A Princess for a President

Barack feels his eyelids peel open. The dark shapes around him are blurry, and he reels his head back and forth trying to make sense of the world around him..

“Lie still.”

He can feel something soft under him as his head rolls back and forth in a daze. He tries to move his arms and legs but they feel bound to him by a soft and heavy cloth like a cocoon.. He tries to break free, to move freely, but the weakness in his body makes the struggles futile.

“Please hold still for a moment...Rarity please stop crying dear...don't move please just lie still for a moment...”

He can hear the far off sound of someone wailing. With all his might, he rolls his body over. The bonds begin to feel tighter. Again he rolls. Someone is telling him to stop. He could hear taps on the floor. He rolls again, and feels the soft ground give way under him and a sharp pain rushes into his arm as he comes crashing down on his side.

““I told you to lie still. Now look at what you've done.”

The shock of the fall brings his senses back to him and he can feel his strength returning as he lashes out with both arms and legs. He can feel himself overcoming the tight cloth cocoon, finally tearing it off and springing up alert with his fists clenched as his eyes adjust to the room. It is a colourful bedroom, adorned with wardrobes, mirrors, closets and drawers. The entire room is neatly ordered except for the bed he had messed, and the quilt which lay crumpled on the ground from his struggle. And by the door he saw Celestia, and he could feel the anger rising in his head and his fists aching to let loose. He strode around the bed slowly like a predator, sizing up his opponent, and readied himself to pounce on the witch, lock his fist around her horn and strangle her until she breaks the spell over him and sends him home.

“Barack..”

He does not respond. She can see the menace in his face as he walks forward.

“Rarity.” Celestia calls, the door opens and Barack hesitates for a moment. From behind the door peeks the small unicorn that had graciously accepted him into her home. A trick maybe? Another one of her golems? Another piece in the plot to ensnare him? He looks into Rarity's eyes. They are bloodshot from crying. Black streaks from her mascara stain her beautiful white face. Her lips tremble and her chest heaves heavily. She dashes into the room and throws herself at Barack's feet.

“Please,” she begs crying “please don't banish me to your sand tomb dungeons. I'll do whatever you want. I'm too young and beautiful to be locked away in a dusty pyramid.” She continued spouting apologies and pledges to redeem herself, interrupted with bursts of tearful wailing and the occasional hiccup.

“She's been like this for an hour now. Completely hysterical Could you perhaps convince her that you'll do none of those things and that this is not her fault?”

Barack fights the urge to pity the poor girl crying at his feet. He wants to continue being angry. To step right over this pathetic wretch at his feet and wrap his fingers around Celestia's throat. But the little pony, her pitiful weeps pierce his steeled anger, and hurt him in the core of his heart. He knows the feeling all too well. It is the cry of his countrymen that drove him to politics. The softness that presidents have in their heart, which shield from the onslaught of realpolitik when they take their post. The softness that carries them into their station and wins the hearts of their citizens.

There, on a visit to Alabama, Lincoln's heart is touched when he sees a black man trip in his chains. There, in his office, Roosevelt's heart burns when the message arrives; Pearl Harbour bombed. There, in front of the rubble in New York, Bush's heart is one with the sadness and fury of an assembled crowd. Here, in places unknown, Obama kneels and wraps his hands around a weeping unicorn. He whispers comforts into her ear. He feels her soft coat against his bare chest; its warmth seeping into him. She looks up into his eyes, sniffling, her tears subsiding. Her lips form a quivering smile. Barack kisses her on the forehead, and hugs her again, rubbing her side gently, he can feel her heart thumping quickly as he holds her close.

“I'm glad you two have made up but I am still wholly famished.” Celestia said smiling.

“Oh goodness I forgot all about lunch!” Rarity moaned and she started trembling again.

“Now Rarity it's no great deal. Come now, wash your face and go outside for a walk. That will freshen up your mood. Here, take this gold and see if you can bring us something to eat. Goodness we still haven't showered and it's almost sundown. Come now Rarity, you're not in any trouble my little pony, please stop worrying. Here let me wipe your face...now for a little makeup...and now you're the prettiest pony in Ponyville once again. Here let me pick a hat for you.”

Barack leans against the door and watches the two girls go about. Celestia and Rarity smile and laugh as they pick outfits and fix Rarity's hair. Celestia looks over at him. That look in her eyes. She knows that feeling. The one that makes men into presidents; ponies into princesses.

“I'll be back as quickly as possibly.”

“Take your time dear, just try not to attract any attention. Remember we're visiting secretly. Not a word to anyone about us.”

“Of course not princess, you can trust me entirely. Now if I may take my leave, princess, prince.”

Rarity bows before the two of them and trots away smiling with a lovely green bonnet on her head and a matching scarf around her neck. Celestia walks over to Barack. They both look at each other sheepishly.

“I read your mind while you were asleep.” Celestia said.

Barack didn't say anything.

“If you want, I can take you back. Or let you look back into your own world.”

“Did you put a spell on me?”

“Never. Not since the day we met, and even that was only for a moment. For our own protection.”

“Why did I pass out the way I did.”

“It might have been the magic in the...syrup I gave you.”

“It didn't turn back in my stomach did it?”

“No, at least what you threw up in Rarity's bathroom did not. Your stomach is not like ours. It can withstand a magical brew, but I think that moment when your will broke...it didn't matter what was in your stomach, something had to come out. Something ugly.”

Barack winces.

“Don't worry, I mopped it up.”

“Still reading my mind?”

“I don't need to read your mind to know that you, we both, regret putting our humble host through such trouble.”

“True enough.”

“Do you still want to go back?”

“No, not unless something is wrong. Is it? I know you've peeked into my world at least once since I passed out.”

“No problems from what I saw. Your advisers and handlers seem overly happy having you be so submissive to their instructions. They'll be rather heartbroken when you return.”

“Let them. Listen I still need to take a shower.”

“As do I. Between Rarity, you, and the mess you left in the bathroom I haven't had a chance to bathe either.”

Barack caught the scent of grass, sweat and soil from himself and Celestia.

“Together then?”

“Together.”

They walk to the bathroom. Barack holds the door open for her, and as she passes through he reaches out and strokes her butt. She wiggles it a little for his pleasure and motions him to follow her inside. The tub is large enough for two ponies to sit comfortably, but it would be a tight fit for the two of them. Celestia turns on the tap. She turns to Barack and kisses him on the lips. They stand kissing each other lovingly until the tub fills up. He runs his hands over her mouth and into her mane; stroking the crown of her head.

“I remember, when we first met,” he said tracing the creases in her hair. “You were wearing a crown and large gold necklace.”

“I keep them at home when I travel alone. They get in the way when I work up a sweat.”

“You working up a sweat now?”

“Maybe. I might need help wiping it off if I do.”
Celestia picks up a bottle of bath bubbles with her magic and pours it into the tub. Pink bubbles foam to the top and she gingerly steps in and sits down. Barack stands in the tub and sits down on the rim. He picks up some soap suds and and rubs them along her neck. Celestia levitates a bottle of shampoo towards her and pours it on her head. Barack begins to massage her scalp and spread the shampoo through her hair. Her hair falls straight down under the weight of the shampoo. Barack gets on his knees. It's a tight fit, the two of them have to sit cheek to cheek, their bodies almost touching. Close enough to feel each other's heat and the occasional bump as they stretch around the tub. Obama reaches over and begins to wash her back. He leans in closer, past her head, his hans slide down her sides and begin to scrub her underbelly. He can feel her breath past his cheek as he feels her body firmly with his fingertips. She stands up gently, and he spreads his legs out around her. His hands begin to run up and down her legs. The scent of the bubble bath reminds him of roses. Celestia tells him to close his eyes; he does. He sees a flash behind his eyelids, and finds Celestia had teleported herself around on the same spot. He gently massages her tail with shampoo and lets it drop wet against her ass. He finishes cleaning her hind legs and starts rubbing his hands over her round butt with soap suds. He parts her tail gently messages her vagina; cleaning the little stains he had left in the morning. He dips his finger in the water and gently inserts it into her asshole. Celestia's back arches in reaction but she doesn't say a word. He twists his finger gently and pulls it out again. Barack turns on the shower head over the tub and rinses Celestia, her mane, and her tail.

Barack looks away as Celestia uses her magic to turn around on the spot again. He lifts himself up, and onto the edge of the tub. He can feel soap suds crawling around his body as Celestia uses her magic to clean him.

“Can you feel through your magic when you touch me with it?”

“Every inch.”

Her magic works its way down his body from shoulders to feet while simultaneously massaging his scalp with shampoo. She rinses his hair, and cleans around his privates, using her magic to slip under his foreskin and wipe it clean. She feels his penis jerk as it slowly inflates at her touch..

“Getting a little hot?”

“Are you?”

“Yes, but I'm a little famished.”

“I wouldn't want to wear myself out on my first day either.”

They both stood up and rinse once more with the shower head. Celestia begins to drain the tub and Barack steps out carefully. The floor is a little wet and he reminds himself to clean it later. No need to be a greater burden on their host. He picks up some bath towels, large enough for a pony but little larger than a hand towel for a grown man. He wipes himself down and looks over at Celestia. Several towels gently rub against her as she blow drys her wet mane. Like magic her straight wet hair blooms into her usual billowing mane. Barack mops up the floor and they leave the bathroom smelling like roses.

They smell the delicious scent of soup and bread coming from the kitchen. When they enter Rarity looks up and immediately blushes and turns away.

“I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't had time to tailor an ensemble for you Prince Barack.” she stutters in embarrassment. Barack realizes he is standing stark naked and moves his hand to shield his privates.

“It's quite understandable in the circumstances Rarity...”

“Oh but a Prince like you can't be seen walking around like that. Come with me into my studio I'll have something made for you in an instant.”

Barack and Celestia follow Rarity into her work space. She flicks her magic horn deftly levitating her tape measures, pencils and notepads from around the room and begins working with the practised ease of a professional.

“I had come up with the perfect outfit as I...was walking...to the restaurant...Monsieur Prince. Sorry it's difficult to...work...and talk at the same time.” She said slowly, with a look of intense concentration. But Celestia had seen the blush on her face as she measured Barack's naked legs. His penis was still a little stiff from his bath escapade. As Rarity's face moved closer to examine the tape, her warm exhalation brushed across his penis making it twitch. Rarity pretended to ignore it, fixedly staring down the tape measure for far too long, bravely to hide her embarrassment. But Celestia had been walking around the room looking at the various fashion products. From behind he could see the distinct redness of Rarity's vagina through her fur becoming more pronounced as her arousal grows. Her tapes snap shut and fall to the ground as she finishes measuring.

“Un momente si vous plais” she said and began expertly pulling cloth and tools from around the room. Barack and Celestia wait patiently Rarity works fixedly on her task. After five minutes she turns around and a black silken vest with a golden interior glides over to Barack and slips itself on his body. Barack is amazed that the fabric is so light and soft and yet still manages to provide a degree of warmth. Even more so, the cartoonish cloth instantly materializes in fabric that looks from his world as it slips itself onto his body.

“Dimensional resonance.” He hears Celestia mutter, although she did not muse further. Rarity accepted the transformation without a hint of surprise and continued.

“I cannot lie sir, the cloth for this vest was made from scraps from an order by a Canterlot noble. But it fits beautifully don't you agree? Waste not want not as I always say.”

“It's beautiful Rarity, thank you.”

“And for your...lower parts, try this on for size.”

A pair of Arabic looking white pants, a sirwal, float over to him. He puts them on and like the vest they reconstitute themselves into recognizable material from his world.

“No shoes?”

“I'm afraid I have none that could be made in such a short time.”

“We'll have you fitted when we arrive in Canterlot. The walk through the forest does not seem to have been too taxing on your feet.”

Barack agreed though he began to feel some aches in his sole as he thought more about it.

“I could use a belt.”

“Oh a belt how could I have forgotten!” Rarity says ashamedly and franticly started searching her shop.

“Here this rope will do for now.” Celestia said, and she tied a simple brown rope around his waist with her magic.

“You look dashing.” Celestia said smiling. “Why not look at yourself in the mirror.”

Barack could not help but think he looked like a cross between a sultan and a street begger. A regular prince of thieves from Arabian Nights. Although the makeshift belt was a little “ghetto” so to speak, the silken vest and its gold lining made him look nothing less then a prince as it hangs against his rugged and toned abdomen.

“Perhaps a shirt to fit under the vest would have been more appropriate or no?” He askd.

Rarity blushes again and averts her eyes.

“Oh but I thought you would look more handsome and bold with your chest bared like a stallion.” She said embarrassedly.

“And so it does. Chin up Rarity you have done a fine job and an excellent service to the royal house of Canterlot.”

Rarity beams and bows before her Princess in gratitude.

“Now if there are to be no more interruptions” Celestia continued, “I would like to have at least something for my supper. I have missed both breakfast, lunch, brunch, tea and everything in between. I have not had a morsel to eat since yesterday night and as your Princess I now order both of you into the kitchen and to pamper me with food.” she said with a grin.

They walk to the kitchen, sit down around the breakfast table and open the bags of food Rarity had brought. Hot soup; still warm despite the wait. In our world it would be called French onion soup garnished with cheese. The bread had become a little hard but they enjoyed softening it by dipping it in their soup. Along with the bread there was steamed rice seasoned with spices. It was delicious by itself or with the side of vegetables that come with it. Rarity had brought plenty of food, unsure of how much her large guests would eat, and she found they could eat plenty having had nothing to eat all day. Even more she had brought several fruit out from the cupboards and placed water to boil for tea afterwards.

They ate silently enjoying the food and appreciating the company and pleasure of not eating alone. As they began to sip their tea and nibble on apples and the like, the princess asked Rarity a question.

“Rarity, did you by chance run into anyone as you returned with the food.”

“No, no one at all.”

“Rarity, it is treason to lie to your princess.”

“Now that you mention it Princess,” Rarity spoke, a little embarassed to have her lie so easily detected. “I did manage to run into Pinkie Pie -you remember Pinkie Pie yes? The hypochondriac with the frazzled pink mane?- Well she had stopped me asking what all the food was.”

“And your reply?”

“Well I had to lie Princess. Honest to goodness I know no one belives a liar and its awfully unladylike to have lies sprout so casually to your lips, and I apologize for lying earlier, but I told her the food was for myself, and that in Cos-Moo-Politan it had said that plump was in for the winter and a little extra weight would look ravishing on mares in Autumn clothing.”

“Do you think she believed you?”

“She certainly dropped the questions and bounced along.”

Celestia nods contemplatively.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all, you acted in the same grace and sensibility that you have shown me time and time again. However I do not think you have shaken your peruser quite so easily. Rarity, Barack and I must secretly travel to Twilight's residence tonight and spend the night there. On the morning we will travel to Canterlot. For your hospitality today Rarity, I cordially invite you to come with us on our trip.”

Rarity shrieks with delight.

"Me in Canterlot?! With the as a special guest of the princess?! Why...why..."

“I'm glad you are excited my dear but I would ask you to refrain from such outbursts again, or atleast until we are safe in Canterlot. I don't think our cover here in Ponyville will be safe for long. Leave the plates in the sink, we have to leave immediatly."