Rarity sets down her pencils, the rough outline of Doug’s mud kickers completed. That wasn’t so bad, actually. Gave me some ideas, in fact, especially with covering zippers to prevent snags against one’s hair. He seems like he knows a lot about clothes, despite wearing none. And he has been very receptive to my suggestions. “Now,” Rarity says, “you mentioned you wanted pants, yes? Something for your… lower legs?”

“...Yes,” Doug says cautiously, afraid they will be just as frou-frou as the boots.

The pants are not frou-frou.

“These are chaps,” Doug says sternly as Rarity levitates over a pair of matte black faux-leather shin guards. Braided tassels line the edges, hints of silver woven within. “Assless chaps.”

Rarity frowns. “Is that not what you wanted?”

“No!” Doug huffs, motioning to his crotch. Rarity follows his motion, glancing back up at his face without a hint of a blush. He uses his hands to mime the actions, “I’m looking for something to, well, cover up. Front and back.”

Rarity sets the chaps off to the side, leaning against a wall. Her brow scrunches together. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?!” Doug throws up his hands in exasperation. “So I’m not walking around with my junk on display!”

“Really?” Rarity sits back a little, confusion breaking through her neutral demeanor. “Why? Are you ashamed of yourself?”

“Well…” Doug trails off, his temper dropping as he drums his fingers against the floor. He starts to cross his legs, then decides against it. “If I’m being honest, yes. A little. But that’s not the only reason.”

“Not to sound like a broken record,” Rarity says with a slight grin, “but, why?” Her head cocks to the side as she inspects his manhood. Doug grimaces slightly, more than a little embarrassed. Rarity motions towards the limp member and continues at his hesitation, “It’s not like you’re misshapen, or grotesque.” Her muzzle curls to a mischievous smile. “I assume, of course, that it gets bigger.”

Doug snorts at the implications, shaking his head at the audacity and how open she is about this. “Yes, it does.”

Rarity’s smile turns pleasant. “See? It’s nothing to be shy about. Plus,” she says, her voice dropping conspiratorially, “most mares don’t mind a bit of a show, hmm?”

Doug rolls his eyes. “You have hair covering your intimate spots. Kinda different.”

“That’s true,” Rarity says, nodding along, “and some mares, especially pegasi, take extra care on grooming themselves to stay ‘covered up’. But if you went up to a mare and asked her to ‘show you hers’, as it were, I don’t think you’d be disappointed.”

“And if I asked you?” Doug asks, smirking.

“I don’t know,” Rarity responds coyly. She bats her mane alluringly. “Are you?”

Doug snorts. Better not push it. “I don’t know if I’m jumping off the deep end just yet. But, for pants, they’re also for protection. It’s a pretty important area, you know?” Rarity nods knowingly. “Or against the elements, helping keep cool or warm. Or for absorbing sweat, but that’s more socks and underwear.”

“Are you ‘sweaty’ right now?” Rarity asks neutrally. Doug sniffs under his arm, grimacing at the strong stench; it’s not just from the exertion of pulling the cart; there’s quite a bit of stress sweat as well. He nods. Rarity continues, “Because it’s not unpleasant. Perhaps a little stronger than most stallions would apply on a day-to-day basis, and unrefined. Most wouldn’t go for the salt tinge; that tends a little towards the…” Rarity’s muzzle purses as she pauses, thinking of a less insulting way to say ‘good-for-nothing scum’ than ‘layabout’. “How shall I say, more of an earth pony taste.”

“Good thing I’m working with Applejack,” Doug says wryly.

“As for protection…” Rarity purses her muzzle, staring down at him. He uncomfortably shifts back and forth. “Stallions wear rump pads during hoofball, but as far as day to day wear?” She shrugs, then shakes her head from side to side. “Unless you plan on walking into the fences at Applejack’s, you should be fine.”

Doug sighs. “So, is that a ‘no’ on the pants thing? I’d still like to get them. They can be useful for carrying around a lot of things, like your saddlebags.”

“Hmm,” Rarity muses as she strokes a hoof along her chin. “I could make a set of custom saddlebags for you. Perhaps made to wear around your waist, or around your back.”

“But no pants?” Doug asks again.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever had to put it into words before, but most ponies…” Rarity stops, figuring out how to put their unspoken conventions into words. “I would say, most ponies are suspicious of anything that covers up their cutie marks. Or, on other creatures, where the cutie mark would be. It makes it look like you are up to no good.” She meets his eyes, trying to stay upbeat. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you need any more black marks against you. Especially with first impressions. If the first thing they see is, in essence, a disguise, what are they supposed to think?”

“That I don’t fit in?” Doug motions to his body. Even sitting he’s nearly eye to eye with Rarity standing. “I already don’t fit in. Like, at all. What’s one more thing?”

“If that is how you feel, that you are so different that you can’t even make the attempt?” Rarity blithely shrugs, packing away some of her swatches of fabric. “Then perhaps you are right. You don’t belong, and you’ll never belong.”

“That was… harsh,” Doug says, frowning. Is that really how I see myself?

“Rarity, like the Moon, is a harsh mistress.” Her muzzle curls to a half smirk.

“Alright, Selene,” Doug shoots back, eyes twinkling.

“Wait, you’ve read that book?” Rarity says, taken aback. Her breath stops as she takes a quick step backwards.

“You’ve read that book?” echoes Doug, though his confusion turns to more of an exasperated sigh. How many other close parallels are there between this world and my own, that will only serve to bite me?

“Well, it’s not something most ponies would admit to,” Rarity says, a furtive glance towards the front of the store and making sure it’s empty.

“...It’s just science fiction,” Doug says, cautiously looking around the store as well. “Right?”

“Fictional, hypothetical,” Rarity intones quietly, her horn lighting and repositioning a few of the ponnequins to better block the windows. “Insurgent.” Her tone becomes dark and melodramatic. “Some claim it to be a supremely subversive work by supporters of Nightmare Moon, seeking only to pervert and destroy the society Princess Celestia has dedicated her life to build. They have tirelessly tried, though to no avail, to ban the book. Which leads me to, of course, the only conclusion worth considering.”

The way Rarity, this cute little white unicorn, peers around the store as if waiting for a horde of armed goons or secret agents or space pirate ninjas to burst in is too much for Doug. He chuckles to himself, unable to stop from commenting, “You know, you should wear one of those fancy fedoras when you spout your conspiracy theories, Miss P. I. It would really complete the picture. Or a tinfoil hat.”

“You mean…” Rarity says dramatically, “this fedora?” She levitates over a black fedora with a pink ribbon. She dons the hat, a snug fit around her horn as she peeks out from underneath. She flashes Doug a sly smile, a hoof touching the brim.

“Very dashing,” Doug says, clapping his hands together. Rarity seems surprised at the action, though her muzzle turns into a smile as she takes a slight bow. “Why do you have a detective hat laying around?”

“Because I happen to love Shadow Spade and her mysteries; she’s a detective who goes around solving crimes and managing to look fabulous while doing so.” Rarity levitates the hat off, giving it a fond farewell as it goes back to one of the racks. “I may or may not have a Nightmare Night costume of her.” She concentrates for a moment, and out of the back room levitates a burgundy trench coat with a slit down the back for her tail.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to see a cute pony with such a flair for the dramatic dressed as a film noir detective solving mysteries, why all the subterfuge about a book about libertarian ideals, of self-determination?” Also, why does she get a dress that covers her cutie mark and I don’t?! Doug purses his mouth, trying to remember the details. “I get that there’s an element of rising against the oppressor, with the Lunar colony revolt, but I haven’t seen as many, well, armed guards if that was the case.” And I certainly wouldn’t have been given such a warm welcome in a police state. Maybe they use magic to mind control people? Could I even do anything about that?

“Is that what you think the book is about?” Rarity says evenly, the trench coat returning to whence it came. He thinks I’m cute? “On the surface, sure. But it’s Luna’s Colony - well, Nightmare Moon’s city-state - not ‘lunar’.”

“Alright, I’m stopping this before it goes too far into us talking past each other because we’re speaking about similar but not identical things.” Doug takes a deep breath. “Tell me about your version of this book.”

“Hmm.” Rarity glances again to the front of the store. “Written several hundred years ago by Bobs A. Hindleg, and yes I know what the name means, it theorizes what life would be like under Nightmare Moon’s rule. Eternal Night, oppressive guards, the whole three bucks. There’s a love story mixed in with the rise of Luna’s Colony, as they are named, against the Solaris Regime, and the ending is somewhat ambiguous after Nightmare Moon’s victory.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Doug says, shrugging. “I mean, there’s plenty of alternate history fiction where the South won the Civil War, or whatever.”

“True, I suppose, but any work that so much as slights Princess Celestia is heavily frowned upon. The fact that it is believed to be quilled by Celestia herself just feeds gems to the dragon.” Rarity mimics Doug’s shrug. “Is your version much different?”

“So, Robert A. Heinlein wrote my version.” Doug motions to the ceiling, “There’s a lunar colony, on the physical moon, that lives under tyrannical rule. There’s quite a bit of political machinations with Selene, the subversive computer who controls everything’s alter ego, and the ‘Lunies’ rise up and successfully overthrow their oppressors, and then life goes on under a new normal.”

“Fascinating. Life on the moon itself?” Rarity shakes her head, wowed at the prospect. She sighs before softly smiling at Doug. She drops down to ponyloaf, settling next to him and nuzzling his side, her barrel pressing against his leg. “See? Talking about books, interacting with ponies. Even while naked! You could fit in, if you so choose.”

Doug sighs, closing his eyes, one arm wrapping around the mare. Do I really look like I need comforting that badly, or are these ponies just very open to physical reassurance? Not that I mind; her coat feels amazing. Very soft, especially compared to Applejack; she probably uses all sorts of products on it. One hand idly twists the hair just under her neck, lightly nudging her towards himself.

Rarity resists the pull, content to lay next to him and allow his hand to travel along her neck. As long as he doesn’t mess with my mane. Perhaps that sale is back on the table. It’s too bad the town has given him such an unfair shake. But do I really want to stake my reputation, flimsy as it is, on him?

“I guess that means I won’t be getting a set of pants,” Doug says with a heavy sigh, trying to stay upbeat. Welcome to Ponyville, nudist capital of the world. His hand travels to the middle of her back, then lays still. “But if it means staying with you Lunies, then I guess I must be crazy, too.”

“Hey,” Rarity exclaims, mock indignation turning high and meeting Doug’s twinkling smile with one of her own, “just because my mane is reminiscent of Nightmare Moon’s does not make me a ‘Luny’.”

“Ponies don’t like your mane?” Doug says, hand coming up to touch the bouncy curls. “But it’s be-”

Rarity nearly yelps at the contact, pulling her head away, though Doug’s aghast expression and the way he yanks his hand away gets her to pause.

“I’m sorry-” they both say together.

Rarity recovers first. “I’m sorry, I’m just not used to other ponies touching my mane. It takes far too much time preparing to risk messing up. It’s very finicky, you see.” She settles back down, returning to ponyloaf next to him.

“No, I’m sorry,” Doug says, his hand staying at his side. “I should have asked first. Applejack really liked it, and I made the assumption you would as well.”

He’s done this with Applejack? Rarity hides her grimace. He seems careful, and his hands are far more delicate than a hoof. Perhaps? She glances back at his hand. Not as refined as Aloe, though that might come with practice. Her brow scrunches up. Practice!? What are you even thinking about? Rarity clears her throat. “What was that you were saying about my mane?”

“Oh, um,” Doug says, trailing off. One hand scratches the back of his head, Rarity slightly envious it isn’t scratching her. “I was just going to comment that it’s obvious you care a lot about it. That it’s beautiful.”

“Please,” Rarity says coyly, dismissing the compliment even as she smiles, “it isn’t that much.” Beautiful? Rarity, darling, you’re obviously still feeling the effects of Rare Find running out on you. Yet she finds her mouth moving regardless. “If you want, well, you can touch it.”

“Really?” Doug says cautiously.

Rarity gulps as she sees the hand raising towards her head. No! NO! “Yes. But do be careful, darling.” Darling!?

Next Chapter: Ch. 14 - Greedtrap Estimated time remaining: 14 Hours, 45 Minutes