Let’s see, let’s see. I’m a bright-eyed and bushy tailed young mare.

Doug stretches out his hand, waggling his fingers in front of his face as he blows out, his eyes closed in concentration. His hand drops down, and once it reaches his chest his head snaps up.

“Mooom! Daad! ~I’m home!~”

Doug’s voice rings out through the Boutique, slightly higher pitched than normal. Rarity can’t help but snicker.

“I just met the most wonderful stallion!” Doug flutters his eyelashes, breathlessly exhaling with the largest smile he can plaster on. “He’s an itinerant hairdresser who almost graduated from Mane School!”

Rarity’s snickering halts. Is that what he thinks I do? Her voice deepens as far as it can go. “Well, sport, he sounds like a fine catch.”

“Oh, like you wouldn’t believe! He’s really fiscally responsible, too, because he just moved back in with his parents!” Doug sighs dreamily. What else, what else. “He said sleeping on his friend’s couch just isn’t good enough for him anymore!”

Rarity snorts indignantly. Hey! I live with my parents! “Well, I can’t wait to meet him!”

“That’s the best part! You don’t have to!” Doug takes another deep breath, this time even more gratingly annoying. “Hey, Pops! I just flew in from Cloudsdale, and boy are my hooves tired from sitting in that balloon!” Doug looks around exaggeratedly, spotting a red chaise lounge. His eyebrows furrow in disappointment. “Ugh! So tacky! Hey, Pops, can you spot me some bits?

“Um, sure,” Rarity ekes out through gritted teeth. “Just-”

Doug cuts her off. “Don’t worry~! I’ll make this place fabulous in moments!” He then yawns melodramatically as Rarity gives him her best death glare. “Right after I take a nap! You would not believe how exhausting it is to be as cool as I am!”

“Come on, Doug!” Rarity whines as he stops halfway to her couch. “Nostallion in Equestria would act that boorishly!” She glares around the room, almost like she’s afraid if her gaze rests on any one spot for too long it might spontaneously combust. She grumbles, the only discernible words being ‘tacky’ and ‘I’ll show you’.

“You thought that was bad?” Doug retorts, his voice back to normal. “I mean, at least he asked for bits instead of just taking them to waste on, uh, cider and salt.” He waves his hand at her, “And it’s not like your ‘stallion’ was any better. What kind of self-respecting parent would let their kid get mixed up with someone like that, and just go around enabling them?”

“Rrgh!” Rarity angrily stomps a hoof, anger boiling inside her. “There’s no way I would find a stallion like that, and my sire wouldn’t stand somestallion that self-centered!”

Doug folds his arms across his chest. “I thought this was a ‘hypothetical’ sire and his filly.”

“I don’t believe for a second that you could be so obtuse.” Rarity’s head drops as she huffs. “Why bother role-playing if you aren’t going to learn anything from it?”

“Well, it could be fun, or some sort of escapism.” Doug sighs as Rarity casts him a look of long-suffering. “Or that was rhetorical. Regardless, if you want to vent about your sire, just say it. I don’t mind playing devil’s advocate, or whatever you’d call that.”

“I don’t need to vent about my sire!” Rarity spits out. “I want him to be happy for me when I tell him of somestallion in my life, and not try to force my hoof when he disagrees!”

“It sounds,” Doug says, drawing his words out; it gets Rarity to calm down, if slightly. “Like you want your sire to let you make your own choices.”

Rarity rolls her eyes. “That wasn’t obvious?” Her breath comes out in a long, frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, my heat is just throwing my emotions all over the place.”

“It’s fine, I’m trying to make sure I understand you.” Doug sits down, patiently watching the unicorn. His arms are spread wide, hands resting on bent knees. “It’s tough, knowing when to discipline your kids, or foals, and when to let them figure things out on their own. But I think he would be understanding of what you’re going through, if you talk to him and let him know what you feel.”

“But what if I’m not? What if I’m not his little filly any more? I’ve grown up. I know it, and he knows it. I run my own store, I have a life, separate from his.” Rarity sinks down, staring at the floor.

“It sounds like you’re worried about growing up. Of growing apart, as things change. But that’s life, isn’t it?” Doug beckons with his hands as Rarity glances up; the unicorn hesitates, then slowly walks until she’s in reach, her gear clinking along. His hand scratches at her muzzle as her head dips down, resting on his knee.

“But what if I’ve done something,” Rarity whispers; Doug strains to hear. “That drives us apart, where he doesn’t love me any more?”

“Well,” Doug deliberates for a moment. “How do you know that he loves you?”

“What kind of question is that?” Rarity growls out. Her legs tense, threatening to walk away. “Of course he loves me.”

“I believe you,” Doug says, hand firmly scratching at Rarity’s back and trying to mollify her. “How does he show that love? What actions, what words does he use.”

Rarity frowns, even as she enjoys the contact. “Well, he’s always very physically affectionate with me. Little nuzzles, rubbing shoulders.” She scowls, but there’s mirth behind it. “Messing with my mane.” Her horn lights, undoing her ponytail; her mane curls on its own, though not quite to her characteristic style.

Doug runs his hands through that mane, tentatively at first. It takes a moment, but Rarity pushes her head forward as her body slides to the side, her forelegs resting in the space between his legs while her body lays across him. She settles down, focusing on nothing in particular, as his fingers dig into her back, teasing out stray knots and eliciting light moans.

“He calls me ‘sport’, just like when I was a little filly.” Rarity’s voice is fond, almost remorseful, as her mind evokes images of her sire with his short cropped mane and tail, the two of them bounding about in the nearby parks. “And we would go out and toss a hoofball around. He was just breaking into the earth pony side of the game, trying out for the Miners, and had to practice a lot with using his hooves. I wasn’t much better, even with my horn, so we spent a lot of time chasing loose balls.”

“I loved doing the same thing with my dad,” Doug says quietly, not wanting to disturb the pensive mare in his lap. “Baseball, soccer, football. Tossing a Frisbee in the street.” He looks down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. I want to do the same with my kids.

“I don’t want to lose that.” The purple curls sag along with the mare. “I want him to keep calling me ‘sport’, to see me as his precious little filly, to keep that loving bond we had.” Rarity glances around the room, her muzzle curling to a delighted smile. “He would take me to his games, and I wanted to be the closest filly to the action. I hated having to sit on the sidelines - I wanted to be right next to him! Well, after I got my cutie mark, I made that dream a reality. I made myself an outfit.”

“That sounds precious,” Doug says, smiling.

Rarity cuddles into Doug’s chest, a hoof limply dismissing the compliment. “It was quite simple, really; at the start it was little more than a burlap sack and an oversized miner’s hat that covered my horn. Every time we scored, I would add another hoofball to the sack. Oh, Doug, you should have seen me! A young mare, barely up to my sire’s barrel, yet by the end of some of our routs I was towing around two sacks twice my size absolutely stuffed, all the while leading the crowd in our marching song about feasting and doom and all manner of earth pony nomenclature! Over time the outfit grew and grew as I added more and more to it. Thick boots that came up to bulky kneepads. More belts and straps than you could shake a pickaxe at, and the two at my side got quite a bit of shaking.”

“Sounds like you had a grand time of it,” Doug says, running a hand through her mane. Rarity nods, blinking away the wetness in her eyes. His lips curl to a smirk. “So, does it still fit?”

Rarity rolls her eyes. “Doug, I wore it as a filly. Of course it doesn’t fit.”

“Aww,” Doug returns, traveling along the edges of the cloth covering her belly. “I would have liked to see your performance.” He gives her flank a squeeze. “I bet you were adorable.”

“Well,” Rarity purrs, a hoof indicating her climbing garb, “this is the successor, if you will, of that mascot outfit long ago.” She runs that hoof along his inner thigh, drawing an elated shudder. “I’m certain you’d love to see it in action.”

“Genday, right?” Doug says, a twinkling in his eye.

“Right now.” Rarity’ hoof finds his member, though it’s far more difficult because of the boot on her hoof. She slowly strokes, quite able to feel him getting hard.

“I guess that’s a no to using a cooler,” Doug quips as he shudders. It’s not that the hoof is painful, there’s just a place he’d much rather be. His hand dances through her mane as he travels to her head, rubbing just behind her ears.

“Would you prefer that?” Rarity asks genuinely.

“Definitely not.” Doug tweaks Rarity’s ear, her head flicking up in response. “You’re okay with the potential consequences?”

“I…” Rarity’s coy expression fades, her head turning slightly to the side. Her voice is low and almost cold. “Doug, I was there. Hay, I projected the image.” Her hoof keeps moving, nearly getting him to full mast. “Have you considered adoption?” Rarity asks, shifting in his lap and trying to get him to mess with her curls. “Or even volunteering at the hospital; they’re always looking for hooves to interact with the foals and fillies there.”

It takes a few seconds for Doug to respond, his hands idly twisting Rarity’s soft coat. “I wouldn’t object to it, but I’m afraid of what the other ponies might say. Not a lot of them seem terribly keen on me doing, well, much of anything.”

“So we show them you’re able to be trusted around ponies.” Rarity giggles as Doug’s hand forcefully pushes into her head, and he only lets up as she takes a few steps backwards. And yet he keeps pressing, even as she steps away from him; he stalks after her, hand on her ear, until her rump bumps into the wall.

“And what better way to do that than by ‘taming’ me with your feminine wiles?” Doug grins as Rarity snorts. He gently tugs her ear upwards before dropping down and grabbing her forehooves.

“I must admit, the thought never crossed my mind. You aren’t wild enough to need breaking.” Rarity winks at Doug as he lifts her forelegs, bringing her to an awkward standing position. “I’ve always thought you would be good around foals; you’re very patient and careful.” She glances down her belly. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see you climb that wall.” Doug spins Rarity around, hands slipping under the cloth to fondle her teats as her barrel presses against the wall.

“Do you now.” Rarity’s smirk widens as she gently rolls her body up and down, a low purr rumbling in the back of her throat. Her whole body jolts as a finger slides across her slit, her tail forced to the side. She glances backwards, half expecting to see Doug lining himself up with her marehood, but the human merely pushes deeper inside her depths. She moans, her walls clenching around him as he finds that little nub, except he keeps going inside her, one bulge of a knuckle rubbing against her until his palm cups her outer lips.

“Higher.”

His harsh command spurs Rarity into action, a quick flick of her magic extending and locking the spikes into place. The thick rods, not unlike the cock standing at attention right next to her, aren’t exactly made for drilling into solid rock walls, but the plaster and wood of her Boutique would offer as little resistance as she did to the invading finger. A hoof raises, finding the stud in front of her, while the stud behind her pistons his finger out and then back in. She reaches her hoof back, nearly stumbling but for the hand ‘steadying’ her plot, and drives the first hole of what will be many into her once pristine wall.

Chips of plaster rain down on her, and she immediately thinks that a face shield would be a good addition to this outfit, as unflattering as it would be to wear. At least if she is going up, and the finger prodding her insides insists that she climb. Her horn lights again, this time a weak field just around her hoof to catch the stray particles as she drives a second hole a hoof higher than the first. Then come her hind legs, one knee awkwardly bent as the other one stays straight. And so she finds herself suspended in midair, only four rods rammed into the wood keeping her from falling. Hopefully they can make it a fifth.

She glances backwards. When she stands on her hindlegs her plot comes several hooves short of his stallionhood, and it would only take another step upwards to line them up perfectly. She wiggles her hindleg out, and that cursed finger inside her mimics the rod, only the barest tip teasing her. She straightens up, her muscles already beginning to protest the awkward motions, driving the rod into the wall.

She must not have noticed the finger slipping all the way out because the much larger rod driving its way into her catches her completely by surprise. She grunts as her barrel slams against the wall, all four hooves hugging as tight as her marehood around his length. Unable to do anything but take it she loses herself in the steady motions, even as her heat rekindles.

After a steady minute of pounding against the wall Rarity feels her own walls tighten around him, begging for that sweet release. Her eyes slam shut, moaning in pain and pleasure, her body denying her that ultimate pleasure until her stallion has done his duty. She rides it out, resting as he slows, and gives a curious glance backwards as he pulls out.

“Higher.”

“But, I would be too high,” is all her addled brain can come up with. Except he just walks away, and returns with one of her work tables. Her eyes widen as he places the sturdy table next to her.

“Higher.”

His command is unnecessary, her foreleg already starting the next hole. She can hear him stroking himself as she rises another two hooves, just three more to go to mirror the height of her table. Her tail swishes away his hand as it rubs against her dock, the frustrated snort letting her know her stallion will not be denied his prize much longer.

“Will you help me patch these holes?” Rarity asks as she pounds in the final post. She warily glances backwards, almost expecting Doug to have gotten all six of her work tables and stacked them like a Circus Solaris performer. To her relief he merely stands, rock hard erection waiting for her to lock herself in position.

“I’m thinking we leave it like this,” Doug says as he penetrates her soft folds, quickly working his way to full speed. “Remind you of our first time.”

“First?” Rarity says with a coy grin, knowing she would never deny her stallion entrance. “Nopony will believe it happened at all.”

“Then let them wonder what made these holes.” Doug slaps a hand against her marshmallowy flank as he pounds into her, this time feeling himself coming quickly. His eyes close, loving the feeling, especially as her walls tighten around him a second time. Five rods support the mare as he releases, the same white of her walls and coat now painting her insides.

The two hold that position for several long seconds as they recover, panting heavily. With a rueful sigh Doug pulls his member out, his hand pressing her outer lips together. Rarity, in a daze, methodically pulls her hooves out, Doug helping guide her to the table and then the floor.

“I hope it works,” Doug whispers into her ear as he lays down, his mare laying at his side, her head resting on top of his chest.

She cuddles into the arm wrapped around her, admiring how her hoofwork has imparted quite a new style to her wall. “Me, too.”

Next Chapter: Ch. 49 - Severed in Sleep Estimated time remaining: 9 Hours, 22 Minutes