“Rarity, I require you to screw me.” Sweetie stuck out her leg.
“Sweetie, how uncouth! You know better than to ask that!” Rarity gasped.
Sweetie’s irises contracted as she tilted her head, her optical aperture growing smaller.
“Query not recognized.”
Rarity sighed. “A lady,” she put extra emphasis on the lady. “A lady does not blatantly ask to be screwed. She is polite and demure, and implies that she needs to be screwed rather than simply blurting it out.”
“Query. Why?”
“It is a hallmark of high society, Sweetie. If one wishes to survive in the upper crust, one must play the part! Asking to be rutted is simply scandalous. A gentlemare, demanding to be screwed like a common harlot? I think not!”
Sweetie stared at her sister, irises shrinking and then widening again. “Query one. What is a harlot?”
Rarity tapped between Sweetie’s ears. “You know what it means, use your head.” Sweetie paused, searching through her databases.
“Harlot: Noun. Plural form: Harlots. A prostitute. Originates from Old Prench herlot, meaning young stallion, knave, or vagabond.”
Rarity tousled the two toned pink mane. “You said you had another question?”
“Query two. What is so important about the 'upper crust'?” Sweetie intoned.
“Do you see those outfits?” Rarity pointed to the mannequins standing in the corner.
Sweetie turned her head to follow the hoof. “Affirmative.”
“Do you know who those clothes are for?”
Sweetie scanned them. “From left to right, Madame Fleur de Lis for use at balls. Monsieur Fancy Pants, for everyday use. Princess Twilight Sparkle, for formal parties only - not Pinkie Pie parties. Princess Luna, for use in the bed-”
Rarity coughed into her hoof, her cheeks red. “Ah, yes, why don’t we stop there?” Sweetie turned her head to look at the other unicorn.
“Query. You appear flushed. Are you ill? Do you require medical assistance?” Sweetie took a step towards Rarity, hoof still outstretched.
“No, no.” Rarity waved off the smaller unicorn. “Those outfits are for the higher ups. They control the private sector, the flow of money in the economy. Those in that socioeconomic bracket own us workers. Being a part of them means that one has ‘made it’, as it were.”
“Query. If I am simply a worker why must I act like a lady?”
“If you ever want to climb to their rank, you must behave like one of them.”
“Query. If I am simply a worker why must I climb to their rank?”
Rarity groaned and dragged her hoof down her face. “Because you should aspire to be something with your life! Reach the highest echelons available to you. Touch the stars! Dream big!”
“Query. I do not possess wings nor space travel. How am I to touch the stars?”
“It’s a figure of speech, Sweetie.” Rarity tugged at her mane, letting out a sigh as she turned back to the sewing machine.
“Query. Why will you not screw me?” Sweetie stepped forward, her hoof colliding with Rarity’s side.
“Screwing somepony is a very intimate action, Sweetie, surely you understand that!”
“I do not understand. You are my sister. Are we not close enough for you to screw me?”
“If I screw you, will you leave me alone?” Rarity glared at the smaller unicorn, who gazed straight ahead, unblinking.
“Affirmative.”
“Alright,” Rarity sighed. “Let’s get you docked.” Sweetie followed her obediently to a port on the wall. With a push of a button, a panel on Sweetie’s side swung open, exposing a cable. Rarity plugged it in, then levitated her sister onto a set of prongs that swung up from the wall.
“Where do you need to be screwed?” Rarity muttered to herself. She poked the monitor beside Sweetie’s head, and grumbled to herself. “Of course the drive’s loose, it’s always the drive. This damn model. Alright, where’s my screwdriver?”