The Clocktower Society's mission is to fulfill every kink, no matter how niche. What better way to tell their erotic story than through the eyes of those working in its offices, filling out forms, faxing forms, and most excitingly, signing forms?
Cloudly Nimbus is a young virgin working a diner in Cloudsdale when she overhears a pair of patrons talking about a Clocktower Society. Their tales make both her heart race and nethers quake. From then on, she pledges to seek out this society and live their life of debauchery to her fullest.
This is not her story.
This is the story of the support staff who ensure that Equestria's premier sexual cult can operate smoothly. This is the story of the doctors, the cooks, and the poor, poor janitors. This is the story of the dozens of ponies who work behind the scenes, ensuring that the magic of devotion can progress efficiently and smoothly.
This is the Clocktower Society as you've never seen it before. From the eyes of their administrative team.
A not so official parody of the Clocktower Society. Note that is written as a comedy and not a clopfic.
Proofread by Undome Tinwe and Cynewulf, the fuck and marry of my fuck-marry-kill. Also Brasta Septim, who provided strict christian moral guidance through this.
Cover art was done by Manifest Harmony, holy shit this came out of left field and is utterly fantastic. Just look how good it is!
When Treble Clef told ponies that she worked for the Clocktower Society, she always got strange looks. Most ponies assumed she worked as a concubine, prostitute, stripper, showgirl — you know, one of the million perverted possibilities that came with working at a place like the Society.
However, no one ever really appreciated the fact that the Society required one hell of a support staff to run their daily operations. There were the bartenders who mixed drinks, the security stallions who made sure consent was obeyed, the poor poor janitors who had to, well… you could imagine easily enough what exactly they had to deal with on a daily basis. Then there were the managers, the board of directors, delegates to foreign and domestic governments, maintenance crews, engineers, an HR department which was incredibly understaffed, and of course there was her department, the control room.
The control room was a feature of every Clocktower Society installation, a little office where anywhere from two to a dozen ponies sat around, watching monitors and making sure that everything was running smoothly.
For installation C-165 (The Whinnyapolis Branch), this room employed fifteen ponies, operating in three five-pony teams.
Treble’s was the one assigned to the graveyard shift.
“Alright team,” Treble Clef’s manager, Windy Cyclone, said, “It looks like the flame of devotion is running at one hundred percent efficiency today, so no national disasters appear to be on the horizon.”
This was met with a half-hearted ripple of applause.
Windy was a towering hulk of a mare, with a bright orange mane that had been shaved down to a fine stubble. If you were looking through the dictionary for the word butch, you were likely to see a picture of her next to it.
“Now just for a few pieces of housekeeping,” she continued, “I want everyone to know that our shipment of marecum has been delayed, and as such, we need to pay special attention to the bar tonight. We can expect severe shortages, and you know how ponies get when they can’t get their hooves on…”
Bountiful Harvest was the newest pony here. They had joined the team a few months back coming fresh out of college.
Windy snorted. “Yes, that. As such, after six I want Cryptic to keep a watchful eye on the bar. Think you can do that?”
Cryptic nodded. “Sure, thing boss. Though I might need some help covering the cuddle den, that place is always busy on Thursdays.”
Cryptic Message was a former officer in the Royal Army’s intelligence agency. Though his loyalty had turned out to be easily bought when the society snatched him up by adding an extra ten grand to his already sizeable annual income.
Windy clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
“Treble, you think you can offer him an extra pair of eyes?”
“Sure, thing boss,” Treble said, saluting. “Though, can I interrupt you for a moment?”
“What’s up?”
Treble scrolled through her various monitors until she found the problematic status report. “Looks like maintenance forgot to change the water filters for the pet den. Think you can get someone on that? They’re starting to look pretty scary.”
“You’ve got to be fucking with me.” Windy drew a hoof down her face. “They forgot to change them again?”
“Looks like it, boss.”
Windy growled. “Those fucking idiots. I have half a mind to shove my hoof so far up Nut’s ass…”
She swung her foreleg forward, just in case anyone was curious about what that hypothetical hoof fisting would’ve looked like.
“Judging by what he does in his off time, he’d probably enjoy that,” Lilac murmured, garnering a few chuckles from her team.
Lilac was Bountiful’s sister, brought on when it was revealed that the staff needed to make a diversity hire and bring on a token cishet pony to tackle the duties of watching the hetero stalliondoms. A thankless job that they were all very thankful about not having to do.
“You’re probably right,” Windy growled. “Anyways, where was I?”
“We're short on mare piss,” Cryptic mumbled under his breath while clicking away at something.
“Right, right. Anyways, I want everyone to remember that next Wednesday is our monthly open house, so we should expect a bunch of first timers to come through our doors. Which means stay vigilant for missing collars or abused safewords.”
Everyone groaned.
Windy lifted a hoof, calming them back down to near silent grumbling. “Look, look, I know you all hate newbies, but the flame of devotion requires that we fuck and if we don’t have enough ponies to do the fucking, we’re in a tight spot here. Remember, we need to keep the flame going unless we want the world to fucking die.”
“I know but…newbies suck,” Bountiful muttered.
“Do I have to repeat myself here,” Windy said. “We’re trying to avoid the world turning into a massive snowball. Sometimes sacrifices need to be made.”
“Ok. But… newbies,” Treble chimed in.
“We were all newbies at one point,” Windy explained, motioning to the room. “Well… except for Cryptic… and you, Treble.”
Treble flushed. “Look, I just haven’t found the right pony to surrender myself to, yet. I swear, I still have plenty of time to get into bondage and all that weird sex stuff that goes on here.”
Windy waved her hoof. “Yeah, yeah, we ain’t judging. Like I said, the flame is burning strong so we don’t need to start conscripting randos into our sex games.”
Bountiful looked at Cryptic. “How do you even manage to watch all the stuff that goes on here?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, glancing at them.
“Well, you’re ace? Isn’t sex like repulsive to you?”
Cryptic snorted. “I once spent three months disguised as a blood diamond merchant in southern Griffonia. Let me tell you, watching a couple of boomers going at it, while doing petplay, is nothing compared to that.”
“Celestia’s sake,” Windy muttered, rubbing the bridge of her snout. “Are all your stories grim?”
Cryptic picked up his mug – which lacked any novelty - and took a sip. “Pretty much.”
“Anyways,” Windy continued, “just a few final pieces of news. First off, Orange Grove in Engineering just gave birth.”
“Oh my gosh, is it a colt or a filly?” Treble gushed. “I bet it’s so cute.”
“From what I heard it was a pair of beautiful little fillies. If any of you are interested, Carol from HR is posting a well wishes card in the staff room for anypony who wants to sign it.”
The gathered ponies mumbled promises to do so, murmuring amongst themselves.
Windy raised her brow and her staff’s conversation died down, allowing her to return to the list. “Second, management has deemed our department, the department of the month…” This was greeted by a round of applause and light cheering, “and will be shipping donuts to us next Saturday as a reward. Though, due to HR complaints, I would like to remind you that no, it isn’t witty to call them a dozen assholes.”
“Oh, come on,” Lilac grumbled. “They totally look like them.”
“What are you, twelve?” Bountiful asked. “Grow up.”
“I am grown up.”
“Oh please, you’re still scared to tell mom that you’re working for the Society.”
Lilac’s face lit up. “I don’t want her to be disappointed!”
Bountiful huffed. “Her and dad are literally members, Lily”
“Wait…what?” Her expression paled. “Ew, ew, ew. I didn’t need to know that.”
“Bountiful, please don’t antagonize your sister,” Windy grumbled.
“She started it!”
“And I’m ending it.” Windy loudly cleared her throat. “Anyways! One last thing to note. On Friday, our department will be competing against the cockworshippers at Volleyball. If you’re on the team, try to make it out, and if not, I’d still love to see some cheering fans.”
“I thought we took on the cockworshippers last week?” Treble asked.
“No, that was the sissy subs.”
Cryptic shook his head. “There’s a difference?”
“Maybe…” Windy shrugged, “they seem to think so and that’s what’s important.” She glanced at her crew. “Anyways, anymore questions? Or can we get started?”
When no one responded, Windy nodded to herself. She was about to turn away but something stopped her.
"Actually..." She sighed, "I think I'm gonna give a little inspiration speech."
Cryptic chuckled. "Bestow your wise words upon us, glorious leader."
Windy rolled her eyes. "We see a lot of weird shit doing this job, both figuratively and literally. We see ponies old enough to be our parents doing kinks we could never dream of, we see rooms get covered in every bodily fluid and byproduct imaginable, and we see all sorts of really weird and messed up stuff. Like fuck, I didn't even know what unbirth was until I started working here." She shook her head. "But do try and remember that by making this sacrifice, we literally ensure that Equestria isn't going to fucking die. So... so let's try and make this a good day, alright?"
She picked up her coffee and downed it, smacking her lips as she discovered a certain… flavour.
“Actually, one last thing…” she muttered under her breath.
Treble glanced at Bountiful, the two of them hiding their snickers behind their hooves.
“What is it, boss?” Bountiful asked, hardly able to conceal their laughter.
Treble Clef nosily sipped her diet coke, distracted by the monitor in front of her. Occasionally, in the service of the Clocktower, a control room member was bound to discover a session so good, so profoundly life changing, that they couldn’t help but be a shameless voyeur for a couple of minutes.
This was one such case, as Treble watched a pair of mares going at it. One was a rugged pegasus butch that would’ve given Windy Cyclone a run for her money. The other, a petite little femme unicorn, seemed to be doing a rather good job of taking the strap-on that dangled from her partner’s midsection into her oozing cunt.
“Fuck,” Treble muttered, watching as the butch bottomed out and the femme seemed to just stiffen and transcended to some fresh and exciting level of pleasure. Some kind of bottoming nirvana, if you would.
“Something the matter?” Windy asked.
Treble looked over at her boss and suddenly became very aware of the fact that she’d just spent the last ten minutes of work watching what was essentially some very good amateur porn.
At least her hormones were doing a good job of making sure she didn’t get a stiffy and betray the fact.
“N-nothing, Windy.”
“Were you watching some ponies going at it?”
Her cheeks warmed. “Of course not!”
Windy snorted. “Not like I care. Everypony else in the office does it. Plus, it’s not like there’s anything better to do on a Tuesday. It’s slow as fuck.” She glanced over and smiled coyly. “What are you watching?”
Treble smirked and turned her monitor to face Windy. By now the butch had switched up her position, riding the poor little femme raw, her new vantage allowing her to plow into the mare with little resistance.
“Well, two mares are going absolutely ham in R-612,” she explained. “Been awhile since I’ve seen something this good.”
Windy was silent.
“Like, that butch is putting her poor femme through her paces,” Treble continued, whistling softly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mare turned into such a total slut so quickly in my life. How about you, boss? Think you could learn a move or two from them?”
When Treble glanced over, she noticed that Windy’s jaw was agape, her gaze seeming to go on forever into the distance.
“Something the matter, Windy?” Treble asked.
Windy flinched, brought back to the moment. A grim pain seemed to fill her eyes and flash across her complexion.
Was she… crying?
“That uh,” she mumbled. “That femme is my wife.”
Treble nodded slowly. “Oh… I uh... I didn’t realize you two were in an open relationship.”
“We’re…” Windy’s voice was hardly louder than a whisper, “uh… we’re not.”
Treble paled. “Oh.”
Episode 3 - Soylent Mare Juice is made out of piss!!!
Bountiful Harvest trotted into the office. On their back was a cardboard box with "clocktail samples" scribbled haphazardly onto the side in sharpie.
“Where did you get that?” Treble Clef asked.
“One of my friends from college works as a bartender here and was wondering if I’d like to pick up a bit of their excess stock,” they responded with a shrug.
Windy Cyclone peered over from her workstation. “Get anything good?”
“Don’t know, haven’t opened it yet,” Bountiful said.
They shrugged off the box, placing it upon a nearby workstation before flipping it open. Inside were various bottles and cans.
“Wait,” they muttered, pulling out what appeared to be a can of Lemon-Lime Tartarus Energy Drink. “Why’s that in there?”
Windy smirked and snatched the can away, holding it afloat for her team. She then began to recite something from memory, “Dash is a potent energy tonic with a clear complexion and fizzy texture.”
“This stuff is in Dash?” Lilac asked.
“This stuff is Dash.”
“Dash is just an energy drink?”
“That’s how markups work, kid.” Windy cracked open the can and took a sip. “Have you ever been to a buckball game?”
“Uh… one or two?”
“You know how the Equestrian Bank Stadium sells Buck Dogs?”
“Yeah?”
“Same principle.” Windy walked back over to the box, placing her can beside it. “We buy a product, slap a fancy name on it, and then bam, we get away with at least a 200% mark up.”
Treble got up and walked over, peering inside the box. “So, we just buy like regular consumer products and pass them off as our own?”
“And we make a ton of bits doing it.” Windy snorted. “Tell me, do you see any bags of tea in there.”
Treble fished around, finding a box that did in fact contain teabags.
Windy grinned. “You have a good friend, Bountiful.”
“T-thanks?”
Windy grabbed the box, showing off just like she had for the energy drink. It was a pretty groovy design except for the very official looking banner at the bottom, letting them know each bag contained 10mg of THC.
“What the fuck uses weed?” Cryptic Message asked, holding out his hoof so he could look at the box.
“Stampede uses sativa as an aphrodisiac, fireglow uses indica for relaxation, and I think a few other clocktails use it as well. Personally, just making a chai tea latte is fine for me, but I think they like to pretend they aren’t getting patrons lit as fuck, so they mix it with fruit juices and sodas and mare juice and what not.”
Treble winced. “Isn’t having sex while high, kind of a huge no?”
“Dude, have you ever tried having sex while high?” Lilac Garden asked. “It’s one of the greatest feelings in the world.”
Windy ignored her. “Officially yes, Treble, we shouldn’t be supplying ponies with this stuff. But its very much an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. If we don’t supply it, ponies just pre-game. It’s not like we can accurately detect if the weed in their system is recent or not.”
“Plus,” Cryptic added, “haven’t you noticed that every clocktail is either a depressant, aphrodisiacs, or stimulants? Kind of impossible to get those effects without there being some mind altering substance involved.”
“Also, don’t clocktail sales makes up a huge part of our operating budget?” Bountiful added. “It’s pretty easy to play dumb when money’s involved.”
“That too,” Windy agreed, gesturing towards them. “And that’s also why we have our jobs. We get paid to make sure that the ponies using the bar don’t get too crazy.”
Treble continued to empty the contents of the box, finding that pretty much everything was a name brand, ranging from sodas to common liquors to fruit juices.
“Looks like we’re going to have one hell of a party,” Lilac muttered, looking at a cheap bottle of port. The label had been covered by a piece of tape with Serene scribbled over top.
Bountiful nodded. “So, every clocktail is just…”
“A regular ass cocktail with a funny name and huge markup?” Windy snorted. “Pretty much. Though honestly, we have one advantage over the common patrons.”
“What’s that?” Treble asked.
“Almost every single clocktail contains a nice generous dose of marecum, which anyone whose taken sex ed knows, includes a very generous ration of urine.” Windy smirked and motioned towards the box. “So, with that being said, who's game for enjoying some pee-free clocktails?”
Episode 4 - Why is there a public use slut in the office?
“Hey Cryptic, can I ask you a question?” Treble Clef asked.
Cryptic Message popped out his earbuds. “What did you say?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah sure, what’s up.”
Treble nodded discretely towards their water cooler. “What’s she doing in our office?”
Next to the water cooler was a very lithe mare with a gorgeous pink coat and platinum blonde mane. She looked like an absolute supermodel and wore a plain white collar spotted with little silver studs. Yet, with a body that bold the collar almost seemed like a natural addition.
“I believe that’s a public use slut,” Cryptic said, turning back to his monitor full of graphs and charts.
“I know that,” Treble hissed under her breath before glancing back at her. “But what the hay is she doing in our office?”
Cryptic shrugged and clicked away at something. “I don’t know, why don’t you ask her?”
“Because she’s really pretty…” Lilac murmured, her cheeks warming, “and I’m way too much of a disaster.”
“Then I can’t help you there.”
She sighed and looked at Lilac Garden and Bountiful Harvest. “Do either of you know what she’s doing in here?”
Bountiful shrugged. “Maybe she got lost?”
Lilac shook her head. “She’s probably here to help with office morale or boost productivity or whatever?”
Cryptic snorted. “Yeah, that’s exactly what we need. Make it even easier for us to get distracted by sex.”
“Well one of us should really go talk to her,” Treble said.
“Snout game!” Lilac chanted.
A moment later, she pressed a hoof to her snout. Treble was only two seconds behind, but as she looked at her coworkers, she realized that was two seconds too late.
“Oh, come on!” Treble whined. “I can’t do it.”
“I’m sorry,” Lilac said. “It’s the rules. You have to go talk to her, now.”
Cryptic nodded. “It’s true. And everyone knows that the rules are sacred.”
“But I hate the rules.”
“Then get faster reflexes,” Bountiful said, sticking out their tongue.
Treble sighed and stood up. “You three suck.”
She grumbled under her breath as she walked towards the water cooler, flashing what could only be the least steady smile known to equinekind.
“Hey there,” she said, a baritone crack in her voice instantly making her face brighten a few embarrassed shades. “Uh, how are you doing?”
The mare looked to her and giggled. Her laughter was almost intoxicating, like a million tiny church bells of pleasantness all chiming at once.
“I’m doing pretty good,” she said. “And who might you be?”
“T-treble Clef, and you?”
“Boon Value, pleasure to meet you,” she said, holding out a hoof.
Treble reached forward and nervously shook her hoof. As she not-so-subtly glanced past her, at her flank, she noticed that the mare did in fact bear a computer-y cutie mark. It seemed to almost clash with her bubbly demeanour.
“So, what... uh... brings you to our office?” she asked, pouring a cup of water for herself. It would be a much-needed relief to help cool her burning face. “We don’t get many ponies from your department down here.”
The mare cocked a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Well, you know. Usually, the uh… public use sluts are in the client-facing parts of the Clocktower Society. Are you… lost?”
The mare’s expressions fell and Treble winced. Had she said something wrong?
A moment later the office door opened and sweet salvation walked in as Windy Cyclone approached.
She looked at Treble and then at Boon. “Are you Boon Value?”
Boon nodded. “Are you the mare having computer problems?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe. My hard drive looks like it’s absolutely fried. Like even right-clicking on it brings up an error message.” She shook her head and motioned towards her desk. “Thanks for coming down so fast, by the way. It usually takes us ages to get someone from tech support down here.”
Boon shot Treble a final glare before turning and following Windy to her computer.
“Well, they recently doubled our department, so we should be getting better about that,” she said.
“Oh yeah, you a recent hire?”
Boon nodded. “Just finished my Bachelors in Computer Science at the University of Whinneapolis.”
“Well, welcome to the Control Room,” Windy said, drawing her muzzle across the room. “You’ll probably be seeing a lot of us.”
Treble looked at her co-workers and noticed that three sets of eyes were looking everywhere but in her general direction.
“Thanks, I look forward to working with you,” Boon said.
Windy hummed and nodded towards her. “What’s up with the collar, by the way? You a patron?”
“Oh no...” Boon chuckled. “Just a trans mare working in tech.”
Thankfully it seemed that Boon’s attention had completely abandoned Treble by this point.
That is until her clumsy ass dropped her little paper cup of water, which landed quite noisily on the floor.
And, within an instant, everypony was staring at her again.
Someone kill me now.
And they continued to state as she threw up her head and groaned.
Treble Clef munched on a donut, staring at the monitor in front of her. It was a Tuesday, and as tradition, she found herself hyper focused on a singular room.
Today’s featured a mare kneeling before another mare. The mare who was obviously doming paced back and forth, giving instructions for a scene that was about to unfold, laying down the groundwork and safewords like any good dom should.
What had Treble’s interest, however, was the fetish the scene was focused around. These two were going to be experimenting with hypnosis, a field which Treble believed to be a massive crock of shit. Still, the two of them were hot so she watched.
Finally, the dom stepped away from her sub and levitated over a modest-sized black and white disk.
Treble stared at this disk, examining it through the camera. The mare began to slowly spin it, the white and black melding together in a strangely enticing blur.
“Stare at the disk, my pet,” the dom ordered, her tone level.
Treble smirked.
Does she honestly think this is going to work?
“Look into the disk and allow it to sway you.”
Biggest crock of shit in the world.
“By the time I count to three you will be fully under my control.”
Yeah, whatever.
The sub nodded and Treble along with her.
Wait, why did she just nod?
“One.”
Her head started to feel weird.
“Two.”
Wait was this actually going to…
“Three.”
And just like that Treble couldn’t look away, her gaze growing vacant and far. She didn’t have permission to look away. Her Mistress hadn’t dictated that yet.
“Tell me what a little slut you are,” the dom said through her headphones.
“I’m a little slut,” Treble and the pet said at once.
Bountiful Harvest looked over from their console. “Treble, are you okay?”
She didn’t respond.
“Equestria to Treble, Equestria to Treble, over.”
Still nothing.
Bountiful grumbled under their breath. “What the hell is going on?”
They got up and walked over to Treble’s monitor, looking at the video playing.
Now, this is where they made one very unfortunate mistake. They unplugged Treble’s headset while the wheel was still turning.
“Look at the wheel and realize that you are fully under my control,” a domineering voice instructed.
Bountiful’s gaze grew vacant.
“I am fully under your control,” Treble and Bountiful mumbled in unison.
Windy Cyclone grumbled under her breath, fiddling with the keycard to the control room. Her meeting with the board of directors had been a massive fucking pain in the ass, as usual. However, she had managed to get through it relatively unscathed.
As she entered the office, she noticed that all four of her employees were gathered around Treble’s monitor, all staring vacantly at it.
“You guys alright?” she asked.
No response.
“Hello?”
“You are a dirty little slut,” a voice said, bleeding into the room from the monitor.
“I am a dirty little slut,” four voices chanted in unison, their tone deadened, vacant, and sounding far away.
“Oh, son of a bitch,” Windy mumbled under her breath.
She sighed loudly and picked up the phone on the wall, punching in a number.
It rang once, twice, and thrice before somepony picked up.
“Heartshine’s Office,” a cheery pegasus answered.
“Hey Heartshine,” Windy grumbled. “I need you to come down to the Control Room, my staff just got uh… hypnotized.”
A pause on the line.
“Heartshine?”
The sigh of a dozen years of bad decisions leaked through the line. “Yeah yeah, I’m coming down. Please tell me that they’re at least decent?”
“More or less.”
“Daffodil,” the monitor said.
Four ponies climaxed at once.
Windy facehoofed. “Actually, scratch that. Fucking hell, I need to call housekeeping.” She sighed. “Just… please get down here quick.”
“Hey Windy, I’m seeing a really creepy looking pony walking through the halls,” Treble Clef said, her face practically pressed against the monitor.
The pony in question was a solid white mare wearing a black suit. Not exactly the type of outfit you’d expect to see within the Society, where leather and latex were a far more appropriate choice.
“Creepy in what way?” Windy Cyclone asked.
“Ever see Mares in Black?” Treble asked, glancing briefly at her.
“I have,” Bountiful Harvest interjected, popping over Treble’s shoulder to look at the screen.
“Everypony has seen Mares in Black,” Cryptic Message chided.
“I haven’t,” Windy admitted before typing at her keyboard. “Which camera is she on?”
Treble scrolled through a menu. “Uh, A-421.”
Everypony in the control room typed in this number, putting up the live feed on all five of their monitors.
Bountiful whistled. “No kidding, she looks like she’s from the bureau of investigation.”
“Isn’t that camera like right outside our office?” Lilac Garden asked.
“It is,” Windy muttered. She then flicked on her comms. “Will the pony in the suit please remain still.”
They watched the pony stiffen.
“Is she armed?” Cryptic asked.
“Looks like it,” Bountiful grumbled, shaking their head. “What should we do?”
“Call in the BDSM knights?” Treble asked, shrugging her shoulders.
Cryptic shook his head. “They’re a bunch of rejects from the Royal Guard and are only good for taking on domestic abusers and throwing out drunks. I doubt they’ve even considered a pony bringing a weapon in here before.”
He fiddled with his monitor before gasping softly.
“What is it?” Windy asked, looking towards him.
“Get her in here,” Cryptic said, his tone unnaturally tense.
Everypony else seemed to pick up on this, their own demeanour cooling considerably.
“She has a gun!” Lilac growled. “We’re not inviting her in here.”
“Trust me, invite her in here.”
Windy sighed before clicking on her microphone. “Will the mare in black please enter the third door on the left.” She shook her head as the mare drew her gun. “And please put that away. We’re fucking unarmed.”
Thankfully, the pony holstered her pistol before walking towards their office. She knocked on it and everypony looked up as the steel security door opened, revealing the mare in her flesh.
“Uh hello?” the pony asked, stepping in cautiously.
Cryptic glared at her. “How the fuck did you end up here?”
Treble gasped.
Had Cryptic just sworn?
“Pardon?”
“What is your dimensional stamp.”
The mare frowned. “I’m not privy to give that information.”
“So, this is an institution site, then?” the mare asked, letting out a relieved sigh.
“No, it isn’t.”
The mare stiffened instantly. “But you just…”
“I used to work under O6 at site Oscar-15.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Windy asked, her gaze narrowing.
“It’s classified,” the stranger and Cryptic chimed in unison.
“Do you mind if I verify your claim?” the mare asked, holding out her hoof.
Cryptic snorted. “173 snaps necks, 6 is what keeps our Princess’ young, and no this place does not have memetic kill agents.”
“The Princesses?” the mare asked, before realization dawned on her. “You’re a monarchy over here?”
“You’re not one in…” Cryptic rolled his hoof. “What is dimensional stamp again?”
“Lima, two, two, five.” The mare sighed. “So, this isn’t an institution site in this dimension?”
I’m afraid not,” Cryptic said. “You’re on the property of the Clocktower Society.”
“The Clocktower Society?”
“Pretty much a cult which performs rituals to harness the power of SCP-037 to regulate weather patterns against SCP-087,” Cryptic explained, though it did little to ward off the confusion the majority of the room felt.
“The staircase?” the mare asked, tilting her head to the side.
The four other ponies in the control room just stayed silent, watching this bizarre conspiracy transpire, their gaze bouncing between the two ponies as if it were a tennis match.
Cryptic laughed. “Looks like we have a slight dimensional difference, here.”
“You mean besides the hooves?”
Cryptic nodded in agreement. “I mean besides the hooves.”
“I’m guessing 87 is not the staircase over here?”
“Nah it’s a keter-class entity that has the ability to chill global temperatures by around fifty degrees Celsius.”
The mare nodded. “I see. And what does this cult do to tame it?”
“We throw balling orgies,” Lilac piped up. “The Crystal Heart likes when we fuck.”
The mare deadpanned. “What?”
Cryptic chuckled. “Yeah it’s honestly a pretty harmless cult. All they really have to do is have uh… kinky sex and that somehow appeases 37.”
“I see,” the mare said, nodding slowly. “Is this cult the worst thing you have to deal with in this dimension.”
“Pretty much.” Cryptic shrugged. “All the other ones kinda accepted the institution's hegemony in these affairs and disbanded.”
“Please tell me you haven’t discovered a way to move between dimensions.”
“Oh… I mean, we have a couple…”
“No, no, no, you don’t understand. I want to stay here. This place sounds like it fucking rocks.”
Cryptic smirked, faking a worn-out sigh. “Well agent, I’m afraid that this dimension has no means of trans-dimensional transportation.”
Windy Cyclone stood up from her station, making her way towards the front of the room.
“Alright folks, I have some exciting news,” she said. “It turns out that the eggheads at C.T.R.L…”
“Just call it the research laboratories,” Cryptic Message interrupted.
Windy shot him a glare. “Fine. The eggheads in the laboratories have designed some new tech that they’re looking to roll out across Equestria.”
“Oh, oh, oh, is it like a new fucking machine?” Lilac Garden asked.
Treble Clef grinned. “Or did they finally figure out cold fusion?”
Windy shrugged. “Not entirely sure. All I know is that management has allotted us thirty minutes of paid time to listen to one of their researchers talk today. So, everypony turn off your monitors and put your hooves together for Boon Value.”
The assembled ponies clapped their hooves together as their office door opened. On the other side was a very familiar supermodel of a pony, who smiled at the room as she entered. At least until her gaze settled on Treble.
Much to Treble’s despair, she watched Boon glare at her sharply before returning her warm affection to the rest of the room.
Clearly, that grudge was still very much alive.
“Hey, weren’t you that IT pony?” Bountiful Harvest asked.
Boon laughed. “That was just a temporary gig until I finished my masters in biology. I work as a researcher now.”
“So, Misses Value, why don’t you tell us about this new technology?” Windy asked.
Boon nodded. “Well recently we were able to combine our cutting-edge virtual reality technology with new research into the techno-magical applications of stasis magic. With these two fields working together, we were able to revolutionize our long-term storage facilities.”
“How so?” Cryptic asked, cocking a brow.
“Well the VR technology allows us to stimulate the brain and physical body of the participant, allowing us to tease, toy, and torture them to whatever extent we see fit. Meanwhile, the stasis spells will allow us to slow the participant’s perception of time. We can very literally make an hour feel like a week with this tech.”
“Does that mean we can now offer longer-term storage options to clients?” Lilac asked.
“Exactly. With this new technology, we can provide a package that offers a top-notch long-term storage experience. During our trials, we’ve been able to compress a year’s worth of experiences into a 48-hour window.”
Cryptic nodded. “Does this affect the lifespan of the participant?”
“Not at all,” Boon said, shaking her head.
Treble beamed. “The medical applications of this would also be pretty revolutionary, right?”
The room went silent.
“Pardon?” Boon asked, obviously irritated at the mare’s question.
“Well, I mean,” Treble’s voice faltered. “Stasis spells have been used on victims of intense trauma for ages. Being able to manipulate their perception of time and offer them audio-visual stimulation would do wonders in improving their situation.”
No one spoke.
“We are going to share this technology with the civilian populace, right?” Treble asked, looking sheepishly around the room.
Not even a peep.
“Guys?”
“Treble,” Windy warned. “We’re the Clocktower Society, we don’t really do the whole… sharing things.”
"Plus," Boon said, "the economic gains from selling it to the medical industry are really small. Rates are hampered heavily by the Ministry of Medicine."
"Ok but the greater..." Treble began.
"But if we were to keep the tech to ourselves, we'd make a killing on having an exclusive experience,” Boon continued. “We'd make bits on memberships fees, food and beverage purchases, and the room and board we’d charge while they enjoy their experience. It doesn't make any sense hoofing this over to the general public and risking this cash cow."
“Ok… but this could improve the lives of countless ponies!”
“Or we could horde this technology and just use it for sex,” Boon said, grinning nice and wide.
Treble Clef stumbled into the Clocktower control room, a mixture of soda, liquor, and various other less savoury fluids dripping from her coat.
“Celestia, what the hell happened to you?” Cryptic Message asked, his voice almost rising a single decibel.
“It looks like you got gangbanged in the cafeteria,” Bountiful Harvest chided. “Going to be honest, I didn’t really peg you as the kind to be into that.”
Treble stumbled over to her desk, falling into her chair with all the weight that one hell of a bad day could offer.
“Subs are unionizing,” she murmured.
Windy Cyclone cocked a brow. “Pardon?”
“The subs are trying to form a union and they went on strike. They saw me walking to the control room, so they called me a scab and started throwing all sorts of things at me. I don’t even want to imagine which clocktails are soaking into my coat right now.”
“It looks like Bronco,” Lilac Garden offered, trying her best to offer a reassuring smile. At the moment, it was anything but.
“Does that have pee in it?” Treble asked, closing her eyes and groaning as she already knew the answer.
Cryptic shrugged. “Probably.”
Windy got up and marched towards the office’s phone. “Why the hell are the subs trying to unionize? You’d think they’d be used to being oppressed by now.”
Treble motioned with her hoof. “I think they mentioned something about not being oppressed by the right doms? Also, they were bitching about wanting certain pingable roles.”
“What does that even mean?” Windy asked, shaking her head.
“I don’t know but they just kept yelling at Papa Brasta and the other ponies on the management team. I think they’re going to riot!”
“I thought the subs already had a union,” Lilac said.
“Only the ones who are directly hired by the Society,” Cryptic said. “All the other sub are either freelancers or volunteer. So, they’re pretty boned.”
“Isn’t that the point,” Bountiful said. “Don’t they want to get boned?”
“Regardless,” Windy murmured. “I’m going to clean up this little mess.”
She grabbed the phone’s ear piece and began to punch in a number.
“What is she doing?” Treble asked, opening her eyes and glancing at Cryptic. “Who is she calling?”
“The special doms,” Cryptic said, shivering as a cold chill ran up his spine.
Treble couldn’t help but feel it as well. “What are those?”
“Doms we put on our payroll who are specialized in breaking up gatherings of subs, brats, and Marxists.”
“Aren’t all Marxists already brats?” Liliac whispered.
Cryptic nodded. “Yes, but not all brats are Marxists.”
Windy frowned as she finally got through. “Is this Officer Tearjerker?”
A pause as a sinister voice came through on the other end of the line.
“Very good. I just wanted to let you know that the subs at Whinnyapolis are attempting to unionize. I need you to send a strike team to put them back in their place.”
More silence as Windy nodded along to the droning murmur.
“Yes Officer, brute force is permitted.”
More murmuring on the phone.
“And tear gas.”
Cryptic rolled his eyes. “Just add ‘play’ to the end of something, and you can get away with anything here.”
