Chapter 3
The Grand Galloping Gala was coming up, and Rarity had put it upon herself to design all of us new outfits.
Rarity had downright refused to let me attend the gala. "In that ratty old suit."
It was fine! It was comfortable!
But I can't deny the offer is very, well, generous! And it's clothing made especially for me. I wish I cared more about clothing to accommodate that. But it's objectively, really nice.
Except that Rarity asked to meet me, and only me, alone, to 'discuss the project.' It's the kind of request that fills me with nervous anticipation. It could mean so many things, which does no favors for my anxious disposition. Although... there's one fear that stands out. Rarity has been... giving me looks. I saw her watching my face as she offered to make me a new suit. I'm almost certain she was thinking about the gender elephant in the room. I have no clue what it was she saw there, but there's fear and excitement warring in my gut over it.
Rarity is standing at her display table when I trot in. She turns, and her eyes quickly light up. "Dusk! Thank you so much for coming."
"Of course! You're doing all this for free, I'd hardly want to be ungrateful."
"Well that's very thoughtful, but this visit is for our mutual benefit you see." She steps away from the table, approaching me. She quickly sizes me up, the same way she does everypony she meets. It makes me feel more naked than usual. Her eyes linger on my face, above it.
"You've been growing out your mane," A statement.
I look down. "Well. More just delaying getting a haircut. But yes."
"I approve!" Rarity smiles deeply. "You're very pretty darling."
I squeak a noise that would make Fluttershy proud, stuttering, heat spreading across my face.
"I- N-no I'm not," My protest is weak, and instinctual.
"Now darling, it's rude not to take a compliment." She turns back toward her fabrics, not waiting for my rebuttal. And the way she says it makes me feel helpless, like me being pretty is somehow a self evident fact.
"Let's get down to the purpose of our little visit!" A sketchpad rises in her magic, flipping open. "I've been brainstorming about your ensemble." On the page is a suit. A nice one. The lines are sleek, and surprisingly... curvy? It hugs tight in some places, draping softly over others. A star pattern is dappled across it, like the cloth is a portal into space. I try to find patterns and constellations in the stylized stars, disappointed to see they don't match any known star formations. But I bite my lip about that, because overall?
"It's beautiful," I say, a little awed. And that's the word that comes to mind, not handsome, not dashing. Some part of me wishes I was disappointed about that, but I'm not.
"Why thank you! I thought it might be to your tastes. But I also prepared some... options, just in case." I make an inquisitive noise at that. She obliges by flipping to the next page.
It's a dress. A gorgeous one. And at first I don't understand, why is she showing me this? I smile, a little confused. Then I see the stars, that it's the same motif as the suit, and I get it.
My face goes dead. A black iron door swinging shut over the searing flame inside, cutting it off from escaping into the world, and the world from ever reaching it. “What is that?” I ask flatly.
“Why it’s a dress of course!” she says innocently, “I thought you might like to try something new, something… how did you phrase it, different?”
Well, I hadn't asked for this. But I'd asked for the kind of thing that implied this, so I can hardly be that shocked Rarity took the initiative. I can just politely tell her this isn't what I meant. “That’s really thoughtful of you Rarity, but the suit is just fine.”
She does a little pout. “Are you sure? Feminine clothes are nothing to be embarrassed about if that’s what’s worrying you.”
I give a soft chuckle, though my heart isn’t in it, “No no, clothing doesn't have a gender, that would be a very silly reason. I'm simply not into dresses, they aren't my style," I say, as if I have a 'style.'
Rarity bites her lip, before tilting her head in assent. "Very well then, the suit it is! You won't be disappointed." She floats the sketchbook back to herself. "I'll just dispose of this, then," she says nonchalantly, walking toward the waste bin. She grips the page with the dress and starts ripping it off the binder ring of the sketch book.
For a moment I stare, horrified. I only make it past the first couple painful pops of tearing paper before— "Wait!" I call out.
Rarity freezes mid tear, then slowly turns her head, glancing at me with a knowing smirk. And all I can think is, she knows. She knows. She knows. She knows. Like an alarm bell. I'm not sure what it is she knows, but it terrifies me. I'm such a fool, I should've known Rarity wouldn't just throw out one of her designs.
"Yes darling? Is something the matter?" she says with mock innocence, "Did you perhaps tell a fib about your lack of interest?"
I don't know why it's my cheeks that are flushing with embarrassment, when she's the one who tricked me. I'm pretty sure this mare is evil. "I– No, It's just, I've never even worn one! I wouldn't want you to go through all that trouble for it."
Rarity gives a ladylike giggle, "Oh is that all? Easily remedied!" She gestures around grandly "Carousel Boutique certainly doesn’t lack for dresses! We can try some things out, and see if it's something you'd be interested in for the Gala!"
I sputter. Me going to the Gala in a dress is hard to imagine. It makes me feel some kind of way.
Her grin fades a little at the deer in the headlights expression stuck on my face. Her voice is softer, "You don't have to do this. But it seems like you want to, and there's nothing to lose! What are you afraid of?"
Am– Am I afraid...? If I had been pressed earlier, I would've said it was simply too much effort to bother with. Yeah, I've wondered about dresses, but I've never wanted it that bad. I've just felt jealous of how cute mares are sometimes, but is that really a good enough reason to go trying on dresses?
Now though, the circumstances are such that not trying on a dress actually would take more effort than just doing it. I'm sitting here with my blood frozen, so I must be feeling something about it. So my reasoning is clearly inconsistent with reality. I... am afraid. That more than anything annoys me. There shouldn't be any reason a... stallion... can't try on dresses. This hesitation is illogical, and doesn't match up with my beliefs. Therefore, the best thing to do is the option which represents my values. That makes sense.
"I... ok. I guess you're right," I say sheepishly.
"Excellent!" Rarity squeals, "Don't worry, it's just you and me, and nopony here will be judging you!”
A few minutes later I'm sitting in a changing room, with a rack of dresses looming over me. Rarity had gone into the backroom and come back suspiciously quickly with an array of dresses all in my size. She quickly shooed me into the dim curtained room, telling me to pick whichever one speaks to you!
Dresses cannot talk.
I know she was using metaphorical language, but still. I don't know what clothes 'speaking' to you is supposed to feel like. They're just... constructions of cloth that you're occasionally forced to wear for social functions. I hardly know how to put these dresses on, let alone imagine them on me.
So I guess I just have to... start somewhere. Pins and needles run up my limbs as I approach the rack. A lot of them are just flat out too intimidating. But I mean, dresses are just... less magical robes right? I've worn plenty of robes. Granted, not for aesthetic purposes per say, mainly for ceremonial or historical reenactment reasons--
Ok, I'm stalling.
I discard the structurally complicated dresses, the last thing I need is to step out and realize I put it on wrong, I would die. I also discard the ones that are... well, a little bit too risqué. Not going to think about why Rarity put those in here.
Of my remaining options, I'm not sure how to choose. I pace back and forth around them, staring, when something catches my eye. It's a dark blue dress, a simple design. But the material is glittery, it almost seems to sparkle in the dim light. I... think I like it.
I hold it in my hooves, the cloth is textured, but it's not rough enough to set off my sensory sensitivities, it actually feels kinda nice.
I carefully turn away from the mirror as I start putting it on, feeling slightly outside of myself as I go through the motions. My body is covered in a tingling phantom sensation that's definitely all in my head. The dress snugs into place in what I think is the correct way. I had closed my eyes at some point, probably when I put my head through the hole, but have yet to open them up again. I do that.
Well. My hooves look the same as always. As I raise my head again, I can start to see the shimmery blue neckline in my peripheral vision. Huh. I peek over my shoulder. I catch a glimpse of soft fabric draping over my body, before I have to quickly look away again, gluing my eyes to the floor. Looking at myself is surprisingly difficult! My hooves are fidgeting with nervous energy, and I just want to get this over with. But I’m afraid I’ll look in the mirror and see that this was all a big mistake, that I look foolish and out of place, that I could never be cute even if I wanted to.
But at least I would know. This waiting is starting to become even more painful, this stasis will have to end sooner than later. It's like a bandaid right? That's the logic I use to make myself face the mirror.
I– I–
It's just me, standing there, in a dress. Nothing comes crashing down, no soul shattering revelations wrack my mind. I look... fine? It's hard to tell. More than what I look like, it's something else drawing my attention.
I feel painfully aware of my body in a way I usually don't. All the lines and edges awkwardness that I ignore on a day to day basis. Anxiety starts to fill me up. Am I cute? How am I supposed to tell when all I can stare at is the line of my jaw, the taper of my limbs. I'm forced to be aware of it all. And it's... painful. It hurts, without the distance it's like being suffocated in myself, in my flesh.
Like a festering wound exposed to air, it hurts, but it also feels real. In a way that I, that my body, usually isn't. I'm in here, I'm actually in here, in my body. Looking out through these eyes. Not just piloting this vessel from afar. The difference is obvious now that I'm feeling it again. I... how long had I been like that?
I don't have an answer to that. I think... when I was a foal, it was closer to this. When did it change, and how had I not noticed? I wish I was more used to this, I wish I knew how to evaluate myself in the mirror, to know how I looked, good or bad, but it's just one big blaring signal, too overwhelming to be converted into meaning.
I can't tell if I still look too much like a stallion. Whatever too much is.
Wait.
Do I not want to look like a stallion?
I... Fuck. I don't.
What I was afraid of when I looked in the mirror was that I would just look like a stallion in a dress. It's a wrongheaded way of thinking, in reality appearance is independent from gender, a ‘stallion’ can look like anything. But I can't help it, in my mind there are a set of standards, a set of stereotypes of what maleness looks like, and I don't want that.
That is what finally makes me cry. The catharsis of finally naming something that's... is painful too dramatic? Uncomfortable maybe. Uneasy. The tears are slow and quiet, just enough to wet the fur around my muzzle.
I can't help but think something is going to have to change. I can't just go back to feeling numb in my body, pretending that's fine. But I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it.
What do I want to look like? I can't believe I've never asked myself that before.
The only answer that comes to mind is my friends, they're all... beautiful, each in their own way. Sitting here, in this sparkly dress, the thought of looking like them is exciting. They're so soft and good and cute and– with those thoughts comes other feelings. The embarrassing kind that I really don't like thinking about, that a stallion shouldn't have about his friends. Do I want to look like them, or do I just... want them? The thought makes me feel disgusting. Awful and predatory and... a bad friend.
Rarity's voice interrupts my rumination, "Darling, have you picked something out yet?"
"I... yes, I have," I call back, awkward, afraid she'll hear something in my voice.
"Splendid! Well then do go on darling, let me see!"
I peer nervously through the changing room curtain at her. I know Rarity won't judge me, or laugh at me. But it still makes me feel so exposed. Which is ironic, considering I'm technically wearing more clothes than I usually do. Somepony else seeing me is... different. Scarier than just looking at myself in the mirror. What if this is just some... weird fetish that I'm exposing my friend to?
But at the same time... Rarity knows fashion, knows beauty. Maybe she could make sense of this, if I'm just brave enough to show her. Relax. This is Rarity, it'll be fine. "Um, ok, I'm coming out."
My legs are only shaking a little as I step out past the curtain, my mind occupied by the unfamiliar sensation of fabric swishing at my side.
Rarity’s eyes widen as she sees me, and she grins. I search that grin for mockery, but can’t find any. “Beautiful! I can't say I've never imagined you in a little number like this. But the results are even better than anticipated!"
W-what? “R-really?” I ask, “I don’t look… weird and stallionish?”
“Hardly, darling! I’m no Applejack, but I would never lie to you about fashion! Heaven forbid!” She waves a hoof.
“Oh. Oh— Thank you, that’s very generous but… but how can that be?” My ears turn down. “I look… ok,” I sigh, “I don’t look beautiful.”
Rarity’s expression falls and she bites her lip. But she walks up to me, putting a hoof on my withers. “Here, let me level with you darling.”
I cringe, bracing myself for whatever hard truth I’m about to face.
She puts a hoof to her chest. "I, Rarity, think you’re beautiful. And I am a connoisseur of beauty, it’s what drives me. And you drive me darling. You don’t look like a cis mare, but you aren’t, are you not? Conventionality is hardly the recipe for beauty, in fact it’s quite the opposite.”
I glance down at the ground, hot and cold warring inside me.
She steps up and raises my chin up with a hoof, until I meet her gaze. Her eyes are— hungry? No, lovely.
She speaks to me, “Beauty is something you do, it is expression, life, vibrance! And Dusk Shine, when you let yourself do it, you are always beautiful.” She lets my chin drop and smiles. “If I can help you see that, I will be a happy mare.”
And for just a moment, I do. Like I did looking into that mirror and seeing somepony pretty for the first time. Except this time Rarity is the mirror, I see myself through her eyes. And I like that pony she sees, I like them a lot. Seeing my stunned expression and red cheeks, she half turns back to her work, letting me process.
Rarity… she really, really believes in me. I don’t want to let her down, so I should try and believe in myself too. ”Thank you Rarity, for all of this.” I take a breath, and look at her with my best determined expression. “I want to keep doing things like this. I don’t like the way I usually look.” My ears droop. “I don’t like looking… masculine. But this is— This feels like it could be better, much better.”
My heart is doing funny things in my chest. “I... I think I like looking pretty," I say, my voice soft. It gains a sardonic edge as I look at Rarity, adding, "But you knew that already, didn't you?"
Her head turns back to me. ”Well darling, I had no intention of rushing you, but it's a tad obvious."
“I… guess it is. Oh goodness.” Blushing, I fiddle with the fabric of my dress, of the dress that I’m wearing. “You don’t think that’s weird?”
“I truly don’t, my dear! I meant what I said before.” She looks off into the distance. “Why, you’re going to be such an adorable little thing that I can hardly stand it!” She notices me looking at her, and coughs. “Excuse me, carried away there. Pretend I said that in a less patronizing way, won’t you?”
I roll my eyes at her. But after hearing the phrase ‘adorable little thing,’ I don’t find myself very upset. “Do you really think I could start liking how I look?”
“If you like pretty Dusk, that is definitely something I can help you with.”
I sigh with relief, “I’m not sure I could do it on my own, it’d be too scary. So thank you.”
“Of course!” She says, “Now, does that mean you’ve reached a conclusion about your attire for the Gala?” she purrs with barely contained excitement.
“Oh!” I’d been so wrapped up in trying to figure out what I even wanted to look like, I forgot all this dressing up had a particular purpose. “I don’t… know,” my voice trails off.
Her eyes dart off to the side. "Well— hypothetically," she says conspiratorially from the side of her mouth, "Even if you were a mare, you wouldn't have to choose the dress of course. A lady in a suit can be truly stunning,” She titters, “So there’s no point being nervous in that regard!”
I already said I like being pretty, there’s no use being shy now. “I like the idea of dress in theory. And I know clothing isn’t gendered. But showing up to the Gala in dress? And the fashion show too, here in Ponyville? Could I really do that?” A sigh flows out. “I’m not a trans mare like Fluttershy. I’m just some stallion who likes… being pretty.” I grimace at her. “I’m sorry Rarity, I barely even know what I want.”
“That is a bit of a snafu, yes. You are at a very tentative point in your fashion journey, and I wouldn’t want to force you to commit something that may make you uncomfortable later on…” She taps her chin, before smirking. “So I simply shan’t make you choose! I’ll make you both the dress and the suit!” She nods, like it’s already decided.
My eyes widen considerably. “Are you sure that’s ok, Rarity?” I ask, concerned, “You’re already making five dresses, and now you’re telling me you’ll make six dresses and a suit? Is that really alright?”
“Oh Darling, please!” she laughs, “I wouldn’t be offering if I couldn’t handle it!” She waves off my concern with a hoof. “Now, would you like me to do your makeup as well?”
That puts the practicalities right out of my head. Blushing furiously, and not caring to hide my enthusiasm at this point, I say, "Y-yes please!"
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THIS!!! All the...this! This was exactly what I couldn't articulate when I was a teenager!
...how do I send a message back in time to my younger self...?
Oh gods...
My heart..
I struggle with these feelings daily and to see them come to life in a story?
It's heartbreaking and heartwarming all at the same time.
It's heartbrearming-
Very complicated and real feelings.
I do wonder if it might have made it better or worse if he'd ever done panto in Canterlot...)This hits, so bad. I never cared about the shape of my body till I dressed as a princess with a trans friend once on Halloween and felt every imperfection staring at me. (In hindsight, looking at pictures? I rocked it.) I’m once again astonished by how real this story feels. Maybe I just haven’t read enough fiction with a trans protagonist? Because I’m sitting here relating to every moment in a way I’ve never related to another trans person online. Does anyone have recommendations for fiction that has a trans protagonist? Because I really need some now.
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I think the first fic I read with a trans protagonist was Dash's Secret. It's at least a decade old now though, and I'm not sure how well it aged. It's also incomplete, although I'd say that doesn't hurt it. Most chapters function as stand alone stories, and the way the last chapter ends functions as an ending well enough.
I've also been reading Queen Umbra Strikes Back. The protagonist is trans, and that plays a definite part, but it's not the main focus of the story. It's also an anon in Equestria, and the kind where anon is/takes over the body of a canon character. Sombra in this case, although a female version. So it's an instant magical fix for the protagonist, she is suddenly in a female body, albeit a pony one.
Needless to say, they are quite different in tone than this story so I don't know if you will enjoy them as much. Looking this up I found there's also a Fluttershy's secret, but to me that seemed a bit bland.
As for this story, I've been enjoying it. No similarities with my life, or it would have to be from the perspectives of one of the other Mane Six. I have had at least four people in my life tell me they are trans now. The first time I was with a group of friends when one of them told me she was trans, to which I was like "Ok". One of them told me he had a boyfriend which was also a coming out, to which I was like "Congratulations!" And then I was like "Well, as long as we are doing this, I'm ace." And then we played boardgames.
Still enjoying the story a lot though. It's a nice glimpse of what some of my friends might possibly have had to deal with, although their journeys might have been different, I realise that.
oh, to be an everypony Rarity meets...
extremely relatable
Rarity is so wonderful this way! augh i love her
ooh, this really sounds like my style!
hehehe such a nerd!
ah, deliberate Rarity dramatics are always so great
i can just imagine all of the smugness of that smirk and i love it
ehehehehe i love her
and not a stallion! haha, sorry, getting ahead of myself, and couldn't resist
derpicdn.net/img/view/2019/4/30/2027265.gif
ooh name foreshadowing ooh
nice
oof, bringing to mind the earlier line about not even thinking about their body, so of course there are no problems with dysphoria there. well, there it is...
augh that self-hate! thinking that one's desires are inherently predatory, very sad :(
ponies don't normally wear clothes!
oof double meaning
aww, love Rarity's principles
augh, Rarity is so wonderful! this captures so perfectly this aspect of her character that i was drawn to
ahahahaha love it
well, certainly hope this doesn't go the way of "Suited for Success"
ah, so nice!
Holy shit, this fic is excellent. The recontextualizing of existing episodes, pre-transition Twilight's denial, the support from her other friends... it's completely different from how I characterized Twilight Sparkle in my fic about trans Rarity, yet she still feels very much like herself. And making this fic an alternate universe was a smart move, because it's hard to work with Twilight Sparkle's canonical childhood when we've seen so many flashbacks of her as a little girl.
Your Rarity is absolutely dastardly and I am loving it
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Wholesome wickedness, darling.
Welp. This chapter has done it for me. Giving this a like, and adding it to the good ol' favorites list.
I love Rarity so much in this. I could picture that smile she was giving Twilight so damn vividly.
Anyways. Cya tomorrow :)
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Gosh, I feel like I see you everywhere in the comments of the stories I've been reading recently, like a ghost following wherever I go.
Welp, Hello again, you commented on a lot of chapters of this story, I think, so I guess I'll be seeing you again.