~Nottingham, England~

Although it probably wasn’t as long as it seemed, Clive felt like he stood there for several long minutes, simply staring as the strange, multicoloured warp in the air closed with a flicker of light and the sound of displaced air rushing back into a sudden vacuum.

He lifted the bottle of beer slowly and peered at it. Was it possible that the hops or yeast had gone bad? Visions of ergot poisoning ran through his mind, and he gulped, thinking about tossing the bottle and going to the emergency room, when a sound from the bushes caught his attention. Holding the bottle as though prepared to throw it and run, he moved cautiously towards the rustling bushes.

As he grew closer, he stopped, clearing his throat, and cocked back his arm, ready to throw the bottle. “Who iii-” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat again, sharper. “Wh-who’s there?! I’m armed!” He said, wishing he sounded a bit less pre-pubescent in that moment.

The rustling stopped.

He leaned back, his breathing quickening.

And then the bushes parted a pink head shot out, blue eyes glaring at him. No, not pink as in dyed hair or some such. The whole head was pink. . . and elongated. With tall, pointed ears. It looked . . . vaguely like a horse, but more streamlined, a bit more soft and expressive.

Then it opened it’s mouth and spoke in an American accent.

“The fuck did you just say to me?”

Clive blinked.

The pink horse blinked.

“Wait . . . Did I just say ‘fuck’? Holy shit, I just said ‘fuck’! And ‘shit’!” The bushes erupted as the figure leaped up, landing with only a slight wobble on two large hooves and spread her arms, a malicious looking grin stretching her face. Clive only barely noticed this, however, as his eyes fell down to her very, very naked body. A pair of bouncy breasts, probably d-cups, judging by his very limited experience, with darker, rosier coloured areolas and nips, and below that a slightly pudgy stomach and below that, the obvious cleft of a vagina between her thighs.

He snapped his head up, blanching as she grabbed him by the arms, leering at him. “Where the fuck am I? Is this heaven?” She asked, a gleefully deranged look on her face.

“Uhh, n-no . . . it’s Clifton. . . . “ Clive uttered, his brain completely blank.

“Where? Wait . . . That accent . . . “ She stepped back, a frown clouding her features. “Really? Really?! Of all the fucking places your fucking spell can send me, Twilight, it sends me to fucking Britain?! Land of rain, shitty food, rain, dumbass fucking politicians and more fucking rain?! Fuck!”

“Hey!” Clive said, feeling slightly offended, and she whirled on him, blue eyes locking onto his and he gulped, leaning back.

“You got something to say, fucktard?”

“Well, er . . . our food isn’t really that bad. . . . “

“Pfft, yeah right.” She looked at the bottle of beer in his hand and cocked an eyebrow. “Armed, huh? What were you gonna do, drink me to death?” She said, stepping forward and snatching the bottle out of his hand. She chugged it in one go, tossing the bottle over the fence and belched. “Oh, fuck yeah! Real . . . really real alcohol and, hang on a sec. . . . “

She began to run her hands over her body, then lifted them and looked at her fingers as though shocked. Back to her body, her hands cupped and squeezed her tits, and then slid down between her legs and she froze.

“Ya know what, fuck it. Britain or not, I’m fucking ecstatic!” She leaped into the air, pumping her fist, making her breasts do some . . . rather interesting gymnastics. “I’m not a fucking Barbie doll anymore! Yes!”

As she did her little dance, he noticed something that his shock addled brain took as being important, and image, like a tattoo but not, imprinted in the short fur of her thighs, mirrored on either side. A trio of balloons, two blue and one yellow. For some odd reason the word ‘cute’ popped into his head and his mouth moving as she shook her hips, her tail flicking back and forth in time.

“What are you?”

She turned and cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m a pony, duh. Or, well . . I guess I was. Now I’m more of an anime nerd’s wet dream, ain’t I?” She looked at him and lifted an eyebrow. “Speaking of, keep your dick in your pants, there, bub.”
She pointed, and he blushed vibrantly, noticing the increasingly insistent bulge in his trousers.

“Oh! Oh, god no! I wouldn’t . . . I mean, I’m not-”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie, you weirdo, you’re boner’s already sold you out! Seriously, don’t break that fuckin’ thing out unless you want it cut off.”

He gulped, leaning back and put a hand to his head. “I-I’m sorry, did you . . . did you say you were a pony?”

“Yeah, what of it?”

“Like . . . As in, ‘My Little Pony’?”

She stepped into his personal space showing that she was actually quite small, probably only about 5’3” or so. Still, her glare was quite intimidating and once again Clive found himself backpedaling away from her. “What the fuck do you know about it?”

“Nothing! I mean . . . my friend . . . flatmate . . . he’s a fan of the show . . . . “

“Oh, is he? Fuck, I shoulda known. Of course little miss Twily’s special fuckin’ spell would plop me down in the backyard of a couple of homo fucking bronies!”

“Oh, we-we aren’t gay!”

“Sure you ain’t.”

“And I don’t like the show. Personally I don’t see what he sees in such childish nonse-”

Her face was suddenly inches away from his again, an eyebrow quirked. “Think really, really hard . . . do you wanna finish that sentence?”

He stared at her for a second, backing up until his back ran into the door of the house. “Um. No.”

“Good. Okay, you know what, this is fuckin’ lovely, but it’s fucking freezing out here and I’d like to eat something, so how about you take me into the house, hm?”

“Wait-Wha-in there?!” He asked, stammering in a panic.

“Uh, yeah. I’m gonna need someplace to stay, and your house looks as good as any other.”

“Uh, well, it’s not really mine . . . “

“The fuck does that mean?”

“I’m renting it, Ms. Ferris, if she saw you-”

“Ms. Ferris? What’s her first name, Beulah?” She asked with a snort and he frowned for a moment, before the pun set in.

“Oh . . .really?”

“What? I love the eighties!”

Well, whatever you can’t- Hey, wait!” He exclaimed . . . softly, as she pushed past him and went through the door. She stopped inside and frowned, looking around as he slipped in behind her and shut the door, as softly as he could manage. While she looked around the kitchen, he headed over to the door into the hall, looking around as surreptitiously as possible.

He didn’t see or hear anything to suggest that anyone had woken up, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then he heard the refrigerator open, and turned to be greeted by the roundest, nicest ass he had ever seen outside of porn. So what if there’s a tail over it?, a small voice in his head whispered, and he shuddered and promptly locked that voice up and threw away the key.

Carefully ignoring the pink buttocks in front of him, he took stock of the situation, idly pondering when he became so easily distracted. Probably about the time that an impossibility stepped out of the bushes.

The pony was bent over with her head and arms in the refrigerator, digging around. As he watched, she stood up and turned, clutchign a bottle of beer and a cold slice of pizza in her hand. She took a bite out of the slice and nearly melted right there.

“Um . . . I should point out, that has meat on it.” He said, holding up a finger.

She paused in her chewing, looking at him, then down at the pizza, then back up at him, before shrugging and swallowing. “Fuck it, ya only live once.” She said, and proceeded to pop the cap off the beer bottle with her teeth.

He shook his head, stepping back out into the dining nook and collapsed into a chair at the table, putting his head in his hands. He sat there, trying to get his brain functioning again, trying to figure out if this was real or in his head, and what it meant if it was real.

He looked up as a plate hit the table in front of him, two slices of pizza on it, followed by a beer bottle. He glanced up as she sat down opposite him, her own plate and bottle accompanying her.

“You look confused, uncertain. Worried. Which only makes fuckin’ sense, if ya think about it. So, cold pizza and beer, seems like fucking ambrosia. Eat up.” She said, winking with a grin and took a big bite out of her pizza.

He looked down at the plate in front of him and shook his head, picking up a slice and taking a bite out of it. He chewed and swallowed, and took another bite. “How did you get here?” He asked as he chewed.

She swallowed a drink of beer and shrugged. “Long story short, purple unicorn casts a spell to send me ‘someplace I’ll feel at home’, next thing I know, I fall into your fucking bushes.”

He took a drink of the beet and sat back in the chair. “Spell? Magic doesn’t exist.” He said, and shelowered the piece of pizza she was about to take a bite out of and cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Ahem. Pink pony with a magical tramp stamp over here.”

“. . . . . Right. What is that, by the way?” He asked, gesturing uncomfortably at the mark on her thigh.

“Cutie mark. Ponies get one when they discover what they’re supposed to do with their life, what their calling is.” She looked down at it and a shadow passed over her face. “Thing is . . . this one isn’t mine.”

He frowned, shaking his head as he tried to ignore all the scientific facts rushing through his brain, arguing that this was nonsense, and instead focused on the situation at hand. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, taking another drink of her beet. “Eh, long story. Also, someone just came down the stairs.”

Clive nearly choked on his pizza and stood up too fast, nearly knocking over his chair. He whirled in time to see Graham step into the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

“Oh, hey, Clive . . . I just needed a drink . . . of . . . “ He slowly came a stop blinking and leaning to look around Clive. “What’s . . . That?” He said, blinking.

“Errrr.”

“This the brony, then?” She said, and Clive turned with a flinch as she stood up, putting her hands on her hips.

Graham took one good look, from eartip to hoof. “It’s . . . . You’re . . . . Wha?” His eyes rolled up into his head and he fell, hard, to the floor with a loud wham.

“Oh, fuck!” Clive exclaimed, softly, kneeling to check on him, before turning at the sound of laughter. The pony had her hands over her mouth, barely containing the giggles that were racking her body. “That’s not-” A sudden sound from down the hall make him freeze in a panic. “Oh, shit! Ms. Ferris!”

He started pushing and tugging on Graham’s unconscious weight, trying to get it out of view. The pony stood, grinning maliciously as she watched.

“Help me!” Clive begged. “It won’t go well if Ms. Ferris finds you! It could start a panic!”

“Sounds like a party.”

“The government would come for you! They’d want to experiment on-”

“I said I liked the eighties, not that I bought all the bullshit from eighties’ movies.”

“Goddamnit, would you just fucking help me!”

She paused, looking at him as the sound of the door at the end of the hall clicking open echoed through the dark.

Clive looked down that hall, towards his onrushing doom, the blood pounding in his ears blocking out most other sounds as Ms. Ferris stepped out into the hall and looked at him.

“Clive? What was that noise?”

“Oh, Ms. Ferris! I, this-” He looked down and blinked. Graham was gone. He looked sideways into the dining nook and saw the pony kneeling beside him, seeming to check something out, her hands on his head. She looked up at him, and made a ‘get on with it’ gesture with one hand.

He snapped his head back around and gave a stiff smile, hoping she wouldn’t be able to see in the dark, as he stood up. “Sorry, Ms. Ferris, I just, uh . . . I knocked over a chair in the dark. Everything’s fine.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Are you sure, Clive?” She asked, coming down the hall.

“Yeah, yeah, no, everything’s fine, Ms. Ferris! Sorry, I just . . . I needed something to eat before bed, and it was dark . . . “

She stopped a few feet away, leaving Clive very aware of the potentially heart attack inducing sight just around the corner. She was old, after all. She looked him in the eye and sighed. “You need to apologize to Graham, Clive. That was very mean, what you said to him.”

And, there it was again. Lost in the haze of all that had happened, all the guilt and anger from earlier in the night came back on him. He felt himself sag against the frame of the dining nook door. “I know, Ms. Ferris. I know. I shouldn’t’ve . . . I know. It’s just . . . I don’t . . . “ He felt his throat get tight and he turned, clearing it roughly. She laid her hand on his arm and he turned to look at her.

She gave him a soft, sad smile. “Sometimes, you need to stop worrying so much about getting somewhere, Clive, and pay attention to where you are.” She said, then leaned up and gave him a motherly peck on the cheek, before stepping back. “You apologize to him, tomorrow, Clive. Sleep well, love!” She said, with a smile, and turned and headed back to bed.

Clive stood, staring after her, wondering at her words, even after she had shut the door. He was snapped out of his reverie by the pony’s voice coming from right next to him.

“Well, ain’t she full of sweetness and wisdom. But, uh, don’t you think we should get fat boy here out of the kitchen, before it dawns on her that sound was a bit too . . . hefty to be a chair?”

Clive jumped, putting his hand to his suddenly racing heart, but then nodded, and walked into the dining nook. “Is he . . . “

“He’s fine. Might have a bit of a headache when he wakes up, but that’s all.”

“How did you get him in here, so fast.”

“Earth Pony.” She said, which only confused him more.

She looked at him and shook her head. “Quick explanation?” She said, then bent down, got her arms under Graham’s figure and lifted, with only a bit of strain, and was soon carrying him bridal style. She cocked an eyebrow at him as he stared with slack jawed incomprehension.

“H-How?”

She smirked and pushed past him. “Magic.” She said, and, shaking his head to try and clear it of the fog of shock that just would not let up, Clive fell in to step behind her as she made her way down the hall and up the stairs.

As they reached the top of the stairs, she used Graham’s head to push open the door which he had left to close on it’s own, and stepped inside. She immediately snorted, first looking at Graham’s bed, then at Clive’s. “I am so sorry. I called you an anime nerd, but now I can see that wasn’t right at all, was it?” She said, looking at ALL the sci-fi memorabilia everywhere.

She walked over to Graham’s bed and rather unceremoniously dumped him into it. She paused for a second, looking at some of the plushies he had, and then turned, shaking her head and muttering under her breath.

Clive had collapsed into the couch after shutting and locking the door. He sat, staring blankly at the television mirror black screen as she walked over and looked at the stuff around his bed. The sound of her clearing her throat made him look over at her, and cocked an eyebrow, pointing her thumb at a pair of posters that were almost side-by-side. One was the cover art for A New Hope, while the other was a collage of stuff from Star Trek: The Next Generation.

“Is this sort of thing allowed?” She asked, smirking.

He shrugged. “It’s the post-closet nerd age. It’s okay to like both.”

She stared at him for a minute, blankly. “Blasphemy and lies.”

“Whatever.” He said, turning back to look at the TV. She walked over and flopped down on the couch next to him, and he tried very hard to once again remind his libido that she was a freakish hybrid horse-creature that may or may not be real, and the fact that she was completely naked, and had lovely firm tits should not even factor into it.

He met with mixed results.

“So, what the fuck is your problem, anyway?” She asked, and he looked up at her.

“What?”

“What the fuck is your problem? Isn’t this sort of thing, like, the holy grail to nerds like you? Have a creature from another universe plopped into your house. . . one with awesome tits, I might add. Isn’t that like your fucking wet dream?”

He shook his head. “No, not really. I want to go to space, see the stars, that was always my dream. I don’t fucking believe in the multiverse! It’s a load of horseshit! Er, no offence.”

“None taken. Well, I guess you kinda fuckin’ have to believe in it, now, don’t ya?”

“No, I’m still not convinced any of this is fucking real! I could be passed out in a gutter, having a psychotic break . . . fuck knows I’ve been under enough stress lately.”

“Hey, I know a thing or two about psychotic breaks and . . . yeah, yeah, this could be one. It isn’t, but it could be.”

“Which is exactly what I would expect a psychotic break to say!”

“Really?”

“Well, no, but . . . look, this is crazy! You . . . can’t be real!” He said, nearly in tears.

“Why not?”

He blinked, looking up at her. “Because it isn’t possible!”

She nodded slowly, looking him in the eye. “Why not?”

“B-Because . . . Wha. . . Look, the very idea that there could be other universes out there created by our imaginations is preposterous!”

“Why?”

“Oh, fuck! You’re being deliberately fucking annoying, aren’t you?!”

“Of course I am, dipshit! It’s kinda who I am.”

“I thought his ponies are supposed to be all smiles and happy-happy joy-joy.”

“His are. . . . Which is why I am here. They couldn’t handle me, so they zapped me with a spell. Well, I suppose in full fairness, it should also be pointed out that my ‘verse isn’t exactly the same as the one he watches in the show, but it was close. Had the same cast, same feeling, even the same rules. Fuckin’ Y7 rating.”

Clive shook his head. “Oh, fuck me, this is ridiculous.”

“Okay, look . . . what’s your name?”

He looked up at her and sighed, leaning back in the sofa. “Clive King.” He said, holding out his hand on instinct, and she took it in hers. Warm, soft, the brush of smooth fur, and then she shook his hand.

“Call me Mena.” She said, taking her hand back and leaving him thinking that it had felt . . . very, very real.

“Mena?”

“Yeah. That’s what the fuck I said.”

“Sorry.” He said, holding up his hands.

She waved it off. “Forget about it. Look. Science says that everything you experience, everything you see, taste, touch . . . the reason you know I’m pink, my hand was warm, and I smell like cotton candy, is electrical signals firing in your brain, telling you what’s what, right?”

He hadn’t actually noticed her smell before, but once she mentioned it, he couldn’t ignore it. It smelled good. He cleared his throat, shaking himself out of it, and nodded. “Yeah, I mean, yes, yes, that’s basically correct.”

“Right. So, then, everything you experience, everything that is around you right now, is a product of your perception, right? It exists in it’s current form, because you perceive it to exist in that form, right?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Shut up, and let me finish. Now, who’s to say that if you changed the way you perceived the world, that it would not change for you? Who’s to say what is and isn’t real, right? You could open a fucking portal back to Equestria, or to the bridge of the Enterprise, or on to fuckin’ Naboo, right now, if you could just open your mind enough to the fact that you can. That’s the real secret of the universe: The only thing keeping you from doing whatever the fuck you want, is your own sad little mind.”

He sat for a long, silent moment, staring at her, then took a breath. “Well, that was unnecessarily insulting, and I’m afraid you over-simplified your science.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Look, I explained it to you as best as it can be explained. Do you honestly fucking believe that you can just . . . explain the universe?!”

“Yes.”

She stared at him for a long, silent moment, then nodded. “Right. You, sir, are a very sad individual, with that kind of thinking. Where am I sleeping, then?”

The sudden change of subject left him blinking. “What?”

“Well I ain’t climbing in to bed with your sad little ass, if that’s what the fuck you were thinking. And I damn sure ain’t with that lardass. He’d probably roll over on me and kill me in my sleep.”

He blinked again and then shook his head, standing up and, with a few simple movements, folded teh sofa out into it’s bed form. She blinked, then gave him a thumbs up. “Fuckin’ sweet.”

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll get you a blanket, and some clothes of some sort. If you’re going to stay here, you have to be dressed.”

“Why? Afraid of walking around with a boner all the time?”

“Fuck off.” He said, shaking his head as she laughed, and he turned and went to find her a blanket and some of his old gym clothes, back when he actually went to the gym.

A little while later, she was snoring softly from the futon, and he was laying in bed, staring at the light of the moon shining in through the window behind the telly. Could it be true? Could the whole universe really be that simple? Was it all just . . . made up? Created by someone’s mind? Fuck, that was frighteningly close to religion. It couldn’t be. . . And yet, there she was, something straight out of someone’s imagination, laying, asleep on their couch. The more time that had passed, the more it had become real to him that, whether he liked it or not, she was actually there. He didn’t know how to take that fact, or what it meant about him, and the world he lived in. Was he even real? Or was he just the product of someone else’s warped imagination?

No, that was just silly. His last thought before exhaustion claimed him, was that he was glad he was off work tomorrow. It was going to be a crazy day.

Author's Note

So, I forgot that I had this chapter completed, so, yeah. . . . Story is still on hiatus, but I thought I’d give you this.