A Binding Symphony
You’re lying on your bed, feeling aroused by the mare sitting next to you. Your boxers, made of silk cotton continuously rub against the very noticeable lump between your legs. Every time you try hard to adjust and hide it, your growth becomes that much more visible to your visitor. She smiles with lust in her eyes, and says, “Oh, it seems somebody likes what they see.”
The only light in the room are candles hanging securely around the walls that create a luminous dance of shimmering fires upon their holders. They’re bright enough so that you can easily see her, but not so bright as to ruin the romance of the moment. You can also detect the perfect amount of their vanilla scent wafting from the wax, which makes you sigh with alleviation.
The sight you see before you is not one you could’ve predicted to see before this day, nor did you ever think that it would turn you on in the slightest, but it does.
It’s Octavia in two pairs of pink socks, with her laced panties donning the same pigment. She stands a few feet away from the bed, parallel to you, so that you have a good view of what she has done for you. Your mind is racing with confusion, and excitement. You’re ecstatic to know what she has in store, but, at the same time, you’re having second thoughts of performing this dance between bodies.
The main fact that bothers you is that she’s a pony, and you’re human. Only a day in this world, and I'm about to screw a pony... Is there something wrong with me, or is this natural? It’s mind boggling, and it makes you so nervous that you begin to break into a feverish sweat. I-... I need think of why I am doing this, and quick. I don't want to offend her by my hesitation.
You begin to think of the day before you met her. You were preparing for a concert back in New York City at one of the city’s most prestigious stages, Carnegie Hall. You could barely contain your excitement; not just because of the location, but the fact that you were going to have your own solo in a violin version of Fur Elise.
* * *
On your way out, you were carrying a violin in its case and a book-bag strapped to your back. Inside was some change of clothes for afterwards. You had dressed yourself in a formal, black tux with a red tie, and were beginning to make your way down the stairs of your apartment. That is, until your cell phone rang. You set your violin down, and answered, “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Mr.(Your Name)?” a man asked in a monotone voice.
“Yes, this is him.”
“I’m afraid I have bit of bad news for you.” You started to sweat, because you knew what he was about to say. “I was informed by the program director to call everyone who was supposed to play tonight, and tell them that concert has been, uh...cancelled...”
You closed your eyes and jabbed your fingers to your eyebrows in frustration, sighing loudly. That was the third cancellation this year, the other two venues were not as respected as the Carnegie Hall, so you didn’t feel compelled to be upset over them. But this concert was monumental to your career. It could have possibly changed your entire life.
You wouldn’t have to work at your minimum wage job anymore, and you could live in a more respectable apartment. Unfortunately, it seemed your destiny was not meant for the life of luxury, but instead decides that you deserved two metaphorical punches to the face and one more in the gut.
As calmly and politely as you can, you asked, “Excuse me, but would you happen to know why?”
The man grunted, as if the question was an inconvenience to him, and answered, “Not enough tickets were sold for tonight.”
Figures! you thought. You had to force yourself to keep an even voice. “Thank you, sir. Have a good evening.” You hung up the phone, finished, and slowly slumped back to your apartment.
Once inside, you dropped your book-bag and violin case at the front door, walked to your living room, and laid down on your garage-sale couch. You turned to your right and stared at the many first-place awards you’ve earned from state-wide competitions hanging on the cracked wall across from you. You began to think, What a waste of time. I spent a large portion of my life practicing to become the best, only to find out that people don’t care for classical music anymore. You punched the side of the couch. The idiocracy of it all is disgruntling. They don’t understand that without classical music; none of the other genres would exist.
After letting off some steam, you decided to go into your puny kitchen to find something to calm yourself. You searched through your paint-peeled cabinets to find your decent-sized bottle of 10 year-old scotch.
I was going to save this for a special occasion, but seeing as that won’t happen anytime soon...
You poured yourself a shot glass you found next to the bottle, raised the glass in the air, and, in your best mock british accent, you quoted a line from one of your favorite movies, “There's a special rung in hell reserved for people who waste good scotch. And seeing as I might be rapping on the door momentarily... ” You chugged it, the burn of the alcohol stinging your throat, but the aftertaste was amazingly sweet.
Sighing pleasantly, you placed the glass down, and continued, “I must say, damn good stuff, sir.” You laughed a bit at the joke and thought. Well, I don’t have anything better to do tonight. Might as well drink some more, but first...
You set the glass and bottle on the rustic counter, went into your room, and changed out of out of your formal clothing into some comfortable sleeping attire: a pair of loose boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. If I’m going to drink, at least I’ll pass out comfortably.
You walked back to the kitchen, grabbed the scotch and shot glass, and headed into the living room. Setting them down on your cracked, wooden coffee table, you sat, and leaned back against the couch. The bottle stood there, begging you to have another drink of its strong, sweet nectar. It’s taunting took control of you, and you grabbed the scotch before pouring yourself another drink.
You raised the glass once more into the air and gave yourself a silent toast. To a pointless dream that only exist in fairy tales, cheers mate. Tipping the glass into your mouth, you noticed the burn of the alcohol was weaker this time around due to the fact that you were a bit of a lightweight. Your mouth felt partially numb, but its sweet aftertaste took over and left you in a state of pure bliss.
Deciding that drinking one shot at a time wasn’t enough, you took the bottle, tipped it back, and let a large amount of the delicious liquid flow through your mouth all while leaning your head back over the couch. Regretfully, you pulled the bottle away from your mouth, only to stare at it in your hands. You felt the pleasant effects of the alcohol consume you.
Your concentration declined increasingly, and the world around you began to spin. You felt the inclination to laugh hysterically, and you spilt some of the scotch on yourself. With a pause, you felt the liquid run down your leg as you stared at the bottle again with your brows furrowed and said, “Hey, hey, hey, Why you make me drink my spill?” You snorted and then felt the obligatory sense to sleep. The room darkened as you collapsed to the floor.
You woke up from a floor that was not the cheap carpet installed in your apartment, but instead a cold, hard pavement. Rolling over and opening your eyes, you saw the blue sky above you. What the hell happened? I should be in my apartment. You closed your eyes and brought a hand to your head. Oooh crap, I shouldn’t have drank that much. You laid there for a while longer, until you felt the tiny rocks stabbing into your back, adding to the beating pain in your head. I can’t lay here all day. I need to find out where I am. Slowly lifting yourself up, the headache punched the inside of your mind repeatedly as you walked against a brick wall to keep your balance. You kept your eyes closed so as to not let the light make your headache worse.
SLAM!
Suddenly something collided with you and sent you flying into the ground, knocking you unconscious.
Once again, you woke up, but you found yourself lying face-up in a soft bed. Well, that’s better than waking up on the ground, but how did I get here? Lifting yourself up, you felt a sharp pain in your head that made you feel sick to your stomach, and fall back down. I am definitely not drinking that much again. Knowing that your hands on your head wouldn’t help it, but you did it out of sheer pain. What you felt was not the skin of your head but a scratchy cloth.
Bandages! Apparently, when you hit the ground it caused an injury of some kind. You assumed that it was somewhere on the back of your head because you felt the pain pulsing there.
Turning to the left, so not to agitate it anymore, you opened your eyes. I am in a hospital... Great! You thought sarcastically, looking around noticing the plain white wall with the exception of pink and purple heart striped wallpaper on the edges of the it, and a poster of a male and female... Horse’s anatomy?! What kind of hospital is this?
A little perturbed by the posters unusual “revealing” parts of a horse, you rolled over and your eyes widened from what you saw sleeping next to you. You closed your eyes trying to pretend you didn't see what you just saw, but the image of it was clear.
A small, grey horse with a pink bowtie was curled up in a chair, and from its features, you figured it was a female. Her tail was black, along with her mane and that was shaped in an oval that flowed down her back. On her rear was a mark that you recognized as a treble clef, and next to her was an instrument case in the shape of a cello or double bass.
So there’s a female horse in the room with an instrument? How... what... Gah! You moaned loudly from a pulsing pain in your head increasing.
“Everything all right in here?” You heard a low, masculine voice say along with the... clopping of footsteps outside your room. Slightly opening your eyes, you saw the door gently open as a male horse wearing a white doctor’s jacket with a flat brown mane and a dark red coat entered with a look of concern.
You groaned at the site of him and said, “What the hell is going on? Why is everyone a horse?”
He continued his trot to the left side of your bed, and said politely, “I think the proper term you should use is pony. I'm not sure what to say actually but this place is called Equestria, and you are by far the strangest patient I have ever treated.” He sounded very excited by that fact, and leaned in beside your head and inspected your bandages.
So I'm not in my own world anymore!? You sighed in frustration. “Alright, but how did I get in this hospital, and who is that?” You said, in almost a whisper, as you pointed at the grey mare. Who shifted around in her seat, and heavily breathed out.
The colt chuckled quietly, and said, “Her name is Octavia, and she’s actually the reason you’re here.” He lifted up the back part of your bandages.
You gave him a confused look, and said, “Is that all?”
He shrugged. “That’s as much as I know, but I did hear she caused quite a commotion in the lobby with her frantically yelling ‘It’s all my fault!’ as she carried you inside.”
A slight warm feeling wrapped up inside you. This random talking pony carried me to the hospital, and she is still here... Why? You turned to look at Octavia with a small smile. “She actually carried me?” You asked quizzically.
“Yup, that is one tough mare. From the way she looks, I would have never thought she would be able to pick you up.” He chuckled.
You threw him a disapproving stare. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He laughed harder and backed away for second to catch his breath. Settling down, he returned to his inspection of your head, and said, “I didn’t mean for that to be offensive. She is one-third your size, and she was able to carry you. Don’t you find that impressive?”
You nodded in agreement, and then noticing the cello again, ask, “She’s probably strong enough to pick me up because of that instrument she has with her.” I'm more shocked by the fact that she rescued me at all. An act kindness I rarely see.
The stallion silently agreed with you, finished his inspection, and said, “From what I can see, you have a decent-sized gash on the back of your head, but you'll heal just fine. You also lost quite a bit of blood, so I would not recommend getting up. We have an elixir that will help restore your body’s energy.”
“Thank you, Doctor... Is that what you refer to yourselves here?“ You asked in a sheepish tone.
“Yes, actually, and it’s Dr. Heart Med.” He noted, smiling.
Huh, name matches his career. “I see. Well thank you, again.” You gave him a smile.
“It was no trouble at all.” He waved a hoof dismissively and headed towards the door. “I’ll see you in a bit for another check up, and the medicine.” He uttered his final words as you watched him leave the room.
You were then alone with the sleeping Octavia, lost in your own thoughts. So this is the oddest thing to ever happen to me. I am in a world called Equestria. A land filled with talking ponies, and no humans. I must be in some crazy dream. That alcohol must of got to me. You pinched yourself a couple times, and then slapped your face. Thinking it was going wake you out of your dream, but actually the loud slap made Octavia stir around in her chair. She stretched and yawned. Oops, I woke her up.
The grey mare sat up, saw you, and gave you a sheepish smile. “Umm, hello.” Her voice reminded you of a young british woman back on earth, but more serene in tone. She looked down at the ground as if she was ashamed to look at you.
“Hello there, Ms. Octavia,” You said kindly, and asked, “What's wrong?”
“I-I'm so sorry for putting you through this,“ A small glimmer showed in her eye. “I was in a rush to get to my next performance, and I didn't see you coming out of the alleyway... I didn't want you to be angry with me,”
“It’s alright. I'm not mad, “ You said with a small smile. “Dr. Med told me about you carrying me to the hospital. I did end up in here, but you also helped me. Which I find quite honorable.”
“Really?” She raised her head to look at you. Her eyes red and moist from the beginning of a tears, making you suddenly feel surprised, and hurt. A sudden desire to hug her built inside of you, but you attempted to resist it. I’m getting too emotional on my first time meeting her, You tell yourself.
“Of course, I judge people by their actions, and rescuing me says that you were willing to miss your concert for a complete stranger. That shows character.” You said, trying to cheer her up. By the way she smiled and wiped away her tears, you could tell it worked. She is rather cute. It was heartbreaking to see her cry.
There was a slight awkward silence in the room, besides the ambient sound of the crowds outside the open window next to Octavia. You had the feeling that you could be in a city of some kind, but compared to New York, this one didn’t have the blaring sounds of horns, and loud revving of engines. No, just the sounds of peop... ponies, greeting and bargaining with one another. This is quite a change in scenery from what I’m used to. You thought.
After a few minutes, Octavia's chair gave a slight creak as she leaned in and spoke quietly as if she was saying something offensive. “I don’t want to intrude on your business, but may I ask you some questions? I am intrigued by your presence.”
I guess they aren't kidding. There are no humans in this world. You rose an eyebrow and, teasingly replied, “Well, my curious new mare friend, I have answers for you, but I think you owe me some answers as well.”
She caught onto your tone and giggled. “Agreed. Would you like to start, since I'm the one that caused you so much trouble on your first day?”
“Where I come from, we always say 'ladies first', but if you insist.” You say cheerfully while slowly sitting up against the metal-barred bed frame. The pain had eased itself to a mild throbbing, so you could sit up somewhat comfortably. You raise a hand to your chin and say, “I was curious about your instrument. Have you always been able to play it?”
Her face brightened by the question. “That is my prized custom-made cello. I have been playing since I was a filly, but before that I had trouble figuring out my true talent. You see, when ponies are young we have what we call, blank flanks.” She got up and showed you her treble clef mark on her hind.
“This here is a cutie mark. It represents the true talents of every pony.” Lowering herself back down on the chair, she continued, “I had always enjoyed classical music and played many instruments, but the cello was the only one that I could master. I discovered this when I was searching through my dad's things in our attic one day and found his old, dust-covered cello. I was ecstatic, because it was one of the only instruments I’ve never played before. I wanted to clean it off and put it in my room, but it was very heavy. My father was so proud when I begged him to help me with it, and he was more than willing to teach me. We cleaned it up, bought new strings, and we started my lessons. I was able to play it decently in less than a week. That’s when my treble clef appeared.”
You sat there letting every word sink in. Her voice went high-pitched and giddy at that last part, showing you that it had meant the world to her when her talent was revealed. She takes pride in the skill she earned. That's a highly respectable quality.
“That's quite impressive, Ms. Octavia. I will have to hear you play sometime, or... “ You said enthusiastically, “we could play together.”
The grey mare's eyes widened with disbelief. “D-Do you play the cello as well?”
You nodded, “Yeah, to a certain extent, but my real talent lies within a violin.”
“Oh really?” She said with a sly smile. “How good are you?”
You took your hand, wiped the edge of your nails with the blanket, and looked at them jokingly, being pompous, “You sure you want to know? It will count as your question.”
Octavia turned her head, and began to mumble under her breath.
You shifted your eyes to look at her, raised an eyebrow, and returned the same smile she gave you. I already know my answer to this question. She will definitely not like what I have to say if she stays with it.
After a brief moment of mumbling, she stopped suddenly, turned to face you with the best poker face you had ever seen, and said, “I think I will have to wait until I see you play. If I ask you how good you are, it would be pointless, because I would be receiving a biased answer or you would have answered by saying you can not give answer that is biased.” She raised an eyebrow with a cocky grin. “Am I right?”
The gears in your head shut down as your mouth hung off its hinges. Clever mare. She saw right through me. One of the most intelligent responses I have ever received.
By the stunned look on your face, Octavia knew she was right, and made a sly grin as she spoke, “So may I ask how you even got to Equestria?”
You turned your head away from her slightly, and frowned as you thought how to answer this question. What do I tell her? If I say I drank too much, passed out, and woke up on the ground. She’ll think I’m a drunk. I don’t want to make a bad impression with her seeing that she would be above such a reckless decision. I don’t even understand how this could even happen.
The cello player gave you a puzzled , and asked, “Everything alright? You look like you’re struggling with what I inquired.” Her voice had a sarcastic tone on the statement.
You roll your eyes at her, “Har, har, and actually I am not sure how it happened, because... well... I don’t want you to think of me as some fool.”
Surprisingly, she laughed. You were mildly confused by this reaction, and waited for her to calm down before she responded, “Hehe... If I was you, I wouldn’t think that in the slightest.”
With an eyebrow raised, you asked, “Why is that?”
“There is an acquaintance of mine named Vinyl Scratch. We’ve been best friends for years now, and she one of the biggest party animals I know,” She giggled, “DJ-PON3, as some ponies would call her, doesn’t always make the make the best decisions, but she is rather ingenious on certain subjects. We all make mistakes, and if I were to judge you off of one mishap. It would be improper of me.”
Once again, this mare had blown your mind with how intellectual she was, and you merely chuckled at her words. “Indeed, well I will start in the afternoon of the day it happened.”
She nodded as you began your story. “I was going to have a solo piece in the Moonlight Sonata at one of the most illustrious concert halls in the city of New York.” You spoke easily so she would take in every word. “Sadly, they called me on my cell phone, and said it was canceled.”
Her eyes saddened by this statement, and placed a hoof on your hand. “That’s a shame. Why did they cancel? And, if you don’t mind me asking, what is a cell phone?” She raised an eyebrow.
You smiled at the last question, and responded, “It’s these little devices we use to contact one another on earth. They are very useful, but are really distracting when used constantly, and it was canceled because not enough people cared to buy tickets.” That’s another question she could owe me, but... I don’t really care at this point. You enjoyed talking to her so much, it didn't matter.
“Well, that’s disheartening to hear. You must have been really upset.”
“Yes I was, and angry. I lost my temper, and regretfully decided to drink all of my 10 year-old scotch.” You scratched your head with eyes squinched for a second as you spoke, “Ehh... I can’t remember anything after I finished the bottle, other than waking up on the concrete.”
“I see.” Her tone was caring, but had a hint of sadness. “I’m so sorry you are stuck here, and to only make matters worse. I literally added insult to injury by putting you in the hospital.” She started tearing up again, and it made your heart sink.
Your subconscious took over your body. Leaning over, you gave Octavia a hug. She tensed up, surprised by your sudden affection, but she slowly wrapped her hooves around you and eased into the hug. It felt as though you had hugged a live, thin, furry pillow. She was so warm and soft. I don’t know if I’ll be able to let go. I've never had a hug like this before.
Regretfully, She slowly backed away with dark blush on her face. “Wh-why did you do that?”
You shrugged. “It just looked like you needed it, and I already told you not worry about the accident. As you said ‘It was just one mistake’, right?” You grinned when you repeated her phrase.
She wiped away her last tear with small smile. “Thank you, and I may know somepony that could help you return back to earth.”
You gave her a doubtful look, and said, “How can that be possible?”
Right as Octavia was about explain, she was cut off as Dr. Med returned to the room. He looked over your bandages again, hoofed you a cup of red liquid, and said, “Here is your
elixir, and you should be right as rain when you’re done with it.”
The medicine seemed to bubble in the cup like soda, and you stared at it uneasily. It looks like it could boil over. You shrugged, and downed the drink. A massive heat wave hit your body, and instantly cooled when it hit your stomach. It was the oddest sensation you had ever experienced, but felt like a recharge to your system. That was amazing.
You weren’t sure what kind of expression you had, but from the grin on the doctor’s face, he was pleased with the results. “Feeling better, I see. Good. You may leave whenever you like.” The doctor left without any further assistance.
As you slowly lifted yourself, the room felt as if it were spinning for second, and you were in a daze, but you eventually gained control of your eyes. Seeing what you wearing, you realized you were still in the clothes you fell asleep in, and felt somewhat awkward to be partially naked. Though you notice that none of the ponies have any real clothing on. I guess clothes are optional here, but I should find a place to get fitted with proper attire soon.
Hearing a soft laugh, you looked over at Octavia, and she had a hoof up to her mouth as she was trying not lose control of herself.
You searched the room by rotating your head around, trying to find what she snickering at, but failed to see to what was funny. “What are laughing at, you silly mare?”
She pointed at you, struggled with her words, but was able to ask, “I can’t believe I didn’t see this before, but is that what you normally wear in your world?”
You blushed and spoke, “No, we normally wear more loose clothing, but this what I blacked out in.”
“We should get you into something nice to wear before we meet the princesses.” Octavia said with a stifled giggle.
Princesses? The idea was unrealistic to you. “You ponies are ruled by royalty?” You asked with an intrigued tone.
“Well in a sense we are, but there is more to it than that.” Octavia answered as she patted her chin.
“Would you care to explain it? I’m fairly interested in your world, and are they ones that could send me back home?”
“I would love to tell about Equestria and there is a possibility, but I’m not positive that they can.” She said doubtfully. “We should head there now. It’s almost lunch.” She said while grabbing her cello.
“Yes ma’am.” You said politely.
She blushed with a giggle. “It’s not necessary to be so formal with me. We are friends after all, you may call me Tavia, if you please.”
You waved your hand with a bow, told her your name, and said, “Nice, to meet you, Ms. Tavia.” Then looked up at with a wicked grin.
Rolling her eyes, as she left the room and with an exasperated sigh responded, “You’re just as bad as Vinyl.”
Teasingly, you said, “I’ll take that as a compliment.” You stood back up, and followed her.
Author's Note
The first two sections were edited, reviewed, and pre-read by my good friends(in no particular order):BlackSnowyOwl,EXOLIEF, and Art Inspired
These guys are awesome. :D
Also I am glad you guys are enjoying the story. There are just a few things I want to make clear.
This story will have two alternate endings.
One of the last chapters will be called A Bonded Symphony
and the second one will be A Bitter Sweet Symphony
When it gets to that point, they will be released at the same time, and where you decide how the story ends. :D
