Discoveries of a Filly's Behind

It was a night not unlike any other night. Sweetie Belle had gone to bed early and lay soundly asleep in her room, chest rising and falling ever so slightly with her breath as the clock ticked down the hours.

A cold breeze was blowing through Ponyville that night and the shutters on her windows trembled and rattled, a distant howling on the airwaves as a long and pensive, ever-present storm gathered, waiting on the horizon.

Lightning flickered, and the trees scraped along the roof’s tiling as the storm picked up, turning black against the night sky.

The room darkened and Sweetie Belle’s mouth turned down into a frown. The distant crackle of lightning added a certain, magical hint to the air—an oppressive force that permeated the sheets, adding a biting chill to the night.

A shiver ran up the little bundle in the bed. Sweetie Belle’s frown turned into an even deeper scowl as she turned in her sleep. Her teeth clenched together and she recoiled away from the cold, all whilst the storm’s might grew, turning darker on the horizon.

A stallion—or a mare’s voice, as Sweetie dreamt, rolled on the back of the thunder and clouds. It almost sounded like joy, laughter of a sickening kind. Sweetie found herself tossing and turning, a cold sweat broken out about her brow.

She tugged on the covers with her magic, rolling to and fro more frantically. Faster, harder. Harder, faster—she tossed and turned. The springs creaked and bulged. The lightning cracked and fizzled. The world changed and then, finally, something magical happened.

She woke up.

“Ah!” Sweetie Belle gasped as she upended the sheets, eyes shot wide, gasping for breath. She glanced around her room, the dark room surrounding her in the dim morning light.

Her heart was racing and her breath was coming in short, rapid pants. “Wh-What—in Equestria—” Sweetie licked her lips. Her mouth was dry. Her throat was sore. It was like she had been guzzling treesap the entire evening. “Water—” She rasped, and immediately rolled to her side, reaching a hoof out to grab the glass of water Rarity always set out for her on the nightstand.

Her hoof grasped at empty air.

Sweetie Belle frowned.

She tried again, and missed again. She tried feeling lower, further back, but found just the wall and the edge of the bed. She squinted, nudging herself further up in her bed. The sheets felt strange. Her body moved differently and her joints ached in all new ways.

There was a hungry, craving, feeling that clung to the insides of her that she pushed to the back of her mind. Her bed—the sheets were soaked with sweat, and—and something. Something weird. She didn’t dare think of it.

Only foals wet the bed.

As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, a familiar, yet wholly different room came into focus.

Her saddlebags—overflowing with books and study materials—lay to the left of her bed. It was slumped and pressed against the wall, haphazardly thrown there in a way she couldn’t remember; above it, the windowsill where the hands of a tree traced their ways across the murky glass. The dangly limbs looked like a monster, lurking in the shadows ready to pounce.

It seemed to be pointing, and as Sweetie Belle’s eyes trailed around the small room, the dresser came into, followed by a vanity stacked high with more books. Parchment, scrolls, and papyrus adorned its surface, intermingled with a swath of mane-care and styling products.

The bedroom door was closed and a chair sat in the corner, alongside a freestanding mirror—the only familiar item to Sweetie’s eyes.

The nightstand was completely missing, replaced by a small table on the opposite side, slightly further away. It, too, was adorned with a mountain of items. A digital clock, a book, and a glass of water were the first to be spotted—and the most desired.

Sweetie smacked her lips. “Water,” she rasped, again.

She blinked, focusing her eyes on the glass, and inched herself sideways, pulling the covers with her as she reached.

The glass was cold to the touch—a hint, perhaps, from the night’s air. She wrapped her hoof around it and used her elbow as leverage to pull the rest of herself upright against the nightstand. Sweetie Belle wrapped her hooves around the glass and levered it to her muzzle, tossing back the water and guzzling the whole thing.

She sipped down the last few drops, and then slammed the glass back down against the nightstand, emitting a low rumble and satisfying sigh. “Ah—” She licked her lips, letting out a low, throaty purr that would make even Opal jealous. There was never anything quite like the fresh taste of a cold glass of water in the morning.

“Ah” Sweetie breathed, inhaled slightly, and let the air out through her nose as she exhaled. “Aaahhh...”

With her thirst quenched, and her throat no longer inflamed, Sweetie Belle was finally able to allow herself to relax. She leaned back against the headboard, her eyes closed as she took in the fresh air. She allowed herself to stretch slightly, to feel the soft fabric against her—

The sheets were scratchy.

Sweetie’s mouth turned into a slight frown. She adjusted again, hoping she’d just gotten a bad part of the bed. Perhaps it was time to change the sheets? But that wasn’t right. Rarity changed them every week.

She adjusted again, and yet more scratchy fabric brushed against her fur. The odd, needy sensation rose again inside of her, and Sweetie Belle pushed it back down, forcing it to the back of the mind.

And yet, something still didn’t feel right. Her ears lowered, and her brow furrowed. Sweetie Belle, with much effort, opened her eyes again to stare into the darkness of the room. She reviewed the surroundings now with a clearer mind, the strange, foreign objects and the odd sensations she was feeling all through her body.

Nothing felt right. Everything felt wrong. Her body felt different, and she didn’t remember any of that stuff being there when she’d gone to bed. Rarity would have told her if she was going t—

Rarity

“Oh b—” Sweetie bit down on her tongue, careful to bite off the profanities before anypony—especially Rarity—could hear her. She’d almost forgotten! And a quick glance to the clock confirmed her worst fears. It was 9:45. School started at 8:00. “Oh buck—Rarity, I’m so, so, so so sorry, I didn’t know I was going to sleep late an—” She practically fell out of the bed.

Sweetie Belle was struggling against the covers as she extracted herself from the tangled mess. The bedside table jostled as her mane brushed against its legs, and Sweetie was just able to get herself to a standing position before everything came crashing down around her.

She didn’t care if anypony saw or heard her like this. The mysteries of how Rarity had rearranged her room could wait. “I’m LATE” she screamed, voice cracking as she finally extricated herself from the entrapment of the bed and broke into a sprint to find her closet.

First, she had to get her stuff. Second she had to apologise to Rarity. Third she had to—Sweetie Belle’s path took her across the mirror and for a split second, she caught glimpse of a familiar mare in the reflection—though not the mare she suspected.

She stopped. Reversed. Took a step back. Looked again.

Sweetie’s mouth dropped.

“Uh. Wha—huh?”

She took a step closer, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. The mare looking back at her was, most definitely, undeniably, Sweetie Belle. But she wasn’t Sweetie Belle. She was Sweetie Belle. A Sweetie Belle. Not her Sweetie Belle. A different Sweetie Belle.

The concept was hard to grasp as she slowly turned her head, and the reflected Sweetie Belle mirrored her actions with perfect synchronisation.

She stuck out her tongue, and so too did the other. She closed one eye, turned her head the other way, and swished her tail.

Everything was pointing to this being a normal mirror, which meant...

She reached up and ran a hoof against her mane. She still had the same distinctive curls, but they were longer, almost dangling in front of her eyes, they were so long. Some even looked like they’d been tied back the previous day—which she knew wasn’t true. She was also taller, more slender, with the slightest hint of an eye-shadow that made every expression she made a little more... attractive?

A little tremble ran up Sweetie Belle’s spine as she imagined herself using those eyes to lure a handsome stallion her way in the bar and she tested out some expressions, narrowing her eyes, raising her eyebrows, and turning sideways as she inspected the strange—albeit not unwelcome—additions.

She gave herself one, slightly saucier, look that admittedly made her giggle, and Sweetie Belle was startled just by the sudden, much more lady-like voice. She sounded more like Rarity, almost scarily so.

Her laughs sounded like a mare. Not a filly, a mare, she thought.

Her bedroom eyes turned to an innocent smile and a titter as Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes at herself. Leaning closer, she gave one more eye-wiggle for good measure. “Good to see you again,” she purred, and set herself off into another fit of giggles.

Clearly somepony must have been messing with the wishing rose again. Either that or Twilight broke the space-time continuum, again, and there was somehow no sap this time.

She flicked her tail and turned away from the mirror, to inspect herself from another angle. Her flanks were toned, yet elegant, exactly as she remembered. It was no secret that she and the Crusaders had spent a day in these bodies before—Twilight knew, and she’d informed her sister of the ‘antics’. What was more of a surprise was how the spell could have reasserted itself.

Doubtlessly, nopony would expect a fully-grown mare to be attending school. Well, unless she was the teacher.

Sweetie stuck out her tongue—a gesture that was normally cute, but somehow came off differently when she saw it in the mirror now that she was an adult.

She glanced at the clock in the mirror and read the time; 9:50, it was.

If she was fast, she could catch Rarity in time and explain everything to her—this couldn’t be hard not to believe, after all, given the evidence—and maybe Rarity would let her stay home sick for a day.

Sweetie Belle gave herself one more look into the mirror, blew herself a kiss then trotted her way over to the door.

She reached for the door with her hoof, but stopped short a few inches, then turned her foreleg over, frowning as she thought about them. Then, she glanced to herself—her older self—in the mirror, and a sly smirk spread across the mare’s features—reflected perfectly upon her own.

Sweetie Belle set the hoof back on the ground. A lime-green aura enveloped her horn. The magic flowed smoothly, much quicker and easier to control. It was her favourite part, and the one part she missed from—and looked forward to—being an adult. It was almost like a blockage had been removed and she could tap into a well of reserves deeper than anypony could ever imagine.

A slight tingling crept down the inside of her thigh and Sweetie Belle scratched against it with the tip of her hock. Her hoof came back slightly wet—most likely sweat—and she wiped it off on the carpet.

The latch clicked, the door stung outwards, and Sweetie Belle galloped out of her bedroom, giggling like a school filly who’s just discovered the permanent crayons.

~ ~ ~

The kitchen was deserted, and not the good kind of deserted, either. There were no cookies and cream, no chocolates and pastries, no ice cream and waffles, and certainly no pudding and moose. It was abandoned. Empty. Nada.

Not a soul in sight, neither of a breakfast nor a Rarity to make any.

The only sounds were the soft tack, clack, and the crack of Sweetie Belle’s hooves as she stalked through the tiny kitchenette, mouth turned into a frown as she inspected every corner, nook, and cranny.

The curtains were drawn—a short burst of her magic made short work of that, and the curtains quickly tied themselves off, leaving a stream of the morning’s sun to cast a narrow beam over the breakfast-less nook.

“Now...” Sweetie Belle whispered to herself, frowning in thought as she stood in the middle of the tiny kitchen area. Her voice was low, unusually low. She was still getting accustomed to her new proportions as she turned to inspect the rest of the kitchen, tapping her chin with the tip of a hoof as she considered her options.

Normally Rarity would have left her something to eat. She’d assumed that she was too late—it was already past nine, after all—and that she’d missed Rarity before her errands. But if that was the case, Rarity would have left her with something to eat, still, at least a little bit of breakfast as some form of insurance against another kitchen fire.

But there was nothing.

Sweetie Belle stalked over the counter, whispering to herself as her eyes scanned over the surface. “Where would Rarity leave her...” She didn’t really know what she was looking for. The kitchen was a mysterious place, filled with dangers and fire hazards for a little filly.

The only things on the countertop were knives and a bowl of aging oranges, certainly not breakfast, nor suitable for a filly to play with.

She continued, frown deepening, as she went to the opposite side of the kitchen. Sweetie took a peek inside the refrigerator: some fresh fruit, milk, and leftovers.

Eggs, maybe, and juice; milk was in the fridge and cereal in the cupboards, but Rarity had forbidden her using them since the last time she’d burned the cereal.

Sweetie closed the fridge and turned her attention to the cupboards. She instinctively reached for the stool before stopping herself, reconsidering, and just reaching for the handle with her magic. She levitated out a soup bowl and an old box of Apogee O’s—Canterlot’s favourite, most balanced, breakfast, according to Blueblood—and set them on the table.

She then grabbed a spoon from a drawer and the milk from the fridge and settled down at the table, bowl across from her and a spoon in her hoof.

“Mhm.” She licked her lips. Sweetie Belle’s eyes narrowed as she watched the box of cereal wobble its way over to the bowl. The milk followed, and when she was sure they were both in place, Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, and steeled herself, chanting silent encouragements. “You can do it,” she whispered. The box wobbled. “You can do it, Sweetie. You. Can. Dew. It.”

Carefully, she began to pour. The world slowed, silence falling. It was only her, and the cereal. Just, a few, more—her tongue stuck out as she concentrated on not setting anything on fire—and the first kernel made its way to the lip of the box.

A bead of sweat swelled at the edge of Sweetie’s brow. It crept down between her eyes as another, heated sensation began to build somewhere deep inside her—the needy tickle was back with a vengeance, but Sweetie was too focused on her task to even consider it.

She pushed it down, further and deeper than she’s ever pushed before, and focused all her might on the cereal box.

Just as the first rocket-shaped kernel was about to hit the bowl, the edge of a parchment caught the sun’s light, and Sweetie Belle’s eye.

She gasped. The box tipped, and the table tilted. Sweetie Belle almost swallowed the spoon as she lunged for the piece of paper with Rarity’s hoof writing upon it, and fell back to her seat, hacking and coughing. The cereal, all at once, shook and dumped a full load into the bowl. The milk spilled on the table, and as Sweetie threw up her hooves to shield her eyes, she up-ended the bowl and spilled the Apogee O’s all over the table.

The rockets went off, and soon everything was on fire.

Sweetie Belle sat back in her seat, parchment clutched to her chest, and looked around at the mess. “Uh...” Her mane frayed slightly. “This is fine,” she said. The flames spread to the curtains and began lapping at the windowsill, at which point the fire sprinklers went off—or on, rather—which unfortunately only caused the fire to get worse. “I—I can fix this.”

~ ~ ~

Several hours later Sweetie Belle was standing in the bathroom covered in soot and with a stomach full of what used to be Apogee O’s. The letter was lost in the fire, along with the plot, though she was able to get the gist of it: Rarity had said something about going on a vacation.

“A ‘vacation’?” Sweetie Belle said, as if, somehow, saying it out loud might make it a little more believable. She was staring at herself in the mirror whilst a wash cloth wiped along the sides of her cheek, revealing a clean mare beneath the thick layer of muck. “Since when does Rarity go on vacation!?”

What’s more, Rarity was thanking her, Sweetie Belle, of all ponies for watching the boutique! “What the hay!”

She threw the washcloth at the mirror and did an about-face. Trotting to the bathtub, she dipped her hoof tips in, and quickly sank well past her withers.

It just didn’t make any sense. Why would Rarity trust her? She couldn’t even make her own breakfast, let alone be responsible for a full-blown business. Even more weird was how Rarity kept mentioning stuff about the weather, and how hot she was. She wasn’t hot.

Sweetie blushed, and turned on the cool water tap for a bit. Well, maybe a little. But that couldn’t possibly be what she meant.

As the water cooled to a more comfortable temperature, Sweetie Belle allowed herself to sink lower into the water. The odd, tingly sensation returned to her. At first it felt like the water was lapping against her mane, but then the sensation continued across her body, below the level of the water.

Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, letting the clear mist clean her sinuses, and allowed herself to sink lower into the water, almost to her nose as she frowned—thought—this was her thinking pose.

She closed the tap, allowing the silence to encompass her.

First all the weird items in her bedroom, then this, then Rarity was gone, and the boutique was rearranged—though, admittedly, it was an improvement—and now this weird letter.

Sweetie Belle relaxed and allowed her hooves to roam as she thought.

There had to be a reason. Was this some kind of weird joke? One of Twilight’s spells? Ponies did say the world would end when Twilight succeeded Celestia. Is this what’s happened? Has the space-time continuum gone bust?

A slight itch niggled at Sweetie’s thighs. She scratched at it, shifting in the water.

Nah, that couldn’t be it. Those ponies were crazy, after all—The itch wasn’t quite gone. It had moved up a little. Sweetie let her hooves roam, rubbing along her thighs where it felt nice.

The water was calming. Extremely relaxing.

She knew Twilight. Sweetie knew she wouldn’t destroy the world... intentionally, so maybe this was one of those kx-end-of-the-world whoswhatisits, where nopony in particular was to blame? And maybe Twilight and her friends will have it wrapped up in about twenty minutes?

Her hooves grazed across something extra sensitive, a spot where it felt like all the itches seemed to be centred. She rubbed against it again, and Sweetie felt a gasp escape her lips.. She almost slipped down in the back and had to catch herself on the edge.

She continued.

Well, it had already been way more than twenty minutes. She glanced at the clock on the bathroom wall, reading the time as well past 10:00.

She stretched out her hind leg above the water and turned on the tab again to let in more cool water. Sweetie Belle could feel her breathing pick up, almost at a drastic pace as she turned her hoof motions to little, circular gyrations.

It felt good. Way too good.

“Ah...” She breathed out, almost a gasp. “Maybe. Maybe I’ll just...”

Sweetie let her eyes drift closed for a moment, letting her concerns waft away from her. No matter what happened, she decided, no matter what caused it, somepony was going to fix it. She didn’t have to do anything, but just lay back and...

She pressed her hoof firmer against that special spot between her legs. The tingly, hot sensation was gone, replaced with nothing but pure pleasure. A ticklish, glowing warmth that spread from every point she touched, eliciting twitches and mewls from Sweetie’s lips and she ventured deeper, harder.

Her body reacted and she flinched, edging away from whatever it was that was building inside her. As if by instinct, Sweetie Belle felt her leg lifting out of the water, and she used her free hoof to hold it up, to get better traction as she ground the soft pad of her frog against the soft flesh between her legs.

“Mmmf... yes...” She mewled. “That’s—oh Celestia, why did I never try this before?” Harder, she pressed, feeling the lips part—the flesh trembled as separated them and grazed a tiny, sensitive bud with the tip of her—

There was a loud splashing as water overflowed out of the bath and Sweetie Belle jolted back to the present. “Oh sh—” She jumped to close the tap, splashing waves across the bathroom floor.

~ ~ ~

Sweetie Belle had returned to admiring herself in her bedroom mirror. The strange new curves of her body moved in an unnervingly unnatural way. Unfamiliar new muscles flexed below her coat as she stretched her neck and bent her legs to get a proper look at herself in the mirror.

Her mane was wet—damp still from her bath, and the towel was doing little to stop it from dripping back into her eyes. A thin trickle of fluid dribbled behind her ears, running from beneath the towel over her mane, and from beneath her tail as she moved it slightly in the open air.

She frowned slightly, trying a flick of her tail, and flinched at the sprinkling of fluids that smattered across the mirror and the carpet below. She could have sworn she’d dried herself well, or at least as well as she could—she was still getting used to her new magic, and getting the towels to do her bidding had proven to be a challenge for the ages.

Sweetie made a mental note to go back and properly clean up the mess in the bathroom, but, for now—she could have sworn she’d dried herself under her tail. That, at least, she’d managed to do.

The air hung thick around her with steam and the fresh smell of the shower. Shampoo, conditioner, soap and wet fur hung around her, and yet Sweetie’s nose still wrinkled at the smell of something else in the air, something more... subtle.

She took another sniff.

It was her.

Keeping her eyes on the mirror, Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow and inched her way closer to the mirror. She felt herself arch her back slightly, and the faintest tingle of something between her legs urged her to keep going—so she did. She bent her back and pushed up her butt slightly, trying to get a better view in the mirror.

There was something about this position that felt right, like it was the single thing she was made to do, and the one thing her body wanted like nothing more in the world, than to stay like this and be filled by a—

Sweetie snapped her eyes shut and pulled her face away; taking a deep breath as she shoved the tingling of her nethers to the back of her mind, along with the imagery her mind had just been about to conjure up. The mental image of Button on the bed with his—

She opened her eyes again, blushing—cheeks tinged red as she forced herself to look into the mirror again—at herself. Her cheeks darkened further as she tentatively nudged her tail aside, spread her legs, and prodded tentatively at her exposed self.

It was different than she was used to. She’d seen her vagina before on multiple occasions, of course. It was hard not to notice it, after all, especially you were going around with basically nothing on for most of the day. Getting a few glances in once or twice was inevitable like that.

Hey, she couldn’t count on her hooves the number of times she’d seen other colts’ and fillies’ bits during school. Four times, at least, and that wasn’t even counting the teacher and various adults she’d seen around Ponyville.

And yet, now, she’d never seen any of them, or even herself like this before.

She turned her body to face the mirror more directly, moving her tail aside with a more deliberate motion to get it all out of the way—to properly take in the sight of her sex in front of her.

The lips of her pussy had puffed up slightly. They weren’t nearly as pert or tiny as they were yesterday, when she was... younger? Younger had to be the word. They’d puffed up so much and were starting to look a little more pinkish red.

A twitch of her tail sent a few strands of hairs brushing over her lips, and a shock of her system was sent from her sensitive lips. And oh Celestia were they sensitive. Even at the slightest touch of her magic, Sweetie could feel her lips tremble, and retract away, as if pressuring for something, anticipating the pleasure that would erupt through them.

She couldn’t help but gasp, and bit her lips as she forced herself to continue her exploration.

Sweetie Belle steadied her magic. Very gently, she traced around it, exploring the outer edges of her sex. Her vaginal hood trembled and twitched, and her fur was standing on end as her magic tingled against the sensitive hairs.

She found herself holding her breath as she watched her body’s response. Electric tingles washed through her entire body, almost making it difficult to stand still. A knot tightened in the bottom of her stomach, causing her breath to hitch in the back of her throat, and Sweetie quickly let it out with a soft gasp.

“Ah—” she breathed, sighing as her magic slowly faded.

Her lips winked at her reflection in the mirror, glistening and slick with fresh lubricant. A side-eyed Sweetie Belle watched as a stream of clear fluid reached its way from the opening of her slit, sparkling in the sunlight as it stretched towards the floor and hung there, as if teasing her to let it snap.

Sweetie lifted her leg slightly, moving slowly and deliberately to keep the drip from falling. She used her magic to inch it higher and reached with another green tendril to feel around her lips, tongue sticking out, dabbing at her lips, with concentration as she tried to catch the drop of liquid.

The droplet broke at the first contact, slung sideways and stuck itself to her other leg, where it hung steady, slowly soaking into her fur.

Sweetie Belle halted a gasp as she watched the drop turn into a sticky slime trail that traced down her leg, still connecting with a string to her pussy where it wobbled and shook in her breeze, jostled slightly by the heaving of her chest.

As the last bit of moisture reached her hoof, Sweetie Belle bit her lips and forced herself to ignore it. The carpet was absorbent, one of those expensive Persian kinds that Rarity would have killed her for soiling, but perhaps nopony would notice just one drop.

She took a sigh, swaying her tail to air away the last remnants of the droplets, and turned her eyes back to the mirror, focusing first to the sparkling pears of water scattered across its surface, and then through it, back onto herself.

Her eyes met with another Sweetie Belle—looking slightly older than she felt, with a deep blush in her cheeks and what looked like the subtlest hints of a smile. Their expression quickly changed to embarrassment as Sweetie averted her eyes from herself.

She focused on her vagina again, using her magic to inch closer, slowly, gently, parting her lips to give her a view inside, exploring deeper as if curious to see just how far it went.

Every part of her body was tingling. Her pussy lips bent against her magic, trembling as they were pushed aside, spread apart and tingling with this urge that pushed her to go on. It was like every part of her was begging, yearning, for something, somepony, she thought.

It wanted to be filled. A primal urge was driving Sweetie Belle, watching in awe as the pink folds of her pussy opened up to her, leaking with a thickening layer of fresh arousal—muscles clenching around her magic, shaping it into a rod so perfectly moulded to fill out her insides and touch those very bits that wanted to be touched.

“W-Wow...”

Sweetie Belle gawked. Not so much at the sensations as at the sight in front of her. She watched as her pink folds were put on perfect display, wet and glistening with the fresh heat that raged inside her.

Was this what Rarity meant in her letter? Was this her ‘heat’ that she was talking about?

Somepony seemed to agree, as her engorged clit took the moment to flex. It winked against her magic, pushing out a fresh droplet of her arousal to the floor.

She’d never seen herself like this. It was doubtful if she’d even seen Rarity like this, and Rarity was always the sexy one of the family... Why was she thinking about Rarity like this? When has she ever thought of anypony as sexy?

Sweetie’s mind swam for a moment as a fresh wave of her heat washed through her. Her pussy winked another time, splashing a fresh coating of liquids across the mirror, and a new dose of her scent into the air, causing her nose to wrinkle again.

She let her magic dissipate and pushed herself back to her hooves, legs trembling as she turned around to face herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and she was glowing.

Whatever this was—whatever was happening to her—her tail refused to lower, and she had to clamp it down, trying to ignore the wetness that stuck it against her sensitive pussy lips.

She picked up a magazine she’d found earlier from the bedside table and levitated it between herself and her reflection, then flicked through the pages until she landed on a bookmark—a dog-eared page she had no memory of reading—and looked herself in the mirror, in the eyes.

Whatever was happening to her; she didn’t know what it was, why it was, who did it, or how it had happened, but there was one thing she couldn’t deny: she loved it.

And, like most things you loved and that weren’t going to last, she was going to make the most of it. If her name wasn’t Sweetie Belladonna-Mademoise-Belle, Celestia be her witness. “Sweetie Belle,” Sweetie Belle said, looking at her reflection. A subtle hint of Evil Belle flashed in the mirror’s eye as her smile grew. “You and me,” she said, “are going to have so much fun tonight.”