Withania cantered out of town with minimal drama, keeping her mouth shut and responding to every pony with only smiles and waves. She headed directly for the Everfree forest, specifically the path to Zecora’s house. The zebra shaman was the least judgmental individual Withania knew - but more importantly she knew her obscure herbology. Even if she wasn’t familiar with the Tegmen, she would doubtless be able to diagnose its effects on Withania.

She had been fully prepared to explore her ‘changes’ on her own, but the idea of not only losing control of herself, but accidently bending others to her will was too much. If she hadn’t run out on Rose when she did, she was fairly certain that the flower girl would be halfway through her digestive system by now - and who knew if the reformation potion would still work.

Arriving at Zecora’s unusually decorated tree-hut, Withania knocked on the front door and then retreated by a barge pole. The door opened and Zecora appeared, mouth open in greeting, and then closing again as she saw the green earth pony sitting back near the path.

“Withania my friend, why do you sit all the way at my garden path’s end?” she said, holding the door open.

“It’s uh… a long story, but it’s kind of important that you don’t smell my breath,” called back Withania.

“H’mm… I’m quite accoustomed to dealing with fumes best not inhaled, come in and I shall ensure your breath does not prevail.”

She left the door open and disappeared inside, so Withania walked back up the path, keeping her mouth firmly shut as she entered Zecora’s home. The usual cauldron of brew stood bubbling in the centre of the room, while the round walls surrounded countertops littered with all manner of herbs, plants, and other hoof made paraphernalia for Zecora’s craft. The zebra rummaged around in a trunk at the end of her bed at the back of the room, and then turned to reveal a simple cotton mask over her muzzle.

“Now tell me what is your ail,” she said, slightly muffled by the mask, “for I can see from here that the corners of your eyes are quite pale…”

“I may as well start at the beginning. I found a white flower in the forest that closes when an insect lands on it…”

Withania proceeded to explain her story in full. Her discovery of the Tegmen, growing the magnus specimen, what she then did with it - and then her current disposition, and the fact that her breath seemed to be carrying aphrodisiac pollen. Zecora sat and listened without interrupting. She did not seem shocked, although with the mask on it was hard to gauge her reaction from just her eyes.

“That is indeed quite a tale, but do not let your embarrassment prevail - I have encountered many a pony do strange things of leisure purely for their own sense of pleasure!” Zecora chuckled slightly and winked at Withania.

“Well… at least I’m not the only one to do something stupid for an orgasm,” sighed Withania - and then quickly wafting the air in front of her self consciously. “What about the Tegmen flower? Have you seen it before?”

“I’ve seen the plant of which you speak, but into its effects, I did not peek. I know your talents well, Withania, after all of your care I do not doubt that you know more about it than this mare.”

Withania’s ears dropped as she heard this. Zecora stood up and walked around her hut, picking up a selection of ingredients and adding them to the cauldron. The simmering mix turned crystal clear, its colour evaporating like smoke.

“Touch this brew, and we will see if this really is your body new.”

Withania gingerly touched the surface of the liquid with the tip of one hoof. A green cloud formed in the centre, matching the colour of her own fern-green coat. The colour sank to the bottom of the pot, and then a stem grew up through the middle, quickly expanding into a flower - a nightshade mimicking Withania’s cutie mark.

“Your earth pony roots run deep,” commented Zecora, watching the water’s reaction, “It is your connection to flora that has allowed your body to make this leap.”

“Does that mean this wouldn’t have happened to someone else using the Tegmen?” asked Withania.

“Most plants of change have a temporary effect, but your body is in balance with this change I suspect. This does not mean you cannot return - it is about your new body that you should learn and you may find it is not your old self for which you yearn.”

‘My old self that I yearn’? thought Withania, staring into her reflection in the cauldron, I just want to understand what has happened…

“So you’re saying that I should sit tight and figure out how to control myself for now? If I bring you a specimen of the lesser Tegmen, can you see what else you can find out?”

“That would be wise. And then for the long term, a plan we can devise.”

“Thank you Zecora, I’ll come back tomorrow. Any suggestions about the whole aphrodisiac breath thing?”

The zebra walked back over to the trunk and pulled out another face mask.

“Thanks… I guess I’ll tell people that I’ve got hay fever,” said Withania.

“Or perhaps it is the hay fever that has you,” replied Zecora with a wink, “Farewell!”

Withania plodded back through the forest with her head held low. The sunlight had faded as the sky clouded over, the forecast weather rolling in from the forest. She felt a little better for telling someone else about her problems, but Zecora hadn’t really told her much she didn’t already know. Although if she had interpreted the zebra riddles correctly, Zecora seemed to think that Withania was in no specific danger from her disposition, and that was a relief.

If my body is part plant, then surely it will behave as a plant does… she mused, furrowing her brow, So if I’m pollinating and I want to ‘catch’ a pony, so to speak, I must be in the Tegmen’s catch stage.

She stopped in her tracks as she suddenly thought about how to get a Tegmen Flower past the catch stage and into second bloom. She swallowed nervously, feeling the nectar that coated the lining of her throat.

Maybe I should–

Before she finished the thought, a bright pair of eyes appeared in the gloom in front of her, suddenly reminding her that she was still in the Everfree forest. She slowly walked to her left, testing to see if she could skirt around whatever was watching and then make a run for the outside - but another pair of eyes greeted her left side.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! she chastised herself, Never sit still in the forest!

The mistake was made now though. Her heart picked up to a steady thudding as another three pairs of eyes appeared around her. Slowly, from the shrubs to her right a creature materialised from the gloom, a canine shape of sticks and dry twigs and dark eyes that reflected the muted sunlight. Timberwolves.

Withania allowed the wolf to draw near, standing stock still, watching, waiting, and just as it paused to tense up for a pounce Withania launched her own attack. Twisting around she set her workhorse hind legs in front and bucked for all she was worth, catching the head of the timberwolf on her hind hooves with a satisfying crunch. The wolf was kicked back into the brush, collapsing into a pile of firewood - but even as Withania readied herself to take on the next wolf, that pile of firewood shuddered and reordered itself back into the structure of a new wolf.

Fire was the only effective weapon against these creatures - but she didn’t have any. Right now she needed to survive, and hope for an opening through which she could escape. She could out-run timberwolves in the open - but cornered like this, she was in trouble.

Seeing that their quarry was not entirely defenseless, the other timberwolves all began to close in - and the fight began in earnest. Withania was tough, she danced on her hooves, avoiding the snapping jaws of her predators and dishing out a strong kick to anything that lined up with her thighs - but she was fighting a losing battle. Every kick sapped her energy, and the timberwolves got up again and again.

Trembling slightly but determined, Withania found herself at an impasse with the pack, neither party ready to make the next move. However a thudding step interrupted this stand off, and a sticky, damp breath blasted down onto Withania’s mane. She looked up, and found herself at the toothy end of a monstrously large timberwolf- easily three times the size of the others, with logs supporting its powerful legs and green fire burning in its eyes.

The fight was over, Withania desperately barrelled into the lesser wolf in front of her, but the others where stacked up behind, blocking her charge. She turned tail again, a wild search for any exit to this scene, only to find herself face to face with the great wolf. Its jaws yawned wide open, and with a shriek from the earth pony they closed around her waist line.

She was hoisted high into the air, clamped between a leathery tongue and hardwood fangs, hind legs kicking wildly, and then like a dog scarfing down a treat balanced on its nose, the enormous timberwolf gulped. Withania felt the pollen breath knocked out of her lungs, and a smooth esophagus enveloped her body. Dry, slippery and smooth it was unlike her previous experiences - she felt she was being sucked into a hosepipe. There was no heart beat here, no sense of life, just an ethereal machination swallowing her into some kind of internal pouch.

Coming to a rest in a leathery bag, Withania was pushed into a puddle of ooze that smelt like tree sap. No sooner were her forelegs free did she tense to start beating the enclosing walls of the timberwolf’s stomach - but the sap all around her bound her limbs reducing her punches to weak pats, nothing that even the mildest predator would notice.

Her mind raced to escapes, solutions, anything - but her reformation potions were at home, Zecora was out of range, oblivious to the drama unfolding, no other pony was expecting her home. She fell limp in the sticky sap filling the monster’s belly, feeling it wrap around her body and suck her deeper into its clutches. She felt motion as the timberwolf that had claimed her as its prey got up from its haunches and plodded away from the path, carrying her with it, and away from any possible hope of rescue.

She gently resisted the sinking sensation tying her body down for as long as possible, but before long her upraised muzzle dipped under the viscous pool, forced down by the shrinking and clenching stomach walls that sought to press her into as little space as possible. With no light, no air, and no energy left to fight, her vision faded into darkness.

Author's Note

https://youtu.be/-6ZaCY0sToo