Saddle Upped

At first glance, it reminded him of Appleloosa or Dodge Junction, but just approaching the city was enough to show him how wrong he was.

The buildings were grand, even the most plain and utilitarian structures, carved from rock or constructed so efficiently that the stones stacked one atop the other were indistinguishable except for under obnoxiously invasive observation. The homes that would've been townhouses or terrace houses in Equestria were simple neat structures here, more like hard sandstone walls with windows and doors than externally identifiable properties, but the continuity and simplicity made the whole structure seem communal and strong and important. Some of them were rows encapsulating narrow streets, and some were square, squat places which might've been a community centre for worship or trade or entertainment, but all of them were bustling with life, guiding the spirit and direction of the city through a simple but unavoidable design.

The desert towns of Equestria were nice, of course, and he enjoyed his time visiting both to see friends and to conduct business. There was a simplicity and honesty to the frontier life, without any attempt at splendour or grandeur that was almost overbearing in densely populated urban centres like Canterlot and Manehatten, and the friendly, boisterous culture and personality of the ponies who lived at the edge of Equestrian civilisation was infectious and every bit as admirable and awe-inspiring as the wealthy performances and displays in the large cities. That being said, Saddle Arabia was easily a competitor to his home's simplicity and splendour, and the similarity towards the desert towns ended at the climate and local environment.

The largest buildings were visible from halfway across the city, constructed to be mesmerising and elegant, but entirely without the gold or other precious metals that would be used to mark wealth or status in Canterlot or Las Pegasus, or expertly carved wood that was common on Mount Aris. The buildings which didn't fall on the spectrum of off-white to burned orange were fitted and constructed with masonry and stonework that drew in the eye, blues and greens and reds which shone proudly in the bright light of the burning sun. Even those which lacked the painted or natural hues carried pillars and columns, balconies and balustrades, all shaped in exotic and beautiful displays that spoke to a beauty beyond understanding.

"It's such a waste," his companion complained. "All these amazing views and I can't photograph any of them."

"The Saddle Arabians don't like foreign visitors photographing them or their city," he reminded her, gently squeezing her claw in his. "For all they know, we could be spies. I know you didn't want to leave your camera behind, but they're still opening up to outsiders. Maybe in the future, they'll trust everycreature enough to change their stance, but for now, you're here, in the middle of hundreds of years of history. Enjoy the sights."

The griffoness quietly accepted his wisdom and squeezed his claw in return, walking alongside him as he led them down the wide busy streets, the avenue leading to the bustle of a bazaar. Where there had been traffic before, the densely packed stalls drew a bustling crowd, packing everyone into a haphazard bundle that struggled to move onward, each side attempting to bypass the prospective buyers halting in front of each stall. All they could do was move with the current, flowing sluggishly past the bellowing merchants and the cacophony of voices, the shouts of the sellers rising about the din of general conversation.

He didn't realise that anycreature was speaking to him at first, until the language became recognisible, switching from Saddle Arabia's native tongue to Ponish. "You! Dragon! Goods to take home?" That was unmistakble; he was the only dragon here, as far as he could see, and his kind was enough of a rarity in the kingdom - from what he understood from his research, at least - that the mention of a dragon would reasonably catch his attention regardless. Looking around, he spotted one of the merchants, who nodded emphatically when he saw the drake's eyes. "Yes, you! You want something good? Something to buy?"

"I'm good, thanks," he called back, smiling in a friendly rejection of the merchant's offer.

"Good choice, buy here instead!" called another voice from further down the row, another horse making his attempt.

"Thank you for the offer, but I don't need anything."

"They both not good, come buy!"

"No, over here!"

"Best goods! Best gifts!"

It was like he'd managed to flip a switch or trigger a trap; all of a sudden, the maelstrom of voices took form, targeting him in their attempt to reel him in. In that moment, he wondered if this was how a fish felt when they fell victim to an angler, or a fly landing in a spider's web.

"You really caught their attention," his companion muttered, looking around in surprise.

"Keep moving," he told her, pulling her onwards as inconspicuously as he could. "They've noticed we're tourists, that's all." She didn't argue as he pulled her through the crowd, doing their best to ignore the heckling calls from the horses aggressively peddling their wares. The demands for attention pressed in from both sides, from ahead and behind, overlapping voices insistently calling out to them until the individual sales pitches were indistinguishable, drowned out by their competitors. He looked around, trying to find respite among the throng, and spotted a gap in the bustle. Pulling his companion in that direction, he saw that the stall opened into a wider storeroom, full of other items, and a horse who smiled politely at them as they approached. Making his decision, he stepped inside, leaving the noise outside.

"Hello, my foreign friends," the horse spoke, bowing his head slightly. "What brings you to Saddle Arabia?"

"Business," the dragon answered. "I'm the Ambassador of Friendship from Equestria."

"Truly?" the horse asked, his eyes widening. "Then I must have your name! We don't usually have such distinguished guests in this shop."

"Spike," the drake answered, squaring his frame to look as important as he thought his role required. "Spike The Dragon. This is my girlfriend, Gabriella Griffon."

"My friends call me Gabby," the griffoness added. "Everycreature calls me Gabby, actually."

"It is a pleasure and an honour to meet you both," the horse told them. "I have seen many creautres pass through here, but never anycreature of importance. None have been so worthy as to peruse my wares, nevermind to bid on them!" He stepped closer, grinning brightly. "But of course, you are no strangers to such realities to life as a courtier. Please, come view what wonders I have to offer creatures of your prestige, Mister Spike." He gestured further in his shop, beckoning them motionlessly.

"Thank you, but-"

"I insist," the horse pressed, grabbing an object from a shelf. "The finest wares are only suitable for the finest of creatures, and you truly are the finest of creatures, Mister Spike. In truth, I have not seen a male dragon pass through this street with my own eyes, much less an ambassador of such a prestigious nation as yours."

"That's nice of you, but-"

"You're in need of a map of the city, I presume?" the horse cut in, pulling a large, folded sheet from among several others. "It will be necessary to conduct your affairs while you are here."

"That won't be-"

"But of course!" the horse gasped, shaking his head as if he'd made a grand mistake. "You already have a map! Your foresight would have equipped you with the wisdom to bring such a map, or a guide! Forgive me, Mister Spike. Instead, why not a gift for your beautiful and wonderfully meek female? Miss Gobby deserves only the best, after all."

"It's Gabby, and-"

"Here, sir; rosewater-flavoured comforts, freshly produced and only offered to stallions of great standing. They would make an excellent offering to someone special, no?" He swapped the paper for a wooden box, opening its lid to reveal a stack of cubes, a saccharine fragrance diffusing into the space of the shop and tickling Spike's nostrils. He wrinkled his snout, the scent clinging to his nasal as insistently as the shopkeeper clung to his sales pitch.

"I'm not looking to buy anything," Spike told the horse. "I'm here on business, and I'm waiting for a friend. Maybe later, when I've finished, I'll come back and buy something. Thank you for your offers, but we should really get going." He nudged Gabby towards the entrance, taking a step back himself.

"Oh, but I am sorry, good sir," the horse hummed, stepping around the duo with a dexterity that surprised the drake. "I have a minimum purchase policy, and you can't leave until you have purchased at least one item. Perhaps you could reconsider on these delicious treats here?"

"A minimum purchase policy?" Spike repeated, his route outside blocked by the vendor. "Where does it say that?"

"It's the norm of this market, I am afraid," the horse explained with a shrug. "It is normal, and I didn't want to insult someone as widely travelled as yourself by pointing out what is obvious here. I'm afraid there's nothing that I can do about it, though."

"But isn't this your shop?" the drake asked, frowning. "Surely you can do something about it. We could just leave and come back later when we have more time."

"There's plenty of time," the horse insisted, stepping closer, his smile stretching unnaturally across his muzzle. "Or a quick purchase of these goods here, if you wish to hurry. If you don't have enough to pay the full price, I will generously allow you to pay with whatever coin you have on you at this moment."

"I'm not just going to give over my money," Spike asserted, quirking an eyebrow at the horse opposite him. There was a moment of silence, and something changed in the horse's countenance. His expression remained the same, but the brightness in his eyes dimmed, something tightened, and he muttered something in his native language that Spike couldn't understand. He felt Gabby clutch his arm a little more firmly, and glanced over to check she was okay.

"Ah wouldn't go 'round sayin' things like that, if ah were you," a low, powerful voice intoned, commanding the attention of the shop and drawing everyone's eyes to the speaker. The horse balked at the sight of the new arrival, tensing subtly. "It ain't polite, is it?"

"I suppose I may have mispoke," the shopkeeper agreed, keeping his tone level. "I did not realise that you were in the city, Mister MacIntosh."

"Ah am," Mac told him, nodding at Spike. "An' this here dragon has business with me."

The horse's posture tensed far more noticeably, and he snapped his head towards the drake with a swiftness that betrayed his shock. Spike couldn't help but smirk as the horse's eyes widened in panic, his demeanour changing instantly to something far removed from the suave, cocksure stallion who'd attempted to force a sale.

"I-I did not realise you were friends with Mister MacIntosh," the merchant spoke, his speech wavering. "A hundred, a thousand apologies, Mister Spike, and to your radiant female, too."

"Her name is Gabby," Spike told him, pointedly. "Thank you for your time, but we'll be leaving now. Maybe we'll come back later." Taking hold of Gabby's claw, he stepped past the horse and towards the exit, falling in behind the red pony who'd come to their rescue. "Your timing's impeccable. How'd you find us?"

"Ain't hard to find a tourist in Saddle Arabia," Mac answered, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth. He moved with the easy confidence of somepony who'd been here multiple times, who knew the street layout well enough to navigate it with his eyes closed. "A dragon tourist? Easier than findin' a fox in a henhouse."

"Thanks for the rescue," Spike added. "And for agreeing to be my sponsor of sorts. Twilight wanted to write me a guide, but when I realised the contents page was five pages-"

"You realised that maybe there was a better way to go 'bout it," Mac surmised.

"Yeah," the drake confirmed. "Thanks for coming out to help me. Having someone who knows the place is way better than a list. At least I don't have to worry about carrying around a pony."

"S'nothin'," Mac assured him casually, turning from the market onto a quieter side street. "Ah had business of my own here anyway, seemed only right t'offer my help, 'specially since it's for a good cause."

That was something Spike liked about his friend; Mac was easygoing and always ready to help, and most of all, he didn't brag or make a huge deal out of it. It was as natural as breathing to the stallion. It was no wonder he'd been able to attract the affection of two females, both of whom were here with him, along with another two he recognised.

He'd spoken to them many times before, but only had a few conversations properly with Mac's wives. Zemballa was quiet and introverted, and while she was never withdrawn or awkward, she didn't instigate anything. Gaia more than made up for that, though, and whenever Mac wasn't in the room, he found that the spunky griffon rivalled Pinkie Pie or even Gabby in terms of liveliness. She simmered down when in her husband's company, like she was now. What was entirely new, and completely unexpected, was their garments, which were a farcry away from their usual casual Equestrian attire.

Silk and cloth streamed down their legs, cutting an elegant look that seemed to occupy something between a skirt and trouser legs, the slender shape visible through the transluecent material. Tassels adorned their hips, swaying with their sashaying gait, and their midriffs were mostly bare, save for a wrap that maintained their dignity around their chests. It wasn't the sort of look he'd have expected them to don, especially not in Saddle Arabia, which seemed to have a particular series of sentiments regarding modesty, which was something Gabby, ensconced in her Abaya, verified with her mere presence. That alone was an oddity, but doubly so was the presence of another mare he knew.

"Hi Applejack," he greeted, his eyes roaming over her body instinctively. How couldn't he? He'd never seen her dress so brazenly effeminate before, and he'd never have guessed she looked so fitting. He could've sworn she'd been far more muscular than she currently was, memories of her sharply toned abs imposing themselves over her presently soft belly. "I didn't know you'd be coming along. Did Twilight ask you to keep an eye on me?"

"We came as a family," Mac answered for her, gesturing to his other sister, who, like Gabby, was swaddled in the traditional garb of their host kingdom. "Ain't no reason to leave my family behind when ah'm headin' out for work, far as ah see it."

"Darn tootin'," Applejack agreed, beaming at the sight of the drake. "Good to see ya, Spike. An' you too, Gabby."

As the griffon greeted the farmgirl pleasantly, Spike's eyes drifted over to the other female present in the small group. Like Gabby, she was dressed in an Abaya, the synthetic cloth wrapped around her body and head, leaving only her face on display. Spike recognised who it was, but there was still a moment of uncertainty from the complete lack of mane which usually cascaded down her back in a neat ponytail, much like her older sister's. The aramanth was bright and unmistakble, its absence as loud as its presence, and she looked different with just the grayish olive of her coat.

"Weren't my choice to wear it," she grumbled at his stare, shaking her head. "Good to see ya, Spike."

"You too, AB," he responded, smiling at her. Her comment tingled in his mind, replaying in a soft whisper as the seven of them began their walk away from the bustle of the market, led by their reliable guide. It didn't fade away, like an echo would, but rolled around again and again, even as the others fell into talk, asking about how they'd been and what they'd been up to. Spike answered politely, giving them as much attention as he could, but the curiosity in his head refused to leave. "Mac?" he said at last, stepping towards the front of the group. The big red pony nodded, conveying his attention nonverbally. "I have a question. Why do Gabby and Apple Bloom have-?"

"Have to wear traditional garb while my wives don't?" he interrupted, guessing what was going through the younger male's head. "Ah thought the exact same thing when ah first came here. Seems strange, havin' grown up in Equestria."

"It seems a bit arbitrary," Spike admitted, casting glances back every few seconds at the females in their entourage. "The choice...or compulsion?...is between restriction or exposure?"

"You don't seem to mind it too much," Mac pointed out, chuckling as the drake coughed awkwardly and deliberately turned to face ahead, focusing with an exaggerated concentration on their route. "Ah can't blame you; it's involuntary, as much as you might have objections at first. What you gotta understand is that they're dressed that way because it shows that they're different, granted a special privilege. In my case, they're my wives-" A barest hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips. "-an' my sister, an' because they're dressed up in this way, there's no confusion 'bout who they are. They won't ever be bothered by anycreature here. Can't promise the same 'bout Gabby an' Bloom, 'cept when we accompany them."

"Why can't Gabby and Apple Bloom wear the bridles?" the dragon asked. They were easy to spot, and since Mac had first come back from Saddle Arabia years ago, he'd never seen Applejack, Gaia, or Zemballa without the identifying band across their muzzles. Over time, he'd grown used to them, seeing it as just another characteristic of theirs, like Applejack's hat, or Twilight's wings.

"It ain't as easy as just slippin' one on," Mac explained. "It's a sign of commitment, an' each creature has to show they're ready t'accept the resposibility it shows."

"Like a sign of citizenship?"

"Kinda, 'cept you don't have to be a citizen to wear one. It's more like acceptin' the customs of the kingdom an' agreein' t'act accordingly."

"So an oath?"

"Eeyup," Mac agreed. "Somethin' like that. Wearin' it shows you've taken an oath, an' that gives you a higher status."

"And anycreature can take this oath?"

"Eeyup."

They walked along in thoughtful silence for a moment, the drake processing the information. It made sense, intuitively, even if he didn't understand the strange custom. Then again, that was why he was here; his job was all about mending divides between disparate peoples, and he knew from experience that arose in the faultlines of sapient behaviour, where competing or new ideas and values met. Not understanding everything was not only fine, it was innevitable, but his path forward could only ever be to learn what he could. With that in mind, he dropped back to the bridled females, asking a few questions about what the bridle meant to them. Unfortunately, they were rather tight-lipped - or, in the case of Gaia, tight-beaked - about the whole thing. The only thing he could learn from them was that donning the bridle gave one a new perspective, and that they wouldn't change their choice for anything in the world. Hearing that from Applejack surprised him, but he accepted it.

"It still seems strange to me," Gabby commented, keeping her voice low so as to not offend the three females ahead. "Flaunting about in something that shows off your body like that? Why can't they wear skirts, or jeans, or blouses, or anything else?"

"Climate?" Spike proposed. "Cultural norms?"

"It's gotta be better than wearin' this," Apple Bloom commented, an almost imperceptible tremor in her tone. Her view rested on the silk-clad females ahead, eyes flicking from zebra to griffon to pony and back again, apple-shapped tassels hanging from the hips to show their familial relationship, each one perfectly suited to their wearer; Applejack's red was a natural choice, as was Zemballa's green, and Gaia's gold. The sight of them was having something of an effect on the youngest sibling, it seemed, if her uncharacteristic quietness and withdrawn terseness was anything to go by.

"Are you okay?" the dragon asked, frowning at his friend. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was feeling resigned to something, or worrying about something in her near future. He couldn't figure out what she'd have to be worried about, and the more he observed her, the more he thought he recognised that same nervous energy she used to display when she was young and trying to save face in front of her friends when they were about to do something foolhardy. He hadn't seen her look like that for years.

"Ah'm fine," she answered, far too quickly. "Ah'm just hot. It's real hot here, y'know?"

The drake had no choice but to let his curiosity go unsated as they drew closer to their destination, what must've been the building where his objective lay rising up above the surrounding houses. It was tall, clearly a mansion of some sort, and surrounded by a wall high enough to block any view that a passing creature might've wanted to steal into the property. It was one of the most magnificent buildings around, at least in terms of housing.

His attention was diverted from the bannistered roof by a greeting in the local language, and Mac's voice answering in kind. Looking down, he saw a horse, about the same size as the tall red pony, but far less sturdily built, approaching, all smiles and warmth. Big Mac, too, was beaming, extending his hand in a friendly greeting and grasping the horse's own firmly, chatting away with more vigour than it was usual to hear from the stoic earth pony. If he could've understood what was being said, he probably would've heard the usual pleasantries and platitudes being exchanged, before the pony gestured towards Spike himself, and the horse turned his attention to the group.

"Ambassador Spike," the horse greeted, approaching with a wide, pearly smile, all charm and confidence. "Mister McIntosh has told me many things about you. It is an honour to finally meet you. I am Tajir Hisan. As-salaam 'alykum."

"As-salaam 'alykum," Spike replied, feeling a swell of pride at his mostly-flawless iteration of the foreign phrase which he'd practiced constantly since he'd learned that he was heading to Saddle Arabia. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir. Big...Mister McIntosh has told me a lot about you, too. I'm glad we're finally able to meet." He extended a claw to the horse, who took it carefully, but with a firm grip.

"Unfortunate to have to meet under such a context, but I believe it would be difficult to meet in good circumstances, yes?" Tajir continued. His accent was melodic, never quite disappearing, but weaving into his words until it was hard to tell whether he was speaking what was intuitively his second language. It was calming, the sort of voice that made a listener like him.

"Hopefully we'll be able to turn that around," the drake responded. He wasn't sure entirely how they'd do that - Yakyakistan and Saddle Arabia were in the middle of a trade dispute, and the dragon hadn't needed to be briefed to instinctively know that the problem was their clashing cultures - but it was his job, and he took that seriously. Besides, he couldn't be expected to have a solution to every problem right away. Sometimes, resolutions took time, and the bigger the challenge, the more satisfying the conclusion, if his life with Twilight and their friends had taught him anything. "By the time I leave, we'll be able to say we met in good circumstances."

"Yes, yes," the horse laughed, clasping Spike's claw with his other hand. "I can see you are exactly the creature we need for this task. Come, effendi, we shall begin at once." Letting go of his guest, Tajir turned and walking towards the mansion, his pace slow enough to allow the dragon to follow without feeling like he was being commanded.

"This is my stop, guys," Spike told the group, turning to face them once again. Gabby was smiling at him, clearly proud of her boyfriend's position of responsibility. He smiled back, his eyes falling on Apple Bloom, who was still displaying that restrained anxiety he'd picked up on. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Ah'm fine," the earth pony answered, simultaneously too flat and too heightened. "Ah'll get some water an' shade, an' ah'll be fine by the time you get back."

"I'll make sure she's okay," Gabby promised before Spike could formulate a reply. "You focus on being the ambassador Equestria needs you to be, okay?" She leaned in and kissed his on the cheek, smooching him powerfully for such an innocent gesture. "Knock 'em dead, big boy." Between her smile and words, Spike couldn't help but blush and grin goofily, uncaring as to what image his was supposed to be presenting.

"Yeah, I will," he promised, kissing her claw affectionately. "See you later, everypony. Make sure she's safe."

"Eeyup," Mac promised, the one word exuding a certainty that Spike knew he could trust.

"Ah'll see you later, Spike," Apple Bloom said, stepping forward and squeezing his arm. The gesture brought a pause to the drake, but he dismissed it and patted her shoulder, smiling comfortingly down at the mare.

With a wave, he turned and jogged after Tajir, catching up to the horse halfway to the mansion. Before he'd even set foot in the house, his thoughts had turned entirely to the task ahead, his visage growing serious and confident. He had a job to do, and he was so up for it.

The sight of the drake walking towards the gates of the large house, equal in height - and probably status - as the horse next to him filled Big Mac with a vicarious pride he'd felt before when watching his family achieve great things. Spike was a friend, but in a lot of other ways, he was family, too. He remembered the pint-sized, squeaky-voiced youth who'd landed in Ponyville about a decade ago, too small to be lanky or srawny, but lacking in any sort of muscle or masculine features. Now, that same boy was tall and broad, boasting a wingspan that rivalled an alicorn, bearing muscles that shaped his clothes, and was entrusted with maintaining and developping relationships between nation states. Mac had watched him grow, and now seeing him so far along, it was hard to not feel some level of admiration for the young male.

"You sure 'bout doin' this?" he asked without turning his head as the gates closed, and the group was left watching the facade of the building. "You've said you know what it entails, but there ain't no goin' back afterwards."

"Ah'm sure."

"Sure about what?" Gabby asked, her voice curious with a dash of concern. "This sounds serious."

"It ain't nothin' you need to worry 'bout," Mac assured her. "Apple Bloom has an appointment, an' we'll go do somethin' while it's happenin'."

"While what's happening?" Gabby pressed. "I don't want to pry, but no going back afterwards sounds like it's a bit more than just an appointment."

"It ain't my place to say," the stallion answered, turning to the females in his group. "If AB wants to tell you, ah ain't gonna stop her." There was a few seconds of silence as the group's attention turned to the young mare, Gabby's expression full of expectant curiosity even as she tried to avoid staring too intently. Mac waited, indifferent to the outcome provided his sister made the choice herself.

"You heard what Spike asked about the way Zemballa, Gaia, an' my sister were dressed, right?" she asked at last. Gabby nodded. "An' Big Mac said that it had to be a committment, an' that you had to show you were ready t'accept the responsibility that came with it? Ah'm takin' the plunge. Ah'm gonna go get my bridle."

"That doesn't sound life-changing at all," the griffoness mused after several seconds, realising that there wasn't any more to be said. "Not that I mean it doesn't mean anything, or that it isn't special, just that for your brother to say that you couldn't go back, and you had to be sure, it seems melodramatic. No offence." She blinked as the other griffoness in the group giggled at the remark.

"It's a whole lot more than just that," Gaia told her gleefully. "When it's put on, you-"

"Gaia," Mac warned, a sharpness to his rolling, relaxed tone. "Ain't your place."

"Sorry," she apologised immediately, looking contrite for a brief moment before springing back to her bubbly self. "Apple Bloom will tell you if she wants."

"Are you sure you wanna know?" the earth pony asked, able to tell before Gabby fixed her with a questioning gaze what was on her mind. "It ain't anythin' we're used to. It might freak you out, a lot."

"I promised Spike I'd take care of you," she reminded the mare. "And now I'm starting to wonder what's wrong with you. Whatever it is, I want to know. I promise I won't freak out. Cross my heart and hope to fly."

"She can explain while we walk," Mac told the group, stepping around them and heading further down the street to their destination. "We've gotta get goin' if we're gonna be done in time." He heard the confused muttering from the griffoness behind him, asking where they were going and what it was that required them to have a timeframe. Apple Bloom took several attempts before she found a good place to start.

Having been to the capital of the kingdom multiple times already, the red stallion was familiar with its layout and architecture, and was able to make his way around without paying too much attention. He still liked to admire the sights of city, and so as he walked and took in the beauty of the kingdom's finest urban centre, he listened in on his sister's explanation. She did a good job of explaining something so strange to someone who wasn't accustomed to the culture of the Saddle Arabians, especially something that could easily turn a creature away in disgust and horror. For her part, Gabby deserved recognition for holding her composure despite the shock and surprise evident in her wavering questions.

He wasn't sure when Apple Bloom had learned what the bridles were, but she'd been aware before he knew she knew, and by extension, she knew what his relationship entailed. Naturally, she knew what that meant about his bond to Applejack, but she'd taken it with a good amount of grace, shrugging it off after a brief period of discomfort that was only apparent to Mac in retrospect. The only reason he'd found out how much she knew was because she'd sat them down one evening and outright told them, and that had been because she wanted to convince them to allow her to undertake the same conversion. Hearing that had been a mixed bag, but after establishing that she was certain, that she'd wanted it for a while after having seen just how fulfilled her older sister had become compared to how she'd been before, Mac gave his consent. Applejack had been thrilled, and it had been largely down to her that he was convinced to give the youngest Apple permission to travel to Saddle Arabia and undergo the process.

He hadn't told her he thought he knew why. She'd been honest enough to come forward and admit to having known about the bridles for a while, so he didn't see any point in telling her he knew she wanted to do it to chase the same feelings she'd had when she'd been infatuated with Spike. The two had thought they were discreet and clever, wandering into the orchard five minutes after one another, and returning five minutes after the other, smiling and trying hard not to hold hands as they returned to work. It was a sweet, innocent, teenage romance, one that had seen the young drake around Sweet Apple Acres almost as much as he'd been around Carousel Boutique when he was crushing on Rarity, and Mac found it both amusing and endearing. He liked the drake; he came from good stock and had a good heart, and the help was very much welcome. It was a shame Apple Bloom's life had seemed to be going in a different direction, stuck on the farm to help its expansion, or else they might've ended up together. She clearly missed what she'd felt back then.

Gabby's questions and Apple Bloom's answers fell into silence for the final stretch of the journey, the griffoness clearly deep in thought about the revelations. He couldn't say he blamed her, considering his own reaction when he'd first heard about what they entailed. Coming to a stop in front of an unassuming wooden door on a street corner, the stallion turned to the females behind him, his eyes falling on his younger sister.

"Last chance," he spoke, making sure she was looking at him. "Think real hard 'bout this. Are you absolutely sure this is definitely what you want?"

"It is," Apple Bloom answered, nodding emphatically. "Ah've wanted it for a while, and ah ain't turnin' back now." She balled and unballed her fists, the nervous energy running through her not even remotely close enough to dampen her wishes. Behind her, Applejack beamed with pride, looking almost like she was about to shed a tear or two, while his other two wives looked on with more reserved approval.

"Alright, then let's-"

"Wait."

Their eyes turned to Gabby, who'd spoken suddenly, the young griffoness looking oddly conflicted about something.

"Gabby, ah'm sure 'bout this, ah really am," Apple Bloom promised. "Ah'm not-"

"I-I want to do it too!"

"What?" the mare asked, startled by the exclamation. "You wanna get processed too?"

"Y-yes." She swallowed. "I-I think I do."

"It ain't somethin' you should do on a whim," Mac warned. "It's a permanent choice. It ain't for everycreature, an' if you've decided on doin' it just after you've heard 'bout it from a friend, it probably ain't a good time to make that choice."

"Ah wasn't exactly given a choice," Applejack pointed out. "An' ah'm glad ah wasn't; do you think a stubborn mare like me would've agreed to it if ah'd had a choice?"

"That's different," Mac dismissed. "That was a punishment. This is Spike's henfriend we're talkin' about. Ah can't just hand her back all changed, can ah?"

"What if I make that choice myself?" the hen asked. "What if I want to go back changed?"

"Ah promised ah'd keep you safe," Mac told her. "Ah said ah'd keep you out of trouble. Lettin' you go makin' a choice like this in a strange new land without knowin' the consequences ain't keepin' you safe."

"The consequences, right," Gabby noted. Turning to the three older females, she looked them up and down. "What does it feel like, wearing the bridles?"

"Amazing, all the time," Gaia answered immediately. "Everything's sunny and colourful, and nothing gets you down. I hear other creatures talking about having a 'bad day at work', and I genuinely can't relate! The only time I feel bad is when I feel bad for creatures who aren't wearing a bridle, because it must be super awful!"

"Are you still you?" Gabby pressed. "Are you, like, erased, and somecreature else takes you place? Or is it still you in there?"

"When you were a child, you were different from how you are now," Zemballa explained. "When you wear the bridle, it's like that change is made again. You're more aware, more sensitive, more receptive. Wiser."

"An' it don't wear off," Applejack added, gently stroking Gabby's side. "It's like every day is Hearth's Warmin', 'cept it don't ever get old. You'll live for the simple things, like words of affection, cuddlin', an' just bein' a good wife. It's paradise, sugarcube." She stroked a thumb across Gabby's cheek, then stepped back, having made her point.

"Ah'm not sayin' it's a bad choice to make," Mac told the Abaya-clad griffon. "Ah'm sayin' it shouldn't be done on a whim or just because there's a lotta good in doin' it. It's a permanent change, an' you need to make sure it's somethin' you'd never regret."

"Why are you doing it, AB?" the griffoness asked.

"Ah saw how much more fulfilled my sister was after the change," the earth pony answered, truthfully. "She ain't changed much else in her life, but she's much happier now. Ah want to feel what that's like, to find somepony who'll settle down with me, an' from what ah can tell, this is somethin' which'll help me." She looked the other female up and down. "An' you?"

"I know what I want from my life; I love Spike, and I'm marrying him." The griffoness looked from Apple Bloom to Big Mac, her visage plastered with sincerity. "I want more than anything to build a life with him, and to raise a family together. I can't do that if I can't give him children. The bridle gives me the ability to bear his children, doesn't it?"

"Yes, but-"

"I'll have strong, healthy children, with the drake I love, and all I need to do is submit myself to a process that makes me receptive? If all it does it make me want to serve his every need, to stay at home and cook and clean and raise the children, to be a mother, then it won't be doing anything to me; I already want that. All it'll do is make it possible. Trust me, Mister McIntosh, I've thought long and hard about this - it's everything I want."

There was a pregnant silence from the group as the griffon finished her speech, making it clear to all of them that she wouldn't budge from her position. The stallion had to admit that he wasn't unmoved by her plea; in terms of the reasons she'd given, they were far from the most superficial or baseless for choosing an irrevocable path. In fact, she seemed to understand exactly what she was signing up to, and due to his sister's expert explanation of what it entailed, he couldn't even say she'd gotten lucky and guessed. Nodding his head, he let out a sigh.

"Fine," he agreed. "You can go in together, support each other through it. But you're writin' a note for Spike so he knows that you did this of your own free will."

"Anything, sir," the griffoness said, nodding enthusiastically, her face a mask of determination, pride, and underneath it all, apprehension. The stallion felt a slight stirring in his loins at her utterance of the honorific, conditioned by his own griffon to react whenever she praised him.

"Alright. If that's all done..." He knocked on the door four times, an even rhythm that signalled what he was here for, and after a few seconds, the lock clicked and the door opened silently inwards. Leading the way, he stepped into the dimly-lit stairway, his hooves clacking loudly against the stone steps. Soon into his descent, he heard the lighter clack of hooves following him down, all the way to the bottom, where another door awaited. A further four knocks, and a voice asked him for his name and business there; he answered in their language, explaining who he was and who was keeping him company. The door opened immediately, and he was welcomed into a clean, spacious room, easily twelve feet from floor to ceiling, and forty feet from corner to corner.

"Fancy," Applejack commented approvingly as she joined him, whistling at some of the decorations. "Far nicer than ah had, that's for sure."

"You didn't deserve fancy or nice," Mac reminded her.

"Eenope. Ah'm glad they got it, though."

The door was closed behind the entourage, and Mac pulled some paper and a quill from a table and handed it to Gabby, reminding her of her promise. After a few words of advice, she scrawled a message to Spike and handed the paper back to the big red stallion for him to deliver, before being guided to the far end of the room, where pots of oil and slender attendants waited patiently. The stallion watched the two young females as they were welcomed by the attendants, all of whom were females, equally scantily dressed and bridled; finished artwork crafting more art.

Hands glided across Mac's trousers, brushing his thigh and sailing playfully over his groin, sweeping over a more prominent rise with every pass. More hands joined in; talon-tipped claws teased over his hips and over his buttocks, soft palms dipped between his legs to cup and rub his jewels, and his three wives pressed themselves closer to him, asking an obvious question without speaking. Silently, he relented, seating himself on a cushioned chair and making no moves to stop the groping attention as it grew more insistent, tugging at his zipper and trying to coax their goal from him. It didn't take long for them to win against the inflexibility of his member, winning against the straining tension and opening his fly so they could fish his turgid baton from its resting place and stroke it to an even fuller size.

By the time the zebra and the orange pony had taken to their knees in front of him, offset to either side to give them the best angle to service him, Apple Bloom and Gabby had undressed, the pony's amaranth mane spilling down to the small of her back, and were being gently guided into the right position. They were nervous, shuffling akwardly and looking towards one another for assurance as they followed the instructions they were given, and their arms kept instinctively moving to cover themselves out of an innate sense of dignity and self-consciousness. It must've been strange to have to transition from enforced modesty to stoic expectation of nakedness, and Mac didn't envy their position. Still, it was temporary, and as soon as they'd been fully processed, they'd be comfortable in any situation, he knew.

His view was temporarily obstructed as Gaia pressed herself against him, smooshing her breasts against his head and running her claws through his mane, her talons scratching his scalp in a loving way. He couldn't stop himself from sticking his muzzle in her cleavage and shaking his head energetically, enjoying the pliant joy he was sandwiched between, the silk only adding to the wonder of it. He removed himelf after an appropriate period of indulgement, grasping one of her boobs in his broad hands and enclosing it between his fingers, feeling the supple roundness yielding to his touch as he kneaded. His other hand pushed bullishly past the fabric at her crotch, tugging to the side the obstructing stretches of cloth until he met the sodden folds of her delta, and plunged three fingers past her gate. She shuddered as he entered her, panting as he toyed with her goods. She welcomed him easily, parting for his intrusion, but he could feel her constricting around him. He loved how elastic she was, even after she'd given birth. Maybe she deserved to carry another child of his.

Putting those thoughts on the backburner, the stallion refocused his attention on Gabby and Apple Bloom; it was their time for attention, after all. Two stallions stood behind them, towering over the two and holding their arms up by the wrists, while the female attendants dipped cloths into the jars of oil and drew them across the coats of the volunteers. Even from here, Mac could see the young duo shivering and shaking, though from nerves, excitement, or the sensations of the oil, he couldn't tell. If he had to guess, it'd probably be a mixture of all three. He switched from one breast to the other, groping the previously untouched titty and grasping it firmly, enjoying the gasp from his griffon.

Because they lived together in the same household, Mac had grown used to seeing Apple Bloom, and knew her figure pretty well; she wasn't dissimilar to her older sister, having picked up on doing more of the work around the farm as she grew up, and so she'd developed the toned arms and legs of a mare used to hard work. Her belly was taut and flat with the barest hint of a six-pack, her bust was a moderate b-cup, and she had a slender form that wasn't as full or womanly as some other mares her age, like her friend Sweetie Belle. Still, she was lithe, with an attractive frame and a sort of womanly appeal that Applejack hadn't quite had prior to her own processing. He hadn't seen the griffoness in the buff before, though, and while he didn't spend much time ogling her - she was Spike's, after all, and he respected his friend's claim over the hen - he innevitably took in the sight of her as he watched them being washed down.

Gabby was lithe in all the ways Apple Bloom wasn't, which was to say that the hen had a different job that cultivated a different body shape. It was clear she still had an active lifestyle, though, from her equally moderate b-cups and trim belly, as well as the toned thighs and glutes, as best as he could see. Her hips were already an attractive width, and as he looked on, the earth pony imagined this might've been what Gaia looked like before she'd been improved; already attractive, but lacking the additional push that made her magnificent. No wonder she'd been so eager to undergo the alteration.

Slowly, the effects of the oil became apparent, as the two recipients' shaking became less jerky and far more fluid, like a languid writhing, and their chattering and panting became soft groans and whimpers. Their fur and feathers were slick, glistening from fingertips to their waists, and already they were stretching their necks back, arching their backs in response to the graceful mopping of their bodies and the thorough application of the liquid. It was fascinating to watch, especially with a full knowledge of what was happening to them thanks to his wives' frank and exhaustive description, and the skill and attention displayed by the females doing the washing was something spectacular to behold.

Zemballa had started deepthroating him by the time the two females were thoroughly and fully oiled, every crack and crevice treated with the tender touch of a professional with years of experience, and they were panting and gyrating against the air, their joyful whimpers flowing endlessly into the room. Their anxiety had entirely faded, their nervousness and any remaining reluctance washed away, and their shame had disappeared. They made occasional eye contact across the room, smiling dopily through their ordeal and staring as he was softly and slowly blown, the brazen indulgence doing nothing to faze them. If anything, they seemed to enjoy it, taking it as a premonition of their own eventual fate, and savouring that motivation to continue being touched and brushed and manipulated. There wouldn't be any deep penetration, of course - they'd been given very, very specific instructions, on pain of earning Mac's ire, should they ruin the females under his protection.

"You're doin' great," he encouraged, speaking to the room at large, and knowing everycreature would assume it was directed at that. Of course, that wasn't untrue, either; his wives were pleasuring him with the abject skill he knew they'd always have, the two females experiencing firsthand the pleasure of having their minds and bodies corrected were dutifully obeying their handlers, and the handlers themselves were professional and - in his modest opinion - immensely talented. It was as much of a treat to watch as it was to provide them all with the moral support of an ardent viewer. "Keep it up."

The treatment continued, gentle hands adjusting the females and shaping them for their total conversion into good, obedient servants, while the two mares between his legs suckled, slurped, and swallowed, cleaning his cock from the mess they themselves were making on it. There was plenty of time, he knew, shoving with a little more force and squeezing his fist into his griffon's box, feeling her lips stretch around the size of the insertion and kiss his wrist. He smiled as she stiffled a squawk, the produce of her orgasm rolling down his forearm. There was more than enough time to enjoy this, and see the process a good chunk of the way through, if not totally, before Spike's work was done. The stallion smirked and worked his arm, continuing to pleasure his griffoness and feed his other two wives a steady stream of pre from his leaking tool, the two females across the room slowly climbing towards a climax of their own. It was a beautiful, amazing performance, but he still felt a mild twinge of envy for Spike, who'd be receiving this surprise out of the blue.

Still, what were friends for, he rationalised, watching Apple Bloom squeal and thrash as she peaked, Gabby following a second later. There wasn't any gush, but from the way their expressions melted into a mess of abject joy and untarnished euphoria, they were over the moon, and well on their way, having to be held up by the males behind them. He felt himself begin to flare too, and let his head fall back as the tickling rise began in his nuts, the tongues redoubling their effort on his skin. They were all working hard, in their own way, but they had the advantage of enjoying the fruits of their labour right off the bat. As he gritted his teeth and began to throb, the tension bubbling over and beginning to surge, he knew he had to stay focused on why they were here.

This was the least he could do for Spike.