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"I've got something to say to you, mister!" An angry, familiar voice echoes across the courtyard. I turn my head towards the guards at my side, who now spring forward to the battlement, spears aimed down at the intruder.

"Twily!" I shouts out, an excited response. But how did I know it was her?

But this is not my voice. No... this is Shining Armor's voice. The guards at my side, they're ponies. Grey unicorns, the typical profile of a Canterlot royal guard. As I start running down the stairs, the pers-- pony in front of me is none other than Twilight Sparkle. Without her wings. She's fixated right onto me with a death stare. She looks absolutely pissed, and this body is carrying me closer to her.

"Aah, I've missed you, kid. How was the train ride?" The words come from my throat, but the voice is Shining Armor's again. I can feel the vibrations in my neck, as if the words were my own, but that voice is far from it. It's alien. It's not mine. It's irritating me that it's not my voice. I try to force something out of my throat, but I can't even so much as take a breath.

My body starts moving of its own accord again, and I can see my hoof lift up to cup Twilight's cheek. "I--"

My hoof?

I don't have time to reply; her face recoils from my touch, and she immediately starts shouting right at me, staring right into my eyes.

"How dare you not tell me in person that you were getting married. I'm your sister for pony's sake!" Her head snaps to the side, turning that angry gaze towards the ground.

"It's not my fault!" Shining's words come reflexively from my brain, holding a hoof out to his sister. This whole sensation is alien. I know it's not my body, but it feels just like my body. "Princess Celestia has requested a major increase in security." I walk next to Twilight, pointing a hoof behind her. "Didn't you see all the guards at the train station?"

I can't even think anymore; it's like Shining Armor has taken over my mind. The words flowed naturally from my mind, through my mouth, as if they were my own.

"Yeah, there's a big wedding coming up," Twilight snaps back and trots off, her back towards me the entire time she speaks. "Maybe you've heard about it?"

I trot back to her. As Shining Armor. All four limbs, each hoof striking the cobblestone in a precisely flowing pattern. This sensation so alien to me, performed as if I've been walking like a horse my entire life.

"It has nothing to do with the wedding. A threat has been made against Canterlot," I call out after her. Once in front of Twilight, I turn to face her, and I can see the anger melting away. That telltale realization that maybe she was wrong about what she thought of this. Her eyes look up to mine, willing to give me a chance.

"We don't know who's responsible for it, but Princess Celestia asked that I help provide--" I wince, a throbbing pain near the center of my forehead. My horn hurts? "--additional protection." I can't tell if Shining Armor can feel the pain, as he's moving the body in close to his sister, his hoof lifting up her chin, nothing wrong on his features.

"This... you need to see," he says, gently lowering her head, before stepping back away from the battlements. As Shining Armor stands this body upright and tall, horn held high, there's a sudden, splitting pain in the front of my forehead. I can see the pink glow of the unicorn's magic just above my head, slowly flooding my vision from the top as this extreme, pounding headache increases in tempo, blacking out my vision from the bottom.

As sparks fly from the top of his head, the intense pink light blends with the creeping darkness, as the rapid-fire pulsing in my brain increase. When the pace blends into one solid blur of pain, the whirring sounds of unicorn magic gives way to a cicada-like buzzing noise that drills into my ears. Colors drain from what little I can see, and finally, the walls of Canterlot disappear from view, leaving me in an empty darkness.

***

Sunday, October 11, 2020

I wake up gasping for air, my bedsheets stuck to my body drenched in sweat. I somehow ended up in bed last night. I can still hear the buzzing sound, and it's only after a minute that I understand it's source: my alarm.

6:34 AM

Too fucking early for anyone to wake up on a Sunday. I reach out for my phone, mashing the side buttons that will squelch the noise.

It doesn't stop.

Only then do I realize that my phone isn't making the noise. 'ALARM SILENCED AFTER 15 MINUTES'. Then... where the fuck is that buzzing noise coming from? I reach up and feel my forehead. It's burning up, throbbing with each heartbeat, my body now becoming aware of the headache that was blasting me in my dreams.

It doesn't stop.

It pains me to look at the bright display of my smartphone, but I double-check to confirm. Alarm silenced. 6:35AM. A half-hour after I wanted to wake up. This late, I wouldn't even have time to rinse off in the shower without being late for work, not that this massive migraine would let me work. I slide my thumb across the screen, and quickly pull up my manager in the phonebook.

She answers on the second right, her sharp, curt tone immediately responding, "Don't even think about calling in sick this morning."

Fuck. The one day I actually need to call in sick, and I get this? "Boss, you don't understand..." Whatever is causing this migraine is fucking with my throat; it's so raspy it sounds like I had been chain-smoking for years. Smoking... I remember smoking a few bowls, and falling asleep... watching My Little Pony. My hand moves to rub at my forehead, hot and sweaty. Was it what I smoked that's causing this? Was it treated with something?

"God damn, you sound like shit," she replies, the faintest tone of sympathy in her voice. "Which makes me feel even worse to tell you that you have to come in. We had an incident this weekend. Gotta give a statement and all that shit. This is straight from corporate."

"Uhngggh..." is my unintelligible response. I couldn't even shake my head at this, that is how much it pained me right now. I got the general idea of what she had said; the loud buzzing drowned out her voice when she lost that dominating tone.

"Look, I'll give you an hour. Be here by 8. Talk for a little bit, and you can go home and puke yourself to death all you want, okay?" Her sarcastic compassion can't even force a smile from me this morning.

I pick up the phone and start moving towards the bathroom. "Right, thanks boss..." tapping my thumb to end the call.

My apartment is nothing special. It's a cheap studio in the middle of the less affluent part of downtown, about the best a single wage worker can afford if he wants to be able to buy food. I've managed to snag a full-time spot at the big box store working in their Shipping and Receiving section. A few bucks above minimum wage, some basic benefits, and management that doesn't make me want to hang myself. I work during the mornings, getting things ready for the day, and right after work I take a full load of college courses during the evening.

I was stuck in the cycle. I wake up, go to work, go to class, come home, and do my homework. By that point, I'm exhausted and pass out. I work six days a week to get a little extra money, but I didn't have class on the weekend. When I took up this schedule, I had always made it a point to have Saturday as my day off. I had to get up early every morning anyhow, and there was always that incentive to wake up early on a Saturday and catch those beautiful cartoon ponies.

I get the water in the shower going and step inside. The cold jolts me awake, and the spike in blood flow has me doubled-over against the wall, holding my head. The pain was something I've never felt before, as if someone hit me with a ball-point hammer in the forehead, throbbing with every heartbeat. And that damned buzzing sound, loud enough to drown out the sound of the shower running, only magnified it. I grab the bottle of body wash and squirt a pile onto my back, letting the water carry it down my body. This was the best I could do.

The bathroom in the apartment is tiny enough, that I'm able to reach out from the shower and open the medicine cabinet above the sink. I grab a bottle of tylenol and shut the door, looking back at my reflection in the mirror.

I look horrible. My pupils are dilated, and my face... my entire body was pale. I have never had this happen before. There must have been something laced into the weed I smoked last night; I couldn't get this sick all of a sudden. I spent the entire day here yesterday, and I don't remember seeing anyone who looked... like this... on Friday. "Fuck," whispers from my lips. I lean back into the shower, cupping some water, and downing a small handful of pills. If this didn't make things any better, I would end up in the hospital anyways.

---

I'm out the door around 7:15. I was able to get down some toast and water, and the six or so tylenol had taken the edge off the pain in my head. What I was most thankful for, was the buzz that accompanied the headache subsided, now the faintest white noise. If I didn't focus on any of it, I almost felt normal.

Living where I do, mass transit is the only way to get around downtown; fighting buses on narrow one-way streets is something you only see tourists do. The one good thing about where I live, is that the rail car system has a stop right outside my complex. I can sit and ride for about 20 minutes and it'll take me right past where I work. Annual passes are pretty cheap, and I won't even kid myself: I couldn't afford car payments and insurance on this paycheck.

I get up as the rail car hits my stop. The driver scowls, "Sure hope you ain't contagious," his arm swinging the door handle. When I step off I keep walking forward, across the parking lot to the big superstore. The parking lot is mostly empty; it doesn't open for another 2 hours. But I can spot that there are more cars than usual: several of them I recognize from the night shift. Every single person who works the day shift must be in today too. On a Sunday?

The mystery is revealed inside once I enter my boss's office. She looks up from a stack of papers, and immediate recoils back several inches.

"Holy shit, you weren't bullshitting me on the phone. You look awful." She gives a noticeable frown, rotating away from you to reach into a large packing box.

I respond with a large sigh, "I told you. Now what's going on? You never have this many people here on a Sunday morning. It's not even the holidays yet." I clear my throat with a cough, but nothing comes up. The pills did nothing for the strange raspiness in my voice.

"Drug test. Straight from the top; anyone who doesn't show up today loses their job." I'm hit with a large plastic bag, holding it in my hands, I see a small plastic cup, with a screw-on lid. A typed label, complete with a bar code. And my name on it.

The door opens behind me, and I see one of my long-time coworkers. I've worked with this guy for several years here now. I wouldn't really call us friends, since we never hang out outside of work, but he was a nice enough guy to talk to while we worked the shipping center.

"Sup man," I offer to him in a greeting.

"Not much. You sound like shit. Party too hard this weekend?" his tone is happy enough, but the look on his face betrays a definitive sense of not wanting to be here right now.

"Sick. What's up?" cocking a brow to answer his look.

"He," my boss speaks up again, "will be monitoring you during your collection phase. Making sure you're actually peeing your own pee from your own penis."

The look we exchange each other says it all: Are you fucking kidding me?

My boss doesn't miss a beat, "You both are gonna suck it up and deal with it," dropping her authoritative tone, extending a sort of sympathy to us. "Someone got seriously hurt last night in shipping, over some improper storage. We're checking everyone who's been there in the past three days." She picks up a piece of paper, handing it to my coworker. "Think of this as a corporate bonding exercise." Turning to look at me, she sends me off with a nod. "Bring your goods here when you finish. He'll tell you what to do."

As soon as we're out of the office, he answers me before I even say anything. "Someone fucked up big. There's been police talking with these suits I've never seen here before. I don't know what happened, but they won't let any of us back there right now." He looks at me, a hint of excitement in his eyes, "They say there was blood all over the place."

"Cool, dude," I brush it off with my hand. "Sorry, I woke up with a giant headache. As soon as I pee in the cup, I get to go..." letting my words trail off. My eyes drop and I look forward as we walk towards the bathroom. There's a sudden sinking feeling in my stomach.

A hand pats my back quickly, "Well man, feel better. I'll make sure nothing crazy happens while you're gone."

"Yeah, thanks," I nod. If I wasn't pale already, I would've lost all the color in my face. Everything that's happened up until now has finally clicked, and the lurch in my stomach finally has an explanation.

I just smoked marijuana last night. I'm gonna pop positive on this test. I know I'm not involved in whatever happen, but if corporate is demanding the test, they're gonna fire me for sure. I push through the doorway to the men's room. I should have seen this coming this morning. There's always the slim chance that whatever I smoked wasn't all weed, but it's a real shot in the dark.

As we enter the bathroom, my coworker starts relaying a series of instructions about washing my hands and handling the cup. Most of it doesn't register, yet my body complies with the instructions nonetheless. I get up in front of the toilet, and with my member in one hand, the cup in the other, I relax and--

"DUDE," my coworker yells at me. "I told you, you gotta pull your pants down to like," he marks a spot just above his knees, "here. I know, it's totally gay, but my job's on the line if this isn't done by the book."

Aggravation seeps into my throat as I exhale, setting the cup down and throwing my pants down. They hit the floor; at this point I couldn't care less. I'm playing the lottery here in hoping that my sample is fucked up in transit. I take the cup back, and start to fill it up.

My coworker breaks the awkward silence, with a little laugh. "Nice one, you really went all out for the finale."

"Seriously?" I turn my head to him, the anger clear in my voice. He's pointing at me, but not at my junk. Rather, he's pointing at my ass, and I'm about ready to chuck this cup of piss at him, when I see what he's talking about.

There's a patchwork pattern of colors on the side of my ass. No... there was a cutie mark on my ass.

It covered the entire side of... well, my flank. Right now though, it looked like a faded temporary tattoo; large chunks of it were missing, and the colors were washed out. It would make sense if I had known it was there before I took a shower, but I don't remember putting anything on me. I didn't even own something like that.

There's no mistaking it though. The colors, the general shape. I have Shining Armor's shield on my ass.

"No way..." I turn my head to the other side. It's the same story, a washed-off tattoo rendition of Shining Armor's cutie mark. I'm not paying attention to what was going on in front of me, and I feel my piss overflowing the side of the cup, all over my hand.

"Fuck!" I step back, sloshing some onto the seat, and gingerly tip some of it out into the toilet.

My coworker is full-on laughing now, leaning against the bathroom door as I start cleaning myself up. He manages to get out instructions in between fits of spitting laughter, and I follow them to the best of my ability. My rising anger brought back the pain of my headache, and it takes a few minutes with me at the sink to regain composure and talk to my friend.

"I don't know, man. I was watching ponies last night, I smoked a few bowls..." I begin, a clean, washed hand rubbing my forehead as it shakes.

He's wearing an incredulous look on his face, "And you just peed in a cup after telling me that? What the hell were you smoking that made you decide to put a My Little Pony tattoo on your butt? I mean I get it was the grand finale and all, but I thought we were in agreement that the show... kinda sucked now?" He takes a few steps closer to look at the tattoo, and that twinge of self-consciousness kicks in. Another guy is getting really damn close to me with my pants down.

"Look, I don't remember. I smoked a few bowls, and passed out watching the wedding episode. I had some lucid fucking dream that I was a pony, and when I woke up I had this migraine that feels like someone is running a drill into my skill." I'm shaking with anger now. I've never experienced a bad drug trip before, and to have to do it with no real support is starting to wear on me.

He offers me a look of sheer pity, "That's pretty fucked up, if someone got into your house and did this pony stuff to you." His pity changes into worry. He actually seems to believe me, "What if they drugged you so you wouldn't wake up? Sounds like you took something other than the ganja."

I hadn't even thought of that. It sounded farfetched as hell, but what other explanation was there? The evidence was right there on my sides. "Ugh... I don't know..." I would have to look into it when I got home. I wasn't going to last much longer; all the stress of the morning is too much for the tylenol I took. "I'm gonna drop this off with the boss and go home. I'm gonna pass out if I don't lie down soon."

"You do that man. Don't mess with the seal on the cup and you're good to go," he hands me the paper he received in the office a few minutes ago. A form certifying that I, in fact, peed my own pee from my own penis into my own cup.

"Thanks, I'll see you when I feel better," I grab the bathroom door and hold it open for him.

"And, you know, best of luck on the drug test roulette. Sucks we got surprised like this." His eyes meet mine, and he flashes me a grin. That fucker, giving me a hard for smoking when Celestia knows what he was doing.

***

I dropped the sample off with my boss, omitting the fact that I had coated it in my piss. She asked if I noticed anything out of the ordinary on Friday. I told her I hadn't. We back and forth for a few more minutes, before I decide to head home. I've built up enough credit with her that she tells me to come back once I'm feeling better. It's another 20 minutes on the rail car back to my apartment. When I get back to my apartment, I notice there's a brown box on my doorstep. It takes all of my strength to bend over, sloshing my throbbing brain around in my skull, to pick up this box. It's got my name on it, but no return address. It's also Sunday, so someone must have hand-delivered it.

A frozen chill floods my spine at this thought, and I remember what my coworker was talking about in the bathroom. I look up and down the hall. It wasn't the best part of the neighborhood, crime was above average, but the lower-class ghettos aren't exactly full of rabid My Little Pony fans. I haven't been in touch with any of my "brony" friends since high school, and the only person who lives nearby is my coworker, and I'm sure he's not involved.

I can't shake this unnerving sensation like I'm being watched, and I'm sober as can be. This is legitimate paranoia. I inspect my door lock; no damage, or any signs of it being picked. There aren't any new dents or damage to the front of my door. It doesn't look like anyone has been here, except for myself. By now though, the pounding sensation against my forehead is taking its toll on me; if there was something to spot, I'm not sure if I would even notice it. Nor would the buzzing sound that has returned to my ears let me hear any sort of assailant sneaking up on me.

After unlocking and entering my apartment, the brown box is tossed onto my bed. The only light in the place comes from my clock, showing a bright green 8:27 AM. No time is wasted; I slide out of my shoes and pants, and toss my shirt over the bright LED display. With my apartment door shut and bolted, I dive into my bed, burying my head in the mess of sheets and pillows, as pain and unconsciousness takes over me.

***

"The burden of keeping Canterlot safe and secure rests squarely on my shoulders," I tell Twilight Sparkle as we climb the stairs into one of Canterlot's guard towers. "Staying focused on the task at hand has been my top priority."

I'm taken back to the image of Canterlot, although now I sit with Twilight Sparkle on top of a bridge spanning between two tall towers.

"Okay okay, I get it," she responds with a tone of defeat, leaning against the railing of the bridge. "You've got a really important job, defending all of Canterlot with a forcefield only you can conjure up. But still, how could you not tell me about something as big as your wedding?" She turns to me, a look of sadness expressed both on her face and in her voice. "Am I not that important to you any more?"

"Hey..." I begin, resting a hoof against her back, "you're my little sister. Of course you're important to me..." letting my hoof slide from her back. I stand upright, looking out over the courtyard, keeping Twilight in the corner of my eye. "But I'd understand if you didn't want to be my best mare now..." turning up the corner of my mouth, giving her a mischievous smile.

"You want me to be your best mare...?" she responds, but there's something off about her voice. It sounds distant to me. Even my own movements aren't my own anymore, as the body of Shining Armor plays out his part in the dialog. In this moment, I don't feel as attached to the stallion as I had in the dream I had last night. Our bodies move as they had in this episode of My Little Pony. I hadn't watched A Canterlot Wedding enough times to have every bit of dialog memorized, but I can tell that nothing seems out of place. It's following the script down to the letter.

Even now, Shining Armor is explaining to Twilight who Princess Mi Amore Cadenza is, and her face lights up on queue, as she reminisces about the times with her foalsitter. And right on queue, she begins hopping around me, singing her celebrations about her brother's marriage. As she makes one last lap around me, she bounces off towards one end of the bridge, running right into her.

Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Cadance.  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important," comes her voice, in an uncharacteristically cross tone, shooting a look straight at me.

This gaze though, pierces through the eyes of Shining Armor, and I can feel a sense of malevolence fixated on me. Not Shining Armor, but the human me. I'm brought back to reality. The reality that this dream is. The distance my mind had put between the events unfolding and my thoughts is eradicated the moment those purple eyes lock onto me.

Of course, this isn't truly Princess Cadance. It's Queen Chrysalis, in disguise as Cadance, if this dream is really playing out as the episode did. It's quickly confirmed, when Twilight steps forward and breaks into her rendition of Sunshine, Sunshine, Ladybugs Awake. On cue, Cadance brushes her off, walking straight past her and next to me.

My hoof raises to drape across her back, but unlike my movements throughout this dream, it feels as if something's pulled my arm into this position. There's the faintest tap of her horn against mine, and immediate the pulsating migraine that has plagued me this past day returns. The buzzing sound is noticeably absent, but I'm not given time to wonder about that, as the force that raised my arm is now drawing my own words from my throat.

"I've got to get back to my station," my head moved to look at the heartfallen Twilight in front of me. I can see the sadness, the anger on her features at being snubbed by her long time friend, but I'm not given any chance to acknowledge it. "But Cadance will be checking in with all of you to see how things are going. I think I speak for both of us, when I say we couldn't be more excited to have you here, right dear?" My eyes are pulled to my right side, meeting Cadance's once more. Immediately, the migraine returns, and any attempt at resisting her gaze, speaking out, moving the body, become impossible.

"Absolutely" comes Cadance's snide response.

"Well, we'll let you get to it." As soon as those words leave me, I'm pulled away from Twilight to walk alongside Princess Cadance. Twilight raises a hoof to protest, but doesn't follow us once we enter the east tower.

As we're walking, a new voice hisses next to me, Cadance's lips matching it word for word. "You're being awfully stubborn today, mi amore..." Her horn lights up with an acid-green magical aura, and as I charge up my horn with it's own pink aura, a bright green beam hits me squarely in the face. As her magic washes over my vision, the inside of the tower fades from view, and all I'm left with is that excruciating migraine, and that fucking buzzing.