Bucking Above Your Weight

Featherweight glared at the mirror. His eyes darted across his face from ugly red dot to ugly red dot. He reached a hoof upwards and scraped along his cheek, sighing. His face and hair felt so greasy that he could serve some hay fries on them. He blinked. His eyes moved down from his thick mat of dark brown hair over to his big, brown eyes and finally along his bland, cream-colored body. He reached up with both front hooves, pretending to pump a set of barbells. He chattered his teeth for a moment, wiggling his small snout.

He chuckled at how stupid he thought he looked. He leaned down onto the big, fluffy red bean bag chair behind him. He slumped all his hooves to the side, taking a deep breath. I might as well face it. Mom had an affair with an oil-soaked chipmunk. That's the only explanation. His eyes slid down along his skinny hooves over to the solid gray floor. He then just stared straight down. Line after line that he had tried with the girls from his class and from around the neighborhood bounced around in his skull.

"Hey, Twist, wouldn't you maybe be interested if..."

"Hey, Blueberry, wouldn't it be cool if maybe we could..."

"Diamond Tiara, wow, you're looking so pretty today! Maybe we..."

"You know, Applebloom, if you don't have anything to do this afternoon..."

"Sweetie Belle, I really like your mane! Maybe, you and I could..."

Featherweight closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He kicked against the bean bag in sheer frustration. It's not fair! He took a deep breath. It's just not fair at all! He stood up. He glanced around his room. Poster after poster of suave, tall, and cleanly built ponies just seemed to shine at him. He stepped over to the big image of Doctor Gunn from Secret Agent Stallions, his favorite show ever, and he ran a hoof against the glossy poster.

"Is it just a matter of years?" Featherweight asked. Doctor Gunn just smiled back at Featherweight, making that same pose with Gunn's hooves gripping a thick missile launcher as Gunn tipped his fancy black fedora. "Maybe... it's far from all of it. But it's part of it."

He turned around, walking to the end table at the corner of his room. He took a nice, long sip from his mom's tea that she had just made for him. Mom... Dad... they were less than my age when they met, weren't they? He recalled that nice line that his dad had said again and again-- "she kissed me on the cart, but she made me promise not to tell." They had just gotten their cutie marks before they had spotted each other, eyes over the crowds at the local ice cream shop.

Featherweight glanced down at the feather on his flanks. His cousin used to always joke about it being his "unbearable lightness of being". He looked over at the area in between his legs, and he felt even more terrible than before. Getting your cutie mark is one thing. It's not nearly important as... your cherry.

He had long since shoved every last conversation that he had overheard deep into his subconscious. Whenever Snails, Spike, or anyone else had bragged about their exploits while sitting around the park, he had conveniently made his exit. His cherry stung. It seemed to continuously hurt him-- like one of those nasty spider bites that lasted for weeks and weeks. This far along, pony after pony should have found a special someone. It's just the natural flow of life. What the hay is wrong with me?

He let his mind wander, and he imagined the tall, perky human girl that always hung around the restaurant where he worked. She had worn the cutest, prettiest top that he had ever seen, bouncing about with each step. It seemed so weird that human girls had those wiggling things up on their chests instead of down between their legs like pony girls, but-- at any rate-- that woman's chest looked so big that he almost felt surprised that she could stand up straight.

She had such a funny nickname-- some kind of riff on Twilight. 'Daylight' was it? I might have caught it a few times. Featherweight recalled her smooth, sleek skin along her arms and shoulders as Featherweight's own hooves moved down his flanks. He felt a rush of warmth inside of him.

Featherweight pictured her soft, cuddly cheeks and her perpetual smile. He didn't even know her real name, and yet she had burned into his mind so well that she could almost be standing around him 24/7. He felt so wonderful. His eyes blinked open, and he spotted his own reflection instead. His fantasies popped like a balloon, leaving nothing but a near-foal, near-stallion mix with a dollop of white film on his hooves.

"Enough of this!" Featherweight yelled. He felt ready to fight. He had nopony else around him besides the gangly colt in the mirror. He reached out and pretended to buck against the glass. "Horseapples!" He brushed himself off on a towel atop a bookshelf in the corner.

He took a very deep breath, almost sucking in a fly. Sulking in here doesn't help in the slightest. He stood up, and he headed out the bedroom door. I have to talk to someone. Maybe... He went through a hallway out towards the back door. Wait a second, maybe I shouldn't talk... I should look things up. He felt a light-bulb going off in his head. I'm obviously not the first colt to feel this way, and I'm sure that other, now-grown-up stallions have written about what to do.

He put on an empty saddlebag, and he headed out down Ponyville's main street. He took in the busy surroundings as he went towards Twilight's library. Pony after pony walked about doing their own business, waving at friends and clutching their coltfriends or marefriends close. All of them paid no attention to him. I might as well fade into the blasted wall of a blasted jewelry store or something. He stopped, leaning up against a long red bench besides Colgate's Dentistry. He glanced into the bushes around him, and he saw something that looked like a discarded bag of bits.

"Oooh!" he called out. He leaned over and stuck out a hoof, his rear backing up a little into the street.

*Smack!*

Somepony ran right into Featherweight's flanks. He tossed around into the bushes, feeling the branches slapping across his fur. He shot up into place, grimacing from the dozens of tiny pains. "Hey!"

"Sorry! Really, sorry!" Twilight yelled, stopping for a moment to look backward but still jogging in place. "It's another attack of radiation over-exposure!" Sweat just poured off of her face, and her mane flopped around with loose strands poking out all over.

"Attack?"

"Another human, collapsing from a solar overdose! If he doesn't get home to his planet soon, he'll probably die! I have to hurry for him! I have to treat him now!" Twilight rattled off, and she turned around. "I'm really sorry, Featherweight!" She reached out with a hoof.

Featherweight took the hoof and nodded. He could tell how Twilight really had to go. She smiled. She ran out down the street, hopping around pony after pony in the way. "Oh, poor Peaches, hang in there!"

"Humans can't stay too long in Equestria, or bad things happen to them. I knew that." Featherweight tried to keep the implications out of his mind, trying not to sully his idealistic view of pretty human women. He glanced back down to where he had leaned over. He picked up the loose bag. No bits? Rats! He suddenly noticed a small, red book.

Oh, dear, Twilight must have dropped this. She'll probably be super busy for a while. I'll just leave it at her library with Spike for her. He brushed off the dirt from the cover. Hmmm, this is interesting.

"Age-Adjustment Spells: A Study of Ethics in Magic by Garden Pruner," he read aloud. "Huh. That's an odd name for a magic pony." He opened it up and skimmed through a few pages. "I guess that these spells for ponies were first developed for plants. That's fascinating." He flipped over to the last couple chapters. He suddenly froze. "Chapter VII: Speeding Up Puberty?"

Featherweight's heart started to rattle inside his chest, making him quiver. He slid the book down into his saddlebag. He looked up at the sky. He smiled as wide as he could ever remember, feeling more determined than he ever had.

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"I don't think this is a good idea," Sweetie Belle said for the umpteenth time. She held up Garden Pruner's book as her horn glowed, and a warm, worried look flashed over her cute features once again.

"Just prepare to fire," Featherweight replied. He backed himself up against the cold, blank wall. He glanced down at the big circle that she had drawn in chalk around him. They had shoved everything out of the way, leaving him totally isolated just in case. Standing in the basement room of Rarity's boutique, they knew that nopony would notice, anyways.

"Like I said before, I think you're really over-estimating what I can do. I know that I got a real growth spurt, and my magic has gotten a lot more powerful these past couple--"

"Sweetie, please," Featherweight said, putting on a pair of thick black goggles. He clutched a set of fluffy pink earmuffs as he sat down, his bottom hooves sliding up against the small wine bottle and tiny bag of dried potions in front of him. "I know that you can do it. I know about all the risks. I take full responsibility. You just have to believe in yourself, and the spell will work."

"Featherweight," Sweetie said, and she watched as the colt poured the bag's glittery yellow contents into the wine. The alcohol turned from sparkling white to something like liquid gold. "All you need to do is to wait. You'll look different. It's... it's just natural. You know how weird Snails looked before he got older? And, goodness, so what if you find that every girl you want is taken or not interested? You just try again." She prepared to ramble on again, but she could tell from Featherweight's angry expression, his eyes narrowing, that he wouldn't listen.

"You'll never leave Spike, will you?" Featherweight asked. Sweetie felt taken aback, shuffling a step behind. Featherweight sucked down the magical wine with one gulp, with his eyes focused on Sweetie the whole time.

"Why... no," she finally replied. She took a gulp. "In our hearts, we've... it's..." She glanced around the room evasively.

Featherweight gritted his teeth. "In your heart, he's already married you. Right?" He spat out that last word, jealousy coursing through his veins like a poison.

"Right." She closed her eyes, and her horn lit up even brighter.

Featherweight coughed. He felt his hooves shivering as the potion started to take effect. He looked down, and thick blotches of nasty yellow popped up upon his belly. He tried to keep himself from panting. "Please, Sweetie. Do it for me. As a friend."

"Alright," she answered. She almost bit her lip, and she buried her face in the book.

Featherweight put the earmuffs on. It made no blasted sense why he couldn't see or hear the exact spell, but the book insisted on the point, warning about the possibility of his eyes and ears popping out of his head like corks from a bottle. He felt desperate, not stupid. He shut his eyes tight.

He felt Sweetie's magic finally rippling across his body. At first, he felt unbelivably cold, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Sensations of ticklish rubbing followed, with his body shooting bursts of half-pleasure and half-pain into his mind. He opened his mouth, moaning. Everything amped up, and his moans turned into a low hum. He couldn't believe it all. He could almost taste Sweetie's magic pouring into his mouth, licking his lips. The coldness turned into heat-- deep and powerful heat. He finally heard a loud, snapping sound inside of his brain.

"Wow, praise Celestia! It worked!"

Featherweight ripped off the goggles and earmuffs. He wiggled his head, blinking furiously. I don't feel any different. He reached out for a mirror. Sweetie ran over to him, smiling, and she turned him over to face a big plate of glass against the other wall.

"No! It didn't work!" Featherweight yelled.

"What? Are you serious? You look different!"

Featherweight sped over to the mirror. He saw a face without grease and pimples but featuring the same small snout. He looked several inches taller. His hooves seemed several inches wider. He felt stronger. And, yet, it all seemed nothing like he had expected. He pressed a hoof against the glass. I'm just a little older. It's like the big, important things are the same. Same bad expression. Same bad hair. Same silly ears. His mouth hung open. It's Sweetie! She was too weak-- the spell only half-working!

"I'm not a stallion. I'm just a teenager," he said.

"Of course!" Sweetie called out, giving him a happy hug. "No more acne, no more bad posture, and now--" She squeezed him even closer. "You're old enough to date adults!"

He broke the hug. He opened his mouth to reply, but he said nothing. An ocean of emotions tossed about inside of his mind. Am I... is... is this really so bad? He held a hoof against his larger, more chisled features. I guess I've gone from 'pathetic tween' to 'bland teenager'. That's a step up, right?

"Just call you 'Middleweight'!" Sweetie commented, throwing a towel at him.

He grabbed it, rubbed it across his shoulders, and he finally smiled.

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Melissa picked up the paper basket of hay fries, emptying it out into her mouth. She crumpled it up, threw it into a nearby wastebasket, and she slid her back against the side of the restaurant. She looked out at the couples sitting around the bright white benches just a few feet away. She rubbed her right hand along her shoulder.

"Poor Peaches," she muttered. She flashed back to seeing that cheerful, devoted guy handing her a first aid kit during her last visit to the Ponyville Clinic. Nurse Redheart stayed right at his side, a hoof rubbing up against his leg. "God... they're like husband and wife, aren't they?" Melissa recalled that soft and warm 'come here, baby' smile that the mare had given Peaches after Melissa had grabbed the kit and waved goodbye. "I can't believe that I once thought it so damn weird for a pony to find a human guy." I should have just realized things would always be weird in Ponyville.

Despite the disturbingly large influx of humans, most of them male for goodness knows what reason, something like a third or maybe half of the humans had picked up a significant other. Those ponies... I guess it's a lot less odd for one of them to end up falling in love a human compared to a dragon, a griffon, a giant friggin' snake thing, or other talking, walking things out there. Spike with Sweetie Belle makes less sense than Peaches with Nurse Redheart-- at least both of them are mammals. Melissa walked over through the benches, ponies from Roseluck to Junebug to Rarity all giving a friendly wave, and she headed out into the street.

"Ironic enough," she groused to herself, "that I'd never meet someone nice. Oh, no. How impossible." She tried to cheer herself up, thinking about the rest of her day. "Time to head on over to Pinkie's place!" That mare always brightened things up.

It rubbed Melissa pretty sore that the Canterlot and Ponyville authorities wanted to keep humans apart from each other in general, although they would never dream of implementing the kind of apartheid-like measures that would make that bland, formal policy a reality. As she walked down Ponyville's main street, she recalled having arguments with Twilight about it all. The unicorn had cried real, deep tears, surprising Melissa, as she had screamed out how humans absolutely could not stay in Equestria that long until their sun's radiation would "melt them from the inside out"-- and how putting humans in contact together simply sped all that up.

Melissa ran her hands through her long, frizzy red hair. "God. It's enough to just make you go insane when you think about it too hard." She stopped, sitting on the bench besides Colgate's Dentistry. She curled over her legs and stuck them against the end of the bench, with her flip-flops waving in the air. Everything's too damn small for us humans in Ponyville. She rubbed her long, skinny legs against the metal, looking down at how she only had about two feet between the bench and the ground. She reached into her small, bright blue jeans shorts and fingered for a pack of gum.

She chewed as she watched the ponies go by. She blew a big pink bubble out as she spotted a small white unicorn foal with tall grayish white parents. Their fluffy white manes blew in the gentle day's breeze as they grabbed their sun, everypony smiling. She popped her bubble. Families everywhere. Or couples. With boyfriends. No guys out on their own freaking anywhere.

Melissa folded her arms against her perky white top. It just didn't seem fair. For some weird reason, Equestria seemed to have ten females for every male if not more so. She had asked Twilight why, but she had tuned out pretty quickly as the long lecture about hormonal balances during fetal development began. Melissa sighed a little. Dammit, it makes me feel like a whore. But it's just... it's nothing like that. Not like I give a damn about when or where I last got laid. Not at all! I just feel so goddamn isolated.

Her eyes bounced from pony to pony. Is it really so goddamn bad for me to miss-- and, oh, miss so freaking badly-- the days when I could hang out at the University cafeteria while having a nice guy with a nice personality and nice smile pull the whole 'maybe we could do something later' routine? Mare after mare filled the bustling street, with their manes looking sharp and their hats poised atop their pretty heads.

Is it really so bad to just want to spend a little bit of time with some guy having both an open mind and a big heart, with stuff left open that maybe things could get serious later? It's just that I can't stand to be so isolated! She chuckled a little, although she didn't really have a reason. Come on! I'm not even restricting myself to a guy of the same species!

*Rustle!*

She heard a loud coughing from somewhere behind her. She glanced up. Seeing nothing, she shifted about in place on the bench, feeling curious.

To Be Continued...