Love Parasite

Chapters

Chapter 1 - A Courier Walks into a Bar
Chapter 2 - Hot Little Firecracker
Chapter 3 - 'Til Death Do We Part
Chapter 3x - One Minute

Chapter 1 - A Courier Walks into a Bar

Red tinged the skies as the last vestiges of the sun's light seeped into the horizon. The city of Canterlot responded in kind, the streets having lost their vibrant life as ponies retired home for the night. Windows alight, the buildings of the city seemed to glint from afar—a vision befitting the capital of Equestria.

At least, I thought so.

As an international pegasus courier stationed across the ocean east of Equestria, I've seen many wonders in distant lands: high-rising draconic spires, the mist-graced vales of griffonkind, and ancient ruins from civilizations unknown. Regardless, I admit I've always marveled at the simple majesty of Canterlot. Born and raised in nearby Cloudsdale, I came to appreciate a city at sky-level that did not depend on clouds. The fact that my latest route took me back into my homeland of Equestria was a pleasant surprise.

As I soared through the darkening skies toward Canterlot, I kept checking my saddlebags, pausing in mid-air and tightening the straps with my teeth. Thinking back, I suppose it sounds silly, but I only had to lose one package to fall into that habit.

Whatever I was delivering, it was particularly heavy for its size. I had asked my dispatch officer why they didn't bother transporting it in a load of other deliveries for convenience's sake, but a hushed word and subtle nod confirmed it for me; this was priority mail, and they needed somepony to fire it over to Canterlot posthaste.

Reaching back to secure the clasp on my saddlebags once more, I began my descent into the city. I scanned the outskirts for the nearest guard outpost before remembering that ponies don't ordinarily carry such rigid customs.

Enough time flying for a strict griffon-based delivery service will harden your expectations.

Touching down on a deserted cobblestone road, I unbuckled one of my bags and retrieved a simple street map, scanning it for the delivery address. It didn't take long; Canterlot's building planners took care to organize streets and districts by theme, it seemed. Searching for Iris Circle is easy when it's nestled between streets like Orchid Avenue and Lily Way.

As I tucked the map back into my satchel, a distant clock tower began to chime, marking the start of the evening—and the end of the delivery day. Not wanting to wait until tomorrow, I shot into the air and whistled toward my destination.

I landed in front of the building, slipped off my saddlebags, and tapped my hoof against the door. While catching my breath, I noticed Iris Circle did not look as flowery as advertised. The elegant architecture expected of Canterlot was absent; in its place stood structures of dull, cracked brick and a spartan sense of décor—the mark of the city's industrial district.

“Your business?” called a mare's muffled voice on the other side of the door.

I pulled out two small yet heavy boxes from each side of my bags, setting them on the doorstep. “Package delivery for . . .” I trailed off, squinting at the scuffed package label. “Sorry. I can't read the name.”

“That's fine. Leave it by the door.”

“Can't do that, miss,” I replied. “I need a signature.”

Silence. I rifled through my goods for a clipboard and quill. Just as I retrieved them, a magical aura took hold, yanking them from my mouth. The uninked quill scratched an unintelligible scrawl onto my delivery sheet before they slid themselves back into my satchel.

“Further business?” inquired the voice.

I warily pushed the two boxes closer to the door. “I suppose that's all, miss.”

Nothing else was spoken. The curt exchange wasn't so bad. Ponies that drag you into lengthy conversations were far worse, I reasoned.

Delivery more or less done, there was only one thing left to do: burn time until morning. And as far as I was concerned, there was one best way to do it.

I tapped the counter. “Another beer.”

The bartender withdrew my mug and cracked open another bottle. Just as he tipped it into the glass, I raised a hoof, prompting him to stop.

“Just leave the bottle,” I muttered.

Setting it down gently, he leaned against the counter with both forelegs, peering at me warily. “Ain't seen you around here before, pal.”

I lazily looked around the bar. Faint neon signs flickered erratically, casting sickly light against the room's age-worn wood paneling. Anything untouched by their glow remained dark, the murk matching the bar's odd, musty odor. Deep grooves lined the counter's surface, and most of the stools—at least the ones I could see—stood uneven.

No, I certainly didn't frequent holes like this.

“Just need a place to kill time,” I replied.

The bartender raised his hooves innocently, taking a step back. He didn't say anything, instead slowly turning around and continuing his work.

As I took a long sip, the bar's front door creaked open. A unicorn mare with an aquamarine coat stepped inside, brushing her mane with a hoof before taking a seat two stools away from me. Her lyre cutie mark caught the neon light from the wall.

“What'll it be, lady?”

The mare shot a brief look in my direction and shrugged. “Give me whatever he's having.”

“A dark lager for you too, then.” The bartender slid over to grab another bottle.

I threw a half-hearted nod toward her. She responded with a peculiar stare, eyeing me up and down.

“Something I can help you with, Miss Lyre?” I asked.

Upon hearing mention of her cutie mark, she softened; her jaunty countenance melted into a calm smile. “Just Lyra will do.”

The bartender set a bottle in front of her, but she continued tracing my body with her eyes. At last, she turned her head toward her drink with a short “hm,” giving it a quick taste.

I followed suit, and silent seconds stretched into silent minutes, each of us slowly nursing our bottles.

Her attention elsewhere, Lyra focused on the far wall, looking intently at some invisible point while taking periodic sips. Her smile had faded, and she was seemingly lost in thought; every so often, her horn glowed with faint magic, as if she was imagining some spell.

I gave her a cursory glance. Her bright coat and slender, lithe figure seemed to brighten the dreary pub—or at least make the experience more palatable.

At last, she turned toward me, holding her bottle and scrunching her eyes at the label. “What are we drinking, anyway?”

“It's just an old griffon-made lager.”

“It kinda sucks.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess it's an acquired taste.”

Glancing up toward me, she shrugged. “Whatever turns you on. Cheers, then.” She held her bottle up and tilted it in my direction.

I tapped her bottle with mine. “Cheers, Lyra.”

We both took generous sips. Almost right after swallowing, she spoke once more. “So . . . gonna tell me your name?”

“Liltwhisper. Or, just Lilt, really.”

“Liltwhisper?” Lyra furrowed her brow. “That's . . . delicate. You don't look like a Liltwhisper. Anyway, isn't that more of a filly's name?”

I turned red and waved my hoof in dismissal. “Really, just Lilt is fine!”

She traced my body with her eyes once more. “Hm. Tell me, Lilt. What's a pegasus stud like you doing in Canterlot? You live around here?”

I took a quick swig before answering, letting her flattery slide off casually. “Afraid not. I actually don't live in Equestria. Just here on business.”

Her eyes wide, Lyra leaned forward. “Really, now? What business?”

“Ah, it's nothing exotic or anything. I'm a courier for a griffon-based delivery company, way east of Equestria. I'm flying back tomorrow.”

Her alert posture relaxed a bit, but her eyes stayed focused on mine. “That's too bad. Just one night in town, then? Why not spend it with friends?”

I shrugged. “None in these parts. Not that I'm chummy with the griffons back east, either.”

Lyra closed her eyes for a few seconds. A stray spark or two jumped from her horn as she curled her mouth into a devilish smile. At last, she opened her eyes. “Then tonight, I'll be your friend.” She slid her bottle over, then switched to the stool next to me. “We'll have fun together, you and me . . . Lilt.” She lightly touched my foreleg.

My heart jumped. As Lyra's hoof grazed mine, my mind spun for a reasonable reaction. After translating all the fluttering emotions rushing through me, I defaulted to taking another sip. I reached for my bottle, but she lunged for it first and pulled it toward her.

“Hmm! Not so fast . . .” she said, bringing my bottle up to her mouth. With a sultry look, she delicately licked the top of the bottle, running the tip of her tongue along its rim before passing it over to me. “Now you can drink,” she said, softly biting her lip.

“Hey, look, I think I'm getting the wrong idea here . . .”

“Oh, you're definitely getting the right idea,” she said, placing her hoof on my hind leg and rubbing it slowly. As she moved closer to my flank, my muscles grew tense. “You have shitty taste in beer,” she added, “but you're really cute.”

Idly leaning against the far wall, the bartender smirked.

“H-okay, let's take it easy,” I said, nervously jumping off my stool. “I've, uh, gotta hit the restroom real quick.”

Lyra blushed slightly. “I'll be right here, stud.”

With a jittery wave, I bid her temporary farewell and made awkward steps toward the back of the bar, slipping into the restroom. As I shut the door behind me, I took a deep breath. “Holy shit,” I whispered to myself, “this mare is insane.”

I moved up to the sink and splashed a bit of water across my face. Whatever was happening, I wasn't mentally prepared for it. Wiping grime off the mirror to get a better look, I gazed at my reflection.

“All right, Lilt,” I told myself. “A crazy hot mare is all over you. Also just crazy.” I swallowed hard and flashed a composed, if forced, grin. “Okay. I can handle this. Confidence!”

Opening the bathroom door with a firm hoof, I strolled back toward my stool and sat down with marked purpose. As I took hold of my beer, Lyra winked at me. “Why don't you give it a taste? I think you'll like the flavor now . . .” She licked her lips.

Undaunted, I took a healthy drink, all the while looking into her eyes. As I swallowed, her eyebrows seemed to lift. “That's it,” she said. “Tastes better now, right?”

“Actually, yeah,” I admitted, taking a second drink before setting the bottle down. “Much better.”

Lyra leaned off her stool, rubbing her shoulder against mine. “I'm glad,” she whispered into my ear. “Finish it.”

This brand of flirting was new to me, but I shrugged and took another few sips. As I swallowed, she reached forward to tip the bottle up, coaxing me to drink a bit more. “Keep going.”

“Hey, hey,” I said, brushing her off. “What's the rush?”

“The sooner you finish your drink, the sooner I can take you home and let you have your way with me.”

I blinked once, then immediately downed the rest of the beer. As the last of it hit my stomach, a pang of dizziness struck me, but the sensation lasted for only a second.

“That's a good boy,” she cooed, sliding the rest of her beer toward me. “Mine too. All of it.”

Without hesitation, I chugged her beer down as well. She was right; it didn't carry its usual bitter flavor. Regardless, it mattered little to me. The only thing on my mind was an image of Lyra stretched out on a bed, open, moist, and wanting.

Once the final few drops slid down my throat, I tried to set the bottle on the counter. Hazy reflexes caused me to place it on-edge, and it clattered onto its side. I picked it back up, sloppily aligning the bottle with both forehooves to keep it standing.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Lyra giggle. “What's wrong, stud? Was that a little too much drink for you?”

I thought for a moment, trying to formulate the right words. “No, I . . . no, it wasn't.” My sight grew cloudy; I rubbed my eyes in a vain effort to expunge the blurriness. “It was just . . . a couple beers . . . that's all.”

Lyra stood up from her stool and took hold of my foreleg, gently tugging. “Then let's go. I wanna have some fun. I'm ready for it . . .”

I turned to face her, but a sudden dizzy spell forced me to stop and clutch the counter. “S-Sure. Just give me . . . a second,” I said slowly. As I stood up, a rush of heat turned my cheeks flush, and the bar's walls appeared to spin. Despite the sensation, my glossy vision made me feel somewhat disconnected from everything that was happening.

“Look, lady,” said the bartender. “Do me a favor and get this guy out of here before he loses it. This place has seen enough puke.”

Look lady. Loses it. Enough puke. His voice flatly reverberated in my head, the dull echo of his speech washing over my consciousness several times before I could understand just what he was saying. I wanted to respond, but it felt so much easier not to speak. Glancing downward, I noticed the bar's floorboards looked quite comfortable and inviting at the moment. With a soft hum to myself, I slumped down and shut my heavy eyelids.

“. . . now let's make sure you're in there nice and tight.”

As I gradually regained consciousness, I felt something pull against my legs.

“Yep. You're trussed up real good, Lilty.”

With prominent effort, I forced my eyes open. My mind was still sluggish and thick with confusion; it took a moment for me to realize that I was staring at the ceiling, and another moment still to understand that I was lying face-up on somepony's bed. I tried to move my legs, but each one was held in place, bound tightly to the bed frame. I swallowed roughly and felt a collar around my neck, its chain fastened to the bed frame.

Aside from the bed, the room was barren. The walls' unadorned, age-yellowed brick did little to calm me. A single bulb hanging from above offered scant, pale light; otherwise, the room was dim and windowless. There was no sign of my saddlebags. Although my sight was still somewhat off, it was keen enough to recognize the mare standing nearby: the one from the bar.

Lyra, a wicked grin plastered across her face, sauntered up to the side of the bed next to me. “And you're awake.” Her grin faded as she brought a hoof up to my face, lightly grazing it as she traced my chin. “I caught a real winner tonight. Did you like what I slipped into your drink?”

“What the fuck is this?” I exclaimed. “What are you—mmmph—”

Lyra wrapped a thick cloth over my mouth, winding it around my head several times before tying it from behind. She shot a coy glance to the side, remarking, “Oh, I guess I lied. I'll be having my way with you instead.” She leaned into my ear and added, “Much more fun that way.”

With a quick hop onto the bed, Lyra straddled my body. I muffled complaint, but a sharp tug on the collar around my neck silenced me. “Listen, sweetie,” she said softly. “Don't try to move. Just lie there and take it.”

Unable to act, I watched helplessly as Lyra snaked further up my body and stared deeply into my eyes. Barely an inch stood between our faces, and I could feel the heat of her breath while she hovered above me. As she held her piercing gaze, her mouth gradually curled into a smile. ”I've been wanting this for a long time,” she whispered, half-moaning. “I'm cutting this one real close.”

She slid off my body and cantered to a nearby door. “You just wait right there while I fetch my toys, okay?”

Chapter 2 - Hot Little Firecracker

“Lilt, be polite and say hello to my friends.”

The shrill squeak of unoiled wheels cut the air as Lyra made her ceremonious return, rolling a cart into the room and setting it parallel to the bed. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see a mess of wires and other assorted gadgets atop the cart.

Unable to talk behind my cloth gag, I narrowed my eyes at her. She patted my head gently. “There, there,” she murmured. “Don't be nervous. I'll be gentle. The last thing I want to do is hurt that body of yours. Especially those wings . . .” She caressed my face gently, bringing her hoof to my lips before whispering, “I can't wait to fly.”

I blinked at her, confused. With a moan, I pulled on my chain bindings, rocking the bed, trying to wriggle free. Watching with an odd gleam in her eye, Lyra crossed her hooves, seemingly savoring her prey's futile attempts to escape. As she admired my body in silence, I slowly accepted the possibility that this wasn't turning into a wild sexual escapade.

Lyra hummed to herself as she rifled through the pile of equipment. I craned my head to get a better look, but the chain-bound collar around my neck made it impossible to see much. She plucked a single wire from the cart, dangling it in front of my face. At its end was a metallic, bit-sized node; Lyra attached it to my chest. The flat side of the node was cold and sticky—it latched on with a sickly tak.

I squirmed in place, twisting my body away from her touch. Despite my reaction, Lyra continued her work calmly and happily, sticking nodes across my entire body.

Tak tak. “Don't be so nervous, Lilt. It's just a little magical fun. For me, at least.”

Tak tak. “Delivering packages is boring, though. I'm gonna have to find a new job for you. Stunt flyer sounds good. Maybe a new name, too.”

Tak tak. “Hmm, I guess I should put one there, too. Oh, don't be shy, now . . .”

With my body covered, Lyra stepped back, surveying her work. Satisfied, she bent down to connect the ends of each wire to a small device at the foot of the bed. “Now, bear with me. I'm new to the whole ‘unicorn’ thing.” She stood back up. “Ready to die?”

My eyes shot wide open. Confusion gave way to panic as she slowly crept closer to me. I recoiled as far back as my bindings allowed, but Lyra simply giggled. “Come on. It probably won't hurt for long. Any last words?” With a smart grin, she peeled back the gag to allow me to speak.

“Get me out of here, you crazy bitch!” I spat. “I swear if you do any—”

Replacing the gag, Lyra laughed heartily. “Such a temper. Our pegasus volunteer is ungrateful, if not feisty,” she said to no one in particular. She took several steps back, retreating to the far wall. “Nice knowing you, Lilty.”

Her horn glowed with a subtle glimmer; Lyra's eyes glossed over while she concentrated. Stray tendrils of light rippled across each wire, sending individual shocks pulsing through my body.

Her magical aura soon enveloped both our bodies. My back arched upward, an electric current locking my muscles in place. I screamed as loudly as I could behind my gag, but even at the peak of my bloodshot yell, I noticed something strange.

Lyra, too, was screaming.

She clutched her head with both forelegs, leaning against the wall. Bolts of erratic energy shot out from her horn, striking the walls, the ceiling, everything. Even with her eyes shut in agony, a piercing white glow permeated her eyelids. With one final shriek, she unleashed a thunderous, explosive blast that consumed the room—and my consciousness.

. . . hey . . .

Get . . . you stupid . . .

. . . awake already . . . up!

The grit I felt against my side told me I was collapsed on the floor. My eyelids fluttered open slowly, but there was little to see. The air was thick with smoke; I coughed several times, struggling to breathe, and realized I was still gagged. As the weight of my situation sunk in, I snapped to my senses and scrambled to my hooves.

The room was on fire. Segments of brick wall were torn asunder, fire spreading between the underlying wooden support beams. Patches of floor were alive with dancing flame.

I checked my legs. They were no longer strapped to the bed—my former bindings lay broken nearby. A few strips of chain and wire still clung onto my body, and I used a hurried hoof to brush off what I could before ripping off my gag. I was dripping in sweat, and much of my coat was covered in dirt or soot. In the middle of my self-inspection, an ethereal voice interrupted me.

Quit feeling yourself up and get outta here!

Its clarity and volume startled me. I staggered backward and bumped against the nearby bed frame. The mattress had been blasted into fragments, its stuffing spilling out, but it was thankfully not burning.

Ow, hey! Get a hold of yourself, guy! We need to escape!

I recognized the voice. “Lyra!” I called. “Where are you?” I scanned the room, eager to identify the source. In front of me was nothing but charred electrical equipment, plumes of smoke and ash, and encroaching fire. I turned around, and there she was. Only inches behind me lay Lyra's broken body, thrown by the explosion, unmoving. I shook her, but her body remained still.

Yet, her voice continued, reverberating through my head. Dammit, I messed up. She gave a quick sigh. There's no going back now. Just go!

A sudden rush of heat filled the room. I instinctively ducked as flames streaked across the ceiling. My legs buckled as I watched the blaze lick away at all four walls. Nearby, Lyra's prone, lifeless body caught my attention once more. “What did you do? Lyra, you're not—”

Fuck this! You're not listening! Lilt. Get. Moving. Now!

I grimaced and ran for the door. I took perhaps two or three steps when my body violently snapped backward.

“Huuuuurk!”

I collapsed to the floor in a tangle of legs as my throat was choked by my collar, its chain still attached to the bed frame. I grasped my neck, breathing in raspy heaves, while a snarky chuckle echoed through my mind. I wasn't completely free yet.

My legs shakily propped me back up. I tugged at the chain, but it was fastened securely to the frame, which in turn was bolted to the floor. “Th-The collar,” I sputtered. “Unlock it! Please!”

Idiot! There's no lock. It's an ensorcelled collar, magically affixed to your neck.

“Then break the spell!”

I can't perform magic right now. Just break it with your hooves!

I didn't have time to argue. I stepped closer to the bed frame to give myself some slack on the chain, then repeatedly stomped on it. A third strike shattered the link. A small length of chain now hung from my neck, but I was free.

I didn't wait for Lyra's chiding voice to prod me forward. I sprinted toward the door but stopped short—smoke issued forth from the bottom crack in dense billows.

“Lyra, this way's no good! Now what?” My eyes darted about the room, but nothing else seemed promising. No windows. No other doors. Even the bed was now engulfed in flame, embers having dripped from the burning ceiling.

Hm. Well, I guess it's too late. We're dead. She was suddenly measured and calm, but I tasted a hint of venom in her voice.

I scurried to the opposite wall where there was the least fire, huddling down and watching the walls and ceiling nervously. I stirred up a gust with my wings in desperation, but the blackened air did not yield. Despite the intense heat, I shivered. “L-Lyra,” I whispered, planning to follow up with a plea for help, but my pride kept me in check.

The next minute passed in a nebulous blur, a feverish moment that seemed to pass both slowly and quickly; I was losing my sense of time. I was already trapped, but as the flames edged closer, I felt my chances of survival melting away.

You want to live, don't you, Lilty?

I could still hear her clearly over the fire's roaring din. “Yes, dammit, yes! Get me out!”

I can save us both, you know. Just give me control of your body.

“What? I don't understand!”

I'm inside your body, Lilt. All you have to do is relax and surrender yourself to me. Let me take the reins, so to speak. Do that, and I'll guide us out of here.

“You just tried to kill me. You wired me up like some lab subject. You're the last pony I can trust,” I challenged.

There was a short pause, and then Lyra continued. If you die, I die. Naturally, I don't want that to happen. There's your guarantee. Besides, I'd hate for anything to happen to that sexy body of yours . . .

Flakes of charred material showered the room as the ceiling began to deteriorate. I felt my heart pounding. “It doesn't matter anyway. I don't know how.”

Oh, Lilt. That's the easy part. All you have to do is be a good boy, don't resist, and let me have my way!

As her voice shot through my mind, I felt an involuntary jolt in my hind legs, and I took a sudden step forward, nearly diving into the spreading fire. The movement felt mechanical and foreign; almost immediately I hopped back and took an aggressive stance. “N-No!” I cried out, shaking myself. “Get out of my body! Out!”

Lyra cackled loudly but said nothing.

Time was running out, and it was up to me—I needed to act. The ceiling looked ready to collapse, its scorched surface peeling away. I narrowed my eyes; this was my moment. All or nothing. Holding my breath, I flared my wings and jumped, soaring straight toward the burning ceiling.

Stop! Are you insane—

Lyra's voice broke away as my body slammed against the top of the room. The impact rattled me, but I managed to tear a hole between floors; my head now poked out through the wooden floorboards of a new room filled with furniture. It looked like somepony else's home. I hastily wriggled upward, exhaling sharply as I tumbled out of the newly torn gap.

My hind legs were a bit singed by the ceiling's fire, but I was otherwise intact. My vision was slightly blurry, shaken by a sudden headache. Although the fire had already crept into most of this room, it was noticeably easier to breathe.

Fuck, that hurts! What part of you thought broiling and mangling us was a good idea?

“Don't act like you're a part of me,” I muttered, cradling my throbbing head with both hooves.

Look, whether you like it or—

“Shut up!” I yelled, but I immediately regretted the force with which I screamed; my entire body ached.

Whether due to my command or the pain that we apparently shared, Lyra fell silent. I slowly stood up straight and noticed a single window in the corner. My legs battered by my reckless stunt, I hovered a short distance off the floor and glided toward it. The chain hanging off my collar dragged along the wooden boards, but I paid it no mind.

I expected a smart remark but heard nothing as I carefully climbed through the window and escaped into the early-morning sky. Canterlot's clock tower seemed to announce my freedom with five strikes of the bell. After a few seconds of fresh-air flight, I looked back down.

“Oh, Celestia,” I whispered, wide-eyed.

Fire lanced out from the roof of the building. The cancerous blaze had already blackened or consumed several areas. Whatever fiery explosion Lyra triggered had cut a large swath of destruction that threatened to spread further.

Well, that's a shame.

Her flippant attitude jarred me, but as I thought of my retort, my mind instead wandered back to that first room. The image of Lyra's lifeless body had burned itself into my memory. The way she spoke to me . . .

Something was not right with that pony. She seemed to know what was going on; in fact, she seemed strangely comfortable with it.

I closed my eyes for a moment and asked, “Just what were you doing to me?”

Playing doctor. Did you have fun?

“Don't dodge the question. Tell me what you were doing!”

Oh, don't be sour, Lilty. You're still alive! I am too, more or less.

I trembled in anger and swung a hoof into the air, a swipe aimed at nothing. “Answer me, dammit!”

Lyra let out a gleeful laugh. What's the matter? Frustrated 'cause you can't see or touch me? I bet there are a lot of things you'd like to do to me right now. Too bad you can't!

I grit my teeth. “I can. If I hurt myself, it hurts you too.”

It sure does. Why don't you bang your head against the pavement down there? I'd really hate that. She giggled once more.

I gave up. The fact that Lyra was untouchable inside my body made her insufferable. Her presence felt like an infection, as if she was some parasite. Just thinking about it made me nauseous. I flew up high, as far as the skies would allow a pegasus, and landed on a distant cloud to recover my wits. To my relief, Lyra remained quiet.

Several minutes passed while I lay on my back, unmoving, my exhausted mind blank as my eyes glazed over. My body was spent—it yearned for rest—but sleep would not come. I mentally urged myself to move, to fly away from this place, to find somepony who could help, anything . . . but my willpower had run out. Instead, I stared at the stars, mindlessly tracing constellations. After what felt like ages, feverish thoughts spun throughout my half-awake consciousness. In my delirious state, I couldn't discern whose thoughts they truly were.

What was happening to me?

Sirens in the distance broke my stupor. I flipped around and leaned over the cloud's edge, gazing at the building far below.

Acrid smoke poured out from its windows. Dozens of ponies had assembled outside, watching it—and their homes within—burn. A team of firefighters had arrived to battle the blaze, some shooting water from hoses on the ground, others dousing flames with rain clouds from above.

I, for my part, took care to remain out of their line of sight. Although I had been helpless, I felt a strange guilt, despite having been a victim myself.

Technically, a part of me was actually guilty, after all. And she was being surprisingly taciturn while I watched the commotion down below, my eyes saddened and grim. Until . . .

Oh, lighten up. You should be grateful. That fire solved a lot of problems for us . . .

As her voice trailed off, I watched a few pegasi jet across the skies in search of more clouds. “You're sick. Deranged. How can you twist this disaster into an advantage?”

They'll do a lovely investigation. Someone will find my body and assume the fire caused my death. They might think I was into some kinky shit when they see what's left of the bedroom . . . but, hey, we'll be in the clear.

I restrained myself from questioning her bogus logic, instead taking a deep breath to compose myself. “All right, sure.” I said calmly. “At least tell me how we can get back to normal.”

Lyra hummed to herself. Eh, no can do, Lilty. My body's in ashes. We're life partners now. She paused for a moment. Wanna get hitched?

I couldn't understand how she could be so nonchalant about this. “Why don't you care about what's happening? Why aren't you scared?”

Aw, that's easy. I've done this before.

“What?!” My wings suddenly fluttered, and I tumbled a short distance off the cloud before righting myself. “That sickening experiment . . . entering my body . . . this was your intention from the start?”

Well, if you figured that out, I suppose I don't need to explain further. She gave a fake, overt yawn. Night, Lilty.

“Hey!” I threw my hooves in the air. “Don't pretend to go to sleep! I'm not stupid!”

But she didn't respond. I sighed and looked down toward the city. Thankfully, the fire seemed under control. I wasn't able to tell if anypony was hurt, but I couldn't afford to fly down and help in my state.

Waiting for Lyra would accomplish nothing. I had to clean myself up and find help.

Several hours later, shortly before noon, I found myself embroiled in an argument.

“What do you mean you can't get it off?” I complained.

The dispassionate unicorn over the counter replied, “Just that. It ain't coming off. Not by me, at least.”

I rubbed my temples and groaned. My freshly-washed coat and mane made me look somewhat presentable, but the shackle and chain around my neck certainly drew attention. Unfortunately, every locksmith and artificer in Canterlot seemed unable to remove it. The shop I was in seemed to be my last chance.

Despite the wide array of enchanted goods and magical artifacts he had on display, the artificer proved useless. His horn sparked erratically when he attempted to manipulate the collar.

“Please. I've been all over the city. What are you proposing, I just leave this thing hanging from my neck?”

The artificer shrugged. “Look, friend, there's no lock, no hinge . . . and the material is too tough for my tools to break. Besides that, it's got a pretty complex charm on it that I can't dispel.”

I held up the end of the chain. “Then at least cut the rest of this off. I already broke part of it with my hooves.”

He shook his head, tutting, then pointed to the last few links. “I can see that. The links are nothing special. But the charm on the shackle affects the chain too. You must have broken it just outside the spell's range of influence.”

For a lyre-playing pony, Lyra was apparently quite proficient in magic. “All right, all right.” I began hovering back and forth, holding the end of the chain in my hooves as I impatiently paced across the artificer's shop. “Then what should I do?”

“Something as tough as this . . . you've gotta find the unicorn who put it on you.”

I stopped moving. “And what if that's not an option?”

He shrugged once more. “Beats me. Leave it on.” His mouth curled halfway into a smirk. “I hear some mares are into this kind of thing.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Whatever. Thanks for nothing.” He waved a dismissive hoof as I left his store.

Only seconds after I took to the air, Lyra's singsong voice cut in. Well, I, for one, think it looks hot.

I had enough. I ignored her and soared higher, making my way over the Canterlot spire and toward the ocean. It would be a long, annoying trip, but my mind was set.

Hey, hey! Where the hell are you going?

Her voice took on a jittery, nervous quality. I planned to take full advantage. “Leaving Equestria. Going back home. What's it to you?” I picked up speed.

W-Wait, hold it! We can't leave the city. I've got—

This time, it was my turn to laugh. I offered a short chuckle and continued flight, ignoring her pleas.

C'mon, Lilt! This time I'm serious.

No, really, I'm not joking around anymore. We've gotta go back.

Okay, fine! I'll explain, just stop moving for a minute!

I couldn't hide my sudden grin. A strange sense of satisfaction washed over me; for once, I felt I had an advantage. Slowing down, I landed on a nearby cloud, reclining with my hind legs crossed. “All right. Go on, then.”

Lyra took a deep breath. Look, I know I've been kinda mean. That's just how I am. I'm sorry.

“If you're trying to get me to sympathize, don't bother. That ship has sailed.”

No, it's fine. The truth is, there is a way I can leave your body.

I leaned forward. She hesitated.

We have maybe sixteen hours left . . . for you to find another victim.

Chapter 3 - 'Til Death Do We Part

“Absolutely not!” I said through clenched teeth.

Listen, jackass. Around twenty hours after I switch bodies, that's it. I won't be able to leave you without killing you.

My heart sank. I couldn't think of a response.

This all started maybe around four in the morning. That leaves us until midnight for me to find someone else. And let me be honest; I'm already sick of you, Lilt.

I let her words sink into me before replying. “There must be another way. I can't do this to somepony else. There must be a unicorn in Canterlot that knows something about this.”

You couldn't get a simple collar off, yet you think you can find someone to deal with two souls in one body?

“This is too much,” I said, taking in a shuddering breath. “I can't handle this.”

Relax, will you? I've already done the work. I had another mark lined up in case you didn't work out.

I shook my head in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

Nope. She'll be a piece of cake, too. She's an old friend. Real gullible. I know just how to handle her. She'll be all ours. Or, mine, I guess.

“You're going to victimize one of your own friends?!”

Well, the ones that trust you are the easiest targets. Right? Besides, she'll probably want me inside her anyway.

I cocked my head for a moment trying to digest just what she had said, then begrudgingly turned toward Canterlot.

'Atta boy. You'll see. I've got a good angle we can work.

Lyra fell largely silent during my flight back to the city, only offering scant words to point me in the right direction. As I flew, my mind wandered. At first, I was consumed by frustration; if I passed Lyra off on somepony else, I'd be no worse than her. I wouldn't do this to another pony . . .

However, I hoped her friend could at least explain what's going on. Lyra's suggestion couldn't be our only option. All I had to do was play along and learn what I could.

As I settled on this plan, my insides stirred with anxiety; no matter what I did or where I went, Lyra would be watching. Hearing. Feeling. There were no secrets, save those in my own thoughts.

My rumination was interrupted by Lyra's stern voice. Left. Go left. Yeah, right into this plaza.

No, no. Yes, that one. Down this street.

Third building on the left.

I landed right in front of a delicatessen. Bright, sunny skies brought several ponies outside to eat; most tables were full. “Your friend lives in a sandwich shop. Really?”

No, stupid. You're here to eat.

“We have less than a day, and you want to have a snack?!” I yelled. I suddenly cowered; a few discerning unicorns turned their heads at my strange outburst.

Relax, guy. Look. When was the last time you ate?

The last twenty-four hours flashed through my mind in reverse. The building fire, Lyra's messed up spell, a couple drinks at the bar, a hasty delivery to Iris Circle, a long flight across the ocean to Equestria . . .

It had been over a day. Why didn't I feel that hungry?

Do yourself—and me—a favor. Take a couple minutes and down some lunch or something. You won't have the strength to keep this up all day otherwise.

I frowned but slowly stepped up to a table and sat down. It didn't take long for a waiter to notice.

“Hello, sir—”

“Daffodil sandwich, please. Nothing else.” I wasted no time.

The waiter flinched. He eyed my collar chain before responding with measured words. “Very well. One moment, sir.”

As he went inside, Lyra sighed. Only in Canterlot.

“Pardon?”

This place. All upscale and fancy, but all they do is stuff some flowers between bread.

“You have a problem with flower sandwiches?” I asked.

And did you see the way he looked at you? Arrogant unicorns . . .

“I have a heavy chain hanging off my neck. I'm surprised I'm getting service.” Leaning back in my chair, I tried to peer into the building. “Heck, he's probably calling the police, for all I know.”

Lyra didn't respond. During her silence, I realized I wasn't particularly interested in a flower sandwich either; I had simply ordered it out of habit. In fact, at that moment, the idea was downright unappetizing. Instead, I had an odd craving for a warm, hot meal.

The waiter returned quickly but ceremoniously, an ornate tray suspended by magic as he trotted up to my table. “Your lunch, sir,” he kindly spoke as he set the tray down. He inspected me once more before adding, “Please enjoy.”

I half-heartedly smiled, waiting for him to leave, then gingerly bit into my sandwich. It tasted better than I had anticipated, and I picked up the pace.

Well, I guess it's not bad, really.

“So, what,” I said between swallows, “you prefer hay? Or did you live on cupcakes or something?”

We all have our preferences.

It didn't take much longer to finish. Moments after sitting back, satisfied, I screwed my face up in panic and patted my bare back several times.

“My saddlebags!” I harshly whispered. “I don't have any bits!”

Lyra burst into laughter. Lilty, Lilty. Your stuff's long gone.

“But how will I pay the bill?”

Oh, grow some figs, will you? I think the technical term is ‘chew and screw.’ Just fly outta here.

I hunkered down, trying not to arouse suspicion or draw attention. “I can't do that,” I whispered. “I'm not that kind of pony.”

Today's a day of firsts for you, Lilt.

I couldn't understand. I delivered packages professionally—my saddlebags were my livelihood. I incessantly checked them every few minutes; how could I have gone half a day without sparing them a thought?

Whatever excuse you're cooking up, get ready to serve.

The waiter approached, gently placing the check on the table. “Whenever you're ready, sir,” he said, but he didn't budge.

“Ah, I'm afraid I've . . . forgotten something,” I began. The waiter narrowed his eyes at me until I followed up with, “Another sandwich. Please. Quite famished, I am.” I shot him a wide, toothy grin.

Bahahaha! What a lame excuse!

The waiter looked down at me, pursing his lips. After some hesitation, I heard a calm “Very well.” He withdrew the check and trotted back into the building. As soon as he was out of sight, I fired into the air, soaring into the clouds as fast as I could.

See? Easy cakes. Maybe we should stick together after all; we make a pretty good team.

I swung back down and landed in a secluded alleyway, catching my breath. Flight was noticeably more difficult with a chain weighing me down from the neck. “No,” I managed between hurried breaths, “that wasn't right. But I can't worry about this now. Let's just get this done.”

Oh, now I'm slighted, Lilt. I'm a good influence, you know. You'd do well to keep me around.

“Please, spare me. Just introduce me to your friend.”

Thankfully, she was happy to oblige. Directing me back into the skies, she led me toward the other end of the city.

It's not too far, now. Flying's pretty fun, you know. I like it. You keep nice and level.

Okay. No, not this street. The next one, just past Lily Way. Yep, Iris. Turn right.

It's on the right somewhere here. Yeah, that building there.

And there it was. The same building I had delivered to last evening. I cleared my throat. “Why is her home in the industrial district?”

Rent's cheap, I guess. What do you care?

I didn't respond, gliding silently to the door and giving it a gentle knock. After a moment, I heard hoofsteps from within. “Your business?” called a familiar listless voice.

Well? Go on, goaded Lyra. I gave an exaggerated shrug and shook my head. Right, okay. Ask for Octavia. That's her name.

“Uh, hi. Yes. Is there an Octavia I can speak with?”

The voice maintained its droll, monotonic hum. “Concerning?”

Tell her it's about me. That'll get you inside.

“I'm here to talk about Lyra.”

A short pause, and then, “I'm sorry. I don't play the lyre.”

I took a step closer, talking right into the door. “No, I mean the pony named Lyra.”

“You have me confused with someone else.”

Oh, for the love of . . . just tell her I'm dead, already.

I frowned. “Lyra has . . . look, Lyra needs your help. She's in trouble. You two are friends, right?”

That's a diplomatic way of putting it.

“. . . who are you?” she asked.

You're being a real champ about this so far, Lilt. Now just tell her you're studying my case and need her help.

All of a sudden, I felt as if I was in over my head. I wondered how much this Octavia knew about her. “I just want to ask you a couple questions about her case. Please. I don't have much time.”

No response. Ten seconds passed in silence. Fuck it. Break the door down—

But the door slowly creaked open. Standing a few steps back was a charcoal gray earth pony, her jet-black mane hardly visible in the darkness within. She wore a deadpan expression; I supposed her half-lidded eyes belied her concern. Before I thought of anything to say, she tossed her head back, nodding me inside.

Her home was grimly lit. Windows were shut and shrouded; only a few burning candles strewn about kept me from walking into anything. I could only make out shadows where I supposed furniture would be. She led me down a hallway and into her study.

Aside from a generous set of bookcases lining the walls, the room was sparsely decorated. A small couch stood in front of a clean, empty fireplace. On the other side of the room was a stately, well-maintained desk of mahogany, a matching Victorian chair neatly tucked in. No candles were lit here; a single window in the corner provided light. Octavia waved toward the couch. “Please, sit. It's good that you came.”

My body issued a subtle tremble; I wasn't used to pulling stunts like this. I hoped she did not notice and settled into the couch.

Well, it's your show now. I vote for lulling her into a false sense of security, then bucking her face in. I'll handle the rest when the time comes.

I bit my lip at her comment, restraining the urge to roll my eyes. Octavia gingerly sat on the other end of the couch. She gave me a plain look. “You have a shackle around your neck.”

A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. “Well, that's kinda why I'm here.”

“E-Excuse me?” A slight blush graced Octavia's cheeks.

“No, no! Not like that. Look, it has to do with Lyra.”

After a long sigh, she gave a listless nod. “I see. Is she all right?”

“Well, it's not easy to explain. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me about her.”

“There's not much to tell from my end.” Octavia's eyes darted about the room, finally settling on the fireplace mantle. She stared at the pictures atop the mantle while she spoke. “Lyra was one of my best friends. The three of us used to hang out all the time.”

“Three of you?”

I heard a quiet giggle from Lyra.

“Yes. Lyra, Bon Bon, and I. We were quite close until a few months ago.”

“What happened?”

Octavia stood up and walked over to the desk. She pulled open a drawer and retrieved a small leaflet. “This.” She passed it over to me. “Do you recognize it?”

The large, bold text along the top caught my eye. I read it aloud. “Come discover a new way of life.” Underneath was an ornately drawn sketch of two unicorns facing each other in perfect symmetry, a magical beam of light connecting their horns. The text continued below. “Learn the spell that will reveal your true self.”

Octavia looked down. “Bon Bon tried to convince Lyra and me to try this. A magical seminar.”

I studied the leaflet more carefully. “Seminar? There's no time or place listed here.”

“Right. It was by invitation only.” Octavia glanced at the leaflet and shivered. “You understand what that means.”

I shook my head.

“Forbidden magic.” She pointed at the unicorn sketch. “Lyra joined her to perform that spell. The two of them went to that seminar.”

I waited, but she did not continue. “Then what?”

Octavia's voice fell somber. “Then . . . that's it. Bon Bon went missing after that day, and Lyra started avoiding me, keeping to herself. That was months ago.”

“I don't understand,” I said, standing up. “You just left it at that?”

She grimaced. “Of course not. I looked into all this stuff privately. It was some kind of cult. The little information I found talked about bodies and souls. Dark rituals and the like. Everything they did was behind closed doors.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It was unnatural.”

I paced to the fireplace, holding my head low and thinking carefully. “So it was this Bon Bon unicorn that pulled her into this, wasn't it?” I posed the question carefully, hoping either Lyra or Octavia would answer.

A gentle hoof touched my shoulder. I turned around; Octavia wore a tired, confused face. “That's the mystery,” she continued. “Bon Bon was an earth pony. Why she would be interested in magic, and so suddenly, is beyond me.” She pointed toward a picture on the fireplace mantle.

I glanced at her image—a cream-colored mare with a curled mane and tail of light lavender and blue. “Was?” I asked.

“Like I said, she's been missing for a long time. No one has any evidence, and this cult is impossible to find. I'm not even sure it truly exists.”

The conversation entered a lull. For once, I hoped Lyra would interject and confirm her story, but she kept quiet. Octavia trudged over to the desk, her eyes forlorn and downcast. At last, she spoke once more. “I'm sorry. I'm being too forward with all this. I don't mean to burden you with so much at once.” She looked up. “I just finished brewing tea. Would you like some?”

I had no room to refuse. “Yes, please.”

She offered a curt nod and left the room. As I patiently waited, I was drawn to the row of pictures on the mantle. Their frames were dusty, but each pane of glass had been partially wiped clean somewhat recently. I checked each photograph.

Octavia running across a grassy field as a laughing Lyra gives chase, both little fillies.

Young Lyra and Bon Bon giggling over a comic book, with Octavia reading peacefully alone in the background.

A teenaged Octavia wearing a robe, a flattened cap, and a rare smile at some sort of graduation ceremony.

Lyra and Bon Bon flashing cute poses at the beach.

Octavia and Bon Bon playing chess, the former holding a confident stance.

Octavia, embraced by two older ponies, standing before an eerily familiar fireplace.

A bright-faced Lyra beaming, both Octavia and Bon Bon at her sides.

As I studied each one, a strange mix of emotions welled up inside me. I sensed a vibrant warmth from each picture, but my perception was tainted by a bitter revelation; one of these ponies was inside me. I lifted the last picture and stared at its image. A cheery, innocent Lyra stared back.

Not half bad, huh? I keep forgetting how cute I am. Or was.

Checking behind me to make sure I was still alone, I whispered softly to myself. “You three used to be close friends.”

Used to be.

“You're not Lyra. Don't pretend any more. Who are you?”

Lyra's voice happily answered, her tone marked by sinful glee. Not telling!

“You're this other pony. Bon Bon.” I pointed at her picture. “You pulled Lyra into this to take over her body. You needed her magic to do it. Then, you tried doing it to me.”

Hmm. Maybe.

“Except you have Lyra's voice.”

I learn the voices of the bodies I inhabit. Now I want Octavia. And you're going to help me.

“I thought you were fine in my body.”

She knows too much. I see that now. I need to clean up my mess.

I vigorously shook my head. “No way. Not a chance. You're trapped in my body; I'm holding you here until I find a way to get rid of you without passing you on.”

Lyra's voice went low. Listen to me, asshole. Either you help me into Octavia's body by tomorrow morning, or I'm going to make your life a living hell until the day you die.

I grit my teeth. “Then we'll go to hell together—”

The clopping of hoofsteps near the doorway interrupted us. “Excuse me?”

There was Octavia. “Sorry,” I said, “just talking to myself. I should get going.” I walked toward the door.

“Do you have enough for your investigation?”

I paused. “What investigation?”

“I thought you were a detective.” Octavia shrunk low and took a wary step backward. “You . . . you are a detective, right? Isn't that why you're here?”

I was unsure how to answer. Was she expecting somepony else today? “No, I'm not. I'm a victim. One of her victims.” I unconsciously pawed at the chain around my neck.

Octavia's face twisted in confusion and fear. She opened her mouth slowly. “That chain . . .”

I took a few steps forward. “Don't worry. When I have this all figured out, I'll—”

I stopped mid-sentence. My body suddenly took a few steps back on its own.

You're not going anywhere. You're staying right here and we're gonna do this right now. I want her body.

“N-No,” I spoke softly. I struggled to take another few steps forward, but for every step I took, my body retreated two more. Octavia watched me carefully, bewildered by the sight.

Last chance, Lilty. Just do what I tell you and you'll be a free pony. Or don't, and I'll be forced to do this the hard way.

I struggled with all the effort I could muster. No matter how badly I wanted to resist, it felt as if my body was simply refusing to respond. Or, perhaps, it felt as if it wasn't my body at that moment.

The hard way it is. Let me show you what happens when you don't listen.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I took a firm stance, my legs spread as if preparing for some invisible force to tackle me. But, instead of a forceful push, a wave of tranquility washed over me, and the world felt like a dream.

Chapter 3x - One Minute

I opened his eyes. A familiar room. I was already exhausted; I only had a minute.

I stirred his legs into action, taking wobbly steps toward the window. Even subtle movements sent tingly pinpricks shooting through his body. The sensation was overwhelming, almost painful, but it didn't matter; I was walking. Breathing. Being.

The other pony in the room watched me carefully. “What's wrong with you?” she asked. “You look pale. Do you need an ambulance?”

I shook his head and responded, “I'm just fine.” His deep, gritty voice felt good. I liked it.

The shackle around his neck was constricting, the chain hanging off it heavy. I enjoyed the feeling, drawing pleasure from the way it dragged him down. I moved his hoof up to the shackle, giving it a bit of a tug. Yes, I liked this too.

Summoning whatever magical energies I could channel through a pegasus, I unlatched the lock and lifted the window open. The city's clock tower was barely visible; it pointed to 1:30 PM. I grimly nodded his head toward the other mare. Her mouth agape, she gave me a quizzical stare but remained silent.

I tested his wings, unfurling them, flapping them gently. So graceful. So powerful. How I longed to fly! I placed his right wing through the open window, letting it taste the outside air. Holding it outstretched, I took a deep breath.

And slammed the window shut, crushing his wing.