Whorn: A Debutante's Dark Descent Into Debauchery

Dear Diary,

I am writing to you from the train making its way to Dodge Junction and I cannot arrive at my destination soon enough. I awoke this morning in a malaise, most likely due to my lack of sleep. I was in no condition to bother cooking a proper breakfast so I ate the first thing I could find: a half full bag of nacho cheese corn chips that Pinkie Pie had left behind. It was hardly suitable breakfast fare but I was positively ravenous. As I wolfed them down, it had occurred to me that I skipped lunch as well as dinner the day before. I can understand being so preoccupied that I miss out on one meal... but two? How forgetful of me.

I’ve arranged for Sweetie Belle to stop by my house and look after Opal during my absence. I left her a note instructing her to let my friends know that I’ve left town on some business and should be back in a day or so. Oh, Diary, I’m at my wit’s end with paranoia. If I’m seen entering an establishment as disreputable as a brothel, my character may come into question, thus tarnishing my brand past the point of repair. After all, who would want to buy a dress designed by a known whoremonger? To ensure my anonymity, I dyed my mane and tail blond.

Rarity? With a blond mane and tail? BAHAHAHA!! Oh, my Celestia, I would’ve given anything to have seen that.

I think it would have looked lovely. Maybe someday she’ll dye them blond again.

I made a simple frock for my trip, the simplest that I could bring myself to design. I wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing it. It was perfect. As far as anypony at the train station knew, I was just another face in the cheaply garbed crowd. I’ve been checking out some of the stallions who share this car with me. They’re not bad. I only hope that the stallions at the brothel are as attractive as these fine specimens.

Oh, my stars, would you listen to me? I’m objectifying stallions like some flyblown bar floozy.

Rarity was just being too hard on herself here. There ain’t nothing wrong with eyeballing stallions. Why, shoot, sometimes if I see one that I think has a cute tush, I’ll even tell him so. And why shouldn’t I? I’m just being honest.

Really, AJ? Did you forget about the time you kicked a stallion in the face for a cat call? What a hypocrite.

Dagnabbit! You always have to bring up something to make me look bad, don’t you, Rainbow? Land sakes! Sometimes I think that you enjoy doing that more than you enjoy flying.

I’m just saying that the cat call and your “tush appreciation” declarations are the same thing. Do you think you get a pass because you’re a mare? That’s a load of sexist hooey. The next time you tell a stallion that you like his butt and his ticked off wife comes up to you and kicks you in the face, you would have zero grounds for complaint. Not to mention that I’d get a pretty good laugh out of it.

And that’s another thing you enjoy doing: having a laugh at my expense! How about I kick you in the face, Rainbow? Got any grounds for complaint about that?

Why should I? You can’t touch me if you’re dreaming, which is what you must be doing if you think you can land a kick on me!

Guys! The good ponies here at the offices of Simon & Horseshuster who could easily have us arrested for disorderly conduct can only allot so many extra pages to this book. Our bonus commentary should be used to enhance the story, not hijack it. Let’s try to keep our comments relevant and our acts of violence to a minimum, shall we?

She started it!

Did not!

Oh, my, please don't fight, girls.

It’s okay, Fluttershy. They only fight as much as they do because it’s the only way they know how to relieve the repressed sexual tension between them. Take this away from them and the only thing they’ll have left to spice up their love lives are their own right forehooves.

Okay, Applejack and Rainbow Dash have just left the building in pursuit of Pinkie Pie so I’d like to apologize on their behalf for getting us so far off track. Let’s return to Rarity's story, shall we?

And I’m about to patronize a brothel, of all places. What happened to the wholesome and chaste lady who was above such things? Where is my self respect? Oh, my! I’m literally on the fast track to self destruction! I’m risking my future to chase rainbows! It’s not too late. The Pinkie Pie thing was a fluke. I don’t even know for sure that my horn can do that a second time. As soon as this train pulls into Dodge Junction, I’m going to march right up to the ticket booth to book passage back to Ponyville. Oh, Diary, thank you for being here for me. Had I not brought you along, I might not have collected my thoughts soon enough to prevent almost certain disaster. I think I shall take a nap for the rest of the trip. We'll catch up later.

Dear Diary,

I write to you from inside the Dodge Junction train station. I know that I said I would return to Ponyville as soon as I got here but it was a two hour trip and I couldn't sleep after all. During the ride, I got to thinking and you should know that I have decided not to leave this place until I’ve received the hornjob I set out to find. My previous decision to call the whole thing off was based on my fear of being recognized and subsequently ostracized. That obstacle has been eliminated. Please allow me to share my new line of thinking with you before you pass judgment.

As you know, my special talent is locating gems and harvesting them from the earth. I have used this talent to make my already beautiful outfits even more magnificent and I sell my creations to customers for a healthy profit.

What would you think, dear Diary, if I were to tell you that my special talent was actually a metaphor?

Hear me out.

Pinkie Pie’s cutie mark manifested itself when she threw a party for her family which made them smile. She discovered that she had a special talent for making other ponies happy. They were the first recipients of a Pinkie Pie party but Pinkie didn’t limit herself to throwing parties exclusively for them. What kind of life would she have had – no, what kind of life would all of us have had – had she adhered to as narrow an interpretation of her special talent as that? She saw the smiles she gave her family as a metaphor for the millions of other ponies in Equestria whose lives she had the potential to improve. She’s brought smiles to many faces since then and nopony thought any worse of her for branching out beyond what started her cutie mark.

So if Pinkie didn’t limit herself, why should I?

As I said, I locate gems and harvest them from the earth. Metaphorically, that could be read as “I recognize and retrieve things of value that are generally unseen or overlooked by others”. I also said that I use gems to make my beautiful outfits even more magnificent. If we examine this metaphorically, we get “I enhance that which I have already made beautiful”. In this case, what I have already made beautiful would be my own life. And selling my creations for a healthy profit? Obviously, it means that while I undertake all my endeavors for at least some semblance of a return investment, I benevolently beautify Equestria at the same time. Put it all together and what do you get?

1. I found the amazing goddess senses.

2. I had a fabulous life to start with.

3. My life will become even more fabulous with the goddess senses and that will make for a better Equestria.

At no point has anypony objected to how I’ve used my special talents. But for argument’s sake, let’s say that somepony did. What if somepony said that gems were not intended to be used for such things? What if they said that my work was a perversion of nature and that gems exist for their own purpose? Would I continue doing what I know will result in something beautiful as well as profitable? Or would I listen to that pony and cease production? I think you’ve known me long enough to know my answer, Diary. By choosing not to listen to that one pony, my life would be no different. So what difference would not listening to two such ponies make? And if two opinions wouldn’t matter, why would five? Or twenty? Or hundreds? No matter the number, their disapproval is insignificant.

Who better than I to judge what is or isn’t valuable? My designs have caught the eye of Equestria’s elite. Only a hoofful of ponies living today can lay claim to such an achievement. If anypony cannot see that what I’m about to do is no different than the branching out that Pinkie Pie has done (and that it’s hardly different than what I’ve always done) then they are simply shortsighted and I can’t be bothered to explain it to them. Let them recognize me. The end justifies the means. I didn’t choose a hornjob as the method of gaining my goddess senses but if that’s what I require to regain them, I shall acquire one; scandal or no. I’m certain that Dodge Junction’s economy won’t object to the shot in the foreleg that my bits will provide.

My Celestia, the very thought of the magnificent dresses I can see myself making when I’ve permanently regained my goddess senses has got every hair on my coat standing on end! All of Equestria will shine with my new creations. If that isn’t worth risking everything to achieve, I don’t know what is.

Morality is subjective and everything is open to interpretation. Call that justification if you must but it’s my opinion and I happen to be quite fond of my own opinions.

I think I may have spotted a "working mare". I'll find some nonchalant way of asking her about the brothel. Ta ta for now, Diary.

Update: The mare I spoke with was indeed familiar with the brothel and she gave me the information I needed to speak to someone in charge. It may come as no surprise to you but Dodge Junction is not my kind of town. Dirt roads, tumbleweeds, and a general fashion sense governed by that most dreadful of things: practicality. I'm going to run. I don't fancy staying here a moment longer than I need to. With any luck, the masterpieces that I have yet to design shall be bought and worn by the ponies of this town. I can't think of a better start.

I thought I recognized the address that the mare gave me but I assumed that I was mistaken. Now that I'm standing here in front of it, I know that there's no mistake.

This... is The Cherry Hill Ranch.

I swear that I had no idea that Miss Jubilee was in charge of a brothel back when I worked for her as a farmpony which was the only work I did for her. She sure knows a heck of a lot about cherry farming but then I guess she’d have to in order to run one as a successful cover operation. Shoot, I didn’t even know what a brothel was until I asked Big Macintosh. Come to think of it, I wonder how he knew what a brothel was. Heh, maybe he’s been to one.

Eeyup.

(Author's edit: That wasn't Big Macintosh, Applejack. That was just me messing with you. Tee hee!)