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Tarnished Silver

By: Project100 on Dec 29th, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 46.84 KB | hits: 168 | expires: Never

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~ ~ ~
“No. No. No. No. No, no, no!” She circled it like a predator; every angle, every stroke of light, every possible way to look at it warranting a potential new judgement.
“It's really not that—”
“No,” she repeated. “Don't lie to me! Do you honestly think I can't see it for myself?!”
“I think you might be overreacting.”
“No, I am not!” Exaggeratedly, she pointed at it. “Look at it and tell me what you think!”
“Look, I told you—”
“No. Tell me what you think, honestly,” she asked, far more softly. “I need to know, Anon. My life depends on this.”
You mimicked her motions, slowly circling around the center of the room. Every time you paused to halt at a detail, you saw her bite her lip a little harder. By the time you'd made your tour, it was a wonder she hadn't drawn blood yet.
“It's . . .”
Her eyes widened in response and she leaned forward a little. “Yes?”
You tried to find a way to be nice about it, you really did. It wasn't for a lack of trying, but she asked for your honest opinion here. “It's . . .”
“Yes?”
“I'm so sorry, Rarity, but it's just really, really ugly.”
Out of nowhere, a chaise longue flew into the room and with a small bounce, the fashionista perked herself atop of it. “Oh, I know, dear! I know!”
“It's atrocious to look at.”
“Yes, it is! It truly is horrid!”
“It's hideous.”
“So hideous!”
Shaking your head, you sat yourself down besides her. “I feel uncomfortable just standing near it. I can't believe you made this.”
An exasperated sigh brushed past her alabaster lips. “Neither can I.”
“I'm sorry, but that's just really—”
Waving her hoof, she shushed you. “Oh, no no no, dear. I asked you for your views on the matter and I am ever so grateful you didn't withhold.” For just a moment she glanced back towards the marequin in the middle of the room and the abomination resting atop of it. “I knew this would turn out to be horrendous when I first started it.”
“Then why did you make it?”
She closed her eyes and seemed to sink away into her thoughts for a while.
“I don't rightfully know, I'm afraid. I thought that, perhaps, I could spruce things up, so to speak. A little lace here;”—She sighed again, letting her head fall back over the chair's edge—“some ribbons there; a diamond, two mayhap?”
More like two dozen.
With her eyes still closed, she pointed at the marequin, shuddering as she did so.
“I knew it to be a lost cause, but yet I tried. And now, I must admit that I failed. My once brilliant visions for fashion, now . . .” She opened her eyes.
You placed a hand down her back, stroking in reassurance. “You had a good run, don't you think? It's not the end of the world, you know? There's plenty of others things you could do with your talents.”
At that, she jumped up straight again and just as soon as it had come, the chaise longue disappeared into thin air again, unceremoniously dropping you on the ground. Where just a second ago she'd seem on the edge of depression, exuberance shone in her sapphire eyes as she took a daring stance.
“Oh, no, no, no, darling! This is not the end! This is a revolution!”
Oh God. You've seen her like this before. It never ends well.
Never.
“There used to be a time,” she exclaimed, her horn shimmering a royal blue as the lights in the room began to die down. A beam struck forth, hitting the wall where it began projecting images of stallions and mares walking down cobbled streets.
“Not another slideshow.”
She glared, less than a fraction of a second, and yet you knew to not try to disrupt her a second time.
“A time where stallions and mares would portray their riches! A time of splendor and grace.” Accompanied by a click, the image shifted. “They wore robes of the finest silks, lined with the gems that shone as brightly as they did! Truly, it was the pinnacle of the boerjoisee!”
Rarity's French — or Prench, whatever — had always spurred you on to commit suicide. “Bourgeoisie,” you corrected.
She glared again. “Oh, shush now. I'm trying to teach you something here.” She turned back towards her projection. “But lately, things have changed, Anon.” Stallions wearing only hats showed on the wall. “Times have grown different.” A mare wearing nothing at all appeared on the wall and for a moment you wondered whether this counted as sexually inappropriate behavior at work. Or should you show Rarity some pictures of nude humans in return?
A question for another time.
“Only the richest of the rich dress themselves in fine garments anymore. And even they!” She paused.
“. . . if you're trying to build up tension, don't bother, alright?”
Her face fell into a firm frown and with a snap of her head, she shifted the image yet once again. “Even they don't bother wearing refined clothing anymore!” The way she proclaimed it made it sound worse than murder. “I tried to resist, Anon. But it seems now we were wrong.”
“We?”
“The time has come, where displaying one's riches, has turned into a show of garishness. Ponies have turned more humble, and so their clothing has too.”
In the far-off corner of the room, you saw the clock nearly strike five. Work was almost over for today, thank the heavens.
“Okay, that's great and fine and dandy and all, but what I'm going to take away from that little 'show' of yours is that you're still going to make clothes, right?”
Her horn shone its radiant blue aura and the images cascaded, the room filling itself with light again. “No!” she asserted, her chest sticking forward in pride. “I will make art from now on!”
“So, I just have to come back tomorrow at the normal hour?”
“And art does not come without sacrifice and suffering!” she rambled on. “My visions, my dream of a Utopia where one and all would carry themselves in the shimmering excellence they deserve, must make place!” She looked up at you, her eyes pleading.
Heaving a sigh, you shrugged. She wouldn't let you out of here if you didn't, you were sure of it. “Room for what, Rarity?” you asked.
With a bounce in her step, she strode towards the dreaded marequin. “Why, room for renewal, Anon! Room for a new Rarity, with new designs!”
“Perhaps a new paycheck for the assistant?”
She tilted her head towards you and smiled a devious little grin. “Perhaps. I can not do this without you, Anon.”
“Really?” You've been working here for some time, sure, and you know a lot more about fashion and garment construction than you did when you started here. But to know that you were this important to her was something you didn't really expect.
She nodded enthusiastically, her luscious lavender locks bobbing along with the motion. “Oh yes, my dear.” Her horn shimmered and she levitated the dress of its holding. “The time of gems and ribbons and laces and frilly-frallies has gone!”
The fabric ripped as she tore the gems off. “Instead, my art will be refined as is desired by my cliejontel.”
“Clientèle,” you added. “Why would you even say that in French? It's a perfectly fine word i—”
“Oh shush, you.” First, the diamonds, coated in her blue aura. She trotted towards the backroom, the dress and gems floating in her wake. “They do not want silks, the purest of whites.”
You'd never set foot in Rarity's backroom; she'd always claimed it off-limits for you. “So I will give them cottons, impurely woven.” She tossed them into an enormous chest.
“They want their materials to be raw and unrefined,” she said, tossing the rubies back in the chest as well. “So I will give them buttons of tarnished silver.” With a final rip, she tossed the myriad emeralds, sapphires, topaz and amethysts back in the chest.
“And you will help me do so, dear.”
There isn't a clock in here. And Rarity doesn't pay overtime. “And how do you see that playing out?”
“It is quite simple, Anon.” Swinging her neck in a gracious arc, the chest fell close. “Gems and the likes are only humdrum these days, you see. I managed to work with them so well because well, hah — c'est moi, of course.”
Her lips pressed into a thin smile and already did you feel shivers of fright travel up and down your spine.
“Anon, dear, darling, sweetness—”
“Okay, that's three surnoms. Whatever it is that you're about to ask, I already don't like it.”
With an idle wave of her hoof, she turned her back on the chest. “These are worthless now. I need you to get rid of them for me and find me some genuine valuable materials instead.”
“Meaning what precisely?” you pushed.
“See, there's these creatures called Diamond Dogs—”
“Those things that kidnapped you?”
She nodded, her smile unfaltering. “Yes, those! Oh, I'm so glad to see you do pay attention every once in a while! Anyway, they are excellent diggers and I'm certain they have some gold or silver I could use to—”
“You want me to go trade your gems for gold and silver?”
“Precisely!”
“Are you insane?!”
She tittered a careless laugh, trotting back towards the display hall. “Oh, don't worry now, dear. I'm not asking you to do this today.”
You swear, these ponies have the oddest sense of humor sometimes.
“You can do it tomorrow. I know how cold it is for you, with winter only a few days away.” She turned towards you with a grand smile. “Don't you worry about a thing; I'll make you a nice, warm coat.”
“Oh, thank you, Rarity. At least I won't be cold when I got mauled by a group of vicious beasts. How considerate of you.”
Tutting, she stopped in the Carousel's entrance hall. “Oh, now who is the exaggerating one here?”
“They kidnapped you!”
“Well yes, but—”
“They gagged you!”
“Oh, I'm sure you'll be fine.”
“They bound you!”
“I never complained about that.”
“They used you as a mule! I don't want to be a mule, Rarity! I have this list of things that I want to do and being treated like a mule is nowhere on that list!”
“You will be rewarded handsomely.”
“I don—” . . . “Now, when you say ʻhandsomelyʼ?”
“Twice the usual,” she replied offhandedly.
“Twice?! I could die out there, I think that's worth a bit more than just double.”
“Between the both of us, Anon,” she began, “I am the one with the most experience in being kidnapped by Diamond Dogs. As such, with my expertise in this particular field of work, I deem the risk to be only so high that I'll pay you double.”
“I should've just said ʻyesʼ when Applejack asked me if I wanted to work for her.”
Rarity's muzzle scrunched up in disgust. “But then you'd be all sweaty and, ugh, dirty . . .”
“And now, death potentially awaits me. Seems pretty fifty-fifty to me.”
The alabaster unicorn sighed, glancing at the clock. “Let me make you an offer. I'll pay thrice the usual and I'll give you the remaining pictures of that mare I showed you earlier.” You tried to retort, but she silenced you aptly, raising her brow. “Oh, don't think I didn't see you stare.”
Tense moments followed in which you debate—
Oh, you didn't debate jack. That was one fine looking pony and you know it.
“So . . . Normal hour then?”
Rarity's laughter rang through the air as she walked back towards the private part of the Carousel. “See you in the morning, darling.”
~ ~ ~
“I did a little hearing here and there,” she said, levitating the coat on your frame. You can say what you want about this penurious pony, but she knows how to make a warm garment.
“What else is new?”
She poked you in the ribs, hard. “You should be glad I did some research or this entire ordeal would have amounted to nothing!”
Rubbing the sore spot, you looked down on her to find her shooting a nasty glare up at you. “Alright, alright. I'm sorry, jeez.”
She snorted undignified, white vapor trailing skywards as effect. “Apparently, from what I've been told, the Dogs left the fields southern of Sweet Apple Acres. Supposedly, they've emptied the grounds there entirely.”
The unicorn's magic came to life and from the inner pocket of your coat floated a map. “Now, luckily for you,” she began, “Twilight told me that they most likely went further south, towards the mountains.” She marked a small area on the map with her horn. “There.”
You took the map out of Rarity's glow, examining it for yourself. Studying the area Rarity had marked, you found your brow to be dropping quickly. “Now, I know I'm not from around these parts, Rarity.” The fashionista looked up at you and you crouched down so she could see the map for herself. “But Ponyville is on the other side of the map.”
Her eyes widened for a second before she snatched it out of your hands with her telekinesis. She nervously giggled before quickly removing the mark. “I must have held it upside down. Haha, silly me!” Flipping the map around, she made a new mark. “There!”
“That's Applewood.”
She turned it another ninety degrees, looking up at you with doubt in her eyes. “H-Here?”
“Manehattan.”
“Well then!” She shoved the map back in your arms. “I got you a map! I'm sure you'll be able to find your way.”
Pocketing the map into your very warm coat, you shrugged. “Sure, I'll manage. So, gems?”
“Follow me,” she ordered, trotting around the Boutique. Out back stood a little red wagon with atop of it, Rarity's chests of gems. “I expect at least half this amount in golds and silvers back.”
“There's no way a stupid little cart can hold two and a half chests full of gold and silver.”
“This stupid little cart”—She harshly flicked your leg with her tail—“is magically enchanted by yours truly so that it will neither collapse, nor will it put any strain on you. You may thank me later.”
And as you gave the handle a small tug, she proved her worth as the wheels rolled into motion, requiring almost no effort on your end.
“Now, I've never done this before so I don't know precisely how long this spell will uphold, but you should be fine for the entirety of your trip.”
“Should be?”
“Do have a little trust in my abilities, would you?” she asked, batting her eyes.
“Not like I'm swimming in options here, am I?”
“Now that's the spirit! Off you go, tata~” At that, the fashionista trotted back inside, leaving you standing there with the little red cart.
Shaking your head, you heaved a sigh. “At least the coat is warm.”
~ ~ ~
Logbook — day nineteen.
It was a mistake. All of it, just a mistake. I could've been helping AJ on her farm, eating warm pies and strudel at noon. But I had to take the easy way out. Had to become Rarity's assistant. ʻIt's easy money,ʼ I'd told myself.
I think I get it now, why Applejack is that adamant about honest, hard work. You don't see Applejack get robbed by Diamond Dogs. You don't see Applejack beaten to an inch of her life, left for dead on a mountainside. You don't see Applejack waking up God knows where, wandering for her way back home. You don't, because she didn't take the easy way out.
Beyond the mountains lied a desert. As far as the eyes could see, there was sand and only sand. I could have turned back, back towards the mountains. Back towards them. I honestly don't think it'd have mattered much. I'm going to die. Either I could've gone back and made it a painful one, or I try to cross the desert and die a slow death. I took the easy way out again.
I could still see the mountains the first couple of days. They stood there in the distance, trying to lure me in with false promises of returning home. I kept walking. Now, there's only sand anymore. Sometimes, I come across plants, too. I don't try to eat them anymore.
I just want it to be over already. Sustenance would drag it out even longer, keep me alive. This dessert can't be crossed.
I shouldn't have taken the easy way out.
~ ~ ~
“OH FUCKING HELL! COME ON!” You heard it, just a tad bit late. The splash. Now the bottom half of your pants are covered in mud. Jumping on one leg, you tried to kick most of the dirt away, thinking back about your kick-ass narration.
“That'd be an awesome story to tell.”
With your pants as clean as you can get them in current conditions, you made good use of the moment to rest for a little while. Ponyville was only a tiny glimmer on the horizon anymore. You'd made some good progress in four hours. Looking at the map told you that you still had a good ways to go, however. You'd have to find shelter for the night, sooner rather than later, if the dying daylight was any frame of judgement.
“. . . but why would he keep a logbook if he knew no one was going to find him?”
With that conundrum in mind, you set out towards the mountains in the distance, only about a good hour away anymore.
As the underground began to shift from the brown of fields made of mud and dirt, towards a greyer and much harder version of stone, a drop of rain fell on your nose. Around these parts, the pegasi didn't bother controlling the weather anymore. The Dogs live undergrounds anyways, so why should they?
“Come on, just a couple more minutes,” you muttered to the skies, picking up the pace into a slight jog. For a moment, you thought you were being listened to. And only for a moment.
There was a bright flash of light as you began to make your way up the mountain path with your trusty wagon and a fraction of a second later, the deafening roar of thunder threatened to crush your eardrums. Before you could even put on your hood, buckets of water were being poured over your head. “Oh, come on . . .” you lamented. Donning your hood, you resumed your walk, the mountainside growing slippier and slippier with each passing moment. Muttering and cursing underneath your breath, you followed the twists and turns of the path that'd been carved here. Under other circumstances you'd have wondered why there was some sort of road here.
Now, however, you just wanted shelter from this storm, a place to stay the night. It was too dark to tell for sure, but in the flashes of lightning you could swear you saw an opening in the mountainside, as if a shallow cave was there. All that you needed to do was cross a narrowing in the path, tilted to the right by a good twenty degrees. Now that wasn't cause of much worry to you.
The clough it ran into, on the other hand, didn't sit too well with you; predominantly the fact that, in the current dark, you had no way of telling how deep it was. “Shit.” You couldn't afford to stand here for much longer, the winds picking up had already tried (and been fairly successful) to throw you off your footing and into the hard, slippery underground a number of times.
“It's not that far,” you told yourself. “Just one step at a time, Anon. You'll be fine.”
And you were right, the first step went great. And the second one wasn't too shabby, either. If you could just keep this up, nice and slow, you might just make it. You took another step and as you heard the little splash that came with your foot touching the wettened ground again, you felt it. Something pulling you towards the clough. Your head snapped down, to see both of your feet standing there steadily. Uncertainly, you took another step. And then you heard it. Like the flash of lightning that lighted the skies above, the idea hit your mind.
“NO.” You snapped your head to the right direction this time, right behind you. “Fuck! No, no, no!”
You ran. You hauled the cart as fast as you could, uncaring for the ongoing storm. There it was again, the sound of rubber sliding away and you felt yourself slowing down. The cart grew heavier with each passing second and it was almost impossible to get the thing to move at all anymore.
“No, come on! Come on, please! Just move!” It began sliding down the slope. “NO! THE OTHER SIDE! MOVE TO THE OTHER SIDE!”
You dragged and you pulled at the cart as hard as you could, but even as it knocked you down to the ground, your body being used as an anchor, you couldn't hold the thing from sliding towards the ravine, agonizingly slow. The back wheels were already hanging over the edge and the upper two chests were well on their way of sliding towards an uncertain death. You strained, gritting your teeth, and used every iota of strength you possessed to pull the cart back up. Adrenaline rushed through your veins and you could hear the beating of your heart in your ears. For a moment, you could've sworn you were actually managing to pull the thing up again.
Then something knocked the wind out of your lungs and you let go. You flew through the air like you were made out of paper, though the crash landing against jagged, spiky rocks quickly reminded you of the fact that you weren't.
The warm stream running over your face told you plenty and the failed attempts at getting up only made the headache worse.
“Storms, little minotaur! Is dangerous ins the storms!”
You opened your eyes in the dark, blinking wearily. Above the storm, you still heard the crash and the tinkling of uncountable gemstones. Lightning burned the skies and you saw it standing over you. It seemed to be curious, if you were reading its face correctly.
And its fangs were utterly, terrifyingly, enormous.
“We musts go, little minotaur! Dangerous, dangerous in the storms!” Before you got the chance to respond, or do anything else for that matter, you felt it throw you on its shoulder. With a speed that nauseated you (or was it the bleeding?) it began running along the mountainside, not in the slightest perturbed by its current slippery state.
On its three legs, it still ran faster than you could ever manage, with or without cart. It weaved itself through twists and turns; in mere minutes, you were sure to have ascended to the midst of the mountain. It ran and jumped and ducked, howling as it did so.
You felt your stomach turn and your vision swim. Before either could give up, however, all motion ceased to be. And you noted you were dry, too.
“Dangerous outs in the storms, little minotaur. Stays in my cave now.”
In the dim lighting, courtesy of the bioluminescent moss atop the cave's roof, you could began to make out its features: its grey coat, green eyes and floppy ears. And the terrifyingly giant claws and fangs.
“I-I'm not a minotaur. I'm a human,” you offer. If it's going to eat you, it might at least know what you are. And when it gets addicted to your delicious meat, it'll learn that you were the only one of your kind and that it'll never taste something as delicious as you again, driving it into insanity.
Yeah, that's the kind of evil guy you'd be.
“Huuuuu-man,” it mimics with a howl. “Do not knows any human. Looks like littles minotaur to me.”
It strides closer to you with an awkward gait, rearing on its hind legs to take a closer look at your face. Mere inches from your face, it lifts its upper lip, showcasing a set of teeth that could bite your arm off if it felt like it. “You smells nice, huuman.” It holds out a paw to you. “I am Tila.”
And it's then that you hear it: the soft edge to her voice. And the smile on her lips.
She blinks a few times, looking at you through a pair of emerald eyes. Cue the most awkward moment of your life, so far. Hesitantly, you take her surprisingly soft paw in your hand and give it a shake. “My name's Anon.”
With a gruff snort, she falls back on all fours. “Anon. . . Four letters. Is a good names.” With a waggling tail, she walks deeper into her little, dim-lit cave. “Comes with me! Gets the blood cleaned up, Anon.”
You could run, there's nothing stopping you from it. Lightning cracks again and the sky roars in its all-devouring voice. You could run back outside into the storm. The storm that Tila, who manoeuvred the mountainside like it was a playground, had claimed dangerous.
“Hold up, I'm coming.”
~ ~ ~
“Do you likes the foods?”
You'd respond properly, if it weren't for the juicy, greasy and perfectly cooked meat inside your maw. “Yeawhhsgoo,” you manage to utter, “reewwgooo!”
Swallowing a mouthful of deliciousness, you grant her a smile of gratitude. “So, I guess the sayings were right about moving south.”
She furrows her brow. “We do not understands?”
“You used to live south of Ponyville, right? Underneath the rocky fields?”
Tila shakes her head, her ears comically flopping along. “I've always lived heres in the mountain. You knows the new Dogs?”
“Not really,” you answer, “but I live in those parts.”
She smiles, watching you hungrily eye the meat above the fire. Laughing , she tears a new chunk off whatever was suspended above the fire. “You should eats plenty, Anon. I cleans lots of your blood.”
Taking the piece she offers you, you mutter your gratitude. Though, you can't help but point out the obvious either. “Yeah, it probably would have helped had you not smacked me into those rocks.”
“I heards you scream and rans down. You would haves fallen in the pit if I hadn't gotten you loose.”
You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I was trying to make sure my wagon wouldn't fall in that pit.”
The Dog shakes her head, throwing away the bone she'd just cleared of all meat. “Too dangerous to be outs in the storms. When snow comes, the mountain gets mad. Very bad weathers,” she says, looking at the entrance in the distance, “Too many go outs and don't come back . . .”
“Yeah well, going back without that wagon isn't much of an option for me, either.”
“Little red wagon not importants. You ares safe here, that is important.”
And in hindsight, you had to agree with her. Rarity would be livid, to say the least, but it'd be better than not coming back at all.
A little.
“We cans go back for little wagon after storm. Pit is not too deep for climbings.”
You snap your head towards her. “Really? That's great!”
“After storm,” she says sternly, the look in her eyes shutting you up immediately.
Swallowing the last bite of your piece, you quietly nod. “Okay, sure. No rush.”
The Dog smiles at you, hopping up straight and walking towards you. “I saves you from falling in the pit. Gives you food, help you get little wagon back. . .”
It had to be too good to be true. Things just can't work out for you. There has to be some universal rule that prevents things from ever going your way.
“Now you musts do somethings for Tila,” she says, circling around you whilst dragging her tail around your midsection. Your swallow echoes deep into the network of tunnels. “I wants your coat.”
This is it. This is how you die: mangled and beaten. Every bone torn ou—
“My coat?” She nods. “B-but I'll be cold without it.”
Walking her way behind you, you feel her sniff your back. “Lots of fabric. Smells nice like you.” You feel her rub herself against your back. “Soft! So soft!” she barks. “I wants it, please.”
“If I give you my coat,”—Her tail began wagging already—“will you help me get my wagon back home?”
With the magic spell broken, you couldn't move that thing an inch, even if she got it out of the ravine. But the way she'd climbed this mountain with only three legs and you on her back, made you think it ought to be doable for her.
“Then I gets to keep the coat for always?” she asks.
“Yeah, sure. It's the least I can do for you.”
She begins hopping around the fire, letting out adorable little yips. “You makes me happy, Anon. Makes me very happy!”
“What makes my coat so special?” She stopped skipping around as you posed your question, her ears perking up straight. Then she ran off into the distance, even deeper into the tunnels. Even further into the dark.
“Come!” she barked. “I shall shows you.”
You think about dousing the fire, though given the fact that everything is made out of stone here, you decide to leave things as they are.
A little further along the cave, a second, much smaller cave had been dug into the wall, given the illusion of it being a tiny room of sorts. Above it, crude scratch marks of her name had been made. You had to crouch down to enter it and with both her and you in it, it had pretty much reached its full capacity. But what you noted mostly was how soft the floor was here, in stark contrast to the rest of the stoney cave.
“The mountains is cold, hard floors to sleep on,” you heard her voice as your eyes were adjusting to a new level of darkness. “I have lots of blankets, rags, soft fabrics for sleepings. Have fought a lot for them. No one steals from my fabrics.”
“Oh. . .” is all you managed to mutter. Gemstones, gold and silver as far as the eyes could see. Instead, rags are the valuable thing down here. Somehow, the irony is lost on you.
“Can I haves your coat now?” she asked. “Nice and warm and soft~” she sang as if it's the best thing she's ever come across. “I am very happy I saved you, Anon.”
It just might be.
“Yeah, of course. I'm glad you saved me too, by the way.” With your eyes well-adjusted to the darkness now, you take it off. As soon as you laid it on the pile of others, you felt the wind creep in between the other layers you shrouded yourself in. Hopefully, she'd be happy with just the coat alone. If you had to pick between going home to Rarity nude, or staying here instead, you might be stuck thinking here for a while.
“Where is your hairs, Anon?” she asked, watching you shivering in her little, non-lit room.
“We don't have a lot, that's why we wear all these.”
Her tail makes muffled thuds as she lies herself down on her new, even softer bed. “Comes lie with me. We'll be warm togethers. And tomorrows, we go gets little wagon from pit!”
Cue the most awkward moment of your life, so far — take two. As you lie yourself down, a respectable distance away from her, you immediately feel her paw falling over your chest, dragging you into her soft and amazingly warm belly.
“Comfortables, Anon?”
This was, hands-down, without a doubt, the single most weird situation you have ever been in. You don't think anything, at all, whatsoever, could top this experience.
But honesty compelled you to admit, “Yeah, this is pretty nice.” You wriggle around a bit, sinking into both her fabrics, as well as her coat, and you let out a content sigh.
Things could've turned out worse, you like to think.
“Good night, Anon,” she whispers, “Sleeps well.”
Holding her paw against your chest, you already feel the darkness claim its ways over your mind again. “Sleep tight, Tila.”
~ ~ ~
Sleep is an amazing thing. It's wonderful in all its aspects; even when it's bad, it's still sort of good. To wake you from a sleep as wonderful as this one is a dangerous thing and you fear for whomever dared to do so.
But the soft whining, filling the darkened room, seemed like a pretty good reason.
Your eyes need to readjust themselves again, but after what feels like hours, you can note that instead of holding you close, Tila sat in the far-off corner of her room, back leaned against the wall and her tail pressed against her legs. Under other circumstances you'd have wondered what to be the cause of this, but now that you were awake, you could hear the storm rampaging outside, tenfold of its earlier display of prowess. It's a wonder you managed to sleep through this as long as you did.
“Shoulds have gone deeper in the mountains,” she softly whined. You couldn't tell whether she was aware if you'd woken up or not. Lightning illuminated the entire tunnel and the deafening roar that came after shook the mountain to its core. You feared the tunnels would collapse but luckily the Dogs seemed to be, just as Rarity had said, excellent diggers.
All you could do was wait out the worst and comfort her in the mean time.
You crawled your way over to her, taking your coat with you. As she saw you come closer, she shifted a bit, making room next to her for you to sit. You drape your coat over the both of you and let her lean against you. “It'll pass,” you mutter as you stroke down her back. “It'll go away soon, don't worry.”
Softly, she shook her head and whined. “Thens it comes back. Always comes back.”
You could blame the sleepdrunk state of mind you were in, or you could blame your own stupidity for the amount of time it took you to register that. In this particular occasion, you choose the former.
“This isn't a normal storm, is it?”
Lightning struck again, illuminating all in a sickeningly grey color. She trembled as she tried to hide herself underneath you coat. “Snows is coming. Always makes the mountain mad! We shoulds have gone deeper in the tunnels. Shoulds have gone deeper. . .”
You kept stroking her. It's all you could do, for now. “Listen, I've got a friend. She can make the weather go away.”
Her soft whining grew even softer, fading away in the dark. “I don't think they know this is going on here. I'll tell her about the storms, she'll come and push them away, beyond the mountains.”
“Y-You woulds do that for me?” she asked, still hiding underneath you coat.
“Of course! You should've come to us. Ponyville has a weather team, they can take care of this.”
At first, you thought the rain had somehow made its way inside as you felt the wetness on your face. Then you saw the giant tongue and felt just how warm this particular liquid felt. “You ares the best human I haves met, Anon!”
Your hand finds its way behind her ears and out of instinct, you give her light scratches, which she seems to enjoy a great deal. “Yeah, I'm pretty awesome.”
The both of you lie against each other in the dark, listening to the rain dying down. By the time it seems to have gone back into a regular rain shower, Tila has slid into your lap, snoozing contently.
You have absolutely no idea what time of night it is, but given the fact that it's still dark as all hell in the largest tunnel, you'd be willing to bet you could still sneak in a few hours of sleep.
Softly, you nudge Tila. “Hey, wake up.” Her eyes flutter open slowly as she nuzzles herself into your lap. A soft smile is sent your way as she comes to.
“You stayed,” she says, “You waited for the storms to go away for me.”
You can't help but smile back at her, gently running your fingers down her coat. “Hey, I could think of worse ways to spend my time.” Though it's hard to make out in the dark, you could swear she was blushing.
It became a lot easier to find out that she was, in fact, blushing as she perked up and sat up straight in your lap, her forelegs resting on top of your shoulders. Somehow, the atmosphere in the room had grown tenser — much, much tenser — as her face was right in front of yours, her warm breath brushing past your skin. Then she nipped at your collar bone.
“I likes you, Anon. So nice to me.” You should at least try to make an effort to stop her. “Do you likes me too?”
Her playful teasing stopped as she brought her snout up against your nose. Her emerald eyes stared into yours, so eager to please. You felt her tail brush back and forth, not without response.
“Ooooh~” she coed. “You dooo~”
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel as if you should go through an internal struggle, have some sort of mental debate with yourself. Way, way in the back of your mind though. See, there's that list of things you want to do. And throughout time, that list has changed a lot. But ever since you've made it, the same two things have always ranked on top, unyielding to your whims and frenzies.
The first being the motto that had landed you here in the first place: ʻget moneyʼ. The second, well, . . .
It'd be impolite to stare, but during your stay you'd noticed her slightly-more-than curvaceous figure. Her smile grew larger as your hands stroked her coat, downwards, all the way to her plump derriere. Her paws traveled over your chest, trying to get the remainder of your clothes off you. It was awkward, it was clumsy and you loved every moment of it.
“You have very little hairs, Anon,” she whispered as your shirt slipped down to the ground. She brought her snout close to your chest, her breathing tickling your bare skin. Then you felt her teeth press into your skin.
This is it. This is how you die: mangled and beaten. Every bone torn ou—
And her tongue traveling over your skin as she nipped at you. “Don't worries. I will be gentle.” Maybe it was the potential rush of endorphins coursing through your blood from the relief, but whatever the cause, you had to admit that this actually felt sort of enjoyable once you weren't fearing for your life. First, there was the flare of pain for just a second as her teeth edged on breaking your skin; then, the numb bliss that came after, the pressure fading, instead replaced with a sensation of delicate sensitivity; lastly, her delightfully coarse tongue pushing down on that injured spot, the pressure and warmth sending shivers down your spine.
“So smooth skin,” she said, nuzzling herself against you, “Smells so nice too.”
Rather than voicing your own compliments, you showed them; your hands running along her spine, tracing the little dip right above her tail and kneading the soft, pliant skin underneath. Your hands roamed wild and free, never having to break contact with the femme's seemingly endless rear. She groaned softly as you dragged your hands up, brushing against the direction of her coat. Putting her paws against your chest, she arched her back so she could travel further down your chest with little licks, placing her wonderfully full behind just outside of your reach.
So, to cope with your losses, you let your hands travel around her body, choosing her plump belly as your current object of desire. You'd thought of it, right before sleep had claimed itself master over you, but now you were certain you'd felt them as she'd pressed you against her earlier. The coat on her belly is thinner and softer, and every now and then, interrupted by a little island of soft, pink flesh. She hisses as you let your fingers travel over the sensitive little mounds, six of them in total.
Your fingers enclose two, opposite of each other, and squeeze them gently. With a low growl, she presses herself harder into your touch, writhing in your lap.
“You like it when I do . . . that?” You finish by twisting the supple skin in your grasp. Her breath hitches in her throat and she draws in a slow breath, baring her fangs. In response, she begins to rub herself against your crotch, increasingly harder.
“Yessss,” she growls.
And who are you to deny her more? Spreading your fingers further apart, you double the amount of little breasts in your holding. Gently rolling the skin back and forth in your grasp causes her tail to wag back and forth with vigor, her head thrown back and her mouth hanging open in delight. Just as you're getting into it however, she throws herself on you again, biting down on your collarbone much harder than before.
Jumping off you, she turns around, lifts her tail and lets her forelegs slide out from underneath her. “N-no more,” she begs. She arches her back, raising her hind even higher. “Please, Anon, . . . ”
Maybe they weren't used to having some fun beforehand. But there's no reason not to make any changes to that, even if the throbbing against the fabric of your pants was growing to be a nuisance.
You lean in forwards and before she could even ask what you were doing and why you still had your pants on, she gasped, your skillful tongue running over her puffy lips. “We don't have to rush,” you quietly said, both your hands now happily reunited with her divine bottom.
It's unlikely she'd ever find an experience to match this one: your tongue slowly caressing her sex, one hand kneading her smooth, velvety cheek while the other tugged on her little buds again. She moaned, almost sounding like a long-drawn out whine, as she felt herself being expertly taking care of. In this moment, there was only one thing she could think of.
“P-pulls my tail, please,” she asked. You complied soundlessly, the edge of your tongue sunken into her luscious warm innards, and gave a firm tug on her tush. Immediately, you felt her spasm, her insides squeezing against your tongue as she voiced her pleasure. With a wide smile on your face, you heard her beg, “Agains, please. H-harder.”
You janked her tail again, the femme falling flat on her belly as her legs gave out from underneath her. She moaned aloud and you felt her grow wetter on your tongue as your hand let go off her. Panting and moaning, she lied there on the floor, even as you only teased her little mounds anymore. She wasn't too far away from her peak anymore and you knew just how to get her, and you, there.
“See? It's better if you take your time, right?” You unbutton your pants, letting them fall on the floor. She scrambles up right again and turns around, pressing her snout against your rigid length.
“I cans try that too,” she said. Her tongue rolled out of her mouth and the contrast from what you're used to bordered on being hilarious. As she dragged it over your shaft, however, it became less funny and far, far more pleasing than you'd have given it credit for otherwise.
The sight of her giant fangs, less than an inch away from your most prized possession made your heart beat like mad, only making you grow harder as she slobbered her saliva all over your crotch. And inexperienced as she was, you had to admit that she would make you pop far sooner than you'd want to, if she kept swirling and lapping like this. In a single stroke, she'd coat everything from your sack to your tip in a glistening sheen of tepid moistness, making sure not to miss a single spot. And eager as she was to please, a single lick didn't quite cut it, either.
You withheld a moan as you laid a hand on her cheek, guiding her away from you. She looked heartbroken, her eyes full of hurt and her ears pressed flat against her head as she looked at you. “N-no goods?”
Shivers ran along your back as you reassured her, “No! That was better than good. A lot better.” You watched her ears perk up again, her eyes dropping back to their previous half-lidded state.
The tip of her tongue already hung out of her mouth as she spoke, “Do you wants more?”
You had to force down a hard swallow. Just imagining the sight of her taking care of you and you coating her entire snout a pearly white were enough to almost make it happen, right then and there. And she was so eager to please, she wouldn't even mind. But it wouldn't be fair to her.
And what you had in mind certainly wasn't worse.
“Don't you want to feel good, too?” She nodded enthusiastically, her tail already wagging to and fro wildly. You nodded your head towards the middle of the 'bed'. Quick to pick up, she presented herself again like she'd done before, the coat on the inside of her thighs notably stained a much darker color.
With one hand, you guide your tip against her slit; the other softly kneading her rear. Slowly, you push forwards, silently groaning at how tight she was. At first, it was a little painful even, though she didn't complain once, only rushing through shallow breaths. And despite her tightness, you soon felt her velvety coat touch your lower abdomen, her soft flesh pressing into yours. Entirely bottomed out into her, you held that position, your hands cupping her cheeks. Unable to withhold your groan, you began to pull back, her insides almost refusing to let you slide out of her. You had to take it slow, every sudden movement you made only made her contract around you, making it both impossible and painful for you to move.
As only your head remained inside her, you leaned over her, gripping her tiny breasts in your fingertips again. She moaned quietly as you fondled them and just short while after, you felt yourself sliding deeper into her again, effortlessly and painlessly.
Soon, you found an enjoyable rhythm of thrusting for the both of you. Every once in a while, you'd stop playing with her mounds, letting her grow tighter around you again. With her aided arousal and the ample lubrication that came with it, you could instead focus on her beautifully curved rear and the way it rippled as you slammed yourself into her, hilting with a groan.
You could only hang your head back in utter bliss, your breathing becoming labored and rushed as her insides massaged every ridge of your length. The way she squirmed around, her movements erratic and uncontrolled, you knew that she too was only seconds away from ecstasy.
Pulling on her tail one last time, you felt her constrict around you, just as you bottomed out. Her shapely rear quivered as you did your very best to fill her up. Pressing yourself flat against her back, you drew back and slammed down again, sending another fill of your warm seed down her insides. You felt her walls dance around your length and Tila cried out, a low howl through the night, as she joined you in your high.
A third time, you thrusted into her before you fell slack atop of her, riding out the waves of bliss you both surfed.
You hadn't even noticed she'd fallen sideways as your mind cleared to its usual condition, your length still firmly lodged in her tight, constructing slit. You shifted into the various fabrics, more than willing to let sleep claim you again for the night. This time, you got to be big spoon.
“Makes me feel so good, Anon.” You let your hands run down her sides, her soft coat now slightly sweaty. She nuzzled herself into you, letting out a content sigh. “Ssssoo good.”
As the waves of her pleasure died down, you could tell she'd be fast asleep in just moments as well.
“Hey Tila?”
She nodded her head, nuzzling herself underneath your chin. “Hmmm?”
“That little red wagon of mine . . . ”
“Hmmm?”
“It's got five chests full of gems on it. Think I could trade that for some gold and silver?”
She let out a tired yawn. “We wills go to the mines withs you tomorrow.”
You placed a kiss atop her head and listened to her fade away into a peaceful sleep.
“Sounds good, bitch.”
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	“No.  No.  No.  No.  No, no, no!”  She circled it like a predator; every angle, every stroke of light, every possible way to look at it warranting a potential new judgement.

“It's really not that—”

	“No,” she repeated.  “Don't lie to me!  Do you honestly think I can't see it for myself?!”

“I think you might be overreacting.”

	“No, I am not!”  Exaggeratedly, she pointed at it.  “Look at it and tell me what you think!”

“Look, I told you—”

	“No.  Tell me what you think, honestly,” she asked, far more softly.  “I need to know, Anon.  My life depends on this.”

	You mimicked her motions, slowly circling around the center of the room.  Every time you paused to halt at a detail, you saw her bite her lip a little harder.  By the time you'd made your tour, it was a wonder she hadn't drawn blood yet.

	“It's . . .”

Her eyes widened in response and she leaned forward a little.  “Yes?”

	You tried to find a way to be nice about it, you really did.  It wasn't for a lack of trying, but she asked for your honest opinion here.  “It's . . .”

“Yes?”

	“I'm so sorry, Rarity, but it's just really, really ugly.”

Out of nowhere, a chaise longue flew into the room and with a small bounce, the fashionista perked herself atop of it.  “Oh, I know, dear!  I know!”

	“It's atrocious to look at.”

“Yes, it is!  It truly is horrid!”

	“It's hideous.”

“So hideous!”

	Shaking your head, you sat yourself down besides her.  “I feel uncomfortable just standing near it.  I can't believe you made this.”

An exasperated sigh brushed past her alabaster lips.  “Neither can I.”

	“I'm sorry, but that's just really—”

Waving her hoof, she shushed you.  “Oh, no no no, dear.  I asked you for your views on the matter and I am ever so grateful you didn't withhold.”  For just a moment she glanced back towards the marequin in the middle of the room and the abomination resting atop of it.  “I knew this would turn out to be horrendous when I first started it.”

	“Then why did you make it?”

She closed her eyes and seemed to sink away into her thoughts for a while.  

	“I don't rightfully know, I'm afraid.  I thought that, perhaps, I could spruce things up, so to speak.  A little lace here;”—She sighed again, letting her head fall back over the chair's edge—“some ribbons there; a diamond, two mayhap?”

	More like two dozen.

	With her eyes still closed, she pointed at the marequin, shuddering as she did so.  

“I knew it to be a lost cause, but yet I tried.  And now, I must admit that I failed.  My once brilliant visions for fashion, now . . .”  She opened her eyes.

	You placed a hand down her back, stroking in reassurance.  “You had a good run, don't you think?  It's not the end of the world, you know?  There's plenty of others things you could do with your talents.”

	At that, she jumped up straight again and just as soon as it had come, the chaise longue disappeared into thin air again, unceremoniously dropping you on the ground.  Where just a second ago she'd seem on the edge of depression, exuberance shone in her sapphire eyes as she took a daring stance.

	“Oh, no, no, no, darling!  This is not the end!  This is a revolution!”

Oh God.  You've seen her like this before.  It never ends well.  

	Never.

“There used to be a time,” she exclaimed, her horn shimmering a royal blue as the lights in the room began to die down.  A beam struck forth, hitting the wall where it began projecting images of stallions and mares walking down cobbled streets.  
	“Not another slideshow.”

	She glared, less than a fraction of a second, and yet you knew to not try to disrupt her a second time.

“A time where stallions and mares would portray their riches!  A time of splendor and grace.”  Accompanied by a click, the image shifted.  “They wore robes of the finest silks, lined with the gems that shone as brightly as they did!  Truly, it was the pinnacle of the boerjoisee!”

	Rarity's French  — or Prench, whatever —  had always spurred you on to commit suicide.  “Bourgeoisie,” you corrected.

	She glared again.  “Oh, shush now.  I'm trying to teach you something here.”  She turned back towards her projection.  “But lately, things have changed, Anon.”  Stallions wearing only hats showed on the wall.  “Times have grown different.”  A mare wearing nothing at all appeared on the wall and for a moment you wondered whether this counted as sexually inappropriate behavior at work.  Or should you show Rarity some pictures of nude humans in return?  
	A question for another time.

“Only the richest of the rich dress themselves in fine garments anymore. And even they!”  She paused.

	“. . . if you're trying to build up tension, don't bother, alright?”

Her face fell into a firm frown and with a snap of her head, she shifted the image yet once again.  “Even they don't bother wearing refined clothing anymore!”  The way she proclaimed it made it sound worse than murder.  “I tried to resist, Anon.  But it seems now we were wrong.”

	“We?”

“The time has come, where displaying one's riches, has turned into a show of garishness.  Ponies have turned more humble, and so their clothing has too.”

	In the far-off corner of the room, you saw the clock nearly strike five.  Work was almost over for today, thank the heavens.

	“Okay, that's great and fine and dandy and all, but what I'm going to take away from that little 'show' of yours is that you're still going to make clothes, right?”

	Her horn shone its radiant blue aura and the images cascaded, the room filling itself with light again. “No!” she asserted, her chest sticking forward in pride.  “I will make art from now on!”

	“So, I just have to come back tomorrow at the normal hour?”

“And art does not come without sacrifice and suffering!” she rambled on.  “My visions, my dream of a Utopia where one and all would carry themselves in the shimmering excellence they deserve, must make place!”  She looked up at you, her eyes pleading.

	Heaving a sigh, you shrugged.  She wouldn't let you out of here if you didn't, you were sure of it.  “Room for what, Rarity?” you asked.

With a bounce in her step, she strode towards the dreaded marequin.  “Why, room for renewal, Anon!  Room for a new Rarity, with new designs!”

	“Perhaps a new paycheck for the assistant?”

She tilted her head towards you and smiled a devious little grin.  “Perhaps.  I can not do this without you, Anon.”

	“Really?”  You've been working here for some time, sure, and you know a lot more about fashion and garment construction than you did when you started here.  But to know that you were this important to her was something you didn't really expect.

She nodded enthusiastically, her luscious lavender locks bobbing along with the motion.  “Oh yes, my dear.”  Her horn shimmered and she levitated the dress of its holding.  “The time of gems and ribbons and laces and frilly-frallies has gone!”  

	The fabric ripped as she tore the gems off.  “Instead, my art will be refined as is desired by my cliejontel.” 
	“Clientèle,” you added.  “Why would you even say that in French? It's a perfectly fine word i—”

“Oh shush, you.”  First, the diamonds, coated in her blue aura.  She trotted towards the backroom, the dress and gems floating in her wake.  “They do not want silks, the purest of whites.”  

	You'd never set foot in Rarity's backroom; she'd always claimed it off-limits for you.  “So I will give them cottons, impurely woven.”  She tossed them into an enormous chest.

	“They want their materials to be raw and unrefined,” she said, tossing the rubies back in the chest as well.  “So I will give them buttons of tarnished silver.”  With a final rip, she tossed the myriad emeralds, sapphires, topaz and amethysts back in the chest. 

	“And you will help me do so, dear.”

There isn't a clock in here.  And Rarity doesn't pay overtime.  “And how do you see that playing out?”

	“It is quite simple, Anon.”  Swinging her neck in a gracious arc, the chest fell close.  “Gems and the likes are only humdrum these days, you see.  I managed to work with them so well because well, hah  —  c'est moi, of course.”

	Her lips pressed into a thin smile and already did you feel shivers of fright travel up and down your spine.

	“Anon, dear, darling, sweetness—”

“Okay, that's three surnoms.  Whatever it is that you're about to ask, I already don't like it.”

	With an idle wave of her hoof, she turned her back on the chest.  “These are worthless now.  I need you to get rid of them for me and find me some genuine valuable materials instead.”

	“Meaning what precisely?” you pushed.

“See, there's these creatures called Diamond Dogs—”

	“Those things that kidnapped you?”

She nodded, her smile unfaltering.  “Yes, those!  Oh, I'm so glad to see you do pay attention every once in a while!  Anyway, they are excellent diggers and I'm certain they have some gold or silver I could use to—”

	“You want me to go trade your gems for gold and silver?”

“Precisely!”

	“Are you insane?!”

She tittered a careless laugh, trotting back towards the display hall.  “Oh, don't worry now, dear.  I'm not asking you to do this today.”

	You swear, these ponies have the oddest sense of humor sometimes.

“You can do it tomorrow.  I know how cold it is for you, with winter only a few days away.”  She turned towards you with a grand smile.  “Don't you worry about a thing; I'll make you a nice, warm coat.”

	“Oh, thank you, Rarity.  At least I won't be cold when I got mauled by a group of vicious beasts.  How considerate of you.”

	Tutting, she stopped in the Carousel's entrance hall.  “Oh, now who is the exaggerating one here?”

“They kidnapped you!”

	“Well yes, but—”

“They gagged you!”

	“Oh, I'm sure you'll be fine.”

“They bound you!”

	“I never complained about that.”

“They used you as a mule!  I don't want to be a mule, Rarity!  I have this list of things that I want to do and being treated like a mule is nowhere on that list!”

	“You will be rewarded handsomely.”

“I don—”  . . .  “Now, when you say ʻhandsomelyʼ?”

	“Twice the usual,” she replied offhandedly. 

“Twice?!  I could die out there, I think that's worth a bit more than just double.”

	“Between the both of us, Anon,” she began, “I am the one with the most experience in being kidnapped by Diamond Dogs.  As such, with my expertise in this particular field of work, I deem the risk to be only so high that I'll pay you double.”

	“I should've just said ʻyesʼ when Applejack asked me if I wanted to work for her.”

Rarity's muzzle scrunched up in disgust.  “But then you'd be all sweaty and, ugh, dirty . . .”

	“And now, death potentially awaits me.  Seems pretty fifty-fifty to me.”

The alabaster unicorn sighed, glancing at the clock.  “Let me make you an offer.  I'll pay thrice the usual and I'll give you the remaining pictures of that mare I showed you earlier.”  You tried to retort, but she silenced you aptly, raising her brow.  “Oh, don't think I didn't see you stare.”

	Tense moments followed in which you debate—

Oh, you didn't debate jack.  That was one fine looking pony and you know it.

	“So . . .  Normal hour then?”

Rarity's laughter rang through the air as she walked back towards the private part of the Carousel.  “See you in the morning, darling.”



						~	~	~



	“I did a little hearing here and there,” she said, levitating the coat on your frame.  You can say what you want about this penurious pony, but she knows how to make a warm garment.

“What else is new?”

	She poked you in the ribs, hard.  “You should be glad I did some research or this entire ordeal would have amounted to nothing!”

	Rubbing the sore spot, you looked down on her to find her shooting a nasty glare up at you.  “Alright, alright.  I'm sorry, jeez.”

	She snorted undignified, white vapor trailing skywards as effect.  “Apparently, from what I've been told, the Dogs left the fields southern of Sweet Apple Acres.  Supposedly, they've emptied the grounds there entirely.”

	The unicorn's magic came to life and from the inner pocket of your coat floated a map.  “Now, luckily for you,” she began, “Twilight told me that they most likely went further south, towards the mountains.”  She marked a small area on the map with her horn.  “There.”

	You took the map out of Rarity's glow, examining it for yourself.  Studying the area Rarity had marked, you found your brow to be dropping quickly.  “Now, I know I'm not from around these parts, Rarity.”  The fashionista looked up at you and you crouched down so she could see the map for herself.  “But Ponyville is on the other side of the map.”

	Her eyes widened for a second before she snatched it out of your hands with her telekinesis.  She nervously giggled before quickly removing the mark.  “I must have held it upside down. Haha, silly me!”  Flipping the map around, she made a new mark.  “There!”

	“That's Applewood.”

She turned it another ninety degrees, looking up at you with doubt in her eyes.  “H-Here?”

	“Manehattan.”

“Well then!”  She shoved the map back in your arms.  “I got you a map!  I'm sure you'll be able to find your way.”

	Pocketing the map into your very warm coat, you shrugged.  “Sure, I'll manage.  So, gems?”

“Follow me,” she ordered, trotting around the Boutique.  Out back stood a little red wagon with atop of it, Rarity's chests of gems.  “I expect at least half this amount in golds and silvers back.”

	“There's no way a stupid little cart can hold two and a half chests full of gold and silver.”

“This stupid little cart”—She harshly flicked your leg with her tail—“is magically enchanted by yours truly so that it will neither collapse, nor will it put any strain on you.  You may thank me later.”

	And as you gave the handle a small tug, she proved her worth as the wheels rolled into motion, requiring almost no effort on your end.

“Now, I've never done this before so I don't know precisely how long this spell will uphold, but you should be fine for the entirety of your trip.”

	“Should be?”

“Do have a little trust in my abilities, would you?” she asked, batting her eyes.

	“Not like I'm swimming in options here, am I?”

“Now that's the spirit! Off you go, tata~”  At that, the fashionista trotted back inside, leaving you standing there with the little red cart.


	Shaking your head, you heaved a sigh.  “At least the coat is warm.”



						~	~	~



	Logbook  —  day nineteen.

	It was a mistake.  All of it, just a mistake.  I could've been helping AJ on her farm, eating warm pies and strudel at noon.  But I had to take the easy way out.  Had to become Rarity's assistant.  ʻIt's easy money,ʼ  I'd told myself.

	I think I get it now, why Applejack is that adamant about honest, hard work.  You don't see Applejack get robbed by Diamond Dogs.  You don't see Applejack beaten to an inch of her life, left for dead on a mountainside.  You don't see Applejack waking up God knows where, wandering for her way back home.  You don't, because she didn't take the easy way out.

	Beyond the mountains lied a desert.  As far as the eyes could see, there was sand and only sand.  I could have turned back, back towards the mountains.  Back towards them.  I honestly don't think it'd have mattered much.  I'm going to die.  Either I could've gone back and made it a painful one, or I try to cross the desert and die a slow death.  I took the easy way out again.

	I could still see the mountains the first couple of days.  They stood there in the distance, trying to lure me in with false promises of returning home.  I kept walking.  Now, there's only sand anymore.  Sometimes, I come across plants, too.  I don't try to eat them anymore.

	I just want it to be over already.  Sustenance would drag it out even longer, keep me alive.  This dessert can't be crossed.  

	I shouldn't have taken the easy way out.



						~	~	~



	“OH FUCKING HELL! COME ON!”  You heard it, just a tad bit late.  The splash.  Now the bottom half of your pants are covered in mud.  Jumping on one leg, you tried to kick most of the dirt away, thinking back about your kick-ass narration.

	“That'd be an awesome story to tell.”	

	With your pants as clean as you can get them in current conditions, you made good use of the moment to rest for a little while.  Ponyville was only a tiny glimmer on the horizon anymore.  You'd made some good progress in four hours.  Looking at the map told you that you still had a good ways to go, however.  You'd have to find shelter for the night, sooner rather than later, if the dying daylight was any frame of judgement.

	“. . . but why would he keep a logbook if he knew no one was going to find him?”

	With that conundrum in mind, you set out towards the mountains in the distance, only about a good hour away anymore.  


	As the underground began to shift from the brown of fields made of mud and dirt, towards a greyer and much harder version of stone, a drop of rain fell on your nose.  Around these parts, the pegasi didn't bother controlling the weather anymore.  The Dogs live undergrounds anyways, so why should they?

	“Come on, just a couple more minutes,” you muttered to the skies, picking up the pace into a slight jog.  For a moment, you thought you were being listened to.  And only for a moment.

	There was a bright flash of light as you began to make your way up the mountain path with your trusty wagon and a fraction of a second later, the deafening roar of thunder threatened to crush your eardrums.  Before you could even put on your hood, buckets of water were being poured over your head.  “Oh, come on . . .” you lamented.  Donning your hood, you resumed your walk, the mountainside growing slippier and slippier with each passing moment.  Muttering and cursing underneath your breath, you followed the twists and turns of the path that'd been carved here.  Under other circumstances you'd have wondered why there was some sort of road here.  

	Now, however, you just wanted shelter from this storm, a place to stay the night.  It was too dark to tell for sure, but in the flashes of lightning you could swear you saw an opening in the mountainside, as if a shallow cave was there.  All that you needed to do was cross a narrowing in the path, tilted to the right by a good twenty degrees.  Now that wasn't cause of much worry to you.

	The clough it ran into, on the other hand, didn't sit too well with you; predominantly the fact that, in the current dark, you had no way of telling how deep it was.  “Shit.”  You couldn't afford to stand here for much longer, the winds picking up had already tried (and been fairly successful) to throw you off your footing and into the hard, slippery underground a number of times.

	“It's not that far,” you told yourself.  “Just one step at a time, Anon.  You'll be fine.”

	And you were right, the first step went great.  And the second one wasn't too shabby, either.  If you could just keep this up, nice and slow, you might just make it.  You took another step and as you heard the little splash that came with your foot touching the wettened ground again, you felt it.  Something pulling you towards the clough.  Your head snapped down, to see both of your feet standing there steadily.  Uncertainly, you took another step.  And then you heard it.  Like the flash of lightning that lighted the skies above, the idea hit your mind.

	“NO.”  You snapped your head to the right direction this time, right behind you.  “Fuck! No, no, no!”

You ran.  You hauled the cart as fast as you could, uncaring for the ongoing storm.  There it was again, the sound of rubber sliding away and you felt yourself slowing down.  The cart grew heavier with each passing second and it was almost impossible to get the thing to move at all anymore.

	“No, come on!  Come on, please!  Just move!”  It began sliding down the slope.  “NO!  THE OTHER SIDE!  MOVE TO THE OTHER SIDE!”

	You dragged and you pulled at the cart as hard as you could, but even as it knocked you down to the ground, your body being used as an anchor, you couldn't hold the thing from sliding towards the ravine, agonizingly slow.  The back wheels were already hanging over the edge and the upper two chests were well on their way of sliding towards an uncertain death.  You strained, gritting your teeth, and used every iota of strength you possessed to pull the cart back up.  Adrenaline rushed through your veins and you could hear the beating of your heart in your ears.  For a moment, you could've sworn you were actually managing to pull the thing up again.

	Then something knocked the wind out of your lungs and you let go.  You flew through the air like you were made out of paper, though the crash landing against jagged, spiky rocks quickly reminded you of the fact that you weren't.

	The warm stream running over your face told you plenty and the failed attempts at getting up only made the headache worse.
	
	“Storms, little minotaur!  Is dangerous ins the storms!”

	You opened your eyes in the dark, blinking wearily.  Above the storm, you still heard the crash and the tinkling of uncountable gemstones.  Lightning burned the skies and you saw it standing over you.  It seemed to be curious, if you were reading its face correctly.  

	And its fangs were utterly, terrifyingly, enormous.

	“We musts go, little minotaur!  Dangerous, dangerous in the storms!”  Before you got the chance to respond, or do anything else for that matter, you felt it throw you on its shoulder.  With a speed that nauseated you (or was it the bleeding?) it began running along the mountainside, not in the slightest perturbed by its current slippery state.

	On its three legs, it still ran faster than you could ever manage, with or without cart.  It weaved itself through twists and turns; in mere minutes, you were sure to have ascended to the midst of the mountain.  It ran and jumped and ducked, howling as it did so.  

	You felt your stomach turn and your vision swim.  Before either could give up, however, all motion ceased to be.  And you noted you were dry, too.

	“Dangerous outs in the storms, little minotaur.  Stays in my cave now.”

	In the dim lighting, courtesy of the bioluminescent moss atop the cave's roof, you could began to make out its features: its grey coat, green eyes and floppy ears.  And the terrifyingly giant claws and fangs.

	“I-I'm not a minotaur.  I'm a human,” you offer.  If it's going to eat you, it might at least know what you are.  And when it gets addicted to your delicious meat, it'll learn that you were the only one of your kind and that it'll never taste something as delicious as you again, driving it into insanity.  

	Yeah, that's the kind of evil guy you'd be.

“Huuuuu-man,” it mimics with a howl.  “Do not knows any human.  Looks like littles minotaur to me.”

	It strides closer to you with an awkward gait, rearing on its hind legs to take a closer look at your face.  Mere inches from your face, it lifts its upper lip, showcasing a set of teeth that could bite your arm off if it felt like it.  “You smells nice, huuman.”  It holds out a paw to you.  “I am Tila.”

	And it's then that you hear it: the soft edge to her voice.  And the smile on her lips.

She blinks a few times, looking at you through a pair of emerald eyes.  Cue the most awkward moment of your life, so far.  Hesitantly, you take her surprisingly soft paw in your hand and give it a shake.  “My name's Anon.”

	With a gruff snort, she falls back on all fours.  “Anon. . .  Four letters.  Is a good names.”  With a waggling tail, she walks deeper into her little, dim-lit cave.  “Comes with me!  Gets the blood cleaned up, Anon.”

	You could run, there's nothing stopping you from it.  Lightning cracks again and the sky roars in its all-devouring voice.  You could run back outside into the storm.  The storm that Tila, who manoeuvred the mountainside like it was a playground, had claimed dangerous.

	“Hold up, I'm coming.”  



						~	~	~



	“Do you likes the foods?”  

	You'd respond properly, if it weren't for the juicy, greasy and perfectly cooked meat inside your maw.  “Yeawhhsgoo,” you manage to utter, “reewwgooo!” 

	Swallowing a mouthful of deliciousness, you grant her a smile of gratitude. “So, I guess the sayings were right about moving south.”

	She furrows her brow.  “We do not understands?”

“You used to live south of Ponyville, right?  Underneath the rocky fields?”

	Tila shakes her head, her ears comically flopping along.  “I've always lived heres in the mountain.  You knows the new Dogs?”

“Not really,” you answer, “but I live in those parts.”

	She smiles, watching you hungrily eye the meat above the fire.  Laughing , she tears a new chunk off whatever was suspended above the fire.  “You should eats plenty, Anon.  I cleans lots of your blood.”   

	Taking the piece she offers you, you mutter your gratitude.  Though, you can't help but point out the obvious either.  “Yeah, it probably would have helped had you not smacked me into those rocks.” 

	“I heards you scream and rans down.  You would haves fallen in the pit if I hadn't gotten you loose.”  

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.  “I was trying to make sure my wagon wouldn't fall in that pit.”

	The Dog shakes her head, throwing away the bone she'd just cleared of all meat.  “Too dangerous to be outs in the storms.  When snow comes, the mountain gets mad.  Very bad weathers,” she says, looking at the entrance in the distance, “Too many go outs and don't come back . . .”

“Yeah well, going back without that wagon isn't much of an option for me, either.”

	“Little red wagon not importants.  You ares safe here, that is important.” 

And in hindsight, you had to agree with her.  Rarity would be livid, to say the least, but it'd be better than not coming back at all.  

	A little.

	“We cans go back for little wagon after storm.  Pit is not too deep for climbings.”     

You snap your head towards her.  “Really?  That's great!”   

	“After storm,” she says sternly, the look in her eyes shutting you up immediately.

Swallowing the last bite of your piece, you quietly nod.  “Okay, sure.  No rush.”

	The Dog smiles at you, hopping up straight and walking towards you.  “I saves you from falling in the pit.  Gives you food, help you get little wagon back. . .”

It had to be too good to be true.  Things just can't work out for you.  There has to be some universal rule that prevents things from ever going your way.

	“Now you musts do somethings for Tila,” she says, circling around you whilst dragging her tail around your midsection.  Your swallow echoes deep into the network of tunnels.  “I wants your coat.”

	This is it.  This is how you die: mangled and beaten.  Every bone torn ou—

“My coat?”  She nods.  “B-but I'll be cold without it.”

	Walking her way behind you, you feel her sniff your back.  “Lots of fabric.  Smells nice like you.”  You feel her rub herself against your back.  “Soft!  So soft!” she barks.  “I wants it, please.”

	“If I give you my coat,”—Her tail began wagging already—“will you help me get my wagon back home?”

With the magic spell broken, you couldn't move that thing an inch, even if she got it out of the ravine.  But the way she'd climbed this mountain with only three legs and you on her back, made you think it ought to be doable for her.

	“Then I gets to keep the coat for always?” she asks.

“Yeah, sure.  It's the least I can do for you.”

	She begins hopping around the fire, letting out adorable little yips.  “You makes me happy, Anon.  Makes me very happy!”

	“What makes my coat so special?”  She stopped skipping around as you posed your question, her ears perking up straight.  Then she ran off into the distance, even deeper into the tunnels.  Even further into the dark.

	“Come!” she barked.  “I shall shows you.”

You think about dousing the fire, though given the fact that everything is made out of stone here, you decide to leave things as they are.

	A little further along the cave, a second, much smaller cave had been dug into the wall, given the illusion of it being a tiny room of sorts.  Above it, crude scratch marks of her name had been made.  You had to crouch down to enter it and with both her and you in it, it had pretty much reached its full capacity.  But what you noted mostly was how soft the floor was here, in stark contrast to the rest of the stoney cave. 

	“The mountains is cold, hard floors to sleep on,” you heard her voice as your eyes were adjusting to a new level of darkness.  “I have lots of blankets, rags, soft fabrics for sleepings.  Have fought a lot for them.  No one steals from my fabrics.”

“Oh. . .” is all you managed to mutter.  Gemstones, gold and silver as far as the eyes could see.  Instead, rags are the valuable thing down here.  Somehow, the irony is lost on you.


	“Can I haves your coat now?” she asked.  “Nice and warm and soft~” she sang as if it's the best thing she's ever come across.  “I am very happy I saved you, Anon.”  

	It just might be.

“Yeah, of course.  I'm glad you saved me too, by the way.”  With your eyes well-adjusted to the darkness now, you take it off.  As soon as you laid it on the pile of others, you felt the wind creep in between the other layers you shrouded yourself in.  Hopefully, she'd be happy with just the coat alone.  If you had to pick between going home to Rarity nude, or staying here instead, you might be stuck thinking here for a while.  

	“Where is your hairs, Anon?” she asked, watching you shivering in her little, non-lit room.

“We don't have a lot, that's why we wear all these.”

	Her tail makes muffled thuds as she lies herself down on her new, even softer bed.  “Comes lie with me.  We'll be warm togethers.  And tomorrows, we go gets little wagon from pit!”

	Cue the most awkward moment of your life, so far  —  take two.  As you lie yourself down, a respectable distance away from her, you immediately feel her paw falling over your chest, dragging you into her soft and amazingly warm belly.

	“Comfortables, Anon?”

This was, hands-down, without a doubt, the single most weird situation you have ever been in.  You don't think anything, at all, whatsoever, could top this experience.

	But honesty compelled you to admit,  “Yeah, this is pretty nice.”  You wriggle around a bit, sinking into both her fabrics, as well as her coat, and you let out a content sigh.

	Things could've turned out worse, you like to think.

“Good night, Anon,” she whispers, “Sleeps well.”

	Holding her paw against your chest, you already feel the darkness claim its ways over your mind again.  “Sleep tight, Tila.”



						~	~	~



	Sleep is an amazing thing.  It's wonderful in all its aspects; even when it's bad, it's still sort of good.  To wake you from a sleep as wonderful as this one is a dangerous thing and you fear for whomever dared to do so.

	But the soft whining, filling the darkened room, seemed like a pretty good reason.

	Your eyes need to readjust themselves again, but after what feels like hours, you can note that instead of holding you close, Tila sat in the far-off corner of her room, back leaned against the wall and her tail pressed against her legs.  Under other circumstances you'd have wondered what to be the cause of this, but now that you were awake, you could hear the storm rampaging outside, tenfold of its earlier display of prowess.  It's a wonder you managed to sleep through this as long as you did.

	“Shoulds have gone deeper in the mountains,” she softly whined.  You couldn't tell whether she was aware if you'd woken up or not.  Lightning illuminated the entire tunnel and the deafening roar that came after shook the mountain to its core.  You feared the tunnels would collapse but luckily the Dogs seemed to be, just as Rarity had said, excellent diggers.

	All you could do was wait out the worst and comfort her in the mean time.

You crawled your way over to her, taking your coat with you.  As she saw you come closer, she shifted a bit, making room next to her for you to sit.  You drape your coat over the both of you and let her lean against you.  “It'll pass,” you mutter as you stroke down her back.  “It'll go away soon, don't worry.”

	Softly, she shook her head and whined.  “Thens it comes back.  Always comes back.”

You could blame the sleepdrunk state of mind you were in, or you could blame your own stupidity for the amount of time it took you to register that.  In this particular occasion, you choose the former.

	“This isn't a normal storm, is it?”

Lightning struck again, illuminating all in a sickeningly grey color.  She trembled as she tried to hide herself underneath you coat.  “Snows is coming.  Always makes the mountain mad!  We shoulds have gone deeper in the tunnels.  Shoulds have gone deeper. . .”

	You kept stroking her.  It's all you could do, for now.  “Listen, I've got a friend.  She can make the weather go away.”

	Her soft whining grew even softer, fading away in the dark.  “I don't think they know this is going on here.  I'll tell her about the storms, she'll come and push them away, beyond the mountains.”

	“Y-You woulds do that for me?” she asked, still hiding underneath you coat.

“Of course!  You should've come to us.  Ponyville has a weather team, they can take care of this.”

	At first, you thought the rain had somehow made its way inside as you felt the wetness on your face.  Then you saw the giant tongue and felt just how warm this particular liquid felt.  “You ares the best human I haves met, Anon!”

	Your hand finds its way behind her ears and out of instinct, you give her light scratches, which she seems to enjoy a great deal.  “Yeah, I'm pretty awesome.”

	The both of you lie against each other in the dark, listening to the rain dying down.  By the time it seems to have gone back into a regular rain shower, Tila has slid into your lap, snoozing contently.

	You have absolutely no idea what time of night it is, but given the fact that it's still dark as all hell in the largest tunnel, you'd be willing to bet you could still sneak in a few hours of sleep.

	Softly, you nudge Tila.  “Hey, wake up.”  Her eyes flutter open slowly as she nuzzles herself into your lap.  A soft smile is sent your way as she comes to.  

	“You stayed,” she says, “You waited for the storms to go away for me.”

You can't help but smile back at her, gently running your fingers down her coat.  “Hey, I could think of worse ways to spend my time.”  Though it's hard to make out in the dark, you could swear she was blushing.  

	It became a lot easier to find out that she was, in fact, blushing as she perked up and sat up straight in your lap, her forelegs resting on top of your shoulders.  Somehow, the atmosphere in the room had grown tenser  — much, much tenser —  as her face was right in front of yours, her warm breath brushing past your skin.  Then she nipped at your collar bone.

	“I likes you, Anon.  So nice to me.”  You should at least try to make an effort to stop her.  “Do you likes me too?”

	Her playful teasing stopped as she brought her snout up against your nose.  Her emerald eyes stared into yours, so eager to please.  You felt her tail brush back and forth, not without response.

	“Ooooh~” she coed.  “You dooo~”

	Somewhere in the back of your mind, you feel as if you should go through an internal struggle, have some sort of mental debate with yourself.  Way, way in the back of your mind though.  See, there's that list of things you want to do.  And throughout time, that list has changed a lot.  But ever since you've made it, the same two things have always ranked on top, unyielding to your whims and frenzies.  
	The first being the motto that had landed you here in the first place: ʻget moneyʼ. The second, well, . . .

	It'd be impolite to stare, but during your stay you'd noticed her slightly-more-than curvaceous figure.  Her smile grew larger as your hands stroked her coat, downwards, all the way to her plump derriere.  Her paws traveled over your chest, trying to get the remainder of your clothes off you.  It was awkward, it was clumsy and you loved every moment of it.

	“You have very little hairs, Anon,” she whispered as your shirt slipped down to the ground.  She brought her snout close to your chest, her breathing tickling your bare skin.  Then you felt her teeth press into your skin.

	This is it.  This is how you die: mangled and beaten.  Every bone torn ou—

	And her tongue traveling over your skin as she nipped at you.  “Don't worries.  I will be gentle.”  Maybe it was the potential rush of endorphins coursing through your blood from the relief, but whatever the cause, you had to admit that this actually felt sort of enjoyable once you weren't fearing for your life.  First, there was the flare of pain for just a second as her teeth edged on breaking your skin; then, the numb bliss that came after, the pressure fading, instead replaced with a sensation of delicate sensitivity; lastly, her delightfully coarse tongue pushing down on that injured spot, the pressure and warmth sending shivers down your spine.

	“So smooth skin,” she said, nuzzling herself against you, “Smells so nice too.”

	Rather than voicing your own compliments, you showed them; your hands running along her spine, tracing the little dip right above her tail and kneading the soft, pliant skin underneath.  Your hands roamed wild and free, never having to break contact with the femme's seemingly endless rear.  She groaned softly as you dragged your hands up, brushing against the direction of her coat.  Putting her paws against your chest, she arched her back so she could travel further down your chest with little licks, placing her wonderfully full behind just outside of your reach.

	So, to cope with your losses, you let your hands travel around her body, choosing her plump belly as your current object of desire.  You'd thought of it, right before sleep had claimed itself master over you, but now you were certain you'd felt them as she'd pressed you against her earlier.  The coat on her belly is thinner and softer, and every now and then, interrupted by a little island of soft, pink flesh.  She hisses as you let your fingers travel over the sensitive little mounds, six of them in total.

	Your fingers enclose two, opposite of each other, and squeeze them gently.  With a low growl, she presses herself harder into your touch, writhing in your lap.

	“You like it when I do . . . that?”  You finish by twisting the supple skin in your grasp.  Her breath hitches in her throat and she draws in a slow breath, baring her fangs.  In response, she begins to rub herself against your crotch, increasingly harder.

	“Yessss,” she growls.  

	And who are you to deny her more?  Spreading your fingers further apart, you double the amount of little breasts in your holding.  Gently rolling the skin back and forth in your grasp causes her tail to wag back and forth with vigor, her head thrown back and her mouth hanging open in delight.  Just as you're getting into it however, she throws herself on you again, biting down on your collarbone much harder than before.

	Jumping off you, she turns around, lifts her tail and lets her forelegs slide out from underneath her.  “N-no more,” she begs.  She arches her back, raising her hind even higher.  “Please, Anon, . . . ”

	Maybe they weren't used to having some fun beforehand.  But there's no reason not to make any changes to that, even if the throbbing against the fabric of your pants was growing to be a nuisance.

	You lean in forwards and before she could even ask what you were doing and why you still had your pants on, she gasped, your skillful tongue running over her puffy lips.  “We don't have to rush,” you quietly said, both your hands now happily reunited with her divine bottom.  

	It's unlikely she'd ever find an experience to match this one: your tongue slowly caressing her sex, one hand kneading her smooth, velvety cheek while the other tugged on her little buds again.  She moaned, almost sounding like a long-drawn out whine, as she felt herself being expertly taking care of.  In this moment, there was only one thing she could think of.

	“P-pulls my tail, please,” she asked.  You complied soundlessly, the edge of your tongue sunken into her luscious warm innards, and gave a firm tug on her tush.  Immediately, you felt her spasm, her insides squeezing against your tongue as she voiced her pleasure.  With a wide smile on your face, you heard her beg, “Agains, please.  H-harder.”

	You janked her tail again, the femme falling flat on her belly as her legs gave out from underneath her.  She moaned aloud and you felt her grow wetter on your tongue as your hand let go off her.  Panting and moaning, she lied there on the floor, even as you only teased her little mounds anymore.  She wasn't too far away from her peak anymore and you knew just how to get her, and you, there.

	“See?  It's better if you take your time, right?”  You unbutton your pants, letting them fall on the floor.  She scrambles up right again and turns around, pressing her snout against your rigid length.

	“I cans try that too,” she said.  Her tongue rolled out of her mouth and the contrast from what you're used to bordered on being hilarious.  As she dragged it over your shaft, however, it became less funny and far, far more pleasing than you'd have given it credit for otherwise.

	The sight of her giant fangs, less than an inch away from your most prized possession made your heart beat like mad, only making you grow harder as she slobbered her saliva all over your crotch.  And inexperienced as she was, you had to admit that she would make you pop far sooner than you'd want to, if she kept swirling and lapping like this.  In a single stroke, she'd coat everything from your sack to your tip in a glistening sheen of tepid moistness, making sure not to miss a single spot.  And eager as she was to please, a single lick didn't quite cut it, either.

	You withheld a moan as you laid a hand on her cheek, guiding her away from you.  She looked heartbroken, her eyes full of hurt and her ears pressed flat against her head as she looked at you.  “N-no goods?”

	Shivers ran along your back as you reassured her,  “No! That was better than good.  A lot better.”  You watched her ears perk up again, her eyes dropping back to their previous half-lidded state.

	The tip of her tongue already hung out of her mouth as she spoke, “Do you wants more?”

	You had to force down a hard swallow.  Just imagining the sight of her taking care of you and you coating her entire snout a pearly white were enough to almost make it happen, right then and there.  And she was so eager to please, she wouldn't even mind.  But it wouldn't be fair to her.

	And what you had in mind certainly wasn't worse.

	“Don't you want to feel good, too?”  She nodded enthusiastically, her tail already wagging to and fro wildly.  You nodded your head towards the middle of the 'bed'.  Quick to pick up, she presented herself again like she'd done before, the coat on the inside of her thighs notably stained a much darker color.

	With one hand, you guide your tip against her slit; the other softly kneading her rear.  Slowly, you push forwards, silently groaning at how tight she was.  At first, it was a little painful even, though she didn't complain once, only rushing through shallow breaths.  And despite her tightness, you soon felt her velvety coat touch your lower abdomen, her soft flesh pressing into yours.  Entirely bottomed out into her, you held that position, your hands cupping her cheeks.  Unable to withhold your groan, you began to pull back, her insides almost refusing to let you slide out of her.  You had to take it slow, every sudden movement you made only made her contract around you, making it both impossible and painful for you to move.  

	As only your head remained inside her, you leaned over her, gripping her tiny breasts in your fingertips again.  She moaned quietly as you fondled them and just short while after, you felt yourself sliding deeper into her again, effortlessly and painlessly.

	Soon, you found an enjoyable rhythm of thrusting for the both of you.  Every once in a while, you'd stop playing with her mounds, letting her grow tighter around you again.  With her aided arousal and the ample lubrication that came with it, you could instead focus on her beautifully curved rear and the way it rippled as you slammed yourself into her, hilting with a groan.

	You could only hang your head back in utter bliss, your breathing becoming labored and rushed as her insides massaged every ridge of your length.  The way she squirmed around, her movements erratic and uncontrolled, you knew that she too was only seconds away from ecstasy.

	Pulling on her tail one last time, you felt her constrict around you, just as you bottomed out.  Her shapely rear quivered as you did your very best to fill her up.  Pressing yourself flat against her back, you drew back and slammed down again, sending another fill of your warm seed down her insides.  You felt her walls dance around your length and Tila cried out, a low howl through the night, as she joined you in your high.

	A third time, you thrusted into her before you fell slack atop of her, riding out the waves of bliss you both surfed.


	You hadn't even noticed she'd fallen sideways as your mind cleared to its usual condition, your length still firmly lodged in her tight, constructing slit.  You shifted into the various fabrics, more than willing to let sleep claim you again for the night.  This time, you got to be big spoon.

	“Makes me feel so good, Anon.”  You let your hands run down her sides, her soft coat now slightly sweaty.  She nuzzled herself into you, letting out a content sigh.  “Ssssoo good.”

	As the waves of her pleasure died down, you could tell she'd be fast asleep in just moments as well.

“Hey Tila?” 

	She nodded her head, nuzzling herself underneath your chin.  “Hmmm?”

“That little red wagon of mine . . . ”

	“Hmmm?”

“It's got five chests full of gems on it.  Think I could trade that for some gold and silver?”

	She let out a tired yawn.  “We wills go to the mines withs you tomorrow.”

You placed a kiss atop her head and listened to her fade away into a peaceful sleep.

	“Sounds good, bitch.”



						~	~	~

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