//------------------------------// // Part 1: Confession // Story: Deviant // by Bicyclette //------------------------------// “Just lay low. Be normal.” Those were the last words Bon Bon had ever heard from her handler, before disappearing into her final role. It had been a difficult adjustment, at first. The ponies of Ponyville were just so much more open and innocent than the ones she had grown up with in Bronclyn or worked with at the Agency, and she had let her grumpy side out a bit too much at first. Especially that one time some filly tried to pull a fast one on her by sneaking some apples into her bag. But Ponyville wasn’t Bronclyn and the two drawling farmer ponies weren’t con artists trying to separate her from her hard-earned bit. But she blended into the background, as was her mission, and became indistinguishable from anypony else in the town. Part of it was her genuine love of the nation of Equestria and the immortal Goddess who ruled it, particularly when it came to participating in the many holidays and celebrations decreed by Ponyville’s legitimate government. Part of it was acting, particularly when it came to following the latest trend or craze that would otherwise seem superficial or even foalish to her. Though once, she had not been acting, and to this day she still didn’t know what could possess her to want a raggedy, old doll so badly. But one part of her life really was very normal, and not acting at all. A part that started when a certain mint-green unicorn mare, freshly arrived from Canterlot, showed up at her door to answer the rent ad she had placed for the spare bedroom in her apartment. It was a very normal love story, identical to the countless ones exactly like it unfolding every moment across Equestria. There was no family conflict, no love triangle, no grand adventure. Just two ponies living ordinary lives close to one another, spending time with each other, getting to know each other, and liking what they found. A deep, uncomplicated friendship that would be the perfect base for a deep, uncomplicated love. Except that it was complicated. At least, more so than it appeared on the surface. But she wouldn’t go so far as to say she was living a lie. She felt like she was Bon Bon now. The only days she ever even thought of her old name were the days when she’d make sure to go to the post office early, to pick up the letters before they were delivered to the shared mailbox. Letters from her father, still living in her foalhood home in Bronclyn. She could not bear to ask him to stop using the name her mother had given her. But she was Bon Bon to all her friends here. She was Bon Bon to Lyra. She was Bon Bon for the happiest years of her life so far. The years she spent standing next to that unicorn who smiled all too readily. That unicorn who was always ready with some ridiculous little notion to make Bon Bon laugh, or more often, groan, then laugh inside secretly. Whose happiness was infectious, to the point where when Bon Bon was jumping on top of rooftops along with half of Ponyville while Pinkie sang a song about smiles, the smile on her own face wasn’t in service of her dual mission of blending in and contributing to the positive atmosphere of Ponyville. It wasn’t acting. It was genuine. Because Lyra was there. This was the story she told herself. But she knew that it was self-deception. She knew it because, despite all the signs being there that Lyra felt the same way about her, she still had not made her feelings known. As she insisted to Lyra, they were best friends. Best friends who were best, best friends. The bestest, best friends who ever best friended. Best, best, best, best friends. And nothing more. As long as Lyra didn’t know her true past, she could not take it further. As long as the bugbear that was bound to her old name was still out there, she couldn’t tell Lyra. Then the bugbear came to Ponyville. Her heart broke when she saw the tears well in Lyra’s eyes. The hurt and the confusion and the betrayal. She reassured her with a hoof on the cheek. The lunches. The long talks. The benches they sat on together. It was all real. Because it was. She was so relieved when she saw Lyra’s face melt into a smile. That was all Bon Bon could have ever hoped for. They could come back from this. They could heal. Later that night, after Cranky and Matilda’s reception and Pinkie’s afterparty, they entered their apartment through the door at the back of Bon Bon’s candy shop, still laughing and smiling. An end where, like on so many others she had shared with Lyra, she wished so desperately she could do just one thing. The thing her heart desired to do the most. Except that now, she could. Barely through the doorway, she held Lyra’s cheek with her hoof, smiled, and kissed her. Lyra kissed back, and all of the passion and desire the two mares had been compacting deep down within themselves for years now was unleashed. A whirlwind of manes, a kick to close the door behind them, not a beat skipped as Lyra’s back hit the floor, their lips locked all the while. Tears and moans and weeping and emotion and letting everything out all at once. Every eye contact that went on just a bit too long. Every hoof moved once one realized she was holding the other’s. Every “I love you” that almost escaped. Everything sublimated into this moment that seemed to stretch into forever. Everything. But all things come to an end. Even the single happiest moment in the life of a secret-agent-turned-candymaker. Face flushed, cheeks wet with tears, Bon Bon finally let go of Lyra’s mouth with her own and smiled down at her. Lyra’s face was also flushed and wet with tears. But it was different. Bon Bon’s smile turned into a frown as she realized this. Lyra was crying. “I-I’m so sorry, Bon Bon,” Lyra choked out between sobs. “I… I have a secret… Something I needed to tell you before I… Before we…” It never occurred to Bon Bon that it takes two mares in love to not do anything about it for years. Smiling softly, she gently caressed Lyra’s cheek, an echo of what she had done at the ceremony hall earlier in the day. “Lyra. Whatever it is, you can tell me. Nothing could change the way I see you. The way I’ve always seen you.” Bon Bon could tell from Lyra’s face that she wished she could believe her, but that she could not. She just kept stroking Lyra’s face gently. She would be patient. She wanted to give Lyra all the time she needed. But Lyra laid there for a long time in silence, looking desperately into Bon Bon’s eyes. As if she might never see them again after what she said next. To Bon Bon, every second of that silence was agony, until finally, Lyra spoke. “It’s all in my room.” Bon Bon stepped aside so Lyra could get up, and lead her up the stairs. They were the same stairs Bon Bon went up and down multiple times each day, which made Bon Bon even more disoriented when she turned left instead of right towards the master suite that was her room. Bon Bon realized she had never so much as stepped on that side of the second floor, much less looked into Lyra’s room, during the past five years. Lyra paused at her door, then gave Bon Bon a deeply apologetic look before opening it. Bon Bon braced herself for what she would find as she stepped inside. It looked like… a bedroom? A bed, a dresser, a mirror, a bookshelf, a desk with a typewriter on it, a closet. The only real difference between Lyra’s and hers was that Bon Bon had deliberately chosen her furniture to be aesthetically concordant with the color scheme of her coat and mane, while Lyra’s furniture just seemed to be random pieces she picked up during her life without any deliberate coördination. That, and the general messiness of Lyra’s room, with the bed unmade, books strewn on the floor, and enough plates and glasses to fill a sink stacked haphazardly on the desk and dresser. Oh, and her choice of decoration was certainly different. Shelves lining each wall. Each filled with figurines and dolls and sculptures, clearly not of ponies. But what were they? Bon Bon had a closer look, and realized that they were all of the same creature, in various poses and designs. Their coat colors ranged from pinkish tones to tan to ocher to dark brown. The overall palette just seemed dull without any reds or blues or yellows or greens. They were bipedal, which reminded her of dragons or griffons before anything else, but on a closer look she could see the differences. They didn’t have coats or scales or feathers, but instead just skin, which actually made her a little queasy to consider. You didn’t really see a pony’s bare skin like that outside of a medical context, and so those were the associations that came to mind. But maybe that explained the narrow palette. The range was actually pretty similar to that of what pony skin looked like under those colorful coats. That wasn’t the only difference that struck her. Their hands and feet (though few weren’t wearing coverings of some sort on their feet) weren’t like dragon or griffon hands at all. They weren’t curved and didn’t end in claws like they should have. Instead, they were just sort of long and grubbly, like tiny little worms, ending with bizarre-looking flat nails (though there were a couple of exceptions). It was kind of gross. Bon Bon frowned. “T-they’re called humans.” Bon Bon turned away from her inspection to face Lyra. The name didn’t sound familiar. “Y-you’ve probably never heard of them. They only really show up in a few obscure mid-Celestian folk tales. Creatures that live in the woods, said to come from another world entirely. Occasionally somepony writes a book or play featuring them, but not very often.” Lyra sighed. “The stories are all the same. A naïve young pony, or a group of naïve young ponies find one in the woods. They get enticed by the human’s words and lies, and invite the human into their home. But that’s what the human wants, because humans can’t enter homes without being invited. Then the human’s ideas corrupt them. Corrupt the entire village, even. The stories always end the same way. Somepony discovers what’s going on and fights back. Either destroys the human or banishes them back to where they came. Sometimes the hero is the naïve young pony that was taken in. Sometimes it’s a mysterious wanderer. Sometimes it’s Princess Celestia.“ Bon Bon frowned. “Why would you have so many figurines of such a weird, obscure creature? They sound like nuisances at best, evil at worst.” Lyra smiled sheepishly. “That’s not what their fans see them as.” “Fans?” “Yeah. There are a lot of others like me.” Her gaze wandered. “We’re all over Equestria, and meet up sometimes in big cities like Manehattan or Vanhoover. But mostly we send letters to each other. Contribute to newsletters. Write stories.” Lyra glanced at the typewriter on her desk, and Bon Bon remembered all the times she had gotten up to stretch her legs in the living room in the middle of the night only to hear the muted clacking of keys from the other side of the apartment. “I’ve been into them for a…” Lyra frowned. “A long time now. I still can’t really explain why they appeal to me so much. I think it’s because of how different their world is from the stuffy Canterlot I grew up in. Sure, the canon humans might be a bit two-dimensional at times, since the stories are all pretty straightforward morality tales for foals. But the humans in the fan interpretations…” Lyra looked wistful. “They’re just so dynamic, you know? So bold and brash. They have to be, to survive. Their society gets by without magic.” Bon Bon smiled. “Lyra, is this the big secret? I mean…” She had another look around the room. “I certainly don’t get it, but I like how you get obsessed with things I don’t understand sometimes!“ She stepped close to Lyra and put a hoof to her cheek reassuringly. “I want to understand why it appeals to you this much, but even if I end up not understanding, that’s okay. I want to support you in the things you care about, because I care about you. What you care about doesn’t matter at all.” Lyra did not look reassured at all. She was frowning deeply. “Bonnie…” Lyra sighed. “I really, really wish that was it.” Bon Bon could see Lyra pick up something with her aura and hold it close to her face on the other side of Bon Bon’s hoof, and look at it. Bon Bon looked at it, too, and could see that it was one of those weird sculptures that she could not place earlier. But she could recognize it now. It was the shape of a human hand, except the material was difficult to place. It certainly didn’t look ceramic or wooden or metallic. It looked rubbery… “I’m not just obsessed with humans, and collect figures of them, and write about them. I… I…” Lyra looked into Bon Bon’s hesitant eyes, her own filled with fear. “I want to have sex with them.”