> The Course of the Moon
>  by slightlyshade
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> A
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Cool air drifted in from some nook or cranny and the tower was quiet. The laughter of the day had long faded and all who were awake now were occupied indoors. It's just how Moon Dancer liked it, and she studied hardest when there was nothing around to distract her. Scribbling away on a promising formula, she was certain it would not be much longer. 

Twilight had warned her about combining ancillary spells such as Haycart's and the high level Inspiration Incantation from its companion treatise, but through the aid of herbal teas and the odd lullaby spell she knew she could manage. Indeed, she tweaked these necessary physical needs wherever possible. Instead of bothering with the brewing of tea, and waiting for it to cool down, she instead fast-froze the leaves and so pulverised them with ice. It was a potent drink, but as her magic demanded more from her, so too she required more nutriment.

In the upper library, the solutions came to her easily, and breakthrough followed puzzle and puzzle followed breakthrough in quick succession. Within as little as a week she would unlock the Cosmic Constant; hypothetical limiter of the Transmutative Tendence, as theorised by Starswirl the Bearded aeons ago.

Still, though her mind had hardly felt atoil or weary, as she bowed over the book of numbers an odd noise had joined the room sound of the library and the reverb of her own ears. It was a deep vibration that had the queer qualities of an earthquake, and yet the tower did not shake. She cast a Detect Displacement spell and verified it: nothing moved. It must be in my own head, she thought to herself. 

Returning to her work, the slight vibration remained, gnawing on her concentration until she was forced once more to push aside the tomes and acknowledge it. Well then, she considered, perhaps it's just that I've been alone here for over a week. They always said it was unhealthy to do such a thing, they being ponies who could hardly tell a Star Sigil from a Saddle Arabian Ground Glyph, but nonetheless...

She paced the upstairs library and peered outside. The tower's biggest window was right there, on the top floor, and it spanned half of the large dome itself, climbing all the way up to the spire's ceiling. The colour of this sky, greyish blue, was her favourite. The sound was really more of a hum than a vibration, she decided, and it became all the more likely its source was somewhere inside her own body.

Considering an Illuminate Infiltration cantrip from her Casters' Compendium, the viridian tome's various potative components reminded her - for the third time that day - of the incident with Lemon Hearts, but two weeks prior. 



On a bright afternoon she cantered Gleamstreet, stocking up on supplies and preparing for a meeting with Minuette and Lemon Hearts. It had not bothered her particularly to meet up with the pair, as she knew they would be able to talk aplenty without much need for her to speak. She could even work on her studies, using a notebook or a Mental Memo.

Gleamstreet was full of shopping ponies that could not have been avoided, for she herself was in use of the shops' opening hours. Street musicians musiced their melodicas and tambourines; A-list couples pulled up their noses at the above-average restaurants; a silver-cloaked filly scurried up the spiral stairs behind the Big Buns Bakery. She wondered where those stairs took her. The streets were full of these stairs and passages between and overarching the shops. It gave the impression that everywhere in Canterlot there were these hidden clubs of ponies, meeting always in secret.

Minuette had suggested Donut Joe's, as she always did when it was her turn to choose their meeting spot, but when Moon Dancer trotted up to the oddly dim windows of Joe's, she saw that it was closed. A note read, JOE'S GOT TO GO. HEY NOW DON'T YOU BE LOW. JOE'S BACK TOMORROW. She looked up over her shoulder and winced as she caught a faceful of sun. I'm an hour early too, she thought to herself, cursing her tendency to be so prudent with the time.

It was too hot simply to wait for an hour at Donut Joe's doorstep, yet she was burdened by two sacks of apple-crumble clusters and did not at all fancy trotting around Canterlot Centre in a heap of sweat and broken muscle - especially not around the noisy faire or the other big shopping streets. She looked to the small alley to the side of Joe's and thought, If I can put a ward on my supplies and stow them in some corner nopony will find them. I just have to make sure I don't trip anypony up or get spotted. 

But she did not get spotted slinking into the alley. It was dark and smelly, insofar as Canterlot alleys could truly be smelly, and she had to press against the wall to pass garbage containers and stacks of empty peach crates. At the end of the alley there was a little back door that bore the logo of some high-end shop, and it amused Moon Dancer to think of the prim and proper couturists shuffling through the alley every day. 

Halfway through the alley a little door appeared on her left, its dilapidated wooden frame barely keeping itself upright. She thought of her luggage - indeed, it was heavy enough that it did not truly leave her mind - and considered the space behind the door, thinking it perhaps a little court for Donut Joe to stash his newly arrived ingredients, or else dump his leftovers. Then, curiously, she became aware of a soft, drawling sound just beyond the door. There was something breathing inside the court; possibly an animal on the hunt, or somepony nursing an injury.

Instinctively Moon Dancer turned her ward on herself, shielding her from unfocused eyes. Upon performing the silent spell she reasoned there could well be trouble behind the door, and yes, she did not especially fancy the idea of being seen by anypony that cantered past the alley.

The door was in such a dismal state that many of its rotten boards were worn down to frayed splinters, here and there dusty crannies and other tiny holes. Moon Dancer pressed close to the door, shifting her face as she searched for a suitable peephole. Peeking through, she could see it was indeed a grassy little court, though the half-shaded grass was weed-ridden and sparse among dirty cobblestones. Almost certainly, just outside her view big dustbins would further sully what could well have been a lovely little garden. 

Deep yellow suddenly blocked her view, pushed so close that she leapt back in alarm, a hoof pushed to her mouth. There was a harsh, muffled gasp then, and she knew somepony lurked just around the corner. She knew there was nothing good that could come from it, but she could not turn away: she was afraid both of drawing attention to herself, but more than that she was compelled by the fear of what lay behind the door.

The yellow had drawn away from the door just enough for her to recognise it as a shoulder, bobbing hypnotically.  The breathing had accelerated, stopping now and then as the pony swallowed, and Moon Dancer thought, It's going somewhere, like a launch. Is somepony behind the door working up the courage then to inflict pain or practice some forbidden magic?

Willing the door not to creak she transmuted the door, sliding it open not from the loose-looking knob but instead its very hinges, carefully maintaining a constant draw. In this brief moment she prepared herself for just about anything, though she could not picture anything specific. She kept her breathing down and remembered her ward, knowing that to forget one's own ward meant to break its protection. 

Lemon Hearts? She could not believe it was truly her friend, pushed back against the wall. She was so close to Moon Dancer that, despite her intentions, she almost jumped back. Her embarrassment spread from her, watching the pony's hoof move between her haunches at lightning speed. She could not see her face, but the breaths were rapid, gripping lessons of the true nature of embarrassment, for she could not look away. Slowly she bowed over her friend's shoulder, and light bounced off of glass or gemstone. Lemon Hearts groaned and it was a sound so strained and pathetic that Moon Dancer was terrified of it; very nearly she tumbled over her and broke out laughing, but despite such strange temptations still she restrained them and remembered her magic.

Lemon Hearts was pushing a beaker inside her privacy; squeezing the mouth of it inside somehow without injury to self. She emitted the smell of rusty sweat or blood - it was something gross she wasn't supposed to smell. No, it was an injury, Moon Dancer decided, and she thought, It can only be an injury that drives somepony to do such a thing, and that even outside of one's own home. She's... she's...

But Moon Dancer could not conclude what her friend was doing; where she was going, and she leaned over her friend puzzled and ashamed, seeing the tension and counter-tension grow - ebb and tide cascading into a tornado of back-and-forth - so an explosion was the only possible way she could end. But she did not explode; slowly she landed again and calmed down, the sound of freshly-washed glass rubbed as an anchor to her stifled breath. Suddenly Lemon Hearts looked up and said, 'There's nopony there, is there?' and Moon Dancer galloped out through the alley in a cheetah's sprint, thinking only of her shrouding ward.



She had not imagined masturbation to be like that. In fact, the entirety of sex already seemed to her little but an abundance of physical altercation, but that at least to her guess involved but a hoof or a penis. Alternatively it would be another mare's touch, but this must surely be even worse. She experienced wet dreams regularly enough, but though she woke up relaxed and dirty she could not remember what she dreamed of. It was but the body releasing its natural tension, but now she saw what kind of tension truly was possible, and the discovery disturbed her mightily.

As a substitution for the closed Donut Joe's, Minuette suggested this posh tea place called the Rose Garden, nestled between the Gleamstreet shops and the parallel Candlelane. During this eventual meeting Moon Dancer had not a chance to catch a word of conversation. Though Minuette discussed a great many things - largely talking to herself, it seemed - every thing sounded like another language to her. Maybe it was as the vibration she heard now, and that was what had in fact reminded her of the curious happenstance. Indeed, she was afraid at that time to look in the direction of Lemon Hearts, sure that if she did their eyes would meet instantly and she would know her secret. She herself knew her friend's secret, and now she felt complicit to it.

When at last she returned to her studies she made remarkable progress. The truth was that the encounter had given her some inspiration: to break the Transmutative Tendence would require more than speed alone; no, the pressure required to push past the limitations of magic itself would need to do more than push forward even in a rhythmic continuity. Surely such an approach had been attempted before, but what of a force wave that increased even its own acceleration? It would be as a powerful pony pushing against a door and each pony they would call for help would do so as well. It would be an eventuality-infinite of power, and yet there would be no recoil from such a wave, as it was made up of no single catalyst, and there would be nothing to break it. It was this magic she was creating, and it was this magic that she carried with her to bed.














> B
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Moon Dancer had forgotten in her studies her appointment at the Proprietor's Sanctuary Café (Minuette called it the PPS Café for some reason), and until the Mental Memo reminded her she had planned for a full day of work. 'Figures,' she said to herself, 'if there's nopony else to disturb my study it'll be me, myself.'

Getting ready, there was no need for her to change her underwear. She slipped into her chequered blouse and rubbed her glasses with its sleeves, ready to go. Let's get this over with, she thought, trotting to her destination.  

Faintly she remembered the Proprietor's Sanctuary Café from some dreadful school engagement; remembered being in the shadows behind some pillar, wishing she knew some magic that would hide her entirely. She tried to find the corner in question, but as she slid around the café, she found there were altogether too many pillars and similarly looking tables to do so. Ivy spun along the trellis roof and many groups of chattering students demanded in some way her attention. 'That's why I always say you have to pick your battles,' a proud young stallion remarked to an impressionable friend, 'and remember that even when you know you're right, you don't always have to prove it.'

Typical of a truly arrogant pony, Moon Dancer thought to herself, finding it possible even to brag of one's humility. Ignoring the other customers as best she could, she soon located her table. Four upturned glasses marked the reservation, and a big bottle of spring water stood ready.

'Ah there you are!' Minuette called behind her, right as she sat down. Her smile beamed with the delight of anticipation, and she wore a thin green blouse with a button on it picturing a leaf. It must have been a membership token of her new explorers' club. 'I missed you!'

Waving off the hug, Moon Dancer said, 'It's only been a week or so.'

'Two weeks...'

'It's only been two weeks or so - wait, I thought you'd be coming with Twinkleshine?'

Minuette giggled nervously, fondling the little menu card. Then she said, 'I kind of invited her brother instead.' Then she waved towards the bar and, at last bidden to reveal himself, a sleek looking black unicorn in long sleeves strode towards their table.

Taking the seat opposite of Moon Dancer, he promptly bowed his head towards her and, peering over his sheeny glasses, he said, 'Yeah, Twinkle couldn't make it. I'm sorry if Minnie already said so, I couldn't quite hear everything from where I was - not that I was eavesdropping in particular or anything, but anyway, yeah, Twinkle had to visit her friend Lyra in Ponyville. Not sure why exactly, but she did say something was up suddenly.'

'I'm sure if it was serious, she would've said more,' Minuette assured, 'so let's not worry about it.' 

'Having fun without me?'

Lemon Hearts shuffled in from the toilets and immediately Moon Dancer thought of her peeing; wondered even if she had already seen her pee in the vial. But surely this was nothing but an errant - and most definitely inappropriate - fantasy. 

Moon Dancer mumbled the traditional courtesies, and soon they ordered their drinks and bites. She was profoundly irritated by the presence of Twinkleshine's brother Bell Point, for he had the maddening tendency of including her in their conversations, oftentimes exactly when she had lost track of whatever it was that Minuette or Lemon Hearts had gone on about. 

'Don't you hate that too?' he asked her presently, and she pretended to be chewing some of the salt-heavy radish fritters, gesturing ambivalently to buy time.

'I'm sure, in fact,' he went on in his smooth drawl, 'that you have all sorts of secrets.'

She choked on her imaginary food, thinking once more of Lemon Hearts and the beaker. She quickly said, 'I'm about to develop this magic that would break the Cosmic Constant and exceed what magic could be possible of; remove all boundaries of space and time and magic itself; usher forth a never-ending age of possibility!' 

'That's Moon Dancer,' Minuette said cheerfully, 'always so ambitious and stuff! I'm so proud of you Moon Dancer! I hope we'll still get to hang out when you're too powerful for this world!'

'Of course we will,' Moon Dancer replied, retreating from her sudden exclamation. She had not intended to so brashly speak her mind: between the incident with Lemon Hearts and Bell Point's prying investigation she had become volatile and unusually defensive. She recognised this in herself and resolved not to speak of these things again. Gazing at her fritters, she clarified her position in a more political light: 'Besides, I'll be way too busy refining the magic to be able to leave Canterlot. Or if I do leave, I'll at least have to leave a Consciousness Clone behind for ponies to interact with and to annotate my studies in this plane.' 

'That's quite a secret,' Bell Point said at last, 'though I guess now that you've told it it's not really a secret anymore.'

'I try not to keep secrets,' Lemon Hearts opined with a giggle, 'they get me in trouble.'

Moon Dancer jumped up again, her thoughts still confined to that of a future Canterlot. 'Secrets? Who said anything about secrets?' 

She hid in a murmur of balderdash, Minuette and Bell Point soon covering her tracks with some trivial talk about their education. Hurry, time, she commanded, and whisk me away to somewhere quiet and anonymous. But as they completed their meal, Minuette suggested, 'Why don't we go check out the faire? It'll be a blast!' And she looked around the table in search of that same excited smile that she had made her trademark. 

Before Moon Dancer could think of anything to say, Lemon Hearts mumbled, 'I actually have a bit of a headache, but you guys have fun for me, okay?' And so, Moon Dancer could not possibly extricate herself with a similar excuse. Off to the faire it was.



Lights flashed though it was still afternoon enough, organs recited marine mainstays, and ponies - so many ponies - tousled and tussled and tucked between and everywhere else. Minuette had lead the two of them to the claw machines at the perimeter of the Festivity Faire, and she insisted Moon Dancer would try and extract some plush parakeets for her. 

Behind her, Bell Point was telling them about his job as a receptionist, dealing with dignitaries and other demanding ponies. As she had tried her hoof at the machine, he said, 'It's not really so exciting, really, most of the time you just have to ignore how important they are and treat them like a normal pony. Once I met the sister of one of Celestia's most trusted aides, and she wanted a huge suite with two beds, and I had to assure her it wasn't impertinent of her to do so.' 

'Yeah, Twilight does that sort of thing too,' Minuette remarked as Moon Dancer pushed her flank against the machine. 'Cause she doesn't want ponies to fuss about her and make special arrangements.'

'You mean Twilight Sparkle?' Bell Point marvelled. 'You girls know the princess?' He continued to look uncertainly at Moon Dancer's claw abilities, processing this new fact. He had always wondered what sort of ponies Twinkleshine knew, and if they in turn knew any celebrities. It was something that came to him automatically, much as he always asked of himself when a guest trotted up to the reception who they were and what they expected from a reception. At last, when Minuette took over the claw machine, he said, 'I've heard that Princess Twilight is actually a rather awkward pony in the flesh.' 

Minuette grunted something that neither confirmed nor denied the notion, and he continued: 'Apparently, she's so busy studying that sometimes she forgets how to talk to ponies. That's what I've heard.'

Unable to contain her thoughts, Moon Dancer said, 'She's actually very forward and, uh, easy-going, and not awkward at all. And yes, her understanding of magic may be second to none, but it's not like she doesn't know how to dance - that's a fabrication.' She wanted to bury her words, though they were not untrue. Did he realise how much of what she was was because of Twilight? Without her, she thought, I would be in the Canterlot Library, or trying to renovate my old home. Nopony would dare say hello to me. And I would be glad of it, too.

'Ah. I see.' He turned to Minuette, but she was much too concentrated to provide any input on the matter. A fanfare honked and trumpeted somewhere behind them, beyond the cotton candy maze, and none of them spoke. Moon Dancer's thoughts so turned to the party that Twilight had thrown her, and the world seemed to her a terribly fragile place. The mere concept of losing somepony... it was unthinkable. 

When at last the sound had shuffled off to a more appreciable volume, Bell Point looked at Moon Dancer and waited. She had to wonder if her emotions had shown, but then he remarked, 'I wonder what Lemon Hearts is doing instead of going to the faire.'

Moon Dancer immediately jumped to Lemon Hearts' bedroom, which she recalled being very orange, and saw her there on the bed, pushing various potions and vials up her vagina. It made her grimace. She knew also that she was expected to respond to Bell Point's comment, so she quickly cried, 'I have no idea!'

The lights of all two-dozen or so claw machines flashed blue, green, yellow, and pink - it reminded her of the headache Lemon Hearts was supposed to have. She questioned herself regarding her secret; if it could be that Bell Point and Minuette already knew. Would they talk about these things behind her back and tease her in such a way as they could be right now? Could it be possible also that masturbation and sex would be a perfectly natural topic for them to discuss? If this was true, it was no wonder Bell Point spoke so openly about Twilight: maybe they had barely any reservations at all.

'Will you look at that,' Minuette cheered, 'it took me less than ten tries! Told you it's worth the time to learn how to do it!' She held out her fuzzy little parakeet proudly.



She spent too much time with the pair of them. It must have been Bell Point who had suggested this lounge just outside the faire's grounds called the Crystal Cove, home to a hazy mist and several ponies cradling bongs or else glued to the cushioned couches. It was an atmosphere that instantly made Moon Dancer impatient and fretful. She thought, Doesn't he have anything better to do than waste his time here? I know Minuette doesn't, but not everypony can be like her.  

They had shared a jug of the local iced tea - it was served with a saucer full of tangerine slices - and for much of the time Minuette and Bell Point had leant against each other on the tall couch opposite Moon Dancer like bored siblings. 'That's what I always said -' Bell Point giggled softly between words '- you have to watch your breathing when you're done working out or even when you're stressed out or anything. Minnie! Stop hogging the pipe!'

There hung a huge smile on Minuette's lips upon slurping the nozzle. 'Tastes like summer,' she wheezed.

In slow motion, they tussled until Minuette at last relinquished the bong. Moon Dancer could not but picture them being terribly red and sweaty under their clothes, burning with arousal. It disgusted her to catch herself thinking such things; the mere thought of their privates made her gag. She needed to escape, but there she was, held in place as though she too had been sedated.

'Think of it like a beach and the sea rolling in, wave by wave,' Bell Point crooned, 'every wave is a breath, and every single one will follow another, and again another... it doesn't end at all.'



It did bother her that she had wasted the day on social obligations and neglected her study, but still Moon Dancer returned to her work as though she had not missed a step. It's because my mind is still fresh, she thought, but I need to clean up the tower at some point as well. In fact she was not proud of cluttering the tower as much as she did, but as she did not have a convenient dragon assistant to keep up with these sort of things it fell on her to find the time for such trivial tasks. At one point Minuette had showed up at the tower, waving to her from just outside the kitchen window, and she had to make up some excuse as to why she could not let her friend in, for she did not like ponies to think she was a filthy shut-in: there was nothing wrong with spending time in the comfort of one's home.

Postponing those housekeeping responsibilities, she focused in on the larger matter, resolving to pick away at the Tendence through several adjacent formulae, knowing an opening would inevitably present itself. Her path tore through several tomes about renewing sources of magic, knowing these objects and spells would serve her to create an endless avalanche of pressure - or at least understand better their founding principles.

Somepony rapped the door downstairs and Moon Dancer jumped up, seeing at once through the vast window that it was night. So that faint ringing must have been the bell, she thought, and not the faint vibration of before. But who could it be, standing at the door at this hour?

The rapping resumed and Moon Dancer was halfway down the spiral staircase. Too quietly she called, 'I'll be right there,' quite certain that it could not be equinely possible to get downstairs before visitors would give up on anypony ever answering the door. 

Just as she reached for the door knob, a low voice boomed, 'I'll be right back,' and before she realised what she was doing, Moon Dancer had opened the door. Nopony stood behind the door and quickly she peeked around the corners. Nopony was in the tower's garden, but then it was a large garden she had not spent any time on keeping. Wild plants had overtaken much of what was once, presumably, a light, flowery sort of affair. 

'Who's there?' she called out, her voice receding into the night. Dark clouds had gathered overhead and she could not see very well in front of her. She waited for a response to come, but still there was nothing.

Afraid, she thought of some other thing she could be expected to ask of unannounced guests; anything she could think of that didn't require her to skulk around the bushes. Carefully she shut the door behind her and said, very quietly, 'This isn't funny. Who is it?'

It was cool enough now for her to be glad of the sweater that had clung to her sweaty and tight. So typical of tonight to have a crazy pony visit me, she thought, right when I was gathering momentum again. And if something happens to me, well before I finish, could I expect anypony to finish what I started? And what if it is Minuette with some scones or cinnamon rolls? What if--

'Oh, you know who I am,' the deep voice sang from somewhere within the garden. She was reminded that the voice was the polar opposite of Minuette's, and she shivered. She could not think of anypony the voice could belong to.

'Come out then,' Moon Dancer dared, though her voice was little more than a quavering whisper. She knew that had she been more convincing, that would surely have worked.

'But I'm right here, just a few paces away. That's right... behind the bushes. Waiting for you.' 

Indeed, she had approached the sound; approached even though she knew it was absolute madness to do so. Parting the fronds she saw at once a luminous cloud of dusty stars and sparkling spheres. It hung there, drifting into the sky like a far-off nebula and yet it hung so close to her that she thought she could touch it. 

'I told you I was waiting for you,' the voice said, and she wasn't sure where it came from anymore. Was it coming from the phenomenon?

'I... can't see you, can I?' 

'Perhaps not,' the voice agreed, and to Moon Dancer's ears it had become playful; perhaps an overseas accent. Was it then some prank, after all? But the blue dust shifted in some way, and she could not keep track of how it moved or changed. 

'You are some... magical entity? Because that's actually impossible.'

'But what else could I be?' And the cloud grew some semblance of a face, floating down so she could see some equine features there - a long snout perhaps, and sparkling eyes very near an event horizon. 'But so are alicorns; beings of pure magic. How else could they exist?' 

'That doesn't sound right,' Moon Dancer said, taking a single step back so she pushed into the bushes. It had become difficult to speak, but still she forced out the words. 'An alicorn is grown as her powers increase, before or after birth. They are still ponies.' 

She shivered as suddenly the magic dust touched her and it felt as though sand rolled over her skin, and she found that she could only move slowly. Desperately she tried to conjure up a spell - any spell - but the Arcanis well was dry; her horn devoid of magic. 'The pony would be the pony,' the voice cooed, 'but equally so the alicorn is a separate force of magic that the pony would draw upon; it exists with or without a pony, much like I do right now.' 

'If you say so,' muttered Moon Dancer, wriggling her hooves as she looked around herself. No magic came to her and she did not know what to do. Could this even be real? No, it's not a dream, she reminded herself, knowing that if she were dreaming now she would not be consciously certain of being awake. 

'I do say so, so I exist perfectly well, thanks to you.' Suddenly the voice shifted again, murmuring pleasantly, and the force on her body gave way, so she found she could breathe easily again. Then the stars before her shone a glorious turquoise. 'So I have waited here for you...'

'So you've mentioned before,' Moon Dancer said at last, and she wondered if she had been here very long. Her hooves had stiffened and her eyes were weary. 'But why?'

'I'll show you presently,' the deep voice teased. 'But first, let me give you some room to breathe.'

Slowly the magic cloud surrounded her, but it was not as though she was swallowed - it was as though she suddenly floated in space, and it was cool and soothing. 'Wait. What are you doing?' she asked, trembling as her sweater was rolled up towards her neck.

But there was no answer, and she leaned forward and did not fall on the grass. 'Wh-what are you doing?' she gasped, her tail tugged and held and caressed and pulled and yanked and smoothed out by some intangible comb of magic. 

The voice was right there in her ear, its deep whisper rustling the hair in its tunnel. 'I'm doing what you've been wanting me to. Or at least, been wanting somepony to do... I'm slowly pulling down this dirty black underwear of yours...'

'What?' she exclaimed, her underwear pulled down and her untended shame bared to the nebulous force. 'You can't just do that! Magic or not!'

'Have you not wondered,' the deep voice dared, 'what it's like for somepony to dig their cock into you? Just once to find out what it's all about, to have somepony... fuck you?' 

'I...' her voice trailed off and she had no idea how to finish her thoughts, or even if it mattered if she did or not. Despite the cool night and her exposure to it, her privacy was hot and swollen; something cushioned against it pleadingly so she could not but shake and gasp nervously. 

'That's right,' the voice cooed again, 'this thick cock is going to push right into your dirty little pussy.' 

She was pushed forward on the carpet of floating stardust and yet her hindquarters stayed where they were; her tail was yanked and she gasped on command. Mounted, the pressure that built could only end one way; torn apart by a prying, secret satellite in her orbit, rings sailing around her and still she could see them, though her eyes were closed from the sudden blow to her insides. 

Was it her clit that stinged under the assault? She did not know things felt that way inside her. How many more chambers were there?

'I won't stop to tease you,' the voice panted, caressing her ears as a firm force pierced her further, 'I know you want - need a constant rhythm, and know this: I will not stop even when you can't take it anymore...' 

'You can't--'

But it could; the magic wound its way inside her, tunnelling in its mysterious ascent; climbing towards her throat so that her saliva whet its appetite and her, her - she had to call it her pussy now - her pussy was pounded again and again. Barged to a pulp, everything inside her gave way to the undulating force. Inexorably it compounded and added, added yet again, and barely ever truly subtracted. Her mind was swimming with possibilities, and yet she could not grasp a single one: she was a panting slut.

Her glasses rustled the grass below. It was a fierce smell of musty vinegar or dry wood or her own fluids, slicking the hammering thrusts - it felt like she was peeing. 'This is what it's like to be rutted like an animal,' the stars whispered to her and briefly she opened her eyes so that white flashes made them tear. She could feel it in her stomach and in her mouth, in her butt and all around her; she could reach outside herself, if but briefly, and touch the moon itself. 

'Ah... it can't - it can't be!' 

Flushed, she thought, I'm getting sexed! No - surely this can't be how it is to have sex?  But her thoughts were washed down along with the rest of her by pure magic and tingling dust; incredulous moans and hot strands of spit escaped her gaping mouth; hot and cold sweat like the goo gushing inside - it didn't stop. She knew it would not, maybe even before it was promised to her. But it had to end some time, surely? It could not continue; there was no further it could go. 'Everything that ends,' some powerful, brilliant light impressed as it pressed and penetrated, 'also stays with you.' 

Deeper, wetter, and harder than the laws of time and magic themselves. It can. Her consciousness shattered: all was black or white and smothered by overpowering bliss.








> C
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Moon Dancer slept long and deep, and between hazy awakenings and slumberings she thought of plodding through Gleamstreet. Maybe it was that instead she had carried herself to her bed or travelled to the toilet, but she fashioned herself in Gleamstreet alongside Minuette and Lemon Hearts.

All lights blinked, indicating the main attraction. It was a peculiar thing, for they loomed over the claw machine and their faces were leery with an anticipation that could not possibly be satisfied. Their hooves were grubby and the machine itself grimy and stained with muddy hoofprints. Strangest of all was that she had never before slept so soundly.

It was a lull of a week, and she required little magic to sleep: instead she bent her incantations to resurrecting her concentration. It did not work nearly as well as it should have.

"...I exist perfectly well, thanks to you."

Her magic must have been drained by the strange being, drawn from her in some way. Indeed she was sure it knew her thoughts. These implications were so frightening that she could not examine them. She sent a message by owl, it not being the fastest method but at least reliable. In addition to that she did not wish to presume on Twilight, and she considered that perhaps if she were to message her in some other, more practical manner, she would think her pushy and anti-social. This way she knew that Twilight would read the message on her own time and respond when - and if - it pleased her.

In the days that followed much of her thoughts processed again and again what had happened. These recollections appeared without prompting or consent, and she could not cease their recurrence. Maddeningly, she could not do much to bring herself closer to breaking the Cosmic Constant. Instead she collected separate tangents that built only on further tangents and inevitably became so far removed from the Tendence that Moon Dancer was compelled to at last drop yet another fruitless pursuit, only scarcely believing she had even eliminated any prospected angle. 

Once again Minuette had found herself on her doorstep, and Moon Dancer was startled and agitated at the sound of the bell. Minuette did not comment on her odd behaviour, yet Moon Dancer could not rule out that she knew some of her feelings; knew that she was unable to spend energy on speaking with her. Maybe she was even under suspicion of being in some form of heat or sexual entanglement. 

Despite these fears, however, Minuette brought her muffins and doughnuts and was content to drink some tea in the kitchen by herself. Moon Dancer soon forgot about her presence entirely, and she saw herself out no more than thirty minutes after her arrival. 

If I am to die, Moon Dancer thought an evening not so many days later, brushing aside several pointless calculations, I will need somepony powerful to help me enact my principle while I still can. Twilight would be the only pony both able and, hopefully, willing. 

But she remembered Twilight not as the type to just drop whatever she would be doing and study with her for a full week. No, she'd insist on friendship assignments or 'hanging out' with Minuette, Lemon Hearts, and Twinkleshine. Maybe she'd bring Spike as well, and he would have demands of his own. Ice cream, museums, who knew? 

It had sometimes bothered her that nopony treated her pursuits with due courtesy. Sure, ponies the likes of Minuette respected her wishes - for the most part - but had she declared herself to be organising stamps or preparing elaborate domino tracks she would have behaved exactly in the same manner she did now: she, like everypony else, did not truly understand the potential that lay in her research. It was as though she existed in a world where she alone saw its meaning; she alone was privy to the importance of such true magic.

Bell Point, she recalled, had mentioned off-hoof to have been invited into Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns, but his "calling" lay in helping some distant relative with her bed and breakfast. His interest in magic was short-sighted and selfish: like most ponies he asked only the question why, and upon discovering the magic he would ask what could he accomplish with this magic to realise his practical pursuits. To her, magic itself was the pursuit, and there could not possibly be one higher.



At last Moon Dancer had received word by owl courier that Twilight would be taking the train to see her. It would be two days from now. In those two days she prepared her calculations, knowing that Twilight would require a well-organised - redundantly organised - layout of notes and theorems, source books and so forth, particularly if she brought along her dragon assistant or another such distraction. This was a delicate task, but knowing her breakthrough to be at hoof, she was calmed greatly by the work.

But it was not only her quest that she busied herself with, taking care in readying candles in the upper library floor so that they could work under the glow of such natural light and reserve all magic for their research. She cleaned the kitchen: a task she did not savour in the least, but nonetheless powered through. On the final day before Twilight's arrival, she showered and put on her hoof-cleaned blouse and fresh underclothes. She even went on a trip through town to buy food and snacks and other such luxuries, even thinking to buy some comic books to occupy Spike, should he be with her. 



Just before evening the moment had finally arrived, and Moon Dancer's mind urged her to go over all her preparations one more time - but there was no time. Upon hearing the doorbell, she had rushed down the staircase immediately, briefly fidgeting with her freshly-combed mane before opening the door. She had not realised truly how much she dreaded Spike's presence until she saw Twilight standing at her doorstep alone. She sighed in such relief that Twilight had to ask, 'What is it?' before hugging her.

Embracing her old friend, Moon Dancer murmured, 'Nothing much, just the inescapable assault of some magical consciousness.'

'You should have told me something like that was up,' Twilight said frankly, 'I would have prepared and brought...'

'No need, Twilight, I have everything we need right here.' Promptly she pushed Twilight through the hallway. 'There's food in the kitchen and you can freshen up downstairs if you want; I have prepared a guest quarter in the wing you of course know well enough and if you'll come with me to the main study here I will show you the calculations I have found but also the toilet has been cleaned and I didn't do that for you specifically. That's just because I like to live here, you know, clean, and I removed my glasses not because I broke them but because I have found this spell, and--'

'Moon Dancer! Calm down!' 

She realised suddenly that she had been vying for her attention for a while now, and then Twilight repeated, 'Calm down. Now, what are you saying about calculations? I thought you said there was a magical consciousness? You did seem a little off in your letter.'

'Of course, but there's also...'

'Wait. Are you okay? You're unusually nervous. More than that even: you look... frenetic, if that's the right word.' Slowly Twilight approached her friend and studied her. 

Moon Dancer hoped nothing showed on her face. 'Oh, it's nothing,' she assured her, 'it's probably just the enchantments I've got going in order to busy myself with both of these things at once. I'm not going to do the dishes and nothing else at the same time! I mean, I can't...'

'Moon Dancer, don't you realise that using so many spells to study causes unexpected side-effects? Before you know it, you get so lost in these things...'

'A-ha! But I know perfectly well where I am, Twilight. Now step right this way...'

Though the afternoon had begun to slip away, the ground floor's main study was brilliantly illuminated by the drawn curtains. Moon Dancer pointed to the stack of books on the side table. 'This is what I've gathered about the intelligence, but upstairs...'

Twilight sighed and sat down, only faintly analysing the parchment. When at last Moon Dancer looked towards her uncertainly, fidgeting her hooves, Twilight said, 'One thing at a time, Moon Dancer. Maybe you should start by saying what happened with this magical consciousness.'

Immediately the feeling came back to her and it was almost as though it was happening right then and there. She could not believe the pressure that built in her body and it hastened her breath. If only, she thought to herself desperately, it doesn't make me sweat or wet my underwear. Bowing her head she covertly cast a Respiratory Relaxation spell, hoping Twilight would not notice. It did not seem to have any effect, or else her breathing increased to cancel out its effects.

Watching her friend pace around the study, Twilight chuckled. 'Did you have too much green tea? When I get like that, usually Spike tells me I'm panicking too much, heh.' But when Moon Dancer did not hear her, she at once became serious again. 'Just start from the beginning,' she suggested.

'The beginning,' Moon Dancer agreed. She thought of the beginning; thought of the rapping on her door. Or was it already longer ago, when some tremor in the atmosphere - or indeed her very being - became known to her. She decided to be to the point. 'Well, something has threatened to, well, take me over.'

The words felt odd and unwieldy to her, as though somepony else had decided to say them for her. She did not like hiding things: it made her seem somehow in the wrong. She looked up at Twilight, her eyes looking back imploringly, and her friend said, 'Control your mind, you mean?'

She considered this but now it was not just her heart that throbbed and her lungs that rushed to what would undoubtedly come next. She could barely say anything: she had to be quick and concise. 'Not exactly,' she managed at last.

'I don't follow. What exactly?'

Seeing Twilight in this way did not make her feel less odd. If anything, from the moment Twilight had arrived everything came to her in a rush - it was as though the magic she had used in her studies suddenly came in effect, where before they were but a whimper. Twilight became a wise pony in her presence, and she wanted badly to talk about the curious things that had happened to her; the very cosmos soon to be revealed to her. Words did not suffice; could not suffice. 

She excused herself with a quick gesture, and indeed Twilight considered that suddenly she had to go to the toilet. Soon, however, Moon Dancer returned from the kitchen with a big box of doughnuts. 'They are Donut Joe's,' she said weakly, carefully dropping the box in Twilight's lap. They smelled of sugar and cream.

Ignoring for now the baked goods dropped on her lap, Twilight said, 'I've been thinking about what you said before, and I'm terribly interested in what you've been working on. Could it be--'

'I'm not crazy,' Moon Dancer broke in, 'it's quite possible I've been at this for a while, but I've been eating. And sleeping, too. Come! I'll show you!'

Following her into the upstairs library, candles flickered to life and soon Twilight began to rummage through Moon Dancer's calculations. There was only worry on her face, and everything she read further furrowed her brow.

'Just like you left it, huh?' Moon Dancer said, vaguely watching the sun set through the window. Then she laughed to herself sudden and loud, and she said, 'That might be my most important research yet! Thank Celestia for those spells you've taught me so I could get to these equations so easily - but of course I also took care not to overdo them! I mean, of course I did.'

'Moon Dancer,' Twilight began, but already Moon Dancer had drawn near, peering over her shoulder as though this allowed her to see her work through her friend's eyes. 

'See? The principle isn't truly more than another law of nature! Like life and death and air and the earth, which is really just particles and dust, which is really just molecules and bone, which--'

Twilight promptly embraced her, unable to think of another way to halt this train of thought. Moon Dancer was sure she could smell her, though she had no idea what scents she identified - she decided simply she smelled warm and cosy, like hot chocolate. A rush of emotion came to her and she held her close, whimpering, 'I'm so glad you're here... that you've come!'

Breaking the hug, Twilight noticed again the vast array of candles prepared. Suddenly her worry tilted so that there was a new kind of sadness that painted her face. She said, 'Oh, of course, I guess that's...'

Moon Dancer did not interrupt her with further torrents of words and to Twilight this proved her sudden realisation; it told her that at last she began to address what she truly wanted from her. It explained her neurotic behaviour as well as everything else. Apologetically, she said, 'I'm flattered. I'm just not sure I - well, I'm really flattered.'

'It's okay, Twilight, I know what you... need? Something like that.' 

She cursed her rash, clumsy words, not knowing where they came from, and she looked away. Had the sky turned a dark violet so soon? 'Not sure I said that right. Pretty sure I ruined the mood...'

Moon Dancer did not hear Twilight's response: a cleft had opened up to them, she was sure, and there was that sound again. It quivered as the candles did too, rising up and shrinking again to its tone. 'Do... you hear that?'

Smoke rushed in, but it was not smoke. The stars fell, but they were already below the stratosphere. Before her very eyes the window seemed to disappear. She turned and night had usurped the room, sparkling and whispering its inscrutable breath. 

She gasped as she felt its presence; the magic was almost inside her. She could not believe the delirium of emotions, anger and frustration, desire and pleasure. Embarrassment. She did not believe these things even as she felt them and had indeed experienced them before, if but once.

'Your friend knows about me, doesn't she?' the mysterious presence boomed. 'I know you know you do.'

Twilight stared wide-eyed and exclaimed, 'Fascinating!' A multitude of conclusions came to her, one following the next well before she could articulate them. At last she said, 'You must have emerged as Moon Dancer's magic was released, unspent, when she was asleep, and...'

'...crawled out of her dreams, like an unknown friend.'

Moon Dancer was on the verge of tears, yet she also panted erratic, hot breaths. 'No, don't you say anything! This - this is rude. I'm standing right here!'

'You are right here,' the magic agreed, 'and so is your friend. Have you looked at her?' 

And she did, and as though she was infected by it, Twilight grew confused. Now her estimations had failed her. 'So, you're an embodiment of her dreams,' Twilight thought aloud. 'Perhaps even subconscious dreams: dreams at the perimeter of her mind, as all this frenetic energy materialised into form. It builds there until the dream - the energy - concludes.'

'Elementary conjecture, but that's close enough.'

'Elementary conjecture?' Moon Dancer said, offended, 'but that doesn't sound like me at all! How can you be my dream if you don't even sound like me! You're more like a Maizebridge student.'

A playful twist entered the magic, and even this subtle change made her cheeks flush. 'Ah, but it's what you would like to sound like. I'm not you; I'm simply what you wanted me to be - no, what you dreamed me to be! And as your sweet book-nerd ally just alluded to, the only way for this magical energy to be reversed is to fulfil your dream. Nothing more, nothing less.'

Gripped by guilt, Moon Dancer felt responsible for bringing this danger onto her friend, but there was another guilt too, pressing into her even more demanding: she could not but think of them both suffering sex by its power. After all she has done for me, she thought, I am a disgrace! Her whisper was guarded, unsure: 'But this is not my dream. Is it?' 

Twilight stepped closer, her head swivelling to and fro as the dark magic surrounded them. 'What is?'

'I think it's suggesting we... uh... make love - that's how we'd call it, right?'

'Us?' Twilight covered her face, and Moon Dancer respectfully turned away again. Already she imagined the stardust entity refer to the ordeal in a far more vulgar tongue.

'This... isn't what I expected,' Twilight concluded glumly.

Despite the alluring cloud of magic still Moon Dancer collapsed to her knees, crying. In essence, she collapsed inside herself. 'It's not going to happen, is it?' she asked nopony in particular. 'The work will be ruined, wasted as I die and all shall be consumed by this powerful magic.' She sobbed and muttered of her perilous fate, the cloud of magic swirling against her. She both loved and hated the feeling, but not nearly as much as she hated herself.

At last she became aware of Twilight bowing over her, and she carried precisely the look of pity that she was so afraid of. She could hardly speak and her voice was little more than a weak croak. 'No, Twilight, stay back,' she warned, 'I don't want you to do whatever you're going to do! I've been lying all this time, you see, I have been abusing magic! I wanted more from the world, for the world... more from life! But I have nothing! I have accomplished nothing! I'm - I'm a--'

She could say no more, as her mouth was grasped violently. Twilight had stooped down and kissed her on her lips, and she did not understand how she so easily surrendered to her: it was as though she had relinquished the authority over her face in that same instant. Twilight drew back, yet the taste remained, her mouth waiting. Inexplicably, she kissed her again, and her tongue danced with hers' in her mouth and somewhere between them nestled a powerful force; a force of nature that surely could not be contained, burning through their clothes as its vibraphonic tone accelerated such that they could feel it against their skin. As a concerto, their hearts beat as one. The sweet taste of their warm breath and saliva. This kiss they held unaware of how long they were locked. Moon Dancer knew that this too must have been impossible - indeed, she did not even realise consciousness slipped away from her.



Boatless in space some way I float. Stars' homes hoard symbols near and far; patterns I can't but promise to tend. Made of glass it is a test, I guess; it is a test where each star so connects can break or bend. And in this test a tempest blinks and thinks things I spin yet can't comprehend, but when it rests my eyes are trained to the shape of what's tried and what is yet to try. Vases and rivers, rings and kings made vessels; ancient script of Phoenix alphabet which sings. Queue the grand reveal, a dream ere cornis uni and ali cantered, used, tallied, and mused. Telling the planets they moved well past the galaxy's fabric and behold! they caress the reveal in answer. Touched before by the stardust form, I mistrust not what's thought my own. Afloat in cosmos as nought but finite dot tiny, blind, and dumb, still I know. 

I know I am no longer alone.



On the floor they awoke without any trace of the entity, but they did not truly open their eyes for very long. They did however feel each other's proximity, though they no longer touched. It must have been their breaths, erratic and harsh, that told them the other was near. Perhaps this had also been what made them awake almost simultaneously.

'Try picturing rolling waves,' Moon Dancer muttered dreamily, 'and each wave is an effortless breath.' 

Twilight did as instructed, finding no reason to speak. For a while they lay there together, breathing steadily, giving way only to their own recovering bodies. 

Her body may have been a tumultuous beast, tamed only slowly by her will, but Moon Dancer no longer felt this tension in her that she did before. It must have been released, somehow, around the time that the magic dissipated. 

Slowly Twilight rose to her hooves. Moonlight shone into the study, and the candles had burned up. Had they truly been up there for so long? She yawned and rubbed her eyes, automatically casting them on whichever book she found. 'One day,' she decided, her mouth dry, 'you will break the Cosmic Constant, or somepony will.' She swallowed and looked at the woozy pony in her ruffled blouse and her mane atousle like a wild experiment. 'But until then, there's still enough to explore here, in Equestria.'

Moon Dancer got up, nearly stumbling as she had somehow assumed a pillow to meet her. She looked at Twilight in wonder, wishing she had her glasses on her. 'That kiss,' she managed at last to say, 'did you do that just to contain the entity?'

'I figured it would calm you down,' she answered with a soft laugh, and she did not think this evasive or vague.

And Twilight returned her eyes to Moon Dancer's research. The Transmutative Tendence was so clear, and yet much of its surrounding figures bore all manner of diversion and mania. 'Actually,' she decided quietly, 'I very much think it will be you.'

They leaned against each other lazily, and Moon Dancer thought, She doesn't smell like chocolate at all. She's more of a flower, or a fruit.

Remembering the plans she made before, she told herself to breathe easy and let the mysterious energy fade away. There was no rush for Twilight to go home just yet, and there was nothing more that had to be done right now.