The Last Bronycon

Chapters

Saturday
Registration
Flasks
Thin Walls
Breakfast and Hangovers
Sandstone

Saturday

“Oh my gosh, Rarity!”

The medium height girl turned around and saw a pair of women, girls, really, looking as excited as anyone was meant to get, their extra weight making their bodies look akin to ice cream cones mid melt.

“Rarity, I love the suit! Can we get a picture?” the larger one asked. She had longer brown hair compared to her blonde friend. From inside her suit, Laura figured both girls were about the same age. It was always tough to tell. She glanced back and saw her boyfriend with a grin on his face, dressed in an open button down shirt with a pony cleaning her M-16 on the T shirt underneath. She nodded at him, showing she was fine and sauntered up to the two girls. She was quite petite, normally, but in this fursuit, the head made her feel topheavy, the hips were wide, as well. Rarity was nude, which was fine. Ponies went naked everyday. She walked up and held her hooves, her arms, out for a hug. She let the two hold her, their arms grabbing her close.

Laura opened her embrace and turned to her boyfriend, accepting a cellphone. “Alight, one, two, two and a half….” Tom spoke calmly and took pictures of Rarity, one hoof on her hip, the other holding a late teen by her side. Her other arm was a handle for the other friend. A half dozen pics of various poses were taken before Tom called it quits, returning the camera.

The young woman returned to her boyfriend of one month and let him peck at both of her furred cheeks, a half dozen inches from her face thanks to the suit’s big head. She giggled just loud enough for him to hear through her semitransparent eyes, her sight holes. She strutted along the convention center carpet towards the hotel. One flight of stairs and a skyway separated the couple from the adult panel about the state of pony porn in the fandom this evening.

They were at no place else but the Baltimore Convention Center, August third. This was the last Saturday of Bronycon, the very last one.

All weekend there was an air of sadness, of finality. This was the last episode of the show, the last movie of a trilogy, the last chapter of the book of Bronycon.

That was every excuse to make it an absolute banger.

Laura and Tom were together for a long time, but made it official just a month prior. They met through the nefarious channels of the internet, engaging in far too many kinky discussions and roleplays. A little work and Laura was cosplaying with the best of them. Her Rarity fursuit was expensive, but Tom was glad to help pay her way, his salary job able to buy her minky textiles and glossy, sexy eyes aplenty. What’s more, he loved to fuck that fursuit. What no one knew was that her legs came to a very, very form fitting shape at her groin, and the crotch was somewhat exposed. The girl had to keep her knees close together. Tom had creamed his precious little Rarity just last night. Today, they were excited to try her out on the masses.

Rarity’s ID was checked at the hall. She was barely twenty one. Tom, only three years senior, held her hoof as they made for the bar in the back, a half dozen mostly dark skinned hotel staff joked around. Surely underpaid. Tom ordered two heavy rum and cokes, begging they be strong: he was in the navy and drank accordingly, after all. It was odd how often that worked. Laura strutted with him to the back of the crowd as the panelists, voice actors and famous artists, discussed porn. Rarity snuck long sips when no one was looking by tilting her mask up and getting drinks. The fewer attendees knew she was actually a petite latina the better.

The discussion turned into two canon characters, father and son, having an “in character” discussion of the birds and the bees. The crowd was wild for Thorax and his dad to have “the talk”, with Ember weighing in.

After a few minutes, the discussion turned to something she thoroughly loved: cum. The couple took a seat, the mask was getting heavy. She sat upon the edge of the crowd, resting against her man.

What was too much? An average load seemed to be the bottom end of the spectrum, while filling a swimming pool was one of the seemingly more vanilla voice actresses’ supposed maximum. “I’d bathe in that fucking stuff!” Laura whimpered when she heard Ember say that. Tom glanced at her, making her blush as she recalled they had gotten wild with a few pounds of corn starch and bathwater. She giggled and bent down so Rarity could peck her boyfriend’s lips.

As she bent down, her round little ass was felt softly by a passing hand. It belonged to a rather unatractive, round bellied man. She let him walk on by. The fedora on his head didn’t even turn to look back at his victim. She didn’t share the groping with Tom. No reason. It was flattering, sort of. She leaned on him, letting her much more handsome boyfriend hold her hips. She was worried, however, that she had cheeto dust on her ass.

“Is it too early to go to the party?” Laura asked during a rum break, waiting on the next panel about who knew what.

Tom nodded and leaned in to peck her wet lips. “Yeah baby, it's only ten.” She slumped and pouted.

Registration

They arrived on Thursday, just in time for the bar crawl. Laura hung back with the stallions and mares at their suite in the Hilton hotel, a sky bridge from the convention hall, while Brook and Tom got to get rowdy with the other twenty somethings.

Friday, hangover notwithstanding, was a blast. Tom had converted his submarine coveralls and a leather jacket into quite the stable suit cosplay. Brook, also a vet, helped carry the flasks in his old Marine Corps camo cargos, his post-service fifteen pounds on his hips.

Laura had her mind blowing fur suit as well, the contours sleek, her “coat” silky and shiny, her mane and tail of felt over rigid plastic, her hooves broad and cute. The ponies loved it. They mocked her, walking on hind legs around the hotel room, drinking this disgusting, amazing stuff called beer and having fun amongst themselves, for now. Tom took the most adventurous unicorn, Diamond Express, on a backpack ride through the entire hall. Her adorable light yellow coat matched well with her shining silver mane.

They simply couldn’t risk the exposure, and his time serving taught him the importance of minimizing the spread of privileged information: the horses had to hide away if they wanted to stay.

At the first morning of the convention, they trio hung in the back of the halls, watching talking heads and horse famous idiots play on stage. Many dragged on, teary eyed about the convention coming to an end this year. They people watched, him holding her hoof out in line for endless bronies to hoofbump, laughed at the antics and jokes. The vendor halls, with endless woefully sexy or thankfully adorable, and outright epic, prints hung like a living art gallery and bazaar mixed together. Diamond demanded with a whisper in his ear they get a body pillow. Solitaire, the only pegasus mare, had a very similar appearance to one whiny alcoholic apocalypse survivor pony, Blackjack.

Two hundred dollars later, Diamond had another bag to hang out in. She was blushing, smiling and holding back her giggles, tucking into the naughty pillowcase and staring at those extra lines most the covers didn't have by the pony’s groin. And, oh, according to Diamond, everything was quite accurate. Brook had to split from the group for a minute during the transaction, shaking his head. Tom only laughed. Shame was for the weak.

The morning passed too quickly, and it was time to make a pit stop. The troupe retreated to the cosplay lounge so Laura could sit and breathe and hide from the hundred or so begging souls who needed pictures, the thousands who candidly snapped their own.

He joined her behind the curtain. Laura hoisted her adorable helmet off, her face flushed and wet with sweat. “Hun, you alright?" Tom asked in a hush, giving her a tall bottle of water. He wiped her face with a soft towel as she drank deep. She nodded and smiled, pulling his face in for a long, tongue first kiss.

“I need to change out of this for a while," she said quietly. “You've got my Cadence outfit with you still, right?"

“Do you think it's late enough in the day, Princess Candyass?" he asked in a low, doubting tone. A laugh could be heard from his big bag.

“That's what this skirt is for! “ a tiny female voice chirped. From the bag emerged a little light yellow unicorn in a seemingly fitting pink and white skirt. “I thought it was for me."

“You climb out, too, you're heavy," Tom said quietly. “And be quiet, there's others in here with us."

Diamond climbed out and stood on the table, her skirt nearly did fit. Tom helped her take it off and held it up. A tiny, tight skirt with frills on the hem hung in his hands, the split up the side nearly reaching the other hem. “Ya sure, Candy?“ he asked, looking at the girl in the surprisingly form fitting fur suit. She nodded

Tom helped her stand and unzipped her suit. “Look away," he ordered the unicorn, who rolled her eyes. Laura giggled.

“Normally naked anyway," Diamond Express sighed, flicking her long tail against his arm, a glance showed she indeed was naked. “I'm normally just about eye level with Grizzly's sack.”

“Jesus, “ Tom groaned. Laura exploded with laughter, biting her lip.”Later, slut,“ he hissed in her ear, pushing her second furry skin forward off her shoulders. He kissed her damp neck and stroked her soft arms, so warm, and stared at her little perky breasts. The man got down and helped her hips next, those little white panties so cute, her butt looking great since he got her a gym membership. He helped her out of her shoes and the hooves, got some fresh socks, and helped her into a little pushup bra. With her skirt, pink pumps, cutoff matching top, silly little wings, horns, and ears, the little woman was transformed into the princess of the frozen kingdom, Cadence.

“Candyass?" Diamond repeated.

Laura giggled. “I think Princess Cadence is really a huge adulterous slut who goes by Candyass. Come on, princess of love? More like princess of getting cream pies. Am I right?”

Diamond blushed crimson and snickered. “You gotta come to Equestria and hang out with us more," she said.

“You guys done? I gotta piss!”

Tom groaned. "Almost, Brook. Candy?” he asked. Laura nodded, taking a moment to fix her long, shiny, silky brown hair. Diamond used magic to help comb it and straighten her pony accessories.

“Can we take Rarity back upstairs?” she asked.

Tom nodded and hefted the big fluffy suit, keeping it inside out to minimize the looks they'd get, and to let it air out. “The horror!" Diamond laughed. Helping lift the head in her magic. Tom instantly grabbed her horn

"Quit it,” he hissed. Her blue magic glow stopped, and the pony dropped the pony head mask a foot, making a little thud. “Do you want to get found out?”

The blushing mare bit her lip, and Tom, too, felt his face grow red. “No," she sighed. “I'm sorry… just wanted to help."

Laura picked up the head and spoke. “Thanks, Diamond, really, and did you like that, him grabbing your horn? “

“No!”

“Hey, I'll meet you guys at the room, I'm at code yellow!” Brook called out. Tom laughed and held open his bag, Blackjack looking out with bedroom eyes.

“Bye forever," he called out, turning to Diamond. "And we'll talk more about that on the walk. Let's go.”

Laura giggled, and let everyone think Tom was the fursuiter as they walked across the sky bridge and went to the second to top floor. As they got in the elevator, an older, eccentric looking woman joined them, pleased to see her floor was selected. Once the door was shut, in a perfect imitation of the fashionable pony, she said: “Oh Celestia! My head, decapitated! Ah!" she squeaked. "At least I look fabulous as usual, darling. Did you craft this magnifique little ensemble?”

The duo scoffed, she was the real deal. “Are you Tabitha St Germain?“ Tom asked respectfully, hauling the suit more squarely on his shoulders.

The woman flipped her hand dismissively. “Oh please, I’m just a regular pony.” Her voice was still of the fashionable little white mare, the head of which Laura was holding like a trophy. They had ten floors to go, Tom noticed. He wished it were a hundred.

They weren’t star struck, not paralysingly so, and smiled eagerly as they continued the conversation. “I love your work, obviously,” Laura said.

“How’s Mortimer?” Tom asked.

The older woman screamed with laughter, holding her gut. She leaned back, bellowing with happiness, then bent over, chuckling hard. “Oh, that!” she said. “Oh, Mort is happy in his jar!” she said, flipping her wrist happily. “I cannot believe he’s still a celebrity,” she said, smiling. “Come here, I want a quick hug before you two precious little beans go on and have your whole lives,” she said, holding out her arms. Laura eagerly sucked her body close, hugging Rarity, Luna, and whoever else close. Tom shifted his haul to the opposite arm and hugged Tabitha on the side. She hugged the couple, sighing “so adorable.”

The couple shied away as the elevator dinged, at the second to top floor. Tabitha stepped into the hall and produced a cell phone. The couple posed for a selfie, and smiled as they departed, waving and singing goodbye. Tom made a note to check twitter or whatever later. He didn’t have one, but he’d see the picture eventually if he looked hard enough.

“I can’t believe that,” Tom said to his date as they walked on the hall.

“Who was that?” a little voice whispered in his ear.

The man shifted and let Diamond look over his shoulder as they neared the room. “That was Rarity.”

“What?”

Laura opened the door and walked into a scene similar to a football team watching film. Mares and stallions from equestria, six in total, lounged and sat on a bed and at the foot, in various states of cuddle. Mares had heads in laps, stallions sprawled out, some sat alone. They trained all their wide eyes on a television with the volume up. “Here,” he said, walking over to the pile of ponies and setting his bag on the bed behind him.

“Hey Tom, hi Laura, sup Diamond?” Grizzly asked, the stallion that found Tom, or more accurately vice versa.

“Hey there. Listen, her?” he said, pointing to the white mare on screen. “Listen to her talk! We MET her!”

The ponies shut up as Laura put away her amazing cosplay. “But I thought you waaaaaaaaaanted whiiiiniiing!” Nearly every pony chuckled.

“That’s the woman we met in the elevator,” Tom said in a hush to Diamond, letting her get cozy at his side. “Her voice actress, anyway.”

“So,” Bobcat said, the taller, slimmer stallion piping up. “I don’t get it. It’s like, recorded?”

“Just the voices, idiot,” Grizzly retorted, getting his cheek hoofed. He laughed and pushed off the bed and onto the other guard, sending him and a mare on his lap to the floor. They wrestled, taking turns getting into and slipping out of headlocks, largely ignored.

“But, who made this, um, footage?” Diamond asked, looking up with her big grey eyes.

Tom put his hand on her shoulder and returned his eyes to the show as Laura sat on his other side, making him put his hand on her hip. “Drawings, in succession. Put together, they make an animation, the mouths move and people record their voices, sort of like lip synching.”

The stallions stopped fighting, and most every pony let out an “oooh” of understanding. Griz still had a confused look on his face. It was wiped off by a rear hoof pushing his head into the carpet.

“Have you ponies checked out the other room?” Laura asked. “We have two, you know.”

A few shrugged, most ignored her. They were content to absorb the show the humans knew them by. It was pretty entertaining, anyway, and they were starting to wrap up season one.

Tom gave his girlfriend a peck on her forehead and sat up. “Think you’ll be up for the of age panel tonight, hun?” he asked, drumming a tune on his coveralls.

She shrugged, her Cadence cosplay hiking up high on her thighs. “I’ll go if you’re with me,” she said, smiling.

“Well,” said Brook, slurring as he walked in through the door, “I’m gonna hang out and teach these horses how to drink.” He grinned and got up, sauntering over to the mini fridge and pulling out a liter and three quarters of rum, Mount Gay, on Tom’s recommendation. Not much beat authentic pirate grog. Also, as a military man, anything with “gay” in the name was worth its weight in gold.

Tom laughed and sat up, stroking the woman’s bare thigh and kissing her deep when she too sat up. He hopped to his feet and sent himself to the bathroom as half a dozen ponies queued up for drinks. Brook brewed up such masterpieces as rum and coke, coke and rum, and straight rum for the stallions and mares to sample. A true slice of human bartending masterpieces for the foreign cultures to digest.

They loved it regardless.

Griz, Bobcat, and the other guard pony Long Haul did shots while the rest suffered strong mixes, laughing together.

The door shut behind the sailor. Tom found himself in the hotel bathroom with Laura, locked the door, and shoved her into the wall tongue first. He groaned into her mouth and held her body close, her own hands gracing his sides and hips and face, pulling him in. He groaned deep, sighing, breathing deep with her. He stood up tall, his hard cock stiff in his low effort cosplay, against her body.

“Wait,” she panted, pushing on his face, looking away as the door handle jiggled.

“Takin’ a shit,” he shouted, laughing silently with her. They ignored a muffled “Motherfucker!”

Tom kissed her neck and hoisted her leg over his hip as she said again, “wait, Tom!” She breathed the words, but they got him to stop.

“What?”

“They’re right there! And besides, Brook’s gonna kick the fucking door down.”

“Not if he doesn’t wanna shit his pants with the effort,” he replied, starting to zip his coveralls up from the bottom, such a convenient feature. It was one of very few things the United States navy got right.

Laura pushed his face away and sighed. “No, not right now. I fucking want to,” she hissed, “but we really should wait. Besides, how hot would it be to come back after the panel, talking about horsecock all night?”

He laughed and let her down. “Ah, fine. Since I like you, I guess,” he said, nose touching hers, breath spilling into her mouth as much as hers swirled into his. He closed his eyes and kissed her deep. She moaned into his lips and held his face, knuckles white.

He pushed her away, her head thudding into the wall, her smile wide, her breath shallow. “It’ll be so fucking awkward getting out of here,” he said, laughing.

“Yeah,” she said. “We-”

“Code brown, man! Hurry up!”

Tom didn’t hesitate. He spun around and pulled the door open rapidly. “Go go, get out!” he said, pulling Laura by her hand and shoving her out the door. Some things were not meant to be taken lightly.

Author's Note

I don't usually make notes, but this information would break the flow of the story, yet would do a wonderful service to the reader.

Author’s note: In the United States submarine service, and such a veteran would suppose in every nation's underwater or supremely less capable and deadly surface navy, fewer things were more serious than a “code brown”.

This meant the caller was about to poop his pants.

Now, if one were to commit such an uncouth act, one normally could retire to the bathroom for a few precious seconds. This is not so on a warship. Manning a space was of upmost importance, yes, more important than that, and failure to do so could at best result in a critique, the lessons learned spread across the entire fleet in a hilarious anonymous report. If a casualty or other unfortunate happening were to occur during the watchstander’s absence, God only knows what would happen to the poor sailor who left their post. Thus, “code brown” was a sacred phrase, reserved for the most dire of circumstances. It was heeded with the same respect as a fire, or flooding, though one couldn’t quite make the report over the same “formal channels”. The engineroom of a submarine had no such bathroom facilities, and a watch relief was relied upon to allow a sailor the opportunity to defecate safely. Code “brown” was obviously the magic words used to call for a rapid relief.

So, when Brook called out those words, a primal part of Tom’s brian forced his hand. The reader would be pleased to know that Brook made it, though it was a photo finish.

Flasks

Candy, Tom, Brook, and the backpack-bound Solitaire headed out later that night, skipping out on season three. Bets were made between the ponies about the outcome well before they left. The thin unicorn was light on his back. He elected to not wear the coverealls and leather jacket this time, just jeans and a pony T, though Laura kept her sexy outfit on. They walked close, with Solitaire watching reverently from her perch.

They went first into the twenty-one and older panel where amature authors were talking of how to write erotica. Tom looked to Laura with a knowing smile, she only shrugged. The topics were pretty basic stuff, including ideal story length, dick jokes about the word length, avoiding cliches and run-on sentences, sentence length, more laughs about the word, and so on. There was no structure at all, and the Q and A was a glorified advertisement for their own work by some of the attendees. Laura and the bunch enjoyed long pulls from packed away flasks, rum and whiskey and, for some god awful reason, Jägermeister. Brook had a peculiar taste.

They left with the crowd, stopping for selfies with a random Shining Armor cosplayer, the pony, and a disgusted looking Cadence outside the hall. They meandered across the bridge to the convention center and people watched as the sun set. The Orioles had won, and the army of orange shirts across the street was flowing away from the stadium like an overturned bucket. Tom loved how the convention was next door to a baseball game: the contrast between the awkward, smelly, typical fedora and cheeto dust brony was a fantastically stark contrast to the beer drinking, lawn mowing, baseball game enjoying dad and his wifes. The “normal” folk got a free costume show, and the shirtless black guys with megaphones shilling water and ballcaps raked in hundreds of crumpled dollars.

He loved it.

“Think I could get into the gala like this?” Laura asked as they lounged in a corner and watched fursuiters pose for pictures. One guy even had a suit of plastic and fiberboard power armor, with a mockup mini gun, what a badass!

He looked to her and smiled. “Oh yeah,” he said, looking at her cleavage. “You’d get in no problem. That dress is adorable.”

“Aw, thank you!”

“Yeah,” Brook said, sipping from his flask. “I can’t count how many guys stopped what they were doing to stare.”

“She likes it,” Tom injected.

He got a slug on the arm for that one.

“They were wrong,” a tiny voice whispered. Tom looked over his shoulder and lifted the whiskey to Solitaire’s mouth, offering a drink. She blushed slightly and declined.

Carefully, Tom set her down in the huddle, hidden mostly from prying eyes. She curled up in the drawstring bag, hiding her hooves under her body, her head poking out quite adorably. “How so?” asked Brook, directly in front of the little lanky mare. She was just big enough for perhaps Laura to ride, or a smaller human, and if she straightened her legs, Solitaire would barely grace the petite woman’s waist with her ears perked up, standing tall.

She answered. “About dicks,” she said, giggling a little. “Horsedicks, I mean. They’re not as big as humans say.”

“Well,” Laura laughed, looking to Tom. He thought she was screaming on the inside. “I mean, regular, non-little ponies have pretty huge dicks.”

“Yeah, but those creatures weigh hundreds of pounds, over a thousand,” Brook said. “Solitaire’s maybe thirty, likely less.”

She nodded, her big yellow eyes darting around the wide open room they were hiding in. “I don’t know what a pound is, for weight, at least.” She swallowed. “So, if Laura is five feet like you said, there’s no way a stallion is, his dick I mean,” she said it easily, but still paused to smirk childishly, as if the word was a speed bump being worn down with traffic. “It’s not even close to two or three feet, that’s insane. Maybe like, half of one.”

“We oughta ask the guys, maybe snag a ruler,” Tom said, taking another drink. Laura took the flask from him before he could get seconds, drawing deep herself. She winced as she swallowed, closing the flask and giving it to Brook, now owner of all three.

She leaned in close to Tom’s ear, body over Solitaire, and whispered: “You’re not getting whiskey dick tonight, god dammit.”

He laughed and gave her a quick peck on her ear, letting her sit back. Brook and Solitaire gagged.

Thin Walls

The trio with their “plushie” on Tom’s back toured the convention for a little longer, as long as the veteran could stand. His eyes drifted to that little latina on his arm, specifically down her dress. She touched his arm, accidentally brushing her chest against him, bumping his hips as they walked. She was sending quite a few signals, few subtle.

He abandoned Brook on his quest for sandwiches, convincing him to go solo and grab a whole bunch for the group upstairs, ensuring he got veggie options for the hooved friends. Tom and Laura had to fight not to run across the bridge and to the elevators.

Inside, they rode, regretfully, with a trio of drunk men. But as they departed several floors before their destination, Tom and Laura instantly threw themselves at each other. Laura grabbed his face and shoved her tongue right into his mouth, and Tom lifted her body off the floor by her round ass. She had some amazing curves below, which were slammed into the wall of the elevator. He groaned in her mouth and pushed her head away, leaving her chin wet and her chest rising and falling rapidly.

He kept attacking her little body, groping the little woman he owned wholly, feeling her little breasts through her soft, silky dress. She clutched his head and whined out as his fingertips tucked under her skirt and pulled at the soft skin of her upper thigh, until the ding of the elevator said they were at their floor.

Tom put the little latina girl down and fixed her skirt, then wiped the lipstick from his face.

“That was hot,” Solitaire said flatly. Tom whipped his head around as the door opened, and broke into a pained laugh.

“I, I forgot-”

“Oh my god-” Laura hid her face.

Tom took her hand and led her into the modern, and thankfully empty, hall, fixing his hair and making sure Laura was presentable. “It’s not that awkward,” Solitaire said, giggling. “Guess I am good at pretending to be a plushie.”

Laura laughed with Tom and fixed her face.

“I wonder what the ponies are up to,” the woman said, her tone acknowledging and transitory, desperately so.

Opening the door revealed a war zone. A pillow was hurtling towards the trio, hitting the open door and falling harmlessly to the floor. Tom shrugged the bag off his leather-clad shoulder and handed it to Laura, Solitaire squeaking at the sudden transfer. He plucked up the pillow and stomped in, roaring, a pillow smacking his face, another whirling up to hit his groin. The solid, medium height, combat boot wearing human groaned and fell forward, taking out a stallion in his grasp and throwing the solid little horse into the bed, knocking over a pair of giggling mares. Laura ducked into the room cautiously, joining a few ponies hiding in the joined suite.

The fugitive group mingled, Diamond Express curled up with High Seas on the bed, a petite little blue pegasus mare.

On the tv was the episode where Rainbow Dash joins the wonderbolts. High Seas had glowing, watery eyes, so happy for her favorite character. Diamond couldn't get over the uniforms and how tight they were.

Solitaire climbed out of the bag, the tall mare stretched her legs quite like a cat, making Laura inclined to pet her, so she did. The unicorn smiled dumbly, her ears flipped and twitched, her eyes became unfocused as a little hand scratched in her soft mane. Laura giggled and laid on the bed with the girls, cuddling with Solitaire, her head resting in the flank of Diamond.

“So, I, like, get that its a kids show, “ Diamond started, making Laura look up from Solitaire's belly rubs. “But anyone else just, really, really think some of these girls are hot? “

The group giggled as something crashed next door. Laura regretted not bringing something to drink. “Uh, Cadence?" she said, gesturing to herself, as if reminding everyone the sky was blue. That got a few nods and mumbles of agreement.

Solitaire lifted her head as she sat snuggled up on Laura's lap. "I would pay to watch Rarity lift her tail, I bet she's the kind who's prim and proper, but get a glass of wine and she'll get the leather collars and riding crops.”

“Kinky," Laura said, reaching down and stroking her silky soft fur. “I thought you ponies were into all that stuff just like we humans are. You girls ever try bdsm?" she said, biting her lip, glancing at the shut door and hoping Tom would come through, fulfill a very big need, oh god, what if he brought the collar they packed?!

“Fuck yeah-”

“Fuck no-”

Diamond and High Seas looked at each other, blushing lightly, and laughed. It seemed the blue pegasus was either lying about how kinky she was, or just a newbie to the kink scene.

Just as Solitaire was beginning to thump her hoof on the sheets from the perfect scratching, there was a knock on the joining door, and Grizzly, the maroon stallion, stuck his head in. “Hey, Brook got us dinner, y'all want some?”

“Yeah!” High Seas said, and hopped right up, making the other girls laugh. Solitaire got up and laid prone in the plush white sheets, grumbling.

“Too much to drink? “ Laura asked, remembering the flask sips she had snuck the mare.

She nodded, curling up under the remaining pillow on the edge of the bed. “You'll be okay," Laura said, getting up, lifting her tiny skirt and fixing her panties, they had gotten a little too tight after getting wet. She sighed, feeling the heat of herself through the fabric, and just wished she and Tom could be whisked away to a quiet little place and make that hideaway nice and loud.

She swallowed and entered the next room. The pillow war had ended, there were many casualties. Tom was working on fixing the telephone that had gotten knocked off the edge while stallions and mares tucked into veggie sandwiches. Brook’s was full of meat.

Laura took a veggie sandwich and sat on the couch with the other ponies, gladly letting Grizzly get cozy. She winked down at the stallion, laying a cucumber slice on her long tongue. She smiled when he gulped and shifted his hips just a little.

Tom sat hard next to her on the other side and kicked his boots off. Something about it, the idea of a man kicking off his dusty boots after a long, hard, sweaty day of bread winning appealed to her. She didn't like to consider herself dependent, but it was still a nice thought.

She gladly laid on his side, tucked under his heavy arm, listening to him breathe. He dipped his face and kissed her head. She sat up and smiled, pulling her hair behind her ear. She went back to eating and watching the tv, thankfully, something other than my little pony. Brook had put on the cult classic Rocky Horror Picture Show, and now Brad and Janet were getting rained out. She giggled, knowing the slice of culture these ponies were in for.

“So," Brook said, taking another drink of whiskey. “We were talking earlier. You stallions, how big, ya know, do ya get? A foot?"

Grizzly laughed as Bobcat lifted his head, a pillow falling off the bed. “Uh," he laughed more.

Bobcat stood and shook off the blankets, yawning and stretching. ”Whats a foot?" the yellow stallion asked.

“What are we talking about? “ Grizzly asked, smiling as his chin was scratched by the lovely princess.

“Dicks,” Tom said with automatic ease.

“How big are stallion dicks?" Brook asked flatly. “There's jokes horses have huge dicks."

“They do,” Laura said matter-of-factly.

Grizzly and bobcat laughed, glancing at each other. Tom thought he saw a dagger or two fly through the air. “I'm bigger," Bobcat said, also as if it were plain fact.

“Than a baby, mine’s like a baby's hoof," Grizzly shot back.

“Yeah, just the hoof maybe.” Tom thought of a horse with a hoof, and just the hoof, needing to shake his head to free his poor mind of the image.

“Just answer the question, you two, “ Laura purred, stroking Grizzlys back. He sat down and leaned against her again.

He sat up tall and looked at his belly. Laura followed his gaze and fought not to squirm. She did stare. Between his legs, resting on his tail under him, was a plump looking sack. She guessed it was about the same size as Tom's, recalling the last time she got to touch it. The stallion had a wrinkled, dark red pouch of skin. He wasn't very shy about it at all.

“About….. Here? It gets about that long.” He was holding a hoof about a third of the way up his belly. Laura touched the point his hoof met his belly. He took his hoof away, so everyone could see. She wagered the distance was a healthy, soreness inducing ten inches, perhaps. Brook was right, they needed a ruler. She was swallowing every two seconds, just about ignoring the song and dance number. “How about you guys? Do humans have small penises or something?"

Brook shrugged. Tom just answered plainly. "Yeah. I had to buy an adapter so I don't pee on my balls.”

Laura erupted with laughter, holding her sides, sending Grizzly back. She fell into Tom's lap and sighed, hugging her man tight.

Tom drank a bottle of water as she cuddled with him and Grizzly, the great question answered for now. She liked to stroke his soft silver mane. The cuddleable stallion curled up in her lap. As she was beginning to sing along with the first big number, Tom leaned down and whispered in her ear. He could be reading a takeout menu, her spine would still tingle. What he said was enough to make her mouth water. "I'm taking you to the next room and locking that fucking door.”

She bit her lip to keep herself quiet. She got up and excused herself, patting grizzly on his head.

She went into the opposite room’s bathroom and waited, panting, legs ajar, shivering as she waited for her man. On her mind wasn't his amazing cock, it was the potential of those two stallions. She longed to play with their jewels, make their dicks spill from those sheaths, stroke the soft, heavy, cute length til he was ridgid, flaring, cumming, oh god her body was on fire for horse-

Suddenly, the door was open. “I think they all know I'm in here fucking you, so let's just get started," Tom said, opening his jeans, standing in the doorway to the bathroom. His snug t-shirt showed his efforts over the year at the gym. She smirked and shivered looking at him.

“I want you, “ was all she could mutter. Tom took her hand and didn't help her up as much as pull her body to his. He didn't even kiss her as he laid her down on the empty suite’s bed, rapidly yanking off his shirt and jeans with practiced ease. She barely had her skirt hiked up before his nude body was on hers, fingers rubbing her panties. Laura was in bliss that she only needed to pull the fabric aside. She tried to be quiet. Her squeaks and moans likely didn't seep into the other room, or she hoped. She closed her eyes as he touched her with that hot body, his calloused hands on her thighs. The walls were paper thin, who cared?!

He took her. One finger inside her little pussy, two, curling and squeezing her spot, oh that perfect spot. She dug her nails into his back and inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.

“Like that, Candyass?" he grumbled in her ear, letting her go and moving up over her.

“Fuck me deep, like the princess of sex deserves. Give it to me!" she hissed in his ear. She giggled, licking her teeth. “Ah, like that limp dicked husband of mine could never do!”

Then, suddenly, all her lights popped. Her body was falling through space, his thick cock was entering her, and time stood still for a second. The pleasure was so teased, her anticipation so built up, she enjoyed an orgasmic explosion the instant he sank in fully, cock pushing her cervix, hips on hers. She had a dozen little spasms as he thrusted, dragging her from that amazing place and giving her more pleasure.

“Fuck, I haven't fucked in so long, I'm not gonna last very long, “ he panted.

“I don't care, I just came I think, I want more, give it to me! “ she huffed. They rocked, his thrusts hard and slow, punishing her for making him wait so long.

“I fucking love your pussy, princess," he whispered. It was so easy to call her that, she was a sweet little girl, his princess, his sex toy.

She laughed and moaned softly, stroking his back with her long pink nails. “Fuck me, baby, ah, fuck that pussy, ooooooh give it to me!”

“You want it on your face?” he asked, standing tall on his knees and driving down into her. Even in the dim light, she loved the shape of him. He wasn't an olympian, but he didn't have that veteran beer gut. Nice lean body with strong arms, what wasn’t to like? Oh, and his big white cock. Shame it was cut.

She laughed and moaned, reaching up to stroke his arms as he came down to rest his hands by her face, elbows locked. His thrusts were getting so brutally fast, she loved how he made the bed and her body rock, recoil, squirm. “Turn… turn the light on.”

Tom planted a wet sucking kiss on her neck, getting her giggling again. She sighed as he exited her, leaving her empty, slightly sore, wanting more. She rubbed her wet clitoris as she waited, eyes shut.

When there was a dim flick and a slight red glare through her eyelids, Laura cracked her eyes as she felt the weight of his body return.

“Oh," she got to say before his long, pussy-smelling, cut cock to her lips, hand in her soft dark hair. She groaned and looked up as his weight pressed down, letting him in, eyes full of his sexy midsection. He didn't quite have that six pack he was working on, but Tom was plenty sexy for a twenty-eight year old. He, too, groaned as his long cock dipped into that wet, soft mouth, tongue swirling over the skin.

Tom stroked her cheek with a thumb as he rocked his hips gently. He pulled free and used her saliva for lube to masturbate. He groaned and stroked hard, dipping his two balls into her lips. The little lipstick left came right off onto his skin.

She stroked his hard, hairy thighs, spreading her knees wide, wishing she could have a hundred clones of him to pleasure. She trembled and looked up hungrily as he grunted. "Give me the pillow, “ she said, fixing her long hair, so ready to get painted. She bit her lip hard, eyeing a big bead of precum. She held his legs planted, keeping him in front of her, making sure he saw her lap that drop up.

Oh god, she missed this taste so much.

Tom reached over, and staring down at her, snagged the pillow in a firm grip. As he brought it near, there was a sound like a squeak. “Don't worry, I ain't gonna hit ya like the other ponies, Candy. I've got a nice cumsho-”

“That wasn't me, “ Laura said.

Laying with hooves crossed over her head laid Solitaire, her long black and red tail hiked high in the air.

“Fuck," Tom grumbled, getting up and rapidly slipping his pants back up, very careful of his groin as he zipped it up. Laura fixed her outfit and they hovered near the door. Tom took his underwear and stuffed it in a pocket, shit in his other hand.

They stood.

“Did you see everything?" she asked softly. Solitaire slowly lifted her head and nodded, gulping.

“I…. Um… won't tell.”

“The others know we're in here, “ Laura said quietly.

The silence was crushing.

At last, Laura slipped into the bathroom and fixed herself in the mirror, as Tom stood, rubbing his neck. “Uh, I didn't know, ah, you…”

Solitaire’s face matched half her mane." It's okay, I was under the..."

The door opened and Tom was pulled through.

The first thing Tom saw when he came back through to the first suite were the stallions he nearly tripped over. Long Haul, the vivid blue earth pony stallion, and Sparkchaser, a much less bulky and pastel dark blue unicorn, were stumbling from the bathroom, Spark had quite a limp. Two ponies, Diamond and High Seas, stumbled in after, tongues in each others mouths.

On the couch sat Brook, two stallions busy using his face as a canvas. Across his forehead was a crude yet detailed cock of horse anatomy, the veins being filled in with magic marker by Grizzly. The man's chin had another, quite better in quality thanks to Bobcats skill. In his lap was the three empty flasks.

“Guys," was all Tom thought to say, suddenly aware of his aching balls, thanks to a giggling stallion using his head to lift them. He simply pet Sparkchaser on his drunk cheek as Laura laughed. The television was going on about a time warp.

"Huh. Ponies fucking party.” Laura hugged her boyfriend from the side, stepping away from a mess dribbling down from a cute little limp horsecock.

Breakfast and Hangovers

Laura and Tom slept in the opposite room alongside the adorably shy Solitaire. They couldn’t resume after the interruption, it was just a little too much of a show stopper. The pony’s kinky side was known to her, but Laura was tired enough to simply cuddle with her, pajamas on, of course. When the three woke, Diamond and High Seas were sticking their little heads above the covers between their human hosts. They had sex on their breath, waking the ex sailor at the first beams of morning light entering the window. Military life had ruined his internal snooze button. After five hours of sleep, he was up.

He walked to the bathroom and took a nice hot shower, exiting in a towel to a blushing Solitaire. She smiled sheepishly and stepped in after him. “Uh, need help?" he asked quietly.

The squeak that left her lips reminded him very much of last night.

“Not like that." he sighed though the palm on his face.

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I'll figure it out. Um, thank you Tom…. And… you're… “ Waiting for her to make words was insufferable to the grumpy man. “Bigger. Than stallions."

She kicked the door shut, giving an accidental glimpse at her adorable little sex. The resulting slam triggered his fight or flight response, and he had a subconscious urge to shout at the unindoctrinated newbie. It was followed by a deep subconscious desire to harm himself for thinking those thoughts. He was off the submarine. Noises were okay. Noises were okay… He laughed silently to himself and walked towards his clothes.

Tom looked at the bed and saw three sleeping females, all in tates of disassembly. He smiled and dropped his towel. No one stirred.

The man slipped some clean underwear and gym shorts on, then a pony shirt and, lastly, his watch, every bit a part of his attire as his socks. The thing had done two tours on a KC-130 on his friend’s wrist, and three deployments at test depth on a Los Angeles class submarine. It was the cause of his tanline and his timeliness. He tied his shoes and passed the comatose Brook in the neighboring room, his cheeks had labels of whose cock was who’s, with tally marks for votes. Bobcat won, which would explain the two stallions tangled in a hoof fight, sleeping on the floor. The human was spooning Sparkchaser, pants on.

He filled a bottle of water and snuck it in his friends grip before he left, getting two cool glasses himself.

The gym was on the second floor, and was unsurprisingly empty and lacking. A quarter mile on the treadmill answered the question “am I too hungover to run?” with a pounding in his head on every step. He stepped off and got sixty pound weights off the rack. He warmed up with pushups, then benched the free weights, the heaviest they had, and luckily, his current max. It was impossible in his current state, so he downloaded to fifties. The man sat up and moved on to lunges, skull crushers, and more pushups. With a shrug, he also did a few curls, never really working up much more than a light sweat. It still felt great to get the blood pumping some. He wiped off and left the room, just as he found it.

Out walked the man onto the street, shades to lessen the seven o’clock hangover, on a mission for chorizo and orange juice. If there was champagne in it, so be it.

Tom got his wish at a nice little cafe, only a few rainbows in sight, and walked back full and proud with two orders to go. He picked up a bottle of juice and vodka on his way back as well.

Exiting the elevator of the hotel were two bleary eyed, mildly obese men who, he could tell, neglected to shower. The ponies on their shirts were faded and the designs cracking. These shirts had seen years of wear, perhaps weeks of sun. He smiled and greeted them, they warmly replied and followed on. The air in the elevator had a tint of anguish, not from the bodies but from the setting, perhaps the liquor leftover on their breath. He got time to think about the convention, it's final chapter. He, too, felt a bit somber. It was all the more reason to get drunk and wild, he thought with a smile.

Brook, Spark, and the guard unicorns hadn’t moved. In the less destroyed room, Solitaire was brushing her long mane, looking quite adorable with her body and tail in a towel each. "Morning, cutie,” he said, completely unsure why he said that.

“You better mean me,” Laura said, sitting up, her little breasts in a black tank top. Her little nipples were sticking up, and he had a hard time not dropping everything and sucking on them. He swallowed and walked up, giving her morning mouth a kiss and setting her breakfast on the table.

“Ohmygodiloveyou” she sighed, taking a big burrito and taking a bite, groaning like he was fucking her. The other mares were beginning to stir, and Long Haul was hobbling in.

The stallion yawned a “Mornin’," smiling satisfiedly. He took to the bathroom and slammed the door, making Tom clench his fist and Laura giggle. She snuggled into his side as she sat up, well aware of his malady.

“Last night was amazing," she mumbled softly. “Sorry you didn't cum."

“He might be the only one," Diamond purred, rolling over, her head in Laura's lap. “Hey, Solitaire. Who's bigger, men or stallions?”

She simply blushed and nibbled her hoof, looking away.

“I wouldn't mind finding out, “ the older mare continued, rolling onto her front and standing, stretching like a kitten. Tom wanted equal parts to shove her for the casual language about something private, and stroke her adorable back. She advanced and reached over Laura to touch the man’s leg. The girl’s free hand gripped her tight at the knee, knuckles white, death in her eyes.

“If you like walking on four legs, you're gonna never, ever touch my boyfriend again.”

The mare slowly took her hoof away, when allowed to. “Wow. Little firecracker. I was a lot like you when I was in my twenty somethings, “ Diamond giggled, sitting her round flanks down.

Laura closed her eyes and smiled cutely, rubbing her head on his chin, resting on his chest. “Mine," she sighed. It was as if she hadn’t even threatened to break someone’s leg. He gave her a kiss on her forehead and stood, facing her, his plumped cock right in front of her eyes. It didn't take much, being so pent up.

“So, what do we wanna do tonight?" he asked, letting three mares, well, female mammals, stare. He felt like the guy in a cheap porno. A glance confirmed that, through shorts, he was showing that erection.

Laura just stared at it. Solitaire unwrapped her tail and brushed that now, smirking and looking away. Diamond giggled as High Seas came and gave her a little nuzzle and peck. “I wanna learn about bad dragon," the sleepy pegasus said.

On cue, the bathroom door opened, the sink still running. "I can't reach the knob to turn it off,” Long Haul said, shaking his thankfully wet hooves alternately. ”But I learned all about Bad Dragon last night with Spark and Brook! Before he passed out and we got distracted. Uh, it's a site with TONS of weird dildos!”

The mares giggled. The humans were still in slight shock. Laura gulped and took a large bite of her breakfast, any excuse to keep quiet. “Like, dog, horses, dragon, like, weird stuff I've never heard of. And they sell fake jizz! It's lube or something. Brook said he had tons back in Denver. Wherever that is. It sounds like some of these humans are into some kinky shit. Like fucking ponies and getting fucked by them, too, “ he laughed. Laura just kept chewing slowly, all eyes on her, then the focus shifted to Tom. He had no burrito to chew.

“Hey,” he said, the awkwardness was a fog in the air. “People are into weird shit. Those guys are just making a profit on the weirdos.” He kept quiet about the two dildos he and Laura had in her other bag, not to mention fake cum and all sorts of goodies.

The ponies took that as answer enough, and dissolved to mingle and finish off the last two sandwiches, the lettuce limp.

Brook was too hungover to be furious. He took the main bathroom, in the room next door, for more than an hour, scrubbing his face and emptying his stomach, Tom couldn’t tell from which end by the noise. Most of the other ponies mumbled and grumbled and got to their hooves. The time ticked by and Tom got… bored. He ordered room service, doughnuts with sprinkles, willing to cut into his savings and bet on getting that new job soon.

When it came, he was back in his coveralls and working on his greaser hairdo. Laura decided to do just a bit of fur suiting, and was wearing the whole Rarity ensemble as Grizzly got cozy in her lap, watching the glory that was Princess Twilight struggle with her new wings. Bobcat vouched for the accuracy, while Grizzly disputed it outright.

Distracted by donuts, Tom took Laura into the next room and locked the door. He checked the big white bed for any hiding ponies this time. Tom rubbed her groin, the fashionista holding her hooves above her head. He stroked and pushed and searched, and finally found the very well hidden slit. In went two fingers, touching her white panties.

He pulled the satin to the side and got his fingers wet, making her arch her back and moan. “Sore?" he asked quietly. She nodded. The man pulled his fingers free and licked them clean, his cock rock hard. He unzipped his coveralls up from the groin and produced his cock, stroking, not too fast as the zipper teeth were accurately named, biting his skin as he drew back. He zipped up further and adjusted, and they were no longer a problem.

The man breathed hard and spread those legs wide, letting her hooves curl behind his back. He pulled himself close and was extra careful not to get precum on the velvet. He closed his eyes and felt inside the fabric slit, found her vulva, and pushed.

“Oh, yes,” Laura hissed, hugging him tight as that tool slipped all the way inside her liquid velvet tunnel. She giggled, and asked in character: “Want me to moan like a lady, darling?”

With a smirk, Tom stood tall on his knees and pulled her wide hips to him, diving his cock deep inside with a shove. “Ah, yeah, that might be hot,” he said, sucking a breath and railing down into her, making her gasp.

“Oh, darling, that’s the spot, yes!” she said, her impression hardly convincing.

It was too much, and Tom had to laugh. He laid on her and made his thrusts deep and slow, gentle, so much more intimate. “Ah, alright, that’s enough, Rares,” he said, bucking her deep and fast, too good to patiently fuck her. Besides, she was sore, and he didn't want to take too long. She was so wet, so hot, he sighed and hugged her body, needing to pull his face out of the way of her mask. He pushed it up and helped her pull it off, immediately giving her naked face a deep kiss.

“I need to get dolled up.”

“Ah, I’ll give you a pearl necklace.”

“Fuck, give me a fucking creamy snack, baby,” she moaned, tossing her head to the side and wincing, smiling, then wincing again. “God, so fucking thick,” she hissed.

Tom shivered and rapidly pulled out, the pressure in his gut came much too fast. No time to talk, he hooked a thumb in her mouth and pumped his load right onto her tongue. Her brown eyes looking up were too gorgeous, too perfect, she was full of obedient energy and it just fueled him all the more. He grunted, his orgasm lasting nine hard shots of white, thick cum. He stroked the last bits out, letting her hold it on her tongue. “Ah, good girl,” he sighed, standing tall on his knees. “Drink it, Rarity, fucking cumslut.”

Laura obeyed and, panting, smiling ear to ear, showed off her "clean" throat. “That was so fucking hot,” she said, panting, twitching some.

“God, you’re telling me,” he sighed, laying back, tucking his cock away. He let Rarity lay with him, her big hoof on his chest. “You know how much I love watching you gulp and show off after. Ah... Wanna get that face painted up for Candy and go see the chaos?” he asked casually, laying snugly with her, in no sort of hurry to get anywhere.

She shook her hair out of her face, tried to pull it behind her ear with her hoof, and pouted. Tom helped and gave her a smile, she returned it warmly, face absolutely glowing. “In a minute,” she giggled. “I should probably digest some.”

Sandstone

The humans were one of a very select few that knew a big, big secret: ponies were real.

Of course horses existed long as man, longer according to the scientific minded, but these ponies were different. With plenty of variance, stallions typically stood about four feet tall, mares typically three feet and some change, with colorful coats and manes, adorable little hooves, unique cutie marks, big bright eyes, swishy tails, even horns and wings in some. Even better, they were here. A bold few even managed to sneak out, disguised as plushies in backpacks, but not for long. The dozen or so ponies desired to keep themselves secret.

The year prior to the fateful convention, during a week of leave, Tom was on a kayaking venture in rural Montana, where horses often roam wild, and set off from a tributary to the Missouri river. He and a friend made their way a hundred miles from nowhere to nowhere, stopping for dinner on the bank. They built a fire and cracked their beers, settling in for the night. As the sun began to lower in the smoky sky, Tom set off to look at a cave. He had graffiti in mind as he carried his charcoal tipped stick with him in one hand, beer number four in the other. As he neared it, the sandstone wall looking more and more like a canvas, he felt a strange, warm, tooth-dissolvingly sweet breeze. He kept creeping through thick, dry, pokey, clingy bush.

The woody, high vegetation cleared a dozen feet from the cave. Only lichens lived in the shade. Suddenly, there was a deep humming. He felt for his buck knife, but it was at the shore. He cursed inwardly, the strapping man with short hair set his drink and natural spray paint aside. He continued on.

He made it to the precipice of the cave and realized, not surprisingly, he wasn't the first one here. Drawings of horses littered the wall, as well as other symbols. A ball, or circle, or sun, or something, horse shoes in a weirdly cartoon style. “Fuckin natives?" he wondered to himself. The Crow indians were native to this land, and he was worried one was snoozing here. Unlikely, but hey, meth is a hell of a drug. He smirked, spying a nice cock drawn in the wall. It even had veins, the balls were huge. Three years on a submarine had conditioned him to appreciate a nice dick drawing. The letters were inscrutable, but he could sense they were merely another language. He supposed this was a hideout for some Crow teens. He was smiling as he continued deeper. Sandstone caves seldom went deep, the stone was too fragile to form structures.

Thus, Tom was quite surprised to find a bend that led deeper. He kept his eyes out for light trickling down, perhaps this was just a gouge in the rock above he could later climb. This explanation wasn't true, as the cave went down. The stone was still sandy, left his hands feeling filthy and wet with a touch. He felt along, into the dark, expecting to find sleeping bags, burnt wood, plastic bottles of liquor empty. In the dim, he did see a cupcake or muffin wrapper.

The man went on, slowly feeling his way as light failed to penetrate. A glance back showed he was really headed steep down. He looked back forward.

“FUCK!” he silently barked in surprise, stumbling backward. He fell on his ass hard, scrambling back to his feet, boots struggling for purchase. His eyes saw something his brain was struggling to process.

It was snoring. Not a cougar, grizzly, bobcat, wolf, coyote, or even any animal he might have expected to be snoring like an old man.

It was a horse.

It was a unicorn.

It was an armed unicorn in uniform. Gold, he thought in the dim. The man’s curse didn't shake the sentry. He dusted his denim off and stood in the damp recess, staring at the stallion snoozing against the wall, cuddling his lance. Tom leaned down and spoke. "Hello? Am I high?” he laughed. He reached out and, ready to flinch back, touched a tip to his horn. It was hard, like an antler or something, and also quite real.

The soldier didn't move. Smirking dumbly, he tried again, poking firmer twice. “Hey, shitbag," he said, half laughing.

“Wasnsleepsarnt!" The stallion shot upright and dropped his spear with a clink on the sandy stone. “Shit shit," he grumbled, snot rolling around in his throat. He picked up his weapon and made for the man stepping backwards calmly, hands up." WHO GOES THERE?!” The validity of the challenge was lessened by his off kilter helmet and cracking voice.

“Tom," he said, standing still. “Are… you a horse?" he asked, dropping his hands to his side.

“I am Corporal Grizzly of the Crystal Guard, and you will come with me or face the consequences! No one may know of this place.”

The man tucked his hands into his pockets, regretting not bringing his beer. Would have been nice to either use it as a diplomacy chip, or at least top off before this fever dream continued. He shrugged. “Sure.”

“From where do you hail from, foe?"

“Woah, woah, its friend. Billings, man. Man, you're a fuckin horse. God, Brook ain't gonna believe this," he laughed. “We gonna be long? I gotta help set up the tent."

The colt visibly lightened up when he said friend, even tucking his spear back into his arm. "So, lots of questions, if you don't mind, mister Tom. Protocol. And yeah, sorry, we gotta. Protocol. You're the first human we've seen in a dozen years or so. This…. This is big. Big big. I'm SO making sergeant! Ha, Bobcat is gonna be so pissed! Alright, let's go to the guard shack. That's where we play cards and shoot the shit. My CO is gonna freak!”

This is a good dream, or I hit my head in a river rock, Tom thought with a dumb smile. “Lead on, man. Go Griz, Cats suck, “ he added.

What happened next was a fascinating interrogation over Sweet Apple Reserve, the good stuff. Eventually, the sentry's relief, Bobcat, with a blue and yellow scheme to contrast the burgundy and silver of his rival, brought the worried and just as disbelieving Brook.

The ponies of Equestria were real.

This land was one of two known points at which realms collided. In one world, politics and bad ideas spread quite like literal electronic viruses, wars ravaged millions, and atomic fire waited to end it all with the turn of a key or just the wrong tweet. In the other, there were schools dedicated to friendship, and the most heated arguments were over which fruit was superior. The other bridge was long closed, located in the quaint locale of Ponyville. This opening was newer, but even the nerdiest eggheads had no clue how long it would remain open.

From one August to the next it did, and a half dozen adventurous ponies piled into two vans, driven by Tom and Brook, across the country to Baltimore. Much confusion and arguing was had over the names of towns, how humans didn't or did have magic, which fruit was the ideal road trip snack, Tom arguing for some strange chewy one called Beef Jerky. Luckily, Laura had joined Tom, for she was there to rip it from a stallion’s hooves.

They learned that the astonishingly numerous five unicorns of the group still had magic, and thankfully didn't use it in plain sight. The group had ordered two hotels along the way, suites, moving luggage and passengers only through back doors at night, and in boxes or bags if possible. The couple were frustrated, since been used to getting plenty of one on one time. Now, shared quarters meant none of that frisky business except sneaking out to the van once or twice.