Wherever the lifeguards of the Rubout Brigade preside on duty as they long-since have the whole realm over, everybody playing on their watch does best if they do so by the rules, what with the fate of all who neglect, refuse or otherwise fail to abide being the name of the very game itself on any and every modern beach scene: death by suntan lotion.

For those interested in greater aspirations than simply surviving or even merely thriving, most namely joining the ranks of their overladies and gaining an ever-coveted say in who lives and who lotions, the primary means of entry are readily available at regular intervals through the Rubout tryout program, where any given candidate's only obstacles to admission come in the form of her every fellow candidate in the running. Per the Brigade's deviously deliberate designs, and very much openly-so, only a single winner is chosen for recruitment among each competing lineup; the consolation prize awarded uniformly to dead-last and runner-up alike as well as every girl in-between: death by suntan lotion.

The trending practice of known prominent cliques and otherwise closely-associated groups, often from noted professional backgrounds, opting in for a collective go on the tryout stage with the understanding that only one of them can survive and the impression that their sacrifice will be worthwhile so long as said exception does in fact survive and go on to enjoy the glory sought by her late friends-turned-rivals has been well-recognized by the Rubout Brigade's leadership for some time now in having indeed determined the outcomes of a near-majority of recruitment events since its emergence. The general public has picked up on the pattern just as well, hence its validation to the point of being seen as the standard, although not so much on the particular approach's inefficiency when most groups involved have proven skilled enough across the board for two or more members to have made the cut if only they'd had the patience to apply for different tryouts.

The latest lineup to hit the circuit: the sexy sextet of classically self-styled B.F.F.s Rainbow Dash, Twilight Sparkle, Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie; while forfeit-collection is performed by all lifeguards in attendance more-or-less simultaneously for all losers in need of lotioning, Fluttershy, as the party's bottom-ranking ostensible contender and the all-around clear weakling among lifelong gal pals, is the first to have her tan finalized with her penalty game played out to completion, and Pinkie Pie, placing just above her, is next afterward to sigh and shudder her last in succumbing to the sexiness of sunbathing. Ever the playful party girl, Pinkie has entertained the treatment of this whole endeavor as nothing too serious throughout the weeks leading up to the big day, frequently teasing her friends over their upcoming dates with the ultimate in beach blanket basking's summertime hotness and claiming her preferred hopes of tending to each of their tannings personally despite a win allowing her to commence her new duties with but one of her opponents. Now, as she faces the reality of her own turn for a tumble across the tanning towel, Pinkie's disappointment, surprise and overall mortal terror are evident, but she continues trying to maintain her usual appearance of carefree attitude all the same; an admirable display noted by Lifeguard Kim Pine as the dutifully no-nonsense executioness sees to Miss Pie's perilously pampered pleasuring in reasonably gentle fashion throughout the application process. Come her execution's culmination, Pinkie's mind has plainly been shattered well-past the point of her fate's gleeful acceptance no longer being any sort of act as she wholeheartedly rides the wave of her gorgeously glistening climax unto orgasmic obliteration and slumps flatly backward to lay cutely sprawled in eternally radiant repose with a blissfully embraced smile frozen across her blushing face forevermore.