II

I have something I need to get out of the way. It’s a difficult subject to broach, but it’s essentially the distinguishing factor of my experiences in Equestria, aside from the whole magical talking horses part.

The one thing that was a bit weird about being suddenly removed from Earth was that I didn’t miss anyone. My friends and family – well, the friends I covered before, and my family… it’s a bit complicated. I was never really close with them, I guess. I got the feeling growing up that… I dunno. Sort of that my whole family had been picked at random from names in a phone-book and forced to co-exist until one circumstance or another broke us apart. For me, it was moving to the city, but that had been enough. I wrote my parents once a year at Christmas, and that was all I needed.

So, I didn’t miss anyone, or human interaction in general.

But, something very weird happened in Equestria.

When I’d been on Earth, the whole ‘lack of companionship’ thing was just the way things had been. I didn’t spend much time with other people, and I didn’t really see the need to. People at work would urge me to go out, hit the bar, shoot pool with them – or even more than that, to loosen up and try to pick up some girls.

Or guys, they’d say after a moment of my stone-faced silence.

It definitely got people asking if I was gay for a while. And then celibate.

When I was on Earth, I had no interest in companionship, romantic or otherwise.

That didn’t change entirely when I woke up in Equestria. But, I did notice one distinct difference that hit me about a week after my arrival.

Ever since I woke up here, I’ve been hornier than I have ever been in my life.

It’s not like sex was bad. It wasn’t on my mind, really. I’ve had it before, with a couple of girls while I was in high-school, and none of the encounters made it seem like this spectacular event or goal to be sought-after. You put your dick in something for a while, moved it around, and if you did it right, both parties involved got a little something out of the whole deal. I’m being a bit reductive about the complexities, but the general formula is still the same. Whenever I’d had the urge to get off, it’d had always been easier to just do it myself – meeting someone for the sole purpose of rubbing my dick on or in them for a while seemed a bit stupid if I didn’t need the whole ‘emotional’ part of things.

I don’t know that I need that bit any more now… but pretty much all the time, I wish I had something to stick my dick into.

Maybe it’s the perception of scarcity. When you’re in a regular human society, populated by humans, surrounded by humans, every part through-and-through built for people to interact and converge and associate and relate and mate and procreate, you don’t always take into consideration how existent it all is. And when you lose that… it’s a really strange feeling. I mean, the option was always there before, if I had wanted it. Now it was gone completely, and I wanted it more than ever.

So, I’m not sure if that led to me being stir-crazy, or if this whole thing is just a more evident projection of some deep-seated issues that came to light only as a result of circumstance.

Ponies are as sexy as fuck.

I mean that in complete honesty, with all sincerity. And again, I don’t mean the normal ones that are this and this tall and smell like poop and old hay and have flies buzzing around them and kick you if you get on them the wrong way. The ones in Equestria; the ones with magic and flying and fancy colours and soft-squishy bodies and shapely curved hindquarters and slim pose-able limbs and fucking exposed genitalia every minute of the day.

Oh yeah, that’s the other thing. None of them seem to notice it, but it’s a thing. Every. Fucking. Second. There is a pony walking nearby, totally naked, as they tend to be (with some exceptions). And her fucking vagina is right there. Just… there. On display. For everyone to look at. Everypony. They’re all like this.

I did a double take the first time I saw one. Was that what I thought it was? It looked almost exactly like the human thing only… smaller. Softer. And a bit of a weirder colour.

The second time I saw one, my jeans got awfully tight.

Are you kidding? I’d thought to myself.

I stared for a little while at the next one.

No one seems to notice. To them, it’s just…. ‘normal’. I don’t know if that means they all acknowledge it but just ignore it, or if it’s hard-coded into their DNA not to notice the sea of winking slits in every part of town.

Another thing about ponies ; there are so many girls. The ratio of mares to stallions is like… twenty to one. Fifty to one, maybe. It’s insane. And that means all those un-dicked ponies with their twats hanging out parade through town every minute of every day for anyone to look at.

No one else does. I do.

I jerked off to the thought of Twilight’s vag one night in my little makeshift cot. I felt pretty dirty afterwards.

Doesn’t mean I stopped though.

I wasn’t about to tell anyone. I mean… fuck. What the fuck was I supposed to say? The first human in Equestria in God only knows how long – millennia? – and I’d go to Twilight Sparkle and say ‘Hey Twilight, sorry to be a bother, but every pony I see in public showing off what looks like the most tight, fuckable pussy I’ve ever seen in my life is making me kind of anxious on a regular basis. Can we work out some kind of deal where I get a pony to rail every other day to keep myself from going crazy? Thanks.’

I keep it to myself. And I try not to look.

It’s pretty hard.

But, I do alright.

There is one pony I’ve thought about telling: Cheerilee. I feel like if anyone would listen to what I had to say about wanting to shove my dick in every pony-pussy that walked by, it’d be her. She has this ‘motherly’ aspect to her whole personality, but it’s not even remotely worrisome in the capacity that a regular mother might be. She’s just a well-read, precocious, caring individual. She’s a school-teacher, actually. And at the same time, I think if I told her that, hey look, the display of marevag every day is getting me kind of hot-and-bothered, do you have any advice, she would have something to offer. Heck, she might even– gah. I probably shouldn’t think about that.

Even so… there’s one really big problem with telling Cheerilee.

I showed up at her school one day. I think it’s the only one in Ponyville, or at least the only one I’m aware of. Either they’re hiding the other teachers and students, or the whole system is worked out very deliberately.

I was going to walk her home so we could have coffee and talk. Not about anything in particular, really. She likes to know about what goes on in my  life, being so out-of-place, and I like to ask her questions about Equestria, and how she deals with being  that ‘one’ pony who’s willing to talk to me on a regular basis. We try to talk about literature when we can, but it’s difficult when our two cultural libraries are completely divorced from each other. I’ve tried to explain a couple books to her, but half-way through my synopsis of Catch-22 I realized that translating a text through word-of-mouth was probably a fool’s errand in discussion. I’ve tried to pick up some pony literature on her recommendation, but it’s a tad difficult digest for relational issues; that said, it’s kind of interesting to see a whole body of cultural creativity through a viewpoint I’ll never experience.

So, right. I went to meet her after she was done teaching for the day.

That’s when I realized I couldn’t talk to her about this.

I’d seen a couple of the kids – fillies, colts, whatever you want to call them – around Ponyville before, but I never really paid them much attention. I mean, there were usually more pressing things on my mind. Even if I’m not trying to distract myself from the gaggle of bouncing perfect-fuck-height horse-pussy traipsing around at any given moment, I’ve still got plenty on my mind, the least of which is what stupid kid ponies running around underfoot have to contribute to my day. Most of them look at me like a  full-grown dragon walking through town, so even if I wanted to I couldn’t really just walk up and say ‘hello’ – not without getting some disapproving glares from the parents, anyway.

So this was my first time with nothing else to occupy my attention. Would you mind waiting just a bit, Cheerilee had asked. I have some things to take care of before I take them home for grading.

Sure, I’d said. Waiting outside seemed like as good an idea as any.

The group that caught my eye was a trio of three little ponies bouncing around each other like they’d been force-fed straight caffeinated sugar. Three of them: an orange one with purple hair, a white one with a mane like bobbed cotton-candy in purple and pink, and a yellow one with a big red bow on her head.

I’d caught a view of her from behind as she spoke up.

“What’re yew guys doin’ after school?” she’d said.

I’ve always had a thing for accents, even if it didn’t mean I wanted to go looking for foreigners to fuck. Or southerners, in this case.

She had a voice like an adorable little southern-belle. The kind of voice that, if I’d heard it in a movie or in real-life from a human little girl, probably would have gotten me to clutch my hand to my chest in a mock-heart-attack, with the over-exaggerated ‘hnngh!’ and everything.

She was facing away from me when she spoke, and her bow bobbed a little as she bounced up and down.

If I’d thought normal mares look fuckable…

I don’t know what it is. To this point I cannot explain it. I feel like I need to emphasize this; never have in my life have I wanted to fuck a kid. I have never looked at child-pornography, I have never fantasized about touching a child in any way other than was necessary in my job to get them into a living situation improved for their own benefit. I have never abused my trust with a child, I have never even had the slightest inkling of an urge to do anything inappropriate with a human kid ever in my life.

But the second I saw that cute little yellow slit almost winking at me from the back-end of that sweet southern voiced little pony, I wanted to rail her more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I think when I got a glimpse I actually spit, which was awkward because I wasn’t drinking anything at the time. It hadn’t gotten me any more attention than just being a human in a playground of school-age-ponies in the first place, but it made me feel like the most conspicuous trench-coat child molester ever.

How could I even have that thought? It popped into my brain like a bullet put there by force with no room for reconciliation.

Fuck that horse, it said. Grab that darling southern-filly and spread her open on your dick.

At that point I was fairly certain I might have been going crazy.

I’ve done a little self-analysis from that point on.

Luckily, at that point Cheerilee walked up behind me and announced she was all ready to go, and I’d jumped maybe a little too emphatically at the chance to get away from my sudden onset of pedofoalia. I’d walked Cheerilee home faster than I’d run some marathons in the past, maybe thinking that if I ran fast enough my perversion couldn’t catch up to me.

That night, I fell asleep with my hand on my dick after rubbing it raw for two hours and coating myself in sticky-stuff from the image of that yellow little-girl snatch burned into my brain.

I’ve never wanted to fuck a horse either, I should clarify.

This is just… a weird exception.

That’s how we get to where things got really strange.

I tried for a week or two to iron out what was going on inside my own head. Am I crazy? I thought to myself, mostly while I was doing things as mundane as possible. I tried to reason out whether or not I’d just gone completely loco from the trauma of switching worlds, all while ironing Twilight’s bed sheets or helping Spike with dinner by chopping parsley. Am I completely insane? I couldn’t think of any other reason for thinking… yeah.

I don’t think the worry went completely away after a few weeks, but it definitely faded to the back of my mind; enough that I didn’t remember it at the time when things changed again.

I was waiting for Cheerilee again that day. I mean, really, what else was there to do? Not everyone in town needed help putting up their store-sign, and outside from random handiwork, I still hadn’t found anything to make myself useful instead of just an eyesore for passerby.

I was leaning up against the school-house when I heard the shout. It sounded unmistakably awful – the same kind a kid would give on Earth if something in the middle of playtime went very quickly from ‘fun with your friends’ to ‘oh god someone’s hurt what do we do please some adult come help.’ There’s a lot you can say with just a shout.

The crash that went along with it was enough of an indication that something had gone majorly awry, in any case.

A quick scan of the playground didn’t turn up anything, but when my eyes focused during the second sweep they caught the crowd of little ponies gathered at the far end of the grass, where the ‘play-structure’ kind of stuff was set up.

Was set up.

The whole… I don’t know what you’d call it. Big wooden thing that kids run in and out of like idiots? We had them everywhere when I was a kid before I moved to New York, at which point they were replaced by angry cabbies and rusted fire-hydrants. Every other one had that spinning game of X’s and O’s on one side? Anyway. The thing had collapsed, at least partially. One side of it was tilted like the legs had gone missing, and the wooden planks, boards, poles, whatever they were, had given out and were piled in a heap on the same side.

So, I did the sensible thing and ran to the horde of awe-struck kids, hoping that the shout I heard was just a startled pony instead of the last scream of life from a little horse crushed to death by an avalanche of logs.

The trio of three little girls was there. They looked upset, but more angry than anything else, which I remember thinking was weird. The yellow one was yelling at another pony beside her; a pink girl with, what I almost gagged at noticing, was a garish tiara studded in sparkly stones. Diamonds, probably.

“Diamond Tiara, how could you do that! Featherweight’s under there!”

That confirmed the suspicion about the diamonds, anyway. These ponies all had such weird names.

“I didn’t do anything! I mean, I just kicked it a little bit… how was I supposed to know the whole thing was built by shoddy construction-ponies? Proper things shouldn’t fall apart like that with a little kick.”

“Yeah, Applebloom. You’re the one from a family with literacy issues – surely one of your relatives must be a carpenter. Can’t you fix this?”

The second voice that piped up belonged to a pony beside the one I noted mentally was called Diamond Tiara – this one had a shiny grey coat and white hair. She had an awful beaded necklace to match her friend’s tiara, and the same look of offended sanctimonious entitlement as well. I made a further mental note at that point that evidence suggested both of these girls were likely substantial cunts.

Applebloom – I had a name for her too, the pony whose underage body had haunted me into questioning my sanity - Applebloom glowered, fuming like a smokestack. She looked like she was ready to pounce, bending her legs like a jungle-cat, but another shout from underneath the logs interrupted her.

“Help!”

It was a voice I didn’t recognize. It sounded as high-pitched as I might expect from a kid, but even a little more indistinguishable than that because of the timbre. I couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl, or, if from the tone, the voice’s owner was just frightened, or hurt.

“Featherweight! Hang on! We’re gonna get you outta there.” Applebloom and her two friends started scrambling around the broken structure looking for a way to get inside, none of them with any particular success. All the while, Diamond Tiara and her snooty silver friend stared on, neither of them lifting a hoof to help.

At that point some of the ponies had noticed I was standing nearby, and turned from panicked silence to conspiratorial whispers.

Diamond Tiara turned her head when she saw my shadow on the ground. I didn’t smile, but I did feel a little giddy when her look of smarmy disinterest disappeared as her eyes went wide with surprise.

“Is everyone okay? I heard a shout just a minute ago.”

“Help!” the cry came again, more insistent out of either urgency or the hope that, if someone was there asking, there might now be a better chance of rescue. As if shouting louder would make the structure rebuild itself. Well okay. I’ll get right on that, I’m sure it was thinking. I mean, if logs could think. Anyway.

Diamond Tiara was no help. She stammered at me, her mouth moving without words coming out. I think she might have been afraid of me. It’s not like I was news by that point; I kind of assumed everyone in town would have known I was around. Maybe Diamond Tiara wasn’t the type to pay attention to current events.

Applebloom had enough presence of mind to get me up to speed though.

“Featherweight’s trapped in there! Someone”– Applebloom glared at Diamond Tiara quite pointedly–“kicked the side of the play-structure and this whole side came down, and now we can’t get any of it out of the way to get Featherweight out!”

I nodded to show I understood and kneeled down next to the pile of logs.

“Featherweight,” I asked, as though I had any idea what I was doing “are you okay in there?” Oddly enough, I wasn’t even remotely afraid at that moment. The whole thing just felt… natural. Crisis occurs, intervention ensues. I was calm and collected.

“There’s something on my leg, I can’t move it!” The voice that came out still sounded genderless, but I was leaning further towards ‘effeminate boy’ than girl. The kid was obviously distressed, but he didn’t sound too shaken up, which likely meant he wasn’t hurting too bad. Either way, if he was well and properly stuck that meant it was probably better not to take any chances on getting him out as soon as possible.

The orange and white fillies were jumping up and down on the nearest set of protruding logs in an attempt to dislodge them, but weren’t having the slightest bit of luck. Their eyes went wide when I walked up, and I waved them aside without speaking. They moved without hesitation.

Surely these can’t be that heavy, I thought to myself as I crouched down and took one of the ends into my hands.

As it turns out I was wrong; they were quite heavy. But, what’s impossibly heavy for ponies is only moderately heavy for humans. I had a feeling that I’d met some ponies that could put my lift strength to shame, but it was enough for this situation.

I hoisted off the logs one at a time. Some of them were jammed in and needed to be pulled out to make room for the rest to slide, which took more effort than just lifting them out. I managed surprisingly well, considering the potential urgency of the circumstance. I think it only took me a few minutes to clear enough space to see under the half-fallen floor.

And, there was indeed a small little colt waiting for me there, his eyes wide but mostly tearless, and one of his hind-legs stuck under a particularly solid looking log.

So, I didn’t want to break anything.

“Can you move alright?” I asked as I crouched even lower and made my way under the makeshift tunnel of collapsed logs. He nodded, and I took a look at his leg underneath the log. I know fuck-all about equine anatomy, but it didn’t look broken. I mean, in as much as I’m used to legs bending a certain way, his didn’t seem to go in any other direction… and the log looked heavy, but not that heavy.

You could say it was a calculated risk, but at that point, I wasn’t really calculating anything.

“I’m gonna try to lift that log up. If you can, I want you to wiggle out so we can get you out of here, okay?”

He nodded again. He might have been afraid of me too, but at that point, I didn’t really care.

That log was a motherfucker to get out of the way.

I did manage to get it up though, with more than enough time for Featherweight to crawl forward a bit and let me set the thing down. There was a lot of grunting and sweating involved.

When I put it down, I didn’t even think twice; I grabbed the kid in my arms and picked him, and carried him out of the stupid pile of logs he’d gotten wedged under.

Every single pony was staring at me in shock by that point.

I looked past them just in time to see Cheerilee emerging from the schoolhouse, running to us with her face glazed over in panic.

I gave her a brief nod, maybe just to say things were okay for now.

That was the day things took another turn.

Cheerilee had been unendingly grateful. She didn’t know what had happened to the structure in the first place; the ponies hired to build the thing had been anything but shoddy, though that didn’t preclude the possibility of a construction oversight. Either way, she said, the important thing that nopony was hurt. Once again, she’d taken the chance to thank me for my help.

It was nothing, I’d said.

But she’d insisted. If there was anything she could do to repay me, please let me tell her.

I hesitated for a moment, when I thought about my confession. Staring at her pussy every time I walked her home. I thought about giving her my request, unzipping, standing up and plowing her over her desk until I filled her up with what felt like an entire lifetime’s build-up of jizz.

Another flash in my brain stopped me.

Yellow. Red bow. Southern accent.

The thought didn’t seem problematic when it occurred.

“I do have something I’d like, actually,” I’d said.