Amore

Sunday, October 11, 2020

My return to consciousness is mind in comparison to the last time I woke up from a vivid pony dream. That bizarre buzzing sound is still loud in my ears, but by now, I've begun to learn to tone it out. My migraine still pulses with every beat of my heart, but absent is the sensation of having my skull torn apart by the pain, and the obnoxious sound that accompanied it. It's a more pleasant awakening.

I lift my hand and brush aside the shirt that was covering my glowing clock. 7:21 PM. I had slept through most of the afternoon, close to 11 hours, but I felt no more refreshed than I had before going to bed. I contemplated just rolling over and falling back asleep, but the combination of a full bladder, and a quiet fear of having yet another strange dream about ponies turned me off of the idea.

I get up, and move towards the bathroom. My hand reaches out to flip on the light switch, and I instinctively look in the mirror. What greets me has me screaming.

I stumble backwards into my bathtub. I'm breathing heavily, my heart's a few beats from bursting out of my chest, and my head once again feels like a drill has been taken to it. Despite all of this excitement, I couldn't get the image of what I saw out of my mind.

It takes me several seconds, but I manage to get myself upright, bracing myself over the sink. "It's okay... it's okay..." I whisper to myself, gripping the edge of the counter to the point of driving my knuckles white. A small countdown in my head, and I snap my head up to meet my gaze in the mirror.

In the center of my forehead, is what looks like a giant boil.

Only, unlike a normal boil, there's no swelling redness, and no white head of acne. Instead, the entire bump is colored a bone-white, and it blends seamlessly with the skin. Shaking, I raise my hand up, and brush a fingertip across the bump. The sensation has me in a panic.

It's hard. It's solid. And what's more... it's attached to my skull.

I didn't need to feel it to understand that this thing is growing directly from my skull bone. I lift a hand to tap at the bump, and the vibration against it confirms my diagnosis. It also sends sharp throb of pain throughout my brain.

I get the water in the sink going, and rinse my hands underneath it. I then lower my face, and splash the water all over my face. The sensation feels amazing with the fever I've had, but immediately my stomach lurches. I can feel every drop of water, as it wraps around my forehead, and rolls across the bump. I have no thoughts for this situation, and I let my frustrations out when I exhale. I rest the top of my head against my arms, being careful to avoid brushing against the protrusion from my face. I get a glimpse of the floor, and my lower half at the edge of my vision.

And the contrast of colored ink against my flesh.

That's right. I'm electrified upright again, and I twist my body to get a better look at what I saw on my ass this morning in the mirror.

Unlike this morning, the tattoo isn't patchwork or moth eaten anymore. Rather, it's a clear-cut rendition of Shining Armor's cutie mark. The magical shield. "No fucking way." A finger brushes over the skin where the tattoo is. It feels no different. The texture is the same, and I don't notice any sort of weight against my body. What's more, the line work is perfect. The colors are completely saturated, and the ink is as vibrant as straight from the bottle. I couldn't even entertain the idea that someone had tattooed me in their sleep; it sits on my skin naturally. There's no sign of scarring, or needlework... put simply, my skin is somehow a different color.

My skin... it was worse than yesterday. Now a borderline albino, beyond any normal paleness from sickness. Fine white hairs had started growing on my body, replacing all of my regular dark body hairs. My eyes wander up my body; not a single hair remained. Even my armpits were clean. The scruff at my neck disappeared, leaving me looking as I would have when I was in high school. And my face... the last time I shaved was Friday morning before work. I should have signs of growth.

I notice my eyes... normally my eyes were a shade of bluish-gray, but the stare back at me a vibrant, cerulean blue. Photoshop eyes, I would normally say, but there they sit, inside my skull. They're beautiful. Stunning, really. This was beyond any sickness. My body is changing. As impossible as it sounds, my entire body is now changing. I look up again, and notice that bump on my forehead.

"A... horn..." I whisper to my reflection. Fingers gingerly stroke across the sensitive bump, and I wince as I give it a definitive poke. Solid. A thin skin before solid bone presses against my finger. I recognize the soreness, now that I've had a chance to get my bearings. It's tender... it's growing.

***

I wake myself up with a long, hot shower. For the most part, I wasn't cleaning, but going over and observing my body with a finer detail. Aside from the sudden onset of fine white hair on parts of my body that should have been bare, everything else seemed to be intact. I still had all my fingers and toes, and none of my joints have been altered in any way. I had no idea how long this would last though.

I wasn't ready to jump to any conclusions yet. The scientific, rational side of me was trying to explain this away as something impossible. I keep thinking back to the marijuana I smoked the other night; everything started happening after I had sat down to watch ponies. I hang my towel up on my rack, and stroll out into my apartment bare.

Reaching under my bed, I extract my stash box. In it was my favorite blue bong. It was a simple device, under a foot tall, but it got the job done. I had a particular fondness for it, and never felt the need to upgrade to something bigger now that I didn't have to hide everything away. Still... I pick the piece up and set it aside, and pull out a small opaque sealed jar. Taking the lid off, I set it aside and spill out the contents of it into the lid of my box.

Empty.

Impossible. There was no way I smoked all of that. There should have been several more grams left. I sit back and think to myself, but there's no other place it was be. Years of smoking under the radar in either of my parent's places meant I was extremely careful about putting everything back when I was done. Even though I don't remember passing out, everything was back in my box, except the weed.

My head throbs with my heartbeat, speeding up as I wonder what the hell happened last night. I sit back on my bed, letting a hand rub against my temple; the large knot on my forehead still tender to the touch. My free hand reaches out to pick up my phone. One new voice message.

First new message: 5:14pm - "Real fucking funny, you piece of shit. Fucking stand me up like I'm some piece of trash. Needless to say, we're through. Just to let you know, I never had any interest in you. You bend and scrape to my every need when my hand touches your shoulder, like a fucking wuss. Every little kiss after you buy me something? Bullshit. But thanks for the new clothes, of course you won't be seeing me in them any time in the future. Maybe next time you won't be such a sucker for the first girl who gives you a bit of attention. Thanks a lot, faggot."

Please select an option from the following menu. For saved messages, press one...

My phone slid from my hand, and tumbled across the carpet. What the actual fuck just happened? I stumble forward, scooping up the phone, and redial her number. I get her voice mail again, but when it finishes the recording, the call hangs up. I try it again, and get the same thing. Finally, I hammer out a text to her. What the fuck. I was sick all morning. I'm sorry I didn't text but believe me I wasn't ditching you. My reply is instantaneous.

The recipient you are sending to has chosen to not receive messages: Msg 2111.

I know that message... that's the message you receive when someone's blocked your number. I let my phone fall to the floor again. I'm stunned. I had known her for a few months, and we were getting to the point to where we could say "I love you" to each other. We had a few arguments her and there, usually over stupid shit, but we always made up afterwards. We kissed and held hands and did your typical couple dating routine. And now...

I fling myself against my bed. The migraine sets in again, and the grating cicada-like noise comes with it. I fight back the urge to cry. I resolve myself to not cry over this. She cast me away like nothing; there was no love from her. She was just playing with me. I wouldn't show any emotion for a heartless whore like that... but the thought doesn't stop me from lying face-first in my pillow.

Whatever sickness had come over me, it made my body extremely tired. Already, mental exhaustion set in, and given the circumstances, I welcomed another round of dreams to take me away from this hellish reality.

***

When I came to in my dreams, I was inside what looked to be some sort of bedroom inside Canterlot Castle. This part... I remember. Of course my mind would bring up this one scene. Twilight Sparkle just arrived in the castle, looking to talk to Shining Armor about how Cadance was acting with her friends. Cadance noticed she had arrived, and called Shining back to the bedroom alone. When the dream started, it appeared like I was floating above it as it unfolded, but when Cadance turns to look around at Shining Armor, I'm brought back to the ground, as the stallion once more.

Cadance's eyes are staring at me with a look of extreme displeasure. "Look, we need to talk."

"I'm here to talk," I offer in response, confused by what could have her so upset.

"It's about your sister, okay?" Her face doesn't change, continuing to stare me down.

"I-- look," I begin in immediate response, a defensive tone to my voice. "Look, she's okay--"

"Just... listen to me, alright?" I can't get a word in edgewise as she talks over to me. She lifts her posture, trying to look over me.

It works. I'm reminded of how my girlfriend used to treat me when we'd get in these kinds of arguments. "I'm listening, I'm listening," I offer to her in a defeated tone of surrender. I just want her to calm down.

She raises a hoof, pointing at my chest. "I thought I made it perfectly clear that I didn't want you to wear that." Her tone is spot on: You didn't do what I told you to do. My... now ex-girlfriend had that mastered. No matter how stupid the argument, she would drive the guilt into you. How dare you piss her off. My mind starts to retreat, hoping that my dream would end as it usually did. But not this time.

Cadance is still staring at me, and I haven't offered her back a response yet. This wasn't like the last dreams. Normally this body just sort of... handled itself. I wasn't consciously performing the actions. The dream had me on auto-pilot. It's becoming clear that no answer is going to come, so I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"This... was my favorite uncle's?" My hoof taps against the crested bandolier running across my chest.

"And?" No time wasted, spitting out the curt retort.

"And... I think I should wear it?" I knew where this argument was going to head the moment I let the words come out. It wasn't word for word, but this was how it would spark up the fire once more.

I'm spot on. Cadance draws back, disgust creeping into her features. A scoff, "Are you disagreeing with me?"

The anger begins to rise in me. I quickly snap back, raising my tone in defiance to her, "I guess I am-- aagh!"

Again, the migraine. Every time I got emotional, or let my blood get pumping, it fueled the pain that radiated in my brain. I bend down, pressing the soft side of my hoof to my temple. My knees buckle, and the pain has me wincing so hard, I can't keep both of my eyes open.

Instead of sympathy, I get a feigned look of empathy. Her tone is patronizing, leaning into me, smirking the entire time. "Oh, dear. Are you getting another one of your headaches?"

But... how did Cadance know I was suffering from headaches? I'm given no time to consider it; Cadance's horn grows green, whirling with the sound of magic, and sends a bright bolt of green energy straight for my horn. For a brief moment, the pain of my headache is magnified a thousand-fold. I hear nothing but the cries of a swarm of cicadas. And once everything I can see is nothing but a vast field of green, it goes dark, and I'm ejected from the dream.

***

Feeling better...?

Faint words echo throughout the room, quieting the buzzing sound, and dispelling the migraine instantly. I look up, and over at my clock. 9:40 PM. A quick nap. I sigh, realizing I had spent most of the day sleeping and having these bizarre dreams about My Little Pony. This late at night, anything to eat would have to be ordered, so I fish my phone out of the mess of sheets. It's nothing fancy, but I punch in a quick order for pizza through their phone app, and lean back into the pillow.

I close my eyes, but after that last dream, I'm far from tired. I take the time though, to just sit, relax, and think. I've never been one for the lucid dreaming fad that swept the imageboard. I could blame the first one on being high on whatever it was I had smoked, but these subsequent dreams after the fact left me confused. I certainly wasn't high, but quite possibly sick. I press a hand to my forehead. I've been sweating every time I fall asleep, but I don't notice a fever.

None of this explained the changes my body was going through. But if I'm having these wild dreams every time I fall asleep, I can't help but wonder if maybe I'm just seeing things. People's brains work funny when they are sick. Instinctively, my hands drifts over to the bump on my head. This was no hallucination, and if I wasn't mistaken, it had grown another inch or two while I slept. I could barely explain away all of the other things. I had nothing for the horn.

Horn... calling it a horn validates the idea that I'm actually changing into some form of Shining Armor. Again, impossible. This was the stuff of fanfiction, or crazy greentext stories on general threads. This is something you'd wish for to happen, but as it's happening to me, I have no idea what to make of it. It was a dream to have this happen, because you always knew that it couldn't actually happen.

And yet, it was happening. I arch my back and stretch out all of my limbs. As joints crack and pop, I confirm I'm still in a human shape. My left foot strikes against cardboard, and I remember that I hadn't opened the strange package I received earlier today. I slide it over to me, and turn on the lamp on my nightstand.

The only address is my address. My name. There's no return information, no identifying markings. There's no postage, or carrier information. The only way for this to get here, is to have delivered it personally. Or pay someone to do it. Either way, this seemed sketchy as hell, but I bear with these feelings, and tear open the box.

I pull out the largest piece in the box. It's a soft, minky material, and it doesn't take long to recognize it as a My Little Pony plush. Specifically, one of Shining Armor. I look it over, and it just seems to be your average quality handmade plush. But I certainly didn't have the money to pay for such a commission, and I don't know of anyone who'd do it for free. I wasn't even a huge fan of Shining Armor. Yeah, he was cool, but the show focused on the Mane 6, and I wasn't one to obsess over background ponies. Well, excluding Cadance, but she got a decent amount of screen time, all things considered.

I kick the box off my bed, and take the plushie in both hands, and hold it above me, letting the light hit it. My hands run over every inch of it, squeezing it, feeling it, but short of cutting it open and analyzing the fluff material, I'm pretty convinced it's just an ordinary plush. Why someone would want to get my information, and take the time to give me a plush is beyond me. I didn't even advertise the fact that I liked ponies.

As I turn the plush over in my hands, a tingling sensation creeps across my entire body, goosebumps rising and standing every hair on end. A Shining Armor plush and a picture of Cadance arrives... the day I discover I have Shining Armor's cutie mark on my own flank. The day I start having dreams about him... There's no way any of this wasn't connected. I don't know how it is possible. I let my mind go quiet, and take a deep breath in and out, trying to clear my head. I could feel the migraine slowly picking up in intensity, the rising hiss of sound in my ear. I have to keep myself under control; I can't get excited or I'll be in miserable pain. A small series of breaths in, and out... in, and out... My heart slows down, and with it, the migraine dissipates before it can get started.

With my mind free, I can't help but drift to the thought of Twilight trying to explain the Pinkie Sense in the first season. Despite the coincidences, Twilight wasn't able to explain it, but resigns herself to admitting that it was possible. I let my arms fall to my side, the Shining Armor plush bouncing off my chest and to my side. For some unexplainable reason, I'm apart of this Shining Armor conspiracy. This has to be something more than a laced weed trip. Maybe I am wrapped up in something I can't explain. Maybe--

A loud knock at my door shocks me back into reality. My eyes glance at the clock. 10:55 PM. Already? I quickly get up, moving for the door and wrapping a robe around me. Knowing that my pizza is here has put a fire in my stomach. I haven't eaten since this morning, and dry toast is hardly filling. I undo the bolt latch and chain, opening the door.to reveal a meek-looking brunette, college-aged, probably no older than me.

"I have your order, Mr..." the blue polyester-clad girl begins, but stops as her eyes fall onto me. She brings the receipt in her hand up to her mouth when she giggles out loud, looking quickly up and down the hall.

It's only then I realize, in the haste of hunger, I answered the door, with nothing to cover the freakishness of my face right now. I give her a nervous laugh, a hand rubbing the back of my neck, "S-Sorry, guess you didn't expect to see this, eh..."

She waves her hand, finishing the last of her giggle as she hands over the receipt to me. "Please, no, I'm just glad you're not a..." her voice trails off, inaudible as she mouths the word minority. "If I get to deal with a brony, I'm thankful." I hand her back the receipt, and she exchanges it for a pair of boxes. "You pulled it off really good by the way, how did you get the ears to move?"

I look at her with a raised brow, confused by what she said. "Ears.. to move?" My hand raises towards where my ears would normally be, tucked under a thick layer of hair. I'm in desperate need of a haircut.

"Yeah, on top. That's really cool, it really pulls the look together."

My hand comes in contact with my ear... on top of my head. Living, warm flesh, coated in a fuzzy lair of white fur. The sensation is strange, ticklish in a way, and it twitches to avoid my touch.

"And it reacts to touch? Wow... I have to say, you pony nerds are pretty dedicated." She looks down at the receipt, smiling when her eyes reach the tip line. "Have a good night, pony boy." She spins around, walking down the hallway and into the staircase leading out of the apartment.

I've been staring at the wall for a good ten seconds, unable to process this informational overload. I kick the door close, tossing the pizza boxes to the floor to quickly latch and chain the door, before tearing across the apartment and into the bathroom. I flip on the light, and I yell as staring back at me is a complete stranger.

***

I spent some time in the bathroom. My entire face was numb from shock, and even as the migraine exploded in my head, the utter sensation of disconnect I'm feeling right now doesn't register how hard it should be hurting. In a mindless daze, I groped my entire face for the better part of an hour. I gasped, moaned, cried for a good few minutes. I wasn't sad or anything, but the raw amount of data my mind had to process was too much. It was a sensory, an emotional overload.

The changes had taken a sharp acceleration in the few hours I napped, and the hour I was waiting for my pizza. The reason my hair felt so long, is because it is now more of a... mane. A long, disheveled, mullet-looking thing. I only call it a mane, because it is now partially dyed the color of Shining Armor's mane--sapphire blue with a streak of cerulean running down the middle. I know there is supposed to be a third color, but it only looks half-dyed. Halfway transitioned from human hair to a pony's mane.

The ears the pizza girl had noticed were in fact, my ears. I spent a good twenty minutes on that alone. To describe it, when I naturally perform the command 'move my hand to my ear', my body already drifts to the top of my head, where two white equine ears rest. After coming to the understanding that these were my living, functioning ears, I could only shake in absolute dread as I lifted up my mane to look at the side of my head. My human ears were gone.

The bump on top of my head that I suspected to be a horn, is indeed a horn. A fully-grown, six-inch piece of bone fused with my skull. I spent a good chunk of time with this as well, but more in fascination than in horror. The sensation across it was astounding. I ran my fingers along it for some time, able to feel the minute sensations of my fingertips against the spiral ridges. And unlike my ears, which seemed to avoid my touch... I enjoyed touching my horn. When I came to that realization, I felt like a teen who's discovered masturbation. Naturally, I moved to the tip. Twisting, pinching, flicking. It was a solid piece of bone, but as sensitive... no, even more sensitive than my dick. My hand moves down and I spit into it.

I look into my eyes, now a deep, vibrant cerulean blue, and come to an understanding with myself. This was for science. Even I couldn't make myself believe that as I hop up onto the counter, and grab my horn with my slick hand. From the tip, to the base, I give it one, smooth stroke. The sensation was out of this world. It beat any kind of masturbation done before. My hand moves back to my mouth as I give it another glob of saliva. This time, from base to tip, coating my horn in my own saliva. Perfect.

I catch myself in the mirror, looking like I'm hitting myself in the forehead. I couldn't care less how I look, and my expression said it all: mouth agape, bottom lip quivering as I slowly stroke up and down the length of my horn. A lewd moan escapes my mouth, and stop to adjust myself on the counter, pressing my back against the wall, and letting my legs drape across the tank of the toilet. When I'm settled in and secure enough to not fall over, I pick up the pace.

I knew how to pace myself when I was jacking off normally; applying that pace to my horn put me beyond the edge in an instant. I moaned loudly; I couldn't explain it, but it felt like a kind of pressure building up within my horn. The sensation was intense though, the kind of feeling you would get after finishing. Too sensitive. But I couldn't stop. As I stroked, I could feel a faint pulse in sync with my heartbeat, quivering softly against my skin. With each further stroke, the vibrations grew in power, now making my entire skull numb with the resonating vibrations. My eyes were closed from the intense feeling, but I crack an eye open. I can only catch the faint light of a rose-colored aura surrounding my horn.

I'm sent flying backwards into the shower as an explosive BANG detonates in front of me, blinding my vision with pink light. All sound cuts out, and when I regain my sight, my vision is blurred. Time slows down and I hear nothing but ringing. Electricity arcs from busted light sockets above my medicine cabinet, and an entire piece of the wall diving my bathroom and my living room is missing, leaving nothing but smoldering remains. A warm trickle on the back of my neck gets what little of my attention I have left, and my hand makes contact with my sticky blood. As I lose consciousness, against the sound of shell shock, I swear I hear the sound of a grand piano, keying faint, somber tones...

This day is going to be perfect...