Swamp, Tap, Dark Ritual, Hypnotic Booty
There are a lot of reasons to scream. Anger, frustration, excitement. Oliver Tweed was screaming because of the skeleton. Naturally, you might ask yourself why there was a skeleton and what a young man like Oliver Tweed was doing with it, or how it had ended up on top of him, but no one would begrudge Oliver the right to scream when dealing with said skeleton.
It had, after all, fallen for the third time that day.
“Sorry!” Laurel said. “It was the hook that time. We didn’t have it secure enough.”
“At least the line didn’t snap,” Hearty added, the boy half as tall and twice as heavy as Oliver’s other club member. Oliver himself hovered between the beanpole and the bowling ball, though this wasn’t terribly special since most people would find themselves between those two extremes.
“I told you high-test fishing line would be more than strong enough, and almost invisible in the dark,” Laurel said. “It’s way better than the twine.”
“Do we have to use a real human skeleton?” Oliver asked, struggling to free himself from the tangle of bones. Laurel helped lift it by the strings they’d tied around the limbs.
“The school magic club has to have the best decorations,” Hearty said. “Remember last year when the glee club did a haunted maid cafe for the Jack-o-Lantern Jubilee?”
“Yeah! You had to go in with a blindfold on and they told you that you were eating spooky stuff like blood or eyeballs, even though it was just tomato juice and grapes.” Laurel smiled. “It was neat.”
“Pinkie Pie looked really good in her headless maid outfit,” Oliver muttered, remembering the way it had been just a little too tight for the girl. She’d put on a few extra pounds of candy weight at the last minute, too close to the deadline to get it altered.
“How did she do the trick where she carried her own head around?” Hearty asked. “I’ve been trying to figure that out for almost a year.”
“Magic, probably,” Laurel sighed. “It’s kind of cheating. I don’t see why they get to use magic and we don’t! We’ve done way more studying than Pinkie Pie has.”
“Maybe we still can.” Oliver glanced toward the locker in the back of the room. It was their secure storage space, the doorway sealed with a line of salt, sage hanging from the door, and a padlock to keep Scootaloo out after they’d found her poking around inside without permission.
Laurel dropped the skeleton. “No way. If Sunset Shimmer catches us with real magic again we’ll be banned from Halloween stuff forever!”
“Last time was a fluke,” Oliver protested. “All we need is just a little help. We’ve got that magic book and--”
Hearty shushed him loudly.
“Don’t even talk about it! Until we get the whole thing translated, we keep it on the down low.” He did something with his eyebrows that was probably supposed to look clever but ended up being more like a dancing caterpillar.
“This isn’t gonna be like the card thing,” Oliver said. “It’s for a good cause.”
“Dude, there are still some students challenging each other to duels for their souls,” Laurel said. “Between the addictive ink and the whole, you know, necrom--”
“We don’t use that word,” Hearty warned. “Especially not when we’ve got, you know.”
He motioned to the skeleton.
“Come to think of it, is anyone else a little worried that Vice Principal Luna had a human skeleton?” Oliver asked.
“It was a little ominous when she said ‘who doesn’t have a few skeletons in their closet’ and did, like, that evil laugh,” Laurel admitted. “But you know she loves Halloween. She was probably gonna use it herself if nobody asked.”
“Speaking of asking, uh…” Oliver hesitated.
“Is this gonna be about the dance?” Laurel asked.
“It might be about the dance,” Oliver admitted. “I figured you guys probably don’t have dates, so…”
“I have a date!” Hearty said, so quickly and defensively that it absolutely had to be the truth. “I asked them like a week ago.”
“Oh, yeah?” Laurel asked. “Who is it?”
“I don’t wanna tell you,” Hearty said. “It’s gonna be a surprise.”
“A surprise, huh?” Laurel frowned. “Well, uh, I got a date too. I just thought you guys would be jealous if you found out I was the only one!”
“You do?” Hearty looked as shocked as Oliver felt. “I mean, uh, good for you!”
“Yep. Guess that means Oliver’s the odd man out this time.”
Laurel and Hearty looked at Oliver Tweed, and the young man did the only thing he could at that moment.
“I asked somebody too,” he lied.
“That’s awesome!” Laurel smiled. “We’ll all meet up and compare dates.”
“That’s a great idea,” Oliver said, even though it was a terrible idea. He knew it was a terrible idea. What he didn’t know was that this terrible idea, unlike the others that he and his friends had on a daily basis, would end up as a real pain in the rear end later.
Oliver, of course, hadn’t actually asked anyone to the dance. That isn’t to say he hadn’t thought about it. He’d thought about it a great deal, in the way that anyone who was anxious about something will think, or rather, overthink, an idea ten times more than someone who is actually confident about what they’re going to do.
Left to his own devices, he wouldn’t have asked anyone. He’d have spent the night, well, not alone exactly - his friends would have been there - and they’d have tried some ritual they found on the internet and possibly ended up with the ghost of Bloody Mary haunting the boy’s room.
Instead, the peer pressure was a call to action that drove him to make the momentous decision to actually push through the anxiety. He couldn’t be the only one to show up without a date! That would be terrible, and he’d be shunned and mocked for hours.
Oliver had set his sights low. Right around hip-level. Oliver liked women with a set of curves, especially when those curve turned into a round, shapely rear with just the right amount of bounce and heft.
And the person at school with the best butt had to be Pinkie Pie. If there was a school-wide ass contest she’d win every gold medal. Her posterior was practically perfect. A girl with an amazing ass, one of the friendliest people in school, and, if Oliver was very lucky, she wouldn’t already have someone to go with her to the dance.
“Sorry, I sort of have plans already,” Pinkie said.
If Oliver Tweed had been very lucky, he wouldn’t have been in this mess in the first place.
“You do?” he asked, feeling his hopes deflate like a balloon that had asked another balloon to a dance and had been shot down in a very literal way, instead of the metaphorical way Pinkie had shot him down.
“Yeah! We’re gonna get candy from Ponyland!” Pinkie said, excited. She put an arm around his shoulders, waving her other arm and trying to paint a picture with her words. “Imagine it! A whole world of candy that we’ve never seen or heard of before! There could be flavors we’ve only dreamed of! Maybe even the legendary sixth flavor, beyond even Umami!”
“That sounds… nice?”
“I think Fluttershy is the most excited. She loves weird candy. She imports all this stuff from overseas and none of it’s in English and it’s like, what even is red bean paste anyway and why is the chocolate flavored like it, you know? But it was good!”
Oliver just nodded along. People tended to do that when Pinkie talked, and then, later, when they were hip-deep in banana pudding they’d realize that at some point they’d agreed to something they shouldn’t have.
“She’s got this thing for these little gourmet chocolate bars with wafers inside and I don’t know if I can really say the brand here but you know the ones I mean,” Pinkie continued. “They’re pretty good but they’re not my favorite, and I thought they only came in one flavor but she showed me that there are all kinds of flavors and you can’t read what they are because the label is in another language and so you think this is going to be another plain chocolate bar but instead it’s flavored like strawberry and rose petals!”
“That’s… good?” Oliver offered.
“Right! And that’s why I’m going to help you get a date!”
That was a sudden left turn, which was the kind of thing that immediately derailed your average train of thought. “Wait, you are?”
“You bet! I mean I kinda feel bad about saying no because you’re really sweet. Don’t worry, though. I know exactly who you can ask!”
“Pinkie, um…” Oliver started, trying to find the right words. He elected to settle on disbelief after a quick vote amongst his emotions. “Are you sure this is the right person?”
“What, I’m not good enough?” Scootaloo folded her arms.
“Come on, no fighting,” Pinkie said. “I know you’ve both been looking for someone to go to the Jack-O-Lantern Jubilee, and when two people want the same thing it means they can work together to get what they want! It’s the magic of friendship.”
“It’s just, you know.” Oliver coughed. “She’s kind of…”
“What, are you gonna call me short, huh?!” Scootaloo demanded. “So short I’d get lost in the grass if you forgot to cut your lawn?! A tiny little shrimp that you need a microscope to see?! Come down here and say that to my face!”
“No, no!” Oliver held his hands up. “It’s just, you know. I’m eighteen and you’re… twelve?”
“I’m fourteen!”
“Yeah, see, that’s--”
“Forget it, Pinkie!” Scootaloo huffed. “He’s too old anyway. I’ll just ask Sweetie if she wants to go as friends.”
“Awww… but you could give him a chance,” Pinkie Pie said, looking crestfallen. “He’s really lonely too and in a few years you’ll be eighteen too!”
“And by then he’ll be like, thirty,” Scootaloo said, with the same terrible disregard for the laws of addition that was reflected in her test scores.
“Shoot.” Pinkie Pie tapped her chin.
“Maybe someone a little older?” Oliver suggested.
Pinkie snapped her fingers. “I know just the girl, Ollie!”
“Oh, I’m very flattered,” Granny Smith giggled. “But I couldn’t.”
“Pinkie,” Oliver groaned. “This isn’t what I meant.”
“Normally I’d just tell you to show up in a tux and have me back before midnight on account of the Apple Family Curse, but I’m going to be working the buffet and the school has very strict rules about the staff dating students.”
Pinkie frowned. “Are you sure? Because I always hear stories about Principal Celestia.”
“What was that about a curse?” Oliver asked.
“I’m sure you’ll find someone nice,” Granny said. “Here, take an extra Pumpkin Taco.”
She put a third taco on his tray, chunks of southwestern-seasoned pumpkin spilling from the sides under the sour cream and cheese.
“Thanks,” Oliver said.
“Maybe if you get a little extra meat on your bones you’ll be able to get a nice girl,” Granny said.
“I don’t know what you want!” Pinkie said. “This one is the same age you are! They’re definitely attractive, and nice, and single!”
“That’s all true,” Oliver agreed. “There’s just one problem.”
“What is it?” Pinkie asked, confused.
“Flash Sentry is a boy, Pinkie,” Oliver explained.
“I am that,” Flash agreed. “Can I go now?”
“Hear me out,” Pinkie said, holding up her hands. “I know it seems weird, but maybe it’ll work! You never know until you try! It’s like how I thought chocolate-covered bacon sounded weird, but then I tried it and it’s actually really great even though it’s mixing savory and sweet!”
Flash and Oliver shared a look.
“I don’t see what chocolate-covered bacon has to do with this,” Flash said.
“Well, you could try covering him in chocolate, and--”
“I’m out!” Flash said. “No offense, dude. You’re just not my type.”
“And you’re not my type,” Oliver agreed, nodding.
“Good luck finding someone to go to the dance,” Flash said, offering a fist. Oliver bumped it. “I think I’m just gonna bring my guitar and jam with the band. You never know when there’ll be a spontaneous musical and you’ll need to provide the instrumental track.”
“Come on, Ollie. I’m sure I can get someone to say yes!” Pinkie gave him a fragile smile.
“I appreciate the effort,” Oliver said, sitting down on the steps. They’d been running up and down stairs to go from classroom to classroom as Pinkie came up with ideas and discarded them almost as quickly. Pinkie’s boundless energy meant she wasn’t even winded, but Oliver had to check a few times to make sure his legs were still attached.
“If we just ask one more person--”
“At this rate, we’re going to end up asking everyone in the school.”
“That was sort of my backup plan after I ran out of good ideas,” Pinkie admitted. “Well, good ideas and sort-of-good ideas.”
“Just please don’t try getting on the school intercom again,” Oliver begged.
“The VP really didn’t like us barging in during the announcements,” Pinkie agreed. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it when she said she’d have us suspended.”
“She didn’t just say suspended,” Oliver corrected, “She said she’d have us suspended by our ears from the rafters.”
“Yeah!” Pinkie giggled. “She was really mad!”
“Anyway, thanks for the, um, help?” He wasn’t sure 'help' was the right word. There were a couple dozen students that knew just a little more about his situation than he wanted.
“I’m really sorry I couldn’t find someone,” Pinkie said, deflating. “I don’t want your night to be ruined just because I said no…”
“Don’t worry, Pinkie,” Oliver said. “I’ve got some things I want to try.”
Pinkie pulled him into a hug. “Just promise me you’ll still try and have fun.”
“Tons of fun,” he promised.
Tons of fun was probably a little bit of an exaggeration.
Oliver sighed and flipped through the old book. It wasn’t quite ancient but it was just old enough that he had to be careful he didn’t tear the stiff, dusty pages. The ink was faded, making the words even harder to make out than the antiquated spelling and dead language would have already suggested.
“Who writes in backwards Horse Latin anyway?” Oliver sighed, as he scribbled down a few more notes. The author hadn’t used a name, and the title scrawled on the first page, Libellus Furvuum, didn’t offer much of a clue to its contents.
Still, it was a distraction, and Oliver needed one. It was only a few hours before he’d have to go back to school and admit to his friends that he hadn’t been able to find a date. He’d also have to admit he’d taken the book home instead of leaving it in the club locker, but they’d never been able to get pictures of the pages clear enough to work from a digital source, so at least he had an excuse.
“Page sixty-nine,” he noted. His phone did its best to transcribe what he was saying. “This looks like the start of a new section. There’s a large title and a few diagrams. Given the margin notes and the way the book falls open naturally to this page, I think it was referenced a lot.”
He got to work, picking the meaning out of the words. The most difficult part of translating Horse Latin was that every word could mean several different things depending on context, and the author had been intentionally vague about what he was doing.
By the time Oliver had gotten the first paragraph done, he had a better idea of what he was looking at, and it made his cheeks burn red.
“It can’t possibly be…” he re-read it. “This is a spell to summon a succubus!”
He paused.
“That can’t be right. Succubi aren’t real. I mean. They can’t be really real… can they?”
The book didn’t have an answer other than the tantalizing diagrams and helpful notes in the margin. They promised to make things easy, explaining things the text had otherwise left vague. It even had a list of suggested prices for various… services.
Oliver put the book down.
He could have walked away from it, closed it and had a laugh with his friends later.
But Oliver was a very intelligent young man, and, more importantly, he was lonely and full of hormones.
“It wouldn’t hurt to see what happens,” he decided.
Oliver cleared a space on his floor and made a wide circle with salt, adding more lines according to the diagram, almost like he was drawing a simplified spider web. It wasn’t a pentagram, but rather a series of angles. According to what he’d been able to translate it didn’t need to be exact.
The diagram drawn, he added a few candles and, finally…
“A bit of gold or three of silver,” he read. “Where am I gonna get gold or silver? And how much is a bit? Does it just need to be like, a speck?”
The book was probably full of answers to that, but it was also, as we’ve established, written in backwards Horse Latin by someone who was probably a bit of a jerk, given the tone of some of the entries.
This meant Oliver was going to have to guess. And since he wasn’t going to be able to get his hands on gold, he’d have to settle for the other option.
He opened his door and yelled out into the hall.
“Mom, can I borrow some of the good silver? It’s for a science experiment!”
Nightmare Night. It should have, by all rights, been the easiest night of the year for somepony of Ventress’ profession. A batpony should have been in high demand. Should have had her choice of clients.
She was - and she’d be the first to tell you - was sexy. This was an empirical fact, not an opinion. She needed to be good-looking enough to pull stallions off the street with the promise of turning their bits into the best night of their lives. That meant taking care of herself, keeping her mane and coat perfectly trimmed, a few tasteful accessories, nothing too garish, but enough flash and sparkle to catch the eye.
Unfortunately, there had been a new trend in Nightmare Night costumes. That trend?
“Everypony looks like a prostitute!” Ventress hissed. Quietly. There were too many kids out to say all the things she really wanted to say. She’d seen no less than three Princess Celestias, and each one had managed to show off more flank than the last. Ponies usually went around without clothing, but there was nude and then there was naked and the difference was important.
Nude was natural, just something unembellished and plain. Ponies were usually nude without a care in the world.
Naked was vulnerable. Exposed. A mare in the shower was naked. A pony posing in bed wasn’t just sans clothing, she was enticing, putting herself on display. Ventress did that every night, and she never felt more powerful than when she had a stallion wrapped around her hoof, even if usually she ended up wrapped around other parts.
All the mares in town were wearing just enough to remind stallions that they could very easily be convinced not to wear anything at all.
Ventress wasn’t wearing anything special but had already gotten a dozen compliments on her vampony costume. If she could pay rent using cheap candy and apples, it would have been fruitful (pardon the pun). Unfortunately, she needed bits, and it didn’t seem like there were going to be any stallions wanting for company tonight.
“Come on, you know holidays are always like this,” Pillow Talk said, as the two watched foals dressed like ghosts chasing each other around. “You could try and enjoy yourself.”
Ventress sighed. “It’s not holidays. On Hearts and Hooves day, we have to make ponies take numbers and wait in line. Last Hearth’s Warming, I ended up dressed up in ribbons and waiting under somepony’s tree as a present.”
“I forgot about that! That was a great look.”
“The problem is Nightmare Night. Everypony wants to look like me!”
Pillow Talk patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find somepony. Maybe if we wait until all the foals have gone to bed we’ll have better luck.”
“E-excuse me?”
Ventress’ ears perked up instantly. There was something about the tone of the voice, the slight stutter and nervous hesitation that was as good as hearing a pony’s entire life story. She turned slowly, making sure to wiggle her flank just right, stretch her legs like a cat, and manage to make it look casually and unconsciously sexy when it was really the result of experience and a lot of time spent in front of a mirror.
Just as she’d thought, a young stallion had snuck up on them while they were talking, somepony just old enough to buy her services but young enough that his sum total of actual experience was limited to what he’d been able to find in the back corner of the local bookstore.
“Good evening,” she said, smiling. And she meant it. This was exactly what she needed.
“I, um…” the stallion coughed. “Are you… I mean, I heard some rumors about, um, services and…”
Ventress giggled despite herself. She couldn’t help it. The young ones were always so cute about things. They didn’t know what to say or how to act so they danced around the issue and waited for her to grab them and drag them in.
“You heard right,” Ventress said, giving him a reassuring smile.
The stallion took a deep breath, a huge weight seeming to vanish from his shoulders. “Oh thank Celestia. I was worried, um, that you weren’t, you know. A lady of the night.”
Pillow Talk covered her mouth, stifling a laugh. “I don’t know how anypony could mistake Ventress for anything else.”
Ventress rolled her eyes, professional enough to avoid saying anything that would scare off her potential client.
“Maybe we should go somewhere more private and discuss things?” Ventress suggested. “Somewhere we won’t be disturbed.”
The young stallion nodded quickly, and Ventress led him into an alley. She didn’t intend to actually do anything there except talk, but she wasn’t going to bother taking him anywhere more comfortable until they’d settled on services and payment. She’d made that mistake before and ended up with a pony who didn’t want to pay for her expertise knocking on her door at the worst times. At the time she hadn’t known how infamous Caramel was among the local mares.
“So, let me guess, it would be your first time?” She asked.
He blushed, which was all the answer she really needed.
“It’s okay. I’ve helped a lot of ponies who wanted to make sure their first time was special,” she assured him. “Why don’t you tell me a bit about what you like? You don’t have to be shy. I’ve heard it all.”
“Well, um…” the young stallion swallowed. “I guess I’ve just always liked the night, a-and I’ve been reading a lot of books on the subject.”
Ventress nodded and offered him a smile, motioning for him to continue. “So you’ve read about it and you want to find out all about the real thing, right?”
“Yeah!” he smiled. “Sorry. I just don’t even know how we do this, or what I’m supposed to say or…”
Ventress shushed him. “It’s okay. The first time is always a little scary. You don’t have to be nervous. Take it slow and tell me what I can do to make it special for you.”
“Well, um, can you just… we’re not going to do it here, are we?” He looked around the alleyway. “It’s just not really, you know, what I had pictured.”
“No, no,” Ventress assured him. “Don’t worry. We’ll go somewhere more romantic and private.”
“Oh good,” he sighed. “It won’t hurt, will it?”
Ventress tilted her head. That was one of the stranger questions she’d heard from a stallion. “No? Why would it hurt? I mean, some ponies are into that, and it’s fine for them, but it should be good for everypony involved. It’s better to keep it simple for your first time, trust me.”
“Right, right,” he agreed. “How long did it take you to get used to it?”
“To get used to what?”
“You know. Drinking blood.”
“What?”
“I’ve never really eaten meat or anything, and I’ll probably miss real food but it’s probably worth it. Hey, is it true that you can hypnotize ponies just by looking at them?”
“Kid, what are you even talking about?” Ventress was at a loss. She’d been expecting questions about how to fit Tab A into Slot B and maybe a quick class on how to properly use condoms, lube, or both. She hadn’t been prepared for whatever this was.
“Sorry. It’s just that there’s like, Daring Do and the Bloodstone Pendant and Interview with a Vampony and I don’t know which is more accurate. I didn’t mean to offend you, um, dark mistress of the night. That’s an okay title, right?”
“Wait. You think I’m a vampony?!”
The young stallion paused. “That’s what we were talking about, right? You were going to take me to your lair and drink my blood and turn me.”
“I’m not a vampony! They’re not even real!”
“But… you’ve got…” He pointed to Ventress’ wings.
Her fur bristled, standing on end. “I’m a batpony!”
“According to Interview with--”
“I’m not a vampony.”
“Well then what did you think we were talking about?” The stallion asked, confused.
“Sex!”
“Sex? What? But I don’t even know you! Why would you think we were talking about… that?” His cheeks burned bright red.
Ventress leaned in and whispered into his ear.
“You teleport ponies around?”
“No, the other kind of escort.”
“Oh! The kind that--”
“Yes. That. For money. Since vamponies aren’t real and you’ve apparently got nothing planned for the rest of the night…” She smiled. “Why don’t I show you what I can actually do?”
“I don’t actually have any money. I kind of assumed that you know, you’d want to drink my blood for free.” He hesitated. “But if you’re willing to open a tab…”
“Dropping him in the river was a little mean,” Pillow Talk said.
“He needed to cool down,” Ventress huffed. “He wanted to open a tab, Pillow! Like I was some kind of, of…”
“No, keep going,” Pillow Talk prompted once Ventress had started trailing off. “Like you were what?”
“The point is, I would never do something like that for free. I have standards.”
Pillow giggled into her hoof.
Ventress’ ear twitched. “Is it midnight already?”
“Hm? No, it’s still early. Why do you ask?”
“Can’t you hear that bell ringing?” Ventress looked around. “Did somepony dress up as Star Swirl again?”
“I don’t hear anything,” Pillow Talk said. “Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”
“It’s coming from this way…” Ventress muttered, following the high-pitched sound, like crystals or glass. “I’ll be right back.”
“Try to avoid sucking anypony’s blood!” Pillow Talk teased, as Ventress walked down the street.
The sound grew louder, the crowd thinning as she left the town’s main streets, tracking the tone through backstreets so private she’d once used them for a quick meeting with a client who got off on the risk of discovery.
Moving slowly through the shadows, floating at eye level and apparently wandering at random, a mote of light like a living star twinkled and rang, swerving towards Ventress like it was a literal chick magnet.
Ventress flared her wings and backed up, instincts telling her to flee.
She was too slow, the light surging as it neared, leaping like a living thing and catching her halfway into the air!
The whole world twisted, the light getting bigger or Ventress getting smaller or maybe both at once, the magical glow eclipsing everything else in her vision, the white light splitting like she was being pressed through a prism, splitting into red, yellow, blue, green, and every other color in the rainbow and several that weren’t in any spectrum.
Ventress could feel herself falling through an infinite abyss, the light swirling and parting around her. Between plumes of color and bursts of blinding sparks, she imagined she could see something like an inverted night sky, a glowing backdrop with pinpricks of black.
Below Ventress, one of the black stars swelled, rushing up at impossible speed like a well, swallowing her up in sudden blackness.
Oliver backed away from the circle of salt.
“I’m gonna get in so much trouble,” he whispered.
The three spoons he’d borrowed stood on end, vibrating and sparking like they were caught in a whirlwind. Above them, a mote of light pulsed and then abruptly tore open. For a moment, the already weakened wall between two worlds parted.
Through that gap through nowhere, with a sound like a cork popping from a bottle, Ventress popped into Oliver’s bedroom.
She cried out in surprise, flailing at the air before falling into the middle of the circle.
“Ow,” she mumbled.
“Holy cow!” Oliver gasped.
“No, I’m a pony,” Ventress groaned. “What did I land on? Are these spoons? Why are there spoons here?”
“Oh, um, the summoning spell required silver.”
“Summoning spell?” Ventress stood up and looked around. “Where am I? What are you, some kinda hairless yeti?”
“You’re in my bedroom.”
Ventress looked around. “You’re a teenager, aren’t you?”
“How did you know?”
“Call it an educated guess,” said the pony who had been in more bedrooms than she could count. She stepped to the edge of the circle, looking around. “This is definitely the strangest thing that’s happened to me in weeks. This isn’t like, some kind of evil plan, right?”
She stopped to look at Oliver. He shook his head quickly.
“No!” He backed up. “I swear!”
Ventress tried to follow, and it was like walking snout-first into a brick wall. “Ow! What the buck?!”
“I guess magic circles do work,” Oliver mumbled.
“Gonna warn you now that if this is some kinda magic ritual where you need to sacrifice a virgin, that boat sailed a long time ago.” She looked around the room with a more critical eye. “I’m gonna guess finding a virgin isn’t really a difficult issue for you, though.”
“Hey!”
“I’m just kidding.” Ventress giggled. “But seriously, let me out.”
“Just, um, hold on.” Oliver started flipping through the book. “There must be something in here about how to deal with a succubus…”
“I’m not a succubus.”
“But the book says it summons a succubus,” Oliver said. “And it summoned you. Ergo…”
“I’m not! Let me see it!” Ventress stood up on her hind legs, pressing against the invisible wall. “I swear if this is like that Interview with a Vampony thing I’m gonna be… I’ll be peeved!” She huffed. “Sorry for the strong language.”
Oliver walked over, holding the book.
“This is in an old language called Horse Latin, but I’ve translated most of this page.” He pointed to the header. “See this part says--”
“Minadoneigh Octisneigh.” Ventress muttered. “Written backwards.”
“Right. And in Horse Latin that means Succubus.”
“No, that’s Olde Ponish for Lady of the Night."
Oliver looked confused. "But..."
"It doesn’t actually mean Succubus. It’s sort of a euphemism for what I actually am.”
“Which is… a pony with bat wings?”
“If we’re being super literal, yes, but I meant, you know. My special talent.” She turned to let him see her cutie mark.
“...It’s a very nice butt but I’m not sure why you’re pointing it at me.”
“My cutie mark,” Ventress sighed. “The red lantern? It’s sort of an old symbol for what I do for a living, and let me tell you I got off easy there - pardon the work-related pun - because I know a pony who got a cutie mark she has to cover up when foals are around. Apparently she gives the best blowjobs in the world, though, so you win some, you lose some.”
“You’re a prostitute?!”
“I have been known to provide reasonably-priced love. Speaking of which…” She motioned with her hoof. “Hold that closer. I took Olde Ponish in school but that hoofwriting is awful. Even if it wasn’t backwards, it’d be hard to read.”
Oliver sat down so it was closer to eye level, holding it for her to look at.
“I’m really sorry about this,” he said. “So are you from horseland?”
“It’s called Equestria, but yes.” She looked over the spell. “Now the good thing is I know most of these words. Unicorns love talking about their pet projects. And hey, what am I gonna do, complain that some mare hired me for the night just to listen to a lecture on how parallel universes work because her friends were all busy?”
“Um…”
“Anyway, if I’m reading this right, whoever wrote this is a genius and a perv. The spell is sort of written vaguely, so I can see why you translated it wrong, but the notes make it pretty clear. One of them’s about how to call on mares with bigger flanks.”
“I’m really sorry about all this.” Oliver said.
“I wasn’t doing anything else tonight. Anyway, I think the spell only summons mares of my profession who aren’t currently with a client.”
“So it’s a… booty call?”
“Looks like you could send me back, but…” Ventress smiled. “There are two ways to do it. I could just refuse and the spell will run out in a few minutes, or we could make an agreement.”
“What kind of agreement?”
“We agree on a price, I stay until you’re satisfied, then the spell sends me home. Considering how my night has gone, I wouldn’t be opposed.”
“I’m not sure about this…”
“Hey, you’re obviously looking for company. You even thought I was a succubus. Are you gonna tell me you tripped and fell and drew a magic circle on the ground by accident?”
“It was on purpose,” Oliver admitted.
“So you want some company, I’m free for the night, and I bet you’ve got some bits lying around. For a hairless yeti, you’re kinda cute.”
“This is all going a little fast!”
“See? That’s why you’re cute. You’ve got that innocent vibe that all stallions get when they don’t have experience with a mare. Unless you’re saying I’m not attractive?” She raised an eyebrow and waggled her wings.
Oliver blushed.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be better than some sex demon. So… call it a hundred bits?”
“Hundred bits of what?”
“Bits.” She frowned when he still looked confused. “You know. Money. Currency. Little gold coins with the Princess on them.”
“Um…” Oliver grabbed his wallet. “I’ve got ten bucks.” He held up the paper money.
“You don’t use bits? Even the griffons use bits!”
“Maybe we could trade?” Oliver offered. He scratched his chin. “I’m not sure what, though…”
“What’s that?” Ventress asked, pointing with her hoof.
“My watch?”
“A clock, huh? Seems kinda small. Lemme see.”
Oliver shrugged and took it off. It was just a cheap digital watch. “It’s nothing special.”
Ventress gasped. “Oh wow! How does it work? How do the numbers do that?” She pressed against the barrier between them, trying to get a good look.
“Well, um…” Oliver tried to remember how the watch worked. “There’s a vibrating crystal used to keep time--”
“That explains it,” Ventress nodded. “Crystal magic. That’s gotta be worth a lot.”
“It’s really not.”
“Well I’ve never seen anything like it, and it’s from another world! Please?”
“If it’s what you really want, I guess you can have it.”
The moment Oliver said that, the circle flared with light, and Ventress fell through the air that had been an invisible wall between them.
“Oh hey! I’m out!” She stood up and brushed the salt off her coat. “Guess that means the second part of the spell kicked in. Now I have to make sure you’re satisfied.”
She managed to emphasize every syllable in ‘satisfied’, stretching the word out until it was hanging on the edge and begging for release.
Oliver backed up a step, which was exactly the wrong move when trapped with a dangerous predator hungering for your meat. Ventress pounced, pushing him back onto his bed, and met with her prey’s first layer of protection.
“I just need to…” she fumbled with the button on his trousers. “Stars, you’d think of all things this would be the part I have down pat, wouldn’t you?”
It took Oliver a moment to realize she was playing with him, nuzzling his crotch and pressing against what his pants were trying to conceal. Ventress kept playfully poking at the catch, her breath hot and touch gentle, spreading his legs wider with her shoulders.
Eventually, between his growing erection and the half-undone button, the strength of his lust won, his cock freeing itself, the button popping loose.
“That’s better,” Ventress said. “Now let’s see what we’re working with~”
She gripped the band of his underwear with her teeth, wiggling her hips as she worked his pants down. His cock sprang free, standing proud and rock-hard thanks to the teasing she’d already done.
“Oh wow,” Oliver whispered.
“Shhh.” Ventress rubbed her cheek against his penis, the sensitive flesh throbbing in time with Oliver’s heartbeat. “Don’t worry. I’m a professional~”
She licked along his shaft, savoring the heady mix of musk and salt. Ventress loved it. She wouldn’t be able to do her job if she didn’t - for her, providing her body and skills to other ponies wasn’t just a way to make bits, it was what she’d be doing even if she couldn’t get paid. When she was with a dominant stallion she enjoyed feeling receptive and wanted, but this was even better.
Somepony, or someone, like Oliver made her feel like she had more power than Princess Celestia.
“Tell me how it feels,” Ventress said. “I want to hear you tell me how much you like this~”
Oliver blushed. “It feels like- ah! It- it feels so much better than when I use my hands! Please don’t stop, it’s so good!”
“Only good? I’m going to have to work harder.”
Ventress opened her mouth wide, wrapping her tongue around his cock and bobbing her head down with the ease of an expert, sucking gently as she took it an inch at a time until her snout pressed against Oliver and the tip of his manhood slipped into her throat.
Oliver cried out, shivering at the sudden sensation. “How are you doing that?!”
Ventress couldn’t answer, though if she could she’d have told him it was a lot of practice and professionalism. Instead, she slowly moved her tongue, the slick snake of muscle sliding around Oliver’s rod, rubbing against the sensitive underside of his shaft while she bobbed her head just a little, letting the head of his cock pop in and out of her throat.
She could feel him approaching his limit, the way his hips pushed, his body straining for that release.
Ventress slowed, drips of his salty pre landing on her tongue as she pulled away.
“What are you doing?” Oliver asked, confused. “I was--”
“I know,” the batpony said. “But I need to make sure you’re totally satisfied, don’t I?”
“...but I didn’t finish.”
“Of course not.” She turned, lifting her tail. “We’ve barely even started. Unless you’ve forgotten, I’m not leaving until you’re finished, and that means I’ve got to get every last drop out of you~”
She bumped him with her bottom, his rod sliding along her crack, leaving a slick trail.
“What should I do?” Oliver asked.
“You’re the client, technically you should be telling me that.” Ventress pressed back, making sure his turgid cock didn’t have a chance to soften, drooling more pre onto her rump. “Tell you what, though - let’s make your first time special. I’ll let you use my ass, and I usually charge extra for that~”
Oliver nodded, licking his lips.
“Let’s just get you lined up…” Ventress slid forward and back until the tip of Oliver’s rod rested against her tight ring, just on the edge of entering.
His hands found their way to her flanks, holding her hips like he was afraid she’d run away.
“Just take it slow,” she whispered. “Let me get used to how big you are~”
Oliver pushed forward, the batpony’s back door straining for a moment, the tip of his member pressing into her star before it suddenly popped inside. The teenager’s breath caught at the feeling of her tunnel, soft and velvety and tight around him.
“That’s amazing,” he breathed, as he slowly eased back and forth, even the inch he had now giving him more pleasure than he’d ever felt with just his hands.
“Don’t be afraid to go a little deeper,” Ventress said, squeezing down on him, making the boy gasp. “You can’t break me.”
Oliver pulled her back, driving deeper into her tight ass, pumping with long, slow strokes as the two got into a rhythm, the boy thrusting forward and Ventress easing back in time with him.
“That’s it,” she panted, her wings sliding back to pin his hands in place. She slammed back, impaling herself on the full length of his cock. “That’s just how I like it!”
“You like that?” Oliver asked, trapped between the batpony and his bed and loving every moment of it, each stroke along his length nearly popping out of her tight ring before slamming back all the way to the hilt, waves of pleasure surging with every plunge into her depths.
“It’s the perfect size~” Ventress moaned, lowering her chest to the ground, the angle of Oliver’s thrusts changing, somehow finding a way to take him even deeper.
Oliver gripper her harder, fingers digging into her thick thighs as his thrusts started getting faster and urgent.
“You’re not gonna be able to hold out,” Ventress said, reaching back to rub at her own dripping slit. “I know how good my butt feels~”
“It’s amazing,” Oliver agreed, between breaths.
“Damn right!” Ventress moaned, rubbing faster, her hoof finding her clit and moving in small circles. “I want to feel you go off inside me. I need to feel how good I made you cum!”
The batpony started twisting her hips as she pushed back, letting Oliver’s rod find every nook and cranny in her fanny, enjoying his reactions even more than the hot manhood inside her.
Oliver’s breath came faster, the squeeze of Ventress’ tight rump milking a constant stream of pre into her depths. He pounded faster and faster, drilling her as he fought, right on the edge of release.
“Do it!” Ventress ordered, pressing her hoof hard into her dripping lower lips.
Oliver cried out as the pleasure peaked, thick jets of his hot seed painting her insides with his lust.
Ventress bit her lip, moans escaping despite her best efforts to keep quiet. Trails of her excitement dripped down her thighs.
There was a sharp knock on the door. “Oliver? It’s Mom, honey!” The doorknob started rattling.
Ventress froze. In her long experience, someone unexpected walking in on her in the middle of helping a client usually meant an escape through a window and a distinct chance of not being paid.
“I’m getting dressed!” Oliver yelled, quickly. The rattling stopped.
“It’s almost time for your little school dance,” his mother said, through the door. “Your friends are here to pick you up.”
“They are?!” Oliver pulled free of Ventress with an audible pop, a rush of sticky love running down her legs and onto the carpet. “Tell them I’ll just be a minute!”
“You could have given me a little warning before yanking yourself out like that,” Ventress hissed.
“Sorry,” Oliver mumbled, trying to clean himself up with an old towel and get his costume on.
“...Uh, small problem,” Ventress said.
“Oh, sorry. Did you need a towel too?” He offered the one he’d used to her.
“No. Well, yes.” She took the towel, wiping herself down. “The problem is I’m still here.”
“Oh!” Oliver looked around. “Here.” He took off his watch after thinking for a moment. “I have to give you what we agreed on, right?”
Ventress took it and waited. Nothing particularly magical happened for a long moment.
“I don’t think it’s working,” she said.
“But we agreed on the watch!” Oliver protested.
“Hm. I see the problem,” Ventress said, rubbing her chin.
“What is it?”
She pointed. Oliver looked down at his still-hard cock, then quickly covered it up as if she hadn’t already gotten a very close, personal look at it.
“I’m supposed to make sure you’re completely satisfied,” she said. “And it looks to me like you’re so pent up you need a little more attention.”
“We can’t! My friends are gonna be here any second!” He pulled his pants up, grabbing a robe with bells around the edges and slipping it on over his outfit, the edge long enough to almost trail on the ground. “Do you see my hat anywhere?”
“That hat?” Ventress asked, pointing.
“No, that’s a baseball cap. It’s sort of a wizard hat, with bells all over it--”
“Oh. Like Star Swirl’s!”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Sure. He’s one of those mythical heroes, like Flash Magnus, Clover the Clever, and Giraffacles.”
“Weird. I guess he’s famous in Horseland, too,” Oliver muttered.
Ventress moved a blanket and pulled a wide-brimmed hat free, the edges jangling. “Here,” she said. “I’m pretty sure this is the one. Nice stitching on the stars.”
“When I get back, I’ll figure out how to send you home,” he promised.
“Woah, woah. When you get back?”
“I’ve gotta go to this dance with my friends and they’ve got dates and I don’t and the whole thing is a mess!” Oliver explained. It wasn’t a very good explanation, but he was under a lot of pressure.
“You don’t have a date?” Ventress asked. “No, wait, never mind. Don’t answer. If you had a date you wouldn’t have to summon me.”
“Yeah, and because of that, they’re gonna… well, they’re gonna pat me on the back and try to make me feel better.”
Ventress tilted her head. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“Ugh. It’s complicated.”
“Not really.” She tossed the towel onto his bed. “I’ll be your date.”
“What? But you’re a pony!”
“Don’t worry. It’s Nightmare Night, right? Everypony’s wearing costumes. They’ll just think mine is really sexy.” She winked.
“That’s not a costume,” Laurel said, the moment they got outside.
“Definitely not,” Hearty agreed.
Hearty had dressed like a Romane Centurion in armor made of soda boxes, and Laurel was in a striped shirt and domino mask holding a big bag with the word ‘loot’ written on the side. They’d spent a few hours and zero budget on their costumes.
“I don’t think it’s working,” Ventress hissed.
“I told you this wouldn’t work,” Oliver muttered.
“So you’re dating… a horse?” Hearty asked, folding his arms, his cardboard armor slipping.
“Well, uh…” Oliver had to think fast. “Where are your dates?”
Laurel coughed. “You know, funny story. Mine is, uh, well. The truth is I didn’t actually get a date. I just didn’t want to be the only one, you know?”
“Mine’s in college out of state,” Hearty said. Laurel nudged his shoulder. “Fine! The truth is, I thought I had a date lined up with someone online, but it turned out they weren’t really interested.”
Laurel laughed. “Dude, it was a Yakyakistani gold trader in World of Handcrafted Goods.”
“I thought she was sweet on me!” Hearty protested.
“I’d pretend to be sweet on you too if I thought I’d be able to get your mom’s credit card numbers.” Laurel pursed his lips and made kissing sounds. “A hundred bucks and I’ll let you give me a smooch.”
“Can we talk about the horse instead so I don’t get sick thinking about that?” Hearty asked.
“Horse is a little tribalist, you know,” Ventress said. “I’m a pony, not a horse.”
“That doesn’t really change the many, many questions I have,” Hearty retorted.
“Magic,” Oliver replied.
“You got actual magic working?” Laurel asked, excited. “That’s amazing! So she’s from Horseworld?”
“Equestria,” Ventress mumbled.
“Yeah,” Oliver said, putting a hand on Ventress’ head and ruffling her mane. She blushed. “Sort of like a blind date, I guess? We don’t need to go into details.”
“Well, I mean, the spell actually--” Ventress started.
“Don’t need to go into details!” Oliver repeated.
“Either way, that’s pretty cool,” Laurel said. “I guess that means you’re the only one of us who actually has a date tonight. Except, uh…”
“Uh?”
“Sunset Shimmer,” Laurel said. “You know she’s gonna freak out if she sees this. She hasn’t shoved me into a locker since the demon thing, but she might decide to give it a chance again if she’s in a bad enough mood.”
“We’re gonna have to sneak her in,” Hearty said. “Thankfully, I’ve got a cunning plan.”
“I don’t think this is gonna work,” Oliver mumbled. “Sunset and her friends are all at the front door. They’re gonna see us.”
Six of them were waiting outside, talking about some kind of misunderstanding involving the school groundskeeper dressed up like a ghost and trying to scare students away from the old chemistry lab. They’d had some kind of misadventure that involved unmasking him and discovering a cache of Hostess Fruit Pies.
They couldn’t make out the whole conversation from where they were, but it seemed like Twilight was sad that the ghosts hadn’t been real and Sunset was assuring her ghosts were definitely real and they’d find some later.
“Don’t worry,” Laurel said. “Hearty’s plan is flawless.”
“Explain it to me again,” Ventress said. “I’m just not seeing how that is gonna cause a distraction big enough to sneak me inside.”
Before anyone could get into the details of the plan, Laurel’s phone beeped. “Okay, get ready!” The lanky nerd led them from the van towards the doors, sticking to the shadows.
“You know, if we can’t get inside, I could get under that robe and have a little fun right here,” Ventress teased, nipping at Oliver’s bum just hard enough for him to feel it through the fabric. “You’ll have to pay extra if you want your friend to watch though.”
There was a cry from inside the school, and Pinkie Pie ran outside, cheeks even more rosy than usual, and not just because she was in a costume that was some kind of a mix between a clown and cowboy.
“Girls, someone turned the bean dip into a giant penis!” She yelled, waving her arms wildly trying to describe the size of the dong.
“So?” Sunset asked, shrugging. “It’s high school. People draw penises in things.”
“No, no! It’s actually like, standing up and sour cream and guac are shooting out of it!” Pinkie yelled. “You gotta see it!”
“A penis made of beans?” Twilight asked, rubbing her chin. “Hmm…”
“That sounds… exciting,” Fluttershy whispered.
“Come on! Yee-honk!” Pinkie ran in, and the other six girls followed her, Sunset trailing in the rear and looking resigned to her fate.
“Let’s go!” Laurel whispered, running for the clear doors.
A dark shape stepped out of the gloom, a terrifying spectre of black leather, blued steel, and eyes as cold and sharp as an icepick staring out from the shadows of a helm better suited for a gladiator than a school administrator.
“You wouldn’t be trying to sneak in, would you?” Nightmare Moon said, her voice like smooth dark chocolate.
“Oh hey, Vice-Principal Luna,” Laurel said. “We, uh… We didn’t want Pinkie to scare off Oliver’s date.”
The eyes in the darkness of the armored helm slid from Laurel to Oliver and then Ventress with the inexorable force of a glacier.
“That’s a very nice costume,” Vice-Principal Luna said, after a few moments, her tone suddenly lighter and more friendly. “Where did you get it?”
Ventress coughed. “It was, uh… a special order from… the… Prance. Yeah. Prance!”
“France?” Luna asked.
“That’s sort of what I said,” Ventress confirmed.
“I wish I had that kind of money to spend when I was your age,” the Vice-Principal said. She stepped aside. “Remember to get your raffle tickets before the drawing, and if I catch you with alcohol or anything else, your parents will be informed and you will suffer eternally! In detention.”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Oliver said.
“Good. Now, enjoy the night!”
Ten minutes later, they were safely in the club room, sitting at a table with a black tablecloth hanging all the way to the floor and snacking on what they’d been able to grab from the buffet table while the staff tried to keep people away from the mess Hearty had created.
“No, really!” Ventress said. “The biggest you’ve ever seen. Your version of Celestia is practically flat. Even my butt is nicer. Not that my butt isn’t nice.” She paused for a moment. “I’m waiting for you to compliment my butt, Oliver.”
“I really didn’t need to think about that,” Oliver mumbled.
Laurel had left them alone to have some alone time on their ‘date’ while he tried to figure out where Hearty had actually gotten to.
Hearty was apparently still on the run and had sent pictures of what seemed like the inside of air vents with no context and no explanation how he’d even fit inside without a forty-gallon drum of lubricant easing his passage.
“What, about your teacher, or about my butt? Because I know you really like at least one of those things~”
She reached over and ran a hoof along his thigh, her tail twitching.
“We still have business to finish, you know,” she whispered. “I bet we can find some quiet corner--”
The door slammed open with the exact amount of force that Oliver instinctively associated with someone coming to take his lunch money. He pushed Ventress under the table, trying to hide her while a fire-haired girl stormed in, her expression not at all matching the angelic costume.
“Where is he?” Sunset demanded. “Someone got a video of your buddy making that bean…” She trailed off, blushing when she saw Oliver’s face.
Ventress, concealed by the tablecloth and the angle, found herself at eye level with something very interesting.
“Penis!” Oliver yelped, as his fly was tugged open by teeth.
“Yes, that,” Sunset agreed. “So where is he? If I find out you guys used some kind of weird magic...”
Under the table, where the product of using weird magic was hidden from view thanks only to cheap black fabric, Ventress’ tongue slipped past the open zipper and pulled her rapidly-hardening prize free, starting to lavish it with attention.
“I don’t know!” Oliver cried out, shifting in his seat. He somehow resisted the urge to look down, keeping his eyes on Sunset and praying that she’d leave. His cock didn’t seem to mind, throbbing with sudden need that only grew with the fear of imminent discovery.
Ventress put her front hooves on his knees, pinning him in place while she licked at his cock, bringing him to full attention. When Oliver started to dribble excitement, she made a soft, pleased sound.
Sunset, ignorant to what was going on right in front of her, gave Oliver a hard look. “Fine. But if Principal Celestia finds him, he’s gonna be in trouble.”
“R-right,” Oliver said, nodding quickly, the bells on his hat jingling.
“Are you okay?” Sunset frowned. “You’re sweating and turning red.”
“It’s fine! Great!” Oliver cried out, as Ventress let her teeth touch his sensitive flesh just a little, tiny fangs making his cock jump in excitement and alarm.
“Ooookay,” Sunset said, under her breath. “I thought the thing about nerds being weird with girls was just a stereotype.”
Ventress bobbed her head down to Oliver’s base. He gasped and moaned, exactly the kind of sound one doesn’t make in polite company. Sunset glanced down slightly and saw something moving around his lap and made several incorrect assumptions.
“You know what, I’ll just find somewhere else to look!” Sunset yelled, fleeing and knocking over the skeleton as she ran, not wanting to know what Oliver was doing under the tablecloth.
“Are you crazy?!” Oliver asked, finally looking down at the Batpony with her muzzle buried in his crotch.
She wiggled her eyebrows and sucked harder, her tongue wrapping entirely around his shaft and moving back and forth, squeezing and trying to milk him of more of his salty seed.
Oliver grabbed at the tablecloth, unable to escape as she bobbed on his love stick like it was the sweetest lolly she’d ever tasted, basting it in attention, her lips pursing and squeezing with every motion.
“I-I’m gonna--!”
Ventress pushed herself down, the tip of his cock finding the sweet spot in her throat, popping into place just as Oliver peaked. He fired straight down into her belly, the batpony closing her eyes and taking every drop, suckling and making sure nothing had a chance to escape, her nose pressed into him until he finally started to soften.
She finally let him free, gasping for breath as the thick rod popped out of her throat.
“That was amazing,” Oliver said, the chair creaking. He felt like he was going to melt right down into it. Her technique had left him warm, sated, and as relaxed as if he’d spent an hour in the sauna. With how steamy things had gotten, the sauna comparison was more than just a little apt.
Ventress licked her lips, just to make sure no stray strands still painted her fur. “That’s because I’m the best.”
“And you’re glowing!” Oliver said, pointing.
Ventress looked at her hooves, already surrounded in an aura of glittering light. “I guess I must have done something right. I think the spell is sending me back!”
Laurel and Hearty picked that moment to walk in.
“What’s going on?” Laurel asked.
“You guys have to see this!” Oliver said. “It’s magic!”
“Really?” Hearty asked, rushing over.
Ventress vanished with a pop and a flash.
Hearty pulled the tablecover aside.
“Aw, dude!” He groaned, looking down at Oliver’s lap. “That’s gross.”
“Sorry,” Oliver said, zipping up.
“I think it went well,” Ventress said. Most of the foals had gone to bed, and the night was quiet again in the hours that hovered somewhere between being extremely late and being extremely early.
“I donno,” Pillow Talk said, shrugging as they prowled the misty twists of the town. “You really went into another world?”
“What’s so hard to believe about that?” Ventress asked. “It’s not the strangest thing that’s happened around here.”
“It just seems to me like you probably found some cute client you don’t want me to steal,” Pillow Talk said.
“Then how do you explain this?” Ventress asked. She held up her hoof. Wrapped around her fetlock was Oliver’s digital watch.
Pillow Talk leaned in to look, skeptical. Ventress pushed the button on the side, and the watch face lit up ghostly blue. The other pony gasped, shocked.
“That’s… that’s…” She struggled to find the right word. “That’s amazing! Where can I get one of those? I totally need one! How does it work?”
“Crystal magic,” Ventress said. “You can’t get one, though. I told you already, it’s from another world. You can’t get one unless you find a way to get there.”
“You could get me one next time.” Pillow Talk said. “Well you’re gonna go back, right?”
Ventress stopped, thinking. “Go back, huh?” She grinned. “That’s a good idea. I bet he’d pay extra if he had two mares taking care of him~”
Author's Note
For reference, Libellus Furvuum translates roughly to "Little Black Book"
