Insert Punny Bat Title Here
And then she saw him, golden mane swaying in the wind as he turned to face her. Leathery wings flapped an instant later, the mare moving further into the shadows as the observer became the observed.
“No, don’t go!” He held up a hoof, taking a step toward the forest as he watched the trees carefully. “I... I won’t hurt you.”
The mare stopped, hooves clopping gently down onto a tree branch. As she turned around, bright, turquoise eyes looked out from the darkness, watching the unicorn stallion with a careful gaze.
Then she fell backwards into the forest, melding into the shade of the huge trees.
“Wait!” he yelled as his hooves surged forward. Soon he was galloping through the Everfree, eyes watching above for the lithe form of the strange mare. Tree limbs and roots seemed to reach up for him as he passed, ripping and tearing at his coat and mane. He pushed onward though, for what seemed like an hour, before the sound of a stream caught his ears.
He crested a small hill, the water running perpendicular at the bottom of the slope. Up ahead, he saw blurred movement from across the stream. He took a step forward, and then slipped. Hooves flailed wildly as his body slid down the hill, before he fell face-first, right into a tall, hard tree trunk.
Slam!
Slam!
The door to my office banged open, a suit-wearing earth pony stepping inside without invitation.
“Plot Device, I’ve got an important job for you.”
I turned in my chair and stared up at his pseudo-friendly smile and sighed. “I’m already working on the next chapter for my piece, Mr. Quick Sell.”
He waved a hoof at me, his red mane waving from the momentum. “Put that dribble on hold, Plot. We’ve got more pressing concerns.”
A small flash of magic cleaned up my desk, quills, ink and notebooks scurrying back to their proper place. I sighed. “What do you need me to do?”
The weirdly permanent smile seemed to widen as he trotted past my desk, putting his hoof around my neck. “Well, Nightmare Night is tomorrow, and we had wanted a piece about batponies for the Mustang.” He began leading me out of my office and down the hall.
“Yeah.” I said, moving a tad slower so his hoof fell from around my neck. “Wasn’t Perfect Climax supposed to be doing an adult piece for the thestral story?”
We passed the break room and turned a corner, the golden letterings of my fellow employee’s office door coming into view.
Perfect Climax, Lead Mature Writer.
“Yeah, he was, the little pissant. He called in sick, and well, you know how he procrastinates.” Quick Sell knocked on the door, after which a small buzz sounded and he pushed it open. “So of course that means he hasn’t even started yet.”
The office was far cozier than my own. A large, comfy looking sofa sat alongside one wall, next to a full-sized fridge and a small liquor cabinet. Across the room sat two side-by-side oak writing desks, one of which was occupied.
“Hello there, Mirage. How are you this afternoon?” Mr. Quick Sell almost purred.
Mirage, a tall, slender unicorn with a pristine white coat and silver mane fluttered her lashes a little. “I’m quite well, Mr. Sell. Though I’m afraid I can’t say the same for my dear Perfect Climax.”
“Yeah, that little bugger has put us in a bind. Why he procrastinates so much, I’ll never understand.”
I smirked a little. “He always claims that it’s his method. Apparently his best work only comes to him when the deadline is only a few hours away.”
“Indeed,” Mirage giggled.
“Well I can’t argue with the results,” Quick Sell grumbled. “I guess I’ll just leave you to it then, Plot Device. If you need help, just ask Mirage here and she’ll provide whatever inspiration you need.”
I blinked, then blinked again. “Wait, what?”
Already on his way out, Quick Sell turned to me and smirked. “Yeah, you get to write the mature content this week. You have the rest of this afternoon to get it to the presses.” I swear, to divine princess herself, that his eyes were twinkling at me. “Good luck.”
Then the door shut and I was left alone with Mirage.
“Horseapples.”
Another giggle sounded from behind me, and I turned to face Mirage, my face already heated to a fine red tint. “And what’s so funny?”
Mirage didn’t even look slightly embarrassed. “Oh, Climax always blathered about how you were so adorable when you got frustrated.”
My cheeks burned as I moved to sit down at the empty desk. The cushion sighed as I plopped down and leaned back, heaving a heavy sigh. “I hope he rots in Tartarus.”
“Who? Quick Sell or Perfect Climax.”
I sat back up, searching the desk for a notebook and quill. “Yes.”
A greenish glow enveloped the bottom drawer, pulling it open and extracting what I needed for me. “You know, I think I’m going to like you,” Mirage said, a small, sincere smile on her face.
I opened the notebook, dipped my quill, and then wracked my brain. And wracked it again. And then wracked it some more.
I slumped, the page before me still blank.
“Ugh, I can’t.”
“What seems to be the hangup, Ms. Plot?”
I laughed despite my annoyance. “ I don’t really do mature stuff. I like fluffy, cute and adorable, not smutty, dirty and… ugh.”
“Oh? But Climax always talked about how much of a great writer you are,” Mirage teased. “He said he just loves all your little stories about family and dedication, and that you’re ten times the writer that he is.”
My mouth hung slightly open. “Did he really?”
Mirage’s smile waned only a tad. “No, but did that help you feel better?”
I giggled. “Yeah. Thanks for that.”
“Anytime, darling. Now, would you like some inspiration?”
“What?”
“Well,” Mirage said, stepping away from her desk. “That is what I do here. I am Climax’s assistant. I help… stimulate… the more personal scenes in his stories.”
“What, like a ghost writer or something?” I said, blinking confusedly.
“Oh dear, you are precious.” She trotted over to the couch. “Just come and lie down, then we can begin.”
“Well… a little nap might knock a few ideas loose.”
Mirage simply smiled as I walked over and stretched out onto the couch. It was extremely comfortable; the cushions were plush and springy, and smelt of roses for some reason.
“Now, just close your eyes and relax,” Mirage coaxed.
Who am I to argue with such sage-like advice?
Then her hooves pressed down into my back. I briefly tensed in surprise before melting into butter. Every hoof found its way into a knot, moving and turning until I felt like I’d just float away. After a full ten minutes, I was pretty sure I’d never been more relaxed in my life.
“Is this how you usually help Climax?”
There was a brief silence as she began moving further down my back. “Oh, occasionally, though he usually just gets right into it.”
“What do you mea—”
Her hooves dipped around and past my flanks, my cheeks burning like freshly-lit torches. She pulled away as she felt me tense.
“I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable,” she assured me.
“Oh,” I said, then it clicked. “Oooh. It’s just that… well, I’m not really into mares.”
Mirage chuckled at this. “Darling, don’t ever try to be a politician.” Before I could answer, she bent down low and her hot breath touched my ear. “You’re very easy to read.”
Then her hooves played gently around my tail and a soft “Eep” escaped my mouth.
“So,” I managed to say as she continued, “how does this help with writing?”
She pressed her hooves into my flanks, the tips tracing over my open-book cutie mark. “Well, with Climax, it puts him in the mood for more intense scenes. So for instance—”
A greenish light flickered in the room, and I turned my head to see a lovely, magenta mare with leathery wings, and very, very sharp fangs.
I tried to back away, though there wasn’t anywhere to go but against the other side of the couch. “Y-you’re a changeling?!”
A small roll of her eyes came before she answered, “Like it’s really some big deal, Darling. The alliance was announced months ago, please calm down.”
I took several deep breaths before I was able to relax. Then she moved forward and stood just in front of me, her snout inches from mine.
“Do you like what you see?” She turned and spun slightly, gently smacking me with her tail. “Thestrals are agile, lithe, and most of all,” she purred, pushing forward and nipping at my neck, “playfully mysterious.”
I was struggling to speak as she hopped alongside me, one of her wings draping across my back. Then, from between the seats, she pulled a notebook and small charcoal pen.
“Just write what comes to you, and let me do the rest.”
“Y-yes, Ma’am,” I said, my voice squeaking a little as I blushed.
Her tail flicked back, and the room went dark.
That last hour had been the most intense experience of my life. When Mirage finally turned the lights back on, I observed several overturned desks, at least one empty liquor bottle, and paper scattered everywhere. Mirage herself lay beside me, her warm, thestral coat pressed up against me. My horn glowed as I picked up the tattered notebook, my magic having transcribed my thoughts for me, even in the darkness.
“This is…” I swallowed, hard. “... really good.”
Mirage turned, nuzzling me as she peeked at my writing. “Oh, yes. I remember that part.” She giggled and then nipped at my ear. “And anytime you need a little more inspiration, don’t hesitate to call on me, darling.”
Slam!
My door banged open for the second time today, and again, Quick Sell sauntered into my office like he owned the place, which, of course, he did.
“Well then, Plot,” he said, holding a magazine in his hooves. “The story is a more little real than I’d normally care for, but it’s still pretty entertaining for having been your first try.”
“Thank you, Mr—”
“—But this title is waaay too on the nose, Plot Device. What were you thinking?”
I blinked, looking to where his hoof pointed.
“Horseapples.” My face fell against my desk in frustration. “I’m sorry, Mr. Quick Sell, that was supposed to just be a working title… I forget to change it.”
Quick Sell sighed heavily, curling up the magazine before patting me on the back. “It happens to all of us at some point, let’s just hope they think it’s just some clever joke.” I smirked a little, then nodded as he continued, “But how did you even get it past the moderation department. Aren’t they supposed to catch this kind of thing?
“Oh, well, I’ve been here so long, they just automatically approve it,” I said before frowning. “I guess in hindsight, that’s not a perfect solution.”
“Eh, they do their best.” Quick Sell turned to walk out, setting the magazine on a table near the door. “Come on, I’m taking the staff out to dinner tonight.”
“The Tasty Treat?”
“Of course.”
I smiled, looking at the table as I passed. I’m such an idiot.
Insert Punny Bat Title Here
By Plot Device
Author's Note
Hope everypony enjoyed this, and special thanks to my prereaders for their help on this one 
As always, comments and critiques are appreciated.
With love and dedication, Dreams of Ponies 
