Like Bunnies

Chapters

1. Fluttershy, Ponyville Market, Hostgust 14th 1054 GCE
2. Fluttershy, The Queequeg's by the Ponyville Train Station, Hotgust 14th 1054 GCE
3. Macintosh, Berry's Bar, Hotgust 16th 1054 GCE
4. Cheerilee, Berry's Bar, Hotgust 16th 1054 GCE
5. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres, Hotgust 17th 1054 GCE
7. Macintosh, Berry's Bar and Surrounds, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE
8. Twilight Sparkle, Golden Oak Library, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE
9. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres North Fields, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE
6. Fluttershy, The Alley Behind Berry's Bar, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE
Footnotes

1. Fluttershy, Ponyville Market, Hostgust 14th 1054 GCE

Author's Note

This chapter is mostly exposition, perving, and some public urination and masturbation.

“Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot.” — Mark Twain

1. Fluttershy, Ponyville Market, Hostgust 14th 1054 GCE

Fluttershy sneaked across Ponyville on tippy-hoof, stalking her prey. Her subtle, swift movements took inspiration from the cunning vole. Because have you ever seen a vole stalking anything? Neither had Fluttershy. They were that good. She scurried through alleys, behind carts, and at last between a rain barrel and the back of a tea shop.

Her quarry was large, slow-moving, and oblivious. That helped.

She was an attractive young mare, twenty summers old, soft-seeming, especially in the hindquarters, but rugged and durable underneath. Close examination of her silky yellow coat would reveal a myriad of tiny scars, mostly claw scratches and bite marks, hallmarks of her dedication to caring for her non-speaking friends. Weekly hooficures with Rarity left her hoof wall neatly trimmed and shiny, but could not conceal the places where daily hard labor had left them chipped or scratched.

Today she wore her long, straight pink mane and tail up in buns to prevent them from getting in the way while she engaged in stealthy shenanigans. She was acutely aware, and happy, nay, delighted that this left her hindquarters exposed to any creature whose alert gaze could penetrate her stealth. Though the outer curve of her fat-padded gluteus maximus protruded almost a full hoof out from the depths of her ass crack, occasional rays of sunshine still gleamed on the smooth, leathery flesh of her poutine protruding pussy and ponut.

Yes, Fluttery was a fabulous young piece of tail, and wretchedly kinky, to boot. A prize for young farmer Macintosh, if she could ever find a way to let him know.

Even after Luna’s recent introduction of a diamond standard for the bit, small settlements like Ponyville still operated on a barter economy to a great extent. Macintosh’s job on Humpdays, as far as Fluttershy could surmise from her observations of the Apple Family’s patterns, was to go around to the vendors with samples of apples setting up trades for things the Apple family needed.

Fluttershy knew this was her chance to talk to him. She just didn’t know how to take advantage of that opportunity. But she wanted to talk to him so badly! When she met him on the farm, it was hard to get past the ‘um, hi’ and ‘eyup’ stage of the conversation before Applejack literally butted in, positioning her burly little body between the two taller ponies at every turn.

Macintosh was a gorgeous piece of stallionflesh. He towered over her and given that Fluttershy was herself taller than many stallions, that meant a lot to her. She wanted to be the small pony in a relationship! He was thick, thick everywhere, from his jaw to his neck to his shoulders to his ass. Muscles shifted slow and graceful beneath his crimson hide like the movements of continents, padded and smoothed by a layer of cuddly fat.

His balls, left exposed by his scandalously short tail crop, hung like forbidden fruit, heavy and firm. Sunlight glowed on their bare mahogany skin; gleamed on the small wrinkles at the top.

His sheath hung heavy beneath his rounded tummy, promising intense delight for the mare who didn’t mind a bit of pain with her pleasure. She’d snuck a view of him urinating once, his hose, as long as her foreleg even in repose, hanging nearly to the ground, disgorging a waterfall of acrid, pheromone-rich amber wine. And there was so much of it! Gallons and gallons, wasted on the ground when they could be in her tummy. Hidden in the bushes, she’d had ample time to rub herself to completion, hoof moving fast between her plump thighs. She’d washed up afterward, but Applejack had smelled it on her, and given her a withering glare that had only made the whole experience more worthwhile.

But it wasn’t just his body. His shaggy yellow mane and the short, scruffy beard along his rugged jaw begged to be caressed and straightened. His sensitive green eyes spoke of hidden depths beneath his laconic exterior. His love for his family was obvious. He was kind and polite and quiet. He seemed like a good pony. Which was a rare thing.

Hopefully not too good though. A prince in the streets and a bastard between the sheets would be ideal.

Anyway.

It was so hard to talk to ponies! Especially ponies who didn’t talk much themselves! Pinkie and Twilight had given her some lessons on social skills. You needed to ask ponies questions. They liked that. So she needed a window in which to ask a question, and then something to ask him a question about. Some common point of interest to break the ice. If only he would go trade for chickens or something! Then she could ask him how his rooster was doing. He would be amazed by how much she knew about cocks and he’d ask her to show off her knowledge.

But no. He’d been at the toolmaker’s stall for twenty minutes already and showed no sign of moving on. Fluttershy knew almost nothing about tools. She didn’t know any good questions to ask about them?

Her current hideout behind a rain barrel was starting to draw attention. Confused and worried glances from the simple, honest ponies of Ponyville prickled the back of her neck.

So Fluttershy darted across the street to the flower shop and hunkered down between two pots of begonias. She could get a better view of Macintosh’s colossal, square, implacable buttocks from here. Yes indeed, that bobbed tail of his didn’t hide much. Not the piquant protruding pucker of his ponut, not the perfect path of his perineum. His balls hung down like a couple of over-ripe mangoes, deep reddish-brown and gleaming with fresh summer sweat. She thought about slowly sucking one of those fine salty nuts into her mouth. Rolling it back and forth between her tongue and the ridged skin of her hard palate.

His husky moans echoed through her imagination.

She backed up against the pot behind her, the rim sinking into her soft cheeks until the delicate pistil of her clit hit hard ceramic. Then she started to gyrate side to side, wetting the pit edge so that her clit could slide back and forth along the slightly rough surface. Electric jolts of pleasure tingled up her spine. Leaves and flower petals tickled her back. Her wings spread with arousal.

“Can I help you?” said Roseluck from behind her.

Fluttershy squeaked. The rocking of the begonia pot, displaced by the motion of her colossal ass cheeks, must have given her away! She darted in between two pots of rhododendrons, where her covert masturbatory activities would be less obvious. “No. I’m fine. Please go away.”

Roseluck bent down and glared into the flowery bower formed by the flowering bushes. “I see you in there, you sick sex freak. You’re buying those flowers.”

Minutes later, she was ten bits poorer and carrying a slightly damp pot of begonias on her back. She passed Macintosh testing a hammer, holding it in his jaws and tapping it against a sample of wood, an intent expression on his shaggy, angular face. He didn’t even look her way. Oh, how she wished that face could be between her hind legs, his attention focused on her aching, frustrated clit instead of that stupid hammer. Or better yet, nestled under her tail, where…

“What’re you doing?” said a voice from directly behind her, heavy with a gooey country accent and also with angry contempt.

Fluttershy froze in panic. While she had been imitating the stealth of the subtle forest vole, she had neglected to imitate the wariness of the humble sea sponge, which alone amongst all the denizens of the animal kingdom was never startled or surprised.

There was always the path of the cowardly possum. Maybe if she held her breath and didn’t look directly at her, Applejack would go away.

“Fluttershy! Don’t you dare go avoidant on me,” said Applejack, stepping out of the narrow cone of vision behind Fluttershy’s back where her vision didn’t reach.

“I am not Fluttershy. I am a decorative planter.”

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you,” said Applejack coldly.

“A bone to pick? With me? Oh, no thanks. I’m vegan.”

“You’re not vegan. I know you eat the meat you make for your animals.” The young mare, two years Fluttershy’s junior, was every bit as strong as her brother. Her chest and shoulders were incredibly powerful for a mare, and Fluttershy would have loved to lick the summer sweat off that buzz-cut orange coat. Sadly, her investigations when she’d started socializing with her after Twilight had come to town two months ago had determined that Applejack was the token straight member of their group.

Fluttershy was all for diversity, of course, but she was a mare with needs. Her eyes flicked back towards Macintosh. He’d turned sideways to look at a worktable, hiding his balls, but showing her the sublime thickness of his chest and thighs. His sheath, massive even in repose, wobbled under his belly. She clutched her hooves to her chest, and let out a sigh of wistful longing. A stream of sticky moisture trickled down the inside of her left hind leg.

Applejack stomped her hoof and walked around to put her hat between Fluttershy’s eyes and Macintosh’s penis. “You are creepin’ on my brother.”

Fluttershy tilted her head back away from Applejack. “That’s not true. I only eat a little meat. If I make too much. It’s disrespectful to the creature who died to let it go to waste.”

“That’s... Harmony darn it, don’t change the topic.” Applejack leaned her face close to Fluttershy’s, eyes narrow, fuming with judgment. “You’re creepin’. You’re stalking it. Stop it.”

“I’m not creeping. I’m just shy. . It’s in my name. Fluttershy” she said, moving her hooves side to side in the air as if demonstrating the construction of an imaginary floating word. “I don’t know what you were expecting from me. Social skills?” Taller than Applejack, she couldn’t help but gaze along the other mare’s broad, muscular back, along the furrow of her spine to the swell of her haunches. Such a pity she didn’t go in for sapphic pleasures; those thighs looked like they could crush her skull. The big muscles were like coconuts!

“Eye contact, sugar cube,” said Applejack, hooking her hoof under Fluttershy’s jaw and pulling her head around. “Listen, I’m not gonna mince words: you need to leave my brother alone.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” said Fluttershy, her head slumping sullenly in Applejack’s grip. “I want to show him kindness.” Intimate, sweaty kindness.

“Goldarnit, Fluttershy, that ain’t what this is about. I ain’t worried about Mac. He can take care of his own dang self. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Fluttershy narrowed her eyes in irritation. “I can take care of myself, too.”

“For buck’s sake Fluttershy, just come with me. We gotta talk.”

2. Fluttershy, The Queequeg's by the Ponyville Train Station, Hotgust 14th 1054 GCE

Author's Note

Contains vague references to Fluttershy's early sexual experiences that some (including the author) might find disturbing. Also contains references to incest. Why can't I write nice things?

Also before anyone @s mea bout it, Fluttershy's cottage has always been an animal shelter and I don't know what the point of Fluttershy Leans In was supposed to be.

2. Fluttershy, The Queequeg's by the Ponyville Train Station, Hotgust 14th 1054 GCE

The Queequeg's cafe down by the train station gleamed with homogenized corporate perfection, from the dark polished floors to the plasticized gleam of the pre-packaged pastries, to the cheerful efficiency of the uniformed employees. Fluttershy hated it here.

“We could have gone to Sugarcube,” said Fluttershy to Applejack as they waited in the long line to order. She felt exposed here. Too much open space, too many unfamiliar ponies. She liked Sugarcube, where one of her few friends worked and where she knew everypony, at least well enough to know that none of them was going to grope or attack her. She wished she still had her decorative planter disguise, but Applejack had insisted she leave ‘them crotch-smelling begonias’ by the door.

“No, we can’t. Too many ponies we know go there. Nopony comes to this Queequeg's but tourists and ponies waiting for a train. And what we gotta talk about here is family shame.”

“Oh! Family shame?” said Fluttershy, wings fluffing out with interest.

“What can I get started for you?” said the chubby little unicorn barista, smiling a professional smile.

“I’ll have a trenta apple macchiato with an extra shot of espresso,” said Applejack.

“Great, and for you?” said the Barista.

“Um… Coffee?” said Fluttershy, who had been too busy worrying to take time to look at the menu.

“Light roast or dark?”

Fluttershy’s eyes widened until the whites showed all around. She was not ready to make such a momentous decision on such short notice. “Guh?”

“Um… Light roast or dark?” repeated the barista, looking concerned.

“Light?” said Fluttershy, hesitant, trembling. Dark sounded scary.

“Tall, grande, or venti?

Fluttershy crouched down until only her ears poked up over the edge of the counter.“I… I don’t know what any of that means.”

“Oh, for Harmony’s sake. Just give her a tall dark roast, light with cream, with a hazelnut shot and a salted caramel drizzle, okay? C’mon, Shy. Let’s get you comfortable.” Applejack guided her to a back corner booth where she could see the door, then went to wait for the drinks.

Fluttershy gazed around the Queequeg's sullenly. Applejack had meant well in picking this seat, but there was no easy access to exits from here. She supposed she could throw Applejack at any dangers that appeared, be they monsters or overly friendly strangers. As soon as she came back. She hunched down in the plastic-coated seat like a newly cutie marked filly out with her mom, wings hanging limply at her sides. Her forelock slid out of her bun and fell over her left eye. She let it stay there.

Why was she here? Why was this any of Applejack’s business? This place was making her uncomfortable, and she’d been out long enough that she was starting to get separation anxiety from her animals. Were they all okay? Yes, Angel had promised he and his cousins would keep an eye on things, and yes, they did run her animal shelter like a prison camp while she was out, but that itself could be a problem. Like that time they’d organized a firing squad to punish the capybaras for messing in the cottage. She’d arrived just in time to stop the execution, and Angel had promised never to do that or anything remotely like it ever again. But the capybaras had picked up a smoking habit from their last cigarettes and they left their butts everywhere.

Applejack plopped Fluttershy’s drink down in front of her and sat across from her in the booth. Fluttershy sniffed cautiously at her drink, checking for tell-tale signs of poisoning. Applejack was apparently a horrible bitch who interfered with her friends’ sexual autonomy, but she wouldn’t poison her. The same couldn’t be said for those shady baristas. “So what’s the problem? Why am I here? What’s wrong with Macintosh. Is he gay?”

Applejack sighed and slumped in her seat. “No? Yes? He don’t seem particular. Our Macintosh, he’s a bit of a swordspony.”

“Swordspony?” said Fluttershy, brows knitting with confusion. She’d never seen Macintosh near anything more deadly than a firewood ax.

“It’s fancy talk for ‘he sleeps around a lot,” said Applejack, looking sadly at her coffee, "And I wish I didn't need to know the term."

Fluttershy’s face brightened. “Oh! I get it! The sword is his penis!” Informed of this exciting news Fluttershy tried very hard to keep a goofy smirk off her face and her wings folded modestly at her sides. “Anyway, um, you don’t say. That’s… um… terrible.” If Macintosh was that easy, she could shift her plans from ‘getting to know him’ to ‘persuading him to let her be his personal training dummy’.

Applejack looked around to make sure nopony was eavesdropping. “First there was Caramel. I done told him it’s not appropriate to hammer the hired help but he didn’t listen and I had to let poor Caramel go. Then there was that whole disaster with Miss Cheerilee. That was pretty normal, except he cheated on that poor mare constantly. Then there was that baker pony, whatever her name was.”

“Pinkie?”

“Gol darn it Fluttershy I know what Pinkie’s name is!” Applejack narrowed her eyes. “Though now that you mention it I’ve seen the two of them slipping out of Berry’s bar together a time or two.”

Fluttershy mock-gasped. “But Pinkie’s your cousin!”

Applejack took a sip of her drink to steady her nerves. “Oh, he ain’t shy about cousins. Him and Braeburn are all over each other every family reunion. And something happened between Marble and him, but neither one of them’s talking.”

Fluttershy decided the coffee wasn’t poisoned if Applejack hadn’t dropped dead. She pushed her mane out of her face and leaned in to scoop the salted caramel off the top. The hot ropes of gooey, salty-sweet goodness warmed her belly and made her think of Macintosh squirting in her mouth. Which made her feel sad that the fantasy wasn’t real, mad at Applejack for getting in the way of that fantasy, and so horny she felt a puddle forming in the plasticized fabric under her butt. “So why is any of that a problem?” she said, her voice half-muffled by caramel.

“Because I don’t want you getting hurt, Fluttershy! You’re kind of a… well. I don’t wanna be mean. But you’re kind of a shut-in. You don’t know how the world works. And Macintosh is a very worldly pony.”

Fluttershy lapped up another mouthful of coffee. it was good, but she missed the caramel. “That’s not a very nice thing to say.”

Applejack took off her hat and rubbed the top of her head. “I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Shy, I’m just trying to protect you.”

Fluttershy batted her eyelashes. “Because I’m so sweet and widdle and innocent?”

“Um…”

“I was pretty young the first time I let Rainbow Dash use me. I didn’t understand what she was doing, but I let her do it because I loved her. Pretty soon I got to love what she was doing to me, too. It would have been perfect, except of course this was Rainbow Dash and she didn’t want to be ‘tied down’.” Fluttershy hooked her hooves in the air when she got to the scare quotes. “So she used to pass me around to her friends. Which was a lot of fun.”

Applejack’s mouth slipped open.

“But then, of course, because this is Rainbow Dash, and because she didn’t want to be ‘tied down’,” she made the scare quote hooves again, “She dumped me as soon as things started getting serious between us. As if I wouldn’t let her sleep around! So I moved to Ponyville to open my animal shelter and a few months later who comes crawling back down to the ground with her tail between her legs? That’s right. Rainbow Dash.” Shy wiggled her hips against the booth seat, spreading mare goo across it. “Guess she can’t stay away from this.”

“Fluttershy, that’s horrifying!”

Fluttershy blinked, legitimately confused. “Why? It was all consensual and amongst my peers.But Rainbow isn’t getting any more of the Flutterbutt until she apologizes for breaking my heart. After that I’ been mostly flying solo. I Or I was until Rainbow introduced me to your group. I’m always welcome in Pinkie’s bed. I’m a little vanilla for Rarity, but she and Twilight have taught me a lot of things. You know all those nasty rumors about Canterlot Unicorns? Turns out they’re true. Like, I was scared to try pee stuff, but Rarity broke me in gently and now I can’t get enough.”

“I’m just going to expunge that last sentence from my memory. You never said that, okay?”

Fluttershy shrugged. “I don’t care if you judge me for liking pee.”

“Judge you for what? I don’t remember you saying nothing about pee. But… wait, that’s all of our group but me!”

“Yep.”

“Dangit, I don’t know how I feel about that. If they’re with you, that means they’re probably all crosswise amongst each other, too. That’s fine, it’s none of my business, but…”

Fluttershy slid a hoof halfway across the table. “Do you feel left out? If you’re curious, we can cuddle and see what happens.”

Applejack sputtered. “No! No, I…” She covered her face with her hat and started to hyperventilate into it.

“Deep breaths,” advised Fluttershy. “Don’t try to fight the panic. Just let it wash over you.”

A minute or two of controlled breathing later, Applejack peeked over her hat. “I misjudged you, Fluttershy. And not in a good way. I’m tryin’ not to judge you now.”

Fluttershy shrugged. “I’m not ashamed. I like sex. It makes me happy, and it’s a way to get close to other ponies without having to talk to them much.” As she spoke, a wicked little idea wormed its way into her mind. She pushed her mane out of her face. “Oh! Just had an idea!”

Applejack leaned back and looked at Fluttershy sidelong. “I don’t know if I wanna hear this.”

“If you’re uncomfortable with Macintosh exploring his sexuality… well. I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging?” She wiggled her hips in her seat suggestively. “But nopony’s ever said no to another taste of this once they’ve had a sample. If Macintosh and I were to become involved, I’d be able to keep an eye on him for you. Keep him out of trouble.”

Applejack narrowed her eyes. “Out of trouble?”

Fluttershy blushed. “Well, I’d do my best.”

Applejack took a sip of her coffee. Then another. Fluttershy could tell she was thinking and didn’t interrupt her. “I’m scared for him. I’m afraid he’s gonna get some disease, or get somepony pregnant and it’s gonna be a huge shame for the whole family.”

Fluttershy bit her lower lip. Oh hey Applejack did I mention I want to have foals? I love caring for small creatures and also getting knocked up is hot, and I hear some mares get incredibly horny when they’re pregnant. I’m not getting any younger and I’m just looking for the right stallion before I ask Twilight to take off the birth control spells. Maybe not a good time to bring that up. “You know,” she said, “I do go to Twilight for checkups and birth control spells pretty regularly. I could take him with me.”

“Twilight ain’t a doctor.”

“Not a doctor of medicine, sure. But she’s a horny little magic pony,” said Fluttershy, looking down to hide her smirk. “And that’s just as good, right?”

Applejack puffed air out through her nostrils. “ If you start sleeping with him, is it just gonna be you, or is gonna be you and all your friends?”

“Um, I wasn’t planning on doing a lot of sleeping with Mac.”

“Fluttershy! Try and take this seriously!”

Fluttershy reached forward and put both hooves on Applejack’s. She looked her in the eye. “Not everyone can stay with one pony for their whole lives, Applejack. I’m not promising you to make him an honest stallion for you. I’m promising to help him safely be himself.”

Applejack held Fluttershy’s gaze. Fluttershy’s instinct was to look away demurely, but she fought it—the staredown felt like Applejack testing her. Like if she looked away she was weak? Or not worthy of Macintosh? Or something silly like that? Fluttershy didn’t see things that way, but she stared back without blinking.

Long seconds passed. Her eyes were getting dry. Was Applejack done yet? She felt herself aging, her biological clock ticking inexorably. She was tired of being around other ponies, and she needed to get back to the animal shelter.

“All right,” Applejack said at last. “I ain’t sure about this, but this is what we’re gonna do.”

3. Macintosh, Berry's Bar, Hotgust 16th 1054 GCE

Author's Note

There's sex in this one! Public gay rimming and anal sex in a restroom stall!

3. Macintosh, Berry's Bar, Hotgust 16th 1054 GCE

Berry’s Bar, the social epicenter for Ponyvilliains of low class and lower morals, hunkered in the basement under a record shop, visible only by a shingle featuring a strawberry and a grape and a set of stone stairs leading underground. Macintosh, tired from another long day on the farm but thirsty for some cider and company, thumped his way down those stairs and pushed open the door.

Lanterns hung from the bare ceiling rafters, glowing dim yellow. A rumbling murmur of conversation filled the air. He raised his head high to get a good view over the crowded floor, looking for friends. Caramel, sitting on cushions around a low table at the back with his friends Fahrenheit and Captain Fantastic, caught his eye and waved him over. Macintosh grinned, happy to see his oldest lover. He squeezed through the mass of ponies, muttering polite, unheard apologies.

Caramel leaned up from his cushion to kiss Macintosh on the jaw. Fahrenheit and Fantastic offered polite ‘aye, mate’s.

“Ain’t no place for me to sit,” said Macintosh.

Caramel scooted over on his cushion and batted his eyelashes. “You can sit on my face and tell me that you love me.”

“I’d break your fool neck,” said Macintosh, all but pushing the smaller male off the cushion with his burly bulk.

The little brown horse, with his swishy mane, his big blue eyes, and his fat, girlish bottom, draped himself over Macintosh’s back. “Look, he’s got a butt you can rest your drink on!” Caramel said, resting his drink on Macintosh’s butt.

“How is that in any way unusual, mate?” said Fantastic, a pink unicorn wearing a sequined blue jacket, straw boater hat, and round glasses.

“You could rest a whole round of drinks on that keister. Smell funny after, though,” said Fahrenheit, a lean yellow earth pony with a neat black mustache and a cutie mark of an exploding thermometer.

Caramel put his nose over Macintosh’s tail and inhaled deeply. “Smells fine to me.”

“Apple whiskey, neat, cider chaser,” said Macintosh to the waitress.

“So I was saying,” said Fahrenheit. “The AE6100 is an over-engineered piece of bullshit.”

“You’re bullshit,” said Fantastic, “And all you care about in a microphone is if you can wave it around on stage like it’s your dick.”

“Like I’ve got any objection to waving my dick around on stage.”

“You use a 565SD, right?” said Caramel.

Macintosh tuned out the conversation. Farhenheit and Fantastic were musicians, and pretty incredible ones at that, but it was almost all they ever talked about and while Caramel was enough of a sound nerd to hold his own, Macintosh never had any idea.1 He let their voices wash over him like he always did when the four of them were together. He didn’t need to talk. They were decent guys who were happy to let him listen to them, and sometimes the four of them got together for a ‘jam session’ of the kind even Macintosh could understand at Caramel’s place after last call.

In the meanwhile, Macintosh just let the sense of being where he was wash over him. While he was hardly an extravert, he appreciated the significance of being part of a herd, even a temporary and casual one like the one that gathered at Berry’s most nights of the week. He closed his eyes, listened to the murmur of voices blending into one soft roar, the scents of dozens of ponies and other creatures blending into one warm soft haze. He wrinkled up his lip to hold those smells. Hoof dirt, perfume, cologne, sweat, the sour-sweet smell of wine and beer and the crisper, more aggressive smell of hard liquor.

And. Something else. The pungent, sweet smell of a mare in heat.

“Are you awake, there, big guy?” said a sultry female voice.

Macintosh opened his eyes. The waitress, a cream-colored, brown-maned earth pony mare, looked cute in her little black apron. She was the same height standing up as he was lying down. which was tallish for a mare. “Hey,” he said, looking into her blue eyes. Her lashes were long and thick and her expression was spicy-sweet. As she set his bowl of cider and his shot glass on the low table between the four friends, he observed the jiggle in her hips. He inhaled, drinking in the scent of her. Older than him by a few years, she had a mellower smell than most of the mares he’d been close to. Her fur had a little less luster, her barrel some extra softness.

His nose brushed her ear on the way back up.

“Oh. Excuse me,” she said, blushing.

“My fault,” said Macintosh. He watched her bounce away. Her tail flicked a little to one side; was it his imagination that she glanced back as she did? In the low diffuse light of the bar, all he could see was the gentle curve of her buttocks into shadows that kept their secrets, shadows whose very depth made his heart stammer and stutter.

Blunt teeth closed on the side of his ear.

“You like her,” said Caramel.

He flicked his ear against the end of Caramel’s snout. “Eyup. Ain’t seen her here before? She new?”

“Just started working the bar, but I’ve seen her around town. I think she has a kid.”

“Married?”

“Dunno,” said Caramel, “But I don’t think you’re getting her tonight.” He ran his tongue along the edge of Macintosh’s ear. “Wanna go take the edge off?”

Macintosh let out a rumbling sigh. “Is your ass ready?”

“Boss, my ass is a twenty-four/seven convenience store. It’s always open.”

“In a high traffic area,” said Farhenheit.

“Slippery when wet,” said Fantastic. “Wear your rubbers.”

“We prefer to ride bareback,” said Caramel.

Macintosh stood up. “Now you’re mixing metaphors, and I gotta see a horse about a horse.” Caramel let out a high-pitched squeak, wrapping his forelegs around Macintosh’s neck so he didn’t slide off his back. Macintosh carried him past the bar and down the narrow corridor to the restroom, rocking his hips side to side cheerfully and arhythmically. He was gonna get some! Caramel might not be his favorite fuck toy, he might not love him exactly, but he had an ass thar wouldn’t quit on the outside or the inside..

He nosed open the rough, frosted-glass door and let Caramel slide off his back. “I seriously do gotta piss. Don’t suppose you wanna try...?”

Caramel laugh. “For the millionth time, fuck no!”

Macintosh huffed. “Nopony wants to do that with me.”

Caramel pushed his back up against Macintosh’s haunch and pushed, hind hooves skidding on the restroom floor. “That’s because it’s gross. I mean not to kinkshame. It’s a perfectly acceptable fetish. I just don’t want to ever do it or hear anything about it. I’ll join you in the stall when you’re done.”

Macintosh sighed. He hated public restroom stalls; he always had to hunch up to hit the hole.2 And, as excited as he was by the older mare’s flirtiness and Caramel’s willingness, he was hard almost to the point of flaring, which made it harder to aim.

He got pee on his hooves. Out of respect for Caramel’s preferences, he wiped himself off as best he could before calling the smaller stallion in.

Caramel closed the stall door behind him, cramming himself into the small space behind Macintosh’s ass. Macintosh put his hooves on the wall and leaned up, giving Caramel more room. He heard the other male sniffing back there, then felt the cool, soft touch of his tongue on his ponut. He licked slowly around the puffy, leathery edge, wetting it, cleaning it of the day’s sweat and grime. His tongue slid against his dock, and up and down the delicate insides of his cheeks where the fur grew thin.

“Get under me, you little slut,” moaned Macintosh. “You’re teasing me.”

Caramel ignored him. With a soft ‘puthp’ noise he spat on Macintosh’s taint. The viscous fluid trickled down to roll over the top of his balls, and he rubbed it in with his tongue. Electric tingles jangled up his nerves to his prostate which expressed its delight by sending out a load of pre that echoed when it plopped into the toilet hole. The randy little male sucked each of his balls in turn, then wriggled in between Macintosh’s thighs to nibble the thin skin where his sack hung down beneath the base of his cock.

“I need to put it in you,” moaned Mac. “C’mon, I’m gonna shoot on the floor.”

“Patience, patience, horny guy,” said Caramel. He licked the belly of Macintosh’s cock, tracing down the veins, over the medial ring. Another dollop of pre dripped into the toilet. “I wanna get you fully flared. My ass is so stretched out I can barely feel it if you’re not.”

“That’s a damn lie. You’re ass is so tight it hurts, and I need it.”

“Maybe a little white lie. But I like the pain just like you do.”

Caramel was most of the way under him now. Macintosh’s shaft was longer than Caramel’s torso, and he wiggled up against it as he licked at the edge of the flare, his cheek and neck against the shaft. The crease his spine made between his back muscles cradled its length, and Macintosh’s balls pressed against his pillowy ass. Macintosh wanted to play with the little stallion’s body, but in the tight confines of the stall, all he could do was reach down and wrap a foreleg around Caramel’s round belly, pressing his hoof against the top of his cockshaft. He bucked his hips, sliding his cock against Caramel’s back. The soft hairs of his coat tickled his dick’s skin; it sent another jangle of pleasure up into his body and got Caramel a squirt of pre across his snout. Macintosh quickened his humping, riding Caramel like a horny dog on its master’s leg. He felt the rush of extra blood to his cock, spreading his flare from ‘wide’ to ‘scalloped mushroom head big enough to sit on.’

“Oh! That’ll do it!"

Caramel scurried forward under Macintosh; he had to climb halfway up the wall to get the spread flare between his cheeks. Macintosh balanced his forehead against the tiled restroom wall and grabbed Caramel, stuffing his mouth with his hoof and pinning him against his cider gut with a hoof under his belly. He jammed his cock against Caramel’s ponut. It refused to go in, just bouncing off the surface and up under his dock.

The smaller male moaned something that might’ve been ‘lower’ into Macintosh’s hoof. Mac pulled his hips back and thrust. He felt the partly-open pucker of Caramel’s ass cradle his flare; he wiggled and it gave way and he popped inside.

The hot, close confines of Caramel’s ass clutched him, slippery and silky on the end of his dick. Hungry for more of the delirious, delectable sensation of the little slut’s intestines around his cock, he pumped, working his way in. Caramel’s tubby tummy pushed out as his dick filled it.

Macintosh growled like a timber wolf and pressed his hoof in deep, stroking his own shaft through Caramel’s flesh.

Spit and tears soaked the hoof blocking Caramel’s mouth. A flicker of worry danced through Macintosh’s mind, afraid he was hurting his little friend. But they’d been over this—he was hurting Caramel, and Caramel liked it. They had their signals worked out. If there was a problem, Caramel would let him know. Until then, he could take his pleasure as roughly as he wanted.

Which he did. His balls glowed white hot, begging for release, but he willed them to hold in their load. Caramel’s body was a slick sleeve around him, fitting him like a condom, fucked into perfect shape in dozens and dozens of encounters. His flare pushed into the rubbery, flexible, ductile depths of Caramel’s sturdy little body, took him so deep that his balls pressed against those luscious fat ass cheeks before he hit the limit. The little male’s heartbeat trembled against his flare, pulsing fast. His lungs squeezed and unsqueezed, massaging Macintosh’s meat.

Caramel’s body stiffened under him. His muscles tensed. His hind hoof hammered on the floor. Macintosh grinned. He had memorized Caramel's reactions and every curve, crevice and recess of his body. He knew the signs of a gay little pony who was ready to pop, and he knew exactly how far to pull back so that his medial ring rubbed against the poor little guy’s prostate. He did that now, grinding down, fucking him with short, fast thrusts.

Caramel’s ass twitched around him.

Macintosh twisted his hoof to block Caramel’s nostrils, sealing off his breath. Felt the sharp inhale of breath against his frog. The sweet, soft glove of his body clenched around his dick. The powerful muscles of his anal ring clenched down, pinching his cock so hard it felt like it might cut it in half.

A muffled, blissful groan slipped out around the edges of Macintosh’s hooves.

Caramel’s cum made soft little thumps against the floor and the toilet bowl.

Macintosh removed his hoof, allowing him to breathe again.

“Fuck me hard!” he whined! “Cum in me! I need it!”

Macintosh jammed his hips forward. He heard the coconut-like noise of Caramel’s head hitting the bathroom wall. He released the grip of the muscles holding the damn behind his prostate closed, and felt the flood of cum rushing past it, accompanied by a feeling like the singing of angels.

Then it was backing out, nice and slow. A complicated procedure, with him so deep in there and Caramel relatively delicate, at least compared to a pony who had more than once wandered through a stone fence while lost in thought and not noticed. He scooped his little buddy into his forelegs to give him a cuddle, and Caramel wriggled around so they could kiss.

“That was amazing,” said Caramel.

“Eyup.”

“You’re amazing.”

“Nope. You.”

Caramel giggled. “All right, you’re my best fuckbuddy, but it’s getting crowded in this stall. Why don’t you go and hang out, and I’ll clean up while I wait for my ass to close.”

“You sure?”

“Sure and certain. And if that adorable waitress mommy gets a whiff my sex on you and wants to have a turn, you go for it, okay? Don’t worry about me.”

Macintosh kissed him on the forehead. “I wasn’t gonna, little guy.”

He cleaned up a bit at the sink and strutted back to the corner Fahrenheit and Fantastic were holding down for them. There was no sign of the hot waitress except a fresh cider and whiskey. Macintosh nodded to his friends as he sat down. He took the shot glass between his lips and tossed it back, enjoying the way it burned down his throat. He licked several tonguefuls from his bowl of cider before he noticed how uncharacteristically silent his attention-whore friends were being. Fahrenheit was doodling on a bar napkin with a pencil in his mouth, and Fantastic held the place in the middle of a magazine with his hoof.

“You two okay?” said Macintosh.

“Fine, fine,” said Fantastic, looking anxious. “Nothing going on. Nopony walked into the bar while you were out. Hey, mate, you like apples, right? Look at this photo of an apple I found in this magazine! Isn’t that neat? What kind of apple is that?”

Macintosh narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Jonagold. Why are you actin’ weird?”

Fahrenheit held up his napkin. “Hey! Look at this picture of a mare with a big dick I drew! It’s really interesting, right? Bet you wanna look at this for a while and definitely not look towards the bar.”

Fantastic nodded, his boater cap wobbling back and forth.

“Fahrenheit, you’re a great singer,” said Macintosh.

“Why thank you.”

“But your drawing sucks.”

“Bollocks!” said Fahrenheit, crumpling up the napkin.

“So what am I supposed to not look at?”

“Mate, if we told you, you’d look.”

Macintosh roll his eyes and turned his head. He didn’t have to turn it far before she came into the near-circle of his pony vision cone.

Cheerilee, pink and purple and curvy, leaning over the bar to shout her order in Berry’s ear.

His heart dropped with panic. His belly rose in anxiety. They bounced off each other in the middle.

“Don’t go talk to her,” said Fahrenheit.

“You’re a butterfly, and butterflies are free to fly. Fly away,” said Fantastic.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” said Fahrenheirt.

“Thanks. Brown Dirt Cowboy wrote it for me the other day.”

“I wish I had a Brown Dirt Cowboy. Mac! Mate! Where are you going?”

Macintosh stood. “I’m gonna talk to her.”

4. Cheerilee, Berry's Bar, Hotgust 16th 1054 GCE

Author's Note

No sex beyond slightly dirty jokes.

4. Cheerilee, Berry's Bar, Hotgust 16th 1054 GCE

Cheerilee knew well the perils of an empty barstool.

Getting a seat at the bar at Berry’s on a Freeday night was nothing short of a miracle, and she wasn’t giving this seat up for anything. But when the pony on her left paid her tab and headed home, Cheerilee understood the vulnerability this created. She was going to be offered free drinks. Accepting these drinks might or might not come with strings attached. Implied promises of favors later in the evening, which she might or might not follow through on.

She could move to a more secure position, but it had been a hard week in the one-room schoolhouse, climaxing this afternoon with an incident that left her supervising five foals—those five foals—scraping vinegar-soaked baking soda off the ceiling, delaying her overdue grading of the week’s quizzes until after dark.

She loved being a teacher. She really did. But oh, Harmony, some days were a death march.

She needed a cider. She needed several ciders, and maybe a bit of something harder. And if the pony who sat on that barstool and offered her drinks was a stallion, reasonably handsome, and didn’t seem to be a serial killer, she was going home with them.

She finished her cider and waved to Berry for another. Berry nodded back to her, and pulled down the tap for the Groundhog cider she knew was Cheerilee’s favorite. She bumped the bowl with her hoof and sent it scooting across the bartop without spilling a drop. Cheerliee caught it and bent down to take a lick. She closed her eyes and savored the sharp, crisp apple flavor with cinnamon and caramel notes.

The barstool next to her creaked. Her alert equine ears poked up. A different, muskier apple scent than the cider drifted into her nostrils. A delectable, crotch-moistening smell of physical near-perfection mixed with extreme emotional immaturity. The smell of a stallion who seemed placid and reliable on the outside, but whose mix of severe mommy and daddy issues made him almost intolerable once you got to know him. The smell of the stallion who was the unmentioned exception to her ‘screw anything male, handsome, and probably not going to murder her’ plan.

Her head snapped up. “You!”

“Eyup.”

Cheerilee narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

“Eyup.”

She curved a hoof protectively around her cider bowl. “Well, if you want to buy me a drink, you’re too late.”

He shrugged.

“So is there something I can help you with? Or did you just come by because you think you can convince me that we should get back together?”

“Eyup.”

Cheerilee narrowed her eyes and leaned toward him. She drew a hoof tip along the edge of her bowl, eliciting a soft musical tone. “I asked you two questions, honey. You need to specify which one you’re ‘eyup’ing.”

He leaned away from her. “The second one. I miss you.”

“Ah.” She straightened up. “Macintosh, do you know one of the hardest lessons I have to teach my students?”

“Nope.”

“Well,” she said. “Let me try to teach it to you. The lesson is that actions have consequences. Like if, for example, if you ignore the clear pedagogic intent of a science lesson on chemical reactions and weaponize it as part of a pissing contest with your best frenemies, you’re going to have to stay after school to clean up the disaster you created. And if you do it on a Freeday afternoon, your favorite teacher is going to be royally pissed at you.”

Macintosh nodded slowly, watching her with his particular look of intense concentration that she’d dated him long enough to know meant he was only pretending to listen.

“Are you picking up what I’m laying down?”

She could hear his brain rattling in his skull when he nodded. He shifted his facial features into the sad half-frown half-pout which meant he was doing his best to look repentant.

Cheerilee held his gaze. “My mom says I should take you back. ‘Cheery,’ she’ll say—she calls me Cheery for some reason, don’t ever do that—’ Cheery, he’s healthy, he’s good looking, he’s successful, he’s soft-spoken but strong. And he really loves you! Sure, he’s free spirited’—that’s what she calls what you do, being free spirited— ‘but a lot of stallions are like that. Everypony makes mistakes! And you’re not getting any younger. You need to be more forgiving or you’re going to wind up alone.”

Macintosh nodded again, a little faster. His slight smile showed he was only hearing the parts he wanted to hear.

“My mother is desperate for grandfoals. But you know what I’m desperate for?”

Macintosh nodded vigorously, and then, when she gave him a quelling look, changed that to a shake.

“I’m desperate to be happy. And it makes me very unhappy when my special somepony cheats on me.”

Macintosh cringed away from her like she’d popped him on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper. “I can change.”

“No. You can’t. And do you know how I know that?”

“Nope?”

“Because you’re coming up to me right now, acting repentant and wanting to rebuild burned bridges, but you smell like Caramel’s ass.”

His ears flattened against his head. “Oh.”

Cheerilee shrugged. “Some ponies can’t be monogamous. There’s no shame in that. But I want to be. And I’m not going to compromise on that. I’d rather be alone than unhappy.”

“Oh.”

“So I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

Macintosh didn’t budge from his barstool. “I love you.”

“I know, honey. I love you too. But love alone isn’t enough to build a relationship on. Go to your friends. Have fun.”

Macintosh’s face sagged like a kicked puppy’s.

Cheerilee flicked her hoof at him. “Go. Go on. Get.”

He melted off the stool and slunk away.

“Well. That was unpleasant,” she said to herself. She lowered her snout into her cider and took a nice long drink.

The barstool next to her creaked again. She sighed internally.

“Garçon!” said the stallion next to her. “I need baking soda and vinegar! Immediately!”

“You need what?” said Berry.

Cheerilee turned her eyes sideways. The stallion next to her was slim and brown, wearing a bow tie. His shaggy mane called out to be straightened with a gentle hoof. “Vinegar and baking soda.” He placed a papier-mâché model of a volcano on the bartop. “Allons-y! The fate of an entire city may depend on it!”

Berry squinted at him. “Allons what?”

“Quickly! Quickly!”

“Go ahead, Berry,” said Cheerilee. “Put it on my tab.”

Eyes intent with the passion of scientific inquiry, the bow-tie pony poured a bit of baking soda into the toy volcano, then tipped the shot glass of vinegar over the crater. White foam bubbled forth in the kind of volumes she would normally only have seen if she’d gone home with Macintosh.

Bow Tie’s eyes widened. “Fantastic! The rumors are true!”

“You’re cleaning that,” said Berry.

“I could have told you,” said Cheerilee, leaning her chin on her hoof and batting her eyelashes at him.

Bow Tie seemed to become aware of her for the first time since he’d taken the stool. “Really? And what is your scientific specialty?”

“I’m an elementary school teacher.”

Bow Tie tapped his hoof against his forehead. “Of course! Of course! I could have saved hours and an entire newspaper if I’d come to one of your sisterhood, to begin with!” He kicked the post of his bar stool and rotated to face her. “The critical question is: How well does the effect scale?”

Cheerilee batted her eyelashes at him. “You came to the right mare but it’s a long story. Can I buy you a drink?”

5. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres, Hotgust 17th 1054 GCE

Author's Note

This chapter has pee drinking, self-hoofing, autofellatio, and cum swapping. Enjoy!

5. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres, Hotgust 17th 1054 GCE

Macintosh was making a vanity for Apple Bloom. His jaws ached from clutching his new hammer in them for so long, but it was coming along nicely. It was level, the drawers fit, and it even looked nice. Hoof-crafted. In a little while, he’d have the rest for the mirror built, and then he’d sand and finish it and it would look wonderful.

He loved that kid so much.

Still, he could use a break. As he set the hammer down on his tool bench and craned his neck around to grab his bottle of cider, he felt a prickle on the back of his neck as if he were being watched. He glanced towards his workshop door and saw his older sister and one of her friends… what was her name, Flitterby? Yeah. Applejack and Flitterby stood watching him, back-lit by the mid-afternoon sun.

Applejack stepped up and rubbed her face against his shoulder. “I need your help, big brother. Fluttershy here’s gotta go have a talk with the vampire fruit bats,” she said. “And I need you to go with her, to keep her safe. You okay with that?”

Macintosh looked over Applejack’s back at Fluttershy. Now that his eyes were adjusting, he saw that Fluttershy—not Flitterby, gotta remember that—had her mane and tail up in saucy little buns, wore a scrap of flannel fabric around her shoulders, tied off in a knot just above the bottom of her rib cage. It looked like one of the sketchy outfits Applejack wore when she went out line dancing.

“I said, are you okay with that?” repeated Applejack.

“It's an orchard. It ain’t dangerous,” said Macintosh. “Except for the bats,” said Macintosh. Damn. He’d never looked at Fluttershy twice, before, but in this light, her butt looked really big.

Fluttershy’s eyebrows went up. “You… You’re afraid of bats?” She pressed her hooves together in front of her chest like she thought that was the cutest thing in the world.

Macintosh looked at her sidelong. “They’re creepy,” he said, feeling patronized.

Fluttershy giggled and ducked her head meekly. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe from the bats. Come on.” Her thick, soft buttocks rubbed against each other as she walked away, jiggling slightly. As she stepped into the sun, her fat ponut and puffy pussy lips gleamed beneath her tail. A tail that was, again, tied in a bun. As if to show off her nether bits.

“Macintosh,” warned Applejack, noticing where he was looking. “No funny business. I expect you to be a gentlepony.”

He rolled his eyes and clomped off after Fluttershy.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fluttershy. She seemed okay. She was just so prim, pure, and sweet. He didn’t think she'd be interested in what he’d like to do to that bubble butt of hers.

Those legs went on forever, too. Long and slim; such an enticing contrast to her enormous rear end. Her neck was long, too, just made for nibbling on. He imagined pushing aside her long, flowing pink mane and kissing up her neck to the cusp of her jaw. Imagined her back arching against his chest, sliding under him, offering him…

He felt tall grass tickling the shaft of his cock. Oh, fudge pies he was hard. What was he going to do? It was fine. It was fine. Everything would be okay if she didn’t look back.

“Are you, um, all right?” She glanced over her shoulder; her eyes flicked up and down his body. “Because you just started walking slower.”

Macintosh thrust out his chest and flexed his cock up against his belly. “Pretty day,” he said, trying to imply that he was merely enjoying the scenery. He liked to imply things; it saved on verbiage.

“It is,” she purred. “We could walk closer if you want. You don’t have to be a stranger.”

“Nope.”

“If you just want to enjoy the view, that’s okay, too.” And she trotted onward, steps high and light, ass bouncing.

Enjoy the view. Heh. She didn’t know what she was saying. Or did she? He couldn’t help noticing that her mare parts were glistening wet. It was probably just sweat, right? Because her ponut was wet, too. Every curve and pucker glistened with sweet moisture, almost as if it had been lubed up. Lubed up for what? For who? He was so absorbed in that question that he didn’t notice she had slowed down. His snout rammed right in between her cheeks.

His face bounced backwards like he’d done a nose dive into a trampoline. He fell on his ass and scrambled backward. “Horse apples! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“It's all right,” said Fluttershy. She blushed. “I know I must look like a horrible slut with my tail all done up like this. But it’s so hot out!” She fanned herself with a hoof.

She was still facing away from him. Just looking over her shoulder, like she didn’t know, or care what that ass was doing to him. He should be a gentlepony and look away, but he couldn’t! Her cheeks were still wobbling from their impact with his face, waves wobbling back and forth through them, forming interference patterns like one of Cheerliee’s science demonstrations.

“You’re staring at my ass, aren’t you?” she purred, her voice dripping with sweet, gentle evil.

Macintosh blushed and looked away.

“You don’t have to stop looking, you know. I’d… um… I’d like you to keep looking. If you want to?”

He nodded so hard his brain rattled.

“Can… um… will you tell me what you like about my ass? I don’t always like it. I think it’s too big.”

“It’s so… round… and firm… and smooth.”

“Do you want to smell it? Ponies tell me it smells amazing.”

“Eyup.”

“Okay. Take as long as you like. But don’t touch, okay? I don’t want Applejack catching us and getting mad at me for leading her sweet innocent brother astray.”

He slid forward on his ass, pressed his nose in just under her dock, and inhaled. Powerful aromas filled his snout. He curled his upper lip over his nostrils, holding the smell in there. Flowers and flower stems, earth and herbs, and the pungency of fertile soil. The smells exploded in his brain, so wonderful he lost awareness of the world around him.

“You’re not talking. Do you like it?” she craned her neck around, trying to get a look at his face. “Do I smell okay?”

“You smell like sex heaven. Are you in heat?”

Fluttershy blinked. “Oh, gosh, no! I get super stinky when I’m in heat!” she blushed. “It’s embarrassing.”

Macintosh’s heart stopped. It was summer. Mares were going into heat all around him. Fluttershy’s season would be soon. If she smelled that strong, he’d bankrupt himself for just a noseful! His heart rate quickened.

“Can I smell you?” said Fluttershy, voice hopeful.

“Eyup!” He leaned back, presenting himself to her. His stiff cock leaned against his cider belly, straight up in the air, pulsing with his heartbeat.

Fluttershy sniffed his flare and pulled her lip up in the most adorable little flehmen. She giggled. “Oh, tasty! You smell like apples!” She sniffed slowly down his cock, and then his balls. Her wings spread slowly until they were stretched out to their full with’ almost longer than his body. “I wish you would…” She bit her lower lip. “I want to smell something else, but it’s naughty. Super-naughty. I’m afraid to even ask.”

Macintosh’s heart went pitter-pat, pitter-pat. “Anything. Anything you want.”

Fluttershy’s eyes glanced furtively from side to side. “Applejack told me we could do whatever we wanted to, as long as we didn’t touch.”

“She told you what?”

“So… um… oh, there’s something… but it’s so bad.”

He leaned forward until his nose was almost touching hers. “Please tell me.”

She looked down at the ground. “Will you pee on me?”

The world tilted around Macintosh. Everything went black for a moment, and when he came to he was on his side and Fluttershy was leaning over him, a look of horror on her face, her hooves held close to her mouth. “Oh no. I killed you. I’m so sorry!”

“Eyup.”

“Eyup I killed you?”

“Eyup I’ll pee on you.”

Fluttershy squealed and clapped. “Oh, nopony will ever do that for me!” She rolled onto her back, four legs curled in the air. “Do it right in my face. Is it okay if I drink some?”

Macintosh stood. He glanced around frantically, ears rotating, trying to make sure that nocreature was watching. The tiny Applejack in his head reminded him “No funny business. I expect you to be a gentlepony.” A flicker of guilt passed through his gut. The thought about Caramel (who would tell him to go for it, if he asked), about Cheerilee (who was so right about him), about that new waitress at the bar with the milk bottle cutie mark (who he still intended to go after when he hit the bar tonight, and who he definitely would not tell about.his activities this morning). Shame knotted his gut, blocking off his bladder.

“Is… um… everything okay? Do you not have to go? I’m sorry.”

“It’s coming. Hold on.” He took a deep breath, let it out, and looked down at the round tummy, big teats, and long legs sticking out past his forelegs. That made it easier. He felt hot urine rushing through his cock. Heard a soft thump and a feminine gasp as his flow hit her face.

“Mgh! Oh! Mngl!” His stream made a softer sound as it moved from her face into her open mouth. She made quiet, rapid, gulping noises. Pickles! Was she drinking it? He lowered his head and looked back. There she was. Delicate yellow face soaked. Mouth open and pee—his pee—going right in her mouth!’ He gasped and shuddered. His cock bobbed, spraying piss across her belly then drooping down to splatter her between the eyes. She moved her head so her open mouth was under the flow again.

“Is that it?” she said when his stream trickled to a sprinkling of drops.

“Eyup. How’d you like it?”

She arched her back against the soil, rubbing at her pussy. “I wish there was more!”

“You put enough ciders in me, and I can pee for ten minutes straight.”

She sat up. He looked into her eyes, which sparkled with joy. Her mane was plastered to her forehead. Bits of leaves and grass and apple windfalls clung to her wet round cheeks. “You... you want to…” She ran her hooves in a circle around each other.

“I wanna drink yours, yeah.”

She squeaked and clapped. He lay on his back and she wiggled back over his face and squatted. Grinning like a fool, he watched a golden arc tumble out of her soft, rounded pussy lips and splatter his chest ruff. He stuck out his tongue to catch it. The acrid golden nectar rolled into his mouth, carrying a load of pheromones close to his Jacobsen’s organ. His lust for the mare squatting over him rose from the level it had been at—comparable, perhaps, to a cozy fire—to an intensity comparable to the surface of the sun.

“Do you like how that tastes, you filthy boy?” she purred.

He gurgled a muffled ‘eyup’ around her continuing stream of piss.

She stamped from hoof to hoof above him, splattering his cheeks with the last droplets of her stream. “Oh, I wish I could fuck you! But Applejack specifically told me no touching!”

“What in tarnation are you talking about?”

“Oh, I know! Let’s watch each other masturbate. Look what I can do!”

She lay on one side and lifted one hind leg. She reached around with both forelegs, one in front, one behind. One foreleg rubbed at that wonderful little pussy, the other at her tiny ponut. They squelched against her flesh, massaging and pushing. Gradually, like the dawning of spring, her sex and her anus opened, welcoming her hooves into her body’s warm embrace. In all his years, his naughtiest thoughts, his extensive porn collection, and his not inconsiderable experience, he’d never seen anything like it. Hoof, pastern, and fetlock vanished into her body until she was sweating and moaning, twisted up like a pony sex pretzel.

“Holy mother of Harmony,” said Macintosh.

“You… you play with yourself too,” gasped Fluttershy. “Your dick is huge. Is it long enough that you can suck yourself off?”

He sure could. Macintosh blamed some of his cursed beer gut on the number of his own loads he’d swallowed. He sat on his haunches. His flare, fully spread, trickling pre from the head, bobbed at about chest height. Eyes locked on Flutterpretzel nethers, he leaned down and wrapped his lips around it. It filled his mouth, hot, nubbly-textured, tasting of his pre and his piss.

Fluttershy spoke breathlessly. “You look so… so pretty like that! Show me how deep you can go! Show me!” she gasped, eyes wide. Her lanky yet curvy little body was twisting and writhing, hooves filling her sweet round backside. Dirt, leaves and windfall apple mush were building up on her body, but she was so wrapped up in sexual delight that she didn’t care.

Macintosh couldn’t help but do what she wanted. He pushed his mouth down his shaft; his dick quickly filled his snout and pressed against the back of his throat. Wanting to impress Fluttershy, he pushed further. But the angle was bad and he gagged.

Hhurk! He pulled back, spraying spit and coughing.

“Oh my gosh are you all right?” said Fluttershy.

“Eyup.” He wiped his mouth on his pastern and dove right back down. He was more careful this time, moving slowly. The angle was really bad for deep throating, so he worked his shaft slowly, pushing it with little bobs of his head. Gradually his cock pushed into the back of his mouth and beyond, lubricated by his own slimy, salty-apple pre.

“Do it. Do it, sweetie, do it!” whimpered Fluttershy, her body shaking with passion. Whatever her hooves were doing inside her body, they were doing it well. Her cheeks were red, her forehead sweaty. Her pussy lips and ponut stretched and squashed around her dripping fetlocks. “Oh, Harmony, I believe in you.”

Macintosh rumbled around his shaft. He wrapped his forehooves around it, stroking the spit that dripped down the shaft into his skin. He slid the frogs down to his balls, carefully rubbing them in slow circles. The pleasure made him hump harder, made his hind legs kick against the soft ground.

“You like that… you like that ball action… oh… don’t you big boy?” purred Fluttershy.

Macintosh moaned. He could feel cum roiling in his balls. It was a faint flicker, but it was growing with a freight-train-like inevitability. Watching Fluttershy fist herself was astonishing — a lot of his lovers had struggled with the size of his cock, but she could hoof herself like that, she wouldn’t have any trouble taking him in. That thought made a big gob of pre shoot down his throat.

Fluttershy was shaking. Whatever her hooves were doing inside her body, it was working. She bit her lower lip, thrashing in the dirt and grass. A jerk, a spasm, and mare goo started pulsing out around the hoof stuffed up her pussy.

“Yay,” she whispered.

That was too much. The freight train hit Macintosh. His hips bucked of their own accord, jamming his cock down his throat. Pleasure blasted through his body like a bomb had gone off in his balls. He started squirting, blast after blast straight into his own tummy.

He groaned, and slid his cock gingerly out of his mouth, dripping apple-scented spunk. Most of the load was warm and heavy in his belly, but a lot of it was still in his mouth.

“Don’t swallow! Don’t swallow!” begged Fluttershy.

“Mpgh?” said Mac, his cheeks puffed out and his lips dripping cum.

She popped her hoof out of her pussy, and pulled her other hoof more slowly out of her ass, leaving both gaping. She got to all fours and wobbled over, clearly woozy from orgasm, eyes glassy, unsteady on her feet like a newborn foal. She reared up, flopped across his barrel in flagrant breach of Applejack’s alleged ‘no touching’ rule, and opened her mouth.

Macintosh had been to a naughty stage show or two. He knew what to do. He’d never met a pony who was willing to do it before, but he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He was going to do something else with her mouth.

Opening his lips a hair, he let a long, thin stream of cum and spit drizzle into Fluttershy’s mouth. He half expected she’d recoil. But she just moaned a quiet little moan, and curled her tongue around, playing in the load. He let her have the whole thing in one long trickle—it overflowed her mouth, but he didn’t stop, letting it roll over her lips and down her cheeks and chin, dripping off her jaw. She swallowed his load and didn’t stop him when he went to clean up the drips on her face. He let the goo slide off his tongue and into her mouth, and she kissed him, both of them playing in the sticky, apple-salty cum.

“Yum,” said Fluttershy, after she swallowed.

Macintosh’s mouth worked soundlessly. He could not think of anything to say. Not that that was unusual. Just. Especially in this case. No words sufficed.

“We were naughty,” said Fluttershy. “This isn’t what your sister meant by ‘no touching. Did you have fun?”

Macintosh nodded violently.

“Oh good!” she hopped to her hooves. “But I actually do need to check in on the fruit bats. And… um.. we should probably stop at the pond to wash up so applejack doesn't smell us on each other."

He had so many questions. Like why? Had she always been like this? He thought he knew all the easy mares in town. How had he not heard of her? And what was this fudged-up nonsense about his sister giving Fluttershy rules for being around him?

But he didn’t have any idea how to start asking those questions, and her wasn’t sure she’d give him a clear answer if she asked. Dumbstruck by the incredible and unexpected encounter he’d just had, he followed her bouncing buttocks deeper into the orchard.

7. Macintosh, Berry's Bar and Surrounds, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE

Author's Note

Fairly vanilla casual sex with some watersports at the end. Implied horniness for Elton John. I apologize for continuing Macintosh's lack of musical ability flagrantly against canon, but I do not recant.

7. Macintosh, Berry's Bar and Surrounds, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE

Macintosh's eyes scanned Berry’s Bar. He didn’t see any of his friends except for Fantastic, who was up on stage at the piano, lost in his own world. Macintosh didn’t mind. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize. His… adventure with Fluttershy this earlier. What had that been? A date? A one-morning stand? They’d have sex, sort of, but rather than satisfying him it had left him starving for more flesh.

He needed to think this through.

The things they’d done together kept floating into his mind, bringing with them an aching-hard erection. Scent memories of cum and urine drifted through his nose like hungry ghosts. He found a table in the back. Some alcohol would clear his mind. That was what it did, right?

“Anything I can get you, stranger?” His ear rotated towards the sweet, husky older mare’s voice. His nostrils flared at a smell of mare in heat that wasn't a sense memory. It was her again, that sweet-natured, deep-cheeked waitress from the night before.

“What’s good?” he said. His eyes ran across her body, from her tiny snout to her sleepy blue eyes to the braid that fell carelessly across her shoulder, to the wide, gentle slope of her flank. Her mane and tail were golden brown like a perfectly baked apple pie. Her black apron, tied under her belly, barely hid her swollen, heavy teats.

The mare smirked. “We’ve got a new cider on tap. Really dry. A lot of ponies don’t like it, but it really appeals to a more mature palate.”

He nodded. “Sounds alright to me. And an apple whiskey.”

“You got it, big guy.”

She bopped his shoulder with her hip on the way by. Her soft flesh squished out against his hard muscle like a pillow whacking an apple tryy. An accident? He felt her leaning into it. Probably not.

He watched her backside jiggle away with great enjoyment. He’d been planning to think about something. What was it?

Maybe it was the things he’d love to do to her. Conventional and kinky. Gentle and rough. He kept his hard-on hidden under his belly, shifting it slightly between his thighs from time. Could he have her? He didn’t know. It seemed like it. No reason to hurry.

Except when he came back with his drinks, a little burst of pre shot out the end of his dick. She noticed, too, ears rotating towards the sound of fluid thumping on the floorboards, pretty little nostrils flaring. He pinned his ears. With a growing sense of mortification, he realized he’s basically been masturbating in public. The line between ‘randy young stud’ and ‘embarrassing pervert’ was a fine one, and he might’ve just crossed it.
Big blue eyes met his. She didn’t seem bothered. If anything, her expression was smug. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Eyup.”

“Maybe something off the secret menu?”

His cock throbbed. It was happening. It was really happening. Harmony with a strap-on, he was one lucky stallion. “Eyup.”

“Meet me in the storage room at the end of the hall in five minutes.” She hesitated. “Actually, could you roll over a hair?”

He shifted to one side and lifted his thigh.

“Better make it ten. I need to prepare.”

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

He pushed on the ‘employees only’ door with his head, and found it unlocked. A dim, flickering bulb illuminated the waitress sprawled over a cider keg, looking over his shoulder at him. The upper curves of her buttocks rose live the curve of two moonlit mountains overlooking a deep, mysterious valley.

“It’s been twelve minutes. You’re late.”

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even get his mouth closed. In fact he might’ve been drooling. Drooling from more than one place. He kicked the door closed behind him. The room was small enough that there was barely room for them to stand tail-to-nose across it. This was not a problem. He wiggled his nose in between her cheeks, up to his eyes in ass before he hit ponut.

“Nasty boy,” she purred.

He grunted, and pushed his tongue inside her. He cupped her pussy with a forehoof; the soft, plump, fluffy mound with its rim of prickly fur dripped lube onto his frog.

“Fuck, fuck…” She moaned. Wide hips churned. Ass muscles clamped the side of his head with a grip that could crack a coconut.

He twisted his hoof to get the leathery edge of the frog against her clit, which was helpfully large and hot and swollen. Her hind leg kicked. He grinned. He might be an embarrassing pervert, but he knew how to please a mare.

“Tongue… she moaned. “Tongue deeper.” He complied. He had a lot of tongue, and he knew all the good spots. “Hoof. Up. Left. Oh Harmony! That’s right!”

A few seconds later, her ass clamped down on his tongue. He kept flicking her spot and pushed on her clit. Thighs spasmed. Her hooves clicked on the stone basement floor, flailing frantically.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. “Fuck me!”

He drew his tongue out of her ass slowly, feeling the muscle slide closed as he withdrew. He raised his hoof to her pussy opening. It felt well-used, stretchy and open, like a lot of things had gone in and out of there. It was still going to be a tight fit. “You sure?”

“I need it,” she moaned.

“You’re probably gonna want to find something to bite down on.” He climbed on top of her. He only had to rear up a little for his belly to clear her ass. His flare nudged her pussy; the opening with all its lube and natural goo barely wet the tip. “I’m serious. Use this broom handle.”

She twisted under him. He bucked. One, two, three times, his thighs slammed forward until her pussy lips finally let him in.

Her back teeth crunched down on the wood of the broom handle.

Sweet Celestia at a bukakke festival, there was almost room for him inside her!

Her walls clung to him, silky, hot. His hips jerked forward. He couldn’t help himself. He tried to be gentle—as big as he was, he needed to be. But her pussy just felt too good! It sucked on him when he pulled back, loose walls clinging to him like they didn’t want him to leave. He jammed himself in again; a thrust like that must’ve rammed her womb up under her rib cage.

The brook handle cracked. He started to worry. “Am I hurting you?”

Her hind legs hopped up off the floor and hooked behind his. The halves of the broom handle thumped on the floor. “Fuck you don’t stop! Fuck me hard! Call me mommy!”

Something in the back of his brain snapped. “Mommy,” he growled. He wrapped his forelegs around her waist and laid into her like she was Caramel and could take a freight train. She stuffed both hooves in her mouth to keep from screaming. Mascara trickled in dark lines down her cheeks.

His balls burned. He clamped down inside, straining to keep from coming, to keep this going a little longer. But she felt too good around him. His flare spread inside of her, his balls clenched, and the flood rushed out of him. He filled her until the load started forcing him out of her body.
When he came to himself again, he craned his neck to get a look at her face. “You okay?”
“I came five times with you inside me,” she groaned. “Three more from your hoof.”

He pursed his lips. That seemed like a lot, but who was he to contradict a lady?

She wiggled and twisted underneath him. “Oh my Luna, what time is it? My break must be over. Fuck, I can’t afford to lose another job for having sex at work. Pull out!”

His flare was still up. He had to yank himself out. He came free with a pop and cum poured out of her pussy after him. He looked at the floor and cringed. He’d cum in a mare in heat. Oh no. Not that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, but Applejack would be livid.

“Don’t worry,” the waitress said. “I’m on birth control spells.”

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

The evening only got better. Fantastic must’ve slipped off to do a couple of lines of frosting while he’d been out back with the waitress, because when Macintosh got back from mopping the storage room so the waitress could get back to her shift he was hammering on the keyboard and kicking his whole body up into the air over and over with the energy of a hyperactive pukwudgie. Ponies started dancing. Macintosh had a few more ciders and a few more shots and eventually he, toostarted dancing.

The waitress laughed at him, because he was nowhere near any sort of beat, and then she started dancing with him even though she was probably supposed to be working. Later, they slipped off to the mare’s room where she attempted to give him a blowjob. There was no way she was fitting that in her mouth, but watching her try was exciting enough that he jerked off in her face.

“You’re a beast,” she moaned, cum dripping from her snout and her pony tail, spotting the black of her apron.

He shrugged, grinned, and picked her up in his forelegs to help her lick his load off her face. They did not get it all, and Berry shot him both a dirty look from behind the bar.

Before she went back to work (for real this time) the waitress invited him to meet him when she got off from her other job at Quills and Sofas tomorrow at six.

Staggering out into the night at close, humming ‘Griffonstone Rock’ off key, he almost tripped over the sex box. The edge rammed into his back knee like it was made of marble.

Inside, a soft, androgynous voice yelped like he’d woken the occupant up.

He sat down and rubbed his knee. That box. He’d seen it often enough, with its line of desperate creatures waiting for it coming out the alley and around the corner. He’d always found the idea of using it beneath him. Even when he was having a dry spell. He didn’t mean to judge, but… honestly how did you even got hard for a cardboard box? He had standards. They were low, and idiosyncratic, but they were still standards.

And yet. Right now. He was hard. From thinking about the waitress. Or Fantastic. Or general high spirits.

His eyes narrowed. Three times with two mares was a pretty good day. Why not make it a fourth? With whatever or whoever was in there. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he straddled the box and poked the ‘ass’ hole experimentally.

“Oh gosh,” said the Box. “You’re too big for the hole!”

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“I’ve never met a creature who didn’t fit before! This is… it’s really exciting. But also disappointing. I’d… um… I’d offer to get out, but it’d ruin the whole anonymity thing.”

“Eyup,” he agreed.

The box fell silent. He stepped back.

“Wait!” said the box. “Do you like… um… pee stuff?”

By way of an answer, he jammed the tip of his flare against the opening. He had a lot of ciders to get rid of. Silky soft lips cradled his tip. A small tongue flitted lightly across his opening.

He grinned. This had been a good day.

8. Twilight Sparkle, Golden Oak Library, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE

Author's Note

No sex. Talking about sex! But no sex.

8. Twilight Sparkle, Golden Oak Library, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE

“Spike. Coffee.”

“Already ready!” The little purple dragon bounced by and pressed a warm mug into her hoof.

Her first sip of the morning filled her with an almost indescribable level of comfort and wellbing. Twilight had become completely addicted to Quequeg’s coffee in her undergrad years, and Spike had labored long to get his home brewed stuff to match it; finally getting it exactly the right level of burnt-tasting, saving her hundreds of bits and hours in line every year. He also knew the correct coffee-to-cream ratio (about one to eight) and how to get exactly the right amount of precipitate sugar in the bottom of the cup.

She took another, longer sip.

Spike was a very good dragon. He deserved to be told so. “Spike, you’re a very good dragon.”

“Shucks, ma’am, only doing my job,” he said as he waddled off to finish breakfast.

Twilight, caffeinating happily, levitated her to-do list for today out from behind the library front desk. Top-level items included, but weren’t limited to: processing library returns, a meeting with the mayor about an overdue book amnesty program, lunch with Pinkie and Dash, and working on her mistress’s thesis

Which last she was a bit stuck on. Another friendship problem or two would be really helpful around now. Her friends had been awfully calm and stable lately. What was up with that? How was she supposed to study friendship if it was actually working properly?

As she reflected on this, the tiny furs on the back of her neck stirred. A response that she’d learned to associate with a pony’s innate danger sense. Most certainly not a manifestation of anything like a ‘Pinkie sense’ Just a response to sensory input so minor that it would not normally trigger the conscious mind.

She perked her ears and rotated them. Ah. Yes. There was that sensory input: a gentle tap-tap-tap from the library door. “Coming Fluttershy!”

“I’m sorry,” said Fluttershy, hunched over at the front door, a hooded sweatshirt covering her from the substantial flare of her hips to the tip of her tiny snout, wings mantled defensively. “I know you’re not open yet. I just… I mean, I just don’t feel very good.”

“My door is always open to you! However, I must also again remind you that I am not a doctor.”

Fluttershy glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then darted inside. “But, you’re really smart.”

“Thank you, but still not a doctor. Can I offer you some coffee?”

Fluttershy pulled back her hood. “So… I’m dizzy, and my throat is dry, and my heart is pounding, and I have a headache. Is it cancer?”

“Once again reminding you that I am completely unequipped to give either a positive or negative diagnosis of cancer. Those do, however, sound like the classic symptoms of dehydration. Offer of coffee rescinded. Would you care for a tall frosty glass of ice water?”

“I have a sore throat, too. Can you look inside? How does it look? Ahhhhhh?”

“It looks bruised. Also, it looks like Spike is done with breakfast. Would you care to join me?”

“Oh, this smells so good,” said Fluttershy, hopping onto a stool at the kitchen table. “Are you sure it’s alright if I have some?”

“I always make way too much,” said Spike, flapping his little wings to place a bowl of scrambled eggs on the table. “Do you want butter and syrup with your oatmeal?”

“Yes, please. If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Coffee?”

“Water for Fluttershy,” said Twilight, climbing onto a stool and scooping some eggs onto her plate with her magic. “So how many glasses are you drinking? On an average day.”

“Oh, I’m getting plenty of fluids. Yum yum, I just love those fluids.”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. “What kind of fluids? Many drinks can make you more dehydrated than when you started. Speaking of which, more coffee, please.”

“Coming right up!”

Fluttershy munched a tiny spoonful of oatmeal, and swallowed gingerly. “Mmmm, this oatmeal is really good. I don’t get to eat a big breakfast often, since I’m so busy with my animals.”

“The fluids thing, though,” said Twilight, undeterred by Shy’s attempt at conversational deflection.

“I would love another glass of water, please. Mmmmm, water. Can’t get enough of it.”

“Fluttershy, how much pee have you been drinking?”

Shy’s glass fell out of her hoof and rolled off the table, ice cubes scattering. “Um, some?”

“I’ll get that!” said Spike.

“Like, an estimate. How many ounces?”

Fluttershy hunched so that her mane fell over her eyes, trying to sink into her hoodie. She mumbled something incomprehensible. Then, a little more clearly: “I thought you said it was okay.”

Twilight tapped her hooves together. “Well, I was thinking occasionally. As a fetish though, you know? I didn’t think you’d be willing to… Guzzle it? Constantly? Like I drink coffee? Is that rude to say? I also didn’t calculate how popular the sex box would be. If you’re drinking enough to cause you these symptoms, then I worry what it’s doing to your poor kidneys. Your body wants to eliminate that stuff for a reason, you know.”

“You’re not a doctor,” muttered Fluttershy.

Spike placed a fresh glass of water beside Fluttershy’s plate.

Twilight sipped her coffee. An idea was starting to form in her head. A little egg, the child of her mind. And like any good idea-mother, she immediately put it to the test, rolling it around and poking it for cracks. Fluttershy depended on that box, but it wasn’t exactly making her any friends, was it? If anything, it was keeping her from making friends! And making friends was the most important thing in life, right? So. She ought to steer Shy away from using the sex box so much. But she needed to do it gently. “I think maybe you need to take a break.”

Fluttershy reared up and slammed her hooves down on the table so that everything on it bounced three inches and came down with a rattle and crash. Splodges of oatmeal and egg plopped onto the table for half a second after, like the first drops of a gentle rain. Fluttershy’s new glass of water wobbled and fell over. “You will not take the sex box away from me!”

“Gosh darn it!” said Spike.

“Spike, language.” She levitated a napkin to mop up around her mug. “Also, more coffee please.” She tapped her hooves together in front of her snout. “So. Fluttershy. I want to be clear here. I had predicted several ways our conversation about the sex box could go, based primarily on how you responded when I suggested you take a break. If you’re interested: the way you reacted? That was about the worst way you could possibly have responded. If you’d been calm, or even hesitant, I might’ve allowed myself to be steered away from the topic. But this? Right here? This tantrum? This is shifting my opinion from ‘suggested break’ to ‘mandatory ban’.”

Fluttershy loomed over Twilight, chest heaving, eyes glowing pink with rage. Loomed not just because she was standing half-on the table, but because she seemed to have grown by at least fifty percent. Her slim, hummingbird-like wings spread out to either side, their graceful silhouette somehow managing to cast a menacing shadow. Light from the window refracted off the trailing edges in a prismatic gleam that evoked a cartoon drawing of a very sharp knife. Twilight reflected that pegasus magic was very real, if poorly understood.4 And that it could be quite impressive, at times.

Impressive, yet Twilight was not intimidated. “Do you have any lovers? Playmates? Friends with magical benefits? Anything?”

Shy’s wings trembled. Their shadow reduced to its regular size. “Uh… lots. When I’m in the sex box.”

“No, I mean real ones. Ones whose names you know. Ones who can actually provide you with intimacy and emotional support and not just physical pleasure.”

Shy’s wings wilted into a half-hearted mantle. She shrank to her normal—still very tall—height. “There’s… um, there’s you guys.”

Twilight shook her head. “Flattered, but I don’t think that’s enough for you. I’m borderline asexual. Applejack is straight—allegedly; I’m not sure I buy it. Rarity is obsessed with her career. Dash is your ex. And Pinkie is… Pinkie. None of us can give you the kind of support you need. Or fulfill your appetites, honestly. A few hours in that sex box would break most ponies, and you’re in there almost every night!”

Fluttershy folded in on herself. “I’m sorry.”

“No! It’s amazing! You’re amazing! I’m curious to research it, honestly, but I’m just not horny enough to put in the hours.”

A flash of the glowing pink flickered around the edge of her blue-green eyes. What did the Ponyville natives call it when she did this? The Stare? Twilight had never been on the receiving end before. She could see why it got results. “So,” said Fluttershy, her tone betraying an aggression less passive than she usually employed, “what, exactly, is your point? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Have you considered dating? I’m told dating is how ponies evaluate potential mates. I never really did it myself, but most ponies swear by it.”

Fluttershy pinned her ears. “Dating? Like going out in public with a stranger and doing fun things in front… in front of everybody?”

“Yes. Like going to dinner, maybe? Dinner and a show is a very popular itinerary.”

“Eating? In… public? Where people can see you eat? And judge how you chew?” Fluttershy sunk downward, stroking her mane. “I have… um… I need… I can’t do that. I don’t understand ponies. I can’t live without the sex box. Please.”

Twilight felt the stirrings of pity in her heart. Perhaps she should encourage Shy to go easy on the pee and just let this one drop. But what would a good friend do? That was the question. Would a good friend let her settle for who she was, or would she instead help her friend to become the best pony she could be, whether that friend wanted it or not?

She wasn’t sure, but she knew which would look better as a case study for her mistress’s thesis. She clapped her forehooves. “Spike. This is a friendship problem! Get me my writing things! You’re going to be sending some letters.”

Fluttershy pulled her hood back over her head and sank beneath the table until only her eyes peeked over the edge. “Oh no.”

9. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres North Fields, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE

Author's Note

No sex again this time aside from some light fantasies. Talk about sex; jokes about Macintosh's dick.

9. Macintosh, Sweet Apple Acres North Fields, Hotgust 18th, 1054 GCE

As the first rays of dawn trickled through his bedroom window, an itching along Macintosh’s withers told him that it might be a good day to head out before Applejack woke up.5 (This one is definitely earth pony magic.) He decided he could find plenty of things to do out in the orchard until it was time to go meet the waitress.

There were a lot of early varieties of apple in the North Field and they needed bucking—Ginger Golds, Paula Reds, Sansas, for example. So he fed Winona, packed a lunch, left a note on the fridge that he was ‘out bucking’, and hitched himself to the wagon. Winona trotted along behind him, head high and tail wagging.

He got a good look at the orchard on a hilltop on the way over. He ran some fancy mathematics in his head, which told him that if he allowed about ten minutes a tree, with an hour for a leisurely lunch, he could get through about half the field by mid-afternoon. This would leave him plenty of time to get cleaned up for his date. He would run out of bushels several times during all that but the family had a shed half a mile to the west where he could swap full loads for empties. Trips there would make him harder to find if Applejack came looking.

Not that he knew exactly what Applejack would be after him about, but she had some choices.

In any event, it turned out his original time estimate had been excessively pessimistic, and so he was able to start lunch early. Eating didn’t take long. Afterward he stretched out on his back under an apple tree and closed his eyes. Winona, worn out from her job of terrifying potential pests and warning them away with scent markers (or chasing rodents and peeing on things, if you wanted to be more simplistic about it) curled up by his side and began to snore.

He let his thoughts wander.

They went horny places.

For a while they lingered on all the things the waitress might let him do to her, which was pretty satisfying. Then they wandered along to his final encounter of last night. Those soft lips pressed against his flare, open, the tongue pushed right up against his flare, so gentle yet so eager to taste him. They reminded him of a certain mare’s brief, cum-soaked kiss.

It couldn’t be, could it? Was it her in the box?

“Well damn,” said a raspy female voice from the branches over head. “The legends are true! I thought ponies were exaggerating, but you’re even bigger than they say!”

“Go away, Rainbow Dash,” said Macintosh, not opening his eyes. He felt groggy and disoriented, and the leaf-mottled sunlight shining through his eyelids was coming from a different angle, telling him it was early afternoon already. He’d fallen asleep mid-fantasy.

“I just got out of a friendship meeting,” said Dash. “Really interesting conversation. Do you know what we talked about?”

“Nope.” Nor did he care.

“We talked about you.”

“Did you.” He opened his eyes a hair. Rainbow squatted on her branch with the probably deliberate intent of giving him a look at the goods. What she didn’t know was that she was backlit, so he couldn’t see a thing. Didn’t matter to him either way. She was quite a bit slimmer than he usually liked his mares. And not worth the trouble anyway. He closed his eyes.

“Yeah. Heard you had some fun the other day,” she said.

“None of your damn business.”

“I’m afraid Shy is my business, kind sir. And if you do anything to hurt her, I’ll tear off your neck and poop in the hole.”

He scowled, and decided not to ask her about the squad of royal guards she’d need to help her accomplish that task. “That so.”

“Yep,” said Applejack’s approaching voice. “And I’ll help her.”

That, he had to admit, would probably be sufficient force. “I’d never,” he said. Figure when it comes to breaking Fluttershy’s heart, Rainbow’s got that all tied up.” That had been a guess based on small town scuttlebutt, but the branches overhead rustled as if bestirred by the body of a tiny pegasus vibrating with rage, so he figured it’d hit home.

“Why you little…” said Rainbow.

“Who you callin’ little?” he said, grinning.

There was a snapping noise, as of wings unfurling in an attempt to be threatening. His smile grew until it showed teeth. A horse of few words, Macintosh knew how to speak with his actions. Actions that in this case were saying ‘why don’t you go ahead and come at me?’

Branches cracked, and wings wooshed upwards, quickly gaining altitude. Winona began to growl.

“Dash!” said Applejack. “You will not dive bomb my brother!”

“Why not?” she said from high above. “He’s begging for it!”

“He’s trying to get under your skin. Go do some laps until you calm down.”

“Ugh, fine!” Apple tree branches rustled and groaned in the wake of her passage.

Applejack’s hoofsteps approached. “So. You gonna put that thing away?”

“It’ll go down on its own. If you want it to go down faster, just keep talking.”

“I don’t believe you. You molest Fluttershy in the morning, and in the night, you’re all over the new waitress at Berry’s!”

“I didn’t molest her. She knows what she wants. And we didn’t touch. Just like you told me.”

“Peeing on each other counts as touching!”

“Does not.”

“Does too!”

“Does not.”

“Aw, for crispy’s sake!” said Applejack. “You can’t argue with me like that! We’re not foals any more!”

“You sure ain’t. You were a lot more fun when we were foals.”

“You know the difference between the letter and the spirit of the law. Shy’s an innocent. An innocent with a problem. And you took advantage of her!”

“An innocent, huh?” He slipped one eye open enough to get a read on his sister’s facial expression. Was she actually serious?

“Pure as the driven snow,” said Applejack, struggling to keep a straight face.

He closed his eye again. “Hey, you know the sex box in the alley behind Berry’s?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but I bet I don’t know it anywhere near as well as you do.”

He chuckled. “I don’t typically need it. Still. You ever wonder who’s in that?”

He heard the sound of her hoof scraping at the orchard earth with restrained fury. “Don’t try to change the topic!” she said.

“I ain’t.”

Applejack’s hooves danced with frustration. “You… you… You know what? I’m not here for this. I’m here to tell you that you have a date tonight.”

“Sure do.”

“Not with the slut from the bar. With Shy. At the Café Fancy at nine o’clock.”

He chuckled. “The Café Fancy, huh? I’m sure that was Fluttershy’s idea.”

“You don’t argue. Be there, or there’ll be heck to pay. Wear something nice.”

He shrugged, rolled to his hooves, and shook himself to get dry grass and twigs out of his coat. “Eyup. C’mon, Winnona. Those apples ain’t gonna buck themselves.”

6. Fluttershy, The Alley Behind Berry's Bar, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE

Author's Note

I bet you thought I forgot about this. Features: Glory holes (sort of), anonymous intercourse in all openings, water sports. Scene continues in the next chapter: I could write a whole novel about shy in the box, but I need to move the plot along.

6. Fluttershy, The Alley Behind Berry's Bar, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE

They’d both come out of the forest stepping on the tips of their hooves and grinning big goofy grins. Stains and smells would wash away, but joy could not be hidden. Applejack noticed the second she saw them, and glared daggers at Fluttershy. Shy had blushed and ducked her head in response, which didn’t help matters.

“Okay, we did kiss,” Fluttershy had insisted when she pressed the matter, “but otherwise we didn’t touch.” She could hardly say it with a straight face. His cum and piss were warm in her belly, and she felt like she was walking on clouds. Except that she hated actually walking on clouds. So wet. So fuzzy. So dangerously high up. So metaphoric clouds.

“You and I are gonna have words, later,” Applejack had whispered, voice simmering with sororal wrath, glancing meaningfully at her big brother as he trotted back to his workshop with a skip in his step. “In private.”

Fluttershy, intimidated, had made an excuse about her animals and fled.

But now it was nightfall, and the euphoria of this morning’s sex had worn off. She was starting to have feelings, again. Nasty, horrible feelings like anxiety, depression, and boredom. Loneliness, because as much as she hated being around other ponies she still sometimes felt isolated in her cabin. Resentment towards bossy busybody Applejack. Missing Rainbow Dash. Confused about her feelings towards Mac. A bottomless of negative emotions that she needed to fill in with a fresh load of anonymous, no-strings-attached cum and pee and pussy juice as soon as possible.

Some mean, cold-hearted ponies called this way of looking at things ‘sex addiction.

They didn’t understand.

Luckily, Twilight understood. At least, she understood it from the angle of needing to get physical needs out of the way in the most efficient way possible so that she could return her mind to her studies. They had spent many a night discussing it in between rounds of licking each others’ pussies raw and finally settled on the Sex Box Mk. I as the best solution for Fluttershy’s needs. A large cardboard box, big enough to cover Fluttershy end to end but not big enough to turn around in, with round openings at each end. One in the front, two in the back. The box was labeled ‘FREE SEX’ and the holes labeled ‘PONUT’, ‘PUSSY’, and ‘SNOOT’ in large black magic marker block letters near the respective openings. Other block letters informed the prospective patron that ‘PEE IS OKAY’ and that ‘NO FUNNY BUSINESS’ would be tolerated, though what exactly constituted ‘funny business’ was left at the occupant’s discretion. Once Fluttershy placed the box over her body, it could not be removed until she willed it to be removed. Certain biometric enchantments would notify Twilight if she were injured or incapacitated along with the coordinates to teleport her out. Otherwise, the thing was like a bunker. Amnestic enchantments ensured that if anycreature shone a light inside, or if she stuck her snout through the front hole for better oral gratification, her appearance would not be remembered. If any inserted member or orifice did not meet Fluttershy’s personal standards, she could eject the body part with a simple act of will.

But Fluttershy’s standards were very, very low when she was in the box. A creature’s appearance didn’t matter. Size didn’t matter. And she kind of liked stinky pussies and crusty cocks. The loveless, the forlorn, the terminally homely, the socially inept, and the horny-yet-lazy, they all knew that if that box was in the alley behind Berry’s Bar and the line wasn’t too long they could find release.

Angel, of course, would not let her go in alone. She had explained that the box was protection enough. He wouldn’t listen. So she let him sit under her belly with an umbrella, a magazine, and a machete, waiting patiently for her to be done.

He was a good pet.

Tonight she felt especially empty after what happened with Macintosh and even more so what had not happened with him. She was sure he’d have been happy to use her body all day if stupid clam-blocking Applejack hadn’t gotten in the way. Wanting to forget about it, she had set up the box early.

A little too early. Creatures passed by, some glanced at her curiously, but none of them chose to investigate. She pouted, yawned, and eventually curled up next to angel and took a nap.

The sound of someone knocking on her box awakened her. “Hello? Um? Hello? Is anypony in there?”

Fluttershy shook her sleepy head, trying to clear her mind. She almost said she was, but she hated to talk in here. The amnestic spell ought to disguise her voice, but she still felt it broke the anonymity.

The stallion outside sighed. “I should have known. It’s just a prank. Ponies are probably hiding and laughing at me right now. I’ll just go.”

In a panic, Fluttershy poked her nose outside the box and opened it.

“Oh!” said the stallion outside, sounding startled. “I… um… guess you are real?”

Fluttershy opened her mouth and rolled out her tongue. Heart hammering, she waited. She could tell the stallion was nervous. Hesitant. Shy. She knew what that last one was like. She longed to reassure him, but she had to let him come to his decision on his own. The agony of waiting for a hesitant patron was part of the thrill for her, after all.

At last, she was rewarded by the warmth and firmness of a cock on her tongue. It wasn’t a big one, but that was nice. Being choked and gagged was fun, but it took a toll on her little body. Sometimes it was nice to just suck off a normal mouthful.

It was a stinky one, though! Its hard length felt rough at first, but as she licked it she realized the roughness was smegma! Dried cum from the stallion stroking himself off and not cleaning up! What a slob! It didn’t seem a nice thought to imagine it was degrading to suck off a pony like that, but she did feel degraded by the act, and she loved it. A shiver went down her spine as the musky, sour taste of the old cum filled her mouth. The instinct to pull back rose inside of her; the instinct to spit out the greasy load forming in her mouth. But she forced herself to keep sucking. She slid her lips back and forth out along the shaft, slowly cleaning it until most of it was smooth and silky.

Then she paused to drool the yellow-white load in her mouth across her chest and fetlocks. The smell rose into her nostrils, rank and delicious. Her clit twitched, and her pussy dripped in the grass.

Angel sighed and flipped open his umbrella.

“Are you still there?” said the shy stallion.

She poked her nose out, wrapped her lips around the flare, and pulled it inside.

“Oh gosh,” he moaned. He was shaking with excitement, his cock vibrating so much she had to hold it near the base to keep it still. With the whole thing held firmly inside the box, she turned her efforts to finishing her cleaning. There were still bits of smegma crusted behind the flare and around the media ring. She worked at these with her tongue, softening them until they slid off into her mouth.

His trembling thighs thumped against the side of the box. “Fudge, fudge, oh… Oh, that feels… funny… I…”

Fluttershy frowned at some particularly stubborn patches behind the flare. She couldn’t get them off with her tongue; she had to work the edges free and then pull them off with her teeth, prompting a whimper of pain from the shy stallion. Well. Maybe that would teach him to keep it clean.

In the dim light of the box, she marveled at her work. The cock that had come in brown and crusty was now smooth and shiny, mottled pink and white. The tip had lovely scalloped edges previously hidden by crusted cum. She’d done a good deed!

The box shook as the shy stallion, unappreciative of her effort, humped the mouth-hole. Fluttershy giggled and popped her mouth over the flare. She sucked it with all of her might, pulling her cheeks close against his shaft. He gasped and thrust his hips faster. His flare began to spread in her mouth, a sign this would be over too soon. Nonetheless, his excitement was infectious. Her heart raced with anticipation of the load that…

Oh! Yes! It flooded across her tongue, musky and sweet, much better tasting than the dried old smegma she’d cleaned off of him. She drank it down hungrily, and when he was done she sucked the last droplets from his slit.

The limp cock whipped out of the hole, and like that he was gone. She heard his hoofbeats retreating. Was he ashamed? Embarrassed? Over-excited? Freaked out? Maybe he was a virgin. She might well have been his first. The thought made the hair along her spine stand on end.

She pushed the edge of her hoof against her clit, rubbed out a quick orgasm, and settled in to wait for her next patron.

She had almost drifted off to sleep again when she heard them. Three stallions, young, boisterous, laughing and mocking each other. Instinctively she froze; these were the kind of males she would be afraid of outside her box. But inside it… oh, she hoped they did pay her a visit. If they were as confident and as energetic and confident as they sounded, they might be a lot of fun.

“Wait, wait, bro,” said one of them. “What’s this?” She heard them shuffle around the box, reading the words written on it slowly, sounding them out as if the written word were a challenge to them.

“What the fuck?” said one of them.

“It says we can piss in it.”

“Dude, that’s gross.”

“Hey but I gotta take a leak.”

“Bro, you’re not going to… You don’t know what’s in there! You’re gonna get your dick bitten off!”

“You only live once, bro.” A long, slim, semi-erect cock entered through the pussy hole. Fluttershy felt hot fluid splash against her hind hooves. She pushed her ass towards the back of the box so that the hot stream was splashing on her pussy. She let out a soft groan of delight as the warm stream soaked her sex. She inhaled deep and rolled her upper lip, holding the scent of fresh piss in her snout. Pheromones danced around her Jacobson’s organ, making her heart race and her pussy twitch.

“Aw, buck yeah,” said the peeing stallion, his voice heavy with satisfaction. “This slut really let me piss on her!”

“Bro, there’s nobody in there.”

Fluttershy giggled. She mashed her thick, curvy yellow ass back against the box wall, trapping it between her massive cheeks. In a single beat of the stallion’s heart, the member went from floppy to bone-hard and ready.

“Ooooh, fudge there’s somepony in there!” said the stallion with his dick in the box.

“It’s a stallion, bro.”

“Fuck you, if they let me put my dick inside them, they’re a mare to me.”

Fluttershy, approving of the bropony’s open-mindedness, rubbed her plump pussy lips back and forth across the hard shaft. The shaft pulled back and jammed forward, probing for her opening. Fluttershy winked her pussy open, but the thrusting cock kept missing; slamming into her taint and rubbing between her thighs. “Easy, bronco,” she whispered to herself. “Just let me help you with your aim a little…” She reached back between her hind legs and aimed him up and then he was inside of her.

Though Fluttershy kept silent, making only the softest and sweetest of groans, the bropony’s pounding took her instantly to the door of absolute bliss. His cock drove into her pussy like a piston, probing, pulsating, pounding against her womb hatch. His hips banged against the side of the box, shaking the whole thing. If it were possible to move it, he would be pushing it across the grass. His thrusts kept coming, relentless, stretching her tight pussy open, with no sign of him tiring or finishing.

She smacked her ass back against him. Her eyes rolled up into her skull. Her jaw hung open. Her tongue lolled out. Drool trickled into the grass. Her soft body quivered with exquisite, submissive pleasure. So lost was she in the sublime sensation that when another cock darkened the mouth hole she didn’t notice until it poked her between the eyes. Fluttershy grabbed it around the medial ring. “Oh, another big one like your friend,” she whispered before guiding it to her piehole. When the stallion felt the wetness of her mouth he let out a war whoop and jammed his cock forward into her throat. Fluttershy gagged, letting out a deep, ugly gurgle. Her abused throat throbbed with pain as she twisted against the penetration, and while any sane mare would pull away from that, Fluttershy literally leaned into it, mashing her face against the mouth hole, desperate to get more cock in her throat.

She hung between the two stallions, hooves barely brushing the grass, jerking back and forth, impaled between the two friends. Her aroused wings spread out and mashed against the sides of the box, her wide wingspan causing them to mush up against the cardboard. She never wanted the sensation to end, but even the most stalwart of stallions could only last so long in her tight holes. The one in her throat came first, bellowing and pounding on the roof of her box as he shot ropes of cum straight into her tummy. The one in her pussy exploded seconds later, filling her tiny right cunt with a load so thick and copious it hurt.

There was a hollow thump as the two studs hoofbumped above her box. Cum poured out of her pussy and mouth when they pulled out of her.

“You want a turn?” the first stallion said to their third friend.

“I don’t want you guys’ sloppy seconds, bro.”

“So do her up the butt. There’s a hole for it right there.”

“Ugh, gross,” said the third stallion. “Poop comes out of there.”

“Well,” said the second stallion, “If you’re gonna be squeamish about that kind of thing, I guess you’re not gonna get your nut.”

A fourth voice broke in. “Piss or get off the pot, guy. Creatures are waiting.” said a fourth voice, a low, gravely voice that she knew well from his frequent visits to the box. She’d never been able to match the voice to a face—which was probably for the best; it felt weird when she had to interact with a box client, somecreature who’d been intimate with her and possibly rocked her world and would never know it—but she loved it when she heard it outside the box.

The third stallion mumbled something, backing away while the gravely one climbed up on the front of the box. This was always how he started—a hard, musky black cock with no medial ring (was he a donkey or a mule) in through the mouth hole. She knew to just take the flare between her lips.

“Speaking of pissing or getting off the pot… ahhh. There we go.”

Hot, acrid urine flooded her mouth and rolled down her throat in a frothy surge.

Fluttershy guzzled, lips locked around his flare, hungry for the gross, humiliating treat. He always came to her with a full bladder, and she loved it.

“Harmony, that feels good,” said Gravely, breathless. “You’re the best urinal in the Canter River valley.”

Fluttershy, of course, was too busy struggling to keep up with his golden flow. It filled her mouth til her cheeks bulged out, and she had to swallow and swallow and swallow to keep from losing any of that precious, pheromone-rich fluid. By the time he was done her tummy was bulging like she was about to give birth, and her brain was buzzing with chemically enhanced lust. Once his bladder was empty, he pulled his hard, dripping cock away from her lips. His hoofsteps clopped around to the back of the box, where he slid his cock in through the ‘PONUT’ hole. She swung her tail to one side and bit her lower lip. Trembled as his flare rammed against her slicked-up and prepared ponut. He pounded against it, battering his way in. groaned with desire as he felt her silky bowels embrace his flares.

Creatures waiting in line murmur with excitement as they saw how much he was enjoying the mysterious mare inside the box.

Fluttershy pressed her ass against the box until it flattened out against the cardboard like cookie dough on a baking pan. She felt her ass-flesh ripple as he used her, driving deeper and deep into her intestines, making her bottom ache, making her pussy burn. He was familiar with her body; he knew how much punishment she could take, and knew what she liked. Which was taking all the punishment he could dish out.

“Oh, your asshole is extra silky tonight,” he groaned. “Nice and tight, too. How do you keep it so tight? You’re a popular mare. The line’s around the side of the building already.”

Fluttershy blushed and giggled at the flattery.

His banter turned slowly to blissful moans. She felt his thrusts quickening, and reached between her thick thighs to rub at her nub, wanting to time her orgasm with his. She kneaded it hard, being rough with herself. If she felt raw and walked with a waddle later. Well. That would just remind her that she’d had a good night.

“Holy Celestia!” gasped Gravely. His cock thickened, and cum spurted into the depths of her body. She came in the next second, gritting her teeth, grinding her leathery hoof-edge against her clit. Her ass clenched his cock, squeezing the last ropes of cum out of it.

He pulled back, gentle, careful, leaving her ass gaping hungrily. “Good girl,” he said, patting the top of the box like it was a dog’s head. “See you in a few days.”

The second he was gone, more cocks rushed in to replace him. One in each hole, hard and dripping pre.

She licked her lips. It was going to be a good night.

Footnotes

1 Macintosh has no musical ability in the AU. The ponytones are deprived of a beautiful voice.

2 Pony toilets are of the ‘hole in the floor’ variety so that they can be used standing or squatting. The human ‘sitting toilet with the tank on the back’ would be impossible for tail-havers to sit on and would be sprayed by penis-havers who can’t see to aim down there.

3 Which Twilight was starting to suspect was a manifestation of some kind of instinctive Earth pony magic. She certainly wasn’t the first to think of this; the unicorn academic establishment dismissed ‘Earth pony magic’ as superstition and confirmation bias, but that attitude didn’t make the claims go away. But, she wasn’t about to stake her credibility on exploring itany more than she already had. Partly because this alleged magic wasn’t as willing to play nice with existing magic measuring equipment, and partly because if she did prove Earth Pony magic existed Pinkie might be smug about it.

4 Poorly understood by unicorns. Poorly understood by unicorns because most unicorn Universities relegate the study of pegasus magic to the equipology department. Prank culture being as entrenched as it is in pegasus society, when khaki-clad, pith helmet-wearing unicorns self-levitate into their cities asking to be immersed in their ‘quaint spiritual customs’ pegasus weather workers are only too happy to oblige.

5 Very definitely earth pony magic this time. Pinkie's not the only one who can to this, she's just best at it.