Coming to Rarity


                                            >You stand before the little royal purple door with the diamond painted on it.

                                            >Carousel Boutique.

                                            >Pure evil.

                                            >Rarity.

                                            >You’re at a safe distance, of course.

                                            >Down the street from it, really; not even close to her dreaded shop at all.

                                            >The manager of Quills and Sofas has actually been staring at you through his store window for about ten minutes now.

                                            >You think it’s been ten minutes, anyway; could be longer.

                                            >You’re pretty sure that your shadow was on the left side of your body when you first began standing here.

                                            >Either way, you’re convinced that he’s going to call the Royal Guard on you the moment he leaves the shop floor.

                                            >Yeah, you’re loitering, but you can’t help yourself right now.

                                            >You find that you cannot take a single step further towards the decorative pillars, purple frills and gaudy pony statues of the boutique.

                                            >Among these cartoon marshmallow ponies, Carousel Boutique is the one place in town where you can have clothes tailored especially for your big alien monkey body.

                                            >All because of the talented seamstress, designer and fashionista extraordinaire that runs it.

                                            >Her name is Rarity.

                                            >She loves you.

                                            >She’s obsessed with you, really.

                                            >And she is pure evil.

                                            >Evil wrapped up in a tiny, horny little horsey package, with a coat as pure and white as driven snow.

                                            >She used to chase after you.

                                            >You had tried to tell her that you were not interested but she never took no for an answer.

                                            >When she finally did stop stalking you, she did not treat it as though she was giving up.

                                            >“All I’ve done is realize that it just doesn’t do us any good for me to keep throwing myself at you like I’m some kind of love-struck filly.”

                                            >You woke up to her cuddling you in bed while she said this.

                                            >Your bed.

                                            Rarity, what the fuck time is–fucking midnight!

                                            >“I had to see you.”

                                            Get the fuck out!

                                            >Then she said something.

                                            >Something that you swore would never happen.

                                            >“After all, it has become all but apparent that you will have to come to me on your own someday. And when you do, darling, I shall have my way.”

                                            >Her last words drew a soft purr out from within her and she began nuzzling your arm with her cheek.

                                            >She looked up at you with determined, loving eyes.

                                            >You rolled yours.

                                            Yeah, sure, that’ll happen. Now, get out of my bed.

                                            >“Aren’t you going to see me out?”

                                            You already saw yourself in, see yourself out.

                                            >“Fine,” she huffed.

                                            >But she didn’t move.

                                            >She squeezed you tighter.

                                            >“You know, you really could stand to tidy up in here a little. Perhaps I can–”

                                            Leave!

                                            >She was right, your room was a mess.

                                            >Oh, and that other thing too.

                                            >You had to see her today.

                                            >You didn’t want to do this, to take a step forward and submit yourself to Rarity’s will.

                                            >But you had to.

                                            >Fluttershy flies down and lands by your side.

                                            >“Um . . .”

                                            >You don’t turn away from the boutique.

                                            Hey, Fluttershy.

                                            >“Hi,” she says meekly.

                                            >She follows your eyes and quickly gets a read on the situation.

                                            >“Have you been standing here a long time?”

                                            I think it’s only been about ten minutes.

                                            >“There’s dust on your shoes.”

                                            >The wind had indeed blown a thin layer of dust up off of the street and had it settle on the top of your shoes.

                                            >You eye it briefly.

                                            That was there before.

                                            >“You’re sure?” she says slowly. “Okay. . . . Well, you might want to wipe it off before you go in. Rarity will be all over you if you don’t.”

                                            She’ll be all over me anyway.

                                            >“Well, yeah . . . but I didn’t want to say anything that would upset you.”

                                            You’re pretty perceptive, Flutteshy. Either that or the reason I’m stuck standing out here is just way too obvious to everyone.

                                            >The Quills and Sofas manager trains his wary eyes onto you as he steps backwards into his office.

                                            >“Oh, I didn’t actually know anything until Rainbow Dash told me what happened,” Fluttershy says.

                                            >You frown.

                                            >The whole reason you’re in this mess is because of Rainbow Dash.

                                            >“Actually, she just left. She was flying along with me just a second ago. I’m not sure where she is now. She didn’t even say why she had to go.”

                                            Interesting.

                                            >“She said that the two of you were, um, wrestling when the rip happened.”

                                            Something like that.

                                            >“Is that something you like doing, wrestling with ponies, I mean?”

                                            >She leans closer towards you.

                                            >“Because, um, if Rainbow Dash is too rough on you–not that I don’t think you could handle her. You could probably handle any pony you want. I mean, you’re so big, and so strong, and so–”

                                            She flew down from the sky and put me in a headlock. Then we fell into a barbed wire fence.

                                            >Fluttershy blinks.

                                            >“Oh.”

                                            Then, when she saw I was pissed, she said, “My bad,” and flew away.

                                            >“I think I know now why she flew away when we saw you.”

                                            >You just grimace.

                                            >Fucking Rainbow Dash.

                                            >These ponies can be super touchy feely sometimes, and most of them have serious problems when it comes to knowing their boundaries.

                                            >And Rainbow Dash, she loves roughhousing; especially with people she likes.

                                            >You never really minded it because she was nice enough, and it’s not like these little ponies could ever really hurt you.

                                            >But she went too far this time.

                                            >“Is that the rip?”

                                            >On the upper arm of your shirt is a small, quarter-sized hole.

                                            >It serves as a window, a peek that’s available for all those that wish to catch a glimpse of the pale skin that’s hidden beneath your clothes.

                                            No, that’s been there a while. I made it bigger though, cause I couldn’t stop picking at it.

                                            >You stick your finger in the hole and tug at the fabric until it pops off your nail.

                                            >“So where is the rip that you want Rarity to mend?”

                                            >You spread your legs a bit.

                                            I’m here because your stupid friend did this.

                                            >You reach down on the inside of your pant leg, just above the knee, and run your finger along the rip that reaches all the way up to your crotch.

                                            >The crotch of your pants has been torn out and is dangling like a flap.

                                            >It reaches from your back pocket to the bottom of your zipper.

                                            >Fluttershy is very interested in it.

                                            >“Oh, I see . . . !”

                                            >She sticks her muzzle in for a closer look, with her nose practically inches away from your crotch.

                                            >Again, boundaries.

                                            >“That’s a really nice rip.”

                                            >She catches herself.

                                            >“I didn’t mean it like–I meant, um . . .”

                                            I know what you meant. It is pretty gnarly.

                                            >“I can see why you would want to have Rarity mend that.”

                                            Well, these are my work pants, so I have to get them fixed.

                                            >“Oh, you didn’t get in trouble with Maud, did you?”

                                            >Your job is to help Maud gather and organize the rocks around Ponyville during the day so she can focus on studying them through the evening.

                                            >It’s hard work, even if you’re just pulling the cart full of rocks around, but Maud is a good boss.

                                            >She kept Rarity away from you at least.

                                            >A chunk of feldspar thrown over a hundred miles an hour, and whizzing just an inch away your head, will keep anyone from bothering you a second time.

                                            I’m not in trouble with Maud. I like her, but she’s scaring me.

                                            >“Oh, that’s okay. She scares me too sometimes. A lot of ponies do, actually.”

                                            This is different, sort of a recent thing. You know how I pull the cart of rocks around for her?

                                            >“Uh-huh. It’s like she’s Rarity and you’re her Spike.”

                                            That’s horrible. Please never put it that way again.

                                            >“Sorry.”

                                            You’re right, though. Except that Maud and I share the work. Like, sometimes, if I need a rest or something, then she’ll pull the cart, or she’ll break the rocks with the pickaxe.

                                            >“That’s nice.”

                                            It’s hard work, too. I mean, I’m sweating my ass off all day, even if it’s cool out.

                                            >“That’s . . . nice.”

                                            Maud works just as hard as I do, but I’ve never seen her break a sweat. Ever.

                                            >“Neither have I, actually.”

                                            >You reach down and grab at your flap again, exposing yourself to Fluttershy.

                                            The first day I come into work with this rip, I noticed that she started sweating. She’s acting different.

                                            >“How so?”

                                            She’s quiet.

                                            >“But she’s always quiet. I’d know.”

                                            I mean she’s really quiet.

                                            >“Oh.”

                                            And she stares.

                                            >“Maud stares.”

                                            >You stare at Fluttershy.

                                            >“. . . Oh, I see it now.”

                                            Yeah, you would know.

                                            >“I do.”

                                            She’s weirding me out, and I do not want another Rarity on my hands. Call me conceited if you want, but I’m just being careful.

                                            >“I won’t call you that. I don’t really like calling other ponies names.”

                                            >A heavy sigh heaves out from your chest.

                                            So I have to go in there and face Rarity.

                                            >“You know I actually, um, know a few things about sewing myself.”

                                            >You turn to her.

                                            You do?

                                            >Fluttershy’s ears twitch at your excitement.

                                            >“Well, yes, I do it more as a hobby–”

                                            Can you fix my rip?

                                            >“I’ve mended some blankets for my animal friends sometimes. I don’t think this is too different.”

                                            >Oh man, did a way out of this just fly into your lap?

                                            >Your voice rises.

                                            So if we went to your place, you could fix me up?

                                            >“Sure. Um, I mean, why not? If you have time–Eep!”

                                            >Overwhelmed with emotion, you erase all boundaries and scoop Fluttershy up into a hug.

                                            Fluttershy, you’re a lifesaver!

                                            >“Oh, um, it’s fine. It’s nothing.”

                                            Sorry, I’ll put you down.

                                            >“No, no, you can keep hugging me if you want to. I don’t mind it.”

                                            Nah, that’d be weird.

                                            >“Oh, okay. . . .”

                                            >You put her down and turn away from the dreaded boutique.

                                            Shall we?

                                            >The little royal purple door flies open.

                                            >Twisted lengths of tied sheets shoot out and coil around your neck and limbs, constricting you in soft, hoof-washed cloth.

                                            >Leave it to Rarity to make sure that your prison is at least clean.

                                            >Before the inevitable happens, you slowly turn to meet Fluttershy’s shocked eyes.

                                            If I don’t come back, tell Maud that I was never attracted to her.

                                            >“I will.”

                                            >Fluttershy watches helplessly as you’re dragged screaming and thrashing into the diamond doorway of pure evil.

                                            >The door slams shut.

                                            >Fluttershy stands there, her eyes sometimes following the tracks in the dirt that you left behind.

                                            >Then Rainbow Dash lands next to her.

                                            >“Well, he’s toast.”

                                            >She turns to meet the shock on Fluttershy’s frozen eyes.

                                            >“Want to go grab a bite? I’m starving. . . . Fluttershy?”

                                            >Only the appearance of the Royal Guard shakes Fluttershy out from her stupor.

                                            >“Miss,” the guard says, “are you the tall disheveled ape that ponies have been complaining about?”

                                            >“Nah,” Rainbow Dash says. “He’s in there, getting raped.”

                                            >“Oh, I’m sorry. Carry on, then.”

                                            >The guard looks to Carousel Boutique and chuckles a little before leaving.

                                            >Rainbow Dash bumps Fluttershy with her wing.

                                            >“Come on, I’m hungry.”

                                            >“But Rainbow Dash, don’t you think we should do something to help him?”

                                            >Dash raises an eyebrow at her.

                                            >“What, you mean you want to go in there? With Rarity?”

                                            >Fluttershy flinches.

                                            >“W-Well, no. But I just . . . We should do something, shouldn’t we?”

                                            >“Like what?”

                                            >Fluttershy thinks.

                                            >“I’m not sure, actually.”

                                            >Dash groans.

                                            >“Alright, fine, I’ll figure something out, but then we’re eating right when it’s over.”

                                            >“Yay!”

                                            >Fluttershy covers her mouth.

                                            >“Um, I mean, I didn’t mean to be so loud, but thank goodness. Thank you, Rainbow Dash.”

                                            >“Yeah, yeah, I know I’m awesome.”

                                            >“So how are we going to help?”

                                            >“I don’t know. I said he was toast, remember?”

                                            >“Oh. . . .”


                                            >The cloth tentacles uncoil themselves from around your body and dispense you down facefirst onto the floor.

                                            >Light tinkling is heard as a familiar aquamarine aura surrounds the door.

                                            >You hear the deadbolt slide into place, and the latch to the lock being broken off.

                                            >The tentacles retract all the way back through the workroom until they’re behind a nearby door.

                                            >Impatient humming rises from the din of silence.

                                            >It’s coming from the drafting room, and it gets louder and more impatient the closer you get.

                                            >Until finally you’re standing in the doorway, faced with the backside of Rarity as she works at her sewing machine.

                                            >It’s not too late.

                                            >You could still turn back and try to find a way out.

                                            >Rarity isn’t going to accept your money, and you have no idea just what it is she’s going to want in return for mending your pants.

                                            >Although you do have an idea. . . .

                                            >Rarity spins her chair around then and lets out a shrill gasp when she sees you.

                                            >“Darling!”

                                            >You swear it rattled the windows it was so fucking loud.

                                            >“So nice of you to finally drop in on me, to quote a phrase.”

                                            >She forces a brief chuckle.

                                            >“Don’t just stand there, dear. Come in, come in!”

                                            >You hardly take a step before your shirt snags on a sharp edge of wood that’s jutting out from the doorframe.

                                            >“Oh, do mind yourself coming in. I keep meaning to have that snag repaired, but time is fashion, and I have to sacrifice one if I am to keep up with the other, aren’t I?”

                                            Sure.

                                            >You pull yourself free and you and Rarity meet at the center of the room.

                                            >She clears her throat.

                                            >“Now then, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

                                            >Her horn glows and you grab the bottom of your shirt before she can lift it up.

                                            >So she starts unbuttoning your pants.

                                            >“Quickly now, darling. Time is of the essence, as I said before.”

                                            Why are you trying to strip me?

                                            >Besides the obvious reason, of course.

                                            >“Well, aren’t you here for some new clothes? I have to retake your measurements.”

                                            >She waves a limp hoof your way.

                                            >“So, please, be a dear and take your clothes off. All the way, please. Chop chop.”

                                            >You grunt and swipe her magic away from you.

                                            I’m not here for new clothes. You know why I’m here.

                                            >A shrewd grin appears as she looks at you.

                                            >“To see me, of course. I know, and I am flattered that you have finally decided to make an honest lady out of me.”

                                            We’re not playing this game, Rarity.

                                            >“What game?”

                                            No innuendo, please. Okay? I’m not making an honest lady out of you.

                                            >“Oh, but you are. Wasn’t it I who said that one day you would come to me on your own?”

                                            You dragged me in here with bedsheet tentacles.

                                            >“Yes, well, perhaps I did have to give you one final push, but you can’t possibly blame me. You were standing just right outside the door.”

                                            I was down the street.

                                            >“Let’s not start middling about the details of who dragged who into my boutique.”

                                            >She steps forward and looks up at you.

                                            >“After all, I think that I have been waiting quite long enough for this.”

                                            >You can read her clearly, hear the purring of her soul as her eyes drink you in.

                                            >They’re easy to read.

                                            >They say “You’re in for it, now!”

                                            >Then she closes them and, with a hum, spins around and walks back towards her workbench.

                                            >She begins organizing all of her wayward pins and needles and tapes and spools and other supplies.

                                            >“So, I’m assuming you have some business with little ol’ Rarity. Care to tell me about it, darling?”

                                            >You catch a breath you didn’t know you were holding and respond.

                                            My work pants need some fixing.

                                            >“Ah, yes, your”--she searches for the word–“fatigues.”

                                            >She adjusts her glasses and glances over her shoulder at you.

                                            >“They’ve gotten quite dirty, I see. I’m surprised they didn’t rip sometime earlier.”

                                            >You look at her oddly.

                                            Rip?

                                            >“Yes, the inseam is ripped, isn’t that right?”

                                            I never told you that.

                                            >“I know, and I wasn’t trying to be rude.”

                                            >She smiles at you.

                                            >“I’m just a lady who happens to have a certain eye for these kinds of things.”

                                            An eye for what, looking at where my dick is?

                                            >“Don’t be crass, dear. That rip is absolutely ghastly. How could I not have noticed it the second you dropped in?”

                                            I guess it is pretty noticeable. . . . You can stop staring, by the way.

                                            >“I was just getting a good look is all,” she says, clearing her throat.

                                            A real good look.

                                            >“Certainly. Now then, take them off. All the way off.”

                                            Only if you don’t look.

                                            >“Come now, it’s only you and me.”

                                            >You stare.

                                            >She rolls her eyes.

                                            >“If you insist.”

                                            >She faces forward.

                                            >You take your pants off, watching her carefully the entire time.

                                            >Which is how you’re able to see that her tail is hiking up higher and higher the more you pull your pants down.

                                            >Your voice grows stern.

                                            Rarity.

                                            >“I’m not looking at you, I swear it.”

                                            >Just as your pants come off, she turns around and takes them in her magic.

                                            >There’s an odd, satisfied little smile on her face.

                                            >It doesn’t go away even when you cover up your crotch.

                                            What?

                                            >“That was quite a show you put on for me, darling. Watching my rump so intently as you took your pants off.”

                                            You said you weren’t watching.

                                            >“And I wasn’t watching you,” she says. “I was looking here.”

                                            >Using her magic, she pulls a little hand mirror out from behind her and catches your reflection in it.

                                            >She smiles.

                                            >She saw everything!

                                            Rarity!

                                            >“Oh, come now, it’s not like I saw anything I haven’t seen already. Think of it as payment for your having broken the lock on my door.”

                                            That was you!

                                            >“It was a necessity, so you wouldn’t leave before our business was done.”

                                            So I’d be trapped, you mean.

                                            >“Details, details,” she says glibly. “Middling details.”

                                            >Her nose wrinkles as she looks at the worn state of your pants.

                                            >“You know, when Spike and I go searching for gems, we don’t attract half as much dirt as you and Maud do. Is attracting dirt an important part of cataloging rocks that I’m not aware of?”

                                            >Before you can answer, Rarity presses the torn crotch of your pants to her muzzle and inhales deeply.

                                            >So deep that her back arches, setting all the little nerves up along her spine aflame within her.

                                            >You feel sick.

                                            >“Oh, that’s the good stuff!” she gasps.

                                            >You briefly see it in her, that wild look that her eyes develop whenever she’s about to lose herself completely to lust.

                                            >She almost went full rape on you.

                                            >And you never want Rarity to go full rape.

                                            >She wipes a bit of drool off from her lip and quickly recollects her poise.

                                            >“Anywho, this rip is not so bad. It should be a quick fix.”

                                            Good, then get on it.

                                            >“Not yet. First, we must discuss your payment.”

                                            I can pay you.

                                            >She rears back in shock, like you just called her a fucking whore.

                                            >Which you have done before.

                                            >But that was just between you, her, and everyone else that attended Twilight’s coronation.

                                            >So all of Equestria, really.

                                            >But she shouldn’t have gotten drunk and tried to suck your dick during karaoke–that’s out of line.

                                            >“Bits? Heavens, no! I can’t accept your money, darling, not for this. I had a rather different idea in mind, one more suited to your, shall we say, attributes.”

                                            >Her eyes drink you up again and you sneer.

                                            I am not screwing you for a pair of pants, Rarity.

                                            >“Oh, pooh! You’re no fun,” she pouts. “But don’t worry, while I was waiting for you to come to me, I had plenty of time to come up with some other ideas for things we could do together.”

                                            >You feel a cold sweat break out on your forehead.

                                            Other ideas?

                                            >“Fun ideas,” she says. “Trust me, you’ll love ‘em.”

                                            I don’t trust you.

                                            >She smiles.

                                            >You shudder.

                                            What do you want?

                                            >Her answer is simple:

                                            >“Indulgence.”

                                            >You don’t know what to make of that.

                                            >She tosses your pants aside and drinks you in with her eyes.

                                            >“I want you to indulge me. Would you like to know how you can do that?”

                                            >You’re not sure where she’s going with this but it can’t be good.

                                            >She lets out a soft laugh as she looks at you.

                                            >“Don’t know yet, darling? Having trouble deciding?”

                                            >She saunters up to you, her hips wiggling and begging to be handled.

                                            >Aquamarine magic sparkles at your collar and she gently pulls you down to her eye level.

                                            >Her smile, her eyes, they take you all in.

                                            >Then it comes.

                                            >Her words, a breath, a moan, warm as they caresses your face.

                                            >“I’m an editor, you know.”

                                            What?

                                            >“For Fluttershy,” she says. “Do you know what she writes?”

                                            >Rarity pulls you so close to her face that your noses are touching.

                                            >She sighs dreamily.

                                            >“Fluttershy writes the dirtiest, most debauched interspecies smut that I have ever read.”

                                            Wait, what?

                                            >“And do you know how much of it I have read?”

                                            >You think for a second.

                                            Oh God, no!

                                            >“Yes,” she purrs. “I hope you know where I’m going with all this.”

                                            >She bites her lip, her eyes looking into yours.

                                            >You’ve never needed an adult more in your life than you do right now.


                                            I need and I’ve been dreaming of you, my lady.

                                            >You address the costumed mannequin on stage, caressing its face.

                                            Oh, lady Charity, you are the light of my life, the fire of my loins, the–

                                            >“No, no, no! Darling!” Rarity shouts. “Cut! CUT!!!”

                                            >In a fit of rage, she tosses her script with all her might.

                                            >A small pyramid of spools that’s piled up on one of her desks across the room is destroyed in an instant.

                                            >You turn to her, exasperated.

                                            What is it now?

                                            >“Are you kidding me?” she hisses. “That was horrible.”

                                            Then you get up here on stage and do it.

                                            >“I am the director, darling. You are the actor.”

                                            I’m not an actor.

                                            >“That’s because you’re not acting. Where is the drama, the passion?! I’m only hearing the words from you right now. I want to feel your performance, darling, and all you’re making me feel is dead.”

                                            >You only half-listen to her tirade.

                                            >You’re too busy pulling the sequin-covered fabric out from your crotch to listen fully.

                                            >The singlet is riding up again.

                                            >Also, you hate Rarity.

                                            Rarity, this costume is way too tight.

                                            >“It’s part of your character. You’re a minotaur trying to seduce a young, dazzling pony noble. A beast and a beauty, if you will. Some awkwardness is necessary. I want it. But you know what I don’t want?”

                                            No.

                                            >You speak through gritted teeth.

                                            What don’t you want?

                                            >“I don’t want awkwardness in your acting! Only in your character, and even then, only when you aren’t acting rogue and brutish–if what you’re doing can even be called acting.”

                                            >You’re fucking livid.

                                            I! Am not! An actor!

                                            >“I know, darling. Believe me, I know. But we shall change that by the end of this scene.”

                                            And what is the end of this scene? I’d look at the script, but someone threw a tantrum and tossed it over–

                                            >“The love scene!”

                                            >Dammit.

                                            >You were dreading this.

                                            Rarity, I am not humping the mannequin.

                                            >She is taken aback.

                                            >“What?! Goodness, no. Of course you aren’t, that would be silly.”

                                            Yeah, I know.

                                            >“That’s why you’ll be making love to this.”

                                            >She throws a pillow at you.

                                            >Only it’s not a pillow.

                                            >It’s a fucking dakimakura.

                                            >Of Rarity.

                                            >And on the back, it has you and her cuddling.

                                            >Amazingly, no part of the pillow seems to be stained.

                                            Goddammit, I was wondering why her name was lady Charity.

                                            >“Yes, that is why it’s called indulgence. Let’s take it from the top, and I want to feel it this time!”

                                            Are you even working on my pants?

                                            >“I am,” she says. “I’ve done a stitch.”

                                            How many?

                                            >She regards you oddly.

                                            >“I said I’ve done a stitch.”

                                            One stitch? It’s been hours, Rarity!

                                            >“And we’re going to keep at it until we get this right. So, please, seduce the body pillow dear. Chop chop!”

                                            >All you want to do is pick up lady Charity and smash Rarity in the head with her.

                                            >But you can’t.

                                            >You need those pants.

                                            >This may be hell, but at least you’re not afraid.

                                            >It scares you to think what Maud might do to you if she keeps seeing your exposed crotch all the time.

                                            >Once the rape takes hold of a mare, anything could come out of them.

                                            >What if, God forbid, Maud holds secret aspirations for the stage as well?

                                            >Maud Pie: actress.

                                            >Just the thought of it terrifies you.

                                            >So you stick your dick in the pillow and begin to grind into lady Charity.

                                            >“Yes, that’s it!” Rarity cries. “Make some noises, too. Don’t be shy. I want you to really give it to Charity!”

                                            >You’re starting to wish Rarity had just raped you instead.

                                            I’ll give you a minute, but that’s it.

                                            >“Oh, no, no  no,” she says, shaking her head. “This scene goes on for a good thirty more pages.”

                                            >Of course it does.

                                            >Fucking Fluttershy.


                                            >In the end, one pair of work pants was given in exchange for your dignity.

                                            >And the pillow is stained now, thanks to you.

                                            >Rarity knows it, too.

                                            >She’s been keeping it in the corner of her eye throughout your entire exchange.

                                            >You do not want to know what horrible things she’s going to do that pillow once you get out of here.

                                            >“Well, I quite enjoyed that. Thank you, darling. You may consider this lady to be indulged.”

                                            >You rip your now-mended pants out from her magic the very second she extends them.

                                            >She regards this with dull eyes.

                                            >“Please, don’t hurry on my account. I was beginning to enjoy your stay.”

                                            Well I’m not. And if I’m lucky, I’ll never have to see you again.

                                            >“I’ll be in your dreams, though.”

                                            At least let me put the pants on before I go.

                                            >“Ah, no can do. That was part of our deal, remember?”

                                            >You do.

                                            >Regrettably.

                                            >“Parting is such sweet sorrow, but I do so love to watch your backside wiggle when you go.”

                                            Well, here, get a good look.

                                            >You turn and head for the door in stride.

                                            Goodbye, lady Charity.

                                            >The snag in the doorframe grabs hold of the hole in your shirt.

                                            >You feel a loud rip soar past your arm and continue to tear across your back.

                                            >You try to spin around to correct yourself but you were just going too fast, and the shirt continues to rip.

                                            >It peels off of your body and the lost fabric drops down around your ankles.

                                            >Only the collar and some small shoulder covering is left.

                                            >The rest of you is exposed.

                                            >Before Rarity.

                                            >You hear her gasp in the silence.

                                            >Not a trace of white can be seen behind the burning flames that rest on her cheeks.

                                            >“D-Darling, look at how shameless you are, exposing yourself to a lady this way.”

                                            >A shudder wracks her body as she soaks in your bare, pale chest and hairy stomach.

                                            >She’s trembling; her face is burning and clammy with sweat.

                                            >You don’t like it.

                                            Rarity. . . .

                                            >“I mean, just the boldness of it all, coming into my own home and teasing me like you are.”

                                            >She wipes an errant string of drool away from her mouth and begins crossing the room towards you.

                                            Rarity, don’t.

                                            >“And you were about to get away, and I was going to let it happen too!”

                                            >She lets out a short, mocking laugh.

                                            >“Oh, Rarity, you really must learn to read the room sometimes.”

                                            We had a deal, Rarity. I’m allowed to leave.

                                            >“Yes, you are, but you simply cannot. Not now, not anymore.”

                                            >The look in her eyes changes.

                                            >It’s a wild look.

                                            >“We are not finished here yet.”

                                            >She’s gone full rape.

                                            >She stops just a few feet away from you, regarding you like the cat that’s cornered the mouse.

                                            >Behind you is the sound of metal being slid into place.

                                            >It’s the deadbolt.

                                            >The door’s been unlocked.

                                            >Rarity clears her throat.

                                            >“You may try to escape, if you must.”

                                            >You watch her for a moment.

                                            >Then you turn on your heel and sprint like a madman.

                                            >Rarity doesn’t chase you.

                                            >“Oh my, I do love watching you go.”

                                            >Goddamn, she’s really horny.

                                            >You’re toast if she catches you.

                                            >Soon the door is just a few steps away.

                                            >You reach out for the knob.

                                            >A cloth tentacle coils itself around your wrist, and more wrap themselves around your body until they are effortlessly holding you back.

                                            >With your hand just inches away from the doorknob.

                                            >You can almost swipe the surface of it with your finger.

                                            >You reach for it.

                                            >Only to be pulled back and dragged along the floor, all the way back into the drafting room.

                                            >Soon you’re laid out on the floor with your limbs pulled taut and held outwards by the tentacles.

                                            >You can’t move; it’s like you’ve been tied to a rack.

                                            >She climbs on top of you and straddles your waist.

                                            >When she looks down at you–that look in her eyes, you see it.

                                            >Pure evil.

                                            Rari–

                                            >“Oh, please.”

                                            >She stuffs the crotch of your singlet into your mouth, gently shushing you as she does.

                                            >“Call me Charity, darling.”


                                            >“You know, I had no idea you were a writer, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash says.

                                            >Fluttershy, who didn’t hear her, is blushing an even darker shade of red than Rarity.

                                            >“Goodness!”

                                            >“I told you he was toast,” Rainbow Dash says. “Hang on, be quiet. It’s getting really good now.”

                                            >The two of them press their ears harder against the end of their drinking glasses.

                                            >They can hear everything inside the boutique.

                                            >“She doesn’t need to be so rough with him,” Fluttershy says.

                                            >“Yeah, maybe the next story you write, you’ll take it easy a little, huh?”

                                            >Fluttershy looks at her.

                                            >“Rainbow Dash, my story ended a long time ago.”

                                            >Dash blinks.

                                            >“So, wait, you mean this isn’t still your story?”

                                            >“No.”

                                            >“So Rarity is really . . . ?”

                                            >Too embarrassed now to speak, Fluttershy simply nods.

                                            >Dash folds her ears.

                                            >“Oh.”

                                            >It’s silent.

                                            >“Rarity is kind of messed up, huh?” Dash says.

                                            >“Yeah.”

                                            >More silence.

                                            >Until the two of them press their ears back against the glasses.

                                            >They listen.

                                            >“Wow!” Dash says. “Okay, I take it back. Rarity is really messed up.”

                                            >“Poor little guy. I’ll never write again!”

                                            >“But this is gold. This is–Maud?”

                                            >“Maud? Oh, I’m supposed to tell you something.”

                                            >“Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash–please move.”


                                            >The wall of the Carousel Boutique drafting room explodes, sending clouds of dust and shards of drywall all over you and Rarity.

                                            >Emerging out from the hole, which looks like a carriage has just run through it, is Maud Pie.

                                            >Dust and wall crumbs cling to the now ghostly-white mare.

                                            >Her face is blank, her stare is slightly more intense than normal.

                                            >She regards the scene before her.

                                            >Rarity on top of you.

                                            >She takes one deep breath.

                                            >“Get off of my human.”

                                            >Rarity clears her throat.

                                            >“Maud Pie, how . . . nice to see you.”

                                            >Maud says nothing.

                                            >“Come now, Maud, surely we can talk this through like civil–Oh Celestia!”

                                            >Rarity barely misses having her head taken off by a bowling ball-sized chunk of drywall.

                                            >Maud blows steam through her nose.

                                            >“He’s mine.”

                                            >They regard each other for a moment.

                                            >Rarity snaps.

                                            >“Over my dead body!”

                                            >The cloth tentacles unbind themselves from you and start for Maud.

                                            >To be fair, they get about halfway there before Maud sends Rarity flying across the room.

                                            >A large chunk of drywall thrown straight into her horsey solar plexus will do that.

                                            >Rarity tumbles into a heap in a remote corner of the room and lies still.

                                            >Maud helps you up and you dust yourself off.

                                            >“Are you okay?”

                                            Yeah, I think so. I think there’s dust in my throat.

                                            >“It’s very likely.”

                                            >You look at the hole in Rarity’s wall.

                                            How’d you manage to do that?

                                            >“I pretended it was a rock.”

                                            You’re joking, right?

                                            >Maud blinks.

                                            >You look at her.

                                            >She’s not kidding.

                                            >Okay, note to self: not all ponies are as weak as Rainbow Dash.

                                            >Wait, is that Rainbow Dash peeking in on you?

                                            >And Fluttershy?

                                            >Where they there the entire time you were being raped?

                                            Hey!

                                            >Their eyes widen at being caught and the two of them quickly duck back behind cover.

                                            >Whatever.

                                            >You turn back to thank Maud.

                                            >Only she’s still staring at you.

                                            >Silently staring at your practically nude body.

                                            >All covered in dust and dirt.

                                            >And she’s staring hard.

                                            >So hard that she’s sweating.

                                            >It scares you.

                                            Maud . . . ?

                                            >“I pretended it was a rock that was keeping me from you.”

                                            Uh, what?

                                            >She steps forward.

                                            Maud?

                                            >She licks her lips.

                                            Maud!

                                            >“Love me, you big rock.”

                                            Oh God, no!

                                            >“Waa-haa-haa!”

                                            >Maud’s eyes open slightly when she feels Rarity wrap her arm around her neck.

                                            >The fashionista struggles to crush Maud’s windpipe.

                                            >“Lady Charity doesn’t give up so easily, you brute!”

                                            >Maud thrashes about the room as Rarity hangs on for dear life, screaming the entire time.

                                            >“You are going to clean this mess, you are going to pay for the damage that you’ve done to my boutique, and, most of all, you are going to stop trying to steal my man!”

                                            >In an instant, Maud stops flailing.

                                            >Then she flips Rarity over her shoulder and tosses her across the room.

                                            >Rarity skids across the littered floor, like a stone skipping over water, before she crashes against the wall and crumples into a heap.

                                            >Maud blinks.

                                            >Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy watch.

                                            >“Is it bad that I think this is kind of awesome?”

                                            >“Oh, I hope they’re not hurt.”

                                            >And you.

                                            >You ease a step back towards the hole.

                                            >Maud turns on you instantly and stops you cold with her steeled eyes.

                                            >“Don’t–”

                                            >Rarity screams like a banshee and karate kicks Maud in the ribs.

                                            >It sends her flying into the opposite wall.

                                            >“Take that, you ruffian!”

                                            >Maud rises up off the floor slowly.

                                            >She wipes a drop of blood off her chin and regards the red smear on her hoof for a moment.

                                            >Then she looks at Rarity.

                                            >“You’re done.”

                                            >Maud picks up a chunk of drywall.

                                            >Rarity, not backing down, brings her cloth tentacles back to life.

                                            >“Bring it on, you big gray eyesore! I hate to upset Pinkie Pie, but she’s going to have one less sister once I’m finished with you.”

                                            >They each let out a war cry–Maud’s is more of a subdued groan–and then they attack.

                                            >You dodge drywall cannonballs and swipes from tentacles before you finally manage to escape from the walls of that frilly purple hellhole.

                                            >You assess yourself once you’re free.

                                            >You have no shirt, except for on your shoulders, and your balls are chafing because there’s bits of drywall stuck inside your underwear.

                                            >The pants you worked so hard to have fixed are gone.

                                            >But so is your job, most likely, so whatever.

                                            >Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy come up on each side of you.

                                            >“Man, that was so awesome! Who do you think is gonna win?”

                                            >Fluttershy immediately begins flying all around you, fretting about everything.

                                            >“You’re not hurt, are you? I should have gone in with you. I’m so sorry. Can you ever forgive me?”

                                            >You wave them both off.

                                            I’m fine. Just pretty tired.

                                            >You briefly glance at the two brawling mares behind you.

                                            And I don’t think it’s safe for me to go home tonight.

                                            >“Not unless you want to get raped.”

                                            Thank you, Rainbow Dash, that’s what I was implying.

                                            >“You can stay with me!”

                                            >You turn towards Fluttershy.

                                            >She swallows a lump in her throat and her eyes widen, as though she surprised even herself with her outburst.

                                            >“I mean, if you want to.”

                                            >You regard her for a moment before sighing.

                                            Alright, but just for a little while.

                                            >“Yay!”

                                            And because I want to talk to you a little bit about your writing career.

                                            >Fluttershy folds her ears.

                                            >“Oh, right. That.”

                                            >“She is pretty good, isn’t she?” Rainbow Dash says.

                                            >You ignore her.

                                            I’m going on ahead. I need a shower.

                                            >And you do so.

                                            >You stride down the street, ignoring the countless mares that are now staring at you as you pass them by.

                                            >Now alone with Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy whips her tail in delight.

                                            >“Isn’t this great? He’s going to be staying with me.”

                                            >“But I’m still hungry!” Rainbow Dash groans.

                                            >“We can eat at my cottage,” Fluttershy says. “And, well . . .”

                                            >She begins mumbling before hiding her bashful smile behind her mane.

                                            >She’s blushing fiercely.

                                            >Rainbow Dash looks at her.

                                            >“What?”

                                            >“Well, maybe we can get him to wrestle with both of us this time.”

                                            >Dash’s eyes widen at the realization.

                                            >“Y-You know, just as a favor for me letting him stay with us for a while.”

                                            >Rainbow Dash thinks for a moment.

                                            >“You don’t have any clothes he can fit into, do you?”

                                            >“Nothing at all.”

                                            >“So he’d be, like, practically naked while he wrestled us, wouldn’t he?”

                                            >“Oh my, yes,” Fluttershy says, smiling.

                                            >Dash pumps her hoof in the air.

                                            >“Right on! I am so in.”

                                            >“Yay!”

                                            >“But he can’t get any more clothes on the way.”

                                            >Fluttershy gasps.

                                            >“Oh, you’re right. We need to make sure he goes straight to my cottage.”

                                            >“We better catch up with him. Come on.”

                                            >And so they fly after your barely-covered backside, the look in their eyes having changed.