Power Keg

She couldn't believe she was going through with this.

It was a stupid idea, truly, she thought, wringing her hands as she approached the palace doors. It had to be a prank, even if Upper Crust had absolutely no sense of humour and absolutely no predilection for pranking other ponies. This was too much! It couldn't be anything other than a prank. She'd be turned away in disgrace, and she'd have to awkwardly traipse back to her husband, which would perhaps be the worst part of it. He'd be no help.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" the unicorn guard asked, unmoving as he looked towards her, save for his eyes. He cut a fine figure, disciplined and immovable in the golden plate armour of the EUP Platoons, and the spear he wielded glinted in the afternoon sun. She gulped as he addressed her.

"Actually, I was wondering if...it sounds silly but…" She trailed off, bashful under his watchful gaze, which beat down on her hotter than the sun overhead. She swore it wasn't usually this hot this time of afternoon, even on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration. "Does the phrase Summer Shining mean anything to you?"

She waited for the snort of disdain, to be turned away impatiently. She'd have to return to the party and conjure up some excuse about her friends having just left. Instead, to her surprise, the guard nodded and pushed open the heavy door as if it weighed nothing, then stepped aside, his armour clunking heavily. He said nothing as she stepped forward, unmoving until she'd passed into the threshold of the castle, at which point, the door swung closed behind her with a boom. She jumped, the noise echoing through the cavernous halls of the great castle, sounding to her like a gavel on a judge's desk. She was alone, though. There was nopony else here other than her, and she didn't know what to make of that. Steeling herself, she headed down the stretching, beckoning hallway, doing the only thing she could - see it through.

It hadn't been Night Light's fault, not entirely. He was just a product of the problem that festered in Canterlot, and she knew it was unfair to detest somepony for their nature. He had no choice in the matter, not really. That didn't change that her life was monotonous and mundane, and she plodded meaninglessly through as an attentive wife to a mediocre stallion. She loved him, but she'd never felt properly fulfilled.

Night Light was a hardworking stallion, she knew. He kept accounts and balanced budgets, and his natural ability to talk through a pony's facade and straight to them gained him contacts and relationships which sustained their marriage and lifestyle. It was comfortable, and they weren't short on access to material luxuries or a social life, but that wasn't enough to make a life for them. She was a housewife, but she didn't have children to care for or tend to, and no future to look forward to beyond being brought to parties that lost their luster with every successive invite.

Her husband didn't particularly care about having children. He was receptive enough to try, but they never seemed to achieve anything. The test always came back negative, and he'd shrug and offer her platitudes about next time, which she'd always have to prompt him into doing. Even when her estrus was at its peak, when every mare was as fertile as she'd ever be, and every stallion was as virile and fiery as he was going to get, nothing happened. With Celestia's sun in the sky and nature having bloomed into its brilliance, the aura of life reaching its most powerful, she was left alone and childless, her dreams flickering year by year.

"How do you think Princess Celestia manages it?" she mused after one unimpressive session, her loins still growling for attention. The stallion beside her wouldn't be able to go again, she knew; it'd be her fingers that night, and an unsatisfying climax that she shouldn't have to give herself. "Her heat, I mean."

"Darling," her husband had chuckled, caressing her arm softly. "Everypony knows that royalty doesn't go through heat. A creature powerful enough to raise and lower the sun is powerful enough to suppress or completely detach herself from base bodily urges." He'd looked at her like she was being silly, kissing her on the cheek before turning over to go to sleep. It had only been 7pm, and she'd sighed in dissatisfaction.

That was the rote belief, something pumped out and accepted without question among the upper echelons of Canterlot society; the princess was above animalistic needs, either because she was simply too powerful and pure to be afflicted by them, or because she could simply vanish her own needs. It was a satisfying answer for a section of society who thrived on a sense of superiority and finesse, of purity and propriety; the epitome of ponykind, the unifying force that combined the best elements of each of their races, was powerful, graceful, and beyond the failings of the flesh. And how could anypony disagree? An alicorn could do things beyond the understanding of even the academics of their society, so why not this?

She'd found herself believing it less and less with every passing summer. Sure, it could be the truth, but she'd seen the princess on several occasions, if only from a distance, and the way the tall white alicorn acted was more in line with womanly cycles than any stallion would like to admit. She was good at hiding it, there was no doubt, and certainly enough for the stallions to believe, but as a mare who had to go through the exact torment every month, growing in intensity as summer reached its peak and the strength of life and growth reached its zenith, she'd seen Celestia's restlessness. It was subtle, but it was present.

She hadn't been the only pony to notice.

A good wife didn't talk behind her husband's back, and she was a good wife. However, Canterlot was full of mares who were not good wives, and a good mare did listen when others were talking. As a result, she had a rather thorough understanding of the mood and reality of life behind closed doors in Canterlot. Many of the married mares, pinnacles of good and respectable families, were unhappy with their love lives. Their husbands were often away working or socialising with other pretty mares or respectable ponies in other circles, and it left them feeling uncared for. The times that they were given their due attention, it was never enough. The cycle of lust brought about by the spinning seasons may have meant that the stallions were more up for intimacy in the summer, but their wives saw a proportionate rise in their own lust. In summary, it was never enough.

Adultery didn't help, either. She'd been surprised when she'd first found out that affairs were almost non-existent in the city, given the attitudes she'd witnessed. Oddly, there was a simple reason, one she hadn't considered at all until she'd heard multiple mares confirm it; unicorn stallions lacked virility. At least, the ones in Canterlot did, and as dissatisfied as they were, the aristocratic and bourgeois classes of the city were far too prim and proper to consort with ponies of a lower status than themselves. She didn't know many intimate details about stallions outside of her husband - Night Light had been her one and only love, after all - but she had to sadly agree.

The magazines showed it. The racy novels she read showed it. The yearning she felt every time they made love or failed to conceive showed it. And now, every upper class mare she knew confirmed that the stallions of the city were not packing any particular heat. She didn't know what was more disheartening; that her monogamous partner was in fact below average, or that this was the average for any pony with which she could ever hope to encounter intimacy.

They'd been married for five years when her despondency had become too obvious for her friends to not notice. At first, she'd tried to play it off as her being tired or working hard to keep the house in order, but they hadn't bought it at all. Eventually, when she, Upper Crust, and Lyrica Lilac had visited a cafe on a Saturday afternoon, they'd pulled the truth from her. She'd revealed how much she wanted children, how every attempt failed, and how she felt the weight of despondency piling up. She'd expected the upper echelons of Canterlot to scoff, to tell her she wasn't trying hard enough and to point to their own foals as examples of how easily it should be for a mare to bear strong, healthy children, but they were exceedingly empathetic.

"You poor thing," Lyrica had cooed, frowning at her across the table. "You should have said something earlier. This must be so hard for you."

"You know you can confide in us," Upper had added, her expressionless face cracking a little to allow a smile to shine through. "We'll always be here to offer you advice or point you in the right direction."

"Thank you," she'd replied, smiling sadly as she spoke. "But I don't think there's much you can do about our lack of success."

"Oh, that's not true at all," Lyrica had blurted out. "There's so much that can be done to help you out of your little predicament."

"I know. Your kindness is more than enough."

"Kindness?" Upper asked. "Lyrica isn't referring to platitudes and useless advice. She means that there's a way to get what you want."

She'd been awed at the statement, a swell of excitement at the news, but it had died down as quickly as it'd risen. She couldn't get her hopes up now, after all. "How do you know?" The two mares had exchanged knowing glances, fighting back the smirks that crossed their muzzles, and turned to face her again.

"We're two mares with healthy, happy foals," Lyrica had explained. "We're happy, we're fulfilled, and we're perhaps the best mares you could ever hope to ask about such a thing. We have rather extensive experience with the matter." She'd paused to sip her drink, some esoteric concoction that only she seemed to order. "Incredibly experienced, given our own familiarity with your problem."

It'd taken her several seconds to realise what Lyrica was insinuating. When she did, she blinked repeatedly, looking between the two mares opposite to check for any confirmation in their expressions.

"You-?"

"Yes," Upper had interrupted, making it clear she didn't want it said out loud. "Our solution could be your solution too."

"How did you-?"

"Keep your voice down please."

"How did you...how can I…?"

"Incredibly simply," Lyrica had informed her, leaning in close, somewhat conspiratorially. "I can't say too much - there's an enforced expectation of discretion, you understand - but we are encouraged to send mares in need towards...the service. Firstly, you mustn't tell anypony about what happens. Secondly, you'll need a passphrase. Thirdly, you'll have to be aware of what you're getting into. Mentally prepare yourself for it."

"You make it sound dangerous," she'd observed, a nervous chuckle to her tone. "Secretive, mysterious-"

"And alluring?" Lyrica had interrupted, smirking. "It is. There's something...fulfilling about it. It's more than just getting what you want; it's getting what you need." The sincerity in the violet mare's voice had sold the validity of the statement.

"What do I need to do?"

"Attend the Royal Palace during the Summer Sun Celebration," Upper had answered. "Give the guard at the door the passphrase so he knows why you're there, and follow the hallway to the room at the very end. Everything else will be explained to you. Come up with some excuse to explain your absence to your husband for a few hours, it'll be easier than coming up with one on the spot."

The last part had chilled her. Were they expecting her to cheat on Night Light? To give up her vows of monogamy and a life of partnership? Was that what this was? It couldn't be worth it if that's what it was, even if it would produce results. That couldn't happen though, could it? Every unicorn in Canterlot was just as...ungifted as her dear husband, right? Then again, the EUP Platoons were supposed to recruit the best physical specimens into their ranks, and she was supposed to head to the palace…

"What's the passphrase?"

The two other mares had glanced around for several seconds before whispering it to her. They had refused to write it down, reiterating the need for discretion, and had told her to memorise it. She had, mulling the possibility over morosely for the rest of their time together, and for the next month until the Summer Sun Celebration. Her carnal vigour had grown stronger, more demanding, and she'd tried desperately with Night Light to conceive, even staying up all night on the longest day to capitalise on its life-giving qualities, but nothing happened. The rest of the year had produced no results either.

Summer swung around again, and she felt the familiar shame of failure creep up on her. Upper Crust had whispered the new passphrase to her the month before the festival, and she had thanked the mare, the offer lingering in her mind. Could she bring herself to do it this year? Could she break her vows to fulfill her own desires? She'd been torn between her duty and her desire, struck by the beauty of the rising sun that day and the hot wash of lust that rolled over the crowd in time with the tide of sunlight. With a bit of persuasion, her husband had agreed to head home at midday to try their luck again.

She hadn't even been surprised or shocked at the negative pregnancy test. Six years of disappointment had killed her ability to feel frustrated or upset at the familiar result. All she could feel was drained.

This would be the seventh Summer Sun Celebration she'd witness without reaping its benefits, she'd thought, as the months dragged on and her life became grey and purposeless. She could sense Night Light's exasperation at her repeated attempts to change things up, to try something new, to give that strange idea from a far away land a go that might, just might, give her the foal she'd always wanted. He was kind enough, but she could feel his irritation whenever she brought it up.

It wasn't fair. The others had their gorgeous children, babies and infants and children and cheeky teens, her friends and acquaintances happy in their role of motherhood. Even Night Light's clients and customers had families of their own, something she had to witness every time she accompanied him to a function as the dutiful wife. Whenever the topic came up, he'd handwave it as something that just hadn't happened, and the other stallion would, in an attempt to be kind, point out that she was still young and able to bear children. She always had to grit her teeth.

Every year she had to see every other mare and stallion fawning over their kids, laughing joyously and doting on the little ponies. Every year, there was another baby to fuss over, to cuddle and coddle. Even the princess herself, who was publicly unmarried and childless, had the privilege of gazing over the sea of ponies as she sent the sun into a slow climb, illuminating the adoring, awed faces of each and every one of her loving subjects. She was, in a sense, a mother to hundreds of thousands, maybe even millions. The childless princess was more of a mother than Twilight Velvet could hope to be.

"It's Summer Shining," Lyrica had whispered to her as they stopped for a quick chat in the street a week before the festival. Velvet didn't have to ask what she meant. This was her third time hearing the random two-word pass, and she hadn't used it the previous two times, when it had been something else. She doubted she would this year, either.

Her husband had been especially busy that week, coming home late at night and leaving early in the morning. According to him, several businesses were competing to advertise and sponsor the garden party, and he'd been called in to manage the claims and auction off spaces and products. It was incredibly lucrative, he'd assured her, and he promised to take her on a vacation to Neighagra Falls when the business was wrapped up. It was a sweet gesture, but it didn't change the fact that her days were spent alone in the house, desperately trying to quench the fire in her loins with a simulacrum of a stallion. The fact that her toy was just as satisfying as her monogamous lover saddened her.

The day arrived at last, and even before the sun rose, Velvet had felt the stirring of lust inside her, nature telling her to do her job. She'd been given a front-row seat, the best view of the spectacle, and she was itching for it. She didn't take her eyes from the podium from the second she sat down, even as the others chattered excitedly around her. Long minutes had passed, time ticking by in an unmoving flow, the drone of the crowd meaningless to her.

The trumpets had blasted, breaking the relative still of the morning, and with the fanfare, an announcer bellowed out the ceremonial prelude, announcing the honorifics and duties and all the other trivial tripe that they always did. She'd watched, uncaring, until Princess Celestia stepped up to the stage, towering mightly over her subjects, slender and graceful, beautiful and majestic. The sight of the mare was awing enough, her golden dress flowing like liquid sunlight and rippling like her ethereal mane, lending her a regal, feminine aura that transcended her unparalleled height and stature. She projected strength and authority, power and resilience, but none of that undermined her femininity. She was loving and caring, tough and unyielding, stoic and expressive, all at the same time. She was the best of ponykind, and as she'd raised her arms and channelled magic through her horn, and the glow on the horizon grew into a slit of blinding light, the crowd had cheered. They loved her for it, and from the sliver of a smile on Celestia's muzzle, Velvet had seen that she loved them too.

Some couples had left as soon as the raising had been completed, clearly feeling nature's prodding. She couldn't blame them; she'd felt the hungry urge too, but her husband had had other ideas, mingling with wealthy and stuffy ponies whose laughs sounded far too plastic for her to be able to stand for long. She'd looked around as often as was politely acceptable, searching for anypony she may be able to talk to herself. The princess was absent, for whatever reason, and she couldn't see Upper Crust anywhere, despite Jet Set's constant snooty appearance. All around her, there'd been male voices, crisp and calm, plastic and stiff, devoid of anything passionate or sincere. It was oppressive and overbearing.

"Darling, I'm going to say hello to Upper Crust." The words had come easily after a few hours of the detached monotony, the lie slipping from her lips without so much as a twinge of guilt on her part. Night had smiled and nodded absently, barely breaking the conversation to acknowledge her, and she strode towards the palace with a sense of purpose. Her nerves had begun to gnaw at her as she drew closer, her doubt piling up, but still she had continued. There was nothing else for her to do, even when she considered what would happen if she'd been lied to, or if this was some big misunderstanding on her part. Her conscience had tried to intervene, reminding her what it would entail if she wasn't mistaken, but at that point, it hadn't been enough to stop her hooves trodding.

"Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Actually, I was wondering if...it sounds silly, but...does the phrase Summer Shining mean anything to you?"

The directions first given to her by Upper Crust a couple of years ago turned out to be completely accurate. The walk along the hallway seemed to take a while, but that had to be down to her nerves. There were no turns or changes in altitude or direction, and simply by moving forward, Velvet spied a simple dark door at the end of an otherwise dead-end route. It was dark and ominous, standing stalwart against anypony who would try to gain entry - at least, that's what she imagined when she saw it. The barrier was out of sorts with the rest of the palace, looking official and important, and more like it belonged in a military facility than here, in the heart of beauty and elegance.

A bench ran parallel to one of the walls, long enough to accommodate a good seven ponies, at least. Opposite it, nearest the door, was a desk, behind which sat a bespectacled brunette mare fingering an abacus and scribbling onto a piece of paper. The whole setup looked official, and Velvet felt a wave of anxiety as she stepped closer, her hooves sounding unbearably loud to her as she travelled closer. They seemed to echo from the walls, filling the building obnoxiously, and she feared the mare would look up irately and ask her to leave. Was she trespassing? Was this the right place? Doubt started to beset her, and she slowed her approach.

"Hello," the mare at the desk spoke, looking up from her work and smiling warmly. The smile set Velvet at ease, and she returned a smile in kind. "Do you have a password?"

"Summer Shining?"

"Excellent," the mare replied. "Please feel free to take a seat, and we'll get everything done nice and quickly for you. Firstly, is this your first time here? I don't recall seeing you before."

"Is it, yes," Velvet replied, sitting down opposite the desk.

"May I have your name, please?" the mare asked, plucking a sheet of paper from a pile and laying it in front of her, and reaching for her quill.

"Is that necessary?" Velvet asked with a frown, dread pitting in her stomach.

"I'm afraid so," the mare at the desk answered, smiling sympathetically. "There's no need to worry. This is simply policy, and nopony else will see this other than the proper authorities. My entire job rests on the safekeeping of these documents, and to date, I've never failed. If it helps you, my name is Raven Inkwell, and it is my duty to keep records for many matters of state. This duty-" She gestured to the door with her head. "-falls to me, as well."

"Very well," Velvet agreed, wringing her hands nervously. "M-my name is….Twilight Velvet." She winced, swallowing as she gave her details. Raven simply nodded and wrote onto the paper.

"Are you a married mare, Miss Velvet?"

"I…." She couldn't bring herself to admit to it, but her silence and reluctance to answer was enough. Raven nodded again and ticked something on the page.

"Could you please describe the purpose of your visit here today? If you need reassurement, allow me to remind you that this is entirely confidential, and that any breach of confidentiality on my part, or the part of anyone employed by the crown, is punishable by immediate dismissal and indefinite imprisonment. I can't tell you what to say, but you are not the first mare to come here, and you needn't fear judgement or exposure. In your own words, explain why you wish to make use of this service."

It took a painfully long time for Velvet to express any words at all, and for the entire time, Raven was silent, patiently waiting for the explanation. She didn't push, or judge. She just waited. "I've been married to my childhood love since I was eighteen," the grey unicorn revealed at last. "We have a wonderful marriage, and I do truly love him, but….I desperately want….need….to have foals. More than anything else in this world, I want to be a mother. We've been trying for years, but….a-and even when we try, I don't think he knows just how much it hurts me to fail. It's…." She sniffled, and looked up to see a tissue being levitated over to her, which she took, gratefully. "It's not working. I'm desperate."

"Thank you," Raven spoke, the scratch of her quill filling the silence. "Are you aware of the nature of this service?"

"It's a breeding programme, isn't it?"

"Very much so, but there's more to it than that." Seeing Velvet look up and blink in confusion, Raven held up a hand to stop any question she might've been about to ask. "Before I explain any further, I'm afraid I have to ask you to sign a non-disclosure agreement." She reached to another pile of papers and slid a small sliver from the stack, turning it to face Velvet. Reluctantly, the grey mare stood up and walked over to the table, eyeing the wording. It was straightforward and self-explanatory, and there wasn't anything to it. Taking the offered quill, she signed her name on the dotted line, along with the date. "Thank you."

"What's so special about this programme?" she asked, unable to wait even until she'd sat down.

"You might've noticed that this entire system is kept very secret," the desk mare told her, pulling open a drawer and retrieving a thick A4 file. "I won't ask who told you, but I imagine you were informed about this service, and the passphrase, by word-of-mouth, perhaps a friend of yours? And that the details were sparse and deliberately vague?" She waited for Velvet to nod before standing up and stepping around the desk, bringing the file with her. "That's because this is something very important, something that I can't fully explain even if I was authorised to share many details about. The existence of the realm rests on this programme continuing to run, and to run without the interference of an emotionally-charged public's intervention."

Velvet blinked in confusion again, taking the file as it was offered to her. She glanced down at the cover, reading the title; Breeding: The Realm and You; An Explanation of the Equestrian Sustainability Project and the Terms of Participation. Before she could question what that meant, another paper was slipped into her hand, this one seeming to be another agreement to sign.

"Read it," Raven told her, tapping the file and looking Velvet in the eye. "Really read it, every word, and take it all in. It's absolutely vital you understand what you're doing and why, and that you understand what's expected of you. This is a two-way street; we're helping you, and you're helping us. We both have a responsibility to one another, and we're very, very serious about these responsibilities. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Velvet answered, feeling a wash of unease flow through her. Taking a deep breath, she opened the file, gearing up for a long read.

The first half hammered home the absolute importance of the breeding programme for Equestira's future, and how the offspring it produced would be necessary for keeping Equestria running. It didn't explain why, though, only that, as a matter of societal preservation, willing mares were the most important asset Equestria had, and the absolute necessity of secrecy. As a price for what she wanted, it didn't seem too bad. In fact, it seemed noble of her, and she felt herself smile at the thought she was serving the realm.

They didn't need to explain the breeding - any mare who signed up for a breeding programme had her own reasons to do it, and they knew what it was - so the second half was the terms of use of the service, including the state's responsibility to the participants. The offers were eye-wateringly, jaw-droppingly generous; pre-school educational supplements, annual stipends towards child-rearing, guaranteed access to the entry exams for the most prestigious academic institutions in Canterlot, subsidised tuition, optional personal tutelage from a tenured professor, and much more. In addition, there was complete confidentiality, something guaranteed by royal decree. It was hard to believe this was real; all she'd wanted were children, but to have them given a headstart in life, too….how could she say no?

Then came her responsibilities, and she gulped. There was to be absolute secrecy on her part, too. The identity of the sire could never, ever be revealed, even under duress. She was to keep this secret from everyone forevermore, including her own friends and family, from the moment she signed on the dotted line. The children she bore would never know who their true father was. She must live the lie that her children were a product of her marriage, and any failure to do so, honestly or otherwise, would see her imprisoned for treason. She and her husband would raise the children in a normal household, and the benefits she received from the programme would be delivered inconspicuously - random vouchers, cash prizes from lottery tickets, charity donations, tax rebates, unexplained policy changes.

She looked down unblinkingly at the paper. At the bottom was a dotted line, coldly demanding her signature. Above it, an overly verbose and officious statement declared the pledge of the signee to abide by the agreement in perpetuity, without any leniency or deviation. She stared, her heart pounding in slow, powerful slams. Could she do this? It sounded so cold, so heartless, and yet….what was it all for? Something important, obviously. Could she take a blind leap and agree to something of this magnitude, with no way to backtrack after the fact? Would it be the right thing to do, even if she had her own reasons for wanting this?

Stiffly, she stood up, her hooves plodding as she moved towards the desk. Raven watched her, a quiet presence that didn't offer any judgement, and didn't pressure her. It was such a simple thing to do - some squiggles that carried meaning, identifying her in particular. It was just ink on paper, gel on the dried sheet of pulp. Something so materially insignificant, and yet so heavy. Her hand felt heavy as she lifted it, picking up the quill from its inkpot, the grip all wrong. It was hard to do, this very simple action. She swallowed, her throat dry, and tried to steady her hand, to stop the trembling. Steeling herself to write was hard, harder than almost anything she'd done before. It was nearly impossible.

Scratch scratch scratch scratch, dink

She let out a long sigh as she replaced the quill in its well, her body warbling with nervous energy and relief. Signing was hard, but not signing was impossible. Even before she had them, before they existed, she'd do anything for her children.

"Welcome to the programme, Miss Twilight Velvet," Raven intoned brightly, taking the other mare's hand and giving it a squeeze. The grey mare looked up and beamed, the realisation of what had happened beginning to set in. The weight of it, the swell of satisfaction and pride, was too much. She began to sob, happy tears leaking from her eyes. Quickly coming around to the other side of the desk, Raven hugged her and led her to the bench again, sitting the two of them down and sharing comforting words. Velvet fanned herself and laughed, embarrassed by her outburst. Raven assured her it was all okay, and talked to her with a level of empathy that astounded her.

When her emotions subsided, Velvet had a lot more questions, and Raven was happy to answer most of them, in addition to some general advice. She was told to be prepared for the sight of her partner, who would be naked when she stepped into the chamber next door. The door was specially designed to respond to a muting spell, ensuring that the sounds of their rambunctious, lengthy activities couldn't be heard by anyone outside of the chamber. Velvet was both shocked and amused by the revelation that the chamber was occupied at that very moment; the last mare had entered two hours ago, and not once had so much as a peep been heard from inside. One pony served the entire programme, being virile beyond belief as a result of something Raven explained she couldn't share at that moment, and to keep secrecy, the lights were kept off until the door had been closed and the magical safeguards activated. She'd need to stay calm and not let her nerves or imagination cause her to panic.

The rest of the questions were much more mundane. Did she look suitable? Yes, she was drop-dead gorgeous and her partner would take a very strong liking to her. Should she have prepared? No, there was no expectation to turn up in any particular state, and her partner would probably be very frazzled and sweaty by the time it came to her turn, so there was no room to complain on their part. What should she expect? Not to walk by the end of it.

Velvet was smiling when they fell into silence, Raven squeezing her hand supportively. They'd said everything they'd needed to say, and she was comfortable and ready. Her dream was about to come true, and she couldn't stop letting out soft giggles at the thought of it. Whenever an itch of anxiety began to tickle at her mind, she imagined receiving messages of congratulations when she walked down the street, friends and strangers alike stopping to touch her baby bump, asking how far along she was and wishing her well, and the anxiety disappeared in a flash.

A strong vibration from the desk shocked her, and she jumped. Raven looked over and stood up, striding back to her workstation and tapping something out of sight. Immediately, the vibration stopped, and Raven looked over with a gleeful smile, exuding excitement for the other mare.

"That's your cue," the brunette told her, ushering Velvet to her hooves and over to the door. "Just remember, stay calm, be yourself, and enjoy the process. That's as much fun as the result, after all." She offered a friendly visage as the grey unicorn walked towards the dark, square door, trembling a little.

With a THUNK of an unlocking mechanism, and then another, and then another, the door groaned and inched open, inwards. A rush of thick, dry air flowed from the chamber, smacking Velvet in the face as she stood in front of it, as if on the precipice to an ancient, undiscovered tomb. The odour was strong and hot, seeping forth like some noxious gas, but its smell was anything but repulsive. It was almost overwhelming, but it wasn't unappealing; quite the opposite, actually. She found herself drawn towards it, her heart pounding faster as it infiltrated her nose. With a start, she realised she was salivating, and swallowed down the excess pooling in her mouth. Glancing back at Raven, who was pinching her nose, she gave one last smile, receiving a thumbs-up, and turned towards the darkness of the room once again, stepping over the threshold and into the unknown. The door began moving as soon as she was inside, pulled back into its closed position through unknown means, and clanking shut heavily, extinguishing any remaining light that had managed to make its way inside.

CLICK

CLACK

CLICK

The mechanisms sealed once again, and then silence fell. She could've been standing in a void, surrounded by nothing but the endless expanse of ether, kept company by nothing but the roar of blood in her ears, the drumming of her heart in her ribcage, and the dense, heavy pressure of the stink that swirled and crept thickly around her. It pressed against her body, it sat on her coat and mingled with her fur, it flowed into her nose and throat as she breathed, saturating her lungs and permeating her tongue and sinuses. She couldn't stop drooling, the smell building up a desperate need in her that the nervousness had managed to suppress up until this moment. As she rubbed her legs together, trying to scratch an itch that had materialised warmly on her inner thighs, she felt the squish of her panties, and realised she wasn't just drooling from one orifice.

Her ears perked as she made out a noise in the darkness. It wasn't just silent, after all; she could hear a pattern, a repeated noise, sounding guttural and heavy. As she listened closer, she realised what it was - swallowing. Someone was taking deep gulps of something, and then, with a exhalation and a gasp, there was a thud. Something was breathing heavily, barely a pause between their full inhales and exhales. There was a click, and then the gulping returned, replacing the heaving breaths for tens of seconds, before the other creature gasped once more.

"Just a moment," they breathed at last, a husky voice filling the room. "That last one was a tough cookie, and I've got to hydrate if I want to take proper care of you, my little pony." The gulping continued, leaving Velvet standing alone as the unseen pony drank through another container of what she presumed was water. The unicorn counted another two containers before the chamber's other occupant slammed it down for a final time, letting out a huge sigh. "Now that that's been taken care of….let's see what we're dealing with, hm?"

A clap of palms slapping together shattered the room's stilted ambience, but before Velvet could wince at the harsh crack, fires roared to life around her, igniting from every angle to illuminate the chamber in a golden hue. It wasn't too bright, nor too dark, and she blinked at the oddly perfect balance that had been struck. Her eyes roamed the room briefly, inevitably falling on the pony she'd heard all this time.

Her eyes widened, and her jaw dropped at the sight of what greeted her.

"Oh...fuck," she whimpered.