Starring Stripesby alCROWholicChaptersInvitationDivinationInfatuationCivilizationMaterializationRealizationActualizationInvitationAuthor's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. Invitation There’s a mare who lives alone, deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. She’d lived there for many years without anyone knowing, eventually becoming the subject of vicious rumours about her work. A witch who’d curse the unknowing citizens of the town. While she was smart enough to do so – the reality was that she was not so malicious. Her name is Zecora, and you are one of her few real friends. You’d met her during one of her supply runs into town and got into an illuminating conversation about making medicine using the plants you can find around town. You’re something of a loner yourself, in the sense that you usually try to do everything yourself. Leaky roof? You’ll fix it yourself. Sick? You’ll concoct your own medicine. The second one is dangerous, you’ll admit. But your home is well kept, and your coin purse is always full. It’s amazing how much money you can save when you do things yourself. Even better – you can rent out your skills to anybody looking for them. One day you might be filling in at a bakery, the next you’ll be assembling furniture. You meet her every so often at the market. You take a bit of time out of your day to speak with her. It was during your regular back and forth with Zecora that she floated a strange idea. “A good sign for you my human friend, I wonder for you, will the stars bend?” “Hm, astrology?” The zebra snickers, “Among one of many ways, but only mine will avoid dismay. Come to my shack late tonight, stare at the sky and gain insight.” “Sounds interesting. What brought this on?” “A feeling of ill I foresee for you; I hope to avoid your face turning blue.” But she just said it was a good thing a second ago. “I usually make my own medicine you know.” She nods. “But if you insist. I’ve always wanted to see your home anyway.” “The forest bares many threats, before you leave settle your debts.” You laugh. Something that most ponies in town don’t know is that Zecora likes to tell a joke or two in her rhymes. They can get pretty morbid. It’s a nice change from how… nice everyone is. “I think I’ll be fine Zecora, I’m debt free.” Her tail flicks to the side. She pulls out a paper map and hooves it to you. It’s crude, but the landmarks make it clear that it leads to her home. “Many ponies fear the Everfree, you alone may find my tree.” “Alright, seems easy enough. I don’t think any of those monsters will want to mess with me anyway.” “A striking figure your body casts, let us see how long it lasts.” Forcing it a bit there Zecora. Sometimes her rhymes were less than sensical. In her own (lyrical) words, it’s part of their culture for shamans to rhyme in speech. As many of their incantations require it, it’s drilled into them from birth. The shaman life is passed down from generation to generation along with all of their knowledge and possessions. Zecora is not a traditionalist by any means. The shaman was usually a tribal leader - responsible for looking after the old and infirm and warding away evil spirits, which in Equestria and the wider world are very real and very dangerous. Her self-isolation was one of the biggest mysteries about her. You suspect that she has such a strong fascination for the Everfree and the knowledge therein, that she cast away tribal life to seek out answers. “A curious mind is the strongest weapon, steel your thoughts so they will not deaden.” That was one of the first things she ever said to you. It stuck out in your mind for some reason. It was emblematic of everything she spoke about and stood for. She was opened minded in a way that nobody else was. She didn’t scream or run away when she first saw you, and she listened to your mad ramblings about the wonders of modern technology with a smile on her face. “I’ll see you there.” DivinationAuthor's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. Divination The Everfree forest is an intimidating place. The kind of intimidating that would scare young children. Curling branches and wildflowers, trees with faced contorted into agony. But for you this is nothing special. You elected to depart early, so as to avoid navigating the place at night. The path to Zecora’s hut was becoming well worn, regular visitors from the town would go to her for advice and to purchase her work but only if they felt brave enough. The tangled undergrowth poses no challenge for your lanky stature. The trees that would tower over a normal pony are half as intimidating as they should be. And the animals in the area rarely venture this far. That being said, it’s still much more dangerous than your average forest – and it makes sense to stay away from it in the dead of night. But this time, that’s why you’re here. You didn’t know that Zecora had an interest in Astrology, or whatever name she gave it, the principle is the same. In your old world you’d have scoffed at the idea and written it off – but this is a world of magic and spirits, so maybe her words have more truth to them than you realize. That curiosity is why you agreed to visit. Through the fading light of the evening you finally spot it, the soft glow of a yellow light breaking through the trees. You hop over one last log and enter a clearing, in the trunk of a great tree is a home made for one. With windows and a door, and open flames that might pose something of a problem inside a building made entirely of wood. But the inhabitant is not inside of the tree house, she is out front, whittling away the time by whittling a piece of wood into the form of a pony or zebra. You remain silent as you watch her chip away at the wood with a chisel, not wanting to break her concentration. Even so she speaks to you, “A visit from a friend in the dying light, I hope you don’t mind spending the night.” “If you’ve got a bed for me, I’d be happy to.” You take a seat on the ground next to her and look up to the sky. There are no electric lights out here, which means that there’s no light pollution. On a clear evening there’s a rich tapestry of stars painted across the night sky. It’s beautiful and awe inspiring, and it’s attributed to one Princess Luna. The extent of her influence on the night is in constant flux depending on who you ask. She can gaze into dreams and tear the power of fusion from the heart of a star, or she’s a rambling mad mare who is being played up by people who don’t know what she can really do. “So how does this work exactly?” “Inhale the smoke of a plant most bright, open your mind to an incredible sight.” She wants you to get absolutely rammed. A suspicious number of her remedies end with you inhaling something. “A single leaf of Dark’s Abarr will make you twist and bend the stars. A word from your mouth, an observation of fact, I will fill in for the knowledge you lack.” You might be a little bit too blazed to tell her what you’re seeing – but maybe there is a reason to the madness. You shoot the shit with your favourite Zebra for a while longer until the stars come out. She looks up, and nods. She leads you into the hut and pulls out a single purple leaf. Dark’s Abarr is one of the reagents you can only collect in the forest, named for the unfortunate fellow who consumed one of them and fell down a cliff. She lights a flame using a piece of dry kindling and a candle, holding the leaf over it until it catches alight. It lets out a plume of dark smoke. “Lean to me and inhale this deep, to grant the mind a restful sleep.” You hesitate as the acidic smell of the flower tickles your nose. But you trust Zecora to know more about this than you do. You dip inwards and allow it to fill your senses. It doesn’t have any immediate effect beyond smelling pretty bad. But when you pull away you feel a bit lightheaded. Zecora says nothing, extinguishing the flame and the leaf. She leads you outside where a cloth has been laid on the ground. You get down into a crawl and roll onto it. The night’s sky is in full bloom now. Zecora’s muzzle hovers at the edge of your vision. “Speak to me friend and do not delay, tell me what you see upon the milky way.” You remain tight lipped. You simply admire the twinkling stars above you. A cool breeze rolls through the clearing. You feel yourself slipping into a trance. The stars blur into white lines. You feel you grip on your surroundings falling away. Slipping… Slipping… A warm gust rolls over your body. “I’m alone.” A blazing field of orange grass. The shimmer of low-lying water. An oasis in the middle of a savannah. “That is not a strange thing to be, tell me now, what else do you see? You sit up and realize just how powerful this illusion is. It’s almost like you’re really here. You can feel the heat of the noon sun, and the way that the grass pokes and prods at your exposed skin. In the distance, a trail of smoke. Life. “There’s a fire.” On unsteady feet you walk, worried that at any moment you’ll fall over an unseen root or smack into a tree. The freedom of movement is beyond rationalisation. You walk for nearly five minutes until your target finally crests the horizon. A small hut made from mud and straw. A chimney pokes through it’s rustic façade. “And a home. I’m in some kind of savannah.” The words feel like cotton in your mouth. “The savannah is great and not for the meek, perhaps it is a zebra of courage you seek?” A zebra. Zebras have been on your mind recently. Haven’t they? You wonder if this place, a mockery of the savannahs of Africa conjured from childhood viewings of the Lion King, bore any resemblance to Zecora’s own homeland. “The only Zebra I know is you, Zecora.” She says nothing. You approach the entrance to the hut and pull away the beads that cover the door. Your anticipation is left wanting, as there is no one inside. The interior is similar to Zecora’s home, covered with various mementos designed to ward away spirits. You peruse the items, picking up a colourful totem in the visage of a rainbow striped Zebra. “A zebra with rainbow stripes huh?” “An odd colouration, but in life it would attract admiration. A blessing from the spirits – a prophet of beginnings, stay your hand and discard your winnings.” Translation: put it down and get on with it. You place the statue back into it’s rightful place and leave the way you came. But unlike the bright savannah that you started in; you instead cross the threshold into a bustling festival. It was so sudden that you almost missed it. You look back and see that the hut is gone, and there was no door to come through in the first place. Normally noticing something like that would wake you up. But the leaf you inhaled is known to calm the nerves, sometimes to dangerous effect. The festival is taking place in a village made of dozens of similar buildings. They are decorated with tapestries of complicated patterns. Zebras of all shapes and sizes dance and sing. Again – you aren’t sure whether there’s any truth to this. This is just the bias of a human’s brain. You’re not so presumptuous to think that Zebras are an analogue for people who lived in Africa. “There’s a village, and they’re having a party.” “A festival to celebrate a turning wheel, focus and regale, how do you feel?” As you watch them go about their business, you can’t help but feel a little jealous. You haven’t had the chance to celebrate with friends like this. Your entire social circle, and all of your family connections were wiped away. You had nobody. “I… I wish I could join in.” “Your admittance is a promising start, the greatest ill is a lonely heart. Yet still we venture on, there is much to see before the night is gone.” You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel a hoof touch your arm. You look down to meet the azure gaze of a zebra mare, she smiles, not displaying any fear to your alien appearance. Her mane is decorated and tied with golden bands. She speaks no words but pushes you deeper into the gathering until you’re brought to one of the fires. Several zebras busy their mouths and hooves decorating and trimming the others. She pats the dusty ground as if to motion you to sit with her. “A mare is offering me a place.” You sit down in front of her and bend your head so she can reach. She runs her hoof through your hair and begins speaking in a language you don’t understand. A muddled mess composed of terms you’ve heard from Zecora over the months but have yet to comprehend. “She’s doing something with my hair.” “To the vain a meaningless task, to the weary a bond that will last. To a place or a name we do not belong, through our similarities only do we grow strong.” You sit and bask in the heat of the fire. The mare seems to struggle to style your hair in the same way that the other Zebras do, it’s just too short to do much with. Having dreadlocks or a mohawk never appealed to you. She slicks back your fringe with some kind of gel and trims the sides, leaving it slightly shorter than when she started. A single white strange dangles in your periphery. White? Did the gel dye it too? You aren’t too concerned, none of this is real after all. But it’s a curious point. You’re almost certain that Zecora’s two tone mane is natural. A mirror is held up, and you admire the new style. It makes your forehead look way too big… and it has a bunch of white stripes in it. “An… interesting look.” “A question that I hope does not earn ire, is it the appearance of your heart’s desire?” “I never really thought about it.” “Not everything you see will be profound, do not fear taking new ground. The stars align for your sake alone, seek the ill for which you must atone.” Unless you find a vision of yourself in a hospital bed, it seems unlikely. “Didn’t you say that these visions were the future?” “A dash of truth in times of need, the eyes of another will plant the seed. A cryptic sight of a land unfound, open your ears and eyes to the sound.” So they’re a metaphor. Would it have killed her to put it bluntly for once? “I don’t see why hanging out at a Zebra party would reveal my future.” Zecora keeps any further explanation to herself. Leaving you to wander between the narrow pathways that are bustling with waist high zebras. There’s a band playing music in the middle of the village, and several partners dance and shuffle in a big circle around the central bonfire. “I’m getting flashbacks to my first party,” stood around on your own like an awkward moron. “These zebras have given you a chance, could you not join in and dance?” You run a hand through your hair, what a silly question! You’re way too tall for them! How could a biped dance with a quadruped anyway? You’d have to hold them up by their front legs and swing them around. You turn around and are suddenly face to face with the mare who styled your hair just a few moments ago. Her blue eyes light up with excitement. She says something and tugs on your arm, something doesn’t feel right. You follow her into the circle, noticing the appraising eyes of the other couples. They laugh and joke, and yell at her. She blushes bright red. “Speak with me now and do not sleep, there is a danger with falling too deep.” “A mare is trying to dance with me, she has a crush on me which is weird. Because I’m just a monkey man…” What in hell are you talking about? Zecora must be laughing her flank of out there. “…Do you think I’m attractive?” “A matter of anxiety, separated from society. For as broad as the ocean and deep as the sea, the judgement of others will cause them to flee. For a world apart conformity is the price, to see the faces of others and nice.” Not grammatically accurate, but you’ll give her one freebie. “Sometimes I feel like I want to ‘conform,’ but there’s not much I can do about it. The body isn’t as malleable as the mind. The best I can do is to put on a brave face and make my own friends.” The fires blur into lines. You stare into the eyes of your dancing partner. You move uncertainly, trying not to step on any of them. Not that it matters anymore – they’re the same height as you after all. Round and round. Round and round. You blink. The night sky greets you. “Zecora?” The mare hovers on the edge of your vision, “That felt real.” You’re back in the world of the living. “I’ve never felt anything like that. Not in my life.” She holds a hoof on your chest as you try to get up, shaking her head. “The leaf’s sight is still in effect, it’s hold on your senses you must respect.” You don’t really know what just happened. Did Zecora see you running and dancing in your sleep like a dog? Did you get magically transported to an insensitive pastiche of African clichés that your stupid brain stuck together? And how on earth is this related to Zecora worrying about your health? You have more questions than answers. Zecora doesn’t seem too forthcoming about answering them right now. “I feel fine Zecora. I still don’t get how this is meant to help though.” She smiles, “Immediate results the dream will not show, what you said was more revealing than you know. An ill of body may not be our quarry, an ill of the mind will be your inflammatory.” “So it’s a brain problem, because I’m pretty sure I already knew that I had that,” you joke. “Another sighting there will not be, this coming night visit my tree.” You groan and sit up, your sense of balance thrown into wack by lying down for too long. How long have you been here? She escorts you inside and allows you to climb onto a makeshift bed she’s constructed. You wish her a good night, but sleep doesn’t come so easily after that experience. A white strand. There’s a white strand there. What is that doing there? The white strand that’s above your head. InfatuationAuthor's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. Infatuation You knew that something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t place it. When you woke up the next morning you could feel it. It wasn’t putting you off balance, or making you feel ill, but something was different. Different in a way you couldn’t explain. You worried to yourself that it was this foreboding illness that Zecora had alluded to the previous day. Speaking of Zecora, she seemed to be in a spirited mood when you awoke, laying out a breakfast for the two of you. She reserved any further comment on what happened the previous night until you’d finished. You hated eating at other pony’s houses in town because they always served salad, or salad that had been fried and compacted into a thin mockery of a hamburger. You like your fruit and veg, but not on it’s own, and not every day. Zecora has a novel solution. She likes to boil things into various kind of soup. It’d be mean to imply that it’s because of her job as a shaman. Zecora is an attentive mare and noticed how much more you enjoyed the warmer meals versus the cold ones. It made it a little more bearable. You put the bowls into a bucket of water when you finish. Zecora might live in a tree trunk but she likes things clean. “To see your skin is not pale or white, did you have a pleasant night?” “Yeah, no problems here. I mean, I feel a little different…” Zecora smiles but says nothing more. Which his strange. Zecora is a chatty zebra – she loves to talk your ear off about whatever she’s working on at the moment. The organized chaos taking place on all of her shelves suggests that she’s been commissioned for something. Zecora completes the rest of her morning routine as you sit back and wait. She fixes up her mane that was messed up in her sleep and adorns herself with the golden bands that usually cover her neck and leg, just the one leg and not any of the others. You feel like you’re intruding on something private because you are but Zecora never complains. “A chilly morning, but the sun blooms bright, may I make some use of your human might?” “Sure. I’m happy to give you a hand.” “Scour the forest and search for a seed, your severed limb I do not need.” “It’s a figure of speech Zecora, I say it all the time. What kind of seed are you looking for?” “A yellow seed that seldom lingers, a grain small enough to slip between your fingers. A single piece of Yellow Fright, for us to continue our night borne flight.” So she needs it to put you into a weed coma again? How complicated was this divination of hers. There is no time for questions as she picks up her bag and trots out the front door, you stumble after her and duck under the low ceiling. She was right, it’s much colder this morning. You shiver slightly as the cold air nips at your skin. “I wish I had fur sometimes. I’m curious, how does this reading work? Since I’m the one in the dream – what do you see?” “The stars are a canvas and your mind is a brush, they contact each other and come aflush. For a talented eye can see arisen, that which in a dream is usually hidden.” “So, just from what I described to you, you can look up and predict the future or something?” “A simple explanation will do for now, a tale for later is the matter of how. I do not wish to be aloof but let us focus on the task at hoof.” “Fine. Is this the spot?” Zecora has brought you out into a clearing. A gentle stream of clear water runs nearby. If it weren’t for the twisted trees it’d almost be a nice spot to get away from everything for a while. “Yellow Fright is an allusive foe, but where it grows is what I know.” Zecora, struggling to come up with a rhyme to properly explain, bends down and begins to rifle through the undergrowth. Rocks, leaves, branches, they’re all overturned and discarded into a nearby pile. That’s your cue to join in. For almost an hour you get down on your hands and knees and squint at the ground. Zecora was not joking when she described this stuff as elusive. Even worse was the idea that it could easily be blown away if you moved to hastily. “Why are we searching in this spot specifically? There aren’t any flowers here.” “A shifting tide that cycles anew, from what wind did the seed blew? There is nothing here now, but soon there will be, a field of flowers like a yellow sea.” “Wait, I found some!” Zecora trots over as you carefully and painstakingly turn over a small wooden log, revealing a small ditch filled with small seeds that have been blown through. Zecora wastes little time in gathering them. Your dexterous digits make the job much easier. “Alright, how many do we need?” “The find you present is no bluff, this amount is more than enough.” With a full load you both travel back to the hut. “I have some other things to do today, so I’m going to need to head out soon. Do you want me to come back here again tonight?” Zecora nods. “Alright, same time. I’ll see you then.” You shake your head as you walk down the well-trodden path back to town. Zecora’s assistance sure does take a long time… You need to complete some of your chores for the day. Food, cleaning the house, etc. Unfortunately the only good place in town to get bread is sugarcube corner. You resign yourself to your fate and walk through the front door. Pinkie waves from behind the counter. At least she didn’t pounce on you this time. “Morning Pinkie. Is it still morning? I lost track of time.” “My Pinkie clock says that it’s only ten! You’re fine! You look a bit messy, have you been on an adventure?” “You could call it that, Zecora wanted my help with something.” “You should have invited me! I love adventures.” Pinkie already knows what you want, she bags up a pair of loaves and hands them to you. She squints at you, “Did you do something with your hair? It’s all woah! Instead of being flat like plplplp.” Pinkie mimics the sound of a deflating balloon. “And that white stripe is pretty daring too! Do you think I could pull that off?” It’s just Pinkie being weird again. “No, I haven’t had a haircut in a while.” “Hm, if you say so!” You thank Pinkie again and allow the pony behind you to place their own order. What a weird girl. The rest of the day is similar though, with several acquaintances questioning why you have a new hairdo. You have no idea what they’re talking about. But it persists, there isn’t a single pony who doesn’t comment on it. You feel like you’re being targeted with some kind of weird rumour or prank. By the time you get home you’ve definitely gotten tired of hearing it. You sigh, put away your purchases and rush into the bathroom. You didn’t realize how dirty you were from all that effort. You bathe yourself and put on a fresh set of clothes. Finally you walk over to the mirror and look at yourself. Normal face, normal body, stripy hair… Now that you mention it, something does feel strange. But you still can’t place what it is. It’s really frustrating, you should know this. It’s on the tip of your tongue. No it’s not. It’s gone. Slipped away from you. Whatever, you’re getting worked up over nothing. You’re going to Zecora’s again later. It’s time to clean up the place. And maybe take a jacket if it’s going to be cold again. You idly wonder how many times you’ll need to undergo her “treatment” until she reaches a conclusion. CivilizationYou find yourself back on your back. Staring at the stars that Zecora has become so transfixed with recently. You have to ask yourself if this is really for your sake and not hers. A cool breeze blows through the clearing by Zecora’s hut. It’s not unpleasant since you remembered to bring a coat, “Having fur must be convenient, no need for coats or anything.” “A layer of fur keeps the chill at bay, but still we shiver on the coldest of days.” “I guess even ponies need a coat sometimes.” Zecora lays out a small pot filled with some kind of herb next to your head. “Do you think you’ll find out the problem this time?” “An answer at once I cannot relay, will you make do with a small delay?” “Sure, I guess. Everybody in town was acting strange earlier though. They were acting like I’d gotten a haircut when no one was looking.” Zecora glances down at you from the corner of her cyan eyes, she is focused on the task at hand but seems to find the thought amusing, judging by the smirk on her muzzle. Without another word she ignites the bowl with a candle and hands… hoofs it to you. You hold it on your chest and allow the fumes to wash over you. You silently hope that these aren’t harmful. You’re stood in the middle of town, wait a minute – weren’t you just at Zecora’s tree? You look around and see the usual ponies going about their routines. Did you hit your head or something? “Zecora?” you whisper. “Do not bray and cower in fear, your guide to the stars and fate is here.” “Oh good, I was worried I’d just hallucinated half of my day, and I do not want to go shopping again.” You begin to wander the façade of the town with a nervous smile. You know that the ponies around you aren’t real, but you still feel the need to keep up appearances and act normally. What would it say about you if you just decided to punt Twilight up the ass when she can’t retaliate? There is something different though, at first you don’t notice, but when you try to enter Sugarcube Corner and nearly knock yourself out on the doorframe you figure it out. “Why is the door so short?” You have to bend over to get through the damn thing. You know for a fact that despite the short stature of most ponies that the doors are tall enough for you still. You take a step back and look around, noticing a similar trend amongst all of the businesses and homes in your field of view. None of the ponies pay you much mind as you stagger about like a lost tourist. “This is kind of freaking me out,” you muse. Everything seems to be a little bit shorter than it usually is. “To be heard is to be believed, so tell me what it is that you see?” “Well, it’s just Ponyville, but all of the doors are too short. Shorter than they usually are.” You look down at yourself – you aren’t any taller, everything else has gotten smaller. You nearly jump out of your own skin as you feel a hoof touch your leg. It’s Pinkie, and you can tell that she’s gotten smaller too, where she usually reaches up to your crotch area, she now only meets your knees. “Wow! You’re super-duper tall now! Did you have a growth spurt?” “No Pinkie. Did you change the front door at Sugarcube corner.” “Hm. I don’t think so! Ms Cake was very upset at me the last time I tried to remodel without her permission!” In typical Pinkie fashion, implying that she’s tried that kind of stunt multiple times. It takes you a moment to remember that this isn’t real and that you just made the entire thing up. “It’s kind of inconvenient isn’t it? I have to duck down to even get inside.” “Hm. True! But this is Ponyville after all, there aren’t any swell folk who are tall like you! Here, take this as an apology.” Pinkie pulls out a cupcake and hands it to you, “Oh, thank you.” You take a bite, but your teeth meet something disagreeable. You spit it out into your hand and notice that the normally digestible cake is mixed with short strands of hay. You know that the ponies enjoy hay, but there was always food available that didn’t have any in it… “Hey Pinkie, I can’t eat hay.” “Huh, really? That doesn’t sound right to me, especially with those big chompers of yours! Go on, give it another try!” For some reason you find the idea perfectly reasonable. You throw the half-chewed piece onto the ground and take a fresh bite. Whereas before it scraped against the soft skin on the inside of your mouth, and got caught between your teeth, now you find it easy to mash up and swallow. And dare you say, it even tastes good. “You were right. I guess I was just being a picky eater.” Pinkie smiles, “See? It’s easy If you try!” You chuckle, “You really opened my eyes to a whole new world of food. Thanks.” But when you look down, she’s gone. She didn’t even stick around to hear you say thanks, typical Pinkie. She’s probably hounding some other poor pony on the other side of town. “The words you speak are that of mystery, perhaps influenced by recent history.” You almost forgot that Zecora was listening to you talk, “Pinkie just taught me to appreciate a new type of food, that’s all. I don’t know if it’ll carry over into real life…” “We are creatures that exist to feel - sometimes a dream is as good as real.” “Hm. Well, I hope I don’t get stabbed then.” “To peer inside your mind if I may, on this matter what have you to say?” “I suppose with the doors and the food – this dream has something to do with feeling out of place? Like being inconvenienced in lots of little ways.” “A feeling of rejection will turn any creature blue, is this the feeling that always plagues you?” “Sometimes. But I know that the doors in real life are tall enough for me, I think my mind is playing tricks on me.” “Reality and dream may not always align - but every sight and sound is a sign. To delve into the depths of one’s own heart is the path that leads to a preordained start. We gaze at the stars and seize upon our mind, a tapestry of feeling from the finest twine.” “I get it Zecora. It’s just that it’s hard to admit that you feel out of place to other people. You want to put on a brave face for your friends.” She is right. There are lots of things that chip away at your spirit. The way that some of the ponies try to avoid eye contact with you or move away to the other side of the road like you’re a wild dog. The way that most menus at the restaurants are filled with hay. How hard it is to get your hands on some damn fish to keep things fresh. Everything has to be an inconvenience, a journey that can take hours to solve properly. Zecora had told you the tale before. Even she, a native of the land that you find yourself in – faced a similar situation filled with rumour and innuendo. It surprised you for a moment, but then it started to remind you of how people were back home. They’d act polite to your face and get the knives out when your back was turned. “But I’m sure it’s not as bad as what you had to deal with. Since I was an alien, they put on a polite face for me. It’s strange, but you being from this world made you more of a stranger than me.” “This is a tale long covered by rust, by it’s circulation I have your trust?” “Psh. Trust? I’ve been spilling my deepest darkest secrets to you in a drugged-up haze for two nights in a row. I think we’re a bit past trust at this point,” you don’t feel like you’ve been drugged though. Perhaps that’s how everyone experiencing a high feels. The answers come quickly; you feel in control. “Once upon a time the thought made me weep, but we all have things that keep us from sleep. Confront the ordeal with a head held high – and the ponies will realize there is no reason why.” “You’re a braver mare than me. I mean, I’m not a mare at all, but you get the point.” For some reason you find that hilarious and burst out into a barking laughter. You double over, but when you stand back up you find your eyeline lower than you remember. How odd! Those small pony doorframes don’t pose so much of a problem anymore. Small victories should be taken in stride. You look down at your hands and notice discolouration beginning to seep in. It’s almost like you’re covered in jagged bruises that lay deep under the skin. The shape and neatness of them though, you didn’t get those bruises from a fight or falling down some stairs. “Trippy.” You discard your worries and smile, there’s nothing to worry about! It’s just that stuff that Zecora is burning getting into your head again. None of this is real. “Hey Zecora, you should tell me more about your home sometime. I can tell you about mine as well if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s really interesting…” Zecora doesn’t answer. You find yourself back in a familiar village. The sun is shining bright and the decorations that adorned the buildings and posts have been taken down. Oh, it’s your lovely Africa-amalgamation again, the one with all the Zebras and free hair styling! You were thinking about Zecora’s home, so it follows that this change of scenery is your fault. You doubt that Zecora’s home is anything like this. This is just something that your imagination conjured up. A fever dream of sub-Saharan documentaries and stereotypes. Zecora doesn’t help dispel that image with all of her wooden masks and trinkets. You feel comfortable here. You walk between the tents on wooden boards laid down to make the soft ground navigable. Zebras go about their daily business, selling wares, talking with friends, gathering around fires and eating. It’s like a big camp out. If all the campers were chest high Zebras. Chest high? You feel a muzzle poke at your back. You spin around and meet the gaze of the mare who so graciously styled your hair the last time you visited. She seems excited to see you – her eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky. Her pushes become insistent as she leads you to one of the fires. The zebras say something in their language; judging from their tone they’re happy to see you again. You’re handed a cup of something. It’s lukewarm and tickles your nose with a bitter scent. Not wanting to be a rude guest you down it in one go and nearly gag, it’s alcoholic! She pats you on the back as you try to get air into your windpipe again. The others laugh and jeer, some trying to emulate the feat themselves. Your surroundings begin to blur. A small spark of worry fills the back of your mind – Zecora has been strangely quiet for a long time now. Not that it matters. The party is getting good and you’ve got a good buzz coming on from all this zebra booze. The fire illuminates the zebras, a veil of dark grasping the savannah. The zebra mare rubs against you and leads you away, the group cheers and hollers again. She leads you to a small tent away from the commotion of the ongoing party. She pushes you inside and you stumble down onto a blanket made from animal fur. “Oh man, I had too much to drink. Hey!” The mare turns you over and begins to pull down your pants. You reach out and touch her, to push her away and maintain your dignity. But that harsh touch turns into a soft caress. The fur feels so good underneath your fingers. She blushes and smiles, pierced ears flicking in delight. The thought that you’re about to get your dick sucked off by a zebra mare does not register at some point. Hot breath splashes against your exposed member. You’re not one to brag or to downplay his own size, but you’re pretty certain that you aren’t going to be pleasing any pony with your penis right now. The simple fact of the matter is that four-legged creatures have big old herbivore dicks, and you have an apex predator monkey wiener that’s designed to not get crushed when you sit on a chair. Your partner does not seem to care. Her thick, broad tongue slips out and meets your shaft. It’s warm, really warm! You continue to play with her ears and fur as she gives you an impromptu blowjob. You feel the sweat running from her fur, the evening humidity getting to the both of you. A splotch of black slips from between her muzzle and the pleasure ceases. You look down, initially thinking that you simply saw one of her stripes, but instead your penis is now afflicted with the same condition as your arms and legs. It’s thicker, angry, and veiny. Where before it comfortably sat between your legs, now it bulges from between your thighs in a battle for what little space is available. “Uh, is that supposed to happen?” She giggles and your heart skips a beat – well there’s nothing wrong with it per se. You can live with it for now while you have your fun at least! She struggles to take the newly enhanced length into her muzzle, her throat bulging slightly as the tip slips past her tonsils. You gasp, fingers digging into the furs surrounding you. And just like that, the fun stops. You blink and shudder as an orgasm rocks your body. Pins and needles run across your body. You break into a cold sweat and lose focus of what you were doing. You blink. A striped face hovers over you, framed by a clear night sky. She smiles and you smile back. But it isn’t the face from before. This is someone new. You mumble, “Huh, Zecora?” Your eyes slip shut. Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. MaterializationYou’re being watched. Wooden masks twisted into scornful scowls surround you on all sides. You feel like you’re being pricked with a thousand little needles, all over the surface of your skin. Zecora is nowhere to be seen. You wrestle your neck into upwards movement and scan the inside of her small abode. “Zecora?” You reach up and feel at your face. Everything seems to be in order still. You swing your legs out of bed and try not to throw up in the process. Your sense of balance is all out of whack and you have no idea why. Was it the aftereffects of the drugs that Zecora had given you? Your tail idly sways behind you. What happened to your clothes? You’re naked as a new-born baby. You glance down at your crotch, legs spread slightly to give space for your frankly oversized penis. What an absurd thing. What manner of creature has a penis that is too big for it’s body? That’s so large that it gets in the way of everyday activities. You stand up and grasp it before it swings away and shatters something important. God knows how you’d explain the damage to Zecora should the worst happen. Sorry Zecora, buddy, pal, my gigantic black dick just slapped one of your valuable artefacts and threw it to the ground. You scour the hut to try and find your clothes but find nothing. Damn it, you can’t leave without them! You gather your nerve and tiptoe to the front door. You unlock the latch and peel it open. You take a cautious glance into the forest, and satisfied that nobody is around to see your shame and pride, step out into the front clearing, “Zecora? Did you take my clothes?” With no answer forthcoming you retreat back inside. Zecora might be eccentric sometimes, but she’d not be immature enough to pull a silly prank like this. For all you know she must have taken them to clean them off while you were asleep, like a good friend would after a drug fuelled dream bender. You blush as your begin to piece together some of the… thoughts that the herbs had induced in you. You hope you didn’t mouth some of that to Zecora. While she expected honesty, she certainly did not want to hear your stupid wet dream fantasy at a time of importance. You don’t usually think much about your four-legged townsmen in a sexual way. But there was just something about the way that the zebra mare took you along. By the time she started to act you didn’t even care anymore. This is not the time to be popping a boner in your friend’s house. Not the time at all. Your heart drops into your stomach and out of your ass as you hear the door open from the outside. You dive back under the covers on the bed and try to keep your crotch from sight. Zecora places her saddlebag down next to the cauldron and shoots you a coy smile. She’s trying to give you a god damn heart attack. “Awake and aware at least I see, a precious guest in the heart of my tree. Although you may know that I am no prude, I know you as well are not as comfortable nude. I departed to the lake unknown to most, to clean your clothes as a gracious and kind host.” Zecora hands you the saddlebag and you pull out your formerly dirty clothes, “Oh, thank you. I was getting worried that you were pulling a prank on me for a second there.” “I did not expect you to waken so soon, not at least till the passing of noon.” “…Zecora, say it to me straight – what is this really all about? Are you really trying to see the future, or divine the stars, or cure me of a mystery illness?” “The measures I take are not false or lame, the dreams you show me are not made in vain. Illness of body or illness of mind, these are the things that will be divined. The stars have shown me a branch of your tree, a path you may walk or turn from and flee. You are blind to the truth now, but not forever, there are ties to the past that you must sever.” “Something doesn’t feel right, what did those herbs do to me?” “The words I speak will not stay in mind, that is what to you are purposefully blind. The things you feel and the changes to face, it is up to you to decide their pace.” “How can I decide a pace if I don’t even know what you’re doing?” you sigh. Zecora’s eyes narrow with menace, her hooves shoot forward and rip the blanket away from your naked body, “Woah! Hold on, Zecora!” You try and fail to cover your semi-erect member with your hands, which are just too small to cover it effectively. Zecora seems pleased with it, or at the very least she doesn’t complain about your nudity. “Your lower half betrays your honesty; you care little for protecting your modesty.” You don’t know what to say. But you aren’t stupid enough to imply that Zecora isn’t interested. It’s still a bit of a shock. Why would she be interested in a guy like you? Because you spend some time together? You never got much of a romantic impression from her. But on further thought you realize that it isn’t so strange at all. You and Zecora are both outsiders to the town in a lot of ways. Zecora is a native of this world, unlike you, but even she isn’t immune from the suspicion and forgery of the gossip machine. While everyone puts on a friendly face for you, you can’t but feel that they’re afraid of you. Some of them don’t even give you that courtesy. But does that mean you should leap at the chance to sleep with her? You aren’t so sure. It seems that it doesn’t matter what you think though, as Zecora leans down and plants the tip of her muzzle on the base of your member. “I hope you do not find me out of line, but the musk of this shaft is simply divine.” Zecora doesn’t await permission, she cuts through your differing objections by planting her mouth on the flared tip of your cock and going on the attack. You grip the sheets as your overly sensitive cock is assaulted by her skilled tongue. A tinge of familiarity strikes you. This entire situation reminds you of the dream you had last night. You exhale as Zecora takes you deep into her throat. You reach out and touch the back of her head, feeling the soft fur and egging her on to go further. Her pierced ears flick and swivel as if to keep track of the noises you’re making. She’s enjoying this. “Z-Zecora, I don’t think I can hold on.” She pulls back, still connected to you via a line of drool. Her hooves dart down and pull out a small glass jar. She places it down on the tip of your cock, and the feeling of the cool glass pushes you over the edge. You grunt as you let out a bestial load, far larger than any you’ve ever let out before. Zecora smiles as if she was outside picking plants. When you finally finish, she corks the stuff up and slides it back under the bed. “Zecora.” She nods. “Why?” “Romantic as I may be, I will not turn down a good regent for free.” “…What exactly do you use cum for?” Zecora just laughs at you. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, briefly brushing against your own ears. This mare is just a total mystery to you sometimes. Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. I got a part time job finally, pretty tough times to be looking for work though. I wanted to make decent money off my writing but obivously that's a pipe dream right now. Fimfiction is a pretty limited audience, even moreso given my choice of genre. Thanks for reading again. I'm trying to wrap this story up soon. Realization“Buddy, we need to talk.” Time Tuner peers up from beneath chest height. It was your usual routine of hanging out with your good friend on a Saturday. Something had felt off recently, but you just couldn’t put your finger on what it was. “…Is this about my crippling fur stroking addiction.” “That’s kind of weird, but no. It’s about something else.” You scratch the back of your head, “So what is it?” Your ears flick as they pick up the subtle sounds of the town outside. Turner had asked you to drop by his house first before you did anything else. Every wall is covered top to bottom with clocks and watches that he’s been working on for his clients. He glances up at your head and scowls. “Okay, seriously. That Zecora mare has done something to you.” “Like what?” “Come on man! Look at yourself in the mirror for Celestia’s sake, you have zebra ears, and stripy hair!” “Is there something wrong with trying a new look every now and then?” He slams his hooves onto the kitchen table, “Getting a manecut is trying a new look, having your body changed through witchcraft is certainly not.” “It’s not witchcraft, you’re being judgemental.” “Then what is it?” “She’s just really good with plants and chemicals and shit. And for that matter – we’re living in a world where your average pony has the ability to levitate things, what the hell do you mean witchcraft?” Time Turner ignores you and pulls out a hand mirror, shoving it into your palms, “Look. Please.” “I don’t see the problem.” “You didn’t have zebra ears a few days ago.” Suddenly it clicks, “…Oh.” But short of revulsion or anger, the only emotion you feel is… apathy. Like this is the way things have always been. But at the same time you’re now aware that Zecora has done something to your body. “I guess that’s why people keep mentioning that huh.” “Oh thank goodness, finally.” You put the mirror back down and shrug, “Alright. Maybe I do need to go have a chat with her.” “What if she throws you into a cauldron and boils the skin off your bones?” “…You really don’t know much about Zecora. Do you? You know that kind of rumour mongering really upsets her.” Time Turner’s ear flatten, “Oh, I suppose you’re right. I’m sure you’ll be able to smooth things out with her.” Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. So, when Starring Stripes wraps up (which I'm trying to do soon - this story is intended to be pretty to the point) I'm thinking of finally hosting a suggestion box on the patreon since it's one of the things I promised. Mainly because I'm out of bloody ideas. Originally I wanted more people to take part, but I suppose it's a lose-lose situation if I just keep waiting for more people to sign up. So, if you'd like to take part, the lowest tier is 2 bucks per chapter (you can limit how much you pay though.) ActualizationThe path to Zecora’s home is familiar now. Even with the dying light of winter’s evening sun, you can easily navigate your way through the maze-like trees and thick underbrush of the forest. The last thing you want right now is time to think. Because the longer you do, the less you find yourself capable of being upset with Zecora. You need to hear it from the mare herself. Did she mean for this to happen? The light of her abode cuts through the branches like a knife. You come out into the clearing and take a deep breath to try and clear away some of the anxiety clutching your chest. You knock on the door and step back. A few seconds later it opens to reveal Zecora. She isn’t wearing her usual distinct mohawk, her hair lies flat across her head like many of the other ponies in town. That being said, her mane grows differently to the other ponies – it’s more like what you’d expect from an equine. “Zecora, can we talk?” She steps out of the doorway and allows you to enter the hut. The door closes, trapping the hot air inside and allowing you to get some comfort back after the long walk in the cold. You take off your coat and leave it on the bed. There’s a lot you need to say, but you don’t know where to start. The way that Zecora had gotten… intimate with you the last time you were here was a surprise. Does she feel for you in that way? Or was it just a bout of madness? “Ask me a question and I will not lie; I can see the sparking anger in your eyes.” Zecora keeps a respectful distance from you as you try to work your way through what you want to say. You pace around the room, your mind awash with a million separate thoughts. “I… I noticed. That I was changing. A friend talked me out of whatever stupor I was in. And the only thing I can think of is that it’s your fault. I guess it’s pretty obvious now, anyway. The first question is, why?” “I did as I did with no intention to wrong, I simply wished to give you a place to belong.” “Did you know that this would happen?” Zecora takes a moment to think on her answer, or to come up with a rhyme that can explain it. “The treatment I prescribed can cure many an ill, but the outcome is dependent on the patient’s heart and will. You felt like an outsider, looked down on by others, the magical power of my root sought to grant you many brothers.” “…There’s only one other Zebra around here, and she’s a mare.” You sit down on the bed and sigh, “Well, I guess there isn’t much to do about it now – unless you have an antidote lying here somewhere that can undo it.” “While I understand your desire for space, an easy out is simply not the case. Before you is a road split in twain, each one leads to a new tinge of pain. Abandon yourself and start anew or suppress your desire and allow it to stew.” “So what I’m taking away from this is that I’m stuck with the zebra dick and the floppy ears.” Zecora nods again. You throw your hands up, “Oh for fuck’s sake. Well, I don’t want to be some weird half and half zebra man if I don’t have to be.” Zecora pulls something down from one of her shelves. It’s what’s left of the plants that you gathered with her. “If your resolve is strong and your heart is set, we can end this façade and burn the rest. A new form you will be given, one that fits this world true, and only then will you not feel blue.” You know that she’s right. You never felt like you fit in with the ponies in town. It’s an irrational fear, but a fear nonetheless. “Zecora. This isn’t just about that, is it?” If she wanted to respond, she doesn’t. She places the bowl on a small table and motions you to it. You kneel down in front of it as Zecora sets it alight. She remains silent as the smoke begins to fill the room with the smell of ash. “No matter the form, your affection would matter, but with the form of your body, I could not be anything but flattered.” The smoke fills the room, and you realize now that Zecora will also be affected by the power of the plant. Zecora doesn’t see fit to object or flee, she closes her eyes and allows it to wash over her. “I came on a long journey from the West, and thought that isolation suited me best. But I was wrong and foolish, I did not know rest, to be alone was a difficult test.” A quilt of stars hangs over you. There, peering through the darkness is a familiar mare. Zecora. She stands before a carefully constructed village in the middle of rolling plains. Orange strands of grass surround a small watering hole. Trees in a circle, many of them used as structures to construct huts similar to her own. To an uneducated observer it’s almost like the trunks sprouted through the buildings and out of their roofs. “For the years from my birth this was my home, the anointed place where the Westward winds had blown. My family the village shaman, both trusted and wise, but my young eye sought an even greater prize.” Another Zecora, wearing a cloak and covered in bags that must contain all of her worldly possessions, emerges from one of the houses and begins the long walk to her destination. Flashes of new places and people fly by – are these her memories? Or just your interpretation of things again? You flash forward to the forest again, in front of Zecora’s hut. But this isn’t the real one. “A grove where secrets and monsters lurk, I made the Everfree forest my place of work. Flora and fauna not once seen by my people, I would find them, blood, muscle and sepal.” You suddenly feel off balance. You fall down onto your hands and knees as the muscles begin to cramp up. You feel a pressure pulling on them until they’re taut, like the strings of a guitar. You cannot begin to describe how strange this feels. Everything is wrong, somehow. Your legs are wrong, your arms are wrong. Your fingers feel like they’ve been left out in the cold for too long. “No backing out now.” “Where we are now is at is seems, the power of this plant is to connect our dreams.” You’re back in your old home. Nothing has changed since then. But it’s empty. Empty of the people that you knew, who’ll never see you again pending another stroke of chance. You groan as you feel your body shifting again, your jaw elongates and pushes outwards, pulling your nose with it until it forms a gross half-human muzzle. The magic at play quickly sets about correcting that mistake, white fur begins to sprout from under the skin and covers the stretched flesh at a rapid clip. “I miss my old place, I really do. But I have to make the best of where I am now. I don’t want to live trying to keep myself ready to lose everything again, I want to throw myself into everything I do every single day.” “A heart and mind embroiled by woe, cease your worries and simply let go.” You close your eyes and imagine it, what it would be like to be eye to eye with all of the ponies that you’ve met over the past year. Your friends, your neighbours. They’d have accepted you no matter what, but you want to walk a mile in their horseshoes for once. You don’t want to have to explain yourself to others anymore. Zecora floats to the surface again. You can never seem to avoid thinking of her at times like this. Her wisdom, her words, they all mean so much to you. If you were one tenth the person that she was, you’d have made all the difference in the world. But you still have that chance, there’s still an entire lifetime stretching out in front of you, waiting to be used for something great. She kisses you. You push back against the pressure on your chest. This is a battle that you cannot win. Her tongue invades your muzzle and duels with your own, hot breath splashes over your face as she blows air out of her nose to try and keep her breathing under control. You open your eyes and look at her, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” “Every action leaves it’s own wake, but you did not accept this just for my sake…” “Maybe not, but right now – you’re the only thing I can think about. So this is for you Zecora.” Zecora grows larger by the moment, the volume and area of your chest shrinking down smaller and smaller. Your arms aren’t arms any longer. Your fingers recede into your palm, and the skin becomes hardened as a layer of nail magically hardens over the top of it. You feel a pinch at the base of your spine as a short, muscular tail emerges from the bottom of your back. Your crotch doesn’t look so odd now that it’s surrounded by a pair of powerful equine thighs, that bulk up with each passing moment. In fact everything gets a little bit of a workout, with the muscles in your neck, rear and legs increasing in size. This is not the slow and gradual onset of symptoms that Time Turner was worried about, in a few minutes you are no longer human at all. You struggle to extract your from your overly huge pants and coat, only succeeding as Zecora grabs them with her teeth to keep them still as you push yourself out. You wobble onto all four of your brand spanking new legs and wobble your way to the nearest body of water. You look down into the reflective surface and see a new zebra looking back. Your mane is long and unruly, framing your wide and expressive eyes. Your field of vision has increased slightly, which is somewhat disorientating. Your body is covered in black and white stripes, and there’s a rune like marking on your butt like the one on Zecora’s. Zecora trots to your side and looks you over with her own appraising eye. “A zebra stallion of brawn and might, may I say it is a pleasing sight.” “You’re just complimenting yourself.” You know how weird it is to have your old voice coming out of a zebra’s face? It’s very weird. The pitch has changed due to your new body. You step back from the water before you fall in and drown yourself. “So we’re doing this, for real?” Zecora nods with a smile. “…Okay. But you have to show me how to be a zebra, right? I don’t know anything about using four legs.” “You are a man pushed into an unenviable position, to help you adapt will be my mission.” “Lead the way.” “…There is no need for us to seek the door, for the two of us are merely unconscious on the floor.” Oh. You forgot. Zecora hums to herself with a melodic tone, “To show you the basics is what is in question, may I air a peculiar suggestion?” “It can’t be any weirder than what just happened.” Zecora doesn’t wait for an answer, or to even explain what she intends to do. She simply pushes you onto your back and crawls over you until you’re face to face again. Even when you were human, you had to admit that Zecora’s curves had a certain effect on you. The smouldering look she’s shooting you with her lidded eyes is awakening something, that’s for sure. “Is your idea seriously just us having dream sex?” “I would have thought that you would think the same, but tell me the truth, can you complain?” You roll your eyes, “No.” Being in such close proximity to such a pretty lady, is it any wonder that your new member is poking out of its sheathe. Zecora doesn’t seem interested in much foreplay. She rubs against it until it reaches its full length and positions herself above you, you’re sure that this isn’t how non-bipedal creatures do it, but you aren’t going to tell the teacher how to do her job. Zecora is slow. She takes a lot of pleasure in making you feel every inch going inside, and not just in a physical sense. You can’t help but buck your hips slightly as you feel the pressure surround your erect member. She rocks her wide, bountiful hips as she acclimatizes to having you inside of her. You’re halfway to thinking un-sexy thoughts. The heat of the room in real life is getting to you, and to Zecora – her well styled mohawk is beginning to lose it’s form as your activity grows more carnal. A rogue strand of hair bends down and covers one of her cyan eyes. You let out a snort, the hot breath condensing into a cloud of steam in the chilly air. You can feel the undergrowth, the grass, the dirt, the branches, poking at your back, but your newly grown fur keeps it from being too uncomfortable. Zecora’s usually calm and collected face cracks under the pressure, her cheeks bloom a deep red as she shudders on your lap. You can’t let the poor woman do all of the hard work. While she tries to collect herself you strike like a coiled viper and flip her around onto her back, with you on top. Zecora doesn’t have the wits to speak in rhymes, so she doesn’t speak at all. She lets out a lustful moan as you begin to pump your hips. Your new equipment is a bit longer than your old little buddy, and much, much thicker. That increase in surface area has one important side effect – that being that this feels way too good! “I don’t know how long I can do this.” “The duration of your training is no matter, do as you will and release your batter.” Well, that’s an unfortunate line. In less sexy circumstances that would be the end of any bedroom fun going on. You’re too far gone to start laughing though, so you keep ploughing Zecora’s pussy with intent. The sensations that you feel are real, even though in real life you’re baked out of your mind on the floor of her house. You lean down and kiss her again as your thrusts begin to lose their own rhythm. You can feel the swell of an orgasm approaching you. Lost in the feeling of throwing yourself at her, the feeling of the forest around you, everything, you have no intent other than to cum inside of her winking pussy as the finale. You shudder and tense up as you blast the entrance to her womb with your cum. She curves her spine back as her own orgasm brings her to the apex, and back down again a moment later. You breath heavily as you nearly collapse on top of her. You steady yourself again and put your hooves on the ground next to her face. Zecora has never looked more beautiful than now. She’s a complete mess, her hair is ruined and it’s full of dirt and branches, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s intensely liberating in a way. Throwing away of politeness, of the normal standards that everybody else feels the need to follow. But again, this isn’t real. A shared dream between the two of you. You pull away and out of Zecora. Your half-hard shaft nearly swipes the floor as you stand up again. Zecora doesn’t feel the need to move from her spot on the floor for the moment. You try out your new body, circling around the clearing as your heart goes back to normal. This is still a dream; everything looks and feels real but there’s something off about it. The stench of cum tickles your sensitive nose, and it’s not nice. You go back to Zecora and pull her up to her hooves, before escorting her to the small pond that lies beyond the treeline. Normally you wouldn’t dare take a dip in this water, but with a little concentration its as clear as filtered tap water, without any of the mud or detritus that usually lurks beneath. Zecora sighs as she dips her messy lower half into the pool, “Lying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, it lifts to my heart to return your feelings.” You jump in behind Zecora and pull her into a wet hug. The smell of her fur is much more pleasant than your own jizz. Getting frisky with her in the water isn’t doing anything to quell your excitement, “If you’ll let me, I wouldn’t mind having this spot next to you.” Zecora leans in and whispers to you, “Breathing short and ears curled, let’s do this again in the waking world.” She kisses you once more, but you blink yourself awake. You aren’t getting it on with Zecora in the pond outside her home anymore. You’re in the hut, one leg wrapped around the snoring mare. The damage is clear. You have become a Zebra in reality too, you look down past your receding penis and down at your black hooves with wonder. That moment of wonder is cut short. Zecora is thankfully still unconscious next to you, because seem to have ejaculated all over Zecora’s lovely wooden floor in your sleep. “That’s fucking disgusting.” “So, in the end – she turned you into a Zebra?” You sit at Turner's table with a stupid grin, “Yep.” Time Turner frowns as he looks at your new striped body, “And you’re not upset about it?” “What do you mean?” He puts down his drink and begins to wave his arms, “From any normal perspective, having your entire body changed into a different species would upset most ponies. You don’t seem to be all that bothered about it!” “It’s okay,” You shrug. “…Why?” There’s a tense moment of silence in the bar as you work up the courage to admit the primary reason. “She’s a monster in bed.” Time Turner groans and slams his head down onto the table, “I should have known.” “Dude, seriously – you have no idea how good she is. She rides like a tiger.“ He cuts you off there, “Way too much information friend. Way too much.” Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. That's the end (?) for now. I might write one more quick epilogue chapter to wrap up things properly, but getting even this bit out was incredibly hard. I've lost my touch with writing sex scenes, so I tried to keep it concise so that this could come out eventually. I hope that you enjoyed this short TF adventure! Speaking of which, I'm holding a little event for you guys. I'm opening a suggestion box for people to send me their ideas, for a chance to have me fuck it up royally for you. This time it's open to everyone, so leave a comment on the above blog post with your idea, DM me here, or comment on the patreon post (only for supporters.) Thank you for reading, I hope you'll stick around and send me some of your ideas. Peace.
InvitationAuthor's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. Invitation There’s a mare who lives alone, deep in the forest on the outskirts of town. She’d lived there for many years without anyone knowing, eventually becoming the subject of vicious rumours about her work. A witch who’d curse the unknowing citizens of the town. While she was smart enough to do so – the reality was that she was not so malicious. Her name is Zecora, and you are one of her few real friends. You’d met her during one of her supply runs into town and got into an illuminating conversation about making medicine using the plants you can find around town. You’re something of a loner yourself, in the sense that you usually try to do everything yourself. Leaky roof? You’ll fix it yourself. Sick? You’ll concoct your own medicine. The second one is dangerous, you’ll admit. But your home is well kept, and your coin purse is always full. It’s amazing how much money you can save when you do things yourself. Even better – you can rent out your skills to anybody looking for them. One day you might be filling in at a bakery, the next you’ll be assembling furniture. You meet her every so often at the market. You take a bit of time out of your day to speak with her. It was during your regular back and forth with Zecora that she floated a strange idea. “A good sign for you my human friend, I wonder for you, will the stars bend?” “Hm, astrology?” The zebra snickers, “Among one of many ways, but only mine will avoid dismay. Come to my shack late tonight, stare at the sky and gain insight.” “Sounds interesting. What brought this on?” “A feeling of ill I foresee for you; I hope to avoid your face turning blue.” But she just said it was a good thing a second ago. “I usually make my own medicine you know.” She nods. “But if you insist. I’ve always wanted to see your home anyway.” “The forest bares many threats, before you leave settle your debts.” You laugh. Something that most ponies in town don’t know is that Zecora likes to tell a joke or two in her rhymes. They can get pretty morbid. It’s a nice change from how… nice everyone is. “I think I’ll be fine Zecora, I’m debt free.” Her tail flicks to the side. She pulls out a paper map and hooves it to you. It’s crude, but the landmarks make it clear that it leads to her home. “Many ponies fear the Everfree, you alone may find my tree.” “Alright, seems easy enough. I don’t think any of those monsters will want to mess with me anyway.” “A striking figure your body casts, let us see how long it lasts.” Forcing it a bit there Zecora. Sometimes her rhymes were less than sensical. In her own (lyrical) words, it’s part of their culture for shamans to rhyme in speech. As many of their incantations require it, it’s drilled into them from birth. The shaman life is passed down from generation to generation along with all of their knowledge and possessions. Zecora is not a traditionalist by any means. The shaman was usually a tribal leader - responsible for looking after the old and infirm and warding away evil spirits, which in Equestria and the wider world are very real and very dangerous. Her self-isolation was one of the biggest mysteries about her. You suspect that she has such a strong fascination for the Everfree and the knowledge therein, that she cast away tribal life to seek out answers. “A curious mind is the strongest weapon, steel your thoughts so they will not deaden.” That was one of the first things she ever said to you. It stuck out in your mind for some reason. It was emblematic of everything she spoke about and stood for. She was opened minded in a way that nobody else was. She didn’t scream or run away when she first saw you, and she listened to your mad ramblings about the wonders of modern technology with a smile on her face. “I’ll see you there.”
DivinationAuthor's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. Divination The Everfree forest is an intimidating place. The kind of intimidating that would scare young children. Curling branches and wildflowers, trees with faced contorted into agony. But for you this is nothing special. You elected to depart early, so as to avoid navigating the place at night. The path to Zecora’s hut was becoming well worn, regular visitors from the town would go to her for advice and to purchase her work but only if they felt brave enough. The tangled undergrowth poses no challenge for your lanky stature. The trees that would tower over a normal pony are half as intimidating as they should be. And the animals in the area rarely venture this far. That being said, it’s still much more dangerous than your average forest – and it makes sense to stay away from it in the dead of night. But this time, that’s why you’re here. You didn’t know that Zecora had an interest in Astrology, or whatever name she gave it, the principle is the same. In your old world you’d have scoffed at the idea and written it off – but this is a world of magic and spirits, so maybe her words have more truth to them than you realize. That curiosity is why you agreed to visit. Through the fading light of the evening you finally spot it, the soft glow of a yellow light breaking through the trees. You hop over one last log and enter a clearing, in the trunk of a great tree is a home made for one. With windows and a door, and open flames that might pose something of a problem inside a building made entirely of wood. But the inhabitant is not inside of the tree house, she is out front, whittling away the time by whittling a piece of wood into the form of a pony or zebra. You remain silent as you watch her chip away at the wood with a chisel, not wanting to break her concentration. Even so she speaks to you, “A visit from a friend in the dying light, I hope you don’t mind spending the night.” “If you’ve got a bed for me, I’d be happy to.” You take a seat on the ground next to her and look up to the sky. There are no electric lights out here, which means that there’s no light pollution. On a clear evening there’s a rich tapestry of stars painted across the night sky. It’s beautiful and awe inspiring, and it’s attributed to one Princess Luna. The extent of her influence on the night is in constant flux depending on who you ask. She can gaze into dreams and tear the power of fusion from the heart of a star, or she’s a rambling mad mare who is being played up by people who don’t know what she can really do. “So how does this work exactly?” “Inhale the smoke of a plant most bright, open your mind to an incredible sight.” She wants you to get absolutely rammed. A suspicious number of her remedies end with you inhaling something. “A single leaf of Dark’s Abarr will make you twist and bend the stars. A word from your mouth, an observation of fact, I will fill in for the knowledge you lack.” You might be a little bit too blazed to tell her what you’re seeing – but maybe there is a reason to the madness. You shoot the shit with your favourite Zebra for a while longer until the stars come out. She looks up, and nods. She leads you into the hut and pulls out a single purple leaf. Dark’s Abarr is one of the reagents you can only collect in the forest, named for the unfortunate fellow who consumed one of them and fell down a cliff. She lights a flame using a piece of dry kindling and a candle, holding the leaf over it until it catches alight. It lets out a plume of dark smoke. “Lean to me and inhale this deep, to grant the mind a restful sleep.” You hesitate as the acidic smell of the flower tickles your nose. But you trust Zecora to know more about this than you do. You dip inwards and allow it to fill your senses. It doesn’t have any immediate effect beyond smelling pretty bad. But when you pull away you feel a bit lightheaded. Zecora says nothing, extinguishing the flame and the leaf. She leads you outside where a cloth has been laid on the ground. You get down into a crawl and roll onto it. The night’s sky is in full bloom now. Zecora’s muzzle hovers at the edge of your vision. “Speak to me friend and do not delay, tell me what you see upon the milky way.” You remain tight lipped. You simply admire the twinkling stars above you. A cool breeze rolls through the clearing. You feel yourself slipping into a trance. The stars blur into white lines. You feel you grip on your surroundings falling away. Slipping… Slipping… A warm gust rolls over your body. “I’m alone.” A blazing field of orange grass. The shimmer of low-lying water. An oasis in the middle of a savannah. “That is not a strange thing to be, tell me now, what else do you see? You sit up and realize just how powerful this illusion is. It’s almost like you’re really here. You can feel the heat of the noon sun, and the way that the grass pokes and prods at your exposed skin. In the distance, a trail of smoke. Life. “There’s a fire.” On unsteady feet you walk, worried that at any moment you’ll fall over an unseen root or smack into a tree. The freedom of movement is beyond rationalisation. You walk for nearly five minutes until your target finally crests the horizon. A small hut made from mud and straw. A chimney pokes through it’s rustic façade. “And a home. I’m in some kind of savannah.” The words feel like cotton in your mouth. “The savannah is great and not for the meek, perhaps it is a zebra of courage you seek?” A zebra. Zebras have been on your mind recently. Haven’t they? You wonder if this place, a mockery of the savannahs of Africa conjured from childhood viewings of the Lion King, bore any resemblance to Zecora’s own homeland. “The only Zebra I know is you, Zecora.” She says nothing. You approach the entrance to the hut and pull away the beads that cover the door. Your anticipation is left wanting, as there is no one inside. The interior is similar to Zecora’s home, covered with various mementos designed to ward away spirits. You peruse the items, picking up a colourful totem in the visage of a rainbow striped Zebra. “A zebra with rainbow stripes huh?” “An odd colouration, but in life it would attract admiration. A blessing from the spirits – a prophet of beginnings, stay your hand and discard your winnings.” Translation: put it down and get on with it. You place the statue back into it’s rightful place and leave the way you came. But unlike the bright savannah that you started in; you instead cross the threshold into a bustling festival. It was so sudden that you almost missed it. You look back and see that the hut is gone, and there was no door to come through in the first place. Normally noticing something like that would wake you up. But the leaf you inhaled is known to calm the nerves, sometimes to dangerous effect. The festival is taking place in a village made of dozens of similar buildings. They are decorated with tapestries of complicated patterns. Zebras of all shapes and sizes dance and sing. Again – you aren’t sure whether there’s any truth to this. This is just the bias of a human’s brain. You’re not so presumptuous to think that Zebras are an analogue for people who lived in Africa. “There’s a village, and they’re having a party.” “A festival to celebrate a turning wheel, focus and regale, how do you feel?” As you watch them go about their business, you can’t help but feel a little jealous. You haven’t had the chance to celebrate with friends like this. Your entire social circle, and all of your family connections were wiped away. You had nobody. “I… I wish I could join in.” “Your admittance is a promising start, the greatest ill is a lonely heart. Yet still we venture on, there is much to see before the night is gone.” You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel a hoof touch your arm. You look down to meet the azure gaze of a zebra mare, she smiles, not displaying any fear to your alien appearance. Her mane is decorated and tied with golden bands. She speaks no words but pushes you deeper into the gathering until you’re brought to one of the fires. Several zebras busy their mouths and hooves decorating and trimming the others. She pats the dusty ground as if to motion you to sit with her. “A mare is offering me a place.” You sit down in front of her and bend your head so she can reach. She runs her hoof through your hair and begins speaking in a language you don’t understand. A muddled mess composed of terms you’ve heard from Zecora over the months but have yet to comprehend. “She’s doing something with my hair.” “To the vain a meaningless task, to the weary a bond that will last. To a place or a name we do not belong, through our similarities only do we grow strong.” You sit and bask in the heat of the fire. The mare seems to struggle to style your hair in the same way that the other Zebras do, it’s just too short to do much with. Having dreadlocks or a mohawk never appealed to you. She slicks back your fringe with some kind of gel and trims the sides, leaving it slightly shorter than when she started. A single white strange dangles in your periphery. White? Did the gel dye it too? You aren’t too concerned, none of this is real after all. But it’s a curious point. You’re almost certain that Zecora’s two tone mane is natural. A mirror is held up, and you admire the new style. It makes your forehead look way too big… and it has a bunch of white stripes in it. “An… interesting look.” “A question that I hope does not earn ire, is it the appearance of your heart’s desire?” “I never really thought about it.” “Not everything you see will be profound, do not fear taking new ground. The stars align for your sake alone, seek the ill for which you must atone.” Unless you find a vision of yourself in a hospital bed, it seems unlikely. “Didn’t you say that these visions were the future?” “A dash of truth in times of need, the eyes of another will plant the seed. A cryptic sight of a land unfound, open your ears and eyes to the sound.” So they’re a metaphor. Would it have killed her to put it bluntly for once? “I don’t see why hanging out at a Zebra party would reveal my future.” Zecora keeps any further explanation to herself. Leaving you to wander between the narrow pathways that are bustling with waist high zebras. There’s a band playing music in the middle of the village, and several partners dance and shuffle in a big circle around the central bonfire. “I’m getting flashbacks to my first party,” stood around on your own like an awkward moron. “These zebras have given you a chance, could you not join in and dance?” You run a hand through your hair, what a silly question! You’re way too tall for them! How could a biped dance with a quadruped anyway? You’d have to hold them up by their front legs and swing them around. You turn around and are suddenly face to face with the mare who styled your hair just a few moments ago. Her blue eyes light up with excitement. She says something and tugs on your arm, something doesn’t feel right. You follow her into the circle, noticing the appraising eyes of the other couples. They laugh and joke, and yell at her. She blushes bright red. “Speak with me now and do not sleep, there is a danger with falling too deep.” “A mare is trying to dance with me, she has a crush on me which is weird. Because I’m just a monkey man…” What in hell are you talking about? Zecora must be laughing her flank of out there. “…Do you think I’m attractive?” “A matter of anxiety, separated from society. For as broad as the ocean and deep as the sea, the judgement of others will cause them to flee. For a world apart conformity is the price, to see the faces of others and nice.” Not grammatically accurate, but you’ll give her one freebie. “Sometimes I feel like I want to ‘conform,’ but there’s not much I can do about it. The body isn’t as malleable as the mind. The best I can do is to put on a brave face and make my own friends.” The fires blur into lines. You stare into the eyes of your dancing partner. You move uncertainly, trying not to step on any of them. Not that it matters anymore – they’re the same height as you after all. Round and round. Round and round. You blink. The night sky greets you. “Zecora?” The mare hovers on the edge of your vision, “That felt real.” You’re back in the world of the living. “I’ve never felt anything like that. Not in my life.” She holds a hoof on your chest as you try to get up, shaking her head. “The leaf’s sight is still in effect, it’s hold on your senses you must respect.” You don’t really know what just happened. Did Zecora see you running and dancing in your sleep like a dog? Did you get magically transported to an insensitive pastiche of African clichés that your stupid brain stuck together? And how on earth is this related to Zecora worrying about your health? You have more questions than answers. Zecora doesn’t seem too forthcoming about answering them right now. “I feel fine Zecora. I still don’t get how this is meant to help though.” She smiles, “Immediate results the dream will not show, what you said was more revealing than you know. An ill of body may not be our quarry, an ill of the mind will be your inflammatory.” “So it’s a brain problem, because I’m pretty sure I already knew that I had that,” you joke. “Another sighting there will not be, this coming night visit my tree.” You groan and sit up, your sense of balance thrown into wack by lying down for too long. How long have you been here? She escorts you inside and allows you to climb onto a makeshift bed she’s constructed. You wish her a good night, but sleep doesn’t come so easily after that experience. A white strand. There’s a white strand there. What is that doing there? The white strand that’s above your head.
InfatuationAuthor's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. Infatuation You knew that something wasn’t right, but you couldn’t place it. When you woke up the next morning you could feel it. It wasn’t putting you off balance, or making you feel ill, but something was different. Different in a way you couldn’t explain. You worried to yourself that it was this foreboding illness that Zecora had alluded to the previous day. Speaking of Zecora, she seemed to be in a spirited mood when you awoke, laying out a breakfast for the two of you. She reserved any further comment on what happened the previous night until you’d finished. You hated eating at other pony’s houses in town because they always served salad, or salad that had been fried and compacted into a thin mockery of a hamburger. You like your fruit and veg, but not on it’s own, and not every day. Zecora has a novel solution. She likes to boil things into various kind of soup. It’d be mean to imply that it’s because of her job as a shaman. Zecora is an attentive mare and noticed how much more you enjoyed the warmer meals versus the cold ones. It made it a little more bearable. You put the bowls into a bucket of water when you finish. Zecora might live in a tree trunk but she likes things clean. “To see your skin is not pale or white, did you have a pleasant night?” “Yeah, no problems here. I mean, I feel a little different…” Zecora smiles but says nothing more. Which his strange. Zecora is a chatty zebra – she loves to talk your ear off about whatever she’s working on at the moment. The organized chaos taking place on all of her shelves suggests that she’s been commissioned for something. Zecora completes the rest of her morning routine as you sit back and wait. She fixes up her mane that was messed up in her sleep and adorns herself with the golden bands that usually cover her neck and leg, just the one leg and not any of the others. You feel like you’re intruding on something private because you are but Zecora never complains. “A chilly morning, but the sun blooms bright, may I make some use of your human might?” “Sure. I’m happy to give you a hand.” “Scour the forest and search for a seed, your severed limb I do not need.” “It’s a figure of speech Zecora, I say it all the time. What kind of seed are you looking for?” “A yellow seed that seldom lingers, a grain small enough to slip between your fingers. A single piece of Yellow Fright, for us to continue our night borne flight.” So she needs it to put you into a weed coma again? How complicated was this divination of hers. There is no time for questions as she picks up her bag and trots out the front door, you stumble after her and duck under the low ceiling. She was right, it’s much colder this morning. You shiver slightly as the cold air nips at your skin. “I wish I had fur sometimes. I’m curious, how does this reading work? Since I’m the one in the dream – what do you see?” “The stars are a canvas and your mind is a brush, they contact each other and come aflush. For a talented eye can see arisen, that which in a dream is usually hidden.” “So, just from what I described to you, you can look up and predict the future or something?” “A simple explanation will do for now, a tale for later is the matter of how. I do not wish to be aloof but let us focus on the task at hoof.” “Fine. Is this the spot?” Zecora has brought you out into a clearing. A gentle stream of clear water runs nearby. If it weren’t for the twisted trees it’d almost be a nice spot to get away from everything for a while. “Yellow Fright is an allusive foe, but where it grows is what I know.” Zecora, struggling to come up with a rhyme to properly explain, bends down and begins to rifle through the undergrowth. Rocks, leaves, branches, they’re all overturned and discarded into a nearby pile. That’s your cue to join in. For almost an hour you get down on your hands and knees and squint at the ground. Zecora was not joking when she described this stuff as elusive. Even worse was the idea that it could easily be blown away if you moved to hastily. “Why are we searching in this spot specifically? There aren’t any flowers here.” “A shifting tide that cycles anew, from what wind did the seed blew? There is nothing here now, but soon there will be, a field of flowers like a yellow sea.” “Wait, I found some!” Zecora trots over as you carefully and painstakingly turn over a small wooden log, revealing a small ditch filled with small seeds that have been blown through. Zecora wastes little time in gathering them. Your dexterous digits make the job much easier. “Alright, how many do we need?” “The find you present is no bluff, this amount is more than enough.” With a full load you both travel back to the hut. “I have some other things to do today, so I’m going to need to head out soon. Do you want me to come back here again tonight?” Zecora nods. “Alright, same time. I’ll see you then.” You shake your head as you walk down the well-trodden path back to town. Zecora’s assistance sure does take a long time… You need to complete some of your chores for the day. Food, cleaning the house, etc. Unfortunately the only good place in town to get bread is sugarcube corner. You resign yourself to your fate and walk through the front door. Pinkie waves from behind the counter. At least she didn’t pounce on you this time. “Morning Pinkie. Is it still morning? I lost track of time.” “My Pinkie clock says that it’s only ten! You’re fine! You look a bit messy, have you been on an adventure?” “You could call it that, Zecora wanted my help with something.” “You should have invited me! I love adventures.” Pinkie already knows what you want, she bags up a pair of loaves and hands them to you. She squints at you, “Did you do something with your hair? It’s all woah! Instead of being flat like plplplp.” Pinkie mimics the sound of a deflating balloon. “And that white stripe is pretty daring too! Do you think I could pull that off?” It’s just Pinkie being weird again. “No, I haven’t had a haircut in a while.” “Hm, if you say so!” You thank Pinkie again and allow the pony behind you to place their own order. What a weird girl. The rest of the day is similar though, with several acquaintances questioning why you have a new hairdo. You have no idea what they’re talking about. But it persists, there isn’t a single pony who doesn’t comment on it. You feel like you’re being targeted with some kind of weird rumour or prank. By the time you get home you’ve definitely gotten tired of hearing it. You sigh, put away your purchases and rush into the bathroom. You didn’t realize how dirty you were from all that effort. You bathe yourself and put on a fresh set of clothes. Finally you walk over to the mirror and look at yourself. Normal face, normal body, stripy hair… Now that you mention it, something does feel strange. But you still can’t place what it is. It’s really frustrating, you should know this. It’s on the tip of your tongue. No it’s not. It’s gone. Slipped away from you. Whatever, you’re getting worked up over nothing. You’re going to Zecora’s again later. It’s time to clean up the place. And maybe take a jacket if it’s going to be cold again. You idly wonder how many times you’ll need to undergo her “treatment” until she reaches a conclusion.
CivilizationYou find yourself back on your back. Staring at the stars that Zecora has become so transfixed with recently. You have to ask yourself if this is really for your sake and not hers. A cool breeze blows through the clearing by Zecora’s hut. It’s not unpleasant since you remembered to bring a coat, “Having fur must be convenient, no need for coats or anything.” “A layer of fur keeps the chill at bay, but still we shiver on the coldest of days.” “I guess even ponies need a coat sometimes.” Zecora lays out a small pot filled with some kind of herb next to your head. “Do you think you’ll find out the problem this time?” “An answer at once I cannot relay, will you make do with a small delay?” “Sure, I guess. Everybody in town was acting strange earlier though. They were acting like I’d gotten a haircut when no one was looking.” Zecora glances down at you from the corner of her cyan eyes, she is focused on the task at hand but seems to find the thought amusing, judging by the smirk on her muzzle. Without another word she ignites the bowl with a candle and hands… hoofs it to you. You hold it on your chest and allow the fumes to wash over you. You silently hope that these aren’t harmful. You’re stood in the middle of town, wait a minute – weren’t you just at Zecora’s tree? You look around and see the usual ponies going about their routines. Did you hit your head or something? “Zecora?” you whisper. “Do not bray and cower in fear, your guide to the stars and fate is here.” “Oh good, I was worried I’d just hallucinated half of my day, and I do not want to go shopping again.” You begin to wander the façade of the town with a nervous smile. You know that the ponies around you aren’t real, but you still feel the need to keep up appearances and act normally. What would it say about you if you just decided to punt Twilight up the ass when she can’t retaliate? There is something different though, at first you don’t notice, but when you try to enter Sugarcube Corner and nearly knock yourself out on the doorframe you figure it out. “Why is the door so short?” You have to bend over to get through the damn thing. You know for a fact that despite the short stature of most ponies that the doors are tall enough for you still. You take a step back and look around, noticing a similar trend amongst all of the businesses and homes in your field of view. None of the ponies pay you much mind as you stagger about like a lost tourist. “This is kind of freaking me out,” you muse. Everything seems to be a little bit shorter than it usually is. “To be heard is to be believed, so tell me what it is that you see?” “Well, it’s just Ponyville, but all of the doors are too short. Shorter than they usually are.” You look down at yourself – you aren’t any taller, everything else has gotten smaller. You nearly jump out of your own skin as you feel a hoof touch your leg. It’s Pinkie, and you can tell that she’s gotten smaller too, where she usually reaches up to your crotch area, she now only meets your knees. “Wow! You’re super-duper tall now! Did you have a growth spurt?” “No Pinkie. Did you change the front door at Sugarcube corner.” “Hm. I don’t think so! Ms Cake was very upset at me the last time I tried to remodel without her permission!” In typical Pinkie fashion, implying that she’s tried that kind of stunt multiple times. It takes you a moment to remember that this isn’t real and that you just made the entire thing up. “It’s kind of inconvenient isn’t it? I have to duck down to even get inside.” “Hm. True! But this is Ponyville after all, there aren’t any swell folk who are tall like you! Here, take this as an apology.” Pinkie pulls out a cupcake and hands it to you, “Oh, thank you.” You take a bite, but your teeth meet something disagreeable. You spit it out into your hand and notice that the normally digestible cake is mixed with short strands of hay. You know that the ponies enjoy hay, but there was always food available that didn’t have any in it… “Hey Pinkie, I can’t eat hay.” “Huh, really? That doesn’t sound right to me, especially with those big chompers of yours! Go on, give it another try!” For some reason you find the idea perfectly reasonable. You throw the half-chewed piece onto the ground and take a fresh bite. Whereas before it scraped against the soft skin on the inside of your mouth, and got caught between your teeth, now you find it easy to mash up and swallow. And dare you say, it even tastes good. “You were right. I guess I was just being a picky eater.” Pinkie smiles, “See? It’s easy If you try!” You chuckle, “You really opened my eyes to a whole new world of food. Thanks.” But when you look down, she’s gone. She didn’t even stick around to hear you say thanks, typical Pinkie. She’s probably hounding some other poor pony on the other side of town. “The words you speak are that of mystery, perhaps influenced by recent history.” You almost forgot that Zecora was listening to you talk, “Pinkie just taught me to appreciate a new type of food, that’s all. I don’t know if it’ll carry over into real life…” “We are creatures that exist to feel - sometimes a dream is as good as real.” “Hm. Well, I hope I don’t get stabbed then.” “To peer inside your mind if I may, on this matter what have you to say?” “I suppose with the doors and the food – this dream has something to do with feeling out of place? Like being inconvenienced in lots of little ways.” “A feeling of rejection will turn any creature blue, is this the feeling that always plagues you?” “Sometimes. But I know that the doors in real life are tall enough for me, I think my mind is playing tricks on me.” “Reality and dream may not always align - but every sight and sound is a sign. To delve into the depths of one’s own heart is the path that leads to a preordained start. We gaze at the stars and seize upon our mind, a tapestry of feeling from the finest twine.” “I get it Zecora. It’s just that it’s hard to admit that you feel out of place to other people. You want to put on a brave face for your friends.” She is right. There are lots of things that chip away at your spirit. The way that some of the ponies try to avoid eye contact with you or move away to the other side of the road like you’re a wild dog. The way that most menus at the restaurants are filled with hay. How hard it is to get your hands on some damn fish to keep things fresh. Everything has to be an inconvenience, a journey that can take hours to solve properly. Zecora had told you the tale before. Even she, a native of the land that you find yourself in – faced a similar situation filled with rumour and innuendo. It surprised you for a moment, but then it started to remind you of how people were back home. They’d act polite to your face and get the knives out when your back was turned. “But I’m sure it’s not as bad as what you had to deal with. Since I was an alien, they put on a polite face for me. It’s strange, but you being from this world made you more of a stranger than me.” “This is a tale long covered by rust, by it’s circulation I have your trust?” “Psh. Trust? I’ve been spilling my deepest darkest secrets to you in a drugged-up haze for two nights in a row. I think we’re a bit past trust at this point,” you don’t feel like you’ve been drugged though. Perhaps that’s how everyone experiencing a high feels. The answers come quickly; you feel in control. “Once upon a time the thought made me weep, but we all have things that keep us from sleep. Confront the ordeal with a head held high – and the ponies will realize there is no reason why.” “You’re a braver mare than me. I mean, I’m not a mare at all, but you get the point.” For some reason you find that hilarious and burst out into a barking laughter. You double over, but when you stand back up you find your eyeline lower than you remember. How odd! Those small pony doorframes don’t pose so much of a problem anymore. Small victories should be taken in stride. You look down at your hands and notice discolouration beginning to seep in. It’s almost like you’re covered in jagged bruises that lay deep under the skin. The shape and neatness of them though, you didn’t get those bruises from a fight or falling down some stairs. “Trippy.” You discard your worries and smile, there’s nothing to worry about! It’s just that stuff that Zecora is burning getting into your head again. None of this is real. “Hey Zecora, you should tell me more about your home sometime. I can tell you about mine as well if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s really interesting…” Zecora doesn’t answer. You find yourself back in a familiar village. The sun is shining bright and the decorations that adorned the buildings and posts have been taken down. Oh, it’s your lovely Africa-amalgamation again, the one with all the Zebras and free hair styling! You were thinking about Zecora’s home, so it follows that this change of scenery is your fault. You doubt that Zecora’s home is anything like this. This is just something that your imagination conjured up. A fever dream of sub-Saharan documentaries and stereotypes. Zecora doesn’t help dispel that image with all of her wooden masks and trinkets. You feel comfortable here. You walk between the tents on wooden boards laid down to make the soft ground navigable. Zebras go about their daily business, selling wares, talking with friends, gathering around fires and eating. It’s like a big camp out. If all the campers were chest high Zebras. Chest high? You feel a muzzle poke at your back. You spin around and meet the gaze of the mare who so graciously styled your hair the last time you visited. She seems excited to see you – her eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky. Her pushes become insistent as she leads you to one of the fires. The zebras say something in their language; judging from their tone they’re happy to see you again. You’re handed a cup of something. It’s lukewarm and tickles your nose with a bitter scent. Not wanting to be a rude guest you down it in one go and nearly gag, it’s alcoholic! She pats you on the back as you try to get air into your windpipe again. The others laugh and jeer, some trying to emulate the feat themselves. Your surroundings begin to blur. A small spark of worry fills the back of your mind – Zecora has been strangely quiet for a long time now. Not that it matters. The party is getting good and you’ve got a good buzz coming on from all this zebra booze. The fire illuminates the zebras, a veil of dark grasping the savannah. The zebra mare rubs against you and leads you away, the group cheers and hollers again. She leads you to a small tent away from the commotion of the ongoing party. She pushes you inside and you stumble down onto a blanket made from animal fur. “Oh man, I had too much to drink. Hey!” The mare turns you over and begins to pull down your pants. You reach out and touch her, to push her away and maintain your dignity. But that harsh touch turns into a soft caress. The fur feels so good underneath your fingers. She blushes and smiles, pierced ears flicking in delight. The thought that you’re about to get your dick sucked off by a zebra mare does not register at some point. Hot breath splashes against your exposed member. You’re not one to brag or to downplay his own size, but you’re pretty certain that you aren’t going to be pleasing any pony with your penis right now. The simple fact of the matter is that four-legged creatures have big old herbivore dicks, and you have an apex predator monkey wiener that’s designed to not get crushed when you sit on a chair. Your partner does not seem to care. Her thick, broad tongue slips out and meets your shaft. It’s warm, really warm! You continue to play with her ears and fur as she gives you an impromptu blowjob. You feel the sweat running from her fur, the evening humidity getting to the both of you. A splotch of black slips from between her muzzle and the pleasure ceases. You look down, initially thinking that you simply saw one of her stripes, but instead your penis is now afflicted with the same condition as your arms and legs. It’s thicker, angry, and veiny. Where before it comfortably sat between your legs, now it bulges from between your thighs in a battle for what little space is available. “Uh, is that supposed to happen?” She giggles and your heart skips a beat – well there’s nothing wrong with it per se. You can live with it for now while you have your fun at least! She struggles to take the newly enhanced length into her muzzle, her throat bulging slightly as the tip slips past her tonsils. You gasp, fingers digging into the furs surrounding you. And just like that, the fun stops. You blink and shudder as an orgasm rocks your body. Pins and needles run across your body. You break into a cold sweat and lose focus of what you were doing. You blink. A striped face hovers over you, framed by a clear night sky. She smiles and you smile back. But it isn’t the face from before. This is someone new. You mumble, “Huh, Zecora?” Your eyes slip shut. Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon.
MaterializationYou’re being watched. Wooden masks twisted into scornful scowls surround you on all sides. You feel like you’re being pricked with a thousand little needles, all over the surface of your skin. Zecora is nowhere to be seen. You wrestle your neck into upwards movement and scan the inside of her small abode. “Zecora?” You reach up and feel at your face. Everything seems to be in order still. You swing your legs out of bed and try not to throw up in the process. Your sense of balance is all out of whack and you have no idea why. Was it the aftereffects of the drugs that Zecora had given you? Your tail idly sways behind you. What happened to your clothes? You’re naked as a new-born baby. You glance down at your crotch, legs spread slightly to give space for your frankly oversized penis. What an absurd thing. What manner of creature has a penis that is too big for it’s body? That’s so large that it gets in the way of everyday activities. You stand up and grasp it before it swings away and shatters something important. God knows how you’d explain the damage to Zecora should the worst happen. Sorry Zecora, buddy, pal, my gigantic black dick just slapped one of your valuable artefacts and threw it to the ground. You scour the hut to try and find your clothes but find nothing. Damn it, you can’t leave without them! You gather your nerve and tiptoe to the front door. You unlock the latch and peel it open. You take a cautious glance into the forest, and satisfied that nobody is around to see your shame and pride, step out into the front clearing, “Zecora? Did you take my clothes?” With no answer forthcoming you retreat back inside. Zecora might be eccentric sometimes, but she’d not be immature enough to pull a silly prank like this. For all you know she must have taken them to clean them off while you were asleep, like a good friend would after a drug fuelled dream bender. You blush as your begin to piece together some of the… thoughts that the herbs had induced in you. You hope you didn’t mouth some of that to Zecora. While she expected honesty, she certainly did not want to hear your stupid wet dream fantasy at a time of importance. You don’t usually think much about your four-legged townsmen in a sexual way. But there was just something about the way that the zebra mare took you along. By the time she started to act you didn’t even care anymore. This is not the time to be popping a boner in your friend’s house. Not the time at all. Your heart drops into your stomach and out of your ass as you hear the door open from the outside. You dive back under the covers on the bed and try to keep your crotch from sight. Zecora places her saddlebag down next to the cauldron and shoots you a coy smile. She’s trying to give you a god damn heart attack. “Awake and aware at least I see, a precious guest in the heart of my tree. Although you may know that I am no prude, I know you as well are not as comfortable nude. I departed to the lake unknown to most, to clean your clothes as a gracious and kind host.” Zecora hands you the saddlebag and you pull out your formerly dirty clothes, “Oh, thank you. I was getting worried that you were pulling a prank on me for a second there.” “I did not expect you to waken so soon, not at least till the passing of noon.” “…Zecora, say it to me straight – what is this really all about? Are you really trying to see the future, or divine the stars, or cure me of a mystery illness?” “The measures I take are not false or lame, the dreams you show me are not made in vain. Illness of body or illness of mind, these are the things that will be divined. The stars have shown me a branch of your tree, a path you may walk or turn from and flee. You are blind to the truth now, but not forever, there are ties to the past that you must sever.” “Something doesn’t feel right, what did those herbs do to me?” “The words I speak will not stay in mind, that is what to you are purposefully blind. The things you feel and the changes to face, it is up to you to decide their pace.” “How can I decide a pace if I don’t even know what you’re doing?” you sigh. Zecora’s eyes narrow with menace, her hooves shoot forward and rip the blanket away from your naked body, “Woah! Hold on, Zecora!” You try and fail to cover your semi-erect member with your hands, which are just too small to cover it effectively. Zecora seems pleased with it, or at the very least she doesn’t complain about your nudity. “Your lower half betrays your honesty; you care little for protecting your modesty.” You don’t know what to say. But you aren’t stupid enough to imply that Zecora isn’t interested. It’s still a bit of a shock. Why would she be interested in a guy like you? Because you spend some time together? You never got much of a romantic impression from her. But on further thought you realize that it isn’t so strange at all. You and Zecora are both outsiders to the town in a lot of ways. Zecora is a native of this world, unlike you, but even she isn’t immune from the suspicion and forgery of the gossip machine. While everyone puts on a friendly face for you, you can’t but feel that they’re afraid of you. Some of them don’t even give you that courtesy. But does that mean you should leap at the chance to sleep with her? You aren’t so sure. It seems that it doesn’t matter what you think though, as Zecora leans down and plants the tip of her muzzle on the base of your member. “I hope you do not find me out of line, but the musk of this shaft is simply divine.” Zecora doesn’t await permission, she cuts through your differing objections by planting her mouth on the flared tip of your cock and going on the attack. You grip the sheets as your overly sensitive cock is assaulted by her skilled tongue. A tinge of familiarity strikes you. This entire situation reminds you of the dream you had last night. You exhale as Zecora takes you deep into her throat. You reach out and touch the back of her head, feeling the soft fur and egging her on to go further. Her pierced ears flick and swivel as if to keep track of the noises you’re making. She’s enjoying this. “Z-Zecora, I don’t think I can hold on.” She pulls back, still connected to you via a line of drool. Her hooves dart down and pull out a small glass jar. She places it down on the tip of your cock, and the feeling of the cool glass pushes you over the edge. You grunt as you let out a bestial load, far larger than any you’ve ever let out before. Zecora smiles as if she was outside picking plants. When you finally finish, she corks the stuff up and slides it back under the bed. “Zecora.” She nods. “Why?” “Romantic as I may be, I will not turn down a good regent for free.” “…What exactly do you use cum for?” Zecora just laughs at you. You sigh and run a hand through your hair, briefly brushing against your own ears. This mare is just a total mystery to you sometimes. Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. I got a part time job finally, pretty tough times to be looking for work though. I wanted to make decent money off my writing but obivously that's a pipe dream right now. Fimfiction is a pretty limited audience, even moreso given my choice of genre. Thanks for reading again. I'm trying to wrap this story up soon.
Realization“Buddy, we need to talk.” Time Tuner peers up from beneath chest height. It was your usual routine of hanging out with your good friend on a Saturday. Something had felt off recently, but you just couldn’t put your finger on what it was. “…Is this about my crippling fur stroking addiction.” “That’s kind of weird, but no. It’s about something else.” You scratch the back of your head, “So what is it?” Your ears flick as they pick up the subtle sounds of the town outside. Turner had asked you to drop by his house first before you did anything else. Every wall is covered top to bottom with clocks and watches that he’s been working on for his clients. He glances up at your head and scowls. “Okay, seriously. That Zecora mare has done something to you.” “Like what?” “Come on man! Look at yourself in the mirror for Celestia’s sake, you have zebra ears, and stripy hair!” “Is there something wrong with trying a new look every now and then?” He slams his hooves onto the kitchen table, “Getting a manecut is trying a new look, having your body changed through witchcraft is certainly not.” “It’s not witchcraft, you’re being judgemental.” “Then what is it?” “She’s just really good with plants and chemicals and shit. And for that matter – we’re living in a world where your average pony has the ability to levitate things, what the hell do you mean witchcraft?” Time Turner ignores you and pulls out a hand mirror, shoving it into your palms, “Look. Please.” “I don’t see the problem.” “You didn’t have zebra ears a few days ago.” Suddenly it clicks, “…Oh.” But short of revulsion or anger, the only emotion you feel is… apathy. Like this is the way things have always been. But at the same time you’re now aware that Zecora has done something to your body. “I guess that’s why people keep mentioning that huh.” “Oh thank goodness, finally.” You put the mirror back down and shrug, “Alright. Maybe I do need to go have a chat with her.” “What if she throws you into a cauldron and boils the skin off your bones?” “…You really don’t know much about Zecora. Do you? You know that kind of rumour mongering really upsets her.” Time Turner’s ear flatten, “Oh, I suppose you’re right. I’m sure you’ll be able to smooth things out with her.” Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. So, when Starring Stripes wraps up (which I'm trying to do soon - this story is intended to be pretty to the point) I'm thinking of finally hosting a suggestion box on the patreon since it's one of the things I promised. Mainly because I'm out of bloody ideas. Originally I wanted more people to take part, but I suppose it's a lose-lose situation if I just keep waiting for more people to sign up. So, if you'd like to take part, the lowest tier is 2 bucks per chapter (you can limit how much you pay though.)
ActualizationThe path to Zecora’s home is familiar now. Even with the dying light of winter’s evening sun, you can easily navigate your way through the maze-like trees and thick underbrush of the forest. The last thing you want right now is time to think. Because the longer you do, the less you find yourself capable of being upset with Zecora. You need to hear it from the mare herself. Did she mean for this to happen? The light of her abode cuts through the branches like a knife. You come out into the clearing and take a deep breath to try and clear away some of the anxiety clutching your chest. You knock on the door and step back. A few seconds later it opens to reveal Zecora. She isn’t wearing her usual distinct mohawk, her hair lies flat across her head like many of the other ponies in town. That being said, her mane grows differently to the other ponies – it’s more like what you’d expect from an equine. “Zecora, can we talk?” She steps out of the doorway and allows you to enter the hut. The door closes, trapping the hot air inside and allowing you to get some comfort back after the long walk in the cold. You take off your coat and leave it on the bed. There’s a lot you need to say, but you don’t know where to start. The way that Zecora had gotten… intimate with you the last time you were here was a surprise. Does she feel for you in that way? Or was it just a bout of madness? “Ask me a question and I will not lie; I can see the sparking anger in your eyes.” Zecora keeps a respectful distance from you as you try to work your way through what you want to say. You pace around the room, your mind awash with a million separate thoughts. “I… I noticed. That I was changing. A friend talked me out of whatever stupor I was in. And the only thing I can think of is that it’s your fault. I guess it’s pretty obvious now, anyway. The first question is, why?” “I did as I did with no intention to wrong, I simply wished to give you a place to belong.” “Did you know that this would happen?” Zecora takes a moment to think on her answer, or to come up with a rhyme that can explain it. “The treatment I prescribed can cure many an ill, but the outcome is dependent on the patient’s heart and will. You felt like an outsider, looked down on by others, the magical power of my root sought to grant you many brothers.” “…There’s only one other Zebra around here, and she’s a mare.” You sit down on the bed and sigh, “Well, I guess there isn’t much to do about it now – unless you have an antidote lying here somewhere that can undo it.” “While I understand your desire for space, an easy out is simply not the case. Before you is a road split in twain, each one leads to a new tinge of pain. Abandon yourself and start anew or suppress your desire and allow it to stew.” “So what I’m taking away from this is that I’m stuck with the zebra dick and the floppy ears.” Zecora nods again. You throw your hands up, “Oh for fuck’s sake. Well, I don’t want to be some weird half and half zebra man if I don’t have to be.” Zecora pulls something down from one of her shelves. It’s what’s left of the plants that you gathered with her. “If your resolve is strong and your heart is set, we can end this façade and burn the rest. A new form you will be given, one that fits this world true, and only then will you not feel blue.” You know that she’s right. You never felt like you fit in with the ponies in town. It’s an irrational fear, but a fear nonetheless. “Zecora. This isn’t just about that, is it?” If she wanted to respond, she doesn’t. She places the bowl on a small table and motions you to it. You kneel down in front of it as Zecora sets it alight. She remains silent as the smoke begins to fill the room with the smell of ash. “No matter the form, your affection would matter, but with the form of your body, I could not be anything but flattered.” The smoke fills the room, and you realize now that Zecora will also be affected by the power of the plant. Zecora doesn’t see fit to object or flee, she closes her eyes and allows it to wash over her. “I came on a long journey from the West, and thought that isolation suited me best. But I was wrong and foolish, I did not know rest, to be alone was a difficult test.” A quilt of stars hangs over you. There, peering through the darkness is a familiar mare. Zecora. She stands before a carefully constructed village in the middle of rolling plains. Orange strands of grass surround a small watering hole. Trees in a circle, many of them used as structures to construct huts similar to her own. To an uneducated observer it’s almost like the trunks sprouted through the buildings and out of their roofs. “For the years from my birth this was my home, the anointed place where the Westward winds had blown. My family the village shaman, both trusted and wise, but my young eye sought an even greater prize.” Another Zecora, wearing a cloak and covered in bags that must contain all of her worldly possessions, emerges from one of the houses and begins the long walk to her destination. Flashes of new places and people fly by – are these her memories? Or just your interpretation of things again? You flash forward to the forest again, in front of Zecora’s hut. But this isn’t the real one. “A grove where secrets and monsters lurk, I made the Everfree forest my place of work. Flora and fauna not once seen by my people, I would find them, blood, muscle and sepal.” You suddenly feel off balance. You fall down onto your hands and knees as the muscles begin to cramp up. You feel a pressure pulling on them until they’re taut, like the strings of a guitar. You cannot begin to describe how strange this feels. Everything is wrong, somehow. Your legs are wrong, your arms are wrong. Your fingers feel like they’ve been left out in the cold for too long. “No backing out now.” “Where we are now is at is seems, the power of this plant is to connect our dreams.” You’re back in your old home. Nothing has changed since then. But it’s empty. Empty of the people that you knew, who’ll never see you again pending another stroke of chance. You groan as you feel your body shifting again, your jaw elongates and pushes outwards, pulling your nose with it until it forms a gross half-human muzzle. The magic at play quickly sets about correcting that mistake, white fur begins to sprout from under the skin and covers the stretched flesh at a rapid clip. “I miss my old place, I really do. But I have to make the best of where I am now. I don’t want to live trying to keep myself ready to lose everything again, I want to throw myself into everything I do every single day.” “A heart and mind embroiled by woe, cease your worries and simply let go.” You close your eyes and imagine it, what it would be like to be eye to eye with all of the ponies that you’ve met over the past year. Your friends, your neighbours. They’d have accepted you no matter what, but you want to walk a mile in their horseshoes for once. You don’t want to have to explain yourself to others anymore. Zecora floats to the surface again. You can never seem to avoid thinking of her at times like this. Her wisdom, her words, they all mean so much to you. If you were one tenth the person that she was, you’d have made all the difference in the world. But you still have that chance, there’s still an entire lifetime stretching out in front of you, waiting to be used for something great. She kisses you. You push back against the pressure on your chest. This is a battle that you cannot win. Her tongue invades your muzzle and duels with your own, hot breath splashes over your face as she blows air out of her nose to try and keep her breathing under control. You open your eyes and look at her, “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” “Every action leaves it’s own wake, but you did not accept this just for my sake…” “Maybe not, but right now – you’re the only thing I can think about. So this is for you Zecora.” Zecora grows larger by the moment, the volume and area of your chest shrinking down smaller and smaller. Your arms aren’t arms any longer. Your fingers recede into your palm, and the skin becomes hardened as a layer of nail magically hardens over the top of it. You feel a pinch at the base of your spine as a short, muscular tail emerges from the bottom of your back. Your crotch doesn’t look so odd now that it’s surrounded by a pair of powerful equine thighs, that bulk up with each passing moment. In fact everything gets a little bit of a workout, with the muscles in your neck, rear and legs increasing in size. This is not the slow and gradual onset of symptoms that Time Turner was worried about, in a few minutes you are no longer human at all. You struggle to extract your from your overly huge pants and coat, only succeeding as Zecora grabs them with her teeth to keep them still as you push yourself out. You wobble onto all four of your brand spanking new legs and wobble your way to the nearest body of water. You look down into the reflective surface and see a new zebra looking back. Your mane is long and unruly, framing your wide and expressive eyes. Your field of vision has increased slightly, which is somewhat disorientating. Your body is covered in black and white stripes, and there’s a rune like marking on your butt like the one on Zecora’s. Zecora trots to your side and looks you over with her own appraising eye. “A zebra stallion of brawn and might, may I say it is a pleasing sight.” “You’re just complimenting yourself.” You know how weird it is to have your old voice coming out of a zebra’s face? It’s very weird. The pitch has changed due to your new body. You step back from the water before you fall in and drown yourself. “So we’re doing this, for real?” Zecora nods with a smile. “…Okay. But you have to show me how to be a zebra, right? I don’t know anything about using four legs.” “You are a man pushed into an unenviable position, to help you adapt will be my mission.” “Lead the way.” “…There is no need for us to seek the door, for the two of us are merely unconscious on the floor.” Oh. You forgot. Zecora hums to herself with a melodic tone, “To show you the basics is what is in question, may I air a peculiar suggestion?” “It can’t be any weirder than what just happened.” Zecora doesn’t wait for an answer, or to even explain what she intends to do. She simply pushes you onto your back and crawls over you until you’re face to face again. Even when you were human, you had to admit that Zecora’s curves had a certain effect on you. The smouldering look she’s shooting you with her lidded eyes is awakening something, that’s for sure. “Is your idea seriously just us having dream sex?” “I would have thought that you would think the same, but tell me the truth, can you complain?” You roll your eyes, “No.” Being in such close proximity to such a pretty lady, is it any wonder that your new member is poking out of its sheathe. Zecora doesn’t seem interested in much foreplay. She rubs against it until it reaches its full length and positions herself above you, you’re sure that this isn’t how non-bipedal creatures do it, but you aren’t going to tell the teacher how to do her job. Zecora is slow. She takes a lot of pleasure in making you feel every inch going inside, and not just in a physical sense. You can’t help but buck your hips slightly as you feel the pressure surround your erect member. She rocks her wide, bountiful hips as she acclimatizes to having you inside of her. You’re halfway to thinking un-sexy thoughts. The heat of the room in real life is getting to you, and to Zecora – her well styled mohawk is beginning to lose it’s form as your activity grows more carnal. A rogue strand of hair bends down and covers one of her cyan eyes. You let out a snort, the hot breath condensing into a cloud of steam in the chilly air. You can feel the undergrowth, the grass, the dirt, the branches, poking at your back, but your newly grown fur keeps it from being too uncomfortable. Zecora’s usually calm and collected face cracks under the pressure, her cheeks bloom a deep red as she shudders on your lap. You can’t let the poor woman do all of the hard work. While she tries to collect herself you strike like a coiled viper and flip her around onto her back, with you on top. Zecora doesn’t have the wits to speak in rhymes, so she doesn’t speak at all. She lets out a lustful moan as you begin to pump your hips. Your new equipment is a bit longer than your old little buddy, and much, much thicker. That increase in surface area has one important side effect – that being that this feels way too good! “I don’t know how long I can do this.” “The duration of your training is no matter, do as you will and release your batter.” Well, that’s an unfortunate line. In less sexy circumstances that would be the end of any bedroom fun going on. You’re too far gone to start laughing though, so you keep ploughing Zecora’s pussy with intent. The sensations that you feel are real, even though in real life you’re baked out of your mind on the floor of her house. You lean down and kiss her again as your thrusts begin to lose their own rhythm. You can feel the swell of an orgasm approaching you. Lost in the feeling of throwing yourself at her, the feeling of the forest around you, everything, you have no intent other than to cum inside of her winking pussy as the finale. You shudder and tense up as you blast the entrance to her womb with your cum. She curves her spine back as her own orgasm brings her to the apex, and back down again a moment later. You breath heavily as you nearly collapse on top of her. You steady yourself again and put your hooves on the ground next to her face. Zecora has never looked more beautiful than now. She’s a complete mess, her hair is ruined and it’s full of dirt and branches, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s intensely liberating in a way. Throwing away of politeness, of the normal standards that everybody else feels the need to follow. But again, this isn’t real. A shared dream between the two of you. You pull away and out of Zecora. Your half-hard shaft nearly swipes the floor as you stand up again. Zecora doesn’t feel the need to move from her spot on the floor for the moment. You try out your new body, circling around the clearing as your heart goes back to normal. This is still a dream; everything looks and feels real but there’s something off about it. The stench of cum tickles your sensitive nose, and it’s not nice. You go back to Zecora and pull her up to her hooves, before escorting her to the small pond that lies beyond the treeline. Normally you wouldn’t dare take a dip in this water, but with a little concentration its as clear as filtered tap water, without any of the mud or detritus that usually lurks beneath. Zecora sighs as she dips her messy lower half into the pool, “Lying on the floor, looking at the ceiling, it lifts to my heart to return your feelings.” You jump in behind Zecora and pull her into a wet hug. The smell of her fur is much more pleasant than your own jizz. Getting frisky with her in the water isn’t doing anything to quell your excitement, “If you’ll let me, I wouldn’t mind having this spot next to you.” Zecora leans in and whispers to you, “Breathing short and ears curled, let’s do this again in the waking world.” She kisses you once more, but you blink yourself awake. You aren’t getting it on with Zecora in the pond outside her home anymore. You’re in the hut, one leg wrapped around the snoring mare. The damage is clear. You have become a Zebra in reality too, you look down past your receding penis and down at your black hooves with wonder. That moment of wonder is cut short. Zecora is thankfully still unconscious next to you, because seem to have ejaculated all over Zecora’s lovely wooden floor in your sleep. “That’s fucking disgusting.” “So, in the end – she turned you into a Zebra?” You sit at Turner's table with a stupid grin, “Yep.” Time Turner frowns as he looks at your new striped body, “And you’re not upset about it?” “What do you mean?” He puts down his drink and begins to wave his arms, “From any normal perspective, having your entire body changed into a different species would upset most ponies. You don’t seem to be all that bothered about it!” “It’s okay,” You shrug. “…Why?” There’s a tense moment of silence in the bar as you work up the courage to admit the primary reason. “She’s a monster in bed.” Time Turner groans and slams his head down onto the table, “I should have known.” “Dude, seriously – you have no idea how good she is. She rides like a tiger.“ He cuts you off there, “Way too much information friend. Way too much.” Author's Note A huge thank you to: Evo Korenav For supporting me on patreon. That's the end (?) for now. I might write one more quick epilogue chapter to wrap up things properly, but getting even this bit out was incredibly hard. I've lost my touch with writing sex scenes, so I tried to keep it concise so that this could come out eventually. I hope that you enjoyed this short TF adventure! Speaking of which, I'm holding a little event for you guys. I'm opening a suggestion box for people to send me their ideas, for a chance to have me fuck it up royally for you. This time it's open to everyone, so leave a comment on the above blog post with your idea, DM me here, or comment on the patreon post (only for supporters.) Thank you for reading, I hope you'll stick around and send me some of your ideas. Peace.
