Author's Note

All characters depicted in this story are A) entirely fictional, and B) All eighteen years of age or older.

Also, for those who care, this story's in a separate, EG-ish continuity from my other smutty stories.

With that disclaimer out of the way, enjoy!

Reclining Female Nude

“Applejack, could I ask you a question?” Rarity said. She spoke just loud enough to be heard over Canterlot High's bustling cafeteria commotion. It was loud by default, but the excitement of a Friday (and the freedom that was only a few hours away) made it even bigger.

“Reckon you already have.” Applejack took an apple fritter out of her battered metal lunchbox and munched away.

“Yes, well. You know what I meant.”

“Guess I do.” Applejack smiled, and then pushed her lunchbox across the cafeteria table. “Take anythin' ya like. I got extras, n' I figure it'll be more fillin' than that fru fru Chinese burrito ya got there.”

“These are spring rolls, not burritos.” Rarity said, and protectively slid an arm around her artfully arranged bento box. “And, I'll have you know, they're Thai, not Chinese. Honestly, Applejack, one of these days I'm going to teach you that there's more to cuisine than butter-soaked apple pastries.”

“Butter n' apples taste good, though.” Applejack popped the last of her fritter into her mouth and gave Rarity a crumb-encrusted grin.

“Perhaps.” Rarity eyed the tempting, golden-flaked contents of Applejack's lunchbox, and then wrenched her eyes away. “But, that's not what I wanted to ask you about.”

“Your loss,” said Applejack.

“In any case … “ Rarity looked over her shoulder, making sure nobody else was close enough to listen. The raucous din of Canterlot High's Friday lunch period worked wonders as impromptu sound-proofing. Rarity leaned closer. “Applejack, I would ask a favor of you.”

“Anythin', Rarity.”

“Ah, good. As I've found I'm in need of a model--”

“Anythin' but that.” Applejack recoiled in barely controlled terror.

“But--” Rarity looked up at her friend with wide, pleading eyes. The fact she'd practiced such a look in the mirror made it no less genuine, and far more effective.

“Uh uh. No way I'm gettin' up on stage somewhere n' paradin' up n' down like a prize heifer for a buncha fancy fashion folk. Nope. Ain't doin' it. End of discussion.”

“Ah!” Rarity smiled. “Not that kind of model, darling. Please, calm down. I wouldn't think to subject you to the rigors of such scrutiny. Rather, I've realized that my figure drawing could use a little practice. And, well, the best way to practice is by drawing figures, you know? You won't have to worry about anyone seeing you-- you and I will be the only ones present. No cameras, no spotlights, just you and I, and a sketchpad.”

“That's it?”

“That's it. In fact, my little sister's going to a choir retreat, and my parents will be off on some work-related endeavor, which means that you and I will be the only ones in the whole house.”

“Go figure.” Applejack mused. “But … why me?”

“I couldn't think of anyone else, honestly. Pinkie and Rainbow are too … fidgety. Fluttershy would do it, but I'm afraid she'd melt under all the attention. And I haven't known Sunset or Twilight nearly as long, so … well, that leaves you. You're perfect.” Rarity smiled, and reached over to pat the back of Applejack's hand. “It'll be fun. I promise! You'll do it, won't you? For me?”

“So long as you don't try to truss me up in some sorta ridiculous getup in the name of fashion, I guess it couldn't hurt.”

“I wouldn't think anything of the sort!” Rarity said. “Just come by my house after school, and we'll get underway. All you'll have to do is sit still for a little while, that's all. It'll be easy!”

The next few hours came and went. As soon as the final bell rang, a flood of students burst through Canterlot High's doors like the floodwaters of a cracked dam. Applejack tromped along with the flow of students, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder.

“Hey Applejack!” Pinkie Pie materialized out of the crowd like a salmon leaping out of a stream. Her hair and skirts bobbled with each bounce as she veritably skipped along. “It's Friday!”

“Sure is.”

“Whatcha doin'?”

“I dunno. Rarity's talked me into some artsy fartsy thingie. She says it'll be fun, but … “

“Art can be fun! Like if you do one of those things where you just throw paint at the wall and you're all like 'blaaaaargh!' and it's about emotion or something! Or maybe just like if there are dogs playing poker. You're good at poker, aren't you, Applejack? You've got a cowboy hat!”

“Don't think there's gonna be any dogs. Or poker.”

“Aw!”

“What about you? You got anythin' lined up?”

“Not really!” Pinkie Pie said. “But that's okay! Sometimes I just like to roam around and see what fun stuff is happening without really making a plan or anything! It's great! Like, one time, I went to the park, and it turned out there was a big dance competition there, and that's when I learned how to tango!”

“Welp, whatever floats your boat. But iffin' you don't get too distracted tango-in', Rarity n' I will be over at her house if you wanna drop by.”

“Ooooh, sounds fun! I'll keep that in mind!” The two girls stopped at the sidewalk. “Oh! And don't forget! Everybody going out for milkshakes for lunch tomorrow!”

“Wouldn't dream of missin' it, Pinkie.”

“Great!” Pinkie Pie veered off in a random direction. “Seeya later!” She waved cheerily, and then skipped off, humming some nameless tune aloud.

Rarity, lacking Applejack's muscle or Pinkie's occasional immunity to the laws of physics, took a little longer to make her way through the crowds of teenagers, and out to the curb. “Ah, there you are!” Rarity said, “I was almost afraid you'd backed out at the last moment.”

“You know me, Rarity. I'm more stubborn than that.”

“Of course you are. Now, shall we?” And the two set off to walk the mile or so towards Rarity's house.

Rarity's basement studio was a study in controlled yet fashionable chaos. A sleek sewing machine took up most of one corner, while various mannequins, clothes racks, bolts of fabric, and assorted clothing projects in all states of assembly were scattered about. Short windows along the edges of the basement ceiling let in a little bit of sunlight, while several more tastefully arranged lamps kept the whole studio looking bright and cheery and distinctly un-basement-ish.

“Right then!” Rarity said, and began to bustle about. She took a few rolls of fabric off of an antique (though no less comfortable looking) couch. “It'll just take me a few moments to get a place cleared out for you to pose. I don't want to waste any time, so do be a dear and get undressed while I'm setting up. You can leave your clothes on that chair, there.”

“What.” Applejack said.

“Oh! Well, if you're afraid your clothes are going to get too wrinkled, you can hang them up on that rack by the sewing machine.”

“Uh.” Applejack eyed the clothes rack with no small degree of suspicion. “Thought you said you weren't gonna truss me up in anythin'.”

“And I won't!”

“So … you just want me to pick somethin' out to wear?”

“I suppose just the hat could be a somewhat … saucy look, though I'd prefer to at least get in a few sketches without it.”

“Just the hat?” Applejack's cheeks turned a bright, bright red as the realization struck her. “You want to draw me naked?”

“Well, yes?” Rarity said. “That's … sort of the point of live drawing, after all.”

“Hold up, that don't make no sense.” Applejack pointed an accusatory finger at Rarity. “You're a fashion designer.”

“Of course.” Rarity said.

“Then it don't make no sense if you draw me without clothes!”

“Of course it does!” Rarity shot back, defensive. “The human body is the framework on which all of my work-- on which all fashion is based. It's imperative that I develop an eye for basic proportion and anatomy, or else I shall have a glaring weakness in my skillset, and then I shall never become a true haute couture pioneer, and then I shall have to spend the rest of my days slaving away stitching sweatpants in a factory somewhere! Is that what you want, Applejack?”

“Ain't nobody gonna wind up in a factory 'cause they didn't see my butt.” Applejack grumbled.

“And nobody's made it to the highest echelons of fashion without mastering life drawing.”

“Sorry Rarity, but this just ain't right.”

“What ain't--” Rarity reeled herself in, cursing herself for her lapse in grammar. “What isn't right about it? For one, we're both eighteen, so we're of age. Two, this is a matter of art, and nothing untoward and scandalous. And three … I promise, even if you're embarrassed, it'll be fine. The human body is nothing to be ashamed of, much less one as … “ Rarity raked her eyes down Applejack's tall, lean body. “Statuesque as yours. Not to mention I shall respect your privacy in the utmost-- you and I will be the only ones who see these drawings.”

Applejack crossed her arms, and glared. “You sure put a lot of thought into this just to see me without any clothes on.”

“Applejack!” Rarity gasped. “I am insulted that you would think I would do something so basely scandalous. Especially since I've already seen you au naturale.”

“Hold up.” Applejack blurted. “When?”

“Why, in passing, in the locker room after gym class. Multiple times.”

“So you're sayin' you've been pervin' on me for awhile now?”

“That is not what I'm saying!” Rarity huffed. “You are impossible, Applejack. But! Just to prove that there's nothing wrong with tasteful nudity, and to show you that I haven't contrived this all as some sort of lecherous plot to ravish you, I shall get undressed first!” Rarity tossed the rolls of fabric to the side, and started working her blouse open. Each undone button revealed an ever-deepening 'v' of delicate white skin.

“Whoa now!” Applejack sputtered-- she knew she should have turned her eyes away, but she somehow couldn't. “Let's not get hasty here.”

“Too late!” Rarity whipped off her blouse, and her slim skirt soon followed, leaving her in a lacy blue bra and panty set. “It's my house, and I'll dress-- or undress, as I like! It's not my fault you're too scared to be comfortable in your own skin!”

“Scared?” Applejack said. “I ain't scared a nothin'!”

“Oh yeah?” Rarity undid her bra, allowing her perky, pink-capped breasts to bounce free. “Prove it!”

“I will!” Applejack said, and immediately started wrenching at the buttons to her red flannel shirt.

“Fine!” Rarity bent over, peeling her french-cut underwear down over her long, smooth legs.

“Fine!” Applejack undid her jeans, and then flopped down on the couch. She kicked her legs gracelessly, pushing off first her cowboy boots, and then the battered denim.

“Ha!” Rarity stood up, and kicked her panties away from her with a flick of her ankle. “I'm nude first. I win.”

“Didn't know it was a race—” Applejack looked at Rarity. Her eyes went wide, and her cheeks went red as she took in the sight of her friend standing proudly, triumphantly nude. Applejack bit the inside of her mouth as she noticed the neatly trimmed strip of purple hair leading down to--

She forced herself to look past it, down Rarity's long legs, to her feet.

“Ha!” Applejack said, and kicked off her jeans and boots in one last buck of her toned legs. “Haven't won yet! You still got your shoes n' socks on!”

“What?” Rarity sputtered. “That doesn't-- fine!” She flopped down in a handy chair, and worked at the buckles of her modest flats. By the time she'd divested herself of her shoes and stockings, Applejack had in turn shed the rest of her own clothing.

“There!” they said in unison, glaring at each other. A tie.

It took a moment for the competitive spirit to die down for both girls to realize the awkwardness of the situation.

“Uh.” Applejack said. She briefly reached up to cover her chest, but thought better of it. “Now what?”

“Well then.” Rarity ignored the rising heat in her cheeks. “Now that that's settled, just get comfortable on the couch, and I'll do a few sketches. All you've got to do is sit there.”

“Uh. Kay.” Applejack lowered herself back onto the couch. She sat up straight, and tilted her chin up a little. “Like this?”

“Hm? No, no, Applejack. Just get … comfortable.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“Hmf.” Rarity crossed her studio, grabbing a sketchpad and a couple of pens. “Don't you start complaining again.” She sat down, and peered around the corner of her pad at Applejack. “And relax. Just … lean back a little. Pretend you're at home.”

“If I were at home, I'd be wearing pants.”

“Yes, well. Pretend you're not at home, then.”

“This is your house.”

“Then that should make it easy.” Rarity said.

“This is weird.” Applejack breathed in deeply.

Rarity noted the deep breath did quite interesting things to Applejack's chest. From an entirely aesthetic standpoint. Really. She fixed her eyes on the blank page of the sketchbook. “This is art, darling. You'll be fine. I'll be fine. We'll both be fine.” Rarity nodded, and then pressed her bare legs together a little tighter. She touched her pen to the pad, and got to work.

The familiar feel of a pen in her hand and the familiar smell of fresh ink did wonders for Rarity. No sooner had she drawn the first, softly curving line, her artistic instincts took over. She concentrated on the job at hand, only occasionally peering over to get another look at Applejack as the other girl sat up as straight as an illustration from an etiquette manual (albeit with far less clothing).

Applejack, Rarity had to admit, was gorgeous. She had known this before, of course, noting her friend's frankly breathtaking beauty even when Applejack herself hadn't. But, as Rarity worked on her sketch, she came to appreciate each and every line of Applejack's work-sculpted body. The long legs. The strong arms. The … generous bust that, were Rarity a lesser woman, would have made her more than a little jealous. And yet, despite Applejack's near-perfection, Rarity found herself appreciating the imperfections even more. The freckles across Applejack's chin and shoulders. The cracked, short fingernails. Even the clearly contrasted line, mid-way up Applejack's bicep, between her deeply suntanned hands and forearms, and the far lighter skin of her upper arms and torso.

Rarity giggled a little.

“Aw hell, whatcha laughing at now?” Applejack grumbled, and covered herself up with her hands as best she could.

“Oh! Sorry.” Rarity said, and looked up from her drawing. “It's just … well, you've got a farmer's tan.”

“I am a farmer.” Applejack grumbled.

“True! True! But … honestly, Applejack, you've got such a lovely complexion, and the sun only brings it out … why, if you were to get that skin tone all over, it'd be quite a breathtaking effect, you know.”

“Seriously? Ain't happy 'nuff you've got me bare-assed in your basement, n' now y'all want me to lay around like this so I'll get a better tan?”

Rarity gripped her pen tighter as the sudden vision of Applejack languidly stretched out on a beach towel came to mind. Unbroken, perfectly golden skin, with just a hint of oil giving Applejack's body a tempting shine, accentuating the firm lines of muscle beneath.

Rarity hid her blush behind her notepad. “Not necessarily.” She said, quite quickly. “Why, any bikini or swimsuit would do. Or even a tank top and some shorts, honestly. With just a little effort, the effect would be stunning.”

“Says the girl paler than the paper she's drawin' on.”

“There's a difference there, Applejack.” Rarity said. “I have a far, far more delicate complexion than you do. Why, if I spent too much time on the beach, I would be burned to a crisp if I didn't apply the strongest sunscreen I could find.”

“N' I bet getting' somebody to rub it down your back's just a bonus?”

Another vision. Strong, calloused hands running down her back.

Rarity grit her teeth, and just barely prevented herself from breaking her pen in her grip.

“That, I suppose, would depend on the somebody.” She said, prim.

“You done doodlin' yet? I'm startin' to cramp up here.”

Rarity looked down at the sketch. It was incomplete, as a full drawing went, but the basic outline was there. “Hm? Oh, yes. It's a good start.” Rarity turned her pad around to show Applejack her handiwork. “Like I said, this is just practice.”

Applejack quirked one brow, and then leaned forward for a better look. “Huh.” She said. “Hate to say it, Rarity, but that don't look nothin' like me?”

“What?” Rarity sputtered, and spun the drawing around so she could scrutinize it properly. “What did I get wrong?”

“It's all … artsy.”

“Artsy?”

“Ya made me look too pretty.”

“What?” Rarity said, shocked.

“It's true! I'm just a plain ol' farmgal, n' that picture there makes me look like I'm somethin' outta a magazine. Just, uh, one of the classy ones. With articles.”

“I … I don't even know where to begin listing how wrong you are.” Rarity furrowed her brow. “For one, Applejack, this is just a practice sketch. It's a pale, pale reflection of your true beauty. The only reason it's 'too pretty,' is because you honestly don't know just how gloriously beautiful your body is. Honestly, Applejack, have you never looked in a mirror before?”

“You're just sayin' that.” Applejack's green eyes flicked over Rarity's equally bared body, and then looked away. “Ain't like I look like you or anything.”

“Why, Applejack--” Rarity put a hand to her chest, feeling her pulse go a little faster. “Are you implying that I am your standard of beauty?”

“Never said that much. Just that ya look nice, is all.”

“You're right, I do look … nice.” Rarity flicked her hair over her bare shoulder. “But to be honest, you and I simply have different kinds of beauty. You're like … you're like a wilderness landscape.”

Applejack smiled a little, and cupped her hands over her breasts. “You make a 'rolling hills' joke, I'm gonna have to hit you.”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Please, Applejack. Nothing so vulgar. There's just a hint of … well, wildness about you. Power. It comes to you naturally. Whereas I am more akin to the garden at some appropriately regal palace. Versailles, perhaps. Elegant. Refined. But in a more … regimented way, if that makes any sense?”

“I'm gonna be good and not make any jokes 'bout trimming the hedges.” Applejack teased.

“I swear, Applejack, you're impossible.”

“It's your fault! This whole thing was your idea.”

“I'm not the one making base innuendo.”

“Yeah, well, you can't keep your eyes off my innuendo.”

“That doesn't make any sense!”

“You're blushing anyway.”

“That-- that is completely beside the point.” Rarity said, even if she allowed a little giggle to escape her lips. At least Applejack had moved from 'awkwardly nude' to 'making terrible jokes about it.' “Now.” She turned the page of her sketchbook. “Do be a dear and try a more … casual pose, will you? I'd like to get more than one sketch in.”

“Uh, sure.” Applejack said. “How do you want me?”

Rarity bit back a reply that would have been as scandalous as it was witty. “Just … lay back a bit? Stretch out.” Applejack eased herself back into a prone position, shifting about a little to get comfortable. “Perfect. Hold that pose.” The flush in Rarity's cheeks faded away as she got back to work.

She drew Applejack over and over. Sitting. Standing. Prone. From one angle, then another. In dim light, and in bright. With each brief sketch, she gained a better understanding of the human body … or at least just Applejack's. She applied a few finishing touches on her last drawing, and then tapped her pen against the side of her sketchbook. She was onto something, but … what?

“Applejack.” Rarity stood up, setting her artistic supplies to the side. “I'd like to do one more, if you don't mind.”

“Sure thing.” Applejack said with a relaxed grin. “Y'know, this whole thing ain't so bad, now that I'm used to it. 's at least easier than all those times ya wanted to squeeze me into somethin' fancy.”

“Hmf. I wouldn't squeeze you into anything you wouldn't look positively stunning in.” Rarity huffed. “Although, now that I think of it … “ Rarity glanced around, and then bent over to scoop up Applejack's discarded boots, along with her hat. (The fact that said gesture presented Rarity's own bare rump to Applejack's gaze was, again, entirely coincidental). “Here, put these on.” She said, and handed them over.

“You want me to get dressed?”

“Not … entirely, no.” Rarity said, and deposited Applejack's hat on her head, tilting it at just the right angle. “I, ah … I thought we'd try something different. Accessorize. Something akin to a vintage pin-up, you know?” Rarity held her fingers up, framing Applejack as the blonde girl pulled her boots on.

“Like somethin' outta a girly magazine, then.” Applejack said with a wry grin.

“But a classy one.” Rarity shot back. “With articles.”

Applejack got her boots on, and then shifted on the couch. She arced her back a little, and touched the back of her neck with one hand, cocking the elbow out a little. “Like this?”

From a personal standpoint, Rarity rapidly realized that she'd be content to look at Applejack in just about any pose in that state of undress. But from an artistic one, it wasn't quite complete. “Ah.” She said, and stepped forward. “Not quite.” She took a half step forward, and her arms hovered above Applejack's long, shapely leg. “May I?” she asked. “It'll be easier to position you this way.”

“Uh. Sure?” Applejack looked away from Rarity, even as her cheeks began to tint red again. “Whatever you want.”

Rarity bit her lower lip, and forced herself to get back to the matter at hand. Gently, she ran her hands over Applejack's legs, savoring the feel of warm, firm muscle beneath her hands. She stretched Applejack's legs out and rested her booted feet on the arm of the couch. To put such footwear on such furniture was entirely improper … which, Rarity realized, was partly why she was doing it. “Now, lay back … “ Rarity turned, and gently pushed against Applejack's shoulder, guiding her downwards to her back.

Applejack just closed her eyes, allowing herself to be put into position, almost like a life size doll of some kind. “This … this is kinda nice.” Applejack murmured, though whether to herself or to Rarity was a question of debate.

Rarity bit harder at her lower lip. She knew, once she had a pen in her hand, whatever sense of … impropriety that hung in the air would melt away again. But with her pen and pad on the other side of the studio, they might as well have been a thousand miles away. Whereas Applejack-- gorgeous, naked, malleable Applejack, was … right here. So close, Rarity allowed her gaze to linger on the little details that she'd glossed over in her rough sketches: freckles along the top of Applejack's chest, the brown peaks of her nipples, firm and tight in the cool basement air, and even the unkempt dusting of blonde hair between the farmgirl's legs.

Rarity braced herself, and let out a little sigh. Perhaps she'd done enough drawing already. Instead, she gripped the back of the couch, lowering her face down towards Applejack's--

“Hey guys!”

--and slammed her forehead into Applejack's as the farmgirl suddenly sat up.

Wincing, Rarity and Applejack turned in shocked horror at their pink-haired, physics-immune friend, rocking cheerily back and forth on her be-sneakered feet. Pinkie Pie's skirts and hair swished in tune as she peered curiously at her nude, blushing friends.

“Whatcha doin'?”