Pon-E Interview with a Pon-E Peddler
Okay, welcome to my abode… It's small, but I like it. Uh, please make yourself comfortable.
Want a drink?
I hope you don't mind Star Light sitting in; she likes it when we get company.
What? Oh… Well, yes, it's a bit of a blurry issue as far as the law concerns. I suppose you could say she's living with me while the government tries to figure out if she constitutes a… how should I say this… person. It’s messy, but nowhere near as messy as it could be. I've been given custody of a portion of her assets so her previous identity doesn't fall into serious legal issues, and we’re working to tie up any loose ends that could cause people to get… curious.
But enough about my personal life, right?
Yes… My business life.
As a distributor of Pon-E, I have to know the ins and outs of the production of the drug, how to keep it secret, how much of what ingredients need to go into each batch, the right dose size, etc. If my previous jobs were a rollercoaster, then this job is like a ride that picks you fifty feet into the air, tricks you out like you’re falling, and then suddenly tosses you across a football field.
Day job? Oh, I don't have time for one any more. I'm usually down in the lab making the pills and packaging them, at the post office sending off shipments to business partners…, planning petting parties, and for the past 6 months I’ve been keeping Star Light here company. I hardly have time to balance a normal life.
On my tax form, I just say I’m self-employed.
So, let’s see. How did it all begin?
Well, actually, it all started at my last job. About a year ago, I had been working at a bowling alley; just sort of going through the motions, living out my life, the typical boring life of an unskilled Joe. It was abysmal—paid alright, but had a shitty environment, was in a less than stellar end of town, and to top it all off, I was also the guy with the holy duty of cleaning the restrooms.
I can't remember exactly /when/ things changed, although I do remember that the show was in its fourth season at the time. It was definitely a Saturday, and I remember waiting for 6 o’clock to roll around so I could get home and watch the YouTube rip of the new episode. I really was quite exhausted from work that day; this lady apparently had the nachos (NEVER have the nachos at a bowling alley), and of course she had to do the weird squatting thing at the toilet… I digress.
Point is, I was stressed, and needed some time alone where no one would bother me. There was always this hallway in the back that led into another hallway, which connected into some shops that were fronted in the same building as the bowling alley. Most of them had been closed, save a tattoo parlor. I had never gone into the hallway—never thought anyone else did either—but at this time, well, it sort of… popped out at me as the perfect place to be alone.
A good 10 minutes passed before I started hearing what sounded like tons of happy people, which was weird seeing as, to my knowledge, the only other storefront open was the tattoo shop. So, I went to see what was going on. I nearly shat myself at what I found: what had to be at most ten brightly colored, giggling ponies that looked like splitting image real life versions of the show ponies, all running around, playing, and relaxing in a room that had toys and blankets and… It was like a day care or something.
Well, of course, there weren’t just ponies. There were also regular people, like you and me, playing around, petting the ponies, and just enjoying the company of being in a room with friendly happy horses.
I turn around to see my boss’s wife standing behind me, looking just as terrified as I must have. I later found out from my boss that what they'd been running was a very private sort of... I think he said organization. It sounded very mafia-esque, so I might be remembering wrong. Anyway, he'd been running the thing for a couple months, the Pon-E scene still being in its early stages. I had two options: I lose my job, or I keep quiet and say nothing about it. And, well, I am not an idiot.
A few weeks go by and my boss calls me to the back area and asks me if I want to know how much money the stuff made him. Now, I won't say how much, but it was enough that I felt I had to get involved. We struck a deal such that if I put in some overtime at my job, he'd include me and I wouldn’t say anything to anyone. It was possibly the easiest decision I’d ever made. I worked 10-hour days every day for two full weeks, no weekends, before it paid off.
He made me the door guy. I'd sit at the back entrance that lead into the playroom and take the money in exchange for the pills. Seventy-five dollars per person: fifty for the pill, and the additional twenty five for entry and, uh… technically lodging, since the pills lasted twelve hours. The gig was nice, but there were some… incidents that still stand out in my mind.
Well... Honestly, I wasn’t expecting any negative reactions to the pill, and I certainly wasn’t expecting (oh, how innocent I was) that people could end up being tricked into taking the pill without knowing what it was. Ah jeez, the first panic attack was a hell of a ride—apparently there were rules I hadn't been told at the time. One of the customers had turned into this little grey and blonde mare and flipped when she..., uh, he—pronouns, sorry, hard to keep ‘em straight since gender shifts happen in like one out of three users. But apparently sometimes people have minor identity crises if the pony they transform into has some resemblance to any character in the show, or if they “accidentally” name themselves.
Then there was the incident that nearly made me quit.
I, uh, I need a drink real quick.
...Better.
Okay, so, I knew that what I was getting into was morally questionable, but I never expected what I had to do one night in June. We had a customer who was a petter—term we use for people who don't take the pill and just hang around with the ponies. This person had been there all of three nights in a row, which was unusual given the price. Petters usually fare around sixty bucks a night, so a man who was willing to spend one hundred and eighty dollars just to be there was suspect, especially since most pets can’t do two night stays (another rule).
So the fourth night this guy shows up, The Boss is standing outside with me as he arrives. Boss offers him a “night on the house”, you know, takes him to the bowling alley’s bar, gets him drunk off his ass, and the poor guy lets slip that he's an undercover investigator. Wouldn't say for whom. Boss did not like that. So, uh, Boss, he, uh, he brings the guy to an large closet area, hands me two of the pills, looks me in the eye and what he said to me still makes me cringe.
“This guy, he’s just a loose thread... and we're going to make him disappear.”
Yeah, I'm fine, thanks... This is just a rough memory for me. Boss makes it clear to me that my ass is on the line, so I swallow my precious morals, I go into this closet (the guy is sitting there zoned out of his mind on what I was certain was more than alcohol at this point), hold his head up, push the pills down into his mouth, and hold his mouth and nose shut until he swallows.
Now, I'm certain that this is common knowledge, given all the cry-me-a-river “I Got Fooled Into Becoming A Pony” reveal expos all the right-wing shock news websites try and shove down the country’s throat, but just to confirm, two pills of Pon-E are enough to cause permanent metamorphosis into a pony.
The screams... I still occasionally wake up from nightmares of this poor idiot thrashing around in the closet, trying to get away from me… Of how he sobbed while fur grew over his body and he grew too small for his clothes… Of the sound of bones cracking, and a smell that I think was urine. It was fucking terrifying.
Boss called her Snowflake.
I still to this day have no idea what became of the guy. I went in the next day and there was no sign he'd even been around—no clothes, no wallet, nothing. Boss said nothing. It was then that I knew I needed out.
A few days later, apparently impressed with my commitment and loyalty to the job, Boss promoted me. Hired a girl named Katherine to take my place at the door (such a sweet girl… hope she’s doing alright), and taught me how to mix the drug so we could increase production. I don’t want to say that what I learned haunts me, but, well, it certainly stuck with me.
The smell of Pon-E production is like being in a cheap Italian restaurant. Smells of garlic, pepper, and what in my opinion has to be the most overly tomato sauce-y scent usually filled the air. My personal lab has high-speed ventilation fans because I honestly just can't stand the smells.
It takes seven hours, from preparation of ingredients, to pressure forming the pills, for a single batch of twenty single-dose pills. Some people make multi-dose pills to fuck people over; I don't.
I spent two weeks, again with overtime, honing my abilities at making the drug. An additional seven were spent making my own supply at home. Once I was sure I could consistently produce a competing product, I stopped going to work and moved to another city.
About a month later, I found on a news site that the place got busted, with more than a few people having been put into custody. It helped me feel a bit better to know, but I’m not saying any more about it; as I said on the phone, my anonymity is important to me. Thanks.
I started as a dealer in another state. Spent my first two weeks in a shitty Indian-owned hotel. I did my dealing with my back to a wall half the time.
I managed to get a loft apartment after a month of dealing, and after I had settled down enough to feel safe again, I started putting myself out as a “pet caretaker.” I would do private one on one petting parties if someone paid an extra hundred, and my only rules were that they'd pay where we met, they’d put their wallet and personal affects in a box I'd store in a hidden spot (more my personal security than theirs), and that was it.
Most of the time they wanted simple things—I’d watch a show with them, snuggle on a couch, eat ice cream, you know. Some ponies would use it as a means of therapy. We'd sit at a table and they would just pour their heart out to me while I sat and listened. In hindsight, I do wonder how it was that some of those people could only open up after crossing a species threshold. And yes, ok, more than a few wanted sex, and no, I will not tell you if I obliged or not. And trust me, I subscribe to your paper, and I will know if you use any of what I just said out of context.
Seven months had gone by without incident, sitting at my spot on the street. I was making 500 dollars a day, with my private caretaking events being about every other day. I felt damn nice about myself—a little lonely—but I managed to keep myself occupied with my job
...Then she showed up.
Oh, stop your giggling, Star. Yes, this is when Star Light showed up. I’m not going to tell you much about her old life, although I will note that she was very well off; heck, the home we're in right now was hers before we met. She strolled into my life, and became one of my recurring customers. Every three days she'd come by, buy one pill, then leave. After 7 visits, she paid me 500 dollars to visit her at her home. It sort of became a regular thing. I ended up going to visit her at her house once a week, maybe around 8 times.
Is it okay to tell them, dear? You know what I mean... Yes, you can leave the room, you don't have to ask.
Star suffered from a degree of depression and some other things... I won’t pretend to understand much about it but she did not have the best home life growing up, and a lot of unfortunate things had happened to her over her life that I personally don't think anyone would. She started to tell me these things about her on the… fourth or fifth private visit. The Pon-E helped her get some sort of cathartic release, although unfortunately it was just that: a release and an escape. Even now, she still has her bad days.
The people who sell the harder stuff in the area always say “Don't date your customers,” “Pimps don't date hoes,” you get the picture. We didn’t listen.
She and I dated for, uh... two months before she asked me to move in with her. Honestly, I didn't even think it would be a bad idea, didn’t think of anything that could go wrong with my Pon-E supplies being in her house. I don't blame her for how things happened, honest.
It was about... 5 months ago, a Monday. I came home and the house smelled like bad tomato. I didn't need to guess what happened. I rushed to the bedroom to find Star Light buried in blankets, teary mascara smears on her formerly human face. She told me that in a fit of extreme depression, she broke into my lab and overdosed on a multi-dose pill I had made for… I don’t even know why I made it. I can’t stop thinking about why on earth I had made that pill.
That’s the story, really. Legally, things have been shitty, but we’re sorting through it. We're got legally married, although I was planning on popping the question to her at some point anyway. At least that worked out. A lot of her possessions have been signed over to me. We had to do a lot of paper work and have lots and lots of awkward meetings with all the proper people to prove I hadn't murdered her and wasn’t committing some sort of fraud. Why would they believe that a rich girl would turn herself into a pony and get married to a random poor-ass schmoe? It doesn’t make any sense. It sounds like the perfect scheme. Not only that, but even after these meetings and legal appointments, I have to deal with the disgusted stares and muttering from the social workers.
Is it weird to be in love with someone who's not human? Well, that's a tough question… Would you say she's not human simply because she can't stand on two legs? I don't know... I don't care to be absolutely honest. We're both happy. As far as the law is concerned, we're still technically consenting adults. What are they going to do, argue that she’s legally a horse now?
Two months ago we bought a warehouse and started remodeling it into a place for petting parties and private appointments. We had our first party three weeks ago and we've been making a good strong income off of it. Once again, legally it’s… questionable, but it’s working.
You got everything you need? Wonderful. If you want, Star Light will probably have gotten you a drink by now. You have a wonderful day now, you hear?
