Extra A/N: I have been keeping the focus on Silly and Pear Butter in the portions of each chapter prior to the half (i.e. 16-16.5-ish); however, the previous two (16.5 and 16.6) slightly disrupted that cycle. You can thank a failed Wisdom Saving Throw for the return to the Moon for the one and Cadence for the other. She could have just gone to her tutor to study -like she was... supposed to be doing!- but no, she wanted to branch out a bit... by exercising some ‘alicorn authority’ thereby moving her scenes up a bit in the posting schedule.

You know, I’m picking up on some sass, Author.

That’s good, Mi Amore Cadenza, because I’m laying it on pretty thick!

You know I prefer, ‘Cadence.’ Why do you insist on using-… … Wait. What did you do?

A- anyway, in order to maintain as much chronological order as I can, the ‘post half’ will get some additional main character bits which would otherwise have been 16.5. I apologize for the seeming issue with the dates. Ultimately, it shouldn’t affect much.

What did you do! Show me what you posted last week.

No! It’s not ready yet.

But you already posted- wait… Which one did you post?

… …

Hey! Get back here!

I got away from Spitfire! I can duck from you!

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Chiffon Swirl**

I don’t want to wake up right now, but I know that I need to. The bakery needs me to prep some doughs; heat up the ovens; start saucing various berries and vegetables; and get the sugars ready for glazing, frosting, or caramelizing just like any other day. Except, it is not like any other day, because last night was not like any other night.

Usually, my afternoon slows down after the lunch rush as Lemon takes over the cleanup and gets the remaining products sold on clearance, because nopony wants stale goods. I further wind down by cleaning myself, counting the till, and maintaining the ledger. That’s a fairly standard day for a baker; and if there is enough day left, I like conclude with a romantic book from the library and some private mare time.

Waking up isn’t normally this difficult. Mornings are busy, and I am supposed to be accustomed to this schedule by now. But: last night.

I don’t want to move. I’m a nature-pony, and I’m used to hard work; but everything is sore in the best way -especially my belly. My hind quarters are still tingling from the snuggliest snuggle I ever thought could still be classified as snuggling.

It is this most satisfying tingling and delightful throbbing that grounds my mind: last night was not a dream; it was real. My best friend allowed me to join her and her stallion.

Slowly opening my eyes, I can see it’s still dark, but I can clearly see my friends’ sleeping eyes and her muzzle pressed up to mine.

They both brought me into their closest and most intimate circle of friendship; they were loving and attentive, and it wasn’t over quickly. I didn’t think it was possible for a mare to feel like such a mare so many times in one night.

It was so different than when mares help each other during heat. In those times, it’s usually more mechanical: get in, scratch the itch, and get out. This was a whole new level of friendship.

I will never think Granny Smith to exaggerate or tell ‘old mares’ tales’ ever again. If anything, she has been underselling the Apple prowess; and Bright Mac surely has his equal with Pear Butter.

It was like they found a way for nature-ponies to harness the most genteel of any Pegasus-made lightning and slowly and steadily apply it to all the right places; it was as though they both found a way to grab magical moonlight with their hooves and rub it all over. Every nerve in my body became alive and joyous, and they just kept turning up the intensity until the next thing I knew was waking up enveloped by my best friend, Pear Butter.

If anypony could claim to touch the Everlasting Graze and return to tell about it, then I, Chiffon Swirl, can now do so. The mere thought that I might have to separate from her is dolorous, but I have a business to run and food to prepare.

Bright Mac isn’t here. He had to go back home to Sweet Apple Acres, but nopony was too sad about the separation. During one of the few water breaks, Pear sang him a song she’d been writing, and he presented her with a stone carving to signify his union to her Mountain heritage. The snuggling resumed in earnest to consummate their proposed union.

Pear Butter extended an offer to let me herd with her and Bright Mac at Sugarcube Corner yesterday on the condition that I talked with Carrot Cake first. Whenever I started to feel like I was intruding, they pulled me in and shared harder.

I’ve never been a particularly confident mare, but I can talk with Pear and Bright Mac so much easier than with Carrot. That’s mostly because I am used to my friends. I just get so nervous around Carrot Cake.

I’m pretty sure the odds of him being able to snuggle anywhere near as well as Bright Mac or Pear is extremely low…

But I have fancied Carrot for a long time; he’s that ‘colt next door’ type: tall, quiet, submissive, cooperative, and paternal. He’s all the things a mare would want; but after last night, I have doubts that Carrot can fulfill the physical needs I never knew I had.

I do have one secret fantasy, though; I borrowed a particularly saucy romance novel from one of my friends, Ivory Scroll, who got it from a friend out in San Fransiscolt who supposedly got it when she visited Prance, because they don’t have the same publishing rules as Equestria since they’re a territory instead of provincially governed.

The book talks about one mare with two stallions! The audacity. To act on it as a mare would feel like selfishness ponified; but from time to time, I have wondered. I could never ask Carrot and Bright Mac since the two are very likely unevenly yolked in their snuggling skills.

… But if they were?

Oh~ but none of it matters, because I haven’t confessed to Carrot yet!

I got so worked up after my unmentionables were literally aired in front of everypony -including Carrot Cake- at Sugarcube Corner yesterday; and then even more after Silly started nursing from me that when I did find Carrot Cake, I ended up embarrassing myself in front of him.

***Flashback, Evening 003 Summer CC (yesterday), Ponyville***

It was around dinner time, so I figured he’d be near his home either helping his sisters with their homework or his sire in the kitchen.

My mind was swirling with everything from the day. I think I experienced every emotion known to marekind, and now I’m going in for another round. This must be some kind of record.

Ever since Pear made her offer, my insides have been so warm and tight and noticeable; and now I’m on my way to talk to Carrot-

“Hello, Chiffon.”

“Ah!” I jumped a bit and spun towards the sound. My hooves must have brought me to his house while I wasn’t paying attention, because there he was -blushing at me with a small smile.

I don’t know how long we stood there and silently stared at each other; but at some point, I couldn’t take it anymore and blurted out, “Uh~! It- it’s five forty-two.” I don’t even know if that’s what time it was. All I knew is that I didn’t know what else to do, so I ran away.

I think I saw his head tilt and one ear droop as I turned the corner.

***End of Flashback***

I’m so humiliated -a grown mare running away from a stallion. They’re some of the most docile creatures on the planet, and I can barely talk to them. I’m definitely going to have to find Carrot today and apologize. Pear’s going to tell me to do just that when she finds out.

I should wake her up; I need to get to work, and so does she.

Look at her; she’s such an alpha protector. I’m a little taller and… a little wider, yet she has me tucked and protected under her barrel and wrapped up in her embrace.

After a few pecks on her lips, I get no reaction; so, I take it up a gentle notch. In her sleep, she pulls me in and fills my muzzle. I’m suddenly very aware how we both ought to feed Silly soon, and those familiar flames deep down in my belly start stoking when her eyes begin to open.

As the light of consciousness enters her eyes, she closes them again and continues this waking activity with gusto. Would Carrot do this? Maybe a stallion would if asked…

Only after a faint grey light peeks into the room does our lips break the connection, “Mornin’, Cupcake,” she says.

Last night, Bright Mac was calling her Buttercup or, ‘Cup,’ because that’s his special nickname for his mare; but he also called me, ‘Cup,’ and, ‘Cupcake,’ because of the cupcakes on my Cutie Mark. She’s a Cup, and I’m a Cup -two Cups. Sometimes Harmony likes to pair ponies poetically like that. I wonder if this is one of those signs…

“Good morning,” I reply as she yawns and stretches but somehow keeps me tucked close, safe, and warm.

She looks me over, “Y’all doin’ alright?” After a few sniffs says, “We should probably wash up before startin’ the day.” Only now do I realize how right she is. Under no circumstances should either of us go near any other ponies after all we did last night drained out and soaked into our tails while we slept.

Pear Butter looks around the room and concludes, “Silly’s probably with daddy.” She looks back to me and beckons, “Come on. We can talk about how y’u’re feelin’ in the bath. And it’s just gonna be a bath. Ah know y’u were wantin’ to get frisky; I was, too, but we both got work an’ chores that comes first.”

We both untangle and roll out of my bed, but I fall right onto the floor with a quiet giggle afterwards. I feel foolish, but it felt so good last night.

“Y’alright?” I ask.

She says, “Yeah, but I think I’m not quite used to that level of physical activity.”

“Really?” she wonders, “Ah thought we took it kinda easy on y’u.”

I do a doubletake, “‘Kinda easy?’”

As she helps me up, she says, “Well, y’u’re a nature-pony and a mare; so, yer body’ll get used to the physical side of it.”

My cheeks heat up at the implications, “Oh, my.”

Pulling to me to her so I can lean on her on the way to the bath, she tell me, "Come on. Ah wanna make y'u pretty fer work today." She smiles, and I can't help but smile myself to see that.

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Grand Pear**

I start from the sound of a thump somewhere in the house and bath being drawn soon after. Sounds like my baby is starting her day.

“Ugh~”

It's so obvious: that Granny Smith found some ponies to have another late-night party. I suppose I should have expected this. It’s been almost a year. Perhaps I should be proud of her on some level for nearly a whole year of self-control, but she went and broke her longest streak of celibacy since she hit puberty and took that stallion of hers years before I was even born.

Same story, different chapter. She’s not breaking any laws; so, what can I do? It’s not like we have any town ordinances related to those activities. I doubt the Crown would limit that either with the Princess’ desire to inspire more procreation.

Isn't she past the age of fertility, though? I would like to think that would have some bearing on the matter.

I just have to deal with it. I've done it before; I can do it again. I don't want to get up my hopes, but maybe it was just a one-off.

So, I had a late start to getting to sleep last night.

Then Silly woke up from a nightmare. I put him down in my girl’s old sleeper. I was rather proud of making that; I got the main foal-portion to float on some hinges which allows the frame to be more stable than a bassinet rocker.

Poor little guy must have been scared, because he screamed and wouldn't settle; so, I carried him on my back around the house where he ended up going back to sleep eventually. I guess I ended up taking a nap on the couch with him still there. His wings are slumped down my sides.

I never got to feel that before. It's quite warm.

As I carefully stand up with the squirt on my back, I admit to myself, “Ah suppose Ah should get some food going; though, Ah don’t know what’s here.” Butter said she brought some bits home with her; so, one of us should maybe restock the pantry today.

First thing I find is a basket of fresh fruit. She must have brought those in after her late night in the orchard. Such a good girl.

“Ah," I say partially to myself and the sleeping colt, "I can work with these.”

**Perfect Pear Orchard, Ponyville, Equestria**
**004 Summer CC**
**Pear Butter**

“Ah can’t believe y’u didn’t talk to Carrot yesterday,” I try to gently admonish my friend as I dry her off. Her drooping posture and ears tell me everything I need to know: she’s sorry.

After the kind of friendship we shared last night, well, I don’t really know if Mac and I want to go back to being regular friends with her anymore. Having her there really helped keep us from getting too carried away; it helped us focus more instead of getting as lost in everything the way we have been.

But this was all supposed to be on the condition that she at least tried to make things work with her stallion of choice: Carrot Cake. I don’t blame her preference in those types of ‘pretty colts,’ but a herdmare can’t have divided interests; and she knows that -like any mare does who wants to be in a herd- and sure is divided right now.

I probably should have asked her first; but I assumed that her meeting me and Mac last night was an admission that she tried. So, some fault is on me for not being thorough.

“Ah ain’t mad at y’u, sugarcube,” I say, and she looks at me, “But Ah need y’u to promise that yer gonna try again today.”

I put the towel aside, and she nuzzles into me as I reach for a brush, “I promise,” she says and gets a brush to use as well.

Sitting on our haunches real close to each other, belly to belly, brushing each other’s manes, breathing each other’s air, I can’t help but feel like I’m putting added stress on Chiffon’s heart with little moments of temptation like this. If only Mac was here, he’d be able to complete our-

-No, Pear Butter. You need to focus on getting ready for a long day of choring instead of your stallion who isn’t here or your best friend who is -my beautiful best friend.

As we’re brushing, we’re looking into each other’s eyes, and our muzzles slows drift closer; but right before we reconnect, a new scent hits us and pulls our noses up into the air.

I say, “Ah think daddy’s cookin’,” and I can feel both of our tummies grumble with excitement.

“R- right,” reluctantly, she admits. I know she’s hungry, too, but also disappointed that we had to stop. Sorry, Chiffon, we’re mares; we can’t give into our emotions when we have jobs to do. That’s for after work or breaktime.

To finish, I put her two ties in her mane, and she puts one in mine; and we investigate breakfast.

Before long, we find my sire working some culinary magic with the pears I brought home last night. It looks like he also used the pear-shaped apples that Mac gave me; both he and his dam would have called them, ‘rejects,’ so, he gave them to me. If daddy doesn’t ask, then I’m technically not lying, and he does need to eat more.

“Mornin’, Daddy,” I say. Silly’s flopped out and snoozing on his back, but I have to rouse him for his own breakfast.

He turns and nuzzles me at my approach, “Mornin’, sugarcube. This’ll be ready soon.”

“Thank you, and Ah’ll take him.” I take Silly into the dining room, I sit next to Chiffon, and set him up to me first. He starts without really waking up. Huh. That’s kind of like I did with Chiffon. Chip off the ol’ block right here.

Harmony really fixed me up. Didn’t she?

After a few minutes, I pass him over to Chif, and she lets him have a serving. I wonder if it’s wrong for me to hope that Carrot Cake gets stupid today and lets me take her into my herd… I don’t even know who else I should consider.

Soon, my sire appears with some oat cakes, pear juice, and pear sauce and sets the table for us; although, he stops for a moment when he sees Chiffon.

“Um,” he blinks a few times, “hello?”

“Oh,” I begin, “Daddy, this is Chiffon Swirl. You remember her. Right? We been friends since foalhood and really hit it off at summer camp a few years ago, and she runs the Sugarcube Corner in town.”

“Oh, right,” he nods, “Yeah. What brings you around here so early not that Ah mind guests -especially friends of my filly?” Light from the sun starts to brighten the world beyond our windows.

She blushes and looks to me; so, I answer, “W- we had a~” I suppose I should just come out with it, “a sleepover last night.”

He flinches and looks at me a moment before looking away and seems to think for a moment, “Ah reckon you’re at that age. Aren’t you?” After unstealthily wiping his cheek and clearing his throat, he turns to my friend as she nurses my colt, “So, Chiffon… what are your intentions with my daughter?”

“Oh, daddy,” I facehoof.

Calmly, he tries to placate me, “Now, yer dam’s not here to ask, sugarcube. So, it’s mah job to make sure you’re bein’ courted right.”

I reply, “We haven’t officiated nothin’. Just bein’ friendly is all.”

He nods to me but then looks to Chiffon for her answer. She swallows, “I promise I have the best intentions, Mr. Pear.”

He waves that off, “Mah daughter’s a good judge of character; Ah have full confidence in her choices. So, if’n she done chose you, then you can just call me, ‘dad.’ Eh?”

Her blue cheeks are almost as cherry pink as her mane, but I can see her struggling internally between me and Mac, and her crush on Carrot Cake.

So, I try to change the subject, “Ah’ll be in the orchards today, daddy. Ah should be able to get a cart ready for the lunch rush if y’u feel up to that, but Ah could hurry and set y’u up fer the mornin’ market.”

He takes that in and ends up shaking his head, “Lunch should be fine. Ah noticed Silly ain’t shod, and Ah still got yer ol’ shoes. They should fit. Plus, he’s old enough to help me with some fencing.”

Ponies don’t always wear those, but farmland isn’t smooth like the roads in town or in Baltimare. Ponies could get hoof damaged easier without them; so, if a pony expects to spend a lot of time ‘off road,’ then shoes are a good idea. A farmpony’s shoes can be heavier than the other types of fashionable options; although, I think the Guard and Rangers have some heft to their equipment.

A Pegasus might get tired wearing a grown mare’s hoofwear, but my old foal shoes should be small and light enough for Silly.

“They ain’t too worn?” I ask.

He says, “Nah. Foals grow out of their first set too fast for that.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say and look to Silly, “How’s that sounds, Silly? Mah first shoes and yer first shoes?”

He looks at me from Chiffon when I said his name, then, “B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b!”

Chif and I look to each other and then to my sire who froze with a spoon of food on its way back to the bowl. I take a napkin and wipe the colt’s muzzle of the liquid moustache and then my friend’s foal-feeding area.

She smirks to me and whispers, “Thank you.” I just wink in response.

I’ll ask the doctor why she might be producing when I see him next. I have heard that it can happen for mares around foals on very rare occasions. Mac surely wasn’t complaining last night, though. Don’t suppose I can blame him, either: two lovely mares with ample bounties almost exclusively for him.

Maybe I could have that too, if we found some more mares…

My street colt might have inspired some habits in me and my stallion.

Daddy purses his lips in concentration and concludes by asking, “What are you doing, Silly?”

He crawls up with our help onto the table and stretches, saying, “Silly.” My sire smiles at him while the colt gets himself ready for the day but seems to look distant when he starts spreading his wings the way Stormy taught him.

Chif and I both finish at the same time, and I tell my guys, “We have to be gettin’ on to work. Y’all be good.” We both give Silly both kisses and nuzzles as we leave, and my sire gets some nuzzles from the both of us. When we’re outside, I make sure my friend receives some before she goes to start baking.

Author's Note

I apologize for the lateness. I didn't think this chapter would get so in-depth on Chiffon's situation, but she found herself a conundrum and wanted to think about it. Any opinions on what Carrot Cake will do?

I was hoping to finish out 004 Summer CC from Ponyville with this one chapter and close out the rest of Chapter 16 with some characters outside of Ponyville... I'm not entirely sure 16 will button up as clean as I hoped, but we'll see if I can figure something out. I guess more characters with their own sets of problems will do that. I should put all my named characters in a blog post... maybe next week? There's a lot.

Personified -> ponified

Chiffon’s awkward moment with Carrot Cake was inspired by Superbad. When the autocorrect said that 40 is spelt ‘forty,’ instead of, 'fourty,' I had to look that up; because it does not look right as, 'forty,' but it is, apparently. It seems I’ve just been using a pre-15th century spelling my whole life for that number for absolutely no reason.

...We set forth to fortify a fort. ‘Twas our fortieth fortalice, and fortuitous was the design. Quite forty, I’d say as our forte in fortifications really forted the mental image, fortunately. It would have looked awful otherwise...