I hate doctor’s appointments. Sitting there in the office, waiting to be seen, with some unexplainable pain or malady plaguing you. Not even being Sweetie Belle seems to save me from this sort of intolerably annoying anxiety. Waking up one day with a little lump on your flank. Nobody knows what it is. Getting it checked out just in case. That’s all bad enough, but the worst part is waiting for the appointment. You’re sitting here with a possibly life threatening condition that just keeps getting sorer, and larger, and worse, and they don’t have time for you for months, waiting for your insurance to approve the expenditure, waiting months for the doctors to give you an appointment, and then all they do is forward you to some testing company.
At least Rarity’s there with me, standing beside me protectively while the doctors slice into me, and remove a tiny section from the abnormality. It’s that frightening sort of pain, where I have to fight not to cringe away, and every moment makes me feel like I’m going to pass out. It’s sore and bleeding afterwards for hours, the not-so-little lump all wrapped up in bloody gauze. Then the anesthetics wear off, and I’ve got a grinding, aching pain in my pelvis that I can barely even walk on.
Wait a month for results, then back to the specialists for another two month wait. Half a year has passed with them doing nothing at all. They greet me with encouraging words and smiles, so glad that I’ve decided to take care of myself, and now they’re going to take care of me, because the 6 months before they even bothered doesn’t even exist in their eyes. So I can’t help but glare at them accusingly when they sit me down and tell me that it appears to be malignant, and they’re going to have to cut it out of me.
I can endure the pain, the deep agony that tells me there is something very wrong with my body when I wake up. I can handle the convalescence, the therapy, the requirement to stretch it. But I can’t handle the humiliation that they’re so busy and I’m so insignificant that they couldn’t be bothered to deal with me for so long while I was suffering. Treating me like a disposable product, like something they’d really rather not deal with, and being entirely powerless to find any other medical professionals who don’t treat me the exact same way.
When more months pass, and more tests are taken, and they sit me down and tell me it’s metastasized, and now I have one wedged into my liver, as well as who know how many more peppering my cute little unicorn body, the doctors tell me it might have been avoided, if only I had come to them sooner. If only I had come to them sooner. But my hatred for them can’t withstand the bitter, gripping terror that this is it. I’m going to die.
I try to live! I try to get better from it, but nothing works and I just get sicker and sicker. I must look completely hideous by now, without my hair and without my fur. They poisoned me with a poison that killed all quickly dividing cells like hair and cancer, and made the rest of me unbelievably sick, and even that didn’t work. Rarity won’t look at me anymore. My friends, I say goodbye to them, and they promise that they’ll take care of all my stuff and remember me, and I just don’t care. How would a dead mare care whether anyone remembered her or not? They fade out one by one, until I’m all alone.
So in the end I’m lying in my bed alone. There’s a beeping machine to let me know that I’m still alive, but everything hurts so badly. I feel dizzy and disoriented. I don’t want to move. I don’t know if I can move. It’s so hard to breathe. So hard to breathe. Can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think. I just want it all to end, but I don’t want to want it to end! It doesn’t matter though. What I want doesn’t matter. Try to breathe, my heart stops as if to spite me, my vision blackens, and there’s nothing after that, forever and ever and ever.
There are already tears on my face when I wake up. I can see the roof of my new room above me, feel the warm sheets wrapping me in their tender embrace. Sucking in a shuddering breath, I roll to my side, curling up and clutching those sheets close to me.
“Oh g*** you’re awa**” comes Sweetie’s faint, faded voice.
“Oh no,” I say, horrified. “Sweetie can you hear me?”
I blink.
“I mean of course you can hear me,” I hastily correct myself. “Say something so I can hear you.”
“Wh** **ou mean?” she says, her voice so quiet and echoey I can just barely make it out.
“OK hold tight Sweetie,” I say, pulling up my blanket and slipping my hoof between my legs. “I’m gonna d-do it again so I can hear you again.”
“Ok**” I manage to hear her reply.
Getting to rubbing myself, God what is with these nightmares? Where was Princess Luna? She was there to save Sweetie Belle the last time. I can’t get over the fear of that confining, paralyzing end, it just suffuses me, and I can’t calm down. The... rubbing my muff sort of helps, a little, but... I just feel so rotten. Why can’t I let go of the past, and start living things like I don’t have irrevocable fact telling me that my life is pointless and my doom is ensured.
I don’t have that fact, anymore! Not since I suddenly appeared into a world of ponies and magic! It’s incredible, and life changing, and... I’m not sure anymore! That awful assurance, that I was dead forever no matter what, I just don’t know anymore. And that’s great! So why am I...
Why am I having nightmares about it?
I keep at it, but I don’t feel sexy. Cute little filly with her hoof between her legs, and all I feel like doing is crying. Why can’t I do it this time? Good grief, I do actually start crying. I hate this. I hate being saddled with Sweetie’s safety. I hate being unable to give up my past. I hate being so fucking... broken. How do I heal, though? How does anybody get better from a lifetime of quiet horror? I wish I could just... I wish I could just forget myself, forget everything, and just be Sweetie Belle. I don’t even care if people think that kills me. If I could think her thoughts, and not these thoughts, then I’d be happy, instead of wiping at my eyes more leaky than my groin right now, and wishing more than anything else that I could just get a hug.
Which I... sort of can. I wonder if my parents are up yet. Sighing in frustration, my tail flips up under the covers in front of me, and I flop my head back on the pillow. I look at my hoof, the one I should be masturbating with. It’s such a pretty white color, not quite white but more candylike somehow. The nail is the same color as my fur, and come to think on it so is the fleshy frog beneath my hoof. Is my skin the same whiteness as my fur? But Snips and Snails proved that theory wrong!
I flex it, and it curls obediently forward. A little hookey thing at the end of my arm, which is also my leg. “I’m sorry, Sweetie,” I tell her woefully, “I just can’t... feel it right now. I just need to... calm down a bit, and then I can do it. I promise I will as soon as I can.”
“Ok** just **o it **ever you ca**” she says, sounding like she’s calling down a long tunnel.
Hastily, I push my rear legs off the edge of the bed, and slide back with my front ones until the rear ones touch the floor. So far, so good. I try walking back with just those two, and it works alright, even though it feels sideways. Then I can put one front hoof down, followed by another. I... I did it. I got out of my bed without falling. Okay, I can do this. I can... turn to look at the darkness of my room where the doctors are just waiting to gaze at me sadly without hope. Fuck... I had to think about that, didn’t I? I push myself around, using my bed, trying to get a light on, so these shadows would stop moving oh wait that’s a tree outside casting a shadow in.
Right, I can do this. I lift a hoof, and 1324, my left front hoof leading forward as my other hooves catch up to it, and I repeat once again, cautiously moving towards the door to my room. Climbing the wall and pushing the knob... no wait, pulling the knob unlatches it too, and my door opens smoothly, revealing the even darker stairway. Okay, I can do this... I wish I knew where the light was out there. At least the switch in my room is right here by the door. I press a hoof against it, no mechanism registering to the touch underneath as the overhead light comes on, almost blinding me.
I’m looking into the hall though, where the light is dimmer. The light from my room casts upon the stairs, giving me at least enough light to see by. In that manner I chase away the darkness enough to get down one flight of stairs. And there, I’m at my parent’s room. Thankfully, I don’t hear them having sex in there again. But I don’t hear them moving around either, nor do I hear any noise downstairs.
Taking a risk, I reach up, and again pull the door open, quietly unlatching their door and skulking in like a thief in the night. I manage to walk myself up to their bed, and my heart aches as I see them there, sleeping quietly. They were here! They’re here for me. I don’t want to wake them up, but... it’s okay if I do isn’t it? I really, really want a hug now.
“Mom, dad,” I whisper, poking the closest one who is thankfully my mother. “Mom,” I whisper again, trying to lightly shake her.
“Snmm–hm?” she says, pulling away. Her form in shades of moonlight blue rises as she sits up, saying, “Sweetie Belle? What’s wrong honey?”
“I had a—” oh god this sounds stupid, doesn’t it. “I had a bad dream,” I whimper.
Mom looks at me, and... “C’mon up,” she says. “We can make room for ya tonight.”
Wordlessly I climb up with her. It’s easy. I’m good at climbing. She throws the covers over me and—presses up against me, a hoof of hers coming to rest on my chest, pulling me close to her. Why does this feel so intimate somehow? She’s so warm. I can feel her soft, furry hide pressing against my back, and her hoof just... cradling me. I can’t believe how good this feels. I can’t believe I’d ever get to feel something like this. My mom is holding me and I... I don’t even realize how tired I am, until I’ve drifted again off to sleep.
A sleep that is (this time) thankfully devoid of any dreams at all.
I wake up, and—Sweetie is gone. A grey, indirect light filters in through the window, from the lightening night sky over by the horizon. And right now I’m being cradled by my snoring mother like a plush toy. Even her tail is tangled around mine. Maybe this was a bad idea. It’s kind of hot like this, and I just don’t know... I kind of need to get up. I need to find a place alone, so I can... bring Sweetie back.
I manage to wiggle free of her, but trying to pull my tail loose sort of wakes her up. “Need to go to the ba—toilet,” I tell her as her blue eyes crack open to peer at me. She doesn’t say anything, just grunts and rolls over, leaving me free to er... sneak off and masturbate. And also use the bathroom. The stairs are as fun as ever to go down... that leaning back trick still works well. At the bottom, I whisper, “Sweetie, you there?” but get no answer. Too much to ask for, I suppose.
The door through the kitchen to the backyard is latched with another knob, so I have absolutely no problem with that. I honestly might be getting the hang of this pony thing. The air is cool against my skin as I exit into the pre-dawn world, the soft grass smushing under my hoof as I feel my footing out to get over there. Entering the water closet, it feels almost natural to raise up my tail. I can even kind of wiggle the tip of it when I pull...something back and forth. Well, I make sure I’m carefully squatting over the toilet, then just squeeze down until everything takes over. The urine hitting the water—my urine hitting the water sounds dreadfully loud in the serene quiet of the still sleeping town. I bet Applejack is up, but most ponies are waiting to greet the dawn.
My relatively small output trickles off quickly, and I get a brief urge to adjust my, well... dick. I guess I haven’t gone totally pony yet, since the only thing I can wipe down there is a smooth pair of vulva conforming nicely to the curve of my groin. That sounds hotter than it feels. And oh wait, actually yeah, I’m supposed to be thinking about how hot it is. Dammit, I’m just droopy eared groggy right now, not aroused. But I can’t just leave Sweetie like that. Or, can I?
But no, if I do, then she might get even harder to bring back. I don’t know if it keeps... wearing off the longer I go without orgasming. Am... am I really trying to find excuses not to orgasm? Well, fuck that! After flushing, I stay in the relative privacy of the toilet, a place of time honored tradition for children looking to masturbate, as it’s usually the only room in the house they’re allowed to lock. It’s... kind of tricky as a pony, since I don’t know if I want to sit on the tiled floor to do it. I know as a human I could never remain standing; my legs would just turn to jelly and I’d hunch over with the growing urge to thrust. But now I like... thrust backwards? I honestly don’t know exactly how I’d thrust, neither from being on four legs, nor from being biologically incapable of penetrating another.
But what I do know is it’s relatively easy to balance on a tripod of three legs, while my free leg easily presses into the soft vulva between my hind legs. And that feels... pleasant. Might as well get started... I’m sure I’ll feel more aroused as I actually arouse myself. The pleasant soft ache does flow within me, vaguely like when I’d stroke the base of my penis to increase my arousal. It even kind of feels like a scrotum, that soft, furry muff, though it certainly contains no mysterious orbs of male virility.
About ten minutes into it I find myself yawning. Boy, this is... nice, but I don’t know that it’s actually working. Takes its time, I suppose. I try pressing on a thigh to spread myself, and that... helps a little, I guess. I just still don’t feel all that into it! I’m feeling more frustrated than aroused, but on the other hand I know I’m breathing more deeply, and the slight wetness on my frog absolutely cannot be from anything but arousal. I just wish it’d go faster, or I’d be hornier or something. Maybe I should fantasize about something?
...I’m going to have to fantasize about horse penises, aren’t I.
Yeah, I imagine Rarity, sophisticated, elegant Rarity bent forward like a dog while a stallion spreads her snatch wide open with his dick, and I can’t help but think about how strong he would push against her, and how that stiff dick would feel as it invaded you. I am definitely not thinking like a lesbian here. Standing here on three legs, with my shoulder leaning against the wall and my cheek slightly pressed to it, for balance, I can feel my body instinctively rocking backwards against my hoof, making it palpate those soft lips all the more strongly. My tail feels stiff, curled upwards and slightly to the side. And my crotch feels... loose, relaxed, open.
When you stroke your dick, it gets to feeling downright stiff when it swells with blood, and I’m pretty sure female organs swell with blood in their own way, but I feel like I should feel an straining erection, and there’s just nothing there. I don’t think girls would feel this way, because they don’t know what it feels like to be erect, so it’s kind of cool that I’m in a unique position to tell the difference there. But all I feel is smooth, soft, sort of wet, and kind of... achy inside.
I freeze in place as I hear heavy hoofsteps clumping up to the water closet. The door jiggles and I yelp, “Wait! Hold on!”
“Are you still in there, Sweetie?” comes Dad’s muffled voice.
“I’m just... finishing up!” I shout to him. “Just one second!”
“I hope that fish dinner agreed with you?” he asks worriedly.
Oh god no.
“I’m fine!” I say. “I’m coming out, no problem.”
I look at my hoof in disgust, and pause to wipe just one more time, flushing that down the drain, too. Then I pull the door handle. (This one’s a handle, by the way) and spill out as the door tilts open away from me. The sunlight is cheerful and bright now, with the sun peeking over some clouds near the horizon. Was I in there for that long? Darn it—is something wrong with my orgasming ability?
Dad closes the door behind him, and I stand a while and just feel down there a little bit. It’s soft and pleasant as usual, but the rising tingle is just gone. I completely lost it. “Maybe I should just wait for a better opportunity,” I mutter quietly to myself, and also supposedly to Sweetie Belle. I don’t have anything to do for now, other than turn around with difficulty, and wobble my way to breakfast.
“Anything I can do to help?” I ask vaguely, sticking my head in the kitchen door and looking around.
“Nice-a you to ask Sweetie, but I got this,” Mom says equally distractedly. It looks like she’s frying up some eggs, with the smell of warming toast pervading the room.
I make my way in and watch curiously as she flips the things with a spatula in her mouth, while dashing salt, pepper and oil on it from bottles floating in her magic overhead. You know, that thing I can’t do. It sure looks cool though.
“You wanna go set the table or something?” Mom asks over her shoulder, Or whatever you call that part of your back. Not a single missed syllable, despite the spatula in the corner of her mouth..
Nodding eagerly to the pleasantly pink mare, I say, “Yeah, I remember where the napkins are and everything! And um... what silverware do we need?”
“Fork and knife for your father and I,” she calls over, “Hey would you like your egg cut into bites first?”
“I... suppose?”
“It’s less messy that way,” she comments, and goes back to preparing the meal.
I get the napkins via the dubiously sanitary method of carrying them in my mouth, but it’s either that or try to balance on three hooves while carrying them with something I walk on the ground with. Again it doesn’t seem as messy as it ought to be. This was how Scootaloo did it, so I assume it’s the right thing to do. You know, unless you have a magic horn that actually works.
I guess it’s kind of relieving to know that my horn isn’t some freaky overpowered thing that could go off at any second. The afternoon I spent with Lyra was useful for that too, never mind her agreement to help me with the whole being Sweetie Belle issue. I actually pushed it then, and didn’t get so much as an explosion, so it makes me feel more confident that I can practice those exercises she taught me, without worry about things going badly. Assuming I can remember the exercises she taught me, that is.
But after I get napkins for everypony, and forks and (butter) knives for my parents, I find myself standing by the table, waiting for breakfast to be served again. Not sure if I should ask to help more, because Mom and Dad both seem to be managing it skillfully. It’s not upsetting or anything, but I think I’m starting to understand why Sweetie Belle might be such a terrible cook, even if both of her parents were cooks.
The eggs and green toast (I forget what sort of toast is green) are tasty, and Mom skilfully dices the egg into squares, which does make it easier to hoover up, without the rest of the egg splattering on my chin. The yolk is kept on its own slice, not quite solid, but I just smear the hot fluid part of it onto the toast. Top that off with small sips from a half glass of chilly orange juice, and I’m about perfect. With a pleasantly full belly, I carry my plate over to the sink. If it was a human sink I’m sure I wouldn’t be able to see over the edge of it, but this pony sink is small enough that I only have to lift up a little to easily get the plate over the edge. I follow by dumping my cup after it. And then I turn to see my dad looking at me expectantly.
“You better get your hair brushed up,” he says, “I don’t know exactly when your sister’s gonna come pick you up, but it’s gonna be soon.”
Nodding, I make my way towards the stairs again, climbing up in a way that almost seems familiar by now. Three flights of steps each one twice my height, and I’m barely winded at the top. I might not be the most olympic pony out there, but that’s pretty good compared to a human! I suppose I should have asked what to do, but I remember where the brush is, and I’m quite capable of getting there now.
My room still has a few toys tossed around, and the bedcovers are rumpled, but it’s not otherwise too messy. I feel my way over to the dresser, where my pretty pink brush is laying. Picking the handle up in my mouth, I go to immediately start brushing my tail. Ohh yes that feels really good. The little pinprick hairs that cling to you, rolling off easily with the brush.
Mom pokes her nose into my room saying, “Sweetie? Did you want any help with that?”
I look up from my flowry tail to her, saying curiously, “Nmph, em...” I spit out the brush, saying, “I’m doing fine so far.”
“Here, let me get it for you,” she says kindly, raising the brush in her sparkling blue magic. “And then how about you get my hair?”
It’s about then that I keep in mind that my mom’s hair is not tied up in a bun, but is draping in loose locks down her shoulders. Wow, she actually has really long hair. This could take a while.
Well, we comb each other’s hair, and it’s not scary good like it was with Rarity. It’s not that I don’t appreciate being able to touch my mom, and feel her warmth against me, but maybe I’m starting to get used to being around ponies, as a pony. I’ve woken up so many times with my cute little unicorn body all tucked into those green sheets, it’s starting to feel like it won’t be cruelly stolen away from me, when I wake up from some incredible dream to a horrible, crushing reality that’s always there when I open my eyes, always there to get me, and to ruin me, and in the end, to annihilate me so that I can never have these happy dreams again.
“C-can I talk to a therapist?” I ask while my mom’s brushing my hair. “I mean... that sounds dumb, I just... I’m still having um... nightmares,” I say, unable to even start to understand why I’m ruminating over terrible things that probably aren’t even real anymore.
“Well honey, ya know...” Mom says, “That swanky doctor who’s been helping you walk, he had a few recommendations. We were kind of thinking of bringing it up, but... ya know, it was just kind of ehh...”
“No, it’s okay,” I hastily assure her. “I mean, that thing that happened did a lot more to my head than it did to my feet, so I was just thinking...”
“Well, if you’re okay with it Sweetie, then we can certainly look into it!” Mom says happily. “Now come on, I’m tireda having my hair down.”
“Wh—oh,” I say, looking at the brush she laid at my hooves. Craning down and hunching to bite around the handle, it slips into my mouth fairly securely while I get to brush through my mom’s long blue tresses. I actually have to climb her back a little to get it all. She feels so warm underneath my hooves.
She handles putting her mane up in a bun, with her rather impressive display of magic. My mane just naturally curls out of my eyes, so I don’t really have to worry about it. I wonder if it’ll always be that way, or if pony manes aren’t as static and unchanging as they are in the show. What makes it this curly, anyway? And how can two of the big curls be two totally different colors?
Mom looks at the door while fiddling with the hairpins glowing in mid-air, saying, “Ugh... now where is she?”
I look at the door in confusion. “Rarity’s supposed to be coming over?” I suggest uncertainly.
Mom smiles and nods, saying, “That’s right Sweetie. She said she was gonna take you to your physical therapy appointment! Apparantly she and that doctor have hit it off pretty good. Ya think there might be grandkids in my future?”
She misinterprets my paralyzed struggle with the easily interchangable image of Rarity, and me (as Sweetie Belle) pregnant with my mom’s grandkids, saying, “Ah, don’t worry about it honey. That was kind of a grownup joke. You’ll understand later.”
No, I understand now. Very much now. “Okay,” I say noncommitally. Her smile tilts, but she doesn’t lose her resolve, just patting with a bright pink hoof, me on the soft pink and purple curls. Then she trots off to get ready for a long day of baking delicious things.
I wait a while longer, not sure if Rarity is coming after all. Dad finally groans in frustration and says, “Hey Sweetie, you want me to give you a ride there instead?”
Ways I could respond:
Oh yes, ride me.
I want to touch your hot body.
Can you help me orgasm, instead?
Finally I settle on, “Sure, that sounds great!” but I don’t think I sound very convincing, because his soft gaze turns from me, calling out,
“Hey honeymunch! Can you give Sweetie a ride?”
“Oh, I was gonna,” she says, poking her head out of the washroom. “Just hang tight Sweetie. I dunno what your sister’s up to, but I’ll be happy to get you there too.”
“Thanks,” I say reluctantly, looking longingly at my dad’s strong, white flank, before tearing my eyes away. Not supposed to think about that stuff! But... but how am I going to get Sweetie back, then? Well, for better or for worse, I leave the house that day riding upon my mother. Her mother. Damnit why do I keep doing that! Am I Sweetie Belle or aren’t I?
The day is partly cloudy when we set out, but the sun is low enough to be seen below the clouds. I’m still not sure how pegasi could possible generate such gigantic things as clouds; they look so tiny up there. Ponies are clopping around quietly, some with saddlebags, or just bags strapped to their back. Mom chatters while she carries me, about her work mostly, how other ponies there are doing, and soon once again the hospital looms as we walk down the path on its pleasantly green front lawn area.
“Oh! Hey, can I walk?” I ask Mom before we get there. “I want to try it, now that we’re here.”
She gives an amused snort, but stops in place long enough for me to slide my hind legs over her broad torso, sliding down her side to clop them down onto the ground. She moves away sideways letting me naturally slip to all fours. I wobble a bit, but land... four hooves on the floor. The same hooves making the ambient clopping sounds that accompany life in this town.
I guess I’m getting used to the noise level, because I can actually notice some of those subtle sounds now. It’s a world of difference (go figure) from the roaring and rumbling of automobile traffic. My own hooves make a higher pitched sound as they land on the packed dirt, probably because they’re smaller and I’m lighter. But baby horse or not, I put one hoof forward, then another, and repeat my mantra of walk, walk, walk, until I make it through the doors to the front of the hospital, while Mom holds them open for me to carefully pass therein.
“Well hello there lil’ filly,” the receptionist says, leaning over the desk to look at me as I approach. It’s the same lemon yellow nurse that I first saw coming here, with the blue swirly hair. “You’re doing pretty good today,” she remarks roughly, with a smile.
“I think I can walk all the way to Dr. Ace’s office!” I say, excited that I’m actually doing this. “I um...” I stumble as I have to look down at my hooves to remember how to walk.
“Well, go on in,” she says agreeably, if gratingly, “You’re right on time for your appointment!”
Mom has trotted in behind me since, saying to the nurse, “Sorry honey, I’m with her so, mind if I go back too?”
The nurse nodded saying, “Nope, not at all. The doctor probably wants to talk with you before he starts anyway.”
With Mom hovering over me like a mother... pony, or at least crowded up behind me because of how slow I’m walking, we make our way down the hospital’s smooth blue carpeted hallway. I’ve been here like... four times already, so I know the way to Ace’s office. I wonder if it’s intentional that a physical therapist’s office would be on the ground floor.
Once there, I carefully walk up the door, and wrap my hoof around the doorknob, pushing until it clicks, and the door swings inward. I slip a little then and go down hard on my left forehoof, but I ease the right one down more gently. “Good morning, dockta Ace!” Mom calls out pleasantly from behind me. “Sweetie’s here for her appointment now.”
With a smile growing on my face, I put a hoof forward and wobble, but then put another one down, and another and I walk right up to his desk. “Well I’ll be,” he says in mock amazement, “It looks like you’re getting pretty good at that!”
“I’ve been—” I stop walking, in order not to fall over, quite intelligently. “I’ve been practicing all week, just like you said!” I say cheerfully up to the doctor, his gorgeous moustache creeping up into a smile as he says,
“That’s great to hear! How has it felt, so far?”
“Really confusing,” I admit, wishing I could back up as the doctor trots around his desk to stand facing me. “I have a hard time talking and doing it at the same time. And I still don’t know what to do with my tail. Or backing up.”
“Well that’s all good stuff to work on,” he says, “I suppose you’re eager to get started?”
“Yes I’m—” I laugh, feeling nervous for some reason, looking up at his blue eyes. “Yes I’m really eager to—um, get started.” I hope that didn’t sound like an innuendo. I bet if it were Rarity he’d think it was an innuendo. But with me he just laughs, and rubs a hoof on my head, saying,
“Great. You want to try to get to the exercise room on your own, then?”
“Sure, thanks!” I say, turning over my shoulder to—oh, right, Mom.
“I don’t suppose I could have a word in private with you, missus Belle?” Ace says to her. She stops looking worried and smiles gladly, saying,
“Sure, no problem! You gonna be okay getting there, Sweetie?”
“Um... yeah,” I say distractedly, sitting down so I can turn around on the spot. “It’s just at the end of the hall, down the right, right?”
“Yup, the big double doors,” Ace replies. “If there’s anypony in there just say you’re with me, and I should be along in a couple minutes.”
Nodding staidly, I face the new forward, and start planting my hooves again. 1,3,2,4... just leaning forward and remembering which hoof to put where, and when to let go of what. He starts a conversation with my mom as I make my way out the door, not that I hear much, just “Well it’s good to see you Mrs. Belle, I wanted to tell you...” and then the door closes. I end up bumping into the wall of the hallway outside, but there’s nopony around, so I have plenty of time to turn, and get going the direction I’m supposed to be going in.
Down the hall, oh and to the right actually, and then in through the double doors, which actually don’t have knobs on them, but just push open. Thankfully they’re not too heavy. Even I can open them, by leaning what little weight I’ve got against one. The exercise room is just like I remember it, with the room vaguely split up into stations by the markings on the floor, a wall of mirrors, and anything from yoga balls to trapeze equipment stacked on the side, or set up in various places. Nopony seems to be here, just one little white unicorn girl, with a big pink and purple tail she has no idea how to use.
I make my way curiously to one of the strange contraptions, and oh, actually it’s just a scale, now that I look at it. It’s shaped for a whole pony to get on it, rather than a human on two legs. Plenty of room for me, of course. Curiously, I get on the scale, and the lever above clacks down, as my weight tilts it over. It’s a bit too high for me to reach those weighted adjuster things, that slide back and forth on the lever to find your exact weight, but that’s alright. It’s not like I can read the numbers, anyway.
Well, climbing off the scale, it clatters back to weightless. I look around elsewhere in the room, but I’m not sure I ought to be playing with any of that stuff. That yoga ball is huge though! It’d be fun to see if I could just kick it around, or something. That wouldn’t hurt, right? Something about huge balls is just amazing.
Wow, this thing is almost as tall as I am! I give it an experimental whack with a forehoof and it rolls a little bit. Not sure if I can turn sharply enough to walk around it in a circle, but I try walking up it, and of course as I do the ball slips out of my hooves and goes rolling across the floor. “Oh no, come back!” I call out worriedly, taking a step and then another step, and thankfully I’m food powered, rather than inertia powered, so the ball comes to a halt on the adjacent wall, just as I reach it. Squeezing up beside it, I wonder if I could whack it with my tail? I just gotta like... pretend I’m weaving right, and it’ll swing—boomp. Haha, it made a boomp noise when my tail hit it! And went rolling off in another direction along the wall.
When I reach it this time, I kneel down and flop onto my side, stretching my legs out as if I was going to walk on the ball. Sure enough, that pushapull thing works great on its large, smooth surface, and my hooves stick to the ball like suction cups. Without the actual suction though. I can rotate like that, because this giant ball is basically just filled with air and is really light, so soon I’m on my back, with my foor hooves clinging to a giant blue ball held above me. Huh, I wonder if... boomp. Oh yes, this is awesome. I can hold it like this and flip my tail up to hit it, and my hooves will hold it in place. Why was I even worried about having to use my tail? It’s just like waving your back around, after all!
Ace arrives before I invent a new form of musical instrument, poking his nose in the doors, saying, “Sweetie, you made it right?”
I drop the ball, abruptly. Which means... it just rolls off my hooves, and bounces off across the room again. “Over here!” I call out to him. “Just a sec!” From back, to side, to front hooves down, to hind hooves down. Then rearing up and clopping down into place, I’m a little splayed, but I correct it, sliding my legs up and smiling.
“You seem happier this week,” he says, trotting over to where I am. “You sure are getting better at moving around. Is that what’s got you smiling?”
I look at that wonderful pony who taught me all this, and my smile broadens. “No I’m smiling because—” aaand there it falters. Because I like him? Can I even say that, without it going poorly? He might want to... and I would totally be down for it, but... ugh, I should stop thinking about my doctor railing my virgin ass, just because his flanks are so toned and firm. I wouldn’t be down for it, and it wouldn’t be fair to Sweetie, and I don’t even know how much I can fit in that foal pocket I’ve got back there. Plus I’m not a faggot. ...I think.
“That’s why I’m happy, yes,” I finally decide to say. He seems satisfied with that, saying,
“Alright Sweetie, so here’s what we’re gonna do...”
A moment of confusion from me, and he continues, saying, “We’re gonna teach you how to walk without thinking about it!”
“In one afternoo҉n?!” I exclaim skeptically. “Is that even possible?”
“Of course it isn’t possible to learn that all in one afternoon,” he says slyly, “But you’ve been practicing all week, whether you knew it or not. Now we’re just gonna put that into practice, and see if you can walk and talk. Maybe even walk and sing!”
“Well obviously I can walk and sing,” I say as a tune starts playing. He smiles at me and—!
“Wait wait wait wait!” I interrupt desperately, falling on my bottom as I raise both my forearms. “I’m really sorry,” I say to... well, whoever, “But I want to learn to walk on my own. The last time there was a song, as soon as it ended I was back to square one again, and that was really upsetting, so—”
“Okay, okay Sweetie, no problem,” Ace says with a warm laugh. “How about we start you out with some climbing exercises, just to get warmed up?”
Well sure enough, Ace succeeds in getting me to walk without thinking. Because he’s a goddamn miracle worker. I climb up on the foam pillar easy enough, and he has me jump down, saying he’ll catch me. I start to look away nervously, but then I realize something. I still have to wake Sweetie Belle up. Or bring her back, or whatever you call it. And here’s the ultimate opportunity right here in front of me.
I shouldn’t think of him as an opportunity, but... this is kind of important, and I was having a hard time this morning! Never thought I’d be attracted to men, but I guess my gender identity isn’t as strong as I thought it was. My mind is such a plaything of this body, it’s downright silly. I haven’t even looked at mares erotically—no wait, um...
Okay maybe I’m just a perv, but I wiggle that tush of mine, and push off with my hind legs, flopping right into Ace’s waiting embrace. He seems surprised at that, wide eyed even, and he places me delicately to the floor saying happily, “Good job, Sweetie! You’re a brave little filly, you know that?”
No. But I just look halfway at him shyly, trying to work up the nerve to risk a peek at him... down there. It’s both mysterious and familiar, something that I once was, yet somehow exotically alien from myself. He’s got a thingy down there, I mean! He leads me through the exercises, and I try to pay attention to that male musk about him. That strong jaw beautifully dressed with his mutton chops, and occasionally, not that he’d even dream about doing it with me, but occasionally I get to see... between his legs.
No floppy penis swinging all over the place, but he does have two large, round testicles, the same fuzzy color of the rest of him. I don’t know if he’s not wearing his shorts for my sake, or for whatever the weather’s going to be like today, but looking at those things, they feel like I’m looking at little... baby grenades. Land mines that could... do things to me if I disturb them.
So I’m sitting here trying to actually get aroused by a man, and Ace keeps distracting me from that with his fascinating exercises. He has me tell him about my week while walking in place, which is just lifting your feet in a certain order so it’s a lot easier than walking. “I got a new magic instructor,” I told him. “We were playing at the college, with the spiral tower, me and m-my friends um...” I have to pause as I lose my rhythm, but he waits patiently while I rev up again, and then look his way, saying,
“And we went to the lake, where Scootaloo and Apple Bloom both got chased by a dragon turtle! I don’t know what was up with that, but I guess they handled it, but um...” Shit, lost it again. Walk, walk, walk, 1,3,2,4, okay, moving again.
He has me look up at the ceiling, while I lift a hoof as if to move forward, and I feel his own forehoof touch to mine, gently stroking it and exclaiming, “Feel that? That’s what you’re gonna walk with. You don’t even need to look at it. Now I’m going to move your hoof so hang tight missy.” He pushes my wrist/knee down cradled in two hooves until I feel the flat of my hoof pressing against the pliable tile floor. All the while not looking at it, just... feeling it.
“You feel that, Sweetie? Your hoof’s on the floor now,” he says carefully, and then puts pressure on my wrist, making me lift the hoof again, feeling it hanging in mid-air. “And now it’s not,” he assures me. And somehow it’s... comforting? I’m not so insecure that I need somepony to tell me when my hooves are on the ground, am I? Yet it makes me feel a little better about it. One hoof, then another, then my back hooves.
And okay, I am kind of blushing at this point. Why do ponies have to be naked all the time? I can’t believe I just asked myself that question! But he gets a full view of the goods, so to speak, while palpating my hind legs up and down. If I... if I start getting wet, there’s going to be no hiding it from him. He doesn’t even like me, so I’d just die of embarassment! I don’t want to lose control of myself that badly, do I? ...do I?
Horses can wink, right? What if I wink at him? I don’t know how to use the muscles down there! I might do it by accident! And by the time he’s done, I’m red faced, and tingly bottomed, unable to stop the... the physical response to thoughts like that. He doesn’t say anything, but has me start lifting my own hooves. I hope I didn’t put him off or something, but how do you ask someone about that? Hello, I couldn’t help but wonder if my smelly pussy is bothering you?
At last I can look at the floor again, and Ace is standing quite separate from me. That of course means I get a better view of him, which has its own issues regarding my surprisingly fickle arousal. He distracts me from it again, with his idea to put me in a sort of hanging harness, so that I can walk without any chance of falling over. And that’s just as easy as just lifting my legs in place! There’s not much freedom of motion, but I can walk and talk with minimal stumbles like that, and as I tell him about my frightening encounter with that monstrous flower, I’m actually keeping up with this treadmill underneath me!
I wonder how it’s powered?
The next step is removing the harness, of course. I’m standing on the treadmill now with my full weight on those soft white hooves, and I take a cautious step forward. The treadmill wobbles, but doesn’t move me off of it. “Alright Sweetie, now Walk, Walk Walk!” he says, as I start in place, and then start the motions. Walk, walk walk, I try to walk off the treadmill, but now it’s turning underneath me! Is it turning at the same speed that I walk, whatever it is?
“O...kay... I... can... do... this,” I chant curtly, putting one hoof after another, and staring forward determinedly. I don’t want to look at my hooves, not now. I can’t believe I’m—I’m not even thinking about walking anymore. I just... walk, walk, walk, and move hoof after hoof, and one proceeds just naturally to the other. Soon I’m like a unicorn girl walking machine, my hooves like pistons, and my hips swaying with the counterbalance of my tail. I don’t even know which hoof I’m on, I’m just doing... the next hoof, and the next, and the next.
“Well, Sweetie?” Ace says, “Don’t go quiet on me. We’ve got to get your mind off those hooves. What’s your favorite food?”
“A-amaranth,” I say unsurely, looking over at him without even breaking my rhythm. “Or something... I think I’m doing it!”
“You want me to stop the conveyor?” he asks hopefully. “I bet you’ll walk right off that belt!”
“O-okay, as long as... I’m ready for it,” I say, looking at my hooves and—dammit. I stumble to a halt, but only briefly before grimacing, and starting to walk, walk, walk again. Okay, I think I got it. Doing it. “Okay, ready,” I say, staring not at my hooves, but at the floor in front of the conveyor belt turning underneath me. He moves beside me, and it, and pushes something on the side, and it locks into place, with a dizzying vertigo as I start actually moving forward. Just walk, walk, walk, and I’m really doing it! I step, step, step off the conveyor belt, just like going down a single stair step, and I’m just... walking across the room.
“I am totally do҉ing it!” I squeal excitedly, as I feel so just—perfect doing this. I don’t have to think about hooves, why did I ever even think that? I just keep pushing forward, and when a hoof needs to go in place, I move it there. I—oh, my nose bumps into the mirror. Right, this is a wall, not more of the room.
And standing there in that mirror is a little filly, with big, round, serious eyes of the softest green, and fine hairs in pink and purple curling over my head, and beyond my rump in a lovely fluffy tail. I’d forgotten that my eyes were green! When was the last time I looked in the mirror? Have I ever looked into a mirror yet?
I’m Sweetie Belle.