Author's Note

Important disclaimer. Prostitution is legal and regulated in parts of rural Nevada, including Pahrump.

The author has never been to a brothel before. This is NOT intended to be an accurate depiction of legal prostitution in Nevada. This is a work of fiction. Any reference to a real person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Ranch

After 45 minutes of driving down the desert highway, Lyra Heartstrings still thought the human driver wrapping his fingers around the steering wheel was the coolest thing she had ever seen.

“Tell me, tell me, how does it feel?” The green unicorn leaned forward from the backseat, her seatbelt stretching longer. She flashed a toothy smile.

The driver looked up at the rearview mirror, then down at the sparsely haired skin on his fingers. “Nothin’ really,” the human said. “Just…just like…fingers, I guess.” He continued to twiddle them to the beat of “Bad Moon Rising”, quietly playing on the car radio.

Humans had a very intricate numbering system for roads. They used letters to signify the territory the road was in followed by numbers. For example, they were travelling west on NV-160, from Las Vegas to Pahrump.

NV stands for Nevada territory, and 160 is the road number. Some roads had slopes, or twists and turns, but this road was flat, travelling across barren desert. Also, unlike Equestrian roads, almost all human roads were paved with a smooth, level black strip of asphalt.

It was like a pitch-black line streaking across the bright, sunlit desert. And she was travelling along that line.

Lyra watched the driver use his fourth finger to push the turn signal lever, whilst his other fingers continued to grip the steering wheel. She tried not to salivate with excitement.

Most unicorns, like Lyra, can pick up objects with their magic, but they only have “fuzzy” touch. The best way to describe it would be like picking up something with a very slippery piece of putty. Only the most skilled unicorns, such as Starlight Glimmer, can manipulate objects with the precision of human fingers. Which is supposedly why cars are unheard of in Equestria.

“You…you all have such precise control over the steering wheel,” Lyra said. “I bet that’s how you keep the motor-chariot in a straight path at such a high speed.”

“Ah, trust me sweetheart, some humans still manage to fuck it up. Look, over there.”

Lyra followed his finger to the right side car window. They passed by a rusted car body sinking into the shoulder of the road.

“Probably some drunk idiot. These kids, I tell ya, they go to Vegas, do all this stupid impulsive shit, thinkin’ they’re invincible or somethin’. I got no respect for those people, I tell ya. You tell me, you ever heard of such things back in your world—what’s it called, ‘A-questra’?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Yeah, I think not. Hell, you pony folk got good wholesome values of friendship. And honesty. And doin’ the right thing. Mighty respectable, I tell ya.”

Lyra blinked several times. She glanced down at the stack of human money in her bag, and asked herself if this was a good idea. “But well…sometimes, you can’t let your…obligations…get in the way of a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

The driver was silent. The music was still playing, but his fingers were unmoving on the steering wheel.

Lyra almost asked the driver to turn back.

“Well…maybe it’s only a pony thing,” she said, scratching the itch in the back of her mane.

The night before, Lyra was the only Equestrian to arrive at the Las Vegas McCarran airport.

As the portals from Equestria were slowly opening up, ponies were slowly trickling into cities around Earth, whether for business or tourism. While most ponies headed to places like Venice, Paris, or New York, almost none had travelled to Las Vegas.

There was little reason for ponies to travel there. After all, in Equestria, there was Las Pegasus—which was virtually identical, legalized gambling and all, but without all the restrictions and lengthy visa process involved for Equestrians travelling to Earth.

But Lyra wasn’t here to gamble. As a matter of fact, she had everything planned out already.

The unicorn brought a heavy bag of 240 Bits with her—half her monthly wage—which she exchanged for 1200 dollars of Earth money at McCarran Airport. Twelve measly green sheets of paper. Her soul deflated as the thin tray was passed back to her.

“Would you like an envelope?” the teller asked. “We’ve got a shit ton lying around that we haven’t used.”

“No…no thanks.”

Humans liked to put faces on their money. Perhaps that’s why they liked using sheets of paper instead of gold. Each dollar paper had the same face on it. Twelve faces staring at her. Twenty-four eyes.

Was it a portent?

The face’s mouth wasn’t open. But was it talking to her?

Was it telling her to stop? Turn back?

Before she did something she’d regret?

At that moment, the face of the balding, hairless human with pursed lips printed on the banknote looked exactly like Bonbon.

She remembered pacing around the Interdimensional Terminal Arrivals Hall that night, ignoring the throngs of human tourists that were snapping photos of her. She found a pay phone, and went to great effort to exchange her $100 sheet of paper for “coins,” the human equivalent of gold Bits. Only to find out that the pay phones didn’t make interdimensional calls.

So she paced around some more, and by 11:30 she arrived at her conclusion.

Bonbon had always been a liar.

Even before they started formally dating, Bonbon lied to her. Bonbon wasn’t even Bonbon. For five years, she was a secret agent working in a dangerous-creature removal agency. And she had moved to Ponyville for the sole purpose of concealing her identity.

And how did that make Lyra feel?

She remembered looking into Bonbon’s eyes—special agent Sweetie Drops’s eyes—and it was like she was looking at a completely different pony. A different pony that just looked like Bonbon. She’d been dating a fake Bonbon all this time, and the real Bonbon had run away to a far, far place.

She felt cheated.

Really. It honestly felt just as bad as it would if Bonbon had cheated on her.

And what Lyra felt, Bonbon had a right to feel, too. That’s what they agreed when they got married, right? That they would share their burdens. In sickness and in health. Whatever Lyra went through, Bonbon had to go through, too. They swore that in front of the mayor and half of Ponyville.

So it wasn’t about lust, really. Or even about revenge.

It was about the sanctity of marriage.

And so Lyra used the payphone to call a taxi, whisking her to the MGM Grand.

There were a lot of things that Lyra knew was wrong.

Cheating was wrong. Only the week before, Lyra got a letter from Miss Cheerilee that their son Glow Shine cheated on the last science test using a small notecard, and so Lyra scolded him and sent him to timeout.

And then there were her…thoughts. About humans.

Humans reminded Lyra of her youth. Back when she didn’t share her bedroom with her wife Bonbon, and the four walls were plastered with posters of “artist’s impressions” these strange bipedal creatures: once dismissed as legend, now known to exist in two alternate dimensions: the world of Canterlot High, and Earth.

Then there was the depression of her youth. The long days of loneliness and pointless masturbation. As breathtakingly beautiful as the posters were, they were unmoving, except if a gentle breeze blew through the window. Sometimes she’d doze off in the afternoon and have quick, not-vivid-enough dreams of humans that failed to at least take her over the edge.

It was never enough.

And then, of course, she met Bonbon. She was a kind mare, who was accepting of her strange hobbies and behaviors. Her beauty didn’t provoke any strong feelings in Lyra’s nether regions, but objectively speaking she was definitely pretty for a pony. Lyra accepted the fact that she loved Bonbon the way she loved little Caramel in the playground during 2nd grade, with the other foals cheering in unison, “Lyra and Caramel, sittin’ in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

Which was why she married Bonbon.

Bonbon was enough.

Of course, no human was perfect either. Lyra knew enough about humans to know they were a deeply flawed race. But she could sit on her bed—hind legs facing forward—and stare at the fingers of a human named “Celine Dion” on a life-size poster…and pretend that she was perfect.

Lyra could sit like a human. After a year of practice, she also could walk bipedal for as far as 20 paces. She also could grab objects with her hooves in a way that mimicked opposable thumbs.

She tried to turn herself into the human that she desperately wanted to make love with.

It may have taken only a few minutes to travel through the portal to Las Vegas, but this really was years in the making. Which was part of the reason why decided not to turn back. She’d already come so far.

It was sort of like the buffet at the hotel in Las Vegas that night. All the trays were clearly marked as vegetarian or meat, but Lyra couldn’t hold back her curiosity for all the delicacies of human cuisine.

The flank-steak bites, with cream and bacon bits on top. She swept seven of them onto her plate when nocreature was looking, and she brought it back to her table. She tried one first. Her first taste of meat. Cow meat, moreover. Which was probably not unlike horse meat.

It made her sick. Very, very, sick. Her stomach practically yelled at her as it slid down her esophagus. It was part of the experience, she told herself. Just deal with it.

She took a gulp of warm water and continued. Resisting the urge to vomit, she swallowed another…and her stomach still yelled at her…but it didn’t yell any louder. The volume just remained the same.

So, the first sin was all that mattered, really. One more bite couldn’t make it any worse. And one more. And one more.

The human’s name was Amie.

A tall, fair skinned female human, devoid of hair from the eyes down. And long, smooth, slender fingers that were accentuated by green lacquered nail varnish. It happened to match the color of Lyra’s fur coat.

“Maybe you were expecting me?” the pony thought out loud, with a smirk on her face.

Amie giggled. “Oh no. You’re the first Equestrian that we’ve ever had at the Ranch.”

Amie worked at the legalized brothel in Pahrump. Or, as the humans call it, “the Ranch.” After negotiation, they settled on $700 for a “party” of sensual massage, foreplay, and, of course, human sex. Amie was an expert at her job. Even their conversation as they negotiated the price was very pleasant.

And the way her fingers caressed the back of her ears.

Or squeezed the flesh just above her teats.

But perhaps the only reason Amie was an expert—Lyra thought during a lull in the passion—was because Amie was the only human she’d ever been with. Sure, she’d seen humans’ fingers before, but she never…touched them. The closest she got was the waiter back in Vegas who handed her a complimentary mimosa.

And if Lyra was the only pony Amie had ever been with, did that make Lyra an expert as well? She never thought of herself as an expert—she was inadequate, if anything. Back in Equestria, she had read many guidebooks on sex for mare-mare couples. She tried a few techniques with Bonbon, with mixed results. Perhaps simply because Lyra was reluctant to learn.

How could she learn how to massage a mare’s chest floof when nothing about it excited her?

And despite all this, Bonbon was so patient with Lyra in bed. She knew that a mare’s company didn’t quite stimulate Lyra as much as it did her. And yet Bonbon never felt insecure. Instead, she was so caring and sympathetic to her, and she didn’t deserve this betrayal…

…NO!

Remember.

It’s about marriage.

This is about marriage.

Lyra saw the pink leopard-print Ben-Wa balls on the nightstand of Amie’s room, and she snapped back to reality.

She took Amie’s right hand. She pulled the human hand to her mouth, licking each finger like a phallic object. Her equine saliva left a slight sheen on the surface of the human’s nails. Hooficures simply couldn’t compare to human manicures and pedicures. Their bare skin made the nails stand out more. They were like tentacles, with little beacons shining in the night.

Amie was smiling. Perhaps the human was enjoying the novelty just as much as she was. “You sure this isn’t your first time doing this?”

Lyra released her suction, and licked up the stringy trail of saliva. “I’ve practiced on fake hands. Made out of pencils, or rubber sticks.”

“Really,” Amie said. “Well, seems like you’ve been planning for this…for a very long time…”

“AAA~!” Lyra arched her back as she let out a shrill neigh-sigh. Amie just had to touch that special spot.

Lyra didn’t like Amie’s smile. It was flat and wide, forming a web of wrinkles all over her face—in ponies, this was softened by a coat of fur. Neither did she like the human’s giggle. She found her voice to be screechingly high and monotone.

Bonbon’s voice was high pitched, too. Like a soprano melody. Bonbon listened to opera sometimes while she cleaned the house, or while she cooked up batches of candy to put in her shop. As the voice on the recording entered a rich vibrato, she’d hum a light, airy rendition. Lyra would hear her from down the hall, and nod her head subconsciously.

There would be a break in the humming when Bonbon would call, “Lyra! Come try this new candy I’ve made!”

And she’d come down to the kitchen and try a piece. “It’s good. Creamy. Could use a little more cinnamon.”

The last time, Bonbon asked her, “Hey honey, why don’t you pack a few pieces for your trip to Earth? I’m also gonna leave a few for the sitter once I head out for the candy expo in Canterlot.”

Lyra shook her head. “They don’t allow any food on interdimensional trips. And they disinfect all your bags when you arrive. Strict health and safety guidelines.”

“Oh.” Bonbon glanced at her tray of candies, then at Lyra, and a smile crept up the earth pony’s furred face. It was a deep smile. It was not disguised sadness, nor was it suppressed happiness. It was like a simple acceptance. It seemed to be more common in the latter years of their marriage.

It was the most beautiful smile Lyra had ever seen.

That’s what she liked about Bonbon. That, and her voice.

Then there were the things she liked about Amie.

If Lyra could’ve done the whole thing just feeling Amie’s human fingers, and her smooth, bare human skin, and nothing else…that would be perfect. Perhaps with a blindfold on, and earplugs.

Lyra did ask about blindfolds at one point. Amie’s expression soured and said that bondage cost extra. So Lyra never brought it up again.

Lyra spent the taxi ride back to Las Vegas thinking about hybrids.

Ponies, but with hands. Each bony finger covered with a thin layer of milky flesh and a triple-lacquered nail. And supple, hairless skin around the midsection, legs, and hindquarters.

Their voices would be melodious, and light. No raspiness. Like a sweet, candied tune. And a complexly-flavored smile, that had the depth to pull at more than just one heartstring. At least five or six.

But where would the hands go? Do they directly attach on the front hooves? But then they would get dirty, and the supple layer of skin would get damaged. Most roads in Equestria were unpaved because ponies’ hooves were tough. How would they grab objects with scratches all over their beautiful hands?

She stared at her reflection in the dark car window. Then she banged her head against it.

She wished that she never thought about humans, ever again.

The taxi arrived back at the MGM Grand, and after paying the fare, Lyra stepped out into the oven-like heat of the Las Vegas summer.

She couldn’t believe who she saw at the hotel entrance.

“Bon-bon!?” She almost dropped her bag on her hoof.

“Surprise!!!” The earth pony paused. “What…aren’t you glad to see me?”

Lyra immediately shook her head. “No, no of course not, Bonbon! I’m super glad! You know I’m always glad to see you, we’re best fr—we…we…we like, love…” she trailed off, then cursed under her breath.

Of course Bonbon was a perceptive mare—how could a former secret agent not be perceptive? She probably interrogated hundreds of ponies back in her day. And her eyes—her eyes are trained like a hawk, spotting even the smallest suspicious detail.

Was it her neck? Was there still a stain there? She checked in the reflective windows of the hotel lobby. Or was it the warm glow on her cheeks? Or course she couldn’t be pregnant, but maybe there was a glow anyway? Did she have a glow? Or was it just the gold plate decorations reflecting the light?

“What…what happened to your candy expo in Canterlot?” Lyra asked her wife.

“Oh, it ended early,” Bonbon said, giggling. “Somepony decided to invite Discord, and you can only guess how that turned out. You should’ve seen the giant bird made of rainbow taffy flying through the convention hall, up and down, up and down…”

Up and down, up and down. Oh, Bonbon. Her sweet melodious voice.

Not even the expert human could replace her.

No. Not this. Not this.

Stop.

Quick.

“Bonbon I LOVE YOU!” Lyra blurted out.

Another pause.

The temperature of the oven rose.

“Of course. Just like I love you too.” Bonbon frowned. “You’re acting really weird today.”

There’s no way she didn’t know. She couldn’t possibly be so clueless. Bonbon was better than that. She had probably already gleaned from Lyra’s body language every single detail: the fact that Lyra had an affair, the name of the human she had the affair with, where she had the affair, how much she paid for it, converted to Equestrian Bits at the current exchange rate.

And so, logically speaking, Lyra shouldn’t tell Bonbon what happened, for that would simply be redundant.

Lyra was still being a good wife.

Bonbon’s smile returned. “Don’t be stressed, honey. I just wanted to come to Earth and surprise you, since your birthday’s coming up and all.”

“My birthday…?” Lyra almost forgot.

Bonbon stretched out her thick, un-appendaged hoof. “Come. I made reservations at Hakkasan. Don’t worry, they have a vegetarian menu.” She ended the sentence with another giggle.

Up, down, up, down. Melodious. Or was she thinking about…Amie?

Up, down. Up, down. Her fingers. Her—

“I…Isn’t it kind of expensive, Bonbon…?” She threw out a benign question to distract herself.

“We’ll split the bill. It’ll be fine.” Bonbon gave her wife a deep kiss on the lips. “That’s on the house. It’s all on the house.”

On the house? On the house?

Lyra took it to mean that Bonbon knew everything and implicitly forgave her for it. She told Bonbon “I love you” and Bonbon said “I love you” back. And they cantered through the sliding glass doors of the hotel, hoofs barely touching.