You are a certain alabaster unicorn seamstress.
And you are on a tight schedule, sewing the dress practically on your unusually tall and chitinous client.
Well, chitinous part isn't that unusual for you, really. Changelings are banned from transforming outside of their work duties, so accessorizing became a huge hit practically overnight.
Obviously, you were the first the meet this sudden demand. Only a seamstress of your caliber could meet this onslaught of unique accessory orders and take it in stride.
A lifetime of fashion taught you to stay on top of every fad and trend. Big cities live fast, after all.

"A-ha!"

With that you expertly finish another stitch in record time, if you do say so yourself.

"Oh darling, you're in luck! As much trust I put in Sassy, I wouldn't rely on her to complete such an order on such a short notice. Who's the lucky colt?"

Your client dreamily lids her eyes.

"Oh, he's everything I could dream of. Tall, shapely and exotic..."

She cracks her eyes open just a bit, then leans in and whispers in conspirational tone.

"And he for sure knows his way around the rope..."

"Ohohoho, oh my!~"

What a lucky mare indeed. Another stitch done.

"I do so envy you, darling. He sounds like a prime catch."

Her toothy yet warm grin grows ever wider.

"It DOES feel like a dream..."

Scissors fly all about your client, snipping anything out of place. You give the dress last once-over.

"That's all, darling! Best of luck with your date!"

Without missing a beat, the tall changeling mare all but throws a hefty bag of bits on the counter before rushing out.
You click your tongue.
A colt, ready to indulge in some of your ropey fantasies? Not far from a dream, indeed.
Talking about ropes, there was this absolutely SCANDALOUS VOD you've been coming back to...
With no new orders on the horizon, a lady might as well treat herself to some entertainment...

You are yellow, feathered Alpha of timid disposition.
That probably means you're Fluttershy.
Sitting at the table, sulking in the early morning light filtering through restaurant's windows.
And concentrating on keeping your mouth extra shut.
You're not exactly... peeved, but rather moderately upset about handling this whole situation.
Yesterday, with but a few poorly-worded phrases you had Anon believing that the bug intruder was your herdmate candidate.
He then apologized profusely to Chrysalis for starting their meeting off the wrong foot and going full 'pulp fiction' on her, whatever that meant.
You could have ended this silly misunderstanding then and there, but...
First of all, much to your shock, Anon commended the speed and boldness of your 'decision' as an Alpha of the herd.
Second of all, was puppy-eyed Chrysalis clasping her hooves together in a pleading gesture out of Anon's sight.
Royal Sisters gave her a chance, after all, and she's yet to disappoint them.

Yet.

Ah, who are you kidding? It was your passive indecisiveness again.
If it wasn't for Anon here you'd facehoof a muzzle off your face. Twice over and then some.
Ah!
Anon's hand gently strokes your back, and he gives you a soft, encouraging smile!
Fluttershy, what have you gotten yourself into?
You take a deep breath, and then another to calm yourself down.
Your eyes find a fancy clock to take your mind off your inner turmoil.
The seconds arm could be as well glued to the clock face.
Serves you right for expecting Anon to spend ages getting ready for your outing.
Somehow he managed to be done even faster than you, and he had a three-piece suit to put on!

Speaking of Anon and his wardrobe, the whole farmer get-up had you extremely confused yesterday.
But, turns out it helps him to get into the role!
You'd never expect something like that coming into play when working as a voice actor, but you can't argue with the results: he really nailed that lovable country bumpkin colt who-needs-a-guiding-hoof-in-his-life type of character!
He even recited some lines to you.
The particular line where he held up and closely inspected lettuce only to pronounce that "th' ahpples sure came out weird this season" had you in stitches.
Whoever hired him better pay well for that level of performance, otherwise you're going to stomp over to the castle, right into their little dingy office and give them a piece of your mind!

Not that you can't support your colt...

You are Chrysalis, barreling down streets of Canterlot.
What's the plan? Come on, brain, plans, you're great at those!
Oh, right.
Part one: Get yourself presentable and pronto. Check.
Part two: Secure yourself a coltfriend. You are currently here.
Some blue unicorn dashes from your path and mutters some posh curses, barely escaping your gallop.
Now here comes the question: how exactly do you do that second part?
Dang it, you'll figure it out as you go, finding that dang restaurant is more important right now!

You are Fluttershy again.
There's a huge pit forming in your stomach despite every effort Anon takes.
Inhale.
Hold.
Exhale.
Repeat.
Whatever you do, do not hide behind your mane!
This whole situation is more than ridiculous, and every part of it requires careful scrutiny.
Especially the central, chitinous part.
And scrutiny she will face, for it is your duty as the Alpha to make sure all your herdmates are compatible.
A-at least, the book said so...
Maybe it'll all blow over and she won't show up?
The second this treacherous thought crosses your mind, a familiar tall figure shows itself.
Anon turns to trace your gaze.

It's HER.
Her dress is in soothing shades of white and green. It's flowing and just... works for her.
Your own formal dress can't even hope to hold the candle to this. Horseapples.
But her garments at least mean she's serious about this entire thing. Good.
Hold up.
You're finally starting to think like an Alpha. You take a moment to cheer internally.
With a pomf, Chrysalis crashes down on her pillow seat.
How... unrefined!
Noticing your ice-cold stare, she clears her throat and greets you and Anon.
Chilling effects of your glare are immediately mitigated by none other than Anon, whose warm smile and greeting followed by a compliment addressed to her dress have her smiling coquettishly.
It pains you that you have essentially brought this on yourself.
Meanwhile the opportunity shows itself: once the orders were made, Anon has excused himself to wash his hands.
Waiting for him to turn the corner, you turn to Chrysalis.

"Don't you have a literal swarm of kids to take care of?"

"Bwah?!"

You expected a flash of anger, not a confused, wide-eyed sputter. Once she recovers from her surprise, she answers, seemingly picking her words carefully.

"That's not true at all! I mean, my subjects see me as a mother figure, but had I been busy carrying all these eggs I wouldn't get anything done, ever!"

You just raise one eyebrow skeptically.
Hive, queen, drones, all of this pointed to Chrysalis siring entire broods.

"I do attend the hatching day, but my subjects are perfectly capable of starting their own families and having offspring without any of my help!"

"Wait, does that mean that you've never..."

Chrysalis bites her lip, clearly regretting that slip-up.

"I have seduced some colts in disguise for their love in the past..."

She deflates.

"But not in my true form, no."

All of a sudden, Chrysalis narrows her eyes and moves on the offensive.

"You know, for a herd, tension between you two is so dense that you can almost cut it with a knife. Did you two even do it?"

Oh horseapples, she's got you there.
Any of the Alpha-worthy retorts you might have had at the moment are thrown to the wind.
The panic almost overtakes you, but none other than Anon speaks up. How'd he sneak up on you both like that?

"You even ask? She's a complete animal in bed! And she's blushing sooooo cutely the morning after."

He sits down beside you and pulls you close for an affectionate kiss on a noggin.
Meanwhile Chrysalis' eyes jump from you to Anon and back, as if trying to imagine the scene.
Looks like Anon's got your back!
He'd be a perfect wingmare to go colt-swoopin'!
Wait a minute...

You are Bug-butt.
And you are struggling to come up with the plan that you so recently promised yourself.
Anon's not your subject nor are you trying to seduce him in disguise.
You realize you have precisely zero idea how to act around this stallion.
Come on, Chrysalis, aren't you supposed to be THE Seduction Expert?

"Chrysalis, can you tell us more about yourself?"

Anon's question comes out of blue as much as you realize that you should've expected it.
You put your hoof to your chin in thought.

"Hmm, where do I even begin?"

Next fifteen minutes you spend explaining changelings in broad strokes.
Much to your surprise, Anon actually seems into it, clarifying various details with what you sense to be a completely genuine interest.

"Usually we feed on love in its natural form, but with the recent developments food rich in condensed love started being made to accommodate my kind's needs."

"So, what do you think, Anon?"

You have almost forgotten about that yellow pegasus.
He hums while he's cleans his fingers with napkins.
Oh goodness, he's holding her hoof now. Bracing for impact, bracing for impact!

"Good choice, Fluttershy! Maybe an exotic addition to our herd, but I'm no ordinary stallion, either!"

His lovely gentle laughter rings out.
An unusually warm elation washes over you.
Maybe it'll all work out and you'll join this herd. Is this what they call hope?
Normally you'd be deathly insulted by mere implication of having to share, but ever since you took Sisters' thrice-damned deal, you have come to accept that sometimes concessions have to be made.
At least now every 'ling is safe, well-fed and reasonably accepted among the ponykind.
And looks like this whole 'stop being evul' thing is finally starting to pay off.

"Besides, she looks adorable"

Adorable?
Did he say 'adorable'?
Your warm elation grows yet warmer.
Alpha's voice brings you back to earth.

"Anon, dear, can you pick proper desserts for all of us?"

Insidious! A stallion picking their dessert? That won't be quick, with all the fussing over calorie intake and which flavor is currently in vogue.
As soon as exotic husband-to-be is out of earshot she leans over you jabs accusatory hoof.

"I don't know what he sees in you"

"I-I can support this herd!.."

"With your subjects' bits? Tsk, that's *low*, Chrysalis!"

Ouch.

"But-"

"If you hurt Anon's feelings, so help me!"

She leans on her end of the table so hard it creaks in submission.
You blink in surprise. You didn't realize just how commanding of a presence this mare got.
It's plain scary.
And hot.
The stern look on pegasus' face softens a little.

"But the princesses saw fit to give you a second chance, so you have that going for you..."

Chrysalis, you got this.
As long as you don't buck this up.
Anon's appearance dissipates the figurative clouds above your table.
He's smiling at you specifically, precariously balancing a tray full of sugary treats.

"I didn't know which ones are love-infused so I grabbed one of each!"

You are Yellow Quiet, once again.
Chrysalis levitates trays with desserts to your table gracefully.
Her smile all but says it,

"Nice to have a magic user in a herd, isn't it?"

That would be nice, yes.
But she doesn't need to know about it.
You deflate a bit. Anon seems to have made up his mind, and Chrysalis has been on her best behavior so far.
Just look at them discussing cuisine shenanigans like old pals!
You scrunch.
The consensus is pretty much reached, you just need to come to terms with it.

Having split the bill equally, you're met with a fresh morning breeze outside.
Anonymous gives you a smile and addresses Chrysalis in his usual chipper attitude.

"Uh, so, I guess that makes it official. Welcome to our little herd!"

You interject,

"For a tryout period!"

"Yes, the compatibility is important."

He gives you another smile, even warmer this time.

"Good job, Fluttershy!"

Followed with a playful wink.

"Now, if you excuse me, I gotta go change, got a busy workday ahead of me. See you gals later."

"Sure, Anon, we've got a few things to discuss with Chrysalis..."

Waving goodbye, he turns about and strides vaguely in the direction of the apartments building.

"He has no idea, does he?"

"Not a clue."

Chrysalis turns to you in a surprise.

"Wait, you let your colt work?"

"Against my better judgment. Besides, he's no ordinary colt."

She can offer no recourse. Especially not when both of you have your eyes glued to his bouncing posterior.
Only after the eye-level eye-candy disappears around the corner you shake free from the spell.

"So, what's the deal with that cabbage?"

Color drains from Chrysalis' face

You are Anon, power-walking back home and dodging yawning mares.
Things seem to be looking up, and yet...
Your thoughts return to your recent foray into herd management simulator.
With Miss Shivering Banana being in charge she won't have any time to do actual cooking, and Chryssy didn't strike you as the enthusiast chef.
Heh, Chryssy.
Ahem.
Looks like you'll have to pick up the cooking at some point.
No matter how disastrous it can be...
With a melodic click, your apartment door is unlocked.
Focus. You have a whole team to shape into winners, and Luna doesn't seem to be making your job any easier.
Fresh memory of her hot breath on your ear and neck sends shivers down your spine.
It was a direct order, wasn't it?
You pick up the thrice-damned garments and throw 'em in the bag.
Well, you've asked for this, Princess, this one is on you.

Right on time, you throw the doors to your team's lounge open.
Commencing the operation "High-Impact Socksual Violence".
The noise brings eyes of all your charges directly to your usual streaming garments.
*FOOMP!*
A row of wingboners.
Non-pegasi would be more subtle had they not been growing progressively redder by the second.
Without saying a word, you approach.
Menacingly.
Once in front of them, you lean over offending mares with an expression of a DI about to rain hell and fury.
Their wings quiver a little as they grow even more stiff.
Fear fills their features as it becomes abundantly clear they can't fold the damn things.
Mare musk wafts fore and hits your nostrils like a baseball bat.
You bend your riding crop almost to the point of breaking.

"Out in the garden."
"And bring me the hose."

Once the horny was properly hosed down and mares were equally properly dried off, you are back in business.
God knows some of those mares could use a wash.
Some of them became quite a few shades brighter!
Now to introduce them to a new technique, where was that computer lab room?

You are tall, imposing and hole-ridden.
That must mean that you're none other than Chrysalis.
And you are pacing around your Royal quarters nervously.
Looking at the queen-shaped buggonnequin adorned in your dress, the only confirmation that these things actually happened.

Despite going over the recent events over and over and over, you have precisely zero idea what is going on.
You crash onto your Royal Couch.
No, seriously, what the BUCK was any of that?
Finally, the first generation of lings that have never known the pangs of hunger grows up, and you've almost ended up throwing that away.
You've just lost it and went horsebando-hunting!
There's no other way of putting it. You were thinking with your clit.
Yet somehow...
Somehow that did not result in a diplomatic incident like it absolutely should have.
You roll over on your luxurious couch and begin massaging your poor head as you feel all the signs of the onsetting headache.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
Instead of ravishing a colt you got your croup kicked.
Then, instead of getting your croup kicked for trying to ravish a colt you got invited to a herd.
There was some kinky ropework and terrifying veggies somewhere in there, but you seem to be blocking out that particular memory.
How did *any of that* happen?
Whatever, you're definitely not gonna look the gift horsebando in the mouth.

You are Anon, maneuvering through the sheer disarray in the castle.
Whatever is planned for today, you do not know, but the corridors are sure tuna-packed with crates, planks, precarious towers of paint buckets and other building supplies, not to mention ponies.
Did they decide to do ALL THE renovations at once all of a sudden?
Mentally you cross another corridor off your map of the castle.
Argh fuck. Looks like the only way lies through the day court room.
Just keep a complete poker face.

Thou art Princess Luna.
Celestia's been acting all busy lately, not even stealing a single glance towards the new colt.
You know better than to take her up at the face value. She's playing the long game.
Let's see how she'll keep her cool with the stakes raised...
Dodging your sister's Cake Column, you plop your royal behind on the throne.

"Casual"

"Tryhard"

Having finished your daily exchange of pleasantries, you both go quiet, concentrated on your respective screens.
Let's see if you still have your scheming game to rival Celestia...
Both of your ears pick up and turn to the doors swinging open.
That's right, and right on time, too!
Marching in striped thigh-highs, tight undergarments and a similarly tight-fitting shirt, is none other than your Anonymous.
Sportsmares entrusted to him proceed orderly in front of the human, perhaps trying too hard to not look back.
Every single other pair of eyes in the enormous room is brought to the silent procession.
At least one royal guard falls muzzle first on the floor, but you're too busy observing your sister.
She's got her eyes on the energetic colt strutting through the hall like he owns the place.
Every step's movement visibly jolts back and forth through the leg muscles, giving his exposed flanks a sensible ripple with every rise and fall.
Celestia's face did not betray a single emotion, however the piece of cake she held in magic missed her mouth completely and stained her tuft.
How delightfully embarrassing!
She sputters at your giggle and gives you a mean stare which you meet with a smug smile.
Nay, no reason to feign innocence when you have won this round.

You are Anon, having finally navigated through the maze the castle is today.
Once your charges are seated comfortably and all face you, you pick up a piece of chalk and stand in front of the blackboard.

"Today, you will learn probably the single most important part about any fast-paced First Person Spellslinger."

You give them a dramatic pause.

"Movement."

There is more than one raised pair of eyebrows.

"I will teach you to move fast, hit hard, and be gone before anyone realizes what happened."

You are a purple unicorn with a penchant for magic and anxiety, and your nerd-sense is tingling.
Somepony on the castle grounds is about to launch into a genuine nerdy rant.
The feeling rolls down your spine in a warm wave. Your breath hitches for a second.
Actually scratch that, you're sensing a full-blown nerd-out incoming.
With a wink, your body announces its much-neglected... needs.
Thank Celestia, there's a storage room with a sturdy door nearby!

You are Anon, addressing your small but captive audience.

"So what is airstrafe and why does it work?"
"We gotta start with basics. How player's desired velocity is calculated."

You draw a square, then draw two lines to split it into four smaller squares.
Then you put little drawings of direction movement keys onto each cardinal direction of graph.

"So, most games calculate desirable player velocity by summing desirable side velocity - that is, strafing left or right, and forward velocity, that is going forwards and backwards. Simple enough, right?"

Mares all nod in unison.
You connect big square's corners with diagonal lines and put down ones near each side of smaller squares.

"If each side is 1, how long is this diagonal?"
You make small adjustment denoting the right angle and observe the team.

Born2Win holds her hooves to her temples in sheer disbelief and despair. Was she a school drop-out or something?
Bl4zeOfGlory bears her typical impenetrable expression. Other mares seem just out of it.

"Square root o' two, I reckon."

What do you know, it's the Grandma_Punch who can operate basic math!

"Correct! And it's roughly equal to one-point-four-something. Why is this important?"

You nod towards the graph.

"The perpendicular velocities are summed up but often aren't clamped - this is why in some old games you're moving faster by moving diagonally! About 40% speedup!"

Gram gram nods enthusiastically - she probably remembers those times.

"Newer games clamp that."

You illustrate point by drawing a unit circle into your square and drawing a new vector that is confined to the circle.

"And that would be it... BUT! There exists a tiny oversight..."

You smile at the incoming nerd-out.

You are a certain violet nerdy magic horse.
You've been... tending to your needs for the last... however long you were in this closet.
There's one unfortunate fact, though: the magic will only get you so far.
As if on cue, your magic glow fizzles out as more and more blood is rerouted from the horn to your nether regions.
Nature cares not for your pouting, and you're left with naught but your hooves to finish what has been started.
A new ripple in the nerdiness-field sends pleasant tingles from the tip of your horn to the tip of your tail and practically magnetizes your hoof to your nethers.
Guess the research will have to wait a bit.

You are Anon again, observing six mares who still look moderately disturbed at the prospect of facing MATH in gaming.
You tap the board at the unit-circle.

"Technically, the player can use more than just eight directions to maneuver by using a controller"

With a few more swings of chalk, additional lines, arrows and letters appear on the blackboard.

"So to properly handle the movement in the direction of player's desired, uh, velocity, the game has to actually do some basic vector math."

You draw arrows, formulas, and even some excerpts from the code graciously provided by the local computer lab assistant, adorable little mare with glasses sporting lenses as thick as your thumb.
You enthusiastically explain every part of the illustration, going into detail with gusto, before moving to the next piece of the puzzle you currently present and repeating the process until it all becomes a complete picture.
Finishing up with the chalk, you step back and nod to yourself. You managed to fit the crux of the issue in a very succinct form.

Turning around, however, reveals that, well...
To say that your charges were not enthused would be an understatement.
There are mostly blank stares, but Born still holds her head and looks like she's about to start hyperventilating.

You knit your brow.
Perhaps you weren't thorough enough?

Trying to explain the intricacies of vector math and how air-strafe and wall-run work under the hood, however, causes poor mares to attain thousand-yard-stares. You could swear that you heard HiSCORE praying to Celestia about some sort of penance.
The only one holding on is Grandma_Punch, surprisingly enough.

Should you simplify it further?

You turn back to blackboard and try to explain again, this time in very simple terms, but as soon as you turn back to face the mares, their eyes instantly start glazing over.
Hold on. Is this the effect that math has on a gamer mare brain or do they stare at your tightly-packed ass every time you turn to the blackboard?
Probably both.
Whatever, you're not objecting, as long as they kick asses at the tournament in return.
Grandma still tried to stay sharp, catching your every word. Respectable.
Finally, you wipe your cryptic drawings off the blackboard.

"But this is all for nerds."

Ditching the chalk you spin around and with a pep in your step you march over to the nearest battle station, inviting mares to follow.

"What you all want and need is the practical usage of this!"

Now THAT got their attention.
You demonstrate how diagonal movement doesn't give any advantage in Thaumic Tournament.
Next is wall-run, which works, according to the player velocity readout, which prompts some cheering from the mares.
You move to airstrafing. They've already seen you bunnyhopping, so you decide to spice things up for them...
It takes a few seconds before the realization hits the sportsmares.

"No way!"

"He's... He's DOING IT SIDEWAYS!"

Making another pirouette around a particularly titanic bookshelf column, your character comes to a halt. You turn back to your team.

"This is why I wanted you all to know the theory behind this trick. It doesn't matter which cardinal direction you use - they're all sides of the same square!"

You clap your hands.

"Soo... Now you know why they say that knowledge is power. Why don't you gals try your newfound knowledge-slash-power out?"

Their eagerness in manning (horsing?) the battlestations makes you a tiny bit proud. Maybe all of this wasn't a huge mistake.

You are a purple unicorn with a distinct proclivity for books.
Soft purple glow envelops your hooves. It feels a bit tingly but on the upside, the filthy evidence of your past actions disappears with the faint fizzling.
Few seconds later you've slipped out of the closet in the most inconspicuous manner possible.
Being so attuned to intellectual matters leaves you vulnerable to ripples in the nerd-o-sphere.
You're not entirely comfortable with being aroused by these things because, well, as some online mares would put it, 'zigga das dyke asb'.
But you like to think that it was a cute geeky stallion going on a cute little rant.
If only...

"Y-Ow!"

Moondancer jumps back and holds her hooves to her muzzle, and you find yourself mirroring her motion as the pain from head-on nasal impact shoots through your skull like lightning!
You try to blink the stars out of your eyes furiously, but you're observant enough of your partner in scientific crimes.
She immediately parts one hoof from her nose with a certain degree of disgust.
Seeing your puzzled look causes small blush to appear on her cheeks.
Did she?
Oh no she didn't!

"Did you?.."

Your eyes jump from her hoof to her snootle.
Moondancer all but crumbles under your inquisitive look all the while trying to sneakily wipe offending hoof on the stone floor.
Oh no, she TOTALLY DID!

You are Winner Podium, or as you're known among your team, Born2Win, and, mare, are you bad at this.
Why can't you be like total_Ctrl, who hit the ground running and is currently garnering praise from Mr. Unnamed?
You look to your other side.
Spitfire is so into it, she's stuck out her tongue to the side and leans with her player character while being inches from her monitor.

"Having trouble, Born?"

You nearly dang jump out of your skin! How did he manage to sneak up on you?!
Sir Unnamed looks into the monitor intently as you try to show him your feeble attempts at bunnyhopping.

Your character makes a few jumps and clumsily grinds to a halt, jumping in place like a loon.
It's been like this for the past hour. You didn't improve by even an iota!
You sniffle in embarrassment, trying to force growing tears back down your tear-ducts.
Real mares don't cry, especially when they mess up.
Don't cry.
Don't cry, dammit! That'll only embarrass you further.

Sir Unknown's hand snaps you out your reverie, its gentle touch traveling down your spine.
You meet his eyes, and... he's concerned.
Not mad. Not disappointed.
Concerned.
His expression morphs into a small reassuring smile.

"Let's try this again, shall we?"

He places his exotic graspers over your forehooves, performing the movement by shifting and tilting them.
You watch as your character practically flies through the level.
With every swing, with every successive jump stallion's control becomes weaker, inviting you to take over.

"You can do this."

His sweet voice does wonders for your encouragement, not a five minutes ago you were ready to give up and now you've got a second breath!
You follow the movements on your own, eyes glued to the screen.

"Alright, keep going, keep going! You can do it, it's all in the rhythm! Wider swings, wider swings!"

His hands rest on your withers, his shirt is felt on your back and his chin barely brushes the tippy top of your mane.
It's like... It's like he's about to mount you!

"Don't get distracted, you can do it, Born, you wouldn't be here otherwise!"

Chasing away lewd thoughts you get your hooves back under fine control.
Left. Right. The timing is slightly off, but you're almost there.
You can feel the exact moment when you start building up velocity.
In few wide jumps you cross the room and only keep speeding up.

"See? See!? You can do it! Keep up the pace! Keep it up! Give me five jumps! Then give me five more!"

Sir Unnamed's energy is contagious - your teammates join in cheering you on from behind.
Five. Ten. Fifteen.
Twenty!
Before you can celebrate, your player character is snagged on a tiny piece of geometry, stopping dead in the tracks. Whoops, you weren't paying attention to where you've been going.
You look up back to your coach with a tinge of guilt.

"Yip!"

You find yourself buried in the Mr. Unnamed's hug, your muzzle pressed deep into his pectoral divide.
His scent is strange yet pleasant and with your current predicament, completely overwhelming.
You could get used to this...
It is decided. You will never bathe again.

You are Anon, tired but very happy with today's progress.
Luna checked up on you occasionally, her sudden appearances causing your pelvis to frantically look for an emergency ejection button every time.
She was all business, however. Very interested in your approach, she shared your enthusiasm about the progress.
You leave your charges abuzz with their newly-realized movement powers and go change again, getting pumped to pump some iron.
Say what you want about uptight-ness of the Canterlot Castle, but they got mean gyms.
Royal guardsmares gotta be regulars here.
You must admit, you're intrigued as to how some of these horsey lifting implements are actually used, since in your last stallion-only gym equipment went mostly untouched.
Much to your relief, this gym has everything you need for your routine and not a single soul to drool over you, so without much fuss you get down to business.
Your sweet rhythm of exertion is interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Doth Thou Even Hoist, Sister?"

You get up to look and sure enough, it's Royal Sisters.
Luna is clad in sportswear and fiddles with a considerable dumbbell, while Celestia just stands there giving her sister look of disapproval.
Maybe waltzing into Royal Gyms willy-nilly wasn't such a smart idea.
Your pelvis is terrified at the prospect of alicorn sisters double-teaming you.

You are The Solar Scourge of Cakes and Assorted Pastries, so you must be Celestia.
Your sister seems to have bested you at your own game, clam-jamming you for the umpteenth time in a row.
All the while having your conquest-to-be prancing around dressed in enough slut-wear that you're not sure how the castle hasn't succumbed to the riotous lust yet.
There's so much whimsy involved in this entire affair that The Chaos Connoisseur And The Literal Embodiment of Coltish Whimsy Discord simply must be somehow involved here.
*FWAMP!*
Postcard materializes in front of you.
You reflexively pick it up in magic and bring it closer.
It reads: "No, I'm not!"
On the front face it shows an animated view of Discord sunbathing at some remote luxurious resort, saluting you with a frilly cocktail in claw.
Figures.
It takes quite a lot of willpower not to scrunch.
You teleport to the royal kitchen to treat your frayed nerves.
However...
Yes! That's it!
Your sister is sure to over-do it with strong-hoofing the stallion into her grasp, lending him to fall squarely in your hooves.
It's practically bound to happen; you'll look like his savior and you don't even have to do anything! It's the perfect plan!
With these thoughts you dig in into today's sixth Vanilla Triple Strawberry Explosion cake.

You are Anon, and you have successfully pumped iron and avoided pumping any alicorns, surprisingly enough. Thank goodness!
Finally at your apartment, you lock the door behind you and drop off the keys.
Undressing on your way, you make your presence known to your marefriend.
You spot a bunch of desiccated fruits on the counter but shrug them off. It can wait.

The lights are dimmed and you stumble around a bit until you notice your marefriend milling about in the dark.
Fluttershy suddenly straightens out her posture, flies over and unceremoniously shoves her tuft in your face, tackling you onto the bed!

"MFFMMMFMGHHHH!~"

It smells like flowers and a blend of herbs.

"Animal in bed? That's IT, mister!"

Swiveling in place, you surface from the sea of fluff.
Fluttershy looks down at you, licking her lips in a predatory fashion.

"Is it just me or did you grow fangs?"

On a second glance, her wings are leathery and she has vertical-slit pupils.
The question makes her falter, stand up over you and inspect her teeth with a hoof.
You use this opening to give her an encouraging back-rub.
Finally she sulks a little and explains,

"There was a magical accident, and n-now... um, 'it' happens when I'm too upset, or too..."

The blush on her already rose-red cheeks deepens.

"Aroused."

She barely whispers last word, as if expecting some sort of divine retribution.
Her fangs have waned considerably.
Your belly-scritchies slowly become lazy side-scritchies before shifting to sensual back-rubs.
She lays back down on your chest, enjoying the attention.
You lean in towards her and whisper,

"You know, that's..."

Slowly but surely your hands drift to her withers.

"...pretty hot."

Her fangs did a sharp (har-har) U-turn and are getting more prominent by the minute.
Did she think you'd be scared off by a pair of fangs?
As if! Fangs or no fangs, you love that mare more than anything.
You smile and pull her into a kiss.

You are lying on the couch, cooling off after a shower and a bumpy night ride that left your bed in shambles.
You can't imagine how long she waited for this...
Your grasp on your yellow precious treasure tightens.
She reciprocates, pressing her chest against yours, her muzzle resting in the nape of your neck.
The feeling of your combined heartbeats lulls you both to sleep.

Author's Note

I have faffed about with this part for far, far, faaaar too long.
So you know about crack-shipping, but what about crack-herding?