“All I wanted to do was sleep,” I mumble into the floor. “Heaven forbid you get into your own room!” I answer myself, disgustedly, glaring at that stupid knob blocking me from entering my own girly, pastel colored inner sanctum. I have to answer myself, because there’s no other Sweetie Belle talking to me anymore! “Stupid doorknobs,” I mumble, using my forelegs to push myself up onto my white unicorn butt, continuing to glare at the round knob sticking out of my bedroom door, through stupid pink and purple curls that I have to stupidly shake to flounce them up around my horn, away from obstructing my eyes. Yep, I’m Sweetie Belle alright. A frustrated huff fills my chest, as I move my forehooves to shakily turn my rear around until my back is to the room. Standing up on those four broad hooves, that take my weight a lot more confidently than I give it, I stare at the stairs glumly, then look back at my door. “Guess I’ll have to learn how to use magic, if I want to use doorknobs,” I say, trying not to think of how Lyra just... opened one right in front of me. It was just like magic, but not real magic. I just need to ask somepony again about how to navigate the world. They’ll teach me how to use the magic doorknobs. In the meantime, I might as well try to get back downstairs to try and find a way to fill my rather achingly empty belly. Now, it was just this morning I had to practice on stairs, so I’m not entirely sure of myself, but I fight back my nervousness and put a hoof down a step, leaning back as I do so. I’d only fall one flight if I slipped anyway, so it can’t hurt worse than falling down two flights, like earlier today when I went to the study hall silo... place. Thus, with great care I climb down a step, and then another, three hooves holding me firmly in place while I lift the one that needs to move forward. Going down a step with my forelegs, then collecting my hindlegs on that step before going down another. After the second flight down, I’m on the second floor, pausing to catch my wind. There, my ear twitches at a noise, the sound of two muffled voices speaking. Turning my head in interest, I realize that my parents are probably here after all! I thought the house was empty, but there come their voices from behind the closed door here. Maybe they can teach me how doorknobs work! Sidling up to the door I make ready to knock, until I hear a louder moan erupt from within, and my hoof freezes in place. Ohh no. Oh no no no. “Oh honey, could you be any tighter?” my dad’s loving voice floats out through the door. “Just keep pushing!” her voice comes sounding more agitated, and urgent. “Don’t wanna hurt you little lady,” he says, “Just doin’ what I gotta—do!” There’s just frantic moaning and grunting then, whereupon mom shouts out, “It’s in! It’s all the way in!” Oh god it’s in. I think my parents are fucking right now. “Oh honey you feel so good!” dad exclaims heavily. “Ahh—I love ya—so much dear,” she answers in a sharp voice broken by heavy panting. Oh but wait, maybe they’re just moving furniture? “Mmhm, think I’m gonna put another baby in that,” he rumbles out. “Then fill me, you stallion ahh” comes her gasping reply. help I can’t stop listening. My whole face feels like it’s blushing. The words stop, but the sounds, the grunting, and the needy huffing that comes out in a very familiar rhythm. The rhythm of one pony thrusting his dick into another. Wasn’t I supposed to hate the idea of my parents doing... this? But they sound like they’re making each other feel so good, because they love each other so much. How could I hate that? He’s... he’s actually gonna... am I—I mean, is Sweetie Belle going to have a younger sister now? That wasn’t in the show at all! I just can’t help but listen, to the wet slaps, the urgent cries slowly peaking in passion. They can’t even talk anymore, just freaking mating like animals. I–I want to touch myself. I can freaking touch myself just like a little filly while my parents are doing it. My hips jerk up as my hoof touches a familiar moistness between them. That teeny little cunny that I have. It wouldn’t be teeny after his dick though. I find myself rubbing that tingly fleshy place in steady strokes to the same rhythm of my parents doing ...that. Fucking each other. Oh it feels so good. How long has it been? I can’t even stop trembling at the feelings, and have to bite my lip to keep from crying out. It feels... really, really pleasant. I’m stuck at that point. I just have to stand there, Sweetie Belle, with my rump piked up in the air and my hoof pad mashing up into my little filly lips, ripples of pleasure shivering through me as my parents—no—her parents prepare to make Sweetie Belle version 2.0. And then it—happens~! No, not my orgasm. But my heart surges with... is it excitement? Sympathy? Passion? Mom just starts giving wordless shouts of anxious relief as Dad goes totally quiet, just “Ahh! Ahhh! Ahh!” and I... I forget to count, but it’s a lot. Then she too goes quiet after a final, long, tremulous moan. Oh jeez they’re... they did it! They just... did it... I can’t stop touching myself I–I’m gonna orgasm right outside their bedroom door. “Oh honey bear, you are the greatest stallion ever,” my mom’s tired voice emanates from that terrible bedroom door. “Anything for you, sweet cheeks,” he says, the slight shifting as their bodies move together, or slide apart. I can’t tell, because I can only hear their movement in there. “Ya really did me over,” mom says in a quivery but snarky voice. “Y’see how sloppy it is?” Freaking—sloppy—! “Uh oh,” he says cautiously, “I wonder what time it is.” “Lemme check,” she states, followed by her twinkling magic that I can hear, and feel beyond the door. “Oh Sweetie should be here for dinner soon,” she remarks casually. I completely freeze in place. “You get yourself all cleaned up honey,” dad’s gentle if teasing tone drifts through my ear practically pressed against the door. “I’ll go field Sweetie downstairs, until you’re all decent.” Yep, yep, heard enough. Not listening anymore. Backing up on bottom. Butt on ground is uncomfortably moist, hope no one notices! No visible trail, probably safe. I get to the stairs and—and slide down them. Not in the fun way, but the way where you stretch out your hooves and just make yourself a stiff plane while the stairs push painfully into your belly as you bumble down them by wiggling forward. I meant to jump, but that would have been too noisy, so I just lay down instead of jumping and—and it worked, okay?! I touch the ground, pulling myself off the stairs, just as up the stairs behind me the door upstairs opens wide. Shit! Shit! Shit! Okay uh, walk! Yes, lift hoof, what were the numbers AUGH FORGET THE NUMBERS just jump forward and oop, falling now, woah, catching balance, and walk, walk, walk, trip, roll... I’m in the kitchen. I’m upside down, with my back flopped against a cabinet and my tail dangling in my face, but somehow, I’m in the kitchen! Dad reaches the kitchen doorway, and looks in going, “Oh! Sweetie! You’re here already!” Lifting my tail from my face, I say, “I just walked in. I tripped and fell when I went to the kitchen to get some food, which is the first thing I did!” ...that wasn’t smooth as silk. “I mean...” I flop onto my side, lifting up my head nervously. “I just got in. I haven’t even had time to try getting anything to eat.” Okay, that was ...slightly better. I can’t tell but I think dad’s face relaxes at that. He always has a pretty relaxed look about him. I dunno, I’m not a moustache reader! “Don’t worry about that, Sweetie,” he says kindly, “Why don’t you help me with dinner? I bet we can cook up something real tasty!” ...uh oh. “Are you sure it’s... safe?” I ask nervously. “Don’t worry, Sweetie!” he laughs. “I’ll do all the choppin’ and you can mix the salad okay?” “Okay...” I say, walking up to a bowl he levitates down from a cabinet to the counters, which are about eye level for me. I rear up on the counter to look at the empty smooth wooden bowl, and then look at him searchingly. But he’s looking back exactly the same. “Oh of course,” dad says shaking his head, “You don’t remember what you like, so you can’t exactly call it out!” “Oh... yes um...” I glance quickly down to the bowl, saying, “A little bit of everything? Then I can learn what I like... again.” He gets to chopping vegetables, with his hooves go figure. The knife handle is actually shaped to grip with a hoof, more a triangular fan shape with a groove in it, rather than a thin stick. He chops away, and a dizzying array of salad makings wreathed in blue sparkles start to soar my way, depositing themselves in neat piles here and there. I see carrots, and sprouts, and lettuce, and peas and... I’m not sure what that is, and some flowers that look like daisies, and well basically a ton of stuff, about half of which I’d actually put in a salad. “Well, go ahead Sweetie,” he says, making me realize I’m actually supposed to be doing things. A similarly handled spatula lets me scoop up each... pile, depositing it in the bowl, then gripping the side with a hoof in order to shake that big bowl around. I can’t resist trying one of the flowers; they just look darn tasty and I’m curious. They taste kind of like... sweet sunny meadows. I dunno, it’s weird how there are like a million different tastes now, that all fall under the category of “grass.” Sweetie Belle’s tastebuds are definitely suited for an herbivorous meal. Which is odd, since he serves the salad with a side of fish. One minute I’m sitting there playing with how to mix the green stuff in with the blue leaves, when I hear a sizzling sound. Expecting fried hay or the like, I look over to the stovetop only to see an honest to gosh gutted, scaled fish. Mother comes down the stairs looking... very healthy. Yeah, that’s it. Healthy. She looks like she’s just about glowing with health and stuffing her vagina. Totally innocent, yup. She’s in a really good mood too, and immediately starts warming up some bread she picked up at the bakery today. And dad fries fish. So... there it is, on a plate next to some hay bread, with generous helping of prolific salad: a slice of fish. It’s not like I’m opposed to eating fish I mean if it’s even possible with this herbivore body. Is it just a unicorn thing, or...? “Hey now Sweetie,” dad says in a disappointed tone, “Aren’t ya gonna eat any of that? Don’t you remember we both worked hard on it?” I give my father a wan look. “It’s just hard to remember,” I say somewhat sullenly, “I was going to eat it. I just was looking at it. Is fish really... okay?” Damn, bad question. Of course fish is okay, I should ask if other ponies are eating it too. “Don’t worry so much,” mom says, levitating a fork with her fish speared on it. “A little bit’s good for ya, and I sure don’t see the fish complaining!” The two chuckle at each other over that, looking at me like they’re worried I won’t eat it. So I shrug and take a bite of fish. It’s um... fishy. It doesn’t taste especially good, but just like regular fish. Whitefish, I think? As the actual literal meat melts in my foal pony mouth, both my parents—I mean her parents—smile and go back to eating. Well, I don’t bother with the rest of the fish then and spend some time enjoying my salad. It really drives home how much things have changed for me, that fish would still taste like fish, but leaves and chopped vegetables would taste so much better, each crunchy bite a sweet and satisfying explosion of flavor in my mouth. And the flowers actually aren’t my favorite, but those thick, dark green leaves with the red veins? Ohhh yes. And... somewhere in there I finish the bit of fish, just because it’s there I guess. A silent prayer to whoever died to make that bit of meat on my plate, hopefully now in fish heaven. No, I’m not really that much of a bleeding heart saint. Just covering my bases, providing basic courtesy. I don’t feel too bad about it, because I know from the show that fish don’t really... talk or anything. Except to Fluttershy. And she kills them, so it can’t be that bad. With my fuzzy, white, and apparantly partially carnivorous belly fat and happy from dinner, that leaves our evening activities. Which I have no idea what are. So, I wobble amiably after my mother who says, “Oh you don’t even know this is gonna be such a surprise!” leading me into the bathroom where she probably wants to surprise me by having a bath. The water is already drawn when I make it into the room, hot and steamy past the drying zone. And in the bathtub is i-is t-the te- tuh-du-to-ba-bewa “C’mon Sweetie!” dad shouts from his relaxing position in the tub. “Let’s all take a bath, together!” I don’t know what to say. I’m too freaking freaked out and disoriented to come up with any kind of rebuttal. I just numbly let my mother lead me to the bathtub and give a telekinetic shove on my butt to help me climb over the edge and fall into the water. Then she gets in, one naked, recently fucked leg after another. And he’s right there and a-a-and They start to wonder when I can’t even move, just cringing off to myself as much as I can do in this admittedly large tub. There aren’t even any bubbles so you can see everything. And you can see everything outside of the bath anyway, but... but this is a bath! It’s just... they’re on their backs, so their crotches are right there! Through the rippling water, dad’s soft sheath. He really did, had a... a penis and he really put it into her. That’s how I exist, so it had to happen at least once! And... did I really just hear them doing it just right before dinner? “Sweetie, what’s wrong?” mom whines at me. “You haven’t even budged an inch. Aren’t you gonna, I dunno, play in the water or something?” “Maybe I should get some of her toys,” dad says to her over me. “No, I’m fine I just... um...” I say nervously, steeling my will to get up off my haunches, and swivel around so that I’m sitting on my back too. “I’m fine, really,” I say unconvincingly, trying to lie there like it ain’t no thang. A pause, and it occurs to me to add, “But I wouldn’t mind some toys. What do I play with in the bath?” Pretty soon my dad is having the time of his life pushing colorful boats around us in the water making motor noises as he does. I manage to get a squeaky dolphin from him, which is actually kind of cool since I can easily squeak it just by putting it in the crook of my hoof and squeezing. Sort of like squeaking a rubber duckie with only your finger. But I can’t really focus on that with him navigating his tiny armada around my half immersed body saying, “Captain’s log 1429 we are moored off the bow of port Sweetie Belle. All is quiet for now...” and the like. I would be more weirded out, but it looks like dad’s genuinely enjoying himself, not just trying to do it for my sake. It’s kind of adorable really. I get an idea and grab one of the boats he’s lost track of saying, “Uh oh, here comes a boat from around the bay!” “Are they friendly?” he asks. Huh? How am I supposed to know if—oh, uh... “Ahoy!” he calls out, saving me from having to think up an answer. “Be ya a trading vessel, or a galleon of the gryphon king? Or maybe a cruise ship?” “Or maybe...” I say aiming the little wooden boat right at the two ships on his hooves, “A pirate ship!” and then I careen it right over to him shouting, “Rarrr!” “Oh no, it’s pirates!” he exclaims in terror, his ships spreading apart while mine cuts a wake between them, circling around to knock against the one in his left hoof. “Yarr!” I continue to utter in a very intimidating fashion as we smack boats together, “I’ll take all your gold! Fresh booty, right off the port bow! Raise the mizzen...um.. mast thing!” “Fire all the cannons!” he quietly shouts, “We can’t lose our treasure to some mangy sea dogs!” “Oh no, I’m hit!” I squee eagerly, “My ship is sinking! My...” actually this pushapull thing is really convenient for sliding boats smoothly at the level of the water, but it doesn’t seem to work very well for pulling buoyant things underwater. So I take the other forehoof and step on the boat from above, pushing it underwater, saying, “My ship is sinking and also a giant hoof is squishing it! I better swim to Sweetie Belle Island, where I can hide out until I’m ready to strike again!” “Sending a landing party to Sweetie Belle Island,” dad smoothly replies, releasing his boats, “We’ll get those pirates and bring them to justice!” He reaches towards me and oh shit— I would be horribly traumatized, but it’s about then that I learn that Sweetie Belle is ticklish. Very ticklish. And he knows all the right spots. Which I don’t, but I learn very quickly. Pushing me back with his hooves poking softly but persistently under my ribcage, rubbing under my arms right where my foreleg hooks down, while I can’t stop squealing and laughing as if absolutely delighted, while flailing frantically trying to get away. Help! “I think they might be hiding here!” he says hooking my hind hoof and starts poking the tip of the other one into my pad—! I may have been tickled further, but that’s when I slip and my head drops under the water for just long enough to inhale some. He stops at once, and then holds me steady while I cough convulsively getting the water out, and making my head spin. Once I get my wind back, I realize he’s actually holding me, like he’s actually holding me. The pony who not an hour ago was fucking my mom—her mom—his wife. And yet... somehow I can’t really find it in me to be upset about this. I just tilt my head back, staring up at his chin through my dripping wet pink and purple curls plastered against my head. I know it’s wrong but... maybe it was the tickling I dunno. I just try to ignore the proximity of his man parts, and the place where I have girl parts in which he probably couldn’t fit, and... not get upset with him holding me steady on his leg. Okay maybe I am a little... nervous, but you know I can totally relax and um... relax, yeah. Just focus on relaxing. Mom pulls the plug. Which is to say to let the water gurgle out mysteriously through the bottom of the tub. “Alright Sweetie, up and at ‘em” dad says, lifting me in his forehooves to dangle over the side of the tub, where I settle wetly to the floor, a sopping pile of legs and fur. I really want to shake off. Like, an itch that needs to be scratched level of want. I totally did it before, so I heave up onto my legs and just shake my head, letting the rest of my body follow suit. I’m less wet now and... oops, the bathroom would have been more wet, if mom hadn’t put her body in the way between me and the wall. “Wait for the dryer honey,” she tells me chidingly, to which I blush and meekly comply. Just as if I was really her daughter. It’s not like I’m trying to be her daughter. I guess it’s just poetic justice that I end up in an 8 year old body, because young or old, I never showed any more wisdom or common sense than an 8 year old. As the dryer place at the bathroom’s exit lightens my fur and fluffs up my hair again, the crazy events of today spin through my head. I can’t believe I told someone. I can’t believe I didn’t tell someone until now. I can’t believe how much fun that crazy college was. I didn’t know Ponyville had a college. Something about that I’m forgetting, some connection to it just on the tip of my mental tongue. I can’t believe mom and dad—! Yeah, they... did that, and it’s perfectly normal. I’m just not used to having parents who... do that. When I’m too worn out to walk after tooth brushing and dad carries me half asleep to drop me into my bed, he’s a perfectly normal s-stallion, and he’s just paying extra attention to me because he... because I’m so nervous around him and Sweetie Belle isn’t supposed to be. He pulls up the covers with his mouth because that’s what normal stallions do, who also fuck their lawfully wedded wife in private. Nothing wrong with that I just... it’s just so weird... Oh, huh. I fell asleep. I didn’t even notice, until it was morning already. Feeling a lot more well rested, I open my eyes to the glimmering of dawn through the window, and the quiet creaking of the windmill adjacent to our house. I guess I don’t have a nightmare every night. I’m really starting to wonder about those; it doesn’t seem like all they are is my old existential angst, having grown up faced with the ontological annihilation of everything. Maybe Luna is attacking me? It seems like she’s defending me, but maybe my dream constructs are me as well? Why would she resort to something so subtle, when she could just... send guards? It’s harder to be scared of guard ponies breaking in and stealing me away, when I’m snug in my bed in the dawn’s early light, looking at my hooves hooked over the sheets, cylinders of soft white against green in the dimly lit room. I actually don’t feel bad, sort of peaceful. I should be trying to fix...things, or something, but just lying here is fine for now. It’s cool to feel my tail swishing under the sheets, and mess around with how I can turn my ears. I can also sort of... push on stuff in my horn, but I avoid that because I don’t want to make any mistakes before I at least get to talk to that magic tutor that I saw last week. I can feel my legs slide together. Oh dear, and I shouldn’t have fallen sleep, because after an afternoon like that, I am so ready for a climax it’s not funny. How many days has it been though? I can’t remember going like 4 days before without ridiculous cravings. I guess it’s a girl thing. I’m just so... unhurried about this masturbation stuff. You’d think when you wake up with a vagina, the first thing you’d do is shove everything you could up the darn thing. I haven’t even tried that yet! I didn’t think it’d make me feel so... nervously fluttery, to have stuff like this between my legs. And it’s sort of... easy to forget about? I know as a man I’d be beating it off desperately after this much of a dry spell. But all I feel now is a kind of... rising warmth at the thought of a man beating it off. Great. Well, I’m getting aroused by the thought clearly, but... it’s just not the same urgency. Still, here I am in the early morning, alone in my room. If I’m gonna touch myself, this is when I need to do it. Not going to be able to with Sweetie Belle’s parents around, or Sweetie Belle’s friends. Sweetie Belle herself was fine with it, but anyone who actually knows what it means to touch yourself, and I could get in huge trouble, fast. It’s kinda sad, because I’m basically repeating my childhood mistakes here. You can’t have sex with anyone if you always keep it secret, and never open up to anyone. Obviously, having sex at this age would be horribly inappropriate, but avoiding it now sort of trains you. You’ll feel like avoiding it at 15, 18, and by the time you reach 25 it’s too late. But I’m no sociologist. I don’t really know how to resolve the problem of being a good little girl, and also a sexually active er, mare, so instead I just don’t give a fuck, and give myself a fuck. Slipping one of my forehooves under the covers, I stick my tongue out thoughtfully as I feel around down there. My filly mound is dreadfully soft to touch. The flesh has a pliable heat to it, not just the vulva, but the whole underbelly where my fur thins out. I read that females can get aroused from touching other places than the genitals, so I decide to try a little something different. Biting my lip self indulgently, I can’t say I don’t relish this chance to explore Sweetie Belle’s body and learn how she, a girl and a pony, works. The best part about it is I’m also exploring myself. It’s really... arousing when you feel like someone is testing and exploring you, experimenting with what is going to put you over the moon. So, deliberately avoiding between my legs, I start trying to stimulate myself in ways that would have never worked as a man. Nothing crazy weird, just... feeling at my belly and trying to think of it as sexual touches. And... it actually kind of works? I do find myself blushing as I try touching myself in gentle testing strokes, and a feeling of heat is radiating from between my legs. It doesn’t feel like... genital touching, but at the same time I can’t help but feel a little goosebumps inside. Pausing from squirming around all silly under those sheets, I reach over beside my bed, where just like Sweetie told me there’s a box of tissues. I better not overuse these, or someone might get suspicious. But carefully slipping tissue up against the base of my tail, I give up on this tantalizing experimenting, to just tug at myself down there, feeling the pert petals spread open as I do. Ohh yes, that’s what I’m looking for. With one of my hooves stroking those sensitive tingly petals, my thoughts to experiment go right out my head. I’m just gonna indulge myself now, and maybe if I’m lucky, indulge Sweetie Belle as well. A tense little grunt escapes my chest at the realization that Sweetie might be here right now watching me masturbate her own body. It happened before, whether she could talk with me or not. I shouldn’t but, but, I find the idea of that terribly exciting. I feel like I have an audience. She’s the first person... in my entire life, that ever got to see me masturbate. I don’t really do anything worthy of praise, as I’m no porn star. I’m basically a little white unicorn with a look of tense concentration on her face, with only slight movement of her hoof sliding along herself down there, but the complex feelings rising in me are entertainment enough I’d think. I feel like a subtle puzzle, that I have to think and shift in such tiny subtle ways to make myself tingle more, and get closer to an orgasm. I squeeze my legs around my hoof just enough that it pushes me against myself. Can’t just go and rub indiscriminantly like with a penis, there are spots that feel better or worse at times. Like now that my hoof is starting to get wet (from the moisture I produce!) it feels a lot different to stroke my belly, especially around my small, flat teats. And not just touching, what I think makes a big difference. Just the thought of my father so big and strong coming down on top of my mother... it’s so weird and offputting, but at the same time it’s the only sex I’ve encountered since coming here. Yes, definitely getting wet now. Oh man I want to get so wet and just drip all over everything, just like mom must have done when... I think I’m really getting into this. I feel all quivery and I keep feeling like my insides flutter, what I would have to guess is that little vagina inside me squeezing down hungrily. My hips are rocking into my hoof without even thinking about it. It’s hard to stop doing it, just feeling driven at this point, to thrust upward, just like I would to get a big, fat penis inside me. He could come onto my bed, and... and I’d just be there waiting for him. He’d surge over me, his breath in my ear as his penis touched me, just like my hoof is~! I feel it. Oh yes, I feel it! I just have to think... have to think about penises and putting them inside me, and getting tall and elegant with shapely hips that can call him to mount them. As he hammers against me, I don’t even care if it’ll be sore tomorrow, begging him to go harder, even as he tries to hold back to to stop from filling me up with... with...! With a relieved moan, my urgent rubbing builds the tingles to a rising wave of pleasure, that crashes over me. My little cunt starts squeezing on its own, over and over again, rewarding me for those delicious forbidden penis thoughts, thoughts that could get a filly in trouble, that a man should never think. I just have to lay there, mane smooshed into the pillow behind me, breathing in delighted gasps as the waves of pleasure ripple through me. I feel... fine after that. I calm down quickly, and my breathing evens out. I could swear, the more I touch that place, the more the rest of my body starts feeling like one big tingly penis all over. It leaves pleasant little echoes of pleasure all over me, and a satisfied fuzzy feeling in my lower belly. “Ohh wow, that was really nice.” That wasn’t my voice. No, it was my voice! “Swee҉tie Belle?!” I exclaim in frozen shock. “You can hear me?!” she squeaks right back. “...again?!” she adds after a pause. “Yes I ca—what happened Sweetie Belle?” I whisper out harshly. “Are you okay? You’re okay, right? Why couldn’t you talk to me?” “I just couldn’t!” Sweetie’s voice drifts sourcelessly in the morning light. “I just talked to you and you wouldn’t answer! You were so upset, and there was nothing I could do!” “Oh god I fucked up...” I utter, in creeping horror. “What?!” she exclaims in alarm and confusion. “I m-messed up,” I explain to her. “Now Lyra knows! If I had just waited, I could’ve... could’ve had more time!” “Weren’t you going to tell her anyway?” Sweetie whispers back. “Yeah I—oh no,” I say as the other implication hits me. “Oh, no no no...” “What?” Sweetie hisses back, “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy if I came back!” “Sweetie, how do you think you got back?” I say to the air in a very worried tone. “You touched yourself until we did the tingly exciting thing,” Sweetie says in exasperation. “Finally! It took forever to find time to do it again!” “You knew it would... wake you... make you hear-able again?!” I stutter out in confusion. “No,” Sweetie says in a cranky pout, “But isn’t it obvious?” No, it’s not obvious, I mean to say but the words catch in my throat, and I just... I just sigh and say, “I am not a very clever pony.” “I didn’t know anything about it. I just wanted you to do it again,” Sweetie says self consciously. “You were so close when you were listening at my parent’s door. What were they doing, anyway? You really liked it!” “I’ll tell you... later,” I admit reluctantly. “I just... is that what triggers it? I—I just have to orgasm, and you... can talk to me?” “I guess so?” Sweetie Belle says uncertainly. “That makes no sense,” I moan, flopping against my pillow. With a crinkly feeling down there, I reach between my legs again, snagging the tissue, and try to... mop up however best I can. It’s really not that messy though. I guess girls just don’t get as wet as I thought they did. “Let’s just... never speak of this again,” I say in some nominal amount of disgust. “Okay, so... you’re just tired from all that getting upset, and surprised, and I’m sorry but I couldn’t help it,” Sweetie says, sounding confused and upset. “I tried to talk to you so much, but you just couldn’t hear me. I’m sorry.” “I uhm... if I ever can’t hear you again, I’ll be sure to ehm... orgasm, i-if that’s how it works,” I tell her, “Just in case I mean. It’s so stupid though!” “...why?” “It’s clichèd,” I answer easily. Frowning, I sit up in bed saying a bit more carefully, “I mean, it’s too obvious. It’s just like there’s someone trying to find any excuse to sexualize you. I–I would have done that, I mean.” “Done what, now?” she asks in a wary tone. “I would have found any excuse I mean, because it wasn’t real I could just think anything I wanted. But now that it is real...” I look at the tissues lying there on the bedsheets. “I just don’t want to be like that anymore,” I say sulkily. “You still haven’t said what’s wrong with touching there,” Sweetie pouts a bit snippily. “No, I didn’t mean touching there,” I reply distractedly, “I meant how I used to be so... uncaring, of anything. I never did horrible things, but... I had fantasies just like this, and it didn’t matter because it would never happen, but now I’m just kind of a little... scared. “I’m not used to being you, Sweetie Belle,” I say shakily. “I’m not used to being i-important, and having people rely on me. I’m just a failure, and s-supposed to be one. So it’s just hard. I... I promise I won’t let you down until you’re all the way back again.” “Okay,” she says sounding a bit clueless. Frankly I don’t blame her. “Just, if I get quiet again, please don’t get upset like you did,” she says more earnestly. “I didn’t like feeling that way, and there wasn’t any way I could stop you from making me feel like that!” “I-it was a real surprise,” I say with an unsteady laugh, “I’ll try not to freak out like... like I did. I mean, old news, right? Been there, done that?” “Okay,” she says, sounding a little more gratified, “Thank you.” “Are you really back?” I say disbelievingly. “I didn’t even do anything. I mean, I did do something, but—” “A really bi҉g something!” she squeals out happily. “But I wasn’t even trying then, and I didn’t know it would bring you back. I w-want to learn more, so that maybe we can um... not have to do it. Orgasm, I mean.” “But it feels good!” Sweetie protests, sensibly enough. “I know, but... it’s complicated,” I tell her honestly. “It’s... distracting. You can get really, really um... distracted by doing that. Like... how late in the morning is it?” “I don’t think it took more than an hour...” Sweetie says hesitantly. “Apple Bloom is better at remembering the time than I am.” Swivelling my butt off the bed, I almost end up standing on two hooves, wobbling and falling forward on four, after my hind legs plant. I fight back a yawn, as I try to recall how to walk again. Clump, clump go my hooves while my tail bobs up behind me entirely too cheerily for my tastes, leaving my feminine mound way more exposed than I deserve. The hoof clumps turn to light clops as I transition from rug to wood floor, listening at the door out of my room with one of my big old ears. I think I can hear clinking down there, like moving plates or dishes. Someone’s definitely up. “I don’t think it’s too late,” I say thoughtfully. “Are the going to come up and get me at some point?” “Um... no?” Sweetie says. “It’s summer, so I don’t have to get up early, and Apple Bloom and Scootaloo will be by soon though. We should eat before then.” “Yeah, but...” I gesture at the door. “But...?” she asks. “How do you turn a doorknob?” I ask her with a bit of a blush. “I don’t... know?” she asks right back. She seems genuinely puzzled by my question. Maybe this is one of those things that ponies must not notice about their world, like heart songs. I sure don’t want to accidentally make Sweetie Belle unable to open doors too. “Never mind, for now,” I tell her appeasingly, “I’ll just um... just hush for now, we’ll talk later.” “Okay, just don’t get upset if you need to do that squeezy thing again,” Sweetie admits me with caution. “We’ll fix this, somehow,” she adds. I have to smile at that. Then I pound on the door with a hoof. “Excuse me!” I exclaim loudly. “Can somepony come up for a sec?” “What are you doing?” she hisses at me. “Sssh!” I hiss right back. Thank goodness for Sweetie’s powerful voice! I quickly hear a clumping of hoof on stair, and turn away from the door just soon enough, for dad to open it up for me without smacking me in the face. “Good morning Sweetie!” he says pleasantly, “What’s up? Breakfast ain’t ready yet, so hold tight another couple minutes okay?” “Sorry,” I tell him sheepishly, trying to walk around him. “I sorta ‘forgot’ how to use doors is all. So I’ll just—” “Woah, woah,” he says, putting a hoof on my chest to stop me from walking forward. I’m... still tingly from the orgasm. Jeez, that feels good but... scarily disempowering. “You are havin’ trouble with the door?” dad exclaims in surprise. “Yeah, um...” well at least I can escape the room, if dad turns out to lose his ability to open doors, when I explain to him. “I sorta can’t figure out how to turn the doorknob,” I tell him, searching his face for some sign of understanding or awareness. “It’s no big deal, just—” “Turn the doorknob?” he asks me, with his head tilted in genuine puzzlement, “Why the heck would you go and do that?” ...wait, what. “...to open the door?” I say hesitantly. “Oh Sweetie, that’s the silliest thing I ever heard!” dad says with a genuine smile. He bullies past me, moving smoothly into the room and closing the door tight behind him. I guess he’s going to show me the... magic? I have some trouble getting around him, but dad moves further into my room and agck I’m blushing at the thought of dad being in my room no, no bad thoughts. “Opening doors is easy as pie!” he says instructively, pushing me over to the door despite my breathy squeak of a protest. “Alright, now just rear up and put your hoof on the doorknob.” Dad stands by my bed, while I face the door, looking at the knob uncertainly, then obediently rearing up for him. My right forehoof plants on the door, and the other lays on the knob. And my tail slaps flat on the floor, but that’s not part of it. “You got it?” he asks hopefully. I rattle the doorknob under my hoof a bit, but it just won’t turn! How do I use my hoof to create torque? “I um... no?” I ask. “What do I do now?” With another chuckle dad says, “Just push it, Sweetie.” Oh. I push on the doorknob with my hoof. My. Enough pressure, and it depresses inward, making a click noise as the door comes unlatched. God! The door is still closed though, with me leaning against it this way. “Now pull the door back with your right hoof!” dad prompts. My right hoof can cling to the flat of the door just fine, and so I do that, stumbling back as the door abruptly and smoothly opens before me. “I don’t believe it,” I say breathily, staring at my own hooves, and then up at the door. “You push doorknobs!” “What did you think they were, dials?” dad asks coming up beside me. “Crazy that you’d forget a common thing like that.” I ignore him to eagerly explore this door mechanism with wide green eyes. It’s as simple as can be, though I can’t see its innards. You push the knob, and as it depresses, the latch slides back into the slot. Release the knob and the latch pops back out after a bit of a delay. “I never thought—that—doorknobs actually wo҉rk! It actually makes sense!” I exclaim staring at the doorknob in total astonishment. “So can I uh, get back to cookin’ breakfast?” dad asks behind me. “It’s haycake Mondays if you’re wonderin’.” “Oh! Uhm... yes,” I blush, waddling back with the door so it swings open for him. “After... you?” I think I hear a snicker, but he clumps then clops much more heavily, on his way out to the hall, and then down the stairs. I follow suit, albeit more slowly and carefully, and at the top of the stairs I pause looking down them. I whisper out to thin air, “Sweetie, didja see? When I learned about stairs?” “Yeah,” comes her whisper in the hallway. “I never thought about it like leaning back, before!” “Alright, alright, oh man this is so cool,” I say trying to conceal my eagerness at the sheer relief of not holding one young unicorn’s life and death in my hands. I can open doors now, and go down stairs! “Just ssh, and I’ll get some breakfast and we can—we can...” “How about you shush too,” Sweetie says a bit wryly. “I’m not even talking anymore.” “Right,” I say with a sheepish blush. “Okay, no problem.” I feel my way down the stairs, putting one hoof down a step then another hoof, then putting my forehooves down another step. My hindhooves follow suit standing 2 steps above them. Er, actually I un-bunch myself a little bit, finding that one step of separation is about right. Leaning my head back as I practiced, and alternating front and back I gaflump my way down the stairs, without falling down even one single flight. Alright, now haycakes are delicious. All buttery and crackly and golden, drizzled over with syrup. I can’t exactly cut them apart easily, but I can take bites out of them. Mom seems to like cutting them into pieces, but I’m just too hungry to care at this point, and they’re too delicious. I don’t even... I don’t actually like maple syrup. Fun fact. It’s sugar, so I can’t not like it, not even as a human, but maple syrup always tasted weird to me. In this magical land, I finally understand the flavor of maple syrup, the familiar ache of a tall tree’s growing pains. Instead of being offputting, it just seems to add to the complexity of the syrup, rather than clash with the sweetness. I actually like maple syrup now! Yet another epiphany of my taste buds. Something that always tasted one way, tastes another! And I actually like it! Between that and the broccoli—yes that’s right, broccoli for breakfast—and I’m in little unicorn heaven by the time I get done with it. I can’t believe Sweetie just came back, just like that! It’s like some... horrible fetish fuel or something, but instead of just being words on paper it’s all absolutely, vividly real. The feel of myself masturbating, I didn’t have to imagine at all. I really was a little unicorn girl, and as weird as that is, it was very vivid! Now I feel the firm pressure of my hooves on the floor, and mom over there sliding about the last bit of haycake in her syrup as she remarks on the nice weather lately. The bouncy curls on my head that could really use a brushing, and on my tail, there are just so many things to feel. Every time I wonder whether it’s real, I can just look and see the individual furs on my foreleg, subtle but present, the fine grain of the table and floor, the cheese colored tablecloth, and how it rumples against my hoof. There are birds singing outside, and a bright sunlight drifting in through the window. It’s a beautiful day. There’s a knock at the door. A hoofy knock. “Oh good, I think that’s your little friends!” mom says enthusiastically. “Are you about done with breakfast?” “Yup, I still need to brush... yeah, brush my mane,” I say trying not to sound so stupidly proud of being able to say that. “Don’t forget your tail either,” she cautions. “Just put a brush in there, and you can take care of it while you’re out playing okay?” “...in there?” Apple Bloom and Scootaloo are indeed at the door. Dad answers it and they immediately say, “Can Sweetie Belle come play?” Ohh man, do I want to do that. But first, mom has to teach me a few things, such as how to hook a brush into your tail, so that you can carry it with you in a pinch, and where I can leave it after I’m all brushed out. “They have like... a brush share cooperative in town?” I ask uncertainly, experimenting with how the hooked end of the brush sort of combines with the bristles to catch on my tail hairs without getting tangled in them. It almost feels like... holding a brush? Even though it’s just hair that’s holding it. Well, whatever works. When I stand and raise my tail, it doesn’t even look like there’s anything in there, just a little extra added weight. “Just give it to somepony who looks like they could use it,” mom says easily. “If you don’t see any, you leave it on somepony’s doorstop, and it’ll find its way back here eventually.” “Huh... w-well okay then, but I’m just gonna go play then, okay?” I say with a tense excitement in every fiber of my being. “C’mon Sweetie, the wagon’s all ready!” Apple Bloom says cheerfully. Mom gives me an approving nod. And so I erupt into... slowly jittering along, trying to get into the rhythm of walking again. But despite that, I have the strangest feeling in the world, that today’s gonna be a good day.