F-F-Fabulous!

by TwilightCircle

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Rarity, Slice of Life, Human, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1998

Being Rarity isn't easy. Being Rarity is harder when you're actually a random alcoholic.

Being Rarity has never been easy, but what could possibly make dealing with flank-pinches, wolf-whistles and constant flirting worse? Being an alcoholic human who inexplicably found himself in the body of an animated horse from a children's cartoon he's never watched, of course.

This chapter was written in two hours with no edits, no reviews and no f***s given whatsoever during a bout of extreme boredom. Based on a concept by Revolver and expanded upon by myself.

Published 2012-07-17 22:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-17 22:34:02 UTC

Bourbon is the Worst Possible Thing

Oh God… what happened last night?

I groan as I shift around under the silken sheets, tossing my head under the covers as if it will combat the splitting headache.

Guess I shouldn’t have had that second bottle of bourbon…

Taking a deep breath, I force my eyes open and brace myself for the inevitable blinding beam of sunlight.

Am I wearing a blindfold? I tug at the elastic cords as I attempt to prevent the excess alcohol from making a spectacular reappearance. Maybe Drunk-Me finally figured out a way to beat the hangover.

With a fluid motion, I whip the blindfold off and send it flying into a wall in the distance. As light streams through the bedroom’s window, I clamp my eyes shut and block my face from the beam.

Carefully, I allow my eyes to creak open. Taking in the light, I glance to the sheets covering my bed. Floral print sheets? Since when have I had those?

Where the hell am I? I wonder, massaging my temples. I’m in some random house… can’t even feel my fingers. “I must have had more to drink than I anticipated.”

I freeze as the sentence escapes my lips, looking for any other source of sound in the room.

“Was that me?” I whisper shakily. “Was my voice always this high?”

“For as long as I can remember,” a deep voice interjects from the covers to my left.

With a soprano scream, I bolt from under the covers and scramble to the farthest wall of the room. “Who in Equestria are you? Where am I?”

I can’t help but gape at my own speech. Equestria? What the hell am I talking about?

“Midnight, remember?” the lump on the bed explains. “From last night?”

A black mass emerges from the covers and lay itself down to face me. “You’re telling me you forgot my name that quickly? You were screaming it all night.”

I fight a powerful urge to vomit as he extends his tongue, passing it over his lips with a sensual moan. “You’re… you’re a horse,” I shudder.

“Uh, yeah, I’m a horse,” Midnight says, raising his eyebrows. “Come on, let’s finish up where we left off last night, sweet-flank.”

I’d rather get smacked on the ass with a riding crop till I turn purple, I think viciously.

“I’d much prefer for you to spank me until I turn a delightful shade of lilac,” I tell him.

Midnight leaps from the bed and starts toward me with a wicked grin. “That I can certainly do.”

“You keep your filthy hooves off of me!” I shout. “That’s not what I meant to say. And my name is Jacob. Who in the world is Rarity?”

“Jacob?” he asks, tilting his head. Suddenly, his eyes narrow in understanding. “Oh, I get it,” he says in a husky voice. “Are we roleplaying then? Come and get me, Jacob.”

He hunches low to the ground and stalks toward me, snapping his jaws playfully.

“Stop that! I asked you a question: who is Rarity?”

“Uh… you?” he says, pointing to the mirror. “Are you feeling alright?”

I’m feeling about as good as you look.

“Quite sexy, thank you,” I say before I can stop myself.

I groan and stumble toward the mirror. Swaying on the spot in front of the polished glass, I fix my vision on the hazy image within.

As I squint at the mirror, a figure finally begins to fade into clarity. I reach toward the mirror, laying an appendage on the surface. My lips tremble as the image copies my every move.

“Tell me this is a window,” I whisper.

“Nope.” Midnight shakes his head and grins. “Same mirror you’ve always had.”

I hold my head in my hooves, my breathing bordering on hyperventilation as I retreat from the circle of glass.

“F… Fu… Fabulous!”

* * *

“Rarity, wait! We can talk this out!”

Midnight turns to me with pleading eyes as I shove him out the door of the building. “What did I do wrong?”

“Nothing,” I insist. “I’m simply not homosexual.”

“Homosexual?” He gapes. “Are you saying you’re... did I just do it with a stall—“

I share in his look of horror for only a second.

“Thank you for visiting!”

I slam the door and turn back into the room. Remember your survival tips, Jacob; examine your surroundings. Linens and fabric… sewing machines and mannequins… am I in a dress shop or something?

I turn to a nearby table, atop which is an enormous and violently purple headdress. Striding to the surface, I look around for any indication of what this place is.

“Property of Carousel Boutique,” I read the tag in the back of the headdress.

I stumble backward to the center of the room and sink to the floor.

“I’m a horse,” I whisper in that ridiculous accent. “I’m a horse who owns a boutique. I’m a nymphomaniac horse who owns a boutique.”

I whimper as I realize what the soreness between my legs is likely from. “What am I going to do?”

“Rarity?” My ears perk as a voice calls from somewhere in the building. “Are you finally up?”

A nymphomaniac, pedophiliac horse, I amend with a gag.

“I’m down here!” I call. God, I sound like a kindergarten teacher.

A tiny figure descends the stairs behind me and trots to my side. “There you are!” she says. ”I’ve been waiting for you to get up for hours!”

“Who might you be?” I ask nervously.

“You can’t remember your own sister? I thought you said you were drinking apple juice last night!”

“Uh…”

“And who was that stallion I saw leaving the boutique a minute ago?” she demands.

“Wait—“

“Wait? Wait? What should I wait for? You do this every week, and I’m getting tired of it!”

I hold my hoofs to my ears, curling into a ball to escape the verbal assault.

“…can’t even believe you would do something like that while I was here! Mom and dad are going to be so mad at you.”

If you don’t stop squeaking like a damn chew-toy, I will end you.

“Sweetie Belle…” I gape as I pull the name from absolutely nowhere. “Yes, Sweetie Belle. I’m very busy at the moment, so if you can’t stop acting this way, I’m afraid I’ll have to send you to your room.”

Sweetie Belle and I stare at one another for a moment; my mouth hangs open yet again.

Why does that keep happening? Why can’t I just talk? I demand of myself.

“Eh… please?” I offer with a sheepish grin.

“Fine,” Sweetie Belle huffs, “but can you keep it down next time? I’m not even supposed to know about that yet.”

“Certainly,” I nod. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind…?”

Sweetie Belle lifts her nose to the air and stalks toward the door. “Don’t forget, the repair-pony is coming to look at the sewing machine today!”

Repair-pony? Is that all there is here?

I force myself to stand and cast a cursory glance around the expansive room.

Filled to the brim, I realize as I note the dozens of boxes and containers full to bursting with material and completed outfits. She’s pretty impressive, whoever she is.

Attempting to steady myself at the rush of information, I stride to a semicircle of mirrors surrounding a raised platform. As I see my image for the second time, I realize a crucial fact:

“I look absolutely horrid.” I sigh and step back from the mirror. What in the world did I do last night that...?

My stomach churns as my mind races back to the stallion I had woken up with only minutes prior. Shaking off a sudden fit of the shudders, I make my way back to the staircase.

“I suppose there’s no reason I can’t look beautiful in this body.”

* * *

Bubble bath… there’s something I haven’t done in a while.

I give a luxurious sigh as I dip below the surface of the bathwater.

“Alright, let’s summarize what we know, Rarity.” I almost cringe as that voice comes out of my own lips. “You drank a bottle of bourbon, and now you’re a pony who owns a boutique and has a unicorn for a sister.”

Makes perfect goddamn sense, I grumble internally, pounding the water with a hoof. It’s like my thoughts are the only place I can actually say what I mean. What the hell is this?

My bemoaning is interrupted by the raucous sound of a musical door chime. Allowing an eye to creak open, I groan and scramble from the bathtub.

“Just a moment!” I call though the door, wrapping a towel around my hair.

Racing to the bottom of the staircase, I bolt to the front door and wrench it open. Before me, a dark orange pony clad in a blue uniform stands in the light of the steadily rising sun. Hanging from his left hoof, the silver sheen of a toolbox shines into my eyes.

“Morning, ma’am,” he says. “I heard you’ve got a busted sewing machine?”

“I suppose.” I shrug, gesturing inside. “I believe it’s on the platform near the mirrors, the same spot I was railed by a stallion last night.”

My eyes roll around in their sockets. You have got to be kidding me.

The stallion scratches his head. “Uh…”

“Well, I’ll leave you to your work, then!” I say urgently. “After all, I wouldn’t want to keep such a burly and handsome stallion waiting, would I?”

Shutupshutupshutupshutup.

“Uh… right then,” he says, not taking his eyes off me. “I’ll just be working on the machine. You don’t have to stay and watch, but I don’t have any rules against it either.”

“I’d love to,” I tell him.

He turns back to the machine as I lay myself on the ground behind him.

Just keep your mouth shut, Jacob. You can’t say anything stupid if you don’t open your mouth.

“So, how have you been, Miss Rarity?”

Oh God. “Not all that bad,” I tell him. “But I’d be so much better if you were facing me and a lot closer.”

I stomp my hooves on the ground and hold back a scream.

“Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” he asks, not turning from his work.

That’s gonna be the question of the day…

“Simply marvelous,” I tell him, conjuring a painfully fake smile.

“Right… Well, it doesn’t look like there was any particular problem with the machine here,” he turns toward me, holding a bobby-pin in his extended hoof. “This just got caught in one of the gears and kept ‘em from moving. Should be all cleared up now.”

“Thank you ever so much for your help.” Just don’t ask any goddamn questions.

He stoops down and returns the screwdriver to his toolbox. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Don’t do it.

I take a step toward him. “Actually…”

Don’t you dare.

“If it’s not too much trouble…”

I swear to God—

“Would you mind nailing me?”

Son of a bitch.

“My sign!” I shout, regaining free will for the briefest second. “Would you mind nailing my sign? It’s been dreadfully loose lately, and I’m concerned it might fall on somepony’s head if it remains that way.”

His mouth hangs open as he places a hoof to his head. “Miss Rarity, are you sure—“

“No, I’m perfectly fine; I assure you.”

I whip around and notice the open door.

“Why don’t you work on that sign? I have an errand I simply must attend to.”

“I guess that’s—“

“Thank you ever so much!” I call back as I gallop away.

The moment I cross the threshold, I slam the door and stand spread-eagle against it.

One of these ponies has to know how I got here… and how I can stop almost jumping every stallion I see.

“Never again, bourbon,” I vow. “Never again.”