.

I still hear the music, of Octavia playing, as I close the door to my sister’s room; walking into my own room. I close the door behind myself.

Helping my sister, as she was slipping into these stockings had been fun; in a purely sisterly manner, the two of us have been enjoying for as long as I or we could remember. She is kind of like a second me. She helps me, and I help her.

By the time I had closed the door to my room, I have forgotten I wear the muzzle and the other accessories I had bought at the museum. It isn’t, as if I feel them on my skin in the first place; the design is flawless, just as one would have been expecting out of Rarity. This is after all a genuine Rarity design. Would I have bought these, had it not been genuine Rarity?

I breathe and speak unhindered, as if I had been born with this equine muzzle. While I had initially noticed how these ears are enhancing my hearing; but I don’t notice the ears themselves by any means, it feels as natural as if I had been born with them.

The tail hangs limp behind me, unless I flicker it in the equine manner of the Pony Rarity is. Even if the Rarity who designed it is her Human counterpart, it changes exactly nothing.

While it may have been a school trip, purely for educational purposes; I had enjoyed the trip, and I am still enjoying the fact that I had been there.

While I may have been enjoying Rarity before; both the stylish designs, and her generosity. But now, I had gained a new or renewed understanding and appreciation of who she is. Not just the image, of who she is and had been. It is not just her designs, I appreciate and adore; it is Rarity herself.

Now I had been offered the chance, the opportunity; to acquire a small part of her, for myself. With that, I had accepted the opportunity; purchasing a small selection, as memento of the trip I had been enjoying. Not that I had been the only one, to enjoy the trip; I had enjoyed the trip, with my sister or other self with my class.

Only now, I am back home; back in my own room, at our very own home. I am in my room, looking as if it had been a mirror of the room in which my sister is; just as she is identical to me, so my room is identical to her. However, we do enjoy culturing a few distinct differences; so that we can play the twin card, any and every time we so desire. If and when, this is convenient or entertaining. Knowing full well, how confusing it is for others in our surroundings; but this is, what it is to be identical twins.

If she is a minute older than me, but neither of us have any memory of these early days in our lives. It is the nature of things, you don’t truly form personal memories this early.

Now, I am alone in my own room. The means by which I am forming my personality separate from my twin. We are not by any means a matching set. I am me, and she is her. What’s the point of the confusion?

Since I can still hear Octavia on her Cello, I don’t bother playing any music of my own.

“Curious..” I mumble; “It’s still crystal clear sound, even in here after I had closed my door!” I ponder, in stark realization.

She is my twin, so it does not bother me; we largely share tastes, and mood most of the time.

Maybe I should be studying, too? Or, maybe I should have one last look; at my own trove of treasure?

“Of course..” I ponder; “I can always study, once I had gone over the mementos and placed them where I want them?” I ponder.

“Yes, I guess you could!” I hear my sister; almost as if she had been standing in my room, just a few feet away.

“Thank you, Sis!” I respond, without even realizing, that I had heard her from her room.

Of course, she had heard what I had said; since I have a microphone in the muzzle. I guess, she does have a microphone, on her touch-pad too. It is just so unexpected, to hear her response; when I had not expected her to, knowing she is studying in her room.

I never did consider this, maybe I should have; but since it is only my sister, who is hearing it I don’t need to care. If it is the distance to her room, that is negligible; or if it is something else, of which I do not know. I had never been the technical oriented girl in the first place. Not to say, I can’t handle technical applications as well, as the next girl.

Being so close to my sister, it is just binding us even tighter together; but I enjoy having her by my side, and hearing her is a comfort to me.

I do not, by any means sense her thoughts; or see what she is looking at. I am not in the same room, so I can only hear what she says, and predict her mood by experience. She is not just a sister or a twin, she is an identical twin. Besides, we do enjoy doing things together and spend time together quite alot.

“Of course, I had bought all the accessories; not just because they are genuine Rarity, but because I like them!” I ponder.

I had unpacked everything, I had bought at the trip to the museum; at the same time, my sister had. Just as I had put the accessories on. Though I had not put on any of the clothes, I had bought.

On second thought, I had bought myself a set of these stockings my sister is wearing; I had found them just as irresistibly beautiful and adorable, as my sister had.

However, it is not everything I had bought, as I was there. I had bought several ensembles, I intend to wear; once I am home, I can mix and match as I please. Knowing these are all genuine Rarity articles, I expect them to be comfortable and perfect fit for me. How and why, but if they are genuine Rarity; they just had to be, simple as that.

“I feel like trying on the new panties I purchased, and brought home; if for nothing other, than to experience them for myself!” I ponder.

With that, I am walking over to my wardrobe, only stopping to open the door; extracting the package, containing the panties and a top. Now, I am closing the door of my wardrobe; turning towards my bed, promptly deposing the prize on the top of my bed.

I had extracted a package containing ten pristinely white panties. Now I am picking out a single pair. The material is three millimeter thick, smooth and glossy as if polished.

“Of course, I will have to undress; before I can try them on, so I can enjoy wearing them..” I ponder.

While being alone, on my room; there is no problem, even if I know my sister is at home.

I have seen, everything there is to see; she is identical to me, as if we had been produced in the same mould. If I see her, it is as if I am looking at myself; if she sees me, it is as if she had been looking at herself. Maybe, we are too identical; but it is, how it is. No point in moaning, or complaining.

In store; we are the perfect mirror, for one-another. Convenient, and we never found it embarrassing. Why, it is how it is; it is all we ever knew, and it is everything we have.

With her, my sister, my twin; I can play the twin card, any time I so choose. Not even our mother can tell us apart, just swap the accessories; and I am her, while she is me. Even if I had told them, explained everything; they still see me, if I say I am me. Or, they see her if I said I was her.

It is not, as if I or she had to practice; we are identical by default, and I guess we never bothered to change it.

Why?

Why bother?

We are identical, and it is what we are and how we like it.

I could wear a pink skirt, a bow on the right side or twin tails if I want.

She could wear a red skirt, her bow on her left side or have her hair in a braid.

Maybe we do, and it is fun.

“Wait, I did not buy a pink skirt..” I think; “Blue, or purple would go better with my image of Rarity!” I ponder, giggling for a moment.

Wait, she bought the blue, so I think I could safely go with the purple.

“Red and pink, is just like blue and purple?” I ponder, in bemusement.

Slipping the skirt down, picking it up; just to place it onto my bed, rather than leaving it on the floor to collect dust. I slip my panties down, placing them on the skirt.

Now I pick up the pristine, white panties; stepping right into them with practiced ease, affording them a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice in order to acquire that perfect fit.

While they had slipped up, with the comforting ease of smooth silk or silicone; they momentarily feel strange on my skin, before they warm up to me and slowly blends in as if they had been worn or my skin. This is odd, but I almost forget them; as if I had always worn these panties, or other panties just like them. These are after all genuine Rarity design, but the warm silicon is highly elastic and adaptable. Maybe, just maybe; they still hold a shard or reflection of Rarity and her genuine generosity? I do not know, but I would love to imagine it is the case.

If my sister wears the blue skirt, I pick the purple counterpart to her metallic electric blue.

I had just picked up the skirt, now stepping into the skirt; pulling it up, affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice in order to acquire the perfect fit.

I can see the skirt hugging my hips, covering my thighs; as the purple material glisters with the metallic hue, with which she had imbued it.

“I do need to put on the rest of this ensemble; Rarity would not approve, of me wearing other or inferior clothes to ruin the ensemble she had put so much effort into designing for me!” I reflect; as I am looking around, for a moment.

“In the name of Rarity, I want to look my best!” I ponder, with a giggle; “And a B-Cup, should be just right!” I conclude, as I am picking the top out of its package.

With my hands over my head, I pull the skirt down slowly; affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice; in order to acquire that ever elusive perfect fit.

Now I slide up my hands along the sides of my body, gauging the result of the matching, white top I am wearing; feeling the firm bust on my chest, smooth and round.

“Excellent, excellent..” I ponder, as a wide grin of satisfaction is spreading out over my face.

Had I been looking into a mirror, I would have seen the smile spreading out seamlessly over my face; no telling where the muzzle ends, and where my original skin begins. Should it have scared, frightened me; or, should it be exciting me no end? I do not know; since I had not considered it, or realized it is something to ponder just yet.

Now, should I consider; or just enjoy the ride for all it is worth?

While I may be excited, but my nipples stay hidden; maintaining my appearance stylish.

“Whoa..” I ponder.

“I guess this is a genuine, Rarity design; she wants for me, to be presentable and fashionable at all times!” I ponder, as I giggle, at the reaction.

Of course, there is no response from my sister; she had not heard anything, since I had not vocalized my reaction. Guess I could be thankful for that. It would still have been embarrassing, even if it is my sister.

Why.

Why should there be a response?

She is busy, studying; while I am busy, with what I am doing right now.

I have no intention, of distracting or disturbing her.

No more, than I actually need to. I don’t need to distract her, and I certainly do not need or require her attention or confirmation right now.

Why?

What for?

On second thought, there is one more item of clothing to attend to, right now.

“Oh, wait; didn’t she present me, with that super cute matching purple blouse top?” I ponder.

Never quite catching on, how her stylish words had crept into my head. While it is still me, my thoughts; I am expressing myself, with her words. Her, Rarity’s words colouring my train of thoughts.

It may have been slow and gradual, but these are certainly Rarity’s words and expressions.

Weird. Isn’t it? Yet, I still do enjoy myself.

Maybe I had invited her in? Had I?

Looking at the item of clothing, as I am extracting it out of its original container; after I had picked up the package, opening it just to see the purple blouse top.

Of course; it is the same smooth, sleepk semi slippery and highly elastic material as everything else. I momentarily ogle the item before me. Observing the snug, tight and form-fitting cute she had given me. The design, I had chosen.

Had I tried to pull at the fabric, it would stretch out; because it is the design, rarity had crafted.

Now, I slip my right hand in, through the sleeve; feeling the cool and slippery material stretching as my hand slips all the way through.

I repeat the process, with my left arm; the result, and the experience exactly the same. With the exception; of the sleeve already covering my right arm, now.

Once the blouse top is finally on; I slowly, carefully and meticulously button it up all the way to the very last button just under my chin. From the first to the last. As I do, something change; almost as if the material had fused, leaving only the mark of the buttons.

At least, I am finally dressed up. I am wearing a complete ensemble, such as I had chosen it.

Looking around, momentarily; before I find it, the item of my search.

“Oh, but there it is!” I ponder.

I find the package, containing the unicorn horn. I had picked it up, at the museum; thinking nothing of it, only seeing a curious accessory.

The horn of Rarity’s, at first a mere plastic looking accessory. It is cool, to cold to the touch; though it soon warms up, to the touch of my skin.

While I could not quite place the texture of the horn’s surface; though its texture is fleeting and not quite feels as if it had decided on what it is, it slowly changes in a fluidly fluctuating manner. Moving between rubber and silicon at first, then slowly growing had, yet highly sensitive.

If hooves are hard and cold, to the touch; horns may still be hard, just not as cold as a hoof.

As I had picked up the horn, my horn; now there are changes, as I more the horn towards the top of my head, my forehead. The horn, originally dark and opaque.

I gently press the blunt edge of the horn onto my forehead, only to find it sticky and move so than I had been expecting. I had known it should stick to the skin of my forehead, I just had not realized the adhesive would be as strong or as deep effecting.

Had it not adhered to my skin, it would have been falling off; I would have been forced to hold it into place, constantly holding it in my hand. Now I am free, to move and to act; as if I had been born with the horn, or if it had never been there in the first place.

Had I known of this effect, or even suspected as much; would I have bought the thing, not to mention putting it onto my forehead?

Naturally the horn is sticking to the skin, just as intended and expected; but then the line between my skin and the pristine white horn starts to blur, as the horn visibly and physically is fusing to my head. Its position perfect.

Had I missed the spot, would it have stuck? I have no idea, but I had not yet noticed this. I have no mirror before me, so I can not see it. The sensations and sensitivities currently unchanged and still unchanging. As had been expected.

There is a momentary tingling sensation, st the tip of my horn.

I focus, and the horn starts to glow bright and illuminate the room with my native Unicorn magic.

“Wait, what!” I ponder, while remaining quiet; focusing, channeling the magic.

The sensation, had been nothing. The tingling; a cue, or a rouse. For me, to focus on what it had been representing. Once I am focusing, the sensation had already faded; I am focusing the magic.

I now feel the spark of heat, from the orb of my blue magic.

Of course, the magic is the colour of my eyes.

Incidentally, the colour my eyes matching the colour of the beautiful Rarity.

Just as Rarity’s horn, the skin of my face now the same bright white. Pristine, unblemished.

“Whoa, so bright!” I exclaim, as it hit home a moment later.

“Bright?” I hear my sister.

She may be surprised, but she is not an echo.

“The light..” I respond, as I continue to focus; “my magic..” I continue.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop; clippity-clop” I hear, as four hooves are hitting the floor.

I walk to the door, about to extend my hand in order to open the door; only to find the door magically opening by itself, under the influence on my magic. I had reached out, opening the door before I had even realized it.

In effect, I had continued walking. The next door, opening before me as if she had been opening it for me.

As I am entering the room, she is standing on all four; each of her hooves firmly on the floor, in the quadruped stance of a true equine.

It all makes sense, to me.

“She is my reflection..” I ponder.

It is a stark realization, even if I had known it all along. I had known it, all my life.

She is not just my twin, after all.

Author's Note