Having sex is actually not much fun at first. The stretching feeling is godly but it’s also quite painful, and not all that pleasurable. Oh, did I mention I’m currently having sex with my best friend? I never knew Nick thought about me that way! Though in my defense, he didn’t, because a week ago I was taken by another. Also I didn’t have a bright yellow horse pussy.

Nick is certainly teaching me the full extent of this thing. I’m pushed up on my back, on my bed, horsey hind legs splayed to either side, while between them, is a man. From his coily haired groin juts a long, thick rod of flesh, a penetrating organ designed to get that little hole in its tip as deep inside someone’s vagina as possible. And it’s happening. To me.

Nick’s... I h-have to brace against him, because he keeps pushing his hips forward, and every time he does, that man pole of his slides deep into those yellow furred hips of mine, deep into that cleft his penis opens between my legs, so deep I can feel it strike actual resistance. I swear I can feel how far up my belly his penis is going in, touching my belly with a disbelieving forehoof right where I can feel his stiff straining. I think he’s all the way up to my belly button!

I whimper trying not to wince at the head of his penis smacking against something really sore in there. I wish I didn’t have to just put up with it. I wish I could be like Twilight, gasping with joy instead of pain. Is this why she left me? She was too ashamed to tell me I was hurting her?

But then my thoughts on Twilight, what she did to me, and how those goddamned cookies worked start getting interrupted by dizzying surges of pleasure with every pumping thrust. I guess I’m getting used to it, because I start wanting it more and more, and Nick fits in me better and better as he... ravages me.

I guess I am stretching more as time goes on, because Nick’s penis stops spreading me impossibly wide, and soon I’m struggling to stand, to shove back against him, pony to pony. He half climbs up on the bed, hands on my flanks, fucking me like a... like a pony!

“This is so much better,” I moan, the pain fading entirely with nothing left but a pleasure that was already teetering on the edge of orgasm before I even had low enough pain to feel it. Nick doesn’t answer, just fucks me harder, and his dick is so deep inside me, that stiff thrusting pole.

I’m all around him. Somehow he can just be... be in that incredible thing between my hips. I think I... might be heading towards orgasm? I don’t know what it feels like to orgasm like this! I don’t have a penis, just an inside that’s hungry for Nick’s and and something. I want him deep. I want him to be me. I want to be Twilight, and he’s me, fucking her for the very first time. “Nick!” Twilight belts out, except it’s me. I need to be Twilight for him, and... and then he stops?

“Wha...” Nick manages to say before his hulking hunched forward penetrating form collapses on top of me—holy crap!

“Nick!” I squeal again for an entirely different reason as his dead weight crushes me into the bed. As I struggle out from under him, my... his penis slides right out of my insides, and it feels weird, and he feels weird when I push against him! Like he was a... a Nick shaped bag of jello.

“What’s wrong, Nick?!” I ask laying on my side beside him, and he just lies there face down. Did I kill him?! Frantic, I grab him in my forelegs to pull him over, but it’s like dragging a bag of sand not a human being, and when Nick flops on his back, I see it. I see a very shapely looking penis. Quite easy to stare at. Considering what it is. Which is what it shouldn’t be. My breath catching in my throat, I look at the grey belly fur radiating out from his mottled horsecock and shriek,

“Oh no, it’s contagious!”

Miranda Brown was in a good mood. I wouldn’t know this, but it’s a pretty safe assumption. Her van just got off the highway, went to the car park, and she bid a fond farewell to all her friends, the girls she went out camping with. With them, she saw some flowers blooming down south, and she saw the snow melting, then she returned up to Minnesota where everything was still frozen.

Perhaps she took her car to the auto place to get her oil checked. She waited there, using her phone to play stupid flash games, and didn’t suspect a thing. Maybe she took her car to her apartment, where her roommate enthusiastically greeted her. Actually I don’t know who her roommate is so let’s say her roommate just waved an apathetic hand upon her return, manicured in black nail polish.

Mira put her things away, then made sure to check her messages. Sure enough, her boss called to leave her a message that she’s working a double shift tomorrow because “things are really tight now” as they always are. She then fantasized about working on a farm, living off of the land, and punching that fat bastard in the face. Admittedly, he’s only being the fall guy for his higher-ups who are the ones making sure everyone works as hard as possible for them, for as little pay as possible, but responsible morons like her manager, who cover for those bastards, deserve to get punched in the face, at least on a daily basis.

Wait wouldn’t that be kicked in the face now?

Well the very human Miranda resolved not to tell her overprotective brother of the cruel exploitive practices at her workplace, and instead made herself a TV dinner. Perhaps chuck wagon chicken, with at least 50% actual chicken. That’s why it took her so long to call her brother and let him know she was back. Chuck Wagon Chicken. Truly what roused her interest is that after her chicken was consumed, she recalled the prospect of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies that her brother promised to deliver halfway through the week.

On getting the voice mail to my phone, because nopony in my house was willing and able to answer the phone, Miranda left a message. “Hey, it’s me. Back from Utah, those flowers were gorgeous! Anyway give me a call when you get in. Is that offer for cookies still on the table?”

The next morning, she received no response, but how could this possibly be related to the fact that hooves can’t type a phone number? It certainly couldn’t have been our fear and shame at being discovered. Surely it was pure coincidence that I didn’t respond, or perhaps she reasoned that I was out partying on the town, as a seasoned socialite such as myself does. Calling again, my sister left a message, saying, “Hey it’s your sister. Are you around? Call me when you get this.”

Unfortunately, she then had to travel to her job at a nearby call center, and spend her days assisting customers in spending more money on her company. She resolved to quit, but didn’t exactly know what else to do with her life, now that “marry a rich dude” was off the table. Dealing with her asshole coworkers, you know the drill. Finally she got off work, returning to her apartment, somewhat dismayed that I haven’t called yet.

Figuring to surprise me, she showed up at my job—no, no, my mistake. Her boss won’t allow her to show up at my job, because we both work during the day, and she gets no vacation days for the first year. It’s her third “first year” in fact, because they always find a way to lay you off, and then hire you anew, with no legally required benefits needed. Any legitimate business is driven bankrupt by these totally legal low cost policies, and the world slips a little further into the chains of slavery.

Truly there is no greater evil than a call center.

So, instead Mira called my boss during a free moment, and seeing as I don’t work at a call center, he’d be quite worried and want to know what happened to me, since I haven’t shown up to work all week for some mysterious reason. Miranda then wanted to check if I’m at my house for some reason, which wasn’t her first thought, because why would I ever be at my house? She may have wondered if I was hurt, or worse, but instead she went back to her job.

Working there all day, though less than she did on Monday, she was distracted by the worries for her family, or former family as it were. Her chains of debt were tight though, so she devoted her day toward helping make life easier for people bent on screwing us all. Angry customers your company cheated, who are legitimately claiming you broke the law? Don’t worry the call center girls will handle them.

God I hate call centers.

It was for that reason, and that reason alone no doubt, that Miranda took until Tuesday afternoon to check on us. She found the front door to the house unlocked, unlatched, and propped open, because fuck doorknobs. Sneaking in and taking off her shoes, this polite gesture enabled her to surreptitiously travel through the house, at last sighting the living room couch.

On the couch in question, the only indication that she’d been detected were the slight twitching of our ears, as we slept there peacefully. Two little ponies cuddled together, with one pale yellow foreleg laying on the stallion’s soft, grey, furry side, one purple maned head resting on my smooth yellow furry shoulders, and one green tail with a grey stripe dangling down over the couch cushions.

Have you ever had a premonition that your sister is going to be a bat pony?

What awakens me is a continuous high pitched squeeing sound, of a little girl who’s not such a little girl anymore, but never really grew into her maturity. I lift my head, shoving up under Nick’s head, blinking muzzily at the thought that maybe the smoke detector went off? Then I turn to the right and see the source of the squealing, a woman in an overcoat with frizzy brown hair descending past her shoulders, and an irrepressable, ear splitting grin on her face.

Naturally, I get so startled that I toss Nick away like he was a giant teddy bear, then flip over the back of the couch scrambling in a panic to just get away, finally landing painfully on the floor behind it.

“Miranda!” I shout shrilly from back there, trying to overcome her surprisingly long lasting squee, “What are you doing here?!”

“Eeeee you know my name?!” Miranda exclaims climbing up to lean over the couch like a perching vulture, peering at me like Pinkie Pie peers at somepony who has never had a party. “Who are you? Are you from the show? Did you meet the main cast? Who’s your favorite pony??”

Okay... that explains a lot. She knows of the show, too.

“It’s me, Mira,” I tell her groggily, rubbing at my head to peer at the human woman perched on the couch, “I’m actually Meadowsweet.”

“Well, pleased to meet you ‘Actually Meadowsweet’,” Mira says around her earsplitting grin, “My name is Miranda Brown and I guess... welcome to Earth?”

She holds out a hand for me to shake, with fingers I don’t have, and I stare at it in confusion. “No, I’m not supposed to be a pony,” I tell Mira with a worried look, “It’s me. Meadowsweet! Your brother!”

She retracts her hand, blinking at me in confusion. And then I remember.

“Oh good grief,” I say sinking my head, “Sorry, Mira. Twi—somepony changed my name, I guess. I forgot you didn’t... do you remember somebody named... Aaron?”

“Aaron?” she asks, wide-eyed, “Is that... you?”

“Yeah,” I whimper miserably, “Sorry it’s just... something went really wrong and—”

She leaps over the couch at me like a lion, squealing again and grappling me before I can escape. “You’re so cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute!” she shouts shrilly while my ears flatten back on their own, her squeezing me and spinning around with me in her arms while I struggle to escape.

“Mira, please—” I squawk like an abused goose, “Mira!” But there’s no dissuading her with words. At last, I get enough purchase on her to pry her arms apart and we go flying in different directions as I shove her away from me hard.

“Stay away!” I shout, holding up a hoof to stop her, “Don’t touch me, or you’ll catch it too!”

“The pony is contagious?” she asks incredulously.

“Yes,” I tell her, looking around the room, “Nick? Where are yo—”

And then she’s glomping me again saying, “Eeeeeeee I’m gonna be a pony!!”

“Am I the only one who’s not okay with this?” I moan to no one in particular, hanging limply in her arms as Nick skulks up behind us.

“So, when does it hit?” Mira asks, sitting crosslegged in a circle in the living room with me and... what’s left of Nick.

“I dunno,” I mumble to Mira, giving Nick a guilty look, as he gives me a guilty one back.

The greyish unicorn remains as much of a stallion as he was when I... infected him with it. A lush purple tail lays alongside his squarer hips, and a mane of matching color falls messily over his head. His luminous, bright green eyes meet my own eyes: the color of red wine. I’m still a pale yellow mare, with a weird blue/green mane, and I’m still smaller than Nick, especially when we stand on all fours, and it feels weird.

It makes a cruel sort of sense now, that Twilight Sparkle is trying to ponify the world, by spreading it like an infectious disease. I fell for it, hook, line and sinker, and now Nick has to pay the price. He just... turned into a little pony, right before my eyes, and unlike me, he remained a stallion. A stallion I could’ve been... experimenting with, if I wasn’t so worried about getting pregnant.

“This really isn’t a good idea, Mira,” Nick says uneasily. Oddly, his voice is different now, even though he’s still male. He’s a smooth tenor, instead of a kind of nasal baritone. I’d call it an improvement, if it wasn’t so disturbing. He stayed a stallion, so shouldn’t his voice have stayed the same?

“Yeah, I know,” Mira sighs glumly, but then faces us with a pleading expression, saying, “But come onnn you’re ponies! That’s something that changes everything!”

“We need your help Mira, not to make you a pony,” I say in frustration, “We can’t use a touch screen, so our phones are worthless. We can’t go out in public because we’re not human. Nick was gonna do all the human stuff for me, and he can’t anymore! How are we supposed to fix this, if none of us is going to stay human? I don’t even have fingers anymore!”

“Technically you have four fingers,” Nick points out unhelpfully, lifting a hoof, “One for each leg.”

“You know what I mean,” I grumble between gritted teeth.

“And what am I supposed to do as a human?” Mira asks in a swanky whine, “Do your laundry? Cook your meals? Go to the office and sit on the phone while you two get to go on an adventure? You can do a lot more than you think, I think. This is genuine magic! You’re a pony, Aaron!”

I wince at that... name, but it’s what she knows and I don’t want to shock her any more than I already have. “I’m not magic though,” I tell her, “I’m just a... colorful horse.”

“Who can talk,” Nick points out unhelpfully.

“Your eyes are really colorful,” Mira says, peering at me. “I mean, they really stand out against that green and yellow. Do pony eyes even come in that shade of red?”

“I—I don’t suppose they do,” I say, looking away nervously, “I do have red eyes though, don’t I. I can’t see my own eyes, except in the mirror, so it’s easy to forget sometimes.”

“Well I think they’re beautiful eyes,” Mira says with a warm smile, “Any pony would be lucky to have the colors that you do.”

“Yeah well...” I have to hide my face behind my hoof even more now, since it’s not just my eyes that are deep red anymore. “I-it’s okay I guess.”

As time goes by, the afternoon carries on with me, a pony, trying to deal with the sudden presence of my mousy brown haired sister. I wonder if her hair would be that frizzy as a pony. I know Nick’s changed, no longer curly, but straight and wavy. His tail’s a lot shorter than mine, too. I wonder if that’s the sort of thing he’d have to trim....

A still very human Mira is relaxing on the floor against the back of the couch, the three of us sitting together back there, pretty much where I fell. The couch is between us and the fireplace, but I’m not cold at least, because I have yellow fur, I guess. The wind whistles faintly outside. And Miranda wants to turn into a little pony.

“Nick has a horn. I bet he can use magic,” Mira insists, “And you’re already doing impossible stuff. I say you just haven’t had enough practice at being a pony!”

“It really isn’t obvious how to use this,” Nick says, cautiously prodding a hoof against his blunt, pointed horn, “It feels funny, at least, but I can’t even get it to light up.”

“Okay, a lot of practice then,” Mira grants, “I’ll practice a lot, and heck maybe I’ll be a pegasus. Flying’s gotta be easier than magic, right? Rainbow Dash is a moron, and she’s great at flying!”

“Did you just call Rainbow Dash a moron?” I say in surprise, somewhat peeved at my sister’s opinions about the show, opinions which I might have been aware of, if I ever had the courage to tell Miranda I watched it. Nick’s the only one I confided into about that, but now the pony’s out of the bag, I suppose.

“It was a compliment,” Mira says with an unrepentant smile. “C’mon, I’d make a great pegasus! It’d round us out with all three tribes, and you’re gonna need a flyer with you on your adventure.”

“Still a bad idea,” Nick says flatly, “We’re not on any sort of adventure. Heck we’ve been trapped in this stupid house all week. I can’t get my horn to work, go figure, and we’re in the middle of Minnesota. There are no adventures in Minnesota.”

“If I don’t change into a pony now, I might miss my chance!” Mira whines, “Next thing you know, you two are in Equestria, and I’m...” it’s subtle, but a bit of the fire in Miranda’s eyes dies, as she says, “I’m at a call center.”

“And what if you change into a stallion, huh?” Nick counters, trying to puff up to look imposing, even though like me, he’s several heads shorter than Mira, on the floor, and several times lighter. It’s adorable.

“In that case, I think Aaron here would be in trouble,” Mira says looking at me in amusement, “Think you could handle two stallions, cutie?”

I blush saying flatly, “My name’s not Cutie.” Or Aaron, for that matter....

“Huh, so you could handle two stallions?” Mira says with a nod of impressment.

“I’m supposed to be a stallion!” I protest impotently, “... a man, whatever.”

“You seriously think she could only handle two stallions?” Nick asks Mira chidingly, “When a girl has three holes?”

“Good point!” Mira savagely replies, while I bury my face in my hooves, trying not to think about how I was just filling one of those holes earlier last weekend, before Nick transformed. Specifically, it was the one holes in my body, which I am not supposed to have, the weird feeling hole that I might theoretically be able to give birth through.

“We need one more human to become a stallion then,” Mira says practically, “Any preferences, Aaron?”

“How about myself?” I groan.

Mira replies sagely, “You are not a human.”

“And that is precisely the problem here!” I squeal, sitting up and tossing my forehooves over my head in disgust.

“Are you really that dead set on being human again?” Nick asks me with a critical look, “Frankly, you didn’t seem all that happy as one.”

“Of course I am...” I uneasily tell him, “I mean it’s... I don’t mind being a pony, or a... mare, but there are consequences to these things! What if I got pregnant? What if the government captured us? How could I possibly go to work like this? What if Twilight used some strange mind control that only affected ponies?”

Nick stares a moment, then says, “Okay, that last one was a little out there, even for you.”

“If I was a pegasus, I’d go to work and tell them to stuff it!” Mira says with a gleeful smile. “I’d get a job making the freaking weather so we could get flowers in February!”

“And what if you changed into an earth pony?” I ask her acidly.

Mira just shrugs at that, but Nick gives me a sympathetic look, saying to me softly, “I know you’d rather be a unicorn...”

“I just—” I can’t look him in the eye, staring at my pale yellow forelegs, “I just hate being so helpless,” I say to them, “I didn’t get a horn or wings. Twilight just made me this way so I’d be... helpless...”

“Well, I could give you a horn,” Nick offers kindly.

I look up at him surprised, and Nick is... waggling his eyebrows at me. “Oh for Pete’s sake,” I groan, hiding my face under my hooves again, “That was one time!”

“What’re you two talking about?” Mira asks curiously. “He did something with his horn?”

“You could say that,” Nick offers cagily. I wish he’d tell her, because I can’t bring myself to answer. I can hardly admit to myself what happened, so I’m certainly reluctant to tell my sister that her big brother might be a pregnant mare, after some very intimate exposure infected Nick with horse.

“So, how do I get in on this pony thing?” Mira queries, leaning towards us again, “How did you change Nick into a pony? Do I need to do some sort of ritual?”

Nick snorts at that, but before he can say anything, I protest to Mira,

“We’re in huge trouble because we’re ponies. You really don’t want to have to deal with this.”

“Why not?” she whines, “I don’t have anything holding me down. Heck, Nick is an engineer! How’s he supposed to do that anymore?”

“If I can figure out how to use this...” Nick says, crossing his eyes to look at his own grey, spiraled horn.

“See?” Mira replies cheekily, “So there’s no problem. You’re both worried about it too much!” She looks between us silently, then leans forward with a gleeful smile, asking eagerly, “So how did you do it?”

“We don’t exactly know how, since we haven’t been testing if it works on anyone else,” Nick says carefully, noncommitally, “We’ve been sort of quarantining ourselves the past week, in case it was transmitted by air or something.”

“Did you call the CDC?” Mira asks curiously.

“Oh, that might’ve been a good idea,” he drawls, “If we wanted to live in prison the rest of our lives.”

“Also if we could use a phone,” I mumble.

“I was thinking about it,” Nick admits leerily, “But then you sort of... burst in.”

“How fast does it take effect?” Mira asks, looking at her pale arm, “Maybe I already got it?”

“It’s really fast, actually,” I say thoughtfully, “You get sort of... dizzy, then you just kind of... fall into a heap for about... five minutes, I guess?”

“It’s definitely not air transmitted,” Nick says, giving me a look, “Mira’s been here for hours without it happening.”

“Not transmitted by casual c-contact, either,” I say returning Nick’s look with my own, “So that leaves only...”

“Yeah...” he says very wanly.

“What?” Mira asks, “Leaves what? Yeah what? Don’t leave me hanging here!”

“Do you really want to turn into a pony?” I ask Mira, looking her in the eyes and projecting as much feminine ‘my vagina is sore’ empathy as I can muster. “I mean, what are you willing to do, to be one?”

“Apparantly tie down my new kid sister and torture her with a feather until she spills the beans,” Mira replies with a roll of her eyes, “But basically anything, short of killing someone...” she grins toothily, “Unless they really deserve it.”

“N-nothing like that,” I tell her, looking to Nick who shakes his head helplessly. Facing Mira, I swallow, and tell her very uneasily, “If you want to be a pony, you might have to have... sssseex with Nick.”

Mira blinks slowly.

“Sex. With Nick,” she says.

I nod unfortunately.

“You realize he’s a pony, right?” she responds, pointing to the guilty looking stallion.

“Thaat... seems to be a requirement,” I reply, looking at Nick pensively.

“It’s... sexually transmitted?” Mira asks faintly.

“Seems that way,” I mumble, fighting a blush in my cheeks.

“So that means you and Nick...” she looks between us.

“For the record, it was my idea,” Nick says, ears going down cutel—guiltily. Not cutely. “I figured it was a good time to e-experiment, and it’s not like I could’ve got her... pregnant.”

“Not when you were a human,” I fuss at him, “But you might now, as a pony! Why else do you think I haven’t been—” my gaze snaps back to Mira, “Uhm... doing... more... experimenting,” I say, hiding under my hooves again.

“Wow, I mean... wow. You really did it with him?” Mira asks, “But you’re like... bros!”

“You know what bros don’t have?” Nick says with an unimpressed roll of his eyes, “Pussies.”

Mira suppresses a laugh at that. “You sound so dapper Nick, then you go and say that,” she says in amusement.

“He’s right though,” I tell Mira honestly, “I have a... something that Nick really enjoys, so why shouldn’t I share it? You’d do the same thing if you woke up with a—oh right you already have one.”

Flopping on my belly, I groan, “I suck at being a girl.”

“Don’t worry Aaron, I’m not 12,” Mira says in amusement, “Quite honestly, you haven’t said anything a girl wouldn’t say, if she wasn’t full of shit. I think you’d make a great girl! I’m probably not the best judge of these things, though.”

“I found her feminine enough!” Nick nickers smugly.

“I am not feminine and girls do not act like this!” I protest furiously from where I lay on the floor, lashing my tail... somehow. I can’t repeat the movement. “Girls don’t just... share their—share their... thing that they’ve got!” I tell my sister imperiously.

“I’m just saying, you were pretty unsuccessful at being a guy,” Mira replies with very little sympathy, “Maybe being a girl is an improvement!”

“How would I be any better of a girl?” I counter whinily, from my place laying despondent on the floor, “I don’t know anything about raising kids. I could get pregnant like this! I have a... a thing in me that’s just waiting to get fertilized. I can’t even cover it up, it’s open all the time.”

“And other girls don’t worry about that?” Mira says skeptically, “Face it, Aaron, you’re even girlier than I am, and I was born with that thing you’re scared of. You sure you’re not trans or something?”

“I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with my sister,” I groan from the floor there, where I lay slain by Mira’s insistence on relying on the truth, instead of telling me sweet lies. Sweet lies like how it’s perfectly normal to wait at that age, or that the right girl will come along for you someday. Well, the right girl did come along for me, and she screwed me over!

“It would explain a lot though,” Mira says, tapping her cheek with an enviably dextrous finger, “You’re what, 32, and you never even got laid? Maybe you had to change into a little girl pony before you could lose your virginity! You and Nick, I mean,” she squints one confused eye at the two of us, “It kind of makes sense, I guess? Did you really lose your virginity to Nick?”

“I didn’t lose my virginity to Nick, ” I growl at her self consciously, finally pushing myself up to a doggie-ish sitting position again, “For your information, for the past two months, I’ve been in a relationship with...oh right. I never told you.”

“When were you in a relationship?” Mira asks me in confusion, “You never told me?”

“Since a few months ago,” I tell her, with a frown, “A genuine male—uh—heterosexual relationship, and yes I was a guy, and yes it did get physical.”

“A few months?” Mira exclaims in surprise, “Aaron, you dog! Or, pony. Why didn’t you tell me? Who’s the lucky lady?”

“She wasn’t... lucky,” I tell Mira, unable to meet her eyes, “She d-dumped me last week.”

“Oh Aaron, I’m so sorry...” Mira says with eyes flooding with sympathy.

I resist the urge to grumble ‘Meadowsweet.’

“Is it because you changed into a pony?” Miranda asks.

“N—” I start to answer, and then pause. That isn’t... totally wrong. “No,” I finally tell Mira with some confidence, “I changed into a pony because she dumped me.”

Mira sits back from where she’s lounging at the dinner table. I myself would be lounging, but my long, lanky form has caught a case of the little pony, so I’m just sitting here on my haunches like a dog... on the floor... like a dog.

“That’s an... odd reaction to getting dumped,” Mira admits, “Not gonna lie.”

“It was a pretty odd situation,” I agree a little guiltily, “I can’t believe it all happened over two months... she um... seduced me pretty easily I guess. I thought she loved me...”

“Who is this lady?” Mira says with a genuine scowl that makes me shrink back, “She did what to you?!”

“I... it was...”

“He had a quick little fling with Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship,” Nick says impatiently, waving a casual hoof for emphasis from where he’s laying there on his belly, “She stole his name, and changed him into a little girl pony, then vanished laughing into thin air.”

Mira snickers. “That’s great Nick,” she says, “But I’d like to hear a story that isn’t total bullshit from Aaron here.”

“Meadowsweet,” I grumble.

“What about it?” Mira asks, tilting her head as she looks down at me.

“That’s my name,” I tell Mira irritably, “I only remember you ever calling me Meadowsweet before now. This Aaron thing is just incredibly creepy.”

“I don’t think I ever called you Meadowsweet before,” Mira says frankly.

I nod at that, ears tilting as I say, “Twilight Sparkle m-messed with my memories, I guess. I don’t remember anyone ever calling me Aaron before. It’s weirdly specific.”

Mira stares silently, then blurts out, “Wait, Nick was being serious?!”

I have to laugh at that, but it’s kind of a choked laugh. Okay it’s kind of a horsey snort, but details, details.

“He sure was,” I say in what would have been amusement if I wasn’t the little pony here. “It all started when I found Twilight Sparkle out there in the blizzard we had last December. I couldn’t believe it either. But she recovered, and we got closer, and...”

“Aaron lost his V-card to Purple Pony Pussy,” Nick helpfully concluded. “She’s been all over him since then... until she disappeared, at any rate.”

“That’s... one way to put it,” I say warily. “Anyway, so...”

“So that’s how you turned into a pony,” Mira says in disbelief, “Goddamn fucking Twilight Sparkle.”

“Not exactly,” I say, “I didn’t turn into a pony because we were... making love. Twilight made these cookies, see... and she said that four was a sufficient dosage.”

“Cookies?” Mira asks with interest.

“Twilight took them with her, so don’t get your hopes up,” I retort flatly, “But then I just... started changing into um... this.” I gesture at my lemon furred butt with a wave of a hoof.

“So... you didn’t get ponified from having sex,” Mira suggests warily.

“Y-yeah that’s right. I didn’t get ponified from having sex,” I say pretty confidently.

Nick cuts in then saying cheekily, “But I did!”

Rolling my eyes at the unrepentant dork, I tell Mira, “Yes, Nick was having sex... with... m-me and he started turning into a pony. I think the cookies just started it off, making me patient zero.”

“Oh god, so Nick would have been human when—” Mira stared at the grey stallion in horror.

“It wasn’t that bad,” Nick said with a half smile, “Aaron had a lot of practice with Twilight.”

“You... how could you do that though?” Mira asks, looking between us in horror, “Didn’t you think you were going to break her or something?” Mira gestures at me, “She’s so tiny!”

“Actually I’m pretty stretchy for my...” I say, before realizing what I said, “...size...”

Miranda presses her hands against her face, rubbing at her temples with her index fingers. “I can’t believe this happening,” she moans into them, “This shit has got to be illegal.”

“Oh I hadn’t even thought about that...” I mumur worriedly, “But... since Nick and I are both ponies now, it won’t apply to us, right?”

“So you mean if I want to be a pretty little pony,” Mira says, angrily hurling her arm to point in Nick’s direction, “I have to take that to bed with me?”

“Oh thanks,” Nick says flushing with entirely undeserved shame, “Glad I’m a that, not a he.”

“It’s really not that bad,” I tell her innocently. Then my ears sink, and I say disgusted, in a girl’s voice, “I really should stop speaking out loud.”

“Oh no, do go on with the explicit details of your horse sex,” Mira says acidly, “I so want to hear all about that.”

“If I knew another way, I’d let you know!” I squawk at her irritably, “It doesn’t help that we haven’t done it at all since then!”

“What, you want to do it again?” Nick asks me in surprise, “You wouldn’t even talk about it!”

“B-because I don’t want to do it again,” I tell him infirmly, “If we talk, then I’ll... y-y’know, start warming up to it. Then it’ll be easier to get me to do more. I don’t want to get pregnant, Nick!”

“He didn’t cum uh... finish inside you?” Mira asks, giving Nick a thoughtful look.

“Oh don’t look at me like I was even thinking at that point,” Nick says crossly, “I started turning into a pony and my whole body just collapsed like a sack full of jello. It was weird, and I was crushing her!”

“I-it wasn’t all that bad,” I cut in, red-faced, “I just... I got out from under him, and it’s just his... thing changed first. B-because he caught the pony from me. From my... sex organs.”

“And now that he’s a pony, you can’t have sex with him,” Mira says disapprovingly. Wait disapprovingly?!

“Hey, I’ve offered,” Nick says, “There are plenty of things we could do that isn’t going to get any uh... pony pregnant.”

“It was hard enough to learn to walk,” I tell Nick shyly, trying not to remember how his human penis felt sliding inside me. “I–I’m just not ready for... for more, even if it’s just oral.”

“You turned down cunnilingus?!” Mira declares at me, “You really are a girl!”

“No I’m not!” I protest, “I just... I’m just not ready yet!”

“Total girl,” Mira asserts insistently, “Next you’ll be saying you’re gonna wait for the right man to come around, because you only open your legs for the best.”

“Girls are not all like that!” I attest furiously, “I’m just not ready for him to... to lick me down there!”

She snickers, and I look to Nick, asking in exasperation, “Nick, back me up here!”

Nick just slowly peeks his tongue out of his pony mouth.

With Mira here, it looks like there’s going to be one more person for dinner today. That sort of sobers Mira up, when she finds that our house is already getting low on food. Her optimism is unquenchable though, and she insists that I at least try to prepare something besides raw vegetables, bread and hay.

I have to bargain with her to do something so simple as get a frozen pizza from the store so that we can stop going insane from eating nothing but raw vegetables, bread and hay. Oh no, clearly we can’t just eat pre-prepared food. As far as she’s concerned, we can only eat food we have to prepare ourselves, good home-cooked meals, because clearly we have hands with which to prepare the food, so why would we eat it pre-prepared?

And why would we indulge ourselves now, when there’s clearly no danger that we’ll shortly end up homeless in the woods, subsisting off of nuts and berries, or... subsisting off of nothing and nothing, if we stay in Minnesota. No, we have to use our magical pony powers that don’t exist, to prepare a sumptuous feast. A frozen pizza? Heaven forbid! Miranda knows we ponies are too good for such things!

So she caves to my whining eventually, and leaves to pick up the pizza, but I have to fulfill my half of the bargain. So I find myself standing on a chair, pulled up to the counter, prepared to engage my magical pony powers. My yellow forehooves are braced up on the kitchen counter, and Nick is below, bracing the chair with his own weight, saying, “How’s it going up there?”

“F-fine,” I say, trying desperately to find a way out of Mira’s very reasonable request, but alas all I find before me is a deadly looking sharp cutting knife, a block of parmesan cheese, and a deadly, flesh shredding cheese grater. “Alright,” I gulp dryly, “I’m gonna give this a... a shot. Just do whatever, right? Just um... fake it until you make it.”

“If you’re too nervous, we can skip on the parmesan, and find something... else to do,” Nick says worriedly.

Shaking my head, I say, “No I got this. Just give me a second.”

Closing my eyes and trying to let my mind go blank, I slowly inhale and exhale. Then I open my eyes and grab the cheese. The block seems a lot bigger, with my smaller size, and I just hook my hoof over it and slide it close. Then I grab the knife and—and try not to think of how my hoof’s wrapping around its handle like a giant weird finger. Shakily, I drag the knife up to lay its edge on the cheese.

If I were human, I’d just hold the knife in both hands and push evenly down, and... I can do that with hooves since it’d just be pushing down, not gripping anything with opposable thumbs, I guess, but this is stiff, dense, hard cheese. With my tiny little mare body, there’s no way I can put enough pressure to slice through it. But... I said I’d try, so determined to relay to Mira my failure, I push down as hard as I can, and sure enough, I slice right through it.

Wait what?

I’m startled by the sharp sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. It went through the cheese like it was ricotta! “Okay um...” I say, staring at the knife warily before laying it flat. “Time to grate the cheese...”

Clumsily squeezing my hoof around the hunk of cheese, that only gives me one single forehoof with which to move the cheese grater. My tongue slips out the side of my mouth in concentration, trying to bump the grater on over to where I can lean on it. I release the hunk of cheese and just balance it on my hoof while fighting to rotate the grater the right way, but finally I have my left arm pressed securely over the top of a simple box grater.

Then I look at my right hoof, and... huh. Actually the hunk of cheese is just sitting there, still on my upraised hoof. Is it...? No, it slides right off, and I have to wrap my hoof around it again to lift it. How do you do the magic hoofsies thing? I’m screwed, aren’t I.

With no way to get the cheese to stick to my hoof, I just brace it against the surface of the grater, sandwiched between that and my hoof, and put a smooth, downward pressure on the cheese with the edge of my hoof’s nail. With a clatter, the cheese clunks on the counter and bounces away, but that’s more because of my surprise than anything. The cheese just... sliced effortlessly to ribbons where it touched the grater. Repeating the process, I don’t drop the hunk of cheese a second time, and in smooth, quickening strokes, I wear it down to nothing.

“You’re getting awfully quiet up there,” Nick says cautiously.

“I—I grated cheese,” I tell him. “I grated cheese. With hooves.”

“Congratulations!” Nick says delightedly, “Did you figure out magic hoofsies?”

“No, I just... I just improvised,” I tell him, briefly lifting the grater in my mouth, and tapping it as all the cheese cascades out of its box into a pile on the counter. “It’s easier than I thought it would be. Do we... could you go get a piece of cardboard from the box recycling over by the toaster?”

Now taking some cheap plastic container, I turn it upside down and lay it on top of the pile of grated cheese. Then I slide the cardboard under the pile with the edge of a hoof. By kicking the cardboard up, I can flip the container, with the cheese in it, either making a horrible mess, or ending with the container right side up and mostly full of cheese. The latter... happens. “Holy mackerel, I didn’t spill the cheese, Nick!” I say excitedly. “Now I can use the spatula to...” hmm...

I do manage to get my right hoof to wrap securely around the spatula, but I have to brace the spatula against my snout at first, trying to get my hoof in position. Then biting the spatula’s handle, I twist my tongue around it, so that my hoof can... uhh...

Returning my hoof to the floor, I stand there, realizing it’s easier to just hold the spatula in my mouth.

“I’m am aelium,” I say in a bemused daze, slurring around the handle of the spatula while I cleanly scoop up the remaining bits of spilled cheese. Instead of stubbornly scattering in front of my spatula, the cheese flakes just slide right on top of it, because I... moved my spatula correctly? With clean, decisive strokes. Then tilting the spatula to dump the remaining cheese into its container, instead of the cheese falling off the side of the spatula in an ever increasing radius until it spills beyond the edges of the container, the cheese just... funnels off the corner of the spatula. It’s easy. Why didn’t I use a spatula like this before?

Somehow the counter is clean, and we have a cheap plastic container full of freshly grated parmesan cheese. “I didn’t do anything magical, Nick,” I tell him confusedly once I’ve returned to the ground, squatting there staring at my forehooves. “I just...” Flexing the “finger” of one hoof, I can almost curl it forward to touch itself, “Did that, and... just found solutions for all the problems. Did you know there’s a way to dump cheese off a spatula that concentrates it at the corner like a funnel?”

“I don’t think that’s physically possible,” he replies, “But if you insist. Great job! I wonder what else you think you can’t do, that you actually can.”

“Yeah, if only it didn’t take so long...” I sigh, looking up at the counter high above us, as we two ponies sit on our haunches on the kitchen floor. Linoleum is cold against girlbits by the way. Not a lesson I ever thought I would learn.

“It only took a couple of minutes, I think?” he replies, “Except dragging the chair over and all.”

“Huh, seemed longer,” I say feeling a trifle unsettled by all this.

“So... earth pony master race?” Nick tries weakly. I sigh at him. “Super... parmesan grating powers?” he suggests insistently, and I can’t suppress a giggle at that one. “You were grating awfully fast,” he insists, “Anyway, that’s just a little bit of dinner.”

“A little bit of dinner, but I dunno,” I say, looking pensively at my slim yellow hoof again, “I’m not so sure having hooves is a bad thing anymore.”

“How’s my favorite little sister doing?”

Yep, Mira is definitely back from the store. Why can’t she go pick on somepony else, who didn’t wake up every morning the past three weeks with a vagina? Somepony other than the pony who has had to ignore said stupidly achey, tingly girl parts all the time in order to not fill them up with a little baby pony.

“I’m doing just fine,” Mira’s little sister, who is also a pony, grumbles. Because it’s me. Maybe not age-wise, but size-wise, I’m really... really little. I still can’t see out any of the windows without climbing up there, and the doorknobs are... above me, instead of in front of me. Realistically, I have to be bigger than I feel, since so much of me has to stand sideways now, but it still feels like I’m tiny.

“You need me to take care of the parmesan from—oh, you grated it?” Mira says, spotting the tub of grated cheese that I managed to get onto the table. “Wow,” Mira says, “I’m honestly impressed.”

Mira has returned with tons of food and supplies, and one frozen pizza as promised. It smells godly in the oven. I hope she brought enough to last us the winter, or... until whenever we’re going to figure out how to be ponies. But I don’t care if it’s vegetarian, this pizza has got to be the best thing I’ve eaten since becoming a pony. It’s horrible and messy and so delicious Nick keeps making jokes about how he wishes he could pleasure me as good as the pizza does.

But then, the conversation turns back towards how to get Mira transformed into a pony.

“I can’t believe that I can’t be a pony unless I...” Mira takes another look at the purple grey unicorn stallion that Nick had become.

“You’re not seriously considering...” I say concernedly, “Sex with Nick?”

“And what if I am?” Mira replies self consciously.

“We have to be careful about this!” Nick declares, giving Mira an anxious look, “We don’t want this to spread!”

“Bullshit!” Mira laughs. Genuinely laughs.

Both of us look at her incredulously.

“If this is a virus, it’s literally the worst one ever,” Mira explains, “Doesn’t spread through contact, only through sex, but like 99% of the world doesn’t want to have sex with a pony! How would they ever contract it?”

“From someone who contracted it from a pony?” I suggest.

“And how long before that person’s a pony?” Mira asks flatly. “About five minutes, right? This thing isn’t a virus, it’s surgery. Only the people who want to be ponies are ever going to go through with it. Heck even I feel kind of... yuck about a human and a pony doing it. How did you even... do it?”

“Well it’s not really... it’s sort of private...” I say, trying not to remember being on the bed and feeling him... inside me. Trying not to want it again. “Twilight kind of... showed me some... things.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mira says, waving a hand dismissively, “The point is that this can’t spread, or if it can spread, it’d only spread to people who are you know... already having sex with animals.”

Nick starts to get up, and Mira holds up her palms shouting, “Okay okay I’m not judging you just—”

“We’re ponies,” he says angrily, “Not animals. You think I’d ever do it with something that isn’t sapient?”

“Does it look like I care?” Mira says in agitation, “Fuck horses all you want, but I don’t want a horse to fuck me, but... there’s gotta be another way. What other way could there be?”

Nick and I don’t have any ready answers.

Author's Note

Now of course, the only question on everyone’s mind is... is Mira gonna do it?