Domesticating These Human Boys, Falling At My Hooves Like Toys

You knock on Twilight's door, thick pink frosting dripping off of your knuckle. You take a deep breath before blowing upwards, trying to keep your batter-soaked hair from rubbing up against your eyes. You hear a bunch of rustles from deep inside.

You sigh, and you slant your body over to the side. You can't see a thing through the newly installed window. You reach out and knock again even harder. You stop to notice the pink marks that you've made in the wood for a second, looking like paw-prints almost, but you just go 'meh'. She can clean that later.

"Oh, for Pete's sake, I'm coming already!" Twilight calls out. You hear her hooves scattering across the floor over to the door. It lights up with her familiar purple aura as you step backwards.

"Hey, Twi," you mutter.

"Don't you 'Twi' me," she says as she sizes you up. You can see her body covered with some kind of shiny, reflective white chemical suit, probably doing more of those mad-scientist style experiences in her basement lab. She takes off a pair of goggles, those beady black things always remind you of John Lennon eyglasses, and she snorts. "And what is it now?

"Well..." You point a frosting soaked arm over at your batter soaked arm. You slide your sprinkle-coated legs apart as you slid your head to the side. A big blob of chocolate pudding slides down from atop your ear along your right cheek. "It's kind of... this."

"Oh, I thought that you were just dressing like a living carnival treat for fun. As Rarity would say, 'eccentricity is so couture right now'," Twilight retorts. She trots to a table besides the door and magically takes off her huge chemical suit, throwing it atop stacks of papers and binders. She looks away from you as she stops, and she slams her head against the table with a soft 'thud'.

"Uh, Twi," you say, leaning your head into the library.

"Stop. Calling. Me. Twi," she moans, face buried in the table.

"Sorry." You feel that familiar dark cloud going up your stomach, something that has happened pretty much every time you've spoken with Twilight since you showed up the day before yesterday. Ugh, I'm so stupid. I can't just talk to her like we're friends. We have to actually be friends. Stupid, frigid, arrogant, closed-minded little pony! Why can't we just be nice to each other?

"It was Pinkie, wasn't it?" Twilight asked, face still buried.

"Eeeeeeeyup," you reply. You chuckle a little, knowing that your Big Mac impression has improved a lot over the past twenty-four hours. "The two of us were just working on those 'automatically self-baking treats' that's all the rage in Canterlot. You know, you just place them on the counter and they cook themselves. I guess we used too much ground Clover of Strontitus to amp up the process for several pony-sized cakes rather than mere cupcakes, and... well..." You'd laugh, but you can't stand the feeling of cake batter everywhere from inside your ears to inside your boxer shorts for much longer.

Twilight hops over right in front of you, holding up a hoof onto your face. "I don't want to hear it. You understand me? I. Do. Not. Want. To. Hear. It." She takes a little breath, and she lights up her horn.

"Yes, thank you," you comment. That's all I wanted, seriously. That's the only reason why I walked all the way here from Sugarcube Corner.

Twilight murmurs a quick spell. You close your eyes, and you feel this weird wave of minty-freshness coursing through your system. You wiggle, trying to keep it from tickling too much. You take deep breaths, and you open your eyes once again.

"Better?" She runs a hoof through her very jagged and coarse mane.

"Thanks!" Your face, hair, ears, hands, and everything in between seem perfectly clean, thanks to Twilight. You look at her for a moment, wondering. You've been so... so stressed with all of these humans showing up. Not just over the past while, but even so many in the last several days. Your eyes move along her crazy mane, seeing lines that have formed on her face. I know that you had to be so happy and cheerful before all that.

"Look, Scamper--"

"No. Just no," you reply. You love Pinkie to death, but it cuts like a knife going right across your wrists how that fluffy pink mare just has to popularize some obnoxious, yet funny-to-her nickname for every single human that she meets. You take a gulp. At least you didn't get stuck with something like 'Peaches'.

"Fine, mister man," Twilight says, magically lifting the chemical suit back on. "You know, I'm surprised that you've lasted this long without having to get 'fixed'. A male human in that age group-- that bracket where you swear, drink, sweat, fart, burp, and everything else like there's no tomorrow-- always makes trouble when he shows up here. You're lucky that I haven't sicced Zecora on you. Let her get you 'fixed', all while--" She doesn't finish the sentence; she just closes the door. You hear her grumbling quietly.

You cringe at that word. Fixed. Ugh... why does she have to keep threaten to have me "fixed"! I've tried so hard to fit in! Equestrian regulations keep humans nicely separate even though hundreds of them walk across Equestria-- something about their "molecular structure" posing "reactive risks when applied against each other in magically charged specific environments", whatever that means.

You don't know if it's too much caution based on mere speculation or a sinister plot to keep humans in the dark about how ponies treat them. At any rate, you've never had the opportunity to talk to some guy that has gotten '"fixed". You know that you'll never let it happen to you.

You almost walk into a set of bushes outside of Colgate's Dentistry, and you jolt yourself back to reality. No reason to worry about all this. Now, let's see exactly what the hell Pinkie expects to do given that her cakes work better as bombs than treats. You walk across the main street, seeing ponies cavorting about like usual. It still feels so unreal-- you've had less than a week to get comfortable with being in a cartoon-like world with cartoon-like talking horses-- and you still marvel at the well-dressed mares that come out of Rarity's botique.

They freeze as they take one look at you. You hold up a hand and wave it in the air, putting on a goofy, friendly expression. What else can I do? The tallest mare, a golden-maned pegasus with tiny wings and something like white stripes going across her back, curls backward. She frowns as her eyes narrow, and her compatriots do the same.

Oh, well... okay then. The mares dart away from you, heading down into a side alleyway. It doesn't matter how many humans you horses see, does it? Every single time, you'll just never see them as anything other than a curiosity-- some kind of savage beast that's kept on an omnipresent leash. It rubs you pretty sore. You can't help it. You know that a large minority of ponies act like they half expect you to poop right on the side of the street while scratching your ear with your foot.

You hover a moment in front of Sugarcube Corner as Roseluck pops up acros the other side of the building. You smile and wave. She smiles and waves back, flashing that adorable smile of hers. You feel your heart warming up instantly. Of course, another large minority couldn't have more open arms ready. If only Roseluck wasn't happy with that marefriend of hers...

You have to admit it. You're a man, and you have hormones. Whatever slammed you into Twilight's attic the day after yesterday, scaring the living daylights out of the mare as she braved up the stairs, also turned you into something at least half-cartoon like yourself. You knew that ever since Spike accidentally knocked two full sets of bookshelves upon both and Twilight... but you both only had scratches and the occasional ache afterward, Tom and Jerry would be proud. Although, your "scampering" across the attic's floor-- in Spike's words-- had lead to that blasted nickname.

Your skin and features seem to have the same pastel warmth of everything else in Ponyville as well. Thus, there's no reason for you not to find several of these mares completely irresistible. At least, that's the line that you've kept on telling yourself, to keep from feeling like a horny zoophillac freak. For crying out loud, they're adult girls-- walking around totally naked! Adult non-human girls, but still... yeah... You've heard about Braeburn, Nurse Redheart, and a couple other ponies doing kinky things with human guys when other ponies weren't in the room. In polite society, naturally, nopony is supposed to talk about that sort of thing.

You sigh wistfully, and you open the door to Sugarcube Corner. You can't imagine seeing Pinkie beautiful Pie in that way, at least, given that the bouncy, hyperactive mare rips through male companions like a hot knife through butter. You glance around the main store floor for a moment, scratching your head. Something's wrong.

How the hell did it all get clean?

You speed around from corner to corner, seeing spotless counter-tops and sparkling white dishes. You can't make out Pinkie anywhere. Your heart begins to race, wondering if something weird has happened.

*Wham!*

A group of horses throw you down onto a pile of bags of sugar. You let out a honking sound, arms waving on your back. You hear a torrent of giggles. Hooves reach down around your arms and curl you to the side, and you blink.

"Oh, it's Scamper!" Applebloom calls out, sitting down atop your right foot.

"Stop calling me that," you groan. You rub your back for a second as you look over at Sweetie Belle, sitting down atop your left foot, and Scootaloo, brushing up against your left side.

They both have smiles going from cheek to cheek. That makes you form a horrible, caustic lump in the middle of your stomach. Smiles mean trouble. Smiles mean that they'll start begging for something very, very inappropriate, given that they know a human adult will always be an easier mark than a pony adult.

"Oh, sorry about that," Sweetie says. You watch as she shifts her mane around. "My fellow Crusaders and I just need to ask you a favor. A kind of a special favor." She flushes her cheeks and puts on a puppy-dog smile, her ears curling around her head.

Dammit! Why do foals have to be so awesomely cute and charming! You stand up, and the Crusaders plop themselves onto the floor right in front of you. You let out a little moan as all three of them put on the same adorable expression, their hooves out in supplication.

"What is it?" you ask. You immediately mentally kick yourself. You said that in your 'big brother' tone of voice, that inflection that made it clear that you'd do whatever they'd ask.

"Well, as you can see," Sweetie says, pointing behind her at the clean store room, "the 'Spellcaster Enchantment Booster P-90X' was a complete success."

"P-90X..." you repeat, face looking totally blank.

"Yeah, yeah," Scootaloo says, "you should have been here! Sweetie just put that doo-hickey-a-thing-a-ma-bob on her head, and ker-pow!" Scootaloo punches you in the leg. "Cleaning spell and everything else! She's almost as magically able as Twilight!"

"Well, not that powerful," Sweetie chimes in, rubbing her face against her body in embarassment.

"That's nice..." You don't like where this is leading.

"And, now that the kitchen and other rooms succeeded," Applebloom says, "us Crusaders just want to know if we can test the rest of the spells on you."

"Please!" Sweetie calls out.

"Pretty please!" Scootaloo calls out.

Applebloom just takes the bow out of her mane and holds it in her mouth. You want to cry. The bow move! I can't say 'no' to the bow move! Curse you adorable, charming foals!

"What kind of spell?" you ask, trying to dodge things. "And how does this P-90X even work?"

"Oh, just a moment!"

*Yoink!*

You find yourself led back outside by the three foals, a lot stronger than their age and size would suggest. They push you over besides Roseluck's big pushcart, crammed with flashy tulips, pretty dandelions, and other treats for ponies to munch on. You take a deep breath as Scootaloo pulls out what looks like a World War I helmet that the Germans wore. Instead of a single spike on the top, you spot two spikes. One, stretching around two feet long, points right at you as Scootaloo adjusts the weird looking black knobs on the side of the helmet.

"Girls, I'm not sure if this will really do what you want it to do."

Scootaloo makes a happy squeal, and she places the helmet on Sweetie's head. Sweetie lights up her horn, and it sticks out of a little whole that makes it rub up against the helmet's twin spikes. A flurry of sparks erupt across Sweetie's head, and the filly giggles, apparently feeling like the sparks tickle her.

"Relax, this won't hurt a bit. And we know that it'll do just what we want it to for sure," Applebloom says, helping Scootaloo manipulate the P-90X.

"What do you want it to do?"

"Oh," Applebloom says, running a hoof through her mane, "we're just rehearsing spell number nineteen. You know, the one that makes the receiver about two hundred times his or her size upon contact. Or so that book that we swiped from Twilight says." She pulls up a thick volume from behind her.

"Two hundred times his or her siz--

*Zap!*

You feel a surgling blue light. Then, you feel a surgling white light. You wiggle from side to side, taking in a deep breath. You feel yourself resting against something wet. You feel your hands against your sides. Grass? This is grass?

"Wake up, Scamper," Twilight says from somewhere above you.

"I told you, don't call me--" You stop mid-sentence. Oh, God, what happened? You can't remember a thing after getting zapped. You open your eyes and stand up.

Twilight looks pissed. Her ears stick out with her mane fluttered all across her head, strands pointing every which way. Her eyes look red. You also seem to be smack in the middle of Everfree Forest, an area that you used to avoid like the plague on the recommendation of every single pony that you have met. Your eyes dart around the massive, overhanging foliage-- strange noises and rustling going off in the distance-- and you shiver.

"So... I hope you enjoy being 'fixed'," Twilight says.

You flip around, glaring at the unicorn as she turns around and starts down a mossy path. You go after her. She throws leaves and grass along through the air with her magic over at you, slowing you down just like walking through a river. You grimace.

"What the hell did I do to deserve this?"

"Well," Twilight says, locking eyes with you and stroking her chin with a hoof. "Maybe it's your lack of personality. Maybe it's your overall obnoxiousness. Maybe you have an overdue library book. Or, maybe... I don't know..." She bucks up on her hind legs. "Maybe you shouldn't have tried to smash the town into a million pieces, mister magical giant monster!"

"I didn't... mean it!" you scream.

"Like I care," Twilight retorts, still going back the patch that she had apparently came in on. You take a step, and you see her horn lighting up brightly. "Stop. Turn around. Go to the end of this new path to Zecora's hut. To the side is her new guest hut. She'll get you 'fixed'. And don't come back until she's good and through with you."

Magic doesn't work on humans. They also have a relatively high tolerance for punishment or so you've learned the hard way over the past few days. Still, Twilight's crazy look in her eye means that you don't feel inclined to fight with her any more. You simply nod.

You turn around and walk over in the opposite direction. Zecora. Aside from some comments about an evil enchantress that does evil dances and puts unwary travelers in trances, you've never heard much about that pony. It stands to reason that she's some kind of social outcast or else she'd live right alongside you and Pinkie Pie in Ponyville.

'Fixed'.

You try and force that horrible word out of your mind as you come up to the top of the hill. You gaze down at what apparently seems like the 'guest hut' Twilight had mentioned. It looks like a Miami beach shack rather than the sort of spooky, Texas Chainsaw Massacre / Wrong Turn / Deliverance / etc. forest place that you had expected. You see white wooden sides and wide stretching, albeit totally blocked off with shut blinds, windows. You step over to the door, knowing that you should probably head inside before the Everfree creepy-crawlies get a hold of you.

You knock softly. You glance over to your far right, and you see another hut. That one looks like something out of a National Geographic documentary, with all kinds of various masks and sticks and other tribal-like items propped up around. Guess that's Zecora's own hut.

The door begins to swing open right in front of you. You lean backwards, feeling your stomach tied up in knots. You close you eyes, and you let out a breath.

Fixed.

To Be Continued...