A while ago you write some stories about Wonder Woman being a MLPFIM fan at a con. Could you do another one please since fics are open?
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“Oh geez, Thanks!”
I tried.
I tried so very, very hard to smile.
But I was on hour six of signing. My wrist and cheeks screamed in agony. I forced it all the same despite the squeal of pain from my lips. This person, they had probably waited in line at least an hour. At least. All for this. Five seconds of my time, and a pic to share on twitter.
When they reached in to put their arm around me, I tried not to recoil.
I reminded myself that I’d been like that. Less than three years ago, even. But that was before Fallout Equestria: Animated. That was a thousand takes ago-when I voice acted half the cast. Before the law suits (we won, by the way). Before the patreon, the ko-fi, the pitches for Dollar Shave Club and whatever crap we were pushing this month. I’d been just another dude in line. Waiting for a pic with my favorite artist.
“Smile everypony!” they said, their body heat radiating off of them. I grinned as wide and genuine as I could muster. They squealed, and clapped their hands. “Oh, thankyouthankyouthankyou Mister-”
“Dave,” I said. The words dripped with practice, “Just Dave works,”
They squealed. Again. That time, I came damn close to flinching. But I held it in, and they finally walked away. As they strode off, I realized something. The line behind them was gone. Completely empty. I gave a sigh, and pressed my head to the desk. I sat there, the plastic still warm from the constant placing of merch. I closed my eyes, and took a deep breath.
“Davey? You okay man?” came a voice.
I gave a grunt, and turned my head to the side. Above hands that clutched papers, Tom looked down at me. He pushed his glasses up, and pursed his lips. “You okay? Need some water or something?”
“Tom, please tell me we’re done. And if you can’t do that, give me Advil,” I sputtered out.
Tom-my best friend turned manager-glanced down at the papers in his hand. His green eyes flicked across the page, and to my chagrin he looked back up. “So how many Advil are we going to need?”
“Bleh. Gimme two,”
“Can do chief,” he said. He plopped the papers down in front of me, and tapped them. I didn’t lift my head. Tom waited a moment before he continued.
“After that though, I’m going to need you in ten. Then at nine tonight we’ve got the gala, and while you don’t have to trot? It would be good if you at least made an appearance, okay? Can you do that for me?”
“You already know the answer. Advil?” I said, holding up my hand.
Tom reached into his pocket, and twisted the top off a thin tube. He put two small red pills in my hand, and pulled a bottle of water from behind his back. I downed them both, and we stood there in silence for just a second. I glanced around the convention floor. Things were starting to shut down all around. Artists and vendors were putting their tables up. The cosplayers-those paid to be there, I mean-were long gone. Food crews and the like were carting off.
By nine o’clock, the place would be decked in LEDs. Techno music and fandom mashups would be blasting ten years worth of hearing off people. Drinks were going to spill onto velvet wings. As the evening went on, it would only get bigger and louder.
“Dave? Hey man, you there?”
I blinked, and looked back up. I gave a quick nod, one that Tom returned as he tapped the papers again. “Anyways, if you’re with us, I need you to freshen up and be ready in five. You’ve a very, very important guest-remember?”
I gave a groan, and rubbed the circles under my eyes. “That fandom package actually sold? Seriously?”
“Yep. Sure did. And they paid in cash-by courier, no less. Weird, huh? They didn’t leave a name or anything, but wanted you to be-” Tom said, picking up the papers again. His eyes flicked, and then he looked at me with measured calm. “-in front of the penthouse elevator for the hotel. You can ask reception where that’s at. I’ve not the faintest idea,”
I crossed my arms, and felt my brow furrow as I looked up at him. “Sooooo let me get this right. You want me-one of the biggest VAs in the fandom-to meet some random person in a secluded spot. Probably alone. Because money,”
Tom smirked, and gave a nod. “Can’t pay for studio equipment with the power of friendship. Chief, look-it’s probably just some high-brow whosawhatsit with a lot of money. Or it could be a scouting agent for all I know. Point is, nobody tosses THAT much money at a con. Unless they OWN the con. Okay? It’ll take maybe five, ten minutes at most. Just show up and do some voices. You can do that, can’t you man?”
“Do I have a choice?” I blurted before thinking. At this, Tom snorted.
“Oh, totally. You always have a choice. A career or none,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, and pulled back from the plastic table with a groan. “Ten minutes, okay? That’s it. I need a nap before the dance,”
“Sure, just ten,” said Tom, “ten minutes, and then we absolutely burn what they paid at a bar. Deal?”
“Deal,”
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It’s funny.
When you’re at a con, the entire place seems so alive. There’s the low roar of conversation omnipresent no matter where you are. Vendors shouting deals. Famous people doing pitches (I’d done three while I was here). The scuffle of feet, the constant traffic of janitors, sanitation people, organizers chirping away on walkie-talkies. If the con takes place in a hotel (most do), you can hear it on the second floor. This low hum, it can travel out into the street.
So when you find silence, it’s funny. Funny and damned scary when you’re alone, you’re a known name, and you’ve nowhere else to go.
I’d heard horror stories my entire career about stalkers. The first few seasons, I really had nothing to worry about. I mean, we were a fan made cartoon. A niche one at that. But when the lawsuit came from Hasbro, well.
It was the best and worst thing that had ever happened. We almost went bankrupt. Then we had more eyes on us than we ever had. Mostly friendly.
Mostly.
Tom and me, we still needed money. So we decided to do the con circuit. North America, a few places in Europe. Wherever we were invited, we went. I signed and was the face. Tom-the artist, the real reason Fallout Equestria existed at all-he ran behind the scenes. The fact we were fans before we made it helped a lot. People were nice. Sometimes too much. Those stories I’d heard, they came back to the forefront of my mind every time we landed in an airport.
We had put the fandom package up as a joke. Even done a promotional video where I was by the fire. Sitting there, in some red velvet lounge jacket. I’d closed a copy of War and Peace Tom had brought, and stuck a pipe in my mouth. I smirked as I looked right into the camera, and said something that made me cringe even now.
“Sure, you’re a brony-but are you a baller?”
Tom had spun it as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They weren’t buying time with me-they were ensuring we could keep producing content. That we could buy new equipment, that we could keep giving to the community that had given so much to us. Then he slapped a price tag on it.
Ten. Thousand. American dollars. An astronomical number, one we were endlessly called out on. But Tom kept spinning, kept playing it up as a date with “a special some pony”. I tried to stay out of it-I’d almost forgotten about it entirely. It wasn’t ever going to work, I’d told myself. Especially after we told people they couldn’t pool the money.
Here I was though. In front of a penthouse elevator, suddenly all too aware of how sweaty I was. How underdressed I was for whoever could afford a penthouse suite, and ten grand. I stood there, hands in my pockets, always glancing. The penthouse elevator was at the end of a long hall-I’d had to show ID just to be allowed near it. The security guard working, he’d just smirked. He pointed and said “Have a real gallop of a time Sir,”
I’d almost spit at the guy. But I didn’t. Appearances, appearances always. And I was ten grand richer for it. So I smiled, and stood in front of the elevator. I pulled my phone out of my pocket-I’d been waiting a grand total of fifteen minutes. I gave a sigh, and slipped it back when I heard the doors part behind me.
Oh god.
So they WERE in the penthouse suite.
I took a breath. I flicked a switch in my brain, the one labeled “MEDIA PERSONALITY”. I closed my eyes, and turned as my cheeks ached into a smile. I didn’t know what to expect-I didn’t have to, really. Almost every single fan was the same. Same hair, same stature, same awkward excitement. Money couldn’t, and wouldn’t, change that.
But as my eyes opened, the voice of Shining Armor peeling from my tongue?
My voice fell flat. For the first time in almost five years I croaked. I stood there, jaw slack as I looked on completely dumbstruck.
“You’re Dave! Oh my goddess, I’d know you from anywhere!”
“Yeah uh, that. Uh. That would be me,” I stammered.
There was a squeal, then darkness as two massive biceps wrapped around me.
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People sometimes get the wrong idea.
Tom and I, they think we stay in only the best rooms. That we sip champagne and ride first class to every con.
I can’t tell you how many times we slept in our car. The lawsuit from Hasbro nearly wiped us both out. There had been the GoFundMe a few fans set up, sure. It had helped with legal fees, but Tom and I still had to work day jobs. We still had to book the cheapest rooms, and ate fast food instead of steak dinners. As famous as the fandom thought we were?
We were still two guys just putting stuff on YouTube. A platform pretty hellbent on giving us DMCA strikes every time we put something up. I’d never seen the inside of a penthouse suite. Just getting convention organizers to book us a room took pleading. That’s including the times we were the biggest guests.
So simply going up that elevator, I was in shell shock. I hadn’t expected it to happen. I figured I’d give a hug, do a few lines from a favored episode. Then I’d make my way back to my room, and that would be it. Ten thousand dollars for roughly ten, fifteen minutes top of time.
But then the doors closed. They let out a woosh as they came together, and the elevator rode silently up.
I couldn’t stop staring.
I hated that too. Because it was something that-when done to me at least-made me shrivel. But I couldn’t stop. Even after she pulled out her phone, and leaned in for a picture.
“Oh, Wally is going to be so jealous! You’re his favorite too,” she said.
“O-Oh? Whose Wally?” I’d asked.
She just smirked, and snapped the shot. Then she pulled away with a grin, her thumbs tapping away at her phone. I had to crane my neck just to see her face.
One that was so familiar, it dwarfed anything Tom or I had accomplished. Anything ANYONE had accomplished. I tried to think of something to say-maybe a line from an episode, anything. Every time I opened my mouth though, I just kept croaking.
In a con shirt and jeans, she would have looked right at home on the convention floor. Aside from her height, I could have passed her and never known. But it was still her-from the top of her dark hair to her muscled calves. I mean, it had to be. I pulled out my phone, and tapped a quick search.
There weren’t any other cons this week except for mine. No comic book cons, especially. I scrolled and scrolled, still thinking this had to be a trick. Some kind of cosplayer, some kind of-
“Dave? Is everything okay?”
I looked up, all too aware again of how much I was sweating. I rolled my tongue over my lips, and cracked a smile. “Oh, uh. Yeah, everything is fine. I’m just. Well-are you her? Like, the real her? It’s not just makeup and stuff, right?”
There was a pause, and then the buff woman before me busted out laughing. Not a polite chuckle-a deep, bass laugh that reverberated in the elevator. “You know, you wouldn’t believe how many times I hear that at cons. Yes Dave, it’s really me. Is that weird for you?”
I felt a lump build in the back of my throat. My brain was on fire as I shook my head, and forced a grin. “Nope, not at all. Just-very, very surprised as all. You don’t strike me as the kind that watches cartoons. Or, uh-fan works, for that matter,”
When she grinned, I felt my entire body warm. “Oh, there’s a lot people don’t know. Cons are how I relax. It’s funny-I spend all my time rescuing people, but being here? It’s really the only time I have to just be around them, you know? I’m sure you know-with the series taking off and everything,”
“Oh that? Oh, hah-” I chuckled. I cut a glance to the brass walls surrounding us, and saw how red my cheeks were. “-I mean yeah, I totally get that. But what I do is so, just…”
I trailed off, words failing me again. I swallowed, and took a breath.
“It’s just really meager compared to you. I don’t help people. Not like you,”
“Who says that you don’t?”
I glance up at her, and finally meet her eyes. My neck pops as I do so, but I don’t pay it any mind. It’s the sound and the pain, it’s so far away that I’m only vaguely aware of it. I try to say something, but then she laughs again and I fall silent.
“You don’t have to wear tights to help people, Dave. What you and Tom produce? It makes me laugh. Sometimes, that’s more than enough to keep people going. That’s really why I wanted to meet you. To tell you that,” she said.
“I-well, thank you. That means-” I pause, my throat seizing. I can feel my eyes start to sting, but I hold it back. “-that means a hell of a lot coming from you Wonder Woman,”
This massive woman before me, she just snorts. She wags a finger, her smirk widening as our elevator comes to a stop. “Diana, please. I’m not working right now, okay? And besides, my reasons for being here aren’t totally altruistic,”
The doors part, and she turns to me. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip, and she grins as she bends to meet my face.
“So. How good are you at giving fan scripts a read?”
I finally laugh, warm and genuine. My fingers trail through my hair, and I give her a smile. “God, for you? Anything,”
Diana stands, her spine straight as she steps forward. The hall here, it terminates in a single gilded door. “Good-that’s what I like to hear, Dave. Come with me, okay? You’re not in a hurry, right?”
“None at all, Wo-Diana. I meant Diana,” I reply.
She giggles, and I fall in step behind her. She reaches into her jeans, and pulls out a slim plastic card.
“Oh, it’s okay,” she says, “I hear it all the time. Besides-we’ll be going through quite a few names in a moment. Won’t we?”
When she said that, it was like a question mark appeared above my head. But if Diana noticed or cared, she didn’t give that away. She slid the card through a magnetic lock, which clicked. She slipped the key back into her pants, and turned towards me as she gripped the knob.
“Ready to have some fun?” she said, her tone warm as a summer breeze.
I smiled, and gave a nod. The door slid open noiseless, and closed just the same.
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Okay, so it’s not like I’m unaware of THAT side of the fandom. I mean, hell. Tom spun every promo we made towards that angle. I wasn’t a bad looking guy, but couple that with my voices? Almost all of our marketing worked on sex appeal. Fallout Equestria: Animated had some themes of it, sure. But we never directly talked about it. Flirted with it, sure. Why not, right? But to straight up produce porn of us or what we did? Well.
It wasn’t that we hadn’t discussed it. Just that after Hasbro, we figured we’d keep things clean. Clean as we could for a series about nuclear war and guns. Youtube already demonetized us enough as it was-and it’s not like we could turn to anywhere else. Doing that meant starting from the ground up all over again. Neither of us had that kind of time. To say we were unaware of it, though? Yeah. That’d be a lie. Sometimes things got a little crazy at cons. More than a few fans drew porn and sent it to us. We would laugh about it in the office together, and just keep going.
Once or twice, I’d done some private voice work for people on the grounds they DIDN’T tell me what they did with it.
Can’t pay rent on the power of friendship, right?
But to look inside that penthouse, I was immediately struck by two overwhelming facts.
There is no way in hell I would ever be successful enough to stay somewhere like this. Not now, not ever.
That script diana was going to have me read?
It wasn’t the typical fan script.
The room was absolutely gorgeous. Marble statues of Greek gods lined the walls. Tapestries hung from stands, all the way to a tiled marble floor. Columns rose to the ceilings, and the furniture. Christ, I’d never seen something I was actually afraid to sit on. But it was the massive table-a polished white stone affair-that drew my eyes right away. On it was a plate of dark, massive grapes piled high. A binder, not unlike what other fans had given me their works in. Beside the binder laid two neat costumes on hangers. One that looked very much like a vault suit-complete with a number, and battle wear.
The other? It was spikes. Pauldrons, stop signs that had been welded into rough armor. It was far, far too big to fit a normal person. But where the codpiece should have been was-
“Make yourself comfortable! Spread out, get relaxed. Can I maybe get you some wine?” said Diana.
I tore my eyes away from the table. Static electricity rolled down my spine as I blinked, and shook my head. “Uh, no. No thank you. Water if you have it,”
Diana laughed, and made her way towards a standing sink. She grabbed a crystal glass from a glass shelf, and filled it. As she brought it towards me, she caught me staring at the table. She leaned forward, and put the glass before me.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one,”
I took the glass, a nervous laughter escaping my throat. “I uh, I mean of course. I totally have. I just haven’t seen one-in the wild,” I said. I gulped down the water, and tried to look back up at her.
I came right at about breast level with her. Breasts that were thrust close to my face as she crossed her arms beneath them. I craned my neck as I drained the glass and twitched my lips into a smile.
“I uh-I take it that one is mine? The-super mutant costume, right?”
Diana’s smile didn’t waver as she shook her head.
“No, if it was alright, I figured you’d reprise your role as Fisk? The fresh vault guy from season two? I mean, I know he wasn’t a super popular character, but I really enjoyed him. Quite a lot,” she said. The last three words were accentuated by her tongue rolling along her lips. I felt my face drain for a moment-but all that blood rushed right down.
I thought then of all the things that could happen in this room. I could say no. I could turn around, walk away right now. That was totally an option. I could ride the elevator back down, and go right to my room. My bed was waiting. I had nowhere to be until the gala tonight. Tom and I, we had already been paid. I’d only promised ten minutes of my time, nothing more.
But when my lips parted, I answered with something a bit more primal than logic.
“Sure, I can do that,” I said. I smiled then, and sat my glass down. I walked over to the table, and lifted up the vault suit. It was strange holding it-it felt like canvas, with all the accents and piping. Like it was the real deal. Not something crafted in a parent’s sewing room over a few months. I removed the hanger, and pulled the zipper down. I turned to Diana, who watched with her arms crossed.
“Got a dressing room?” I said with a smirk.
Diana splayed her arms, and twirled in a small circle around the room. By the time she turned to face me, I was already out of my shirt. My pants followed-though I kept my boxers on for the time. When I pulled the zipper up again, I turned back towards her. She grinned with something between genuine joy and a fan girl’s ecstasy.
“Does it fit? Like, it’s not too tight anywhere? I had to have my friend Bruce guess your measurements based on pics,” she said.
I laughed, and patted the Vault Tec logo on my chest. “Actually, yeah. Fits perfect. This is really comfy-what exactly is this made of?”
Diana didn’t answer. Instead, she walked towards the table. She gripped the edge of her shirt with one hand, and slid the binder over with the other. “Take a look if you want. I already know my lines. You’re good with improv, aren’t you?”
I picked the binder up, and turned my back as her shirt hit the ground. “Pffft, absolutely. Half our after-shows are improv,” I said. I opened the binder. My eyes trailed over the stage directions, the dialogue and more. As I turned the page, I felt my jaw grow slack. I kept reading-right up until I felt a firm smack against my ass.
A very particular smack. Not like a hand or a heel, but one that felt shaped just like the massive toy on the table.
I shut the binder, and swallowed hard. I tried to will the tightening of my pants away as I turned. As I did, the flared end of a massive stallion cock met my bulge. Poking it, prodding it. Pressing against it as the amazonian came closer.
Her costume hid very, very little.
With her hands at her hips, I stared right into Diana’s musculature. I trailed my gaze upwards, well past the STOP sign turned paldron. Diana smiled, her hair twisted into a bun. It was held in place with a bone pick, one I couldn’t tell was real or a prop. She smirked, and spoke in a booming, guttural bass.
“Puny pony think he stronger than me? Grom the strongest in all Equestria!”
She smacked a hand against her chest, a loud thud echoing in the room.
Now, under normal circumstances, I’d stammer. I’d pause, I’d get flustered. I was never good at talking to people. The way I was at cons, on the air? It was all an act. A switch I flipped in my head. So that’s precisely what I did.
I flipped the switch again, and smirked as Fisk’s tenor voice came rolling from my throat.
“Oh yeah? What’s a mutant know about the moon queen? I’ll beat you, mister! You and your-“
I dropped the line-dropped it like my gaze as I looked upon the massive toy yet again. Diana had taken a step closer, and the head was past my navel. She laughed in a voice that wasn’t hers-but that of her role. She gripped the plastic girth, and smacked it right against my stomach.
“Grom cares not for queen or king. But can still make heirs,” she said.
Another smack, this time against my tented cock. I winced, and let out a gasp that was far more Fisk than me. I tried to clear my head, tried to think of what he would do. Fisk, the cowardly dude we’d wrote as a joke.
Fisk, the pony everyone had coded as a twink.
The pony everyone had sent us porn of.
It hit like a thunderbolt then, just what Fisk would do. Just what Diana wanted him to do. So I looked up at her, face screwed with determination as I took a knee. I gripped the horse cock, smacking it right against my face with a smirk.
“Hah! I’ve fought mirelurks with bigger dicks than you, pal!”
Diana let out a snarl, her fingers curling over my scalp.
I opened wide, wider than I ever had.
I gave the role of a lifetime.