//------------------------------//
// Chapter ∞ 
// Story: Sweet and Elite 
// by Agarwaen 
//------------------------------//

The moment you wake, every part of your body aches, or maybe, it’s just your stomach. It might as well be your entire body, it feels like any moment you might starve to death.
 
“Grrrglgmrglgle,” your stomach says pointedly.
 
“I know, I know,” you mutter, rolling over in your bed. With an outstretched hoof, you grasp for your cellphone. As soon as the life saving device is within grasp you quickly tap out the number for the nearest pizza delivery place – (212) 664-7665.
 
Once it begins ringing, you hit the button for speakerphone and let it fall onto the pillow next to your head. It rings twice before the line goes silent and a jaunty mare’s voice echoes through your room – Celestia, it’s been so long since that happened last.
 
“Hey! You’re speaking to—”
 
“Hi, I need a large pizza with extra, extra, extra… extra cheese, please.” You really hate being rude by interrupting her, but by Goddess, this is an emergency; you might not even make it until the delivery pony gets here.
 
“Uhm…” It takes a few seconds before she speaks again. You think you hear muffled laughter, but that may have just been your stomach again. “Ok. One large quadruple cheese?”
 
“Goddess, yes,” you say, your mouth salivating so much you end up choking on it.
 
After your coughing dies down, the mare jokes, “If you’re still alive out there, I need your address.”
 
“Oh, sorry. It’s 15 Hay Way.”
 
“Alright, it will be about half an hour.”
 
“Ugh…” That was possibly the last thing you wanted to hear. “Just tell the delivery pony that if I don’t answer, I’ve starved to death. They can just buck down the door and take the payment off of my corpse.”
 
The cheery mare on the other end laughs raucously, and you think you might even hear muted giggling in the background, too.
 
“You heard it yourself, folks. That’s consent. Good thing Octavia is into necrophilia.”
 
“VINYL!” a second mare shouts, her voice distorted by the crappy speaker on your phone.
 
“Uh, oh. Gotta go!” A loud click follows the first mare’s words.
 
Staring at the shifting shadows on the ceiling is not the best way to pass time, but in this state, you don’t want to get out of bed for fear of making your hunger worse. After a while, your thoughts segue into the strange way that phone call ended. You hope that your joking didn’t get her in trouble with her boss.



***



The knocking at your door couldn’t come fast enough. As much as your body protested, the dash to answer it was nothing short of the fastest you’ve ever moved. Flinging the door open, your wings unfurl instantly.
 
That smell!
 
It’s nearly enough to send you into a food coma right then and there. Sooooooo cheesy.
 
If you thought the phone call ended weird, the delivery mare is nothing short of bizarre. The white unicorn wears an equally white visor with the word ‘pizza’ mouthwritten across it. Her two-toned blue and brighter blue mane pokes out around the edge of the makeshift hat with little or no concern shown for its neatness.
 
“That’ll be seven bits, please.” As soon as she speaks, you recognize her as the same mare you spoke to on the phone. 

Regardless of all of these oddities, you throw a bag of bits towards the mare, grab the pizza, and shut the door. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for you to liberate your first piece of pizza from the box and devour it.
 
Sooooooo Cheesy.
 
Between bites, your ears perk, hearing the mare’s muffled voice from outside the nearby door. “Do you think we’ve waited long enough?”
 
“Surely it’s been long enough,” a mare with a Canterlotian accent responds. Your heart jumps up into your throat when a trio of knocks resound. You freeze the moment you hear it, unsure what to do.
 
“Probably passed out,” the first mare says, gleefully. It takes a moment before you notice the strange taste on the back of your tongue.
 
Necrophilia!
 
Doing the first thing that comes to mind, you rush to the door, swinging it open again. The white mare has shed her ‘pizza’ hat and is now smiling widely at you. At her side is another mare, an earth pony with dark grey hair and taupe fur. She wears a small smile of her own.
 
“What did you do to me?!!” you shout. Their expressions quickly shift into abject horror. “Did you poison me?” Without waiting for an answer, you quickly shove the tip of your wing down your throat, tickling the back in an attempt to force whatever it was on that pizza out of your body, but just like always, trying to make yourself gag just causes a burning sensation in the back of your throat.
 
Water, maybe if I drink lots of water!
 
You turn and leap towards the faucet but all your effort rewards you with a sharp pain at the base of your spine. It takes a few seconds before you realize somepony is holding you by your tail. Turning back, you see that the unicorn’s horn is glowing blue, and the same blue aura envelops your tail. She must know what’re you’re trying to do and wants to stop you!

By now, you’ve noticed the familiar sensation of adrenaline; the trembling of your hooves and wings, the racing of your heart, and the gasping breaths you take. Kicking off with your legs at the same time you flap your wings, you rocket towards the sink, pulling the white mare off of her hooves as her magic is overpowered.
 
“Whoa!” she yells as she topples over.
 
Your lips wrap around the faucet the moment you reach the sink, and a flick of your wing sends a cool flow of water down your throat.
 
“What the hay is wrong with you?!” shouts the white mare from just behind you. You whip around to face her and get a close up of her magenta eyes, full of anger. For a moment, you shrink back before flaring your wings and pushing your nose so close you can feel her breath.
 
“Passed out?! Necrophilia?! What did you think I would try to do when somepony is trying to poison me?!”
 
In an instant, the mare’s eyes shrink to a pinprick and she stumbles back a few steps before her rear hooves give out and she falls to her rump.
 
“Uhmm… Uhhh…” she mutters, looking down at her hooves.
 
“What Vinyl means to say,” the taupe mare says, confidently trotting up next to her friend. Your glare falls on her, but she doesn’t seem to react in the least. “Is that we’re sorry for the misunderstanding. We’re not here to harm you.” Your eyes close into a disbelieving squint.
 
“Then why are you still here? You have your bits and I have my pizza.”
 
“Perhaps it would be better if we introduced ourselves, formally.” She bows her head slightly, and as she does, her fringe covers her eyes “My name is Octavia and this is Vinyl Scratch.” After pushing her mane out of her face, she motions a hoof to her friend, who’s recovered from her shock. “We, among other things, host a radio show on K-Colt.”
 
“So, why are you here?”
 
“You called us in the middle of a contest, asking for a pizza.” The white one, apparently called Vinyl, points to your breakfast with a hoof.
 
“So?”
 
“You also happened to be the seventh caller, the pony who is supposed to win the contest,” the other – Octavia – says, faintly smiling.
 
“And you decide to try to poison me?” Octavia’s smile fades, and she brings up a hoof to rub her temple.
 
Vinyl stands up, glaring back at you, again. “What? No one tried to poison you!”
 
“Then why did my pizza taste funny?”
 
“Vinyl may have dropped it onto the studio floor,” Octavia supplies innocently.
 
A bit of red fills Vinyl’s cheeks as she shouts, “Octy!”
 
“The truth is the only way to get out of this hole you’ve dug us into.” Vinyl looks to her cohort, one eye squinting and her mouth contorting in an odd manner.
 
“You’re the one that wanted to come along, if—”
 
“You said I’ve won something?” you interrupt, for the second time, today.
 
“Yeah! Didn’t you see the inside of the pizza box?” Vinyl doesn’t seem to notice or care about being cut-off, a hint of a smile forming on her face.
 
“I saw floor pizza.”
 
“Eh heh…” Vinyl laughs, pointing a white sheet of paper tucked under an envelope that’s taped to the inside of the box’s lid. “How did not see the big note inside the box?”
 
“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve eaten?” you say, looking longingly at the cheesy ambrosia just a few hooves away from your mouth.
 
“Uhh… no?”
 
“Like six hours! I thought I was going to starve!”
 
“Six hours? Is that even possible? I went four, once. It wasn’t fun…” she says, grimacing near the end.
 
“Wait, so what did I win?”
 
Both mares somehow motion to the pizza box at the same time. Though, only Vinyl speaks up – you get the idea she does that a lot. “If you’d just look in the envelope, you’d know.”
 
You go to reach out for the envelope, but a rumble from your stomach quickly redirects your hoof. Before you can take a bite out of your slice, Vinyl, who’s managed to put on a pair of large, purple sunglasses, sidles up to you.
 
“Can I bum a slice of that?”
 
“Ehhhh…..” you mutter, counting the slices remaining.
 
I guess I could have two slices for lunch…
 
“Ok.”
 
“Sweet!”
 
“You two know that has been on the floor of a very busy recording studio, right?”
 
“Relax, Octy, I walk on those floors.” 

Octavia visibly recoils, turning her eyes upon you. You shrug and continue eating. Halfway through your slice, the envelope is surrounded by Vinyl’s magic and floats over to you. It opens itself, revealing an ID card attached to a black lanyard. On it, is a picture of a unicorn mare, standing on her rear hooves, a microphone clasped between her forehooves. Across the top the word ‘backstage’ is written in reflective letters.
 
“Oh my gosh, Sweetie Belle is in town?”
 
“You must have heard of her then. Do you like her music?” Octavia questions, trying to hide a snicker.
 
“I went to school with her in Ponyville. It’s been forever since we’ve seen each other,” you say, just now noticing that the slice of pizza you held had slipped from your hoof and managed to land face down on the counter. Even still, you’re genuinely smiling for the first time in quite a while.
 
“So, when is this concert?”
 
“Downtown, in two hours.”
 
Octavia giggles at you. “Don’t worry, that’s plenty of time to get ready,” Vinyl says, nudging your ribs with her hoof. “Though, you could use a shower.” In agreeance, you quickly thank both mares and escort them to the door. Just before they turn to leave, Vinyl quips, “Oh, and your mane could stand to be brushed.” As you close the door, Vinyl smirks deviously at you.
 
“You’re one to speak, Vinyl.” You hear Octavia say, through the door.
 
As you go to grab another slice of pizza, you glance at your reflection in the kettle, and the image that looks back at you reminds you of something you’d see in one of those zombie movies. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire as you walk towards the bathroom, nomming on pizza on the way.
 
“Oh well, it’s just hair,” you state.




***




“Freaking hair! Why won’t you stay down?!” You glance at the clock, noting how little time you have before the concert starts. Frustrated, you chuck your brush into the sink and step into the shower again. It only takes a second in the water before your mane droops heavily downward. Your head whips back and forth wildly, flinging most of the water out of your mane. You’re not going to make the mistake of using the towel twice in one day. Traditional flying dry, it is. Though, this option has a side-effect of getting your floor wet, too. It’ll dry, and either way, you don’t have time to worry about it.
 
Why’d I have to spend an hour and forty-two minutes laying on the couch when I could have been getting ready?! Well, because it was comfortable, really. It was worth it.
 
The flight isn’t really that long, but it’s long enough that your mane and coat are sufficiently dry when you land outside the Canterlot Opera House. It’s oddly fitting that Sweetie’s concert is in an opera house, even as a filly she had a good set of pipes, and you doubt that’s changed for the worse as she aged. You spend a few moments looking down at the pass hanging around your neck.
 
Other parts of her seem to have stayed just as good, too.
 
You sigh inwardly and walk up to one of the many doors leading inside. At least ten or twenty other ponies are waiting to get inside at the doors you choose to use. Even more ponies are lined up at some of the others; on the other side of the building it looks like there may be hundreds.
 
“Alright, everypony,” a large stallion wearing a black ‘security’ shirt nearly shouts. “You’re going to have to use those doors down there to get in, unless you’ve got a VIP pass.” With his last statement, he looks straight at you, beckoning you over with one of his massive forehooves as the last stragglers trot away. “That means you, buddy.” When you approach him, he swings the door open. “Go see Snowflake down by the stage and he’ll get you inside.” The security stallion points to another stallion. One that, somehow, seems even bigger. You nod and trot inside, and the second you get through the door, it swings shut behind you, probably to keep some of the more enthusiastic line-jumpers out. 

You were right, the second security stallion is bigger than the first. He’s bigger than anypony you’ve seen, with exception to his tiny Pegasus wings. You’d heard that steroids could do some bad things to a Pegasus, but the idea of having wings that tiny nearly makes you sick. Snowflake isn’t nearly as talkative as the first guard. You stand in front of him for a few tense moments, weathering his squinting glare, before you decide to pipe up. “So, is this me?” you ask, pointing to the door he’s standing next to.
 
“YYYEEEEAAAAHHHH!!!!!” he shouts, bucking the door in. It slams into the wall with enough force to loudly bounce off and slam closed in your face. You decide that it’s best not to say anything and push your way inside.
 
You’re only a few steps down a long, grey hallway when you’re greeted by a white unicorn, her deep red and purple mane draped around the left side of her face.
 
“Hi, I’m Moondancer. You’re the winner of the K-Colt radio contest, are you not?” she asks, smiling brightly at you.
 
You return her smile as genuinely as you can manage and answer, “I am.”
 
“Perfect!” The moment she starts speaking, Moondancer turns, moving down the hallway.  When she doesn’t stop speaking, it becomes clear she was expecting you to follow. “I’m afraid you’re a little too late to meet Miss Belle before the show begins, but there should be plenty of time afterwards.” By the time you realize you were supposed to be following, she has a bit of a lead and you have to trot to catch up. “Usually, we have the VIPs seated in the upper balconies, but since it’s only you tonight, we were hoping you would want to get the real backstage view.”
 
Try as you might, you can’t resist the opportunity she’s given for a good innuendo, but just as you open your mouth, she twists her head around to give you a deadpan look. A wicked grin breaks out on your face. “I’m get—” Before you can even get two words into your sentence, Moondancer disappears through a side door. You let out a melodramatic sigh before following her.
 
The contrast between the confines of the hallway and the wide-open space laid out in front of you is shocking. Cold tile gives way to the warm tones of the hardwood below your hooves. Above your head darkness stretches upward for at least ten meters, where it yields to a shining latticework of scaffolding and a veritable spider web of lighting. Small lights shine down like stars in the night sky, reflecting off the bright red curtains that separate this from the rest of the hall.
 
“Never been on this side of the curtain, have you?”
 
“Wow…” you mutter, only afterwards realizing you had been asked a question. “Oh, no.”
 
“Yeah, I see that look a lot. Though, this is one of the nicer venues we’ve came to, so I don’t blame you. Just wait until you see the show.” Moondancer leads you to near the edge of the stage, where a couple small curtains hang to prevent the audience from seeing backstage. “We just ask that you stay off-stage. Dumbbell and Snowflake prefer their night to be calm and eventless.” She glances to a group of ponies gathered around something in the middle of the stage. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make sure Miss Belle is ready to go.”
 
You watch Moondancer trot out to the multi-colored group of ponies that are each doing separate things, to what you now know is, Sweetie Belle. You take note of at least three mares roiling around Sweetie. One is running microphone wires to and from some unseen place. The second is adjusting Sweetie’s dress – or that’s what it looks to be, you can’t get a good look at it. The last pony is running a brush over every exposed area of her coat, making sure not a single hair is out of place – much in the same way that you thought her sister Rarity had done.
 
As all of the mares take a step back, you’re finally given your first real look at Sweetie Belle since you moved to Canterlot. It really was remarkable how well you remember her, of course, anypony who met the Cutie Mark Crusaders remembers them. Infamy and fear have a wonderful way of invading one’s brain.
 
The first thing you notice is that she’s so much taller now, maybe even taller than you are. Proportionally, her mane doesn’t seem to have grown, but in reality, it must be twice as long now since it falls down to below her shoulders. Without its curls, it would probably drag the floor. Her tail is equally long and, no doubt about it, sweeps along the ground depending on Sweetie’s mood. The form fitting dress – probably one of Rarity’s – she’s wearing is the same pink as her mane with white and green accents. Before you know it, you’re eyes are tracing up and down the lines of her legs to where they disappear under her dress, just below her flank.
 
“Try not to slip,” Moondancer quips as she walks by. You quickly snap your mouth shut and wipe your hoof across your chin, disgusted by the slime you find there. For the next few moments your cheeks burn, and when a bright yellow ‘wet floor’ sign floats over, encased in a field of purple magic, it feels like the fur on your face might catch fire. Casting a glance back, you see Moondancer widely grinning at you.
 
When everything plunges into darkness, you nearly jump out of your skin. Until now, you didn’t notice the slow rumble of the crowd waiting beyond the curtain. A few drawn-out moments pass before you notice the curtain silently parting. The faintest glimmers of light reflect off of the visible portions of Sweetie’s coat.
 
You can just barely see her take a deep breath, close her eyes, and cock her head towards your side of the stage in a downcast manner. As she starts singing, a tide of blue light washes over her from above. She sings the first couple verses like this, looking quite solemn.
 
“Never planned that one day, I'd be losing you,” she sings, her eyes cracking open. You doubt that anypony in the audience could see, but you easily see the pool of tears behind which her emerald eyes rest. As you listen, your stomach slowly sinks down into your hooves.
 
Sweetie’s gaze sweeps across the audience as she belts out a story of regret with tears freely running down her cheeks. It’s not hard to come to the conclusion that somepony who meant a lot to her had hurt her.
 
Whether it’s something in her voice, her eyes, or the song itself, you don’t know, but by the time the end of the song comes, you’re having to fight against the burning in your throat and eyes to keep yourself from tearing up.
 
The next few melancholy songs pass in a haze. You just can’t shake the heavy feeling in your stomach, and every time you sniffle, it feels like your throat is going to catch fire.
 
When the stage is finally flooded with light, you look up, wiping the mist out of your eyes with a hoof. Sweetie looks over to you just as the intro to the next song starts. Her face is consumed by a wide smile, and she subtly waves at you. You can’t help but wave back, and when her smile grows wider, you’re glad you did. It takes most of the song – and you’ll have to thank Sweetie Belle later, the small glances and encouraging smiles really did help – but you manage to bring your emotions under control.
 
After that, you spend most of your time watching Sweetie rather than listening to her music. You watch the range of emotions she goes through in each song. Sometimes sadness and despair, others frustration and anxiety, but the few times she fleetingly looks at you, she’s always smiling. Every time her emerald eyes lock with yours, they leave you stunned and short of breath.
 
Your fascination is broken when you hear a ruckus coming from behind you. It’s only then that you notice the lack of music.
 
“So, it’s been really fun tonight, and unfortunately this is where we have to end it. Thank you for coming out, hopefully you enjoyed it,” Sweetie offers to the crowd, taking a few steps back. They return with a near-deafening cheer and thunderous applause.
 
Beaming, Sweetie walks towards you. Just as the curtains slide closed, the backstage door slams open. A grey stallion gallops through, a manic look on his face, chased by Snowflake. You look back at Sweetie, and your eyes go wide when you see the look of fear on her face.
 
Your heart races as you step out from behind the small curtain that you’ve been standing next to and put yourself in the stallion’s path. The world moves in slow motion as his larger frame crashes into yours at full tilt. Your body hits the ground moments before his forehooves roughly land on your chest. You gasp for air but can’t draw any in, and for a few short seconds, your head spins; then, everything goes dark.




***




“Miss Belle, your friend is fine…” Moondancer’s voice echoes through your head. “Passed-out…”
 
“Listen to me, everything is going to be fine, Miss Belle.” Slowly, you become aware of a burning ache in your chest. “Please, just calm down.”
 
As your body restarts, you notice the warmth of the soft surface on which your head lays. Something moves through your mane, tugging at it gently. Your eyes peek open, slowly, taking a moment to come into focus.
 
A fireplace crackles quietly before you, sunk into the dark wood of the far wall. Its warmth radiates out, across the short-cropped carpet, towards you. The entire room seems eerily different than the one you last remember.
 
All at once, your vision flashes back to the look on that grey stallion’s face and then to the fear in Sweetie’s eyes.
 
Heart racing, you try to sit up, screaming, “Sweetie,” but when you notice the white hoof around your neck, you lay back down and roll onto your back. Now, it’s quite obvious why your pillow is as warm as it is. Your head has been laying on Sweetie’s lap, separated from her coat only by the thin fabric of her dress. A flash of heat fills your cheeks as you look up at her.
 
“Hey,” Sweetie says, taking her hoof out of your mane. If you weren’t already struggling to breath, you have no doubt that her unabashed smile would have taken your breath away.
 
“Hello,” you croak back, clearing your throat after hearing how raspy your voice is.
 
Looking down at you, Sweetie’s eyes haze up as she speaks, “You did it again… Thank you.”
 
“Oh, good. You’re awake!” Hearing Moondancer’s voice, you swivel your head around, looking for its source. Finally, to the side of the couch you find the mare; she frowns a little when you lock eyes with her. “How are you feeling?”
 
“My chest feels like it’s on fire,” you squeak out.
 
“As it should, it looked like that stallion landed on you with all his weight. Consider yourself lucky that you came out of it with only a bloody nose.” Despite her assurance, you can’t help but feel skeptical. ‘Nothing’ shouldn’t leave your chest blazing or your head pounding.
 
“H-how do you know?”
 
“Oh.” Moondancer gives you a reassuring smile, though it does little to ease your worry. “I learned some medical spells while in magic school.”
 
“But then why did you have to do so much to calm Sweetie down just a little bit ago?”
 
“Hmm? Oh, that’s something you’ll have to ask her. I’m not sure why she was so worked up.” For a split second before she turns away, you see Sweetie’s cheeks flush a light shade of pink. 

“Now, sit up so I can have a look at you.” Gently, the hoof that had been cradling you lifts you into a sitting position, and the moment your head leaves her lap, Sweetie stands and walks behind a translucent changing screen. Your head follows her, the entire way.
 
Moondancer takes a seat in front of you, using her hoof to pull your face towards her while she floats over a towel in her magic. The damp cloth is warm against your skin as Moondancer scrubs beneath your nose. When she pulls it away, you notice the tiny red flecks that now intermingle with the white terry; the sight makes your stomach do flips. Hoping to relieve that sensation, you turn your head away as fast as possible. Though, what you see instead is something that sends your heart racing about your chest. 

Cast into a shadow on the changing screen, Sweetie Belle stands on her rear hooves, her hips shimmying as her forehooves slowly work their way down her body. With each movement, the ruffles of her dress slide slowly towards the floor.
 
More forcefully, Moondancer turns your head to face her, not waiting to start scrubbing at your nose again. Though your head may be facing her, your eyes are still glued to Sweetie Belle’s silhouette. Your breathing hitches when her dress crests the top of her flank, sending the long curls of her tail cascading out of their prison. Moments later, the dress is draped over the edge of the divider, and Sweetie Belle trots out, towards the couch. You avert your eyes as quickly as you can and prepare yourself for the worst.
 
When Sweetie Belle doesn’t say anything, you let out a sigh of relief. She takes up a position next to Moondancer, studying your abused nose. The towel floats away and both mares quickly offer comment.
 
“Good.”
“Looks like you got it all.”
 
“I’m glad you’re not hurt,” Sweetie says, quickly hugging you.
 
“As am I,” Moondancer offers, “but I need to go see if the guard has arrived yet. I’ll check back in after I get everything about the riot sorted out.” Without offering any more goodbyes, Moondancer sets the towel on the end table and leaves the room.
 
“Riot?” you ask, a bead of sweat dripping down your neck.
 
“Yeah. Somepony started a fight in the audience and it got out of hand. When security was distracted, that stallion rushed the stage.” Sweetie takes a deep breath, squeezing you tighter. “Who knows what he would have done if you hadn’t stopped him. Thank you.” She doesn’t release you from her grip until she’s finished speaking, and when she does you notice a faint shimmer in her eyes.
 
You want to say something about it, but just can’t bring yourself to do it. After a drawn-out silence, she trots over to the vanity.
 
“I can’t believe you’re the one that won Vinyl’s contest,” Sweetie says, looking at you through her dressing room mirror. She takes a seat in a rather fancy-looking chair, and without looking away from you, she removes the small golden studs that adorn each of her ears. 
 
“I’m not entirely sure how I did it. I was trying to order in breakfast.”
 
With one of her earrings still held aloft in her magic, Sweetie Belle spins around with an astonished look on her face. “Wow, Canterlot has restaurants that deliver breakfast?”
 
“Uhh… Not really, I was ordering pizza,” you say, feeling heat pour into your cheeks.
 
Sweetie flatly asks, “Pizza for breakfast?” Though, the budding smile on her face betrays her true feelings.
 
“Pizza is a vegetable according to Princess Celestia. So, uhh… yeah, breakfast.”
 
“Pizza is not a vegetable,” she resolutely claims.
 
“Don’t say that too loud.” Pausing, you lean closer and whisper, “Nopony can hear you sing on the moon.” She stares at you for a while, doing her best to hide her amusement; she’s not very good at it. Eventually, the strange faces she’s making send you into a fit of giggles, and that only serves to make her contort her face in many funnier ways.
 
“I fail to see how pizza being a vegetable validates it as a good choice for breakfast,” she nearly shouts over your giggles. 

It takes a few moments before you can force yourself to stop laughing and respond with, “Because omelets have vegetables and are covered in cheese, so it’s like a bread omelet.” By the end of your sentence, your perfect logic has managed to bring a smile to Sweetie Belle’s face. The sight makes you puff out your chest a little and ruffle your feathers.
 
“That has got to be the—”
 
“Best idea ever?” you interrupt, beaming.
 
“Well, that’s not exactly what I was going to say…” You fake a gasp, daintily raising your hoof to cover your mouth, and when you pull your hoof away, you introduce Sweetie Belle with your most powerful weapon. A set of puppy dog eyes, and a trembling, pouty lip like no other.
 
Sweetie Belle stares at you for what could be minutes or hours, but was probably a second or two, before she breaks into uproarious laughter. Your jaw hits the floor faster than Rainbow Dash hits mach speed.

No one’s ever resisted the look!
 
“Oh Goddess,” she says, in between bouts of laughter. “You look ridiculous like that!”
 
You can only hold out for so long against the warmth you’re feeling in your chest, and ultimately, you succumb and join Sweetie Belle. 



***



It took a while after the laughter died down before either of you composed yourselves, and just as you’d thought your gaiety had ended, sure enough, one of you would start chuckling, bathing the room in the symphony of laughter, again.
 
When it does well and truly end, you’re left with a comfortable silence in which Sweetie Belle walks over to the couch and sits next to you; oddly enough, she chooses to sit halfway on your cushion, leaving only a few inches between your bodies. You gulp down the knot in your throat and press a little harder into the armrest.

It’s been a long time.
 
Sweetie Belle breaks the silence by asking questions about your life since you left Ponyville. So, you tell her the abridged version of the last few years of your life, trying not to get too personal. You tell her how your father was inducted into the Princess’ personal guard, and about the time that he managed to convince himself that he was in love with Luna.
 
You notice how you involuntarily smile when Sweetie giggles lightly at that. 

You continue on with the story of how your mother chased your father, the royal guard, around the house with a wooden spoon when he told her his secret. You tell her of how he screamed like a little foal when she caught him. 

All the while, your smile grows when Sweetie laughs harder and harder at your family hijinks.
 
When you finish the story, Sweetie tries to steer the conversation back to your life, specifically. After a little hesitation, you tell her how different the schools in Canterlot were from Ponyville and how teachers only seemed to care about the class instead of the students.
 
At a lull in the conversation, she asks if you managed to find your special somepony here; apparently, your deep sigh is the only answer she needs, because as soon as it leaves your lips, she utters an apology.
 
You nearly jump out of your coat when her hoof first touches your shoulder. “Hey,” she says, “we’ve all been there.”
 
You look over to her with a decidedly melancholy expression, asking, “Really?” She smiles softly before doing something unexpected.
 
“One summer after school when we first met,” Sweetie sings. You immediately recognize it as the song she had started off her concert with. She continues singing, describing what you immediately recognize as a part of your past, and for a few verses, the words differ completely from what she had sung earlier. 

Your trance is broken when her hoof travels all the way down your foreleg and grasps yours as she continues her song. “Used to steal your parents’ cider, and fly to the roof. Talk about the future, like we had a clue.” She leans in close to your ear, breathlessly singing, “Never planned that one day, I’d be losing you.”

The world grinds to a halt around you as your mind comes to grips with the words. You can’t see Sweetie’s expression, but just like earlier, something in the way she sings makes your heart drop as fast as your jaw.
 
“What?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything. Sweetie sniffles and sits back against the couch, her head cocked to the side so that she can look at you from behind her shimmering emerald eyes.
 
“It was originally about you.”
 
“B-but…” you mumble.
 
Your stomach feels like it’s doing flips inside your body as you try to put together some semblance of a coherent sentence, but before you can, Sweetie speaks again. “I could never finish the original. Moondancer was pushing me so hard to come up with something new for a concert, so I just made something up.”
 
“That’s why you were crying on stage? Because of me?” You barely manage to squeak out the last few words around the lump in your throat. Sweetie just nods sullenly in response. “I-i… What did I do?”
 
Her voice sounds almost empty as she says, “You left me in Ponyville.”

The feeling of dizziness and nausea that hits you is almost as bad as it was on the train ride to Canterlot, all those years ago. You stumble forward off of the couch, colliding with the vanity hard enough that the mirror rocks forward and backward. In an instant, the dresser seems to double in size, casting you in an endless black shadow that chills you to the bone. You instinctively shuffle backwards, but it only continues to grow larger. Soon enough, your back is pressed against cold stone wall; there’s just barely inches between it and your body, and with the speed it is growing, it’s only a matter of seconds before it crushes you against the wall. 

Something warm wraps around your hoof, but you can’t manage to take your eyes off of the wall of Maplewood bearing down on you. If what’s wrapped around your hoof is warm, then the wave of sweet air that ruffles the fur of your face must be hotter than Celestia’s sun. You briefly wonder where you recognize the scent from, and in that time, the vanity pins you against the wall, feeling like the immensity of a glacier. You try to breathe, to scream, to wriggle free, but the weight is just too much.
 
As a pair of lips press firmly against yours, the world snaps back into place around you. Emerald eyes, half-hidden behind shining silver eyelids, rest so close to yours that you can barely focus on them. It’s been so long since you’d seen them like this, you’d nearly forgot how bright they seem in comparison to the softer colors of Sweetie’s mane.
 
It’s not until she squeezes your hoof that you realize she’s kissing you and you’re just sitting completely still. You’re torn as to whether you should pull away or return her embrace.
 
It’s been so long.
 
When she repositions herself, her nose rubs against yours, and it makes you feel like Pinkie Pie is bouncing around inside your belly.
 
Should we really be doing this?
 
A tiny flick of her tongue across your lips sends a chill down your spine, spreading the fluttering sensation from your stomach up into your heart.
 
Whether or not you had decided, your body answers by parting your lips and allowing her touch to overwhelm your senses with a haze of bliss.



***



The door lightly clicks shut behind you as you glance around the opulent hotel room. On the far wall, a large bay window casts the light from Luna’s full moon across the room, illuminating everything, albeit dimly. A plush couch sits on the far left wall, pointing towards an unlit fireplace. To your right, an open door leads into another room. You can just see the end of a bed, covered in white linens, through the opening.

What can only be the tip of Sweetie’s hoof travels up your back from the base of your tail all the way up to your neck, lingering for a moment near the base of your wings. A shiver makes its way all the way down to the tip of your hooves.

“Bed…” Sweetie whispers into your ear, her voice a number of octaves lower than usual. For a moment, your mind blanks as you endlessly replay that word in your mind. Her breath caresses the sensitive hairs at the base of your ears with every movement of her chest.

When she laps the inside of your ear, following that with a gentle nip, your legs momentarily feel like they’re made of jelly.

“Now…” she says breathily. You gasp when her breath wafts over the saliva left inside your ear.

Without any more coercion, you drunkenly stumble towards the bedroom. The room’s cool air drags over your feathers as you walk, giving an almost icy chill compared to the stifling heat that your body swims in.

Before your mind can wander too far, Sweetie commands, “Lay on your stomach.”

As you crawl up onto one side of the bed, the steady thrum of your heart swells until it’s thrashing about in your throat. When you get comfortable, you fold your wings against your body and turn your head back to look at your soon to be lover.

Oh gosh, how did this happen?

For a moment, you lock your gaze onto the shining emerald of Sweetie’s eyes; she’s grinning, almost predatorily, at you.

Taking the first step onto the bed, Sweetie speaks, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” Her words mark a break in her seductive act. Though, her apparent sincerity only serves to stoke the fire burning in your heart and, well, other places.

Your eyes are transfixed on Sweetie as she deliberately stalks across the bed. Your breath grows short as she straddles your prostrate form. A fluid green aura emanates from around Sweetie’s horn, and a moment later, you feel the tingling sensation of magic wrap around most of your barrel. As the tingles around your wings intensify, your eyes slide closed.

“AAHHHHhhh!” Something between a scream and shuddering moan slips, unbidden, from your mouth, and your head arches back. As best as your overloaded brain can tell, Sweetie’s magic wrenched your wings away from your body, laying them flat against the linens.

“Your wings are beautiful,” she says, nuzzling gently at the side of your upturned neck. You sigh as your body relaxes again and let your head fall to the linens. She follows you down, planting a short kiss in your mane.

Sweetie settles down atop your back, each set of her hooves resting just behind yours, and as her body presses against yours, it’s like being wrapped in the world’s warmest blanket. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t hold in the sigh that worms its way out of your body.

“Now, I’m going make you feel as beautiful as you are.” As soon as she finishes speaking, Sweetie starts trailing kisses down your body.

First, one on your ear.

Immediately, warmth begins to spread out from your cheeks in a quest to cover every single inch of your body.

Three on your neck.

Every touch of her lips leaves your fur tingling with an itch you dare not scratch. Even now, it’s like second nature to shiver beneath her ministrations.

Two on your withers.

Your entire body quivers when she kisses the spot just between your wing joints. Straying to one side, her kisses trail along the leading edge of one wing. Though, now she adds a slight lapping motion with her tongue to each kiss. The first time her tongue glides over your feathers, you let out a high pitched squeak.

With every touch of her lips, your breath grows shorter. Heated by the fire, raging hotter than a train’s stoked boiler, in your belly, each of your breaths come out in clouds of steam. As Sweetie moves upward, the moment between each touch and the anticipation of the next makes you want to scream, but only small whimpers escape from the jelly that is your mind. 

Seventeen on your wing.

Then, Sweetie’s lips pull away, and in the stillness, you feel Sweetie’s heart racing nearly as fast as yours. Though, her breathing is much calmer. As you lay, panting, on the bed, the room feels cold against your sweat-soaked fur, and you only just now notice your mane clinging to your face.

I must look like I just ran a marath— Ohh my goddess!

The short respite is broken when Sweetie drags her tongue over your longest primary, sending a bolt of lightning up, and down, your spine. Unbidden, your own tongue limply lolls from the side of your mouth, resting against the bitter bed linens.

Her head lifts away from your quivering wing, and her weight shifts towards your other side. Whether intentionally or not, her thighs grip tightly around your cutie marks. Your tail instinctively flicks upward, brushing against her. Just for a moment, you think you feel something incredibly hot brush against the base of your tail.

Though, that thought can’t go anywhere before Sweetie momentarily wraps her lips around the tip of your disregarded wing, making your whole body shiver. A clearly audible, trembling breath escapes your mouth she pulls away, leaving behind a trace of cool saliva that’s in stark contrast to the rest of your hot sweaty coat.

A moment later, her hoof slides under your chin and gently lifts you head, arching your back and neck to bring your lips to hers.As soon as your lips meet, something in your mind snaps. In an instant, your eyes roll back in your head, every muscle in your body tenses up, and your tail flicks wildly from side to side. 

The inferno raging through your belly peaks, sending out a wave of euphoria to fill every inch of your body, and for what seems like hours, each beat of your heart brings a smaller surge. In those moments, even your eyelids tremble as your brain is unable to parse the wonderful feelings coursing through you. 

It’s quite a while until you recognize the feeling of Sweetie’s tongue poking around inside your mouth, and when you try to return her attention, she breaks the kiss. Your eyes flutter open as you mumble a questioning, “Hhmm?”

“Welcome back,” Sweetie says, behind a wide smile.



***



The heavy clank of the hotel room’s door isn’t the best way to be awoken after a long night. 

Unfortunately, it is what rouses you from your slumber, and Sweetie burrowing her head more deeply into the back of your mane only serves to bring you back into consciousness, no matter how heavy your eyelids feel. 

It’s just barely light enough to see Moondancer walk past the bedroom door.
 
You don’t even bother covering your mouth when you let out a long yawn. For a moment, you think about getting up, but those thoughts are quickly lost in a sea of joy when a pair of white hooves wrap around your stomach, pulling your back firmly against her body.  Shortly, your hooves join hers, and content to simply lay there, listening to your shared breathing, your eyes fall shut once again.
 
It’s far too short a time before a solid bang breaks your reverie. “Ow, my hoof!” Moondancer yelps. A few moments later a muted bump precedes a crash. “Stupid luggage.”
 
Trying to escape the annoyance, you carefully lift Sweetie’s hoof off of the top of your body and roll over to face her. You have to forcibly hold back a giggle when you see locks of lavender and pink curls covering most of her face; her shut eyelids are just barely visible above where her snout juts out from the veritable forest of her mane.
 
You can’t help but lean forward and lay a short kiss across Sweetie’s lips. She hums happily, trailing one of her hooves up your side, and wrapping it around your neck, she pulls you in for a much deeper kiss; she giggles lightly when you’re unable to stand the burning in your lungs any longer and have to pull away.
 
Heat rushes to your cheeks when she mumbles, “You still taste like me.”
 
A gentle knocking interrupts your response before you can even start. “Miss Belle? We’re all packed up and the crew is ready to go.”
 
In the silence that follows, its then, that the bit drops. “Y-you’re leaving?” you choke out as a tight, burning sensation builds in the back of your throat.
 
“Mhmm,” Sweetie responds quietly.
 
Did she just use me?
 
Your tail instinctively tucks in between your legs.
 
I can’t believe…
 
As your hooves start to tremble, you clutch them to your chest feebly.
 
She said…
 
“You’re shivering, are you cold?” Sweetie asks. In a green flash, the blankets atop you get heavier as another is added to the pile. Against your greatest efforts, her kindness forces a strangled sob out of your throat.
 
“Are you—?” Sweetie’s question hangs unfinished as her eyes open; though, you can barely see them through her mane. After a brief hesitation, she pulls you in and softly pushes her lips against the bridge of your nose. “Hey,” she whispers, “what’s wrong?”
 
“I-I…” you start, locking onto the green in the blurred sea of your vision. “W-we…”
 
“Come on, talk to me,” Sweetie says as she uses a hoof to brush her mane out of her face.
 
“You u-used me.”
 
The words barely escape your mouth before Sweetie squeals, “I did not!” Her hooves tense around for an instant before she brings one up to your cheek, petting it gently..
 
“But w-we…” you mumble, blinking tears out of your eyes. “And now, you’re leaving.” Every word makes your heart sink lower into your stomach.
 
Sweetie’s eyes break away from yours, looking down at your neck. “Last night, you wanted to… right?”
 
“I wanted somepony who cares about me...” Now, it’s your turn to look away, so you roll onto your back, looking up at the blank ceiling. As soon as you get comfortable, Sweetie shuffles over and wraps her hooves around your chest, laying her head against your neck.
 
“I do care about you.” Her words draw your gaze back down where she looks up at you. For a long moment, you study her face. She’s frowning ever so slightly with a glimmer in her eyes.

Having mostly calmed down, you sniffle one last time and wipe your tears; though, there’s still a niggling feeling in the pit of your stomach. “Y-you’re leaving me.” Your body shudders again, but before you manage to fall back down into your pitiable state, Sweetie squeezes you tighter to her body, forcing the last bit of your remorse out of your body in a sigh.
 
“I’m sorry, if I had known I was going to find you here, I wouldn’t have scheduled concerts in Las Pegasus and Whinnypeg.”
 
You just nod sadly and wrap a hoof around Sweetie; a small smile forms on your face when she nestles further into your embrace. “What’s Las Pegasus like?”
 
Sweetie opens her mouth, but shuts it almost as fast. For a moment, her face scrunches up, causing wrinkles to form across the bridge of her nose. “Big,” she says, finally.
 
“Bigger than Canterlot?”
 
Without shifting her position, Sweetie nods, dragging her face over your neck. “At least twice as big.”
 
“Wow!”
 
“And it’s at least half Pegasus architecture, so it’s like if Cloudsdale crashed into Canterlot…” You listen to Sweetie as she continues to describe the city, but your mind focuses on other things.
 
Things like the way that the vibrations of her voice tickle your neck like the worlds tiniest massage. Or like the way her body feels hotter than the warmest blankets, but it’s still comfortable and never makes you sweat.
 
During a pause in her speech, you give her a light squeeze, encouraging her onward.
 
When the melody of her voice carries on, your heart beats a little faster, and the world seems to move a little slower. Looking into the depths of her eyes, the song they sing brings beauty to everything it touches. The indescribable softness of her fur, that not even the most expensive and rare fabrics could imitate, sends shivers throughout your body.
 
In this moment, the last thing you thought you’d end up doing is crying again, but when she asks you a simple question, it’s the first thing you do.
 
“Do you want to come with me?”