Geldings

I didn't enjoy writing the essay, but that was kind of the point. I didn't keep it, so I can't copy it here, and I wouldn't want to repeat it anyway.

Cheerilee made me read it out loud in front of the class. Somehow I made it through the whole thing without crying. The other students were nice to me about it, though Rumble seemed pretty uncomfortable. I tried not to look at him.

When recess rolled around I didn't feel like playing outside, but Miss Cheerilee shooed me out of the classroom. So I hung out by myself on the edge of the playground. I wasn't feeling particularly friendly.

To make things worse, near the start of recess, I accidentally 'dropped'. It was faster than I'd ever done it before, so I figured it might be the hormones. I quickly retracted into my sheath before anypony could see, except maybe for a mare passing by the play area.

Halfway through recess Scootaloo trotted up to me. She's the only filly I'm brave enough to talk to, but she's more like a colt in a lot of ways. A long time ago she helped protect me from some bullies and we've been good friends ever since.

"How are you doing?" she asked. I could see the concern on her face.

"I'm okay. Just... embarrassed by what I did," I said.

She nodded. "I've been mad enough to kick a few times. It's not fun."

"It was just so quick!" I said, stomping a hoof. "It happened so fast, I didn't have a chance to stop myself. I feel scared now. Like, I'm scared of myself, if that makes any sense. Ugh, I'm such a coward!"

"You're not a coward, Featherweight," said Scootaloo, frowning. "You're one of the bravest ponies I know!"

I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, don't give me that. I'm even more of a coward than you realize," I said.

"What? How come?" She stood there, waiting for an answer.

I'm not sure why I decided to tell her. I think maybe deep down, I wanted to get caught. Being gelded would finally put an end to all my self-imposed suffering, after all.

I leaned in and whispered. "Can you keep a secret? For me?" I asked.

Scootaloo nodded slowly. "Okay. I Pinkie Promise," she said, miming the actions. "Now what's going on?"

"I had my first emission on Friday." The momentary silence felt very awkward.

"...what? And you didn't tell your mom about it?" Her eyes widened as the news sunk in.

"I'm not ready to! I just need a little more time, okay?"

She sighed and looked skyward. "Featherweight, you need to tell her. Oh my gosh. Is this why you hit your friend?"

"No, of course not! I mean... I don't think so. It was only a few days ago, for Friendship's sake."

"Okay. I guess. But those things are like a ticking time bomb, Feather..."

I looked her in the eye. "Do you really think I would be a bad stallion?"

She frowned. "That's not the point."

"I'm asking for a reason. Do you think I'd be one of the bad ones?"

Scootaloo's muzzle scrunched up. "No, of course I don't. But we can't know for sure. Nopony can. And it doesn't matter, anyway. You can't keep them. It's not safe, and you'd never get away with it. What are you going to do, run away?"

I shuffled my hooves, but didn't respond.

She gasped. "Featherweight!" she said, then lowered her voice. "I mean, I don't want you to hit me, but... think about what you're doing. Think hard."

"I'm not going to run away," I said. "I know what you're getting at, and I don't want to be anything like my father, alright? Of course I'm going to get them out. I'm just not ready yet. I need to be ready first."

"If you had your first emission, that means you're ready," she insisted. "Look, they can put you under all the way if you're too scared."

"That's not it. I'm not afraid of the procedure. I mean, I'm anxious about it, but I could do it if I had to," I said. "Having it done would be a relief, actually. Hiding it from everypony has made me a mess inside."

"Then what is it?" she asked.

I closed my eyes. "I'm afraid of what losing them will do to me. I don't want to be a different pony, Scoot."

When I opened my eyes, I saw a sympathetic look on her face. "Feather. You're not going to be a different pony. Is Rumble a different pony now?"

"No. Maybe. Not really. I dunno," I said, shrugging.

"He's your best friend. You of all ponies should know," she said, her eyes narrow.

I sighed. "Okay, he's not a different pony," I admitted. "But it still doesn't feel right. It's like, gelding means there's something wrong with me. It's not just my body, it's me that's defective. I'm broken inside because I was born a colt."

"That isn't true and you know it! You are NOT broken. Colts are every bit as good as fillies."

I snorted. "Then why do I have to cut part of my body off?"

"Well... You know the reasons. Cancer. Anger. Sex crimes," she said, and each word burned me like a lit match. "It makes you calmer. It's relaxing. It's healthy. And yes, it keeps ponies from becoming monsters. I would look forward to it! Why wouldn't somepony choose to be a gelding?"

"It's not a choice," I said. "And I don't know, Scoot. I can't justify how I feel, and I know I'm probably being selfish. I'm just not ready to change, and this is a permanent change we're talking about. There's no going back."

"The only permanent change is what your balls will do to your brain if you keep them after they start pumping out test... testy-whatever," she said. "If you want to stay the same, gelding is the only way to do it."

My eyes started to tear up, and she reached over to cup my chin in her hoof.

"Er... Please don't cry. I'm really bad with this kinda thing," she said, looking embarrassed. "Sweetie Belle does it sometimes and I never know how to make her feel better."

"You don't know what this is like," I whispered.

"Maybe I do, at least a little," she said. "I spent literally years questing for my cutie mark, because I wanted to be an adult. After a while, Apple Bloom started to worry about what would happen when we finally got our wish, and then Sweetie and I started worrying too. It's a big change, and you don't know what to expect."

"It didn't change you that much, though, right?" I pointed out. "I mean, you just found out you were good at what you'd been obsessing over the whole time. It was, um... 'irony', I think."

"It was scary is what it was," she said. "Growing up is always scary. And even after we got our marks, we were still just foals."

"You're a mare, Scootaloo. You had your heat already."

"No, I'm not. I'm still a filly," she said. "The cute-ceañara and getting your heat are just... artificial. I realize that now. What makes you an adult is how mature you are as a pony, and that takes time. That's why there's still stuff you can't do until you're seventeen."

"Okay, that only proves my point. My balls shouldn't matter. Gelding isn't what makes you an adult."

"But doing your gelding proves you're mature enough to accept responsibility for yourself. It's more important than a heat," she said. "Look, I'll help you tell your mom if that makes it easier. I'd even go to it with you, if you wanted me to. I mean, it would be super gross, but I'm your friend."

I chuckled, wiping away a tear. "Rumble said he'd go with me too. That was before I slugged him in the face, though."

She smiled. "He seems okay. I bet he'd still do it for you."

"He's a good guy, yeah," I said. "Look, it's only been a few days. I'll figure this out soon, okay? Don't tell anypony? Please?"

Scootaloo groaned. "I can't believe you talked me into this. The next time you ask me to keep a secret, it needs to be something legal, okay?"

My eyes widened, and unconsciously my left rear hoof began tapping the ground.

"Yes, I won't tell anypony," she mumbled. "But that's only because you're going to tell your mother. Soon. Right?"

I nodded. "I have to tell her sooner or later. Keeping this a secret has been really painful."

"That's guilt, Feather." She raised her eyebrows at me.

"Um, yeah. I guess," I said.

I decided against telling her about the quill. If she knew how much pain I was putting myself through, she'd know for sure I was crazy.

Because I was crazy, of course.

After detention, Rumble cantered over to where I was walking. He wasn't in detention anymore, so he must have come back to school just to see me. The operation seemed to be affecting him less now. I looked down nervously at the ground and kicked at it with a hoof.

"It's cool, Feather," he said as he reached speaking distance. "We're cool, right?"

I nodded, then reached out and hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

"Forget it, it's okay! Just... try not to do it again, because Mom's already on the warpath."

"Oh gosh. I hope she can forgive me," I said. I pulled back from the hug. "Colt, I really gave you a shiner." The purple mark ran a curve from his cheekbone to his temple.

Rumble grinned broadly. "Yeah, I know! It looks pretty cool, I think."

I frowned and shuddered. "Ugh."

"Dude, it's fine. I'll tell Mom about the essay you wrote, and she'll talk to your mom about it, and we'll be able to play together again soon," he said. "Just... not today."

I nodded. "Right. Well, take care, alright?"

"Yeah. Oh, and I'll show you the scar when you feel up to it, just let me know. Catch you later," he said, then cantered toward his home.

I turned and walked home at a slow pace. Mom was waiting for me when I got home.

"How was school?" she asked. I could tell she was nervous and trying to hide it.

"It went fine," I said. "It was embarrassing, but nopony made fun of me or anything. Rumble even seems kinda happy about it."

Mom breathed a huge sigh of relief. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetie." She kissed my forehead and sat down at the kitchen table where she was working a crossword.

I stood there for a moment in thought, then pulled up a chair. "Mom? Can I ask you something?"

Mom looked up to me, then scooted her chair closer to mine. "Of course you can, Feather."

I looked out the window and fidgeted with my hooves. "Do you think I would be a bad stallion? I mean, not bad like my father, just... if I kept my testicles, would that make me bad?"

Mom raised her eyebrows. "Well, it's not something you're able to do," she said. "For better or worse, it's not something you get to choose."

"That wasn't what I asked," I countered.

Her lips pressed flat through a pregnant pause. "No, Featherweight. I don't think you would be a bad stallion," she said, her voice soft. "Why are you asking me this? Is this about your father?"

"No. I just... I don't know if I'd want to do it, if I had the choice," I said. I felt guilty and ashamed, and I closed my eyes. Then I felt Mom petting my forelock.

"I'm sorry this is something you have to face. I don't like it either. We all need to grow up someday, and we don't get to choose when..."

I opened my eyes and looked up at Mom, frowning. "What do you mean, 'we'?"

Mom retracted her hoof and set it on the table, but said nothing.

"I mean, you never had to 'grow up', did you?" I accused, pointing a hoof.

She looked away from me for a moment. "No. But if removing a small part of my body made it less likely that I would kill or rape somepony, of course I would do it," she said. "I'd view it as my social responsibility."

"That's easy for you to say. You've never had to worry about being gelded—no, castrated," I said, emphasizing the word. I watched my mother wince.

"Sweetie... it isn't fair," said Mom, looking back to me. "Girls don't have to give as much as boys do. Boys don't have to go into heat, but gelding is worse. Colts get the short end of nature's stick. I feel terrible about it. I wish it didn't have to be like this, I honestly do."

I rubbed at my temple with a hoof. "You'd really cut off a part of your body for society? For real?"

"If it saved as many lives as gelding saves, yes I would," she said.

"And you would force me to do it?" I said, my voice a flat monotone.

Mom paused, and bit her lip. "No."

I blinked a few times. "Wait, what?"

"Do you think I want to see you cut open?" said Mom, her brow furrowing as she suddenly raised her voice at me. "No mother wants to see her foal suffer, much less lose a part of his body!" She took a few deep breaths, then finally her shoulders relaxed a bit.

"I don't understand. What about the 'greater good'?"

A sad smile rested on my mother's lips. "Gelding is for the best. I agree you should do it, but... I wish it could be your choice. In an ideal world, it would be."

"I guess this isn't an ideal world," I said, looking down at the table.

Mom sighed and reached out to stroke my cheek. "No world can be, sweetie."

I swallowed hard. "So why do you think I should do it? You said I would be a good stallion."

My mother grimaced. "Feather... do they tell you about foal molestation at school?"

My ears swiveled forward and I cocked my head. "If somepony older tries to have sex with you?" I said. "Miss Cheerilee warned us about it, yeah. We're supposed to tell somepony if it happens, because it can hurt you really bad, like rape. And it doesn't happen much, at least. That's all I know."

"It happens more often than you'd think," said Mom. "But it used to be commonplace when geldings were stallions. One stallion could molest a large number of foals before getting caught, you see. According to the history books, one in five fillies were victims of foal molestation in the pre-gelding era. One in five, Feather. And around one out of nine colts, if I remember correctly."

"That's... that's just crazy," I said.

"It ruined the lives of millions of ponies. After gelding, the proportion of victims went down by more than ninety percent," she said. "Gelding stops an overwhelming amount of suffering in the world. If I had testicles, of course I'd want them removed. I can't justify keeping them."

"Mom, I would never do that to a foal!" I said, then I frowned and clenched my teeth.

"I know you wouldn't, honey," she said. "But you still might be attracted to foals when you grow up. That isn't something you have any control over. And if you were, you would suffer because of it."

"I'll be attracted to mares my own age," I said. "Even if I had my balls, I would. You said it was a small number of stallions doing all the molesting, anyway."

"The Crown commissioned a lot of research before the gelding law was passed, all those centuries ago. Few stallions back then acted on their feelings, but many stallions were attracted to fillies and colts. Studies put the number somewhere between twenty and fifty percent of stallions who found young fillies attractive. I don't mean young mares, either, I mean little fillies, even before their cute-ceañaras. Nopony would admit it openly, but the research was clear. If you don't believe me, go to Princess Twilight's Royal Library and look up the history in a collegiate-level book."

I really didn't know what to say. I just felt sick inside.

"Now, what if you grew up and discovered you were attracted to little fillies?" she asked me.

I recoiled in revulsion. "I would NOT hurt them. I don't care how much my balls made me want it!"

"You don't know what the impulse is like, Feather. It's very strong, too strong for many stallions to resist, and it's easy to convince yourself what you're doing isn't hurting anypony when it is," she said. "Nonetheless, I believe you. I don't think you'd ever hurt a foal. But even if you did resist, you'd still imagine doing it, probably every day. You'd have to live with yourself, knowing how you felt inside. You'd be miserable. I can't imagine you suffering like that. I love you too much. I'd do almost anything to prevent it."

I started to tear up. "B-but, you, you know I wouldn't be a monster. You said so." I sniffed and wiped the moisture from my eyes.

She nodded solemnly. "I do, but... every mother would say that about her colt. That's the problem: there's no way to know for sure. Not until it's too late," she said. Her eyes were watering, too. "If the choice were yours, I would beg you to go through with it. I'd have one of my own legs cut off if I knew that would convince you. I'm dead serious when I say that. All I want in life is for you to be happy. Geldings are much happier on average than stallions were. They're less angry, have fewer negative impulses to struggle with, and they lead very rewarding lives. The risk you'd face as a stallion... it's just terrible. It isn't worth being a little stronger or having more sex."

I choked up for a moment, and nodded. "O-okay," I said. I had run out of words.

Mom stood up, picked me up in one leg, and held me tight. I cried a little. When she finally let go, I wiped my eyes again and stared at the floor.

There was a moment of silence.

"Son, do you have something you want to tell me?" Mom asked, very gingerly.

"You already know, don't you?" I said, my voice cracking.

Mom nodded. "I do. I'm not sure how you've been hiding it from me, but a mother knows."

"So... you're going to take me now?" I asked, looking up to her with bleary eyes.

She smiled weirdly, clearly holding back tears. "No, I'm not. I'll let you decide when you're ready," she said. "But I want you to do it soon. If you won't do it for yourself, then please, do it for me, Feather. Or do it for your friends."

"Th-thanks," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I will."

I spent most of the evening crying in my room.

That night, despite the pain, I again slept with the feather in my sheath. I wasn't going to leave a wet spot for her to find, whether or not she knew. I couldn't imagine doing that to her.