Stock Imagery

Rarity swirled her champagne glass and moved alongside Pinkie Pie, who in addition to the black beret and turtleneck, now wore thick square-rimmed glasses and had her mane pulled back in a loose ponytail. Rarity’s eyes never left the stockade in the center of the viewing room.

For now it was just them, alone. But the exhibit would open soon, and after that… Rarity was still deciding whether she wanted to be seen here. Which was entirely the point, wasn’t it?

Pinkie was a ball of nervous energy. She was waiting for Rarity to say something first.

“Twilight really outdid herself, didn’t she.”

Pinkie twirled the edge of her ponytail. “Just between you and me. I think we both prefer it if I take all the credit.” Pinkie smirked, which is how she thought Real Artists laughed. “What do you think?”

“I thought it was a joke.” Rarity said bluntly, and sipped from her champagne flute. She’d brought it from home. No free food or drinks, except for participants. But what was an art viewing without champagne? “But, now that I actually experience it…”

“Yes?” Pinkie leaned in with baited breath.

Rarity exhaled, releasing some of the tightness in her own chest. “It’s challenging, it’s confronting, it’s at once simple and complex. It evokes a strong emotional response, and it forces its audience to experience those emotions that might otherwise be repressed or unobserved. The social element is unique and inspired. There are many definitions for art, and this seems to meet every one of them.”

Pinkie let out her own sigh of relief she’d been holding in. “Thanks, Rares. I was scared everyone would think I’m just horny.”

“Thus the ensemble?”

“Yeah!” Pinkie smiled before she could remember she was supposed to smirk. “I mean, I’m not not horny, but I really thought it was a good idea. And nobody else was going to do this. I just want it taken seriously.”

“Oh?” Rarity swirled her glass again, took a pointed sip.

“It’s just…” Pinkie struggled for words. “I wanted to make a rollercoaster. A fun way to do something really scary, because scary can be fun too. Or not a rollercoaster, because I don’t think anybody’s going to really ride it, but that’s not the point.”

“A zoo exhibit then.” Rarity suggested. Certainly, even with the smiley face on the display, it had all the menace of a coiled tiger ready to pounce. “Where the only cage between us is the one we make for ourselves.”

“Yes!” Pinkie danced on the spot, vibrating with excitement. “Do you mind if I steal that? I want to say that the next time someone asks.”

“By all means. I’m flattered you would want to.” Rarity considered the full implication of the request, though. “You really think you’ll get an audience, even if they know they’ll be seen?”

Pinkie snorted. “Yeah, ‘course I do. That’s the rollercoaster bit. But that’s why no disguises, right? Everyone coming in here’s got to know they can only judge as much as they’re going to get judged. Nobody’s allowed to kill the mood.”

“I had wondered about that one.” Rarity admitted. Surely, somebody would be far more likely to actually use the exhibit if they knew they could do it anonymously. But to do so would be to acknowledge that the act was, in some way, embarrassing or shameful.

“I’m so happy you’re thinking about this,” Pinkie beamed, as she dropped her artist’s pretense and silently urged Rarity to elaborate.

“I suppose that is the line between this being art rather than indulgence. If one can only participate in the exhibit openly, without shame, then it forces one to interrogate one’s own feelings of shame, rather than elide them.”

“Elide?”

“I mean, create a situation where they can be ignored.”

“Oh! Yeah! And? And?”

Rarity smiled. The stockade was looking less and less like a coiled tiger by the second. Pinkie’s enthusiasm for it was contagious. “And hiding implies that others should wish to as well. An implication that would spoil the effect.”

“Ha! Yes! Exactly! Yes!” Pinkie was vibrating like a rocket on a launchpad, ready to explode. “I’m so glad this makes sense outside my head. I know it’s going to disappoint a lot of folk, but if somebody would do it incognito but only then, then I think making that obvious is more important than actually getting anyone to use the stocks, you know?”

Rarity nodded. Of course it was obvious why there was an appeal in the disguise. To know without being known, as it were. Otherwise, it would make for a vicious rumour, wouldn’t it? ‘Didn’t you hear? They locked themselves in a stockade, they wanted to-’

But why was that vicious? Why was that shameful? It was not enough to not feel ashamed for yourself. There were consequences of others feeling that you should be. Real consequences, irrelevant to how you felt about it.

Rarity walked closer to the stockade, and wondered aloud. “It’s silly, isn’t it?”

“What’s silly?”

“To say it would be harmless fun would be to miss an important point, because it reduces the act to the individual. It’s- how do I say this without being crass?”

“It’s a big wooden lock that says ‘Fuck Me!’ on it,” Pinkie snorted, “I’m okay with crass.”

“I take your point. All pleasure from the fantasy involves the pleasure of others. The enjoyment from this is entirely social in nature, isn’t it? The thrill of the stocks is in the public nature of them, not just the bondage itself. Self-denial prevents others from sharing in your fantasy.”

“Right.”

“But it is the public shame that prevents free participation in the fantasy.”

“Right?” Pinkie agreed, again urging Rarity to continue.

Rarity had begun circling the stocks now. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind which way she’d want it facing. The mirror, clearly. Not just because she’d want to know who was with her - though that would be more fun than not knowing - but because, she thought, how important it would be to see herself as she is seen in that moment?

She shivered happily, which surprised her to learn about herself. Pinkie raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything, just gestured for Rarity to continue.

“It’s an infuriating contradiction, isn’t it? It is the public nature that makes the fantasy so enticing, and the reality so terrifying. The two are inseparable.”

Pinkie sighed. Her excitement had given way to moroseness that didn’t suit her. “I mean, yeah. It’s why I’m going to try so hard to look like a real artist, I guess. Personally? I think it’d be fine if I just wanted this to happen ‘cause I was horny. Who cares, right?”

“Not a rhetorical question. Someone always does.”

“Maybe it’d just be nice to let everyone know how much other people think about this stuff too.” Pinkie snickered. “Not everyone does, but just. It makes it less scary to talk about.”

Rarity nodded. “You know, I was thinking about ‘dipping out’ before anyone else would come in. But I think that would be disrespectful to your intent.”

Pinkie straightened herself again. “You’re going to stick around?”

Standing this close to the stockades, now, Rarity could watch herself swirl her champagne. Just a tilt of her head, the right perspective, and she could see how she’d look in them without having to commit. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been caught trying on outfits she couldn’t afford.

“Yes, I think so.”

Usually only two or three would come in at a time. Ponyville’s newfound diversity brought in all sorts. Griffons, hippogriff, zebra, reformed changelings. ‘Ponies’ increasingly felt like an inadequate term of general address.

Which Rarity liked a lot, actually. She had already spotted a very cute hippogriff trying to pretend she wasn’t really there, the only one that had so far dared coming in on her own, Rarity noticed.

To come with a friend would be to be curious in the right way. To be here by yourself, why, others might suspect things.

“Funny, isn’t it?” Rarity wondered to herself.

Pinkie furrowed her brow. “What’s funny?”

“I’d have assumed loners would be the norm, not the exception.”

Pinkie shrugged. “Maybe they’re worried if they’re by themselves, they’ll look creepy.”

Rarity had made her own plans to stick close to Pinkie, to support her, to celebrate her success with her. Perhaps this was a better way to do it. “I might go wander around, then, and set a positive example. You’ll have fun without me, I’ll trust?”

Pinkie’s eyes sparkled. “Never as much.”

Rarity slipped away at that, and wandered the room, inspecting the tables. Yes, these definitely had Twilight’s meticulousness written all over it. There was a curious giddiness to seeing a display of vibrators lined up like a lepidoptera display. Just, instead of butterflies, it was a taxonomically rigorous catering of sex toys.

She had to admit, she liked the effect of it. If described to her in abstract, she’d have thought it clinical, sterile. Seeing it, though, it simply felt… thoughtful, non-judgemental. Much like Twilight herself, perhaps.

She’d have to mention it to Twilight later, if either of them could stand the conversation. Rarity wasn’t sure she’d manage to bring it up. But by being so rigorous about the realities, she had presented a way this could be seen as normal, by following a social code.

That was the thing about foibles and etiquette. Social norms were arbitrary and abstract. So much of the hazard was being aware that there was a line and that you weren’t sure where it was until you crossed it. Twilight had done her best to draw that line as clearly as she was able, in tantalizing neon lines. And those boundaries were much further out than most suspected.

Further than Rarity herself had suspected.

And there Rarity was at the far reaches. Openly looking at sex toys with interest, all on her own. Unashamed she would be seen to be doing so.

That wasn’t quite right though, was it?

There was a thrill of nervousness. She was hyper-aware of herself in this moment. That she was seen, that she was being compared to. That she was setting herself to be a lead that others would follow.

Every now and again she’d turn her head, as if to flick her hair out of her eyes, and catch someone staring at her. Rarity was careful not to let on that she knew, of course. But it was clear she was making an impression simply being here.

All for Pinkie’s sake of course, she reminded herself.

Then again, what if it wasn’t?

“Pinkie darling,” Rarity called, looking over her shoulder again. Conversation had been reduced to shy whispers among the groups, only between people that had entered together, and now Rarity had the audacity to call across the room! Another boundary she had redrawn. “Is it alright if I pick these up, or is that reserved for participants?”

“Go ahead! As long as you don’t eat it!”

Rarity hesitated a second. But then, confidently, she joked; “So I may put it in my mouth, so long as I don’t swallow?”

Pinkie bit down hard on the tip of a hoof to stifle the laugh. She was trying to be serious here. “Yeah! I guess so! Just make sure it gets put in the cleaning thing after!”

Rarity raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected permission for that joke. She picked up a small dildo, inspected it. Bright pink.

She was filled with the overwhelming urge to lick it, just to see how the rest would react.

Of course she didn’t, she put it back down on the table where it belonged. But the urge had been strong.

It didn’t help that, after her little display, conversation had raised above the volume of a whisper. Already she had redefined what was acceptable to the room, just because she had been seen to do it, and so confidently.

That was a wonderful thrill of power, wasn’t it?

Normally she had to learn and excel at established norms, but Pinkie had created a space where none yet existed. Rarity was the unquestioned authority in the room - which meant things were acceptable as long as she was seen doing them. It was made true for her doing it.

Of course, the realization of how much power she had here - how much power she had over the others in this space - was pushing her to see how far she could take it. How convincing she could be.

What others would let themselves do, if only for her example.

There was another thrill to her being here, she was realizing with dawning apprehension. As long as she was here, at the corner of everyone’s mind, they were wondering if Rarity wanted to be in the stocks. What they would do if she was.

She saw it, when they didn’t know she could see them look. They were hoping that she would try. They wouldn’t dare ask, of course not. But Rarity was as much a fantasy as the stocks themselves.

This realization, combined with the knowledge she had the power to define the acceptable…

Rarity walked up to a pony couple. Two she didn’t know. Shy, younger, towards the last years of college aged, a he and a she. Neither had serious ideas of volunteering themselves, but were here for the spectacle that someone else might. Perfect.

“Hello.” Rarity smiled. “Enjoying the show?”

“We don’t know, yet.” The ‘she’ answered for both of them. Blonde mane, fetching strawberry pink coat.

“Well. It can be a bit intimidating, can’t it?” Rarity laughed. “Still, one can’t help but admit the disappointment that nobody’s been bold enough to try it.”

The couple blushed furiously, looked to each other for reassurance. Found it. “Well, we didn’t think anyone would.” ‘He’ answered, tall, athletic, black mane and green coat with a pottery cutie mark.

“Of course. But if someone did, you would stay to watch, wouldn’t you?”

Again, they hesitated, and Rarity was careful to look very disappointed about that. To make them understand that the faux pas was to deny those desires, not to admit to them. ‘She’ rose to Rarity’s challenge first.

“I think so.” Her bravery ended there, though, and she began her retreat. “It’s okay to watch, right?”

“I should think so,” Rarity scoffed. “That’s part of the fun, you understand. You’d be doing them a favour. If someone puts on a show, it is with the expectation of an audience.”

‘He’ rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Yeah. I’m… I’m kind of curious. I don’t think anyone will but…” he thrust his courage to the sticking place. “I do want to see someone try.”

“Marvellous.” And Rarity smiled brightly. “There is no designated volunteer, of course. If someone were to lock themselves up, why, it could be anyone in this room who got the idea to do it. Any that take your fancy?”

‘She’ choked on nothing, and her - boyfriend? - looked aside and brushed his hair out of his eyes, trying to hide as much of his face as he could doing it. But Rarity stood firm, the very picture of innocent curiosity.

“I’m Rarity, by the way.”

They clearly knew. But the point wasn’t to introduce herself: The point was for them to introduce themselves.

‘She’ was “Strawberry Fields.”

‘He’ was just “Enamel”.

Rarity left her previous question in the air, begging to be answered. Enamel answered first. “I wasn’t thinking about that, actually.” Again, so nervous, but it wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth, yet.

“What were you thinking, then, Enamel? I’m friends with the artist, you understand, it’s helpful to know these things.”

He looked to Strawberry shyly, and she looked just as curious as Rarity did. Apparently they hadn’t gotten this far with each other, on their own. “Well, I thought, with everyone focused on the stocks, Strawberry and I could watch together. You know, like…” he trailed off, and looked away. But Strawberry’s eyes went wide as saucers, and her heart started hammering in her chest, that much was obvious.

“Ah, I see.” Rarity played it off as the most obvious thing in the world, a thing she’d heard a thousand times before. “Were you thinking of just fooling around, or perhaps Strawberry could sit on your lap, and try not to be louder than who you’re watching together?”

“I-” Enamel shut up. Looked at Strawberry again.

Strawberry’s eyes darted to the left and the right. Then, she nodded her head as a hummingbird flaps its wings. She’d somehow managed to turn even pinker.

And just like that, Rarity had just made a couple tell her the filthiest things, things they couldn’t even admit to each other, and they were grateful to her for giving them permission to do it.

The power did not go to her head, per se.

“Well. I haven’t decided what I’m doing yet.” Rarity laughed. “I’m not sure it’s for me to try it, much as I’m sure it’s a disappointment to some here.”

“I’ll try not to be, but,” Strawberry was all restrained enthusiasm, “I think you’d be amazing to watch!” Confident, but questioning if she hadn’t stepped over a line.

Rarity smiled. “Why, thank you very much. How lovely of you to say. If I do, I’ll be sure to look for you both. Put on a good show for me too, would you?”

Enamel gulped. “O-o-of course.”

Strawberry pulled him down into a deep kiss. It was not at all chaste. By the end of it, Enamel’s growing erection was obvious, and Strawberry was no longer trying to hold back the moans as he left a trail of reddening bruises along her neck.

A lot of power, and none of it went to Rarity’s head at all.

What was far more interesting, though, was that this had a chain effect. With these two going at it, the boundaries had been moved further out again. One no longer had to volunteer for the stocks to indulge in the sexual tension of the room. The space itself, so designed to facilitate a public fantasy, was enough.

And so long as nobody engaged with it through the exhibit - through becoming the centrepiece - then it wasn’t really of note. It was not the final leap into the abyss.

Pinkie had been watching with fascination, and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ as Rarity winked outrageously back, and went to find her next prey.

Two hours later, and Rarity had achieved what could be called a rousing success, but had fallen short of her ultimate win.

The space had been transformed into a heady hormone haze, where desire was openly discussed (but carefully) so as not to intimidate the new arrivals. It would be tragic if anyone were scared off.

Instead, the audience had taken to a shy and nervous, but enthusiastic, comparing of tastes, of interests. Of learning that their tastes weren’t as unique as they feared. Of finding kindred spirits for the first time.

For many, a burden of shame they had not known they had carried had been lifted from them at the door.

And like attracted like. Rarity still caught some discrete attempts. Glowing horns on unicorns, tucked wings from pegasi. Far more common were partners standing too close together, sitting in each other’s laps, curled delicately around each other.

And, when somebody asked what they were doing, they would confess!

From what Rarity could understand, it was more about intimacy. Keeping these things private with the hope of being asked. Of being proud of being so bold and open, as the space invited them to be, but with the pretense that you needed to ask. You needed to want to know, to be curious, to invite yourself.

And there was a kind of fun in that, too. To want others to be curious. To have them suspect but not know. To tease their imaginations.

What was frustrating was that, as fascinating as that was, it maintained the final barrier between the audience and the stockade itself, and it was one that Rarity could not coax anyone else across, and it was the final barrier that she was not willing to lead by example.

Surely she couldn’t.

She made towards a hippogriff she found rather fetching, Shimmerlily, who she had been talking to for over an hour. The hippogriff had made a point of leaving Rarity alone for a while, but never straying too far. Letting Rarity come back to her, as she always did.

As she had again.

“I’ve been thinking.” Rarity slid up behind her.

“Hmm?” Shimmerlily had been lost in her own thoughts, apparently, by the set of her pale white beak. And since Rarity had been given permission to touch, she had learned that her teal fur was exactly as soft as it looked.

“Maybe I should volunteer, go first.”

Shimmerlily thought about that. “Are you really thinking about it? Or do you want to know what I think about you thinking that.”

“A bit of both.” Rarity admitted.

“I think you won’t. But if you do, you should tell me first.” Shimmerlily was taller than Rarity, and when she smiled at her now, Rarity felt very small indeed. “I want to have you before anyone else can.”

Rarity gulped. “That’s uh- quite forward of you.”

“Well.” Shimmerlily leaned forward, held the back of Rarity’s head with a claw and kissed her forehead. “Only for the last hour or so. I’m still learning.”

Rarity had run into a problem, that being that she was not nearly as good at getting as she was at giving. “I imagine there’ll be a line.” She tried to joke.

“Of course there will be,” Shimmerlily agreed too quickly. “Who could stay away?”

Rarity blushed. This was not how this was meant to go at all. “I suppose.”

“It’s not what you want, is it?” Shimmerlily teased - and there was a mocking lilt to her voice, like she was singing, like she’d caught Rarity with her hoof in the cookie jar. “You want everyone else to be thinking about it. But fly too close to the sun…”

“Yes,” Rarity muttered bitterly, “I’ve learned that one the hard way.”

Shimmerlily’s hand slid down to the back of Rarity’s neck and gripped it. All the hair on Rarity’s body from the tips of her ear to the end of her tail stood on end as electricity coursed its way through each and every one. “You asked me for a different reason.”

It wasn’t a question. But had she? “You have an answer in mind, I take it?”

Shimmerlily smiled again. Relaxed her jaw, licked her smooth lips. “You obviously want somebody else to do it. You’ve been pushing us all toward it all afternoon. Am I wrong?”

Rarity squirmed. “Well, no. Not until now, anyway.”

“So, now you’ve been teasing everyone for hours, and you’ve built up the big show as the final....” Shimmerlily clearly wanted to use any word but ‘climax’, and couldn’t think of one, so she worked around it. Rarity loved that she could know that just from watching her, now. “Finale. That’s what’s important right now. What do you want?”

Rarity squirmed. There was an undeniable, burning testament to the truth of that. “When you came in here, you hid under your wing and went to hide behind the snack table. What happened?”

“I know,” Shimmerlily nuzzled Rarity’s neck boldly - she hadn’t done that before. “You happened to me.”

It’s true. Where most Rarity talked to had gone the way of Enamel and Strawberry Fields, Shimmerlily had realized what Rarity was doing quickly, and realized how much fun she was having. She’d been a quick study.

Rarity had not expected her own weapon to turn against her like this.

She squirmed. “Well. I didn’t expect I’d meet someone so… likeminded, in a place like this. I was thinking we could go out and maybe have coffee?”

Shimmerlily’s thumb rolled against the tense knots of muscles in the back of Rarity’s neck, slow and lazy circles that made her melt. “Or we could stay here.”

“We could,” Rarity groaned, resigning herself to the neck massage.

“I like you a lot.” Shimmerlily admitted. Her grip was firm but her eyes were gentle, almost shimmering. The set of her cheekbones made her playful smile crease right to the sides of her face, and she was so… observant. “A bit of a crush, actually.”

“My, my, where did that shy girl disappear to so quickly?” Rarity teased again, but she was obviously deflecting, and her heart was hammering in her chest so hard she could barely stand it. And the feeling of clawed fingers against her neck, holding her tight, was rapturous.

“You ate her right up.” Shimmerlily leaned down to Rarity’s ear so every breath tickled her, just a little. “I want to return the favour. Here, now.”

Rarity gulped. “Really?”

Shimmerlily nodded. This is where her courage was faltering, but she had committed to the role of confident lover and she would take it to the end, so long as Rarity did not dislodge her from it. And as scared as she was by the offer? She could not bring herself to say ‘no’ either. “You want to be seen. But you want to be off limits. And that suits me fine. I would love to be seen with you.”

Rarity shuddered. “It’s a tempting idea. But… we did just meet. This is very sudden.”

“I know.”

Another happy shiver. “And, while I do find you… very attractive,” Rarity continued.

“Am I really?” Shimmerlily teased, nipped Rarity’s ear playfully. She quite liked that, actually. The tip of her beak was sharp, but more even than the edge of a tooth or a nail. It rounded the feeling out quite nicely. She could get used to it.

“Very.”

“Don’t you want to see how jealous you can make them? Watching me get you all to myself?”

There it was. Rarity was, at the end of the day, disgustingly monogamous. For all the very real excitement she got from crowds, from playing the social butterfly, her ultimate fantasy was being swept off her feet by her Prince Charming. Or Princess, of course.

And of course the one to do it would be the one to know exactly how to push those buttons. Rarity had clearly given too much away, having spent the hours pressing everyone else’s.

“What are you proposing,” Rarity pressed, “Specifically. Very specifically. As specifically as you can get, I think.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. First we go find the quietest part of the room, just so you can enjoy seeing who comes over just to watch. Then I was going to put one of those pretty silver plugs in your tail hole, because that’s something so embarrassing that you haven’t even thought about it yet. But now that you’re thinking it you’re just about ready to curl up in a ball and die of stage fright, but that makes you want it even more, doesn’t it?”

Rarity hid her chest deeper in Shimmerlily’s chest and nodded, because words failed her entirely.

“Then I was going to put a collar on you, so everyone would know you’re just for me today. Uh, just for today, if you want, I mean.”

“You’re-” Rarity coughed, her throat was so tight, “Making a good case for yourself.”

“Good. Thank you. Uh-” She shook her head, remembered she was playing a role, remembered that she was being good at it. The learned confidence was back in her voice. “Then, I was going to spread you out, and show you just how much better claws are than hooves.”

“More specific.” Rarity chided. “Don’t get embarrassed now, you’re doing so well.”

“I want to put my thumb on your clit as I curl two fingers inside you and explore you, and show everyone just how quickly I learn you, and show everyone what they can’t have, and I want to make you cum so hard that you can’t help but scream, and I want it to be my name you scream when you do.”

Rarity shuddered again. “You’re right. This is a much better fantasy than the stocks. This is… this is much more for me, I think.”

“Now,” Shimmerlily leaned back, and Rarity could see her face again, and how furiously she was blushing, how her ears flicked nervously with every second. They hadn’t even had their first real kiss yet, she realized. Had been playfully dancing around each other this entire time. “Is that what you actually want, or is it just a better idea?”

That was the real question. This had been safe as a bit of teasing, albeit risque for how public even this had been. It had made for a very vivid fantasy, these last few minutes. But is that all she wanted it to be?

What was acceptable here was what Rarity said was acceptable. The boundaries were the ones she’d drawn, and it was clear that everybody else here had taken advantage of the space she had made for them except, so far, her.

And, she suspected if she could have but didn’t, then Pinkie Pie would be very disappointed.

Rarity had Shimmerlily take her hoof, and guided her to the least crowded edge of the room. “Let’s start slow, and see where that takes us?”

Shimmerlily nodded, relief cutting through her excitement. Talking the talk was very different to walking the walk - as Rarity knew too well.

That suited her fine. The talk acted as both the anticipation and the permission. It was the direction and the desire to follow it. And Shimmerlily had made it very clear that however far they actually went tonight, it wasn’t lesser if it failed to live up to the idea.

No. The idea had to be so much more exaggerated than the reality it incited. That was its purpose. Like a horizon, if it were ever reached, you would only find a new one just as far away. It made a better journey to choose a destination, but to actually reach it would be to miss the point.