With the full roster of contestants standing at anxious attention to hear their verdict's announcement, scantily bikini-clad bodies are passionately gleaming across the board from their preceding efforts as the tryout program has seen its latest applicants, just like all others before and surely since, putting in the workout of their lives both physically and mentally over the majority of the sun's daily prime-shining hours. All six pertinently leading ladies are visibly pleased to hear each unfamiliar name in the running called out prior to any of theirs amid the countdown from dead-last to dead-second before the winner is declared, confirming their overall group's endeavor a success. Individual elation at the sense of collective triumph, though, takes a backseat to resumed apprehension immediately afterward when only one girl can bring home top honors here, to say nothing of going home at all as predicated upon leaving the local Brigade base alive, and knowing one's sacrifice not to be a total waste can only be of so much consolation for a lotioned woman given the bottom line of what she faces all the same. As her other four friends are then listed off by what placements seal their fate as such to varying reactions from each, nerve-racking tension mounts rapidly for Twilight Sparkle, coming to a head and pushing the very limits of what stress she can stay outwardly composed through with the official decision about to be called between herself and Rainbow Dash. Twilight silently braces in anticipation of the worst and preparation to accept her final reward in keeping with the sporting standard shown by the rest of the tryout's towelbound and especially-so from her own circle, having recognized Rainbow from their gambit's get-go as by far the likeliest thereof to outdo her if anybody was ever going to, and although she'd maintained her idea of reasonable confidence up until this point that her own victory was the much more probable outcome, any sense of assurance falters fast with the moment of truth now at hand.

Rainbow Dash, meanwhile, stands as unflinchingly proud as ever in awaiting what particular judgment she trusts she's demonstrated every manner of prowess needed for securing in her favor well enough and then some for her win to be a lock, and only even more-so following Applejack's third-placed pronouncement, perceiving the rough-tumbling farmhand as her own main rival worth worrying about if any of her fellow participants in this affair had to be designated as such a serious threat. Knowing her strengths as a lifeguarding candidate and otherwise to lie squarely within the athletics department fully well while being rather less sound in her understanding of what other areas of discipline are valuable for in the kind of game she takes the Rubout recruitment routine for, Rainbow is quick to note Twilight's performance as exceeding her expectations to be seeing the studious figurehead of their clique finish in supposed second, and split seconds short of verbally commending Miss Sparkle on a valiant effort in giving her a presumably harder-fought run for her money than she'd come here counting on when Lifeguard Saturday resumes speaking to reveal the event's ultimate result with all the authoritative aura to be expected from its foremost-presiding mistress. The next name called: Rainbow Dash's own, whose bearer fails to readily process what its utterance in this moment means, narrowly averting her instinctively self-congratulatory would-be response to what she'd been quite certain it would signify before being likewise cut off from questioning for confirmation of her win by the announcement of Twilight Sparkle's name with unique enthusiasm alongside her plainly-stated identification as the claimant of victory in today's tryout and the accompanying license to lotion she'll be henceforth authorized and indeed compelled to exercise as the Rubout Brigade's latest certified agent of lethally luxurious beach justice. The last order of business requiring resolution here as to making things official, as a matter of course, is the lifeguarding newcomer's initiation ritual proper through suntan servicing's provision to her inaugural client; a distinction that tradition dictates should be reserved for her closest competition in the running for recruitment. Twilight Sparkle, naturally, is far from the type to go bucking such a true-tried trend for any particular reason when she's always made a point of appreciating all her friends more-or-less equally for their assorted virtues and regards each of the group as amply attractive and then some for purposes of what honors she's about to do in terms of all they'll be good for once the sexiness of suntan lotion is through with their forfeits' fulfillment. Yet, no possible preference partial enough to see Twilight opting for another voluptuous victim to vanquish in verifying her victory would leave Rainbow Dash faced with any less dead of an end for the difference; she still loses either way, and the full-body, full-bottle consequences thusly incurred will be every bit as absolute whether they be applied by a friend, an experienced executioness or any other means for delivering her massaged mortality. After all and as any ambitious beach babe ought to consider before stepping out for fun in the sun at this level of play, losers therein get lotioned, and among everybody here, Rainbow Dash is easily the last one who should try claiming any grounds to go raising objection to these terms which have now netted her a death sentence.

Twilight Sparkle's own reaction to the verdict in her favor, as considerable a surprise it makes for on her side of things, ends up sidelined in the big moment next to Rainbow Dash's concurrent outburst as the realization hits her, and remains obstructed from the center of attention where it's due by the breakdown's escalation for the embarrassingly protracted duration thereof. Rainbow's immediate sheer disbelief shifts swiftly to defiant questioning of the hostesses' judgment in demanding to know specifics of the scoring system no woman outside of the Rubout ranks - let alone a lotioned woman like herself - has any business being let in on, then devolves into stubbornly angered denial in similarly quick turn. Suffice to say that nobody is about to go having any of this hysterical bitching, least of all the star of this show now having her hard-earned victory soured by its runner-up's shockingly unsporting behavior as Twilight is the first to call Rainbow out on such, chiding in aptly-worded summation that "Dashie" has no excuse to so suddenly be like this when her other friends and the rest of their fellow contestants are all taking the ruling, while not uniformly without fuss, well enough by comparison, at any rate, and that she would just as well have submitted to the same repercussions as brought upon herself in the event of any differing decision. If Rainbow wasn't prepared to get suntan lotioned, that being the overwhelmingly likelier outcome than her survival by every statistical measure as a given from the get-go heading onto the tryout circuit, then she shouldn't have opted into their little clique's not-so-little pact… obviously, so Twilight goes on with awkwardly noted disappointment at her friend's need for this to be so bluntly spelled out at this stage of its (and her) endgame. It's seeming pretty fair to say as of right about now that Rainbow Dash is letting quite some contemptibly cowardly true colors show on her character in marked contrast to what amicably competitive spirit she'd consistently displayed all the way up until finding herself poised as she presently stands to assume a fatally more humiliating sort of color still per what rules define the high-stakes playing field she was always such an outspoken fan of. Readily sharing this sentiment for indeed knowing Rainbow equally well, the others in Twilight's group chime in agreeably, affirming the necessity for Dashie to shut up, suck it up and take her tanning like a big girl along with more generally congratulating the proven best of their sextet with all the best wishes for her new career as they let themselves be paired with their respective lotionesses and lead off to the towels for the forfeit-collection already starting to commence for the day's other dropouts as they speak. Reading the room at this point, Rainbow gives up in surrender to the sexy end she's in for soon enough, albeit while remaining the sorest loser among them, with the local overladies staffing the event noting the lack of intervention required on their part despite where things had just looked sure to be heading for the severity of Miss Dash's initial response.

Extending either hand downward, Twilight Sparkle proceeds to gracefully lift Rainbow Dash back up from where she's fallen to her knees, only to pull her tightly inward with suddenly sharp forcefulness directly thereafter, arm hooking firmly around her bested bestie's waist. Next the excessively streak-haired hothead can be bothered to make any sense of in the blindsided despondency she knows she'll not be bouncing back from, she lays flatly outstretched across the beach blanket designated as the spot for her sunbathing, with the friend deemed sufficiently superior for the honors of seeing Rainbow off to orgasmic oblivion by the absolute authority in matters of who lives to lotion who straddling straight above her in the traditionally quintessential fashion, resolutely seated shanks pressing subtly inward against trembling haunches. Seconds past this positioning, Twilight's hands descend in unison to make first contact with Rainbow's bare back; not their own in general, of course, but that of what perilous pleasure now infuses Miss Sparkle's touch, just as it will for purposes of many another naughty girl's addition to her body count provided she keeps up the kind of good work that's gotten her this far. So begins the service of Lifeguard Twilight Sparkle, and likewise with Rainbow Dash's ecchi execution as her inaugural prey, by which point their session is the last to come properly underway amongst the related suntannings simultaneously heating up throughout the vicinity. Observing as much, Twilight determines early on in Rainbow's rubdown that she'd better make sure it's the last lotioning here to come around to completion, and not just for compensation on account of any head starts afforded to the others, either. Indeed, Twilight isn't about to ease up in her efforts to demonstrate her talent and dedication to the Rubout Brigade for as soundly as she understands the amount of ground and skin she still has yet to cover before hitting the big leagues of lethal lifeguarding in the truest sense, nor is she keen on letting this go down all that easy for Dashie given all her painfully evident hesitance to let herself go down here at all. Still appreciating Rainbow all the same as a friend and as a worthy opponent to have beaten out in winning her license to lotion alike, though, Twilight has no interest in punishing her too harshly, saving all the hardcore techniques known from her studies thus far for future practice where it'll be warranted in her planned dealings with decidedly more deserving clientele. Ultimately, being the most physically seasoned of the circle does Rainbow more good for the sake of her sunbathing experience than where her prior bid to qualify for involvement on the flip side of the application routine was concerned as any difference in her massage's accentuated intensity goes effectively unnoticed, her outgoing ordeal making for exactly as bad a time as she'd expected. This in itself was admittedly only to be expected for Rainbow's lack of any adequate precedent for what to anticipate feeling via the suntan lotion treatment; a default naivety common to every woman whose sole means of being shattered inevitably sees one's entire mind following suit shortly after being enlightened in that regard. Come her finishing touches and final fit-bodied flexions amid the terminally climaxing convulsions swiftly elicited thereby, Rainbow Dash is surely enough the last casualty of today's tryout to have her forfeit fulfilled in full, and by a rather lengthy margin past the penultimately perishing participant's giving of her ghost, at that. By the time even the first of the fodder babes making up the bottom half of the ranking come around to going like so, though, Rainbow's own euphorically enveloped escalation proves much too far along in the mind-melting department for her to even notice as they each begin popping and dropping in rapid-firing succession between most; a mercy, no doubt, when it comes to beholding the other members of her own posse during the throes of their sequential sunbathings. Same said girls comprising Twilight's closest-knit of cliques just as well, the newly so-titled Lifeguard Sparkle is none too eager to watch them meet their fates as it happens either, ignoring her surroundings in a decidedly more deliberate capacity for avoidance of distress and distraction alike as her effort to seal Dashie's builds through steady stimulation unto its explosively exquisite natural conclusion. On reaching that point, Twilight gladly makes an exception to her distaste of seeing her friends die in real time for the consummate payoff of the job at hand for herself, well-done as she'd deem it safe to call both her own performance and the late Miss Dash once suntan lotion's supreme sexiness is through with putting in the last word on her.

Soon after this moment and the cooldown from all the satisfaction it entails, in the next and last worth recounting for this particular vignette, Twilight Sparkle stands victoriously over Rainbow Dash's body, now straightened out across her towel in reasonably seemly repose for her eternal display, along with those of Applejack, Rarity, Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie as they all lay lined up in similarly dolled-up fashion; befittingly-so for the dolls they indeed now are for all intents and purposes and will stay prettily preserved as forevermore. Seeing her friends in this state of fully realized sunbathing, properly settled and at peace in their pleasured rest, is far more palatable to Twilight's sensibilities than any potential sight even slightly suggestive of them suffering amidst the preceding process, but a considerable degree of sadness is predictably unshakable regardless. Tempting as her presently swirling emotions are making it to start entertaining regrets of some manner or another right about now, though, Twilight knows better than to go doubting her commitment when there's so plainly no going back from here, yet every reason for her to look forward with undivided focus heading into her coming tour of duty as a Rubout rookie for all the challenges she's likewise not about to go underestimating while they still remain ahead of her en route to what heights of gorgeous glory she's set out to attain in the Brigade's beautiful business of beach blanket bitch-busting.