The Princess of the Moon knew that her ass was her greatest asset. Tight pants, tiny thongs, bending over in public; these were the tools and tactics with which she served her nation.

After losing the bid for oats to that barely-legal bitch Cadence, she needed to remind her followers that the moon controlled the tide. There were a number of bills in need of her signature, so she decided—as she sometimes did—to allow some of her people to spectate the signing.

For the event she decided to wear a backless one-piece, somewhat like a swimming costume, that bared her shoulders and threaded her ass like dental floss. The fabric briefly split to account for the croup of her tail before rejoining and vanishing into her mini-skirt.

The skirt itself was basically just a band of elastic, hardly longer than the breadth of her hand, stretched around her upper hips and failing to conceal the underside of her butt. Indeed, underneath the skirt’s hem her massive, doughy ass hung out, its glory natural and un-glamoured.

The signing took place in the castle's great hall, where a wooden lectern stood upon the dais. Slightly shorter than would be appropriate for the princess' height, and facing the wrong way besides, it was designed this way intentionally. Upon it were the papers she was to sign. There was also a quill and ink, for this was not all merely for show. The documents were important bills that required her signature.

When the crowd had assembled and the doors were shut, Princess Luna sashayed onto the floor to booming applause. The rowdier fanatics were kept in line by the winged sentries that flanked the dais, and a dividing rope kept them back and prevented them from spilling into the aisle.

Walking on hooves gave a natural sway to her step and lifted her butt so that it bounced and settled with each stride. Her every action had her fans frothing at the mouth, driven half-mad by a cocktail of obsession and sexual frustration.

She halted before the lectern, fiercely clamping her legs together to elicit a wild shudder from her butt cheeks; then she leaned forward, bending over the papers and showing off not only her august ass but the starkly visible part of her one-piece that expanded outward and down from the bottom of her tightly-pressed cheeks to cover her plump pussy, which could be seen between her legs. She held her tail aloft like a ghostly flame rising high, illuminating the nuances of her hindquarters below.

Taking the quill in hand, she made bold, sweeping strokes; exaggerated in order to cause her flesh to ripple and bounce. Even the meat of her thighs shifted before the audience, and her guards had to evert their eyes to ensure that their spines were the only things erect.

The whole while Luna's mysterious aide was filming, using a high-definition attachment on her phone's camera to allow for close-up shots from her far-away perch in the balcony over the door. She wanted to capture every movement of the princess's body, every ripple through fat and every muscle contraction.

At her aide's behest, Luna had used a glamor spell to return her coat and mane to the way they were just after she was freed from the nightmare, which was a very popular look according to polls the media team had run. It seemed to be paying off as the exclusive, premium chat for the live-stream of the event was filled with positive remarks on that very change.

Straightening up, Luna took a single step back, lifting one butt cheek above the other. Then she spun about to face the crowd, placing one hand delicately atop one of her breasts after they swung into position.

The crowd was thrilled to see her face (and breasts) as she addressed them, though it signaled that the brief event was coming to a close. Her outfit left her belly uncovered, as well as the bottoms of her breasts. She spoke in her usual manner, her powerful voice making the unrestricted underside of her boobs quiver like droplets of water threatening to drip from a faucet.

The overall display was so dazzling that most in attendance had no idea what it was that she was talking about. Though she spoke plainly about her policies, most were won over by the spectacle rather than the speech.

On the other hoof, there were some that had already decided beforehand that they did not like what she had to say without having bothered to listen to what that was. There was no winning over these ponies, many of whom were minor influencers themselves, elevated and incensed by the blind loyalty of their antiestablishmentarianist followers.

Of course, if they wanted to make a real difference they would be targeting the Ministry with their grievances, not her; though she wouldn't dare say such a thing aloud, not after what happened to Spike. Even Twilight was forced to back down after that, and she was among the first to criticize the spread of the Grimoire platform and the staunchest opponent of its integration into government and business culture.

What was to be done, then? Was she doomed to play by their rules, and take the heat for it? Was there no other option than standing on a stage, shaking her ass for her people just so they would care enough to support her in the endeavor to keep them fed come winter?

It was a constant struggle to claim the resources needed to function as a state, and winning one bid often meant forfeiting another. Under the thumb of the Ministry, a play for power of any kind threatened to divide their chances of outbidding the other princesses.

These dark thoughts followed her, lingering even after the event had concluded, and Luna wondered how long things could go on as they were. She felt powerless to enact real change. Eventually, surely, something had to give.

But what?

Author's Note

Sorry about the long wait. I’ve been procrastinating a little, and working on some other things besides. I made some special cover art for Luna which should be up until the next chapter is complete. Cheers!