Return to fake roots

by Daxn

Rating: mature
Tags: Human, Comedy, Random
Length: 21140

A human arrives in Equestria in the form of a 7-months old foal with the mind of a teen. Hilarity Ensues

I wasn't prepared for this.
First I was pedaling to school, thinking about how would be awesome work in Equestria; after I was sleeping in a crib in the Apple's house, with a pacifier in my mouth and a diaper on me. All of that for a blue light popping out of nowhere and the Fate. Better, the Fate that made said blue light appear.
This is my story about how I passed some time as a baby again, and how I returned to my normal routine

Rated Mature for reasons and security (no idea about how the regression "T/M" spans).

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-06-19 04:24:33 UTC

1- Fortuna Crudelissime

Being the baby of the family sucks.

I know it, since I grew up with two brothers and a sister, all of them older than me.

My brothers kept teasing me about my age, and said many times that I was going to be under their care at some point in the future. My parents weren’t going to be around forever; after all, they were quite old. Someone like me would spend years in college, and even after that was finished, it would take years for me, working as a notary, to be able to afford a house of my own, and the fact that all the apartments in Viareggio, Pisa or cities like that were either too expensive or already occupied, left me with a single option: stay under the care of one of my brothers, an event that I wanted to avoid, considering the strong rivalry existing between us.

Me and my brothers never had, and we still don't have, a sense of “brotherhood”, but more a rivality: in fact, until I turned 14, when finally I could stand a chance against them, and establish peace within the force, a fight between my older brother, sister, and I wasn’t an uncommon sight in my house; or an argument between my sister and my younger, yet older than me, brother. As you can guess, this means that going under the care of my brothers meant admitting a defeat, a defeat that wasn't even there...

Apart from that, I'm just a 16-year-old brony with a passion for the Classic Tongues, such as Latin and Ancient Greek. I've translated some episode scripts into Latin and shared them with fellow bronies. I also subtitled an episode in Ancient Greek. That’s how I made my passions intersect. It’s nothing hugely impressive, but still.

One day, Fate looked at me, and wanted to “reward” me in its own personal way, by transporting me to Equestria... but with a twist.

That day seemed like every other day. I woke up at 6:30 A.M. to the military trumpet alarm of my cell phone. I dressed in whatever clothes were at hand. I had a breakfast of milk and cereal, rode my bike to school, attended my language classes, and headed back home for lunch. You know, the usual things.

While I was cycling, I glanced around me. I was biking down a badly paved road, through the “Pine Grove,” an area full of drunks and druggies.

Despite the name, the Pine Grove wasn't a pine grove. It appeared to have every kind of flower and deciduous tree, but not a single pine. The animal life around there consisted of nothing but pigeons and crows.

Looking around, a strange desire filled me, one I knew I’d never be able to fulfill.

I wished to go to Equestria.

I had that desire many times in the past, but at that particular moment, I thought deeper about why I wanted to go there.

First of all, I could work there. Equestria wasn't bound by the laws of my country concerning child labor, and didn’t seem to care about degrees. It would be easy to fake a degree and get a well-paid job, thus killing my “Youngest Child Complex” altogether.

The second reason concerned the culture and environment. I considered myself an adaptable person, and thought I would be able to settle down anywhere in Equestria, no matter if it was a cultural metropolis like Canterlot, an industrial city like Manehattan, or a backwater village like Ponyville. And think of the population! It would probably be difficult to find a mean pony in Equestria.

Third... well, there was the classic reason. I could meet the Mane 6.

After thinking about these reasons, I returned back to reality, recognizing that I was hoping to go to a fantasy world. Sighing, I went back to my cycling, watching where I was pedaling.

But Fate that day felt both generous and mischievous. I had imagined Fate as an old lady weaving a colorful tapestry, where each thread was a life, each turn an important event, and each slice of the knife a life lost.

After that day, Fate seemed more like a toddler smashing his toys together.

What changed my mind?

Because, while I was pedaling on my bike, a blinding, pulsing, blue light appeared in front of me. Scared, I tried to brake, but to no avail. The front wheel of the bike entered in the light, and was promptly atomized.

I didn't know what that light was. Nor did I know how the front wheel, along with a good chunk of the bike, disappeared into the void. But one thing was certain. It wasn't something of this world.

Since I thought that touching the light would kill me, I tried to jump down from the bike, but to no avail. My left foot got sucked in, and soon my entire body followed.

I said my prayers, but after a few seconds, it was clear that it wasn't my time.

On the other side of the light, there was an ethereal room with gray walls and a checkered floor. In the middle of the room, over a red sofa with white arms, I could see a sign proclaiming, “Please sit down, and get ready for your next level of knowledge.”

At first I tried to escape the way I came, but the light that carried me into that room had vanished. So my only option was sitting on the sofa, but I wasn't too fond of that idea. I had no idea what this place was, and that sign above the sofa was starting to creep me out.

But as time passed, I realized that just standing there wasn't much of a better idea.

“Next level of knowledge.” As cryptic as that phrase was, I had to admit it sounded interesting, or at least more interesting than standing around and waiting to die of starvation. Resignedly, I sank into the sofa, hoping that something would finally happen.

After two long minutes of waiting, the room began to shake violently. The walls were torn down brick by brick, like some sort of nightmare you'd have after smashing your LEGO toys. The floor dissolved into a gray goo that gathered under the sofa where I was sitting. Naturally, I panicked and tried to stand up, but I could not, for an invisible chain blocked me. I started swearing like a madman, in the vain hope that someone would finally tell me what was going on.

After five minutes of shaking, and the floors melting and walls being torn apart, I could not stand it anymore. The sheer sensory overload became too much, and I slipped into unconsciousness.

I was awoken by the sound of hooves on grass. I opened my eyes, and saw in front of me an orange, equine-like shape.

The shape was familiar. It looked a lot like Applejack.

I got another look. Yes, that was indeed Applejack, passing by the tree where I was lying.

Even if I was a bit disappointed by the discovery, as Applejack wasn't my favorite pony, it was still welcome to see a friendly face after that madness on the sofa. So I greeted her.

But then I noticed something strange about my voice: the pitch.

The pitch wasn't the deep pitch that my voice usually had. No, my voice was high and annoying, as if I had inhaled helium. But this time, I knew the effect wasn't going to wear off soon.

At first I dismissed my voice as a side effect of turning into a cartoon pony, so I didn't think too hard about it. What happened later proved my original suspicion wrong.

It was harvest day in the apple orchards of Sweet Apple Acres. Applejack and Big MacIntosh were knocking down the last apples off the trees, while Apple Bloom and Granny Smith remained home, rearranging the house.

Applejack was pulling a cart full of green apples to the barn. They shined in the sun, thanks to the morning dew that covered every fruit.

While she pulled the cart, Applejack thought about her position in the Apple Family. She was a void branch, a fruitless branch, without sons or daughters.

The orange pony thought about that, and considered some ways to “fix” that problem. The obvious fix was to marry a stallion, but Applejack wasn't seductive enough to get the loyal ones, nor rich enough to get the greedy ones. The idea of incest flashed in her mind, but she threw it out in disgust; she wasn't that desperate!

Then adoption came to mind. But she rejected that idea. Aside from the red tape, if she was going to adopt, she would have a son not of the Apple Family, but born from two strangers. And since the son wasn't born from an Apple Family member, he wouldn’t be an Apple, and so, Applejack would still be a fruitless branch. Maybe they could make an exception; maybe they would accept a new member, even if he didn't carry in his body pure Apple blood.

After thinking to the topic, Applejack asked herself: why that ? Why so much pride in having many members in the Clan, why so much focus in having said member with pure Apple blood , why every mare in the Clan SHOULD have at least a son, or a daughter?

During the years, she developed a theory about that: maybe, this bond of breeding only purebloods dated at the times just after the Tribe Unification: maybe the ancestors were so prideful of their heritage, that they  ordered to their descendants to breed and show the valor of the Apple Clan to the whole world.

Naturally, since it was a matriarchal society, only the mares were involved in such tradition: the stallions weren't bond to breed.

While the orange pony thought about that, she heard a sharp voice scream, “Ave, Omnia Malum!”*

“Ave Omnia Malum?”

Applejack had never heard such an expression, nor did she know what it meant, but one thing was sure: the voice was coming from a young pony. She was a bit jarred by the presence of a foal in the middle of the orchard. Weren't there signs every 50 meters or so, saying “Private Property”? And all the “Keep out” signs? Clearly this pony either didn't see them, could not read them (but why would he be alone in that case?), or blissfully ignored the signs. In any case, he entered the fields without authorization, so Applejack untied herself from the cart, placed the ropes in the cart, and moved towards the source of the voice to check who was there.

After some time, the farmer pony arrived at the source of the noise. The source was a gray colt with a light brown mane, around 7 months old, and looking a bit lost. Applejack was surprised by what she saw. How it could be possible that a 7 month old foal could slip past his parents’ watch, walk through the whole town unnoticed, and enter in the orchards without anypony even TRYING to figure out why such a little foal was walking around all on his own?

The foal was now reaching his hooves towards her in a desperate manner, and he was saying something.

“Buongiorno, Applejack gloriosa. Sono Venicio Euilocleo, dalla città di Massarosa, i cui abitanti sono cari a Dio. Ero un umano dalle forti gambe e nerborute braccia, prima di giungere qui come piccolo viandante equino. Posso contare nella vostra sacra ξένια ?”+

The way the colt spoke sounded like nonsense to Applejack, the babbling of a foal who knows a few words, and strings together a combination of symbols to try to get adults to understand him. But as she listened, something seemed different. The language that the foal spoke seemed expressive, a language with its own rules, but nothing that could be derived from somepony with an understanding of Equestrian. She sensed words, but what the foal said was totally alien to her. From his tone, she assumed that it was a request of help.

Applejack stood on the spot for a few minutes, and thought to a plan about what to do with the “unexpected guest”.

First, she would carry him home. It was useless to worry about where the foal's parents were right now. Finding them shouldn’t take much time, because they were surely looking for him. It was unlikely that the parents still hadn’t noticed the disappearance of their son.

Second, in order to find his parents, she would check with Town Hall. It was likely that the bulletin board in the town hall already had a notification about a lost foal, a foal whose description matched the foal that Applejack found in her fields.

Third, if the foal was not claimed by anypony, she could adopt him, and reorganize her house accordingly.

The plan was surely foolproof.

After creating the plan, Applejack moved towards the foal. He was starting to flail his front hooves angrily, signaling his utter frustration. The orange pony slowly went near him, and spoke to him with the softest voice she could pull off.

“Calm down, little one, I'm not here to hurt you. I’ll get ya home, but for now, ya’ll come with me. Then we can look for your parents.” The colt seemed highly unimpressed.

My mind was in revolt.

Yes, I was indeed a little colt, and Applejack was convinced that I have parents here.

To add insult to injury, the ponies didn't speak Italian, but English. That was a very big problem, for while I could understand it, I couldn’t speak it well.

"Fortuna, cur me vexat?"+

When I heard that Applejack was going to carry me to her house, I was quite content, but when she said that she was then going to look for my parents, I wasn't so pleased anymore. Since I obviously had no parents here, that would mean I would get assigned to an orphanage… not a good fate.

But at the moment, I could not revolt, nor did I have reasons to do so, so I let her take me and place me on the cart. I would see what was going to happen.

While she pulled the cart, I looked around. Apple trees grew on the little hills for as far as the eye could see, creating a landscape seemingly straight out from a Giovanni Verga's novel, where large estates are the rule, not the exception. In front of me, the red and white barn stood fierily on a bigger hill, giving that mundane building a sense of greatness typical for a barn. The house itself was smaller, but had a quiet dignity of its own.

I’m not sure how much time passed, since the transformation affected my sense of time. Finally, Applejack arrived at the barn. She untied herself and told to me to jump down from the cart and wait there. Then she tipped the cart, letting the apples flood out. Having done this, she signaled for me to follow her to the house, where I was going to meet her family.

Applejack opened a green door at the other end of the barn, letting me pass through it, and explained to me some things about the farm, such as the position of every outlying building, where I could go, where I could not.... Basically, she said the same things that she would say to a visiting foal, like I seemed I was.

Not that I was looking forward to exploring the sheds or cutting the branches off trees anyway. After all, I was the man who was told the most viable job he could get was that of a notary.

When Applejack finished explaining the whole thing, I finally entered Applejack's house through an unhinged, half-burned wooden door. My entrance was welcomed by a loud noise, like slamming the lids of two pots together. I looked worriedly towards the source of the noise and saw that it was Apple Bloom, slamming the lids to create a sound similar to a lunch bell. The filly stopped and greeted Applejack, and then noticed me.

“Applejack, why is there a foal in our house?” Although her words suggested she was upset, in truth Apple Bloom seemed happy at my arrival, as if she had wished for a long time to have a younger sibling.

“Apple Bloom, this little one was in our fields, looking for help, and, likely, his mother. For now, he is with us, but this afternoon ah’m goin’ into town, to Town Hall, and lookin’ to see if there have been any notifications about lost foals. If he isn't claimed by somepony, he will stay with us.”

At the last phrase, Apple Bloom smiled. It seemed quite obvious now that she was excited to see me, just as I was excited to see her, even if I didn't show it much, considering my condition. Instead, I just smiled softly towards her.

The filly went towards me and asked, “What's your name, little colt?”

“Venicio Euilocleo,” I answered.

Apple Bloom smiled at me and said, “Strange name, huh? Mine is Apple Bloom, but ya can call me AB! How did ya get here anyway?”

The question was answered indirectly by Applejack. “He can't speak Equestrian properly since he is 7 months old, though it almost sounds like he has his own language.”

“Oh,” Apple Bloom responded. At that point, another problem related to my apparent age popped up. “And now that ah think about it Applejack, do we have some diapers? Just in case he isn’t potty trained?”

“Of course I’m potty trained!” I thought, prideful. But soon I felt something warm and wet on my crotch….

CRAP!

I screamed out full force, “FATE, FATE, WHY DO YOU PERSECUTE ME SO? DO YOU REALLY NEED TO DO THIS RIGHT NOW?”

The filly heard and saw what happened, and said, “Never mind. We definitely need some diapers!”

My anger almost made me combust. Not only was I a little colt, seemingly incapable of speech, but I also lost control of my bodily functions.

Porco.Giuda.

2- Meet the Family

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)

3-Morning

Peaceful.

That was the word that defined the atmosphere that one could feel in the Apples' house. Everything was silent, everything was in order, and everypony was sleeping... or were they?

Apple Bloom was awakened by the limited light coming through the badly closed window in her room, a room that she now shared with Venicio. She started sharing her room the day before, when Venicio was found in the fields and adopted by her family.

When Applejack discovered that Venicio wasn't claimed by anypony in town, Apple Bloom feared that her big sister was going to give the colt to an orphanage.  That was something she wished to avoid, since she somehow felt bonded to him, like she felt bonded to Applejack and her brother. Basically, after staying with him for a few minutes, the yellow filly already considered the grey colt to be like a brother.

In fact, as soon as Applejack went to Town Hall knowing to communicate her decision about the fate of Venicio, Apple Bloom decided for herself to share her room with him.  The filly started to prepare everything necessary. Apple Bloom used a good portion of her savings to buy some extra milk at the Farmers’ Market and powder and diapers from the emporium.  She actually tidied her bedroom, making room for Venicio’s crib.  She was in the zone, and in the span of a few hours, she accomplished what would normally take days, even with the help of other ponies.

In fact, Apple Bloom's dedication to doing such things surprised Applejack and her brother, whom had never seen the filly so glad to do manual labor.  They knew that she would likely regret it dearly, since it was well known that babies are merciless about their sleep cycles. But Apple Bloom seemed unaware of that, and no amount of advice seemed capable of convincing her otherwise, so she went through with her “sacrifice”.

Now Apple Bloom was watching Venicio sleep deeply, dressed in his yellow pajama, no sound coming from him apart from his breathing, slow and calm. After staring for a while, Apple Bloom decided to go back to sleep.  It was Sunday, and she had nothing she needed to do, and nothing she wanted to do either.

After that unholy rant when I got proof that I wasn't dreaming, I decided to stop raging about what was going on, and actually do something to help me escape. I had my “breakfast”, a baby bottle filled with milk, which gave me the opportunity to think.  First of all, I had to find a pony that could understand me, a task easier said than done.  I didn’t know any language known by both parts, as I could not speak English and they could not speak Italian, and to pick up the language by listening to what ponies were saying would take time. Time that I didn't have.

Another way was to write. I was more than capable of writing something in English that would make sense, so a good chunk of the language barrier would be down.  The problem was I had no idea how to write without hands. The bending allowed by my hooves didn't seem stable enough to hold a pen and write decently, and using my mouth wasn't going to be pleasurable for me.

Second, I could convince the listener that I was actually a human turned into a foal. That should be an easy process; no foal of seven months would have the personality of, more or less, an adult.

Third, I could find a way of returning home. Well, I had no idea HOW I arrived, but I was sure that I was going to find someone capable of helping me in returning home, back to the turmoil that I called “family”.

When I finished thinking about how I could escape from Equestria, I found that I was in a different room.  This room featured two green couches on my left, and an angular wooden chest of drawers with some books on it on my right.  Scattered all over the place were toys of various kinds and size, along with some pencils and pieces of paper, giving away part of the supposed function of the room.

I rotated my head, and saw who carried me to that “living room”: Applejack.  As she left, she turned, smiling towards me, and spoke.  “Now ah have to go, but don't worry. Ah’m not leaving ya forever, like your original mother did, ah’m just going away for a while.”

Applejack’s decision to leave me alone made me facehoof.  Now, leaving me wasn't a problem, since I was more than capable of avoiding causing great harm to myself.  But if in my place there had been a real foal, then Applejack was going to return needing, at best, some bandages, and in the worst case scenario, a body bag. Even leaving me for few minutes wasn't such a great idea, since the room didn't have any door to separate it from the rest of house.

Anyway, since I wasn't going to tempt fate too much or threaten the safety of the house by doing absolutely idiotic things, I started, again, to think about what to do. I refused to play with the toys scattered in the room; after all, I still had some dignity left to defend at all costs. I opted to try to write something. I took a pencil in my left hoof, then I took a piece of paper, and I tried to write a simple phrase.

“O tempora, o mores.”

I made a slow circular movement with the pencil, but what came out was more an oval than a circle.  I tried again, this time actually watching how I was doing that. But it was in vain. The “o” still seemed like an oval.

Since it seemed that I wasn't capable of writing by hoof in a decent way, I decided to do some hand exercises, the kind that people with some nerve damage in their hand do. I rotated my left hoof around thirty times; then I tapped the hoof on the floor one hundred times, and then repeated the process ad nauseam.

By the time I was tired of doing exercises for my hoofwriting, I observed that I was still alone, without anyone watching me, and so I laughed. In a normal scenario, after the time that had passed since Applejack left me alone in the living room, a normal foal would be splattered on the floor, bleeding and crying after losing an eye, suffocated by a pillow....countless possibilities, some of them quite grave, but each and every one avoidable with some supervision.  One wouldn’t even need obsessive supervision, like a starving vulture circling over a dying animal, but at least peek in every half hour or so.

But those were things that did not concern me too much.

I was, again, bored out of my skull, and I had nothing to do, then I thought to the books....

The books! The glorious, lovable books!

Someone told me that reading was like riding a bike: once learned, never forgotten. Another spot of hope.

But an obstacle was in my way; the height of the shelves. They were too far out of my reach, unless I climbed the drawers, climbing that I was not sure I could do.

But if I wanted to get the books, I needed to climb the drawers.  If I didn’t, I was going to get bored very quickly, and when I get bored, I do the stupidest things, and God knows what I would do in that situation...

I stood thinking about how to solve the issue, until I got an idea by examining the couches. One of these pieces of furniture was quite close to the shelf where the books lied, and the pillows were plentiful. Maybe I could stack them to reach the top.

I tried to do so. I picked up all the green and red pillows, stacked them on the arm of the couch near the drawer, tested their stability... and saw that they were highly unstable.

Since I wasn't fond of getting covered in blood, or banging my head on the floor, I almost gave up my quest, until I thought about the toys. In particular, the building blocks. Said blocks were big and durable, and yet light: perfect, as the basis for a little staircase.

So, I disassembled the stack of pillows, arranged the building blocks in an orderly way, united them with other blocks, then created a true “pillow stair” with the pillows.

When my work was done, I saw that it was stable enough to walk on safely. I felt like a genius for having such an idea, using a basic principle of architecture, generally used with stone and wood, and applying it to plastic and feathers. What a good idea!

After that brag, I actually walked up the makeshift ramp, and saw that it was wavering, but nothing too serious. When I reached the top of the chest of drawers, I could finally see what the literary offerings of the Apple house were. I was disappointed. Apart from the classic Treccani, aptly named “Three Doggies”, the other books seemed quite bad. I saw a little collection of pulp story magazines, two fable books, and four coverless book that seemed, nonetheless, not very good.

Sighing, I pushed the encyclopedia off the top of the drawer with all my force, and then went down, dismantling the stair to leave no proof of my efforts, apart from the encyclopedia being on the ground. I opened a random page, just to pass the time reading, and to gain some knowledge.

Apple Bloom was utterly surprised, and amused, at the scene in front of her. Venicio was pretending to read the old encyclopedia, and he seemed to be concentrating, like if he was really interested in what was written. But it was clear that he was just looking at the images, though; no foal of such an age could be capable of reading something, especially if that “something” was a big book, written with very small typefaces, in technical and difficult language.  Plus, his eyes were moving too fast.

When the filly saw that scene, she immediately felt the desire to go to Venicio and cuddle him for a bit.  She moved towards Venicio, sat down on his right, and said, “So, Venicio, what are ya doing?”

He jumped a little in fright, then, recomposing himself, answered, “Mi informo sulle meraviglie di questo mondo, signorina Apple Bloom”+

Apple Bloom's heart stopped for a second.

Venicio said her name.

Her name.

He heard it only three times, possibly four.

And yet he remembered her name.

Apple Bloom smiled sincerely towards Venicio, and started to rub a hoof in his light brown mane. Venicio stopped his “reading”, rolled towards the filly, and started to make a sound similar to the purring of a cat. It was clear that Venicio was enjoying it.

Another thing that I appreciated about my regression, and about staying in the Apples’ house, was seeing Apple Bloom happy.  I think she was happy because she thinks that I had said my first word in Equestrian, and that word was her name, and I also think she liked getting cuddled by somebody.

In fact, just when Apple Bloom started to rub her hoof through my mane, I overreacted, and purred in pleasure. Considering the fact that, until then, I only felt another's hand on my skin when being attacked by somebody, and that I didn't have much chance to do such things when I was a baby for real, I more than appreciated receiving her love now.  It felt extraordinary.

Then I started to return her affection by putting my front legs around her and hugging her. Surprisingly, I was still quite strong in my “arms”, since Apple Bloom blushed and tried to detach me from her, a sign that she was suffocating because of the strength of my hug.

The cycle of affection kept going for God knows how long, until Applejack came in.

“Apple Bloom, ya sure do love Venicio, don't ya?” she said. “Anyway, it’s lunch time. We’re waiting for ya upstairs.”

Huh? Midday already? Wow, time sure flies, though I had no idea what time it was when I had woken up.

Anyway, another morning of incarceration in a foal's body had passed. At the table, the atmosphere was calmer. Big Macintosh actually tried two times to stop me from going on an eating rampage, and succeeded; Granny Smith, even though she wasn't totally pleased by my presence, at least didn't look like she wanted to dissolve me in acid; Applejack prepared enough food for the larger number of family members; and Apple Bloom tried to feed me, though I kindly refused to let her do so.

While I was eating, I caught a conversation between Big Macintosh and Applejack.  “Big Mac, this afternoon mah friends are coming over here: since ah want ta share mah snack with them, could ya please NOT touch whatever ya find in the oven?”

“Eeyup.”

In front of me, a figurative light appeared.  The event seemed to be a Deus Ex Machina of great importance. Applejack's friends, namely, the rest of  the Mane 6, were going to be in her house that afternoon. For my escape plan, this was a great boost, because with the power of Twilight and her knowledge, it was likely that I would be able to go back home in no time.

After my struggles with the language barrier, all was now simpler for me. I had to just wait, prove my true age in front of the six mares, and then I was free to return to home. Everything was going to be fine.

But, for now, I was still just a 7-month old foal in the eyes of the others, so I had to wait.

4- "Yet, another hope crushed"

After lunch, I was forced to take a nap, and sleep for, I think, an hour.

But since I needed only 5 hours or so of sleep, and wanted to keep reading, I did not take it well, and tried several times to sneak past their surveillance. Not that was going to succeed anyway, even with my small frame, since I wasn’t a sneaky guy in my human form.  It was easy for the Apples to catch me.

The whole thing would just have been annoying and extremely boring, if it wasn't for some “pearls of wisdom” coming from Applejack.

“You need to take your nap every day, if you want to grow up smart and strong.”

Pity, I was already smart and strong, at least in the body I actually grew up in. I looked like this because Fate made a blue light appear, dragged me into this situation, and, since Fate is very, very immature, decided to have fun with me and turn me into a foal. And there we were.

“If you don't sleep now, then you will not be able to sleep tonight.”

Great insane troll logic, Applejack. One day maybe you will challenge Princess Celestia in trolling. But you don't fool me. I need only five hours of sleep in each twenty-four, and I had already slept for five hours, if not more.

And getting drowsy later wasn't a problem for me. After all, we are talking about the man that needed to wake up at dawn every day of the year, if he wanted to eat something for breakfast. I had been doing that ever since I was three years old. Even if I was unsteady for a time after waking up, soon after my body would be completely functional.

But, anyway, Applejack finally managed to make me give up trying to exit the room, and she bid me goodnight while closing the windows.  And so I was forced to wait... or was I?

I saw in the dim light a huge sack of books and notebooks.

Clearly, Applejack forgot the fact that I shared the room with Apple Bloom, and that she still had her books in it. Eventually, the filly was going to enter the room and take out her school material to do her homework.

Why was this important for passing the time?

Because, maybe, Apple Bloom was going to take out the books, notice that I was awake, and, somehow, change her mind about where do her schoolwork. And maybe I could help Apple Bloom, since I did already complete grade school. Helping the filly with her schoolwork seemed a needed act of kindness, after all she did for me.

And so I waited in my crib, for a time that seemed endless.  I scratched my head from time to time, and spent time trying to tell what object I was looking at in the limited light coming from the door and window. Sometimes I looked at a lamp, sometimes t a shelf, sometimes at a picture hanging on the wall.

Yes, I was that bored. You would be like that too, if you were stuck in a room, waiting for something that was going to happen soon, but, since you are not aware of the passage of time, you couldn’t know exactly when it would happen.

After such a tense period of waiting, finally the filly entered in the room. She opened the windows, and saw that I was awake, but I was not mad towards her. She smiled, and said “Hey Venicio! Sorry, I can't play with you right now... but after I finish my homework, we can play!”

I took the momentum, and rolled down, ran towards the desk with the books, took a book entitled “The colors, the magic”, and opened it.

Apple Bloom wasn't impressed, and said a bit more sternly “Venicio... not now!”  She tried to kick me off the desk.

Offended, I took a pencil, and quickly wrote “I'm trying to help you!”

Naturally, since I wasn't very good at hoofwriting, it looked like shit, but it seemed readable.

Not to Apple Bloom, though.  She clearly dismissed my writing as a bland attempt to mimic her, and told me to quit asking to her to play. I kept saying that I was trying to help her do her homework, and maybe improve her knowledge, since I had at my command the knowledge of 13 years of successful scholarship.

The argument kept going, and going, until, finally, I gave up, and let her do her business without my help.

I thought that was the end, and I was going to stay bored for a seemingly infinite time if I stayed any longer in that room. So I climbed down from the desk and moved out the room.

As soon I exited the room, my body finished digesting my lunch, and made me soil my diaper without any further warning. Feeling the crap splattered all over my now hairy bottom, for the first time in so many years, felt extremely uncomfortable, and in all honesty, I wanted to cry. But that would be unnecessary, so I decided to go to the bathroom, and try to change my own diaper.

I tried to move silently towards the bathroom, trying not to get caught by Applejack or Big Macintosh. Even if this task was made more difficult by the fact I had mess all over my bottom, a bad sensation that I was not used to.  Every step made me felt dirtier than the step before, and I knew that, now that I moved myself, I risked getting a bad rash if I hesitated for too long to change myself.

And so I moved, calculating each step, trying every time to prepare myself for the bad sensation. After a long walk that, in my eyes, made the forced marches described by Caesar in “Commentarii De Bello Gallico” pale in comparison, I finally reached my goal, and prepared myself to be cleaned.

I looked around, searching for a pack of diapers and a can of baby powder on the shelves of the bathroom, and I found them quite easily. The problem was reaching said items, since I was too short and not very agile on my own.

I looked around me, searching for something to climb to the shelves where the supplies were stacked, but I found very few things: a tall soap box, a little metal stepladder, and the series of handles on the little drawers near the shelves. That was all I had to reach my goal.

Sighing, I took the stepladder, placing it near the drawers, leaving a little space to place the soap box.  I then placed the box in this space, and then tried to climb the drawers. I was so focused that I didn't see someone coming.

When Big Macintosh entered Apple Bloom's room, he was worried by the absence of Venicio, who wasn't in his crib anymore. And, as the stallion recalled it was Venicio’s naptime....

He asked Apple Bloom if she knew where Venicio was, and she answered that, after a failed attempt to get her attention, he exited from the room.

The stallion felt a cold sweat as he heard the news.

Big Macintosh started to fret about where Venicio was, and if something bad had happened to him. It wasn't a true sense of caring towards the gray colt. Although he would feel bad if he let a family member get hurt, he was more worried about the eventual reaction from his sisters.  Applejack would likely scold him even if it was Apple Bloom's fault that the door was open.  Little Apple Bloom would start to go crazy if something happened to Venicio.  It was not a good situation, since he hated arguing and things like that.

And so the stallion started to look around the house, trying to hide his worry from the eyes of the other members of his family.

He ran towards his bedroom, but saw that the door was locked. It was unlikely that Venicio entered a locked door.  The doors to every other bedroom were also locked.

For some reason, Big Macintosh doubted that Venicio went downstairs, and so he was left with only one option, the bathroom.

He moved towards that room, and finally found his adopted brother. He was climbing the drawers, and looked like he was about to fall down.

He ran towards him, grabbed him by the tail, placed him on the floor, and scolded him, saying that what he was trying to do was quite dangerous, and might have ended with him getting hurt very badly.

Venicio answered. “Il signor Big Macintosh è pregato di andare alla stazione: il treno 'Sono indipendente' lo aspetta.”("Mister Big Machintosh it's needed at the train station: the train 'I am indipendent' is awiting him)

The stallion sighed: he still didn't understood what he was saying to him, but, in all honesty, he didn't care.

Then the red stallion smelled something coming from Venicio's bottom. Yes, Venicio needed a diaper change, and, for some reason, he was trying to do it by himself. It was an interesting sight, watching a foal try to change himself.

But Big Macintosh could not let him do that, so he took him again, placed him on the changing table, took a diaper and the can of baby powder and did what he had to do.

Sometime later, three mares approached the Apples’ house. One was pink with a curly mane of the same color, another one had a yellow fur and a light pink mane, and, finally, the last one was a cyan pegasus mare with a mane of all the colors of the rainbow.  Their names were, respectively, Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy, and Rainbow Dash; they were invited by Applejack to “celebrate” the end of the harvest at Sweet Apple Acres, and to have some time together after a long spring where  each pony had worked hard at their jobs.

After a long walk, the group of mares finally reached a bench with some food on it, with a smiling Applejack standing nearby. They greeted each other, sat down, and talked about anything and everything.

After some random chat, Applejack noticed the absence of her fashionista friend, Rarity, and the freshly-crowned Princess Twilight Sparkle. Since she wasn't very involved in the gossip going around town, and since she wanted to know what her other two friends were doing, she asked “So, any news from Twilight and Rarity?”

“Twilight is fine, AJ, she is simply submerged by the red tape and politics, and her fretting for doing things,” Rainbow Dash said. “For now, until she gets used to doing some things very fast and without thinking too much about them, she will be imprisoned in her library.”

“She isn't imprisoned there! She is simply blocked in, signing boring paperwork, and she is doing it super slowly!” Pinkie Pie said.

“And that's kinda a self-imposed incarceration... not that she wasn't self-incarcerated somewhere before anyway,” Rainbow Dash continued.

“Not very kind on your part Rainbow Dash, but I guess that's the truth,” Applejack said in a reprimanding tone. “And what about Rarity?”

“Rarity? No one has seen her in a few days, and what Sweetie Belle says she’s doing isn't probably something we should put much faith in,” said Rainbow Dash.

Fluttershy broke her silence. “What does Sweetie Belle say about her sister?”

“She says that she is trying to strangle the cat to create a new dress….”

Fluttershy gasped.

“But I'm certain that's just a foal's imagination,” Rainbow Dash said. “Rarity’s probably in one of her 'creative periods', the ones where she’s gone mad with inspiration, forgetting about the health of herself and her sister….”

“I think we can all agree that’s probably what happened!”

The four friends laughed, and, at the end of their laugh, a squeaky voice was heard coming from the house.

“Ave, Omnia Malum; Caelestis Arcus Cursus; Roseus Panis et Pavidum Ventilatum! Venicio sum: quomodo alicui prosum vobis quivi?”  ("Greetings, Applejack; Rainbow Dash; Pinoie Pie and Fluttershy ! Iam Venicio: how can I serve ?")

Everypony looked for the source of the voice, and saw who said it: a gray colt with a light brown mane, somewhere between five months and a year old.

“Ahem... this is Venicio... he is the newest member of my family,” Applejack said, a bit embarrassed. “I found him in the fields, looking for somepony.”

Venicio exited from the door, and moved towards Fluttershy, saying, “Pavidum Ventilatum, quomodo tua vita geris?” ("Fluttershy, how it's going on your life ?")

While Venicio sat down near the yellow pegasus, nuzzling her body softly, Fluttershy asked “Uh, what is he saying, Applejack? I've never heard anything like that.”

The orange pony answered. “I have no idea, Fluttershy. He talks in his own language, and, frankly, I don't understand a darn thing.”

“Me neither! But it seems like a 'welcome' message for us, and that is the only thing that matters here. Look, give me time, and I will organize a party for him!” Pinkie Pie said.

“I've heard a language like that somewhere before,” Rainbow Dash said. “It was in some boring bureaucratic situation, but I don't remember anything about it. In fact, I didn't understand anything that pony said!”

Applejack was surprised. “You say that you heard that language somewhere else, Rainbow Dash?” she commented.

“Yes, but I can't help you at all. Sorry, it was a long time ago.”

“Do you remember, at least, a tiny bit?”

“Nope, AJ, not a single word,” Rainbow Dash said.

At the last phrase, Applejack sighed in annoyance. She still knew nothing about Venicio's language.

I was utterly disappointed. No Rarity and no Twilight Sparkle, the only ponies that could, to some degree, understand me, and help me in escaping from Equestria, since they were, most likely, educated mares. Why this ?

From that bit of dialogue, I learned that Latin actually existed in Equestria, but it's the language of either diplomacy or the arts. Either way, it was good news, because I now had a common language. Instead, I got Fluttershy, Rainbow Dash, and Pinkie Pie.

They were nice ponies, but less than useful when it came to helping me.

It wasn't a terrible defeat, though: simply, the “right pony” surely wasn't Applejack, nor were Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy or Rainbow Dash.

But I was a foal, so I had no choice but to stay with her. And only God knew if I was going to meet other ponies that could help me in my quest to escape.

Anyway, the meeting with the Mane 4 was still pleasurable, from the point of view of their hospitality. Between the sweet words cuddles from Fluttershy, the weird sense of joy and playfulness that seeing a baby younger than her brought out of Pinkie Pie, and the warm indifference of Rainbow Dash, I had nothing to complain about. Yes, I did have the meeting of my dreams, even if there were some twists.

After a long time, they finally dismissed, and returned home: in mean time, I didn't noticed the, now familiar, warm sensation in the crotch...

5- Cutie Mark Crusarders Arguers YAY !

After that meeting with the Mane 4, I felt both pranked by Fate and relieved. Yes, I wasn't any nearer to escape than before, but, at the same time, I knew it was surely only a matter of time before I found a pony capable of speaking Latin.

But, again, I needed to wait, and the fact that I wasn't aware of the passage of time anymore worsened the wait. Not only was I going to get bored soon, but I would have no way of knowing for how long I would be stuck doing nothing.  That was a terrible situation to be in.

While I was in my crib in Apple Bloom's room, waiting to sleep on the same night of the meeting, I thought about what to do while waiting to meet randomly somepony who could speak Latin. Part of my mind wanted to maintain the same behavior that I had for the past two days, even if it meant going absolutely crazy while enduring being treated as a foal as time passed at an imperceptible pace.

Why did I think that?

First was the matter of dignity. If someone at home were to find out that I acted like a baby, I would be a laughingstock.  That’s not a good result.

Second was the issue of pedophobia.  My worst fear, back home, was regressing to childhood, that time when the liberty of your actions is strongly limited, and when your knowledge and intelligence is near zero.  You are constantly told not to worry about the bad things that happen within your family or elsewhere; if they deign to tell you anything, it is said in a way to soften the blow.  Adults treat you like a pile of living trash.  You can’t tell when your parents are hiding something.  The list goes on and on.  And for me, I spent my childhood moving from one clinic to another, living with brothers who kept attacking me physically.  And that’s why I feared becoming a child again, especially with my adult awareness.  All the bad experiences I left behind would unite with my present problems, forming a recurring nightmare.

Finally, there was pride.  How could I feel proud of doing so many stupid things, all the while just doing things I had already done in the past?

The other part of my mind said that, if I needed to stay there for a while as a foal, it would be better to seize the day, “carpe diem”, and expand my knowledge. After all, even if it was a bit degrading, an experience was still an experience, and this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience!

What were the counterpoints?

About my dignity, no one, apart from some ponies that I would never see ever again, would ever know that I acted like a baby for some time.

Plus, nothing forbade me from taking one of the books in the house and reading it.  That way, I could make sure that I wasn't going to end up like the Lotus Eaters in The Odyssey: men that, once they tasted the lotus, forgot about their homeland and their families, and decided to stay there, forever eating the lotus.

As for pedophobia, I knew that if I was going to stay in Equestria, I would eventually grow up. But the lack of sensing the passage of time would cause an apparent slowdown in my aging.  Thinking about it, it wouldn’t be as bad as my actual childhood.  Some of childhood’s problems stemmed from only being alive for a few months or years, and my 16-year old mind could see through the lies.  The bad things that happened in my family weren’t going to follow me here.  So, only about 5% of my list of worries were going to kick in.  Free from my problems at home, staying here would be a magnificent holiday for my mind.

And so the decision was set. I no longer had problems doing those actions that, normally, only babies did.  I would do whatever I felt like doing, without restrictions or penalties, because I had a page in the “experience encyclopedia” in my brain to fill with this. I had the desire to loosen up a bit.

After that decision, I drifted to sleep, sucking my pacifier slowly....

After that night, for a long time, everything went quite smoothly. Applejack was cycling between taking care of me and growing other crops in the fields of the farm; Big Macintosh kept working in the fields all day; Apple Bloom, thanks to the passion typical of kids of that age, tried in every way possible to integrate me in her activities besides schoolwork and studying. All I can say about my time spent with Apple Bloom is that it was quite enjoyable.

Only Granny Smith kept seemed not to like me, but I guess that was normal; she was a mare near the end of her days, and not used to change.

During that unquantifiable time, many funny episodes involving me and the rest of the family happened, but I want to tell you my favorite one: the attempt, by the Cutie Mark Crusaders, to babysit me, and the side effect of calling people by their Latin names, especially when their name is on the border of decency....

In a small tree house near the fields of the Apple family, three fillies were sitting on the floor, and they were thinking about what to do that evening.

The white one, her name being Sweetie Belle, asked “Have we already tried to get a gardening cutie mark?”

The orange one, named Scootaloo, was circling her penknife so much that it made a hole in the table.  “We tried it,” she said, sticking the knife in the hole she whittled.

Apple Bloom removed her hooves from her temples, and said “Mmmm... woodcraft?”

“We did that to death,” Scootaloo said, dismissing the proposal.

The white filly unsurely asked “Have we already tried sewing?”

Scootaloo sniffed.  “And where are we going to get the supplies for it? From your sister?”

“Why not?”

“She is in a creative frenzy right now.  She is looking for inspiration and materials for a new dress, and Celestia save us if Rarity spots us.”

“What? What do you fear, getting skinned by her?”

“No, I simply hate standing still for that long.”

The three fillies snorted.  It seemed that they had nothing to do together that day.

Apple Bloom was ready to dismiss the meeting, when she recalled her new brother, and how Applejack and Big Macintosh were absent for a while.  Her brother gave her the task of taking care of Venicio.  Truth be told, she seriously didn't want to do it. While she loved him, the filly wanted to hang out that day, and so, after her siblings left, she left the house and went towards the Cutie Mark Crusaders’ tree house, where she hoped to do something other than dealing with a 7-month old foal.

She was wrong.  The filly had no choice but to babysit, but she didn’t have to do it alone.  She could have her friends join.  If she was going to suffer, she would distribute the suffering among three ponies.

After thinking that, Apple Bloom said triumphantly “I have an idea! You know my adopted brother, right?”

Both the other fillies nodded

“Well, guess what. Applejack and Big Macintosh have left town for a while, and they asked me to take care of him. Problem is, I don't like do it alone....”

Scootaloo, with a smirk on her face, interrupted Apple Bloom.  “And so you are asking us to do part of one of your chores? I don't think so.”

Sweetie Belle glared at the orange filly, and said “Scootaloo, that wasn't very kind on your part. And, for what I remember, we never tried to get a foalsitting cutie mark....”

“And, since Venicio doesn’t seem inclined to whine if something goes wrong, we can safely assume that he is the best foal to try sitting for.”

“Well, fine,” Scootaloo said. “At least we aren't trying to get a cutie mark for watching paint dry, counting the feathers of a bird, or something like that.”

Then the three fillies stood up, and screamed “CUTIE MARK CRUSADERS FOALSITTERS YAY!”

At the moment when Sweetie Belle, Scootaloo and Apple Bloom arrived, I was playing with some cardboard boxes full of some kind of green Styrofoam, destroying said boxes with my hooves and head, and breaking the strange Styrofoam into small balls.  I was so absorbed by that activity that I didn't see nor hear the arrival of the three fillies in the house. I noticed their arrival only when Apple Bloom greeted me with “Ave, Venicius, wham tu doing ?”

It was a cute attempt to speak Latin without understanding a word of it.  She was still thinking that Latin was some kind of baby talk, but I appreciated the attempt, so I greeted them back.

“Ave, Malorum Tempus Florum,” ( "Greetings, Applebloom) I said and then noticed Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. I continued my greeting with “Ah, Dulcem Pulchritudinem et Fugam Ab Latrinam, vos vista gradita est.” (" Ah, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo ! Your presence is good ")

Basically, I said that I was glad to see them, and, since Sweetie Belle was the sister of Rarity, I hoped that she at least had a basic understanding of Latin and could be my translator.

To my surprise, only Scootaloo recognized her name in Latin. And she wasn't happy about that.

“Wait a minute, your brother just called me a name that Silver Spoon calls me from time to time, 'Fugam Ab Latrinam', and that's not a compliment!” she said.

“What's the problem with that, Scootaloo?” Apple Bloom asked, curious.

“'Fugam Ab Latrinam' means, in some kind of weird language, 'Running from the loo,'” the orange filly said with a nearly angry tone of voice.

“How could that be?  He has never met you, or Silver Spoon! How he could know your offensive nickname?  It must be a coincidence!” Apple Bloom said, genuinely shocked.

In light of this situation, I had no idea how to react. Laugh, because I accidentally messed up my first meeting with Scootaloo by calling her an embarrassing name in Latin, thinking that she was totally ignorant of its meaning? Scold myself because I said her self-deprecating name in Latin, even if I had no idea that she knew its meaning?  Or pretend that nothing happened, knowing that Apple Bloom was going to cover my ass?

Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle, seemingly unaware about what was going on, went near me, and introduced herself and Scootaloo. Not that I needed the introduction, since I already knew them, but still....

While the white filly talked, I kept watching what Apple Bloom and Scootaloo were doing in front of my eyes, and it was interesting to see to say the least.

Scootaloo felt forsaken by her friends. In front of her, a 7-month old foal had just called her the insulting nickname given to her by a schoolyard bully. Silver Spoon used her education and great knowledge of culture in the service of wickedness when she came up with the name “Fugam Ab Latrinam”.

“Fugam Ab Latrinam”: In an ancient and weird language, that according to Silver Spoon was still used in some fields, it meant “Escaping From the Loo”; and, according to said bully, her destiny was to be “full of dung” and things like that.

That teasing was one of the few things that could make her aggressive towards another pony. The problem was, Silver Spoon could take a lot of verbal punishment without flinching or complaining, but if she escalated by making it physical, then she could say that Scootaloo started the fight in the first place.  And that would redirect the punishment to one innocent orange pegasus....

Hearing the name would ruin her week, and quite a few past weeks were ruined just like that.  And now she was hearing it again, coming out of a foal's mouth, a foal that should not know it.

He would not know it, unless her friends just taught the foal to say the name. Then they invited her into the house with said foal, just to pull a prank on her.

Unfortunately, she hated that kind of prank, and she reacted angrily. “Wait a minute, your brother just called me a name that Silver Spoon calls me from time to time, 'Fugam Ab Latrinam', and that's not a compliment!” she said.

Apple Bloom asked what the problem with that was, and the orange pegasus filly answered, with an annoyed voice, that the name meant something offensive in an ancient language.

“How could that be?  He has never met you, or Silver Spoon! How he could know your offensive nickname?  It must be a coincidence!” Apple Bloom said, obviously showcasing her great acting skills.

Scootaloo answered sarcastically.  “Oooh, right. Silver Spoon, the filly that is very proud of her knowledge, and the haughtiest filly in Ponyville, if not all Equestria, insults me with the same language that a farmer foal uses to talk with his family. Please.”

Apple Bloom placed her muzzle against Scootaloo's. “Say what? Watch what you’re saying, please. I would never do that to you.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you that this wasn’t a prank. But that still doesn’t explain HOW he can speak an ancient language, when he can’t speak Equestrian!”

“Maybe his made-up speech is very similar to that language, Scootaloo. Surely he doesn’t know a word of it!”

“Or... he isn't truly a foal! He is a shape shifting alien from another dimension, an eldritch abomination, a....”

Apple Bloom interrupted Scootaloo’s rant dead in its tracks. “You read too many horror stories,” she said. “And I thought that after the round of nightmares you had while camping, you started to hate the horror genre....”

Scootaloo facehoofed. “All right, as you wish, if that’s what you want to think about him,” she said. “It's your 'brother', after all. Anyway, I'd prefer to get out of here. Thanks for inviting us over.”  With that, Scootaloo exited the house, an indignant emotion evident on her face.

The discussion indeed seemed impressive to my eyes. seeing Apple Bloom and Scootaloo, until few minutes before close friends, arguing if what a 7-month old foal (namely, me) said was intentional or not, and, if the latter was true, why Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle did this kind of “prank” to her.

After that argument, Scootaloo left, saying something about how she wanted to leave her friends for that day.

Briefly, before she turned to head towards the door, I read in her eyes the desire to know how it could be possible that I knew Latin, especially as I was a foal in a family of farmers, and, particularly, how I knew her name. Soon her questions would be answered by the foal in question.

Anyway, after a little wave of sadness passed through Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, the two fillies started to get to work with me, and, I must say, they were quite competent, for being pony equivalents of 8-year old girls. They actually watched my movements fairly carefully, to stop me from getting hurt (again, that would be the concern in a normal foalsitting scenario). They weren't very fussy when it came time to change me.  The two fillies, especially Sweetie Belle, were kind to me, willing to play with me even though I was, as far as they knew, an infant.

When they decided that it was time for Sweetie Belle to leave and for both of them to put me to sleep, I heard a disappointed sigh coming from the door; no cutie mark had appeared. I guess that Fate was a lot kinder to them, since a foalsitting cutie mark, after so many years of trying, would not be so nice....

6- Steps foward (edited)

After that afternoon when Scootaloo figured out that I wasn't a real foal, but made the wrong assumptions, and when Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom foalsat me competently, and saw that their destiny wasn't foalsitting, time started to flow normally for me again.  I had a usual routine: awakening, breakfast, miscellaneous activities, lunch, nap, miscellaneous activities, bath, dinner, sleep. It was a very repetitive cycle, but that was fine by me; after all, my routine at home wasn't so different, I just added work in the morning and studying in the afternoon.

Anyway, again, countless days passed in front of me, leaving few or no traces on the subsequent days, like weak winds in the Gobi Desert. The fact that I had lost the sense of time passing started to seem less like a curse, because I didn't have the burden of having to study anymore, and so time lost a lot of its meaning for me. Rather, because of that, forgetting what day it was was useful for the most part, because I had no idea if I had already done something the day before. I just remembered that I had done it somewhere in the time line, but not when I did it.

And so I always tried to pretend I was living the same day over and over, so that I wouldn't grow bored with what I was doing.

I stopped to do this, and actually counted days during a (I think) weekly stroll with Apple Bloom, when I met a  very cocky, intelligent, and refined filly: Silver Spoon. Admittedly, since I discovered that Latin existed in Equestria as the language of the arts, my bets were all on the gray filly with glasses. Until that day, meeting her seemed unlikely at best.

I was so wrong.

It all happened during the afternoon of a clear day near the beginning of summer. The free older ponies were sitting under awnings, drinking and talking with others, or walking around; the couples were sitting on benches, talking and displaying affection for each other; and  parents were watching carefully their children as they roamed around the small town park, or pushing around strollers with babies, alternately crying and sleeping.

Guess which category I was in at the moment.

Anyway, while I was looking around me from my uncomfortable position, I watched the ponies around me, trying to see if I could recognize any of them, but I could not. All the faces present in that park were unfamiliar to me.

That was, until I saw a gray shape with a mane faintly colored blue-gray.  I watched that shape as it was coming near me, until it finally revealed itself: the shape was Silver Spoon.

Since she was the only familiar face in the horde of unknown ponies going around, I greeted her when she passed near my stroller.  “Ave, o dives Cochlear  Argenti ! Quomodo tua vitam geris?”

That greeting was the light at the end of the tunnel.

Silver Spoon was enjoying a walk after the work she had done earlier in the afternoon. She completed her homework in a matter of minutes; she moved all the furniture of her  bedroom in preparation for the arrival of a little order of Basic Theory of Architecture books for future use; and she just had returned some books to the library.  Now Silver Spoon was going around the town, breathing in the fresh air heavy with the smell of grass, something that that the gray filly considered quite magnificent, and, yet, unsettling.  After all, the air that she generally breathed smelled of old paper and the melting of cheap wax.

While Silver Spoon walked, she noticed in front of her a very familiar sight: Apple Bloom, a classmate who was, most of the times, a target of her mocking.  She was pulling a stroller, likely carrying the adopted brother of whom she had talked about for about a week.

Silver Spoon almost expected that the filly with the bow was going to tell her to buck off.

But Silver Spoon was not a filly that oppressed somepony every time she had the opportunity.  On the normal day, she placed the targets of her mocking on notice.  It was her way of saying “Look, you are  inferior to me, and you should respect me. In exchange for your respect, I will help you whenever it's possible, and I will actually respect your relatives, if they deserve it. If you change, lucky you. If you don't want do do it, fine. Just keep in mind that I will tease you.”

Even if it had a very similar effect, she wasn't crude in her mocking. “I superior. You piles of dung. You no deserve respect. So your relatives.”  That would be very, very coarse, and unfair towards the ones that could not change anything and the adults of the families of the targets.

The same thing could not be said for her “friend” Diamond Tiara, who had a more oppressive way of acting towards her targets, and never stopped until her targets broke down, or turned to her side. The second result was the more likely outcome.

When someone tried to defend a pony contemptuously mocked by Silver Spoon, she was the first to stop, and leave the pony alone. Again, the same could not be said for her companion.

Since Silver Spoon did not approve of her friend's behavior, she often asked herself why she took the side of true bully of the class, instead of taking the side of the bullied ponies when she wanted to thelp them. She never gave an answer. She felt that it was destiny to be the lackey of the mean ones.

Since she already reminded Apple Bloom of her place earlier, Silver Spoon at first simply nodded her head towards Apple Bloom, and passed her by.

Until the filly with the glasses heard a squeaky voice coming from the stroller near Apple Bloom. “Ave, o dives Cochlear  Argenti! Quomodo tua vitam geris?” the voice said.

“Ave, o dives Cochlear  Argenti! Quomodo tua vita geris?” ?

“Good morning, rich Silver Spoon! How are you passing your life?”

Silver Spoon stopped dead in her tracks from the surprise. She just heard her name... in Latin! And the only instances where Silver Spoon was called  “Cochlear  Argenti” were by her father when she needed to be punished in some way (not very often; the last time was three weeks before, following the “Babs Incident”), or on bureaucratic documents.  Either way, she wasn't called that very often.

Plus, she received the FULL greeting in Latin, with the “formulaic epithet” typical of epic poetry, something that made it feel old and famous. But those were mere details. The thing that made this situation very weird was the voice, and the source of it: the greeting came from near Apple Bloom! No other ponies were at the same distance between her and the yellow filly, so the greeting had to have come from Apple Bloom. But that could not be, because Apple Bloom neither spoke nor understood Latin! It was impossible that she actually greeted her in a language unknown to her!

Silver Spoon's mind suggested walking away and forgetting everything, but soon afterward her curiosity took over. What was going on? Why she was called like that?

The filly decided to delve deeper, and find who called her by her Latin name.

First, she went to the source. The source seemed to be the stroller Apple Bloom pulled. Even if it seemed impossible, it was the only clue that she had.

The gray filly went near Apple Bloom, bowed her head a bit, and asked, “I know that it seemz weird to iou, but... Appre Broom, did iou carred me with mi Ratin name?”

Apple Bloom sighed in annoyance, rolled her eyes, and said “No, Silver Spoon. It was just my brother greeting you in his language. Don't tell me that you're also offended by this!”

Silver Spoon dropped her jaw in surprise. A foal of few months... speaking Latin... but not knowing Equestrian... in a family of farmers that confused the Tongue of Arts and Diplomacy with baby talk? It seemed impossible, and yet it happened. she witnessed a foal capable of speaking a uncommon language, but not capable of speaking the normal one, a foal raised by ponies who were less likely to know that uncommon language: the Apples, a famous family of farmers.

Apple Bloom, after a long wait, said “Well, if you are going to just stand like a statue, then my work here is done. Goodbye.” She started to go away. Only then did the filly with the glasses exit from her trance.

“Wait a minute! That phraze iz not babi tark! That iz Ratin! He knowz Ratin, but not Equeztrian at zeven monthz of life! And no one in your famiri knowz it! It'z beiond the veri reariti bondz! That zhourd be impozzibre!” she said.

“I remembered a smarter Silver Spoon, one that uses the language of bureaucracy to insult others, not a silly filly that believes the undecipherable blabbering of a foal is an actual language,” Apple Bloom said.

Then Venicio peeked his head out and said, “Litigare desinate, o puellae!” ("Stop arguing, girls !")

Silver Spoon pointed to Venicio. “Zee? He iuzt zaid that we zhourd quit arguing! IN RATIN!” she affirmed.

“Quit doing this ! I'm not dumber than my younger brother, if that's what you're trying to say!” Apple Bloom screamed to Silver Spoon:

What a horrible scene to witness. Silver Spoon, the pony that fully understood what I was saying, was arguing with Apple Bloom, who mistook the genuine surprise of the gray filly as an attempt to insult her about her origins and call her illiterate.  If she had taken the time to consider the situation, it would have been clear that Silver Spoon was speaking the truth

I really wanted to say something to stop Apple Bloom, and make her understand that Silver Spoon was right, but I could not. My only language was Latin, and only Silver Spoon could understand me at that time.

But finally I decided to try. “Malorum Tempus Florum, desina: Cochlear  Argenti sincere admiratione afficitur!” ( " Applebloom, stop: Silver Spoon's surprise is genuine !") I said

Silver Spoon pointed again to me, and said “I am not making up thiz ! And even him knowz that him shourd not know Ratin!”

Apple Bloom looked at me, sighed, and said, “Maybe you are right, maybe not. I can't trust you, and, honestly, I don't know if I really care.”

Oh, no.

This wasn't going to happen.

I was going to lose this chance.

I wished I didn't have to drop the “I am a human” card this early, but I guess this was the moment for it:

“Audite! Parvulus equus sum non: vir sum.” (" Liste to me ! I am not a foal ! I am a man !")

Silver Spoon gasped, looked me with wide eyes, and started to stutter. Then she fell down. Apple Bloom went to her, worried, and asked if she felt okay.

“Iez, I feer good:  I just met a regendary creature ztuck in the body of a foar, and he iz talking in Latin. He juzt zaid that he izn't a foar, but a human, a monzter!” the gray filly answered sarcastically.

“What are you saying, Silver Spoon? Are you drugged or something? Venicio is blabbering nonsense.  Just deal with it!”

It was clear that I had shocked Silver Spoon beyond recognition.  She was frantically talking to Apple Bloom about my true identity, adding nonsensical thing about me, my species, and the like.

Not that I blame her, since I would react like that if I were in her shoes (horseshoes?).  Simply put, Silver Spoon needed to compose herself.

After some time, it was clear that, without my intrusion, Silver Spoon would be considered just mad, and would get ignored by Apple Bloom. And if the filly with the bow was going to ignore the gray filly... then I would lose my possibility of coming back home. That could not happen.

I screamed towards Apple Bloom.  “Haec veritas est, sororem: vir sum.” ("This is the thruth, sister: I am a man)

The filly with the silver mane, its styling ruined and the hairs now coated in mud, commented on my phrase. “He iz not saying nonzense, heiz tarking! Rook, if you don't berive me, now we go to the ribrari, and rook for a ranguage book! I wirr pai iou ten bitz if I am wrong!” Then the filly put her left hoof in front of her.

Apple Bloom's eyes shone with evil pleasure, and she shaked Silver Spoon's hoof, saying “Deal!”

At this sight, I chuckled lightly. I imagined Apple Bloom's reaction, and the reaction of the other members of the Apple family, when they learned the truth of my identity: I wasn't a 7-month old foal, but a 16-year old human.

And so I was carried towards the Golden Oaks Library, where Twilight Sparkle lived.

Silver Spoon was shocked.  She actually saw a foal speaking Latin without anypony teaching him to do so... very, very impressive.

And, according to him, he wasn't a foal either. He claimed to be a legendary creature, stuck by chance in a foal's body. Even if this wasn't true, the foal had a genius way to make a “know-it-all” freak out with a single phrase.

Anyway, now she was going to the Golden Oaks Library to prove that the colt was speaking Latin, and not a made-up language, created by a foal trying to get adults to understand him.

After a rather long walk, the two fillies and the colt arrived at the door of the library. Silver Spoon coughed and opened the door, and moved straight away to the “L” section, while Apple Bloom started her research from “A”: not a wise choice, indeed.

After one hour of research, the two fillies didn't make any progress in their quest to prove wrong, or confirm, that Venicio was speaking Latin, and if he was telling the truth about his origins.

Silver Spoon sighed, and prepared to take ten bits from her piggy bank back home. She hadn't opened it in months, maybe years, and now it was going to be opened to give money to another filly over a lost bet. “It's been so long since I've touched my piggy bank, the bits inside are probably ancient coins, and I should be selling them to a coin collector instead.”

Silver Spoon chuckled lightly at her own joke, and kept looking for a book useful for her purposes.

She looked until she glanced over at two books that she had ignored before. Their names were “Comprehensive Encyclopediae of Legends” and “Ancient Language Identification for Dummies.”

She had discarded both books at first because of their size.  They were barely the size of her saddlebag.  Surely a comprehensive book would be bigger than a saddlebag!

Then the gray filly looked in them, and she felt very stupid for not realizing the obvious.  The books were small because they were written in smaller typefaces than normal.

Then the filly opened the book “Ancient Language Identification for Dummies”, looking for Latin.  It didn't take much to find the part where it was explained how to tell if something was written or spoken in Latin, an approach that would work even if the reader or listener didn't know a word of Latin.  Getting the vocabulary, however, was another story altogether.

Silver Spoon held open the book, the corner of the page she found folded over, and handled it to Apple Bloom, hoping that this would finally prove her point

7-Endgame (revisited)

I was reduced to an irritable bundle of nerves. In the library, the actions of two rival eight year olds would decide whether I would be able to return home, or be forced to stay. They were looking for a language book or for some help from the library's owner, Twilight Sparkle, who was famous for begin highly knowledgeable in pretty much every subject. And I could not see how they were doing, since I was stuck in the stroller parked outside the library.

I had nothing to do in the meantime, so I started to think about what to say to Twilight to prove my non-equine origin.

“Ave, Regina Scintilla Crepuscoli. Venicio Eiuloci sum. Iuvene Vir sum, parvulum equum non sum, et a domi exopto redire: tuum auxilio possum fidere?”

“Greetings, Princess Twilight Sparkle. I am Venicio, son of Euiloco. I am a young man, not a foal, and I want to go back home. Can I rely upon your help?”

Well, it wasn't the most appropriate introduction for royalty. First of all, I was trying to reclaim a position of power that I didn't have right there, by using the patronymic during my presentation.

Second, if I wanted to get a chance to go back home, I needed to please Twilight, and not just make my request right away. Thus, I wanted to do some pandering in the speech before making my request.

Third, I was going to talk with her as if she were a member of my peer group, by using the second person singular. Now, if I were going to speak English, that issue wasn't going to exist, since the second person plural and singular are the same. But I was going to speak in Latin, and I needed to address her with the “maiestatis plural.”

And so I reorganized my speech:

“Ave, Regina Scintilla Crepuscoli, Pannum Crepuscoli et Augente Crepuscoli filia; tertiam reginam Equestri Terram; Incuborum Lunam victrix, quod aeternam noctem cupivit; emandatrix Chai Exprimis; Ombram regem interfector, crudelem tyrannum; omnia facinora Caelesta rege, immortale dea. Venicio sum, et iuvenem virem sum, non parvulum equum. A domi exopto redire: tuos auxilio possum fidere ?”

“Greetings, Princess Twilight Sparkle, daughter of Twilight Velvet and Crescent Sparkle, (you) are the third ruler of Equestria; the victor over Nightmare Moon, who desired the everlasting night; the punisher of Chaos made flesh; killer of King Sombra, cruel tyrant; every deed done under Celestia's rule, immortal goddess. I am Venicio, and I am a young man, not a foal. I wish to go back home. Can I rely upon your help?”

Now THAT was the way to do it: refined; respectful; very brown-nosing, but still decent enough for me to maintain my dignity.

Then I started to practice said speech, in various tones, from the very respectful to the bombastic, until I found the one that seemed to fit better for the situation I was in.

When I finished my search for the words to say to Twilight Sparkle, finally the door of the library was opened again, this time by Silver Spoon.

I asked her if we were going into the library (in Latin, clearly), and, while Silver Spoon took my stroller in, answered affirmatively to my question.

When I was finally inside, an annoyed Twilight Sparkle stood in front of me. Apart from the wings, the other things that distinguished her from her past self were a golden chest plate, on which was engraved the phrase “We seek knowledge”, and four silver horseshoes.

Pretty simple but effective royal attire, I had to say.

Anyway, she spoke to us. “So, this is the foal that Silver Spoon claims to be able to speak Latin. Let's see if it's an impression, or if it's true, even though I highly doubt that he is capable of speaking such an ancient language, when he is incapable of speaking the common tongue.”

And so I spoke the entirety my speech in a polite yet determined manner. “Ave, Regina Scintilla Crepuscoli, Pannum Crepuscoli et Augente Crepuscoli filia; tertiam reginam Equestri Terram; Incuborum Lunam victrix, quod aeternam noctem cupivit; emandatrix Chai Exprimis; Ombram regem interfector, crudelem tyrannum; omnia facinora Caelesta rege, immortale dea. Venicio sum, et iuvenem virem sum, non parvulum equum. A domi exopto redire: tuos auxilio possum fidere?”

When I finished my speech, and raised my head towards the purple alicorn, I saw a shocked Twilight staring blankly at me, her jaw dropped.

“W-w-wha-t-t? Tha-a-a-at s-s-sh-hou-u-ld not be p-p-possibl-l-e!” she stuttered.

“And iet it iz!” said Silver Spoon, smirking.

“But... do you even HAVE an idea about what he is claiming right now? What he is saying? He is saying that he is a young human, but, for all I know, that means he should be in another universe!”

“I guezz ies, but... that doezen't exprain hiz prezence here in Equeztria, zince it'z said that thei lack magic and the technorogi to reach other planez of existence!”

“At least, according to my mentor, the only passage between us and the human world is a mirror deep in the Crystal Empire Palace and a randomly placed counterpart in the human world,”

Twilight said with a slightly worried voice.

Sooo... basically, the mirror that kicks off the plot of Equestria Girls dragged me to Equestria. Interesting, and quite ironic.

“The problem is, he clearly didn't travel for 1249 kilometers to arrive here, in Ponyville. Venicio lacks the resources to slip past everypony and cross the Everfree without danger.”

Silver Spoon put one of her hooves under her chin, stood for some seconds in silence, then spoke up. “Maibe the mirror doezn't send those who enter right where the entrance on the other side iz, but to a random pozition of the worrd... that wourd be interezting.”

Twilight pointed Silver Spoon, and said “That is a possibility... or maybe there are places that the mirror is more likely to transport somepony to...”

I actually stopped to listen up, because I thought I knew already what to do, now that I knew what caused my arrival. The problem was how to do it, since the mirror was, technically, a semi-state secret, one which Twilight revealed in a moment of confusion to a pair of fillies.

Since I found it rude to interrupt the purple alicorn while she raved, I just stood there, looking in the eyes of a confused Silver Spoon, and at Apple Bloom, who was lightly swearing over losing the bet, and about how she was going to communicate to her family the change in my status, from “Orphan” to “Extradimensional being”.

Not that I cared too much about it, anyway.

Returning to the topic, finally, Twilight stopped herself, and asked us to leave the library, so that she could think up a plan for me. I tried to protest the decision, but Silver Spoon told me to shut up, because everything was going to be fine.

Yes. It was going to be fine. But the fastest way for me to go back home was the mirror deep in the heart of the Crystal Empire, not some other weird way, especially since Twilight was now, basically, a co-ruler.

Hell, if Twilight proved that I wasn't a common foal, but a human, maybe 70% of the red tape would be flushed down the toilet!

But no, I needed to wait until the next day, before heading back home, and, knowing Twilight, it was likely that she was going to dot every I and cross every T.

Each.

Fucking.

One.

Porco zio.

Anyway, Apple Bloom and I returned to her house with the sun setting. The afternoon had passed fast, and, surely, it had been quite interesting.

When, finally, I entered the house, I was welcomed by a loud scream:

“APPLE BLOOM! WHERE WERE YOU FOR SO LONG?!”

Apple Bloom, afraid, had a terse response. “Horseapples.”

I guessed that Applejack was quite angry with the filly for being quite late in coming back home. I knew that, soon, her anger will turn to surprise, once she learned my true identity. It was only matter of time.

Meanwhile, unnoticed, I exited the stroller, dropped slowly to four hooves, and went to the bathroom to change myself. Now, no one was going to stop me from doing so.

Apple Bloom felt a shiver down her spine. She had been so focused on looking for books and listening to the nonsensical dissertation of Twilight, that she didn't notice the time passing, and she missed the passing of her deadline for returning home.

And, on top of having to listen to her concerned sister Applejack freaking out, Apple Bloom still needed to tell her the true origins of Venicio, which meant she would have to see him leave the family.

Apple Bloom didn't want to.

But she had to.

Sighing, the filly with a bow went to the room where Applejack was, and prepared herself for the long talk.

And so she entered in the living room. Applejack was sitting on one of the green couches, her face showing annoyance.

“So, where have you been that it took you so long to return home? You know that you must return home before sunset, not after,” the orange pony said.

“Sorry, sister, but I can explain....”

Then Apple Bloom stopped, and thought about the implications of telling the truth. If she told the truth, then Venicio would go away forever, without the possibility of seeing him again. Apple Bloom, clearly, could not follow him to his world, because she didn't felt strong enough for follow him and leave his family.

The filly was devoured by indecision, her guilt and her love towards Venicio, and a pressuring Applejack wasn't helping either.

Finally, overloaded by the pressure, Apple Bloom decided to lie about the origins of Venicio. “Well, I was at the library, looking for some information about... plumbing. Yeah, plumbing,” she said.

Applejack looked at Apple Boom sideways. “Plumbing? Really? I didn't knew that there were books about plumbing,” she said. “Could you please show me these books?”

Apple Bloom felt a cold sweat. Now, if she didn't find some books about plumbing the next morning? She was going to be royally screwed, because, aptly enough, Applejack was merciless about lies, especially ones that cover a dark scheme.

And her tale was one of them. She was trying to keep Venicio as her brother, not letting him go away from her. She felt a strong bond with him; though she only knew Venicio for three weeks, it seemed to Apple Bloom that she had known him since the day he was born.

But the filly overcame her fear of her sister's punishment, and spoke. “Well, I can show you. Just wait until tomorrow,” she said. Apple Bloom thought that, if it came down to it, she could say that every book about the subject was checked out by other ponies.

Applejack nodded, and grinned. Her grin gave the impression that Applejack knew that Apple Bloom was lying, and yet, she didn't feel necessary call her out right away. Rather, she could wait for the most opportune moment.

Apple Bloom didn't see it, though, and, sighing with relief, she trotted away towards the dining room, when she heard a scream coming from the bathroom.

“Sì! Sì! Sì! SII! Porca puttana, sì! 'Fortune rotae vulvitur' per davvero!” ( "Yes ! Yes ! Yes ! YES ! Holy shit yes ! 'Fortune rota volvitur' for real !")

Apple Bloom recognized the speech pattern, and the pitch of the voice... Venicio!

Venicio was screaming from the bathroom. Apple Bloom, panicking, ran into the room, only to find Venicio lying down in the sink, his face occupied by a huge smile that would make even Pinkie's joyous smiles pale in comparison. On the mirror above the sink, there was a little crack, and a drop of blood... Venicio got hurt for real!

Panic filled the filly's body, as Apple Bloom started to warn her family about what happened, hoping to be in time to save him... or keep him in Equestria, if he had tried to escape with a mirror, and half-succeeded.

When, finally, Apple Bloom got the attention of her older sister, she was told to see if Venicio was responsive.

When Apple Bloom returned to the bathroom, she found that Venicio was responsive, but didn't seemed in a good shape.

Finally! Freedom, at last!

And all thanks to a seemingly random mirror in the Apples' bathroom.

Basically, while I was changing my diaper and preparing to go to bed, I accidentally launched some baby power towards the sink. At first I thought it was a meaningless accident, something totally unimportant.

However, when I saw the cloud move towards the mirror, I noticed that the mirror started to light up with a blue light, and the glass started tearing apart like thin fabric on an obese person's ass.

That sight left me disturbed for a bit, then I thought back to the past days, and how I arrived in Equestria....

Blue Light....

Appearing from nowhere....

While I was doing a mundane task....

My heart filled with joy, and I screamed with every cubic millimeter of air in my lungs.

“Sì! Sì! Sì! SII! Porca puttana, sì! 'Fortune rotae vulvitur' per davvero!”

That said, I saw the distance between the changing table and the mirror: too long for me to jump... but not tall enough to be climbed!

I went down the table, took a metal stepladder, placed it under the sink, climbed the steps, and, with a lot of strain, I arrived at my goal, the sink under the mirror.

But, as soon I prepared to to jump in, some regrets formed in my mind....

What about the hospitality that the Apples gave me, the reward of the ξένια?

What about the attention that they gave me, the brotherly love that I felt for the first time in my whole life?

What about the fact that I didn't need anymore to put up a fight to reclaim my rights?

What about the fact that I was going to live a dream?

To leave them out of the blue seemed very rough for them, and, by leaving them, I was missing the possibility of restarting my whole life, but with some advantages.

I was going to give up my opportunity to go home, when my inner mind said to me, “You are making a foolish decision by staying here in Equestria. Yes, you are going to start your life over, and you will have more help when you are in need than you would ever have received from your brothers, but you will still be the young one, the member of the family that will never, ever be taken into consideration.

“And, without the endless sibling competition that you got on Earth, you will have no reason to improve yourself and prove your true worth, now that you know that your brothers won't try to control you. But it's a trap. They don't try because they think they have the divine right to control you until their death, and so there is no need to show it.

“Know that, whatever decision you make, if you are making a wrong decision you will be helped by somebody, letting you make more errors, even tragic ones, and very few good decisions.

“And, worst of all, you are tragically stuck in a body of a child, who will always be supported by parents or tutors, while you wish to be an adult, to be the breadwinner.

“If you return on Earth, you will arrive as a young adult, with the appropriate mental age, without anyone calling you 'weird' for your behaviors. You will have to fight for your position, a fight that will improve you, and make you a true man. You will have the possibility of living quite normally, and, best of all, if you return on Earth, YOU CAN RAISE A FAMILY AND PASS ON YOUR GOOD GENES SOONER.”

But my soul retorted:

“Not true. If you return on Earth, you will be again in the cycle of power grabbing that was a pillar of your life, and that will be your doom, because none of your brothers really loves you, but they want just use you as a slave. If you stay in Equestria, then you will be capable of restart from the scratch, and create your own bloodline: because it's good continue an honorable bloodline like the one of your father and of your mother, but it's even better create one.”

The response was this:

“Even you, soul, fear the total reset of time of the body, but not a reset of the mind: we both fear the regression, the return to things already done in a far past, the things done in the past and never enjoyed fully: when they are remembered, we suffer greatly. If we stay in this world, soon our reserves of sanity will be depleted, because we are terrorized by repeat the past, and for a long time, our life will be like that.”

“And so ? Who cares ? If we will finish the sanity, our madness will be seen like a quirk of a kid, and shrugged off.”

Convincing enough.

I was going to give up, and just live in Equestria, sure that a brand new life in a good environment would be very pleasuring, when I heard a otherworldly voice coming from the mirror:

“Venicio...”

I jumped a bit, and asked scared: “Who are you ?”

The shards of the mirror placed over the blue light, and shaped like a bearded face.

The shards that formed the lips moved, and caused the production of this words:

“I am the Great Ferryman, the one that moved everything between dimensions since the Big Bang. Even if it might sounds odd for you, when I saw your indecision, I took initiative, and decided to speak to you about your choice”

I looked at it confused, before saying:

“Aaand... why you stopped your work for speak to me ? I'm certain that many living things need right now to move between dimensions...”

It faked a spit, and said “Not really. I'm not much busy, so I generally speak to every wandered that uses my services. Anyway, from what I understood, you are conflicted between going home, and stay here, right ?”

“Right”

“Well, it might surprise you, but,  I usually stay around the Young King Fate”

I looked bad to the Great Ferryman, and it said:

“He is a toddler, after all, he might cause a very, very big mess, if not under the watch of somebody.

Anyway, I lately noticed that he is playing often with two dolls: a doll made of red gold, shaped like a young man, a crow endorsed on the right shoulder of the man, in the crow's beak, a lily;  he  has a crown of laurel; the other toy is a  chess piece made of stone shaped like a very muscular pony, its ears are very long and, under one of its hooves, there is a turtle.

The Fate called them both “Venicio”, and it's since two weeks that he tries to fit the doll of gold into the little statue of stone, saying that the human Venicio is trying to “Escape from his meanie brothers” and “Have a new, happy life” in the land of “Little horsies”. Just before coming to you, he said to go to the pony  Venicio, and let him go into the human world, for see how he was going to fare into the world where the human Venicio lives without pressure, by trashing the puppets of the brothers and the sister of the human Venicio, made of “ fool's gold”; with unrefined traits; covered in spikes, and with a ivory smiling masks: said masks can  be removed for show a face frowning of sorrow.

I obeyed to him and  there we are”

I was shocked: the Fate was, literally, a kid playing with toys, toys of various luxury and size, each material   was symbol of the ultimate destiny of the “toy”, the size was, I guess, for how long the memoir of the toy played with will last in the world(s).

I stood silent for five good minutes: the silence was broke by my inner mind, who said:

“So, you are telling me that it's since the start of this sham that the Fate was trying to make me fit my glorious life as a human into a bad life as a pony ? ”

“Guess so.”

“Well then, I'm happy that our host's brothers and  sister will be punished by the Fate by begin trashed away into a forgotten hellhole of the history”

Then my soul contradict what my inner mind said:

“Remember the materials of the toys: the brothers are made of fool's gold: they might seemed destined to something great, but, in reality, they worth nothing, without anything to fight for; their traits are unrefined and their bodies are full of spikes because they are always attacking somebody for obtain something, and, since their first years were mostly at home, they attacked their younger brother, namely, Venicio and we. They have smiling masks covering frowns because they appear to have happy lives, while, in truth, they are full of regrets and sorrow.

The human Venicio is made of “red gold”... but “Red Gold” means both “gold plus copper”, or just “copper”: either way, the glory will be there, but will be phoney and not very durable. And the fact that the doll has a crow with a lily in his beak means that Venicio will die quite young, since the lily it's the symbol of the premature death.

On other hand, the pony Venicio is strong, like the muscles demonstrates, and he is wise, because he has long ears, and the long ears are symbol of wisdom. He will live for long, like the turtle says, and, on top of that, he will be the first stone to a totally new bloodline, and his doings, while not remembered by everyone outside, will be remembered for a very, very long time in the family.

Now that you know what the Fate is trying to do, what's your choice, Venicio ?”

I was completely in revolt: until a minute ago, I'd never thought that I was going to stay in Equestria.

Now I was more determined than ever: not only I was going to stay with a truly caring family, and having a good life that will be remembered, but I was sending a huge “Fuck you” to the Fate too, if I remained in Equestria ! The dream of every man: answer back to the Fate, and disobey him.

Anyway, I did a “no problem” gesture to the Great Ferryman, and said that I didn't wanted to go away, and that I wanted or stay in Equestria, where a better life was waiting me: it didn't reacted well, and launched me into the physical mirror, wounding me... not that it ruined my mood: in fact, I smiled with all my few teeth for the joy, before losing awareness.

When I regained awareness, I found myself lying on a table, with Applejack on my right side looking in a worried way to a white mare that, on the moment, didn't recognized.

However, as soon she went near me, I recognized her: she was Nurse Redheart.

Great.

I was either in hospital or in ER with low-priority triage level: either way, it seemed that I was hurt.

Since I didn't felt anything, I asked to her, even if it was clear that she wasn't going to understand me:

“Renuntiatio damnorum ?” ("Damage report ?")

Nurse Redhear didn't answered to my question, and instead exclaimed

“Oh dear, what happened ?”

Applejack, lowering her head, said:

“We found him lying in the sink with some cuts over his body, and a little spot of blood over the mirror. It seemed nothing, but then my sister Applebloom saw that he was uncoscious, and so, I feared that he rammed the mirror”

Redheart glanced to me while I was carefully getting up on four hooves, then took some disifectant and bandages, cleaned my wounds from the glass shards, and covered them with the bandages.

All with Redheart's voice that, despite the late hour, was still soft, telling me to keep calm and stay still.

Not that I was going to lose my shit right there.

Anyway, after that, the white mare went for some minutes out, supposely, for call a medic, and told us that the doctor was en route: said doctor advised to take an x-ray of the head, only for notince that it was nothing of serious.

When I exited form the hospital, I sighed, and thought what awaited me, in this new life: a new world, full of mysteries, things to discover and do, and others.

Then I thought about my very current situation, and about how this would be started and ended at home: first, throw into the mirror by my older brother, then my wounds “cured” with a lit match by my sister, then and only then, carried to hospital by my very absent-minded mother.

In this case, everyone got a very big scare by seeing me wounded, and carried me right away to the hospital.

Find the three differences.

Anyway, after that tense night, my new life as adopted son of the Apple family started.

You might ask how I avoided my return by other means, thanks to my reveal earlier.

Simple.

Applebloom was VERY  unwilling into letting me go, so, no possibility to get the cover blew up by her.

Silver Spoon, after some time spent with me at the park and a small explanation of my life on Earth, decided that it was better for both keep the mouth shut about my human origins.

Twilight was the tricky one: after a week from my decision of staying (yes, I actually counted), she said that she wanted to visit Applejack for tell her “something of important”.

I already knew what was it: I wasn't a pony, but a human.

Since I knew that it meant going back home, I asked kindly to a now-understanding Applebloom, to carry me at the library, and let me speak with Twilight.

I entered on my own hooves, greeted her, and said in Latin:

“Twilight Sparkle, I already know what are you going to say tomorrow to Applejack: you are going to say that I am a man, and not a pony. Do not do it”

Twilight smiled

“And why ? You don't want to come back home ?”

“No: I prefer live here, and start again my life”

“Don't tell me that you don't have a family, nor friends, back home !”

“I have a family: my parents; my two brothers, and a sister. All older than me. And I really hate my brothers and my sister. And my friends on Earth ? After my fake funeral, they already forgot me”

The purple alicorn watched my sideways, and said:

“How you can say that about your brothers and your sister ? Even if they did something that made you mad, they are your brothers after all !”

I smirked:

“In fact, they didn't made me mad... they almost killed me ! They fought at every possible occasion for remark their power on me and the others ! They were  merciless !

But maybe you don't understand my point, since you lived in almost perfect peace with your brother Shining Armour in your foalhood.

But let's try to explain to you: imagine that in the past, before you got your cutie mark, Shining Armour kicked you in the face, and burned your books.

Imagine that he did it everyday.

Imagine that once a week, he started to beat you for petty reasons, and didn't stopped until you bite him in the nether regions or on the legs.

Imagine that your parents ignored the fights, and went in the heat only when one of the two got hurt, and so you never won a fight, and you were always left with the remains.

Imagine this happening going on until he goes to the Military Academy.

I guess that, no matter if he is your brother, now you would have sell him to Chrysalis as sex slave; let him fight alone Sombra, or, hell, kill him right off the bat once Princess !”

Twilight looked me quite horrified, and said:

“That is... awful. I'd never do the things that you listed to me at the end, but, yes, now I understand better your hate: I guess that it's better for you stay here, in a more pleasuring place, far from them.”

Smiling, I said thanks, and left.

After doing this, it seemed that I had no other important things things to do in the subsequent days, so I relaxed.

But the Fate seems a very vindictive toddler.

Five years later, when I was having a nap in my own bed in my own room, built four months before, I was woken up by a screeching sound, and a familiar voice coming from out the window... the voice said:

“Our feud hasn't ended Venicio... come back, and die fighting, or come with me, and live as my slave”

I saw that the window tore apart, and, out from the tear, a silhouette appeared... I knew who was, and so I answered:

“Brother, this is my world. You are not welcome in my world. AT. ALL. Ring your bells, soldiers: today we will fight our past, and take what is ours”

Sequel Up !

Well, that's it: the sequel of this story is ready, I need only an editor, if somebody is so gentle....

Anyway:

http://www.fimfiction.net/story/111181/live-a-life-or-forge-it

Ideas from my readers !

Good morning to all you !

After publishing the final chapter of this story, I noticed a little flood of comments of readers interested in having a sequel of this story.

Now, since I'd like to sadisfy my precious group of readers, I want to see what do you wish to see in the sequel: just throw some ideas in the comment section, and I will try to fit them in the sequel.