Author's Note

All feedback greatly appreciated (especially if you're downvoting, I'd love to know why, so that I can improve.) - Squirrel

The Spell

The afternoon air was oppressive; A downpour was long overdue. The weatherponies, with characteristic laziness, had assured the town that they would rectify this, sometime early this afternoon, or possibly this evening. In a field below the grey clouds, a lone figure was hammering a signpost into the earth, with a mallet held floating in the air before them by “the Unfathomable Mystical Energies of the Beyond”. Otherwise known as “a basic levitation spell”.

Of course (thud) the weatherponies didn't give thought to anypony (thud) that they might incon-(swish)-venience. The mallet spun in the air, as it missed the post entirely.

At 5' 11” (180cm), Trixie Lulamoon stood taller than most mares, though the platform hoofboots made up part of that, and her trademark pointed hat only added to her grand stature. A purple, broad-collared cloak swept back dramatically from her shoulders, and her gemstone pendant emphasised her, let's be honest, magnificent breasts, her enchanting blue skin bared by her unbuttoned white shirt.

When the mallet missed the post for the third time, she let out a small (completely understandable) grunt of frustration, stepped forward, and gripped the mallet and post in her purple-gloved hands. As she set her hooves shoulder-width apart, her knee-length skirt rode up slightly, and as she swung the mallet, her glorious silver-blue tail swayed behind her. She most certainly was not (thud) angry at having to cancel her afternoon show — clearly nopony would show up to an open-air performance while a rainstorm loomed. Not that the useless (thud) weatherponies appreciated that. No, anger would be unprofessional, she was merely … annoyed.

Not that they listened to her perfectly valid (thud) complaints. They were to busy spreading malicious (swish, gah!) rumours, just like everypony else, since the Ponyville “incidents” (thud). She wasn't angry at winding up in some poxy (thud) little town on the outskirts of nowhere, either. Nor at the rumours which still (thud) followed here everywhere, or the useless workponies who couldn't get a simple caravan right (swish, squish, aah!).

She dropped the mallet and clutched her left hand in her right, hopping on the spot for a moment before glaring at the signpost. It was probably in far enough by now; She had only set it up as a courtesy, anyway. She smirked slightly at the thought of the locals being dumb enough to stand out in the rain wondering when the show was starting. With a sigh and a glimmer of magic from her horn, she flicked the mallet up off the ground and gently slipped it back into her tool-belt, before turning and striding back towards her … current residence, smoothing down her skirt as she went. Her hand didn't hurt much, anyway.

She was (somewhat) calmer as she reached the door to her cabin. The local mayor had been graceful enough to offer her …reasonable… accommodation while her caravan was fixed, which was only fair, since the crash had been entirely not her fault. As she crossed the threshold, she removed her hat and gloves, by hand, while a steady glow from her horn caused her belt, and the straps on her boots, to unwind themselves. As she stepped out of the boots, she allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction. Why, even a month ago she would have needed to sit down and remove her boots one at a time. Her private studies were making her (already great) magics more powerful than ever, and broadening their use, beyond the show-magic that had always been her speciality.

As she headed to the kitchen, to quench her thirst from performing manual labour in this heat, she glanced over the shelves full of spellbooks. “Not this afternoon”, she decided. She was in no mood to wrestle with the convoluted writings of boring, dusty academics. Why couldn't spellbooks be written by somepony with a sense of presentation, who could actually make the topic interesting?

Less than a minute later, she slumped onto her bed, the remaining half-glass of water on the table beside her. She was just so frustrated, in more ways than one. What she really wanted was to find a local stallion, strong but silent, with muscles built from years of farm work. Her right hand stroked her outer thigh as she elaborated the fantasy. She could bring him back here, offer him a cool drink, a “private show”…and wind up with him laughing at her. Her hand went back to the bed as she growled in annoyance. There had been a time when she could have her pick of eligible stallions, when they wouldn't dare be indiscreet, when she would never have been left so…unsatisfied.

She raised her hand to the air above her face, staring at her own fingers for a while. Of course, she could “take care of herself”, but it was just so…crude. A mare of her obvious beauty should have no need to do so. The think that such an unrivalled prodigy of magic would have to resort to such…

The words repeated in her head — “prodigy of magic” … “magic” — in barely a heartbeat she was back on her hooves, running a finger over the books on her shelves. Surely the repressed, lonely, nerds who had written these books had devised all sorts of spell for just this occasion. Of course they would be a bunch of desperate perverts who would think of doing just that. So there should be something in here to “help” her, right? It seemed only fair to put such spells to use to help a — temporarily romantically inconvenienced mare with perfectly normal, healthy needs.

The trouble with levitation, with many spells for that matter, is that they needed focus, concentration, a continuous flow of magic. Which meant that, if anything distracted the caster, the spell would end. Which could make for some very frustrating evenings. Not that Trixie had any experience in that regard. Not much experience, anyway. In any case, she needed an autonomous spell — one that, once cast, would run by itself.

Trixie had already skimmed the contents of each book, so she had a rough idea what was in each one, it was just a case of finding a spell that would meet her needs. A moment later she had picked a book off the shelf, and was opening it onto her desk in the corner of the room.
Just what she was looking for…