Cheerielee's School for Peculiar Girls

by Ponyess

Rating: mature
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Original Character, Fetish, Comedy, Rarity, Random, Human, Anthro, Cheerilee, Coco Pommel
Length: 7992

Cheerielee opens a school, for peculiar girls. The boarding school is only for peculiar girls.

Cheerielee opens a school, for peculiar girls, with the help of friends.

If the girls are peculiar, maybe the school and the classes had to be too?

Still, everything has to start somewhere; dressing up for class, is as good as anywhere.

Naturally, the irregularities do not have to stop there.

Surreal imagery included.

Published 2018-10-06 00:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2018-10-29 07:56:40 UTC

Entry-Fee; Signed up: 1

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I had jumped on the offer of attending Cheerilee’s boarding school for peculiar girls, the instant the offer had been presented to me. While I never had been away from my home and family; the offer of a school for a girl like me, had been too good to pass up.

A ticket to the train had been included, in the acceptance notification. For some reason, the letter is handwritten; not written on machine, or anything such. It is not exactly handwritten, she has no hands; she uses her mouth and an old style quill to write. I knew nothing of this, when I had accepted her offer.

As per request, I had come with only the clothes on my back; everything is included. I will be wearing a school uniform; sounds old and outdated, but can be quite comfortable and fun, once you do get used to it.

I had jumped onto the train, a night train by the way. I was sleeping on the way to the boarding school, mind you. I guess that is raising a flag or two, for you; but it means I arrive fresh as a daisy. Of course; I wear a top and skirt, aside from panties and socks under my shoes. Even if it may still be warm outside, I don’t go out, bare-foot.

While it is not Cheerilee herself waking me up, but my bed had been moved into the new room. There is not much privacy, in the room of a boarding school; as if I had been expecting it. I sleep in what proves to be a double bed. I have a night stand, and that is all I have in the room.

As I wake up, I notice the polished, black rubber coated floor under the bed. The walls are leaf green. Incidentally, the ceiling is coated with mate, black rubber and a local star skape. There is no window, but at least I have a night light lamp over my bed, or my end of the double bed.

I wear nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and top. I had after all been instructed to come lightly packed and clothed.

I fold up the quilt towards the middle of the bed, before I slide my feet out and down towards the floor. I sit up and raise to my feet, before I fold the quilt back in what is to pass for perfect and pristine order. Strange, just white cotton in the bed.

I pick up my skirt and step right into it, before I give it a few tentative tugs in order to make it slip into place.

My sister, or roommate had stirred at about the same time. I had watched her, as she is mirroring my moves. Of course, she is watching me, as she is slipping her skirt on.

“There, good as new!” I mumble; “Oh, and good morning!” I add.

“Good morning!” she responds.

“I guess, we could as well head off, to the initiation!” I suggest.

“The sooner, the better; I am looking forwards, to see what is in store for us!” she exclaims.

“Me, too!” I respond, as we walk towards the door.

She opens the door and I follow her out. I close the door behind me, before I follow her down the hall; towards the end of the hall, where the door to the initiation is waiting for us. Other girls are walking before us, and yet other girls are walking behind us. It is, as if we had been made to wake up at the same time. I guess that is a bit peculiar, to me.

I notice the door closing, after each pair is entering the room, at the end of the hall. The door opens, just as the next pair of girls arrive. I enter the room, with my sister. There are two seats and a wardrobe. I can also see a screen.

A silicon white Lady in a deep, purple top and skirt enters the room, just a minute after the door closed behind me.

“I am Rarity, and this is my assistant; Coco Pommel!” she is presenting herself.

“Greetings; I hope you will be satisfied, with our services here!” Coco offers.

“Of course, now it is time; for you to slip into your new clothes, before you can truly be part of the school!” Rarity points out.

Coco pulls out a Ponequine and a Girlequine, from an unseen space behind the screen. She steps back, and Rarity steps forwards. I notice a small, bright blue orb of light at the tip of Rarity’s horn. The orb starts to grow, in size and intensity; until the light flows down the length of her horn, like an avalanche. After another moment, Rarity reaches out for the still pinkish Girlequine. I can see a pair of shiny rubber tights form on her; reaching down from her waist and cover the lower part of her body.

Her girlish feet soon change, and a pair of equine hooves are developing at the point where her human toes had been. The tights are a light shade of purple, while the hooves are a darker shade of the same hue. After a moment, I can see how the hooves takes on a sheen, as if they are being polished.

A moment after the tights had formed fully, a top is forming on her upper body, starting from where the tights ended and all the way up to the head. I notice the top covering the arms, hands and fingers as well. The hue is identical to the tights, but no hooves are forming. Still, the nails grow and appears to be polished, in the same manner as the hooves had been.

The last part of the process; is the silicon white body, covering the entire body as it leaves the arms and legs bare. I can see the breasts swell, and the nipples grow dramatically.

“Is this representing Cheerilee?” I inquire, as I notice the striking similarity.

“Yes, this is indeed Cheerilee!” Coco confirms.

“I just use her colours, as an example you will recognize!” Rarity explains.

“Cheerilee, is a pony?” my sister inquires.

“She is, indeed!” Rarity confirms, and Coco is giggling.

“Equestrian pony, of course; an earth-pony, to be exact!” Coco then clarifies.

“She is not a unicorn, like me!” Rarity points out.

“Are we, earth-ponies too?” I inquire.

“I do not know, the design does not specify which type of pony you are!” Rarity explains.

“Curious, and I guess that does make it more interesting!” I respond.

“Time to dress up?” my sister suggests.

“Indeed!” Rarity responds.

“Here are your tights, if you please!” Rarity offers.

“Thank you, Rarity!” My sister and I respond, in chorus.

The tights she is offering is typically for Rarity, a silicon white. I feel the slippery smoothness in my hands, as I accept the garment.

Looking closer, the tights are apparently the more delicate and detailed variety. Maybe I should have been expecting this, from Rarity.

At first, the rubber is just normal, but then it starts to grow slippery and get a fluid sensation to it; as if it had been melting in my very hands, while I slip the garment on. It is a strange sensation and a query feeling to the event; but I had signed up, knowing what I am getting myself into. Even if I had not been given every last, little detail of this particular item.

The tights are just as tight, as I had imagined them to be; from the description I had been given, prior to accepting the offer in the first place. It also feels, as if these tights had been lubricated, in order to make them slip on and over my skin. I certainly do enjoy the sensations and the feeling the tights are giving me, in the process.

I lift my right foot, slipping it into and down the leg of the tights, feeling the rubber embracing the foot and leg in the process. I finally manage to lean on the foot; once I feel the rubber sliding into place over my toes, foot and all the way up the right leg. Now I do repeat the process; before I can stand firmly on the floor by my sister and before Rarity and her assistant, Coco Pommel.

“Here is your top!” Rarity explains.

This garment feels exactly as the tights did; when I accepted them, and slipped them on. I feel my hands and fingers slide into the sleeves of the top. My fingers stretched out and spread wide. Curious how tight the top is over my chest, considering the effect on my appearance. I lift up my hands and explore my bust; finding a pair of perfect, round orbs where my breasts had been, giggling at myself as I explore the smoothness.

Once I had slipped into the top; Rarity helps me with the two buttons on my back. Curiously enough, I barely feel the buttons, for more than a minute; than the sensation had faded away, into the vague obscurity I could barely even recall.

“Here is your body!” Rarity explains, as she is presenting the final part of my ensemble.

I accept and slip into the suit. Slipping my right and left foot n, feeling the white rubber slide up my legs. I slip my hands in and pull the suit up.

“There, beautiful!” Coco exclaims; as she is finally looking at us, wearing the full suit.

The body remains white, as polished silicon. My arms and legs are taking on a different hue, but only once I had managed to slip into the body. Of course; I can not take of neither the top, not the tights now since the body is on.

Once the suit is on, I sit down in the seat and lean back. My sister is sitting beside me, as I am watching my legs change in the fashion Rarity had previously demonstrated.

“Coco, the polish!” Rarity instructs her assistant.

“Of course!” Coco responds; as she is presenting the polish.

I watch, as Rarity is uncapping the can. Coco is mirroring Rarity, as she is assisting my sister. I see Rarity slipping the brush out and applying the semi-clear sapphire polish onto my hooves. Watching her, as she applies the polish; starting at the top of the hoof at the middle, then moving out, right and left, right and left.

Rarity continues by polishing my left hoof, in the same manner as she had polished my right hoof; only to start over and repeat the process once more. Only finishing, after she had applied the three coats of polish. I had felt nothing, but can clearly see the effect in the growing effect of glossiness on my hooves.

Once she polished my hooves, she cap the polish and pick up the vial of nail-polish.

“Your right hand, please; fingers spread wide!” Rarity is instructing me.

I follow her instruction. While she is polishing my nails, I watch the inch long, semi square nails that start just after the final joint of each finger.

“She means business, with her style!” I ponder, while I watch her perform her craft.

“Thank you; Rarity and Coco!” my sister and I exclaim, when they had finally finished their work.

“You are quite welcome, girls!” Rarity declares, matter of fact.

“She certainly does live up to her reputation and generosity!” my sister ponders.

Naturally, she had polished my left hand’s nails too; just as she had repeated the process thrice over again. She had left my nails and hooves glistering in the light and just as hard as sapphire. I should not complain, now should I? I do enjoy her work and adore the result of her effort.

There is a blue tint to my nails and hooves, from the sapphire painted over them. Other than that, I can see my hue through the polish.

While I had not noticed my nipples, as I ignore that tiny little detail; yet, they had reappeared, while my nails were being polished. There is no sign of the buttons on my back, either.

I had felt rubber coating the petals of my orchid and flow in to coat the entire orchid from the inside and out. Likewise, the rubber is also coating my anal cavity several inches beyond where I could reach, even with the aid of a plug or similar toy.

“Your suit, please put it on; before you go, girls!” Rarity is instructing us, pointing at an entirely new ensemble.

I accept the panties and step right into them, giving them a few tentative tugs; in order to make them fit, just right. Now I am picking my new skirt, repeating the process. From there, I slip the top down over my head and pull it down; feeling the comforting tightness, lent me, by the thick rubber.

“There, perfect!” Coco exclaims.

“If you want another colour, you should find them in your wardrobe!” Rarity explains.

“Thank you!” my sister and I chorus, on our way out of the room.

Between Classes: 2

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”Clip, clop! Clip, clop!” I hear the sound of my hooves squeak with each step.

While it is not long, from the room where Rarity dressed us up, but it is enough for me to enjoy the jolly noises of my hooves. Not to say, that I was not hearing the noises of my sister’s hooves. I had taken to call her my sister, when I met her on the room; just before we had been called, to see Miss Rarity herself.

“This is a curious experience, but I do enjoy it this far!” I ponder, knowing my sister is reflecting the thought.

“I guess, this would explain; why we were told, not to bring any extra clothes or other accessories!” she suggests.

“Yes, we do not need any of the clothes we would otherwise have brought with us!” I respond, giggling.

“I do not know what my parents are paying, for me to attend to Cheerilee’s school; but I think it will prove more than worth everything!” she continues.

“We are here, and have a blast, then we will learn all the things we need, for our future!” I point out.

“Rarity certainly knows, exactly how to make you look your best! Now we can enter the stage, upon which to act!” she responds.

“A mighty grand stage, you might add!” I suggest.

“I love being here, and making the world my stage; is the best way, forwards!” she offers.

Of course, this is exactly when we are reaching the door, to our room. There is a black plaque by the door; coated in rubber, shielding the door from uninvited guests. Or, is it not the purpose?

I place the palm of my right hand on the plaque, spreading my fingers wide. The door opens, and we slip in into the room.

“That was easy, but it does look like fancy security!” she points out.

“Yes, I guess you could put it that way!” I respond.

Once inside, we notice that the room had changed; there is still a bed, but not the bed we had left mere minutes before. The bed is now an eight by eight feet crystal clear rubber membrane, kept in place by a three inch thick titanium tube in a hexagonal configuration.

That is curious, I certainly did not leave the bed in this order!” she exclaims.

“No, I believe we should have recalled such a bed!” I respond, giggling at the situation.

Naturally, everything we had left behind is now gone. I could but hope; it is stored or send back to our kin and families back home.

“This does look; like plenty of fun and excitement!” she exclaims, after a moment of reflection.

“Just this one, large bed; for the two of us girls, that looks like an adventure of epic proportions!” I propose.

“An adventure, alright; now we can explore, what we could not even have been imagining before!” she responds, giggling in gleeful excitement.

"Yes, I guess we could; how about you lay back, on our bed and see how it feels?” I suggest.

“Okay, why not?” she responds, as she moves over to the bed and climb up.

I watch her, as I follow her a step behind, enjoying the looks, of my sister as she is climbing up on the three feet tall bed. She may not have a tail, but her rump is more than plump and firm enough; for me, when I am alone with her.

The sheet is a bit on the slippery side, as she is moving up and slide into place.

“Looking good!” I exclaim; in obvious excitement, licking my lips as I am ogling my sister.

“Certainly does feel good, too!” she responds, as she is lying on her back, relaxing; while she is looking up at me, where I stand by the side of our bed.

“Spread your arms wide and press your hands down; as if you were opening the door?” I suggest.

“Okay?” she responds, while the attempts to follow the suggestion; “Like this?” she then continues.

“Looks about right! If you press your fingers together, would it close the door?” I respond, as I watch her, following the instruction.

“I do not know!” she responds.

“Let me help you out!” I respond; as I climb up on the bed, after her.

“Since the bed and the plaque seems to have a connection, this should prove quite interesting!” I ponder; “Looking good, looking very good, indeed!” I mumble, as I am inspecting the right hand on the sheet of clear rubber.

“You think? Thanks!” she responds.

“One small suggestion, if you don’t mind helping you out!” I offer; as I help her spreading her legs and pull her knees up in order for her hooves to press down onto the sheet.

“If you could spread your fingers, again please; press your hooves down and press your fingers together again?” I incite her, eagerly looking forwards to the expected reaction if she did as I told her.

“Oh, okay!” she responds, as she does as I told her.

I watch her spreading her fingers, before she starts to press her hooves down; then pressing her fingers together again, firmly.

“Now, if I may?” I inquire.

“Of course!” she responds.

I grasp the right hoof and give it a tentative tug; only to find the hoof stuck in place, even despite the fact that my sister is now completely relaxed. I try to pull the left hoof up, but with exactly the same result.

“Could you lift your right and left hand, for a moment; just so I can see how this works?” I inquire.

“Let me see, let me see; no and no!” she responds, giving her right and left hand respectively a tentative tug.

“No? You can’t? Try your hooves, then?” I suggest.

“Oh, of course! No, and no; not a chance, neither my right or left hoof will budge in the least!” she responds.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” I inquire.

“Actually, yes; it is, now as you suggested it!” she responds.

“Could you try to pull your hands free, and give it your all; just to make sure, you do not just slip out by accident!” I suggest.

“Oh, okay; I guess that’s an idea, would not be fun if I just slipped out by accident!” she responds.

For a moment, I watch, as she is pulling at her right and left hands respectively, pulling harder and harder, with each attempt. Yet, with no avail; her hands staying where they are; palms down and fingers pressed tightly together. While I watch; I find myself growing wet, from the excitement induced by her actions. If it is the situation, or her action; is an open question, I could explore further, later. Yet, I still watch her in her struggle for a moment longer.

I lick my lips in excitement; not quite realizing, I am doing it.

“Excellent, just excellent!” I ponder, while I ogle my sister.

“Now, what do I do?” I ponder.

“You know, I envy you; for being in the position, and for being admired!” I admit, freely and openly; while I sit before her.

I end up, bending forwards; kissing the right hoof and licking it. I find myself, on the verge of an orgasm, right then and there. For a moment, I break off.

I bend over her left hoof, kissing it, lapping at it for a full minute, before it finally does happen.

“If you think, you will enjoy the spot; I would not mind you trying it out, for yourself!” she responds.

“I know, I know!” I giggle.

I back away, inch by inch; as she is preparing to let go. I watch her, as she is spreading her fingers and pull her hands up from the bed she is lying on top of.

She moves to the right and slip out of the bed, offering me the center stage. I accept the offer and take the place.

“For the sake of the game, would you permit me to offer you the same help, you offered me?” she inquires.

“Yes, please!” I nod in acceptance.

As I lie down on the bed, with my back firmly on the clear rubber; I feel her hands on my right and left wrist, as she helps me assuming the position.

I spread my fingers wide, opening up. I feel my hands slowly enter the membrane, in the same manner as the palm of my right hand had entered the plaque, earlier. Only this time, both my right and left hands slip in.

She spreads my lags open and pulls my knees up, making me assume the same pose I gave her earlier.

As I focus on the entering; I feel my hooves slip in as well; before my arms and body follows. At some point, half way in through the process it feels as if the membrane is flowing up and over my body and swallowing me.

Once I had entered, as far as I feel like; I press my fingers together and close firmly. It is almost, as if the membrane had turned into a suit that is covering me from my neck down. My sister can clearly see the changes in the reflections spreading out over my entire body. Even if she had neglected to let me know.

She stands before me, facing me from a foot behind the bed. Both her hooves firmly on the floor.

“I think it is time; for you to lift your right and left hands, respectively!” she points out, making the point.

Random Comedy Class, in Pink: 3

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I had enjoyed a moment alone with my new sister, in a rather intimate fashion. We had just been enjoying the fashion, lent to us by Rarity; before we returned to the room, apparently adjusted to house us at Cheerilee’s school for Peculiar Girls. Girls, just like us.

Walking down the hall is no challenge, even after Rarity imparted us with the identity, she had envisioned for us. I still do wear that one original, first skirt and top. I have not quite had the time to consider my fashion.

Every door has a plaque, just as the door to our room has one. It is, how I can open the doors to the rooms where I am permitted entrance. If I am permitted to be in the room, I can open the door; if I am not supposed to be in the room, the door will simply not open for me.

I had come to notice, how every door on campus has one of these plaques. Typically just a black surface coated with glossy rubber; with the underlying Equestrian magic operating the device hidden beneath the surface. If this is an Equestrian installation, everything here will work on the principles of how things could work there; as opposed to how it would have worked, on Earth. Nothing here is built or crafted by human hands, or thought up by human minds. At least, it is the impression I had gathered, during my still rather brief stay at the school.

I had followed the instruction, going to this class; following the description of the layout of the building. Now I stand before the door to the class, I had been signed up of.

I extend my right hand towards the door, the palm of my right hand out. As I place my hand onto the device, I spread my fingers wide, only to see the door open before me. I knew I had been expected to take the class, so it is no surprise I am permitted entrance.

“Ponies can’t use regular door-handles, even if a Unicorn probably could handle the doorknob!” I realize.

My sister is signed up to the same class, she is thus following me a step behind. Inside, the seats are lined up, in a typical horse shoe formation. I take a seat, and my sister takes the companion seat beside me.

A few pairs of girls had already taken their seats and the rest came shortly after. Each girl, curious as to what the class would be, and how the lesson is going to advance her in the future before us as peculiar girls.

Once everyone is seated, the room is quiet, dead quiet. The quiet lasts, for but a short moment; before a pink mare with tightly curled up mane steps right into the room, through a previously unseen door. As opposed to my expectation, she is walking upright in a bipedal stance like any girl I ever knew. What will become of these girls now, I have no idea. I push them out of my mind, for what is before me.

“I am Diane!” she exclaims, just an instant before she extracts a large book from within the confines of the volume that is her deep purple mane.

“The unabridged version of the complete school of Origami!” the book reads.

I can see her holding up the ultra heavy tome before me and the rest of the class, demonstrating the title. I can see a sub-title in standard English; under the Japanese title in original Kanji calligraphy.

After she had demonstrated the book, she is gripping it in the bangs of her hair. I notice; how she is picking up a sheet of pristine, white paper and folds it into an Origami, from the depths of the book before her.

There is a deep and heavy gasp, as the accomplishment hit home among the girls in the gathering.

Once she finished the first, demonstration origami; she pulls out another arch of paper, identical to the one she just used. She steps forwards, stopping in the middle of the formation; giving me, and every other girl a chance to see her work her magic, while she is crafting the next Origami.

I see her eyes following the images, demonstrating exactly how to fold the origami on the page. Step by step, she follows the instructions, folding the paper into the perfect piece of art it had originally been intended to be. She continues folding paper; leaving a fresh origami in the wake of her action. Another sheet of paper, resulting in another origami. Once, twice and thrice; another and another.

There is a crane, flying in the air, a tiger pouncing and followed by yet other forms and creatures in perfect depiction. Now she is folding Origamis in light speed, following the instructions perfectly, to the letter.

One by one, new sheets of paper appears and being turned into a new origami. Page by page, she crafts the origami from A to Z.

If she is actually reading the Kanji at all, or going by picture or even intuition is not for me to say. She works faster than even I could possibly follow or see.

“The unabridged version, of the complete Origami school? Is she intending to actually create each of these Origamis?” I ponder; knowing the others have considered exactly the same, at some point of this class.

None dares to speak, in the hopes of not missing an instant of her work. Even if the comedy lies, in the speed and position at which she is working; rather than exactly what she is doing, or why.

Page, by page; page by page page by page. She is consuming these pristine arches of white paper so fast, one’s mind boggle under the sheer effort of what she is doing. She clearly used up package by package, faster than one should even attempt, to fold a beginner’s Origami.

If the sheer amount of Origami she is putting forth is mind-boggling, then have a look at the quality she is presenting. The Master is proud of lesser works, than she is literally and
figuratively dumping onto the floor. The speed is that of an industrial machine producing user’s goods at bulk capacity.

Jaws agape, dropping left and right. The scene is in and of itself comedy.

As suddenly as she had appeared, she disappears. Origami everywhere. She had used up the book and the paper she brought with her. The class is at an end. Never stopping, never slowing down. The trademark, of this one pink pony and mare.

She had left the room and closed the door behind herself, not a trace of where she came from or where she had gone. She is simply not there, as if she had never been here, in the first place.

Yet, the piles of Origami is testimony of her entering the room. Undeniable and indisputable as Death itself. There is no escape.

Of course, she has slipped the book back where she had found it, from the void that is the volume of her mane. We had all seen it; even if one never could comprehend it, when it had just happened.

“Class dismissed!” she had cooed, in that chirp of a female voice of hers.

Everyone files out, in pairs. I had been in the group of girls filing out. From there, I walk back to my room.

“Class dismissed!” I ponder.

“What happened?” my sister inquire, as if she had been considering if any of what she had witnessed had even happened.

Between Peculiar Sisters: 4

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”That, was odd!” I exclaim.

“Indeed! and I thought I was odd, but being peculiar seems to be the expected norm here!” she responds.

Rarity is the stylist, and Diane a teacher; they are both Ponies, but how does this make us normal?” I inquire.

“Not just ponies; Rarity is a Unicorn, even if Diane may be an Anomaly?” she points out.

“Oh, yeah; that is, why she has a horn in her forehead!” I respond.

“Diane, however; does have neither horn, nor wings! What is up with her mane, though? She pulled an enormous Tome out of it and holds it in a firm grip, supported with only her mane!” she then theorize.

“A pony’s mane, is like our hair; it can hold nothing and has no support whatsoever!” I point out.

“Exactly!” she responds, giggling at the impossibility.

“How long does it take, to learn folding a simple origami?” I inquire.

“While she sported a book, as supposed support; yet, she folded every Origami designed by man, so fast I could barely see her hooves! The origami was perfect!” she points out.

“On that note, while we are at it; if she is a Pony, how could she even maintain a bipedal stance?”I inquire.

“While horse could learn to stand up, but it takes practice and painstaking exercises for years!” she responds.

“One entire hour, and just to make a point?” I suggest.

“Being peculiar, is the norm! We are here, because we are peculiar?” she mumbles.

“If Rarity and Diane are here for a reason, is being peculiar related to these Ponies in any shape or form?” I propose.

“Sounds reasonable, enough to me! Rarity uses her magic to help us dress up; while Diane use her peculiar brand of capabilities in order, to enlighten us through laughter! She seems to be taking a special pride, in making us laugh!” she responds.

“The pink mare, Diane; drove us together as a group! She also unifies us, as sisters; despite the fact, that I was the only child where I came from!” I point out.

“Is being the only child, part of being peculiar? I was alone back at home, where I came from; I had no siblings, brother or sister either! Now I have a sister, in you!” she offers, in response.

Of course, this is exactly when the two Satyrisk Origamis make themselves known; as they step out in the light, from the shadow they had been hiding behind. They had entered the room, just as we stepped in; before the door had closed, after we had entered the room.

Where does one hide, in a room with no decoration obscuring the sight? In plain sight; where you can’t see it, because it is too obvious. Of course, these are Pinkie Pie’s creations; even if she goes by the name Diane, here.

While the true, original Satyr is part Goat; these two are part Equestrian pony in the place of the Goat parts. Diane had obviously modified these for her very own and special purposes, making the point stand out to us. There is always the chance; Twilight Sparkle or Starlight Glimmer had changed them for her, with the same purpose in mind. In the end, it demonstrates a sisterly bond to us, just as it is depicting our particular brand of being peculiar.

“There is a reason, for these origami to have been modified! Are the Satyrs even part of the Japanese school of origami?” I ponder.

Of course; this brand of Satyr is distinctly split in the middle. Below the waist or belt, she is completely equine, in a bipedal stance. Above, she is completely human, aside from the equine ears, muzzle and horn. Neither of these has wings; they clearly represent the Unicorn variety of the Equestrian Equines known as Ponies. Neither the Zebra, nor the Donkey has either wings or horn. Which means the hybrids would also lack these capabilities that goes with the traits physically represented.

“Greetings, Sisters!” the two Satyrs speak in unison, as if they had been taught speech in chorus above speech as individuals.

Then again, they both greet the two of us together, as one.

“The Origamis spoke?” we ponder, as the fact hit home.

“Hello, but what do we call you?” I inquire.

“Origami!” the first respond; Or, Satyr!” continues the other; “Either is fine, by us!” they end the statement.

“Oh, thank you!” we respond, in chorus.

“It pleases us, no end; to see you sisters, getting along so well!” they proclaim.

It is a bit strange, to hear them speak as one; thought they clearly are two separate individuals. Chorus is fine; when you sing together in a choir of for an orchestra. This, is not quite either. We are conversing between four separate individuals. Even if we are peculiar.

“You have an exciting journey, of exploration before you, exploring who you are, and what it means to you to be peculiar!” the Satyrs points out.

“That certainly is exciting!” we respond.

“Then, you have experienced the first taste; of what it is to be peculiar?” they inquire.

“I do believe so!” we respond.

“You do have gifts, regular people do not have; even if this may, or may not come at a price!” they point out.

“A price?” we inquire.

“For starters, you can never quite fit in among regular, normal people; as one of them! We can only hope, the cost is worth what you get in return!” they respond.

Every time I look at the Satyrs; I find myself look down and stare at their hooves. When I see them, I feel wet, and even find myself drooling.

Even if they are technically built up, by folded arches of pristine paper; as Origami, they are people, to me. As people, I can connect to them, like them and even be excited by them and their mere presence in the room. Is it just odd, or outright peculiar?

I consider the situation, in which I had just found myself; knowing my sister is thinking the same thing, as she is pondering her situation. Peculiar situation, indeed.

Just as fast as the two Satyri Origamis had stepped into the light; they step out and are nowhere to be seen. I am left alone, with only my sister as my company. I am still left wet.

Rarity, and the Mermaid Pool: 5

.

I am resting on my bed, my back leisurely prone on the clear membrane that is my side of the bed.

“Mirm-I-Anne, I believe we have a class and I do not wish to be late!” she exclaims, as she is bursting into the room.

“Oh, yeah; Rarity is a sticker for punctuality, but I do love her classes!” I respond.

“She is indeed!” she points out.

“Let us be off!” I respond, as I am pushing myself up from the bed.

She grins at me, and I raise to my feet and follow her out of our room. My sister is such a sweet girl, I never knew I would ever see one such as her.

“Thankfully, I do not need to worry about a key, or locking the door to the room; none who is not supposed to be in the room, could possibly enter!” I ponder.

We just follow the hall, to the door behind which the class is to be held. Rarity is the teacher, for this particular class. Or, is it a peculiar class? It is confusing, but maybe both words are equally fitting in this case.

I feel the glistering black stone tiles under my feet, as I enter the room. Incidentally, the walls are covered with a chess pattern of black and mirror tiles. Curious light, dancing in the room, like frisky elves, flying in the breeze in the early spring.

Soon, I run into the sparkling feel of the mermaid pool, inhabited by Origami Mermaids of various types.

“Sorry, Mirm; but we do not have time to watch or play, we do have a class now!” my sister points out.

“Sorry, Mare-Ella” You are right, but they are just so fascinating, to watch!” I respond.

“Maybe we could watch them, after class? To your defence, they sing beautifully!” she responds.

While I can make out no individual words, or even make any sense of the sounds they make; the effect, of what one could only refer to as song is mesmerizing to breathtaking, indeed.

What I hear, is no mere sound of paper rustling and bustling in the air of a breeze. It is, as if they were indeed singing; in the style of the Sirens, calling mariners to a watery and premature death.

“Could Diane have recreated the true magic of the Sirens, even if unintentionally, on her part?” I ponder, as I follow my sister to the next door.

I dare not giving voice to the suspicion of what could have been before me, lest it is or becomes true out of my spoken words.

Seeing Diane crafting the likes of these, before my very eyes; strikes are and wonder into the heart and soul of even a peculiar girl, like me. The book does not lessen the impact, it is merely applying the light onto the image before my very eyes.

As opposed to Diane’s class; Rarity’s class is individual. There are no other girls in the room, and none is forthcoming any time soon.

“Welcome to my class, girls; I am Rarity, and I am hosting this class.

I am instantly taken aback, by her pristine, pure, silicon white coat of fur. Her blue eyes are fixing on me and my sister. Of course, she was addressing the two of us, alone. She desire a more private, intimate setting; for what she has in mind, for the two of us.

“Greetings, Rarity!” we respond, in chorus.

From the setting of your class; this feels more like a business meeting, or a private audience in the purpose of offering a fashionable ensemble?” I add.

“In a sense, you are a business! Though, I guess the offered ensemble is closer to what you are looking for!” she points out, in response.

“Since it is you, who are offering; I take it, this will be something very personal and individual, for a pair of peculiar girls like us!” I suggest.

“This is Cheerilee’s school for peculiar girls, so you are bound to be special!” Rarity points out.

“Cheerilee’s school is a very special place to be, and if you are caring for the details of what we wear; then it is bound to be spectacular, and peculiar on the side!” I offer.

“How could I possibly live with myself, if I permitted you two girls to walk out wearing anything less than fabulous?” she exclaims.

“For you, it just has to be peculiar; or, it would simply not work”” she adds, almost like an afterthought.

“That is why you are here, helping us to dress up our very best!” Mare suggests.

“Yes, and in order for you to dress up; you need to slip out of what you wear now, behind the screen!” she points out.

“Oh, yeah!” I ponder, as I walk over to one of the screens.

My sister, Mare hides behind the other one, on the left.

As I undress; I can see the vaguest of outlines of her body, on the other side of the screen. Naturally, she could see me, in the same perspective. I leave my top and skirt on a hanger, with the panties on the second hanger.

“Curious, what is she going to offer me, to wear?” I ponder.

Once I am once more completely nude, I notice her hoof pushing a pair of tights through the screen. Of course, there is also a new top.

“Brand new, as if she had just made them for me!” I ponder.

“What if they were actually this new?” I realize.

These garments; both the tights, and the top are crafted from the same material as all the other garments she had crafted for us. She seems to make a deal, out of keeping the style as close as possible; while still making each and every garment intimately individual. How much effort had she been putting into this? Of course, I may never know.

I lift my right foot, slipping it into the top of the tights she had just offered me. I push the foot down, progressively further and further down; until the foot reaches the end and I feel the end of the smooth rubber, hitting the tips of my toes.

I pull up the top of the tights to my knee as I place the foot down, firmly on the floor; lifting my left foot and slipping it into the top of the tights. I feel the material contract around my skin and eagerly slide all the way. It is almost, as if I could not have stopped it; once I had slipped the foot in, pulling the top of the tights up. I find myself pulling the tights up over my thighs, hips and over my waist, before I feel the snug material stretch and pull back.

I set down my left foot, before I give the tights a few tentative tugs; feeling the material find its place, as tight as it may be. Only then, the sensation of the rubber fades away, to the point I can’t say I am even feeling it.

I pick up the top, slipping it down over my head and pulling my arms through. Just as the tights; the top is tight and slips on as if on its very own accord.

I look down, only to see my feet; as if I had been stark naked, each and every detail enhanced, all according to the design of Miss Rarity.

“Step right out, so I can see how you look!” she promptly exclaims.

Of course, she had seen just enough of us; to know when we had finished dressing up, without actually seeing any details of us.

“How does it feel?” she then inquires.

“Surprisingly tight, at first! Now, I just feel a bit light!” I respond, and my sister echoes my response a mere moment later.

“Good! It is intentional!” she explains.

“Intentional? How could a pair of tights make me feel lighter, than before?” I ponder.

“Buoyancy!” Rarity explains, as if she had known what I had been thinking.

“Explain, please!” my sister responds.

“You did see the Mermaid Origami, in the pool outside? These are mermaid tights and tops, you are wearing!” she points out.

“Yes, we could not help but noticing the mermaid Origami in the pool outside your classroom!” I respond.

“I take it, you heard them sing!” Rarity points out.

“Yes, we did!” my sister responds.

“You could hear them sing, but not what they are saying? Peculiar? You are peculiar, and you are Mermaids!” Rarity offers.

“Could I have a pair of matching gloves, just to see how it would feel?” I inquire.

“These leafy green gloves, should be just right for you!” Rarity points out, as she is levitating the gloves towards me.

I stretch out my hands and the gloves slide right on. I feel the initial tightness spreading from my hands and all the way up my arms. As the gloves reach my shoulders, the gloves are coating my skin perfectly.

“There, how does that feel?” she inquires.

“Perfect, as if this could have been me all along!” I respond.

“Now, my dear mermaids; if you would focus, swim around the room, please!” Rarity is instructing us.

Before I even knew it, my legs are fusing into a beautiful Mermaid’s tail. My gloves changes into what looks like a Pony’s hooves, just that they had been modified for an under-water Pony.

“I am; a Hipocampus!” I just realize, without knowing where the name even came from.

Swimming around the room is easy, even if there is technically no water in the room. Maybe, not this is part of being Peculiar. I am peculiar, and this is who and what I am.

It never entered my mind; that I could have problems, opening the door to our room, now as I have hooves in place of my hands. Then again, this proved to be no problem. No problem, at all.

“Thank you, Rarity!” I exclaim.

“You are quite welcome, my dear; it was a pleasure, on my part!” she responds.

On second though, I believe her; she is Rarity, and the most generous person I have ever seen. Had it been any other, I would have doubted the sincerity.

On my way out, I place my right fore-hoof on the plaque, opening the door, as if I had had the hands I had been born with. The process works, just as it had before. What had I been worrying about, this is for peculiar girls. Just like me.

As I swim out, the room is quiet, but as I close the door; the voices are back in full force. They are indeed, singing. I can hear them, I hear what they say. I just can not put a finger on what they say, so I can’t explain.

Origami are Japanese in origin, maybe this is why I can never quite grasp enough to explain?