Stock Imagery

by MrNumbers

Rating: mature
Tags: Main 6, Romance, Original Character, Sex, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 11585

Pinkie Pie's planned a provocative piece, an exhibitionism exhibit. A public stocks, free for anyone to use. The point isn't expecting anyone to really use them: The point is making you think about it. And gosh, do her friends think about it.

What makes for good fantasy? Are we failing ourselves if we don't pursue them, or is that missing the point of what fantasy should be? If we are never given the opportunity to engage in our wildest daydreams, we never have a reason to ask what holds us back.

Pinkie Pie thinks the best way to explain this is by setting up a public stockade with a sign that says "Fuck me!" on it, with a big smiley face.

She's not wrong.

A commission.

Contains: Exhibitionism, voyeurism, con non-con, rigorous overthinking, a wild variety of partners real and imagined, and some shipping.

Published 2021-08-10 20:10:03 UTC
Last updated 2021-08-10 20:10:03 UTC

Twilight: Of Knowing her Place

Twilight pinched the bridge of her nose. “Pinkie, I can’t approve this.”

Pinkie stomped her hoof and puffed enough to unsettle the black beret she was wearing, a matching set to the black turtleneck. “You can’t stifle art! This is my true expression!”

“Pinkie, it’s a set of public stockades with a-” Twilight hesitated.

“Yes?”

“The sign on it says-” and Twilight shut up again. “You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

“That’s part of the art!” Pinkie grinned, looped around Twilight’s desk to read over her shoulder. “See? It’s working already! It’s making you confront your internal boundaries and shame that would otherwise be unrevealed to you!”

“It’s a public stockade with a sign that says ‘Fuck me!’ with a big smiley face on it.”

“Correct!” Pinkie emphasized both syllables like they were each their own word. Core wrecked.

“You can’t honestly believe anybody’s going to volunteer for this, can you?”

“Nah, nobody’s that brave. At least, not in Ponyville.” Pinkie thought about it. “That’s not the point.” She finished, before Twilight could ask who she was thinking of outside of Ponyville.

“Then what is the point?” She asked instead.

Pinkie rolled her eyes and tapped Twilight’s head. “Duh! It’s to make you imagine if you were brave enough! What it’d be like if you could do that. It’s to confront you with permission to engage in a wild fantasy where you’re only stopped by your own self-denial, causing you to interrogate your inhibitions against temptation!”

Twilight read and reread the art installation written in sharpie, with its crude yet evocative illustration. “That’s a lot deeper than I expected you to be with this, honestly.”

“Hey, you know what else goes a lot deeper than you’d expect it to-”

“That’s about the level I was expecting, yes.”

“Well?”

“I have to admit, the fact that it makes me uncomfortable proves you have a point. Especially if you don’t expect anyone to actually use it. Still. We’ll need to cordon it off. Put it somewhere private and age restricted.”

Pinkie nodded, and tapped the part of the form where she already worked all that out. Twilight deflated a little. Another avenue of retreat cut off. "That's part of the thrill, actually. It's got to be the only thing there, wherever 'there' is, so that if you see anybody else looking with you..."

"... you know what they're thinking about, too.” Twilight finished. “They had to go out of their way. It's part of the public nature of the sculpture."

"Putting the 'exhibit' back into 'exhibitionism'," Pinkie sang proudly.

Twilight couldn't stop herself from giggling in time, and clapped her mouth shut in horror. Pinkie, for her part, just smiled. "Okay. Okay, you have Princess Approval for your exhibitionist exhibition."

Twilight heated the wax on her seal, hesitating before taking the last plunge. She looked over her shoulder at Pinkie. "Just out of curiosity, what do you expect will happen?"

"Honestly?" Pinkie watched the seal hovering above the page with hungry eyes and licked her lips. "I have no idea. That's why I'm so excited. Don't you want to find out?"

The sticky thud of the wax seal said that, apparently, Twilight did.

It had to be in the castle. It was the only place where there was enough pedestrian traffic to not look suspicious, enough security to make sure the wrong sorts didn't get the wrong ideas. Or to protect the right sorts if they got the right idea, as Pinkie helpfully added.

The stockade had an entire floor dedicated to it, Twilight had made sure to pick a floor with ample bathrooms and showering facilities. The entire floor was cut off by a curtained doorway directly outside the stairwell. Anyone who went past it knew what they were here for - and knew that was what everyone they saw was here for, too.

They wouldn't all be thinking the same thing. To Pinkie, that would have made it boring art, if there were just one correct response to it. No, some would come to think about it. Others would come to see who was thinking about it. Some would show up hoping someone else would be brave enough - and whether they'd be brave enough to participate. Some were here wondering what anyone else found hot about this.

Twilight, by virtue of setting up the space, was left alone with her own thoughts about it.
"Consensual non-consent," she repeated to herself, as she trailed the tip of a wing along the smoothed wooden surface of the stockade. The inside cuffs were soft and rubbery, and a comfortable bench had been run behind it. Someone could lock themselves in face up or face down, to their preference, and be comfortable for a long time. "Isn't that what Pinkie said?"

It was. The stockades were self-locking, and the key was kept just out of reach. But you had to lock yourself in, knowing what would happen. Whoever locked themselves in couldn't be let out until someone else unlocked them, either. There were a pair of guards nearby, and Twilight had insisted on a heartrate monitor in all three lunettes - the technical word for the holes in the stockade. Twilight thought it was a very pretty word.

Lunettes.

The heart rate monitor would ensure protection for the involuntarily - and voluntarily - bound and gagged. As soon as she had raised this point, Pinkie had replied with a knowing grin. A grin that meant Twilight had been thinking about this more than she had. Twilight had blushed right to the tips of her ears, and continued with the safety checks.

Consensual non-consent. To say that you want no say. To want what you want to be irrelevant. To give yourself to be taken.

Freedom and liberation from yourself.

Twilight hadn't thought about this before Pinkie had put the idea in her head. But once it was there, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

One addition, which Pinkie had given that knowing smile at, was the inclusion of magic inhibitor rings. At first Twilight had considered making them fake, enchanting them to tell the wearer to pretend they weren't, because it was more important that they be seen wearing them than that they work.

Pinkie had been thrilled that Twilight understood the nature of the art well enough to think of it in those terms. Had congratulated her on that. Had made Twilight blush to the tips of her ears again. But then Pinkie had reminded Twilight that it would only leave a unicorn as helpless as anyone else.

She had suggested, in fact, that Twilight was not suggesting what was best for the exhibit, but was thinking about her own fantasies of how she would use it, and that she was free to bring her own fake ring in that case.

And Twilight shuddered, because Pinkie had whispered that in her ear, and she'd been right.

Twilight had stopped thinking about fake inhibitor rings after that.

She wandered around the staging room with a mental checklist. She was far too embarrassed to write any of this down, and she didn't like burning paper. Not least of all because she associated it with sending letters to Celestia. Imagine her reading this one.

Pinkie's notes had just been the design of the stockade. Pinkie would get full credit for the exhibit, but Twilight had been the one to provide the surgical-grade stainless steel tables at the edge of the circular display room.She had been the one to supply everything else too. She did one last inventory pass.

Here was the station she had provided for further bondage. This table had disposal elastic sleeves for comfortably binding wings to the body, like a compression bandage. For guests with hands and claws there were adjustable pleather mittens. A variety of plugs and vibrators for insertion, kept under UV light. Ring gags, ball gags, fabric for gags. One bin for the disposal of single use items, another for the sterilization of reusable equipment.

More intense, demeaning and degrading items were kept under lock and key, the key kept by the pony locking themselves into the stockade. Blindfolds and earmuffs. Markers that would draw easily on skin and fur. A chalkboard to hang around the neck, to list requests or to keep a running tally. Paddles, crops and other striking implements - locked with them, permission to be hit at all.

This served two purposes. First, to curate a relative comfort level. The fantasy had to accommodate both those who wanted to feel safe, and those who didn’t. Second? If those items were available it was only because they had been made available. It was a statement, an insinuation, a temptation and a tease.

A side table had been added to the stockade, for anyone who wanted to display their preferences when locking themselves in. A space to allow some locked items to be removed, but not others.

Another detail: The stocks themselves had been put on a rotating dais. One would face the entrance, and had a mirror facing it. The other faced away from the entrance, and had no mirror. Did you want to know? Did you want to see?

There were no options for the captive to be anonymous, or for the other guests and participants to be anonymous to each other. That was vital to the artistic intent.

Twilight’s additions had all been more expensive and more difficult than the simple stockade Pinkie had proposed, but- well, Pinkie had asked Twilight for suggestions, and Twilight had kept giving answers. Pinkie had obviously enjoyed asking, enjoyed watching Twilight think so hard about this.

The point of the art, after all, had been to put ideas in your head. To make you think about these things. Presentation was important. A full spread of options, of accessories and extras, was necessary for full effect. The stockade was the framework - the additions provided an 'and then, and then, and then' to make the fantasy more compelling…

Or, at least, that's what she'd told Pinkie. Who had looked quite fetching in that tight black turtleneck, actually. Who obviously enjoyed the ideas she was putting in Twilight's head.

Twilight walked to the next table. Prophylactic potions in a neat row of vials, latex contraceptives of every size and variety, lubricants with placards of purpose. Don't use silicone based lubricants with the silicon toys, things like that. Nobody would use this, of course, but it was important to keep in mind that someone could.

It made sure anyone that came in here would think that someone would. That was more important than if anyone did. The more care put into this, the more complete the illusion.

The next table. Two plastic kegs of sports drink 'red' and 'blue' flavoured, tea and coffee in metal dispensers, snacks in sealed wrappers. Protein bars, cookies, sandwiches. A sign on the table that announced 'For Participants Only'.

Pinkie was firm on that. Otherwise somebody could claim they were here for the free food. Nobody could have an excuse to be here, no plausible deniability. If you wanted a sandwich... "Either get in the stocks, or get in whoever's in them". Twilight had laughed.

Being here, alone, in this room now? It wasn't so funny.

Much to her surprise, Pinkie hadn't been annoyed about all this. She'd called Twilight her first proof of concept, her first big success, the real point to this. Twilight obviously enjoyed putting so much thought into this, which is something they had both learned about her.

But why had this appealed so much to her? Why had she gotten so invested in this?

For what little romantic experience she had, she knew she wasn’t usually submissive, but when she thought about this, the only role she could imagine herself was in the stocks. That surprised her.

But she had been a Princess for a while now. The smart, dependable, reliable Twilight Sparkle that was the ultimate role model to everyone, all the time. And sometimes, maybe…

It’d be nice not to worry about failing to live up to those expectations. It’d be nice to be seen as… someone with the same needs as everyone else.

It’d be nice to trust others to take care of her.

She wouldn’t have to worry about the pressure someone feels at saying ‘no’ to a Princess. She wouldn’t have to worry about someone pretending to like her for her power, her status. Here she would have no power, no status, to take advantage of, to be taken advantage of. She would be naked in the most important way.

She wouldn’t have to worry about being ‘good enough’, a generous enough lover, that anxiety of being selfish. What anyone wanted from her, they would take.

Twilight wanted to give everything. So bad it hurt.

She’d leave the paddles and the markers locked. There was no appeal to her in the degradation aspect. She didn’t want to be beneath others. She wanted to be seen, for the first time in too long, as an equal.

All she had to do was slide into those stocks and anyone could approach her without fear, take her as she was.

Of course she’d have the stockade face the entrance, and the mirror. She wanted to see who would approach her here that would be too intimidated otherwise. She wanted to find them again, and thank them. Or would that be too much?

No, it was just a fantasy. She didn’t have to worry about it being too much. She could imagine following up with someone, getting coffee afterwards, laughing about it. A real relationship, where the barriers had been torn down from the start.

So much easier than dating as royalty.

She wanted to get fucked. She wanted to scream it, but she couldn’t. She needed somebody to know it without her having to ask, without her having to say it.

She wanted to offer herself. To be seen. To see others look at her with lust, to see them think about her as someone they could be with. To wonder what to do with her. To know who would tease her, try to find her most sensitive places, try to find the places that made her shiver and shout and moan. To know who, when they could take anything from her, would try to learn how much they could give back. To experiment with her, to explore her.

She wanted to know who would just use her. Who would be so honest and fearless. Someone who would take Twilight at her word at what she was offering and not hedge their bets, not ingratiate themselves to her. Take her because they want her.

She wanted to lick pussies and suck cock and know that she might get nothing for it, and to get cared for anyway. It would make it so much more special, so much more sincere. She wanted to offer herself unconditionally, just to feel what would be done to her without needing to ask.

With other people here, though, she would probably have been too self-conscious to think so much. When there wasn’t anyone here to assume she was here to check up on them, monitor them, scold them. Before anyone could be scared to see her in here, having the same thoughts as them, the same hidden desires, the same nervousness and embarrassment and want. Before anyone could feel caught by her.

It would have broken her heart.

Maybe that’s why she invested so much into this, so much more than even Pinkie. All she had ever wanted to give was everything. But Pinkie would be able to come back here, any time, would be able to experience the exhibition in its entirety. Twilight’s fun - and she had more of it than she could have imagined - would have to end when the audience arrived.

Twilight looked at the stockade one last time with longing, and bit her bottom lip hard enough to turn it white.

No, if she came back, she would have to put herself in the stocks immediately, before anyone could be intimidated by her. She could do that any time she wanted. And that thought kept her warm, and she blushed to the tips of her ears again.

Maybe she didn’t need to. But it was nice to think about.

Rarity: Of Being Seen

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.

Fluttershy: Of Being Allowed

You were supposed to go with a friend. Or friends. You didn’t have to, but it was just… less awkward, that way.

Fluttershy really wanted to go with her friends, which was the problem, which was why she went to the exhibit alone.

She smiled as she passed through the curtains into the wide, circular gallery space, and immediately felt warm and fuzzy to be in it. Her friends had put so much of themselves into it.

Twilight had put so much care into making sure everybody would be safe and protected - thinking about every possible way somebody might need to be looked after. Even something like this.

And Rarity was obviously the biggest reason the space was so… comfortable to slip in. There were maybe a dozen others, and none of them were paying that much attention to Fluttershy as she made her way in. They were having too much fun - even the ones who were just talking.

And Pinkie, standing by the snack table, was obviously the only reason the exhibit could exist at all. Who else would even think of this? Or, having thought of it, make it a public announcement that this was the kind of thing they thought about?

That was the problem, Fluttershy thought to herself, walking to the stockade. She couldn’t think about her friends the way she wanted to if they were actually here. She ran a hoof down the stock’s frame, the wood varnished smooth and splinterless. Pinkie or Twilight’s doing?, she wondered.

Fluttershy was the only one of her friends whose fantasy was not being the one in the stocks.

She wanted Twilight here. She’d had a crush on her ever since she’d become a Princess. When she’d first met Twilight, the librarian had been cold, standoffish, patronizing. But with a little love and self-esteem, she’d become so warm, and generous, and thoughtful. Where before Twilight always wanted to be left alone, now she was always excited to share everything with everybody.

Of course Fluttershy couldn’t tell her that. She couldn’t stand to make Twilight try to turn her down delicately, try to spare her feelings.

But if Twilight were to lock herself into the stocks, Fluttershy wouldn’t have to tell her. She wouldn’t have to ask. What she wanted to do was show Twilight how she felt, whether or not those feelings were returned.

She walked to the front of the stocks and imagined Twilight’s head poking through. Wide eyed and embarrassed that Fluttershy was here to see her like this.

In her mind, Fluttershy cupped Twilight’s chin, and pulled her into a gentle kiss. A soft one, at first. Closed lips. Just the smallest tilt of the head.

She imagined Twilight’s confused expression as she broke away. A look of shock as, on the other side, a stallion lined himself up to fuck her. Twilight tried to ignore it, tried to focus on Fluttershy in front of her, wondering what the kiss had meant.

That was part of Fluttershy’s fantasy too, the others. She wanted to be special, not just lost in the crowd. But if others were there, being so bold and aggressive, then wouldn’t that be so reassuring? What harm was there in a friendly kiss, next to being fucked by a stranger?

Fluttershy swallowed back the lump in her dry throat. She took a step back from the stocks, imagining Twilight’s shy embarrassment watching Fluttershy watch her. Fluttershy imagined every look on Twilight’s face as the stallion took her from behind, and smiled.

Because it would mean she knew for sure that Twilight wanted this. Because it meant she would know for sure she wouldn’t be refused.

In her mind, she trails the tip of her wing down Twilight’s neck. Feels her quickening pulse. Twilight would be face-up, she thinks. Her stomach showing. Twilight would want that intimacy.

The stallion finishes on Twilight’s stomach, and her Princess shivers happily, but squirmed, unsatisfied. The stallion was there for himself, and sated. Fluttershy takes his position. She is there for Twilight, instead.

She would clean her first, of course, gently, carefully.

There were toys, toys Twilight had picked out for herself especially, but Fluttershy pays them no mind. If she would only be allowed this one time, she wants to remember Twilight’s taste, her touch. She wants it to be intimate, and personal, so she wouldn’t be left wishing she had done more. So she could be satisfied with this once.

She didn’t think about what she’d do as much as she thinks about what she’d say. How much she admired her. How inspiring Twilight’s struggles with her own anxieties had been. How beautiful she was. How long she’d thought about this. How it was okay if it was only just this once.

Fluttershy shook her head, and made her way over to the snack table, where Pinkie was.

“Hey Fluttershy!” Pinkie wrapped her up in a big tight hug the second Fluttershy was in pouncing distance. “I’m so glad you made it.”

“Well, you know.” Fluttershy could smile, or she could look at Pinkie, but only one or the other. She picked smiling. “It sounded like it was going better than you could have hoped.”

“Yeah! Twilight and Rarity were such a big help!” Pinkie immediately gave all the credit to her friends, because she was wonderful like that. “So what do you think?”

“What do I think?” Fluttershy blinked. “What do I think about what?”

“The stocks!” Pinkie wiggled her eyebrows. “The idea! Don’cha think it’d be fun?”

Fluttershy chose looking at Pinkie this time. “Not for me, I don’t think. What about you?”

Pinkie laughed. “I’m too busy playing lifeguard to think about it.”

That was curious. It was unlike Pinkie not to give a straight answer to anything. She just gave answers that raised more questions, usually. “If you weren’t busy, though. Would you?”

Pinkie blushed (blushed!) and looked away. “Nah, I don’t think so. It was always about making everyone else think about it. You know?”

Fluttershy nodded, yes. She did understand that. “I prefer thinking of other people, too.”

“Reeeally?” Pinkie’s eyes bulged, and Fluttershy realized her mistake too late. She’d just not wanted Pinkie to think she was a wet blanket.

Fluttershy nodded again, because her mouth wouldn’t move, and she couldn’t think of any words she’d say anyway. That part of her brain was static hiss, loud electric distortion.

“Normally I wouldn’t ask, but Rarity made it look too much fun.” Pinkie laughed playfully. “Anyone specific?”

“Ah. Just now, I was uh, thinking of Twilight. I guess.” Fluttershy screwed her eyes shut so hard she was scared she was going to cry. But the panic just made it that much harder to lie.

Pinkie’s giggling stopped, and Fluttershy felt the hug before she could open her eyes to see it. Pinkie held her close. “Hey, it’s okay. Everybody’s been thinking about everybody today! You’re fine. I don’t have to tell.”

And Fluttershy let out a short breath. But the problem was it wasn’t just Twilight. Fluttershy loved all her friends so much. She’d even thought about Pinkie too, before coming here, alone. And when she heard how long Rarity had been here, it had made her head swim for an hour.

Would Pinkie still be hugging her if she knew- of course she would. That was why Fluttershy loved her so much. That was the whole reason Pinkie had set this up in the first place.

Then, Pinkie just asked. “You thought about me?” Like she was worried she’d hurt Fluttershy by doing it.

And Fluttershy froze. She didn’t nod this time, just, didn’t realize to shake her head fast enough. Pinkie kept hugging her tight.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Yes.

Fluttershy gulped. “Okay.”

“Just in general, or in the stocks?”

Fluttershy made a noise that sounded like a laugh, but it was just the sound of the nervousness in her body pushing out of her. “In the stocks. Actually.”

“Was it just us?”

“Oh, no.” Fluttershy shook her head. “That’s what I like about the idea so much. I don’t feel selfish about it. I don’t feel as possessive if… if I’m sharing.”

Pinkie stroked Fluttershy’s hair, long and smooth motions from the top of her skull all the way to the nape of her neck. It was nice. “You worry about that, even in your, you know? Thoughts, I guess?”

Fluttershy nodded. “What I like about this one, is that if you… lock yourself in… you’re saying, I want this. I want you to do whatever you want to do to me, whoever you are. Even if it’s me, and it’s what I want to do, I know it’s okay. Even when I’m… alone… I feel bad.”

“Why do you feel bad?”

“It’s silly.”

“I’m sillier.” Pinkie countered. “It’s okay.”

“I feel bad because I can’t ask if it’s okay to think of… my friends like that. It feels…” Fluttershy let out that laugh sound again. “Like I might be doing something they don’t want me to do.”

Pinkie leaned out of the hug to look around the room, and apparently saw what she needed to see. She held Fluttershy close again. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just in your head. Everybody gets crushes.”

Fluttershy sniffled. Her nose was running, just a little. She hated that. “That’s why I like this one so much. Because I know if you’re thinking about it, it’s like I have permission without needing to ask. I know it’s okay.”

Pinkie just kept hugging her. “You can think of me like that if you want, okay? I promise I won’t get mad. We’re still best friends, okay?”

Fluttershy squeezed Pinkie so tight, and she felt bad about it, but she couldn’t stand to hug her any less. “Okay.”

“Hey, I-” Pinkie hesitated. “I think everything’s okay here, actually. I can take a little break. Come here.” So Pinkie took Fluttershy by the hoof and guided her out of the main exhibit, towards one of the guest bathrooms.

The floor hadn’t been planned as a gallery, so it was like a fancy hotel bathroom. A shower, a big bathtub, a sink, just the one toilet. Pinkie locked the door behind her. Then, to Fluttershy’s surprise, Pinkie slipped off her turtleneck and threw her hat at the sink, then started to run the shower. “Pinkie?”

Pinkie laughed self-consciously, pulling the shower door shut behind her. “You’ll get it in a second. Just, talk to me.”

“About what?”

“About what you think about, when you think of me in the stocks.” Pinkie made a sound that was like a laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Pinkie’s wet mane clung to her neck and her fur was damp and she stood up and leaned against the back wall, letting the water run down her back, and Fluttershy’s breath quickened. “W-well. You’re really bouncy, and, and perky. And you’re so excited, you just can’t hold still. You’re set in tight from the neck up, but you’re just, you want it so bad, you keep… squirming.”

Pinkie made that laugh again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Fluttershy closed her eyes, focused on the sound of the running water. “So, a nice stallion comes up, to take his turn with you. And he’s very nice. So I hold you still for him. I hold your hips down while he lines himself up to you. B-but it’s too soon. You’re not ready yet.”

“Mm?” It was more than a go-on sound, it came from too low in Pinkie’s throat.

“So, I make him stand to one side, so you can see him clearly in the mirror, and I, I brush his… thing, with my wings. And I tease him a little, where you can see. Because he’s for you, and I’m just… keeping him warm for you. And you have to watch. Knowing it’s for you.”

There was a short, sharp gasp from the shower, and Fluttershy didn’t dare open her eyes.

“And then I start to kiss you. On your knees. And you squeeze them against my neck, because that’s the only way to hold still, because I’m making you… squirmier,” Fluttershy smiled, “when I move up to your thighs. And then I keep going. And the whole time, I’m making this stallion so hard for you. He wants you worse than ever.”

“Flutters, can you get the thing from the cabinet for me?”

Fluttershy opened her eyes. The inside door of the shower was fogged up with steam, as much to her relief as it was to her disappointment. She obediently went to the bathroom cabinet and found… a suction cup dildo. Appropriately pink.

The door of the shower opened a little, and a pink hoof reached out. Fluttershy passed it to Pinkie, who hissed a grateful noise, before the shower door closed again, and there was a wet slap as the toy was pressed into the shower wall.

“Keep going,” Pinkie urged.

Fluttershy closed her eyes even tighter. “I don’t know you, like that. I don’t know what you… like. So I try to find out. And I try to remember. So that when I think of you later, I’m, I’m doing a good job. When I imagine it. I want to know how to remember. To show you how much I-” love, “appreciate you, when I think of you again.”

“Please keep talking,” Pinkie’s voice was almost unrecognizable, and the sounds of her hitting against the back wall of the shower was starting to drown out the sound of the water pouring on bathroom tiles. Fluttershy thought about walking around to that side of the shower and watching, but then she didn’t think she’d be able to keep talking if she did.

“And then I walk around to your head,” Fluttershy continued, “And I take a chair so I can rest it in my lap. And I stroke your hair. And I tell you that you’re wonderful. And it’s so nice you want to share yourself like this. And look at how happy you’ve made us. What a wonderful friend you are, letting us all share you like this.”

Fluttershy paused, listened for a moment. Pinkie was some place beyond words, where she could only manage breathless squeaks. Fluttershy took that as the encouragement she needed.

“And I have to talk louder now, because that stallion - just the first one, you’re going to make so many ponies very happy - well he’s being loud with you, and he’s telling you just how w-wet you are, and hot, and I tell you you’re beautiful, too, and even though he’s the one…” she gulped, the words she needed to say were hard for her, “fucking you, I tell you I want you to cum for me, not him. I want you to cum for me, okay?”

In the shower the real Pinkie did, a burst of high pitched laughter that caught in her throat, was swallowed back, and started again. The water cut off abruptly, and when Pinkie stepped out to grab a towel her back legs were still shaking.

She looked very pleased with herself. She looked pleased with Fluttershy too.

“That was fun,” Pinkie laughed. “See? I thought of you too. And you’re not mad, are you?”

Fluttershy couldn’t raise her eyes off the bathroom floor, but she couldn’t keep from smiling either. “No, not at all! That was nice.”

“Still best friends?”

Fluttershy’s heart leapt into her throat, and she nodded as hard as her head could stand. “Yes, please. If you still want to be.”

“Of course I do! I’d give you a big hug, but I’m still a bit… wet.” Pinkie tapped the glass twice. “Shower’s free, if you want. You probably need one too, huh?”

“I… yes.” Fluttershy admitted, delicately.

Pinkie rubbed herself down as fast as she could, making her already poofy hair explode in frizz. “I was going to go back out there, but I can stay here for a bit if you want.”

That was a hard question. Fluttershy thought about it, but her answer was a nice surprise to her. “I think I’m okay now, actually. I feel a lot better now.”

Then there was the promised big hug. Apparently Pinkie didn’t mind so much about being soggy anymore. “It’s okay to think about stuff, okay? But if you got such big crushes that they’re eating you up so much, maybe you should talk about it!”

“I don’t know if I could…”

Pinkie snorted. “I think Twilight needs more hugs than you do right now. Have you seen how much thought she put into this? That girl is pent up. Do me a favour and talk to her, at least?”

“If it’s a favour…” Fluttershy trailed off, squared her shoulders. “I can do that.”

Pinkie hugged her quick, one last time. “I think it would help her a lot. Now, I gotta go make sure everyone’s still having fun out there, and nobody put anything they weren’t supposed to anyplace they weren’t supposed to.”

“You think they would?”

“Nah. Mostly I just gotta guard the snack table.” Pinkie slipped on her turtleneck and beret. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t!”

Fluttershy smiled weakly at that. There were a lot of things Pinkie would do, but ‘mope’ wasn’t one of them. She looked at the shower, considered it.

Pinkie was right that Twilight had put way too much thought into the exhibit, too. And Twilight did like to be asked about things she thought about this hard…

Maybe she could ask Twilight to keep her company instead?

Applejack and Rainbow Dash stared at the stocks. Applejack shook her head.

“I don’t get it.”

Rainbow shrugged. “I don’t get it either. I’m already on public display and, lemme tell you, not hot.”

“Thought you had fun being with the Wonderbolts?”

“I mean, yeah. But not in a like, sexy way. Total opposite of that.”

Applejack nodded. “Yeah, I can see that. Remember back when you curled up and cried backstage for the Young Flyers competition?”

Rainbow pouted. “That was years ago. I don’t do stuff like that anymore.”

“Know you don’t, sugar. Just rememberin’s all.”

“Figured maybe you’d get it a little, what with the rope stuff and all.”

Applejack puffed air out her nose and knocked her hat back. “This is this, and that’s that. It’s different.”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “How?”

“‘Cause that is just you and me, featherbrain.”

Rainbow blinked, looked away. “Ah, yeah, right.”

Pinkie bounced over to them. “Hey! Didn’t think you’d make it. What do you think?”

Applejack and Rainbow squinted, then looked to each other.Tried to work something out, failed, shrugged. Applejack spoke first. “It’s, uh, different.”

“It’s… interesting.” Rainbow managed.

“Yeah, it’s not really for everyone.” Pinkie agreed, “But if you don’t like it, knowing someone else does should give you something to think about, right?”

Applejack shrugged. “I guess. I try not to think about what’s going on in someone else’s head about this stuff, though. None of my business.”

Pinkie nodded. “I like that! How about you, Dashy?”

Rainbow Dash walked up to the ‘Fuck Me’ placard and squinted at it. “This really does it for someone, huh?”

Pinkie giggled. “Oh, yeah, like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Weird.” Rainbow paused. “Wait. Or am I weird for not getting it?”

“I don’t think anybody’s weird!” Pinkie reassured her.

Rainbow Dash and Applejack shared a look that, between them, meant that of course Pinkie would think that. But Applejack couldn’t tell whether they were the weird ones or not either, so they’d have to go with it for now.

They’d been dating long enough they could manage entire conversations like that.

Rainbow shrugged again. “How’d it go, anyway? You get what you wanted out of it?”

Pinkie hid a giggle behind a hoof. “More than I could have hoped!”

Applejack and Rainbow shared another look at that. Applejack drew the short straw between them. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! I mean, it’d have been way more fun if someone actually took this baby for a spin,” she patted the stockade affectionately, “but I think I got the right ideas across! And I think it helped some friends a lot! Which I didn’t expect at all!”

Another look. Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “Twilight huh?”

Applejack snorted. “My money’s on Fluttershy.”

Pinkie deflated. “Well, it seems obvious when you put it like that.”

“Guess that answers who this was for, though.” Applejack looked around the room again, squinting at two stallions sitting in each other’s laps, looking real happy about it. “You gonna close up soon?”

“Guess so.” Pinkie sighed. “Honestly, maybe I’ll do a different theme next year. That could be fun. You two got any ideas?”

“Nope.” “Nuh-uh.”

“Boring.” Pinkie sighed. “I’ll just have to ask somepony else.”

Shimmerlily sipped her coffee with a barely hidden smile. “I love the new dress.”

Rarity pulled at the hem of it, where it ended a short way down her thighs. “Thank you, darling. A nightmare to work out the right length. Just long enough that nobody can see what I’m wearing under it, but short enough I still feel like they might.”

“And what are you wearing underneath it?” Shimmerlily kept her eyes above the table, but her claws held her teaspoon at its edge.

“Mm,” Rarity purred, “won’t you just love finding out?”

There was a clatter of silverware hitting the cafe floor and bouncing underneath the table, and Shimmerlily took her time finding it again.

Twilight’s bed had been much too big just for her. Plenty of space to share it, even though Fluttershy insisted on pressing tight, legs entwined and finding inventive ways to bring more skin into contact with each second. Legs locked around each other’s waists, forelegs around each other’s necks.

A shower had been promised, at some point. But each slow, yawning kiss put it off another five, fifteen, fifty minutes. More intimate touches were nervous, curious, exploratory. There was no rush.

The fantasies they had both confessed to each other were wild, frenetic. A race to a wonderful finish.

This was different. The slow teasing for hours, filled with whispered compliments and reassurances. More in common with stoking embers than fanning flames.

Another difference they’d found, from the ideas they’d compared notes on. When it was with someone, really with someone, it was about spending as much time as possible in that perfect moment. It was about trying not to let it end.

But that wasn’t nearly as fun to think about, was it?