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Strangers to the Plain

By OrwellRedenbacher
Created: 2025-05-10 07:42:13
Updated: 2025-07-07 11:33:23
Expiry: Never
transformationmaredrugsptfg

  1. Strangers to the Plain is written as something of a therapy exercise by a writer who has been through some shit and has had both detachment and attachment issues with conventional treatment. Updates are generally published not long after the writer has completed them, and while generally given a sober once-over for errors, these are not always caught and pointing them out is encouraged. This is not to say that there is not a plan for where the story is going, but like the path of life it may sometimes be meandering. If that's not your thing, feel free to give this one a pass or wait until it's had a bit more time in the oven to read it, I will not judge you in the slightest for doing so.
  2.  
  3. In an ideal world this work will update every Friday. We do not live in an ideal world, but this is a goal that is strived for when possible.
  4.  
  5. >Tired, alert.
  6. >Awake, asleep.
  7. >Empty, unlimited.
  8. >The meds...
  9. >You look down at your... not hands really
  10. >It's something like a fist, kinda reminds you of that kid you knew with the club foot at swim lessons
  11. >Your phone inches from your face
  12. >Your anxiety is tempered, like eggs in custard. Your mind is a few ticks away from scrambling.
  13. >Your face is covered in little hairs.
  14. >You're soft, vulnerable.
  15. >You've got powerful legs. You can kick.
  16. >You're a poet. You're a moron.
  17. "Are the two supposed to be mutually exclusive?"
  18. >You took one, it's nice. Even alone the feeling of being a pony is comfortable. The place is a bit of a mess, but you'll clean tomorrow.
  19. >Just like you always say
  20. >Nobody really knows where the drug comes from
  21. >It operates tangent to a physical...
  22. >It's...
  23. >People agree on strands, so named for the way the internals of the pills spool outward when researchers cut the magical mystery cures open
  24. >To try to understand them
  25. >You always get the cheapest with a guarantee...
  26. >A lot of people take Clarified
  27. >That's how you probably should do it
  28. >Clarified is for functional ponies, even in a bad mental state it reaches deep into your brain and retrieves a form it knows you'll love
  29. >Faggots get stallions, trannies get cute mares, straight dudes...
  30. >Who are you kidding, straight people don't take this kind of drug
  31. >Regardless, Clarified is more expensive
  32. >You've been two-hundred-thirty-three different ponies at this point, that's the beauty of Flatrock
  33. >You don't have to pin down a form, and at this point you immediately blow any money you earn on just enough food to live as a human and as many pills as the remainder will get you from your contact by the docks
  34. >It's more than enough, the frequency at which you get low means you're not really living as a human
  35. >You try to go in with a good mindset, but most of the time it just sort of happens
  36. >You kick off your shoes, put a beer in the squeeze bottle, leave yourself a PB&J, and pop a pill
  37. >Someday, you'll find the right form for you
  38. >Maybe a nerdy mare with glaucoma
  39. >Or a stallion only distinguishable from a mare by your eyebrows
  40. >Or a silky lady of the night, the sort of mare that you might find sleeping in a cage under a strip club floor until it's time for her show
  41. >Why would full-time ponies have rights anyways? It's much hotter when they don't
  42. >You look yourself over in the full-length mirror as you finish shifting into place
  43. >No dick, but your color scheme gives vibes of what annoying people would call hsts
  44. >You won't pop the second pill tonight, but you will be using the dildo on your tailhole
  45. End of line?
  46. >
  47. >
  48. >
  49. >You groan in frustration as you pull yourself out of a pleasant dream
  50. >Need to prepare for work. If you hurry, you can just make it
  51. >You brush aside the silicone toy, letting it fall to the ground where you'll deal with it when you're back
  52. >You do something you've done many times before.
  53. >Pick up a nearby pack of dry ramen noodles and fill your mouth with it, chewing as you put your pants on
  54. >This'll give you just enough calories to get to lunch, as you chew you catch the crumbs that break off in the sheets, scooping them up as you finish and eating them too.
  55. >You got most of them, good enough
  56. >You swallow and grumble to yourself as you pull on your beat up polo and grab your car keys and wallet on your way out the door.
  57. >Your phone is dead, and it's not as if you have anyone to call regardless
  58. >You're not sure that you would've even woken up if it weren't for the couple arguing nextdoor, heard through the thin walls.
  59. >You don't have the luxury of online games anymore because of them, or at least not those that require voice chat
  60. >Apparently it's more societally acceptable to beat your wife than to call someone a faggot over the internet, you were written up for that shit
  61. >Got a nasty letter placed in your mailbox from the landlord (technically illegal since she didn't stamp it, but you're way too tired to care)
  62. >You comb your short, patchy brown hair into somewhat of an agreeable form as you take the stairs down to the street three at a time
  63. >You almost considered ODing on the mare you rolled last night just because her mane and tail were good
  64. >Not silky, but almost minky. Like a nice plush with that faux mane
  65. >So strange to think that that shit is actually a plastic product... you never would've thought
  66. >You practically slam into your car door, fumbling with the keys (your crappy, early 2000s era fob broke half a decade ago) and narrowly avoiding keying your own vehicle in your haste to jam it in
  67. >As you crank the engine, you tune into your favorite morning radio station
  68. >You like hard rock in the evening normally, but this is very suitable for morning drives
  69. >After a few minutes of ads, an Oasis song you know by heart comes on the radio
  70. "I'm free to be whatever I... whatever I choose and I'll sing the blues if I want!"
  71. >You bob your head along with the music as you turn into an arterial
  72. "I'm free to say whatever I... whatever I like If it's wrong or right, it's alright."
  73. >You drive past a head-on collision, a woman is hanging through the windshield, there's a lot of blood.
  74. >There are already paramedics nearby, so you continue driving, but the sight has killed your enthusiasm for singing along.
  75. >You look down at the light to make sure your seatbelt is properly secured, can never be too safe.
  76. >You bet she'll wish she'd done the same, if she gets through this.
  77. >You speed off, traveling 8 miles above the speed limit, over speedbumps and potholes
  78. >'Here in my mind, you know you might find, something that you'
  79. >'You thought you once knew but now it's all gone.'
  80. >It's commercials again on after Whatever, the drawbacks of a station that doesn't use radio edits of tracks
  81. >You flick off the radio, it's less than a block
  82. >Find an unoccupied parking spot outside (always a challenge even at this hour)
  83. >Pull in and straighten up the parking job as best you can without scratching anyone's else's car, without a rear cam, with shit piled up in the back of your station wagon...
  84. >You get the idea
  85. >You run inside and manage to clock in only three minutes late
  86. >Which is actually fine, since the system follows a 7-8 rounding scheme
  87. >You pull on your apron from the rack, put on the logo cap, and stride out to your till.
  88. >About five minutes into your shift, you get a bagger. The bagger comes with baggage.
  89. >"Anon, this is... Jennifer. He- er, she will be training on the till and bagging for you today."
  90. >You look into the dead eyes of the unsightly tranny before you
  91. >Hold out a hand, shake.
  92. >It's what a boomer would consider a good handshake. Firm, and long.
  93. >You detail the logon procedure for the till, show her the different submenus for pay by weight, coupons and what to do if someone comes in with a paycheck
  94. >Before you can show her how to reprint receipts or how to refresh the printer thermal head you have customers
  95. >She struggles with some of the bagging fundamentals, you watch
  96. >It's nothing really stupid like putting a watermelon or a jug of milk on top of eggs, but she nearly stacks a big box of crackers on top of a loaf of bread.
  97. >Everywhere there are tells about what sort of person anyone is, that's absolutely one of them.
  98. >She's a bit of a slob.
  99. >You don't blame her, but she won't last long if she doesn't correct that sort of behavior. As depressing as it is, this is actually a position that's in high demand.
  100. >You gently correct the error before it happens. You don't blame her, you used to be somewhat the same.
  101. >You've become a pro at it, zoning out just enough to get a read on everything but not so much to torque your brain gears fully.
  102. >You can jerk right back to attention at a moment's notice if need be, but this job is not mentally demanding
  103. >Before you know it, it's noon. One of the managers takes the first break at noon, and the two of you are relieved half an hour later
  104. >Normally the rule is one employee break at a time, but you've seen this happen many times before.
  105. >They can't legally have you work on your break, but you are /expected/ to continue running Jenny through the ropes while you two eat.
  106. >"What's good here? I didn't pack a box lunch."
  107. >Her voice training is okay, at least. Come to think of it, her stubble might also be the result of a worn razor.
  108. "I didn't either. Everything, really; but that's with the caveat that it's all expensive. Were you keeping an eye on the prices of groceries?"
  109. >She nods.
  110. "The deli items are twice as expensive. At least."
  111. >"Fuck."
  112. "Yeah. I know a decently priced place, it's just a block down the road. You can ride shotgun if you want."
  113. >"You think we can be back in thirty?"
  114. "No, but I think we can be back in thirty-seven."
  115. >You say that as you two exit the building, you're not really supposed to tell the new hires about the rounding.
  116. >"Then please, part of the reason I left my job at bestbuy is that this place pays better and my car is on the mend. Took the bus here."
  117. "No prob then."
  118. >You clear your CDs out of the passenger seat and unlock it for her, getting on the road towards your favorite lunch joint
  119. >You never really see anyone new there.
  120. >Obviously a mob joint, but with prices and food this good? None of the 5-6 regulars are going to complain.
  121. >You stride in, Jenny awkwardly following you.
  122. >"Anon, good to see you. I thought you'd finally left us behind. Got another customer today?"
  123. "Ha, no. And yeah. Training her at the grocer."
  124. >Carmelo tells her how the place works, it's essentially a small buffet of Italian food.
  125. >You can get pizza or the day's fresh pasta, both with as many variations as you can dream of.
  126. >Freshly cooked, never any line, never any fuss.
  127. >It's worth noting that the place is literally situated inside of a neighborhood, way the hell out of the way. Has like 1-3 online reviews, all of them complaining up a storm
  128. >Likely all paid off so the place stays pleasant for the few who do show up, and under the radar for whatever shady activity the place launders money for.
  129. >You get the tortellini alfredo and Jenny gets the meatlover's pizza, the two of you seat at an empty booth
  130. "Swear this is one of the only good things left in the area."
  131. >"I know what you mean. It's all so expensive, feels like everything exists purely to cater to the tech workers, the trust fund babies, and the all of the above."
  132. "And then there's us."
  133. >"Ha... don't lump me in with you so quickly... I'd have been a trust fund baby if not for..."
  134. >She gestures at herself and you nod. It's fairly clear what happened.
  135. >"Got a nice car at least, for what it's worth. Not much, the taxes are steep and the repairs are too. Anyways, I got the sense they wanted you to train me more over lunch?"
  136. "Yeah... it sucks, but you guessed correctly. There are a few things they'll have you do in addition to the till operations, and you'll be expected to bag..."
  137. >You check your phone clock, still good on time
  138. >You go into the trash bags, the compactor in the employee area, the box crusher
  139. >As you're just starting to get into the nuances of bathroom assignments (especially when you're doing it alone and have to do both of them) when she brushes her left bang away and you freeze.
  140. >"Yeah, I know. I'm fucking unsightly. Thanks."
  141. "No... um. Lift your bang again."
  142. >She groans as she does so, good mood clearly spoiled. You lean in and whisper the following:
  143.  
  144. "You've been a pony recently."
  145. >Before she can say something stupid, you discretely pull up your hat a bit and show her the same telltale scar that she has on her forehead.
  146. >Where her horn retracted one too many times back into her skull and the skin didn't quite heal for god knows what reason. Everything else could be perfect, but go pony too often? You'll get scars on your back if you're a pegasus, and a single point on your forehead if you're a unicorn.
  147. >You have all three scars, of course. A fool's alicorn, if you will, spread across a bicentennial and a quarter different bodies.
  148. "Do you have them on your back...?"
  149. >"I- yes."
  150. >You take a moment to compose yourself, think about how to carry this. Don't want to freak her out, don't want to come off as weird.
  151. "I haven't found anybody else who really likes Flatrock. Would you like to come over tonight? Pony down, maybe watch a movie together?"
  152. >The speed at which she replies is somewhat surprising, the offer has hardly left your mouth before she nods vigorously
  153. >As by some form of unspoken agreement, the two of you shift directly back into the discussion of grocery store work.
  154. >When you both return from lunch and clock back in, she's called to learn about cart retrieval from one of the staff members who's mostly janitorial
  155. >But you'll get off at the same time, you checked her schedule
  156. >You're finally going to get low with someone else tonight.
  157. >
  158. >
  159. >
  160. >"Which do you prefer?"
  161. >You and Jenny are on the beat-up couch next to each other in your apartment, the both of you holding on to drinks and avoiding eye contact.
  162. "Hm?"
  163. >You're fine with screwdrivers, but your new friend is more of a sweet tooth. You stopped by a cheaper grocery store on the way and she picked up a pack of seltzer
  164. >"Stallions or mares?"
  165. "To be, or not to be?"
  166. >"Ha. To be, obviously."
  167. "Mares. You're not going to shill hormones to me, are you?"
  168. >She looks down
  169. >"I don't think you'd detest it, but you seem to have your shit more together than I do. No comment, generally speaking"
  170. "If I do, it's a facade."
  171. >You take in a large sip from the glass, watch the screwdriver curtains flow back down
  172. >"I think everyone feels that way, it's the illusory outer shell... are you sure you're okay with me taking your meds?"
  173. "Yeah, of course. Anyone who likes hooftripping can't be that bad."
  174. >"Not so sure about that, but I promise I'll try to be good. Between making ends meet and the car repairs I've had to cut back a lot, just want you to know this is really cool of you to do."
  175. >Rambling. Maybe you're being an asshole, but you can tell she's nervous. Used to be something you'd do when stressed.
  176. >You throw back the screwdriver, make another one real quick, and start sipping at it
  177. >Then you wash out last night's squeeze bottle, and fill it with two seltzers
  178. >You sit back down and hand it to her
  179. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're nervous. Any good ways you have to sort that out?"
  180. >The importance of mindset is understood, she nods.
  181. >"Generally, I drink a bit, put on some comfortable clothes, and try to pretend that I'm somewhere else."
  182. "Hmm. Well, I don't have many comfortable clothes, but I do have a throw blanket and some old stuffed animals. Any of that sound good?"
  183. >"Blanket sounds great, stuffed animals only if they're sort of huggable"
  184. >You drape it over her and she starts to take her clothes off
  185. >You pretend not to notice/care
  186. "Want to watch the evening news for a few minutes while we unwind a bit?"
  187. >"Sure, but I'm not positive that'll help us unwind"
  188. >You do it regardless, catching snippets of the news
  189. >'Two more found dead with connections to Picnic Collective...'
  190. >'Paralympics to be delayed after athlete found to have self-mutilated spine fifteen years prior...'
  191. >After 5 minutes there's an ad break and you flip the channel to adult swim, which is showing a new episode of rick and morty
  192. >You turn the television off immediately
  193. >Jenny looks more chilled out now, at least.
  194. >You take two pills from the old fluoxetine bottle you keep hidden in the cushions
  195. >It's funny to think about, this is only the second time you've withdrawn two Flatrock at once
  196. >You will not be thinking about the last time, and so it's bottoms up for your share
  197. >As it travels down your esophagus you hand the other one to Jenny, which she takes and swallows without liquid
  198. >"So, now we wait."
  199. >You snort
  200. "I can't believe you just said that. We're both practically pros"
  201. >"Yeah, we earned our horns and everything"
  202. >She rolls her eyes at you
  203. "It's impressive in a pathetic sort of way. We're the two most fucked-up people in the room."
  204. >You flip on the TV, tune in to one of those late-night channels that shows PG edits of good movies.
  205. >Right now, it's Robocop. You're distinctly a little ticked off, they keep panning away from all the gore and all the cussing is replaced in a badly cheesy way that doesn't match the intentional tone of the film.
  206. >"It's fucked-up in a fucked-up sort of way. Anyways, do you normally get mares?"
  207. "Yeah. I haven't settled on an exact formula for it, but most of the time I end up a mare or a rather mare-like stallion. You?"
  208. >"I barely remember the only time I didn't get a mare, I think I had a panic attack and then dropped acid"
  209. >She laughs, you chuckle a little hesitantly
  210. >"It's okay to laugh, it's funny. Stupid. Shouldn't have bothered me so much..."
  211. "It's understandable. You... it's starting."
  212. >"I'll probably be along in a minute. You took yours first"
  213. >You watch as your fingers start to congeal into what superficially appears to be a putty-esque mass.
  214. >This illusion is perpetrated by your bad habit of moving your fingers about while they merge
  215. >Doing so almost always guarantees that an ordeal of mild discomfort and mild pain that your familiarity with the process would usually mitigate takes place
  216. >You wince as your fingers feel as if they are being /crushed/ into each other, it's sort of like a horrible cramp
  217. >and as soon as it has begun, it's over. Your left hand is now a diminuitive hoof in tan, your coat not yet having grown in yet
  218. >You're a little bit awkward about watching a naked person go pony, but you do glance over at Jenny every 30 seconds or so to ensure that she's handling it well
  219. >She looks relaxed enough as a pair of wings sprout from the side of the blanket
  220. >You make out a sigh
  221. >Her eyes are closed, so you feel less weird about observing further
  222. >Beneath the blanket, you can see her gradually shrinking, turning into a little pegasus
  223. >Merlot red, hm. She sprouts the coat much earlier than you do.
  224. >Her mane comes in around the time yours does, your vision becoming obscured by a mess of greens and blacks and hers coming out almost white... grey?
  225. >It almost looks translucent, but it's illusory. You can't see her scalp.
  226. >Is it like a morpho wing? You remember reading something about them getting their color from microscopic structures that reflect light in a weird way.
  227. >"Oh my god. Your coat..."
  228. "Yeah. Jesus, it's ugly."
  229. >"Your body is nice at least."
  230. "The coat makes me think of ben 10"
  231. >She snorts
  232. >"It started when an alien device-"
  233. "Don't you fucking start"
  234. >You smile at her, you two teasing each other...
  235. >It reminds you of when you used to have friends
  236. >God, how long has it been? College before you dropped out?
  237. >High school?
  238. >Her voice is pleasant, all the strain and edge that generally come with the territory are gone.
  239. >Complete conversion
  240. >She walks across the couch cushions towards you with ease, dodging the random springs that are poking out from the ancient thing
  241. >There are a bunch of videos online of normies trying Flatrock and then making complete asses of themselves, tripping all over the pavement and having an awful time
  242. >The drug has gotten a weird reputation because of that, people don't realize it's not a party drug. Not really
  243. >It's meant for small social gatherings, among close friends...
  244. >And whatever this is, fucking... taking someone you barely know into your house and doing a controlled substance together
  245. >You know you've made the right choice when she touches you
  246. >It's a small thing, just a brush of her hoof against the side of your muzzle, but it kicks neurotransmitters you didn't even know you still had the capabilities to produce into immediate overdrive
  247. >The two of you speak in unison, it's almost creepy, but feels anything but
  248. >"Soo ssofft..."
  249. >She collapses on top of you and you wrap your forehooves around her
  250. >The two of you sigh as your coats make contact, all tension and anxiety immediately evaporating
  251. >She landed a little bit awkwardly and something hard is pressed into your left foreleg, but she adjusts a second later and that too is gone
  252. >"You're kinda pretty up close, your facial structure is nice"
  253. "Y-you too"
  254. >She dropped your bottle on the couch when she collapsed on you, she picks it up now and swings her head back, fluid audibly flowing into her muzzle
  255. >"Wanna sip?"
  256. "Sure, in a minute. Right now I'm just..."
  257. >"Yeah."
  258. >She rests her head next to yours and you wrap your forehooves around her to a happy sound that almost comes out like a purr
  259. >"This is nice."
  260. "Mmm..."
  261.  
  262. >Be ???????
  263. "This sucks."
  264. >"I told you to bring glowsticks."
  265. >You let out an audible groan and free your middle finger to the cold bitch
  266. >She just gives you that smile, the one you hate
  267. >"Unless you want to leave behind your Lantern to check the distance down..."
  268. >You take the leap of faith to shut her up.
  269. >Your thick boots scramble at the straight but rough wall as you catch yourself by only your arms
  270. >As you try to gather your footing, scrabbling and slipping fast, Faia catches you
  271. >"A thank you would be nice."
  272. "Firstly, fuck your mother. Secondly..."
  273. >She swats at you playfully, then straightens her face
  274. >"Can you put down your Lantern? I think the EM field levels just spiked."
  275. >You walk across the small maintenance suite and squat like a stereotypical slav. You aren't far off.
  276. >"False alarm, dropped back down to ambiant."
  277. "I swear, you with that thing. Twice we've gone hunting an artifact now and it's just been the cook-end of a fucking cell tower. You know how deadly radio is, don't you?"
  278. >"Which one of us has the amateur license again?"
  279. >Strikes more of a nerve than it should
  280. "My qualifications are why you brought me here."
  281. >"Do you want to go back to donating plasma for petty cash, or are you going to scale that ladder for me? Got another spike."
  282. >You grumble more as you do so, cursing Faia under your breath.
  283. >It's rusted near through, but you're tiny. Rail-thin, barely 100 american pounds.
  284. >Roughly 45 kilo.
  285. >The Lantern casts ominous shadows on the walls as you go, the helical shape of the electric-seeming source inside creating the strange patterns
  286. >Right now it's around a red. Highest you've seen it was a blue, when a Picnicker was nearby.
  287. >When you went back to the same site in the light of day not only were all the artifacts gone, but three federal agents were butchered and strung up on the wall
  288. "Found it."
  289. >"Any hazard?"
  290. "Red-orange. We can go home after I harvest, it's a Clarified cluster."
  291. >You produce an empty prescription bottle and begin to pick the little gelatin capsules off of the tree.
  292. >More would grow back if you were careful, but new sites are always being discovered and old sites are almost always booby-trapped, picked clean by urbex teenagers and people of a job description similar to yours.
  293. >Not worth taking the 'plant' itself, the gamma leaks slow but is still a problem and doesn't extend to the pills of the "fruiting body".
  294. >You wipe each pill carefully with a glass cleaning cloth before dropping it in the bottle, your hands are filthy from the exploration.
  295. >When you and Faia get back, you'll bathe them in UV. Kill anything that remains on the surface so they can be sold.
  296. >
  297. >
  298. >
  299. >You rub your thumbs against the tax stamp machined into the metal surface of your Lantern as Jamie serializes everything Faia is willing to give up.
  300. >It's illegal to conceal artifacts when turning in, but it's also non-admissable for federals to check V/m^2 while collecting.
  301. >Some still do, but it's never more than an argument; you are not paid enough for the serials alone.
  302. >So as long as the two of you don't get caught shipping out Clarified and Flatrock...
  303. >"Everything seems to be in order. Faia, Gena, good work."
  304. >You narrow your eyes. You don't like Jamie's nicknames.
  305. "Gennadi."
  306. >He ignores you
  307. >"Here's the pay, lump-sum as requested. When are you two lovebirds getting married?"
  308. >"When are you going to stop fucking your dog and get a real girlfriend?"
  309. >Jamie, betraying his normally stoney demeanor when insulted, exhales out of his nostrils as his mouth turns up in a smile.
  310. >"Been finding a lot of empty stems lately. Want to drop it, or explain what that's all about?"
  311. >Faia laughs it off with a borrowed:
  312. >"Fuck your mother."
  313. >and then the two of you are off. You drive while your girlfriend counts the cash the NEA agent handed over.
  314. >It's an old acronym.
  315. >An outdated one, from back when humanity thought the artifacts were a footnote
  316. >You expect that if the United States survives the next 10 years, it'll get the 'OSS' treatment and be dissolved, liquidated, and brought back up under a more updated name.
  317. >'National Classical Mechanics Administration' is a name you've heard thrown around.
  318. >It would fit better than the "Non-Euclid Authority"
  319. >Especially as the agency's authority evaporates.
  320. >As you pack up the Lantern Faia packs away the Clarified, Flatrock, and Cubic you found tonight into separate drawers. Each is filled with no less than 12 packs of Silicon Dioxide gel, ensuring the pills stay nice and dry
  321. >She leaves one on the counter for you while she pops a clarified.
  322. >You wash your face, remove your clothes, and press into her.
  323. >These are the only times you truly see Faia as a vulnerable creature. Shifting into one of the ponies while your growing horsecock pierces her nethers.
  324. >Even so, she never moans. Just stares at you in silent ecstacy as the two of you become animals in each other's embrace.
  325.  
  326. >Be Anonymous.
  327. >That's what they told you to be. Keep it quiet and you won't be a freak.
  328. >Won't be...
  329. >You stare down at Jenny. She's still sleeping peacefully, the two of your now very human bodies wrapped around each other.
  330. >It's kinda weird because your dicks are resting close to each other.
  331. >and because she hasn't shaved her body recently, other than the face.
  332. >Last night was Friday.
  333. >It is the weekend
  334. >and yet, you both have work in less than an hour.
  335. >You pull yourself up from the couch, waking your new friend in the process
  336. >"Whuh... huh?"
  337. "We have work this morning, sorry."
  338. >"Oh fuck... I forgot."
  339. "You're pretty clean right now."
  340. >Flatrock normally freezes the state of cleanliness your body was in before using
  341. >"Yeah... but I feel weird if I don't have a morning shower even after using. Do you mind?"
  342. "Go ahead. Can't miss the bathroom."
  343. >She's too sleepy to laugh at your 'joke' but stumbles down the length of the apartment to the restroom
  344. >It's a little bit of a mess in there with your toiletries, but it's not dirty or anything.
  345. >You look away out of respect as she walks in and shuts the door, the sound of flowing water filling the room soon after
  346. >You wash your face in the kitchen sink and pull your uniform back on from the couch. You also go ahead and fold Jenny's uniform so it's ready for her when she gets out.
  347. >The former mare you cuddled with emerges a few minutes later, this time wearing your towel.
  348. >The pretense of pony innocence found after sleep is gone, it's all business now.
  349. >"Since you were kind enough to let me sleep over and share your meds, I'll get breakfast?"
  350. "You sure? I don't want you to feel like you owe me for that. I had a nice time too."
  351. >She smiles warmly at you
  352. >"I'll pay three quarters then?"
  353. "Sounds good"
  354. >You and Jenny find yourselves seated in the booth of a waffle house a block or two from work, dressed in grocery attire
  355. >You both elect to order coffee, neither fully awake just yet
  356. >There was nothing inherently sexual about what happened last night, but there's still the slight tinge of awkwardness. The waitress fills up both of your coffees
  357. >You take yours with sugar, no cream. A holdover from your fluctuating ability to process dairy
  358. >Jenny goes heavy on the cream.
  359. >She didn't ask to use your razor but you're fine that she did, she looks a lot prettier without the slight scruffiness here and there on her body
  360. >Human hair isn't as kind as pony fluff
  361. >"So..."
  362. "I had a good time."
  363. >"I did too, it's just..."
  364. >You let her take a hurried sip, the coffee is still probably too hot but you learn to deal with it
  365. >"I don't know, this is all new for me. I know barely anything about you."
  366. "Honestly? I'm pretty fucking boring."
  367. >"Hm? How so?"
  368. "My music tastes are fringe, but most people you'll meet online these days are the same and you could argue my taste is algorithmically spoon-fed."
  369. >"I like Taylor Swift."
  370. "Some of her songs are alright, yeah. You've heard she used to be a /b/tard, right?"
  371. >"Damn, that's crazy. Do you... use that site?"
  372. "Yeah."
  373. >"Me too..."
  374. >The two of you sit awkwardly for a few minutes. It's long enough for the food to arrive, and then of course you both dig in.
  375. >Uncharacteristic to the standard 'polite' meal practice, the conversation picks back up again over the food
  376. >"So, normie. What's the weirdest thing you've ever done?"
  377. "On or off the pills?"
  378. >"Let's say your whole life."
  379. "Do pony lives count as different lives?"
  380. >"No! This isn't a philosophical discussion. Well, maybe it kinda is. Not in that way."
  381. "It's pretty obviously something I did while I was a pony. It was actually the night before we met, I was um..."
  382. >"Do I really want to know, actually?"
  383. "Good point."
  384. >The table goes silent again until Jenny starts infodumping about a recreation of space paranoids, that game from the original tron movie
  385. >Apparently she's got a particular interest in replicating the filter as authentically as possible, down to the grainy backlit glow on everything
  386. >Which involves a lot of shader work, it's something you don't really know much about and generally you're happy to have someone who shares key interests with you excitedly yapping your ear off
  387. >The two of you are having such a good time you're nearly late for work
  388. >The agreement from this morning is forgotten as you hurry to pay the bill and get back on the road
  389. >You park on the edge of the lot, it's still dark outside. There are the scattered employee cars here and there, but generally it's just the two of you
  390. >Jenny surprises you with a peck on the cheek
  391. >"You have the day off tomorrow too?"
  392. "No... but I could burn a vacation day if I brought it up like... right after clocking in"
  393. >"I want to repay you, tomorrow. You and me at my place. Old video games. Snacks. Then getting low."
  394. "Are you serious?"
  395. >"Yeah."
  396. >She eyes you over, seeing the look in your eyes and grinning
  397. >"See you then, then!"
  398. >and just like that she gets out of the car and start walking
  399. >This anticipation... today is gonna suck.
  400. >Be Jenny
  401. >How do you even go back to work after something like that?
  402. >The dopamine high hit you so fucking hard that you /kissed/ him.
  403. >and there's no fucking way he'll ever invite you back to his place after that but...
  404. >No, you've built up this momentum. You either carry it to your destination, or you crash and burn on the side of the highway.
  405. >Anon is a few minutes behind you as you clock in, just barely making the cutoff he told you about yesterday.
  406. >You won't see him again until lunch, the two of you are scheduled together again thank Celestia
  407. >No, you're on morning restocking duty.
  408. >Since you don't know where half the shit is yet, you're paired with a nice enough girl of the biological variety named Sarah
  409. >Like most retail work, it's the sort of thing that leaves your mind free to wander and ponder while your hands focus on the monotonous labor of placing chips and formula containers in their designated, corporate-mandated areas
  410. >They told you you could be anything
  411. >You suspect they did not mean a cartoon horse by that.
  412. >Sarah seems to be somewhat familiar with the provocations of your particular sort and dances around them with ease
  413. >You wouldn't particularly care if she referred to you as male, it would hurt, but it's a pain you've grown numb enough to that it's tolerable
  414. >She doesn't, but she also seems unable to come up with a conversational topic that you two have any sort of common-ground on.
  415. >The work is done in near complete silence other than occasional minor corrections about shelf placements of certain items
  416. >God he was a cute mare.
  417. >You're tired and thirsty already, props to drinking the night before work you suppose
  418. >After excusing yourself, you find yourself locked in the men's restroom
  419. >Many such cases
  420. >You rinse your face off a little, drink cold water from the sink, and try to find the strength within you to return to this shit
  421. >After stuffing your inner pony deep down once more you trudge back out to the shelves
  422. >
  423. >
  424. >
  425. >"What's up?"
  426. "How do you do it? How do you get back up and just... go at it after getting low?"
  427. >"Oh, yeah... good question. Mostly I think about how all the fun shit in life costs money."
  428. "That's one way to motivate I suppose."
  429. >You take a bite of your mushroom ravioli, this place really must be a mob front.
  430. >It's quite good, you feel your mood improving
  431. >If only mildly
  432. "Sorry if I was a bit forward this morning, I-"
  433. >"No, no. Don't worry about it."
  434. >He pauses for a second
  435. >"It was very pony-like. I suppose the distinction is somewhat obvious between us, but I feel as if you carry more pony energy with you on the day-to-day."
  436. "What, because I look like this? I guess I do kinda look like somebody drained all the color out of a pride parade"
  437. >"Nah, not really. I just mean the way you carry yourself, your mannerisms, like... you aren't crushed quite like the rest of us."
  438. "I'm not so sure that's a good thing... being crushed is what sort of lets you... just zone into the rat race and 'function' as a member of society."
  439. >"Yeah, but think! What if you ever get to go full-time? You'll be absolutely perfect. I know for damn sure I'll take some adjustment if I ever do"
  440. "Ugh, but that in and of itself is a pipe dream!"
  441. >You lower your voice a little bit
  442. "This isn't a greentext Anon, it's reality. We really have to get up in the morning and go to work. Masters are a nice fantasy but what... are we really going to expect one to come along and save us from reality?"
  443. >"I've not given up hope."
  444. >You sigh
  445. "You're just as delusional as me are, yeah..?"
  446. >"The sky is orange and everything is okay."
  447. "Real. Anyways uh... about tomorrow"
  448. >"If you need to cancel-"
  449. "No, no. Nothing like that, just... what kind of snacks do you like? I want to make sure we're stocked."
  450. >"Chips kinda suck as a pony because they're greasy as hell. I like to prepare a bowl of peanut butter pretzels sometimes"
  451. "Cool beans. I'll get like two bags"
  452. >"I think they usually come in containers, sometimes I have trouble finding them"
  453. "Don't even worry about it."
  454. >You tap your forehead and grin
  455. "I've been restocking crap all morning, I shalved like 10 bags half an hour ago."
  456. >"Damn. Well, I don't mean at our store. Like I said, we're prety expensive and like... for everything but the stuff we make in-house it's kinda sorta not worth the price"
  457. "Pff, how much could a thing of peanut butter pretzels be?"
  458. >"You'll get a feel for the exorbitant prices pretty soon. Seven. Dollars."
  459. "For peanut butter pretzels? That's like... what an entire week's worth of lunch meat costs at a high-end store"
  460. >"Yeah, but the weirdo Richie Riches in the nearby neighborhood won't feel satisfied if they aren't pissing away their husband's hard-earned money while he's at the combination embezzlement and nepotism factory."
  461. "So, where do you get your groceries? I go to food lion most of the time."
  462. >"Yeah, me too. Swing by after work?"
  463. "Sounds good. Thanks for driving me around while my car's screwed up"
  464. >"Not a problem. Say, what's with those guys on the street?"
  465. "Fucking hell, get down. Now!"
  466. >You hit the deck as the lights go out in the restaurant
  467. >A single gunshot rings out and a woman can be heard screaming in pain outside.
  468. >Another shot rings out and the screaming stops
  469. >You awkwardly clutch Anon's hand on the dirty floor, you really don't want to die here
  470. >The sound of someone jiggling the doorknob loudly eminates
  471. >Then the sound of glass breaking and a bolt turning
  472. >A rough voice brings the tension to a crescendo:
  473. >"Carmelo. If you cough it up quick, I won't liquidate your customers."
  474.  
  475. >Be Anon
  476. >"I don't know what you're talking about."
  477. >You look up from the floor.
  478. >There's some guy wearing a balaclava and-
  479. >Oh. It's a Picnicker.
  480. >Without speaking, he raises the device and fires it into the kitchen.
  481. >There's an earshattering crash immediately after the room fills with light. Something has exploded
  482. >"Next one won't be an oven. Fork it over, chef."
  483. >Jenny laughs at the stupid joke and the Picnicker stares daggers into her
  484. >"What's so funny you're willing to die for it, faggot?"
  485. >Jenny sits up, oh god. She's going to get herself killed.
  486. >You say nothing and watch as she lazily points to one portion of the mechanism on the device
  487. >"I bet there's an artifact in there that acts like a capacitor. You're interested in energy artifacts."
  488. >He slowly nods, and to your shock actually lowers the death ray.
  489. >"To direct energy along the channel, you need long strands of wire. Easy enough to acquire, easy enough to implement in a mechanical sense. Somewhat trickier to fire, do you use compressed air?"
  490. >"Compressed N-2-O. Really easy to get ahold of these days and decent oomph. I recharge it every day with like 8 whip-its"
  491. >"Siiick. You built it yourself, right?"
  492. >"Yep, custom machined. Custom CAD modeled. Assembled by me."
  493. >"I like the way you did the texturing on the pistol grip, heh. Were they extruded cut patterned or imprint patterned?"
  494. >"Imprint. I find imprint patterning is a good way to reduce load times. I use kind of an old laptop for my design rig"
  495. >"Yeah, I getcha. You lose a little bit of dimensional accuracy when you treat CAD/CAM as the same thing, but it really doesn't matter for texturing."
  496. >The Picnicker nods, still just as fucking big and imposing of a dude.
  497. >"But dude? Mild critique."
  498. >"Let's hear it."
  499. >"When you next siege a public place, the lightning gun is awesome! It hits like a truck. It blows shit up. Hell, I bet it even has a similar effect to a grenade launcher's kill radius just due to high-voltage arcing!"
  500. >"It does!"
  501. >There's excitement in the man's voice
  502. >"But just one critique... from a military fan to an engineering fan... bro, your weapon befits a specialist role."
  503. >"How do you mean?"
  504. >"I'll explain how. Despite how you've made a show of firing your weapon, is it ready to fire again right now?"
  505. >"Yes."
  506. >"No."
  507. >"You dare?"
  508. >"I do. You haven't reloaded your charge cart. What is it... small TIG weld electrode?"
  509. >"and how would you know that?"
  510. >"Because the wire is still hanging out of the kitchen. Next time, bring an AK. Slap Whatever optics you like on it. If you get into an altercation with that thing, you're going to eventually get yourself killed"
  511. >He looks deep in thought for a solid minute at that.
  512. >The line drops to the ground as a shrill sound rings out, still smoldering as the man walks over to Jenny
  513. >He drops a business card in front of her and then leaves the restaurant.
  514. >Carmelo just looks at you two like you're from outer space
  515. >"You both eat here free from now on. Go back to work, this never happened."
  516. >
  517. >
  518. >
  519. >You give Jenny a ride back to her apartment, mostly in silent thought yourself.
  520. >You nearly died earlier today, after all
  521. >You'd expect her to be either silent and contemplative or giddy with excitement, but she just seems chilled out. She's discussing plans as you swing into the food lion on the way.
  522. >What snacks to get tomorrow, movies she knows that seem like they'll hit good while low, mixed drinks...
  523. >You snap.
  524. "How can you act like everything is normal? I don't mean to kill the vibes, but if that went any poorer we would have died."
  525. >"We would have. Thankfully, I happen to know what I'm doing."
  526. "Okay. Can you explain?"
  527. >"Are you familiar with autism?"
  528. "Are you..."
  529. >You trail off into kind of an exasperated sigh.
  530. "The fuck do you mean am I familiar with autism? I know YOU."
  531. >She looks a little bit genuinely hurt by that
  532. "Sorry, it's..."
  533. >"No, it's okay. That did hurt but I suppose I should've explained myself earlier."
  534. >You're parked at the store by now, but the two of you sit in the car for a minute.
  535. >This hardly seems the sort of thing to discuss in public
  536. >"Different disorders mean different mental structures. Different mental structures mean different interests. Different dreams, desires, difficulties... you know all of this I'm sure but it helps to set the stage."
  537. >You nod
  538. >"There is no greater hit of natural ecstacy to an autistic than to have their passion recognized. The Picnickers... all of the lower-level grunts at least, are almost all autistics. They're all different types of autistics, but you don't join a group with a name like that without being a bit of a weirdo"
  539. "How can you be so sure?"
  540. >"The sense of pride. The general hackneyed nature of it all."
  541. "/How can you be so sure?/"
  542. >"Because I have five more of those fucking business cards back at my place. They never hit the same place twice, but they tend to raid places that either sell electronics or are hiding an artifact. I've worked at like three different electronics stores over the past few years"
  543. "and how did you know they wouldn't /kill/ you this time?"
  544. >"I guess I didn't, but they seem to have a code of some sort. NEA agents die because they shoot first and ask questions later. I live because I ask questions and don't carry a gun"
  545. >You sigh
  546. "Okay. Want to get some snack foods?"
  547. >"You bet. Want to start the party tonight instead of tomorrow?"
  548. "Yeah... okay. I probably won't be sleeping tonight otherwise..."
  549. Three days prior
  550.  
  551. >Be...
  552. >You had a human name and body once
  553. >Your first given name, unremembered
  554. >Your pony name, almost seeming a mockery at times
  555. >It's not enough that you only dream and think in english now, the effects of the PC-909 pills have taken away what was once a central tenant of your identity
  556. >There was a thrill to it at first, being dehumanized. Being made a sexual tool.
  557. >You find yourself avoiding alcohol, only leaving your darkened room to talk with your father and eat
  558. >He's been growing more worried about you, but you both have your traumas. He knows where not to press
  559. >Hot air exits your equine nostrils as you realize that you fucked up the syntax again, you've got a love for flavor text in ui elements
  560. >You forgot to exchange the fancy quotes for compiler readable quotes
  561. >It's not a huge deal, but your journey into programming sometimes feels as though it has been stratified into tiny little niggling anxieties like this
  562. >It's not like you're stupid...
  563. >It's just...
  564. >It...
  565. >Iridescent, you're spiraling again.
  566. >You work on your breathing exercises
  567. >Deep inhale through the nostrils, deep exhale through the mouth
  568. >You really do love your body, it's soft and pretty and nearly perfect
  569. >They were able to remove the fragment of skull from your eye safely, your cornea healed within a few days
  570. >Your ear...
  571. >You can feel them flop down in dejection, it's not even optional anymore
  572. >Whenever you get to thinking about that night
  573. >You were fully okay with dying in the moment
  574. >It hardly matters that you were wasted, you still agreed with him that you were both better off dead
  575. >Using the weird two-ball keyboard that you'd heard suggested on a few forums, you navigate to your interior lighting program and turn on the desk lamp
  576. >Then you tab into obs and turn on your webcam
  577. >You almost hate how natural the ear looks, the wound was properly managed by one of the better doctors that remained in the country
  578. >The fluff has grown back in to the point where if it were mirrored across your head, it would pass as one of those odd, minor morphological glitches that sometimes comes with Clarified
  579. >A lot of pony pets with such 'quirks' have become minor online celebrities
  580. >Like a three-legged cat or a dog with a weird bark...
  581. >The difference is that ponies have the same intellectual capabilities as humans. Your programming skills have only improved as you've had time to dedicate yourself to them in the permanent twilight of blackout curtains and darkened studies
  582. >That is not to say, of course, that ponies have the same minds as humans.
  583. >You have known ever since you first found yourself in this body that something finally felt right about the form, even under the horrific circumstances
  584. >Sometimes a silver lining can subsume you.
  585. >You wouldn't even say it made you something new, just...
  586. >Decrypted a partition
  587. "You fucking dork..."
  588. >That's one that doesn't translate amazingly to russian
  589. >It's a bit too harsh of a language
  590. >You smell something sweet wafting into your room from nearby...
  591. >There's a soft knocking and the sound of a plate being set down
  592. >You wait until the footsteps fade to retrieve it and clear away space for it
  593. >Blueberry pancakes, and a message in russian
  594. >Roughly translates to 'I'd like to talk, are you free in three hours?'
  595. >As you finish up your meal, you turn the index card over and write a simple 'Да'
  596. >So much to do this week... you need to go from being a basement-dwelling shut-in to giving a speech that will inspire 'your people' to make the final push to drive the Americans out of Russia
  597. >Or something along those lines... you're not even a figurehead. You're the progeny of a figurehead, draped in technicality
  598. >Putin's head still hangs from the same spike they put it on, it's supposed to inspire rage
  599. >You mourn your sister and mother, you don't mourn the president
  600. >Doesn't matter, speech still needs to be done.
  601. >You wipe your mouth and then restart the first draft for the fourth time
  602. >It need not come from the heart or even be true...
  603. >It only needs to strike a nerve in the hearts of the war-torn masses. Drive them beyond reason. Push enlistments higher.
  604. >It isn't your father's idea either, in fact he doesn't really want anything to do with it all
  605. >You're both still grieving
  606. >'One year ago today, an American nearly took my life. I have the mark to prove it. Only through the grace of god was I saved'
  607. >People will fight and die for god, right?
  608. >How did your life come to this...
  609. >You reach for one of the swiss chocolates you keep nearby at all times nowadays
  610. >You spiral enough for them to be effectively calorie-neutral, and they're one of the only noticeable hits of dopaminergic activity you've felt this week, so you've been cherishing them immensely.
  611.  
  612. >Be Jenny
  613. "Do you think that's everything?"
  614. >"We've got the shitty beer-"
  615. "Hard seltzer"
  616. >"We've got the shitty beer, the pretzels, the cough syrup- which may I add, I am not drinking."
  617. "To each their own"
  618. >"Isn't there a better way to consume it, anyways?"
  619. "Yeah, but I kinda maxxed out my constitution a few years back by abusing alcohol. When it's vomit or die, I vomit. Not often that I do so otherwise. Ready to check out?"
  620. >"Sure, I'll pay since you got breakfast"
  621. "Most of breakfast."
  622. >"I'll pay"
  623. >You feel sorta awkward just standing there while Anon rings shit up at the self-checkout terminal, but it's a feeling you've learned to suppress somewhat.
  624. >Letting nice people do nice things for you is, for lack of a better word, kewl.
  625. >You run your thumbnail over the worn brass surface of your housekey, a little click emanating every time you run over a bump.
  626. >You know there's a locksmithing term for them, but the youtube algorithm doesn't push career locksmithing content, only destructive locksmithing content, so you do not know it.
  627. >Good and bad, that. Many such cases.
  628. >Many such things entangled.
  629. >Shit sandwiches. They expect you to eat the shit.
  630. >You don't watch much youtube these days.
  631. >"Space cadet?"
  632. "Aaaaaa sorry. Reporting for duty."
  633. >"Let's party."
  634. >
  635. >
  636. >
  637. >Be Anon
  638. >Jenny's apartment is...
  639. >To the untrained eye, it would be a mess.
  640. >Given that she just all but told you she's autistic, you give her some benefit and look before judging
  641. >It's still a mess. You are judging some.
  642. >But you can see the functionality of it.
  643. >The floor is clean, as is the couch
  644. >The bedside table is literally just a chest with an alarm clock and various bedside access items scattered about atop
  645. >The bed is an air mattress...
  646. >There are clear spots where it has been patched.
  647. >A clear path from the couch to the bed has been carved out, looking into the kitchenette you see a series of what look like mild disability mediation contraptions hung on the wall
  648. >"God, I'm sorry it's such a mess..."
  649. "It's alright, it's not a mess in a terrible sense. I've seen far worse."
  650. >She laughs
  651. >"Not likely."
  652. "I grew up in a hoarder house, trust me. You're clearly doing your best."
  653. >"I guess... ooh! Check this out."
  654. >She rushes into the kitchen and emerges making a fist with a weird sort of mechanical ouija 3d printed nightmare board strapped to her hand
  655. >"I'm gonna send you to the Shadow Realm, haha..."
  656. >She clearly loses momentum halfway through the statement and sort of deflates, you walk over and give her a hug, which she accepts and returns willingly
  657. "You don't have to sell it by making a joke, it's cool. Tell me how it works."
  658. >She grins, and starts what might as well be a university lecture on how much she loves springs and hates compliant mechanisms (the long and short of it is longevity and reliability)
  659. >You start making the mixed drinks while she infodumps
  660. >"-and like... I swear, youtube engineering spaces are designed to ship the absolute worst mindsets. I hated compliant mechanisms before Mark Rober blew them the fuck up, sure it was appropriate for the mostly two-dimensional nature of the blaster, but..."
  661. >Vodka, lime juice, ice
  662. >No tequila sadly, but vodka 'margaritas' are fine
  663. >You've made them so often with cheap vodka and put them in the hooftripping cup that you've taken to calling them 'maregaritas' internally
  664. >Marketing says the name should never reach the light of day
  665. >"-and people are pretending like springs don't exist these days just because you can't produce them easily through additive manufacturing means!"
  666. >It pains you to admit, but you keep tuning out to direct your focus to the drink-making. You like Jenny, you want her to like you too, but sometimes aspies really don't understand how much they can overwhelm the mind.
  667. >You're somewhat of a normie externally, and the mindset transfers to some of your inner workings. You've unlearned many of the nastier habits of normalfaggotry, the kind that would make you curl up your nose in disgust at someone like Jenny while pretending you're still her friend.
  668. >You might have once. It's a sad thought, you know you hurt people by being the way you were.
  669. >Move forward, pay all the attention you can. Seek out a word or phrase you know a little bit about...
  670. >The drinks are almost done, you plan to get the party started very soon. Draw focus into productive social energy, a rare and valuable thing for the both of you
  671. >"-and oh my god I haven't even explained how it works yet."
  672. "It looks like an ouija board, is that intentional?"
  673. >"Yeah!!! It is. The entire design is basically a clusterfuck of nested springs for force application grafted onto the underside of an oijia board with all the letters removed. I realized pretty early on in the design that the thing kinda looked like a yugioh or bakugan gauntlet, so I ended up also putting some flair on the sides to exude those vibes."
  674. "Okay, if it's incorporated into the design and not just you getting down on yourself for cool shit... that was actually a funny joke. I kinda just needed proper context. What's it do?"
  675. >She grins and walks over to the TV, pressing the remote into the couch and then twiddling her wrist around like a madmare. The various locking grooves click as the springs twang in a mechanical symphony, and pretty soon she's got Discovery Family up.
  676. "Only on The Hub..."
  677. >"We lost a real one."
  678. "Gosh though, that's ingenious. You basically re-invented a prosthetic limb from the ground up."
  679. >"Aw shucks... nah, I was heavily inspired by a guy who lost a few fingers and had to manage a lot with wrist motion and gearchains. He's the real genius."
  680. "You fully understood and adapted a prosthetic limb."
  681. >"I followed instructions. My mind is a little better equipped to read them than some."
  682. "You need to work on your self-esteem."
  683. >"We need to drink."
  684. "We need to drink!"
  685. >The two of you grab a Flatrock each and "clink" your plastic cups together
  686. "To hooves, and all the beauty within the souls of ponies!"
  687. >"Amen!"
  688. >The two of you wash your pills down with vodka, lime juice, and ground ice cubes.
  689. >
  690. >
  691. >
  692. >You got a stallion this time, Jenny doesn't mind.
  693. >She's climbing over you, an adorable white pegasus with a black mane and brown spots all over
  694. >Her blue eyes are piercing, analytical even, three drinks deep
  695. >But she's slurring some words
  696. >"You... god you're a faaaaag Anon, no offensse. This is barrely a staaallion."
  697. "It's not reallly... my fault"
  698. >"I didn't say't was bad! You're... cute like this, pony bodies tend to be rather cuuute no matter what... but godddd, I would not ride you cowgirl. In fact, I have a straaaaa-"
  699. >You laugh a little, putting effort in to clean up your speech
  700. "Ooooookay. Let's save the dirty talk for next time, alright? We're chilling right now."
  701. >"Right, right. But it is your doing, fault or no. Think about it, don't you notice vibes when you transfer bodiees?"
  702. "Yes, but-"
  703. >"Sometimes I almost feel more coherrrent when I drink."
  704. "Jenny, I-"
  705. >You're feeling the effects of the booze hard, and she has smelled your proverbial blood in the water. You are expecting a generic egg cracking speech right fucking now and not looking forward to it.
  706. >But instead, she sighs and leans into you, the sexual undertones that were present were gone. As is the slurring.
  707. >"I like you so much this way. Ponies, you and me... all our other lost brothers and sisters, getting low at home. A generation ago, we might've become weird furries. We might've sunk ourselves fully into some horrible tech 9-5. We might've spouted political propaganda for one of the two sides in the horrible american bipartisan system. But we don't, and we aren't."
  708. >"We're here, being ponies. I know you don't want to hear more about trannies tonight, but it's in the same ballpark. Better availability to healthcare for our afflictions... whether prescribed or taken off the street."
  709. >"But mood and setting. You have a lot of the mare mental, big time."
  710. >You sigh, the tension fully releasing, and nuzzle into her fluffy cheek.
  711. "How do you figure Flatrock works that way?"
  712. >She laughs
  713. >and again, and again.
  714. >"Because I'm Pastel Sketch."
  715. "You're not supposed to name yourself."
  716. >"/I/ didn't. She's not mine."
  717. >She smells a little bit like apples, it's the faintest aroma. Like she cut one up earlier and some of the juice lingered
  718. "Oh my god. You're right, I knew she looked familiar. The bunny ear hat..."
  719. >"Yeah! It threw me off at first too. But then I just realized I was down an accessory... like AJ."
  720. "You even smell like apples"
  721. >"Heh, I think that's because she eats so many apple sandwiches for dinner. What a weird game. Cute OC."
  722. >She hums a little bit happily, and you find yourself recognizing the tune, the two of you looking each other in the eyes and smiling as you pick it up
  723. >The two of you harmonize
  724. >'Until the break of dawn'
  725. >'Life, life. Cannot go by the letter.'
  726. >'Time, time. Prozac can make it better.'
  727. >'Noise, noise. Any kind will do.'
  728. >'Can you feel it slip away-'
  729. >The two of you stop before the 'when it's all on you'
  730. >Then burst into laughter
  731. "God... that kiss earlier"
  732. >"I am not drunk enough to discuss-"
  733. "I love you too."
  734. >You kiss your mare on the muzzle as the television plays some late-night news anchor
  735. >Time, time...
  736. >She presses her lips against you, you two make out, and then drink to the point that you don't have memory of the rest of the night when you wake up the following morning.

War Story

by OrwellRedenbacher

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