The Ponyville Prowler

The little town of Ponyville was known for many things, some more so than others. The town boasted a short, but rich history, which its older citizens were fond of recounting to their grandchildren, when they could get those fillies and colts to sit still and listen. The weekly farmer's market attracted buyers and sellers from miles around, and featured everything from juicy, red apples to hand-knitted quilts to fresh-baked pies and everything in between. The many shops that lined its quiet streets were small and humble, but bursting with character; where else could one find a shop that sold only quills and sofas?

One thing that Ponyville was not known for, however, was its night life. When the sun sank below the horizon every evening, settling in for a long, peaceful snooze, most of the town's residents quickly followed suit, slipping beneath their bed sheets, closing their tired eyes, and slipping off to dreamland. The little lanes and streets would fall quiet, and the windows of homes and shops would darken, one by one. Of course, as with all things, there were exceptions to this.

On an unremarkable little street, sandwiched between an unremarkable candy store and an unremarkable china shop, sat an unremarkable little pub, the windows of which were still brightly lit, unlike those of its neighbors. Also unlike its neighbors, that particular establishment, known to its patrons as "The Kissing Clams", was neither quiet nor still; the faint sounds of conversation and music could be heard emanating from within, and the occasional occupant walked past its brightly lit windows.

Yes, the Clams, as it was often called, was one of those few establishments in Ponyville which stayed open into the later hours of the evening, serving as a warm, friendly place to sip one's favorite beverage as the lovely moon loomed overhead. While the pub had never been the most popular in town, its close-knit community of regulars made up for its small size with dedicated and loving support for its favorite late-night meeting place. The mares who frequented that cozy little pub would often spend long hours eating, drinking, and gabbing together, filling the building with the sound of their laughter.

Of course, as much as they enjoyed each other's company, those mares were no party animals, and most would usually retire before the hour grew scandalously late. As such, it was long before midnight that the front door of the Clams was pushed open, and two of its last remaining customers stepped out onto the street.

The first one to cross the threshold was a young mare, only a few years into adulthood, although one could have been forgiven for not recognizing this, given the mature, motherly body she boasted. Acres upon acres of plush, off-white flesh covered her curvaceous legs, her wide, childbearing hips, and her ample chest. Much of that mass was due to a regular diet of sweets and candies, a necessary evil of her profession, although most of that weight had been strategically allocated to her huge, wobbling rear, her plump, pillowy thighs and to her immense, mouthwatering breasts, rather than to her soft tummy, a fact that she had mixed feelings about. That tantalizing mareflesh was concealed, at least partially, by a beautiful, form-fitting dress of sapphire-blue color that hung from her bare shoulders by a pair of spaghetti straps, and ran down almost to her knees. A pair of matching blue, wedge-heeled shoes covered her feet, and a tiny, almost decorative purse was slung over her shoulder. A long tail poked out of the tail-hole of her dress, its swirly locks colored pink and blue, like those of her cute, prettily styled mane. The face beneath those swirly bangs was wholesomely pretty, with big, blue eyes and a set of plush lips built for smiling and smooching, and bore a modest amount of makeup.

"'Night, Berry," said the mare, glancing back over her shoulder as she stepped through the door.

"'Night, Bon Bon," came the response from the pub's bartender.

The mare that stepped through the door just after the first was notably different in appearance, although no less alluring to behold. She was around the same age as the other, although her physique was much more typical of a young mare such as her, being thinner, but still quite voluptuous. Her long, feminine legs led up to a set of wide hips that gave her a picturesque hourglass figure, setting her apart from her pear-shaped companion. While she did not have quite as much meat on her bones, her belly being slim and trim, and her arms slender and nubile, she still boasted a pair of impressively large breasts, and a soft, round bottom that she could get a good jiggle out of when she wanted to. She, too, wore a sleeveless, form-fitting dress of similarly beautiful make, although hers lacked straps, showed off slightly more of her mint-green thighs, and was of a dull golden coloration. Matching wedge-heeled sandals covered her feet, and she clasped a small purse in one hand. The long tail that sprouted from her lower back was a slightly lighter green than her coat, and featured streaks of pristine white, matching her mane. The long, straight locks upon her head, despite normally being styled in a carefree, almost messy fashion, had been combed and brushed into a more appealing arrangement that night, showing off the long, spiraling horn that poked through her bangs. The face beneath that mane was not as overtly feminine as the rest of her, having a sort of impish, tomboyish quality to it, yet her golden-yellow eyes and her adorable, grinning lips would have been enough to win the heart of anyone who gazed upon them, even if her natural beauty had not been accentuated by a slight amount of makeup.

"'Night, Berry," said the second mare, taking a quick glance back inside.

"'Night, Lyra," replied the bartender, before the door closed between them.

The heat of the day had largely receded by that time, leaving the night air comfortably warm for the two mares. Still, Bon Bon shivered briefly as a sudden breeze blew past her, and she felt its cool caress running over her curves. The old, wooden sign hanging over the door creaked softly as the wind disturbed it, the noise drawing Bon Bon's gaze upwards. She looked upon the sign, seeing the familiar image of the two stylized clams sharing a loving smooch, then looked past it, up to where the moon hung high overhead, surrounded by a blanket of stars.

"What time is it?" said Bon Bon, a hint of concern in her voice.

"It's uh..." Lyra began, slinging her purse over her shoulder. "I dunno. Maybe ten? Eleven?"

Bon Bon grumbled softly. "We shouldn't have stayed out this late," she said. "We should have gone home earlier."

"What?" said Lyra casually, stepping up to Bon Bon. "And cut date night short? Why in Equestria would you wanna do that? You spent so long working on my mane, after all."

Bon Bon ignored the jab. Lyra cared little about her appearance, and would have gladly gone out and about with bed-head, had Bon Bon allowed her to. Bon Bon was especially stringent when it came to their regular date nights, the mare refusing to let her marefriend leave the house until every last hair in that uncooperative mane of hers had been wrangled into submission. The impatient Lyra hated having to sit still while her marefriend laboriously combed and brushed her mane for her, and would inevitably moan and groan about it like a child. Of course, the fact that Lyra went along with it anyway, allowing her marefriend to doll her up to her satisfaction, was not lost on Bon Bon. Lyra never admitted it, but Bon Bon could tell that she secretly enjoyed being prettified, especially if she thought it would make Bon Bon happy.

"You know why," said Bon Bon sternly. "I didn't want us to have to walk back home this late. Not with...you-know-who out there."

"Who-know-who?" said Lyra, her confusion clearly genuine.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes. Her marefriend's obliviousness was cute sometimes, but that time was not one of them. "You know...the Prowler," said Bon Bon, speaking the name softly, as if she feared the one it belonged to might somehow hear it.

Lyra almost burst out laughing, but managed to stifle her giggling when she saw the deathly seriousness in her marefriend's eyes. "The Prowler?" she said. "Oh, come on, Bonny. You can't seriously be worried about that!"

"I am serious!" said Bon Bon, annoyed at her marefriend's casual attitude. "You heard what happened to Spoiled. What if...What if the Prowler is still out there? It's only been a few days, after all."

"Oh, that was a one-in-a-million thing," said Lyra. "Besides, you heard the mayor. The royal guard are on the case, and they're doing round-the-clock patrols while they investigate. There's nothin' to worry about! Heck, I bet the guards'll have that dirty mare-molester behind bars by tomorrow, and things'll all go back to normal."

Bon Bon sighed. "I sure hope so," she said, crossing her arms defensively.

Sensing her marefriend's concern, Lyra got in close to her and elbowed her playfully. "Hey, relax," she said. "I'm not about to let some lowlife pervert get at my marefriend. If the Prowler wants to get to you, they're gonna have to go through me." As she said this, she struck a pose, and flashed Bon Bon a heroic grin.

Bon Bon rolled her eyes at the protective declaration, which would have been more meaningful had it not been spoken by a mare who ran and cowered behind her marefriend if so much as a tiny spider made its way into their home. At the same time, she couldn't help but smile at the genuine care and love she knew lurked beneath that bravado. Her marefriend may have been a massive dork, but it still put her at ease to know that she would always have her back.

"Thanks, babe," said Bon Bon.

Lyra locked arms with Bon Bon. "Don't mention it, babe," she said, before leaning in and giving her marefriend's cheek a quick peck.

The two marefriends set off, walking side-by-side as they made their way back to their home on the other side of town. Bon Bon was visibly on edge as they weaved between the silent homes and shops around them, her eyes scanning every shadowy nook and cranny they passed. Her footsteps unconsciously quickened, but Lyra forced her to slow down and walk at a more leisurely pace, as if trying to physically force her to relax.

Lyra couldn't blame her marefriend for her concern. Despite her bravado, Lyra was also a bit fearful of the mysterious mare-molester that had so shamelessly violated one of Ponyville's most prominent mares just a few days earlier. Lyra had seen the papers, and she had heard the rumors, and while she recognized that much of what she had heard might have been exaggerated, that had not stopped her vivid imagination from running wild. Lewd and lurid scenes had often slipped into her mind over the past few days as the mare had envisioned herself as a victim of the one the papers had named "The Ponyville Prowler". The thought of some shadowy villain abducting her in the dead of night, spiriting her away, then proceeding to give her a molesting so intense that her grandfillies would feel it, sent a shiver down Lyra's spine and, though she never would have admitted it, made her little marehood quiver in excitement.

The fact that Lyra found the horrific scenario appealing in a primal, carnal sort of way made her feel more than a little bit ashamed. She knew she shouldn't be fantasizing about such perverted things, for more reasons than one. She had a marefriend, after all, one whom she loved, and with whom she had a healthy sexual relationship. There wasn't anything some unscrupulous villain could give her that her beautiful Bonny couldn't...right?

Lyra sighed internally as she was forced to recognize her own dishonesty. While she loved her marefriend more than anything else in the world, and loved being with her, Lyra still found herself feeling somewhat...dissatisfied in certain respects. The two had been going steady for a long time, and had long since begun sharing a bed together, but in that time, Lyra had become steadily more frustrated that her marefriend's cautious, level-headed demeanor extended to everything she did, including their bedroom activities. Bon Bon just loved taking things slow, moving at a glacial pace, and taking what felt like hours to tortuously tease Lyra, who didn't have the patience for such things. Just once, she wished her marefriend would let loose, pin her down, and give her the sort of rough, wild rutting that would make her scream loud enough to wake the neighbors.

As her mind indulged in that particular fantasy, Lyra's needy body soon responded, her heartbeat quickening, her thighs quivering, and her lower lips growing moist. Her eyes wandered over to the object of her affections, taking in Bon Bon's heavy breasts and her doughy ass, savoring the way her marefriend's flesh jiggled slightly with every step she took. Suddenly, an idea popped into Lyra's lustful head, an idea of how she could get her anxious marefriend's mind off of recent events.

Lyra gave Bon Bon a playful hip-bump. "Hey," she said.

Bon Bon looked over at her marefriend, seeing the bedroom eyes Lyra was giving her.

"The night's still young," Lyra continued, speaking in the most sensual tone she could muster. "How 'bout you and I head home, crack open the rocky road and...have ourselves a little...afterparty?" As she said this, she dipped a fingertip into the top of her dress and pulled it down slightly, exposing a tantalizing inch of the mint-green cleavage it had concealed.

Bon Bon knew her marefriend well. She knew perfectly well what Lyra was suggesting, and what's more, she knew the reason why she was suggesting it...both of the reasons, actually. Bon Bon's eyes quickly darted downwards, taking in Lyra's luscious legs and the big, perky teardrops that hung from her chest, and couldn't deny how sexy her dorky marefriend looked at that moment. Part of her would have loved to take Lyra home, tear the dress from her beautiful body, and spend the rest of the night enjoying every bit of it, and yet...

"Erm...not tonight, Lyra," said Bon Bon, looking away. "I...I have a bit of a headache."

It was a lie, and Bon Bon knew it. What's more, she knew that Lyra knew it too; Lyra wasn't that dense. She hated insulting her marefriend's intelligence like that, but she couldn't bring herself to share the real reason for her rejection.

"Okay, Bonny," said Lyra, and Bon Bon heard clearly the disappointment in her voice, but heard the patience and understanding as well.

The fact that Lyra was not angry with her for such a stupid dismissal only made Bon Bon feel more guilty, but she didn't know what else to do. She didn't want to tell her marefriend that the fears and worries that had clouded her mind over the past few days had not exactly left her in the mood, so to speak. The thought of the Prowler running free, lurking in the shadows, just waiting for a vulnerable mare such as herself to wander by...the thought made her quiver in fright. She had tried to force those thoughts from her mind, but had been unable to keep herself from imagining a pair of strong, lecherous hands seizing her, carrying her off, and having their way with her. It was only natural that she be too on edge to engage in such intimate activities as lovemaking. No self-respecting mare could get turned on while thinking about such things...at least, that's what she told herself.

The excited clenching of her marehood forced Bon Bon to recognize her true feelings, and her cheeks quickly reddened in shame. She had heard what had happened to Spoiled Rich, and while she knew better than to believe every whispered rumor she heard, there was no doubt that the Prowler had put her through the sexual wringer. Whatever the Prowler had done to Spoiled, they had done it long, they had done it hard, and they had done it to every inch of Spoiled's body. The thought of such a thorough mare-molesting repulsed the respectable Bon Bon, but it also lit a fire in her belly that she struggled to ignore.

Bon Bon hesitantly glanced back over at her marefriend. Lyra did not meet her gaze, but Bon Bon could still see the disappointment on her face, and see the frustration. Bon Bon loved her marefriend more than anything, and hated to see her unhappy, and yet, even after the two of them being together for so long, there still remained one aspect of their relationship that neither of them were wholly satisfied with. Bon Bon had fallen in love with Lyra's excitable, goofy personality, but was decidedly less enamored by her marefriend's sexual sophistication, or lack thereof, which she imagined was on par with that of an adolescent colt. If Bon Bon allowed Lyra to direct their lovemaking sessions, then they would consist of nothing more than a few minutes of furious, wild humping and grinding, promptly followed by Lyra passing out next to her, while Bon Bon tended to her own needs with her fingers. Just once, Bon Bon wished Lyra would take things slow, and spend hours pleasuring her needy body, giving every bit of her the attention it craved.

The two marefriends walked on in silence, both attempting to stifle their sexual frustrations, and to ignore the shameful fantasies that encroached upon their minds. So it was that, just a few minutes later, the two arrived at Sweetberry Park, a large park nestled within one of the residential areas of town. It was a beautiful park, and well-maintained, with fields of bright, green grass for running on, plentiful trees for sitting under, and little dirt paths for strolling along on a beautiful, sunny day. Lyra and Bon Bon's home sat just on the other end of the park from where they now stood, so the two mares would often visit it together, holding each other's hands as they walked those paths and took in the lovely scenery around them.

At night, however, it was a different story. At night, that pretty little park took on a much more sinister guise, one which made Lyra and Bon Bon shiver as they beheld it. Those grassy fields, devoid of laughing, playing children, seemed as still and lifeless as a graveyard. Those big, bushy trees, without the light of the sun to brighten them, appeared as tall, menacing figures, their branches like outstretched hands poised to grab at passersby. Those winding paths, which the mares knew like the backs of their hands, seemed to twist and tangle in the gloom, leading off to dark, secluded places they knew not. The mares paused as they beheld the altered landscape, hesitant to step into it, as if they feared they might not step out of it again.

Lyra was the first to recover. "Well, uh..." she began, clearing her throat. "A-Almost home!" She tried to sound cheerful, but did a poor job of hiding her trepidation.

"Yeah," said Bon Bon in a similar tone. "Almost home."

The two mares reflexively reached down and took each other's hands, squeezing tightly. While neither of them was particularly enthusiastic about making their way through the park, they both knew it had to be done. The only other way for the two to get home would have been to take a long, time-consuming detour around the park, and the two did not wish to delay their homecoming any longer than was necessary. The two kept this in their minds as they stepped onto the little path before them, the one that they knew would eventually lead them to their home on the other side. They could tolerate a few minutes of walking through that unnerving landscape if it meant getting home to their nice, warm bed, they told themselves. Unfortunately for them, it would be much more than a few minutes before the two would see their bed again.

The going was uneventful at first. Lyra and Bon Bon followed the path as it weaved through the fields and past sparsely arranged trees, moving at a brisk walk. They heard nothing except the soft crunching of dirt beneath their shoes, and the gentle whistling of the wind as it blew past them, lovingly caressing their beautiful bodies. They jumped once or twice at the rustling of a nearby bush and the snapping of a twig, before the pale moonlight revealed both to have been caused by the skittering of cute little squirrels making their way home to their respective nests. Gradually, the two grew acclimated to their surroundings, and slowly lowered their guard. They even managed to find enjoyment in the moonlit stroll, and the subtle romance of it, and unconsciously slowed their pace.

When the light of the moon was suddenly and completely cut off, however, and the world around them was plunged into darkness, the two mares stopped entirely.

"Woah!" Lyra exclaimed, so abruptly had the light been snuffed out.

The mares reflexively looked up, up at the starry sky overhead. It was difficult to make out, the stars providing such meager illumination, but the two were still able to see what looked like the outline of a big, fat, fluffy cloud that had, presumably, just floated over their heads, completely obscuring the moon. If they had taken the time to consider it, they might have wondered where such a cloud had come from on such a clear night as that one, but the two had more pressing matters to think about at that moment.

"Darn it!" muttered Bon Bon. "Can you see anything?"

"Um...not really," said Lyra, holding out her hands before her like a blind mare as she tentatively stepped forward.

"Careful!" said Bon Bon. "Don't trip!"

Bon Bon could barely make out the shadowy form of her marefriend standing beside her, but she could hear her cautious footsteps well enough. She had similar difficulty making out the trees and the bushes around them, those dark, shapeless forms appearing much more dreadful than they had a moment earlier. She gulped, and felt a shiver run up her spine as her earlier fears quickly returned to her.

"Wait!" said Bon Bon, taking a tentative step forward. "Don't leave me!"

Lyra smirked at the notion, the darkness obscuring her grin. "Relax, babe," she said. "I'm not gonna—"

Lyra suddenly fell silent as she felt a hand reach out and grab a hold of one of her soft, round ass cheeks, giving it a salacious squeeze. She quivered reflexively at the touch, but her surprise quickly gave way to playful delight, and a naughty grin stretched across her face.

"Oh...babe," said Lyra, chuckling softly. "I guess somepony changed their mind about the afterparty, didn't they?"

"What?" said Bon Bon. "What do you mean?"

Lyra chuckled at her marefriend's coyness. "Oh, Bonny," she said. "You know you don't have to be shy with me." As she said this, she gave her ass a playful wiggle, encouraging her marefriend to help herself to her body. The hand on her ass eagerly responded, sinking its fingers deep into Lyra's plush assflesh.

"Lyra," said Bon Bon, "what in Equestria are you—?"

Bon Bon's words were cut off by a startled gasp as she suddenly felt a hand seize one of her great, jiggling ass cheeks, shamelessly groping her doughy dumptruck. When she realized what was happening, the shock on Bon Bon's face was quickly replaced by profound annoyance.

"Lyra," said Bon Bon flatly, "I told you I'm not in the mood."

"Huh?" said Lyra, confused by her marefriend's mixed signals. "Well, why are you playing with my butt then?"

"Me?" said Bon Bon. "Why are you playing with my butt?"

A moment of silence passed.

"Lyra...turn on your light," said Bon Bon.

Suddenly remembering the presence of the horn atop her head, Lyra summoned her unicorn magic, channeling it through that arcane appendage as easily as one might snap their fingers. The thick gloom surrounding the mares was suddenly pushed back as Lyra's horn lit up, glowing with a soft, ethereal light as bright as a warm, friendly candle. The light was not particularly strong, but it was enough to let the two marefriends see each other...and for each to see the other's hands hanging at their sides. The light also allowed them to see the two hands still groping their asses, and to follow the arms attached to those hands up to the figure floating in midair right behind them.

"Boo!" said the Ponyville Prowler.

Lyra's and Bon Bon's brains seemed to skip, like a record on a turntable. One instant, they were standing there, frozen in horror, staring wide-eyed into the grinning face before them. The very next instant, the two were sprinting down the path, squealing and screaming in terror. Lyra was in front, running as fast as her fashionable, albeit impractical shoes would allow, pulling Bon Bon along by her wrist as the two attempted to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the one behind them. They didn't dare look back, but the two could hear the sound of a villainous chuckle through their wailing, which never seemed to get any further away, no matter how fast they ran.

Time seemed to crawl to a standstill. The frenzied marefriends felt as if they were trapped in some nightmare, running at top speed to escape some threat, and yet not moving an inch. In reality, they were moving quite rapidly, and had soon escaped from beneath the shadow of the cloud overhead into the relative brightness of the moonlight. Of course, being able to see the one sailing through the air behind them, easily keeping pace with them, did little to help their emotional state.

Suddenly, the fleeing mares saw a blur of movement, and realized an instant later that the Prowler was no longer behind them, but in front, hovering in place a short distance away. Lyra and Bon Bon squealed together, and they stopped short, struggling to redirect their significant momentum. The mares managed to stop before colliding with the Prowler, but before they could turn and bolt back the way they came, the Prowler casually reached out and pulled down both of their dresses, revealing two pairs of big, bouncy breasts topped by delectable little nipples. Their sudden exposure barely registered in the mares' minds, however, as they were already running back down the path, their jugs jostling two and fro as they went.

This perverted game of cat-and-mouse continued for the next minute or two, although in Lyra's and Bon Bon's frantic minds, it went on for hours. The mares continued to run their little hearts out in a vain attempt to escape their pursuer, releasing a steady stream of screams, wails, cries, and incoherent babbling all the while. The Prowler, as far as they could tell, seemed to be everywhere at once, appearing out of thin air above them, before them, behind them, and to either side, always one step ahead of them. The Prowler herded the two mares to and fro through the park in this fashion, scaring them off in one direction or another, grinning and laughing all the while.

The Prowler did more than just hover menacingly over them, however. Every few seconds or so, that vile villain would swoop in towards the poor marefriends and lay their lecherous hands upon the mares' soft, vulnerable bodies. Both Lyra and Bon Bon felt the Prowler's fingers upon their ample busts more times than they could count, squishing and squeezing their tantalizing titmeat and pinching their sensitive nipples. The bottoms of their dresses were pulled up, leaving both of their delightful derrieres open to the Prowler's many spanks and pinches. Their long, beautiful tails were playfully tugged. Their heads were grabbed and their lips forced into invasive kisses with their assailant. The Prowler molested them shamelessly and brazenly, taking whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, and yet would invariably let them go again, giving the panicked marefriends the illusion that they could actually escape, if only they ran just a little bit faster.

This erotic escapade eventually came to a close while Lyra and Bon Bon were running across a grassy field, spurred on by a pair of swats that had just been delivered to their increasingly sore tushies. A storm of panic, fear, and shame raged in Lyra's mind, but that did not prevent her from seeing her and Bon Bon's home on the edge of the park, far in the distance. A spark of hope flared up in her mind, one that promised safety and security for her and her marefriend, if only they could make it back to their home. Acting purely on instinct, Lyra suddenly veered to the side, making for home, still dragging Bon Bon along with her. The sudden course correction proved too much for Lyra's exhausted legs and clunky heels, however, and, with a yelp of surprise, the mare stumbled and fell to the ground, landing harmlessly on her back. Lyra had a fraction of a second to process this before Bon Bon, whom she had inadvertently dragged down with her, fell on top of her, the mare's mammoth mammaries coming to rest upon Lyra's face, easily engulfing her head.

Lyra and Bon Bon lay like that for a few moments. Both mares' heads were still buzzing with fear, and their veins still full of adrenline, urging them to flee, and yet they could not do so. The poor mares had run themselves ragged trying to escape the Prowler, and now found themselves simply too exhausted to haul themselves up off of the ground. Their legs were jelly, their lungs were burning, and their little hearts felt as if they were about to burst from their chests. The mares panted like dogs on a hot summer day as they drank in air to cool their aching muscles. More accurately, Bon Bon panted; Lyra was having a bit of difficulty doing so, due to the ocean of soft, warm breastflesh smothering her face, a fact that Lyra quickly communicated through her muffled exclamations of distress. Despite the haze clouding her mind, Bon Bon recognized her marefriend's predicament, and managed to push herself backwards enough for Lyra to poke her head out from between her cleavage and take several heavy gasping breaths of air.

The sound of a soft chuckle reached the mares' ears, followed by the mocking tones of a raspy voice. "Get a room, you two!" the voice said.

The two mares gasped, and Bon Bon saw Lyra look over her shoulder, staring wide-eyed at something behind her. Bon Bon instinctively tried to push herself up off of the ground, but before she could manage to shift her significant weight, she felt a foot being placed upon her back. The foot pressed firmly against her, forcing her back down, and squishing her breasts over Lyra's mouth, leaving only the mare's twitching snoot and her panicked eyes exposed.

"Well...looks like I win!" came the raspy voice.

Still breathing heavily, Bon Bon turned her head and looked back over her shoulder. The Prowler stood over her, a triumphant smile on their lips, and one leg planted on her back, like some kind of conqueror.

"As much as I'd love to give you girls another chance," said the Prowler, raising an arm and glancing at a wristwatch wrapped around it, "I...think it's about time we get going."

Bon Bon had just enough time to realize what was meant by that before the Prowler removed their foot from her back, then reached down and grabbed her arms at the wrists, pulling them back behind her. Bon Bon whimpered in protest and squirmed weakly as the Prowler quickly grabbed her tail and used it to bind her wrists together, but was powerless to prevent her subjugation. With one final tug, the Prowler finished their knot, then reached up and rolled Bon Bon off of Lyra and onto her back beside her.

Lyra gasped in air as her mouth was once again uncovered, but she did not have long to recover before the Prowler was on her. Lyra groaned in exhaustion and fear as the Prowler rolled her onto her belly, then proceeded to bind her in the same humiliating fashion as Bon Bon had been.

"No!" said Lyra weakly. "Stop!" She squirmed in resistance, but she did not have enough strength in her weary body to overcome the Prowler's strong grip.

"Don't do this!" said Bon Bon in an equally weary voice. "Just...Just let us go!"

The Prowler finished binding Lyra, then rolled her onto her back, right next to her marefriend.

"Please!" said Lyra.

The word had hardly left Lyra's mouth before the Prowler reached out towards them, and the two marefriends suddenly felt something soft and bulky shoved into their mouths, muffling their pleas. The mares grunted in protest, and then in disgust as the taste of the sweaty gym socks reached their tongues.

"Hey, it was fun hearing you two squeal back there, but...I need you both to be quiet now," the Prowler said casually.

Lyra and Bon Bon did not willingly comply, letting out a stream of muffled, unintelligible exclamations as they wriggled upon the grass. The Prowler stood up again, taking a moment to savor the sight of the two half-naked mares bound and gagged before her. It was as the Prowler ogled Lyra and Bon Bon that they got their first good look at the two pairs of moist panties concealing the marefriends' plump little marehoods. The pair worn by Bon Bon was decorated with alternating stripes of mint green and white, while the pair worn by Lyra was off-white with pink and blue polka dots. The Prowler's smile widened as they recognized the significance of the designs.

"Aww...how cute," the Prowler said, as if they were looking upon a pair of pussies of a different kind.

Lyra and Bon Bon followed the Prowler's gaze down between their legs. Immediately, the two clamped their thighs together to preserve what little remained of their dignity, then looked away, their cheeks reddening in shame.

"Oh, don't be like that, girls," said the Prowler, leaning down and grabbing the mares' chins, forcibly turning their heads back towards them. "After all, the three of us are gonna get to know each other really well tonight."

Lyra and Bon Bon's eyes went wide, and they resumed their frantic wriggling and grunting. The Prowler merely chuckled as they put their strong arms around the mares and, with a grunt of exertion, pulled them up off of the ground. The marefriends gasped in shock as the Prowler unceremoniously threw them over their shoulders, as if they were no more than sacks of potatoes. The Prowler carefully rose to their feet, wobbling a bit under the non-insignificant weight of the two voluptuous mares, but managed to keep their balance. The mares settled into place atop the Prowler's shoulders, their upper halves hanging back behind the Prowler, their legs dangling down in front, securely held by the Prowler's powerful arms, and their asses resting upon the Prowler's shoulders, to either side of their head.

"Ah! There we go!" said the Prowler with satisfaction. "You girls ready?"

Lyra and Bon Bon squirmed wildly, kicking their feet and grunting through their gags. The Prowler merely chuckled at this as they spread the two large, feathered wings that sprouted from their back, pausing a moment for dramatic effect, then sent them both hurtling downwards in a powerful flap. Two muffled screams of terror could be heard as the three ponies rocketed up into the air, screams which quickly faded into the silence of night.

Thirty-seven seconds later, a royal guard casually emerged from a small patch of trees nearby, following a walking path that led across the grassy field before him. A short time later, he passed the spot where Lyra and Bon Bon had lain a minute earlier and, seeing nothing amiss, continued on his way, wondering to himself why he always seemed to get assigned the boring patrol routes.

The rhythmic sound of footsteps filled the Golden Oak Library as Twilight Sparkle paced back and forth across the wooden floor of her study. Her hands were clasped behind her back, her fingers fidgeting and rubbing together as she walked. Her frumpled tail twitched, and her floppy, equine ears flicked back and forth, reflexively searching for whatever threat was causing their owner such anxiety. Her usually immaculate ensemble was slightly disheveled, her wrinkled shirt untucked, and a dried coffee stain upon her sweater vest. Her lovely mane was unkempt, and she sported heavy bags under her eyes. Despite all this, however, the mare had a focused, detemined look upon her face, one which clearly telegraphed the gears turning inside her head.

Every minute or so, Twilight would pause, turning to face one of the walls of the study. That wall featured rows upon rows of bookshelves carved directly into the wood of the tree itself, every one of those shelves filled with books big and small, old and new, read and re-read. Despite this, Twilight did not have books on her mind at that time, a rare occurrence for the little bookworm. Rather, the entirety of Twilight's attention was focused on the large evidence board that had been hung in front of those bookshelves, and on the horrific story laid out upon it.

Dozens of photographs of varying quality, subject, and lewdness had been pinned to the board. There were newspaper clippings from various outlets as well, many of which had had certain key phrases or passages highlighted or circled with marker. Other miscellaneous objects and articles filled in the gaps, such as handwritten notes, medical reports, and complicated scientific charts that would have made the eyes of most ponies glaze over to look upon. Weaving throughout all of this was a tangled web of red string, darting to and fro, up and down, connecting the various pinned articles in ways that made sense only to the obsessive little unicorn that gazed upon them.

After staring at that board for a few moments, her face scrunching slightly in frustrated contemplation, Twilight would grumble softly, then turn away, resuming her walk.

"C'mon, Twilight," Twilight muttered to herself after one of these cycles. "Think!"

It had been almost two weeks since the Ponyville Prowler had descended upon that peaceful little town. Two weeks, and yet, in all that time, Twilight had not gotten much closer to catching the vile pervert who had, time and time again, viciously molested the innocent mares of Ponyville. While the intellectual mare was used to being confronted with challenging puzzles and complicated questions, the issue of the Prowler had proven to be a particularly stressful matter for her, both due to her infuriating lack of success, and to the obscene nature of the events that had transpired.

Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Twilight breathed a heavy sigh and forced herself to concentrate, before going over the facts in her head, vainly hoping that another iteration might reveal some key detail she had missed.

The first victim had been Spoiled Rich, the mare having been cornered, abducted, and then ruthlessly and thoroughly molested one fateful evening, before being unceremoniously deposited upon the steps of city hall the next morning, covered in marecum and degrading body-writing. At the time, Twilight had thought that such humiliating treatment had been personally motivated, perhaps indicative of some significant resentment the Prowler felt towards the snooty, arrogant socialite. As Twilight later realized, however, that was just how the Prowler liked to do things.

A few nights later, local lesbians Lyra and Bon Bon had been attacked as well. They, too, had been ambushed by the Prowler while walking through Ponyville late at night, before being whisked away to a molesting just as intense as the one Spoiled had experienced. The two had been found together on a park bench the next morning, their naked, limp, soiled bodies left in a crude sixty-nine position, with their tattered clothing strewn abound them. Twilight had a photo of them up on her wall, one which the pests from the Ponyville Enquirer had managed to obtain before the mares could be removed from the scene. Twilight still shuddered to look upon them like that, their hair messy and damp, their faces weary and cum-drunk, and their voluptuous bodies scrawled with phrases such as "DIRTY DYKES", "LUSTY LEZZIES", "CARPET MUNCHERS", and other such lewd messages making reference to the mares' sapphic proclivities.

The next victim had been Carrot Top, the farmmare having been snatched from her own farm just outside of Ponyville. The mare had ventured out into her fields one night to investigate what she had thought might have been a raccoon or some other animal trying to steal her carrots, only to find something much more menacing than a mere woodland critter waiting for her. Carrot had been left at her stall in the middle of the town marketplace in an equally bedraggled state as the others, with the notable exception of the three long, thick carrots that had been shoved into her tight little asshole, her sopping-wet marehood, and her cum-slathered mouth, respectively. The shameful scrawl that had marred her beautiful coat had included such provocative messages as "PLOW MY FIELDS", "SEED COLLECTOR", and, dispensing with the euphemisms, "FERTILE".

The repeated mare-molestings had, predictably, incited fear and panic amongst the ponies of Ponyville, so much so that Mayor Mare, just a couple days earlier, had felt the need to make a public statement about the matter. The mayor had spoken at length about the ongoing investigation, assuring her constituents that the royal guard had everything under control, and that the streets were still perfectly safe. In a textbook example of hubris, the mayor had even gone so far as to speak directly to the Prowler, saying that they didn't even need to come and confess, because the guard were looking for them and would find them swiftly. Apparently, the mayor had believed her own words, as she had felt confident enough to walk home from the office alone that night, despite receiving many warnings against doing so. She had been found the next morning, the well-molested mare having been tied to the big flag pole that stood in the center of town. The mayor's gray mane had shown spots of pink where the hair dye had been washed away by a thorough cum-drenching, and her coat had borne such messages as "MAYOR OF SLUTVILLE", "RE-ELECT MAYOR CUMSLUT", and "DEPOSIT BALLOTS HERE", this last one accompanied by an arrow pointing towards the mayor's dripping marehood.

Twilight looked upon these shocking images where they had been pinned on her evidence board, her expression a mixture of disgust and a certain other emotion that she refused to acknowledge. Her body, however, was much more honest about what it was feeling as she pored over those photos, taking in every succulent inch of the mares' violated bodies. The molestings played themselves out in her head, informed by the photos and by the descriptions that she had obtained from the victims. Twilight could practically hear the mares' squeals and moans in her ears, and feel the Prowler's lecherous hand upon her own quivering body. She was woken from her lustful daydream by a shiver that suddenly ran up her spine, and she realized that that imaginary hand was actually her own hand, which had, of its own accord, wandered down between her legs and stroked the moistening lips of her marehood through her clothes. She quickly returned the hand to her side and un-bit her lip, before resuming her contemplation.

As part of her investigation, Twilight had, of course, interviewed each of the Prowler's victims about their experiences. Contrary to her expectations, the molested mares had been quite willing to speak about their traumatic experiences, and had provided Twilight with oddly extensive and detailed descriptions. Twilight had written down every lewd and lurid detail, (for science, of course,) and, after taking the time to thoroughly analyze those details, she had been able to draw some basic conclusions.

The Prowler, it seemed, was remarkably consistent in how they operated. All of the molested mares had been attacked late at night, when they were alone and vulnerable. All of the mares had reported being teased and tormented by the Prowler, verbally and physically, before finally being abducted. All of the mares had been bound, gagged, and then carried off into the air, flown through the sky to some sort of hideaway the Prowler apparently had inside a big cloud. Once there, the Prowler had proceeded to molest the poor mares for hours on end, subjecting them to all manner of humiliating and degrading sexual torments, some of which Twilight had never even heard of. The mares' recollections had been hazy towards the end, with some having passed out entirely, but presumably, the Prowler had eventually returned each freshly fucked mare to the ground, physically unharmed, barring their sore tushies, which the Prowler seemed fond of spanking. While the mares' clothing had almost universally been damaged during the course of their molestings, none of their possessions had been stolen, with the notable exception of the mares' panties, which the Prowler had presumably kept for themselves.

While Twilight had learned more than she really needed to know about the crimes themselves, the perpetrator of them remained shrouded in mystery. She had learned some basic details about the Prowler from their victims, although these had not helped her much in identifying potential suspects. The Prowler was a pegasus mare; that much was plainly obvious. She seemed to be young, and to posses significant physical strength and stamina, enough to easily overpower and molest her victims for extended periods of time. The Prowler's victims had spoken at great length about her lithe, toned body, about her well-defined abs and her tight, muscular butt, and about her small, perky breasts. When that impressive physique had been covered by clothing, it had supposedly been adorned in a simple black sports bra, spandex shorts, and running shoes.

The victims' testimonies had been more divided when it came to certain other details, such as the color of the Prowler's coat, which had been described as something like blue or gray, although Twilight attributed this discrepancy to the darkness of night impeding the victims' vision. More curious, however, were the descriptions of the Prowler's long mane and tail; one of the victims had said they had been red, another green, while another had recalled seeing purple, a discrepancy that Twilight had no good explanation for. As for her face, the Prowler had apparently concealed her identity behind a cliche black bandit mask, which had prevented any of her victims from recognizing her. Her cutie mark had been similarly concealed, the identifying marks on either side of her ass having been hidden beneath strips of tape. Without those clear identifiers to aid her, Twilight had been unable to narrow down the list of potential suspects to a workable level, there being many young, athletic pegasus mares living in Ponyville.

Perhaps more useful than the descriptions of the Prowler's appearance were those of her behavior. Twilight did not claim to be an expert on the psychology of mare-molesters, or of criminals in general, but she had read several books on the subject in the past, and had pored through many more over the past several days, many of which were still piled up around her study. Based on her studies, and on the actions of the Prowler, Twilight had concluded that, whoever they were, the Prowler seemingly enjoyed asserting her dominance over other ponies through her physical and emotional torments. The Prowler loved to "win"; she loved demonstrating how much faster and stronger she was than her victims, and loved savoring and bragging about her conquests, hence the degrading public displays she loved to make of her victims, and the stolen panties that Twilight imagined were probably hanging on the Prowler's trophy wall by that point. The fact that the Prowler had continued to do this, despite clearly knowing that the royal guard were present, suggested extreme cockiness, arrogance even, as if she thought she was completely and utterly untouchable.

Cocky...arrogant...loves to win...loves to show off...

Twilight was deep in thought, tossing these words around in her head, when, on the floor below, the door of the library was opened, and the oaken walls were filled with the sounds of footsteps and of familiar voices. Twilight did not register this, however, not even when, shortly afterwards, those footsteps made their way up the stairs to Twilight's study, and those friendly voices called her name.

"Mornin', Twilight!" said Applejack, her distinctive rural twang as endearing as ever. The mare strode into the study, her thick, muscular legs covered in tight denim and her feet in tall boots, as usual. Her similarly muscled rear flexed with every step she took, and her wide, motherly hips swayed slightly. A worn, buttoned shirt covered her toned tummy and her ample breasts, which were big enough to have fed a whole litter of foals. Her long, straw-yellow mane and tail were tied off, as usual, and her signature hat sat comfortably atop her head. She had a friendly smile upon her orange, freckled face, and carried before her a cup-and-saucer filled with steaming-hot tea.

"Good morning, darling," said Rarity, the refined, melodious tones of her voice as easy on the ears as the rest of her was on the eyes. Her picturesque hourglass figure was adorned in a fashionable yet mysterious ensemble reminiscent of that worn by her favorite fictional detective, complete with a dull red coat that hugged her feminine curves and a wide-brimmed hat that sat atop her coiffed, purple mane. She stepped into the study behind Applejack, her shapely legs covered in nothing but black pantyhose and gorgeous red heels beneath her knee-length skirt. Her long, swirly tail swished in excitement, and she bore a confident grin upon her sculpted, alabaster face.

"Hi, Twilight!" sounded out Pinkie Pie, her bubbly, energetic voice unmistakable. The mare bounded into the study behind Rarity, moving with a characteristic spring in her step that made her plump, pink body jiggle like gelatin. Her thick, curvaceous legs were squeezed into a pair of thigh-high socks decorated with stripes of yellow and blue, and she wore a pair of bubblegum-pink sneakers. The floppy miniskirt wrapped around her wrecking-ball hips was also pink, and stretched down just far enough to conceal the two mountainous ass cheeks she boasted. A tight, white t-shirt bearing the words "PARTY ANIMAL" covered her torso down to her belly button, stretched to its limits by the pair of immense breasts they concealed. Her tail and mane were as pink and poofy as ever, although the latter bore an unusual feature in the form of a plain-looking deerstalker cap that rested atop it, which clashed with the rest of her cheerful getup. Another abnormal feature of her appearance was the bubble-pipe she held between her grinning lips, although the perpetually happy look upon her face suggested that she saw nothing out of place about it.

"Hey," came the weary, raspy croak of the fourth and final mare who entered into the study. Unlike the other mares, her feet, clad in old, worn running shoes and gym socks, hovered slightly above the floor as she floated in, held aloft by the lazy flaps of the feathered wings upon her back. Her lithe, toned body was impressive to behold, or would have been, had the baggy, gray hoodie she wore not concealed her well-defined abs and her small, perky breasts. Still, her runner's shorts emphasized her slender legs and her tight, muscular buns, which sat just beneath her long, rainbow-colored tail. The long mane atop her head was equally colorful, although the face beneath it was not nearly as cheerful to look upon. Her subtle, tomboyish features, while normally quite cute, were marred by clear weariness, with heavy bags under her half-lidded eyes and a grumpy scowl upon her lips. As she made her way to a nearby chair and plopped herself down into it, she raised the cup of strong coffee she carried to those lips and took a sip.

Applejack took a quick glance over her shoulder at the last of her companions, rolling her eyes. "C'mon, Rainbow Dash!" she said. "Drink your coffee and get in gear. Twi's gonna need all of us to be at our best if we're gonna nab this varmint!"

Rainbow Dash gave a grunt of acknowledgment, and took another sip of her coffee.

Applejack approached Twilight, who was once again staring up at her evidence board, seemingly oblivious to the sudden arrival of her friends. "'Nother all-nighter?" she said softly, noticing Twilight's exhausted appearance. Without waiting for a response, Applejack carefully placed the tea saucer into one of Twilight's hands, and wrapped Twilight's other hand around the cup. Twilight reflexively raised the cup to her lips, taking a long, slow draft.

Tea. Earl Grey. Hot.

Twilight's hyper-focused mind reflexively analyzed the drink as it touched her tongue, but as it slipped down her throat, and she felt its soothing warmth fill her up from the inside, melting her concentration, she returned to a more natural mental state. She let out a sigh as she lowered her cup, and closed her tired eyes, giving them a brief respite from the board. "Yeah," she said.

"Twilight," said Rarity in a concerned tone, "you mustn't do that. You're not going to catch the Prowler if you're half-asleep." She stepped up behind Twilight and placed her hands on Twilight's shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Twilight was tempted to retort that she hadn't managed to catch the Prowler even with a full night's sleep, but she held her tongue.

"Yeah! You need your sleep, Twilight!" said Pinkie Pie, bounding up to the others. "You should see me when I don't get a good night's sleep! I'm always so tired and grumpy the next day that I'm no help to anyone!" As she said this, the hyperactive mare bounced in place slightly, making her boobs and her big bubble-butt wobble enticingly.

"We'll...take your word for it," said Rarity with a smile, having difficulty recalling a time she had seen the bubbly mare either tired or grumpy.

Applejack chuckled. "Yeah, Twilight," she said, "you don't want to end up like ol' lazy-feathers over there!" As she said this, she inclined her head towards where Rainbow Dash sat.

"Hey!" exclaimed Rainbow Dash annoyedly.

"I know, I know," said Applejack, waving her hand dismissively. "Wonderbolts training." She looked back to Twilight. "In any case, we're all here now, so you don't gotta tackle this alone."

"Indeed," said Rarity, stepping back and striking a pose. "Once again, the fabulous Shadow Spade is at your service, ready and willing to help you apprehend this wrongdoer."

"And so is Detective Pinkie Pie!" said Pinkie Pie, taking hold of her pipe and blowing a few bubbles for emphasis.

"Spike says he'll have your breakfast ready in two shakes," said Applejack, "so until then, why don't you tell us what the plan is for today?"

Twilight took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. She opened her eyes, then turned and looked upon her friends. The sight of those familiar faces before her, full of energy and determination (for the most part), almost brought a smile to her lips...almost.

Twilight loved her friends more than anything else in the world, and she was incredibly grateful to have them by her side during that trying time. That being said, her friends' support, while enthusiastic, had not proven particularly...helpful. Those mares had helped Twilight face down magical, world-conquering villains time and time again, their incredible bravery and devotion earning them their heroic statuses many times over, but when it came to something as relatively mundane as investigating a mare-molesting...well...frankly...they sucked.

Applejack had spent the past several days kicking down doors, yelling at potential suspects, and generally acting like some loose-cannon cop straight out of a movie, behavior which was not nearly as productive in real life as it was on the silver screen. Despite sporting the clothing of Shadow Spade, Rarity had not inherited the fictional crime-stopper's investigative prowess, largely due to her area of expertise not being particularly useful in investigating crimes that involved a distinct lack of clothing. Fluttershy had been holed up in her cottage since day one, too afraid of the Prowler to step foot outside, and the others had not tried to rope her into the investigation, wanting to spare the delicate mare from the obscene, perverse events it concerned. Rainbow Dash, having been recently accepted into the Wonderbolt Academy, had been kept quite busy with her training, leaving her too exhausted to help much even on her free days. And then there was Pinkie Pie who...was Pinkie Pie.

Twilight's gaze fell to the floor, and she took another sip of her tea as her friends patiently awaited her response. In truth, Twilight didn't know what they were going to do that day, and she was loathe to admit it. She had been so confident and focused when the investigation had begun, and had easily been able to come up with plan after plan to catch the Prowler, but as the days had gone by, and each and every one of those plans had failed, one by one, both her confidence and her focus had suffered.

Twilight took a quick glance around the room, looking upon the remains of all of the many plans and schemes she and her friends had worked through. Charts and checklists were pinned to the walls in various places, those that had not been crumpled up and tossed into the overflowing wastepaper basket, that is. Small towers of recently consulted books rose from the floor around her, the subjects of those tomes ranging from criminology to cooking and everything in between. There was even a map of Ponyville which showed the meticulously organized patrol schedule she had devised for the royal guard, one which specified to the minute where each guard would be, and one which would not have left an inch of Ponyville unseen for more than a few minutes at a time. All of that planning had been in vain, however, as not a single plan had allowed them to figure out the Prowler's identity, or even to catch them in the act, something that should have been trivial, given the very public nature of the crimes being committed. No matter what the investigators tried, however, the Prowler always seemed to be one step ahead of them, as if she knew their plans before they could even put them into effect.

Twilight sighed again, forcing herself to focus. It would do her no good to give in to despair and panic; she had had more than enough characteristic freak-outs over the past several days as it was. Still, the rising tension of the situation weighed heavily on her mind, and she knew that she had reached a critical point. Ponyville had become a powder keg, its citizens so tense and paranoid that she feared another incident might cause them to explode, perhaps forming an angry mob to punish whoever they suspected of being the Prowler, or those who had failed to protect them from her. The guards were well aware of this, and while they had not said it openly, Twilight knew that they were questioning her ability to lead them. Twilight imagined that Princess Celestia, too, was growing uneasy. She had tried to present her lack of progress in as flattering a manner as possible in the status updates she had been sending to the princess, but she knew the princess was capable of reading between the lines. While Twilight had heard nothing back from her, neither admonishment nor anger, that silence was terrible in its own way, and Twilight couldn't help but fear what was going through her beloved teacher's mind as she witnessed her favorite student's repeated failures.

Twilight looked back to her friends, taking their confident expressions as motivation. She knew then what she had to do. It was the only thing she could do, the only thing that would be certain to put her face-to-face with the one she sought. In the well-organized file cabinet that was her mind, she opened up the drawer all the way, and reached for the very last file it contained. Twilight's backup-backup-backup-backup-backup-backup-backup-backup-backup-backup plan was one she had considered early on in the investigation, but had refused to go through with, knowing how dangerous it would be for the one who would have to carry it out. She was out of options, however, and knew that she had no other choice but to put the plan into action.

"I do have a plan," said Twilight, stepping over to a nearby table and setting down her tea upon it. "It's not an ideal plan, but...it's all I have left."

"Well...let's hear it then!" said Applejack, trying to maintain an upbeat attitude, despite sensing her friend's concerns. "I reckon it'll be a darn good one, if you've been holdin' onto it for this long...a regular ace up your sleeve!"

"Alright," said Twilight, her voice growing sharp and determined as she shifted into planning mode. "Pay attention everypony, because I'm going to need all of your help...especially yours, Rarity."

Rarity was momentarily taken aback at being singled out so. "Well...of course, Twilight," she said. "I'll gladly assist however I can, but...what exactly is it that you plan to do?"

A small grin snuck its way onto Twilight's lips, and a devious gleam filled her eyes. "It's not what I'm going to do," she said, taking up her quill and parchment, "it's what Ersatz Quarry is going to do."

A confused look appeared on Pinkie Pie's face. She knew pretty much every pony in Ponyville, and she had never heard of any "Ersatz Quarry" before. "Umm...who's Ersatz Quarry?" she asked.

Twilight managed a soft chuckle, understanding Pinkie's confusion. "You'll see," she said cryptically, before proceeding to outline her plan.