Pony Addiction

“Hi,” greeted pony wearing a gas mask and what looked like a rubber gimp suit.

“Hi,” I greeted back looking around the lobby of the zoo. It had a cold, sterile feel to it. The ample seating was empty and the plants looked plastic.

“So...?” I could feel her looking at me quizzically through the tinted lenses.

“I'm new.” I leaned on the counter and reached for my wallet for some identification.

“Step back from the counter!” she shrieked in panic. I could taste her victim-hood.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” I took a good long step back.

“Here, take these pamphlets and look them over. Over there.” She pointed to the seating in the far end of the room. “I'll have somepony down to take your registration in a few minutes.”

“Gotcha.” The top pamphlet was titled 'Hoof-rot and you' and had some rather distressing medical pictures on the cover.

“Remember, stay at least one pony length away from anypony.”

“Okay.”

“And no touching.”

“Got it.”

“Just be good for a little while okay? Can you do that?”

“Of course.” She wanted me to assure her I wouldn't leap over the counter and rape her. Without acknowledging the fact I now had that mental image in my head.

I wasn't sure how to do that, so I just went over to the far corner she had pointed me to.

Hoof-rot was apparently a sexually transmitted disease that could work it's way between humans and ponies. It didn't look pretty, but it wasn't fatal.

The next pamphlet was about the importance of controlling violent tendencies and how humans where expected to be on their best behaviour regardless of circumstances. It included pictures of holding cells that looked a lot more pleasant then most drunk tanks I had been in.

The third pamphlet was the largest and probably the most important. Apparently the crazy pheromone thing only kicked in if a human and a pony could smell each other or come into physical contact. Humans where advised to wear gloves and full covering clothes.

It was also apparently illegal for a human to intentionally touch a pony without invitation.

And vice-verse.

That stealthy pony that had gotten her head under my hand when I was distracted. That had been a little...

That soft ear, luxurious to the touch. Fur against my skin. My heart filled at long last. How easy it had been to have something that wonderful.

Damn it. I was trembling.

It hadn't been easy for me. It had been easy for her.

What difference does that make? It was wonderful.

She laughed.

Maybe the next one won't.

Yeah, you tell yourself that.

Here I am, dragged into a different world, on the greatest adventure possible for an inquisitive monkey such as is man, and I'm bogged down in such ridiculous and meaningless concerns like what counts as proper consent for a bout of inter-species mating.

You where raped within hours of coming to an alien world.

Shut up. Whatever. It's fine. I'm fine.

No, you're not. You haven't been for a long time.

“Hello,” a sweet voice interrupted my spiral into despair. It was another pony. She had a white lab-coat on and a somewhat smaller gas mask that fit over just her muzzle. Her coat was green.

“H-hi,” my voice cracked.

“I'm here to take your information and then we can see about getting you settled in. I see you brought luggage. Most humans aren't so fortunate.”

“I imagine not.”

“May I ask what is in it?”

“Oh, of course... A change of clothes, bedroll, small first aid kit, sewing kit, thermos with some coffee (cold)... Please tell me you have coffee here?”

“And tea.”

“That's wonderful. ...a novel (fiction), my binder, a diary and an assortment of pens and pencils. Also dice.”

“Your pockets?”

“Ah, two lighters, tobacco, rolling papers and my wallet. Nothing in it, just my ID.”

“You smoke?”

“Yes... Do you have tobacco?”

“No, but we can supply a substitute. The majority of users admit to preferring the it over the original.”

“Neat.” Like tobacco but better? I love smoking. This was going to be hard.

“Do you regularly take any other drugs?”

“Curiously not. I don't even drink all that much.” No one ever believed me when I said that.

“You mean alcohol?”

“Yup.”

“You can do without it?”

“Entirely,” I only used alcohol for chatting up women and I wasn't going to have to do that here. Why would I after all with all the...?

God damn it. When did I decide I was going to be doing that? This wasn't good.

The majority of users admit to preferring the substitute over the original.

Shut up. Fuck you. We aren't doing that.

“Sir, are you lying?” she broke into my inner dialogue with a poignant question.

“No,” I was suddenly on the defensive.

“My question seemed to upset you.”

“It was unrelated.”

“Are you sure?” she persisted

“Wholly.”

“Any disease?”

“A mild lung infection.”

“Your previous area of employment?” She moved onto the hard questions.

“uhm... Clerk.” I had clerk experience. I just hadn't used it in years.

“Like records keeping?”

“Like store clerk, handling cash and working the register.”

“And what do you like to be called?”

“Call me John.”

“You can call me Enlighten.”

“Nice to meet you.” I reached forward to shake her hand only to pull it back in alarm.

“Alright, that should be everything.” She didn't want my last name? “Come, lets go get you settled in. Just remember to stay out of 'arms reach' okay?”

“Right.” I stood up and moved to follow her.

“Oh, one more thing, are you a vegetarian?”

“No.”

“Can you learn?”

A civilization built by equines. Of course. “I suppose so.”

* * *

A shower and an rather good apple pie latter I was feeling much better.

Dressed in what amounted to a loose white body sock and sitting on a bed in my new room I was sucking on a medicinal lolipop.

The candy like thing actually did hit the spot. It cleared up the nicotine withdrawal head-ache and gave me that mentally sharpened sensation.

Now I could finally catch up on all that sleep I had been missing.

I checked my watch. I had taken the opportunity to adjust it to local time.

I still had just over an hour before curfew if I wanted to go grab some pony.

That's what I had over heard the other humans here calling it.

Grabbing some pony.

The image of poor creature at the greeting desk recoiling in terror sprang to mind.

Sleep sounded good.