GREEN
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6995 39.11 KB 514
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Author: Smollnon
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Pastebin URL: SQvvTXvq.html
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Date: Sep 9th, 2018
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>Be Anon.
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>Be in Ponyville, sitting in your comfy couch, sipping some quality hot chocolate as you read a book and listen to the sounds of the thunderstorm outside.
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>This one has been scheduled for weeks.
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>You just love predictable weather.
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>In fact, being in Ponyville, or just in general the pony world, is a great change.
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>However, that’s not important right now, since your book is-
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>A series of loud knocks interrupt your quiet musings, making you look in the front door’s direction.
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“Who could be knocking on my door at this hour?..” You ask from noone in particular.
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>Despite this world being so nice, you live alone.
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>Not your choice, really, it’s just the ponies not letting you be alone.
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>It’s something about their culture, you guess.
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>50’s America, except the gender roles are switched up, so you are expected to be a house husband?..
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>Papa Anon didn’t raise no fag, no sir, you will not do such things.
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>Another set of knocks interrupt your thoughts again, this time sounding more loud and urgent.
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>Pushing yourself out of the couch and setting your hot chocolate aside, you walk to the door.
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>You can hear some shuffling from outside, so you are certain it’s a pony.
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“Uh, hello? Who’s… there?..” You ask as you open the door, only to find nobody outside.
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>Except…
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“Well hello. Who left you here?” You ask from the tiniest of pony foals, lying in a basket, asleep. “Aw man, this won’t do…” You say, sucking in your lips.
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>You take a look around, seeing nothing but the nearby houses and vegetation, lit by the occasional lightning, then grab the basket and bring it inside.
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“This is a kid. A pony foal. What the flying fuck am I doing?” You ask yourself in a tone so calm, even you are surprised by it.
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>The foal turns in its sleep and you get to see its back.
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>There is a pair of teeny-tiny wings there.
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“There must be an ornithology book around somewhere…”
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>You realize, you are so not prepared.
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>The door opens and the toweringly tall local alien steps outside, calling out for who knocked - you - but sees nothing in this damned weather.
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>Good.
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>He spots the basket a few moments later and you see what you were hoping to see: the pulse of fatherly instincts passing through him.
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>Your most precious thing is with the most imposing resident of Ponyville, safe.
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>You fly to and hover in front of a window, seeing Anonymous taking your foal out of the basket.
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>Your little precious peeps, looks up at the being a several dozen times larger than themselves and happily chirps, snuggling into those strange, large hands.
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“I’m sorry to leave you alone… I had no other choice.” You whisper, and with one last tear shed, fly off.
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>You have no place here.
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>Be Anon.
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>Be standing in your kitchen, a kitten sized pegasus foal in your left hand, an ornithology book in your right.
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>Be very confused about what to do.
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“At least… uh… s-she? Yeah, she is not crying or hungry or… stuff.” You quietly say to yourself.
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>The reality of the situation is yet to settle down in you, for now it’s just looming over your head menacingly, like that proverbial sword.
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>The filly chirps again, hugging your thumb with her tiny forelegs.
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>Even your pinky finger is larger than a leg of hers!
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“Okay Anon, chill. What do ponies eat?” You ask yourself, trying to force calmness and coordination on you. “They eat vegetarian stuff of course. And milk. And eggs. But this is a foal. A new one at that.” You frown, setting the book of birbs down.
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>The filly in your hand is content with hugging your thumb, which you appreciate.
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>But how will you take care of her?
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>Especially later, since you need to go to work in the morning…
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>The filly really adorably chirps, like a baby bird, melting your heart.
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“You are too adorable… I must not screw this up.”
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>The night comes and passes, with it the thunderstorm dissipates.
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>Thanks to your human ingenuity, you managed to craft a safe nest for her you could place next to yourself in your bed without the risk of crushing her.
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>You know how baby animals act, you had kittens and puppies before, dammit!
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>For some reasons you are thankful for, she is not making a fuss.
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>She turns out to be a sleepy one anyway, she only wakes up to the first rays of sun touching the window.
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>Since this planet - if you can call it that - is geocentric, every day is of the same length, save for the special occasions, like that ‘Nightmare Night’ Halloween knockoff.
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>Which means that you have just gained an organic alarm clock.
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>Always the silver lining, you note to yourself, it will be that much easier to get your day going in a natural way.
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>Finding suitable food for the filly is an entirely new question and quest for you though.
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>You don’t really have anything specifically made for foals, especially not for ones this small, so you resort to do the test of trial and error.
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>Bringing out all the foods and ingredients you have, you offer them to the filly.
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“Go on now, little one. Don’t be shy.” You tell her as you gently set her down on the middle of the table, surrounded by all things edible.
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>She immediately starts chewing on the plastic wrapper of a candy bar.
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>Not the candy bar, the wrapper.
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>The facepalm is strong with this one.
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>You will also need to find a way to bring her with you into work.
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>You seem to remember having a dress shirt with a large frontal pocket, right above your heart.
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“Yeah, that will do.” You quietly comment, seeing your filly leave the wrapper and nom on some warm milk. “That will do.”
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“G’morning’!” You greet your ‘boss’ - he hates it when you call him that - Davenport, the owner of Quills and Sofas.
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>The earth pony stallion’s been in the shop for a while, you measure, you see an empty coffee cup on the counter.
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>Ah, the wonders of Monday.
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>”Good morning, Anon. How was your wee… kend?” He asks, spotting the tiny pegasus foal staring at him from your shirt pocket.
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>She’s been rather quiet and observing throughout the journey from your home to your workplace, little ears perking up and pointing at every noise and movement around you.
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“Same old, same old. Loved the thunderstorm. How about you?” You ask nonchalantly, trying to ignore Davenport’s staring.
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>”Is that a foal in your pocket?” He asks, his expression unreadable.
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“Yes. She is. Please don’t freak out, I don’t know what to do myself.” You reply, sucking in your lips nervously.
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>”Oh my gosh, she’s so adorable!” Davenport responds, rearing up on the counter to get a better view of your foster daughter. “How did you… who did you… this makes no sense!” He says just a pinch too fast for your tastes, reminding you of a certain pink party planner.
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“No idea, but I can’t let her down. I mean, look at her, she even chirps like a baby bird!” You reply, a warm smile returning to your face.
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>As if on cue, the filly lets out a curious peep, eyes focused on your boss - probably the first pony she had the luck to observe more closely.
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>”So you decided to adopt her? Goodness gracious. Do you know how to take care of her?” Davenport asks, arching an inquisitive eyebrow as he switches to look up at you. “My wives could give you some supplies and advice.” He offers, behaving like the stereotypical pony stallion: like a motherly human woman.
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“Actually, yes. I know next to nothing about kids. Thanks Dave.” You reply and pat his head, earning a grimace and a chuckle from him.
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>”Right, right. And what’s her name?” He asks, reaching out with his right forehoof to gently caress your filly’s cheeks.
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“Uhh… I have… I didn’t think of that. Guess I should go to the hospital to get her checked up?..” You ask, an unsure expression appearing on your face.
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>”That sounds like a plan to me. Go, take care of her, I can pony the counter alone.” Davenport says, dismissing you with a wave of his hoof.
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>You love living here.
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>Be Anon.
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>Be on your merry way to the Ponyville Hospital.
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>Be reminded of why you prefer to live alone.
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>As you stroll towards the white, cubical building on the edge of the town, you are being catcalled by mares.
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>Is it because your clothing - or clothes in general - you have no idea, but it is damn annoying.
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>The fact that the whistles and dirty sounding innuendos are making your yet to be named foster daughter scaredly peep, does not make you feel any better.
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>Quickening your pace you leave the busy streets behind, soon entering the paved road of the hospital.
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>A breath of relief, a familiar smell of disinfectant and magical air conditioning.
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>The nurse on shift - Redheart - spots you right away, which is not surprising, you are basically towering above these ponies.
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>”Anonymous! It’s good to see you! How may I help you today?” She asks, running her eyes up and down on you, not failing to notice your shirt pocket. “Is that…?”
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“Yepp.” You nod, reaching up and gently petting the filly’s head with your right hand. “Found her yesterday evening on my porch. No idea how or why she got there but I would be a heartless monster if I abandoned her.”
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>Your short explanation makes Nurse Redheart’s mouth form a little ‘o’ in surprise, which she dismisses with a shake of her head.
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>”I… can understand the reasoning, at least partially, but trusting a stranger with your foal, even if it’s the sweetest stallion I know, it’s…”
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You finish her sentence yourself. “Reckless.”
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>Redheart nods then and points at the filly. “Can you please hoof her over to me? I take you are here to do a check-up on her and, uhm, adopt her?”
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>You nod in confirmation, gently removing the pocket dwelling birb-horse baby, to her dismay.
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>She makes a series of desperate chirps, however, as you cup her in your palms, gently stroking her mane, she calms down.
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>”I can take measurements of her and do the paperwork, but we will need Tenderheart to finish the medical checkup.” Redheart explains, taking out a kitchen scale that has a modified plate for cases like this.
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“That works for me.” You respond to her, carefully placing your filly on the scale.
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>She only weighs 280 grams, which is roughly 10 ounces, if you go with that archaic measurement system.
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>Pony scales have both marked on them for some reasons.
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>Redheart marks down the weight, then grabs a measuring tape and takes the other numbers.
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“Is she in good health?” You ask with a hint of worry in your voice.
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>”It seems so. I see no abnormal lesion on her and her weight seems to be appropriate for a pegasus foal as well. Although, I’m not an expert, which is why we need Tenderheart. Give me a moment, I will go and fetch her.” She answers and leaves you at the reception.
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>This makes you wonder, why would these ponies have newborn measuring scales and tapes at the receptionist desk??
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>These darn ponies…
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>What started as a couple minutes of Redheart fetching Tenderheart turned into the oh so familiar waiting game in the hospital.
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>At least it’s free.
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>After a while you decided to take a seat on the near-comically undersized benches that litter the hallways, taking your foster daughter with you.
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>Placed on your lap, she decided to try out how to walk.
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>No success.
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>Ain’t a thing to stop her though, she has the fighting spirit, you can tell that much.
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>With your focus on helping your filly try and take her first steps, you don’t even notice when Redheart returns, Tenderheart in tow.
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>”He would make a good husband, I told you.” Tenderheart quietly says to Redheart, but not quiet enough, since you can hear her.
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“It’s good to see you too, Tendy.” You greet her, earning a grimace from the nurse.
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>Ponies dislike being called pet names by people outside their family and close friends.
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>”Yes, hello. I can already tell that the filly has no health issues, but if you bring her along, I can make the statement official.” She tells you, moving her right forehoof around in a circle.
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>With a nod you take hold of your filly and bring her to Tenderheart.
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>She has brought some sort of medical equipment with her, kinda looking like an oversized microwave oven, and by the looks of it, your filly goes in there.
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>”Did you decide on her name?” Redheart asks, shuffling some papers together, most likely only missing that detail.
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“Well… no. I’m not too good with names.” You reply, shaking your head.
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>”Hmm. Her coat is light blue and her mane is fiery orange.” Tenderheart muses as she starts up the medical machine. “Her eyes are green and she is a pegasus, so I would go with something sky and sun related.”
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“Mhm, I can see why.” You agree and cautiously place your filly in the machine.
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>She just peeps once, not knowing what to do.
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>”This should be done in a moment.” Tenderheart reassures you.
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>The thought of naming your daughter turns out to be a problem you can hardly solve.
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>Be Anon.
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>Be in a dilemma.
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>Choosing a name for a foal is hard.
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>Things like sunset, summer and sky are rolling around in your mind.
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>You even think of calling her Faggot!
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>No, those days are long gone, you are a better person now.
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>You have to force back the snort, you can’t lie to yourself.
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>After a full minute of umming and arring, it clicks in.
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“I will name her… Summer Breeze. It’s not original, but it’s nice.” You tell Tenderheart, a genuine smile appearing on your face.
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>”Fitting! We seem to be about done here too, Redheart will handle the rest of the work.” She replies, returning your smile in kind.
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>The medical machine dings and spews out a couple sheets of papers, with graphs and medical mumbo-jumbo on it.
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>Tenderheart takes them and reads each page with care.
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>”Yes, just as I thought.” She says, slightly nodding her head.
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“Well? What is it?” You ask, suddenly doubting your foa- Ah, Summer’s health.
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>”She is as fit as a fiddle. Here.” She responds and gives Summer back to you, to her relief. “Now, about that paperwork…”
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>Your journey back to the Quills and Sofas is surprisingly well paced.
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>As in, you feel a spring in your own step, a happy little bounce keeping you up.
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>Summer must feel it too, she keeps happily chirping in your pocket, rubbing her little muzzle against your shirt-clad chest.
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>You can’t help but smile, taking the foal out of there to hold her.
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>Just like a little bird.
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>The thought of seeing her flying around makes you smile even more.
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>She must feel the love, if her cooing and peeping is any indication.
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>However, you return to your workplace sooner than you would expect it, effectively breaking you away from your happy thoughts.
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>Davenport is, as expected, inside, sitting behind the counter as he helps a customer choose a new quill.
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>He immediately notices you, so by the time you enter the shop, he is already at the door, blocking your way in.
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>”Anon! Tell me what happened! Wait, I see those papers, you got her this fast? That’s amazing! What did you decide on, what’s her name?” He rapid fires the questions, forcing you to boop the snoot.
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>That shuts him up alright, it works on every pony.
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While he is staring at your finger, adorably cross-eyed, you answer. “I got everything done, she is healthy and her name is Summer Breeze. Now tell me, how do I raise a child?”
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>A couple innocent blinks later Davenport shakes his head and answers. “Well, she is a pegasus, which is not within my expertise, but I can give you pointers, I think.” He replies, then grins. “Aww, Summer Breeze? That’s just adorable. I wonder, when will she learn to fly?”
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>You intentionally avoid answering to that question, you have seen that poor flightless pegasus filly, what’s her name?
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>Scooter… Scott-aeiou?
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>Something along the lines.
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>”Uhm, excuse me? I think I have found a quill I like!...” The customer - some purple unicorn mare - interrupts the little moment.
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>”Ah, I’m sorry miss, I will be there in a moment.” Davenport responds and indeed goes back to the counter, but not before gently petting Summer on the head, which he could only do because you are still holding her in your hands.
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>She chirps in response, pushing her head against Davenport’s hoof.
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>Guess she accepted him around her… or pony foals don’t do that?
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>Dammit, you don’t know a thing about this.
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>Speaking of.
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>You will need to shop for baby-supplies now.
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>And books about birb-horses.
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>Maybe you should actually ask a birb-horse in person?
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>There is that butter yellow one you buy fish from, maybe she knows what to do.
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>Or her friend with the pride-flag-for-mane.
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>Yes, that sounds like a plan.
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>Be Anon.
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>Be walking towards the Nonprofit Animal Care Society Cottage on the town’s edge.
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>Be perplexed about how said animals will react to your daughteru.
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>On the one hand, she is safe and sound in your pocket.
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>On the other, a bird of prey might swoop in and take her before you could do as much as grab its neck and sn-
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>No, don’t think of that.
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>As you approach the cottage, you see more and more of the little birds and woodland critters.
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>They don’t seem to mind you, which is still strange to you, since you are a human.
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>Then again, this world is devoid of humans… save for some myths, you think.
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>The librarian was excited about you and your species first, but that died off when you explained that you aren’t from this world, so you aren’t a local myth.
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>But you digress, since you are already standing in front of the door of the cottage of your fish-supplier, Fluttershy.
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>With a couple knocks you announce your presence.
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>A few seconds later you remember the social anxiety of the aforementioned and verbally confirm yourself.
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“Hey Fluttershy, it’s me, Anon. I need your help.”
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>A moment later the door opens, revealing the light pink and butter yellow pegasus, cautiously looking around before looking up at you.
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>”Why, hello Anon! How may I help? Is something… wrong?” She asks meekly, but before you could respond, she spots Summer.
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>Her reaction is similar to Davenport’s, which is considered strange in this world.
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>”Oh my gosh, is that a foal in your pocket?” She asks, putting her forehooves on her cheeks. “She is so small! Oh, you must be here for help with the foal!”
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“Actually, yes. She’s a pegasus, and you are a pegasus, so…” You nod, gently taking Summer out of your pocket.
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>Fluttershy makes a squee not unlike a dog’s chewing toy, taking your filly’s attention.
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>Summer makes a confused but curious peep.
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>Fluttershy actually peeps back to her, making Summer giggle.
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“May I come in?” You ask before you would drop dead from cute.
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>These darn ponies, man…
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>As it turns out Fluttershy has some good parenting skills and foal-raising supplies.
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>Guess taking care of animals of all kinds and ages helps with that.
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>After you took a seat on the mice-chewed sofa (which you know you will bring the replacement for), Fluttershy was quick to bring out everything she had, placing the things on the coffee table.
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>Thankfully Summer was in no danger, Fluttershy made sure of that too.
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>The fact that she can actually talk with the animals will never cease to baffle you.
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>Does this mean that all animals are on the same intelligence/sentience level as humans, except they can’t communicate with us in the same way?
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>You dismiss the thought before getting a stroke and instead focus on Summer.
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>Since you are sitting down, she is on your lap again, crawling up towards your shirt, and presumably, pocket.
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>She looks determined to return to her makeshift nest, that’s for sure.
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>”So Anon…” Fluttershy begins, sitting down next to you. “How did you… uhm… who is her... “ She attempts to ask, but as expected, can’t exactly put her thoughts into spoken words.
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>Good thing you don’t need to hear her to know what she is thinking.
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>Unlike some other ponies we do not name.
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“I found her on my doorstep yesternight. I have no idea about her mom, but… I-uh, I already adopted her. Now that I’M saying it outloud, it sounds like a brash idea which I should have considered before doing. Oh well.”
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>Fluttershy’s expression swiftly changes from curious-worried to worried, surprised, startled, worried and finally, apologetic.
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>”Anon, you did the right thing. No foal should grow up without a loving father. Even if their mother abandoned them.” She lets out a sigh, you know exactly which kind and you don’t want to deal with that. “You don’t need to be hard on yourself. Things will turn out fine.”
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“I very much hope so. So, how do babies work?” You reply and ask, pointing a finger at the supplies Fluttershy brought.
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>It is time to learn the magic of raising a foal.
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>Hearing this, Fluttershy’s expression turns into a gleeful one.
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>You will be here for a while…
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>He is in the cottage with the animal caretaker mare.
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>Does he think your foal is a baby animal?
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>No, that doesn’t sound right.
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>Upon flying closer to a window you can peek in and see that they are talking about foal related things, like diapers.
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>You calm down a bit and return to your cloud perch you were sitting on before.
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>Why must your heart ache so much?
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“Dammit Davenport, you make mares sound like a much easier thing, dammit-dammit-dammit!”
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>Be Anon.
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>Be on your way back to your home.
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>Your visit to Fluttershy was a success, to say the least, however, dealing with the excited mare turned into more than a handful.
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>Her baby supplies are not a minute too late either, right after she taught you how to put a diaper on Summer, the filly decided to offer you a study-oriented repeat of your technical knowledge.
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>Of course, Fluttershy found it rather hilarious.
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>Darn mares.
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>Why would Fluttershy have the tiniest diapers stockpiled though, you would wonder for a while.
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>Except she figured it out that you were thinking of it and told you.
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>She actively raises baby animals, so she needs the diapers to keep her home clean.
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>With these things still fresh in mind, you arrive back home, only to find a large envelope on your doorstep.
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>It’s a strange sight, not only because your mailbox is literally right next to the door, but also because the envelope is adored with little, decorative wings.
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“Well what might you be?” You ask as you grab and open it.
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>Summer’s attention is also taken, she is curiously staring at it, letting out an occasional peep.
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>The envelope reveals… a green bow?
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>It looks like the kind that apple filly wears, except smaller and very obviously not five decades old.
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“Huh. Summer, will you look at that! I think it’s for you.” You tell her, holding the bow in front of little muzzle, allowing her to reach out and tou- she immediately gnaws on the fabric. “Dammit Summer.”
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>You pet her mane and gently pull the bow away.
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>You like the adornment, you hope Summer will like it too.
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>Securing a bow on a basically newborn filly is a mess.
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>But you have done it!
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>It really is done now.
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>As you sit at your dining table, watching Summer pawing at the bow you put behind her left ear, not unlike a kitten, you start to wonder.
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“Who could have left the bow for her?”
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>You walked through town a couple times today, Summer on clear display, anyone could have seen her and thought of offering a gift.
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>Maybe it was Davenport?
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>That’s a big possibility, given how you basically left your boss alone in the shop, so he has little to no time to do things outside lunch break.
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>The thought keeps you occupied, right until Summer stops playing with the bow and just sits back, looking up at you.
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>She lets out a chirp like cry, almost sounding…
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“Are you hungry, little bird?” You ask, a smile forming on your face.
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>Fluttershy’s baby formula will come in handy now.
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>The rest of the day comes and passes relatively uneventful, right until the moment you realize that you are running out of food.
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>Well, not really running out, but your favourite pastries are on low stock.
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>Spending the afternoon playing with Summer made you hungry too, so you decide that a little walk (to the Sugarcube Corner, that is) is in place now.
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“Come along Summer!” You tell to your daughter, patting your pocket on your shirt.
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>In the past couple hours you actually managed to teach her how to walk!
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>Err, crawl.
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>Same thing.
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>Now she is rather excited to move around, trying to follow you everywhere, which is problematic for you, since she is just so small.
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>A couple moments later she is right by you, holding up her tiny forelegs, for upsies and for being placed back into her nest-pocket.
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>You oblige and do just that, placing her right in her favourite spot.
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“Time to go and get some food for Papa Anon now.” You tell her, then realize. “Heck, I really am turning into my dad.”
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>Darn ponies, this is because of you all!...
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>”That will be 14 bits, Nonny!” Pink Spasm Demon, aka Pinkie Pie tells you as she bags the pastries you bought.
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>You hate it when she calls you that.
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>But you can’t tell her to stop doing it.
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>You tried, no use.
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“Yes, thank you.” You say and nod, handing the small gold coins to her nonchalantly as you take your jam filled baked goods.
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>”Say, Nonny, since when do you have a plushy filly in your pocket?” Pinkie asks, pointing at Summer.
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>Your eyes go wide in terror.
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>She did not realize that Summer is the real deal, since your daughteru has been basically motionless and staring in silence from the moment you entered the pastry shop.
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>She… this she-devil must never know!
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“I-uh, Da-davenport gifted this plushie to me, to get more customers or something, I didn’t pay much attention.” You lie to her, badly, but that’s all it takes to convince the Pink Menace.
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>”Ooooh, she’s so cute! Tell Davenport that I want to know the pony he buys his dolls from, yours looks /so real/!” She grins, remaining mostly put.
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>It’s unlike her, but she is on counter duty right now and there is already a line behind you.
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“Uh, right, I… I will.” You nod again and quickly leave the place.
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>”By Nonneeerrs!” Pinkie yells and waves after you, which you ignore as you basically jog away.
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“That was way too close.” You mutter as the Sugarcube Corner’s door closes behind you.
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>You pet Summer’s head, to which she responds, finally making a noise, which is a chirp.
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>She is staring up into your eyes, her own eyes mirroring confusion and startledness.
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“It’s alright little one, she is gone now.” You reassure her and smile.
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>Summer smiles back, slightly turning and rubbing her little cheeks against you.
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>Since you were already in town, you decided to go and check on Davenport because why not?
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>It’s just past closing hours, but as you approach the Quills and Sofas you can see that the lights are still on, with a familiar pony moving around inside.
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>Without thinking twice, you enter the shop, even though the closed sign is clearly on display.
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“Evening, Dave.” You greet him, mildly startling the earth pony stallion, who does a tiny jump before realizing what’s going on.
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>”Oh, it’s just you Anon. And Summer. How was today? Everything’s fine I hope?” He asks, putting aside the broom he used.
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“Yeah, all is well, though I had a run-in with The Pink and.. Uh… had to tell her that Summer is a super-realistic doll you gifted to me.” You explain and rub the back of your head, feeling awkward.
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>Davenport hums and rubs his chin with a hoof before shrugging. “Hey, a stallion’s gotta do what he’s gotta do. And you just told me, so I can back you up on this.” He smiles, then turns his attention to Summer. “Well how are you, sugarcube?” He asks her, making your filly reach out with both of her forehooves towards him.
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“Darn, she likes you. Here.” You reply and take her out of your pocket, holding her in front of Davenport in your open palms.
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>The sight of the teeny-tiny filly that’s not large enough to fill your palms is still baffling to you.
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>Exceptionally adorable nonetheless.
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>”Well hello-hello. Do you want to say something?” Davenport asks, leaning a little closer.
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>Summer is still reaching out for him, but now she is balancing on three legs, holding out her right foreleg.
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>You see the opportunity and take it.
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“Boop!”
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>A little help from you and Summer’s tiny hoof connects with Davenport’s muzzle, making the filly fall back on her rump and giggle, making the stallion scrunch his muzzle.
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“Gotcha, Dave. Now you have been booped by two generations.” You tell him, nodding sagely.
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>Summer coos and then makes an elongated peep in agreement.
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>Damn, she knows!
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>Davenport shakes his head and chuckles, rubbing his nose. “Heh. Adorable.” He thinks for a moment before continuing. “I think you should meet my smallest foal, I’m sure Summer would befriend him quickly. Foals need their friends.”
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>Davenport’s kid, you think, you /know/ he has a few of them, but you haven’t actually seen all of them before, let alone met them.
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“Yeah, that sounds nice. Do you think you could bring him in tomorrow?” You ask, and as you do so, you return Summer to her pocket.
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>”I was about to suggest the same thing, Anon.” He replies, smiling. “But anyway since you are here, can you help me close? I’m almost late and you know how the girls are…”
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>You nod, you have had a couple run-ins with one of his wives.
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>Everytime you met her she was basically spastic!
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>And a unicorn at that, making her twice as unbearable.
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>Unicorns just love touching and lifting everything with their magic.
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“Oh by the way, did you leave this bow in an envelope on my doorstep?” You ask Davenport, pointing at the adoration on Summer’s head.
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>She got used to the thing relatively quickly, thankfully.
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>”Uh, no, and I was about to ask about it. It looks really adorable on her.” Dave replies, slightly shaking his head.
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“Huh. Then we have a mystery gifter on our hands.”
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>”Hooves.”
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“Dammit Dave!”
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>Be Anon.
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>Be on your way back to your humble abode.
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>To be honest, it’s about twice as large as a regular pony house, given your larger stature.
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>But it’s humble nonetheless.
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>After saying your goodbyes to Davenport, you found yourself thinking about Summer.
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>Babies are supposed to sleep a lot, right?
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>She mustn’t be an exception, you would dare to guess.
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>But then, how comes she’s not really sleeping?...
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>This question answers itself quicker than you would expect, as you see Summer’s head droop down for a few moments.
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>She shifts position, allowing herself to rest her head effortlessly while not actively holding it up.
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>Oh.
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>Well, that makes sense, you think, from time to time she becomes rather quiet.
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>She is taking little birdy naps.
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>With this thought out of the way, you turn your attention onto other topics.
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>Like for example, why do you have a bottle of milk on your doorstep?
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>It’s clearly left there for Summer, it even has that nipple thing you forgot the name of.
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“Huh… uhhuh….” You mutter, picking up the bottle.
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>It’s warm.
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“What the… hell…” You say under your breath, trying to not feel weirded out.
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>Or at least not as much as you think you should be.
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>With the bottle in hand, you decide to just get inside your house and think about this later.
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>To think how your life has changed just in the past couple days!...
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>And what else could happen in the future.
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>You shake your head and shake the milk bottle, making its contents slosh around.
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>This wakes Summer up, and a moment later, she is smacking her lips with excitement.
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“Hungry again? Well, get at it I guess.” You tell her as you take her out of your pocket, so you can properly bottle feed her.
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>A nagging feeling, of being watched, starts to prick the skin on the back of your neck.
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“This is absurd…”
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>After the thankfully quiet, peaceful night, you feel refreshed and ready to join Davenport in work.
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>He has one of his kids with him now, so today will be exciting… for Summer.
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>Speaking of, since your observation yesterday, you have been noticing her dozing off around every half an hour, for as long as five minutes at a time.
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>She slept through the night though, probably a bird thing?
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>You really need to get around reading the literature of this topic.
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>However, before you could actually arrange to do that, you are already almost late, forcing you to finish your morning routine quicker.
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>With the addition of Summer, it’s more complex now, which is making you hurry even more!
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>At least she is not making a fuss.
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>Except when she sees food.
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>/Then/ she makes a parade!
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>Thank goodness food is cheap and plentiful.
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>The ponies are really helpful as well, making your… parenting easier.
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>After all is done and you are on your way to Quills and Sofas, you realize a thing.
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>You are wearing the last shirt you have with a front pocket.
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>You need more clothes…
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>These thoughts quickly leave your head as you reach and enter your workplace.
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>Davenport is already in there, wearing a strange looking hat.
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“Morning!” You greet him, and to your surprise, Summer chirps to him as well.
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>”Ah, good morning Anon.” Davenport responds, turning his head to look at you.
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>That is not a hat.
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“Uhhh….?” You vocalize your poetic idea to him as you stare at the very much not-hat unicorn colt on his head.
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>”Heh, Mocha likes to do that. Lying on my head, that is.” Davenport explains to you, chuckling to himself. “Come on son, hop off your papa.”
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>The light brown colored foal nods, then slides off of Davenport, onto the counter.
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>There, he turns and stares right up with his purple eyes, first at you, then at Summer.
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>You can see curiosity taking hold on him as Summer’s eyes meet his.
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“You think I can…?” You ask Davenport, a hand hovering above Summer.
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>”No worries, Mocha is well behaved. Though, he /is/ curious. Sometimes overly so. Buuut we are right here, the both of us, so there shouldn’t be a problem, now should it?” He replies and chuckles.
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“Alrighty then.” You shrug and take Summer out of your pocket, gently placing her onto the counter.
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>You can tell that Mocha is older than Summer, but the size difference makes it really obvious.
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>Summer is basically as big as the older foal’s head!
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>The curious nature of Dave’s colt immediately shows, he walks up to the now sitting Summer and with a cautious hoof… he boops Summer.
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>Summer’s expression immediately changes, shifting into one of indignation.
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>Swifter than one could expect, her little hoof shoots out, booping Mocha back before he could dodge it.
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>The colt, in his surprise, falls on his flanks, an expression of startled amazement on his face.
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>”Did you teach her to do that?” Davenport asks, with an inquisitive eyebrow aimed at you as he speaks.
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“Nnnope, but I’m darn proud of her now. Atta girl!” You reply, petting Summer’s mane.
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>In your time spent in Equestria you have learnt that for ponies, booping someone is borderline lewd.
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>Well guess, who will be rewarded to do that?
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>Who will be raised to be Papanon’s little bird of prey?
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>An evil smile spreads on your face.
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>Who knew parenthood will be this exciting?
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>Be perched on a tree branch.
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>Be shaky, heart-achey and worried.
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>You must be the mother of the foal called Summer, then.
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>You are on your well deserved vacation, which you are supposed to enjoy, but instead you are sitting in a tree, spying on the friendly neighborhood human as he shows genuine love and affection to your… and well, /his/ daughter.
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>Trusting your instincts was a good idea, he really is doing a great job of taking care of her, or at least it seems that way.
-
>He’s only had her for a couple days now, but all things considered…
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>Wait.
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>Did he just…?
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>Why would he want your daughter to boop that colt’s muzzle?
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>L-lewd…
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>At the very least, it’s innocent foal’s play, nothing serious....
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>However, you have serious things to attend to.
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>Concealing the fact that you were pregnant, and then giving birth to Summer alone left you exhausted and in danger.
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>You aren’t sure who to trust, who you could talk to.
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>Maybe… maybe that zebra shaman in the Everfree.
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>She should have something for you.
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>Only if you could just say buck it and undo this all.
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>But alas, your position and status does not allow such a thing.
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>Better get moving, you feel yourself cramping up in a very painful way.
-
>It hurts almost as much as being forced to give your daughter to basically a stranger.
-
>But you had to… just… had to….
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----------
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>It’s the evening now.
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>The zebra shaman mare, Zecora, was… understanding.
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>At least you think that, you can’t exactly read her expressions.
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>Regardless, she gave you some cures and ointments.
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>They do work, you feel the pain subside considerably.
-
>Although, you also feel nauseated and sleepy.
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>You hate those feelings, makes you remember the times when you were-
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>No, better not bring those memories up.
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>Yes, let’s focus on the present.
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>Literally, you have got something new for Summer.
-
>Anon is yet to get home.
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>You bolted the moment he began to close up the place, so you have about five more minutes till he arrives.
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>Thus, you can safely scout out the area and avoid being seen by ponies.
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>You would… most likely suffer from that even more.
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>...
-
>Skies are clear, ready for drop off.
-
>Just in a few passing seconds, you zoom down to the porch of Anon’s home, leave your present there and then you are away.
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>Nopony saw, good.
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>The remaining minutes are spent with waiting in your pre-built Cloud-Puff Observing Station.
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>Okay, it’s literally just a pony sized cloud, but it does well enough.
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>Ah, here he comes.
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>He took notice of the present way before reaching his home… he must be more observant than he lets it seem.
-
>He is showing it to Summer…. Good, good.
-
>She likes her present.
-
>Now he is looking around… at….. Oh buck.
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“Huh… was that…? Ehhh, nevermind.” You mutter, talking to yourself.
-
>You are Anon of course, standing right in front of your home.
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>Summer and the pony doll you found on your doorstep is in your arms, she seems to love the doll.
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>The doll is actually a tiny bit larger than she is.
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>It’s one of those aerial acrobat ponies, the equivalent of the famous Blue Angels.
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>You have seen one of their shows, and damn, were you amazed!
-
>Mere ponies flying around and doing acrobatics does not interest you though.
-
>Even if they wear a uniform that’s basically the same color and style.
-
>Well, at least Summer seems to have found her most favourite thing ever.
-
“Come on sweetie, let’s get inside.” You tell Summer and open the door. “You can hug your dolly in there too.”
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>You look at the doll for a few moments, then back at the sky where you could have sworn you saw /something./
-
”Hm.” With a shrug, you dismiss the thought.
-
>This is ponyland, and ponies are not as cruel as humans.
-
“What’s this one called?... Uhhh…. Stuka? Wait, no, that’s not it. Oh, right, Spitfire.” You tell yourself as you inspect Summer’s new doll again. “Looks really high quality. Huh.”
-
>You have a strong theory about this now, but… you know that you shouldn’t be hasty making assumptions.
-
>What good is coming from jumping into assumptions, after all?
by rmp
by rmp
by rmp