Waking up is never easy, for an old, lonely adult male, who got passed on at every chance for a girl to fuck him. I wish I wasn't that way, but what can I do? I can't just pull a vagina out of my hat, much less a wonderful friend who I could love and trust and who wasn't horrified and disgusted when I wanted sex, unlike everyone else in the world.

So I don't want to get up. I don't want to go to work. I don't want to feel those aches and pains that let me know I'm past the prime of my life. I wish I could do everything differently. I wish I could know how lonely I would feel, how alone I would get, and work harder to make friends in my childhood, real friends who care about me, and real female friends, who love it when I fuck them.

But now... all the good girls are married, and the ones left were too awful for anyone to marry, or domestic abuse cases with three children that she won't let anywhere near me once she learns how I'd raise them. Or just hateful of low-income virginal losers like myself, who couldn't have a positive attitude to save his life.

Even if I could have sex now, it'd be only a matter of time before she shut her legs and hated me. In all these decades of loneliness, with no one to put peer pressure on me to conform, I guess I've randomly drifted into some harmless but bizarre perversions, that almost every girl hates with a passion. Oh I'm not talking about male supremacy or any obvious stupidity like that. No, what would horrify her is to learn that I want to have had sex as a kid. If I could do it again, I'd find some underage girl and make friends with her, and... at least stand a chance at having fond memories of sex in my childhood.

It doesn't help that the little kids I really want to fuck as a little kid are mostly all adorable, pastel colored, furry, four hooved, magical... wait a sec. This isn't my room.

I blink the sleep out of my eyes, staring disbelievingly at a hospital room. Not like a room full of gurneys and benches, and people getting treated, but just a little... hospital room, all to myself. I know it's a hospital room, because there's a blue curtain folded up next to my bed, as well as medical equipment off to the side, with a heart monitor regularly beeping. The hell? Did I get amnesia or something? If I got in an accident, I sure as heck don't remember it. And then my eyes light upon something truly terrifying.

There's a little desk over by the door out of this little room, and on that desk is a bouquet of flowers, except even the petals littering the desk are withered and dried. They might have once been daisies, a pretty cheap flower to put in a bouquet, but now they're just a bundle of dried stems. Just how long have I been out??

I mean I feel... fine. I feel pretty good actually. That old pain in my neck is gone, my head resting painlessly and serenely against some fluffy pillows. I can't have been here that long, or I'd be all weak, and atrophied, and I don't even know how it works when you've been in a hospital long enough for the flowers to dry out. I wonder if that's the first bouquet. I wonder who'd take care of me in a hospital, and send me a bouquet.

I honestly don't think there's anyone in my life who would do that.

Well, if someone cared <i>that</i> much about me, I can't waste any time. There should be a call button somewhere around here, unless they didn't expect me to wake up. Struggling up, my legs feel... caught or something. Probably cramped from a long hospital stay. I feel kind of... odd in general. Not weak, just... the sheets feel oddly fuzzy, and my neck isn't just painless, it's moving really weirdly.

Well, not wanting to break anything any doctors had recently fixed, I lay back on the pillow and cautiously feel with my left and at the... what? My... my hand feels... I can't press the palm against the metal tray next to my bed. It uh... clacks? My hand... end makes an oddly jarring clack, as if there was a rock strapped to my... hand. Hospital equipment? Oh, the heart monitor?

I lift my hand in front of me, sitting up in bed to take a calm look at the soft, slim limb covered in a dense coat of pink fur, except for where it's shaved and taped over, with the tubes of an I.V. slowly draining fluid into my arm. It's not a perfect cylinder. My hoof has a definite joint, where it kind of dangles forward a little bit when it I hold it in front of myself.

My heart monitor starts beeping faster.

"What?" I ask in abject disbelief, my voice high and thin. "What the hell!" i exclaim, looking up at the all too normal hospital room around me, everything sharply in focus. "Am I a--is that <i>my</i> voice?!" I declare in a girly, squirrely chirrup that would come from no man's mouth. My other arm's just as furry and hooved, and my blanket, I push away to reveal a... a round, belly between two thick, stout thighs, all covered in a smooth coat of soft pink fur. I feel something tug underneath the blanket I pushed off my feet. I have a <i>tail?</i>

"This's impossible..." I say, rolling to my side, taking care not to roll on the I.V. which remains injected into my left arm. "Am I a <i>mare?"</i>

I clumsily lower a hoof, sliding it between my thighs, lifting one just enough so I can feel under there. I'm very... soft... I don't know how to describe how I feel. But what I don't feel are testicles. So either I'm a very high voiced colt who's show accurate, or I'm a girl. I... don't know how I feel about that. Is this some kind of wish fulfillment? I don't <i>mind</i> being a girl I guess, I just I-I had always wondered what a girl's groin felt like, and here I am, feeling it. Or... show accurate and not feeling it. 

Laying on my back again, my tail threatens to escape its blanket prison, swishing under me in confusion as I don't know how to move the darn thing! But I manage to roll on my back, curling forward to look at what my hoof is poking at between my legs. My belly's so... <i>round</i> down there, especially when I sit forward, my feet pressing against the bed as I lift my hips and... spread myself with a hoof.

Like just... pushing my butt cheek with a hoof, denting the flesh, to make the soft, pink-furred entrance into my round pelvis slide open, a lighter pink than my fur, and kind of... moist looking? I am <i>definitely</i> not show accurate.

Well, releasing the tension on the furry pony hide of my butt causes that cool, soft feeling parting in my groin to slide neatly closed, into a cute little... pocket. 

"Okay, uh..." I say in a girl's voice, laying back to stare at the ceiling, "I seem to be a pony. A mare, or a filly, I guess. This is... impossible!"

My astounded whisper does nothing to make it any less impossible, yet here I stare at a fluorescently lit ceiling, I think, with... a tail shifting underneath the blankets. I sit up again and lift the blanket, looking dumbly under it to see a lush, brushlike horse's tail extending from the small of my back, a deep magenta in color. I'm uh... I don't actually know which pony would be this color. I know Cheerilee is pink and... other pink. "Test, test," I say, touching a hoof to my throat, and I don't <i>sound</i> Cheerileeish. My voice is more... wispy. And... kind of nasal, I guess?

I feel at my snout in my forehooves, an honest to gosh pony snout, crossing my eyes to look at it. This is impossible. There's no way I'm feeling this! I have to be deluded or... or something, when I inhale through those little nostrils at the end of my pink, furry snout, and... "Okay, don't talk with your nose plugged," I say cautiously, sounding a little... better. I guess I have to practice, if I want to sound like a sweet little filly, instead of a little filly who sounds like she's unused to talking with a pony's snout. 

How am I even forming words? I lick my lips with my tongue, and press them together, then purse my lips, then give up because I am getting the feeling I'm not going to understand what's going on here for a <i>long</i> long time.

So I... look at my bright pink rump. Oh, no cutie mark. I guess that means I am a foal. Not the CMC though. Which filly had light pink fur and a dark pink tail? Well, anyway, I lean on... a big weird thing that presses into the hospital bed, when my right arm plants down on what must be my hoof that I'm feeling. The bed feels... springy underneath it. But leaning on my new hoof, I look through what's on that tray, finding something that has a button on it at least, hopefully the call button. I touch it with a hoof, then pull back my hoof. That wasn't a hand, was it.

Oh well, I look at the call button and sort of lean my neck down, hunching over to cautiously grip the call button between my teeth. Then I pull back, sinking to my haunches again, dropping the call button onto the bed next to me. I awkwardly squirm that rump back under the blankets then, dragging them up my round ass and my less round side by scraping them along in my hooves. Once I'm as covered as I'm going to be, I lay my head back against the pillows, and blindly hunt around for the button with my left arm. I'm pretty sure if I was a real horse, I wouldn't be able to turn my arm out to the side like this. But I'm <i>definitely</i> a pony. No way a human would fit into a costume like this, where my neck's all thick and strong, and I can actually feel the blankets sliding along my skin, and catching on my tail. Which moves, when muscles flex within me.

Aha, there's the call button. Something to think about besides all these strange sensations like my heel's glued to my knee  or something. I push the button, and hear a distant buzzing noise. I push the button again, then wait. I just start to push it a third time, when I hear the sound of hoofbeats on a carpeted floor. Thump thududump and such. Bursting through the door across my room is a white pony with a cotton candy pink mane, and a nurse's cap balanced between her ears. 

She meets my eyes with her own somewhat narrow pupiled ones, with irises of deep blue.
My heart monitor picks up again. It's a real pony! That means I'm in Equestria! Not just any pony, it's Nurse Redheart! That means I'm in Ponyville! Equestria being the grand nation where ponies live and grow, and Ponyville being that town in Equestria where they put the crazy horses. 

And just seeing a second pony makes it seem so more real. It's not just in my head. There are other ponies here! I'm not looking at a monitor screen, I'm just looking across the room, where a living breathing pink haired pony stares at me with eyes of blue. I stare at her in shock, as she stares back at me in equal, if not greater shock. Then her face breaks in a... scared smile. 

"Hi there, cutie!" she says slowly, walking into the room. "How are you feeling?"

Still laying in my bed without rising, I say uncertainly, "Good?"

"How do you feel?" she asks hopefully, "Any headaches, aches or pains?"

"I don't think so," I tell her worriedly, "Am I... okay?"

Her stiff ears relax, and tilt down at that, on either side of her nurse's cap. "You've been very ill for a long time," she tells me seriously, "But you're going to be okay now. How much do you remember?"

Of <i>my</i> life, or the life of this pony I've become?

"I'm not sure," I answer unhappily, but honestly.

"Do you remember your mother?" she asks, lifting a hoof to her chest and trying to smile.

"I... I don't think so," I tell her, sounding more like a scared little girl than I'd like to. "Does she have... um... w-what kind of color fur does she have?"

"She has pink fur, somewhat lavender," the nurse says, "Her hair is a medium cerise."

"What's cerise?" I ask in frustration, because I don't know anything about colors. Am I gonna have to?

"It's like the main color of your tail," she explains, "But slightly bluer. It's okay if you don't remember her."

"It is?" I say in alarm, "But won't it make her upset?"

Looking aside, the nurse chooses her words very carefully, looking at me and saying, "You might have... a lot of things to learn again."

Walking up to my bedside, the nurse pony is huge! Like... easily standing beside the bed, like a huge horse, where I'd have had to climb down from it. And she'd actually fit on this entire bed instead of just half of it. I've gotta be a foal then. A... a kid! The nurse could practically pick me up in just one of her huge, smooth hooves. And she's talking about my mother. I... wish it weren't the case, but if I was an adult pony, I can't imagine her mother would be as big of a part in her life, that it was the first thing the nurse asked me about after I came out of a coma or whatever.

"It's amazing that you're awake," she says without the conviction of a pony who actually believes it. I don't understand. "Your mother might be... sad," the nurse tells me, hesitantly lifting a hoof, then reaching out to lay it against the hair on my head, with a soft stroking motion. "But it's important to show her that even if you don't remember, she's still your mother, and you still love her. She went through a lot, to save you, and I'm afraid she loves you with all her heart. Even if she seems... sad, she needs you to be there for her. So just... give her a chance, alright sweetie? She can be your new mommy, even if you don't remember she's your real mommy."

Yeah, the... pony who gave birth to me, whose blood flows through my veins, and whose tits I sucked on to grow big and strong. I don't think I need to remember her to love her. I just have to remember that my body came from her body at one point.

"It's okay Nurse Redheart," I tell the nurse relatively calmly, hooking an IV'd arm around hers laid atop my head, "I do remember that foals come out of their mommy's belly, so that makes me a piece of her belly, that started to be a pony. So that means her belly's special to me, which means she's special to me. Does that make sense?"

"It... does, but I'm not sure..." the nurse says, looking at me apprehensively, so releasing her hoof I hastily add,

"I mean I'm sorry I don't remember her, but I think I can try to love her. I... wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her, right? That's gotta count for something."

And now the nurse is backing away, staring at me with scared, liquid eyes, saying in a choked voice, "Yes, it... it does, it... I'm sorry, excuse me." Then she canters out of the room. I still hear her though, even if the door closed, long enough for a sob to escape her before she hurries too far for me to hear her. Why does she... care so much? I'm just a patient, right? She's not like, related to me too, is she?

I'm not confused about who I was, a man and a miserable failure, forever alone. But... I have pink fur, that came from a mare's womb. I have a pony musculature that came from her womb, a pony bone structure. She pushed this body out of her cunt, and I'm... kind of really ready to be somebody's child again. Could I really get a second childhood? Could I make the most of it this time? And just what happened to this filly I am, who can only remember the life of someone else?

I'm also um... alone, in the hospital room still, and kind of bored. And the nurse is gone, but I don't dare push the call button again, considering the state she was in when she ran out. So what do I do now?

Nothing, apparently. "Ugh," I squirp, laying back against the pillow. I can't get up and try to walk anywhere, because I've got an I.V. in my arm right now, and trying to move would just risk tearing it out. So I get to sit there for five whole <i>minutes,</i> before the nurse comes back, red-eyed, but no longer crying.

"Sorry about that," she says with a nervous laugh, easing herself into your room. "I didn't expect you to be so... nice."

"Well I try not to be nice, but I do slip up every now and then," I say wryly, and actually this voice is <i>great</i> for sounding wry! I just sound so... terribly genuine.

She looks me in the eye with surprise, then an amused chuckle rises up along with her hoof, to cover her mouth in case it tries to escape. "I think you're gonna do just fine," she says gladly, planting her hoof again and walking to my bedside. "Would you like me to go get your mommy, then? She's working now, so it might take us a little time to track her down."

Huh. So... ponies don't have cell phones, check. And I don't exactly expect this mother of mine to sit in a bedside vigil the whole time, but mothers do tend to do that, which makes me wonder even more how long I've... or this filly has been unconscious. "You can," I tell the nurse, adding, "H-how long was I ...asleep?"

"It's... been a..." the nurse says with another uneasy smile, "Hard couple of years."

Damn...

"So... that means for the last two years, you've been my mommy?" I suggest innocently.

"We--well I wouldn't... I mean I've been your primary caretaker, but... seriously, filly?" the nurse stammers with a pained look, "That's the first thing that comes to your mind?"

"Mommies are very important to little fillies," I insist unrepentently, "Though if it's been two years, I dunno if I'm a <i>little</i> filly anymore."

"Well, two going on three," the nurse says thoughtfully, "You're still a good ways away from your growth period, though."

"How old am I?" I ask curiously.

"You're um... almost nine," the nurse says tentatively, "I'm sure you'll get all the help you need, catching up on your reading though."

"So, I was six, when I... went to sleep?" I ask.

"Y-yes," she says with a wince, "Six going on seven. You had an... accident. I think you're gonna be all better though."

"I still don't remember anything," I say softly, "Only bits and pieces, and it doesn't seem real."

"Oh that's... perfectly normal," the nurse says turning her wince into a smile, poorly. "You really uh... think of it like somepony emptied your head right out, so your memories might be kind of... scarce."

"Alright," I say cautiously, "And um... I'm better now?"

"Yes that's right," she says with a smile, "Your mother should be here soon to... say hello to you."

"Okay," I tell her, "So she's gonna be sad, but happy, I guess?"

Squaring her lips, the nurse nods frankly.

"I'll do my best to... be good, then," I say, not sure of <i>how</i> I'm supposed to act like somepony's bedridden little filly, but I sure can do my best.

It's only after the nurse has left that I groan, and cover my face in those pink hooves. I totally forgot to ask her what my mother's name is! I try to brainstorm for a while, but I really don't know many of the foals from the show. There's... Derpy and that Crackle Pop colt, but wasn't that supposed to be siblings? Actually I think Sweetie Belle might be the only young kid in Ponyville who has confirmed, not-dead parents. So who's my parent then? I"m... pink, that much is for sure. And my tail is... darker pink. Not much information to work with. Am I even in Ponyville? I haven't seen outside this room yet!

The only clue I'm in Ponyville is Nurse Redheart, and for all I know maybe she has clones in every city like Nurse Joy. No, no I refuse to believe I'm in a world with such an awful premise as pokémon. I really have... freaking hooves. They clop when I put my forehooves together. The big... half-cylinder hard things clop together. Not actually cylinders, they sort of have a slight edge to them in front, like my hooves are arrows pointing towards wherever my leg is pointed.

Did I mention I'm reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally bored?

Tell, it isn't long befor finally the pony who calls herself my mother arrives. I've got butterflies in my stomach about this. What if she hates me? What if she thinks I stole her little filly? What if she caused that little filly to be in the hospital like this? 

Please don't be Spoiled Rich, please don't be Spoiled Rich.

Well the nurse prepares me as much as she can, I guess, since I was too dumb to ask what my mom's name is. "Okay, your mother is here, honey," Nurse Redheart tells me. "Do you feel like you're up to meeting with her?" she asks sweetly.

"Is she up to meeting with me?" I ask. And that's about as much time we have before my mother comes into the room.

I may not know much, but as soon as the mare---my mother---walks into the room around from behind Nurse Redheart, it all comes falling into place, like a collapsing house of cards. "I'm <i>Pinchy!"</i> I shout in astonishment, as the pink and darker pink pony, with grapes and a strawberry on her flank comes tip-toeing into the room.

She stares in astonishment with eyes the color of her mane, as I blushingly add, "O-or maybe I'm Pina Colada--"

"Pina's my sister!" the pony named Berryshine squeals in exasperation. Then seeming to realize who she's talking to, or who she appears to be talking to, she shivers and says, "P...pinchy? Are you... okay?"

I... am okay, actually. It's funny because I was never going to be okay. All hope was lost. I was just going to die alone and sad. And now... I have to be <i>her</i> daughter, seriously?! But it's another chance maybe... maybe for both of us.

"Yeah, I think I'm okay now, m-mommy," I say warily, wishing for more of a catharsis, hoping that's what I used to call her.

I guess I got it right, because the darker pink mare tears up at my words, and charges forward like a raging bull, sweeping me up in her arms and hugging me, leaving the lower half of me dangling on the bed under the covers, leaving the upper half of me squeaking, "Mommy--! I have an IV!!" 

Sticking out my intubated leg to try to keep her from dislodging it. I think I succeed. And... she's really warm. I can't remember the last time anyone hugged me. Her forearms wrap around my back as her head rests on my left shoulder. I can feel her chest rise and fall as its soft fur meshes with mine. I can feel myself warming up to her, the love rising in me from a hug that lasts. Cautious of my IV I start hugging her back as much as my little body's capable. She shudders against me, and breathes hoarsely, brokenly, as her tears start to soak the fur of my shoulder. I don't know what to say to her, so I just... hold her against me, as much as she desperately clings to me in her most clumby forehooves.

When she gets done sobbing into my entirely too small to cry into shoulder, she releases her tight hold, pulling back to stand before my bed on all fours, with a weak half-smile as she says, "S-sorry, I just had to. I know you're... different now. It's just been really <i>hard</i> it's... been really hard. And you don't... recognize me, and that's okay. Sorry I hugged you."

I don't know how to tell her. Are these my old memories, resurfacing in the form of a pony cartoon that was too good to have ever possibly existed? How do you tell someone <i>that?</i> "I... don't remember much, at all," I tell her very carefully, "About you, or about me, or anything. But...

"I do recognize you," I tell her with a strange fear rising in me, because I shouldn't recognize her, because I shouldn't be her daughter. I should just be who I was, lonely, male and hated just for being who I was. Why did the cartoon exist though? It was too good to be true, a perfect combination of friendship, animals, magic, and quality. And that's how I know the mare I just called mommy. Did My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic ever really exist?

What I tell her is, "I do recognize you. I remember that you're my mommy, or... the mom of whoever I am. So it's okay if you hug me."

She smiles at that, the sort of giddy smile of a pony afraid of things going right, saying, "T-thanks Pinchy. Can I still call you Pinchy?"

"...Is my name Ruby Pinch?" I ask cautiously.

"Yeah," she replies shyly. And seeing a big pony be shy right next to me is... even more adorable than seeing a little one do it. She's so &heart;!

"What's your name?" I follow up, "I mean, I can just call you mommy, but I probably should know."

"H-heh, yeah it's... it's fine either way," she says with a smile breaking through her nervousness, "I've never been a real... mommy type. My name's Berry, like your name's Ruby."

"Berry Punch?" I suggest.

Shaking her head, the larger mare says, "No, my name's Berry Pinch, but Berry Punch is kind of a uh... nickname ponies give me."

Berry... huh. "So does that mean I get to call <i>you</i> Pinchy?" I ask.

"N-no! I mean... what? I'm not a foal," she protests in confusion. "Y-you can call me Berry if you want."

I've got about a million more questions from that response alone, so I say, "...okay, but I can still call you mommy too."

Her smile grows genuine, and she says, "Yeah, I guess you can."

I'll get my questions answered later, when I've gotten an idea of just what the hell my situation is. For now, my whole world's a hospital room, and... a mother I only remember through a mysterious cartoon that was larger than life. I just need to... take stock for a while, before I'm sure what I should ask.

"I don't remember anything else about you though mommy," I tell her apologetically, "Not really. I remember you like um..." Juice? Booze? Getting hammered? Getting hammered, having sex with like five stallions, then giving birth to me? Somehow not producing a retarded cretin, despite being pregnant and alcoholic? I <i>really</i> hope what I've heard about Berryshine isn't some sort of... re-encoded memories. Because that means... I have to save her. I'm not so sure I can save anyone from that.

"Berries?" I try with a weak smile.

With an unreadable expression, she says, "Yeah, berries. Something like that." Oh fuck me.