Moments earlier

Doug lets the pink and purple wing drop back into the warm, sudsy water, and Cadance carefully keeps it away from her barrel. Bubbles from the gallon of Rarity’s most potent soap spill out the over-full sides and completely cover the two alicorns. Oftentimes only their mirthful eyes are visible underneath the sheer quantity of bubbles amongst which they happily frolic, and sometimes not even those!

Cadance is on my left, Luna is on my right.

He has to remind himself of this every so often, as the act of cleaning and then massaging the alicorns has quickly and continuously got him quite excited. It helps to kneel, so he isn’t resting anything on top of them, though that particular problem is lessened for the alicorns. It doesn’t help that they press against him, pushing his knees into and under their bellies, eager for his fingers to dig into their coats and extract every last little bit of gunk. Which is disgusting, worse than tree sap, for all it gets into every nook and cranny and sticks there, but he isn’t going to tell them that.

“So,” Cadance asks, curious and elated, gleefully fluttering her now-clean wing. It shines under the bright, noon-day sun, plenty of pegasi in the air keeping everything nice and clear. As soon as it hits the water it is once again covered in an opaque film of bubbles, but those wash off easily. “Is this the worst thing you’ve ever had to clean up?”

“It’s kinda like changing diapers,” Doug answers jovially, giving Luna a reassuring rub, reminding her that he hasn’t forgotten about her, before reaching across Cadance to address the wing on her far side. It’s taking forever, not that he minds, not at all. The ponies are far too soft and cuddly for their own good, and the soap is only making that worse. “And you all change those with your mouths.” Including Rainbow Dash, who is understandably reticent about getting her wings dirty, and loves having him help her preen, whenever he can. “I’m not complaining.”

“Mm, and you’re so much better than hooves or magic,” Cadance moans as he stretches her wing out, then goes feather-by-feather, nearly having to pluck them out to get the gunk around the base. Maybe Celestia has some cleansing spell or other, not that she wants it. Not when this feels so good! Maybe he could teach her Shiny a thing or two?

“Or the brush,” Luna bitterly concedes, casting an evil eye at the bristly brush long since confined to the sidelines. Why did Doug have to start on her, only to find it drove the drops deeper? At least he finished her wings already, and they lie comfortably against that small section of coat. She consoles herself by pressing closer against him; his backside feels nice, as it doesn’t even need to be his hands that help diffuse that icky substance.

“Yeah,” Doug commiserates as Luna forces him into Cadance. Cadance left, Luna right. Something about magic, and him neutralizing it. He hopes he’ll be able to hold a pen after he’s done. “Now, back to the story. You told them about thinking about the Elements in their day-to-day life. And then?”

“And then we left,” Luna answers before Cadance can provide an explanation, still a little miffed.

“...Huh.” Doug wipes away a clump of suds to reveal Cadance’s cutie mark, her light blue heart about the size of both hands spread out side by side. It looks normal, not pulsing like before she left. He automatically squeezes it, not really thinking, enjoying the firm muscles softer than any of his ‘working’ mares but not as supple as Luna or Celestia. The pink hip seizes up from the contact, briefly worrying him, though bits of gunk seep out with rivulets of soapy water. He’ll need to give the area a lot of attention, and pledges to keep himself in check.

“Mmmm,” Cadance moans, not really an explanation, her forelegs sinking down and her rear sticking up higher. Her tail swishes from side to side, not that he can precisely tell with all the bubbles; there’s just this big white mass flopping from side to side where her tail should be.

“Just like that?” Doug asks, working his way to her wings and failing to quash the thoughts about what else is back there. It’s not like any of the mares cover up, though longer, styled hairs cover the intimate areas. Cadance slowly recovers, standing back up without a hint of embarrassment. Or, if there is any regret, it is that he didn’t get her back legs enough. Her legs twitch and tense uncomfortably before she settles back down. “Did you do, well, whatever it is you needed to do?”

“We hope so.” Cadance offers Luna a mollifying grin, rather than the glower that threatens to surface. Why do I feel like fighting, like two mares vying over their stallion? There’s plenty for us both! Even if it takes longer, which isn’t a bad thing.

Doug slows as he stares off into space, his hands absently running over her wings, working over the same spot.

When this continues for several seconds Cadance ruffles her wing, light purple eye glancing over. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just thinking,” Doug answers after a moment, shaking his head while resuming his cleansing assault. Keeping the mares soaped up seems to make it easier, so he reaches down to dump more bubbles on Cadance. Cadance left, Luna right. He cautiously starts on the… sensitive... area at the base of her mane. Even just lathering the soap on gets her breath to hitch, and he hopes she doesn’t interpret it as something more. Not that he’d mind… No, stop that!

“A-about?” Cadance asks, attempting to keep herself distracted. Dipping lower doesn’t help, it just makes her think she’s about to be mounted; dunking her head under works, only her ears above water.

“What thoughts you have that keep cropping up, that might need to be addressed.” Doug reaches to the mare behind him - Luna - and rubs reassuringly along her ears and horn. There, unleash that energy there. “I can guess what you’d say.”

“We worry entirely too much about international diplomacy,” Luna admits. And keeping everypony’s name straight. She clearly enjoys not giving Doug the answer he is looking for, though she has to flick her head to clear the bubbles from her muzzle so he can see her taunting smile, and the ensuing stroke along her chin is well worth it. “Though, we must admit, when allowed to wander our mind does turn to thoughts of… before.”

“Hey.” His fingers grip her jaw, twisting what was a downcast expression up and forcing her teal eyes to stare into his dark blue. He opens his mouth, several times, mulling over how to best respond. He decides on a firm, “That doesn’t have to be you.” He smiles, broadly, then gently pulls her head until it is resting on his back and shoulder as he turns back to Cadance. “And if it feels like it is, you can tell us. We’ll hold it against you, just like we would your beautiful body.”

Luna snorts at his audacity, yet doesn’t move from her position against his back; even laying across him seems to draw the goop from her belly. Laughing at his jokes, accepting his compliments, enjoying his company; perhaps our Sister was right, and we will come to not resent bearing his foal.

“If it’s not too much,” Doug asks, briefly reaching back to rub at her barrel, “what are you worried about happening? Like, specifics?”

“We…”

Luna’s legs quake, her ears lay flat, and her mind reflexively goes blank as she tries to evoke her past mindset and reflect on which thoughts, precisely, brought her closer to the shadowed brink, much like one flinches away after being burned by a stove. The touch helps immensely for calming her nerves; she pushes through, endures, her forelegs a vice that squeezes her stallion tight.

“We dwell on why our dear Sister does not assign us more prestigious assignments,” Luna admits with great reluctance. “Or recognize our accomplishments.”

Doug stays silent; she’s stated all this before, and he hopes she can reveal more about her thoughts and worries. For some time the only sounds are the scrubbing of sides as he works up Cadance’s long neck, slowly and methodically, going entirely by feel and making sure to get every inch.

Cadance, for her part, can barely contain herself. The tender touch is entirely too reminiscent of a stallion’s firm nuzzles and prompts, inducing her to a very receptive state. Her marehood strains against itself, and would be gaping open were it not for the layer of gunk that quite literally got everywhere. She’s glad Luna is talking and not her; she doubts she could stay coherent, much less keep her mouth from preparing her stallion for entrance.

Finally, Luna continues, her words dark and brooding. “And… and perhaps that is because our Sister truly is more capable. For did she not lower the moon and spread the stars during our absence? We studded the night sky for a century; She, the entirety for a millennium. What would prove we are equals?”

Luna’s legs tense, her once-pleasant smile twisting to a dour scowl. She feels helpless, powerless, against the proven might of her Sister. It is a feeling she cannot stand, one that drove her to such extremes and is threatening to do so once again. She can feel it building, a deep and persistent resentment against the one who merely claims to hold her dear, yet would banish her the moment she bucks the line!

And then, to her astonishment, she finds herself rising, her front lifting up as Doug turns around while between her hooves and stands. His arms wrap underneath her forelegs and around her barrel, squeezing tight and practically choking the dread thoughts from her mind. A certain numbness takes their place, akin to a changeling robbing her of emotion, yet no changeling would be able to fill her with warmth and hope from their trust.

He must have felt her shudder, the spasms as she fought her inner thoughts from manifesting. Yet she does not bottle them away, as she often does, or disparage herself for thinking them. For that is the message of Cadance’s call to the hippogriffs, was it not? That they indicate something is amiss, and something should be dealt with, not hidden away and allowed to fester. As she had so many years ago.

“What would it take?” Doug asks, muffled from mashing his face into her chest. He pulls back slightly. “What would help you overcome those feelings of inadequacy, that inability to forgive yourself for not being perfect?”

“As Celestia is?” Luna bitterly spits out, grasping at any way to turn this around, so she can avoid that purging fire a moment longer.

“You look up to her,” Doug says, unable to keep from quipping, “Literally as well as figuratively.” Luna snorts derisively. “You want to emulate her, to be her. But that means that she, even unintentionally, judges you. You know where you don’t measure up. Yet she herself is not the ideal, though perhaps she is the closest. And I don’t think that you should tear down all those that judge you.”

“We…” Luna starts, though stops before she can counter his statement at the end. Does she want to be judged? Well, she wants to be found flawless, that’s for sure. And, if she is being utterly and totally honest with herself, she does not like being found faulty, and resents any that might point it out. Or those that might abandon her to one better, as they had done before, abandon her Night for her Sister’s more glorious Day.

She hangs her head. Is there any hope for me?

Only, she finds her head pressed up, fingers holding at her jaw while thumbs tenderly run over her closed eyelids. It’s quite awkward and dangerous if he isn’t careful, yet she can feel the icky gunk washing off every crevasse. The corners of her eyes sting as soap invades; at his prompting she opens them, bright teal again meeting dark blue, and he stares past them to pick out the motes.

“Ready to keep going?” Doug asks, encouraging and hopeful she will, yet understanding if she doesn’t.

She doesn’t respond at first, allowing him to work the light fur from her muzzle backward. She can almost feel him guiding her downward, and spots that slight smirk as he sneaks a finger to tease at her tongue.

“Perhaps later,” she answers with a light pinch of his finger. “When we are not so… distracted.”

“I have an idea,” Cadance adds, finally rejoining the conversation. She grins, perhaps a tad salaciously. “Though I’ll need to run it past Trixie.”

“I look forward to it.” Doug matches her grin as he continues along Luna’s head, making no effort to spare the sensitive areas around her ears and flowing mane, for all he can only make out her eyes.

Next Chapter: Ch. 88 - Coated Shrapnel, Part Four Estimated time remaining: 18 Hours, 4 Minutes