I am Anon, trying to unwind after a long week of applying for jobs. my spare change sold for a lot to various coin collectors, so I bought a house and still have a decent amount left over. But it's been shrinking with my daily expenses. It's not there weren't jobs for beings without cutie marks, or at least without applicable cutie marks. But I'm not exactly eager to be a hayburger flipper, housekeeper, or call center drone.
Caramel and Time Turner are true bros, but they can't really afford to hire a worker. What they can do is take me out for drinks, which is how I ended up in the Corn Hole. It's a decent bar, and their whiskey is pretty good. I still feel kinda ridiculous only wearing shorts and sandals, but it keeps the moral guardians happy. Silly backwards horses raise a fuss over the dumbest things.
Caramel grins at Time Turner.
"I hear a certain pegasus has been dropping by more often, has she asked you out yet?"
Turner blushes.
"Ditzy is a bit clumsy, she's just been breaking her alarm clock a lot recently. I'm sure she's not..."
Caramel doesn't say anything, but his grin gets more smug by the second. Time Turner scowls halfheartedly.
"Shut up."
Caramel shrugs.
"Didn't say anything."
I look at the clockmaker.
"You know, you could just ask her out yourself, skip all this waiting and worrying."
He slumps in his chair.
"I know, but... what if she really is just being clumsy?"
I raise an eyebrow.
"She's also a sweet and cute mare, from what I hear. Even if she does turn you down, she'll be nice about it."
Time Turner frowns, but doesn't have a reply. Caramel sighs.
"She really ought to be the one to take the first step, but Anon's right too. If you want her, get her. Or at least put on a scarf when she comes by, give her a little eye candy to tempt her."
Turner tilts his head.
"I do have that long scarf..."
I roll my eyes and knock back the rest of my drink.
"I'm going to go get a refill, want anything?"
The two stallions shake their heads. I get up and approach the bar.
"Another whiskey, please."
The barmare nods and grabs a bottle. While she pours, a light gray mare with a pale yellow short cropped mane sidles up to me.
"Hey there, handsome. You've got the foalchasing legs to be a great model, interested?"
I roll my eyes at the sleazy mare.
"Buzz off."
She hops up on the stool next to me and shakes her head with a lopsided smile.
"Don't be so quick on the draw, colt. Word around town is that you're looking for work, and I can always use new talent at my modeling agency. My name's Easy Money, and my talent is helping folks get bits quick. Here's my card."
I raise an eyebrow at her, but take the card and look at it.
[Easy's House of House Call Modeling]
[8675 Leonine Street, Ponyville]
"House call modeling?"
Easy nods.
"There's a lot of let's say, amateur artists, and it's hard for them to get a pony to pose for them, maybe put on a vest or something."
I give her a flat look.
"Look, is this like, an erotic dancing gig or full on prostitution?"
Her eyes go wide.
"No! Nononono, I'm a respectable businessmare, you pick out exactly what you are willing to put on beforehoof, and I got a tauress to go with you to keep the mares from taking liberties. You don't even have to put on socks if you don't want to."
I blink. That... doesn't sound that bad, actually. I pocket the card.
"I'll think about it."
With that, I go back to my table and nurse my drink. Caramel and Trner exchange a glance. Caramel coughs.
"Look, you don't want to be a dresser, there's more respectable jobs out there for you, I'm sure of it."
I shrug.
"I'm just thinking about it. What is so bad about it, so I have an idea of what I'd be getting into?"
Turner frowns.
"It's degrading, playing dress up for mares. And they like to stuff your pockets with bits to make them bulge obscenely."
I raise my eyebrows.
"Is that all?"
Caramel shifts uncomfortably.
"I knew a stallion who did it to pay his way through college. About half his marefriends broke up with him when they saw his sock collection."
I frown, thinking of my own sock drawer.
"I'll keep that in mind."
There clearly are costs to the job, but I think I can handle it. Besides, how bad can it be?
The next day found me walking downtown, eyeing the storefronts. Some of them are clearly holdovers from when Ponyville was just some backwater town down the tracks from Canterlot. Others have the polished crystal displays and automatic doors that remind me of home. Easy's House of House Call Modeling splits the difference; brick walls, wide front windows looking in on a minimalist lobby. The building itself has several floors, which is more than I was expecting for such a sketchy sounding business.
I open the door, a bell jingling to alert the stallion at the front desk. He adjusts his white collar and black bowtie and gives me his best professional smile.
"Welcome, how can I help you?"
I fish the card out of my pocket and show it to him.
"Easy offered me a modeling job?"
He looks me up and down and nods.
"I can see why. Wait just a sec, I'll call Stable Staple."
He taps a few buttons on the landline phone and holds the receiver to his ear and smiles faintly at me.
"I'm Holding Line, by the way."
I nod to him.
"Anonymous. Nice to meet you."
He opens his mouth to reply then pauses.
"Stabes, Boss pulled in some new blood named Anonymous. Er, minotaur, I guess?"
I clear my throat.
"Human, actually."
Holding raises his eyebrows.
"Says he's a human. Never heard about that variant, maybe the girls know more."
Holding Line shrugs and hangs up. He smiles at me.
"He'll be along in just a sec."
I nod, for lack of a better reply. True to his word, a door to the side of the front desk opens and a bright red unicorn stallion trots out, shaking his jaw-length silver mane. Stable pauses at the sight of me, shrugs, then jerks his head towards the door.
"Come on in, let's get you situated."
I follow him down a hallway into a locker room.
"We won't be sending you out the first day, got to see what fits you, teach you some moves, finagle a schedule, that sort of thing."
He pulls up by one of the open lockers and levitates the key from inside it to me.
"Keep track of this. We can make a copy if you lose it, and I have a master key if needed, but replacing it will come out of your wages."
I pocket the key.
"Got it."
Stable nods and heads towards the other door. It opens out into a large garage, a fleet of covered handcarts lined up in rows. Along the far wall is a milling crowd of female minotaurs, not a stitch of clothing among them. I can't help but stare. More than a few catch me looking, but they merely smile and wave. Stable clears his throat, eyeing me with a inscrutable expression.
"They're our security and transport personnel. You'll be assigned one for your first run, but it's up to you if you want to switch after that. They've been well trained, but you should still tell me immediately if one of them tries anything on you."
I swallow.
"Right, will do."
He shrugs, then leads me upstairs. The second floor is filled with racks of clothing and rolling bins. Stable looks me over with a frown.
"I'm not sure we have any tops or bottoms that fit you. Do you happen to have a wardrobe?"
I scratch my cheek.
"I have a decent amount of shirts, pants and socks, if that's what you mean."
He gives me a relieved smile.
"Perfect. Do bring those in as soon as you can, we'll need them for the promo photoshoot. Feel free to use the laundry facilities for your clothes, we've got the very best washers, dryers, and dry cleaners bits can buy."
I raise my eyebrows, but upon reflection it makes sense. Dressers probably have to take very good care of their clothes. Stable tours me through the laundry area, showers, break room, studio and so on. I pass by a fair few guys, mostly stallions with a few griffs, d-dogs, and a buffalo. It's all a bit overwhelming, which my guide seems to sense. Stable smiles wryly.
"It's about lunch time anyways, let's take a break."
I nod.
"Sounds good. Are there any good restaurants nearby? I forgot to bring lunch."
He shrugs.
"A few, Pan&Posies is a good floral sandwich shop, S-Tart has cheap pastries, but we also have a lot of cherries, cheese, and bread in the break room for anypony to eat."
As Stable enters the break room, he opens the fridge and cabinets with his magic. I expected loaves of bread and bricks of cheddar, but there's also bagels, rolls, pepperjack, smoked gouda...
"I can't imagine it would be cheap to stock all of this."
The manager smirks.
"The benefit of good customer relations. Work here long enough and you'll end up on one of the milk runs sooner or later."
I settle for a bagel, cream cheese, and a handful of cherries. Stable Staple grabs a bowl of salad and a cupcake from the fridge and sits down by a table. After a few bites, I have to ask.
"How'd you get into this business? I doubt it was a bar-side pickup."
Stable laughs.
"Close enough. I used to manage a troupe of actors, booking theaters, commissioning major props and backgrounds, all sorts of things."
He nibbles at the cupcake, a faraway look in his eyes.
"It was a lot of work, and we did some great performances."
I frown in concern.
"What happened?"
"Ulcers. Herding cats is a cakewalk compared to the rampant whimsy and narcissism of twelve stallions who are each convinced that they need to be the lead role just this once, just in case a scout is watching this performance, and maybe they should be allowed to wear socks even if the character never would... Keeping a lid on all of that was more stress than I could stomach."
I nod my head.
"I could see that. So that's when Easy came around?"
Stable smiles.
"Pretty much. See, she had been a regular, recruiting for this place. Then the Hearth's Warming play ended in a massive catfight on stage... So I was hitting the cider at the after party and Easy makes her pitch. She'd been lining up potential dressers, but she needed a male manager to make them feel safer about the whole business."
I shrug.
"She does have a pretty sketchy aura."
He nods.
"I've talked to her about that, but she insists that it's better they get suspicious first and get pleasantly surprised. Something about gap mow eh, whatever that is."
The two of us finish off our lunches as I think about what Stable said. At the end of the day, it still seems like a sketchy business, but male management does make it seem safer.
The next couple of days go by fast, practicing the moves, getting a crash course in what mares like to look at, and taking pictures of me in my various outfits. It seems they upload the photos to their horsenet site and the clients use them to select a model and theme. Speaking of, today is the day I finally start working.
Stable leads me to the covered cart I'll be riding in. A blue-grey tauress loads my suitcase into the cart bed and turns to me. Stable smiles.
"Anon, this is Cobalt Composure, she'll be your chauffeur for this run."
Cobalt nods towards me stoically. I nod back, trying and failing to not look at her chest. Stable pats my shoulder and wanders off. I laugh awkwardly.
"So, uh, nice to meet you."
She sighs.
"I would appreciate it if you did not stare. I know I am lacking, no need to rub it in."
I blink.
"Lacking? You've got a good two handfuls!"
Cobalt snorts.
"Maybe for your pygmy hands, but... ah, how big do cows of your kind get?"
I shrug.
"Not sure about the exact average, but probably somewhere between half and two thirds of your chest. Not to mention that you're bigger in general."
She raises her eyebrows.
"Truly? You really are a pygmy."
I roll my eyes and climb into the cart, Cobalt zipping up the back after me.
"I'm normal for a human, thank you very much."
She huffs in amusement and ducks under the spar of the handcart and starts pushing. I settle on my cushion as my ride eases forward. The cover of the cart is a bit like a cross between a camping tent and a jeep cover, with an open front and a canopy stretched out over Cobalt Composure. Passing ponies glance at me, scandalized, knowing, or curious. I feel jittery, looking forward to and dreading actually performing for customers. Before I know it, I'm talking again.
"Don't your tits get sore from bouncing around?"
Cobalt shrugs.
"If I'm running, sure. I can walk like this for hours without feeling it, though."
"Huh."
Maybe they have stronger ligaments or something? She coughs.
"You have a lot of clothes from your own wardrobe, have you dressed before?"
I scratch my cheek as the cart trundles onward.
"Not in the sense you're thinking of. Back home, clothing is a lot more common."
Cobalt quietly moos at that.
"I would like to see that, sometime."
I sigh.
"Me too. Once Twilight figures out how to portal back, I'll show you around."
She stumbles.
"Portal?"
The tauress stops and turns to look at me in wonder.
"Then you really are a human, from the land of salt and honey!"
I blink.
"Uh, Utah? No, I'm a human from Ohio, land of soybeans and corn."
Cobalt runs a hand through her short-cropped hair.
"I can't believe I am carrying the kin of the Allfather!"
She glances at my suitcase.
"Or that he would be a dresser, of all things."
I shrug.
"Man's gotta eat. Speaking of dressing, we should probably keep going. I don't want to be late for my first gig."
That seems to snap her out of it, and she grabs the bar and starts pushing the cart at a trot. Cobalt shakes her head and mutters to herself. For my part, I...feel alright, actually. Sure, there is some weird cultural stuff going on, but it's not something I have to worry about. Not much later, Cobalt comes to a stop by the Carousel Boutique, propping up the spars with a notched plank of wood.
Considering the client is Rarity, Stable is starting me off easy. Goodness knows she's seen me in all sorts of states of dress. Makes me wonder why she even paid for the service, but maybe it's a business thing with Easy Money. Cobalt unzips the back, grabs my suitcase, and gives me a hand down out of the cart. I follow her to the door and take a deep breath. Cobalt opens it with a jingle and takes a right.
I step through to find the shop floor cleared of marrequines and clothing racks. Instead, there's streamers, a cake on the table, Rarity approaching with a smile, Pinkie grinning, and Applejack facehoofing. Rarity kisses my hand while Cobalt start setting up.
"It's an absolute pleasure to see you again, Anonymous. We were just wishing Applejack a very happy birthday, shall we see if you can make that wish come true?"
I grin.
"I'll do what I can."
Applejack sighs.
"Ah shoulda known it'd end up like this."
I swagger up to her the way they taught me, slightly bow legged, the bulge in my shorts prominently displayed.
"I should thank you, Applejack."
Her eyes dart between my crotch and my face.
"And why is that?"
I run my hands down my chest and smooth out my shorts.
"I realize now that you were right, I shouldn't have been prancing around in public dressed to the nines."
I slip my hands in my pockets, visibly moving them towards my inner thigh.
"I should have been doing it in private, for very special mares."
She swallows, unable to look away from my crotch.
"Ah- that's-"
Pinkie whoops.
"That's right! Pet that trouser snake!"
I wink at her and whirl around, shimmying back towards Cobalt and the table with the three outfits I brought. I unfasten my shorts and let them drop. Rarity hums in appreciation for my boxers. I pick up the white dress shirt and turn around while the mares watch me with hungry eyes as I slip an arm into each sleeve. I roll my stomach in a sinuous motion as I button down from the top. Turning back around, I grab my black dress pants and step into them. I bend over as I pull them up, looking over my shoulder to wink at Applejack.
She swallows as she meets my gaze. I pick up my dress shoes and set them in front of a chair, which I then sit in with my legs wide open. I maintain eye contact with the apple matriarch as I zip up my pants. She licks her lips and I can see the cushion of her chair crumple under her forehooves. I close my legs and draw one up to my chest as I fish a sock from inside my shoe. The two earth ponies blush furiously as I slowly pull it onto my foot. Rarity merely leans forward with an interested expression. As I put on the rest of my suit, I am flattered to see that even she has a dusting of red on her cheeks. As I tie my tie, I affect an air of nonchalance.
"You know, my mother always insisted my father wear something like this to formal events."
Applejack dabs at her forehead with a handkerchief.
"That poor stallion..."
Pinkie shifts uncomfortably.
"Socks and all?"
I nod seriously. Rarity smirks.
"A mare's mare, no doubt."
I get up and swagger to her, smoothing down my tie.
"She used to joke that this way, she always had a leash on him. Wanna give it a tug?"
Rarity grins, her magic gently but firmly pulling my tie until my face is a scant inch from hers. I deliberately blow on her snout. Instantly, her magic fails and she rocks back in her chair, face cherry red. As I straighten, she doesn't meet my gaze, fanning herself.
"My my, Darling, but you are a deliciously naughty colt, aren't you?"
I boop her.
"Guilty as charged."
I head back to Cobalt and shuck off my coat and tie. She hangs them up as I pick up the apron and pass the loop over my head. I saunter over to Pinkie Pie, an innocent smile on my face.
"Say, could you tie this for me? It's so hard to reach back there."
She nods vigorously.
"Hehe, sure thing! Back those buns my way and let Mama Pinkie show you how it's done~"
I obligingly turn around and back up into her personal space. She makes a perverted giggle as I feel the straps of my apron tighten around my midsection.
"Mmm, nice and tight, just how I like my mares."
Pinkie shivers a little in anticipation.
"All done! Now give mama some sugar!"
I chuckle.
"Of course."
I bump my butt against her chest, gently knocking her back and shifting her posture in just the right way. I lower my butt and feel two soft, warm mounds press against it. Pinkie squeaks. I gyrate my rump on her lap, squishing, rubbing, and brushing her teats.
"Anon, wait-"
I ignore her, grinning at the hardening nubs I can feel dragging against the smooth fabric of my pants. Pinkie squirms, her voice an octave higher.
"Anon, those are my nips!"
I give her a few more gyrations, then I turn around and kneel in front of her.
"Oh, that's what that was? I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? Let me kiss it better."
Ponka stares at me, her chest heaving and her chair glistening between her legs. I lean down and kiss her right nipple, letting my lips linger on it, then her left, ending with a slight bit of suction. She moans, her hips bucking instinctively. I smile up at her.
"Is that better?"
She bites her lip, then pants out a faint, "Yeppers."
I rise to my feet and head back to Cobalt for the last time, stripping down to my socks and boxers. I put on a bit of a show as I change into shorts and a polo shirt, but they're not the key to my grand finale. I turn and face the thoroughly hot and bothered mares. Then slip my sock-covered feet into my sandals.
Rarity slowly begins to scrunch. Pinkie Pie tilts her head. But Applejack, she just stares at me like she just achieved nirvana. I put on sunglasses and crack open a can of cider. I take a long slurp as I approach the birthday mare. Meanwhile, Rarity is starting to have a fit.
"Nononono, socks DO NOT go with sandals! Darling, you need to change into something more erotic, not-"
I tune her out as I straddle Applejack's lap. She bites her lip, her hooves settling on my hips.
"Anon, Ah-"
I take another slurp of cider as I start grinding my erection against her belly. Her eyes glaze over, her hips instinctively bucking and roiling under me.
"Oh mah stars, Anon-"
I lean down and whisper in her ear.
"Haha, fashion horse go brrrrrr."
Applejack convulses and cries out, "Muh appuls!"
I ride out her orgasm, then tip back her hat to lay a smooch on her forehead. I get up and sashay out the door, Cobalt already packing up. I lean against the wagon and breath in the cool night air.
That was a rush! The feeling of having those mares at my mercy, trembling and aching at my touch~ Not to mention the satisfaction of reducing Applejack to a drooling mess after all the times she lectured me about modesty. To be fair, she was right about me being a "stallion of loose morals". As I come down from my excitement, I feel my belly and leg muscles ache a little. All that twerking and grinding is harder work than I thought.
...
What's taking Cobalt so long? About ten minutes later, she finally emerges from the boutique, carrying my suitcase and a bag of bits that looks like an overstuffed pillowcase. I take a few nervous steps forward.
"So, uh, how did I do?"
Cobalt Composure looks at me in mild consternation.
" 'How did I do', he says."
She heaves her burdens into the cart and turns to me. I smile weakly. She runs a hand through her short-cropped hair and sighs.
"First things first, that amount of contact with clients is... excessive."
I rub my cheek nervously.
"Will I get in trouble for that?"
Cobalt shakes her head.
"It's not illegal, exactly, but Easy, Stable, and everypony else who has authority over you has to be able to testify under truth serum that we didn't encourage you in any way to touch mares inappropriately."
I blink.
"Oh."
She snorts.
"It also makes my job harder, when mares take it as an invitation to cross lines too. So, I would appreciate it if you didn't."
I nod seriously.
"Understood. Aside from that..."
Cobalt smacks the sack of bits.
"Second, give the mares opportunities to slip bits into your pockets. That means slowing down your routine and not blowing their minds with your lewd whimsy. There have been dressers who rushed through the show and got almost no tips whatsoever. You're lucky the mares tonight were wealthy and happy."
Looks like two wrongs made a right this time, but that's not the sort of thing I should repeat.
"Won't let it happen again."
She looks me in the eye for a long moment, then nods in acknowledgment.
"Third... you're a moon-banished natural at this, most rookies can't even manage dirty talk, let alone lap dances."
I grin.
"Really?"
Cobalt bites her lip and shivers.
"You put on quite a show, Anon. Puts a new perspective on some of the writings of the Allmother."
I climb into the wagon with a happy chuckle.
"Glad I could bring religious enlightenment to you."
She grumbles under her breath as she ducks under the spars of the wagon. my chauffeur grabs the notched plank and puts it away, then heaves on the pull bar. The cart rolls forward into the night. I can't help but notice a glistening between Cobalt's legs as the moonlight shines upon her. All things considered, I didn't think I'd find my calling as a dresser, but I doubt I could have so much fun in any other job.
...
I really want to make this stoic tauress moo out loud. Just, get up all in her business and coax a nice reaction out of her. In retrospect, getting all hot and bothered myself on the job was a mistake. I growl in frustration. First things first, when I get back, I'll have to check the policy on workplace romances and whatnot. Until then, I'll just have to content myself with staring at her sweet ass.
...
First things first, I'll relieve my boner in a bathroom stall, then look up policy. Ugh, I love this job and I hate it.
I am Cobalt Composure, and I am practically bathing in the scent of human arousal. I want to moo so bad, but I am a professional. I will get my charge to the agency, deposit his earnings, help hang up his clothes, walk him home, and then and only then will I lay my hands upon him and moo until he can hear nothing else. Ugh, I love this job and I hate it.
Author's Note
A special thanks to BonusPoints for commissioning this story.
You are Anon, trying to unwind after a long week of applying for jobs. Your spare change sold for a lot to various coin collectors, so you bought a house and still have a decent amount left over. But it's been shrinking with your daily expenses. It's not there weren't jobs for beings without cutie marks, or at least without applicable cutie marks. But you aren't exactly eager to be a hayburger flipper, housekeeper, or call center drone.
Caramel and Time Turner are true bros, but they can't really afford to hire a worker. What they can do is take you out for drinks, which is how you ended up in the Corn Hole. It's a decent bar, and their whiskey is pretty good. You still feel kinda ridiculous only wearing shorts and sandals, but it keeps the moral guardians happy. Silly backwards horses raise a fuss over the dumbest things.
Caramel grins at Time Turner.
"I hear a certain pegasus has been dropping by more often, has she asked you out yet?"
Turner blushes.
"Ditzy is a bit clumsy, she's just been breaking her alarm clock a lot recently. I'm sure she's not..."
Caramel doesn't say anything, but his grin gets more smug by the second. Time Turner scowls halfheartedly.
"Shut up."
Caramel shrugs.
"Didn't say anything."
You look at the clockmaker.
"You know, you could just ask her out yourself, skip all this waiting and worrying."
He slumps in his chair.
"I know, but... what if she really is just being clumsy?"
You raise an eyebrow.
"She's also a sweet and cute mare, from what I hear. Even if she does turn you down, she'll be nice about it."
Time Turner frowns, but doesn't have a reply. Caramel sighs.
"She really ought to be the one to take the first step, but Anon's right too. If you want her, get her. Or at least put on a scarf when she comes by, give her a little eye candy to tempt her."
Turner tilts his head.
"I do have that long scarf..."
You roll your eyes and knock back the rest of your drink.
"I'm going to go get a refill, want anything?"
The two stallions shake their heads. You get up and approach the bar.
"Another whiskey, please."
The barmare nods and grabs a bottle. While she pours, a light gray mare with a pale yellow short cropped mane sidles up to you.
"Hey there, handsome. You've got the foalchasing legs to be a great model, interested?"
You roll your eyes at the sleazy mare.
"Buzz off."
She hops up on the stool next to you and shakes her head with a lopsided smile.
"Don't be so quick on the draw, colt. Word around town is that you're looking for work, and I can always use new talent at my modeling agency. My name's Easy Money, and my talent is helping folks get bits quick. Here's my card."
You raise an eyebrow at her, but take the card and look at it.
[Easy's House of House Call Modeling]
[8675 Leonine Street, Ponyville]
"House call modeling?"
Easy nods.
"There's a lot of let's say, amateur artists, and it's hard for them to get a pony to pose for them, maybe put on a vest or something."
You give her a flat look.
"Look, is this like, an erotic dancing gig or full on prostitution?"
Her eyes go wide.
"No! Nononono, I'm a respectable businessmare, you pick out exactly what you are willing to put on beforehoof, and I got a tauress to go with you to keep the mares from taking liberties. You don't even have to put on socks if you don't want to."
You blink. That... doesn't sound that bad, actually. You pocket the card.
"I'll think about it."
With that, you go back to your table and nurse your drink. Caramel and Turner exchange a glance. Caramel coughs.
"Look, you don't want to be a dresser, there's more respectable jobs out there for you, I'm sure of it."
You shrug.
"I'm just thinking about it. What is so bad about it, so I have an idea of what I'd be getting into?"
Turner frowns.
"It's degrading, playing dress up for mares. And they like to stuff your pockets with bits to make them bulge obscenely."
You raise your eyebrows.
"Is that all?"
Caramel shifts uncomfortably.
"I knew a stallion who did it to pay his way through college. About half his marefriends broke up with him when they saw his sock collection."
You frown, thinking of your own sock drawer.
"I'll keep that in mind."
There clearly are costs to the job, but you think you can handle it. Besides, how bad can it be?
The next day found you walking downtown, eyeing the storefronts. Some of them are clearly holdovers from when Ponyville was just some backwater town down the tracks from Canterlot. Others have the polished crystal displays and automatic doors that remind you of home. Easy's House of House Call Modeling splits the difference; brick walls, wide front windows looking in on a minimalist lobby. The building itself has several floors, which is more than you were expecting for such a sketchy sounding business.
You open the door, a bell jingling to alert the stallion at the front desk. He adjusts his white collar and black bowtie and gives you his best professional smile.
"Welcome, how can I help you?"
You fish the card out of your pocket and show it to him.
"Easy offered me a modeling job?"
He looks you up and down and nods.
"I can see why. Wait just a sec, I'll call Stable Staple."
He taps a few buttons on the landline phone and holds the receiver to his ear and smiles faintly at you.
"I'm Holding Line, by the way."
You nod to him.
"Anonymous. Nice to meet you."
He opens his mouth to reply then pauses.
"Stabes, Boss pulled in some new blood named Anonymous. Er, minotaur, I guess?"
You clear your throat.
"Human, actually."
Holding raises his eyebrows.
"Says he's a human. Never heard about that variant, maybe the girls know more."
Holding Line shrugs and hangs up. He smiles at you.
"He'll be along in just a sec."
You nod, for lack of a better reply. True to his word, a door to the side of the front desk opens and a bright red unicorn stallion trots out, shaking his jaw-length silver mane. Stable pauses at the sight of you, shrugs, then jerks his head towards the door.
"Come on in, let's get you situated."
You follow him down a hallway into a locker room.
"We won't be sending you out the first day, got to see what fits you, teach you some moves, finagle a schedule, that sort of thing."
He pulls up by one of the open lockers and levitates the key from inside it to you.
"Keep track of this. We can make a copy if you lose it, and I have a master key if needed, but replacing it will come out of your wages."
You pocket the key.
"Got it."
Stable nods and heads towards the other door. It opens out into a large garage, a fleet of covered handcarts lined up in rows. Along the far wall is a milling crowd of female minotaurs, not a stitch of clothing among them. You can't help but stare. More than a few catch you looking, but they merely smile and wave. Stable clears his throat, eyeing you with a inscrutable expression.
"They're our security and transport personnel. You'll be assigned one for your first run, but it's up to you if you want to switch after that. They've been well trained, but you should still tell me immediately if one of them tries anything on you."
You swallow.
"Right, will do."
He shrugs, then leads you upstairs. The second floor is filled with racks of clothing and rolling bins. Stable looks you over with a frown.
"I'm not sure we have any tops or bottoms that fit you. Do you happen to have a wardrobe?"
You scratch your cheek.
"I have a decent amount of shirts, pants and socks, if that's what you mean."
He gives you a relieved smile.
"Perfect. Do bring those in as soon as you can, we'll need them for the promo photoshoot. Feel free to use the laundry facilities for your clothes, we've got the very best washers, dryers, and dry cleaners bits can buy."
You raise your eyebrows, but upon reflection it makes sense. Dressers probably have to take very good care of their clothes. Stable tours you through the laundry area, showers, break room, studio and so on. You pass by a fair few guys, mostly stallions with a few griffs, d-dogs, and a buffalo. It's all a bit overwhelming, which your guide seems to sense. Stable smiles wryly.
"It's about lunch time anyways, let's take a break."
You nod.
"Sounds good. Are there any good restaurants nearby? I forgot to bring lunch."
He shrugs.
"A few, Pan&Posies is a good floral sandwich shop, S-Tart has cheap pastries, but we also have a lot of cherries, cheese, and bread in the break room for anypony to eat."
As Stable enters the break room, he opens the fridge and cabinets with his magic. You expected loaves of bread and bricks of cheddar, but there's also bagels, rolls, pepperjack, smoked gouda...
"I can't imagine it would be cheap to stock all of this."
The manager smirks.
"The benefit of good customer relations. Work here long enough and you'll end up on one of the milk runs sooner or later."
You settle for a bagel, cream cheese, and a handful of cherries. Stable Staple grabs a bowl of salad and a cupcake from the fridge and sits down by a table. After a few bites, you have to ask.
"How'd you get into this business? I doubt it was a bar-side pickup."
Stable laughs.
"Close enough. I used to manage a troupe of actors, booking theaters, commissioning major props and backgrounds, all sorts of things."
He nibbles at the cupcake, a faraway look in his eyes.
"It was a lot of work, and we did some great performances."
You frown in concern.
"What happened?"
"Ulcers. Herding cats is a cakewalk compared to the rampant whimsy and narcissism of twelve stallions who are each convinced that they need to be the lead role just this once, just in case a scout is watching this performance, and maybe they should be allowed to wear socks even if the character never would... Keeping a lid on all of that was more stress than I could stomach."
You nod your head.
"I could see that. So that's when Easy came around?"
Stable smiles.
"Pretty much. See, she had been a regular, recruiting for this place. Then the Hearth's Warming play ended in a massive catfight on stage... So I was hitting the cider at the after party and Easy makes her pitch. She'd been lining up potential dressers, but she needed a male manager to make them feel safer about the whole business."
You shrug.
"She does have a pretty sketchy aura."
He nods.
"I've talked to her about that, but she insists that it's better they get suspicious first and get pleasantly surprised. Something about gap mow eh, whatever that is."
The two of you finish off your lunches as you think about what Stable said. At the end of the day, it still seems like a sketchy business, but male management does make it seem safer.
The next couple of days go by fast, practicing the moves, getting a crash course in what mares like to look at, and taking pictures of you in your various outfits. It seems they upload the photos to their horsenet site and the clients use them to select a model and theme. Speaking of, today is the day you finally start working.
Stable leads you to the covered cart you'll be riding in. A blue-grey tauress loads your suitcase into the cart bed and turns to you. Stable smiles.
"Anon, this is Cobalt Composure, she'll be your chauffeur for this run."
Cobalt nods towards you stoically. You nod back, trying and failing to not look at her chest. Stable pats your shoulder and wanders off. You laugh awkwardly.
"So, uh, nice to meet you."
She sighs.
"I would appreciate it if you did not stare. I know I am lacking, no need to rub it in."
You blink.
"Lacking? You've got a good two handfuls!"
Cobalt snorts.
"Maybe for your pygmy hands, but... ah, how big do cows of your kind get?"
You shrug.
"Not sure about the exact average, but probably somewhere between half and two thirds of your chest. Not to mention that you're bigger in general."
She raises her eyebrows.
"Truly? You really are a pygmy."
You roll your eyes and climb into the cart, Cobalt zipping up the back after you.
"I'm normal for a human, thank you very much."
She huffs in amusement and ducks under the spar of the handcart and starts pushing. You settle on your cushion as your ride eases forward. The cover of the cart is a bit like a cross between a camping tent and a jeep cover, with an open front and a canopy stretched out over Cobalt Composure. Passing ponies glance at you, scandalized, knowing, or curious. You feel jittery, looking forward to and dreading actually performing for customers. Before you know it, you're talking again.
"Don't your tits get sore from bouncing around?"
Cobalt shrugs.
"If I'm running, sure. I can walk like this for hours without feeling it, though."
"Huh."
Maybe they have stronger ligaments or something? She coughs.
"You have a lot of clothes from your own wardrobe, have you dressed before?"
You scratch your cheek as the cart trundles onward.
"Not in the sense you're thinking of. Back home, clothing is a lot more common."
Cobalt quietly moos at that.
"I would like to see that, sometime."
You sigh.
"Me too. Once Twilight figures out how to portal back, I'll show you around."
She stumbles.
"Portal?"
The tauress stops and turns to look at you in wonder.
"Then you really are a human, from the land of salt and honey!"
You blink.
"Uh, Utah? No, I'm a human from Ohio, land of soybeans and corn."
Cobalt runs a hand through her short-cropped hair.
"I can't believe I am carrying the kin of the Allfather!"
She glances at your suitcase.
"Or that he would be a dresser, of all things."
You shrug.
"Man's gotta eat. Speaking of dressing, we should probably keep going. I don't want to be late for my first gig."
That seems to snap her out of it, and she grabs the bar and starts pushing the cart at a trot. Cobalt shakes her head and mutters to herself. For your part, you...feel alright, actually. Sure, there is some weird cultural stuff going on, but it's not something you have to worry about. Not much later, Cobalt comes to a stop by the Carousel Boutique, propping up the spars with a notched plank of wood.
Considering the client is Rarity, Stable is starting you off easy. Goodness knows she's seen you in all sorts of states of dress. Makes you wonder why she even paid for the service, but maybe it's a business thing with Easy Money. Cobalt unzips the back, grabs your suitcase, and gives you a hand down out of the cart. You follow her to the door and take a deep breath. Cobalt opens it with a jingle and takes a right.
You step through to find the shop floor cleared of marrequines and clothing racks. Instead, there's streamers, a cake on the table, Rarity approaching with a smile, Pinkie grinning, and Applejack facehoofing. Rarity kisses your hand while Cobalt start setting up.
"It's an absolute pleasure to see you again, Anonymous. We were just wishing Applejack a very happy birthday, shall we see if you can make that wish come true?"
You grin.
"I'll do what I can."
Applejack sighs.
"Ah shoulda known it'd end up like this."
You swagger up to her the way they taught you, slightly bow legged, the bulge in your shorts prominently displayed.
"I should thank you, Applejack."
Her eyes dart between your crotch and your face.
"And why is that?"
You run your hands down your chest and smooth out your shorts.
"I realize now that you were right, I shouldn't have been prancing around in public dressed to the nines."
You slip your hands in your pockets, visibly moving them towards your inner thigh.
"I should have been doing it in private, for very special mares."
She swallows, unable to look away from your crotch.
"Ah- that's-"
Pinkie whoops.
"That's right! Pet that trouser snake!"
You wink at her and whirl around, shimmying back towards Cobalt and the table with the three outfits you brought. You unfasten your shorts and let them drop. Rarity hums in appreciation for your boxers. You pick up the white dress shirt and turn around while the mares watch you with hungry eyes as you slip an arm into each sleeve. You roll your stomach in a sinuous motion as you button down from the top. Turning back around, you grab your black dress pants and step into them. You bend over as you pull them up, looking over your shoulder to wink at Applejack.
She swallows as she meets your gaze. You pick up your dress shoes and set them in front of a chair, which you then sit in with your legs wide open. You maintain eye contact with the apple matriarch as you zip up your pants. She licks her lips and you can see the cushion of her chair crumple under her forehooves. You close your legs and draw one up to your chest as you fish a sock from inside your shoe. The two earth ponies blush furiously as you slowly pull it onto your foot. Rarity merely leans forward with an interested expression. As you put on the rest of your suit, you are flattered to see that even she has a dusting of red on her cheeks. As you tie your tie, you affect an air of nonchalance.
"You know, my mother always insisted my father wear something like this to formal events."
Applejack dabs at her forehead with a handkerchief.
"That poor stallion..."
Pinkie shifts uncomfortably.
"Socks and all?"
You nod seriously. Rarity smirks.
"A mare's mare, no doubt."
You get up and swagger to her, smoothing down your tie.
"She used to joke that this way, she always had a leash on him. Wanna give it a tug?"
Rarity grins, her magic gently but firmly pulling your tie until your face is a scant inch from hers. You deliberately blow on her snout. Instantly, her magic fails and she rocks back in her chair, face cherry red. As you straighten, she doesn't meet your gaze, fanning herself.
"My my, Darling, but you are a deliciously naughty colt, aren't you?"
You boop her.
"Guilty as charged."
You head back to Cobalt and shuck off your coat and tie. She hangs them up as you pick up the apron and pass the loop over your head. You saunter over to Pinkie Pie, an innocent smile on your face.
"Say, could you tie this for me? It's so hard to reach back there."
She nods vigorously.
"Hehe, sure thing! Back those buns my way and let Mama Pinkie show you how it's done~"
You obligingly turn around and back up into her personal space. She makes a perverted giggle as you feel the straps of your apron tighten around your midsection.
"Mmm, nice and tight, just how I like my mares."
Pinkie shivers a little in anticipation.
"All done! Now give mama some sugar!"
You chuckle.
"Of course."
You bump your butt against her chest, gently knocking her back and shifting her posture in just the right way. You lower your butt and feel two soft, warm mounds press against it. Pinkie squeaks. You gyrate your rump on her lap, squishing, rubbing, and brushing her teats.
"Anon, wait-"
You ignore her, grinning at the hardening nubs you can feel dragging against the smooth fabric of your pants. Pinkie squirms, her voice an octave higher.
"Anon, those are my nips!"
You give her a few more gyrations, then you turn around and kneel in front of her.
"Oh, that's what that was? I'm so sorry, did I hurt you? Let me kiss it better."
Ponka stares at you, her chest heaving and her chair glistening between her legs. You lean down and kiss her right nipple, letting your lips linger on it, then her left, ending with a slight bit of suction. She moans, her hips bucking instinctively. You smile up at her.
"Is that better?"
She bites her lip, then pants out a faint, "Yeppers."
You rise to your feet and head back to Cobalt for the last time, stripping down to your socks and boxers. You put on a bit of a show as you change into shorts and a polo shirt, but they're not the key to your grand finale. You turn and face the thoroughly hot and bothered mares. Then slip your sock-covered feet into your sandals.
Rarity slowly begins to scrunch. Pinkie Pie tilts her head. But Applejack, she just stares at you like she just achieved nirvana. You put on sunglasses and crack open a can of cider. You take a long slurp as you approach the birthday mare. Meanwhile, Rarity is starting to have a fit.
"Nononono, socks DO NOT go with sandals! Darling, you need to change into something more erotic, not-"
You tune her out as you straddle Applejack's lap. She bites her lip, her hooves settling on your hips.
"Anon, Ah-"
You take another slurp of cider as you start grinding your erection against her belly. Her eyes glaze over, her hips instinctively bucking and roiling under you.
"Oh mah stars, Anon-"
You lean down and whisper in her ear.
"Haha, fashion horse go brrrrrr."
Applejack convulses and cries out, "Muh appuls!"
You ride out her orgasm, then tip back her hat to lay a smooch on her forehead. You get up and sashay out the door, Cobalt already packing up. You lean against the wagon and breath in the cool night air.
That was a rush! The feeling of having those mares at your mercy, trembling and aching at your touch~ Not to mention the satisfaction of reducing Applejack to a drooling mess after all the times she lectured you about modesty. To be fair, she was right about you being a "stallion of loose morals". As you come down from your excitement, you feel your belly and leg muscles ache a little. All that twerking and grinding is harder work than you thought.
...
What's taking Cobalt so long? About ten minutes later, she finally emerges from the boutique, carrying your suitcase and a bag of bits that looks like an overstuffed pillowcase. You take a few nervous steps forward.
"So, uh, how did I do?"
Cobalt Composure looks at you in mild consternation.
" 'How did I do', he says."
She heaves her burdens into the cart and turns to you. You smile weakly. She runs a hand through her short-cropped hair and sighs.
"First things first, that amount of contact with clients is... excessive."
You rub your cheek nervously.
"Will I get in trouble for that?"
Cobalt shakes her head.
"It's not illegal, exactly, but Easy, Stable, and everypony else who has authority over you has to be able to testify under truth serum that we didn't encourage you in any way to touch mares inappropriately."
You blink.
"Oh."
She snorts.
"It also makes my job harder, when mares take it as an invitation to cross lines too. So, I would appreciate it if you didn't."
You nod seriously.
"Understood. Aside from that..."
Cobalt smacks the sack of bits.
"Second, give the mares opportunities to slip bits into your pockets. That means slowing down your routine and not blowing their minds with your lewd whimsy. There have been dressers who rushed through the show and got almost no tips whatsoever. You're lucky the mares tonight were wealthy and happy."
Looks like two wrongs made a right this time, but that's not the sort of thing you should repeat.
"Won't let it happen again."
She looks you in the eye for a long moment, then nods in acknowledgment.
"Third... you're a moon-banished natural at this, most rookies can't even manage dirty talk, let alone lap dances."
You grin.
"Really?"
Cobalt bites her lip and shivers.
"You put on quite a show, Anon. Puts a new perspective on some of the writings of the Allmother."
You climb into the wagon with a happy chuckle.
"Glad I could bring religious enlightenment to you."
She grumbles under her breath as she ducks under the spars of the wagon. Your chauffeur grabs the notched plank and puts it away, then heaves on the pull bar. The cart rolls forward into the night. You can't help but notice a glistening between Cobalt's legs as the moonlight shines upon her. All things considered, you didn't think you'd find your calling as a dresser, but you doubt you could have so much fun in any other job.
...
You really want to make this stoic tauress moo out loud. Just, get up all in her business and coax a nice reaction out of her. In retrospect, getting all hot and bothered yourself on the job was a mistake. You growl in frustration. First things first, when you get back, you'll have to check the policy on workplace romances and whatnot. Until then, you'll just have to content yourself with staring at her sweet ass.
...
First things first, you'll relieve your boner in a bathroom stall, then look up policy. Ugh, you love this job and you hate it.
You are Cobalt Composure, and you are practically bathing in the scent of human arousal. You want to moo so bad, but you are a professional. You will get your charge to the agency, deposit his earnings, help hang up his clothes, walk him home, and then and only then will you lay your hands upon him and moo until he can hear nothing else. Ugh, you love this job and you hate it.
Author's Note
A special thanks to BonusPoints for commissioning this story.
