For a Change

by theycallmejub

Rating: mature
Tags: Romance, Slice of Life
Length: 6824

In a bid to get rid of her bothersome, shape-shifting boyfriend, Rarity challenges the little pest... to a fight?

You know those really horrible, clingy ex-boyfriends you can never seem to shake no matter what?

The ones who keep texting your phone months after the break up.

Or the ones who never ditch the keys to your apartment, even after you change the locks.

Or, you know, the ones who won't stop shapeshifting into your five closest friends and seducing you into participating in elaborate sexual roleplays.

Yeah, Rarity has one of those ex-boyfriends. Also, she's become a sexy masked luchador… or something.

(A commission by yours truly, with special thanks to partypie for helping out with the proofing.)

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2016-08-31 00:11:25 UTC

Chapter 1

Rarity had always despised the feel of perspiration on her hide. She hated the smell of it as well, and the salty taste whenever it rolled down her brow and dripped into the corners of her mouth.

She was sweating now, and panting and aching all over and generally hating life. All around her, mares and stallions dressed in scanty gym clothes were doing the same, though they wore expressions that suggested they were actually enjoying their torture.

The happiest of them was the stallion at the head of the herd, his close-cropped tail bouncing as he counted with a gratingly peppy voice. "And one, and step! And two, and step! Come on ladies and gents, you can do it! I wanna see those pesky love handles melt right off your tummies!"

Rarity could definitely feel something melting, though it wasn't her love handles. Her will to go on living, maybe, but the subtle rolls of flab clinging to her barrel weren't going anywhere anytime soon. Still, she did her best to keep up with the peppy trainer, her movements sluggish as she repeatedly climbed on and off her aerobic stepper.

Although she had wrangled her mane into an uncompromising bun, several errant cowlicks had managed to jut free and plaster themselves to her brow. Sweat had pooled under her forelegs and across her chest, gluing her plain white t-shirt to her trunk. Her gym shorts, form-fitting and slitted at the upper thighs, were also damp with sweat - and growing damper with every 'And one, and step! And two, and step!'

"Double time, my little ponies!" the trainer called out. "Lets go, lets go! Get those hind legs up, up, up!"

The class began moving a beat faster, hooves echoing against their plastic steps. The clamor filled the room, tribal in rhythm and energy, like some arcane rain dance proffered to an elder god. And it worked too - only the rain spilled from chiseled bodies instead of clouds, as if that same god had showered them with moisture rung from stones.

Ahead of her, Pinkie Pie's enviably toned croup was bobbing in rhythm with her steps. The word YUMMY spanned across the back of her shorts, the letters made bulbous by the swell of a curvaceous bubble butt. Yummy indeed. Rarity stared at the bouncing, jiggling backside, focused on it, and immediately some of the soreness faded from her limbs.

Many a tight croup surrounded her. Truth be told, she had only joined this awful aerobics class for the butts and the flanks and the lean hind legs - ever since that strange night at Madisoat Square Garden, she had been obsessed with athletic bodies... among other things.

She let her mind wander, and her eyes soon followed. An exhausted yet determined Treehugger was stepping beside her, double-time - one-two-three-four, one-two-three-four - her wild dreads half tamed by a scrunchie. Rarity glanced at Treehugger's sweat-glistened neck, wondering how it might feel to overpower the earth mare and choke her into submission.

Bon-Bon and Lyra were stepping on Rarity's opposite side, scrumptious in their sheer leggings, and ahead of them marched Lily, Daisy and Roseluck - and a dozen others, so many fit bodies to choose from. Rarity pictured herself rolling with each of them, and then wondered how they might fare against each other. She played matchmaker in her head, pitting Daisy against Bon-Bon, Lyra against Lily, Treehugger against Roseluck.

"Oh no! It looks like everypony's favorite fashionista is falling behind!" The trainer was beside Rarity now, his attention fixed on her. "But that's no problem, honey, no problem at all. Me and my fabulously fit pals are gonna help you reach deep into that misshapen skin-sack you call a tummy and pull out the best you possible! Okay?"

"Ummm..." was the best Rarity could manage.

"Okay!" The trainer reared and clapped his front hooves together. "Come on everypony, let's all stop what we're doing so we can give Rarity our full attention. That's right, all eyes on those chubby cheeks and that loose gut. Oh, aren't they just the cutest little things!"

"My cheeks are not chubby!"

The trainer ignored that. "Now everypony give a big cheer, and let Rarity know she doesn't have to succumb to her staggering physical mediocrity! Ready?"

"No, it's quite alright," said Rarity. "There's really no need for -"

"Rare-i-tee! Rare-i-tee! Rare-i-tee!"

Soon, every pony in the room was chanting and stomping their hooves, encouraging Rarity to pick up the pace. She pushed herself to meet their expectations, but only managed to step a tiny bit faster. It was all rather embarrassing.

After eventually collapsing from exhaustion, a dozen forelimbs reached down to help right her again. A dozen more slapped her on the flanks, and the cheers grew to a roar that filled the gym and echoed throughout the rest of the spa.

Thoroughly mortified now, but also feeling more secure in her own hide, love handles and all, Rarity wormed free of the crowd and slunk off to the locker room. The class continued without her; it wasn't due to end for another twenty or so minutes.

Thoughts of semi-nude flesh eddied through Rarity's mind. She staggered into the nearest bathroom stall - one more spacious than the others, meant for handicapped ponies - then sat on the toilet and went about her business. Exhaustion weighed on her shoulders, making them sag.

Once finished, she wiped herself with a tissue and dropped it into the bowl. Then, spontaneously, she wiped a second time with the frog of her front hoof. It came away sticky and glistening.

She frowned at the sheen of arousal coating her hoof. The eddy in her mind gained speed and fury. She lifted the hoof to her muzzle, sniffed at the frog, licked it, then yanked her mane free of its bun and tucked the hoof back between her thighs.

Her face reddened to the pale red of a fresh welt, the cheeks and brow partially covered by a tumble of sweat-matted tresses. Normally, the mess on her head would have bothered Rarity, but the memory of all those toned bodies had claimed her attention. Her hoof kneaded the puffy lips between her thighs, working to relieve the pressure that had mounted there.

Again she played matchmaker in her head, until budding arousal demanded that she improve the fantasy. So she conjured her best mental image of Twilight Sparkle, dressing the princess in snug gym clothes and taking liberties with certain bodily features - making them curve in ways that clashed with reality.

Ever since that night at Madisoat Square Gardens, she had wanted to dominate the princess. And she did so now in her fantasy - a fantasy she'd indulged in dozens of times before.

It always started the same way, with she and Twilight getting into some trivial argument about this or that. Soon, the princess would begin talking in that snarky, know-it-all tone of hers, driving Rarity half insane. But rather than play the proper cultured lady, the seamstress, for a change, would submit to her baser impulses and pounce on Twilight.

She did the pouncing in her mind now, and the rolling and the hitting and the mane-pulling that came after. Eventually she straddled Twilight's muzzle and pinned her to the floor, then hooked her hinds and leaned forward, rounding the princess's back. Fantasy Twilight squirmed beneath Rarity's lap. The seamstress rode her face hard, feeding her a continuous helping of sweaty, muggy pussy until she admitted defeat.

Rarity pictured a purple hoof swatting weakly at her flank. She squeezed her thighs together, imagining that Twilight's muzzle was wedged between them, and came with a shudder that nearly knocked her off the toilet. She had to reach back and grab the tank to steady herself.

Her hips gave a series of involuntary jerks before settling into stillness. She splayed her hinds, sitting like a stallion until she caught her breath. Once the last of her orgasmic trembles subsided, she felt silly and dissatisfied, the way she always did after indulging in these post workout fantasies.

It had started innocently enough, and with Cheerilee of all ponies. The schoolteacher had needed help reconciling with her twin sister, which led to a misadventure involving a sold-out sports arena, a grudge match between rival pro wrestlers, and an unfashionably high concentration of spandex onesies. And by the third act of this bizarre tale, Rarity had somehow found herself physically overpowering an opponent twice her size, her body and mind reeling with adrenaline.

With hindsight it all seemed perfectly absurd, and even unremarkable - just one more goofy adventure in a life riddled with them. And yet she couldn't shake this one. As a rule, she normally avoided all things violent and sweaty and crass and gaudy - and professional wrestling had been all of those and more. So why the desire for another roll? Why the quiet yearning for sweat and tacky nylons?

She sighed and blew strands of mane from her face. Enough with all this silly, existential dread. Exercise was supposed to ease the mind as it taxed the body, not torment both, and Rarity wasn't about to let a little thing like the unraveling of her personal narrative stop her from enjoying today's workout. With her head held high, she hiked up her shorts, pushed open the stall and -

And then tumbled back inside, rolling unceremoniously before knocking her head against the toilet. She glared up, beyond annoyed with the pony who had just shoved her. As much as Rarity disliked physical confrontations, she was not a doormat to be trampled on.

In her sudden anger she started to utter a curious name - a name she had promised to never speak aloud - but then caught herself and let a flustered, "Twi-Twilight!" slip out instead.

Uncommon mischief dwelled in Twilight Sparkle's features. She kicked the stall door shut behind her, then reared, turned and slid the lock into place with her front hooves. There was something deliberate about the action, as if she was making a point of not using her magic.

"You look tense," she said, grinning impishly over one shoulder. "I think you're doing it wrong. Exercise is supposed to be relaxing."

Rarity cut the princess with a glare. "Twilight, now is hardly the time for... for whatever you have planned."

"Hold on a minute," said Twilight. "Remind me again, Rarity, because I forget: exactly when did the 'plans' become mine?"

"You're a bright filly. I'm sure you can suss out my meaning all on your own."

The princess tilted her head. "Was that a dig?"

"Twilight, please. We're in public."

"That's never stopped us before." In the confined space of the stall, Twilight began circling Rarity, an athletic bounce to her limbs. Intrigue lured the seamstress's gaze downward, where she watched pliant leg muscles expand and contract with Twilight's gait.

Though not especially well built, the bookworm understood that regular exercise improved the mind as much as the body. She kept up a disciplined routine of yogic stretches, which she had learned from Zecora, and practiced them every morning before breakfast and every night before bed. The result of such training showed in the play of her toned, supple musculature.

"Do you want to set the rules this time," she continued, "or should I?"

"All I want is for you to leave me alone."

"Sure you do." The mischief in Twilight's face migrated down to her tail, waving the striped banner in a way that drew her rival's attention. A pair of nylon shorts partially covered her cutie marks, cut high enough to leave the bottom point of each starburst exposed. "And as for the rules, I'm in a grabby mood today."

That was just like Twilight. She wanted a wrestling match: all throws and submissions with no strikes. Rarity couldn't abide that. She was in a punchy-kicky-hitty mood herself, and intended to punish Twilight for barging in here unannounced just to toy with her emotions.

With a growl on her lips and a flutter in her chest, she flung herself at Twilight - and the princess laughed aloud and did the same. They butted shoulders, skipped back a step, then circled, reared, clashed a second time.

They clinched in the claustrophobic space, their fores entangled, hooking and unhooking as they pummeled in close. Both failed to secure an advantageous grip. The flutter in Rarity's chest quickened to an almost painful hammering, and her stifles, though still sore from the day's workout, went weak from something other than fatigue.

Catching Twilight in a single collar-tie - one knee hooked behind a purple neck, the other an elbow of the same hue - she pumped her hinds and drove the princess backwards. Their brows were glued together, horns crossed overhead like pikes frozen in mid-thrust.

"I saw your little two-step during class earlier." Twilight curled her lips in what was only the beginning of a smirk - an expression that never quite reached fruition. "And Rainbow says I'm the flabby, awkward, uncoordinated one."

"Do not," Rarity growled, albeit quietly, "take that tone with me."

"What tone?"

"Stop it."

"Stop what? I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

Twilight read the change in her rival's mood. Being the better grappler, she latched onto Rarity and pulled guard. Her hinds scissored a slender waist, and her knees hooked a pair of white forelegs, controlling them. She didn't mind yielding the top position to Rarity; her guard was every bit as good as her mount.

Twilight lifted her hips, pressing her crotch against Rarity's pelvis. Heat radiated from her inner thighs in waves, distracting the seamstress. It warmed her blood, and pumped a fair amount into the lips hidden beneath her gym shorts.

A burst of arousal surged through Rarity's body, followed by a rush of exhilaration, a tinge of anger, a smattering of confusion.

She ripped one foreleg free of Twilight's grasp, then postured up and slammed an elbow into the princess's ribs. A noise between a gasp and a cry filled her ears. The impact sent shockwaves jolting up her foreleg; violent yet delightful tingles that reached as high as her shoulder.

Twilight winced, one eye shut against the pain that erupted beneath her chest. Before another strike was thrown, she bolted upright, scored and over-under bodylock and then returned to the cold floor, forcing Rarity to lay flat on her chest.

Suddenly titillated - perhaps by the ill-will behind her rival's blow, or the pain it had caused - Twilight buried her muzzle into the folds of a milk-white neck. She gave it a pecking kiss, her lips warm and moist against the pillowy flesh.

Rarity's ears perked, reddened. "If I just go ahead and submit now, will you please stop acting like a lunatic and get off me?

"But you're the one who's on me, silly."

"You are unbearable."

"And you're cute when you get all huffy," said Twilight. "I brought the costume with me, by the way. It's folded up nice and neat in my locker, just waiting for a certain diamond themed luchador to slip into it."

"No," Rarity spat. "I already told you, I'm never wearing that hideous rag again."

"Not even for your favorite sparring partner?"

Rarity pushed down on Twilight's hips and bolted upright, breaking the bodylock. Fury, lust, elation - the clashing emotions eddied behind her narrowed eyes, a storm of conflict that she meant to inflict on her rival.

She aimed another blow at the princess's belly - she wasn't angry enough to strike her friend in the face, not yet anyway. But before it landed, Twilight bucked her hips and tried for a sweep, hoping to overturn the mounted fighter.

She failed, and a furious scramble broke out within the confines of the stall. They wrestled like fillies in a sandbox, their contest even until it wasn't. Until Twilight muscled the seamstress onto her haunches and knelt behind her, fores half-wrapped around her neck as the princess battled long and hard to secure a chokehold.

Rarity recalled her fundamentals: control the attacker's fetlocks, tuck your chin, turn into the choke, remain calm. The lattermost rule was the hardest to follow, because Twilight was literally breathing down her neck, and their frames were glued together, and the warmth of exchanged body-heat was gradually melting away her common sense.

She got overanxious, sloppy. She tried to muscle Twilight to the floor, where she could maybe scramble for a better position, but the princess pivoted, turning them both so she could post her back against the wall.

Twilight slipped in a single hook, her heart pounding so hard that Rarity could feel it pummeling her back. Failing to secure the chokehold, she wedged her rival's chin into the crook of one elbow, then joined her front hooves in a frog-to-frog grip and torqued her shoulders. Her biceps peaked as she craned Rarity's head to one side - not too far, but enough to put pressure on her neck.

A deluge of pain flooded Rarity's entire nervous system. She groped at Twilight's forelegs, as confused as she was hurt; she had never endured a hold like this before. Twilight craned her neck even further, then stopped and held Rarity right at the cusp of her breaking point.

"Admit it, you like it down there," the princess whispered. "Go on and say it, I promise nopony will think any less of you."

Rarity grimaced. She tried to shake her head no but couldn't move.

Twilight weakened her rival with the neck crank, then dragged her to the floor and finally secured the chokehold she had sought earlier. Her fores coiled around Rarity's neck with surprising strength, forming a triangle, and her hinds scissored the seamstress's trunk and squeezed.

Twilight had her now. It was only a matter of time before -

Both mares froze at the sound of somepony opening the bathroom door. Footfalls echoed against polished tiles. They disentangled and scrambled onto the toilet seat, bumping elbows and shoulders as they went.

Two mares entered the restroom.

"Did you hear something?" one of them asked. The other shrugged before pushing open a stall and going about her business.

Twilight and Rarity shoved at one another atop the shut toilet seat, giggling quietly at their own mischief. Now Rarity was loose and wet and buzzing with libidinous energy - terrified at the thought of somepony catching her in the middle of her bizarre game, and yet, in a way, also thrilled.

Before the door had even swung shut behind the exiting mares, Rarity shoved Twilight to the floor and belly-flopped onto her stomach. The princess seemed to deflate, the air crushed from her lungs. While she was stunned, Rarity hooked one of her hinds and pressed her crotch to Twilight's, hips rolling as she counted aloud.

"One..."

Twilight moaned as their nethers rubbed together, paralyzed as much by pleasure as pain.

"Two..."

Rarity hugged the hind tight to her chest, head lolling back as rapture-twitches surged through the limb.

"Thr -"

And then a flash of green light haloed Twilight's body, starting at her horn and darting down to her splayed hinds. When the light dissipated, a spandex-clad Pinkie Pie lay in place of the princess, frizzy strands of mane plastered to her sweat-kissed brow.

A randy grin softened Pinkie's muzzle. Her eyelids drooped to a seductive half-lid, and her head tilted slightly, expectantly.

The sudden change caught Rarity off guard, and Pinkie broke the pin with a buck that sent her sprawling. The seamstress scrambled on limbs heavy with fatigue, expecting an attack from her new rival.

Pinkie, however, wasn't one to do the expected. She sat up some but otherwise remained on her back, her front hooves posted on the floor, hinds splayed and raised ever so slightly.

"Where ya going, Rarity? The party's over here." She poked a lewd tongue at the seamstress, a smolder to her lidded eyes.

Again, Rarity let herself get overanxious. She pounced and landed on Pinkie with a muted slap, underbelly to underbelly.

Then a second flesh-on-flesh slap rang out, this time as Pinkie clapped her thighs around Rarity's barrel. Her rear fetlocks crossed, her hinds extended, her hocks and stifles locked out. She sat up and hooked her fores under Rarity's, then dragged the seamstress onto her chest and held both hinds in the air, quads tense from a hard flex.

Thick bands of muscle dug into Rarity's ribs. Wheezing, she locked her fores around Pinkie's head and squeezed back, smothering a pink muzzle under her chest. Her biceps flared as they bit into Pinkie's temples, but the quads on either side of her trunk flared wider, squeezed harder - she couldn't begin to match the earth mare's raw power.

She listed and wound up on her side. Pinkie kept up the harsh squeezing, weakening Rarity, sapping the life from her body. Then she splayed her hinds, muscled Rarity to her back and clamped them shut again - one thigh plunging into a soft belly, the other tucked beneath an arched back.

"Come here," Pinkie husked. She hooked Rarity's far shoulder and dragged her closer, wedging her trunk deeper between her thighs. Then she added a cradle pin to her scissorhold, folding Rarity's supple body in half as she went on compressing her ribs.

Steamy pants caressed the side of Rarity's neck. Her body writhed as it yielded to Pinkie's crushing thighs, her spine alight with pain, love handles gathering in subtle rolls beneath her shirt. She could feel her rib cage bending inward, and knew that Pinkie's good nature was all that prevented a total skeletal collapse.

"Mmmmm, so soft and squishy," said Pinkie. "Like a big, fluffy marshmallow." She drew her hinds closer together, purring as the blade of her inner thigh plunged deeper into Rarity's belly. "Looks like somepony has been skimping on their crunches. But don't worry your flabby little buns, Coach Pinkie is here to whip you into shape!"

Though her tone was sprightly and playful, the strength animating her hinds was anything but. Breaking the cradle pin, she planted her front hooves on the floor and jerked her hips skyward, sacrificing position and control for an explosive burst of power. She posted up on both fores, holding her body at a cant as she demanded just a tincture more force from the muscles beneath her waist.

Rarity clapped a hoof over her mouth, catching a bellow before it escaped and shoving it back down her throat. Pinkie held her rival's trunk aloft, her head tossed back, body arched as she slowly, painstakingly wrung the last remaining drops of fight from Rarity's body.

Rarity turned to meet Pinkie's gaze, and found the lidded eyes grinning down at her. The lips beneath were grinning as well, juicy and wet where she had licked them just seconds ago.

"Give," the earth mare breathed.

Teeth gritted, Rarity wagged her head left and right. She shoved at the thigh on her belly with one hoof, the other still covering her muzzle, until Pinkie snagged it and pinned it under hers.

"Give." It was unlike Pinkie to lose her patience, but Rarity could hear it waning in her voice. She was completely and utterly at Pinkie Pie's mercy - and there was something exhilarating about that, something raw and primal that, until that night in Manehattan, had been sorely absent from her life.

Another flash of green light, and then it was Twilight squeezing her torso. "Had enough yet?"

Rarity swatted at the thigh pressed to her belly, a whimper slipping past her lips. A second later she was free and curled up on her side, coughing, both fores hugging her aching ribs.

She lay supine once the pain subsided. Twilight crawled atop her, huffing and puffing audibly.

"Thanks, darling," said Rarity, running a hoof through Twilight's mane. "I needed that."

"What are friends for?" The green halo flashed again. Fluttershy pecked Rarity on the mouth, nuzzled her neck. "That's two workouts now, and you still seem tense. Did something happen at work today? Or at home maybe? I'm all ears if you want to talk about it."

Rarity definitely did not want to talk about it - or anything else for that matter - but she also wasn't ready to pick herself up off the floor and stagger back into the gym, all bruised and soggy with sweat. So she told Fluttershy about the kind of day - the kind of year, really - she had been having.

Fluttershy was a kitten on her chest. She nodded or cooed encouragements at all the right intervals, but for the most part she listened in silence. It was nice. As good as the real thing, Rarity imagined.

Chapter 2

Six months earlier...

It was all part of another story...

Twilight was having a blast.

Straddling the small of Starlight's back, the princess hooked her pupil's fores and crossed them under her own chin. From there - her stifles bent, rear hooves posted on the canvas - she flung her shoulders backwards and wrenched on Star's fores, the outline of her taut traps visible beneath a tight-fitting shirt.

The harder she wrenched, the more detailed the outline became. Rarity feasted on the odd and oddly titillating sight. Other than tonight, she couldn't recall another time when Twilight had looked so at home in her own body.

Star, however, looked like a mare in considerable pain - another sight that aroused Rarity, though she'd never openly admit it. The pupil grimaced as her backbone curled into a crescent. She was flexible, like her mentor, but the way her body quivered and her hinds flailed suggested she was near her breaking point.

Even so, there was a ferocity in her that outweighed any pain she felt. She was down but not out and seemed to be relishing the struggle, if not her current predicament.

"Tap or snap," said Twilight, a sing-song lilt to her voice.

Star tried and failed to shake her head. "You don't have it in you, Sparkle. You're too soft."

Twilight gave her pupil a sharp tug, showing Star just how soft she was.

"I said... give..." Throaty grunts distorted her voice, lowering the pitch to a gruff timbre. Star's quivering became more pronounced, but she clenched her jaw and endured, her chest rounded sensually, belly sucking in and out as she drew in shallow breath after shallow breath.

Rarity watched the one-sided fight from ringside, seated on a shabby loveseat that comprised the only furniture in the tiny, claustrophobic theater. She was wearing one of her finest cocktail gowns, and couldn't wait for the mare beside her to tear it from her body and toss it aside like a used napkin.

A sphere of heat had formed just below her belly, small now, but gradually expanding like a cloud of gas. She resisted a strong urge to touch herself, content, at least for the moment, to let the pressure of desire build unchecked between her thighs.

"That stubbornness," said Twilight, panting, purring, "is going to get you hurt."

Growing more aroused herself, her arousal nearly in sync with Rarity's, the princess freed her pupil's fores and wrangled her into a chokehold. Her chest mashed against Star's shoulder blades. Her hips drove forward and rocked and undulated, and her nethers ground against the small of her pupil's back in a subtle wiping motion.

The barriers of clothing - her shorts and Star's shirt - seemed to frustrate her. Irritated, she vented that frustration on her pupil's throat, compressing it between a rigid forearm and a peaked bicep. The effort wrung sweat from her pores. The glistening beads coated her hide, lending her muscles the illusion of greater size and definition.

Star's mouth fell open in a hushed wheeze, her cheek hot against Twilight's. Trembling hooves reached for the fores binding her neck, only to get snared and tucked behind two bent stifles. It was a nice touch, one final restriction to punctuate her defeat. She choked down a painful breath, her neck momentarily free - and then Twilight reapplied her choke and squeezed harder, as if punishing her for having the gaul to fight back.

They played their respective roles perfectly: Twilight the dominant teacher, imparting a harsh lesson on her pupil, and Star the submissive student, bending to a will and a body that surpassed her own.

And yet, for all Twilight's squeezing and wrenching and dominating, there was something intimate about her embrace. Watching her, Rarity got the sense that she was holding back, toying with Star in a way that wasn't entirely cruel.

"You're mine," she whispered - and the words meant several things at once, distilling and expressing a tangle of ambivalent feelings.

Still, intimate or not, Star wouldn't last much longer in the suffocating embrace. Her eyelids had drooped to a sleepy half-lid, her wriggles and squirms were starting to slow, to weaken.

It was all terribly fun for Rarity. The sphere of heat below her belly was still expanding. The lips hidden beneath her dress swelled, the pink folds darkening to a richer, rosier hue.

At times like this, Rarity felt the need to rationalize her thrill at witnessing harm befall another pony - especially when that pony was one of her friends. She assured herself that the barbarism of a good fight held no appeal for her, and that she was most intrigued by the accidental intimacy, and the strangely aesthetic interplay of two bodies locked in a struggle for dominance.

Through no small feat of mental gymnastics, she had convinced herself that a submission hold was like a statue carved from flesh and bone instead of rock, ice or clay. Seen in this light, the violent attacker became a thoughtful sculptor, an artisan, her hooves twisting, bending and squeezing her subject's body into new aesthetic shapes. And this reshaping required all the hallmarks of good art: creativity, instinct, practice, patience.

Was that a stretch? Rarity hoped not; she loathed the idea of reducing this... whatever it was... to common sadism.

Not that she could deny the crueler aspects of her new interest.

As if on cue, Twilight demonstrated one such aspect. It was Rarity's least favorite: blunt force trauma. Getting a bit carried away, the princess jackknifed and slammed Star's muzzle into the canvas, then scissored her torso and flexed both quads, compressing the rib cage lodged between them.

Star sputtered into the mat. The frogs of her hooves groped at Twilight's fores, searching the sweaty limbs for purchase.

With her current position Twilight could've easily choked out her pupil, but she wanted a submission not a knockout - wanted to hear Star admit her inferiority. So she traded her chokehold for a facelock, her forearm pressed over Star's eyes like a blindfold, front hooves joined, shoulder braced against the base of her pupil's skull.

And then she curled her biceps, crunching Star's skull between her forearm and her shoulder. The pupil's breath caught. She cursed and tried to scramble up to all fours, but listed and wound up on her side.

Twilight poured on the pressure. Her embrace remained intimate, but now there was an aggression to it that had been absent before, a genuine desire to do harm.

"What's it feel like, Star? Losing your autonomy? Being controlled? Not fun, I imagine." She was swept up in the moment, not thinking before she spoke.

Star got swept up as well. Her horn went off like a flashbulb, searing Twilight's retina's. The princess broke her hold and rolled away, clutching at her shut eyes, and her pupil scrambled after her.

Finding her second wind, Star latched onto Twilight's barrel and hit a sloppy suplex. It wasn't the prettiest slam Rarity had ever seen, but it did the job.

Dazed, Twilight tried to scramble up and away - and that's when Star made her move. Lying crossways on the princess's lower back, she snagged one purple hind with both fores, scissored the other with her hinds, and then flipped Twilight back-first to the mat, pinning her in a kind of variation of a spladle.

The princess bleated as much from humiliation as pain. Star arched her body, heaping pressure onto Twilight's hips as she stretched the princess's hinds, forcing her to perform a wide split.

Flexible though she was, Twilight had her limits. For the first time that night she found herself writhing in Star's grip, her squirming, wriggling crotch on full display for Rarity's gaze.

Rarity liked this new shape for Twilight, even as she scorned her own mouth for turning up at the corners. She watched her friend's pain and humiliation with bridled glee, unable to fully give herself to the experience.

"Well now, ain't you just the cutest little thing the cat ever did drag in." Applejack, who had been watching quietly all this time, turned in the loveseat and pushed her chest into Rarity's shoulder. "I ain't no psychologist or nothing, but I reckon it can't be healthy to keep all them dirty feelings bottled up inside."

She slipped a hoof under Rarity's skirt, between her thighs. The slick feel of her nakedness surprised the farmer, who had been expecting to find a pair of silky panties.

"Some lady," said AJ. "I always figured were nasty under all that pomp." She gave Rarity a rough stroke, teasing a whimper from the seamstress. But she tried for another, Rarity squeezed her stifles together, holding the invasive hoof still.

Applejack tsked. "Come on now, Rare. You don't mean that."

Rarity stayed quiet, eyes riveted to the action in the ring. She felt Applejack shove at the back of her head, move her, muscle her belly-down on the loveseat. The farmer wrestled her dress over her head, tearing it in the process. She pushed her hips against Rarity's croup, as if threatening to penetrate the seamstress with a cock she didn't have.

The orange hoof was still lodged between Rarity's thighs, trapped there, wriggling against slippery folds of flesh. A whimper escaped the seamstress - but still no words. She tried to look up and get a better view of the match, but a strong hoof drove her snout into the seat cushion.

"Quit lying to yerself, Rare. I'll force the truth on ya if I have to."

Rarity's breath came a beat faster. She couldn't bring herself to say no - to utter the lie aloud - so she tried to express her false desire with a headshake.

"Oh, I see. You don't think I'll do it." She seized Rarity's mane and turned her neck, letting her watch the action again. "Yer wrong about that. I will, because yer gonna beg for it."

While Rarity's face was buried in the cushion, Star had been busy reshaping her subject. She was straddling a supine Twilight, her mound bearing down on a purple muzzle. Sweat-stained nylon covered Twilight's nose and mouth, smothering her breath, and the full bodyweight of a grown mare sat heavily on her skull.

And as if that weren't enough, Star had her teacher's hooves pinned to the mat and was driving her hips down, making Twilight feel every pound of her frame. The princess groaned into the snatch on her face, her lips kneading Star through a layer of gauzy nylon.

Rarity was practically salivating.

"Tell me what you want, Rare," said AJ, her voice a whisper behind Rarity's own panting. "I can't help without yer permission."

Rarity remained silent, but she did lift her hips and splay her thighs for AJ, freeing the trapped hoof.

"Atta girl." AJ fondled the submissive mare, the soft frog of her hoof kneading softer, fleshier pussy lips.

"Yer already so wet for me," she husked. "I reckon we can skip the foreplay then."

Applejack lifted Rarity's hips higher and bowed her own head. Full lips pressed against one of Rarity's ass cheeks, and teeth grazed her sensitive hide. She craned her neck to look back at AJ, and, noticing, the farmer seized her mane a second time and gently laid her cheek back on the seat cushion.

"You keep your eyes on the action," said AJ. "That's why you're here, ain't it?"

It was. How positively bizarre...

Star looked up at Rarity, as she could feel the seamstress's eyes roaming up and down her curves. Their eyes met, and Star blew her fan a kiss. Then, her eyes never leaving Rarity's, she snuck both front hooves behind Twilight's head and rolled to her side, her thighs clamping shut, rear fetlocks knotting into a bow.

Her belly expanded with a deep breath, then flattened out as she flexed her quads. Pronounced groin muscles squashed Twilight's nose, pinching her nostrils shut, while a muggy, musty crotch smothered her mouth. The princess scrambled to her haunches and tried to pry open the thighs on her neck, but Star snagged her fores, yanked them straight and hugged them to her chest.

The dominant mare arched her body, and so did Rarity, her pussy winking as AJ licked it from behind. Holding her partner's hips steady, she slurped and lapped at the juices coating Rarity's folds. Her muzzle was half wedged between the seamstress's butt cheeks, sawing in and out in rhythm with her subtle head bobs.

Soon, Rarity noticed that her hips were rolling backwards to meet AJ's limber tongue, the motion entirely reflexive. Her dominion over her own body was slipping away, or rather, little by little, AJ was stealing it from her. She tried to focus on the match, not wanting to miss the coming knockout, but her eyelids were drooping and her vision was turning hazy.

The last thing she saw was Twilight topple back to the mat and land on her side, her body wracked by a sudden fit of convulsions. She made ugly, animalistic snorting noises, the sounds muffled by the crotch pressed to her mouth.

Her twitching muzzle rubbed against Star's mound, and the dominant mare, enlivened by her rival's spasms, pushed her hips forward and let her head loll back, her quads flexed to full expansion. Her muscles quivered.

She controlled both of Twilight's fores with one limb and slipped the other behind the princess's head, pulling at it, taking it deeper as she rode out the pleasing convulsions.

Then the limber tongue found Rarity's clit, and her own eyes snapped shut. She buried her muzzle in the seat cushion, muffling the loud moans that crowded her throat. The roll in her hips became more pronounced, and she ground her croup and dripping mound against AJ's muzzle - hard - her nub throbbing, her body aching for sweet release.

The moment before Twilight's spasms stopped, Rarity's began, the overlap lasting a second - maybe more. A wave of raw pleasure crashed through her body, and her hips jerked, her pussy winked, winked, winked against the intrusive muzzle, the limber tongue.

She plopped onto her belly with a sigh. Her left hind leg twitched. She felt AJ's weight drape across her back, and a tender kiss grazed her ear.

"See," AJ husked. "That weren't so bad, was it?"

"No, not for either of us." Rarity cast her gaze back to the ring. She found Star sitting on her haunches, cradling Twilight's head in her lap. She was tapping the princess's cheek, gently rousing her back to consciousness.

"Easy," she was saying. "You're fine, I got you. Just breathe. That's it, breathe, just like that."

Slowly, Twilight managed to open her eyes. She blinked repeatedly until the grogginess passed, then met Star's eyes with a clear gaze.

"You held on for too long. You could've hurt me."

"You could've tapped."

"How? You had my hooves?"

"I mean before that."

"You want to talk about before? How about before you cheated."

Star's expression dimmed. Her jaw fell open like she meant to scream, but her words came out slow and soft, their force blunted by remorse.

"I'm sorry, okay. I just... I wanted to win. I wanted to beat you at... at..."

Twilight pressed a hoof over her pupil's lips. "That's enough. It's okay." Her hoof slid to Star's cheek, and the pupil bowed her head, her eyes shutting, lips falling in search of Twilight's.

"Are they serious?" Rarity said flatly.

"Ya darn right they are. That's method acting. Old-school."

"It's ridiculous."

"Oh hush up that pretty mouth already. The show ain't over yet."

Rarity rolled to her back and planted a kiss on her partner's throat. AJ kissed her back, then turned to watch the rest of the scene play out. Her eyes seemed to shine in the dark theater, looking brighter than they ever had before - and greener.

It was all part of another, larger story...

It was all rather strange...