>The three of you sat down in a semicircle around the unconscious woman.
>The woman, Iris' mother, had been more than just surprised to see you as ponies.
>So now you waited there for her to wake up.
 
>"So why didn't you tell her to expect ponies?"
>"Because I didn't think about it?"
>Iris and Zee have been arguing since her mother was placed on the couch.
>With a sigh, you walk back to the kitchen to prepare something for the poor woman.
>A PB and J is gonna have to suffice.
>You skillfully (haha, sarcasm) spread the condiments onto the bread slices with your ever so dextrous hooves.
>The only other option being your mouth or calling for Iris' assistance, you think you chose correctly.
>Not that there's anything wrong with asking for help. You just wanted to do it yourself.
>And now you know that making pb&j sandwiches is within your (butterhooved) grasp.
>Hurray.
 
>You return with the plate in your mouth, and place it on a nearby coffee table.
"Alright, are you two done arguing yet?"
>"No."
>...
"Really?"
>"Nah, we're done. Dude, it took you like 5 minutes to make that sandwich. I was about to bet on how long it was going to take you."
"Gee, thanks. Well, do we have our questions and conversational points ready? Because it looks like she's coming to."
>Richie stifles a laugh.
"Wait, what are you laughing at?"
>"Nothin."
>...
>"Pshhhahahaha!"
>A groan escapes Mrs. Rogers' lips and she begins to shift.
>Iris shushes Richie and turns expectantly towards her mother.
>"Tom...Tom I had the strangest dream...little...horses were there..."
>She opens her eyes at last, eyes flitting between the three of you.
>"Wh-what?"
>"Hey mom. I told you something happened."
>Together, you and Richie mumble a "Hello Mrs Rogers" and force a smile.
>She, eyes twitching, returns the smile, slowly rises from the chair, and begins to back away.
>Iris bounds to her and wraps her forehooves around her mother's legs.
>"No, mom, please! We need your help! We can't go outside like this...please stay."
>She stops.
>"What...happened to you, Tom?"
>She kneels down to her once-son.
>"It's complicated, mom. Please, will you stay and help?"
>She runs her hand down Iris' mane and neck, then back up to hold her cheek.
>"Of course, why wouldn't I help my son?"
>Rich taps you once.
>You turn to see, and he's pointing a hoof down his throat, tongue sticking out.
>He then conspiratorially whispers to you.
>"It's like a bad Disney movie in here! Let's hurry this up already."
>You chuckle, and look back to Iris to find her and her mom in a tight hug.
"Hey, you hear Richie? You're giving him a feel he doesn't want."
>You receive a hoof to the shoulder...withers...whatever they are in return.
>You inwardly chuckle again and marvel how it made a loud enough noise, but it didn't hurt you.
>Earth pony toughness, you guess.
>In any case, soon the woman and mare separate, and Mrs Rogers takes a seat and begins to eat the sandwich.
>Good. Fricking thing took forever. SOMEBODY is going to eat it.
>As she eats the sandwich, Iris begins to ring her mother up to speed, starting with the show's existence, and ending with...
>"...and then by that time he returned, I was fully a unicorn! And here we are, the very next day."
>Well, of course she wouldn't mention THAT.
>Really though, how would you bring that up? Hi mom, I'm a girl and I gave my virginity up to one of my friends over there in a bout of ponylust.
>You shudder at the thought of ever bringing that up to another living being.
>...
>Oh shit, you're going to have to keep Richie's big mouth shut, aren't you?
>You look to him in worry, and find him just hovering in mid air, a bored look etched into his face.
>Maybe...he forgot about it already?
>Strange, it's in his personality to remember.
>...what if he remembers, and isn't going to say anything?
>Worse, what if he doesn't know, and if you ask him if he's decided to keep it secret, which reminds him and he suddenly blurts it out?
>Gulp.
>Best option is now...just...don't bring it up.
>You are brought out of your internal monologue to Iris calling you over.
>"Go on, ask her that stuff like you wanted."
"Stuff?"
>...
"Oh right, that stuff."
>Deep breaths, man.
>Pony.
>Stallion.
>GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, DAMMIT!
"Miss Rogers, I know this is all strange and new to you, but we're still the same people we were a few days ago. We'll be looking into why it happened, but we need someone who can have access to the outside world. Can you be our in between and arbiter? We really need your help, and for more than just getting food and stuff."
>"Like what else did you have in mind?"
>Her eyes still dart between you and Iris quickly.
"Well not much. We need a believable cover story, and you'll have to collaborate with it. Other than that, yeah, we might need supplies and stuff."
>She seems to consider this for a minute until her face begins to soften and she produces a small smile.
>"Yes, I would be delighted to help you and your friends...you are Tom's best friends from high school, right?"
"The very same, miss."
>"I am more than willing to help you three out. You've always been such nice children, so why wouldn't I?"
>You breathe a sigh of relief and return her smile.
>Thank goodness.
>Next thing was to investigate the dolls and the cause of your transformation.
>Iris and her mother begin to talk again, beginning to corroborate her cover story.
>You opt to go back to the dolls again.
>The three human dolls are still right where you left them, and the box is still MIA.
>You inspect your own doll, looking over its stitches and crevasses, maybe looking for any clues or a tag or something.
>Not like you could expect much.
>Machine wash cold, warm dry? Made in Equestria, 60% magic, 40% cotton?
>You chuckle and place your doll down, no clues found.
>But the more you think about picking them up...the more your mind tries to tell you there's something important about it...
"Wait...didn't we pick up our dolls...ourselves?"
>Remembering, you pulled your doll out, and Tom and Richie did as well...
>Now days later, you're all ponies.
>Unfortunately, touching them doesn't seem to be the trigger...
>Maybe it was sleeping with or near the doll?
>No, you changed more while at the store, becoming a full earth pony before you made it back with the shopping cart...which you jacked and put in the garage.
>Might have to return that.
>You'll tell Iris' mom in a minute.
>No, the more likely scenario is that the box had something to do with it.
>The fact that is up and disappeared without you remembering doing anything to it (and yes, you had checked the trash because it hadn't gone out to the curb yet) only implicates its involvement further.
>Which, unfortunately, means you are again at a dead end.
>With a sigh, you chuck your plush lookalike that no longer looks anything like you at the other two, knocking them both over.
"Strike."
>Then you walk back to the other room.
>Apparently Mrs Rogers has warmed up a bit more now, and is catching up with her "son" and Richie,
>He seems to be his usual self, all bad jokes and rampant teasing.
>Iris...
>Tom had changed.
>At first, all three of you had.
>Your minds were nearly overwritten by your OC counterparts, and you had managed to get it back the next morning.
>You could only guess what happened in Iris' mind to make her okay with all this.
>When and if you came to terms with being a pony with no way back...would you call yourself Carbon Copy?
>What about Richie? Would he become Zee?
>And what of your personalities?
>Most of you were the same as your OC in temperament, except that Zee was stoically silent, only spoke when spoken to or needed to.
>And CC...he was just like X, as much as Zee is like Zero.
>Such is the problem of being based off of some video game characters.
>So was your willingness to hope that Richie wouldn't spill be like CC's belief in the best of ponies, or just what you knew about your friend?
>Fucking complicated bullspit.
>"Hey man, are you ok?"
"Huh?"
>Richie is right next to you, concerned.
>"Dude, you've been standing still for almost a minute. Are you feeling OK or just lost in thought?"
"I'm fine."
>You're really not.
"Mrs Rogers, we have a shopping cart we can't return, could you maybe..."
>"Well wouldn't you rather keep it so you could maybe be moved around in the covered cart?"
>...wow.
>That's not a bad idea, actually.
"Oh, uh...sure. Thanks for the idea, Mrs. Rogers."
>Still...
>There might come a time when your mind changes.
>Tom's gone through it.
>She's Iris now.
>And it doesn't bother you that she's a mare, it bothers you on the principle that you are okay with it while you logically should not be.
>Or are you just supporting your friends' life choice?
>You sigh.
 
>Later that night, as you head off to bed, you can see Richie through the window in his cloud, tail swishing back and forth.
>A bottle of wine is on the cloud as well.
>This warrants investigation.
>As you open the door, Richie does not turn to see you, or even speak.
>...oh shit, is he changing now?
"Rich..."
>"Hey. come on out, the cloud is fine."
>Phew.
"What's on your mind? The bottle of wine for anything?"
>"Not much...tried a beer, it was like piss."
>You chuckle.
"Coors at its finest."
>"Yeah well, your taste in alcohol is bad and you should feel bad."
"No denying it. I can't stand the stuff anymore."
>"Cool, your transformation into a pony fixed your taste buds."
"Yeah, how kind of the one who changed us."
>Richie doesn't answer.
"Rich, you feeling alright? You're not normally this quiet..."
>"I don't know how you do it."
"Huh? Do what?"
>"You and Iris. Tom. You just...adapted."
>What. Has this guy not been paying attention to you all day?
"What do you mean adapted? I'm not adapted. I'm confused as fuck. You seen me spacing out all day; you tell me if that's 'adapted' or not."
>He takes a deep breath and sighs, flopping onto his back.
>"This whole thing, man. I've just been trying to stay on the lighter side of the change. I made peace with the sex..."
>Shit, he does remember...but that means he didn't bring it up on purpose. Phew.
>"...I get to fly, I make jokes, I tease...anything to get my mind off of the fact that my life pretty much just ended."
"That's pretty damn dark for our resident jokester."
>"And THAT, my friend, is why I have the bottle."
>"But like I said, you adapted. You've been moving around on all fours all day, opening doors, using locks, lifting Mrs Rogers, making that sandwich...like nothing can stop you from being normal. I want that. You know? I want to be normal again."
>Normal again.
>"Not that you'd know anything about it."
>You scoff.
"Man, you have no idea what I'd give to go back to normal. To even go back to the way we were as friends. Things are hella awkward with Iris now! My kingdom to not be a horse."
>He laughs a bit, then takes a swig from the wine.
>"Yeah, there's some truth to that, isn't there..."
>...
>You spend a good hour in silence, getting your own bottle of wine (which tasted much fucking better) and just watched the stars and streetlights of the city.
 
>The next day, the two of you (Iris went home in her mom's car) went about the usual morning business.
>Nothing out of the ordinary, except Richie finally used up his cloud watering the plants.
>It sort of disappeared as he bounced on it for the last time, catching himself with a small flutter.
>"So what's on the agenda, oh brave and fearless leader?
"Well, obviously, we still need more leads on what transformed us. You got any clues?"
>"No."
>Well that was fast.
>But not to worry.
>You've got a plan.
"When's the last time we got online?"
>"Uhhh...before this happened, I think."
"Uh huh...what say we check out the chat rooms and a few other sites to see if anyone else has claimed something similar to us."
>He taps a forehoof to his chin.
>"Then how are we supposed to not look like the bad guys when we want to meet?"
"We can come to that after we've found a likely transformee. Let's go, wingers."
>"Wingers?"
"You know, like finger wings. Let's go."
>He chuckles, but follows suit to the computer, which you still hadn't managed to turn off yet.
>"Ooh, what's this? A bunch of messages from your secret admirer?"
"WHAT."
>You shove him out of the way to find that he opened your Skype to a load of new messages from a profile called "Your Secret Admirer".
>There was about 10 per day since you got the dolls.
"Woah..."
>All of them opened with “Greetings, Dear” and proceeded to dictate your transformation.
“YES!”
>”You happy because it’s a real secret admirer? Because you know I don’t think they’re gonna want to fuck a po-“
“No, it’s not a real secret admirer, but it’s a lead! And what’s more is that they’re all personal sounding messages! None of them are stiff, they flow with a grammar style! Do you know what this means?”
>…
>”Not a fucking clue, dude. What the hell are you on about?”
>It’s rudimentary fucking spy movie crap! Does the guy not pay attention or something?
>With a frustrated growl, you point out to him certain phrases re-used frequently, and other tells.
“See? It has a grammar style, which means whoever sent these has a style similar! If we keep checking mlp sites and chat rooms, we’re bound to find them! And THAT’S when we try to move in!”
>After a few nods, Richie smiles.
>”Yeah…now I’m seeing it. Man, what did…where did you learn that stuff from?”
“Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego, Ghostwriter, Sherlock Hol-“
>A hoof plugs your speak-hole.
>”That was a simple answer, not a list. I get it, TV pulled through for once.”
>You nod enthusiastically.
>It's about fucking time you had another good turn of luck.
>You hurry to open as many tabs as possible without crashing your computer, and get started on helping Richie discover the one responsible for your transformations.
 
>Meanwhile...
>"Report to me. What's going on now?"
>"Sir! At 14:36, a civilian vehicle parked outside the residence, and a woman entered. She exited at 15:12 with a small pink and yellow creature. They took the car to another destination, where they both went inside. At around 2100, the red one flew outside, and was joined by the blue one."
>"Good, anything today?"
>"Yes sir, the red one discharged the cloud it took a few days ago. No activity besides that, however."
>"Discharged how?"
>"It appears he placed it in a stasis."
>The screen shows the cloud expelling its water until it evaporates.
>"Afterwards, the cloud was used rapidly, and disappeared."
>"Alright, good work. Keep me posted. I want to know what these things are capable of. Send some of the local police force a warning to stay ready."
>"Sir!"
>”And let’s see if we can’t get some better surveillance around that neighborhood. As much as movies portray us as well-funded and top-of-the-line, we can’t really afford to clean the Hubble telescope’s lens.”
>”…yes, sir.”
 
>10 sites crossed off your list.
>You were still waiting in the chat, however, because more people got on or off at different times of day. So without waiting a full day, there was no way to tell.
>"This is taking forever."
"Eeyup."
>"And this is boring as fuck."
"Yeah."
>"I mean, what's the point of roleplaying a pony, when you are one? Seriously."
>You both laugh for a minute, before receiving a private message.
>It's from Iris.
>>Guys, I think I found a letter in the mail that would be a clue. Someone wanted to meet in person, but he kept saying pony phrases. I'm sure as fuck not going alone.
>"Well..."
>Richie shoves himself away from the screen.
>"That was an absolutely wonderful waste of time."
"Well not really, we knocked quite a few sites off the list already. And this thing Iris got, the letter, might not even be it. We'll just do this thing, and then if it turns out to be a false lead, we'll still have headway."
>"I guess. Well i can take a cloud, how about you, earthy?"
>You grimace.
"We still have the shopping cart. if you can get a line between your cloud and the cart, we'll be invisible...just really attention drawing. It'll still keep our ponification a secret."
>He stares at you blankly.
"What?"
>"Only a little attention from a runaway shopping cart in a tarp, held by a rope to a cloud way below cloud level going around town? Do you even think before making plans? Might want to check yourself there, Freddy. I ain't your Scooby Doo."
"Aren't my what?'
>"You aren't the only guy who gets to make old cartoon references. Now sit down, I've got a better idea."
"Than let's hear it."
>You seat yourself on your haunches.
>It is a lot more comfortable than the other day.
>"Okay, I'm going to do the surveillance from a cloud. YOU are going to stay here and get some walkie talkies or something to help us deduce if it's the same dude as your emails."
"I don't like it..."
>"Aw chillax dude, it isn't like you're the main character, as Megaman'd up as your OC is. You're our friend, but this is all of our problems. We'll handle this one, you just help is from afar, ok?"
>You really don't like it.
>Your face twists up as you try to come up with a better idea to rationalize your involvement.
"What if we got a coat an-"
>"No, even if we got dressed up to look like a human in a trenchcoat, we'd be the oddity. Geez, are all your ideas from cartoons today or what?"
>That shuts you up.
>You literally cannot think of a single thing that hasn't been done in cartoons.
>In fact...
"Hold on, I'm going to call Iris."
>A few minutes of very stressful phone button pressing later (as if you were going to accept mister featherfinger's help on this one) you manage to get Mr Rogers on the phone.
>"Hi there neighbor!"
"Hey, Mr Rogers, is Ir...uhhh, Tom home?"
>"Why of course. Here, I'll put him on the line!"
"Thanks."
>"Hey, it's me. What do you need?"
"Hi, Iris, we saw your message. When and where is the meetup?"
>"The guy said he wanted to see me tomorrow at the park a few blocks away...did I tell you it was an actual mail message?"
"Wait, really? No shit..."
>"Yeah, so he knows my address and has the meeting point be somewhere close by. I'd be a little frightened if I didn't have magic."
"Oh, right, the reason I called was on that line of thought. What spells are you able to use?"
>"Spells...I never really thought of them that way."
"Really? Then tell me what you can do. Can you manage invisibility or an illusion? Maybe teleportation or fireballs or something?"
>She sighs, and you could swear you can hear her eyes roll.
>"I lift things. And not with any kind of perfection, it's more like having invisible hands with infinite reach. I could try working on something like that..."
"That'd be great. So we think we can get Richie to trail you in a cloud in case things go south."
>"What about you?"
"What about me?"
>"You know...I'd feel safer if you...if we all were in this."
>You scoff.
"We're all in this together, just this mission I'm sidelining. I'm gonna pull out my old walkie talkies, they've got a large enough radius. We an use them to keep in touch since for some ungodly reason none of us use cellphones."
>You stop, remembering something.
"Besides, I don't think we ever figured out how we're getting you out to the park to meet this guy without cover. Did you have something in mind or were you going to just have your mom drop you off?"
>She chuckles a little.
>"Right, because the park totally doesn't have children in it at almost every hour. But that's easy, he wants to meet at night."
"Meeting at night, huh? A perfect excuse. This is sounding more and more likely. But I have emails and you have snailmail. Not only that, the emails say nothing about meeting up, and are more geared towards describing what we went through. Me in particular. There's more shit about earth pony muscles and density in here than a college course."
>"Ooh! I wanna see!"
>You look to Richie to request he forward the emails, but he's already logged off of your skype to check his own.
>So instead, you stall.
"Uhhh, I'll have to forward you that stuff later. Why do you want to see it?"
>Silence reigns for a good 10 seconds
>"I-I just wanted to uh...learn more about what happened and stuff. So, yeah, just do it later. We have until tomorrow anyway."
"Right. well, talk to you later."
>"Bye."
"Bye."
>You hang up the phone and Richie is already off the computer and heading past you.
"Hey wait, I need you to forward the emails to Iris real quick."
>"Can it wait? I'm gonna sneak home and check the houses' mail and answering machine."
"What for?"
>"I don't have any emails or any skype messages about any of this. I already logged you back in, so just use a pencil or something to work the keys. I'll be back in a flash."
"Hey wait, idiot!"
>"The fuck you just call me?"
"I call em as I see em! You drained your cloud this morning. Are you, the guy who just told me not to go outside without cover, going to just fly up on out there and get home without a cloud? In case you haven't noticed, there aren't any clouds in sight! Hell, this even cuts into our plans to back up Iris!"
>He appears to mutter what might be a string of curses, but all you catch is "Rassafrasssasasss."
>"Fuck all, you're right. Rrrg! I just wanted to see if I could do it! In the show, Rainbow Dash drained the water without popping the cloud...fuck."
>He paces...in the air.
>"Alright, new plan. We mix a couple of our cartoony ideas, cover you in the cart and pretend my dog is sick while I wear the trenchcoat and push you in the cart and get to my house. I've got some stuff there we could snag too. We'll grab that and then hijack my parent's ca-"
"I'm gonna have to stop you right there, pal. Firstly: we aren't going to take that car. How the fuck would we drive it? Secondly: 'our' cartoon ideas? I seem to remember you complaining about all 'my' ideas. And your combination might be the stupidest of them all!"
>"Well then, come up with a better god-damned plan! I would absofuckalutely LOVE to get just one idea out of you that isn't just bitching at me!"
"I'M bitching at YOU!? Ha! That's a good one! How about you sit down and shut up for a minute! The hell are you getting so mad about!?"
>He flies up right into your face and slams his forehead against yours in typical cartoon butting heads fashion.
>"I"m not upset! I’m frustrated at the lack of effort you seem to be putting forward at getting us turned back!"
"And here I thought you were okay with being a pegasus. What's this all about, really? Is this about last night? You want to be normal again? Talk to me calmly and we can figure it out, but yelling at me isn't gonna solve a damned thing!"
>He looks like he's about to attack when he takes a deep breath and just yells in anger and sits back down.
>"Damn it!"
"Now what is it?"
>"It's...this whole bullshit is un-fucking-fair and I haven't a single damned clue what to do."
>You give him that Castanza look.
>He rolls his eyes.
>"Okay. Calm. I am calmly talking to you."
"I know it's unfair, but at the very least we are going to do this calmly. Let's take a look at the weather for today/tomorrow so we know when to go looking for a cloud and if they'll be around. Otherwise just wait until tonight. There's no rush. Under the cover of night, you can just fly over to Iris' place in preparation for tomorrow."
>He nods and sighs.
>"Man, how the fuck did we not think of that to begin with?"
>You shrug.
"Fucked if I know."
"Okay then. let's just wait until later. Let's forward those messages to Iris. And afterwards, let's watch a movie or something while we wait. It's only midday. And heck, I'm starved."
>He thinks about it, and his stomach growls.
>"Sounds good."
 
>Later that day.
>"Alright!"
>Richie is stretching and flexing his wings.
>"The sun isn't shining, the wind is calm, and there isn't a cloud in sight. Time for me to enact this grand master plan of simplicity. I'll see you later."
"And the plan?"
>"I go to my house, check on the stuff. Turn back here to pick up the walkie talkies. I then head on over to Iris' place and hang out there for a day."
"And I'm gonna go through the garage for batteries and walkie talkies while you're out at your house. See you soon, maybe an hour?"
>"Eyyep. And I'm OUTTA HERE!"
>You open the back door and he zips right the fuck out, leaping into the night.
>As you see him climb into higher altitudes you chuckle.
"And good riddance."
>With him out of the way you can enact your new grand master plan.
"Time...to fap!"
>But first, the bathroom.
>And before that even, the walkie talkies.
>You head to the garage.
>Why do they call them walkie talkies anyway? Why not shortrange radio?
>They probably do.
>But according to the box you just pulled out, they're walkie talkie brand walkie talkies. Made for ages 10 and up with a convenient (annoying as fuck) dots and dashes system where you can press a secondary button to make it beep on the signal.
>Their range is about a mile.
"Excellent. Batteries next."
>...
"Nope, nevermind, nature calls."
>You grab the box in your mouth (pleh, dust) and scamper to the toilet, tossing the box with a quick twist towards the couch on the way.
>Now for the hard part.
>Operating the porcelain throne.
>This was easy as pie as a human.
>Stand, aim and fire.
>And yes, you've gone to the bathroom a few times the last few days, but it never seems to get any easier.
>At least the formula for dumping never changed, except you had to lift your tail out of the way so it didn't get dunked into the water.
>Unfortunately, that's just the number two formula.
>So taking a whizz only leaves you with a few options, due to junior's new "direction".
>Either go outside and make like a dog, or brace yourself against the wall and hope for the best.
>Sure, no-one was around to tease you or give you grief over going outside, but the whole thing....
>It kind of reeked of being an animal, less than you were.
>Even as a pony, you're human. You have some pride left, dammit.
>So it wasn't an option.
>You brace one hoof in the center above the toilet and lean over the open bowl.
>You decide to aim with the second hoof, hoping to minimize casualties. (A piss covered bathroom is a bad bathroom.)
>Minutes later, you have success.
>Congratulations, you didn't pee on the ceiling.
"And a good time was had by all."
>Now, for the most most dangerous game.
 
>A swift rapping of hoof on glass lets you know Richie's back.
>Well, you couldn't manage your porn folder open before he returned, so you ended up just scrolling through the skype messages about your transformation.
>Interesting stuff, if a little technical at times.
>Maybe Iris would have better luck at gaining something from it.
>You open the back door for him again.
>"Hey, did you know it feels warm outside?"
"And did you remember you have a coat on quite permanently?"
>"...oh. Well in any case, I'm ready to go. Pass up them walkie talkies and I'll be on my way."
"Uhhhh..."
>You forgot the batteries.
"Hold on just one minute?"
>"Well I only have all night...and it would be great to just lay back for a minute. Kinda wish you had a cloud laying around."
>You being rifling through drawers, closets and boxes.
>Gotta find them D sized monsters.
"And if I did, we wouldn't be in this mess."
>"Yeah yeah..."
>Got the little big bastards.
>You return with the batteries in mouth to find him trying his damnedest to open the walkie talkie box.
>"This...shit...doesn't want to...open!"
"That's easy enough."
>He chucks it at you, and you return fire with the batteries.
"Hold on to those."
>You grab the box and place a hoof on the top with the tab.
>You know hooves can't articulate this. This is why things are child proof, cat proof, dog proof, and pretty much anything without dexterity proof.
>You feel your grip slipping.
>You zone out for a few seconds, then just go through the motions of opening the box like you would normally.
>When you snap back to reality, the box is open, and Richie's face is a fusion between astounded and jealous.
"And presto, we have the open box. Autographs after the show. Now let's pop them in the radios and be on our way."
>"You son of a bitch. Alright."
>A minute later, you have three of the four w-t's loaded and ready.
>Grabbing a small bag, you hook it to Richie with a buckle and a belt and load two of them in.
"Good luck and godspeed, dude. Don't do anything I wouldn't."
>"So I can do Iris?"
>You involuntarily twitch.
"NO."
>"Woah, hey now, no need to get defensive, it was a joke. Trying to lighten the mood you know?"
"Some things you don't joke about."
>"Alright...I thought you were over the whole fucking your friend thing already. You were not. Backing off."
>You've twitched a few more times since then.
>"Okay, I'm off, I won't do anything to Iris. You have my word."
"Good. It's still just...weird, alright?"
>"Weird for you or her?"
"I don't know...me though, definitely."
>He looks at you with pity.
>"Welp, good luck dude, that shit's your problem."
>And with that, he takes to the skies, right into the window, bouncing back in pain.
"PfffpffffffHAAHAAHAHAH!"
>"Don't laugh at me! It was an accident!"
>You are still laughing by the time he opens a door and flies out.
>As your laughter dies down, you take a deep breath and try to rationalize the conversation.
>Why WERE you so defensive?
>Of course you were worried if word got out...
>But is that all it is?
>What if it isn't the problem at all?
>You trot on back to your own room.
>With mad skill, determination, and your newfound ability to grab things like nothing is wrong (wooo pinkie powah) you move the mouse ever so carefully across the screen until you manage your way to the infamous porn stash.
>You start looking through the images, setting it to cycle through by themselves.
>Papa's in for a good time.
>Here's anonymous woman with big tatas number one.
>...
>...
>Nothing?
>Well, here's number two.
>...
>Three?
>17?
>Fat bottomed girl? She used to make the rocking world go round!
>Junior, what the fuck man.
>Not as if it wasn't hard enough with hooves.
>You grit your teeth and start skipping images in the slide show.
>Girls of all legal ages, body shapes, pleasing forms, nice hair, enrapturing eyes, toons, lesbians, anything you'd think a guy could get off to...
>Nothing. No reaction.
>You sigh angrily and try once more to come up with a solution, or perhaps the cause.
>Last sexy thing you did was...that.
>Was that myth true then?
>Once you go in, you'll never fap again? (or whatever it was, you don't remember exactly. probably once you go black you never go back)
>In any case, porn isn't cutting it for you.
>Okay. you can deal with that.
>You're no virgin.
>Good.
>Right?
>That's a good thing?
>You scratch your head in frustration.
"Rrrrg, this whole thing is fucking pointless and confusing!"
>You close out of the slide show and go flop down uselessly onto your bed.
>So what, because you've had sex, you'll never get it up without promise of poon?
"Some fucking bullshit."
>But being angry isn't helping your thought process, it's just making it circular instead.
>You take a few deep breaths, calming slightly before continuing.
>The last time you had been turned on, had been when you saw Iris, lifting her tail, and drinking the soda in an overly sexual manner-
>Junior has risen for duty.
>Boner, why?
>Why was it that what brought you to attention?
>Boner pls go.
>Now that you've got it up, you don't want it up.
>Typical.
>So it it Iris what did the trick, or mares?
>Well, to know for sure, you'd likely have to look it up.
>...
"Hold on there, train of thought, I am not looking up pony pornography."
>Ohshityousaiditoutloudwhatareyoudoing?
>Good thing no-one heard that.
>How embarrassing.
>Your boner rationalizes you don't have to look up porn to see some sexy smut.
>You've got memories!
>Every moment together with Iris (nononono), every swish and sway of her tail (oh come on boner, this shit does not fly!), and the way she looked up at you as she gave you head. (now this is getting out of hand. hoof...this shit's going to drive me crazy!)
>Your breathing increases, and you gulp.
>Trying to regain control of the situation, you remember the images of the human girls.
>Your mind instead betrays you for the boner, replacing the images with Iris in the same pose.
>Your hooves find purchase...
 
>An hour later you step from the shower onto a pile of towels.
>You might never be clean again.
>Also: horse spunk does not like to come clean from fur.
>Just another uncomfortable lesson you wish you never learned.
>Like how you became a ponysexual.
>And also how you would probably like nothing more than to animalistically fuck Iris, whom you've known for years as a human male.
>You roll around in the towels like a pig in mud, trying to get dry everywhere by shuffling quickly.
>You almost look like a wet dog.
>Smell like one too.
>A blue large dog with no paws and some serious mental problems.
>Or at least the problems seem serious to you.
"So...unclean..."
 
>It is now midnight, and you are running out of ways to entertain yourself.
>Apparently, so long as you zone out of noticing that you have hooves, you become a lot more dextrous in their bizarre magnetism.
>Video game controllers are still impossible wherever your hoof's surface cannot reach, and keyboards do not like to respond correctly at all, but the mouse does if you angle it just right.
"Boooooored..."
>There is nothing to do.
>Well, nothing you want to do.
>The box for the plushies is long gone, probably fell in a plot hole or some such.
>Iris and Rich were doing...whatever.
>When you activated the walkie talkies out of boredom, you met a response from Iris that they should be turned off until you need them.
"Fucking...booooooooooorrrrred-d-d-d-d-dduhhhhh..."
>So bored that making weird noises is the best entertainment you've got.
>What do ponies do for entertainment, anyway?
>Frolic?
>...
>Actually, some exercise might do you some good about now.
>Rising from your spot on the floor, you walk outside.
>It's late, so nobody will see you outside, at least.
>It's really late and you should be asleep, but you aren't tired, just bored out of your little pony skull.
>Once outside you jog a few laps around to warm up after a minute or so of stretching your limbs.
>Strangely enough, most of your stretches still work, except for your hind legs.
>It doesn't really help though.
>You feel great having moved around, but it's still mind-numbing repetitive trash.
>You look over to the pool.
"I wonder, how well can a pony swim?"
>If the show is right, ponies swim just as easily as anything else.
>However, if the show is right, you are granted water breathing as long as you're wearing a snorkel, regardless of depth.
>So jury's still out on that.
>You put a hoof in the water.
>It isn't really cold or hot.
>Which is strange, given the temperature of outside...which you can't feel through your fur either.
"Well, that proves nothing...I guess there's only one way to do it and do it right..."
>You back off about 15 feet then rear back on your hind legs.
"Chaaaaarrrge!"
>You gallop forward recklessly and then leap at the last few feet before the water.
>The splash alone probably woke your neighbors, if your daring cry didn't already.
>COLD!
"I regret it all! I regret everything!"
>The water's chill is only compounded when you rise to the surface to breathe and yell, having your wet fur touch the cold wind.
>Acting quickly, you get the ever loving fuck out of the water.
>...
>THIS IS SO MUCH WORSE!
>It's too far to reach the door, but the pool is still behind you...
>You step right back into the pool, the comparative temperature much warmer than a few seconds ago.
>Once you have your head at the water's surface, you mutter out a stream of curses just under the water, bubbles reaching the top and popping that release random syllables.
>It's as if your very presence says "fuck physics, I have cartoon logic" .
>At this point, it's likely if you don't watch yourself walk off a cliff, you'll take a few steps into the air.
>In any case, you're here, it's cold. You might as well swim.
>Of course, only now you remember you just took a shower, and so you'll have to take another.
>Itchiness after the pool was standard with skin, you have no desire to find out if it's any worse with fur.
>But you can swim pretty easily, even with hooves, the doggy paddle is functional somewhat.
>So you swim.
>And you swam.
>And swum.
>And around 1:30 AM you realize that you are shivering under the water.
"F-f-ffuck this sh-sh-shit. I'm out."
 
>Well after such a long and uneventful night, it's time for a bath.
>You zip out of the water to the door as quickly as you can manage, ignoring the bite of the night air as you do, sopping wet and dripping (hur hur) all the way.
>You slam the door behind you, the lack of light wind inside feeling much better, but not good enough.
>You zip to the bathroom again, still trailing chlorinated water throughout the house until you hop inside the tub.
 
>You know how some people can jump inside a tub and nothing bad happens?
>That's because the tub is dry, and hands can catch against other nearby surfaces just in case. Even toes help a little.
>Ponies have neither hands nor toes.
>And you were already the opposite of "dry".
>Yeah.
>That's probably what happened.
 
>When you awaken, your head is throbbing, and you're mostly dry.
>Your fur is matted and uncomfortable, and you have a bad taste in your mouth (but that likely comes more from not being able to brush your teeth since the transformation) as you blink rapidly, sunlight pouring in from the window.
"Ugggg..."
>You shudder involuntarily.
>Smacking your lips, you shift and turn on the water.
>It's cold right now, but you don't give a shit.
>You sigh.
"What time is it anyw-ahhh...ahhh....ahhhCHOO!"
>Fuck.
>Everything.
>So now you're cold, wet, uncomfortable, bored, have a headache, confused about what or who you're attracted to, and have a cold.
"Snfff...this is some level of bullshit."
>At least the water's getting warmer.
 
>You relax in your bath, content to soak in the hot water.
>You only sneeze a few times in the hour you spend in there.
>You checked your head for blood, which thankfully was not bleeding at all.
"Well, this sure is some fun. I sure am glad I was so bored I had to go in the pool at midnight-o'clock."
>Yeah.
>You're very sarcastic today.
>But at least now you can call and check up on Iris and Richie once you're done getting the chlorine out along with the rest of your woes.
 
>Alright. now that that's over with, and you are once more dry, you get the bedsheets into the washing machine along with all your other laundry.
>It might be a bachelor pad, but there's no need to leave dirty clothes lying around if you don't even wear them anymore.
>Once that started, you stepped right on up to the phone and dialed up the Rogers' residence.
>"Hello, neighbor, how can I help you? Let me just put on my shoes first..."
>You deadpan at the phone.
"Mister Rogers, it's me again. Is Tom still there?"
>"Oh, sure. That pink pony parading as my progeny is present."
>Holy shit, is he using sarcasm?
"You alright there?"
>"Well it just sank in that yes, this really happened. My son is a woman now...or not even, because SHE is a unicorn!"
>He's starting to raise his voice.
>"So you tell me if I'm alright knowing my bloodline is over, and I won't even get the courtesy of a grandchild that's human if SHE decides to give birth!"
"..."
>Well shit. How are you supposed to answer that?
>Double awkward because A: you came inside Iris, B: you masturbated to her last night, and C: you're pretty sure you're never going to bring up the possibility of liking her to her father now.
"Uhhh...that sounds...pretty bad."
>"No, really? Well I'm glad you see it my way."
>He begins to calm down.
>Dude almost reminds you more of the happy mask salesman than Mr "hey there neighbor" Rogers in a sweater.
>"Well what can I do for you then? Ah yes, you wanted them on the line. Dick! The phone is for you two!"
>You snigger away from the phone.
>He calls Richie "Dick" for some reason. It never fails to give you a laugh.
>Well, not "some reason" per se.
>It just seems like Mr Rogers doesn't get that it kind of pisses Richie off.
>So he just says it every time without thought of any consequence, and without provocation.
>"Hello?"
"Cool. I wanted to talk to you two."
>"Any particular reason?"
"I can't operate the computer right and I'm bored as fuck. Have you guys had any more luck?"
>"Dude, you rhyming now or what?"
"No. That just kind of...happened. So what's new with you two?"
>He laughs.
"Yes, that one was on purpose."
>"Okay, well all quiet on the Rogers home front. Nothing's gone on, we just been watching movies and Iris been reading those emails of yours. She's also been practicing with her magic. Nothing new yet."
"Hmm."
>Well, just like that you're almost out of things to talk about.
"So really, she practiced with magic, and learned nothing?"
>"No elements, no clouds, lights beyond the natural glow around the horn and object."
"Well that blows."
>"Yeah, but she can use her telekinesis like hands with perfect reactions. She beat me in video games, man. In VIDEO GAMES!"
"What are you getting worked up over?"
>"I was sure my wingers would give me the advantage, but she's just too good now! And that's not all! There's something about her I think you should know."
"Something I should know?"
>"Yeah. Something like how she-oh hey Iris. It's for you."
>That son of a bitch.
>"Hey there! How are you today?"
"Um...fine."
>"I could hear Richie say my name. Did he tell you how badly I whooped him at Mortal Kombat and Halo?"
"He did not specify what games you made him your bitch in, no."
>She laughs for a moment, and you can't help but smile.
>"Well anyway, I've been trying to figure out a way to keep the radio on me when I go see this guy. As far as I can tell, I'll need a saddlebag, so I've been modifying the straps on some of my old bookbags. Are you proud of me?"
"Proud of you?"
>"For figuring out a solution to a problem before you even brought it up!"
>...huh.
>She kind of did.
"Nice job, Iris."
>"Teehee~."
"So is that all the interesting things going on over there?"
>"Well it's a bit of an uphill battle concerning my dad, who believed it was a dream up until he caught me using the bathroom."
"Why did catching you in the bathroom do that?"
>You want to ask what she was doing when he walked in, but it's not right to ask a girl that sort of thing.
>"Welll~ he saw me as I stepped out of the shower. As I was fixing my mane, I think that's when he walked in and it clicked to him that I was female."
>Huh.
>"Also: I was reading about your changes. They're very interesting, you know. I almost wish there was an email detailing my changes too, so I could have known how sensitive my horn was going to be..."
"Wait, what was that about a sensitive horn?"
>"Not like a dick. It's just...hmm...It's like an open bone. It's tough, sure, and can take a hit. However it is also a direct tap to my brain. I accidentally tapped it against a doorframe and had to lie on the ground for a few minutes until I recovered."
"Eesh. You alright?"
>"Yeah, I'm fine. And how about you?"
"Jumped in the tub and smacked my head, woke up this morning pretty damned uncomfortably. But on the whole I'm alright. Much better now."
>"Oh no...well I'm sorry to hear you were hurt when I was gone...at least you're feeling better now. Make sure you don't have a bump on your head."
"Iris, it's a pony head, I don't know enough about it to tell if I've got a bump or if it's just sore."
>She giggles.
>"Well I guess I'll have to inspect you when I see you next, huh?"
"Yeah, I'll be looking forward to it."
>"See you around. And hey, why don't you make yourself something to eat? I can hear your stomach growling from over the phone."
>Huh?
>Grmblbl...
>Well shit.
"Right, will do."
>"Take care!"
>Click.
>Welp.
>Time to get on that.
>To spice up your pony diet today, you snag a couple flowers and pop them in your mouth.
>Not bad.
>Not as satisfying as meat was, but still fills that role in the flavor department.
>Dandelions are the half a week old meat leftovers of flower flavors.
>Almost makes you wish you tended a garden so you could find out of all flowers were like that, or just weeds.
>In any case, a sliced veggie sandwich and a pear sate your appetite for the morning.
"Hmmm..."
>You used to just have a PB and J.
>Extra peanut butter.
>Does being a pony change liking other foods that aren't meat?
>You grab a knife (ha-ha "grab"), the peanut butter, and scoop out a bit.
>You place the knife of peanut butter in your mouth and close, then slide the knife out.
>Still tastes pretty good.
>You reflexively press your tongue against the stuff; and that's when you realize something important.
>Peanut butter is on the roof of your mouth.
>You tongue does not want to get it off the roof of your mouth.
>You have essentially trolled yourself with a dollop of peanut butter and ignorance of the situation.
"Hhhhht's nhhhht fhhhhrrrr..."
>You wail that it's not fair in your despair.
>You'll probably have to wait for saliva to break it down to get it off, and it'll bug you anywhere between 5 minutes and an hour.
>You aren't sure.
>Owning a dog wasn't something you've done, and testing to see how long the dog kept licking at the peanut butter wasn't either.
>It was funny, yes, but you had no idea how long it took.
>You could also probably try swishing something around in your mouth like milk or something.
>Yeah, that sounds better than waiting as you continually attempt to dislodge it in vain with your tongue.
>In this miserable state, you get to the kitchen intent on drinking any and all available liquids. (Except for beer. Fuck beer.)
>You pop open the milk and swig it straight from the gallon jug.
>Swishing it around helps, but it isn't enough.
>You swallow, placing the milk back after closing it.
>The sink.
>Of course, it's so obvious!
>You rush to the sink and turn on the water, setting it to the pressure that blasts the crud off of dishes.
>You turn so that your head is upside down and open your mouth.
>Taking a deep breath, you thrust your head forward and receive a mouthful of high-pressure water.
"Glalgagalblaaglbg."
>You take your head out and spit what you can, turning off the water.
>...
>There is STILL some peanut butter on the roof of your mouth.
>Some days you just can't win.
 
>"Sir, I'm here to report that the red one has been actively moving among locations with purpose."
>"With purpose? What purpose?"
>"That has not yet been identified, sir. The red one went from these coordinates to these ones over here."
>"Hmmm..."
>"After which, it returned to the first house, then sped off a few minutes later to another house, which it was let inside through the front door."
>"Let in? We need to know who or what let that thing inside the houses. Get the police to check it out. I want that information yesterday."
>"Sir yes sir!"
>Minutes later...
>"Hello, this is the police."
>"Code Delta Ingrid Charlie Kaiser, this is Military Intelligence."
>"Ah, I was waiting for a call from you guys again. What can I do for you?"
>"We need you to go to the locations I am faxing you and gather intelligence. We need to know who is in there and what they do."
>"Alright, I'll see what we can do."
>"Thank you."
>The fax machine begins its work, and the Officer of the law takes it in his hands once it is finished.
>"Hmm...we got three residences...shouldn't be too hard...wait, what's this? The Rogers' place? Oh lord, what have they done this time?"