King and I - 1


                                            Another boring Friday night, you think to yourself.


                                            The occasional chat request appears, you make small talk with all your e-pals; it’s a sour replacement for real interaction, not that you’re any good at it.


                                            You sigh to yourself, more excuses. It’s not like you have any social anxieties, you’re just lazy, really lazy. The most basic of tasks take a backseat beneath waves of my little pony fan fiction and artwork. You are the very definition of a procrastinator; a life without worries is the thing for you.


                                            If only, you have gross things like bills and responsibilities, burdening you with work and interaction with over living beings.

                                            You may be exaggerating a little.


                                            Whatever the case, you have little to do for the weekend. While others will be out living it up or making friends, you’re perfectly content to whittle away the hours with tales of wonder, magic and adventure. The irony of shunning friendship while watching my little pony is not lost on you, yet these are cartoon characters. It’s not like they’re real. No work tomorrow.


                                            It means another late night for you! You grin as you navigate towards your favorites menu and notice your favorite story was just updated.


                                            “THE KING AND I” it reads, with an imposing cover image of Sombra standing victoriously over a defeated army, their twisted bodies lying battered and bloodied under his large hooves.


                                            At first, you didn’t really like Sombra. He was a bit villain for a pair of episodes, just like all the others. However after reading this story he quickly became your favorite, even if the story took some liberties with the canon to do so. In fact, this is only one of many Sombra-centric stories you’ve found yourself enraptured with.


                                            The story had nearly reaches its conclusion. It was well written and contained a very convincing romance between Sombra and an OC. As far as OC’s go, Blood Rose (as she was named) was a great character. It portrayed Sombra as less of a mindless beast and more of a ruthless dictator, who would do anything to get what he wants.


                                            You swivel from left to right on your chair for a few moments, debating whether to go grab a late night snack or not. Your mind visualizes the left over BBQ chicken wings from yesterday, before you leap from your chair and jog towards your small fridge.

                                            You push past the layers of leftovers and junk food to find the tinfoil wrapped plate, smiling like a serial killer as you pull them from the cold prison.


                                            As you remove the foil and slap them into the microwave, you notice a strange pattern flowing across the computer monitor. The paragraphs from before have been replaced with an eye straining combination of black and white, the perpetually moving waves seemingly changing perspective many times over a few seconds.


                                            The room dims around you as your eyes become hazy and unfocused, the only thing left visible are the oscillations being displayed from the other end of your small apartment.  You stagger towards it, your legs being beset by intense pins and needles. Your tongue turns to lead in your mouth, rendering you in-capable of any coherent sound.


                                            Your legs become increasing unstable; making the few short strides required a challenge in co-ordination. Despite your best attempts you can’t draw your eyes away from the screen; a sheet of pain hammers your teary eyes.


                                            You slam both hands on the desk. Unfortunately, the close proximity to the screen gives you a full blast of the trippy pattern. A dull whine begins to build in your ears, rumbling your eardrums. The whine becomes progressively louder as more and more colours begin to be added to the swirling maelstrom engulfing your mind. The whining has increased in pitch, causing you to let out a silent scream. Then it stops.


                                            You black out.


                                            You groan as you slowly return to consciousness to find yourself sprawled on the floor. The beeping of the microwave breaks the eerie silence and alerting you to the status of the precious BBQ wings.


                                            You feel like a drunkard as you hoist yourself up. Through blurry vision you notice that the monitor has thankfully returned to normal.

                                            Man, that must have been some kind of freaky computer virus. You grimace as you hobble back to the microwave and pull out the now cold chicken wings, you must have been out for a while! You re-heat them again, ignoring the potential risk of food poisoning.


                                            You rub your messy hair and practically collapse back into your office chair. You glance cautiously back at the screen to discover it has been returned to the web session you had open. Quickly scrolling over to the tray, you begin an anti-virus scan of your computer; wouldn’t want to get your head cracked open with something like that.


                                            You decide to get back on task and read the new chapter, you glutton yourself with the chicken wings and set in for a long night.


                                            You grip the edge of your seat as Sombra faced by the pretender in front of his black throne. Thousands of words of build-up have delivered you to this point, the tense confrontation with the antagonist, the heroic knight Silver Shield.


                                            They glare at each other defiantly, muscles tensing; neither displaying any regrets or fears in front of their rival. The green smoke billowing from Sombra’s eyes only intensified, as his dark magic pooled up deep inside him, like a cannon ready to go off at any second.

                                            Suddenly, the rumbling of the battle outside ceased; the two warriors beginning a savage charge towards the other, Shield deftly dodging the dark bolts of magic thrown his way by the dark king.


                                            You groan as you read the final line, just as it was getting good! Sombra was about to stomp that prick into the ground! You feel compelled to write a comment, this was an awesome chapter.


                                            "Great job man! I can’t wait for the next chapter. This is one of my favorite stories. You did an awesome job with Sombra, he’s my favorite pony now :P"


                                            You submit your praise and sit back for a moment, raising an eyebrow as you receive a reply almost instantly.


                                            "I’m very glad you like it. I’ve had a blast writing it, the final chapter shall come soon."


                                            In a sense, the response seemed ominous. The feeling being somewhat diluted by it being a random fellow pony fan. However as you think back to the strange occurrence from earlier, a cold chill rockets down your spine.


                                            You shut down the computer and collapse into bed.


                                            Dark shapes swirl around you, caressing you; a girly moan escapes from your muzzle. Foreboding red eyes, stare down at you like a predator, you’re nothing more than a piece of meat, something to be used to satisfy your master. The lavish room that you find yourself in fails to draw your attention away from the large black stallion approaching the bed.


                                            He grins, showing his sharp teeth. He climbs onto the bed, his weight causing it to bend inwards. Heavy hoof falls against the soft blanket herald his arrival. He leans against your sensitive ears, before speaking in a deep and rumbling voice.


                                            “I’m enjoying your progress, Rose.”


                                            There is nothing.


                                            The sunlight beaming through your cheap, shitty blinds awakes you. You groan and rub your strained eyes, that weird virus had a pretty strong after-effect, the late night you spent in front of a glowing screen didn’t help.


                                            You shiver as your half nude body meets the cold air of your uninsulated apartment. You grope your way to the jogging shorts at the foot of the bed (not that you actually do any jogging) and wrestle them onto your numb legs.


                                            The harsh glare of the shitty bathroom light only furthers the now dull ache sourced from somewhere behind your eyes. You quickly splash your face with some frigid water, wiping yourself of on a frayed towel.


                                            You stare into the mirror for several seconds, a sudden feeling of wrongness welling inside your stomach.  At first you don’t notice anything different; you roll your eyes up and down, searching for something wrong.


                                            You almost scream when your eyes meet themselves. You harshly grip your tongue between your teeth; face paling at your new eye colour.

                                            A new crimson gaze stares back, bright red eyes that belong to a demon. They look terrifying! Your pale skin draws a massive contrast, and more importantly attention to them.


                                            The virus must have done this! Some kind of prank to fuck up your eyes. That must be it! You growl and turn the tap on again, splashing it in your eyes in an attempt to remove the tint.


                                            It doesn’t work. Meaning it must be an internal problem. You debate going to the doctor, only to remember that you’re broke. You can’t afford it! You comfort yourself by rationalizing that it can’t be anything too serious, it was only an optical illusion.

                                            Which caused you to black out, and turned you into a demon.


                                            You ignore the rational part of your mind, content to continue lazing about for the rest of the morning. You boot up the computer and head over to the small kitchen unit, several dirty dishes still lay haphazardly over the counter, but you don’t care. You open the fridge and begin to search for a good breakfast.


                                            You pull out a plate of turkey from the sandwich you had yesterday. You tentatively sniff it to make sure it’s still okay, but nearly gag as a foul odour invades your poor nose. It smells like a dead racoon that had been left out in the sun for too long.

                                            Definitely out of date, you muse, scraping it off the plate into a small bin.  You try again, grabbing some bacon, but once again it reeks, you groan and throw it in with the turkey. You repeat this process several more times, leaving you to wonder if your fridge had broken overnight.


                                            Luckily, you still have some non-leftover food. You grab a packaged chicken salad, peeling off the transparent plastic. You grab a fork and sit down on your worn sofa, eagerly throwing a piece of cold chicken into your mouth.


                                            It tastes like a skunk just squirted into your mouth, you spit it back out onto the plate along with a healthy serving of saliva, coughing and gagging. You exclaim disgust in a less than graceful manner.


                                            “That was fucking awful!” You cough out.


                                            You rush back to the kitchen and rinse off your tongue in the sink. Sighing in relief as the taste is wiped from your poor buds. You grasp the packaging and search feverishly for the sell by date, raising an eyebrow as you notice that it’s a few years away yet.

                                            You shake your head at the wasted food, putting it into the nearly full bin. You shuffle back to the computer as your stomach growls un-happily. You open up your previous session, navigating to your favourite websites.


                                            You head over to the favourites list, to see that “The King and I” has been updated again with the finale! Despite your bad morning you can’t help but break out into a smile at the sight of it. It’s a fairly hefty chapter too, clocking in at fifteen thousand words.

                                            You eagerly load up the chapter, excited for the explosive conclusion. As the page loads however, you notice the text is highly distorted, like somebody ran it through a zalgo generator.  You squint as you struggle to make out the words, however the more you stare the more distorted they become.


                                            You can’t help but scan the distorted paragraphs, mumbling the words to yourself. Despite this you fail to comprehend exactly what you’re reading. The entire process is lost on you, the words string out into long, made up sentences in an incoherent language.

                                            It begins to seemingly melt from the page, sliding down it like ooze. An intense headache, not unlike the one from yesterday assaults your cranium. You wince and massage your temples, still wearily looking at the screen, fully expecting another virus to infect the monitor and eye rape you.


                                            Yet it doesn’t come.


                                            Just as quickly as the strange occurrence started, it ended. Rather abruptly as the story simply returned to its proper form. You lean back into your chair and moan as the headache intensifies.


                                            You quickly stride over to the bathroom, fumbling in the cabinet for some Ibuprofen. You shakily grasp the box, nearly dropping them to the floor and wrench two of them into your mouth. Despite your bodies’ unwillingness, you manage to swallow them down before quenching your thirst from the tap.


                                            A layer of sweat has built up on your body, making you feel dirty and pathetic. The medicine helps a little, but you can tell it won’t be that easy to get rid of. You squeeze your soaked shirt and short sweaty hair. Feeling repulsed that you managed to eject that much moisture from your body.


                                            You decide now is a good time to shower. You peel the sweaty clothes from your body and throw them into a heap in the corner. Switching it on, you check the temperature before stepping inside. Your tense muscles relax, if only slightly, underneath the hot water.


                                            You carefully scrub your now sore body, taking extra care with your hair. As the shower goes on you become slightly more confident and hurry up, failing to notice your latest change.


                                            Only when you rinse your hair do you notice a crimson strand fall into the top of your sight. You stare for a second, before carefully tugging at it. You quickly deduce that the hair belongs to you, and you promptly freak out.


                                            You leap out of the shower and dry yourself, the previous aches forgotten in the wake of panic. You stumble, naked as the day you were born into the bedroom where the full body mirror is.


                                            You seethe through your teeth as you discover that you now have a red head of hair to match your eyes, the hair on your chest and legs having turned a bright white. Your body has turned leaner, with your wide shoulders now considerably slimmer, you seem to have lost a few inches in height, and your formerly gaunt face is more rounded and fat.


                                            You clutch your new face, poking and prodding the new fatty sections; you almost look like a girl, if it weren’t for your chest and…

                                            much smaller penis.


                                            You were a fairly modest person, with a fairly average penis; but you can’t help but notice the sudden decrease in size. Where before it hung between your balls, now it is perches above them like a cocktail sausage. It’s like you’ve gone through reverse puberty!

                                            You lightly touch it, almost as if it were to fall off with too much force. No matter how much you fondle it, you can’t seem to achieve an erection.


                                            Red eyes, red hair AND erectile dysfunction? Today is going swell!


                                            Your penile exploration is interrupted by a knock on the door; you snap out of your shame and grab a new set of clothes. You nearly answer the door before you remember your eyes! Shit! You frantically search around the room, grabbing a pair of mucky sun-glasses from one of the drawers.


                                            Not exactly a convincing disguise, but it’ll do for now. You stick down your hair and open the door to see a bewildered delivery man.


                                            “Hello.” You say, in a strangely high pitched tone.


                                            “Uh, yes hello. I have a package here for the home owner.”


                                            “That’d be me.” He hands you the package and clipboard, you sign your name and place the box onto the door side ledge. He stares at your vibrant crimson hair for a few seconds and you worry that he might call you out.


                                            “Thanks.” You say.


                                            “No problem, Miss.” He says before hurrying off to presumably complete more deliveries. You however, stand there in shock at his last comment.


                                            “M-miss?” You squeak, slowly shutting the door with a click. A swelling sensation begins to build up in your chest, which you ignore. Right now you have a box to open.


                                            It may be a bad idea to ignore such rapid body changes, but the denial screeching through your mind blocked off all the panic you felt before.


                                            This couldn’t possibly be happening.


                                            Even so, you knew deep down that it was. You were turning into a strange, red haired girl. There probably wasn’t anything you could do about it. Instead of crying however, you simply occupy your mind with something else.


                                            Like this mystery box!


                                            You have no idea of what it could be, you didn’t order anything. Knowing your luck it would probably belong to somebody else who lived on your floor. There are no markings or papers included, not even a return address.


                                            You peel the masking tape from the top, partly excited for what could be inside, but fairly afraid for the same reason.

                                            You look inside, to see a single thorned rose and a small piece of paper. You avoid touching the rose for now and unfold the paper.


                                            Out of the corner of your eye you notice your new breasts, but you can’t bring yourself to panic or scream.


                                            “To my biggest fan. See you soon. Xx”


                                            Well… that was ominous.


                                            You discard the creepy letter, and carefully hold the rose in the palm of your hands. The rose looks freshly picked, still sporting the thorns found in the wild. It’s probably the most vibrant rose you’ve seen, with deep red petals that almost matched your new hair.

                                            As you look again however, you begin to notice something strange. Seemingly etched into the petals are tiny words, only a slight touch lighter than the red around them. You swear you’ve seen them somewhere before.


                                            That’s when they begin to move.


                                            You suck in a deep breath as everything falls out of focus. Just like before you begin to read the near invisible language from the surface of the petals. The room around fragments and shatters like a broken mirror.


                                            Your shitty apartment falls away from your feet, an inky blackness replacing what was there before. You stand on a solitary square of floor, seemingly ripped from the ground and now floating in an endless space.


                                            A deep baritone voice joints your chanting, it jabs the fringe of your memory and vaguely reminds you of a forgotten dream. The chanting continues to increase in volume, reaching a booming climax, the overpowering sound of the voice dwarfing your own.

                                            It stops.


                                            A slow ember floats from above, landing on you. It smoulders, and then begins to burn rapidly. The clothes on your body simply disintegrate away from you, floating, still burning, into the blackness. Initially you panic, checking your body for injury. However it doesn’t seem to have burned you.


                                            Suddenly, a crippling pain bursts down your spine. You release a horrendous scream into the void, which echoes through the empty plain. You drop to your knees as an intense burning sensation spreads from the same point on your back, followed by the feeling of thousands of needles stabbing the affected area.


                                            The rose you still clutch in your hand shines brightly, before melting into the surface of your skin like a tattoo. The strange language from before spreads across your body like a rash, stretching across your entire body as new sentences are written by the dark magic.


                                            Your hands grow numb, weighed down with cement. The fingers lose their dexterity, merging together to form a hard nail. A hoof, you mind complacently responds. You clop them together and marvel at the new sensation of the sensitive frog embedded in the base.

                                            Fur begins to crawl up your arms, yet it does little to distract you from the pain of your rapidly snapping spine, you’ve long since lost your ability to scream; your strangled cries receiving no mercy from the forces at work.


                                            Unbeknownst to you, your spine rearranges itself to better fit your new form. Permanently removing your ability to walk upright, it also extends slightly using mass from your rapidly shortening legs.


                                            Your toes are absorbed into your new back hooves, which are flailing against the ground as the nerves inside them are re-wired to control the new muscles.

                                            Your red eyes grow larger along with your skull, your human lips being pushed out into a horrific looking muzzle. A sharp pain hits your forehead as a white bone bursts from your forehead, your new horn.


                                            The fur has covered most of your midsection and your new limbs; it eagerly ate up the few patches of visible skin you had, beginning its work on your torso and neck. Your red hair grows longer every second, nearly touching the ground.


                                            Coinciding with the hair growth, a new bony protrusion at the base of your spine begins to sprout the same shade of red hair almost like a party popper. It tickles the fur of your back legs, and covers your most private area.


                                            Your formerly tiny penis and balls are quickly absorbed into your body as the fur overtakes it, a new pair of tight black pussy lips taking their place.

                                            Tears roll down from your now much too large eyes, the fur has reaches your neck and is growing rapidly up to your ears. Soon they are taken too, causing them to melt into your head under the fur much like your penis.


                                            Your head hammers in agony as internal rearrangement of the ears and nose take place, connecting them to your new pony ears and muzzle. You desperately paw at the ground, unable to move, you twitch in agony as new sensations begin to overload your weak mind.

                                            The breasts you grew quickly slide down your furry torso, just above the new mare pussy. Light pink nipples emerge from the new small hairless area.


                                            The glowing red words that littered your body begin to phase out, floating away into the darkness. However the rose emerges on your new, large flanks. It feels like you are being burned with a brand, and you don’t notice the new thorned rose appearing on both of your sides.


                                            “Hello, my little rose.”


                                            There is nothing.


                                            You awake with a gasp, sweat pouring down your body and matting down your new white fur. Of course, you scream; in a new, much more feminine voice. This is turn causes you to scream further.


                                            You vocal chords soon run ragged and you find yourself unable to speak. The bed you find yourself in is much larger than your own, easily large enough to hold several people. Your new size makes it even bigger.


                                            It dominates the centre of the room, crimson sheets contrasting the dark, yet gleaming crystal walls. Several pieces of furniture cover the room, table and chairs, a dresser and drawers and even a large carpet that covered the lowest tier.


                                            You sweep your head frantically, your stomach disagreeing with the sudden motion combined with your new head. You look at your new body, before bursting into hysteric sobbing.


                                            You try hopelessly to stop the tears rolling down your muzzle, rubbing a fetlock against your eyes. You’re a pony, a female pony.

                                            With red hair, and beautiful white fur and sexy flanks…


                                            Woah! Where did that come from! Your sobs soon stop. You slowly poke and prod your new body. Several new sensations afflicting you, like the flicking of your new pony ears, the large and clumsy tongue, or the numbed, yet slightly ticklish, sensation of hoof on fur.

                                            You shake the cobwebs from your head and drag yourself to the edge of the bed, hopping down onto the hard floor with a loud clop. You have no problem standing, and as soon as you start walking you can tell that something is off.


                                            It’s oddly natural. Then again, why would they go to the effort of turning you into this without giving you the knowledge on how to walk? You trot to the door and peek outside, looking from left to right. However the only sight that greets you are long crystal hallways.


                                            You open the large door and trot down to the left, several other large doors passing you on the way. It splits off at the end, heading to a large lobby area and another large door, reinforced with heavy metal bars.


                                            The lobby is impressive, dark banners hang from the ceiling and crimson carpets line the paths. The stairs cascade and bend towards the bottom floor. You could go straight ahead, but the lobby looks like your best bet of meeting somebody.


                                            You scamper down the stairs, and into the centre of the room. There are no signs of life anywhere.


                                            “Hello Madame.” A dull voice says from behind you, causing you to let out a scratchy yell and you swing to face the new pony. She looks strange, with a dim coat and baggy eyes. She has a dark blue coat and white mane; she even has a little red bow tie.


                                            “H-hello.” You stammer in response. The mare smiles at you before trotting in a circle, inspecting you.


                                            “Wow! His majesty did a good job with you!”


                                            “His majesty?” You ask as she turns to face you.


                                            “The king silly! King Sombra!” She scolds with fake enthusiasm.


                                            No way, she has to be joking.  Her dull tone of voice made it hard to believe what she was saying; she was more robot than mare.

                                            “Where are we?”


                                            “The Crystal Empire of course! Don’t worry, I’m sure his majesty will answer all of your questions soon enough.” She turns on her hooves and heads down the corridor beneath the stairs, forcing you to stumble after her.


                                            “His majesty is going to be so pleased with your progress. All that magic and studying, but it worked!” She continue to rattle off as you travel down more identical corridors, before stopping in front of a pair of large, black doors that towered over the rest.


                                            “Go ahead, he’s waiting.”