly don’t think she could come to harm. But yes, it is a little scary. Sweetie is my daughter, for all that we spent years denying it, and I suppose one’s child is always a soft spot. But really, I am sure she is safe,” said Rarity bravely. “Anyhow, any harm meant for her would have to get through first Scootaloo, then Rainbow, and possibly Flight Lightning as well…” “Definitely,” said Applejack. “That’s a good pony, that one. Even if she used to fight with Dashie.” “Ahem,” came a little voice. They looked over, to see Uni sitting, her ears splayed with chagrin. She added, “It is indeed a nice story, and you did not speak too quickly in telling it. But for all that, I fear I have understood nothing.” Applejack and Rarity glanced at each other, and giggled. Before Uni’s face could sadden further, Applejack said, “Ah am so sorry, honey! Us ponies, we’ve been through a lot together, and when we get a-talkin’ maybe we kin leave a lot out. Braeburn’s my second cousin. Them ponies I took over to Neighpon? The big ‘un, Big Macintosh, he’s Braeburn’s special somepony. And I guess we all figure we’ll miss Big Macintosh a lot, so when he set out for Neighpon for a lil’ musical tour…” Uni nodded. “Or forever,” she added. “Beg pardon?” blinked Applejack. Uni glanced back and forth between the two Ponyvilleans. “Oh… I thought you knew. Of the ponies on that tour, there is one who left Neighpon and seeks to conquer it, one who is forever the visitor and lives somewhere else, and one who yearns. He will not return. I saw it in his eyes.” Applejack and Rarity stared, dumbfounded. Uni continued, “I think the grey one, the visitor, might be one of those stateless artist ponies? She could be anywhere, for the place she truly lives is inside her music. And of course you can always tell an expatriate returning to conquer the shores they’ve abandoned…” “WHUT did you say about Big Macintosh?” demanded Applejack. “Oh, no!” wailed Rarity. “I knew it, but I hoped against hope it was not so! Why did they ever set up the poor silly boob with that lovely Kirin? I knew it!” Applejack whirled. “Hang on, is this why you was carryin’ on when we left? I thought it was more crazy unicorn horseapples. Are you sayin’ you KNEW Big Macintosh was leavin’ never to return, and you never said nothin’?” Applejack and Rarity stared at each other, and were interrupted by a polite throat-clearing. It was Uni. “What or who is a Scootaloo?” she said. “You haven’t finished your part of the story.” Applejack stuck out her lower lip, her eyes flashing. “Rarity, hush. Y’all be quiet until we’re done.” “Yes’m,” said Rarity immediately. She sat, her lip quivering and eyes glistening, but made no disruptive noises. Applejack turned to Uni. “Ah will. And then, we ain’t finished until you tell us what you know an’ how you know it. Got that?” “Yes. Please, explain more?” “About to.” Applejack took a breath. “And if you expect us to do that for ya, kindly don’t bust out with alarmin’ notions! Okay. Braeburn ob’vsly was goin’ after Big Macintosh, ‘cos of course he would, shoulda seen that one comin’. Well, Scootaloo is Braeburn’s filly from outta Flight Lightning. Them two lived all by themselves in a lil’ house on account of Scootaloo, she ain’t much for flying like the regular pegasi. Flight, she was real cranky about it, ‘cos the pegasus fella she was with, he dumped her when he learned Scootaloo wasn’t his. Y’know, because of them tiny useless wings from matin’ with an earth pony…” Uni’s frown was grim and disapproving. It seemed Neighpon wouldn’t have permitted such an abandonment. Applejack pressed on. “So if Braeburn was goin’, then it ain’t surprisin’ that Scootaloo was chasin’ after her daddy, or Flight Lightnin’ after her sweetie. Them two did lots better as soon as Braeburn was livin’ in town and bein’ part of their family. They don’t mind if Braeburn’s mostly in love with Big Macintosh, ‘cos y’know, ponies, but it means a lot to have him around. And if they thought Braeburn was gone for good…” “He kicked his house down and fled,” said Rarity. Applejack glanced at her, but it wasn’t a hysterical outburst: it was Rarity, knowing in her confident unicorn brain she had something relevant to add, and doing so without undue fuss. “Did he now?” said Applejack. Rarity nodded, her eyes still glistening. “Scootaloo and Sweetie told me. They were in a terrible hurry, and I took their word. Later, I went to see, and indeed he had. It was knocked down, as they said, from the inside.” Applejack set her jaw. “You got a good eye, Rarity, an’ you’re helpful on a job site. How about you help me rebuild it? He’s gonna need it. When he comes home.” Rarity nodded. “Of course. Go on. Scootaloo and Flight Lightning, you’d got to.” “Yep,” said Applejack. “Well, the thing is, if Scootaloo’s gonna go off to Neighpon after her Daddy… and keep in mind, this ain’t the first time Braeburn’s done a runner, it used to be how he dealt with everything… well, Scootaloo’s sweetie is Sweetie. Belle, I mean. Rarity’s girl. They go everywhere together an’ of course she would go with Scootaloo. But the thing is, Scootaloo can’t fly over a damn ocean, and Sweetie can’t fly at all. And, dammit, I do remember when my Dashie flew out and caught Braeburn at his Braeburniest. That’s who brought him back to Ponyville. She tole me she talked him into livin’ here, and she said it’s because she herself got so much out of livin’ real close with us ponies that she thought it might suit him too…” Uni nodded. “Our Kirin understand this. Neighponnese ponies live all together, without these… groups. Of purebloods, dominating the earth ponies.” Applejack blinked. “Say what? We don’t hold with that in Ponyville!” Rarity shushed her. “Neighponnese history, darling. Go on. So, since Sweetie can’t fly…” “Oh, right,” said Applejack. “So, ob’vsly Rainbow got a bright idea, and I reckon it’s Scootaloo on Flight Lightning and Sweetie on Rainbow Dash, and they headed across the sea as fast as they ever could, to catch ol’ Braeburn and talk some sense into him. Heh. Weather Patrol Stars, and Auxiliaries. I bet they were pretty tired when they got there, but those are two mighty fast an’ strong weather ponies an’ I completely understand why they thought they could do it. If ya know what you’re capable of, you can do gosh dern amazin’ things.” She glanced at Rarity. “Fer instance, do you think y’kin gussy up Braeburn’s house so he feels happy to see it once he gets back?” Rarity nodded vehemently. “Oh, yes. And I think he’ll be grateful, and it might help soothe his loss.” “Whaddya mean, loss?” demanded Applejack. Rarity gulped, her eyes still glistening. “I shall not ‘carry on’, Applejack, for we have a guest, and there are things that remain unresolved. Two of them, and for one we must turn to Uni for our answers, while the other answer must come from you.” “Oh yeah?” “Erm, ‘yeah’,” replied Rarity. “Obviously we must learn why Uni believes Big Macintosh is lost to Neighpon. That’s what I mean by Braeburn’s loss. But, Applejack, when we arrived, before you’d heard any of this, you ‘carried on’ yourself when you learned Rainbow had left. Before we go any further I would like to know why that upset you so much. I know you very well, darling, and that news rocked you like nothing I’ve seen.” Applejack stopped, her eyes wide. “Uh. Well, y’know, I can tell you, but it ain’t got nothin’ to do with Big Macintosh. Whole different other thing.” “Is it?” said Uni. “Neighpon gains a pony from Ponyville… and Neighpon gives a new pony, that would not have existed, to Ponyville.” “Now see here…” “Please, Applejack,” said Rarity, “tell me. I confess I haven’t the foggiest idea what Uni is talking about, but whatever is on your mind is plainly upsetting, even disastrous, and you are dismayed that Rainbow is not here to help you confront it! What disaster do you face?” Applejack blinked at Rarity, astonished. She blinked again. And then… she began to smile, a soft wry amused smile that built like the sense of comfort a pony might get from warming herself before a cozy fire. And Rarity, in turn, stared in amazement, then began to smile in return, her expression puzzled but pleased. “Naw,” said Applejack. “Not what you’d call a disaster, Rarity. Wouldn’t blame some folk for takin’ cover, though, after the first time!” “Oh, do go on,” purred Rarity, eyes alight with curiosity. “Them Kirin, they’re clever critters,” said Applejack. “One fixed me up. The next time Dashie gets with me… boom!” “You shall explode in sexual climax? How is that unusual?” teased Rarity. Applejack made a face. “It’ll be worth it. Sure will swole up fit to bust, I guess. I’m game, bring it on.” Rarity’s eyes widened. “You mean…” “Rainbow’s gonna take her magic bit and make me pregnant by her,” said Applejack. “Kirin fixed me up so’s that kin happen.” Rarity seemed to levitate off the ground for a moment in glee. She gave a little whinny of delight, and hugged Applejack impetuously. “Darling! Oh, how marvellous! I know what you mean to each other, and how much you both love Northern Spy, and what’s more, shall I be just a teensy bit bold and suggest this is personal to you?” Applejack’s smile mirrored her unicorn friend’s. “How ya mean?” Rarity’s eyes narrowed wickedly, though her smile stayed rosy. “Oh, you know. My little ruffian, bad girl roughneck type, so butch? Former Boss Mare of Sweet Apple Acres, mare-stallion par excellence, rootin’-tootin’ cowpony so strong she can make Rainbow Dash a wife and mother, hmm?” “That ain’t all by a long shot,” said Applejack, with a glance at Uni. “Whatcha drivin’ at, Rarity?” Her ears quirked in perplexity. Rarity smiled. “Would YOU, dear Applejack, like to be a loving wife and devoted mare-mother, also?” The glow that came over Applejack was something to behold, and Rarity drank it in quite unselfishly. Her ear flicked just a bit as she filed the joyous picture under both ‘friendship’ and ‘might have been’… but Rarity had no regrets about the unfolding of her life, and only considered the image of ‘luminous, feminine Applejack awaiting the mating of a stallion Rarity’ as one fragment of a kaleidoscopic history, neither to be repudiated nor clung to. Anyhow, they’d tried that experiment and Rainbow Dash was far more suited to Applejack’s rambunctious, country-pony side, so Rarity happily contemplated the essence of femininity she saw, content to be part of that life rather than central to it. Applejack pouted, sticking out her lower lip. “Anyways,” she said, “that’s why I need Rainbow to come an’ fuck me NOW, dammit!” She stamped a hoof aggressively, and then flinched and looked abashed, for she’d made a small dent in the floor of the Carousel Boutique. Rarity did not flinch, and her smile did not waver, nor even one ear lay back from its position. “And you’re still as gentle as ever,” she teased. Applejack’s huge smile returned, and she trotted over and hugged Rarity. “Yep! So that’s my story. Part of it,” she said, glancing at Uni. “Maybe I’ll tell you the rest sometime. If ya promise not to get kinky ideas.” Rarity laughed. “No promises, darling! I am nothing if not full of ideas!” She smiled back at Applejack… and then, both turned, to regard Uni. “All right,” said Applejack. “Why’d you say my brother ain’t leaving Neighpon? Ah don’t like the sound of that, and it seems like Rarity thought that would happen too, and never said a thing about it!” Uni tapped a hoof delicately on the floor. “I don’t know. I have seen the signs. A foreign pony comes to our land, and the beauty captures them. There is no escape. We say, ‘just once surrounded - by swirls of cherry blossoms - the world disappears’. After all, Neighpon is the most beautiful of all places, with the best ponies and gardens, all watched over by Kirin who love us. How can they not fall in love with our world?” Applejack and Rarity shared a glance. “WE got apple turnip cakes,” said Applejack laconically. “And Princesses,” added Rarity. “And Canterlot fashions.” “Mind you, your country is right perty, too, in its own way,” added Applejack. “But before you get carried away with it, remember who’s givin’ ya the apple turnip cakes.” “Oh, really, Applejack,” sniffed Rarity, “I hardly think that culinary hallucination compares to Canterlot, or even the Whitetail Woods on a lovely fall evening…” “Know yer mare,” hinted Applejack. “Look at ‘er.” Uni wiped her mouth hastily with the back of a dainty hoof. “I am fine! But I agree, I will honor the home of your apple turnip cakes. I did not mean to offend. Only to explain why your Big Macintosh will stay in Neighpon. There is a look in the eye when a pony has set hoof on our shores and is filled with determination to experience our beauty…” “Well, he did that already,” said Applejack, “several times if I ain’t readin’ too much into the situation. Still cain’t hardly believe a lil’ thing like that could fit him.” “Oh, yes,” said Rarity. “I saw them together. It’s not your country, dear Uni, that he craves. I knew deep in my heart that he is on a more personal quest. He’s going to go find his mate. It’s terribly romantic, but I couldn’t help but weep, because he is part of us, and we may never see him again.” “Now see here!” said Applejack. “We damn well are gonna see him again, ain’t you ever heard of visits and vacations? An’ secondly, that ain’t the feeling I got off of him an’ Hina. I get that he was swept off his hooves by the fussy lil’ critter, but she went back home! Don’t you think she would’ve stayed with us if they were gonna be a couple?” “Immaterial,” said Rarity. “Perhaps they will return. Not to be over-blunt about it, I have owned Big Macintosh’s heart and you have not… not in the sense you know I mean. I can tell. He is following Hina, and where she goes, he will go. They’re mates, it happened right under our noses and we didn’t spot it. As for her returning to Neighpon, she has business there, obviously, darling.” “Yeah?” argued Applejack. “Well, one thing about it, it explains why he was so hot to go there! You figure he wants more Kirin tail? I’m sure she ain’t complainin’. Prob’ly arranged it all ahead of time.” She turned triumphantly to Uni. “But you can’t say he’ll never leave Neighpon! It ain’t what you think. Ah say, nope! Simpler explanation. Big fella’s shacked up with a Kirin wife, that’s all. They kin make their home there AND here, and be welcome to it. I’m sure she’ll love Ponyville as much as we do.” Uni studied her, and then issued her pronouncement. “Nope!” “Aw COME on…” “If you are correct, you must prepare to welcome him home with a broken heart,” said Uni. “What you suggest is impossible. No Kirin would fall in love with a single earth pony stallion. Your unicorn friend is mistaken as well. The Kirin, Hina, would not be returning to Neighpon for business.” Rarity blinked. “Forgive me, but I have read about your country, and aren’t your Kirin deeply involved in many aspects of…” “She would return to Neighpon because it is her LIFE,” said Uni. Her eye glistened just a bit, for the first time either Applejack or Rarity had ever seen. “If she is a Kirin, she is our land and the land is her. The ponies don’t own Kirin any more than the grass or the trees do. She loves and protects it all, with a wisdom beyond anything else on this world. This is the truth of my home.” Applejack bridled faintly, muttering “Princesses…” but Rarity shushed her and turned to Uni again. “Oh, dear. You are saying that, even if Big Macintosh is on a grand romantic quest, it must prove unfruitful? When he learns that this Hina will not abandon her duties and sit about rubbing his hooves, he’ll turn tail and run back home in tears because she will reject him?” Uni’s ears laid back. “Rubbing his hooves? It sounds like what the pegasi used to make pony villages do. That and sucking their dicks. Who would sit around rubbing their stallion’s hooves when there are useful things to be done?” Applejack and Rarity shared another glance. “Fluttershy,” they said, and Rarity turned back to Uni. “But you’re certain that this Kirin will break his heart and send him straight home like the silly horse he is?” “Aw, c’mon!” said Applejack, and considered. “Mind you, you got sort of a point there. Not jes’ on your head, I mean.” Rarity swatted her with a hoof, gently. “Uni! Are you sure?” The little Neighponnese mare looked dismayed. “You express it all wrong! How can you put it in such hurtful terms? Don’t you know what a Kirin is?” “Maybe not as well as Big Macintosh does!” said Applejack. She thought, remembering. “I did like it, though, when I tried it. That feller, wow! If he was fixin’ to do me like that every night, I swear I’d have a hard time stayin’ on the farm. Hooo-eee!” Rarity turned. “You had sex with one? Tell, tell!” “Not now,” retorted Applejack. “I’ll tell ya later. It’s really somethin’. First things first. Uni, we’re talkin’ about whether Big Macintosh is gonna stay or come home! You’re tellin’ us he likes the pretty flowers. We are tellin’ you that it’s a filly-flower he’s chasin’, and what’s more a real damn specific one stuck between the legs of a young lady Kirin who’s returned to Neighpon. I think Rarity’s right, and he’s chasin’ that Hina. I know my brother and he’s a romantic fool in his own way, and I kin believe it. Uni, if she ain’t gonna break his heart and chase him right back home, what the hay is she gonna do with him?” Uni contemplated this, and the ponies let her. Finally, she spoke. “To love a Kirin is not wrong. We all love our Kirin. None of us would dare try and own the heart of one… the very idea seems impossible. Wishing to do so… I think the Kirin would be gentle. I don’t know what she should tell him. We know, you see. We know it is impossible, and if he does not, he will have to learn. They are not like us. They are something grander and better, and we depend on that wisdom, but they are not like us so I cannot know what the Kirin will do with your brother.” They were quiet for a moment, and then Rarity addressed the Neighponnese mare. “Kirin may be more like our Princesses than you think, Uni. And our Princesses are still ponies, you know.” “They sure are!” said Applejack. “Why, there’s been times we all rushed off to rescue Twilight’s marefriend, and it turns out Princess Luna got a lil’ too attracted, and dang, the things they were gonna get up to. Of course that ain’t no different to what Twilight and Trixie do with each other normal-like. If you call that normal, which Ah don’t.” “Uht!” cautioned Rarity. “Too much information! Of course we’re not suggesting Kirin go around seducing ponies into bondage dungeons.” She considered this for a moment. “Er… do they?” “Wipe your chin, Rarity,” teased Applejack. “I am NOT drooling!” “You ought to be,” chuckled Applejack, “and I ain’t checked both ends, y’know. Uni! The point we are haphazardly makin’ is this one. Maybe your Kirin, and our Princesses, ain’t so different. All sorts of critters love. I saw that Hina, an’ I saw her with Big Macintosh. Not gittin’ with Big Macintosh, I mean—just bein’ cozy, friendly. She din’t seem that impossible to me.” “Kirin seek justice,” said Uni. “Kirin have a duty. It’s more important than their own lives. They seek out and destroy darkness, and celebrate beauty.” “Do you think this Kirin is likely to try and destroy Big Macintosh?” asked Rarity, raising an eyebrow. “For instance, if he professes his love and wants to cram his penis into her at some inconvenient time? And before you ask, I never saw him do it to her and it seems faintly implausible, unless she’s adept with rather specialized magic tricks.” “Kirin are adept at all magic!” protested Uni. “Won’t catch me arguing about that,” said Applejack. “Woooo-eee!” “The point I’m trying to make here,” said Rarity, “is this: Big Macintosh is a good pony. I may not know everything about Kirin, but I can tell you that I myself was the subject of the Kirin’s attention. I shall never forget it. Most impressive… and if she didn’t choke on me, darling, there’s no chance she would balk at Big Macintosh. Why, I entertained her and Big Macintosh for breakfast one day, until Sweetie and Derpy Hooves got defensive and chased her off.” “They did what?” gawked Applejack. “Long story, darling… but do you see? Perhaps, as a Neighponnese pony, you are so good and obedient and peaceful that you can’t imagine your Kirin being close with, ah ha, earthier ponies with more spunk. But I assure you, this Hina studied me with great interest. She saw all of my darkness, and she was very strict with me about it, but she loved me all the same and wished me well. And I promise you, Big Macintosh is a cupcake by comparison.” Applejack frowned. “You ain’t seen him in every light. Maybe you should ask Fluttershy about that one.” “Oh,” said Rarity. “As it happens, I did. Erm… I’ve had words with Fluttershy about that evening. Let us say, if the Kirin was around to see her provoking those stallions, she would have blown up in a big shower of sparks.” Rarity licked her lips. “What a wicked, wicked night that was.” Uni hesitated. “Are you afraid the Kirin will smite your Big Macintosh, because he’s got wickedness in his past?” “You’re the one telling us she’s bound to send him away,” said Applejack. “I thought they looked perty snuggly, myself.” Rarity gulped. “We’d better ask, I think. Is he in danger? You’re telling us his attentions will be unwelcome. She’ll read him like a book. What then?” “Kirin see the good in ponies, through any darkness,” said Uni. “That is their gift and obligation.” The words seemed to shock Rarity. Her eyes glistened. “Yes,” she said, “yes they do. She saw the good in me.” “And me,” said Uni. Rarity blinked. “What is so surprising about that? You are a sweet little Neighponnese pony.” “I am Kabochaebi,” said Uni. “The Kirin still love me, because I believe in good.” “What a charming name,” said Rarity. “Can I use it for some of my designs?” “Best not,” said Applejack, hastily. “I am Kabochaebi, the Mantis Shrimp,” said Uni. “The scourge of the seas… until I and my crew surrendered to the Kirin, and their justice. I was the most terrifying pirate queen in all Equestria.” She blinked. “Though I’m sure certain other ones were very intimidating in their own right, and I don’t mean to belittle anypony.” “Movin’ right along!” squeaked Applejack, blushing, but Rarity didn’t notice. “Eee!” she squealed. “You’re in one of Twilight’s history books! Sweetie asked me if you were real!” “What did you answer?” said Uni, lifting an eyebrow. “Er… I said probably not,” admitted Rarity. “The tales of your destructiveness seemed exaggerated.” The little Neighponnese pony whinnied in satisfaction, trotting in place, and then controlled herself. “We are much better now. The Kirin explained to me that I must forever seek the good, because I am forever balancing between good and evil.” “I reckon most ponies might say that,” said Applejack. “Who ever heard of a pony that was totally good without a wicked bone in their body?” She and Rarity glanced at each other. “Derpy Hooves,” admitted Applejack. She caught the twinkle in Rarity’s eye, and added, “I mean bones of their own, dang it!” “It sounds like you, Uni, have demonstrated the tolerance of the Kirin even more than I have,” said Rarity. Uni blinked. “Oh, no. There is no tolerance. I surrendered to the justice of the Kirin,” she explained. “That has never changed. My crew and I grew tired of blood, tired of violence. We expected to die. At least five of my crew fled, and died to the Kirin.” Ponyville pony jaws dropped in tandem. Kabochaebi pouted. “I told you, Applejack. Not all of us made it to the town where we surrendered. What did you think would happen to such wicked pirates? They died.” “But… Kirin see th’ good in anypony, includin’ my brother…” said Applejack. Uni gave her a look. “But they chose badness,” she said. “I never said the Kirin were fools, Booties.” Braeburn crept through the night, keeping near the treeline and navigating by the moon and stars. Turned out it was the same stars over Neighpon, which came in handy, though he couldn’t see them nearly as well as he could from the Appleloosan prairie. It didn’t matter: he knew where he stood. He headed north, for the musical tour would have headed toward the capital. He figured he might see posters, or find clearings where a little stage had been set up. A sound impended. At first quiet, like a desultory tearing of cloth, it expanded suddenly in loudn WHAM! Braeburn reeled, knocked senseless. The last time he’d been hit that hard, it had been a flying tackle from Rainbow Dash, and so he looked upward in the moonlight to see if he was pinned down by a cerulean pegasus mare. Instead, he saw a heart-wrenchingly familiar coat color, but the size was all wrong… “I am the great Moeru!” proclaimed his captor. “And you are the Sneaking Spy, and you’re my prisoner!” “Ah am?” managed Braeburn. Moeru nodded happily. “I caught you. That was a great tackle! It was dark but I saw the glint of your eye and I swerved and wham! I got you! All your limbs were flailing in the air for a second until I pinned you against the ground. Did any of them come off? Once I tackled a pony so hard it ripped one of his legs off.” Braeburn gulped. “Don’t think so, mister. Ain’t that kinda rough?” Moeru shrugged. “We were hunting pirates. The Kirin warned me they would hurt me if I gave them a chance, so I went all out. That one didn’t suffer long, the Kirin were right there. You’re my Sneaking Spy, but you don’t talk like an evil pony so are you sure your appendages are all right? We can go and get you healed if you’d like.” “Gosh, I wish ya could,” said Braeburn, looking at that alluring shade of brick-red in moonlight. “An’ that’s the truth.” It brought up memories of hiding on the prairie with his beloved Princess, the big red farm horse who was his heart and soul. “Sure!” said Moeru brightly. “I don’t think any Kirin are nearby, so we’ll have to walk. Which appendage is broken?” He prodded Braeburn’s limbs experimentally. “Jes’ my heart…” “What?” “Nothin’,” said Braeburn, rallying. “Gosh, you sure knocked me halfway to Appleloosa. Oh my, I ain’t sure I can stand up, much less run away or nothin’. You’re a fierce lil’,” and he looked the shadowy figure over, “…stallion?” “Yes I am!” boasted the great Moeru. His voice seemed as wispy as his figure, but he’d hit like a large flying rock. “Are you sure none of your limbs are broken?” “Ya ain’t checked ‘em all,” suggested Braeburn, taking a gamble. Moeru’s eyes widened in the moonlight. He was straddling his victim… but was increasingly aware he’d captured a stallion. Braeburn could just about get it up for a cactus if he really needed to, and the trick had already worked on one pegasus warrior. Something was stirring under Moeru’s belly. He smiled. “You are a stallion too. Captivity suits you? How, mister Sneaking Spy, do you think I should check this new appendage? What is so exciting all of a sudden, apart from the obvious answer, my glorious body that pins you to the ground without hope of escape?” Like hell there ain’t, thought Braeburn. He replied, “Uh… you remind me of somepony. Most beautiful pony in the whole world, if you wanna be particular. Kin ya blame me?” “There is no pony more beautiful than the great Moeru,” purred the pegasus warrior. He began to rub his belly against Braeburn’s burgeoning erection. “Ain’t there?” “You like stallion booty?” teased Moeru, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “You will, once I’m done with ya.” “You like stallion cock?” retorted Braeburn. He struggled to hang on to the suggestive tone, because the coat color was doing his head in. There’d been no other stallion for him since Big Macintosh, and now this pegasus boy was getting incredibly personal and even looked a little like his beloved, and his body reacted with a huge hard-on but his mind was screaming and refusing to cooperate… “And your stallion cock will like me,” purred Moeru. “I’ll ruin you for mares. Don’t worry, I’ll come and visit you while you rehabilitate. We keep our prisoners happy, when they’re good prisoners. You can’t ever escape me, so let’s start to make you more friendly and nice.” He was wriggling, now. Braeburn’s cock throbbed like it was trying to explode. “An’ what if I ruin ya with this here stallion cock?” said Braeburn, trying not to sound desperate. “What if I leave ya a beautiful pegasus puddle and ya can’t even twitch a wingtip, huh? Does that seem likely?” Moeru smiled down at him. “No,” he said, “but we can call it good behavior. I’m sure the Kirin will smile upon you for fucking me that well. I don’t think you understand. I’m the Great Moeru. I take all the cocks, and yours will be wonderful, I can already tell. I promise I’ll do everything I can to make it wonderful for you too, and I’m really good, and I bet I could do you six times and still be ready for more. Want to bet? How much will you bet?” “Uh,” said Braeburn, at a loss. “Ain’t got much left but my life…” Moeru wriggled, then lifted his hindquarters, allowing Braeburn’s cock to sproing forth. “We’ll keep that. I like you, Sneaking Spy. I think I’ll keep you for myself. Now, come and let me show you what you’ll be doing for the rest of that life. I think you’ll like it, if you only try.” He rose, and slunk like a cat around Braeburn, who could see that everything about the lusty pegasus boy was erect: wings, cock, even the arch of his tail. Braeburn gulped, eyeing the pert round buttocks teasingly proffered to him. “And what,” said Braeburn, his mouth suddenly dry, “do ya think I’m gonna do with THAT?” The Great Moeru’s smile was wistful, bold, yearning. “I am yours. Love me,” he ordered, and pressed low, his rump sticking up, his cheek nuzzling the grass dreamily. Braeburn wandered over. Moeru gave a little coo, shot Braeburn an exultant glance, quivered with anticipation. Braeburn reared, but like he was a much older pony. “Oh, no,” he breathed. He was trembling as he came down onto Moeru’s hindquarters. His cock thumped the inside of Moeru’s leg. Moeru gave a little squee of desire. “Oh, yes!” he cried. His little noise was eerily, worryingly like noises Big Macintosh had made, on a prairie, so long ago. “Uhhh,” said Braeburn, shaking, his eyes tearing up. His heart felt like it was about to rip itself out of his chest in protest. Moeru didn’t even look back at him. Moeru nuzzled the grass, closing his lovely eyes, trembling as Big Macintosh had, once. Moeru crooned, “Love me!” Braeburn lashed out with a forehoof, cracking the giddy pegasus across the head, thrashing away from him awkwardly. Moeru collapsed. As Braeburn galloped away into the night, weeping hysterically, he yelled back at the unhearing pegasus warrior. “AH CAIN’T!”
VsKawa and Yosuru crept through the night, keeping near the treeline and peering around by the light of the moon and stars. Kawa looked up, sharply. “Do you feel that?” he asked, but one glance told him that his Kirin companion felt it, too. Wrongness. Wickedness, tragedy, injustice, lurking in the shadows… “With me,” ordered Yosuru in a commanding hiss, but she’d taken only a few steps toward the danger when its nature revealed itself. At first slinking towards what might be an attacker, she began to gallop towards the opposite… an attackED. “Oh, no!” gasped Kawa. The sad little pile of disheveled feathers looked very small in the moonlight. And it looked small in the daytime, though indomitable, because it was the great Moeru. He’d seen greater days… and nights. “Don’t…” began Yosuru, worriedly, but Kawa had already reached out with his magic and lifted the pegasus warrior’s little head. Moeru stirred, then emitted a shrill whimper. He tried to cover his head with his wings. “Ow, ow ow ow ow!” “Don’t do that, little one!” begged Yosuru. “Why ow! not? ow!” wailed Moeru pitifully. Kawa had gone pale. He saw why not. Moeru was moving feebly, barely coordinated, and had every excuse for that: there was a visible dent in his head, from some terrible blow. Yosuru turned to Kawa, grimly. “Keep him from moving, and keep him alive! I will get Kantokusha, he would never forgive me if I failed him now!” “But you’re more powerful at…” began Kawa, but he was talking to the wind. Yosuru was just a receding streak in the moonlight, tearing across the hills of Neighpon at unthinkable speed to fetch the Kirin who looked after the town of Taikutsuna, adjacent to Kabochaebi. Yosuru was no doubt more powerful at keeping a grievously injured pegasus boy alive, but she was also faster at getting help. He turned to Moeru, biting his lip in anxiety, trying to work out the best course of action. What if the wild little pegasus tried to leap about, or flee? His fears were unfounded. Moeru didn’t move, not even his trembling wings. Moeru… cried. His voice was soft, perhaps because of his distress, perhaps because the pain of his injury forcibly subdued him. It wrung Kawa’s heart to hear it. “Why?” whimpered Moeru. “Ow… why did he hit me? I was going to be nice to him. It hurts, it hurts so much…” “Don’t move,” urged Kawa. “Help is coming.” “Am I going to die?” said Moeru softly. “It was not a battle. I didn’t want to battle him…” “Shh,” said Kawa, but couldn’t help but ask, “Who?” “The Sneaking Spy,” breathed Moeru. “I wanted to make love to the Sneaking Spy. He was so sexy. Oh, it grows dark…” “Hold on!” said Kawa. “Soon Yosuru will return, with… He arrives! Be strong, hold on!” It was two streaks that raced across the hills to join them. Yosuru’s speed was amazing, but the other streak kept right up. Racing to Moeru’s side, the haughty Kirin Kantokusha did not spare a glance for either the Kirin that had fetched him, or the Kirin who attended his townspony. Indeed, Kantokusha bumped Kawa aside, and stood over Moeru, his eyes huge and worried and his lip quivering in emotion. “My foolish pony…” “It’s you! Kushie-pie!” said Moeru feebly. “Kiss me, I am dying…” Kantokusha wiped a tear, making a face. “Nonsense. Don’t fidget. Yosuru, make your energies available, in case I need them.” “I can too!” said Kawa helpfully. “I suppose,” said Kantokusha dismissively. “Be quiet, I must focus.” His horn, glimmering in the moonlight like glacier ice, seethed and lit. The glow reached out to Moeru’s head, cradling it. “Ow, quit it!” whimpered Moeru. “You, be quieter,” ordered Kantokusha. “It serves you right if this hurts. It’s for your own good.” The words were strict, even harsh. All the while, the uptight Kirin’s powerful magic gently, delicately worked on the dent in Moeru’s head, controlling bleeding, healing tissue, knitting bone and restoring it to its proper place. Kantokusha looked angry, formidable as he worked, but all the same he was biting his lower lip as Kawa had, a telltale sign of anxiety. The anxiety gradually subsided as Kantokusha’s efforts bore fruit. He found less and less to do, and finally he loomed over his little pony, frowning, stroking Moeru’s mane. Yosuru and Kawa held their breaths, and Moeru himself lay quietly and obediently. “Have you healed his wounds?” asked Yosuru. “Yes, I have,” said Kantokusha. “YAY!” squealed the Great Moeru, and sprung up off the ground with a great flapping of wings. “Owies! Yay!” He whirled and pounced his Kirin, hugging and kissing Kantokusha even while his eyes crossed with giddy agony. “Stop that, calm yourself!” demanded Kantokusha, and his magic seized the demented little pegasus by the scruff of his mane, and held him at a distance. Moeru blinked at his rescuer. “Why does my head still hurt?” “Because something smashed it in,” explained Kantokusha wearily, “and now you must heal. Do you think I am Daiyam, there to knit together the thoughts of your very brain? I doubt even he could do that, and if he could, he would be horrified at most of those thoughts, little pony.” “Can I kiss you some more?” “No,” ordered Kantokusha. “You must tell me what happened. Another tree collision?” “Not as such,” said Kawa. The older Kirin glanced sharply at him, and then returned his gaze to Moeru. “What happened?” Moeru blinked, and then Kantokusha put him down and he sat politely and began to explain. “We were hunting the Sneaking Spy. You know? The creature that Kawa and Yosuru are seeking. It hides and creeps through the night. And I found it, and it was a very sexy stallion! So I pounced him, and captured him, and I was going to keep him prisoner and make him happy by letting him have sex with me a lot…” “Yes, yes, yes,” said Kantokusha looking more and more worried, “but then what happened?” “But that’s what makes me sad,” said Moeru, “cos he was just about to get started, he even had an erection and it was a really good one, and then… he HIT me…” Kantokusha’s eyes widened. He stared at nothing for a moment, too dismayed to speak. Then he glanced at Yosuru… and, after a moment, at Kawa with an expression that spoke eloquently of the low opinion he held of Kabochaebi’s second Kirin, the less powerful one brought in to be a good influence on Yosuru. And then, Kantokusha spoke to them. “You will accompany me. We go now. We will find this Spy. And he dies tonight…” “Wait!” squeaked Moeru. Kantokusha looked shocked. He glanced at Moeru, astonished that his vengeful justice should be challenged by the very victim of needless violence who’d just been harmed. He blinked at the warrior pegasus. “What?” Moeru scuffed a hoof on the grass. He made a face, laying his ears back, for his head still hurt in spite of Kantokusha’s healings. He stuck out his lower lip, petulantly. “You can’t kill him yet,” said the little warrior. “Because you claim that privilege for yourself?” said Kantokusha, disapprovingly. “You must let us administer this justice.” “No!” squeaked Moeru, and winced. “No. Not for that reason.” “What is troubling you?” said Yosuru, gently. Kantokusha shot her an annoyed glance, but it seemed to have helped. Moeru’s eyes glistened. “You can’t kill him until I get to ask him why.” he said plaintively. “It hurt my feelings. I was giving him love, and I was going to be nice to him. I have to know… Kushie-wooshie, please. I gotta know.” Kantokusha frowned, and did not immediately respond… Back in Ponyville, on the previous afternoon, three ponies had trotted cheerfully off to Sweet Apple Acres to conduct important turnip business. Uni (or Kabochaebi) led the way, eager to negotiate exclusive trade agreements to Apple Turnip Cakes in Neighpon… or, indeed, anywhere she could. She smiled, her eyes faintly narrowed, as she trotted along. If the language of the agreement gave her exclusive rights to distribution in Ponyville also, that would go politely unremarked upon unless it was time to renegotiate the contract. Of course, the way she’d frame it would be ‘Camelu, Zebrica, and all other foreign countries’. Everywhere was foreign to somewhere. Uni sped up, her gait bouncy. “Rarity?” said Applejack. “Got a moment?” “Why, yes,” said Rarity. “Shall we stop?” “No, no… jes’ let me bend your ear a mite while we head over to Sweet Apple Acres?” “Consider it bent, darling,” said Rarity, and quirked it Applejack’s way with alacrity. Applejack sighed. “Thankee… it’s just that Uni’s got me frettin’. You seem to know things about Neighpon? Ah thought I did, until we got talkin’.” Rarity’s gait was untroubled. “I don’t know everything, but I am nothing if not cosmopolitan! You may be surprised at how many ponies have had some contact with Neighpon. I’ve not been there, but I’m dear friends with several garment buyers from Neighpon. They are shrewd, even ruthless, but I am the artiste: when they get too demanding, I resort to the fainting couch and I wail and cry that they don’t love me, and they straighten right out.” “Y’don’t say?” “Oh yes. So what’s worrying you?” asked Rarity. “You don’t think Big Macintosh is in danger, do you? He’s there working for Vinyl and Octavia. If I know anything about Neighpon, it is that they will not treat underlings poorly. The Kirin are very strict about it, and my Neighponnese buyers take great pains to ensure that my creations are not sewn by exploited ponies, because they’ll answer to the Kirin for it. And of course, all of my creations are horn-sewn by myself.” “And us,” suggested Applejack. “You know, when you’re openin’ a store or such-like.” Rarity frowned. “Ah. That. Yes, I’d better watch it. Fortunate for me the Neighponnese buyers weren’t around for that one. And thank you again for that help, I fear I was a real hoof-full…” “Aw, don’t worry,” said Applejack. “But it ain’t Big Macintosh I was thinkin’ about. You do realize our Braeburn’s gone off after him? That’s my second cousin. Just how deeply honest and trustworthy do you figure ol’ Braeburn is at heart?” “Ah,” said Rarity. “Erm. He’s… well, he’s a persuasive fellow, I’ll give him that.” “Meanin’ he’s fucking his way across Neighpon, huh?” “You said it,” said Rarity, “not I. Hmmm.” “And then there’s Rainbow Dash,” added Applejack. “Ah love her like life itself, but pree-cisely how responsible and law-abidin’ do you reckon my Rainbow is, at heart?” Rarity grimaced. “I’m sure she can outrun anything in Neighpon, Applejack. And Flight Lightning is very quick, too.” “Thus leavin’ behind Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle,” continued Applejack. “You see what I’m drivin’ at? Exactly how sensible and wise are Scoots and Sweetie, when things get a lil’ too frisky? Naw, I’ll rephrase that, their kind of frisky won’t bother Neighpon none, and your Sweetie’s a gentle soul. How gentle is Scootaloo when something riles her?” “Stop it!” protested Rarity. “You’re making it seem like they’re galloping to their dooms! They’re all good ponies and you’re being a worry-wart, I insist that they’re in no danger! Least of all Big Macintosh, but of the others, I’m sure the worst that could happen is they’ll be scolded and sent home!” “Uni says they killed a passel of pirates,” said Applejack darkly. “She never tole me that before, and she should have done.” “And why is that,” said Rarity, and, with a sharp glance at her companion, “…’Booties’?” Applejack whinnied in surprise, and fell back a step. “Who’s that?” Rarity’s gaze was calculating and amused. “I read, darling. I thought I should know what Sweetie Belle was reading. For such an honest pony, you do contain murky depths, don’t you? What does that word mean to you, darling? Oh, don’t pout. I quite understand. But am I reading too much into that? To put it bluntly, darling, were you the Dread Pirate Booties of legend? It seems hard to credit, but strangely plausible.” Applejack pouted worse. “One of ‘em. It’s a long story.” “If only I’d known when we were dating,” purred Rarity. “Thank fuck ya din’t,” said Applejack sincerely. “Awww!” said Rarity, trotted closer and gave Applejack a little kiss as they travelled. “You’ll always be the lovely mare, to me, darling. Never fear. I do expect the whole sordid story when you’re ready. It is a sordid story, is it not?” Applejack made a face. “First mate to Blackmane, screwed every which way by him and th’ crew, pirated a bunch of poor buggers… yeah, that’s sordid as shit, thanks for askin’.” Rarity’s eyes dilated. “Ahnn. You did stop, though, surely that’s the important thing?” “Stole his damn crew and damn near killed him and taught the whole crew to be good in the end,” said Applejack. “Ah hope they stuck to it, but I did my best.” “You see my point?” shot Rarity, quickly and earnestly. Applejack blinked, and nearly stopped in her tracks. “No, I don’t know what the fuck you’re even drivin’ at, Rarity. What?” The elegant unicorn didn’t even break stride. “The Kirin have met you, and our companion Uni, formerly known as Kabochaebi. I’ve read a little about that name, or more accurately heard about it by way of Neighponnese garment buyer gossip. Both of you were the most dreadful pirate-ponies, but your true natures came out, and the Kirin loved you for it. I’ll be quick, Sweet Apple Acres approaches.” “You do that,” said Applejack, her ears perked forward in great interest. “You’re a lovely pony,” said Rarity, “and Uni is lovely though also a smidge scary. She speaks of pirates who would not follow her lead and be good, and that they were killed by the Kirin. And so you imagine that our ponies might meet the same fate… but, Applejack, you stayed very good once you committed to it.” “Yeah?” Rarity shot her a sharp glance. “I wallowed in the bondage clubs of Fillydelphia for years, darling. I too found my way to pony goodness, especially when I ceased living an enormous lie and began to be more honest with the world around me, but I have seen things you haven’t. You’ve cried, on occasion, just getting a whiff of that darkness.” She dropped her gaze, suddenly bashful. “You’ve led me out of it, in a sense.” “Course I would,” said Applejack loyally. “Did,” corrected Rarity. “But don’t you see? I know wickedness better than you. I’ve known ponies like these pirates Uni speaks of. Please trust me. There’s nothing to fear. Our ponies are much too good at heart. They wouldn’t harm a fly, and need not fear any Kirin. I promise.” Applejack smiled. “Awww! Thank you, Rarity. Who knew your history as a perverted monster whippy-corn would come in so handy?” Rarity reared and cuffed her, and Applejack jumped away, laughing. Rarity smirked. “Behave! I never did subject you to the lash!” “Are you really still doin’ that stuff?” said Applejack. “No,” said Rarity. “Derpy wouldn’t understand. Doesn’t, rather.” “You’ll be fine,” said Applejack confidently. “Good for you.” “But you do see my point?” said Rarity. “This is a civilized world. Ponies take care of each other. Trust that things will be okay. Really! Fluttershy is a vampire, and dead, and it was okay. And Pinkie Pie was not at all herself for a while there, and even then civilization managed to return, and goodness held sway. Love is stronger than fear, so don’t fear. Trust, and wait.” They drew up outside Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack leaned over and gave Rarity a little kiss. “Ah will. I promise, I will. Thank you, Rarity.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “It’s not like our ponies will go to Neighpon and begin beating the inhabitants senseless, is it?” Uni gasped. “No, no! They mustn’t do anything like that!” “They won’t,” said Applejack confidently. “Here we are! Diamond works pretty late addin’ up all them figures and things. Apple Bloom is probably finishin’ up with the farm ponies and it’ll be dinnertime soon.” She winked. “We kin make you apple turnip cakes. It might take me a while to talk Granny into it.” Uni salivated, then wiped her mouth and looked determined. “No! Save them all. For my exclusive distribution. In foreign countries,” she added shrewdly. “Who’s that?” called a weary, fillyish voice. Uni froze, her eyes widening. “I said, who’s that?” called the voice. Diamond Tiara was indeed at work, but her hearing worked quite well also, and she could tell immediately that it wasn’t just the usual ponies come to dinner. Uni’s accent was like nothing heard in Ponyville: Vinyl Scratch had a strong Fillydelphian accent, with not a trace of Neighpon. Inside the house, where Diamond had set up an office, youthful hooves galloped towards the visitors. She emerged, blinking into the sunset, looking cranky. “I thought I heard…” She stopped, eyes locked on Uni. “YOU!” Applejack and Rarity turned, to see Uni at bay, looking just as appalled. Her teeth were bared, and her ears back. “YOU!” retorted Uni, and scuffed the ground aggressively with a forehoof. “What are you doing here?” Diamond’s eyes narrowed, alarmingly. Her mouth curved in a hard little grin, but there seemed no humor in it. “What do YOU think I’m doing here?” “You are the negotiator for Rich Import/Export!” accused Uni. “And you,” said Diamond Tiara, “are Uni, wholesale food buyer from Neighpon.” Her grin got colder. “Right? Just a simple earth pony? Nothing further to say about yourself?” Uni’s eyes flared. Her teeth bared worse. “Uhhh, ya might not want to tease this pony,” cautioned Applejack, “and we already had the secret-names conversation, Diamond, don’t be frettin’ her with that…” “Sh!” said Diamond. Her eyes hadn’t left Uni’s. “So, ‘Uni’, I can guess why you’re here. What do you have to say about that?” Uni’s bared teeth took the form of a fierce grin. “I am here to make a deal with Sweet Apple Acres. I don’t have to tell you a thing more than that, Diamond Tiara. I am here with Applejack, and must speak with Granny Smith about something she’s invented. Go away at once, or the consequences will be dire when next we meet!” Applejack and Rarity stared in horror, but before they could react, a new head poked around the door-frame. “Some trouble?” said Apple Bloom. She looked tired, after a hard day of work as Boss Mare of Sweet Apple Acres, but completely unworried all the same. Diamond Tiara trotted over, and kissed her. “No, honey. Don’t worry, it’s fine. I’ll handle it.” “All righty,” said Apple Bloom, and went back into the house, where the smells of dinner were beginning to waft enticingly out to the visitors. Diamond turned to face Uni again. Uni’s face was a picture of horror. “That’s who runs Sweet Apple Acres now,” said Diamond smugly. “Since you obviously didn’t know.” “Why would you say I did not know?” countered Uni. “And guess who is her marefriend?” added Diamond. The news rocked Uni, but she rallied gamely. “That is nice. I am happy for you, horrible little horse. Now summon her and please give us privacy,” said Uni, “because we must…” “AND,” continued Diamond Tiara, her eyes sparkling, “the business manager for Sweet Apple Acres.” Uni’s jaw dropped. For a moment the raging Mantis Shrimp looked out of her eyes, and Applejack and Rarity trembled. Then, Uni glanced imploringly at Applejack, as if begging for some kind of respite, some hint that it was all a big joke. Instead, Applejack sadly nodded at Uni, confirming it. Uni gulped. “Fuck you,” she told Diamond Tiara. Diamond’s eyes twinkled with twice as much glee. “Fuck you right back!” she retorted. “Fuck you twice!” returned Uni, stamping forward. “Fuck you eleven times!” retaliated Diamond Tiara. Uni gasped. Applejack and Rarity were speechless. “And all your crazy mathematics with you!” added Diamond Tiara, herself stamping forward to confront Uni nose to nose. The world seemed to stop… …until both Diamond and Uni burst into wild, raucous laughter, and hugged. “Nooo!” wailed Uni, giggling. “My horrible fate! Tell me why I should not go home right now?” “Oh no you don’t!” laughed Diamond Tiara. “You have to come to dinner, and tell me what in Equestria you’re after this time! Granny made oat cakes! We’ll feed you oat cakes!” “How many oat cakes?” asked Uni. Diamond smirked. “Eleven, of course. You have to promise you’ll do what we say in exchange for eleven oat cakes. I have it in writing.” She whacked Uni on the ear with a little hoof. Applejack eeked. “Settle down, you two! Diamond, you shouldn’t be roughhousing with her like that, I’m jes’ saying…” “Come inside!” called Granny Smith. “Supper’s ready!” Smirking, Diamond Tiara served her greatest rival oat cakes. “Oooone…” she said, placing an oat cake on her plate. Then, moving in mockingly with another, “…eeeeeeleveeenn.” Applejack boggled at Diamond, and scratched her head. “I’ll grant you, I’m not much for the fancy mathematics. On the other hoof, I kin still count, and I thought you’d mastered that too, Diamond Tiara.” Diamond giggled, smirking up a storm, as Apple Bloom gave her a skeptical look. “Maybe I can refresh your lil’ pony skills,” offered Applejack. “Ya started off just fine. Oooone… an’ then it goes, twoooo…” “Depends who you ask,” replied Diamond Tiara, helping herself to oat cakes. Granny Smith boggled. “Y’don’t say! Well, missy, around these parts I’m here to tell ya two follows one, just as sure as zap-apple harvests follow jumping around in bunny suits…” Uni looked inquiringly at her, then at Diamond Tiara, whom she seemed very comfortable with. “Don’t ask,” said Diamond dismissively. “Do they even have bunny suits in Neighpon?” said Rarity. “Not for that reason,” said Uni meekly. “Okay, I’m teasin’,” admitted Applejack, “but it ain’t fair, not lettin’ me in on the joke. Ah know you can count, Diamond Tiara, so what’s th’ deal?” Diamond snickered. “A one time deal, that’s what. You might ask Kabochaebi here about that.” They looked. Uni blinked back, meekly, without expression. “But nothing would happen,” said Diamond, “because she won’t tell you.” She sipped some water. “So I will.” “Is that all right with Kab… with Uni?” said Rarity. “Oh, thank you, Granny Smith, one will suffice.” “Y’sure?” “Derpy is cooking us a roast rutabaga,” explained Rarity, “I can’t stay long but I also can’t wait to hear this story…” Diamond Tiara cleared her throat. “I’d just begun handling international trade for my father, when I met THIS little demon. Innocent looking, isn’t she?” “You never can tell with pirates,” said Applejack innocently. “Go on.” “I shall. She came to set up a trade agreement: we would purchase a small number of olive barrels from Whinnytian farmers. My father warned me that the price ought to come between three and eight bits per barrel, since we were contracting with the farms directly through an intermediary, not through retail. I’d never dealt with Whinnytians before, but I knew a little bit about their history and I was charmed. I couldn’t wait to learn more. And the intermediary was this small, quiet Neighponnese pony. There was something about her, something to the eyes, but you never saw such a humble, quiet pony. She seemed almost shy to be talking to me, even though I was just a filly.” They all looked at Uni. There was nothing to her eyes, not at the moment. She gazed calmly at her oat cakes, serene as a rock in shade. “So,” Diamond continued, “she began to explain the different deals the farmers offered. She was their representative. She took a pencil, and wrote out their respective prices, and put it down to explain why that was. Nine bits per barrel, and that farmer had very rich and fine lands. Six bits, and that farmer was recovering from a difficult year: the previous year, his quality had suffered. Five bits, and the farmer in question was very old fashioned and insisted on selling at the prices he’d used when he was a colt. She explained that the farmers of this type never came with large crops, but that she would not offer a crop that didn’t at least produce the quantities we required. Seven bits, and she discouraged me from this farmer, explaining that the higher price did not always correspond to greater quality: higher prices corresponded to the ability to offer many barrels in a consistent way. Olives, she said, were all very similar when they came from the valleys of Whinnyce, where old fashioned farmers plied their trade generation after generation, back into antiquity.” She glared cordially at Uni, who mostly didn’t smile. “And then,” said Diamond Tiara, “she took her pencil, and she wrote two downstrokes: one, one. Or, I I? They were larger, as if the numbers were different. And I looked at her, and she said: In ancient Etrotscan numerals, I I meant two.” Applejack’s eyes widened. Apple Bloom began to grin. Diamond Tiara blushed, just a tiny amount. She continued, “She didn’t say a word. She just watched me, as I put together the pieces about the ancient Whinnytians, and I knew their history went back to the ancient Etrotscans, and I’d learned about the II and the V and the LC, all that stuff. And about the old fashioned farmers who couldn’t produce much, but worked the way they did of old. And the difference between quality and mass production. And I just reached out and shook her hoof. Father was going to be so proud of me. I’d interpreted the hints of this intermediary, and I knew we wouldn’t require quantities beyond what this old artisanal farmer could produce, so I signed right off on a deal to buy not less than two and not more than five barrels of exceptional olives a year over the course of three years…” Diamond Tiara sagged. “For eleven bits a barrel.” Apple Bloom cracked up, and gave Diamond a kiss. Diamond stared wryly into her oat cakes. Uni sat impassively, head bowed. “Now jes’ a consarned minute!” argued Granny Smith. “She had ye by the whosey-whatzey! You mean to tell me, you went back to Filthy Rich and he had you pay eleven bits per barrel? That’s highway robbery!” Diamond glanced at Granny. “Oh, don’t worry. I learned my lesson. In fact, Father honored the deal in part so I would remember. I think he was glad she taught me that lesson, at a relatively low cost. The olives were excellent, you know. True Whinnytian olives of the very highest quality.” “But…” began Granny Smith. “She never once said that wasn’t an eleven. She didn’t even say the farmer was offering a price of two bits per barrel. She wrote eleven, and told me that in ancient Etrotscan it meant two. Nobody does business in Etrotscan numerals. I had only myself to blame,” said Diamond Tiara. The ponies considered this. Applejack frowned. “Still… seems like kind of a harsh deal…” “You think so?” said Diamond, lifting an elegant eyebrow. “Listen to this. Uni! You remember that day.” “I remember many things,” said Uni softly. “What would have happened if I’d asked what that number was? Specifically, if I’d said, ‘is that number in Etrotscan numerals’?” Uni didn’t even blink. “I would have said, that bill is NOT in Etrotscan numerals.” “Then why’d you…” began Applejack. “Why would you say that, Uni?” demanded Diamond Tiara, chin held high. “Because,” said Uni, “I am a good pony.” She shrugged a tiny shrug. “You did not ask.” “Now see here…” said Applejack, and then stopped. She made a face. “Huh!” “When you saw her,” observed Rarity, “the two of you feigned terrible hostility, but then you hugged and we are enjoying both of your company. Diamond, do you like this pony? Uni, do you like Diamond?” Diamond and Uni glanced at each other, startled, expressionless. Then, silly grins began to spread over both their faces, until the answer was obvious: by all appearances, they adored one another. “Diamond Poop is best pain in the ass!” cried Uni merrily. “Kabochaebi… and you’d better believe I found out all about her, cost me five weeks allowance for my spies… is the most delightful monster in the whole world!” added Diamond Tiara. “What happened to the farmer?” asked Applejack. “Did he have trouble comin’ up with them super-excellent olives?” Diamond blinked. “No, of course not. He was one of the high-volume producers who could offer ten times the volume we started out at, with unfailing quality at a high price. By the time we renegotiated the contract we returned to him because our volume had expanded to where he was by far the best option. We do business with that farm to this day… at eight bits a barrel.” The ponies contemplated this. Then, Apple Bloom lifted an eyebrow. “Diamond Poop? Seriously?” Uni smirked, a hint of Kabochaebi peeking out. “Because she would poop diamond, like her name. Because she is TIGHT ASS!” “Uni, really!” gasped Rarity. “Rude!” Diamond had gone red. She wouldn’t look at Apple Bloom, who was smirking harder and harder. Applejack got it, and began to blush as well. Uni glanced around, and for the first time seemed dismayed. “Oh! Then we should move on to business. The wonderful Apple Turnip Cakes with salt and sour!” “We’ll do that,” said Diamond, “thank you, Uni. On to business!” “Yep,” said Apple Bloom with satisfaction. Diamond Tiara twitched, but didn’t whack her, and eventually the blush faded. Before it was quite gone, elements of smug had joined it, but Diamond carefully avoided further reference to pains, tightness, and asses all the same. “I wish to negotiate exclusive rights to distribute Granny Smith’s Apple Turnip Cakes,” said Uni, “to be defined as the recipe Applejack brought to Neighpon, sold wholesale, packaged in any way that retains quality as well as the ship journey did, and produced with substantially the same ingredients and balances of flavor as the first batch we bought.” Diamond Tiara blinked. “Bought?” she said, and Uni winced. “Yeah, she bought all we had,” said Applejack. “Never saw the like.” Uni seemed to be burning holes in her oat cakes with Kabochaebi’s eyes. Diamond Tiara smirked at the sight, turning in a leisurely way to Applejack. “For how much?” asked Diamond, with the laziness of a circling shark. “Uhhh,” said Applejack, “I had about seventy of ‘em left.” “How…” “Ten thousand Canterlot bits,” said Applejack. Rarity’s jaw dropped, as did Granny Smith’s. Apple Bloom began grinning wider and wider. Granny banged the table with a geriatric hoof, and cried, “Woohoo!” Uni grumbled, “Mugen, you dumbass,” into the table, refusing to meet anypony’s eyes for the moment. Applejack turned to her, distressed. “Ah’m sorry! It’s makin’ ya sad. It ain’t worth it?” “Careful,” cautioned Diamond, but Uni was considering. She made a face, and appeared to do mental calculations, and screwed up her brow in concentration… and then visibly relaxed. “It is worth it,” said Uni. “Yes! Smiles for everypony. Ten thousand bits for seventy, as promised. My sailors will transport your cakes for you, to Neighpon.” “For a price?” demanded Diamond, shrewdly. “Of course,” smiled Uni, glints of the Mantis Shrimp peeking out. “Sounds like we can afford it!” said Applejack, but Diamond waved her quiet. “We’re not done,” she said curtly. “We could transport those ourselves and you know it. I’ll concede that you have the shipping, Uni, obviously. There’s some benefit to hoofing off our responsibility when it leaves Manehattan’s shores…” Uni nodded, peacefully. Diamond’s eyes narrowed to see her regaining that serenity. “All right, Kaebi-chaebi-baby,” said Diamond, “let’s have it. How much? I think as actual freight we could fit… oh, hundreds of cakes into the hold of a ship. What’s your price?” “You know my history, Diamond-poop,” said Uni wryly. “Yes, I do. I know you can do shipping,” said Diamond. “What worries me is, I can see you thinking.” “Two deals,” said Uni. “Either a shipping charge of one thousand four hundred bits for each fully laden journey from Manehattan to Neighpon…” “That’s high,” said Diamond. “Nopony and nothing interferes with my ship or my crew,” said Uni calmly. “We assume all liability from the shore of Manehattan and out.” “That helps,” said Diamond. “But that’s close to twice the usual freight voyage.” Uni shrugged. “We must travel empty from Neighpon, to pick up the Apple Turnip Cakes.” “No way,” said Diamond. “I know you. You’ll be running cargo the other way. I don’t have to pay for an empty run when you’re already getting paid to make the run to Manehattan.” Uni lifted an eyebrow. “You are offering to contract with us to import goods from Neighpon, guaranteeing that load each time?” Diamond’s eyes widened. “Did I say that? No way! We’re selling you guys apple turnip cakes, not buying stuff!” Uni gave a tiny shrug. “Then as far as you know, we journey to Manehattan always empty. One thousand four hundred for each fully laden trip to cover all eventualities, take it or leave it.” Diamond’s eyes narrowed again. “Or?” “Yes?” “You said two deals, and you’ve only mentioned one.” Uni did not smile. “You also said fully laden trip,” added Diamond, “and I need you to…” “Four hundred cakes or more,” said Uni. “Naturally, you’ll do better with more. We don’t have to make trips carrying less.” “That’s fair,” said Diamond Tiara, “we can do that. So what’s deal two?” Uni collected her thoughts. “One thousand NINE hundred bits, as one down payment, for my ownership percentage in the boat used to transport Apple Turnip Cakes. Then you assume responsibility for shipping, and pay no additional charge above the ten thousand bits for seventy,” said Uni briskly. “I would ask that if you select this option, we renegotiate to… eighty cakes, for ten thousand bits? Eighty Apple Turnip Cakes, specifically.” The Sweet Apple Acres ponies stared at her, thinking. “Hmm,” said Applejack. “You know, I’m a pretty good sailor. If we handle it right, I ain’t sure the security would be that much less. Though I’m not sure this is a great time to be goin’ to sea. For me, I mean.” “Oh, no!” said Rarity. “I mean, I agree, we needn’t say why here, but trust me on this, you won’t want to be at sea. Dear me, such an idea! You’ll have to get another captain.” “Down payment?” demanded Diamond, staring at Uni, who sat impassively. “I need more information. Never mind your down payment. Forget that. What’s your TOTAL figure for…” “One thousand nine hundred bits total, for my ownership percentage in the boat used to transport Apple Turnip Cakes,” said Uni quickly. “Deal? Then you assume responsibility for shipping.” She stuck out her hoof. Diamond Tiara didn’t react. She had a fierce little smile on, and she wasn’t looking at anypony. She seemed to be hardly breathing, she was thinking so hard. Then, one eye twitched. “Oh, you,” she said, reverently. “Diamond?” inquired Uni. Diamond shook herself. She turned to Uni. “Used?” “Nopony is selling a brand new boat, Diamond Tiara,” said Uni, meekly. “Oh no. Oh no no no,” said Diamond. She couldn’t stop smiling. “Uni. In your sentence, are you saying ‘to be used’? To be used, to transport apple turnip cakes?” Uni froze, expressionless. “No, Diamond.” “Then, are you saying, ‘the boat already used to transport apple turnip cakes’, Uni?” A hesitation. “Yes, Diamond.” Unexpectedly, Diamond was banging the table with her hoof, grinning like a maniac, tossing her mane in glee. “Whut the hay?” demanded Granny Smith. “Yeah, what th’ heck is goin’ on here?” asked Applejack, visibly dismayed. “Listen. Listen and learn,” grinned Diamond Tiara. “Uni. My dear Uni, so clever. What boat WAS used to transport apple turnip cakes?” “We sailed back in the boat,” said Uni, plainitively. “Ah don’t see what you’re drivin’ at…” said Applejack. “That’s the boat you sailed in,” said Diamond triumphantly. “What was its provenance?” “Huh?” “Where’d you get it?” “Manehattan,” said Applejack, confused. Across the table from her, Rarity’s eyes widened suddenly. Diamond couldn’t stop grinning. “Did you buy or rent it from Kabochaebi? Uni, here?” “We sailed back together! But naw, it was some other feller! Ah don’t know who he got it from?” Diamond turned on Uni. “Restate the deal.” “One thousand four hundred for each fully laden trip of not less than four hundred cakes, that would be more than fifty-seven thousand bits of profit for you minus the one thousand four hundred for shipping giving you nearly fifty-six thousand gross, and we assume all liability for…” “No no no,” interrupted Diamond. “The other deal, Uni. Go on. We’re waiting.” They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Uni gave a little, defeated shrug. “One thousand nine hundred bits, as one down payment and total sum, for my ownership percentage in the boat used to transport Apple Turnip Cakes. Then you assume responsibility for shipping, and pay no additional charge above the ten thousand bits for seventy cakes. No minimum shipment.” “The boat that was used?” “The boat that was used,” conceded Uni. “And you want it renegotiated to eighty cakes, because you’re losing so much on the deal?” pressed Diamond Tiara. Uni gave a little defeated wave of her hoof. “Nah.” “Ah still don’t see what all this foofaraw is about,” said Applejack. Apple Bloom’s eyes widened. Across the table, Rarity had her head in her hooves, but it was difficult to tell whether she was crying or laughing. Diamond turned to Uni. “Uni, what percentage of that boat do you own?” The little, rueful halfsmile she gave was all Kabochaebi. “Zero,” said Kabochaebi. Applejack’s eyes widened in horror. Apple Bloom beamed at Diamond, filled with gratitude and pride in her mate. “We’ll take deal ONE,” said Diamond Tiara, and they clacked hooves to seal it. And it became obvious: Rarity was laughing, laughing until she nearly fell off her chair.
Green BalloonsThe skies over Neighpon were crystal blue, almost too perfect to be real. Colorful pegasi in pointy costumes zipped across the sky: patrolling, but not finding monsters, weird or otherwise. When they passed over a certain valley, their ears turned, and they soared as if finding thermals over the small natural amphitheater. They pirouetted, in pairs or alone, keeping still and quiet in their meditative flight, so they could listen. Far below, Octavia didn’t pay any attention to them. She didn’t even see the exquisite valley before her. She was practicing, with perhaps a little bit of composing… and her bow coaxed out the sounds of sweet loneliness and yearning, for she missed her Stout Heart. He was her companion, as well as her libido. And she was Octavia, so without a second thought she labored for minutes that stretched into hours and turned even her most intimate feelings into the grist for performance. She was Octavia, so she was the music… and the music demanded to speak. Overhead, some of the silently circling pegasi dripped teardrops, which she mistook for impending rain. A comfortable trot away, Big Macintosh and Vinyl Scratch rested on a hillside, watching the distant pegasi circle. “They like that,” said Vinyl. “They’re sentimental. Maybe it’s a part of them being so fierce.” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh. “You wouldn’t think so. When I was a little filly, I saw two of ‘em fight an aerial duel. You never saw so many Kirin in your whole life. These two, they had some kinda dispute about territory, or a stallion, or territory AND a stallion, and they wouldn’t make nice. They did one pass, top speed. Neither of them swerved, and they both got crippled when they hit. It was gross, all feathers fluttering down, and, um, a body part…” “Mares?” said Big Macintosh curiously. “Nah, they were both stallions. Sometimes it’s worse when the gay stallions fight. They can be really ruthless.” Big Macintosh winced, a shadow darkening his face. “Anyway,” said Vinyl, “the Kirin were right there. Neither of ‘em died, and it was the weirdest thing: they seemed to relax after that. It was like they turned a page on their old lives. Which of course they did, they stopped being warriors ‘cos they stopped having working wings. The Kirin were kind of pissed off about it, at least the younger ones. The older Kirin seemed to take it in stride?” “…Eyup,” confirmed Big Macintosh, distracted. “Anyway it’s all part of how they are,” said Vinyl. “Romantics. I’m not surprised at our pegasi hanging around Tavi to listen to her music.” “Eyup.” “Instead, I’m surprised at you,” said Vinyl Scratch. Big Macintosh jolted. He glanced at her in alarm, but the famous DJ wasn’t even looking at him, and didn’t react. “Did Ah do somethin’ wrong, ma’am?” asked Big Macintosh. “Ah don’t mean no offense. Ah don’t know y’alls Neighponny ways. And what I did see, uh, uh, well it’s a caution.” “It’s not that,” said Scratch, gazing into the sky. “Then whut?” A quick flick of the eyes behind the rosy shades. “What’s bothering you, Big Macintosh?” Big Macintosh pouted. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” “Hey, remember who I’m roomies with,” said Scratch. “When Octavia doesn’t want to talk, she’s a wall. You might also remember what I do for a living.” Big Macintosh’s ears quirked. “Loud thumpin’ music tells ya what’s botherin’ ponies?” That got him a glare. “I can tell by how you move,” said Scratch. “We’re riding in a cart behind you, and moving the cart’s your job every day. I can see your gait, and the way you look around at stuff. You’ve been really excited, and I get that: it’s a beautiful country. But you’re getting worried. I want to know why.” Big Macintosh stared at her for a while, unhurriedly. “Ma’am…” “I knew it! Out with it, come on.” “Ma’am… mah family don’t talk about their feelin’s either. Jes so’s you know.” “Well, we’re miles and miles away from them, so now’s your chance…” “Ah’ll tell you mine if you tell me your’n,” said Big Macintosh. “Ain’t fair to be pickin’ on just me.” Scratch blinked. She lowered her shades, peered over them. “What?” “You’re ridin’ me so hard on account of you’re avoidin’ somethin’ your own self,” said Big Macintosh. “You been ridin’ Octavia too, for the last couple days. I reckon we both would surely like to know what crawled up your… uhh, I mean, we’d sure like to know what’s th’ matter.” The ruby eyes were wide and hurt… but then, rather than going tearful, they suddenly scrunched closed and Scratch made a face. “Shit,” she said. “Sorry,” said Big Macintosh. “Anyways, Ah’ll tell you mine if you fess up. Uhh… I guess I nailed it? It’s that or you just turned mean, and I honestly cain’t see that in ya.” “Yeah, thanks,” said Scratch grumpily. “No, seriously, I do mean it, and it’s good that you said so. Tavi always lets me go sour for a while and she really shouldn’t, she’s way too nice sometimes. I… guess I can tell you. It’s kind of personal and business combined, and I… listen, you go first. Okay? I don’t think you could possibly understand what I gotta do when we reach Chuo-sho province, so you have to give me time to explain it. To somepony who’s not in show business, that is. I mean, you are but you aren’t, you don’t have the same responsibilities. Not that mine is exactly a respons… yeah, give me time to think, okay? I have to frame this in a way that’ll make sense to you.” Big Macintosh blinked. “You figure I ain’t smart enough? That’s not nice, Vinyl Scratch.” “No, it’s me. Being not smart but way too fuckin’ ambitious… seriously, can you go first? I promise I won’t take it out on you guys anymore.” “It ain’t that bad,” reassured Big Macintosh. “Remember Ah’m used to gettin’ bossed by mares, it don’t bother me. Jes’ seemed unusual, comin’ from you.” “I wasn’t that bad?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Naw.” “Thanks, I’m glad of that. You might have caught me before I made Octavia unhappy, and if so I really owe ya one. Consider these well-tuned ears all yours, for the purposes of listening to your troubles. I’m not sure what could be troubling you since you’re travelling through beautiful Neighpon while fucking random mares at nearly every stop… a lot of stallions would consider that the best vacation ever, so it’s unsettling to see you worried and restless. Are you afraid they’re gonna come after you?” “I never worried that before,” said Big Macintosh. “Should I be?” “Nah. Even less than in Ponyville. The Kirin take care of all that. And traveling musicians are a little like warriors… we’re supposed to be wild and free and screwing the townsponies.” “You ain’t,” said Big Macintosh. Scratch winced. “Not yet. I told you, you first. What’s going on? I promise I’ll explain my thing, it’s just… complicated.” Big Macintosh sighed. “Yeah. So’s mine, I reckon. Ah’m in love, Miss Vinyl Scratch. An’ she’s in love with me… but I got to find her, and that ain’t easy.” Scratch blinked. “Find her? Here? Since when did you meet a Neighponnese pony?” Big Macintosh’s pout was hurt, truculent. Vinyl Scratch gawked, uncomprehending, and then her eyes widened in realization… Braeburn skulked through the long grass like a snake, barely making a sound. If he stuck to the less garden-y areas, he reckoned, he was in with a chance. He was certain he’d heard Big Macintosh, Vinyl Scratch and Octavia talking about how they would head for the capital up North. So long as he got there without encountering any more of them ninja pegasus ponies, he’d… “Eeee!” Before even thinking, Braeburn had reacted. He pounced, pinning down the unexpected shrieking obstacle in his path, gagging the critter with a firm hoof so it couldn’t scream out and call the pegasuses. And then he looked, to see what sort of captive he had. And didn’t it just have to be an adorable Neighponnese earth pony mare? “Ah don’t wanna hurt you,” he muttered into her pinned-back, terrified ear. “You were jes’ in the wrong place at th’ wrong time. First, you’re gonna be quiet. Nod if ya understand me.” She nodded, frantically. “What th’ buck are you doin’ out here sneakin’ around in the long grass, anyhoof?” “Mmph,” she replied, apologetically. Braeburn rolled his eyes. “All righty then. Next lesson: when ya do talk, talk quiet-like. I’mma turn your head around a lil’, look me in the eyes and nod if you underst… sweet Celestia!” Part of that had gone well. She’d turned her head around as he wished, and there was no sign of trouble there. She’d looked him in the eyes and even nodded… but that turned out to be more than he’d bargained for. The mysterious grass-sneaking mare was herself the color of grass, with a very short-cropped blonde mane, and had lovely coppery-gold eyes. But they were slitted, like those of a snake. Braeburn froze. His gaze crept lower to where the back of his hoof still covered her mouth, his fetlocks muffling her sounds. “Do ya got fangs?” was all he could think to say. Tears instantly filled those creepy eyes, and she shook her head fiercely. Braeburn thought he could feel her lower lip quivering against his fetlock. He sighed. “Okay, I’m gonna let go, and we’re gonna talk more nicely. Might not be my smartest decision, but please don’t cry, that’s all I’m sayin’, ma’am.” He released her. She continued staring at him, transfixed, taking in his scruffy cowpony visage, the signs of strain and weariness, the dark circles under his eyes. Braeburn, in turn, studied her. Those eyes were something else, but in every other respect she seemed… no, there was something about the skin. He couldn’t feel it with his hoof or fetlock, but he could see it: her coat was odd, too. And her mane didn’t seem to extend down her neck in the usual way… and she was awful slender, and though her rump looked basically ponylike in the manner of some of the high-fashion Canterlot unicorns, Braeburn thought he could see a difference in her tail, as well. It wasn’t quite a Kirin tail, but it was bare up at the dock, as if taking that fashion trend for wrapping up the dock and going a step further, to actual depilation. Braeburn realized she was still staring at him submissively, even though his jaw had dropped in astonishment. Of course, he was a pretty formidable-looking character after days of brush-sneaking and foraging, and he’d certainly jumped her and covered her mouth while pinning her down: there wasn’t much more he could to do be dominant short of nipping her butt. And that might or might not be a sensible tactic, he thought. “What are you?” he asked. Those coppery-gold eyes filled with tears again. She gulped. “I’m a little pony.” “You’re a little SCARY,” corrected Braeburn, and then his ears laid back, hard. The strange little cutie’s face twisted, and she heaved a deep breath and released it in a bawl of miserable woe. She got out about half a second of “WAAAA…” and then it was converted firmly to ‘mph!’ and Braeburn had covered her mouth again. The difference was, this time he was frantically cuddling and petting her at the same time. “No, baby, no, Ah’m sorry, don’t cry, especially don’t cry so dang loud, okay?” stammered Braeburn. “I won’t say that no more, I promise, deep breaths, all right cutie?” He stroked her, nuzzled her neck, pleaded. “It’s all gonna be okay, if you jes holy Princess patooties what the hay is up with your skin?” That didn’t help at all. Braeburn continued to hold her and keep her quiet, while he thought over the trajectory of his overtures. “Naw,” he said. “It’s beautiful skin, ma’am. Soft as any pony I ever met, and you know them teeny teeny tiny light green scales, it’s real perty.” She wriggled, not so much to escape as just a heave of tragic dismay in Braeburn’s grip. Her elegant little muscles played under the silky-soft but distinctly scaly hide. Braeburn was reminded of a fish, except those were cold and she was warm… well, not really as warm as one would expect, if he was honest, but all the same she was a heck of a lot warmer than a fish. Cool-blooded? He looked her in those eyes, as a tear dripped down her face. “Okay, you’re a pony,” he said. “You’ll forgive me for sayin’ you’re a special kind of pony, but if that’s how you want it, m’lady, pony you are. Happens I’m a pony myself. A pony on a mission. And we got a lil’ problem, ‘cos now you know I’m here. Can I let you go without you cryin’ and bellerin’?” She looked puzzled, but all the same she nodded, and Braeburn released his muffling fetlock once more. “What is ‘bellering’?” asked his captive, wrinkling her brow in thought. “Jes’ don’t do it no more. Who are you?” asked Braeburn. She wiped tears with the back of a hoof. Braeburn saw there were no fetlocks on her, just more of that mysterious scale right down to her hooves, almost right to the edge. “I am Subrii,” she said. “Please don’t say mean things? I really am a little pony. I come from a village around here. Our Kirin went through sort of a phase, with us…” “An’ started foolin’ around with your eyes and such?” She gave him a tearful glare. “No! It was my Mom fooling around. Lots of the maress did. I’m still a little pony. The Kirin will scold you for hurting my feelings!” Then, she gasped. Braeburn’s eyes burned, pinned her to the spot as surely as when he grabbed her. “That cain’t happen,” he said, with a chill in his voice, a dangerous cool. “We gonna have a lil’ conversation about that lil’ idea there.” Subrii quivered. She’d never seen anypony be so sexy and dominant without even moving a muscle. “I’m sorry!” she squeaked. “I’ll tell them not to sscold you!” “You stay right there!” “I’m sorry! I will! Are you leaving? I’ll wait!” Braeburn facehoofed, but only for a moment, and without obscuring his sharp gaze. “Ah’m going to explain a few things. I reckon it’s time I asked a few things too, Miss Pony. Firstly, what are you doin’ sneaking around in the long grass?” She gulped. “I’m Subrii, I told you. I’m not just any pony, though thank you for ssaying that much, I’m a nice pony and I have a name…” Subrii let out a little squee. Braeburn’s eyes had narrowed. Somehow, he’d managed to send an erotic jolt through her from just that. She instantly ceased that line of argument, and meekly answered. “I like the long grass.” “Open your mouth,” said Braeburn. Subrii did, squeezing her eyes shut, wiping another tear. There was a pause of just a moment. “Thankee,” said Braeburn, his tone more gentle. He cleared his throat. “You weren’t foolin’, there ain’t no… f-thingys in there, jes’ ordinary pony teeth.” Subrii sniffled. “I’m a pony. I told you sso.” Braeburn’s gaze was wry, even amused. “Yeah you did. But between that speech impediment, and that tongue, you got some explainin’ to do, all the same.” Her eyes flew wide. “What’s the matter with my tongue?” “Stick it all th’ way out, missy.” Subrii shut her mouth tight, blushing, her delicate little scales ruffling up on her cheekbones. Her lower lip quivered. “That’s jes’ my guesswork, Subrii,” said Braeburn, “but anypony can see it’s pointy. I’ll give you one thing, though, I was expectin’ it was forked. You got that goin’ for you.” She pouted, not meeting his eyes. She glanced up, sulky. “Thank you for using my name,” she said, sticking out her lower lip in maximum adorableness. “I am sso a pony. So there.” “You’re a snake-pony,” said Braeburn. “Never saw anythin’ like you.” For a moment, Subrii’s eyes widened. Her lip quivered, but then outrage won out. Rather than cry and wail, she stuck her tongue out at him. It was Braeburn’s turn to eye-widen. She was more than a hoof’s length away from his muzzle, but all the same, she’d glared at him and tickled the tip of his muzzle with her tongue. He’d guessed right. Immediately, he moved another hoof-length away. “Do that again!” She made a face and glared more, clamping her mouth tight shut. “Mm-mm!” Braeburn took off his battered hat. “If you knew, if you had any idea how many mares would love your lil’ snakey butt forever the instant they saw that…” Subrii glowered. “Sso what? I already know that. I like males.” “Well then, how many times kin you wrap it around a…” “I wish they wouldn’t get that idea,” complained Subrii. “What fun is that?” “Depends,” teased Braeburn, “on who ya asssssk.” She stared at him. He smirked at her. A matching expression began to quirk the corner of her mouth. Braeburn tenderly booped her nose with his hoof. “Gotcha.” Subrii giggled. “So now that you know my ssecrets, what is your name? That’s only fair. Mean teasing sstallion.” Braeburn gave her a look. “We ain’t done, Subrii. You like the long grass, you said. Ah kin see that. But why? What are you doin’ in the long grass, slinkie-pie?” “I told you! I like it. I roam far and wide.” “Doin’ what?” “Watching…” Subrii cowered, a bit. She couldn’t get used to the mood-flips of this wild stallion. It wasn’t that he randomly had fits of rage… it was that she’d given the wrong answer. He’d flipped from seductive and flirty, to cold and grim, and she could hardly bear it. “Subrii, are you a spy for the Kirin?” Her lip quivered madly, and then she was clinging to him, sobbing, trying to explain. “I’m ssorry! Not really! I only wanted to be like the pegasssusses, you know? I just want to matter! There isn’t a place for me, not outsside my village! The Kirin do their besst, my village is kind, what is sso wrong with me wanting to help the Kirin, finding monsterss and invaderss and guiding them to help? I’m not a pegassuss, I can’t fight like them, I only wanted to matter and to help all the poniesss…” “Whoa there,” said Braeburn, and his voice was gentle again. He was cuddling her back. She blinked away tears, looked up, those spooky slitted eyes dilating until they looked almost like those of any distressed mare. “Yess?” “All that’s fine, honey,” said Braeburn. “You’re a sweet girl.” He nuzzled her neck. “An’ the most unique cutie I ever did see, what’s more. Deep breath. It’s gonna be okay.” Dutifully, Subrii took a deep breath. She trembled, delicately. “Sso when I bring you to our nice Kirin…” “Nope,” said Braeburn gently. Her ears laid back. “But… you’re a strange foreign pony. And I found you ssneaking. And it will be fine, they will know what to do…” “Ah know what to do,” said Braeburn. Subrii blinked at him, so off balance she couldn’t even ask anything else. She gazed up, wide-eyed, and Braeburn’s eyes held her fast as he spoke. “Subrii, I’m here on a mission. I ain’t staying… least I don’t think I am. I may have to. I’ve lost love, Subrii, and I can’t stand it, and so long as I live I must cross the hills and valleys of this derned pretty country and seek my love. You won’t see me again… but one way or another, you’re gonna let me go, and I will continue my quest. It’s kind of a relief to tell somepony this. Never told nopony before, Ah jes’ went. Din’t let nopony stop me… an’ you won’t stop me either. So I’m afraid you won’t be bringin’ me to your nice Kirin. I got other plans.” She sank into his burning, glistening eyes, her dainty mouth hanging open in awe. She quivered. She gulped. “I love the Kirin. I’m sure they will understand…” “Can’t be riskin’ that,” said Braeburn, his eyes grim and sad. Subrii gulped, her heart giving a lurch. He was so romantic and dangerous and sexy, and dangerous, and oh yes–dangerous. “Are you going to hurt me?” she asked, in a fillyish little voice. Braeburn winced. Just for an instant, his eyes were squeezed shut in pain. Then, that burning gaze was back, sadder than ever. “Ma’am, that ain’t my way. As Celestia is my witness, I should be able to put you out of commission for long enough, without doin’ you no harm. I realize this is a strong claim, but to me it’s worth the trouble.” Subrii gasped. “You are going to tie me up? Or imprisson me?” The eyes twinkled, in spite of their sadness. “Naw,” said Braeburn. “I reckon I kin jes’ fuck you real nice, like th’ sweetie-snakepony you are, and keep on a-fuckin’ until you can’t walk no more. Then, I get away, you ain’t hurt, an’ I’ve made it worth your while.” Subrii’s jaw dropped. “On second thought,” said Braeburn contemplatively, “that won’t be enough, will it?” “It won’t?” squeaked Subrii, her heart pounding. The twinkle became a leer, a randy cowpony leer that left nothing to the imagination. “Nope,” said Braeburn. “Obv’sly I cain’t leave off there. Ah will just have to keep makin’ more sweet love on and on and ON, until you can’t even slither. Stands to reason, don’t it?” She stared, dumbfounded. Braeburn tipped his hat, and winked from under his scraggly russet outlaw mane. “Will that do?” he said. Subrii’s eyes dilated wildly, and she felt herself grinning a manic, giddy, crazy grin… “Are you joking?” said Vinyl Scratch. Big Macintosh immediately turned away, wouldn’t speak to her. “No, seriously,” said Scratch, “am I reading too much into that? Maybe I missed something, you met somepony along the way after one of our gigs and…” “Eenope,” grumbled Big Macintosh. His lip quivered at the unfairness of it all… but then he felt something. A gentle hoof, across his shoulder, trying to coax him into turning back. “Please, talk to me,” said Scratch. “We’re on the same team here.” He hesitated. “Also I’m your boss,” added Scratch, “and I thought I was your friend. Please?” He relented. Big Macintosh turned, looking suspiciously at her, waiting. Vinyl Scratch gulped. “Okay,” she said. “I’m gonna restate things, tell me if I’m getting it wrong. You’re in love with somepony, who’s in love with you, and that’s why you’re here. Is that going too far?” Big Macintosh thought. “Ah do also want to help you. Wouldn’t want you an’ Octavia pullin’ the cart, it might make you too tired for playin’ the music.” “That’s a relief,” said Scratch. “You know I have to think of that when things get weird… oh come on!” Big Macintosh had turned away again, but he relented and looked apologetic. Scratch rallied, gathering her wits. “Okay, okay, nothing weird here. Giant foreign horses in love with Neighponnese are… well, actually, that’s far from unusual. So you fell in love, and we’re gonna see you reunited with your long-lost beloved.” Big Macintosh nodded, his eyes guarded. “And the one you fell in love with… and believe me, I can understand this part, you know I can… is… it’s Hina-rin. I know you were with her when she visited Ponyville. I heard about it. You fell in love with her.” Big Macintosh’s lip quivered. “I get that,” urged Vinyl Scratch. “Think about it. I told you my story, remember? I think I understand how you feel. Please believe me, I get it. Who else around here is gonna understand, better’n me?” Big Macintosh heaved a deep sigh, and hung his head. “Eyup.” “It’s just that… look, she belongs to Neighpon—eep!” Vinyl jumped back, for Big Macintosh had suddenly glared at her. “Nope.” “Oh fuck,” said Scratch. “Um… I didn’t mean to offend you. Uh… maybe I better stick to my side of the street, huh? I told you about that guy, that I wasn’t able to feed. I fell really hard for him. But they, I mean he, I mean… kinda not fixating on any one pony…” “She does love me,” said Big Macintosh. “Got to. She don’t have to leave her home now. Ah will go to her.” “I’m not saying she doesn’t love you, I’m saying that you don’t understand the way Kirin think, it’s totally real love and probably better than anything we ponies can do but you know it’s just not the same kind of…” “Nope!” “Oh fuck!” squeaked Scratch, her glasses askew, her eyes frightened behind them. “Okay okay okay, we’ll drop that! Um. I really do know how you feel. Umm… kind of getting flashbacks to all that, this is going to be lots of fun getting to sleep tonight now that you’ve made it all fresh and alive for me again…” Big Macintosh drooped. “Did Ah do that?” “I told you, I know exactly how you feel,” said Scratch. “I’ve been there. I’m trying to tell you… you know what, never mind what I’m trying to tell you. Let’s talk about something else. Maybe you can tell Octavia. She’ll think it’s the most romantic thing ever.” “Ain’t it?” “I never said it wasn’t,” sighed Vinyl Scratch sadly. “Hey, listen: as long as you’re not trying to get me to hook up with MY big Kirin crush…” “Ain’t no CRUSH!” “Take it easy!” snapped Scratch, looking flustered. “I’m still your boss, you know! I am seriously not gonna walk on eggshells and watch every little word around you. Do I have to be your cheering section? Knowing what you know about me, knowing about what happened between me and a Kirin? Damn it, Big Macintosh! You can think what you want, but there’s a limit to how much I’m gonna let you fuck with MY head this way…” “Ah’m sorry!” blurted Big Macintosh. “Ah’m sorry. Seriously. Don’t mean to cause you distress, Miss Scratch.” Vinyl glared at him. “I ought to say, it’s Miss Pon-3 to you. Dick!” “Ah’m sorry,” repeated Big Macintosh. “You’re right, Ah see it now. I’ll be good. Won’t bother you with it no more.” Vinyl sighed. She sat for a moment, then she scooted over and hugged him. “Still Scratch. To you. Thanks for making an effort, big guy.” “Or maybe Scratchie, like with Miss Octavia?” “Don’t fuckin’ push it,” warned Vinyl, and Big Macintosh desisted. They sat in peace, listening to Octavia’s practicing. “Do you think she heard us?” asked Big Macintosh, his ears quirking towards the continuing music. Scratch snorted. “Not likely. She’s in the zone. On another day I might go over and break the trance, so she doesn’t tire herself out and be over-rehearsed for the next performance.” “Ain’t gonna do that, though?” “If it’s okay with you I’d rather not have her get off and running with this. Not right now. Maybe after the next gig?” said Scratch. “That’s the last thing I need right now.” Big Macintosh’s brow wrinkled. “Hmm.” He brightened. “Miss Scratch, are you scared you’re gonna see this Kirin at the next gig?” The response he got was a dark little chuckle. “It might be easier,” she said. “I promised I’d fess up. You know I’m a pretty good lay, right? I mean, not among us, but at after-parties and stuff?” Big Macintosh nodded. “Eyup. So am I. Er-hem! So they say, anyhoof.” Scratch turned an intelligent eye on him. “Yeah, I daresay, especially if you’ve learned some technique. It would explain a lot of things, actually, like how you think you can… It would explain a lot.” “Ah got trained by Br… I got trained by th’ best,” said Big Macintosh, a fretful look crossing his face. “Well, usually I use my powers for good, but sometimes I… let’s call it, I use my powers for probably-good,” said Scratch uncomfortably. “How ya figure?” blinked Big Macintosh. “You know,” said Scratch. “Good for something? Like… good for making connections? Using them on somepony who’s not what you call close to me?” Big Macintosh blinked again. “Ma’am, I’ve served at stud for a buncha different mares. You mean different than that? Ah can’t claim to be the special cuddle-bug of Princess Luna, but Ah helped her foal all th’ same.” Vinyl winced. “Yeah, probably hard to make you understand this part. It’s not the same for stallions. I’ll just say it. There’s this very powerful agent. He’s probably going to be at the next concert. I’m going to be playing for him. And then, later…” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “You reckon he’s gonna take advantage of you? Miss Scratch, Ah know I weren’t hired for nothin’ like that, but if you need a bodyguard…” “No!” protested Scratch. “You don’t get it. I’m going to be playing at him. And I’m gonna do my best to seduce him. And I’m gonna fuck the daylights out of him, give him the works.” “So?” “Two things, okay?” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, and waited for them. “One,” said Scratch, “I don’t like him. Not that much, anyway. I’m faking. I can do all the physical stuff, but I’m going to be pretending I like it. It’s not dangerous, but it’s yucky.” “Dangerous?” “Kirin don’t like it,” explained Scratch. “It’s not honest. In this case it’s not going to do any harm, except to me, because if I do that I feel dirty. He’s not going to be harmed.” “How can you be so sure?” asked Big Macintosh. “Sounds like you know this feller.” “That’s thing two,” said Scratch. “That’s why I’m really scared. This dude is jaded. He’s a powerful promoter, and he’s damn good at it. The Kirin respect him and his skills. He’s not running around demanding sex or pressuring mares, either, get that straight. I’ll be playing at him because it’s hard to get his attention, and he doesn’t give a shit about me.” Big Macintosh studied Vinyl. Her lower lip was pouting, her expression was grumpy and unhappy, and she did look scared and sad. “Beggin’ your pardon,” he said, “but if he don’t give a fuck about us, and you don’t like him, why are ya even worried? Why don’t ya just leave him alone?” Scratch sulked. “Tens of thousands of bits worth of bookings. If he’s more fond of me and likes what I do. I think he’ll like the show.” “That ain’t enough?” “I want to be sure,” said Scratch. Big Macintosh leaned over, and hugged her. “Miss Scratch?” “Yeah?” “Ah don’t rightly see how you’re doin’ this fella any harm. Do you think it is trickin’ him or foolin’ him? To try and fuck him, jes’ to be remembered?” Scratch let out a raucous laugh. “Hah! Not likely. This guy, he’s seen it all. That’s one of the things I don’t like, he’s going to be sure I’m just trying to bed him in order to get bookings.” “But… you are.” Vinyl paused, looking off toward where Octavia was practicing. “Yeah. I am,” she said. Big Macintosh followed her gaze. “Wait, Ah get it! It ain’t jes’ you that you’re doin’ this for. You’re lookin’ to get Octavia some attention?” Scratch nodded. “Bigtime. How can I fail her when this is her big break?” “Why don’t you ask Octavia to go romp with him?” suggested Big Macintosh. “Maybe he’d like it.” “No way,” said Scratch. “He’d go to a fancy dress party with Octavia. I told you, he doesn’t prey on artists. He won’t be going after me, either, unless I make it really obvious I want that. If I’m just a total slutty-corn, he might lower himself enough to fuck me, and not be ashamed of it. It would be my doing, that way.” She pouted. Big Macintosh thought about that. “Huh. It’s kind of like…” “Like what?” “Ah been trying to practice on unicorns,” admitted Big Macintosh. “So’s I get good at it, that is.” “Well, not on me,” began Scratch, but then her eyes widened. “Wait a minute! I remember at that one town, what I saw of the Kirin. They were real plump. And later, out by the lake, there were these fireworks… Big Macintosh, are you trying to learn how to get unicorns off extra hard? Specifically so you can go find Hina-rin and, uh, sit around feeding her?” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, blushing. Scratch’s face was a study in conflicting emotions. “Okay, that’s a new one. I mean, it would sort of work. I don’t know how relevant that even is…” “No, listen,” said Big Macintosh. “Is that so different?” Scratch gawked. “I’m not following you, big guy.” “Ah mean,” said Big Macintosh, “it’s all the same, ain’t it? All you’re lookin’ to do is another performance. First you’re performin’ on them decks, and then you’re findin’ this guy, this powerful important guy, and you’re fixin’ to perform on him too. Ah know from you an’ Octavia talkin’, you practice this kinda performance. You’re proud of bein’ good at it. Well, Miss Scratch, so am I. Ah’m good at that kinda performin’. What is so wrong with that? Ain’t it just generous?” Scratch stared at him. “You’re worried you ain’t measurin’ up to this fella,” continued Big Macintosh. “Ah’m worried that since I ain’t no unicorn, it’ll be hard between me an’ Hina, and I want to measure up by bringin’ her unicorns to, uh, to milk? Somethin’ like that. I din’t realize you had similar worries, Miss Scratch. But I don’t see no harm in you performin’ all sorts of ways, and why is it any different? You don’t go out and kiss everypony in your audience.” Scratch’s ears were back, but not distressed so much as disconcerted. “Actually, there were a few times in Fillydelphia…” “Ah know Fillydelphia!” replied Big Macintosh. “Ah have put on some mighty pow’ful penis performances in Fillydelphia! This ain’t Fillydelphia, Miss Scratch. You gonna let that stop you?” Vinyl Scratch began to grin. “Heh. Fuck no, it won’t. I think you’re right. One thing I know is, I’m not harming this dude. He might like me, he might not. Hard to impress, this guy. But there’s no reason to think he’ll be offended at me trying.” “Dang right!” “Okay,” grinned Scratch. “You’ve convinced me. Let’s both go out there and fuck like champions. Not each other!” she added, hastily. “Our adoring public. I’ll do my best with this guy, might even be kind of fun. And you, you can go find a unicorn. There’s got to be plenty of nice Neighponnese unicorns you can get sexy with.” “Will do,” said Big Macintosh. “And not before my reg’lar work is done!” “Right,” said Scratch. “Practice milking unicorns.” She made a face. “But not me, for several reasons! As you know.” “It’s all right, Miss Scratch,” said Big Macintosh. She hugged him, glanced around to see nopony was there to overhear, and whispered, “You’ve earned ‘Scratchie’. For this pep-talk.” “Gosh,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah did?” “Unless you piss me off!” Big Macintosh gulped. Scratch snickered. “Don’t look so tragic. Octavia gets the same deal. Tell you what… tonight, pick out a nice unicorn mare at the concert. Then go back to her place and screw her senseless. We’ll see how our luck is going. Tell me if it goes awesome, maybe it will be a sign.” “All right… Scratchie,” said Big Macintosh. Braeburn ran his hungry hooves over his eagerly willing conquest. Subrii had surrendered immediately to his plan, and he was still not sure if it meant certain success, or if it meant she planned some kind of surprise. Was there a snake behavior she’d unexpectedly throw at him? There were no fangs. He proposed to leave her a quivering puddle of mare. Would she, perhaps, shed her skin and chase him as a newly refreshed snake-pony? Surely that was madness, impossible? There was no time like the present to find out. Subrii quivered at his touch. Her neck was bare of any trace of mane. The short little mane-cut was tough-looking, but it wasn’t backed up by aggressiveness in her personality. Perhaps she just found it embarrassing to have a long mane when it didn’t grow on her neck like a normal pony? Normal ponies didn’t wriggle like that. Subrii showed startling talent at stallion-touching. Braeburn gasped as the little snake-pony sensuously writhed against his body. She had a more or less normal quadrupedal frame, slim but normal legs, but all the same when she got aroused she moved as lithe and boneless as a horny cat. Or, of course, a snake. Braeburn fondled her pert butt, to croons of delight from his would-be lover. Fascinated, he studied the dock of her tail. Just as he’d suspected, it continued hairless for more than a few inches before blossoming outwards into a blonde pony tail. The lithe green dock of her tail wriggled. Braeburn nuzzled it, then nuzzled the firm round muscle of her ponylike rump, greeted by a squee and a wink. He sighed with relief. Certain changes might be… inconvenient. Braeburn rubbed his cheek against her rump-cheek, savoring the feeling. The lesbian ponies were being cruelly shortchanged, he thought to himself. Hell, an excitable filly could probably get off simply riding this cutie around, riding her back to be specific. Her coat tingled his muzzle like rubbing against silk. He suddenly took a hoof to Subrii’s precious pony-pussy, parting her folds to inspect the texture of her flesh, wary of more scales. But there was nothing to fear, nothing but distinctly pony glisten and ooze, and another cry of desire from that soprano voice. No, it was different, somehow. Braeburn extended a tongue, privately admitting it was a very inadequate tongue compared to hers, and he tasted Subrii’s vagina, and she shuddered and cried out again, a sweet yearning call like a bird taking flight. Her nectars were lighter, more tingly, and there was another difference he couldn’t quite work out. He froze. Was that the trick? Poison-pussy? But no, she just stood trembling and waited, and he suffered no sort of ill effect. Indeed, he was suffering very good effects. He’d dropped a potent erection, and it was starting to throb with unforgiving rigidity, and possibly he needed to get started before his girth got too enthusiastic. He didn’t even nip her ass. No point, really. And what with one thing and another, Braeburn felt out of touch with the more aggressive aspects of mare-dominating. Given the chance to not be so nippy, he found himself gladly taking it… and he mounted upon her, shuffling his hind legs to and fro, clasping her to his chest with honest affection. She’d been a real sweetie, and nice, and he proposed to give her a wonderful ride. Braeburn prodded Subrii’s pussy, and his ears laid back. “Tight as a snake’s ass…” he breathed. Subrii squirmed, and twisted her head around with disconcerting agility. It almost made him leap clear in alarm, but it was Subrii being adorable and tearful again, even though her neck was bent disturbingly. “Please not!” she begged. “I don’t care if it’s true, it’s not as fun for me! Please?” “Th’ boys try and get up your ass?” blinked Braeburn. “It chafes,” sniffled Subrii. “And I’m so excited… my body aches for you!” “Ma’am,” said Braeburn, “jes’ turn your head round and brace yourself. Ah kin do ya right. I’m honored, in fact.” “Eee!” squeed Subrii, and she faced front, and as Braeburn lovingly nuzzled that delicately scaled, maneless neck, he allowed his hips to press forward. Immediately, she shuddered, and Braeburn hesitated, his eyes wide. “Dang,” he breathed. Subrii’s pussy was about the tightest thing he’d ever felt, but the mystery of her juices became clear: there was no friction, none that he could feel. Subrii lubricated like no mare he’d known: thin nectar but impossibly slippery. Braeburn pressed a bit deeper, and the tension around him was astonishing, but he could barely even feel a sliding. He glided into her like his cock was on wheels, rolling her snakey aperture wider as he pushed. Subrii shuddered harder, letting out a little wavery squeal. Braeburn hesitated. “Are you all right, honey?” he asked. “You’re so dad-blamed tight.” Her ear twisted to hear him, and she moaned, then said, “Give it to me!” “It ain’t too much?” “You are in the right hole,” said Subrii dreamily. “I can stand almost anything if it’ss the right hole…” Braeburn’s ears were quirked to the side in disbelief. “You say that now, missy… but all right, whenever you’re ready…” Subrii was ready. Braeburn had to resist an instinctive urge to shove, because she expressed her readiness by wriggling that taut little rump, twisting his cock-head inside her with wet slippery noises. There was nothing like a wriggling pony rump to say ‘push it deeper’, and there was no pony rump quite as wriggly as that of a snake-pony. Braeburn complied, but slowly, cautiously. His eyes just kept getting wider, and he craned his neck over to the side, trying to see what in Equestria it even looked like. Surely her pony posterior hadn’t been THAT small? And yet, he seemed to be trying to pry his cock through some tiny hole that barely loosened for him. Subrii’s rump clenched on him, and he whinnied in alarm at a tightening sensation… surely it would snip his stallionhood right off! But then she’d relaxed again, and it made surprisingly little difference. He hit the central part of his swollen erection, his ears laid back hard in astonishment. Subrii was crooning in obvious ecstacy, her whole body shuddering like tiny earthquakes coursed through it, and yet the pinch of her was pretty much unbearable. “Does that hurt?” Braeburn asked. “Keep going!” moaned the slinky snakepony, her body trembling all over. What the fuck, thought Braeburn, and his hips swung forward, and his swollen horsecock slid fully into Subrii, thumping her cervix. That also was reassuringly normal. The element that remained strange was, again, her slipperiness: so slippery were her juices, and so intense her pressure, that Braeburn’s cock seemed to get sucked into her depths, the squeezing forcing it to slide rapidly forward as it sought a narrower clench. Braeburn gasped, and Subrii let out a little shriek and began to reel, her hooves juddering against the soft grass as she came. Braeburn spared a hoof to wipe his brow. “Dang,” he said reverently. “Snake’s ass ain’t nothin’ to a snakepony’s pussy. Who knew?” “Ahh! More!” begged Subrii, staring wildly into the sky. “Shh!” cautioned Braeburn, himself glancing warily at the sky. There was nothing up there to worry about, for now. “I’ll give ya more if you try to be quiet. Relax.” Panting, Subrii nodded frantically, and then devoted her full attention to the amazing things happening in her vagina. Braeburn was as good as his word. He could go no deeper: the little snakepony was bottomed out, his crotch nestled against her quivering, silky-scaled buttocks. Her bare dock wriggled excitedly against his belly, causing Braeburn to note in astonishment that it was one hell of a sexy sensation. But it was nothing compared to the sensations around his throbbing cock… even when he let it sit still for a moment, nothing could diminish the uncanny slipperiness of Subrii’s vagina. Any motion he tried to make was effortless, frictionless. He barely felt it, but he felt the pressure, and that was intense. Tugging produced spectacular results. Subrii shuddered, shook, wailed softly, but Braeburn stayed alert for other signs that more clearly spelled distress. He tried to sense whether there was a cramped, pinching sensation, a strain in her vocalizing. A sudden edge in any sense could suggest trouble… but there was none. His instincts were telling him one simple story: this was the most aroused mare he’d ever, ever fucked. Her vagina was like unto balling a chipmunk, but the stretch in it was unbelievable. He wasn’t hurting her, not even when he paused half-withdrawn, the full brunt of his titanic girth prying her vagina wide. Did she not even feel pain? Was it a snake thing? He sensed only that constant shuddering, and palpable waves of obscene pleasure that flooded her relentlessly. Duty called. Braeburn, increasingly filled with quiet awe, began thrusting. Subrii squeaked, quivered, shook like an earthquake, and her amazing vagina never weakened. What weakened was the snakepony herself. She began to sway, staggering, and Braeburn danced a lewd dance for a moment as he lowered her to the soft tall grass without for one moment ceasing to fuck her. And, nestled in the grass that matched her silky scales, Braeburn extended his stroke until he was slowly, insistently plunging his huge throbbing horsecock from her glistening entrance to her deepest depths, over and over. He swelled harder. It didn’t seem to matter. Subrii’s tongue lolled, her eyes stared at unseen wonders or the fireworks of her own orgasms, and her body shook uncontrolledly, writhing in the grass on the end of Braeburn’s slowly plunging erection. He took it farther than he’d ever imagined he could. He slowed down, toward the end, watching her elegant limbs twitch weakly, remembering his vow: she hadn’t passed out, might never pass out from orgasm alone, but he had to leave her so drained she couldn’t even slither. By his reckoning, he was almost there. Subrii shook even more fervently, as Braeburn went rock-hard inside her, still moving, inches from climax. “Ee…e…ee! eee! hh!” “GNHH!” Braeburn hugged the limp little snakepony close, and blasted, and horsecome surged fiercely into Subrii as her lover throbbed his release and ultimate peak. Subrii’s eyes, staring into glorious nowhere, dilated so hard they looked exactly like a natural pony’s eyes, when obliterated by pleasure and love. Braeburn collapsed on top of her, squishing her into the grass, her tongue still lolling. One snakepony eye twitched. Subrii couldn’t even move a muscle. Braeburn panted. “Dang. Amazin’. Amazin’…” Subrii saw him, out of the edge of her vision, which was blurred out with clouds of rosy glory. He tugged his subsiding erection out of her tight pussy… which felt amazing, more intensely sated than she could have even imagined possible. He stayed visible. She was glad her eyes hadn’t closed, though that little membrane she had was partly showing. Subrii couldn’t even be embarrassed by that. She watched Braeburn quietly slink away into the distance. Then, he was back, somehow. He was snuggling her, though she was so limp she couldn’t even wriggle. He was arranging her body, still so warm from her endless orgasming and glowing in the afternoon sun, and he settled her comfortably and nuzzled her pretty face and gently, carefully, coaxed her eyes to close, though she wanted them to stay open and looking at him. But she couldn’t resist anything he wanted, and she willingly allowed him to cuddle her to what he thought was sleep. In a sense, it was. As she cooled off, deliciously exhausted by all the incredible sex, an irresistible torpor came over her… and she knew then that his plan had worked. He’d be long gone by the time she could move again. She did manage to slither half an inch in the direction she thought he’d gone, before succumbing to an enthralled, slowly rotating mental meditation on her own utter pleasure and satisfaction. Half an inch wasn’t much… but it was a start. Big Macintosh sweated, humping a squealing unicorn mare. There was no other word for it. She was very aggressive, and demanding, and she’d brought him back to her bedroom which was unaccountably filled with floating green balloons, and exhorted him to his humping in the most uncompromising terms. This surely counted as practice, but it only made him long for the tenderness and intelligence of Hina even more. He grunted, and ducked. She was swinging her head around, whinnying in ecstacy as his massive red cock thrust again and again into her electric blue pussy. All of her was an alarming blue, except for her mane and tail which were red and yellow. Fucking her in her room of green balloons hurt the eyes, but he didn’t dare close them for long. Her long blue horn was sharpened to a point. He couldn’t take his eyes off it. It suited her. And when she swung her head around, he had to stay clear of that point at all costs. She bucked under him, hooves slipping on the floor, barely keeping her footing. He grunted again, and decided he’d had about enough. Twisting his head, he bit firmly onto her neck and began ramming his cock all the way in, with a succession of brain-rattling thuds. The squealing blue unicorn thrashed, and then seemed to explode in light. Her body convulsed on him even as he thrust and spasmed and spurted horsecome into her, and she gushed horngasm at the ceiling, popping an assortment of the balloons. “AAAAH! YES! NOW! GET! STAB!” shrieked the wildly orgasming mare. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened, and then she’d yanked herself out from under him. She was leaping about off her rear hooves, drooling Big Macintosh come all over the floor from her gaping pussy, and springing up like a mountain goat to stab the balloons with her horn, even as bolts of magic gushed from it. “GET THEM! STAB! WITH YOUR DICK!” squealed the demented unicorn. “Buh?” managed Big Macintosh, wobbling on his hooves, wide-eyed. He kept watching his crazed lover leap about, and soon she tired, panting, her legs shaking. All at once, she collapsed in the middle of the floor, a massive grin on her face. “I keep hoping one will,” she crooned, nuzzling fragments of green rubber scattered across the floor. “One will what?” “With his dick,” she said. “I’d come so hard. Oooooh.” Big Macintosh wobbled, and then sat down heavily on his butt, shaking the house. “Mmmm,” said the unicorn mare. “Thank you. I’ll be good for weeks, after this.” “Beggin’ your pardon,” said Big Macintosh, “but what the hay are you doin’ with them balloons?” She nuzzled the floor, and the scraps of rubber, dreamily. “I’m very aggressive. Did you notice?” “Jes’ a bit!” She smiled, still nuzzling green fragments of ex-balloon. “The Kirin taught me this. It helps with my urges. I still want a stallion to do it with his dick, though. Then I would know he was the one.” “But what the heck are ya doin’ to the balloons?” said Big Macintosh, plainitively. “I’m killing them,” said the dreamily nuzzling unicorn. Big Macintosh stared. She looked back at him, in deep satisfaction, cheek lovingly nestled against shattered green rubber. “So I don’t kill ponies,” she explained. “So, Big Macintosh… did you find a nice unicorn to practice on?” “Nope.”
Mare's Gotta Do*blinkblink* *awake* …before dawn. Vinyl Scratch wriggled, restless. She glared into the dark. You never knew when it would sneak up on you: after all those gigs, she’d have thought herself immune to pre-show jitters, but there she was: wakeful before dawn, and having to make that awful decision: get up far too early, or try and force a little more sleep? Of course, it wasn’t just the gig. It was still performance in a sense, but it wasn’t only DJing on the agenda. Scratch had a feeling of trepidation that beatmongering alone couldn’t produce, and a kind of excitement that used to belong to the gigs themselves. It was a funny thing. As you got good, really good, in some ways your art got less scary. You could try and bring back the danger and novelty of your first gigs through various means, allowing for dodgy equipment or trying bold transitions and audience-challenging stunts… but the audience learned too. It learned with you, and it learned about you, and even though she hadn’t played Neighpon for ages, word spread fast. She wasn’t going to need to explain much. The beats of Fillydelpia’s wildest clubs spoke loudly to Neighpon villages and required little translation. It was what Vinyl planned for after the gig that had her excited and nervous. The odd thing was, she didn’t feel any less competent at balling a fan into the ground. In normal circumstances, Scratch could pounce a pony with huge confidence from not only her celebrity status, but also the years of strenuous exercise she undertook with a curious dumbbell-shaped device. She could work a stallionhood like few ponies alive… But it wasn’t going to be a fan, was it? This guy wasn’t merely a key promoter, not simply an important contact. The whole reason seducing him had occurred to Scratch was that he had just the same seductive reputation as she had. And that meant he might not be impressed… and he had to be, he just had to be. There would be no use screwing him if she was just another eager conquest. She had to impress. Vinyl ran over possible angles in her head. Was he going to want her to be brassy and bold and wanton? That was easy for a mare who made her bones in Fillydelphia. On the other hand, his reputation suggested a very different attitude from the notorious Fillydelphia private clubs. And the Kirin wouldn’t like him nearly as much if he was that kind of hardcore. Would she need to play it all fillyish and vulnerable? How the pony hell would she pull that one off while still exploiting her spectacular muscle control? Chalk it up to enthusiasm? …munching on breakfast. The grasses of Neighpon were delicious, and Vinyl found herself snacking on some while still pondering her dilemma. She tossed her mane and ordered herself to settle down, for all the world as if she were Octavia giving Scratchie a well-deserved scolding. Since when was the prospect of she, DJ Pon-3, screwing some lucky pony, a dilemma? She was getting far too worried. Just because he was a powerful and well-connected booking agent and patron of the arts, and by all accounts also a patron of the artists, at least those artists that were hot mares, and if ‘patron’ meant balling artists’ brains out until they were drooling cretins who would do anything he asked… No, that wasn’t fair. That was certainly the impression she got, but Vinyl knew the Kirin wouldn’t ever tolerate him using his gifts for evil. Also, she thought, she’d better stop thinking of him as some lurking challenge, and start thinking of him as a pony: Michian would presumably want it that way. Even that name told a story: Michian’nai-sha was his full, honorable name, but he was Michian to all who crossed his path. Perhaps that was also a sort of adaptation. All knew that Michian’nai-sha was a very powerful unicorn, and the Kirin were strict with very powerful unicorns, and so Michian famously devoted himself to the most extreme humility. It was a sort of humility, thought Scratch sourly, that only the exceptional could afford: Michian wandered the land, finding gifted artists and promoting them, staying in any old hovel or barn without thought to his own welfare. Or at least, he would do so if he wasn’t continually dragged off to very comfortable bedrooms, there to make love with a series of thrilled and worshipful mares. It was said that he liked unicorn mares, and Scratch hoped it was true, for her sake. You couldn’t prove it by his actions, for he didn’t favor any sort of pony species above any other, least of all in his promotion. The rumor was that he had a special weakness for unicorn mares. The rumor also said that he took pains to not give them extra help, knowing his own weaknesses, and Scratch hoped like pony hell that part was false. The last thing she needed was an uphill battle. She would have to deliver a blinding, epic gig on top of a spectacular roll in the hay, to overcome his resistance. Damn it, couldn’t he just trade business favors for sexual favors like any normal pony, or at least any pony in Manehattan? Ponyville was a little more innocent. Fillydelphia was more perverse, and you had to be sure the pony wasn’t getting an extra kick out of betraying you, or playing some sort of mind game. Canterlot was supposed to be even more perverse, but you had to keep it tightly under wraps or the Princesses would scold you and stop inviting you to events. Stop it, stop it, thought Vinyl Scratch. It’ll be wonderful. You’ll go flirt with Michian, it’ll be fun. He was said to have an extraordinary presence, almost like a Kirin himself. No wonder he tried to sleep in barns, then. Kirin didn’t enjoy powerful unicorns gathering followers, even if those followers were a sort of panting obsessed harem with no political ambitions beyond getting another taste of Michian’s famous cock. Vinyl suspected she had an advantage there: nothing a Neighponnese unicorn stallion could produce, was likely to be that amazing compared to some of the wilder parts of Fillydelphia. Neighponnese weren’t typically big ponies. Fillydelphia was a melting pot with horses from all over the place. …finishing breakfast, Vinyl looked around for Octavia, then closed her eyes and swiveled her ears. Sure enough, the faint strains of cello wafted across the morning grass, and Scratch followed her ears. She found Octavia in a field, and she frowned as she drew closer. Tavi was running over the same few bars of music, again and again. ‘Running over’ proved to be very appropriate words: Tavi was running over the music as if in a runaway pony-cart. The notes were blocky, overly tense, and she kept stopping and starting, and locks of her mane stuck out unkempt and unnoticed. “Didja have breakfast?” asked Vinyl. Octavia frowned. “In a minute. Shh.” “No, seriously, you know it’s only going to make it worse if you don’t…” “Vinyl! Please. I will in a minute.” “And I respect that,” said Vinyl, “it’s just that I know you and I’ve seen these moods before and…” “Vinyl!” snapped Octavia, and directed a formidable glare and pout at her dearest friend. Scratch hesitated, and then quietly backed away. She did indeed know Octavia, and she’d been dreading one of these artistic fits, and didn’t it just have to turn up just when the gig was really important? Carefully, she controlled her features, avoided any look of anger or disapproval. It wouldn’t help. Tavi would just have to play it out, and Scratch hoped she didn’t over-practice until she was past it when gig time came around. These lapses were all part of life for the hoity-toity classical soloist, or indeed the composer and performer. Vinyl didn’t envy her that part. Her own fate was more easily borne. It wasn’t that DJing was all that much easier, but it was a lot more social, and less precarious. Not for DJ Pon-3, the tension of creating an exquisite melody and performing it flawlessly. Instead, she made her living through reading the crowd, remembering a massive repertoire of variously pounding records and textures and tempos and keys and drum patterns, and her own performances lived in the transitions from one dance-floor stomper to the next: to surprise and delight a fickle crowd without ever letting their pulse waver unless SHE wanted them to amp up or cool down. In a very real sense, they were her instrument as much as the decks were. …sidling up to Big Macintosh as he peaceably cropped grass for his breakfast, and thinking to herself how pleased she was that their roadie also had good sense and stuck with grass on the day of an important gig. Ponies ate all sorts of fancy things, but grass was the stable diet. “Hm?” said Big Macintosh, raising his head. “What’s so funny, Miss Vinyl Scratch?” “Nothing,” said Vinyl. “Hey, I just wanted to say, can you make sure that Tavi eats something for breakfast? Don’t interrupt her right now, but when she gives up?” “She’s gone give up?” blinked Big Macintosh in perplexity. “In the middle of a tour an’ all?” “No, not like that,” said Scratch. She sighed. “She’s practicing, and she’s kinda stuck. I think she’ll see reason and do as I asked, which is try and have some breakfast. You know that’s part of her problem: she got caught up in her performance and can’t let go of it, and I know she didn’t eat anything since she got up. It’s fine when things go well, but when it goes wrong she gets upset.” “Awww…” rumbled Big Macintosh, looking dismayed. “Just find her something nice, okay?” said Vinyl, and trotted off to check out the venue site. It was supposed to be a pretty decent spot for a gig. Vinyl nodded in satisfaction at what she found. The place was massive! There was a sort of bandstand that would shelter her and part of the crowd from rain, if there was any rain. That was unusual for Neighpon, but this was Chou-sho province, and apparently they wanted to persuade everypony that they really were very close to the capital city, very important in their own right. It was sort of cute because it was far from the truth, but hoofmarks in the dirt showed that ponies already danced there. So many ponies that the hoofmarks stretched way out past the bandstand. …seeing Octavia in the distance, returning to their cart in a huff. Good, thought Vinyl, that’s on the right track. She returned to studying the venue. What if Michian took a fancy to some other pony in the audience, before she could get to him? Vinyl frowned, worried. No, you couldn’t worry about things like that, she thought as she watched Big Macintosh trotting along holding a tray in his teeth. She would just have to do her best. Anyway, Michian liked artists, so in theory he’d have his eye on her. And doubly so, Michian was said to like unicorn mares, giving her twice of a chance. And where was he, anyway? Vinyl wasn’t sure whether she wanted to see him this far ahead of the gig. On the one hoof, that was time to get to know him, but on the other hoof she’d not taken a dip in the pond, and she had a thing she did with her mane and tail that made them a little more shaggy and scruffy, and she liked to polish her rose-colored trademark shades and she could tell they weren’t polished, they still had dust from the road on them that she was going to have to …screaming in the distance. Octavia screaming. Over by the cart! …suddenly there as if no time had elapsed, panting with exertion, only to see Tavi flipping out in hysterics and Big Macintosh looking like he was about to cry and—her decks. He’d brought Octavia breakfast, and juice to drink, and he’d tripped or stumbled or something and had spilled the tray on top of her decks where they were packed. “OMIGAWWD no wait Tavi stop Tavi don’t jump around like that! Don’t kick, that’s right, big hugs, deep breaths…” “Ah’m sorry! Ah’m sorry!” Vinyl turned, in haste, to speak to the culprit. “You settle down too! Stay! I’ll get to you, just sit quietly!” “Yes’m!” squeaked Big Macintosh, blushing even more brightly red, and he sat and waited. “Octavia, listen to me!” demanded Vinyl, her ears back. “I want you to notice something… yes, no jumping, that’s right, take a deep breath not all that panting, good girl, good Tavi… back with me?” Octavia stared, stricken, distraught… but increasingly, capable of reason and common sense. “Oh, Scratchie!” “Yes! This is Scratchie right here, I want you to do something, can you do something for me?” “Oh, but I couldn’t do anything! It was awful, the juice was like ‘sploosh’ and everything was ruined forever…” wailed Octavia, beginning to trot in place again. “No! Focus! Octavia, look again, do you see? Do you see what’s there?” insisted Vinyl. “Look, look, silly pony!” Octavia’s lip quivered. “It’s your decks. And juice spilled all over them and I couldn’t stop it.” “No no,” said Vinyl, “look. CLOTHS.” She stared manically into Octavia’s eyes from over her unpolished dusty trademark shades, willing the flighty artist to understand, twitching her head toward the decks and the luxurious cloths she always draped them in. Octavia gasped. “You mean…” Vinyl Scratch nodded. “I do! Look, see, it’s okay, it’s what the cloths are for!” She lit her horn, grabbed the cloths without grimacing or wincing, perkily mopped up stray orange juice while casually flinging the tray and breakfast over the side of the cart. Big Macintosh wouldn’t mind, and she had to get ‘em out of the sight of Octavia. “See, see? All better!” chirped Scratch. Octavia’s lip was still quivery. Indeed, all of Octavia was quivery, because she was trembling all over and the spectacle would have dropped Stout Heart at twenty paces… well, dropped part of him, anyhow. Vinyl hung onto her smile for all she was worth, and continued. “Now, Tavi, darling, sweetie, I’m going to need you to apologize…” “I’m ever so sorry I wasn’t able to stop it!” sobbed Octavia. “And it doesn’t make any sense, I know those are like little quilts to keep the decks cozy, they can’t be just rags for spills…” “…to Big Macintosh!” concluded Vinyl fiercely, and Octavia’s jaw dropped. So did Big Macintosh’s. “What?” said both in chorus, mercifully forgetting Octavia’s last point. Vinyl fixed them with a stern glare. “That’s right! Say you’re sorry for freaking out so much. He was only doing what I asked him to do… that’s right! …because I saw you weren’t having breakfast.” She hugged the stunned Big Macintosh, and continued. “And you still haven’t! So here’s your punishment that isn’t really a punishment, okay? BOTH of you, go off to the field I was hanging out in, you saw where I was, and you both have to have grass for breakfast! It’s really nice over there, might still be some dew on it. I sympathise with you wanting to treat Octavia with something nice, Big Macintosh, but on the morning of a big gig we’re better off having nice ordinary grass instead of rich and fancy stuff, and it’s really good in that field, trust me.” “Um,” said Big Macintosh, as Octavia’s gaze pleaded for forgiveness. Vinyl Scratch stamped a hoof on the bottom of the cart, making both jump. “Now!” she ordered, and then there was nothing but clambering and the tail ends of galloping ponies, as Big Macintosh and Octavia did as she asked. Vinyl gave them three seconds to be sure they wouldn’t turn back, and then she turned instantly to the decks, her own lip quivering dreadfully in woe. …frantically galloping around town searching for replacement cloths, her heart leaping up into her throat with its panicked pounding. Oh, there had to, there just HAD to be somepony who could set her up! It wasn’t that her decks would betray her, and certainly they were not broken, but after that line of bullshit she fed Mac and Tavi, she so totally had to make it up to them. Tavi was right, in no sense did she cover her decks with wash-cloths or tarpaulins. Their covers were luxurious little coverlets, and well deserved, and if she couldn’t find somepony who made cloth that would do her faithful decks justice… Vinyl whinnied, rearing. Him! Michian. He hadn’t seen her, was down the street, but this was the worst time to run into the guy. She’d have to seem confident, and her shades still weren’t polished, and she sweated, and before another moment had passed Vinyl had ducked down a side street to avoid encountering the notorious promoter early, and she trotted, looking from side to side… There! A window revealed bolts of cloth that took her breath away, fine brocaded silks to make Rarity weep with envy. Well, thought Vinyl, more like ‘make Rarity disappear into her Boutique and not come out until she’d woven something even better’, but the point stood: she’d found what she needed. “Hello!” she called, trotting into the little hole-in-the-wall store. The proprietor, a rumpled old unicorn mare in granny glasses, dropped a sequin in startlement. “Hello, miss! Can I help you?” “Oh,” said Vinyl, “I hope so. I don’t mean to be any trouble, but do you make the fabric shown in the window?” Behind the granny glasses, eyes widened. She gasped. “Your accent is so strange—and you’re upset! How can I help you?” Vinyl grinned uncertainly from behind her dusty, unpolished DJ Pon-3 shades. “I’m hoping you can sell me just a couple squares of that fabr… oh, horseapples, I left my money in the cart, can you wait here? I’ll only be a moment, make that a couple minutes but if I run really fast…” “Stop!” squeaked the proprietor. Vinyl blinked. “Stop?” The old mare smiled at her. “Look at you. So strange, and you’ve been running like a madmare, and you seek only a little sample of my fabrics…” “If it’s the same width as the other bolts of cloth in the window,” said Vinyl, “I’ll want to trim it slightly, and of course it’s not really squares exactly. They like the edges to hang down neatly and tuck under just a tiny bit. Um. I just mean, I know the exact dimensions!” “You’re one of the musicians,” said the proprietor. “And it’s some sort of an emergency. Never fear. I will get you your almost-squares, right away. In fact, I’ll hem them for you. Are you the one with the huge fiddle?” “No,” said Scratch, blushing. “They’re for my decks.” “Ah,” said the proprietor, her eyes crinkling up as she smiled. “I see. This town should like you, then. Now which would it have been… I’d say… that one!” Scratch’s eyes widened. “Yes! How did you know? I never told you which fabric it was!” The old eyes crinkled still more warmly. “Oh, you thumping-beat ponies think you’re the only ones who can read how ponies are affected by your art?” Vinyl gawked for a moment, then vowed, “I’ll be back in just a few minutes with the money for you!” “Hold your tongue,” snapped the old mare, “and your horses. Sit down. First of all, you need to show me the dimensions for your almost-squares, and sit tight while I hem them. Secondly, you’re not paying so much as a cherry blossom petal. Michi-poo would be terribly disappointed in me if I failed you. He’ll be deeply moved and happy that I was there when you needed me. It’s just the sort of thing he likes.” She winked. “If it helps, I can probably get a lovely evening out of him once he finds out what I have done. Never you fear, I’ll be compensated. Handsomely, you might say.” “Mi…” began Vinyl, astonished. “Michian? Is that what you mean? You think Michian is going to reward you with, with sex?” The old unicorn mare winked again at her, the crinkled old eyes twinkling merrily. “I am a star too, darling,” she said, smugly. …running back to the cart, for the hemming had taken a terribly long time. Vinyl welcomed it, for she knew she’d be honoring her decks with a special gift, but on the other hoof she’d left them cooling their platters for hours and couldn’t remember whether she’d explained herself before she left. They had presumably seen her distress, and they would always understand, but she’d been terribly anxious as the old mare patiently made two pieces of cloth into works of art, expressed in fabric and finish. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered to the quiet, motionless, serene decks. “I have something for ya.” Her horn lit, and her gifts were displayed. It seemed like they smiled, somehow, with the same easy gratitude she’d seen in the old unicorn mare. She could hear Octavia directing Big Macintosh, off in the distance: Mac was setting up the stage, and Octavia was helping. Vinyl could hear in the tones of their voices that they were taking pains to make it extra nice, trying hard to please her. A few bars of cello music wafted across the hillside. It sounded amazing. Octavia’s sense of acoustics was on full display, a real education in refinement of sound. Vinyl heard her, still dissatisfied, directing Big Macintosh to move the speakers again. His ‘eyup!’ came across quite clearly, and he sounded eager to move heavy speakers all day long if that’s what it took to give Octavia and Vinyl sonic perfection. Scratch curled up around her decks, trembling slightly, telling herself that everything was going to go fine from now on. “Excuse me?” “Eeee!” squeaked Vinyl, popping up. It was HIM! Michian’nai-sha stood outside the cart, hooves on the wheel, peering in at her with his ears back in alarm. He blushed. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. I only saw you running across town, and it seemed you were worried…” “All better now!” squeaked Vinyl, unable to look away from his handsome lilac eyes. Michian’nai-sha was a pale blue pony, with a deep purple mane that was unkempt in that very specific way you got when you paid hairdressers massive sums to get unkempt in style, and those eyes, so pale but so deep at the same time… “Oh, good!” said Michian. “Is there anything further I can help with?” Scratch blushed, and then she hopped out of the cart. “Nope! But there’s a nice lady in town you might want to check in on!” He blinked. “There is?” “She set me up with this!” chirped Vinyl, and her horn lit and she saw his eyes flash to it. But all she was doing was lifting one of the cloths she’d got. “Nice, huh? I can show you where it was.” “Of course I know,” said Michian, bowing his head solemnly. “Such a gift. Exquisite.” “Maybe you can thank her later!” quipped Vinyl. “But maybe not tonight, know what I mean?” She flirted with her tail. Michian’s eyes were wide. “I wonder if I do…” Vinyl suddenly realized that she had no real proof that Michian meant to screw the old lady mare, and she’d first assumed she could tell him to do it, and then turned around and told him to delay it. “I um, I, I…” He bowed his head. “Never mind. Just know, my dear DJ Pon-3, I stand ready to assist. I look forward to enjoying your performance, and I can’t wait to see what you can do!” Vinyl stared, while dozens of extremely raunchy DJ Pon-3 remarks tried to come to her lips. Not one of them seemed to fit this strange, gentle stallion, whose eyes held the peace of a Kirin, whose confidence was unrippled by any sort of rude flirtation. She was speechless for seconds, drowning in his eyes. “Gotta go set up!” she squeaked, and began to gallop off. Then, she screeched to a halt, turned, trotted back, lifted both decks with her horn, put them down again, neatly removed and folded the new deck-drapes for she didn’t trust herself to do that while holding the decks up, lifted the decks again, and trotted away quickly. Michian’nai-sha, bemused, watched her go. His tail flicked, then flicked again. Then an ear. Then, he too wandered off. …around town, mingling with new fans and soon-to-be fans, her decks set up and ready, Octavia’s set approaching. Vinyl felt distracted and unsettled, and as another two ponies approached her, she realized again that she hadn’t polished her shades. She hit the ponies with a bright and glittering grin, anyway. She mingled, talking foolish bravado and complimenting the ponies she met, drawing them into the DJ Pon-3 Coolness Aura. It was an attitude she’d picked up in Fillydelphia: she had a knack of making ponies think they were privileged just to be hanging out with her. It was a radiance of stardom based on confidence and tailored by playfulness and flirtatiousness, colored by her brazen sexuality and thundercunt athleticism: hanging out with DJ Pon-3, you felt like anything could happen to anypony, and whatever it was, it was gonna be the sexiest, least inhibited thing ever. Michian’nai-sha didn’t count. She furtively avoided him, for she’d not worked out the right approach, still. Or polished her shades. She kept meeting other ponies, hearing conversations, barging into them and being thrilled and amazed by the crazy news. Earth ponies chattered about sightings of a Weird Monster. It was apparently the most terrifying Monster in years, and there was much speculation about which town’s pegasi would destroy it. Unicorns gossiped about activity among the Kirin: apparently something was happening, they were gathering to hunt for something. What the Kirin proposed to hunt remained locked in obscurity, but the consensus among the unicorns was that the Kirin, in turn, were more anxious than they’d been for ages. Some argued that Kirin would never be anxious. Older unicorns were polite about this, but Vinyl could tell they didn’t buy it. What was going on, that would worry the Kirin? Vinyl hoped it had nothing to do with her. …heading to dinner, before she even knew it. Michian wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Had he gone off with that cloth-maker mare? Vinyl picked at her daikons and squash, distracted. Big Macintosh approached. In his mouth was a bouquet of flowers. His eyes a wordless plea asking forgiveness, he presented Vinyl with the flowers. Vinyl teared up, hugged him, accepted the flowers. They were delicious. Wiping her eye, she noticed she still hadn’t cleaned her damn shades, but there was no time… Octavia was beginning to play, the rich plummy tones of her cello resonating outward from the bandstand as ponies began to gather, entranced. Vinyl trotted out to join them, putting on the armor of DJ Pon-3: that brassy self-confidence and inner focus. It made it easier, that she was transitioning into performance mode. Experiencing other ponies not as threats or challenges, but as vibrations: energy centers that she could read, a massed equine throb that produced a wave she could ride. If she was good enough… She’d be good enough, Vinyl Scratch told herself. Then, afterwards… she would see. Octavia wowed ‘em. There was no fumbling. That mare could be counted on to deliver on the real gigs, thought Vinyl… or, rather, DJ Pon-3. A certain detachment stayed with her when she got into DJ-mind, and she tended to see her best friend’s artistic exploits mostly in terms of how they hit the audience. Octavia did as well, in her way, but Octavia didn’t count the house, and DJ Pon-3 knew exactly how many ponies were in the audience and had a pretty good sense of ticket prices. Of course, that was more a Fillydelphia and Canterlot thing. Ponyville was more innocent and she’d often performed for nothing in Ponyville, because it was just about community, and that made her feel at home. Probably because here, there was also that sense of community and you impressed not so much with a huge sack of bits, and more with your generosity and ability to share your gifts… …which was going to happen in less than a minute, Octavia was very near the final bars of her last piece! Vinyl Scratch frantically trotted through the crowd, unable to gallop because there were too many ponies in the way, and reached the edge of the stage, at the back. She gazed up at her decks. She shut her eyes, took a deep breath, emptied her mind… and DJ Pon-3 stepped up onto the stage, just as Octavia finished with a triumphant final chord. …walking up to her faithfully awaiting decks, DJ Pon-3 realized she still hadn’t polished her trademark shades. Behind them, for just an instant, a frightened look flashed across her eyes. It wasn’t a long instant. She grinned cockily at the crowd. It was her crowd. All crowds were really her crowd. They just took different amounts of time to learn it. Head lowered, platter pre-selected, Pon-3 went for an obscure but trustworthy throb to get things moving. Track came out of Mareheim. It was a weird track, and the pegasus who made it wasn’t entirely happy with how she used it: it was a 45 and she started it at lower than 33 RPM and never played the whole thing. It was the intro that she wanted, and a certain transition. She watched the crowd as they began to move to the submarine throb. DJ Pon-3 was ready when the brassy musical stabs began to come in, and she began ramping up the speed, faster and faster, at just the time that the original musician had inexplicably chosen to wind DOWN the tempo. He’d explained it to her once, pouting: some theory about making the beat heavier and heavier. Really, what he was doing was bringing it closer to what a dance floor could handle—Mareheim had some really insane clubs, not representative of typical pony dance floors at all. Even then, he kept it Mareheim and in the original recording he’d dropped it down to a tempo that would still burn out a less pegasi-oriented dance floor in minutes. She watched closely, as the crowd was galvanized by the sounds swooping upward in pitch, while the tempo mostly stayed the same… except that it, too, was ramping up as she pushed the beat, and… there! She transitioned to one of her signature tracks, out of Zebrica, a zebra mare who lived near the border and dared travel via unicorn-powered magic portals. She had brought in sonic elements from Canterlot and Mareheim and incorporated that into her sound, producing a sexy grinding throb that was still very stark and forbidding, lacking warmth and prettiness. DJ Pon-3 promptly threw another record on to replace the intro Mareheim track, cued it and got it synced just right, and a Canterlot musician entirely unrelated to dance music provided the warmth and prettiness, plus an expected strange fascinating twist once the largely acoustic track modulated to a key that would enter roughly where the Zebrican track would hit a rhythmic break. There were some lingering melodic elements in the rhythm track, but they’d seem alien and weird against a foreign key. And then, yank the acoustic overlay out when the Zebrican track dropped its bass—done—and switch to… She blinked, behind the shades. These ponies weren’t going according to plan. She had some of them, but a few in the rear were backing off, looking distressed. Worse, a few ponies in the front were just watching, not dancing. They looked impressed, but DJ Pon-3 was not a spectator sport as far as she was concerned. Nobody saw the worry in her eyes, and her grin and waving hoof didn’t flag for a moment, but her horn lit extra bright as she rifled through carefully organized stacks of records, and hastily grabbed one… Hints of a madly whirling musical motif entered, as she brought in the new platter spinning extra fast, then deftly slowed it and dragged the signature track just a bit as it hit a big orchestral stab, causing a lurch. That was bad mojo, and the Zebrican producer would’ve been furious and Fillydelphia would have laughed at her, but it was also distraction to cover an important adjustment. She watched from behind the shades, her jaw tight, seeing if it had worked—and it had. The overtired ponies at the back sensed the cooling off of the beat, and they came back, bouncing on their hooves in relief, while half the gawkers lining the stage squealed at her stunt and began bouncing in glee. The adjustment had changed the tempo one beat per minute. Nothing more… but she had ‘em. …waving her hoof in the air, DJ Pon-3 ran through an audacious tracklist, being careful not to demand too much of the innocent Neighponnese audience. They knew about dancing, but they couldn’t handle a full-on Fillydelphia nightclub, and only pegasi could handle a pure Mareheim dancefloor. The curious thing was, if you cranked up the Mareheim beat until the pegasi were succumbing to attrition, feathers flying everywhere and dancers being dragged comatose off the floor, you started to get into a zone where the unicorns with their graceful flowing liquid moves began to get involved. That was what you might call an advanced move, knowing that zone was there. The Neighponnese crowd was mostly earth ponies. They bounced, flicking their tails, rubbing up against each other lewdly. DJ Pon-3 looked for Michian’nai-sha, but couldn’t find him, and put it out of her mind. Couldn’t do two things at once. Well, she thought, remembering certain very wild gigs: could do two things at once, had done, definitely shouldn’t. Especially not at a gig where she hoped to impress an important promoter. Her sexual favors didn’t mean shit unless she could also light up the dance floor. There were key changes, texture changes, she knew she could throw in. She did all of ‘em, flawlessly. Her mixer had a magic-controlled gizmo called an isolator: using it, she smoothed the beat out to nothing but a thumping, and threw in a series of pulsing moves that transformed the whole texture of the music into a building wave of increasing brightness, bursting out and then subsiding and bursting again, a little more sparkly each time as the audience cheered and shook their tails. Some of the unicorns began shooting sparks, interpreting what she was doing. She hastily completed that stunt and got ‘em dancing again, for she had other plans… …working her set up to a climax, DJ Pon-3 dove into her crates for the hybrid Zebrican/Mareheim stuff again, along with a special track out of Saddle Arabia she reserved for special moments. She watched the audience like a hawk, and finally spotted Michian and made mental note of where he was at. He was dancing. Nothing equine could resist her beat at the height of her powers, and of course he was dancing, though he looked like he was trying to stay reserved. DJ Pon-3’s grin quirked at the corner. Reserve THIS. As she allowed the final build to surge up, using the isolator and building it in waves, she prepared the secret record, and got it spinning terribly fast. If anypony had listened to that part normally, they’d have been horrified at how the treble had been all worn off by such treatment, but Pon-3 had just one way she used this track and she began sneaking in its sound as a bright, near-supersonic twittering against the throbbing bass of yet another signature track. And she drove and drove and DROVE the dancefloor, knowing the way this track built and even ramped its tempo, and she launched the whole thing into a riot of surging and still expanding beats as the twittering contrast got louder and louder, fighting and merging with the beat, and as everything exploded in chaos she got the turntable platter spinning steady and kept the record slipping and whirling on the turning mat and readied the isolator and… SCHWOOOM! …hit the breakdown of the Zebrican track perfectly, in spite of the faint ramping of tempo it had, while whirling the second track down into its bloom of atmospheric loveliness. She had never failed to sync that transition, and the bloom section had never been subjected to insane high speeds, and its grooves were mostly unharmed: the only damage they suffered was suffered once more, stoically, as the diamond in the turntable needle glowed red-hot for a moment while it recovered. All the unicorns in the audience climaxed, gouts of lovely horngasm spurting up into the air, while among them, the earth ponies and pegasi came just as enthusiastically. DJ Pon-3 sternly repressed the naughty urge to quip, in Ponyville fashion, “Now that’s how we do it down on the farm!” Her grin showed her amusement, however. Her grin flagged for a moment. No, not all the unicorns. Michian’nai-sha was visible. He was grimacing. The hell? He was gritting his teeth. Vinyl Scratch’s heart jumped in her chest. DJ Pon-3’s smile promptly returned to ‘maximum cocky little grin’, and she bowed playfully for her people as they screamed their approval. …and then somehow she was already backstage, having taken her bows and applause, and was pushing out into the milling crowd of ponies, her heart pounding. They thronged her, and she scanned the fringes of the crowd, and praise Celestia! There he was, quite a ways back but not trying to leave. It seemed he entertained some ideas of greeting her anyway, whatever that grimace had meant. DJ Pon-3 proceeded to get herself over to him, in purely DJ Pon-3 fashion. “Hey, beautiful!” she cried, embracing and kissing entirely another pony who happened to be in between herself and Michian. “Wow, look at you!” she squealed delightedly at a pegasus who was rearing, showing off his pony hard-on. With a wicked grin, she slipped under him and squeezed out from between his hind legs, still on a path for her quarry. Feeling her petite celebrity body rubbing against his cock and her tail playfully tickling his balls, the pegasus whinnied and came all over a neighboring unicorn, who squealed in dismay and was then appeased as four mares pounced him and proceeded to lick him off… in every sense. Just another DJ Pon-3 gig, among the excitable ponies. Bass really did something to the pony libido when you dropped it just right. Probably had to do with keeping pony heart rates at a state of high excitement for so long. And there he was, his eyes wide, checking her out as she trotted saucily right up to him. “Hiiii!” said DJ Pon-3, tilting her head playfully, ears perked up in full attention that was directed fully and entirely upon him. “Hello,” he said, weakly. “Forgive me. I’m a little… overwhelmed!” DJ Pon-3 cackled. “Yeah! I have that effect sometimes.” “That effect?” “Lots of effects,” said DJ Pon-3. “There’s one effect I sometimes get myself. Well, okay, always. Know what I mean?” Michian took a deep breath. “From the looks of it, you’re eager to tell me.” She stepped closer. “Yeah, I’m mega horny. Whatcha doin’?” Michian’s eyes widened. “Oh my. Am I reading too much into that? Mistress of music, thumper of thumps?” DJ Pon-3 cackled again, her trademark raunchy raucous laugh. “Whoa there! That’s YOUR department, cutie!” she said, and nuzzled his neck, and was reminded again that she still hadn’t polished her damn shades. He gulped. “That’s very sweet of you…” FUCK. “I… I mean,” stammered DJ Pon-3, clinging to her persona, “thumper of RUMPS am I right? I talked to a… no, what I mean is, I like the look of you cutie, and I volunteer to be the thumped-upon rump, here or wherever ya like ‘cos a really hot gig always works me up…” “Yay!” squeed a nearby earth pony mare. “Michian’s gonna fuck the DJ! Let’s watch!” He shot a hurt look at her, and turned back to Pon-3. “Firstly, I accept. It is my honor, in fact, you are a true artist. But I had something a little different in mind.” DJ Pon-3’s eyes were almost wider than her shades. “What’s that?” “Come with me.” She hadn’t even had time for a quip. The crowd erupted in a single cheer, and suddenly she and Michian’nai-sha were being carried by the crowd to the edge of the field and into the town. “That’s enough!” called Michian. “Back to your fun, good ponies!” Giggling, they plunked him and DJ Pon-3 down with a thud on the grass, and stampeded merrily back to the bandstand, where a pony orgy already awaited them. DJ Pon-3 and Michian’nai-sha stared at each other… Her shades had come off. They’d landed in a mud puddle. There was no hope of cleaning or polishing them in order to deliver a proper DJ Pon-3 look, and their absence was the last straw for DJ Pon-3’s precarious nerves, rattled by all the drama and close calls and unexpected events. And so, Vinyl Scratch and Michian’nai-sha stared at each other, and Vinyl’s lip quivered. Her eyes were huge. “Here?” she squeaked, without any of the bravado she’d been cultivating. Michian smiled, and he leaned forward and kissed her nose. “I can do better.” “Can ya?” she said, and tried to pull herself together. “Great! I can do better too, in fact I can do ya so amazingly you won’t even believe it, just let me…” Her eyes crossed. He was booping her nose. “Sh. Do you know what I saw today?” “Don’t you mean tonight?” said Vinyl. “No, I mean today,” said Michian. “Tonight I saw a great artist. Also,” he winked, “a very desirable mare, let’s get that straight. You seem very eager to bed me, and I’m delighted. But, my dear DJ Pon-3, today I saw a little unicorn have a very busy day. Isn’t that so?” “Oh…” “I saw her help her cellist friend, who has some things to learn about living the artist’s life and managing her creative impulses…” “She was great!” squeaked Vinyl, wide-eyed and alarmed. “Wasn’t she great? You have to admit when it came to the actual concert…” “Shh,” soothed Michian. “You’re not wrong. And it’s okay for great talents to need a little personal management… though usually this is done by a road manager or road crew, and not by the headlining act! But I digress. I saw this little unicorn organize support for her friend, and I heard what happened…” Vinyl’s lip quivered again. “And I saw her running through town on some errand, presumably to replace things that were damaged in the accident with what apparently was breakfast?” Vinyl nodded. “Yeah. Don’t hold it against Big Macintosh! He was doing his best.” “Of course not.” Vinyl gulped, and then gave the elegant Neighponnese unicorn a hard look. “And this has to do with me fuckin’ you until you’re even more delighted… how?” He dropped his gaze humbly, and then peered up and there was a DJ Pon-3 like fire in his eyes. “Oh no no, Miss Pon-3. You’ve had a hard day. It’s getting late. Please allow me the privilege of making love to you until YOU are delighted.” A smile crept across Vinyl’s face. “Aww!” “I mean it,” warned Michian. “Don’t worry about me. My delight is your delight. I’ll be fine. You’re worked up? Let me show YOU a good time.” “Yay!” squeaked Vinyl, bouncing up to her hooves, reassured that her plans were going well at last. “Uht!” said Michian, and his horn lit. “Not so fast! I think this is yours?” He lifted her muddied, but intact, shades. She batted her eyelashes at him. “Those belong to DJ Pon-3,” she said. “That’s me as well, like a public me, for gigs. But you? Hey… call me Vinyl. And sure… yeah, that sounds really nice.” “I intend it to be,” said Michian, gravely. “Come this way.” She nuzzled against him as they walked, feeling extremely lucky. “Y’know, I am kinda good at that stuff. Do I get to put on my own show? You know, do ya right? You’re a sweetie, Michian’nai-sha, I’d like to do that.” “If the spirit so moves you,” he said, “I shan’t complain. I’m trying to tell you that you don’t have to perform. Let me do my thing, if I may. I… it would be very special, for me. And, you know, I am no slouch myself.” “Giant horsecock?” wondered Vinyl. “Hips of steel, mare-pounding power?” Michian snorted. “Pah. Sort of. I will ask you not to demand calisthenics and rodeos.” “You know about rodeos! We have those back where I live!” cried Scratch. “I know many things. Come with me.” “Ya don’t have to ask twice,” purred Vinyl, nuzzling him again. “Thrice.” …trotting, eager, flirting on the way until she was winking and he had a impressive erection bouncing around under him, they approached a well-kept house. “Your house? Lover?” teased Vinyl. “Do I have to wait until we get in? For you to get in?” “My third house,” said Michian, his head proud and high. “Which is in this town, and I’m glad of that right now. One’s in the capital city, and one got infested with pink demons… it was on a mountain pass, quite isolated.” “Oh no! What happened?” “All the carpets got ruined with pudding. Don’t ask,” said Michian. “Anyhow, please wait! I’d prefer to be inside. We’ll draw the curtains.” “Ya like privacy?” asked Vinyl. “For some very intimate moments, yes I do,” said Michian. She broke into a cute little gallop and ran right into the house, laughing to feel him close behind, his breath on her tail. His horn lit, and curtains all around slid on curtain-rods, and the door shut firmly. She glanced, and the curtains seemed heavy… and she realized they were chain-mail. “Protection?” “In a sense.” Then, Vinyl Scratch gasped. Michian’nai-sha had seized her pert little buttock in his teeth, but it wasn’t exactly a bite. He flared his lip back in a snarl, savoring her scents, but rather than painfully nip her, the unicorn stallion had taken a big mouthful of Pon-3 rump and just sensuously wiggled it with his teeth. She glanced back in startlement, and saw only the huge smile on his face, and the confident, naughty look in his eyes. “OH yeah,” panted Vinyl, and braced herself, shivering with desire. “Allow me to melt your cares away,” he said decorously, releasing her quivery rump. This got him a squeal of lustiness, and his ears perked forward, his eyes glittering. With a well-coordinated heave, he mounted. Before she could wink three times, he’d entered: a bold shove, and his flare had squeezed juicily into her pussy. He was big for Neighpon! Not so thick, but a lovely flare, bulky and expanding smoothly to its widest point. She felt the bulk of him begin to move, and it was excellent and measured and calm, not jabbing her but exploring comfortably as his forelegs tenderly gripped her body, his cheek nuzzling her neck. Without looking, she knew he’d closed his eyes: there was something in the posture when a stallion closed his eyes and just got snuggly that way… Her eyes widened, and she let out a squeak. He’d resettled his hooves, shifted his grip, and pulled out. Before she could draw a breath, she felt that nice solid flare pressing firmly into her again, quick enough that she’d not cramp on it, giving her another taste of that moment but better, since she’d warmed up and got used to his size. It wasn’t a huge size, but she felt all of it as he worked his magic. Vinyl’s mouth fell open in a goofy smile of delight. So nice! She decided to give him a treat as well, and the next time he pulled out, she tensed and tightened herself, giving him a spectacularly taut vagina to press into… “No,” he whispered into her ear, sympathetically. “I’m sure you can do that. Let me please you. Relax.” Ears quirked, Vinyl relented, and felt the stiff horsecock press lovingly into her again. Seriously, she thought? But he did have a point. She’d automatically gone for stallion-pleaser mode. This one wanted to be in control. That could be awful sexy, too. Vinyl nuzzled back against Michian’s affectionate, warm neck, kissed the side of his face. His eyes were closed again. Dear Celestia, this guy felt good to have on you. Vinyl panted. He loved that trick of pulling out and then firmly entering you again, but that wasn’t all he had, not by a long shot. Michian could set up a fantastic surging, a sort of thrust that powerfully took her and plunged into her, but he seemed to have an amazing sense for what would feel comfortable and good. She squealed, and recalibrated that in a hurry: the guy, the fucking amazing guy had a sense for UNcomfortable and good, and he just loved to flirt with that line. Her heart was in her throat, but in the nicest way, because it was never quite alarming. It didn’t hurt, but he seemed to be able to read her body with unbelievable skill. And he was tireless, smooth as silk, and just when her eyes began to roll back in her head, he’d… sweetCELESTIA! playfully deal her another jolt, just to wake her up. He was just big enough to do it, or else he had a very good sense of how deep to plunge in her. Vinyl began to hyperventilate and wriggle in his forelegs, winking like a maniac around his lovingly plunging horsecock. She squealed again. It was just too good! Her body shuddered, and then in spite of her willing efforts to relax for him… something she was ecstatic to do, rewarded by his deft horsecockmanship… she began to clench, and heard him grunt in surprise. She was a very special little pony in certain ways. She did exercises. Her pussy began to wail on his shaft in earnest, spasming as if he’d stuck his dick into some kind of industrial milking machine. It didn’t faze him… but she could feel him get more determined. He tensed over her, and he just kept up his motions. He didn’t try to pull out, and didn’t jolt her again, but he kept moving, even as obscene juicy sounds filled the air and her pussy gushed lube as she came. She squealed again, and couldn’t stop coming. She was so slick around him that he could have taken to pounding her ruthlessly, her psyche begged for it and yet he stuck to his course. Vinyl was nuzzling his neck and howling her pleasures to the ceiling, her body shaking as orgasms rocked her, when she felt him tense up. His teeth gritted, just like they had at the gig. She didn’t know how she knew, but she felt it, and then… “Gnnnh!” Horsecome gushed into her, even as Michian’s raging hard-on continued to eagerly plumb her cozy depths. She felt it, viscous spurts, and she screamed in pleasure and pressed her neck fervently against his, and she savored his loving grip around her body, and her pussy clung and clenched to him and it went on and on and on, herself able to keep it going, himself milking it for all he was worth and she felt the longing in him as he clung shivering to her and pumped gout after gout of semen into her womb, shuddering with obvious adoration and nudging that throbbing hard-on as if in sheer reverence, wrapping himself around her like she was the only pony in the world… “gheeeh!” Vinyl Scratch, pleasured beyond endurance, squealed a cute little squeal and horngasmed, her horn spurting out a little sploosh of magic. “hRRRRHhhh!” Michian’nai-sha erupted in horngasm. All that he had held back at the climax of the gig, all that was in him, burst forth and earthed itself in Vinyl Scratch. She couldn’t even squeal: the pleasure, the lovedness and emotional connection he’d been coaxing along, was suddenly her whole world. Cyan-blue magic gushed into her even as a final spasm of horsecome spurted into her womb, and she stared at nothing, transfixed, blinded with orgasm, her soul drenched in an aura of pure love. The magic scintillated, brought with it a deep understanding of how Michian felt, and it was a breathtaking feeling. He’d needed this so badly. Vinyl, wrapped in his trembling embrace, vulnerable in her orgasmic state, couldn’t resist it in the least. Her heart went out to him in those moments, with his cock sunk so deeply and lovingly into her, his neck pressed against hers as if trying to twine around her, feeling his heart pounding against her back, and the magic still locked on to her horn and radiating through her whole body, bringing the aura of Michian’nai-sha tingling out to the tips of her hooves… He sagged, and couldn’t maintain it, and the horngasm cut out. Vinyl was no longer illuminated: she panted, flooded with pleasure, and she felt him soften, dismount, the horsecock tugging out of her. She staggered, and though he was unsteady himself he caught her, and she felt his heart pounding against her, and she looked up, her eyes full of wonder… He was weeping. He smiled. It was a quivery smile, but… sorry? Her eyes went very wide, trying to understand. “Thank you,” he said. “Oh, thank you…” That wasn’t right, it couldn’t be right, she thought. Thank her? HER? He was a miracle, a deity, what could he have to thank HER about? She licked her lips, still wobbling, but before she could speak, he was talking again. “W—we can go and see the Kirin. If you need to. It would of course be the correct thing to do,” said Michian, as if by rote. “Perhaps not right this minute, but we are in Neighpon which is my home, and I would not be Michian were I not responsible for…” “Oh!” said Vinyl. There was a sadness coming from him, and she knew damn well why, and hastened to reassure him. “Oh, honey! Don’t worry. It’s okay, we’re not breaking any rules. I have it taken care of. I, I, there’s actually a Ponyville thing with a herb you take, earth pony’s friend…” He gave a little jolt, and the sadness worsened. “Yes, we must all be earth ponies’ friends…” “I just mean, it’s okay! Oh my GAWWWD that was so wonderful, I’m so touched I can’t even, and I promise I didn’t get pregnant off that. I come from here, okay? A long time ago. I’m no dumb pony, I know the rules…” He kept wincing. Vinyl died a thousand deaths to see that: every word seemed to make it worse. He had been in her, his horngasm had been in her, she understood him now… and what he wanted, most deep in his heart, wasn’t allowed. There would be no herd of unicorn foals for Michian’nai-sha. She looked around at his house… his third house. It was very beautiful for a cage. Or not quite a cage… she looked back at him, and his mouth had tightened. The sadness now had a touch of self-pity, even resentment, and Vinyl looked at him, at the beauty of him, and she saw that he would remain Michian’nai-sha… he’d accepted the bargain he’d made. He was no celebrity-pony in Fillydelphia, or in Mareheim, or in Ponyville. She was those things. He was in Neighpon… and she could see that he was going to remain in Neighpon, remain Michian’nai-sha, remain his own sad kind of beautiful. She looked back at him, beginning to cry, wondering if he was going to say ‘You should go’. She found herself strained in an impassioned, fervent hug, and they clung for a moment. “Thank you,” he said, instead. …walking unsteadily back to the cart, not sure quite how she’d got herself there. Eyes luminous with unspilled tears, body still floating on a haze of pleasure, his come tenderly coating her unwelcoming uterus. Everything had happened, nothing would happen. Vinyl heaved a trembly sigh. “It’s her!” squeaked Octavia, and she and Big Macintosh peeked out, to see Vinyl make her wobbly way up to them and rejoin them. Octavia and Vinyl gazed at each other. “But your sunglasses, Scratchie?” Vinyl gulped. Her horn lit. From a cozy place in her mane, the DJ Pon-3 shades lifted up, came into view. They were spotless. She didn’t remember that. Michian must have done it. Of course he had. “Did he like you?” said Octavia uncertainly. Her eyes widened. “Oh, Scratchie, your horn! Did he like you, was it good? Scratchie?” Vinyl’s lip quivered woefully, and her eyes glistened. “YES!” she wailed, and burst into tears, and was swept up in Octavia’s embrace… and Big Macintosh’s, and he helped them get into the cart where they could cuddle and later, sleep in comfort. And on into the night, Octavia’s soothing voice could be heard, as she tirelessly cuddled a sobbing unicorn, who had no more stardom left for the day. “…and listen, I think you made him as happy as he possibly could be. Do you understand, dear Scratchie? You both did the best that you could.” “…uh-huh.” “And I think it’s a shame he couldn’t follow through and go with you, if he’s so wonderful and nice…” “His home is here,” said Vinyl forlornly. “I understand that.” “Well then, it’s a shame and a disgrace they can’t let you accept his foal and carry it through the tour and back home to Ponyville, since it would mean so much to him apparently…” “No, Tavi,” pleaded Vinyl Scratch. “It’s not our way. Please don’t argue. Neighpon does things differently. We have Kirin.” “To meddle in your lives,” grumbled Octavia, her ears back. “In your most intimate lives.” Vinyl wiped a tear. “I…” “Yes, Scratchie, lovie?” “Now I know what the renegades felt like,” said Scratch miserably. “The ones that tried to take over.” Octavia regarded her, warily. “Is that good?” Scratch sat for a moment, cuddled in soft earth pony forelegs. “No,” she said. “No, it isn’t. I trust the Kirin. I’m not that good. He’s not that good. What we’re doing now is the best way we can be with our lives. Breeding a race of unicorns and ruling Neighpon isn’t even what I want.” “Why do you think that’s what he would want? This, um, Michian’nai-sha?” Vinyl snuggled gently against Octavia. When she spoke, it was soft and foalish. “You can’t understand. We’re just clever ponies with magic horns, but he felt like so much more… and I felt like so much more, to him. I understand what happened to the renegades. I understand why they felt they should rule… but, Tavi, I’m not like that. And this Michian, this amazing compassionate powerful smart pony… he’s not like that either. He has humility. He’s a booking agent. That’s all. Not a King, or an Emperor. He’s just a pony, with a magic horn.” Octavia, not inexperienced in being reduced to quivering adulation on the end of a stallion, quirked her ears. “Did he feel like a King?” “He felt like a God,” said Vinyl softly. “Hm. Well,” said Octavia, “did you please him? This Pony-God of total benevolence and wisdom?” Vinyl wriggled against Octavia, her body warm. “It was the same for him,” she said. “I could tell. I was his Goddess, just for a night. And then it was over. I won’t see him again.” “Vinyl?” said Octavia gently. “I know you’re hurting. I’ll stay with you as long as you need… and I even kind of understand what you mean, and you’re right: from what you tell me, you probably won’t see him again. And from what you tell me, I don’t think you could have expected more. Remember? You were mostly worried you wouldn’t be able to impress this guy enough. Foaling was NOT on the menu, and three hours ago you’d have laughed at me for suggesting it… all you wanted to do, all you even hoped to do, was get this guy in the sack and put on enough of a show that he’d be favorably disposed to you… to us.” Vinyl sniffled, and gave Octavia a cranky look. “Okay, go ahead. You know I deserve it, and you’re kind of right. Say it, I know you’re thinking it.” “Well,” said Octavia, “it seems like everything went according to plan.” She petted Vinyl’s mane, apologetically. Vinyl shut her eyes and snuggled against Octavia, her lower lip pouting. “Stupid plan,” she said. Octavia cuddled her closer, settling in for the night. Tomorrow was another gig.
HardcoreFor all that he was a Kirin, Daitana skulked like he was a fugitive. “Oh, hello!” said the earth pony mare, stopping as she crossed the street, staring at Daitana with apparent delight. “Are you here to save us?” “Do you need saving?” asked Kichona. “We’re pleased to meet you. Have you seen a group of musicians traveling nearby? We’d like to hear them perform, and we keep missing them.” “They played in the town neighboring us, two days ago!” said the earth pony mare. “They’re heading north.” “So are we,” said Daitana. She glanced at him again. “Are you well, master? You seem thin. You are hungry! I will go fetch our best unicorn!” “That’s all right!” protested Daitana. “Never mind that, tell me why you need to be saved! Not that I’m promising anything…” The earth pony mare frowned, counting to herself. “You speak strangely. For a Kirin, I mean.” “He’s fine,” said Kichona, “it’s all fine. What’s this about being saved?” The mare blinked. “Oh! It’s the Monster. Are you here to save us from the weird monster?” Daitana boggled at her. “Really? But that is only… I mean, um…” He gathered his wits. “Trust my words this day. You are in no danger here. I’ll… uh… scare it away?” The mare bounced. “Yay! Everypony says there’s the worst monster ever, coming to our town. It came from the seaside and rampages across Neighpon, shrieking and attacking ponies!” Daitana’s jaw dropped. “But that’s impossible. Don’t you know? The Weird Monsters are only…” Beside him, Kichona frisked. “Yay! How exciting, I’ve always wanted to see one! Daitana will protect me and this whole town, but I’ll finally see a real Monster!” Daitana gawked at her, stunned, and hastily changed his statement. “…dangerous to wicked ponies. Um, that’s it. Very exciting, yes, but you’re in no danger from them, I promise that is the most true thing you’ll ever hear.” The mare blinked. “Are you a real Kirin?” “What else would I be?” “I don’t know,” said the mare, “something else dressed up as a Kirin? Sometimes you don’t talk right, and you’re not walking on mists or rainbows, and you seem so thin.” “We, um, we…” began Daitana, and then struggled to phrase things in courtly Kirin diction. “The cherry blossoms again—talk as well as me—which isn’t saying that much. Ahem… We don’t need to speak—of things dressed up as things, here—just trust me, you’re safe.” “Safe from what?” asked another earth pony mare, trotting by. “From the terrible Weird Monster that’s coming here!” replied the first earth pony mare. “Eee!” The second mare fell over in a faint. Kichona gasped, and rushed to her aid. “Poor thing! Don’t be afraid, my darling will protect you!” “What darling?” blinked the first earth pony mare. “Daitana, here!” The first earth pony mare blinked again, and craned her neck, trying to look past the Kirin and find whoever Kichona was talking about. “Just trust us,” said Daitana urgently. “You are safe. Kichona, please come with me!” He trotted off to the north, and Kichona followed after petting the fallen mare’s mane and giving her a little kiss. “Kichona, don’t you know about Weird Monsters?” asked Daitana. “I guess I assumed, since you are my marefriend, that you knew.” “I would love to see one,” nickered Kichona, “since I know I would be safe with you. I think they’re beautiful. Nature is beautiful in many ways, isn’t it?” Daitana hesitated. “…yes,” he said, “yes it is.” “As long as it doesn’t hurt ponies,” said Kichona, “I hope it gets away. And it can be weird and fierce and beautiful somewhere in peace!” Daitana gulped. “I promise, it will not hurt ponies,” he said. Privately, he thought: pegasus ponies, either outside or inside the Monster, don’t entirely count. He drew a little nearer to Kichona, his mare, cheered by her fearlessness and kindness. Of course she believed the Monsters were real, yet wished them well. If she was a pegasus mare, decked out in pointy costume, or a unicorn that withheld her energy blasts for the sake of ponykind, then she’d know it was all part of the sometimes horrifying way that Neighpon worked through its impulses. If she was other than an earth pony mare, she would be privy to these secrets. As an earth pony mare, she was allowed to be silly and fooled by the costumed Monsters… but instead of being scared of them like a normal earth pony, she seemed to like them. “Kichona?” asked Daitana, as they cantered north. “Why do you hope it gets away? The Monster, I mean.” She nuzzled him happily. “They’re pretty! And… and they’re free. Until the pegasi get them, anyway.” She pouted. “It’s not really fair. Our pegasi are so fierce and savage, that nature’s monsters don’t stand up to them. There ought to be some sort of wildlife preserve for them, so they can be protected from ponies.” “And so you can see one?” “Uh-huh,” said Kichona, and nuzzled him again. “Someday. One day I will see a Monster. I’d like to paint a picture of it. We left my paints and brushes behind when we went to find the musicians. Oh, don’t pout, it’ll be all right! I don’t need to take my art everywhere I go. But I’m gonna paint one of the Monsters someday.” Daitana teared up. You’re centuries too late, he thought, and far too trusting. The real monsters would have eaten you up. But perhaps we can arrange to have you paint the costumed pegasi. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” said Daitana. “I’ll find you one, to paint.” As evening fell, pegasi whirled across the sky, hunting. “Where’d it go? Where’d it GO?” “This has to be the Monster that knocked Orokamono out of the sky with shrieks! The rogue one! It has to be this one!” “How is it so fast? Who is even running it? Look, we’re all here!” “Moeru isn’t, and he usually flies far north after good Monsters! Is it Moeru? He’ll be in such trouble!” “Moeru got attacked! Kantokusha said so! His head nearly got kicked in!” “No way! A full-on Monster? How long has it been since we had a Monster that bad?” “The Kirin don’t like it when the Monster is as bad as that!” “Who IS it? Where did you see it last?” “It’s… there! THERE IT IS!” With a war-cry, five pegasi warriors accelerated to converge upon the Weird Monster they saw half-concealed between the trees. On reflection, the war-cry could have been a tactical error. The Monster heard, and turned… and attacked. It bulleted toward them so hard that tatters of cloth were ripped free to tumble in the breeze, and when it closed on the tight formation of pegasus warriors, its padding spared it some of the blows the warriors had for it… but with a flail of a cerulean hoof, one pegasus warrior stalled and spun out, crashing through the trees, clonked on the head. Seeing this, the remaining four shrieked in exultant rage and snapped into a tightening pinwheel formation, cornering the Monster, blood in their eyes. It was on! They would show no mercy, they’d fight to the death just like the warriors of old. As one swerved in to deliver a killing blow, an ear-mangling squeak hit it full in the face. Again, a high-speed stall and loss of control, and another colorful winged pony fluttered down to the trees and bushes, even as the first one rose groggily from the foliage to fight again. The Monster swerved, making a break for it, trying to get over to a wooded area with heavy undergrowth, as if planning to hide there. “CUT IT OFF!” “GET IT!” “NO MERCY… AIIGH!” The third warrior had swerved too close, a fatal mistake. From the mouth of the Monster came a flickering orange flame, for all the world like a ball of wildly kicking filly moving too fast to see… and the warrior went down, kicked in the head and wing, losing neither but knocked out of the sky nonetheless. And then there were two, plus the groggy pegasus trying to regain altitude. “HAMMER AND ANVIL!” screamed one. “ON MY MARK!” replied the other, unhesitatingly. And out they arced, in two tight curves, and as the Monster dove for the trees and underbrush, the curves converged and accelerated… WHAM! “I got it! I GOT it!” cried the groggy pegasus, and she dove to tackle the floundering Monster. “Ow! Quit it!” “Hey, that’s ME!” “Stop, stop, it’s us now!” The dazed warrior slowed her battering hooves, and blinked. “What?” As she hovered, and as the third warrior flew up wincing and favoring one wing, the head of the Monster opened to reveal… the two pegasi who’d done the Hammer and Anvil maneuver, intending to smash together and splat the Monster between them. Instead, somehow they were wearing it. The four gawked at each other. “Did we win?” “We got it! And it was you all along!” “Why’d you hit me so hard? And you knocked out Kemuri with that screech! How did you do that, can you teach me how to do that?” “I did not! Go check on Kemuri. We were right there with you, it can’t have been us!” “But did we win?” The pegasi warriors looked at each other. “We totally won. Look, here’s its head.” “Yay!” “Let’s get Kemuri and go home and show the townsponies!” “…but who WAS that Weird Monster?” Hundreds of feet below, concealed in the underbrush, Rainbow Dash, Flight Lightning, Scootaloo, and Sweetie Belle huddled together being very quiet, until they heard the pegasi warriors go away. Through a tiny gap in the shrubbery, they saw that the pegasi were helping their sonically-stunned comrade along, and that he was stumbling all over the sky but was managing to keep up, mostly. Singing martial songs of triumph, they departed, bearing their trophy. “We’re gonna have to steal another costume,” said Rainbow Dash, quietly. As they traveled north and the capital of Neighpon approached, the crowds grew. Big Macintosh marveled, as he set up speaker columns, directed by a fiercely concentrating, attentively listening Octavia. In his experience, the bigger cities got, the cruddier they became. Canterlot was something of an exception because the hoity toity ponies who hung around with Princesses liked to keep their pretty buildings clean and shiny… but all the same, a farm pony only had to look and see that the greenery outside the Canterlot castle wasn’t nearly so well kept. And Fillydelphia… dang! You could say it was well fertilized. That was hard to deny. But it was shabby, from the city streets to the muddy roads to the cheerfully twisted ponies forever helping it live down to its notorious reputation. Neighpon was different. As the traveling musicians drew nearer to the capital, the greenery seemed to glow from within. The throngs of ponies flocking the streets seemed more cheerful, more prone to ‘yay!’ and frisk. The unicorns seemed haughtier, the pegasi more dramatic and courageous, their costumes pointier. As they traveled, they played gigs, and word spread far and wide. Octavia stunned listeners with the raw emotion of her expressive bow and put them through an emotional journey they’d not imagined possible from a cello. Big Macintosh kept an eye on her outside of the gigs, for she seemed to practice harder and harder and draw within herself: he’d expected her to have some fun with stallions on the way, but he’d not seen her pick out an audience member yet. And Vinyl Scratch, for all her proud Fillydelphian history, seemed to avoid sex ever since her night with the promoter. But, even more than Octavia, she laid it down, and whole packs of ponies attended their gigs and then galloped off as fast as they could to upcoming cities, giving notice and insisting their friends and relatives not miss the gig, and every gig got huger and more outrageous. When the evening came and Octavia and DJ Pon-3 delivered their musical double-whammy, they played to a sea of pony that surged like a real ocean. It even boasted whitecaps, and that wasn’t only the squirtings of excitable unicorns. Pegasi burst upwards out of the crowd in frenzies of feathery flapping, and one in particular, a white pegasus mare, seemed almost deranged with excitement. It didn’t occur to Big Macintosh to draw a distinction, but Vinyl Scratch watched the little jets of horngasm with a wry gaze from behind her rose-tinted shades. It was so different from Fillydelphia or Canterlot gigs. There were no magic light shows near Neighpon’s capital, other than the very organic spurts of raw magic which were never enough to cause serious burns or injury to nearby ponies. The unicorn light shows of Fillydelphia were actually much safer. Back near the coast, unicorns still produced light displays from their horns at dance parties. Unicorns making beams of light could be much safer than uncontained horngasm. But Vinyl had been surprised to see it, even near the coast. Unicorns making light beams explode from their horns, near the capital of Neighpon… was very bad form, and so they all bottled it up and spurted magic in a more erotic manner, both more prurient and more innocent… if you knew your history. Horngasm didn’t resemble the bolts of hostile magic unicorns had once used to make war on other ponies, so near the capital, horngasm was what you saw. Big Macintosh didn’t often try to join the dancing, anymore. The gigs were so packed, that he couldn’t justify taking up space that the Neighponnese ponies needed, plus he was the size of two of them. The little white pegasus fluttered up into view again: another example of the Neighponnese build. For all that she was slight, she was toned as hell, he thought. Very nice, actually… even her pegasus war garb wasn’t as pointy as the usual sort. It was pretty scanty, too… Big Macintosh’s eyes widened as he realized he wasn’t the only one ogling. She’d been appearing closer and closer to him, and as a unicorn magic-squirt reflected in her eyes, he realised that she was checking him out as much as he’d been checking her. Perhaps his evening’s entertainments could take a break from practicing on unicorns. If this crowd was any indication, these unicorns were so overflowing with magic that it was no great trick to get them squirting in orgasm. It was like their version of applause. The white pegasus popped up again, flapping like a crazy thing. A gout of horngasm splashed across her face. She didn’t flinch: perhaps liking the sting, she bared her teeth exultantly into it and that expression persisted as she dropped back into the heaving sea of pony once more. After DJ Pon-3’s spectacular final beats, Big Macintosh watched the crowd mill about, his ears quirked to the side in puzzlement. He’d lost sight of the white pegasus, and although it didn’t really matter all that much, still he felt disappointed: she really seemed to have a lot of attitude, and he’d had experience with lots of very attitudinous ponies and found ‘em exciting and enticing. It seemed like Hina would have to approve of him pleasuring the sparkiest, liveliest ponies… or would she? What if she expected him to seek out gentle mellow ponies, like Marble Pie back where he came from? Hina had personally overseen his screwing of Marble, and seemed well pleased with him over it. And then, after that, Hina had turned to him for her own needs. What if he was making a terrible mistake? What if she needed him to be faithful to her, what if she was pining away, never knowing he had crossed the sea and was travelling Neighpon just to be reunited with her? What would she say, would she be heartbroken and cry if she tasted some other mare’s pussy juice on his dick? Big Macintosh gazed tragically at nothing, his lip quivering. Something yanked on his tail, and he squealed like a filly and whirled around… It was the white pegasus. She looked even more manic than before, and grinned insanely at him. “HI!” she said. “Um… evenin’, ma’am,” rumbled Big Macintosh, blushing. She bounced up into the air off all four little hooves, with a squee of delight. “Yay!” “Yay?” blinked Big Macintosh. “You’re perfect!” “Ah am?” “You’re beautiful!” Big Macintosh blushed more. “Uh, uh, used to know a pony that said that. Uh… let’s not talk about that anymore?” “Give me exciting sex! The music makes my blood fizz! I must vent it!” On closer inspection, Big Macintosh saw that she was wearing little saddlebags. They clanked gently as she bounced. “Happens I was thinkin’ something a lil’ bit like that myself…” he said. “Yay! Come with me!” squeed the little white pegasus, and trotted off with great authority. Big Macintosh followed her, his ears perked forward, studying his would-be lover with interest. She wasn’t fooling. As she trotted, she winked merrily at him, glistening pink peeking out from between those toned rump-cheeks. He drew closer, and sniffed, and looked closely at her treasure: having had experience of a tiny unicorn who really shouldn’t have been playing with anything as well hung as him, Big Macintosh wanted to make sure it’d be safe to penetrate her… “WHOA! Hey!” he yelled. She had kicked at him, not once but three times in a wild flicker of movement that seemed barely controlled. She whirled, then whirled again to show him her pussy, then whirled again to protest, “No no, don’t stop! I didn’t mean it! Keep following me!” “Don’t ya want me seein’ your pretty?” argued Big Macintosh. “I thought Ah might fit up it, and then ya went for me!” “No, you will! You’ll see! I’m sorry! I promise we’ll fix it, don’t give up on me, please!” Big Macintosh drew alongside her, trotting vigorously, with high hoofsteps. “Now jes’ you calm down, missy, if ya want some Ponyville stallion action all’s ya got to do is ask nicely. Who’s givin’ up on who now?” She bounced again, and squealed. “Eee! I will! Calm down! You’ll see! Yay! You’re huge!” “Well y’see that’s why I was lookin’ so closely,” said Big Macintosh, “an’ forgive me if you don’t seem ta be calmin’ down all that much. Guess that’s all to th’ good, though?” “What for? What for to the good, what?” “Easy now, missy,” said Big Macintosh. The little white pegasus’s energy level was beginning to scare him. He was reminded of the unicorn who leapt about popping balloons with her horn when she came. He gulped, and continued, “I reckon I am a big feller compared to you, so if you want that pony thunder, you may need to be pretty worked up to take it.” “Eeee! eee! ee!” squealed the white pegasus, jumping clear over him and back again in a flail of hooves and wings. “WHOA!” yelled Big Macintosh. This time it was forehooves whizzing around his head. “Will ya cut that out? An’ who are you, anyhoof? Ah’m Big Macintosh.” At that, the pegasus stopped, and gazed at him… vibrating. “Hisanna! I’m Hisanna. Don’t worry. We’re almost there. It’ll be okay, hurry, hurry!” Big Macintosh trotted on, looking askance at her. “You figure I’ve got to get on ya real quick before you settle down? It did look like you were kinda small back there but I din’t think it was too much of a problem. Ah kin go gentle, ya know. Please don’t ask me to ram ya with all my strength on account of that sometimes don’t end well.” “No no,” said Hisanna. “It’s not like that. I’m tightened up far too much, eee! I know what to do. You’ll make me relax. And then we’ll make love and it will be beautiful. Are you what do you say, squeamish?” “Beg pardon?” “Blood, are you upset by blood?” she asked, still vibrating. “Ah double beg your pardon with nuts? Meanin’, are you nuts? Ma’am, Ah been trained by th’ best. If I ain’t bein’ a damnfool, I swear I won’t be hurtin’ your lil’ pegasus pussy. At least not in a bad way, if ya know what I mean?” “Yes yes! Good way! All the good ways. In here!” cried Hisanna. She swerved into a rather dingy little house, and Big Macintosh followed. It was a dump, untidy to the extent of Rarity in a major inspiration meltdown: but rather than giving the impression of powerful creative forces causing turmoil, there was a hint that this turmoil simply reflected the energies of this manic pegasus pony. He gawked at untidied plates, books open on top of other open books, an environment that suggested a pony who spent her time nearly exploding with untameable energy, and he followed her through the mess into… She faced him, and turned her head to frantically wrench at her saddlebags. The room was white, and tiled. The floor was tiled. There was a drain. And there were stains, and the unmistakable whiff of blood: not fresh, but that drain wasn’t for showering, nor bathing. The saddlebags came open, and disgorged their contents, which clanged on the ground. They were shiny and metallic and reminded Big Macintosh incongruously of Princess Celestia, because they were shoes, metal shoes. Boots, rather. And if they were Celestia’s, then she’d had a really, really bad day. Big Macintosh stared at four large spikey metal horse-boots strewn clattering across the shiny white tiles. He looked up at his manic pegasus mare. “I want you to stomp all over me wearing these,” she said, vibrating, her teeth gritted in a rictus grin, and her eye twitching. Big Macintosh sat down on the tiles, sticking his lower lip out. “Y’know what Ah want?” “What, what? Anything, I’ll do anything, what do you want, I’ll get it, I’ll give you ten of them! Name it!” “Ah want you to explain,” said Big Macintosh. “What th’ fuck is this?” She actually sagged. She also shuddered, with a grimace of what looked like pain. But then, she had explaining to do on exactly that subject, and Big Macintosh set his jaw. “Ah am waitin’!” he demanded. “I’m a nice pony, I am, and you best make this seem sensible. I got a good mind to go and get a Kirin!” “They’re never far,” she muttered. “Don’t ruin it for me? We probably have a few minutes. How can I convince you to give me what I need?” “They’re gonna bust in and STOP this consarned craziness?” blurted Big Macintosh. “I ain’t gettin’ in Kirin trouble over the likes of you!” “Nooo!” squealed Hisanna, and pounced, and suddenly she was hugging him with her forelegs, her wings rattling, her teeth chattering. “It’s not like that, please, don’t give up on me! They’ll totally let you, I just wanted it super intense! Please can you trample the fuck out of me, I swear the Kirin will understand, you can tell them I made you do it…” “Ah heard that excuse before,” insisted Big Macintosh. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest. She was shaking. He steeled himself. “You’re another one of them pervert-ponies, ain’t ya? Did Kirin do magic stuff to you so’s pain is pleasure? Ah ain’t playin’ them games. That ain’t for the likes of me.” “No!” cried Hisanna. She fixed him with a desperate gaze. “Do I have to spell it out?” Big Macintosh sighed. “Happens ya do. Why didn’t I pick out some nice lil’ unicorn nookie?” She shook him. “Giant horse… I am small, and tense, and very excited. I desperately want sex from you, and I cannot relax. I am one big knot.” “So?” “Including my pussy. I must BE relaxed to take you, and I crave that more than anything.” “So how am I s’posed to…” “Trample my wings,” said Hisanna urgently. Big Macintosh’s eyes flew wide. “Th’ hell you say! You want to have my foal? Wouldn’t be th’ first…” “No!” yelled Hisanna. She caught herself, and went on more quietly, as if trying to soothe his balky contrariness. “I see the Kirin regularly. Of course I will not make a foal. Nopony said that I would. Don’t you understand pegasus mares? How can you not understand what would happen?” Big Macintosh stared at her. “Go on. Let’s leave aside them mean-lookin’ horse-booties ya got there. I don’t like them things at all, missy. So you ain’t fixin’ to foal, but all the same you want… are you serious, trampling? Like, me walkin’ on your poor lil’ wings there? I heard of biting, but…” Hisanna moaned, an even more desperate look entering her eyes. “Uh, sorry,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens I do understand pegasuses. Mares, I mean. I’m sorry for talkin’ about biting your wings, I know that ain’t fair to a lady pegasus.” He frowned. “But wait a minute. What you want, that’s way the hell more intense. How exactly do you propose goin’ about this? You don’t look that beat up. Are you gonna, like, lie on your side or crouch down or…” At that, Hisanna broke from him. She flung herself onto her back, her wings spread out across the tiles, and she wailed, “Trample me! And then fuck me! And then trample me more!” Big Macintosh stared. “Um… you’re holdin’ your wings out flat. Almost like you mebbe know what you’re doin’ and it wouldn’t break nothin’ if you’re careful…” She started to speak, and then forced herself silent again… and lay there, ready for anything she could get him to do. “You ain’t foolin’ about one thing,” said Big Macintosh, “doin’ that to a lady pegasus, I reckon that would leave any mare a limp puddle of fuck-me.” He gulped. “Which I guess is the idea, huh? You really want a dickin’, then? And you figure you just cain’t relax enough, any other way?” Hisanna shuddered, lying on her back on the floor. In front of his eyes, her pussy winked good and hard. He prodded it with a hoof, and she wailed in sensual anguish. He gulped again. Her story checked out. She’d lubricated like mad, but there wasn’t much limpness to her. Couldn’t see up in there at all. Her body felt tense. “Ah see it’s this way,” said Big Macintosh. “But… Ma’am, I’ve seen some Neighponnese ponies. If you want this, tell me all of the truth. WHY do it gotta be this way? Tell me th’ whole truth, or Ah walk out of here right now.” Her ears laid back. She shuddered. But… she spoke, slowly and reluctantly. “You’re right. There… is more. The Kirin… are thorough. They heal me until I am full of energy and feel no pain.” “Yeah?” Hisanna winced. “I need it, giant horse. I don’t deserve to feel no pain. If I feel pain, it keeps me in check. I remember. I remember not to swoop down on innocent ponies. I don’t kick them in the head, instead I can rest for a time. I am not so compelled to fight, if I am c—crushed and broken. I remember other ponies c—can be hurt. And then the Kirin come and take the pain away, and I have to go find more pain. Do you see? I need your trampling. It makes me kind.” Big Macintosh scratched his head with a hoof. “Y’ever considered havin’ Kirin fix your fucked-up head, ma’am? I’m jes’ sayin’.” She glared at him. “I will remain Hisanna. How dare you? I am the greatest of warriors. But so many of the monsters are destroyed. I slew a dragon myself, that devoured townsponies, that went after foals as their mothers screamed helplessly. I must remain Hisanna, even if… Do not insult me again!” “Sorry!” said Big Macintosh, his ears laid back. This was what had been jumping over him, hoof-punching inches from his skull, yanking his tail? “You are forgiven… you are some foreign horse, doubtless you could not slay a dragon, you are one of those to be protected,” she said. “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, eyes wide. “But… okay, let me git this straight. You want me walkin’ on your wings so’s they’ll hurt and remind you to be gentle instead of spazzin’ around beatin’ on townsponies?” She hesitated, and he realized his error. “AND because trompin’ on a lady pegasus’s wings is like to blowin’ her into next week with kinky fuckyness?” “Eee!” squealed Hisanna, and thrashed her wings violently, and then stretched them out again, hyperventilating. “All right, all right,” grumbled Big Macintosh. “With that last part, now I believe ya. I ain’t wearin’ them shoe things. However, I reckon I kin pop some of your corks, ma’am. And then, Ah will ride ya off into the sunset, which is gonna be much nicer, trust me on that one. Here Ah come. I will step on your wings.” “ALL of me!” squealed Hisanna, shuddering. Big Macintosh pouted. “Some of you. And it’s against my better judgement, but ya convinced me. Hold still.” He stepped forward, and she began to pant and shiver, and with a deliberate motion and careful shifting of weight, Big Macintosh stood upon the shank of her pristine white pegasus wing. Hisanna screamed, and began to thrash. Hastily, Big Macintosh stepped on the other wing, but then jumped back in haste, for her forehooves kicked madly up at him and connected solidly with his massive chest. “OOF!” He stood well back, and she wept and begged him, “Again!” “Eeenope!” “Use the shoes, you have to use the shoes, it’s the only way!” “Nope twice! Dang it, ma’am, you’re worse’n Fillydelphia, an’ I am outta here!” “NO!” she shrieked. “I love you, I’ll kill you, no! Don’t leave, you have to finish this! You can’t stop now!” Big Macintosh set his jaw. “Not helping. Right now, Ah want to stick my dick in you about as much as I wanna stick it in a wild griffin’s beak. Ah am a gentlepony, ma’am, and I’m gonna give you jes’ one more chance. What do I have to do ta fuck you without you flailin’ and beating the daylights outta me?” He hesitated. “My, uh, a pony I used to know, he always liked nippin’ mare tail to quiet ‘em down. Not the tail, o’ course, I mean bitin’ their bum. Am I missin’ something, maybe that would do you good? You ain’t quiet and that’s a natural born fact.” Hisanna shuddered, gritted her teeth, spoke in a voice that was only slightly quavering… “Step on more of me. And I’ll relax. Not just wings. And please, the shoes?” Big Macintosh glared at them. Then he glared at the drain in the middle of the white tiled floor. “Not th’ shoes. Ah will do m’ best. Hold fuckin’ still.” This time, as he stepped forward, she didn’t kick up at him. She held still, and shuddered horribly as Big Macintosh walked with little mincing steps right up onto her body, and as one hoof crushed her wing against the tiles and his hind hooves sunk into her inner thigh and left hock, and his right forehoof hovered in the air looking for a place to come down, Hisanna made a weak agonised keening noise, her neck stretched out against the tiles, and gazed up at him in desperate longing. …and struggled to place her neck under his descending hoof. “Aw, fuck you, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh despairingly. He’d managed a sort of limp dangle-dick, but felt it shrinking up and trying to hide inside his sheath rather than be too near his pegasus doormat. He shook his head, lowered his hoof gently, and then a quarter of his weight was on her neck and her eyes rolled back in her head… “Rrrrkkkkckkkkk! kkckk!” wasn’t the most sensual cry he’d ever heard, but it was what Hisanna had to offer. He could hear her pussy winking, clenching on itself, smell the mare-ooze that came faster and faster. She hadn’t lied to him. He felt her body shudder in orgasm beneath him. It seemed incredible that she could survive his full weight… but really, if he’d been laying on top of her it would do her no harm. The only difference was a pretty big difference: no sane pony wanted to be walked on with another pony’s hard hooves. Big Macintosh blinked. Oh, yeah: Rarity, of course. Her spa treatments sometimes included Vera walking on her back, carefully balancing, with socks on her little hooves. But Rarity would never expect a hulking farm pony to tromp cruelly all over h… no, maybe she would, all he could really say was she’d never asked him to do it. And he’d never seen her sporting injuries to suggest it. No, there was that one time she’d been protecting Derpy and got herself good and trampled by panicking townsponies! And she’d been real proud of herself, but all the same she hadn’t asked for that. And Rarity’s terrifying inner sanctum, now fallen into disuse, had never contained a tiled floor or a drain. He realized he’d been shifting his weight to balance. Hastily, he withdrew his forehoof from Hisanna’s neck, and then prodded her head with the same hoof to see if she reacted. It proved unnecessary: the white pegasus drew deep shuddering breaths, her eyes rolled back in her head, cute little pony tongue hanging out, but while he’d been thinking of Rarity she’d been sinking into a sort of erotic trance. There wasn’t a trace of resistance left, and she was as limp as a puddle of applesauce. Big Macintosh frowned, worriedly. While balancing atop his would-be lover, he adjusted his stance, trying not to apply too much pressure in any one place but assuming she would require more thorough attention. He frowned worse, as he struggled to reposition one hoof after another. How was he supposed to do this without tearing her poor hide, why couldn’t he have got himself a hooficure? It could’ve been worse, he could’ve had a sharp fashionable edge put on his hooves, and then she’d be in real trouble. But he flinched at every chip and rough edge on his mighty hooves, as he saw the bulky keratin sink into her unresisting flesh. He frowned worst of all at the nasty spiky shoes that lay, ignored, on the tiles. He set his jaw and, scowling, tried to knead his hapless pegasus mare into something that would satisfy her crazy desires. Damned if he would make her bleed, or break her bones, or anything nasty like that. Nope! He just plain would not. If he moved carefully enough, he thought he’d most likely be able to avoid it. It reminded him, suddenly, of treading on grapes like they did in the Sisterhood Social. Except he wasn’t about to jump up and down and trot up a storm! And to hell with the drain, and for that matter to hell with this crazy pegasus: she’d just have to deal with something more like a spa massage, and like it. She’d been shuddering continuously under his hooves, barely making a sound, and it seemed to be subsiding. She felt softer. Big Macintosh looked down. “Aw, for…” Very carefully, he stepped clear. Hisanna had passed out, her expression an odd blend of ecstacy and agony. She’d barely made a sound… and most of her body was covered in obvious, livid bruises. Some were sharply delineated, and others were broad areas of ruddy blunt trauma like the Fillydelphian ponies got from floggers. He had not broken her skin once, nor had he heard a single bone snap, but for all that he was a heavy, heavy pony, and he’d given her everything she wanted after all. Big Macintosh stared for a minute as her battered chest rose and fell, and then he turned and walked quietly out of the room. He stepped through her living room, through the detritus of her shabby and ill-kept life, to the front door, and he seized the handle in his teeth and yanked it, opening the door and looking up. “Thought so,” he said to the team of three Kirin he saw waiting outside. One bit his lip, anxiously. “We saw she had found a stranger horse. Are you all right?” “Yer askin’ ME?” retorted Big Macintosh. “Yes,” said the Kirin. “Yes, I am.” “Ah’m jes’ dandy. What th’ pony hell, gentlemen? Just, what th’ pony hell is all this?” said Big Macintosh. He found he was heaving deep, panicky breaths, was beginning to shout. “Ah thought you was s’posed to be NICE and what the HELL is this?” “Check on her,” ordered the leader Kirin, and the other two pushed past Big Macintosh to get to Hisanna. “She’s fine!” said Big Macintosh. “Mostly! In fact she don’t want to be healed! Did you know that?” “Yes,” said the Kirin. Behind Big Macintosh, one of the other Kirin called back, “Amazing! She is appeased, from only contusions! She might have days, a week of peace!” “Really?” said the leader Kirin. “Get him out of here!” said the third Kirin. “We will comfort her. He needs to be out of town right away!” “She TOLE me to do that! An’ worse!” protested Big Macintosh. The third Kirin fixed him with a stern look. “We know. Now, do you want to stay here and do this over and over when she demands more, until your mind is distorted by what she demands of you, and in the end be hunted by the Kirin when you lose all sense of normal pony decency?” Big Macintosh boggled at him. “EENOPE!” The third Kirin bared his teeth, and Big Macintosh flinched. “Then go away, at once. There is comfort for this mare, for a time, but it is not for you to give.” Before Big Macintosh knew what was happening, he was being dragged away, by his ear, and the leader Kirin was muttering “S’rry! Scuse me! Th’s way!” They sat on a lovely, picturesque hill. Big Macintosh was shaking. The Kirin sat primly on its haunches, looking very sad. “Did Ah do wrong?” asked Big Macintosh. “That is a very hard question to answer,” said the Kirin. “That means yes,” said Big Macintosh. “On account of good is simple. You jes’ see it. So, now what?” The Kirin frowned. “No. It means it is a very hard question to answer.” “What are ya gonna do with her?” said Big Macintosh. “She don’t want to be healed. Are you gonna heal her? She needs to go around hurtin’ to stop her attackin’ other ponies.” “Is that what she told you?” said the Kirin. “What do you think she is doing now?” “You tell me, mister!” “Crying,” said the Kirin, solemnly. “Like the gentle pony she once was.” Big Macintosh’s expression crumbled. He hung his head. “Damn it. DAMN it.” He felt the Kirin’s nose nuzzle the side of his face, heard the whisper. “Please listen. That was your gift, but you cannot return. If we are lucky, you broke through…” “That is jes’ exactly what I was tryin’ not to do! Dammit…” “What?” Big Macintosh wiped his eyes with the back of a hoof, and then glared at the hoof. “She wanted me to wear them spiky boots! If I’d done that I dang well woulda broke through, she’d be in chunks by now.” “We keep taking those away from her,” said the Kirin. “She makes more, hides them.” “What kinda monster is she?” asked Big Macintosh, sniffling. “What th’ pony hell?” “You may not return to her pony hell,” ordered the Kirin. “We have removed three ponies already, when she became attached and fixated upon them. Maybe you will be the last. It’s possible you succeeded where others failed. We can but hope.” Big Macintosh just stared. “Ah would like for you to explain what the hay was goin’ on,” he said. “An’ I promise, I ain’t never goin’ back. I thought we were gonna fuck, not… whatever that was!” “You did not have intercourse?” asked the Kirin, quickly. “Aw hell no!” “It is well,” said the Kirin. “Our chances improve. Our elder, Daiyam, thinks part of what’s been trapping her in this was the sex. She would lure ponies into this behavior, and then have intercourse, and Daiyam thinks it was both distraction and reinforcement…” “If you ain’t punishin’ me, are you punishin’ her?” asked Big Macintosh. “It just ain’t right.” “How much did she tell you?” asked the Kirin. Big Macintosh blinked. “She’s a great warrior. An’ she gets so worked up she starts attackin’ ponies. Dang near bashed my head in, I believed what she said. She’s gotta be hurt to keep her in check, when she hurts she remembers other ponies kin be hurt, and she’s gentle. For a while.” The Kirin bowed his head, and a tear glinted in his eye. “That… was all bullshit, huh?” asked Big Macintosh. “Not exactly,” said the Kirin. “Did she really say that? She remembers other ponies can be hurt?” “It caught in her throat a lil’ bit,” said Big Macintosh. “But eyup, that she did say.” “It would. Let me tell you about Hisanna,” said the Kirin. Once upon a time, there was a little white pegasus mare. She was fleet of wing and swift of hoof, but she struggled to amount to much as a warrior, because she was a gentle thing and didn’t want to do harm. There were few monsters left to battle, and she wondered if her way of life was truly necessary. Still, she trained in the ways of pegasus combat, and rose to become a respected martial artist, peculiarly gifted as a teacher, for she could execute the fiercest attacks while holding back her blows and feinting only. The Kirin found this charming, but it didn’t sit well with other pegasi, who expected more ferocity from their kind. Most of all, it didn’t please her lover, a bold and strong sandy-colored pegasus stallion. He was a reckless and rarely-satisfied fellow, who would joke about having a foal with her, and that it would be the only warrior better than him: combining his killer instinct, with her speed and dexterity. It was only jokes, for they weren’t allowed to breed. In the absence of a family life, unable to keep up with his mate in martial arts sparring, this pegasus stallion took to roaming far and wide, trying to find monsters to slay. The two invented the Hammer and Anvil attack, where two pegasus warriors would combine their velocity magic into a destructive force that could slay any monster. Hisanna and Shinchu enjoyed celebrity beyond any pegasi in Neighpon. Through Hisanna’s gentleness, they were even able to teach their Hammer and Anvil attack to other pegasi, without killing them. And then, a day arrived that would live in tragedy. Shinchu flew into town in great excitement, declaring that he had found a mighty monster. He woke Hisanna from a nap, insisting that she help him fight it, crying out that it was urgent for her to take to the air right away. And where now is the monster? asked Hisanna. It is here, declared Shinchu, and then screams tore the air into bloody tatters. He had flown back home, allowing it to follow, thinking he and Hisanna would destroy it in front of everypony for their own glory, using their signature move. Instead, it rampaged into town and attacked a school while Shinchu tried to rouse Hisanna from sleep. Shinchu and Hisanna burst from their home, to see this carnage. Neither had ever seen a real, wild dragon before that day. Fierce Shinchu lost no time: even as the limbs of foals dripped from the monster’s huge mouth, he cried ‘Hammer and Anvil!’ and tore into their practiced and synchronized attack. In the blink of an eye, he tore around in a loop and converged on the beast’s head. Hisanna, who had never seen a monster before that second, flinched. The peaceful virtuoso of martial arts did half a loop, her form a shambles due to her shock and terror, and stalled out ten feet from the dragon’s head. From there, she saw that Shinchu had completed his loop… and come to rest, with no opposing burst of velocity magic, inside the dragon’s mouth. And her flinch took only a second, but a second was long enough for her to watch her lover crushed to death in the dragon’s terrible jaws. Hisanna went berserk. Ponies fled in all directions from the screaming, the whirling hornetlike madness, the confused roaring of a huge beast that did not understand why its body was being torn apart by the mauling attacks of a relatively tiny flying pony. They say that Hisanna took less than one minute to reduce the dragon to pieces the size of a house, or smaller. They say she collapsed, near death, still trying to tear the dragon apart. From the time that the great warrior Hisanna again awoke, she was hopelessly insane. She had lost no martial abilities, and indeed she claimed to be the mightiest pegasus warrior in all of Neighpon: but her behavior was erratic, she woke screaming with nightmares, she behaved aggressively to earth ponies and stampeded them with roughhousing… and, most worryingly of all, she did not remember Shinchu had ever existed. Big Macintosh stared helplessly at the Kirin. “So did Ah do wrong?” “That is a very hard question to answer,” repeated the Kirin. “You must now leave that story. It will continue, without you.” “But you said, maybe I broke though!” said Big Macintosh. “Do you mean, she might remember? On account of the wicked things I done?” The Kirin frowned. “Daiyam believes some part of her is trying to remember. He thinks she seeks to re-enact, upon her body, the doom that met Shinchu. So far, she has only perfected her grief and madness, and seduced several foolish ponies into taking part.” “What happened to them?” asked Big Macintosh. “We haven’t lost any of them to evil, yet,” said the Kirin, “but have had to move one to another town, and two farther still. We had to resettle them, because they had developed a desire to trample and harm other pegasi. The memory of ponies can be long, and some remember the dark times when pegasi were just another sort of monster to them. In that sense, what you did is something we’ve spent centuries teaching earth ponies not to do. In that sense, you did do wrong…” The second Kirin came walking out of the darkness, weeping. “What happened with her?” said the leader Kirin. “She remembers everything,” said the second Kirin. “Come and help her grieve.” The leader turned to Big Macintosh. “Leave here. Now.” As the dawn came up, Big Macintosh was still pulling the cart along pristine, manicured Neighpon roads, the town miles behind him. He walked slowly, exhaustedly, trying to avoid bumps because Vinyl and Octavia were still asleep in the cart. “Hina wouldn’ta said I done wrong,” he muttered, and kept moving.
Shelter“Sooooo…” said Vinyl Scratch, “what do you want to see at the next gig?” Octavia frowned. “What do you mean by that, Vinyl Scratch?” “Whoa, hey, don’t get snippy, I was just making conversation!” “Snippy? I, snippy? Certainly not,” said Octavia. “Forgive me, it just seemed that you were being… suggestive.” Scratch lowered her shades, and gave Octavia a look. “Yeah, far be it from me to be suggestive when traveling around with a pony who plays ten thousand concertos all about her boyfriend’s dick. I’m totes the problem there.” Octavia pouted. “Do not.” “Sorry. Not quite ten thousand yet?” “Some of them are cantatas. If you can’t tell the difference between a concerto and a cantata…” “Ma’am?” said Big Macintosh, steadily pulling the cart full of musicians and gear to the next gig, “Which?” snapped Vinyl Scratch. “Both,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah’ve worked for mares all my life, y’know.” “So?” “Y’all both kinda snippy,” said Big Macintosh. “No offense. Jes’… in a spirit of fairness. Am Ah pullin’ the cart too rough or somethin’?” Vinyl gave him a stricken look. “Aw! Of course not, Big Macintosh. You’re fine. Really? Are we snippy?” “I’m not,” sniffed Octavia. Upon receipt of an exasperated look from her lifelong friend and DJ, she pouted more. “I’m sorry, Scratchie. I promise it won’t harm my performances, rather the reverse. Please don’t mind me. Shall I sit farther away in the cart?” Vinyl gasped. “Nuh-uh! I thought something was bothering you. Tell Scratchie! Was it the wrong note two gigs ago?” Octavia’s ears laid back, hard. “There WAS no WRONG NOTE,” she declared, flatly. “Aw! I was only thinking of the one near the end of the finale, where you hang on it, and it went all sharp and stuff.” Octavia screwed her eyes shut in frustration. “Shouldn’t you be sticking to things that go thud? Who taught you about sharp and flat all of a sudden?” “Not fair, Tavi! I know about that stuff, I can’t have stuff in different keys, it’d clash.” “Well, DJ Pon-3, the note you’re thinking of is what we’d call somewhat microtonal. That means I get to lean on it, make it go more sharp for effect, and THAT means it’s on purpose. And next time, you can listen with your heart instead of your buttocks, and then maybe you’ll relate to the song of longing and frustration within the pre-penetration sonata that… WHAT, Big Macintosh?” “This is you ladies not bein’ snippy? Ain’t sure you even need me right now. That cart’s liable to roll up th’ hills by itself, powered by sheer sass.” Vinyl buried her head in her hooves for a moment. “Okay. Okay. We’re ALL snippy.” “I’m…” began Octavia stubbornly. “No, hear me out! I should have warned you,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Have either of you been on an extended tour before? I thought not. Listen, it’s okay, this happens. Road fatigue.” “Ain’t tired,” said Big Macintosh. “I’ll pull this cart all day long.” “As we learned!” accused Octavia. “No, take it easy Tavi,” urged Vinyl, “he explained that. We woke up on the road because he had some trouble with a mare and had to beat hooves out of town. A Kirin said so, and we don’t argue with Kirin. If they wanted us to move on, that’s what we do, no arguments.” Octavia glowered. “WE did nothing wrong.” “Ah din’t do WRONG!” protested Big Macintosh. “Ah screwed a pegasus lady, kinda! It… it din’t go well, if I’m honest.” Vinyl looked at him, quizzically. “You pretty much are honest, Big Macintosh. You didn’t talk about it. Are you in trouble?” “Naw! …it’s complicated.” “Let me guess. Neighponnese warrior pegasus, batshit crazy, really weird needs?” Big Macintosh nodded gratefully. “Eyup!” “Then let’s keep going, ‘cos that’s what the Kirin wanted you to do,” said Vinyl. “Better luck next time.” “I’mma go back to practicin’ on unicorns next time!” snorted Big Macintosh. “You do that. And Octavia, take it from me, when the road fatigue gets to you, just let off some steam however you can, okay? Drag off some nice earth pony or something, after the gig. I know you and Stout Heart are flexible that way, and it’ll make you feel better.” Octavia stared off into space. “I’m fine, Scratchie.” “I don’t think I’ve seen you do it, and I had fun a couple times and Big Macintosh is leaving a trail of mares behind him…” “I’m fine,” repeated Octavia. “Anyway, I had to comfort you after one of those times. Let’s focus on the music, dear heart.” Scratch looked stricken. “Comes from mixing business with pleasure. And it was for both of us, everything’s riding on this tour…” Octavia gave her a stern look. “Vinyl! Firstly, I did not ask you to practice blandishments upon anypony, on my behalf. And secondly, did you not listen? Let’s focus on the music. I have every faith in you, Scratchie. You’re beautiful, and gifted. Focus on the music and we’ll get through this tour gloriously. You mind your music and I’ll mind mine, and Big Macintosh will pull us from town to town, and then we’ll go home covered in laurels.” Vinyl gulped. “Oh, Tavi, I hope so…” “I know so, dear Scratchie.” “Though ya know after the big post-final-gig party I usually go home covered in something else…” “Of course you do, Scratchie,” soothed Octavia. “Now, let me tend to my inspiration and you’ll tend to yours, and everything will be fine.” “I totally can hook you up with some inspiration…” “NO, Vinyl Scratch,” said Octavia, and the discussion was over. The road was indeed becoming fatiguing, thought Big Macintosh. It didn’t seem like that big a deal, until you saw a new town of eager strange faces for the eleventh day in a row. He reminded himself once again that his journey had a purpose: he was going to be reunited with Hina, who doubtless was pining for him, wasting away. Big Macintosh chided himself for fooling around with pegasi: even back in Ponyville, pegasi had been awkward, and here in Neighpon it seemed they were just about impossible. Clearly the only sensible thing was to practice on the unicorns, if he could find sensible ones that wouldn’t get him in trouble. Big Macintosh frowned. It seemed he’d barely gotten away with his latest escapade, with the crazy pegasus mare. That had been frightening. Those Kirin had been the farthest cry imaginable from his sweet, vulnerable Hina, he thought. It seemed like he’d been inches away from some terrible punishment. And who could blame them? Big Macintosh vowed to himself that he would never do harm to Neighponnese mares again, no matter how crazy they were or how much they begged him to do it. The idea of marauding Kirin, lurking outside every door and ready to exact dreadful punishment upon him… it was hard to shake. There was a flicker of movement up ahead, an odd phantasm of pink that seemed almost familiar. Big Macintosh reared, snorting, in startlement… but it was already gone. “What happened?” called Vinyl Scratch “Nothin’,” replied Big Macintosh, and continued on his way, thinking. How did the Kirin thing even work? He pondered this, frowning. They were all over the place, unless of course they were stalking him and his friends. They sure came to the rescue in a big hurry when he’d screwed a Neighponnese pony too much… but then, it wasn’t as simple as that, was it? Seemed like they also did the same thing, to power up. What did they need with all that power? If it was just about the power, why did they care about the pegasus ponies? What was up with the Neighponnese earth ponies? They were cute and all, seemed happy and nice, but was it just their way of doing whatever the Kirin told ‘em to? Big Macintosh frowned again. He wouldn’t be able to ask Vinyl Scratch. She got upset when he acted like the Kirin were there to boss the lesser ponies around. But then, she’d got upset when she couldn’t squirt magic for the Kirin that screwed her, and what was the deal with that? Couldn’t she just enjoy it? But no, she’d been terribly guilty, even run away from Neighpon to get away from her shame. Was he supposed to be that ashamed if he couldn’t get unicorns to squirt for Hina? Big Macintosh snorted, again. It’d be a cold day in Tartarus if he couldn’t get unicorns to squirt for Hina. But was there supposed to be an extra level to it, was he supposed to devote himself to his Kirin? And of course he would, thought Big Macintosh! He was bringin’ all kinds of farm horse devotion to her what captured his natural born earth pony heart! But, all the same, he felt that his lumbering thoughts weren’t really keeping up with things. The Kirin, for instance. It did seem strange that his Kirin was a charming, innocent little darling who couldn’t sleep for how much she missed him and longed to see him again, yet all them other Kirin ran around being very bossy and punishing ponies. Seemed almost like the Kirin he loved was a whole other breed, and the ones they kept meeting in the small Neighpon towns were much more petty and judging. But that was what they were for, to hear folks tell it: they passed judgement, and then they killed your pony ass if you were bad. Big Macintosh frowned for pret-near the fifth time, or the ninth, or the eleventh. It seemed like a dangerous, lonely journey through all the frightening Kirin just to get to his true love. He trotted on, pulling the cart. He was nothing if not determined. In the cart, Vinyl Scratch stared out at the passing foliage as the cart bumped along. Road fatigue was a bitch, she thought. Ponies went kind of wacky under the strain. She sighed. She wasn’t really worried: there was something soothing about being back in Neighpon, cared for by Kirin. You could get pretty wacky in safety when you lived in Neighpon, she knew. The Kirin kept an eye on you, with their superior wisdom, and acted as sort of a referee for your wackiness: they’d urge you to the path of good, and see to it that you weren’t hurting anypony, to the best of their ability. You bore some responsibility for continuing to mean well, but the Kirin were endlessly patient so long as there was a chance of a harmonious outcome. On the other side of the cart, Octavia wriggled upon her seat and gritted her teeth. She was humming to herself. Music being her outlet, she allowed it to fountain forth, and her weary brain catalogued the ideas as they came. The day rumbled past on wooden wheels as they made their way to their next stop, and their next concert. It hadn’t affected Octavia’s performance, at any rate. Shreds of broken ponyhair frayed off her bow as she held it aloft, her climactic final notes still hanging in the air, the audience cheering madly. Vinyl Scratch slipped behind her decks, a glint in her eye, the background hiss of live decks mingling with the cheering of the crowd. Big Macintosh watched his musician friends ply their craft, but then he gave a whinny and lifted a hind leg, for something had touched him in a rather sensitive place. He glanced back, to see a Neighpon-dainty unicorn behind him. Most of her, anyhow. She was a pretty pearl-gray color, with a lighter gray mane and tail that had darker gray highlights to form a sort of outline, and he couldn’t see her eyes, because she was nuzzling his testicles. Just the tip of her horn showed over his massive red rump. Here we go again, thought Big Macintosh. His brow scrunched up as he watched the tip of that horn make thoughtful, meditative little arcs behind his hindquarters. He lifted his leg higher, feeling her muzzle tenderly prod his balls. He cleared his throat. “Uh… ma’am?” She peeked from behind him as if they were both privy to a wonderful surprise, and her clear blue eyes crinkled up at the edges with good nature and more than a bit of mischief. “Hi!” she said, and the bass dropped. As the crowd lifted with a shout and began to dance, Big Macintosh cringed at the aural assault. DJ Pon-3 was in the house, and she apparently meant to level it and prance on the rubble. He backed up, ear-flattened, even as the ponies around him pressed forward. “Not your jam, huh?” said the little unicorn wryly. Big Macintosh looked again. She wasn’t that little, she’d been crouching down to nuzzle him better. Kind of leggy. Seemed normal enough: smaller than most Ponyville mares, cute little horn, slim and well groomed. She looked back at him, and he didn’t see much in the way of creepy madness in her eyes. “Depends how y’mean,” said Big Macintosh. “Happens I ain’t missed a show yet.” She gave him a wicked little grin. “I hope not. I think these musical ponies would be sad if you did. I saw you pulling their cart into town.” Big Macintosh took a moment to scan the crowd. Before his eyes had got halfway, they were interrupted: she’d scooted in front of him with a lithe wriggle, and reared slightly, to smile into his face with her hooves gently on his shoulders. “They should thank you, a big strong horse like you. Do they thank you?” “Uh, uh, sometimes?” stammered Big Macintosh. “HOW do they thank you?” pressed the mare, tilting her head coyly. She really was cute, with her blunt little horn: kind of like Lyra back home, but less green. “Uh, they let me have first pick of th’ best grass to graze on, an’ Miss Octavia rubbed my back once when I’d been pullin’ up hills a lot and Ah got sore.” “Just that?” said the mare. “Oh, and where are my manners? I’m Suru. And you are?” “Big Macintosh, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, and waited for it. Sometimes when they heard his name, the creepy madness flared up in their eyes. The tiny one he’d laid by the beach… no, she hadn’t even asked his name. Maybe as he got nearer the capital of Neighpon, the ponies got more civilized? “I’m pleased to meet you,” said Suru. “Can I get you a drink of water?” Apparently they did. Big Macintosh studied the friendly, solicitous unicorn. “That ain’t a bad idea, ma’am, thankee. Been workin’ to set this place up, and a drink of water does sound nice.” “The musician ponies don’t give you water?” inquired Suru. “Be fair, they were busy!” protested Big Macintosh. “They’re workin’ now, it’s their turn!” She lifted an eyebrow elegantly. “Do they… play?” “Am Ah readin’ too much into that, ma’am?” “Oh, no no,” said Suru. “Don’t mind me. I’m just nosy.” “As Ah learned!” snorted Big Macintosh. She giggled, an adorably wicked look on her face. “You noticed? I can do more. Unless the lovely musicians have played you as well as they play their instruments, and drained you. So tragic. Poor thing. It didn’t look as though they had, though it’s not my business.” That seemed relatively normal for a lecherous but sane pony untroubled by creepy madness. Big Macintosh sighed. “Naw. Funny you should ask, ma’am. Ah play with ponies my own self, but we don’t do none of that between musicians an’ road crew. That’s me, I’m road crew.” “But you get to play with ponies once your work is done?” pressed the pretty unicorn mare. “Except last night it went all wrong and Ah din’t get off or nothin’. So if I was more blue-balled, ma’am, that would be why.” Ah, THERE it was. Big Macintosh wearily saw Suru’s eyes dilate and widen. Creepy madness, acquired. At least she seemed pretty and not too small for him, and she had behaved sort of normal… at least, so far. She gave a little laugh, tensely. “Poor thing! Does that usually happen?” This time, it was she who scanned the crowd, her ears back in anxiety. “Ma’am? Uh, Suru?” “Yes?” she said, eyes locked to his, lips parted expectantly. “Do you want to go off an’ have a lil’ fun? But we gotta talk first.” “I would be delighted,” said Suru, her eyes shining. “Can I get you that drink of water? Plenty of water, for you.” “Sure,” said Big Macintosh, “jes’ as long as you talk.” “Just talk?” “FIRST talk.” Behind DJ Pon-3’s shades, Vinyl Scratch watched Big Macintosh leave early with the pearl-gray unicorn. “What Ah’m askin’, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh, “is whether you got some creepy kink goin’ on where you want me to hurt you. Cos’ you’d be surprised how often that’s been happening with a big Ponyville fella like me, comin’ to town.” “Oh!” blinked Suru. “Does that mean you’re distressed, because you’re not really hung on an epic scale as your size would suggest, and your feelings are hurt? I promise, that wouldn’t worry me.” “Naw,” admitted Big Macintosh, “Ah kind of am.” He watched her warily, expecting at least a ‘yay!’ She cocked her head. “Well, I’d like to try the challenge, if it’s not unwise. It can hardly be that dangerous unless you’re rough, and that’s not what I’m about. You being rough, I mean. It sounds like you don’t want to be? That’s good, the Kirin would like you.” “Sometimes they do,” said Big Macintosh. Her eyes narrowed. “Sometimes they do not?” “Din’t say that,” protested Big Macintosh. “But that’s what Ah mean. Ma’am, I got to be careful cos’ I’ve had some pretty wild mares in Neighpon and it ain’t always nice, how they want it. Especially this one unicorn.” Suru’s eyes widened. “What did she do?” “Went off like a firework display an’ hurt herself,” said Big Macintosh. “Er… kinda. I shoulda known better, honest. She was real little, an’ they’d done something to her so’s she could enjoy fuckin’…” Suru’s eyes roamed over his body. “Oh, my. I’ve heard of her, yes. She is all right?” “Whole team of Kirin around her,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah reckon she’s fine by now. Gonna take a while for that horn to grow back.” “I have plenty left!” protested Suru. “You can’t fault me for that, I am responsible, I understand my limits!” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Ah mean hers, ma’am. Somethin’ you need to tell me?” Suru’s gaze dropped. She was blushing. She muttered, “You’ve caught me out…” She gasped. This time, the nuzzle was returned… but Big Macintosh was nuzzling the top of her head, her ears, that cute little blunted horn: that being all he could reach of her, while she looked down. Her head came up quick, so quick he had to dodge the swinging hornlet, her eyes wide as they stared at him. “Oh my goodness…” “You got to tell me, though,” he said. “Ain’t fair to me, otherwise.” Suru pouted. “Oh, all right. I like orgasming.” “Most ponies do,” suggested Big Macintosh. “I like orgasming a LOT. Don’t you see how I’ve decorated my bedroom?” Big Macintosh looked around. It did seem rather… padded. He lifted an eyebrow. “Bouncin’ off the walls, much?” “Flameproof,” said Suru. He boggled. “You set FIRE to your lil’ house? That’s your fetish? You’re a pyro-pony? Ma’am, I…” “No, no!” she protested. “Not that way! Oh, how am I ever going to explain this to a foreign earth pony who’s never seen a…” She trailed off, looking at his wicked smile. “Gotcha,” said Big Macintosh. “You ain’t so clever as all that, ya silly pony. I know all about unicorns, an’ more. I knew what that stuff was soon as I looked at it.” “Oh…” He nodded. “Ah’ve seen things you wouldn’t believe, Miss Suru. I’ve seen that stuff blasted away faster than you could blink. In fact, happens I was responsible for it.” Suru’s eyes kept getting wider and wider. “Oh?” “Yeah,” said Big Macintosh. “I made love nice and gentle to Princess Luna, but what she done with her horn, well, that weren’t gentle at all.” He winced. “Also, I made another fine lady set fire to her lacy curtains, an awful long time ago. An’ was she ever mad! She didn’t think she had any squirt in her, but I fixed that.” Big Macintosh brooded for a moment. “Dang, that was a long time ago. Still, she’s well fixed now. Guess it all worked out.” Suru looked about ready to faint, regarding him with awed terror and fascination. “Oooooh!” “So don’t you fret, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh. “I know there ain’t no fetish. Jes’ how you unicorns do.” At that, she blushed hard again. “No, there is.” “Ulp!” “It’s okay!” protested Suru. “It will be okay, don’t worry. I think you can do it, and there’s nothing to worry about.” “Ma’am, if you knew what I been through in this crazy country,” rumbled Big Macintosh, “you wouldn’t say that so easy! All right then. Let me make some wild-ass guesses. You got a ball fetish. You fixin’ to kick me in them?” “No, no!” “You want me to drink a lotta water. You fixin’ to have me pee on you?” “Ew! No!” Big Macintosh relented. He’d been expecting something just as outlandish or worse. “Okay. Okay. What’s your pleasure, then?” She was blushing a flaming red, and pouted, sticking out her lower lip. She looked up at him, sulky. “I want you to come in me. A lot. I would never kick you there, what a horrible idea! And pee, ew, that’s not how my fantasy works!” “It ain’t?” “It most certainly ‘aint’,” sniffed Suru. “I think I’ve heard that idiom, it’s a barbarian pony thing.” She fixed him with a sultry gaze from under half-lidded eyes, and her knees were trembling. “I want you to blow me up like a balloon. With come.” It was Big Macintosh’s turn to pout. He was gazing off into space, a sour expression on his lips, thinking hard. “Y’all forgive me for bein’ cautious about them self-destructive ways of Neighponnese mares…” “To a point, I mean!” squeaked Suru. “Oh my goodness. You… Mister Macintosh, you really think you’re so pent up that you could do me injury? From… from coming TOO much in me?” “Let’s jes’ say I ain’t messin’ around, ma’am,” replied Big Macintosh. “And it ain’t just emptyin’ my nuts, either. Any zebra could outdo me there…” “What are those?” she asked quickly. Big Macintosh stared at her. “I cain’t be responsible for tellin’ you,” he said, “I din’t say nothin’, ain’t no such thing as a Z-word. Never you mind. I mean, I’m a big fella. I reckon with a normal stallion from these parts, it’s gonna squirt out, you know? Ah’m bigger, take up more room. It’s liable to git all corked up an’ under pressure an’… aw horseapples.” She couldn’t even speak, for hyperventilating. “Ah done fucked up, din’t I?” sighed Big Macintosh. Suru sidled forward. Her every step suggested a quivery explosiveness, like her pelvis had melted down into a puddle of willing-mare the instant she’d understood what he said. She kissed him on the nose, and spoke intensely. “I swear I am not irresponsible,” she said. “We must do this, I can’t bear it if we don’t, but we must do it responsibly. I think if I position myself well, I can avoid danger. You are not some pony-shaped Weird Monster out of legend? You are not so swollen and huge that mere penetration would burst me asunder?” “Naw,” said Big Macintosh. “I’m still a pony. Honest.” She bit her lip, anxiously. “You’re very masculine. Can you bear the shame of lying back and allowing me to position myself? That would be wisest. I realize some barbarian ponies, even some Neighponnese, they must be on top as the dominant stallion…” Big Macintosh laughed. “Are ya kidding? Ma’am, I done it every which way you kin imagine. I was about to suggest that.” Her smile appeared, and it was lovely. It grew. “It doesn’t bother you? I’m sure I’ll be all right if you can do that. I think it can still be rewarding. For you, I mean.” “An’ for you?” inquired Big Macintosh, settling back onto her bed. Her legs were shaking worse and worse, and the scent of her mad winking filled the air. She bit her lip again, couldn’t stop smiling. “I’m not sure the word ‘rewarding’ will be enough…” “C’mere,” rumbled Big Macintosh, and eagerly, wobblingly, Suru came. To a point, anyhow: Mac rolled his eyes, thinking he should have seen it coming. He’d settled back onto his back, legs spread, expecting to be mounted by a sex-crazed mare. But he’d forgotten the essential point: she was a testicle-crazed mare, and even as his cock thrust forth and hardened before her, Suru had eyes only for his balls, and ecstatically nuzzled their turgid massiveness, pressing her face against them with croons of delight. “Ah’m up here,” suggested Big Macintosh. “You’re even better down here,” purred Suru, her stubby blunt horn making cozy little arcs in the air as she made love to his balls, licking them and prodding them lovingly with her muzzle. “Heh. You ain’t bad down there yourself,” said Big Macintosh, stiffening further with every lick and caress. “Mmmm…” “But you might wanna be up here before you git too frisky down there,” suggested Big Macintosh. She looked up. Her eyes widened, as she saw what she’d wrought. “Um. Why is that?” “Well, ma’am, Ah am mighty pent up an’ frustrated, and if you get me off from jes’ that there…” Suru squealed in alarm and pulled back, frantic. “Noooo! What must I do, you mustn’t, I have to…” “Shhh,” soothed Big Macintosh, reaching for her. “Ah tole you already, you wouldn’t listen. Come here. I know how this goes.” He made a face. “Y’all made it worse for yourself, though. Ah’m flared up perty good. We kin probably do it anyhoof, specially if you’re brave.” Suru scrambled up to mount him, biting her lip in chagrin. “I’m so foolish… oh, my! Yes you are. Please, if you can at all, please please try to re…” “Way ahead of ya,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah am tryin’ to relax for all I’m worth.” “Fuck,” said Suru, wide-eyed. “What does it look like when you tense? No, wait! Don’t, or I’ll never get on. Fuck. This is intimidating, very intimidating.” “I swear I’ll be gentle with you,” said Big Macintosh. “Ah learned it from… from somepony that I used to know, is who. Don’t wanna talk about it. You just settle back, ma’am, and we can start.” She’d already started: it was a wonder she hadn’t dehydrated completely, for her extreme arousal at nuzzling his balls had left a puddle of mare-juice beneath her. It dripped down the inside of her legs, and when his cock-head touched her vulva, she shuddered and began to pant again… but thankfully, Suru was far too horny to tense up. This posed its own challenges. The wave of desire that rocked her was triggering a reaction too primitive for her stallion-topping position: she painted his flare with lube, but tended to freeze, straddling him expectantly, her body expecting a stallionish thrust and bracing itself stable and motionless as she panted. Big Macintosh, ears perked, began to consider his options for thrusting up into her and solving the problem that way, when… “Gheeeh! hh!” With a filthy squelch, Suru heaved herself back onto him and pushed his hardening flare into herself. “OH! my! love!” she wailed, bearing down and pinching at him. “Are you okay?” pressed Big Macintosh, fighting not to tense or swell himself. She was damned pinchy, and he knew to be careful, knew he should ask. She’d been wet and slippery as anything, but that iron grip she had suggested he’d made a mistake. “Givemeamoment!” she gasped. She bared her teeth, but her mouth didn’t curl down in anguish. There were tears in her eyes, but her face bore a rather frightening grin, showing a different flavor of anguish. He’d seen Rarity do that time after time, and there was no mistaking the shameless wallowing in too-sharp pleasure-pain. There was still the issue of her tension, though. “Yes, ma’am. I got to say, though, judgin’ by your snappin’ pussy, I best stay there. Is that okay? Ah’ll hurt you, ma’am, and that’s a fact. You ain’t big enough for me.” “No, I… hh… nnnghh…” “No?” asked Big Macintosh. “I said, give me a moment,” managed Suru. “There’s something you don’t know about me.” “Whut’s that?” She grinned down at him. “I do exercises. Let me focus. I’ll show you.” Big Macintosh watched, wide-eyed. Suru grimaced, arched her neck, wriggled slightly… and showed him, showed him until his eyes bugged out in shock. Inside her, the fierce tightness began to relax. She’d had it under control, mostly, and now she knit her brow, heaved deep breaths, and forced herself to loosen. With little wriggles of her hips, little jittery flicks of her tail, Suru softened up until the pressure around him was no more than general slippery snugness, the iron band of tension completely gone. He felt himself expand into the new softness, and saw her heart pounding in a vein in her neck: to her, this relaxing was a bold surrender to his potent occupancy of her body, and though she felt the strain of it, it did not dissuade her. That became even more obvious once she’d taken her moment. Once Suru had melted herself upon him, she swished her tail once, twice as she took a breath and let it out… and then, her eyes squeezed tight shut, the little unicorn mare slid back onto his throbbing erection seemingly without ever having to stop, and his bulk smoothly penetrated her. Big Macintosh’s eyes bugged out in shock not so much because of that alone… but because he felt her taut labia juicily slip over and cover his medial ring. Suru liked it incredibly deep. He nervously petted her mane. “Ya okay?” he asked, as his cock throbbed excitedly in its tender confines. Suru looked up at him, her mouth hanging open in awe, her eyes wide and adoring and not quite focussing on him. Big Macintosh booped her gently on the nose. “Is that a yes?” “Uhhh! Eeeh! Oooh! Mmmmh!” He grunted. Suru had come instantly just from his nose-boop, possibly because she was crammed full of Big Macintosh throbbing away, possibly because she’d never had anything like him. When she did, that snapping pussy went into action, and delivered punishingly sharp clenches to his cockbase behind the medial ring. His ears laid back, but he bore it uncomplainingly, thinking to himself that if she wanted to be come in, she’d have to take it down a notch. It felt like she was very capable of pinching him off so that even his mighty testicles couldn’t blast through. Big Macintosh stroked her mane while she came, his eyes roaming over the beauty of her shuddering, quivering form. She sure was a cutie, and seemed awful happy with him. His eyes strayed farther, to all the magic-proof padding surrounding them. He glanced at the floor. Even the carpet was made of the same material. There were cloven hoofprints on her carpet… several different sizes. Big Macintosh glanced back at Suru. Practice: it seemed like this was what she was for? Well then, he’d see if he could do the pretty unicorn even better than the two… no, three… however many Kirin came to ball her and get filled up with unicorn horn-come. Big Macintosh’s ears quirked. Seemed kinda funny to have all that protective stuff, if she was supposed to be squealing and having her horn sucked. Wouldn’t they be able to drink it all? The tiny unicorn could squirt buckets, gushers. Lyra back home was like that, too. Suru, heaving deep breaths, began to subside from her first orgasms, her pussy relaxing around him again. “Ooooh fuck!” “I din’t come yet,” said Big Macintosh. “Ya good?” Her body was sweating, beautifully, giving her a glisteny silvery look. It somehow smelled of her ecstacy, inflamed his desire: so clean and lusty and fresh. As she relaxed around him, the impression he got was of her power and strength, that she revelled in all of this and it fulfilled a need in her so deep that she could barely express it. The look in her eyes gave a mighty good hint of it, though. “No you didn’t,” she confirmed. “I’d know, believe me I’d know. Mmmmm! You look surprised. Does my body surprise you?” “A lil’!” Suru nuzzled his face lovingly. “Deep vestibule, small treasure-chest. I’m just built that way—Neighponnese find me, erm, roomy. I’ve never felt so full in my whole entire life. Are you good? Did I hurt you? I can try not to tense up. I’m very strong inside.” Big Macintosh quirked an ear. “Ah’m fine. I will say one thing, on account of you want me comin’ inside. When the time is right I reckon you best relax, or you’ll pinch me like a dang milkshake straw.” She blinked. “Won’t it still work? I mean, in general terms? I doubt I can pinch tight enough to keep the come out, nor would I wish to.” “No,” said Big Macintosh, “that’s true enough. It’ll git there. All’s I meant was, you might not want it squirtin’ and sprayin’ like it was pinched off.” She licked her lips, her eyelids flickering like a wild sequence of fantasies raced through her brain. “Why would I not want that? It’s everything I desire.” “Because if ya relax all the way,” said Big Macintosh, “Ah’m feeling like my nuts are fixin’ to throw it all at once. Got me a big thingy, an’ a big tube in there, an’ if you DID want to be pumped full of horsecome in one big fat splodge… heh! Heh, heh heh!” He had to laugh for joy, stroking her mane affectionately. Suru’s eyes had widened as she understood what he was suggesting, and by the time he’d reached the word splodge, she was coming with pretty squeals and fierce clenches, popping all her corks at his description alone. Granted, she felt really good on him and he reckoned he felt amazing in her, especially as he got more throbbing and erect, but it was a mighty funny thing that he’d given a mare a spectacular orgasm by saying ‘splodge’ to her. Cuddling her squeaking, spasming form to his chest, Big Macintosh wondered what it would be like randomly saying ‘Splodge!’ to mares on the street. Would any of them have orgasms? Probably not. It just made him feel luckier that he’d found this nice mare. He glanced at the cloven hoofprints on the carpet again. Them Kirin knew when they had a good thing goin’. She subsided again, looking adorably disheveled, her blunted horn glittering. “Oh my!” “Sounds good, huh?” Suru nodded delightedly. “Yes, yes, YES! I’ll do everything I can to help. Oh my! Let’s start, let’s start right away! Don’t let my horn point at you. I… um… hm.” “Somethin’ the matter?” asked Big Macintosh. “Perhaps,” said Suru, frowning a cute little frown and still looking like she’d just woke up from a whole night of happy debauchery. “I… Big Macintosh, how good are you at sensing things? I mean, inside?” “Go on…” She knit her brow. “I assumed I would do all the moving. Sort of ride you, milk you… and I can do that, I know I can, but I’m also sure I would tense up. And that is okay, too, but if you… splodge! hh! mmh! excuse me… If you… THAT, I would need to be so deeply relaxed that I wouldn’t be supporting my own weight.” “Got lots o’ support, darlin’,” rumbled Big Macintosh. “You go right ahead.” “But I mean, I was hoping to do some moving. Nothing so rough, but moving. And then afterwards I would need to scooch forward if you c—came too much in me…” “Easy there, ma’am!” laughed Big Macintosh. “Ah know about that. I kin tug out as needed if things get too pressured in there. Never you fear!” Suru regarded him with astonishment. “Fuck me, you do it that often that you’re USED to it? Seriously? You come so much that you learned THAT?” Big Macintosh blushed. “Aw. Yeah, but it ain’t me bein’ so clever. A very special pony I knew once. That’s who taught me. Ah owe him… a lot, really.” “Are you okay?” “Got somethin’ in m’ eye. Never you mind.” The next thing he knew, he was being kissed very sweetly on the muzzle by Suru, and her heart was in her luminous, loving eyes. “I trust you,” she said. “If you mean it, then I would be delighted to place myself in your care. Make love to me, and fill me with come. This may be the most beautiful moment in my life.” “Aw,” said Big Macintosh, “don’t git carried away. It’s jes’ me down here, is all.” “Shh,” said Suru. “Love me.” She lay her head against his chest, eyes blissfully closed, and flipped her tail a few times, wriggling, trying to relax. She arched her neck prettily, as if she was a cat looking for a nuzzle under the chin, and then Big Macintosh realized it was to point her horn at a nearby magic-resistant pad. He also realized that he’d gone a bit soft inside her, and wiped away a tear, and set his jaw. “For you,” he said, and he didn’t mean Hina. “An’ all I learned.” Tenderly, his hips began to nudge. Suru shivered and let out a breathy cry as the massive, warm presence inside her pussy began to shift. She clenched, then forced herself to relax, and just in time: with the slick magic of marehood around stallionhood sending immediate jolts of sensation into both ponies, Big Macintosh’s huge cock remembered what it was doing in a fearsome hurry. Suru gasped in thrilled shock as his cock swelled every bit as quick as she could relax, seeming to inflate inside her to half again its size until her ears laid back in delighted alarm. Big Macintosh caressed her mane, stroked her ears until they stopped being flattened against her head in fear. All the while, he kept up tender soft motions of his increasingly un-tender phallus, letting it nudge and slip gently inside her even as every contour and bulge became hard and unyielding. Suru’s ears gradually relaxed as Big Macintosh fondled them, until they stood up, quirked to the sides in an expression of awe and disbelief, but showing no strain. That was when Big Macintosh deepened his stroke. Suru licked her lips wildly, her eye twitching. Her horn fizzed and shimmered, a spark of magic springing off it with a dry pop. Hastily, she laid her head against Big Macintosh’s chest so her horn wouldn’t endanger him, and felt his mighty heart pounding much like hers. So controlled, so gentle, but such power! With a little cry, Suru began to orgasm again, fighting not to tense up. Big Macintosh’s stroking grew firmer, and he caressed and stroked her pony body as she lay quiveringly across him in orgasm. He could feel her efforts to not tighten, and his weighty caresses urged her to melt away in his embrace. “Ahh! Aaaahhh… aaaAAAaahhh…” wailed Suru, coming so hard she saw double, melting across the barrel of the mightiest horse she’d ever imagined, and feeling his huge throbbing horsecock thrust deep inside her again and again, never hurrying, never relenting, as he so powerfully caressed and stroked her shuddering body. Big Macintosh gritted his teeth, feeling it build, determined to get it just perfect. Suru vibrated, and for a startling moment saw triple. Her nostrils flared, she heaved deep breaths as her orgasms ramped up in a sudden frenzied escalation and she fought to not clamp down, fought to open herself completely to this wonderful huge horse, and… “ghEEEEh!” As her orgasms hit a new peak of ferocity, a spurt of glittering magic arced from her little hornlet, to splash thickly against the magic-resistant material. “Haaaaaahh!” Another spurt of magic came out of her horn. For a moment, the only sound was the faint crackle of magic dripping down the wall, and the steady taut slurping of Big Macintosh’s achingly hard cock gently penetrating to Suru’s deepest treasure, over and over and over. And then… “Hnnng!” She’d been exhaling. Her eyes flew wide, but she didn’t have breath to scream. Instead, she saw quadruple, quintuple, just a nonsense of meaningless shapes, as a tidal wave of semen gushed through the horsecock that transfixed her, catching her at a relaxed moment when she’d been most open and receptive, and the stallionhood shoved firmly up against her cervix, and hot spunk crammed in all at once to fill her palpably, more than she’d even imagined was possible. Suru’s horn seemed to explode with magic, blasting off the protective padding and ricocheting across other padding to fill the room with light. Big Macintosh, wild-eyed, watched the fireworks. There seemed to be enough room that it wasn’t hitting him or splashing over him. He held Suru close, though she seemed stunned into total limpness with only her horngasm showing her reaction. No, not quite: she’d managed to relax, but he could feel her body thundering away like a storm was inside. She didn’t struggle or cry out, but the orgasms churned her to a puddle and that horn was still going like it’d never stop. He gritted his teeth, and his balls convulsed and fired another thick, sticky load of horsecome into Suru. She writhed weakly, and her horngasm in turn thickened and grew brighter, impossibly brighter, accompanied by a burning smell. Big Macintosh decided he’d have to trust that her room could stand it, and that nothing too important was on fire. He quickly gauged the feelings of pressure against his throbbing cock, and pulled back half an inch until he felt less solidness against the front face of his flare. As he did, Suru’s brain returned from total and complete white-out. Between the time his second load pumped into her, and the time he’d pulled back, she had gone to heaven and hell at the same time, a shatteringly intense climax where she couldn’t even think. There was just the orgasm rampaging merrily through her body, and down in her vagina, the mighty throb of Big Macintosh’s huge erection and the huge pool of horsecome that literally stuffed her, filled her every crevice until she felt every nerve squealing at once, inflated her until the mass of semen felt like a solid object that made her womb some kind of casting, a statue… or, rather, her uterus and tubes and such all painted over such a statue, so tight and hard she couldn’t even breathe, could only come her tail off and gush magic from her horn. Relieved of that pressure, Suru heaved huge, frantic breaths. “Haaaaaaahhh! haaaaaahh!” “Y’ okay?” panted Big Macintosh. She gazed up at him, drenched in sweat, as if he’d become some monster or deity. She licked her lips, an ear twitching. Her lips kept curling up into dazed smiles, and going blank in awe again. Big Macintosh scritched her ear, and smiled. “Hey, Braeburn, Ah think she liked it…” Suru’s eyes were so wide. “Who?” she panted. “Never you mind. I honored that name. Again, you okay? Feelin’ happy?” “Oh, my!” managed Suru. “It… you… yes! So good, so good…” She felt charred, stunned, quivering in some utterly vulnerable state, and it felt better than anything ever had in her whole life. “Tired?” asked Big Macintosh playfully. “What?” panted Suru. He nudged with his hips, just a little. Suru’s eyes flew wide, and her horn erupted in light once more, blindingly. His careful little nudge had been transmitted through the sea of horsecome inside her, and everywhere she’d been inflated on a tide of warm spunk, not painfully but just to the point where her breath was taken away. It was like the blinding white universe of total orgasm that she’d been burning in while his second volley pumped her full, had receded when he’d withdrawn. And then, unexpectedly, with just a little nudge, Suru felt herself yanked up like some carnival ride and physically plunged into that world of blinding orgasm, and then back out to the real world and the blurry image of a titanic red stallion upon which she straddled. She gawked at him, uncomprehending. As she became able to focus, she saw how amused and pleased he was. His smile was like a colt on Hearth’s Warming Morning. It hadn’t hurt, not exactly hurt. Even her womb didn’t hurt. Now that she thought about it, now that the crushing intensity of sexual ultimate peak had receded again, she could feel herself, and in awe she felt the truth: she was utterly relaxed, being fondled openly by an amazingly sexy stallion, and his hard-on was persisting so well that it still walled up an ocean of spunk. And that ocean felt warm and cozy and glowing inside her womb’s every crevice, but all the same, it was an incredibly vulnerable feeling because he only had to nudge and she could feel she would just explode in orgasm, helpless to do anything else until the tender pressure relented. It was her deepest fetish, on a scale she’d not even imagined. “This is where you might do th’ thing,” suggested Big Macintosh, and his voice rumbled through her limp body and gave her another orgasm, and she tried to meet his eyes and talk coherently. “What thing?” she managed. “Y’know, what the DJ do. So they say. Ya showed me.” “Wuh?” sighed Suru, feeling like she was melting into sex candy. Big Macintosh scratched his head with a free hoof. “Ah kin keep doing that, real gentle-like, but Ah will flag. I jes’ thought since you got the snappin’ pussy and all, you can be your own cock ring an’ it will help me go longer. Or not if ya don’t want. You look happy.” Suru, dazed, looked up at him, feebly knitting her brow as she made sense of his words through the waves of inexorable pleasure that flooded her. “If… I tense… you can do it again?” she managed. She felt his erection, still remarkably vast, plunged deeply up her and resting quietly. “Ma’am, Ah’m honored.” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. With an adorable little scrunchy-face of effort, his little unicorn mare was bearing down harder and harder on him, and his cock stiffened inside her as she clamped around it in grim earnest. His jaw dropped, politely, as Suru made her intentions clear. “Dang,” he said. “That would be a yes. Poss’bly a please. All righty, ma’am, it’s my pleasure. How long would you like to ride into th’ sunset?” Suru gazed blearily up at him, face wreathed in quivery smiles. “Forever!” she sighed, and then she carefully nestled her head against his chest, so her horn pointed at the wall, and melted into his embrace… all of her, except where her pussy locked down behind his medial ring like it’d never let go. “That’s a long time, ma’am,” said Big Macintosh. “Until I release you,” she said, muffled against his chestfur. She pinched at him happily, to demonstrate what she meant. “Who knew there was a Wild West in Neighpon?” marvelled Big Macintosh. “Whut?” mumbled Suru, dazedly. “Never you mind,” he said. “Hold on. Here it comes.” He tenderly nudged into her again, and her mind exploded in pleasure as her horn erupted in horngasm, and there were no further questions to be had. Big Macintosh lay, blissed out, stroking the back of his quivering lover, his eyes contentedly closed. It was partly due to pleasure, and partly because Suru’s orgasms hurt his eyes after a while. It was awe-inspiring, really. She just wouldn’t let up. And since her natural gifts included a vagina with extraordinary gripping power, she was quite capable of trapping his cock and keeping it hard, so long as she didn’t relent. His only option was to tenderly make love to her until she was so exhausted that she had to let go. And this, Suru seemed determined not to do. His cock felt inflamed, real sensitive, but that was okay: no doubt so did she, and it helped him keep everything so very gentle and tender. They were both exhausted. It’d been… hours? A long time, an impossibly long time, but a time spent floating in sensual ecstacy. He’d fondle his unicorn lover. She’d quiver, maybe wriggle, she’d long since become unable to move a hoof but she still hung onto him determinedly, unwilling for the ecstacy to end. Sometimes she’d relax for a moment, and then wriggle and tense her pussy up once more. And on those lovely pony lips, on the cute little muzzle, he’d see her feebly mouthing the word, ‘again!’. And with the utmost tenderhearted caution, since at this point it jolted the both of them, Big Macintosh would nudge his hips forward, and cuddle his unicorn mare to him as she wordlessly gushed a blinding blast of horngasm at the wall. There must have been some object in the room that hadn’t survived their lovemaking, for he continued to smell burning but saw no fire. He’d asked if it was okay, checked with Suru, and she’d lifted her head with the last of her strength not reserved for cock-ring duties and told him everything was okay and never to stop, ever. And so, Big Macintosh, his eyes closed against the glare, tenderly pressed upwards into Suru and felt her shudder in pleasure, her physical orgasms so exhausted by now that she could only quiver bonelessly… and the one bone they had left between them—the stallion-bone kept erect by Suru’s intense dedication and constriction—pressed deeper into her molten vagina, and compressed the sea of warm horsecome, and pressed outward against all her female-bits at once, and as she let out a feeble croak of joy the horngasm burst forth as she vented still more magic. At one point, he’d tried rocking his hips gently into her so that the sensation became a continuing thing: not just a pressure, but tenderly balling both her and the reservoir of come, at once. That was when he’d learned to shut his eyes against the glare. It had also been where her voice gave out, and when he thought he’d had her. He’d gone for a couple minutes that way, amazed at her stamina, and in no more than a couple minutes Suru’s pussy had unclenched in sheer exhaustion, overwhelmed by the intensity of the unending orgasm. Then, as he began to withdraw, somehow impossibly she’d grabbed him. She’d clenched onto him with what remained of her strength, and he could only see her eyes in the dimness of the room: her horngasm had taken out a light fixture, though it didn’t seem to worry her. “…gentler…” she’d croaked, and hung on, waiting. Big Macintosh had bowed his head, snuggled her, closed his eyes, and proceeded to do just that as long as he had strength to do it. He heard some kind of noise outside, but surely that was normal on a nice cool Neighpon evening. He felt Suru wriggle feebly against him, and in the nonverbal harmony they shared, he ever-so-tenderly nudged upward into her for what seemed the thousandth time. She tensed as the horngasm burst forth, blinding against his closed eyelids… Shouting. There was shouting outside. Big Macintosh opened his eyes, and saw that Suru’s horngasm had blasted a hole in the wall when he wasn’t looking. It was her exhausted stillness that had done it: she’d been aiming at the same spot, her horn had been pointing unwaveringly at just one point. Big Macintosh’s eyes returned from the hole in the wall, through which horngasm gushed to outdoors, back to its source… With a spray of sparks and that burning smell, the last shreds of Suru’s horn burned away, and there was no more horngasm. He froze, his mare wrapped in his forelegs, staring. It was a worrying little crater in her head. He was sure he’d heard somepony talking about how that was bad for a unicorn: how if you burned their horn up, they died. But Suru wasn’t dead: as the last sparks settled to the floor, she stirred, at first tensing her pussy onto him as she’d been doing, and then nuzzling against his chest as if waking from a long, wearying dream. She looked up at him, her eyes dazed, questioning. That cute little tongue came out again, licked her lips. The sound of hooves trotting through the house, coming nearer. A magic glow lifted the latch, the special unicorns-only door-fastening that had secured Suru’s inner sanctum from intrusion. A very worried-looking Kirin came in and stopped, staring at Suru and Big Macintosh just as Suru finally relaxed her grip. Alarmed, Big Macintosh tugged his sore and throbbing erection out of her, and an ocean of horsecome poured out of Suru. She shuddered and cried out a lewd little cry as her pussy was vacated, and then sagged across Big Macintosh’s barrel, indecently satiated. “Aw, horseapples,” moaned Big Macintosh, unable to get up while she sprawled across him. “Jes’ tell me how much trouble Ah’m in.” At this, Suru twitched. She squirmed weakly, then managed to lift her head. “What do you mean?” she asked. Behind her, the Kirin spoke. “There’s no trouble, Mister Horse. We know our Suru, of course. Don’t assume that other mares prefer this fate… but our Suru will be fine, I’m sure it’s not too l…” He trailed off, shocked. As he spoke, Suru had turned to face him, as if she’d been caught by some parent or authority. It broke Big Macintosh’s heart to see her face slip from deep waves of joy and bliss, to guilt and resentment. Something was wrong… but by the reaction of the Kirin, the horror in his eyes, something else was even wronger. The Kirin rushed forward, to his side. In the glow of that curious horn, Big Macintosh’s and Suru’s faces were illuminated. The Kirin had eyes only for what remained of Suru’s horn, and as Suru’s eyes went wide in alarm, the Kirin’s horn flamed to brilliance and formed a magical tendril that reached forward delicately to where her horn had been… She jolted in Big Macintosh’s embrace, with a cry of pain, and the magical tendril flicked off instantly. Her eyes were so wide, as she glanced between Big Macintosh and the Kirin. She lifted a hoof to her head, wincing, and the Kirin watched as if this was itself a horrifying thing. And she looked back at him, an intense and mysterious gaze that he couldn’t break from… and Big Macintosh saw a quavery smile begin to come to her lips. “It IS too late,” she said gently, to the Kirin. He shook his head, dismayed, appalled. The smile grew. “I’m sorry.” “But…” said the Kirin. “There are others,” said Suru gently. That smile glowed. Big Macintosh felt her whole body relaxing… and then she’d tucked her head under his chin, nuzzling up to him, that little burned crater right up against his throat, and she melted against her barbarian lover, still smiling. The Kirin ran madly back through the house and outside, terror in his eyes, and then Big Macintosh heard his hooves hitting the roof, climbing until the freaked-out Kirin stood on the highest point… and the sound of a magical discharge, like something sending off a desperate beacon, was heard. “Am too, in trouble,” said Big Macintosh. Suru lifted her head, and kissed him full on the lips. She seemed unable to stop smiling. “No, you’re not.” “Am too!” The Kirin clattered back inside, his cloven hoofprints mingling with the others on the carpet. “I’ve sent for Daiyam!” “Won’t help,” said Suru gently. “I’m so sorry.” “No, you’re not!” wailed the Kirin. Suru shut her mouth. She looked faintly shocked. She glanced at Big Macintosh, then back at the frantic Kirin. “It’s true,” she said. “You’re right. I’m not. But… but I’m a little bit sorry about not being sorry? Does that help, Gimu?” Before he could answer, there was a sound from outside, like some pony splitting the sky with speed and urgency, and it whooshed right up close and then stopped. All doors in the house flew open in a glow of magic, and into the room charged a noble old Kirin, even his rescue-charge a thing of grace and poetry. “Where is the…” he began, and then even he trailed off. Gimu, the younger Kirin, began to blush. Daiyam, for it was he, walked up to look at Big Macintosh and Suru. He refrained from stepping in the large puddle of horse semen, but didn’t flinch from their obvious post-coital sweaty disheveledness. He stepped all around the bed, looking under it, on the floor, searching the room. Having done this, he turned to the younger Kirin. “‘Death and loss and woe’. That is why you brought me here. Have you not made a mistake, dear young Gimu?” Gimu, the younger Kirin, gulped. “Be kind!” implored Suru. “Don’t punish him!” Daiyam glanced at her, those ageless eyes holding hers. “Have no fear.” “Gimu’s frightened!” protested Suru, her eyes glistening. Hearing this, the old Kirin walked over to her, even stepping in the puddle of spooge on his way, as if it had become beneath his notice. He gazed into her eyes, bent, and he kissed her forehead… where her horn had been. “Have no fear,” he repeated. “All is lost!” wailed Gimu, the younger Kirin. “And yes, I have fear!” Big Macintosh and Suru both flinched. In a single move, old Daiyam had whirled to confront the younger Kirin, and his mane and tail flared brightly, and the anger in his eyes was as terrible as his usual peace was wonderful. “And THAT,” roared the elder Kirin, “is the harm you’ve caused!” They stared, frozen, while Daiyam faced Gimu down. Then, slowly, Gimu knelt, abasing himself before the old Kirin, pressing his chest to the carpet. He, at least, still took pains to avoid the puddle of spooge. “Teach me, my teacher,” said Gimi, trembling. Daiyam took a deep breath, calming himself. Big Macintosh and Suru watched, far too intimidated to say anything. Gimi remained abased, and listened intently. “I cannot heal this,” said Daiyam. “No trace of horn has she left. But I would not do so, even if I could. I’ve seen this before.” Gimu stirred, but didn’t speak. Daiyam continued. “Five thousand years in the past, there was a Kirin who wanted to be safe. A Kirin like you,” intoned Daiyam. “Five thousand years in the past, there was a pony like this. Her gifts were special.” He paused in his recitation, but Gimu didn’t look up. “And five thousand years ago,” continued Daiyam, “that Kirin arranged for his peers to drink deep. He meant only well. Certain he was that the Kirin would prevail.” “Prevail against what?” asked Suru in a tiny voice. Her eyes were still tearful, and she gazed worriedly at Gimu, who still stared at the floor. Daiyam turned, and his eyes were soft and sad as they met hers. “Nothing, child.” He continued. “Five thousand years in the past, that Kirin protected from what had not happened yet. From what might never happen. That Kirin cherished the unicorn mare that fueled him. Surely he could keep all ponies from harm, in this way.” Gimu sobbed, quietly, and did not look up. Daiyam continued, more and more solemnly. “That Kirin built a world around his mare friend. She could power an army. On her withers rested the future of all Neighpon.” He bowed his head. “He let her know that,” said Daiyam. “He thought she’d be proud.” Suru was crying now, but she didn’t stop him. “And one day,” said Daiyam gravely, “he rushed to the scene. She had been injured. But it was not as he thought. Five thousand years in the past, ponies were more fierce. She had burned off her poor horn… but she’d smashed it first. Mere fragments remained.” Both Suru and Gimu gasped, shocked. Daiyam stared them down, and they returned to listening. “In his madness, the Kirin wanted to fix her horn,” said Daiyam. “The mare, no longer a unicorn, refused. She loved him. But she could not carry the weight of all of Neighpon.” He bowed his head again. After a moment, Suru asked, “What happened to her?” “The mare died,” said Daiyam. Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Now jes’ an apple-pickin’ minute!” Daiyam’s eyes silenced him. “Of old age,” he explained. “Still loved by Kirin. But as just a mare. Not as a weapon.” Gimu sobbed, again. “Do you understand,” said Daiyam, “what I have told you?” Gimu remained abased. He looked at the floor, and he said, “You may destroy me. I am just as bad.” “You have understood nothing,” said Daiyam, sadly. “Did you not destroy that evil, cruel Kirin?” “Look at me,” said Daiyam. Gimu’s chin lifted, to be met halfway by a kiss on top of his muzzle. It was the elder Kirin. Daiyam was weeping, smiling, forgiving. His eyes were pools of love and acceptance, though still with a hint of authority that said: this is how things shall be. Gimu stared, unable to understand. “I was that Kirin,” said Daiyam. “Ah still feel like I ought to be gallopin’ out of town as fast as I kin,” said Big Macintosh. Suru snuggled closer. Now that she had no horn, she seemed to like nothing better than spooning with him and tucking her head under his chin. “You mustn’t!” she said. “You said the cello-playing mare would be cross if you did that twice in a row. And what if she, or the record-playing mare, were doing like you and sleeping with townsponies?” “You shouldn’t call her that,” said Big Macintosh. “She’s a DJ, seems like that’s more than jes’ a record-playing mare. Anyhoof, they ain’t. Least, Vinyl does it rarely and frets about it when she do, and I ain’t seen Octavia with townsponies even once. Which is kinda funny, back home she’s more adventurous.” “You’re adventurous,” crooned Suru, nuzzling under his chin. “Too dang adventurous,” grumbled Big Macintosh. “What’s bothering you?” asked Suru. She turned to look at him. He frowned. “Ah hurt them.” “Who?” “Them Kirin. All’s I wanted was to get practice, uh, milkin’ unicorns, an’ look what happened. Ah bet they hate me now.” Suru pouted. Then she bopped him on the nose with a hoof. “Ow!” The blow was immediately followed by a kiss, and then she turned around and snuggled up again. Big Macintosh shook his head, astonished. “What th’ HAY was that for? Mixed messages, ma’am?” Suru sighed. “Shame on you, huge sexy horse. Unicorns are people, not things. I understood everything Daiyam had to teach us, because he was telling my story. Poor Gimu! I don’t hate him, but it was just like that. Look at this room! I’m just a little pony, it was scary to have so much responsibility, to feed so many. You were seeing things like Gimu saw them. You were milking unicorns for magic and found a special one and milked her dry, just because you could.” Big Macintosh was speechless for a moment. “So why did you kiss me?” he said. “Because you did. You set me free,” said Suru, snuggling back against him. “Now I’m just me. I don’t have to be anything else.” “Gimu prob’ly hates me now,” said Big Macintosh. “Daiyam doesn’t,” said Suru. “And I don’t.” Even hours after Suru had cuddled up and gone to sleep, dreaming blissfully of her freedom and future as a simple earth pony, Big Macintosh still lay awake trying to make sense of it all. He could have fed Hina for years, decades on what he’d got out of Suru while he used her up. Assuming she didn’t choke on all that raw magic, he could have gone all the way, stuffing any imaginable Kirin with magic and giving Suru the boon she wanted, by burning her horn entirely away through her own discharges. He could have done all that with Hina, and in some ways it was exactly what he'd set out to prove. But for the life of him, he couldn’t work out whether Hina would have made him stop.
Turn The PageVinyl Scratch wriggled and stretched, in the sunbeam. He drew her closer without waking, and the sensation flipped her heart… or, perhaps, jounced it? Penetrated it? He’d been doing that, though not with her heart. But all the same, something had happened. Perhaps it was all the stress? Something about his steadfast, nurturing presence, the earnest way he enjoyed her… no, that wasn’t even the word. Michian had enjoyed her. He’d enjoyed her a little too much, too deeply, and he’d been shamed by his needs. Rebelliously, Vinyl thought to herself: he should go to Ponyville, or Canterlot. Have unicorn foals. Life was too damn short. It burst out like an overwound clock, sproinging in every direction, alarming and unmanageable until it led, unaccountably… Here. Here, in Hasu’s dreaming embrace. Here, where she need have never left: a skein of reality where she'd thought it but a thread. Only a strand had led back to the life she’d known, as her world tangled and snarled… and then, in one touch, the thread from her past turned to a fluffy skein of warmth, and she drew it around her and found it good. Birds chirped obliviously, in the trees outside. It was rainy, just a drizzle illuminated by mid-morning. Vinyl Scratch smiled at it. Everything was a little softer, a little quieter in Shido: Shido, in the Nairiku-bu province, where she came from. Home. Vinyl wriggled again, gently. Hasu held her in his dreams, and snored a bit, and this too amused her. But in addition to that, there was something else: soft, quiet, but it probably wouldn’t stay that way for too long. His stifle, or possibly his gaskin, or at least somewhere on the front of his leg… pressed cozily between her own butt-cheeks. Without knowing it, he was giving her pussy a morning massage with every lazy shift of position. Without forcing it, Vinyl was winking wetly against his tenderly nuzzling thigh, and the scent was having its inevitable effect: Hasu’s horsecock was sneaking out to join her. She frowned a cute little frown. It was tempting to see how hard he could get him in his dream, but she’d have to scooch forward and deprive herself of the pleasure of his cozy thigh. But if she didn’t, the increasing squishing of his equine hose would lead him to… He did. Hasu woke, with a snort and a whinny and a shove against her treasure, and Vinyl moaned happily at the firm contact and winked against his stifle again. “Ermf… hrrf… buh?” Vinyl answered him with a kiss, and his dazed eyes flew wide in amazement. “Errrrrr mmmmm Gmmmmmmd…” “Oh, I’m sorry,” teased Vinyl, “did you need to use that mouth for something that wasn’t kissing me?” He blinked, licking his lips, looking stunned. “Oh my GAAWWWWD, it wasn’t a dream.” “It’s called life, sweetie,” cooed Vinyl. “Love it.” He kept blinking and looking astonished, until Vinyl pouted and said, “Well, if you don’t love it, I promise you I totally do!” “No! No no, I mean, what I’m saying is yes I do certainly love it, um I would think that was self-evident, if this isn’t convenient for you this early in the morning I can go run a few laps around the house, I don’t mind if it’s raining, it’s not much more than a drizzle…” Vinyl’s eyes flew wide. “Oh no!” “Maybe you don’t like the rain as much as you used to? We used to hang out indoors reading sometimes when it was drizzly like this. You know Shido’s half grass and half drizzle…” “That’s not what I meant, silly!” she squeaked, her ruby eyes wide and startled. “I still miss the Shido drizzle! It’s so peaceful, this is a wonderful morning!” “Then what did you mean?” Vinyl’s lovely, shades-less eyes went from startled to sultry in two seconds flat. “Please don’t leave. And definitely don’t run a few laps, ‘k? I have a better idea.” “So you do,” observed Hasu, dryly. Vinyl wriggled against his gaskin, wetly. Hasu curled his lip in delight, savoring the presence and scents of her. “So don’t go anywhere,” added Vinyl. “Anywhere?” teased Hasu, kneading her vulva with his knee and the front of his thigh. “Nnngh!” panted Vinyl. “Okay, you got me. One place. You might be able to find it. It’s not far.” “Best place,” rumbled Hasu, fondly. “On best pony.” “Mmmmm…” From then on, they spoke with touches, so comfortable with each other that no words were needed. Hasu fondled Vinyl until she squirmed and panted for breath, arching her neck against his, fevered with marely eagerness. He clopped himself until he was stiff, scooched back, aimed, and poked his delighted flare into her… with a gasp of his own, for playful Vinyl tensed herself and confronted him with a taut, slippery nook that reminded him of their shared youth. And then she relaxed, because the fucking they’d done the previous night had let him explain: he didn’t want her to give him a performance, he wanted to make love like she’d never left. Vinyl had a profoundly practiced pussy and a technique groomed in Fillydelphia, but it didn’t matter at all. The love he had for her extended back to earlier days, when she was not much more than an eager filly befriending the neighborhood bookworm, and trading discovery for discovery. Hasu snuggled her in perfect happiness, tenderly thrusting his decent horsecock within her eager, quivering folds. Vinyl gasped and let out a moan… it was a curious thing, a very pleasing curious thing he was trading her now. After years of giddy debauchery, she’d come home, and after years of sexual showoffery, somehow good old Hasu brought a special thing. It wasn’t the size or specialties of his horsecock, though that was perfectly adequate: somehow, the extent to which she’d opened herself to him, the way she’d returned to her hometown and his embrace, had liberated her. She didn’t feel brazen, or cheap, or too jaded. She’d forgotten where she left her glasses, her stupid glasses. He didn’t need them. He totally, totally didn’t need them. She was Vinyl from up the street, the filly with a head full of dreams, and she’d been taking him so for granted way back then. She shuddered, and her vision blurred for a moment as his cock continued to explore her body, freely and with the same kind of eagerness he’d had long ago. Hasu somehow knew how to stretch it, because he was loving having his dick in a vagina far too much to hurry… but, on top of that, he also loved her. It was a heady, intoxicating blend. He cuddled her to him lovingly, but with an excitement that showed he wasn’t intimidated, and thrust went the horsecock right up to rattle her gates, and then it was thrusting more shallowly, and it was just so damn thrilling to be with your best friend and still be playing these new games, both of you letting the excitement take over, both of you building it just to see how high up into the faintly drizzly Shido skies you could soar… “Ngg! Hhhh! Errnnnhh! Uhh!” Just like old times, lusty Vinyl came first, and Hasu redoubled his fondling, his eyes shining with exaltation. Just like old times, he bit his lip tenderly, and his gaze unfocussed: trying on the one hoof to remember every sweet detail, and on the other hoof, to keep it going because he loved his mare dearly and loved seeing her like this. “Ahhh!” moaned Vinyl, her face reddening as she arched her neck to gaze back at him in delighted awe. It always seemed astonishing that Hasu’s cock felt so incomparable at such moments, still did years later after she’d had all manner of horse dick, sometimes three at a time. Vinyl’s chest reddened as well, and her ears went flaming red, and her jaw dangled as her body gave in to serious, protracted orgasm like it wasn’t going to be done for quite a while. Hasu drank her in, worshipping her with steady, firm, deep thrusts, sinking into the look in her eyes and letting his energies build. He grinned a slightly feral grin, and his eyes crinkled up. He always did. It pleased him to bring Vinyl to this state: in a long and comfortable life, there hadn’t been any moments to compare with these treasured memories of Vinyl Scratch, her mind melting with delicious orgasm, pressed lovingly against him as he worked an increasingly hard and throbbing cock inside her, undaunted by her joyous shrieks and fierce clenches. This time, his ears laid back a little, because prodigal Vinyl returning home boasted a horsepussy that could dent a cock of stone. It only made him grin harder. She was so wet and slippery that he didn’t even slow his stroke. Until… as he felt his own climax approach, he bowed his head reverently, and he did slow his stroke. Not completely, but he arched his own neck, and as Vinyl’s eyes widened, Hasu dragged out his own last moments as long… as… he… possibly… could… “Eeeeh!” Vinyl’s eyes went wide and shocked. And, as Hasu gazed lovingly into them, Vinyl Scratch shook like a little pony leaf… and a tiny squirt of magic arced thinly out of her horn, to dissipate across the floor. Then another, that didn’t even reach the ground… and then she was hyperventilating, eyes so wide, totally vulnerable. Hasu’s gaze adored her, and then without hesitation he thrust deep and clung to his dear lost Vinyl Scratch and held her so tight, and she clung to him with desperate force, her heart pounding… and Hasu came, in a series of spurts and foolish grunts and whinnies, buried inside his overwhelmed mare, pressed against her as she hung onto him. “Oh! Hasu! Ohh! Oh! Holdme! Oh! Hasu, hold me don’t let go holdme!” “I’m here!” he panted, not unhugging for a moment. “I’m nnh! here!” “Oh! Uh! Unnh! Uhh! Oh!” “I’m here! Oh, Vinyl!” “Uhh! Hhhh!” Gradually, they shuddered and spasmed to a halt, both panting for air, Vinyl’s face and ears and chest scarlet. She seemed unable to get the shocked look out of her eyes, trapped staring wildly into Hasu’s until she blinked and glanced in alarm at the floor where her horngasm had gone. There was no damage, nothing at all. Vinyl blushed even redder. “I don’t usually…” “I know,” soothed Hasu. Vinyl gulped, feeling wrung out, panting. “I mean… maybe I shoulda done even more when you came, but I…” “I know,” soothed Hasu, earnestly. “Oh my gosh Hasu,” managed Vinyl. “I… I…” Hasu swallowed as well, his mane lank with sweat. “Vinyl.” “Uh-huh?” she squeaked, fillyishly. “I’m getting soft but I’m still in there. Do you need me to stay for a moment?” Vinyl Scratch’s expression was utter astonishment, and then her eyes filled with tears and she just nodded, overcome, unable to speak. Hasu set his jaw, scooched his hips forward, and pushed his wobbly weiner as deeply into Vinyl as he could and held her tight, wrapping her in his forelegs and nearly his hindlegs as well, shielding her in an embrace that was both strong stallion limbs and squishy stallion wilting-boner. All he had, he gave to Vinyl, and she shivered and gave a quiet sob and wept, clinging to what was left of his erection with all her force, nuzzling back against his solicitous nuzzles and licks. He was repressing a grin. She sniffled, and said, “What?” “Salty,” replied her saucy lover. “Delicious, in fact.” “Whose fault is that?” grumped Vinyl, smiling tearfully at him. “Guilty,” he said, and beamed lovingly at her. She made a face. “Sorry. I… you know.” “Yeah, I remember,” said Hasu. “Listen. Vinyl. You’re okay.” Her lip quivered, and she pouted. “Yeah, for an earth pony mayb…” “No, Vinyl, listen.” She teared up again. “I’m sorry! That’s not nice to say. I’m so embarrassed I did that but, but, I totally couldn’t help it…” “Vinyl! You’re okay. This is what I never got to tell you. All those years ago, and I never got to say it, and oh my GAWWWD will ya shut up and listen you silly filly? I’m sorry, I mean… Seriously, Vinyl!” He had her full attention. The wide, tearful eyes were drinking him in. Hasu continued. “You’re okay, just the way you are. It doesn’t matter, it never did. You’re Vinyl! You’re the kid down the street, and my best friend growing up, and then so much more… and I rejoiced with you the day the… you know. But I worried, because I knew, or I thought I did. I thought maybe I was just awful, you know? And then it was the bad time, and you were so upset and it wasn’t even a week before you had run away to foreign lands…” Vinyl couldn’t speak. She just clung to him, weeping cleansing tears, listening to his gentle words. “And I never could tell you,” said Hasu, “and I told myself it didn’t matter that much. I can’t be angry with, you know, him. He tried, I’m sure. He moved away, you know, though he still visits sometimes. Listen, Vinyl. I love you, and you’re all the Vinyl I ever needed, then and now. Maybe you can take it from me if that helps any. You’re Vinyl, and you’re enough, and you’re okay.” She trembled in his embrace, and then twisted her neck and kissed him fervently and he kissed back and that was everything in the world, for a little time: time for worlds to begin and end, time for eternity, time for grace. They parted, and Vinyl’s eyes were glowing, and she quipped, “If I can’t take it from you, why am I so fuckin’ wobbly?” “Guilty,” smiled Hasu. Then, Vinyl’s cocky little grin eroded. “Hasu?” “Yeah?” “Hasuuu?” “I’m here, Vinyl. In fact… rrrrff! I’m in there, too.” The moderate tensing of a flaccid penis didn’t seem to distract her. Instead, Vinyl gazed at him in great seriousness, her lip quivering. “I… I was gonna be all bold an’ naughty, Hasu, and I was gonna say… I think I’ll keep you.” Hasu nodded, solemnly. “Do ya love me?” asked Vinyl Scratch. “Cos I love you somethin’ hardcore.” “I’ll always love you,” said Hasu. “W… will ya keep me?” asked Vinyl Scratch. Hasu’s eyes sank into hers, and she gave herself up to them. She didn’t rush him. Even back in the old days, Hasu had been the sensible one, and she’d been the hothead, impulsive and mercurial. Now, she yielded herself to the wisdom she knew he had, and she let him ponder it. “As long as you want me to,” said Hasu. “It looks like that means ‘yes’.” Vinyl’s eyes flooded with tears, and she relaxed back into his embrace. “No, seriously, let me,” said Vinyl. “No fair! I’m like your wife or something, you gotta let me make you breakfast!” “Did you ever cook breakfast before, Vinyl?” asked Hasu. “Nooooo… not exactly COOK… but I can learn…” “What do you eat in the morning, Vinyl?” “Sugared alfalfa bars,” said Vinyl. “Ya know, for energy! Unless… yeah, unless anypony else cooks for me.” She pouted. “Can you even stand up, Vinyl?” teased Hasu. “Yeah, like you’re real steady on your hooves!” retorted Scratch. “Come kiss me again.” He did, solemnly, his eyes dancing with pleasure. “Seconds?” “Not until I’ve cooked breakfast!” protested Hasu, her happily hapless horsebando. “Vinylll! Oh my GAWWWD!” “Oh all right,” said Vinyl. “Whatcha making?” “Don’t you even recognize it? Haycakes.” Vinyl made a face. “Hmph. Just like… yeah, that’s okay actually. You are forgiven. Eeeee, Hasu! I’m gonna get up, watch.” She heaved herself out of bed and splatted bonelessly onto the floor like a liquified mare. “Technically, I think that’s more the definition of ‘down’…” observed Hasu. Vinyl cackled. “Yeah but watch this. In Fillydelphia the unicorns dance in this way, and there’s a move they use. I taught it to some little kids once and they won a dance-off with it… the white one, really, the orange one was a pegasus and she was all popping and locking.” “Sounds messy! And I hope someone unlocked you all and let you back out,” said Hasu. Vinyl snickered. “Watch.” She heaved herself up, and got one hoof after another under her center of gravity. Then, she shimmied her hooves in place and stabilized herself, and lifted her head to beam at him. “Tadah!” “I’ll blow on you,” suggested Hasu. “You’ll fall right over.” “Nuh-uh,” insisted Vinyl. “Watch.” She frowned in concentration, and began to rhythmically flick her tail. Then, tap a rear hoof. Then, she bobbed her head, and began to sing ‘oontz, oontz, oontz’ to herself… and as she did, she strutted feebly forward and plunked herself into a chair at the table. “Told ya!” “Wow,” said Hasu, smiling. “What’s the trick?” “I got the music,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Even if I don’t have my phones, if I think it, I can do anything.” “Including eat haycakes?” “Especially eat haycakes!” proclaimed Vinyl, and the two fell upon breakfast like they’d not eaten for days. “I haven’t seen your bookstore for… well, seriously, Hasu, it wasn’t even your bookstore back when I lived here!” cried Vinyl. Hasu trotted wearily along. The drizzle had stopped, and they’d bathed in a stream. Vinyl had gone back to the house to grab her shades. She wasn’t wearing them in the usual way, but she explained, “If it does start to rain again, it’s great, I can gallop right into the rain and not have to blink or anything!” Their progress was interspersed by nuzzling, and a certain amount of staggering. “It is your bookstore now? Ya bought it? From… what was her name?” “Hokori,” said Hasu. “You remember.” “Nah,” said Vinyl. “She was so old, and you know, books. But now I love them! I can totally pick up a book with my horn even if it’s kinda heavy, maybe not super duper heavy, but I can still do it. I can be helpful. And I won’t even worry about it. Like, maybe for me that’s what my magic is for. Picking up little things… and for you.” She nuzzled his neck, with her horn. “Oh, Vinyl,” said Hasu, indulgently. “You can just decorate my bookstore, my beautiful Vinyl.” “Yeah, yeahyeah!” said Vinyl. She pranced for a moment, then staggered and caught herself. “Woahh! I could keep you amused. You know, when it gets boring.” “It’s not boring,” said Hasu. “New books come, from all over Neighpon. Farther, even. It’s a beautiful life, everything I wanted.” “Everything?” teased Vinyl. “Almost everything,” chuckled Hasu. “I could decorate it with streamers and stuff! There’s this pony back h… back in Ponyville. Pinkie Pie, her name is. She’s a beast for streamers, oh my GAWWWWD you never saw the like. I could use my horn to attach streamers and decorations to stuff! I’m not sure I’m that good at tying knots and things like that, but I can learn. It’s gonna be great. Eeee, is that it?” “My second home,” said Hasu proudly. “Eeeee! It’s as stuffy and old as ever! Is it still like all dust and boring inside, and sooooo quiet?” “I’m sure I can make some allowances,” smiled Hasu. “You can bring your… oh, pony hell, I can’t believe I’m fumbling this. Uh… dock? Your dock? You know.” He stopped. Vinyl Scratch had frozen in the street, with a look of horror on her face. “Oh, no!” said Hasu. “I remember what it meant to you. You must have been using it at the concert! Of course, how could you do what you do without it? It sounded wonderful. Vinyl, talk to me! What’s wrong? We’ll go, we’ll go right now and get your dock.” “Deck,” said Vinyl Scratch, staring at nothing as if nothing had fangs and a very bad attitude. “Deck! I’m so sorry,” said Hasu. “I knew that. I’ll remember. We’ll go and get your deck, right now…” “Decks,” said Vinyl, beginning to tremble. “There’s two now. Still on stage, even. I didn’t even put them away.” Hasu’s jaw dropped. “Vinyl, talk to me. I know you very well, and that just made it worse. Did you replace the first one? It seems impossible.” “N-no…” Hasu was seizing her, shaking her. “Vinyl, tell me! What happened? Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, but how could you possibly… did you go find a matching one? Vinyl, you look like you’re seeing a ghost! Please tell me what’s wrong! That was the most important thing you had in all Neighpon!” Vinyl gulped, looking haunted. “I needed two, to perform. That’s two decks, I’m on two decks, because of the beat matching. I didn’t have them in Shido. And I needed two…” “Let it out,” urged Hasu. “Let it out, then we’ll go and fix everything, I promise.” “There was this, this, traveling magician,” said Vinyl unsteadily. “And he had this w-wand. And I needed two. And h… he never told me it would be DIVIDED…” Hasu’s jaw dropped, and then he was hugging her. “Oh, VINYL! Poor Vinyl!” “No it’s okay, it’s okay,” insisted Vinyl, “don’t be like that or I’ll start crying again. I gotta go get them, I gotta, I didn’t even say goodbye, they’ll be so scared…” “They were broken? You take care of them?” pressed Hasu. “No, they’re stars along with me. The guy, he built them back up again, they’re great… I’ll never let artifact magic touch them again, ever EVER… look, I gotta get them, you understand. They need to join me. We’ll go right away, okay?” Hasu gazed at her for a moment. “…or maybe you need to join them,” he said. “What?” Even as she said it, the sound of galloping hooves in the distance began to grow louder. Vinyl just stared helplessly at Hasu, as the sound built and resolved itself into two ponies. One was gray, with a disheveled black mane and tail. One was a huge red stallion, covered in sweat, his eyes terrified. Even before they approached Vinyl and Hasu, Octavia and Big Macintosh were bawling and apologising at the top of their lungs. “We’re SORRY! We’re sorry we’re so sorry please don’t be angry we love you we’re sorry we’re sorry…” Vinyl stared, her shades perched on the top of her head. She did have a glance for Big Macintosh, but mostly she could not stop looking at weeping, grovelling Octavia. She couldn’t even blink. “WE’RE SORRY AW HORSEAPPLES WE’RE SO CONSARNED SORRY RIGHT NOW…” “Please!” said Hasu, gently, while Big Macintosh tried to draw a breath. The gentle bookseller reached up and booped Big Macintosh’s nose with a delicate hoof. “Please, calm yourself, everything will be fine!” As their eyes met, Octavia fell silent, and just fixed Vinyl with a desperately vulnerable gaze, her lip quivering. She glanced at Hasu, her eyes wide. She looked back at Vinyl… She was seized in a fierce embrace by her best friend in all Equestria, and burst into wailing tears on Vinyl Scratch’s shoulder. “Oh, Tavi,” managed Vinyl. “Ohhhh, Tavi…” Beside them, Hasu nodded. “My good stallion! If I’m not mistaken, you helped move things for my Vinyl. You didn’t bring her docks, ah, decks, by chance?” Big Macintosh shook his head, wide-eyed. “No matter,” said Hasu. “May I soothe your feelings with a hug?” Big Macintosh nodded, and without hesitation the calm bookseller reared and wrapped him in a kindly pony hug. “Don’t worry,” said Hasu. “Everything will be all right.” “How did you even find us?” asked Vinyl. “Tavi! Big Macintosh! How did you come all the way out here? Did someone recognize Hasu?” Octavia shook her head, opened her mouth, and then gave up trying to speak and returned to frantically hugging Vinyl again. Big Macintosh cleared his throat. “We followed th’ signs…” Hasu wrinkled his brow. “But there aren’t good signs in Nairiku-bu province. We know where we live, it’s not exactly the capital city, is it? Did you just get lucky?” Vinyl was shaking. “I think I got lucky, not them… oh, Tavi! Poor Tavi…” Big Macintosh shook his head. “Eenope. We followed them pink signs. You know?” Blank looks greeted him. “Th’ ones that say, ‘this way to the running-away DJ and her boyfriend’?” Blank looks grew more disbelieving. “Also, sometimes, ‘hurry up you idiot, this way, you can’t go over the stupid mountains’?” “There’s no such signs,” said Hasu. “I’ve never even heard of such signs. Pink? Could it be pink demons leading you to your doom?” Vinyl hugged weeping Octavia tighter. “Definitely not that,” she said. “Maybe away from it?” She realized what she was saying, and glanced at Hasu, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean that! I just… I…” Hasu released Big Macintosh. He was smiling, and slightly tearful. “Shhh. It’s all right, my Vinyl.” Vinyl’s lip was quivering. “B-but I… I CAN’T be your Vinyl…” “You will always be my Vinyl,” said Hasu, firmly. “And I’ll always love you. Go on. Keep on being Vinyl. You’re the world’s Vinyl, too. That’s not wrong.” Vinyl’s lip quivered worse, and then she’d flung herself into his embrace, and they hugged fiercely, as Octavia and Big Macintosh said not a word. Then, Vinyl parted from the embrace, and walked deliberately over to Octavia, and kissed her on the muzzle. “We’ll talk. And thank you. Mare needs a reminder, sometimes.” Octavia gulped. “I’m so sorry, Scratchie…” “Shhh,” said Vinyl Scratch. “It’s okay, baby. I know.” “Scratchie?” “Yeah, Tavi?” “He’s really nice,” said Octavia. “Your stallion.” “Yeah he is,” said Vinyl Scratch. She turned, and faced Hasu. He wasn’t crying, and he faced her bravely. Vinyl Scratch went up to him, and just looked into his eyes. “Forever, Hasu.” “Of course,” said the bookseller stallion. “I love you. I’ll… give your love to my decks? You remembered, all these years later.” “Of course,” said Hasu. “Of course. Give them a kiss from me. Uh, if they’re down for that sort of thing?” Scratch was undeterred. “Hasu?” “Yeah?” “I may never see you again.” Hasu stepped closer. “I know,” he said, simply. His tears were perfectly balanced by his brave smile. Vinyl reared, and gave him a fierce hug, and kissed him like the end of the world… Then she’d whirled, and was trotting off, still somewhat unsteady, but determined. But not before lifting a hoof… and dropping her shades down in perfect DJ Pon-3 style. They shielded her eyes from the rain… from without, or within. Big Macintosh and Octavia fell in beside her, as they began the long journey back to where they’d left the decks, Octavia’s cello, and their entire lives as touring musicians. They kept up a steady trot, because there was a crucial command performance to give, and they had to get around the mountains somehow with far too little time to cover that ground. “Scratchie.” “Yeah?” “Since when are you, me? I’m supposed to be the big romantic.” “Shut up,” said Vinyl Scratch, and gave Octavia a kiss.
Planting FlagsAs they rode through the hills and valleys of Neighpon, Octavia looked sidelong at Vinyl Scratch, her longtime companion. “So, is now a good time?” “Huh?” said Scratch, distractedly. “To tell me.” said Octavia gravely. Vinyl Scratch rolled her eyes. “No biggie, we’re on our way, end of story all set don’t worry about it k?” Octavia’s ears went back. “Vinyl.” “Nah, really, it’s okay…” “Vinyl!” demanded Octavia. “I said end of story!” Octavia fell silent, studying the little pout on Scratch’s muzzle, trying to solve the mystery. Her eyes flicked up to check the Neighponnese unicorn’s eyes, which were angrily fixed on what little horizon could be seen. Octavia frowned, knitting her brow. She glanced at Scratch’s expression again. Yes, she was cross, but was that a hint of the tearfulness returning? It decided her. “Scratchie?” said Tavi, very gently. “Maybe it is a little tiny story all the same. Please?” Scratch’s expression darkened into a grimace, as the cart rolled along. “Maybe I should get off and run the rest of the way, so Big Macintosh doesn’t get tired!” Without turning his head, Big Macintosh called back, “Eenope! This cart ain’t nothin’. Enjoy your ride!” “But you’re not, dear sweet Scratchie,” said Octavia. “What’s bothering you?” “Sweet! That’s a good one.” “Well, you are,” argued Octavia. “I know you better than my own mate. Or any of our side-ponies, and you and I don’t even make love.” Vinyl pouted. “Or, rather,” continued Octavia earnestly, “not with our bodies. We make all the love there could be, with our friendship.” Vinyl angrily wiped a tear. “There, you see! Something’s hurting you. You’re acting so strange. Back at the harbor, you were acting so strange! What was it you said? ‘Piquant’? Scratchie dear, since when do you call things ‘piquant’? Are you secretly Rarity without telling me? I suppose your fashion sense might be grateful for that…” Scratch giggled, in spite of herself. “Nah.” Her expression darkened again… but not so much into anger, rather she looked guilty and sad. “He said that.” “Who? What?” “He said ‘piquant’,” explained Scratch. “Not Big Macintosh. S… somepony else.” “Somepony hurt you?” asked Octavia, in great seriousness. “You’ve said nothing of this! Have you come to Neighpon in spite of a dreadful past, for my sake, so me and my cello can enlighten the country? Oh, Scratchie! You are so noble.” Scratch snorted. “Not even!” Octavia sat back, her ears splayed in frustration. “Well, I’m trying to understand! At home you are so happy-go-lucky. Or, sometimes, happy-go-fucky, if that is even a thing. Now that you’re here, a dark cloud hangs over you! I think Neighpon is beautiful. Do you hate it, and want to go home? We’ll have taken a long journey for nothing, in that event.” Scratch didn’t answer at first. Then she turned, and the yearning in her tearful ruby eyes was unmistakable. “No, Tavi. I’ve missed this place horribly. This is home, and I’m back where I belong. It’s just… complicated.” Octavia’s first reaction wasn’t additional talk. She scooched over, and hugged her old friend, and Vinyl Scratch didn’t wail or cry, but she melted into Octavia’s embrace and hugged back fiercely. She took deep breaths, controlling her feelings, ending up with a big sigh, and then she said “Thanks, Tavi. I love you, ya know that?” “Of course I do,” said Octavia staunchly. Scratch sighed again, and looked out to the horizon bravely. “Now I can, like, totally go on.” Octavia’s eyes narrowed, and the hint of a wry little smile played across her muzzle. “Yes… you can go on and explain to me what bothered you so much.” “TAVII!” “Vinyl Scratch, I insist! I shall know what has upset my darling Scratchie, or, or… I’ll jump out, sit in the middle of the road and not budge!” “I’ll drag ya.” “Stout Heart was feeding me cakes before I left. It might prove beyond your capacities.” “Big Macintosh will drag ya,” teased Scratch. Octavia considered that with an appalled look, and glared at Vinyl. “Well then, since clearly I can’t be a pony anchor amidst the road, I shall be a detective pony! Now let’s see. When did the Strange Behavior of Scratchie begin? Why, it was back at the harbor! Big Macintosh was leaping about, you flew into a rage, and two Kirin flew down to calm things. Yet you’re not angry with Big Macintosh now, and I know your moods pass like pegasi-driven clouds and expected that fact. What I didn’t expect was this lingering darkness. Aha! That Kirin stallion, he grabbed you and you were furious. HE was your ex-lover! Isn’t that so?” Scratch glared at Octavia. “It is not. I never saw that guy before, and that never happens! Which is part of why I’m pissy, I had no business taking it out on him. I was nervous.” “Nervous why?” demanded Octavia. “It’s been a long time, okay?” “And you were afraid,” guessed Octavia, “afraid you would be punished! I see it now, that explains everything. The rest of us are not native born, and we might act like fools, but you’re held to a higher standard, aren’t you, Vinyl? You were afraid the Kirin would exact a terrible punishment on you, for our misdeeds!” “NO!” yelled Vinyl, as Big Macintosh’s ear flicked back fretfully to hear the argument. “You take that back!” “Perhaps I overstate,” admitted Octavia. “But it explains everything, doesn’t it? Admit it, Vinyl Scratch, you’re worried we will misbehave, and you panicked when the Kirin appeared! What other possible reason could there be for your reaction, and for you to urge us away from there with all due haste?” Scratch reached maxiumum overpout, glowering at her dear friend. “Listen, you’ve got to believe me. No. Absolutely not, don’t even think it. Kirin would not hold me extra responsible for if you’re bad. Kirin won’t think you’re bad in the first place! They’re gonna keep us all safe and love us and protect us and do their very best by us, without favoring anypony in any way. This is a beautiful place to live. Don’t you… didn’t you get some, like, vague idea of the truth when Hina-rin came to visit Ponyville? I got so excited she had to send me to bed for a nap!” “And now that you’re here, something about them frightens you? Still they are a bit too much?” That got through. Vinyl Scratch winced, visibly. “Look, I need you to stop with that. I love them, we all do. Kirin are so good! They ARE good.” “Good at making you upset, dear Scratchie!” retorted Octavia. “You’re still upset. What is going on?” Scratch had the pissy look back again, with overtones of guilty… her ears were nearly pinned back to her head. “I guess I better tell you, then.” “Thank you,” said Octavia. “Yes, you should. Please, Vinyl. It’s hurting you, I’ve rarely seen you so distressed. I thought this was supposed to be a wondrous journey!” “It was,” sighed Scratch. “It is. I gotta deal with it somehow. I didn’t think it’d matter… and you guys aren’t unicorns.” Octavia blinked. “I beg your pardon? Pony prejudice, from YOU of all ponies? You are the single most egalitarian unicorn I know of, in the whole world!” “No, I mean that’s why it shouldn’t matter! We can all travel around, protected, and they’ll ask n… nothin’ of us. You shouldn’t worry.” “And you should?” pressed Octavia. “Because you’re a unicorn?” Scratch looked miserable. “Not much of one, Tavi. That’s the whole problem.” “We don’t care,” said Octavia. “You never cared before. The Kirin don’t care, you said. Or do they? Why would the Kirin care?” Vinyl Scratch sniffled. “Cos we’re… kinda like their FOOD.” Her eyes widened in alarm, as did Octavia’s. So did Big Macintosh’s, because he was staring back at them in horror… and not watching where he was going, and heading at a brisk trot into a cherry tree. “EEEEE!” “EEEEE!” Yosuru looked up at the colorfully painted sign. “We can use this place!” Applejack boggled at it. “Kyo-kyu? What’s that mean?” Yosuru laughed happily. “This is a food purveyor! You don’t have to read the words. Ponies of Neighpon like to use Kirin language to label their signs. They feel it is good fortune if they do so.” A unicorn emerged, resplendent in beautifully tailored fabrics. His eyes lit up. “Kirin! Anata o umeru?” Yosuru glanced at Applejack, and subtly shook her head at the unicorn, causing him to back up a step. “Not today,” she said. “We bring a visiting mare. Kawa is going to perform a service for this mare.” The unicorn glanced at Applejack’s forehead, and looked puzzled. Then, he brightened. “I am Mugen! Or Mugennokaijitsu. Mugen for short! Please come in.” “Well, thankee!” said Applejack. “Sure is a nice, ah, sure is a… now, what the HAY is that?” It was as red as any apple, but it was no apple. It sat motionless in a display case, resembling some insane overgrown insect. Applejack peered sidelong at it, fearfully studying the huge pinchers and creepy antennae. “Robusuta!” proclaimed Mugen. “Very rare. The pinnacle of my collection! A mark of great honor!” Kawa gave him a sharp look. “And you will sell it?” Mugen backed up a step, again. “I am sorry?” Kawa regarded him sternly. “Rare they may be, sir. I understand the appeal. But if you fish these creatures… you must sell them to feed other unicorns.” Mugen’s eyes were wide. “Of course! Of course! No robusuta shall be wasted! I ate one myself just the other day which is why I offered…” “Yes, I see,” said Yosuru. “Do not over-harvest, please! Today we require only a room and a bed.” Applejack blinked, not quite up to speed. “This is a hotel, then?” “Why would it be a hotel?” asked Yosuru, puzzled. “You’ll use my own bedroom,” said Mugen, hastily. “I will go get Uni, that’s my marefriend Uni, she is sleeping…” “Whoa whoa WHOA!” objected Applejack. “Hang on. We’re kickin’ you out of your own place? You’re gonna chase your marefriend out of her own bed jes’ so’s I can fuck a Kirin?” Mugen looked in a panicky way, between the two Kirin. He seemed frozen, unable to reply. “She does not mean to insult,” soothed Yosuru. “He is honored to do so,” added Kawa, “there is no chasing…” Applejack scraped at the floor with a forehoof. “Seems kinda funny to me! I don’t mean to insult, eh? Well, where I come from, if ya do me a solid then by Celestia it behooves me ta come up with somethin’ sweet for you in return. Mister Mugen? Tell me straight, are you lookin’ to do me a favor?” The Kirin were quiet, not interfering, and although Mugen seemed unsettled at the demands of a foreign mare, he rallied. “Of course I desire to do you a favor. Please accept our hospitality. Uni will understand immediately. We long to serve, and it will mean so much to her, to be able to directly be of aid! Most times, obviously, there is little she can do.” Applejack studied him. He seemed sincere, and no longer worried: it was her own outburst and rejection of his offer, before the Kirin, that had distressed him. “Hmm,” she said. “That’s nice an’ a bit confusin’ of you. What if I want to do you a favor in return? What kin I give ya?” She blinked, and added, “Possibly not a good Apple-fuckin’, no matter how nice you are, ‘cos we’re settin’ me up to go home and get bred by my own sweetheart!” Mugen’s eyes widened. “I see! Except that you are not a unicorn, or pegasus. But of course, now I am even more hospitable. And puzzled.” “Well, my sweetie’s a pegasus,” said Applejack. “Oh!” said Mugen. “Of course. Now it all makes…” He gawked at Applejack. “You don’t look like a stallion.” “Depends when ya look,” suggested Applejack. “An’ where!” Yosuru tsked, smirking delicately. “It is a long story, sir. Do you trust our ways?” “Always!” vowed Mugen. “Of course you can help this apparent mare to be bred by her pegasus stallion, who would be able to do that anyhow, or possibly it is the pegasus who’s a mare…” “Again, depends when ya look,” said Applejack, “and you’re changin’ the subject!” Mugen eeped. “What is the subject?” “What can I do for you, Mister Mugen? Ah insists,” said Applejack. “There’s gotta be something you’d like, an’ it’s only fair. Especially if we’re wakin’ up your unicorn ladyfriend and taking over your very own bedroom! Let me come up with somethin’ special to do for the both of ya.” Mugen boggled. “But the honor is ours. Really.” “Nope,” said Applejack decidedly. “Gotta give ya somethin’.” Mugen frowned, thinking hard. “Of course.” He glanced at Yosuru. “I must? She truly needs to give, not simply be gifted?” Yosuru nodded solemnly. “We do not argue with her. This mare has a sweet, sweet heart. It will make her happier. We sense this.” Mugen turned to Applejack, unhesitatingly. “I wish for nothing better. You shall give us a fine gift! Uhh… what do you even have? And who are you?” “Heh! You might have heard of me as the Drea…” began Applejack, and gulped, glancing at the Kirin. “Uh, the derned greatest Applejack that ever appled a jack! Heh. And I have sure as sh… ugar an’ sweet apples, sailed the seas from the mighty port of Canterlot to get here.” “I am a purveyor of rare and exquisite foods,” said Mugen, gesturing at the display cases that held countless unrecognizable things, including the big red sea bug. “What cargoes did you bring from that mighty port?” Applejack boggled. “Ya mean, food?” “Of course,” said Mugen. “You came here, to the crown of Neighpon’s culinary life, where the sea provides special food for unicorns to give life to our Kirin. What wondrous food did you bring from Canterlot for us?” Applejack blinked. “Uhhh, a big ol’ farm horse and a cellist and a unicorn and a lot of poundin’ loud music?” Mugen wrinkled his muzzle cutely. “Well, we can’t eat that! Anything else?” Applejack stood, transfixed, as an idea struck. “Dear… Celestia…” “If I’m not mistaken, that is your sort of Kirin, except there’s only one of her!” said Mugen. “We can’t eat her either, though we would be honored to have her as our guest…” “Be right back!” squeaked Applejack, and she was gone out the door, galloping like a madpony for her rented yacht. Mugen boggled politely at the Kirin for a moment, and then before he could say anything, Applejack was back, grinning and panting with exertion, a bag in her teeth which she laid on the floor so she could speak. “Now, I ain’t got the foggiest idea how this is gonna go, but did you say rare foods?” She deposited, on the counter, that very bag, and nudged it open with her nose… and revealed to Mugen’s fascinated gaze, her prize. Granny’s dreaded Apple Turnip Cakes. As Mugen studied the nearly-food, Applejack grinned brightly, and whispered to the Kirin, “If this don’t work, git ready to run!” “Run? What for?” said Kawa, but his remark was cut off. Mugen banged on the floor with a hoof. “UNI!” he cried. There was a stirring upstairs, and hooves hitting the floor. Applejack grinned wider. “Welp, that tore it!” she said, and began to sidle away, but Yosuru leaned over and tenderly snagged her ear in gentle Kirin teeth. “Hey!” protested Applejack. “Please do not presume!” ordered Yosuru, releasing her. “Whatever this stuff is, I think it may please Mugen!” “He is filled with much wonder,” added Kawa. “So were we,” admitted Applejack. “Never could get used to the derned things.” Uni appeared, a lovely earth pony mare who trotted up to her mate inquisitively. With a look, he redirected her inquisitiveness to the bizarre foodstuffs. Together, they nibbled on one of the apple turnip cakes, and both sets of eyes flew wide in shock. “Run,” suggested Applejack. “Sometimes it hits ya that way…” “Do not run,” urged Kawa. “Wait.” “Mugennokaijitsu!” exclaimed Uni. “Gesundheit?” offered Applejack. The two food purveyors turned to her as one, their faces wreathed in smiles. “It is wonderful! And strange! And what is it?” “Apple turnip cakes,” said Applejack, her ears still back in fretful nervousness. “How is it so sweet?” asked Uni. “And sour?” “Dang it,” protested Applejack, “I tole her not to use the sour apples but she said they needed eatin’ up…” “Umami,” observed Mugen thoughtfully. “No, my granny,” replied Applejack, “an’ she does her best, honest she do…” “No, you misunderstand,” said Mugen. “This food balances all types of flavor miraculously. It is sour, and sweet, and umami is the base of richness and earthy fullness…” “That there would be the turnips if I ain’t mistaken,” offered Applejack, brightening. “Ain’t much more earthy than a turnip.” “And the hint of bitterness. And salty!” exclaimed Mugen. Applejack winced. “Well, even Granny knows ya gotta bribe us to eat ‘em somehow…” “They are wonderful!” cried Mugen and Uni. “They are?” gawked Applejack. “Ah mean… they are! Yep! How many ya want in exchange for use of your room?” “ALL OF THEM,” proclaimed Mugen, trotting in glee. “How many do you have? Can you get more?” “Dang!” said Applejack. She hesitated. “What, for one room? Do you know where I can get some provisions for headin’ home, then?” Mugen waved a hoof to shush her. He frowned, thinking hard. He glanced at the Kirin, but not worriedly: more like he was determined to strike a handsome deal that was joyful for all concerned. He did math in his head. “Canterlot… you take bits?” “More than you could possibly imagine,” said Applejack. “I mean, yeah, that’s our coinage.” “How many Apple Turnip Cakes did you bring us?” “I reckon there’s sixty or seventy left. ‘Cos frankly, it seems like it’s a matter of taste,” admitted Applejack. Mugen looked earnestly in her eyes. “Your sixty or seventy Apple Turnip Cakes, all that remain… for the use of our bedroom, and also… ten thousand Canterlot bits.” Applejack’s jaw dropped nearly to the floor. Uni gasped. “You insult her! We will find more! We can get more, please, just let us have this…” As the Kirin giggled, Applejack broke into a huge grin. “Better’n Zap Apple Jam. Who knew? I can’t hardly believe it. You got a DEAL, ponies!” Mugen and Uni cheered, and they all hugged. Uni blinked. “Ten thousand Canterlot bits. For… exclusive?” “Ah beg your pardon?” said Applejack. Uni set her pretty little jaw, in determination. “For all the Apple Turnip Cakes, from Canterlot: that we have, exclusive? No other shops?” Applejack gave her a look. “You remind me of somepony. How about we let you hash it out with our lil’ business-pony? I ain’t the Boss Mare of Sweet Apple Acres. And the Boss Mare wouldn’t be any tougher’n me about these things prob’ly… but our deal-making’s done by a nice lil’ filly, name of Diamond Tiara. Will you negotiate with her, for your exclusive rights? ‘Cos I do know what that means, missy.” “Yes! I will get the exclusive, from Diamond Tiara, as you wish,” said Uni happily. “Kin I sell tickets?” asked Applejack. Mugen knew his mare, and could tell the direction things were turning. Beaming in delight, he shooed excited Uni out of the way, and she first ran back upstairs, then remembered and scooted out the door. “We have made a deal,” he smiled, “and please enjoy our bedroom. We will rejoin you in the morning.” “Where ya going?” blinked Applejack. “Do you have somewhere to go, Mister Mugen?” His eyes crinkled at the edges, in amusement. “I will join Uni. And she is already unloading your Apple Turnip Cakes. We should not intrude, so I will ask her to reload them on your ship… and we will guard it, and our new fortune of cakes, tonight.” “They are just joking,” soothed Yosuru. “Nopony will steal your things.” “Not if they have to get past Uni,” smiled Mugen. “That is clear. Thank you, Applejack. We will all prosper from your Granny’s Apple Turnip Cakes. Go and use our bedroom, and enjoy the services of our Kirin.” “Good, are they?” asked Applejack. Mugen’s smile grew faintly… wicked. “Can I sell tickets?” he playfully teased, and he turned to go. Scratch, Octavia and Big Macintosh sat under the cherry tree. “Ah’m sorry!” repeated Big Macintosh. “I promise to keep m’ eyes on the road from now on!” “Oh, calm down, Big Macintosh, we forgive you,” said Octavia. “Anyway it’s not really a road, more of a path. It’s lovely, but no wonder you couldn’t keep following it while watching us.” “My decks are packed a lot lower now,” added Vinyl Scratch, glumly. “They were fine. I’m not even mad. But sheesh, way to make a big deal out of it.” Octavia turned to confront her. “Scratchie! You said your Kirin ATE ponies! How can that be not a big deal?” Scratch, cheered, gave a half-smile and opened her mouth. “As FOOD,” added Octavia, “and not in the more delightful way, before you say anything!” Vinyl Scratch’s smile dropped. She looked out over the lovely Neighponnese countryside. “Would you believe both?” “I’m going to need a little more explanation than that,” said Octavia. She gave Scratch a little kiss. “Come on. What you say couldn’t be true, considering how much you love these Kirin. And I saw them, three of them by now, and I don’t believe a word of it. They cannot be pony-eaters, so what did you actually mean?” “Yeah, well, it’s real simple,” replied Vinyl. “They’re magical creatures, right? They feed the youngest Kirin with magic. Pass it between their horns.” “And?” said Octavia warily. Vinyl blushed very pink… and wordlessly tapped her horn with a hoof. Octavia’s and Big Macintosh’s eyes widened, as they got it. “Oh, my!” said Octavia. “You don’t mean they…” “YES!” blurted Scratch. She couldn’t meet their eyes. “Yes. Unicorns. Kirin. You got it. They… suck us off.” “Forgive me,” said Octavia, “but I’ve known other unicorns and I know a little about it. Do you mean they actually…” “Totally,” said Scratch. “I mean it. They’re not made like unicorns, they’re magical creatures. What would give another pony horrible burns and be really bad news? Kirin can handle it. They fucking go down on us, okay? They suck our horns so no magic gets loose, and they drink it right up, yum yum. ‘Piquant’. Kirin feed on fuckin’ magic okay? That’s just how they work.” “Is that bad?” asked Octavia warily. Vinyl shuddered. She didn’t answer for a moment. Octavia opened her mouth again, but then Vinyl spoke. “It’s wonderful…” She began to cry. “I didn’t think I’d ever tell anypony this. I thought I’d live in Ponyville and not have to think about it. It still hurts. I guess I can deal with it now…” “Miss Vinyl,” said Big Macintosh gently, “did a Kirin fella hurt you?” She looked up tearfully. “No,” said Vinyl Scratch. “I failed him.” They grew quiet, and let her talk. “You have to understand, it’s like a symbiosis… I think that’s the word? They care for us in a way that isn’t even ponylike: it’s greater. They’ll die for us. They serve us and keep us good… and then, just sometimes, one of the older Kirin will seek out a unicorn, and it’s payback time.” “And that doesn’t even do it justice,” said Scratch. “That makes it sound like a burden. Kirin can make you feel just incredible, nothing begins to compare. They can do crazy unbelievable things. The Kirin mares, I don’t know what it’s like but I heard stories, something about them is just irresistible.” Big Macintosh nodded solemnly, knowingly. “And I gotta tell you, the males… it’s not a burden, okay? It’s a joyful privilege. They’ll spend a lot of energy. Did I say they feed on fuckin’ magic? Don’t let it seem like Kirin can come along, grab you and sluuuurp! No, unicorns release magic in a certain sort of way. Ponyville, and most unicorns not in Neighpon, know it as horngasm. Unicorns arc, and get pregnant. Well, in Neighpon the Kirin let unicorns get pregnant with any earth ponies they like, they don’t have to do that with their horns together. It’s, like… a little bit uncool. Greedy? Selfish?” Octavia looked worried. “But, Scratchie, we know about pony breeding. Pegasi and unicorns do spontaneously emerge from earth ponies. But…” “Yeah,” said Scratch, “yeah. Breeding with earth ponies, you mostly get earth ponies. And LOVE, dammit! And love, and families, and… you know, I get how a lot of unicorns and pegasi stick with others like them, so they can breed true. I get that. And is it more important than fucking love and families and… I don’t know, Tavi. I wonder.” They sat quietly for a moment, thinking. “But yeah,” continued Scratch, “we get a lot of earth ponies in Neighpon. It’s good for earth ponies in Neighpon. There’s not as many unicorns, pegasi. We’re kind of special when we happen. We come from earth pony stock almost all of the time. It’s not a rule, not really a rule, but… did you know unicorns tried to rule Neighpon once? Our pegasi can be fuckin’ terrifying. Kirin made some choices about all that. Kirin tied us to all ponykind and now it’s mostly earth ponies here, and when we unicorns, when pegasi turn up, it’s exceptional and we’re celebrated but we got responsibilities.” “We’re listening,” said Octavia, and Big Macintosh nodded. She continued, “Tell us all you can, Scratchie. We should know this, we’re guests.” “Yeah, well, you’re earth pony guests,” retorted Scratch. “You’re the best of ponykind and you’re what we take care of, and the Kirin are there for you. Pegasi are kinda like Kirin wingponies, heh, what they have is flight and fierceness so they happily join and train with the Kirin. There’s like no chance of any bad monsters hurting our earth ponies, or anything invading us, because our pegasi are freakin’ insane, they are the most utter badasses. Out of love, I mean. They take the Kirin thing super seriously, meditate and shit, they’re warriors but they’re warriors of love, their sense of duty is amazing…” “You’re not a pegasus, Scratchie dear,” said Octavia. “You’re a unicorn. What does that mean to you?” Scratch started to cry again, and Octavia didn’t rush her. “We power it all,” said Vinyl Scratch forlornly. “We get special diets, like the fishes, and we build up magic and we go around, meditating, trying to be beautiful, hoping to be picked. When we fuck earth ponies we try not to get so worked up we squirt. That’s for the Kirin, and it’s important. It’s our duty… just like with the pegasi. We’re little magic batteries and on our horns all of Neighpon rests. And then, every so often, we’re chosen. And a Kirin will come to us, and we’ll go with them. We’ll go, knowing it’s gonna be like the high point of our lives…” “You’re crying,” said Octavia. “I’m not done, okay? This is so hard. Just give me a minute. I’m glad it’s you, Tavi. And you I guess, Big Macintosh. I mean, you’re cool and all, this is fine…” “We’re here for you, Scratchie dear.” “Eyup.” Vinyl sniffled, and resumed her tale. “What you have to understand is the Kirin are not selfish. They’ll spend a lot of energy on us. They use their magic and they seriously make love to their little unicorns, they get right into it. They love us, in their way, okay? But what has to happen is this: their unicorn’s like losing her mind with fuck, in a frenzy… or his, y’know… and they just take us all the way and the unicorn goes BLOOEY and lets loose with a horngasm the likes of which you never seen, and the Kirin’s suckin’ them like crazy, and gulp gulp gulp! The unicorn is fuckin’ wiped OUT, and the Kirin’s all charged up. He put a lot of effort into it, but he’s more than rewarded. It’s good for him to be an astonishing lay, because that’s how he gets magic to take care of all of Neighpon, and he belongs to all of Neighpon. He’s got responsibilities too.” Big Macintosh looked troubled, but said nothing. Octavia bit her lip. “Scratchie? That’s not what hurts. It’s strange, but I understand it. What hurts?” Scratchie’s lip quivered terribly. “I… ran out!” Sobbing, she went into Octavia’s forelegs, to be cuddled. Vinyl was blushing in her shame, physically shaking with long-repressed guilt. “There, there…” And then, Scratch was pushing away, dripping tears, miserable and furious. “And he did that!” “What?” wailed Octavia. “What? Tell us, then, if you won’t let me hold you! Tell the rest, dear Scratchie!” “I will let you,” vowed Scratch, “but I GOTTA tell everything! Gimme space, let me do this, I can do this… don’t care if I cry, I GOT to get this out now. Tavi, he picked me! I never got picked by a Kirin before, and I was so excited! He was beautiful. And so kind… but oh my GAWWWD sexy as fuck, you know? Wow…” “Go on,” said Octavia. “We are here for you, and you’ll feel better, go on.” “I am. Okay… well, obviously we fucked, right? This guy, this Kirin stallion, he was pretty well hung. He did that thing with the magic and oh my gosh, and he’s just making love so tender and slow but I’m feelin’ the passion and holy flying fuck on a stick, nothing will ever compare, okay? I’m gettin’ REAL used to it. I know I’m not supposed to attach but he’s makin’ it real hard, probably doesn’t even know it but it’s my first Kirin and I’m losing my pony mind…” Big Macintosh couldn’t meet her eyes, or Octavia’s. Vinyl continued. “He didn’t even go for my horn for the longest time. He kissed it. I couldn’t believe it. So romantic… and then he’s fuckin’ me so slow and deep, his power increasing when I’m ready for it, and I feel like my brain’s leaking out my ears and I’m shivering all over and THAT is when I feel his muzzle slowly going down on my horn, just in time. And he’s got my horn like all in his mouth, all of it, and I can feel this sort of teasing, sexy sucking like in my BRAIN, and he’s so fuckin’ ready for me and he just keeps building and building and building as I wriggle and squeak…” “Easy, Scratchie,” said Octavia warningly. “You might be… making some of us uncomfortable?” Big Macintosh grunted, and rolled over, for his stallionhood had begun to show. “Don’t mind me. I’m sorry.” “Doesn’t matter, don’t care,” said Vinyl Scratch. “Anyway we don’t fuck roadies, it’s bad for touring. We can get to our first gig and you can pick up a mare, Big Macintosh, they’ll love you. Sorry if this gives you a woody. I gotta tell it, okay?” “Eyup. I… don’t wanna clop. Not like this.” “I’ll be quick,” said Vinyl. “You see, that was the good part. The problem was, next came the sad part.” “We’re here for you,” said Octavia. Scratch gulped. “Not much to tell. I came, okay? And I let loose with my horn. And… Tavi, you know I don’t do much with magic? That I carry both decks with my horn? Um… turntables are not very heavy. I came, Tavi, and I gave him all I had. And… it was, like, nothin’.” “Oh, Scratchie…” “The worst part was, he tried so hard. It was like he was starving or something, though I don’t think he could really have been starving. He had plenty of energy to spend on me. It felt like he was trying to suck my brains out through my horn. That feels amazing, by the way, since you can’t know. He was doing that magic thing, and he’s pumpin’ me, and it’s like he’s so unfulfilled by how little I gave that he just tried to DRAG it out of me and oh my GAWWWD. He’s draining my horn dry, my body is like convulsing for minutes on end, he’s just shredding the fuck out of me, trying to get fed. And I can’t fuckin’ do it. I don’t have the magic for him.” “Finally, he gives up. He’s panting, sweating, he looks like hell. I’m lying across him and I can’t move. I’m physically and magically drained beyond anything I could imagine, and I’m looking into his eyes and I just surrender, I want to be his forever, let him just drain me the fuck out forever. There’s nothing else in life but this. And I can see he spent so much more than he gave, and he’s trying to figure out what to do. He had no idea he’d picked a fuckin’ dud unicorn, okay?” “And that’s when he starts talking. I’m too burnt out even to cry, but it’s the worst thing ever. He’s thanking me, okay? I used up his energies and gave nothing in return, but he’s thanking me. He says it was wonderful. That my unicorn pussy is so clenchy and strong and healthy. And he’s racking his brain trying to make it seem okay, and that’s when he explains that, that my magic was especially sweet even though there was so little of it…” “Oh, Scratchie,” murmured Octavia. “I look at him in disbelief. We’re not supposed to be a, a… fuckin’ after-dinner mint! We are supposed to be able to feed our Kirin! We’re the only ones who can do it, the pegasi can’t do it, the earth ponies can’t do it. They need us! And there I am… and he’s trying to make me feel better by telling me my inadequate magic tasted good! Piquant, he says. And there’s this apologetic look in his eyes, like he knows, and he knows I know, and he knows I know he knows…” Octavia sighed. “Your hug is waiting, my love. You ought to have one, after this.” “Yeah,” said Scratch in a little voice. She shook herself. “That was it. He left, Tavi. That’s what they do. I was supposed to be able to see him gallop off on a rainbow, all charged up and looking indestructible, and be proud of myself for being part of something much bigger than me. Not! I was more ashamed than I’ve ever been, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He couldn’t even make mists, he headed off on hoof, Tavi. I’d used him right up and given nothing back, he had to go find another Kirin and get a boost…” “The same way?” asked Big Macintosh. Scratch shook her head. “They send beams of magic. The young ones, that’s all they know. I think maybe Hina was a young Kirin. They can feed each other, but it’s like foals sucking on tits, it’s not what grown-ups do.” As Big Macintosh frowned to himself, Octavia demurely remarked, “Tell that to my Stout Heart. On second thought, don’t, please. We enjoy it far too much.” Scratch giggled in spite of herself. “Tavi! Naughty.” “Loving,” corrected Octavia. “Scratchie! Listen. So are you.” “Aw, Tavi…” “No, I mean it,” said Octavia. “Listen to yourself. I can’t do magic at all, but you still love me. Well, you were with a Kirin, long ago when you lived here, and you had sex with him and did the whole Kirin-feeding thing…” “But…” “Sh! And, Scratchie, you are a loving mare. The best. And you gave him everything you possibly could, your heart, your love, your magic until there was no more and I can picture you straining and trying to give even a little bit more, for him. You have nothing to be ashamed of, dear sweet Scratchie.” “But…” protested Vinyl, her lip quivering. “And he loved you, too, so much that he tried to make it better for you. And he was right to love you, because you are a sweet loving mare and deserve love.” Vinyl Scratch was quiet, just gazing at her dear friend. Then… “Hug now,” she said. “K?” And then Octavia was hugging her tightly, as Scratchie laughed and cried and hugged back like a madmare. “Thank you, oh thank you Tavi I love you so much…” “See?” quipped Octavia. “I told you.” Scratch broke away, wiping her eyes. “And you know what? That’s how I got into the exercises. Like, he told me my pussy was amazing and so tight and sexy and grabby, and I was like oh yeah? I’ll make it ten times as good. So I got that Kegel thingy and really got into practicing, and now I’ve got a lot to give! Um, that way.” “You do have a lot to give,” urged Octavia. “I’ve always known this.” “What about me?” asked Big Macintosh. Scratch glanced wryly at him. “You have a lot to give some groupie mare at our next town! You do all right, just don’t run into any more trees!” “Eyup,” said Big Macintosh, determinedly. The room was exquisite. The bed was curiously firm, and on the floor for some reason. The mood was electric. The Kirin was erect. Applejack looked him over, her tail flicking eagerly. “Kawa,” she said, “that there’s a fine specimen of stallionhood. Mind you, me an’ Dashie, we both kin do bigger but I’ll tell ya, I’m lookin’ forward to this. Two words. Comfort Zone.” Yosuru smiled. “Do you seek girthy males, then? Do not resign yourself to disappointment just yet.” “Naw, I mean it!” protested Applejack. “You think I’m lyin’? I meant it as a compliment! And it’s more girthy mares I seek. Well, one of ‘em.” She shifted from hoof to hoof. “You can really do it? I’ll be Dashie’s mare?” “Yes,” confirmed Kawa, his chin high. “Hoo-ee!” said Applejack. She gulped. “Well, here goes nothin’! Or maybe, here goes everythin’!” “What?” said Kawa politely. Applejack gave him a look. “You like th’ direct approach, huh? Fine. Gimme that hot Kirin dickin’.” Kawa lifted an eyebrow. His cock stiffened, as he looked Applejack over. “Hot?” “Aw, crap!” squeaked Applejack. “Okay nevermind! I won’t be too saucy. I’ll be good. Uh… c’mere and fuck me and make me a fertile mare!” “I would be delighted to,” said Kawa. Yosuru lay down, smiling, to serenely watch. Kawa walked unhurriedly over, and petted Applejack’s rump. He was rewarded with a wink, and a ‘Woohoo!’, and finding these signs sufficient, Kawa reared decorously and mounted. Applejack shook her mane ebulliently. It seemed like a strange way to do magic things, but she suspected she might get to like it in a hurry. Hastily, she corrected that to, ‘she liked it, in a hurry’, as Kawa’s courtly Kirin cock nuzzled her winking labia. She drew in a breath to let out another ‘woohoo!’, but found herself speechless. Not by a fierce intrusion or unexpected bulk, no… Kawa remained the same manageable dimensions she’d seen. It was texture. He seemed to fizz. There was an electrifying sensation she knew well, as one felt the bare flesh of one’s lover sliding skin on skin, sinking deep in passion. With the Kirin, this was unaccountably magnified. It boded amazing things, made unthinkable promises. Kawa slid inside her, stretching her cozily and giving her something to squeeze upon, but in doing it, her vagina was filled with fizz and life and energy. “Oh my…” breathed Applejack. “Do you wish orgasms, or to proceed more quickly?” The voice behind her ear was perfectly in control. There was something mysteriously sexy about that dispassionate tone. She drew a breath. “I tole you. Ain’t right to do this an’ not enjoy it. Let’s fuck, honey!” “That would be my great pleasure,” replied Kawa, cool as a cucumber. His dick wasn’t cool like a cucumber. It was about as demanding as a cucumber, penetration-wise, though it sank deeper into her… but it was warm and cozy, always with that mysterious tingling feeling. Applejack sighed with pleasure as Kawa began to languidly move, sliding in and out of her in an unhurried way. “Oooooh…” she moaned. “That’s nice, that’s so nice.” “So are you,” crooned Kawa, unperturbably. “Thankee,” purred Applejack, setting her legs a little farther apart. “Mmmm.” “This feels good?” he asked. “OHyeah,” moaned Applejack. “That’s nice.” “You wish many hours of it?” asked Kawa. “Huh? Aw, honey!” said Applejack. She tensed her pussy, to give him an affectionate squeeze. “I don’t need nothin’ like that! You kin start your Kirin work any time you like, I ain’t picky. You know I appreciate you doin’ me nice like this, but you don’t gotta go all night for me.” “As you wish,” said Kawa. “Well, I,” began Applejack, and then her eyes flew wide. “Oh MY!” Kawa’s cock had slid deeply up into her, without strain, but it hadn’t been that comfortable move that goaded her to cry out. It was the way his fizzing sensation suddenly doubled, tripled. It felt like something dramatic was going to happen inside her, though she couldn’t guess what. Applejack didn’t have to guess for long. A trickle of catalyzed, carefully managed magic began to emerge from Kawa’s stiffened cock. It dribbled across her secret flesh, and everywhere it touched, her nerves stood straight up and went ‘WOOHOO!’. “Oh… MY…” panted Applejack, feeling her vagina catch glowing, scintillating, heatless fire from the inside. The trickle became a surge. Then, a flood. It felt like taking a big stallion-load, the same gushing swelling sensation, but like a stallion-load composed of light and kitten moonbeams. “Oh my! Oh MY!” It filled Applejack up from womb to her lover’s flare, right to where it threatened to inflate her like a balloon, and left off right at that breath-taking point. She glanced back, frantically trying to see if her ass was luminous, what with being inflated by stardust or something. “Oh MY! Kawa!” moaned Applejack, trembling all over. Kawa gave a little frown of concentration, his horn lit up brightly… and he began to deliver tender little shoves with his hips, as if the mixture needed agitation in order to develop its results. Applejack stood that for about three seconds. “Sweet… apple… BUTTERRRR!” she squealed, and then there was no more coherent talking: Applejack shook all over, clenching frantically on Kawa’s deeply buried cock, barely maintaining her footing on the curious bed as she came her pretty tail off. From beside the bed, Yosuru’s horn lit as she tactfully steadied the shuddering earth pony: Kawa continued to concentrate, frowning slightly with effort, his hips tenderly churning the field of complicated force he wielded. As he concentrated, his hips were seen to steadily press harder and harder, never aggressively, but with obvious purpose. And, inside Applejack’s pony vagina, that flood of dexterous magic formed into Kirin intention and sought out pony ovums, and in its frictionless, viscosity-less way, slipped deeper and deeper into Applejack’s private parts. Into womb, filling it and coating every surface. Pressuring, nudging, pushing… all the way, until the palpable gush of magic that Kawa so insistently nudged, had penetrated all her tubes and secretest places. “AWFUCK! AHHH! GHHH!” As Applejack’s orgasms peaked, as her clenches and heaves hit their wildest rodeo capers, the convulsions of her pleasure-racked body compressed Kawa’s flood of living magic… and the slippery little tingle squirted through her fallopian tubes to reach pony ovums, and Kawa made his move. His horn flared blindingly as Applejack squealed, and patterns and calculations rushed through his mind. His magic seethed, nearly knocking her out with the sudden sensation of energy coursing through the weightless substance that filled her every crevice. “RRRRGGGHHBLLGGGHHHGGGBBBGHH! GUHHH! AHHH!” Yosuru’s magic shot forth, bearing a tissue. It wiped Applejack’s nose. Another wiped her brow. The blinding, coruscating radiance filled the room, as Yosuru watched carefully. Kawa’s horn at last subsided, and his head dropped. Inside Applejack, the pressure of living magic abruptly lessened. The mad tingle subsided, became manageable. Then, the magic itself began to withdraw, first from the sensitive private places that hadn’t experienced such treatment before (as horse-come was far more viscous), and then from her quivering womb and exhausted vagina. Kawa dismounted… and gasped. “Oh, NO!” Applejack shuddered, her nose bleeding, stunned like she’d been bucked in the head, clearly ready to faint. “Yosuru! Did I hurt her? I was focussing so hard!” Yosuru, supporting Applejack with her magic, frowned at Kawa. “Calm yourself! Do you know nothing of mares? Talk to her.” He trotted around to face Applejack, his mane and fetlocks shimmering with fretful magic. “Are you well? Speak to me!” Applejack’s dazed eyes slowly focussed on the vision of a fretful boy Kirin, prancing with dismay. “I hurt you!” he cried. In response, the obliterated mare in question shook her head, tossed her mane, gathered herself for a huge effort… …and grabbed his face in her forehooves, delivering a huge, earnest smooch right on his shocked muzzle. “That's how WE do it down on th’ farm!” announced Applejack triumphantly, and promptly fainted. Kawa stood there, astonished. “Kawa?” said Yosuru. Applejack started loudly snoring, a huge grin on her face. “Yes, Yosuru?” managed Kawa. “Come to bed.” Marvelling at the tenacity and spirit of the Ponyville heroic earth pony, Kawa carefully snuggled himself around Applejack’s snoring body, his mission accomplished. Truly, the natural world was filled with boundless wonders.
Stay On TargetKichona scuffed at the grass with a hoof. “Come out of there, right now!” “Nooo!” came the reply. “What ever is the matter?” she begged. “We’re so close! Close to the mountains. And beyond them is Chowa, and that’s the capital!” Kichona fretted. “But… but we’re trying to go there! All the ponies said the wonderful musicians were heading for Chowa to perform, we want to see them play! What’s got into you?” “There will be Kirin, the most powerful Kirin!” wailed the overgrown, trembling shrub. “I’m sure I saw one racing across the skies!” Kichona’s lip quivered. She addressed the bush before her. “But YOU are a Kirin!” Daitana’s head poked miserably out of the bush. His lip quivered too, and his wonderful Kirin horn glimmered weakly, barely any glow left in it at all. “Not much of one,” he sniffled. “They’ll destroy me! I have failed in my duty, I am no Kirin at all…” Kichona’s eyes glistened. “Please, please come out of there. You’re not well. We must find help for you…” “Find me more of those lichens!” begged Daitana. “I’m sure there’s magic in them. I just know it’ll be all right if only we can find more of those glowing lichens and moss.” Kichona hesitated. “I will if you come out. And let me hug you,” she said. Daitana did. Days of living off the land had not helped his stamina. He wobbled, and the lichens hadn’t been much help. They did have magic, in a sense, but they also had many other curious effects and the hapless Kirin had raved ecstatically for five minutes and then thrown up. Worse, he’d thrown up magic as well as the bellyful of lichens, and it’d left him more starved than when he started. And Kichona was beginning to realize that a starving Daitana was even more wilful and unhinged than a half-starved Daitana. His gaze at her was seething with Kirin passion and desperate need, but it terrified her that he’d grown so passionate, because his strength was giving out and he’d become even more stubborn about not feeding from unicorns that weren’t his beloved. And then the paranoia set in… He cried, as she hugged him. She cried, as she felt his emaciation, his trembling. This wasn’t how love should go. “We’ll get there,” vowed Daitana. “We’ll hear the music. For you. Even if they destroy me.” “You’re not well,” repeated Kichona. His eyes were wild, fevered. “If I expire it shall be listening to the music we seek…” “Oh, poop on the music!” cried Kichona, tearfully. “Daitana, my love! Don’t you see…” “What was that?!?” gasped Daitana. “Was it a Kirin?” Her ears laid back, Kichona scanned the skies. “I don’t think so. I think it may have been a Weird Monster flying by! I’ve never seen one. If it was a Kirin, I would beg them for help. Perhaps it was. Help, help!” “Shh, quiet!” insisted Daitana. “What was that? In the bushes, no more than two hundred yards away!” “I didn’t hear anything,” said Kichona, more quietly. “Oh, Daitana!” “I thought I heard something. We must continue. We’ll have to go around the mountains, they’re impassable.” “If you were feeling better,” said Kichona, “you could go over them. You could do anything.” “Only our most enlightened Kirin, Daiyam, climbs to the top of those mountains,” said Daitana. “Kirin don’t do foolish things like that, even Daiyam goes there only to meditate in perfect solitude. Kirin can’t, especially not me.” “Why not?” asked Kichona, her lip quivering. “Because I am no Kirin,” said Daitana, his voice regaining the lilting cadances of Kirin formality for just a moment. “Kirin care for all ponies. That is their duty. I am lost. I love just one mare. My magic is gone. Indeed I don’t deserve it. I weaken. But before I expire, we will hear music!” He lay his head against Kichona’s neck, and she stared tragically into space, stroking his mane, so silky and soft but so quiet in the absence of its animating magic. She nodded. “Rest, my love. We’ll hear your music.” “YOUR music,” corrected Daitana, with an exhausted sigh. “My music,” agreed Kichona sadly. As she stared into space, her jaw set in determination, and her gaze grew angry and fierce. Perhaps, she thought, her beloved Kirin really was ceasing to be a Kirin. Perhaps he was right, that he would be in dreadful trouble if he was caught with her, so obsessed, so weak and debilitated. Perhaps she was bad for him. It was hard to think otherwise, as she watched him sicken and grow stranger by the day. But she would still pretend to seek that wonderful music, heard but once at a distance, and pursued ever after, across half of Neighpon. And it probably would lead them around the impassable mountains, and to the capital city of Chowa, where the musicians would perform for all the most enlightened Kirin. And then she’d get them to fix poor mad Daitana, even if it made him forget about her and resume life as a normal Kirin! “I love you,” breathed Daitana, and he went to sleep snuggling up against her, in the warm embrace of her comforting forelegs. Kichona gazed up at the mountains they’d be journeying around. Impassable, unattainable. Not fit for mortal pony. Beautiful and too big for one poor mare to reach, much less own. Much like… the love of a mad Kirin, one who sickened and grew pale and wan from the intensity of his infatuation. Kichona’s fierce glare softened. The beauty of the mountains felt very big, and she felt very small. “I think I will have to love you more,” she said, so quietly that Daitana could not hear. Two hundred yards away, Braeburn’s eyes were gleaming slits as he reconnoitered, ears pricked for any sound, his face camouflaged with two different colors of mud and his mane festooned with fresh leaves. He’d heard a mare call out ‘Help, help!’ but it hadn’t continued… and he was in no position to help anypony. He was sneaking his way across Neighpon to the capital city, because he’d heard the musicians were expected to perform there. If so, he would find Big Macintosh there… Princess, to him. And then? Braeburn’s eyes swam with tears. And then he would get one last kiss, perhaps, or he would beg, or… he wasn’t sure. He longed for Princess, but after days of skulking across the land, he longed for a simple pony hug, from just about anypony. He didn’t dare try and find one. All ponies were against him in this strange and beautiful place. They seemed so happy, but he’d become a terrifying spectacle, haunted and driven. Worse, he had become a violent and cruel horse: he still thought constantly of that poor swishy pegasus he’d clobbered. He hoped the poor little guy was okay, but there was no way to find out. Perhaps Moeru, so passionate and lusty, was dead because of his terrible fit of… what had he done? It wasn’t even temper, not really. He’d been about to mount the poor boy, staring at that brick-red bottom, and Moeru had crooned ‘love me’… and he’d flipped out. It hadn’t been Moeru’s fault that he was not Princess. It had been his fault, that he’d stopped being Braeburn for a terrible moment. And now he seemed condemned to be Braeburn again, Braeburn in the fullest extent of the word, a wild cowpony using all the talents of the long trail to evade capture by the posse. But there was no joy in it, because there was nowhere to flee to. Princess didn’t want him, and all the ponies in this land stood to betray him. He couldn’t trust even one of them, and he had to find his love and see Princess again while hiding in bushes literally all of the time. He’d never been such an outlaw, and the outlaw existence had never seemed so worthless in all his life. His crimes weren’t a matter of inflaming mare-ly passions, this time. He’d been goaded by passion into striking down an innoc… well, no, there weren’t nothin’ so innocent about that colt and his hunger for stallion cock, and if he was to be believed (and his tackle-capture of Braeburn had been impressive) he was a mighty capable boy. But on another level, how innocent he was, just wanting to take a prisoner and cheer that prisoner up with eager pegasus butthole embraces. Braeburn wiped a tear. He ought to have at least waited until the poor colt blew a massive load, and THEN clobbered h… no, that was ridiculous. Shouldn’ta left home, he thought. Not once ya got a home. Shouldn’ta kicked the place down and run off to Neighpon. It was too late now: he couldn’t possibly go back, he’d be caught for sure. Them pegasi were no joke. He didn’t dare get caught by one again. Or unicorns, or earth ponies even if they seemed sweet as anything… especially not the Kirin. He had to go forward, or he was lost. Somewhere around the mountains was the capital city. He’d been lucky enough to hear some conversations from ponies discussing where the musicians meant to go next, otherwise he’d be truly lost. Ha! He’d never stop bein’ lost. There was nothin’ left for him… but he had to see Princess again. There was no plan, there was no hope, not when Princess turned away and wouldn’t meet his eye… but all the same, he had to. Just had to. Braeburn faded away into the underbrush and foliage, and then nothing could see him at all. The delicate rustling of foliage resumed as the Sneaking Spy began to travel around the mountains, toward Chowa, though he did not know the way. “Big Macintosh! The speaker is crooked!” accused Octavia. “Settle down, Tavi!” snapped Vinyl Scratch. “He’ll fix it. Won’t you, Big Macintosh?” “Eyup,” reassured Big Macintosh, his ears laid back… because the speaker looked perfect to him, yet Octavia glared fretfully as if he’d left it pointing backwards. “Well, go on!” said the DJ unicorn. “Uhhh… remind me again, how ya wanted it?” “Arrgh!” cried Octavia, and jumped down from the little stage they’d been given. As they approached Chowa, the audiences became more numerous, the venues more impressive… and the musicians, more stressed and frantic. DJ Pon-3 gawked at her fellow performer. “Hey hey whoa WAIT STOP!” she whinnied. Octavia wrenched the speaker to the left, her teeth gritted, soft mare muscle bulging and straining… and then, Scratch was pulling her away, shades askew, a look of horror in her eyes. “You’re on in TEN MINUTES,” she insisted, “what are you DOING?” Octavia glowered, rubbing her foreleg. “Fixing the speakers.” “Look at you! You’re wincing! That is your bowing foreleg, Octavia!” “Well, if he didn’t aim it all wrong, probably on purpose to see if I was paying attention…” Big Macintosh gasped. “Nuh-uh! Ah never! Why would Ah do such a thing, Miss Octavia?” She was trembling, and glared at him again. “Oh, I’ve seen the look in your eyes. You don’t believe angles of a few degrees matter for the sound dispersal, and you get cross with me when I correct you more than five times, and you’re testing me, aren’t you?” “EeNOPE!” “Enough!” whinnied Vinyl Scratch. “Stop it, both of you! Octavia, go and rest your foreleg, you’re performing almost right away. Big Macintosh, you gotta trust us, we really do know what we’re doing with this music stuff…” “He has to keep up,” muttered Octavia. “He’s got to. He can’t be the weak link.” “Oh my GAWWD Tavi, seriously? Him, weak? Fucking look at him, okay? Let him do his job,” said Scratch. “I mean it. Believe that I mean every word I say right now.” Octavia’s lip quivered. “So do I.” Scratch gave her a hard stare. “Yeah, I noticed. You’ve been getting harsher and harsher with the poor big lunk, and I want to know why.” Octavia wouldn’t look directly at her old friend… and then, suddenly, she did. “Because Michian was as good as his word. It cost you a lot to lay him, and you did, and he set things up so we’re going straight to Chowa to play for the most important ponies and Kirin in all Neighpon. And I’m not going to let anything fuck that up for you, Scratchie. This is for you.” Vinyl Scratch stared back, her shades askew, her eyes wide. “B… but, first of all you promised you weren’t gonna talk about him again especially right before a gig, what the fuck is WRONG with you Tavi, and second of all he never gave me any word about anything…” “It’s obvious,” said Octavia, a little more gently. “Look at us. Just this one more gig, and then we have to rush around this mountain range so we can reach Chowa. They’re all expecting us. Why would they even care, otherwise? He came through, Scratchie. You won. Now we have to follow through. Now we have to do it.” Vinyl gulped, trying to compose herself. “Don’t we?” said Octavia, gentler still. “Tavi.” “Yes, dear Scratchie?” “You are on in seven minutes. Get ready.” Octavia’s eyes flashed with courageous determination. She gave DJ Pon-3 a salute, then jumped back on stage, preparing for her duties as opening act. “We’ll be good,” promised Big Macintosh. “I kin stand her running around like she got a cooter full of bees.” Vinyl gulped again. “Yeah. Do that. I’ll talk to her. Maybe that’s her problem, I can’t imagine why she’s not blowing off steam with locals. I could use some of that, but I gotta think of something to add to the show for Chowa, put it over the top. We don’t have anything, we’ve just got us. And you, I mean, we’ve got you as well.” “Do ya want a nice lil’ pony hug, ma’am?” “No!” snapped Vinyl. “Not right now! I gotta focus. I mean, sorry, I really do have to focus. I think you’re done for the day, just be there in the morning because we’ve got to start good and early for the trip around the mountains.” “Yes, ma’am!” replied Big Macintosh, looking dismayed. His DJ boss looked really fried, but even as he watched he saw her pulling it together, raising her chin, straightening her rose-colored trademark shades: putting on the armor of DJ Pon-3, because she was on after Octavia finished, and she wasn’t about to blow it. When Octavia faced the crowd, cello in hoof, and greeted them with a toss of her mane and a flourish of her bow… the roar that went up seemed as large as all their previous gigs rolled together. She hadn’t played a note. It was in anticipation of what was about to transpire. It really did seem like Michian had put the word out: this tour was not to be missed. Vinyl Scratch flinched at the ravenous cheering, and her eyes were bleak and scared behind the shades as the applause cut off instantly with a gesture from Octavia. The first notes oozed out of the meticulously positioned speakers: the speakers that would first caress the crowd with cello, and then thump, rock and hump them with heavy beats and bass drops when it was the turn of DJ Pon-3 to live up to the hype. The crowd listened, rapt, as the evening started. DJ Pon-3 took a deep breath, as Big Macintosh quietly skulked off to watch the crowd from the side of the stage. He was scanning the crowd, trying to work out what his chances were of getting in some unicorn practice without too much crazy, when… There! Suddenly, he was standing straight and tall, staring like a madpony at a gap in the crowd. There’d been a glimpse of something that jolted him to the core. Suddenly, he was trotting through hordes of awed ponies, even as they danced to DJ Pon-3’s big climatic finale. He didn’t even know what he was doing, he butted ponies aside with his massive chest, looking this way and that… There it was again! He hadn’t been imagining it! But… not… It was a lovely sandy-colored rump, sure. And a fine, ruddy-blonde tail, with a hint of cowpony raggedyness, no mistaking that. And, yes, he saw a cutie mark and it was a big red juicy apple. But the green eyes that looked back at him… and even that detail matched! But it wasn’t him. He was looking at a Neighponnese mare. An earth pony. Looking? He was staring at her like she was the answer to all his dreams. And why was he doing that, when she wasn’t Hina and wasn’t even Braeburn, wonderful Braeburn who’d taught him so much? The unicorns tended to be little. Neighponnese ponies in general tended to be little. This mare wasn’t so little as all that. Her size wasn’t so far off the size of Braeburn, or a typical Ponyville pony. She blinked at him, undaunted. “Well, look at you!” she cried, over the thunder of the music. “Have we met?” “Who are yuh?” gasped Big Macintosh. She batted her eyelashes, and smiled. “I’m Fuji,” she said, and the last beat dropped. The concert was over, still reverberating out of the hills as ponies all around them cheered and hugged. Big Macintosh gawked. He realized his mouth was hanging open. That wasn’t all that was hanging. Mares all around, and at least five of the stallions, were gawking at the rest of him. Fuji didn’t gawk, she just smiled. “Did you come over here just to look at me?” she said, playfully. “I wouldn’t mind. For once I’m not the big pony. I enjoy looking at you, too.” “I have a better idea!” squeaked a little violet mare, trotting up. “Back off, Atsui!” squealed the sandy-colored, russet-maned, Braeburn-alike. “It’s not fair! Anyway, you’d have to go see the Kirin after, so there!” “You’d have to see the Kirin,” accused Atsui, “because nopony will lay you and you’re probably fertile!” Fuji stuck out her lower lip. “I saw the Kirin already. I had a feeling I might get lucky. And I meant, go and get your vagina repaired afterward, foolish mare!” “Yay!” squeed Atsui, predictably, with a cute poing into the air. “No, I mean it!” urged Fuji. She gave the smaller, more delicate mare a hug. “Be good. At least let me have my chance? It’s been such a long time, even to try it.” “Well, if you groomed your mane nicely…” retorted Atsui, hugging her friend back. “No!” Both turned, startled, to look at Big Macintosh. The objection had been his. “Ah mean… I like it,” he said. He began to blush. Fuji began to blush, and grin. Atsui snickered, and whacked the larger mare on the withers with a hoof. “See what else he likes! That’s fair. See ya!” She trotted off quite happily, and Big Macintosh stared blushingly at this curiously large, bulky, tousled mare. She had to look away, finally. “I don’t, you know. Groom my mane, I mean. All the girls tell me I should. There doesn’t seem to be a point, and there’s always so much work to be done…” He gulped, unable to stop staring. “Reminds me of somepony, that’s all.” Her eyes flew wide. “All? Oh, no! Darn it, I thought… fine, if that’s how it must be. I hope it’s a good somepony?” Then she glanced under him, and hit him with an eyes-narrowed gaze. “You’ve not even told me who you are, and I hope that’s not all. Your dangura says it’s more than just reminding you of somepony.” “Oh! Ah’m sorry, ma’am, where are my manners? I’m Big Macintosh.” “Appropriate,” purred Fuji. “I’m pleased to meet you. You’re staring at my flank, and I’m used to that speaking only of my livelihood, not of pleasure.” She bit her lower lip, cutely, her ears laid slightly back in trepidation. “Do you… like it?” “Livelihood?” asked Big Macintosh. “I’m a farmer pony,” said Fuji. “I grow a special kind of apple.” Big Macintosh’s eyes widened. “Dang. Guess it’s a good thing you ain’t got three apples on your butt or it’d be a whole other kinda creepy…” “It’s not creepy!” exclaimed Fuji, stamping a hind hoof. The taut supple jounce of her muscular rump brought Big Macintosh’s dangling stallionhood up to slap against his belly. That, plus she’d been flicking her tail about excitedly, and it flew like a russet flag in the gentle evening breeze. “They’re the best apples, you’d better not have a problem with farmers or I’ll…” “No, no!” exclaimed Big Macintosh. Fuji quieted, staring at his cock, her ears perked forward in great interest. He continued, “Ah’m a farmer myself! What’s more, an apple farmer!” Fuji licked her lips. “Oooh. Well then. Mister Macintosh, care to plant some apple seeds?” She hastily added, “Just for sport, you know! I won’t require anything else of you, we just do this for fun. Or they do, I don’t do it much. Um… do ponies have sex for fun where you come from? I don’t really know. I don’t want to offend, I’d just really like to. Really.” Big Macintosh sniffed the air, wrinkled his lip in appreciation, grinned at her. “Twist my hoof, why don’t ya. I mean, yeah! It’s jes’ a saying. Means ‘yes’. Lead the way, we’ll go back to your house and git private.” Her eyes widened. “What?” “You know, lead me to…” “I’m a farm pony, Mister Macintosh! I’m only an earth pony. I share a farm house with eight other mares, all of them cuter and daintier than me… or that’s what they’d tell you. What is ‘private’? Why would I lead you someplace like that?” “Um,” said Big Macintosh, “y’know, go off somewheres and have sex an’ all…” Fuji rolled her eyes. “You don’t want to be seen with me, of course.” “Naw, it ain’t nothin’ like that!” protested Big Macintosh. “Honey, Ah love the whole look of ya, from that fine toned rump to that there wild prairie mane, I tell you I’m proud ta tap that ass… exceptin’ that maybe you’ll like it better up the hoo-ha an’ not the patootie…” “Look around,” instructed Fuji. He did. At least six pairs of ponies were quietly and happily copulating around them, all at a polite distance so as not to be distracting. One pair was actually a threesome of stallions, with an extra one sucking from below. One of the couples contained Atsui, who called out, “Go for it, Fuji!” before her eyes rolled back in her head in bliss, testament to the pleasures of the slim but muscular pegasus who’d mounted and entered her. Big Macintosh looked back at Fuji. She smirked at him, with a coy angling of her head, and then trotted away a short distance, with Big Macintosh following close behind. Her gait was springy and healthy and fine, like the farm ponies he knew… in fact, dern it, she had a flank nearly as potent as his beloved sister, though it felt less disturbin’ to think of it as a flank to rival ol’ Braeburn’s, he’d just be enterin’ a bit lower… “It’s okay!” squeaked Fuji, darted forward, and hugged him. “I’m not making fun of you, if you’re shy that’s okay! Don’t cry! I’m sorry if I’m not attractive, but it’d mean so much!” “Ah’m not, I mean you’re fine,” began Big Macintosh, and wiped his eyes. “Sorry. Been workin’ real hard, an’ thinking of stuff I shouldn’t think about.” Fuji hugged him harder. “Don’t be sad. I want to make you happy, Mister Macintosh. And I really could use this, okay? I never get laid, I’m not pretty.” “Mrrf,” went Big Macintosh into her neck, as he hugged back. “What?” He hugged tighter, and spoke clearly. “Th’ hell you ain’t. Miss Fuji, you’re a hot hunk o’ mare, and it is my honor.” “Oooh…” she breathed, in amazement and a little disbelief. “Don’t even go no farther,” he said. “Let ‘em watch.” “Oooh!” squeed Fuji. She pranced for a moment like a filly, and her fine muscled body gleamed in the evening light… and then, Big Macintosh reared and clasped that supple rump against his belly, and began to trot and position himself. She arched her neck against his in delight, and let out a wild whinny as he prodded her pussy, and then with a deft shove of his powerful hips, he’d poked his expanding flare into her and she clamped down excitedly upon him. She was silky-slick and the closest thing to his scale he’d had since he came to Neighpon… yet, he didn’t start pounding her, didn’t ram boldly to her gizzards like some maddened colt’s first fucking. He was, after all, the greatest stud-pony of Ponyville and its environs, and he’d been trained by… well, by somepony whose absence hurt his heart dreadfully, if he was honest. He’d been trained by a pony who looked just like this mare in so many ways. As a sort of homage, as an act of expiation, as the nearest thing to an apology he was going to ever see, he began to make love to Fuji as if she was that pony he’d lost, as if it somehow could heal his hurts just by dealing with this mare the way he knew he could. Fuji’s eyes grew wider and wider, as she felt the massive, potent hard-on begin to explore her vagina with ingenuity and tenderness, moving in a way she’d never felt… swelling to breathtaking girth… and lasting, lasting so astonishingly long, like no other stallion had ever done inside her. She began to whimper with pleasure, against the faint squelching noises her pussy made. She gave a breathy squeal, clenching upon him in an orgasm that dizzied her, and then the squelching was a lot louder, for she’d gushed with lube and all he did was deepen his stroke, taking advantage of the lubrication. Other ponies began to drift over, fascinated, including a post-coital Atsui and her pegasus lover. They watched, faces alight with happiness, keeping very quiet and still to not disturb the scene. Fuji jolted harder and began to pant and wriggle, tensing her buttocks again and again, bearing down on that ridiculously girthy shaft. Some of the watching mares had eyes bigger than the horsecock those eyes devoured. Some of the ears, both mare and stallion, were laid back in alarm, just thinking about what that had to feel like. They stared back and forth between the big strong farm pony mare, and the stallion who straddled her and made her look, if not small, then in scale. Their awe was obvious. Big Macintosh shut his eyes, and kept on lovingly balling the mare with a Ponyville body and colors like his lost Braeburn. He clasped her closer, feeling his climax impending, and his cock swelled up enthusiastically in the snug muscular confines of a fine healthy mare like the mares back home. Fuji began to emit little shrieks, oddly fillyish, staring up into the evening sky as if witnessing something impossible and miraculous there. Her whole body began to shiver and quake in his embrace. Big Macintosh gritted his teeth. “RNGH!” “YEEEE!” screamed Fuji, her body rigid with shock. Just as she’d begun to really climax, a weighty load of horse-spooge had blasted through Big Macintosh’s cock, uncompressed by the challenges of dainty undersized and overambitious vaginas… and it had all slammed into her cervix and flooded her womb in a single heavy blorp. He’d given just enough of a shove to pop all her corks and seal himself firmly against leakage, and then he’d flooded her like a tsunami of farmpony. She collapsed forward, and as Big Macintosh frantically tried to avoid toppling onto her, five cheering mares sprang forward to support their companion. “Yay! Yay, Fuji!” cried Atsui. “You did it!” “She’s beautiful!” cried another. “She’s not frigid or uptight at all! She came!” “Uh, uh,” sputtered Big Macintosh. They were holding him up as well. Then, the whole crowd eased them forward, and Fuji sprawled, ass in the air, horsecock still buried in her vagina, and her face pressing the grass: eyes half-lidded in postcoital stunnedness, and tongue cutely lolling. “Yay!” repeated Atsui. “We love you, Fuji! Now we know what you need!” “Since when can we find a dangura to fit her?” protested another mare. “It was not just that!” said Atsui’s pegasus. “I watched. He went for amazingly long, like a fucking hero! I know a guy who will take on the challenge. I will try myself! We will learn to please Fuji, now that we know how. The rewards are great. Did you see her eyes?” “Uh, scuse me!” protested Big Macintosh. The pegasus turned, smiling, to face him. “And you are that hero. If it does not hurt you too much, stay there! This is a wonderful night.” “No,” squealed a mare. “Me next!” “No, me!” In alarm, Big Macintosh squirmed away, popping juicily out of Fuji, who splatted bonelessly onto the ground surrounded by most of the celebrating mares. “I better get movin’,” he said, “before th’ Kirin comes to scold me some more!” All the ponies blinked, astonished. “Why?” said one. “Well, ya see,” stammered Big Macintosh, “my experiences with ponies here keep being a lil’ too exciting, and some of y’alls ladies ain’t exactly the type to fill me with confidence…” “Yay!” squeaked a bouncing, petite earth pony mare. Big Macintosh recoiled, and ran for it. The assembled ponies blinked at each other, their ears back. “I think you scared him, Dekinai,” said the pegasus. “I think he expected you to demand his dangura.” The itty-bitty pony gasped. “No, that was Hirobiro demanding some! Not me, why would I ask that? He would split me in two!” “Of course it was me!” said the mare in question. “You know how much I like huge cock! Curse it, it would have been so incredible!” “Be good, Hirobiro,” chided Dekinai. “The important thing is that Fuji found love.” “Yes,” said the pegasus. “I promise, I will make it my mission to find her that combination of dangura and stamina she needs. To think we overlooked her, all this time!” Dekinai made an itty-bitty grumpy face. “Be fair to yourself too. She used to complain and insist that she was unloveable, too large and crude, a mere farm worker pony without beauty. I’ve seen you try and flirt, and be put off by this.” Fuji stirred. “…’m sorry…” The pegasus leaned down and kissed her. “Don’t worry. Now we know the truth of you, beautiful strong mare.” “Yay!” squeed tiny Dekinai, once more. “Why did the amazing giant horse think Kirin would come here?” wondered Atsui. “I don’t know,” said the pegasus. “We’re not foolish ponies, we don’t hurt ourselves or others. Why would Kirin need to come when we aren’t problem ponies that need their attention?” He blinked. “But… Dekinai, if that titanic dangura wedged into you, you would need all the Kirin to rescue your suberi-yasui-men. I know, and you know, that you would not attempt anything so painful and foolish. Why, then, did you cry ‘yay’ and frighten the giant horse?” She blinked, smiling at him. “Because I would get to watch him fuck Hirobiro?” And then, there was nothing but laughing ponies hugging, and good cheer. “Oh my GAWWWD honey, I’m so looking forward to this,” crooned Vinyl Scratch. The subject of her attentions blushed and smiled a great big eye-crinkling grin. He was a white earth pony stallion, with a greying brown mane and tail. He sported a little goatee, and though he was taller than the great DJ Pon-3, otherwise unremarkable. He did wear little glasses, but it was as much practicality as affectation: he had difficulty reading things close up. It wasn’t his looks that had captivated the great DJ. Nor was it an enormous horsecock, for he didn’t have that. It was all right, mind you: nothing to sneer at, but hardly a record-setter. It was simply this: Hasu came from Shido, in the Nairiku-bu province of Neighpon. He lived there still, and was returning from a business trip to Chowa. One more day, and he’d have returned to Shido, unknowing. And that was where Vinyl Scratch came from. Vinyl snuggled him, and he hugged back warmly. His eyes had gone very wide behind his little glasses when he finally recognized Vinyl behind her DJ Pon-3 shades, and after the gig he’d shyly made his way to the stage where Pon-3 was holding court among a gaggle of starstruck ponies panting for her attention, or indeed attentions. She’d stared, frowning, at him for ten seconds before lighting up like a Hearth’s Warming decoration and squealing “HASUUU!” and pouncing him. From that moment on, the hapless starfucker ponies were doomed to just wander off in pairs and threes, because Vinyl Scratch had glommed onto some sort of old nerdpony and wouldn’t even let go. It wasn’t even a sexy glom, at first: Vinyl had a million questions about back home, which Hasu was delighted to answer. Things were well in Shido, and Vinyl hugged him again and again in delight, hearing how her other old friends were thriving. The blushing and grinning began on both sides when Hasu’s body responded, noticeably, to the rubbing, nuzzling presence of an affectionate, excited mare. They’d fucked, back in the day. It hadn’t seemed like a big deal at the time, though it’d been nice. He’d been fixated on his reading, indeed had become a bookseller in Shido. She had been chosen by the Kirin… and had then pursued her destiny. Neither had thought twice about their parting of the ways. As Hasu’s modest horsecock pressed against Vinyl’s belly, it brought with it intense memories of a simpler time… and he’d been entirely willing to revisit the old times. “Trust me, it’ll be a thousand times better,” teased Vinyl. “I’ve been doing exercises for years. I can’t wait to show you! I’m kind of amazing now, you’ll see. Uh, I mean feel.” “You’re silly,” replied Hasu, with a snuggle. “No, seriously…” “No, seriously,” retorted Hasu. He touched his nose to hers, peered over the little glasses. “Vinyl, nothing you do could be better than you already are. I was a virgin colt when you led me off to the quiet place in the orchard, west of town. I didn’t know what to do, and you helped, but the special thing was this: you were so happy. I know I can’t have had much skill, but it felt so good… and I could tell in my bones that it made you feel good too. We shared that.” Vinyl’s eyes widened, drinking him in. “Ever after,” said Hasu, “I’ve had a piece of that freedom. I can tell by how you are now, that you’ve never lost it. Heck, you’re proud to show me what you’ve learned! Sounds great, let’s do it. But know this: you were always more than enough, and thinking about you has always made me feel good.” Her lip quivered, and then she’d smushed it against his in a fervent kiss. “Me too,” she insisted. “I mean, I wasn’t a virgin, it’s not like that, but DUDE you know I always think back on it with like total fondness, I want you to know that, not even making it up even though I’ve had like miles of dick since then…” Hasu chuckled. “Well, I don’t have miles of dick, Vinyl. Same old Vinyl, lusty filly!” “Same old Hasu, everything’s funny!” retorted Vinyl, her eyes dancing. “Would you like another foot or so, milady?” teased Hase. “Every little bit helps.” “I’m gonna give you the works,” promised Vinyl. “And you know what? I’m gonna love it, you have no idea how good it felt to see you again. Oh my GAWWWD Hasu, seriously!” “Oh my GAWWWWD Vinyl Scratch,” he said, and winked from behind the little glasses… for that was what he’d said so many years ago, when she’d propositioned him. And she’d said it back, mimicking his little saying, and added, “I’m going to make you mean that when you say it to me!” And so she had, and even picked up the curious phrase. “But right now I gotta check on something,” she said, turning aside. Hasu didn’t even blink. “Of course. What’s up?” “Besides you?” teased Vinyl. “Put that on hold, I still want it. There was some trouble with my roadie and my opening act, before the show. I want to be sure they’re not fighting. I’d lend you to her, but she’s acting funny and I’m selfish and want you all to myself.” He chuckled. “Granted.” “Before I spotted you, I’m sure I saw Big Macintosh balling some pony out in the field. If he went home with her… gah!” Vinyl jumped back. She’d stepped around the side of the PA speaker, only to discover that Big Macintosh himself was hiding behind it. “What happened, Big Macintosh? Is something wrong?” “Wrong?” blurted Big Macintosh. “Ah’m tryin’ to make my mind up between wrong and wronger and wrongest!” Vinyl heaved a sigh. “Talk to me. What’s up? Do we have to skip town again?” “That’s jes’ it,” moaned Big Macintosh. “Ah’m afraid the wrongest thing might be, we don’t!” Vinyl boggled. She took a deep breath, glancing at Hasu, turning again to her recalcitrant roadie. “Okay, spill it.” Big Macintosh gulped, a look of pitiable distress on his face, and tried to gather his cumbersome, plodding ideas. “I reckon I ought to be practicin’ on unicorns to feed up my Kirin love for when I finally find her, but I did a dumb thing, like even dumber than fuckin’ pegasus mares. I done fucked an earth pony mare, right over there. And that can’t be right ’cos I ought to be the best I kin be at makin’ unicorns squirt, no offence since I know you got upset over bein’ a big failure pony at that, but it jes’ goes to show I gotta do better than you, but I don’t mean on you ‘cos you don’t do th’ road crew though I gotta wonder if I’d been there mebbe I coulda helped, to get you to squirt enough that is, but the thing is, I been fuckin’ a passel of ponies and sometimes gittin’ chased out of town by Kirin, but I proper knocked this pony over and there ain’t no Kirin comin’ to help her. An’ they came to help all the unicorns and pegasuses an’ such. Miss Vinyl, don’t the Kirin love earth ponies the same as the fancy magic ponies? ‘Cos there ain’t no Kirin helpin’ the mare I fucked, an’ she fell right over. An’ then the little bitty fillies keep wantin’ to wreck themselves on my dick.” He stared, plainitively, at his boss. She stared back at him as if he’d repeatedly kicked her in the head, until Hasu gently touched her withers. Her jaw had dropped, and it would take a while before she could even begin to think about reeling it in. Where the fuck would she even start? Kicking HIM in the head repeatedly would not help the tour. And it would bring Kirin, for legitimate reasons and not his mad kaleidoscope of demented and insulting notions. Vinyl gulped. “Hold that thought,” she ordered. “I need to go check on Octavia.” And then she was off, with Hasu running to keep up, then catching her. “Vinyl! Sweet! What is this madness?” She paused, tearfully. “Exactly! Shut up, just shut up, I gotta find my opening act. Maybe she can talk sense into him? I can’t even, I so totally can’t even…” “That wasn’t nice,” said Hasu darkly. “Aside from saying horrible things about Kirin, what he suggested about you…” “Ya THINK?” wailed Scratch. “Shut up shut up, I need Octavia, I can always count on Octavia to be an oasis of sanity no matter how strange things get. I know she was going to scout around for food we could take on the road, she probably went back to our cart…” Vinyl slowed, fell silent. The cart was there, and in a sense food was there, but the manner of consuming it seemed unusual. Octavia was just behind the cart and hadn’t heard them. She was somewhat distracted. The manner of her distraction was also unusual. She took the form of a tripod-pony: five-legged, with two forelegs down between her two hindlegs positioning a third leg where legs did not normally go. It was leg-sized, but it was actually a titanic daikon radish. Octavia, shaking, balanced atop it, dead-centered against her pussy, and leaned harder and harder upon the thing. Her mane was ragged, her eyes clamped shut as she focussed her attention on the appallingly unforgiving intrusion into her tender femaleness, and sought to balance her full weight upon it. Hasu grabbed Vinyl in alarm, recognizing the scope of Octavia’s problem, his mouth in a comical down-turn of dismay. He began to take a breath to speak, but then froze in total horror. Octavia’s weight was bountiful. Mare flesh could not long resist the pressure she wilfully imposed upon herself. There was an almost audible creaking as the blunt end of the daikon radish pried Octavia open. Gravity did its terrifying work, and Hasu clung to Vinyl in horror as the lovely, brilliant cellist sank down onto her massive vegetable, her tail thrashing in obvious agony, her teeth gritting, her whole body shuddering and quaking incoherently as inch after inch of radish torturously penetrated her… Octavia, reeling in pain, came to rest with her butt against the grass, the entire huge radish rammed up her tortured vagina. She lifted her head, and screamed. “STOUT HEARRRRT!” Octavia fell over, twitching, her eyes rolling back in her head as she surrendered to continuous orgasm. Hasu and Vinyl Scratch stared at each other, appalled. “Just… can’t… even…” moaned Vinyl, and clung to her old friend desperately. He frowned, thinking. “What can I do to help?” he whispered, over the orgiastic moans of Octavia clenching on her stout radish in the grass nearby. Scratch glanced up at him, shocked, as if she’d just realized something. Some way to the east, a peculiar creature made its way to a cave in the side of a mountain. It was a relatively insigificant mountain compared to the amazing mountain range that faced them, but it did offer some shelter, and getting out of sight was important. Scouting pegasi could be anywhere. The Weird Monster made camp for the night, flying into the cave with multi-colored wings and landing in a heap of three pegasi and a unicorn. They hadn’t needed to fight again, and that was a mercy: this costume seemed much worse than the last. It had more decorations on it and was fuzzier, but without some tailoring it wouldn’t allow the Weird Monster to spit out a flailing pegasus filly by way of self-defense, and the heavier material risked muffling Sweetie Belle’s deadly squeaks. It didn’t matter. They’d found shelter, and concealment. “It’s fucking cold!” griped Scootaloo. “Yeah, sorry, it’s a hiding place!” retorted Rainbow Dash. “That’s because it’s part of the way up these mountains. We can be nice and warm if we stay down where the ponies are and let them catch us!” “Nooo!” wailed Sweetie Belle. “They’re so fierce, I’m scared! They totally tried to kill the other costume we were in! Please let us stay here?” “Of course we are,” said Flight Lightning. “Good find, Dash. These must be the mountains Sweetie told us about, huh?” “Must be,” said Dash. “The capital city, Choad, is past this mountain range. I was looking out the eye-holes, and this has to be it.” “Are we gonna fly over the mountains?” asked Scootaloo. “Shyeah right!” scoffed Dash. “Not in that costume! Probably not at all. Those are insanely high mountains! It’s not just really cold, like even worse the higher you go, but the air gets bad. It’s all thin and doesn’t work very well. Once I tried to see how high up I could get by rainbooming vertically, and it was a really REALLY bad idea, okay? The air got all fucked up and there was this blue line around the world and then I was trying to breathe but it hurt and I started to pass out… it really sucked, I didn’t try that one twice. These mountains might not be as high as that, but they’re obviously bad news. All snow and rock and shit. Nothing can live up there.” “But then what are we gonna do?” wailed Scootaloo. “Hey, easy, sport,” said Rainbow Dash, blinking at the sudden burst of angst. “We go around, of course. That’s what ya do when you hit a mountain range so bad you’d die if you tried to fly over it. And I’m telling you, there aren’t many mountain ranges like that. I’m actually glad I got to see this one, it’s severely badass. What’s got you so upset?” Scootaloo’s lip quivered, even when Flight Lightning’s eyes narrowed to see it. She wouldn’t look at her Mom, or at Rainbow Dash, but she did speak. “M… my Dad’s out there.” “Oh, for pony’s sake, Scoot…” began Flight Lightning. “No, listen!” begged Scootaloo. Tears were in her eyes. “It’s so hard. We’re, like, here because my Dad d… didn’t want to be with me, with us, anymore. He came to this place, and he’s chasing Big Macintosh, and Sweetie thinks they’ll end up in Chowa the capital because they’re performers and like star musicians and stuff and…” “Scootaloo, so help me…” gritted Flight Lightning. Looking guiltily at her Mom, Scootaloo toned it down a notch, by sheer force of will. She didn’t blubber, her lip did not quiver… but she insisted on finishing the thought that so haunted her. “What if Dad tries to go over the mountains, and he dies?” Her answer wasn’t in words. Rainbow Dash reached over, and hugged her. Scootaloo stood it for a few seconds, and then sobbed and buried her face in Dash’s chest, weeping as silently as she could. Dash kept an eye on Flight Lightning, who looked pissed, and gave what comfort she could. “No way, okay, kiddo? Braeburn’s way smarter than that. There’s no telling where those mountain passes lead, could be avalanches, snow, and you know he’s a cowpony, right? Since when does he go and play in snow? More than that, since when does Braeburn go anywhere straight? Of course he’s going to go around! That’s way sneakier to do and you know it!” Scootaloo sniffled. “You think so?” “I know it,” asserted Rainbow Dash. “Even we aren’t going to try and go over. That’s crazy, nothing sane would be up there. Now, I get that Big Macintosh is being crazy but he’s a big softie, he’s gonna go around too. And there’s no way Braeburn would be up there.” Scootaloo still looked tragic. Rainbow Dash cast about for more to say, and found it. “And you’re wrong, you know. You said Braeburn didn’t want you. It’s not like that. He got caught up in his feelings about Big Macintosh, we’re all sure about that. It was obvious. Well, you can call that love, and maybe he does, but there’s all kinds of love. I’ve had most of them so I know. I know how Braeburn feels, because there was a time when I thought I’d lost Applejack, and… that wasn’t good. I totally understand how Braeburn feels.” Scootaloo sniffled, unconsoled. Flight Lightning glowered, tense as a knot, saying nothing. “But,” said Dash, “love is also what you do for others and with others. It’s made up of all the little dumb personal stuff which adds up to a big romantic thing, and it can’t be resisted. I don’t mean just the big desperate stuff that Braeburn’s feeling. That’s distracted him from what the rest of love is. And if Big Macintosh is after the Kirin, he’s lost sight of it too. Hey, check it out: we’re used to saying Big Macintosh’s whole name. Why? Because he doesn’t like it if we just say Mac, he says, ‘Ah don’t have many syllables, leave me th’ ones in mah name’. Right? And we do, we’re used to it. That’s love.” Rainbow Dash hugged Scootaloo, and kept talking. “We have to find Braeburn, and show him the shape of his world. He’ll snap out of it. He’s got to, or it’ll become this line of lovelorn ponies chasing the ones they can’t have! And we need to find Big Macintosh and show HIM the shape of his world too, because he’s an idiot!” “Are you done?” said Flight Lightning. “Are you mad?” said Scootaloo to her, miserably. “Don’t worry about it,” said Flight Lightning, not meeting her eye. “It’s been a fucking long day. I’m not mad. It’s just hard.” “Scootaloo?” said Sweetie Belle gently. She gave Flight Lightning a dirty look, and began leading Scootaloo off to a corner of the cave. “Come cuddle, Scootaloo.” Rainbow Dash was looking critically at Flight Lightning. “Yeah… Sweetie? Around that corner. It’s safe, I don’t smell anything in here but rocks and cold and snow. Give us some space, please.” “You’re going to need it!” sniffed Sweetie Belle. Without further argument, she led Scootaloo around the corner, her own terror and dismay forgotten once she could comfort her special somepony. Dash continued to gaze at Flight Lightning. After the younger mares were out of sight, she said, “They’re gone.” “Thanks,” said Flight Lightning. “Am I reading too much into this?” “Doubt it.” “How much do you need a hug of your own, Lightning?” “Very badly,” said Flight Lightning, in the exact same clipped and dispassionate tone. “You got it.” With that, Rainbow Dash scooched over, and hugged her tense pegasus companion, who stared angrily at nothing. “Soooo…” began Dash quietly. “Which thing did she say that caused this?” Flight Lightning’s glare worsened. “Oh, I could kill her. So not fair.” “Yeah, but say it. C’mon, Flight. This is, like, old Flight Lightning behavior. Spit it out, don’t just sit there hating.” “Yeah,” said Flight Lightning. “She s… said t… said…” Rainbow Dash cuddled her a little closer. “Said… he didn’t wanna be with meeeee…” Flight Lightning broke, in total, grim silence. Her words trailed off, her eyes swam with tears, and she turned to Rainbow Dash and clung like a drowning mare, desperately tight. Dash hugged back, real hard, and marveled at her journeying companion: veteran Weather Patrol, tough as nails, single mother for so many years, and then Flight Lightning was herself lost to love. Having found Braeburn again, she’d been obsessed and with the help of many other ponies had brought the notorious outlaw back to Ponyville, to lavish with affection and rather wild family life, a boyfriend and a father to the foal he’d planted in her. And then, all at once, Braeburn had thrown over that whole life and gone in mad pursuit of his own romantic obsession, abandoning all the other forms of love that had flooded his life. And in this cold and empty cave, listening to her daughter sniffle the unthinkable, Flight Lightning’s heart had broken into jagged shards, and nothing was left her but bitterness and pain. And… Rainbow Dash, who had hunted outlaw ponies before. “Listen,” she said intensely to Flight, who shuddered in her silent emotional agonies. “That’s wrong. You’re not a kid, listen. You know that’s bullshit.” “Fuck… fuck… Dash, he kicked his house down…” “Didn’t kick you, did he?” retorted Dash. “I mean it, listen. You should understand, you and me both know how that kind of thing goes. Just because he’s lost his stupid mind doesn’t mean anything. You knew all the time, if Big Macintosh ran away, Braeburn would flip. What did you do, when Braeburn ran? Same fucking thing. I would do the same for Applejack. You can’t go by that kind of dramatic stuff. Give him a chance to remember who he is. He isn’t giving himself that chance.” “He isn’t?” muttered Flight Lightning, into Dash’s chest, locked in a tight hug. “We’re gonna get them all back,” vowed Dash. “Do you believe me?” Flight opened an eye. It was tearful, yet still angry. “You fucking cirrus-brain, Dash.” “Do you believe me?” Flight heaved a big, quavery sigh. “Yeah. Yeah, I believe you.” “Because it’s true?” “Because you’re just the cirrus-brain to do it,” said Flight Lightning. Dash hugged her again, kissed the tears away from her eyes. “Because you’re gonna help me. Aren’t you?” “Idiot.” Dash shook her. “Aren’t you? I can’t do it alone. I have you, right? Full on, bad-ass, no prisoners Flight Lightning?” Flight Lightning gave Rainbow Dash a glare, one that adequately expressed the cruelty of Dash demanding a heroic performance from a broken-hearted, despairing mare who’d been rejected by the idiot fool love of her life. It was a hell of a glare, one to terrify weaker ponies. The corner of her mouth twitched up, and Dash’s heart sang to see it. “Fuck yes, I’m going to help you.” Flight Lightning snuggled up, and allowed her fellow badass pegasus pony to cuddle her to sleep. As Dash herself drifted off for the night, she repeated it to herself like a mantra… “We’re gonna get them back.” “Oh, hello, Big Macintosh. Ready for bed?” said Octavia. “Ah reckon,” said Big Macintosh. “Miss Vinyl around? I think I ought ta apologize for somethin’. Seems I upset her.” “She probably went to bed,” said Octavia. “I didn’t see her, since the gig.” “Din’t see you,” suggested Big Macintosh. “Did ya find somethin’ to do?” “Oh yes,” said Octavia with satisfaction. “What a lovely country! I did some shopping. And I blew off a little steam, and then I had to do more shopping as I’d been naughty. Fortunately, there was a Kirin to help.” “Whut?” blurted Big Macintosh. “Ain’t no Kirin! Least I din’t see no Kirin!” “Have you ever seen a daikon radish?” replied Octavia. “Nope!” “If you had, you’d know why I needed to see a Kirin,” replied Octavia, with satisfaction. “My, yes. I’m sure Scratchie will be pleased to hear it. She really was right all along, and though I find I can’t disrupt the source of my muse, still ingenuity finds workarounds. The poor Kirin was cross with me, but never mind that.” “Ah was afraid they’d be cross with me!” said Big Macintosh. “It was worth it,” said Octavia. “The next gig is SO important, and I feel much better. I’m sure it will be a great… what is this?” They’d got back to the cart. The spot where Vinyl liked to sleep was there. Vinyl was not. Her decks were not. However, a small envelope was. Big Macintosh and Octavia stared with alarm at each other. Hoof trembling, staring at the space where Vinyl’s decks should have been, Octavia opened the envelope and revealed a note. The two read it, side by side. It said, in shaky, upset hornwriting, “What the serious fuck guys SERIOUSLY!” With two days left to journey around the mountains and get to Chowa for the big final gig… Vinyl Scratch was gone!
