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                         Shy Skin                          
                        -by Osper-                         
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                         Shy Skin                          
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Shy Skin
Shy Skin
By
Osper
Her pink shades glinted in the bright sunlight of Ponyville, a pleasant enough little town but entirely too small for Photo Finish' taste. The warmth and the comfy pillow she was laying on came just that close to lulling her to sleep in the middle of the park as she waited for her assistants to finish making up her newest model, a yellow Pegasus named Fluttershy.
She had been made to wait entirely too long.
As nice as it was to have this all too unusual relaxation, she stood and walked towards the large pink tent she'd had set up. What could possibly be taking her assistants so long to dress one mare?
Sweeping the tent flap aside, she decided reasserting her personality over everypony might be just the thing to move the shoot along.
“Vhat is going on in here!? Dis shoot is already ten minutes behind schedule!”
As expected, High Style and Powder Rouge snapped to attention at their post, one on either side of the yellow Pegasus in the barber chair. The hair dresser and make up artist glanced at one another, sharing an unknown thought. Not unnoticed by Photo Finish she advanced on the two, playing up her angry artist bit to get things moving along.
“Come on, ve haf sings to do und pictures to take! You are both trying my patience!”
Fluttershy herself shrunk down in the seat at the angry tone, wishing more than anything to be anywhere that didn't have angry shouting.
The blue coated Powder motioned her head to the side, hoping Finish would lean in a little closer to hear the make-up artist's whisper. Just this once, she humored her.
“Vhat is it?”
“Well, High Style is doing fine but every time I go to brush Fluttershy's cheeks or apply anything, she squirms! Even if I just brush her, barely, she shakes and messes me up!”
“Ah, vun of dose. Okay, okay, I'll do somesing.”
The photographer waved High Style back a bit, standing before the new model and looking directly at Fluttershy.
“Dear, please look at me.”
Fluttershy looked up a bit,still quite scared of the pushy mare with the strange accent.
“I know I'm causing trouble. I'm sorry Miss Photo Finish. I'm really sorry.”
Finish gently grasped the model's chin, raising her face a little so they could look into one anothers eyes.
“Oh, don't vorry dear, just sit still und ve can start.”
Finish waved the make-up artist over again and stood by, watching as Powder rubbed one of the tinier brushes through a palette of light pink blush and gently stroked Fluttershy's face.
The pegasus gripped the edge of the seat, her cheeks burning brighter than the blush with every little stroke, each tiny bristle tickling her cheeks.
“Mmm...guh...nnn...”
The pegasus let out a long, shaky breath as the strokes shifted to the other side of her face.
“N-no!”
Fluttershy leapt from the seat, whirling on the surprised group with a look of pure red cheeked terror.
“I'm s-sorry! Do I really need the make-up? Can't we do without it!? Please?”
The strange looks from the three fashion professionals only served to deepen her embarrassment over her outburst, the yellow pegasus burying her face in her chest.
Putting a hoof to her mouth to decide whether being outright abusive to the timid model would help, Finish was the only one to notice the small puddle that had formed in the center of the barber chair, just under where Fluttershy had been sitting. One of two problems were evident here and she hoped it was the slightly less golden one.
“Flootershy, here.”
She nervously approached, still ashamed as she stood before the photographer. Raising one blue hoof, Finish pressed against Fluttershy's chest, stroking from her neck down to her chest bone in a slow motion.
The reaction was incredible, the yellow coat shivering under her touch and Fluttershy's tongue slipping from her mouth with the barest contained moan.
Yes, that was definitely the problem.
Leaving the trembling pony alone, Finish called her two assistants over, pulling them into a huddle. High Style, inquisitive as ever, was the first to ask.
“What was that Miss Finish?”
“She's very sensitive. All over her body.”
Powder nodded knowingly, hmming at the idea of a hypersensitive pony but Style just looked confused.
“So?”
Powder rolled her eyes, leaning in a little closer to her hair dressing friend.
“VERY sensitive. The kind of sensitive you save for the bedroom.”
“Sure, but why is she acting like she's-OH! Oh, wow! WOW! From just having her cheeks stroked?!”
Finally in on the embarrassing little secret, Style burned crimson herself.
“Ya. But ve can't do dis vithout de make-up und ve can't reschedule. Dese photos are already bought und paid for.”
The three turned to look at the pegasus who seemed to find something absolutely fascinating about her hooves from the way she kept her eyes glued to them.
“I vill handle dis. Style, set up dat curtain for changing. Powder get de radio vith...perhaps something classical? I have a plan. Go!”
They did as they were told and Finish put her nicest smile on, approaching Fluttershy.
“Umm...Flootershy, ve have...um....”
Just looking at the innocent mare melted the almost filthy words in Finish's mouth. How could she say something like this to her and those big bluish eyes?
This was no time for embarrassment! Summoning the deepest recesses of her commanding personality, Finish puffed her chest up and belted out in her most authoritative tone.
“Flootershy! I know about your problem! Und ve vill fix you!”
The pegasus' eyes went wide, her pupils shrinking to nothing as Finish laid it out.
“H-h-h-h-h-h-h-how are you g-g-g-g-going to do that?”
Grasping her hoof and lifting the sitting pegasus to stand, Finish led her to the newly erected round curtain dressing room.
“Ve can't powder und primp you unless ve touch you! Ve can't touch you unless you touch yourself first! Dis room shall be your release und de portal to your shtardom!”
Even Finish was blushing at her brazen words but she had a shoot to save and shame be damned! What was it good for?!
Powder placed a small radio just next to the entrance, light classical music playing on it.
“Now go! Please yourself so ve may please your fans!”
With that, the three turned their backs on the pegasus and strode away. They only got three steps before a very quiet, almost unnoticeable squeal that sounded suspiciously like wait stopped them.
There was no way Finish could be mad at Fluttershy. Well, perhaps just a tiny bit mad, but mostly envious of her condition and how unbearably adorable she was.
“I don't...I don't want to stop the shoot and cause you any...any trouble. And...and I'll...I'll do my best...but...I've never...I haven't...I...”
The blush seemed to be consuming the models whole body as she did nothing but stammer, trying her best to spit out the awful secret that had never been anyone's business and still wasn't.
But, darn it! Rarity wanted her to be a model...so maybe...just a little embarrassment was okay, for a friend.
“I don't know how. I'm sorry.”
The three fashion ponies looked amongst themselves before Style asked the obvious question.
“How to what?”
Fluttershy raises an arm, wiggling the forehoof up and down.
“To...m...to m...to mmm-m-m-m-.”
She practically choked on the word as she stammered, her tongue catching in her throat as the incredulous mares caught on.
Truly, there are no darker times for a commander than to see her troops confronted with an almost insurmountable problem. The uneasy looks shared by Style and Powder were almost enough to make Finish lose heart herself.
She grit her teeth and smiled a grim, almost sharp smile. Finish was a professional and nothing so simple as destroyed equipment or nervous models (or, in this case, easily aroused models) was going to stop her from doing her job.
Striking a hoof on the ground and pointing the other directly at the Fluttershy, she could feel the hot blood pumping through her veins!
“Girls! Vhat ve haf here is not a problem for us! Don't you feel any empathy for dis charming young mare? Flootershy, ve vill teach you! You vill no longer be a prisoner uf your shame but a vondrous butterfly who may bloom any time she pleases! Und bloom und bloom und bloom again!”
The two, inspired by this rousing speech stood firm in the face of adversity.
“Let us go! Ve do dis for mares everyvhere!”
In a rush they descended upon the wide eyed pegasus, opening the curtain and putting her into her own private room. The curtain whipped around, concealing the inhibited flower of a model within and giving her what little privacy she would get.
“Flootershy, step vun is simple! Sit back und shpread your legs!”
The curtain rustled a bit, Fluttershy caught up in the rush of action, feeling the support of the group grasp her timid heart. She could do this! Rarity was counting on her to be a famous model. She couldn't let her down!
“O-okay. I did it.”
“Good, good. Now, gently rub yourself vith your hoof. Either slow or fast, however you like.”
There was no sound behind the curtain, the three leaning over one another as they stared at the entrance to the curtain, none of them breathing as they waited for some kind of signal as to what was taking place inside.
An explosive moan rocked them back on their heels, the sound toppling them over into a pile.
Rising to her hooves, Finish approached again, light panting emitting from inside.
“How is it going? Tell me Flootershy!”
“I...I can't go on. It's too much!”
A steely look came over Finish' face. This was a challenge she had to overcome and Finish had never run from a challenge of any kind unless it involved large amounts of alcohol. Though a good stiff cider would have helped right then.
“No, Flootershy. Just be gentle vith your flower. Think uf a stallion you really like. Somepony dat really get's your body humming! You have such a stallion, ya?”
Nervous ums and hums came from the deep recess of the curtain.
“B-but I couldn't face them after...thinking of them like...y'know.”
The bold voice of Powder spoke up, the perfectly preserved pages of a magazine cracking the air as she held it aloft, pulled from her saddle pack.
“This is what we need! Playmare, pages upon pages of beefy, studly, handsome and mouth watering stallions ready to tease and please the idle mind and hooves!”
She wiped the sudden slick of drool from her mouth as she slid her magazine under the curtain. High Style stepped up next, the whip crack of fresh new pages being flipped in her hooves as she presented her own helpful paraphernalia.
“I also...may have just bought this new magazine in town. In case you need something else.”
Taking it in hoof, Finish looked over the cover, her eyebrow rising as she read the title.
“Hot Mares Und Dirty Dares?”
Style quickly grabbed it back, sliding it under the curtain for Fluttershy's perusal.
“Straight mares can like mare on mare action too!”
“Oh...uh...ya, uf course.”
The flip of pages was evident behind the thin wall quickly followed by gasps and mutters of 'oh my!' that came out as very shocked squeaks.
“Now, stroke your-”
“Butt!”
The photographer and hair dresser turned on Powder, incredible looks of 'what the hell' taking over their faces. The make-up artist huffed, turning her nose up.
“Well, I happen to like it.”
“Ve're not giving her anysing veird to do. Just shtroking und panting.”
“And squirting!”
At High Style's suggestion, Finish slapped a hoof to her own face.
“No! I am in charge here und it's just shtroking. Nosing else!”
The two assistants kicked at the dirt under the tent, disappointed at their quashed ideas.
“Fine.”
The rustling of the curtain, as though somepony were trying to get their attention, brought them back to the task at hoof.
“So...just rub...right here?”
Without any way to know where 'here' was, they just gave non-committal words of encouragement, relying on her hypersensitivity to make any spot 'the right spot'.
“Ya. Now, just go on. Rub even if it's too much. It's vell vorth it, trust me.”
They stood by, one above the other, as the almost imperceptible sound of pages being turned the only sound in the room. Sometimes many would flip at once, others just one at a time as the voyeurs kept their ears perked for any request of further instruction.
“Is everysing okay in dere?”
No answer came, just a continuous stream of panting that had started slowly and seemed to grow just the tiniest bit, littered with the word 'ah!'.
They leaned closer, the sound diminishing as time went on. A low whisper from High Style barely broke the silence.
“Do you think she likes the mares or stallions?”
“I dunno. Why don't you stick your rump in there and see if she grabs it?”
The hair stylist turned the most interesting shade of pink, despite her already pink color.
“I told you, I'm not like that!”
“Vould both uf you shut up? Honestly, you're acting like foals. Perverted foals.”
The massive moan shocked them into a falling mass of bodies and legs as they collapsed back on one another.
Heavy panting followed it and a slight rustling of the curtains as the tip of a yellow snout appeared, followed by burning red cheeks and brightly shining eyes.
“I...can't seem to feel my skin any more, Miss Finish. Everything is sort of...umm...I feel really...relaxed.”
Finish, disentangling herself from the pile-up first, approached the mare and looked her over. She had a definite sheen and her chest heaved but she fairly glowed with...post-blooming.
Finish swallowed at the sight. Without the makeup and the slightly tossed hair, she looked like a barely tamed animal filled with contentment.
A single tear slid down the photographer's face at the beauty of it all.
“Everyvun! Outside! Ve take de photos NOW! Go go go!”
Her assistants managed to stand, snapping off quick salutes and dragging the suddenly much mellower mare out the tent flap.
There was only so much time to catch such a look, a veritable fountain of excellent photos centered on la petite morte as Fleur de Lis was fond of saying.
But Finish stopped a moment, overtaken by the previously inane banter of her filthy minded assistants and what the shy mare had chosen.
The much dirtier magazine High Style had provided remained only slightly open, enough to know the pages had been rifled through. But the one Powder Rouge had provided, full of handsome strong stallions, still lay open to an article that brought a slight embarrassed blush to the photographers face.
A story about drag kings lay there, and the article teaser featured a blue earth pony, a bit small but with a devilish, lusty smirk and short silver hair swept back with gel. Sharp, angular looking glasses with pinkish-purple lenses were clipped to 'his' jacket.
She quietly picked it up, putting it under the other dirty magazine before the cries of her assistants called her back to what was at hoof.
“She's coming down off her high, Photo Finish! C'mon! Uh...please c'mon, Boss!”
Photo Finish smirked as she stepped out. She still had it.