Rarity was acting... off. Different. Something had changed, but Anonymous couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He didn’t know it when he first appeared in Equestria, that the classy, gracious mare would become something of a fixture in his new life. Sure, Lyra was friendly and accommodating enough, if a bit obsessive. Turns out humans were something of a mythical creature in this world. Who knew? At the very least she mellowed out not long after and once the novelty wore off, she then began to see him more as a friend and less a prized project. Not that it stopped her bombarding him with all kinds of questions at any and all times, or wanting to run some sort of test or project on him.

Bon Bon was mostly baffled. The princesses kept in touch with him—which came as a bit of a surprise—mostly in the form of letters, where they... genuinely seemed to want to know how he was doing and adjusting to Equestrian society. Benevolent, immortal, semi-omnipotent demi-goddesses genuinely caring for him? Wanting to know how he was doing? A new experience to be sure but then again, Equestria was chock full of those.

The physics really threw him off at first in those early days, especially after seeing the hyperactive Pinkie Pie in action and the seemingly casual way she chose to ignore the fundamental laws of the universe, nearly giving him a heart attack at the way she popped out of the mailbox and eagerly introduced herself, all but demanding to give him a ‘Welcome to Ponyville Party’.

And gravity... felt lighter? Ponies were surprisingly light for their size, with him being able to comfortably pick up Lyra with one arm.

The world and its strange laws even had an effect on him. Rainbow Dash invited him to watch her practice some new stunt she’d cooked up, hoping to impress the resident alien and bask in his admiration. Anonymous would admit the braggart mare had every right to be smug, pulling off spectacular maneuvers with practiced ease. Somewhere along the way, something went wrong. Maybe a stray gust of wind, or a miscalculated turn, or a wingbeat that came too late. Rainbow had been cagey regarding the details, but it resulted in her veering wildly off-course and crashing headfirst into him at blinding speeds. By rights he should’ve died immediately, his sternum pulverized, and insides turned to mush, yet he and a dazed Rainbow stood up with nothing more than a rattled noggin to show for it.

And Twilight... well, she was batshit crazy. At least that had been his first impression.

In this seemingly endless expanse of eccentric, awe inspiring, nonsensical—and occasionally scary— ponies, Rarity stood out as a bit of an outlier. Sure, she could be a bit... well, extra from time to time, but by and large, she maintained a casual, grounded demeanor, barely batting an eye at his supposed alieness. She was kind and easy to talk to and overall just pleasant to be around. Anonymous quickly grew fond of her.

Hell, she even went to great pains to explain how the not-yet-then princess was in fact, not an unhinged and voracious sexual predator, but rather an enthusiastic and well-meaning student of friendship and magic. Celestia’s protégé, even. Definitely not the Element of Wisdom, if that botched spell of hers was anything to go by.

He thought for sure he’d get sacked on the spot (and arrested, to that effect), what with the state Aloe had found him and Twilight in, but he learned later on that the little mare, blushing up a storm and looking for all the world as if she wanted nothing more than for the earth to come alive and swallow her whole, assured the spa ponies the full brunt of fault rested on her alone, and Anonymous did nothing wrong

Miraculously enough, his employers accepted the truth as Twilight laid it out and chose not to fire him. And life went on for a while. Sure, some ponies were hesitant to be massaged by him at first. He couldn’t completely blame them. Steadily, more and more of them chose to give him a chance, where they gradually pivoted from being wary to very friendly indeed. The mares especially so. Rarity, Fluttershy and Twilight had been quite vocal during their sessions. He chalked it up to ponies being weird. He came to learn this was not the exception, but the rule. Yet as the days passed and his proficiency at the craft grew, his clients’ exclamations of contentment and happiness gave way to something... lewder.

It didn’t take too long for his client list to be filled up with starry-eyed mares, eager for him to get his hands on them and work their magic. That would be fine, if it weren’t for their increasingly inappropriate hints and requests. Hints and requests as to where he could put those hands and fingers of his to better use.

Not being a horse fondler or wanting to keep dealing with increasingly aggressive and pushy mares, Anonymous quit his job altogether. Aloe and Lotus had been sad to see him go, but understood well enough.

Now out of a job and back at square one, he pondered his options on what to do next. Cutie marks were an unofficial but important factor on one’s job prospects. With no mark to his name, Anonymous decided to brush up on other accessible skills and it was in this process he began to realize some weird force was at play.

For one, he picked things up incredibly quickly. The kitchen sink in the house he shared with Lyra and Bon Bon had been acting up lately, but the two ponies had no idea how to fix it. They considered putting out a flyer in the communal board, hoping to catch the eye of anypony who had a passable knowledge of plumbing, with nothing to show for it.

Seeing a potential opportunity, Anonymous took it upon himself to fix it. Granted, he had no idea how, but he managed to scrounge up a wrench, some pliers and other assorted tools and spent the better part of the afternoon on his knees under the sink, emerging triumphant some time later. The water never flowed better.

He had a suspicion and nothing more, but decided to test it out, keeping an eye out on the house and any prospective opportunities for a fix-up. Of these he found plenty. The house, as with most others in Ponyville, were generational hand-me-downs (hoof-me-downs? Eh…) built decades ago during the initial founding, and though well-cared for, began to show their age.

The wooden beams that comprised the wattle-and-daub fashion of their house showed signs of wear and termites. Anonymous took them down and replaced them with fresh new beams. Plenty of floorboards squeaked or groaned or whined. These too got shiny new replacements, as did a wobbly table leg, bathroom tiles, roof supports and more. All this he accomplished with no prior knowledge or experience, going instead by trial and error and whatever ‘felt right’.

It was at this point that he brought up the issue with Lyra, who squeed at the opportunity, eager to learn more about him and solidify her position as the world's foremost expert on humanity (well, besides him at least). Thus they spent the next week running all kinds of tests and trials and came to a tentative conclusion.

***

“Can you guess what it is?” A grinning Lyra asked.

“No, but I think I'm about to find out.”

Unperturbed by his less than enthusiastic response, the still grinning minty green mare said, “You have no special talent whatsoever!”

Anonymous rolled his eyes. “Rub it in my face, why don't ya?”

Lyra shook her head. “You know that's not what I meant. Honestly, have you been paying attention?”

…Kind of? He tried, but Lyra had been growing more and more excited in her explanation, and the more excited she got, the more technical, magicky terminology she employed.

“Why don't you try and dumb it down for me?”

“It all comes back to Cutie Marks,” Lyra elaborated. She regarded Anonymous shrewdly. “What do you know about them?”

He shrugged. “They appear when a colt or filly discovers their special talent.”

“Yes, but,” she tapped a hoof to her chin. “Well, the thing is we don't really know that much about Cutie Marks. They are ruled by a higher, even more mysterious power than the princesses. They are your destiny made manifest, and no force on Equus or Tartarus can change what your talent is. There are those who theorize one could potentially alter the point in time at which a colt or filly could receive their mark, but… well, that would be an incredibly irresponsible and unethical experiment. Point being, ponies have a singular, special talent—one that will become fully realized upon the appearance of the Cutie Mark. And in that special talent they will find their niche, a skill in which they will achieve an uncommon level of proficiency, matched only by those of similar Cutie Marks or—even more rarely—somepony of uncommon skill.”

“...Okay?”

“Put it like this.” She half turned so that her own Cutie Mark was visible upon her flank. “I can play a mean lyre. Bon Bon makes awesome candies. Mr. And Mrs. Cake, er, make cakes! Vinyl and Octavia specialize in different music genres. Applejack is all about apples and Derpy… huh, you know, I'm not sure what her talent is. Some marks are clearer than others, I guess.”

Point being, all colts and fillies are destined for a special talent of their own. We don’t know if this happens before or after the birthing process, or even before conception, but it is there. All ponies on this world are born with it.”

“But I'm not of this world.”

“Yep.”

“Which means I have no preordained destiny or special talent.”

“Yep-yep.”

“Which… means… since I have neither of them,” His face scrunched up in concentration. “And since whatever power that rules over them never assigned me one to start with…” Jesus what-is-the-H-for Christ, he felt dumb. “It means that, paradoxically… I have no special talent and any possible talent at the same time?”

***

It was a working theory, one that would need much more testing before reaching a solid conclusion. Not that Anonymous was especially keen to find out. Just about any self-respecting academic would cream their pants at the opportunity of studying such a phenomenon, but the whole process seemed a lot more trouble than it was worth.

And he still had a life to live. He contented himself with using this new knowledge to become a sort of handyman. It was good, honest work if a bit rote. And of course, incidents would spring up now and then. Incidents that caused him to look at ponies in a new light.

It started innocently enough. He’d go to a house and work on this or that—whatever the pony in question needed help with. It earned him a steady supply of bits and helped the rest of the ponies get used to his presence, and overall he became a well-known fixture around town.

Then the propositions came.

***

“Done!” he huffed and stood to his full height, nearly touching the ceiling of Flitter and Cloud Chaser’s bedroom. He’d been hired by Chaser to make repairs on the unusually large bed she shared with her sister. The thing didn’t even look that old or in bad condition, yet the sisters had somehow caused an incredible amount of wear and tear on it. All four legs needed complete replacement, the headboard had been nearly torn off its hinges and several support beams shattered under whatever unholy punishment the sisters subjected the poor bedframe to.

Cloud Chaser, who’d been more or less hovering over him, watching his hands in fascination as they worked, fluttered onto the mattress and gave two small, experimental hops.

“Wow, it feels great. Really solid, too. Awesome work, Anon!” she said with a toothy smile. “I was worried we’d have to replace the whole thing before tomorrow, but you really came through.”

“Happy to help,” he said, stretching. He meant it, too, watching as the adorable little pegasus gave a few more experimental hops before casually splaying out onto the bed.

“By the way,” Cloud Chaser said. “I don’t want to be one of ‘those’ ponies, but what guarantees do you give?”

“Guarantees?”

“Yeah, you know,” she waved a vague hoof. “Do you give guarantees I’ll be satisfied with my service?”

“...No. I mean, I’d like to think I did solid work. You saw it yourself.”

“Yeah. Uh-huh. But I mean...” her face scrunched up. “You see, Flitter and I... we kinda go through beds. Like, a lot. Used to be we didn’t have a handypony to come fix things up, so we usually just chucked the old one in the trash and replaced it with a new one.”

“Yeah, about that...” he said. “You really should go easy on your beds. Try not to jump on them so much.”

Cloud Chase cocked her head. “Jump on them?”

“Jump on them. Roughhouse. Whatever it is you do that gets them all trashed.”

“We rut stallions.”

“Yeah, that’s what I... wait, what?”

“Well, mostly a stallion. Thunderlane.” She giggled. “He can get a bit rough. Or... well, very rough. It’s a kink with him, I guess? Not that you’ll see Flitter and me complain.” She giggled again.

Anonymous nearly choked. “Fli...” he coughed. “You and Flitter?”

“Yep.”

“Like... all three? At the same time?”

“Uh-huh.”

He adjusted the collar of his shirt. “That’s, uh, kinky.”

She giggled again. “Stallions like that, don’t’cha know. Comes especially handy when Heat Season rolls around.” With a flap of her wings she took to the air and closed the distance between them. “That’s why I’d like a guarantee. Thunder’s coming over tomorrow. He’s staying for the weekend, so that’s why I wanna make sure the bed can take it.”

Wishing to be anywhere else but in that room, but not wanting to lose a prospective customer, Anonymous said, “What did you have in mind?” He’d humor the little pegasus and get the hell out of there.

Cloud Chaser pondered on this for a moment, looking from Anon to the bed and back. Her face brightened up and she then said, “Oh, I know! Let’s take it for a spin.”

“And by spin, you mean—”

“Let’s rut.”

“Ah.”

Cloud Chaser grinned. “Come on, it’ll be fun! And... uh, I didn’t want to say anything, but it looks like you could really use it.” She gestured to his body, waving her hoof up and down. “I mean, I don’t know if it’s normal for you humies, but you’ve been looking really wound up.”

Anonymous gawped.

“Hey, it happens to me too, especially when it’s been a long week at work. Or when I’ve gone a good while without a stallion. Or when I tell Flitter to take out the trash and she just hides it somewhere else.”

Anonymous pinched the bridge of his nose and, biting back a groan, said, “Cloud Chaser, you barely even know me.”

She shrugged. “I mean, I know you’re pretty dependable.”

Anonymous opted for a different tactic. “What about Thunderlane?”

“What about him?”

Oh, for the love of...

“Aren’t you involved with him?”

“I guess?” she said, cocking her head, frowning slightly.

“Won’t he be upset if the two of us...”

“Why would he?”

Alright, she has to be trolling him!

Cloud Chaser’s eyes widened and a look of realization dawned on her. “Ohh, you think we’re in a herd!”

“Aren’t you?”

Cloud Chaser threw her head back and laughed. “No, no! Goodness, no. He’s a friend. Well, a very good friend, but you get my meaning.” Her peals of laughter subsided to chortles. “I mean, can you imagine, being in a herd with my own sister?” she said with a good-natured roll of her eyes. “Oof, wouldn’t that be weird.”

“...Yeah. That’s the weird part.”

***

It wasn’t the first or last time a mare would casually offer him sex. Roseluck, June Bug, Pinkie Pie, Sea Swirl, Octavia, Pinkie Pie, Honey Sweet, Flitter, and Pinkie Pie had all at some point propositioned him whenever he took a job at their residences. Not to say they were pushy or creepy about it, as they would more or less shrug and drop the subject when he inevitably declined.

Ponies, it seemed, had a relaxed, almost casual view of sex. Not being a horse fucker, and growing increasingly unnerved (and maybe just the slightest bit tempted) whenever the Ponyvillian mares offered themselves, Anonymous quit his stint as handyman and went back to the drawing board.

He needed a job of some sort. Something he was uniquely suited to doing. His brief time at the spa, and several test sessions with Lyra taught him two things. He could not perform feats ‘beyond the capacity for human potential’, as Lyra so aptly put it. He could never fly, manipulate the weather, or cast magic. An earth pony’s passive magic that afforded them a unique affinity for growing crops and tending the earth would always surpass his own mundane talents.

He did have hands, though. And fingers. A pony’s hoof lacked the finer, delicate muscles that promoted finer, more precise controls. They worked around this with magic or weird claw-like contraption they hooked round their necks and deemed it ‘good enough’.

It was only a simple matter then, to use his hands in a manner most ponies could not hope to replicate. It’s how he gained an unnatural proficiency for massages, after all. Hands and fingers were so much further beyond a comparatively clumsy hoof that even a neophyte like him could outshine Aloe and Lotus in this one singular aspect of all things spa.

And who would come to his aid again but Rarity. Beautiful, wonderful Rarity. Yep, he owed the gracious mare quite a bit. From fashioning his clothes (far sturdier and much more comfortable than his Earth wardrobe) to rescuing him from Twilight’s spastic fit at the library.

Seriously, what was even up with the little princess? He hoped the two of them could move past the lingering awkwardness of their first meeting, though his admittedly off-the-cuff cock remark seemed to snap something inside her, prompting the purple mare to go on an extensive and red-faced rant regarding stallionhoods, phallic shapes and outlines and the effects they had on dirty minded mares and... color-coded charts, for some reason.

What a weirdo.

“Anonymous?”

“Huh? What?” he said, starting out of his reverie.

Rarity looked over her withers at him. “Do you mind if we make a brief detour? I promise it’ll be quick.”

“Nope, it’s fine.”

She smiled and adjusted her course, heading for Ponyville’s market. Anonymous followed in her wake and did his utmost to prevent his eyes from straying downwards. He then breathed easier as Rarity fell in step beside him.

“Thank you for indulging me, darling,” Rarity said. “I just need to pick up a few things. Sweetie Belle’s staying over at the boutique, you see.”

“Again?”

Rarity hummed. “Mother and father are going off on another of their vacations. Ohayo, this time around.”

“That’s... what, the third one they’ve gone to this year?”

“Fourth, actually. They had a week-long stint in Baltimare back when you went to that trip to Trottingham.” She tutted. “Another notch in their bucket list, no doubt. They’ve crossed off a great many of them ever since they retired. Still, they’ve worked hard enough for our sakes so one can’t begrudge them wanting to enjoy themselves. And it does give Sweetie Belle and me time to bond.”

“Could be worse. At least your sister looks up to you.”

Rarity beamed. “There is that. One could do a lot worse for a little sister, though I do wish she tried to stay out of trouble.”

Together, the two of them made their way across the bustling market, Rarity making a beeline for Carrot Top’s stall.

“A dozen of your finest carrots, please,” Rarity said, levitating the appropriate number of bits to the counter.

Carrot Top nodded and dutifully began to pick out a number of specimens. “Whole dozen, eh? Sweetie Belle and her friends having another sleepover tonight?”

“Right you are, darling. It's carrot dogs all around. Personally, I don’t see why they can’t have a nice salad, or some lovely little petit fours but, well you know how foals are.”

“Ha! Tell me about it. My little nephew's on his picky phase. Won’t eat anything that’s not swimming in glaze or battered and deep fried in boiling oil.”

Rarity did as Rarity does, Anonymous noted, and became progressively engaged in conversation with Carrot Top. Something about a dress or outfit the earth mare was contemplating for some future event. Boring stuff. Not that he found himself complaining.

Rarity’s pillowy white flanks swayed ever-so-slightly side to side as the conversation progressed. He found his traitorous eyes running over her gentle curves—at the way the muscles of her flanks lightly rippled when she shifted her weight. They looked soft and he idly wondered how they’d feel in his hands.

“Goodness, where are my manners? Sorry to have kept you,” Rarity said, trotting up to him, a paper bag bursting with carrots held in her aura.

“N-no, no,” Anonymous croaked, wiping the sweat that beaded on his brow. When did it get so hot? “Don’t worry about it. It’s... uh...” He zeroed in on the carrots and almost on reflex said, “Here, let me carry that for you.”

Rarity smiled. “Ah, such a gentlecolt.” And levitated the bag into his waiting hand. “I’ll have to make a few more stops. And don’t worry, darling, I shan’t tarry any longer. I’m sure you have your own business to get back to.” With another gracious smile, Rarity returned to the main thoroughfare of the market. She kept a brisk pace, slightly ahead of him, and Anonymous felt the day grow hotter still as his eyes gravitated downwards.

It’s not like he hadn’t looked before. He was a red-blooded male, damn it. And with so many cute mares running around in the nude, it was inevitable he’d find his eyes drifting now and then. Not that those mares he’d ogled were putting on a show. They were only doing, well, pony things. Going about their day. Not trying to tempt him in any way. Usually. Rarity, though...

Something changed. He didn’t know how or why, but he’d swear there was something deliberate in her actions—in the way those amazing flanks of hers swayed in a manner most hypnotizing. Or way her tail had an extra swish to it, almost-but-not-quite offering a glimpse of what lay beneath those royal blue strands.

He’d known the mare long enough to know she was no fool. She was a lady, always mindful and aware of the way she carried herself—honing this practice to the point she cultivated a certain air about her. A years-long effort that earned her an effortless, all-natural sort of grace.

He didn’t need to be a genius to see then, she was not the sort of mare to casually or unintentionally draw attention to her body. She knew what she was doing. She had to. Fortunately, she found herself engrossed in their little outing and gave no indication she caught him drinking up her rear, cheerfully nodding at familiar faces as they passed by, or chatting up the vendors as she made her purchases.

Which he obviously carried for her.

"Come, come, Anonymous. Make yourself at home,” Rarity said graciously as she held open the door to her home. Arms bulging with various bags, Anonymous maneuvered himself inside Carousel Boutique and cast an appraising glance.

“You redecorated."

Rarity beamed. “Ah, you noticed. Yes darling, I’ve fretted more than a little trying to decide on a proper look, but I said to myself, ‘You know what this needs, Rarity? A cosmopolitan touch!’ ‘Ooh, how right you are, Rarity’.” She brought a hoof up to her mouth and tittered. “Yes, well. In any case, it was high time my home got a bit of a spruce up. What do you think? Isn’t it just lovely?” she said and with a proud swish of her mane, batted her eyelashes.

Anonymous suppressed a weary smile. “As lovely as the mare who picked it.”

Rarity tittered again. “Oh, very good. You’re getting better, I see.” She levitated the numerous bags from his arms. “You know, darling, it's been a time and a half since we've had a chance to catch up, just the two of us. Won't you stay for a bit? Unless you have pressing business elsewhere.”

He waved a hand. "Sure, it's nothing I can't push back."

Rarity nodded. "Excellent, then. Make yourself at home. I'll be right back.”

Anonymous let out a relieved breath as Rarity walked into the kitchen. She'd no doubt disapprove of it, but he pinched the collar of his shirt and rapidly fanned himself with it. Just a friend. She's just a friend, he reminded himself and sat atop Rarity's new (and expensive looking) couch. She returned not moments after, levitating two tall glasses, iced to the brim and filled with a dark liquid.

“Here we are. Long Island iced tea. A small taste of home for you. I do hope I got the recipe right.”

Anonymous took the cold glass and sipped at the drink, his eyebrows shooting up. “Not bad. Not bad at all,” he said and took a more generous sip. The ice cold drink felt amazing after the rather warm day.

“Quite,” Rarity said as she took a seat beside him, letting out a small, contented sigh as she sipped the glass. Honestly, she found the concept of cold tea to be off-putting at first, but one sip and she was immediately hooked. And adding alcohol? It was love at first taste. “I must admit, I probably drink more of this than I should, but–”

“But it's so good.”

“Addicting, you mean. All that sugar. It goes straight to my flanks,” she said casually and closed her eyes as she took another luxurious sip of the drink. She didn't need to look at Anonymous to know his face went red, even as he mumbled something unintelligible and masked it with a sip of his own.

It's not like she didn't feel his eyes roam all over her assets during their little trip to the marketplace. Poor thing must be in desperate need of relief, she mused to herself. Not that she helped matters any, what with the way she intentionally drew attention to herself, but Rarity wouldn't deny it wasn't the slightest bit fun. There was something satisfying in teasing a well-intentioned stallion, even as he fought the urge to glance at her body--a joyous sort of cruelty. She might have even felt bad about it, had she not every intention to give him a very memorable time... and herself some much needed release.

All in good time, of course. One must not rush these things after all.

"So tell me, how is Lyra doing?"

"Oh, you know. Takes it one day at a time. She's been driving Bon Bon up the wall."

"Oh?"

"You know how she used to have a... reputation before I came here?"

Rarity arched an eyebrow. "Used to?"

She held his gaze for a moment before the two of them indulged in a good laugh.

"Alright, fair enough," he conceded. "But she can't have been that bad, right?"

"Don't get me wrong, I like Lyra well enough but she was always a bit of an odd duck. The 'kooky nutcase with the monkey fetish', as Rainbow Dash so eloquently it once. Not so much anymore."

"Ape, actually."

"Pardon?"

"We're descended from apes, not monkeys."

"Oh... what's the difference?"

He shrugged. "It's the tails, I think." He drained the rest of his drink and said, "Anyway, it turns out there's this whole subculture of ponies throughout Equestria. Weird, nutty types who believed humans were real. This is long before I came here.

"They're very much a niche bunch, so as you can imagine, it's not exactly easy for them to find likeminded ponies. From what Lyra says, they been trying to form an official group of sorts, but there's not that many of them and they're scattered all around Equestria. That's how Lyra's whole obsession began. They put out these ads in the newspaper hoping to lure in ponies who might be interested in what they had to say. She got curious and, er, went down the rabbit hole, so to speak."

"She must have had a field day, I imagine. After you came here, I mean."

Anonymous laughed. "You don't know the half of it. She kept us up the whole night writing letters to all of them. Well, she tried to, when she wasn't bouncing off the walls. They're having their first ever meet up at some convention center down in Las Pegasus sometime soon."

"And let me guess, she wants you to be star of the show?"

"Basically. She's organizing the whole thing. Maybe getting the slightest bit carried away."

"Will you be attending?"

"Sure, why not. It's still a trip to Las Pegasus. Party central, right? We have a similar city back where I'm from that's... well, it's really something else. I'm kinda curious to see yours. See how wild you ponies can get."

"Oh, I assure you, darling," Rarity said, smiling coyly. She locked eyes with him and, lacing her words with just the right amount of huskyness, said, "We can get very wild indeed."

Rarity suppressed a triumphant smirk as Anonymous flushed and looked away. She watched as--mechanically, almost on reflex--he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. His spicy, exotic, masculine musk; so different from a stallion yet not at all displeasing to her senses--steadily growing bolder, more prominent during their walk to the boutique--became considerably more potent.

But she then bit her lip and winced, unable to hold back a small groan of discomfort.

"You okay?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine. Nothing to worry about, just... my neck's a bit stiff, is all."

Anonymous frowned. "Did you fall asleep at the sewing table again?"

Rarity coyly tossed her mane. "The creative process demands a certain price, darling. One a successful artiste must be willing to pay, however inconvenient."

"Do you..." Anonymous' hand reached out, stopping at the halfway point between the two of them. "Do you mind if I take a look."

Rarity did not feign a measure of surprise. "O-oh, I... are you sure?"

"I mean, I feel kinda bad. Knowing you, you probably fell asleep while working on my order. Right?"

At this, Rarity looked the slightest bit abashed. "I didn't... well, it wasn't just your order, but..."

"Then I insist."

Rarity was taken aback by the firm tone, but recovered quickly enough.

"Oh, my. How bold." She said it with a smile and relaxed her body, presenting her back to give him access. His hand settled on the back of her neck, just beside her mane. "Ah, a bit lower." She felt his fingers prod at her coat as they trailed downward, testing, until they settled on a spot just above her withers.

"Here?"

She nodded.

"Would you like me to--"

"Please do."

Rarity sighed as he applied pressure with those wonderful fingers of his, kneading with just the right amount of force.

"I missed this, you know. My spa trips haven't been quite the same since you left."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"No need for apologies, dear. You did what's best for you and nopony can fault you for that."

"True," he muttered and for the next moments he worked in silence.

Rarity cooed as his hand worked its magic. Sweet Celestia, she missed his touch. He really did spoil her with those wonderful hands of his. Capable as the spa ponies were, their hooves simply paled in comparison.

"I must admit," she said, biting back a moan. "I'm surprised you even offered to. I thought after your experiences at the spa..."

"Yeah, well. Life goes on. Things... things can change."

A flick of her ear. "Oh?"

Either he didn't hear her or chose not to respond. Rarity felt a pang of disappointment as he removed his hand.

"I can't..." Anonymous said. There was a thickness to his voice, as though he were struggling to keep it steady. "I can't get a very good reach like this. Why don't you move closer?"

Rarity half turned. His chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths. An unmistakable expression of barely restrained need threatened to break on his flushed face. It sent a thrill shooting through her.

Rarity could not hold back a small, triumphant smile. Wordlessly, she rose to all four hooves and backed toward him. He was a bit too big for the couch and with that build of his, could not comfortably position himself. His left knee rested upon the middle of the cushion as he adjusted his position and Rarity set herself down, setting the curve of her flanks in contact with his knee.

Anonymous gulped as the warm, pillowy sensation pressed against him. He shook his head and reached for her neck.

"Just a moment," Rarity said, unable to keep a breathy lilt from her voice. She reached out with her magic and from somewhere across the room approached a ribbon, enveloped by her aura. With practiced efficiency, she weaved her magic into her mane, deftly fashioning it into a bun and used the ribbon to hold it in place. "There we are. Whenever you're ready."

He had to lean forward to reach her neck. The position itself wasn't the most comfortable, though it did mean the action caused his knee to press further into Rarity's flanks. If she had any objections to this, she did not voice them.

In fact, Rarity lost herself in a little world of her own. Her prolonged dry spell, combined with the knowledge of what was to come, and that wonderful, enticing scent of his sent her arousal into overdrive. And it would come, of that she was sure. The signs Anonymous had been putting out so far were nothing short of promising.

His hands went to work, soothing her tightened muscles. Once he finished on her neck, he trailed downward, much to her delight. Despite not practicing the craft for some time now, he'd lost little of his touch and she all but melted into it. There was a marked difference, though. A barely restrained hunger in the way his hands worked; not merely massaging, but exploring her body. Thank Celestia she had the presence of mind to tuck her tail between her legs. Her lovely new couch would be ruined otherwise.

For some time a silence hung over the boutique, punctuated by moans or sighs of contentment from Rarity. Their breathing, hers and Anonymous, grew heavier the further his hands traveled down her body. She began to get lightheaded.

"Oh!" Rarity glanced back to see him gripping her flanks, kneading the supple flesh. She brought a hoof up to her mouth and tittered. "Anonymous! How bold," she said playfully.

He flinched as if snapping out of a trance and blinked repeatedly, eyes widening as they settled on his hands and how they almost sank into her soft flanks. Rarity watched in amusement as he stuttered this or that. HIs hands twitched, but remained where they were, as if unable to bring himself to remove them.

Deciding to spare him any further indecision or embarrassment, she relaxed again and looked away. Growing bolder herself, she untucked her hind legs which had been resting snugly at her sides and luxuriously stretched them over Anonymous' lap.

"And do be sure you get my legs, darling. They've been feeling a tad tense lately."

She didn't bother to glance back and confirm with him and instead closed her eyes and rested her chin atop her crossed forelimbs. All the better to relax and allow Anonymous to get comfortable with the situation. Not that he needed much prompting.

Hesitantly, he squeezed her flanks. He looked up to gauge any reaction on her part, but other than the rising and contracting of her barrel, gave no response. He squeezed again, lightly this time, and marveled at the softness of her rear. Her coat care routine was top notch, as could be expected, feeling almost like satin beneath his fingers.

Despite her appearance, Rarity was no stranger to hard work, routinely making trips to Ghastly Gorge where she hauled back cartloads of gems through large stretches of unpaved wild terrain. Her labors at the boutique could be no less demanding. He'd seen firsthand how heavy a bolt of cloth really was, and a large part of her equipment and materials were heavy and built to last. Perhaps she could have employed the use of lighter equipment but ever the perfectionist, Rarity demanded the best for her tools--which usually meant solid, heavy-duty materials.

All this and more granted her a deceptively hardy build. Soft but firm, he mused, running his thumb across the diamonds of her Cutie Mark, pressing the soft, yielding surface before meeting more solid muscle beneath.

He could do this for hours, but didn't want to press his luck. Or worse, bore her. With some reluctance, his hands moved to her... thighs? Was this the correct term for Equine anatomy? He didn't know. Or particularly care, for that matter. He did his best to recall his training at the spa and worked her legs as best he could. Thinking of it like work helped to clear his mind, somewhat. And judging by the soft coos of contentment from Rarity, she appreciated his efforts.

It was then he began to notice a certain... fragrance. To call it a mere smell would be a disservice. He couldn't be sure whether Rarity intended it or even realized it, but her tail caught his eye--the dock making random, jerky motions, as if struggling to escape the compressed space between her and the sofa and thus break free.

He noticed then, during the times when her tail would try to lift itself from side to side that the fragrance grew in potency. After nearly two years in Equestria, and his unwitting firsthand experience with Twilight, he was wiser now to what this meant.

He tested the waters by moving to the inside of her thighs, using long, languid strokes--more a caress than anything--to move up and closer to her marehood.

Rarity's breaths grew heavier. Her legs parted slightly.

Deciding he'd never be able to live with himself if he backed out now, Anonymous poked a finger past the blue strands of her tail to where he was fairly sure her marehood was located.

The sheer heat surprised him. Carefully, he probed deeper. Rarity moaned, squirming atop him but made no protest. Her tail still obstructed his view but he added a second finger regardless, tracing the warm, wet folds.

Truth be told, he had no idea what he was doing. Sure he had a notch or two under his belt back on Earth, but he now realized he hadn't the faintest clue how a pony worked down there. How similar was it to a woman's?

As if sensing this, Rarity's horn lit up and lightly tugged at his fingers, adjusting their position. Mindful not to scrape her with his fingernails, Anonymous gave an experimental push. Her marehood all but welcomed him, greedily drawing him in. Her walls clamped tight around his fingers.

"So tight," he mumbled. He turned his hand palm up for a better position and pushed deeper. Rarity purred at the action. Her body, trembling.

She likes it, he realized. She actually, genuinely likes this. He nearly laughed, coming to this conclusion only after he was two fingers deep in her. He pumped them, in and out. Then again. Then he kept going until his hand dripped with her fluids and every motion caused wet, schlicking sounds as he went in and out of her.

By this point his whole upper leg was damp. Her fragrance hung heavy over the room, growing muskier but no less pleasing. Through it all, Rarity stubbornly held on to some pretense of dignity, doing her best to hold back the litany of gasps, squeals and moans of delight that clamored to break from her--all with limited success.

Seeing the prim and proper mare in this state triggered something in Anonymous. Every last lingering remnant of the caveman ancestry hard-coded into his DNA screamed and hooted raucously, bellowing across the eons for him to give in to his baser instincts; sending a message that inscribed itself in every fiber of his being.

FUCK THE PONY.

His fingers grazed a certain part inside her marehood. Rarity's body seized. She let loose a piercing squeal of surprise and and as if in reflex, her body jumped away from Anonymous and crashed down on the floor.

"Shit," he muttered and scrambled to his feet. His pants felt agonizingly tight. "Are you hurt?"

Rarity raised a hoof and frantically waved him away. "N-no, no. I'm alright. It's just... goodness me," she gasped, her chest heaving. "Just... give me a moment."

Through this all, Rarity still lay atop the floor, facing away from him and giving Anonymous no indication of what she might be thinking; then slowly, shakily, got to her hooves and turned to face him.

""Sorry,"" the two said simultaneously.

...

""For what?""

...

A smile tugged at Rarity's lips. She chuckled and he followed suit, dispelling some of the awkwardness.

"Are you sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Positive," Rarity said, her flushed from the neck up. She looked away, looking almost... shy. "It, ahh," she gulped. "It felt incredible, rather. It's not... uh, I've never felt anything quite like it, to be honest."

"R-right."

Rarity chanced a look at him. He absentmindedly scratched the side of his face, using the same hand still coated in... her. It left a trail on his skin, not that he seemed to notice. She bit her lip and suppressed a sudden urge to laugh.

"Oh," she tutted. "Well isn't that upsetting."

Anonymous followed her gaze down. A dark spot stretched over a large part of his leg, courtesy of Rarity.

"My apologies, darling. I didn't mean to get quite so," she cleared her throat. "Excited." She turned to go to the kitchen. "Come on, then. We really should get those pants clean before any, eh, lasting effects take place."

Even as she stepped into her modest kitchen, her magic was already at work. From a drawer came a handful of bottles of cleaning solution, from another a basin which she filled halfway with water from the sink.

She glanced back to see Anonymous standing at the threshold of the kitchen.

"Come, darling." She used her magic to pull out a chair from the kitchen table, leaving it as an open invitation. "Sit, please."

Once he did, she scooped a measured portion of the cleaning agents into the basin, using magic to swirl the water and get it all nice and mixed. Satisfied, she approached the table, trailing the basin behind her as well as a clean towel and set them both atop its surface.

Moments stretched as neither of them broke the silence. Rarity took the time to dip the towel into the lightly frothing mixture and dabbed at Anonymous' leg, wryly noting how large the patch was. All that and she never even finished. Her marehood ached, demanding for release, setting her cheeks aflame with a healthy, needy blush.

It's now or never.

"I'd like to be perfectly honest with you, Anonymous. We are both adults, after all. And I do apologize for the deception and... and I don't normally go about these things in so blunt a manner but, I may have had an... ulterior motive for inviting you back here." She rubbed the towel in small circles, going from the outside in. "Don't get me wrong, I consider you a good friend. I hope I've proven that over time. And it's not like the thought has never crossed my mind, but you've always been so... put off by the idea of a pony--of being intimate, I mean--which is why I've never breached the subject. Didn't want to 'rock the boat', as it were.

But I also get the sense that might be different now. That maybe... maybe you've grown more used to the idea. Broaden your horizons and all that. Hah, not that I haven't been with any male who wasn't a stallion myself, but..." she shook her head. "Well, I suppose what I'm trying to say is--"

Rarity gasped and backed away as Anonymous lunged forward, off the chair and on his knees before her. He cupped her face in his hands and Rarity barely got a word out before he leaned in and mashed his lips to hers. Rarity moaned, her eyes fluttered. The glow of her horn ceded and the towel fell limp to the floor.

She inhaled his intoxicating scent, feeling lightheaded. One of Anonymous' hands snaked to the back of her neck, just under her bun and gripped her firmly. Possessively. It drove her wild.

She pushed back against him, rearing on her legs and pressed her hooves to his shoulders. His tongue breached her mouth and she met it with her own. She shivered, tasting him for the first time. Neither could say how long they did this; how long their tongues fenced against the other--taking in the other's taste, scent--but when they separated it was for need of air.

Rarity's chest heaved. Her eyes half-lidded, her cheeks ablaze; mouth half-open as she breathed out little puffs of hot air.

"Am I--" She gulped. "Am I to take this as a yes?"

Anonymous chuckled. "Well what do you think?" He ran the back of his fingers against her cheek and Rarity fought down the urge to close her eyes and lean into it.

"A lady never presumes, Anonymous. It's unbecoming."

"No. No she wouldn't." He looked somewhat abashed. "Uhh, sorry. For kissing you, I mean. Should have... probably asked for permission before--"

"There's something to be said for an assertive stallion. It can be..." she giggled. "Exhilarating. And trust me, darling, I'm not completely helpless. We wouldn't be here now if I didn't want it." She looked down to his pants where a sizable bulge strained against the fabric, then back again to him. "Question is, do you?"

Anonymous opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. He swallowed and instead gave a single feverish nod.

Rarity smiled impishly. She lunged forward for another kiss, pushing him back with surprising force. Anonymous eased himself back, pinned between the floor and a very hungry mare. His hands roamed over her soft, velvety body; going down her neck, past her barrel and to those amazing flanks of hers, eagerly squeezing them.

She pulled her tongue out of his mouth, breaking the kiss with an audible pop.

“Ah, ah, ah” she tutted playfully, using her magic to pull his fingers away from the course they’d been making toward her marehood. “It’s my turn this time.”

Her magical aura receded from his fingers and instead settled on the belt of his pants; unfastening it, then the button, next the zipper and she swiftly tugged the garment down, leaving his modesty hidden beneath a pair of boxer shorts.

“Honestly, darling, I’m not sure how you do it,” she said. “Don't get me wrong, I simply adore clothes, but I can’t imagine layering up every day for the rest of my life.”

He chuckled. “It helps that we don’t have fur.”

She followed suit. “Yes, I imagine.” She then watched with a coy smile as she directed her magic elsewhere and Anonymous went rigid under her.

Anonymous barely registered the words. His body tensed, hands clenched to fists, and he jerked his head upwards. The telltale glow of Rarity’s magic enveloped his cock, visible even below the fabric of his underwear, simultaneously familiar and very different than what he was used to. Her grip was delicate, warm, and sent a most curious tingle shooting down his shaft.

He groaned as Rarity’s expert touch milked him, sending jolts of near agonizing pleasure coursing through it. So overwhelming was the sensation he didn’t even register Rarity take a hooffull of steps backwards and laid down on her belly, right between his spread legs.

Even as she pleasured him, she leaned in, eyes closed, nostrils flared and touched her nose to his shaft, deeply inhaling his scent--unfamiliar, exotic, but undeniably masculine. She sighed but reluctantly backed off, lest she lose control of herself and pounce on him and rut him senseless.

Not that Anonymous himself could hold on much longer. He held on as best he could, but after going so long without a touch save his, combined with Rarity’s expert technique, meant his own climax approached with frightening speed.

She must have sensed it, for she cut the connection before he finished.

Anonymous gasped, taking in greedy lungfuls of air, heart hammering beneath his ribcage.

“I might apologize for asking so bold a question,” Rarity said. “But I think we’re well past that point.”

Anonymous propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look.

“You’ve been living in Equestria for two years now,” Rarity continued. “Am I the first pony you’ve gone this far with?”

In spite of his flushed face, Anonymous did not feel the slightest bit embarrassed. He nodded. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Rarity’s smiled warmly. “Well then, as the Element of Generosity, it’s only fitting I make your first time one to remember.”

He watched with bated breath as Rarity shuffled closer. Her hooves reached out, going past the tent in his underwear and (somehow) grabbed on to his waistband. Slowly, agonizingly, Rarity pulled them downward, not daring to breathe herself; unable to hide a glint of excitement in her eyes.

When it finally popped free, it bopped her on the muzzle, leaving a wet patch smack dab in the middle of her nose. Rarity regarded the spot cross-eyed. She reached out with her tongue to sample it, shuddering.

She cleared her throat, took a deep breath and said, “Yes, well. I do apologize for what you’re about to see.”

Anonymous' words died in his throat as Rarity leaned down and swallowed him.

"Fuuuck," he groaned. Rarity might have said the same, she might not. Her eyes were shut tight even as half his cock was lodged down her throat. And what a throat it was--hot, almost unbearably so, and so wonderfully tight. Anonymous had to muster every ounce of willpower to not finish then and there.

Rarity moaned. Her half-lidded eyes were hazy. She ran her tongue throughout his surface. For some time now she'd wondered what he tasted like. How different would it be from a stallion's? Would he taste as good as he smelled? Yes. Yes he did, and she wanted more.

Slowly, Rarity bobbed upward, nostrils flaring and sending little puffs of hot air against him. She stopped just short of his tip, maintaining her lips around it; lightly sucking on it; her tongue tracing slow, deliberate patterns upon its surface.

She pushed onward, a bit further than before, taking more of his meat down her throat and eager to taste him further.

Anonymous' restraint broke. He placed his hands upon her head and locked her in place, pushed her downward and thrust his hips, burying himself deeper within her, pulling her back and repeating the process. His actions were not hurried or desperate, but forceful, pulling her head back from his meat before meeting the downward return by slamming his hips, burying himself anew.

Rarity whimpered pitifully, almost choking; tears stung at her eyes, but the mare did not resist his actions. She lapped up every inch of his cock, desperate to have more of him, sucking and clamping her throat around it.

By Rarity's own standards, the given blowjob was not great. It might have charitably been called decent. Not that Anonymous seemed to mind. After so long without any real action, even the sloppy blowjob (admittedly by his fault) felt downright godly. It didn't take long then, for his own climax to barrel past the point of no return.

With one final thrust of his hips he pushed the eager mare down until she took every last inch of him. A primal, guttural roar escaped him as he reached his peak and he exploded within her. His vision momentarily went black. Two years' worth of pent up frustration were released at once as torrents of his seed poured down Rarity's throat, nearly choking the unwitting mare.

His seed was thick. There was so much of it; but Rarity swallowed to the best of her ability. His body, so tense and rigid beneath her--could almost pass for stone--slowly relaxed until all at once, his grip slackened and she was free.

Not that Rarity moved from her spot. She pulled back gradually as she swallowed more and more of his seed. It was a herculean effort, but when she popped his slackening stallionhood from her mouth, she swallowed the last trace of him that remained and gasped, opening her reddened eyes.

Anonymous' chest heaved, taking in greedy lungfuls of air. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, a faraway look on them, but it cleared as the moments passed. Shakily, he sat up.

"You," he panted, giving Rarity a tired smile. His hand cupped her cheek. "Are amazing."

Rarity smiled, leaning in to his touch. "Careful, darling. Flattery will get you everywhere."

He chuckled. "That's the idea. But now it's my turn to return the favor."

Rarity giggled. "Well, if you insist. I do believe I have a booster shot or two around here somewhere."

"A... booster shot?"

"Call it a," she glanced down to his cock. "Performance enhancer."

Anonymous scoffed. "Please. I'm twenty years too early to need that junk."

"Oh. But then... how will you..."

"Just give me like ten minutes." He laughed. "Hell, give me five minutes. I am so backed up, I'll be ready to go again soon."

Rarity gave him a look.

"What? Don't believe me? "

"It's just," she hesitated. "Hard to believe. Most stallions can go once a day. Twice if they're lucky."

"...You can't be serious."

"If only," she sighed. "Booster potions help with it, but they don't see much use outside of heat season or... stud stables. Most stallions are perfectly satisfied after one go."

Anonymous took a moment to process this. He heard the jokes, of course. Word got around. Stallions weren't known for their endurance in the sack even at the best of times, but this? "Wow, that's... wow. You mares don't have it easy, huh?"

Rarity chuckled mirthlessly. "Welcome to Equestria, darling."

Anonymous shook his head. "Rarity." He took her hoof in hand and kissed it, then repeated the action with the other. "On behalf of all men, you have my condolences. In fact, I insist on making it up to you."

"Hm? And how do you propose to do that?"

"We go up to your room, lock ourselves in and we won't come out until you can't feel anything below your waist."

Rarity blushed. "O-oh, my."

She could see he meant it, too. A newfound hunger began to creep in on his eyes. It made her realize she hadn't achieved release herself. As if sensing this, the dull ache in her marehood flared anew. She gulped, steeling herself. As much as she wanted to give in and witness his endurance firsthoof, there was still a proverbial fly in the ointment.

"Now that's an enticing thought," she said. "But Sweetie Belle will be coming home eventually."

He clicked his tongue. "Right, I forgot about that."

Rarity smiled. "Oh, I'm sure there's plenty we can do until then. In fact, Sweetie Belle won't be home for about..." She craned her neck to look at the clock that hung over the entrance to the living room. "Fifty minutes. Plenty of time for S-Swee-SWEET-SWEETIE BELLE?!"

The unicorn filly was as a statue. A wide-eyed, unblinking, very red statue, rooted to the spot just before the threshold to the kitchen, saddlebags bursting with school supplies, unmoved even by Rarity's piercing shriek.

Rarity's own brain seemed to lag for a moment, and once she realized her own compromising position, hastily backed away from Anonymous, who hastily tugged his underwear over his flaccid manhood, muttering a hushed 'Shit' under his breath as he nearly tripped over himself, scrambling to his feet.

"Sweetie, darling," Rarity rasped, her voice strained. "Why aren't you in school?"

She blinked.

"Sweetie Belle, I asked you a question," Rarity said, reflexively falling back on her stern older sister voice.

The filly's eyes met her sister's. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Sweetie then gulped, licked her lips and in a small, croaky voice said, "We... free period. Miss 'lee... let us go." Sweetie Belle's voice died in her throat. She remained unmoving, save for her eyes. Rarity's own mouth opened and closed wordlessly; combined with her wide unblinking eyes to give the impression of some sort of idiotic dying fish. Anonymous pulled his pants up, but flushed and turned away as the filly's eyes zeroed in on his crotch.

Rarity took a deep breath and said, "Sweetie Belle, I want you to go up to your room, darling. I'll be up there with you shortly."

Sweetie Belle did not move. She looked from Rarity to Anonymous and back.

"What were you two doing?"

Rarity bit her lip, just barely holding back a whine of despair. She took an authoritative step forward and said, "Sweetie Belle, do not make me repeat myself. Just... just go up! I'll explain things later."

An odd pall came over the filly, adopting a faint tinge of green that clashed horribly with her flushed coat. Her little face twisted into an ill-favored grimace.

"Did he pee in your mouth?"

Rarity's hoof slammed down.

"ROOM! NOW!"

Sweetie Belle squeaked in fear before she zipped up the stairs, slamming the door behind her.

Rarity's legs gave out and she flopped onto the floor, burying her face in her hooves, channeling her frustration and embarrassment into a single, agonized wail.

"Little siblings, huh?"

Her head snapped to Anonymous, who flinched. He grasped his arm, shuffling in place.

"I should... probably go, I think."

Rarity sighed and wearily got to her hooves. "Yes, I... I think that would be best."

Anonymous nodded. He cleared his throat. "Ah, will you be okay?"

Rarity grimaced. "Probably not. I never thought I'd have to give the talk to any foal but my own." Another mournful sigh. "Hopefully Sweetie Belle wasn't too... scarred from the experience."

"Y-yeah," he said. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. Good, eh, good luck."

Rarity watched him go and set about the task of cleaning up their little mess. Well, hers. A not inconsiderable patch of moisture glistened on the pristine floor of her kitchen. She cleaned it thoroughly, almost obsessively; a good excuse to prolong the inevitable trudge up the stairs and the unpleasant, humiliating conversation she'd have with her sister. She'd have to be extra nice for the coming days and give Sweetie Belle no small amount of concessions if she hoped to swear her to secrecy, for Rarity would literally, not figuratively, die if her parents found out.

She levitated the basin to the sink and emptied its contents, foregoing the use of magic and instead used her hooves to give it a proper cleaning. The burning need in her marehood, though dulled from the previous events, now returned in full force. She couldn't even use one of her toys. The session would not be short, of that she was sure, nevermind the fact she'd not be able to look her sister in the eye if she relieved herself first. Her stock of moonblossom tea had run out as well and Rarity never bother to refill it, so confident her and her friends' plan would bear fruit.

"Well there you go, Rarity. That's what you get for not being prepared," she said to herself.

This did not bode well. Her arousal only grew. Anonymous' taste lingered in her mouth. She squeezed her legs. Already a fresh trickle of mare juice dripped down them.

With a horny growl of frustration, Rarity realized she was left with no other choice.

*THUNK*

*THUNK*

*THUNK*

Author's Note

Ain't I a stinker? 8