I Feel Beautiful

by LightningSword

Rating: teen
Tags: Thunderlane, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Slice of Life
Length: 7022

He's finally summoned up the courage to buy himself that pink dress. But Thunderlane soon finds that what he wants--or who he is--isn't as simple as he once thought . . . .

After a few days of waiting and planning, Thunderlane finally gets the courage to go back to Carousel Boutique, look for that pretty pink dress, and ask Rarity to buy it. Any number of things could happen, but a number of things--Rarity's heartbreaking refusal, a full, soul-bearing confession, and a sexy strut across the carpet--are the only things Thunderlane didn't expect.

He also could never have expected to question himself. His life choices. His identity. Who or what he is, or what he ought to be.

He just wanted to feel pretty. But is that all there is to it?

Contains light sexual references. Not enough for a Sex tag. At least, I don't think so.

Spectacular artwork by Crimmar.

Published 2017-12-25 22:50:07 UTC
Last updated 2017-12-25 22:50:07 UTC

I Feel Beautiful

One down, two to go.

Thunderlane watched as another customer left the Carousel Boutique. The jittery, fiery feeling returned and gripped him from the inside—that feeling of swarms of insects crawling all over him. His legs ached from hours of pacing, but he watched on, his feathers twitching in anticipation. He pictured it in his mind, that lovely pink, backless dress in the corner. He rubbed his back legs together when he pictured the skirt, cut higher on the sides to show off a bit of leg. He imagined the cute fluff on the collar tickling his neck and shoulders. He felt his face warm up at the thought of the fabric tickling his knees catching the light in his mind’s eye, and the tail-hole option for maximum “display”.

He’d been picturing himself in it for weeks. And even then, in his own imagination, he felt so beautiful.

Just thinking of wearing that pretty little number always brought on that tingly feeling in his insides, but it also brought back the same sick, nervous feeling, like having the life squeezed out of him. He’d felt it when he walked into the boutique a week ago, sure that nopony but Rarity was around—and knowing he was wrong upon seeing Big Mac. Okay, he’d thought, no big deal. He might not even notice, or even care if he did. Besides, he knows what it’s like to wear a dress. Maybe he won’t judge me?

Still, Thunderlane waited for Mac to leave anyway. And it seemed like he wouldn’t be anytime soon, and Rarity seemed eager to get Thunderlane out. Everything had fallen apart, and he knew he couldn’t take the risk.

And so he waited until the next day.

Another down, one to go . . .

And he’d chickened out then, too.

That day, he’d gone to the boutique in the early morning to avoid crowds, but could remember a huge line already forming outside the door at seven in the morning. A sign in the window read “Clearance Sale! Last season’s designs up to 90% off!” He remembered turning around and walking away, the phrase “tail between his legs” not ringing any truer than that one moment.

And it wasn’t just the fact that he’d failed once again at coming to the boutique when nopony else was around. It wasn’t just because he knew Rarity had enough to deal with that morning. It wasn’t even because the huge line would mean he’d have to wait until well into the afternoon just to get inside.

Thunderlane had taken one look at the line, and self-awareness ate away at his insides when he realized they were all mares.

Wait . . . is she leaving? Finally! Now, I . . . shoot!

Just as Rarity could see her last customer bidding her farewell, another mare walked up to the boutique and went inside. Thunderlane felt a frustrated sigh escape his throat, until he saw that the new customer didn’t seem to be sticking around. She spoke, Rarity spoke back, and the new mare nodded. Thunderlane couldn’t hear them from outside in the distance, nor could he see them well enough through the window to know for sure, but logic struck him. Probably just asking when she’s open, he thought to himself. Good, she’s gone! It’s now or never!

Watching Rarity’s last customer walk out, Thunderlane swiftly and silently made his way to the front door. He slowed his tread after a few steps, but still stayed quick and steady. The store would close soon, but getting there too quickly would look suspicious. Thunderlane sighed at the happy medium he’d found and proceeded, reaching the door and walking in.

The bell rang, and Rarity glanced his way. “Oh, good evening!” she said with a smile. “Welcome back to Carousel Boutique!”

Thunderlane felt the pit of his stomach sink. Welcome back? She’d remembered he’d been here. That wasn’t good. This meant needing an excuse of some kind to pad out the inevitable small talk.

“Uhhh . . . hi, Rarity,” Thunderlane muttered, forcing a weak smile.

“Is there anything I can do for you tonight?” Rarity asked, her smile totally natural.

“No, not at all, just . . . browsing . . . .”

Jeez, that sounded lame . . . he thought as a shameful wave of déjà vu crept over him. That was the exact answer he’d given the last time Rarity had asked if she could help. Last week, when Big Mac’s unscheduled presence had thrown a wrench in his plan.

“Hmmm . . . well, as you wish, darling,” Rarity said hesitantly, “browse to your liking, and remember to ask if you need anything.”

“Okay . . .” Thunderlane replied, his absent tone deliberate. Just keep it cool. Act like you’re not in there for any huge reason. Pass it off as normal. Pass it off as normal. Pass it off as normal.

This became his mantra as another strong sense of repetition struck. He’d used it that night, too, as he wandered around pretending to “browse”.

Still, he looked away from Rarity’s dubious glance and wandered, feigning mild interest at the various outfits on racks. He slowly made his way to the corner, where his treasure stood. It sprang back to mind after a quick glance at it, and he could almost feel the silky fabric tickling the backs of his knees. The tingle started up again, in that very area and spreading upwards—

Pass it off as normal, pass it off as normal, pass it off as normal . . . .

An occasional glance at the pink dress guided Thunderlane on a formless path through the boutique. Racks and mannequins were fewer today, much fewer than the previous week, during the sale. An empty, regretful feeling struck him at picturing the numerous beautiful outfits that must have lined the shelves. Glancing around and not seeing Rarity nearby, he shook his head and focused on the present, seeing numerous dresses and skirts that were quite stylish themselves. They weren’t quite as enthralling as his pink dress, but the tingle returned nevertheless, and he pictured himself in these daring, sexy outfits, believing he’d look and feel just as daring and sexy—

Oh, get a grip! Thunderlane snapped inside his own head. You came here for one reason. Attempt to keep it in mind!

A few more cautious steps, past a stunning blue number with a short skirt and sequins (I’d look so hot in that . . .), Thunderlane stopped a few steps short of the dress. There it was, so bright and lovely and making its plastic model look oddly titillating. Come on, Thunderlane, he thought, blowing an exhale, all it takes is a little push. Just speak up, ask Rarity about the dress, buy it, and be on your wa—

“Finding everything all right, darling?”

Thunderlane jumped and fought his hardest to suppress a yelp. Turning to his other side, opposite the pink dress, Rarity stood with an attentive smile. He could already feel his neck and face warm up.

“Ummm . . . yeah, of course. No problems . . . here . . . .”

“Hmm, well . . . Thunderlane, right?” Rarity asked, and he nodded. “I just thought I’d offer a bit of assistance,” she continued with an almost manufactured cheerfulness in her concern, “you see—and do correct me if I’m wrong—you appear to be a bit lost. The gentleman’s apparel is on the other side of the boutique.”

And there it was. Caught red-hooved, he thought, feeling his guts squirm. Well, I might as well go with it. What’s the worst that could happen at this point?

He’d previously thought of a dozen different ways this could go wrong at this point, and every one of them flashed briefly through his mind in the space of a millisecond.

“No, no, Rarity, I’m . . .” he gave a casual sigh as he spoke, “I’m in the place I want to be.”

“Oh?” Rarity’s eyes widened slightly. “Well, I couldn’t help but notice you marveling at that little neon piece. A bit simple, perhaps, but flirty and daring in equal measure. A gift, perhaps, for a special somepony . . . ?”

“No . . . I mean, yes! I-I mean, no, it’s . . . it’s for somepony, all right, but I . . . I don’t think . . . .” Thunderlane began to swivel on the spot a bit, his heart thrashing the inside of his chest.

“Oh, Thunderlane,” Rarity gasped, putting a hoof to her mouth. “Whatever’s the matter? There’s hardly a reason to work yourself up over a dress.” She then seemed to get a flash of elucidation, and eyed him deliberately. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Thunderlane felt his heart plunge. “Well . . . i-it’s just that . . . I . . . .” All the excuses he’d remembered the night Mac showed up seemed farther away now than they did then. There was no way out of this. “I just . . . feel a little embarrassed about . . . buying a . . . a-a dress, that’s all . . . .”

“Well, there’s no need to feel embarrassed, darling!” Rarity said with a chuckle. “Whomever this dress is for, I’m sure she will positively adore it!” That look of clarity came back, and Thunderlane began to sweat. “Come to think of it, you haven’t said for whom you intend to buy this dress.”

“Umm . . . w-well, j-just a pony I know, who looks really good in pink, so I thought . . . well . . . yeah.” It sounded lame even to him.

“Really?” Rarity replied, that studying eye returning. “And what’s her name, darling?”

She’s on to me. I can’t keep this up.

He released a sigh as shame pulled him down like a violent undertow. He swallowed hard, lowered his head and closed his eyes as he answered, “. . . Thunderlane.”

He heard nothing for a good few seconds. No shocked noise. No scream of horror. Not even an “Oh”. Thunderlane opened his eyes and looked up to see a soft, yet stern look on Rarity’s face.

“It’s . . . for me,” he almost whispered it.

“I understand,” Rarity replied. “But Thunderlane, one does not need to lie. Especially since I saw you waiting outside my shop for the last hour. No stallion waits that long to buy clothes just before closing.”

Thunderlane could have slapped himself. He groaned at his own ineptitude.

“You drifted to this dress on your own, and you’re clearly uncomfortable talking about this. I’m quite a bit sharper than ponies would have you believe, you know.”

Thunderlane could only nod. He felt numb, not knowing what to think, or what to anticipate.

“That being said, darling,” Rarity spoke up, her horn igniting and sweeping the pink dress off of its mannequin, “I cannot allow this.”

Thunderlane’s eyes shot open and his heart cracked. “What?! B-but why? I di—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Rarity replied, holding up a hoof. “I’m sorry, darling. I know you were so looking forward to this, but this is an action I simply cannot condone. It would be an unspeakable sin against my profession, and I will not tarnish my reputation.” She folded the dress into a square and brought it with her towards a door to a supply closet. “Wait right there.”

And as she went inside, Thunderlane felt his heart shatter completely.

She . . . can’t condone it? A sin? Won’t tarnish her . . . reputation . . . ?

Not getting the dress was one thing. But this was far worse. This was the worst-case scenario he’d predicted, but even with weeks of planning and steeling himself against this very response, it still struck him like a punch to the gut. He felt small. He felt unclean, somehow, like a perversion standing out too well amidst the beautiful décor and fashion of the shop. He felt just as he was afraid he’d feel.

Like a freak.

Tears gathered rapidly in Thunderlane’s eyes as he turned around and walked back to the door. He moved in a haze, as if the rest of the world around him had vanished into thin air, and he only saw darkness, only illuminated a foot in front of him at a time as he walked. He didn’t know where he’d go, but he could not be here anymore.

“Thunderlane! Where are you going?”

He stopped, hearing Rarity’s genuinely curious voice, and was seized by a sudden, paralyzing anger. “I know when I’m not wanted,” he said, his voice low.

“But darling, I asked you to wait here. Why would I not want you here?”

Thunderlane blinked tears out of his eyes and turned his head towards Rarity. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your reputation!”

Rarity gasped at this sudden venom, and Thunderlane could hear her hoofsteps approach him. “Thunderlane, darling, please talk to me. What is going on—”

“Stop!”

Thunderlane rounded on Rarity fully and saw her recoil as she nearly reached out to him. Even as the white-hot rage thundered in his blood, tears continued cascading down his face.

“I’m a stallion, and I like to wear dresses!” he finally admitted, out loud, for the first time in his life. “I don’t know why! I’ve never cared why! It makes me feel good! Yeah, it’s unnatural and I should be ashamed, but I can’t help it! I’ve tried over and over again to get up the nerve to buy my own dress! I’ve gone to boutiques all over Equestria, and I chickened out every time, because I knew every single one of them would act just like you!!”

Thunderlane’s breaths came out harsh and shaky, and his legs trembled beneath him. Across from him, only a couple of feet away, Rarity pressed a hoof to her mouth, her own eyes wide and beginning to tear up. Seeing her expression seemed to snap Thunderlane out of his fury and helped him coast back down to calm.

Anguished, ashamed calm, but calm nonetheless.

“You . . .” Rarity began in a soft voice, “you think I disapprove?”

“You said it yourself, Rarity. It’s a sin against your profession. You’d tarnish your reputation. It’s obvious you don’t want to help me.”

“No, no, no! That’s not the case at all!” she cried. “I would never make you feel that way! What you’re doing is brave! It truly is! I’d never turn you away! I swear on my life as a designer, I would never turn away a client for such a shamefully discriminatory reason!”

“Then why . . . why, after all this time . . . I wanted that dress so badly . . . I just . . . .” Thunderlane could no longer keep the emotional dam up, and he collapsed, crying into the carpet. The world returned in vivid, agonizing detail, as if taking the form of millions of knives that carved him to the bone. And the tears may as well have been blood.

Thunderlane felt his sobs tear at his insides and covered his face with his forearms. He remained in this position, feeling the plush of the carpet press against him and not caring how ridiculous or juvenile—or emasculated—he looked. All there was, was the feeling of anguish.

Until it was followed by the feeling of a warm hoof on his shoulder.

Thunderlane pulled his hooves away and looked up to see a warm glow from Rarity’s sapphire eyes. Her look wasn’t pitying or cringing, as he expected. She seemed welcoming somehow, as though whatever he had to say would be met with understanding.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

Thunderlane drew a blank, but attempted to respond anyway, “What . . . y-you mean, right now—”

Rarity’s horn lit up as she turned toward the door. The knob glowed and there was a heavy click, and a split-second before Thunderlane glanced at it, the blinds on each window whipped shut on their own.

“Yes, dear,” she soothed, “now. If you’re comfortable. Don’t worry, the store is closed and the doors are locked. It’s just us.”

Thunderlane gradually felt his insides given form and function again, and took this to mean his resolve was returning. He sniffed and sat up straight, wiping his eyes free of tears. Rarity’s hoof never left his shoulder.

“I started sneaking into my mom’s closet when I was twelve,” he began, voice barely above a whisper. “It just felt good to show off my legs in a short skirt. It felt good to look . . . desirable, you know? To be something ponies would want. I don’t really know why. It felt empowering, daring . . . and, well . . . it felt one or two other, personal things that I’d rather not say . . . .” He could feel it getting quite “personal” below his waist at that very moment.

“Yes, quite . . .” Rarity sighed, nodding curtly and fanning herself with a hoof. “Please continue, darling.”

“Well, anyway . . . when my parents found out, they didn’t approve, and that’s putting it mildly.” At this, Thunderlane felt the tears begin to return. “And who can blame them? I mean . . . no one wants to admit their . . . strapping young stallion is a . . . is just . . . just a little siss—”

“Stop,” Rarity spoke up, holding up a hoof. “I’ll hear no such talk. There is nothing wrong with wanting to look beautiful. Understood? Nothing whatsoever. You needn’t rely on the word of family, or observers, or anypony! Not even mine, even though I support you one-hundred percent! You have every right in the world to want to feel attractive, and I want nothing but the best for you!”

Thunderlane stared back at Rarity, feeling a fog of disbelief soon give way to sweet elation—and the serene relief of over ten years’ worth of burden being pulled away. The pain of rejection seemed much farther away now.

“Really?”

“Absolutely, darling!” Rarity replied, perking up her head and making her purple curls bounce delicately. “In fact, when it comes to sensitivity, you are one of three stallions I know who show it wonderfully, and aren’t afraid to be who they are. One of whom asked me of my services not too long before you did! And to see stallions break away from status quo and do what makes them happy, well it’s simply marvelous!” She glanced at a table in the corner, on which a small case labeled “Plushie Repair Kit” was displayed right next to a bust carrying a magnificent gold necklace with a fire ruby set in it.

“Well, then . . .” Thunderlane began, glancing down at the floor, “why take away the dress I wanted?”

“Oh!” Rarity gasped. “Of course, that. Well, dear, as much as you wanted that dress, and as lovely as it is, I simply could not let you have it.”

“But why?”

“Well, I thought it was obvious!” she replied, sounding legitimately surprised. “It’s just not your style! The hot pink is too loud for your coloring and clashes in all the wrong ways, the bodice is too tight and restrictive, and the sleeves would draw too much attention to your chest, and your legs are simply divine! And it doesn’t bring out your eyes at all, darling! Why, to sell you a gown that cheap and gaudy, how could I call myself a fashionista!” She closed her eyes and pouted her lips. “No, no. It simply will not do. I cannot in good conscience sell you that dress.”

Just as Thunderlane opened his mouth for the third “Why?” in a row, Rarity trotted to another table and lifted a small flat box from it with her magic. She brought it forward, opened it, and brought out a new garment from within it.

“I can, however,” she added with a coquettish blink, “sell you this gorgeous piece!”

Thunderlane saw it unfold from within the box, and his jaw dropped. Thoughts about the pink dress he’d longed for for days were suddenly a memory.

It was a bright and sparkling golden dress with a wrap-around bodice, a simple string neckline, no back, and a pleated skirt, shorter than the pink one. It caught the lights of the room as if to yell out, “I’m gorgeous, and I’m proud!” Just looking at it sent Thunderlane reeling in sensuous delight. And he hadn’t even pictured himself in it yet.

“I had meant to bring this out from my closet before you tried to leave,” said Rarity. “This is a far better match for you, dear. And it’s just your size, I’m sure of it!”

“Oh, my . . .” he whispered, looking between the dress and its maker. “Rarity, it’s . . . it’s amazing . . . .”

“Well, of course it is, darling!” she chirped, her head held up proudly. “I designed it!”

Thunderlane reached out for it, and Rarity settled the garment into his hooves. The shimmering fabric felt pleasant to the touch, cool and smooth as if it were a curtain of silk. The longer he held it, the closer to him he pressed it, and the more the tears began to return—this time, in joy.

“Rarity, I . . . I can’t . . . I just—”

“Now, now, darling, no need to trip over yourself!” Rarity grinned as she brought a dressing screen over from a few feet away with her magic. “Go on, try it on and show yourself off! I’ll put out the closing sign to give us some privacy, all right?” Once the screen was unfolded, she urged Thunderlane behind it with a few taps to his behind, then turned and went to the door. Behind the screen, Thunderlane felt his heart race as he looked down at the dress in his hooves, and felt a moment’s hesitation begin to stretch on to infinity. The moment he’d been waiting for was here. He was about to put on a beautiful dress inside a public boutique for the first time.

And he froze.

“Everything all right, dear?” he heard Rarity call from the other side of the screen.

“I . . . I just . . . never thought I’d get this far, I . . . .” His honesty notwithstanding, Thunderlane felt nervousness kill the rest of his words in his throat.

A part of the screen folded back, Rarity subtly peeked behind it, then walked up to him. “You mustn’t be afraid, Thunderlane,” she spoke softly. “As I said, the place is closed for the night. We’re all alone. No one will intrude upon you. You’re free to express yourself as you like.” She stepped backwards, back behind the screen. “Now, be who you are. Be bold! Be adventurous!” She finished with a leer as she unfolded the screen before disappearing behind it:

“And be gorgeous!”

Thunderlane could feel his shaking hooves slowly steadying, and Rarity’s words, reinforced by the quietude of the boutique, had a soothing effect. His heart slowed, his breathing quieted, and he felt the sensual excitement fill him up all over again. He looked down at the sparkling dress in his hooves, and felt as though the garment begged him to wear it—a thought that toed the line between exciting and tawdry.

Thunderlane opened up the skirt of the dress and eagerly slipped through it, feeling the slinky material caress his fur and feathers. When he poked his head through the neckline, the skirt reached his waist and his wings slipped out, eliciting a shudder with his mirth that traveled down his back and to his backside. He did up the wrap-around bodice, fixing it to his neckline and crossing two silky sheaths of cloth across his chest. It felt perfect, as though it molded onto his body naturally, like a second skin. He looked down on his chest, then back to his wings, legs and behind, and saw the tail hole in the back, depressingly unused. Even with that solitary flaw, he still looked—and felt—like the epitome of allure.

“I’m—” he began, stopping after his voice cracked severely. After clearing his throat, he resumed, “I-I’m ready.”

Magic clung to the screen as it folded up on its own, and Thunderlane was shocked to see, not Rarity, but himself. A streak-free mirror had been placed in front of him, outside the screen, and Thunderlane saw a sparkly, feminine, and oddly alluring version of himself blushing back at him. His reflection’s eyes were saucers and his mouth dropped at the sight of his legs and neck, bared and beautifully framed by the shining golden fabric.

“Ahem,” he heard before a hoof pushed his jaw closed. “Falling in love, are we?”

“Oh!” Thunderlane started as Rarity eyed him with a dry grin. “Uhh . . . I-I—”

“Oh, darling, I don’t blame you!” Rarity giggled. “You look positively stunning! A vision of feminine perfection! And there’s no need to worry, either. You’re the same striking stallion you were before, and you will continue to be. Make no mistake about it!” She faced the mirror with him, throwing a foreleg around his shoulders and smiling. “Well? How do you feel? Confident? Courageous? Liberated?”

“W-well . . .” he began, reaching for the words, “I can’t really tell, I . . . I mean, I’ve looked in mirrors before, but I never really got the chance to see all of me . . . before . . . I-I’m not saying I don’t feel anything, I just . . . don’t know . . . .”

“Hmmm . . . .” Rarity placed a hoof to her chin and eyed him from snout to tail—until she seemed to realize she couldn’t see it. “A-ha! This might help!”

“What might he—OOH!” Thunderlane yelped as he felt an eerie sensation along the base of his back, just barely caressing his behind. A quick glance at the mirror saw that a blue haze had covered his backside, and a red haze had covered his face as a result.

“One second, dear . . . don’t be alarmed if you feel a slight pinch . . . not that kind, of course, just . . . .”

And Thunderlane felt his legs squirm under his dress as he watched his tail slip out of the hole in the skirt of its own accord. Rarity’s magic pulled his tail, doubled over, through the hole until the tip popped out, and it fell limp against the shimmering material as if to garnish it.

“There!” Rarity announced. “Much better! Does that help, Thunderlane?”

Still vividly blushing, Thunderlane surveyed his reflection, gave his hips a wiggle and saw his tail swish around along with his dress. Just the motion sent a thrill through him unlike any he’d ever felt before. Nothing he’d ever worn in the past, from pleated skirts to tight mini-dresses, from ball gowns to negligees, had given him this much excitement just by moving. And seeing himself move intensified the feeling; Rarity wasn’t entirely wrong in asking if he were falling in love. If it had been a mare looking back at him in that luxurious dress, shaking her tail for him, he may just have fallen head over hooves.

“I saw that look.”

“Hm?” Thunderlane was snapped back to the present. “What?”

“The look on your face,” Rarity repeated with that same dry grin. “The thrill. The swell of the bosom. The rush of blood, the thumping of the heart. I remember the first time I wore a stunning, head-turning number. I must say, I broke quite a few stallions’ hearts that day!” Rarity gave an ecstatic giggle and approached, offering an encouraging hoof. “Go on! Display yourself!”

Thunderlane didn’t think a deeper shade of red was possible until seeing his face in the mirror after that. “Wh- . . . what?”

“Now, now! Whatever is the point of beautifying oneself if one isn’t shameless about it?” She swept the mirror aside with her magic and walked across the room, a sassy shake in her bottom as she moved. “Throw your beauty around! Redefine the sashay! Spin on your own personal catwalk!” Rarity trotted back towards him, giving his rear another urging tap. “Flaunt, darling! Flaunt!”

Thunderlane took a startled step forward, and glanced as the shimmering pleats danced coquettishly around his legs. His tail twitched slightly, displaying his excitement in part, and slowly, he felt a barrier drop. Like a confining medieval trap loosening from his body and shattering at his hooves, he felt the thrill burn in his chest, and, no longer inhibited, allowed his tail another tingly twitch. This was it, the feeling he’d longed for since that first time feeling a skirt around his waist. The feeling he’d hoped for since that first time as a teen being caught (and thoroughly spanked by his father) had forced him to suppress this desire. The feeling that bubbled to the surface every time he’d see a mare’s clothing catalogue, seen mares walk past in new attire, or simply passed by the windows of the Carousel Boutique.

The feeling of being able to look and feel sexy. The feeling of freedom.

He took another step, his confidence now raging out of the gate, and took two more steps forward, giving his hips a shake with each step.

“That’s it!” Rarity cheered. “Keep it up, you lovely thing! Show them your feminine side!”

Thunderlane felt another shiver of mirth as he sashayed to the far side of the store, stopping and turning like a professional supermodel.

“Oh, yes! Cross your legs! Toss your mane! Wiggle that cute little bum! Be shamelessly sexy!”

Rarity’s cheers seemed to set a fire in his veins, and he stood up on his hind legs, spinning and feeling his dress fly up briefly. He stopped in a cross-legged, “come hither” stance and batted his eyelashes.

“Oh, Thunderlane!” Rarity cried out in jubilation. “Simply marvelous! If there were a crowd, you’d own them!”

The fire in him warmed his face, and a girlish giggle escaped his lips. Thunderlane dropped back down to all fours and walked back to where he was, a much more pronounced swing in his hips now. The world around him was almost a complete haze; only the lights and Rarity’s sophisticated catcalls reached him now, empowering and entrancing him. He stopped again, got up on two legs, and made another pronounced turn. His dress flew up again, a quick, teasing display of his crossed legs and an even quicker, even more tantalizing display of his cutie mark. He rested one foreleg on his waist and raised the other front hoof to the side of his head, and he eyed Rarity with the stare of a femme fatale as he gave his bottom another quick shake. The pleats danced lustfully around his legs.

Rarity’s eyes boggled. “Oh, you saucy little temptress! The stallions will fall to your feet—”

She froze, and the whole world seemed to freeze with her, coming back in sharp, frightening reality. Thunderlane dropped back to all fours and sat down, a sudden, parasitic self-awareness eating at his insides. The high was gone, and now the heat in his face was attributed to the debilitating humiliation of being a grown stallion in mare’s clothing.

Rarity looked back at him with what he was convinced was the same look he had: her face was vividly blushing, as well.

“I . . . do forgive me, darling . . . I was simply caught in the moment, just as you were . . . it slipped my mind, just for that one small moment, I . . . I didn’t mean . . . I-I was by no means insinuating that . . . n-not that that’s a bad thing, of course, I just . . . .”

Thunderlane tuned most of it out. This was the question he’d never asked himself, in years of covering up this pleasure, or hobby, or fetish, or whatever it ought to be called. Now that those earlier words of Rarity’s resounded in his head like a menacing echo in a haunted cave, the question had taken him up on his provocative “offering” from seconds earlier and slapped him painfully on his glittering backside.

“Am . . . am I . . . does this mean I’m—”

“Now, now, Thunderlane,” Rarity spoke up, having approached him and settled a gentle hoof on his face. “I assure you, whatever you feel right now is perfectly normal. You’re confused, you’re not sure of what you were convinced of before, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with being mistaken in what you used to believe. You may feel one way, but suddenly something else makes much more sense. If you do feel that way, there is nothing wrong with it.” Thunderlane’s head was turned to the side, staring at some random section of carpet, and Rarity gently guided his line of sight back to her. “Do you understand?”

Her eyes seemed to glisten along to the desperation in her voice, and Thunderlane found his insides returning once again. The questions rebounded, though, and his eyes swiveled in his head as he struggled to answer them all:

Do I like being a mare? Not just dressing like one?

Was I supposed to be a mare?

Do I like stallions or mares?

Does this mean I was anything else before?

Does this suddenly change things now?

Or was I always this way?

Is it right?

Does it matter?

The one question that would not be silenced, even by the overlap of dozens of others, escaped his throat as he sat, his dress pooled beneath him like a golden puddle.

“What . . . am I?”

His sight trickled back down to the floor, and he visibly cringed as he barely saw his leg under the skirt of the dress. It suddenly felt so alien, so wrong, as though any second now, Princess Celestia herself would break down Rarity’s door and sentence him to life in prison for defying his gender norms.

Rarity’s hoof left his face, and her foreleg slid around his shoulders. Her other hoof pressed gently against his chest (and the wrap-around bodice of the dress, forcing a reprise of the alien feeling).

“What do you think you are?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Thunderlane drew a blank, but struggled to answer anyway. At first, his mouth hung open without a sound, and after a few seconds, a dumbfounded scoff came out. “I . . .” he spoke at last, “. . . I’m a boy who likes wearing dresses. But . . . that sounds like I should be—or, should have been—a girl.” He turned back to Rarity and searched her face for help. “Should I be?”

“It’s not a question of what should be,” Rarity replied, her voice still low. “It’s a question of how you feel.” She pulled him in close and began rubbing his back. “How do you feel?”

Again, nothing came to mind right away, but Thunderlane tried anyway. “I . . . I . . . .” Another weak scoff, and his eyes landed once again on the dress puddled around him. “I look like an idiot.”

“Absolutely not,” Rarity said sternly. “You look divine. But that wasn’t what I asked you.” The hoof that wasn’t caressing his back now found his face once again, guiding his eyes back to hers. “How do you feel?”

The first thing that came to mind was “I don’t know”, but Thunderlane stopped just before he opened his mouth as he caught himself in the mirror Rarity had set aside earlier. The way his dress seemed to glide over his body, even as it lay with him on the floor, still had an air of class and beauty. The string neckline, the material framing his bare back, the hole displaying his tail (it twitched just after he lay his eyes on it), the pleats shimmering and catching the light—it gave him his answer.

He wasn’t sure how he looked, but he certainly knew how he felt.

“I . . . I feel beautiful.”

“And that’s all that matters, darling.”

Watching only the mirror, Thunderlane still jumped when Rarity leaned into him and wrapped her forelegs around him. He leaned forward and gave in to the embrace, even returning it after a moment. The flowery scent of Rarity’s mane brought him comfort, and the warmth of her fur against his seemed to shield him, if only for that moment, from the evils of the world. Acceptance. Sweet, blissful acceptance. He’d realized at that moment that he’d been afraid ever since that day, as a fourteen-year-old, walking around with his father’s red hoofprints on his behind. Acceptance was out of reach then.

And I’ve been afraid to look for it ever since.

The hug lasted a few more seconds before Rarity released him. Still sitting on the floor, Thunderlane suddenly felt pierced by the silence of the boutique. He felt a sigh escape his throat, and with it, the sense of burden. He felt lighter, stronger, like he could finally walk upright again after a lifetime of being weighed down into a crouch. He checked himself in the mirror again, and remembered how enthralled he’d been by his reflection. And now, for the first time, his look and his feelings matched.

“Thunderlane?” Rarity asked. “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“Hm?” Thunderlane pulled himself away from the mirror. “Oh . . . well, I’m not sure. I mean, there’s a lot I want to talk about . . . but not now.” He felt his tail give another thrilling twitch, and the churning warmth in his stomach (spreading below the waist) returned. “Maybe when I’m ready,” he mumbled, feeling the warmth spread out over his face, as well.

“Because you know,” Rarity cooed, touching her hoof to his shoulder, “you can talk to me about anything, darling. Whatever’s bothering you, I’m here for you.”

Thunderlane looked up at Rarity’s warm smile. “Really?”

“Of course. I’ve gotten very good at that lately, you know. Helping stallions express themselves, and such like. I find self-expression intimately important in everypony’s lives, especially for the gentlemen. Besides, you’re on a very rocky journey right now. And if I can make it easier, I will.” She chuckled as she continued, “Even if it’s just by helping you find a skirt that best shows off your lovely legs.”

Thunderlane felt his blush sweep over his face once again, then glanced down at his back legs. “I . . . I guess they are kinda nice . . . .” he muttered. He felt his tail twitch again, and the blush deepened.

“Well, they would be in a smooth gown!” Rarity suddenly trilled. “Now stand up straight, dear! If you sit there any longer, you’ll wrinkle the poor thing!” Thunderlane jumped to his feet, and Rarity began trotting through the store, whipping clothes off shelves and racks with her magic and moving them around. “Oh, darling, the possibilities! You’d be exploring so much of yourself, and I’d get to test my mettle on a new subject! Dresses for stallions! Ooh, the mere thought of what we could do just gives me shivers!”

“Rarity, I—”

“Adjusting for waist and chest size, options for leggings and shoes, perhaps even wigs to round out the ensemble . . . ooh, so exciting!”

“Rarity, I don’t think—”

“Perhaps less light coloring, preserving masculinity and displaying femininity at the same time, perhaps some jewelry, fewer frills and bows . . . oh, Thunderlane, the path we could pave for stallions everywhere would be a joy and a triumph—”

“RARITY!”

Rarity froze, and the two dozen garments she’d had floating in the air all around her froze with her. She stared at Thunderlane after he spoke over her, in almost indignant shock.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice back to an inch above a whisper. “I just . . . I can’t even go outside in this yet. Nopony else knows about this. And I’m still trying to figure out who I am and who I . . . what I want.” He rubbed his shoulder with his other forehoof and rubbed his back legs together beneath his dress, the ever-present blush burning his face. “Like I said . . . when I’m ready.”

Rarity gaped at him for a few seconds, then her face softened. The clothes in the air flew back to their respective places, and the store was neat and orderly once more. She walked up to him and stroked his face again. “I understand, darling,” she said. “This is new for you. And I wouldn’t do anything if it made you uncomfortable with your feelings.”

“Thank you, Rarity,” Thunderlane replied, still whispering and still blushing. “And, also . . . could you not tell anypony—”

“Say no more, dear. Fashionista-client privilege.” She winked at him, as if to seal the deal.

Thunderlane giggled effeminately, but the businesslike nature of Rarity’s words soon triggered a reality check. “Oh, uhh . . . that reminds me. How-how much do I owe you . . . for the—ahem—dress?”

Rarity merely shook her head and smiled. “Complimentary.”

“What? No, I could never—”

“You can, and you shall, Thunderlane. It’s the least I could do. Especially after making you think I’d turn you away. I should at least make up for that.”

Thunderlane stared wide-eyed at Rarity for a good few seconds, as another emotional wave threatened to eclipse him. “Rarity, I . . . you really are generous . . . thank you so much . . . .”

“Anything for my bravest customer.”

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.