Biochaotic [Chapter 2]


                                            Biochaotic [Chapter 2]


                                            >Your heart is racing from the physical exertion of sprinting for such a long time, but you have no other choice.

                                            >You need to keep moving.

                                            >The more distance you put between you and them, the better.

                                            >Though, you know full well that you won’t be able to keep this up for much longer.

                                            >As opposed to before, you’re ACTUALLY running out of energy now.

                                            >You hurdle an upshooting root, landing and carrying flawlessly back into your sprint once more as you plow through a large, vibrant bush.

                                            >You use the linked energy of the grass to search for any distant holes in the connection.

                                            >Perhaps a town or city, or some other kind of refuge for you to hide in.

                                            >For as far as you can tell, it still only seems to be forest.

                                            >C’mon, this place can’t be all wilderness.

                                            >There has to be something!

                                            >You just barely manage to duck past some low hanging branches, stumbling over yourself as you do so.

                                            >Your senses and reflexes are clearly dampened.

                                            >You’re running out of steam.

                                            >Unfortunately for you, this forest seems to be endless.

                                            >Even on the farthest edges of your senses you don’t feel any signs of civilization.

                                            >You would hunker down here, but just sitting in the forest might get you killed.

                                            >Who knows what kind of creatures exist here…

                                            >Your thoughts lead your mind astray just long enough for you to clip the side of a passing tree, sending you tumbling violently into some azure flowers.

                                            >Some superficial contusions and minor abrasions, but nothing critical.

                                            >You take only a moment to reorient yourself before you pick yourself up and continue at your previous pace.

                                            >You’re being careless now.

                                            >You need to focus.

                                            >Carrying on for a short time, you move with few flaws, though you do suddenly feel strange.

                                            >You’re light headed.

                                            >No scratch that, you’re downright dizzy.

                                            >Your vision begins to spin.

                                            >You can’t be out of energy yet, you should have enough for at least a little while longer.

                                            >Luckily, you slow down before you’re tripped up by a small rock, throwing you, once again, to the ground.

                                            >Everything around you is going black.

                                            >You try to feel for any civilization one last time, and you do surprisingly detect a break in the forest way in the distance.

                                            >Unfortunately, you also feel something larger than you drawing closer by the second.

                                            >With all your might, you attempt to do anything, but it’s no use.

                                            >Your mind is dark…

                                            >There is nothing……

                                            >...

                                            >......

                                            >.........

                                            >There are voices in the distance…

                                            >Barely whispers on the infinite horizon of silence…

                                            >But with time, they draw nearer…

                                            >Voices with no faces…

                                            >Two of them…

                                            >Female…

                                            >They sound concerned…

                                            >Slowly, consciousness is returned to you…

                                            >What…

                                            >What happened?

                                            >You allow a minute for your brain to organize itself after whatever that was.

                                            >...

                                            >Wait…

                                            >Someone’s close by!

                                            >Your mind snaps back into full operating capacity, taking in as much information from your surroundings as physically possible.

                                            >You passed out in the middle of the forest, but you’re somewhere entirely different now.

                                            >It’s some sort of structure.

                                            >A hut, or house of some sort, if you have to take a guess.

                                            >The room you’re in is dimly lit and decorated with strange, otherworldly fascinations.

                                            >Large masks with primitive markings stare you down from their places on the walls, while a variety of bottles in all shapes, sizes, and colors swing gently from fixed hooks positioned anywhere on the ceiling.

                                            >Only a lonely candle on a far shelf illuminates the room just enough for you to see.

                                            >The walls seem to be made of some sort of wood, though the form of construction is unlike anything you’ve ever seen before.

                                            >Any rigid, angular structure that would otherwise dictate the layout of the room is replaced with a fluid, natural curvature, leaving no true boundary between any of the walls or the ceiling.

                                            >Some areas of the walls are even spotted with abrasive bark or fluffy patches of green moss.

                                            >It’s as if this was carved out of a whole tree…

                                            >Further observations are interrupted by voices from an adjacent room.

                                            >Just on the other side of the door, across from where you currently lay.

                                            >They’re getting closer.

                                            >You quickly identify a means of escape: a window sitting slightly ajar right next to the door.

                                            >You go to jump for it…

                                            >Though nothing happens…

                                            >It’s not even like you’re tied up and you can’t move, it’s that you’re trying to move, but lack the capability to do so.

                                            >You can’t feel your legs at all at the moment, or even move your head for that matter.

                                            >With absolutely no hints to go off of, you opt to run diagnostics.

                                            >The answer returned is…

                                            >Less than what you expected…

                                            >A…

                                            >A toaster?

                                            >What is that even supposed to fucking mean?!

                                            >You run diagnostics again just to be sure.

                                            >...

                                            >Well, there’s no mistaking it…

                                            >You’re a fucking toaster for some reason now.

                                            >You try to force your body to take on your previous form of a pony, but to no avail.

                                            >Toasters can’t morph into anything that’s not a toaster.

                                            >...

                                            >......

                                            >Y’know…

                                            >There is always that theoretical list of stuff that could happen to you in a day, and you have to say, “being turned into a fucking toaster with eyes and ears” was not previously on that list.

                                            >And frankly, you’re not sure what’s more concerning.

                                            >The fact that it’s on the list at all now, or the fact that it ranks pretty high compared to everything else that could’ve happened today.

                                            >...

                                            >Well…

                                            >Unless you can be poofed back into not being a toaster anymore, you suppose this is your life from now on…

                                            >...

                                            >......

                                            >You really hope these people about to come in through the door are wanting to make toast.

                                            >You’re eager to find out if you’re a good toaster that actually pops up the toast when it’s done, or the kind that just can’t be bothered with such an action, therefore burning the toast.

                                            >...

                                            >......

                                            >.........

                                            >Wow, waiting for someone to open a door can really feel like ages when you’ve got nothing better to do but wait…

                                            >...

                                            >If this world has magic, do they even need electri-

                                            >The door ahead creaks open, making way for two equine creatures to enter the room with you.

                                            >Though both are female, and could be classified as ponies in their own right, the differences in appearance between the two are vast.

                                            >One of them is a pony with wings, similar to you.

                                            >She has a pastel yellow coat with a long, flowing mane and tail, both a matching pastel pink color.

                                            >Her tail is so long, in fact, that it trails along the ground behind her.

                                            >Her eyes resemble the sky, shimmering with a bright blue hue that pierces the darkness of the room.

                                            >The other one appears to be a zebra, gold rings adorning her neck and front leg.

                                            >Either ear is decorated by a large gold earring to match the rest of her gaudy apparel.

                                            >Her eyes are a dark blue that looks more akin to an onyx black in the dim lighting of the room.

                                            >They both appear to be full grown if your estimates are correct.

                                            >The pony gasps before running up to you and patting your…

                                            >Head?

                                            >You don’t really have a head on account of being a toaster.

                                            >Technically you shouldn’t have a brain to even be able to think about these things either, but what the fuck do you know?

                                            >”What exactly happened?”

                                            >The pony’s voice is soft and soothing all the way through.

                                            >It’s a voice that could lull you to sleep on a tiresome night if you’re not careful.

                                            >”It’s a meddlesome name I hate to invoke, but I believe he came across Poison Joke.”

                                            >The zebra speaks strangely with an old african accent for some reason.

                                            >And what’s with the rhyming?

                                            >The pony looks at you with a reassuring smile and continues to pet your toaster-head.

                                            >”It’s okay, we’ll get you back to normal in no time.”

                                            >She turns back to the zebra.

                                            >”Do you have enough ingredients to make the remedy?”

                                            >The zebra nods and gestures to the room through the door.

                                            >”I couldn’t imagine it would be fun to be stuck like that for long, so I already made a batch, super duper extra strong.”

                                            >The pastel mare picks you up and hovers through the doorway, revealing to you a very similar room to the last.

                                            >The decorations and flow of the room remain mostly the same, but this one is illuminated much more adequately by a fire roaring underneath a cauldron in its center.

                                            >There’s some kind of soup or something steaming within its confines.

                                            >It certainly looks like some kind of broth.

                                            >You can see it pretty clearly with how close you are.

                                            >In fact, you’re a bit too close for comfort.

                                            >Wait, she’s hovering you over the fucking thing!

                                            >You don’t have a mouth, so you can’t even make a witty quip about needing to plug you in first, and that she also has to be in the water for it to work.

                                            >She holds you just above the surface of the murky liquid.

                                            >”Alright, this shouldn’t take very long. Just don’t forget to hold your breath, okay?”

                                            >She gently lowers you into the liquid, before letting go of you all together.

                                            >Frankly, with how much steam this stuff was giving off, you had expected it to be scalding hot, but it’s actually surprisingly comfortable.

                                            >You would prefer to stay above the water, though being made almost entirely of metal and having no appendages makes that rather difficult.

                                            >At least the bottom of this thing is similarly not as hot as you imagined.

                                            >...

                                            >......

                                            >Well, it’s been a while…

                                            >...

                                            >Assuming that they forgot about you already, you suppose that being something without lungs in this situation is a pretty fortunate outcome…

                                            >....

                                            >Though, forgotten or not, you do start to feel a change.

                                            >One that you can't quite explain until it has already finished its course.

                                            >To a vast majority of people, the most outstanding part of this transformation would be that you got your legs, body, and essential bits and pieces back, but to you, it's that YOU NEED TO FUCKING BREATHE AGAIN!!!

                                            >With your limbs back, you're able to burst up from the water by just standing up on your back legs, and slump over the side of the cauldron, gasping for air.

                                            >You would say you’re surprised that this mystery liquid actually turned you back to normal, but that bar has already been set pretty fucking high today.

                                            >You hear the yellow one speak from somewhere off to your side.

                                            >”My, that did work fast!”

                                            >She flutters up to your side, gasping audibly as she does so.

                                            >”Oh my goodness, are you okay? What happened to you?”

                                            >What an awful display of a lack of acting skills.

                                            >Being collected at one moment and then concerned in the next.

                                            >Such a pitiful display won’t fool you so easily.

                                            >You turn and glare directly into her eyes.

                                            “What does it look like? I was turned into a toaster and now I'm back to normal.”

                                            >You can’t be bothered to reward her attempt with anything more than a bored mutterance.

                                            >She doesn’t seem dissuaded from following her little act, however.

                                            >”No, I mean how did you get all of those scrapes and bruises all over you?”

                                            >Hm.

                                            >A good cover-up job by her, that’s all it is.

                                            >The mare gently touches your shoulder, but you naturally recoil from the contact.

                                            >She quickly retracts her hoof from you in response.

                                            >”Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you?”

                                            >Her sorrowful, caring charade leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, though you manage to curb your words better than you’re often able.

                                            >That doesn’t mean you’ll put any more effort into your words than a bland tone of speech.

                                            “No. I just don’t like being touched.”

                                            >You pull yourself out over the edge of the cauldron, practically raining the discolored liquid beneath you as you meet the floor.

                                            >It’s rather difficult for you to stand at this point.

                                            >Your energy reserves are nearly exhausted, and your body’s natural desire to heal your injuries isn’t helping with your conservation efforts.

                                            >Luckily, you see a door that can only lead outside from where you are, given the window in it.

                                            “I’ll be on my way. Thanks for the help.”

                                            >Meandering towards the exit, you are promptly blocked by a wall of yellow fluff.

                                            >”Wait. You should let Zecora look at your wounds first. Just to make sure there’s nothing too severe.”

                                            >You already know what's wrong with you.

                                            >No need for second opinions.

                                            >You swerve around her and continue along your path without batting an eye.

                                            “It’s just some scrapes and bruises. I'll be fine."

                                            >A yellow leg quickly bars you off from your path.

                                            >"Still, you can never be too safe when it comes to injuries."

                                            >She's technically correct about that, but you'll take your chances.

                                            >You deftly duck under her leg and press on.

                                            "I said I'm fine. I don't need anything."

                                            >She sure is persistent, you’ll give her that.

                                            >Just as you're about to reach the door, to get away from whoever these ponies are and whatever they undoubtedly want from you, your stomach betrays you.

                                            >It resounds through the cluttered interior of the hut, a pitiful grumbling so destitute that it would make even the most pompous of snobs feel a tinge of sympathy for the poor rat without a crumb to gnaw at.

                                            >You can practically hear the two mares look towards each other behind you as you stand frozen before the door.

                                            >”How about something to eat?”

                                            >...

                                            >You were afraid she would ask that.

                                            >You try your hardest to convince yourself that you’re fine, though the pangs of hunger now eating away at you have something different to say.

                                            >Immobilized and silenced by internal conflict, the yellow one flies up to your side to talk.

                                            >”Tell you what. If you let Zecora look at your wounds, I’ll make you a whole bunch of food!”

                                            >...

                                            >You’re no fool.

                                            >But you are fucking hungry.

                                            >And provided that there is even the slightest chance that she will give you food -- which it’s not out of the realm of minor possibilities that she could -- then you can reason that it might just be worth the risk…

                                            >This is all just a roundabout way of saying that you’re starving and that the answer is inevitable.

                                            >You can only sigh before speaking begrudgingly.

                                            “Fine.”

                                            >It’s not like you would realistically have the energy to go much further on your own anyways…

                                            >The mare seems to perk up happily as you turn back to the zebra, whom you can only assume is Zecora, and resentfully trudge your way toward her.

                                            >She gives a reassuring smile as you approach, as if to ease you.

                                            >Not that it does anything of the sort for you, of course.

                                            >Regardless of their intentions, you just want to get whatever these two want out of the way so you can get some food.

                                            >As you sit before her, Zecora begins looking over you, head to tail.

                                            >While her examination is somewhat extensive, it only takes a few minutes or so before she backs away and nods to herself, turning to the pony as she does so.

                                            >”There’s no need, Fluttershy, to worry so dearly, for the only wounds here are the ones seen clearly.”

                                            >Fluttershy?

                                            >Were you not so goddamn hungry you might actually laugh at how apt that name is to her voice and her appearance.

                                            >The fittingly-named mare seems to relax slightly upon hearing Zecora’s words.

                                            >”That’s a relief. I’ve seen some animals come out of the Everfree in much worse conditions.”

                                            >She then turns to you.

                                            >”See, was that so bad?”

                                            >You refrain from any foul thoughts you might have, and instead grumble a bit under your breath to compensate.

                                            >She walks up to the door and pushes it open, gesturing through it, towards the wild forest beyond.

                                            >”Now let’s go get some food in your belly. I should also have some bandages at my cottage, so we can get you all patched up while we’re there.”

                                            >You stand up to walk, though you find yourself struggling just to even hold your weight up at this point.

                                            >You manage to at least make it to the door.

                                            >That is, until you stumble over yourself and fall back on your stomach, causing Fluttershy to gasp once more.

                                            >”Are you okay?”

                                            >You almost growl your reply out to her.

                                            “I said I’m fine. I’m just tired is all.”

                                            >It's not so much the fact that she keeps bothering you about your health that annoys you as it is that she insists on keeping up that bullshit goody-two-shoes act of hers.

                                            >She seems slightly taken aback by your tone of voice, though clearly not enough to dissuade her from questioning you further.

                                            >”Are you able to stand at least?”

                                            >That…

                                            >That’s actually a decent question at this point.

                                            >And the answer comes to you rather quickly.

                                            >Try as hard as you might, there is no power in this universe that could get you to stand at this point, food or otherwise.

                                            >And you can completely forget about any distance of walk even more so.

                                            “No. I can barely move my legs.”

                                            >”Oh dear, that’s not good!”

                                            >She quickly looks at the zebra behind you.

                                            >”Zecora, do you happen to have any food here at the moment? We just need enough to help him get back on his hooves for now.”

                                            >”I’m afraid there’s no food to be found. The only things I have here are herbs and spices, finely ground. I was deep in the forest to find fruit to collect, but it was at that moment that our paths decided to intersect.”

                                            >Figures…

                                            “I guess that means I’m out of luck for food, huh?”

                                            >There was always a chance of the promise of food ‘somehow’ eluding you.

                                            >You’ve fallen for almost the exact same thing before.

                                            >A situation where you’re promised something and the fates just so happen to align so that they never have to deliver a thi-

                                            >”Well, um, not exactly…”

                                            >Fluttershy is bent over next to you, so that her head is on the same level as yours.

                                            >”I could carry you back, but I didn’t think you would want that since you said you don’t like being touched.”

                                            >...

                                            >You’re almost certain that your face is currently matching your brain’s levels of skepticism at the moment.

                                            "I… If it's for food… I guess it would be okay…"

                                            >She quickly sits back on her rump and lets out a small breath, smiling slightly all the while.

                                            >”Oh good. Otherwise I would have to fly all the way there and back with a whole bunch of food, and I’m not exactly the strongest or fastest flier.”

                                            >You…

                                            >What?

                                            >The mare stands and moves to your side.

                                            >”In that case, we should get going. I’d hate for you to go hungry for much longer.”

                                            >You can’t help but speak with the utmost hesitation.

                                            “Okay… But how am I gonna get on your back if I can’t move?”

                                            >She looks down at you, a little confused, though nowhere near as much as you do.

                                            >”My back? Oh! No, that’s not quite what I meant. Here, this will be much easier.”

                                            >She does a sort of small, fluttering hop over you, positioning herself almost directly above where you lie.

                                            >With little effort, she essentially scoops you off of the floor, positioning her front legs under yours and wrapping them around your torso.

                                            >Your back is now firmly pinned against her fluffy chest, your hind legs just barely dangling above the wooden floor.

                                            >Being so directly in contact allows you a clear sense of her energy.

                                            >It's very still…

                                            >Not stagnant, but free of disorder…

                                            >It gives off the sound of a gentle breeze; the smell of a verdant garden; a taste of petrichor…

                                            >It’s a very different kind of energy from what you’re used to…

                                            >She turns back to Zecora for only a moment.

                                            >”Thank you for your help Zecora, who knows what might have happened if you weren’t there.”

                                            >The linguistically cunning zebra waves the gratitude off.

                                            >”Please, it was no problem at all.”

                                            >She looks at you directly this time.

                                            >”Just be careful next time that you don’t trip and fall.”

                                            >With that and a small wave between the two mares, Fluttershy turns, hovering through the doorway and onto a winding path that cuts right through the dense vegetation of the forest.

                                            >As you’re locked firmly within her grasp, you only have the ability to look at the surrounding flora, and perhaps try to rationalize this whole situation.

                                            >What could it be that this mare wants from you exactly?

                                            >What could possibly be the purpose of keeping up this act?

                                            >...

                                            >The sun flashes through the shifting deciduous canopy above as you are slowly carried to wherever this mare has in mind.

                                            >Though it’s hard to say that she might have anything on her mind at the moment, given that she seems to have taken to carelessly humming as she weaves the both of you along the curves of the trail.

                                            >In fact…

                                            >A mostly-silent yawn lazily escapes your lungs.

                                            >Her humming is rather soothing…

                                            >And you’re rather tired from today…

                                            >Listlessly, your eyelids are becoming heavier and heavier by the second.

                                            >Perhaps… a little rest would do you some good…

                                            >With your mind worn down from the events of today, your eyes eventually give in to the cumbersome weight of exhaustion.

                                            >You let your head rest back into the warm, plush fur behind you, embracing the energy exuding from the mare.

                                            >The feeling paints pleasant pictures in your mind.

                                            >Your last thought, before drifting off entirely, is of how long it’s been since you last laid your head on something so comfortable…