//------------------------------// // Cupcakes? // Story: Behind The Scenes at Friendship Is Magic // by Neko Majin C //------------------------------// I walked along the inside edge of the back lot garden of Friendship is Magic Studios trying to find a way back inside the building. I turned the corner; to my immediate right was the wall of the building; to my far left were two identical overly opulent doublewide double-decker trailers sitting across from each other. Identical, except for the fact that one was white with an ornate sun motif and the other was midnight blue with an ornate moon motif. I decided to take a detour towards the trailers. “Is this where you were leading me, Twilight?” I asked nopony. In between the trailers; with the white one to my left and the blue one to my right; I noticed that except for the different colors and motifs, they were mirror images of one another. The windows, the door, the doorknob, the steps, the skylight, the satellite dishes, even the potted plants next to the steps, all mirrored one another in perfect symmetry. Painted on the door of the white trailer was a sun with eight rays. Painted on the door of the midnight blue trailer was a blotch of black with a crescent moon. “The cutie marks on the doors seem a little superfluous. It’s obvious by the colors and themes to whom these trailers belong. However, the perfection of the symmetry is breathtaking.” I said, once again to nopony. I turned to my left and walked up the four steps leading to the door of the white trailer. The doorknob was to my left and the potted plant was to my right. I gathered my courage and knocked on the door of the trailer of the Goddess Princess of the Sun………no answer. I turned around and walked up the four steps leading to the door of the midnight blue trailer. The doorknob was to my right and the potted plant was to my left. I gathered my courage and knocked on the door of the trailer of the Goddess Princess of the Moon………no answer. I hung my head, “No, of course not. They must already be gone. No doubt they are off taking care of some royal duties that are far too important to put off to be interviewed by a nopony reporter from trivial entertainment magazine such as myself.” My heart swelled up with pride as I continued to nopony at all, “I can at least take solace in the fact that their not being here means they are out keeping the world a peaceful place. Thank you, Princesses.” I decided to head back to the studio. Dead center of the side wall of the studio there was a large garage-like door. I examined it; a violet aura sealed it as well. I continued to walk to the front of the studio; all the while looking for a way in that Twilight had not magically sealed. I found an unlocked, unsealed door that was six meters away from the garage door. I raised my hoof to the doorknob, “No, no, that’s what Twilight is expecting me to do.” I resolved to go around to the front of the building and enter the front door. However, when I got there, the entire front door was gone, as though it had never existed. In its place was a solid stone wall. I could not help but applaud, “Impressive, Twilight. I get it; I have no choice but to be your mareionette.” I walked back to the only door that was not magically sealed or disappeared. I cautiously raised my hoof to the doorknob, squeezed my eyes shut, nervously turned the knob, and slowly opened the door. Silence. I opened my eyes, nothing. I walked inside and the door closed behind me, I saw a white Unicorn mare staring back at me. “Oh, hello, Rarity, my name is-” I cut my sentence short as I noticed Rarity’s mane, or lack there of. It was not Rarity, it was a mirror, and below the mirror was a sink. Luna Dammit, I do look like Rarity. The door had led me to the Stallions’ Room. Twilight must not have known about this door since she had never been in here before. Wait, no, something was off, it was too fancily decorated to be the Stallions’ Room. This was the Mares’ Room. I tried to exit the way I came in, however, the door behind me had vanished. There was a flushing sound coming from one of the stalls, and an instant later, the door popped open. “Oh, my Goddess, Rarity, what happened to your mane, why is it gone?! And what happened to your tail, why is it short and red?! And what happened to your eyes, why are they orange?! And what happened to your cutie mark, why is it a… what in Tartarus is that anyway?” Pinkie Pie sobbed as she threw herself at my hooves holding mine in hers, “Who did this to you-hoo-hoo-hoo?!” I am a gentlecolt and a professional so I did not flinch or cringe in disgust as a hysterical mare who had just finished using the toilet gripped my hooves without first washing hers. Instead I calmly reassured her, “It’s okay, Pinkie Pie, I’m not Rarity, my name is Camerashy. I am from-” Pinkie Pie immediately snapped back to her senses. Something occurred to her and she gasped, “You’re not a mare! This is the Mares’ Room!” Then she started throwing whatever she could find at me, bars of soap, cleaning supplies, and rolls of toilet paper as she screamed, “Get out, GET OUT, GET OUT!” I made a beeline for the exit, luckily the door opened out the way, because I crashed through it, tumbling dizzily onto the floor on the other side. Pinkie Pie peeked her head out the door, looked at me and giggled, “Are you okay, Fake Rarity?” “Yes, I’m fine,” I reassured her, “however like I said my name is-” “Is that what you were gonna do to Sapphire Shores? Were you gonna peep on her in the Mares’ Room? Are you into water sports, Fake Rarity?” “I didn’t mean to walk into the Mares’ Room.” “Oh, so you were looking for the Stallions’ Room and accidentally walked in here?” “No, I came in from the outside.” “Really?” Pinkie Pie asked doubtfully as she exited the restroom, “How?” “Through the door?” I offered. “There’s no door in there that leads outside.” I rubbed the back of my neck as I chuckled uncomfortably, “Well, not anymore.” “There never was!” I could tell that Pinkie Pie was starting to get annoyed, “Please, let me explain. The back door had been locked, so I found the garage door, but that was locked as well. Then I found the outside door that led to the Mares’ Room, although at the time, I didn’t know that that was where it led. I figured that it was a trap, so I didn’t use it. Instead, I walked around to the front door, but it was gone! A big stone wall had replaced it! “Therefore, I had no choice but to come back to the outside door that led to the Mares’ Room. I stepped through the door not knowing what I’d find. When I realized I was in the Mares’ Room, I tried to exit the way I entered, but the door had vanished! That was when you popped out and mistook me for Rarity.” Pinkie Pie gasped, “I remember that! I realized you were a peeper and not Rarity, so I threw you out.” “I’m not a peeper! I was tricked into entering the Mares’ Room by Twilight.” Pinkie Pie considered this for a moment then she smiled and said, ‘That sure sounds like something Twilight would do, Fake Rarity the Peeper.” Oh, great, now I’m “Fake Rarity the Peeper.” “Could you please call me Camerashy?” “Sure, if you call me, Pinkamena.” “Fair enough, Pinkamena, could we go somewhere less open to hoof traffic for our interview? Many ponies here have seen me come out of the mares’ room and have heard you call me a peeper twice now. I can feel them all maliciously leering at me.” With a big, bright smile Pinkamena said, “Sure! As long as you call me Pinkie!” As Pinkie led me somewhere, I rubbed my forehead with my hoof, “I think I’m getting a headache.” “I wouldn’t doubt it, C-Shy; I did whang you upside the head pretty good with a bar of soap when you were peeping at me.” “Could you please stop saying that word so loud?” “Which word?” Pinkie asked. Then she started listing random words she had just said, getting louder with each word. “Doubt? Upside? Soap? Bar? Wang? Peeping-” “THAT ONE! That - That one! The last one! Could you please stop saying that one so loud?” “As long as you eat one of these.” “One of what?” It was then that I noticed where Pinkie had led me. We were at the buffet table where I first met Twilight. The table contained considerably less food since I was last here. There were fewer pies, cakes and cookies and only two Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness Cupcakes, one of which Pinkie was offering to me. I really wanted to, however, if I did, it would literally be a pain in the plot. “Not that it doesn’t look delicious, but, I really shouldn’t. There are only two left and it wouldn’t be right for me-” Pinkie cut me off and shouted, “Eat it or I’ll scream the word!” My hooves were tied, I had no choice, so with a reluctant gulp, I took the cupcake in hoof, peeled off the paper liner, and popped the entire MMMM Cupcake into my mouth. The transcendent flavor made my knees buckle. The texture, the taste, it was so pleasurable that it was almost quite literally orgasmic. It was as though it was fulfilling a desire that I did not know I had. I chewed slowly so that this experience would last as long as possible. Eventually, I had to swallow, but that experience was also so glorious that I, for a second time, nearly exploded. Out of breath, and panting from my two trips to the precipice of the Elysian Fields, I said to Pinkie, “That… (Gasp!) was… (Gasp!) the… (Gasp!) most delicious… (Gasp!) thing that I… (gasp!) ever had… (gasp.) in my mouth. Whew!” “Thanks! It took me forever to get the recipe just right.” “You must be the greatest baker in all Equestria! May I have the other one, please?” Pinkie smiled, blushed, rubbed the back of her neck, and giggled shyly, “I’m glad you liked it so much, but, when you were ‘finishing,’ I ate the last one.” My heart sank and tears welled up in my eyes, “How could you bring me to the very brink of gastronomical Nirvana, twice, and then deny me sweet release?” Pinkie taunted, in a singsong voice, “Then you shouldn’t have peeped at me!” I finally broke down and started crying openly, “But… I… did-n’t pe-ee-ee-eep!” Pinkie patted my withers, “You poor thing, I’m sorry. Would you like a cookie? It’s chocolate chip walnut!” My eyes filled with hope, “Did you make them?” “No, the MMMM Cupcakes were my contribution. I think Twilight made these.” “The chocolate chips are probably laxatives,” I pouted. A few seconds of silence past, then Pinkie and I shared a laugh, “Yeah, they probably are, that would explain why there are so many left.” Now in a better mood I said, “It’s a good thing you ate that other cupcake, because with how delicious it was, I would have done anything for it. Ha, ha, you could have made me your slave. Tartarus, with baking skills like yours, you could make anypony your slave.” I passed it off as joking, but I actually meant it. Pinkie got a thoughtful look on her face as she turned her head up and slightly to the right and stared blankly into space. She stayed that way, still as a statue, for a full minute. Strangely enough, she never blinked once. I waved my hoof in front of her and even that did not garner a response. Her mind had totally left our plane of existence. Finally, she closed her eyes and shook her head as she came back to reality, “Nah, I’d have to get a bigger dungeon.” “Excuse me?” “Basement.” “O…kay, so, there’s that. Do you mind if we continue on somewhere so that we may finish our interview? Pinkie smiled brightly, Sure! Walk this way! La la la, la-la la-la.” She hummed to herself as she hopped ahead of me in a serpentine pattern. Each bounce she made took her, at least, one meter into the air, and it did not look like she was even trying. She was only slightly flexing her fetlocks. Furthermore, she was doing the entire performance with her eyes closed. “If I could walk that way, I wouldn’t have to be a reporter.” Pinkie giggled then snorted, “It’s good to see that you’re loosening up, C-Shy.” Pinkie led me to the area in front of the recording booth; there was only one folding chair. She pointed to the chair and said, “Please take a seat.” “There’s only one, and in this situation the gentlecoltly thing to do would be to stand and let you have the seat.” “There’s no need for formalities, I have my own chair. See?” Pinkie reached behind herself and, from out of nowhere, pulled a large, pink velvet loveseat that into the back of which her cutie mark was stitched. My jaw nearly dropped through the floor and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets, “Where did that even come from?!” “The internet.” Was Pinkie‘s carefree answer. Once again, I involuntarily face hoofed. “No, I meant-” “Well, sit down you wanted to interview me didn’t you?” “Oh, no, you first, I insist.” Pinkie climbed up and lounged in her loveseat while I sat in the folding chair. “So, Pinkie you-” “Before we start,” Pinkie interrupted as she looked at me lasciviously, “do you mind if I take these off.” I was, confused, to say the least. I looked Pinkie up and down. “You’re not wearing anything. The only thing I’m wearing is my saddlebag. Ours is a clothing optional society; where, for a mare, getting dressed up to go out means giving yourself a fancy manedo and for us stallions it means putting on a collar and a bowtie.” “Who wears bowties?” “I do, I wear a bowtie. Bowties are cool. Getting back to my point, you’re not wearing anything, so you cannot take anything off. You’re just trying to prank me, like Twilight said you would.” “Oh, really?” Pinkie put her left fore hoof at the base of her forelock; and her right fore hoof at the base of her tail and pulled them back slowly. Her trademark poofy pink mane and tail began to slide off, revealing the straight, flat pink mane and tail underneath. I was gobsmacked, “They make you wear a wig and fake tail?!” “Yes, it’s the big lie of the show.” “But, why?” “I had a bad hair day the first day of filming.” “That’s all?” “That‘s all.” “Well, Pinkie-” “When I’m not wearing the appliances I prefer to be called ‘Mistress Pinkamena.’” Exasperated, I said, “You have got to be kidding me.” Pinkie’s expression changed from bright, comforting and happy to dark, ominous and angry, “Do I look like I’m kidding?” My Adam’s apple bobbed up and down slowly as I nervously gulped, “N-no, ma’am.” “No, what?” I gasped when I realized my error, “No, Mistress Pinkamena.” Mistress Pinkamena’s demeanor reverted to the cheerful one that her character is known for, “Great! So, what do you want to ask me, Camerashy?” That was the first time she actually called me Camerashy. “Well, Mistress Pinkamena, which of the episodes is your favorite?” “Episode of what? I have a lot of favorite shows.” Mistress Pinkamena took a single deep, exaggerated breath and composed a long, mind boggling list comprised of canceled and currently running television shows. “Doctor Whooves, Equestria Championship Wrestling, Ultimate Spidermare, The Diamond Dog Whisperer, Real Horsewives of Las Pegasus, Marelin, All My Foals, Fillies In Tiaras, Married…With Foals, Kitchen Night Mares, Equestrian Idol, Mad Mares, Trotting Dead, Modern Marevels, The Coltbert Report, Maretha Stewart, Buck Rogers (which was not at all what I thought it would be), Two and a Half Mares, The Beverly Hillfillies, Ponémon, Always Sunny in Fillydelphia, and even Sapphire Shores’ Show, be specific, Camerashy!” Unlike with Fluttershy, it was easy to become aggravated by the antics of Mistress Pinkamena. However, for some reason, she frightened me. This, strangely enough, excited me. Trying to come to terms with my ambivalence, I clarified, “I meant, Mistress Pinkamena, what is your favorite episode of Friendship is Magic?” Mistress Pinkamena sat up straight in her loveseat, smiled brightly and asked, “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Perturbed, I sighed, “I thought I had, Mistress Pinkamena.” “Um…,” Mistress Pinkamena scratched her chin as she thought for a moment, “I guess if I have to choose… I can’t do it, I like them all!” I am a professional and a gentlecolt, so it is easy for me to control my anger, especially in the presence of mares and foals. However, that did not stop my left eye from twitching and my front left fetlock from trembling with anger. I took a couple deep breaths to regain my composure, and, chuckling ruefully, pressed on, “Now, Mistress Pinkamena, if you could narrow it down to one episode, which one would it be? …ONE.” Mistress Pinkamena let out an annoyed sigh, “Fine, if I had to pick, it would be episode fifteen of season two, ‘A Friend in Deed.’” “Actually, Mistress Pinkamena, ‘A Friend in Deed’ is season two’s eighteenth episode.” Mistress Pinkamena’s demeanor once again turned dark and frightening as she grabbed me by the left pectoral, leaned in close, and scowled, “How dare you correct me with… facts?” I was trembling. However, why was it not from fear? “I - I apologize?” “Excuse me?” “I apologize, M-Mistress P-Pinkamena.” Why did I enjoy that? Mistress Pinkamena unhoofed me and, once again, she was cheerful. “NERD! You’re right though, ‘A Friend in Deed’ is, indeed, (hee, hee) episode eighteen. It’s still my favorite episode, even though it isn’t the fifteenth.” “And, Mistress Pinkamena, why is it your favorite?” Mistress Pinkamena looked at me quizzically, “Why is what my favorite what?” I closed my eyes, slowly and repeatedly pounded my forehead with my hoof, and sighing deeply I measuredly rephrased my question, “Why is ‘A Friend in Deed’ your favorite episode of Friendship is Magic…” Mistress Pinkamena cocked a malicious eyebrow at me. “…Mistress Pinkamena?” I quickly finished. Apparently, she want’s me to say “Mistress Pinkamena” every time I speak. …Why do I find that… enticing? “It’s my favorite episode because I, not my voice double, get to sing most of the songs in it. Sure, she sings most of the first song, but I get to help, and the rest of them, are mine.” Mistress Pinkamena chuckled evilly as she menacingly wrung her fetlocks together. “So, you-” “And, I got to teach all my Ponyville friends how to do hardcore parkour.” Mistress Pinkamena stood up on her loveseat and back flipped behind it. There was a loud crash when she landed. “Are you alright, Mistress Pinkamena, do you need medical attention?” Mistress Pinkamena’s head popped up from behind and rested atop her loveseat, “Fine and dandy, Camerashy! Hay, how do I look?” Mistress Pinkamena leapt over and landed on all fours on her loveseat and struck a pose holding up her front right and holding out her back left. She was wearing a pair of lacy black panties, a matching garter belt, and black silk stockings on her hind legs. She may have been smiling; however, I was too distracted to notice. I may be a gentlecolt; however, I am also still a stallion, therefore my jaw could not help but drop. I may be a stallion; however, I am also still a gentlecolt, therefore my face could not help but blush. Embarrassed, I (almost) immediately squeezed my eyes shut and turned my head down and away. “Wow, with your head blushing like that and from this angle, you look like a short, bald Unicorn version of Big Macintosh. What’s the matter, Camerashy? Why won’t you look at me?” “You are not decently dressed, Mistress Pinkamena. I should not see you in that… state of affairs. “Well, why not? You’re the one who said that,” Mistress Pinkamena did a poor imitation of my voice as she used my own words against me. “‘Ours is a clothing optional society.’ Well, now I opted to wear clothes, so, why won’t you look at me? “Well… I am not sure, Mistress Pinkamena, it just… does not seem… proper. It may be because what you are wearing is not meant to be seen, except in an intimate setting, or during a particularly windy day.” “Would it be easier on you if I was buck naked?” “Possibly, Mistress Pinkamena, however, could you please not phrase it like that?” “What would you prefer: commando, nude, au naturel, free ballin’?” I sighed, defeated, “I suppose naked is the least embarrassing way to put it, Mistress Pinkamena.” Mistress Pinkamena giggled and snorted, “You can’t look at me when I am wearing panties, but you can look at me when I’m buck naked? You’re very kinky, Camerashy.” I could feel my face getting redder as I heard the movement of fabric. “Okay, I’m completely buck naked! You can open your eyes now!” I slowly opened my eyes and sure enough, Mistress Pinkamena was true to her word, she was naked again. I breathed sigh of relief. Mistress Pinkamena could no longer contain herself as she fell out of her loveseat onto the floor on her back in a laugh fit, “Pfft-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, you’re a dirty pervert, Camerashy! Ha-ha-ha-ha-haaa!” Mistress Pinkamena was rolling on the floor laughing at me and she looked up and asked, “Whoa, Hay, is that a can of tennis balls between your legs, or are you just happy to see me? Ha-ha-ha-ha!” I quickly crossed my legs, crushing my “pride” in the process. Now it was my turn to tumble onto the floor. However, I did so in pain. Why did I enjoy that? Mistress Pinkamena’s mood changed from jovial to worried when she saw me fall, “Oh, my Goddess, Camerashy, are you okay?” “Yeah, Mistress Pinkamena, I’m good.” I replied, in a register two octaves higher than middle C. Mistress Pinkamena somersaulted backward to an upright position, smiled and held out a hoof, “Here let me help you up.” I put my hoof in Mistress Pinkamena’s and with very little effort; she brought me to a full upright position. With my hoof still in hers I said, “Thank you,” in a register one octave higher than middle C. Mistress Pinkamena squeezed my hoof with hers with a viselike grip and yanked me close to her, head butting me near the base of my horn in the process. She stunned herself a little, but quickly recovered. She played it off like she meant for heads to collide, however, I think she accidentally pulled me harder than she meant to. Her eyes spun around in her head for a couple seconds then they narrowed into a scowl, “Thank. You. Who?” “Thank you, Mistress Pinkamena.” I said in my normal register as I my body shuddered and my eyes rolled back in my head on their own accord. Why did that phrase turn me on? Mistress Pinkamena released me from her death grip, smiled brightly, and patted me on the head like she was praising her dog, or I suppose in her case, her alligator, “Good job, Camerashy, you’re learning.” Mistress Pinkamena hopped back up onto her loveseat and I was about to sit in my folding chair when she moved to the left side and patted the right cushion, “Come on, get up here.” She had some kind of bewitching hold over me. It must have been the straight mane and tail; I always thought they made her look cuter. However, I was not yet that far gone. I am still a professional and a gentlecolt, and was still, mostly, in control of what was left of my faculties. In addition, she was out of cupcakes, so I found the strength I needed to deny Mistress Pinkamena her behest. “I am sorry, Mistress Pinkamena, but I cannot grant that request, and it would be very unprofessional of me to do so. Therefore, I will just- What in Tartarus?” Somehow, while I was verbally denying Mistress Pinkamena, my body had mysteriously crawled up onto the loveseat on its own accord, and suddenly, without realizing it, I was seated at her right hoof. I used to be a professional and a gentlecolt, now I was just scum, letting my primal urges take over like that. I forced my brain to take control of my limbs before I did something that, admittedly, would have been very enjoyable, but ultimately, would have reduced me to nothing more than a carnal beast that lives to serve a false mistress. With sheer brain and willpower, I forced myself off Mistress Pinkamena’s loveseat and onto the floor. I turned around and forced myself to bow. “Mistress Pinkamena, I consider myself a professional and a gentlecolt. However, I cannot accept your invitation and still consider myself either. I am so very sorry, because right now I must be both and not listen to the raging ‘beast’ that dwells beneath.” The chains of chivalry are heavy, indeed. I stood back up. Mistress Pinkamena’s face was stolid, and then, once again, she burst out laughing uncontrollably. “Oh, my Goddess, Camerashy, Twilight’s right, you are very uptight! Tartarus, you’re so uptight I think that stick up your plot has a stick up its own plot! You’ve got to loosen up; you don’t need to be so formal. All your formality will get you are more and more awkward situations.” The more I try to be a gentlecolt, the more outrageously these mares act. The more I try to be a professional, the more weird situations they put me in. However, I decided that I would stick to my principles. This was my first real assignment as a reporter since I was hired at Hoof Beat; and I was not going to let anypony ruin my steadfast resolve. Buck that. “Okay, Mistress Pinkamena, I am going to be brave here, and ask you a difficult question. Since you were the one who brought up songs; which one of the songs from Friendship is Magic is your favorite? Remember, you asked me to take the stick out of my plot, if you get violent, I just might stick it right back up there… That came out wrong… So did that.” “Hee, hee, hee. That was funny. Okay, you earned it. My favorite song was ‘Giggle at the Ghosties.’” That answer came easier than I thought it would. I learned my lesson from my first question and made sure I spelled out exactly what I wanted to ask her, “Why then, Mistress Pinkamena, is ‘Giggle at the Ghosties’ your favorite song from Friendship is Magic?” “Because it was the very first song in the entire series, and it was mine. That is, until everything went wrong. They said my voice was too ‘goofy’ to sing it.” Mistress Pinkamena became crestfallen, “My voice is not goofy, is it? A few seconds of awkward silence passed then Mistress Pinkamena got panicky. She crushed my pectorals in her hooves as she yanked me closer and started crying in a loud, goofy voice, “Well, is my voice goofy or not?” It would have been mean, unprofessional, ungentlecoltly, and unwise to tell her the truth. In addition, I was afraid that if I was honest with her she would squeeze harder and I would pass out. Who knows what these crazy mares would do to me while I was unconscious. Therefore, I did the logical thing and lied through my teeth, which were clenched in pain, “Of course not, Mistress Pinkamena, I think you have a lovely voice.” It was not really a lie, just a slight omission of the truth. Mistress Pinkamena squeezed me harder and cried louder and goofier, “YOU’RE JUST SAYING THAT!” The pain was making it hard to stay conscious, “I’m sorry, Mistress Pinkamena, yes, your voice is a little goofy, but only sometimes, and in a very cute way. The rest of the time you have a very lovely voice, and I mean that.” Mistress Pinkamena was not buying it and her grip was getting tighter. Twilight was not kidding when she told me not to mention the voice dubbing. The breath was being crushed out of body and soon, if I did not think fast, I would pass out. A burst of inspiration came to me moments before I was going to faint. My right hoof crossed my heart, I flapped my forelegs like wings and my left hoof poked my left eye as I recited the Pinkie Promise, “Cross my heart, and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.” Her grip slowly loosened and the pain slowly ebbed. Nothing like a moment of abject terror to make you feel alive. Finally, Mistress Pinkamena let me go and a smile popped onto her face, “Oh, well then, it must be true ‘cause nopony breaks a Pinkie Promise.” Her expression once again turned ominous, “At least they better not.” After that addendum, Mistress Pinkamena was once again bright and cheerful. What else could go wrong? As if the Moirai themselves were listening to my thoughts, “somehow” the back two legs of Mistress Pinkamena’s loveseat broke simultaneously. No longer balanced, the loveseat fell backwards taking Mistress Pinkamena along for the ride. She tumbled, head over hooves, longer than I expected she would. “Mother of Celestia, Mistress Pinkamena, whatever happened? Are you alright?” Mistress Pinkamena rolled backwards one final time and landed on her hooves, dusted herself off, and smiled brightly. “Right as rain, Camerashy! Hee, hee, hee, that sure was weird, wasn’t it?” “Indeed, Mistress Pinkamena, whatever could have caused that? It sure is too bad that your loveseat broke.” Mistress Pinkamena examined the damage, “Weird, it looks like the legs were cut. Oh, well, there’s more where that came from.” Mistress Pinkamena pushed the broken loveseat out of the way and once again, she reached behind herself and once again, out of nowhere, pulled a large, pink velvet loveseat that into the back of which her cutie mark was stitched. “Did that one come from the internet as well, Mistress Pinkamena?” I asked flatly. “No, I have loveseats stashed all over Equestria in case of loveseat emergencies.” Mistress Pinkamena said with a huge smile as she hopped onto her new loveseat. Once again, I involuntarily face hoofed. Possibly sensing my bewilderment, Mistress Pinkamena added, “It did originally come from the internet, and so did all the others I have stashed everywhere. This one isn’t even number two, its more like number forty-two.” Wearily I asked, “Mistress Pinkamena, do you mean to tell me you have forty more of these hidden somewhere all over the world?” “Hee, hee! No, that would be silly, I have a hundred and ninety-eight more of these hidden somewhere all over the world!” I had no idea how to respond to that. Dealing with Mistress Pinkamena was making me sick to my stomach. However, it may have been the Marzipan Mascarpone Meringue Madness Cupcake coming back to bite me on the plot. Either way I only had a couple more questions before I was finished talking to her, and that thought made me sad. Because, being as nerve-racking as she was, there was something… wondrously fun about her. “Mistress Pinkamena, who is your favorite villain from Friendship is Magic?” “Changing the subject, huh? Fine, I suppose if I had to choose-” My stomach started gurgling. “it would beeee-” My stomach began to churn. “um, I feel weird saying it, but the fans call her ‘Pinkamena Diane Pie,’ or me, from ‘Party of One.’” Mother of Celestia, it was the cupcake. There was an immense, gaseous pressure building up in my… stomach. “Whoa, Camerashy, why are you blushing so hard? Is Pinkamena Diane Pie your favorite villain, too?” “Mistress Pinkamena, I am extremely sorry for what I am about to do.” FFFFWWWWAAAAMMMMP! The fart resonated throughout the entire building, being a soundstage and all. However, the pressure was subsided, for now. The eyes and attention of various crewmembers that were milling about were drawn to the source of the sound, me. I stood up and bowed profusely, “Excuse me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so, sorry. That was so very rude of me, Mistress Pinkamena, please; forgive me my obnoxious lack of tact.” For the second time today, my chin was resting on the floor while I waited for a response from the mare I offended. “You’re excused, and you’re right, that was tactless. I mean, you could have just gone into the recording booth to fart, we all do it. Tartarus, we’ve even nicknamed it the ‘fart box.’ It’s soundproof, and it even has a little exhaust fan and flue to suck the stink out. Do you see all of those little cardboard pine trees? They‘re not for decoration. But, you didn’t know about the fart box, so you’re forgiven,” Mistress Pinkamena reached down, lifted my chin up, giggled, and winked, “this time.” “Thank you, Mistress Pinkamena.” Once again, my body shuddered and my eyes rolled back in my head on their own accord. Why does that phrase feels more… right each time I say it? “Why is Crazy Pinkie,” Mistress Pinkamena’s expression became what I assume is murderous at the mention of the phrase “Crazy Pinkie,” so I quickly changed my wording. “Excuse me, why is Pinkamena Diane Pie your favorite villain, Mistress Pinkamena?” “Because it was the first time that I, and not the filly playing young me, was able to be on camera without the mane and tail appliances. But, that’s not the only reason. I like her because the ‘bronies’ started calling her by my full name. Nopony ever calls me by my full name, not even my closest friends, not even when I’m not wearing the appliances. Everypony calls me ‘Pinkie’ or ‘Pinkie Pie.’” A single tear rolled down Mistress Pinkamena’s cheek. “That‘s so-” A naughty smile appeared on Mistress Pinkamena’s face and she chuckled wickedly as she spoke in a voice that was barely audible, “Except in my dungeon.” “I’m sorry, Mistress Pinkamena, what was that?” I asked as though I failed to hear her. “Nothing, nothing at all.” “Well, then is there anything else that…you…would…like-” Once again, my stomach started gurgling and churning. This time, however, the sensation was intensely more excruciating. I have felt this pain so very many times before that, to me, it was almost second nature. I knew what was coming; I knew where I needed to go; and I knew how much time I had to get there. However, I also just realized that I had just spoken without saying “Mistress Pinkamena.” Mistress Pinkamena once again grabbed my left pectoral with her right hoof and squeezed, and with a scowl that was once threatening, but now I found endearing, or at least I would have if more pressing matters were not presently weighing heavily on my… mind, said, “Excuse me?” “My deepest apologies, Mistress Pinkamena, I really enjoyed our time together. However, I am afraid that I can no longer play with you. I must now take my leave as something seems to be about to come up. Or out, as might be the case. Now, if you will excuse me, I must beat a hasty retreat.” “No.” “I’m sorry, Mistress Pinkamena?” “I won’t let you leave until you… um… kiss my hoof. If you don’t want to make a mess then-” I grabbed Mistress Pinkamena’s front left and kissed it. “Without question, Mistress Pinkamena, after all it is the gentlcoltly thing to do.” I started to walk away, “Good bye, it has been a pleas-” I was stopped short, both mid sentence and in my tracks, because Mistress Pinkamena refused to unhoof me. “No, I meant my hind hoof. Since you did it wrong, you will now have to kiss them both.” I had no time to argue, the scatological clock was ticking and soon the alarm would sound. So I leaned down and- “NO! GET DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!” My bowel had taken over control of my brain and motor functions, causing me to instantly drop to my knees and kiss Mistress Pinkamena’s hind hooves. “Very good now you may-” However, Mistress Pinkamena was too late; I was already at full gallop heading to the Stallions’ Room. Because of my plot of steel, I was able to get there without incident.