An Alicorn in Ponyville

by abrony-mouse

Rating: teen
Tags: Comedy, Romance, Adventure
Length: 11424

In which Leonard (that's me!) wakes up in Ponyville and things happen.

Thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiings <– well it asked for a long description :3 Come back! The jokes get better than that!

Ok so Leonard is a pony with horns and wings [what you foals know inaccurately as an 'alicorn']. He apparently wakes up in a world where everypony doesn't have… those things (being instead earth ponies/pegasi/unicorns).

Anyway he has a whale of a time mostly. Has a few laughs. Gets away from it all. The 'ponies' are manely taken with him and think he's an awesome guy!

Well actually… not quite. They're cool and all, but not everything about the new word is as accepting of Leonard as he would like; nor is being an alicorn in the predominantly alicornless Ponyville without consequence…

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-01-26 18:02:45 UTC

PART I: Introduction

Introduction

I wake up. I wiggle my flank. I scratch my shoulder with a hoof and yawn. And then I look around. Inches from my snout is a weird looking ‘pony’.

It’s pink. It’s a little fat. It has a glazed expression and bulgy eyes. Its horn is.. its horn is? HOLY HAY IT DOESN’T HAVE A HORN.

My horrified eyes look over the rest of the deformed pony-like creature, and quickly see it lacks wings.

That is when I realise I’m dreaming, and try to calm down.

”Slendermane lacks a face not a horn and wings, isn’t pink or a mare and wears a suit.” I quip at it, staring it down. ”You don’t frighten me!” I say, truthfully - the thing, despite its weird appearance, isn't remotely frightening.

The pink pony-shaped creature snorts, rather ungracefully. ”You call that an opening? Oh ok, I’ll play along.” she says to me, meaninglessly, before continuing in a different tone and wrapping its hooves around my neck. ”I CAN’T BELIEVE AN ALICORN IS COMING TO PONYVILLE TO MEET MY FRIEEENDS, THEY’RE GONNA BE LIKE SO SUPER EXCITED TO SEE YOU!”

I try not to grin foolishly at the excited dream-mare’s babbling. ”Wow friends! Great! I’m a ‘pony’.” I inform her and clam up, not really knowing what to say to the strange, almost uncanny, mare, and hampered by the gobbldigook about analicorns and openings. ”What are you?” I add lamely after an uncomfortable silence.

She cocks her head to one side, birdishly. ”You’re strange Mister. Twilight will love you!” she replies in an unanswering of my question sort of way.

”But not in that way I hope!” I wink and laugh, for no reason. She just tuts; this leaves my poor joke, compounded by a poor play on grammar, to languish in the still air.

Of Alicorns and ponies and pony alicorns

The pink mare continues: "So how come you were just kinda sleeping in the road? Don't all alicorns live in palaces or on moons or in Crystal palaces, or crystal moons or-"

"Alicorns 'live'" I do quotation hooves for the strange pink thing-pony "on pony's heads."

For some reason that response sends her into mad fits of giggles. I wait patiently, if mistifiedly, for the laughter to die down.

"So.." she gasps, between laughs "You live... on... your own... head." she collapses into fits of giggles again.

"Haha yes I'm a horn... look I don't really get the joke here." I say mildly, interested in how the bizarre dream plays out.

"I... think... I think...." she gasps, tears falling freely from her eyes. I don't think I've ever seen a pony so hysterical.

"I think we need to talk about something other than my horn." I cut in.

"Oh... kay..." the pony gradually calms down and we walk on in silence for a bit.

".. and I'm kinda interested to know the answer to my question before: what are you? I mean you look kinda like a pony just stunted and minus horns and wings - a bit like a pink cow."

I see the pink creature abruptly stop laughing and turn her nose up. I groan inwardly at the thought of it being one of 'those' awkward dreams.

"Uh.. not 'cow' uh.. I meant...uh goat?" I offer. No response. "No ha ha. Of course. They have horns. I meant like a.. doe."

"Listen Mr." she says in a 'teaching foals' sort of voice, "I like jokes loads... I love em! But calling ponies names is mean."

I feel ridiculously cowed by the childish admonishment.

She sighs "You are an alicorn pony. I am an earth pony. My friend D-"

"What!?" I exclaim, utterly bemused. The only thing I can think of is that she's somehow made of soil. Before you point you hooves at me and call me a foal though, kindly reflect that an earthenware bowl is made of soilish things, a mound of earth is made of soil etc etc... so an 'earth' pony... oh well I see you're not buying it.

"You're an ALLEY. CORN. PONY. I AM AN EEEARRRTH PONY." she says, loudly and slowly - punctuating each syllable with  a clop of her hooves.

"I AM A PONY PONY. YOU ARE SOME SORT OF SMALL HORNLESS WINGLESS PONY-LIKE THING." I say, imitating her, but still lighthearted.

"Oh boy." she says in a small voice "I wish I hadn't lost my cannon canon." The 'mare' produces a tiny drumset from somewhere and weakly makes a *badum tss* sound with it.

Ponyville

We arrive on the outskirts of a small village, which is idyllic to the point of ridiculousness: I look from the Windmill to the bright blue sky to the thatched rooves to the organic looking central building. I sigh happily. The dream, which had manely been weird so far, was beginning to feel a bit more sane.

"What a pleasant place your friends live in!" I observe, leaving the knotty issue of our species behind me.

"Yeah!" she says, distractedly. "Look Mr... you couldn't kind of... um.." she takes a picnic blanket out her saddlebags. A few balloons and confetti fly bizarrely out also, but the mare pays them no heed. "...wear this over your wings could you. Just so you're like a.. um... tall unicorn."

Not wanting to be drowned in gibberish again, I don't challenge the term and just play along. You would too.. it's easier. I take the blanket in my magic and wrap it round my body, trying to ignore the itchy feeling as the abrasive material rubs against my delicate feathers.

We trot into town proper. Despite my improvised disguise I detect a great deal of intrigued glances. I also notice that all the ponies are deformed: some are fully deformed, like the pink mare, while others lack either wings or horns.

The presence of the pink one seems enough to dispel their suspicions, which I suspect derive from the fact that I stand a good head and shoulders over these dwarfish 'ponies'. She is continually greeting the 'ponies' as she passes, and all in all I feel like I'm in a cheesy rural tele-drama, and loving it.

I admit I also take a guilty pleasure in being taller and more finely featured and fully formed than these runty 'ponies'. (Yeah well... it's my dream and it's easy to judge when you're not there, but being the only full pony in town freakin rawks, especially when in your own town you're kind of... well let's just say the mares aren't falling over themselves for you.) *ahem*

Anyway, feeling like "Leonard king of the Dwarves" I continue in the wake of my companion until we reach the large tree/house.

Eddie Lizard

The pink pony knocks on the door of the large tree. I don't question the plausibility of this scenario.

The door opens after a while, and the pink creature falls on her pouffy tail. I regard a purple lizard. In an apron. Holding a duster. "Pinkie?" it says, and looks up at the sky, almost warily.

She gestures at me with a pink hoof "No silly. This is... this isss? OH! In my excitement I forgot to ask you your name!"she exclaims and giggles "silly me!"

"Quite alright. My name is L-" I begin to say to the lizard, before I crack up at the absurdity of it. A deformed rotund dwarf called pinkie and a small talking lizard. "Awww ain't you just a cute lil thing." I say goofily "Talking lizards! This dream just took a turn for the awesome. What can you do?"

The lizard gives me a hooded eyes sort of look which I fail to take seriously  (failing to take talking lizard's seriously is a defining, though minor, character trait of mine). "Friend of Fluttershy?" he says, and sighs "come on in."

"He's a big dragon! Aren't you Spikey wikey!" I hear 'Pink' (Pinkie is just too foalish for me) say behind me.

"Come on through! Twilight is-" (the lizard gets cut off as I shout) "OH COME ON! Is this some weird regressive foalhood dream or what- 'Twilight,' 'Pinkie,' 'Spikey Wikey' what's next.. bucking 'Po', 'La la' and 'Dipsy'?" but I'm not too upset... there's something about them that's reassuring afterall, and I regret the comparison with the Tele-plushies. Fortunately my psyche doesn't convey the meaning of this grossly unfair comparison to the dreamworld, because the Pink one simply giggles and darts upstairs. I trot after her.

HMS Twitanic

As the room comes into view I can see that it contains: books 99%, furniture 0.9%, (miniature and wingless) purple mare 0.1%, Pink-thing 1%. The mare, though miniature, is beautifully proportioned: her graceful horn rises from her delicate head which is poised over a book; her slight, rounded, shoulders offset by a straight, almost severe, mane cut, which only serves to highlight and echo the melody of the symphony which is this mare's body. This is, literally, the mare of my dreams.. just downsized a bit. The way her tail pokes out from behind the seat alone... (tails have always been a bit of a 'thing' for me - Darwhinniest scholars swear that this is due to the way they highlight a mare's thighs; studiousness has also always attracted me {funnily enough Darwhinniests also swear as to the scientific necessity of the hotness of a pony with brains}).

During my reverie I hear segments of a muffled 'conversation' (well manely lecture) between Pink and 'Twilight'.

"Twilight! I made a new friend! Called EL he's an alicorn!"

"Pinkie I'm not falling for another prank, especially one so poorly thought out! There ARE no other alicorns - I've already asked Celestia at length on the subject of her ancestory. She explained that in the beginning there was a mother-being called Faust who drew her and Luna out of the heavens from which they derive their names. She was clear on the subject of alicorns: there were envisioned to be only two - her and Luna - and that these two would be at the center of all things, as they represent the cycles of life."

"But what about Cadence..."

"Oh Pinkie... Cadence is a unicorn! I keep telling you! Foalsitting is no occupation for an alicorn. Just because she's a princess does NOT make her an alicorn. One is a species of pony divinity. The other is a species of authority."

"Such a bad day to lose my cannon canon..." Pinkie says in a small voice, before suddenly shouting "But Twilight HE IS an ALICORN!" This breaks my reverie entirely (which had just got to a particularly juicy and not-described-in-this-fanfic stage). She throws the improvised wing-cover off me, which, considering the state of my avid interest in the purple mare causes my wings to spring impressively to attention.

The purple pony's eyes open wide, making her look, if possible, even more attractive. "OMY GOSH OH MY GOSH! CELESTIA MUST KNOW! THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE. SHE'S GOT ANOTHER SISTER ."

Know your mares

This is not the response I expected at all. Was the dream taking a weird Freudian turn? Surely the mare meant I had another sister who was called Celestia? Why should the pony I fancy immediately say I was somepony's sister. All in all this was extremely... odd. When I wake up I'm going to feel like a weird pony. For the moment though... I really like her tail.

All these thoughts flit through my head, while the mare in front of me adopts an increasingly cunning expression. "Oh ho ho. I think that on the way to see your sister we should meet with some friends of mine." she says.

"That's what I said!" the disgruntled voice of the pink pony rings out.

"Oh good... um er... I love what you've done with your mane?"

The purple mare circles me, her eyes radiating suspicion, and something colder "I think we'll see... Rainbow first."

"Oh, you're friends with a rainb-"

My words are cut off by the flaring of the purple pony's magic. I feel my body crackle and distort, rather like when a piece of tinfoil flexes and is pulled taut again. "All that studying has paid off." I say dreamily to the mare, who is now only inches from my goofy adoring face.

"RAINBOW!" the purple mare calls out - looking at a fluffy, incongruous lone cumulus cloud.

I see no rainbow. Instead I see assorted Ponyvillian ponies comically interrupted in various stages of going about their business.

"She's at Applejack's!" shouts the Pink pony from somewhere.

The weird crinkling sensation again as Twilight's magic takes hold. Twilight is panting beside me, looking tired. She groans. Desire wells up... she trots slowly to two ponies... flank swaying lazily, with its perfect purple streaked tail...

I muse again on the purple pony, in a non-described way, my mind drifting blissfully. I'm a pony in love. The cyan pony looks at me and I smile as 'he' flaps his wings and zooms straight at my-

The world goes dark for a second, as the dream presumably cuts to another scene.

* * *

I am tied to a post. My mind hurts. Minds shouldn't hurt. A number of ponies are discussing me. "She's GOING to take over Ponyville. Maybe even Equestria! We must stop her, and stop her NOW. Let's use the elements to turn her into stone!" a very angry sounding, tomcoltish hornless (but winged) pony says.

"Woah there nelly. If she's so darn powerful how come you managed to knock her out with one blow?" an orange furred pony says in a southern drawl.

"Because I'm so. freakin. AWESOME. That's why!" the tom-colt continues proudly.

"Y'all are fast and all but if this here alicorn was any sort of a threat to anypony then..." the southern drawl of the pony's voice raises a few degrees of pitch and skepticism "...why wouldn't she just use her magic to stop you?" she spits something out. It goes 'ping'. Or the thing it hits goes ping anyway.

"He's awake!" the friendly pink one's voice rings out. "And please stop calling him 'her' I'm sure he doesn't like it! He's just in a 'her' body!" this gets treated with general derision.

"Maybe she er 'he' she um is er friendly?" a ludicrously soft spoken hornless yellow pony opines. This is also ignored by the others.

"Could... anypony tell me... why I'm tied up?" I ask, my voice dripping with self pity as I regard the beautiful purple captor and her orange and cyan accomplices.

Did I hear somepony say my name?

Mi Amore Cadenza.

I look round the group of babbling, gesturing creatures to Pink's friendly face. "Is this what you meant by meeting your friends? I get tied up while they discuss stoning me?" I say to her pitifully.

"Aw... you look super sad.." she looks very down at this "But-"

"PINKIE! DON'T TALK TO HER. She could put a spell on you! She could be the end off the world. You don't talk to the end of the world. And if you do it isn't like that! She's potentially nightmare moon! Genetics! Discord! Gala!"

The others put a restraining hoof on the increasingly frazzled (but still pretty) looking purple pony.

The orange one cuts in. "Alls ah know is what's ah see." the southern accent intensifies and cowpony QC takes the floor for the moment in the kangaroo court "...this here Alicorn seems more scared o us than we are o her!"

"That's how she SEEMS! Because she wants to! She's got some evil plan! She's going to turn us all into.. into Nightmares! Like her!" Even as my accuser I couldn't help but applaud her imagination. I've always liked a mare who didn't let a good pun go to waste too.

I try to speak again, but am stopped. A comical, but also horrifying, thing happens to my mouth as the purple mare's magic affects me once again. This time my lips pucker up to become hard edges that fasten together in a zip like effect. An oversize zipper handle hangs from the side of my mouth... presumably for effect. All in all though I was sort of enjoying the drama.

The cyan one laughs. I give her a hurt look, but make no move to 'unzip' my mouth.

The yellow, pink and orange ones look rather uncomfortable; the purple one looks increasingly unhinged as she mutters about the impossibility of me. For the first time I notice a white one - the first mare to have classic proportions (not really my type next to the purple one, but still). Back home we'd call her elegant. We might also call her a 'bitch' however because all she does is look daggers at me. 'Jealous?' i think, for some reason.

After rather a lot of bickering my captors seem to increasingly mention a not unfamiliar term. Even the pink one joins in.

"SHE MUST BE A CHANGELING."

--

Obla dee obla dah obla DIE

Changelings, to my knowledge (which comes from Baldurs Gate), are grey in their natural state, with a bat-ish-ish sort of look. Fundamentally they're weird things of fantasy, which are manely known for changing their shape. They don't just change their shape - they also change pretty freakin much everything else. They're one of those fantasy concepts that is cool, but under close analysis breaks down. This leads me to doubt the current trend within some fantasy sub-genres of closely analysing things to derive story ideas. Which is sort of ironic really since- *ahem*

"You evil EVIL thing! You've come to feed on the love and kindness of all the Ponies of Equestria!" the yellow hornless one says in dulcet tones, whose bittersweetness is somehow more biting than the brazen insults of the others. A bit like when you get a cold spell in a normally hot and humid country. Anyway, the soft, burning hatred of the harmless-seeming pony chills me to the bone.

"Ah.. changeling'd explain it. This one sure chose a dumb disguise. Ask her where her queen is. Unless she IS the queen?" the cowpony gives me a hard look.

"You tricked me! NOPONY TRICKS PINKIE PIE!" she raises her hooves up, as if to stomp on me, but instead falls back down and snorts. "Pinkie... you could be tricked by anypony." I hear the cyan one mutter. (A harsh, but fair assessment on the whole... I may have only known Pink for a little while, but she's certainly a credulous type.)

"Nopony other than CELESTIA should look like that! Alicorn's proportions, black fur... this gives me an idea for a dress." the white one says. Weird compliment, weird context for it, and weird to want to immediately want to dress up for me, but you take what you get I suppose. I don't encourage her though. My eyes are solely for the purple one. If she doesn't stone me first anyway.

"Will everypony stop foaling around and just turn her to stone already? We should have done that LAST time. Well I'm prepared to finish the job!" the tomcolt growls out in a cracking voice.

"Rainbow is right." 'Twilight' begins. (Yup.. this violent tomcolt is called Rainbow. 'Rainbow' advocates your swift death. 'Rainbow' is your nemesis. 'Rainbow' will die before she sees your kind taint her world etc etc. If by this point you were wondering at my lack of real protest and failure to take the group entirely seriously then perhaps that might clue you in.) "She's probably just a vanguard for the whole Changeling army! The whole of Ponyville could be under attack!" the mare continues. "We must use"  (dramatic pause) "The elements of harmony!"

The 'ponies' around me quieten down. I notice, for the first (described) time, that they are all wearing rather fetching pieces of jewellery. I can't believe I missed the purple one's tiara - freakin gorgeous. Anyway the reason their attire suddenly caught my eye is because they're all rising into the air driven by these fetching necklaces. The impressive headpiece is leading the way. The air distorts a little in the energised haze of epic pony magic. Something epic is clearly about to happen. The epicness starts with a beam of pure white light, which seeks out each of the ponies, before splitting into rainbow colours. When this light touches their necklaces they beam some sort of energy, which makes me feel rather pleasant and sluggish.. and 'friendshippy'. I begin to hum the infectious Beatles nonsense song: obla dee obla daa life goes oooon YEY!' Lalalalala life goees ooon. I don't feel remotely scared as the purple one finally raises up herself, despite the fact that her face has been replaced by a burning white light. The painful feeling from my head diminishes, along with everything else, and I drift on a happy hazy 'dream within a dream' in which I chase a purple tail.

Distantly, as if through a tinny radio I hear the purple pony say "WE DID IT GIRLS! WE HAVE SAVED EQUESTRIA!"

"I... dunno Twa'light... I dunno..."

End of part 1

PART II: The Fresh Prince of Belle-Mare

Moon, rocks and gravy

I had many adventures chasing the purple streaked tail: I would hold out my hoof to it and the purple streaked tail would recoil; I would trot forward and the purple streaked tail would recede. You get the picture. They weren't very fulfilling adventures. There was no 'tail lifting' or 'tail nomming' or tail interaction that wasn't tinged with the subtle melancholy of separation. Eventually I decided to stop chasing tail. That was when I noticed a strange flapping noise, feeling of vertigo, and the slight whistling of wind through my strangely rigid ears. I appear to be airborne. I try to look around but my eye-lids feel too heavy to move, so that all I see is blackness. In fact the whole of me feels heavy and.. solid. Not uncomfortable though.

"NNNNGGG So... heavy!"  I hear the tomcoltish friend of 'Twilight' say from above.

"Oh yes.. I'm sorry. I'll pull harder." I hear the soft voiced one say from near the first voice.

"You wouldn't think... that she'd weigh... so much..." the tomcoltish one continues between pants. "Thighs like... a silver birch stripling - supple and elegant like... like..." she pants and pauses. (I can sympathise - reaching for a metaphor while flying is a pain in the flank.) "...like the legs of a grand piano." (Not a terrible attempt, but a bit flat. I vaguely wonder what she would have come up with if she were grounded.)

"Wow Dashie... still practicing for that fan fic you're writing?"

"Oh! Uh... no... um Fluttershy.. something else. Err... it's for an 'experiment'."

"That's right girls! Take it to the Everfree forest!" the familiar voice of 'Twilight' drifts up from somewhere below me, cutting through the awkward conversation of the airborne duo.

Another voice I recognise comes into hearing, sounding like it is continuing a conversation. "He sort of IS a changelingamagingly thingly because he CHANGED... but mayyybe he isn't like one of the insecty changlingingalingly thinglies. He seems more... pony somehow... I felt it in my tail!" the nonsense and high pitched tones of the bouncy mare 'Pink' assailed my solid ears from somewhere near Twily.

"Pink, I'm not a changeling! Tell your friends that, and while you're at it could you open my eyes and itch my snout." I fail to say, my mouth suffering from the inertia and rigidity of the rest of my body.

"Pinkie! I need your Pinkie sense to make.. well.. sense for once! What do you mean!?" 'Twilight' continues the conversation from below, sadly without my input.

A familiar snorting noise "Silly! I mean that even if he's a changelinginging he's a pony too! He isn't MEAN!"

"But why? How? Have you got any proof? She must be a Changeling like Crysalis if she's changed shape to become an alicorn! That's what a changeling is! There are no OTHER changelings-"

"That you know of darling." the distracted tones of the elegant white wingless pony drift up from below and behind me.

The purple pony mutters something in response.

"And ah've been round town. There's no changelings Twi." the cowpony joins in.

More muttering.

"Come on Twi. T'aint right.. an we gotta tell Celestia."

"NO! If she finds out I turned her sister to stone she'll banish me to... I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT SHE'LL BANISH ME TO FOR DOING THAT!"

The other voices mutter something almost in unison - it sounds like spoon.

"And if ya don't Twi? Don't ya think ya kinda makin this worse?"

"GAH! Fine! Rainbow, drop her!"

After a second the flapping seems to stop and I get a terrible feeling of vertigo.

"Dangnabbit Rainbow be careful! You might hurt her!" the cowpony warns.

I accept the conversation passively. It seems like the thing to do at the moment.

--

It's π life

The air around me feels.. magicky again, and I feel 'friendshippy' again...

And then I feel other things again - like the cool breeze through my fur and feathers, and the sun on my forehead.

I stretch. This is a bit of surprise in itself, since for what feels like ages I've been immobile. I risk trying to open my eyes, and, unlike the risks associated with professional gambling syndicates, this risk pays off as they finally open!

"Now look ere Missy... just who ARE you?"

"Yeah!" most of the others chorus, with varying degrees of intent.

"Yeah!" the white one says, late, regarding me (or more accurately my flank) with an abstracted expression.

"Why my name is L-"

"We know that, EL! But are you..." she pauses impressively "here to take over.. Equestria!" she stands defiantly in front of me, purple streaked mane fluttering a little in the convenient wind.

I pause to take the effect in, but avoid leering; instead I nobly address myself to the content of her speech. "Didn't ponies do that already?" I begin, academically. "Well I mean they didn't take over Equestria... the buffalo weren't technically possessing the land in any bureaucratically recognised sense, so you wouldn't describe it as a classic case of deprivation of ownership, as that concept ultimately stems from sovereignty! Although I know this is a somewhat unpopular perspective these days I feel..." Why do I get the feeling that the dream mares are giving me a bad review?

"Could she be a sort of female discord? The spirit of nonsense?" 'Twilight' opines.

The other 'ponies' look uncertain.

"Sugarcube, what we mean to say is..." (is 'sugarcube' southern? It sounds right but also not somehow.) "...are you Celestia's sister?"

"Oh well I'm glad you asked, because I really would prefer it if the dream stay away from uh.. sisters and mothers and such. My Dad is called John, my Mother is called Sarah. They are boring and old and my feelings towards them are entirely well adjusted. I have one older sister who I love in a dull, mundane and unpsychological way... someponies might think I was jealous of her for being the first born, but allow me to prove them wrong! You see you might say she's been a bit more successful than me, and I accept that she lives her life well, but it's her life! I wouldn't want it anymore than anypony else's!" I ramble on to the dream mares about my surprisingly normal family relationships. Their expressions vary markedly.. The pink one nods along seriously. The white one looks at me like she's contemplating some sort of differential equation where flank = 2 π. The yellow one looks sympathetic. The purple, orange and cyan ones are looking at me as if I was mad. "But I can't say I've made even the acquaintance of somepony as grandly named as 'Celestia'." I finish.

"Twah... she talks a bit like Discord alright... 'bout as much sense as Granny Smith makes after drinking zap apple cider, but don't yah get the feeling she's about as dangerous as... as..."  there's an uneasy silence as the mare grasps for a suitable southernism "...an uh.. granny smith apple."

The bad attempt carves another awkward silence out of the group.

"You're..." the attractive purple pony pauses, then looks defeated, her snout pointing to the perfect grassy ground. "You're right! Nothing dangerous could be so silly!"

--

The purple mare regards me uncertainly. "Girls... do you mind if I spend some time alone with EL?"

FINALLY! Oh God please PLEEASE don't let me wake up yet!

Through a rose tinted haze I hear the other 'ponies' assent and retreat.

She approaches deferentially, and, rearing up, places a cautious hoof against my neck fur. "Who ARE you?" her innocent pale purple eyes gaze up into mine - it takes everything in me not to lower my snout to hers - but I want to prolong the moment, and the dream, and so I restrain myself. "I am Leonard and-"

I stop as the mare looks perplexed. She stares deep into my eyes, as if reading me. "Len... nard..." she says the name as if she were judging its quality based on criterion stemming from a naming tradition based around glitter "And why are you here. Len... nard."

This perplexes me. It's not often in a dream that you get the 'why' question. For a moment I wonder if I'm not dreaming, but I think you'll agree with me that ever since talking with Pink everything has had a dream-like quality to it.  "To make... friends?" I say after a while. For some reason I feel guilty, as if I might secretly really be a changeling somehow.

"But... how do you expect me to believe that! You just randomly show up at my home with Pinkie, and you're an ALICORN, a PONY GOD!?" she's upping the volume again.

"Look." I say slowly. "I'm just a normal pony. I have wings. I have a horn. I have four legs. I have a tail. I have needs-" I say hopefully, trying to get the conversation back on track.

"Err Miss? Hate to break it to you but normal ponies don't have wings or horns."

"YOU ALREADY DID THAT. GET OOON WITH IT!" Pink says from somewhere.

Twilight ignores her, as do I, because something far more important has only just dawned. "It is Mr by the way. Mister Leonard. I'm a stallion and proud. Yup. Stallion." You might find that unduly definite - an almost cocky assertion of gender - a kind of primal rawr of masculinity. But you know buck you! I AM a guy, and I've never had any weird thoughts about it, so it stands to reason that my gender shouldn't just be casually disregarded in my dreams. Also, if you were standing next to a gorgeous vulnerable, wanting mare (I'm free to do that in my dreams also btw) you are especially irked at being called 'Miss' - it's profoundly emasculating.

Twilight groans. "You're about as much help in identifying yourself as.. as... Pinkie's wretched lizard! You are a winged unicorn mare with proportions akin to a fully grown Princess!"

'Princess' is somehow more emasculating than 'mare'. I begin to wonder if waking up now would be the thing, but I reflect that if I woke up now I might remember that at the height of my lust for a delicate nubile (if wingless) mare I get rebuffed and called a princess. Would my colthood ever survive such a memory? No I would need to see this through.

--

The art of the cross-dresser

The small purple mare snorts "Come with ME!"

I sigh with relief that the dream has moved on from the awkwardness.

"We're going home!" the mare blows a stray piece of mane out her eyes and clops along.

I notice that the other ponies, 'her friends,' are looking at us uneasily. I get a sudden feeling that they might start clicking their hooves Equestria-side story style and follow us, but fortunately they don't.

However, the white one does trot toward me. "Here... it's not much, but I thought it might help her blend in." the elegant white pony produces an entirely non-descript utilitartian piece of fabric for covering my wings, not unlike the picnic blanket which Pinkie had produced, just a little more comfortable. So stop looking at me like that. She's obviously a down to earth and forward thinking sort of pony who would do that. A business-pony. Also... WHOSE DREAM IS THIS ANYWAY! If you're imagining me in a quickly thrown together but remarkably overdesigned satin dress that is entirely due to your perverse imagination.

Anyway having established that my masculinity is in tact I think we can move on.

"Rarity, it's so beautiful." the yellow one says approvingly.

"Thank you dear - oh it's just a little thing I threw together. I had to! It's not everyday you get to design something for a princess!" she says, radiating modesty.

"How can you 'just throw together' something as lacey as that? She looks like she's going to the Gala!" the cyan one says half irritably, half amusedly.

The orange one just snorts. "Bang up job Rarity... couldn't ya just have made something simple like ya did for Twa's birthday?"

"It's very... nice, but SHE IS NOT! GAH! Girls! You're not being helpful!" Twilight snaps irritably

"Yeah! And he looks ridiculous!!" 'Pink' opines.

As gollum would say: 'I'm not listening'.

--

Bronyville

Thinking hard about hoofball, beer and sexy mares in saddles, I trot beside my purple companion. ("She'd take a size 8 I reckon bruv" I say to myself "Naah, sexy flank like that'd take a 6 hur hur. Caw imagine err in stirrups." ... "Caw bruv.. cawww." Yeah well I've never felt the need to really be a red-blooded stallion before... as if you could do much better in the situation.).

We head back through the rural idyll of the deformed diminutive dwarves. I notice many an amazed glance. I really wish the.. uh.. oversized shirt didn't have quite such a long shirt-train, as the dwarf-ponies keep on picking it up. Soon I acquire three foals trotting along self importantly with the uh shirt-hem in their mouths. I turn back round quickly - eyes staring determinedly ahead. This. Isn't. Happening. In. My. Dream.

I put up with the intrigued glances. I put up with the growing audience of cooing mares. I don't put up with the growing audience of stallions... admiring my uh stallionniness. "Twily" I hiss to her - the word 'Twilight' isn't about to pass my lips, it's too bucking absurd "could we speed things along a bit."

She groans "Yeah... wait a moment will ya.." her hot horn (in both senses ;3) lights up again, and I feel her magic grab me and 'crinkle' me. I open my eyes to see her slump, exhaustedly, onto a chair, back in the tree/house book-room where I first met her.

Much better.

--

A surprising amount of High School biology

The first thing I do is remove the ludicrous oversized 'shirt'. Or at least I would if it hadn't been fastened on. I've never worn a shirt with straps before. The mare looks at me bemusedly as my magic looks to untuck and untie the 'shirt'. She finally gets off the stool, practically wobbling with fatigue "Enjoying... your... dress? Or is it... not up... to your... standards 'princess'?" she wheezes sarcastically, doing quotation hooves. Well at least she doesn't seem to agree with the 'princess' description, perhaps soon we can work past the 'mare' description as well?

I smile at her uncertainly and stop trying to remove the restrictive 'shirt'.

"My... friends... might... buy your lame-flank story..." she continues, gradually getting her breath "...but I don't! I NEED PROOF!" her horn lights up and she drags me towards, and down, a set of stairs  (bouncing and sliding on my hooves) into another book-room. Did I mention I quite like 'strong mares'? Not in a sissy way, but I really find it adds some spice  to a relationship... Will you stop giving me that look ok? Who's more of a stallion? The guy who conquers some soft spoken helpless submissive or the one who bends a snorting, raging career oriented mare to his will?

Conveniently by the end of that self conscious [and rather sexist ~ ed.] little narrative I reached the bottom of the stairs. She trots on determinedly, dragging me to the middle of a much larger bookish room.

"STAY THERE! If you so much as move your horn, so help me Celestia I'll give you a moustache so large it'll take weeks to shave off!" Classic transformation magic, oh my sweet talented darling.

She trots into another room, and shuts the door. I look around a bit, but find nothing worthy of description. I mean there's lots of stuff to say about the inside of books, but not a great deal to say about their outside, even en masse. You see I'm actually perfectly happy with the current trend of putting books on a Kindle, as 'holding a book in hoof' just isn't a priority for me compared to avoiding having a load of boring and quite space consuming items obscuring the walls. Anyway other than the quantity of books (a difficult thing to be interesting about) there is not much else I think I can say about this room. I could be 'funny' and say there was a quantity of shelves too I suppose. Oh there is one thing - you know I said that this place was a tree/house - well this room reflects the tree-ish nature of the overall construction, by being circular. A point I might make about building houses inside trees (if for some reason you're still reading this ridiculous paragraph) is that the structure of a tree is in fact provided by its central xylem tissue which dies and hardens leaving a dead lignin structure behind it. Twily's tree is presumably either synthetic or magical since it clearly isn't relying on principles of structural bio-engineering to stand up. Incidentally what sort of middle class faux pas would it be to live inside an artificial tree?

I hear much banging from the room the mare disappeared into. "SPIIIIIIKE SPIIIIIIKE! WHERE DID I PUT MY X-RAY? YOU KNOW THE ONE I USED ON FLUTTERSHY'S PET DOE WHO'D SOMEHOW BROKEN ITS CUTE FWUFFY TAIL."

The green lizard rushes through the room, headed towards the other room. We exchange a sympathetic glance before he rushes off. I like this lizard.

"Uh I dunno Twilight..." mutter mutter (there is a dooor in the way you know, my perky pony ears can't hear everything for you) "What about Owlicious' nest?" {...OH TO THE DOUBLE-YOU- ELLE EYE-CEE-EYE-OH-YOU [beat] ESS. THERE AIN'T NO X-RAY [beat] IN OWEL-ICIOUS-ES NEST, JUST OWLICIOUS. The narrator butts in, singing to a funkay beat. 'Who's the narrator?' you say. Buck knows. On with the story.} "HOW ABOUT IN THE CUPBOARD WITH THE PINK FLUFFY HANDLE THAT SAYS 'PRIVATE'" 'Spike's' voice continues,

"NO! NOT THERE GET AWAY FROM IT EEEEEH!" she shouts, and then screams in a fillyish way. I find it pretty hot.

"Oh wait! I FOUND IT! UNDER THE BOX WHICH IS LABELED 'NARRATIVE CONVENIENCE'"

Mutter mutter. Bang mutter bang. Mutter. If I were a bad writer I'd just copy and paste those lines for a while, because there was in fact quite a bit of banging and muttering, presumably while they set that up. I sat still fidgeting in my oversized shirt while they did this. I may even have drifted off because I next remember seeing Spike beckoning me with a claw and saying "If you would trot this way Miss; Twilight is ready to see you now."

--

Gratuitous Clop

I clop into the room. The door shuts behind me.

'Twilight' isn't sitting next to the x-ray with a mini-skirt and open necked nurse's uniform. As a logical result of this absence the miniskirt doesn't reveal her to be wearing cotton panties. Similarly by logical necessity the non-existent panties do not highlight the roundness of the diminutive mare's perfect hemispheres, nor do they give an impression of the wanting softness that nestles hidden between the mare's supple purple thighs.

Instead of these marvelous possibilities she is looking at me irritably, sweating heavily (giving off quite a strong and unpleasant scent) and gesturing for me to step towards a large and rather crude looking metal apparatus.

Not one to disobey such a gesture I trot towards it.

"Lets see these 'wings' of yours." she says sarcastically.

Still unable to entirely remove the shirt, I instead contrive to push one of my wings through it. I don't know if you have wings, but basically it's like having an extra set of fore-legs that are sort of curved in on themselves. The protruding bit of a wing is in effect  the 'elbow'. The reason I mention this is because trying to push your wing through a shirt is like wearing a shirt with your elbows in the sleeves, and that position is really really hard to get out of. That explains why all I managed to achieve was ruffling my wings about and stomping around like a filly who couldn't get out of her prom dress.

Twilight remained silent throughout this episode. Obviously she isn't into physical comedy. The lizard, however, seemed very amused. "Hahaha that has.. gotta be... the goofiest 'princess'.. I've ever... seen!" I hear him say through bouts of hicupping, bellyish laughter.

"Spike, kindly take this clown's wing out of her dress." I hear a bored and irritable sounding mare say.

"Will do Twi." I feel the lizard mount me. That's not a sentence I ever expected to say. Anyway, I don't know how it is for non-ponies but being mounted is basically not something any respectable stallion  allows to happen willy nilly. There is but one response: I had to buck him. I was hampered by the clothing of course, but I think I did a fair job, because I soon felt him dismount me. At least if the term 'dismount' extends to flying through the air and crashing into a large pile of books.

Either between the bucking or the lizard's efforts the shirt seems to shift off my wing a bit, and it finally extends.

"Good enough!" the purple mare says, and I feel her magic pull the shirt off my eyes and pull my finally dislodged left-wing out.

I see the lizard rise from a pile of books, his eyes rolling comically. I shoot him an apologetic glance which isn't returned.

"Now we'll see, con-mare, if your wing stands up to scrutiny." she rubs her hooves and grinds her teeth in a rather disturbing way.

She pulls my wing roughly against two blocks of metal attached by a forest of wires to a contraption (which, as the mare's magic touches it, begins to hum). Again I return to my passive state - I'm a fairly tolerant sort of colt when treated right.

The machine hums away, as does the mare, whose eyes are glued to a monitor on the machine. She gradually moves my wing over the length of the metal thingies (machines aren't my thing) tutting irritably the whole while.

After a while she says "Other wing." rather abruptly. For a moment I fear a repeat of the farce with my left wing, but am spared repetition by the agile claws of the green flanged lizard, who had approached my other side. "Already there Twilight!"

I poke my right wing from the opening and it gets the same treatment.

The next bit takes a long time. Far. Too. Long. I mean I'm a fan of scientific rigor, and I love benefiting from science! Where would I be without computers? Where would I be without synthetic medicines or fabrics? But lets face it- bits of science are bucking dull. Anyway this mare checks, re-checks, writes up the results, hypothesizes, negative hypothesises blah blah blah science blah. She doesn't let up an inch though. Anyway after what seemed like days, but which was probably merely a long working day (the lizard gave me some sort of hay-based drink and I caught a bit of sleep standing on my hooves) she finally stops.

"This..." she wheezes "...is.... not... possible!" her voice gradually gains in volume "...EITHER I'M WRONG OR YOU ARE AN ALICORN... BUT YOU'RE NOT! AND IF MACHINES CAN'T PROVE THAT YOU AREN'T! THEN FRIENDSHIP WILL!"

But does that mean what I think it means?

End of Part II

PART III: Meet Randy

Part III

Eat Randy

The pastel colored love of my life and I are trotting towards her friend's home and business, which I'm informed is wholesomely named 'Sweet Apple Acres.' (Before then a few boring things probably happened, like blahblahlah we trotted out of the door or whatever, but you know how it is with boring stuff in dreams it just doesn't stick in the memory.) Unfortunately the salient points of this journey, such as its purpose, are still pretty unclear to me, but at least it's another pleasant sunny day.

"Twily-" I break the silence, but am cut off.

"I really wish you'd stop calling me that... only my brother calls me that."

Not wanting to be incest-zoned I assent. (Still not calling her 'Twilight' though.) "Twi. I love meeting your friends, I really do! But I really need you to help me out here. The last time I met these two I'm sure that your cyan friend – uh, Rambow or something-"

"Rainbow."

"Yeah - Randy. Anyway, you said something to her and she attacked me. I don't understand. I mean I usually make a good first impression... everypony says so." (A slight exaggeration, but absolute honesty isn't a practical basis for a strong relationship, I feel.)

"Ugh! You wanna KNOW why she attacked you? You're impersonating an alicorn! That's kind’ve a  big deal! We thought you were a Changeling, and some of us still think you might be. But even if you're not then whatever you are can't be good! I've never even seen illusion magic like this."

I switch topics from the subject of my horn (my alicorn). It stands to reason that the deformed ponies of this town would find my wholesome, fully formed horn rather trying after all, and I just want to put her at ease with her more feminine, diminutive spire.

"Did I ever mention that I really respect what you've achieved here? The power and range of magic you're using is incredible! Are you some sort of prodigy? Has anypony told you that you're beau-"

I notice that the mare isn't listening, and is instead looking around distractedly. "RAINBOW! APPLEJACK! SHE'S HERE!" Twi suddenly shouts.

There is no visible, audible or other type of response amenable to pony sensory apparatus that is discernible from the scene in front of me.

"But Applejack is never late... Rainbow must be delaying her! UGH!" my purple streaked companion complains. I take my chance; it might be a while before I was alone with her again. I lean in, speaking softly and closing my eyes:

"As I was saying; the way your mane falls over those fine cheekbones of yours, and round that perfectly formed snout, is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." I'm unable to restrain myself; I finally slide my snout against hers and push my tongue through those dark, tremulous lips. Or I would have anyway if her muzzle had met mine.

Instead I hear her say "COME ON!" from some distance away. To be honest though, I don't mind; the chase is worth it. If anything it only makes me more eager. I trot once more after the purple streaked tail which offsets and highlights the faintly glistening and swaying flank of Twi.

--

Awkward narrative

We trot through a charming agricultural landscape. (This in itself is a clear give-away as to the unreality of my situation. In a modern agricultural economy rural landscapes are anything but charming; they're typically flat, brown, noisy, poorly serviced for casual clopping and contain often un-aesthetically pleasing ponies called 'farmers'.) I admire the landscape dotted with fields full of different crops implausibly at similar stages of development, [smartflank ~ ed.], and observe, after trotting a while, a bright red farmhouse nestling in the midst of this scene. I fail to notice in the distance a smaller, carrot topped, farmhouse. I sigh contentedly and look at the small purple wingless mare beside me.

She doesn't reflect the calm serenity of the scene before me. Her head is down, her ears are down, her eyes are hooded and her gait is irritable. She's muttering something about 'tardiness'.

We approach the red farmhouse. A bell sounds. Not on its own, I suspect. (I think that Twi probably pulled some sort of bell-pull, but I missed that. I'm SORRY! First-pony style has its drawbacks! I know that now :pinkiesad2: .) Nothing happens for a while. After that while, nothing happens again. I can sympathise there; I'm no avid bell-ringer, and even with good friends I leave a respectful two-and-a-bit whiles between rings. However, when you have a narrative and a stranger waiting for a door to open you do need to engage in an awkwardness proportionality exercise; ringing again too soon might make me look like a busybody, but ringing too late makes it look like I don't mind my guest waiting around in the cold. It's a doozy. Anyway on the third while of nothing happening Twilight rings the bell again.

What would be awkward is if nopony answered the bell again. Which did happen, and it was awkward.

(Well... that is what happened. What of it? Never read an awkward narrative before? What right has text got to be departing from the mundane reality of everypony's day to day existence? What... so you think this is all about making things easy for you? Don't you think that'd leave you a bit complacent?  You think I'm narrative's slave? I'm an independent pony! I do what I please! Do you know what... maybe the ponies got their wires crossed and the entirety of the coming narrative will be about Twilight double-checking the messages on her phone, embarrassedly saying things like "oh well... the weather's nice today... um... so out of character for those two, ha ha. Somepony is sure to answer the door soon, ha ha." And all the while Applejack and her family have gone on holiday in another state and don't appear for the rest of the fanfic. <-- Imagine 3k-ish more words of that! I'm warning you I could do it! And then what would you do?)

On the third and final ring... (You know what, screw you all!) On the awkward, not narratively sensible, arbitrary and dissatisfying 8th ring a green zombie-pony lolls its head out of the saloon style door, its sickly hanging skin draping over the glistening red woodwork. The unnatural being animates suddenly, its eyes boring into mine and its cavernous mouth gasping open.

Bridle Gossip

[The editor would like to convey his sincerest apologies for the ageism of the last paragraph. Age is nothing to make light of, and affects us all deeply. If you, or anypony you know, have been affected by age please contact Age Concern.]

"Ah say A-Wha-AAT ih-IHS iiit? 'darnable younguns ah bustling een... in the middle oh mah naahp!" the decrepit nag says/grumbles in a tricky to portray warbling southern tone which instantly makes me think 'even if she's a bit on the wrong side of the century she's a spunky old gal ain't she'.

"Oh hello Granny Smith, is Applejack in?" Twi asks.

"Ah done thingk soo young'un! Ah think she's... ah spending time with Raaambow down in tha- there yon baa-AAAHN!" Twi continues. NOT! (Gotcha! That was Granny Smith again! See you should really be more careful.)

"Oh! Thank you Granny Smith! We'll go there now!"

"It's uh niiiice too meet-cho again too um.. uhhhhm"

"It's 'Twilight', Granny Smith." Twi says indulgently. She turns to me to explain. "I'm kinda new here."

"Naaaaa'ce to meEET you Twwaaahligght annnd yor biiiihg friiieehnd!" she warbles and wheezes with particular strength as she looks up at me. I notice the elderly pony's lower lip becoming covered in slobber through the extended and emphatic speech. I don't mind about that though, as age occurs to all of us [much better ~ed.].

We wave our hooves to the nag, and we turn to trot companionably towards, and indeed inside, the barn indicated. In the musty silence of the sun-streaked dust-shadows a steady, low panting can be heard. The panting is unmistakably coming from two hot, young mares; the shallow breaths seem to indicate that the mares were until recently exerting themselves strenuously and suddenly stopped, as if interrupted by me and Twi in the middle of...

My cheeks are instantly burning, and my wings thrust achingly against the confines of the 'shirt' covering my wings. (I didn't mention this before, because it didn't come up ok *glowers* but this isn't the overdesigned shirt I was wearing the other day. This one was a small red number, borrowed from Twilight, although the label reads 'Property of Fluttershy if that's um ok with you'.)

I look down. However, Twi doesn't seem fazed. "Applejack is that you!? What are you doing?" Her voice conveys genuine incredulity. Either she was a brilliant actor or she genuinely couldn't guess! Such purity, such innocence.

"Uh! Twah! Uh… hey! Uh... I'll uh... be right down. I'm uh... restin! up... here... all on mah own ha ha an musta forgot the tahme! You jus… uh... go back into the house and we'll uh… finish up... oh hayseed," the cowpony's voice sounds out from the hay-loft, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of hoof hitting snout.

"'We', what do you mean?" Twi asks, reasonably.

"Uh Twah.. uh ah.. call mahself 'we' as in... uh... the royal... uh... we!"

"Umm... AJ, what's going on..?" she pauses and mutters "Perhaps El has corrupted her like Discord did? I must help her!" "You stay there AJ. I'm coming!" (I like to think that the ponies in the hay loft said something witty and erotic like 'so are we' but they were presumably too aroused to come up with anything.)

The next bit suffers greatly from me not being able to fly up and see. I don't think I've ever been so frustrated in a dream. Throughout the following conversation I tried everything to get the wretched red 'shirt' off. I was so desperate I even jumped up and down trying to see. The problem was that there didn't seem to be a ladder to the hay loft and there was no obvious other form of access on hoof. (Just so you know: this didn't bother my teleporting companion.)

Anyway the conversation went like this:

"Rainbow! What are you doing here!? I thought you said... are you... WHY ARE YOU WEARING A BRIDLE!"

"NNNGGG NNNGGG," a frustrated, muffled sounding Randy replied, evidently restricted by something in her mouth.

"Uh… Twah… it's not what it looks like!"

"Why... uh... what's that jar of maple syrup doing here?" (If I hadn't been so desperate I might have reflected on the fact that she sounded genuinely curious... my poor sweet innocent Twi.)

"Uhhhm."

"NNNNGGG!"

"Why... it's all over your snout Applejack!"

"Uhhmmm?"

"NNG NNNG NNNNNNGGGG!"

"Here... let me take the bit out. I can't make out a word you're OH SWEET CELESTIA ARE YOU OK RAINBOW?"

"She's fahne Twilight... dunno how that got there ha ha"

"She's... she's tied up and practically impaled on a broom! What's going on..!?"

There followed a great deal of whisperings, 'oooooings' and 'aaaaahings' as the mares consorted. This culminated in a deal of crashing, thudding, whinnying and what can only be described as squelching...

--

Essential to the plot

Suddenly the purple mare appears next to me. She looks determined. She also looks likes she's seen things maaan. Snorting dismissively at the hastily assembled farm-equipment 'ladder' I was in the process of making she says "There's no need. Come with me."

(My state of arousal at this point is roughly on a par with Britain's state of alert, which is to say substantial).

We leave the barn and trot slowly back to the farmhouse. She breaks the aroused silence: "I imagine you're wondering why I've brought you here?"

For a foursome with you and your sexy friends? I think, but I don't want to rush the dream so I limit myself to saying: "Oh... yes?"

"Well... ok you might as well know. On the basis of my quantum-friendship studies I have constructed a working hypothesis that beings with high level of latent harmonium, or its opposite, discordium, are affected by exposure to the elements of harmony. An alicorn Princess, such as Celestia or Luna, has high levels of harmonium and will therefore be attracted to the elements of harmony; similarly a monster will be repulsed by the elements due to their discordium levels; a normal pony meanwhile will be unaffected. I plan to observe your behaviour with my friends, who are also elements, and evaluate your state of attraction and repulsion."

"Oh." I respond. (To be honest I think that was more for your benefit anyway. Read it again or something. I'll tell you where my mind is right now: 'My hooves push Twi's horn into **** and Randy gives a muffled yelp as I *****. Finally my own horn flares as I *******... [section deleted: 'irrelevant speculation' surely not worth the mature rating ~ ed.] We finally stop and rest on the hay mattress. Twi, who is now wearing the cowpony's stetson (comically falling over one her eyes) and a white work shirt, murmurs into my perky pony ear 'Oh Leonard. You're such a stud.' Her friends coo in agreement as they play with my curly pony chest fur.)

The voice of the real Twi cuts into my reverie, switching from a scientific to a commanding businessmare-like tone.

"The elements of loyalty and honesty are indisposed. It is my intention to retrieve supplies from the farmhouse that will restore them." She trots ahead. I notice for the first time that she is actually seething with anger, which perhaps explains the clipped delivery. On realising this I feel, if possible, even more horny. I barely avoid describing her as 'spunky'.

She doesn't seem to expect a response, so I simply watch the plot ahead of me sway as she clops over the cobbles. That plot... promising, promising promising... soon there would be climax... and then warm reconciliation and resolution. My mind drifts on in a sexy haze.

We reach the farmhouse.

"Stay here!" I'm told, firmly.

I stay. Like a good colt.

After a while spent thinking about ***** [... ~ ed.] Twilight returns carrying a bottle of strong spirits, some rope, and a long leather riding whip. We return undescritpively to the barn; needless to say my mood could be described (poorly) as very-anticipatory-of-sexypony'y'.

The Pony Caterpillar

"Stay here." Twi commands again. My ears, horn, tail, snout, lower horn etc. droop with disappointment.

She teleports into the basement NOT {her friends are in the 'hay loft'; I was just checking that you're clued into the, if I may say so myself, finely worked out and consistent physics of this story; and not baffled by the arbitrary narration and dubious grammar}.

From the hay loft come mutterings. I like to think that Twi was priming them with the hard liquor to accept that I tie the cowpony to her with the rope and fit herself into the cyan one (horn to 'tail') so that I can ride them all round the barn whipping them with the whip. I vaguely wonder who would make the cutest noise in that scenario, and have to concede that I suspect the tough tom-colt would squeak like a starling.

Occupied by yet another ludicrous fantasy I fail to notice immediately that the muttering has ceased. It appears the pony-caterpillar-to-be has reached a decision.

"EL EL!! Will ya get up here?" I hear Twi shout from the hay loft. "Kinda need your help." (Told you it was a good idea to stick with the dream.)

My various pony parts return to attention and I gallop majestically up the hastily constructed farm equipment 'ladder'  (from before) and leap through the air not unlike a male Black Beauty. Thanks to my new ardor, and the dwarfish scale of the barn, my front hooves find the edge of the hay loft; I trot gracefully into the roomy space, kicking up some of the hay whose loft this was.

Unlike in the real world I don't feel faintly nervous at the thought of the enormous pony-orgy I was about to have with these (still gloom-hidden) nymphettes. I feel calm, cool and powerful as I strut through the heavy air of the loft.

My eyes adjust to the dimness. Twi's plot greets me, and shortly afterwards, so does her face.

"I think you better be the one to explain AJ..." she says in a weary voice. I notice the cyan one sulking, her face obscured  by an arrangement of leather straps, her lips rudely parted by a metal bit and her wings tied to her body.

"Well gee El... ah am sorry for hahdin from yah. We thought that Twah might'a brought one ah the others along, and we didn't want them to see..."

As she had been speaking I had already begun clopping forward to begin the business. I notice the cyan one's cheeks are crimson... I haven't even done anything and I feel close to climax! I try to stay cool. I really don 't want this to be over too fast.

"Well anyway Miss, as you can see, Rainbow here is in a spot 'o' bother."

So close... so close... too close! I try to think of unsexy things. Dustin Koski comes readily to mind. That ugly c***.

"I... uh... yes!"

"Ok what happened was we were havin like a competition cus we knew Twah wanted 'the strongest friend' to go first wi' your test thingie. An ah said...", she turns to the cyan pegasus, wags her hoof at her, and adopts an 'I told you so' sort of tone, "...'Rainbow you may be the fastest but no way are you the strongest.'"

Twah, uh I mean... 'Twi', snorts disapprovingly.

(Personally I'm fine with this; I do admire build up in a sexypony roleplay. When you're into a bit of bridle-an-stirrup ;3 you want to really believe that the pony tied up really is a defenseless young faun etc etc, and that requires a believable story.)

The cowpony turns back to me. "Anyway ah won... o course." she cocks a knowing eyebrow at the unfortunate cyan pony. "She's got good forelegs from all that landin and takin off an flighty stuff, but those wimpy hindlegs ain't [sic] cut it."

"Please Applejack!" Twi interrupts impatiently.

--

My name is buck

"Ah raaht Twi I'm gettin to it. So anyway how this here mess happened was that Rainbow wouldn't accept loosin! She kept goin on and on at me sayin that I had an advantage becus ah my applebuckin! As if that was ANYTHIN lahk her cheatin with her wings! Ah knew that you and El was comin round an I ahm sorry, but ah just had to shut her up! She was jus' unbearable..! Worse 'an Pinkie even! So ah agreed do one fahnal game to decide the winner."

I clop a hoof, not quite skittering, but getting a bit tired of the exposition. As I said, I do love build up... but I'm thinking that this is possibly going a bit far; I'm still as horny as a herd of reindeer though, so not too many complaints.

"This game was a balancin' game. Raht here in the hay loft. Who could balance the most stuff on our snouts the longest. Rainbow there got that broom, but that were'nt good enuff for her! No she had to go an' get mah jar o maple-syrup too! Anyway consarn the mare she DID balance it all raht by STICKIN EVERYTHIN ON WI' PINE RESIN! Well ah realised pretty quick what was goin on seein as anypony who's raised a barn knows the smell oh a bit oh pine resin... an ah may have lost mah temper a bit an bucked a pot oh resin over her cheatin head... That was when she got stuck to the floor... an shortly after with her buckin an'all... the broom an the syrup an' everything got stuck to her! An then she was hollerin so much that ah got one oh gran's ole bridles on her... then you two came in!"

Was... this... part of the roleplay? Something was off about this certainly, and not just the inconsistent portrayal of her ahhccent, but I remained hopeful that the sexypony would begin soon. It stands to reason that nopony's psyche would be so unnecessarily cruel.

As the cowpony had been talking Twilight had been busy applying the spirits to the fur, feathers and hooves of the cyan pony.

"But now that's all cleared up and ya know what's up we jus need you to help with the broom." the cowpony says matter of factly. "Need a unicorn because everytime I try to touch it..."

I begin to tune out the cowpony's southern drawl. I peer at the broomhandle in the gloom. It disappeared up the mare's remarkably athletic, trim, cyan flank only to bury itself under her rainbow coloured 'spunky' tail. What happened next is therefore not my fault.

Assuming the cowpony's request to be a come on I pick the broom up with my magic and push it into the mare. Because I'm rather turned on, and because I think that the tom-colt looks like she must be into that sort of thing, maybe I didn't make it the gentlest of shoves, but I didn't 'ram' her with it or anything! I'm not that sort of stallion.

Anyway the mare goes freakin CRAZY! She wriggles madly and screams into the bit so hard she's frothing. The cowpony picks up the rope that Twi brought and tries to lassoo her friend. Twi just looks shocked and does nothing.

The mare, aided by Twi's solvent, manages to get her hind hooves unstuck. She doesn't use this new found freedom for my benefit. To be precise she uses her now free hooves to buck me on the chest, very hard.

I fall back, winded, and actually like really really really sore in my chest. Like more sore than I've ever felt there, or anywhere on my pony body. I'm also pretty much unable to breathe. Now I'm not a sadist but I'm certainly not a masochist. I don't associate any pain with sexypony, but especially not my own. Nor do I do the whole asphyxiation thing. Anyway my boner dies a gruesome, withering death; but that is only the beginning of the fight for the life of the, uh, rest of me.

"Dash! EL! NO!" Twi whinnies in surprise and falls over.

"Wait up Twah I got her!" the cowpony readies her improvised lassoo again. The utter implausibility of her doing so fails to bother me even a little as I see the rope wind round the shoulders of the enraged mare and begin to drag her some way away from me so that her next buck misses my face, by inches.

I fall on my plot. I also fail to breath again. I feel really cheated by this... I have the same right to breath as anypony, and I just hate having my rights violated. I begin to feel quite upset. Not only am I not having sex, it looks like I'm going to die from asphyxiation as well! I know I've not always been the best pony, but I don't think this is fair.

Through darkening eyes I see the cyan pony bucking madly, but just about restrained by the cowpony's rope.

Next I see Rainbow lit up in Twi's familiar magical aura and lifted bodily into the air.

The last thing I see is the cowpony's face looming into mine as she forces her lips hard against mine and exhales.

End of Part III