Standing still was one of Tom’s best traits, along with his masculinity and ability with the women. It took effort to move him physically or emotionally. A true bastion of standing for what he believed in. It was incredibly erotic to behold, so said the female population of Ponyville. Erotic and stoic have long been the traits of true importance. Something dubbed by the ponies there as being indescribable since he was made of stone. Because he was a rock. And they were ponies. Many eyebrows were raised at this.
“I could feel myself faint just coming close to him.” A common saying.
“He noticed me but didn’t say a word.” Another saying.
“I was not overcome by the testosterone and complete eroticy that was Tom ‘Better Than You’ Rock.” No one ever said that.
Now, for Tom, the clusters of mares trying to get his business for free was tiresome and annoying. Not that he showed it. He was a respectful block of sediment, after all. The only time he had ever given himself to another freely was back in Guadalajara to a bartender named Elise. The tapes of that night are coveted by everyone everywhere and have spawned multiple film adaptations and a book trilogy. Tom could distinctly remember that night. Her hooves on his jagged and rough backside. The smell of coconut in her mane. What a pony she was.
The night was like any other. The mares were the same every day. The pleasures he gave, however, were as diverse and exotic as ever. A client was moaning with pleasure below him as he thought up new ways to demonstrate his superiority over his coworkers. Music boomed and with every boom of the bass brought a new sound from the mare.
Tom stood there throughout it all, putting the other prostitutes to shame as he raked in the money. They stared at him with envy and respect as they went about their own inferior business. They wished for their senpai to notice them, but to no avail. He left them only with his blank, jagged expression which they cherished.
Tom, better known by his stage name “Rocco”, had just helped a generous client reach her climax when the doors of the establishment swung open. Tom looked over and was astonished to see it was his long-time rival and childhood friend Joe the Geode. Joe strode in with his usual flair, making the mares momentarily forget Tom’s presence.
Everyone could feel the tension in the room was thicker than stone. This was no chance encounter, of course. Joe had finally come to see which one of them was the bolder. It was time for a competition that had never been seen before by the eyes of mortals.
The patrons were lined up and separated into two groups, one for each competitor. This would be a test of endurance, style, and quality. Joe began as soon as the clock had, Tom only a second behind. The first mares in line were instantly awash in pleasure and ecstasy. They finished a minute later and then swapped to see who they preferred. On and off again they went, the tallies stacking ever higher, the margin between them never changing. Security ensured there were no seconds to be had, much to the dismay of the first in line.
Joe was the first to get ambitious. He began taking two at a time, causing the sounds of the building to increase dramatically in decibel and frequency. Tom was not to be outdone, though, and quickly and easily tacked on another to his queue.
The moaning and muttering of expletives filled the air in such a way it had aroused those all the way in the back who had no clear view of the spectacle. Even outside, the sounds of true excitement could be heard, drawing in passerby to investigate.
Joe and Tom were in fierce competition, now. Fueled by their desire to outdo the other, the number of participants they tacked on became larger and larger. The grunting and moaning became ever louder, but the scores remained equal.
It became apparent to both of them after they had gone through seven dozen volunteers that a tiebreaker was needed to settle their competition. One after another, mares rammed against the wall of security to be picked for seconds. Joe stared at Tom. Tom stared at Joe.
Rarity, who so happened to live three houses down from the brothel, had heard the boisterous cries for “more”. When the doors to the establishment opened, Tom couldn’t help but stare blankly as she walked in. A story best left untouched and not muttered existed between them.
A tale of deceit. Of love. Of betrayal.
Tom was recruited by Discord one day to play the role of a diamond and serve as delicious eye candy for some random mare. This was not difficult for Tom, seeing as he could be anything anyone anywhere wanted. The job had been hilariously easy and the mare oogled over him like so many before her. Tom was even carried by the foolish pony, and then again by another more grape-colored one.
After many hours of pleasuring the white pony in her own home, an unexpected disaster struck. The purple pony had returned and somehow caused the one who had once loved him with a flaming passion to cast him out onto the street like he was some back alley whore.
Tom couldn’t move himself after that for a long time, he was so overcome with confusion and thoughts of the betrayal. She had done something no one else could: chip away at his pride. It wasn’t until someone helped pick him up and drag him back to his work that he could finally live and forget that horrible day.
Rarity stared at Tom with similar thoughts, though in her version of the story, he had been the betrayer. Something wrought by her own delirium and fantasies. Something to forget. And now they were in the room, face to face.
The consensus among the mares who had already had their turn was that Rarity, a true paragon of tastefulness and refinement, would decide which competitor was the better. She walked up to the security who let her pass. She spared a glance at Tom before heading to Joe.
Joe, in all his craftiness, had saved a trick he learned from the jungle tribes for a moment such as this. The building was alive once more with the sound of sexual ecstasy. A few minutes passed after Joe had finished until Rarity regained her composure.
Tom was awash with anxiety. Joe was truly a genius in his art, a true opponent that he should have been more prepared for. Rarity reached Tom the Rock with a look of uncertainty and Tom began his work.
There was no deep moaning or yelling like what was seen before, though there were moments far and in between. And then it was over. Rarity headed off to give her vote, all the while causing Tom inner turmoil with every step she took.
Joe looked on with smugness as Rarity cast her vote. The official judging the competition looked at the piece of parchment with a stunned look on his face. “The winner by split decision… is Tom the Rock.”
Tom was at a loss for words. Some cried, some leapt for joy. Tom was taken aside and draped in fine silk and a crown of stone was placed on his head. Joe, in his shame, had to be brought out of the building by his cohorts. Tom felt great joy at this.
When the sense of pride and joy finally subsided in himself, Tom looked around to try and find Rarity. He had to give her his thanks. He had to ask her why she had chosen him. But alas, the white mare was nowhere to be seen.
Deep down, far below his cold and rigid exterior, Tom understood why Rarity had chosen him. It wasn’t a matter of his trained styles or exotic techniques. For that matter, it wasn’t even love that had persuaded Rarity to award Tom with the victory. No, the answer was much more simple than any of those trivial things.
It was because he was fucking awesome.
Author's Note
Why the hell isn't there a "Tom the Rock" option for the list of characters?
