The Course of the Moon

Moon Dancer had forgotten in her studies her appointment at the Proprietor's Sanctuary Café (Minuette called it the PPS Café for some reason), and until the Mental Memo reminded her she had planned for a full day of work. 'Figures,' she said to herself, 'if there's nopony else to disturb my study it'll be me, myself.'

Getting ready, there was no need for her to change her underwear. She slipped into her chequered blouse and rubbed her glasses with its sleeves, ready to go. Let's get this over with, she thought, trotting to her destination.

Faintly she remembered the Proprietor's Sanctuary Café from some dreadful school engagement; remembered being in the shadows behind some pillar, wishing she knew some magic that would hide her entirely. She tried to find the corner in question, but as she slid around the café, she found there were altogether too many pillars and similarly looking tables to do so. Ivy spun along the trellis roof and many groups of chattering students demanded in some way her attention. 'That's why I always say you have to pick your battles,' a proud young stallion remarked to an impressionable friend, 'and remember that even when you know you're right, you don't always have to prove it.'

Typical of a truly arrogant pony, Moon Dancer thought to herself, finding it possible even to brag of one's humility. Ignoring the other customers as best she could, she soon located her table. Four upturned glasses marked the reservation, and a big bottle of spring water stood ready.

'Ah there you are!' Minuette called behind her, right as she sat down. Her smile beamed with the delight of anticipation, and she wore a thin green blouse with a button on it picturing a leaf. It must have been a membership token of her new explorers' club. 'I missed you!'

Waving off the hug, Moon Dancer said, 'It's only been a week or so.'

'Two weeks...'

'It's only been two weeks or so - wait, I thought you'd be coming with Twinkleshine?'

Minuette giggled nervously, fondling the little menu card. Then she said, 'I kind of invited her brother instead.' Then she waved towards the bar and, at last bidden to reveal himself, a sleek looking black unicorn in long sleeves strode towards their table.

Taking the seat opposite of Moon Dancer, he promptly bowed his head towards her and, peering over his sheeny glasses, he said, 'Yeah, Twinkle couldn't make it. I'm sorry if Minnie already said so, I couldn't quite hear everything from where I was - not that I was eavesdropping in particular or anything, but anyway, yeah, Twinkle had to visit her friend Lyra in Ponyville. Not sure why exactly, but she did say something was up suddenly.'

'I'm sure if it was serious, she would've said more,' Minuette assured, 'so let's not worry about it.'

'Having fun without me?'

Lemon Hearts shuffled in from the toilets and immediately Moon Dancer thought of her peeing; wondered even if she had already seen her pee in the vial. But surely this was nothing but an errant - and most definitely inappropriate - fantasy.

Moon Dancer mumbled the traditional courtesies, and soon they ordered their drinks and bites. She was profoundly irritated by the presence of Twinkleshine's brother Bell Point, for he had the maddening tendency of including her in their conversations, oftentimes exactly when she had lost track of whatever it was that Minuette or Lemon Hearts had gone on about.

'Don't you hate that too?' he asked her presently, and she pretended to be chewing some of the salt-heavy radish fritters, gesturing ambivalently to buy time.

'I'm sure, in fact,' he went on in his smooth drawl, 'that you have all sorts of secrets.'

She choked on her imaginary food, thinking once more of Lemon Hearts and the beaker. She quickly said, 'I'm about to develop this magic that would break the Cosmic Constant and exceed what magic could be possible of; remove all boundaries of space and time and magic itself; usher forth a never-ending age of possibility!'

'That's Moon Dancer,' Minuette said cheerfully, 'always so ambitious and stuff! I'm so proud of you Moon Dancer! I hope we'll still get to hang out when you're too powerful for this world!'

'Of course we will,' Moon Dancer replied, retreating from her sudden exclamation. She had not intended to so brashly speak her mind: between the incident with Lemon Hearts and Bell Point's prying investigation she had become volatile and unusually defensive. She recognised this in herself and resolved not to speak of these things again. Gazing at her fritters, she clarified her position in a more political light: 'Besides, I'll be way too busy refining the magic to be able to leave Canterlot. Or if I do leave, I'll at least have to leave a Consciousness Clone behind for ponies to interact with and to annotate my studies in this plane.'

'That's quite a secret,' Bell Point said at last, 'though I guess now that you've told it it's not really a secret anymore.'

'I try not to keep secrets,' Lemon Hearts opined with a giggle, 'they get me in trouble.'

Moon Dancer jumped up again, her thoughts still confined to that of a future Canterlot. 'Secrets? Who said anything about secrets?'

She hid in a murmur of balderdash, Minuette and Bell Point soon covering her tracks with some trivial talk about their education. Hurry, time, she commanded, and whisk me away to somewhere quiet and anonymous. But as they completed their meal, Minuette suggested, 'Why don't we go check out the faire? It'll be a blast!' And she looked around the table in search of that same excited smile that she had made her trademark.

Before Moon Dancer could think of anything to say, Lemon Hearts mumbled, 'I actually have a bit of a headache, but you guys have fun for me, okay?' And so, Moon Dancer could not possibly extricate herself with a similar excuse. Off to the faire it was.

Lights flashed though it was still afternoon enough, organs recited marine mainstays, and ponies - so many ponies - tousled and tussled and tucked between and everywhere else. Minuette had lead the two of them to the claw machines at the perimeter of the Festivity Faire, and she insisted Moon Dancer would try and extract some plush parakeets for her.

Behind her, Bell Point was telling them about his job as a receptionist, dealing with dignitaries and other demanding ponies. As she had tried her hoof at the machine, he said, 'It's not really so exciting, really, most of the time you just have to ignore how important they are and treat them like a normal pony. Once I met the sister of one of Celestia's most trusted aides, and she wanted a huge suite with two beds, and I had to assure her it wasn't impertinent of her to do so.'

'Yeah, Twilight does that sort of thing too,' Minuette remarked as Moon Dancer pushed her flank against the machine. 'Cause she doesn't want ponies to fuss about her and make special arrangements.'

'You mean Twilight Sparkle?' Bell Point marvelled. 'You girls know the princess?' He continued to look uncertainly at Moon Dancer's claw abilities, processing this new fact. He had always wondered what sort of ponies Twinkleshine knew, and if they in turn knew any celebrities. It was something that came to him automatically, much as he always asked of himself when a guest trotted up to the reception who they were and what they expected from a reception. At last, when Minuette took over the claw machine, he said, 'I've heard that Princess Twilight is actually a rather awkward pony in the flesh.'

Minuette grunted something that neither confirmed nor denied the notion, and he continued: 'Apparently, she's so busy studying that sometimes she forgets how to talk to ponies. That's what I've heard.'

Unable to contain her thoughts, Moon Dancer said, 'She's actually very forward and, uh, easy-going, and not awkward at all. And yes, her understanding of magic may be second to none, but it's not like she doesn't know how to dance - that's a fabrication.' She wanted to bury her words, though they were not untrue. Did he realise how much of what she was was because of Twilight? Without her, she thought, I would be in the Canterlot Library, or trying to renovate my old home. Nopony would dare say hello to me. And I would be glad of it, too.

'Ah. I see.' He turned to Minuette, but she was much too concentrated to provide any input on the matter. A fanfare honked and trumpeted somewhere behind them, beyond the cotton candy maze, and none of them spoke. Moon Dancer's thoughts so turned to the party that Twilight had thrown her, and the world seemed to her a terribly fragile place. The mere concept of losing somepony... it was unthinkable.

When at last the sound had shuffled off to a more appreciable volume, Bell Point looked at Moon Dancer and waited. She had to wonder if her emotions had shown, but then he remarked, 'I wonder what Lemon Hearts is doing instead of going to the faire.'

Moon Dancer immediately jumped to Lemon Hearts' bedroom, which she recalled being very orange, and saw her there on the bed, pushing various potions and vials up her vagina. It made her grimace. She knew also that she was expected to respond to Bell Point's comment, so she quickly cried, 'I have no idea!'

The lights of all two-dozen or so claw machines flashed blue, green, yellow, and pink - it reminded her of the headache Lemon Hearts was supposed to have. She questioned herself regarding her secret; if it could be that Bell Point and Minuette already knew. Would they talk about these things behind her back and tease her in such a way as they could be right now? Could it be possible also that masturbation and sex would be a perfectly natural topic for them to discuss? If this was true, it was no wonder Bell Point spoke so openly about Twilight: maybe they had barely any reservations at all.

'Will you look at that,' Minuette cheered, 'it took me less than ten tries! Told you it's worth the time to learn how to do it!' She held out her fuzzy little parakeet proudly.

She spent too much time with the pair of them. It must have been Bell Point who had suggested this lounge just outside the faire's grounds called the Crystal Cove, home to a hazy mist and several ponies cradling bongs or else glued to the cushioned couches. It was an atmosphere that instantly made Moon Dancer impatient and fretful. She thought, Doesn't he have anything better to do than waste his time here? I know Minuette doesn't, but not everypony can be like her.

They had shared a jug of the local iced tea - it was served with a saucer full of tangerine slices - and for much of the time Minuette and Bell Point had leant against each other on the tall couch opposite Moon Dancer like bored siblings. 'That's what I always said -' Bell Point giggled softly between words '- you have to watch your breathing when you're done working out or even when you're stressed out or anything. Minnie! Stop hogging the pipe!'

There hung a huge smile on Minuette's lips upon slurping the nozzle. 'Tastes like summer,' she wheezed.

In slow motion, they tussled until Minuette at last relinquished the bong. Moon Dancer could not but picture them being terribly red and sweaty under their clothes, burning with arousal. It disgusted her to catch herself thinking such things; the mere thought of their privates made her gag. She needed to escape, but there she was, held in place as though she too had been sedated.

'Think of it like a beach and the sea rolling in, wave by wave,' Bell Point crooned, 'every wave is a breath, and every single one will follow another, and again another... it doesn't end at all.'

It did bother her that she had wasted the day on social obligations and neglected her study, but still Moon Dancer returned to her work as though she had not missed a step. It's because my mind is still fresh, she thought, but I need to clean up the tower at some point as well. In fact she was not proud of cluttering the tower as much as she did, but as she did not have a convenient dragon assistant to keep up with these sort of things it fell on her to find the time for such trivial tasks. At one point Minuette had showed up at the tower, waving to her from just outside the kitchen window, and she had to make up some excuse as to why she could not let her friend in, for she did not like ponies to think she was a filthy shut-in: there was nothing wrong with spending time in the comfort of one's home.

Postponing those housekeeping responsibilities, she focused in on the larger matter, resolving to pick away at the Tendence through several adjacent formulae, knowing an opening would inevitably present itself. Her path tore through several tomes about renewing sources of magic, knowing these objects and spells would serve her to create an endless avalanche of pressure - or at least understand better their founding principles.

Somepony rapped the door downstairs and Moon Dancer jumped up, seeing at once through the vast window that it was night. So that faint ringing must have been the bell, she thought, and not the faint vibration of before. But who could it be, standing at the door at this hour?

The rapping resumed and Moon Dancer was halfway down the spiral staircase. Too quietly she called, 'I'll be right there,' quite certain that it could not be equinely possible to get downstairs before visitors would give up on anypony ever answering the door.

Just as she reached for the door knob, a low voice boomed, 'I'll be right back,' and before she realised what she was doing, Moon Dancer had opened the door. Nopony stood behind the door and quickly she peeked around the corners. Nopony was in the tower's garden, but then it was a large garden she had not spent any time on keeping. Wild plants had overtaken much of what was once, presumably, a light, flowery sort of affair.

'Who's there?' she called out, her voice receding into the night. Dark clouds had gathered overhead and she could not see very well in front of her. She waited for a response to come, but still there was nothing.

Afraid, she thought of some other thing she could be expected to ask of unannounced guests; anything she could think of that didn't require her to skulk around the bushes. Carefully she shut the door behind her and said, very quietly, 'This isn't funny. Who is it?'

It was cool enough now for her to be glad of the sweater that had clung to her sweaty and tight. So typical of tonight to have a crazy pony visit me, she thought, right when I was gathering momentum again. And if something happens to me, well before I finish, could I expect anypony to finish what I started? And what if it is Minuette with some scones or cinnamon rolls? What if--

'Oh, you know who I am,' the deep voice sang from somewhere within the garden. She was reminded that the voice was the polar opposite of Minuette's, and she shivered. She could not think of anypony the voice could belong to.

'Come out then,' Moon Dancer dared, though her voice was little more than a quavering whisper. She knew that had she been more convincing, that would surely have worked.

'But I'm right here, just a few paces away. That's right... behind the bushes. Waiting for you.'

Indeed, she had approached the sound; approached even though she knew it was absolute madness to do so. Parting the fronds she saw at once a luminous cloud of dusty stars and sparkling spheres. It hung there, drifting into the sky like a far-off nebula and yet it hung so close to her that she thought she could touch it.

'I told you I was waiting for you,' the voice said, and she wasn't sure where it came from anymore. Was it coming from the phenomenon?

'I... can't see you, can I?'

'Perhaps not,' the voice agreed, and to Moon Dancer's ears it had become playful; perhaps an overseas accent. Was it then some prank, after all? But the blue dust shifted in some way, and she could not keep track of how it moved or changed.

'You are some... magical entity? Because that's actually impossible.'

'But what else could I be?' And the cloud grew some semblance of a face, floating down so she could see some equine features there - a long snout perhaps, and sparkling eyes very near an event horizon. 'But so are alicorns; beings of pure magic. How else could they exist?'

'That doesn't sound right,' Moon Dancer said, taking a single step back so she pushed into the bushes. It had become difficult to speak, but still she forced out the words. 'An alicorn is grown as her powers increase, before or after birth. They are still ponies.'

She shivered as suddenly the magic dust touched her and it felt as though sand rolled over her skin, and she found that she could only move slowly. Desperately she tried to conjure up a spell - any spell - but the Arcanis well was dry; her horn devoid of magic. 'The pony would be the pony,' the voice cooed, 'but equally so the alicorn is a separate force of magic that the pony would draw upon; it exists with or without a pony, much like I do right now.'

'If you say so,' muttered Moon Dancer, wriggling her hooves as she looked around herself. No magic came to her and she did not know what to do. Could this even be real? No, it's not a dream, she reminded herself, knowing that if she were dreaming now she would not be consciously certain of being awake.

'I do say so, so I exist perfectly well, thanks to you.' Suddenly the voice shifted again, murmuring pleasantly, and the force on her body gave way, so she found she could breathe easily again. Then the stars before her shone a glorious turquoise. 'So I have waited here for you...'

'So you've mentioned before,' Moon Dancer said at last, and she wondered if she had been here very long. Her hooves had stiffened and her eyes were weary. 'But why?'

'I'll show you presently,' the deep voice teased. 'But first, let me give you some room to breathe.'

Slowly the magic cloud surrounded her, but it was not as though she was swallowed - it was as though she suddenly floated in space, and it was cool and soothing. 'Wait. What are you doing?' she asked, trembling as her sweater was rolled up towards her neck.

But there was no answer, and she leaned forward and did not fall on the grass. 'Wh-what are you doing?' she gasped, her tail tugged and held and caressed and pulled and yanked and smoothed out by some intangible comb of magic.

The voice was right there in her ear, its deep whisper rustling the hair in its tunnel. 'I'm doing what you've been wanting me to. Or at least, been wanting somepony to do... I'm slowly pulling down this dirty black underwear of yours...'

'What?' she exclaimed, her underwear pulled down and her untended shame bared to the nebulous force. 'You can't just do that! Magic or not!'

'Have you not wondered,' the deep voice dared, 'what it's like for somepony to dig their cock into you? Just once to find out what it's all about, to have somepony... fuck you?'

'I...' her voice trailed off and she had no idea how to finish her thoughts, or even if it mattered if she did or not. Despite the cool night and her exposure to it, her privacy was hot and swollen; something cushioned against it pleadingly so she could not but shake and gasp nervously.

'That's right,' the voice cooed again, 'this thick cock is going to push right into your dirty little pussy.'

She was pushed forward on the carpet of floating stardust and yet her hindquarters stayed where they were; her tail was yanked and she gasped on command. Mounted, the pressure that built could only end one way; torn apart by a prying, secret satellite in her orbit, rings sailing around her and still she could see them, though her eyes were closed from the sudden blow to her insides.

Was it her clit that stinged under the assault? She did not know things felt that way inside her. How many more chambers were there?

'I won't stop to tease you,' the voice panted, caressing her ears as a firm force pierced her further, 'I know you want - need a constant rhythm, and know this: I will not stop even when you can't take it anymore...'

'You can't--'

But it could; the magic wound its way inside her, tunnelling in its mysterious ascent; climbing towards her throat so that her saliva whet its appetite and her, her - she had to call it her pussy now - her pussy was pounded again and again. Barged to a pulp, everything inside her gave way to the undulating force. Inexorably it compounded and added, added yet again, and barely ever truly subtracted. Her mind was swimming with possibilities, and yet she could not grasp a single one: she was a panting slut.

Her glasses rustled the grass below. It was a fierce smell of musty vinegar or dry wood or her own fluids, slicking the hammering thrusts - it felt like she was peeing. 'This is what it's like to be rutted like an animal,' the stars whispered to her and briefly she opened her eyes so that white flashes made them tear. She could feel it in her stomach and in her mouth, in her butt and all around her; she could reach outside herself, if but briefly, and touch the moon itself.

'Ah... it can't - it can't be!'

Flushed, she thought, I'm getting sexed! No - surely this can't be how it is to have sex? But her thoughts were washed down along with the rest of her by pure magic and tingling dust; incredulous moans and hot strands of spit escaped her gaping mouth; hot and cold sweat like the goo gushing inside - it didn't stop. She knew it would not, maybe even before it was promised to her. But it had to end some time, surely? It could not continue; there was no further it could go. 'Everything that ends,' some powerful, brilliant light impressed as it pressed and penetrated, 'also stays with you.'

Deeper, wetter, and harder than the laws of time and magic themselves. It can. Her consciousness shattered: all was black or white and smothered by overpowering bliss.