Transforming into Fluttershy
Author's Note
A man is caught off guard when he suddenly finds himself turning into a very familiar yellow pony in another world...
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Story © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe
Characters © respective owners
Transforming into Fluttershy
A man is caught off guard when he suddenly finds himself into a very familiar yellow pony in another world...
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As always, I am open for commissions starting at 30 GBP per 1,000 words - please e-mail arianmabe[at]gmail.com for more information or see my profile!
Story © Amethyst Mare / Arian Mabe
Characters © respective owners
Iron Author
Transformation
Transforming into Fluttershy
Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)
Commissioned by Yellow Coat
John exhaled softly as he awoke, blinking as the rafters slowly came into view above him. They didn’t look right, not like his home, and he sat up slowly, coming to full wakefulness in a cottage with a patterned bedspread that he had never seen before. His heart pounded and he ran his hands over his face, his head, rubbing his temples. His brown hair seemed the same though, a strand coming away in his fingers, though the dawn was just rising as a soft, yellow glow illuminated the bedroom that he appeared to be in.
Where was he though? Nothing made sense as he got up, dressed in simple, comfortable pyjamas – something that one would not have minded being seen in. His body felt the same, the wooden floorboards pressing up against his bare feet as he walked lightly, almost as if he was afraid to make one creak. It was not his home, a strange place, but he couldn’t even find a mirror either to take in stock of himself, fingers shaking as they brushed the curtains back.
A cottage… A pleasant garden… A village down beyond the end of the garden path. It all looked normal, except for the fact that he was not where he was supposed to be, breath coming shortly and sharply, not understanding, shaking his head.
“What… Oh no… No, no, no…”
Yet the sense of calm that he had woken with was swift to return, settling over him like a lady’s shawl, the comforting weight of it on his shoulders both stilling and settling him, if only a little. That little was all that was needed, however, as he groaned softly in the back of his throat, resting his hand on a rustic dressing table. It was too short, really, to be a dressing table. In fact, everything there seemed designed for a person halfway between the height of a child and a grown man, John being a little taller than most, to be fair.
His fingers ached and John stared at them as they changed, sticking together, both hands, growing hard and clumpy, so much so that he could not even wriggle them anymore. What was going on? He could not feel worried but the sense of calm was not enough to surpass the strangeness of it all, teasing into his heart and soul, making it pound, leaking and jumping in the strangest of ways.
Hush now…
What was that? Who had said that? He didn’t yet realise that the words and come from his lips in the voice of another, turning his head from one side to the other, lips parted. Those didn’t feel right either as his body turned yellow, skin taking on a shade that was pastel and that should never have been seen on a human body. It wasn’t right but his arms were changing shape too, his nightshirt a little tighter, though he couldn’t have explained why.
Nothing was bad, however. Everything was fine. At least, it was fine in John’s mind as he exhaled softly, breath whispering over his lips. The cottage was quiet in the breaking of the dawn, birds chirping away outside, and he tipped forward onto all fours, for that felt natural. His arms, duly, felt better in that position anyway as he braced himself lightly, wriggling his back end, though his legs were growing shorter too.
With all that happened, there was no pain and he revelled in the strangely ticklish sensation, even though he could not laugh for the moment. No, there was something wrong there and his lips would no longer obey him, even though he wanted them to, having to wait and be patient for the greater parts of his change to come to him in that moment. Being patient, however, was not quite John’s strongest suit as his bones ached faintly, repositioning themselves for the form of a quadruped.
His pyjama pants slipped down as his legs changed, back shortening and his glutes rising into a new shape, the curve of something that would be seen on a four-legged creature, not a human being. It all felt so natural though that he could not bring himself to worry or hardly even care, watching and waiting with bated breath to see just what happened next. His feet were no more either as he stepped out of his pyjama bottoms, letting them pool on the wooden floor, out of his way for all that was to come.
He didn’t need feet when hooves were, clearly, so much better. They sucked up his toes as they hardened, the same shade of pastel yellow as his body, though it no longer seemed much like his body at all. His chest scooped down between his forelegs, pecs tucked between them and stretching back, his stomach rounding out softly around his ribs and sweeping up to point at the curve of his buttocks. John almost blushed. That was weird… No. No, he couldn’t call them that anymore, not when he was the one on all fours, down on the floor like a creature. But the room seemed to be much more his height after the changes had progressed, his curiosity perked just a little bit as something tingled around his backside.
His face too, oh… Oh, that most certainly had to change in the early stages, for it would have been too strange otherwise as his bones shifted and moved, adjusting for his new body. His nose pushed out into a neat tuck of a snout, but it felt as if it was meant to be there too, eyes larger and rounder, something lighter and glistening in them. He tried to bring a hand…hoof…thing to his face but couldn’t control the motion as yet, breathing shortly and shallowly, hips pushing back to allow the changes to continue.
One thing that he had not paid note to was his maleness and John gasped as that part of him, slowly but surely, retreated into his body. There was no stopping it, though he was a little concerned too, twisting around on ungainly hooves to look back under his belly, trying to see what had happened. That only meant, however, that he had a prime view of the udders that formed there instead, pulling down softly and filling as if he was not a maiden mare.
John shuddered. A mare? What? But it was true and he felt it to be so, him as a mare, the teats plump enough that he ached to touch them. His curiosity got the better of him, even then and he stretched, reaching and leaning his shoulder into the bed for balance, the mattress giving under his weight, however, side-on it was. His hoof brushed his new udders and he reflexively shuddered under his touch, everything so sensitive, as sensitive as his malehood had been. It was strange, very strange, but there was still more to come as a pink fall of tail-hair sprouted from the base of his spine.
“Oh…”
He gulped and rolled his head, the straining stretch of having a tail grow unique in how it felt as if his spine was elongated, pulling into the dock of it, standing on four hooves like a pony. A pony mare, that’s what he was, though he was beautiful too, his gorgeous, pink tail falling to the floorboards in a sensual fall of wafting hair. A mane had to follow even though it merely replaced his brown locks, the strands changing colour and then sweeping down his longer neck too, better-suited for a pony had. It felt luxuriously soft and he could not resist a toss of his head, flicking it from one side of his neck to the other, though that hair too came down nearly all the way to the floor, so soft that he could not help but brush it with a hoof, shivering as that gentle touch alone tweaked the base of his mane, where the hair connected to his neck with so many sensitive nerve-endings.
Wings too... He didn’t know why those came but he felt them pushed from between his shoulder blades, further back, lightly feathered and growing more with every passing moment. They itched as they sprung to life in a flutter of yellow feathers that were the same shade as his hide, stretching and flapping, new muscles layering where they connected to his body. John grunted and shook his head, tail flicking, though nothing he did could stop the pull of them sprouting, the ache of something growing where he had never before felt it. Did that mean that he could even fly too?
Ah, the biggest thing of all was yet to come and he gasped, rocking back onto his hindquarters and trying to sit down on the floor with his back to the bed like a human would, his tail twitching back and forth. It was weird and it was wrong and he groaned softly in the back of his throat, his voice softer and lighter than before. For what was changing was under his tail where his pucker resided, the softly feminine folds of a mare tugging down into shape beneath it. He licked his lips, shaking in place, yet it was in wonder and not any sense of fear as a quivering hoof stretched out, brushing it, hardly able to believe that it was part of his body.
That part of him, however, was far too sensitive to linger on and he moaned, muscle settling into place on his new body, rounding out his hindquarters, legs tucking up into hocks, bending the opposite way than he was used to. A pony practically walked on tip-toes and fingertips all of the time to liken it to human anatomy, his knees and elbows higher joints than he was used to, but John would soon find that he could get about well enough without too much trouble. It was simply not something that he truly had to worry about as he struggled onto all fours again, shaking himself off as a strand of very pink mane floated away, draped over the floor.
“This… Oh…”
He cleared his throat, though it was harder tog et the words out when it no longer sounded like him talking than ever. He squirmed in place, twisting back and forth, though there didn’t seem to be anything all that much that he could do to hide his, ah, “new equipment”, as much as he wanted to clamp his tail down over it and hide. It was a part of him and that was something that he would have to accept, his new body as beautiful as he could have ever imagined it to be.
And that was true…wasn’t it? Sure, it was strange but he was lighter than ever, his feminine sex feeling warm as he played his tail across it, breathing more slowly, more evenly, though there was a heated blush in his cheeks. That blush even clung and tingled into his ears, embarrassment rife but, really, what did John think he could do about it? The changes were there to stay, he felt it in his gut, but that was alright, all as it was meant to be as he looked around, getting a better feel for his surroundings from a new perspective.
But there was still one thing that he had not yet looked at…and that shift was needed too in his…or her…own mentality.
John was no longer John, no longer a “he”. But who was she?
Looking in the small mirror on top of the dressing table, Fluttershy blinked back at her reflection.
“Oh my…”
That was her voice, her soft voice, and it settled into and over her as if it had just been waiting to step out of the wings. It was her cottage that she was in and the man, John, well… Well, he was something of a past life and past lives most certainly were not anything to worry about, not anymore, certainly not for her. Her life was as it was and it was surely a lot more serene than life had been as a human.
She knew Fluttershy. She’d watched the pony on TV, the cartoon, though that’s all he was then, taking a deep breath of fresh, spring air, leaning out the window. She had no hands but that was alright when her earth pony hooves did the trick well enough for her, seeming grippier than she may otherwise have expected.
“Well… Let’s see what the day has in store for us this time, shall we?”
She smiled, settling into her new form.
It was going to be a good life…as Fluttershy.
