Monday at Crystal Prep started as normally as it could, given the circumstances. Some students were simply working their way back into the weekly grind. Others had to do so after watching a classmate go mad with power and blast apart chunks of reality. (Though they had to admit, that was the best assault on the Wondercolt statue in the history of the schools’ rivalry.) They sifted into the school, either from the attached dorms or the buses, and generally tried to get through their day without thinking too hard about the revelation that magic was real and Canterlot High of all places was the epicenter.

Then the PA system hissed to life, and the old revelation got booted out of most minds with an even more startling new one:

“Attention, students. This is Principal Cadence. Please report to the auditoriums. There will be a special assembly shortly.”

Confused murmurs filled the school as everyone filed in. The underclassmen went to the secondary auditoriums to the side of the main one, where projectors displayed a live feed of Cadence on the main stage.

It wasn’t quite the loving, caring dean of students everyone knew. Oh, it was still recognizably Cadence, same outfit, same hair, but before she’d always had an air of restraint or even regret. A sense that she could only do so much for the school and knew that all too well.

Now she moved up and down the stage like a comedian performing a stand-up routine, all smiling energy and rapid patter. “Good morning, everyone! I’m sure you’re all wondering why I called you here, and what happened to Abacus Cinch.

“Well, those of you who attended the Friendship Games can make an educated guess. Suffice to say, Ms. Cinch’s reputation with the school board wasn’t quite enough for her to escape the repercussions of her actions this past weekend.” Only those in the frontmost rows could make out the hint of sinister satisfaction in Cadence’s smile, and most told themselves they’d imagined it. “She was already grooming me to be her successor; we’ve just moved up the schedule a little.

“While I do wish the circumstances that got me here could have been different, I am happy to act as your principal, and to usher in a new age for Crystal Prep.” Cadence came to a stop at center stage, glee giving way to somber solemnity. “Twilight Sparkle represents a cautionary tale for the school’s current culture, and I intend to learn from the lessons she taught us. Expect more assemblies like this one in the future.” She shook herself and returned to her previous perkiness. “For this first one, I’m going to keep things simple.

“Crystal Prep as it is now is a horrifically hostile environment. It’s one thing to reach for greatness, but you don’t need to shove down everyone else while you’re doing it. This week, I ask each of you to try to do something nice for your fellow students a few times a day. Mention something you appreciate about them, congratulate them for a great play in PE, maybe even just smile as you pass one another in the hallway. Whatever it is, try to make people glad that they met you.” Cadence ended on a smile fit for a toothpaste commercial.

The reaction was much more lukewarm. Uneasy, uncertain murmuring filled the auditorium, with students looking at each other to confirm that this wasn’t all just some mass hallucination. A few offered shaky, almost painful grins to one another, while others just scrolled through social media feeds.

Cadence managed not to massage her temples. “Just try, everyone. It’s all I ask. Dismissed.”

The students flooded out of the auditorium as efficiently as they’d come in, though in different arrangements. They came in clumped according to their homerooms, but left in groups of, if not friends, then at least members of the same social circles.

Five girls in particular hadn’t really thought of one another as part of the same circle before the Friendship Games, but competing and nearly dying in the same event had a way of bringing people together.

“I’m not sure how to feel about this,” Sunny Flare said as she rubbed the devices on her wrists she refused to explain.

Sour Sweet nodded. “Right? I mean, fostering positivity, sure, sounds great.” Her uneasy smile flopped into a deep frown. “But it also sounds like turning the best school in the state into a glorified kindergarten.”

“Really, you guys? Really?”

Both turned to see something they’d hardly ever seen before: A frowning Lemon Zest. One with her headphones around her neck, no less. “Look,” said Sour, “I just don’t want our standards to slip.”

“Okay, to borrow Sunny’s catchphrase, seriously?” Lemon threw her hands into the air. “Did you miss the part with literal demon Twilight Sparkle tearing apart existence?”

“Of course not,” said Sunny. “But—”

“But butt-fuck nothing!” People stopped in the hallway to watch. Lemon paid them no heed. “Principal Cadence is right; Cinch created an environment so toxic, it made Twilight want to destroy the world! The only reason we’re even still here is because of the power of sad puppy eyes.” Uncomfortable murmuring resonated through the growing crowd.

“And the golden angel girl,” noted Indigo Zap.

“Okay, yeah, golden angel girl played a part, but we still all owe our lives to Twilight’s babby doggo and that is absurd. And why did Cinch put the thumbscrews to her? Why did we have a fucking musical number about peer pressure?” Lemon let the question hang for a moment.

Sour and Sunny shared an uneasy look, and they were far from the only ones. “For school pride?” said Sunny.

“No. To win a game of capture the fucking flag!”

Sour crossed her arms. “I liked it better when you barely paid attention to the world outside your headphones.”

“I liked it better when I barely paid attention to the world outside my headphones! But guess what? That world almost got annihilated last week, and no one’s talking about it ‘cause they’ll fall down the same existential hole I did.” Judging by the wide-eyed expressions among the listeners, many already had. “I like this universe; I live here and it’s where I keep my stuff. So if the school’s average GPA drops by point-oh-three but we all graduate sane, healthy, and alive, I call that a fair trade.”

Sugarcoat raised her eyebrows. “You assume someone else might turn into a demon.”

“That isn’t completely off the table. We don’t know how magic works. But there are mundane dangers out there too.” Lemon winced. “I hate to say this, but… given how tightly wound she was, how shitty the school was to her, would you really put it past Twilight to come in with a gun one day?”

The other girls blanched at that, trading uneasy looks. Indigo broke through the murmuring crowd. “Sh-she wouldn’t do that.”

“You stumbled there, Indy. And yeah, maybe she wouldn’t. But I could definitely see someone else cracking under the pressure and taking a lot of us with them.” Lemon’s pained gaze panned across their audience. “Or just taking themselves out of their misery. Which, for the record, everyone, I really don’t want. I don’t care if it’s a demon bent on world annihilation or a sophomore who’s had all they can take, I want us all to live ’til graduation. I’ve seen enough musician burnouts to know dying young and leaving a good-looking corpse is stupidly overrated.

“So yeah. I, for one, welcome our warm and fuzzy overlady. Even if this does turn Crystal Prep into a kindergarten, we’re getting juice, cookies, and naps out of the deal.” Lemon shrugged and attempted to smile. “Works for me.”

“This isn’t going to work, Miss Amore.”

Cadence rolled her eyes as she adjusted to her new desk. “You can call me ‘Cadence,’ Ira.”

The lilac-skinned woman just wrote something on her clipboard and went, “Hrmm.” Between her humorless expression and a suit so tightly creased, it looked like it could draw blood, it was almost like having a younger Cinch for a secretary. Only her darker purple, flyaway hair betrayed any sense of imperfection or humanity. Cadence might have told herself it was a sign of Rabia letting herself loosen up a little if she hadn’t known that hair had always been like that.

“Well, the wedding’s in a few months,” said Cadence. “so don’t get used to ‘Miss Amore’ either way.”

“Duly noted, Miss Amore.” And Ira did indeed make a note.

Cadence gave her a flat look. “I hope this isn’t going to be a trend.”

Ira didn’t even look up from the clipboard. “I could say the same for the impromptu assembly, Miss Amore.”

After a deep breath, Cadence admitted to herself that listening to Cinch’s old secretary would probably be helpful. “Alright, why don’t you think this will work?”

“For one, teenagers are nasty things. They certainly won’t act nice just because you asked them.” Ira actually looked up from the clipboard. “For another, this school has a long history of pursuing individual excellence. It’s as integral to the school as the support beams.”

“Turnover, Ira. Give a school four years and it can transform completely.”

That got a shrug. “Maybe a public school, Miss Amore. This is Crystal Prep, and the board of trustees has certain expectations that don’t go away with a few graduating classes.”

Cadence folded her arms. “The school board has certain expectations as well, and I think the trustees will agree that investigating certain parts of the school would be… detrimental to its reputation.”

“Ah, blackmail.” Ira made another note.

“Will that be a problem?”

Ira shook her head and smiled for the first time Cadence could remember. “Oh, not at all, Miss Amore. I was worried you’d be a complete one-eighty from Ms. Cinch. Finding even this much common ground comes as something of a relief.”

Cadence scowled at the comparison. “The difference is that I’m not directing my blackmail towards someone who’s only a few months past being a legal minor.”

“However you like to frame it, Miss Amore.”

“Lemon Zest.”

Lemon blinked. She’d gotten a lot of looks since her outburst that morning, some wary, some respectful. But this was the first time someone had actually come forward and said something. She should’ve figured it’d be Sugarcoat. “Yeah?”

The other girl stared straight at her, as unreadable as ever. “I admire and respect how you’ve spoken your mind with regards to Principal Cadence’s new policies.”

“Oh. Wow.” Lemon took a moment to process that. “That’s… actually legitimately touching. Thanks, Sugarcoat.” She grinned. “For what it’s worth, I can always count on you to smack me back down to earth when I’m going too far in my own head.”

Sugarcoat nodded. “Someone has to.”

“Glad it’s you.” Lemon rolled her eyes. “Especially since most of the ‘compliments’ I’ve gotten today have been about my tits.”

“Really?” Sugarcoat said, raising an eyebrow.

“Not in so many words, but let’s just say most guys I’ve passed in the hall weren’t smiling at my face. And yeah, I figured most of them couldn’t smooth-talk their way out of a paper bag, and I know I have an outstanding pair of chesticles.” Lemon thrust out her chest for emphasis, letting the softball-sized mounds speak for themselves. “It’s still nice to know I’ve made an impact with someone through something other than my strawberry-frosted cake pops, you know?”

“Hmm.” Sugarcoat narrowed her eyes. Irritation? Sympathy? Envy? Lemon couldn’t guess. “Most boys haven’t even approached me.”

The reason there, however, Lemon could definitely intuit. “Uh, not to put too fine a point on it, but how have you reacted to compliments?”

“Pointing out how I don’t deserve them.”

Lemon winced. The worst part was how Sugarcoat said that with the same disinterest as just about everything else. “And maybe, just possibly implying that the person trying to be nice to you is an idiot for saying it?”

Sugarcoat’s gaze darted away for just a moment. “Perhaps.”

Lemon gave her a friendly punch to the shoulder. “You’re better than you think you are, Sugar.”

“Let’s agree to disagree there.” Sugarcoat rubbed the point of impact.

“I have you alone every night, roomie. We are going to talk about those feelings. Mark my words.”

Sugarcoat quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“No! Noooo.” Lemon went from feigned shock to a wicked grin. “You don’t always follow through on a threat. That’s a promise.”

Abacus Cinch had thought she’d hit rock bottom when forced to endure a tie—a tie!—with Canterlot High in the Friendship Games. Then that traitorous fool had kicked her out of her school, and now even Abacus’s own secretary wasn’t taking her calls. If Cadenza truly cared about those students, she’d have listened to her elder rather than potentially doom every one of them.

Strictly speaking, Abacus didn’t have to do anything after that, but she had gone into education to help students realize their fullest potential. The methods might have been unpleasant, but the results spoke for themselves for those who cared to listen. She couldn’t leave them to such a fate in good conscience.

And so Abacus came to face the true meaning of rock bottom, and it looked remarkably like the front of Canterlot High. With a heavy sigh, she entered a building she’d hoped she’d seen the last of for quite some time. Her skin crawled as she imagined the bizarre mutagenic energies oozing through the place. She had seen magic. Magic didn’t make students grow wings or fire beams of light like some ridiculous cartoon. Whatever it was that had infested this school, she wanted as little to do with it as possible.

But she had to at least make the effort.

She knew where to find the principal’s office thanks to previous trips. She knocked, of course, and waited to be welcomed in. After that, she began the moment she opened the door. “Principal Celestia. There is an urgent matter—”

“Cadence already told me about your termination, Abacus,” said Celestia, not even glancing up from her paperwork.

“Yes, that’s precisely why—”

“I thought you’d be desperate between that and the incident at the Friendship Games, but I never thought you’d actually come to see me. Certainly not in person. The fact that you even set foot in CHS when the Games weren’t underway...” Celestia trailed off and shook her head.

Abacus moved directly in front of Celestia. “Then you understand just how critical the matter is. I—”

“I could not care less.” Celestia moved on to the next form.

“You don’t understand. This—”

Celestia looked up, and the sheer hostility made the sentence die in Abacus’s mouth. “No, Abacus, you don’t understand. You were fired. I don’t have to make nice with you for the sake of appearances anymore, which comes as quite the relief since I had to do the work for both of us. Indeed, the only reason you aren’t in prison is because the charges don’t exist yet.”

The phrasing raised certain horrible suspicions in the back of Abacus’s mind. “What precisely did Cadenza tell you?”

“Enough. Which is exactly how much I have had of you. And now I’m going to tell you what I’ve wanted to say for every Friendship Games I’ve had to preside over.” Celestia pointed at the door. “Get the hell out of my school.”

“I see.” Abacus nodded. “Very well. I can tell when I’m not wanted.”

“Good. I’m not sure I could have been more obvious without a shotgun.”

That decided, Abacus moved across the hall and raised a fist.

However, the vice principal’s office was already open. Luna might have been smiling, but she seemed no more willing to listen than her sister. “I’ve been listening ever since I heard your voice, Abacus. By all means, ask for my help. Fair warning, Celestia’s always been the polite one.” She pulled open a drawer in her desk and began rummaging through music players and other confiscated items. “No shotguns in here, but I’m sure I can find something that will get you out of the building.”

“The heck is she doin’ here?”

Abacus turned and saw the last seven people she’d ever wanted to see. Especially Twilight Sparkle, who cringed at the sight of her and hid behind her new gaggle of ne’er-do-wells.

But they were still some of the most supernaturally experienced people Abacus knew. So she plastered on a smile and said, “Ah, just the girls I was hoping to talk to.”

The one who’d directly confronted the monstrous Twilight moved to intercept her approach. “Whatever you want with Twilight, you’re not getting her.”

“Twilight? The last thing I want is her back in Crystal Prep.” As long as Cadenza failed to appreciate the dangers of the generator, it was the last thing Abacus wanted for anyone. “There is another problem—”

The orange girl—Sunset, that was her name—glared at her with even greater ferocity than Celestia. And for the briefest moment, her irises glowed, seeming to cast her sclera into shadow. “We. Don’t. Care.”

Abacus drew back a step, then coughed into a fist. “I see. Well then. Good day.”

She strode out of the building with a clear conscience. She could hardly be blamed if no one wanted to listen to her warnings, and she knew better than to deal with beings of power unprepared. Besides, she’d always heard that Bermuleda was beautiful this time of year.

Days passed. Between gentle reminders during the morning announcements, repeated practice, and Cinch’s absence, smiles came easier to the students, though the same couldn’t be said about eye contact. As moods improved with no impact on performance, or even beneficial ones in some cases, many teachers joined in encouraging the friendlier atmosphere.

Connections formed. Positivity built upon itself. Social strata that had built up over years of tradition, passed down from senior to freshman… didn’t vanish overnight, but did show signs of erosion as talking to people outside of a pre-established social circle became more acceptable.

The board of trustees hated it.

Fortunately, recent modernizations had made it so they wouldn’t yell at Cadence in person. Videoconferencing had eased the burden of travel for the board, most of whom were pushing eighty and far more willing to complain remotely.

As such, Cadence just had to look at several scowling, wrinkled faces on a screen. “You have taken some very radical steps, Principal Amore,” said one especially sour old prune, though her green skin seemed more suitable for a lime abandoned in the back of a crisper drawer. “And your failure to consult with us has not gone unnoticed.”

“With all due respect, Chairwoman Rabia, the Friendship Games clearly illustrated a need for immediate, radical change to avert another tragedy of similar scale.”

Rabia sneered. “That may be your opinion, Principal Amore—”

“And that of the school board,” said Cadence.

The chairwoman of the board frowned even more at that. “Yes, and theirs as well. I will have words with Neighsay. But the fact remains that Crystal Prep has procedures in place which you did not follow.” The other council members gave affirmative mutters of their own.

Cadence took a deep breath before answering. “Ma’am, I asked the students to be nice to one another. I have done nothing to the academic standards, the uniform policy, not even the cafeteria menu. All I did was make a polite request.” She very carefully didn’t smile as she added, “You will find that there is nothing in the school’s procedures that requires the board’s approval before the principal can make a suggestion.”

Rabia grunted in displeasure. “Perhaps we will need to review that in the future.”

“If you want to run the school yourself, ma’am, you’re welcome to try.” Cadence let the idea run through Rabia’s mind, watching her eyes widen with a blend of rage and horror. “I understand that you don’t want me to overstep my bounds. I ask that you show me the same respect and stay within yours.”

Silence reigned for a few seconds. “Very well,” said Rabia. “Still, we would like to know if you plan any more of these little assemblies in the future.”

“I plan on several of them as the situation develops. And, in the event that my suggestions brush against changes that would require the board’s approval, I will alert you ahead of time.” Cadence offered her friendliest smile. “I trust that that will be acceptable?”

“For the time being. Please do keep us posted.”

“Of course. Have a good day, everyone. As always, your input is greatly valued.” Cadence disconnected from the call, then let out a long sigh. “If nothing else, they definitely value it. Honestly. I just asked the students to be a bit nicer. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Lemon Zest tossed and turned in her bed, toes curling and mind whirling. She tried counting sheep, imagining a cold shower, picturing her grandmother naked.

She grumbled as she opened her eyes. It was no good. She was too horny to sleep.

At first, boys being drawn to her chest had been irritating. Then it became a little flattering. Then she’d caught herself fantasizing eyes on her even when no one was there, a hundred imaginary watchers with gazes glued on her tits, her ass, every inch of her. The locker room had become a wonderful sort of torment.

She’d hoped the weekend would lessen matters, but that had just meant she’d had more freedom to move where she wished, along with her fantasy spectators. And being outside just gave them more room, until it felt like there was a whole music festival dedicated to seeing her squirm.

And the worst part of all was that she couldn’t do anything about it. It wasn’t like she could finger herself in the bathroom between classes; privacy at Crystal Prep was a rare and precious thing, as were free toilets. And even with more smiles in the hallways, the rumor mill was absolutely merciless. An hour after Lemon shook hands with the little man in the canoe, the whole school would know.

As for bed, Lemon had a roommate, and Sugarcoat was a light enough sleeper that she could wake herself up by criticizing her own dreams.

But even as Lemon thought that, the flush in her cheeks and heat in her crotch only intensified. She knew she liked having an audience. Sure, Sugar wasn’t her first choice, but having someone to perform for would still be hot. And once the thought wormed its way into her mind, she couldn’t get rid of it.

“Okay, look,” she whispered to herself. “Tomorrow’s Monday. I can’t afford to lose sleep. So I rub one out real quick, release some tension, and we’re cool. Right?”

Lemon didn’t get an answer, of course, but she imagined that her body was happy with anything that involved an orgasm.

She moved a hand down as quietly as she could, pulling up the oversized band T-shirt she used for pajamas and moving her panties aside. As she teased her lips with a finger, she shut her eyes and imagined the crowd. The cheering throngs watching as she stripped off every piece of her uniform, exposing every inch of herself for their eyes. Tossing every scrap of clothing to her audience, knowing she’d never see any of it again.

In reality, her other hand pulled up the shirt further, exposing her breasts and letting her massage one along with her slit. In the fantasy, she went so much further. Bringing out toys, rolling both breasts in her hands for the audience, lying on her back and spreading her lower lips for all to see.

“Come on!” she called to the crowd from the same spot where Principal Cadence delivered her Monday speech. “Join in! Let’s really make friends!” She slipped a finger inside of herself in her mind and in her bed.

Lemon watched her dozens of admirers watch her. Saw them stroke themselves because of her. Feeling that pleasure thanks to her, unable to look away, barely even blinking.

She barely even noticed when she wriggled out of her panties or kicked the covers off her bed. The sudden chill against the beads of sweat on her skin just provided another bit of sensory thrill.

As her pulse raced and one finger in her snatch became two, the fantasy crowd’s last scrap of restraint broke. They mobbed the stage, clothes gone, dicks swinging. Lemon welcomed them. Cocks in her hands, her mouth, her pussy, everywhere a length of flesh could go, even if the bodies couldn’t have fit. She was surrounded by their love, their adoration, their need.

Two hands weren’t enough to capture the feeling in reality, but Lemon tried her hardest. Three fingers plunged in and out her as her thumb rubbed her clit. She’d balled her other hand into a fist, biting on it to muffle her squeals, but it just wasn’t enough.

Just as she pulled her knuckles out of her mouth, the sound of a throat being cleared hit her like a bucket of cold water. Slowly, fearfully, Lemon turned to Sugarcoat’s bed. “Uh…”

“I know what you’re doing.”

“W-well, I, uh…” Lemon sat up and groped for her sheet. She should’ve been able to find it easily, given how her face was burning. “Sorry.”

In the exact same tone as before, Sugarcoat said, “I didn’t say stop.”

The realization went through Lemon’s mind like a lightning bolt. Sugarcoat could hear her. She knew. She was, in a sense, watching.

She liked it.

The fantasy resumed, Lemon getting wrecked in every way imaginable. And, somehow visible through the layers of men trying to get at her, Sugarcoat sat in a seat of honor like a theater box, watching with the slightest curve of a smile. But in reality, Lemon sat up, legs wide, exposing herself to Sugarcoat in the darkness, playing up her gasps and moans. It was a performance, and a sweet gig at that.

Lemon panted as she and the fantasy both built to a climax, one hand working a breast while the other pistoned in and out of her. She pinched a nipple and gave the lightest scratch she could to her clit, and came like she’d been pent up for years. Every hair on her body stood on end. She even saw stars. The afterglow was like a palmful of water after dragging herself through the desert.

She didn’t even bother putting her shirt back down, pulling the covers back up as the mellow feeling gave way to sleep. Though she could’ve sworn she heard short gasps of breath coming from the other bed as well.

Author's Note

More's to come. We're just getting started.