Gabby & Gilda's Great Gyaru CYOA

Canterlot City, a beautiful city that charms everyone who sets their sights upon it. With hills and mountains, lush green spaces and charming waterways, it truly is a hidden jewel. But darkness lurks in the deep places; where mysteries remain unsolved and secrets reign! Yes, Canterlot City is-

“Gabby, enough!” a throaty voice rumbles out from underneath the chassis of a truck. You button your lip, scowling at the pair of work boots bouncing in irritation. “You’ve been repeating the same thing over and over for an hour now. Give it a rest.”

You were born Gabriela Griffon, but you’re Gabby to, well, everybody. If there was one word that could describe you, it would be ‘impossible’. As in, nothing is impossible as long as you put in the work! Which is what you were trying to do before you were so rudely interrupted.

Dropping to your hands and knees, you peek under the truck and find the golden glare of your cousin leveled in your direction. Gilda only has a few years on you, but she’s always been a little rough around the edges. If you didn’t know her as well as you did, you might think she hates you. But you know she’s a softy. Sometimes.

Still, you can’t let this slight slide. “Well, if someone wasn’t insisting on staying in her dumb auto shop after school let out, then maybe I would have some privacy to practice my lines.”


“You know you can walk home,” Gilda grumbles, her hands going back to the socket wrench and grinding away. “It isn’t that far.”

“Grandpa’s out of town, and you know he doesn’t like it when I’m home alone.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Get out of here if you don’t want to stay.”

Pressing your back to the bumper and your butt against the ground, you decide to wait her out. The incessant purr of the socket continues. Seconds become minutes, and minutes become forevers. You’re seriously considering the eight minute walk home when the hall door crashes against the wall.

You stiffen, holding your breath, and you can see Gilda’s boots pointing toe-down, unmoving. Her wrench is silent. The stillness persists for a moment, before the door clangs and shudders again, this time accompanied by a giggle and a grunt.

“Oof, careful Goofus,” a soft voice purrs, “You’ll mess up my hair if you keep swinging me around like that.”

Peeking around the corner of the car, you see a blonde young woman holding the head of a boy against. Even over the heartbeat pounding between your ears, you can hear him grunting, a deep, almost hungry sound as he lavishes her neck with kisses. The blonde makes small noises of encouragement, her bright, glittery nails clinging to the back of his head as she mutters his name over and over.



You’ve never seen anyone so, enthused before, giggling and clutching onto him for dear life. You position yourself for a better look, only to feel a calloused hand grab your shoulder. You turn to see your cousin looking a few shades paler than usual as she locks her eyes on the pair by the door. Her own close-clipped nails begin to dig into your shoulder as her expression hardens.

“C’mon Squirt, let’s get out of here.” You don’t bother to argue with her, instead slipping out the side door leading directly onto the campus green.

The walk is quiet as you consider what you just saw and Gilda, well, broods. Not that brooding would be any different from normal, but this time she seems especially scowly. Her thumbnail taps against her lips in an uneven rhythm, eyes unfocused. She doesn’t even notice when she walks past the car until you clear your throat.

“Gilda?”

“Yeah?” the teen responds, coming back to reality as she makes a wide circle around to the driver’s side.

“What were they doing back there?”

Gilda snorts, flicking the purple fringe of her bangs with a finger. “Come on, I know you’ve seen couples making out before. It’s just like that.”

“Uh duh, of course I’ve seen people be gross! But it just, felt different.”

“Mm.”

Sometimes that’s the only reply you get out of her, but she still unlocks your door all the same. The engine to her twenty-year old beater grinds and coughs as it turns over, but it still comes to life. For Gilda, that’s enough. Over the irritated grumble of the awakened beast, you press her again.



“I’m being serious, Gilda! That didn’t feel like the usual lovey-dovey kind of stuff you see on TV or at school.”

You struggle to find the words, but a sick, slick feeling works its way up your arms, over your shoulders, then down into the pit of your stomach. Even as curious as you are, it’s hard to ask the question. Once you ask a question, and get an answer, you can’t go back to simply not knowing. Sometimes, it seems better not to ask.

“Don’t worry about it, Squirt.” Gilda reaches out and ruffles your hair with her hand, though her voice and expression remain severe. Taking your cousin at her word, you keep yourself quiet until you arrive at home. Three whole turns, that might be a record.

You spend the rest of the night at home. It’s peaceful enough that you are able to get your homework done and eat dinner without too much trouble. One of the few benefits of Grandpa being away. It’s also horribly boring. Gilda isn’t up for doing too much aside from sulking and absently flipping through the television channels.

That’s okay though, you have your lines to practice anyway. After all, the Cutie Dinner Theater is coming up next month, and you have to get into the mind of a hard-boiled, introspective P.I.! You spend a couple hours getting into character, and finally get ready for bed after ten. Gilda follows suit sometime after midnight.

>Discovery
>[-----]
>Mystery, what mystery?

>Current Impact
>[-----] (0)
>Life continues as normal…




Cracking open your eyes in the morning, you stare up at the ceiling and scowl. This is nothing new, you are Gilda Griffon, and you wake up every morning in the same way.

Brushing the sleep from your eyes, you go to the kitchen and prepare breakfast. Sausage, eggs, toast, and a splash of Grandpa Gruff’s whiskey with your morning coffee: everything a girl needs to brace herself to face the world. Gabby, when she’s up, gets the same. Minus the whiskey and the caffeine.

You watch Gabby bounce in her seat as she eats, biting back a small smile. The kid is a dork of the highest order, but she’s not all bad. Not that you would let that go to her head or anything. Feeling the pleasant start of a buzz, you tip your coffee cup towards your younger cousin. “So, what’s on your menu today, squirt?”

Breaking out into a gristle-filled smile, the girl starts to speak around a mouthful of meat, and nearly chokes. Even after coughing herself back to normal, Gabby’s blue-green eyes glitter with excitement. Or maybe tears.

“Well,”
>A. I thought I’d practice getting into character some more!
>B. I’ve been meaning to write my pen pal a letter.
>C. Greta invited me to try out her new board game!
>D. Principal Gertrude asked to see me. Huh? Why are you laughing?
>E. Write-in

You nod along, avoiding getting drawn in by the younger girl’s enthusiasm. Hearing her plans make you consider your own options. What happened yesterday, it still doesn’t sit quite right. Maybe you should do something about that.

>1. Track down Goofus. Give that lunkhead a piece of your mind.
>2. The blonde, you don’t think you’ve seen her before. Who is she?
>3. Forget it. Those two aren’t worth your time. You have a club to go to.
>4. With Grandpa away, this is actually a prime time to cut school…
>5. Write-in





“Greta, huh? Isn’t she a bit of a snob?”

Gabby makes a small, strangled sound as she gawks at you. “Gilda! Greta’s very nice, and not snobby! She’s just, aloof.”

“That’s just another way to say she’s got a stick jammed,” you pause, noting Gabby’s brow tensing with every word. Rolling your eyes, you pull back on your insult. “Jammed in her gears.”

Your cousin visibly relaxes and starts digging through her book bag while you take a sip of your coffee. It burns just enough going down to start grinding down your morning edge, so you allow yourself a smile. “Well, have fun, I guess.”

“How about you, Gilda? You’re not going to skip school just because Grandpa’s away, right?”

“Me?” Your incredulous smirk earns little more than an eye roll. For her sake, you bite your tongue and let the question sit in silence.

It would be a lie to say that you haven’t at least considered cutting out while Grandpa is away, but there’s no point in causing a stir so early. Besides if you’re going to skip school, you want to at least want to have someone or somewhere to hang out. Maybe Dash would be up to hanging out next week.



Finishing your liquor-loaded coffee you decide to at least show up. “C’mon Squirt, we’ve got school. I’ll be in the car.”

“You know we can walk,” she says, echoing your attempt to get rid of her yesterday. Cheeky brat.

“Sure, but showing up to school in a car leaves an impression that just walking up doesn’t.”

“I guess I don’t know why it’s important that you remind everyone every day that you have a car. I mean, they all know already.”

She has a point, one which you dismiss with a wave of your hand. “Car. I’m leaving in ten.”

Despite her protest, such as it was, Gabby is in the passenger seat by the time you leave. The trip would hardly even qualify as a warm-up jog, but the car is still sputtering when you pull into a parking space on campus. Your cousin excuses herself and hurries off in the direction of the library. You linger around the car for a while longer, before strolling into the cafeteria.

“Hey, Chef,” you call out, pushing through the swinging doors and grabbing an apron from the rack by the wall. “I want to use your grill.”

“Of course you do,” a man with salt and pepper hair scoffs. Gustav regards you with a slight look of irritation as he considers your request. “How is it you only come to assist me on your own schedule, Miss Gilda?”

“Because the state doesn’t pay me to work back here. Now are you going to let me help or not?”

The slight wrinkles around the man’s eyes deepen as he squints. Clicking his tongue, he motions towards the grill. “Go then. There are hungry children and a pair of competent hands would be appreciated.”


You give him a grumble of assent and move towards the industrial grill. The cooking club member manning the station doesn’t take much convincing to go ask Gustav for another post, and soon you find yourself flipping sausage patties like a genuine fry cook.

While not an ideal career choice, you’re good enough to do it without too much thought. Your sharp nose, ears and eyes can just tell when you need to flip or serve the meat. It isn’t much of a talent, but you’ll take what you can get. It also means you can think about other things while letting your boy work on autopilot.

Things like Goofus.

Honestly, you could care less about Goofus; he’s the very definition of a meathead. And not the talented type who might get out of Griffonstone on a sports scholarship, but an honest-to-goodness lump on a log kind of idiot. He asked you out in primary school. You slugged him. Ever since then, he’s had bouts where he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. It was obnoxious.

It was also the first and only time anyone ever asked you out. After that, boys wrote you off as a violent girl, and girls threatened to sic you on rejected boys who couldn’t take a hint. Up until yesterday, none of that bothered you at all. Men should be afraid of you and women using you as a threat, well that’s just funny.

But seeing that, that stupid lunk with his hands all over blondie, and then blondie loving every minute of it, well, you are still struggling to make sense of the whole scene. Like, who would make a move on Goofus in the first place? Especially a good looking girl like blondie?



Her figure stands out in your mind, a classic silhouette of a woman. Slim shoulders, broad hips, a nice handful of breasts. Even Goofus wouldn’t have been able to ignore that, right?

A shudder rolls down your spine at the lengths the girl would have had to go through to get his attention. It begins to dawn on you that you might be jealous. Not that you would ever actually want Goofus’ attention, but the shock of someone actually wanting the lump must have rattled you. After acknowledging that, you can comfortably say it’s an incredibly stupid thing to get worked up over, and feel a bit of tension roll out of your shoulders.

The sharp sizzle of fat draws your attention back to reality and you finish up the last of the sausage for the morning.

While you are cleaning up, Gustav trots up beside you. “As usual, you did an adequate job, Miss Gilda.”

“You didn’t get any complaints, did you?” As if you even need to ask. There have only been a handful of times that anyone has said something bad about your cooking. And usually it’s coming out of this man’s craw.

“No, and that’s the problem.” With a determined huff, Gustav narrows his eyes. “Gilda, I would like you, once again, to take a more active role in the Griffonstone Cooking Club.”

“Pass; I’m not much for being told what to do. You know that.”

“Such childishness.”

“Children are the ones who are supposed to listen, right?” you offer back, to which he scoffs, but adds nothing. The two of you watch as the grill burns off the last of the water, sending steam sizzling into the air. Your work done, you remove your apron and toss it into the hamper. “Thanks again, chef.”



“I do want you to know that you are welcome here, Gilda, anytime,” the man offers, to which you only shrug. His expression hardens again and he shoos you away with a hiss and flick of his wrists. “Fine, begone! Come back on your own schedule, I do not care! I have to prepare lunch for a school full of hungry students!”

You chuckle, leaving the fuming cook to his own devices. While you may not have figured anything out about what you saw yesterday, at least your own thoughts are a little clearer, and you feel less confused about your reaction. You can face the day with confidence.

After yesterday, you don’t think Gabby will be keen on staying late at school again. Rather than having her hang around the auto shop all afternoon, you decide to take her

>A. Home. Going out is overrated and she can find something to fill the time
>B. Canterlot Mall. Maybe you can get some time away from her there
>C. Gimmie More’s Emporium. A recently opened curio shop, if only to say you hate it
>D. Maybe you should ask Gabby if she wants to go somewhere?



One would think that the library is an odd place to find a board game club. But the librarian is a bit of a die-rolling junkie herself, so she’s more than happy to offer up her office a few times a week as a place to play. And not disturb other students, of course.

As you walk into the library, a pigtailed girl around your own age catches sight of you and waves you over with an enthusiastic, and very subdued, “Gabby!”

Even spectacled girl’s strained whisper is enough to earn a sharp, hissing ‘shush’ from the librarian’s aide. Gretchen offers a sheepish smile, then grabs your hand and pulls you into the office. Greta glances up as the door closes, her short hair bobbing about as she nods to you. “Gabby, you made it. Wonderful. We have about an hour, so we should get started.”

The game seems simple enough: you take a token and a character, and then travel through a city of randomized tiles, fighting monsters drawn from a deck in each new tile, collecting all manner of stuff along the way. You even get to be the seal barbarian, clubbing your way through the hordes while Gretchen handles your wounds!

Unfortunately, you have an unlucky draw three tiles in and end up in a battle of attrition with a noodle-like monster which Gretchen and Greta can’t seem to agree on if it is or isn’t a mind-flayer. Whatever that is.

All you can do is chip and heal, chip and heal. It makes for a very boring twenty minutes, but eventually you come out on top. Greta decides to call the game there, as there is no way to complete the run, and instead focuses on getting feedback from you.


“Sorry, I don’t really know the board game language,” you admit, laughing to yourself.

“That is why I wanted you to play it,” Greta admits. “I want this game to be approachable for all types of players. Just let me know what you thought.”

“Well, fighting the noodle monster really burned through a lot of time. It was just picking up dice and rolling over and over again and it got to be kind of boring…”

By the time you finish, Greta is frowning, but still nodding in agreement. “So balance, it still needs more balance.’

“Or maybe it needs at least three players?” Gretchen offers. The two begin discussing the merits of a ‘minimum player count’ with terms that goes completely over your head. Finding a break to excuse yourself, you head out into the school. As you open the door, a thick, floral scent attacks your nose.

“Buh,” you snort, giving a small cough as your eyes start to water. Glancing around, you find the source rather quickly: a girl with incredibly pale, white hair teased out to an extreme. Although her hair isn’t the only extreme thing about her.

Like her skirt! It’s short! Crazy short, short enough that you can almost see her underwear! She’s practically indecent! Even still, she walks down the hall as though she isn’t about to show the world her panties, rolling her hips from side to side. She rounds the corner and disappears by the time you snap out of your daze.

There was something wrong with that girl. You decide

>E. To leave her alone, she’s a teacher’s problem classes are starting in ten minutes!
>F. To go after her, but keep your distance. You’ve got ten minutes!
>G. Take a more direct approach and ask her what she’s doing
>H. Be really direct and insist she go to the Principal’s office



Such deviancy, you can’t let this go on! It isn’t right to set all responsibility on the shoulders of teachers, sometimes students have to act too! Hurrying after the girl, you spot her standing in the middle of the hall, looking left and right. Steeling yourself, you walk towards her.

Before you can say anything, the white-haired woman turns in your direction. She has a delicately manicured nail on her lower lip, and her fish-like eyes light with excitement when she sees you. “Ooh! Hello little girl. Can you, like, help me out?”

Somehow the fact that she’s facing you has made the situation worse. Her shirt is unbuttoned most of the way down the front, showing off the snug fit of her cleavage to the world. This woman is wholly indecent.

Clearing your throat, you start with a squeak, “Excu- excuse me, but what are you doing?”

“Well, actually I got a little lost,” the white haired woman giggles. “I’m looking for a way out?”

From the vacant look coming back into her eyes, you aren’t sure if she meant that as a statement, or if she actually has forgotten she is trying to leave. Still, you try to help make sense of her situation.

“I can help you outside, if you tell me why you’re dressed like that.”

The woman’s eyebrows rise towards her hairline as she looks herself over. After a moment of consideration, she smiles. “Well duh, because I look super cute! And hot!”

“No,” you sigh, biting your lip. “I mean, how did you get those clothes.”

“Well, I bought them,” she responds, rolling her eyes. “At least, I think I did? Some may have been gifts. I’ve had them forever.”



“That doesn’t answer anything. Nothing you’re saying makes sense!” At your insistence, the white-haired woman regards you with a frown.

“Well then maybe you should ask a different question? Gawd, I wear what I want because I like to look good; what’s so hard to understand about that? You’d have to be crazy not to be able to figure that out.”

Seeing that the woman is about to become unruly, you hurriedly show her the exit. She leaves without too much fuss, but you are left wondering who on earth let such a strange woman into the school in the first place. More than that, what if she comes back?

Those two thoughts aren’t the only ones that dominate your brain for the rest of the day. The woman’s words echo around and around in your head. Her reasoning for wearing such a gaudy outfit was undeniably shallow, but she believed it wholeheartedly. Could she have a point?

[mildly important decision for Gabby; will run overnight]

>A. No. The rules of society should supersede one’s own desires. Looking good is not the most important thing.
>B. Maybe. There’s nothing inherently wrong with looking your best, but you shouldn’t get mad at someone for asking.
>C. Probably. Beauty and style are aspirational ideals that one should endeavor to emulate as much as possible, while still making room for your own self.
>D. She was absolutely right. Looking good is one of, if not the, most important thing. You should strive to remember that.



“Nothing wrong with two cousins hanging out at the mall,” you mutter, sliding your hands into your pockets. Besides, if she happens to find something that catches her interest, maybe you can ditch her for a bit. Who knows, maybe Dash is working too. So resolved, you go through the day, refining your offer until you’re satisfied.

The school day ends and you find Gabby out by the car, as usual. You greet her with a simple, “Hey” which she returns in kind. And then, silence.

“So,” you start your pitch, “want to g to the mall?”

“Sure.” Her reply is distant, but firm. Pursing your lips, you stare at Gabby out of the corner of your eye, trying to get a read on the suddenly silent girl. You also feel somewhat cheated, but you aren’t about to make a scene.

Instead, the two of you arrive at Canterlot Mall after a jerky ride across town. Gabby leaves her funk behind before the halfway point, and tells you a little about how her board game-thing went. Apparently she really liked clubbing things. You are a little worried about the sparkle in her eyes, but that’s just a phase. Probably.


The two of you enter the food court end of the mall. As you step towards the outer walkway, you notice Gabby has frozen in place. You watch as her big blue-green eyes scan their way across the entire expanse, her tongue darting out over and over to wet her lips. Finally, she looks up at you.

“Gilda, do you notice anything weird?”

“Gabby, what-”

“Just answer the question, please?” your cousin asks, her sliding down from worry, towards fear. “I want to be sure I’m not, you know, crazy.”

Sighing, you turn and regard the scene in front of you. After a moment, something does stand out as at least a little unusual. Looking over at Gabby, you raise an eyebrow. “Skirts?”

Your cousin closes her eyes and sighs, then smiles. “Good. You see it too. I guess that means we’re both crazy.”

Well that doesn’t sound good at all

>Discovery
>[*----]
>The world is a strange place. But don’t you think this is a little too strange?

>/End1/



/Begin2/

After taking a moment to look around again, and giving pause to a rather thick pair of thighs peeking out from under the hem of a miniskirt, you regard Gabby with a suspicious frown. “What do you mean, we’re both crazy? You’re talking about the stupidly short skirts some of these girls are wearing, right?”

“Yeah, but if I’d said anything, would you have noticed?”

“Of course,” you falter, looking back out at the crowd again. Actually, on second glance, you might not have realized anything. Sure some of the girls were wrapped up in skirts that would barely be legal, but they are still few and far between. Maybe one out of every couple dozen or so, just enough that you would notice a difference I you were told to look. Despite the realization, you try to sputter out a confident line. “I mean, eventually you have to notice.”

Gabby’s eyes light up with excitement. “Oh good, then you saw them at school too? How hem lines are rising for a lot of girls?” You hadn’t noticed at the time, but considering the amount of leg you were watching today, maybe she has a point? For the moment you stay quiet and let your cousin continue.

“It just seems like a really unusual choice for girls to start wearing the same thing at the same time, but nobody seems to take notice. It’s not a coincidence, there has to be a reason.”

“A stupid social media gag?” You nearly choke on the suggestion, but it at least causes Gabby to pause. And gives you a chance to push back on this ‘short skirt’ conspiracy theory of hers. “Look, I understand that you and I think it’s weird, but that doesn’t mean anything. I mean, we’re from Griffonstone, Gabby. Canterlot High and Crystal Prep might as well be different worlds. Who knows why they do the things they do. And I’m sure they think the same about Griffonstone.”



Gabby sours at your counter, but doesn’t offer a rebuttal. Even still you can see the gears spinning about behind her eyes, so this reprieve is momentary. You press your thumb against your lip, looking around the mall food court again. There still seems to be an excessive abundance of bare thigh and now that Gabby’s said something, you can’t stop noticing it. For a moment you catch a flash of hot pink from one girl, but it vanishes faster than it appeared.

“I’ve got it,” Gabby grins, drawing your eyes back to her. “Since we both need some convincing, the thing we need right now is-”

>A. “More confirmation. Do you know anyone here we could ask?”
>B. “Fresh perspective. If a stranger agrees with us, that’s valuable information.”
>C. “More data. Let’s go through the mall and see if the situation is the same.”
>D. “To see where they’re coming from! Or at least where they’re shopping.”
>E. You cut Gabby off. This is not why you came out to the mall, just enjoy the trip



“To see where they’re coming from! Or at least where they’re shopping. Once we find the source, we can figure out if this is just a natural fashion swing, or something else.”

Your cousin puffs herself up, beaming as she starts off down the mall corridor. It probably won’t be that easy, but her enthusiasm is hard to dismiss. Jamming your hands into your pockets, you match her pace within a few strides, adding, “You know this wasn’t my intention in coming out here tonight.”

“Come on, what’s the harm?”

“Aside from looking like we’re creeping on schoolgirls?”

Gabby doesn’t have a response for that. Oh well, you think with a smirk, you can deal with that if it becomes an issue.

The two of you spend the better part of an hour walking back and forth throughout the mall. Finding a place where the girls congregate is difficult, but eventually she determines the best lead is a clothing store called ‘Modern Gals’. While you don’t come out to the mall frequently, this place still looks relatively new and from the string of people walking in and out, there’s at least some curiosity about it.

“So you’ve found your ‘source’,” you tease. “What next, Squirt? Are we going to stake out for the rest of the night? Should I go get us some burgers?”

“Let’s check it out!” Gabby insists. Before you can protest, you find yourself surrounded by some of the kitschiest clothing designs you’ve ever seen. Everything around you is loud, garish, and there doesn’t look to be a single pair of jeans in sight. You suppress a shudder of revulsion as an overwhelmingly sweet and floral perfume assaults your senses.



“Jeez Gabby, it this whole place looks and smells like Lisa Frank’s nightmare.”

But your cousin is already engaged in digging through a rack of clothes, her eyes alight with excitement. That is hardly surprising, the girl does tend to throw herself into just about anything she tries and is always up to challenging something new. But this is different from her usual intensity. She seems to be honestly enjoying inspecting the designs and comparing them to what other women in the store are wearing.

You had no idea Gabby was so

>Fashion Conscious [Novice]
>Gabby’s understanding of style is limited, but she soaks in information like a sponge. She can notice when trends are changing, but has little influence over them at this time. Bonus to clothing-related events; advanced by engaging in activities centered on fashion.

Gabby mumbles to herself as she continues down the line. This might take a while. With nothing else to do, you stroll through the rest of the store taking in a general lay of the land.

It turns out Modern Gal does have pants, and not just capris either. Granted, they don’t look comfortable and are more for show, but at least the owners are trying to reach a wider clientele. And there are some odd things as well, like leather jackets (including some without glitter), some impressive boots scattered amongst a sea of heels and flats, and other outliers. By no means do they take up much shelf space but they do stand out.



“You like Tough?” a sweet voice asks to your left. You turn and find a pair of big purple eyes, and a smirk that promises nothing but trouble. “You seem like the type.”

“Tough?” you let the world trail off as you look the girl over. She’s more or less average, although she does have a fairly prominent bust, but her selling point is her face. Her eyes, coupled with her freckled cheeks and the melon green streak in her otherwise purple hair really make her stand out in a crowd.

“Tough. T-U-F-F,” the girl spells it out for you, rolling her eyes and making a small gagging noise that practically screams ‘gawd, I swear’. She shakes her head and then returns to smiling. “Sorry, I forget that these designs are new to most people, Tuff is our clothing line for more active girls. Sour Sweet, I’m on staff here. What are you looking for?”

Oh, she’s circling you for a sale. You decide to put this to bed quickly. “My cousin,” you indicate the dark-haired girl currently picking through a selection of bras. “She wanted to check this place out. I’m just along for the ride.”

Sour Sweet hisses behind her teeth, her expression sliding towards a glare. “I should have figured. You’ve got a style that screams ‘I don’t know what I’m doing and I don’t care’.”

She isn’t wrong; you picked up your jeans off the bedroom floor this morning and found a relatively clean t-shirt from the hamper. Even still you can feel the hairs on your neck start to bristle. “Excuse me? Do you just insult anyone who comes in here?”



“Is it an insult if it’s the truth?” the melon-streaked girl asks, bringing a finger to her lips in mock thought. “I mean, I would want to know if I looked like a walking disaster. And if someone offered to help me fix that, well, I think that they would be the most kind and generous soul I had ever met.”

The inside of your palm begins to sting before you realize you’ve been clenching your fist. This girl is really getting under your skin. So what are you going to do about it?

>A. Walk out of the store and call Rainbow Dash. Gabby can find you when she’s done.
>B. Let Sour Sweet do her job, ask to see more of this ‘Tuff’ line
>C. Play along, ask Sour Sweet to see one of the girlier lines
>D. Just stick close to Gabby, you don’t trust her around these aggressive sales tactics.

Further, pick a tone:
>1. Aggressive. Nobody pushes you around, you do the pushing. She’ll learn.
>2. Mediate. With this many people around, causing a scene might be a bad idea
>3. Tease. It’s been a while since you’ve had a chance to mock someone. Relish it.



Okay, Gabby, time to be honest with yourself. You may not have been entirely straight with Gilda when you suggested going to find where all these short-skirted girls are coming from. Doing interviews or collecting data would probably have been a better approach to determining if something strange was going on, but with that white-haired woman still spinning around in your head, you haven’t been able to get any peace.

She liked to look good, but how could she like wearing that outfit? You had to understand her better. In truth, there were a couple other locations that caught your attention: a nail salon, a stand-alone photography booth, and a cosmetics shop. But this was the only clothing store that stood out. And once you walked in, you began to understand.

It isn’t just the ‘act’ of looking good, but it makes you feel good too. To be a little risky, just for the fun of it. As you pick up a too short skirt in your size, you can feel your cheeks heat up as you imagine getting caught at an inopportune moment. Or the absolute wild designs on these bras! Tiger stripes, neon polka dots, the kind of loud underwear that anyone could see through a thinner, light colored shirt.

“It’s not like you’d actually be showing anything off,” you mutter to yourself, wetting your lips with your tongue. “It’s just like normal clothes but a little less, discrete. More fun than flaunting, right?”

As you look out over the array of clothes, you give a tender sigh. Gabby Griffon, you may have just found a slice of paradise.

The brand is ‘Chicy’ and is full of whites and other light and pastel colors. Everything looks to be very breathable, and dancing along the line of too short to be decent. Even the shirts would probably show some belly if you turned the right way. It all comes across as very playful and fun, while not quite committing to anything.



You also take a quick look over the ‘Tuff’ brand, which is somewhat similar to what you already wear. Darker colors, but solid. The pants look uncomfortable, and the skirts aren’t as short or frilly, but they are a snug fit, designed to show off curves rather than breathe. There’s a certain enticing pull to them, mature, strong, and a little mysterious.

As you are bouncing back and forth between the two, you find one more that takes your breath away. For all the wrong reasons.

‘Bargain Bim’ is in a word, terrifying. Micro skirts, tube tops, all glittery everything! You can’t imagine walking around the house in any of these outfits, much less going outside! Even your underwear leaves more to the imagination than this stuff! But, it’s also the closest you can imagine getting to the white-haired woman’s outfit. Even then it goes above and beyond what she was strutting around in. Was, was it really that much fun?

Biting down on your lip, you look down at the armful of outfits you had picked out from across the two other brands. After a moment’s consideration, you grab a Bargain Bim outfit as well and hurry into a changing room.

You try them all on in turn, but the brand that seems to fit you most is

>A. Chicy
>B. Tuff
>C. Bargain Bim
>D. None of them, unfortunately. But you do have an eye for what might be nice in the future!



You watch Gabby duck into a changing room and let out a small sigh. Good, it’s probably better if she doesn’t see you throwing your weight around. Making a scene is probably a bad idea, but nobody pushes Gilda Griffon around.

“Full of yourself much?” Your snort earns a hateful look from Sour Sweet which falters as you take a step towards her. “Listen up, dweeb. I don’t care if you do think you’ve got the hottest clothing tips in the world, you still don’t talk to me that way.”

Sour Sweet’s expression darkens, seemingly more serious even as she takes a step back, and then another to mirror your own. “Now, listen here, I’m an employee-”

“One who’s been running her mouth off to a potentially paying customer,” you continue walking forward, infringing on her space. The two of you move in tandem, but each step brings your longer body closer. Within seconds, Sour Sweet backs into the counter. When she looks back, you move in for the kill.

Your palms thud onto the counter on either side of her. Sour Sweet, a full head shorter than you, looks up with a mixture of shock and fear, her purple eyes dancing between your face and the back wall. A thin sheen of perspiration across her forehead, and you know you’ve made your point. But, just to drive it home, you tower over her for a short while longer. It’s been a while since you’ve felt this good.

>The Natural Order [Novice]
>Gilda has always had a knack and delight for enforcing her will on others. She can quickly read a room but her agitation may make a situation worse before it gets better. Bonus to intimidation-related events; advanced by engaging in activities involving bullying.



Leaning forward, you brush your own breasts against hers and whisper, “Now, about ‘Tuff’, can you show it to me?”

“O-Of course,” Sour Sweet nods, finally beginning to breathe again as you step away. She holds a hand over her chest as she walks back towards the rack then begins digging through it with gusto. After a few minutes, she’s put together three outfits for you. “Now, let’s get you changed.”

That puts you on the back step. “No, I, I figured I’d just buy them and head out.”

“No, absolutely not,” the melon-striped girl says with a snap. “You have to try these on otherwise I won’t know for sure if they will be a good fit. Now, take these, and go.”

She gives a gentle shove towards the changing rooms, not enough to force you to go forward, but you feel compelled to go anyway. The room is spacious, enough to fit two or three people comfortably. You know this because this girl insisted on coming in with you, sitting on a small outcropping in the corner.

“Is it really necessary for you to be in here?” you ask, feeling unusually vulnerable for once. “I can make my own decisions you know.”

“You asked me to help you find clothes,” Sour Sweet responds. “Those three are good enough on their own, but when it comes to underwear, I need a closer look.”

“I am not buying any underwear from this store!”

The small, choking gag sound makes a resurgence as the salesgirl rolls her eyes. “Right, okay. We’ll see about that. Just get changed? I won’t even peek.”

Sour Sweet makes a show of bringing her hands in front of her face, fingers spread, and then closes them. Turning away, she takes out her phone and begins scrolling through it. Apparently that’s the best you’re going to get out of this stubborn girl.


“Take a picture and you’re dead,” you warn her, to which she responds with a double flick of her wrist. Having made your intentions clear, you untie your boots and slide your jeans down. Despite having spent hours in a gym locker room with other girls, there’s a certain intimacy of bending over that makes the knot in your stomach tighten. It must be the enclosed space.

To her credit, Sour Sweet doesn’t seem to respond at all. It must be part of the job, watching women stick out their rear ends. That’s not awkward to think about.

You right yourself quickly and your t-shirt soon joins your pants on a small hanger. Now Sour Sweet looks up, nodding in silent approval. “Okay, I think I can work with this.”

Work with what? You give yourself a once over in the mirror and almost immediately regret it. Your body is nice, of that you’re relatively certain. But years of track and field training burned away most of the fat you had as an older girl and left you with a long, lean body. Thanks to your larger than average chest, you aren’t all sharp angles and edges, but sometimes you feel pretty close. Your toes curl against the carpet and you quietly curse being convinced to come in here with this girl.

Wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible, you pull on the first offering, a black, vest-like short-sleeved shirt that goes down to the hips then rises towards the middle. The neckline is low too, giving a view of both cleavage and belly. Coupled with a pair of blue jeans that may as well be painted on, you turn in the mirror and find yourself pleasantly surprised.

Even if you were pushing towards the top-heavy side of things, your stomach was always a point of pride. Smooth, almost flawless, but it always seemed to play second fiddle to your chest. But now, seeing them work together, you have to admit that it’s a nice look.


The second is similar to the first except it’s full sleeved and has a large portion of the back cut out, from the hip up to about the shoulder blades. It’s a little harder for you yourself to appreciate, but seeing Sour Sweet smirk and the way the muscles of your back look, is enough to let you know that it’s pretty good too. The shorts are a little high for your liking, coming up to mid-thigh, but they are snug enough that you wouldn’t risk flashing your underwear at anyone.

The last outfit is the one which gives you pause.

“I’m not wearing a skirt.”

“There is nothing wrong with a woman wearing a skirt.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wear skirts,” you snap back shaking your head. “Look, I run. I work on cars. I can’t be looking, girly.”

Sour Sweet cocks a hand onto her hip. “And what’s wrong with being a little girly? Just because I’m a Chicy girl doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a good pair of jeans, so you should be able to see that sometimes you’re going to want to wear a skirt.”

“Yeah, never going to happen.”

“Just, indulge me, would you? Skirts and jackets are a fantastic combination.”

You frown and look down at the skirt, knowing that you don’t owe this girl anything. But somehow the nearly knee-length navy skirt ends up clinging to your hips, baring your runners legs for the world to see. Well muscled but still girlish. The jacket hangs loose over a belly baring and high necked t-shirt, highlighting your feminine qualities while also obscuring them. In a word, it’s flirty.

You hate it.




But after considering yourself for a few moments more, you sigh and have to admit she has a point. You do look good.

“I’ll take all three.”

Sour Sweet gives you a smirk. “Not without underwear you aren’t.”

“Fine, but just one pair.”

“I’ll make you look great,” the girl assures you, slipping out as you change back into your t-shirt and jeans. After trying on something different, they feel a little stifling.

When you arrive at the checkout, Gabby is just taking her bag from the clerk when you walk up beside her. “Hey, Squirt.”

“Gilda!” your cousin squeaks, pulling her bag against her chest. “Oh, jeez and crackers, don’t surprise me like that!” When you cast a look down at her bag, your young cousin blushes and starts to sputter. “This, you know this isn’t what it looks like.”

“Sure it isn’t,” you tease, and then nod your head towards the changing rooms. “Don’t worry; they got their hooks into me too. I don’t know how much use I’ll get out of them, but it’s nice to have something new.”

Gabby blinks, as though your words are finally resonating with her, and lets loose a sigh of relief. “Right, yeah, new clothes.”

She’s being awfully suspicious. Responsibility rears it’s ugly head as you ask, “Anything you want to add?”

With a quick shake of her head, the still flushed Gabby smiles up at you. “Not a thing!”

You want to press her further, but a pair of striped panties suddenly appear in front of your face.

“Do you like Zebra or Tiger print?” Sour Sweet asks, grinning. Gabby starts to laugh, and it’s the only thing that keeps you from shoving the cheeky girl back against the counter again.


Needless to say you leave with both. The ride home is a little awkward, as both of you begin to realize that despite wanting to investigate the short-skirt phenomenon, all you really did was help perpetuate it.

>Current Impact
>[***--] (0)
>Have you noticed all those girls in short skirts running around? Weird, huh?

>Gilda
>[*----] (0) [Unfashionable & Unfeminine Senior]
>Huh? You want to say that again to my face? Yeah, that’s what I thought.

>Gabby
>[****-] (0) [Plucky & Scatterbrained Underclassman]
>I can’t believe I forgot again! No, no, let’s go anyway, I can’t wait!

After arriving at home, you go through the routine of preparing dinner for yourself and Gabby. While doing so, you call up your friend, Rainbow Dash.

“Hey G,” she laughs, springs creaking over the phone. “What’s up?”

“Hey Dash, good to hear your voice.” The girl on the other end chuckles and responds in kind. With that out of the way, you pop the question. “Say, have you heard anything weird over at CHS about some kind of short-skirt challenge or something?”

“No,” your friend drawls, “I don’t even think that’s an actual thing. I mean, who’s going to make something like that? It sounds like some kind of bad prank some guys would set up just to see some legs.”

Well, that’s out. Clicking your tongue, you continue. “Gabby and I noticed that a lot of girls were going around like that today, so I thought I’d ask if you heard anything.”



You expect Rainbow to laugh it off, but the line goes quiet, save for her breathing. After a moment, your friend speaks up again. “Hey G, you haven’t talked with anyone else about this, have you?”

“Just Gabby, why?”

“Because one of my friends, Fluttershy, said the same thing. You remember her, right?”

“Vaguely.” You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to add that you don’t think you got along with her. “But she saw noticed something too?”

“I guess. Maybe the two of you should get together tomorrow and talk it out. It is Saturday after all.”

You consider that for a moment. Maybe it would be good to get some outside perspective.

>A. Sure, I’ll meet up with Fluttershy. Wherever she wants.
>B. Can both of you come out? You can pick where we meet, Dash.
>C. Actually, I’d rather just hang with you. Can you swing by tomorrow morning?
>D. I’ve got plans already actually [Free Action/Accompany Gabby]

With that squared away, you say your goodbyes and hang up. Dinner should be ready soon…




Standing in front of the mirror, you twist yourself from side to side. A realization comes upon you, slow and steady, “Gabby, you are in so much trouble if Grandpa finds out.”

The skirt, no, it is not even deserving of such a title. The strip of cloth around your waist fails to even cover the swell of your thighs, instead designed to show off the string-like underwear underneath. Your face burns with shame as you turn and regard the excessive expanse of bare flesh that is your butt. While your body is still developing, the thread has already vanished into the cleft of your cheeks.

“I look like a tramp,” you mutter, a small thrill running through your body. Taking a moment to tug on the string at your hips, you wince as it pulls tight against your crotch. “Ooh, careful with that.”

The top isn’t much better, stretching from near the bottom of your armpit to the top of your ribs, with ‘Princess’ stretched out across the front in glittery script. It’s a far cry from the vest and jean-short combo you picked out from the Tuff collection. But in spite of the wrongness, you can’t deny the thrill that comes from admiring yourself. Maybe, if other people looked at you the same way-

“No, no, no,” you assure yourself, stripping down to the pastel Chicy underwear you convinced yourself you couldn’t live without. “It was a mistake; I should at least take this outfit back as soon as possible.


Putting aside the matter of decency, you change into an oversized t-shirt and flop onto the bed. Because of your eagerness, the mystery of the short-skirts is still just that, a mystery. But you aren’t about to let it get you down. You have a whole weekend ahead of you to figure things out.

In fact, you should get started right away. You decide to spend your Saturday morning

>E. With your friends, the Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo! Four heads are way better than one!
>F. Scope out downtown and see if there are other places that short-skirted girls frequent for future leads.
>G. Interviews! Lots of interviews! You’ve got to get the word on the street to understand the situation, right?
>H. Actually, Gilda might have some ideas of her own. [Free Action/Accompany Gilda]



Having so resolved to grow your team, you send out a group message to your friends, the Cutie Crusaders. You remain suitably vague about what is going on, instead just suggesting that you all meet up tomorrow at the clubhouse. They all agree readily before you are called to dinner.

Gilda is in especially good spirits, since it seems she received a package she has been waiting on for some time. Apparently it should make her junker run like a dream once she finishes installation tomorrow morning. You’ll believe it when you hear it, but you can at least be excited for her.

The night ends without too much else going on; Gilda spends most of the night under or hunched over the car, and you get started on your weekend homework. However you do find something unusual in the bag while hanging up most of your clothes: a jar of body cream, and what looks to be a small box with ‘Power!!!’ printed across the top in an explosive, comic book style script. There’s only a single pill inside to push-tray, making it look like a sample more than anything.

Grandpa taught you not to take weird things from strangers, so you just stuff them into your book bag to bring up as ‘evidence’ at the meeting.

You aren’t sure when Gilda finally gets to bed, but she’s up before you with breakfast ready, like most mornings.

“Morning, Squirt,” Gilda yawns, ruffling your hair and taking a sip of her coffee. As with yesterday, you can smell the faint sting of alcohol on her breath but remain quiet. She probably thinks you don’t know, but Gilda isn’t exactly the most discrete when she’s knocking around in Grandpa’s liquor cabinet. Sitting down at the table, she shovels down a forkful of eggs. “Still headed out to that farm?”




“Mhmm. The girls said we could talk until about lunchtime, then Scootaloo has practice and Applebloom has to start helping on the farm. How about you?”

Your cousin regards you with her bright gold eyes. “Just meeting up with Dash and a friend of hers. Catch up and stuff.”

“Are you going to ask her about, you know what?” you ask, grabbing the leg of your jean-shorts and giving them a little tug.

“Ugh, no,” Gilda responds, far too quickly. “We’re just meeting up for coffee at this place near the mall. That’s all.”

You grin at her, remaining quiet for the moment, but also considering your options. If she is meeting up near the mall, maybe she can do some investigating with her friends? She might already have some extra plans in mind, and you aren’t sure if she would be okay investigating them on her own. Not to mention she might be a little put off that you didn’t tell her yesterday. Should let Gilda know about the cosmetic shop, nail salon, and photo booth that caught your eye?

>Yes
>No



You finish your breakfast and Gilda drops you off at Sweet Apple Acres a little while after 9:00. To your shock, the car actually purrs all the way to the outskirts of town. Not a single hiccup! Will wonders ever cease?

Giving a quick goodbye and shouldering your bag, you hurry up to the front of the farmhouse, where you are greeted by the cheery redhead, Apple Bloom.

“Howdy, Gabby! It’s always a pleasure to have you come visit the Crusaders! Have you been getting your practice in for the Cutie Dinner Theater?”

“Of course!” you giggle, walking side-by-side with your friend. “In fact that’s how I stumbled upon this mystery.”

Apple Bloom’s grin widens as she opens the door. “Well let’s not waste any time! The girls are already here, so go ahead and spill!”

You nod to the Scootaloo, a skinny girl with purple, short-cropped hair, and the doe-eyed Sweetie Belle who is practically squealing in excitement as she prepares to hear you out.

“Well, it all started in the auto shop classroom at Griffonstone…”

“…and then Gilda agreed with me that there were way too many short skirted girls around and we started investigating.”


The initial excitement that filled the room seems to have fallen flat. Sweetie Belle especially is looking at you as though you’ve grown a second head. She is, of course, the first to speak.

“So you’re just now noticing that girls wear short skirts when it gets warmer?”

A very different type of shame courses through your cheeks at the obvious question. “Well, I mean, I always noticed, but it just seemed weird that so many people would start doing it at once. And it’s not even that warm out.”

“Folks do have different sensibilities, no reason for a bunch of girls to start thinking its warm enough to wear a short skirt,” Apple Bloom chimes in, hiding her disappointment well, but clearly siding with her squeaky friend.

“Well I get where you’re coming from,” Scootaloo frowns. “I don’t know what the deal is, but everyone is ditching pants and shorts for skirts, and I don’t like it!”

“Are you still sore about Rainbow wearing spats with her skirt?” Apple Bloom says with a giggle. “That was three years ago!”

“And it’s still not right!” the purple-haired girl insists, looking over at you. “You were right to come to us, Gabby. The encroaching skirt-menace should absolutely be taken seriously.”

A small sigh escapes your lips as you wonder if this was actually a good idea. “But, there was also this newish store in the mall, Modern Gal?”

Sweetie Belle, who hand been examining her hair, immediately jumps back into the conversation. “Ooh, have you been there? Rarity says a sensible woman shouldn’t be anywhere near that place, but I’ve heard nice things. What did you think?”


“Well, I got these shorts and top,” you admit, keeping the racier purchase (that you will absolutely be returning) quiet for now. “And some underwear, but they seemed nice. Still, everything in there was a little on the skimpy side. I can see why Rarity wouldn’t like it.”

“You got that from there?” Apple Bloom asks, looking you over with a curious smile. “It looks good on you Gabs. You really fill it out nicely.”

A nervous giggle escapes your lips as you brush your fingers against your hair. They don’t need to know that your chest and hips are feeling a little more snug than they were yesterday, right?

“A-Anyway, when I left I found these stuffed away in my bag.” You pull out the cream and supplement. “I didn’t buy them, so apparently they’re free samples? But, I mean, who gives away a muscle builder and a fake breast cream?”

Scootaloo snatches the cream away, spinning it around in her hands as she reads the label. “At least three sizes, huh?” Purple eyes meet your own, then dance around to the other members of the group. “…Wanna try it out?”

The other girls seem game to try, but something about this seems wrong. What do you want to do?

>A. No! You don’t know where that’s been or what it might do!
>B. Agree to let one of the girls try it out (which?)
>C. Agree to try it out yourself

Further, they at least seem interested in Modern Gal, how do you want to approach this situation?

>1. See if they’ve noticed any other unusual locations around town recently
>2. Try to steer the conversation back on track to your short-skirt idea
>3. Talk up the store a little more and see if any of them might be interested in an investigation on their own



“Damn it, Gabby,” you quietly curse as you pull into the coffee shop parking lot. “If you noticed something you should have said something! God, I can’t believe I spent an hour and a half in that trashy store yesterday.”

Despite your complaints, you are still wearing the pair of jeans you bought yesterday. They cling to your legs and look like they were painted on, but they are far more comfortable than you originally thought. Likewise with the coat and belly-baring t-shirt. Maybe you wanted to show off a little for Dash and her friend. Speaking of, Rainbow is sitting on the railing out front and flags you down when she spots your car.

“Hey! Looks like somebody’s been getting some sun,” she teases as you walk up to her. You frown, looking down at yourself and, yes, there is a slight, sun kissed sheen to your skin that wasn’t present yesterday. As you try to reason out when you’ve ever been out in the sun, Rainbow continues. “I’ve missed that look, it’s familiar. Like when we competed back in junior high.”

“That was a long time ago,” you laugh, waving your hand and then cupping the underside of your breast. “A long time and about five cup sizes.”

Dash buzzes her lips, her own gently browned skin glowing in the midmorning light. “You’re a riot, G. Fluttershy is already inside, so lets go catch up, okay?”

In the interest of avoiding getting any more mysteriously tan, you readily agree. The Rainbow Dash hops off the railing, her sprightly body still standing only about shoulder height with you, and leads you inside to a table. A pink haired girl, straight hair, not frizzy like you thought, glances up with big green eyes.



“Oh, good morning,” she whispers, flinching back a little as you scrape your chair against the floor. “It’s been a while, Gilda.”

“Fluttershy, right?” you start, having absolutely no recognition of where you have met this girl before, but can play a part at least. “Good to see you again.”

The Canterlot students share a look, but Fluttershy smiles all the same. “Likewise. I am glad to know that this meeting should be a little less, um, stressful.”

They might not say anything, but they really don’t have to; you recognize that look. Obviously you did something to this girl in the past, but she’s such a wallflower that you can’t even remember the incident. Still, she seems to know something, so maybe you can milk her for some information. You decide to cut to the quick.

“So, I spoke with Dash yesterday about a weird thing my cousin noticed. There seem to be a lot of girls walking around with short skirts lately.” Another flinch from Fluttershy, this one much more subtle. You push further. “Really short skirts; like, the kind that border on indecent. Do you know anything about that?”

She nods, but remains quiet for a few seconds longer. Despite her sweater and baggy pants, the girl looks like she’s shivering. “I noticed, at least. It’s hard not too when so many girls are, um, flaunting themselves. I didn’t think much of it because that’s what some girls do, but then I started noticing them breaking into um, packs?”

“Cliques,” Rainbow tries to correct her, but Fluttershy shakes her head.



“Oh no, this is much more than just high school social hierarchy. This is something almost animalistic. They get this look in their eyes, a hungry look and-”

“Fluttershy has a tendency to conflate everything with animals,” the chromatic-haired girl cuts in with a laugh. “She just loves critters. Hey, I’m going to get a protein shake, you want anything Gilda? Shy?”

You give Dash your order and Shy does the same, leaving the two of you alone. Despite her building enthusiasm, Shy seems a little reluctant to continue now. But it seems like she’s noticed something you haven’t. Or she’s just a nutter. How do you want to handle this?

>A. Rainbow has pretty clearly taken the wind out of her sails, just make small talk
>B. Try to get Fluttershy talking again; she might be crackers, but this could be a lead
>C. You apparently put the fear into this girl once before, maybe she’d respond better to some gentle bullying?



“Come on, Gabby,” Scootaloo teases, waving the jar in your face. “Don’t you want to know what you’d look like with honkers like your cousin?”

“Fine, fine!” you throw your hands into the air, much the purple haired teen’s delight. That smile bugs you a little, so you throw it right back in her face. “But you get to be the one to try it.”

That gets you a nice reaction. Scootaloo’s smile falters as she sputters, “What? Why me? I play sports, I can’t deal with stupid bumps on my chest!”

Sensing blood in the water, Apple Bloom slides up to her with a grin as she slings her arm over the slimmer girl’s shoulders. “C’mon Scoots, y’all were so eager to try it, so why wouldn’t you be the one to test it out?”

“Yeah,” Sweetie joins in on the verbal dog pile, “if anyone should test it, it should be you or Gabby.” There’s a heavy moment before she tacks on. “But if it works, I would be willing to try it too.”

“Three against one,” you say with a smug smile. “So, are you going to do it?”

>Rebel Without a Cue
>Gabby has picked up a couple habits from her cousin since they started living together. Sometimes she acts against conventional wisdom just for the sake of doing it. Bonus to social/peer pressure events. Prone to emulate those she idolizes, even if they are behaving badly.

“Fine!” Scootaloo shouts, eerily reminiscent of your own admission. “I’ll put on the stupid cream. It’s probably expired and won’t work anyway!”

Scootaloo moves over to a secluded corner of the club house, facing away from the three of you, and lifts up her shirt. Your eyes linger on her tanned, gently muscled back for a moment, noting that the girl has forgone a bra entirely. She really is as flat as a board.




“Okay, while we’re waiting, I have to ask you girls something.” Turning back to Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle, you adopt a serious expression. “Maybe the short skirts idea is me overreacting, but you have to admit that Modern Gal sounds like a weird place. So what if there are other weird places like that in Canterlot City and Griffonstone? Have you girls heard anything about that?”

That line of thinking sparks some interest. Apple Bloom mentions an unusual shop that recently opened up in Griffonstone, owned by Gimmie More. Apparently she sells all kinds of odds and ends and knick knacks. Granny has been a frequent customer and always comes home with something weird.

Sweetie Belle supports your theory about the cosmetics shop at the mall. Apparently it was another place that Rarity told her to stay away from, warning her about ‘the gauche clientele and even worse service’. Sweetie’s hoity-toity mockery of her sister always brings a laugh from the group.

Having lathered her chest down and pulled her shirt back into place, Scootaloo rejoins the group with a story of her own. Apparently her morning runs take her along a not-so great part of town, and there’s a secret club down one of the alleys. She isn’t sure where exactly, but there are always groups of women walking together when she goes by.

“You should probably change your running route,” Apple Bloom warns, but Scootaloo waves her off.

“I’m fine. I can outrun just about anybody, and the police station isn’t too far away. Officer Top even says hello to me every morning, so if I didn’t come by she’d notice.”

The redhead makes a small sound of disapproval but drops the subject. The conversation shifts to how each of you are practicing for the Cutie Dinner Theater, and time ticks by with agonizing slowness as you each shoot occasional looks at Scootaloo. Ever time you glance over, her smile grows ever wider.


It’s Sweetie Belle who finally asks, “So did you notice anything yet?”

“Nope.” Threading her fingers behind her head, Scootaloo offers a cheshire grin. “Told you that stuff was stupid.”

Despite her bravado, you can see Scootaloo’s shoulders sag a little. Probably out of relief, but maybe not. Shrugging, you pack up the snake oil bust cream in your bag and turn to discussing more pleasant things.

You end up spending the rest of the morning with the girls until it’s time to leave. After Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle leave, you help Apple Bloom straighten up the clubhouse. As you are putting the chairs away, the red head turns to you and frowns.

“Gabby, you don’t really believe that there’s some kinda floozy conspiracy, do you?” When you don’t respond, she sighs and walks up beside you. “Listen, I realize sometimes things don’t make sense, but you can’t always go looking for a way to connect the dots. I mean, fashion trends change all the time. Sometimes people wear really silly stuff they regret later. Just, I don’t want you to get so wrapped up in making a mountain out of a molehill, alright?”

“I guess,” you mumble, a little put off that the only one who believes you is Scootaloo. Maybe AB and Sweetie have a point. Are you just jumping at shadows after all?

But, even if it is just your imagination, a part of you still wants to follow this lead. Or any lead. You did pick up a few more after all.

>Discovery
>[**---]
>Once you have some leads, you’ve got to investigate!

You hope Gilda comes by soon, you’ve got an itch that needs to be scratched, and the only solution is

>A. A trip back to the mall. Cosmetics, ho!
>B. Check out Gimmie More’s store for odds and ends
>C. It might be dangerous, but you want to research this ‘secret club’
>D. You’re pretty sure Gilda learned something, maybe you should compare notes? [Free Action/Accompany Gilda]



This has to be the longest, most boring wait ever. You drum your fingers against the table, watching as Rainbow Dash makes her way towards the front of the line. Every so often, she chances a look back at you, and every time she looks, you feel your stomach twist tighter. She trusts you to behave yourself, that’s clear, but only just. And here you are without a clue as to why.

“Um, sorry, Gilda,” Fluttershy begins, drawing your eyes back to her. “Rainbow knows I’m not very good with new people, so it’s hard for me to start a conversation.”

“Relax, I’m not about to jump down your throat.” You rest your hand on your cheek, regarding her with a curious frown. “But you and I apparently aren’t strangers. I can for the life of me remember where we met.”

Gripping the hem of her sweater, Fluttershy looks down towards her feet. “It was, a regional track event, in junior high. I was there, with Dash? And, she beat you. And you shouted at me to, um, ‘eff off, dweeb’ when I ran up to her afterwards and bumped into you.”

The seconds tick by as you stare at the pink-haired girl. Her gaze darts between the floor and your face, unable to look you in the eye for more than a moment at a time. You break the silence with a simple, “That’s it?”

“…It was very traumatizing.”

“I’ll bet.” You feel a small tug at the corner of your lips as you poke at the apparently helpless girl. “You know you can say the word, we’re both adults here.”

Fluttershy shakes her head again. “Oh no, that wouldn’t be polite. I would feel bad because of there being little ears around.”



She points to a young couple with their toddler a few tables down. A snort escapes from your nose even as you cough to cover it up. The break in your teasing is enough to bring a small smile to Fluttershy’s face. So you decide to close in.

“Okay, fine. But really, that’s what has you shaking like a leaf when you see me?”

“…Yes.”

“Then I bet those packs did something just as bad, huh?”

The pink-haired girl stiffens, her green eyes immediately going back to the floor. “Rainbow-”

“Rainbow isn’t here right now,” you say, your voice steady, even, and just a little tense. “It’s just you and me, Fluttershy. I know that you’ve seen something. Something I might have missed. Something you wanted to tell me earlier. I still want to know what it is.”

“It’s silly,” the slim girl whispers, tugging on her sweater. “I’m over thinking things.”

“Hey.” You reach out, pinching her cheeks between your thumb and forefinger and forcing her eyes to meet yours. “I’m telling you I want to hear what is on your mind. I don’t care that Dash thinks it’s silly. I want you to tell me.”

“A pack,” Fluttershy says, her voice even and calm, but you can feel her breathing hitch. “They go around together, teasing, bullying, all in order to find other girls who might be a good fit. And so the group grows bigger. I’m sure there’s more, but…”

Her voice trails off and you push for an answer. “They came after you?” Fluttershy nods. “Why?”

“That’s what they do. Maybe they thought I would be a good fit. Or a soft target.”

“Are you?”


Fluttershy meets your question with silence. But she glances over your shoulder in an obvious manner. You pull your hand away from her face a few seconds before Dash shows up with your drinks.

“Sorry about the wait, everything okay?”

“Great,” you respond.

“Everything’s okay,” the pink-haired girl echoes, giving you a meaningful look and a small smile that you return in kind. Maybe there’s more to Fluttershy than you originally thought.

The three of you spend most of the rest of the morning talking. Dash has taken a distinct interest in your new threads and is ribbing you for going shopping in such a girly store. Fluttershy seems a little cautious at the mention of Modern Gal, but is still engaging with you. If you really wanted, you could probably meet up with them again at the mall afterwards.

>A. Agree to meet with Rainbow and Fluttershy at Modern Gal
>B. Invite Fluttershy alone, to stop the girls from picking on her
>C. Invite Rainbow alone, she really needs something more than spats, skirts and tank tops.
>D. Spend the afternoon with Gabby [Support Gabby’s investigation]



You don’t waste any time jumping into Gilda’s car when it arrives.

“Hey Squirt,” your cousin says. “Just a heads up, I’m heading to the mall after dropping you off.”

“That’s fine, we’re headed to the same place,” you say with a smile. “I got a hot tip about the cosmetics store, ‘Bright Eyes’ from Sweetie Belle.”

“Ah, one of the places you forgot to tell me about last night?” A small bit of shame colors your cheeks, even as Gilda laughs it off. “Relax, dweeb. I’m not that mad about it. Besides, it gave me something to talk about today. And I got a tip you might be interested in too. Apparently one of Dash’s friends thinks that these girls roam around in packs, looking for other girls who might fit in.”

“That’s, a little bizarre,” you admit, looking out the window. “I mean, you and I, we saw two girls who seemed to be operating on their own. No packs.”

“Well, maybe there are different types?” your cousin shrugs. “Besides, blondie and that white-haired girl you described, they seemed to be more than just short-skirted girls.”

You nod in agreement, mulling that over. They aren’t the same, but maybe they’re related somehow? Apple Bloom’s warning to not go jumping at shadows is still ringing in your head, so you try not to make a connection where there doesn’t necessarily need to be one. Still, you have a few more points of interest to consider now.

>Current Impact
>[*****] (0>1)
>Of course girls who hang out together wear a similar style of clothing! That’s the nature of cliques. It’s just a phase.



After finding a parking spot at the mall, you split off from your cousin and head towards the cosmetics store. Sure enough, there’s a crowd of short-skirted girls milling around inside, checking different shades, trying on samples, and otherwise being well, girls. With your outfit, you blend in well enough to avoid their notice, although you do get a few looks and giggles. It isn’t embarrassing, but you feel a pleasant tingle running down from your spine between your legs every once in a while. You adjust the waist of your shorts again, feeling a slight bit chafing as the rough fabric brushes against your hips and thighs.

There really isn’t that much that stands out as far as being unusual, aside from the clientele. Aside from the make up. For some reason you can’t get enough of the darker, more metalic shades. They just seem so neat!

You’ve never been much of a makeup girl, but just being around it and listening to how excited some of the other girls are, you can almost understand why some people make as big a fuss about makeup as they do the clothes that they wear.

Wearing makeup is a way to look good; looking good means you feel good too. It’s a natural cycle. While the white-haired woman is still a mystery, you think you’ve got a better grasp of what she meant now.

>Fashion Conscious [Adept]
>Gabby’s understanding of style is growing steadily. Not only does she notice trends, but she can encourage others to try a small change to their style as well. Bonus to clothing-related events; advanced by engaging in activities centered on fashion.



You’re turning an earthy colored eye shadow kit over in your hands when a series of short chirps comes from your phone. Pulling it out, you see a string of messages from the other Crusaders. A chain that’s growing by the moment.

As you scroll up through the messages, you finally spot the source of the freak out. A picture of an enormous tan landscape. You consider the photo for a moment, cocking your head to the side. Then the realization hits.

Hurrying out of the store, you bring the phone to your ear. “Scootaloo, where are you?”

“I’m stuck right between FREAKING and OUT, Gabby! Where the hell do you think I am!?” The panicked girl’s screech is audible even as you hold the receiver away from your ear.

“Okay, just, come see me. I’m at the Canterlot City Mall. We’ll go to the store and figure this out.”

Scootaloo takes a deep breath on the other side, and then sighs. “Okay. Okay. Just, meet me towards the back side, okay? I really don’t want to be seen by anyone I know right now.”

You agree to meet her there in ten minutes. She hangs up with an all too quick goodbye. As you go to pocket your phone, you somehow miss your pocket and hear a clatter on the ground. Going to pick it up, realize it isn’t the phone that dropped.

It’s the make up kit that had been in your hand.

“Oh jeez and crackers,” you whisper to yourself, pocketing the kit and hurrying towards the back of the mall. This is not how you planned to spend your Saturday.

/End2/


>/Begin3/

Rainbow Dash gives you a wave as you approach Modern Gal. “Hey, G! Took you long enough. You’ve got me thinking that your car is showy, not speedy.”

“I haven’t had a reason to open her up yet,” you reply with a snort, glancing between Rainbow and Fluttershy. “So, why are you waiting out here?”

“I recognized one of the girls who works here,” Rainbow says, jerking her thumb towards the store. “Sour Sweet. She’s a real jerk, mean, pushy-”

Fluttershy nods her head and interrupts. “Very angry.” Turning towards you, the pink-haired girl gives you a worried frown. “Gilda, this isn’t really me ‘scene’, I don’t know if I should go in there.”

The awkward teen’s eyes dart around and you notice that several of the girls passing by do seem to be taking an interest in the CHS pair. Although you can’t quite see it as Fluttershy described, some of them do seem very focused on the girl going to great lengths to hide her body.

She’s feeling awkward, it’s understandable. So the first step is to get them through the door. You cross your arms under your chest and fix Fluttershy with a serious stare. “It’s like I said back at the coffee shop. If you want to shake those girls loose, even for a little while, a good place to start is by coming across as more confident. A change of clothes can do that.”

“And as for Sour Sweet,” your attention drifts over to Dash. “I handled her yesterday and I can handle her today. Just let me know if she tries to push either of you around.”



Rainbow doesn’t seem especially convinced, or maybe she just isn’t all that enthused about clothes shopping. Fluttershy however seems to take heart at your continued presence, and nods along with you. “Okay. W-well, here I go.”

“Hey, Shy, hold on!” Rainbow yelps, dragged along by the much more eager girl. It doesn’t take long before Fluttershy has started digging through the flirty, sometimes classless, clothing in earnest, with Rainbow trudging along beside her.

“Hey, stranger,” Sour Sweet strides up to the entrance of the store, biting her lip as she looks you up and down. “Oh yes, Tuff suits you just fine. But you’d make a great Chicy girl too, in my humble opinion.”

Giving a small snort in response, you flash her a bit of a grin. “I do look good, but just met you yesterday, and I can tell there’s nothing humble about you.”

“Humility isn’t a good fit for either of us.” Turning towards the two new girls, you can see a flash of a predatory smile on Sour Sweet’s lips. “But you came back with friends. Are you looking for anything in particular?”

“That sounds like a question you should be asking them, not me.”

“Maybe, but you’re the one who invited them to come out here rather than go anywhere else. So obviously you should have something in mind for both of them.” She pauses and raises an eyebrow. “Or am I wrong?”

The hair on the back of your neck starts to rise. Sour Sweet isn’t threatening you, she knows better than that. But something about the way she asked is rubbing you the wrong way. Did you really come out here with intentions for the two CHS students? And if so, who are you going to help?


You look at the pair and notice Dash is finally getting into the spirit of things, holding up a pair of snug looking spats. Fluttershy is giggling with a floral t-shirt in her own grip.

>Assist Fluttershy, let Sour Sweet help Rainbow
>Assist Rainbow, let Sour Sweet help Fluttershy

After deciding on who you should support, you tell Sour Sweet what you’re thinking as far as what might be fun for the girls to try.

>Dash
>A. She has her own tastes, let her decide IF she wants to buy anything
>B. Dash has similar tastes to you, maybe something Tuff would fit
>C. Try to draw out Dash’s feminine side with something Chicy
>D. While not branded there are some sporty outfits Dash might like
>E. Maybe she could try something a little more girly than usual

>Fluttershy
>F. Shy probably won’t buy anything if you let her decide, but maybe that’s okay
>G. Fluttershy wants to deal with bullies? She should try Tuff.
>H. Chicy probably suits Fluttersy’s attitude best, she just needs some confidence
>I. Blending in might help her, so just encourage her to try an outfit emphasizing a short-skirt, like her bullies

Further, neither girl would ever be caught dead in a Bargain Bim outfit, but you might be able to slip a piece or two into their changing pile. You know, just for teasing purposes.

>1. No, you wouldn’t be caught dead in those outfits either.
>2. Yes, but only Dash. She can take a joke.
>3. Yes, but only Fluttershy. Desire to bully too strong
>4. Yes, both. They can laugh about it together later.



“I’ll take care of the quiet one with the big sweater.” You indicate Fluttershy, then point to Dash. “But, for my friend over there, why don’t you just help her pick out something sporty. I don’t think she would buy anything else, but I’m sure you could still do some impressive work.”

“Of course,” Sour Sweet giggles. “Leave her to me.”

Starting to walk away, you feel a small twinge of deviousness as you look back and add, “You can have a little fun with her too. She’s a tough girl.”

The clerk’s eyes sparkle in excitement as you turn back to your new responsibility. You still feel a little awkward about this whole situation. Your chest feels tight like you’re about to do something you shouldn’t but the thrill is there all the same. Maybe you didn’t make the offer at the coffee shop intending to play dress up with Fluttershy, but right now there isn’t anything else you’d rather be doing.

As you approach her from behind, you grab a few different items off the rack from the Tuff collection. After all, she wanted to deal with bullies, and you’ve always found the direct approach to be most effective. If nothing else these clothes might cause them to give her a wider berth just from the surprise of the change.

“Hey,” you tap the petite girl on the shoulder. She turns and nearly gets a face full of boob.

“Ooh, sorry, that was close,” she giggles, then catches sight of the armful of clothes. You think you hear her breathing hitch again, and her big green eyes dance up towards you. A small, cautious smile begins to spread across her face. “Um, are you going to help me with my bully problem now?”

Your positive response makes her smile even wider. She takes your hand and pulls you into the changing room, leaving a confused Rainbow outside with a grinning Sour Sweet closing in.



Once the door latches, Fluttershy begins to pull off her clothes with a practiced smoothness. You aren’t sure where she got her experience, but it’s more methodical than sexual. Even still you avert your eyes. Mostly.

You made a few mistakes about the young woman’s figure under that frumpy sweater. She isn’t especially curvy, but she does have a very distinct figure. Her breasts, held up in a floral print bra, would be a small handful each, and her hips are only about even with her shoulders. But her waist is very impressive, small enough that your fingers might be able to touch if you held her there.

Fluttershy either doesn’t notice or doesn’t mind your staring, and is quick to start trying on the clothes you brought for her. She tends more towards skirts which probably fits her best, and her choice in tops always seems to be full length, which is a little disappointing. She has such a soft, pleasant figure and she keeps trying to cover it up.

By the time she’s trying on the coats, you finally realize something. You’re horny. Like, absurdly horny, to the point where you can feel yourself heating up and squeezing your thighs.

It’s not because of Fluttershy, although the constant bending and twisting isn’t helping. The feeling is just buzzing around in your head like a fly, perpetual, persistent, and irritating.


Fluttershy turns to you with a wide smile on her lips. “What do you think, do I still look like the kind of girl you would want to bully?”

Her coat is longer than her skirt, and she actually went with a sleeveless shirt this time around. Add in a pair of boots, and a physical training regimen, and she just might be intimidating.

“You look good. I might even give you a second look before deciding you’re a soft mark.”

“Oh, gosh, I guess I don’t really fit the part yet.” Fluttershy’s frown is quickly replaced by a small smile. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and wets her lips, giving you an intent look. “Maybe I could ask you for some more practical experience? You could teach me some ways to deal with a bully, right?”

You can feel a small flex in your hips as the quiet girl eyes you up, her smile not quite hungry, but curious. Wondering how you’ll react. Maybe this is her attempt at a defense to use against the girls at CHS. Or maybe she genuinely wants to know what you think. Or maybe, she’s noticed that your nipples are hard as rocks and you’ve been squeezing your thighs together for the better part of ten minutes.

>A. Just let Fluttershy develop her own techniques to deal with bullies
>B. Give her a crash course on the fine art of profanity.
>C. Teach her a little bit about intimidation. Presence is everything at her size
>D. Fluttershy’s issue is confidence. Teach her how to use that pretty body of hers.