At a truly obnoxious hour of the morning, a very groggy Lyra followed after a somewhat more alert Bon-Bon as they made the short journey to Octavia and Vinyl’s house. At least she was awake enough to avoid tripping over anything and making a spectacle like she usually did. Early-morning light streamed into her eyes, making her squint in displeasure at the idyllic quietude of barely-post-dawn Ponyville. “I can’t believe that I’m up this bucking early. Vinyl and Octavia had better be prepared to do some serious flank-kissing,” she muttered to herself. “Kissing my flank, that is,” she amended as her brain processed what her mouth had said and found the obvious loophole.
“Ahem,” Bon-Bon coughed delicately as they came within view of their destination. “If you are finished complaining like the little filly that I forgot you are, just remember that the wedding is tomorrow. I need to finish the cake, you’ve almost got the music done, Rarity needs to do a final fitting for the dresses, and we all need to not go insane.”
“I know, I know,” Lyra agreed grudgingly. Just because she knew it was necessary and for a good cause didn’t make being up early enough to watch Celestia raise the sun enjoyable. “I’m still gonna complain, though. It’s fun.”
“Of course you will,” Bon-Bon agreed brightly. She didn’t expect anything else from the silly mare, after all. “But you’re still going to do it, aren’t you?”
“Only ‘cause you asked so nice,” Lyra asked as she finally stopped beside the unassuming door of Vinyl and Octavia’s resistance. Her hoof reached out and rapped briskly on the door, causing it to swing slightly inwards. “Hey, it’s open,” she astutely observed.
“I noticed. Just—Lyra, what are you doing?” Bon-Bon asked as Lyra shot her a wicked grin before slipping soundlessly inside the house. “Come back here this instant!”
In her mind, Lyra slipped through the house in utter silence, drifting like a shadow. In reality she almost knocked over a table and sounded like a herd of buffalo as she “snuck” up the stairs, angling for the location of her still-slumbering quarry. Hurriedly, she pressed her ear against the closed bedroom door. The soft sounds of snoring echoing from within assured her that her targets were in fact still asleep and not involved in any other activities that she would prefer to leave uninterrupted.
She pushed the door open, creeping into a bedroom still mostly darkened. Vinyl and Octavia were both still soundly asleep on opposite sides of the bed, looking utterly comfortable and content in their repose. Lyra smiled; the setup was perfect to let her take a bit of harmless payback for being dragged out of bed so early.
“Rise and shine, motherbuckers!” Lyra shouted as a surge of mental exertion activated her telekinesis, grabbing ahold of her victims and tumbling them the short distance out of bed, sending them to the floor with dual thuds that echoed through the house. Innocently, she walked over to where her nearest target had landed in a tangle of grey limbs, long black hair, and enough expletives to make Lyra feel particularly proud. “Good morning, Octy,” she called brightly. “Did you sleep well?”
“Oh, wonderfully,” Octavia grumbled as she rose slowly to her hooves to glare at Lyra. “You are truly a good friend. Remind me to help plan your funeral when this is done.”
The sound of hoofsteps from the hallway heralded the arrival of more ponies on the scene as Cobalt, Melody, Radiant and Silver Strings all responded in various degrees of sleepiness and confusion. Letting their questions spill over her, Octavia briefly checked on Vinyl, who was worryingly quiet for her. She was still snoring, a euphoric expression plastered over her muzzle as she lay sprawled on the floor. Reassured, Octavia turned to the crowd of ponies who had now invaded her bedroom. “Everypony, this is Vinyl and I’s friend, Lyra Heartstrings,” she said by way of introduction. “She’s helping with the wedding tomorrow. I have no idea why she decided to come and throw me out of bed. Now, I have to go use the bathroom. Why don’t you all get acquainted? And maybe one of you can see if they can wake Vinyl up.”
“Urk,” Vinyl grunted as Rarity tightened the fabric of the dress around her midsection. Her ribs felt like they were going to snap like Octavia’s cello strings when she practiced too much. “Holy hay, if this gets any tighter I’m gonna pass out before we say the vows.”
“That might not be so bad,” Lyra countered from her vantage point, leaning on the counter and watching Vinyl’s last fitting. “Octavia might have a better time on the honeymoon with you unconscious.”
“For the record, I prefer Vinyl conscious. She’s much more malleable that way,” Octavia chimed in from her seated position as she waited somewhat patiently for Vinyl’s fitting to be over.
“I suppose that makes sense,” Lyra retorted. “Marshmallow-flanks is probably too heavy for Octavia to mare-handle.”
“Hey! Just ‘cause I’m white and soft doesn’t make a marshmallow!” Vinyl objected plaintively.
“I dunno,” Lyra debated. “According to reliable sources, you taste good when coated in chocolate.”
“Ahem,” Rarity pointedly interrupted. Sewing needled clenched between her teeth, she turned to regard both mares calmly. “I do beg your pardon, but I am trying to concentrate here. This is delicate and artistic work, after all.”
“Sorry,” Lyra apologized with an easy and entirely unrepentant smile. “I didn’t mean to get under your coat.”
“I have nothing against passion,” Rarity continued as she turned her attention back to the dress, sewing needle flashing at worrying speeds past Vinyl’s skin. “I am merely trying to avoid unnecessary distractions. We are on a deadline, after all.”
“We know how tight the schedule is, Rarity. We could never tell you how incredibly grateful for all of your help in pulling this together,” Octavia said. “We could have gone clear to Canterlot and not found a better designer and seamstress than you.”
“Don’t mention it, darling. It’s my pleasure to contribute, however slightly, to the loving union of two ponies such as yourselves,” Rarity said, flattered enough that her smile sparkled like the diamonds adorning her flanks.
“That’s fine and all, but do you think you could maybe keep an eye on what you’re doing?” Vinyl asked worriedly as Rarity’s needle passed at high speed past her skin, ruffling her coat with each pass even as the seamstress’ attention was locked onto the other mares in the room.
Rarity didn’t even bother concealing her un-ladylike snort. “Please, give me some credit. It is more likely that you would forget how to produce your music than that I would accidentally prick you.”
“Ow!” Vinyl yelped as the wickedly sharp tip of the silvery needle lightly jabbed her on the side, not even breaking the skin. “What the hay, Rarity?” she demanded as she twisted her neck, trying to see if she was bleeding from the grievous wound.
“On the other hoof, it is very likely that I might administer a punitive measure to a difficult patron,” Rarity said smugly, fully focused on her efforts to finish a difficult hem.
“Hmph,” Vinyl complained. “What was that for?”
“Oh, she doesn’t really need a reason,” Octavia said with a grin she didn’t even bother to conceal. “I’m sure that you’ve done something to deserve being punished for, anyways.”
“Oh?” Lyra asked with an entirely-too-interested grin. “Why don’t you tell us more about this ‘punishment’?”
“Lyra—“Octavia interrupted.
“Does it involve whips and chains?”
“Lyra—“
“Or hoofcuffs?”
“Lyra—“
“Or maybe a bridle? Those are fun,” Lyra babbled on without concern or shame.
“Lyra!” Rarity, Octavia and Vinyl shouted in unison, each completely unwilling to hear any more about the perverted lyrist’s version of “fun.”
“What?” Lyra asked innocently. “Can’t a mare be curious?”
Rarity’s eye held a threatening gleam as she regarded Lyra with very forced patience. “Lyra, darling, I have nothing but admiration for your relationship with Bon-Bon. However, I would prefer to not hear about the more . . . intimate details.”
“Why?” Lyra asked cheekily. “You might learn something.”
Rarity only smiled, and Lyra never noticed the faint glow of magic that infused several scraps of discarded fabric littering the floor of the Carousel Boutique. She did, however, notice when those bits of fabric wrapped around her muzzle in a blur, effectively silencing her. “Ummph . . . hmmph mmph,” she grunted in annoyance as she futilely pawed at the tensile bonds with her hooves.
“I would be considerably more satisfied with this arrangement if I didn’t suspect that she would enjoy this under other circumstances,” Rarity observed dryly. “Still, at least this way I should be able to finish this in relative silence.”
Octavia glanced sideways at Lyra, who was sitting with a pouty expression on her face, having given up on dislodging the strips of fabric around her muzzle. Rarity’s magic had transformed them into a solid band that was more resilient than steel and twice as strong. Of course, Lyra’s own magic could have undone them with a little effort, but she apparently hadn’t made that mental leap. Or else she really was enjoying the impromptu bit of restraint. Either way, she was being quiet and seemed mostly content with the situation. “Remind me to tell Bon-Bon to keep her on a shorter leash in the future,” Octavia said.
“Careful, Octy,” Vinyl sniggered. “Don’t give her any ideas.”
“For Celestia’s sake,” Rarity groused as she put the final few stitches into Vinyl’s dress. “Does anypony have any sense decency or decorum? If you must indulge in lechery, then at least save it for the bachelorette party.”
That statement seemed to dislodge something in Lyra’s brain. “Mmph mmph mmhm!” she grunted determinedly, waving her hooves excitedly as she tried to get their attention.
“She certainly seems earnest about something,” Octavia said uncertainly. “Do you think we should let her talk?”
Rarity’s needle flashed a final time through the artful fabric adorning Vinyl’s body and Rarity stepped back triumphantly to eye her work. Nodding in satisfaction, she turned to regard Octavia happily. “We may as well, darling. My fabulous creation is finished!”
“About time,” Vinyl said gratefully. “My hooves were starting to hurt from standing here.”
‘I’d say it was more than worth it,” Octavia said as she rose to her hooves. She inspected her betrothed carefully, amethyst eyes roving across every inch of Vinyl’s body. The flowing dress of dove-grey hugged her form perfectly, emphasizing and concealing as necessary. Gentle blue highlights that echoed the lighter shade of her mane marked the hems of the dress, forming a flowing tracery. Octavia was fairly sure that she stopped short of drooling, but only just.
Her approval did not go unnoticed. Lyra only looked on with her usual grin while Rarity was practically dancing on her hooves waiting for a final verdict. “Well, darlings, how do you like it?” she asked in a voice that masterfully concealed the trepidation of an artist revealing her efforts. Her voice couldn’t, however, conceal the slight twitch of her left eye or the slightly manic grin. “It is simply divine, is it not?”
“I—um—yes,” Octavia stuttered before managing to take her eyes off of Vinyl. “Yes, it’s gorgeous.”
“Hehehe,” Vinyl giggled like a schoolfilly at Octavia’s stunned expression. “Did I act like that when I saw Octy in her dress?”
“If I recall correctly, you stood there for a good 30 seconds without moving or saying anything. When Lyra asked you what you were thinking, you blushed a deeper red than your eyes. I actually considered using the shade as an accent for you dress,” Rarity answered brightly. “It was rather . . . romantic, truthfully.”
“Oh. Um, well,” Vinyl flailed, trying to preserve a part of her dignity. “It was your fault for making her look so good,” she finished lamely.
“Mmph!” Lyra interjected again, motioning at her bound muzzle with imploring forehooves.
“Oh, alright,” Rarity sighed as she focused on undoing her magic. “Behave.” The narrow strips of fabric binding Lyra’s salacious tongue unwound themselves as if possessed of their own minds, spooling into orderly rolls.
“I almost forgot!” Lyra spouted as soon as her mouth was free. “Bon-Bon and I wanted to do the bachelorette party for you two tonight!” she exclaimed with a zeal normally reserved for the fanatical and the insane.
“Lyra, what—“Octavia began to protest.
“Aw yeah!” Vinyl exclaimed with undisguised glee. “Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!”
Octavia applied hoof to face, knowing that she should have predicted Vinyl’s reaction. The DJ was probably the last pony in Equestria to ever turn down a party. The quieter life of Ponyville had calmed her down a little bit, but not that much. Even the thought of Vinyl’s usual drunken antics was starting to give her a headache. Still, she usually managed to enjoy herself too, even if she regretted it later. A small smile crept across her face as she nodded agreement. “That does sound like it might be fun. A harmless distraction from all the stress of wedding planning couldn’t possibly cause any harm, after all.”
“I’m not much of an expert on these matters,” Octavia said aloud as she walked with Vinyl, Lyra, and Bon-Bon through the moonlight-spackled streets of Ponyville. “But aren’t there normally separate bachelorette and bachelor parties?”
“Well, yeah,” Vinyl answered. “But Ponyville’s only got one bar, ya know.”
“Plus, you’re both technically the bachelorettes, so we only actually need one party,” Lyra chimed in. “Makes things a lot simpler for everypony, huh?”
“If you say so,” Octavia agreed. “I suppose you two would be the experts, after all.” If anypony would know about parties and bars and the festivities that would go on there, it would certainly be Vinyl. She seemed to be the most excited as the bar in question loomed into sight further down the quiet street. It occurred to Octavia that she ought to be a little nervous about venturing into an unfamiliar establishment. On the other hoof, working at a night club in Canterlot had probably girded her against the worst that small-town Ponyville could offer. Living with Vinyl had rendered her immune to the rest.
“Experts on getting into trouble, maybe,” Bon-Bon said with a good-natured laugh as they drew close enough to see the small crowd of mostly stallions lingering outside. The group of mares attracted a few stares, but nopony did anything worse than smile or nod silently.
“Aw, sounds like somepony’s got a stick up her rump,” Vinyl lightly mocked.
“Nah, that’s only on Tuesdays,” Lyra chimed in.
“That was officially too much information, Lyra,” Octavia groused at the mint mare’s input as they finally arrived at their destination, ignoring the assembled stallions as they ambled past them.
“I’m not sure I want to deal with you drunk,” Bon-Bon said. “You’re bad enough when you’re sober.”
“I don’t hear much denial from you, sweet-stuff,” Lyra said cockily. “I guess you must not mind putting up with me too much. Even on Tuesdays.”
“I’m more partial to Thursday’s myself,” Bon-Bon said as she pulled the door open for her friends. “Now get inside and don’t make too much of a scene.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lyra replied with an ironic salute as she slipped inside, quickly followed by the rest of her companions.
Octavia’s eyes adjusted quickly to the dark interior; the lights inside hardly even rivaled the bright moon that had illuminated their walk. It was a quiet crowd, with barely a dozen ponies nursing their drinks singly or in small groups and a pair of unicorns playing a heated game of pool in the corner; typical for a weeknight when most ponies had to be at work the next morning. At least, it had been quiet until Vinyl showed up. “Yo, barkeep,” she hollered across the bar in a dulcet tone that had all the gentleness of breaking glass, “Set up some shots for me and my mares!”
“Whad’ya want?” he called back, already laying out the glasses.
“Bacolti 151 should do the trick,” Vinyl answered, confidently striding towards the promised elixir of the gods.
If anypony in the bar wasn’t paying attention to them after Vinyl’s trademark entrance, Octavia didn’t see them. Still, she ignored them and followed dutifully after Vinyl. This was already beginning to sound like a bad idea to the more dignified Octavia, but she was committed now. She sat down gingerly at the bar, ignoring the expectant gazes of the ponies around her who sensed a spectacle in the making. Vinyl joined her on the right while Lyra and Bon-Bon pulled up stools to her left; she herself peered down uncertainly at the small glass of clear alcohol, wrinkling her nose at the smell of it. She had smelled lighter fluid that was more appealing. “I’m not sure I’m up for something so potent, Vinyl.”
Vinyl only grinned at her with the infuriating expression that meant that she was going to get exactly what she wanted and she knew it. “Alright, Treble Clef. You can just have a nice, lame fruity drink if you don’t think you can keep up with me. Otherwise, I dare you to do a dozen of these with me.”
The laughter and chortling from the surrounding ponies mixed with Octavia’s own stung pride, producing a decent substitute for alcohol’s liquid courage. She felt heat creeping to her face as he wrapped a hoof around the shot before her, throwing it back in a single motion. It burned like fire down her throat and it felt like a flaming serpent was slithering through her stomach within mere seconds. She held back a choking cough as she slammed the glass back down onto the table and looked at Vinyl with a challenging expression. “Oh, it is on,” she announced, already reaching for the next shot.
Bon-Bon watched on with horrified fascination as they began matching shot for shot. After a few more, she turned to Lyra, who was also watching with rapt interest. “This is going to end badly, isn’t it?” she asked concernedly.
“Oh, yeah,” Lyra answered with more hope than concern. “This is gonna be good.”
“Ten bits says one or both of them get thrown out,” Bon-Bon wagered.
“You’re on,” Lyra accepted.
“How in Celestia’s name did this happen?” Octavia asked, burying her face into her hooves as she sat on the cold stone floor of Ponyville’s small jail hours after Vinyl’s dare. Her mane, normally well-kept and elegant, was unkempt and erratic as it fell forward to conceal her expression from her companions.
“Well, first Vinyl dared you to do a dozen shots with her,” said one of the cramped cell’s other occupants, a mare and unicorn with a coat of green, tilting her head in thought as she reached back through the dim haze of alcohol-impaired memories.
“That was a rhetorical question, Lyra,” Octavia protested as she feebly massaged her temples.
“And then you each started to down as many hard ciders as you could after Vinyl said she was the better drinker,” continued the third mare in the cramped space, a beige earth pony with a tail and mane of curled blue and pink streaks that bounced with a jaunty spring as she moved her head. “You were both a good sixteen glasses in when you decided to start making out at the bar. You two actually started to get pretty heavy before the Guards showed up and arrested us for public intoxication and indecency. But I guess you technically won, since Vinyl is out cold,” she said, shrugging philosophically.
Turning, Lyra gently poked the white-and-blue mass that vaguely resembled a pony lying on the floor and which comprised the fourth and final mare present. It snorted and began snoring in response to the prodding. “Yup, she’s still out. Bon-Bon’s right, Octy; you are officially a better drinker than Vinyl. Though don’t expect her to take it gracefully.”
Octavia stared, mouth agape. “How are you two so blasé about this? We are in prison on the day before Vinyl and I’s wedding!” she demanded. “This is a catastrophe,” she moaned as she cradled her head in her forehooves.
“Technically, this is jail. Prison is a lot more serious. And make that the day of your wedding,” Lyra pointed out as she gestured towards the barred window, through which the first tentative rays of dawn were leaking. “And we’re so blasé ‘cause, hey, it ain’t our once-in-a-lifetime special day getting royally bucked up.”
“Lyra Heartstrings!” Bon-Bon exclaimed with a scowl directed towards the source of her ire, “I know you’re just trying to lighten the mood with sarcasm, but do us the all a favor and don’t. Think of poor Octavia before you go running your mouth at a time like this.”
“You don’t normally mind my mouth—“
“Don’t even start with that,” Bon-Bon interrupted, rolling her eyes.
Lyra sighed, her sides heaving before she laid a gentle forehoof on Octavia’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Octy. I’m sure everything’ll be ok.”
“Ok? Ok! How in the name of lunacy will any of this be ‘ok’?” Octavia demanded.
Lyra shrugged. “Well, at least it can’t get any worse.”
Bon-Bon sighed and covered her face with her hoof. “Lyra, dear, I know you’re just trying to make Octavia feel better . . . but please stop. Your brand of “comfort” isn’t helping right now.”
“No, she’s right, Bon-Bon,” Octavia said as she shifted uncomfortably on the stone floor, wrapping her tail around herself for security. “It really can’t get any worse. Unless Vinyl dies of alcohol poisoning. Or Nightmare Moon, Discord and Queen Chrysalis team up to conquer Equestria. Or Princess Celestia outlaws same-sex marriages today.” She laughed, just a touch of hysteria creeping into her tone that sent Bon-Bon scooting an unconscious inch away from her. “I mean, there’s not much else that could go wrong, is there? We’re already in bucking jail on my bucking wedding day, my bucking fiancée is bucking unconscious; there’s not much else that could bucking go wrong!”
“Jeez, Octy, where’d you get that mouth of yours? You said ‘bucking’ like six times,” Lyra asked with a raised eyebrow. She snickered. “Personally, I recommend you save it for the honeymoon.”
“Lyra, that’s just rude! What is wrong with you today?” Bon-Bon yelled with flattened ears and a glare.
“That’s assuming there is a honeymoon,” Octavia interjected morosely. “Oh, Luna; what will our parents say? So much effort and planning has gone into this wedding; to have it ruined now would be horrible, let alone by something so utterly ridiculous.”
“Well then, darling, wouldn’t you say it is remarkably fortunate to have generous friends?” asked a melodious voice from beyond the stark bars of the cell.
“Rarity!” Octavia exclaimed as she rushed to the door to meet her savior. “Oh, thank Celestia! I’m so sorry to call you for this, but I didn’t have anypony else.”
“Well, I detest going out in public without taking the time to apply my makeup and properly attend to my mane, and it is a positively ghastly hour of the morning to be out and about,” Rarity said despite looking fabulous enough to make a supermodel weep. “And, I won’t lie; I was more than little shocked to hear that you, of all ponies, needed to be bailed out of jail.”
Octavia flushed with embarrassment, flattening her ears and looking away. “I know, Rarity. I’m sorry that I had to drag you into this.”
Rarity sighed, even her resignation somehow managing to sound elegant. “Well, we all have our little indiscretions now and then,” she said gently. “It’s simply a part of life. Remind me to tell you the story of how Applejack and I got arrested in Canterlot after a shopping trip gone horribly wrong. I’m sure it would cheer you up. Now, come on; I’ve paid your bail and we have a wedding to get ready for!"