A Helping Hand P3

>Unlike other nights, this slumber is restful. No chaotic dreams, or visions. No hallucinations. Just a blissful night of recovery.
>Wait, recovery from what.
>With that thought in your brain, you wake up, face first against your pillow.
>And a cheek slick with drool.
>Goddamn that is some restful sleep.
>You throw off the Rarity emblazoned sheets and groggily clamber out of bed.
>Well, you at least made it to the side of the bed. That’s good enough.
>You rub your eyes and put on your glasses. Better.
>Sun is shining through the small window, and you mutter a thank you to Celestia.
>Look at you, it hasn’t even been that long and you’re already forgetting about God. Way to go.
>Shush brain. Today is going to be the best damn day in Equestria.
>Throwing on the boxers and a random shirt, you almost make it to door before you remember pants.
>Goddamn you hated pants.
>As you make your way downstairs and to the kitchen, you’re met with two sets of eyes both equal amounts of surprised.
“Uh…good morning?” You say, smiling and scratching your head lazily.
>Rarity immediately speaks up. “Anon, you haven’t woken up a decent hour since you’ve been in Equestria.”
>”Yeah Anon, you’ve missed out on all of the AMAZING breakfasts I’ve been making!”
>You shudder. Toast should not be a liquid.
“I don’t know, I guess I just got the beauty sleep I needed, finally.”
>You make a smirk at Rarity. Wait, why did she blush. It was a joke.
>You cock your head slightly, and go to grab some grub.
>Frosted Mini-Wheats exist here too apparently. You make a mental note to find out how Kellogg’s managed to cross dimensions.
>You sit your bowl down between the two girls, at your human sized chair.
>The birds outside are chirping happily, Sweetie Belle is adorable, this cereal is just as you remember it, and…Rarity smells nice?
>What
>She must be wearing some new perfume or something. Good thing it isn’t fucking lavender.
>Your brain is trying to remind you of something and you block it out. Memories are unneeded right now. Now, is the time for cereal.
>She is sitting in her pink robes, reading the newspaper, Equestria Daily. Her cute little red glasses are perched upon her head, and you smile. How in the world does she keep her mane all squiggly like that 24/7?
>Magic, you ascertain.
>It’s always magic.
>A knock at the door pulls you from your cereal.
>You pull the door open and are greeting with a Pegasus flying only a few feet above the ground.
>It seems to be having a difficult time looking you in the eye.
“Uh, yes?”
>It shuffles through a saddlebag and produces two letters.
“Why am I getting mail. Nop0ny even knows me, really.”
>The Pegasus shrugs and flies off. Damn she must be hella drunk.
>You shrug and close the door.
“Oh hey it’s my information from the spa!” You shuffle to the other and take a few metaphorical steps back.
>It is stamped with a sign of the sun.
“Wat.”
>”Well, what is the other one?” Rarity asks, approaching you to get a better look.
“I…it’s a letter from the princess.”
>Both Rarity and Sweetie Belle gasp loudly at this information.
>“What in the world would she send you a letter for? Did you do something Anon?” Rarity asks, a confused look on her face. Is she being serious or sarcastic?
>”Yeah Anon! What did you do?” Sweetie Belle is oddly intimidating.
“I don’t know! I don’t think I did anything…”
>You pull open the letter and…shit why can’t you read it.
“I…why can’t I read this,” you stammer.
>Rarity gives you an incredulous look, and takes the letter from you.
>Clearing her throat: “Dear Anonymous Human, I congratulate you on finally finding a job. I knew that integrating into Ponyville society would be easy for you. Indeed, all of Ponyville will require your help in these coming days. As your charge, Generosity, has more than likely told you, (You shoot a dumbstruck look at her) next week heralds the start of our races’ cycle, what we call, Estrus. As a personal therapy assistant (you giggle a little and Rarity shoots you a queer glance), you will have the heavy burden of lessening some of Ponyville’s citizens stresses.
Your Esteemed Friend,
Princess Celestia
P.S. I would not my subject’s desires to flaunt their sexual urges onto you. I’m fairly confident that humans and ponies cannot breed.”
>Your mind makes a list of things, now, to ask Rarity. Why didn’t she tell you? How did the Princess know of your job? Why in the world did she not tell you of Estrus?
>And that last line just set off a wave of thoughts in your head. Was the princess joking with you?
>Rarity looks at your brain trying to compile all of this information and sighs. “It looks like we need a trip to Twilights’. I don’t think I can explain Estrus well enough.”
>But she doesn’t move, she just stares at you.
>You don’t get the hint.
>”At least ATTEMPT to look presentable, Anon. You’re under my roof, after all. While you may not be fabulous, like me, you can at least dress fabulously.” She flips her mane a little.
>You were beginning to like the color purple a lot.
>You sigh and run a hand through your shaggy hair. You could at least take a shower, for her.
>For some reason, that makes you smirk.
>”We’ll meet you there, Anonymous. Don’t take too long.” Rarity shouts up the stairs, Sweetie Belle chiming in with a cute sounding “Bye Mister Anon!”
>These fucking ponies.
>The showers here are easily a foot too short, but some amount of bending gets the job done. There’s some sticky mess in your hair, but it comes out pretty easily.
>Another round of Berry Punch body wash and you smell like a champion. Of ponies.
>You get out and find some decent duds…wait hold on, where did these come from?
>On your bed you find a new pair of clothes; a polo shirt styled much like your ‘fancy’ shirt, and a pair of black slacks, cutie mark on the back pocket.
>In case anyone forgot, you’re staying at Rarity’s. You feel kinda like a puppy, and this is your tag. If found, please return to Carousel Boutique.
>The thought makes you smile, and you throw on your old boots. You make a mental note to try and find a cobbler.
>PONIES DON’T WEAR SHOES STUPID
>You head downstairs and walk into the amazing weather. Nothing is going to break your stride today.
>You pass through the marketplace, a smile on your face and a bounce in your stride. You smile at other ponies and they awkwardly smile back.
>You’re still the oddball here, but you don’t rightly care.
>Soon enough, you reach the tree-house-library that Twilight calls home.
>You push open the door, making a note to question the use of doorknobs in a land of creatures without the means to turn them.
>Twilight and Rarity sit around her table, sipping on cups of tea. They’re surrounded by books and barely notice you creeping into the room.
>Spike doesn’t however, and greets you with a cheerful “Heya Anon!”
>The other two turn their heads. Twilight seems to be blushing a tad, and Rarity seems pretty happy about something. God she has an amazing smile.
>Stop that.
>You stride over, still smiling, and take a seat on a stool. It’s much too small for you, of course.
”Okay so I’ve got a vague idea of what’s going on…” you start, looking at Twilight. “You guys are all going to start going all sex-crazy and I’m supposed to somehow help. Or at least, that’s what the Princess expects.”
>At this point you’re trying not to question everything, and just look to Twilight for further explanation.
>”Anonymous…this isn’t really a joking matter. “She frowns a tad, still blushing. “Estrus is a very serious matter. Those stallions without a special somep0ny stay in Ponyville, and have their doors locked until the end of the week. The stallions who don’t wish to breed are sent via train to Dodge City, to wait out the event.”
>You swallow hard. They either get locked indoors for a whole week…or they’re evacuated? Just how ridiculous does this Estrus thing get?
>You figure that now is the time for questions.
“Okay…well I guess that means I’m to be evacuated to Dodge City, right?”
>She pulls out the scroll, reads it quickly, and shakes her head no. “I’m afraid you’ve been ordered by the Princess to stay here in Ponyville.” She hesitates a moment. “…but I’m not sure what you’re supposed to do for us. The Estrus cycle is for breeding…and you’re not a pony.”
>It hits you like a freight train full of feels. Are you supposed to…
>Oh god no
>The Princess had said “…lessening their stresses…” You’re to become a pony manwhore?
>Rarity notices the look of sudden fear in your eyes. “Anonymous, it’s not what you think, I’m sure. You work at the Ponyville Day Spa. All you need to do is do your job.”
>You expected her to wink, or to lift her tail a little at that, but she seems genuinely worried for you this time.
>That’s almost worse.
>Rarity continues, “Just because we’re overcome with the urge to mate, does not mean we devolve into raving lunatics.” She scoffs, but her eyes show no ill will. “You’re just supposed to keep the citizens of Ponyville relaxed for a time. Keep the constant reminder of breeding off their minds.”
>You are now in charge of rustling every mare’s jimmies.
>And you are now completely, irrevocably terrified.
>You bury your head in your hands. Rarity puts a hoof on your head, rustling your hair gently. The gesture makes you blush.
>Why is she treating you so nice lately? She used to just treat you like a lay about good-for-nothing.
>Your brain seems to be trying to remember something important, but you shrug it off.
>Twilight breaks the silence, “The Spa has always been a way for many ponies to deal with the…” She’s blushing again. “…with their urges. I’m sure that after all of this, Ponyville will truly accept you for who you are.”
>Pulling your head up, you look to the both of them. Rarity is trying to give you a comforting smile, but it seems a little pained. Twilight is avoiding your gaze, still blushing, but you can tell that they both believe in you.
“I…I’ll do my best. Is there anything else I need to know?” You try to stay stoic.
>Twilight looks at you, serious business face on. “…Estrus is supposed to start tomorrow evening.”
>This was supposed to be the best day ever. Now it is the harbinger of bad news.
>You have less than day to prepare, but you don’t even know what you’re supposed to do. You’re not being hired to fuck a bunch of ponies, are you? No, the Princess wouldn’t dare suggest that. You’re at a Spa, you do Spa things. No happy endings.
>But still you’re terrified.
Oh come now, is it really that bad? You get to play with females of a species you find attractive all week. And they all want what you can give them. And besides, you and I both know why Rarity is being nice to you. Don’t you remember her moaning your name?
>You can feel your brain screaming as the spaghetti explodes from your fancy pants.
>All of the memories come back to you. You can only assume that your brain hid it from you for a good reason, but the sudden onslaught of feels, spaghetti, and stress come at you like a hurricane in Bikini Bottom.
>You black out.
>You awaken back at Carousel Boutique, in your bed. It’s nighttime, and all in silent in the boutique.
>Stumbling to your feet, you walk downstairs.
>All of the lights are dim except for one: Rarity’s sewing room.
>You walk into the room and see the marshmallow maiden hunched over her sewing machine…passed out.
>You smirk. That was you a couple hours ago.
>You approach her slowly, not wanting to wake her. Upon closer observation, you see an empty wine bottle on the floor next to her, the glass long since discarded.
>You sigh, still smiling. You really didn’t know why she’d drink herself to sleep, but that wasn’t the point. It’s time to take care of her, instead of the other way around.
>You gently nudge her, but she barely stirs. Berry Punch’s wine was probably some good shit.
>Plan B: Carry her.
This is a bad idea, you know.
>Penis, why are you against me carrying someone whom you think I find so maddeningly attractive?
Suit yourself. If it could wink, it would.
>You stoop and wrap an arm around her belly.
You know you could do anything right now and she’d probably never know.
>This thought causes your movements to freeze, but you man the buck up. You were Anonymous, a socially awkward human stranded in a land of magical horses, but you were no rapist.
>A look of determination in your eyes, you hoist the pony up into your arms. She’s surprisingly light. Maybe she really was made out of marshmallow?
>Of course, your eyes dart to her exposed belly. In a fit of cuteness, you kiss it gently, causing you to make yourself blush. Her skin was so soft, her fuzz just barely tickling your nose. Pulling back you notice her dainty nipples and the bare skin leading to her…
>You shake your head. Goddamnit, I have to somehow resist this for a whole week?
>Carrying her to her room you set her down on the large bed. She sure liked things luxurious. You wrap the blanket around her, tucking her in, and give her a light peck on her forehead.
>She would have never let you do that while she was conscious.
>With a smile as wide as a mile, you slowly turn around, but she starts mumbling in her sleep.
>That cutie mark is sure to come your way, now! Curiousity gets the better of you, and you kneel down next to her.
>You can smell the wine on her breath, and her makeup is smeared just a tad. Her mane is ruffled; it’s bouncy curls just a tad unwound.
>It doesn’t matter. She’s the most attractive thing you’ve seen in so long. You catch yourself blushing again.
>Stupid brain.
>As you watch her sleep, your smiling is cut short. She starts grimacing and wincing, as if in pain.
>A nightmare? You try not to notice the pun.
>Soon, you can make out a few words in the mumbling.
>”Anon…don’t go…”