Serving the Sun

by Twinkletail

Rating: teen
Tags: Anon, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Second Person, Profanity, Princess Celestia
Length: 5008

Anon runs afoul of an ancient Equestrian law.

Anon is woken up early to find that Princess Celestia has found it necessary to inform him of an ancient Equestrian law that concerns him. Of course he would make a good personal masseuse, right?

Rated teen for foul language and a tiny bit of lewd references.

This is an anonymous commission! Feel free to contact me if you’re looking for a commission as well!

Cover art by Mercurial64! 1988247

Published 2020-08-20 13:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2020-08-20 13:40:02 UTC

EAT

“This is bullshit.”

There’s a collective gasp around you, one which doesn’t really shock you in the least. You’ve grown pretty used to this kind of reaction from ponies any time an expletive escapes your mouth. It’s an incredibly common occurrence. Their poor candy ears just can’t take a bit of cussing. This is probably the first time you’ve done it in front of royalty, though. Besides Twilight. Purplesmart only kind of counts as royalty in your book.

If there’s anypony in this room that doesn’t think a sharp word or two is going to bring about the end of horse society as they know it, it’s the ~~swan~~ princess herself. There’s Celestia, sitting up on her throne, all haughty like usual. She honestly isn’t so bad; a lot less annoying than many of the other ponies you’ve had to deal with since getting stuck here. Even so, you can’t deny that dealing with her whole “I am the authority” thing can be a pain. Where does she get off, with her...well, she hasn’t said anything bothersome that you can think of right now. But there’s definitely something.

“What’s the problem, Anon?” Celestia asks, looking at you with that smug little grin that you’re used to seeing from her. “What, exactly, is bull about this?” The way she avoids repeating the word just bothers you even more than you already were.

“Who the hell calls a meeting at seven in the morning?” you reply, crossing your arms in defiance. “I should have a good two or three more hours until I’m awake and angry. Now I’m angry earlier and it’s really throwing off my schedule.”

The guards to your left and right tense up and glare at you. It would probably be more intimidating, but when you’re more than a head taller than them, it staves off some of the scariness factor. Celestia, on the other hand–you refuse to say “other hoof”–lets out a soft chuckle.

“Anon,” the tall one begins. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I wake with the sun, as the sun wakes with me. I’ve been awake and conducting business for about...two hours now? You’ll forgive me for the lack of sympathy, I’m sure.”

She really isn’t half bad. You can respect the snark. You’d still rather be in bed though.

“Yeah, yeah...” you reply, the eternal debate-winning counterpoint. “So what’s this all about anyway? What was so urgent that my dreams had to be interrupted?”

“Based on what my sister has told me, interrupting your dreams might be for the best,” Celestia responds.

You remind yourself to have a word with Luna about breaches of privacy later.

“As for your question...” Celestia continues, regarding you with a curious gaze. “Tell me, what have you read of Equestrian law and legislature since you’ve arrived here?”

“Do you really need to ask that question?” you reply. “Pretty sure you already know the answer.”

“I like to do things formally, Anon,” Celestia says, another grin crossing her face. “So is it safe to assume you know nothing of the Equestrian Acquirement Treaty?”

“Other than the fact that its initials spell out EAT?” you ask. “Not a thing.” One of the guards stifles a small snicker. So they can emote. The one you screamed in front of for five minutes straight the other day must have just been really good at ignoring his surroundings.

“You know, that acronym was a point of contention,” Celestia replies, shaking her head. “I was the winning vote on deciding the name. I was hoping nopony would notice, but here we are.”

“Eh, there are worse things it could spell,” you say, giving a little shrug. It’s weird, but this big white horse has a way of calming you down when she talks. You’re still pissed about the early wakeup call, but you’re already feeling more relaxed chatting with her.

“Ah, yes,” Celestia says with a cheeky grin. “One of the ponies in that delegation had another idea with a worse abbreviation, but I vetoed it rather quickly. Let’s just say that when it starts with 'Celestia’s United,' it’s only downhill from there.”

Your jaw practically falls off of your face. You look to the guards to either side of you. They haven’t reacted at all. You give the princess a nod of acknowledgement before speaking again, having gained a newfound appreciation for her. One which will probably be dashed in a few moments.

“Alright, so what is it?” you ask. “And why is a lesson in law so crucial that I need to be woken up early for it? Because I’m still annoyed about that, if you haven’t gathered.”

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” Celestia replies. “The reason I ask you about this law is because it actually pertains to your situation.”

The Princess leans back slightly, and your opinion of her is already falling. She’s moving into what you refer to as “exposition position.” The mere fact that you’ve seen it enough since your arrival in Equestria to give it a name vexes you greatly, almost as much as the implication of what is to come. Celestia is about to dive into a probably-long, definitely-boring explanation for something. Her mouth starts to move, but your eyes have already glazed over. The only positive to being so familiar with the exposition position is the ability to see it coming and know how to defend against it with utter malaise. Thoughts of absolutely anything but the situation you’re currently in bounce back and forth in your head, drowning out the monarchical monologue until the signs of its cessation rear their heads.

Sure enough, after about a minute or so, Celestia’s posture changes and she takes a breath. Both clear signs that the speech is ending. You corral the wandering of your mind just in time to hear the final words:

“So, is this all agreeable to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” you mutter, just wanting to get back to bed. The Princess claps her hooves, a delighted smile crossing her face.

“Excellent!” Celestia chirps. “Then we’ll get you fitted for your dress and collar immediately.”

No one ever said the tuning-out defense was flawless.

“Wait, what?” you sputter.

“You just agreed to become my royal masseuse, did you not?” Celestia asks, raising a brow. “We just went over it.”

Your mind blanks. Although this time, it’s not intentional.

“Or were you not listening?” Celestia asks.

Then you catch the smallest hint of a smile, and a wave of relief washes over you.

“Are you messing with me?” you ask. The smile grows a little.

“I don’t know,” Celestia responds playfully. “Maybe I’ll answer that if you admit that you weren’t paying attention.”

It’s embarrassing being talked to like a child, but you can pretty much understand. When you’re over a thousand years old like she is, everyone must be a child to you.

“Fine, fine,” you respond. You feel your own lips starting to curl into a smile, but you fight it off. “I might not have been paying attention.”

“I thought as much,” Celestia replies, giggling quietly. “I guess I can admit that I was messing with you, in that case.”

“Thank God,” you say. “Or, uh, thank you, I guess.” You stretch, giving your back and knuckles a good crack as you turn. “So I’ll be heading back to sleep now...”

“Excuse me?” Celestia asks. “Your first assignment as my royal masseuse starts now, my dear.”

You slowly turn to the Princess, giving her a cock-eyed look.

“Uh, you just said you were messing with me,” you reply evenly.

“I did say that,” Celestia replies simply. “I was messing with you about the dress and collar. The other part was very much real.”

Your right eyebrow threatens to raise off of your forehead entirely.

“You’re kidding,” you state flatly. Your statement is met with a smirk and a shake of the head.

“According to the EAT,” Celestia says, very likely repeating something that you had ignored. “Any otherworldly object, living or not, that arrives in Equestria on royal territory is subject to ownership by the leading monarch once it has remained in his or her control for a period of one moon without returning to its origin or being claimed by a being from its origin. In the event that the object is sentient, said object may be employed by the reigning monarch in whatever position they so desire, but must be compensated for employment, so as not to indicate enslavement.”

She clears her throat, smiling warmly in your direction. “And today marks one full moon since I took you in, my little object. Personally, I think I’ve chosen a rather good job for you, and you’ll be handsomely compensated.”

You stare intently at the Princess, looking for any semblance of a sign that she is indeed messing with you. Either she’s got the world’s greatest poker face, or she’s being entirely serious.

“I reiterate,” you finally say. “This is bullshit.”

Celestia laughs softly as your glare becomes more intense, and as her guard continues to cower at the big mean words.

“Oh, come now, Anon,” Celestia coos. “It’s really quite a nice assignment. Now come along to my bedchambers.” With that, the monarch rises from her throne and turns tail, glancing back at you with a little nod of her head to encourage you along. You look to the useless guards for help, but they, unsurprisingly, continue to be useless. With a groan, you start to follow her. You have to admit that the smile on her face when she sees you follow is pretty cute, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating. As it stands, though, it’s probably better to just get it over with.

Celestia’s bedchambers are pretty much exactly as you expected them. The place is impeccably neat, to the point where you feel like your disposition alone is knocking its tidiness down a peg. The walls are adorned with portraits of what you assume are important ponies in her life. You recognize Luna and Twilight, of course, but most of the rest are a complete mystery to you. Ornate wooden furniture brings the place together, and lines up to draw the eye to the big centerpiece: a huge canopy bed, topped with an impossibly plush-looking pink bedspread. If a six year old girl had been assigned to describe a pony princess’s bedroom, this would have earned her extra credit.

“How do you like it, Anon?” Celestia asks, glancing back to you once more.

“It’s pretty much exactly what I expected and I don’t know how to feel about that,” you reply.

“That’s a shame,” Celestia replies. “I wish I was a little more unpredictable.” She catches your eye with a mischievous look. “Also, should I be concerned that you’ve thought enough about what my bedroom might look like that it met your expectations?”

“It’s not like that,” you reply quickly. You’re not looking to have that kind of accusation on your plate.

“Oh, relax,” Celestia tells you. “I’m just toying with you. Although you know, it’s very rare for another to see my bedroom. You must be honored.”

“Yippee,” you state unenthusiastically. You notice the princess’s ears fold against her head. You’ve been around ponies enough to know that this is a sign of either anger or disappointment, and she certainly doesn’t seem angry right now. Even though she’s forcing you to be her servant, she’s been nothing but nice otherwise, and you can’t help but feel bad.

“Sorry,” you tell her. “Guess I could have laid off the sass.”

“Then you wouldn’t be the Anon I’m used to,” Celestia replies, her smile returning. It suddenly occurs to you that you’ve never seen the princess without her regalia. The impetus for this sudden thought happens to be the fact that she is removing said regalia at this very moment. Her crown is removed first, set carefully on a burgundy cushion by her magical hold. Then comes her...well, you’re not sure what to call it exactly. Her necklace...collar...thing? A brief, naughty thought involving collars invades your mind, but you quickly swat it out. Finally, the shoes come off, although no magical aid is needed there as she is able to just step out of them. You briefly wonder how shoes like that can stay on a pony’s hooves without falling off all the time, but you figure it can be explained away as magic, because that’s how everything works here.

It’s the strangest thing. The crown, neck thing, and shoes didn’t cover up any sensitive areas, but staring at the princess without them on as she steps onto her mattress feels...oddly scandalous. Celestia clearly notices the way you’re looking at her, and shoots you a playful smile. Thankfully, you’re calm, cool, and collected enough to only make a mildly strange noise in response. Any stranger and she would have known something was up.

“Come now,” Celestia says, beckoning you to come closer with a gentle tilt of her head as she gets nice and comfy on the bedspread. “You can’t do your job from all the way over there, you know.”

You consider starting to argue against this again, but then you decide against it. You’d be wasting your time and energy, as Celestia seems rather set on sticking to the aforementioned law. From everything you’ve seen from her, she can be very stubborn, especially when it comes to ancient Equestrian laws. You still have no idea whether that story about her having to marry a stallion because their noses touched was true or not. Anyway, the point is that it’s probably best to just get it over with for now. Your approach brings a smile to her face.

“There we go,” Celestia says, nodding in approval at your acquiescence.

“Yeah, yeah,” you mutter as you climb onto the bed. “So where do I start?”

“Wherever calls to you,” Celestia answers. “Though I will say that my neck has been especially stiff this morning.”

If she had spoonfed you that information any more blatantly, an actual spoon would have been involved. You roll your eyes and stare at that swanlike neck. The sooner you do this, the sooner you can finish, and the sooner you can get back to thinking of a way out of it.

Your hand rests on the princess’s pristine white coat, just a bit below her ear. You quickly learn two things: the princess’s neck muscles are quite firm, and her coat is more than quite soft. You suppose that both make sense, the more you think about it. The coat is soft because she’s got all the money in the world and can afford the finest shampoos and conditioners, and the neck is strong because she’s got to hold up that big head with that huge horn.

“I can’t help but notice you’re not doing any massaging, Anon,” Celestia coos. “Your hand does feel nice, but it should be rubbing and not just resting.”

You grumble in response. The actual words that are muffled by your poor enunciation would have probably made Celestia’s guards faint. She’s so annoyingly good at being catty. Makes sense, since she’s had at least a thousand years to work on that.

Your hand finally begins to move. Back home, you had a girlfriend or two who enjoyed getting massages from you. Not that you’re trying to compare this experience to having a girlfriend, of course. You’re just saying that you know how to massage. Granted, that was when dealing with human women rather than a horse, but at the very least, the neck doesn’t seem to be all that different. You rub that neck carefully, but firmly. It’s still bugging you that you’re being forced into this, but it could be worse, all things considered. You shift positions, getting on your knees so you can reach around and get your other hand on the other side of her neck. After a bit of rubbing, you flex your fingers, letting the tips dig into those muscles. This elicits a noticeable verbal reaction from the princess.

“Ahh...” Celestia...practically moans, and you’re not sure how to feel about that. “I’ve received massages from ponies, but none of them can do that. What do you call those things again?”

“Uh...fingers?” you respond. It’s so weird to answer a question like that. Granted, horses don’t have fingers, but it’s still like something a five year old would ask.

“Ahh, fingers,” Celestia says. “Then let them keep finging.”

The response pops into your head immediately, and you’re unable to stop your mouth from conveying it.

“It’s called fingering, princess.”

“Fingering!” Celestia repeats, a hint of foalish joy in her tone as she toys with the new knowledge she’s been dealt. “Then you simply must continue fingering me!”

You regret everything. Even things unrelated to the current situation. One of the things you regret most is the effect that particular sentence said in that joyous feminine voice had on you. You do your best to simply concentrate on ~~fingering~~ ~~finging~~ massaging her. Thankfully, something about the softness of her coat makes it easy to focus entirely on that task. You haven’t really made a habit of touching the pastel horses that you’ve been interacting with since you got stuck here, but you’ve done so once or twice, and you’re positive that none of the others felt this soft.

Reaching around Celestia to the other side of her is beginning to get a bit awkward, especially as you’re about to move your rubs from her neck to her shoulders. Do ponies technically have shoulders? You’re not entirely sure. Either way, it’s getting awkward to reach from your current position. So, with more than a bit of uncertainty, you shift positions once more. If she doesn’t like your idea for a new position, surely she’ll let you know. Until then, she’ll have to deal with it, as this was all her idea anyway. One leg swings up and around the big ol’ horse, knee coming to rest on the other side of her rump. You are now straddling the Princess of the Sun.

You can’t help but bite your lip at the feeling of that powerful being between your legs. You wait to hear a complaint from her, but no complaint comes. Either Celestia is keeping quiet about her displeasure, or it's the complete opposite and she’s quite happy with you being atop her like this. Whichever one it is, you need to keep this going so you can get it over with. Your hands slide down past her neck and onto her back. Again, the firmness of those muscles surprises you. When you think princess, you usually think soft and feminine, not swole AF. And yet she’s keeping the look of the former while packing the build of the latter under that appearance. Horses, man.

You let your fingers dig into that velvety coat and those powerful muscles, your eyes drifting closed as they do. As annoyed as you are about your predicament, this is far more relaxing than you had anticipated, and the soft sounds of approval that your leader—you won’t refer to her as your owner—is making in response to your actions serve as a peaceful soundtrack. You gather a roll of royal flesh and squeeze, chuckling softly as you elicit a slightly louder noise from the princess. Your eyes open and meet unexpectedly with Celestia’s as she gazes back at you. Something about the way she looks at you makes it almost impossible not to return her smile. Your cantankerous nature fights it valiantly for a few moments, but eventually loses the battle as you smile back to her. The returned gesture brightens her smile that much more before she returns to looking away from you.

“You’re doing wonderfully, Anon,” Celestia tells you, crossing her front hooves demurely in front of herself. “I’m quite glad I’ve acquired you.”

“I’d really prefer it if you didn’t talk about this whole thing like that,” you say back to her, eliciting a tiny titter from the monarch. She’s clearly not going to let that go. And yet it’s hard to stay frustrated at her. Despite enacting this ridiculous law on you, she really is pretty nice. You feel the royal rump shift slightly between your legs as she gets more comfy, and you return to your task, digging your digits into her upper back. You bunch the skin up, letting out a soundless sigh as you enjoy the feel of that sleek coat.

Just as you’re about to slide your hands downward, Celestia suddenly spreads her wings. You knew those things were huge, but from this position they seem absolutely massive. You’ve heard of animals back home spreading their wings in such a way to look larger and more intimidating to others, and you’re pretty positive that she’s not doing this for that reason, but it still manages to just barely have that kind of effect on you. You get the feeling that she’s sensed this reaction from you, because she turns once again to smile sweetly at you and let you bask in the radiance of her grin.

“Please do be careful near the wingstalks, Anon,” Celestia sings. “Although don’t ignore them completely. A little rubbing there would be very welcome if you’re delicate about it.”

You nod wordlessly. Which, the more you think about it, is a silly sentence, as nods are not inherently wordy. Regardless, you start rubbing and kneading the flesh around and under the wingstalks, the coat here just as impossibly soft as the rest. Those gigantic wings flutter slightly as your rubs approach them, and for the first time, a new word to describe the princess enters your head. Adorable. You’re not sure how she would take that, so you keep it to yourself for now, simultaneously damning yourself for thinking that. She’s just drawing you deeper and deeper, and you’re having a hard time finding the will to resist it.

You eye those wingstalks, remembering what she said. Your hands move tentatively towards them. You were never really known for being delicate, but dammit, you’re going to try. Because you want to get it over with. Yeah, that’s the ticket. Your hands rest on the very bases of them, and you’re floored by just how fragile they feel compared to the rest of Celestia’s body, almost as if they didn’t belong there. As such, you know your technique from the rest of her isn’t going to fly here. No pun intended. You surprise yourself with your carefulness as you place your index fingers behind each stalk, using that leverage to apply juuuust a bit of pressure with your thumbs.

That was a different sound from Celestia. A good different, though. If you didn’t know better, you’d think she just moaned.

Yeah, you’re pretty sure she did.

A sly grin crosses your face, and you use your digits to roll around the thin limbs, only applying just enough pressure to keep those sounds coming. With how thin they are, you feel like any more pressure could break them. Her hindquarters shift again under you, ever so slightly. Then you hear it.

“This is amazing, Anon...”

God, the way she said that...her tone dances at your eardrums, a soft and breathy alto. You had no idea wings were so sensitive. You keep the rubs coming, moving up those wingstalks until you feel where the stalk ends and the feathers begin. Then you start moving back down, before you feel the familiar feeling of a magic grip on your hands.

“L...let’s move on, Anon.”

Perhaps you’re getting her a bit riled up? The thought of it makes your smile grow. You’ve found a weakness, one that you’ll be sure to exploit if you find the opportunity. Say, for example, the next time she has you do this.

You take the hint, letting the wingstalks go for now. You just barely pick up the sound of a sigh of relief as your hands return to her body, now concentrating on her chest and belly. Or what you can reach of her belly, since those big haunches are in the way of a good bit of it. You shift your own position, easing yourself off of her rump so you don’t have to get all cramped up to rub the sides of her belly. There’s not a whole lot you can do around her ribs. Her belly, on the other hand, is ripe for some quality rubs. It’s nice and tight, as Celestia seems to keep herself in rather good shape...other than that rump, but you’re not about to point that out. You’re not aware of all this society’s norms, but you’re pretty sure the rule of never telling a woman that her ass is big extends to mares as well.

An idea pops into your head, and you decide to act upon it. You’re pretty sure this particular zone isn’t erogenous, but you can always cite ignorance if it turns out that it is. Carefully, you slip the extended fingers of one hand between her haunch and her belly. This area does feel a lot more tender, and you hear a giggle from Celestia as you rub there. You decide to let your other hand explore similarly, though you’re careful not to move too far down. You’re quite aware of some particular facts about pony anatomy by this point, and you know better than to rub too low on a mare’s belly. At least not without permission.

You extract your hands from their position and rest them on her sides once more, looking at the pony laying in front of you. You’re pretty sure that you’ve rubbed everywhere that is being presented to you, save for one place. As with the lower belly, you’re not entirely sure that touching the royal rump is part of your job, and doing so when you’re not expected to would likely be a very easy way to get on the princess’s bad side.

Once more, you feel that magical grasp on your hands. You look up to see Celestia looking back at you with a playful grin, horn lit up. As if to answer your unspoken question, your hands are pulled towards you, then laid down on her cutie marks.

Back home, you had a girlfriend or two with whom you got close enough to allow a playful butt grab here and there. None of those butts, however, compare to the one that you’re grabbing right now. Pillowy soft, but with a clear feeling of firmness beneath.

Praise the sun indeed.

You hear the princess clear her throat, still focusing that playful smile on you. An insistent nod finally gets you moving again. You dig your fingers into the bountiful backside, all former pretenses of only doing this because you have to forgotten. Maybe you didn’t want to be forced into this position, but you’re feeling rather good about where it’s ended up now. You find yourself wishing that you had more than two hands, because there’s definitely more than two handfuls of backside to work with here. Every tactic that you’ve employed in your massage up to now finds its way into your technique as you knead that flesh, mixing a squeeze or two in there for good measure. Celestia, for her part, seems incredibly pleased with the treatment, her tail idly swishing back and forth as she showers you with quiet praise.

Finally, after who knows how much time has passed, you stop rubbing, although you’re not quick to remove your hands from her. You bite your lip, just enjoying the feel of that rear in your hands, until another magical grasp gently lifts your hands and forces you to relinquish it.

“That...was heavenly,” Celestia says, her magic placing your hands back at your sides. You barely know what to do with them now that they’re not fondling that silky coat. “You really do know your way around a massage. Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You give her a look, pondering how to respond. Finally, you decide not to lie,

“Fiiiiine, I liked it,” you admit. Celestia beams in response. Then, with a degree of speed that you didn’t expect from a larger pony like herself, she’s rolled over onto her back, forelegs folded cutely over her chest. You gulp as you look upon the expanse of white that you’re surely intended to massage next. Your right hand lifts, almost of its own accord, in preparation to rub, but her magical grasp stops it.

“I won’t be upgrading you to belly rubs on the first day, Anon,” Celestia says sweetly. “Though I will be expecting that eventually.”

“Right,” you respond, grinning. If her back was that soft, you could only imagine how soft that belly will be. You start to get up, but her magical grasp stops you once more.

“Ah ah,” Celestia chides, suspending you in midair. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Uhh...back to sleep?” you respond.

“Indeed you are,” Celestia giggles. “But my personal masseuse has one last job. After the massage is done, the coat needs to be tested for softness.”

You’re suddenly pulled back into a laying position on the bed. Your face is rested on the princess’s chest, and it’s exactly as soft as you expected. Your right arm is gently pulled to drape over Celestia’s frame, and then both her left foreleg and wing wrap around you, holding you nice and close to her.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Celestia says quietly as she rests her chin atop your head. “But a masseuse tends to make for a delightful cuddle buddy. Besides, I could use a nap as well.”

With your cheek pressed against that amazingly soft coat, you can’t even dream of arguing. As you snuggle against the princess of the sun, you decide that maybe, just maybe, you might be okay with this arrangement. Maybe ancient Equestrian law isn’t so bad after all.