Pacific Pillagers

“Hey!”

I came to awareness with a voice shouting nearby.  I quickly caught my bearings; I was lying on my back, my legs curled up to my body, and I could feel cool air blowing on my skin.  I opened my eyes.  That's pretty difficult since they felt like they were glued shut, but with some stretching they popped open.

I saw a cement outcropping above me, surrounded by the hazy mid-morning sky.  A grey face popped into my vision staring down at me.

“You're awake.  Good!  How long have you been lying here?”

I shrugged my shoulders.  It's morning now.

I tilted my head to look down at my legs.  Rats.  They'd got all stuck to my body.  One-by-one, I flexed each of them, slowly pulling them straight as my skin peeled apart.

“Why are you so sticky?”

Man, this guy was nosey.  I glared at him as I continued to stretch my legs.

As soon as my legs were freed, I leaned over to the side.  Oh, ow!  My back was stuck to the ground.  I grunted as I rocked my body, my back gradually peeling away from the asphalt I was lying on.  This wasn't very pleasant.  Next time I slept, I'd try something else.

I guess the guy was watching this whole thing in disgust.  I didn't know, I wasn't looking at his face to tell.  But he kept quiet as he watched me slowly get up on my hooves.  Man, my legs were sore.  Once I got standing up, my legs were already wobbling.  Then I got light-headed, the blood draining from my noggin.  My vision went fuzzy and I clenched my eyes.  Jeez.  I took a deep breath, hoping I didn't teeter as I tried to regain my balance.

Finally he said something else.  “You look in a really bad way.”

You think?  I opened my eyes and slowly turned to face him.

He was showing some concern on his face.  He was a grey... stallion.  Well, my previous assumption that I got put into a completely alien body was probably bunk.  He looked more like a horse than me—though that's not quite the best way to put it—with the main difference from a horse being that he was bulkier, even if he was somehow also smaller and softer-looking.

I wasn't going to think about that any longer.  That I'm sticky is really enough indication that I'm an abomination.

I smirked at him a moment, then tried opening my mouth to talk.  My lips peeled apart, and I wet them with my tongue.  I cleared my throat, took a breath, then spoke in a raspy voice.

“I'm—mmm!”

Just like that, my lips were stuck together again.  Great.

He burst out laughing, but I already turned my back on him and started stumbling away.  I didn't realize I was dumb!  Nobody wants to talk to a dumb freak.

He trotted past me and turned back around to face me.  “Hey.  Why are you walking off?  I want to help.  How will you do on your own with your lips stuck together like that?”

I walked past him again.  He came and faced me, again.  “You're covered in dirt and rocks.  Let me help clean you off, at least!”

He took a hoof and spat in it.  As I tried walking past him again, he pressed it to my side as though trying to rub off some of the grime.  I stopped dead in my tracks as I felt it.  He half-heartedly tried pulling away, but of course it didn't work.  He had stuck himself to me, using his own spit as an adhesive.

I tried walking away from him, but his foreleg was yanked and he stumbled after me.  He pulled harder on it, and my side stung as I lost my balance and fell toward him.

“Hah, whoops!  I didn't mean to do that!” he said.

Oh, curse my skin.  This sucked.

⁘