The Pleasure Of His Company

She woke to him coming down the stairs.

"Good morning, sweetheart." The pained smile on Neurotransmitter's face suggested he felt bad -- but she could hardly be expected to truly understand a madpony, really. "I know you probably didn't sleep well, and . . . I am sorry about that. But there is some good news."

She blinked at him; he tilted his head a little, and uncertainty crept into those bright green eyes. "Rarity, come . . . regardless of anything else, you're never one to be a poor conversationalist."

There's that little edge in his voice again, she thought. I don't want to provoke him . . . "Please, tell me the good news, I . . . I can hardly wait to hear it."

The smile on his face became a little more . . . even. "Now, that's the indomitable spirit of the mare I love! Well, the good news is . . . I've determined that the aversion therapy can come in small parts." He shook his head. "I spent a good portion of last night reviewing research. My conclusions were wrong. I won't need to spend a long while providing negative reinforcement, and then a long while providing positive. We can have them during the same days, as long as you're consistently getting negative stimuli for unwanted behavior, and positive stimuli for wanted behavior." His smile had grown wide by the end of the explanation.

"That's, ah, lovely?" She swallowed. Very reassuring, in no sense of the word at all. How in Celestia's name am I going to get out of here? Wait, he did say 'good news' . . . that presupposes 'bad news'. What could possibly be worse than this?

"Now, Rarity . . . I do have a bit of bad news." He swallowed and drew a very, very deep breath; she braced herself for the absolute worst. "Your mane is gone," he finally said.

She blinked for a few moments; even with all of these horrible things happening around her, somehow that was just one indignity she hadn't expected. "But, at . . . at the hospital, before, you had left it intact . . . "

"It was a different part of your brain, darling. I'm sorry; this time I had to get into the very foremost part of the frontal cortex. It was right under the front third of your mane, and I knew you'd feel incomplete with only part, so . . . I simply shaved it all."

Her brow furrowed for a moment, and her eyes flicked to the console in the other corner of the room. Can I lie my way around this? He's smart, but he's not as good at reading ponies as I am, is he? "I . . . won't claim it makes me happy, but . . . it makes sense that you had to, if you were going to do that." She tried not to grit her teeth. My mane! Oh, Celestia, will this never end? The horror layered with indignities . . .

"It didn't make me happy either, sweetheart, but . . . I knew it had to be done." He shook his head. "I couldn't imagine going another month without you! I . . . I felt I would simply die, if I tried . . . "

She tried to make herself summon up sympathy, and it almost worked, but finally she just closed her eyes. He feels sorry he had to cut off my mane?! What about me? What about this horrid situation?

He trotted past her, poking at things she couldn't turn her head to see; a few moments later, she felt the strangest movements at the side of her head. "Stay still, please. I wouldn't want this to hurt you more than it already has . . . and you'll be able to move your head again, in a few minutes."

Finally! Oh, my neck is so sore . . . she thought, and did her best to stay still. Three points of pain blossomed, pain she'd simply stopped recognizing since it had become constant, around her skull. And I cannot imagine what my mane looks like at this point -- oh, Rarity! That's hardly the biggest concern you currently have!

"There we go. You should be all right to move your head. Here, one . . . mmmf . . . moment . . . " He did something with obvious difficulty, his voice dipping towards the floor, and then the upper half of the table she was laying on started to tilt upwards, bringing her into a reclining position. Not a table -- a bed. It doesn't seem even as padded as the ones at the hospital were, she thought. "That should be a little better."

"It . . . it is, Neuro," she murmured, uncertain of herself. "Thank you." She didn't want to be nice to him -- this little escapade was absolutely drowning out anything good about the stallion she'd actually said those three little words to -- but at the same time, she didn't want to set him off again. Neutral responses, unless that upsets him. That's a good course for now. Politeness under fire is the order of business.

He was silent, save for a sharp intake of breath.

She hesitated, but then curiosity drove her to say something. "Neurotransmitter . . . ?"

"Oh! Yes, I . . . sorry." He trotted from around, and this time she could turn her head to look as he did. Aches flowed through her neck as he came into view, but she knew the soreness would only get worse if she didn't work the muscles a bit. "I got a bit . . . distracted."

She caught a distinct tug at the center of his forehead, and recognized it in an instant, even in her sorry state of being. Guilt! Perfect! Let's see why he's feeling guilty. Gently, now, Rarity . . . can't poke too hard, or he'll go over to the console again . . . "Distracted? Whatever were you distracted by? Come, now, Neurotransmitter . . . " Maybe do something borderline flirtatious? Her stomach tightened at the thought, but she pushed it out all the same. " . . . you can't leave a girl wondering."

He looked at her, then gave a sad little shrug. "There was some blood trickling down from where the clamps held your skull, and . . . "

Oh, goddess, not this. He'd spoken to her of blood, and blood had been there during their first two sexual encounters, but she hadn't known. If she'd known, she'd never have let him anywhere near her, certainly not into her bedroom at the boutique.

"I . . . I can smell it, Rarity," he murmured, still not looking at her. "I can smell it. And if I can smell it and see it, then . . . " He swallowed and shook his head. "I shouldn't be down here. I need to clean it up, and . . . and bandage, and then I can be down here." He almost seemed to tremble for a moment, and then he drew a deep breath before Rarity could think of anything to try to say. "Just give me a minute."

She bit her lip, then realized she had better be careful about doing that too hard, as he got a towel wet in the sink next to the bed. I don't want a repeat of what happened the first time, she thought . . .

***

He had been impressive, not only in social standing but in terms of his prestigious career; he seemed such a dedicated physician. Always busy, always trying to help where he could; even the nurses seemed to find him charming while Rarity had been recuperating, and when he'd asked for the pleasure of her company, it would have been an absolute crime to turn him down. The first date led to the second -- any faint whiff of clinical detachment she'd gotten from him was simply a false impression, it seemed. It all fell away when he actually had spare time, and he seemed more than ready to make some available for Rarity.

The second date had led to a third, and a fourth. She'd introduced him to the rest of the girls. Twilight found him fascinating; Fluttershy thought him caring. Dash already knew of him; apparently the Wonderbolts had a somewhat higher incidence rate of severe cranial trauma. Applejack had been a tough nut to crack, but even she admitted she couldn't see anything wrong about the doctor, and that he'd seemed perfectly in line with Rarity's tastes. What was the term she used? I believe it was 'high-falutin''. Pinkie had even asked Rarity later when the Rarity's Officially Found Her Special Somepony Party should be held.

But, of course, Rarity had to know -- to be sure. And while she was certainly an idealist, she was no schoolfilly with delusions about first times; she wasn't a virgin, and she knew the good doctor wasn't as well. As much as a lady never kissed and told, several of her close confidantes had admitted they'd spent the night with him, at one time or another. Things hadn't worked out, but things don't always work out, do they?

No, they most certainly do not.

Her sixth date was when she decided she needed to find out.

That date had been a simply splendid evening out in Manehatten. They'd seen a show at the Coltacabana, gotten drinks afterwards at Smooth Ride's exclusive little no-name, no-sign club, then taken a carriage back to Neurotransmitter's house in town.

Once they'd come through the door of his home at Patches Place, she felt so sure she'd made the right decision. Her head was swimming a bit from the cocktails, sure, but he was very much a gentlecolt -- invited her in for coffee, and chatted with her for some while. They'd talked and talked, and she'd enjoyed the experience so much she felt a little awful for ending the discussion -- but she was looking for a bit of lubricant for the evening, so to speak.

So she'd drank her third coffee mostly down, and then -- in a great sacrifice -- 'accidentally' spilled it on part of her dress.

Sure enough, he started to try to deal with it, and she conveniently tried to help at the same time. Proximity brought a flush to his face, and she could feel one creeping along her neck as well. He started to say something, then lost track of it and started again. "I, ah . . . I'll just get a towel . . . "

"Neuro," she murmured, lifting her head and tilting her muzzle down just a touch. He turned back, blinking at her. Mmm, there we go. Now keep your eyes on his. Rarity knew that keeping one's pupils dilated automatically caused another to view them as more attractive; with the soft light, it wasn't hard to do, but if she kept her eyes on the thing she liked most about him, it would work even more so.

His smile seemed to shift, a subtle change; his lips opened a little more, and then one of his eyebrows lifted up just a touch. "Yes, Rarity?"

"Perhaps we can deal with the stain . . . later?" She tugged her lower lip into her mouth for a moment, trotting towards him --

She managed to trip over her own hooves. She had crashed to the floor, landing chinfirst and closing her teeth on her lip; warm blood leaked into her mouth as she made soft sounds of pain and landed on her side.

He'd come right over. "Rarity! Rarity, be careful . . . does your neck hurt?"

She shook her head. "No, no. Only my ego is bruised . . . and I believe I bit my lip. I can't believe I was so -- "

Suddenly he'd leaned in and pressed his lips to hers -- while she was still on the floor! It had seemed so deliciously primal at the time, and the kiss had pulled a soft moan out of her. His stare afterwards seemed . . . hungry. He'd seemed a little flustered a moment ago, but this was different. A deep burn of arousal on his face, his breathing much faster, a new tension in his muscles . . .

"I'm so sorry, Neuro, it . . . it was clumsy of me," she whispered. He didn't strike me as the type to find clumsiness attractive! Mmm. I'll have to remember that, next time. If there is a next time! Celestia, oh, let this night go well . . .

"No, no, Rarity . . . " His eyes flicked down to her lip again. "It's perfect. You can't even imagine how perfect it really is. Don't worry about the stain."

She hadn't.

He'd smiled and invited her to spend the night; she understood what it meant when a stallion asked it in that tone of voice, and she'd smiled and nodded back. They'd trotted to his bedroom, coffee completely forgotten, stain completely forgotten, awkwardness completely forgotten. Every time she, out of reflex, would suck on her lower lip, he would lean in and press his lips to hers again.

Rarity had bitten her lips any number of times before, of course. She wasn't going to let it slow down her evening; she was a lady, and poise meant handling a little pain now and then, whether from a dress that fit just a little too snug in one spot, or a pebble caught underhoof when Princess Celestia came by and it was time to bow. It seemed like he couldn't get enough of kissing her, somehow, and it was making warmth spread between her legs as they trotted an irregular trot towards his bedroom.

Once they got there, she moved in front of him, so that the bed was behind her, and put on a playful -- yet seductive -- smile. "You'd better come get me, before I step falsely again," she giggled.

He had -- he'd moved close, gentle pressure bringing her rear to the bed, and then she was on it; oh, the scent. He was high class, but he wasn't royalty; good with his hooves, but clearly well-bred. He'd used something for his laundry -- she could detect lime, basil, and mandarin in the scent of his sheets -- but he was still a stallion, and she caught the smell of his musk, too. The warmth of his body pressed against her, and his mouth was on hers; she could hardly help but arch into the kiss, and let herself be swept away.

When she felt his member press against her lower tummy, she moaned deep into his mouth, and he moaned back, then broke the kiss. Those green eyes watched her close, his breath on her chin, his body over hers.

"Rarity," he whispered. "You'll tell me if I'm being presumptuous, won't you, darling?"

"Oh, Neuro . . . of course." She couldn't help but stare into those delicious green eyes. "You're not being presumptuous at all, I promise."

His eyes had flicked to her lips again, with that hungry expression, and then she was lost in the renewed kiss. It's turning out just as it should . . . not like with the others! He shifted his body a bit, and lifted his rear; the blunt head of his warm, pulsing length nudged up against her sex, and she quivered under him, and broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Rarity?"

"Yes, Neuro?"

"Are you all right?"

Oh, he is ever the dashing gentlecolt! Such concern, mmmm . . . I should make it obvious that things are going well, reassure him a little. "I'm a little more than all right at the moment, to be quite honest," she murmured, breathy, in a voice like fudge. She reached with her magic, gently gripping around his member near the base, and rubbed the head gently along her own outer lips. Her breath caught in her throat, but she was determined to tease him a little bit. "H-How . . . about yourself?"

He was chewing his lip, and his breathing was getting even faster. "I'd say I've never had it better," he whispered.

She leaned up to kiss his lips this time, finding hunger in herself to match his own; there was still the taste of blood, but she didn't care. She'd been thinking about this night for over two months now, and it was turning out to be everything she'd expected. Of course, not even perfect things were perfect, but what was a little bit of pain in her lip?

The kissing became more than kissing, almost licking at each others' lips; she could tell from the faint scent and deep warmth shifting between her legs that she was becoming moistened, but it wasn't fast enough for her liking --

"Rarity," he breathed into her neck; she moaned back. "Would you like a little bit of, ah . . . lubricant? I have some Wonderglide in the nightstand . . . "

Before he could finish the sentence, she had it in her magic, floating beside them, and he looked at it, then at her, with a wide, confident smile. "I keep forgetting you're a unicorn," he chuckled.

They shifted apart a bit; she drizzled slick cool fluid on her sex, then floated the bottle away to sit on the nightstand. She appreciated the offer more than he could realize; Rarity had found herself with a bit of a dryness problem on occasion, and one or two of her paramours had been a bit less than understanding. It's nice to be with a stallion who doesn't have some silly idea about how wet a mare's supposed to get, she thought, and the thought was warm as a blanket on a cold night.

Thoughts were pushed away as Neurotransmitter reached down between them, and she felt his warm-almost-hot flesh nudge against her own newly-soaked slit, pressing, insistent and pressing, and then they gasped together as his member spread her entrance enough to slide in.

Suddenly he was kissing her again, sucking on her lower lip as she panted, her forelegs around his neck, and he pushed in further, flesh that seemed almost hot stretching her, quivering as she did, and then he filled her. A cry of need came from her; a silly thought floated through her head --

I cannot imagine how my mane will look in the morning

-- but then he was licking her lips instead of sucking, and she was licking at his lips as well, and he was starting to retract and the sensation was delicious and overwhelming and tight, but then he was pushing back in and his hoof moved between them, finding her nub -- and then she couldn't quite think about anything any more, thoughts weren't what drove it, needs drove it --

She came, wrapped in his forelegs, crying out into the night shrill and wanton, and felt his own release a moment later, the tight pulse of tension in his testicles as they were snug up against her body, the release deep inside her, the lovely cooling bliss of his squirts and jets, the shuddering pulses that came at the end. Her orgasm washed across her with another earthquake as he was finishing, and she felt his hoof work at her nub with a little more insistence, trying to make her own release last as long as he could.

It was some while before she caught her breath again, but he'd settled down by that point, letting her pleasure taper off just when it was starting to get a hair painful.

"Neuro," she whispered, voice husky and even a little touch raw.

"Mmmm . . . " He stroked her mane. "Thank you, Rarity."

She giggled and stroked his mane as well; somehow, she'd found herself at a loss for something intelligent to say. With magic, she pulled the blanket up over the both of them. "Thank you, Neuro," was all she could manage.

That was the first night they'd slept together.

***

Of course, now, thinking back, she understood what he was really looking at -- her lip. Her bleeding lip. If only I'd known! How did I miss that?! Even now, she wished it had just been the kiss, or even just that night of passion, but . . . it hadn't.

Neurotransmitter was done bandaging her head. He leaned to press his lips against her cheek, and she turned her head away.

"Rarity . . . please, don't be like that. What if I'm right? What if you'll be perfectly happy once this little . . . issue . . . is ironed out?"

She kept her head where it was -- she had control of nothing else -- but she could hardly believe the idea. This stallion had seemed so delightfully perfect, and then turned out to be so . . . depraved.

As much as she hated to admit it, she missed him.

He was quiet for a while. "I am sorry, Rarity. I am. But I'll make it up to you; you'll see. Once your little issue is dealt with, things will be better." He leaned further and kissed her cheek, because she could only turn her head so far. "I promise."

"You promised a lot of things," she whispered.

"It was an honest misunderstanding," he murmured. "At first. Then, well . . . it simply became too important to let go." His hoof moved to settle over her right one, still held in the leather restraints that kept her on the bed. She wanted to squirm, but she didn't want to waste the energy. "You became too important to let go."

"Please just go," she murmured.

He went back upstairs.

She'd described their first night of passion in great detail to Fluttershy at one of the spa visits, and the yellow pegasus had turned deep deep orange, and squeaked something congratulatory. She'd half done it just to see the reaction, but she knew Fluttershy meant it, too. She had talked about it with the rest of the girls at one point or another -- collecting an unfortunate response from Applejack about her being 'out of season'. Really, Applejack!

Suddenly she missed all the girls than she cared to admit. She pushed the heartache away; she had a crisis she was dealing with. She had to figure him out more. How could I have been so wrong? So utterly wrong?

After that first lovely night, she tried to entice her way to his bed the date after that one, but things never quite worked out -- he would get paged with some emergency, or something would come up -- or, occasionally, he'd do something that ruined the mood, quite unintentionally. It seemed perfectly innocent; after all, he was a very busy doctor. It took nearly two months after before they had shared a bed again, but the one at Carousel Boutique. But that time . . .

. . . that was the night he'd revealed his urges, and the next morning she had unceremoniously removed him from her life.

***

They'd come back to her place, that night. She had chuckled and offered to make coffee, and he'd smiled back and accepted as graciously as always.

Small talk had given way, after a while, to Rarity . . . hinting. Hinting about the first night they'd spent together, and how nice it was. Neuro blushed a little and admitted -- not for the first time -- that it was a night of passion he'd never forget.

She was about to broach the subject of why they hadn't tried to repeat it any time soon when he'd approached her and kissed her, hard, too hard --

He was biting her lip, in matter of fact.

There was the faintest little snap of a blood vessel, and then she could taste it, and he was hungry again. His hunger fed hers, and it didn't take long before his gray face was as flush as her white one. Passion moved them along without attention to detail; their coffee, again, became cold on the table, forgotten.

They found their way to her bed, and in the morning, she had reflected on the delirious primality of the night before, his . . . intense need, sudden and unbounded. If only she could provoke it a little more . . .

She started immediately, that morning. Decorum be damned; she was still sticky with his issued seed down there, and he with her own juices! Her own bedroom, on a brilliantly sunny morning, with him right there, blissful and slumbering; she was going to have him.

She started licking at his neck, and soft little sounds of pleasure started to come from his throat; they gained intensity as she rubbed her hooves over his haunches, his chest, his sides . . .

Those green eyes had opened, and he'd smiled wide. Everything inside her sang when she saw him smile like that; bliss and lust stitched such a look on a face, and he reached towards her face . . .

. . . and brought back his hoof, with a droplet of blood.

I split my lip again? She blinked in surprise, and then he brought it to his lip and licked it, slowly, watching her, as if he somehow thought the act would . . . excite . . . her . . .

Pieces fell into place, but she had to know. "Neuro . . . what made you bite my lip last night?"

He looked like Sweetie Belle did when she had gotten into the cupcakes without permission . . . except he was also confused. Odd. "Why . . . wouldn't I?" He tilted his head. "Rarity, are . . . are you not, um . . . "

She swallowed. It wasn't me at all! It was the blood! "Neuro, please. Just . . . explain, if you would. It'd be best for both of us if we have an explicit understanding of the situation, I think."

Fear crept into his expression now. "I . . . I like blood, Rarity. I thought you'd kind of . . . picked up on it. You stumbled over your hooves at my place -- "

"I stumbled!"

" -- you're never that clumsy! You spilled coffee and then you tripped? I've never seen you even misstep before!"

"You thought I was some sort of pervert because I tripped?!"

Words flew back and forth, but increasingly she was rageful, and he was defensive and looking hurt. She didn't care! How unbelievable! How . . . violating! She'd gotten him out the door, not listening to his protests, not paying any of it any heed. She'd been used. She was a victim here. He was starting to cry -- boo-hooing about how he'd miss her, when he was the worst, most twisted sort of stallion! She wasn't having any of it. He'd not only assumed she was a pervert, he'd used her to satisfy his bizarre little cravings, his freakish little desires! She was just the first one who'd indulged any of it -- that was why he seemed so responsive, so feeling, so warm!

It was simply the worst thing she could imagine!

***

It wasn't any more.

Now, the worst thing she could imagine was being strapped to a table, her mane shaved and wires in her brain, waiting for her neurologist ex to come start turning her mind into scrambled eggs.

No, wait -- worst thing now? Not having to wait, because here he is, coming down the stairs. Celestia preserve me . . .

"I'm feeling a bit . . . better . . . now." He smiled, but there was still guilt on his face.

What? What is it? She was hungry to understand what twisted gears were turning in that broken mind of his. Rarity, you know better. Play to your strengths; move slow and probe. You can play him; you've got time. Use it. "Neuro . . . you seem so pained." She tilted her head a little, and gave a wince; his response to that was . . . a little more guilt! Excellent. If I can make him feel bad about what he's doing, I can eventually make him give this up, perhaps. She almost felt sorry for him. Once this failed -- or once he gave up of his own accord -- he'd lose his medical license, and almost definitely his freedom.

"Rarity . . . do you honestly think this has been easy for me?" He trotted towards her, and those green eyes spoke of pain. "I gathered that you think I'm . . . damaged. Let's say that's the case, for a moment. Then what kind of strain do you think that's left upon me?"

She sighed and looked away. "I'm sorry, Neurotransmitter, but . . . it's simply unacceptable. The thing you asked me to do, and the thing you're trying to do now."

"Why? What's wrong with it? If . . . if it's two consenting adults -- "

"No! It . . . " Her voice faltered as she looked back at him; he seemed to flinch. " . . . it doesn't matter, anyway. I am not consenting."

He smiled and came a little closer. "You will, Rarity."

"It won't be real, Neuro! This . . . look at me! Look at this!" She tugged at the straps. "Does this look like I'm consenting?"

"Not the procedures," he said, sighing. "And you'll still be you, Rarity. Just minus that particular . . . issue. We covered this territory already, yesterday, Rarity, don't you recall?"

"I recall the inane babblings of -- "

He'd already nosed the panel, and pain and depression flowed through her as sure as if she was a hose hooked up to a spigot of the stuff. She struggled in her binds, whimpering, crying already, shaking her head. "Please, please, j-just stop, Neuro, please . . . "

It stopped again, and she found herself feeling short of breath somehow.

"Rarity." He looked at her, almost with a stern expression. "I won't let you do this to yourself. I won't let you cheat yourself out of happiness out of some misguided sense of propriety! It's one thing to adhere to proper behavior in public most of the time, but you'd agree even that has limits, wouldn't you? Why should it matter what we do in private?"

"It . . . " She shook her head. "Maybe it doesn't. Maybe it is simply a preference on my part. I don't know! Please, just . . . don't do that again, Neuro, please."

He gave her a sad smile. "Soon enough, I won't have to."

That sent a shock through her. What does he mean by that?! He . . . he couldn't possibly be thinking of disposing of me? Could he? The fresh jolt of fear left a chill as it passed out of her; she forced herself to breathe slowly, bit her lip --

He was staring. Staring in that same way as before . . . and then he nosed the panel again.

Ecstasy coursed through her veins, washed through her flesh; she felt sure she was glowing, if only she could open her eyes. The thick needy moan that came out of her was accompanied by the creaks of the leather holding her to the uncomfortable little bed, and after it was done, she swore she caught the faintest scent of herself. Celestia, please don't let me be wet. I don't want to encourage him, I really don't.

He was close, when she opened her eyes again. Of course -- that taste in her mouth, again. She'd bitten her lip in the throes of the machine's electrical joy jolt, hard enough to draw blood.

"Rarity . . . look." He touched her lip; she turned her head, but he'd already gotten a red drip of it on his hoof. "Look. It's beautiful, sweetheart. I'm going to show you the beauty of it."

She kept her head turned. I will not let him show me, I do not want to see. She heard his hooves on the floor -- towards the console! -- and turned her head involuntarily, just in time to see him lick the blood off his hoof and tap at the console with the other hoof --

Again, the best feeling she'd ever had came into her brain through the electrode's stimulation. Oh, goddess, if I could ride this forever it'd be the best. I wonder if I can get him to just turn this on permanently. I couldn't think about anything at all any more, just the simple absolute bliss --

"Rarity?" There was something triumphant on his face, something . . . petty, that had been satisfied.

She blinked at him, panting; she could feel the spreading warmth in her body, the flush on her face. "Neuro . . . please . . . "

"You know why you've been down here, don't you?" His forehead was furrowed; he had the look of a parent after they'd delivered their first spanking. "I wouldn't need twenty-five electrodes just to make you feel good and bad, Rarity. I've been mapping your memories."

What? What could that possibly mean? Creeping fear pawed at her mind; she was still breathless. " . . . explain? Please?" Even just knowing would be better than not knowing.

"The details are a bit . . . technical, to be fair. I understand it mostly because I worked directly with the mare who developed it. I can give you the broadest strokes, however, and that should bring you to understanding, I think."

She swallowed and nodded. She was hungry -- no, wait. She wasn't. Why aren't I hungry?

"There are twenty-one emotional triggers available in the equine mind -- well, for pony races, anyway. There are theories about zebras, but that's not relevant, really. Those triggers -- in some combination and strength -- account for all the known emotional states of any pony.

"The system over there isn't simply built to send electrical stimulation -- it's far more complex than that. It's a feedback analysis system and a feedback tailoring system, built for suppressing certain seizures in the brain." He hesitated, and shrugged. "Certain seizures are presaged by specific activity patterns in the brain. For seizure patients, those electrodes can be installed, their patterns monitored, and then the feedback system can be set to trigger whenever the patient is about to have a seizure.

"Neuro . . . I . . . I'm having a little trouble understanding. Can you . . . clarify?" She understood just fine. She just hoped she was wrong.

He swallowed. "What I told you when you first woke up was a lie. It killed me inside, it absolutely did, but I had to. I needed you to think you had time, and go over experiences with me in your head. That way I could grab the valleys of mood activity corresponding to the disgust, and set up a feedback system to give you the Bad Rarity combination whenever you started feeling that particular disgust again."

She blinked. She'd been right, in what she'd understood. He was trying to make the thing automatically detect the disgust she felt about blood -- perhaps even anything sexual, she wasn't quite sure -- and systematically punish her for it, so that eventually she'd avoid even having the emotion.

"I haven't activated it yet, though." He tilted his head. "Tell the truth, Rarity. Don't you wish, just a little, that you had liked the idea? Don't you wish that?" She saw something on his face -- he was seeking something like acceptance, even forgiveness, from her.

Her resolve tightened like a wedding dress after ten years. "Absolutely not!"

He tilted his head. "I know you're lying, Rarity. I saw the look of anguish on your face after you told me goodbye; the private investigator told me how many nights you spent crying. It broke my heart." He shook his head. "I think you truly know on some level, that this is the right thing to do."

"Please. Neuro, listen to me! This is a mistake. This is going to remove my free will, in some little way! It's simply abhorrent! I . . . I don't want to be changed! This is wrong!" Nothing she said stopped him from turning, trotting towards the console, and tapping at it with his hoof. "Neuro, it . . . it won't be me. It will change who I am. Isn't that a possibility? A dreadful one, to be sure. Is that what you want to happen?"

He stopped, hesitated, and looked back at her. "Rarity . . . if it's not you when I'm done, there . . . there'll be other doctors who can fix you. But . . . I have to try." He turned back to the console. "I want you too badly not to."

"Please, Neuro! Please!"

He looked back after a few more moments, his hoof over a part of the panel. Distinct, unmistakeable uncertainty was on his face, and his lips were tight; she swore he was actually trembling. "This . . . Rarity, I hope this works. I wouldn't want to lose you." He swallowed. "Not twice. I couldn't bear it."

His hoof came down on the console.