//------------------------------// // Full Battle Rattle // Story: Right Fit // by Some Leech //------------------------------// Adjusting his doublet, Anon inspected himself in the mirror and smirked. “Not looking too shabby, Anon.” He wasn’t usually overly prideful or boastful, but he had to hand it to himself - convincing Celestia to join the Royal Guard was a stroke of genius. The soldiery of Equestia was the perfect place for a massive, fuck-all overpowered alicorn. He bothered that the armed forces were rarely used for anything other than a show of force and to periodically keep the peace - in fact, he counted on it. As long as the ex-Princess could stand by a gate and look presentable, nothing could go wrong. Seeing himself out of the stallion’s dressing room, he cradled his ceremonial halberd against one shoulder and strolled through the Canterlot Castle. Winding up back in the keep was refreshing and lifted his spirits in the best way. Not only was he intimately familiar with the layout of the place, but he’d already bumped into a few staff members and servants he’d worked alongside when he was living there! He lifted a hand to shield his eyes as he entered the courtyard and continued to the portcullis separating the city from the castle proper. There’d always been two guards flanking the entryway, giving directions to visitors and serving as a reminder to behave, and now he was going to be one of them. Coming up alongside the trooper he was going to replace for his shift, he patted the stallion on the soldier. “Go on and take a load off,” he noted. The guard, along with his partner, nodded and trudged away without saying a thing, leaving him by his lonesome. Stepping over, Anon straightened up, squared his shoulders, and looked out on the capital. It was going to be a wonderful day, even though he was pretty sure his feet would be sore by the end of it, and he was already looking forward to getting some food from the cafeteria. A familiar Pop and flash to his left, at the other side of the gate, prompted him to turn. “Didn’t feel like…” He went rigid and his thoughts instantaneously derailed, seeing the towering, armored behemoth looming only a few feet away. Holding a plate with a huge slice of cake in one hand, Celestia cheerfully hummed while blithely shoveling the confection into her frosting-streaked maw. While he wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she’d stopped at the kitchen for a morning treat, he was taken aback by her appearance. Most of the guards chose to wear comfier gear, like breeches, a doublet or gipon, a helmet, and their polearm, although Celestia had, for some unfathomable reason, pulled out all the stops. Unlike himself, wearing the bare minimum for the position, she was absolutely bedecked in heavy war plate. She would have looked like a dreadnought, a living siege weapon that was capable of breaking a line or sewing mayhem wherever she strode, had it not been for one small issue - not a single piece of the armor fit properly. Everywhere he looked, soft, doughy flesh spilled out from the seams on her outfit. The cuirass over her chest bulged outward, exposing a layer of chain mail on her cleavage, and came just short of fully covering her midriff - to make matters worse, the lower he looked, the more obscene the scene became. Her tasses and culet, armored plates that should have protected one’s behind and upper legs, failed to adequately cover her ass, succulent thighs, or nethers. “Mmmm,” she loudly and almost orgasmically hummed, gyrating and swallowing her bite. “Stars above, I’ve missed this.” Her sensual voice, slatternly appearance, and blissful expression were the sort of things young colts dreamt about, and Anon wasn’t the only one to take notice. A small group of ponies, tourists if he had to guess, stopped and instantly started taking pictures of the writhing, moaning alicorn who wouldn’t have looked out of place in an adult film or at a sexy costume party. Only tearing his eyes off her crotch when a camera flashed next to his face, he came back to his senses. Clearing his throat, he marched over to Celestia and impeded the voyeuristic visitor’s view. “No - just no…” Celestia quirked a brow and peeked down at him, moments from wolfing down another hefty morsel of cake. “How rude of me. Would you like some?” “Celestia, come on,” he groaned, subtly motioning over at the group animatedly whispering and gawking at her. “Don’t you think -” “Say aah,” she mused, bringing the forkful of confection to his face. Anon liked to consider himself a fairly steadfast man, able to put his foot down if and when the need arose, but he was powerless against her. As he gazed into her big, glimmering eyes, his lips parted then closed around the proffered bite. While a part of him was upset, her divine beauty and her joyful expression moved him in a way that shouldn’t have been possible. Withdrawing the fork and rising to her full height, she cocked her hip. “Would you like me to get you a slice?” He dumbly shook his head while his higher functions came back online. “No. Celestia - um - maybe you should change.” “Into what?” she jested. “This is the largest suit the armorer had available.” His mind raced, and blood surged to the last place in the world he wanted it to, as his eyes wandered down from her mountainous bosoms, over the creamy flesh of her belly, and to the cotton panties clinging to the plump mound on her loin. Sweet, merciful heavens - it should have been criminal for somepony to look so damn hot in armor! Through sheer willpower alone, he wrenched his attention off her unmentionables and up to her face. “Your royal armor,” he blurted. “Go put that on!” Closing her eyes, she hung her head. “Anon, you know as well as I do that I can’t do that. My old raiments are for royalty only; it would be unfitting for me to traipse about as a Princess after giving up the title.” “But it - Hey!” he barked, spinning and leveling the bladed end of his weapon at a stallion who was not-so-stealthily trying to angle his camera up at her groin. After scaring off the peeping pony, he waved at the group of visitors languidly skulking away. “See?” “Is…is it that bad?” she pouted, turning and running a hand down her back to her all but bear ass. He swallowed hard as she adjusted her panties. Her incredible stature and the way in which she was standing gave him a picturesque view of her backside and the tiny gap between her thighs, she was close enough that he could smell her, and her innocence only served to magnify how enthralling she was, making it almost impossible to think of anything but jamming his face into her tush. Summoning every ounce of self-control he had, he backed away. “It’s just a bit revealing,” he clarified. “Well it will have to suffice until…” she trailed off when she shifted to face him. An impish grin split her muzzle as her heavily-lidded eyes settled on him. “Now I see what the problem is…” Backing away, he tensed. “P…problem?” “Problem, yes,” she demurely repeated, sinking into a deep squat before him. It had taken everything he had to maintain his composure simply by being beside her, so the spectacle of her parted thighs, seductive smile, and her sultry tone threatened to break his composure on the spot. Reflexively adjusting certain parts of himself, if only to prevent somepony from snapping a photo of him presenting his weapon from entering circulation, he backed away. A reasonable or more prudent man would have excused himself outright, but he wouldn’t - couldn’t abandon her. He clamped his eyes shut and focused on the most unattractive, homely creatures his mind could conjure. His strategy to calm himself and quell his rampaging hormones only barely worked, although there was the root of the problem to deal with. Peering over at her, fully prepared to politely tell her why she couldn’t wear the standard issue armor, he flinched when she brought her snout to the side of his head. “You’re jealous,” she hotly breathed. “W…what?” he balked, throwing himself away from her. Remaining where she was, heedless or uncaring that townsponies were gradually amassing around her, she snickered. “It’s obvious that you feel upstaged by manning your post alongside a fully armored mare.” The absurdity of her assertion was only countered by the fact that she was as mobile as she was. With a smile on her muzzle, plate of cake in her hand, and plates of burnished steel sliding and digging into her soft flesh, she towered over him in all her resplendent glory. She may have been completely wrong with her assumption about his qualms, and she looked like champion of depravity in her getup, but fuck if she wasn’t easy on the eyes. “Don’t feel too bad, Anon,” she continued, casting her head to one side and sending her mane flipping over her shoulder. “I assure you, you look quite imposing.” The sudden self-consciousness was a mixed blessing; on one hand, it cleared his head from the improper notions assailing him - on the other, he felt bad because she’d actually made a bit of a point. Compared to her, he looked like a kid playing soldier. He snorted and shied away, hefting his halberd and preparing to defend his honor. While he might not have been a colossus in what was effectively a steel-plated bikini, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Spinning the polearm around and leaning forward, he twirled his weapon over himself in a display of his martial prowess. His tenure at the Canterlot castle had seen him pick up a number of different skills, not the least of which being how to properly use weaponry. He finished his exhibition with flourish, planting the bladed end in the earth while leaning against the shaft. The growing crowd that had gathered around were impressed, clapping and taking photos of him while he gave a bow. It hadn’t been his intention to put on a performance for anypony other than his waning dignity, but he’d be lying if he said the cheers didn’t bolster his confidence. Celestia studied him and nodded. “Somepony’s been practicing when I’m not around.” Pulling the halberd free, he kicked its head and flipped it right side up. “Thanks. I don’t get the chance too often these days, but a few of the guards took me under their wings and showed me the ropes.” Her eyes lit up as she threw one leg back and sank to the earth. “Interesting - I’ve done a bit of that myself…” She summoned a little portal, thrust her hand through it, and withdrew a broadsword that was as gargantuan as it was stunning. The platinum blade, traced with gold filigree and bearing a jeweled pommel, must have been worth a fortune - on top of that, it was the first time Anon had seen the damn thing! Deftly rolling it over her knuckles, she extended her wings to either side of herself, shot up, and swung the priceless, ornate weapon to the heavens. “Behold,” she boomed, silencing the throng and everypony within a half-mile radius, “the Guardian of Light has -” Ping - Tink - Clang Her proclamation went unfinished as most of her armor exploded off her body and clattered to the ground around her feet. For a moment, she glanced down at herself in quiet consternation, past the chain mail draped over her now freed bosoms and to the silvery plate scattered around her, before all hell broke loose. Everypony with a camera began jockeying for position, each scrambling to get a perfect shot of the nearly naked alicorn, while others stared and seared the image of her into their minds. His fears that she’d forgone wearing a bra for some godforsaken reason were proven wholly warranted. Sharply contrasted against the pure white of her coat and the glinting rings of steel over her bust, two very vivid, very erect points attracted a great many eyes from those gathered around her. Why - why in the name of all that was holy had she not put on a brasserie?!? Cold metal against such sensitive bits of flesh couldn’t be comfortable ~ could it? In defiance of their lack of support, her breasts were absolute perfection - the flawless excellence a sculptor would weep over and aspire to capture in stone.  Even Anon, who’d seen in less, was too overwhelmed by the spectacular view by the accidentally lewd demonstration. Her chest was virtually bare, the pose she’d stricken was breathtaking, and she looked like she’d jumped out of a dubious fantasy poster. It was only when the frothing, smitten mob drew nearer, inching closer to the former Princess, did he leap into action. Jumping forward and hugging her leg, he beat his hands against her thigh. “Pineapple pizza!” The seemingly odd phrase was a fail-safe, something only to be used in only the most dire of emergencies, and it was only the second time he’d had to use it since coming to Equestria. The two words, while harmless alone, worked to shocking effect. With her horn already glowing, she lowered her arm and met his eyes. “Pineapple pizza!” he urged again. In a blink, she disappeared with him holding her leg and reappeared in the warm, welcoming confines of a log cabin. “Honestly, was that really necessary?” He shook off his disorientation and stumbled away from her. “Yeah - yeah, I’d say so?” Folding her arms over her chest, she turned her nose up. “Well it’s your fault…” “My…My fault?!” he shouted. “How the hell is putting on a strip show my fault?!” “Because you were trying to one-up me,” she harrumphed, peeking over at him with a single eye. “Princess or not, I’ll not have you making a mockery of me.” Face-palming harder than he ever had in his entire life, he was at a loss for words. How - how could she be this dense! She’d been the one who’d outshone him everywhere they went - moreover, he hadn’t thought it was ok to go out with his naughty bits spilling out of his attire! Hoping to distract himself from her buffoonery and killer body, he glanced over to a nearby window. The lodge in which they stood was a shelter, a fallback position for when shit really hit the fan, and it was fitted with all the amenities and creature comforts fitting of nobility. There was food enough to last for several months, plenty of books to read, and a squad of elite praetorians were stationed at the remote locale just in case it needed use. Anon turned, stormed over to a sofa resting against one wall, and snatched up a folded comforter. “Here,” he groused, tossing Celestia the blanket. “I need a drink.” Catching the cover and draping it over her shoulders, Celestia regained a bit of her modesty and watched him meander over to the kitchen. “Drinking on the job is expressly forbidden, Anon.” “And so is showing your - you know what, never mind,” he grumbled, pulling a bottle of brandy from a cabinet. Taking out two snifters, he poured them each a measure. “We’ll try again tomorrow.” “Tomorrow?” she quipped. “But we only just -” “Listen, I have an idea,” he stated, offering her a glass. “Since you’re quite the showmare, there’s something I know you’ll be good at.” She stopped herself mid-sip and eyed him. “I’m listening…” Fully prepared to explain himself, he pursed his lips. “I’ll tell you after you get dressed.” “Ugh -” she groaned, rolling her head back and petulantly stomping a foot, “fine!” As she trotted deeper into the cabin, off in the direction of the master bedroom, his machinations began to coalesce. He hadn’t lied to her, he really had devised a scheme that may be foolproof, but he’d need some time to pull it off. Swirling his glass, he gazed into the brandy and chuckled. While armor may struggle to contain Celestia’s bounteous physique, there was one material that would be able to contain her supple curves, heavy chest, and titanic ass - ensorceled spandex…