Somewhere deep inside Paper Press, Withania could sense a part of herself - something absolute and constant, like a lifeline to a physical body. My seed, she thought. Her body was gone, melted away and absorbed, but part of her remained. With nothing to contain it, her consciousness was spread out, disseminated through the body of Paper Press. She didn’t have limbs or any sense of shape, but could feel herself as the soft and heavy chub of Paper’s belly and hips. She couldn’t see or hear directly, but senses came to her like the memory of something that had just happened, something Paper Press herself was experiencing.

The sensation that dominated everything was the push-pull of Paper’s body in motion. For every step she took, her hips compressed and stretched in turn, pressing and releasing Withania’s foggy mind trapped inside them. The kneading sensations roused and kindled Withania in a way she couldn’t control or fight against, nor wanted to.

All the ideas that had been swimming around in Withania’s head - her transformation, getting into trouble with friends, being seen differently, what she wanted going forwards - were finally dissipated along with the rest of her damaged body, and now she was a passenger in the body of a new friend.

Paper Press’ body was big and heavy, and being as such didn’t come without effort. Withania was strong and nimble, needing little to no effort in day to day existence. Paper was big, and Withania could sense the additional effort it took her just walking around the library all day. There was a determination to be the best she could be that made Withania feel like she’d taken herself for granted, a determination that made itself apparent every time Paper Press used her magic. Withania’s earth pony magic was subtle, unseen, a state of mind. But Paper Press was a unicorn and each time her horn illuminated to levitate a stack of books, or adjust the book binder, Withania felt a surge of energy flowing all the way from Paper’s hooves. It went through every fibre of her body, focusing to the point of her horn, a current that spoke to every single muscle, yet didn’t strain a single one of them.

Withania shivered with delight, feeling like she was pressed inside a soft pillow being gently fluffed and then periodically pressed against a warm radiator for a second or two.

Paper Press talked aloud, saying sweet nothings about how soft Withania was on her hips, how her belly swayed. Withania did not hear this, but somehow knew every word as if it were spoken directly into her mind. Occasionally Paper Press talked to another pony, someone coming in to collect or deposit a book, someone unaware that Withania was trapped only an arm’s length away in the midnight blue flank of the librarian. Trapped, but also lacking any sense of desire to leave. For as long as Paper Press desired, Withania was part of her body now, and Withania had no responsibilities other than to languish in constant and relaxing stimulation.

Once the afternoon drew late and library hours were over, Paper Press retired to her private chambers within the castle and headed straight for her bed. She was partial to a good nap after work so she could stay up late and watch the stars.

“Alright Withania,” she said, climbing onto the bed with a heavy protest of the mattress springs, “As much as I’ve enjoyed your company today, I’m going to evict you for the night.”

Withania had little chance to process these words, as without warning Paper Press settled her full weight onto her flank, seemingly knowing where to aim for maximum effect. If Withania had thought she couldn’t be squashed again, having already been flattened, eaten, and digested, she was dead wrong. Her very soul was pressed down into Paper’s bed as the unicorn’s shapely rear spread itself on the mattress, not unlike the smothering weight she’d experienced earlier in the day, but now she was part of it. She wasn’t the object being pressed, but the weight itself. Euphoria flooded Withania’s addled consciousness, filling her out with primal lust, overriding everything else, above and beyond, untempered, unbalanced, until whatever was left of Withania’s thoughts blacked out into dreamless slumber.

***

As a pony, Withania’s brain raced through thoughts and ideas, hopes and dreams. As another inch on Paper Press’ ass, all of this was suppressed under a thick fog of sensual stimulation in a dream-like state. But as a plant, Withania’s brain was finally slow enough to take her time.

Plants weren’t in a hurry. Her progress was slow, reaching out into the rich soil and drawing in the energy of the earth, soaking in water and nutrients and building a thread to break the surface with. Instead of thoughts that buzzed like a hummingbird, chasing round in circles, her consciousness reformed from her seed calm and focused. Growing was effortless as she emerged from the ground and spread a leaf or two for balance.

All her life she had been ordinary - ordinary in the sense of normal. A simple earth pony in good health and fitness. She had made good use of her life, following her heart and making productive use of her time. But never once had she questioned what she was, nor had she needed to.

Millimetre by millimetre she grew taller, drawing up food and fluids from her roots, swaying in slow motion that only trees would see as she spread another leaf, angling upwards in a fanfare for the magnum opus that was to follow.

Her voracious adventures with her friends had meandered between consenting experimentation and tipsy frolics that had tested the limits of comfort for some, but never harmed. To blame them on her transformation into a plant-pony hybrid would be to shirk responsibility. There was no monster inside of her that wrested control of her body away from her, her actions were her own.

A cluster of scale leaves formed at the tip of her stem, giving way to layers of petals pushing into the open, surrounding a soft centre of complex xylem structure. This was a dance that was hard-coded into her, not just as a plant, but as an earth pony. She understood every step and minute from her own nature, and her connection to nature. All that remained was to grow larger and await the sunlight that would cue her performance.

Paper Press had imparted on her, in the strangest ways that perhaps only the two of them would understand, the experience of a body that wasn’t always easy to work with, that could be equally an object of desire to some and disdain to others, even the self. But it was her body, and taken care of, it would support her through all endeavours.

As the light of morning swelled, the ghostly green petals of the flower shifted, sliding across one another to expand like an aperture at their tips, growing into a full bloom that cupped the triumphant fruit of labour.

Withania opened her eyes, squinting slightly at the bright light shining down on her from… the ceiling. She looked down. She was back in Twilight’s basement lab of the castle, illuminated by a magic that mimicked the sun well enough for her to feel the familiar warmth of her photosynthesis. The room seemed much smaller to her, especially while she was a good six feet off of the ground, surrounded by her soft petals. Her hips and hindlegs were wedged comfortably in her stem, but she felt like she could pull them out at any time. For now, she felt every inch of the thick stem and roots standing from the earthen floor she had grown from.

“Good morning, sleep well?” said a familiar voice.

Withania leaned over, parting two petals to see between them. Twilight Sparkle and Paper Press sat side by side looking up at her. The Princess had a notebook and quill in magic, clearly having been taking extensive notes, while Paper merely looked up with a knowing smile. They both seemed so small, but memories of being at eye level with both of them surfaced in her mind.

“I… I think so,” said Withania, adjusting to the speed of her pony brain again after a long night of contemplation.

“It certainly looks that way,” said Paper Press, “Look behind you.”

Withania turned in the direction Paper had nodded her head in. The opposite wall was a single giant mirror, displaying in full glory a huge flower. The stem was as thick as a pony, the leaves broad and lustrous, and the flower cradling a fern green pony with a terracotta mane, speckled with tiny yellow flowers.

It’s me, she thought, looking into her own eyes. The whole flower is me.

Even though this was no less than the third time she had regrown, even though she had experienced an awakening similar to this in the magnus tegmen a dozen times before her transformation, seeing a clear reflection of herself at full bloom hit her differently. Never in her wildest dreams did she believe she could grow something so beautiful yet so simple, and as she bore witness to it, it was herself.

She looked away, and instinctively pulled herself free of her stem. The flower leaned over slightly as she shifted her weight and slid down one giant petal, landing gracefully in front of her friends with a rustle of her mane and tail settling around her.

“Oh no!” exclaimed Paper Press, looking up at the flower. The moment Withania had detached herself, it began to wilt, the stunning petals shrinking, and the stem sagging under the weight.

“Don’t worry,” said Withania, smiling at the dwindling plant and then at Paper Press, “I’ll grow back again. Plants always do.”

Twilight looked on wistfully, clearly saddened that she wouldn’t be able to host a giant flower of her own, but knowing that this was how nature worked.

“Withania… I’ve done a lot of research this week. There is a way to get you back to normal. It’s more than just a simple spell, but with the two of us working together, I believe we can do it.”

Withania sat down and was absolutely still for a few moments. No breathing, no twitching muscles, barely a pulse to speak of, and she closed her eyes and smiled at Twilight.

“Twilight, thank you for your hard work, I would love to hear about your theories, and see all your notes about me - but actually, I think I’m going to be just fine as I am.”

Author's Note

And that, everyone, is the story about how I turned myself into a plant-pony.
I want to thank everyone who followed along this story from the beginning or even only recently - it wasn't the intention to leave it so long to finishing, but this week it finally felt right, and with today being the funny day of the year (it's past midnight here, but hey it's still 8/8 in the west) I made a push to get this done.

I hope this final scene wasn't too sappy or sudden, but this story was always about the emotional whiplash of vore and pony in crisis

Withania will return, back in short form, I think I'm done with long-form content in this universe at least! See you around, plant ponies...