Tales of the Unusual

by Rainedash

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Human, Alternate Universe
Length: 4367

A series of stories about strange happenings hosted by the master of chaos himself, Discord.

Hello dear readers, tis I, Discord, and do I have some stories for you. Sit with me for a while, won't you? It's not as though anything bad could happen by simply doing that, right?

((This will be a series of one shots (scifi, horror, just plain unexplainable things happening) hosted by Discorded, ala Tales of the Crypt. Updates might be sporadic though. Also, for now I have this marked teen, but it could go to mature in later chapters. And even though it has the human tag, only some chapters will involve them being human. Others will be pony or anthro.

Also. I'm open to submissions. If you have a one shot scifi, horror, or unusual story you wish you submit, message me.))

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-08-09 16:00:02 UTC

The Clothes Make the Woman

An incredibly handsome, well aged wizard sat in Fluttershy’s cottage, with an angry bunny kicking at his leg. To his side, the kindly, soft-hearted woman with long pink hair was checking her appearance in a mirror before going out. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so make sure to take care of Angel Bunny for me.”

“Oh, that won’t be a problem, my dear Fluttershy. Just look at how much he loves me already.” He picked up the rabbit and patted its head, getting an angry glare in return. Satisfied with the answer, she left the homestead, and Discord dropped Angel to the floor, then turned towards the fourth wall.  “Check, check, can all you dear readers hear me? Well, of course you can’t.” The old man chuckled. He dressed as any older gentleman should, with a long brown coat, a bowler hat, and with a cane to add that extra touch of class. “But, you know what I meant.”

He cleared his throat and continued. “Tonight ladies,  gentlemen, and the various poorly made OCs that you roleplay as, I have a tale for you. They say beauty is only skin deep. Now, we all know that saying is bunk. But, what if it were true. Well then, perhaps more than just beauty can be skin deep. Two young ladies, are about to learn just how deeply your looks and even your clothes can change you, as well as the world’s perception of you.”

***

Octavia sat on her bed, glancing over her newest notes and thinking over her work in progress song. She dressed in a standard grey dress held up by a pair of straps over her shoulders. Her only defining feature to stand out amongst the drab were her eyes: a brilliant violet that shined in contrast to her pale skin and black hair. Perhaps my crescendo should start a half second later, or would people even notice? No, it has to start later; one beat behind when it starts for the others, rather than all at once. She erased the notes’ locations one by one to change the build up. Without warning, the surface of the bed shifted, forcing her to fall backward into another person; what followed was a couple hands going over her eyes.

“I’ll give you one guess. Get it wrong, and you’ll regret it,” whispered a voice in her ear. It was without question female, but it contained a certain harshness that sounded masculine.

“I haven’t the slightest clue. The only person childish enough to still do this game and has easy access to my room is that loud mouth roommate of mine, Vinyl Scratch. So hey, I’m going to guess that it’s Princess Twilight.” Can’t she see that I’m busy? Adding to her annoyance, Vinyl’s intrusion led to Octavia’s notebook fall to the floor, along the pencil. It rolled under the bed, no doubt, thought Octavia.

Vinyl made a sound like that of a buzzer going off before adding, “Wroooooong.”

Octavia tried to respond but stopped when she felt Vinyl’s hands move to the straps of her dress. “Don’t you da-” and down they went, revealing a pair of breasts no more than a C cup in size. Her face went red, and she quickly covered them with her arms. “Does your perversion know no bounds -- or perhaps the bigger question, do you get the concept of personal space!” Per usual, her nose wrinkle, openly displaying her contempt at being violated.

“Whatcha doing?” Vinyl asked, either oblivious to Octavia’s anger or simply not caring. Octavia was sure that it was the latter. The woman had blue hair, dyed in two different shades of the color,  and was hardly seen without a pair of purple sunglasses -- which looked ridiculous in Octavia’s personal opinion -- covering her magenta eyes. She also had elongated, pointed ears, as was common among magic users.

“What I’m doing is being a musician who actually works on her music, unlike present company. Now, would you ever so kindly, TURN AROUND!” She refused to move her arms from over her chest while being looked at.

“Aww, but I like the way they look. Just what I’d want from my future girlfriend.”

“Have you been reading those godawful fanfics from our fans again?” Some of them are downright disturbing. I am not a vampire futa, whatever the ever loving hell a futa even is. Vinyl had suggest that she look up the term but Octavia flat out refused.

“Oh come on, like you can resist my magnetism. I am THE DJ Pon3, star and lady killer extraordinaire,” she triumphantly declared, puffing out her chest and holding her head high in mock arrogance.

While letting Vinyl inflate her already enlarged ego, Octavia pulled up her dress and covered her breasts. “Now, other than to just to continue being the bane of my existence, is there a reason you’re here?”

Scratch answered flatly, “I was bored.”

“Work on your music, go hang out with your club friends, do anything that doesn’t involve me.”

“But... but...” She pouted and lowered her glasses, giving a pitiful lost puppy expression. “You’re my friend, aren’t you?”

Vinyl always did this. Every time Octavia scolded her, the waterworks came out. Worst part about it is that it usually worked. “Vinyl, of course I am.” Celestia knows I would have kicked you out ages ago if I wasn’t. For all her faults, and there were plenty, Vinyl wasn’t a bad friend, and the two had known each other since their childhood. Much like now most of that time was spent intentionally antagonizing one another, which they soon found out was quite fun.

The moment the words left Octavia’s mouth, Vinyl switched back to her cocky grin. “Good. Besides, I’m here to help you.”

“And just how, pray tell, can you help me write this set?”

“I’m here to help you stop writing. Octy, you’ve been at it for hours. Literally hours.”

Octavia curiously looked at the clock. She had started at eleven in the morning and the current time read 5:15. “It appears you were right, for once.”

“You need to take breaks or I swear, your brain is just going leak out as musical notes. That’d... actually be kinda cool to see.” She tapped her chin, thinking of the image.

“So, my slacking savoir, do you have any ideas?”

‘We could go t-”

“If you say the club, I shall grab my pillow and beat you senseless. Again.” Overly loud music, seizure inducing lights, overpriced alcohol, the smell of sweat, and the headache that always came later was most certainly not her idea of a fun or taking a break.

“Geez, fine, be a buzzkill. You should change out of those stuffy clothes once in awhile. I think they’re cutting off blood to your fun gland.”

“You know damn well there’s no such thing as a ‘fun gland’.”

“Is to.”

“Is... I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.” Octavia rubbed her temple, chastising herself for getting duped into the childish argument. “Just come up with something that isn’t going to a club.”

Vinyl ran her hand across Octavia’s side. “Maybe if you actually wore a color other than grey for once, you’d loosen up.”

“Dear Vinyl, have you ever heard, those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?”

“Nope.”

Octavia rolled her eyes. “Why am I not surprised. One who has a fashion sense like yours -- primarily built around clashing, garish colors, designed purely to get attention -- should not criticize the fashion sense of others.”

“Hey, I look good and you know it!” said Vinyl, waving a hand over her body as if it were some prize. It was true that her body wasn’t half bad, fairly attractive by most standards, but Octavia couldn’t see why anyone would like the clothing on it.

Octavia sized her up, imagining what should could look like. “You might look good with a makeover. Perhaps there’s even a true lady under that unkempt club girl.”

“As if. This woman,” she pointed to herself with both thumbs, “would never look like one of those fru fru nobles. You can take the girl out of the club, but you can’t take the club out of the girl. And what about you?”

Octavia arched her eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yes you. I bet I could have you looking like a true DJ if gave me the chance.”

“Ha. Tis a laugh. I would never look like some party floozy.”

Vinyl leaned close, staring her in the eyes. “How much you wanna bet on that, princess?”

“Oh, so you want to make this interesting, huh? A competition?”

“Yep. If you can make me look like a,” she made a gag noise, “proper lady, I’ll do something for you. BUT, if I can make you pass for a DJ, you do something for me. What do you say? Willing to do something interesting for a change?”

Her pride demanded that she not back from any challenge set by Vinyl. Whatever she could do, Octavia could do better. “You’re on,” she growled, extended her hand and shaking Vinyl’s. Octavia stood and went to her dresser, looking through it for clothes that could fit Vinyl. “Stand and strip,” she called back.

“Why Octavia, so forward,” she joked. “I’m not the type of girl to strip for a partner right away.”

“Yes you are, and that isn’t what this is about.” She grabbed a conservative grey skirt, that went to the knees. A good start, now for a matching top. From behind came the sound of clothes hitting the floor. Of course she wouldn’t even fold them before dropping them.

“Alright Miss Bossy but I’m keeping the panties on.”

After finding a good top -- a white, button up t-shirt -- Octavia turned. Standing there, at the foot of her bed, was the DJ wearing only a pair of pink panties with a unicorn laying in a way that it looked like a heart on the sides. “Wow, I actually didn’t expect that from you.”

“All my boxers are dirty, ok.” she said, and quickly looked away.

“But of course. You needn’t worry, I’ll keep your secret safe.” Though she tried to say it with a straight face, Octavia couldn’t hide the little grin.

“Smug little...”

“Dress,” commanded Octavia as she tossed the clothes to Vinyl. “You do know how to work buttons, right.”

As she was pulling up the skirt -- trying to quickly hide her panties, no doubt -- Vinyl held up her hand in a rude gesture that involved her middle finger.

“Classy.”

She got on the shirt quickly, and then Octavia searched her closet for the next piece of the ensemble. “No, no, no, got it.” She pulled out a jacket with a long tail in the back.

“Isn’t that what you wear when performing?” asked Vinyl, looking over her shoulder.

“Oftentimes, yes.” Octavia turned and handed it to her roommate, who quickly put it on.

Vinyl went to Octavia’s full sized mirror, turning one way in front of it and then the other. “Great, I look like a girl trying on her grandmother’s clothes. What’s next, tan stockings?”

“Yes.” Octavia threw two of them at Vinyl. “And be careful. I don’t want them to get holes. Celestia knows when the last time you trimmed your toe nails.”

“I’ll have you know I trimmed my toe nails last year.” She stuck out her tongue at Octavia.

Octavia grimaced. “Disgusting. Just focus on putting them on while I find the last pieces of clothing needed.”

As she looked through the top drawer, she heard an, “Oops.” Octavia spun around to see that Vinyl had them on and was innocently smiling at her.

“Not funny.”

“Yes it was.”

“No i-I’m not going to get into that kind of argument with you.” She huffed, trying to keep her cool. “Tie or bowtie.”

“Neither.”

“Wrong choice, try again.”

“I’ll take a tie, at least then I’ll look like I come from this century.”

Octavia angrily squinted at Vinyl. “Do not insult bowties. They are refined and subtle, two things you know nothing about. Take your tie.”

Vinyl caught the tie after it was thrown to her. “Ok, now what do I do with it?”

“You know Vinyl, sometimes it is very hard to remember that you’re the natural born noble one between us.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“I’ll tie it for you at the end. Just set it down for now.” It’s like I’m dealing with a child.

“These should fit you. I don’t think your feet are any bigger than mine.” Octavia picked up a pair of plain, white high heels. “Right?”

Scratch hissed at them.

“Have you even worn heels before?”

“Not since I was ten, and I wanted to keep it that way.”

Again, I shouldn’t be surprised by that. “Well, if you want to lose the bet, you can refuse...”

“Not by the hairs of your chinny chin chin.”

“My chin does not have hairs.”

“Does too.”

“Doe-Stop that!” She sat the shoes down in Vinyl’s lap. “On, now.”

“Fiiiiiiine.” With only a few more grumbles, the shoes were on her feet. “Is it time to deal with this thing?” she asked, holding up the tie.

“Just let me grab something first.” Octavia picked up her brush and walked towards Vinyl.

“Hey now, no one said anything about the hair.” Vinyl covered hers with her hands.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a brush.”

“My hair is part of my image as a party animal.”

Octavia wouldn’t disagree with that. It was short for a woman, a little under shoulder length, and completely untamed, sticking up in random places.

“The hair is part of the look, so no makeover is complete without doing it. Now, quit whining and hold still.” Octavia got onto the bed and crawled around to Vinyl Scratch’s back. Another whine came from her, resulting in Octavia bopping her on the head with said brush. “I said quit it. I swear you’re more touchy about your hair than most models I know.” It didn’t take long to encounter knots -- in fact it was with the first stroke.

“Ow ow ow, Octavia!”

“Well if you brushed it yourself, you wouldn’t be having this problem.” Eventually the hair relented to Octavia’s onslaught and laid smooth. Next, she brushed it to make the hair lay back, out of Vinyl’s face in a windswept style. Then, as promised, she tied on the tie. Moving in front of Vinyl Scratch, Octavia appraised her work. “I’m... actually impressed. You look like a proper young lady, for once.”

“I-I do not! That’s a lie and you are a liar for saying it,” responded Vinyl, defiantely.

“See for yourself.” She motioned to the mirror.

Vinyl stood and walked past her to see her reflection. “That’s... that’s not me.” Oddly, the normal harsh tones of her voice settled down with that statement.

“You’re right, it isn’t you. Which is a shame since it’s a much nicer look.”

Vinyl just stared at her reflection, her eyes going blank for a split second, followed by her holding her head.

“Vinyl, are you alright?” This kind of reaction was not like Vinyl, and Octavia actually grew worried for her.

Vinyl’s posture straightened, erasing her trademark slouch. “Why, whatever could be wrong, Octavia?”

“Oh, I get it. You’re playing another joke on me, aren’t you? Well guess what, Vinyl, I’m not falling for it.”

“Octavia, you know I hate it when you shorten my name, and I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re going on about.” She looked back to the mirror, brushing aside a stray hair that had fallen in her face. “Perfect.”

“Whatever.” She’s mocking me, isn’t she? Hmph! I do not sound like that. “I believe it is your turn to make me look like a DJ or the like.”

“Why in heaven would you ever want to look like that.” To Octavia’s surprise, Vinyl Scratch -- because Celestia forbid you shorten her name -- made the idea sound abhorrent. “It’s downright ludicrous for a woman of your status to want to dress that way.”

“I’m not going to lose this bet by backing out of the makeover. If that’s your game, you can just forget it.”

Vinyl Scratch tsked. “Well, Octavia, you let your pride get the best of you too often. You should learn to handle situations more like a proper lady.”

“More like a... What? Oh, as if you know anything about being a proper lady.”

“I happen to come from a great bloodline, unlike some women in this room, and was raised with class.”

“H-how dare you.” Octavia stomped her foot. “I may not have been raised in a mansion, but that does not mean my family didn’t teach me about respect and manners.”

Vinyl snickered. “Octavia, it’s so much fun to get you riled up at times.” She waved off Octavia’s glare. “Yes, of course you’ll change the way you dress. It isn’t right for a person to back out of an agreed competition. Now then, let’s go to the other room and see what’ll look well on you.”

***

A little later they were in Vinyl Scratch’s room and Octavia down to her underwear. “Please hurry, I don’t like being in here dressed like this.”

“Patience is a virtue you know. Besides, I believe I found what’s first.” Vinyl Scratch held up a pair of white, baggy pants with tons of pockets and a blue musical note on the hips.

Octavia slid them on. “I will give your style one compliment, the pockets are more practical than a purse.” Vinyl scratch threw her a small tank top next. “Is this a tank top or a sports bra?” Once on, it did very little to cover her stomach, or her cleavage. “So, I’m to walk around half naked, am I?”

“You are the one that wanted to look the role. What about this?” Vinyl Scratch floated over a jacket to Octavia, white on the outside and blue on the inside.

“I think I’m sensing a pattern here.”

“Well, they do go together, do they not?”

“I suppose.” She put on the jacket, but didn’t zip it up, so it only hung from her shoulders.

“Let’s see, combat boots, temporary tattoo, and hair dye. That should be the last touch needed.”

“D-dye?” The word took the air from her lungs. “No! You are not dying my hair.”

“To quote my closest friend, ‘The hair is part of the look, so no makeover is complete without doing it. Now, quit whining and hold still.’”

***

After the dying and the rinsing, Octavia had a purple fringe, same shade as her eyes. Also, a fresh new design on her stomach, a sound wave. Vinyl Scratch also took the liberty of doing her makeup, blue lipstick and eyeshadow. “I hate you.”

“You truly are starting to look like a club DJ now. As though you were about to pump out, er, what are called?” She waved her hand, looking for the right words.” Phat beats or some such?”

“You know, you can quit the act now.”

“What act are you going on about?”

She never knows when enough was enough with a joke. “Nevermind.” It is not worth arguing about. “Are we done?”

“I believe so. Go ahead and take a look.”

Octavia stood in front of Vinyl Scratch’s mirror, reviewing what her roommate did to her. It could be worse. The colors at least match pretty well. I look... kinda hot. A big grin stretched across her face. “You’re wrong.”

“What about?”

“It’s not done yet.” Octavia grabbed a pair of Vinyl Scratch’s sunglasses and put them on. Not the kind that would fully cover her eyes -- it’d be criminal to cover eyes as nice as mine -- but a pair of thin ones with purple lenses. “You can call me, DJ Classic.”

“Very well then, Miss Classic, what now?”

“Now, we find something fun to do.”

“Have you already forgotten your schedule?” Vinyl pointed to a calendar on the wall a time stamped on the current date. “You have set.”

“Crap! I forgot all about it. If we hurry, we should be able to make it.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. You wouldn’t think of missing one of my performances, would you?” Octavia pouted.

“You’re going to keep doing that until I agree aren’t you?”

Octavia kept pouting, without giving any verbal response.

“Ugh, fine! Just stop doing that.”

“Hey Scratch?”

“Don’t call me that.”

Octavia walked to Vinyl Scratch's side and smacked her ass. “Maybe you should take the stick out once in awhile,” ending it with a wink.

“Uncouth cur.”

“And you love every moment of it.”

***

The Club! -- Octavia wasn’t sure if that was the laziest name she had ever heard, or the best -- was busy, filled with dancing people. In the back was a raised stage with a turntable, mic, and various other supplies for the DJs. “I’m home,” said Octavia.

“Your home looks li-Oof! Hey!” Her insult was cut off by a smack to her arm.

“No insulting The Club while we’re here. Go get a drink, you’ll feel better.”

“Well, that beats doing that type of dancing.” Vinyl walked away, heading over to the bar along the side wall.

Octavia walked up to the DJ booth. “Classic!” called out the woman currently working it. “Nearly late again. The boss owes me ten bits.”

“What was the bet?”

“He swore there was no way you’d make it on time again. That’s what, twice in a row?”

“New record for me.” They high fived as the woman stepped down and Classic took her spot, to much elation. She tapped the mic. “Hello ladies and gentlemen! Oh wait, we don’t have any of those, do we?” Another cheer. “Let’s kick this party into another gear!” Her music started. Rather than the typical techno or dubstep, her music was a combination of up tempo classical pieces, mixed with symphonic guitar, and all kept at a quick pace.

***

A number of hours later, a worn out, sweaty Octavia made her way over to Vinyl, who was still nursing a bottle of whiskey. “Yo.”

“I’ve got to give you some credit Octavia. At least your music has a touch of originality to it. More than I can say for most music played here.”

If Octavia wasn’t going to have a response, it was stopped by a big yawn.

“You didn’t get much sleep last night, did you?”

“Sleep is for the weak.” Her head slump forward. “Huh, whaza?”

“I think it’s time to get you home.” Vinyl Scratch paid off the tab and grabbed Octavia’s shoulder. “Now.”

“Yes mom.”

“Don’t call me that.”

As Octavia stood she stumbled forward, coming to a rest up against Vinyl. “And I may have done some drinking during the rest breaks.”

“Drunk and tired, just great.” The pair walked out of The Club with Octavia leaning on Vinyl the whole way home.

***

“Be it ever so humble,” commented Vinyl as she walked Octavia into their home and then to Octavia’s room. “This is your stop. Think you can make it to your bed?”

“Maybe, but I’d rather keep leaning against you,” came a slurred response.

“It’s like dealing with a child.”

“Hm, no it’s not.”

“Yes i-Ugh, must you keep doing that?”

Octavia giggled. Not many things were more fun to her than getting under Miss Prissy Pant’s skin.

“Fine, I’ll walk you to your bed but then, you’re on your own.”

“...deal.”

By walking her to her bed, Vinyl did just that, but stopped the moment they were by the bed, letting Octavia flop face first on it. “Good night.”

“W-wait,” said Octavia as she turned over to her back. “Could you come here for a second?”

“Can’t it wait until morning?”

“No.”

Vinyl got closer and leaned over Octavia. “Speak then.”

Octavia reached up, brushing back Vinyl’s hair. “This might just be the alcohol talking, but you’re fucking awesome, you know that?”

“I... what?” A pink tint started to take over Vinyl’s cheeks.

“I’m being completely serious too. You always take care of me like this. You’re always there for me.”

“It’s no problem, really.”

“Don’t do that. It’s not just a small thing. I mean it when I joke around about wanting you or a girl like you as my girlfriend. You’re just, the best friend I’ve ever had.”

“Wow... I didn’t think that I really meant that much  to you.”

With her hand still raised, Octavia pulled Vinyl close, kissing her lips. Vinyl gasped at first, but then returned her friend’s love. Finally breaking it, “That was... I don’t know what to say.”

“Heh, you totally just kissed a girl a liked it.”

“Oh hush you.” Vinyl laid down next to her, holding the drunken DJ close.

***

“Just a slight alteration to your appearance, and your entire world can change. Never forget that folks,” said Discord. “Those two learned the hard way that the clothes make the man, or woman in their case. And keep in mind, while changes come and go, some like to stay around. Permanently.”

“Well, which was it?” came a voice sounding exactly like Discord’s from his left hand, which was now being worked like a mouth.

“Lefty, I told you not to pop up while we were recording. Why can’t you be more like righty?”

“Sorry, but I got to know.”

“It’s better for the audience to guess. It creates suspense.”

“I disagree. Open endings is the tool of lazy authors who can’t wrap up loose ends. So, tell me.”

“Ugh, fine. They walk a mile in each other’s shoes, literally. After walking one mile, they returned to normal. Happy now? And to our readers, yes they become a couple, now go squee about your favorite ship.”

“Aww, I like happy endings.” Lefty went away.

“And now it’s time to end this tale. Join us next time, or maybe, I’ll make a story out of you.” He laughed as the world fades to black.