Itsy Bitsy Teeny Weeny Little Widdle

Chapters

World's Smallest and Most Awkward Conversation
World's Smallest Power Surge
World's Smallest Mana Converter
World's Smallest Invasion

World's Smallest and Most Awkward Conversation

Twilight swallowed, frowning at the wall in the Kitchen. She couldn’t even think about it without capitalizing the K, not with how mind-blowingly big it was. The room alone was bigger than Ponyville Square.

The Giant had left them to fend for themselves. She was relieved that he(?) didn’t seem mean or dangerous, but there were so many things she wanted to ask him... things that she couldn’t ask any more. Those enormous light projections had taken huge bites out of her Mana, and it wasn’t refilling from the world’s ambient magic... because this world didn’t have any magic. Plus, she wasn’t quite as fluent in Alternate Equestrian script as she was in Standard Equestrian. Some of her friends were, but she wasn’t.

Princess Celestia and Princess Luna had used every drop of their Mana just casting the interdimensional warp spell, and the usual sources of their Mana — the Sun and Moon — weren’t present in this world, so they couldn’t cast even basic light or levitation spells.

“You okay, Twi?” asked a familiar country voice that eased Twilight’s frayed nerves. When Twilight didn’t respond, she felt two strong forelegs embrace her. “C’mon now. Talk to me, Twi.”

She shivered. “I’m just scared. So much has happened in such a short time.” She started to choke up, breathing rapid, shallow breaths. “Everything is gone. Everything. A-and we... we don’t belong here. We’re so small here. And there’s no magic. I... I feel helpless.”

“Eh, just gotta stay positive, Twi,” said the voice. “We jus’... gotta make a new life for ourselves here. Everything might not’ve made it, but everypony is still here, and that’s what’s important... even if we’re all a bit scattered.” Twilight was squeezed lovingly, and she smiled softly. “Besides, not havin’ applied magic ain’t so bad. You can still fly, can’tcha?”

“Well... yes.” She searched for words. “It’s weird, though. There’s no Mana in the air, so I have to flap my wings really fast, but I shouldn’t be able to flap them that fast, but—”

“Well then, ya should be fine.” Twilight felt a hoof gently brushing her mane. “The Giant seems like a nice stallion, or mare. Uh... I ain’t really sure. If it’s a stallion or a mare, I mean.”

“I think he’s a stallion. Maybe it’s the short mane.” Twilight sighed. “He didn’t... he just ignored me when I said there wasn’t any Mana here. I-I was hoping he would say something to the contrary.” She leaned into her friend’s furry chest, listening to her strong earth pony heart and letting the scent of apples fill her nostrils. “I’m almost out...”

She was gently squeezed again. “He’ll come back, Twi. He said he would. ‘Sides, Rainbow and Fluttershy went to keep an eye on him, remember?”

After a twenty-minute commute and elevator ride to the 20th floor of a corporate glass tower, I arrived at my workplace, the auditing firm Garry-Locksmith. Slapping my briefcase onto the big, oval desk in the empty conference room, I sat down and adjusted my suit. The latches of my briefcase click-clacked, and the case opened with a dull creak.

Inside was my handy-dandy laptop, a portfolio full of some of documents explaining Dexter Corp’s system of internal controls, a pouch full of pens and pencils, and... a tiny blue winged creature with huge amethyst eyes and garishly rainbow hair.

One could build a house on my eyebrows with how flat they were. She smiled nervously at me, her tiny squeaks even tinier than usual. She reached into my pen pouch, extracting a shivering yellow marble with a flowing pink tail.

“No.” I closed the briefcase. Panicked squeaking from inside convinced me to open it again. Instantly my nose donned a tiny blue squeaking accessory. Noticing the yellow marble starting to roll off the table, I shot my hand out to catch it. As expected, it was soft and warm. Taking it in one hand and grabbing the blue alien between my thumb and index finger, I placed them both back into the briefcase. I gave the marble to the blue alien, who eagerly took it between her front hooves. She squeaked at it, and it... uncurled.

A familiar yellow alien was now looking up at me. She seemed less scared than before, now that her blue friend was giving her a tiny pep talk. I saw her mouth move, but heard nothing. I cupped my ear and leaned in. The yellow alien sucked in a breath and tightened her chest, standing up straight, and her mouth moved again. I heard the tiniest hint of a squeak.

I sighed. “Listen, girls, I have a lot of work to do. You really shouldn’t have snuck along for the ride. I don’t think I can feed you here, and...” I looked around. “I don’t think I should let anyone else see you,” I finished quietly.

The blue alien squeaked petulantly at me. Then she squeaked louder, her posture straightening and chest tightening. She looked furious, her little teeth grit. Turning with a whip of her prismatic tail, she stuck her head inside my pen pouch, extracting a tiny notepad and a tiny pencil. She maneuvered the pencil with her mouth in a feat of impressive dexterity and wrote something on her notepad. She shoved it at me, squeaking again. I leaned in close, and I could make out what was written in what, to her, was very large font.

Stop acting like

we’re animals

that need to

be fed!

She turned the page.

And why can’t
you under-
stand me!?

I frowned. “I’m sorry... miss.” I shook my head helplessly. “Your voices are so high-pitched, I can’t make out what any of you are saying.”

She flipped the page of her notepad and scribbled something else.

My name

Is Rainbow

Dash. I’m

awesome.

She pointed at the yellow alien next to her, and her next message was in smaller font — I had to squint to read it.

Her name is Fluttershy.

She takes care of

animals.

Scribble, scribble.

She wanted to ask

you some stuff ab-

out your species.

Meanwhile, trotting across the enormous living room were a slate-gray earth mare and an off-white unicorn with large purple sunglasses. The unicorn tapped out a complex pattern with her hooves and made gestures with one foreleg as she walked.

“I don’t think so, Vinyl,” said the earth mare. “If he does, I don’t see one anywhere...” She craned her neck, looking around. The room was so large that the walls and ceiling looked blurry from the distance. The light pouring in from the windows highlighted specks of dust floating in the air. Octavia almost felt like she could touch the light and feel something solid.

+I’m telling you, Tavi, he’s gotta have one somewhere!+ Vinyl exclaimed in hoof-language, smiling brightly. +He was wearing a suit! That means he’s rich! And look — he has an ArcanoVision!+ She pointed up at the monstrous screen mounted upon the monstrous wall. +Flatscreen, too! Why wouldn’t he have a sound system?+

Octavia sighed, stopping. “He’s an alien. That speculation is completely unfounded. Now, um... Do you think that’s sunlight?” she asked, gesturing upward.

Vinyl shrugged. +Yeah? There’s no way that’s magical light. It’s too bright and too white.+

“Princess Celestia said there’s no sun in this world.”

Vinyl stared at the beams of light for a moment. +Maybe not her sun.+

“Do you think there’s a way outside?” Octavia asked. “I want to see that sun for myself... and...” She swallowed. “I want to feel earth beneath my hooves again. Not this...” She looked down, scuffing her hoof on the soft material. “...giant carpet.”

+There’s that big door the alien left through.+

Octavia looked back across the living room and down the hallway at the enormous door in the distance, blurred by the air itself. It had taken them five minutes just to walk to the center of the living room. “I don’t think we can open that. It’s taller than Twilight’s castle.”

+Everything’s been taller than Twilight’s castle since it got razed.+ Vinyl made a noise that sounded like a breathy snicker.

“Vinyl!” Octavia gasped. “That’s insensitive!”

+Chill out, Tavi. It’s all in good fun!+ Vinyl tossed her head back and laughed, though no sound came out of her throat other than breaths. +Now c’mon, let’s find the remote for the AV!+

“Would you say your system of internal controls is doing its job right?” I said, wearing my Auditor Smile™.

The CEO of Dexter Corp, a particularly disgruntled Mr. Lettuce, regarded me evenly, his hands clasped together in front of his mouth. “Yes.”

I flipped through my documents, not actually looking at them. “It looks like a Mr. Andrew Esselin has both authorization and recordkeeping duties for payments routed to ‘miscellaneous clients.’ Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

Mr. Lettuce continued to glare. “I can’t take you seriously with those birds on your shoulders.”

I glanced at my right shoulder. A pair of big, teal blue eyes peered back, nested on a tiny yellow face. I glanced at my left to see a little blue face with amethyst eyes smiling nervously at me. I sighed, glaring.

I flipped my papers again. “Just ignore them.”

Princess Celestia, ruler of Equestria, held a tiny piece of a gigantic bread loaf between her front hooves. Her mane, usually blowing in an invisible wind, was still and limp, but brushed to presentability. Her rump sat upon an enormous polished & varnished granite countertop. She brought the bread to her mouth and took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as she listened to her faithful student. Her sister, Princess Luna, was doing the same.

“I’ve been working on a method to generate Mana in this world — though, trying to do it without any ambient Mana is proving to be difficult. I can’t use runes or arcane circles, or any inscriptions...” Twilight muttered, holding up her notes in her levitation aura. She could feel her Mana reserves bottoming out. She dreaded the moment where she would lose it potentially forever, a moment that was drawing ever closer.

“Although!” she suddenly announced, turning and pointing to a... thing on the wall. It was rectangular, and held two smaller ovals within. Within each of the ovals was two smaller vertical rectangles and a small opening shaped like a train tunnel entrance. “I probed into this... opening with my magic, and I was greeted with an enormous surge of electricity! Electricity can be converted to Mana with the right equipment. Maybe I can jerry-rig something, or get Pinkie to do it...”

Suddenly, the top of the giant salt shaker nearby lifted up, revealing a smiling pink face with a hot pink mane. “You called?” Pinkie squeaked, blinking one eye and then the other.

Twilight flinched, her wings flaring out. “Pinkie! How did you get in there?”

Pinkie lifted a salty hoof and waved it. “Pfsshshhfhh,” she scoffed. “I was-I was here the whole time, Twiggly... Eh heh... Ah heh hah...” Pinkie smacked her lips, her eyes unfocusing. “There’s a loooootta salt in here...”

“Twiggly?” Twilight asked, flabbergasted.

“Twiggly.” Pinkie nodded once, a dumb smile on her face.

Twilight’s horn aura intensified, and Pinkie was lifted out of the salt, plopping unceremoniously onto the countertop. Face-down. The salt shaker top plinked as it bounced away, clattering as it swiveled to a stop. Pinkie attempted to get up, shaking for a moment, but inevitably gave up, just lying there. She giggled intoxicatedly.

“I think this bread could use some salt.” Luna smiled, looking at the open salt shaker. She blinked. “Oh, right... no magic.” She got up, holding her bread piece in one hoof, before wiping it onto some of the salt around Pinkie. She took a bite, savoring it. “Mmm!” She bent down and gave Pinkie’s midsection a big lick, causing the party mare to curl up in a fit of giggles.

“Ihihihihi! Stop it! Stop — I-I’m ticklish!”

Celestia looked mortified. “Luna! That is completely inappropriate!” Abandoning her bread, she quickly stepped over to Luna and grabbed her midsection between her white forelegs. Luna yelped as Celestia dragged her away. “Times have changed, Luna! Licking another pony is only acceptable in private contexts, and only between herdmates!”

“Release us! I mean, me! I merely wanted to—Ohhhh...” Luna suddenly went slack, her face holding a dreamy look. “Oh... oh my... the salt in this world is very... strong...”

Twilight looked even more mortified. “Princess! I’m trying to give a lecture and you’re eating salt!?” she screeched.

Luna very quickly descended into intoxication. She hiccupped, giggling to herself. “Twilight... why hast thou not... found a stallion for thy herd?” she drolled. “How canst thou have six mares in thy herd and yet no stallion?”

Twilight’s ears folded. “What!? No! W-we’re not a... w-we have too many mares for...”

“Then construct a double-herd!” Luna pronounced.

Twilight’s face twitched. “Double-herds never work! Stallions are territorial!”

“Untrue!” Luna shot back, moving her snout about to evade Celestia’s attempts to manually silence her with a hoof. “The stallions must merely beith very fond of one another before the herd is formed!”

“Argh!” Celestia yelled. “By royal decree, nopony shall consume this world’s salt! Shining Armor, enforce my decree!” She shot a look at the stallion and the alicorn mare sitting next to him.

Shining Armor saluted. “Yes, your highness!”

Princess Cadance laid a hoof on his shoulder, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Sshhh. Shhhhh, Shiny. Let the ponies have their salt-induced fun.”

Celestia scowled, still holding onto Luna but giving Cadance a sharp glare. “Cadance,” she said with a warning tone. “Your Empire’s citizens were transported to a different location than here. My sister and I have the ultimate authority in this area.”

Cadance sat up and threw her hooves up. “You don’t own this building! The Giant does!”

Celestia scowled harder. “The Giant is not a pony!”

“Princess Celestia?” Twilight asked. “Are you okay? I’ve never seen you this... defensive.”

“Do not changeth the subject, Twi-T-tiwerrr... Twiggly! Thou must find two stallions who art most fond of one another and construct a double-her—”

KER-CHUNK.

An extremely loud noise, the clack of a metallic mechanism, emanated from the gargantuan door nearby. It echoed throughout the room, causing many ponies to yell in fright, but commanding the attention of all. With an almighty creak, the door opened, and in stepped the Giant. He looked angry. Frustrated. Twice the size of an Ursa Major, he towered over absolutely everything with his strange bipedal posture. How something so large could walk on only two legs, Twilight couldn’t fathom. It violated all known laws of magic and physics... but maybe this world just worked differently.

Twilight felt her blood run cold as the giant’s deep grumbling met her ears, as he closed the door with another loud noise. Oh no. Oh no. She prayed to the highest deities that he wouldn’t turn his wrath on the ponies. She doubted that they could stop him should he decide to attack, especially without their magic.

Hearing the voices of a few ponies, he looked down. Twilight walked to the edge of the counter, looking off the intimidatingly large drop to see... Octavia and Vinyl Scratch at his feet, craning their necks to look up at him. The Giant breathed an almighty sigh as he stepped over them — thankfully not on them — and began to trudge to the living room, each of his footsteps rattling the counter on which Twilight stood. He seemed to be watching his steps.

Upon glancing at Twilight, however, his gaze softened somewhat, and he turned and approached, still watching his feet. His enormous green eyes flicked about, taking in the population of ponies eating their dinners on the massive countertop, from the giant bread loaf he had given them permission to eat.

Twilight tried to calm her hammering heart, forcing herself to smile up at him. A smile was disarming. It begat goodwill. Relief flooded her being as the Giant smiled back. Only a little bit, and it was a tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.

“Um... w-welcome home?” Twilight greeted.

“Hello, Twilight,” the Giant replied, in his deep, rumbling, commanding voice. It sounded like boulders crashing together. “I see y’all got into the bread.” He smirked. “Long day at work today. Long... frustrating day. I hope you guys didn’t miss me too much.” The Giant reached into a pocket on his blazer, extracting... Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy. They took to the air from his hand, joining Twilight on the countertop after grabbing hooffuls of bread.

“Yo, Twi!” Rainbow greeted with a cocky smirk. “Turns out the big guy’s an auditor. He, uh...” Her cockiness evaporated in seconds. She shrunk down. “I-I think we messed up his work... He was talking to another giant, and asking him stuff, and the other giant kept looking at us, and...” She morosely took a bite of her bread.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. The Giant walked away, to his living room.

Rainbow fell silent, searching for words, but finding none.

“Um...” Fluttershy muttered. “I, uh... I asked him a few things... He’s a creature called a ‘hyoomin,’ and... um... um...”

Several silent seconds passed. Seeing that the conversation had ground to a halt, Twilight looked at Luna. “Does... does that really work? The double-herds?”

Luna nodded profusely. “Indeed!”

Celestia shushed her. “No, it doesn’t!”

Rainbow perked up. “Wait, what’s this about a double-herd?” Her eyebrows rose so far, they were sucked into her mane. She adopted a sultry smile, looking at Twilight. “Are you getting to see two stallions goin’ at it, Twi?” She licked her lips. “Hot. I would be jealous, but I guess since you’re a princess and all, you get to have your pick of the lot. Oh! Did you get DP’d?”

Twilight stammered incoherently, red in the face.

Rainbow wore a shit-eating and absolutely-not-innocent grin.

“Twiggle wishes to form a double-herd with thee, the remainder of thy friends, and two stallions!” Luna squawked.

Celestia wrestled her to the ground. “Luna! Shut! Up!” she hissed.

“Nay!” Luna protested.

“Yea!” Celestia hissed back.

“I do not!” Twilight protested, stomping a hoof. “We’re not a herd! We don’t even have herds except for Pinkie!”

One of Rainbow Dash’s multicolored eyebrows returned from the bushy lands of her mane. “Don’t you and AJ kinda have a thing?”

Twilight shrugged awkwardly, complete with awkward expression. “I don’t know?” she said. “I mean, we cuddle sometimes, and she’s really sweet, but we’ve never kissed or anything and I kinda don’t want to. Something doesn’t feel right.”

Cadance nodded sagely. “Your herd needs a stallion. The stallion of a herd is the anchor that holds it together. Mare-only herds tend to dissolve quickly. There are a handful of ponies that make it work, but... they’re weird.” She smiled. “Why not that Flash Sentry guy you’ve been looking at lately? I think Applejack would like him, too.”

Twilight’s face screwed up, red as a tomato. “Uh! Um. Uh... How did you...”

Cadance’s eyes glowed as she smiled teasingly. “Princess of Love, remember? I can smell it.” She winked. “And I actually have smelled it, too. I’m just trying to help you girls form your herd.”

Twilight pressed her tail between her hind legs.

Rainbow’s sultry expression shattered like a porcelain mask, revealing an uneasy one. “Uhhhhhh... Um... sorry, Twilight, but I’m not really into... mares. Herds don’t really work for me.” She frowned.

“W-what?” Fluttershy squeaked. She looked betrayed. “I... but I... I thought...”

Rainbow sighed. “Sorry, ‘Shy. Maybe you girls can make a herd without me.” She smiled apologetically.

Cadance gave her a look. “You don’t like mares?” She blinked, her expression morphing into one of disbelief. “What? How can you not... You’re...” She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re weird.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Rainbow grumbled, scowling at her hooves.

“Excellent!” Luna squawked from beneath Celestia. “That leaveth only four mares, which beith few enough for a standard herd! Twiggly! The time for forming a herd is now!”

Twilight was pulling at her face. “Okay stop! Stop it! Stop talking about herds!” She trembled for a moment before quickly removing her hooves from her face to reveal a wide smile and shrunken irises. “So! Fluttershy!” She piped cheerfully, several hairs of her mane out-of-place. “Tell me more about these ‘hyoomins’ you speak of.”

Fluttershy perked up. “Oh! Well, hyoomins are related to chimpanzees, but much much smarter and hairless. They’re the only sapient species of this world, so they’re dominant. They’ve built a lot of interesting machines without magic, and...”

Author's Note

Disclaimer: Garry-Locksmith is an entirely fictitous company.

World's Smallest Power Surge

Wind rushed past my face. Clouds soared around me. I could feel the rubber squeeze of the goggles strapped to my face as the world turned to a blur. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach, and I felt giddy. Excited. I turned into a nosedive, my face breaking right through a cloud. I pulled up and soared parallel to the ground, my cape flapping behind me. My skin-tight rubber suit clenched my everything as I barreled straight through a row of trees, probably pissing off a local farmer. I was invincible. I was—

My nose felt itchy. There was a tiny squeaking noise coming from it.

I opened my eyes.

“Hello? M-Mister Giant? I need some help.”

There was a little white thing atop my nose, my face the only part of my body not covered by bedsheets. It had a swath of purple atop its head and another trailing from its rump. The purple seemed to be very well-groomed. Tiny, sapphire eyes stared into each of mine, alternating between them. A horn jutted from the thing’s head, but no wings flanked it.

It was dead silent in my room. I liked silence; it helped me sleep. It’s why I installed expensive sound-proof windows into my little two-bedroom flat. The only things I could hear were the omnipresent ringing in my ears and my own heartbeat.

In the silence, I could almost make out what the alien was saying to me.

“Do you have a place I could... clean myself? I, um, I fell into some dreadful filth, and there isn’t really anyplace to clean it off...”

I... I could. In the complete absence of the hum of a ceiling fan motor, the vrooming of cars outside, and the whooshing of my air conditioning unit, the creature’s squeaking was able to achieve unprecedented clarity in my ears. It was still quiet, and still high-pitched, but I could make out consonants and vowels if I focused and looked very carefully at her mouth.

“I... I can understand you...” I said as softly as I could. Yet, compared to the creature’s squeaks, my whispering was like a lion’s roar.

There was a little gasp. “So you’ll help me?”

I glanced at my clock. 3:32 A.M. I looked back at the creature. It seemed to be a female. Her little blue eyes looked apologetic. The gears in my head hissed and creaked and groaned in protest as they were forced to work outside their regular hours. I could... maybe put her in the sink. But she might drown, unless she could swim. And was my soap even safe for her to use?

My hand emerged from my bedsheets, gently plucking the alien from my nose. They really seemed to like my nose.

“Aaaah!!” the alien squeaked in fright. I could feel her little muscles shifting and her voice vibrating as her limbs flailed. Her movements reminded me oddly of a horse. “No! No! Please don’t crush me! I’m sorry! I’m sohohoreeeyy!!” she cried.

“M’not gonna hurt’cha...” I whispered, swinging myself out of bed with a sudden burst of energy that was more fraudulent than Dexter Corp’s special purpose entities. I immediately wanted to fall back into it. “I’m gonna take you to my bathroom. There’s a sink in there with some hand soap that you can use.” I began to walk to the bathroom, holding the alien between my thumb and index finger.

She was shivering. “Please don’t drop me,” she said. I decided to cup her between both of my hands. She seemed a little less terrified after that.

I entered my bathroom, flicking on the light and placing the little one on the shiny porcelain countertop next to the sink. “What’s your name?” I asked, smiling a tired smile.

“R... Rarity.” She smiled. “And you are?”

“Brian,” I said. I held the tip of my index finger out to her. “Nice to meet you.” She bumped it with a little hoof. I then proceeded to turn both handles of the sink a small amount, allowing a small stream of comfortably warm water to trickle forth. I grabbed the soap dispenser and deposited a drop near, but not on, the drain. It was one of those solid-flat-top drains that popped up to allow water in at the sides; I could seal the drain if I pulled a knob.

I gently coaxed Rarity toward it. “Get in. It’s like a shower.”

She looked up at me with her big blue eyes. I couldn’t make out what she said next over the trickling of the water. It just sounded like squeaking.

I smiled at her. “You’ll be fine, Rarity. I’m... sure the soap isn’t toxic to you or anything.”

Those big blue eyes of hers got bigger. She squeaked again, her little ears folding.

“You’ll be fine,” I repeated in a whisper.

She gulped, turned and trotted to the lip of the sink, peering down it. I frowned; it must have been a steep drop for her. I picked her up again, placing her next to the drain — which, again, did not have openings large enough for her to fall through.

She leaned down and sniffed at the drop of soap. Then, she walked atop the drain cover, dousing herself so her hair hung limp instead of coiffed. She stepped away, scooping up a hoofful of soap, and begun to lather. She squeaked when it, to her, quickly exploded and covered her in a pile of suds. I couldn’t help but snicker at the sight.

She spent a few minutes cleaning herself. I watched, just in case. And then she started to sing. It sounded a bit like a music box, the tones of her voice gentle and ringing, like teeny-tiny bells.

She eventually stepped away from the stream, squeaking up at me. I picked her up, putting her on a small towel. She rolled around for a bit to dry herself off, and I shut off the water.

“Thank you, darling,” she said. “Could you take me back to your basement? It’s a long walk.”

I held out a palm, and she eagerly hopped onto it. She was still damp. I turned off the light and made my way to my basement, turning on lights as I went and always watching my feet. Soon enough I was at the doorway — the light was still on, but the aliens all seemed to be trying to sleep near walls, objects, and inside cupboards. I could see a few walking around, their gaits sluggish and off-balance. I could see that many were covering their eyes and pretending that it was dark.

I felt kinda bad for leaving the light on, but knew that they needed it to be able to see. I set Rarity down near some sleeping aliens, and she smiled at me in thanks before beginning a trek to somewhere else in the room.

I glanced at the light switch one last time. I remembered the tiny lights the aliens could create with their bioluminescence, and decided to flick the lights off, casting the room into darkness. There were a few squeaks, but most seemed to appreciate it. A few of those tiny lights flickered to life.

I went back to bed. I would turn the basement light on again when morning came around.

The best part about waking up on a Saturday is going back to bed. Today, the gentle hiss of the rain, the distant rumbling of thunder, and the clouds dimming the sunlight was perfect for sleeping in. Although, I did get up briefly to turn on my basement light. I could see some of the little aliens get up, stretching and yawning, while some others just grumbled and covered their eyes. I swiveled around, my lips curling into a calm smile as I heard my bed calling to me.

I fell into it with a whoomph, face-down in my pillow. There I snoozed for two more hours before I heard squeaking in my right ear. I lifted my head up, turning to give an unamused expression to whichever alien wanted my attention now.

It was Twilight, standing on my other pillow. She... looked upset. She was frowning heavily, her ears folded as her body fidgeted. She squeaked and squeaked, her body language reminding me of a child trying to explain to her parents that she didn’t want to go to school tomorrow because she’s being bullied there.

I swallowed. “Twilight, use your projection magic thingy.”

She sat down, her sad eyes growing even larger. She tightened her chest and squeaked louder, squeezing her little eyes shut.

I decided to mentally clean the cobwebs out of my brain, and focused really hard on her mouth and the next words she spoke.

“I’m out of Mana! I can’t do anything any more!!” she squealed, tears dripping off her little jaw. They must’ve not been water; the droplets would’ve been huge compared to her face. “I can’t cast light spells, o-or levitation, or anything! P-Pinkie Pie hasn’t figured out how to convert the electricity from the wall thingies into Mana yet! I... I’m not sure if she ever will!”

The poor thing was crying... I frowned, sitting up and gently stroking the top of her head with a fingertip as she sat and trembled, her face in her hooves. “Look,” I said softly. “I don’t know anything about your ‘Mana,’ but you’re smart, right? Rainbow Dash told me that you were smart.” I gave her a little smile to lift her spirits. “You can do this.”

Her wet little eyes widened. “Wait, you can understand me?”

I shrugged and nodded. “I guess I figured out how after Rarity asked me for a bath in the middle of the night.”

She looked relieved. Not completely, but her figure relaxed a bit... until she frowned and hugged my finger. I could feel her shaking. “I don’t know what to do...”

I took a breath, just about blowing her over on the exhale. Whoops. I should be more careful, there. “Can I help?”

She looked up at me. “Do you know how to convert electricity to Mana?”

I shook my head. “No, but I know a bit about electricity, so maybe I can help.” I gave her another smile. She smiled slightly, rubbing her face on my finger affectionately. I tried to take my finger back, but she squeaked something that I didn’t quite catch when I tried to move it. Chewing on my lip, I took it back anyway. Twilight held on until her grip slipped and she fell backwards onto the pillow with a little pat. She scrambled back up, her mouth quivering and her eyes growing large again. She squeaked loudly at me, blubbering something, but I was unable to discern what she said.

She started crying again. It was the saddest sound I’d ever heard. Something that small shouldn’t have to feel such sorrow. I idly wondered how old she was; she said she was a “princess,” which likely meant that there was a “queen” above her, and that Twilight might be quite young. I picked her up, letting her sit on my palm, and gently pet her with a curled finger. She turned around and hugged it with her forelegs and wings, weeping.

I didn’t really blame her, not after she said something about levitation. That explained how she was able to write on that little notepad without actually touching it. Considering her lack of digits, Twilight losing her, uh, telekinesis would be like me losing both of my hands. I’d be pretty depressed after that — literally everything I do requires my hands. On top of that was the fact that her entire world was gone. She probably had a lot on her plate with no real solution. I could relate.

I gently, gently rubbed her back with a fingertip. These little creatures were insanely soft. It was like touching a flower -- soft, delicate, and fragile.

Ten minutes of comforting Twilight later, she had gotten a hold of herself. Me, Twilight, and two dozen other aliens congregated on/next to the kitchen counter. Two of them looked significantly larger than the others, towering at four inches tall. One was white with long, toothpaste-colored hair, while the other was dark blue with hair that looked a bit like smoke. They both wore regalia that screamed “royalty.” Were they queens? Was one of them Twilight’s mother? I would ask later.

I held up the plug of my toaster. “See this? This is an electrical plug. It goes into an electrical socket.” I plugged it into the wall. “Electricity runs in through this connection.” I took it out again, pointing at it. “It goes in a circuit, kinda. The big, flat prong is where it comes in, the smaller one is where it goes out. The third, circular prong is called a “ground” and prevents damage to a device from power surges caused by lightning strikes.”

KRACKOOM!!

Thank you, conveniently-timed thunder. Also, ow. That lightning strike must have hit something close by, because it was damn loud and made my pots and pans rattle a bit.

Some of the aliens starting squealing and running around on my counter. The sound was heartbreaking. “Hey, hey! It’s okay! It’s just thunder!” I said.

“Then why is it so loud!?” a pink horned one with purple hair and cyan highlights squeaked, covering her ears with her hooves and laying down, her eyes shut tight. “Ow! Ow ow ow ow!”

“It’s because y’all are so small,” I answered.

The pink one perked up and looked at me. “Wait, you can understand us now? Twilight told us that you couldn’t.”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m getting better at it.”

The aliens began to squeak amongst themselves at this new revelation. I couldn’t make out what any of them were saying, but they kept looking at me.

“What’s your name, Mister Giant?” asked a chalk-white winged alien after fluttering up to my face. Her hair reminded me of those watermelon candy straws.

“Brian,” I answered with a smile. “It’s nice to m--”

KRACK-KOW!!

Wow. That one made me flinch. The aliens were back to running around and squealing. The big white alien stood up, belting out an announcement. “My little ponies, calm yourselves! It is but mere weather!” she said, significantly louder than her subjects, but still not ‘loud’ in any sense of the word. Ponies? Is that what they called themselves?

“There’s no way that’s lightning! It sounds like a train wreck!” squeaked Rainbow Dash from atop my toaster.

I shook my head. “Oh no, it’s lighting. Big lightning. I would not recommend going outside right now. That kind of lightning is powerful enough to kill me.”

All of their eyes got really big. Their little ears folded. They started squeaking to each other indiscernibly, then frantically, then hysterically. Ohhh, I had made a terrible mistake...

“Calm! I said, calm yourselves!” yelled the big white one.

“What kind of Tartarus-born lightning can kill a creature like Brian!?” one alien shrieked. “Princess Celestia, do something!”

“Giant! Er, Brian! We are safe from the lightning within this building, yes?” “Princess Celestia” asked, fixating me with a calm purple stare that belied inner panic. Princess? Then, who was the queen? The dark blue one?

“Yes,” I said simply.

That was when the power went out with another huge crash of lightning. The ceiling light that cast a gentle glow over the room and its inhabitants went dark, as did every other light and every electronic device in the house. It was cast into near-complete darkness, only the dim light from the windows providing any sort of illumination.

My ears rung from the sheer amount of squealing, but it died down when a cyan bioluminescence lit up the table. It came from a 3-inch-tall pink alien with a horn and wings. The aliens gathered around her, shivering and squeaking. Another “princess,” I assumed. Seriously, who was the queen? Did she... not make it? Oh.

“What just happened?” squeaked the relatively-large pink one. I had the weirdest feeling that she was related to Twilight. Her mother, maybe?

“A lightning strike just fried a power pylon nearby.” I motioned upward, but the pink alien’s light was not quite bright enough to illuminate me. “All the lights in this house run off electricity and are connected to a big power grid that delivers electricity to the buildings around here. The other buildings have electric lights too. Since that pylon got messed up, the power’s out. No light for us... except for devices powered by batteries.” I smirked, extracting my iPhone from my pocket and turning on its flashlight.

Shing! My light easily overpowered the pink one’s. The aliens squeaked and shielded their eyes. I set my phone face-down on the tabletop so its light, projected from its back, could evenly illuminate the whole room, and me.

“Wait... ‘other houses?’” squeaked the big navy blue alien with smokey hair. “Are there more of your kind, dear Brian?”

“Yeah? I told you guys; me and Fluts went to work with him, and there were lots of other giants,” said Rainbow Dash, her wings buzzing as she fluttered down to the pink one.

Fluttershy said something. I still couldn’t hear her.

Rainbow’s face scrunched up adorably in confusion. “Manly?” she squeaked. “Okay, okay, I won’t call you that.” Her scrunching intensified as Fluttershy said something else to her. “What?” Her face was starting to resemble a blue raisin. She turned to face Twilight. “Twilight!!” she said indignantly.

Twilight, who was examining the toaster plug, turned to look back. “What?” she asked with a downward inflection.

“Fluttershy says she doesn’t like how you call her ‘Fluts’ in your letters to everyone,” squeaked Rainbow Dash. Twilight’s face turned into a purple raisin to match Rainbow’s.

Suddenly, the counter was vibrated intensely by a buzzing noise coming from my phone. Several aliens squeaked in fright, scrambling away from it.

I picked it up and looked at the screen.

Incoming Call From:
Mom

I smiled. I didn’t have friends, but I did have family. I tapped the green icon and held the device up to my ear. “What’s up, Mom?”

“Hi, sweetie!” she chirped over the line. “We’re gonna be a bit late for the family lunch — it’s raining pretty hard out here. Oh, and your nephews are so excited to see you! You’re on speaker, by the way.”

“Hi Uncle Brian!” chorused two familiar, young voices.

“Suhuhup, brah,” said a third cooly, my brother Simon. “Hope all that auditor stuff isn’t gettin’ too uncool, bro. We heard some stuff’s goin’ down with Dexter Corp.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, they’re not cooperating. My team is just about ready to issue a disclaimer report.”

“Daaaaaayum, bro! That’s gonna wreck ‘em!”

I could hear Mom and Simon laughing. “Well, we’ll talk more over lunch. See you in about half an hour!” Mom cooed. “Love you, Sweetie!”

“Love you too. Bye-bye!” And with that, I hung up.

I almost flinched when there was a loud beep from my surge detector and all the lights came back on. I smiled up at the ceiling. “Oh, cool, the power’s back on.”

“Was that yer family? How were ya talkin’ to ‘em just now?” asked a little orange alien with a tiny cowboy hat, who had a foreleg affectionately wrapped around Twilight. Did she have a cowboy accent, too? Ha ha ha! Wow.

I opened my mouth to reply when my breath caught in my throat. Shit. Shit. I had completely forgotten about the planned lunch with my family today. And I didn’t want to explain to them how I had made first contact with a species of teeny-tiny colorful aliens. In fact, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell anyone about them, even the government, who would definitely want to know.

I would just put it off until I sorted things out with Dexter Corp, at least.

My mouth closed with a click, and I took a breath through my nose, looking over the little eyes staring up at me from my counter. “Hey, uh, could you all just hide in my basement for a few hours while I eat lunch with my folks? I, um, I’m not sure if I want them to see you.”

Twilight looked betrayed. “What? But... I thought we were friends.” Oh no. She was pulling out the puppy-dog eyes. Or... mouse eyes, I guess. Her ears were folded.

I gave her a look. “I don’t think my nephews will be as understanding, or, more importantly, as gentle with you as I am.”

She seemed to get the hint, not squeaking another word. She and the rest of her present kind departed my countertop, the winged ones giving their groundbound bretheren lifts.

I sucked in a deep breath and bellowed, “IF ANY OF YOU LITTLE CREATURES ARE ANYWHERE IN MY HOUSE, GET BACK IN THE BASEMENT UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE!!”

The sheer volume of my voice almost knocked a few aliens out of the air, but they managed.

I suddenly heard a high-pitched keening noise coming from somewhere. I looked at the little ones taking flight from my counter, but it didn’t seem to be any of them.

I noticed that a few of the flying ones had perched on the rim of the trashcan next to the kitchen counter, peering down into it and squeaking at one another. As I approached, the noise got a little bit louder. Looking into the filth within, I realized that the noise was tiny screaming.

I reached my hands into the wastebasket, clawing aside fun-sized snack wrappers and styrofoam cups until I found the source of the noise: a mint-green horned alien that abruptly stopped wailing and peered up at me with big, wet eyes when she was uncovered. I frowned; the poor thing must’ve fallen in and gotten stuck. I reached for her, but she released a tiny shriek and scrambled away from my hand as best she could until her back was pressed against a discarded piece of cardboard, hyperventilating. One of her hind legs seemed to drag behind her.

“Calm down; I’m trying to help you,” I said. I reached for her again, and she covered her wet eyes and curled up into a ball, whimpering softly, except for that one leg that refused to move with the rest of her body. Plucking her from the garbage, I placed her onto the counter, where some of the winged aliens joined her.

“Lyra? You okay?” squeaked Rainbow Dash, pawing at the green ball of fur with a little blue hoof.

“My... my leg...” the green one sobbed. “I fell... w-when Brian roared... I was... I lost my balance... It hurts...”

And now I felt like a gigantic asshole. I quickly mulled over my options before realizing that I didn’t have any — my knowledge of first aid did not apply to creatures the size of mice. All the tools I had were too large. “I’m sorry,” I whispered pathetically.

An alien, a “pony” I should say, walked by. She was a little white one and had a red plus sign stamped on her butt. A medic? Yes; she began to examine Lyra with the scrutinizing eye of a trained surgeon. She seemed to extract a splint out of nowhere, strapping Lyra’s busted leg into it... but not before resetting Lyra’s leg with a quiet crack, causing her to start wailing all over again. Poor thing.

Lyra’s tiny yelling dissolved into a tiny coughing fit. I almost couldn’t hear it. The medic pony hefted Lyra over her back and spoke with a relatively-large winged pony, who gave the two a lift.

Within about ten minutes, all of the alien ponies seemed to be out of sight. Good. I did not want them to fall victim to the reckless hands and feet of rambunctious ten-year-olds.

I trekked to my basement, peeking within. Hundreds of little eyes regarded me. I smiled at them. “My folks will only be here for a couple hours. I’m going to leave the door cracked, but don’t go anywhere, okay?”

A few of the tiny faces nodded and squeaked in understanding.

I left, taking a deep breath. I typed, printed, and taped a piece of paper reading “DO NOT ENTER” on my basement door before preparing to confront the prepubescent terrors.

Author's Note

This is the end of the prewritten content. I hope you guys enjoyed! I spent an hour and a half wrestling with the awful Gdoc import system, and for this chapter I said "screw it" and formatted it myself instead of fixing the importer's mistakes. It took about the same amount of time but it was far less frustrating.

More content will come soon, but not immediately. See you next time! :)

World's Smallest Mana Converter

Twilight Sparkle, Pinkie Pie, and Starlight Glimmer stood before one of the “electric gateways” (name courtesy of one elated Twilight Sparkle) in the Basement, one that was particularly close to the ground. It was only about thirty hooves up, and Pinkie had already constructed a ladder out of six gigantic discarded toothpicks and a collection of miscellaneous, but no less giant, junk. It was held together with... used giant chewing gum. Gross, but effective. The party mare stood atop the huge bottle cap at the ladder’s peak, gripping a wrench with her mane and working on a strange contraption attached to the gateway.

“How’s it going up there, Pinkie?” Twilight asked, hovering slightly and examining a large floating crystal on the ground, flitting back and forth to find any cracks or imperfections in the polished stone and reviewing the sparking Mana within with a trained eye. The party mare formed a thumbs-up with her mane, making Twilight smile.

“Thank you for helping, Starlight,” Twilight said to her partner, who stood with a wide stance, her horn’s aura pulsating as it pumped Mana into the crystal. “I really need to make sure this Large Mana Crystal is sealed before we attach it to the converter.” She frowned, looking down for a moment. “We only have two of these things, and we can’t make any more unless we can get a stable flow of Mana working.”

“The others went to the other groups, right?” Starlight asked, glancing at Twilight. “Princess Celestia originally brought along about twenty.”

“Mhm.” Twilight nodded, closing one eye and turning her head sideways to get a closer look at the slowly-rotating crystal. It was about twice the size of a pony. “They were filled, too, but the warp spell must’ve pulled extra Mana from them since the Princesses didn’t have enough.” Her face screwed up in worry. “At least we made it to the other side.” She shuddered. “We could’ve ended up in the space between dimensions.”

“But we didn’t!” Pinkie squeaked from atop the contraption. “We’re fine! Everypony’s fine!”

“I just wish I knew where Spike was. I hope he’s okay,” Twilight mewled, frowning heavily. “I hope he’s with the Crystal Empire. They love him and would keep him safe.”

Starlight chewed on her lip. “Wasn’t he on a trip to visit King Thorax before... uh... y’know?”

Twilight gasped, tearing up. “Oh... oh no...” She held her head in her hooves.

“What’s wrong? Thorax is a nice guy, and I’m sure the changelings aren’t too bad.”

“That’s not what I meant, Starlight.” Twilight sat down on the floor, studying her hooves. “The warp spell was supposed to transport every living being in Equestria. The changeling hive was annexed recently, so they should’ve been included. I hope they were included...” She looked up at her ex-pupil. “The ponies here in this giant house are just the ones from Ponyville, and anypony else who was there when the spell was activated.” Several seconds passed in silence. Twilight eventually took to the air again, resuming her task.

“This... feels really weird, though,” Starlight added, frowning. “I’m used to my Mana regenerating whenever I use it. Now, it’s just going down and not coming back up.”

Twilight shrugged. “How do you think I feel? I ran out because I was using mine too recklessly. I was... I was scared, okay? I wanted to at least get Brian on our side.” Her ears folded.

Starlight smiled. “Well, you did,” she congratulated. “Good job, Twiggly.”

Twilight flinched. “What did you just call me?”

Starlight shrunk a little bit. “Twiggly?” she repeated slowly as the alicorn scowled at her.

“Okay, I know you haven’t gotten into the salt.”

Starlight glanced away for a moment. “Well... I thought the nickname was cute.”

“It is pretty cute!” said Pinkie, her voice muffled by the transformer cavity her head was in.

“Not helping, Ponka!” Twilight shot back.

Pinkie’s head lifted out of the cavity with a comedic plop, irritation plain on her pink face. “Hey! I thought we agreed we’d never speak of that night again!”

“Speak of what night again?” Starlight asked, looking between Twilight and Pinkie.

Pinkie was suddenly right next to Starlight. “The night. We’d never speak of. Again,” she hissed into her ear. Starlight yelped, jerking away, her hold on the Mana Crystal dissolving. It fell to the floor, but Twilight dove under it with an "Oof!" as the broad side hit her back.

“Starlight...” Twilight wheezed. Starlight immediately fired up her horn again and lifted the crystal back up, allowing the alicorn to pull herself away, panting.

“Pinkie! You made me drop th—...” Starlight blinked at the empty space next to her. Atop the contraption was a hot pink, curly tail. “How did you... do that?”

“That’s... that’s just a thing she does,” Twilight panted. “Don’t try to understand it. You’ll just make your brain hurt.”

Clunk!

“I got it!” Pinkie squealed in delight, hopping into the air. “It works! The electricity-to-Mana thingy works!” Stepping back onto her makeshift ladder, she used a teensy bit of her earth pony magic to give her enough strength to shove the device’s metal prongs into the socket. Immediately, the air in a radius of about sixty hooves took on a slight blue tint, the device’s Mana Crystal holster sparking with blue lightning.

Twilight’s eyes grew wide as she felt a familiar warmth seeping into her body, especially her head. The void that had been sucking at the inside of her forehead disappeared. She smiled a growing smile, a little gasp escaping her throat. “I... It does work! I have my magic back!” she squeaked. Spreading her hooves wide with a confident look on her face, she stuck her tongue out in concentration, her horn glowing a bright purple. The Mana Crystal’s levitation aura became a mixture of cyan and purple, and the huge stone was lifted up into the air.

With a ker-chak, the crystal was mounted into the device. It glowed a bright, bright blue as the electricity flowed into it, and the entire Basement took on a blue tint.

Twilight’s horn fizzled out, and the void came back for a few seconds. She blinked. “Oh. It’s... not regenerating as fast as it did back on Equus, but it’s better than nothing.” She smiled widely. “Still, YES!” She leapt into the air, flying a few small loop-de-loops in celebration. “Everypony! The magic is back!” she yelled.

A few nearby ponies gasped, their eyes growing wide as they relayed her message. “The magic is back!” “Princess Twilight figured something out!” “Hurrah!”

The whole Basement cheered.

Turning away from the Basement door after smoothing the paper sign I had placed on it, I walked to my living room with a plan to plop onto the couch until my family arrived. I just hoped that Twilight and the ponies would listen to me and stay in the basement.

I stopped when I heard familiar slashing noises and upbeat orchestral music coming from my TV. And then, an iconic roar that I could identify in my sleep. Pursing my lips, I stepped in.

Somebody was playing my copy of Monster Hunter 5 Ultimate on my Nintendo Switch.

Or, rather... somepony.

Okay, you can throw a tomato at me for that pun. I deserve it.

My eyes shot to the couch. On it was a little white horned alien and a slate-grey brown one, each gripping a side of the Switch TV Controller Pro with bonus shoulder buttons. The white one’s horn was glowing with a magenta aura, a similar aura manifesting like a bandanna around the grey one’s forehead. The grey one squeaked loudly just before the dragon onscreen launched a powerful fireball, and the white one pressed a button on the controller. The human avatar wielding a comically-oversized sword performed a spectacular sideways roll just barely in time to avoid the fireball. After more squeaks, the avatar rolled forward and struck out with its sword, giving a good cut to the dragon’s face... but, unfortunately, it was not able to roll aside in time to avoid a mighty poisonous backflip-tailwhip.

[Brian fainted.]

[Reward decreased by 2600z.]

[Reward decreased to 0z.]

[Quest failed.]

The grey pony squealed in defeat, the white one flailing its forelimbs about but not squeaking a word.

I felt an urge. A mighty need. An incredible desire to speak two certain words. But I resisted, for the immortal words “git gud” were probably inappropriate here.

The important thing was that these two aliens disobeyed me. I walked up to them calmly, staring down at them with disapproval on my face. They looked back up at me. I looked very carefully at the grey one’s mouth.

“Um... H-hello, Brian... We were... um... just helping ourselves to your recreational simulations?” she squeaked in embarrassment, her cheeks and ears glowing red.

I just stared, crossing my arms. “Did you not hear me when I said you all need to get in my basement?” I scolded.

The white one stood atop the controller, tapping on it with three of her hooves and waving one foreleg around.

“She says we were in the middle of a game and wanted to finish before we left...” squeaked the grey one.

I shook my head. “I can’t take the chance of my family seeing you.” I reached down and picked both of them up between my thumbs and index fingers, making the grey one squeal, before bringing my hands together to cup both of them and walking to the basement.

After recovering from her topple, the grey one looked indignant. “Why is it such a terrible thing for us to meet your family?”

“Two of them are very young and will not be gentle with you,” I said simply.

“Would they not listen to reason?” she argued.

“Nnnnnope,” I replied. “To the basement with you.” She squeaked something else, but since I wasn’t looking at her mouth, I couldn’t tell what she said. “And there better not be any more of you hiding around. They might get stepped on.”

I stared at the “DO NOT ENTER” sign on my basement for a moment. “Hmmmmm.” Now that I thought about it, if I was ten years old and I saw this, I would particularly want to disobey it and see what awesome secret thing was inside. Rolling the aliens into one hand, I used the other to remove the sign.

Would it be unethical to lock the basement? I really hoped my family meeting wouldn’t last too long. I didn’t want to starve the ponies. Maybe even closing it was unethical. I left it cracked for a reason — if a few ponies were late on the gun, they’d still be able to get in if the door was cracked. I really didn’t want to lock any of them out.

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

I would leave it cracked. After all, these two were indeed late on the gun.

I pushed the door open, and was greeted with a strange cooling sensation on my face. It felt less like cold air and more like a simple aura of calm. The basement seemed to have a weird blue tint as well. Was I just imagining things?

I lowered my palm to the floor, allowing the little ones to hop off. The grey one gasped, squeaking enthusiastically to her friend. The white one took off her sunglasses and looked around with wide eyes.

The aliens in the basement seemed to be crowded around an electrical outlet on the wall, in which was plugged a device I’d never seen before. It looked makeshift, like it was made with less-than-ideal materials, but the happy smiles on the ponies’ faces warmed my heart. I smiled too, wondering what was going on.

Upon seeing me, Twilight popped out of the crowd and flitted up to my face. I noticed her wings flapped much slower than before. She latched onto my nose. “Brian! We found a way to generate more Mana! Pinkie Pie finished her machine, so we have our magic back! Her machine converts electricity to Mana. I hope you don’t mind,” she squeaked, smiling coyly at me.

I was not under the impression that their device pulled enough electricity to significantly increment my electric bill, so I just smiled. “It’s cool.” Groovy. Twilight had her telekinesis back and all that. I wonder what crazy technology they were using. Aliens were advanced and stuff, right?

“The range only extends to about here, though, so we can only recharge our Mana in the basement,” Twilight added. She nuzzled my nose, smiling in contentment. “Thank you for being patient with us. And... especially me. I’m sorry you had to see me break down earlier. As the Princess of Friendship, I have an image to maintain.”

I snickered. No no, Brian. Don’t laugh at her title. Don’t laugh. Pay respect to royalty.

I started giggling. Damn it, Brian.

Twilight blinked at me, detaching from my face and hovering in front of it. “What? What’s so funny?” she asked.

I sucked in a breath, holding it and willing myself to stop chortling. “Nothing,” I said.

Her eyes got really sad. “Are you laughing at me?”

Oh no, the mouse eyes again. I sighed morosely, shaking my head. “Sorry. It’s just... a little silly to me.”

“Silly? Friendship? But... friendship is magic!”

I couldn’t stop myself from snorting. “Right,” I said.

Twilight frowned at me. “No, it really is! Friendship is magic! Stronger friendship means more magic! And I’m the Princess of Friendship, so my friendship is great and... and... stop laughing!”

I tried and failed to comply.

Twilight scowled, her horn glowing, and a teeny bolt of static electricity zapped my nose. I flinched. “Ow.” I rubbed the impact spot. I think she burnt me a little bit. I sighed, “I guess that’s what I get.”

“Is friendship not as important in this world?”

My eyebrows rose. Ohhhhh, I probably should’ve considered cultural differences. Jeeze, I was stupid. I sucked in a breath to reply, but then there was a knock at my front door. I started, blinking rapidly. “Okay, Twilight, my family’s here. I gotta go. Stay in the basement, alright?” I requested, pointing at her. “It’ll only be for a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” she said, giving me a look I couldn’t identify. I closed the door gently, leaving it cracked just in case a few stray aliens needed to get in.

I opened the front door to reveal four smiling faces. Mom, Simon, and my nephews Jerry and Gary.

“Brahhhhhh!” Simon greeted, wrapping me in a hug that smelled like a day at the beach. Saltwater, suntan lotion, and sand all assaulted my nose. “Sup? We brought eats!”

Mom smiled wider and held up a glass pan covered in tinfoil. “I made cornflake chicken casserole!”

Jerry and Gary both held up family-sized bags of Doritos and bottles of Mountain Dew. “Blaze it!” they chorused. That was such an old joke, I wanted to facepalm. Maybe kids today shouldn’t have access to the internet.

Simon turned around and held up a cooler. “And I brought the beer!”

My family just about trampled me as they entered my house, setting up quite the feast on my kitchen counter. All the while, my eyes flicked about, searching for any little eyes or technicolor fur/hair.

“So, sweetie, has anything interesting happened lately? Well, y’know, other than Dexter Corp?” Mom asked, smiling sweetly at me. I’ll be honest; she looked like a white Pocahontas.

My smile was like one chiseled into a sculpture. “Nope,” I lied, looking aside.

I could’ve sworn I just saw a rainbow tail disappear behind a cabinet. I really hoped my mind was playing tricks on me.

“Wehehell, I went surfing at Galveston a week ago or so. There was soooo much trash, brah. It was kinda sad,” Simon said. “I fell off my board ‘cause a cardboard box nailed my ankle.”

I made a face. “Gross,” I commented. Simon nodded. He continued to tell his story, with me only half paying attention, instead still scanning the environment. We listened to Simon’s admittedly hilarious surfing stories for about half an hour, me slowly eating my helping of casserole.

Jerry stood up. “I’m full,” he said, pushing away a three-quarters-full plate of casserole with Dorito-cheese-covered fingers. “C’mon, Gary, let’s go play Monster Hunter!”

Gary shot up like a rocket. “Yeah!” he squeaked.

I shot an arm out to block their path. “Wash your hands first. Seriously. No food around the Switch.” Eating food while playing video games is how you jam the buttons. I may be busy with my job at Garry-Locksmith, but my game consoles were sacred. I would not permit desecration by those too young and foolish to handle them correctly.

“Kay,” Gary and Jerry both scoffed, their footsteps thumping as they dashed across my living room to the bathroom. The sound of flowing water soon met my ears. I squinted at them. I think I had something more important to keep an eye on than the ponies... assuming they weren’t stupid enough to show themselves when I very specifically told them not to.

“I need to use the bathroom as well,” Mom said, getting up and walking away.

Simon shrugged, leaning backwards and closing his eyes.

“They... they move so fast,” Twilight muttered from her perch behind the giant flatscreen ArcanoVision, peeking up every so often to get a look. Upon seeing Brian turn his head to face her, she quickly ducked down. Her quill scribbled away on a notebook, taking notes on Brian’s rambunctious nephews. They were smaller than Brian, but they moved a lot faster and were much more clumsy. They did not watch their steps, and they seemed to bumble about without caring what objects their shins struck. After falling onto the carpet with loud bangs, they simply popped right back up and kept going. They held no regard for the well-being of things clutched in their claws, eagerly tossing them around or hitting them upon the walls or other objects. Twilight imagined the kind of carnage they would cause if they found their way to Brian’s basement. Her levitation was excellent, but the kind of power contained in creatures the size of Ursa Majors was not to be trifled with. Stealth was, by far, the best option.

She peeked above the television screen again to see Brian’s enormous face less than five hooves away, staring daggers at her. Her blood ran cold, and she squealed in fright, ducking down again and shivering.

“Twilight,” Brian whispered at a volume comparable to a pony. “I thought I told you to stay in my basement.”

Twilight rose up just enough for her eyes to behold Brian. She couldn’t stop shaking. “I... I’m sorry! I was curious!” she squeaked.

Rainbow Dash’s head popped up next to Twilight’s. “I kinda was too,” she admitted. Twilight looked to her side to see Rainbow licking at a hoofful of salt. “Also, the salt’s really good.”

“Rainbow!” Twilight scolded. “Princess Celestia issued a royal decree against eating the salt here!”

Rainbow shrugged. “S'not hurting anypony.” She smirked. “Also, have you tried the casserole Brian’s mom made? It’s great!”

One could look into Brian’s eyes and see the gears of his head turning. He stared, baffled, at Rainbow. “Wait... I thought you guys were herbivores?”

“Yeah?” Rainbow replied.

“That’s chicken casserole.”

Rainbow blinked. Several seconds passed. Rainbow stumbled a little bit, almost losing her balance. She licked at her salt again. “Tasted fine to me.”

Twilight gawked hugely at her multicolored friend. “You ate meat!?”

Rainbow shrugged awkwardly. “I dunno; I was... I was just eating the giant corn flakes and the sauce they’re in.”

“The sauce is made with chicken broth,” Brian added.

Rainbow's eyes deepened, visibly disturbed. She began licking her salty hoof with a hint of desperation. “I’m not smashed enough forfthh... this...” she slurred.

Twilight slapped Rainbow’s hoof, spilling the salt away and off the edge of the thingy holding the massive ArcanoVision to the wall.

“Nooooo!” Rainbow whined, reaching after it. She slipped and fell off, her wings flapping helplessly as her intoxicated mind was unable to get its bearings. Thankfully, Brian held his hand out to catch her, quickly placing her back on the AV mount. Rainbow tried to get up, but collapsed. “Unnhhh...” she groaned, holding her head in her hooves.

“Uncle Brian!!” one of the nephews roared. “You’re blocking the TV!”

Brian quickly grabbed Twilight and Rainbow in his massive claws, closing them around them. “Sorry,” he replied in his default massive voice tone. Twilight fidgeted in his grasp, unable to see anything, only feeling the momentum of his strides as he took her and Rainbow Dash somewhere.

The claws soon opened, dropping the two onto the floor covered with giant carpet. Twilight scurried upright, feeling the gentle glow of Mana flowing into her. She realized that she was in front of the Basement door. Brian stood over them, pointing at it, rapidly looking around to make sure the other Giants couldn’t see them. “Basement, now,” he whispered firmly.

“I just want to study your kind!” Twilight protested, frowning. She flinched, hard, when Brian’s massive claws snapped, still pointing at the doorway. The massive sound made her ears ring. “Okay, okay! Okay!” she squeaked, picking up a limp, drooling Rainbow Dash in a levitation aura and galloping through the gap in the massive door.

She heard Brian breathe an almighty sigh, his colossal footsteps walking away.

World's Smallest Invasion

BWAP BWAP BWAP BWA-

My fist shot out from the warm, comfortable depths of my bedsheets, shaking with the fury of an angry god, before calmly uncurling. My index finger poked the “OFF” button of my alarm clock with a practiced motion.

Oh boy. Another day of pestering Dexter Corp about their suspicious use of special purpose entities. I swear, these idiots were going to become the next Enron.

I liked to pretend that the way I swung myself out of bed each morning was like that cool maneuver that ninjas use to leap from their backs to a standing position, but in reality it was a pathetic, grumbling, sluggish motion of me falling unceremoniously off of my mattress and taking my comforter with me before standing up.

Ding!

With another practiced motion, I extracted a cup of steaming cream and sugar, with a little coffee added for taste, from the contraption atop my dresser.

Sip.

Yep, just the way I liked it.

Ten minutes later, I was seated at my kitchen table in one of my many suits, staring blankly at the Business section of the Dallas Morning News, pretending to read the latest damning article about Dexter Corp’s quickly-declining public image. I contributed most of the evidence there — I’m the one who found it.

Yes, I was an auditor. My job was basically wrangling corporate fat cats for information that they didn’t want to share, and using complex auditor language to get them to drop hints about what they were really doing. Did I enjoy it? Not really. I didn’t like being that guy. But hey, it paid really well, and if I got enough experience, maybe I could get a job as an internal auditor and be the guy who fixes a company’s financial statements before they get in trouble instead of being the guy who gets them in trouble.

Sip.

I decided to just flick on the TV to make me feel less lonely. I didn’t have many friends as an auditor. Go figure. Not really caring what was on, I planted my generous butt (thanks, Mom!) firmly into the couch cushion, letting it partially swallow me. I half-listened to the news anchor drone on about the latest questionable presidential legislation for about five minutes until I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and heard an animalistic squeaking noise.

I turned to look. Standing on the arm of my couch was a... uh... um... insect? I looked closer at it. It reminded me of a dog, if dogs were two inches tall, had huge eyes, purple fur, miniature bird wings, and bioluminescent protrusions from their heads. The insect looked up at me and made a squeaking noise not unlike a mouse, except much quieter and more controlled. Instead of “pheep-pheep, pheep,” it sounded more like “bee dee bee, lee dee lee.” It was tiny and high-pitched and I almost couldn’t hear it. If I didn’t know any better, I would say that the little thing’s face held a staggeringly human expression of anxiety and fear. It fidgeted uncomfortably, adjusting its wings.

I moved closer, and the “insect” trembled slightly and backed away. It squeaked a few more times, puffing its chest out, probably in an attempt to intimidate me. It waved at me with a little purple leg, continuing to squeak. I noticed that it seemed to have hair atop its head and a long, draping tail. It also had eyebrows. Eyebrows that were drawn together and upward as it stared at me, swallowing visibly. Wow. Actually, maybe it wasn’t an insect. It looked more like some tiny mammal.

I slowly reached for it with an outstretched finger, and it stared for several seconds, its trembling intensifying, before it let out the mouse equivalent of a shriek. Its bioluminescent horn glinted before it disappeared in a tiny flash of light and a sound that sounded like Minecraft’s sound effect when the player picks up an item. Where did it go? I looked about.

Not five seconds later did a similar creature flit up in front of my face, its little wings flapping like a hummingbird to keep it afloat. This one was blue, and had beautiful multicolored plumage. This close, I could see that its limbs had flat ends, almost like a horse’s hooves... and it was scowling at me. It flailed its front limbs about, squeaking angrily, before latching onto my nose with all four limbs, glaring at each of my eyes in alternation. I barely felt it. I lifted a hand with a plan to brush off what my brain was telling me was a spider, but relented when it squeaked again and batted at my nose with a little hoof. It seemed to be yelling at me, biting my nose with its little teeth and smacking it as hard as it could. It felt like nothing more than an itch.

I once again heard that sound from before, a teeny-tiny pop, and in a flash, the purple one was back, hovering in front of my face with its own wings. Its wings flapped so quickly, they were but a purple blur. It squeaked at the blue one, frantically looking between it and me. The blue one squeaked back. They began squeaking at each other in turn, as if they were having a conversation that was too high-pitched and too quiet for me to hear. The skttkllktkllktllkt of their wings wasn’t helping, either.

Slowly, carefully, I lifted a finger and gently brushed the blue creature off of my nose. It detached from my face but grabbed onto my finger, continuing its conversation. I wiggled my finger a bit until it let go. It then threw a punch at my nose. Still, I barely felt it. The purple one grabbed the blue one with its little limbs, and the two squeaked frantically at one another as they began the world’s smallest WWE match.

I shifted my position on the couch and stood up, unlatching and sliding open a nearby window so that the animals could leave if they were smart enough to figure out that it was an exit. Judging by how flies seemed to be able to crawl in through one-centimeter holes in the roof but were so extraordinarily stupid that they repeatedly tried to leave through a closed window instead of the open window next to it, I wasn’t expecting much.

Wait... how many of these things were in my house? A thought coming to mind, I looked at the floor. I almost flinched when I spotted a little orange creature staring up at me from in front of my feet. It was wearing a... a tiny cowboy hat. Oh, that was adorable. It was like a children’s toy. I smiled and shook my head, carefully stepping over it. It squeaked at me as I decided to ignore it for the time being and begin a trek to the kitchen to satiate my gnawing hunger.

I certainly wasn’t expecting the creatures to follow me as I walked to the kitchen. I also wasn’t expecting to find a fourth one sitting atop the piece of toast I was going to eat. I almost mistook it for a slice of butter until I noticed its long, swirling pink hair. It looked at me with an expression that sat somewhere between fear and awe, its little pupils dilating and its mouth hanging open.

I felt something tapping at my ankle. Peering down, I saw the orange one again, kicking at me. I bent down and picked it up between my thumb and index finger, causing it to squeak in fright, but it calmed down once its little hooves found the toast.

The blue creature flitted down and landed on the piece of toast next to the yellow one, squeaking incessantly. The yellow one looked at its blue friend, and its mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear any sound. The purple one soon landed next to them as well, squeaking up at me and pointing at itself and its friends. It seemed less scared of me now.

I blinked, my face screwing up. I had never seen animals like this before, nor insects. They reminded me of hummingbirds, horses, jewel beetles, and poisonous snakes all at once. “What are you?” I said to them.

They all jolted. The yellow one spontaneously compressed into a shivering yellow ball, the blue one began to squeak enthusiastically at me, waving its limbs around, and the purple one extracted a small flat object from its—... Were those saddlebags? Either way, it began to write on it with what looked like a tiny feather and inkpot. All without physically touching any of the objects. Wow. This was some crazy telekinetic sci-fi magic shit.

The purple one swatted the back of the blue one’s head with a hoof to shut it up before squeaking up at me. The orange one... tipped its hat to me. Wow.

I shrugged. Were these aliens? Jesus, I never thought I’d be the guy who had to make first contact. I worked in business; I spoke money, not politics. “If you’re intelligent and actually talking to me, I can’t understand you.” That set the purple creature off. It squeaked repeatedly at me, making huge and crude gestures with its forelimbs.

Its cranial protrusion shined brightly before projecting something onto the wooden kitchen table. It looked like text, but I could read it about as well as I could read Wingdings. Yep, definitely aliens. Definitely intelligent. Definitely trying to make first contact.

God damn it I had enough problems right now with Dexter Corp I didn’t want to have to deal with aliens too.

My palm met my face with force rivaling Krakatoa’s violent eruption in 1883. “I can’t read that.” I held my hand out in a “stop” signal when the creatures’ squeaking started up again. Cocking an eyebrow, I asked, “Wait, can you understand me?” The purple one nodded, more squeaks coming from its little mouth. My eyebrows rose. “Really?” I asked. Both the purple and blue aliens nodded this time. I took a breath through my nose. “Hmm.”

That was suspiciously convenient. If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was in some cheesy short story written by a fifteen-year-old. But... whatever. Aliens. If we could communicate right off the bat, that would solve a hell of a lot of problems early on. Thank God this was easy, I guess... except for the fact that I couldn’t understand them. Okay, maybe not that easy.

I looked between them. The purple one was writing on its notepad(?) again, the blue one was sitting with its forelegs crossed, disgruntled, and the yellow one was still a shivering yellow ball about the size of a marble. The orange one seemed to be trying to console its yellow friend, pawing at the ball of fur and squeaking gently at it.

I held up a finger. “Tell ya what... I’ll be right back.” With that, I turned around and opened a drawer, extracting a notepad and a pencil. Just for the hell of it, I quickly sketched Apple’s logo and wrote “APPLE” beneath it. I gripped the notepad, about to turn and show it to the aliens, when I noticed that the purple one had perched on my shoulder, peering down at my drawing. I released the notepad and pointed at it, looking at the creature. “Can you read that?” It looked at me and nodded, squeaking once. “Can you write in that... script?” It nodded again. Its horn lit up once more, and it projected a little message onto the counter beside the notepad.

Greetings from Equestria!

My name is Princess

Twilight Sparkle, but just

call me Twilight. We come

in peace and hope to

establish good relations

between our kinds.

I snorted, unable to hold back a smirk. “Twilight Sparkle?” I snickered. Twilight gave me a look, squeaking a one-syllable word at me. I assumed Twilight was a “she” since she called herself a “princess.” She squeaked at me again, before shaking her head and projecting another message onto the counter.

We have a problem,

though... your world has

no ambient Mana. I’m working

with a really limited

supply here. If I can’t

find a way to generate

more...

Mana? Okay, I’m just gonna assume that was what they called their version of electricity. And if she was running on battery, then... oh. Oh, maybe I shouldn’t be making her project these messages...

Anyway, our world was...
erased. We barely made

it out in time. We can’t

go back. Can we stay

here? At least until we

figure something out?

Please?

Erased? Oh, shit. Something bad must have happened. Really bad. The little purple thing standing on my shoulder was a... planet-orphan. “Sure,” I automatically said, smiling at her. She smiled back. It was so freakin’ cute... and really, really sad at the same time. “Just how many of you are here, though? Er, I mean, in my house.”

Twilight thought for a moment, tapping her little chin with her little hoof. Another “magic” projection shone onto the counter.

204

My eyebrows rose so far, they threatened to break free of my face and go back to their home planet. “Really?” Twilight nodded once. Twilight and her comrades were so tiny that two hundred and four of them could probably fit on my couch. “Can I see them?” Twilight nodded again, smiling and taking to the air, flitting off in a direction. She turned around and squeaked at her comrades, who promptly took off after her. The orange one rode on the blue one’s back. I noticed it didn’t have wings.

She led me down into my basement, where I could hear continuous, quiet squeaking from what sounded like hundreds of mice. Very quiet mice. Instead of pitch black due to the lack of light, my basement was populated by tiny lights that were every color of the rainbow, almost like fireflies mixed with my favorite kind of fireworks. When I instinctively reached for the light switch and flicked it on, the squeaking intensified before slowly growing silent.

My basement was covered with tiny technicolor homeless aliens. I stared at them. They stared at me. They were everywhere. They were on the floor, on my washing machine, inside my cupboards, on the railings of the staircase, and even on my fake potted plants. Many were hovering in the air, some quickly darting behind various objects as they saw me.

My basement was nice; it wasn’t dank or anything, and had nice tile flooring... but that didn’t make the situation any less tense. A few squeaks were heard, tiny, almost whispered. Twilight perched on my shoulder and bellowed a string of loud squeaks that echoed throughout the room. These squeaks were actually at mouse-squealing volume. This seemed to put her kind at ease, and they resumed moving about and softly squeaking, though they were very wary of me. I looked down to my feet, noticing the little aliens walking to and fro. They were brightly-colored, which made them easy to see. Thank God; I didn’t want to step on them.

I crouched down to make myself seem smaller, though this was still probably a Shadow of the Colossus experience for them. I could see that some of the aliens, approximately half, had large, rugged, and blocky builds, while the other half, like Twilight, were smaller and rounder. Until I was given reason to believe otherwise, I decided to assume that this was their sexual dimorphism. Still, even smaller aliens were present, usually staying close to larger ones. Children, maybe?

Some of the extra-small aliens, not even an inch tall, were climbing all over my shoes... until what I assumed was their parents came and scolded them with a few harsh squeaks. The little ones looked disappointed, but hopped off of my feet obediently.

Some of the flying ones perched on me, likely assuming it was safe because their princess was on my shoulder. A blue winged male with toothpaste-colored hair and thick eyebrows clamped onto my nose, curiously looking between my eyes with his own huge-for-his-face ones. Another one clamped onto his back, a female, I think. She looked like snow, and her hair also looked like toothpaste. She nuzzled him affectionately, and he nuzzled back, which drew a smile from me. What? It was cute. The male squeaked, and I noticed that his squeak was noticeably lower in pitch than a female’s squeak.

There were so many of them that I really didn’t think I could walk around without stepping on them, so I gently brushed the two aliens off of my face before turning around, carefully watching my steps, and leaving the basement. I left the light on so they could see, though.

Some of them followed me. Several followed me. Actually, I was certain at least fifty of them followed me. Some were in the air, and some were on the floor. I quickly turned around and held my palm at them, causing a few to squeak in fright. “Please don’t leave my basement if you can’t fly. I really, really don’t want to step on any of you,” I said. “I’ll get you guys some food and water, if, uh, if you need it.” I turned to the purple princess still perched on my shoulder. “What do you guys eat?” I whispered.

Twilight started to squeak, but then remembered I couldn’t understand her and projected a message onto the drywall next to my basement door.

We eat a lot of things.
We’re herbivores.
And yes, we also need

water. Thank you.

“Alright, thanks.” I chewed on my lip. “Actually, I’m not sure what to feed you guys. You’re so small, and most of my food is bigger than you are. I mean, I could get some sunflower seeds, but...” I snickered.

Then my watch beeped. I started, then sighed wearily. I gave Twilight an apologetic look. “Sorry, Your Highness, but I gotta go to work. You won’t break anything while I’m gone, will you?” I smiled teasingly at her. Her eyes widened and she squeaked frantically at me. She grabbed the collar of my shirt with her little hooves, trying and failing to shake it. My smile became sad. “You’ll be fine. There’s an open loaf of bread in the kitchen, and given how small you are, I’m sure it’ll feed you all for at least today. If you need water, just turn the handle on the sink.” I grabbed her between my thumb and index finger, feeling her little muscles squirm, and set her down on the floor. “I’ll be back in about... ten hours, okay?”

She looked down at the floor beneath her hooves, her ears folding and lips quivering. She squeaked quietly.

I felt my heart clench at the sight, but, aliens or no aliens, I still had to attend my daily wrestling match with Dexter Corp. The little aliens watched me as I packed up my things and disappeared out the front door.

I had a thought that maybe I was being naive by leaving them alone. I could come back to a completely messed up house, and this was a historic moment for mankind or whatever, right? ...Eh. Screw it. I would deal with it later.

Author's Note

Disclaimer: Dexter Corp is an entirely fictitious company.