I look up from my work, my computer. I leave from staring at the screen, and spin on my chair, standing up on it as it spins, and leaping down to land solidly, on my four hooves. I’m walking through my house, my old house, my apartment. That place where I have to live until I die, or lose my home again. There’s only a few rooms in my apartment, but they’re mixed together with the rooms from old houses, now the house that my mother used to live at. I can’t see her though, or anyone around me for that matter. That’s okay though, it’s normal.
I look at the glowing screen sitting there on the kitchen counter of my old kitchen, inside which Rarity is making breakfast for me. There’s no breakfast for me though, and no one to help me. I have to make my own breakfast because Rarity is gone forever. And in fact, she never was. The only life in that kitchen is me, making my own breakfast. I don’t care what I eat, because it won’t help matters. Rarity calls out fondly to me from the other side, and I smile at her sadly. I know she isn’t real. She’s just my imagination, wishing that things could be good again.
But things wouldn’t be good again, and things were never good. Rarity was a wonderful, beautiful lie, and so was my life, and my adventure. And that is perfectly okay, because it’s normal. That’s just how life works. I walk into the living room, where the ponies are on the screen. It seems like they’re yelling at me, like they’re trying to reach me, but I know they’re not. Nobody is trying to reach me, because there is nobody out there. It’s just psychology. Nothing but silly illusions on colored screens. Touching my hoof to the dial, I turn off the screen, and my heart sinks as their happiness fades away to blackness. Just like they always do, after the story is over. Just like they always do, after you open your eyes.
I don’t care if my heart sinks though. It doesn’t matter. My heart isn’t real. It’s just another delusion, in a reality of dead chemicals and dry rocks floating in an endless space. I’m outside now, looking up at night, and the stars are gone. A few twinkle above me, but I can’t see them well, because my eyes are bad and can never be fixed again. I don’t like looking up at the stars because they’re as dead as I am. They seem like my best sister in the whole world, hugging me and tucking me in and giving me hope, but that’s just me lying to myself. The twinkles that rise such hope in my breast are just dead balls of gas and plasma, against which I would be smaller than the smallest speck, before I died a horrible death from the power of their radiation.
I go inside again, not wanting to be with the uncaring stars that would kill me if not for the unimaginable distance between us, which will also kill me. I’m inside a stable, where the other horses are milling around, back at that summer camp where I learned to ride, and learned that I cannot ride a galloping horse. The queen is off in the isolation pen. I lean on the fence of the pen, looking in at Rarity, worriedly. She’s sick in the stomach, which means she’s probably going to die, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. It happens all the time. They weaken and die, and there’s nothing you can do to save them, or yourself.
Rarity is behind me in my house, but when I lift off the fence to turn and see her, she’s gone. My friends are there, waiting to play with me, but it’s too late, and they’re gone too. I don’t have any friends because I’m not worth making friends with, because everybody has to fight their whole lives doing terrible things just to survive, and it’s good that they ignore me, and leave me to die, because that means they can focus on fighting, and live another day at terrible cost to others. The town is gone, with its happy train, leaving only the city, the rows of dead buildings, the streets full of dead cars.
I look down at the picture on the crafts table I’ve made of me and Rarity. We love each other so much. Tears run down my eyes forgotten, as I wipe my hoof over it again and again, covering up the childlike crayon drawing in black smears. There is no love, there is no Rarity, there is no me. There is nothing left but a profound sadness, the lack of happiness and hope, the utter screaming emptiness of the hollow loss of anything and everything, forever.
In a dark bedroom, in the middle of the night, Princess Selena Luna of the Moonlight Glow, Arbiter of the Changing Tides, woke up in a cold sweat.
I wake up peacefully, surrounded by warmth and soft breathing. The sunlight is gently streaming in over the lavender shades of the room. My legs are all tangled up in that of a much larger pony’s. Rarity’s. Her forelimbs are wrapped around me protectively, securely, like she fell asleep while hugging me. Like she–
My ears go down, as I remember that she did. That she had to. That I... I try not to whimper, and just pull her even tighter against me, wishing that I could get through just one night in this sordid affair, without a fit of incoherent screaming.
I mean, I wasn’t screaming incoherently. I was screaming very coherently. I couldn’t walk, you see. I’d– I’d fallen out of bed trying to reach her, and I couldn’t even gather my wits about me enough to crawl, lying there all alone in the darkness with not a single sound outside. I couldn’t stop the feeling that I was all alone in the world, that every pony and person had just disappeared and I’d be stuck here all by myself for the rest of my life, left behind.
So naturally I had to see her, just to be sure she was still there, but I couldn’t make it to her room on my own. I was too terribly slow, so I called out for her help. But my cries got even more and more shrill and panicked when she didn’t answer and... I shouldn’t have expected her to answer in seconds, that was just silly of me, but she didn’t, and I didn’t think she ever was going to, because she was gone.
When Rarity burst into my room and took me in a flying tackle, declaring she was going to save me, I just kept on crying and couldn’t stop. I felt so horribly guilty about scaring her over nothing. She thought there was something really attacking me, and it was just me whining like a little kid who was scared over a little dream and wants her mommy. Why was I so scared? It was just a dream. I have dreams like that all the time, so why would they be bothering me now? They’re not even real fears anymore, just echoes of a nightmare I could not wake up from. I once thought it was, but now that I’ve entered a magical world of ponies, I know it’s not. So why am I so scared?
I just told her I didn’t want to go back again, over and over again. I didn’t care if she figured it out. I didn’t care that she had no idea what I meant. She never asked me what I meant; she just held me, and cried with me until I once again fell asleep.
At least I don’t feel as scared, anymore. Not with the morning light shining in my eyes. Not with her holding me tight. I still feel shaken, but no more dreams came to me after Rarity rocked me to sleep, right there on the floor of my new bedroom. This is how I wake up, with my left side stiff from lying against the flat floor, but the rest of me shielded by Rarity, who no doubt bears the brunt of this uncouth sleeping method. And everything is fine. Everything is okay. I really did wake up. I woke up to the morning light of a magical land, one that I could really live in, instead of just unbeing dead.
So, here I am in the wonderful light of morning and life, and the nightmare is over. I feel like crying again, because everything is okay. And... because of my nightmare, Rarity is surely getting stiff and sore sleeping like this. Not to mention my hind leg precariously braced on her broad white thigh... if I slipped, it could end up somewhere very intimate between her broad white thighs. I ...recall what I was doing to myself last night, before going to sleep. I...
I think it’s time to wake up Rarity, and not be so close to each other anymore.
“Rarity,” I whisper, nudging her chest with a hoof. Her chest entirely lacking mammaries I might add, making it an entirely innocent gesture. “Rarity!” I whisper a little harsher, pushing on her shoulder trying to rock the larger pony back and forth. “Rarityyyy...” I utter quietly.
To Rarity’s credit, she does rouse, unlike that sack of bricks known as Apple Bloom. She murmurs uncomfortably, then slides her eyes open, then smiles a small smile at me looking up from her chest. Her eyes are still huge in my vision but... I think I’m actually starting to get used to it. It’s a lot better than when she’s angry with me. A lot better. Her smile falls then and her eyes widen fully, and she says,
“Oh! Sweetie, are you alright?”
“I’m much better now, thank you,” I say, nosing lightly at her flowry chest fur. I wonder if it would be appropriate to rub my cheek in it, as a sign of affection? It would probably not be appropriate to bury my face in it, and go mmmmm. I just settle for smiling at her, and snugging her hoof with the ones I have hooked over it.
“That is such a relief,” she says her chest moving against me with a sigh. Rarity looks pensive then, saying “Em...”
“Could you help me up?” I ask her. “It must be really stiff lying like this.”
“Oh I’m fine, dear,” Rarity lies gently, “I would be happy to help you up. Look, the sun has risen! We can surely get you more than up with the aid of those therapy professionals.” She helps me out of being tangled in her hooves, though I just lie on the floor on my belly for now while she rights herself and stands, stretching her opposite legs each two at a time, wincing at what clearly must be stiffness.
“Aren’t you excited for that?” she asks, and I nod agreeably. I would prefer to save Sweetie Belle, but if learning how to walk in her body is part of that then I would really appreciate it. “And see,” Rarity adds a bit smugly, tossing her slightly dissheveled mane with a hoof, “I told you that you would drift right off to...”
She stops then, a bit unsettled, and looks at me.
“It was a really bad nightmare, then?” she asks me unhappily.
“No, it wasn’t that bad,” I say honestly, because it wasn’t or at least it shouldn’t have been, but, “I don’t know why it scared me so much. It was just one of those things, I guess.”
Rarity murmurs dissatisfiedly, but agrees with me saying, “One of those things, yes. Indeed. Well alright, then. Wait right there while I prepare us some breakfast. The hospital should be open for business by the time the sun hits ten or so.”
I’d shrug helplessly at her request to “wait right there” from down here on the floor, but my forearms are currently bracing me up, so my shoulders are quite busy at the moment. Rarity canters off, while I take a longing look at one of the discarded pillows on the floor. I can’t quite reach it. Maybe if I flop on my back, then I could... ehn... almost... yes, got it! Oh... right, I don’t have hands. After slapping the pillow even further away from me, with a clumsy hoof, I groan in frustration and just settle onto my back without a pillow to lean on.
It occurs to me what I was doing last night.
Against my better judgement, I glance nervously at the open doorway, out which the white unicorn left me be totally alone. I can already hear the sounds of her clinking around and pleasant humming drifting up from downstairs. She could return at any minute. Maybe... I should... just practice standing, instead. I manage to roll onto my belly which, though while it makes my ‘special place’ even more likely to smush up against something, it paradoxically makes me feel less... not less aroused, so much as less exposed. Untangling my legs, and situating them on either side of me, I achieve a relatively normal looking sitting posture. At least I’m pretty sure it’s normal looking.
It’s kind of cool to sit like a horse. Like a pony might be more apt, because horses don’t really enjoy sitting. I heard they get more tired doing so, than when they’re standing up. It doesn’t bother me though, and is actually quite comfortable. My belly is pressed on the ground, but with my head up in the air and my chest exposed, I don’t have any difficulty breathing.
Ponies from the show have a lot of little subtle advantages over real horses if you know what to look for... or if you transform into one of them and get a chance to experiment with their body. I can lift my neck a lot straighter than a horse, for instance, and the whole periscoping around thing... horses actually have to curve around their entire neck to look at their behind. They can’t just swivel their head to do so. Only reason they can see behind them at all, is because their eyes are on the side of their head. You could say a pony’s eyes are on the side of their head, but they’re so huge they’re sort of... also on the front of their head.
I lift a hoof, to press the soft part against my nose. My nostrils are farther out in front of my face than I’m used to, of course. But feeling alongside, there’s just a smooth transition from my snout to my cheek. In fact, my cheeks would be kind of... sideways facing, not facing forward. It’s not like taking a sphere and slapping a horse nose onto it, but more like pulling such a nose out of it, with the sphere distorting slightly all over, leaving no edges to form. Though I do have a definite bridge or ‘edge’ to my muzzle, where it curves up sharply between my eyes. So perhaps it’s more like if you pull the nose out, while pressing the forehead in with a flat palm and... well, I guess I’d have to look in a mirror to really figure out how my face works.
You know, I haven’t seen a mirror yet. Wasn’t there a mirror in the bathroom? There was, wasn’t there? Right over the sink. Was I just not paying attention when I spat out my–oh right, she had the medicine cabinet open. That was where she keeps the toothpaste, as well as a number of bottles that... I didn’t pay attention to. Is there some reason they wouldn’t let me look in the mirror? Maybe there’s a conspiracy? Maybe my face is weird and mutated, and nobody wants me to know?
Maybe I’m just being stupid. It’s probably just a coincidence. Still, I can’t help but really want to look in the mirror, if for no other reason than to see Sweetie Belle looking back. I turn my head to look at my chest of drawers in a new light, because on top of it, backing it from behind, is a large mirror, whose wooden frame is painted with pretty pink hearts. If I could get over there, then I could definitely see myself! And the doctor said nothing was strange, so it’s not like there would be any unpleasant surprises, right? As long as I’m stuck in Sweetie Belle’s body, it means I have the power to make her pose in the mirror, any time I wanted to! That sounded less weird in my head. Wait, isn’t all of this in my head?
I look at my forelimbs then, trying to recall what Scootaloo taught me, I lunge back– uh... oh, right. With only a small episode of useless rocking, I manage to get my front feet down, toe-first, and my back feet follow to lift me up in the air. My tail is actually kind of sluggish to raise, and the reason for that becomes clear, with the yawn that stretches through me. I’m just still kind of tired. Oh, then the other reason chooses to announce itself to me. I immediately clench down tighter than an engine bolt, my tail going down in a panic. I feel like I clenched ...more than just my pee place, just now. No, no, not thinking about that. I’m just trying to use the mirror. Just the mirror. The nice innocent mirror that I could see my own ass in but no, just my face, in the mirror! Face. Mirror. I face forward to look at the mirror, and decidedly not look at my own pink-and-purple-tail-supporting ass.
I raise my tail again very gingerly, and the feeling ...announces itself, but nothing... happens. I think I’m alright, for now. I will visit the bathroom at the nearest opportunity though. I am not going to deal with the consequences of refusing a call to nature. Not after the last time. I don’t get any farther than standing there, looking over at the mirror, when Rarity comes up the stairs again, announcing, “Alright Sweetie, breakfast is ready!”
She pauses at the door way, at the sight of me standing there. With a bright smile she says, “Oh! You’re... doing something? Is there anything I can assist you with?”
“I was just trying to um, walk,” I say squirmily, “Over to the—my mirror, because... to... just make sure my hair is brushed good.”
“Oh Sweetie, don’t be silly!” Rarity titters at me, “I’ll be happy to brush your hair for you. That is an excellent idea, however. You can bring your hairbrush with you to the therapist, and perhaps they can use it to help you remember!”
I smile at her amiably as she levitates a brush that’s lying on the dresser, my brush presumably, especially with the pink and purple colored hairs stuck in it. She brings it down upon my head. She sure is– wait. Was Rarity teasing me just now, for not brushing my own hair? I make a last minute effort to grab the floating thing, but she weaves it out of the way in her magic, and I just settle on my haunches, letting her brush out my soft tresses. I might have felt guilty, or outraged about... something about her actions, if it didn’t feel so very good to be brushed.
Pony hair, it... it’s almost incapable of tangling. It’s like a sick joke on the figurines you can buy. A pony’s hair, a real pony at any rate, will—okay, I have officially been here too long. A real Equestrian pony’s hair will keep its shape, under all but the most extreme circumstances. There are ways to style it, as Rarity for instance has hair naturally not quite as curly as Pinkie Pie’s, but straightens it with a flat iron in the morning. But when it comes to brushing and tangles, this hair just doesn’t catch on itself, like the scaly mammalian hair I’m familiar with. So without any painful tangles, brushing one’s hair is a purely pleasurable experience, and having one’s hair brushed by another is simply sublime!
...football.
So Rarity brushes out my hair, and then helps me over to the mirror. I can manage a sort of wobbly walk, with her to lean against. It’s only a few steps anyway, and she only has to pick me up... once. We get to the mirror, and I clamber up on the stool and brace my front hooves on the dresser, and— well, I mean, you can imagine it, can’t you? Standing there on all fours, braced up on the dresser and looking into a mirror in which...
There’s a little filly in the mirror, looking back at me. Is that really ...me? She looks shocked, an understandable way to feel. I look at her and we breathe together, and move together, and it’s really my reflection. I look like this. How am I... how can this be true? With a tap of nail on glass, my hoof contacts the mirror and, I can come no closer than that to touching the filly on the other side. The filly that everyone sees, when they look at me. The filly who I am now.
A pair of conical candy white ears protrude out from a nest of soft, bouncy curls, in shades of lavender and pink. Even still as a ghost, those curls look like they dance playfully around a soft white horn emerging from my forehead. The muzzle on my face, while very present, looks rounded and blunt. And my eyes, the eyes I’ve been seeing with all this time, my eyes are limpid pools of blackness, in which I can see the reflection of the sunlit window behind me. Pupils surrounded with eerie green irises, a green that would look at home with the lichen living upon an aged tree. It’s the rust on a penny, that peculiar color that doesn’t match the yellow green of photosynthesis.
And as I watch the pupils adjust to my mood, in the reflection in front of me, I can feel them doing so. It’s so weird when I pay attention to it, that I can feel my contracting and dilating pupils—er, no not quite pupils, because the iris is contracting and dilating too. But I can feel it happen! It’s weird, like ghostly tension in my eyes. I guess with the size of our eyes it makes sense it would be felt more strongly. How do these eyes do that though?
“Are you alright, Sweetie?” Rarity asks with concern, breaking my intense concentration. I turn to her, with so many conflicting feelings welling up in me, saying,
“I’m fine, yes. I’m... okay.” My lower lip is tense; I hope I’m not going to start crying again. Why would I be crying, when I feel so happy? I stop talking, for fear of what sounds may come out of me, and turn back to the mirror. It’s a second shock to see her in there, moving every which way that I do, with her lower mane curling down around her neck. I lean heavily on my right shoulder, so I can pretend to casually inspect the hair falling to the left of my neck. A careless toss with my hoof makes it fall onto the right side, coming around to the right of me. That’s kind of what keeps me grounded, is how silly it is that my hair likes to flop around over a shoulder, and isn’t picky about which shoulder, yet won’t stay all the way behind me.
“Shall I leave you be, then?” Rarity asks. “While your attention to beauty is admirable, our breakfast isn’t getting any warmer, you know.”
“No, I’m done,” I say, feeling a bit dazed from seeing myself like this. I, and my new reflection pull away from each other, and I smile bashfully at Rarity saying, “Sorry. I think I might have gotten a little carried away there. My mane looks... I really like it. You did a good job, thanks.”
I pause again, saying hesitantly, “Um, a little help getting to the kitchen would be nice.”
Rarity nods understandably and sits down beside me, letting me climb onto her back the sideways way, as if I was a human, and she were a horse that... chose to sit down for me to get on top of them. Once I’m situated on her back. I can’t help but notice when she rises she also jumps to get her forelegs under her, but pulls it off very fluidly and not jerkily at all. “Ready for breakfast, then?” she says pleasantly.
“Am I ever!” I answer honestly, adding as a hasty afterthought, “Oh! Uhh, I need to use the bathroom, and I don’t want to wait in case, um... yeah....”
Is it possible for a white unicorn to blanch? I probably should have mentioned that I needed to go, before I was on her back, with my innocent little slit tactically poised to erupt all over her rear end. “I can hold it!” I assure her frantically. “I just need to sometime, when it’s okay. I didn’t mean– don’t worry I would never”
“Quite alright, darling,” Rarity says neutrally, barely even twitching underneath me. “Just be sure that you stay on top of this sort of thing, until you’re able to walk to the toilet on your own.”
“I will be so on top of it,” I assure her. That satisfies Rarity, and she walks me to the toilet room, which as mentioned has no bathtub in it. Both toilet and bath rooms are upstairs, making me wonder what the plumbing is like in this place. Rarity lets me slip off her again, and I almost manage to remain standing this time. I think I might really be getting the hang of how to fall off a horse!
I pick myself up, and she spots for me like Applejack did. It’s... a lot easier to remain standing, now that my tail is up, with no moving train underneath me, the protests of my bladder nonwithstanding. I manage to sort of waddle drunkenly the few steps it takes to get poised over the toilet. My legs are too far on either side, but I’m not going to accidentally step in that toilet bowl, come hell or high water.
Rarity leaves me then, pausing at the door to say, “Just let me know when you’re finished, dear. I’ll be right outside.” And once again I’m alone in the bathtoilet room. This one smells a lot better, probably because the waste goes down a drain instead of just into a pit underneath. There’s still a slight hint of urine, but nothing unexpected. Scratch that, the smell of urine gets much stronger when I actually do start peeing.
With my tail up, it’s ridiculously easy to do it, I just press down slightly and then I feel it flooding my uh... y’know, and the sound of it hitting the toilet bowl. And, for some reason, the feel of my filly parts isn’t as troubling this time. I sure as hell were “feeling” them last night! It’s nice actually: I don’t even have to practically do kegels to make sure all the piss is out, since I don’t have any of that penis tubing for it to linger in, though afterwards I am dripping rather uncouthly from my ‘petals’ as it were. It seems like it’s a lot easier to pee as a female, or at least as a pony female. Too easy, in fact. But having done so, I at least feel assured there won’t be any unexpected accidents now.
I call Rarity when I’m done, and she immediately wrinkles her nose on her way in, saying, “I don’t suppose you can wipe yourself on your own, can you?” I turn to face her, blink, and then blush in realization. Jeez, I totally fucked up there. Why did I call her in before thinking to wipe myself?
“I... um, yeah I can. I just... hold on.” I stutter, fumbling clumsily with the roll of toilet paper to my right, mounted on a golden wire stand. Again, I don’t know how to hold onto it. Best I can do is pin the toilet paper between my forehoof and upper arm, trying to tear off a big enough piece that I can dangle it securely over my own hoof.
Rarity groans in exasperation, and her magic vibrates next to me, neatly snipping out two squares, of the toilet paper monstrosity I’ve been building in my hooves. “It’s less trouble this way honestly,” she says, dipping it into my vulval lips and swiping it front to back, “And I would much prefer that you not waste so much toilet paper.”
I would answer her, but I’m too busy dealing with the feeling of someone else touching me down there. It’s a lot different when you’re not the one controlling what you feel contact your parts. That felt... way too good. I want her to touch me more there, even though I know I shouldn’t. Did she have to use soft, double ply, pleated toilet paper? Did her magic have to tingle so much? The toilet flushes with water, and I similarly collect my wits. I close my eyes, saying in a professional manner with a hoof on my chest,
“Thank you, sister. I shall try to not waste so much in the future. Hopefully you willwon’t have to do this much more.”
“You’ll only have to put up with this a short while longer, I’m sure,” Rarity tells me apologetically, but she just has nothing to apologize for. She’s being the greatest sisthost that she could possibly be!
“It’s no problem, really,” I assure her, and she looks like she justifiably doesn’t believe me, so I add, “Thanks so much for all your help.”
“Well, if there’s nothing else,” she says undecidedly, but more cheerfully, presenting her side to me and laying down, then finishing with, “There’s some breakfast downstairs with your name on it!”
I smile at her, full of genuinely honest gratitude at her... generosity.
It’s easier to try to treat this constant back riding more like a big long tender hug, rather than a service she’s performing. It... sort of helps. I certainly hug her tighter, when we go headfirst down the stairs! The stairs descend to a curving hallway around behind her display room, where Rarity walks into the house portion of the downstairs boutique. It has a rather large kitchen, in which I can see the very same table that Rarity’s parents were sitting at when they surprised her with... me. With Sweetie Belle.
I really should ask about them. They haven’t even been notified yet, have they? I don’t recall even seeing them. But for now, I clamber off of Rarity and pull myself up to the table. Again, it’s blessedly low to the ground, so I barely have to stand to see the plates placed upon it. I wasn’t expecting anything elaborate, certainly, but it’s what amounts to an ordinary plate of two pieces of bread, toasted golden, and two slices of apple.
No, make that one piece of toasted bread. Rarity’s plate has two. And a nice tall cup of what looks and smells like orange juice. Oh great, a cup.
The bread is cold but tasty, even if I do have to eat it with my face. Just enough butter not to make it soggy, with a bare hint of salt but not overpowering. Rarity lends her touch to everything she does, it seems. The bread itself is hearty and... sort of meaty somehow. Lots of gluten I guess? The apple slices are especially good. They have a tartness that normally you would find in an underripe apple, but their flavor is rich and full, and their peachy white flesh practically bleeds juice when I bite down on it. I wonder where she got apples, that are this... wait.
I have a coughing fit from inhaling some juicy apple flesh. Rarity jumps up, but I hold a hoof out trying to wave her away. After I can breath again, I say “Sorry,” a bit hoarsely. “Inhaled some apple juice.”
Rarity relaxes and smiles, saying, “Sorry dear, I am just so jumpy about the slightest little thing since all of this occurred. Are you quite sure you’re alright?”
I respond with a question, trying not to smile from ear to ear when I ask, “Are these apples from Applejack’s orchard?”
“Well of course they are,” Rarity says with a hair toss, “Even if her family didn’t provide all the apples for Ponyville, she’s a family friend, and I would never think about shopping anywhere else!”
“I really li҉ke them!” I say totally calmly and suavely dammit I squeaked again, didn’t I. I’m trying desperately not to lose my footing here, from wanting to just wiggle my legs under me like there was no tomorrow.
“They’re a tad underripe this time of year,” she says in an unimpressed tone, “But I’ve been waiting all year to get a taste of the crop, and I’m happy to have gotten my hooves on some of the early harvest.”
I remain rapt in attention, but she doesn’t choose to qualify her situation any more, merely going back to taking delicate bites out of the slice of bread floating before her. It’s so cool how she can just eat like that. I wonder if magic tastes like anything. I dawdle on my remaining apple slice to watch her eating, curious why it seems so... unfamiliar to me. I’ve seen Rarity eating countless times in the show, right? This seems different somehow though.
I try to recall her eating before to compare, but nothing in particular comes to mind. It’s sad too, because she really does manage to eat like a lady. While I’m a snorting piggy over here with my face in the plate, she’s daubing her lips confidently with a napkin. I don’t really mind being a snorting piggy, it’s kind of funny actually, and a lot less stressful than feeling beautiful, but I also really like how beautiful Rarity looks, even when she is doing something as simple as eating toast for breakfast.
“Is there something on my face, darling?” the object of beauty speaks to me. I blink and shake my head, glancing down at my plate nervously, no longer staring at Rarity. Carefully I take the last slice of apple in my teeth, slicing a bite out of it and enjoying another mouthful of 100% genuine accept-no-imitations Sweet Apple Acres apple, fresh off the tree. And Rarity goes back to eating, totally unconcerned.
There’s a knock at the door. It’s not the front door, way off forward in the display area, but the door just over there, through what looks like some kind of laundry room.
“Just a minute~” Rarity says, standing up from the breakfast table and walking off into the next room. I look after her nervously, and it turns out I don’t have to be nervous, because upon opening the door she says, “Oh, hello Scootaloo. Apple Bloom.”
“Can Sweetie come and play?” my two friends call out in tandem. I guess they forgot I can’t walk.
“Regretfully no,” Rarity says down to them. “We are going to be very busy today, helping Sweetie relearn how to walk.”
“Busy?” comes Scootaloo’s voice, “But it’s summer!”
“That being said,” Rarity offers confidently, “You can’t be expecting Sweetie Belle to watch you two play all day, to haul Sweetie Belle around all day like she were a toy doll. She needs to get back on her feet first, so that she can run with you!”
“Sorry, Miss Rarity,” Apple Bloom says abashedly. “Guess we kinda got ahead of ourselves there.”
“So long as you do not get ahead of yourselves all the way to the Badlands, you two remain wonderful fillies, and good friends to Sweetie Belle for thinking of her,” Rarity says warmly, adding in a dismissive tone, “Now run along now. You two will have to make do with each other for now, but I promise Sweetie will be together with you as soon as she is able.”
“Bye Rarity!” the two of them shout, running off as she closes the back door. A stab of disappointment goes through me as she does so. I really wanted to go out and... wait, no I didn’t. I really do want to go out and play with them, but I hadn’t even been thinking of it up to this point. There’s an important distinction there. Okay, not really.
Either way, I really want my walking to get better and my not-getting-sent-to-the-shadow-realm to happen. I’ve got to get to the library somehow, and to do that effectively, I’m going to need to be able to walk again, and once everything is settled there, then I can go outside and play with my friends yay! ...her friends. With her friends.
Maybe I’ll get another body like hers, and we can all play together. I guess it’s kind of... stupid that I want to play with those foals, but... but I still want to! Why is it so important for me to act my age? I don’t even remember what it’s like to play as a child, aside from what I’ve been doing since I got here. Shouldn’t it bother me to play? But, I just can’t seem to think of why it would be bad.
Oh, well there is the whole sexual thing.
Was I really trying to masturbate last night? Is that really something I did? I didn’t want to, but it was just so hard to resist the temptation, and I have the willpower of a guppy. Even now, I’m sort of giddy at the thought that, not only did I touch myself down there, but it felt good. When I remember how it feels to touch them, I don’t feel so uncomfortable with having girl parts anymore. I wonder if I...
I wonder if I could get away with doing it again.
The only thing, the only thing that really bothers me about this, is that this body might not even belong to me. If only I had my own Sweetie Belle body, and she didn’t have to deal with any sort of trouble that I got into! That would be... just perfect, actually. I wonder if there are any spells about making clones of yourself. Maybe they’d like, die after a week or something stupid like that. But maybe not? I definitely have to get to the library.
I wrap both hooves around the glass of orange juice and carefully slide it over to me. Ugh, why does Rarity have a tablecloth? Those are hard to slide things. Oop–oh good caught it. Oh shoot a bit splashed out. Wait–hold on. Almost, no I can’t tip it that way or it’ll– Jesus Christ. Am I going to drink this orange juice or not?!
“Erm, you can bite the rim,” Rarity says, hovering behind and above my angry form, as I find myself hunched over the orange juice glass like an angry vulture. “Then tilt it up to allow juice into your mouth.”
Right, we’ll just chalk that up to my legitimate amnesia, since I should have remembered that’s how every pony without a horn drinks stuff from a cup. Biting on the rim of the glass and lifting it, I only get a face full of orange juice once, before getting the hang of it! And with that, breakfast passes with nice even sips of orange juice, and without further incident.
Rarity alights her horn and her magic seeks out some saddlebags which wreathed in her glow come floating out from where they were kept, and descend neatly on her back. I notice she even uses her magic to thread the strap through the buckle, but then cranes her neck down to bite it, pulling it tense with her teeth. These are the diamond patterned bags that she wore to the Badlands, and the ones I’ve seen her with in the show. With only their flaps glowing and held open, she starts floating various and sundry into their square contents. Ribbons, thread for some reason, a powder puff with that makeup dust stuff and a tube of dark red–oh my. I hadn’t even noticed she wore lipstick. Did she? She did, right?
Uh, right, water bottle, scissors, a coin purse, I kind of miss the rest. And finally a broad straw sun hat to settle onto her head, with a ribbon on top styled to look like a flower in the color of her mane. So prepared, she saunters over to me, settling down so that I can once again climb on top of her. And like that, we travel outside into a world full of ponies. ...not many ponies, because it’s still pretty early in the morning. A bit chilly out, but I stop shivering relatively quickly.
Ironically, paying attention to my squishy little vulva last night seems to help me ignore my squishy little vulva today, while riding around on top of Rarity for instance. It’s not just that I’m feeling less afraid of it, but, I’m starting to feel like it’s supposed to feel the way it does. My tail isn’t even flat against my rump, when we walk out of the boutique, and as the other ponies walk around without a care in the world, it makes me feel like I don’t need to have have a care in the world, at least not about showing off what’s between my legs. Not that I want to stick it in anyone’s face, but... I could really get used to this whole nudism thing. Maybe one day, I’ll even be able to think about it outside of a sexual context, and can just relax and ignore those body parts like everyone, or, everypony else does.
I swear I recognize some of the ponies walking around in the early-ish morning, but it’s hard to say for sure, since the show didn’t make them look so... distinctive. It’s hard to say who’s the real Bon-Bon, or if that mare over there is Trix–oops, no it’s a pegasus. They all look similar, but more distinct than in the show, and it’s hard to tell which distinction is the official one. That one over there for instance has more casual cascading curls, while that one over there has stiffly prim curls, both in the pink and blue color of Bon-Bon, and only one of them has a triple candy cutie mark. The other having some sort of umbrella in the shade of her mane. But some ponies who look nothing like Bon-Bon have a triple candy cutie mark. I uh...
I wonder how unique one’s special talent is, when you take into account background ponies many of which share the exact same cutie mark. Is it just you get one from a preset list, and interpret it to your own personal circumstances, like an astrological sign? How do they explain ponies with unique cutie marks then, like the main characters? Chosen ones? I wonder if I would get a preset cutie mark or a special one. Wouldn’t both mean I was special? I really want to know what picture would appear on my hindquarters. Unironically.
It is kind of embarassing some of the looks ponies give me, but it’s clearly more about how I’m riding around on Rarity’s back, than anything about my nether regions. I’m just lucky Rarity doesn’t have a baby bassinet to dump me in. I can hold my head high though, with the knowledge that I have one thing that babies do not, which I will fight to preserve more than anything else in this precious world: control over my bladder.
The hospital is as I remember it, thankfully this time with a much lesser degree of panicked anxiety. I don’t think I could get anxious anymore at this point. I’ve dodged so many bullets in this fiasco, that I feel like putting on some sunglasses and swinging around a lamp post. My anxiety bone is just exhausted.
I don’t get off of Rarity in the reception area, because in a few minutes we’re called back to meet with a physical therapist, who is ostensibly called Ace something. I try to remember if I ever heard of a background pony named Ace before. Lemon Ace? Rose Ace? We walk into his office. We walk into his office. Oh no.
Curse you, mutton chops. Why must you torment me with your dead sexiness!
“Hi there, little lady!” he says in a slight Louisiana twang, sauntering up as Rarity walks in the room. “I’m Dr. Ace, of Hearts, but you can call me Ace. I hear you’ve been having trouble walking.” He’s a broad, powerful looking stallion with tan fur, especially thick on his chest, and luscious wavy brown hair on his mane and tail and... moustache.
“Hmhmm,” Rarity says in a pleased tone, “Dr. Care didn’t mention that such a stallion would be taking care of Sweetie Belle today.”
“Oh don’t worry,” Dr. Ace said with a twinkle in his eye, “I may be a stallion, but I am fully familiar with all aspects of a mare’s physiology.”
“I’m sure you are,” Rarity says in a tone of wanton indulgence, her hips swaying slightly underneath me. In the span of mere seconds, I’ve gone from gazing slack jawed at the man horse in his cozy little office, all dressed up with trophies and portraits of tennis matches, to fishmouthing unbelievingly at my sister. My communication skills are sub-par at this moment. I think my brain has broken.
“Sweetie Belle here is having trouble walking,” Rarity says, as though she hadn’t just practically announced her intent to fuck this stallion right here in front of me. “And also ehm... the pad of her hoof isn’t engaging, for whatever reason.”
“Well, that’s no good!” he exclaims. Then he walks up to us and I look at him like the proverbial deer in headlights as he leans over to me and saying, “You alright there, lil’ Sweetie?”
“I’m,” I say in a whisper, unable to put any breath behind my words, trying to hide myself in Rarity’s mane. “Fine...”
“Well,” he says, turning to look at Rarity levelly, continuing in his jovial tone, “I think your little sister here has got a case of the shys!”
“Oh, you know how little fillies can be,” Rarity says waving a hoof in the air, “She has a ways to go before she can consider herself mature, and ...experienced.”
“Her sister certainly sets a good example for her,” he says smoothly to Rarity, with another wink. Rarity titters at that, turning her head and blushing behind her hoof. Help.
“If you are nearly as good at your expertise as you are at flattery,” Rarity blatantly compliments him, “Then I’m sure Sweetie Belle will be better in no time!”
“My medical expertise says that there’s only one cure for shyness,” he points out, sticking a hoof at Rarity. “Familiarity!” he concludes, as Rarity touches her hoof to his, shaking it delicately. “So let’s review her case then, take it easy before we jump into anything.”
He comes up to me again and says, “Okay lil’ Sweetie, I’m going to need you to look at me and just try to relax. You don’t have to say anything, just pay attention to what I have to say, and let your worries be what they may.” I obediently don’t say anything, and he backs up, gesturing Rarity towards a nice comfy black couch in his office. She goes there, and tilts her rear end in a way that slides me right off like a stick of butter on a frying pan, thumping onto the couch. Then, she settles onto the couch herself, sitting close to me as I try to orient myself to match her belly-sitting position.
“So,” Dr. Ace begins his review, holding up my chart in a hoof of his. “Mixed up motor complex, trouble walking, retarded tail motion. No nerve damage detected, so she should be pretty quick to recover. It doesn’t say anything about her pads, though?” he prompts Rarity.
Rarity nods and says somewhat apologetically, “It never came up, I’m afraid. But since her accident, she has had to hook-hoof most things to perform simple manipulation.”
“Wow, that is something,” Dr. Ace says, grabbing a pencil in his mouth to write it down. “Don’t worry though,” he says easily around the pencil, “I know a couple tricks which just might help with that.”
“That would be splendid!” Rarity says delightedly. I’m watching him, still too gobsmacked to say anything, while he stands his athletically toned frame there, and speaks to both of us.
“What I have planned for today is pretty simple. Want to see how you’re moving already, see if it gives me any insight into what’s going on. You’re just going to try to walk a little, see what happens when you’re running around. Then I can give you pointers and you’re gonna try them out, and if they work then great! And if they don’t, then that’s one less thing wrong with you, and we can narrow it down over the course of the day.”
“I don’t know much about fancy magic and ancient curses,” he admits sheepishly, “But if you just need to get your hooves under you again, I’m pretty sure I can help you out!”
Rarity stands up from the couch saying, “That sounds like a splendid plan! What do you think, Sweetie? Are you up for a little walking around?”
“I suppose,” I say reluctantly. “I mean, it’s what we’re here for. I mean, I want it, I mean there’s nothing wrong with him. I mean. Um.” Shutting up now.
“Just give me a chance,” he insists to me, drawing my attention away from Rarity, “You won’t regret it! I can’t promise it’ll be easy, but I can tell you it’s gonna be fun!”
I have absolutely no reason to be worried about Dr. Ace having ‘fun’ with me. He’s just talking about a normal, innocent, kiddie fun, because I’m a kid and he’s a big, strong... attractive stallion. I mean, but, look at him! His freaking chest hair... I sure wouldn’t mind having a little fun, not with someone like... no, no, see that’s exactly what I should not be thinking. I’m here to walk. Walking. With my feet.
I hope I’m not going to be spending the entire session denying some supernaturally exacerbated urges for me to breed with this stallion. C’mon, girls interact with stallions all the time, without this sort of shit cropping up. I can deal with him. He’s just a pony, like any other person, and I don’t have to obsess over how I can see, in plain sight, his dangling...
Oh. He’s wearing shorts. That makes it easier.
“Okay,” I say shoring up my jaw determinedly. It’s not very effective. “When do we start?”
“Right away,” Dr. Ace answers with a confident smile, “We’ll take you to the gym for starters, and then we can probably take it outside. It’s such a nice day!” He nods at Rarity, saying, “So if you’ll let your sister take her leave, well I think we can get started.”
“Leave?!” I blurt, looking at Rarity with tense eyes.
“I understand you’ve been having ...issues, dear,” Rarity says uncomfortably, “But I’m late as-is opening my boutique, and you wouldn’t want me to leave my clientele any longer than necessary, would you?”
“But, but...” I stammer throwing a hoof in his direction, “With him?!”
“Something wrong with me?” Ace asks confusedly. I immediately blush. I forgot he was there. What am I even thinking?! I look at him–his hooves, at any rate.
“No,” I say docilely, to the very physical therapist, “Sorry I didn’t mean... um.”
“She’s been having some separation issues since the incident,” Rarity says to him fluidly. I frown at her. I have not! I just... oh, wow I kind of have, if you look at it that way.
“I can’t stay with you forever, Sweetie,” Rarity continues, turning to me while I look back at her guiltily, from my seat on the couch. “As much as you may prefer my company, this stallion has what you need right now, that I surely cannot provide.”
Oh, why did you have to put it like that?!
“I–I don’t mind...” but I mean, I don’t mind but, I should mind! I can’t just follow Rarity around all the time though. And that’d mean I could be even closer with him... no, no ejecting those thoughts immeditately. It wouldn’t be that bad though. He’s even wearing shorts!
...my god, ponies can wear pants.
“Just give it a try,” Rarity says to me soothingly, “And if you can’t manage it, we’ll work something else out.”
“I... I... uh...” I can’t think of any rational reason why not. “Okay...” I say in quiet acquiescence.
“Thank you so much, Sweetie,” she says kissing me, right of my horn again. “I will be here to pick you up later this afternoon. You can look forward to a nice tasty lunch prepared or perhaps purchased by yours truly!” I smile weakly at her as she walks out the door to the doctor’s office, closing it with a quiet click behind her.
I look at the doctor, and...........
“I’ve changed my mind,” I say hurriedly, struggling to my feet–augh this couch is too plush and I slip down again. Why do you have to feel everything that rubs against you when you’re naked? I try to stay still so the fabric of the couch doesn’t rub against my pony legs, and my broad round belly and even that smooshy little package that I shouldn’t be thinking about and rubbing right in the presence of—!
Okay, calm. Being calm. I can handle interacting with the world with every part of my body, and not just the little bits that stick out of clothing that I no longer own. I just have to never move a muscle again, and I won’t feel anything soft or sensuous, like my body pressing against this fluffy, lumpy couch.
Still blushing and hiding behind my hooves, I mumble “I mean, let’s just get started...”
The mentor is
Princess Ace.
