Unfinished Pon-e Story

 

Pony and Rat

“Sorry it took me so long. It was a lot harder to get than I thought,” Rat said to me as we sat in my car in his driveway. It was pitch dark out.

“It’s fine! I’m sorry for asking for something so hard to get! Thanks for tracking it down,” I said while trying to hold my giddiness inside. I could see from the thin smile on his face and the amusement in his eyes he was picking up on it.

When I first heard about it online I thought it was a prank. A publicity stunt maybe? Viral marketing? Rumors spread about who was behind it: Aliens? Illuminati? The Jews? But the evidence kept building against my skepticism: stacks and stacks of news reports, incredibly convincing videos online. When I saw the famous interview with one of the users on TV I was finally convinced: I needed this.

On live national TV, sitting across from a dry old man, who still somehow looked bored with his situation, was a small cream-coated pony with a brown mane and tail.

She explained she is normally a human male until she takes a new street drug called “Pon-E” and then she becomes a little mare for 12 hours at a time. She didn’t look much different from a pony from My Little Pony, except realized in 3D and with more defined horse anatomy. Her head wasn’t cartoonishly oversized, but it was larger than a human’s. Her eyes were proportionally larger and always caught the light in a beautiful reflection. The beautiful chocolate colors of her irises were much more apparent as they visibly expanded and contracted as she spoke excitedly. Her muzzle was larger than on the cartoon as well, but still small and dainty and visibly smiling throughout.

She called herself “Princess” for the interview and was there to set the record straight about the drug’s effects, what she knew about the origin, the types of people who used it and why they used it. She sat upon a stool with a short, open back, her tail dangling far below and her black little hooves gestured in front of her as she explained it. Behind her as she talked were pictures and videos of pon-E friends of hers of a variety in a variety of colors and ‘races’.

She explained after taking one dose orally a metamorphosis would begin and when it finished you were a little pony. There was no reliable way to predict what a person’s appearance would be when they transformed: pegasus, unicorn or earth pony; stallion or mare. But it was consistent between sessions and usually the user was very satisfied with the outcome. To the point she theorized your subconscious had some say in the end result. After roughly twelve hours the ‘high’ would end and you would change back. That was assuming you didn’t overdose and take two or more in the same day. When you overdosed you would be stuck as a pony apparently permanently. While it didn’t seem physically addictive, she said it was psychologically addicting.

People used it because they didn’t like themselves, they wanted to be different, to be ponies, they wanted the physical affection that came with looking like an adorable pony. They had a heightened sense of joy, physical sensations and emotions. Depression, anxiety, paranoia, all your problems faded away. And when it came to unicorns and pegasi, after a lot of training unicorns could perform telekinesis and pegasi could fly.

She theorized because of where ‘pony petting parties’ started she suspected it’s origins were either in Colorado or Florida. It was speculated to be an experimental drug that escaped a research lab and was being manufactured in the wild now. It was a miracle drug and the exact mechanism was unknown to even her but she expected “nanomachines” were at work because of the speed and reversibility. Maybe this pony transformation pill was a “fun” test to find the limits of its applications and it escaped because a fan of a certain pony show just had to share. That was her theory anyway.

Whatever the origin, it spread like wildfire and you could buy it if you knew the right people. And there was one person in my life who was the right person: Rat.

He wasn’t nicknamed that because he rated people out or because of the way he looked. It was because of the rattail running down the back of his thick, curly black hair. He encouraged it because he didn’t like his real name. The same real name I had that I also didn’t like all that much. Around his groups of friends I was Pony. It was stupid, a ponytail on a guy wasn’t that uncommon. But I wore too many My Little Pony shirts and I was friends with someone named Rat so it stuck.

We met by chance at a support group for transgender people and I talked to him because he knew where to get cross-gender hormones and a doctor to monitor you. But you had to buy them yourself; not technically prescribed. That was a big no-no in our gatekeeping community.

Oh yeah, we both had a mental disorder: Gender dysphoria. That was something else we had in common besides our birth name.

I say it that way because we didn’t consider ourselves ‘transgender’. We didn’t necessarily swallow the “blue pill” about being “females born in male bodies” or play into the identity politics. It was your right to do what you wanted to your body to deal with it. We knew we had a mental disorder and we dealt with it in our own ways. That’s what alienated us from the support group and made us stop going, but that’s what blossomed our friendship.

I was a faggot taking the hormones a typical male-to-female “tranny” did and took the good and the bad of the physical changes. I dressed androgynously, kept my “mane” long, couldn’t grow facial hair anymore, but didn’t “socially” transition. Only the people who I felt had the right to know knew what I was doing, I didn’t try to use the women’s restroom or “pass” as a female. Not that I didn’t get “gendered female” from time to time. Particularly when I was wearing a little make up in public like I was now. But I was just a “girly boy” now; a “femboy”; a faggot. Whatever term you wanted to call me.

Rat, on the other hand, was a frequent crossdresser but didn’t take any form of “hormone replacement therapy”. He liked women too much to lose his male sex drive and was too “straight edge”, as he called it, to take drugs. Apparently that was typical for a successful drug dealer. Being in the game for two decades I guess he was onto something.

“I was only promised one. And you’re not going to like the price,” Rat looked at me with his version of a frown. It was more of a neutral expression than a sad one. If he ever had a hint of weakness in his eyes I had never seen it. His piercing blue eyes were the eyes of a predator. Always calculating, always calm, always in control. Not going to lie, I was attracted to the animal strength in his eyes.

He never threatened or intended to scare me but he was fearless and carried himself that way. When we met he was trying to come off as friendly and harmless as possible but I still saw that in him. And that’s why he took interest in me: I was perceptive like him. Except if his perception was based on being a predator, mine was based on being prey. I was a flight-y little animal by comparison. But I liked our contrast. And so did he.

Rat said only one dose. I was hoping at least three or four. I wanted to try it a few times. And have enough to overdose; if I wanted to. But now I’m hearing the price of one is high?

“How bad is it?” I asked as I braced for the price tag.

“Eleven hundred,” he stated business-like.

“Eleven hundred dollars?” I clarified stupidly. He nodded.

I was in shock. I didn’t have that much on me. I had that in the bank but it took me months to do so. To earn that back at my dead end job, assuming it didn’t go towards not starving or freezing to death. I had school loans to pay of from all my failed attempts to get a degree. I didn’t have half of what my friend wanted and the banks wouldn’t be open for eight hours. I explained that to him.

“I know. I’m sorry. None of my usual friends had it. Even though it’s a more recreational club drug none of them had a source. It’s not in this part of the country. I had to go digging for this. From what I can tell there’s only one group selling it in the midwest. I couldn’t get a discount if I promised to consistently buy and they refused to sell me more than one. Even at a higher price. They were sketchy as hell but I could tell they weren’t cops and they were selling the real deal.“

“Are you going to get in trouble if you don’t make business with them?” I started to worry about my friend and his kneecaps.

“What? No. I already bought it,” he produced a dime bag out of his left jean pocket with an inconspicuous tablet inside: Pon-E. I was surprised to see it. And I didn’t even realize his jeans had real pockets; the women’s jeans looked painted on.

“Wow. That’s it, huh?” I looked closer but not ‘with my hands’; I knew better. It was bland looking; it looked like the Tylenol in my apartment. “I thought they were always capsules?”

“There’s a few different forms but they all have the same effect,” he reassured me.

“But are they all safe?”

“I’m sure this one is. I wouldn’t sell it to you if I thought it wasn’t,” he promised me as he sat the bag down in his lap.

So close, yet so far. And not enough money to my name.

“I… need to pay rent this month. It’s. . . going to be a little while until I can get that much for you,” I said with a sigh.

“I’m really not marking it up much either,” he explained to me. I honestly hadn’t even thought about that. “For all my footwork, and it took a lot to find this, I’m only making one hundred on this. And believe me, I spent more hours than that asking around and driving to get this,” he said with what I understood to be disappointment in his voice. “It was straight up extortion but I couldn’t source it anywhere else and I knew how much you wanted it. My friends on the west coast said there’s been a supply drop and a demand hike. There might be a finite amount and no one making more.

I thought about the situation. If I didn’t know him better I would think this was a trick. A tactic to get as much money as he could from me for something he knew I wanted so much I would give anything for it. Then the guilt trip on top of it to put me on his side. And only selling me one for all that! When he knew I needed at least two. Maybe in an effort to make sure I don’t overdose. If I overdosed then I wouldn’t ever need to buy more, right? Why sell only two when he could sell me one at a time for years? It really did seem like a perfect manipulation of my trust in him.

But I knew this was my paranoia acting up. This was Rat. He never lied. He never even exaggerated. Early on in our friendship I thought some of the stories of his past were impossible. But with time I found every last tall tale was more than true. When I first met him he acted like this past was behind him. But it was all still true. He was the most fascinating person I ever met, particularly his fascination with cars and street racing, a foreign topic to me. And I knew he didn’t lie. And he really did pay that much for a single pill. For me.

“I’m sorry for putting you through all that trouble for nothing. If you don’t find another buyer by next month maybe I’ll have enough,” I turned my head to look out at the inky blackness of his neighborhood and at all the shoveled snow.

I should have jumped on this sooner. Maybe before Princess’s interview? Maybe Princess worked with the manufacturers and now that everyone knew what it did they could charge whatever they wanted. It was all manipulation. Everyone was out to manipulate everyone else. Everyone wanted to get the upper hand on everyone else and you couldn’t trust anyone. And all I wanted was to be happy and be left alone. But content people don’t buy things, do they?

Rat didn’t get out of my car to end the deal. Even after several minutes. The overhead light timed out and he opened the passenger side door and slammed it shut. He was still sitting in his seat when he finally spoke again.

“Pony, I want you to have this,” I turned to look at what he was doing when he placed the baggy with the pill on my lap.

“But I can’t pay you,” I reiterated the obvious. I didn’t touch the pill placed on my thigh out of fear of accepting a trick. Without thought I glanced over at his thighs and compared them to my own. I felt a tinge of weird happiness that despite weighing less than him mine were definitely thicker from the hormones. ‘God, pay attention, faggot.’

“I know. That’s why I’m giving it to you,” he spelled out to me what I wasn’t understanding.

“For free?”

“Yes, ‘for free’; It’s a gift. From one friend to another. “

I picked the little pill up in its bag to look at. This was mine now? This wasn’t a trick? Maybe “first one’s free”? Then he happens to get a hold of another after I take this and this time I have to pay him everything I have? So it seems even more fair?

“But... the money?,” I questioned.

“I’m fine on money. Just promise you’ll take a picture for me; I bet you’re a cute pony,” he said as he gave me smile that was disarmingly gentle. My paranoia told me maybe this was still a trick. Once he had a picture he had proof that I took this one and I wasn’t hoarding it so I could overdose when he got me the second one...

No. No, I knew I had to ignore my paranoia because I had to trust my friend. After all the illegal crap I’ve bought off of him over the years and all the time we’ve spent together he wouldn’t have it all culminate in draining me completely dry now. He knew I didn’t have much money, far less than he did. I had to trust in my friend. Not because it made perfect sense to, but because that’s what you did for friends: you trusted them. It was up to them to decide if they wanted to betray your trust, and not your fault for trusting them. Rat never lied to me. He was a drug dealing, street racing crossdresser and the most trustworthy person I knew.

I started to shake when I realized that this was real. I reached over to hug my friend to calm myself and he reciprocated. I milked that hug for as long as I could until I could feel the shakes stop and the waterworks starting. I pulled away to wipe my eyes. I looked down at the unassuming Pon-E again and smiled at the pill then at him.

‘“So what do you plan to do with it?” he asked with curiosity on his face. He looked amused. I was confused by the question.

“Uh. I’m going to take it on my next night off?” I looked at my phone for the time. I worked at midnight tonight; a few hours from now. My next ‘day’ off was a few days from now.

“No, I mean what are you going to do while you’re a pony? Do you have any plans?”

“Oh. Well, I guess I’m going to try to get the hang of being a pony and watch some MLP,” I felt like that sounded really lame to him. “Oh! And take a few pictures for you. “ I added in case that’s what he was getting at.

“Oh. So just a night in, watching cartoons and trying to use your computer? Are you going to at least see if your roommate wants to play with you?” Rat asked me. He probably thought my plans sounded lame.

“Maybe. But I’m not leaving the apartment. That sounds scary as hell,” I tried to rationalize my lame plans with my overpriced drug he just gave me for free. But I wasn’t entirely sure my friend in a fluffy blue women's coat understood what it felt like to fear people’s reaction to you.

“You know, I have another friend who likes My Little Pony too. When he heard about me tracking down some Pon-E for someone else he said he’d love to meet you. He said he wanted to find out just how cuddly and sensitive ponies were. Would you be interested in that?” he asked me with that sparkle of curiosity still in his eyes.

This time I knew this wasn’t a trap, he was always trying to hook me up with someone. This was just another one of those offers. I always declined and he never pushed it. After some thought on how to word it I replied.

“No, I really want to just do it alone, to be honest. Thanks though,” I pocketed the Pon-E.

“That’s against the guidelines, isn’t it? Taking it alone?” Rat seemed concerned until a sly smile came across his face. Why would we follow guidelines?

The guidelines, as established by those who popularized the drugs was that you shouldn’t name your pony form, take it alone, mix it with other drugs, or take more than one dose in a twenty-four hour period. So of course, I had intentions to violate every single one of those.

We talked about my dad’s health. We talked about Samantha, his old, overpowered Ford GT. He humored me and asked me questions about ponies he wouldn’t understand the context to. I listened politely when he talked cars.

We talked about how we were coping with the gender dysphoria. He was dating a woman who was more than cool with the clothes and whatever kinky shit he did. He made a point to say my hormones were paying off and I thanked him. Then we promised we would go see a cheesy horror movie together soon.

“I have to go get ready for work,” I changed topics.

“So do I,” he smiled at me one last time. “Try to have some fun at work. And tell me how it goes,” he points at the pocket the pill was in before getting out.

“Thanks. Y-You too,” I stutter as he gets out. I think about my words but dismiss it. Eh, he knew what I meant.

As much as I didn’t want to, I had to stop for gas before heading home to get ready for work. I already lived on the edge of the bad part of town but going out to meet Rat put me deep in there. I pulled into a sketchy-ass gas station and parked at a pump. Thinking about the long night ahead of me, I figured I might as well get some caffeine as well.

Getting out of my car and heading inside I had to walk past a parked car. Looking over at it as I passed I saw a middle aged man and woman sitting in there staring directly at me. I had looked over at them just in time to read “-or a woman?” on the lady’s lips. I looked away and pretended I didn’t see them questioning my gender.

Once inside the store I headed to back for the energy drinks. While I meandered staring at the energy drinks, trying to decide on my poison, the man from the car came in for beer and cigarettes. When I finally got to the register behind him he was done paying and was now just flirting with the cashier, asking if she had any tattoos that weren’t visible.

When the cashier spotted me a glimmer of hope entered her eyes. She leaped at a chance to shoo the man and cut him off. “Excuse me sir, I need to help... the woman behind you.”

He grabbed his beer and cigarettes and moved out of my way. Yet when he turned to look back at me behind him I saw him slow for just a moment. There was a slow calculating linger to his movement. He continued heading towards the door but instead of leaving he lingered by it to watch the transaction. He was waiting for something. For me? I did my best to ignore him and focus on the clerk.

When I started paying and told her how much gas I wanted the sleeze at the door made a snicker and finally left. Apparently he was waiting to hear if I sounded like a man or a woman so he could tell the lady back in his car. The clerk, despite hearing my definitely male voice, didn’t apologize earlier for calling me a woman. Did she suspect I was a tranny?

I was, wasn’t I? I took my caffeine and my troubled thoughts and left.

I was lost in thought walking through the parking lot when a sudden car horn went off right next to me.

“Fuck!” I jumped a good foot back and looked up. It was the man and the woman from earlier sitting in the parked car. Apparently having waited for me. The woman in the car was laughing at me. The man blew me a kiss and sneered. I gave him a shrug and and mouthed a “what?” like I didn’t know what it was about.

It was about my appearance.

He tried to beckon me over with one finger and a grin. The woman’s face was twisted with the same malice. It was a dare to come over and talk to him. I shook my head and raced for my car. I wanted to drive away as fast as I could but I remembered I needed gas. As I started pumping my gas I would glance over at their parked car. They continued sitting there while I pumped, not-so-slyly watching me in their side mirrors. They were talking. Probably wondering how to mess with me further. Were they going to follow me? Was I in danger? Should I call someone?

After all my gas was pumped in I put the hose back and looked back over at their car once again. They acted like they weren’t watching me. But then why were they still there? Keeping an eye on them I rushed to re-enter my car…

And stars exploded in my vision as my forehead struck the edge of car door opening. I held my forehead and cursed loudly. Why didn’t I pay attention to what I was doing? I’m so fucking stupid. In my light-headed state I collapsed into the driver’s seat and closed myself out of fear for my own safety. I locked the doors as I glanced into the rearview mirror to assess what I just did.

When the tunnel vision started to fade I could see my forehead was red and angry. Undoubtedly I was going to have a nasty bruise right above my right eye. Fucking perfect.

I looked over towards the car that distracted me and caused this. They were backing out now and leaving. I could make out in the dim light the man waving goodbye to me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

I guess I beat myself up well enough. They mercifully left me.

On the drive home I replayed it in my head. I was such a flighty faggot.

The first thing I did when I got home was wash the foundation and mascara off my face. The asshole in the mirror wouldn’t stop staring at me. I judged and sized him up as he did me. He didn’t really look that female. Forehead and chin were fine. Eyes and cheeks were fine. Even if I ignored the acne scars and awful nose there was just something fundamentally wrong: it was because he wasn’t female. He was male.

Which was something I coped with as best as I could for as long as I could remember. Why did I even try to look feminine? It just gave me unwanted attention. It made it clear I wasn’t normal. Even if I looked female, they got more attention, I didn’t want attention. I started taking the piercings out of my ears for work.

“Fucking faggot,” I said to myself as I tried to shake the thoughts from my head. I started gathering my will to work as I changed into my work clothes. The will never came, not even when I pulled up to the gas station where I worked.

My nine hour shift began. I had nearly five hours completely alone with my thoughts that night. I thought about all my regrets. I thought about how I didn’t know how to get what I wanted. I thought about ponies. I looked forward to taking the Pon-E. I hoped I was a mare. Even if I could get a hold of two I had no plan on how I would live as a pony. Without any money how could I survive? I didn’t have any plans for my future; like a typical tranny.

 

Metamorphosis

I spent an unhealthy amount of my free time on work days looking at the innocent-looking Pon-E tablet Rat acquired for me. I almost called in sick so I could take it sooner. But I was a terrible liar and I wanted a clean conscience on my 12 hour pony high. When I came home exhausted from work on my last day I actually managed to talk myself into showering and going to bed before taking it. It wasn’t going to be perfect, but I had to make my session as perfect as possible.

I woke up around 4 in the afternoon to the sound of my roommate returning from her job. My timing was bad, I wanted to be alone at the beginning of my trip. I would have to wait for her to go to work tomorrow. So I killed time and went to talk with her. She was already camping out on the couch in front of the TV with the game controller in her hand. She was in a fresh change of clothes but still had the lingering smell of stale sweat and cardboard to her. We exchanged awkward greetings as I sat down.

Our friendship hadn’t quite recovered after we broke up. It had been four months and yet sometimes days passed between small exchanges. We both silently knew we could only blame our different schedules so much. I preferred guys but made exceptions. She preferred women or at least ‘female-identifying people’. We were lonely when we met and we needed each other. It was my fault we broke up just as it was my fault we dated in the first place. People thought we were a weird straight couple. Or people who read Tabetha as male figured we were super fags (you know, like regular fags but with capes). Her work probably thinks I came out of the closet or something when I broke it off because I kept getting girlier looking. Tabs figured I was “non-bi nary”. I liked the generic term “gender nonconforming”. But “faggot” was also acceptable.

“So, how did it go with you and Rat the other night?” she asked as she turned from the screen for a moment to look at me. Her voice was admittedly good yet nasally, but I suppose that’s what she was going for. Brown eyes peeked at me through messy black hair. She had been on male-to-female hormones before I even met her and she passed alright. I figured the bit of pudge to her face helped with that. Strangers usually thought nothing of her gender and people who knew her but didn’t know just figured she was a little weird and awkwardly shaped.

I explained the deal with Rat.

At her request I promised Tabetha I’d hang out with her for a while while ponied up. She said she would even take the pictures for Rat. I hadn’t even thought about that: operating a touch screen would be difficult if not impossible. It got me to look around the apartment and decide I was going to clean up a bit for pony me. The apartment needed it and I needed to kill time.

Once Tabs was asleep I decided to hit the hay too. I had just woken up six hours before but years of working overnights destroyed my internal clock. I took twelve milligrams of melatonin on top of my tranny pills to make sure it would happen

I woke up the next morning to the sound of the apartment door open, close, then lock. Tabetha had gone to work. I was alone now. Pon-E time!

There was nothing to wait on now. I poured some water, grabbed the tablet and after some debate I decided to do it in the bathroom where the only mirror was. Pill in mouth. Add water. Swallow.

There was no taste.

Wasn’t it supposed to taste like spaghetti? Was that just an Internet joke?

I waited and looked in the mirror for change. A minute passed I didn’t feel any different. I took my shirt and pants off to look for changes.

I inspected a long haired-skinny guy in his underwear in the mirror. There was a gnarly blue bruise on his forehead above his right eye.

Maybe he was too skinny. He had some hips and a narrowed waist but he didn’t really have breasts, it was more like gynecomastia; bitch tits. There were acne scars from puberty matching his face on his chest as well. I turned to the side and looked down his back. Nothing new. This person looked the way he did yesterday.

I went to go get my phone in the bedroom to keep time. When I did I realized I had shut the bathroom door earlier. If I was going to lose my hands for the next 12 hours I would have been stuck in there until at least Tabetha came home; 8 hours.

As I walked back into my bedroom I realized just how sore I felt. I do sleep funny. Actually, the muscles in my back and shoulders were really sore. And my ankles and wrists. When I tried to pick up my phone my fingers fumbled to grasp it. They were tingling. As if they were falling asleep.

I rushed back to the bathroom. The same tingling that was in my fingers began in my toes as well then immediately flooded the rest of my skin. It wasn’t unlike a body part falling asleep or being numbed. I looked back at the guy in the mirror.

The bruise above the eye was gone.

My skin was practically buzzing when I saw patches of skin start to grow dark. The person in the mirror grinned up at me.

“Twelve hours of pure pony pleasure.“

As if on cue my fingers and toes started to cramp bad. Really bad. I could feel nerves pinching and unpinching, I could feel movement underneath my still-buzzing skin. It wasn’t a crawling bug sensation. It was a shifting sensation.

My fingers and toes twitched involuntarily like I had some nerve degenerative disorder. It felt like something was grabbing them from inside and trying to pull them in. The stiffness hurt. My arms spasmed as if to shake the muscles right but they didn’t stop.

In an effort to take as much weight off my cramping toes I was going to put more weight onto the ball of my foot but found the back of my feet were off the ground. I was standing on the front of my foot and no matter how I tried I couldn’t get it to go down. I looked at my hands again to see what those were doing. My fingers were shortening and my palms were. . . barreling?

Right, horses walk on big toes. What was often mistaken for a backwards elbow was the wrist. The elbow was-

My elbows.

I lifted up my arms to get a better look at them. My upper arms were shortening while the length of my palm kept extending, it looked like my palm was eating my fingers as it stretched and overtook my ever shrinking pinkie fingers. Seeing patches of blue fur growing on my arms distracted me from my fingers. Blue? I was blue. Not a sky or navy but a richer blue, like a deep cobalt. It immediately reminded me of that dark time just before sunrise. I touched it with the remains of my fingers. It was incredibly soft. Velvety soft even. It felt amazing to touch it. It sent shivers up my spine and made me feel warm.

I looked up to see what was going on in mirror world. The patches of blue were popping up everywhere now and still spreading. The hair on my head had grown even longer and looked like it was turning an even darker shade of blue with a hint of violet.

My chest was gone. Did I still have nipples?

I felt around the patches of fur on my chest with my hand-hooves then down my torso. The texture on my stomach was sensitive and ticklish. I stopped at my underwear. The band was chaffing me now. Didn’t stallions not have nipples? On regular horses they didn’t.

I pulled my underwear down with the nubs of fingers I had left to look for my lost nipples. The thick, widening nail on my middle fingers scratched at my sides as I did so.

There they are! Also apparently I had a boner for some reason.

“Found my nipples!” I tried to say. Instead “fan mpplz” came out. ‘What the hell is wrong with my tongue?’ Instead of inspecting my junk further I went to inspect why I couldn’t talk.

I opened my mouth and looked inside with the mirror. My teeth were still the same but my tongue was too wide and too long for my mouth now. A tongue for a muzzle.

I watched the mirror like that for a second just to take it all in. My body was rapidly changing colors everywhere and things were shortening and lengthening. The blue fur finished taking over my skin. Face and all. My darker blue mane was all the way down my chest and I could make out lighter strands of highlights in it.

There was a furry standing in the mirror now.

My arms were proportionally weird and my fingers had atrophied into nubs except for the middle ones was growing longer as my hand grew rounder. I could still feel that yanking feeling on the inside of my fingers. The yanking was a sharp cramp in all their joints now.

My dick maybe had shrunk but it was still way too excited for its own good. I gently batted it with my hand-hooves out of curiosity. It seemed about the same.

I tried to check my phone for the time. My fingers were useless now. The only one of any length was my middle and it was too long to use to grip my phone. All I did was knock it across the counter but my phone got the idea and flashed the time at me. Eight minutes have passed. I thought it was faster than that?

At some point after that the buzzing feeling on my skin transitioned into more of a hum and felt deeper now.

I felt flushed and could feel my coat start to dampen with sweat. Maybe the fur was getting to me? I leaned in closer to inspect my eyes. My pupils were enormous like I was on cocaine. I wondered if that was part of the high or if I was just enraptured by the transformation happening: I was becoming a pony!

Leaning in made me realize my leg muscles were on fire from my toes, deep into my thighs and through my ass. It felt like I had been running for hours.

Now that I was paying attention to my physical state I realized I was breathing heavy too. In fact, the glass to the mirror was fogging up from it all.

I needed more air. A LOT more air. My lungs were on fire. My chest was on fire. I felt my stomach with my forelimbs. My skin was incredibly warm. It felt like my abs were heating up. It was a deep, sore warmth like a hard workout and it started to spread to nearby muscles. Just like the fur it started to happen in patches as it worked to take over everything.

I began to worry about my physical condition because I felt I was too warm. I was too sore. Was I going to have a stroke?

‘Your muscles hurt; let them rest,’ my brain told me, based on millions of years of evolution.

That made sense. I tried to leave the bathroom to lay down.

I made it about one step and a stumble. After the first step I realized my foot was no longer shaped anything like I expected it to be and I lost my balance and fell forward. I tried to catch myself with my other foot but found the same problem.

I reached out to grab the door frame with my forearms but I couldn’t grab anything with it.

Hallway floor it is.

Between my shoulder and my face I couldn’t decide what I wanted to land on and ended up landing on both. The crash was deafening and I was glad the neighbors downstairs were evicted last month.

The pain in my shoulder felt appropriate with the warmth of the muscles there. My cheekbone stung like hell but apparently it’s harder to break your face than I thought.

Against the cold wooden floor I had trouble discerning the hum coming from my body from the hum of the AC unit in the closet nearby.

The cold floor felt nice for a minute.

The coldness of the floor was no match for the heat radiating from my body though and pretty soon the cold spot on the floor was a warm spot. If it wasn’t for the sweat dampening my fur and the floor around me it felt like I could set the floor on fire. I felt feverish.

My heart was racing and my breath was rapid and shallow. Everything was on fire and I couldn’t catch my breath no matter how much air I sucked in. I was dizzy and not entirely sure it was just from the fall.

The floor wasn’t helping now: it was just as warm as me. The air around me felt moist too. I needed to move.

When I landed I had closed my eyes and hadn’t reopened them. When I opened them back up to move I saw my fingernails, all two of them, were black and freakishly wide.

I tried to lift myself up but all my muscles shook and buckled. My arms couldn’t push me up, my sides hurt like I had been bruised from repeated kicks on the ground on all sides. My core was too exhausted and felt like they were worked to a breaking point. I couldn’t get up. The dizziness magnified until it felt like I was spinning. I felt lighter. If it wasn’t for the floor I wouldn’t know which way was down.

My body stuck to the floor with sweat. I noticed my limbs still faintly worked on their own but were weak. My mane made my sweaty head easier to move against the ground though. I slowly swiveled my head ‘up’ to check my orientation. My body was still pointed towards my bedroom just across from the bathroom. I could tell there was a lot of wonderful, cold floor in there.

If that was ‘up’ then the bathroom was ‘down’. I could push against the door frame with my legs.

My legs, the back ones, felt like they were shorter now but like I had very, very long feet hanging from them. I felt like a roofied, melting kangaroo who just lost a kickboxing match in an oven.

I was about to blindly kick and push against the door frame when between the spinning, overheating and racing heartbeat my stomach got into the mix and I started to choke up water and partially digested food. My chest muscles seized up harder than they ever had and my throat muscles flipped their switch into reverse.

It felt like some of the internal heat left my body with last night’s dinner. I always felt better after I vomited. I prayed for a cold, porcelain toilet bowl to appear so I could press my head against it. But toilets don’t appear out of floors made of sweat and matted fur. What I really wanted right now was a cold shower. What I thought I could reach was a cold floor.

I swung my legs up blindly and kicked at the door frame behind me with my kangaroo feet. I swung hard but there was no sensation that I stubbed my toes. Instead it felt like I had hit my toenails against the door with a dull thud. It was two dense toenails that pushed me a few inches further into my room. My thighs were incredibly thick now and were where most of my drag was coming from. The floor inches in front of my face now felt like it was radiating cool air like a freezer. That was enough to convince my hoof arms they still had enough strength that they could still be used as leverage against the open bedroom door frame even if the muscles had given up.

I was halfway done dragging myself into the room when my back started screaming at me to stop doing whatever it was that I was doing immediately. Close enough; the floor was cold again. I closed my eyes in an attempt to suppress the pressure building behind them. I continued to lay on my side to figure out what the hell was going on now with my back.

My spine was crinkling. Did moving while transforming paralyze me? When I tried moving a stiff, numb leg or one of the noodly, cramping forelimbs that used to be my arms to confirm, I could feel muscles in my back tightening and constricting. It was knotting up and bulging. I felt the reoccurring burning warmth at the breaking point. The heat that burned my muscles from the inside out was rolling up and down my spine now from the tip of my neck down to my ass, further cramping and aggravating my muscles. I felt like my entire back was a highway with millions of fire ants traveling up and down it.

There was a pleasant warmth spreading in my groin. I felt like I pissed my non-existent pants. I could tell very well I still had something that was like a dick and it was begging for attention. I couldn’t reach it though without generating more pain in my back.

I heard distant moans and I felt my ears rotate to try and locate where it was coming from. It was coming from me. Wait, my ears moved?

I opened my eyes for the first time in minutes. My floor and bookshelf looked incredibly vibrant. My walls were more off-white than I realized. The god rays coming through my blinds told me it was a fucking beautiful day outside.

I felt the side of my head with my hoof. My head felt bigger but my ears were gone? They flinched in response and I was able to locate them nearby. They were on top of my head now. I felt the pointy ears flop and rotate against my hoof. When the hell did that happen? I didn’t feel them move.

My limbs felt dull and ached all the way through now. My chest ached. My pelvis ached. The all over ache deepened and began to warm. I felt a deep grinding sensation in my limbs and chest. The warm ache in my skull grabbed my jaw and nose and felt like it was pushing my face from my skull. My headache intensified.

At the same time as it felt like my face was being ripped off, I felt something grab the base of my spine and pull my spine out through the bottom of my pelvis. I was being ripped in half long-ways.

As if in the hands of a demented chiropractor, the pulling from both ends caused all the tension in my back to finally come loose and I felt my back explode. I saw bursts of light behind my screwed-shut eyes. There was stabbing pain in my back that was climbing higher and higher towards the ceiling. I could no longer understand what was going on. It felt like my skeleton wasn’t down with this and was fucking leaving. It felt like I was soil growing a pair of bone trees. I didn’t want to be a tree. I felt something hot start dripping off the ‘branches’ onto my back. Blood? Sweat? Semen?

The pain was too much. The wind must have been knocked out of me because I breathed in deep and felt my chest fill with air so I could start crying. Hot tears rolled down my face. It felt like my jaw and nose were being pushed off my face from the inside.

‘My face is coming off’.

I buried my face into my hooves to try and stop it.

Meanwhile I couldn’t stop my spine coming out the other end and the rest of my skeleton was escaping out my back. I felt my spine snap. Mercifully, the pain finally made me black out.

 

Pon-E is a Hell of a Drug

I came to and could tell I was still lying on my bedroom floor. I was still alive. The pain was gone, the dizziness was gone. Even the headache was gone. I felt amazing. What was the catch?

I opened my eyes and looked down the end of my muzzle at my hooves. My face was still on me as far as I could tell, but now it was longer. I had a muzzle.

I felt my ears perk up and the end of my spine shift. My whole back shifted. What was that?

I lifted my head off my hooves to investigate but got distracted by just how long my neck was. Was I a pony or a giraffe? I was sprawled out on my chest but it felt like I was sitting upright. Looking around my room to test this I noticed my field of vision seemed wider. Colors were more vivid and everything was more detailed. I didn’t think I needed glasses before but now my vision was so sharp I couldn’t help but noticing the stitching on my comforter and I could see now what I thought was my gray comforter had a slight blue tint to it.

It felt like something near my butt stirred again and brushed against my back legs. My ears perked up and it felt like in response to me noticing something else stood up on my back.

Something was on top of me.

I swirled my head around a whole 180 degrees and came face-to-face with wings. It’s a bird! I saw a horse tail lift up in surprise not too far behind them. Wait, it’s pegasus? My eyes followed the back of the pegasus until my vision came to the base of my neck.

The pegasus had my neck. But that means she had my head. But I had my head. My head was me. And so was my body.

My wings relaxed once I figured out what the hell was going on. My wings. It’s me.

Not my fastest realization. I could feel a smile grow underneath my muzzle. I felt my tail wag a little and saw it dance in my vision. My tail. I shifted it again, this time voluntarily. It tickled the back of my hind legs.

My wings slowly came to rest beside me. Knowing how they felt as they relaxed, I tried reversing it and raised them back up. It worked. I tried raising just the left and could feel a similar reaction. Down again. Up again. I tried moving them in other directions and found they rotated at the base and bent in the middle like an elbow. They were arms but on my back. It instinctively just made sense how to move them. I tried to wiggle the ‘fingers’ on them. I felt something like a thumb and two conjoined toes but I couldn’t see them among the feathers and they were too far from each other to touch.

Feathers. I had feathers. Two beautiful fans of them in my surprisingly large wings. They seemed huge compared to the show. I didn’t know how big a pony could smile but I felt my smile growing more. I was a pony! A pegasus pony! I never had a desire to fly. I never even had dreams where I was flying. I figured I was just going to be an “earth” pony. But now that I saw my beautiful wings I never wanted to be without them again.

I needed a mirror. I went to stand up to rush to the mirror. Instead of standing I clamored to a half stand then immediately fell right back onto my now smaller shoulder and longer face. That felt familiar. It felt like a much shorter fall than the one I had earlier though.

I tried slowly picking myself up again. I pushed off the ground with one foreleg. Then my other until only my back side was on its side. Then I rolled my lower body over and caught myself with my back legs as if I was standing up from a prone position. But Instead of pushing off with my ‘arms’ I stopped. My limbs shook with uncertainty. Was I standing right?

My legs and ‘arms’ felt shorter now but my hands and feet felt awkwardly long now and like I was standing on the tips of them like a ballerina wearing little hooven shoes. I guess that made sense.

I tried fully extending my legs to stand as straight as possible. Then I lifted my neck up to what felt like a comfortable position and looked forward. My incredibly long mane just barely cleared the floor. I relaxed my leg muscles a little.

This was my height now. Everything seemed higher up now. I looked around for something to gauge my height. My shelves were taller than me but just so. The alarm clock sitting on top said about half an hour had passed. I wonder how long of that I was out?

I saw the handle of my closet door was close to eye level. It was just about at my chin. Door handles were mouth height.

“I wonder if-” I started to say but stopped talking when I heard my voice was higher. I reached for my throat and then fell forward back onto the ground with my face. If I kept doing that I was going to bruise my face.

I sat upright and felt my throat again. The bulge in my trachea that had taunted me for half my life was gone. Did stallion ponies even have ‘adam’s apples’?

“My. . . voice?” I tested it. I never had a particularly deep voice but now I sounded angelic by comparison even in my head. I wanted to hear it again. “H-hello?”

It sounded foreign, but my voice always sounded foreign to me. Now it sounded pretty though. I laughed in happiness and it came out more like a giggle. Which made me laugh louder. I kept laughing until I started snorting. Except instead of sounding like snorting it came out more like a whinny.

“I’m a pony!” I said aloud and kicked all my hooves excitedly while still laying on my stomach the ground. They all clicked like tap shoes. This feeling made me want to run around and jump off the furniture even if I had no idea how to do that. Everything felt good. Pon-E was definitely a street drug because this was definitely a high.

I tried to lower my wings on top of me and felt them drape on top of my back and across my shoulders like a short blanket made of downy feathers. The way the feathers brushed against my coat I could tell my coat was incredibly soft. I craned my head up against this blanket with my forelegs, I tried to push myself into my wings. My wings felt wonderful but strangely damp like someone sprayed them with water. There was a strange but intoxicating smell to them not unlike a newborn baby. My back birthed wings. Out of curiosity I licked them. It tasted the way it smelled. There was a slight waxy feeling in my mouth.

I lifted off my fore legs and arched my back up against my downy feathers. My spine tingled. I felt shivers run down spine from the tips of my wings and down to base of my tail. My tail lifted in reception to all the tingling. I lifted my butt higher and splayed my forelegs out onto the ground trying to get as much arch as I could. My back kept tingling and sent my winged blanket shivering.

My dark blue mane fell in front of my face and curtained my room from my vision. All I could make out was my muzzle and my forelegs. I brushed my muzzle against my legs. Every strand of fur on my face and arms tickled itself. It was like a fuzzy blanket. I was high; I just wanted to cuddle and touch myself like I took too much ecstasy alone. I would have kept rubbing fur against fur if there wasn’t another part of me wanting attention.

Whatever used to be my dick now felt incredibly small and tucked away but still incredibly pent up; it needed to be touched. But I wasn’t sure I could reach it while laying on my barrel chest.

I lifted up to a standing position again on my wobbly Bambi legs and thought about how to get into a sitting position. I leaned forward to get all my weight onto my front legs and lowered my butt as far as it would go until my back legs splayed out. When my ass crashed to the floor it jiggled slightly.

The plop brought a gasp to my lips. Sweet Celestia, it sounded girly. And now with my sex under my nostrils I could make out a much different smell. A musky, sweet smell. It smelled delicious. I could see now there was a crease where my dick used to be. I investigated with my hooves. Wow, yup, that was a mare vag’.

I gingerly touched the outside of this development with my foreleg, wary of putting my hard hoof near it. Something inside felt good. I rubbed harder. My head felt fuzzy and my hoof felt wet. The high of being a pony suddenly relaxed into a warm drunken feeling all over me. I needed more. I delicately tried grinding deeper with my leg. As I worked my foreleg up and down my little black hoof was clicking against the wooden floor. It was clopping. I was clopping.

The fuzzy light-headedness in my head grew down towards my spine. I could feel my wings gently lift on their own, as if making room for the glow taking over. I greedily prodded deeper until I found the source of all this pleasure. My chest tightened at the electric stab.

I had to pull my hoof away as in shock but I coaxed my hoof came back to it. Yes. Another deep flick. My hoof felt wet and and muscles around it tightened helplessly. Another strange noise came out of my mouth halfway between a moan and a squeak. The angelic noises made me feel so innocent but my hoof was so naughty and I couldn’t stop it.

“Yes, violate me, Mr. Hoof,” I started talking to myself. “I’m a dirty pony.” I would laugh at myself but I was too drunk now on this gentle feeling. I worked harder to keep the cloudy feeling spreading. I brought my soaked hoof up to my muzzle to inhale deeply. It smelled so good it was like I could get drunk off it. I licked my hoof and surrounding fur clean to check. I was faintly sweet but gave away to a grassy sexual musk. Grassy? I tasted like a cartoon horse. It wasn’t bad at all. I needed more.

My hoof and body grinded against each other. There was a deep, carnal ache inside of me. As good as my new favorite spot felt, I knew there was a void that needed to be filled. I fantasized about horse cocks and imagined them filling me whole. Yes, that’s working. I imagined stallions taking me and making me their cocksleeve. I wanted them to stir my insides up with their oversized dicks in ways a hoof couldn’t. I wanted to glaze their dick in my juices and milk them hard with my muscles. I wanted to be filled with hot stallion spunk and bred like a good little mare.

My favorite spot suddenly came to the surface and brushed my leg. The rumbling, drunken cloud inside me suddenly sparked like lightning in a storm cloud. It scattered down my limbs. My back legs kicked with little ‘clops’, my forelegs shivered and my wings stretched out and fell down. I could move it. I teased it again, this time intentionally. I can wink.

I brushed my hoof against my naked and exposed sex. Another jolt wrecked my brain and made me arch my back. It scattered my thoughts and left my body through a shriek out my muzzle.

My body was shivering with electricity. My mind was completely lost in the drunken storm. I kept rubbing myself. My loud panting was the drunk sexual cloud billowing out of me uncontrollably, I was unable to contain all of this.

“Ah, Chance” I croaked out as a naughty idea floated up in the one-track mind. I wanted to buck myself for not getting it out sooner. I stopped touching myself long enough to flop onto my stomach and scoot underneath my bed. The cool wood rubbing the fur on my belly tingled and distracted me while I searched for my toy.

I found the discrete shoebox I was looking for and fumbled it forward with both hooves, somehow not just knocking it away. Without any ceremony and a surprising amount of dexterity I threw the lid off and pulled out the red horse dildo resting on its towel.

“You wanna be my boyfriend for tonight?” I talked dirty to the beautiful inanimate object resting in my hooves. My once angelic voice was now dripping with lust. In reply I swore ‘he’ glistened. He looked practically like candy. ‘Chance’ was fully erect and his head was flared; he was ready to go.

I got him to stand up on his oversized balls like a good boy but my back legs and forelegs couldn’t work together long enough to position myself over him. I would fall down aay from him or knock him over.

He was fucking teasing me.

In desperation I sat back onto my haunches and scooted him to me instead. I rubbed his head against my wet and ready hole. The way it speared my lips apart effortlessly told me he belonged inside of me. The hard head tried to deeper inside me. All my muscles eagerly clamped before I could even to push him further in, I was too eager. I had to relax but I couldn’t. I needed this.

Thankfully my muscles were no match for his firm erection. Soon enough his cock overpowered me and my muscles relaxed around him, aching with tension. He was noticeably colder than my melting insides.

“Let me warm you up,” I worked it into a narrative in my head.

Chance was unsteady and unsure of himself but he was extremely eager. He worked himself slightly further even as he trembled with me. My winking marehood pulsed against his shaft uncontrollably and I tightened up again. At this rate I couldn’t get him all inside of me. I was shaking from all the spasms and couldn’t think straight anymore.

Chance was young and inexperienced. It was both of ours first times. He was the handsomest stallion my age. We were always ‘just friends’. One humid summer day I stopped by the ranch to give him some water. From the summer sweat he could smell I was in heat and it was too much for him and he mounted me right there in the middle of the day in the field.

‘I’m his toy’, I thought. “I’m Chance’s toy.‘ I relaxed and let him overpower me. His cock lead my body and my body followed. Each pull out my body begged for it back in. There was no way we were getting his whole cock in this time. This time. I wanted him to buck me later. I needed him to keep reusing me forever. I was a hole for his cock and I wanted him to fill me with his seed.

The alcoholic haze clouding my mind ignited. My hips were bucking uncontrollably against his cock as I orgasmed. He tried to pull out but I was milking his cock for all its worth with each pulse of his hot jizz destroying my delicate mare insides. Our juices overflowed and spilled out of me. I was a ruined, broken toy. I tested just how loud I could moan with each last squeeze until everything grew took weak and I went limp like I was suddenly made of gelatin.

“I hope I’m pregnant,” I told myself during the afterglow as Chance still laid partially inside of me.

 

As I was catching my breath my mental faculties started to come too and Chance the stallion left me as soon as he arrived. I was back in my human room. I was lying on my back on the floor alone with a dildo and really in need of a cigarette. The tips of my wings and hooves tingled as a reminder of what I just did.

“Not your most shameful masturbation session,” I reassured myself aloud. I smiled at the sound of my voice. I was still an adorable pony. I still had adorable hooves and amazing wings. An adorable voice.

“I’m a girl,” I said it out loud to test the statement. I heard a cartoon pony say those words. It wasn’t the first time I tried saying those words in my life but I always had trouble believing it. This time it at least sounded true.

My nostrils were bombarded with smells as I came back to reality: I could smell my sexual fluids. I could smell urine. And there was some other stench much further away.

I rolled onto my stomach. My horse dildo brushed against my hooves and I shooed it away as I looked towards where the smell was coming from.

There was vomit outside my door reminding me that I threw up when I turned. I looked to where I had just been laying. Chance sat near a smelly puddle of what smelled like pony pussy and pee. “Ugh,” I said in disgust as I stood up on all four hooves to go get a towel.

I took two steps forward and fell in an uncoordinated mess. At least it wasn’t on the face this time. I laid there on the floor once again to think about what I did.

I learned how to masturbate before I learned how to walk, I realized.

“Okay, maybe your most shameful,” I acknowledged as I stood up again.

Walking on all fours wasn’t too difficult, just a matter of trial and error. When I heard that familiar and wonderful clip-clop rhythm coming from my hooves as I stepped forward I knew I had something close to normal. The order was essentially crawling on my tiptoes, like a bear crawl. I had trouble turning when I stood too close to walls but resetting my hooves got me rotated in a better direction. Turning gradually with my front first and letting my back hooves rotate made me feel a little like a car on hooves when I cornered. It worked.

My first order of pony business was cleaning up after myself. A still slightly damp bathroom towel from my hamper was the perfect thing to wipe everything up. At first I tried holding it in my mouth while I wiped but my stance was too awkward so I just let the towel do its thing and kind of kicked and rolled it around. It took twice as long as it did with hands but I expected that.

As I dropped the towel on the vomit in the hallway I couldn’t help but look over at the bathroom. There was a mirror in there.

I didn’t knew what I looked like. I had to know.

I tiptoed around my absorbing towel to head towards the bathroom. My vision could just see over the sink but all I could make out in the bathroom mirror was my ears and the top of my head. Carefully I set each forehoof onto counter and stood myself up onto my hind legs.

Looking back at me in the mirror was me. I had enormous golden-colored irises with an orange center. My eyes shined so brightly in the overhead light the thought of a sunrise immediately came to mind. Below my set of eyes was a dainty little mare muzzle beaming with a smile so hard my cheeks hurt.

“I’m a mare,” I said to my smiling self to confirm the unmistakable truth. I saw my wings rise behind me happily. “Sweet Celestia, I’m friggin’ adorable.”

The endorphins flooding my brain was better than the high I felt masturbating as a pony. I kept smiling at myself and looking over my face and hooves. I flipped my ears up and down, shook my mane and admired the highlights. I made faces in the mirror at myself and kept looking away and looking back from different angles. Every time I looked back I still looked like a mare.

“What do I call you?” I asked myself. I saw the hesitance in my eyes in the mirror. I knew the dangers of a name fully well. You weren’t supposed to name your pony self. Names were powerful. When you named something you grew attached to it and gave it power.

For the same reason, even though I thought since 5 or 6 me being a girl made more sense, I didn’t dare name myself. I was scared to give a name to it because then I would be acknowledging the problem. After finally explaining the mental disorder to my parents before I started hormones they did come up with a name. But never used it. Instead everyone including my parents called me various nicknames. That’s the way it always was anyway. Work was the only place I went by my birth name consistently.

My sad expression in the mirror brought me back to reality. I looked back into my beautiful eyes. They burned like twin suns. I wasn’t going to deny myself this time. I wanted a pony name.

“...Sunrise?” I tilted my head and mulled it over. No.

“Sunny?” No.

“....Twin Suns?” No.

“Pony?” Why yes, I was a pony and I did go by that with Rat and his friends but that was a dumb name for an actual pony.

“Pony pony?” No.

“Sun pony?” No, that was Celestia.

Although I could stare into my eyes all day, it didn’t make sense for a blue pony to be named after her yellow and orange eyes.

“Blue?” No. I knew a ‘Blue’.

“Blue Sunrise?” No. That almost worked, but that had to be a cocktail and I had never even seen it.

“I guess I’ll get to the name later. “

I stole a glance from my eyes long enough to look at my phone waiting on the counter where I had left it. Gently pressing my hoof onto my screen and dragging it over to me woke it up: an hour had passed since my transformation. 7 hours until Tabetha came back. 11 hours to pony still.

After tossing my soiled, vomit-covered towel back into my hamper I looked about my room where I spent nearly all of my free time. I walked over to my computer desk and the chair in front of it.

I already threw up once today so getting into a rolling, spinning desk chair sounded like a terrible idea.The desk however was about neck height. The monitor was just above my eye level while standing. I could even make out the lettering on the keyboard keys.

I used my forelegs to lean on the desk and get a better look at the keyboard.

Pressing keys on the keyboard was easy! But pressing only one key tested my patience. The very edge of my hoof had to be used and even then sometimes I still hit two by accident. It took me minutes to get past my password screen. By then my foreleg hurt from leaning on it.

I felt like an idiot for not thinking this “pony thing” through better. I intended to just ‘rough it out’ and see how hard everything was to do. But considering the computer was the best way to pass time I should have at least thrown myself a bone and thrown everything onto the floor. Trying to move the mouse around with any dexterity was the breaking point, that seemed absolutely impossible. My interest waned because of the difficulty to use it.

Instead I headed into the living room. I enjoyed just walking around our little apartment as a little pony: everything looked taller and the what sounded like coconut halves being clicked together followed me everywhere.

I turned on the TV by pressing the power button on the edge of the remote. The game console was as easily powered by pressing the center button of its controller on the couch. While those loaded I dared to trot a little faster into the kitchen. The speed was exciting. I grinned like an idiot at the change in acoustics to my clip-clop sound as I went from wood to linoleum. It was the little things.

The kitchen counters were far above me, as was the freezer, but the refrigerator door was easy enough to push open.

If there was one thing I didn’t mess up, it was pony-friendly food. I had a bag of carrots and a bag of apples on the lowest shelf and bottles of water which looked easy enough to open with my teeth.

I was going to save the apples for last but I heard how good those things were as a pony so went after those first. I carried them in their plastic produce bag in my mouth and set them onto the couch then trotted back to the fridge to grab one of the waters. I kicked the refrigerator shut with a back leg and went back to the couch and climbed onto it. The console’s home screen on TV waited for me.

“Ha ha! Time for ponies,” I said as I hooved the thumb stick with my hoof. The controller was easy enough to operate as long as I had it sitting in front of me. At least as far as I could tell. I wasn’t really interested in games or testing my hoof dexterity with them. I started Season 2 of My Little Pony. I tore the bag of apples open with my teeth as Cheerilee started explaining Discord to her class. All four of my apples were a different cultivar; from Jonagold to Granny Smith. Tearing into the bag released a wonderful aroma. I was already drooling in anticipation but now I couldn’t help myself.

Even without hands to maneuver the fruits better, I had all four apples chiseled down to nubs by the time Discord was defeated. I wasn’t sure if I was just really in the mood for apples or if the pony high made apples more tasty but each one was better than the last. I had a pleasant sugar high. I licked at the apple juices around my mouth. I sat with the shreds of apple cores lying in front of me on the bag for several episodes. Everything was perfect so I had no intention of getting up.

The water bottle was easy enough to work open but once it was open the flimsiness of bottle made me spill it on the couch and on myself as I drank. Little pony muzzles were not designed for water bottles either. I had to stick the opening further into my mouth than I was used to in order to fit it under my muzzle and it still dribbled out of the corners of my mouth when I tipped it up to drink it.

And, I realized, once the cap was off I had no easy way to reseal it. At that revelation I just downed it as quickly as I could because I knew I was going to just spill it all anyway. The front of me was wet when I finished but I didn’t care. It was just water.

“Straws maybe,” I mumbled to myself as I pushed the bottle onto the same bag my apple carcasses were on.

I was on a pony marathon and saw no reason to stop. The overly familiar episodes were comfortable in a ritualistic way. The less familiar ones still entertaining. If an episode got boring I tried to see it from another character’s perspective. Sisterhooves Social was playing and I thought about what Scootaloo must have thought about all of this at the time. Probably trying to build up the courage to talk to Rainbow Dash about wanting her to be her sister. She was probably intentionally avoiding the rest of the CMC because of what they were doing. That’s why she wasn’t in the episode. Or, you know, the writer thought it was just convenient to leave her out because she wasn’t relevant.

It was about around Secret of My Excess that I felt nature calling. The whole process of sitting on the toilet was incredibly awkward. From getting on it, trying to relax while also trying not to fall in and to getting off of it.

“Everything is doable with hooves. It just takes longer,” I told myself after my five minute bathroom experience told me so. I used my hoof to flush. I flicked the bathroom light off by running my wing down the wall. I couldn’t wash my hooves but I wasn’t germaphobic enough to care.

I trotted back into the living room. I was still in love with the sound my hooves made. It made me giddy. I sped up and dived onto the couch. When I landed I broke into laughter. I felt like a kid again.

I bounced on the couch then jumped off the side. It was a rough landing but I landed on all four hooves. 6/10. I did it again with a little more confidence. Better. 7/10.

I got back onto the couch for a third go but looked back up at my wings this time. If I practiced enough I could fly. It seemed as incredible as becoming a pony but here I was standing on my couch with four hooves and two wings as My Little Pony played in the background.

I experimentally tried to flap my wings. I wasn’t sure I was doing it right. I knew there were a few videos and explanations on how to do it but I had just glossed over it. Plus you had to tilt them and stuff in flight, right? Well I guess I had time.

Back to my room and my computer. My login had timed out. I leaned onto my desk and tried to put the password in again. The backspace key was getting a lot of use. I looked around my room and grabbed a pencil. Using my mouth was slower and more annoying but much more accurate. I didn’t even bother with the mouse. The start menu got me to the web browser. The web browser got me to the search engine. Slow, careful typing. Halfway through I stopped to rest for a minute. My neck really didn’t like this. I looked at my wings while I lifted my neck up to rest. There were digits in my wings, right? Somewhere? I wiggled them again. The wings at the very end and in the middle seemed to move with it. But they were covered in feathers and I didn’t think they could press anything.

“Back to typing,” I said with my pencil still in my mouth. I lowered my head and finished my search result. The first result was what I wanted. 20 careful pokes on the tab key it was finally highlighted. It was loading.

Disappointingly no video started playing. Didn’t have my headphones on anyway. Would those even fit right anymore? The browser window wasn’t maximized. Scrolling was a pain.

The article said something about having a spotter. Something about having plenty of room for taking off and landing. Wing care caught my attention. A white pony with a maroon mane in the picture had her wings folded neatly to her side. I felt like I had bad posture now for just letting mine hang loose or barely tucked. I scrolled a little more before lifting my head up again. My neck was hurting again.

The same white pony was preening her wings in the next picture. There was a before and after but I could hardly tell the difference. I guess they were tidier and shinier?

I heard the mane six laughing in the other room on the television. I was missing ponies! I retired to the couch. While watching I idly “worked” on my wings some. I wasn’t sure what I was doing besides making sure they were layered right but it was calming and kept my muzzle buried in that lovely smell still in my wings.

Just about the time Fluttershy was learning to be more assertive I heard the front door unlock. I jumped off the couch (8/10 landing) and darted for the door. It opened just in time for me to sit down on my haunches. Tabetha was home!

She looked down at me in awe with those wonderful almond eyes of hers.

“B? Is that really you? You’re so adorable!”

“I know!,” I said excitedly and stood up. I swelled with pride and raised my wings up to display them. My tail brushed back and forth on the ground behind me. Its wagging gave away just how excited I was.

“Your wings are so pretty! Can you fly??” She hurriedly closed the door behind her and kicked her shoes off; I had her full and undivided attention.

“There’s a bit of a learning curve with that,” I said as I turned to the side. I hopped and flapped my wings a few times to demonstrate. I achieved no lift. “You have to use a horse tail as tailfeathers. And you need a running start. “

“Well your wings are still amazing just like the rest of you!” she said as she squatted down to be more eye level with me. After she admired my wings for a while and I moved them around for her a bit I nonchalantly folded them up and tucked them against my sides.

“So I became a pony. How was your day?” I beamed at her a bit with a silly grin on my pony face.

“I don’t really want to talk about work,” she said as she stood up from me and looked at the TV still playing ponies. She smiled and looked down at me. “Don’t fly away on me, okay? I’ll be right back.“ She said as she went to her room to change.

I went back over to the couch and saw my bag and bottle were still there. Embarrassed for leaving trash out I grabbed the bag and ran over to the trash and deposited it in. Then ran back to the couch to grab the bottle and throw it away too.

“What are you doing in there??” she said as she came back with her shirt in her hand instead of on her.

“N-nothing! Just picking up,” I grinned sheepishly up at her. I forgot how nice her chest was. She put her shirt on in front of me.

“I heard your hooves,” She smiled at me. “It sounded like you were really running around. “ She put her shirt on.

“Oh, yeah, I have those now,” I said as I walked in a little circle to demonstrate the noise coming from my hooves. She squealed and came over to me. To my surprise she picked me up like a big dog.

I squeaked and she laughed at the noise I made. I laughed too. Without any apparent effort she carried me to the couch. She sat down with me still in her lap.

“So what have you been doing all day, my little pony? Watching ponies?” I looked away and nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, pretty much. Played with my wings. Ate some apples. Drank some water. Went to the bathroom. Masturbated. Pissed myself. Threw up,” I said without hiding anything. We both laughed.

She laughed harder, probably at my honesty. She began gently running her hand down my mane. It felt good. I smiled up at her and she aww’d which made me look away.

She turned the volume down on the TV a little and went back to petting me. This time she started gently rubbing the space between my ears. There was a surprisingly tender bundle of nerves there. I felt myself instantly loosen to her touch in relaxation. I felt delicate but safe.

I cooed at her wonderful touch and leaned into it. I felt my wings relax at my side. At that I untucked them and let them gently lay beside me.

“That feels really good,” I encouraged her. She started working it harder like a finger massage. She went nearly to my forehead and down towards my back of my neck. As she came back she dug into the grooves around my ears then came down to my jaw. She gently rubbed it but eventually came back to space just above my ears as that got the best response out of me.

“So,” she didn’t stop rubbing my head as she talked but did explore a little. “You’re a mare, right?”

When did I close my eyes? I opened them to look at her. Her hand gently slid down my neck and started petting the small between my wings. I didn’t even realize there was tension there but it was gone now. Wow, she was incredibly good at this.

“Yeah. I’m a mare,” I acknowledged with a nod.

“And you’re okay with that? Would you stay this way if you could?”

I gently chuckled a little and laid my head on her lap to both get “closer” to her and to look away.

“If I could? Yeah,” I said. There was a tinge of sorrow in my voice. This was the first time I heard my new voice being sad. I didn't like it.

“I could never accept that I was female. Even though my family and friends were willing to accept me, I couldn’t. “

A shiver ran down my spine and in reaction she pulled me in closer. She went back to massaging my head. This time she gently scratched with her nails. I liked that even better.

“I understand, B. Really. You explained it to me before: you’re all caught up in definitions and worried about being lumped with groups you don’t agree with. You fear people judging you without knowing you. “

She did understand. She listened to all those rants and excuses I gave before. Tears came to my eyes. I tucked my muzzle under my hoof in an effort to hide them from her.

“I just- I don’t want to cause any trouble. I can have everything I want without claiming to be female. I’m taking the hormones. I’ve kept my hair long since middle school despite teh teasing and lasered my beard away. I wear clothes and make-up outside that make me comfortable,” I tried to defend myself but I knew my logic was flawed. “I do still want to get surgery to look prettier. But I don’t want to upset anyone.“

She brushed my mane out of the way and started petting me down my back now. I could tell my wings were tensed up now. I think she could too. She sighed sympathetically. “But you’re not happy. Aren’t you upsetting yourself?”

She was right. I couldn’t hold back the tears. I didn’t want to hold back the tears anyway. I stood up and hugged her. I had the emotions buried deep and they hurt coming up. I held on tight and sobbed them out one gross, painful sob at a time. She hugged me tightly around my middle as they came.

“I’m s-s-sorry we d’n’t ta-alk about this before,” I croaked out during a lull. The sobs came back.

She just petted my mane and told me in a hushed tone that everything was going to be alright. I really wanted to believe her.

As the sobs grew more sporadic and the sniffs became more manageable I sat down in her lap facing her but still not looking at her. I could hear the opening theme song to My Little Pony playing behind me.

“B, since you’re sharing yourself can I share too?” she asked.

I looked up at her and nodded. I wiped my tears and pony snot away with the back of one leg and smiled at her attentively.

An idea came to me and I started to pet her shoulder and arm as best as I could with my clean fore leg. That got her to smile back.

“If you had trouble seeing yourself as a girl, when we dated, did you see me as a girl?” she asked in a way like she didn’t want to hear the answer.

I continued to ‘pet’ her even as she started rubbing the back of my head. She was patient for the answer to her question. It was clear there was no judgement here now; we were having a sincere moment of emotions and openness. We wanted to confront things that were troubling us. I looked at her.

“Yes and no. It’s messed up, but I kind of saw you as a ‘safe’ person to date. And In my mind you were whatever I accepted better at the time. I still have trouble with who I find attractive. And with you being trans, I figured I could use you to improve myself. We were great friends and I used you. I’m sorry, Tabs. “

She nodded and continued to pet me. “It’s alright. I always kind of expected it. “ She smiled. “We can still be great friends, you know.“

I smiled back up at her with the biggest ‘puppy dog eyes’ possible. “Can we be the cuddling type?”

“Of course we can!” She giggled and pulled me in against her chest. I wrapped my hooves around her and laid my head against her chest as she ran her hand down my back over and over until I felt like a loose mess.

We sat like that for a little while. My Little Pony was still playing behind me. I could tell it was the one where Fluttershy learns to overcome her self-consciousness and I started to slowly turn my head to peek back at it.

After a minute of me watching like that Tabetha wordlessly pulled me from her to adjust me. I gave her no resistance, trusting her gentleness. She lay me down on my back with my head in her lap so I could watch the television and also still turn to look at her.

“Silly pony,” she teased me as she started to rub a particular spot on my chest where my coat was a little thicker. I didn’t exactly do any flying today but my chest did still hurt a little from the crying so her rubbing was soothing. I found it interesting that instead of laying my front legs down flat it felt more comfortable to fold them to the side, like a dog. Being handled and laying like this made me feel a little like a dog too but I wasn’t complaining to the petting.

As we continued watching the ponies on screen I felt her hand began to explore further down. When she started rubbing my belly around where my ribs ended I reacted by squirming a little.

“Do you need to get up?” she asked as she stopped.

“No, it’s sensitive,” I smiled up at her bashfully then looked back toward the screen.

With hesitance she started gently rubbing the natural curve of my tummy, going slower this time. My whole tummy was quite ticklish but it didn’t make me want to laugh, just stretch and squirm from all the tingling sensations. It felt sensual, like the small of my back but dangerously close to my pony bits. I huffed out a contented sigh which came out more like a horse’s snort and she lightly chuckled at me. In response I rubbed the side of my head against her leg.

“You’re really enjoying yourself,” she teased me.

“I can tell you are too,” I looked up at her and smiled. It made sense, you got as much out of petting a dog as the dog got from the pets. “I’m glad we could talk about that stuff. I promise to be more open with you from now on. “

“I haven’t seen you this relaxed since we did molly together,” She informed me. “Me too though,” she moved her hand up to scritch the thicker patch of fur on my chest. “We really need to keep talking more often. We can cuddle like this too, you know. Even if you’re not a pony.”

The idea sounded fun, but I couldn’t see it being half as enjoyable being a human again.

Human again. This high was to end eventually. But I could get more some day. Maybe enough to overdose? How could I possibly live as a pony though?

I stared off into space trying to figure it out long enough that my petter finally took notice.

“You’re thinking. What’s on your mind, B? Do I still call you ‘B’?” Tabetha looked down at me and questioned.

“I haven’t picked a name yet,” I admitted to her for the second time in our relationship. I continued with what was on my mind. “I was just thinking, If I stayed this way how would I deal with money? I wouldn't be able to do my job anymore,” I voiced my concerns. “Not that I care about my job. But, it pays my bills.”

“You could stay with me and be my pet!” Tabetha said as she rubbed by tummy some more for emphasis, right at where my ribs stopped. The way she rubbed my fur caused my right hind leg to kick involuntarily. She kept doing it and I tried to fight it but I was too weakened in my relaxed state. My leg was kicking on its own and all I could think about how good it felt for those nerves to be firing on their own.

Finally she slowed it down and I could think straight again. My gears started to turn and I thought about what she just said.

“A pet? Like never pay any bills and eat half the food and just lounge around inside all day? Just stay with you forever and do that?” I asked for clarification.

“Well it sounds weird when you put it that way. I’d make you keep the place clean I guess. You could pay me in cuddles and smiles,” she offered. “I enjoy your company. I’d let you crash here as long as you want.”

“But what if I wanted to go do something or wanted to buy something? Or live somewhere else?” I protested.

“I guess if you want to ever stop and go somewhere else I wouldn’t stop you. If you want to go do something you should do it,” she told me. “You could find a way to do whatever you want. I’m not going to stop you.”

“That doesn’t sound like a pet,” I pointed out to her.

“No, it sounds like a friend.”

Some time had passed in silence after that, save for Canterlot Wedding playing out on the TV. We had both seen the episode countless times but it was one of our favorites so we were enraptured by it regardless.

At some point I had fallen asleep and woke up to Twilight singing the pop song at the end. I missed the big fight and Equestria being saved with the power of true love. I watch the carriage get pulled away and it end happily ever after with a big rainboom.

“Hey sleepy head, you hungry?” Tabetha said when she saw I was awake now. Without lifting my head up I nodded.

“Great, uh. Can you get up? I have to pee,” she smiled awkwardly down at me. She seemed grateful I was awake.

We regrouped in the kitchen and she preheated the oven while I was eating a carrot. While waiting for the oven to get done she was watching me eat with an unusual amount of amusement even for me being a cartoon pony. Finally she made known what was so funny.

“You want me to wash that? Or get you a plate?” She said as she pointed to the half-eaten carrot on the floor in front of me.

“It’s fine,” I reassured her. It was awkward to hold it while I ate so I was just picking it up in my mouth when I wanted another bite. She got me a plate anyway and put the carrot on it. Afterwards she gave me a quick head scratch.

“While I remember, let get a picture of you,” she took her phone out. The smile for it came easily but I also deliberately puffed my chest out a bit and opened my wings for display. She took one more of me from the side for good measure.

“Such a cutie,” she praised me. “I’m going to help find you a pony name.” She started tapping something into her phone. “How about like the name of a flower? You’re blue with yellow eyes. Maybe there’s a flower like that?”

I frowned up at her in a slight protest. “But I’m a pegasus. It should be sky or weather related not a flower. That’s more like for an earth pony.”

Her eyes hadn’t left her screen as I voiced my concerns. I wasn’t even sure she heard me. A small smile formed on her face and she looked down at me again before pressing something.

“Well then what about ‘Morning Glory’?” she said as she turned her phone to show me a picture of a flower with blue petals and a yellow center.

I felt a flutter of joy inside of me. I repeated ‘Morning Glory’ to myself and felt the same joy turn into a rush. ‘Morning Glory’. The ‘glory’ part made it almost sound prideful but it was the name of a flower that was my colors and it sounded sky-related. It worked.

“You like it,” Tabetha’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts. She was smiling down at me knowingly. My wings had raised up all on their own. My heart was still racing at the thought of my new name. I did like it. It was beautiful. It was almost too beautiful for me but I wanted it.

“I like it,” I admitted with a beaming smile. I felt so light on my hooves I thought I was going to float up off the ground without even using my wings.

“Morning Glory it is then,” she smiled down at me and snapped another picture with her phone. I wasn’t prepared. “The look on your face is too precious.”

I sat there on the floor feeling good inside while Tabetha put a frozen pizza into the oven. She sat a timer on her phone (seeing as how the oven timer never worked) then came to stand over me.

Without asking me she picked me up and carried me back over to the couch. She plopped down still holding me. I made no protests as she started to run her fingers through my mane and occasionally through my tail. My muscles holding my eyelids up felt heavy. All my muscles felt heavy. The way each strand of hair tickled my head as it was brushed made me forget where I was and what was going on. Everything but my name fell away into a fog.

Morning Glory.

The Low

Work the conversation to falling asleep

Work the conversation to food

Need to undo the transformation; a focus on being freezing and being cold, a very endothermic experience, Tabetha throwing Pony into the shower

3. Escapism

The post high of taking Pon-E wears off, his father is going through complications from open heart surgery, needs money for everything, we skim over this and talk about him talking about Pon-E with a support group so we can reintroduce this place later.

3. Robbery

Gets in contact via Rat with some people going to do a robbery disguised as ponies. Rat is unsure if Pony is interested, Pony agrees because it means money as well as another chance to be a pony. Anonymously all show up after taking pon-e given prior. Their particular pon-e makes them all red and black ponies, Pony gets absolutely shat on for being a pegasus mare, they need strong ponies. Post clusterfuck of a successful robbery, there’s a pony orgy in a pile of money.

Pony actually hits it off with someone after the drugs wear off in the morning. They get coffee. Some very alternative chick.

4. Murder

Wouldn’t you like to know.

5. Pony Trafficking

Yeah, I was really going to go that route, but not quite as straight-forward as you’d imagine.