//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: The Only Human // by BigD //------------------------------// Mark swore that if his cheeks grew any hotter, you could fry eggs on them. Not that he didn’t currently have a good reason to be blushing heavily. It wasn’t everyday one was standing in front of a female with nothing but his boxers on. Granted, said female was NUDE and didn’t seem the least bit put off by it, but that wasn’t a big comfort. “Really darling, I don’t see why you’re making such a fuss over being unclothed in front of me,” huffed Rarity as she examined his clothing bit by bit, stitch by stitch. The material, the design, the artwork; she had never seen anything like it and it was sending her curiosity to new heights. After six months of seeing it, she had gotten over her squealing and dramatic behavior, but there was still so much to learn about them. “Six months of being around…ponies with no clothes on isn’t going to overcome twenty years of being around clothed humans overnight, Rarity” he retorted, the hesitation suggesting he had intended a more colorful description. He fidgeted and shifted his weight from foot to foot, constantly glancing at her door, as if expecting it to burst open at any minute. “And I fail to see how requiring me to strip is going to help you learn more about my clothes. I’ve got plenty not currently on me you could use,” he all but growled, wondering when she’d be done and he could be decent again. “My dear Mark, you’re the first…human to be in Equestria. Your clothing is very different from what I normally work with, so surely you can appreciate my great curiosity. It’s not everyday I get to see a completely new, undiscovered design…or completely new, undiscovered young man,” she said, the last part said with a giggle and playful batting of her eyes, drawing a scarlet blush to his cheeks. “Rarity, Spike’s already sore at me for giving Twilight something to obsess over day and night. Please don’t give him another reason to hate me,” he said, well aware of the young dragon’s crush on the prim and proper pony. If things worked anything like in his world, going after another guy’s crush was a quick way to get beat up…and Spike breathed FIRE! Rarity just giggled again as she took up a measuring tape with her magic, wrapping it around his chest, then his waist, then measured his height and the width of this shoulders. Mark watched her, knowing this could only mean one thing. “I appreciate it, Rarity, but I already have plenty of clothes. You don’t need to make me any,” he said, always the humble gentleman. However, Rarity’s response was a playful poke of his body with her hoof, making him grunt. “Oh Markie, surely you haven’t been ignorant of your new physique. Even if your old clothes weren’t worn out, they simply will not fit your new body,” said the white unicorn, always able to tell such things at a glance…of the measuring tape, of course. She took some measurements, moving the tape to all the required spots, then set it down and moved away. “You may dress now, Mark. I’m done for the time being,” she said, getting a groan out of the human rather than a sigh of relief. He knew that last bit always meant another round of unmanly things to please a woman later; his mother had used it enough to teach him that. “With luck, I’ll have your new garments ready in time for your meeting with the princesses. A gentle colt must always look his best when meeting royalty,” she said, going to work on designs. “Just to be clear, Rarity, I only want one fancy suit. Keep the rest normal,” he said firmly, pulling on his pants, then his shirt, relaxing a little now that he wasn’t semi-bare to the world. “Hehe, as you wish…though I hope you don’t mind if I add a few things to them,” purred Rarity, getting a scowl from Mark. “Hehe, I jest, dear Mark. I promise to make them normal,” she said, holding a hoof over her heart. She used her magic to levitate some cloth and various tools over to her design table, then following them, going to work. As she worked her own brand of magic, she cast a discreet eye back at Mark as he began to pull his clothes back, trying to hide a blush and a smile at the unintentional show he was giving her. She didn’t know much about Mark’s species, so she wasn’t sure what counted for attractiveness among his kind…but by stallion standards, he was good-looking. His time working on Applejack’s farm certainly hadn’t hurt him, adding a few inches in height and thickening him up around the shoulders, his body lightly toned with visible muscle. His face was sleek and angular, his eyes a unique shade of brown that she couldn’t recall seeing in any other pony, and, most important in her eyes, he came with an impeccable sense of manners…even if he could grumble during things he didn’t care for. Realizing her own manners were absent, the seamstress pony stopped her staring and turned back to her work. She had marveled many ponies with her abilities in designing and creating clothing and Mark was no exception, watching her in silent awe as she stitched together a pair of pants (Blue jeans, she believed he had referred to them as) and a pleasant-looking shirt that could still hold up to the rigors of his hard working life. All the necessary tools held aloft by her glowing magic, it wasn’t long before she was done, stepping back and waving her head, sending her hair around. “Ta-daa!” she declared with a flourish and a smile, moving out of the way to let him see what she’d made. They appeared to be a normal set of blue jeans along with a copy of the current shirt he was wearing. However, doubting Rarity would show so much pride in a mere copy, he reached out and touched the material…and was astonished at a feel similar to silk, soft and almost caressing. “Rarity…what did you do?” he asked, looking at her suspiciously, getting a giggle and wink in return. “Well, now you can look good, feel good, and work hard, all in one. The material is soft, I know, but it’s also very strong. Why, I dare say it’s even stronger than the material your current garments are made out of,” she said, lifting the pants with her magic and holding them to his waist, checking the size. She did the same with the shirt, then, confident she had everything correct, placed them on a hanger and slipped them into her closet. “You may run along now, Mark. I’ll have some more pairs ready for you later today,” she said, turning around to him and levitating some bits over, the human giving her a wry smirk as he slipped them into his pocket. Apparently the joke he had made to Applejack had gotten around. “Oh, one more thing before you go,” she chirped, slowly gliding over to him, eyes half-lidded as she moved her head up and pecked his cheek, giggling as it instantly went pink. “For being such a gentle colt…er…well, you know what I mean, darling,” she said with a giggle, Mark managing to make it out of her boutique without letting her see the other way her kiss had affected him. Pony or otherwise, it had been a long time since a girl had kissed him…and a certain part of him apparently hadn’t forgotten how nice it felt. When Mark traveled the streets of Ponyville, he could count on three to four greetings from the various mares and stallions trotting here and there. His journey to Twilight’s library was no different. “Good morning, sir,” follow by a polite nod was the most numerous one, which got a nod in return, though he had to hide his scowl each time he was called “sir”. He was only twenty-six, for crying out loud! And while the greeting was polite…it was also aloof, and served only to remind him he was still a stranger here, even after six months. “Good day, Mister Hirami,” or its evening equivilant, was another, this one coming from the ponies he had done odd jobs for. Mr. and Mrs. Cake, Cheerielee, the Mayor, the Spa Ponies, and a few others. Again, he didn’t like being called such a formal title, but he bared it, appreciating the fact that some ponies liked him enough to call him by his name. Now, the third… “Watch it, freak!” snarled a unknown stallion, Mark quickly stopping his stride to avoid running into the glaring equine as he made his way into a shop, offering nothing but a polite smile in return. While that did hurt a bit, a part of him thought it only natural. He was something out of the ordinary around here, after all, so it was only natural that some would view him in a less than friendly way; he honestly couldn‘t say the same thing wouldn‘t happen if a talking pony wound up in his old world. With luck, it would change after a while. The fourth, however…well, it kind of hurt a lot. All he heard was a gasp, followed by a door quickly slamming shut, turning to the shop he had just passed in time to see a frantic mare shutting the blinds over the windows. He sighed sadly, fist clenching a little as he continued on his way, resisting the urge to grit his teeth in frustration. Despite all he’d done, despite it being clear (in his opinion at least) that he was no threat, there were still some ponies in Ponyville that were scared out of their wits by him. Try as he might to convince them otherwise, he was slowly growing used to the fact that there would always be some holdouts, some ponies who would never accept him no matter what he did…and it did hurt. To someone who cared deeply about what other people thought about him, even one negative feeling from one person, expressed day after day, month after month, tended to linger on in his mind, the human agonizing over what he might have done to make them feel that way, wondering if he could ever change their minds. It probably didn’t sound like much to get upset over…but then, it always does when one isn’t the person who has to deal with it. Mark slowed his pace as he came to Twilight’s treehouse, slowly rising on the balls of his feet, ready to make a move at the first sign of trouble. Even after all this time, Twilight tended to act…strange whenever she did her “research“, so he’d learned to stay on his guard. Making his way to the door, he raised his hand to knock…only for the door to slowly open on its own, as if anticipating his entrance. He leaned in close, seeing only darkness through the crack, hearing nothing, opening his mouth to call out…only for something to suddenly yank him in none too gently. The door slamming shut behind him was the last thing he heard.