A Game of Flats

For some, rainy days were lazy days—especially since there weren’t any games scheduled. A group of athletes didn’t take a bye day lying down. Sleeping in was great, watching the rain fall passed the time, breakfast had proceeded at a languid pace, but by lunchtime some got restless. The hoofball field was being rained on, but the gym wasn't, and the basketball hoops hadn’t been taken down yet.

For Lola, it was a chance to play a game she loved. Hoofball was fun, but basketball was where she shined.

Two teams were made up over lunch; mixed ponies and Toons. Both Tweety Bird and Sweet Biscuit—on the injured list—volunteered to referee.

Even with the modified rules, Lola played as traditionally as she could. In deference to the ponies, dribbling was not required; there was no such thing as a traveling penalty.

In the spirit of fairness, unicorns could receive passes with their magic, but they could not steal the ball nor shoot the ball with magic—hoof contact was required.

Everybody—and everypony—had learned things during the previous basketball games. Their teammate knowledge had only been increased by the hoofball games; while some had grumbled that not only did the rules keep changing, but so did the teams. That had given anybody who was paying attention a better understanding of what everypony—and everybody—could offer.

•••

The game started off rough, as pickup games often do. Neither team was really playing in sync; passes were missed, opportunities lost. Drives fell short, missed shots weren’t rebounded, and then five minutes into the game it started to gel for both sides. For the ponies, skills learned but not used in a week came back; for the Toons everything they’d learned about their teammates—and opponents—started to factor in.

Lola threw a wide pass towards Aloha, who’d been keeping a close eye on the bunny. She grabbed it with her magic, pulled it in, and galloped down the court with the ball, passing it back as she crossed the halfcourt line.

Lola cut wide, tilted her head towards the backboard as if she was going to try for a three-pointer, Yosemite Sam moved to block her and opened up a pass opportunity back to the unicorn.

Cloud Kicker was playing a loose defense, since she knew Aloha didn’t have a good shot, and missed the ball as it came by. Aloha didn’t hold it, she rocketed it back to Lola, who was now in position for an easy layup.

One of the teams was largely made up of Toons; the other was majority pony. Lola was the only exception. Even with the modified rules they shouldn’t have had a chance against a well-honed team who were good at playing the sport as intended.

But Lola knew that the ponies weren’t glory hogs—except for Cloud Kicker—they’d get the ball to whoever was in the best position to make the shot. Teamwork led to victory.

They were still down at the half but quickly gaining momentum.

•••

“Whoth thide are you on?” Sylvester grumbled as they walked to the locker rooms.

“The winning side.” Lola stuck her tongue out at him.

A week ago, the shared locker room had been weird, uncomfortable territory. Lola was well aware that she was the minority gender in her group—over here the rules were shifted. A few stallions, but the bulk of the ponies were mares and the vibe was that of a girl’s locker room where guys were grudgingly allowed. Over time, she’d gotten more and more comfortable and was going to miss it when she left.

Her teammates were around her as she undressed, and they all walked into the showers together. The earth ponies and pegasi often team-bathed and she wondered if that was a boundary she was ready to cross if she had to. She didn’t; Aloha could use her magic to wash.

The final level of bonding, she thought as she shampooed.

•••

Aloha’s ears perked at the soft knock on the door. She glanced across the room at her roomie—Sweet Biscuit was stretched out on her bed, reading a magazine.

The two exchanged a glance, and Sweet Biscuit closed the magazine and got out of bed.

“You don’t—” Aloha began.

“Yeah, I do. You need this.”

Aloha beat her roommate to the door. “Hi, Lola, come on in.”

“Headed to Yuma’s room,” Sweet Biscuit announced as she passed by. “Catch ya later.” She walked out of the room and pulled the door shut behind her.

“She’s—”

“I can’t believe this is the last day.’ Lola sat down on Aloha’s bed. “And then . . . .”

“Consider it a friendship lesson.” The unicorn stuck out her tongue. “Our princess is big on those. Sometimes part of making new friends is leaving them behind.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like it.”

“Me neither. We can write each other.”

“Not the same. I’ll think about what could have been.”

“Still could be. We’ve got tonight.”

“We do.” Lola put her hands on the hem of her shirt and then paused. “She’s not going to come back, is she?”

“Biscuit?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ve got a signal.” Aloha lit her horn, suffusing her tail-scrunchie with a glow of magic. “On the doorknob outside, she’ll know.” She already knew. “Go ahead.”

Lola reached for the scrunchie and hesitated—it was right around the unicorn’s dock; touching it was basically groping her.

Wasn’t that what she wanted?

She was a brave bunny. Confident, strong, willful . . . she reached out a paw and touched the scrunchie, a simple thing of beads and elastic and yet it could be the key to so much more.

The beads were wooden, painted with a bright enamel that was chipped in places, and she felt Aloha’s tail twitch as she grasped and pulled, focusing instead on not pulling out tail hairs. Then it was done, the scrunchie was in her hand, still warm from the unicorn.

She crossed the room in a daze. The doorknob was cold and refreshing, a spritz of cold water on what was getting hot fast—almost too fast.

It stretched over the doorknob and just hung there, and was it a warning or a brag? She’d seen one pony who liked to wear ribbons in her tail and caught sight of a zebra with a tail-wrap; other than that, all the ponies went without any fashion accessories back there. Did that mean anything? Was it an advertisement, an invitation, or was it just something that Aloha liked?

Lola half-expected to turn and find the unicorn spread-eagled on the bed with a sultry ‘come-hither’ expression, but she wasn’t.

Back home, just being naked was a signal of readiness . . . here, it meant nothing. Or maybe it did; maybe there was some nuance that Lola didn’t get.

How was this going to work anyway? There wasn’t anything in the pony’s room to serve as a distraction, a social lubricant—or at least, not for her. No TV, so no movie to watch while snuggling. Maybe she had some beer or wine.

And where to sit? There was a desk chair, there was Aloha’s bed, and that was it.

Best to sit next to each other. Lola hopped up on the bed and leaned back against the wall; the unicorn jumped up beside her and stepped around on the mattress, rocking the bunny as she moved.

She finally sat up against the wall, too, settling down alongside Lola, her hind legs splayed out and her forelegs in between.

“Is that comfortable?”

“Sort of, it’s not the best. Beds aren’t really made for sitting in.” Aloha pushed a forehoof on the mattress. “Too springy, but it’s not as comfortable if it’s hard.”

“That’s what she said.” Lola snickered. “So . . . now what?”

“Are you feeling flirty?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Just wanna go right at it?”

Lola shook her head. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

“How about just snuggling, then? Maybe some grooming? I’ll get my brushes.”

“Grooming?”

Aloha nodded and got back on her hooves.

“Can’t you use your magic?”

“I could, but we weren’t really comfortable yet, and I want to save it for later.”

Lola nodded, wondering what that meant. ‘Save it for later.’ Could she use her magic for sex? Probably. What form would that take? What would it feel like? It was tingly on her fingers, not unpleasant, like a mild electric current. That might be a very interesting sensation in sensitive places . . . she shivered in anticipation, and then put her focus back on the unicorn. Seeing her fully naked outside of the locker room—it felt different, but she couldn’t say why that was so. Her scrunchie didn’t cover anything.

What would it be like to be so carefree when it came to clothes? To genuinely have no concern about anybody who was looking at her, to go about everything in her life wearing naught but her fur?

If the boys weren’t here on campus, she might have tried it. The ponies wouldn’t think it strange, or would they?

Aloha pulled open a drawer on her dresser, got out a couple of brushes with her magic and then turned and headed back to the bed.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to use your magic.”

“Not to get them out of the dresser, that’s hard. I have to open the drawer and ‘feel’ around for them. Just carrying them’s easy, a foal could do it.”

“Doesn’t seem easy. Remember a few days back where we were talking about distractions on the field?”

Aloha nodded.

“If we hadn’t started out with basketball where I have a natural advantage over you ponies, I think I might have spent just as much time watching things fly around by spell than actually playing the game. I got used to it, so long as I don’t think about it too much.”

“I felt that way the first time I met a hippogriff. She was weird, kind of like a pony but not, and then after a while she just started to look normal to me, that was how hippogriffs were supposed to look. The next one I saw, instead of contrasting her with a pony, I compared her to another hippogriff.”

The unicorn settled on the bed, sitting in the same position as before. “We’re going to have to do some figuring out, do you want to take turns brushing or mutual-groom?”

“Maybe take turns?” Lola reached out and grabbed the mane brush out of Aloha’s aura, feeling the now familiar tingle as her fingers reacted with her field.

“Can I lie down on your lap?”

“Sure.”