There he stood, at the outskirts of town. He looked dramatically into the distance, his cape fluttering in the light breeze, as the sun rose above the horizon and its rays kissed his scaled cheeks like the mother he had been gifted with since birth. Birds grew silent as they watched the stranger, a stranger with an aura of mystery to him. He was mysterious, for he was wearing a mask that covered his mouth and had a cape. It was mysterious, and it was cool. It’s more fun that way.
“Hey mister, whatcha doing?” a foal asked, approaching the stranger from his nearby home. He cocked his head and sucked a hoof. “Your cape looks funny.”
The stranger moved to reply.
“Now now, let’s move away from the creepy stranger,” the foal’s mother said as she picked up her son and started to canter away. The stranger stared and watched them leave, having not said a word. Because he was cool like that.
As the stranger strutted through Ponyville, he basked in the stares of ponies (mostly mares) admiring his ragged cape and mysterious attire. They stared at his large (but slightly flabby) muscles, his sharp (yet childlike) eyes, and his fashionable (and tattered) clothes. One mare fainted, most likely due to his manly aura, as opposed to his scent after not bathing for fourteen months. Yeah, his manliness. It was so his manliness.
He continued down his path until something blocked him. A pink something, or rather somepony. Pinkie Pie, party pony extraordinaire, blinked at the stranger as she took in his manly, mysterious aura with awe painted on her face. Awe, if it were icing and sprinkles, but awe nonetheless. It’s cooler like that.
“Hi! Welcome to Ponyville!” Pinkie Pie smiled, not recognizing the stranger. Mostly because strangers are, well, strangers, but also because he wore a mask. Masks do that, you know. Hiding identities and stuff. Like spies. Except… cooler.
The stranger whisked out a pair of sunglasses and rested them on the bridge of his nose. “You may not recognize me, Miss Pie, but I have returned,” he said, pushing the glasses down until they reached the perfect angle. Sunlight reflected off the lens and shone in Pinkie Pie’s eyes, and it was cool.
“Returned from what?” she asked, cocking her head.
“From my traini—”
“Was it a party? OH! Did you, like, totally hit a gym with other dorky dudes and get super buff or something? No, wait, you’re only kinda buff. Heck, you’re still kinda flabby. Look! It’s flopping on my hooves!”
“Stop that!” the stranger cried, prying the mare off as she continued to fondle his belly. It was weird and creepy, but at least it showed that the mares couldn’t keep their hooves off. Pinkie Pie totally counted for all the mares because she was female, and there was no way her eccentric personality would be accounted for as some outlier. Shut up. It’s more fun that way.
The stranger pushed her away and struck a dramatic pose, showing off his expensive sunglasses once more. He lowered his gaze to the ground. “I have, in fact, trained. It was hard, grueling, but I have returned now as a man! I am—”
“Spike,” Pinkie Pie said, fanning herself off. “Can we hurry this up? I have to bake some cupcakes in the bakery and they aren’t going to bake themselves! Though, if they did, that would be pretty cool…” Pinkie Pie rubbed her chin. “Oh, there’s the bell! ByeSpikeIgottago!”
Poof!
Spike took off his glasses and blinked at the pony-shaped dust cloud left behind by Pinkie Pie’s exit. So much for his dramatic entrance. Maybe Rainbow Dash would steal his thunder next. He whipped out the checklist from his side pouch and reviewed it.
Become badass: check?
Dramatic entrance: check.
Introduction with dramatic flair: check.
Beat up some guys:
Make every mare fall in love with me:
Win over love of my life:
Pick up a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread from the market:
Get Twilight to admit I’m cooler than she is:
???:
Profit:
He thought for a moment, rubbing his chin with the pencil’s eraser, thinking back to his dramatic entrance. Then he added:
Shave this ridiculous mustache:
“Oh, Spike,” Pinkie Pie said as she zipped back to his side. “You dropped this earlier.” She shoved a foreign object into his claw and zipped away before he could even flinch. He shook his head and lifted the claw to his sight, only to sigh and drop it.
“Why did Iron Will convince me to buy a fedora?” Spike said, resting his hand on his forehead. “And I just paid off the lease for the van, too.”
Just as he began angsting about his mysterious past yet to be revealed, sounds of shouting emanated from the marketplace. Spike shook thoughts of visiting his sister and alerting her to his current existence in their heavenly abode of weekly chaos (Saturdays, oddly enough) and began sprinting toward the market. Sounds of banging and clanging filled the air with the gasps of winded ponies. Spike furrowed his brow and smirked. Sounds like a fight! Now’s my chance!
He made it to the entrance and… skidded to a stop.
It was an effigy. An effigy of a stallion stood in the middle of the marketplace, propped onto a stake driven to the ground. Ponies, consumers and vendors alike, fainted the moment they woke up to stare back at it. A few dropped the food and dishes they held, creating a loud din.
Spike facepalmed and began walking toward the effigy. This was ridiculous, and he was going to put an end to it.
“Wait, sir!” a filly grabbed onto his leg to slow him. She looked up at him with large, blue eyes. “You can’t fight against the monster! It’s kind of evil, and it will slightly hurt you if you try to stop it!”
Spike sighed and pried the filly off. He looked back to the effigy, a strange feeling inflating in his chest. It was… his ego. “Good. Because I happen to be” —he put on his sunglasses— “slightly badass.” A mare nearby fainted as he said this, most likely due to the effigy, but he blamed it on his sheer badassness because he kind of needed the confidence boost.
He stomped toward the effigy and stopped only a breath’s length away. He stared at the woven straw and sticks. It was creepy, yes, but nothing more. Except evil. Spike hated evil. But he liked punching it.
He poked it.
It fell over.
“YAY!” the crowd of ponies cheered as they woke up and swarmed over him. The crowd picked him up and began to chant his name. They began to move out of the market—
“Wait, where are we going?” a stallion asked, scratching his mane. “Pinkie Pie isn’t here, so…”
“How about Carousel Boutique?” Spike suggested, updating his checklist with a pencil. “And, er, if you wouldn’t mind… does anypony have milk and bread while I’m here?”
Spike opened, no, Spike slammed the door open to Carousel Boutique. It had been a year since he had laid a claw inside the old haunt, a year spent training his body and mind in the mountains with the mountain goats and Iron Will. A year spent… becoming a man.
“Let’s get down to business,” Spike muttered as he fumbled for a lightswitch. His claw finally grasped it, and when he flicked it on, the boutique presented itself to him. The main chamber was empty, nothing except a mirror and a couch in the middle of the room was seen. Not a table, spool, or piece of fabric was seen.
Spike approached the mirror, with the couch between him and his destination, and his reflection appeared. He was taller, less pudgy, and admittedly handsome. He wasn’t badass quite yet, but he was getting there. And it showed.
“Well hello, darling,” a seductive voiced cooed from the couch. Spike gulped, realizing the couch covered the bottom half of the reflection, but revealed the most of his new body. The voice confirmed his thoughts, and revealed the presence of a familiar mare.
“Hello, R-Rarity,” Spike said, trying to keep his cool and sound mysterious. Unfortunately, he stuttered and somehow managed to come across as dorky. Again. The mare chuckled.
“It seems you know my name,” she said, chuckling. “Many know my name, and have sought my hoof, but never have I met a suitor with such… stature. Come here, so I shall know your embrace for when the final candle dies, and the darkness consumes all.”
Spike gulped, his face turning red at Rarity’s forwardness. Her words did nothing but compel him against his will, forcing him to bend over the couch and stare at the beautiful mare below. She wore black lingerie, but her appearance had not changed in the slightest. So… beautiful….
He bent down, a single claw stroking her cheek, as her horn glowed and lowered his mask…
“Ew ew, go away!” Rarity cried as she shoved him away in a blast of magic. She summoned a pillow with magic and used it to cover her less-than-usually-exposed body as Spike picked himself up from the ground. “Spikey-Wikey! What in Equestria has gotten into you for you to invade a lady’s home and defile her?!”
“B-but…” Spike stuttered, unable to find the words. He cocked his head and pondered a response. “Er, I became kinda badass and wanted to win you over?”
Rarity sighed and facehoofed. “Darling, that’s not how it works. Besides, I was already expecting—”
“Well this is awkward,” Applejack said as she walked into the boutique, wearing a green mask and cape with her usual stetson. She nodded toward Spike. “Nice abs. Ya been workin’ out?
“Yeah, that’s why I was, well ya know, gone for an entire year?” Spike answered, scratching his head. “Nice mask, though. It really brings out your eyes.”
“I know, right? I picked it out!” Rarity said, her eyes sparkling. She grinned at Spike with her hooves on her cheek. “Now, get out before we use the rope to throw you out!” she threatened, never dropping the smile.
Spike, heeding the wise advice of his common sense, high-tailed it out of there.
“Rough day, huh?” Twilight said, moving the pots and pans in the kitchen with magic to prepare to cook. Spike sat at the table, fiddling with a spoon, and stared at Twilight’s back. Her tail swished back and forth as she stood on her hind legs, reaching for the measuring cup on the top shelf. A dangerous thought entered Spike’s mind.
“You know…” Spike said, twiddling his thumbs. “I became a man while I was gone…”
“Uhuh,” Twilight said, crouching low to pick up a fallen spoon.
“And you’ve really become a mare...”
“Uhuh…”
“Maybe we could—”
“Don’t. Even. Think. About. It.” Twilight glared at him, her eyes a hair-length away from his face, holding a knife with magic to his chin.
“Okay,” Spike squeaked.
Not quite there yet…
