Hypnotic Holiday 3: A Load Off Her Mind

Only mindless entertainment can alleviate the tedium of art’s manual aspect; how marvellous, then, that Rarity’s entertainment, quite mindless at the moment, is Twilight.

‘While I’m not against the pose,’ says Rarity, eyeing the mare at the other end of her workroom, sat on the floor, hooves dipping between spread legs, ‘I must say I adored the last. Assume it again, pet.’

The command spurred Twilight’s limbs. With a glass-eyed smile she says, ‘Yes, Mistress.’ She gets to her hooves, turns her back to Rarity, then puts her chin to the ground and her arse in the air. Her costume, a nurse’s uniform that doesn’t even pass her tail, and a thong barely covering her pussy, leaves the majority of her arse on show.

‘I love your bum, pet. So large and luscious.’

‘Mmmm. Thank you, Mistress.’

Ha! If proof were needed of Twilight’s trance. Although Rarity would have her marefriend’s arse displayed alongside Divine Canvas’ The Personas of Harmony, she knows that if she says anything of the sort Twilight would dart to the kitchens (both their kitchens, mind) to purge every carb in the vicinity. Have you ever seen a cake with the carbohydrates magically removed?

But right now Twilight can only bask in foggy warmth as her Mistress compliments her, moaning every time her bliss overflows into ecstasy.

For two years now they’d been having their hypnotic holidays – every Sunday without fail. And while Rarity’s tastes do not bear repeating, Twilight contented herself with obedient submission. Depending on Twilight’s mood, Rarity adjusted her mental faculties. Often she remained your everyday polymath, one who moonlighted as a maid. Other times she was reduced to a teacher’s pet with no ideas of her own. Sometimes, after a particularly stressful week, her only thoughts were Rarity’s words. Such a week was this week.

‘Such a lovely bum. So fetching, darling, that it mustn’t be kept static. Bring some dynamism! Shake it about, dear – but not too fast. I wouldn’t want my pet tiring herself.’

Like a Grandfather Clock Twilight tick-tocks her plot back and forth. ‘Like this, Mistress?’

‘Perfection! You are such a good pet.’

An open-mouth moan rolls from Twilight as the trigger sends an imagined tongue over her pussy.

‘Something’s missing,’ says Rarity. ‘Something… Ah! I want you to repeat after me, pet: “I adore my plump plot.”’

‘I adore my plump plot.’

‘Good, but again, with feeling, feel the words.’

‘I adore my plump plot,’ Twilight repeats, wrapping her tongue round each word, each syllable, as if she were reciting a poem.

‘Again,’ says Rarity. ‘Stronger, as if you’re communing with your deepest self, and she has these words for you.’

‘I adore my plump plot,’ recites Twilight, a hymn to her inner goddess.

Rarity claps her hooves, ‘Now keep repeating, and don’t stop until I tell you. Just keep you’re voicea tad below speaking level.’

Twilight mantras, ‘I adore my plump plot. I adore my plump plot. I adore my plump plot.’

Grinning, half from joy and half from mischief, Rarity tears her eyes towards the clock. Just past noon and three and three-quarter orders to finish if she’s to remain on schedule. Almost takes the joy out of having a hypnotized pet in the room.

‘I adore my plump plot.’

Almost.

‘Three, coming up… Two, aware of your body and surroundings… And one! Wide awake.’

‘Mmmm.’ Twilight rises from the bed, blinking back her receding lethargy. ‘That was wonderful. That was… was… Oh!’ Blood peaches her cheeks as memories of the past hours, of her… unflattering posture and words cringe through her mind. ‘Plump plot,’ she remembers. ‘Plump plot!’ And she’d been so good. Not a single cake, not one sweet, for weeks, months… Well, maybe one, or two, or a baker’s dozen. Pinkie brought the case over; it would have been rude to refuse. And then there was Rainbow’s birthday – who keeps their diets at parties?

Well, no more. Jumping from the bed, she darts to the door, making for the kitchen. A purge is in order.

‘Control yourself,’ says Rarity.

Twilight keeps galloping, but her hooves tread air, as the trigger envelops her in magic, her own magic, levitating her to the bed.

‘Now, now, I’ll not have my marefriend emaciating herself needlessly,’ says Rarity, ‘and depriving me of one of her loveliest assets.’ Twilight, too weak to fight her own magic, has resigned herself to its will. It lays her on the bed on her back. ‘Now, I don’t want you thrashing, so restrain yourself.’ Again, magic flows unbidden from Twilight’s horn. Four ropes hover up from under the bed. With dexterity Twilight now regrets honing, her magic ties them round each of her hooves, fastening her to the bed. She pulls at her restraints, thrashes against them, but they have only enough give for comfort. Her horn shuts off.

‘Do you think I’d move us to the bedroom for no reason, darling?’ Rarity looms between Twilight’s hind legs. ‘And I simply cannot end our session while my pet holds such sour feelings towards her body.’ She lays a hoof upon Twilight’s defenceless pussy, forcing a moan. Up and down, she starts stroking Twilight, eliciting squeaks and whimpers. How lovely that Twilight is already wet. It took a while for Twilight to experiment with bondage, but when she did was as happy as a hog in mud. Especially that time Rarity hog-tied her and threw her in mud.

The knowledge that Rarity controls her totally, even her magic, and that she, one of Equestria’s most powerful ponies, is powerless against four strands of rope, makes her quiver, and moan, and bubble in her chest. And the hoof on her pussy doesn’t hurt.

‘Does my pet like that?’

‘Yyyeeeeesss.’

‘Good pet.’ Twilight’s throaty groan stretches Rarity’s grin to her ears. She speeds up, quickening her thrall’s moans. Quicker and harder, the hoof pleasures Twilight, pushing her to the brink. Her thoughts die away, a burning fog replacing them. And she gets closer, closer, and…

Rarity slows. Twilight whimpers, like a puppy whose bowl is kicked away.

‘I don’t think you deserve an orgasm,’ says Rarity, grinning down at her.

‘P-please.’

With her free hoof Rarity ruffles Twilight’s chest fur. ‘Now, now, sweetums, I won’t torture you. But, as a self-appointed therapist, I require assurance you won’t starve yourself the moment I let you go.’ Removing her hoof from Twilight’s chest she rubs her chin. ‘Hmm… Ah! I’ve the perfect test.’ From atop her bedside desk a magic-wrapped page comes floating, blank but for a cursive quatrain in its centre. Even in arousal’s depths, sight of the poem’s words deepens the red on Twilight’s cheeks. ‘Read it, my pet, read it if you want to cum.’

Whimpering, Twilight opens her mouth:

‘My – Ah! – My arse, my bum, my tush, my plot,

So soft, so large, and round, and hot.

Be gone, my hatred, gone and past;

These globes belong in marble cast.’

‘Good pet,’ says Rarity, earning a moan. She quickens her strokes. ‘Good pet, good pet, such a good pet.’ Rarity keeps repeating the trigger, compounding tongue upon imaginary tongue on Twilight’s pussy. Embarrassment withers in her heat, in the flames of tongues and hoof, each gaining momentum, fanning her pleasure, enveloping her mind, pushing her to-

‘Good pet.’

Twilight bucks from her hips, moaning loudly despite her parched throat, writhing in the climax and aftermath for minutes – ‘Relax’ – before calming to a sleepy stillness.

‘Relax, deeply, relax, so deep. How do you feel, darling?’

‘Blissfu…’ Twilight slurs.

‘And I hope you’re not entertaining anymore silly ideas about dieting. Hmm?’

‘No…’

‘Good pet,’ says Rarity, magically undoing Twilight’s restraints. She levitates a glass of water to her marefriend’s lips, who sips it dry. Climbing atop the bed, she puts one hoof round her marefriend’s neck, and grabs her bedside novel with the other. ‘I’ll let you relax awhile… Did you like my poem?’

Twilight’s heavy eyes droop, as her tired tongue forms words the sleeping censor in her brain never sees. ‘An amateur… attempt at iambic tetrameter… repetitive, too many mono… mon…’ She snores.

‘Hmph, you do better in ten minutes,’ Rarity harumphs, and sets to reading.

‘So, I was thinking,’ says Twilight, clearing her fetish uniforms from the floor, jarring Rarity awake.

‘Whuh- Wha- Pardon.’ Twilight’s nap lasted an hour, enough time for Rarity to nod off.

‘I was saying, I’ve got a vacation coming up-’

‘Pardon,’ says Rarity. Twilight’s words had the shock of ice water. ‘D-did you, Twilight Sparkle, just say “vacation”?’

Twilight chuckles weakly. ‘Ha, well, you see, Celestia noticed I’d been working ninety-six hour weeks for two… or five years. She suggested I take a vacation. I said no. Then she suspended all my library cards, and decreed that any laboratory admitting my entry is subject to closure.’ She slots the last costume in the closet, then walks to Rarity. ‘So, I’ve got six weeks’ vacation.’

Six weeks. In all the years they’d dated they’d never had six weeks. You could actually do something with that time, genuinely unwind, not just catch your breath

‘So,’ Rarity ventures, ‘are we planning to make the most of that time? Travel anywhere?’

‘How can I “make the most” of it when it is literally illegal for me to continue my research.’ She hops into bed by Rarity’s side. ‘Besides, it’s my vacation; you’ve still got a store to run.’

‘No matter, darling, I always holiday a few weeks of the year. If I stop accepting commissions now, I’ll have a clean slate in two weeks, leaving around four for pure relaxation.’ Twilight yawns. ‘Sorry… While I know your research is important to you, you must admit it’s not healthy. Yes, you do what you love, but a mare cannot live on calling alone, she must sleep occasionally, nay, regularly. Hypnosis can only pick up so much slack.’

‘I know, I know, but tell my brain that. Research is an obsession; when I don’t do it my brain tells me I could do it. I can take afternoons, even days off for friends, but six weeks, more than a month of ignoring my brain yelling at me, telling me that I could have solved the Celestial Body Paradox if I’d just worked that day instead of rested, if I’d filled the time instead of wasted-’

‘Relax, darling.’

A wave of lethargy washes her rant away. ‘Sorry. But you see what I mean. All very well for Celestia to tell me to take a break, but I can’t take a break from myself.’

Rarity’s ears perk. ‘That’s it!’

‘Whatzit?’

‘“Take a break from yourself,” why, darling, you do that every week. What you require isn’t a gallivant round Zebrica, Prance, or even Xanadu; you need a special sort of trip, an ego trip.’

‘I don’t under-’

A white hoof blocks Twilight’s mouth. ‘Twilight Sparkle, the smartest pony in Equestria, cannot rest at night knowing the secrets of the universe still hide themselves away – But what if you weren’t Twilight Sparkle, the smartest pony in Equestria.’

Twilight pushes the hoof away. ‘I still don’t know what you’re suggesting.’

Guiding her muzzle to Twilight’s ear, Rarity whispers.

‘Oh, that,’ Twilight says as Rarity pulls back, ‘that sounds nice. Very nice.’

The station falls to the far distance, their friends waving them adieu upon it, as the train chugs towards Canterlot. A day trip, merely, and they’d board the express return as soon as they disembarked, but their friends didn’t know.

After tossing up Zebrica, the Crystal Empire, Canterlot, and countless others, they’d realised travel is all well and good for a week or so, but it tires you and loses novelty quickly. Home relaxes you. They take the train to Canterlot now only because they need privacy and an alibi, both ensured by Celestia (who, thank Celestia, asked no questions). She secured for them an entire first-class car to themselves for the whole journey, despite their only occupying an apartment. Not even the staff will disturb them. Hoof over heart, Celestia vowed to claim witness to their four week stay in Canterlot should anypony demand evidence.

Rarity pulls the curtain down, letting the chandelier softly illume their apartment. ‘It almost feels bad, deceiving them… Almost. Now, darling, you know you do it much better than me.’

Twilight chuckles and charges her horn. Purple envelops them both, cloaking them in light that grows brighter and brighter – and flashes.

‘Oh, quick, quick, fetch the mirror, I want to see how I pull off “punk”.’ Twilight levitates the mirror before her marefriend. ‘Oh, well… the spiked mane is quite… quite… And I can’t say the black fur is exactly moi… but then it’s not me at all, is it? Even the bone structure,’ she says, hooves to her face. ‘But brilliant! Astounding! You’ve practised this illusion lark while I’ve not been looking, haven’t-’

Whatever she was about to say drools from her gaping mouth, her jaw slack from sight of Twilight. Not because Twilight is sexy, for she was sexy before, but because she’s… eye-catching. She looked fit to hang from Hoity Toity’s arm as one of his weekend girls. Not a Fleur-De-Lis, of course; one of his fuller models, a model retaining some of Twilight’s most fetching assets. And her eyes! Big eyes, clear too, emitting a puppy dog innocence.

‘Nothing, it,’ Twilight says, ‘it was nothing. It’s, I mean, it’s not actually illusion magic. It’s, it’s difficult to explain – imagine an empty ocean that’s full-’

‘Take a compliment, dear.’ She pauses, scrutinising her own voice. ‘That won’t do, not just from a subterfuge perspective, but an aesthetic one as well – too dissonant.’ Her horn flares. ‘If you don’t mind.’ White wraps round her throat, dissipates, then moves to Twilight’s.

‘Go on, say something.’ Rarity’s stomach butterflies, both in pride and disgust, at the gravel in her voice. Her Canterlot lilt banished, replaced by the implicit go-buck-yourself of a punk slur.

‘That was great! I didn’t know you could...’ Twilight pauses at her heightened pitch, and the inherent child-like fawning in her tone. ‘Wow.’

‘I knew ya’d love it, babe.’ Punks speak like that, right? ‘Now let’s smear the last coat of paint of this ‘ouse.’ She magically dangles a sparkling crystal before Twilight’s eyes. ‘Look at the shiny.’

‘Rarity.’

‘Shut it, luv, and look at the shiny.’

‘Rarity!’

Rarity drops the crystal. ‘Is something wrong, darling?

‘Please don’t treat me like an idiot.’

‘But you want to be an idiot.’

‘But I’m not right now!’

Rarity takes Twilight by the shoulder and leads her to bed. ‘As you wish, darling. Hop up.’ They both hop onto the bed, laying with their hooves beneath them, but Rarity with one hoof over Twilight’s shoulder. ‘I won’t talk down to you. Just relax and snuggle up to me. Let your marefriend take you deep into sleep. Now, breathe in… and out.’

Twilight’s eyes already droop. She is so accustomed to sliding into trance, and so trusting of her marefriend, that Rarity could count from ten to one in a crowded market and still reduce Twilight to a docile puddle.

‘Breathe in… and out… that’s it.’ Twilight snuggles herself closer to Rarity, sighing as if she’d been tucked into bed. ‘Very good. You feel so warm next to me, so sleepy, so safe. Nothing can go wrong if you give in to this feeling. Your body is so heavy, thoughts so slow, because you don’t need to move, or think, because you’re so relaxed. You deserve to sleep, to bask in warmth. Now, in a second, I want you to count down from one hundred. Each number you speak will make you twice as warm, twice as sleepy, and twice as safe. You can stop counting at any time, you can stop counting and just sleep. Start.’

Twilight’s mouth opens slowly to slur out, ‘One… hundred… Ninety-nine… ninety… eight… ninety… nighty…’ Her eyes drift shut.

Last time she couldn’t even say one hundred. ‘Good girl. Doesn’t this feel nice, this utter tranquillity. You are totally safe, because you can make no mistakes, because you can only do as I say, can only think what I tell you to think. Isn’t this paradise? Say, “Yes, Mistress.”’

‘Yes… Mistress.’

‘That felt so good, because you did as I commanded. You’re so obedient, so submissive. You’d do anything I told you to do, because you know nothing can go wrong when you obey me. Your marefriend will always keep you safe. Good girl. Open your eyes, Twilight, but stay deeply asleep.’

Her eyelids lift to a half-way open droop.

‘What’s this, Twilight?’

Glazed eyes clear a little, focussing on the object before them. ‘A… jar.’

‘Very good. But this isn’t just any jar, darling. No, this jar holds so many lovely things.’ She shakes the jar, twirling the water within into a gentle tundra. Nuzzling her muzzle closer to Twilight’s ear she continues, ‘It holds giggles, smiles and, oh, I don’t know, a few happy moans, you know, the kind you make when you’re all alone, with nothing to bother you, and your idly playing with your pussy.’ Twilight shivers. ‘That’s it. You want what’s in this jar. You want the giggles, smiles and happy moans, don’t you?’ Twilight groans. ‘Say, “Yes, Mistress.”’

‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘Of course you do. So I’m going to pour all these lovely things into your head. You’d like that.’ Twilight moans. ‘What’s this? Oh, no! Your head’s full, full of facts, discipline, and smarts. There’s no room for these lovely things. And how you want to be giggly and smiley and horny. You want that so much. Say you want that, Twilight.’

‘I want… to be giggly… and smiley… and horny.’ Her breathing had quickened. Even through the glass of her marefriend’s eyes Rarity could see thwarted desire. She truly did want to be all those things.

‘Aha! I’ve had an idea. I’ll take all the facts, discipline and smarts out of your head, put them somewhere safe, somewhere you don’t need to worry about, so there’ll be room for giggles, smiles and happy moans. That’s a good idea, isn’t it? Say, “Yes, Mistress.’”

‘Yes, Mistress.’

‘Now, I’m going to pour this jar’s lovely things into your head, and as they go into your head the facts, discipline and smarts will just flow out, flow down your face like water, ultimately going somewhere safe, somewhere you don’t need to worry about because I will take care of it. Nod if you understand.’ She nods. ‘Good. Now, before I pour, I need to warn that your head will feel quite different. Right now, you’re full of intelligent thoughts, heavy thoughts, thoughts that don’t move around much because they’re so disciplined. But these lovely things, why, they’re the lightest things in the world. They’ve no discipline, they just bubble anywhere. It’s like having a head full of air. You want that. Say it, say, “I want to be an airhead.”’

‘I want to be an airhead.’

‘Very good.’ She unscrews the jar, raises it above Twilight’s head, and begins tipping. ‘I’m starting.’ The slender stream patters on the centre of Twilight’s head, dampening her mane. ‘Doesn’t that feel nice? Don’t those giggles feel cool?’ Twilight giggles as water trickles down her forehead. ‘Don’t those smiles feel so good in your head?’ Water trails round her eyes, down her nose, dripping past or into her open mouth smile. ‘And isn’t somepony feeling horny?’ The last drops drip onto her head as she shudders a moan.

Rarity sets the jar aside. ‘On the count of three you’re going to wake up, feeling relaxed, refreshed, and oh, so airheaded.

‘One… Coming up, your body stirring.

‘Two… aware of your surroundings, almost there.

‘Three! Wide awake. How are you?’

Still snuggled up to Rarity, Twilight stretches her limbs straight, her face the picture of feline ecstasy. ‘I feel super-duper.’ She giggles as she relaxes her body.

‘I want to ask you a silly question: What is the third law of Starswirlian magic conservation?’

‘Easy-peasy! That’s… It’s…’ Twilight furrows her brow, scratches her chin, and lets her mouth gape a little. ‘I don’t know. I should know… I’m Twilight Sparkle. I’m like a doctor or something.’

Rarity pats Twilight’s damp head. ‘Well, that’s easily cleared up. You see, you’re not Twilight Sparkle.’

‘I’m… not?’ That’s not right… But Rarity, like, sounded so sure… Maybe…

‘Oh, don’t frown. Let’s turn that frown upside down.’ Rarity shifts herself from Twilight’s side to atop her back. She places her hooves on Twilight’s ribs, and rubs them up and down, tickling her mercilessly. Laughing like a foal, any decorum the pony retained shed under the force of Rarity’s rib tickles and neck raspberries.

It stops. ‘Look at the shiny.’ Twilight’s teary eyes no sooner open than snap to the prettiest crystal she’d ever seen, dangling in from a chain in Rarity’s magic. ‘You like the shiny, don’t you? Shiny things are so pretty. So pretty that silly, simple-minded girls like you can just get lost in them, can just let your pesky thoughts sit to the side.’ Looking at Twilight’s face Rarity can barely contain her d’awws. The crystal entrances Twilight, but not a sleepy trance. She gawks at it like a little filly at a lollipop, all open-mouthed and wide-eyed. ‘No, you’re not Twilight Sparkle.’ A mirror hovers just behind the crystal. ‘That’s you, isn’t it? Describe it.’

‘White… earth pony… green eyes… blue mane.’

‘And does that sound like the lavender, Alicorn Princess of Equestria called Twilight Sparkle?’

‘No?’

‘No, it doesn’t. And isn’t Twilight Sparkle the smartest pony in Equestria? How could a silly filly like you be her? No, your name is Bubble Brain.’

‘Bubble… Brain…’

‘And who am I?’

‘Rarity…’

Rarity tuts, before rising from atop Twilight’s back and taking the mirrors place behind the crystal. ‘Do I look like Rarity?’ Twilight shakes her head. ‘And besides, Rarity is Twilight Sparkle’s marefriend, and you’re not Twilight Sparkle. I’m Sex Pistol, your marefriend.’

‘My marefriend… Sex Pistol.’

‘And we love each other very much. And we both know your limitations. We both know you’re a very silly filly… stupid, I think is the word. The world can be a complicated and confusing place for stupid girls. That’s why you’re lucky to have a smart and caring marefriend like me. So whenever your little head gets confused, you come to your loving marefriend Sex Pistol. Does that sound good?’

‘Yeah…’

Good. Finally, that’s sorted. Early on they’d determined they’d need cover identities for obvious reasons. They then realised Twilight would require a bit more than cover, for in her desired state she likely couldn’t keep up a front; she’d need an entire interior redesign.

An entire interior redesign…

‘Bubble, we both know your biggest turn on,’ Rarity says. ‘You love when ponies praise and fondle your bum.’