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Apple Bloom was caught a bit off-guard when Venicio screamed something that sounded like: “FATO, FATO, PERCHE' MI PERSEGUITI? PERCHE' DEVI FARE LO STRONZO PROPRIO ORA?”

What does it mean? It seemed to be just plain gibberish, something totally alien, like language that the mute ponies used when they didn't use gestures to communicate.

She went near the colt before noticing the reason for the scream; a puddle of urine stood under his rear hooves. Now the phrase made a bit more sense, for it was a scream of rage for getting dirty, not an actual use of words.

After determining what caused Venicio’s rage, Apple Bloom turned to her older sister. “Never mind. We definitely need some diapers!”

After saying that, the colt huffed, and moved towards a nearby sorghum broom lying on the wall. He tried to grab it and clean up the puddle, but it was in vain. Venicio wasn't strong enough to move said broom, only managing to knock it to the floor.

Apple Bloom giggled at the funny scene of the little guest trying to use a broom to clean his own mess, and failing to do so. After all, Venicio seemed totally unaware that he lacked the strength to move it, and the height to manipulate the broom in a comfortable way.

After witnessing this little scene, Apple Bloom moved towards Venicio and took the broom from his little hooves effortlessly, saying to him, “Haha, ya crack me up, Venicio. Ah don't know what ya are trying to do, but you’re too small to use a broom!”

The colt made an annoyed face, and murmured something in his language. Apple Bloom wondered if he was just mute, and not still in the process of learning language. But Venicio seemed understand her, so it was good enough.

After taking the aforementioned sorghum broom, Apple Bloom placed it back where it was, went in the kitchen, opened a drawer full of rags, and took a faded gray one. She then headed back to where Venicio had his accident, and cleaned up the whole thing. While she did that, Venicio tried two or three times to “help”, but every time, Apple Bloom rejected his help, fearing what he could do with the wet rag.

After finishing cleaning up, Apple Bloom smiled at him, and told the colt to follow her upstairs.

The colt obeyed with a slightly annoyed sigh.

Alright, that was just plain idiotic on my part, since it was clear that as a 7-month old foal, I could not decently move a quite heavy broom.

But admit it, if your worst nightmare (namely to become a baby again) happened, and you were totally helpless, I'm certain that you would try to do some things to prove that this nightmare wasn't really happening, or at least comfort yourself in thinking that it was going better than you expected.

Did I have such a relief? Of course not.

And seeing that Apple Bloom didn't let me clean up my own damage with the gray rag caused some additional anger in me. I asked her in a low voice, in Italian, of course, “What's your problem ? What do you expect me to do if I used that rag, strangle you?”

Of course she didn't fear that. But maybe Apple Bloom feared that I was going to clean the urine on the floor, and then play with the wet rag, or just “play” with the urine. That would be a problem, but I doubt that any infant with two functioning brain cells would start to play with a rag wet with urine, so Apple Bloom's reaction was still strange to me.

Anyway, after this “accident”, Apple Bloom told me to follow her upstairs. I didn't know what for, but I guessed that it was to present me to the other members of the family. Standard issue I guess, only a lot more irritating than usual because of my age regression.

I followed her up the old, squeaking, dilapidated wooden stairs. When I arrived upstairs, I saw the yellow filly open a door labelled as “bathroom” with white paint... wasn't hard to tell what I was going to do.

I entered the room covered in light green tiles, and watched as Apple Bloom opened the valve for the hot water of the tub, took some soap and shampoo, and said to me, “Now, if ya don't mind, get in the water”.

I complied gladly, since I felt a strong impulse of having a bath and get cleaned.

After I entered in the water, I tried to grab a can of soap, but said can was took away from me from Apple Bloom, who did a negatory gesture with the left hoof, while still grabbing the can with the right one, and said, “The soap ain’t a toy; let me clean ya.” Snorting, I let her clean me, even if I did try again two more times.

After five minutes of fighting between me, who wanted to clean all alone, and Applebloom, who feared some weird games with the soaps, both the fighters were equally wet. Apple Bloom's red mane was straight and dripping like my brown mane and gray fur.

The yellow filly shook herself, placed me in a towel, and started to dry me by rubbing. I was so uncomfortable in that towel, and I actually tried to kick Apple Bloom in the face... not that I was going to hurt her much in such conditions, anyway.

Then, something worse actually happened. Applebloom, remembering my “accident” downstairs, decided to try and put a diaper on me. Naturally, I was ready to put up a fight for that.

I let her getting near, and while she did that, the filly said: “Now that yer nice and clean, Venicio, ya should wear a diaper. Ya don't want to get messy again, do ya?”.

Good point, AB.

Pity that I was used to using the W.C., and doing it all by myself. Thanks, I guess, for the “help”.

When she was unfolding it, I said “Cara signorina, vada a farsi una lunga apsseggiata in un letamaio” and ran away towards the sink, trying to go in circle around her.

Surprised by my sudden move, Applebloom at first stood immobile in the middle of the bathroom, staring at me... then she did a sprint and caught me.

You can guess what happens next, considered my unwillingness of getting a undergarment on my waist, and the determination of a 8-year old filly in placing  said undergarment.

After some time, when my right hoof landed outside the bathroom , I heard a croaking voice asking, “Who's there? What's going on?”

It didn't take long to me to recognize the voice as that of Granny Smith.

Apple Bloom answered, “Granny, it's me. And with me ah have a guest.”

I moved towards where the elder mare was, while Granny Smith responded. “And who is this 'guest'? Another one of yer friends?” She asked in an acidic tone, one that seemed standard issue for every lunatic elder.

“No, he’s a colt that Applejack found in the fields. She decided to keep him here until we find his parents.”

“And she thought to carry a stranger into mah house without asking me permission first? Does she have ANY idea about how the ‘hospitality’ here works?” Then the old mare started a long, pointless rant about the youth today and stuff like that.

Just like any insane elder.

I finally reached the room where the old mare was, and greeted her. “Ave, Ava Fabrus.”

The old lady made an utterly confused face, and asked what language I was using.

Apple Bloom answered, again, that it was a language that I made all alone, and that I could not speak properly. She was half right, since I wasn't babbling nonsensical syllables, but I was speaking Italian and Latin. However, both languages seemed non-existent in Equestria.

I wondered why I received the order to follow Apple Bloom upstairs, until I glanced to the right, and saw the table set up there. I felt like a bit of an idiot for not noticing it before.

Since it was quite clear that it was lunchtime, I moved towards one of the unmarked seats, sat down, and tried to intercept the flying words that passed among Apple Bloom, Applejack, and Granny Smith in the “calm” argument about my presence that occurred while Big Macintosh was en route to lunch.

After few minutes of waiting, Big Macintosh arrived in all his “splendor” of muscles. He entered in the room and saw me, then shrugged and murmured, “Whatever.”

Either he already knew of my presence in the house, or it was proof of his indifference to the world.

While the red stallion sat down, Applejack got up and went downstairs to get some food. It was time to see if I still had some degree of liberty and maturity....

After the work he did down in the fields, Big Macintosh was tired and hungry, and surely he wasn't in a mood to talk.

Not that Big Macintosh was talkative anyway.

When the red stallion arrived in the dining room, he wouldn't have even noticed the presence of a stranger in the room, if it weren't for a weird phrase that he heard: “Ave, Magna Machinae Stultum Facinus.”

Macintosh's mind didn't understand what was being said, and gave the order to look for the source, and so the stallion did. He rotated his head towards the source of the phrase.

The one that said the obscure series of “words” was a gray foal with a light brown mane, his left hoof waving at him in greeting. The red stallion was going to ask why an uninvited foal was sitting at the table in the dining room of his house, but he shrugged as if it were a normal thing to have lunch with a 7-month old foal who you don't know. The red stallion came up with another of his laconic responses, “Whatever.”

Then the red stallion sat down, and saw what was there to eat: daisies and melon, julienned apple with scrambled eggs, zucchini and peppers, and breaded quorum*... the classic menu for their Monday lunches.

Everypony took his share of the melon and daisies and started to eat, save for the guest. The colt carefully watched the others eating, then took the fork in one of his hooves and stuck it in a melon, along with two daisies. He refused Applejack's help with a little sign of dismissal, and the phrase “No grazie, so nutrirmi da solo.” He unsurely moved the fork towards his mouth, and then  triumphantly placed the fork in his mouth and chewed the soft daisies. He cut the melon in little blocks and then ate these blocks in one swift movement, repeating the process, each time faster, until he went on an eating spree. He started to shove everything edible in the range of ten meters into his mouth. Applejack and Granny Smith tried several times to stop him, but their efforts were in vain; the colt outmaneuvered them, or just took by force the dishes and trays full of food, eating them up. The colt even licked the dishes too!

By the end of the lunch, four portions had gone into the colt's stomach, an old mare was on the border of total insanity, a filly was laughing really hard and helping a strangely dutiful (for a 7-month old foal) colt in washing everything, and a young mare was wondering how to use the foal's strange behaviors for her purposes.

Yes! Yes! YES!

A sign that I wasn't totally reliant on others to do basic tasks! I could feed myself!

It might seem something of insignificance, but considering that I had so many abilities stripped by my transformation, everything that I could do was a great victory, and felt incredible.

In fact, I was so happy, that I forgot my manners and the need to eat slowly, and began to shove more and more food into my mouth, not caring about the taste of the dishes. I even licked the plates that held my food! As you can guess, Applejack and Granny Smith were not amused, while Apple Bloom was laughing hard.

To Applejack’s surprise, I spontaneously took my dishes and Apple Bloom's, and carried them downstairs. But I understood her surprise, since I had never seen a 7-month old baby get to his feet, take the dishes in an ordinary way, and carry said plates to the kitchen, all without anyone telling him to do so.

When I arrived in the kitchen, I placed the dishes temporarily on the floor. I then took a chair, pushed it towards the sink, and took the dishes, putting them on the kitchen counter near the sink.

After that, I grabbed a rag and filled the sink with water. I was planning on washing the dishes all by myself, but, for some reason, Apple Bloom offered her help in doing this task. I didn't reject it, but I wondered why she would do a chore that, in my personal knowledge, was considered boring and avoided like the plague by every kid.

Maybe Apple Bloom started to feel bad that her “little brother”, a 7-month old foal, was able to feed himself and was willing to wash the dishes. Or maybe she took pleasure in doing these things, I don’t know.

That would be hugely impressive, for a filly of her age.

Five minutes of washing and tidying up later, we were done, to the amazement of the older Apple family members.

When I finished all my “chores”, I stretched my hooves, and yawned. It was a lot work, but everything was done... and I had nothing to do. Literally.

Unfortunately, Applejack misunderstood my gesture, which I had meant to show satisfaction for finishing this tiring work, as a sign of sleepiness. She moved towards me and nuzzled my back.

I rotated my head, and she said, “Aww, are you sleepy ? Oh, yes, you are! Come on, let's go upstairs and take a nap.”

I nodded, following her upstairs into Apple Bloom's room. I waited, and saw Applejack return with a mattress and a pacifier.

She placed the mattress in a corner,  handed me the orange pacifier, and bid me good night. She then closed the windows and exited from the room.

Now I had a silly choice in front of me; use the pacifier, or not?

My mature side said that it wasn't something that a 16-year old would do, to sleep with a pacifier in his mouth.

My other side said that, after being regressed in so many ways that the only thing remaining of my past self was my personality, I was curious to understand WHY a device made of soft rubber could be so enjoyable for babies. Why did it help them relax, and would it still work, to some extent, on adults?

I let my mind fight for a bit, before electing a winner, the part of me favoring trying the pacifier. I took it in a hoof, looked at it by the limited light coming from the door, and put it in mouth. I started to suck on it, and finally, I found something really good to come out of this trip, something to counter the annoyance and difficulty in trying to get understood. The act of sucking the pacifier itself was relaxing, and soon I drifted to sleep, hoping to wake up as an older pony. It was a seemingly impossible thing, but since I arrived in a cartoon world by the means of a blue light in the middle of a pine grove, anything seemed possible.

I woke up with the rising sun in front of me, without feeling the thickness of the cloth diaper on my pelvis anymore, and without feeling the pacifier in my mouth... everything seemed returned to normality, and whatever I passed, was it all just a dream.. or not ?

I was woken up by the sound of hoof steps coming from somewhere outside the room. The door opened, and I saw in front me a smiling Apple Bloom carrying a bottle full of milk, while Applejack had a pack of diapers and what I assumed was baby powder on her back.

A bottle. A pack of diapers. Baby Powder. Oh God, no. Not again....

“Hi Venicio! Time for breakfast!”

Then I looked around me, worried. Soon I noticed the wooden bars around me, alternately colored in green and red; then I looked at myself, and saw that I was still in my pony form, wearing yellow pajamas with a pattern of red apples. Around my waist, there was a slightly larger protuberance, proof that I was still wearing an absorbent undergarment, this time a disposable diaper.

I imagined that somewhere in Hell, the short-tempered sportscaster Germano Mosconi asked the Devil to let him come back to Earth briefly, so that he could curse everything that is holy, and the Devil let him do so.

Now I was possessed by Mosconi, and I started to utter blasphemies without stopping, all while Applejack merrily got off my pajamas, checked if my diaper was full, and changed it.

Worst of all? When I went to sleep, it was 3:30 P.M., and now the sun was finishing its the zenith. It was impossible that I had slept for so many hours, and I remembered NOTHING about what happened in the meantime, nor what happened for sure yesterday. I lost my short-term memory too.

Tua maledicta, cunae! (Damn you childhood)