Cheerilee’s Quiet Surrender

 

To mares, humans were exotic, a walking mystery that sparked whispers on every corner. Rumors didn’t help: a mare in heat could get pregnant by a human, giving birth to a filly or, rarer still, a human colt. A pure pony foal from that union was practically a miracle. But curiosity beat common sense, and interspecies bars started filling up.

 

I’m Cheerilee, or at least, that’s who I used to be. On the outside, I was Ponyville’s perfect schoolteacher: always smiling, always with a lesson ready, always helping foals find their way. But inside, it was a different story. Every night, when I locked up the schoolhouse, the silence crushed me. My friends were finding partners—some with ponies, some with humans. They laughed, planned, lived. I went home, graded papers, and pretended it didn’t hurt.

 

It wasn’t just being alone. It was feeling like the world was moving on without me. I saw Twilight with her books, Pinkie with her parties, Rarity with her romances, and I wondered: when’s my turn? The “everything’s fine” facade was cracking. I’d wake up with a knot in my chest, look in the mirror, and see a mare I didn’t know anymore. One night, I couldn’t take it. I decided something had to change.

 

I put on a simple dress, nothing that screamed “look at me,” and went to the interspecies bar, “The Portal.” A place full of laughter, sneaky glances, and the smell of cider mixed with something human I couldn’t place. I was nervous, hooves shaking, but I sat at the bar and ordered a juice. I’m not much of a drinker, after all.Then he showed up. Anon. Tall, with a shirt he clearly didn’t care to iron, and a crooked smile you couldn’t tell was teasing or sincere. “Rough day at school?” he asked, his voice carrying a warmth that caught me off guard. We talked. I don’t know how, but hours flew by like nothing. He made me laugh, and for the first time in ages, I didn’t feel like I had to be the perfect Cheerilee.

 

Dates followed. Sunset walks, dinners at his place with weird human food that smelled odd but tasted good. But there was something about Anon I didn’t see at first. His “peculiar tastes,” as he called them once, half-joking. He looked at me in a way that wasn’t hunger, but something deeper, like he saw the Cheerilee I kept hidden.

 

One night, he pulled out a silk blindfold. “Trust me,” he said, and my heart skipped a beat. I hesitated, but his eyes were steady, warm, sure. I said yes. He blindfolded me and led me through Ponyville. I couldn’t see a thing, just felt his hand guiding me, his voice whispering that everything was okay. I should’ve felt ridiculous, but I didn’t. I felt alive.Then came other games. He asked me to wear things I’d never have considered: lingerie, not made for ponies. Black lace that clung to my coat, red ribbons that glowed under the light, fabrics so thin they seemed to whisper secrets against my skin. In Equestria, ponies go bare; a hat or a bow is already a lot. This was… different. At first, I felt exposed, like all of Ponyville was staring, even though it was just us. But when he looked at me, there was no mockery. Just desire, admiration, an intensity that made me forget my shame.

 

Every time Anon brought out a new set, my heart raced. It wasn’t just wearing it; it was knowing he’d chosen it, that he wanted to see me like this. What started as a challenge became something I looked forward to. I waited for those moments, those days when he’d hand me a box with a smile and say, “Try it on.” And I did, because with him, I wasn’t afraid—just filled with an excitement I couldn’t explain.

 

One night, as I stood in a set of lace I barely dared to wear, he whispered, “Mine and no one else’s.” Those words hit me like lightning. My legs shook, my heart pounded, and it wasn’t just excitement. It was desire, raw, overwhelming, like someone was truly seeing me for the first time. From that day, the lingerie wasn’t just fabric. It was a reminder that I was his—not because he demanded it, but because I chose it.

 

At first, giving up control hurt. I’m Cheerilee, the mare with a plan, the one who never messes up in front of her students. Letting go felt like tearing out a piece of myself. But with every game, every moment I let him lead, the pain turned into something else. Pleasure, not the cheap kind you read in trashy novels, but something deeper. I needed that calm, that release from not having to be perfect. I needed Anon.

 

Everything was with my consent. Anon never crossed a line I didn’t want. If I said “stop,” he stopped. If I trembled, he held me until I was ready. He taught me to trust, to let go, to find joy in surrendering. And at some point, the lonely mare grading papers in the dark was gone.

 

Today, I’m sitting in a Ponyville restaurant, a smile I can’t hold back. My dress is simple, but it doesn’t hide the obvious: I’m pregnant, one or two months from giving birth. Across from me are Bon Bon, Lyra, and Mayor Mare, their jaws dropped like they just saw Discord doing ballet.

 

“Well, girls,” I say, resting a hoof on my belly, “I’ve told you my story. What’s been up with you?”

 

Silence. Bon Bon blinks. Lyra drops her fork. Mayor Mare adjusts her glasses but says nothing. I burst out laughing, a loud, genuine laugh that turns heads in the restaurant. For the first time in forever, I don’t care.

 

The End?