Monday, February 16th, 909 AB (9 days later)
Evening

Climbing out of the pile, Title extends her horn and casts Cleaning a few times before looking over her mates. It won’t be long until her wife will be too far along to join in these sessions. Thankfully Lemon and Amethyst are always happy to contribute to the cause. Since Cure’s ‘upgrade’ to his sire it’s become a whole lot more necessary to call in help.

Even with the musculature upgrades the growing stallion can easily outlast both she and Vines when he has a mind to. That’s perfectly fine in her book. The trips to the gym and the cheating muscle enhancements have turned Deed from a pretty good lay into something straight out of one of her novels. Just like the other fantastic changes that have come about over the last five months, she’s very grateful to her son.

She can’t help but chuckle at the fact that it’s thanks to their son that her husband can absolutely fuck her brains out. The really funny part is that Cure would probably happily say “you’re welcome” and mean it if she actually thanked him for it. The whole memory thing was scary at first, but the fact is that the family’s closeness has increased dramatically since the event, which is a miracle on top of a miracle as best she can figure.

She’ll never stop thanking the stars that whatever happened didn’t outright kill him, leave him permanently disabled or, instead of giving him the memories it did, turn him into some kind of sadistic nut job that just wants to hurt ponies. Whether Cure really is Edward reborn or he just inherited his memories, she still appreciates the fact that Ed was a good man, and definitely didn’t deserve the rough times he had to endure for the last decade of his life.

The knowledge he passed on to Cure not only, likely, saved him from making a fatal mistake early on, but has contributed immensely to the family’s overall happiness, not to mention financial success. It would also be nice to think that there’s more than just ‘the end’ when the inevitable finally does come.

As she hops off the bed she casts Cleaning one more time on herself, then looks in the crib at her perfect daughter. Bringing a new life into the world is always a little scary, but she is having the easiest time adapting to being a new dam that she’s ever heard of. Her parents were green with envy when she showed off the crystals Cure had enchanted and what a difference they made for child rearing.

They didn’t have any reason to complain, though, when he knocked about twenty years off of each one while they were in town. Unlike his normal customers she supplied enough magic that Cure’s pretty sure they legitimately are in their late twenties. He explained that her moms don’t have any viable eggs left, though, so if they want to have foals again an additional procedure would be needed. The three, unsurprisingly, politely declined.

It probably won’t be long before one of her sisters sends her a letter asking what the hay happened to their parents. She’ll have to talk to Cure about putting together some kind of package with a variety of onesie sizes and a dozen or so Cleaning, Warming, and Prestidigitation crystals included, that way she can at least share something with them.

Her mates’ families can almost all get and stay lost as far as she’s concerned. Vines’ whole family ostracized her for the grave sin of falling in love with a good stallion and having a colt with him, something that any family with half a brain would be thanking Celestia’s sun for.

Deed’s dam and sire are barely better. He doesn’t talk talk about them, but from what she understands the pair are barely more than conponies. Word of the family’s change in circumstances must not have reached them yet or they would be at the door, hooves out, insisting they’ve finally come up with a good way to get rich and just need some startup capital to get it off the ground.

Ridiculous. Want to get rich? Let the colt do his thing for another year and provide all the support and love you should have given to your son when he needed you most. Cure’s only directly collecting money for half, or less, of what he’s doing and he makes over ten times what the entire family used to make just last year.

Her wonderful, beautiful Savvy is laying on her right side, snoozing away, oblivious to the world. It’ll be about another hour before it’s time to feed her, and it’s definitely too early for the sweet thing to be sleeping, so Title reaches in, scooping her up in her forelegs and kisses all over the girl until she finally stirs.

“How’s my precious Savvy, hmm? You smell okay now, but I bet you’re working on a little surprise for your dam, aren’t you? Yes, I bet you are! C’mon Savvy baby, it’s too early for bed,” she coos, setting the girl on her withers. Her daughter lets out a big, squeaky yawn before sitting down and looking around the room in a daze.

With the filly situated, Title makes her way out the door, gently pulling it shut behind her, then freezes at an unfamiliar sound coming from downstairs. “What the hay?” she quietly asks, aiming her ears and turning her hearing up to maximum.

*CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

*CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

Cautiously, she approaches Cure’s door and peeks inside. The colt’s young, granted, but if there’s something nasty down there she knows he’ll make it regret its life choices. Sadly, he’s not in the room, which means one of three things.

Possibility number one is that he’s not in the house, which is unlikely given it’s probably coming up on seven o’clock and is pitch black outside. Two is just, if not more unlikely; something made it in the house and managed to subdue the colt somehow. She can’t rightly fathom how that would even happen at this point. That really only leaves number three, which is that Cure’s downstairs making that horrible crunching noise.

Figuring that’s the most likely case by a wide margin, Title slowly approaches the stairs.

*CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

“Cure?” she softly calls down.

*CRUNCH* *crunch* “Howd own mwa, wone secwond” *crunch* *crunch* “Sorry, momma, did I wake ya up?”

Sighing in relief, Title comes down the stairs to find the brown pseudo-alicorn-hippogriff thing sitting on something that looks like a cushion, but isn’t, while holding a half meter long quarter-split tree trunk in his talons. Not hooves, hands, claws, or feet. Talons, and wicked looking ones at that.

A large pile of wood is cut into split logs and neatly stacked by the fireplace, which would be normal if the family hadn’t been using Warming crystals to heat the house all winter long.

“Huh. That’s a new look. What the hay are you doing?”

“Eating,” he unhelpfully answers, then takes a bite out of the log. *CRUNCH* *crunch* *crunch* *crunch*

Title can’t help but note that, as best she can tell, his jaw unhinged and he just bit a half-hoof length clean off the end of a two-hoof diameter, quartered log like she would bite off a piece of a carrot. Even split like it is his mouth had to open more than a hoof for it to fit, let alone have leverage to bite down. Standing above him it was hard to see exactly what happened, and given the noise she’s not completely sure she wants to.

She stands there bewildered and watches as he takes bite after bite, cramming the remainder of the log into his maw in under a minute before floating another into his waiting talons.

“Cure… what the fuck are you doing?”

“I told ya, I’m eating,” he insists, taking another crunchy bite. “I need the mass.”

Rubbing her forehead, she can already feel the headache building. “Okay, I have like… I don’t even know. So many questions,” the exasperated mare sighs out. She glances over at her mat, levitates it closer to the horned, winged, taloned termite, then sets Savvy down before laying around her. “So first up, why the hay are you eating a tree?”

Shrugging, he explains, “I figure it’s a lot cheaper than eating all our food. Taste doesn’t really matter for what I’m doing, so instead of wasting the good stuff,” he motions to the kitchen, “I can just chow down on a tree that fell over. Free mass, ya know?”

“I guess,” she agrees noncommittally. “What the heck are you sitting on?” she asks. Leaning down, the… thing… is about a hoof and a half tall and just barely longer and wider than she herself is. It’s covered in dark brown fur and, unless her sense of smell is off, has the same scent as her son. There are some very odd noises coming from it too.

“Eh, just think of it as a cushion,” he deflects, taking another bite.

Title watches with furrowed brows as the colt, very quickly, chews the huge chunk of wood, then swallows. After a few more bites she warily asks, “Is your ‘cushion’ getting bigger?”

Cure exaggeratedly rolls his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Fine, jeez, yes. It’s extra biomass, mom. I’m building something.”

“What the fuck, Cure?!” she hisses. She scowls and points a scolding hoof at the annoying colt and demands, “You’re going to tell me exactly what you’re doing right now, you got it mister?!” Title feels a little bad about busting out the mom card on him. It’s a relief it works at all, honestly, and even though she doesn’t like to, sometimes it’s the fastest way to pry answers out of him. Odd, given he’s usually very forthcoming with explanations to anything she’s curious about.

With pinned ears and a ducked head he quietly explains, “It’s a disguise.” At her continued stare he continues, “You know that my talent lets me change myself for, basically, free, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it occurred to me that I never actually defined exactly when something becomes ‘me’ instead of being not me, ya know?”

“Oh… so you’re… what, eating the tree so you can use your magic on it easier?”

With an eager nod he confirms, “Exactly!”

“Why didn’t you just say so?”

With a weak shrug he mumbles, “I dunno. Figured you would freak out.”

“You do look pretty weird. I mean, your dam would probably freak out a bit. I don’t think your sire would, though… and you should know by now I wouldn’t be upset.”

“Awesome!” he yells, bouncing in place, “This is going to be so freaking cool when I’m done!”

“Yeah, I’d still like to hear what you’re working on, though. Also, is that a whole freakin tree?” she asks, looking over the logs. She’s exaggerating slightly. It’s a fair amount of wood, granted, but given the diameter of the split logs there had to be a lot more than just what’s there.

“Nah, that’s probably only about a quarter of it. I didn’t think I would need the whole thing, but I’m not sure if that’s enough either. Stupid thing took me three trips to bring in here.”

“I’m surprised none of the patrolling bats spotted you.”

“I’m nearly invisible with the camouflage and can jump-glide absurdly far, so I don’t even have to flap to cover a kilometer. The only reason it took more than one trip is because of the volume. I shoulda brought the whole thing and cut it up here, but I was able to wrap up enough in tentacles to get a third each time. If I do this again I’ll borrow one of yer bags instead.”

“Tentacles?”

“Eh, same thing I did with the tongue and… other things you very recently enjoyed. Loudly, I might add. Did the freaking Sound Bubble crystal run out?”

Title can’t help but blush at the accusation. “Maybe. I was distracted after your dam fell asleep,” she admits.

“I could tell,” he flatly responds, causing her blush to deepen. “Anyhow, they weren’t huge or anything. I sprouted a few to wrap around logs enough that I could cover them with the aura. They might as well have been luggage straps, just made of muscle.

“With the whole 90% effective mass reduction aura they didn’t need to be particularly strong. I mean, hell, I was moving over a hundred kilograms at once and it might as well have been ten or so. Earth pony strength combined with a pegasus aura is complete bullshit. I could probably pull eight thousand kilograms if I can hit it with the aura.”

“That’s… a lot of weight. What percentage am I up to now?”

“Just shy of thirty. You wouldn’t be able to cover the volume in your aura, but I bet I could sit on something that weighs twenty, maybe thirty thousand kilograms, cover it in my aura, and you could pull it. If we could get the house on some rollers the three of you could pull it easily. I bet that would burn a lot of calories though, lightening that much mass.”

“Huh. That’s nuts,” she agrees. Focusing back on his “cushion” she asks, “So tell me exactly what you’re workin on here.”

“Alright, so like I was saying, I never sat down to figure out when, metaphysically, something becomes part of me for the purposes of my magic, right?”

“Okay. So, judging by the setup here I’m guessing that happens when you eat it?”

“Not exactly,” he explains, tilting his head back and forth. “I’m not able to cheaply modify the wood until it hits my stomach and is digested. Really, stomach is inaccurate as all get out. It basically has to go through the whole process. If my GI tract weren’t so heavily modified my guess is I wouldn't be able to start freely messin with biomatter until it’s in the hindgut and the cecum and large intestine have had a go at it, so I’m kinda cheatin,” he explains with a firm nod.

He gives a thoughtful frown and clarifies, “Well, there’s no ‘kinda’ about it. I’m cheatin pretty hard, to be honest. I kinda figured y’all would be busy long enough I would be done,” he sheepishly adds.

“Well blame your sister,” Title says, nudging the foal. She floats over a plushie toy and, using her levitation, entertains her. “It’s too early for her to sleep, she needs to eat in a little bit, and when I left our room I heard somepony crunching away,” she finishes, giving him an accusatory glare.

“Damnit… I shoulda cast Sound Bubble myself. I didn’t think about that once y’all finished. Oh well, I guess I wouldn’t be able to hide this one too long anyhow. I really just wanted to have it ready before dam found out. You know how she is with changes and stuff.”

Title glances down at the lump he’s sitting on, assuming “sitting on” is even accurate, and nods in agreement. “Yeah, I can see her freaking out a bit here. So… is that thing basically a big stomach?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Sort of. I mean, like I said, stomach isn’t right. It’s an entire secondary GI tract. Just a lot more violent.”

“Violent?”

“Yeah, I made it so it digests food a lot quicker, so more potent acid, more aggressive breakdown, teeth… you know, the usual.”

“Honey I’m not a dentist, but I don’t think our guts have teeth.”

“I think that would fall under a gastroenterologist’s purview. And you’re right, yours don’t,” he agrees with a smirk. “I’m joking, mine doesn’t usually either. I don’t really even need it, to be honest,” he points out as he goes to take another bite.

“Earth pony muscles mince food pretty well without ‘em. I’m maximizing digestion speed, though, so by the time it gets past the hellscape that my esophagus is right now it’s basically shredded pulp. Once again I’m thankful for earth pony muscles pushing all that down.”

Title really regrets the enhanced eyesight for a moment there. The inside of Cure’s mouth right now looks unlike anything she has ever seen. Rows of small, jagged teeth, all the way from just behind his front teeth all the way back, each spinning and moving in different ways to completely annihilate anything that enters. And that was just from a quick glance while he took a bite.

“How are you biting through a huge chunk of wood like that anyhow? I mean, I know you’re strong but…”

“Griffons,” he mumbles, still chewing. Once he swallows he clarifies, “The griffon aura ability. It sharpens claws, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And talons, right?”

“I assume.”

“Why not teeth?”

“Griffons don’t… wait. Do griffons have teeth?”

“Not exactly but they do have hard tooth-like cartilage structures lining their beak and on their tongue. Have you ever looked in a goose’s mouth? Err, beak?”

“I’ve fed geese, yeah. They’re weird. Nowhere near as weird as you right now, though.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, motioning to his face, “I’m very much aware this is some horror show shit right here. That’s why I was trying to get this all done before I went to bed. I try not to traumatize y’all too much, especially since that one time. Buncha wusses,” he finishes, mumbling more quietly, then smirking when his mom glares at him.

“So, you told me the griffon aura sharpens claws and talons, but I don’t think you ever actually explained it.”

“I didn’t have enough mass with the Hybrid Mark Two cells in them to really max out what it does before now. The more I eat,” he says, patting his second stomach, “the sharper it gets. There’s definitely some diminishing returns, but I’ve noticed an uptick in all my aura effects just over the last hour and a half since I got started. It probably caps out at about half of an average male griffon’s weight, so I’m basically there now with this thing. Or getting close, at least. This isn’t all solid, after all.

“The griffon aura effect seems like a specialized version of our telekinetic field with shorter range. It’s really freaking weird, though, because I can’t just form a sharp edge anywhere with it. I’ve noticed the resolution on my field has improved over the last four weeks and, especially, today, but in order to form a blade I have to have an actual claw or hard, sharp surface of some kind.

“My newest theory is that all of our aura abilities are somehow relying on keratin as an antennae, more or less. The griffon aura doesn’t want to form a sharp edge if I use bone instead.

“Hooves don’t work quite right either; when I project a field with rounded hooves, the edge,” he brings a back hoof forward to demonstrate, pointing to the outer wall, “will project a field, but it’s not very sharp. I guess it may help to like… dig into a tree or into the ground, maybe? Unless I make the edge finer, though, the field doesn’t seem to want to cut.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” she agrees. “But you can still project it out?”

“Yep. We would have to ask an actual griffon if they can do that, but I kinda suspect it may be some additive combination of our projected grabbing field somehow altering the behavior of the cutting field. Honestly I don’t want to ask a griffon because if that’s something they can do and haven’t ever tried then we’ll be giving them a potent weapon, potentially. The cutting field definitely seems to react to keratin specifically; both kinds too, alpha and beta.

“That’s fine for my purposes, though,” he adds with a shrug. “I can cheat and make fake teeth out of keratin a lot easier than I can other stuff, especially enamel.”

“I know the term but I don’t actually know what enamel actually is made of. Or the difference between keratin either.”

“Beta keratin is what birds and lizards have. That’s what’s in griffon talons, too. Mammals have alpha, which is softer and in horns, antlers, hooves and, strangely, griffon hind claws. Skin has some and fur is made of it too, which is why I’m thinking that the aura effects may all actually be running off of the protein somehow. I mean, that’s what horns are mostly made of too, after all.

“Ya know what’s really bizarre, and I know it sounds specist as hell, but I swear a lion musta knocked up an eagle or something at some point. Half their shit is one and half’s the other. They really are like a bird and a cat sewn together in a lot of ways.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they would be happy with you suggesting that, babe.”

“Right, no callin ‘em birdcats,” he easily agrees. “As for enamel, it’s the hard, see-through stuff on our teeth. It’s mostly made of minerals. It’s is a pain in the rear for me to work with without relying on my talent because it’s inorganic; I can force the body to make it, but I can’t directly fudge with it, just like when I eat rocks. That kinda sucks because it’s really tough stuff. Not a big deal for me with the enhanced bones, but for other ponies it’s inconvenient.”

“You’ve been doing dental crap forever, though… if you can’t make enamel how the hay have you been fixing ponies’ teeth?”

“By forcing the body to make it where it needs to be made. It is made by our body. I dunno what they’re called, but there’s cells inside a tooth that produce it. My talent moves them where they need to be, or makes them on the spot, and shapes it with protein structures. We’re talking microscopic stuff here, ma, so it’s not like you can tell. Besides, I can largely tell my power what I’m doing and let it go on cruise control at this point. At least with ponies, I can.”

“Cruise control?”

“Autopilot. You ever leave the house and get to work and think, ‘How the hay did I even get here?’ You weren’t paying attention and still went where you meant to, right?”

Thinking for a moment, the pink mare nods. “Yeah.”

“That’s what I mean. I don’t have to plan out every single tiny cell’s placement. It may be more magic-efficient if I could, but brains don’t have the necessary processing power, so I visualize the end goal and feed magic in to get there. Like I said, relying on my talent. It does the heavy lifting, basically.”

“Ah. Gotchya.” Title stops to look down at Savvy, who is now finished playing and is content to lay half-on her dam’s side, booty still on the cushion. “Guess she went back to sleep.”

“Yep, but I think you’re gonna need to hit her with a Cleaning here in a couple minutes, ma. I’m going to give her the ‘I need to potty’ signal. Let’s see if our training is working.”

As Cure munches down the rest of the log, Title idly watches the show. It’s amazing and, at the same time, kind of scary to see how quickly he can chew up kilogram after kilogram of wood.

“So, I’m guessing the griffon aura helps maintain the cutting edge? And you’re using earth pony strength to power your jaws? I don’t see gigantic muscles on your face like I would expect you’d need to do that to a log.”

“Yep. My front teeth are way, way sharper than any normal creature would have. I would probably bite my own tongue clean off if I wasn’t paying attention. Griffon tooth-like structures are made of cartilage instead of keratin or they would probably do exactly that.”

“Neat. So -” she pauses as Savvy stirs and starts letting out little whines. “What’s wrong baby?” she asks the little filly. Savvy looks up at her dam and chirps out a few more warnings. “Wow, it seems to be working already. Is the platform in the bathroom?”

“Yep, I put one in each bathroom, ma. It’s under the sink. Better hurry, you only have a minute or two, tops. I’m cheating, helping her hold it in. Go on,” he says, waving to the bathroom. As the pair reach the edge of his range he pulls off his hind hoof walls, adding them to his horn so he can extend the aura and keep her in range without getting up.

Cure keeps eating, munching away at log after log as Title takes Savvy to the potty. She’s able to get her out of the onesie and positioned on the platform, though Savvy clearly isn’t happy about it. Cure uses his magic to help her go potty, gross as it may be. Sadly, no parent, or older brother in this case, gets through raising a child without having to do some pretty gross stuff, though helping anal and bladder muscles contract is a new one.

He pauses, mid bite, looks down at the log he’s chewing, scrunches his snout, then after a shrug, goes back to eating. “My life is fucking weird,” he admits between bites.

Title finishes cleaning and redressing Savvy, then praises the girl and brings her back to the cushion, cooing and kissing all over her the whole way. Cure creates a second pouch on the right side of his neck for the extra keratin to be stored, figuring it may be useful at point to have everything needed for a second horn or just a double-sized one.

“It’s a work in progress,” Title admits, “but at least she didn’t scream and cry when I put her over the toilet this time. I’m amazed, honestly… if she can learn how to use the potty in six months I’ll be freaking thrilled.”

“Meh, who knows? Human babies take anywhere from a year and a half to three before they’ve got it down. Then again, the freaking squirrels here are smarter than human babies, so maybe she’ll figure it out by month six. She’s doing great just realizing that the feeling means anything at all at this point. Hell, she’s only four weeks old.”

“Yep, now go to sleep, Savvy baby,” she whispers, laying her daughter back on her side. “She’s so wonderful,” she coos, nosing at the girl’s side and grooming her ears. It’s only a moment later that she’s laid back down against her dam’s tummy snoozing away again.

“So,” she says, “you’re eating all this so you can make a disguise? How’s that going to work? Won’t it stop being ‘you’ after it’s not connected to ya?”

“I’m not exactly sure how that part works, but so far, no. It seems like metaphysically, at least for a little while even when not attached, something remains ‘me’ for the purposes of my magic. My horn,” he motions to his head, “is the perfect example. It was part of me even when it was detached. When I put it back on it was still me.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Title slowly agrees. “I mean, somepony’s ear or wing or whatever were cut off you would still consider it a part of them. Of course that means if you are separated from this for too long you’d have to start over.”

“Eh, so what? It’s only taking me an evening, and as long as I ‘attach’ to it I bet that resets the counter. It always did with my horn, even when we left it here for a few days when we went to Canterlot. It takes more energy to resize a onesie,” he motions to Savvy, “than it does my whole leg because that hasn’t been ‘attached’ to me for a few weeks.”

“Interesting. So what’s this gonna look like when you’re done?”

“Eventually an alicorn. A big one, like the boss lady. Or maybe a sphynx like I suggested to the girls. I would prefer to keep it ‘pony’ though. It has to be big enough that I can fit in the abdomen.”

“I… wait… is that legal? Can you pretend to be an alicorn?”

“I don’t see why not. Maybe if I was trying to pretend to be some kind of royalty, but just being an alicorn? There shouldn’t be a law against that. Besides, I won’t actually claim to be one, I’ll just look like one, but with a normal mane. In fact, I’ll insist I’m just a regular pony, loudly and repeatedly.”

Incredulously, she asks, “A regular pony? That’s eighteen hooves tall, winged, with a horn?”

“Yep, just like everypony else.”

She shakes her head with a scoff. “That’s dumb. Everypony will lose their mind.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll think there’s another fucking alicorn, moron!” she hisses, throwing her hooves up in exasperation, careful not to be too loud to upset her daughter.

“And again, I’ll just politely inform them they’re mistaken.” With a dumb, confused look he says, “Alley Corn? Never heard of her! Sounds like a weird urban farmer to me! I’m just a tall, swole pegacorn, really. I ate all my veggies when I was growing up!”

Title gives him a deadpan stare for a moment, takes a calming breath, then asks, “What are you going to do if… when the Guard shows up?”

“Leave?” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Just leave?”

“Or ignore them. I mean… what are they going to do, arrest me for having wings and a horn?”

Nodding, she says, “They may try.”

“Well then I’ll definitely leave,” he smugly answers.

“What if you can’t?”

“Why couldn’t I?”

“They’ll stop you!” she shouts.

Rolling his eyes he asks, “How would they stop me?”

“With force, duh?”

Cure scoffs at the notion. “Then I wish them luck. Who the fuck would be dumb enough to start a fight with a huge-ass alicorn like that?”

“I… yeah, true. What if they order you to go with them?”

“I’ll say no thanks. Insistently if necessary.”

“Even if being an alicorn isn’t illegal, ignoring a guard’s commands is.”

“While ignoring lawful commands may be illegal, ignoring unlawful ones shouldn’t be. I mean, if a guard walks up to you, hoofs you a spear, and says, ‘Stab that pony’ are you gonna?”

“No, that’s dumb.”

“It is,” he agrees. “How is ‘I’m arresting or detaining you for being what you are’ any less dumb?”

Title lets out a sigh, shaking her head in exasperation. “This is a terrible idea that will blow up in your face.”

“I don’t see how it could,” he argues. “It’ll deflect attention away from the colt a town over. Especially if this alicorn is female.”

“You’re making your disguise a mare?”

“I figure it’ll draw less immediate attention than a stallion. Besides, it’ll only appear to be a mare on the surface. It’s not like I’m growing it a damn womb or anything.”

“I’m not sure how I feel about that, to be honest.”

“I’m a little young to be four hooves deep in a mare, huh?” he asks, bursting out laughing.

“Oh my stars, Cure… seriously?”

“Get it?! Four hooves, like the length of a big schlong? HAH! Brilliant!”

“Upsetting is more like it.”

“Of course you could argue I’m too old to be in a mare like that, I guess. It depends on how you wanna look at it. She’ll be in her thirty-seventh, thirty-eighth trimester, roughly,” he says with a chuckle.

Title can’t help but snort out a laugh, nodding along. “That would be a great way to make your escape, right there. Pop out the back of the disguise and act like you don’t know what the hay’s goin on.”

“HA! That would be awesome. Just launch myself out the back half like an escape pod. ‘I don’t know what happened, officer! I was outside playing, then it got all dark all the sudden, then I fell asleep in a warm, safe place. It smelled kinda funny though and I think I need a shower!’”

Title is doing her best not to wake Savvy, laughing her head off quietly while turned away. The shaking doesn’t seem to be bothering the girl yet, fortunately. “Sun and stars, Cure… I don’t even know how big of a mess that would cause.”

“Well I wouldn’t do that anyhow. I guess if I tried this I would be bringing several teleport and shield crystals along, that way if the guard got really shitty I could teleport myself straight up in the air a hundred meters and take off flying. I’m confident I would be far faster than any pegasus could be, and it’s not like they could actually hurt me in the air anyhow. I could also just go way higher than they can and get away that way.”

“Uh huh. And if the princess just happens to be in the area?”

Shrugging helplessly he admits, “Confess instantly and on the spot. Well, once we have some privacy. I ain’t fighting that hard, and she would probably be more pissed at the guard than at me anyhow. I mean, I plan on healing, not starting a rebellion.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess she probably would be a little upset if the guard chased off another alicorn, let alone a healer.”

“I bet so. The nice thing here is that with all this extra mass, all specced with the Hybrid Mark II mitochondria, my magic regeneration will be several times what it is now. I’ll go from empty to full in a few minutes. I bet the grabbing aura will be fucking nuts too. I’ll have double the mass of dad and then some.”

“You really need to consider not making this an alicorn, Cure. I think the sphynx would be better. Or, are there any other mythological creatures in your memories that would work? You definitely don’t wanna pretend to be a dragon or some kind of griffon.”

“Well centaur is sure as hell right out.”

“Centaur?”

“Imagine a minotaur from the waist up stuck on top of a pony’s body from the withers back and you basically got it.” After giving himself a very careful face-talon he uses his horn to project an Illusion. “I swear, I ALWAYS forget I can do that. Anyhow, Tirek is a centaur and he’s in Tartarus right now. I definitely don’t want to twig that memory.”

“Oh, right, you mentioned him before. What else can you do?”

“Uhh… I think there’s a deer version of an alicorn. Peryton? That… feels right, I think,” again, he projects an illusion of approximately what that would look like.

“I think the deer may object.”

“Deer are sapient?”

“Yeah, very reclusive though. There are non-sapient deer too, so it can be a little confusing at times. You can tell by their eyes really quickly, though. Sapient ones are forward facing, the animals are more on their sides.”

“Weird. You’d think they would call themselves something other than deer then. If their reclusive that’s not a bad option though. So the pery-whatever can go on the maybe list. Shame I can’t just do human. Their abdomens are too small for me to hide in. Unless I made a giant that would scare the shit out of everypony.”

“Yeah, you definitely don’t want anything scary.”

“I could do a big, winged bunny. You all thought it was adorable as hell.”

“Huh… that may actually not be a bad idea. I can’t imagine a guard attacking that.”

“There’s also wolves, foxes… It would have to be quadrupetal for a large enough abdomen, so no birds or kitsune or anything.” At his mom’s raised brow he explains, “Human, typically female in literature, with fox features like a fur coat. I think the wolf or fox would be best. More aerodynamic, even if they are carnivores.”

“Yeah, I suppose. You do realize that no matter what you choose they may just burn a letter to the princess as soon as some strange creature starts healing others, right?”

Cure lets out a sigh, nodding in acknowledgement. “I don’t suppose y’all would be okay with me flying across the ocean and doing this at a Gryphonian port instead, would you?”

“Mmm… I probably would if you stayed high enough just because I can’t imagine anything out there being a threat to you. Your dam would lock you in your room and eat the key if you even suggested it.”

“What about if I just approached ships still out to sea? Like… a few kilometers off the coast? I could fly high, spot a ship, come in, request permission to board, offer healing services, then take off. No guard at all.”

“Pegasi patrol over the water too, ya goof. You would have to be more than a kilometer or two out.”

“I could go farther out. Hell, I could fly to the capital and back in an hour and a half in that thing, I bet.”

“How?”

“Earth pony strength and pegasus aura makes me insanely fast, and I never tire, so I could go full tilt the whole time. When I use mage armor and chitin plates to reduce leading edge drag I can go way faster than a pegasus can.”

“You’ve already done that?”

“Ummm… Maybe once? I didn’t go all out though. I was just testing some ideas.”

“Glacial.” The one word accusation is evidently spot on. Cure does his best to project indifference, slowly turning away from his mother’s flat stare.

“Maybe,” he says again, failing to maintain the innocent look.

“Uh huh… Lemme guess.” Title changes her voice to a poor imitation of a little filly, “Oh Cure! Your wings are sooo big and strong. I wonder how fast you could go if you really tried!” then shoots him a smug look when he blushes.

“Your impression sucks,” he mutters under his breath, ears pinned back.

“Close enough, though, ain’t it?”

“Yeah,” he reluctantly admits. “We went northwest towards Hollow Shades and did a speed test. I’m pretty sure I could break the sound barrier if I tried. Again, earth pony strength on a pegasus is bullshit. Add in my biomanipulation and… well, yeah. I’m wondering what would happen if I had a keratin cone ‘cutting’ the wind ahead of me. You shoulda seen Drift! She was sooo freaking jealous,” he finishes with a beaming smile.

“I bet she was. You better not upset that girl too much, Cure. She’s the type that gets scornful.”

“Oh please,” he dismisses, waving a talon. “I think she’s fallen for me harder than Dawn has. You should see how excited she gets every time I give her alicorn wings. If we were five or six years older I’m pretty sure she woulda pinned me down by now.”

“She’s already a year and a half older than you. Don’t be surprised if she does that way before then.”

“Ugh… too squicky. That’s future Cure’s problem anyhow. That jerk can deal with horny teenage years, I’m more interested in coming up with a way to get some more scans,” he says, taking another bite.

“I don’t disagree that you shouldn’t go hoppin on whatever female raises her tail for ya, honey, but why do you say it’s squicky?” Holding up a placating hoof she finishes, “I’m really just curious.”

He nods in acceptance, finishing chewing up his mouthful of tree. “Sorry, tryin to chew thru this before everypony’s up,” he apologizes, getting an indifferent shrug from his mom. After swallowing he explains, “Nah, it’s fine. That’s a legitimate question. On one hoof…” he pauses, looking down before continuing, “talon, Heavy and I are the youngest of the group.

“Even amongst humans a teenager ‘scoring’ with an older girl was socially acceptable. Almost respected, in fact, as long as ages were close-ish. Hell, when Ed was in high school the guys actively tried to get in some of the teachers’ panties… especially this one teacher that taught art.”

Smiling wistfully, Cure explains, “She had a pretty face, nice legs, and one helluva set of tits. Ed would volunteer during study halls, err, empty slots in his school schedule typically used for doing homework. Anyhow, he would volunteer to help her as like a teacher’s aide. For one he liked playing with clay and stuff, but the main reason was she was hot.”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned human fascination with teats before. I kinda get the association between ‘em and child baring, but it’s still weird. At least, to a pony. I dunno, maybe it’s something minotaurs or other bipedal creatures notice more.”

“Yeah, I dunno. I haven’t seen what a female minotaur looks like yet, but the male we met in Canterlot looked like something straight out of a video game Josh played. Anyhow, so the typical human outlook on a younger male bangin an older chick is, ‘go for it.’ The fact that our society not only agrees, but encourages it to the point where females actively pursue males makes it more difficult, if anything.

“Especially when, for the most part, there’s little to no repercussions. Ponies don’t just get unexpectedly pregnant except for a few weeks out of the year. Pound away any other time and, aside from the few easily cured STDs, there’s little to worry about.

“Sex is far more of a leisure activity and casual affair here as a result and society doesn’t stigmatize anypony for going at it. It’s worse for me because of the influence of the memories.”

Shrugging, he adds, “Mine or not, I don’t think anypony could say a lifetime of memories shoved in your head isn’t going to change you.” Title simply nods in agreement. “So yeah, that part of the human memories says ‘bang away’ and everything pony agrees, far more vocally even. The problem is that human standards changed a lot over Ed’s life.”

Title nods in understanding. “I’m guessing the age difference thing became a bigger issue?”

“It did, but age was only a part of it. A large part of the problem was based on power, as abstract of a concept as that is sometimes. One person with a lot of power being intimate with another that has very little or no power.

“So a twenty year old female teacher sleeping with an eighteen year old male student went from something the dude would brag about in Ed’s teens to something that would land the teacher in prison and permanently labeled a sex offender by the time he was forty. At least, I think it would in most of the country.”

“That… seems strange. Dumb, even. Eighteen was an adult in that society, right?”

“Yes, but again… power. If they weren’t student and teacher nobody would have any problem with it, but the power she had over him made it illegal. I’m not 100% sure about the sex offender part, but she would probably be arrested and would certainly lose her job.

“Make him seventeen and five days short of his eighteenth birthday and it’s a thousand times worse, again, I think. It may have varied from state to state. Regardless, there’s a huge power imbalance between me and my friends, completely ignoring the mental age part.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, “but there’s going to be a huge power imbalance between you and, likely, anypony you ever meet. At least, on some level. Because of the stuff you know that no pony normally would, your talent is so absurdly powerful that if that’s the standard you use you’ll be severely limiting your options. Especially if you keep working to develop your magic capacity.”

“Right. I know. The power difference is less important if I tell them about my memories and everything else, though, because they’re accepting that compared to being unaware or flat out refusing to act based on those factors.

“Informed consent is important, not just for me using my talent on somepony. Telling them about those memories is something I would prefer not to do until we’re older, which will create a completely different, huge flaming mess.”

“Because you’re keeping secrets from them then. Again.”

“Mmhmm,” he hums around another mouthful. “Exactly. And just like any other secret, the longer it’s a secret the worse it is when it finally comes to light.”

“Have you considered telling them? Maybe at least a version of the truth… like, ‘Hey something weird happened at my birthday last year and I got a bunch of memories crammed in my head.’”

“Many times, but -”

She finishes, interrupting him and answering her own question. “They would have questions about the memories and, coming from a completely different world would raise more questions and the whole thing would be a mess.”

“Yep. And they would, again, be forced to either say nothing and ostensibly lie to their parents, at least. That doesn’t even get into the whole question as to whether the memories make me pursuing a filly my own physical age the act of a child predator or something. That ticks both the ‘power imbalance’ and the age discrepancy problem all at once and in a big way.”

“You’re eight either way, Cure,” she insists.

“Am I? Age is a somewhat arbitrary measure when you factor in the fantastical. When the Crystal Empire reappears are all the foals technically still foals or are they now technically over a thousand?”

“Foals,” she instantly answers.

“Okay,” he agrees with a nod. “Better example. I create a deaging process that, instead of making somepony twenty five or so, screws up. Too much power got poured in or whatever, so now they’re ten instead. Are they a foal or not?”

“Did they keep their…” she pauses and has a look of realization.

“Memories?” he finishes, smirking.

“Okay. That’s actually a really good analogy. Couldn’t you… I dunno, re-age them?”

“I could if I scanned them first, but then the memory issue comes up again. Would I be killing a foal to turn them into an adult? Did I kill the adult if they didn’t keep their memories? In many ways, I would say yes to both. It’s a classic catch twenty two.”

“Unfamiliar term, babe.”

“Ah, that’s a newer expression for humans. It’s from a book and refers to a scenario where there’s not a single right answer, basically. I think, specifically, the two options have to be mutually exclusive and both have negative outcomes to really nail the meaning right, but that fits the scenario I described almost perfectly.”

“Right. You can’t do both and either way, depending on how you look at it, somepony kind of ‘dies.’ So, how do you think you’ll deal with this?”

“Ask the boss lady for a ruling to establish precedence should the issue of somepony specifically asking for that come up. I don’t know that I’ll necessarily agree with her answer, but from a ‘cover my rear’ standpoint if Princess Celestia says that the newly made foal is indeed a foal, even with their memories intact, then at least I’ll feel less guilt if I do end up in a relationship with somepony my own age.”

“And if she says the de-aged foal is technically an adult?”

“If they keep their memories I’m almost certain that’s what she would say. That and re-age them, I bet. I’ll have to have a serious conversation with the girls at some point over the next three years so they don’t feel like I’m giving them the cold shoulder. Maybe sooner.

“I think the context in which it’s presented will be paramount. ‘I was a forty seven year old human reincarnated as a pony’ is very different from ‘Somehow some weird ape creature’s memories got crammed in my head shortly after my 8th birthday.’ I damn sure ain’t bringin up future events.”

“No, I wouldn’t share that with anypony just yet. Maybe the princess eventually, but… yeesh.”

“Everything’s gotta be complicated, huh, mom?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, anyhow, the fact that the memories arbitrarily returned years later and the date alignment of my birth versus his death makes me think it’s probably the latter. If our worlds’ times line up then my guess is that the memory imprint took some time to travel through the aether or the void or whatever you want to call the space between universes before they, somehow, landed on me.”

“I dunno, babe. I guess getting a ruling from her highness is about the best you can do for now.”

“Yep. As far as options go, it’s about the best one I can think of. I kinda wonder what she herself does.”

“What?” Title asks, confused.

He shrugs and asks, “There’s a huge imbalance of power between her and normal ponies. Does she take lovers?”

“She does. Not publicly, but she has had lovers over the centuries. I’m sure that’s been really difficult for her, though.”

“Right,” he agrees. “For a million reasons, no doubt. No wonder she looked like she was going to cry for a moment there at dinner.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t mentally prepared for that,” she admits with a wince.

Scoffing, Cure nods along. “I bet not. Nopony is prepared to see Deus Sol Invictus cry.”

With a single raised brow Title asks, “Invincible sun god?”

“That’s what some stories called her. Celestia Sol Invictus. It means Unconquerable Sun. Remember how we talked about different versions of ‘Celestia’ having different levels of power depending on the story?”

“Right, I guess that makes sense. For the record, I have heard Celestia Sol before, but I think that’s just an unofficial title. Her name is just Celestia.”

“Eh, that’s what we call her now, but I’m almost certain that’s not what her name was at birth. I don’t think I’ll be on a first name only basis with her anytime soon regardless.”

“Dunno, babe. I guess we’ll figure that out in a couple months.”

“Yeah… so, back to my idea about flying out to meet boats that are coming in, you said pegasi patrol near land, right?”

“Yeah, at least a few kilometers out. I bet they have patrols watching for pirate vessels or hostile fleets or whatever, just in case.”

“I would hope so. I can go out a lot further and faster than a pegasus can, though. Also, unlike pegasi I can telescope my eyes thanks to owls and eagles, so at about five kilometers up I should be able to read the names of boats still fifty, maybe a hundred kilometers out to sea and fly to them in about five to ten minutes depending.”

“That’s insane.”

“I know. You could do it too if you wanted. Well, you won’t be able to go as fast, but still… seven, eight minutes maybe? At least, once the conversion is further along. Another two weeks, tops. Mansion in the sky, ma.”

“Huh. I still suspect you’d be spotted and the princess would eventually show up. She can fly here in an hour, after all.”

“It is possible,” he agrees, “but I would be long gone by the time they, A, spot me, B, send a message, and C, she flies all the way out. She’s the freaking princess, do you really think she would fly halfway across the country unless there’s a good reason to?”

“Like a wise-mouthed biomanipulator?”

“Which she took three and a half months to check on, remember?”

“Eh. True.”

“I would only need to go out a few times. Maybe just once. I would just have to do it at irregular times, maybe roll a couple dice and only go out when I hit a twelve. Supposedly things like that are a good way to throw off precognition, ya know? Base decisions off of random things. Not that dice rolling is terribly random, but still. As I understand it she’s not a very powerful precog anyhow. She just occasionally gets dreams.”

“I’m not going to say no,” she starts, “and I’m not going to say yes. I will say that, should somepony go out and do this a couple times and, and this is important,” she emphasizes, jabbing her hoof at him on each word, “not get caught, then I’m willing to pretend this conversation never happened. I swear if you get in trouble I’m going to have the mother of all I told you so’s ready when they drag your rear in the door, though.”

“Thanks ma!” he beams, then with a look of confusion he asks, “Wait… conversation? What conversation? What were we talking about again?”

“Uh huh. So anyhow, just how big are you making this thing?”

Cure motions to the stack of logs. “That big. I figure there’s about five hundred kilograms of wood. Any extra can just be turned into a plant or whatever. I also plan on experimenting with a few kilograms once the bit pouches I ordered get here. I’ll lose a couple percent this way, since I’m burning a fair amount of energy and all. It’s less than you’d think thanks to my modified GI tract.”

“So basically you’re going to crap dozens of kilograms?”

“More like a dozen or so. And you’re not completely wrong, but it won’t really be poop like you’re thinking. It’ll be, basically, pre-treated slurry. Gross, granted, but it won’t smell like you’re thinking because it won’t have all the same bacteria and stinky minerals in it like normal fecal matter does.

“Don’t worry, it won’t clog the drain or anything. It’ll be like… four or five hearty dumps, though. Jeez I wonder if a cleaning cantrip will help there. How the hay does that work, anyhow?” he wonders aloud.

“Try it and find out. I’d rather you do that than potentially back something up.”

“I could just sneak off into the woods and drop a massive deuce out there. Somewhere in the brush. I’ve been made to understand bears do that. Again, the dump will be distinctly non-pony in origin. By all appearances, at least.”

Sighing, Title shakes her head. “I would rather you just use the toilet if Cleaning doesn’t work. I think it can deal with a half dozen craps in a day.”

“Yeah, it’s not like I need to blow it all out at once. Just another bonus from having my talent; full bladder and sphincter control.”

“You joke but I’m sure there’s several older ponies that would happily trade their actual talent for that.”

“Probably. You know the saying. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘till it’s gone. On the other hoof, how much would it suck to have a cutie mark that’s a butthole squeezing out a loaf?”

“That would be embarrassing,” she agrees. “At least it would be useful though.”

“What’s the worst cutie mark you’ve ever seen, mom? I mean, you yourself, not ones you’ve heard of.”

“Counting. A younger filly in my school got a cutie mark with one, two, and three in an arc like a rainbow during math class one day. It was the only time I was afraid for the day I would get a cutie mark instead of being afraid I never would.”

“Holy shit, really? Just counting?”

“I think so. Granted she could count really fast and was always right, but yes.”

“Freaking Rain Man!” he shouts, wide-eyed. “That’s wild!”

“Rain man?”

“Classic movie, ma. Tom Cruise and Dustin Hoffman. It’s about this dude, Tom Cruise’s character, who finds out he has an older brother. The brother is mentally deficient though. He has a form of autism, I think. The details aren’t important but at one point Cruise’s character drops a bunch of matches and Rain Man, who’s actual name is Raymond, instantly counts how many matches fell.

“It’s kind of a sad story about how people with mental deficiency end up getting neglected and stuff, not necessarily out of maliciousness but kinda more out of necessity due to circumstances.”

Title looks absolutely stricken by the subject. “How could that ever be necessary?”

“In the movie I think Raymond accidentally hurt the younger brother by burning him with shower water that was too hot. The parents were afraid he would inadvertently do something else like that, maybe something permanent, so they put him in a group home or something.”

Title looks ready to blurt something out, but Cure doesn’t give her a chance.

“It was a movie Ed saw like thirty years before he died, so details are fuzzy, but don’t go getting all righteous on me,” he warns, pointing a talon at her, then at the stairs. “If her parents can turn their rears on my sweet, loving, beautiful dam when she’s pregnant, scared, and broke at fifteen fucking years old then I don’t want to hear a god damned word about how ponies aren’t every bit as heartless sometimes!”

Title raises her hooves placatingly at the impassioned colt, conceding the point. “That’s fair. Ponies can be pieces of shit.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles, releasing a deep sigh. “That was uncalled-for.” With a much softer look he again says, “I am really sorry, mom. You didn’t deserve that. It’s easy to forget I have pointy bits on the end of my legs instead of hooves,” he notes, holding up his right talons. “Don’t worry, if anycreature else ever points a talon or claw at ya I’ll feed them their own freakin wings.”

“It’s okay, sweetie. I know you didn’t mean anything by it. And I don’t think you have to go that far, either.”

“Lines must be established and never crossed without consequence,” he states with utmost conviction.

“Anyhow, yeah, your friend’s talent kinda sucks if that’s actually the limit of it. It could be fantastic for some things though. She would make a great quartermaster, inventory manager, or logistics worker, I bet. If a human had that ability they would put her in military reconnaissance and praise the stars to have her. Think of how fast she could determine an enemy force.”

“Huh. I never thought about that,” she agrees, slowly nodding. “Are there any talents you think would be worthless?”

“I suspect there aren’t any that are. At least, not completely. Obviously some are more valuable than others, but I really do believe that anypony could find something that their talent does that’s worthwhile. Ya know, something that came up on Earth was ‘adult’ marks. Like, one of the first things that went through my head when the memories hit was, ‘What would I do if I got a sex cutie mark?’”

“Oh yeah, those exist. I know of one stallion that has a sex cutie mark. He’s a unicorn, bright white coat. Little taller than average for them, too.”

Cure can’t help but snicker at that. “What’s his mark? A big ‘ol dong flopping about?”

Title snorts out a laugh, shaking her head, “No, it’s a profile of a pregnant pink mare, sat on her haunches.”

“Huh. That’s not too bad, I guess.”

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of a cutie mark that’s quite as obscene as a schlong would be,” she says with a giggle. “He makes a fortune in fashion, as a model, and, of course, every estrus season. Mares absolutely fawn over him, especially single unicorns.”

“Huh. Well, good for him. It sounds exhausting, though. I guess I should expect that in a world with fewer stallions. What does his talent actually do, though? Is he just huge or do the mares he plows always get pregnant or what?”

“The latter, if they’re in season. He can’t just knock somepony up without an egg.” She keeps talking over Cure’s muttered “amateur.” “He’s supposed to be pretty good in the sack too, but I think most of his fame is from the novelty of it. He does have a big schlong, too, but you’re aware that’s not always a good thing.”

“Yeah, you definitely don’t want a small closet scenario. That’s not fun for either party.”

“Small closet? That sounds like something stupid your sire would say.”

Chuckling, Cure agrees. “That’s exactly right, ma. How’d ya guess?”

“Eh, you’re usually a lot more candid than ‘closet’ and I don’t see you really asking your dam, so process of elimination.”

“Fair. It was right after I got my mark. I think you were busy doing some last minute paperwork when we had that talk.” Smiling fondly he tells her, “You should have seen dam. She looked like she wanted to either disappear or murder dad. Maybe both.” Cure can’t help but chuckle when he pictures his dam, glowing red from hooves to ears.

“Sounds ‘bout right,” she agrees. “You get back to eating,” she suggests, waving her hoof in a shooing motion, “I wanna see this.”

After a few minutes of Cure munching on the logs, Title holds up her hoof. “Why are you biting through the wood anyhow? Can’t you just dice it or even mince it with your talent?”

“Umm… because I’m kinda dumb sometimes? I’m not sure about mincing but I can definitely cut it into smaller pieces without exhausting my magic. I suppose it would be quieter and faster.”

The pair resume; Cure uses his talent to cut the logs into small blocks as he eats, Title reads a book and watches in fascination as Cure’s “cushion” continues to grow. About an hour in, Savvy wakes and demands her tithe, nursing from her dam, then playing with the knocked over rings Cure had made. She’s not stacking them, but she does like to chew on them enough that he’s had to do some repairs already.

So far her favorite toy seems to be something Edward had seen in a few doctor’s offices. He never knew what it was called but it has long, quarter inch thick wires, basically, that curve and do loops, anchored into a box with disks on them like an abacus. The human version had rubber or plastic coated metal wires; Savvy’s is more hardcore with bone wrapped in a thin, pulled-tight silk layer.

After another hour Cure has, finally, crammed a little under two Deeds worth of wood down his gullet. The process started slow, but as he gained mass the effect from the cutting field on the teeth and the capacity of the second GI tract increased, so it accelerated exponentially. He considered adding a mouth right on the stomach and just tossing logs in, but he wasn’t sure how his mom would react to that.

It only took another half hour for enough to digest everything, at which point he finally declared he was ready to begin.

“Alright, this may look a little weird,” he comments from atop the huge, round mass. His mom raises a single brow at the colt. “First thing I’m gonna do is turn the whole thing into a plant, then reshape it.”

“A plant? Why a plant?”

“It’ll just make it easier, trust me.”

“What about the mitochondria, though? If you change those won’t you stop getting magic from it?”

“Plants have mitochondria too, mom. Everything that’s alive does, at least as far as I can tell. It’s not as big of a change as you’d expect. It won’t really be a plant like you’re thinking. I’m not changing the blood to chlorophyll for example. It’ll be much closer to a plant, animal hybrid.”

The process goes much more quickly than Title would have expected. She supposes she should have seen that coming, though, as Cure can change a hoof into a hand in less than thirty seconds. The scale is much larger, but he’s still doing the same thing.

When he’s done he hops off the top of the ‘plant’ assuming that’s even the correct term, though he does still have an umbilical cord, of a sort, attached to his gut at the navel. It’s essentially a large rectangle of twisted red vines at this point, a fair amount larger than the princess’s barrel in all three dimensions.

“Ooohhkkaay… so what now, babe? It looks like a huge, heavy, scary, pony-eating shrub or something.”

“Yeah, but this will make it easier to reshape it. At least, it’ll remove the pressure to try to hurry or whatever. I can get the physical shape right, then transmute it all at once. It’ll also be… I dunno, less traumatic?” When she gives him a curious look he explains, “Think of it this way, if this was made out of meat and bones and whatnot and I was just casually reshaping it wouldn’t that bug the crap outta ya?”

“Me? Yes, absolutely. I still don’t get how you can casually change a hoof to a hand or,” she waves at his forelegs, “talons. I can deal, but it’s not like it doesn’t get the hairs on my spine up a little seein it.”

“Exactly. This way I can make it the right shape and, instead of my brain saying ‘you are rearranging another creature’s entire body’ I’m actually just shaping some wood and vines. It would be a lot easier if I was some kinda sociopath or whatever, but thankfully that’s not the case.”

With his cord still attached he casually sits on his haunches next to his mom and stares impassively at the plant. The whole night has been fucking weird, Title notes, but watching as a huge winged, horned wolf takes shape from the shrub is pretty bizarre, even relatively speaking. Cure shapes it over ten minutes and has it positioned so it’s laying on its barrel, head resting on the floor between its forelegs.

“What do you think, ma? Pay homage with white and gold? Go the goth route with darker colors? Frost wolfe white and blues? I could do the ‘arcane’ wolf; pink and purple with bioluminescent highlights. I feel like that would point straight back to me though.”

“Mmm now that I’m lookin at it I’m not sure if wolf is a great pick, honey. I think if that’s flying at a boat they’re gonna crap themselves.”

Cure looks the plant over from front to back. She’s right, of course. It’s a huge fucking wolf with wings and a horn. Who wouldn’t crap themselves if that was flying at them at five hundred kph?

“This is turning into a pain in the ass,” he mumbles. “Hey, speaking of asses, where the hay are all the donkeys?”

“Don’t call them asses!” Title instantly scolds. “That’s a derogatory name.”

“What? Really?”

“Yeah, dummy! Why wouldn’t it be?”

“On Earth that’s what they were originally called. People only called other people asses as an insult saying they’re stubborn. The name ‘donkey’ is relatively new.”

“Huh. Well, don’t call a donkey an ass. It’ll get ya punched.”

“That’s nice,” he dismissively says with an eye roll. “Where are they?”

“Mostly on farms,” she says with a shrug. “I think there’s some farms to the north, west of Parkdale that are donkey-owned. There’s not a whole lot of them.”

“Really? Do they have earth pony magic?”

“No. I don’t think they have any magic at all. They can grab things with their hooves like we can, but that’s it. I guess they are pretty strong, though, so maybe?”

“Huh. What about mules?”

“Mules?”

“Umm… on earth a mule is what’s born when a horse and a donkey have a foal.”

Title looks horrified at the thought, something Cure finds amusing. “What’s wrong, ma, not into donkeys?”

“Hey, I don’t judge, but no,” she defends, shaking her head. “Not at all, though. I can honestly tell you I have no idea what happens when a pony and a donkey have a foal, honey.”

“Okay, fair enough. On earth mules are sterile, but live longer and are usually smarter than horses. Horses and donkeys are close enough to produce a foal but not close enough to have it come out quite right. I think. Anyhow, back to the matter at… umm,” he looks at his talons, “talon? I guess?”

“Right. You suck at staying on topic,” she points out.

“You’re no freakin better,” he accuses. “At least I have a foal’s brain, what’s your excuse?”

“An annoying brat hopping from topic to topic?”

“... You know what, that’s fair. So anyhow,” he drawls out, waving at the wolf.

“Alright, fine. First off, pick a freaking herbivore of some kind. You’re the one always calling everypony wusses. Well, don’t give them a reason to be scared.”

“Maybe I’m going at this the wrong way. Maybe instead of flying I should go with something that swims.”

“In the ocean?!” she hisses. “Are you insane?!”

“What? Do you think a stupid shark could take me? Seriously?”

“Babe, there’s shit out there that would make a shark sprint the other direction!” Title pauses, cocks her head to the side, and adds, “I mean… if they could sprint. You know what I mean.”

“Really? There’s like, legitimate sea monsters?”

“Huge killer squids and shit, yes. One of those things could bite you in half before you even know it’s there.”

“Bullshit. I could do a freaking narwhal horn and anything within a… wait, that’s brilliant!”

“What?”

“Horn size dictates aura! I could fly over to the ocean somewhere on the coast, then just glide ten meters above the ocean with a gigantic ass horn. It doesn’t even need to be on my head! I could basically make the whole underside a two meter long horn. Solar said a horn’s aura usually extends a meter and a half per centimeter. He said there may be an upper limit, but at two meters long we’re talkin a three hundred meter aura.”

“Radius or diameter?”

“Radius. Huh… I wonder if differently shaped horns can change that… you know, like a parabolic dish?”

Title just gives him a blank look.

“Stay there, ma!” he shouts, then moves a couple meters away, reaches up, and removes his horn completely. “Okay, so no horn, no aura, of course. You’re two meters away…” he takes a big step back, “three meters away, so a two centimeter horn should barely get ya.”

“Okay…”

Cure removes two centimeters from the tip of the horn and sticks it on his bump. “Okay, yep. I’m barely getting your head and hooves.” Cure alters the small horn so that, instead of a simple horn, the top centimeter is curved into a parabolic dish.

“That looks really freaking weird, Cure.”

“Yeah, and it’s not doing anything, either. Hold on, I have an idea, but it’ll look even weirder.” From Edward’s memories, Cure knows that satellite dishes typically have a receiver of some kind in front of them that the parabola is focusing signals on, or that is sending the signal to the dish to broadcast out.

Cure had initially established that whatever metaphysical effect is happening that creates the aura relies on the horn, and given that griffon auras specifically respond to keratin, which is what horns are made of, it would be logical to assume that so long as keratin and the typical nerves are present in the horn itself, the reflecting dish is probably not all that important as long as it is make of keratin as well.

With this in mind he creates a two-part horn. The first is just a regular horn, short as it is at two centimeters. For the other half he peels off a layer from the remainder of the horn, curving it into a dish and placing it behind his short horn.

“Yeah. That did it,” he says, looking around the room. “It tripled my range. Good grief… I could take this huge chunk of wood, stand on town hall, spin a circle, and scan probably half or more of the town. Well, maybe not with walls, but whatever.”

“You look like a freaking idiot.”

“Thanks, ma.”

“Sure, sweetie. Seriously, though, that’s fantastic. So you could make one of those,” she says, waving at the dish, “and fly over the ocean and scan all the way down, basically.”

“Yep. Maybe. It depends on how deep it is. And how much water reduces range. The pond is the only body of water I’ve scanned and I didn’t use a horn there. It was all earth pony scanning.”

“You know, I feel dumb not thinking about this before, but what if instead of an alicorn you just go without a horn on? That completely changes the situation.”

“Seems like it’s a little too close to what I’m trying to avoid ponies assuming.”

“You think a gigantic winged female pony is too similar to you, a six hoof tall earth-”

“And a half!” he interrupts. Title gives him a flat stare until he sheepish defends, “Almost. I’m a centimeter under six and a half.”

“Fine!” she growls, “six and a half hoof tall earth pony colt. Better?”

“Yes,” he defiantly answers. “And to answer your question… I guess you’re right. The horn would definitely distance it from me though.”

“Yeah, and cause a riot potentially. You know how ponies react to the princess. If you go out there looking like another alicorn it’ll be in every paper across the country within days.”

“What if I went to the docks as a slightly taller unicorn and, when the Guard comes, teleport away? If I took each of the mids with me that’s… that would require I tell dam. Argh. I need more mids. Each one is good for a hundred meters. I could chain them and literally run into the woods if I need to escape. Once I’m in the woods nopony would ever find me.”

“Make ten scrolls, dummy. Between those, the two mids, and the mid-high that’s a kilometer and a half total. That would get you away with your speed.”

“Yeah… and once I’m out of line of sight I can change the disguise to whatever. Hell, I could turn into a tree and wait ‘em out.”

“Eh, you maybe should rush home. Somepony might decide to come see if the biomanipulator a town over has an alibi.”

“Shit! You’re right. How far away is Fillydelphia?”

“I’m not sure exactly. To get there by train you gotta go west almost to Foaledo, then north, then back east. It’s a long train ride. They’re working on a line up the coast but it’ll be a while. Flying? You could be there in fifteen to twenty minutes at the speeds you said you can go. There’s not nearly as many boats there, though. New Horseleans, Baltimare, or Manehattan are the major port cities.”

“And New Horseleans and Manehattan are both pretty far away.”

“Manehattan is another thirty minutes north maybe. New Horseleans is pretty damn far. Like, one and a half times as far as Canterlot.”

“Canterlot… I hadn’t even thought about that!”

“Are you serious?”

“Oh yeah, absolutely! I was going to tell the boss lady most of the stuff I can do anyhow. I’ll bring this,” he pats the plant, “along and see if I can have some fun with it while I’m there.”

Flatly, she says, “This sounds like a horrible idea,” then in a cheerful, excited voice adds, “I can’t wait!”

“Eff it, I’m doing a damn alicorn for now. I’ll drive it upstairs and turn it into a plant in my room, I guess. Maybe first thing some random Saturday morning I can go to Baltimare and do some pro bono healing at the docks and be back before my flight to the hospital gets here.”

He gets started reshaping the plant. Shape-wise there’s not a whole lot different. The barrel is about the same. The neck is longer, but narrower from the withers clear up to the snout. The main differences are the head, neck, and feet. Externally, at least. The skeleton is significantly different, but Cure hadn’t done anything but give the overall shape to it yet.

“Yeah, you don’t wanna be late. Autoimmune disorders this time, right?”

“Yep. It was going to be cardiology but with the stem… origin cell plants apparently they think they’ll be able to deal with heart issues fine once they can start using them. Go figure.”

“Yeah, who’da thunk it?”

“Right?” he agrees.

“Your sire totally ratted you out. You know that, right?”

“I’m still a little salty with him,” Cure says with a scowl.

“We’re very much aware. So was I, but he was right that she didn’t deserve to lose her job over a dumb foal’s argument.”

“That’s the only reason I signed the damn thing.”

“I know, honey. You made that abundantly clear when you got home.”

Sighing, Cure nods in acceptance. It had turned into quite the argument when he came home after his cosmetic customers. Neither mare flat out agreed with Deed, though Vines’ point that Mrs. Hire was just doing her job made it clear she was at least somewhat on his side. Title adamantly insisted Cure should have walked right out, though, to the point Cure had to put Savvy in a sound bubble so she wouldn’t hear her dam ripping her sire a new asshole.

Cure’s main issue was that signing the form was the same as admitting he was wrong, which he vehemently disagreed with, though he also acknowledged that it wasn’t worth costing a mare her job just to be obstinate over it. Finally the family had to basically agree to disagree on whether he should have signed the form right then and there.

At least if anypony gives him grief over it he can argue he completely disagreed with the narrative and only signed it because his sire made him. Given the fact he originally refused to the point of quitting and had witnesses to corroborate it, he wasn’t worried about it biting him in the rear later.

Dr. Care apparently was pissed beyond measure the following Monday, and brought the matter up during the weekly board meeting. Since the hospital is a government-run entity the minutes from most meetings are publicly available. Fortunately they routinely redact private information such as his and Hire’s names, but the general narrative would still be public record.

Though she couldn’t give Cure details, Gale explained that Hire may receive “counseling” about bringing up disciplinary matters up in an inappropriate setting. Cure found it amusing that Dr. Care’s presence ended up causing Mrs. Hire problems twice over. Once at the meeting and a second time for her presence during a discussion that should have only involved Cure, a parent, and Gale as his acting supervisor.

After everything was said and done, the agreement the family reached is that Cure would, in the future, have more autonomy to decide things like that without a parent completely overruling his opinion.

Though not happy with the circumstances of the agreement he felt that the deal made up for it. He still wouldn’t flat out ignore his parents, of course, but their agreement not to actively interfere with his professional decisions unless advice is solicited seems worth taking the loss on this one.

“I was very clear that the tax valuation was a request, not a demand. I had already given them everything anyway.” More quietly he insists, “She coulda said no.”

Rolling her eyes she says, “Cure, the way he tells it that doctor would have said yes to anything.”

“It was a reasonable request and she even said so herself,” he defends. “Besides, they’re only crediting me two hundred bits per unit per week. That’s less than I expected.”

“I’m just teasing you, honey,” she says. “I agree with you. It was a reasonable request. Remember, I’m the one that said you should be getting paid for your work anyhow?”

“Yeah.”

“So how many plants are they going to … plant, I guess? That sounded weird.”

“Eight Origins, two Bloods. Ten, total.”

“Only ten?” she asks.

“For now,” he explains. “They gotta test everything first. It all has to go through a medical review that will probably take months if not years. I think they’re willing to roll the dice if somepony is about to, otherwise, bleed out or whatever, so they’re crediting me for ten for now… at least, once they’re all matured in a few weeks.

“The originals and a half dozen seeds from each are already in Canterlot, but those don’t count since I don’t have an agreement with the RHA there. The board insists they’ll have it sorted out soon though. I think when those,” he waves towards his room, “are ready I’ll disable the cloning thing though.”

With a sigh he continues, “I don’t care for the fact that the those plants are out of my hooves, even if they’re paying for them, sort of. I get why they sent them to Canterlot, but I kinda wish they had told me first. I don’t like feeling like I have so little control over my creations.”

Title nods in agreement. “That’s not a bad idea. At least the contract they sent is fair. I mean, they didn’t fight at all over ownership rights, so they’re still your plants.”

“True. I guess that’s ultimately the important thing. I mean, technically, they would have to be my plants for me to be ‘renting’ them to them, so they probably figured I wouldn’t be as generous as charging zero rent if they tried something.”

“I wouldn’t worry about them, honey,” she says dismissively. “I’m certain they wouldn’t want to risk alienating somepony that can throw that together in a week. Did they give you any clue how many trees are they’re going to eventually plant?”

“Umm. Like, a few hundred as best I can figure. At least, of the Origin Cell ones once they go through all the testing. They don’t need as many Blood ones. They estimate thirty in each of the major metro’s like Cloudsdale, Chicoltgo, and Manehattan including the clinics in the surrounding suburbs.

“Fifteen to twenty in the large metro’s like Fillydelphia, Dodge City, and San Franciscolt. I dunno. They’re almost free, upkeep wise. Sugar isn’t exactly expensive and when they’re just sitting there they don’t even need that, just some light, water, and fresh soil every so often.”

“So let’s round it and say two hundred and fifty plants total between all of the clinics, hospitals, and so forth. That’s fifty grand per week, Cure.”

“Yup. Not bad for a few days’ work. No more taxes, I bet. Eventually. I’m done, by the way, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah, babe, the conversation was so enthralling I missed the gargantuan wooden, viney alicorn. That thing is fucking enormous, Cure,” she points out, looking over the massive plant.

“Some will get burned off as energy when I convert it to meat.”

“Two hooves? That’s gotta be about how much bigger it is than her. Not to mention it’s built like a freaking battleship.”

“It’s just a bit bulkier than she is. She probably had a shit diet when she was a filly. I can’t imagine food was readily abundant during the bloody Age of Chaos. God I bet her foalhood sucked balls.”

“I guess ya never think about that kinda stuff. Yeah, she probably didn’t have it super easy, huh?”

“How old is she, really? Are we talking fifteen hundred? Two thousand? More?”

“She’s never directly said. She’s definitely over fifteen hundred. Probably closer to two thousand,” Title answers. “It took hundreds of years to clean up the mess left behind, let alone however many centuries it took to unify everypony. Of course most of the history from that era is only known because she was there to bear witness and share it with scholars later.”

“Jesus… That’s insane. I wonder what we’ll be like in a hundred years. I can’t fathom two, three hundred let alone a thousand.”

“Dunno, honey. I’m sure you’ll have everything figured out well before a hundred at the rate you’re going.”

“Meh, that’s okay. The six will have easy mode to look forward to. Then again I think there were only like five or six legitimate threats throughout the whole series as far as I know. Most of it was just friendship lessons and crap. There’s only a few threats I’m even mildly concerned about at this point. We’ll see, I suppose.”

Title raises an eyebrow at that, prompting him to explain. “Nightmare Moon and Sombra. I’m a little leery of Tirek but only because power stealers are basically at the top of the ‘BS Power List.’ Not that I have a lot of room to talk there. I figure I can take him out from a safe distance if he does end up actually escaping.”

“Ah,” she says, nodding in understanding.

Cure looks over the alicorn. It’s still a plant, but he’s planning out exactly how this will work. The cranium, unlike a normal brain, will lack the typical parts responsible for anything related to memory, personality, decision making, or anything that would change it from a suit into something that could reasonably be called a living creature. That’s a moral quandary he plans on wholly sidestepping.

It still contains everything needed for the sensory inputs along with a thickened spinal cord to maximize data transmission speed. Cure is concerned that there may be a millisecond delay between the eyes and his brain if it’s located just behind where the heart will be instead of in the head. His body will occupy the space normally reserved for internal organs like the kidney, liver, and the GI tract.

The vast majority of the suit will be layer upon layer of dense, powerful muscle. Conscious of the possibility of having magic somehow be cut off like Chrysalis’ throne’s effect, the finalized version of the suit will have prepared, ready to non-magically deploy internal weapons.

He plans to add retractable claws, keratin razor wire, and modified, bolt action airguns in the legs, hooves, and shoulders, in addition to a second, normally retracted set of sharpened teeth, not to mention a variety of venom glands that function and are deployable with no magic at all.

Cure is already planning to include a layer of dust-infused armor with sockets for hardening, an anti-scanning permanent shield, and additional slots for teleport crystals in an emergency. He’d considered including Sharpening for the blades but found the spell from Dr. Care was redundant with the griffon aura. It is castable on his bone darts for extra armor penetration, though.

Deciding it's time to test out the initial, unarmed version, he envisions the heavily modified cardiovascular system, pulmonary system, glands, partial nervous system, skeleton, and a large number of ganglia to assist with proper movement.

He starts with the skeleton and works his way out, building a mostly-functional pseudo-alicorn body from the plant mass. Shaping it first was a good decision, he reflects, allowing him to focus more on the squishy parts without having to simultaneously think about how it will look.

The process is faster than it has any right to be, owing to the fact that, conceptually and metaphysically, he is only altering his own body. The hundreds and hundreds of scans he has available make it far easier than anticipated. Within only a few minutes the formerly plant-like figurine is now a flesh and blood, though technically brainless and deceased, unascended alicorn body.

“That was, I hope, the weirdest fucking thing I’ll ever witness in my entire life,” Title solemnly declares.

“No promises, ma. Ya know, when I’m not ‘wearing’ this I’m considering using this for my home defense plant that I mentioned the other day. I’ll probably use the same approach to making that because, frankly, why not? I’ll be able to plug into it and, for all intents and purposes, be all over the house. We’ll have to do a small trial to see if, when one of you plugs in, whether or not the plant stops being ‘me’ and becomes ‘you’ instead. I have my doubts, though.”

“Why? Because we’re not eating it?”

“Nah. If you go back to the ear and wing thing you said earlier, if I were to grow a wing, disconnect it, and put it on you, would that still be my wing?”

“I mean… in a way?”

“Yeah. I think that, over time maybe, it would become ‘your wing’ eventually, but at least for a little while I think that, conceptually, it’s still my wing, even if I change it to match your colors. Heck, even if I change the cells to yours, biologically, which I would have to to prevent rejection, I bet it’s still considered ‘me’ until maybe your blood is flowing through it for a while. I dunno,” he finishes with a shrug.

“Well maybe we should try with something small so we know for sure,” she suggests.

“Good call, ma. I can put a small patch of skin in your foreleg pit and we’ll test it at one day, five days, ten days, etcetera until it stops being ‘me’. Does that sound okay? You won’t even know it’s there.”

“Yeah, sure. Now you got me wondering. Go ahead,” she says, holding out a foreleg.

Cure takes a small patch of skin and, essentially, grafts it onto the inside of his mom’s leg, restoring the fur over top of it afterwards. “I’ll check it in an hour, then in the morning, then we’ll just wait one more day each time until it’s ‘you’ instead of ‘me’ okay?”

“Sounds good, honey. Now… are you gonna put your suit on?”

“Yeah, sure,” he eagerly nods. The body is still laying on its barrel, head down between its forelegs, wings laying limp on its sides. Cure smirks as he approaches the rear and begins gently rubbing on the dock, quickly changing his talons into hands. “Ya gotta get the girl in the right mood, ma.”

“Cure… no.”

“What? You can’t just slam all this home,” he says, motioning to himself. “You gotta ease it in at first. Maybe light some candles or something. Shame y’all don’t have smooth jazz to play.”

“Just put the damn thing on.”

“Fiiine.” He absorbs his wings, tail, and horn back into his body, then rolls the suit onto its left side so the back is to his mom and sister. Like unzipping a onesie, he opens the barrel from the stomach, then squats down and pushes his way in, head first, rolling onto his shoulder and pulling his hind feet in. After only a few seconds the suit starts moving, opening its eyes and rolling to its barrel.

Title regrets immensely that she did not cast a Sound Bubble before he did so. The loud, almost comically over the top “schlorp” noise was very upsetting. Thankfully Savvy is out cold, still leaning against her tummy.

In a far deeper voice it quietly says, “So far so good, ma. Gimme a second and I should have everything hooked in.”

“Hooked in?”

“Yeah… my actual body has to be able to get air and since this,” it taps its chest with a forehoof, “doesn’t actually have a kidney, liver, or any part of the digestive tract my body is providing all that. There’s a lot of hooking in that needs to happen. The esophagus and trachea,” he says, trailing a hoof from his chin to his chest, “are directly down my throat, though the latter is split between the suit’s lungs and my own.

“I did you the favor of not seeing me completely coatless, but I retracted all of that as I climbed in, too. The fur would get in the way of all the cardiovascular and nervous system hookups anyhow.”

“So you’re naked inside another pony, basically?” Title asks with a smirk.

Sighing, Cure shakes his enormous head. “We already did those jokes, ma. Okay, I think I’m ready to try standing, or at least sitting up.”

Slowly, Cure gets his forehooves under him and carefully pushes himself up, sitting on his haunches instead. He repeats the process with his hind legs, rising to all four, then slowly extends one gigantic wing, then the other, then gingerly moves his neck around before looking over his withers and giving his tail a swish.

“How’s it goin, honey?”

“Really, not bad,” he says, slowly walking in a small circle. “I’ll have to do some physical therapy, basically, to make sure I can move right, but overall it’s not that different from moving around as a small colt.”

“Your cutie mark came through. Or did you do that yourself?”

“Really?” he asks, turning to look. Sure enough the rod and snake are right there on his flanks. “Nope. I can’t say I’m all that surprised though. Like I said, this is me, for all intents and purposes. I guess that’s just verification, though, which isn’t bad to have. Look, it’s scaled bigger too.”

“I noticed.”

“Stop starin at my flanks, ma, yer makin it weird.”

“Oh shut up. It shrank a bit when you changed it from a plant, but you’re fucking huge. You realize that right?”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I didn’t go with the princess sized horn. I would have probably already jammed it through the ceiling once or twice.” Cure retracts the horn so he doesn’t accidentally do exactly that. He can easily touch the ceiling with his snout alone.

“You’re bigger than she was, I think. Is. You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I think I’m about a hoof taller, and definitely a hoof or two wider. Dunno, didn’t scan her. I also only saw her for about a minute at full size, but I did notice she was on the leaner side of what a big earth pony should be.”

“Your muscles are much larger too.”

“Yeah, I know y’all said she was always an alicorn, but I still suspect she was either a unicorn or, because she didn’t get a lot of opportunities to work out, she ended up slimmer. Or, I guess, maybe it’s just because she’s a mare. This is much more along the lines of what I would expect an earth pony stallion to look like at this size. Based on what I saw of that dude at the rodeo, at least.”

“True. I’ve only seen a few of them and you’re about their same size. You may be a smidge taller, but it’s hard to say. You’re at the upper end of muscular for them, though. They’re already so strong they don’t get a lot of opportunities to really push themselves, I bet.”

“Is this too much?”

“Nah, it’s a good look. I mean, it would be if I was like six hooves taller, I guess. It’s a little intimidating, but that’s just because you’re so much larger.”

“Hey ya know what… I hadn’t even considered something.” Cure extends his horn out and casts the Reduce spell, and in a flash, shrinks down to the same size as his sire before he started helping the stallion grow. “How’s that look… wait, what the hell?” he finishes in a mumble.

“Looks good. What’s wrong?”

“Okay, magic is bullshit. How’s this even work?”

“What?”

“I didn’t think about it when she used the spell, but how the hay am I breathing? And she ate while shrank… did that food just suddenly grow with her when she unshrank? I wonder if that’s what the maintenance part of the spell is doing…” he says, trailing off in thought.

“She went back to normal size only a little after eating, honey. I would assume it remained the same size.”

“Frick that, I’m testing this,” he says, carefully walking to the kitchen. Title hears the fridge open and close, then Cure walks out with a carrot floating in front of him, already half eaten. “As far as I understand it, you should not, under any circumstances, be able to ‘Reduce’ an oxygen molecule, but if it’s following the same rules as the carrot then that’s exactly what’s happening.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You can power the spell two ways. One is constant magic use; a small trickle. The other is to dump a bunch in, which will ‘tie off’ the spell. That’s useful for when you’re casting it on somepony else and want it to last a while. I’m obviously doing the former since my magic pool sucks.”

“Okay. And?”

“And some part of that magic is going towards shrinking whatever is ingested.”

“That’s interesting. What happens if you cast it on somepony and they eat too much for the spell to convert everything?”

He answers with a shrug. “Dunno, I guess they unshrink and whatever they were eating stays normal size?”

“That could be catastrophic if somepony runs out of magic while enlarged instead of shrunk.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely. If somepony drank a bunch of water while enlarged and then shrank back they could probably pop internal organs like a balloon.” Let’s not even mention a shrunken bullet expanding a few seconds after being fired...

“Yeah, don’t do that. Also, shouldn’t you be taller? I mean… when she used the spell she was still taller than your sire.”

“It’s variable. I used a half, she a third reduction, roughly. It’s volume based, or mass based. Not sure,” he says with a shrug.

“Ego?”

“Dunno. Probably not. It would probably weird ponies out more if she was their size rather than being bigger.”

“Eh, I suppose.”

“This kinda solves the whole ‘everypony freaking out over an alicorn’ problem though.”

“How long does that spell last if you ‘tie it off?’”

“Also variable. If I did a scroll or the mid-high gem I could have it last a few hours. It would use a lot of ink, though. I think my best bet would be to put it in the mid-high then replace the enchantment with teleport and charge it slowly over time. I wouldn’t run the risk of getting distracted and having it slip, or have to pay attention while using my talent. My magic regeneration is about six times as fast now as it was before.”

“So you go from empty to full in four or five minutes?”

“Yep, thereabouts. It would still take me about forty five minutes to fully recharge the mid-high, but I could do that while flying. The important part is that, while I do look like a pegacorn, the shrink spell took care of the bulkiness and nopony is going to instantly think I’m an alicorn.”

“Nah, probably not. It was the height that was the main issue. You could probably just walk around like this, though you’ll wanna do something about your cutie mark.”

“Right,” he agrees. He’d made the coat brown, so that didn’t need to change. He uses his normal trick to cover the cutie mark. Instead of the rod and snake he goes with another mark, something he’d seen at several Celtic festivals over the years; an intricate tree, surrounded in a circle of vines.

Cure looks thoughtful for a moment. “Huh, I just realized something.” At his mom’s curious look he explains, “Well, I would need even more mass, but if I used the Reduce spell I could actually do a human, or other bipedal, shaped body. It would have to be pretty large for me to fit in the abdomen, but if it’s like… ten, twelve feet, err, three or four meters tall before I shrink it by half, that would work.”

“Can a unicorn tell you’re using the shrink spell?”

“Not passively, but if they scanned me, yes. Or if they see me cast it, of course. Once it’s cast it would be like how we use magic; all at and below the skin. There’s nothing happening outside the body.”

“Well, food for thought. Just keep in mind that if the princess hears about a human walking around that’s going to draw some attention, and if she happened to come out to investigate and finds you? You’re going to have some serious explaining to do.”

“Oof, yeah. That would be awkward. Nah, I think I’ll go with the pegacorn thing.”

“That’s probably best, honey. The cutie mark is interesting. Neat design,” she comments.

“I always thought so,” he agrees. “There’s just one more thing to do and I think I’m done for the night,” he says.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” he nods, then walks over right next to Title on the opposite side from his sister and, while lightening himself enough to not crush her, lays across her withers, a foreleg on each side of her neck. The wings soon follow and, despite herself, Title lets out a contented sigh while wrapped in a warm, feathery hug. “Love you, ma,” he says, nuzzling the side of her neck and giving her cheek a kiss. “I’m sorry for growlin at ya.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about that,” she warmly replies, leaning up to return the affection. “I love you too.”

The three sit, Cure snuggled on top of his mom, covering the other two with his large wings. “So… bedtime?” he asks.

With a mischievous smile she shakes her head no. “Oh no. Not for a few minutes. We need to make some plans for the morning, first.”

Tuesday, February 17th, 909 AB (the next morning)

Quiet talking roused Vines from her sleep. She still felt a little out of it, but that’s just what happens when somepony goes to bed too early. Too much sleep is just as bad as too little, she supposes. She carefully climbs out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom, careful not to wake her husband.

Title isn’t in the room and Savvy’s crib is empty, so she must already be downstairs talking to Cure. Either that or Lemon and Amethyst have come by, but she doesn’t smell or hear anypony, and the girls usually aren’t the best at staying quiet first thing in the morning.

After taking care of the immediate issues she makes her way towards the stairs. Reaching the bottom, she starts turning to the kitchen to get breakfast started, then comes to a complete stop. Slowly turning back towards the living room she blinks a few times to make sure she’s not hallucinating.

“Hey, dam. Good morning,” the enormous alicorn stallion calls, giving her a sheepish smile and a cheeky wave.

“Cure?” she slowly asks, approaching cautiously.

“Yeah, so… good news and bad,” he starts. “Umm, good news first? We’re both okay. Bad news? You really gotta be careful with time spells.”

“Time spells?” she asks. From the other side of, presumably, her son, her wife stands up. What Vines sees freezes her blood in her veins. Instead of the radiant, youthful pink beauty, before her stands a mare that has to be at least sixty years old. Gray fur shows through in streaks all throughout her coat, mane, and tail.

“Sweet Celestia, Vines, babe, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” she says in an aged voice. “You’re not gonna believe what your son did!”

Gravity seemed to go sideways on the green mare, and the last thing she recalls is the face of her worried son as everything fades to black.

“Dam? You okay? Jeez, can’t pull a friggin prank in this house without somepony losin their shit.”

“Good catch, Cure. Umm… the twins are alright, right?”

“Yeah, first thing I checked, ma.”

“Got a Sound Bubble up?”

“Yeah, I don’t want her screamin and waking dad up. Not until we’re ready,” he adds mischievously.

Cure leans over and nuzzles his dam, gently poking at her cheek with his snout. “Daaaam? Wakey wakey. We’re just messing with you, Mrs. Spreading Vines. It’s time to wake uuuuup,” he sings.

“Hrm?”

“Oh. Whew. Thank Harmony. You okay there, dam?”

“CURE!” she hollers, launching herself at him and wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “What happened?!” she cries, literally, with tears streaming down her face.

“Dam, settle down, nothing happened! It’s a suit! I’m inside of this suit!” he assures her, bodily lifting her and setting her on a mat. “Look, I made like… basically, a fully enclosed suit, I’m actually right here curled up puppeting the thing,” he says, poking at the side of the barrel. “I’m inside all of this,” he reiterates, waving at the whole thing. “And no, nothing weird happened. I’m still just me in here.”

“Title!” she shouts, snapping her focus to her wife.

“I just gave her some gray patches and we changed her voice a bit.”

“Yeah, babe, I’m right here. I’m fine, settle down.”

“You… I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU TWO! I thought you were OLD! How is all THIS even possible?” she yells, poking a hoof against Cure’s huge chest.

“Eh, long story. We probably don’t have much time before dad comes down, though, and we wanted to get him too. Besides, you’ve seen me deage plenty of ponies by now… didn’t you stop and think ‘Why does Title have gray hair?’ at some point?”

“I… was caught off guard,” she defensively insists. “Don’t you try to blame me!” she shouts, jabbing him again.

“Alright, long story super short, if I eat something it becomes part of ‘me’ after I digest it, so I ate a buncha wood like a big damn termite, then used all that to make this suit. Since it’s all me it takes almost no magic to change it, and since it’s jam-packed full of hybrid cells my magic regeneration is about six times what it normally is.”

“Oh. Well… on one hoof that is amazing, sweetie. On the other, you are grounded!”

“Grounded from what? School?”

“No, from hanging out with your friends!”

“Really?”

Sighing, Vines shakes her head no. “I can’t believe you. You too!” she shouts, pointing an accusing hoof at Title. “You were in on it!”

“Eh, what’s the harm? You’re fine, the twins are fine, we’re all fine. Aren’t we Savvy, sweetheart?” she asks her daughter who briefly looks up from the ring she’s chewing on. “She seems fine,” she says, turning back to Vines with a smirk. “If we hurry and set up we can get Deed too!”

Vines chews her lip for a moment in consideration, looking between the two eager faces. “What are you planning?”

“Right here.” a slightly familiar sounding voice says. Deed isn’t exactly sure, but he thinks that’s the princess. Either that or Cure’s doing another impression of her. Either way he’s hungry and it sounds like it’s coming from the kitchen. Rushing back to the bathroom he double checks his mane and face, making sure he’s got all the eye boogers washed away, along with any residual crust they left behind.

He hears her again. “And just sign right here. Initial and date there.”

Confident he looks good enough, just in case, he quietly makes his way out of the bathroom and down the stairs.

“Perfect!” he hears the voice say. “Now, I am worried about being too rough, you’re sure he’ll be fine?” Deed freezes in his tracks at that. The princess being too rough does not sound like something anypony would want.

“Oh yeah, don’t worry about that,” Title assures her. “Cure toughened up his bones plenty. You can really grind away at him and he’ll be okay, no problem. Be as rough as you wanna.”

“Excellent! Normally I have to be so gentle, you see? I’ll never forget the first time I really cut loose. There was hardly anything left of the poor dear! It was so traumatic I didn’t look for a mate for nearly a century!”

Deed’s eyebrows shoot into his mane. He glances over his withers and wonders if he can make it back up the stairs quietly enough that they won’t hear.

“Oh you poor dear!” Vines cries. “It must have been really difficult for you.”

Difficult for her? he thinks. What about the stallion?!

“Oh yes, absolutely! And don’t even get me started on the whole size issue. Do you have any idea how annoying it is having to shrink yourself every time you’re in the mood just so you can even feel it?”

He slowly looks down at his stallion. It may be plenty for his ladies, but she’s a whole ‘nother story!

“Can’t say that I do, honestly,” Title sympathizes. “We’ll talk to Cure before we send Deed your way, though. He may have a hard time walkin right, but I can promise you he’ll otherwise be up to the challenge.”

“Wonderful! It’ll be the first time in so, so very long I can finally enjoy an estrus season. I’ll have to thank Cure again for his help.”

Yeah, thanks champ.

“Sure… babe?” she yells out. “I thought I heard him come down the stairs.”

“I think I did too,” Vines confirms. “Deed, sweetie? Come into the kitchen. We have a special guest here!”

Wincing, Deed slowly makes his way to the kitchen entrance and pokes his head around the corner. Sure enough, the princess is there in her full-sized glory, horn towering over his wives even though she’s laying on her barrel by the table on the side closest to him. Strangely, she’s not wearing either her crown or her peytral and her mane looks much more like a normal one, though the long, pink color is pretty.

“Well hello, Mister Saviour,” she salaciously greets him. “I have been sooo looking forward to seeing you again.”

“Uhh… greetings, your highness!” he calls, stepping fully into the kitchen and dropping into a bow.

“Oh, Mr. Deed. You don’t need to bow before me. In fact,” she says with a smirk, “If anything, I’ll be the one bowing before you.”

Slowly standing back up, he warily looks to his wives, both of whom are eagerly grinning. Savvy is sitting on a booster chair hugging on a plushie, but Cure isn’t in sight.

“We just finished the studding paperwork, honey,” Title happily explains. “Guess what… err… who you’ll be doing this season!”

“What?”

“That’s right, Mister Deed. Me and you,” she says, waving a hoof between them. “We’re gonna make sooo many babies!” she shouts, reaching back with a foreleg and rubbing at her tummy. “In fact… I can already feel my womb quivering in anticipation!” she yells, turning on her side and lifting a hind leg.

Sure enough, right there where her womb is, something moves under her skin, undulating and writhing under the surface as she stares at him hungrily. “Soooo many babies!” she croons in a bizarre, resonant voice while licking her chops with a too-long tongue.

Deed feels his heart almost leap right out of his throat. Prepared to run for his life, it suddenly clicks, again, that his son isn’t here. With an angry scowl, the stallion growls out, “COLT! Ya damn near gave me a heart attack!”

Vines and Title let out disappointed Aww’s and Cure, pouting, stops the gut-churning display and lays back on his barrel. “Too much?” he asks.

Deed approaches, looking him over while nodding. “Definitely. How are ya so big? Some kinda spell?”

Vines sighs and goes back to getting breakfast ready as Title moves the blank papers out of the way, grouching the whole time.

For the third time in a little over twelve hours, Cure begins his explanation, changing to his normal colors at the same time.

“Well, pa, it occurred to me that I never actually sat down and figured out when food stops being food and becomes ‘me’ for the purposes of my magic, so…”

Author's Note

Okay, so this is the first really, REALLY 'out there' thing that Cure has done, in my opinion. This right here is the kind of thing that could elevate him to an existential threat to the planet, assuming that there is, in fact, not an upper limit to it. Of course, it would take someone realizing that to raise the issue and, in this setting, I don't see that happening. After all, parasprites are a thing and, as far as I can tell, are little better than a grey goo scenario that's laughed off and ignored.

Regardless, he is aware of this potential and will likely hold the upscaled version as a nuclear option. Or for helpful projects where he plans on disconnecting once it's finished, maybe? Dunno. There's a lot of really useful things that could be done here.

With Ed's memories one of Cure's unstated biggest fears is what would happen if he made a second brain and the whole 'evil twin' scenario played out. Would the twin inherit the special talent? Identical twins can, canonically (the spa twins have identical marks), have the same talent, so presumably spawned duplicates can as well. It's the same with the Mirror Pool. He would avoid that at all costs. Of course, there's no reason to assume the twin would be evil.

A twin shouldn't be evil at all, but you still get a Replicator problem he's unwilling to test. There's not an ethical way to undo that action. The most likely outcome would be like something in Pokémon where all of the centers have the same nurse. Every clinic and hospital would have their own 'Dr. Cure' and travelers would be baffled when they walk in and say "Hey didn't I see you in Manehattan?" and he would do the whole "Nah, that's my brother. We have a big family!" routine.

As a purely biological creature, I can't come up with a logical reason why there would be an upper limit other than issues with organism sizes and neurological signal speed / loss things that could be addressed, possibly, in a few ways. That, of course, ignores things like the Ursa Major, which is an absolutely gargantuan. I cited the Minor early on in the story when I was talking about the impact of OP characters. In that specific instance I was pointing out how OP even early Twilight was. Here's a discussion about Ursa Major size.

I'm pretty sure Dragon Lord Torch is larger, but I don't feel like really looking into it. So obviously magical creatures have some way of dealing with the whole size issue that, if I recall correctly, larger dinosaurs had (T-Rex was NOT fast), not to mention the whole square cube thing which, apparently, elephants already break.

I dunno. Who knows? Maybe in the future he'll build a Megazord, Voltron thing and hop in it to fight the VotW.

... damn, that could be fun. Maybe he'll even have a chimp sidekick!