Fix Me

by TheTiredQuill

Rating: mature
Tags: Sad, Slice of Life
Length: 6502

Pipsqueak struggles to come to terms with himself.

Pipsqueak struggles to come to terms with himself.

Characters are aged up slightly

Edited by Cornflak, Bobdat, and Koekelbag

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-17 03:50:01 UTC

Just A Phase

Two figures veiled in the shadow from Luna’s moon crept their way across Ponyville. Their movements were like that of cats—graceful and adroit—but also quick and quiet. They slithered through broken fences and in between buildings, neither one making so much as a sound.

“Pip, how do you even know you're going the right way? I can barely see my own hoof in front of my face.” The pinto colt spearheading their little two pony excursion turned and made a shushing gesture with his hoof. His winged cohort frowned at the swaying tail that had been serving as his only lifeline for the better part of an hour. “I’m just saying, how do you even know we’re anywhere close to your house?”

“We’re close,” was all he said, not even bothering to turn around.

“But how do you know?”

“Because I know Ponyville like the back of my hoof, that’s how.”

“But you’ve only lived here for like...five years.”

“That’s five years long enough to know where I’m going.” Featherweight rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say.” They continued on in silence until Pipsqueak abruptly stopped. The action was so sudden that Featherweight all but slammed into him.

“What the heck, Pip. At least warn me next time or something.”

“Sorry,” Pipsqueak whispered, staring up at the sill of sizable window. “We’re here, by the way.”

“How can you tell this is your house?”

“Who else in Ponyville has bay windows on their house?”

“Good point.” Featherweight shrugged, walking up behind the pinto colt, who was halfway hunched over the sill of the window. “But how are you planning on—” Pipsqueak already had the window open before Featherweight could even finish his sentence.

“Like this.” Featherweight didn’t have to see Pip’s face to know that he was grinning.

“Touchẽ.” Featherweight said as he climbed in the open window after his friend. If Featherweight thought that the pittance of light he’d been given outside constituted darkness, it was nothing compared to the almost blinding absence of light that smacked him in the face as he stumbled through the window. It was almost as though nothing outside of his own limbs and internal organs existed; as though he were a ghost that could phase through anything.

“Buckin’ A, it’s dark in here. Turn on a light or somethin.”

“And let my parents know we were out past curfew? Fat chance.”

“I don’t know how you expect to even get to your room. I literally can’t see anything now.” Something soft and wispy danced across his cheek.

“Here, I know where I’m going, just hold on to my tail.” With a mounting trepidation he didn’t care to put words to, Featherweight took hold of the threadbare appendage in his mouth and scrambled hurriedly to give it slack as Pipsqueak began to move.

They continued valiantly though the darkness, Pipsqueak leading the voyage with Featherweight as his tentative tag-along. Their excursion went relatively well, the pair making it through the foyer and into the living room without so much as a noise made between them. However, once they’d reached the foot of the stairs, a critical misstep on Featherweight’s part threatened to derail their entire operation.

An old creaky board that nopony ever noticed during the day amidst the hustle and bustle of the morning rush decided to make itself known, and its entrance was by no means a quiet one. Both colts visibly flinched as the ugly, raucous noise reverberated off nearly every wall and surface in the vicinity, seeming to amplify in volume the longer it carried on.

Eventually, the impossibly loud squealing of the rebellious floorboard died down, a silent nothingness taking it’s place. Both Pipsqueak and Featherweight-who’d been nearly paralyzed by the bone chilling fear of being found out-exited their statis like stillness with all five senses on high alert.

Pipsqueak turned slowly toward Featherweight with shoulders sharp and steepled. Featherweight couldn't see the look of abject horror on his friend's face, but he did hear the heavy expenditure of breath followed by a taut pull of the tail in his mouth that effectively spurred him forward.

The two scaled the staircase with the forethought of seasoned mountain climbers, their tango of carefully placed steps becoming more intricate with every stairstep? they traversed . Eventually, they’d reached the top, a relatively small victory in the face of the insurmountable challenge that lies ahead of them.

Pip’s parent’s bedroom door stood open like the dripping maw of the most horrifying of monsters, the last bastion between the two colts and safe, uninterrupted seclusion. Pipsqueak took the initiative, creeping slowly toward his bedroom-and by extension, his parent’s. Featherweight was not mentally or physically ready to begin the endeavor, and was nearly pulled off balance by the sudden tug at his teeth.

As they inched ever closer to the salivating maw Featherweight could have sworn was ready to swallow them alive, and he couldn’t help but feel like a sacrifice; like an offering to some great deity that took umbrage with his very presence. And, as if to stoke the already potent mixture of fear and sickness ailing him, an otherworldly snarl came from within it as he peered in to get a better look.

Featherweight squeaked around Pip’s tail, the beating of his heart increasing dramatically. However, as quickly as it had happened, it was over. Before Featherweight even knew it, Pip had the door open and was leading him inside the sanctity of his bedroom. The door shut quietly behind him and, for the first time that night, Featherweight felt safe.

“Thank Celestia, we made it,” Featherweight breathed, a hoof to his chest.

“Don’t worry, my parents are pretty heavy sleepers. It probably woulda been pretty hard to wake em up this late at night.”

“So then why were we sneaking around?”

“I dunno, better safe then sorry, yeah?”

“I guess.” Pipsqueak moved to sit on the edge of his bed, Featherweight remained rooted in front of the door. There was a moment of invasive nothingness quiet as the night looming outside the window. Featherweight thanked Celestia Pip couldn’t see him on account of the darkness. There were a series of odd shuffling noises from the other side of the room.

“Sooo,” Pipsqueak started, eyes to the floor. “Did you wanna do something?”

“Like what” Featherweight led, pretending not to notice the hopeful inflection in Pip’s voice that practically hit him over the head.

“I dunno...maybe like...kissing or something?” Pipsqueak’s face felt red and molten. He glanced up toward the door expectantly, if not a bit too much so.

“Yeah,” Featherweight said, his face nearly as red as Pip’s. “If you’re still fine with it and everything.”

“That is why we came here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Featherweight sidled awkwardly toward Pip's bed, each inch causing his legs to shake more violently and his gait to become slightly more askew. Somehow he’d succeeded in making it across the room, but by that point his nervousness had become so egregious that it was all he could do to simply maintain eye contact. Featherweight’s face caught a stray strip of moonlight and Pip almost regretted arranging the entire endeavor.

“Are you sure you still wanna do this? You look kinda nervous.”

“Yeah, just...take it slow, ok?”

“Alright.” Pip nodded, wrapping his forehooves around Featherweight’s neck ever so slowly. “Is this ok?”

“Yeah.” They were so close, Featherweight could feel Pip’s breath on his cheeks. The two spent a good long minute taking each other in before Pipsqueak decided to make his move and bring their muzzles together. This was exactly what the two had been waiting for, this perfect synchronization of impassioned heartbeats, fit comfortably in the moments when the city stopped to breath. And with no conceivable interruptions in the near future, the two could take all the time they needed to imbibe themselves on each other’s lust.

Neither colt was particularly skilled in making out, nevertheless, they were relentless in their exploration. Infantile tongues flitted this way and that, coiling around one another until both mouths were liberally coated in the saliva of the other. Eventually, their mouths slipped away, hot and heavy breaths warming the space between both faces.

“Oh, Celestia, this is so much better than I expected,” Pipsqueak panted.

“Yeah.”

“You wanna keep going?”

“Yeah.”

Tongues met again almost as if they’d been suffering from withdrawal. Hooves roamed eagerly but uncertainty over bodies that were pressed together so fervently that desire eked from between them and stained the room a passionate red.

The two enamoured colts continued to melt into one another like the most eloquent of chocolates, neither colt noticing the click of the bedroom door as it inched open or the growing strip of light separating the ever present darkness. Finally, as the bead of light washed over the two impassioned faces, they found themselves staring down a silhouette bathed in harsh, fluorescent light.

The panic in both colts was immediate. Featherweight shot up and, in turn, Pip leapt to the floor, putting as much distance between himself and Featherweight as he could. A click was heard followed by an intense burst of light, and when both colt’s eyes had finally adjusted to the sudden change in lighting, what they saw made both their stomachs drop. There, standing in the neck of the doorway was Pip’s father, and, by the look on his father’s face, Pip surmised that he’d just dug his own grave.

Growing up on the more slovenly side of Trottingham, Pip’s father had learned at a very young age that the world was full of depravity and wickedness, and, as he got older and began to settle down, he watched the depravity and wickedness grow until it pervaded every conceivable corner of his world. By the time he and his mate had conceived a child, he’d become so afraid of the world that the only way he felt he could reliably protect his family was by hedging them with heavy doses of both morality and ethics.

He quickly became a stallion who found solace in integrity. He became a stallion who sought to subvert the ugliness and sin surrounding him with virtue and righteousness. He became a stallion who did his best to lead his family down a path that would eventually lead to sanctification by virtue of the propriety that had taken such dominion in his own life, in hopes they would one day come to see just how horrible and corrupt the world truly was.

Pipsqueak was all too aware of his father’s smothering morals and suffocating restrictions-having had them forced down his throat every day of his life, there was no way he would ever forget them. He knew how much his father hated things like drugs, sex, and drinking, and he was repeatedly told that if he were ever caught doing any one of them he’d be swiftly and severely punished.

However, perhaps the most weighted fear that his father had accrued over his years of hedging and seclusion was something far less practical and far more personal. It was a fear that had been systematically instilled in him after having witnessed one too many horrific acts of violence against ponies who batted for the other team. As such, he’d been imbibed with a deep-seated anxiety of any of his children having to go through something so horrible and traumatic.

The stallion’s hawkish gaze locked onto the pegasus cowering bonelessly on the bed, and Featherweight found himself utterly paralyzed. It was almost as though he were caught in a vice, his forelegs, his rear legs and even his lungs slowly being crushed by the inestimable weight that the older stallion’s eyes bore down on him with.

“I think you should leave.” The stallion’s tone sounded surprisingly calm on the surface, but Pip had lived with him long enough to know that that was merely the calm before the storm. Featherweight, on the other hand had no such insight and was rendered a shivering mess by the seemingly harmless words.

“Now.”

A frantic energy, derived from fear and steeped in adrenaline took hold of the pegasus’ now badly shaking limbs, and without so much as a word or a glance in any particular direction, Featherweight scurried out of the room. The older stallion’s eyes followed him as he went, only breaking contact when he was out the door and could be heard fumbling his way down the stairs. The stallion’s attention then turned to his son, who looked for all the world like he was living the final moments of his meager existence.

The stallion took a heavy pull of air, his chest expanding outward and his posture becoming impossibly straight, making the stallion look even larger and more imposing than Pip had ever seen him.

“What do you think you’re doing, Pip?” The colt could feel the edge in his father’s voice sink into him like the blade of a knife, cold and unforgiving.

“Nothing, Dad, we were just-”

“Don’t you dare lie to me! I saw you both with my own two eyes.”

“Dad, c’mon, it isn’t that big a deal-”

“Not that big a deal?!” The massive stallion advanced on his son like an out of control train, his thunderous steps rattling the room in it’s entirety and shaking a few books loose from the shelf above Pip’s bed.

“I refuse to be seen as the stallion with a...cocksucker for a son!” He was right up in Pip’s face now, the sheer volume in his voice enough to leave a painful sting in the innermost parts of the young colt’s ears. Pip attempted to scurry away, but his father was determined to make himself heard. He all but tackled his only son, pinning his shoulders to the floor. “Do you hear me?! I rather you were dead than some kind of fucking faggot!”

At this point, Pip was bawling, hot, molten tears streamed down his face and pooled at either side of his head. He hadn’t remembered ever being as scared at any point in his entire life as he was at that exact moment.

“Dad...stop…” Pip tried, his hysterical crying and the fear pricked lilt of his voice making his words come out in a shaky stutter. His spasmodic plea was about as effective as throwing rocks at a dragon.

“No, you will listen and you will listen good. If I ever catch you doing anything like this with another colt again I’ll disown you without a second thought. Is that clear?” Pip didn’t respond, he only writhed underneath his father’s massive hooves and continued to cry his eyes out.

“I SAID IS THAT CLEAR?!”

“Yes!” Pip sobbed, desperate to make the horrific ordeal end any way he possibly could.

“It better be,” the larger stallion said, finally allowing his son room to breathe. “Now, go to bed, and don’t even think about inviting your little faggot friend back here or so help me Celestia I’ll beat the both of you senseless.” With his peace said, the larger male plodded out of his son’s room, practically slamming the door on his way out.

Pip’s raw, bloodshot eyes watched him go and he could do nothing but sit there, completely and utterly shell shocked until the gravity of the situation caught up to him and hit him like a ton of bricks, the events that had just transpired playing back in his head, helping inch the young colt toward a startlingly irrefutable realization.

His father hated him, there was no two ways about it. He could try to rationalize and dispute it all he liked, but the evidence was all there. He knew what it was supposed to feel like when somepony loved you and was concerned for your well being, but he also knew that ponies didn’t speak with such hatred and vitriol about the ponies they cared for.

The sudden understanding was like salt in a fresh wound; the sting of which brought tears to his eyes and an aching pain to his chest. He picked himself up from the floor like a wounded soldier and carried himself toward his bed, settling himself under the covers to wait for the comforting embrace of sleep.

However, sleep seemed to tactfully elude him at every turn. He glanced at the clock on the wall beside his bedroom door, his weary, bloodshot eyes staring blankly as it rounded out its second full rotation.He felt the icy weight that had been settling in his chest compound as his breathing quickened and he became more distraught, on the verge of his second fit of hysterics for the night.

“Pipsqueak…?” The voice of his father asked from the other side of the door, sounding far less angry than he had been previously. Pip quickly wiped his newly dampened eyes with his hooves and cleared his throat in an attempt to make it seem as though he hadn’t been about to cry his eyes out again.

The older stallion nosed open the door and peered inside, his eyes meeting his son’s look of wide eyed confusion.

“Your mother wanted me to check on you. Wanted to know if you were alright.”

“I’m fine,” Pip sniffed. The older stallion winced.

“Can I come in?” Pip nodded, eyes still wide and wary. His father made his way inside and shut the door behind him softly, his steps slow and even as he made his way toward Pip’s bed. “Look Pip. I’m sorry about the way I acted before. I just didn’t expect to find you home tonight, especially with another colt.”

“You scared me, dad.”

I’m sorry son-It’s just-your mother and I, we’re worried about you.” Pip took a moment to process the words before he spoke.

“You don’t have to worry about me dad.” The stallion sighed, taking a seat on the edge of his son’s bed.

“Do you know what a colt-cuddler is, Pip?”

“Yeah. You mean colts that like other colts?”

“Right; and do you know why some ponies don’t like colt-cuddlers?” Pip shook his head in a slow, unsure manner-almost as though he wasn’t fully comprehending the question. “It’s because two ponies of the same sex aren’t compatible with one another.”

“What do you mean?” There was an awkward pause as the older stallion tried to find the right words.

“Well...there’s lots of ponies out there that think it isn’t natural-that true love can only be experienced by a stallion and a mare.

“Well, why can’t two stallions love each other like that?” Pip’s father scratched the back of his head with a hoof.

“Well, there isn’t exactly a law that they  can’t. It’s just-lots of ponies don’t think that it’s right.”

“Well why not?”

“I can’t say that I know why fo sure. It just  tends to make lots of ponies-especially stallions-uncomfortable.” Pip looked notably dejected at this. His father did his best to not let it get to him. “Can I ask you a question, Pip? What were you and that other colt doing?”

Pip’s eyes met his father’s for a ghost of a second before he felt he had to look away.

“Nothing, we were just playing.”

“Pipsqueak…” His father prodded, a dangerous edge to his voice. Pip’s ears fell flat against his head.

“I just wanted to know what it was like…”

“What what was like?” Pipsqueak squirmed.

“Kissing I guess…”

“But why not invite a filly over instead? What about that Sweetie Belle girl? You two seem to like each other well enough.”

“I dunno. I kinda like Featherweight.” Pip’s father sighed

“Listen, Pip. I think you’re just confused. You see, when ponies get to be around your age, they start to get new feelings they may not understand at first. I promise you that what you’re going through right now is just hormones messing with your head. Heck, I bet in a week’s time you’ll be over this silly little phase and you’ll be beating mares back with both hooves.” The bigger stallion laughed, ruffling his son’s mane with a hoof. Pip smiled half-heartedly at the gesture.

“You think so?”

“I know so,” The stallion smiled as he got up and made his way toward the door. “But for now you should try and get some rest. You don’t wanna be falling asleep in class tomorrow. The stallion took one last look at his son before he exited the room and shut the door behind him.

Pip watched his father shut the door and he surrendered to the sheets, waiting patiently to be seduced by sleep.

“Hey Featherweight, wanna go play on the swings?”

“Sure!”

“Bet I can beat ya there!”

“Fat chance.” Pip laughed and took off after his friend as he raced toward the playground’s only swing set. The two colts ran with the same excitable, youthful energy, but it seemed like no matter how fast Pip ran or how hard he pushed himself, he continued to lose ground.

“Hey, Feathers, wait up!” Pip called frantically as the young pegasus continued to get farther and farther away.

“Feathers, wait!” Pip tried again, but by this time the image of his friend in the distance had been swallowed up by an inky black nothingness.

“Featherweight…?” Pipsqueak asked, his pace beginning to slow considerably. Eventually, he had to slow to a stop and take a moment to catch his breath. As he stood there and heaved, a hushed noise seemed to bubble up from all around him-a noise that sounded like ponies whispering-ponies he knew.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, my mom told me.”

“I heard that too."

“Isn’t it disgusting?”

“Yeah, that’s like totally flippin’ gross.”

“I don’t even think it’s a real thing.”

“I bet it is.”

“I feel kinda bad for him.”

“Bad enough to be his next victim?”

“...okay, maybe not that bad.”

“I’m tellin’ you guys, don't let your guard down or one of these days he's gonna get you.”

“Cut it out, you’re scaring me.”

“It’s not me you should be scared of, it’s him.”

“You think whatever he has is contagious?”

“I don’t know but I’d rather not find out.”

Pipsqueak looked in every conceivable direction, trying to pin down the source of the ubiquitous whispers. Finally, he spotted three young colts at the edge of the playground near the fence, all huddled together in a tight circle. Theorizing they might know which way Featherweight had gone, he began trotting over.

“Oh no, I think he’s coming this way.”

“Crud, what do we do?”

“I dunno, just try and make him go away.”

“How do we do that?”

“Just ignore him.”

“Hey, guys.” All three of the colts suddenly turned toward the fence, neither one moving so much as a muscle. Pipsqueak wasn’t perturbed by their strange behavior in the least. “Have either of you seen Featherweight around at all?” The trio remained silent and still. Pipsqueak’s brows raised curiously. “Guys?”

“Go away, weirdo.” One of the colts said, earning him a glare and a kick to the foreleg from his friend.

“Ow, geez Rumble that hurt.” Rumble turned to the pinto colt with a hateful fire in his eyes.

“Just leave us alone before we catch whatever you have.” The pinto colt’s face contorted into confusion.

“What…?”

“I said: leave us alone before you infect us with your germs.”

“Germs? What are you talking about? I don’t have any germs...I think.” The three colts rounded on the young earth pony, looking not unlike prowling lions.

“You can’t lie about it, our moms told us everything.”

“Yeah, everypony in town knows by now.”

“Knows what?” The now extremely confused Pipsqueak asked.

“About you.” Rumble informed, jabbing him in the chest with a hoof. “Everypony knows what you are.”

“What do you mean.”

“Don’t play dumb, Pip. Everypony can see what a weirdo you are. Especially since you make it so obvious.”

“I don’t understand. What’s obvious?” In an instant, the playground disappeared and was replaced with Pip’s own bedroom. Pip blinked at the sudden transition and found himself staring at a much older version of his oldest and most dear friend.

“Featherweight!” Pipsqueak exclaimed, noticing he himself was now older and more mature. He moved to greet his friend, however, the pegasus made no such move. He simply sat there, staring into Pip’s eyes with an unsettling softness. “Feathers?”

In what Pip perceived as no more than a split second, Featherweight leaned forward and kissed him. He felt content enough to return the kiss but was stopped from fully enjoying it as a raucous, black hearted cackling surrounded him on all sides.

He pulled away, and just like that Featherweight was gone and he was once again engulfed by darkness. However, the mean spirited cackling persisted, joined by a trio of very distinctive voices.

“Eww, did you see that? That was totally gross.”

“I can’t believe he really did that.”

“What a freak.” Pipsqueak lowered his ears against his head to try and block out the seemingly endless mocking laughter, but it was no use.

“No, you don’t understand-” Pip tried, his eyes becoming wet with fresh tears. “It’s not- I’m not-” Another abrupt change of scenery assaulted the already distressed colt, this one bearing a striking resemblance to his own backyard.

It took Pip a couple seconds to gain his bearings, and when he had, he found himself surrounded by laughing stallions he knew as close friends of his father.

“And then I says to the guy: ‘Kiss her? I barely know her.’” All of the ponies there erupted into guffawing laughter. Pip felt distinctly uncomfortable between their much larger frames. One of the stallions clapped him on the back and handed him a beer. Pipsqueak reluctantly accepted the beverage as it was practically forced into his trembling hoof.

“So, squirt, how’s tricks?” Pipsqueak gulped nervously as the much older, much larger stallions eyed him.

“Uh...fine..I guess,” he croaked.

“You get a girlfriend yet or what?” Another questioned.

“Well, um...not really. Actually I-” Pipsqueak never got to spin the expertly crafted yarn he’d prepared for a scenario such as this, as a quick change in scenery removed all three stallions from the picture and replaced them a stupidly grinning Featherweight.

“Featherweight, please, just say something-anything. Please.” Once again, Featherweight didn’t respond. He instead sat there wearing the same goofy, carefree smile even as he began to fade into the darkness. “Featherweight!”

There was a flash followed by the complete absence of any sort of light, and when Pipsqueak’s starved eyes finally found enough errant slivers of light to hold onto, he could just make out those same massive stallions from before in the distance. As he began to make his way over, bits and pieces of their conversation started to become more clear.

“No wonder the big guy’s always so stressed out.”

“Tell me about it. If I ever found out my son was like that, I dunno what I’d do.”

“Well, if it were me I’d just pretend I didn’t have a son.”

“That sounds kinda harsh, but honestly, I can’t blame ya. I’d probly do the same thing.”

“Right? I wouldn’t want anypony makin’ any assumptions or anything. I know how to raise my family.”

“You know what they say, ‘one rotten apple spoils the barrel.”

“Now that you mention it, there always has been somethin’ kinda off about him.”

“Besides the whole queer thing?”

“He always has been a bit on the quiet side.”

“What does being quiet have to do with bein’ a homo?”

“I dunno. I mean, all the colt-cuddlers I’ve ever met were kinda that way.”

“Pfft, you should go to Canterlot some time then. I swear, all the colt-cuddlers there are so flamboyant they may as well be mares.” The stallions shared a round of hearty laughs that; to Pip, felt like bludgeons to his ears. He stumbled back several steps before taking off in a full-on sprint, the ceaseless laughter pounding away at his eardrums. In the midst of his aimless sprint, he’d ended up tripping over his own hooves; and when he finally mustered the nerve to pick himself back up, he found himself in a place he recognized all too well.

Pip’s eyes drank in what looked to be either a church or a wedding chapel, every surface bright and pristine enough to make his eyes hurt. Opulent, expertly crafted statues lined the walls and lovingly crafted molds hugged the bottoms of every wall. Towering statues-looking as though they’d been carved from solid diamond-stood resolutely throughout the hall and gold platings placed in the doors and on the edges of every window brought the whole thing together nicely.

As he continued to gawk at the lavish display of both wealth and elegance, a quiet sobbing sound caught his attention. Pipsqueak turned his head, his jaw dropping as he noticed both his father and his mother-along with a good portion of his extended family-filling out almost every pew in the gargantuan looking hall.

“I’m so proud of you, Pipsqueak,” his mother sniffled, fishing a white sanitary towel from her purse and blowing her nose with it. His father on the other hoof said nothing. He instead gave his son a prideful nod, a single tear slipping from his eye. By this point, Pip was wholly confused, however he was not awarded the luxury of analyzing the situation as a harsh clearing of the throat brought his attention to the front of the chapel.

A pony wearing the same outfits he’d seen worn by the priests and ministers at the church he used to go to in Trottingham smiled warmly at him. Pip raised an eyebrow at him before he began speaking.

“We are gathered here today to bond these budding young adults in holy matrimony.” Pip’s face blanched an unsettling shade of white and he reeled back as if they idea itself had it’s own foul odor.

“Matrimony?! You mean, like marriage?” The minister retained the same jolly half-smile, almost as if he hadn’t heard the colt in front of him nearly cough up a lung. Pip rounded on the scores of his extended family lining the pews behind him to find that they too, were all wearing the same joyous half-smile the minister was. (with the exception of his mother who obviously could not contain her emotions)

He whirled around again, this time to face the pony standing next to him on the altar, draped in a shawl that completely hid their face. He tried to reach out and remove the shawl with his hoof but it seemed as though no matter how far he stretched, he was met with nothing but thin air. The minister-who had been endlessly droning on through Pip’s miniature freak out-took a firm hold of both his front hooves and forced him to a sitting position. Using his other hoof, he joined Pip’s hooves with the mystery pony’s, still smiling genially.

“Do you-” there was a strange absence of noise and Pipsqueak strained to hear what it was the minister was saying. -”take this pony to be your lawfully wedded husband? To have and to hold. In sickness and in health. Till death do you part?”

“I do.” The shawl wearing entity said. The minister then turned his attention to Pip, who was still trying valiantly to free himself from the absurdly sturdy grip the minister had on his hooves.

“Do you, Pipsqueak, take this pony to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have to hold. In sickness and in health? For better or for worse? Till death do you part?”

“I don’t even know who this is!” Pipsqueak squawked, still struggled against the hoof holding them together but the minister’s grip was like a vice. As soon as the declaration passed his teeth, the shawl and dress began to fall away from the other pony’s form, leaving a suit clad Featherweight in it’s place.

There was a collective gasp in the hall, and Pip turned to see everyone in the chamber staring up at them with a plain mixture of surprise, disgust and disdain. He finally freed himself from the clutches of the still smiling minister and took a few terrified steps backward.

“Wait, no, this isn’t-” A heartbroken caterwauling drew his attention to the furthermost row of pews, bringing his eyes face to face with the tear-stained visage of his mother. She was so hysterical she couldn’t speak-she didn’t have to speak, the absolutely devastated look on her face told Pip everything her words could not. His father only added to the onslaught, offering his son a look filled with a disappointment so potent, that the young colt could feel the red hot pain nestling just left of the center of his chest.

“How could you do this to us?” His father spat. Pip’s only thought was to put as much distance between himself and his family as possible.

A deluge of noises joined his mother’s sobbing and his father’s condemnation, slowly rising in volume until it crashed over Pip like an angry wave. Some of the voices were like venom, spewing the most hateful and contemptuous of words at having to bear witness to such a sullied affair. Others were more benevolent in nature, open pleas to Celestia herself to spare him for committing such atrocious, vile sins. Their combined hatred was too much for the colt to manage. All he could think to do was put his hooves over his ears and curl up into a ball in the formless ether, waiting for the noises to stop.

“Please...stop.” The colt whispered, curling tighter into himself. “It’s not my fault...I didn’t ask to be this way.” Suddenly-as if by some sort of magical phenomenon-the voices stopped. However, the resulting silence did little to ease any of his many discomforts. As the cowering colt uncurled himself and moved to stand on still unsure hooves, he was temporarily blinded by a stream of silvery light that looked far too gentle to have come from the sun.

“Pipsqueak, why are you crying?” Princess Luna of all ponies asked as she descended from a makeshift moon and came to stand beside the troubled pinto colt.

“Princess Luna?!” he choked, using his forehooves to clean himself up as best he could. “Why are you here?”

“Come now Pipsqueak, who am I to ignore the distress of somepony having a nightmare?” Luna smiled good-naturedly at him, wrapping the young colt in her wing and using its tip to wipe a tear from underneath his eye. “Especially somepony whom I consider a friend?” Pipsqueak looked into the eyes of the goddess of night and reasoned that he had just been sent the ultimate trump card. If anypony could help him, it was her.

The young pinto colt wrestled himself out from underneath her wing, squared his shoulders and puffed out his chest, his face hard and serious despite the slight tremble in his jaw.

“Fix me.” He said simply, an errant tear left underneath one of his eyes. Luna blinked owlishly at him and tilted her head to the side slightly.

“What?”

“Fix me,” he repeated, more insistently this time. Luna locked eyes with the colt-whose stare was focused and unblinking-and was rendered somewhat stricken. This was no simple demand, it was a desperate plea, an unbidden show of raw emotion prostrated as plainly as the sun at midday or the moon at midnight; and even as a heavy minute came and went, the colt’s demeanor remained sharp and determined as ever.

“What do you mean ‘fix you?’ There’s nothing wrong with you from what I can see.”

”It’s not…” Pipsqueak paused. “It’s not a problem you can see.”

“Then what’s the matter?” Pipsqueak had to look away, this was something he was not prepared to admit, least of all to somepony like Luna. “Pipsqueak…”

“I like colts.” The same confident, bracing look returned to Pip’s eyes but Luna could tell how terrified he truly was too utter those words.

“Pip, there’s nothing wrong with a colt liking other colts-”

“Yes there is!” Pipsqueak growled. Luna raised her brow.

“Who said it was wrong?” Images of his father’s disapproving scowl flood Pip’s mind, but for reasons he cannot explain, he can’t bring himself to say it is him. Sensing his inner turmoil, Luna drapes her wing around him again, but he angrily shrugs off the embrace and distances himself from the crepuscular princess.

“Are you gonna fix me or not?”

“Dearest Pip. I can no more change your orientation than I can somepony’s height or their favorite food.” Pip’s eyes widened for the briefest fraction of a second and anger bleeds into his voice.

“Then why’d you even bother coming?”

“I could sense tremendous heartache and pain coming from your particular dream. So much so that it was practically calling out to me to come and aide you in whatever way I could.”

“So, if that’s true, then why won’t you help?”

“I already told you, there is nothing that I can do. It’s as much a part of you as the color of your mane or your admittedly charming accent.” Luna smiled half-heartedly, attempting to inject some levity into the situation. However, the appearance of fresh tears on the young colts face and the angry scowl present there informed her that her attempts had been all but completely ineffectual.

“So I’m destined to be a freak for the rest of my life?”

“Pipsqueak!” Luna growled, stomping one of her forehooves. “You are not a freak and there is nothing wrong with you. There are plenty of other fillies and colts that feel the exact same way you do, but that doesn’t make them freaks.” Pip could hear the princess's words, but no matter how many times she tried to reassure him and no matter the amount of conviction she put into her words, his father’s words always rang louder and much more true than hers ever did.

“Just leave…” the colt said, his eyes downcast and his voice shaky. Luna’s own eyes softened notably, the glossy sheen of concern returning in full force.

“I apologize for raising my voice. I just want you to understand that you are perfectly normal just the way you are, preferences and all. Don’t ever let anypony tell you otherwise.”

“I said leave,” the colt reiterated, still refusing to meet her eyes.

“Pipsqueak…”

“Get out! It’s my dream and I want you out of it!” Luna was admittedly taken aback by the show of brazen aggression from the young foal, but deemed it best not to exacerbate the situation.

“If that is what you wish.” Luna said, turning and unfurling her wings. “But just know that should you ever need anything, do not hesitate to call upon me.” With that, the lunar goddess took off toward the makeshift moon in the sky and phased out of the young colt’s dream altogether, leaving him alone in the darkness until Celestia’s sun returned.