Rough Draft (The Original I'd Been Working On)
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Rough Draft (The Original I'd Been Working On)
Anthony whistled to his lonesome as he flipped the store's open sign to closed. He spun the set of keys on his fingers as he watched the city of Canterlot light up the early evening night.
God, was the city perfect. Mountain air. Skies bright. Shame his shift couldn't be as perfect.
Collar Comfort, the stout and sour-tongue mare, aka his boss, finally thought he was ready to work the big guns. He got the great honor to lock up the place, stuck here past his afternoon shift since the other three employees took off to the castle for a royal fitting. And those prissy, high-maintenance unicorns never came back. Collar only showed up to chuck him the keys and a rambling list of duties that, as the scroll rolled off the counter and made a puddle of paper, would take him all night to complete.
Not to mention, he couldn't read her hand-writing. It was all chicken scratch to him.
But retail was retail no matter the alternate dimension.
Anthony locked the front door, turned off the ceiling fans and swept, whistling even louder. The tinted windows reflected the image that he hardly saw outside his bathroom mirror. According to pony standards, he was short, fur-less where it counted, and had a godly shade of yellow hair on his head. To his own standards, he was a fine specimen of manly physic. Six-foot five and capable of holding his own in a fight.
After finishing the show floor, the human moved to the hallway. He dimmed the lights as he went, turning the erotic red hue from the light bulbs into a warm, cozy glow.
Collar's gimmick amongst all the specialty clothing shops in Canterlot was enchanted lingerie. That meant magical crotch-less panties, temperature controlled g-strings, shape-shifting saddles and lots of other things he didn't want to think about.
He glanced around. Eyes roaming the storefront for anything that needed to be fixed or adjusted before he moved on. Sample clothing hung on the walls. Racks of cheaper goods placed near the door to catch any window shopper off guard. Plastic models were posed for maximum appeal. Their felt tails moved to the side. Sculpted thighs presenting the color-changing pair a mare just had to buy on the spot.
They were mostly a hit with the Canterlot middle class, ponies who wanted clothing that could do more than just be simply worn. Honesty, Anthony couldn't get how putting on clothing could make a pony look sexy but when in Rome...
With the main part of the store secured, Anthony moved to the back. He checked the first dressing room, a narrow space with three walls covered in mirrors. Then the second, quickly annoyed at the sight of panties and striped socks left in neatly in a massive pile. They didn't even have that many customers today to account for all this fabric. Anthony racked his brain, confused why he wouldn't have noticed some mare or stallion taking this many store goods.
His eyes shifted to the perfectly fine hangers that were right there on the hook. And couldn't they have decency to rehang what they took? Anthony picked up the undergarments, their hangers and placed them into a box to be sorted later.
The human went to the third and opened the door.
A leggy, lanky unicorn mare's hindquarters greeted him. The pair of tight, lacy panties leaving red marks on her wide snow-white cheeks. Anthony averted his eyes before mentally slapping himself.
He saw pony asses everyday. There wasn't anything special about seeing them clothed.
That shape, that body... Wasn't she a regular? He hadn't gotten her name but he remembered seeing her browse through their selections. Only buying clothing when she gotten startled from behind.
The pink haired mare threw her head and sighed, “I suppose I couldn't hope that I would be left alone forever.” She cracked a grin, her face reflected in the mirrors. “It's embarrassing to be held captive by a pair of undergarments. My sister always told me I acted like I was too good to ask for help. And she is right.”
At her words, Anthony noticed the red string wrapped around the hook in the center of wall in front of her. He followed the string to where it began, the hem of her panty line, where it threatened to unravel the elegant stitching of possibly four-hundred bits worth of silk panties.
“You should have said something earlier.” He said, curious as to why there was the string was red in the first place. “All you need is a pair of scissors and I'm sure we can work out a payment plan?” The panties themselves were pink and purple, no red inseam to be found. “That's if I even tell anyone about this. I'm sure you must be tired of standing here.”
“I am.” The mare shifted on her hooves but not a sound came from them brushing against the tile. Anthony frowned, seeing that her shadow was a few inches from where it should be. Was it a trick of the light? “Before you aid me, can you swear an oath? Absolutely out-dated but it would bring comfort to my heart.”
“What do you mean?” She sounded different than he would've expected, regal and elegant. He glanced over her, his eyes avoiding her rear and noticed the lack of a cutie mark. But he definitely remembered her having one. A red sun rising out of two clouds.
“It's very simple. All you have to do is repeat after me, In The Name of Celestia, I pledge my faith and fidelity to her honor and grace.”
“That's it?” Anthony leaned against the doorway. “If it's just that easy to say, why do I have to say it at all?”
“To make me feel better about my situation.” The mare stated. “Will you not do me this favor? It takes less than a minute to say and once I'm freed, I will reward you handsomely.”
Anthony shrugged. Saying a few words wouldn't hurt. “In the name of Celestia, I pledge my faith and fidelity to her honor and grace.” The moment the oath came out his mouth, a golden glow appeared over his body before vanishing. “What was that?”
“Well done. You have been accepted into the service of a princess.” The mare's horn glowed and her form rippled, growing into
Refined Version (But Really A New Spin)
Josh was a man completely apathetic towards the rear-ends that belonged to the ponies that strolled into his place of work. The place being a lingerie store and his job, on regular occasion, measuring equine asses. He held the counter for the most part, taking orders and encouraging window-shoppers to buy now or leave early.
Canterlot wasn't a cheap place to live and certainly not a cheaper place to shop.
But he got payed on comish for every mare or stallion he got to make a custom order. And the best way to get that, he had to get a little hands-on.
It didn't matter who the pony was.
The moment he settled his hands on their hindquarters, they were sold. Their shameless hips pushing back into his front, tails trying to wrap around his waist as he slid the cool and cold measuring tape between trembling thighs.
There were some benefits in not having claws at the end of his fingers, it seemed.
Ponies tended to fall into a sort of flight or fight state around him, wanting to either buck their way free or mount him like a box at the flip of the coin. Him being a new and exciting addition to the talking species gene pool. It might only be because he was taller than most of them, a well-deserved two heads unless a pony felt like rearing up on their back legs but even then, Josh could always stand on his toes to prove a point.
Josh changed up his method depending on how much his fellow employees gossiped about who was coming. Tourists got a hovering hand grazing gently above their skin as he maneuvered the chilly tape around their legs. Richer out-of-towners? A bit of thumb-magic, pressing into their quivering hips as he steadied his customer. Nobles were his favorite. A little pat on their cutie mark and they were buying orders that would keep the shop (and his rent money) in the black for months.
Collar Comfort, his boss, said the whole process of learning one's 'body numbers' were akin to making a stitching a fleeting seam between you and them. One that lasts long enough for them to part with the contents of their wallet and nothing more. That was, in her own special way, calling him a hooker. Well, she didn't exactly hesitate after hiring him to not pick some more 'exotic' species to work her store. Minotaurs and Spinx weren't exactly common in their nation but she managed to stock her employee roster with them.
If he's a hooker, she's his pimp.
But this, the invitation to the royal palace, and this, the fucking clusterfuck that would have them banished to the moon, was far, far out of his pay-grade.
“I'm out.” Josh blurted, breathless and pale at the sight of the massive and horribly bloated cocoon of golden silk taking up half of Princess Celestia's private dress rooms. That's right. Rooms.
Emerald green threads slithered around the gaping slit of an entrance, stripping the few ponies wearing clothing bare and feeding the stolen fabric to it, the cocoon. Josh was lucky to still be wearing his black work slacks and striped collared shirt. Several ponies were trapped into its folds, strung up like decorations as the living string enbounded them to its shell. Josh winced, glancing away as the cocoon played with their bodies and teased the guards attempting to take back the room.
They couldn't incinerate the cocoon with so many hostages that the thing had its disposal. Not to mention, the most important guest that was still inside.
“Collar, I'm taking my vacation days early.” The short and stout mare didn't respond, blankly blinking as the hall was filled with screams. “Collar, let's just go. There's nothing we can do and there's no proof that we were responsible. The door's right there.”