Author's Note

Oof, this took longer than expected. Really need to get off my ass and write more, even when I’m not feeling up to it. Writer’s block is some bad stuff.

What’s in a name?

Using the power of deduction to put two and two together, you couldn’t figure out which was worse: tripping with Discord or the shower you currently stood in. The events of the day continued to become even stranger as the evening lingered about. Here you sat, in the shower letting your mind wander with the pitter-patter of synthetic rain battered your skin, savoring the warmth and chill that you could only get by bathing. You longed for there to be a way of bottling the feeling of success that bathing gives, for if you could bottle life’s simple pleasures what reason would you have for wanting?

But that’s neither here nor there. Truth be told, the down right dirtiest and bizarre events of today had to be the shower. You turned your head towards the open door agape with the horny mouth of lustful filly you.

“Fuck off, You. I don’t need any more disturbances today, let alone myself,” you spoke with a bite. “Bad enough I already have to have more digits to the voices.”

“Come on now, can you blame a girl for wanting at that body? Isn’t much my fault when you don’t lock the door to thBrVTTtT-” Estra starts, but is rudely met by the door and your bar of soap.

“OUT!”

Estra snorts annoyed and angrily, stomping away from the door and returning you once again to the sound of the drain. Sweet peace. Eventually, the good things have to end and you bid the rest of your strain. Renewed, you wrapped yourself in a towel and exited back to your bedroom, where all four girls sat about in various places. Drunk you laid lazily across your blankets, courtesy of yourself.

Next to Drunkard sat Mime, or what the jokester you asked to be called, and without even leaning up from your phone “So, what are we going to do about plastered right here? There’s no telling what she done fucked with while we were here. And that’s giving her a discount to all the fucked up things I have thought up in the past ten seconds.”

“I say we lock her in the basement like a cruel mistress and give her the bare essentials of survival, each taking turns giving her a HARD time and teasing every bit of information she has,” the Lusty Filly suggested, blushing mildly at the idea of being a dominatrix. Everyone else, including you, looked upon her like she was insane, which in all honesty would make sense. “What, too much?”

You deadpanned, not even giving Estra a smirk. As much as you liked sex jokes, hearing a little girl talk about what is essentially yourself in such a way unnerved you. You still hadn’t figured out if the girls were actual fillies or just dwarves, since they were about the same size as young teenage foals, maybe fifteen at the maximum. You hoped to god they were physically eighteen and not underage in case horny-horse tried to sex some poor stallion.

You tossed around ideas in your head on ways of prying info from drunk’s mind, each one worse than the last. None of the other girls helped either, each verbalizing what amounted to slavery or kidnapping, neither of which sounded good in the long haul. For crying out loud, you had more than two heads at the moment and each seemed more concerned with sticking themselves up their own rears rather than help you. MJ had left to finish raiding the last bit of food from the confines of your kitchen, as well as relieving you of your ‘oregano’. Mime lost interest mid sentence and refocused her attention on your phone.

You wanted to speak up to the brats for both wasting your time and being too scatterbrained to notice cute you steaming up herself, scrunching her snout up like the pones do. Before you could even point at the boiler about to blow, Cutey bleated out expletives unbefitting of a child, shocking the idiots in the room into order, if for but a second long enough to get a word across.

The filly grumbled with intensity that rivaled your own. “Are you serious? Can you jerk-offs quit your squabbling and squirelling for more than five seconds, or are you doofs so unobservant and idiotic that you can’t see the drunk us is inching her way to the door?” She then pointed at said pony, who sat in the middle of the doorway.

Whiskey midget continued to struggle along like an inchworm, straining her forelimbs to just barely touch the bottom of the doorknob. The carpet seemed to hold her down, along with the hangover pulsating in her lower half. Her grunts resounded throughout the room while you and the others sat snickering at the sight. “Stupid fockin’ cunts, I just wanna drink me fill of water! Can’t any of you arses see me strugglin!?”

Christ, was it funny to see someone have a hard time. It was one of the main reasons you were such a jerk to the Ponyvillians, though your experience with the many denizens in Equestria proved that you weren’t alone. Except for the fact that for Equestrians, ‘being a jerk’ consisted mostly of constant pranks and less foul language and degeneracy. Aside from the remarks you received for your behavior, everyone still put up with you, albeit in their own unique way. Not that it mattered to you. You were used to the sting in your chest whenever someone glared at you or whispered within earshot.

Mostly…

Anywho, Drunky continued her almost fruitless endeavour in trying to reach the door handle, barely managing to stand back up on her own hooves for long enough to grasp the side of the knob with her little hoof frog.

“Took them long enough. I was starting to think she’d never manage to recover. I’m actually surprised that she’s not in the hospital from all that drinking. Apple liqueur is a tad stronger than the usual stuff back home on Earth,” Cutes said as said filly headed out to the bathroom.

Still looking at the phone, Mime spoke up while snickering. “Damn straight, darling. I don’t think any of us could forget the first night. Hoof Cloppers’ still has a plaque in our corner of his bar. Couldn’t stop tasting apple schnapps for a week.”

Mary Jane hopped down off your bed and meandered over to the door, flicking her tail up and wrapping it around the small stoner satchel that hung from the knob and whipping it over her head. It draped itself loosely around her neck, swaying side to side as it settled. She gave you each a look of complete douche-itude and walked away, not even bothering to watch where she
was going. It was so amazing that the group could only respond with cheers and amazement.

It was so amazing that you almost forgot to be angry over MJ for not saying anything and waltzing out with your VERY expensive and limited supply. You’d punish her later though.

You took the fillies being distracted by MJ’s disappearance as the chance for ol’ original to talk with drunk one on one. Better that you hear what things she may have done and lie to the girls. You didn’t think the combined pride of the group could take any more blows than it usually did. Weaving your way through the single corridor that stretch through the house, past the sound studio, bathroom, and stairwell, and into the bathroom doorway.

Drunk you lay sprawled out on the tile floor of the shower, cold water dripping over her back and down her tail. She almost seemed at peace, icy needles moving from within the water and into her shot nerves and kidneys, like a hydro-acupuncture. Not that you could really see her face, with her mane unfurling from tight curls and into a cute cosplay wig of certain horror movie girl, who may not also come from a ring. You had to wonder how comfortable it was to lay like that in the shower, given her size relative to your was small enough to do that and not feel cramped.

You decided to break the staccato noise of the shower head by clearing your throat. “So, drunk me. What the fuck were you up while I was out looking for the other mini me’s?” What scared you most was your likelihood of all of you thrown into jail because she had sex with a BABY dragon.

Drank continued looking down into the swirling river below, not bothering to tilt her head up in your direction and respond. Vomit and spit dripped out of her mouth and into the drain, her tongue lapping at the water to even remotely clean the flavor out. She stayed like this for a solid minute before finally giving you a visage of eternal pain of the drunken kind. “Can’t much say now lad, but I didn’t fuck Spike if that’s what you’re getting at. I just helped the lad clean up mah mess I made after downing the entire bottle.”

ENTIRE BOTTLE!? You knew she was trashed, but she drank an entire bottle! Nobody can handle one of those things and not be royally screwed, the stuff was stored near poison joke for fuck’s sake! All to give it that extra ‘umph’.

You looked upon the filly with both confusion and disbelief. “How in the absolute Holy Trinity of Pasta are you not dead?!” She must be joking.

To which she responded with a belch “I don’t rightly know, but this hangover is killing me brain. Could you please turn down your voice by like a four?”

This bitch… “Oh, sorry. I take it you want me to leave until the shower’s done, right? I’ll-”

The filly groaned louder, whining to make her pain feel better. “Pleaaaase don’t leave me here. I can’t move or feel my legs very well and the water is starting to chill. Help...”

The drunken blush began to fade from little you’s face, sobriety returning to her tiny body. While you prefered to let her sit there and suffer hangover for drinking, there was something unnerving about leaving. As much as you tried sucking down your empathy, it just gnawed at you not to comfort her in her time of need. Damn ponies and their magic cuteness aura.

“Fuck it, I’m not leaving until you feel better. At least until my own empathy stops bugging me.”

You walked entirely into the bathroom, kneeling next to the porcelain people washer to prop ‘yourself’ into a sitting position like a dog. Despite her claiming legs not working, she managed to hold herself up well enough. Dang, suckered into letting yourself be lazy, what a twist in situation. You reached for the shower knobs, adjusting the water so that it started getting warm again. Swiftly rolling up your sleeves, you reached up for the ‘Mane and Tail’ wash you kept at hip level, sploshing out a glob large enough to fill your hand. Careful not to get any in her ears or eyes, you scrubbed at the filly’s mane to help loosen the bits of vomit in her matted hair.

‘God, it’s only been a few hours. How did she manage to spit up and knot her hair this badly?’ You thought to yourself. You’d never know.

After finishing in her hair, pun not intended, you moved on down to her back and arm-legs. Unlike her hair, these areas were fluffy and plush, as per usual with pone coats. The breathability and texture of the hair imparted itself into your palms, almost melting them into her tiny body. Upon reaching the middle of her back, you dug your fingers in deep to really clean the alcohol-sweat from her skin. As an unintended side effect, the filly let out pleasurable mews, ones that showed both shock and happiness. One of her hind legs actually reacted like a dog’s would and began to clop on the shower floor. It was an addicting feeling to just watch her react the way she did, almost as if it were more pleasurable than anything in the world.

Your mind began to wander the further down her back you went, thoughts switching back to the events today. You weren’t exactly sure how everything would turn out tomorrow after everything, what with Twilight probably already informing her precious Princess. You didn’t know how it would affect you in any negative way, what with you harboring potentially dangerous magicks in your house. You could go to jail for contributing to their creation, if her reaction was any consolation. Most likely nothing bad would happen, since none of the girls seemed any different than you, even if their ‘normal’ consisted of only one piece of you.

You chuckled to yourself as you finally reached down to her flanks and tail, careful not to touch those filly-bits. ‘Damn, this really looks like it feels good, if her expression is of any sign,’ you thought. ‘It’s like petting a dog. Kind of jealous of her, being huggable and shit. Welp, time for a rinse.’

Though she protested against you reaching for the showerhead, it had to be done. If you didn’t get out at this moment, you never would have stopped scratching her. Thank god you just rolled up your sleeves and didn’t get in with her.

“Drunkerr…” You started, but paused mid-thought. “I don’t think we’ve decided on a name for you yet, have we?”

She looked you in the eyes through her sopping wet mane, using a hoof to push aside some of it over one of her own. “Nah, I don’t believe so. What about the other ‘us’? Any of them have one?” She asked curiously.

“Pretty much all of them, I think. There’s Estra, who is pretty much my sex drive, Pantomime or just Mime, who is all about crude humor, and Mary Jane, who you can probably guess what she’s based on.” You said, counting off the fillies. “Then there’s just basically a normal me. I have yet to see what she’s supposed to be.”

“I still feel like drinking, so what am I just supposed to be called Drunk?”

“No, that doesn’t sound very creative. Maybe something fancy, like having to do with expensive alcohol. You aren’t opposed to being named after an alcohol, are you?”

She scowled at you, nose scrunching up. “What the fuck, no! Why would you even recommend that mate!”

“Don’t hate me for coming up with something. I don’t hear you saying any names.”

“Give me a minute and maybe I would.” She spat. “How about something to do with the history of alcohol, hm? I’d rather it be educational if it’s going to be stupid, dipshit.”

“Fuck you too.” You closed your eyes and thought about history. Greece. Olives and Odysseys. Jesus making a shitty dinner party into the most counter-culture thing with his water to wine trick. “Hmmm… I’ve got it! Your name shall be ‘Vitae’. Aqua Vitae.”

“Vitae? The fuck does that even mean?”

“You dingbat, it means ‘Water of Life’ in Latin. Vitae references the Middle Ages when it was used to refer to wine or some shit. I don’t know, I was high back in high school and looked up alcohol on google.” And people say weed damages your memory.

She sighed, lamenting your inner nerd. “Fuck, I’m not nearly hung over enough for my own bullshit.”

“I think you mean my bullshit, thank you very much. You aren’t me, you’re you.” You gave her a shit-eating grin, worthy of early-internet trolls.

Vitae groaned, walking out of the shower stall and popping open the counter drawer for a hand towel. No sense in using one of the human-sized ones, since they were larger and higher up. Her annoyance gave you much amusement as she stepped into the hallway to dry off out of your sight. Oh well, off to go talk to the other girls.

You followed behind Vitae, walking towards the door and stopping dead in your tracks once you reached it. To the left of the hallway sat Estra and Mime, both giggling to themselves like mad mares.

It was unnerving to see them just sitting there, staring. “How long have you both sitting here and how much of the showering did you see?” Estra and Mime looked at each other, Mime hinting for Estra to tell you what you wanted.

“We came in to see what was taking you so long and saw little lady in there being felt up like a filthy whore. Must have been some experience to be fingered like she was, in both ways.” Estra spoke as she sauteed over to you and rubbed up and down your legs like some sort of cat. “Makes me jealous, her getting all that attention~”

“Fucking what? Gross, you dirty horse. All I was doing was washing her coat and hair, since she was too smashed to even sit up.”

Mime belched out a hearty laugh at the ridiculousness of you ‘touching yourself’. “Maybe Estra here could ‘thank you’ for her! Bwahahahah!”

The two fillies then bolted away from you, laughing like school girls the whole way as you chased them down the hall and into the living room. Oof, this was going to be an extreme experience on the daily and you could already tell it was one you wouldn’t enjoy.

And then the front door opened.