Title:           Boundless (15.2)
Author:          BoundlessAnon
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/Wqc1ffip
First Edit:      Tuesday 21st of February 2017 02:56:22 PM CDT
Last Edit:       Tuesday 21st of February 2017 02:56:22 PM CDT

You close the oil can and tuck it away in your bag. Yeah, this stuff stinks. But you can deal with that - there's bigger problems ahead. Number one: you need to apply the oil to the places where Boundless' belly is widest, ideally both inside and outside of the doorframe, but even with her head bowed down to your eye level she's still twice your height at the shoulder, and one of her sides is too close to the wall for you to even try and squeeze alongside. Number two: as it stands, you won't be able to oil her up without ruining her outfit, or at least her coat. Number three: somehow you need to avoid collapsing her brain into a singularity of awkwardness. And number four: you're still not completely recovered from the radsickness, so your coordination isn't at its best (which means that number three is probably impossible).
 
Nonetheless, you come up with a plan and explain it. Basically, you're going to have to climb on her back from the front and lay down between her wings. Then you'll oil her down, possibly ruining her coat if it's not washable. Then she'll wiggle her way free. Backwards. There is absolutely no way that this could go wrong.
 
Boundless, for some reason, looks deeply skeptical, and bumps you irritably with her head. "Please, hon. I know we're not quite on the same scale, but I'm not a climbing frame." But with that out of the way, she doesn't have an alternative to offer. Unless you do something she's going to be stuck there until her sisters find her butt sticking out into the corridor. Eventually she relents with a long sigh and extends her wing, giving you room to climb up. You're not too heavy, fortunately, but it's a bit of a scramble to make your way up onto her shoulders and sit down in the small of her back. You have to rear up just to get your forehooves onto her shoulder, and once you're up you wobble unsteadily, stuck between trying not to be too rough with her and fighting nausea. At the last second she uses her wing to nudge you back into position until you grip the base of her neck between your hindlegs. You glance back at her but she's not looking at you, instead just staring straight forward in a huff. If that wrecked Ponytron could feel emotion it would probably be melting under an overload of indignity right now.
 
There's a couple of feet of open doorway between her back and the top of the door, so you've got a little bit of room to move, but not too much. You can't sit up straight or anything like that. Unwilling to put the alicorn through any more humiliation than nescessary, you decide to get to work. You set out the tin of oil on her back and open it up again, warning her to hold still. This is all for nothing if it gets spilled. "I'm not going anywhere, hon," she says impatiently, "you're the one wiggling - your tail keeps swatting my face!"
 
You take that as constructive criticism. Oh well - time to get this done. You dip your hoof into the tin of oil - it's thick and sticky, probably more than it should be thanks to centuries in storage, but you work with the tools you have. Leaning over to one side, you have to reach down to where Boundless' midsection bellies out to meet the doorframe. The second your hoof touches down she goes "Eeep!" and quivers from head to tail, almost sending you tumbling facefirst off the side. Now who's wiggling? Boundless snorts and straightens up again. "It's cold and slimy! I, ah... I wasn't ready for it, that's all." You respond by putting your hoof back down and giving her a good firm rub, smearing the oil all over the smooth, rounded surface of her tummy where it meets the doorway. Some of it soaks into her coat. Boundless makes a wordless noise of protest, her wings twitching and tail swishing; she's obviously fuming right now, but there's nothing left to do but get on with it. It can't be all *that* bad - she's willing to put up with it, at least.
 
To make matters worse, it looks like the foals are awake. Your job's made harder by the fact that every so often the surface of her skin will subtly move as they kick or squirm around. Eventually, by the time you've applied a thin coat of oil to the sides of her belly, she's grumbling under her breath. You sit up, insomuch as that's possible, and ask her to try moving. She braces her legs, wiggles her body, and... goes nowhere. You guess you were a bit halfhearted with the oil - looks like you'll need to use more. Boundless lets out a long-suffering groan and bows her head. "Just stop talking about it and get me out of this doorway."
 
This time, instead of dipping your hoof into the tin and spreading it around manually you take the whole thing and simply tilt it, dropping a great big glob of oil onto the upward curve of her belly just above the doorway. It slides down under the effect of gravity, speeding up as the slope becomes more sheer, and parts around the frame. It's messy, but if this doesn't work nothing will. You repeat the process on the other side, using up the last of the oil, and pat her down a little to make sure as much of it's in the right place as possible. Your hooves practically glide across the surface - her belly practically glistens wherever the oil is thin enough to be translucent, and you can hear the excess dripping onto the ground. This time though, Boundless doesn't wait for you to tell her to move; she wriggles restlessly, digging her hooves into the ground, and this time she actually moves! Finally free, she backs up a few steps - and you hit your head on the top of the doorframe.
 
Everything goes a bit fuzzy for a few seconds. You're vaguely aware of Boundless setting you down and sitting at your side. "I'm so sorry, hon! Are you alright?" You shake your head to try and unscramble your brain - it hurts, but it doesn't feel like anything serious. You try to sit up and end up about halfway, wobbling a bit before slumping over against Boundless' warm, comforting (and now very oily) belly. Yeah, you're fine. Completely fine. You both share a few seconds of awkward silence, and then she starts laughing.
 
There's a sudden snapping sound and a rush of displaced air, cutting her off. You blink a few times and find Auriga looming over the pair of you, her horn still glowing as it winds down from her teleport spell. The taciturn mare does not seem amused by the sight in front of her.
 
"Auri! Hi! Don't worry, we're fine," Boundless stammers, "we're just resting. He's still a little sick, aren't you, hon?" You nod groggily, vaguely aware of a small glob of oil dribbling off Boundless and down your foreleg.
 
Auriga doesn't budge an inch. "I heard strange sounds, Sister. And you're filthy. What were you doing?"
 
"We were exploring! There's some fascinating things in that room, even a computer. You should tell Corona about it; she loves computers."
 
The purple mare is having none of it. "Sister, if you'd rather not discuss your dealings, then do not. There is no need to protect yourself by lying. I care about your safety, not your..." She eyes the oil smeared across Boundless' flank as if it were toilet water, "hobbies." She offers a hoof dispassionately. "Please get up off the ground. You should rest somewhere a little safer and more private."
 
The pair of you stand up and awkwardly fall in line behind her as she leads you back towards the break room. The moment Auriga turns a corner, Boundless tilts her head and looks at you over her shoulder, her expression so serious and strict that even Auriga might be cowed if she could see it. Her horn flickers dimly, and suddenly you can hear her voice echoing in the back of your mind.
 
"We will never speak of this again."
 
You nod hastily, sufficiently intimidated by the spooky magical mutant mind-speak. Yeah, keeping that particular misadventure a secret would probably be for the best...