Al-Harb al-Jahala
“I'm gay.”
Rainbow Dash wasn't stupid; she expected and prepared for a great number of possible reactions as she was walking towards the library. Acceptance, rejection, fear, vindication. Her reaction to each possibility was carefully scripted, immaculately polished. Almost as polished, indeed, as one of her numerous tricks. There wasn't a better time than then to put it into motion; she was, after all, surrounded by her friends.
Fluttershy was the first to react. “Oh?”
The word set off the first triggers to three of Rainbow's contingencies, and her carefully-programmed set of psychological triggers promptly crumbled; she fell back on her powers of reasoning, hoping to channel the raw power of her mind into resolving the problem.
It was unfortunate that her mind held its raw power rather dearly.
“Ohcelestiapleasedonttellmyparentstheyrereallytraditional,” she said, offending the sensitivities of decent orthographists everywhere with her illiterate word separation. “I mean, I just couldn't lie to you any—”
“Uh, Rainbow Dash?” Pinkie said, tilting her head a bit. “You're totally not a fillyfooler. At all. I mean, you should probably know that, being you and all, but you're totally not.”
If not for her superior senses, Dash might have missed Pinkie's assertion and gone on speaking incoherently; as it was, she interrupted herself just on time to go on speaking semi-coherently. “What?”
Rarity tilted her head very slightly and spoke. “I think what Pinkie Pie means to say—in her own, frightfully direct way—is that you aren't attracted to mares. And I must say that I can't disagree with her.” She took a sip from her teacup.
“Well,” Pinkie continued, evidently quite oblivious to the fact that her friend was emotionally crumbling to pieces—as opposed to crumbling emotionally to pieces, which would require a false Holy Grail, “Maybe you're actually a stallion! You could be attracted to nopony at all! Or stallions and mares! Or stallions and mares and hitch-jib-reins! Or maybe—” She leaned over conspiratorially, her perky voice turning to a perky whisper. “Maybe you're attracted to foals.”
“What?” Rainbow Dash might have asked what a term representing the aetiology of social immobility in emissarianist sociology, the concept of disobedience in slavery and a certain article of bondage equipment had in common, but she considered Pinkie's logic to be far more important a topic to address. “But—but I like mares. I don't like stallions, I don't like foals—” she said, giving a rather disgusted sort of look, “I'm a mare—I'm gay!”
Twilight raised an eyebrow. “I hate to say this, Dash, but it's kind of obvious.”
She stared at her for a few seconds before shaking her head and glaring, her mind having had the fortune to find its competition subroutine. “I'm so butch I make Big Mac look like a sissy. My hair's rainbows. How am I not gayer than a Los Pegasus showpony?”
Fluttershy raised a hoof. “If I may say something?”
“Fluttershy!” Rainbow Dash exclaimed, “You're good with reading minds and stuff, right? C'mon, tell them that I'm gay.”
“To be totally honest—eep—” she said, eeping as she saw Rainbow's eyes widening a bit, “That's exactly the problem. You're a bit of an, uh, a stereotype.”
Rarity looked over to Fluttershy, raising an eyebrow.. “Did you just turn an 'a' into an 'an' just for the 'uh', dear?”
“Yes?” Fluttershy squeaked out. “I think all words are equal.”
“That's not totally true,” Twilight said casually, “I don't think 'uh' even is a word.”
She paused for a bit and then put her hoof up against her chin. “Maybe it's a defective verb only inflected in the first-person present tense meaning 'to not be sure what to say' or as an optative second-person present tense meaning 'to allow to finish'?”
Fluttershy, who knew some of those words, backed up a bit in embarrassment. “Well, just because they might be doesn't mean we can't treat them—”
“Girls!” Dash exclaimed, throwing her forelegs out in exasperation. “This is serious! I'm trying to come out of the closet here!”
Pinkie popped up inches from her muzzle, making her almost fall over in fright; the chair tilted a bit. “What you need is a song that'll help you find your real identity! It doesn't matter if you love mares or steers, it doesn't matter whether you're on top or really super quee—”
Dash pushed her hoof up against Pinkie's muzzle, blushing furiously. “I already know who I am, Pinkie! I'm gay. A fillyfooler. Homosexual!” She paused for a bit. “And I like ponies, not that there's anything wrong with—”
She felt Pinkie's teeth nibbling and tongue licking around her hoof, screeched in terror and pulled it out, shaking it wildly with her eyes wide open as the spittle flew off. “What was that for?”
“See! If you really were gay, you'd accept every single romantic advance any mare gave you ever! Everypony knows that. I mean, it's not like everypony is different and has different tastes, regardless of their sexuality!” Pinkie had the good sense to conclude her train of a sentence with a stunningly oblivious grin, the shine almost blinding her friend and interrupting her inevitable response.
As Pinkie's smile pulse warfare suppressed Dash's retort, Twilight began her barrage of completely valid logic. “I think what Pinkie's trying to say is that you're just too obvious. I mean, the rainbow hair, the coltlike voice—if you're actually homosexual, that would be offensive. And as we all know, it's unponylike to be offensive.” She nodded towards the rest; except for Pinkie, everypony nodded back. “I mean, just ask Princess Celestia.”
Dash pushed Pinkie and her glittering smile off of her, close to fuming. “But you're offending me!”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “As always, Dashie, you're thinking only about yourself. You really ought to be less self-centered.”
Dash stood and watched with her mouth open as Rarity took another sip from her cup.
Then a metaphorical spark of inspiration burst over her head, incinerating every bit of metaphorical mane-hair from her metaphorical skin, incinerating the non-metaphor-proof parts of her metaphorical brain into piles of smoky metaphor.
“I'm just kidding! Of course I'm not one of those marefiddlers!” Rainbow Dash said triumphantly, “Fillyfoolers and coltcuddlers should all be rounded up and sent to the moon, away from decent ponies like us!”
Rarity gasped, losing her concentration; her cup fell onto the floor and shattered. “What are you saying, Rainbow Dash?”
“I'm saying that all those foalfiddlers ought to be locked up with a bunch of wild Diamond Dogs like they deserve!”
Pinkie had an uneven timbre to her voice. “Silly Dashie, homosexuals aren't necessarily foalophiles!”
“They are too, and they're all gonna rot in pony hell like every other bad pony!”
Gasps resounded from about the room. “Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, her eyes wide open, “You're sounding—you're sounding homophobic!”
Dash folded her forelegs. “So what if I am? It's just natural. Unlike them.”
Fluttershy piped up, keeping her voice just loud enough to be heard. “Aren't homophobes usually homosexual themselves?” She winced a bit as she said it, as if their disagreement would sink ships.
Twilight nodded. “That's true.” Rarity and Pinkie did likewise, surrounding Dash with populist agreement.
She shook her head furiously, slamming her hooves down onto the floor. “Impossible! I hate that kind of pony! I can't be one of them!” Her entire frame shook with firm outrage as she glared hatefully at her friends.
“There, there,” Fluttershy said, walking over slowly and draping her forelegs over Dash's shoulders. “It'll be all right. Just tell the truth.”
Pinkie followed Fluttershy's example, hugging the pegasus about the middle and around one of her slightly-elevated wings. “Yeah. Tell the truth, Dashie! We'll all love you no matter what!” A slight pause in Pinkie's elocution followed. “Well, not in that way, but you know what I mean!”
She soon found herself smothered under the weight of four hugs in various places, putting up a token resistance before she finally cried out. “It's true! I'm actually attracted to other mares, and I'm just mad at them because I can't find a girlfriend!”
“You poor baby!” Fluttershy exclaimed, hugging her even tighter and driving the air from her lungs. “That's just terrible. Don't worry, we'll find you a girlfriend! Right, girls?”
A chorus of agreement came from the three other hugging ponies. “Right!”
“I don't want just any girlfriend,” Dash said, “I want you!” She leaned forwards and kissed Fluttershy full on the lips, her right hoof drifting down between Twilight's thighs and her left between Pinkie's.
And then they all fucked.
—
“I told you roleplaying would be fun,” Twilight said, panting as she licked the paper-and-ink-flavoured pudding from her lips. “Isn't it great to just let loose?”
“Totally!” Pinkie said, nodding quite enthusiastically as she ran a rubber hoof through the sink.
“I dunno,” Dash said, pouring out a great amount of cake batter by then rendered unsafe for consumption. “I kinda broke down at the start. Ponies say things like that all the time to me. It just gets old, y'know? Sometimes I just wanna buck them hard. In the face.”
Rarity laughed as she delicately pulled strings of cheese from her mane. “We all deviated a little from the script, darling. Well, except for me. I spoke in the tradition of grand opera.”
Twilight snorted derisively as she used her magic to effortlessly lift over ninety pounds of teats and plot. “Please. You almost gave me a grand mal.”
They all had a bit of a titter before Fluttershy—her Scootaloo costume just off of her, leaving a rather exhausted, sweaty pony—piped up.
“It's just too bad that Applejack's straight.”