Our Town (a tf/tg clop)

‘Secondly, leave without being seen.’

I mentally repeated the mantra of my escape. The dry cold air of the desert night settled on me as I look away from Our Town and into the desert. The mute thunder in my chest almost drowned out the steady hoof-fall and wing-beats of the brainwashed patrolling ponies who still plodded up and down in the main-street.

With my heart in my mouth I force myself to be as still as possible. My mobile ears swivelled towards the mainstreet, with as little movement as was possible. My pony eyes, fortunately placed - prey-like - either side of my head, blurred with concentration as I made my left eye turn towards the street so that I could sight the best moment for escaoe...

I inch away from Our Town. The discipline from hundreds of near escape throbbed through my mind, almost painfully. Once, in my reckless past, when I was just getting used to this unwanted form, I had ventured deep into a forest. I skulked deeper and deeper into the dim of that place, till even the birds overhead had become muffled and distant. My footfalls, for I still felt them to be such at that stage, fell heavily on leaflitter as I neared an awful swamp. As I passed through the swamp my body itched with fear - a feeling I now know to be my fur standing on end. I survived, despite my dread. I learned there, and in many places since, that softness, deftness, anonymity were my strength.

Edging. Ever. Closer.

The heavy thud of a Town pegasus. I tell myself my body is ice. I want to puke. I want to go home. Through an atmosphere the consistency of glue, my eye somehow pass streetward, and I am shown a dark pegasus body hanging illuminated in the light of the main-street, opposite my hiding place. I can't see where she is looking. My eye follows her slow, beating wings. At each rise and fall I feel Party Favour's thrust within me. The slow, unbearable intimacy of the pony's wing-muscles, feel like the equally unbearable intimacy of having my cavity rubbed and filled against my will. My eyes filmed with hatred and desire to become inviolate once more. I yearned for the emptiness of the desert. I truly don't know it is that stopped me sceaming.

I tear myself away from the pegasus guard. I make my way, inchingly towards the edge of the house, facing the desert. The feeling of relief when I neared the corner of the house after what felt like years, but was probably 5 minutes, was papable. My haunches are burning to gallop away from the danger. Human instincts keep that urge in check, and I thank God for it (even though I had don't believe).

I lope off into the distance.