If you asked me what I expected to become of my life, I certainly would not have told you that I would become a small unicorn girl, tethered to a swarthy stallion doctor re-learning how to turn circles by orbiting around him. I wouldn’t have said I’d ever live to see Ponyville, or Rarity, or magic. I’d just tell you I’m not going to become anything but older, and nothing special is going to happen until I die, alone. My fate was sealed the moment I was born, and this was not part of that fate. Somehow I escaped the inevitable doom that we all face, as everything we love is destroyed, and woke up as a small unicorn girl.
I don’t like easy. I don’t need easy. I need hope and wonder, and that’s exactly what I’ve got now. I don’t know how things work anymore. I don’t have that dreadful certainty, knowing that I’m already dead and just haven’t stopped moving yet. That orderly progression to higher and higher, spiraling ever downward to nothing. That’s not something I can assume anymore in my life. So I am certainly not complaining when I say it hasn’t been easy, but it hasn’t been easy.
Walking is... should’ve been easier than this! You just put your feet where you want to go, right? Well, it just was hard to get things to move right, probably because I’m whatever thing that took over Sweetie’s body, and it’s not natural for me to move as a pony. I don’t feel like a thing, but this lack of coordination is pretty damning evidence that I’m not supposed to be a pony. I’m surprised anypony even fell for it, much less everypony I’ve ever met. Am I really acting that much like Sweetie Belle? It’s certainly not anything I can take credit for. I’m just acting like... myself, and somehow that adds up to Sweetie Belle.
Well, a gimpy Sweetie Belle who can’t read, who is only now starting to learn to walk without having to stare at her hooves. But there’s just this... Sweetie Belleness that I can’t seem to escape, no matter how weird I’m acting. Am I being pigeonholed by other ponies, stereotyped as a young girl unicorn? Or am I just... Sweetie Belle?
In my slow, but regular progression across the room, I startle again, as beside me the tan and powerful Dr. Ace says, “OK, Sweetie, we’re almost out of time today, so how’s about you practice your turning, while I tell you what your homework for the next week is gonna be?”
“Okay?” I say, looking at him with trust, “How do I do that?”
Dr. Ace responds by flipping a rope off his back that he carried over to me, with one end looped around his neck, and the other in his mouth. Soon that other end is in my mouth, and—shut up it’s not indirect kissing this isn’t Japan—and Ace reveals another one of his brilliant ideas, in glorious action.
Which is to say, he stands in place while I bite down on the rope, and walking forward, the rope pulls me around in a circle, a tighter circle than I’ve ever done on my own. It’s so easy to turn like this, and that means I can focus on what my body is doing to turn. Hooves a little to the left there, and leaning, tail swinging right more than left, and... yeah.
While I do that, he speaks to me. “You’ve almost got it, Sweetie. You were genuinely walking at least three times this session! Now, it might get harder again, because learning this stuff is tough, and sometimes you’ll need to rest your brain a bit, but don’t worry about walking perfectly all the time. I want you to try to find ponies to walk with, so you can talk to them, and avoid thinking about which hoof to move.”
I’d answer him, but, well, rope in mouth, orbiting planet Ace.
“You can start out small, but try to walk more every day. It should come pretty quickly,” he continues, “The longer you can go without getting confused, the easier it’s going to be to keep going. I want you to write about where you walked, and how much you did, and how it made you—”
I stumble to a halt. Breathing in through my nose, I lift a hoof, and lean into the rope again, pushing forward with a walk, walk, walk, staring forward as I feel my feet move under me, until I feel kind of like... a duck floating across the water, with my feet underneath me moving me steadily around in circles.
“How it made you feel,” Ace concludes uncertainly. “Tired? Confused? Happy? Hungry? That’ll help me for next time, if you can do that.”
Well, no, I can’t. But maybe Sweetie Belle can help me... if I can get her back, that is. Oh, this is so amazing that I can just move like this! Why does the rest of it have to be so complicated?
“Oh, before I let you go, I want the magic doctor to take a look at you,” Ace says to me, as I try not to think about how I’m walking along the hallway in the direction he leads. “They said your motor complex was skewed when you went in for your examination, and I’m pretty sure you’ve just about recovered from that, but they can get an exact measurement.”
He leads me into a room I was in before, with the glowy, steam powered scanner machine. Once again, the technician ponies affix the metal helmet over my head, light up the thing, and suffuse the room with hums and hisses of steam. Ace talks with the curt technicians, and thanks them with a smile, then takes me out of the room. Oh, um.
“Thank you!” I call back to them, not even realizing that I continued walking forward while doing so, for several steps before I stumble again. Resuming my slow walk, walk, walk, and then determinedly refusing to—and stumbling again, and starting again, eventually I get lucid enough that Ace can tell me, while moving, “It looks like you have some skew in there still. And the reason I did that now was because there’s somepony I’d like you to meet today.
I look at him with worry. “Okay?” I tell him. “It’s okay if you just tell me I don’t mind.”
“It’s a pony by the name of Strawberry Sunrise, who’s really good with other ponies,” Ace says accomodatingly. “I think you would like Dr. Sunrise.”
I’m skeptical...
He leads me to the second floor, which I manage to reach admirably if I do say so myself. Not an office, but just a waiting room, with a few ponies in it. Some white haired mare looking at me nervously. Some place I’d be so depressingly familiar with, if it weren’t for the colorful horses in the room. Fake potted plant and everything. Wait actually, I think that’s a real rubber plant?
Well, Ace goes in the back, and comes out with—oh good it’s not another stallion. Wait, good? Oh, no, surely I didn’t think it’d be even more swarthiness! I’m innocent, I swear officer!
But the pony who strides through that door behind the physical therapist is a pretty looking mare in the nice and pretty sense, with a cheeky looking smile, and a mane and tail of bright red hair. Like, really bright red. Like, I’m actually taken aback by the way her bright red curls contrast with her pale yellow fur, and yet as strange as she looks I’m still struck with a strange sense of familiarity.
“Well, hello there!” she says in a Dixie accent. I look up at her.
“Oh my,” she says, her face falling. “This looks serious!”
“What?” I reply in startled confusion.
“I’m just playing with you, cutie,” she replies with a snarky smile. “So I hear you’ve been having some issues you wanted to work out, and maybe you could use somepony to talk to?”
Is... she for real? “How many patients do you have?” I ask without thinking. Dammit I was curious, but that probably sounded really rude!
“What a thing to ask!” she replies, “Are you curious about my work?”
I start to shake my head, but think better of it, finally. “I just don’t know how you have time for ponies, if you just... are you just doing this for free?”
“Is that something you’re worried about?” she asks with a concerned look.
“I’m just not used to... I mean, it’s weird, that’s all,” I grumble in explanation. “Everypony’s helped me so much, and you just... just like that, I get counseling? You’re just giving it to me without me even having to repay you? And he’s just giving me... walking lessons? That must be infu҉riating! But he just... does it. Who’s paying for all this? Because I can’t pay for it. I don’t know why everypony is being so nice to me!”
OK that last part was too shrill to be grumbling. I blush and settle more firmly on the ground again, and her response is, “Well, it looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me.”
That sounds rhetorical, so I just look up at her. She smiles and pats me on the curls with a hoof, saying, “See you later, cutie! I’ll talk with your parents to see about scheduling something.” She emphasizes those words deliberately, making me feel kind of dumb. Of course my parents are paying for it, because I’m an 8 year old girl. Still doesn’t tell me how much, though.
Ace leads me out to the waiting room, where of course my parents are standing, looking guilty like they just tried to sneak one past me. He trots out the door, taking him and his beautifully sculpted ass on to whoever his next patient is. I face my parents in the meantime.
“I’m okay with therapy,” I chastise the two of them, “I think it could help me. You don’t have to pretend it’s not therapy.”
“Oh, well, we’re just not sure, you know,” Dad says, twiddling nervously with his moustache.
“What your father’s trying to say is we just don’t want to upset you, Sweetie Belle,” Mom says, “We’re kind of new at this whole business too, so we might mess up some.”
“I’ll let you know if anything upsets me,” I tell her seriously, but a smile plays on my muzzle when I look back at the hallway I emerged from. “I think I’d like to see her again though,” I say hopefully. I really do need someone to work through these issues of mine, and I’m not just worried about the issue of being Sweetie Belle.
I have to stop in my tracks twice to try and regain my bearings on the way out of the hospital, and Mom finally just tosses me on her back. They go skillfully trotting on to take me out into the bright sunlight of the day outside.
We return home, and Mom drops me off. I look up her bright pink body, and ask, “So, what am I doing this afternoon?”
“I dunno, honey. We don’t have anything planned if that’s what you’re asking,” she says.
My ears go down at that. “Oh, right, yeah,” I say. “I was just assuming I had to do something.”
“You can go play with your little friends, if you like?” she asks. “First I’d like to get some lunch in ya.”
I have to smile at that. “Thanks for taking such good care of me, Mom,” I tell her gratefully. Then with her contemplatively silent, the two of us (with me not on her back!) go walk into her house, ready to get lunch.
Would you believe a swiss cheese, swiss chard special? Chard always tasted sort of like dirt to me, but this stuff is hearty and dense, much funner to chew than plain old lettuce. Swiss cheese is still holey and still delicious. Combine that with some mustard and my favorite bread, and it’s pretty darn good actually.
“Alright, I’m heading out honey,” Mom says once she finishes her sandwich. “You need anything else?”
“No, I think... I’m fine,” I say cautiously. “If you see my friends you can send them this way, but for now I just want to play. In my room. Alone. You know.”
“Sure thing, just keep an ear out for ‘em,” Mom says. “But no promises. You know how hard it is to track down that orange one.”
“Heh... yeah,” I say a little blushingly.
With Mom gone, and the house to myself, I’m free to do whatever I want, all by myself. With the obvious in mind, I cautiously climb up the stairs. At the top, I make my way into my room, with its lovely toybox, and awful tape recorder I still haven’t decided what to do with, and... soft plush bunny. Well I guess that might help. Taking the rather large bunny plush in my teeth, I wobble my way over to the bed, where a few tries gets the bunny on there, and then I climb after it. Laying on my back on top of the bed covers, I wiggle to get my thick, pink and purple tail laid out between my white furred legs. Taking Mister Frumplekins hooked in my right arm, it feels good to squeeze him, like a one-sided hug.
Then I slide my left hoof in between my legs.
A relieved whimper escapes me as my neglected folds are finally stroked. My thoughts immediately go to Ace and what we did today, and how much of a stallion he is. My entrance feels so soft under my hoof. I wonder at the differing feel there and the rest of my pelvis. Just a devilishly soft area that tingles when I touch it, and eventually grows wet. Moisture I have to remind myself, that I’m producing with the express purpose of making me easier for a stallion to slide into. Just the thought that my body, that my body could get ridden by a stallion, or at least a very eager colt, it’s pretty incredible. Ramps up the tingling more than I would have expected.
I start thinking about... about all those hot throbbing stallion dicks I’ve seen in porn. About that one picture where Trenderhoof’s dick is porking a dizzy looking Sweetie Belle, trying to adjust her young body to accomodate his cock. The one that Sweetie Belle actually saw~ I can’t—can’t teach her what this means this incredible tingly... thingy rising in me. All my source material is worlds away, maybe even lost forever (maybe that’s not a bad thing). All those wonderful, throbbing, meaty cocks. I’ll just have to—I’ll just have to go find a real one. Oh, oh man or Ace, or the—the lumberjacks, or Shining Armor~
I freeze in place. Not... not him? Oh please don’t let me have fantasies about that stallion. Just because he’s a prince, and really stereotypically devoted and... loving. I’m not making a good case for this here. Aaaand I’m completely unhorny again. Great. Who’s idea was it to get an 8 year old girl to orgasm again? Oh right, it’s me. It was my idea.
I eventually work myself back up to that height again. I’m glad I have an afternoon free though, like seriously. Leaves me free to hunch over huffing as I slowly tease my round little groin into culmination, for as long as I need to do that. Oh, if only I could fill myself. That would totally help me masturbate. Or, would it? Would it help, or am I just aching for it because I need~ it?
Oh yes, definitely heading for an orgasm now. I try to think about myself, a cute little unicorn filly, rammed up that moist cunny by some stallion’s cock. By dad’s yesss he’d find me doing this and and then push me down and pull my tail and yes I’m doing it! I can feel it! I’m—! Nnnnnf, come onnn. Almost... oh! Oh ye—here it...!
I cover my mouth with the side of my right arm, squealing into it as that girl place erupts into motion. It feels like my entire hindquarters are convulsing, my leg kicking in the air from the impetus of what’s happening inside me. A dizzy rush of pleasure radiates from that beautiful event. And with a relieved sigh, I relax, just tingling all over from what I’ve done. Did I—
Was I really fantasizing about my dad?!
Her dad.
Wait no, it’s perfectly normal, if it’s someone else’s dad. Wait no, it’s gay even if it’s someone else’s dad. But if it’s my dad... I think that means I’m pretty messed up. And gay. I never knew becoming a little unicorn girl would make me so damn gay.
Sweetie Belle compounds the situation by asking, “Why were you calling for daddy? It felt really good when you did, but... he’s not even in the house?”
“Hello, Sweetie Belle,” I groan, putting both arms over my face. “I was just thinking about him. It—It helps.”
“I noticed!” she replies. “You can hear me again so that’s good. And... we’re not so itchy down there, so that’s good. I feel kind of icky though. Why do I keep getting... slimy like that?”
“It has to do with colts, and why I... think about them when I’m doing that,” I tell her hesitantly. Should I tell her tell her? I mean, I’m already going straight to Tartarus for... masturbating as her. It’d be okay if I was a little girl to start with, but I used to be a man, a full grown man. That means I can’t... it means I’m not supposed to feel good... like this.
I can’t help but feel pouty and resentful at that. It’s not like I chose to be a man! Or a little girl, currently. But, I’m glad to have a chance to talk with Sweetie Belle again... the only pony in Equestria who I can really confide to. She knows... she knows I’m not supposed to be a little girl. She thinks it’s perfectly fine, but that’s just because she doesn’t understand how wrong it is. Once she lets it slip to a grownup who knows how evil it is for a man to be a girl, I’m pretty much doomed. So why not go all in, and help Sweetie Belle as much as I can before... the end?
Yeah, I know, you can always dig a deeper hole.
“You want me to show you something cool about your um... special place?” I chirp out hopefully.
“Cooler than orgasm?” she asks eagerly. Oh sweet Celestia I’m creating a monster.
“D-different than orgasm, but kind of,” I say. “I just want to show you how it really is supposed to work, and I heard it feels really... interesting when you do that.”
“Well, okay,” Sweetie Belle replies cautiously, “But you don’t have to do it if you’re not okay with it. I know being me must feel really weird for you. You know, being a... stallion and all...”
“I wish I wasn’t,” I admit. “Then maybe I wouldn’t be in so much trouble for... this.”
“But why?” she asks incredulously. “You were a stallion! You had a... a thingy...” she trails off whispering, “A penis!”
“It’s a long... story,” I admit resignedly. “I’ll tell it to you, but part of it is this secret I wanted to show you, about yourself.”
“Well, what is it?” she asks, bouncing back to eagerness. “C’mon, tell me tell me!”
“I’ll show you!” I reply brightly. “I just need something long and not too wide, and that won’t break.” I look around her room, pondering, “Like some sort of rod... oh and it can’t be sharp. Any ideas what I could use?”
“Hmm,” Sweetie ponders. “How about... a pencil?”
I shake my head, “Too narrow, and pointy. I mean more like... hmm...”
Several minutes later, we have assembled an interesting panalpy of items. A shampoo bottle, a broom, a hairbrush, a lipstick container, an old curtain rod, a box of crayons, and a pencil. I look at the others with trepidation, before settling on the broom. “This’s probably the best idea,” I tell Sweetie, “It’ll be the hardest to mess up with, and I’m kinda worried about the crayon breaking, or something getting lost.”
“So... remember where you put it?” she asks in confusion.
Shaking my head, I say, “Let me just show you. I uh... I mean, I’m showing me too. This is something I heard about, but I never got to try before,” I clarify. “I’ll be very careful though, and maybe we can both enjoy it.”
“Okay, as long as you’re careful,” Sweetie says uneasily.
Laying belly up on the floor again, I cradle the broom on my inner thigh, and start touching myself again. I’m still kind of sticky from—from the last time, but even if I already orgasmed, I’m just making sure I’m... loosened up enough. I try pressing my forehooves on either side of the entrance and pulling, and actually I can only pull with one at a time at first, feeling an overwelming uh... stretchy sensation when I stretch myself too far. But when I don’t...
“Unhh,” Sweetie Belle groans. “That feels really good.”
“It’s supposed to be stretched down there,” I say incensedly concentrating on my fillyhood. “It likes being stretched...feels good...”
“Oh I hope we can orgasm again,” she says at the wet hungriness making my groin feel soft and accepting and empty.
“I dunno... it feels good, but... we’re kind of young,” I grunt, my hoof already slick with my—with our juices. “Might not be... ready to orgasm... this young,” I say haltingly, getting lost in the business of stimulating myself, before remembering what we were doing in the first place.
“Okay, I think I’m... we’re wet enough,” I tell Sweetie.
“Wet...?” she breathes back... despite not actually breathing. “I like being wet~”
A twinge inside me makes both of us squeak.
“If you like that,” I say huskily, “Wait until you get a load of this.” Lifting the broom in my hoof, I position it nestled right in my moist, feminine petals, right were I go in. “Nnf...” I contribute, my hips rolling slowly as I press the broom handle against myself down there.
“Oh that’s... good too,” Sweetie says in lusty confusion. “But stop teasing me! I want—I want you to do more than just touch me with it!”
“Like what?” I ask teasingly, continuing to shamelessly enjoy stimulating myseeelf.
“I dunno, anything!” she replies.
Now or never, I guess.
Pushapulling like I never pushapulled before, I get the broom worked into myself, right where the entrance would be. And—holy shit that’s tight! Immediately I’m just... wrapped around this thing. The... the petals wrapped around feel strained, and with how sensitized everything is down there, it feels a lot.
“What... what are you doing you’re...” she pants, clearly affected by my racing heart and flushed face as I am. “It’s gonna get stuck!” she wails in confusion.
“It’s... it’s fine,” I say optimistically. “I’m not gonna do a crayon unless I h-have to. Just... give it a moment... you’re very stretchy down... wow, down there, and... ugh!” I wiggle restlessly, my white hind legs squirming around the broom stick. With little wiggles, I carefully—
“Okay, I think... it isn’t hurting now, as much,” Sweetie Belle announces, and she’s right that alarming tightness has faded to a dull roar. I try pulling the broom into me more and—woah, ow, there comes the tightness again!
“Stop! you’re not supposed to...” Sweetie Belle says in utter confusion, making me freeze in fear. “...whatever it is you’re doing. It hurts, and it’s getting stuck!”
It’s... easier to work it out of me than vice versa. Darn thing barely even went in. What have I got down there, a dimple? “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I sigh, “But maybe we should start with the curtain rod.”
“I don’t know if I want to play this,” Sweetie Belle says resentfully. “That hurt!”
“It’s... you’re just young, and I guess even a skinny broom is too much,” I say somewhat more lucidly. “It stops hurting with practice, and also growing bigger. But we almost got it, so the curtain rod should be easy!”
“OK if you insist,” she says reluctantly. “What are you even doing pushing it against my filly parts?”
“Remember that picture I had of you and Trenderhoof?” I ask her. Laying spread legged, and propping myself on the wall for support, I bring the curtain rod to bear.
“And Rarity,” she says mutedly.
“Well, imagine his penis is like a broom, or... this thing,” I say at the semi-flexible “resin” rod. “He pushes it against you, down here and...”
Aligning with that entrance again, I grip the rod in my forehooves, and pull. It’s downright anticlimactic how easily it slides into me. Sweetie Belle is pretty flabbergasted though, saying, “Woah! What is it doing? Did it... squish? I don’t even...”
I think the issue is, I can’t really feel it any further beyond the entrance, that the broom was punishing. But I have an idea on how we might be able to feel it.
“Let me just...” I mumble, touching a hoof to the side of the curtain rod and pulling it sideways. Oh boy do I feel that! Using my entrance as a fulcrum, it pushes against the side in there. Oh man I can feel it going right up deep into me!
“W-what?” Sweetie Belle says in an astonished tone, “What is... I can feel it way up there!”
Talk about a witch’s cauldron! I want to stir it around in there, because... it’s a vagina! I’m literally feeling my vagina right now! But I’m clumsy in manouvering the rod, and can only really pull it sideways. “Yes,” I agree with her in excitement. “Way up...” I vaguely touch somewhere on my abdomen, “um... somewhere. Surprise?”
“How is it sticking into me?” she asks, “Did it make a hole? It doesn’t hurt at all though!”
“No, it feels...” I use it to slightly stretch out those inner walls again, “Nnh. Really good. It didn’t make a hole. You just didn’t know that you had one. You’ve had a special passage in there since you were born.”
“Why does it feel that way?” she asks, dangerously close to the “why” territory.
“That... place has really stretchy sides,” I explain despite probably being the least qualified authority to teach someone about this stuff. “It likes being stretched.”
“...except not too much,” Sweetie replies chidingly.
Glancing at the broom, I say, “Yeah, sorry I didn’t think it would be that tight. We almost had it, though!”
“So why do I have a... a place in there?” Sweetie asks excitedly.
“I dunno,” I say, sending us screeching back out of “why” territory. “But you remember that picture of you and Tr—of you, Trenderhoof, and Rarity?”
“The stallion was named Trenderhoof, right?” Sweetie asks. “The one I was sitting o-on wait you mean...”
“You know how colts have a penis that goes out,” I prompt to her casually, “And fillies don’t have a thing that goes out...”
“They have a thing that goes in!” she replies in surprise and a little alarm. “But his penis! It was... all the way in there?”
“That’s right,” I say with a half smile.
“That’s gross!” Sweetie Belle says vehemently. Uhm. “I don’t want a colt’s smelly... p–penis really? His penis?”
“Well, some really flexible mares can do hooves,” I reply, looking at one coyly, “But yes. That’s why you have a place that goes in. To put a penis in there.”
“Why?” Ooh boy.
“I could try to guess,” I tell her, “But really, it’s better if you read about it in the library. That way you don’t have to trust just me about it, and I won’t make any mistakes like... I did with the broom.”
“Yeah... I think we should,” Sweetie says, suspicious, “I don’t know what the books will say, but I bet it’s not putting a penis in there. What is he supposed to do, pee in me?”
“Let’s just read the books,” I say a bit nervously. I’m a bit redfaced still, but definitely calming down. Did I really just... blurt out all that? It feels so normal to just talk with her, and yet I’ve... slid a thing inside me! Her. Whatever.
“You’re the one who moves me,” she says, disconsolately, “Go there whenever you want, and I’ll try to read whatever you... want.”
I’m silent for a moment, regarding the empty air in front of me. “Thank you Sweetie Belle,” I say at last, “And maybe you can show me some of the things you like to read, too.”
“Oh, I like...!” she says, trailing off excitedly (somehow). “Comic books,” she says abashedly, as if ashamed. “And song books. There are shows in Manehattan that—”
The sound of hooves clatter on the floorboards far below us, followed by the words,
“Sweetie Belle, you in here?” almost sung in a familiar voice in more ways than one.
“Apple Bloom!” Sweetie says in alarm.
“Oh no, we still have all this stuff out!” I whisper, terrified, “I don’t want to tell her too! Not like this!”
I stand up, saying, “OK I’ll just—woah!” Holy bananas I forgot about the curtain rod! How did I forget about the curtain rod? After practically flipping myself over my own vagina, I slide it out, Sweetie Belle saying very helpfully,
“Quick! No you—just go and—ow!” and stuff like that.
I get the curtain rod jammed under her sheets, and kick the broom away from the center of the room as I hear hoofsteps on the stairs. Practically leaping over to the tissue box and fumbling out a tissue, I manage to wipe the soft cloth on my smooth round groin, slicking down the fur as Apple Bloom throws the door open, saying, “Sweetie Belle you in here—Sweetie Belle!” her orange eyes brightly light on me.
“Achoo!” I say into the tissue, letting it drop beside me. Why did I even think to try
making a convincing sneeze? Apple Bloom’s eyes widen, while Scootaloo pokes her nose in after her, the pink bowed ketchup-and-mustard filly saying with worry,
“Oh no, Sweetie! Are ya not feeling well?”
Thank god for back country inbreeding.
“No I just got some dust in my nose,” I say, sniffling. “What’s up?”
“Or a curtain rod,” Sweetie Belle says smugly, “In my other nose.”
I am going to Hell.
“Me!” Apple Bloom says puffing out her chest proudly, “Ah’m up, and ah feel great!”
“We didn’t see you at the playground,” Scootaloo says, looking around from behind her, “And then we remembered you have amnesia, so we thought you might have forgotten we meet there on play days.”
“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been... um...” I say uncertainly.
“Busy,” Sweetie Belle prompts.
“Just busy messing around at home,” I reply. “Thanks for coming to get me. I couldn’t really walk to the playground either, even if I knew where it was from here.”
At both their ears going down, I say frantically, “But the doctor said I should practice walking as much as possible, and I’m already doing much better! And I need to practice talking with ponies while walking, and I’m so happy to have somepony to talk with!”
I think I really meant that? I feel like I do! Is it just Sweetie being Sweetie again? These are just some dumb kids, heartwarming in their stupid antics. I should be laughing amusedly and separating myself from them, remarking about what kids are up to these days. But I don’t feel that way. I’m talking to Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, the genuine, honest-to-gosh CMC! As they follow alongside me out, trying to offer tips, or tell me about their awesome day so far. Scootaloo is saying,
“And then I almost touched the roof! Everypony thought I was gonna fall, but I didn’t! I’m really getting better at my scooter, I think!”
And it’s not cute. It’s cool! She’s got that easy lilt, that forward facing confident expression, she’s somepony I could look up to, not some little kid to laugh at! And Apple Bloom? I know I’ve been thinking racist jokes at her expense, but Applejack is adorable compared to Apple Bloom. She says,
“Ah was readin’ about walkin’ and stuff and’ja know that ponies can walk even when they’re little bitty babies? Supposed to be from way back when we travelled as herds and walked evrwhere on account of we didn’t even have houses can you imagine?”
Apple Bloom’s not a dumb kid at all. She’s a... historian! Anthro...horsopologist? All I know is I’m sorely lacking in the knowledge of history department. So, I dunno, I just... stumble along silently, not really feeling up to talking and walking yet, but listening to them engrossedly, and trying not to pay attention to my stride. And they’re just... really cool. F-for kids.
I get worn out pretty quick, but Scootaloo is there to let me perch in the wagon when I get tired of trying to walk around. The others can move faster that way. And all the while chattering about things, with me shyly contributing what the real Sweetie Belle wants to say, when I can get a word in edgewise.
“Applejack up and ran out this morning,” Apple Bloom said animatedly. “She didn’t say what was up, but guess who came to pick her up?”
“Rainbow Dash?” Scootaloo asked, ever hopeful.
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Rarity!” she said. “They didn’t say, but it was clear they had importan business goin’ on. She’d never skip on her morning chores if’n it weren’t.”
“You don’t have to do her chores now, do you?” Scootaloo asked with a wince.
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Thank gravy no. Ah still cain’t even get the trees to let their apples loose. It’s real hard to do!”
“Huh,” I remark, “Rarity was supposed to take me to physical therapy today, and she never showed up. I wonder if it’s related.”
“Let’s go to Rarity’s boutique!” the real Sweetie Belle asks, while I pretend to ask the same thing, so the other two can hear. “Then we can ask her what she was doing with Applejack.”
Scootaloo diverts the cart’s path, and soon we’re gallopping, scooting, and riding, respectively, up to an iconic purple and pink carousel, which I’ve been blessed to become very familiar with lately. Scootaloo parks her scooter out front, and I climb out of the wagon. Once on my hooves, I make my way toward the other two, who are just sitting there staring at the door.
“What are you doing?” I ask curiously.
Apple Bloom looks at me oddly saying, “Your sister still ain’t home.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Caint you read the note on the door?” Apple Bloom asks, pointing to a paper tacked onto the door that definitely has... writing on it.
“Oh right,” Apple Bloom facehooves, “You forgot how t’ read.”
“The boutique is closed for today, dooey to important bussy ness in Canterlot,” Sweetie Belle reads as I gaze at it, “So sorry for the incon...vennyness.”
“It says her boutique is closed,” Scootaloo says, “Something about Canterlot.”
“I guess we can’t ask her then,” I say uncertainly. “I hope this isn’t anything serious.” Wracking my brain for... her brain for... my her brain for answers, I try to think what reasons the main six might have been called to Canterlot.
Oh no.
“L-l-l-let’s go to the lake,” I say in mild terror, “I mean, because it’s far away and we should be safe, or maybe your apple orchard I don’t think he got there until later.”
“What are you talkin’ about, Sweetie Belle?” Apple Bloom asks with confusion. Oh shoot, she doesn’t know, except she kind of does except, “Um... um...” I look overhead, trying to spot pink clouds in the sky. Wait—shoot, those started at Applejack’s farm, and he’d just know if we were at the clubhouse, which isn’t even finished. He’d probably give us a palace, but there would be something terribly wrong with it, and he’d make us feel bad for liking it and if he found out about me he might—!
“Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom shouts in my face, returning my attention to the present moment.
“Huh?” I tell her intelligently.
“What’s wrong?” Apple Bloom asks worriedly. “You’re so worked up you’re almost pullin’ a Rarity here!”
“I’m not... what?” I say, my alarm totally derailed by that utterly confusing allusion.
“You know, panicking, hyperventilating, freaking out, summoning furniture...” Scootaloo lists off.
“I don’t even know how to summon furniture!” I squeak in response.
“But why do you want to go to the lake again so bad?” Apple Bloom continues to entreat me. “What’s botherin’ ya, spit it out already!”
“There’s a bad—guy,” I say hesitantly. “He um... it’s part of that weird... meteor knowledge that I got. If our sisters got called to Canterlot now have... have we gone on a field trip lately?”
“Uh, in the summer?” Apple Bloom replies, looking lost.
“No no no, I mean before the summer started,” I say, and then I think about what I said. “Which would be a long time ago... huh...”
“Last field trip we took was... um... oh right, the Trottingham zoo!” Apple Bloom declares. “It was kinda like a circus, except everypony was real serious about it, and there were lotsa beautiful plants too.”
“And everypony talked funny,” Scootaloo makes sure to add.
“That’s just Trotland,” Apple Bloom says dismissively, “Everypony talks like that down there.”
“Oh and you’re such an expert?” Scootaloo says snidely.
“Hey it’s just what mah sister said,” Apple Bloom responded with a huff. “Ponies of a—”
“Listen, it’s not the zoo I’m thinking of, but the Canterlot statue garden,” I say urgently, “I really need to know if we’ve been there recently.”
“I didn’t even know Canterlot had a statue garden,” Scootaloo admits, kicking a hoof on the ground.
“Then why...” I say, turning to look at the distance. There’s a city up there, a castle city with shining golden towers... and a particular statue who we three were supposed to free. Did I mess that up? Then why would they be called to Canterlot?
“Why what?” Sweetie Belle asks.
“Why would Rarity and Applejack be called to Canterlot?” I reply distractedly.
“Fashion show?” Sweetie asks.
“She’d have let us know then,” I reply. “A fashion show isn’t an emergency.”
“Well, ah suggested a carnival,” Apple Bloom said, “But ah guess fashion makes more sense for Rarity’s line of work.”
Oh... shit that was close. I’ve gotta remember I can’t talk to Sweetie Belle when we’re not alone.
“Whatever they’re doing, we’ll have to ask when they get back,” Scootaloo says practically. “Why did you want to talk to her again?”
“I don’t...” drawing a blank here, “...know. I guess... something about Canterlot?”
“Well at least we know where mah sister’s got off to,” Apple Bloom points out. “So that’s one mystery solved!”
“You wanna practice walking somewhere?” Scootaloo asks me with a hopeful smile, “We can help with that, and maybe we can play a little!”
“Oh, could we? Please?” Sweetie asks in a pleading tone.
“We uh—what games do you know how to play?” I ask them. I sure don’t remember what I played back in the school yard. Mostly played pretend, ironically enough.
“Well I have a... a ball we could use,” Scootaloo suggests, “So maybe we could play keep-up?”
“How about you kick the ball somewhere,” Apple Bloom says, “And Sweetie Belle goes an’ gets it! We cain kick it to where she’s gonna be walkin’”
“Oh gee,” I reply with a giggle, “I wonder what kinda places you could get me to walk to.”
“Not in other ponies’ flowers, please!” Sweetie Belle asks worriedly. Looking around, I can see that most of the houses here do have gardens, generally bursting with tasty looking flowers. Wait, tasty?
Yeah... tasty.
“As long as it doesn’t go into anypony’s garden,” I say. The other two nod sagely, to their credit.
“C’mon, I saw it over there!” Scootaloo says, charging off.
“Saw what?” I ask, managing a few steps in that direction.
“The ball!” she calls back, looking at me with a strained expression. Then the orange pegasus’s eyes widen, and she calls out, “Oops, sorry!” She trots a ways towards me, before stuttering to a halt, saying again, “Oops, I mean...” Scootaloo then turns again to run the other way again, saying, “I’ll be right back with it!”
Scootaloo comes galloping back with a red ball held in her... tail. It like, hooks around behind the ball and sort of... cups it against her forward motion? It doesn’t look like something a tail could do, now that I think on it.
“Got it!” she trots up, flicking her tail to send it arcing over to the ground in between me and Apple Bloom.
“Good goin’ Scoots!” Apple Bloom says delightedly, trotting up and putting a forehoof on top of it to steady the ball. “Now we gonna play kickball, or keep up, or tailcrosse, or maybe somethin’ else?”
“Let’s play keep up!” Scootaloo says. “I bet I can get way more bounces this time around.”
“Um,” I have to cut in. “Let’s play kickball, because I can walk to it then, and kick it.”
The others mumble approval and nod at that.
So Scootaloo kicks the ball, just gently, and I lift a hoof, and waddle over to it. Great success! “Okay um... I kick it to Apple Bloom, right?” I ask, looking Apple Bloom’s way.
“Give it a shot, Sweetie Belle!” Apple Bloom cheers encouragingly. I swear I get goose bumps every time somepony calls me that.
“A-alright...” I say tentatively, looking at the ball, and lifting a forehoof. It’s not anything like kicking of course. More like... flicking. “Hey, it’s like we’re playing flickball!” I exclaim, flicking it sort of in Apple Bloom’s general direction.
“Whattya mean, Sweetie?” Apple Bloom asks, catching it under her forehoof.
“Because we’re flicking,” I say, waving my forehoof around, “Not kicking!”
“Flickball sounds weird though,” Scootaloo whines, “We should make it sound the same as kickball, like if we called it um...” She punched a hoof forward, saying, “Punchball!”
“Yeah, I dunno why I thought flickball was... the same?” I reply, a little confused as to what my thinking was there. Might as well call it slideball, right? “At least punchball sounds more like kickball,” I have to agree.
“Ah’m just gonna call it what it is,” Apple Bloom said, “Now, go git it Sweetie Belle!” She punch/kick/flicked the ball to bounce over along the dusty road. I follow after it, and Scootaloo runs ahead of me, shouting,
“Kick it here!”
I do, sorta. Then Scootaloo shouts, “Now walk over to me!”
Okay... doing good so far. Straight line path, not thinking about hooves—shit. Scootaloo grows in my vision as I approach, standing beside her pensively.
Then Scootaloo kicks the ball even further away. “Now go get that!” she says, running after the ball and going past it.
“Where you two goin?” Apple Bloom asks, easily trotting past my struggling to walk filly form.
“The park,” Scootaloo answers. “Let’s kick it all the way there, and then we’ll have plenty of room to play!”
“Good idea, Scootaloo!” I say, looking past her for where I hope the park is pretty close to here. It is, it turns out. Actually, it turns out that Ponyville has a lot of parks, so you’re always close to one. The infrequent pony traffic on the packed dirt roads becomes soft, emerald green grass, covering the shallow curve of the hill here. It’s a lawn surrounded by a walking path, with elegant benches alongside it, with bowed metal feet, and thin smooth boards of a whitish wood, fashioned into a seamless curve.
Across the path is more park, but more wooded, with a handful of trees, and some meandering shrubbery that looks like it’d be just great to hide in. My hooves press into the soft, yet unmuddied turf, and I feel... at home.
“Go on, kick the ball Sweetie!” Apple Bloom calls out, snapping me out of my trance. With a look her way, I kick the ball, and start running after it. And by running after it, I mean overbalancing, and falling down on my belly with a huff.
“I’m okay!” I call out to assure them, and make my way to my hooves again. This is great. There’s nothing to run into, nothing to trip over, and falling doesn’t hurt. I’m already so close to the ground! I know I’ve been er... “walking” with Ace out on the hospital’s lawn, but in my mad scramble to keep up with the others, falling over myself trying to catch the ball, I feel so much safer than I have trying to walk around this whole time.
If only I didn’t feel like I was going to fall face down with every step, but it’s just not... right being parallel to the ground like this. I keep trying to rear up and... generally falling over, but overall it’s actually a really fun afternoon, playing in the park in the sweet, peaceful quiet that is Ponyville.
I’m in the middle of giving cheers that vanish into the spacious outdoor air, while Scootaloo and Apple Bloom battle for the ball kicking in between them. Suddenly a... a something happens. It just... goes through me in a wave of disorientation, and I turn to the left of me, just as Scootaloo, Apple Bloom, and the rest of the ponies in the park are all turning to look. I can see Canterlot, the golden city in the distance, high up on that mountainside, and... a rainbow is spreading out from it, wreathing the entire city in an eerie, multihued glow.
A rumbling roar shudders through us, fading out in slow echoes.
“What” Sweetie and I start to say before Scootaloo leaps up into the air, her wings buzzing as she shouts in delight,
“Rainbow Dash!”
She comes clomping down speaking to us at a mile a minute, “That was Rainbow Dash! It had to be! It was her Sonic Rainboom! She’s up in Canterlot and there’s a monster attacking and she’s kicking some evil monster butt! She”
“Slow down, Scoots!” Apple Bloom says, holding the excited pegasus steady and telling her, “There’s no way that was a Sonic Rainboom. We heard it all the way from Canterlot! It’s... it made the whole city glow!”
“Well, maybe it was something new then,” Scootaloo asserts, “A Super Sonic Rainboom!”
“Maybe it was...” Apple Bloom says engrossedly, staring in that direction at the castle town wreathed in rainbow.
“Whatever it was, we’ll be hearing about it pretty soon I bet,” I say thoughtfully.
“Y’know, maybe I oughta check back with mah folks,” Apple Bloom says nervously, “It’s gettin’ on time for the evenin’ chores anyway.”
“Aww, come on!” Scootaloo whines, “This is important! We gotta tell everypony that Rain—that the Elements of Harmony are doing something in Canterlot. We might be the only ponies who know what’s going on!”
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I point out, “Plus Apple Bloom is going to tell everypony about it, starting with her um... folks.”
“Oh, yeah that’s right,” Scootaloo agrees, “So you want to take care of your family, Apple Bloom, and me and Sweetie Belle will take the rest of Ponyville?”
“Ah dunno, it seems a bit unfair,” Apple Bloom says, with another worried look at Canterlot glowing in the evening sun, “Ah just don’ wanna worry nopony, and wanna make sure it’s okay, with our sisters, and.. all.”
“I sleep at [Scootaloo’s pony on Wednesdays