Ponified Without Consent

by Daemon of Decay

Rating: teen
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Apple Bloom, Spike, Comedy, Cutie Mark Crusaders, Scootaloo, Random, Human, Sweetie Belle
Length: 19997

In a world without bacon, five humans find themselves trapped... grazing on mother bucking dandelions. Friendship is magic. Too bad none of these jerks are friends.

In a world without bacon, five humans find themselves trapped... grazing on mother bucking dandelions. To get home, they'll need to learn that friendship is magic. Too bad none of these jerks are friends.

A Collaborative Story by Many Authors, Starring:
Breath of Plagues as Sweetie Belle
Derek (Daemon of Decay) as Apple Bloom
Kaidan as Scootaloo
Seven Fates as Berry Punch
TypewriterError as Prince Blueblood

Aided by Numerous Editors, Including:
Cerulean Starlight
Death the Kid
the parasprite
Rex Ivan

Published 2013-06-22 23:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-28 01:58:06 UTC

Chapter 1 - I Just Don't Know What Went Wrong

Chapter 1 - I Just Don't Know What Went Wrong

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I’ve always hated mornings. I’ve also always hated morning people. It wasn’t enough that they wouldn't let me sleep in and enjoy one of the few pleasant parts of life. No, they had to make those self-righteous comments about getting a start on the day, as if I was somehow wasting my life by savoring how comfortable my bed was. I mean, sure, I was wasting my day spending it in bed, but they should just fuck off and let me do what I want. I don’t go up to them and complain about their cheery personalities and upbeat attitudes and their successful lives. Well, not often, at any rate.

Still, that doesn’t excuse them throwing ‘carpe diem’ in my face, leaving me unable to wring the last few hours of enjoyment from the day before I’m forced to rise like a zombie and set about the tasks necessary to keep my heart beating. Mornings are the worst part of the day because they mark the end of everything that is enjoyable in life and the beginning of everything that is terrible. Everything fun – like drinking, sex, hanging out, and drinking – all take place at night, when the dark can hide our shameful activities from those judgmental assholes that seem to dominate the world. Work, exercise, chores – they all start with the rising of the sun.

Hangovers as well, something that was made abundantly clear when I tried to open my eyes and felt hot pokers being driven into my sockets. Hangovers and I were no strangers – our mutual friend alcohol being my constant companion ever since I was old enough to drive – so I was quick to act out my standard treatment for Post-Fun Trauma: go back to sleep. Which shouldn’t have been too hard. My bed was soft, warm, and particularly inviting. I felt like I was wearing a glorious velvet snuggie. I just wanted to let my normal preference for sleep take me away to the land of dreams, where the beer and vodka ran like rainwater, and everything had tits.

Fate had other ideas. One of those morning people I so despised was doing their best to drive me out of my much deserved slumber. It was hard to make out what they were saying, their voice distant and muffled, but I could still hear them practicing their yodeling. The land of beer and breasts was denied to me. Nobody ever has sympathy for people who drink, as long as you’re a functional drunk. Sometimes I wondered if it would be worth just throwing a booze-fueled fit so everyone would think I have an actual problem. I know my friends, and none of those assholes would want to stage an intervention. All I needed was to get into some angry fights, maybe soil myself in public, and they would leave me alone. At the very least, they wouldn’t be trying to wake me up on a Saturday. Can’t a guy be allowed to be lazy on his day off?

They called out again, and for the life of me it sounded like my mother was trying to wake me up for school. My body went into automatic mode, and I almost mumbled back “just five more minutes” before I caught myself. What the hell – why would my mother be trying to wake me up? I haven’t lived with my parents since high school. Hearing the obviously female voice call out a little louder was enough to force my bleary, tear-filled eyes to reopen and face the harsh light of the rising sun. I had two possibilities. One: that I had somehow gotten so plastered that I had ended up back at my folks’ house. Two: that I had hooked up with someone last night who was making breakfast or some shit, and I couldn’t even remember their name, or what they looked like. Oh god, what if she’s a fatty? I mean, I’m not the best looking guy in the world, but I have standards. Fairly low standards, I’ll be the first to admit, but Derek don’t ride cattle, if you catch my drift.

Trying my best to clear my vision and make sense of my surroundings, I made a move to get out of bed. My arms felt odd and didn’t move like I intended them to. Considering how often I ended up black-out drunk, a little physical discomfort was never unexpected. Still, I didn’t feel right. It was hard to describe: I felt smaller than normal, if that makes any sense – as if my body was squished into a more compact ball. Another burst of fear went through me as I suddenly realized I may have been the plaything for Ms. King Kong. Could sex with a fatty cause physical damage? Is that why I couldn’t feel my fingers?

I made my way through the sea of blankets towards the edge of my bed, a little more desperate to get up. I wasn’t going to leave a stranger awake in my apartment. I didn’t care if she was the sweetest girl ever with a heart of gold; fat people are as liable to steal what little I have as anyone else. Plus, I wanted to be on my feet in case she came back and was feeling a little amorous. I have a red blanket in my closet, and I’ve seen how matadors can use them to fend off larger animals. Sure, most of my knowledge of bullfighting is as blurry as the rest of my time in Spain, but it was something to focus on – a need that became much more driving once I heard the creak of something large making its way up the stairs.

“Hun, are you okay?” the she-beast called out as she made her way closer to the door, the deep drawl of her southern accent like nails on a chalkboard. It sounded vaguely familiar, but that wasn’t saying much – having spent most of my life in east and central Texas, I had grown used to how the backwood yokels spoke. My eyes widened in alarm. Oh god, I didn’t just bang a big girl – I ended up tagging a trailer-trash tubby! My legs kicked with more determination. I wasn’t just fighting to protect myself now: I was fighting to protect what little of my social image was still intact. If one of my friends showed up and found some redneck land-whale in my apartment, I would never live it down.

“Sugar, it’s time to get up,” she said from just outside my door, and my heart lept into my throat. I was right at the edge of the bed. My legs were beginning to respond, but I needed to stall her.

As I swung my legs out over the edge of the bed I finally managed to speak. “Ahm fine, ahm... what the fuck happened t’ mah voice?” The shock at hearing how squeaky I sounded to my hungover ears was only dwarfed by how country my voice was. It was enough to freeze me solid as my brain struggled to fight its way through the layer of booze still untouched by my poor liver. Going rigid in shock was an understandable response to suddenly finding yourself sounding like a prepubescent little farm girl whose family tree didn’t have too many branches.

The problem was timing. A girlish shriek escaped my lips as I tumbled out of a bed that seemed far too high. Whatever meat-mountain I had slept with last night heard the impact of Derek meeting floor, and was worried enough that she burst in through the door just in time to watch me bounce face-first off the wooden planks. Whatever she said to me was lost beneath the burst of raw pain that shot through by body.

Head injuries are never something to be taken lightly, even on the best of days. When you combine a blow to the head with your standard “I can’t remember last night” hangover, you end up with a concoction cruel enough to make suicide an attractive option. I had a headache powerful enough to break sheetrock with. With my ears ringing and my skull throbbing, I did my best to roll over onto my back. Everything was blurry, swimming in and out of focus like the bartender on a good night out. My nose was wet; I smelled copper. A large, orange shape pushed its way into my inverted field of vision, calling out to me again, her words sounding like they were echoing down a long metal tube. Staring up at her I finally managed to respond to her incoherent mumbling. “Please... don’t step on me.”

“What?”

Evidently, my change in tone was enough to startle her as well. Or maybe I had offended her? I didn’t care: all I could think about was the huge orange horse-faced monstrosity above me crushing me beneath her flabby bulk. I may be into a lot of kinky shit, but that ain’t one of them.

It was at that moment that one of the details of my guest finally resolved itself: her horse face. As I blinked away more of the tears, my mind was finally able to process the fact that she was not just ugly – she had a literal horse’s face. As in a muzzle, pointed ears, and a mane.

And a hat.

My body froze yet again as more information slowly penetrated my thick skull. Recognition teased my senses as I finally realized that the female above me wasn’t orange because of some terribly cheap spray-on tan, but was honest to god orange colored. She wasn’t as fat as I had feared, either; it had just looked like that from my inverted view, when instead she had four legs. Four legs that ended in hooves.

I don’t consider myself an idiot. I’m a damn sight smarter than nearly everyone else I have to put up with. But I’m not ashamed at how long it took my brain to connect the dots. It was obvious in retrospect, of course, but in retrospect I’m not dealing with a hangover, headache, bloody nose, and my senses trying to tell me that there is an orange horse in my room – wearing a hat.

Indeed, I consider it a mark of pride that I was able to handle that revelation with such dignity and self-control.

I believe my exact words were “Holy fuckin’ shit, there’s a horse in mah room!” I tried to escape from the huge beast, an act of self-preservation made all the more difficult by my stumpy, non-responsive limbs. I couldn’t feel my fingers as I rolled over and tried to backpedal away from the brightly-colored animal, my legs kicking to find purchase on the rough wooden floor. It wasn’t like I had anywhere to go: I was stuck between the wall and the bed, and the horse was blocking my only exit. I just knew I had to put some distance between us, to get some space, to do anything to protect myself.

That mindless fear only increased when the horse took a few steps closer, my sudden claustrophobia becoming a consuming icy claw squeezing my chest until I couldn’t breathe. My back was pressed up firmly against the wall, trapped in a canyon with some mindless animal drawing closer. I felt like crying, or pissing myself, or both. I didn’t want to die. I was going to die. Oh god, I was going to die!

The horse was staring at me with a look of concern in its freakishly oversized eyes. “Apple Bloom, what in tarnation has gotten into you?”

Those words made everything finally click for me. For the third time that morning – it was starting to become a recurring theme in my life – my entire body froze up as recognition dawned. It was so impossible, so insane, that my mind kept rejecting it out of hand. Sure, I might be a boozy man-child who liked children’s cartoons, but this... no. No! I wasn’t going to accept it.

The horse drew closer, her look of familial concern only deepening my resolve to reject what I was seeing. “Apple Bloom, come on now, you’re scarin’ me. What’s the matter? Did you have a bad dream?”

I was staring at a character from a cartoon show, and I was not going to accept it without a fight. “Go away,” I squeaked, closing my eyes firmly shut as I rejected what my senses were telling me.

The horse paused. “What?”

“Ah said, go away. You’re not real.”

Another pause. “What?”

“Ah said, you ain’t real. This... this is not real. This is just some kind of alcohol-fueled dream. Maybe ah came back home a-and put on an episode and passed out drunk on th’ couch. Ahm still asleep, and this is just some inner fantasy trying to play out in my mind.”

A third pause, this one even longer than the others. “Apple Bloom, what in tarnation are you talkin’ about?”

“You’re not Applejack! That’s impossible!” I shouted back with as much conviction as I could muster, doing my best to sound resolute and strong, but only sounding weak and frightened, even to my ears. “This is... just some drunk Brony fantasy, wakin’ up in Equestria!”

The non-Applejack drew closer, and I flinched when she put a hand – hoof – on my shoulder. “Okay, you need to calm down now, sis. You just had some sorta weird dream–”

“That’s what ahm sayin’!” I interrupted like a petulant child, finally opening my eyes. “This is all some sorta dream! You can’t be real!” Staring up into the non-Applejack’s big green eyes, I felt my angry defiance melting away beneath the concern I saw there. My senses were betraying me. I could see her, hear her, and feel her. Hell, I could even smell her – although it was hard to discern, considering how overwhelmingly noxious the scent of apples was.

“The dream is over now, Apple Bloom,” she said, the large mare towering over me. Part of me was obviously curious about the size difference – I had always assumed that even full grown mares wouldn’t be that much bigger than humans. As I thought about it, it wasn’t too frightening a situation. After all, what sort of Brony hasn’t fantasized about the cliche “human in Equestria” setup? I guess my shock had more to do with the sheer vividness of the dream. My heartbeat began to drop to normal levels, and I couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm settle over me at her kind words and friendly, downright loving demeanor. I held back a sniffle.

Which is when the other shoe dropped. “A-Apple Bloom...?” I whispered as I tilted my head downwards to look at myself. It suddenly made sense: my awkward physical movements, why I couldn’t feel my fingers, why I sounded like some inbred redneck, why Applejack was towering over me, and why she kept calling me by her sister’s name. I stared down at my creamy yellow body in abject horror. I held up my arms before my face. My hands were gone. My hands were gone. I blinked. Slowly, with a whimper of protest, I glanced past my malformed arms and checked between my legs. I think Applejack screamed something right before my eyes rolled back up into my head and everything went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Rarity stood holding a bar of soap with her magic and glaring down at her sister. She had been sat upright next to the sink in one of the upstairs bathrooms at the Carousel boutique. I had my arms—sorry, still not used to it—useless marshmallow nubs, crossed over my chest with a defiant scowl. To be fair, it really hadn’t been my day so far. It’s not everyday that you wake up as a squishy little mush ball with a squeaky voice, but it could be worse. I mean, I could be in hell getting my flesh peeled off in strips then fried and served back to me. That would be much worse...

Maybe.

“Open up,” Rarity said.

“How ‘bout you go to Hell, you prissy little fuc—” Before I could finish my expertly crafted retort, she had taken advantage of my open mouth and had wedged a large bar of soap in between my teeth.

You know what? On second thought, I might enjoy my flesh bacon more than this. I don’t know if you’ve ever had full blown soap bars in your mouth, but it’s probably the second worst thing I’ve ever tasted, first place being glow stick fluid. What? I wanted to see if my tongue glowed. It totally did. Where was I...? Ah yes, searing my taste buds, of course. How could I forget?

If I’m being fair though, I totally deserved it. You see, anyone who’s known me makes certain compensations, particularly for my creative mouth. When I woke up this morning as a cotton candy haired filly, I felt entitled to some self expression of the frustrated kind. That’s not too much to ask, is it? Well, Rarity didn’t think so, but then again she didn’t know that I wasn’t her sister at all. What did I say again? Something about a lecherous pig whore and Luna’s nipples, I think. Anyhow, it was a pretty special morning...

I had found myself staring at two giant marshmallow limbs held right in front of my face at what I can assume to be eight in the morning. I was only thirsty, and when your hands suddenly don’t feel like they’re there when you reach for a glass of water, it confuses your poor, half awake mind quite a bit. I held my hooves in front of me, watching as they kept completely still while I tried moving my fingers.

“Dear god, if Jeremy slipped me some shit, I am either going to have to ask where he got it or deck him in the face,” I mumbled to myself as I looked around. “Depends how this trip goes.”

Sweetie Belle's room was probably what one would expect. It was a moderately small space with a vanity lying across the room from the bed and a large, rectangular window set to the right which let the morning light seep in. There was what looked like the door to a walk-in closet to my left, and the walls were painted pink. Pretty tame and comfortable, minus the pink. That kinda grated on me a little but I can’t really complain when I considered my bed spanned multiple body lengths for me.

The door creaked open, immediately grabbing my attention just as Rarity walked in with a big smile on her face. It was pretty weird experiencing everything with such uncanny vividness.

“Hello, Sweetie darling, I just wanted to see how you were feel...” Rarity paused as she noticed my wide eyed, frozen stare. “Um, are you alright, dear?”

“Still not sure what to think I suppose...” I said in an airy voice.

Rarity moved over to the window, still eyeing me as she went, and opened the curtains before turning back to me with a concerned look. “Well, how is the magic feeling today? I know those first few days can be a little weird.”

“Mm hm,” I mumbled. Getting over seeing a real life My Little Pony character right in front of me was actually proving quite the challenge. No matter how I looked at it, it all just seemed way too real to be some sort of amped up LSD trip. I had plenty of druggie friends, sure, but I never did any of it, so why would this be happening?

Rarity moved to the side of my bed and propped herself up next to me. “Sweetie Belle, are you okay? I was just wondering how the magic development was going? You’re not ill are you?” Rarity said.

I lowered my brow. “Magic development? What are you talking about?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought Twilight talked to you about this. You’re going through some changes that are going to make you feel a little uncomfortable.”

I was frozen in place with my eyes shot wide and mouth hanging open. There’s no fucking way... she didn’t mean...

“I remember when I went through it as a filly.” Rarity gave a light giggle. “My magic was quite unstable and I really was nervous when I noticed—”

“Nope!” I shoved my hooves up over my ears. “Nope nope nope nope nope. Don’t need to hear it.”

Rarity glowered at me. “Sweetie Belle, this is important!” she said, speaking loud enough for her voice to penetrate. “Your magic is going to fluctuate a lot while you go through a lot of these developments and you need to stay calm.”

I think I’m going to cry right now. I am worst pony stuck with other worst pony, talking about girl pony puberty, which I’m apparently going through. I think I just died a little on the inside just now. Here, let me check my pulse. Yup, that part’s gone. Bye bye, woo see ya. Hope you enjoyed your time here with me. May the black souls of undeath have pity, for yours was my better half cast away by the cruelest of circumstances. To add to all of this, my horn even started to tickle and hurt for some reason.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “You know what?” I moved my hooves off my head as slow as possible. “Rarity, would you do me a favor?”

“Anything for my wittle sis,” she said nuzzling my cheek.

I stiffened up as her nose rubbed against me. “Fucking kill me, please.”

Rarity jolted back. “What?”

“No seriously,” I said with a complete straight face. “I don’t even care anymore. Splatter my guts as best you can.”

Rarity looked at me with her head turned to the side. “Sweetie, this is uncharacteristic of you.” She closed her eyes and shrugged before smiling. “Well, if it’ll make you feel better.”

My eyes shot wide open. “What? Really? Rarity, I was just being an ass. I didn’t think you would really—”

Before I could finish my sentence Rarity had wrapped her hooves around me and pulled me close to her chest, snuggling against my fur.

What the...?

“Rarity...what are you doing?”

My ‘sister’ backed away and looked at me with her bright purple eyes. “I’m doing exactly what you asked, dear,” she said with a loving smile.

I gave her a bemused look. “I told you to kill me.”

“Right.” She ruffled my mane with an outstretched hoof. “You told me to hug you.”

What the fuuuuuuuh?! I started to feel my heart race a little. How could she not hear what I was saying! It was clear as day. Don’t tell me the show is...

“Rarity!” I exclaimed, getting to my feet. “I want you to die!”

She quirked a brow at me. “Sweetie Belle, I can’t fly. I’m a unicorn.”

Shiiiiii... I have to try something else! “Punch me in the face,” I said.

Rarity reached out and touched my snout. “Why did you want me to touch your face now?” she said.

I felt my eye twitch and I shoved her hoof away. “I want a plague to decimate every last denizen of Equestria and watch as the vultures pick apart the flesh of the mutilated corpses one by one until there is nothing left but the scattered bones of the dead lying across the scarred and barren earth.”

Rarity giggled. “Well, I’m hoping for good weather too, but Rainbow Dash says we have to have rain at least a few times a week,” she answered.

“I-I-I...” I stood there, stalk still, stuttering incoherently as it all sunk in. There was no way it could be true, but it was staring me right in the face in the form of a blissfully ignorant unicorn.

The show was censoring me.

Now, allow me to explain. I’m a pretty different individual. I’m not evil or some serial killer or anything, but since as far back as I can remember I’ve just had this thing for action, violence, gore, and adrenaline. You see, I’m fairly convinced that when life was rolling my character stats for morality and taste, it must have gotten a critical fail on its d1000. Again, I’m not morbid or depressed or anything. I’m just twisted as hell—but I think it’s all pretty damn hilarious. For a guy like me, adding ‘My Little Pony’ to the list of things I love alongside general, grim debauchery was the last thing I was expecting, but that’s how it happened. Never let it be said that I’m dishonest. But I digress. The point of all of this is that I kind of have the need to express that itch when it occurs. That bloodlust needs to get out in some form or it just sits under the surface and pressurizes. So now I was not only stuck in Equestria as one of the fucking Cutie Mark Annoyances, but I couldn’t even abuse it by being myself. I think another part of me died just now. There he goes. Enjoy yourself in hell. Another to fuel the flames.

Rarity’s eyes turned up and eyed my forehead. “Oh dear.” She bit her lip and took a few steps back. “Darling, I know these changes may be a lot to take in but you have to be careful. Your magic reserves are going to be quite a bit more than you can handle right now.”

Oh! Well that’s just fucking great! I’m on an acid trip to Equestria as marshmallow butt and I’m going through magic mood swings, and I probably can’t do anything fun!

“Rarity,” I started.

“Yes?”

“So, what you’re saying is—” I put a hoof up. “Right now, I’m stuck here in Equestria—”

“Well, that’s an odd way of putting it, but yes. I don’t imagine you’ll be leaving soon.”

“—as fucking Sweetie Belle.”

“Yes? I’m afraid I don’t follow, and why did you refer to yourself in third person as ‘loving Sweetie Bell’?”

I was starting to feel brutally dizzy, and my head was really starting to hurt. “And worst of all, I’m censored.”

Rarity gulped, seeming fixated on something above my head. “Sweetie, please calm down dear.”

“And goddammit, my head hurts! Apparently I’m allowed to feel pain, but I’m pretty sure I can’t do anything fun here. Dammit, what I would give for a fist fight.”

Rarity backed even further away. “Remember your breathing exercises! You need to settle down.”

“I swear I could just explo—” Just then, I noticed a purple spark pop across the room. “What the...” I turned my eyes up and gasped. Magic sparks were pouring out of my horn like an overloading transformer, steadily increasing in speed and frequency as an ominous light increased at the epicenter. My pupils shrank to small dots and my mouth went slack. “Oh, God...”

Outside, a grey pegasus with bubble cutie marks had just finished with her daily mail route and was on her way to Sugarcube Corner. She whistled and giggled as she flew, taking her time to glide from side to side and enjoy the rest of her day.

“Hey, Derpy!”

Derpy stopped mid flight and turned to see Rainbow Dash flying to catch up to her. “Hey, Dash. How’s it goin’,” Derpy said with her usual carefree and happy demeanor.

Dash smiled back. “I’m doing ok. I actually wanted to ask how the latest repairs are going for Flitter and Cloudchasers’s home.” Her expression turned to concern. “You really need to learn to be more careful Derpy.”

Derpy rubbed her forearm and looked to the side. “Well I try, but sometimes stuff just happens and you can’t really help it, Dash. Everyone has accidents—I just don’t know what goes wrong,” Derpy said, giving a final shrug before looking back at Dash.

Dash crossed her hooves and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, look, it’s not that hard. Nopony has luck bad enough to destroy a house. C’mon.” Dash hovered and landed on top of the Carousel Boutique with a clop of her hooves. “See?” she said, puffing out her chest. “No problem.”

The windows of the boutique exploded with a thunderous boom, shaking the surrounding area and sending fine glass pieces sailing away over the rooftops. Rainbow Dash gasped and stumbled as the force of the blast sent her sprawling. “Oh my gosh! What the heck was—” She looked up to see Derpy giving her a stern look, her arms crossed.

“See what I told you,” Derpy said.

“What!?” Dash’s eyes shot open as she jolted into the air. “Are you kidding? That wasn’t me!” Derpy slowly blinked as she hovered in midair, her mismatched eyes silent and judging. “Derpy, I—”

“What happened?” Both mares glanced down to see Berry Punch, with a shocked expression on her face as she stared at the broken windows of the Carousel Boutique.

“Dash blew out the windows,” Derpy said.

Dash snapped back to the other pegasus. “What? Derpy! No, I just—”

“Dash, what the heck? What were you doing?” Berry Punch said with narrowed eyes.

“I—no—it just,” Dash stammered as she gestured back and forth between herself, Derpy, and the blown out building.

Big Mac walked up to the scene, evidently attracted by the commotion and glanced at the shattered glass then to Berry Punch.

“Rainbow Dash shattered the windows and doesn’t seem to want to admit it,” Berry Punch said with a shrug.

“I did not!” Dash yelled with an echo from up in the sky, her lip pouting and arms crossed.

Big Mac nodded. “Eeyup.” Rainbow Dash’s mouth dropped.

Carrot Top joined the trio on the ground with the same curiosity the others had started with. “Wha—?”

“It was Rainbow Dash,” Derpy said, still hovering a few feet over the roof buildings with a look of disapproval. She tsk’d and moved her head back and forth. “I warned you, Dash, but you didn’t listen.”

Rainbow Dash snapped back and forth between the gathering crowd and Derpy. “Hey! No! That’s not how it happened,” she said defensively.

Carrot Top stomped her hoof. “Seriously, Dash? Be more careful!”

Rainbow Dash threw her hooves up into the air. “This is ridiculous!” She zoomed down, landing right in front of a growing crowd with a glare. “I don’t know how it happened! It just did, okay?”

Derpy descended next to Dash with a sagely look. “So what you mean to say is: you just don’t know what went wrong?”

One of Dash’s eyes twitched.

Chapter 2 - Even the Soap Tastes Like Apples

Chapter 2 - Even the Soap Tastes Like Apples

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I must not have been out for very long. I came to with Applejack’s worried muzzle pressed close enough to mine that I had to wonder if my dreams had taken a turn for the better. “Apple Bloom, are you alright?” she demanded as she gripped my shoulders, her frightened voice snapping me out of my dirty pony fantasies. That was right – I’m supposed to be a horse now.

“Now now, sugarplum, everythin’ is going to be just fine.” Despite my assumptions to the contrary, Applejack’s calm words and loving tone had a positive effect on my fragile state of mind. She pulled me into a warm hug and nuzzled my cheeks, which made me tingle and smile in ways that were embarrassing to admit as a twenty-six year old man, but didn’t seem out of place for a little prepubescent mare.

Still, it wasn’t that much help, all things considered. I was trapped in the small, feeble body of a redneck pony with a speech impediment. It wasn’t bad enough that whatever had sent me here had stripped me of my humanity – it had stripped me of my masculinity as well. No amount of strangely comforting hugs was going to make that any more tolerable.

Especially when everything still smelled of fucking apples! Jesus Christ, it’s like they bathed in the stuff. The scent poured off of Applejack’s mane in waves, almost enough to make me gag. I pushed back against the older mare, trying to put some room between us.

“Okay, fine! Just please, git off me!” I gasped, desperate to fill my lungs with air not tainted with the nauseating aroma of fruit.

She must have mistaken my desire for fresh air for the protests of a child uncomfortable with familial affection. Taking a few steps back she grinned down at me. “You had me scared there, Apple Bloom. Are you feelin’ better?”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” I grumbled as I attempted to stand. It wasn’t really a lie – I didn’t feel like I was about to pass out again, although my headache was back in full pulsating glory – but the less I argued with her, the better. I needed to find a way out of here – fast. And my first choice of just sleeping until things stopped bothering me wasn’t going to work. Rising on my unsteady feet... hooves... whatever, I glanced up at Applejack. “So, uh, what are we supposed to do now?”

She gave me another appraising look. “Well, as long as you’re sure you’re okay, we’re gonna go have breakfast.”

My stomach rumbled at the mentioning of food. A good greasy meal usually did wonders for my hangovers – or at least, that’s the excuse I gave myself whenever I went to go pig out on fast food. “That sounds fine. Just please tell me that bacon’s on the menu.”

Applejack blinked. “What’s bacon?”

I groaned. That’s right; they’re a bunch of hippy vegetarians. “Nothin’. It’s... nothin’. Just show me to the bathroom, ’cause ah have t’ piss like a racehorse,” I stated as I clumsily made my way forward, my eyes locked firmly on each hoof as I tried to walk. Still, no point in getting them too worked up now. I might still need their help. I could have my fun telling them how to make sausages after I found out what I’d need to get home.

My unsteady steps were interrupted when my head smacked into Applejack’s chest. I glanced up to tell her off for getting in my way, but I wilted beneath her furious glare. “Apple Bloom!” she declared, sounding impossibly maternal to my young – and disgustingly flexible – ears, which involuntarily flattened against my head. I took a step back, my eyes widened in alarm.

“I... uh...”

“We do not use such language in this house, missy!”

I blinked. “What, piss?” Her eyes narrowed, and I winced. “Uh, ah mean, sure, ah won’t say it again.” She continued to stare expectantly at me. “What?”

“And what do we say when we say something naughty?” she prompted me, reminding me too much of my mother for comfort’s sake.

“Uh...” I glanced around. “Ahm... sorry?”

She nodded, her anger evaporating. “Good girl. Now, ah know you had a bit of a bad dream, but ah think it’s best if you get washed up before breakfast. A good hearty meal will get you feelin’ right as rain.”

I couldn’t argue with that – I really did have to take a piss. What’s that old joke: you don’t buy beer, you only rent it? Either way, I slowly made my way after the larger horse, more than a little surprised at how easily I was handling the whole ‘walk on four legs’ routine. It was coming quite naturally to me, which was a relief. I really didn’t want to have to spend my first day in Equestria falling flat on my face.

I rubbed my sore and bloody nose. Well, falling flat on my face again, at any rate.

Once out in the hallway Applejack turned to head down the stairs, flashing me a reassuring smile before descending. “Wait!” I called out. Something of my desperation must have come through as she jerked her head back to give me a worried look. “What? What’s wrong?”

I gestured at all the other doors around me. “Where’s the bathroom?” Her eyes narrowed. With a soft huff she turned back and vanished from sight again. “Fine, be a bitch,” I grumbled beneath my breath, turning to look at the other doors around me. Being a small child made them look positively intimidating, although I was at least old enough to reach the door handles on my own. Well, there wasn’t anything else I could do but try each of them.

The less I say about going to the bathroom as a mare, the better. Most of my life has been a series of terrible fates befalling an innocent man, so I shouldn’t have been surprised by the latest attempt to ruin what little life I had, but being forced to do my business not only as a girl, but as a horse, was the crowning moment of crap. It had lots of competition too: forgetting my first sexual experience’s name; being too fat to fit in a costume for a play right before going onstage; trying to pass my finals while stuck in an apartment with no internet or power; the list is near endless.

Fate is a cruel mistress, and I am her much abused gimp.

After managing to take care of my needs with a modicum of my dignity intact, I left the bathroom in a foul mood. Still, the time spent alone trying not to think about what I was doing had given me a chance to ponder the strange situation I found myself in. Most Bronies would have been shitting themselves in excitement if they had woken wearing a pony like a living suit.

I am not most Bronies.

Sure, I love the show, but I never spent much time fantasizing about what it would be like to live in Equestria. Especially not stuck in the body of a pint-sized mongoloid like Apple Bloom. Once I had found the bathroom, I had spent five minutes doing nothing but staring at myself in the mirror, examining my new form, and it had left me repulsed. Sure, Apple Bloom was cute – but cuteness is best approached from a distance, where you are free to d’aww at will. I didn’t get to enjoy looking at a cute filly; instead, I was stuck in the body of a tiny little short-limbed redneck pony who couldn’t say ‘Siamese’ without offending someone.

Being a pony is like being around young children. When they’re someone else's kids, you get to enjoy the adorable little shit-stains and their pointless frolicking, but you don’t have to put up with cleaning diapers or listening to them scream nine hours out of ten. Anyone who was watching me got to see a cute adorable little Apple Bloom; I was stuck with the short legs and lack of opposable thumbs. In fact, parents had it better, because at least they got to fuck someone once before they had their life turned to shit. I got nothing but a hangover and a bloody nose.

My life sucks, pony or not, but my current predicament only increased the suckage to levels previously unrecorded by man. Just about the only thing that has ever really made it more palatable was booze, and the odds of a young foal finding alcohol in Equestria was remote at best.

“God, ah could use a drink,” I told the disgruntled looking Apple Bloom in the mirror. I nodded in agreement before turning to leave. Part of me wanted to try and look on the bright side of things.

“It could be worse,” it said, desperate to turn my frown into a smile. “Sure, it might just be a dream, but then, why not enjoy it while you can? You can do all that fun stuff they always show in the... show. Like, why not go crusadin’ for a cutie mark? Or go to Sugarcube Corner and get Pinkie Pie to throw you a party? The sky’s the limit, Derek. Carpe diem; go out there and seize the day!”

At which point I throttled my optimism and beat him to death with my own burning hate.

Breakfast in the Apple family was a trial in itself. Knowing the show and its penchant for cliches and obvious jokes, I was prepared for a meal centered around that most obvious of fruits, the humble apple. What I wasn’t expecting was a meal consisting only of apples. Apple pies, apple flakes, apple crumbles, apple crisps, apple juice, and even – I shit you not – a salt-shaker like device filled with small bits of dried apples.

I’ll be the first to admit that I actually like apples. Apple pie is the best pie there is, bar none; you lemon meringue assholes don’t know what a real dessert should be! But even living on the diet of a proud bachelor – 50% beef jerky, 50% stale beer – I still expect some kind of variety in what I eat. Instead, I was presented with an explosion of apple-related foods that made my stomach grumble in protest.

“Come on, Apple Bloom,” said Applejack, gesturing at the table’s open seat. “Breakfast is gettin’ cold.”

“What a shame...” I grumbled as I stared up at my chair, trying to work out the mechanics of how, exactly, I was supposed to get up into a chair designed for people. Which was one of my biggest complaints about the show – everything being designed with humans in mind. It made sense for a cartoon, so everything was easily recognizable for their target demographic of ‘small children and retards’, but it didn’t make an ounce of sense in real life. And don’t get me started on doorknobs! The idea of all non-unicorns being forced to open doors with their mouths was so ri-god-damn-diculous that it honestly made me angry. Nothing like watching patients and doctors slobbering over the same doorknobs to make you wonder how ponykind didn’t perish at the hands of simple disease a long time ago.

“Apple Bloom, do you need any help?”

“No. Ah got this,” I retorted as I prepared myself for a jump. Like hell I was going to let my ego suffer any more at the hands of some multi-colored magical ponies. Shaking my rear a little bit to improve my aim, I made a blind leap of faith. The impact of my belly on the hard wooden chair was enough to knock the wind out of me, but my wildly flailing legs found purchase and I managed to pull myself up into the seat. “Ha!” I declared, giving the other ponies a victorious smirk.

Granny Smith evidently didn’t hear me, lost as she was in another impromptu nap, while Big Mac and Applejack just stared back at me. They tried to hide their amusement as they glanced at each other, which quickly soured my sense of success. “Yeah, well, ah can’t be amazin’ all the time,” I snapped as I eyed the food laid out on the table.

“Bloom had a nightmare and hit her head,” Applejack explained when Big Mac gave me an odd look. I ignored them as I tried to figure out which of the apple-related foods I could most stomach. I really couldn’t care less if they thought I was acting odd from a dream, or from head trauma. I didn’t plan on being here any longer than I had to. Deciding to settle on something that looked like a breakfast cereal, I poured myself a bowl and splashed milk all over the mix. I created a big milky mess, which Applejack told me off for, but I ignored her – something I planned on doing a lot of.

After getting over the surprise of being able to hold a spoon with a hoof – I couldn’t explain the mechanics of it if I tried – I took a big heaping spoonful and shoved it into my mouth. I chomped and crunched my way through the mess, letting out a groan when I finally made sense of the taste. Dried apple flakes – I figured as much.

I got another telling off for my rude behavior, but I ignored it as well, doing my best to polish off my bowl. It wasn’t that it was bad tasting – they were pretty good, for what they were – or that I was that hungry. But I know my body, and the best thing I can do for a hangover is feed my gut something. And the sooner I finished my meal, the sooner I could escape hillbilly hell. Apple Bloom might not be worst pony, but she was damned close. Hopefully I could find something remotely entertaining to do for the day. Well, as long as I avoided that other group of Down’s Syndrome dumbasses Apple Bloom routinely hung out with. If I were to milk any enjoyment out of my (hopefully brief) time in Equestria, I was going to have to avoid those two like the plague.

As I finished my breakfast, I was actually starting to look forward to the day – wondering where that mare Berry Punch was hanging out and hoping I could score some hooch from her – when fate once again reared its ugly head and decided to crush my fleeting moment of happiness. “So, Apple Bloom,” my ‘sister’ began, her artificially calm and level tone setting off alarm bells in my head, “ah was thinking that, since you had a rough start to the day ‘n all, why don’t you just go on and have a little fun while me an’ Mac take care of your chores?”

I nodded. “Sounds good t’ me,” I replied. It wasn’t like I was going to lift a fucking finger for these inbreds anyway, but now at least my laziness would be officially sanctioned. The less yelling at I had to put up with, the better.

“But since you’re feeling kinda down, ah was thinkin’ that perhaps you should head on over to go see your friends Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. You know, spend some time with your friends and take it easy, see if that don’t help you get back to bein’ yourself.”

And with those two sentences, my dreams of being left in glorious solitude were banished instantly. “Well, shit.”

“What did you just say?” Applejack exploded, her sudden outburst enough to wake Granny Smith out of her near-death catatonia. Even the normally stoic Big Mac was glaring at me, a look of intense displeasure etched into his features. In an instant I felt three inches tall.

“I, uh, um, uh...” My mouth worked uselessly as I tried to come up with some sort of excuse, but my glorious brain betrayed me. Part of me wondered why I was so upset about what I had said: what did I care what these ponies thought of my vocabulary? They’re fucking horses.

I smacked that part upside the head as I watched with naked fear as Applejack came stomping around the table with a look of grim reproach. Too late, my legs sprung to life, desperate to put some distance between me and the avatar of familial disapproval, but I was helpless as Applejack roughly yanked me out of my chair and pulled me to another bathroom by my fucking ear.

I’ve always prided myself on the ability to swear like a sailor and make a marine blush, and let me tell you; I think what I said then was hot enough to melt steel. Equestria had never known its like, before or since. I’m surprised the cartoon horses didn’t combust beneath its terrible onslaught. My litany of curses and expletives was only silenced when the furious Applejack roughly shoved a bar of soap into my mouth, a fate I had not suffered in two decades.

And the soap tasted like fucking apples.

Still, despite the shame of being treated like a little child and being at the mercy of rednecks less intelligent than my missing testicles, I managed to keep my cool and hold onto my masculinity. It probably didn’t help my case that I continued to swear at her throughout the proceedings which, in retrospect, only prolonged my suffering. Still, I stayed strong. After five minutes of sputtering and crying and begging for forgiveness and trying my hardest not to gag or vomit, Applejack finally gave in to the inevitable and removed the soap, allowing me to attack the faucet. Once I had finally managed to get the last of the harsh taste out of my mouth, she ushered me out of the bathroom.

“Now, ah know that was rough, but it hurt me as much as it hurt you,” she told me firmly, a hint of the love she felt for her sister leaking past her attempt to sound maternal. “But you’re not supposed to say things like that, Apple Bloom. You know that. Just because you had a bad dream don’t mean we can tolerate that kinda filth comin’ outa your mouth, you hear?”

I sniffled and hiccuped something that sounded vaguely like an agreement, staring at the floor and wiping away the not-tears. I must have presented an extremely pathetic sight because when I finally glanced up, her expression melted like butter. To my dread, she swooped me up into a tight hug. “Ah love ya, Apple Bloom,” she said as she squeezed me against her warm breast. “Don’t you ever forget that, okay?”

“O-Okay,” I managed, still scraping my tongue along my teeth to get rid of the aftertaste that hung in my mouth. Her expression fell when I didn’t respond how she would have liked. At that moment I would have said nearly anything to avoid another soapy encounter, but there was no way in hell I was going to pretend to love her back. Part of me objected to the thought of ruining her and Apple Bloom’s relationship, but I ignored the thought so hard that if it had been coal, I would have made diamonds. I was stuck in Apple Bloom’s body, and I couldn’t care less about how well the two got on as sisters once I got back home.

After being escorted from the bathroom, I wasn’t surprised to see that Big Mac had already left to go take care of more mindless menial labor. Granny Smith was busy cleaning the table, her soft snores a sign of a mare hard at work pulling her own weight. From the show, it seemed like Applejack was the brains of the outfit, which was a pretty condemning thing, really. As I stood by quietly, trying to forget how I had just been orally violated, Applejack continued to give me her spiel about needing to go see my friends, get myself back to normal, it would be good for me, yadda yadda bullshit.

I didn’t pay attention until she plopped a heavy basket on my back, the weight of the wicker anvil enough to force an “oof!” from my reluctant – and still soap-marred – lips. “Ah’ve got a picnic basket of treats for y’all to enjoy, so this way you can have somethin’ t’ eat while y’all are out an’ about enjoyin’ your day off.” Applejack gave me a weak smile. “Just don’t be eatin’ everything all on your lonesome!”

Fat chance, I thought back. I could already smell the nauseating scent of apple-related foodstuffs leaking out of the basket. I mumbled another noncommittal answer, and Applejack – looking somewhat remorseful about her actions – bought it. She tousled my disgustingly red hair in a disgustingly familiar way before frowning. “Wait, where’s your bow?”

I froze. “Bow?”

“Oh, you can’t be thinkin’ of going out without your bow!” she declared, sounding offended at the mere thought.

I nearly bit my tongue off keeping myself from telling her to fuck off. The desire was there, but the taste of soap still haunted my taste buds. Slowly I cracked a smile. “S-Sure. Can you, uh, tie it for me?”

Applejack seemed happy enough to indulge my request, which made it clear that following the show’s logic seemed the best way to keep from getting my new ‘sister’ from giving me crap for the rest of my time in Equestria.

Once the bow was tied I fled from the farmhouse, feeling Applejack’s eyes lingering on me as I made a straight line away from the rickety building. The sunlight was like a warm blanket, the temperature outside the definition of a perfect day. I hated it. I wasn’t a day person; I liked the night. Now I was stuck carrying food for some other little bastards instead of enjoying my recommended 10-14 hours of sleep. God, the last time I had been up before noon, I’d had a court date to make.

As soon as I was sure Applejack couldn’t see me anymore I roughly dumped the basket behind a nearby tree, taking satisfaction in the sight of flakey and slightly steaming baked goods crumbling and falling apart as they were tossed into the grass. Like hell I was going to do anything for anyone else here. I had a good thing going back home. I liked the show, sure, but I liked my own life better. Being stuck in the body of what was the equivalent of a disabled little girl was not my idea of a fantasy come true.

Leaving the basket hidden in some bushes, I altered course towards the Cutie Mark Crusader treehouse visible in the distance. It was a vain hope, I knew, but I could only hope that the foals had stashed something alcoholic away somewhere inside.

Because if I didn’t get blind-drunk soon, I was fairly confident I would end up killing the next pony I met.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I clicked my helmet on, tightened the straps, and stepped onto the scooter. I tightened my grip on the handlebars and my wings began to buzz. I’m not quite sure how, but my hooves had locked onto the bar steering the scooter as I flew down the road screaming in a wild panic. The wind made it feel like I was trying to walk into the center of a hurricane. My tail and mane whipped behind my buzzing wings as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

“Woohoo!”

I had always wondered what it’d be like to be a filly turned projectile, but actually getting to be Scootaloo was something else entirely. I didn’t know how I got here, but I knew it’s the best day I’ve ever had.

A small bump in the road nearly made me lose my balance. My wings seemed to keep me stable, and I swerved past a market stall. Dozens of cabbages spilt out of the stall when I bumped it, but I had gotten my balance back.

When wondering what the first thing I’d do in Equestria would be, I figured it’d be meet the mane six or something lame. Hurtling down the road propelled by hummingbird wings on a plank with wheels had not occurred to me. This was the kind of thrill money couldn’t buy—unless you had a really fast motorcycle, and wings. At this speed I was sure to find Sweet Apple Acres and the Cutie Mark Crusaders. I’d play it cool and hang out with the fillies until I woke up—or whatever force brought me here decided to send me back.

My memories were blurred of how I got here, or why. All I knew is that every opportunity I imagined was now possible: cupcakes, apple pie, learning to fly, crusading, and meeting the best pony. Having been new to the fandom, my list of desires was fairly short. I’m sure I could just race along in a random direction and end up on an adventure.

One desire stood above the rest: Rainbow Dash. She was the best pony, and anyone who said otherwise was just trying to be a hipster by denying it. Dash had it all going on: the sonic rainboom, the mane and tail, the attitude. . . It was much to my chagrin that I couldn’t convince the other marines to see things my way. On the other hand, they liked to get blackout drunk, and more than one of them has woken up with a Diamond Tiara or Celestia tattoo.

I didn’t let it get to me though, especially not now. I would get to meet Dash and I would be taken under her wing. Then she would teach me how to fly, and I would finally find my cutie mark. At least, I hoped I was here long enough for all that. Just in case, I wasn’t going to waste my time or do anything stupid that would let Twilight or Celestia figure out I’m a human. I’ve read enough fiction to know that I’m as good as magicked back to Earth once they caught wind of this.

I must have been focusing too firmly on fulfilling my every insane wish, because my grip slipped. My hooves jabbed the handlebars for purchase, causing the wheels to turn and the scooter to stop abruptly without me.

I hadn’t even begun to scream when I saw the nearby apple tree barreling towards me. I flailed my legs as my wings buzzed. What had started out as my own private Nascar race ended with my head colliding with an apple tree at what I can only assume was an unsafe velocity.

The world blurred and I thought I could see ducks. Something was definitely circling my head. Thank God—thank Celestia for helmets. I’d expected that to hurt much more. Apparently a pegasus is tougher than they look; aside from every muscle in my body being sore, I hadn’t snapped my spine, and for that I was thankful.

The best part of the whole ordeal was that ponies really do have rubber bodies. I’m no horse expert, but I know human anatomy and I could tell that my new legs shouldn’t be able to bend like this. My forelegs had crumpled into the shape of an ‘S’, and appeared to have a dozen joints in them. They felt like marshmallows, and I had to poke my leg to make sure there really was a bone in there somewhere. My hooves shouldn’t be able to lift or grip things, nor should my spine be this bendy.

Now that I really looked at it, this filly had an amazing body. No excess body fat, no blemishes, and she was well-defined. The wings were a tad small, as I had found out when I jumped from a second story window. I had some training to do before I’d be ready to fly.

Once the fascination with my seemingly invincible filly body faded, I dusted myself off and got back on my scooter. This time I’d take it a little slower, at least until I found Apple Bloom or the club house. From what I’ve gathered, I’m a rough and tumble tomboy orphan. I’d need a place to sleep at night until I found Rainbow Dash and convinced her to teach me to fly. Maybe she’d even adopt me. There were so many stories involving abuse I had read that I was sure I could come up with a sob story to convince her.

I never realized how big the apple farm was, nor how many roots those damn trees had. I must have spent an hour buzzing around the field looking for the barn, the clubhouse, a water tower... anything. There were millions of trees there, or was that the same tree I passed five minutes ago?

After a dozen crashes and a few scraped knees, I’d gotten good at piloting the pony-powered projectile that was my scooter. I was able to steer to avoid the trees, even hover for a couple seconds to get over roots.

It was so fun to screw around that I nearly passed the clubhouse completely. I carried my scooter up to the door and pushed it open. Inside were an assortment of items from blankets and sleeping bags to a podium with a cutie mark book on it. I set down my scooter and took off my helmet. Inside the red book was a complete checklist of every single cutie mark the fillies had tried to get.

I skimmed through it for a while thinking up what crusade I’d go on first. They’d never tried ‘stunt doubles’ so I made a mental note to borrow the party cannon, some spare helmets, and Sweetie Belle. Why her? I wasn’t about to shoot myself out of a cannon; I’m smarter than that. She could go first, and then I’d shoot myself out of the cannon.

My stomach rumbled and I looked around for some food. Various cabinets filled the club house. Half of them looked perfect, and half of them looked like Apple Bloom had built them drunk—or perhaps Sweetie and I had built the abortions you might loosely define as cabinets.

I was able to find more maps, knick knacks, rice paddies, even a bone to give a dog. I found the trademark crusader cape and decided to put it on. That was when I realized how hard things would be without fingers or thumbs. It hadn’t been much of an issue on the scooter; turns out muscle memory really does make it like “riding a bike.” Even though I’m fairly certain I’ve never rode a razor scooter as a three foot tall malnourished filly, it came naturally.

Finally I got something resembling a knot tied in it. I had learned early on in my career that if you can’t tie a knot, tie a lot. I was able to fumble it around over my head until it eventually slipped over my neck and draped down my back.

That was a piece of cake. Scootaloo: 1 Opposable thumbs: 0

I was making myself at home when I heard hooves on the ramp leading to the clubhouse. I went over to the door and opened it to find Apple Bloom staring at me with a look of disbelief.

“Apple Bloom!” I shouted. With a quick movement, I tackled her in the classic pony hug. To say she was unamused would be an understatement. No sooner had I started laughing and rolling across the ground on top of her, she punched me in the mouth and pushed me off. To be fair, she didn’t hit that hard, but apparently hugging like Pinkie Pie was more annoying then they let on in the show.

“Get offa me!” She stood up and began dusting herself off.

I took a couple steps back. “Oops, heh, I was a little excited. I was just so surprised to see you and I’ve always wanted to hug a pony. . . is that weird?”

“Yes, yes it is.” She closed her eyes and began to mumble softly under her breath.

“So. . . Apple Bloom, wanna go crusading?” I asked.

“Have ya tried Cutie Mark Crusader bartender?” Apple Bloom gestured into the clubhouse. “Mayba ya got a bottle of liquor around here to practice.”

“Afraid not. I already rummaged around and I couldn’t even find a snack. I’m starving.”

Apple Bloom shook her head and sighed. “Then ah ain’t in the mood.”

“For what?” I put my scooter in the club house, and stayed as close to her as felt safe. Something seemed off about Apple Bloom as we walked into the apple orchard. I’d never seen her act this way before. Imagining what Scootaloo would do, I decided it was my job to cheer the sad filly up.

She kicked an apple that had fallen to the ground, causing it to splatter open. “Crusadin’, you, apples. . . ah don’t wanna talk about it anyhow.”

“Whatever, let’s at least go get some cupcakes or something. I don’t have any bits. Did I mention I’m starving?”

“Don’t look at me,” Apple Bloom said.

“Why not? You got a sister and a house full of food—either get us some money for cupcakes or some apple pie!” I tried to picture myself making puppy-dog eyes. After a few seconds of using unfamiliar facial muscles, I’m fairly certain I had eyes as wide as dinner plates and a pathetic looking whimper.

She looked at me and was clenching her teeth. “Damn it, fine. Ah’ll get us some bits if ya stop beggin’.”

“Deal! This is going to be so awesome.”

Apple Bloom shook her head as she walked quickly back towards the house.

The crusaders had always looked like they had a lot of fun. Apple Bloom in particular seemed to always be upbeat. Right now she seemed to have a dark cloud over her head. She looked like she could use some cheering up, and I had a long list of things to try. I couldn’t let everypony see how sad she was and her not wanting to crusade with me. Perhaps she’d warm up and get back to the cheerful and naive pony I’d always imagined meeting.

“So, you want to get the wagon and some rope or something? We could go for a ride.”

“Sounds stupid, ah’d rather walk.”

“Oh.” I caught up and walked at her side. “You see Big Ma—wait, you do have apple pie, right?”

As soon as I asked she turned and glared at me. “Ah hate apples.”

I chuckled at the joke. “Yeah, Apple Bloom hates apples.”

“Ah think I hate you too.” She turned and resumed walking towards her house.

“Aww come on, you know you love me.” I bumped into her side to get her to look at me again. My smile was met by a cold calculating glare.

“We’re here.” Apple Bloom drew my attention forward to the house. It looked weathered but solid, with slightly faded red walls and a shingled roof. There was an apple pie cooling on the windowsill. Before I knew it, I was shuffling my hooves, hopping around as if I had to use the restroom really bad.

“Ohmygosh ohmygosh! Apple pie!” I knocked Apple Bloom to the ground and shoved my way through the door. My stomach was already rumbling. After sprinting to the windowsill I was reminded of how short I was now. Even with my wings flapping full speed, I couldn’t jump high enough to reach it.

“Unf! Hey, Apple Bloom! Give me a boost.” I turned around and saw her flop down on the couch and mutter something. “Apple Bloom?”

Using a trick I had seen before, I snuck up and took her tail in my mouth. It tasted a bit dusty and tickled my nose, nearly making me sneeze. With a firm tug I yanked her off the sofa. She landed on the floor with a thud and quickly got back on her hooves.

“Hey, pie now, sleep later, okay? Please?” I asked.

“Fine, but after ah get you some pie we’re havin’ a talk ‘bout personal space, because this,” she gestured between us, “just ain’t workin’.”

She went over to the windowsill and looked up at the pie above us. I walked up behind her and sized up the distance I’d have to jump.

“So how am ah supposed ta boost—ooph.” She was cut off as I leapt up onto her back. My hooves nearly slipped, but I adjusted them to stand closer to her spine for stability. I thought I heard her swear, but it was likely my ears playing tricks on me. The fillies around here don’t even use ponified swears.

“Okay, stand still, I’ve almost got it.” My hooves slid the pie off the ledge. Just as I started to wonder how I was supposed to get back down, I lost my footing and fell backwards. The pie I had worked so hard for fell, and I felt a sharp pain in my wings.

“Ugh, why?” I asked. The delicious pie had probably landed on the floor and been ruined.

“Here, ah got your pie,” Apple Bloom said.

I rolled over and stood up. Somehow, balanced on her back, was my apple pie. Despite a facial grimace that could be mistaken for contempt, she stood still so I could retrieve my prize.

“Thank you!” I wrapped both hooves around her neck and hugged her as hard as I could. “Let’s dig in!”

I took the pie in my mouth and set it on the ground. Without fingers, utensils, or even a napkin this would likely get messy.

“You don’t want any, do you? I don’t see a polite way to do this.”

She shook her head no. “Knock yourself out. Ah’m takin’ a nap.”

I jammed my muzzle into the pie, all pretense of subtlety gone. I’d always heard the theories, that Apple family apples were the best in all of Equestria. Let me be the first to confirm it is true. The apples were sweet, the cinnamon divine, the golden flakey crust... if I could have eaten nothing but apples for the rest of my life, I would have done it in a heartbeat.

“Apple Bloom! Ah told ya not to get any pie ‘til after lunch!” Applejack shouted.

I pulled my face out of the pie and frowned. Over half of it was still sitting in the pie tin, taunting me. My surprisingly long and wide tongue was able to round up every crumb on my muzzle in one smooth motion. For the first time, I actually understood how Spike and Pinkie did it.

I looked between the two earth ponies. Apple Bloom wasn’t making eye contact and Applejack didn’t seem certain if she was upset or worried. Her furrowed brow didn’t match the concerned look she was giving her. Maybe they were having issues just like Rarity and Sweetie always did, though I found that pretty tough to believe.

“Sorry, Applejack. You just make the best pie I’ve ever tasted. It was my fault,” I said.

Applejack smiled when she turned to face me, a knowing look in her eye. “Thanks, sugarcube, but Apple Bloom still knew better.” She turned back to Apple Bloom. “Ah thought ya’d learned your lesson earlier, sis. At least tell me y’all are feelin’ better now?” Applejack asked.

“Yeah, a little,” she replied.

“Just leave it to me, AJ. I’ll cheer her up for you,” I said.

“Alright, you two stay outta trouble—ah who am ah kiddin’. Just try not to burn down the day spa again. We can’t afford any more fires bein’ started from tryin’ to fill up a sauna with hot rocks.”

After Applejack had left and I had finished the pie, I went to sit down next to Apple Bloom. She was lying on her back, massaging her temples. Both eyes were clenched shut and she seemed to be enjoying the quiet.

I climbed up on the couch and sat down next to her. It was softer than any blanket I had owned, and very fluffy. The animation doesn’t capture exactly how wonderful everything is.

“Thanks,” Apple Bloom said.

“Huh, for what?”

“For gettin’ rid of AJ, and for bein’ quiet for a change.”

“Heh, you're welcome then. If you would smile a little more I wouldn’t have to try so hard, you know.”

“Please, just shut up and don’t ruin the moment.” Apple Bloom curled up on the sofa and yawned.

“Eh, sure. I suddenly feel like I need a nap anyway.”

I curled up on the other side of the couch and waited a couple minutes. Apple Bloom began to snore softly, and I couldn’t resist. I gently made my way over and cuddled up against her side, pulling the crusader cape over us as a blanket.

I had to stifle my giddiness at the thought of the two of us napping together. Hey, everyone likes to cuddle, especially when you’re a cute filly with the chance to nap next to another cute filly. Given the uncertain length of time I would be here, it seemed only fair to take advantage of every opportunity to relax. So far it seemed like this was a place where nothing could possibly go wrong.

I yawned and closed my eyes, falling asleep with an arm over Apple Bloom’s shoulder. Equestria was going to be awesome!

Chapter 3 - Boundaries

Chapter 3 - Titillating Typography

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I was woken up by something hard. That might not have been a bad thing, had the object not been roughly hoof shaped and impacting my muzzle, sending me toppling over to land on my back. Who had I fallen asleep next to this time?

“Boundaries, Scootaloo!” a voice called out.

“Ugh?” I rubbed the tears out of my eyes. These pony noses were much more sensitive than a human’s nose. My mind quickly caught up with my situation. I woke up as Scootaloo, had fun racing on the scooter, tackled Apple Bloom in a hug, and fell asleep next to her. Oh. . . Apple Bloom must have been surprised when she woke up to us cuddling.

“Hey, I’m all about boundaries. I just didn’t know you were so grumpy when you woke up,” I replied.

“Ah’m not grumpy, trust me. When ah’m fuckin’ grumpy, you’ll know it!”

I picked myself up and stood to look at her. I don’t recall Apple Bloom ever saying bucking before. Maybe in real life, the ponies did use ponified swears. That must be the explanation; I couldn’t expect this to be exactly like the show. The best thing to do was stop over-analyzing and just enjoy the ride.

“My bad.” I smiled.

Apple Bloom rolled her eyes and noticed her sister staring at her from the second floor. I could see they were both on edge, though Apple Bloom seemed to have gone from grumpy to scared as her ears folded down.

“Enough horseplay, let’s go crusaderin’ Scootaloo! We can uh. . . go find Sweetie and do fun, normal pony stuff!” Apple Bloom ran out the door, barely waiting for me to follow.

“That sounds great, but slow down!” I followed her out the door. When I looked back, I saw Applejack watching us. Maybe it was just me, but I don’t recall ever getting a stalker vibe from her. I’d have to be careful; there was no telling what happened around the farm when nopony was looking. For all I knew, in this universe Big Mac really did have a thing for fillies.

Sweet Celestia, I hope not. If I turn out to be stuck in one of those. . . no, this is the normal Equestria. Just because a couple ponies don’t match my version of canon doesn’t mean somepony is going to kill me and ruin my fun.

“So I was thinking of getting stunt double cutie marks,” I offered.

“What?”

“You know, we’re going crusading. I want to fire Sweetie out of a cannon. It’s simple math, not the least bit reckless.”

“As long as y’all don’t fire me, fine. Ah’d like to see somepony launched to the moon.”

I watched as she looked back at her home, as if it were some sort of monster.

“Oh! I get it now. It makes sense: it’s Applejack’s time of year and you must be going through—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence!” Apple Bloom interjected.

“—puberty! No wonder you two are fighting, Sugarcube.” I giggled at her pained expression. I was sure for all the times they’d called Scootaloo chicken, the poor filly deserved some payback.

“One. . .”

“Huh?”

“Two. . .”

“Hey, Bloom, you're starting to creep me out,” I said.

“Three!”

Apple Bloom lunged for me. Luckily, I was ready. My wings began to buzz, and I narrowly dodged her. I began laughing and running away. “This is more like it!” I shouted as we played tag.

“Y’all are good as plucked, ya chicken!” Apple Bloom shouted.

“Hah! Nopony calls me chicken.” I kept running towards the clubhouse. Finally, I was having some fun and had cheered my new friend up.

“Then why are ya runnin’? Ah just want to talk!”

I ran along and weaved through the apple trees. Despite being an earth pony, she was able to keep up. I wished my wings worked a little better. Part of me knew that most flying animals didn’t flap like a hummingbird. I’d have to try gliding some time; maybe Scootaloo was just doing it wrong. Now that I was here, I was going to learn to fly, and not even tiny wings would prevent that.

My train of thought ended as I reached the front door to the clubhouse and put a hoof on it.

“Safe!” I shouted, and paused to catch my breath. I turned around to see how far ahead of Apple Bloom I was.

The yellow missile hit me in the side, knocking us through the door. We rolled to a stop inside. It was all too hilarious and I laughing loudly, unable to control myself. Even after my fellow crusader stood up and glared at me. I saw her finally break and smile, perhaps even laugh, before sighing and rolling her eyes again.

“Y’all are lucky ah’m in a forgivin’ mood, on account o’ you bein’ slightly less annoyin’ than my sis.” Apple Bloom offered me a hoof to help me up.

I grabbed her hoof and let her pull me up. She didn’t let go, instead pulling me face to face.

“But don’t ya dare talk ta me about puberty again, ok?”

“Sure, boundaries, got it.” I smiled, and since she wouldn’t let go, I hugged her. That did the trick, and she suddenly let go. “I’m just glad I saw a smile in there. For a second I thought you’d rolled around in some poison joke or something.”

“Damn, ah wish this whole day was just poison joke,” Apple Bloom said.

“Why? Are you sick? Oh! I totally know some medical stuff! Can I treat you?”

“Ah reckon you can’t even read, so how’d you learn medical stuff?”

“The intern—national library in Canterlot? Just ’cuz I don’t read all the time doesn’t mean I can’t read,” I bluffed. I had nearly blown my cover, and the last thing I needed was the element of honesty and her sister interrogating the alien that stole Scootaloo’s body.

“Yeah, right. If ya’ll can read, read my lips.”

I watched her mouth some words but couldn’t make them out. I nearly started laughing again when she stopped me with her hoof.

“Please, enough laughin’. Ah thought ya were gonna get me off the farm for some fresh air or somethin’.”

“Oh, sure! I think the wagon is out back. I’ll grab my scooter and our helmets and give you a ride into town.”

“Helmets?”

“Yeah, in this closet.” I opened it up and found Sweetie Belle’s and Apple Bloom’s helmets. “Take these and I’ll get the wagon hooked up to the scooter.”

“Ya ain’t gonna get me on no darn death trap on wheels! Ugh, stupid accent. . .”

“What accident? I don’t recall crashing that many times. I mean, I went almost thirty minutes without hitting a tree root this morning. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Ah take back what I said about puberty. Ya’ll ask me What’s the worst that can happen one more time and ah’ll fling ya into Ghastly Gorge myself.”

“Well, I suppose most of our crusades end in tragedy, so I see why you don’t want me to jinx it. . . come on! You’ve got to ride into town with me. I’ve been dying to go on a proper crusade!”

I pulled out my patented puppy eye look. For a moment I thought it had lost its charm, until she grunted and started fumbling her helmet on.

“Awesome! I’ll be right back.” I rushed outside with the scooter, my helmet already fastened. I tied the wagon to the scooter, and thanked Celestia for the unique physics of this world. They allowed me to be just bendy and indestructible enough, yet still allowed me to propel myself at fun velocities.

This was going to either be the best crusade ever, or the shortest wagon ride of our life. I caught on to the scooter quick enough; this couldn’t be any harder.

Apple Bloom came out and started to climb into the wagon. I had to stifle my chuckling as she struggled to get inside. It wasn’t taller than her, but getting up over the edge of the wagon made her look like she was drunk. Actually, I had a cat that flailed around like that once. To be fair, I was taking him through airport security and had to hold him by the scruff of his neck while they tested him for explosive residue. Thank Celestia I didn’t live in such a crazy place anymore.

Once she was in, I hopped on the scooter. “Please fasten your seatbelts and keep your arms and legs inside the wagon at all times. We know you have no choice in transportation, so we thank you for continuing to use us after your constant near death experiences!”

“Wait, what the fu—” Apple Bloom was cut off as I flapped my wings and shot off at full speed. The scooter and I traveled a few inches, the rope pulled taught, and with a mighty jerk the wagon accelerated to full speed.

I felt lighter and slowed down. I looked over my shoulder to find Apple Bloom had fallen out of the wagon. She had landed face first in some mud—at least I really hoped it was mud or she might actually kill me.

“Hey, slowpoke, sorry! I’ll try to be more gentle okay?”

“One. . .”

“Uh, I’m on a scooter. You’ll never catch me.”

“Two. . .”

“You really want to walk?” I asked.

Apple Bloom glanced around, noticing her sister spying on us again. She took a deep breath. “Eh, whatever, let’s go.”

She hurried over and hopped in the wagon. I took off more slowly this time. On the way to Sugarcube Corner I mused over what had her and her sister at odds. Women, I never did understand them. Now I am one. Go figure.

Chapter 4 - I Have Stallion Bits

Chapter 4 - I Have Stallion Bits

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I needed to stop watching TV so much. Spending every night watching re-runs of Adventure Time until I became too exhausted to stay awake was not a healthy life choice. Last night was such a headache trying to fall asleep with Finn and Jake in the background trying to watch Ice King’s secret tapes. I must have crawled back to bed last night after shutting the TV off without even realizing it.

I exhaled and a snort came out. Meh, just ’cause I was a girl didn’t mean I had to be dignified. Did I leave my window open last night? The chirping of birds refused to let me go back to sleep. The light on my eyelids seemed a little too bright for my room. I shifted, but something about me was off. My whole anatomy felt different. It was like my limbs were fighting my brain to stay in their current position. I tried to reach out. I couldn’t feel my fingers. I opened my eyes to a white bedroom covered with Blueblood fanart.

What. The. Hay?

Okay, I knew I had not been drunk or under the influence of anything last night, so how had I ended up in some obsessive fan’s bedroom? Above me was a larger than life (I was assuming) painting of him stretched out on an opulent white satin sheet. This person was obsessed. I knew I needed to get out as soon as my brain stopped telling me something was wrong. I met eyes with the painting and balked. Something about the expression of the image made me feel dirty just looking at it. I glanced down the length of the portrait. The painter had paid special attention to detail... too much attention.

“Oh my...” I said out loud. My mind stopped.

That was not my voice. I had somehow gone from a soprano to a tenor.

“This room is getting to me—” My breath quickened. I turned my head to look around the room. Why was the hair falling over my eyes blonde? The closest it had ever been to blonde was that time I had experimented with peroxide my freshman year. Yes, I had dyed it from black to red again recently, but this wasn’t even close...

I crossed my eyes to stare at my nose which was elongated and covered in white hair. I had a muzzle. A white muzzle. White... white and blonde... and I had a muzzle... and my hair... mane thing was blonde... and I was in Equestria in Blu—No. Please no... what is going on?

In front of me, between two marble busts of Blueblood, in different expressions of snobbery, sat an opulent gilded mirror. I threw my body towards the edge of the bed to look into it, but my bed had other plans. My sheets had wrapped me in a cocoon, and I fell, muzzle-first, onto the marble floors. Okay, I might not have been exactly skinny, but I didn’t remember weighing that much when I last stepped on the scale... which might have been before the finals week panic, but that wasn’t important now.

Was I wearing clothes now? I felt... fuzzy. I still couldn’t feel my hands or my feet. After some struggling, I finally bent my arms to where I could see I was completely covered in a silky white coat. Oh please no. Any other pony but him. Tell me I’m just an unfortunate mare that stayed in Blueblood’s room for no apparent reason. After wiggling like mad, I finally crawled from the sheets and stumbled towards the mirror.

Oh, gag me...

I’m Blueblood.

I looked at the flank that my brain was now in control of. Yep, that’s his cutie mark. Of all stallions in Equestria, why put me in the body of Blueblood? Of all ponies, why genderswap me to make me a stallion? Of all animals, why instead of a dragon or gryphon a pony? I was an omnivore. I watched my pupils shrink in the mirror as I realized two very significant things. First of all, I couldn’t eat meat, which meant I no longer could eat bacon. If I was expected to spend the rest of my life eating salads without the occasional courtesy of chicken, I was very likely going to kill somebody—maybe even one of those nice talking cows from that one episode—just so I could enjoy a hamburger!

Secondly... I had stallion parts now.

My scream almost hurt my own ears as I began to tear around the room in a panic. The painting and statues around the room turned into gold, white and blue streaks as I raced haphazardly around the gigantic bed. A small bell rang somewhere in the room, and I leapt onto the dresser, knocking off a bust that crashed out of sight. Instantly, a fleet of maids in frilly white and black saddles pranced in and cleaned up the mess while I tried to hide behind the bed. The show had never mentioned this. True, Blueblood had only ever been in one episode, but would they really have something so... well like this in a kids’ show?

The maids took no notice of me and frolicked out of the room. Glancing at the top of the dresser, I realized there was a small trigger where the bust had stood. Was he seriously scared that someone would steal a bust of him? I sighed and pushed myself up on my hooves, looking down at the fluffy duvet embroidered with “BB” in gold. This... can’t be real.

A butler walked in, and I involuntarily tried to dive under the bed. Of course, I was now too large to fit under there and I ended up bruising my shoulders. I had to get out of here. This couldn’t get any more ridiculous.

“Master Blueblood. Would you like your lunch now?”

“Who are you? Are you his butler?”

“Again, Master Blueblood?” he said with a tired roll of his eyes.

Is this a normal question for him to ask?

“I’m not Blueblood.”

“Of course you’re not, sir.”

I arched my eyebrow. What the hay was going on? Was this behaviour normal? He had been somewhat particular about his tastes in the show, but this was downright eccentric. The proper earth pony butler placed the steaming plate of vegetables on a small gilded table sitting between two hideous rococo style chairs covered in gold leaf and white velvet.

“I mean, I’m not even a stallion!” I tried to explain.

“Of course you’re not, sir.”

“No! Really! I’m a girl! I’m female! This isn’t my voice!”

“As you say, sir.”

“I mean... stallion? What am I say—I’m not even a horse!”

“Of course you’re not, sir.”

“Please, stop calling me sir...” I whimpered.

“Of course, Master Blueblood.”

I wasn’t sure if that was much of an improvement. I’d take what I could. While staring at the plate of veggies, I died a little inside.

“I’m not hungry right now. Thank you, though. I need to—”

“Master Blueblood, you are ordered to eat under threat of banishment by your Aunt Celestia.”

Well, that got rather intense. I sheepishly walked over to the table.

“Would she seriously banish me for not eating my veggies?”

“She’d banish you for almost anything nowadays, sir,” he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes.

Huh...

Four maids appeared out of nowhere and levitated me into the chair. I had no time or will to move as they forced me to sit painfully upright. One then combed my mane and another assaulted me with hairspray. Three more maids rose from out of nowhere, each one filing one of my hooves while a fourth one began brushing my fetlocks. I felt something pull on my tail and saw one of the maids glare at me out of the corner of my eye. A pegasus maid then flew in front of me with a fork full of impaled carrots. I gulped before magic forced my muzzle open and then slammed my jaw closed on the carrots.

I would have shanked Princess Celestia just to get a steak.

Lunch went like this for what felt like hours but only lasted five minutes or so. I knew it was five minutes or so because the butler sang a German operatic version of the Hearth Warming Carol exactly ten times. I counted it to take my mind off the glaring horde of maids pampering me within my personal space bubble. Their combined magic kept me still so that I couldn’t squirm away from them.

After lunch was finished, I sat in my chair, too scared to move even when the magic was finally taken off. I didn’t even turn my head while I tried to examine the whole line of about a dozen servants standing next to the table. Had they multiplied?

“Shall I read your fanmail to you, Master Blueblood?”

“Eeeee...” I said. I was not entirely sure what sound came out of my mouth... but I knew it had an ‘eeeee’ sound in it somewhere.

“Dearest Prince Blueblood. Meet me at the Concert Hall. You remember where. I got the outfit on. Sincerely, Frilly Frou. My Darling Prince Blueblood! I know you love me and I cannot wait to meet you. Please enjoy my newest picture that I drew of us! Our son has your eyes! ~With all my heart that belongs to you, Ruby Keep—See? She drew this...”

My eyes darted to the paper and I gulped again. Sweat poured off my forehead and a maid patted me dry.

“Please hide that where I can’t see it...” I squeaked before looking straight ahead.

“Very good, Master Blueblood,” he said drolly as the picture burst into flames next to my face. The ashes scattered on my right foreleg and a maid dusted it off before returning to the line.

“Message from Fleur...” he said, dropping a pile in front of me. “Ten of them since last night.”

I finally turned my head and looked up at him.

“Throw them in the waste bin as usual?” he asked.

I whimpered. They threw themselves at a stuffed wastepaper basket next to my bed.

“Ah... one from Miss Rarity—”

I instinctively ripped it from his hooves.

Prince Blueblood,

I still despise you.

Regards,

Rarity

She seriously took the time to send him this? The letter and everything was crafted with the quality suitable for an invitation, not hatemail. Was this something she did often? This paper didn’t look cheap. Neither did the ink, for that matter. Then again, maybe she wrote all her letters in gold calligraphy. Certainly seemed to fit her. The maids all exchanged looks. Was this something Blueblood wouldn’t normally have done?

Good.

“Shall I assume you want to burn it?” the butler asked, also looking confused.

“Burn it?”

“Yes... the germs, Master Blueblood?”

“What... do you think she sneezed on it or something?”

“I thought you...” He looked me in the eye as if trying to ask a rhetorical question.

“Remember what I was trying to tell you before about me not being Blueblood?”

“Shall I call the physician again?” one of the maids asked the butler while the others began to back away from me as if I might strike.

“No need. Everyone, I have something to tell you.” I pushed myself away from the table and carefully moved to stand on my hooves again. “I want to make this very clear: I am not Prince Blueblood. I am not even from Equestria. I am not even male.”

“Oh, this again...” a maid groaned.

Well... there goes that plan.

“This has happened before?”

“Well... you’ve claimed not to be a stallion before...”

I facehoofed, then made a mental note that facehoofing hurts. I mean, shoving an oversized nail the size of a cantaloupe into your face? Ouch.

“Girls, Master Blueblood is obviously tired and in need of care.” The maids groaned. “You know what to do,” he added with a hint of command.

One by one, they trotted out with their muzzles in the air as their hooves rhythmically tapped against the marble floors. I turned to face the butler and took a step towards the door. He blocked my way.

“May I...” I began.

“Don’t worry, sir, it will all be fine sooner or later.”

I took a firm step forward and looked him in the eye. “Please move. I am not spending one more minute in this place.”

“Very good, sir.” He didn’t budge.

I reached my hoof up and sent my hair askew out of frustration.

“Will you please move?”

“Very good, Master Blueblood.”

I took a step around him and he backed up to step between me and the door again. I could tell he was scared...

Excellent...

“You have three seconds to get out of my way...” I growled.

He raised his eyebrow. “If you’re really not Blueblood, you would easily get lost and get into trouble.”

“At least I won’t be here.” I pushed against him, throwing him off balance, and burst through the doors where the maids approached, dressed as nurses. They backed up when I stormed from the room. I stopped to stare at them, completely dumbfounded. I tried to figure out why they were dressed as nurses when they had obviously never been trained for the medical profession. When I figured it out, my cheeks grew red as I felt myself sympathizing with the feminist movement. For crying out loud! This was a kids’ show!

“Stop him!” the butler shouted from within the room. They started prancing towards me after rolling their eyes.

Seriously? They’re... prancing?

“Why couldn’t I have gotten stuck in Ooo?” I groaned as I began to gallop in the opposite direction. Ahead of me, two guards came from around the corner and slid into place to block my escape.

“Prince Blueblood! Return to your room immediately!” one of them barked.

I backed up and then charged through them. I think my weight was the only reason they weren’t able to stop me. Prince Blueblood probably had been hitting the bon bons a bit too much recently. I slid on the marble floors but soon found my footing.

“Not that way!” a guard shouted in panic.

The doors in front of me glowed white and flung themselves open. I ran into the corridor while glancing behind me... and slammed right into Princess Celestia, knocking her off her feet and leaving a very confused gryphon staring into a now empty space.

I lost my breath when I realized what pony I had knocked to the floor. I had just assaulted the monarch who raised the sun. This was the pony who singlehandedly banished her own sister to the moon for a millenium. And I had just sent her sprawling haphazardly in front of some sort of gryphon delegate.

“Princess Celestia!” I squeaked. “I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking! Let me—”

A golden yellow aura silenced me as I rose in the air, floating in a fetal position. Even through the aura, I could see the hairs on her back bristle.

“Chancellor, I will finalize the details at a later date. If you will excuse me...”

The gryphon gave me a curious glance, then folded her glasses and tucked them away into her crest feathers. As soon as her tail disappeared through closed doors, I was dropped on my flank and Celestia rose above me, her eyes sending daggers.

“How many times have I told you not to speak to me unless I have sent for you?”

“Princess Celestia, you must understand! I’m not Prince...” I stopped when I saw her wince in pain. Did his voice seriously cause her to have headaches?

“Your Majesty! We apologize!”

Oh goody, the guards caught up with me.

“Take him back to his room. I will compensate you both later.”

“Princess Celestia! I’m not Blueblood! I’m a girl! My name is—” Once again, I was silenced by the aura. She began to levitate me towards the guards, her forehead wrinkling under the strain. I struggled and flailed about. I did not want to deal with those maids again. Maybe with my weight and with only her lifting me, the magic wasn’t as powerful? I could see pain on her face. If she would just set me down, I wouldn’t be making this so difficult for her! If I could just convince her I wasn’t worth the trouble of being magically levitated everywhere, I might have a chance to explain myself.

Unfortunately, I convinced her I wasn’t worth the trouble when I kicked and flailed too vehemently, striking Princess Celestia in the jaw. At least I could run now. My magic threw open the pristine doors at the opposite end of the corridor, and I galloped towards them.

“Prince Blueblood! Halt!”

With a toss of my neck that left me dizzy, the doors slammed shut behind me. I didn’t know how many seconds I had and chose the first door to my right to enter. The peanut brittle ceiling rushed to meet me, and I raised my head to see Discord reclining as his couch revolved slowly. He was reading a book, eating each page that he finished while reading from back to front. He glanced at me and arched one of his white eyebrows.

Of course... he can change me to another pony... or maybe a ficus plant but still, at least not Blueblood!

“Discord! Discord, please help me! I just got away from my servants and I need you to change me into something else! Preferably a human!”

He blinked at me multiple times.

“Is asking me to do something for you going to become a habit of yours?” he said, snapping his fingers—or whatever they were called—to make his book disappear. Gravity finally made up its mind and dropped everything in the ridiculously tall room to the floor. I landed on my stomach and nearly lost the miserable lunch I had been given. Discord gave me a somewhat irritated look.

“Please, Discord!” I stood up and stumbled to the heap of rugs in the center of the room, “I’m not Prince Blueblood! I have to get out of here! Please turn me into something else. I don’t care; just get me a different body! Preferably something that eats meat...”

He continued to give me a blank stare with his “hands” behind his head.

“Discord, please! I have to get out of here now! The guards are chasing me and I kicked Princess Celestia in the face!”

Before I could think, he rose into the air and slammed a table down on my head.

Chapter 5 - In Serious Need of a Drink

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

An errant beam of sunlight weaseled its way through my eyelids, igniting a firestorm of agony inside my skull. What the heck did I do last night? I asked myself as I tried to cover my eyes in a miserable attempt to ease the discomfort. It would be easy to blame a hangover... if I were the type to drink enough to warrant one. The fact is that I don’t drink enough to even know what it means to be buzzed, never mind hungover. Somebody turn down the bloody sun!

As I brought up my arm, I noticed that something wasn’t quite right. For one, my entire body felt decidedly off—muscles tight in the wrong places, limbs bending the wrong way, the fact that I felt like I’m wearing some kind of skin-tight fleece bodysuit. It all just felt so very, very wrong. Besides, the tinkling of glass bottles is not usually something heard in substitution for the rustling of bed sheets. Just what in the heck? How did this even...?

“Berry?” a childish female voice called out from the next room. “C’mon, Berry! You need to get up or else I won’t be able to eat before school!” Did I leave the television on after whatever bender I went on last night? I shrugged off what surely had to be some kid’s show and tried to go back to sleep. It’s not like I was missing My Little Pony or anything like that. Sure, it’s a show intended for little girls, and I’m a twenty something male. So what? It’s genuinely charming, happy, arguably well written, and it has plenty of voice actors from my childhood. Even better, there are so many unique characters, foreground or not, to ship!

A banging, or maybe it was just knocking, at my door reignited the pain in my skull. “Huh, whozat?” I muttered lazily, noting the odd way my voice sounded. Each word only compounded the migraine—I refused to admit this was a hangover at this point—and while opening my eyes would only make things worse, I knew I had to. Being unable to remember the previous night and waking up with a head-splitting migraine was bad enough, but was there really some strange person in my hou— “What the? This isn’t my house.”

Two important details stood out through the haze of my not-hangover. Firstly, I wasn’t in my tidy room at home, with cookbooks and sci-fi on my bookshelf, and a computer set-up with a large flatscreen TV for a monitor. No, I was in a pigsty. Empty wine, whiskey, and vodka bottles absolutely littered the room, catching the light to create a dazzling carpet of agony as I sat up. There were bottles jutting out of the dresser, bottles on the windowsill, and bottles balanced atop other bottles. Heck, I’m pretty sure there’s an unopened bottle beneath this pillow, never mind what I’m hoping is a bottle pressed up against my... against my... Sweet merciful everything!

Sweeping aside the blanket and sending countless bottles tumbling to the floor, I looked down at my body. Well, for one, it was certainly not mine. I did not have hooves, light grayish mulberry fur, or a moderate cerise tail, and I most certainly didn’t have teats or a vajayjay! For that matter, I didn’t own a... oh sweet Jesus in heaven! Ew! Why am I a pony mare and why is there one of those between my legs!?

“Eugh, gross!” Without thinking, I defied the natural order of things and picked up the object with my hoof—double gross!—and tossed it across the room. It landed with satisfying—aw, triple gross, brain!—thump behind the one dresser not absolutely covered in discarded liquor bottles. “Great, now I’ve gotta wash my hand, er hoof.”

“Berry, did you wet the bed again?” that young girl’s voice called out once more, this time very clearly on the other side of the door. There was something about her tone of voice, too. It sounded both teasing and disappointed. “Sometimes I wonder whom mom wanted who to watch.”

“No, I uh, I just saw a huge spider on my bed is all. Totally freaked me out,” I lied quickly. Even if this was all some horrific nightmare doomed to become some sort of humiliation conga resultant of my own repressed sexuality, I couldn’t just say to a child, I wet my bed with something, but it certainly wasn’t pee... if you know what I mean. Gross, even just thinking like that, about a pony no less, made my skin crawl. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Stumbling out of the bed, I tried to make my way across the room. Walking on all fours was hard enough on a carpet of glass, but at least this nightmare was generous enough to grant me enough muscle memory to walk with something close to competency. I got as far as the vanity, which was—surprise, surprise—covered in empty bottles and what looked like spilled wine, when I stopped and took a look at myself in the mirror. A mop of curly hair adorned the top of my head and spilling down the back of my neck. Two red-rimmed pools of dark pink stared back at me, but I was more concerned by a dark stain in the fur around my muzzle. Normally, I would have been anything but glad to assume that it was blood, but honestly? If I was who I thought I was, which a quick glance at my butt—yup, a bunch of grapes and a strawberry—revealed to be the case, then the stain might be indicative that, yes, the fandom was right; Berry Punch is an alcoholic.

Berry Punch... hmm... I pondered the name for a second, trying to recall what I knew about that particular background pony. Well, besides being alcoholic, I knew she had a little sister. Her name was Piña Colada, if I recalled correctly, and I was pretty sure I did. There wasn’t much in my headcanon when it came to shipping, mostly because I’d never paid Berry much attention when it came to figuring out which ponies would live happily ever after with who. The alcoholic part of her public image was kind of a detractor for my interests. I mean, alcoholics don’t live happily ever after. They died alone, either of liver failure or choking on their own vomit, just like my old man.

I mean, I suppose I could have imagined her with somepony like Time Turner or Caramel. They both seemed like nice, stable stallions, and if she were to ever kick her alcoholism, she’d definitely need a pillar to help hold her up. If she really does own a vineyard or a winery, that might make things a bit more difficult, but at least she’d be contributing to the household instead of living off of whoever she ended up with. Then again, a pony like Mac might also have been a good choice. He was definitely a mellow enough guy, but wasn’t afraid to speak his mind when it was called for. Then again, what if he was actually with Cheerilee? What if he was a wife-beater? A guy who kicked trees all day either had aggression issues, or poured his anger into his work. Oooh, this was definitely a difficult ship to work out with this body’s hangover.

The filly’s knocking came once more, much more insistently this time. “Come on! You know I can’t reach the counter, otherwise I’d make my own toast!”

Snapped out of my shipping mode, I looked back to the door. If this were a dream, interesting was definitely a possible direction for this to take. I mean, wasn’t that every brony’s dream: to go to Equestria and live the life of a pony? Yeah, I might have chosen someone with a better reputation and more stable social standing, like Rarity, but Berry wasn’t the worst option. It could’ve been worse, I could have been Snips, Snails, or—heaven forbid—Spike.

“Right. Coming!” In just three surprisingly nimble strides, I made it to the door and pulled it open. Getting my first in-person look at the adorable heliotrope filly that was to be my ‘little sister’, I kind of felt bad for holding her up. With a glance at the clock in the hallway, which read six forty three—for some reason, I expected it to be way later—in the morning, I gave the little filly an apologetic smile. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Piña, you must be starving.” Saying that, my own stomach gave a roar of approval as if to reaffirm the sentiment. “Tell you what,” I said, passing beside her and entering the hall. “I’m going to do something special for you to make up for this.”

Not wanting to be left behind, Piña quickly trotted after me before racing ahead. The entire trip to the kitchen was lead by the little one, and the whole time, she kept giving me these weird looks. I mean, you’d swear by the way she was looking at me that Berry never offered to do special things for her, or if she did offer, she certainly never meant it. Gotta fix that.

Maybe it was the brony in me, the inability to say no to a hungry child, or the desire to see how this all played out, but for the time being, finding out what’s going on dropped off my priorities entirely. Once I meandered into the kitchen, I quickly realized that there was a reason she wanted toast. The stove and most of the countertops were covered in, as if the trend wasn’t already clear by this point, empties. Honestly, is this mare a hoarder?

“Uh... oh my,” I groaned. “Did I do all that?”

Looking at me like I’m a complete drunken idiot, she nodded her head before her face took on an almost pained expression. “Yes, sis.”

I glanced around the kitchen in a panic. This was no way for anybody to live. “That empty box there,” I stammer, pointing to a large, empty box overturned in the corner. “Can you take those papers off that box and bring it over?” She gave me another confused look, but pushed off the papers and slid the box across the floor to me. “I’ve apparently really let myself go and need to clean all of this up. I’ll take all of these and everything in my room to a recycler.” I made quick work of the counters from there, overturning the box and brushing the bottles into it.

After a few moments of rattling around in the cupboards and fridge, I had a large bowl set up on the counter, along with two eggs, a set of tongs, a grapefruit, cinnamon, milk, butter, a bag of bread, and vanilla. On the stove, I’d set a large nonstick pan on the stove at a medium high heat and thanked whatever luck I had that the ponies here had electric ovens and stoves. Gas ranges were great if you didn’t mind having a huge fire hazard in your kitchen.

“What are you doing?” she asked curiously, watching me whisk the eggs, milk, and cinnamon together in the bowl. I kinda had to agree that there was something odd about all this. I mean, there was no way that hooves could at all work this way. Yet there I was, a wire whisk strangely stuck to the bottom of one hoof as I stood precariously on two legs, cradling the bowl to my chest. “You can’t cook! Do you even remember what happened to the scrambled eggs?”

Oh crap, I thought, not ceasing my whisking. Am I really in the body of a pony who can’t cook? It occurred to me how strange this would seem. After all, it wasn’t every day a lethal chef got replaced with someone with the chops to cook a three course meal and still be able to put out a magnificent desert. Putting on my best poker face, I glanced back over my shoulder to give her a reassuring smile. “Well, you know how I’m always at Pinkie’s parties?” I replied, making it up as I went. “I got to talking with her about how bad a cook I am, and she offered to give me lessons.”

Her big aquamarine eyes lit up with wonder as she watched me, and a smile near split her face in half. It’d be creepy if it weren’t so damn adorable. “You actually got Pinkie Pie to teach you to cook?” It wasn’t so much a question as it was a cheer. “Does that mean we’ll have something other than cabbage and bean sprouts for dinner tonight?”

Cabbage and bean sprouts? Jeeze, I bet she even just served them raw! Poor kid, I mused, returning the bowl to the counter and grabbing a slice of bread in the tongs. Quickly, I dunked the bread in the mixture before dropping it into the now sizzling pan before repeating the same process with another slice. “Sure thing, kiddo,” I replied, keeping a mental count of elapsed seconds as I watched the french toast. “How’s a hearty vegetable soup and biscuits sound?”

“Really?” she squealed, nearly causing me to drop the bread as I flipped the two slices. Ouch, my ears. “That sounds awesome! Can you really make it?”

I smiled, removing the pan from the heat and grabbing the toast with the tongs. “Sure! If you’re worried, I can even go to the library and write down a recipe from a cookbook,” I answered confidently. In truth, I didn’t even need a recipe for vegetable soup or biscuits; they were practically my specialty! I’d probably check in at the library anyway, if nothing else than to see if Twilight knew anything about body swap spells. There was no need to be foolish and decide right away that this was a dream to just be lived out until I woke. You needed a back-up plan, even if there wasn’t a problem. “Gotta be safe with cooking, ‘cause most cases of food poisoning occur in the home.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best thing to say to her as I cut the grapefruit in half and placed it on her plate. “Okay, that sounded worse for me than it should have,” I apologized, putting her plate in front of her. “I guarantee that this is safe to eat, or there isn’t a strawberry on my behind.”

She giggled at that comment, but it looked like I at least assuaged her fears. As I repeated the process with two more slices of bread, returning the pan to the burner, I began to hum a cheerful little ditty. Maybe this dream wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t my ideal pony dream by any stretch of the mind, but there were worse things than being an alcoholic mare or introducing her sister to decent food. She looked like she was really enjoying it, even without any maple syrup or icing sugar.

That reminded me that Berry’s fridge and pantry were woefully empty. The only food to be found was bread, milk, cereal, cabbage, bean sprouts, and the odd fruit to ensure they didn’t get scurvy. That was almost cruel, and assuredly an unacceptable living condition for a girl as young as Piña. So in addition to visiting the library, I am definitely hitting the market, I thought confidently to myself, grabbing my own toast and taking the other half of the grapefruit.

Almost as if struck by something, I realized that Berry probably had a job, and I had no idea where it was. After pouring some orange juice in a glass—I made double sure that there wasn’t anything extra in it—I joined the filly at the table. “So, um, Piña?” I asked as she nibbled happily on a strip of french toast. “I think I had a bit too much of my special juice last night... and I have no idea where I work. You wouldn’t be able to refresh my memory, would you?”

That “Are you retarded?” look crossed her face once more as she pointed to a note on the fridge. I got up from my spot at the table, my meal completely untouched. Taped to the fridge was a letter with a business card attached to it. “Dear me,” I read aloud. “This is where you work.” An arrow pointed to the business card that read ‘Booze and Baubles: your one-stop ticket to getting tanked and trinkets’. “Love Berry.”

Was this a common occurrence with the mare—that she gets so plastered that she forgets where she works on a regular basis? “I’m getting sick of your crap, Berry,” I muttered darkly, noting that she even had a schedule written on the back of the letter. A glance at the calendar on the fridge thankfully revealed that today was not one of the mornings she was scheduled to work. All this nonsense leaves me in serious need of a drink.

Grumbling, I sat down and grabbed my orange juice. Maybe this headache would go away quicker if I rehydrated. Frowning, I took a pull from my glass and nearly gagged. This was not the same orange juice I sat down with. With the alcoholic bite it had, this was definitely a bloody screwdriver. What the hell!? I thought, quietly draining the juice back into the glass. I double checked before I sat down, just to make sure I didn’t accidentally take a pre-mixed cocktail from the fridge! Where had this come from? Surely Piña didn’t...

No, it didn’t matter. I got up, glass in hoof, and made a three legged shamble over to the sink. Dumping the orange juice down the drain, I turned back to the child. “Say, don’t drink the orange juice, okay?” I said, rinsing the glass out with water before letting the tap fill it. Immediately, I downed it before anything untoward could happen and got a refill from the tap. “It’s gone bad, so it’ll make you sick if you drink it.”

“Alright,” she replied, finishing off the last of her toast and moving on to the grapefruit.

I nodded, convinced that concern was out of the way, and took another mouthful of water. Not again! I whimpered as my entire mouth began to burn. Vodka!?What in the blue blazes is going on here?