//------------------------------// // Chapter 4- Rarity, The Horse That Makes Clothes Despite Not Wearing Them // Story: Race Relations // by DatZigga //------------------------------// Anon stomped toward the circus tent that Spike assured him was the boutique, tracking milk behind him. Between this and the gingerbread house, Anon began to question the architectural intelligence of these animals. Regardless, he found himself at the door and pushed through, causing a bell to ring above him.  “Rarity?” Spike called from his perch. “You here?” A sewing machine could be heard whirring from the second story. Anon raised an eyebrow, as this was the second unequivocal proof of machinery in this rural town. Anon almost thought it was the first, until he remembered that weird portal mirror. Yet, that could chalked up as bullshit magitek. This though, this almost sounded like the real deal, something he heard and saw his great grandmother use. He’d have to see it for himself. “One moment, Spikey-wikey!” The undoubtedly a horse yelled, the machine turning off. Anon looked to Spike. “Spikey-wikey?” He parroted, to which Spike blushed and pouted.  “It’s a nickname, alright?” Spike resounded defensively. Before Anon could bully the dragon for his dumb nickname, he heard the telltale sound of hooves climbing down the stairs. This was yet another mare, with snow white fur and a curly purple mane. What struck Anon the most about this horse was that she looked all done up, even to a human like him. He could even see the blue eyeshadow and fake eyelashes. He wouldn’t go as far to say beautiful, but it was clear to him that she was trying. Anon silently counted backwards in his head from 3...2...1...and there’s the gasp.  “What in Celestia’s name is this?” The white pony asked no one in particular. Anon stifled a grin, amused that so far the white pony was the one that had a problem with him. The more things changed, as they say. “Yeah, yeah. I know the song and dance.” Anon clears his throat. “I am-“ “Absolutely filthy!” The pony completed, her horn glowing a brilliant blue. Anon’s jaw dropped and he placed his hands to his hips. “Aight, now that was rude as shit.” Anon said in his completely human tongue. “I didn’t come and talk shit about your ratchet ass hair, did I? I deserve a least a modicum of respect.” All this went over the pony’s head as she brought over a mop and bucket full of water. With no hesitation, she dumped the water on Anon, and by extension Spike, leaving them drenched. Before Anon could curse the pony out, several towels bombarded him from all signs. “Honestly, Spike. You should know better than to bring a guest in such a state.” Rarity lectured. Anon grabbed the towel for a sec, attempting to pull it off of him, only to find that surprisingly difficult. “Darling, please. We will exchange pleasantries once you’re in a more respectable state.” “Bite me!” Anon managed, before the towel covered his face to wipe it. After several more seconds of scrubbing, the towels came off. Anon was free of his milkshake exoskeleton, but his clothes were still damp, sticky and stained. Without hesitation, Rarity levitated a pair of glasses and measuring tape. She trotted over to the fuming Anon. “Sorry for the rude awakening, dear. My name is Rarity.” Rarity begins to measure, Anon, who stood with his arms crossed and a scowl under his hood. “I’ve heard a bit about you from Twilight. You’re a rather…” Rarity searched for the right words. “Tall, dark, and imposing?” Anon suggested. “That could be one way to put it.” Rarity agrees, tapping her hoof to her chin. Anon rolled his eyes, both amazed and not that he got that right. “I also heard you’re not one for pleasantries, so what brings you to my Carousel Boutique?” She says that last part with pride. A pride that cause another eye roll from Anon, but admiration from Spike. “Anon is in need of a new set of clothes.” Spike answered for him. “He’s kinda been wearing the same outfit for...6 months?” Rarity gasped. “Hey, I wash!” Anon interjects defensively.  “Well, It’s not often I get to design for somepony who is not, well, a pony.” Rarity took but a few seconds to consider it. “However, your proportions are so unique to anything I’ve seen. Why, I can already feel the creative juices flowing with endless possibilities!” Rarity grew more excited with every word she spoke. She wrapped up the measuring tape, having gotten sufficient data on Anon’s body type.  “Hold your horses, horse.” Anon put up his hands defensively. “Rarity!” Spike angrily corrected, tired of having to remind Anon of the names of his friends. “Dude, whatever.” Anon rolled his eyes for the third time in thirty seconds. “Look, Rarity, all I want is a simple shirt and maybe some new, not so torn pants. Keep whatever bougie ass ideas you're inevitably thinking of out of my wardrobe.” Rarity recoiled from Anon’s attitude, frowning.  “Fine.” She let out a huff and stuck her nose up. “Because I’m a generous pony, I will assist you. Despite your rude behavior.” Anon glared at the pony, to which Spike elbowed Anon’s knee, causing him to buckle. Anon looked down to see the dragon returning a glare of his own. Deep down, Anon started to feel something akin to guilt, so he quickly crossed his arms and looked away from either of them, in the hopes to suppress it. He had a right to be rude. After all, he was the one dragged into this world and he wouldn’t have shown any more respect to any human that treated him the way any of these ponies had. Always pushy, always nagging, always smiling.  “Anon!” Spike shouted up at Anon, derailing his train of thought. “Your clothes.” “What about them?” Anon asked, clearly having missed whatever was said to him. “Take them off, dear.” Rarity ordered. Anon let out a sudden cough, which spiraled into a coughing fit. “Ex-fucking-cuse me?” “Take off your clothes dear.” Rarity repeated matter-of-factly. “There’s no sense in staying in those damp clothes. Here,” Rarity pulled over a room divider, concealing Anon behind it from their view. “You can change behind here. The idea seems to bother you quite a bit.” “I thank you for your astute observation.” Sarcasm dripped out of every word. With slight hesitation, Anon began disrobing. There was precious little to take off, what with the cloak, pants, and shoes. A towel was thrown over the divider and Anon used it to wrap around his midsection. Suddenly, the divider was pulled away, catching the poor Anon off guard. Spike and Rarity looked on with intrigue. Anon, despite being very much a male, went to cover his breast from sight. “The hell, man?! That shit ain’t cool!” “I apologize, my curiosity got the best of me.” Rarity admitted, a slight blush to her features. “I was merely wondering if you were anything like the Minotaurs.”  This place has fucking Minotaurs? Anon thought to himself. What kinda fairytale did I just land myself in? I better not be kissing frogs or defeating overlords. “Yeah, Anon. I was kinda curious too.” Spike further admitted. “In honesty, you look more like a monkey,” Oh, Spike. If only you knew… “, except with less hair and no tail.” “They are a distant ancestor where I’m from, but that hardly matters. Just...don’t call me a monkey again. That shit ain’t gonna fly.” The last sentence might be a bit hard to understand for the two, but the got the gist.  “Well, Anon. Since you insist on something, bleh, simple, it will take but a moment to make you a fresh pair of clothes.” Rarity began to walk around the boutique. “I just need to find a good enough fabric to start with. It won’t take but a few.” Rarity trotted over to a shelf containing several rolls of fabric of a wide assortment of colors and hues.  Anon was left tapping his feet, staring up at the ceiling as he waited for the mare to make a choice. He could hear her muttering about “too bright” or “out of style” and other excuses that nearly made him just yell out a color for her to pick. That was, until he caught a glimpse at Spike. Spike was completely mesmerized, staring at Rarity as she moved about the shop. Anon swore that he could see little hearts in the dragon’s eyes and emanating off his body. This got him to crack a smile, finding the idea of a reptile lovestruck with a mammal humorous. Anon, curious to see what Spike sees, looked along with him. Rarity was currently digging through a chest, her tail swaying from left and right as she hummed a little tune to herself. That, was when he saw it.  “Oh my God!” Anon shouted, quickly turning his head a full ninety degrees to the left. Spike was broken from his trance as he looked up at Anon. “What?” Spike asked, confused. “What happened?” Anon was too busy in his thoughts to acknowledge the dragon’s query. How didn’t I notice it before? Anon turned over the question in his head, over and over. Why didn’t I notice it before? Hell, why did I notice NOW? I mean, it makes sense. They’re animals, but they just don’t...seem like it. They’re fake horses, aren’t they? Straight out a cartoon or children’s book? What would they need with genitalia? Furthermore, what implications does this have on their society? Is that why she was confused why I was bothered? And most importantly, and this what scares me, will me being the only human here have some unintended consequences? I’ve been jerking it to curvy driftwood since I got here, but now that I know that sex is a thing here, do they have porn? And will I succumb to the temptation? I don’t want to be a horsefucker! Oh please, dear God, let there be humans on this fucking planet… Spike was left to stare awkwardly at Anon, who had sat on the modeling table, hunched over with his hand under his chin. With as hard as he was thinking, he could put the Thinker to shame, surpassing mere imitation and becoming a full masterpiece of his own.  “Is Anon okay, dear?” Rarity said, having finished a simple t-shirt and pants. Both were made from cotton, the pants a dark grey and the t-shirt a pure white. Spike shrugged. “He can be a little...weird at times.” Rarity, herself as befuddled as Spike, approached Anon with the clothes in tow. “Darling, would you care to-“ Rarity started, before Anon snapped out of his pose to face her. “I WOULD NEVER-“ He practically screamed, before seeing the clothes hovering before him. Anon, now blushing and murmuring, snatched the clothes out of the air and went back behind the divider. He had to admit, once he slipped his new duds on, they were surprisingly comfortable, better than anything back home. He figured the material here was somehow different, in ways he didn’t nor cared to understand. He stepped out from behind the divider. Rarity carefully inspected her work, eyeing Anon up and down as she walked in circles around him. Anon found himself slipping into his default annoyed step as she circled five too many times. Finally, she sighed. “I’m not exactly proud of it, but it will do for the time being.” Rarity casted her judgement. “Anon, dear, you must stop by at a later date so that I can make you something more proper.” “No promises.” Anon said with an expected bluntness as he made for the door. Spike groaned and facepalmed. “I’m sorry about this, Rarity.” Spike apologized, running after Anon. “He really is a nice guy. Honest.” Spike mumbled those last few words, mainly to convince himself. Spike caught up with Anon and was in the midst of climbing his new pant leg before Anon had a thought.  “Actually, Spike. Maybe you can just walk for the rest of today. I’m not keen on you popping any red rockets on my shoulder.” Spike, confused by the expression, reluctantly obliges as the two leave the Boutique.