//------------------------------//
// Rarity Makes a Ponequine: 
// Story: Rarity Makes a Ponequine 
// by Ponyess 
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Prologue, Making the Appointment for Rarity:


”I want to work for Rarity, or at the very least be seen in her Boutique; even if it means I have to become her Ponequine!” I ponder.

Can't say that I am rich or influential.  While I may scrape by and make ends meet; but that does not make for a fun or glorious life, here in Manehattan.  I want something more, something only Rarity could grant me; or, so I imagine in my growing frustration and desperation.

“Could I just trot into the Boutique, and ask Rarity in person?” I ponder.

If I am to ask Rarity in person, she needs to be in the Boutique in Manhattan.  While she does make appearances in her Boutique, she is not here very often.

I can trot past the windows of her Boutique and stare at her craft any day; just as I can enter the store and look at the suits close up, when the store is open.  Maybe I could ask when Rarity is going to be in, or even ask for the appointment?  I could always ask, if I am prepared for the inevitable rejection; in the vain hope she is actually accepting me. I could, and maybe I should go.

It is not as if I am not passing by the Boutique often enough, even casting glances at the store front and look at her show cased suits and dresses.

“What do I have got to lose?” I ponder, as I am trotting by the Boutique.

“Wasn't Rarity known for generosity?” I realize.

If she is generous, the worst she could do; is to turn me away or reject the request for her time.  Of course, this is exactly why I am offering myself to Rarity; and no other designer in the city.

I decide to take the chance; to see if Rarity is in, or if I could book a time to speak to her.  I step right in, since the door is open.

“How could I be of service?” Blue Bobbin inquires, a moment after I had stepped into the Boutique.

“I was hoping Rarity would be in!  Do you by any chance know when she will be at the Boutique?” I respond.

“I am afraid, Rarity is not in today!  She is not going to be in this month; she mainly deliver designs, to the Boutique!”she responds.

“Oh!” I respond, in disappointment; sighing.

“I could try to find a time, when she is back; or, you could try to find her at the Carousel Boutique, in Ponyvile!  She does live there and spends most of her time in Ponyvile!” Blue Bobbin responds.

“Ponyville?  A strange place, for a mare like Rarity to live!” I suggest.

“Rarity does own a Boutique in Canterlot, by the name of Canterlot Carousel; but she is not there, much more than she is her in Manehattan!  One could get used to the piece and quiet, if there is a reason to get out of town!” she offers.

“Maybe, I should try to see if I could see her in Ponyville, then!” I respond.

“If you need to see Rarity, and can't wait; that is your best chance!” she points out.

“Thank you, Blue Bobbin; then I will just have to go to Ponyville, in the hopes of finding Rarity, there!” I respond.

“You are quite welcome, and best of luck finding Rarity!” she responds.

“Thanks again, I guess I will see you again; particularly if she is not there!” I add; as I trot out, head held low in disappointment.

“Ponyville, of all places!” I ponder; “Now I really do hope, she is there; I can't afford to travel more!” I continue.

Trying to take the taxi is no point; if not for the time it takes to wait in line, it costs me bits for the luxury as well.  Bits I can not spend, right now.  Most likely, never.

“The traffic is killing me!” I mutter, under my breath; as I trot towards the station, in the hopes of catching the next train.

While the traffick is murder, the station is no reprive.  I do manage to get to the counter; after standing in line.

“A single ticket; to Ponyville, please!” I pronounce, as I finally do stand before the counter.

“Ten bits, please!” the mare behind the counter responds.

“Here you go, and thank you!” I respond, as I count the bits and slip them onto the counter before me.

“One ticket, to Ponyville; here you go!” she responds; slipping the bits under the counter, and slipping the ticket to Ponyville over.

I pick up my ticket, before I turn towards the trains; eagerly scanning the station, only to find the next train to my destination actually waiting for me.

“Now, what is the chance of that?  A train to my destination; waiting for me, as if I had been a VIP?” I ponder, scurrying towards the train as best I can, with all the ponies clogging the space.

I manage to sneak in, on the last train to my destination of Ponyville.  I managed to catch the train, I could afford myself to ignore the comfort; if I can see Rarity today.

Once I stand in the corridor of the carriage, it is surprisingly quiet. Maybe the commotion is all about catching the train, over anything else; they stand up or sit in comfort, which was all they had intended to do in the first place.

I present my ticket, and is left alone to wait for my station.  I enjoy the piece and quiet, I never was afforded within the city limit of Manehattan.  Maybe this, alone; would have been worth the effort of the trip to Ponyvile.

Each stop is announced on the speakers; and Ponyville is sure to be announced, soon enough.  Once the train stop in Ponyvile, I jump off and watch the doors close behind me.

“Maybe Ponyville is not quite as small and quiet, as I had been expecting?” I ponder, as I scan the surroundings, on my way to my destination.

The Carousel Boutique is easy to find; the name is more appropriate, than I had been expecting.  The building does indeed look, exactly like a carousel.  Curious, but it will make it easy to find.

I trot the last part of the way to the Boutique and slow down in order to make it in a measured gait.  This does have the advantage; of giving me just enough time, to catch my breath.

“A white unicorn with three blue diamonds for a cutie-mark!” I think, as I see the pony inside.


The Making of a New Ponequine:


”How may I help you?” I inquire, as the mare is entering my Boutique.

“Are you by any chance Rarity?” the mare responds.

“Yes, that is indeed me; I am Rarity, owner of the Carousele Bouutique!” I respond.

“Thank you, Rarity; then I have managed to find the place I was looking for!” she responds.

“Are you in need of a suit, accessories or anything else; to make you look your best?” I inquire.

“I would enjoy to look my best, in order to get the attention I had envisioned; but right now, I would hope you could make me into a Ponequine!” she responds.

“That is an odd request, but you would get your share of attention; I think I could squeeze you into my schedule and make room for you, as a Ponequine!” I answer.

“Thank you, Rarity!” she exclaims.

“Good thing, I am currently alone!” I ponder; “Right this way, I will see if we can't make a beautiful Ponequine out of you, today!” I continue.

She follows me, quietly and obediently; as if she had been a dog.  I even notice a measure of eagerness in her steps, as she is following me behind the boutique.

“Since I will need quiet, for this, I craft my Ponequines downstairs!” I explain, as I continue a flight of stairs down into the basement under the boutique.

“This room is indeed quiet!” she responds, as I close the door behind her.

“Since you asked me, to become a Ponequine; I know you will appreciate the quiet, as much as I am!” I explain.

I give her every chance to make sure she actually does want; what she had asked of me, before I get to the job.  If she wants it; I am too generous to refuse her now, but if she does not truly want it, I can't make her into a Ponequine.

Of course, I do have a selection of Ponequine stands in one corner of the room.  I have a large and comfortable gurney in the middle of the room; I point at it and motion for her to make herself comfortable, while I prepare for the work ahead.

“It, it is more comfortable; than I had been expecting, Rarity!” she blurts out, in surprise.

“I can't take any pleasure or joy from your discomfort; besides, it makes for a better looking Ponequine, if you are comfortable throughout the process!” I point out.

“Then I did indeed go to the right place!” she responds, as she is smiling back at me.

“I create fashion, out of passion; I do not produce it, for the bits it could generate!” I explain.

“Oh!” she merely exclaims.

“Make yourself comfortable; while this will take a while; it is kind of like going to the Spa!” I point out.

“I wish I could have enjoyed the luxury, before; but I guess, it is just as well I had not been there today!” she puts forth.

“If you have never had the fortune to experience a massage before, you are in for a treat!” I point out, giggling.

“Trust Rarity; with her generosity!” I ponder; “No, I never had the chance to experience it, even in the hectic city of Manehattan!” she responds.

“Then I will simply have to rectify that, right here and now!” I point out.

I can clearly see the mare before me doing her best, relaxing.  I pull out the can of relaxing clear massage gel, uncap it and place it onto a small table on her right.

Once the can is open, I dip my right and left hoof in the clear, highly viscous gel and starts applying it from  the lower edge of her mane.  In diminutive circles, I work the gel into her coat of fur and into the skin underneath it.  From the edge of her mane, I slowly and carefully continue; all the way down the length of her spine, to the root of her tail.  From there, I double back, continue all the way along the length of her main, until I reach her ears.

I leave her face untouched, for now.  Caressing the right and left side respectively in turn.  As I worked both the right and left side; I continue with the right fore-leg, all the way down to the hoof, before I repeat the process with the left fore-leg.  This takes me to her right hind-leg and her left hind-leg.

I turn her over and rub her belly in the same manner, before I work my way forwards and up her throat and up her muzzle.  I finally work her face over; from the forehead, down her muzzle and her cheeks.

"Oh!” she merely exclaim, as I turn her back onto her belly.

“How did that feel?” I inquire.

“Heavenly!” she exclaims; “Even Princess Celestia would love the chance to enjoy this!” she continues.

“I guess she would, but she does not have the hectic life of Manehattan to challenge her; yet she does also have the castle staff to rely on for this kind of service!” I point out.

Now I recap the can and extract the next one, with a new gel.  She will remain relaxed, from the effect of the gel I just applied to her.

Now I apply gel, that will keep her in position and maintain her pose and posture; for the process of making her into the Ponequine she had requested that I am making her into.

While she is incapable of moving her legs and neck; I pose her up; for the job she had applied for, that of being my Ponequine.

I pick up an enchanted zipper, apply it from the lower edge of her mane and all the way down the length of her spine; all the way to the root of her tail  At this point, I apply a coating of silicon white latex rubber of local production.

“There, I hope you are still comfortable!” I pronounce; more out of courtesy, than the expectation of her responding at this point.

With the Ponequine, prepared for her duties, I apply a special adhesive on the platform of the Ponequine support; before I apply the other component of the glue onto her belly.  With this out of the way; I levitate her up and press her down onto the Ponequine support.

A moment later; her belly has fused to the stainless steel of the Ponequine support.  I apply the final top coat of the Ponequine.

“There, one beautiful Ponequine!  I hope you will enjoy all the attention you will be given, in the window of my Boutique!” I exclaim.

“Of course, I could not sell her off to any pony else; even if the law may permit, me doing so!” I ponder.

I place the quilt on her pack, before I pick up the customary bridle for her head.  I make sure the bit fits perfectly within her mouth, before I adjust the bridle to the perfect, tight fit required.

“She will just need to rest here, a few days; before I can take her up into the store, so I can present her properly!  With something fitting to wear, in my window showcase!” I exclaim, explaining the situation.


A Ponequine's Day-Dreams:


My eyes had been left open; so that I can see where I am, and what is happening around me, but also for the purpose of making me look alive.  A Ponequine does not have closed eyes.

While my eyes are fixed in a gaze directly before me, I can still see most of the room; except the space directly behind my back.  This is the limit of equine vision.

The room is empty and void, once she cleaned up the room; after she accepted my request, to make me into her Ponequine.  As she trots up the flight of stairs, the light goes out and I am left in utter and complete darkness.

I am still perfectly relaxed and motionless, as the Ponequine, so I can't do or feel anything in my current situation.  In approximately an hour; or I think it should have been an hour; I fall asleep in the dark room.

I still see everything around me, even if that is nothing in the dark; just as I hear everything in the room, which is next to nothing in the now quiet room.  For a moment; I had felt the quilt she placed on my back, and the bridle and bit she placed onto my head.  Just that these sensations, soon faded away.  It is, as if these are part of me, my body; as a Ponequine, in Rarity's basement.

I do not breathe, and I do not close my eyes or even change focus in this room.  There is nothing to focus on.

“Why did she make me face the entrance of her Boutique?“ I ponder, as I am finding myself gazing into the eyes of a male Ponequine in the other window showcase.

As a Ponequine, I can't look away or avert my gaze in the very least; knowing it is the same, for him.  All assuming, the male Ponequine before me is indeed a living stallion inside.

There is no way for me to say, I can't ask.  Maybe it is all the same to me, in the end.  Yet, I still do feel my heart pounding; hard and fast, as if I had been?  Or that I?

He is wearing a very handsome suit, obviously.  Naturally; Rarity would afford him, nothing less.  I had been made, into wearing a matching suit or gown.  It is, almost as if we are at the wedding, being married.

“Why do I hear his heart, beating; hard and fast, just like mine?” I ponder, not knowing if I am imagining everything, or if he is infact quite real.

Behind him, I am picturing a colt; merrily prancing about in the way one expects a colt to act.  Is he in turn; picturing a filly prancing about, behind me?  Is either of the foals actually real, or possibly part of a future we are about to explore?

“Why did he choose to be come a Ponequine, for Rarity?” I ponder.

“What was his life before Rarity like?” I continue, curiosity piqued.

There is no answer, to my question and questions; I know it, but still can't make me stop wondering.

I wake up, as Celestia is raising her sun and falls asleep as she is lowering the sun; in order to make room for Luna to raise her moon.  The sun is raising and the sun is setting; the moon is raising and the moon is setting.  The clock of me as a Ponequine.  My companion, before me; reacting exactly like me, waking up as the sun is lighting up the window behind which we stand and fall asleep as it is not.

Two Ponequines, watchful and ever vigilant; despite the fact, none of us could move in order to save our lives, or speak up to say what transpire within the room and field of vision.

Ponies enter the store and watch us and Rarity's craft in awe.  Ponies purchase suits from the line Rarity is presenting, or order something they desire to wear.  Ponies leave the Boutique.  It is the day of a Poneqine.

Each week, she is giving me a new suit to wear; undressing me and then putting the new suit on me.  She gives the stallion before me a new suit, the very same night, each week.

If my suit is sold, he is undressed the same night; if his suit is sold, I am undressed the same night.  Just after she is closing the Boutique.  The next morning, we are once more wearing a matching suit.

Day after day, I am gazing into his eyes; incapable of averting my eyes, had I wanted to or tried to.  I guess it is part, of my duty as her Ponequine; even if nothing suggested it, before I signed up for this job.  I signed my freedom away, for the moment in the limelight; for Rarity to showcase me in her next suit.  I happily wear, what she is putting on me.

I know he can neither wink at me, nor blush; in part, due my very own inability, I am utterly incapable of even winking or blushing, myself.  If I could not wink or blush, how could he?  I still imagine him; blushing, winking at me when no pony is watching.  After the store is closed, and every pony has left the Boutique. I am of course deluding myself.  Yet, am I wrong; imagining him, feeling exactly the same?

While I can never avert my gaze or blink, could he?  How is he reacting on constantly gazing into my eyes?  Is he imagining me winking and blushing, too?

Am I making up silly stories, just to stroke my own ego? What if he is not interested in mares or a mare like me, but interested in stallions, like himself?  Is he interested in or dreaming of having a foal of his very own, right now?  If so, would he want me to give  his foal birth?  Or, would he rather not have a foal at all, just so that I am not the mare to give his foal birth?


Epilogue:


Rarity had undressed me, the day before.  She had left me disrobed and naked; all night.  Of course, I had not been particularly aware of it or bothered by sleeping nude.  As a pony; I had been sleeping nude each night; while it may have been more out of nesessity, than a conscious choice on my part.  Clothes cost bits, bits I did not really have enough to spare, on night wear.

If I had been paying attention, I would have known that the male Ponequine before me is also nude all night.  That never entered my mind.  Maybe I had been a Ponequine for too long; for this to actually register.  Most of my previous life, as a mare in Manehattan; is little more than a blur I can barely recall.  Why bother?

I do not live in Manehattan, and I am not a pony, but a Ponequine, now.  The life of a Ponequine does not really put me in the position of caring about the things I cared about, as a filly or mare.

I had been poked and prodded by ponies countless times, in my life as a Ponequine.  Rarity has disrobed and undressed me before her customers' countless times; I have seen her disrobing other Ponequines countless times, too.  Nothing special about that.

“Did the other ponies that are her customers even know; that I had been a pony once, born in Manehattan?” I ponder.

Does it matter, if they knew?

“How long does a Ponequine live?  Does time even flow, for a Ponequine like me?” I had been pondering.

Who were I, before I moved to Ponyville; as a Ponequine for Rarity?” I ponder.

As I wake up, I am no longer in the window showcase of the Boutique.  I can't see the stallion before me, either.

I am nude, not wearing anything.  Not even the quilt on my back, or the bridle on my face.  As I turn my head to the right, the quilt is resting on a different Ponequine, and my bridle is on her face, as well.

I feel strange, seeing the Ponequine wearing my quilt and bridle with bit and reins.  Am I possessive, of these items?

While I am a bit stiff, I can actually move and examine the room in which I am standing.  I am alone with this Ponequine, who is holding my place.

I find a table in the corner behind the door out.  Upon it, I find a scribbled note.

“The saddle bags are yours; they contain everything that belongs to you!  I included a few gifts from me and your pay!” the note reads.

As I move over to what is presented as my saddle bags; I find my belongings in the left bag and her gift in the right bag.

“Is that what I wore, when I arrived from Manehattan?” I ponder.

I have a set of clothes I could choose to wear.  There is also a key to an apartment in Manehattan.  Everything that had belonged to the mare Rarity crafted into the Ponequine I once were.

I find a set of clothes in the right bag.  Among the clothes, is a bright skirt I could but imagine is bound to fit me.  There is a matching shirt with fairly short sleeves.  I end up; putting on the clothes I had been told, belongs to me.

My coat is a light pink, almost white.  As I look down; I notice how my hooves had been polished and painted a bright cerise.

“Is this me?” I ponder; knowing I can't recall, who I had been before.

I open the door to the room and step out in the hall; there are four rooms and the shower and mares' respectively stallions' room on the second floor of the cottage.

Of course; the inevitable happens, the next door is opened and a stallion pokes out his head.  The stallion from the Boutique.  I can't avert my gaze; as I feel my heart pounding hard and fast.  I feel a blush coming on as he is looking at me.  Is he incapable of averting his gaze?