Beantown Bug

I forgot how long my brother and I held each other. I didn’t keep track. I couldn’t keep track. I was too busy soaking in one of the greatest sensations I had ever felt in my life. It wasn’t fleeting, like the end of a good fap—it was a lasting feeling, that never went away. It filled a hole I didn’t even know I had. In fact, it felt like my stomach was a little a swollen, even though I hadn’t eaten any food. What, was I eating the good vibes of brotherly love?

Ha. Yeah, sure.

The hug came to an abrupt end at some point. Jacob flinched between my armlegs, made a small gasp, and slumped. The sensation vanished with his strength, and his noodly body slipped from my grasp. Confused, I looked down at him.

The light in his chest had shrunk. Considerably. I could barely see the little speck of orange it had become. The last time I’d seen it, it was about the size of my fis—about the size of my hoof. Or maybe my giant eyeball. That was odd. What could have—

I blanked, and just stared at the ceiling. My brain latched onto the confusion and had a field day. I wasn’t anywhere close to following every thread, but even being able to piece together one of them, in a mess of dozens, was progress. I’m not sure how long I sat there, staring at our cobweb-covered ceiling, like a doofus, but I was eventually released from my deep thinking, with a few conclusions. The most likely one was the weirdest.

I fed off of people’s souls. Or something like that. Not freaky and potentially self-destructive at all. But it was probably true, if my painfully full tummy was any indicator. Still, it didn’t seem to manifest in physical contact, or I would have done this to my brother when I first wrestled him down. I wasn’t sure if I could even do it at will. I certainly wasn’t trying to eat his soul. I knew that much.

I looked down to my brother, and saw the effects of whatever I’d done. His body had, somehow, desaturated. There were deep bags under his eyes, and his mane had become messier than it already was. As if he’d been in some midnight marathon.

“Jake?”

At the call of his name, he looked up at me, with dull, tired eyes, and mumbled something completely incomprehensible. This is how you spoil the afterglow of eating somebody’s soul. I leaned over on the futon and took one of Daddy’s pillows between my hooves.

“You look tired. Take a nap.” I pushed Jacob onto his side and tucked the pillow under his head. “I’m going to figure out what we’re going to do, uh, about all, all this,” I said, as I tossed my forelegs up and shimmied off the futon.

With Jake asleep, there wasn’t much for me to do here, except pray that souls grow back. And we didn’t have time for that. I had to put my nose down, and keep moving.

I stepped outside again. The clouds had cleared away, leaving the whole of Empty Boston to sizzle in the summer sun. This wasn’t going to be a rainy summer. I could already tell.

I couldn’t lock the door behind me. Knowing my past experience, I’d probably sheer my key in half and get it stuck in the lock. It’s amazing what simple tasks become nearly impossible when one loses their fingers. But dwelling on such things will only remind me of the futility of my situation. I didn’t have time for that. The voice, deep down inside me, told me I had to keep moving.

There were a few possibilities I had to cover. There was still nothing to tell me what was going on, and if the empty streets were any indicator, I’d never find anybody who did know. If there were any structure to what had happened last night, I could only think of one governing body that would be there. The police.

It was quite convenient that there was a station just a couple blocks away. Up on the main street, then down a little way to the west. It was easy to find, and the glass doors were always unlocked.

There wasn’t anybody to greet me at the front desk, but I expected that. It would have been a surprise if there were any police officers around. It would have been a surprised if there were anybody around.

“Hello?” I called out, just to be thorough. It crossed my mind that a police station would probably have some pretty sweet loot. They wouldn’t mind, if there weren’t any officers left to use their gear.

With that said, I was both disappointed and elated when I heard a quiet thump from the depths of the station. Then, I saw a little spark, a ball of swirling energy, just like the one I’d seen in my brother. It was faded, and winked in and out of existence, no doubt because of all the walls that were between us.

“H-hello!” I called again, louder this time. The spark swayed a bit, before it began to move. “Is anybody here?” It was moving faster now. The image resolved as the spark’s carrier came closer. It was swirling with yellows and oranges, spiked along the top, jittering side to side. Was the spark happy? Excited? I couldn’t quite tell. I didn’t have a large enough sample to understand what this new sight meant. With luck, I would soon.

I could hear it now; the sound of hooves on tile. Another small horse—another pony, like my brother. Maybe another monstrosity, like me? I couldn’t tell, not yet. But I was happy to see somebody else, regardless of what they might look like.

“Oh, thank fuck—

The carrier of this new spark fumbled with a door to the side of the desk for a moment, before they flung it open and barreled into the lobby. A little, red orange pony, with wings outstretched, stumbled on the tile floor, their hooves caught up in the folds of their now oversized police uniform. She took one look at me, let out the highest, girliest scream I had ever heard, and collapsed in a mess of red feathers and navy fabric.

The spark changed color, to white and blue, as she screamed and did her best to run from me. She didn’t get far, though. In her panicked mad dash, she slammed into the reception desk. Face first. I just watched her curl into a ball at the foot of the desk, her nose bloodied from the impact. I waited. I would wait until she’d realized I wasn’t going to tear her guts out. I would wait for the moment, and then I would descend to comfort her. I could get the talents of a police officer on my side if I played my cards right.

In the back of my mind, a more sympathetic voice echoed. Was her nose broken? I hoped it wasn’t. That would be bad—I knew jack shit about horses.

Eventually, the winged pony curled into a ball on the floor, front hooves over her eyes. I could hear her muttering the Hail Mary to herself—a prayer I recognized from my catholic school days. I was not expecting a religious woman to be a police officer. But who was I to judge? We all need something to guide us through the darkness. Some of us bring flashlights. Others look to the heavens.

I could relate. Probably. When she looped back to repeat her prayer again, I joined her, and put a hoof on her shoulder. She felt light and fragile, unlike my brother, whom at least had some solidity to his body. I had held many different glasses in my life. My brother was like a common dinner glass: robust, made for daily use and washing. The kind you could hold extra tight when it was full of a heavy liquid. The lady under my hoof however? She was like the set of festive Christmas glasses we’d fill with eggnog and pretend to like. She felt like a thin glass that, if held just a little too tightly, would shatter in my grasp. It was fascinating. So fascinating that I almost didn’t catch it when her voice died down and the prayer stopped.

Carefully, she peeked up at me from beneath her hoof. Her spark still swirled white and blue, and shuddered, but the motion had calmed, even if just a little. Progress.

“I’m a friend,” I said, “A good Samaritan come to your aid.” That got her attention. “Is your nose alright?”

“I-it’s a little r-runny,” she stammered and looked up at me with wide eyes while I took her head between my hooves and turned her muzzle toward me. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting from a closer look at her nostrils. Her nose was bleeding, and that was about all I could tell. There were a ton of capillaries and other blood vessels in the face, I was pretty sure. For heat dispersion or something. I am an artist, not a biologist.

Come to think of it, if I hit my nose hard enough, would it bleed? Would my blood still be red?

I looked back down to the officer. “What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Beth,” she said. Her name came out like a grunt. A single syllable. Just like Jake.

“I’m Peter,” I said, before I drew Beth into a soft hug, careful not to snap her frail bones. She didn’t struggle. The feeling from before returned—the same intense, orgasmic feeling I’d gotten from hugging my brother. Then I remembered what he’d looked like when all was said and done, and I released her. I couldn’t do that to Beth. I needed her to be able-bodied. It probably helped that I was full to bursting with whatever was filling my gut. It hurt.

Quit overeating, one of the voices in my head reminded me.

“W-wow,” Beth breathed, as she slumped backward against the desk, “Thank you, Peter. I didn’t know I needed that.”

I smiled. I may have done what I did for the rewards, and to feel that amazing feeling once more, but I also knew that I had done good. Just as I would have before my brain got all fucked up. Before I was turned into a monster horse with an inch of ceramic armor between my flesh and the world. Before my selfishness led me around by the nose.

I wasn’t looking for people because they would make me feel safe. I was looking for people because they would be useful.

I rose to my hooves, and I saw Beth’s heart sink a little as I towered over her. I ignored that and helped her to her hooves. “Where’s the bathroom?” I asked her, “Let’s clean off your nose.”

“We keep a box of baby wipes behind the desk.”

I smiled. A woman after my own heart. It would sure beat heading to the bathroom to wash my hands every time somebody came to the desk. And the hand sanitizer never really made me feel clean.

“Here, let me just…” She broke from my side and flopped her side against the front desk—and her hooves immediately slipped out from under her. She fanned her wings in what I could only assume was reflex, before she scrambled back to her hooves and awkwardly crawled around behind the desk, assuring me that she was, “Just fine!”

A few seconds of watching her spark bob around behind the desk later, I heard the sound of a plastic container falling to the ground.

“I’m okay! Just gimme a second,” she said.

I looked to the ceiling and shook my head. “I’m coming to help, whether you like it or not,” I said. I had expected to slip and slide on the tile floor, just like Beth had, but instead, I found my hooves planted far more firmly than they should have been. Almost as though I were still wearing shoes.

Beth snorted. Exactly like a horse. “No, no, I can handle this!” she insisted, as I rounded the corner of the desk and saw her pawing at a towelette that was still partially inside its container.

“I’m sure you can,” I said, while I rolled my eyes, “But we don’t have time to fuck around, so swallow that pride, officer.” I flopped down beside her and dragged the plastic container out of her reach. I grabbed at the towelette with my hoof. Well, I ‘grabbed’ at it, with my phantom fingers that no longer existed, and wholly expected my hoof to just sail over while the wipe daintily bent out of the way. But it clung to my hoof as though it were magnetic, and then I saw why I couldn’t slip ‘n’ slide so well: the bottoms of my hooves looked kinda funny.

‘Funny’ as in, Jesus fucking Christ, that’s scary. My hooves’ undersides were incredibly flat, and covered in tiny hooks. I could barely make out the little shapes, and some unconscious effort made them twitch around. I had magic velcro hooves. Man, what were these things picking up while I was walking around outside? I’d have to make sure to avoid any gum that assholes might’ve left on the sidewalk.

“What’re you staring at?” Beth asked me, after I’d almost entirely forgotten she was there, “And how’d you do that?” She pointed at me hoof, still half covered by the baby wipe. What, could she not see the gazillion tiny fishing hooks? If she couldn’t, then it wasn’t worth talking about. Not right now.

“Oh, nothing,” I lied, “I just spaced out for a second. C’mere.” I hooked my other leg over Beth’s shoulder and pulled her close to me.

“Ow!”

“Sorry.”