It's said in some circles that a mistake in the bush is worth two in the hoof. I don't roll with those circles. They tend to be full of fat, stinky horses. Nobody likes a fat stinky horse, least of all me. I've broken more gunky, cholesterol-filled hearts than I care to admit. It's a thankless sort of life, but one I'm happy to live.

Now, don't get me wrong, or mistake me for some kind of elitist snob. I don't mind fat horses. I don't mind stinky horses. It's just that combination—ripe with fear, a bouquet of sorrow—that seems to always throw itself into my sightsphere. I don't know what I did to attract every single stinky, obese pony in Equestria. It must have something to do with my cutie mark. I guess it’s just like my gram-paw always told me, “Wow, I didn't know ponies could even grow neckbeards.”

You see, I'm a gamer mare. I've known it since a few days after I graduated from pony college, when my dear gram-paw taught me how to play the second edition of Catacombs and Cockatrices, a tabletop role-playing game of skill and imagination, with him and his cantankerous war-buddies. I decided that my character would be a bumbling bardicorn, and as we delved into the catacombs and slayed the cockatrices, it was clear that I was more skilled than lifelong veterans of the game. When I managed to pierce the heart of the Red Eyes Black Cockatrice with my trusty bongos, I felt a tingling on my rump.

Before I go on, do you know how hard it is to get through pony college as a blank flank? Especially as an earth pony as attractive as I am. You couldn't believe how many offers of unprotected pony sex I had to shoot down.

Stuff like:

“Hey, baby, I bet I can help you discover your cutie mark. I bet it's a penis. I bet it's my penis.”

or,

“Whoa, sweet thang, is that a blank flank or is your cutie mark just having a perfect ass? So... uh... can I fuck it?”

or even worthless exchanges like,

“Yo, you ever try baking?”

“Uh, no, why?”

“Because I bet you could make a hell of a cream pie!”

“Uh...”

“With your vagina! It might even be your cutie mark!!”

“...”

“You can borrow my cream!!! My cutie mark is shooting huge loads from my dick!!!!”

...and so on. So you can imagine how happy I was that those days would be behind me.

My cutie mark ended up being a bottle of Mountain Dew and a 20-sided die, which really sort of made the unwarranted lust thing a lot worse than it was before. Except now, I was being chased after by fat, stinky ponies.

Anyway, so what I was sa

Author's Note

introduction