B-Bundle Joy? Is that you? I'm… sorry.

You probably don't recognize me, but my name is Antiderivative; I went to middle school with you. Of course, everypony in the school knew who you were: the filly with a fertility cutie mark on her flanks and triplets in her uterus. I'm not proud to admit I was one of the students who teased you for it. That was stupid of me, and now that I'm at least a little bit more mature, I realize what a beautiful thing your talent really is. However, that's not what I really wanted to apologize for.

Soon after you birthed your foals, you came back to school, smelling strongly of what I now recognize as the smell of a mare in heat. It was so intoxicating, and I was young, my body going through changes of its own, coursing with unused hormones. You can probably guess by now who I am, and what happened. I lost control. During recess, I… I used…

I'm sorry. If this is hard for me to talk about, it must be terrible for you to be reminded of it.

When we went to recess, I… used my magic to gag, blindfold, and immobilize you, and… I had my way with you, behind a bush. I knew it was wrong, and there's no excuse for what I did, but in the heat of the moment I didn't care; I just wanted to inseminate you.

Nopony suspected it was me; a math geek isn't exactly the first pony to be accused of rape. And anyway, soon afterwards my family moved to Whinnyappleus. I never saw you again after that, but, knowing your cutie mark, I can only assume I impregnated you.

For a while, I tried to tell myself that it was your fault, that your scent made me do it, but that's wrong. You didn't pick your special talent, and I'm the one who lost control. I know I've probably said it a lot, but I really am very, very sorry. I don't blame you if you never find it in you to forgive me; what I did truly was unforgivable. I've been carrying the guilt with me all these years, even after moving to Coltlumbus to pursue my degree, and it feels good to just get it off of my chest.