Write It RIght - Wardrobe Malfunction: Rarity

Wardrobe Malfunction: Rarity

PROMPT:
> Rarity's thong snaps, causing her to have to go commando with a mini skirt the whole day at school.

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“Fluttershy, you are such a dear, but at times I simply cannot understand why you must be so difficult.”

Two girls stood aside their lockers, as opposite as could be. One clutched her books to her chest, her gaze fixed to the floor. Her shoulders were slumped, her knees knocking together. By all accounts she was as unassuming as a grain of sand on a beach. Beyond her long, flowing pink hair, there was not a single special thing about her. Her outfit was plain: a simple pair of jeans and a thick yellow sweater.

The girl standing beside her was remarkable in every sense of the word. She radiated confidence from every inch of her body. Her straight-backed, hip-cocked pose. Her artfully applied makeup brought out the natural glimmer of her eyes and enhanced the vibrant blush of her pale cheeks. Her lustrous purple hair was done up in a set of marvelous, full-bodied curls that bounced with every bob of her head. And, of course, her outfit put everyone else’s to shame.

Rarity could never stand to be taken lightly, and her wardrobe reflected it. Today her outfit was a positively eye-popping ensemble of baby blue and purple. She wore a sleeveless shirt of thin cotton, embroidered up and down its length with a painstakingly hand-stitched floral pattern that was thickest at the bottom, growing thinner as it reached her bust, and ending at a teasingly low but still tactful neckline. Her shoulders were covered only by a shrug vest of delicate purple cotton that came down to mid-back, barely longer than her curled hair.

If Rarity’s top was a taste of the art of the tease, then her skirt was a study in seduction. At first, it appeared to be as modest as any ordinary skirt, coming down to just above her knees. A second glance, however, and the skirt’s true nature was revealed. It was made of two layers: an outer one of thin, nearly-transparent chiffon, and an inner lining layer of softer polyester. The trick, of course, was that Rarity’s second, partially hidden layer only came halfway down her thighs. Every time she moved her statuesque legs, boys around her did double-takes, wondering if they could really see as much as they thought they had seen.

Rarity knew exactly what she was doing, and she loved every minute of it. Beauty was a virtue. Elegance was authority. Adoration was power. Rarity’s custom outfits mastered all three, and she loved nothing more than a new fashion project.

Fluttershy knew exactly what Rarity was doing, too. And she was very, very nervous about it.

“I… um… I just don’t think I’d be a good fit for your clothes, Rarity.” Fluttershy turned her head to one side, doing her best to let her long bangs cover her face. If Rarity couldn’t see her, she’d be invisible. Hopefully.

“Nonsense, dear. You’d look positively gorgeous. Why, I have just the thing for you sitting on the loom in home economics. You simply must come by and let me make a few adjustments. It won’t take but a minute!”

“I… I have to get to the animal clinic,” Fluttershy mumbled.

“Oh, are you worried about the sick bear that came in the other day?” Rarity smiled. “Applejack said she’d be taking care of him today. I simply won’t take no for an answer! We simply must get you out of those frumpy clothes and into something more flattering for your figure!”

“Um…” Fluttershy shuffled her feet. She was trapped. “I…”

“What she means to say is that she doesn’t want to play dress-up, Rarity. So buzz off and stop asking.”

Rarity gave an only half-exaggerated sigh. She turned around to face the rail-thin, pint-sized powerhouse of the track and field team. She’d been so close to getting Fluttershy to cave. So very, very close- how dare Rainbow Dash have such horrid timing?

“Hmf. Good morning to you, too, Rainbow Dash.” She wouldn’t get another chance when this pest was around. Especially a pest with such horrid fashion sense. Honestly. Spandex shorts? In class? Rarity could even see a set of tell-tale panty lines on Dash’s most unflatteringly flat rear end. There truly was no hope for her figure, her fashion sense or her manners.

“What’s so good about it?” Dash asked, stepping right between Rarity and Fluttershy. “Looks like you didn’t get the hint a few days ago. Stop trying to make ‘Shy into your own little girly girl.”

Dash was so close to Rarity that she could smell the horrid reek of Dash’s sweat. Did she not even have the sense to clean herself properly after P.E.? She stuttered backwards a few steps on pure instinct.

“How rude!” Rarity said. “Rainbow Dash, I am just trying to be friendly.”

“Sheah. Right.” Dash looked back to the girl behind her. “Hey Fluttershy, do you think you’d like it if Rarity made you run around half-naked? Made you wear skirts that came up to here?” She pointed at Rarity’s half-naked thighs, barely visible under her gauzy outer skirt. “Or shirts that came down to here?” She pointed at Rarity’s appreciable and wholly tactful cleavage, enhanced by a simple gem on a chain necklace that rested between her breasts.

“Um… I don’t really think I’d like that.” Fluttershy glanced at Rarity’s cleavage and bit her lip.

“See? She’s not interested.”

Rarity had had enough. “Rainbow Dash, you do not understand the first thing about fashion!” she seethed. “How dare you criticize my outfit, when you yourself are running around showing off the cut of your panties?! It’s positively unladylike, and I will not stand for it!“

Dash glanced over her shoulder. For one slight moment, she opened her mouth and hesitated- but then she looked back at Rarity, pushing those thoughts from her mind. “Yeah? You’d have me running around with one of those thongs, wouldn’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, it would certainly help eliminate those unsightly lines. There are some styles that allow-“

“I knew it!” Dash burst out. “Fluttershy, she wants both of us to wear butt floss!”

“Oh… my.” Fluttershy blushed.

“It is most certainly NOT bu- ahem, that. It’s actually quite comfortable once-“

“Butt floss!” Dash said, reaching up and poking Rarity on the nose. Fluttershy giggled.

“Would you please just listen?!” Rarity said, looking up at the ceiling in exasperation. “I am trying to educate you on the more delicate aspects of a lady’s outfit and you just keep interr-“

Like the clouds parting in a thunderdome match, Dash saw her opening. She struck with all the precision of an athlete in her prime.

Her target? The tiny strip of white elastic peeking out over the top of Rarity’s skirt.

“Butt floss attack! Cavities beware!”

Rarity shrieked as Rainbow Dash seized ahold of the thin strap of her underwear, pulling it up and out of her skirt. Dash tugged so hard on the line of white elastic that bits of her precious, carefully stitched thong rose up her body with it. A moment later and Rarity felt the sharp, stinging pain of her thong digging into her softest, most sensitive places. Even worse, Dash had tugged so hard that the white triangle of the back of her thong had popped out to say hello, flashing the classmates behind her with a clear view of her silken delicates.

“RAINBOW DASH! STOP!” Rarity shouted at the top of her lungs. Her hands instinctively flew to her crotch, trying desperately to relieve the pain between her legs. It did nothing but allow Dash to tug even harder.

Almost imperceptibly in the noise of Rarity’s shrieking, Dash’s laughter, and the surprised gasps of the crowd around them, there was the delicate ripping of silk stitching on one side of Rarity’s thong.

“Gotcha good! Hah!” Dash said, finally releasing Rarity from the turbo-wedgie. “Bet you don’t feel so smart about wearing that now, do you?”

Rarity flushed a fierce red, blushing even deeper than Fluttershy. She quickly stuffed the back of her thong back into the waistband of her skirt, but the rest of the silk undergarment was wedged in places no lady should have to think about in a school hallway.

“Rainbow Dash, I’m going to get you for this!” she swore.

“Go ahead! You know where to find me!” Dash laughed, taking Fluttershy by the arm and leading her away. “I bet it’ll be fun! For me, anyway!”

Rarity could only seethe and try to ignore her poor, aching privates. Of course, if she’d known the full extent of what Dash had done to her underwear, she might have done a little more…


Today was the day. It had finally happened: The day the teacher said those four magical words.

“Anon, you’re with Rarity.”

Student leadership class was a pretty pointless class overall. Mostly, it was just making sure posters got put up and planning silly events that maybe a couple dozen people took part in. Still, it was a requirement to be part of the student government, and that in turn was a requirement to look good for Princess Celestia’s Royal Guard. You’ve had your eye on the Guard since you were young, and with your grades, sports and knack for numbers, you’re a shoo-in for the Cadets. The only thing left to do was wait and keep an eye on the mail.

Well. There were a few other things to keep an eye on, too.

Rarity was a goddess, plain and simple. In your school Canterlot Academy, an already selective school for already gifted people, she stood out like a diamond in a pan of coal. How many students could say they had their own signature style? Their own web site? Their own fashion label? (Granted, Rarity’s was self-published and in incredibly small numbers, but she brushed it off as beside the point).

Being partnered up with the radiant beauty was one of the perks of the class- and the best part of it was that Rarity was a shameless self-promoted. She loved it when guys stared at her. Hell, she probably took it as a compliment. And there was so much to stare at! Her tantalizing white cleavage, her softly curving legs, her daring outfits that pushed the boundary between inviting and reserved.

Today is no different: her purple double-layered skirt and baby blue top draw the eye to all her best assets, while her shrug vest protects her from showing too much skin and risking the wrath of the dreaded dress code.

“You heard the teacher, Anon,” Rarity says. “Would you be a dear and get me those mannequins? These mascot mock-ups aren’t going to make themselves.”

Rarity magically pieces together the mascot costumes with the practiced speed and efficiency of a seamstress. You can’t help but stare at glowing the blue sapphire necklace that she’s using as a focus for the spell. The glowing gem dangling between her breasts highlights the soft skin around it, threatening to make the white shirt around it go transparent- but Rarity is too smart for that, and she’s picked a shirt that’s just thick enough to keep her bra concealed. Her outfits are all carefully calculated to never show an inch of anything untoward… at least when she’s not flustered or distracted.

You’ve heard the boys talk about the glimpses they’ve gotten of Rarity’s unmentionables. Peeks of elaborate, lacy bras when she leans too far forward. Flashes of silk panties when she bends to pick up her bag. One person even claimed to have seen her Cutie Mark, a girl’s most personal treasure. You know it’s all lies. You’ve probably spent more time in classes with Rarity than any other guy, and she’s always been on her guard. You’ve never seen so much as a peek of anything risqué.

Until today, that is.

As Rarity works her magic on the mannequins, you see that she’s uncharacteristically nervous. She glances left and right every so often. When she sees you close by, she stops and tries to continue working, but it’s obvious she’s uncomfortable with something.

You decide to give her some space and see what happens. “Hey, Rarity, I’m gonna go get some more pink thread. Looks like you’re running low.”

“Oh! Thank you, Anon.” Rarity gives you a nervous smile.

You head across the classroom and busy yourself with the godawful mess of sewing kits, but keep your eyes surreptitiously fixed on Rarity. What you see shocks you.

Rarity reaches back to her slim ass and scratches herself. Vigorously. She picks at her skirt, digging at whatever lies underneath, as if desperate to fix something wedged between her cheeks. It’s the most unladylike thing you’ve ever seen her do, and it’s certainly never something she’d do in class unless it was an emergency.

Rarity glances around again, checking to see if anyone has noticed her spelunking expedition. You keep your head buried in the sewing kit. Believing that she’s still undetected, Rarity does the unthinkable: she reaches back, pulls the elastic waistband of her skirt out, and reaches down into it. You can see her hands moving under the soft fabric of her skirt as she runs her finger down her butt crack and pulls the offending underwear back to a more comfortable position. As she fixes her underwear, she presses it against her skirt, allowing you to clearly see the thin outline of a skimpy thong.

Rarity’s face is flushed from having to fix herself in class, but luckily no one’s noticed but you. She quickly puts her skirt back in order and resumes tailoring the mascot.

You can’t help but grin. That’s definitely the first time the classy Rarity’s done something so bold, so crude, in the middle of a class- and you’re the first to see it. With a new spring in your step, you head back to the table and help Rarity finish the mock-up costume.

“Ahem… Good work, Anon,” Rarity says, though she still sounds somewhat distracted. “Let’s just get this to the commons and be done with it. I need to… deal with something.”

You nod and try to keep the grin from your face. You both lay the mannequin down and grab it: you at the base, Rarity at the head. As Rarity squats down to pick up her end, you try to sneak a peek between her legs, but they’re clenched tight. Of course.

The trip to the commons is slow going. The mannequin is heavy, especially dressed up as it is. Thankfully the hallways are empty. Trying to dodge classmates with it would be a nightmare, especially on the stairwell. On that note…

You try to get the mannequin halfway up the stairs, but it gets wedged in the tight bend where the staircase turns around. Rarity, being the one stuck at the bottom, isn’t amused.

“Come on, Anon. Get down here and push like a big, strong man.”

She’s playing you, but you don’t mind. You squeeze around the stuck mannequin and get right next to Rarity to help her push. Her perfume washes over you as the sweet smell of lilacs and berries. Both you and Rarity push as hard as you can, but the mannequin is wedged tight.

“Push harder!” Rarity says, irritation in her voice. She redoubles her own efforts- and her grip slips, sending her off-balance into the Mannequin’s waiting embrace. One of its arms slips around her waist and its thumb catches on the delicate chiffon of her skirt’s outer layer. Rarity doesn’t notice the catch. She stumbles a few inches backwards to catch her footing, unaware of the fact that the mannequin is tugging her skirt ever so slightly downward.


You push harder. The mannequin nudges just a few inches, and Rarity’s skirt moves with it. You can see more and more pale white skin of her lower back as her skirt peels downwards, until finally a delicate band of white silk appears. You’re staring right at the top Rarity’s underwear, the most sought-after sight on campus!

Both you and Rarity continue to push. You’re torn: you could push harder and try to pull Rarity’s skirt down even further, or push slowly and get to look for as long as you can.

What kind of choice is that? Go big or go home.

You shove as hard as you can. The mannequin pops free, tugging Rarity’s skirt with it. She shrieks in surprise and embarrassment as her skirt plunges to the floor, baring it all. The white triangle of her thong doesn’t even begin to cover her beautiful behind, and you’ve got a front-row seat.

Rarity’s ass is as beautiful as you imagined it. Smooth, white and flawless. Her cheeks are delicately curved, with just enough jiggle to catch the eye. Her hands fly from the mannequin to her fallen skirt. Rarity drops to a crouch, desperate to retrieve her skirt.

And then something wonderful happened.

As you drink in the sight of Rarity’s nearly bare ass, you see that the left strap of Rarity’s thong is frayed. It’s barely holding on to the silk back of her underwear. In fact, the stitching is undoing itself right before your eyes. Rarity’s sudden crouch causes one stitch to pop, then another. As she tugs her skirt up her legs, the final stich tears free.

Half the waistband of Rarity’s thong snaps in a glorious release of tension. Her thong flops a few inches down her ass, becoming a sorry tail of silk more than anything else. You can’t see Rarity’s front, but you can tell that her underwear is threatening to slide down.

The mannequin crashes down to the stairwell. Time resumes.

Rarity tugs her skirt back up, wearing a luminescent blush that was definitely not all makeup. Despite her exposure, she is surprisingly calm. Composed. In control. At least, that’s what she wants to believe.

“A-A-Anon,” Rarity says, clearing her throat. “Let’s finish this quickly. Very quickly. All right?”

You don’t believe it. Rarity wants to keep on carrying the mannequin to the commons? After her panties broke? After all that’s keeping them from falling down is half a waistband, clenched thighs and Celesita’s grace? Well, you’re not going to complain.


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You and Rarity soldier on carrying the heavy mascot mannequin. Now that you’ve crested the stairwell, it should be smooth sailing to the common area.

Rarity’s becoming more a hindrance than a help, though. She’s shuffling along and trying to keep her thighs tight together. It’s obvious why; if she doesn’t, her busted panties might say hello to the forces of gravity.

But why? Why does Rarity not disappear to the ladies’ room? It’s not like you’re forcing her to stay here. She could take off her panties and not have to deal with the awkward shuffling she’s going through right now. So why…

And then it hits you.

Rarity can’t admit that her handiwork has failed her. Everything she’s ever done has been to build her reputation as the finest couturière in Canterlot Academy. Taking her broken clothes off would be admitting defeat. It would be a humiliation she could never live down, especially if she had to excuse herself in front of you to do it. So she presses on and pretends that everything is fine. After all, she’s the best seamstress, dressmaker, and designer there is. Why should she be worried about a few popped stitches? That happens all the time.

She could even shrug off the fact that her skirt fell down right in front of you. After all, no gentleman would look at a lady in a state of undress. She hadn’t caught you staring at her exposed goodies, either; you had made sure to block her view with a part of the bulky mannequin. For all she knew, you had no idea what had happened in the stairwell.

Progress is slow. Rarity’s pace is positively glacial. She’s frowning ever so slightly, her eyes darting down to her purple skirt every few seconds out of pure reflex. She’s trying to be brave and ignore what’s going on, but there’s no stopping the inevitable.

You hazard a glance at Rarity’s legs. The nearly sheer layer of purple chiffon doesn’t show anything but her pale legs and tantalizingly short lining layer, but you know that patience is a virtue. Rarity can’t move her hands from the mannequin, so she hasn’t been able to hike up her broken panties. It’s only a matter of time now.

“We’re almost there, Rarity,” you say. If you can keep her focused on the destination, she’ll be more likely to hold her nerve and keep going. “Just a little more.”

“Right. Of course. Nearly done! Perfect!” Rarity gives you a smile that’s far, far too wide to be anything but fake. She quickens her pace in anticipation. Just a little… but just enough.

A glimmer of white silk slides out from beneath her skirt. Barely concealed by purple chiffon, the snapped string of her thong’s waistband is staring right at you from between Rarity’s thighs. Rarity takes another step. Her panties slide another few inches. The string lengthens.

Another step. More white silk slides out from beneath her skirt. This time it’s the front of her panties: you can see the soft, delicate silk that until now has been in direct contact with her mound. Another step. Her panties are halfway down her thighs now, and you can see the beginnings of the soft cotton of the thong’s gusset.

Rarity skids to a halt. She can feel the tickle of her panties sliding down her thighs. She knows something’s wrong.

There’s only one thing to do: go big or go home.

You tug on the mannequin. Hard. Rarity’s forced to keep her grip on it, or else she’ll drop its feet right on her toes. She lunges to keep up, and the sudden motion finishes what you started on the stairwell.

Rarity’s panties can hold on no more. The white silk fliess down her right leg as fast as gravity can carry it, catching on Rarity’s shoe. Desperate not to drop the mannequin and waste days of work, Rarity kicks her foot back for balance- and she unknowingly launches her panties high in the air.

The sight is marvelous. Pure, soft silk soaring through the sky. Rarity’s thong is so thin, so insubstantial, it might as well be a cloud. For one sweet moment you can see the front of her panties. Every inch of it bears Rarity’s handiwork. It’s obvious she’s spend hours embroidering the beautiful patterns into the silk, but that’s not what takes your breath away. No, that honor goes to the brilliant blue sapphires sewn all across the top. They’re of the highest quality, not like the common dime-a-dozen sidewalk stones you could find on your way to school. They’re the real deal.

Rarity’s panties flutter down to earth just as gracefully as you’d expect anything Rarity made to do. Blessedly, they land behind a trophy cabinet. Rarity- and no one else, either- has no idea where her panties could have gotten to.

“Sorry,” you say, giving Rarity a sheepish smile. “You okay? You look a little flustered.”

Rarity’s normally calm, composed expression has turned to one of utter confusion. One moment she was struggling to keep her panties up. The next, they had completely vanished! She looked to the left, the right, up, down, everywhere; where had they gone? They couldn’t have disappeared. She had to find them! They were valuable! They were one-of-a-kind! They were HERS!

“I’m fine. Fine! Completely fine!” Rarity gives you another fake smile. “Oh, look! Here’s the spot! Let’s just drop it here!”

“Sounds good,” you say. “Just set it down gently!”

You’ve got one last trick up your sleeve. If Rarity’s not wearing any panties- and you’re one hundred percent sure that’s the case- then you have to try this. Rarity has the feet of the mannequin- and she hasn’t realized what that means.

The both of you begin changing the mannequin from a horizontal carry to a vertical set-down. “Gently! Be careful!” you remind Rarity. She’s still flustered and eager to get this over with, so she does exactly as you say… which means she’s responsible for lowering the feet. For Rarity, that means getting low to the ground.

Rarity’s eyes go wide as she realizes going to have to squat down.

She struggles to find a way- any way- to gently set the heavy body down, but there’s only one. She has to squat down, and since her arms aren’t long enough to grip the heavy body from a distance, she has to commit the cardinal sin of skirt fashion, right across from a boy.

Rarity takes a deep breath, squats down and spreads her legs.

She prays you don’t notice, but it’s impossible not to. As she sets the feet down on the ground, you have a completely unobstructed view up both layers of her skirt. For the briefest of moments, the sunlight shines between her legs, and you can see everything. Miles of pale white skin. Firm, soft thighs. And at their apex, clean-shaven pink lips. Rarity’s pussy, bared just for you.

But that’s not all.

As your gaze sweeps up her skirt, you catch a glimpse of something blue. Right above her pussy, on the white skin that would normally be covered by her underwear, is the tell-tale glimmer of her Cutie Mark: three blue diamonds, each as brilliant as real gems.

You’re the first to glimpse everything Rarity has. You’ve seen all her most personal, private secrets, even her mark. No wonder she loves gems so much. She’d die of humiliation if it got out that every time she wore a sapphire, it was as if she were baring her Mark to the world.

Her legs snap shut and the moment is over.

“I- I have to go,” Rarity says hurriedly. “I have… something to fix.”

And with that, she practically dashes across the commons, not even bothering to look for her lost panties. Her skirt flutters behind her, flashing dangerous amounts of skin.

You take the time to appreciate the moment, but there’s one thing you have to do. Before anyone else shows up, you rush over to the trophy case and fish around behind it. Just as expected, Rarity’s discarded panties are lying right behind it. They’re just as soft and silky smooth as you dreamed. And, of course, the gems inlaid on the front of the thong are as sparkly and brilliant as they were a minute ago.

You quickly pocket Rarity’s delicates. You’re doing her a favor, really. Better you than some random janitor!

-END

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