//------------------------------// // Preparation: 1 // Story: Passion for Fashion // by Kentavritsa //------------------------------// . I had been accepted, as Rarity’s model, and I am ecstatic. The hot shower is invigorating, and I have put on a pair of panties and a top she was putting before me. Even knowing the position is very demanding, I had still chosen to apply, and she had approved the application. There is a top and a skirt, hanging in the wardrobe, waiting for me. I pull out the skirt, stepping into it; before I am pulling it up, only to afford it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice in order to acquire the perfect fit. The skirt is surprisingly comfortable, even if I guess I should have been expecting this from Rarity’s wardrobe. I pull out the shirt, pulling it down over my head; only to afford it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. “That was easy, but I have the actual show before me!” I ponder. Since I am finally dressed up, I walk over to the door to the make-up room; knocking on the door: once, twice and trice. The door quietly slides up, before me; I step into the room, only to see the girl waiting for me. “Have a seat, please!” the manicurist offers, generously; with a bright smile on her face. “Thank you!” I respond, as I walk over and sit down in the offered seat before the girl. “Place your hands on the desk, please; palms down and spread your fingers, and I will fix your manicure for you!” she instructs me, with the same cheerful tone to her voice. “Almost too cheerful..” I ponder; “did she ask Pinkie Pie to apply the manicure, in disguise?” I conclude, giggling at the mere notion. Maybe she could pull off both the disguise, and apply the manicure; but still, Rarity could find a qualified manicurist for this event? Couldn’t she? As I place my hands onto the desktop before her, she uncaps the vial of metallic electric blue gel polish. I watch her, as she is painting my nails, one by one, starting with the thumb moving all the way to the pinkie finger’s nail. Starting at the edge of the root, at the center of the nail; moving all the way over the tip of the nail. Right, left; right left. “Just hold still..” she chimes, as she is placing the device over my hands, in order for the gel to cure. "Ping!” is heard, as the gel is cured. She pulls the device back. “Palms up, please!” she chimes, and I comply. I watch her, as she is uncapping another vial of cerise gel. Only this time, she is coating the tips of each finger. From the final joint of the finger and all the way in under the nail. I giggle, as I watch the silly idea; but hold my tongue, knowing Rarity had instructed her to perform. “Palms down!” she chimes. As I watch her, silently, she is painting a clear coat over the blue gel. One nail at the time, in the same manner as with the gel. Right and left hand, in order. “A special gloss?” I inquire, even as my nails are utter gloss. “Nope!” she responds, with a tirade of giggle flowing over her lips, like a song of exotic birds. She is producing a set of nail clip-ons for me. Each, a silver metallic. Semi-square, and appears to be about an inch long. “Put these on, then press each down for three seconds; you will feel, when it is time to let go!” she explains. “Oh, okay!” I respond; as I am picking up the clip-on for my right thumb-nail, pressing it firmly onto the nail. There is a momentarily tingling sensation and I let go, only to pick up the next clip-on. Like this, I am repeating the process, nail by nail: until I have finished the entire process. “Now, you can take them off, please!” she chimes. “Oh, okay!” I respond, as I flip off one of the clip-ons at the time. “Whoa?” I exclaim, as I find my nails had adjusted to the shape of the Clip-ons she had offered me. The nails, now the work of Rarity’s fashion genius; reformed, to maintan this appearance. What is astonishing me, no end; is the idea of these touch-pads I had been gifted with, even if I don’t yet know what they are and how they will be affecting me in the future. For now, it is little more than an aesthetic change; since I can’t see any depth, or feel any increased sensitivity one had been expected to be associated with these pads. Just as I am looking up, she is pushing a button; alerting the Make-up Artist, that I am ready to see her now. The next moment, the LED turned from yellow to green; indicating that she is ready, to see me now. “Since I am done, you should be seeing the Make-up Artist; I believe, she is awaiting you now!” the Manicurist prompts. “Oh, okay!” I respond, as I am raising to my feet. As I am walking over to the door, the door quietly slides up before me; the girl is waiting for me, on the other side in the adjacent room. Small as the room may be, but there is adequate space for her desk and the two chairs. The desktop is crystal clear, looking like glass. She had lined up the products, she had planned to apply; based off of the Photo, and Rarity’s instructions based on what she had in mind for me to wear. Of course, she had hand-picked me for a special line. Both the desk, and the seats are titanium, but my seat has been afforded a crystal-clear cushion for me to sit on; just as the Make-up Artist’s seat. I find the squishy cushion rather comfortable. “Lean forwards, please!” she chimes, as I had finally sat down and pulled my seat in under my side of her desk. “Of course!” I respond, as I am following her instruction. “Can you give me a smile, please?” she inquires; demonstratively showing one of her own, in order to give me an idea as to what she had in mind. I make my best impression, of her smile; and she picks up a clear lip-liner. Now she is drawing a line from the right to the left, along the upper border of my lips; then from the left to the right, along the lower border of my lips. “There, beautiful..” she coos, as she is putting the lip-liner to the side, then picks up the lip-balm. At least, it is what I think it is. Maybe you could call it the base-coat, for my lips? I maintain the smile, as she continues her work; applying the lip-gloss onto my lips. From the center to the right, and from the center towards the left on my upper lip; before she continues from the center to the right, and from the center to the left. “My lips are feeling wet, but smooth and more elastic than I had been expecting!” I ponder. “If you can maintain that smile; just just a bit longer, please?” she inquires. “She is never missing a beat, and that voice is a bit seductive without going overboard!” I ponder. She is picking up a lip-stick, matching my nails; only to pick up a brush to apply the lip-stick. I enjoy the effort, finding it enjoyable to feel her painting my lips. I simply could not deny it. Of course, she is applying the blue lip-stick; in the same manner, as she had applied the clear lip-balm. Or, maybe it is a primer, for the lip-stick to have something to hold on to. “Just a moment, please..” she coos. “Okay!” I ponder. “Now; if you could close your eyes, please?” she inquires. She is putting back the equipment she had used, in order to paint my lips; before she is producing the equipment, to apply the make-up onto my eyes. I can’t see the items, or the colour of the eye-shadow she had chosen. Though I know Rarity had been selecting everything. She is quite meticulous, when it comes to colours matching. The make-up has to be perfect for my face, just as it has to compliment my hair. Now I feel the brush, as she is painting my eye-lids; from the center to the right, and from the center to the left. Both my upper, and lower eye-lids in turn; the right eye, and then the left eye. If the lip-stick is anything to go by, it is just the clear base; for the colour to have something, to hold on to. Guess I do not mind. Only this time, she is applying a second layer of the clear coating; while my eyes remain closed. I relax. Once, twice, and thrice; she is building up the foundation, upon which to paint the eye-shadow. Without a liner to bind the make-up in place, she is forced to use a different method and a different product. I feel the brush, as she is applying the make-up; slowly building up the shadow, layer by layer. Once, twice and thrice; she is applying the colour to my eye-lids, a silver metallic this time. Only once she had finished applying the shadow; I feel the brush returning once more. Only this time, the clear gel is intended to seal the shadow in place. “Is this, for a single event?” I ponder; “Even if this event may last for hours, and I may be exposed to glaring, hot light for hours on end?” I continue. “Open your eyes, please!” she coos. “That voice?” I ponder; “had she been trained as a Hypnotist before?” I consider. Just as I am opening my eyes, she is producing the eye-liner; drawing a line from the inner corner to the other corner of my right eye. The upper line, then the lower one; then she moves on to perform the art on my left eye too. She had drawn the line between the eyelash and the eye-lid; before she is drawing the line outside the eye-lash. “If you can hold still; for just a moment, please?” she inquires. “Okay!” I respond; trying my best, to hold my head as still as possible as she is working her magic. With open eyes, I can see her producing a black mascara. She starts to curl the upper right eye-lash upwards, as she is pulling the brush back and slightly up in the process. She moves over to the left eye; repeating the process, applying the glossy black gel onto the eye-lash of my left eye. Now she is repeating the process, on the lower eye-lashes, right and left. While I manage to keep my head still, she is repeating the process over and over: once, twice and thrice; building up the effect, with each applied layer. Unbeknownst to me, the gel is now saturating my eye-lashes; leaving my eye-lashes in this glossy black hue, but not just for the duration of the event on the cat-walk. “Since you can’t see your face, without a mirror; I will offer you the chance, to see how the make-up came out!” she offers, in a cheerful voice; presenting me with a mirror, watching me ogle the result of her work. “Oo-oo-ooh!” I exclaim, as the effect is finally sinking in. “Wait; one small detail, but this will not change your appearance!” she points out. “Oh?” I respond. “Just hold that smile, for a minute; a nice lip-gloss should be applied!” she points out. As I am watching her; she is producing a lip-liner, aside from the lip-gloss she had promised me. I feel the tip of the pencil, describing a circuit along the border of my lips; as she is applying the lip-liner around my lips in order to bind the new layer onto my lips. With that, she puts the lip-liner back in its place; before she picks up the lip-gloss. I enjoy the sensations of the soft brush, as she is painting my lips once more. From the center to the right, and from the center to the left on my upper lip; from the center to the right, and from the center to the left on my lower lip. “There, perfect!” she proclaims; “How could I neglect, to apply her lip-gloss; in order to seal in the colour of the blue lip-stick?” she ponders, giggling at the near mistake. As she had put the lip-gloss aside; I watch her push the button, indicating that she had finished her work. The LED by the door is yellow, but turns green a moment later. The door is sliding up, and a new girl is waiting on me by the second door. I raise to my feet, then walk over to the girl by the door; following her into the room, only for the door to close behind us. “Since you have enjoyed the manicure and make-up, it is time for the final preparations!” she proclaims. “Yes, they did a great job, with these!” I respond, smiling at her. “They helped you look your best, on the stage; but you will have to endure the cat-walk, so I will put my effort into your feet!” she points out. “I was expecting the clothes to fit me, and feel good to wear..” I begin; "but, that should be including the shoes?” I inquire. “Quite correct; Rarity would never put forth anything, you will be uncomfortable in wearing!” she explains. “Ah, thank you!” I respond. “It is just, that the cat-walk can be a cruel Mistress; but you still have to carry yourself, like the Lady inspiring others to buy the clothes..” she points out. “If I had not known better, I would insist on Pinkie Pie playing all these of these roles!” I ponder, giggling at the absurdity in the proposition I had pictured. “While it is true, very little if anything of your feet may be visible; while you walk over the cat-walk, but this does not mean you can not have beautiful feet!” she prompts. “Oh!” I exclaim; “Of course, not!” I respond. “While we are working for Rarity, she will not stand for anything less than complete beauty!” she offers. “Of course, that is the Rarity everyone know and love!” I ponder. “Have a seat, make yourself comfortable!” she offers, indicating the cushioned seat I were to rest upon. Soft, smooth cushions; each a perfect, silicon white. Looking pristine, as if polished just before I had entered the room. This is after all something Rarity would have expected. While I am sitting down, making myself comfortable; the Pedicurist is producing her equipment. “A foot bath, should do your feel a world of good!” she now offers. “Oh, thank you!” I respond, as I slip my feet down into the warm water. I literally feel the outer skin soften and the dirt dissolving, before my very eyes. Not that I am looking down, but rather looking up. But still. At first, the water, or liquid is clear, but starts to pick up a distinctly cerise hue as time is passing. The water remains hot, however; even after ten minutes. “Lift up your feet, please; so I can change the water, for you!” she coos. As I am lifting my feet, she pulls the bucket out from under me; before she is pouring the content out, before she is filling it up once more. Though the liquid does feel different, from before; not warmer but thicker, more slippery. “Why did the water turn cerise?” I ponder, but did not ask. “Ping..” I hear, in my head. “Lift your feet, please; and I can pull the final foot bath out, if you don’t mind!” she offers. “Thank you!” I respond, as she is pulling the bucket out from under my feet. She produces, what appears to be a ten by fifteen inch towel. I enjoy the lusciously leafy green towel, as she approaches me; applying the towel onto the sole of my right foot, in order to dry my foot with delicate care. Once she had finished drying the soul of my right foot, she promptly continues to dry off my left foot. I notice, the sole of the foot is smooth, soft and a bit on the squishy side before she had finished. She merely swaps side of the towel, before she swiftly starts drying the top of my right foot; continuing to draw it completely. Naturally, she is drying my left foot too; before she is finished, and thus hangs the towel to dry. She is wearing a pair of silicon gloves, that look particularly tight and elastic; as she is producing a can of gel, she is uncapping before me. As I am watching, she is scooping up gel; applying it to the soul of my right foot, caressing the soul of the foot as she is working the gel into a thin layer. As she is finishing, the skin is smooth and slippery and looks a bit glossy to me. She continues, scooping up more gel, spreading it out under the soul of my left foot. “Oo-oo-oo-ooh..” I sigh, as she works the gel in; enjoying the luxurious treat, Rarity had affording me for this job. “Why does this make me feel, as if I had been visiting a high-class SPA?” I ponder; where I lie, enjoying the treat. “Just stretch your legs, and relax..” she coos; “so that I can finish up, your pedicure!” she concludes. “If it isn’t anything more, you need me to do..” I respond; “I think, I can manage that!” I conclude. While I am relaxing; she is producing a vial of nail-polish. I barely feel the brush, as she is applying the gel-polish onto each nail in turn. From the top at the center and all the way down; then right and left, right and left. One nail at the time. From the tiny toe on the right, and ends with the tiny toe on the left. Apparently, this is the primer. She had capped the vial, before she had uncapped the next. Only the second polish is a skin-tone polish. She had applied it in the same manner, as she had applied the first. Then she had put on a top-coat, sealing the work into place. She quietly caps the final vial, putting the supplies away. I lie where I am, relaxing; while she is finishing up her work, leaving me where I am. As the gel has cured, there is barely a hint of the sheen of artifice left; my nails a rudimentary, merely hinted to. Had I seen her work, I would have said that it looks like if I had been in an Anime show. Curious, if I may so myself. “These should be perfectly you!” she coos, seductively; as she is presenting me with a pair of full-length tight toe-stockings. “Oh, thank you!” I respond, as I am accepting the offered garments. The pristine, porcelain-white is a bit glossy; but not enough, to stick out. At least, it is what I imagine. Though my experience of the limelight on the cat-walk is somewhat limited. I had submitted my application, because I wanted to take the chance. Try something new, exciting; glamorous and fashionable. The fact that it is Rarity herself, was an added bonus I am excited about. I imagine I will be excited about it, even as I walk out the door, as the show is at an end. The promised paycheck isn’t exactly a hindrance here, of course. I slide my legs down as I turn to the side. Slipping the right foot into the stocking, feeling the tight and highly amorous embrace; as I slip my foot further and further down, as the stocking eagerly swallow my foot and leg with eager anticipation. The smooth inner surface only makes my foot slide down all the easier, and my toes find their place with practiced ease. I repeat the process, as I am slipping my left foot into the second stocking. “There, how does that feel?” she inquires. I slide down, off of the bed, my feet hitting the floor with a wet thump as the soles of my feet are hitting the floor. “Ooh..” I respond, “Feels great, thank you for asking!” I respond. “Then it is time, I show you the wardrobe, where you change into the first suit!” she offers. At first, the stockings had been a bit on the cool side; but they soon warm up to me, only to feel as if I had not worn anything. The stockings may feel warm, just as it is slippery and smooth; something that will aid in putting on and pulling off the garments, she will be having me wear for her. “Squeak, squeak, squeak..” is heard, as I take a few steps; getting the feel, of how it is to wear these stockings. “Before you put on the ensemble for your first show; maybe you would like to try out, a pair of new Crescent Moon boots?” she offers, in her usual excited voice. “Sounds like fun..” I respond, looking deeper into the wardrobe to see what she had suggested. There is indeed a pair of boots, matching what I believe is what she had referred to. Now I pull out a pair of knee-high boots. These would be the cervine model of the promised boots. I lift my right foot, slipping it all the way down into the boot; before I am lifting my left foot, slipping it into the remaining boot. “Golden hooves?” I ponder, astonished by the design. As she had promised me, to try them on; I am wearing them, as I step out onto the floor. Slowly walking over the floor, as I am getting a feel, for how they are to walk in. “These feels, like high heels..” I exclaim; “but there is no heel to be found, yet I can walk as if I had been wearing sneakers!” I conclude, thrilled by the comfort of the boots she had offered me. “High heels, is the choice of the effeminate Lady; but why do you need the heels, and they are crafted for walking!” she responds. “Is that why Rarity were offering me these?” I inquire. “Had you expected anything less, from Rarity?” she inquires. “No, I guess not!” I giggle. “Good..” she responds; “but it is time, for you to dress up!” she adds. A new door opens up, and the next girl is awaiting me. I walk over to the door, and she is closing it behind me. --- --- ---