"Who Are You? The Lone Ranger?"

The Human, The Fashionista, and The Milkmare

Chapter 1

It was cold outside -- maybe -- it was cold inside.

My feet are cold -- why is this bed so short?

Something warm wrapped itself around my midsection and mumbled something almost unintelligible. What is this? It's warm and kinda furry...

These lights are so damned bright! Someone put a dimmer switch on the sun, please!

It took too long for my eyes to adjust to the brightness -- when they did, I noticed I was not alone. I tried to turn over, but the pony's legs wrapped around me tightly, preventing me from moving much. I grabbed one of her hooves with my right hand and gave it a slight squeeze.

"Mmmh, darling, I love it when you do that!" the alabaster mare cooed softly. I noticed she had a mask covering her eyes.

"Who are you, the Lone Ranger?" I asked, the deepness of my voice startling her. She woke with a start and removed the mask from her eyes, which went wide with fear upon seeing me.

"Muh -- muh -- muh -- who -- who -- what --" she stammered as she backed away from me, falling off the edge of her bed. I got off her bed and walked around it as she backed her way towards the wall. "Please, darling, please don't hurt me," she begged fearfully.

"Um, my apologies for the intrusion, Miss Rarity -- I was expecting to wake up laying next to Twilight Sparkle. I have no idea why I woke up next to you," I offered softly. I slowly approached her as she backed against the wall and brought her forelegs to shield her face. I was now just a couple of feet away from her as I knelt before her. She winced as I took her left forehoof and brought it to my lips and planted a soft kiss on it, causing her to blush.

"Mmmh, darling, please! I don't even know you!" she declared as her blush deepened, a smile gracing her features.

"Miss Rarity, my name is Michael Walker -- last night, I made a wish to wake up laying next to Twilight Sparkle -- instead, I got you. Perhaps I was thinking more of you than of your friend," I mused.

"Michael, is it? What exactly are you? Where did you come from? And what business do you seek with Twilight?"

"I'm a human -- homo sapiens -- I come from a world known as Earth, at least that's what it's called where I'm from on that planet -- and, um, I kinda hate to say this, but -- Twilight is my favorite pony," I replied, my voice softening with the last few words of my reply.

"Michael, darling, why would Twilight be your favorite pony? Am I not more desirable than her? How many of us do you know? And how is it that you do know about us?"

"Um, there's this device called a television, and there's a program which features you and Twilight and Pinkie Pie, and Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, Applejack, Princess Celestia, your sister Sweetie Belle, Big MacIntosh, Apple Bloom --" I stopped as I heard something pop out from under Rarity's bed.

"Hey, did somepony mention my name?" asked a perky pink earth pony who grinned at me. "Oooooh! You're NEW here!" she exclaimed excitedly before gasping and disappearing just as suddenly as she had appeared. Rarity giggled a little before returning her attention to me.

"So you know about us from a -- television program? What -- can you explain that for me? I'm a little unclear on how that works, darling."

I found it difficult to explain how television works and my explanations of the program caused her to ask a great many questions, though when I mentioned Tom she became a little flustered and told me not to talk about that again.

"Yeah, but Discord was just messing with you -- you weren't thinking clearly, that's all," I opined.

"I -- I find it rather embarrassing that -- that particular episode was seen by -- how many of you?"

"Probably millions," I replied flatly, causing the fashionista to pull her fainting couch out of her hammerspace and fall upon it with an exaggerated display of histrionics.

"Of all the horrible things to find out -- that -- has to be -- the -- WORST! POSSIBLE! THING!!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, Rarity -- everything turned out fine in the end -- Discord was defeated and everypony was restored to their, uh, normal selves."

"Well, that's a relief. But tell me, darling, if Twilight is your favorite pony, where do I fall on your list?" she grinned.

"My top three are Twilight, Trixie and you," I replied, grinning sheepishly as her face fell.

"Trixie? That -- that -- trollop? Why -- why --" she sputtered almost angrily.

"Would you have been more offended if I had said that there's a certain earth pony mare who makes her home in Trottingham and runs a milk business, and that I consider her to be in my top five?"

"Mmmmh, that reminds me, darling -- I am almost out of milk. Perhaps we should pay her a visit!"

"Um, how far is Trottingham away from Ponyville?" I asked.

"By train, it only takes about an hour to get there," she grinned. "I can't wait to see her expression when she sees YOU!"

"I just want to see if the rumors I've heard about her are true," I mused thoughtfully.

"Ooooh, daaaar-ling, what sort of rumors have you heard about her?" she asked, her grin widening into a leer.

"Um -- I'd rather not say," I replied, a little crestfallen by her inquisitiveness.

"I've heard she's looking for a good stallion," the fashionista opined, grinning slyly at me.

"Then perhaps you know her a bit better than I do. And if we're going to Trottingham by train, I think I'm going to need some clothes," I mused.

"Oooh, did you say clothes? You're in luck, darling! I run a boutique and specialize in clothes! Would you like me to make something for you? Darling, I would be thrilled to create something truly magnificent for you!"

I grinned at her eagerness. "Miss Rarity, I would be honored to receive special vestments created by Equestria's premiere fashion designer," I offered reverently.

"Darling, we're not traveling to Canterlot --"

"Um, I meant you, Miss Rarity," I stated, grinning at her as she blushed more deeply.

"Darling, you flatter me! I'm not --"

"Yes, you are, Miss Rarity. Don't sell yourself short -- your designs are top-notch, worthy of the richest clientele," I stated cheerfully, my grin widening as she expressed shock. "Why so surprised? You're the best, Miss Rarity, and don't let anypony tell you differently."

The mare grinned broadly. "Ooooooh, daaaaaar-ling! I could just kiss you right now!"

Without bothering to wait for it, I leaned forward and with one hand on the back of her head moved her forward to meet me, our lips touching as I planted a kiss on them. Her blush covered her face, though she relaxed and returned the kiss, humming happily and sighing in contentment.

"Mmmmh, darling, that was nice!" she cooed.

"I've plenty more where that came from, Miss Rarity," I offered confidently, smiling warmly at her.

"Perhaps if I allow you to do more with me, I might find favor with you? Perhaps you might even consider me your favorite pony? Oooh, would you even possibly consider ... marrying me?" she asked as her grin nearly split her face.

"Um, I kinda hate to pop your bubble, Miss Rarity, but ... I'm already married," I stated sullenly.

"Oh. I, uh, guess that changes things a little. Is it possible for you to divorce her?"

"I think I would need Princess Celestia's blessing for that, and even then I don't know if it would be enough. Miss Rarity, I am flattered you would offer to be my mare -- I would be honored to have you, though --" I began before I was tackled to the bed by a very passionate fashionista who planted more kisses on my lips.

"Oooh, darling, it would mean so much to me!" she exclaimed exuberantly, prancing around the room in glee.

"Like I said, I'll need to talk to the Princess about it -- I'm sure she could probably make an exception or two -- but --" I stated before I stopped myself. I watched the mare immediately stop her joyful prancing and glare harshly at me.

"Daaaar-ling, you had better be careful with what you say next," she admonished sharply, her gaze hardening at me.

"Are you that jealous, Miss Rarity?" I asked. She nodded her head in affirmation. "Very well then -- if you wish for me to marry you --"

"Ooooh, darling! You would make me so happy!" she cooed.

"Can I see what you look like without your makeup on?" I asked, flashing a wicked grin.

"N-n-no! I -- I -- could never let you see me like that! You -- you'd -- I -- I -- am -- so -- UGLY!!" she wailed. "I am so ugly!" she reiterated, her voice breaking as she continued her histrionic drama.

"If we are to get married, I need to see you at your worst -- your dirtiest, ugliest side," I stated flatly. She looked up at me with tears in her eyes, just for a moment and then returned to her histrionic wailing and sobbing.

"No! No! You'd never even THINK of marrying me if you saw me like that! I AM SO UGLY!!!" she cried, her sobs increasing in their intensity and volume. I slowly walked over to her and knelt beside her, reaching my right hand to the back of her head. She had covered her face with her forehooves as she lay on her belly on the floor, continuing to sob and moan about how ugly she was. I began scratching her behind her left ear and her sobbing stopped immediately, her attitude changing dramatically as she began cooing about how nice this felt.

"Rarity, let me assure you of this -- you are not ugly -- no matter what you look like on the outside, whether you get yourself covered in mud or dirt, if you get scratches and scars, if anything bad happens to you -- you will always be beautiful in my eyes," I breathed softly in her left ear as I scratched lower on her neck towards her back.

"Oooh, darling! Do you really mean that?" she asked as she turned to gaze happily at me. Her makeup had smeared badly across her face and some of her age wrinkles showed beneath.

"Of course I do, Miss Rarity. I think we need to get you cleaned up a little -- your makeup has smeared a bit," I noted. "By the way, I know it might be wrong of me to ask this, but -- quel age avez-vous?"

"You -- you -- you ignorant ruffian! You should know better than to ask a mare her age!" she huffed indignantly. "How old are YOU?"

"I'm 50, and I'm damn proud of it, Miss Rarity," I grinned. "Now it's your turn to answer that question!"

"You lie! You can't be older than 35!"

My grin widened into a big smile. "You flatter me, Miss Rarity -- I am indeed 50, just look at my age spots," I stated, showing her my left arm.

"Darling, why is part of your arm darker than the rest of your fur?"

Without bothering to answer her question, I grabbed hold of her left forehoof, eliciting a cry of surprise from her. I placed the bottom of her hoof on my arm so that the frog was touching my skin. I moved her hoof up and down my arm to give her a sense of my skin.

"Miss Rarity, humans don't have fur -- we have skin, some of which is covered sparsely by hair. The reason the lower part of my left arm is darker than the rest of my skin is that part of my body is usually not covered by clothing. The reason so much of my skin is so light and pasty is that I wear clothes nearly all the time I'm awake, and my clothes cover nearly all my body. My shirts are short-sleeved and when the weather's nice and warm, I don't need to wear a coat or jacket to keep warm. The result is that my exposed skin receives radiation from the sun, causing my skin to tan. These age spots are a result of years of prolonged exposure to solar radiation," I explained. "Eventually we can suffer from skin cancer if we're exposed long enough." I pointed to a couple of small red specks on my chest to illustrate my point.

The fashionista expressed deep shock at my revelation, her mouth forming a circle as she silently said, "Oh."

"That's why we humans wear clothes -- to protect us from excessive sunlight, to keep us warm, and in some cases, to show off fashions by certain designers," I added, noting her broad grin.

"Darling, your explanation makes you sound as smart as Twilight -- now I see why you consider her your favorite pony! I must confess, I am 29 years old," she added.

"I'm still curious to see what you look like without your make-up," I stated matter-of-factly.

"No! I -- I can't!"

"Yes you can -- it's just that you don't want me to see you like that -- you're afraid I'll think you're ugly, don't you?"

She nodded her head, though the smeared make-up bothered me. I picked her up with my right arm, astonishing her with my strength. I carried her to her bathroom, as I had noticed the door to it was slightly ajar. I turned on the water in her tub and grabbed a washcloth with my left, then placed her in the tub and soaked the cloth, washing her face with it. She shrieked in terror as I ran the cloth over her face, rinsing it out under the flow of water, then returning to wash more of her make-up off.

"You wear more make-up than Tammy Faye Bakker," I complained as I continued to wash her face despite her shrieking protestations. The noise alerted her sister who trotted into the room to see what was going on. Upon seeing me, she screamed and ran off somewhere. "Who was that?"

"That was my sister! Stop this at once, you ruffian! Please stop! Please! Please darling! Please, for me, darling! Pleeeeeeeease?"

I rinsed out the cloth one more time and wiped her face to remove the last of her make-up. I turned off the water and turned her face to me so I could see her clearly. Her face seemed to have the look of somepony who had lived a pretty hard life, the lines and creases marking her age.

"You're not 29, Rarity -- if anything, you're probably nearly as old as me," I stated flatly. Her face fell at this.

"I knew it! I knew you'd think I was ugly! Baw-haw-haw-haw! I -- I -- I am so UGLY!!" she wailed again. I held her chin with my left hand and forced her to face me.

"Open your eyes, Rarity. Look at me. I said LOOK AT ME!!" I shouted at her. Her ears lowered as she opened her eyes, tears still trickling from the corners.

"What is it? Why?"

"Did I tell you you were ugly? Did you hear those specific words come out of my mouth directed at you?"

"Um ... no, darling, I don't think so," she replied softly, uncertainty coloring her tone.

"I never said you were ugly. I said you wore more make-up than Tammy Faye Bakker," I stated.

"Who is she? I've never heard of her."

"She is the wife of Jim Bakker, a television evangelist. If you want to know what ugly is, that woman pancaked make-up on her face to try to make herself look pretty. There's a saying about putting lipstick on a pig or polishing a turd -- you can try to make it look as pretty as you want, but at the end of the day, a pig is still a pig and a turd is still a turd."

"But -- but darling, you compared me to HER!"

"All I told you was that you wore more make-up than her -- I was exaggerating, Rarity -- sheesh, can't you take a joke? I'm sorry if I made you feel sad." I smiled sheepishly at her. "Hey, I didn't say you were ugly, remember? I never called you that -- and I never would. Sure, you lied about your age -- so what? If we're to get married, we shouldn't keep secrets from each other."

"Michael, darling, I am so sorry! You are correct, I lied about my age -- I'm 37 -- you're not mad at me, are you? You're going to marry me, yes?"

"If you're 37, how old is your sister? She looks like she's only ten years old," I stated. "Does a pony's reproductive cycle last long enough for you to be the first born and 27 years elapse before your sister was born?"

"Sweetie Belle is thirteen, Michael -- don't get any ideas about her. And what business is it of yours how long a pony's reproductive cycle lasts?"

"My mom was the last of nine children -- the age difference between my mom and her oldest sister was about 20 years, if my memory serves me correctly," I mused. "My grand-ma was 37 when she gave birth to my mom, so I think the maximum probably is about 25 years, give or take. My grand-ma got married when she was 15 years old, her husband was 31 at the time."

Rarity gasped in horror at my explanation. "How -- how could -- why --"

"Times were different back then -- my grandparents lived on a farm and they needed all the help they could get. Large families were normal back then, as were marriages between couples who had such dramatic age differences. Don't get me started on 'age of consent' laws -- that's another can of worms," I replied. "And as for Sweetie Belle -- she's too young and I would never even think of taking advantage of her in any way."

"Good. Keep it that way, unless you have a death wish," she stated darkly. She took the opportunity to look at herself in the mirror and gasped again. Using her magic, she levitated a number of items and began re-applying make-up to her face, including the eye shadow. I sighed in resignation as she continued to apply more make-up to cover up the lines and creases, but caught my glare of disapproval in the mirror's reflection.

"What's wrong, darling?" she asked, almost oblivious to my obvious disdain for her attempt to conceal her age.

"Be who you are, Miss Rarity -- don't be something you're not," I replied flatly, folding my arms across my chest. She immediately stopped, allowing the items to clatter noisily on the vanity before taking the washcloth I had used on her earlier. She returned to the bathtub and turned on the water. She scrubbed the make-up off completely, including the eye shadow, then rinsed off and toweled off.

"Michael, darling, I have decided to take your advice. No longer shall I try to be somepony I'm not -- from this day forth, I am RARITY!" she exclaimed proudly, grinning broadly. She turned to me and smiled. "Was that all right, Michael?"

"Perfect, Miss Rarity," I replied, chuckling softly. "Now, if we're going to Trottingham, I'm going to need some clothes," I added, my grin widening.

"Ah, yes! Of course!" she affirmed. "Come with me, darling! I'm going to need some measurements!" she cooed as she trotted out of her boudoir. I followed her into another room, this one adorned with pony-shaped mannequins and various other items one might see in a seamstress' shop. "Stand over here, please," she said, indicating a raised platform. I dutifully complied with her request, standing atop what appeared to be a dais.

"This will only take a few moments," she noted as she used her magic to levitate a tape measure, a pad of paper and a pencil before wrapping me up with said tape measure and feverishly writing down all the necessary numbers. I was amazed by the swiftness with which she accomplished this task and commented on it.

"Some of my best work occurs when I have such inspiration," she offered. "I will sketch up some designs for you -- this too should only take a short while."

I looked around the room and noticed a red couch where there had been none earlier. I decided to take a seat and wait for her to finish her sketches. I busied myself with taking in the details of the room, noting the red curtains over the windows. The room appeared to be nearly half the diameter of the entire floor, though I noticed a couple more doors. Presumably there was a staircase that led to a third level, though I was unsure of this. I also assumed the staircase led into a basement, but held that thought as she returned with a series of sketches.

"Look through these and let me know what you think," she offered, beaming a broad smile at me.

I flipped through the designs, noting how fancy they appeared. "They look like they'll fit rather tight on me -- I hope you allowed a generous amount of room for movement and motion, especially if I squat," I replied. Her eyes went wide when I uttered that last word.

"I should hope you choose to relieve yourself in a proper fashion and not dirty up the clothes I would make for you," she responded, anger quite evident in her voice.

"We humans have different protocols for relieving ourselves with regard to bodily function," I stated flatly. "I'm offended you'd think I'd intentionally soil my clothes. We humans have a very strong taboo against that -- and truth be told, I would like to take a shower before trying on any clothing you make for me. I usually take a shower every morning, immediately after performing my necessary bodily functions."

"Oh. I'm sorry, darling, it's just that -- I get a little overprotective of my creations -- I would hate to see anything bad happen to any of my designs! Um, if you need to --" she began, though when she turned to look at me, I was already in her bathroom, the door closed.

"Your commode is too small!" I called out from behind the door.

"It's the perfect size for me, darling," she replied almost thoughtlessly. She blushed upon realizing that I was substantially larger than her and trotted into the room. I cursed myself for not having locked the door as she saw me straddling her commode with my thighs, my junk hanging out in front. I had placed my briefs on the floor behind the door.

"I had no idea you were going to come in here without knocking first," I groaned. I had already peed in her toilet, but the urge to defecate was strong enough to cause me to try to use her commode as best I could. "You have some toilet paper?"

"What's that? I've never heard of toilet paper," she replied, a dumb grin on her face as she stared shamelessly at my flaccid penis. "Is that what I think it is? Your thing is very small."

"Yeah, I know. I'm 50, and my dick is even smaller now than it was when I was 20 -- it's never been big, even when fully erect," I sighed in resignation. My bowels decided to move at that point as a long turd made its way out and splashed noisily in her toilet. I was rewarded by having the bottom of my ass splashed with water. "Ugh, that's why I hate having to use a small-ass toilet."

"Michael, darling, I'm sorry my bathroom is not to your liking," she offered, wincing at my vulgarity. "Perhaps Twilight could work some of her magic on it?"

"I dunno, Rarity. Where's your toilet paper? I need something to wipe my ass with." I chuckled as she winced again. "I don't wanna leave skid marks on my drawers," I added.

"Um, I'm not sure I understand what you mean, darling," she stated, giving me a very puzzled look.

"Never mind. I'm gonna take a shower now -- where's your soap?" I asked as I grabbed the washcloth from earlier.

"Um, Michael, we ponies use shampoo -- here you go," she replied, levitating a bottle of mane and tail shampoo to me. I gave her a puzzled look of my own.

"Bar soap is made with tallow and lye, but I guess I can use shampoo in a pinch," I stated as I turned on the water. The tub only went to my mid-calf level, the shower head only at my waist level. I had to kneel in the tub, which was just wide enough for me if I kept my legs tightly closed. As far as sitting in the tub went, I could not do that as the tub just wasn't wide enough. "Your tub is tiny," I complained as I wet the washcloth and worked shampoo into it after wetting up my body.

"Sorry, Michael," she responded softly. She watched me as I soaped up my body with the cloth, working the soapy towel over every square inch of my body. I worked it between each toe, amazing her with my height as I stood up and braced myself against the ceiling with my right hand, running the towel over my junk with my left. I had to rinse out the towel and re-soap it to do my back and my face, working a lather into my hair as well. After that, I ended up shocking the fashionista by running the towel along the cleave of my buttocks, eliciting a gasp of shock. I turned and grinned sheepishly at her.

"Sorry, Rarity, but I have to make sure I'm completely clean," I stated as I rinsed the shampoo off, then ran the towel under the water to rinse it out and wrung out the water. I hung the cloth over the lip of the tub as I stepped out after turning off the water. "Um, do you have a towel large enough for me to dry off with?"

"Um, try this one, Michael -- it's my largest towel," she replied, levitating a relatively large towel to me. It worked to some extent, though it wasn't quite large enough for my liking.

"My bath towels are generally 27 by 54," I noted.

"Are they really that small?" she asked, giving me another shocked look.

"Inches, not centimeters," I replied. "What sort of numbers did you take down when you measured me? How tall am I?"

"Um, you astonished me with a height of 176," came her response.

"Okay, if you use centimeters instead of inches, the bath towel should be about 75 by 150," I offered, eliciting another gasp from the mare.

"Why so much cloth?"

"Is it not obvious, Miss Rarity? Do you not see how large I am?"

"Um, well, uh, yes, darling! Please forgive me for staring at you," she stated as she ogled my nudity.

"I'm not that special to look at, Miss Rarity. Did you make a new pair of underwear for me? What about the rest of my clothes?"

"Oh! I'm terribly sorry about that, darling! Let me get started! Um, what is a pair of underwear?"

I reached behind the door and picked them up for her and casually tossed the item at her, though it landed on her face. Perhaps she was staring at me a little too hard instead of paying attention to my action.

"Ah! What the --? Oh," she noted as she levitated the cloth to examine it. "This is your underwear?"

"Uh, yeah, it is. It's referred to as a pair even though it's a singular piece of clothing because of the leg openings. For similar reasons, a pair of pants is called that owing to the legs," I clarified. "A pair of shoes is called that because there are two of them, which probably adds to the confusion."

"Shoes? But -- wouldn't those hurt your hooves? Your hind hooves looked very soft," she commented.

"Rarity, would you be so kind as to lay on your back on your bed?" I asked, causing her to blush deeply.

"Ooooh! You're so naughty!" she giggled as she trotted out of the bathroom and over to her bed, dutifully complying with my request. I walked over to her and laid on the floor on my back, lifting my legs so that the soles of my feet were in contact with the frogs of her hind legs. A relaxing feeling of intense calmness came over me as I felt a sort of soft energy flow between the two of us.

"Ah! Ah! What is this?" she asked as she began gasping and panting for breath.

"Unh, it's called, unh, boku-maru," I replied as the sensation of intense pleasure began to overtake the feeling of calmness.

"Aaaaah, please! Please keep going! This -- this feels -- wonderful!" she cooed. She seemed to push her hooves against my feet to intensify the feeling, but it went away as she pushed harder, causing her to moan in disappointment. "What happened, darling? Why did it stop?"

"Mmmmh, you were trying to force the energy, Rarity -- boku-maru is about allowing chi to pass between us -- you cannot force the flow of chi through strength of will, it moves on its own accord. Anyway, it's best we stop that for now -- there actually is such a thing as too much of a good thing. Boku-maru is supposed to be done in very small doses, as the effect is very powerful."

The fashionista sidled up to me and gave me a big toothy grin. "Mmmmh, daaar-ling, I want to do that again!"

"Not now, Rarity -- I need some clothes, remember?"

"Oh! Oh, yes, that's right! Sorry, darling, it's just that -- boku-maru as you called it felt so wonderful! Have you ever done that with anypony?"

"You were my first experience with that, Miss Rarity. Frankly, I never even considered doing that with any of my female companions, as they probably would not have understood its significance. They probably would have thought I was weird or something."

"I can't wait to try that with Twilight! She would love it!"

"I think it would probably be about the same intensity as rubbing your horns against each other's," I mused pensively.

"Ooooh! You're right! There's nothing like a good horn rub, if I do say so myself! Mmmh, Michael, darling, would you oblige me?"

"Um, Rarity, my clothes?" I asked a little more impatiently.

"Oh, of course, darling! I'll get right on that! Um, which designs did you like?"

I glanced through her sketches and picked out a few I liked. "Black, red, blue, and purple are colors I favor," I added.

"Darling, please! Those are such sad colors! I won't hear of it -- you are going to be bright and colorful -- like a peacock!"

"I'd rather go around naked if you're going to display me like a peacock," I grumbled. I found my skivvies and put them back on. "And I'd rather wear this if nothing else."

"Very well then, darling -- I shall see what I can do for you," she responded in a nearly business-like tone of voice as she trotted into her workroom and began on my clothes. I took the opportunity to lay on her bed to rest a little and reflect upon my first boku-maru. I was surprised to discover how nice it felt, and much like Rarity, I wanted to do it again as well. I kept in mind that overdoing it would be bad, but I too was curious to see how Twilight would respond to it. The softness of Rarity's bed lulled me to sleep, though the bed was too small for me.