Lemon Zest had heard about the strange creatures known as “morning people.” She thought they were as real as unicorns. Less real, given recent events. Anyone who didn’t wake up grudgingly to an alarm blaring sick guitar licks clearly wasn’t human.

“Your panties are still on the floor.”

Sugarcoat, who was awake and already in her uniform, if still brushing out her hair, was clearly a robot.

After a few moments, the comment pierced the morning fog in Lemon’s mind, much as the morning air hit her nipples. She yelped as she yanked her shirt down. “Shit, that actually happened?”

“That actually happened,” said Sugarcoat, handing Lemon her discarded underwear.

“Thanks.” Lemon threw her covers over her head and got herself a bit more decent. “So, uh, about last night…”

“I’m not looking for a serious relationship, but our fetishes happen to synergize.” When Lemon got out of bed, Sugarcoat looked at her as neutrally as if they were discussing the weather. “I’m happy to watch if you want to give me something to watch.”

“The lights were off.”

Sugarcoat shrugged. “They don’t have to be next time.”

Lemon thought about it. Okay, so Sugar wasn’t a robot, but it was still incredibly weird to think of her in a sexual context. “And no one else has to know?”

Another shrug. “Do you want them to?”

That gave Lemon pause for a few moments. Adding to the spectacle did actually sound nice. But even with Principal Cadence’s reforms in progress, this was still Crystal Prep. No sense in giving the crowd something to use against her. “No?” It still came out as uncertain as she felt.

Sugarcoat just nodded as she started the process of getting her hair in place. “Then I won’t say anything. I don’t really care either way.”

“Huh.” Lemon took in the last few minutes. “That was a lot simpler than I expected it to be.”

“Most drama is founded on poor or nonexistent communication.” Sugarcoat let go of the last of her hair ties with a sharp snap. “I don’t have that problem.”

Lemon smirked. “You don’t say.”

“I do. Now hurry up and get ready, it’s Monday.”

“Right, right.” Lemon sighed as she got her shower stuff. Friend with benefits or no, she still had school.

The halls seemed transformed from a week ago. Lingering fear and existential uncertainty had given way to warm feelings and the heady aftereffects of a much more restful weekend.

Yet Principal Cadence’s announcement came all the same: “Hello, Crystal Prep, and welcome to a new week. I ask that everyone please join me for a brief assembly in the auditoriums.”

The students filtered into their places as before. Once more, Cadence stood on the main stage, smiling with the openness and eagerness she’d developed since taking the position. But this time, she seemed more contained. If she had been anyone else, she might have even come across as a bit smug. She seemed less a performing comedian and more a tech executive presenting a new product.

“I am very happy with how everyone embraced my suggestions last week,” she said. “Indeed, some of your peers actually came to me with some of their own. They wish to remain anonymous, but some of their contributions were so helpful, I want to give the whole school a chance to make their voice heard.”

Cadence raised a hand in the general direction of her office. “Starting this week, you will find a suggestion box by my office door. Just leave a slip of paper with your thoughts on how we can improve Crystal Prep inside and I’ll take it under consideration.” She shook her head, still smiling. “Now, that isn’t a guarantee I’ll act on it, and abusing the privilege will see it removed. But I do want everyone here to feel like their voices matter.

“On that note, I’d like to make a very special announcement regarding one of the suggestions from last week. Beginning this week, the blacklist for Crystal Prep’s Internet will be significantly relaxed outside of class hours.” Cadence waited a few moments for the murmurs to die down before continuing. “You’ll still be expected to complete all homework assignments and use approved sources for research, but when your work is finished, you don’t need to rely on your phones for social networking.” The smile shifted into a smirk as she saw most of the front rows look away from the stage. “And don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ll be pleased to hear that restrictions on mobile devices have also been lifted to the same degree: You’re allowed to use them for more than calls, but during school hours, you’d better be using them for academic tasks.

“That isn’t the only suggestion I’ll be acting on, but it is the only one that’s made enough progress for me to share it with you all. Keep up the good work, everyone. Dismissed.”

Lemon Zest staggered out of the auditorium, still processing the announcements. “Wow. Wow. She actually went there.”

“I know!” said Indigo Zap. “I mean, everyone does it, but to hear the principal acknowledge it, and then say ‘Screw it, have your fun?’ Okay, Principal Cadence has officially won me over.”

“I don’t,” said Sugarcoat.

Sunny Flare quirked an eyebrow. “You don’t what?”

“Look at social media on my phone.”

“Sugarcoat, you don’t use social media at all.”

That got a shrug. “I may pick it up if I want to replace my usual festering pool of humanity’s worst.”

“But then there’s that suggestion box idea.” Sour Sweet grimaced. “Oh, that’ll go swimmingly, I’m sure.”

Lemon winced in turn. “Yeah, that could go real bad. How long do you think until she decides to put it away?”

“Two weeks,” said Sunny.

“One,” countered Sour.

Sugarcoat shook her head. “If it’s still there on Friday, I’ll be surprised.”

Indigo made a flatulent noise with her lips. “May as well get my idea in there before some ass ruins it for the rest of us, then.”

The others nodded and made concurring noises before stopping and trading surprised looks.

“Wait,” said Sour, “do we all have genuine, unironic ideas about how to improve Crystal Prep?”

“I suspect every student does, for a given value of ‘improve.’” Sugarcoat didn’t even need fingers for the air quotes; her intonation did all the work.

“So…” Indigo hazarded a smile. “The suggestion box could actually work.”

Sunny shrugged. “Much in the same way we could all win the lottery on the same day, yes.”

Lemon smirked. “So you’re saying there’s a chance.”

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Sunny glanced back at the auditorium. “Though I do have to wonder what other suggestions Principal Cadence is already acting on.”

First Folio moved into the principal’s office more warily than an outside observer might expect for a teacher. But if nothing else, Abacus Cinch had left a reputation. It still clung to her old place of power like a bad smell, no matter how much Cadence tried to lighten up the room with softer furnishings and actual lighting. First’s already pale complexion had gone nearly white, and she ran her fingers through her bob cut like she expected a few more pale lavender hairs in what had once been solid purple.

Still, she relaxed as Cadence greeted her with a smile. “You wanted to see me, ma’am?” First said as she sat.

“Yes, First.” The smile fell, just leaving Cadence. She shuffled through some documents on her desk, some for show, others notes she’d taken while preparing for this meeting. “Some of the students have expressed… concerns about your approach to sex ed.”

First relaxed enough to roll her eyes. “Well, of course they would. I still remember what it was like at that age. So sure you’re immortal and invulnerable, not knowing it could take just one mistake to send your life spiraling down the drain as all your hopes and dreams come crashing down to harsh reality.”

Cadence managed to hold back her response to “How is your sister?”

“All the better for your asking, as is Moondancer.” First hazarded a smile. “Now, surely a few misguided kids aren’t enough to call for a performance review.”

“Normally, they wouldn’t be.” Cadence flipped to the notes, her expression grim. “But based on what they’ve told me, you’ve deviated from the planned curriculum by a wide margin.”

First squirmed in her seat. “W-well, I don’t know if I’d put it quite like that.”

“They already have. Ira?”

The secretary emerged from shadows that no amount of halogen bulbs could disperse from the room, her clipboard holding her own copies of the notes. “Upon their bringing the issue to our attention, Principal Cadence and I have asked your current students for examples of your lessons. Highlights include the following: If you perform or receive fellatio, you’ll be forced to perform the same for demons when you go to Tartarus. If you perform or receive cunnilingus, you’ll be forced to perform fellatio for demons when you go to Tartarus. If you perform or receive analingus, as above, save that you will do so neck-deep in excrement.” Ira looked up from the list and quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, ma’am, all but a few end with a demon’s phallus in the perpetrator’s mouth.”

Cadence turned to First and matched Ira’s expression. “Anything you’d like to add, First?”

“I’m just trying to keep them safe,” said First, wearing an indignant scowl. “Abacus never had an issue with my teaching methods!”

Ira shook her head. “If I may be frank, Ms. Folio, Ms. Cinch didn’t notice. There is no hard metric for sexual education.”

“And you’ll find that I’m not Abacus,” added Cadence. “You’re not fired, First, but you’re certainly not teaching upperclassman health classes again, effective tomorrow.”

“What? But who will finish the classes this year?”

“We have several candidates already lined up.” Cadence offered a reassuring smile. “Rest assured, First, anything the students do over the summer will be safe, sane, and consensual.”

That just sent the teacher sputtering out of the office.

After a moment, Cadence groaned and facepalmed. “I could’ve phrased that better.”

“Very probably, Miss Amore.”

“It just kind of flowed out after ‘safe.’”

A feather-light touch made Cadence look up to see Ira trying to pat her on the shoulder without actually disturbing her jacket. “No need to justify yourself to me, ma’am. I pride myself on being as nonjudgemental as possible.”

That put a lopsided grin on Cadence’s face. “Even with First?”

Ira shrugged. “I merely stated the facts. She has conviction in her beliefs. It is misguided, but still admirable in its own way.”

“The world could use more people like you, Ira.”

“Perhaps,” said the secretary. She flashed the barest hint of a smirk before flipping through the other documents on her clipboard. “So, those candidates you mentioned?”

Cadence leaned back in her chair and groaned. “Pardon my language, but all I have are a pair of twins, Fuck and All. But I can’t let that woman keep spreading flagrant misinformation in good conscience.”

Ira hummed to herself. “Have you considered taking over yourself, ma’am?”

“I couldn’t…” Cadence cut off the reflexive response and actually thought about it. “Well, I suppose I could fill in for the rest of the semester, but I already have enough on my plate. What happens if someone’s sent to my office and I’m busy putting a condom on a banana?”

“Firstly, ma’am, this is Crystal Prep. If a student gets sent to your office, it’s because you asked to see them. Secondly, you’re already working double duty. You never assigned a new dean of students after your rather…” Ira cleared her throat. “Abrupt promotion.”

“That still takes us from finding a new teacher to a new dean.”

Ira shook her head. “The key difference, ma’am, is that while I’m not qualified to teach sex ed, I can certainly act as a capable dean.”

“Really?” Cadence frowned in thought. “I don’t want to overburden you.”

“Nor I you. It’s my job to make yours easier, Miss Amore. I’ll happily help the students as part of that.” That might have come across as reassuring if Ira had ever shifted her usual, humorless expression as she’d said it.

Still, Cadence had to admit she didn’t have any better options. Compassion and empathy were rare commodities in the Crystal Prep faculty. “If you’re sure.”

“Completely.”

“Very well, Dean Ira.” Cadence opened one of the desk drawers and extracted a several-inch-thick pile of folders. “I suggest you get reading. Your next appointment’s at two today.”

Ira took in the student folders for a few silent moments. Finally, she nodded. “Understood, Miss Amore. Well played.”

From the moment Crystal Prep got a schoolwide Internet connection, Abacus Cinch had carefully curated what sites students could actually access. From the earliest days of the Internet, she saw its potential as both educational aide and inescapable time sink, and knew with her typical self-assurance that it would turn out more of the latter than the former.

As technology improved, so did the CPA network, and the blacklist grew along with it. Students were free to search archives of scientific journal articles, poems, historical documents, and more. But diverging from that to, say, MyStable, EweTube, or even Quickipedia would get nothing but “Access Denied.”

As of that Monday, that changed. While class was in session, it was as before, students expected to keep their minds and browsers on schoolwork. But once the final bell rang, the blacklist went inactive.

The first peeks across the once-impassable barrier came slowly and tentatively. A peek at Quickipedia here. A look at MovieTropes there. Then those first daring pioneers went to social media to confirm that the restrictions had indeed lifted.

Less than an hour later, Crystal Prep’s Internet traffic had more than doubled.

Cadence took a deep breath before opening the video chat. Forward momentum was a good thing, but she knew she couldn’t get cocky. Still, she’d come prepared. “Hello, Chairwoman Rabia,” she said once she was connected. “Members of the board.”

“Principal Amore,” drawled Rabia. “So kind of you to touch base with us. To what do I owe the honor?”

“As I said, while I am taking suggestions under my own advisement, making actionable changes with some of them clearly requires the board’s approval. And so I come to you.”

Rabia scowled. Probably. It wasn’t easy to distinguish from her usual expression. “As opposed to the school’s Internet policy.” The other members of the board made indistinct grumbling noises of their own.

Cadence shrugged. “Principal Cinch did leave that to her personal discretion when establishing the school’s network.”

“True,” Rabia conceded. “We may need to revisit what else she did without our oversight soon. Now, what did you have in mind today?”

“After opening my office to suggestions from the students, one topic in particular has come up time and time again. I did some research, and I found that the policy in question has barely been touched since the school was founded.”

“Interesting.” Rabia leaned back, letting Cadence see her cross her arms. “It sounds to me like we have a case of an enduring tradition that is best left unaltered.”

“And if I’d heard a single positive thing about it, I might be inclined to agree,” said Cadence. “To be frank, I remember my time as a student here, and I still share a number of the complaints brought to my desk this week.”

“Pardon me,” said Firelight, one of the youngest members of the board, which still put him well into middle age. He ran purple fingers through his sea-green combover and continued, “I fear Principal Amore has neglected to mention what she’s actually referring to.” That got a muddled mix of agreement from the others.

“It’s very hard to determine whether this is a wise course of action when we don’t know what’s being acted upon,” added Mr. Waddle.

Cadence nodded. “Very true. Interesting that Chairwoman Rabia seemed ready to oppose changing anything.”

“Whereas you seem to favor change for change’s sake,” Rabia shot back. “Even if every policy you enact helps the school individually, enacting too many at once could send the entire institution into chaos.”

“I like to think that Crystal Prep is a robust enough institution that it can survive getting dragged into the twenty-first century.”

“Yes, yes, you’re both very important and don’t like each other much. We have firmly established that at this point. What are we discussing?” Firelight paled as the silence stretched out. “Er, Chairwoman. Principal.” More quietly, he added, “I thought I was on mute.”

While several board members scowled and muttered dark sentiments about young upstarts, Cadence offered a warm smile. “You’re right, Mr. Firelight, I’ve dragged this out enough, and for that I apologize. Ladies and gentlemen of the board, I’d like to discuss Crystal Prep’s uniform policy.”

She actually did go on mute for the next five minutes. It wasn’t like she’d have gotten a word in edgewise.

No one could say who let their curiosity slip first. Sure, thought several students, the restrictions had been lifted, but there was lifted, and there was lifted. Surely there were still some limits in place.

But no. Every attempt, no matter how dubious or infamous the site, got through.

Many students went through the same trail of logic. After several trials, they came to the real reason why they wanted to test how far they could now go. So they licked their lips, opened a private window, and entered the URL.

And PornDiscovery loaded as readily as any other site.

Some closed the tab at that point, curiosity satisfied. Others, among them the few who’d been willing to spend cellular data and risk discovery to watch porn on their phones, surreptitiously bookmarked some promising videos for when their roommates were out of the room.

“Oh, fuck yes.”

When Lemon Zest later heard about those people, she called them cowards.

“What did you find?” said Sugarcoat, glancing up from a novel.

“The mother lode of cheese.” Lemon’s shoulders shook with barely contained glee as she took in the video playing on her laptop. “Oh, we’re gettin’ the girls together this weekend. This is too good not to share.”

“Interesting.” Sugarcoat turned back to her book and turned a page. “Use the hand sanitizer before you touch anything.”

Lemon gave a thumbs up with the hand that wasn’t rubbing her clit. “You got it, Sugar.”

Strictly speaking, students who’d transferred weren’t Cadence’s responsibility. Given everything she had to work on, she didn’t really have time to worry about one either.

She smiled as the door to a familiar house opened. “Hi, Twilight.”

But some things were important.

“Hi, Cadence,” said Twilight Sparkle. “Thanks for coming. It, well…” She wrung her hands as they went up to her bedroom. “It hasn’t always been easy adjusting to Canterlot High. And I could use a sympathetic ear. Not that Mom and Dad aren’t sympathetic! But neither of them was there, and I don’t think either quite believes it happened, even with the footage from the Friendship Games.”

Cadence nodded as they sat next to one another on Twilight’s bed. “I was there and I have trouble believing it happened.”

Spike looked up from his doggy bed and said, “It happened.”

Right. That was a thing now. Cadence took great pride in not shrieking like Shining when he saw a spider in the shower.

“Could we get a little privacy, please?” said Twilight.

“Sure, sure.” Spike turned his best puppy-dog eyes on Cadence. “You’ll make her feel better, right?”

She smiled. Talking dog or not, they both only wanted the best for Twilight. “Of course.”

“Good.”

Once Spike had scampered out of the room, Twilight sighed and said, “Intellectually, I know I should probably speak with someone who has a bit more emotional distance. Realistically, no one else would believe me, and I can’t help but think that some might institutionalize me, or at least prescribe antipsychotics. And emotionally, well…” She offered a shaky smile. “You’ve always been like the big sister I’ve never had.”

That got a grin from Cadence. “And in a few months…”

The sentence trailed off, and Twilight just blinked up at her without comprehension. “What? What happens in a few months?”

Cadence frowned. “Shining didn’t tell you?”

“Clearly not, as I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“We’ll get back to that. And I will have words with him.” Cadence shook off the sour mood. “I know you said you’ve been having a rough time adjusting. How’s CHS been treating you?”

“It’s…” Twilight bit her lip, screwing up her face as she thought. “Well, it turns out that the Many Worlds interpretation of quantum physics is true.”

Cadence blinked. “Oh. Well. Their science department must be a lot better than I realized.”

“No, I found that out on my own,” said Twilight, staring straight at nothing. “When my parallel universe counterpart walked out of the statue that I blew up with my stolen pony magic and talked about her personal experience with closed timelike curves.”

Cadence rubbed the girl’s back. “Deep breaths, Twilight.”

“Did I mention she’s a princess? Because she’s a princess. And also a horse.” Twilight whipped her head up to Cadence, a rictus grin on her face. “So are you, apparently!”

“Twilight. With me.” Cadence breathed in calm, breathed out stress, guiding the flow with a hand. She repeated it a few times, Twilight following suit. Once they seemed clear of the danger, Cadence said, “Better?”

“Better. Sorry. Just…” Twilight shook her head. “Finemare’s bongos, the implications.”

Cadence held back the laugh, but she couldn’t help but grin a little. “You’re really still swearing by famous scientists?” Twilight had picked up the habit when she was ten.

“They’re as worthy of reverence as outmoded belief systems.”

Cadence couldn’t help but think of what lay in Crystal Prep’s basement. She cleared her throat. “Right. So aside from having your mind blown, how’s it been?”

“Well, horse-princess-me built up a repu—” Twilight winced halfway through the word. “She did a lot of good work there on the supernatural front, and that endeared her to the student body. So the good news is everyone recognizes and likes someone with my face.”

“And the bad news?”

“They expect me to be someone whose literal title is ‘the Princess of Friendship.’”

Cadence nodded. “I can see how that would be bothersome for you.”

“It’s the frequency more than anything. People at CHS accept ‘She’s my equine doppelganger’ as an explanation far more easily than I thought they would, but the sheer quantity of times I have to do it is exhausting.” Twilight sighed, leaning on Cadence’s shoulder. “I feel like I’ve talked to everyone there at this point.”

That got a smile as Cadence removed Twilight’s hair tie, running her fingers through the girl’s ponytail. “Well, that should mean you won’t have to tell anyone else.”

All that got was a disgruntled “Hrmm.”

“In all seriousness, the gossip circuit should do your work for you at this point. And it could be that people who heard you’re different from this other Twilight may want to get to know you for you.”

“Well…” Twilight took a few moments to mull that over. “I guess. That never really occurred to me. And a few of the clubs there do look interesting. It’s just that I’m still getting used to socializing with Sunset Shimmer’s friends, much less expanding my social circle beyond them.”

“They don’t feel like your friends yet?”

“It’s getting there, but…” Twilight sighed. “Sunset Shimmer.”

Cadence raised an eyebrow. That was an intriguing sigh. “What about her?”

“She’s, she’s just… wow, and I’m meh.”

“You know,” Cadence said with a smile, “this sounds awfully familiar.”

Twilight straightened up. “How so?”

“I’ve heard very similar thoughts from your brother when it came to a certain girl he was interested in.”

“I-I never said I was interested in…” Twilight paused mid-fluster. “Wait. Who?”

— — — — —

Twily

You’re getting married. To Cadence. AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME‽

Did you actually copy-paste an interrobang just for that sentence?

MY OUTRAGE CANNOT BE ADEQUATELY EXPRESSED THROUGH STANDARD PUNCTUATION!

— — — — —

“Honestly,” Twilight growled as she glared at her phone.

Cadence forced the girl’s hands down with gentle pressure from one of her own. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. Now, I believe you were saying something about Sunset Shimmer?”

Twilight blushed and fidgeted. “Um, well… Oh! You’ll never guess who showed up at CHS the other day.”

Cadence allowed her the distraction. “Well, I probably know them if you’re bringing them up…” She thought for a moment. “I don’t suppose your teammates from the Friendship Games came by?”

“No. It was, uh, Princi… Well, former Principal Cinch.”

And like that, Cadence’s good mood vanished. “Really.”

“She insisted there was something really important.” Twilight frowned in thought. “And I suppose if she even got near CHS outside of the Games, she meant it.”

Cadence patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Twilight. Whatever it was, I’m sure only bitter old women would think it was a problem.” She grinned. “Now, Going back to Sunset Shimmer.”

“Um…”

“Based on what I saw of her at the Friendship Games I have some… suggestions to offer there…”

Crystal Prep’s Internet usage rose by an order of magnitude that first night. The student body’s consumption of facial tissues followed suit, and then some.

Author's Note

Yeah, this one's mostly setup. Rest assured, it's going somewhere.

Also, this Derpibooru image nicely demonstrates how Sugarcoat does her hair.