The Wizard of Whitetail Woods π
“I can get a dildo in with just hooves.”
Admiral Biscuit

While the hotel’s continental breakfast room didn’t have a dress code—like most things pony—the Wizard’s cutie mark was a bit much, and the pair of them got booted until they could find a way to cover his membrum virile.

The robe was tried, and it did an excellent job at covering his rude cutie mark; however, the Wizard was bad enough at walking without stepping on the hem of his robe and faceplanting into the plush carpet.

As luck would have it, nearly forgotten in the depths of KitKat’s emergency supplies kit were a few Vermin Supreme 2016 bumper stickers she’d picked up when he’d visited Equestria, understanding as few humans would that the quality of a man can be measured by how many ties he wears simultaneously. The boot on his head was the cherry on top . . . truly a man of fashion.

Vermin knew where ponies would stick bumper stickers and his were coated with fur-friendly adhesive, one that both stuck and could be removed without causing unsightly bald patches. Just the thing to cover a roughly rectangular cutie mark.

For a moment, as the duo returned to the dining room, the Wizard considered the strange prudity that took offense to an image on his flank while paying no mind to the numerous actual genitals on full or partial display. There was even a well-muscled stallion so enraptured with his morning coffee that he’d dropped halfway and none of the ponies pointed an accusing hoof at him.

The wizard stared for a good long while until he felt a rumble of hunger in his belly and a rumble of something else further back which he tried not to think about as he selected a plate of food. Vegetarian, because of course it was, but he knew a spell to turn silage into sausage and this time he wouldn’t get kicked out of the restaurant for indecent exposure.

Which, again, was unfair because ponies were allowed to show off their junk in public.

•••

Their second attempt at breakfast was nearly a disaster; the Wizard insisted on trying to use cutlery and nearly put his eye out with a fork. Still, it did improve his fine magic skills at least slightly; by the time he finished he was able to stuff a whole magical sausage into his mouth with only minimal dribbles on his chin.

“You’re used to using a wand for magic, this shouldn’t be so hard for you,” KitKat observed.

“I’m not used to using this head,” the Wizard muttered, tapping his forehead. “It’s giving me a headache.”

“You can use your hooves for simple stuff,” she reminded him. “And you can stick your face down on the plate and eat like a normal pony, not try and flail around a fork and knife. Ponies were built for grazing, not . . . whatever it is you’re doing. Before you were a pony you weren’t so concerned with silverware, you ate plenty with your hands.”

“My hands haven’t been walking around on the ground.”

“No, just holding your wand and stroking your wand and fondling your wand and picking your nose and aiming your wand and scratching your balls. I’d rather have some proper dirt in my food, thank you very much.”

•••

It was agreed that he would not attempt to turn himself back, that at least for now their time was better spent searching for the McGuffin lest it take them even longer to find it.

As KitKat packed up her saddlebags, the Wizard eyed his bare barrel and frowned. “Where am I supposed to put my things?”

“Well, you were going on about a vag of holding,” KitKat suggested. “You could try that.”

The Wizard looked over to his travelling kit. “What, like, put that on the floor and sit on it?”

“I’d personally magic it in, safer that way. You can go slow and make sure it all fits.”

For better or worse, the Wizard actually did levitate his travelling kit and move it around to his rump before KitKat took pity on him and packed it in her saddlebags.

“I’ve seen you looking at other mares.” KitKat leaned down and pulled the cinch on her saddlebag tight. “So I know you know what it looks like back there, I have no idea how you’re having so much trouble. I can get a dildo in with just hooves.”

“You’ve had more practice, I’m sure.”

“Fair point.” She made her way across the room and put a hoof on the handle, then paused. “You know, since the first time I saw your hairy canary, I’ve had no sexual urges at all. Huh.” She twisted the knob and pushed the door open. “Well, best be going. I wonder what adventures await us this time?”

•••

Being located on the edge of the haunted forest as it was, it took the intrepid duo little time to get back into the woods. While to an extent their earlier explorations had yielded them nothing, they had in fact learned lots of places to not go, creatures to avoid, etc. They knew about the damn dam and the beavers of the same, Kukka the skunk, the Chupacabra, the Dauw tribal village. They didn’t know about the succubus living in a small cottage on the northern fringes of the forest, and that was just as well; if they’d known about it the Wizard would have wanted to go and KitKat would have wanted to stay the fuck away, and that would have led to a big argument, and the magical McGuffin for which the wizard searched might never be found.

In some ways he adapted to his new form, rarely slapping at his ears when they turned to listen to a new sound.

In some ways, he’d always wanted to be a unicorn.

In other ways, he missed his dick. The horn just wasn’t the same.

Kat stopped and held up a hoof. The wizard moved up to her, instinctively stopping short of her shoulder.

She pointed to an unnatural path through the forest. It veered up to trees and bounced off rather than being an obvious creature-made path, but once he spotted it, it was easy enough to follow with his eye. There were no leaves or needles in that path, and in the places where it crossed rocks, all the little crumbs of dirt were gone.

“We need to cross that,” she whispered. “Without touching it. How far can you jump?”

“I don’t know. How far can a pony normally jump?”

“Normally? Far enough.” KitKat frowned. “You keep tripping over your own hooves.”

“There are four of them, and they’re always getting in each other’s way.”

“Uh huh.” KitKat glanced up at the webwork of branches overhead, gauging swing and strength and the tenacity of any leaves overhanging. “Theoretically, I could get a rope around that, you think you could hold on to a rope?”

“With hooves?”

“Alright, climb on my back and hold on.”

“Climb on?”

“You know how to ride a unicorn, don’t you? This is pretty much the same idea, except you’re going to be all the way on my back and you’re going to hold on tight and not let go until I stop, okay?” She glanced up and down the meandering trail. “Doesn’t look like there are any side-branches nearby, so we should be good.”

“This is so undignified,” the Wizard muttered as he tried to mount her from behind.

“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one on the bottom.” KitKat bumped her rump to help the Wizard slide forward along her back. “Forelegs around my neck, not too tight, ‘cause I’ve got to breathe. You ready?”

“Not reeeeeealy!”

KitKat didn’t give him time to finish, she dug her hooves in and got up speed along the perimeter of the clearing, straightening out to gallop up a convenient rock that would serve as an eristaz launch ramp.

Sometimes when she jumped, she wondered for that brief moment of flight, that brief moment of defying gravity, if this was what a pegasus felt when she took flight. What if she were to just keep climbing?

One of her uncles by marriage was a pegasus, and when she was but a wee little lass, he’d taken her on pegasus rides, never too high, but enough to get the feeling of soaring.

And then she was falling, off the peak of her jump, and the landing was hard with the extra weight of the Wizard on her back. Her hooves scrambled for purchase, and he started sliding off her.

A close pass to a tree straightened him out again, and then she jumped over a cluster of ferns and then landed back back on a clearer spot of the forest floor, where she could see roots and rocks and avoid both.

She galloped for nearly a mile before finally slowing her pace and stopping. The wizard slid off her back and collapsed on the ground, while she leaned down and unstrapped her saddlebags, then rolled on her back in the cool, soft dirt.

“I think we’re good, but we should stay here for a few minutes while I cool down and to listen and see if they’re tracking us. I don’t think they will, there won’t be any scent on the immediate sides of the path and they might think it was a bird or a pegasus that passed overhead.”

The Wizard turned and looked through the forest. “What are they?”

“Feral Roombas.”

Author's Note

Source

At the time of publication, there were 138,587 stories that weren’t this one or its prequels, any of which you could have been reading instead, and still you’re here.