Okay, let’s take stock. I’m a pony, check. A My Little Pony, check. A mare... check. Pregnant? Half check. I’ve been segregated at gunpoint, and I think my heart stopped the moment I started tracking the bullets that would leave those gun muzzles, where they would tear huge bloody holes in me if someone just slightly depressed the trigger. I–I–I could d-d-d-die.

It is in this paralysis, that my captors, or... police captors, or soldier... people find me very frustrating. I just kind of freeze staring at those gun barrels, and I don’t even notice when they move, or when people shout orders at me, or when someone prods me with said gun barrel, until they do it hard enough that I stumble, gasping for breath as I cringe in terror away from those horrible black things.

“I didn’t do it! I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me!” I tell them, half sprawled on the floor, while the entire lobby stares at me.

“Just... come with us, ma’am,” a rather weary sounding man’s voice comes through the electronic speaker, weary as if he’d been trying to explain the situation to a frozen plank of wood for the last two minutes. “We just need to ask you some questions.”

Of course I trust them. Of course. “I’ll do anything you say, just... oh god I’m going to die,” I say, breathing faster as I see the g-guns again.

“What’s the problem? She was just helping us learn how to walk!” a voice shouts from the crowd. The military looking people don’t even respond to it.

“Just come with us,” the leader of the group says, stepping forward to hold out a gloved hand for me to take, “If you cooperate, then no harm will befall you.”

No harm, my butt.

“I will!” I say stridently, “I will! Just please um...” I try putting my forehoof in his hand, and his thick gloved fingers wrap around it in a way that seems weirdly alien, considering that I used to have two hands like that. He pulls me up, and I gather my hooves underneath me. Then he says,

“Walk this way, please.”

He walks away, and I follow eagerly, trying not to do anything at all to alarm the men with their deadly black weapons that could end me in a single shot. They lead me to a trailer outside, a police trailer I guess, where I’m pushed into its black confines, and told to sit there and wait. Someone stands beside me, in his hazard suit, with a g-gun. What if a bullet punctures those suits? These guys are paramilitary, aren’t they. They’re pony haters who grabbed me to sell me to slavers in Guatemala. I was dead the moment I walked into this van. How could I be so stupid? How could—

A monitor in front of me comes on. Soon there’s a picture of a very serious looking man in it, with a snappy looking uniform. “I just have one question for you,” he says. “Who are you working for?”

...what? I honestly blank on that for a moment, before telling him in confusion, “I work at a Short Stop in Hibbing, but what does that have to do with turning into a pony?”

The guy holding the gun next to me shifts in place.

“A-actually,” I stutter anxiously, “I probably don’t work there anymore, because I haven’t shown up to work in the last um... two months, since I got turned into a pony and all. I–I mean the kind of um, being that I am, which is from a cartoon show that—”

“I don’t think you realize the seriousness of the situation,” the man asserts to me as I fall into faint silence. “You have committed an act of Terrorism against the United States Government. Hundreds of people have been infected with your pathogen. You have put all of humanity on the brink of extinction, overnight. Now you’re going to tell me who you work for, or there will be consequences you will not appreciate.”

“Twilight Sparkle!” I declare in sudden shock, “I wasn’t working for her. I was trying to stop her! She was the one who put that machine thingy in there, and—we didn’t do that! It was Twilight Sparkle, or a changeling disguised as her. You have to stop her, she teleported away before you could see her. You have to check your officers, she’s compromised the police! The commissioner is her minion! He’s been putting mind control drugs into the donuts! You have to find out which officers are being controlled, and stop them, and I know she got away, but that machine is evidence, isn’t it? Your officers are being mind controlled!”

Thank heaven the one next to me isn’t being mind controlled, because he doesn’t shoot me, just lets me blurt all that out rapidfire, as I shout in shrill urgency at the man on the TV.

The TV guy is gaping at me, like he can’t believe what he was hearing. Well good, it’s time someone shook things up around here, so—

“Could you repeat all of that?” the man asks, “More slowly?”

“A changeling came from Equestria,” I tell him more slowly, “Disguised as Twilight Sparkle. The commissioner is in cahoots with it, injecting mind control drugs into your officer’s donuts.”

“Our officer’s donuts,” he says humorlessly.

“Yes, and that machine was put there by a shapeshifting being who was impersonating Twilight Sparkle,” I continue, “You didn’t see her because she teleported away, but she was the one masterminding the whole—”

“Enough games!” he shouts angrily, “I speak on behalf of all humanity when I demand you tell us who you’re working for, and how to stop this before it’s too late?”

“A c-c-changeling I think, d-disguised as Twilight Spark—” I stutter in terror as he interrupts again, bellowing,

“There are no mind control drugs in our donuts!”

I–I–I don’t know what to say! “Let her cool her heels for a while,” the TV man says calmly, “She needs some time to decide whether or not she wants to be helpful to us.”

“I want to be helpful!” I protest fearfully, “I—”

“If the next words out of your mouth are not a confession, you are going to regret it,” he says darkly. He moves a dial, and the screen shuts off.

Silence.

“S-s-should I stay here or—” I start to say, as the man with the gun finally speaks up, telling me,

“Keep talking, if you want me to shoot you where you stand.”

I’m I’m I’m silent. Frozen stiff. Utterly still. No talking from me.

“You make me sick,” he concludes after a lengthy silence. And then he—! He spits on me! His spit lands on me! I–I can’t wipe it off my back without moving. I can’t stop it from oozing slimily down, soaking into m-my fur I just have to sit there and he spit on me. I can’t even clean off the s-spit because he hates me and I don’t know how to make this better. I’m going to die because I can’t stop whimpering. I don’t die, as I collapse on my belly in whimpering sobs, that I just can’t hold in because I’m in a horrible black van with guns, and he spit on me, and he should spit on me because they think I did this to everyone.

It doesn’t help my mood when underneath me, the van starts to move. I feel like they’re leading me to my execution, and I just curl up and cover my face with my hooves, trying to hold in the sobs, trying shut out the terrible reality that’s going to kill me. Like, right now.

It’s kind of a blur how they hustle me into an isolation cell. I don’t see anyone else in this complex besides the hazard suited um... military dudes. They might have cleared out this whole building just for me, because they think I’m going to spread the pony to them. I’m treated with utmost care and disgust, barely cognizant enough to walk, as with rough shoves they hustle me wordlessly along. This is so unfair. I don’t even come up to their waists, and they’re still shoving me along with the butts of their rifles so they don’t have to touch me. Then they push me into a white room, and close the door, and it has a really heavy sounding lock, and...

Silence descends.

I... oddly don’t feel like crying anymore. All I hear are diminishing footsteps. I sink to my belly, just staring at the door, just not even... comprehending what just happened. The first salient thought that comes to mind is how noisy my racing heart sounds, beating in my ears. I listen to my heart for a while just kind of... curiously, and slowly it calms down.

“Okay...” I say sounding loud in the quiet. “Okay, that was... scary.” Brilliant deduction, Holmes! What’re you going to deduce next, that you’re a little mare? “That was also kind of... excessive,” I add to myself, “...kind of. They think I did this, so it’s a reasonable reaction. What to do about it, though?”

I take a moment to look over myself. Sitting on my belly like this, my soft green tail got kinked a little uncomfortably, so I lift a haunch and swish it out to lay behind me. That tail’s the only real strange part about me. The rest is just... analagous to my human body, I guess. Nick’s the same way, sort of, but Mira’s got two new limbs to deal with. What would that even feel like? Staring at the small of my back, the lemon yellow fur reveals no insights in that regard. I’m not a pegasus, or a bat pony, or a unicorn, just... a pony.

I can see my bangs if I look up, the same odd green as my tail. My hair’s kind of... shaggy, actually. I dunno, it just kind of hangs around my head and neck. I haven’t had to cut it yet, but it’s only been two months, so I can’t really say how often it needs to get cut. Am I in prison now? I am, aren’t I? How do you get your hair cut in prison? How does a... a mare get her mane cut in prison? Am I in one of those female only penitentiaries? Where are the other prisoners though? It’s just silent outside, and the only window in the room is a small slit through the metal door out into a featureless hall.

There’s nothing in here. There’s a sink and a tiny little toilet, but there isn’t even a bed in here. I stand and pace the boundary of this well lit, white walled cell, and I start to feel an uneasy paranoia rise up in me. There’s nowhere to hide in here. Nothing to lie on, or get under. No corners to get behind. Just white walls, white floors, like I’m in a fluorescent lit white cube. I start to feel really present in here, like the room is drawing attention to me, the only incongruity in its simple geometry.

I try turning on the water, to maybe get a drink, and... the spigot turns, but no water comes out of the faucet. The toilet itself is bone dry. I have a bad feeling about this.

An hour, or... something later, I have a really bad feeling about this. I’m thirsty, tired, bored, and scared. I just sit there kind of... rolling from one side to another, because there’s just nothing to do in here. I can think of just the right music to play now, all melancholy and lonely as I lay here despondent in my cell.

“Nick, Mira, I hope you’re okay,” I whisper softly, laying on my side, as the music starts to play. “Where did I go wrong?” I sing.

Then the music stops.

Wide-eyed, I sit back up to my haunches, and the music starts again. I’m not hearing any music. I’m just... thinking about what would be good music, and how it would go, and what I would... sing. I... I can feel it trying to come out. And all I have to do, is just... sing?

“Where did I go wrong?” I sing, in that clear, bell-like voice I’m speaking with, and it’s... it’s obvious. “Whatever do I say?” is what I sing, “Alone and locked away... from my friends.”

I feel terrible, but it’s... it’s just heartwarming to sing like this. Just staring wistfully at the door out of here, I sing, “Waiting for so long,” with a clarity that I never felt before. My voice is bright and sweet in the silence. I can just... just fall into it, and let myself sing.

Where did I go wrong?
Whatever do I say?
Alone and locked away
From my friends.

Waiting for so long
Waiting for the day
That Twilight came
Into my life.

She showed me beauty
Beyond compare.
I tried to repay her
Then she wasn’t there...

Where did I go wrong?
Who should I have told
When I lost ahold
Of humanity.

Should I save the day?
Should I save the world
When everything unfurled
Oh so wrong.

In like a glove
The pony I adore
I gave her love
But she wanted more.

I tried to stop her.
All I ate was dirt
I tried to help
She could only hurt

Where did I go wrong?
Should I have turned away?
Should I have let her lay
Till her end?

What is going on?
Until I know her plans
How can I understand
If I did something wrong?

Have I done nothing wrong?

The walls resonate with my fading voice as I fall silent again. I can’t believe ponies can just... do that. I needed to sing, and I sang, and... there was nothing wrong with that. That’s why the end of my song grew confused, because I’ve never been able to express myself like this before. I lost my hands, but... in that strange moment, hated by the world, in that isolated cell, I feel like I gained something far more valuable in return, though I can’t quite pin it down. Twilight Sparkle...

Twilight Sparkle gave this to me. She made me this. She let me cum inside her, an experience too powerful to put into words. I remember... I remember ejaculating, and how it just vanished into her. She took my penis, and my humanity, and my life’s savings, but to be fair it’s not like I was doing anything with that stuff, not without her. I can’t blame her for my pregnancy, unless I find she spiked my DNA with horniness or something. And besides that, Twilight gave me this amazing place between my legs that could feel so good. Without her, Nick would have never... Nick would have never done that to me. I... I...

I never in a million years thought I’d ever be able to go to Bronycon.

Twilight’s horrible! She’s cruel and manipulative. She’s not even a pony, but an evil creature that survives by impersonating ponies and draining you of your love. That’s what she did to me, and it’s utterly unforgivable. I trusted her and she... she put me $30,000 in debt. That’s terrible and all, but it’s just numbers on paper. I probably would’ve given it to her, if she really needed it! It’s wrong what Twilight did, so very wrong, and yet I’ve been doing things in the last few months that I’d never even dreamed of. I just can’t figure out what Twilight Sparkle did that’s... unconditionally... evil.

She certainly didn’t point a gun at me, then lock me in a solitary cell that doesn’t even have a bed. How long are they going to leave me in here? How long is it going to take me to go insane? Have I gone insane already? I’ve got to be insane, because I’m thinking of Twilight and not hating her guts, but just wishing I could... see her again.

I don’t know how long I lay there, thinking about... things. There’s a dark sort of satisfaction I feel, when I remember that Nick’s seed’s still inside me. They can’t see it. They don’t know about it. I’m totally exposed on the outside, but my body has secrets within. Is it going to make me pregnant? Is it making me pregnant right now? Mira said it’d take at least a week before I could tell, but when does it... happen?

That’s around when I first start to feel a need to go pee. Walking over to the toilet, it’s not so tiny compared to me, so I still have to climb my butt up onto the thing, and balance on the edge of the bowl. And no water in it, great. Well it’s their loss if everything smells like pee. I still remember when I first had to go pee, after Nick came to find me a pony. My hooves clattered and slipped on the bowl, so I gave up and just hopped in the shower. “OK just... push like normal,” I told myself, bearing down on my bladder, and then a surprised squeak hit me as pee just exploded out from me. I don’t know why, but with girls, it’s just super easy. Instead of going through the... plumbing of my penis, it just went directly from my bladder to peeing.

So it surprised me from how suddenly it came out, but then it seemed to be coming out steadily, so at least that was familiar, but why wasn’t it hitting the shower drain behind me? I looked back, and I was quite comfortably peeing into my own tail, soaking the whole thing with urine. I didn’t even try to stop at that point. I just let it get soaked. Then I turned on the shower with my teeth, and drenched myself in cold water, because I couldn’t leave the tub with a tail dripping in piss.

The second time was easier, and somewhat more informative. I lifted my tail this time, and bearing down I was again startled as the pee just started spraying out of me right away. And then I watched it spraying out of me in a steady stream, forceful enough to hit the side of the tub. And that’s how I pee now. I found over the months ahead how I could stop it from spraying like that by sort of... pulling my vulva in, which caused it to just sort of pour out of me instead. Doing it that way got it immediately running down my ass and legs though, which being furry also had the potential to be soaked in urine.

I did manage to use the bowl, but it was really awkward at first and as I sprayed my pee into the water below, I couldn’t help but think it would be easy for me to slip and fall into that. Nevertheless I was not going to shit in the shower stall, and it was below zero outside, so I had to learn the bowl, or nothing. At least shitting was mostly the same.

The toilet I use now is smaller, so easier to clamber upon, but with no water to flush, I’m certainly not going to be shitting in it any time soon. I hope they don’t keep me in here too long. It sounds really loud, when my spray of pee hits the dry bowl, but when I look up guiltily at the door, I realize it’s not likely anyone’s going to come in just now. So I hunch there noisily peeing, and... the toilet smells like pee now, but that’s their problem not mine.

My stomach is starting to growl noisily, with how empty it is. I uncomfortably remember I haven’t eaten anything since this morning, or whenever that was. What I really need is water though. I’m so freaking thirsty. Trapped in this cell with nothing to do, it’s hard to think about anything else than my fears and aches, and hungers.

Eventually, just... with nothing else to do, I flop my back against the wall, belly up, and just start messing with my groin. There’s nothing more crazy I could do to it than fuck Nick after all. I guess peeing reminded me that I’m actually female down there. The slot dividing the smooth curve of my belly feels... soft. Is that really what was stretching so much? I really just... open up in there, when a stallion puts his dick in me?

I rub my belly with a forehoof, thinking about the seed inside it. I really wish I could do that again. The urge just took me, and... and it took Nick too, and he was inside me. What would I do with a foal? What would giving birth through this thing feel like? I mean, of course it would hurt, but what would it feel like? The fur is thin and fuzzy around those teats. My... pony breasts I suppose. They make me tingle and squirm as I rub the side of my hoof along them. I um... I look around, and it’s still a featureless white room, with no one around.

Anxiously, I slide my hoof between my legs and just start... rubbing my marehood on it. My nether lips part easily around the side of my arm, and I wonder if I could figure out masturbation. Maybe in here, I’ll have time to do so. But maybe they have hidden cameras watching me. Why would I care what they think though? An indulgent moan mmmfs out of me as a trickle of fluid soaks into my fur, and... oh no.

I stop cold, and my eyes snap open. The sink... there’s no water in here. If I... I’m a mare. I’ll get all lubricated in my vagina for some stallion. I can’t afford to... to lose water like that. With a hot huff of frustration, I tear my forehoof from between my legs, and just squeeze them together, laying on my side, hoping that someone will come for me soon.

Well, being female, maybe I can’t masturbate, but at least Nick’s seed is still inside me, impregnating me even as I just lay there. Wait, that’s a bad thing, isn’t it.

I’m so thirsty... they haven’t even given me any water. I’d even drink out of a dog bowl if they’d give it to me. Isn’t this illegal? Animal abuse or... or something? I don’t know what time it is. I’ve been here a while. I... slept. I had to sleep with the lights on, but I got exhausted enough eventually where I could just drift off. So is that a day? Two days?

My hooves clop as I pace around the cell. Then I sit on my belly again to conserve... energy or something. Another song isn’t coming to mind, but I try singing anyway. Just to pass the time. I get through that “Doe a Deer” song, wherever it came from, and then “Somewhere over the Rainbow.” I start singing that eurotrash pop song from The Reanimator and wow do I not have the voice for that. Imagine Dolly Parton trying to sing the lyrics “Move your dead bones.”

I love those old recordings of Dolly’s songs. Her actual singing songs, I mean. She had such a sweet and tender voice, I guess kind of like the voice I have now. Everyone knew her for her over the top bimboized country/western junk, but I never even saw her fabled brassiere. I just liked the moments when she got to sing, without fake, manufactured folk culture twanging out on electric guitars. How long has it been since I listened to her stuff? I wish I had a music player with me. Oh god I’m going crazy, aren’t I.

Worse still, my throat starts to hurt, from being thirsty, so I have to stop singing. I just sit there for what feels like hours and hours, wishing I could have a stronger will, wishing I could get out of here, wishing they would turn off those goddamned lights. I roll around on the floor, and... smack into the sink.

Then I get mad and start kicking the shit out of the sink. The metal bowl crumples when I buck it, and the pipes twist and distort after, until with repeated kicks I just knock it away from the wall entirely. I’ve torn off the pipes from their fittings, but there isn’t any water being supplied to them.

Then I realize I’ve just torn a sink off the wall with my bare hooves. I inspect them, but my soft round thighs reveal little of their secret power, and my hooves seem entirely undamaged, though the left one is achy. Could I... could I buck the door right off its hinges? Oh god I’m in enough trouble already. They’re not going to like how I demolished their sink. I—I can’t undo that. It won’t go back up where it was.

Somewhere around fitful sleeping, I get the brilliant idea to make up a little game with that sink, avoiding the jagged metal parts, but sliding it around the cell like a ball. Just to keep sane, of course. I try to think of what rules might be involved if the ball is a hunk of metal, not a ball. If it... if it fits into the corner without a gap, I get an extra 20 points. Yeah, something like that.

I start getting falling-over-exhausted at some point during that game. I’m so thirsty. I slide the sink over to the wall, trying to lean it so that it looks... sort of like I didn’t kick it off the wall. Wouldn’t notice it flying by on a galloping horse. It’s all I can do before just flopping on the floor and passing out again.

Shitting is... not fun. I wake up with the urge though, that uncomfortable squeeze in your gut. I sit there trying to hold it in, but it surges right up into my colon then and I know it means business. So I just clamber onto the toilet, and... hope that it won’t get too full. With regular squeezes that seem to pull me open, like the opposite of my vagina, my sphincter bulges, and my shit drops in soft plaps onto the toilet bowl below me.

Then of course I have to pee immediately after.

I look at it afterwards. It’s already starting to stink really bad. I wonder if I could... throw some dirt on it, or something. Unfortunately I’m in a stone cell, that’s lacking in dirt, but I try throwing what crumbles and dust I can gather on top of it. It doesn’t really help.

So time passes, slowly or quickly, I can’t tell? The toilet still stinks. Though not as bad anymore. I guess it’s getting... decomposed? Dried out? I’m feeling dried out. I lay on my back, and then after a time, I roll to my belly, and look dully over the still broken sink. It barely looks like it hasn’t been torn off the wall. Still bent and crumpled, with the pipes not even aligning. I wonder if I could...

I spend a good long while messing with the sink. First I step on the bowl, lifting with a forehoof to bend it back into a smooth cubical shape. That gets most of the dents out, and by tilting it up, I can smack my hard hooves into the sides to smooth out any of the other wrinkles. With the shape of the sink itself mostly restored, I carefully align the broken pipes with each other.

I don’t have a welder, but maybe I could get the jagged teeth of the torn metal to catch together, like putting a sword into a sheath, or actually a better analogy might be a penis into a vagina. Tapping the broken pipe until it’s slightly bent inward, I slide it into the other side of the broken pipe, then the same for the other one. Some strong smacks of my hooves against the join gets it uh... stuck in place, and then it’s a simple matter of bending the sink back into an upright position, then striking each of the pipes with a ringing report to put the uh... stiffness back into them. I dunno, but it works, and they don’t bend and crumple with the weight of the sink.

Soon as anyone turns on the water, that’s going to turn into a flying broken sink and two geysers of hot and cold, but it actually doesn’t look half bad anymore. As the only salient feature of the room besides the toilet, I guess I’m glad it at least appears to be restored. Now I won’t get in trouble for it! Or... hopefully not, at any rate.

I stare at that sink. Then I fiddle with it. I am so bored. Tilting it this way and that. Every now and again I just mess with it more, trying to get it just right. It’ll loo good, but... then I’ll notice something else about it that I could fix. There’s nothing else in this room to notice.

Feeling somewhat accomplished from my escapades with the sink that aren’t ending in total disaster, I don’t have anything to do, go figure, so I lay on my side, and... curl up like a cat. Seriously, I don’t know what ponies are, but it really is comfortable to sleep like this. Plus I can lay my head back, upside-down this way, with my eyes underneath, away from the overhead lights, and cover my eyes with my forehooves to boot. Shut up it’s comfortable.

“Aww...”

My ear flicks at the sound of a guy’s voice slightly muffled, and I snort awake. Lifting my head and looking over at him, there’s a moment of uncomprehension as I see that there’s a guy in another one of those hazard suits, standing at the open cell door and looking at me. Then I suck in an explosive breath and leap to my hooves, my butt hitting the wall as I scramble away from him, staring in fear.

“Woah, hold on!” he says, holding up his hands, neither of which are wrapped around a firearm. “I’m not here to hurt you. You’re one of the ponies who released that pony virus, right?”

My heart is racing from the shock of being awoken by that spinning through my head dizzily. Should I nod? What’s he asking? All I can do is stare at him like a moron, saying scratchily in my soft, high voice, “Uhm... I...”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says warmly, his suit crinkling as he squats down to the floor, more on my level. “How’re you doing? They said you got sent in a while ago.”

I blink at him in confusion. Why’s he being so nice to me? “It’s okay, take your time,” he says.

“I’m um... w-while?” I ask faintly, butt against the wall, “They don’t turn off the lights here. How long has it been?”

His eyes widen, and on an unrelated note, I remember water. Gah. Why am I not asking him for water? My throat’s already starting to burn, it’s so dry. Oh I hope he has water.

“They’re not turning the lights off?” the man says in surprise, “That’s terrible! You’ve been here for so long, and they never turned the lights off?”

“N-no could I please have some water?” I reply, unable to be sophisticated about it. “I’m so thirsty.”

“Well, they fed you, right?” he asks. I shake my head. I haven’t even thought about hunger. Right now all I want is soft, cold, clear fluid pouring down my throat. “What about the sink?” he asks gesturing to it in aggravation.

“The water’s turned off,” I tell him cautiously.

“Wait here,” he says earnestly, “I’ll be right back.”

Then he runs out the door and... and for a moment I hope he’s going to leave it open, but it closes again, and clicks solidly shut. I hear his boots running down the hall, and then uh... stopping in the hall. He just stands there a while, I guess? Then, he runs back up the hall.

The door in front of me, it opens and he comes through again. “I hope you can drink from a bottle,” he says, procuring a water bottle or two held in his arms, “I grabbed the first thing I could find from the break room.”

“Yes, please!” I say, walking towards him on... on four hooves, because he’s looking at a little pony right now. Because I don’t care I just want little pony water already. “Please I’m really thirsty!”

He uncaps one of the bottles, and holds it before himself uncertainly, and I have no idea how to do it as a pony either, so I do what I usually do: improvise. I bite the threading of the water bottle, and close my lips around it, pulling it right out of his hand. Then I can tilt my head back and... it is so good. I have never tasted water as good as this. It hurts to swallow though, making me choke, then splutter, dropping the water bottle and then scrambling to try to stop the precious water from spilling out even as I’m racked with a coughing fit.

“Woah, woah, here’s another one,” he says, holding up a second bottle.

“Thanks,” I say, clearing my throat as the coughing subsides. “Just drank a little... too fast.”

I take the end of the second bottle in my mouth, and twist off the cap with my tongue, squeezing it out around the bottle to clatter on the floor. Then I very cautiously tip it back, just enough to get a little splash of water, then tipping it forward so I can swallow. And um... just stand there, draining the bottle bit-by-bit. I hope he doesn’t want me to talk to him.

Once I’ve drained the bottle dry, he says in an impressed tone, “You’re really good with your mouth.”

Dropping the empty bottle with a clatter, I sigh and say, “I’ve had a lot of practice over the last few months. I still can’t talk to you and drink at the same time, though.”

“I don’t think many people can talk and drink at the same time,” he says frankly, “C’mon, let’s get you out of this cell and get you some more water, and maybe something to eat.”

“Oh... oh thank you so much,” I exclaim, practically leaning against his leg as he leads me on. I daren’t touch him though, because I might be a carrier, or... something. Why else would they be only talking to me in environment suits? And technically I did infect Nick, so... maybe my fluids could do it?

He takes me into a cafeteria of sorts. There’s no one in sight, but my ears keep faintly picking up footsteps running around behind the walls and down the hallway. I guess they’re just avoiding me because I could be contagious. My tail droops a bit at the thought of that, and of course that makes me self conscious about having a tail unlike any real human being.

At least I get fed and treated kindly for once. We have the most bizarre conversation, a little yellow and green pony, and a human in an environment suit. He gives me two whole more bottles of water until it feels like my stomach is wobbling. I’m wolfing down cookies he got from a vending machine, as he asks, “So how’d you get in this much trouble? Did you do something bad?”

“No it ffith—” I have to pause to swallow. “No it’s terrible!” I tell him, “I got framed, by the real culprit, Twilight Sparkle! And now everyone thinks that I did it!”

“How’d she frame you?” he asked in surprise. “I heard that you were caught red-handed, or hooved I suppose, activating the bioweapon.”

“The bio...the thing stuck to the fan?” I ask, discovering a new love for peanut butter crackers that surpassed the bond between Samson and Delilah, “It activated itself, after Twilight used her magic on it!”

“Her magic,” he said flatly.

“Yeah, we were trying to watch her, but me and Nick took our eyes off her for one second, and she cast a spell to turn on the machine, then teleported away right when the police ran in!”

“Teleported,” he said even more flatly.

“I know, it’s terrible,” I say through a mouth of the apple I’m cradling in my hooves, “She has all sorts of terrible magic at her disposal, and how are we supposed to stop her? I even have evidence that she is using mind control, on the police! Your commissioner is like an evil agent for her um... her queen, who’s a changeling.”

“It’s just a little bit hard to believe,” he said with a confused shrug, “Are you sure she wasn’t somewhere else when you activated the machine?”

“I suppose she could’ve used a spell to project an image of herself—wait no,” I say, shaking my head, “We fought her! We totally kicked her butt, and if we’d watched her better... but she had to have been there. Unicorns can’t make a physical illusion!”

“How did you come to learn that?” he asked curiously.

“The show,” I say with a shrug, “They could change things into other things, but um... I can’t remember if they ever projected themselves. Oh, Trixie once made a floating neon... stick figure of herself?”

Thoughtfully nibbling the edges of the apple core, I say, “Huh, actually since they can make magical shields, maybe they could make a shield in the shape of a pony, and that would be a solid illusion.”

“Back to the machine,” he said in a bit of a strained voice, “What do you know about it? How does the virus transmit itself?”

Oh uh... “I-it’s kind of personal,” I tell him with a blush, “I swear we didn’t... do anything illegal, I think. We were just... trying something out. I um... I only know one way it could be transmitted.”

“What’s that?” he asked, “Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble or anything. We’re all friends here.”

“Yeah, it’s just embarassing...” I tell him, not sure I want him to know the potential state of my womb. Potential womb. I am totally gonna give birth, aren’t I.

“Well, you don’t have to say if you don’t want to,” he says with a sympathetic grimace behind his faceplate, “But a lot of people could get hurt by this. I hope you understand how important this is?”

“Hey, I got turned into this too!” I fuss at him, “Just because I can walk around doesn’t mean I’m okay with it!”

“I understand,” he says soothingly, “It’s okay, you can take your time. It’s just really important to know this stuff.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” I declare, “It is important, and it’s important people know all the facts. I um... I don’t know if it’s air transmitted, but what I do know is um...”

He waits patiently.

“It is... kind of... sssexually transmitted,” I tell him, trying not to imitate Fluttershy too much.

He just stares at me.

“S-so um, nobody should have sex or intimate uh, penetration,” I tell him cautiously. “That’s how Nick got turned into a pony. Because he penetrated... m-me.”

He sighed slowly, and put his fist up on his faceplate, where it would’ve gone on his forehead.

“We didn’t know it would happen!” I protest self-consciously.

“I think it would have a slightly more virulent transmission than sexual contact,” he says disbelievingly, “It is a biological weapon after all.”

“I think so too, but I don’t know what it is,” I tell him with a helpless shrug. “Twilight took all her notes with her. Maybe I’m not as virulent since I was the uh... first attempt at doing it to a human.”

Another awkward silence, and I ask, “Do you think we could find any more of those cookies? I—”

“I will give you a million of those cookies,” he groaned in exasperation, “If you’ll just tell me how a virus is supposed to transform people into ponies?”

“I really don’t know, sorry,” I tell him sincerely, “Maybe by sneezing on someone?”

“No, I mean that what happened in that convention center is impossible as far as I know, with our current technology,” he corrects himself. “Is it some sort of alien technology? Is there a secret laboratory? Is it a corporation? A terrorist organization? Tell me this, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re well treated: how does a human being transform on the spot into a cartoon pony?”

My ears go down, and I don’t know what he’s asking, exactly, or the details. What does he want me to tell him? “Um... magic?” I offer with a nervous smile.

He gives me another look, then slaps his gloves on the table, standing up from it, saying loudly, “I think we’re done here.”

“What? What’d I say?” I ask. In response a bunch of guys in suits with guns come rushing in. “I–I swear it’s magic!” I squeal, scrambling back from the table, “She’s from Equestria! She... please don’t...” I curl up against the wall, trying to make myself as small a target as possible.

“Jeez,” comes a rough, unfamiliar voice, “You think she’d freak out more if we actually had our guns pointed at her?”

Someone kicks me lightly, saying, “Get up. Get moving.”

I uncurl and stand shakily, saying, “I’m up! I’m up! What do you want me to—”

“This way,” he says gruffly, pushing me towards the door with the b-barrel of his gun.

“I’m walking! I won’t do anything funny,” I tell them, walking stiff legged with them down the hall. “What did I do wrong? Did I do something wrong? I’ll help you with anything I can! I just don’t know very much! We were just trying to help. I-is this legal? Do ponies even have legal rights? You’re not holding them all—”

I come face to face with that awful cell.

No... no! They push me in but I plant my hooves, scrambling back, saying, “No, please not that! I don’t want to go in there again!” Their gloved hands wrap around parts of my body, shoving with an incredible strength, like three or four of them, but I’m absolutely panicked at this point, scrabbling forward, grabbing the edges of the door, leap-frogging over that one guy only to be dragged back by my tail. At last, it’s the black barrel of a gun in my face, that freezes me in my tracks. With the gun still trained on my head, they slide me stiffly into the cell. Then they close the door, while I run back up to it shouting, “Please there’s no water in here! Can I have something to read? When am I gonna get out?”

Without answering, the boots start to walk away. Through the tiny slit in the door I shout, “Please, at least turn off the lights!!”

No answer. Oh god. I’m in here again. I scamper from edge to edge of the cell, panicked, confused, trying to find a way out. No answer, nothing. With the clatter of my hooves stilling, utter silence descends. I sink to my belly, in this cell again, and just start crying. It just all hits me so hard, and I fall to my side, curling up moaning and weeping, confused and frustrated, terrified and outraged.

I have... plenty of time to cry it out. I think I cry even longer, because it’s just something to do. But at last I’m just too worn out, and just lay there on my side, my round yellow-furred barrel rising and falling with my breath.

I try humming a tune to pass the time, and end up singing every song I ever sang in choir back in middle school. It’s funny, because I have to improvise the precise tune, since I learned the baritone part, not the soprano part, except for 6th grade. At least I can hum. I drank so much water...

Holy crap, I recall, halfway through “Fifty Nifty United States.” I remember choir back then. My voice dropped a full octave in just one year! That was a freaky year, sounding different every day, never able to perceive it changing, yet next thing I know I’m a booming baritone, in a young teen’s body. Puberty certainly hadn’t been kind to me. Twilight’s transformation was a million times kinder, because I just sound like a girl, and I don’t have to transform anymore!

Then it occurs to me, laying on the floor staring upward, that Twilight’s transformation should have been a million times less kind, since five minutes is a lot less than a whole year. After calculating that a year has between 432000 and 556000 minutes in it, I figure it has to be at least 100000 times as traumatizing to change into a mare, yet it doesn’t feel that way. I’m... so different, but I changed all at once. Like tearing off a bandaid, I guess? If my voice had changed over like 10 years then I never would have noticed though! So which counts as more traumatizing? Twilight’s spell, or puberty?

I think I... sleep at some point. I don’t know anymore. I didn’t realize just how bored you could get until now. There’s a point where all your restless energy drains away, and you just lay there exhausted from doing nothing, which just makes you more exhausted. The light overhead makes it hard to sleep, but I close my eyes, and hide my eyes and sleep.

I wake up desperately thirsty again. Am I going to die here? They wouldn’t leave me here to die, would they? Just trapped until I get thirsty, and weaker, and they find my dessicated body weeks later, wondering how long I suffered before the end? Oh god no, I have to pee again.

I refuse to pee. I’m not going to let that water out of me. I don’t pee and it hurts and I’d just... rather die that way than die of thirst. At least it’s a pain I can cry about.

I spend some time begging through the little slot for someone to come just give me a little water. Of course they don’t come then. They leave me to sob into the slot that I hate them and I don’t wanna die and I wish someone would come and save me, but nobody’s ever going to come, because that only happens in stories.

Finally, they come while I’m trying to teach myself to tap dance on four legs. And I stop tapping my hooves to a rhythm, looking up with astonished hope when the door unlocks, and creaks open again.

“Oh, thank you,” I start to say, rushing forward only to freeze at a gun barrel pointed my way. The hazard suited guard seems unalarmed though, and once I stop advancing, he lowers the gun and turns, saying “c’mon.”

“Oh thank you so much,” I outright gush at him as he leads me through something that isn’t a white brightly lit room, even my tail perking up as I trot along beside him, “I was going crazy in there! I don’t have to go back, do I? I think this qualifies as torture, doesn’t it? Not that I’m suggesting you’re doing that on purpose, but if you can’t turn on the sink, oh wait no don’t do that, but could I at least have some sort of water bottle now and then? And I really need the lights out because I keep passing out and I can’t really sleep, and I promise I’ll do anything you say if I could just get some water.”

He... oddly tolerates me in this, maybe because with my throat so dry, my voice is really faint. But he leads me down the hallway, and to the room I was talking with that guy in again. I have to tell him, because I have to tell someone or they’ll put me in there again!

“Wait here,” the guard says, “Don’t move.”

He leaves then, and c-c-closes the door and I’m shut in a room again, but it’s not the same room, so maybe... I’m so tired. I think I’m nodding off when the door opens, but I snort awake, then follow my ears to face it. It’s... another guy in a suit.

It’s really hard to tell these guys apart. He’s different from the other guys though, because gripped in his right hand is a glass of water.

“Oh tha—-” I manage to say, rushing forward, before an ear shattering explosion at my feet makes me leap back with a squeak, falling in a tangle of limbs. “What was that?!” I shout in shrill alarm, looking around wildly, and I can barely hear myself speak because my ears are ringing!

“Don’t move,” he repeats, and I can barely hear him, but I know that voice. It’s not the voice of the guard who freed me. It’s the nice guy from before. The water glass is still there held in his right hand. And there’s a gun in his left hand, pointed right at me. “You’ll get your water,” he says with a gentle smile, “All you have to do is tell us who you work for.” My eyes dart from the gun to the water, to the gun, to the water. It’s not over. I can’t have any water. I can’t help them no matter how hard I try. This isn’t going to end. This is never going to end.

I try to hold it in, but a shrill whine turns into outright sobs and I crumple down and cover my head in my arms, trying to hide from him, from everything. He looms up beside me and I cringe away from him, and he... sets the cup of water down beside me. I lunge for it desperately, and spill the water all over my hooves.

...

I think the guy says something else, but I can’t really hear anything other than myself, kind of echoey still. Why do I have to be such a crybaby? And that makes me cry more! At some point, someone wraps his broad, crinkling gloves under my chest and lifts me up, and I try to stand, trying to apologize while I’m trying to stand. I’m not very good at trying things, but somehow I end up barely standing with my sea green tail between my legs, trembling, sniffling, my eyes red with tears I can’t afford to cry.

There’s like three or four guys in the room now, all looking at me with varying expressions on the faces behind their faceplates between concern and disgust.

“She doesn’t know anything,” the guy who was going to give me water says in disgust, “I can’t believe we wasted our time on this idiot. Just take her back to her cell.”

“No!” I manage to yelp desperately, staring up at the hulking, suited men, “I need water, please! I’ll die without water!”

“You’ll get your water,” the guy in charge sneers. I don’t believe him.

They use their guns to push me stumbling back down the hall, and my cursed four legs just make it impossible to fall over. I don’t have it in me to resist. I just slump back into my... my cell, and lay down on my belly, staring at the back wall, waiting to die. A plastic water bottle bounces off my ass.

I swivel around looking behind me in shock, but the door is already closing. It thunks and clangs closed, while I look at the water, still wide-eyed. Sitting up to my haunches, I clumsily cradle it between my hooves, looking at the plastic cap apprehensively. I guess I’m not going to die? I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid of a water bottle before.

That apprehension doesn’t hold out long. Biting on the cap, I unscrew it with my teeth and lift the cap off with my tongue. With the cap clattering to the floor, I hug the bottle to me like a life preserver, never taking it out of my mouth. Rolling back onto my back, I drink long and deep, satisfied beyond compare.

I drink until it’s half empty. It’s just a dinky little bottle, says half a liter on the side, but ponies are not very large, so I think it’s enough for me... for now. Carefully placing the water bottle to the side, I lean down and lip up the cap, then descend upon the water bottle again, flipping the lid onto it with my tongue, and twisting it tight.

I don’t know if they’re going to give me any more water, or if this is a one time thing. I don’t know anything about rationing water, outside of what I saw in a movie once. Some castaway, I forget exactly. Twilight used to watch movies with me.

Flopping on my back next to the water bottle, I splay my arms out sideways and groan. I met Twilight three months ago. Three months. That’s not even half a year, and I’ve lived for over thirty of them! Why does it feel like so much longer? Twilight did incredible things, she was an incredible mare, an incredible woman who just swept me up, and fulfilled me, and used me, and... dumped me.

“Why am I still crushing on her?” I growl too cutely, laying a yellow furred arm over my eyes. “I’m with Nick now! I guess? I h-have Nick’s foal.” Sitting up, I hunch forward and look at myself. My nondescript, innocent looking, lemon yellow furred belly. It’s... it’s getting pregnant right now, while I stare at it. Nick’s seed is still inside my belly, hunting around for my egg, or worse, I have a zygote in there, preparing to implant into my... my womb.

Why did we do that? We were trying not to, and then we just... did. He felt so good inside me. My nethers feel so soft, like I’d just... expand from between my legs. Was this really what took control of me? It seems so innocent, like I wasn’t just shoving my ass in Nick’s face, desperate to fill this place up with seed. I... I’m trickling out around my hoof.

I spare a glance at the water bottle, and... I don’t stop this time.

There, laying on my back, with my forehoof between my legs, I find myself being taken control of by my marehood again. I really want to orgasm. Wasn’t even thinking about it, and now I do, simple as that. Simple like fire: all it does is burn.

It’d be wrong for me to masturbate here. The light is shining overhead, and I’m sure they have cameras. Why else would they keep me here, if not to watch me? I’d be destroying any thought in their heads that ponies were innocent, pure creatures... ponies like me. After all I’ve been through, I think I want them to see... see what Twilight did to me. Just what sort of creature I’ve become.

Why should I care? They can... they can watch if they want. Sure I might look stupid, or lewd, or... or freaking out, shouting for a stallion to come fuck me. But I’d be doing that in front of people I couldn’t care less about. So they’re offended, so what? What are they going to do, throw me in jail?

I feel... excited, alert. Like the tingling in my pelvis is filling me with that adventurous spirit. I slide my hoof in my slick groove, and a quiet moan escapes me, just at the relief of my inhibitions washing away. I start thinking about men, about stallions, about Nick without any anxiety. It’s just my vagina, right? Which is a thing I have? I could f-fill it, and get pregnant this way. I want to do it, even though I’m afraid of the days that follow that beautiful explosion of cum inside me.

Restless, I stand, and my hind legs immediately stiffen, as braced on my left forehoof, my right one strokes my groin. Even just light touches seem to be setting me off, a stroke at a time. I feel like I’m gonna—and then I do. My groin just... flexes out and in against my hoof. I really don’t know what’s up with that, but I like it. It smears my... my juicy insides all over my hoof.

I can explore myself this way. I can touch all the things I’m afraid to touch. My nipples, no, my teats. Something Nick doesn’t even have. Something uniquely feminine in ponies. They feel so soft, like the softest pillow, even though they don’t stick out from my belly. The fur is thinner and downier around there, and those tingles I increasingly hunger for, they flow out of my nethers. I’m not even touching my marehood anymore, it’s even from just trying to tease forth the milk I cannot produce... yet. I wink.

That throbby nethers thing even hits me just sliding the side of my hoof along my nipples. That’s got to be winking! Is that winking? Am I winking?

I... I don’t even have to touch my nethers directly, to start winking. Boldly, I brace my hind legs, and face my rear to the door, lifting my tail as if challenging them to send a stallion running through there. Stroking my nipples, and... and flexing that oh so female place between my legs, right in front of him. He’d mount me and fill me and...

My eyes dart to the water bottle.

It’s with whimpering urgency that I straddle the water bottle, and sink my hips down on it. Oh yes this was a wonderful idea. The tapering neck broadens until I can’t fit any more in, but I can penetrate myself this way. I can feel it in there! I start... lifting my hips up and down to make that bottle slide in and out of me. Stroking my nipples is lovely, but bracing with one forehoof I only have one arm free to stimulate myself.

Squeezing my thighs together, I fall to my side, moaning at the feel of my vagina squeezing on the bottle. It’s not anywhere near as good as Nick’s penis, but it’s something, and I really like something more than just being empty. When I land on my side, the bottle risks slipping out of my tense flower, but I hurriedly lift the base of my tail up to brace on it, and... and it’s a desperate move, but it actually works. Squirming my hind legs at how good it feels, I can use my tail to push this water bottle into me.

So... that’s what I do. And I have all the time in the world to do it. I shift my upper leg occasionally, and now and again a soft grunt escapes me, but all I can think about is making those tingles rise higher in me, bit by bit. I’m a little pony mare and I’m freaking... masturbating, and it feels incredible.

I flop to my back again, and I lose the bottle, as it slips out of me and clatters on the floor, before my tail scoops it up. I don’t care though, because I’ve got both forehooves free, and one mashes into my dripping vulva, while the other strokes at those perky milk producers. Since stallions don’t have them, I guess these exist only to produce milk. My body feels streamlined, fine tuned for the task of foaling. Just a drop of seed, and everything about me is poised to create life. I’m a blood pumping, tingling, throbbing engine of foal creation. Why do I want to do this so much? Because I can do this so much!

I can spread my legs as lewdly as I want here. The thought of embarassment only occurs to me in that it is awesome that I’m not embrassed. I want this. I keep panting, and squirming around the bottle with my vagina, and clumsily rubbing the side of my foreleg against my vulva and teats, just glorying in the bubbly melty confidence of a mare who loves the idea of a male impregnating her now. Sexual arousal just makes me feel so free and confident. I’m so glad Nick came inside me. I want him to do it again and again. I rock my hips against my tail pushing on the bottle, imagining how I’d thrust like this, how he’d thrust, turning into that stallion who looks at me, says “I’m going to cum in that,” and cums.

I awaken thirsty, muzzy headed, on my back with my hind legs splayed out. Why am I...? I try to sit up and there’s a... a giant stiff cylinder rigid within my pelvis, stretching open my vagina. Did I fall asleep?! Was I sticking the water bottle in there? How did I do that? It’s huge!

...how am I going to get it out?

Author's Note

As we all know, the average pony mare’s vaginal canal terminates approximately somewhere in-between her ears.