~ IV ~
Dressing a Building
Celestia sauntered onto the port without being mindful. Her hooves crunched into the asphalt, water dowsing from them, currents sweeping away the mess. Countless had gathered at the block of the dock. It was big enough to house her.
“Celestia!”
That voice caught her as its whisper blew through a megaphone. In looking down to the side of her hoof, there parked a cart, the ceiling missing, revealing the colt inside. Though he was no more than a blur, in pulling away from the megaphone for a second, his smile could still be felt through the blotch of colours. “My boys did the best they could to clear the space. Still a few oddities left however. Say... you said all this is protected in that grand treasury of yours?”
Celestia tilted her head and watched as the shadow shifted over the lot below. “Personal treasury in this sense. So the least expensive mayhem is preferable.”
“Then I think I got just the right business proposition for ya!” The stallion pointed forward to the ground, and her gaze followed over it, boxes and containers, busted machinery and such composing the block. “Nothing but junk we got left here. And we've got to dress you up nice and pretty once you dry off. All that sound right?”
“Not a word you got wrong.”
“So how's about really cutting loose on your day off?” Celestia looked down to see that cart, as well as the many around it, kicking it into gear. Small yellow boxes drove out and around her legs, which she stumbled around, catching view of all the pests beneath her. “Now tell me!”
Celestia froze with a foreleg raised from the floor, forced to look far left, seeing all the racers, in a line, blasting away. That colt turned in his seat, using his legs to steer the wheel, all while he leaned on the back of the forklift's top. “When's the last time you shook yourself dry like a wet puppy?”
She blinked. Looking to see everyone leaving the scene. Her smile grew naturally as water still flushed from her limbs. In stepping into the middle of it all, she bent all four legs and, unable to repress her happiness—shook and twisted and shifted like an animal caught in the intensity of drying herself.
Celestia felt it. The whips of her mane shooting all over the place. Breaking into containers and launching them flying over the water. The vibrations from the motions crumbling through the ground. Blotches of water shot afar and crashed beyond the crew.
How did it look to them? That was a wonder in closing her eyes. Towering and consuming the port all to wag like a dog in the sun. It was seconds before her ears flicked up. Mirth dressed through her. Fluff... puffier. Mane a little dryer on resting on her neck.
Celestia finished moments after that. Her eyes opened in getting her jitters out. She looked at the line of the crew all standing in amazement of the act. The colt, of course, was first to break from his stance. Walking forward as his coat whipped back. The air smelled like wet and bathed Celestia.
“Feeling better?”
Her head had been lowered to the ground. There the stallion stood in better quality. She smiled at him. “I think I may have developed an appreciation for how you do things.”
He winked. “Mighty glad to hear that. But all that shaking ain't enough to get the job done.” Then smirked. “Mind lying on your side?”
It was much like tucking herself inside a box a little too small for her size. Luna used to do it all the time when she was younger. Some boxes or crates. Anything from a delivery. She'd go inside, to sleep or to play, crafting a fort inside of the thing. Sometimes Celestia would join her, barely, and other times she lifted the box and messed around with the one inside.
Treasured memories.
Celestia laid on her side, aware of how the underside of her barrel consumed the ground, stretching out onto the dock. The ends of her hooves pushed on containers and slid them away. It reminded her of being tucked into bed, sleepily, and kicking the little items on the end of the mattress.
She was aware of those in the yard. How the ends of her legs stacked on each other, presenting, of course, the powerful view requiring a craned neck to see. Her rump. Bibulous in their creamy texture warmed by the sunlight. Fat to every positive connotation possible. Part of her wanted to face the waters instead. Give the passing sailors a sight to see.
But the ones dressing her deserved the treatment more.
At her side arrived a group of little ponies. Each walking backward as the wall of her chest covered them in shade. She became mindful of that. How much it sucked in and puffed out. Fluff expanded greater than she thought. It was a line of pegasi with Celestia's earth pony in the middle.
“Alright bring it in! Highest setting! Try to clear her flanks!”
Castaway glanced up at her from the port. “No offence.”
“Matters of the magnitude of my derriere I take as compliments.” Celestia smiled at him before she was struck into a yelp. Her head swung and hair flew in seeing the steel pushing into her booty. “O-Oh dear.” She inched high to see the ponies rocked on the large, dockside, gantry crane below. “Is everypony alright?”
“Nothing these slackers ain't used to.” The little stallion raised his megaphone to those on the platform of the dock. “Now I know that thing can go another twenty feet in the air. We ain't strapped for time anymore. Stop trying to rear-end her rear end!”
He turned back to her. “No offence.”
“Yet another compliment.”
Soon the gantry crane ascended a little higher, enough to pass over the swells of her rump, a fabric caught in all the hanging cranes. It bore a large towel. It passed over her legs first. Up and over the curve of her bottom. It reached across her barrel until dropping at her neck.
There'd been bickering below. Voices that were nothing more but annoying sounds. Long lines of ponies stacked across the edge of the dock in preparation for the next order. Closer to the mare, though, was a group complaining.
“Called on for my day off for this.” The poor stallion wasn't aware of the muzzle settling behind him. Its immensity unseen as he continued to blather on. “This is ridiculous. Couldn't she use her magic—much less her own hooves—to do all this?”
Her smirk must have looked like a shark to them. The stallions gathered in front of him froze. Swallowing and trying to point. The troublemaker turned and was still after doing so. Frozen by the immensity that was the face of the princess. Her eyes lifted in catching his reflection. How cutely he backed away from her snout. “But where would be the fun in that? Today is my day off as well. And a big gal like me is looking to be pampered.”
The stallion went to say more until a foreleg was thrown over his shoulders. Castaway tucked him to his side as the two strolled away. Celestia pulled away a little, but still watched from above, amused with it all.
“Now son... I've got a bit of a bone to pick with you... and if it weren't for the massive lady—“ the stallion twisted and shouted up to her “—in all the right places of course!—“ he turned back to the stallion in continuing their stroll “—then I would have more to pick with you. Now about that summons. You had a choice to show up for double the pay. You did. But if the work doesn't quite suit you, well, you can always leave and take what you got for showin' up.”
“But—“
“But nothin'!” Castaway pushed the boy forward as the other stumbled and turned around. “Now you can get back in line or you can get your rump home! Everyone! May I have the privilege to introduce you to the great, not a princess for the day, Celestia lacking a last name!”
Celestia loved this. Nothing but a mostly white background. Wide and tall in a smooth slope of fluffiness closer to her front. She could feel the eyes of the groups. Some to how the towel hugged the curves of the posterior. Others to the tuft peeking out near its end. Some were amazed by her face. The casual beauty accompanied by an expression of confidence.
“Lacking,” she started from high behind, “until I take it from the right stallion... or mare.”
“And there you have it fellas! Our chances are now nigh on done.”
Celestia blushed.
“But that doesn't mean we don't get a sacred privilege out of this!” The little stallion turned to the mass of a mare in a gesture to Celestia's totality. “She here needs proper drying before we get her into her uniform! Sure those of you in the mane business know how it works with hair. Scrub it to ruin it. Pat it for care for it.”
Castaway turned around. “Y'know still sure about this ya highness?”
“Told you—“
“‘cause of high up you are.”
“Puns are my business!” Celestia's head shot up and turned left with the visible eye closed. She would have crossed her wings in mock offence if she could. “Now you and your workers will have to work extra well to get me dry.”
Castaway sighed. “Always knew it was my business in getting a mare dry instead of wet.”
Explosions burst through the princess's lips at the joke. Red coloured her cheeks. Mirth tickled beneath her coat. With a laugh was how her head curved to the ground, her forehooves there first, laid over the other. Resting on them, she exhaled, the warm breeze blowing his coat. “Keep up this teasing and I'll tuck you into a place that will be pleasing.”
“Make sure to tuck some moisturizer with me.”
“I don't think I'm the mare your usual troubles will apply to.”
“The one for me is out of my reach in every regard possible?” He chuckled with a wag of his head. “Ain't fate divine.”
Celestia rolled her eyes. “Oh hush.”
It wasn't long before orders had been decked out. Celestia laid on the tops of her forehooves in watching the workflow that was typical of the shipping yard. Pegasus tucked a pony into the bottom of their barrels, the tiny swarm flying over the ascent of the princess's barrel, landing on the sloped field there.
On the crane above worked the unions. Ropes tied around the railings of the machinery, across it, before their lengths were thrown over. Some awaited at the base of the belly. On the ropes pooling on the ground, they grabbed it, climbing up the bottom curve of the tummy, their tickles borne everywhere.
“Mmhmm... I must say... that... having the world... work on you... is a nice change of pace.” Celestia blew out a blissful sigh in feeling the work across her; there'd been a collection of ponies on her side, all of them leaping on the towel, all to dry the coat underneath. “Oh yes. Being pampered suits me far better.”
“Nothing beats sunbathing in a towel.”
Celestia opened her eyes to the tiny group before her muzzle. Forklifts bumbled past behind them and parked at their sides. Their drivers stood out, a crowbar to open the crates, nothing but ropes underneath. They stepped away as the pegasus stepped in.
“Any problems so far Celes?”
“Not a complaint.” A sleepy yawn slipped through her lips. Her chin above those gathered below. It made the view cute. “Only those drying my rump are very passionate about their work.”
Many there stood on the squishy edge. Rope tied around their waist and looking down the plump swells below. All rappelled down, one after the other, legs pushing into the towel, sinking easily to the squish behind it, the voluminous texture stretching the article by a little.
After sinking as much as they could, the tush pushed out in those impressions across it, repelling the ponies into the air. They were pushed out further into the air. The enormity of the booty filled their vision as they swung away. Until, of course, they flew back into it.
They came hard into it sometimes. Little pelts to jiggle the cheek. Sinking deeper and pushed out harder. This increased as the swell became thicker in its descent. Firmness so taut as only those with great momentum could press an inch into the round surface.
A lot of them bounced in place, the brave ones descending the deepest between the cheeks, some wanting to get lost in the valley between. Celestia's body was drying at least. The hundred peltings and tickling and rubbing across her monolithic frame was appreciated. “But nothing I'm not enjoying.”
“Mighty happy to hear that.” Castaway stood before her with a nudge to the lined pegasi. “Going to have my boys here rope your neck down a bit. Now nothin' tight! Just for them to be able to climb around it and scrub.”
“So long as you help with my muzzle—I don't see much of a problem with that at all.”
“Heh! Knew I'd get roped in somehow.”
“At least you're not being roped down.”
“True say.”
The ropes were thrown over the slope of Celestia's neck, each a great many feet apart, tied to a lock on the other side. The pressure lax into her neck to the point of being hardly noticeable. Many disappeared into her mane. Caught inside the world of hair. Each working on the vines from inside.
Celestia took a moment to enjoy it all. Workers rappelling down her ass and bouncing on it for the sake of drying it. The same to those across her side. Some hopping and others on their knees working into the coat on the other side. There'd come a carriage after a while, turning to her with a ramp at its back, a flooding of mares and stallions, manes glossed and vests worn, stylists from all around.
Each of them swarmed around the mane pooled on the ground, four forklifts, two on either side, facing each other. The first two drove their prongs underneath the hair to raise it. The other two, holding the ends of a long brush, lowered it into the mane. In a formation, all drove, brushing it all.
Much more activity occurred out on the dock. But it was all blurs to the mare. Rather Celestia focused on the stallion climbing the side of her muzzle, kicking above her lips—having hoisted himself on their corner. With a roll of her eyes, she smiled, carrying him as they bunched, all the way to the edge of her muzzle.
From there he worked. And she watched. Tilted her muzzle a little to keep him on his hooves.
It didn't take long for the job to get done. It was a mixture between the effort of the workers and the incessant sunlight. Most rappelled off her body and more cranes had been rolled onto the scene. Few ponies, though, going down her rump—had slipped into the crevice between her flanks.
And it took a lot of wiggling to get them out.
“And done!” Castaway stumbled back on her muzzle with a rag in his teeth. He turned back to the massive eyes behind. “Gotta say. Never expected this place to become a Giant Mare Cart Wash today. But certainly... a new business I'll have to look into.”
“Indeed you may,” Celestia replied, “if today remains as joyous as it has.”
“Only bound to get better from here.” Castaway cocked an eyebrow. “Say? You mind planting that snout of yours into the ground? Wanna see how this muzzle of yours acts like a slide.”
“You're a colt.”
“And you're nothin' more than a gigantic filly!”
“But in all the right places?”
“In all the right places.”
Celestia didn't fight in tilting her muzzle to the ground. Slope of her snout arched and, at once, the boy slid down it. Snowy coat, smooth enough, for him to slide in standing up. He lunged at the end, flying a few, rolling on hitting the ground, bouncing up, stumbling across the ground in catching himself.
He breathed heavily in turning to face her. “This world is gonna cry if you finally get married.”
“I wouldn't ruin anyone's dreams like that.”
Castaway smirked with a nod. “Atta girl.”
The next stage of being dressed was a little bit more complex. The waters splashing onto the port were the backdrop of the late-morning. Celestia had risen a little, stretching the cables across her neck, without realizing, until they snapped violently to whip in the air.
Across the length of her barrel and over the swell of her rump, a stacking of containers had been present, heaps of fabric stacked to the sides, in a formation, a skirt, when unfolded, able to cover a golf course.
With naval panties next to it.
Stallions and mares dared around the articles. Looking over the expanse of their tops, some peeking their heads through the holes, seeing the thin, dim, silky field inside. Would any of them crawl inside? Explore and check around? Or maybe hide for the moment they were tried on?
Would they shuffle more to the front or rest in the broadness of the back?
It was sprawling out of the hanger where the socks were laid. The gantry crane dropped its beams over their fronts. Ponies below clipped the ends into the roundness of the article. From there the gantry drove forward, toward the giant mare, pulling the socks across her hind legs.
The work had doubled as its flow reached intensity. Pairs of pegasi flew with brushes and buzzed around the princess's eyes. They swept down her eyelashes, one by one, working them into perfection.
Another group had been set on her horn. Spray bottle and rag acting as polish across the magical cylinder. Someone else worked on her lips. Another on her eyelids. Once the socks had gone on her back legs, the panties were next, slid across the legs, over the slope of her rump, settling, roughly, into place.
Ladders had been the next thing to come as they rested at varying heights on her rump. At each side of her underwear, like a loose bridge of fabric, were the clasps set to connect to the top of the socks. On the ladders climbed up the unicorns. Pegasi, of course, floating behind their ascent.
“Think the crew going in now has to be the luckiest one yet.” Celestia's eyes fell from the side of her rump and focused on the end of her snout. Concentration was required to see the back of the stallion sitting there. “Can't say that I don't envy them a little bit.”
Celestia smiled at the pestering of the pegasus working on her lips. “Is that so? Surely you could end your break early! Lead the workers to the kind of world that exists in the back of there.”
“Not much an earth pony can do in the tasks of stretching your underwear out.”
“Really? Because I could imagine a fair bit you could do back there.”
“Think you must be the first mare to quite literally want me in the back of her underwear.”
“Back of my panties sounds a lot cuter.” Both of them looked to the titanic swell of her backside that was blurry in the distance. It rose high. Maybe higher than Castaway could see. “Perhaps there are a lot of other spots you would be more comfortable? Top of my stockings? Maybe the bottom of them?”
“Always liked a girl that walks all over me.”
“Stealing my puns again! If you don't choose—I'll stuff you down one of the many options soon.”
“And you want me to ruin the surprise of that happening?”
Meanwhile, the crew docked on the white fuzzy lands of the mare's barrel. Once all accounted for, the leaders of the squads, each composed of size, approached the brim of the underwear. The rump was straight and would be facing the same for the rest of the operation.
The unicorns ignited their horns in a magical glow, all of them morphing together into a multicoloured convergence, one passing onto the brim of the underwear. In their strand, the border lifted from the coat—teasing the cool, dim, and vast cavern within.
The three squads followed in individual lines as they marched into the underwear. Grounding was first to transition. From soft and relaxed to becoming incredibly squishy. Everything dimmed as well as curved walls loomed so far to the sides. In the dimness was the tops of whiteness incredibly jiggly. In so much that every step was swallowed to the ankle in doughy masterworks.
Princess Celestia had been instructed to lay on her stomach more for this. She did so with her snout crashing into the water below. Castaway was forced to break the surface, treading in place, glaring up at the mare with a scowl for his wet clothes.
Celestia responded by sticking her tongue out—and then chasing him with it in the water.
Way behind her head, though, with her flanks as straight and up as possible, the teams inside worked to straighten out the article. It'd been slipped between her legs and pushed on and over her rump. Hard as the crane could push forward before the density of the bunched squish was too great.
From there it was left to the ground troops.
Inside the underwear in the dimness of the clothing, teams occupied spots on squishy terrain, three each, one on both cheeks, the third poised over the top of the divot. It sprawled down as its surface was caught between the pressed cheeks. The broadness of the swells pushing out on either side.
And the fabric clung to the volume of the flanks.
Remember! The princess is mighty kind in letting strangers in a place they REALLY don't belong! Down and outward across the objectives of greatness. Any of you fools caught going straight down can be guaranteed of being stuffed into the princess's personal gulag until the end of your days.
...and no! That ain't an invitation for you to be going after that either!
Problem with stuffing underwear on a gigantic princess was, once you got it on, there came the matter of getting the fabric to conform to the curves of hills. Unicorns lifted their horns from either cheek, their power becoming light on the ceiling, spreading out the fabric.
From there the pegasi flew in. Flying with the curves of the underwear and pushing it out downward. Over the swells of the snowy rump for how much of the cheek that would fit within it. Even at this size—the princess had gone a size too small.
Those in the middle, though, were instructed to pull out the fabric riding into the cleft of the immeasurable cliff. Unicorns pulled on the clumps that were caught between the cheeks. The pegasus flew down, some a little deeper into the divot, into the piles of silk, flying into them to push them out.
Everyone worked slowly though the progress was steady. Those on the outside watched as the panties comfortably stretched over the frosty mountains. Some were saddened to see the boundless bottom become hidden behind the veil of thick silk. But once the cheeks settled into the hold of the underwear—stretched it out immensely.
And with how much those panties hugged the magnitude of that ass.
Everyone was less saddened.
Meanwhile.
Back at the water.
Celestia continued to lap at the cool water as the sunlight glimmered the pool. Castaway rode the waves every time and suddenly his name was starting to make sense. In hearing the power of industry cranes come to life, though, the giant mare quickly slurped the tiny stallion in her maw—turning back to the port.
Water dripped from the sides of her lips as there was fumbling in the pool inside her maw.
Cranes on the sides of the dock buzzed as they turned. Their hooks swung into the clasps of her socks, the machines roaring as they rose, the golden metal lifted, that was, until reaching the same to the hanging straps of the underwear. Ponies on ladders guided the hooks in before starting the process of fastening them.
“Out of all the places you could have tucked me away,” came the muffled and echoed voice coming not from around, but rather, inside of her muzzle. Celestia's eyes focused on her snout with a growing blush. “I didn't think this place was one of them! Your tongue is like a sea monster with how it's lurking below the water and—HO!”
Celestia shot her tongue out and looked at its end, where the Castaway hugged its edge, barely hanging on. “Muawh bwad.”
Castaway pulled himself over the edge and rolled onto the rubbery appendage. It warmed his back with its velvet texture. Wet and slick though already those things from the swim before. He sighed and rolled his head—looking at the princess. “Don't mention it. Ever. Not going to be able to live this one down at the bar afterward.”
Celestia spat him out like a lady onto the ground. Once the work on her rump had completed, underwear and socks connected, ladders resting into the squish of her butt now pulled away, the princess had been instructed to roll onto her back.
She did so faster than what seemed possible. Those consumed within her shadow ran for their lives—some hopping onto the bolting forklifts to make their great escape. The ground fractured in bearing the titanic turn.
Those caught in the valley between the silky legs and before the immensity of the staggering derriere were silent and compelled toward the art of painting. Over those legs glinted the hooks of cranes as they swung over the thickness of the thighs. Pegasi flew with them as they landed on the lower belly of the princess.
From there, they guided the hooks underneath the brim of the underwear, the cranes pulling up and right on them. Ensured the panties were snug to the mare's hips, they continued the process, around, the princess rolling a little each time, loving every second of it.
Celestia had been kind enough to fit herself into the top as the crew assembled all the cranes to lift the remaining skirt. Now resting on her forelegs with her rump stuck up, the princess felt the dome of the shadow, the skirt lowering over her bottom, another set of ponies there, waving it down and around, finding it down and around.
They'd tied cables around her tail. Each of them connected in its downward trek to the hanger afar. Once the hole of the skirt had been passed through the tail and a set of cables, a crew would go in and release them, leaving to slide the skirt on some more, the process repeating.
It didn't take much longer for the princess to be dressed; the afternoon approaching by the time they were done. Celestia could feel the aching in her bones to get up and out and exercise herself. Once the zone had been clear for walking, she went to stand, however, stopped for a second more by a shadow.
Her eyes looked up to see the inside of a cap. Her head darted out with eyes peeking up from its side. Castaway was in the crane and waving her on with a grin. She returned it with a smirk in keeping still. Soon the naval hat was lowered onto her head and, of course, given a tad of a tilt for personality.
Now it was time for Celestia to rise from the port, a light crater forming around her hooves, the added pressure felt by those close to them. The mare didn't notice as she arched high above. Her eyes settled on the tallest crane in the dock—still forced to let go.
It was quite a sight for Castaway as he was inside the cubicle. He leaned back into the chair with his legs up and crossed over the lever. Forelegs did the same at the back of his head. Through the glass was the widescreen to the face of the giantess. Those confidently narrowed eyebrows accumulated by the brim of her cap.
“The world is your oyster, commander.” Castaway gave a mock salute. “Whatever in tarnation that means.”
“I must say, my Castaway, I will miss this dearly.”
“Bah! Go have yourself some fun!” His hooves limply dropped to his sides. “Go crush a cart and knock over a building. Decimate a street and rock the stuff you've been wanting to show off for so long.” He rolled and cracked his head with a summoning of a yawn at his lips. “Celestia knows... uh.... I mean...” Castaway coughed and blushed and turned his head before trying again. “Goodness knows, I mean, that tomorrow is going to be chaos for us. Lotta new material going to be shipped here. Better rest now while I can.”
“Maybe, perhaps, I could bring you—“
“And worry about me? Go have yourself some true fun and don't look back.” Castaway watched as her muzzle turned, her cheek washing over and filling the screen. Faint red the closing of the eye over it. “Don't you sweat that head of yours thinking of it being anything else. I'd gladly wrestle a giant mare. But first you have yourself a day of enjoying being one—ya hear?”
Celestia looked back at him and words could not encompass the beauty behind the glass. The massiveness of her features amplifying all great with them. Soft expression and half-lidded eyes. That small smile despite her size. The naval cap framed everything. Her dense and chromatic mane swept and tucked behind the hat. The look of assurance. A lady fully rocking her stuff.
How could one not fall in love with that?
There'd been a rumbling outside the crane as the giantess stepped closer. Celestia leaned in. Eyes closing in drawing her muzzle to the glass. Her lips mounting it, awash over every inch, the plush whiteness now his everything. Castaway leaned forward with a chuckle, but silent inside, swept away by it all.
The lips pulled back to the immensity of the face again. One of her eyes had been covered by her mane. The other, though, opened slowly, seeing him dumbfounded—and covering a hoof over her mouth to laugh.
The mare turned around and strolled out through the yard, every step slow, thunderous, rocking the world a little. Castaway bolted out from the room and onto the metal walkway. He saw out to the side of the mare's barrel, dressed, now, in a sailor outfit with chest-fluff peeking through the front of its opening.
The feminine structure had slowed at the exit of the yard. She looked over at him from afar. Seeing him nearly hanging over the railing had evoked another laugh from her. The tip of her horn started to glow. Cloud of gold. The same field appeared underneath the helm of her skirt.
Which lifted up.
The broadness of the naval-striped underwear had been dimmed underneath it. Now, though, sunlight illuminated some of it. Something slid out from a pocket inside the skirt. Sheet of paper, a card rather, though one of her size.
“What's this? Not much of my kiss remains on that glass of yours,” Celestia said while staring at him, the hem of her skirt falling over her rump, that card floating below her eyes. Golden fires inscribed into the paper as its magic splashed out. “I must really like you, Sir Castaway.”
A tube of scarlet and translucent magic appeared and glossed over the curve of the mare's lips. It zapped out of existence after the princess rolled her lips together—a sheen of red dressing them. “Because I do not recall the last time I wore lipstick for anyone.”
Princess Celestia then closed her eyes in lifting the card, kissing its corner, a soft intensity to the thing. She pulled back with satisfaction and wiped her mouth on a foreleg. Patch of white fur now with its tips faintly red.
With her furthest eye focused on him, the princess narrowed it sweetly, ending the magic and blowing on the card. It whipped through the air, aided by the boom of her laugh, as the mare turned around. Her massiveness strode out from the yard with an accentuated sway to her hips.
Those at the gates far below, though, were forced to break the glass, vaulting out through the window of the office, at the mare, so interested in giving a show, that she forgot to check the land below. The gate and building, flattened in a step, as the round hoof zoomed out and on ahead.
Castaway watched the rump and how it shook, the flouncing of the skirt, waves of its fabric dancing, a casual swing over the twisting and shifting flanks beneath it. Finally her form darkened and blurred as it ascended the steep hedge afar, climbed in a single step, to the hints of towering buildings high and on the horizon.
The sheet of paper touched the ground below. Castaway blinked in seeing it cover the center of the dock. Crowds formed around it already. He frowned at the dots forming around it. Shuffling to the ladder, he slid down, barking at the scene. “Hey! You all get away from there! Royal business association only!”
The wind cut upward and the smoothness of steel burned into his hooves. Castaway's strength barely went for much. Hence the desire to be born as someone else. In hitting the ground a little too quick and forced to hop around on impact, he wobbled and swayed from side to side.
He fought he would have to fight to make it to the scene.
But the crowd opened in a lane before him.
“Hey! Everyone get lost now! You read your family's mail—aw shoot.” Castaway shook his head in strolling—more so limping—to the bottom of the card larger than a cart. “Most of you probably do. No honour. Zero character. The lot of you!”
He sighed and shook his head. There was a desire to not read the card. Like a gift that continued to excite before it opened. Knowing it was there and waiting and from someone to be admired. It stole his mind and his breath and a touch of his heart. “But y'all are hard workers. Everyone earned a paycheck today. Unique use of machinery and professionalism in spots I was worried I'd lose a few colts. And mares. Just about everyone really.”
Finally his eyes swept onto the card.
The text had been gold and burned into the page with the finest cursive read in his life. So much so that he had to cock his head and blinked to make it work out. It pushed him, so much more, that his hooves pointed underneath the word as he read across—sometimes going back on struggling with a syllable in his head.
Castaway.
The wishes I wish to express to you are countless.
But I find they can be encompassed in one.
See me tomorrow?
~ Your Celestia ♥
Castaway stumbled back from the writing and wasn't sure what to make of it. Turning into his shoulder, he exhaled on it, checking his breath. His eyes shot up to his bangs and, as blond as they were, had been dirtied and not washed for a while. Much less styled. The same true for the rest of him.
He turned to the crowd to find them lined in rows behind him. Each was in a salute despite it not being custom in this line of work. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. Yet his smile and his laugh, the lightness in his expression, all of it served to make him feel alive.
“Don't suppose one of you fools has gone to the castle at all? Y'know... as a guest?”
Everyone shook their heads in synchronization.
“Any fool willing to pitch a fund for this fool? Enough to get the hair greased and a tuxedo fixed?”
“Don't you have to go into the city that's about to get knocked over for that?”
“I'll make sure the mare doesn't see me gettin' pretty before then.”
“You sure it's even worthwhile?”
“Sure it's worthwhile?! That’s jealousy talkin' there!”
“Hey! The card! Something's coming through on the other side!”
It was true. Everyone looked to the card to the magical show of gold glowing on the card pressed to the ground. With a nudge of the head, the staff were commanded to a side, the one with the massive lips kissed into it.
The card rose high and flipped onto its front. Its back laid exposed to them all. It was a drawing this time—and a moving one. The drawing was only of Celestia. Her head loomed far away, looking at them from the side, the full extent of her rump, cheeks devouring the page, bouncing left and right.
Rump swung left and Celestia stuck out her tongue from the right.
Derriere swept right and Celestia stuck out her tongue from the left.
Sometimes the bottom periodically rested in the middle, Celestia's head tilted back over her spine, mane now spilling down her neck. She stuck out her tongue, upside down, keeping there like it was the end of a loop. Between the naked cheeks, though, something else was being etched into existence.
And Castaway had the wisdom to dive over the spot, coming to glare at those around, barking at them. “Get lost! The lot of you! I ain't gettin' up until this space is clear! Now move! Shoo! And leave me some bits in the office when you're done—I know y'all got paid well today! Cause I'm the one paying you!”
Everyone laughed as the rump swung to the right again, out from beneath him, teasing all to the sight, not fully accurate, but, without a doubt, a hundred percent appealing. The stallion rose and chased at the lot.
And they ran, falling into craters and climbing out, others avoiding cracks in the ground, knowing the luck of the day, now, was already bad. Castaway was like a guard dog in protecting the card. In standing there alone, he sighed, looking for a forklift—or another thing to roll the card so it could fill his backyard after work.
As the stallion got to work.
The mare existed somewhere afar, no longer seen, but still felt, in the lightness that rumbled through the ground. The afternoon would be a strange one for countless reasons. But as the morning had been terrible. The afternoon, now, was looking to be wonderful.
For a select few of course.