37.2 Trillion Anonfillies


                                            >"Hey Twilight, SHOULD it burn all over?"

                                            >it feels as if you fell into a patch of nettles.

                                            >naked.

                                            >not that your incessant pawing at every square inch of exposed skin would perturb Twilight.

                                            >the purple bookhorse doesn't even look up from her notes as she hits you with some pseudo-scientific mumbojumbo that is probably meant to calm you down.

                                            >well, it's not working.

                                            >god, you need to get at your chest.

                                            >without wasting even as much as a thought on matters of decency, you rip off your shirt to get at the point where the itching seems to concentrate.

                                            >finally, sweet relie-

                                            >you yelp in pain.

                                            >it almost feels as if you rammed your finger into your eye.

                                            >an eye that is now opening in the middle of your chest.

                                            >"Twilight!"

                                            >even as you look on, the horrid change continues.

                                            >green and black fur sprouts around the offending organ as a second eye opens from nonexistence.

                                            >then the whole mess begins to push outwards.

                                            >frozen in shock and no small amount of disgust, you are unable to do much more than turn a desperate look to Twilight, but the former librarian seems just as stunned as you.

                                            >you hear her mumbling under her breath, but you don't pay it much attention, because the misshapen mass exiting your chest is now being followed by what seem to be limbs.

                                            >finally and with one last squelching sound, it all flops to the ground in front of you.

                                            >your trembling hands explore the region the thing came from.

                                            >surely there must be a massive hole left.

                                            >but you don't find it.

                                            >very slowly, you gather your courage and look down your body.

                                            >nothing.

                                            >no wound, no mark.

                                            >it is almost as if nothing happened at all.

                                            >if not for that strange mass on the floor.

                                            >a mass that now lifts its head to look at you and groans.

                                            >"Jesus Christ, talk about an out of body experience."

                                            >you scream like a little girl.


                                            >now that it shifts itself around and gets on its hooves, you realize that the thing that sprouted out of you is a filly.

                                            >a green filly with black mane and tail and a question mark on its flank.

                                            >"Great work, Twilight," it says with a voice thick with sarcasm, "I've always wanted to be a kid again. I am loving it, really. But would you mind telling me WHY THE FUCK MY OLD BODY IS STILL SITTING THERE?"

                                            >"W-what do you mean, YOUR old body? I am me. Always have been."

                                            >"Oh, fucking great. It even thinks it's sentient. You really fucked up this time, purple. Can you please discard this biological waste? I am sure AJ could always use some more compost."

                                            >"Shut the fuck up, you little shit!"

                                            >you try to kick the pony, but it deftly dodges your foot and tries to bite your toes.

                                            >"I am trying to think here."

                                            >it's not shouted, probably not even said out loud, yet the sentence still seems to echo off the walls.

                                            >you freeze.

                                            >so does the filly.

                                            >"It seems I've made a miscalculation."

                                            >Twilight tries to put on the airs of a distinguished professional, but you know her.

                                            >you can tell the nervousness behind the facade.

                                            >you yelp in unison with the filly as a bundle of hair is magically plucked from each of your scalps.

                                            >"I need to have a look at this. In the meantime, behave yourselves."

                                            >the filly stares at you with undisguised hostility.

                                            >you glare back.

                                            >"So what are you? Some kind of, dunno, magical residue that has taken over my old body?"

                                            >you snort.

                                            >"I am me. Anon. If anyone should ask someone who they are, it should be me asking you."

                                            >"Oh no. You can't be Anon. I am.

                                            >The filly stomps to underline its point.

                                            >"If you are Anon, prove it. What's your mother's maiden name? "

                                            >"Nothing easier than that. Nymous. She kept it when she married. Now it's my turn. What's your worst memory from school?"

                                            >"I am not telling you about that. No way, no how."

                                            >"A-ha. So you admit that you don't know."

                                            >"I know very well what it is. But there is no way I am telling a complete stranger like you."

                                            >"Great excuse. Very nice. And so believable. I am sure that it will dissuade Twilight from getting rid of you once she is finished with whatever she is doing."

                                            >"Alright, fine. You know what? Fine. You want to know? Here you go. I went to school without my pants. There it is. Satisfied? I had spent the whole night drinking with some friends, and when I discovered on my way to school the next day that I wasn't wearing any pants, I decided the whole thing was a wacky dream and continued on my way. Damn near ended up on the sex offender registry."

                                            >the filly looks at you wide-eyed.

                                            >"That's... correct," it admits.

                                            >"Of course it is, you little green cunt. My turn. What's my father's favourite TV show?"

                                            >the filly grins.

                                            >"Trick question. Your father was a deadbeat who left your mom when you were two. You have no idea what the hell he likes or dislikes."

                                            >slowly, the grin turns to a frown.

                                            >"Just like mine..."

                                            >for a moment, the two of you just sit there, wallowing in miserable memories.

                                            >you idly scratch your neck.

                                            >the itching has started again.

                                            >"But how can this be?" The filly finally asks.

                                            >"How can we both have the same memories? "

                                            >"Because you are the same."

                                            >Twilight steps back into the room, now wearing a labcoat, her notepad drifting by her side.

                                            >"It seems that I have overcommited, for lack of a better term."

                                            >"And what does that mean in layman's terms?" someone asks.

                                            >you look at the filly.

                                            >it looks back at you.

                                            >you look to your shoulder.

                                            >there, where you've just been scratching, a mouth has appeared.

                                            >a mouth that is pushing out into a muzzle before your very eyes.

                                            >"It seems that instead of turning you into a pony, every single cell of your body is becoming one. At exponential speed, most likely."

                                            >"WHAT?"

                                            >Twilight winces back from the trio of disbelieving shouts.

                                            >"It- it won't be so bad, really. Each of them will have your memories, so you don't need to be afraid of losing your identity or anything like that. Look at it like, like gaining an identical twin. A whole lot of them even. More of an extended family in fact. I- I'll go now, I have to talk to Princess Celestia about... about the logistics of housing and feeding ah, according to my calculations... about 37.2 trillion new ponies. Give or take.

                                            >she tries to back away.

                                            >"Yeah, you better go," crows the new head that grew out of your shoulder while she talked.

                                            >it lifts a dangling, newly formed hoof to point at her.

                                            >"Run, Twilight. You think we're going to take this lying down? We are coming for you all-"

                                            >"How many did she say?"

                                            >"37.2 trillion," the first filly helpfully offers.

                                            >"Give or take," you add tonelessly.

                                            >"Right. All 37.2 trillion of us. Or me? Doesn't matter. You're about to have 37.2 trillion fatherless, pantsless, pissed-off failures on your tail, Twilight!"

                                            >"Gottagowillbebackmakethingsright!"

                                            >and she's out of the door.

                                            >the second filly flops out of your shoulder and onto the ground.

                                            >and the itching starts again