Discord's Gift

by Ponyess

Rating: everyone
Tags: Pinkie Pie, Random, Discord, Anthro, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1861

Snatched out of my home, and placed into a life that is nothing the likes of what I could have imagined. A Discorded existence among candy-coloured horses. I could but scratch my head.

Just because I had gone to bed, in the privacy of my own home, doesn’t mean I will wake up there.

While I did not know to accuse the Draconequus named Discord, but it is he who placed me where I had woken up.

While the bed initially looks fairly normal, but I had been changed beyond reason.  Why had he picked me for this joke? Why do I have to walk on hooves? What other sinister changes had he imposed upon me?

Published 2018-06-28 19:00:12 UTC
Last updated 2018-06-28 19:00:12 UTC

Discorded

.

The room is still dark, as I wake up. Had I really woken up that early?

I blink, several times; in the vein attempt of finding myself back in my bed. I pinch my arm, hoping to wake up, but to no avail.

“Ouch!” that really did hurt.

“Hope it will not leave a mark, now!” I ponder.

I hear the door, and someone is opening it. There is precious little light outside the room in which I had woken up. I can see nothing.

Strange clopping noises, as if I had been in the stables. Someone is clearly entering the room. Some Pony, to be exact.

“Good morning!” she exclaims, just as she is igniting the light and I am flooded by overwhelming brightness, before I could even shield my eyes.

After blinking several times, I manage to see that the room in which I am is pink. Maybe a hint towards a bright cerise? The Pony before me is pink, or Pinkie Pie. Pinkamena Pieane Pie, to be exact.

“Morning?” I inquire, trying to make sense out of a situation that is clearly beyond insane.

Just the fact that a candy-coloured Horse is speaking to me, alone. I just do not dare question, or openly criticize the situation right now.

“Well, Duh!” she merely exclaims; “Of course, silly; Celestia raised the sun, hours ago, by now!” she added, more as an afterthought.

“Oh, wait! You haven’t even had a single muffin, just yet!” she corrects herself.

“No, when would I have had the time for that? Where would I even get one, where I am now?” I inquire.

“At the Sugar-cube Corner, of course!” she responds, giggling at the mere notion of asking the obvious.

“I just happen to have a selection of cupcakes, for you to sample!” she then points out.

A large, expectant smile soon started to spread out over her face. Just that the grin soon started to take on frightening proportions, even for such a jolly pony as Pinkie.

The first of the room, I managed to see; is the pink wallpaper, with a yellow and two blue balloons in formation of Pinkie Pie’s cutie mark. How curious. The floor is laid with pink cherry wood, only coated with a smooth and grabby, clear rubber polish.

Once I slide my right hand out from under the quilt under which I had been sleeping; I notice the pure, white skin and the inch long, semi square and brightly pink, highly glossy nails. Hoping this was the end of the unusual changed imposed upon me. Had I known of Discord, I would have known better than to hope for this, of course.

Bright cerise, rubbery touch pads; from the final joint of each finger, to the edge of the finger, where the nail begins. Of course, the nail is not painted pink; it is pure pink, true and through. Furthermore, the palm of the hand is a smooth suction cup; if it had been the final punch line of a joke, maybe I could have enjoyed this.

“Ooooh!” I gasp, in stark realization of the situation in which I had found myself.

While I could admire the stylish long nails; I had never been one to desire to have them myself. If I can adore the pet, but I had never been one to desire these touch pads for myself either. Why? It had never been in high fashion, or popular anywhere I had known of either.

I managed to fold the quilt up towards the wall, before I slide my legs out from under the quilt. Where I had expected to see a pair of small, cute girl’s feet, I find a pair of brightly, metallic bloody red and glossy hooves of the equine variety. While out of place for me, they are perfectly fine and normal. Of course, I will never be able to walk in any normal, human shoes, ever again.

The Pony by the side of my bed did not react to any of the odd details, as if it had been perfectly normal to her. Likewise, she also ignored my nudity; which I guess is perfectly normal for a Pony, like her. Why would a Pony even consider wearing clothes, or anything?

“Oh, wait; you may feel better, wearing something?” she merely blurted out, as if she had actually been reading my mind.

“Yes!” I merely responded, before I had the time to consider.

“Technically, you don’t have to wear anything; nudity is perfectly fine in Ponyville!” she pointed out.

“On the other hoof, fine clothes is still fashion; among the more Noble ponies, even in Ponyville!” she then added, just to make the point.

“Why did I have to end up with this odd Pony, of all the ponies in Ponyville? How and why did I end up in Ponyvile, of all the places one could have been abducted to?” I ponder.

After a moment, I had actually managed to raise to what is now my hooves. As strange as it may be; it isn’t all that had to stand up and even walk around.

“Your clothes are in that wardrobe!” she pointed out, pointing a hoof at the wardrobe at the foot end of the room.

“My clothes, are in there?” I inquire, pointing at the wardrobe she had just indicated.

“Well, duh! Of course your clothes are in there; it is a wardrobe, you know!” she exclaims, giggling ecstatically for several minutes on end.

“Of course, I know what a wardrobe is!” I pondered; “So the clothes in there are all mine?” I inquired, trying to recover some ground.

“This is your room, so the clothes are yours; naturally! Why else would they be in your room?” she pointed out, giggling, all over again.

“I guess that does make sense!” I responded.

“I am certain, these clothes will fit you!” she then added, in a more serious voice.

Now she was scaring me. The change in tone and mannerisms were unsettling to me.

Of course, I had no choice; but to walk over to the wardrobe and find the clothes for myself. Naturally.

“Clip, clop! Clip, clop!” I hear my hooves, as I walk over to the wardrobe.

“I hope you don’t mind wearing pink, even if you seem to be more of a red Fox!” she points out, in a more excited tone.

“I did have long, red hair, even before I came to this place!” I pondered; “and my hooves are brightly red!” I continued.

Of course, what had been my hands had changed into something more akin to paws, even with the long nails. Whatever purpose they were supposed to serve here.

“These doors were designed with someone with actual hands in mind; not for a pony with hooves!” I realize.

“A top, a skirt and gloves; all in her bright pink!” I ponder.

“Not just a single set, or ensemble, but dozens of them.” I ponder.

“These are neither cotton, nor silk; just as they are not likely to accept stains from daily wear and tear!” she merely giggles, as she had snuck up behind me.

From right to left, the set is mate, ordinary, glossy and glistering wet. Just that I could see three sets of each. As expected, they are all the same pink hue. Trusting Pinkie Pie to make them all pink.

I was looking at the suits, put before me; incapable of making heads or tails out of the situation. Ending up picking the last one, half by half expecting it to just slip through my fingers and gather in a wet pool on the floor between my red hooves.

“Oooh, shiny!” Pinkie exclaims, as she notices the choice.

“Yeah, I guess it is!” I respond, giggling at the situation.

I manage to step into the skirt and pull it up; only to feel the integrated panties hug my rump firmly. Just failing to notice, how it also slipped into my rump and orchid. Just a few tentative tugs, to make sure it was fitting just right.

“That does feel better!” I point out, having at least something on.

“That was the intent, but put on the rest and you are ready to go!” she responds, giggling at the situation.

“Thanks, Pinkie!” I respond, as I pull out the matching top and pull it down over my head.

With just a few tentative tugs, I make sure the top is sitting just right. I notice how the top is covering and supporting both my breasts comfortably. Of course, the tight and highly elastic Equestrian rubber is reaching down to the lower edge of my rib cadge and all the way up to my chin. Just the same, it is reaching seven inches down my right and left arms too.

“This suit is carefully and intently leaving my midriff bare!” I ponder.

Once I had put the top on, I pull out the right and left glove in turn; slipping my hands in, feeling the slippery material slide over my skin rather eagerly. Maybe a bit too eagerly, for my taste; yet, there is nothing I could do about this now. Maybe I could have tried out another pair of gloves, in the vain hope that the effect wild not be the same with the other gloves.

As I lift my right hand up before my eyes, I notice the gloves leaving my fingers utterly bare, still covering the arm all the way up to the elbow. The glove does emphasize my effeminate arm perfectly; or, maybe a bit too much.

“Now you are ready, for the fun!” she promptly exclaims.

“I am? Well, at least I am reasonably properly dressed up!” I respond.

Before I had realized it, she had stepped up to me; leaving herself exposed, and ready for me to do what she had intended for me to do all along.

“How about you place your hands, on my head and give me a good scratch behind my ears?” she suggests, giggling at the prospect.

“You asked for it!” I respond; as I tentatively start to scratch her behind her ears, as if she had just been a little cat.

“Iiiih!” she squeals in delight.

“I did not realize, a fully grown horse could act, like a little kitten!” I ponder, giggling at the realization.

“Just keep scratching!” she suggests.

“Wait, is this what the nails were for? I guess this does feel better, than I had been expecting!” I ponder, as I keep scratching her.

As a Scratcher Girl, at least I have a purpose, despite myself. I guess I could enjoy this, even if the Pony would enjoy it just as much.

“There you have it; now you are Pinkie Pie’s Scratcher Girl!” a voice exclaims, from behind me.

I had missed to notice, when the Draconequus entered the room, from wherever he had been hiding. Discord had been expecting the moment, now basking in the light of the accomplishment.

“Is that, why my suit is pink? So that it is obvious that I belong to this Pony?” I realize, in shock.

The End