The Strange Case of the ID

The Strange Case of the ID

Chapter 2: Second Person

Crystal Prep was a multitude of things. It was a formidable facility dedicated to the molding of young minds for a future set in path by their parents, business owners, and civic leaders. It was a highly regarded Five A school private school, which meant that it could handle a large number of students, offered the most advanced curriculum, and had the most up to date texts available to the civilian education market. To say that it was a cut above other schools would be an understatement that could, and would, take the cake of all understatements.

However, the one thing that Crystal Prep lacked in was the Magical Attack Preparation Plan, as developed and enacted by Principal Celestia. Such plan followed other protocols, to be sure, but it also had specifical details on where to send students, which councillors would have the students best interests at heart, and would, of course, be willing to keep an open mind, and of course a closed mouth about the ongoings at the school itself. The councillors Principal Celestia had chosen were mostly those who were left overs of a dying breed that had been teenagers in the 1960’s.

They had experimented with various lifestyles and ideals that their minds were open, and they absolutely understood the idea of keeping their mouths shut. After all, the last thing that any one of them wanted to do was alert the man onto something strange that seemed to work itself out fine. Plus, having grown up in the sixties they completely understood how the government would work toward something it didn’t understand. Unfortunately Principal Abacus Cinch had never made those contacts. She didn’t have the magical preparation plan, because her students were exposed to it only once, and that was at Canterlot High.

Instead, she had resigned herself to deal with issues as they came. Tradition was far more important to her than whatever supernatural aliment was happening at Canterlot High. Her students would simply remain separate, and at no time would they engage with Canterlot High’s students unless it was deemed absolutely necessary.

It was for this reason, and none other, that Crystal Prep was caught with its metaphorical pants down, bent over, with its cheeks spread. The moment a girl with a strange elastic looking green mask covering all of her head, except for a small area where dark green hair stuck out in a ponytail. She wore a white leather motorcycle suit that had flames stitched into the seams, a cape flowing behind her, and the note this suit belongs to Evel Knievel, don’t touch! Sewn onto it. She let out a laugh as she began to strut down the hall of the school as if she had belonged there.

Upper Crust saw the unknown newcomer, realized that no one else was going to say a word, and stepped forward. She looked at Jet Set who nodded, and ran to tell the security guard. She studied the girl, uncertain of who she was, but figuring that she must have come from Canterlot High. After all, she looked to be their type.

“Excuse me,” she said, “But your kind aren’t allowed here.”

The girl looked at her, smiled brightly, and managed to slide her left foot toward the right, doing a perfect split, picked herself up, and then reached behind her, pulling out two maracas from someplace that Upper Crust couldn’t see, understand, or want to understand. The girl then shook the maracas, and as she did music began to pump through the PA system.

“They call me Cuban Sweet,” she began, “I’m the master of the Rumba beat.”

Within seconds Upper Crust was dancing the rumba, her top missing, she was laughing, singing, and practically everyone else in the hall had joined in. The entire hall was a mess of discarded uniforms, scantily dressed teenagers, and all of them dancing a style of dance to a genre of music that’s only reference to any of them were some old golden age of animation cartoons in which a wolf was attempting to pick up an attractive redhead. Yet somehow all of them were dancing on beat, singing perfectly with every line, and more to the point it was pulling other people out of class rooms.

The sound of the music, the magic of the dancing, and the inspired singing found its way toward the administration offices and caused Principal Abacus Cinch to step out of her office, and into a liability nightmare. At this point there were at least a hundred students, all in violation of the dress code, dancing the rumba, singing a ridiculous song, and making a mockery of Crystal Prep! She stepped forward, completely planning on taking the bull by the horns, returning order and tradition where it belonged, and ensuring that the guilty party be expelled for this massive disruption. That was her plan, but then Principal Cinch had never personally been forced to deal with magic with the exception of the Friendship Games.

She had no idea of knowing that there were two magics working together, and one was feeding the other. Harmony magic gripped her, and soon she was singing the ridiculous song, her jacket open, her power heels forgotten, and there was the security guard who was holding onto her as he danced the rumba with her. It spread past her, infecting all that came into contact with it, and one teenage girl that had managed to go back onto her meds and keep the hallucinations at bay was wondering if all of this was real.

Beside her, her best friends were dancing, all looking uncertain, but belting out a song they had never heard before a day in their lives. She saw her boyfriend near her, glad to have him, and watched as he moved further into the mess of teenage bodies. He moved toward the girl dressed in the motorcycle suit, waving the maracas, and he felt his hands reach up. A sort of pull directed him, and he grabbed the back of the mask. It came off easily in his hands, and the girl fell to the ground. Everyone slowed, stopped, and he looked at the back of the mask. He could hear the promises.

He could be as athletic as his brother First, he could be anything and everything that Sour could ever want. He could be as popular as he ever wanted to be, and he would have the power to change his parents if he wanted. It would grant him his every single desire, everything he could ever want, and he just had to put it on. He lifted it, and like with Wallflower Blush it latched onto him. He let out a yelp of surprise, but he didn’t fight it as it surrounded him with a rainbow. When it cleared he was slightly taller, his muscles now defined to the point that it looked cartoonish and fake, and he was wearing a latex bodysuit with zippers near his crotch. The mask itself had reached deep into his truest self, and unleashed that upon the world.

He laughed maniacally, sounding more like a cartoon villain from something that his uncle might have watched on saturday mornings back when he was a kid. He moved faster than he’d ever moved in his life, faster than most people could ever move, and in truth fast enough that it caused the very tiled floor under him to crack, break, and go flying with each step. He skidded to a stop near Sour Sweet, causing her eyes to widen as she took in the form before her.

He changed from the full latex bodysuit, to that of a pair of white slacks, form fitting blue shirt, French beret on the side of his head, and his abnormally large and sparkling white teeth were shown in the most over exaggerated smile she had ever seen.

“Ah, my Sour Sweetheart, come with me, and I shall fulfill your every desire,” he said moving toward her, “We shall live in a palace of pure love and sex, with a heavy helping of sex, and it shall never end.”

She backed up, “Second?” she asked, “Is… is my medicine not working?”

He moved closer to her, his smile actually touching the corners of his eyes, “No, they’re working, but I can be everything now,” he said, “With these powers I can be a superhero!”

He laughed, “I can protect the innocent, right wrongs, promote world peace and total equality regardless of gender, ethnic background, and financial standing!” he exclaimed before he looked at her, and he stepped closer to her, boxing her in, invading her personal space, and being a bit more aggressive as she stated that she thought he should be from time to time, “but first I want to do like we discussed in our world history, divide and conquer, Je t'adore, Je t'adore, Je t’a window, I don’t care!”

He expected a few things, and one of the things he expected happened. Sour slapped him, and of course his new found powers, and maniac responses, reacted as one would think they would. His entire face turned toward the direction of the slap, his cheek practically warped around his nose and mouth before righting itself, and he looked back at her.

“You are so coy, I love it!”

“You’re acting like an unhinged lunatic right now,” Sugarcoat said, “And honestly it is frightening everyone.”

He looked at her, “Ah, direct to the point,” he said as he spun and when he stopped he was dressed in a charcoal gray suit, a pair of glasses adorned his face, and there was a fake cigar in his fingers, “I believe that the father of psychotherapy would be proud of you.”

Sugarcoat stepped back, uncertain of what was going to happen next. With the other girl, she had just appeared and all of them had danced and sang. It was like a party, and almost like she was living out some kind of fantasy where she was the very life of the party. With Second it was odd. He seemed focused on Sour, but he was reacting to all of them in an incredibly over the top fashion. He moved from her, his clothes altering and changing again, changing into a dog collar, leash, pair of spandex boxers that fit way too well, and the leash curled up into Sour’s hand as she stood there.

“Second?”

He grinned at her, turned around, and grabbed his ankles, “Somebody Spank Me!”