Octavia felt the temperature dip as she entered the house, her mood falling with it slightly. She knew what she was in for and even after such happy things had happened, she didn't think she was prepared for it. That she was in such a good mood made her almost less prepared, in a way, as she had a harder time keeping up the stolid expression she usually had. She closed the front door as quietly as she could, being sure to wipe her hooves off onto the mat like her mother liked. There was the sound of rushing water in the kitchen that shut off as soon as her hooves hit the carpet of the living room, and Octavia braced herself, clutching onto the strap of her bag.

"Octavia? Is that you?"

"Yes, mother," she replied reluctantly. The older mare came around the corner, her mane done up in a tight bun and gloves on her hands to protect them from whatever she was washing. She didn't seem happy that Octavia was home, and it made her wish she'd never come home.

"Where have you been? It doesn't take you this long to walk home, you know that," her mother snapped, pulling off the gloves. Octavia felt her ears droop.

"I…got held up by a Celestia's Witness on the way home," she said quietly, the lie springing forth almost effortlessly. "There was one outside of the school and he stopped me to preach. I…didn't want to be rude."

Her mother sniffed dismissively and fixed her with a cold glare. Octavia felt mild panic bubble up inside of her, worried her mother would see right through the lie. She'd never lied to her mother before.

"Well. Next time you can tell them you've got something more pressing than a cult to join, do you understand me? I don't want to see you being late again, or your punishment will be severe."

And then Octavia was alone in the living room, her mother returning to her cleaning with a no nonsense attitude and nary a kind word. She was floored. The lie had worked. In a strange way, she felt liberated by this fact. Her fingers relaxed on her bag strap and her shoulders felt light. Not wanting her mother to find a reason to come back out, Octavia scurried to her bedroom to finish what little homework she had.

Her hands were on auto pilot as she did her homework, all of her classes somehow too easy today. Her mind was reeling with what had happened earlier, with her friends and with her mother. A part of her knew she should feel bad for lying to her mother, but it wasn't being very loud. Lying was wrong, but if Octavia squinted, so was what her mother was doing to her. Wasn't there something Vinyl had said, teenagers need space or rebellion or something? She was growing up. She'd have to be on her own someday.

Octavia sighed. What would she even do? Music college was the obvious option, but that didn't guarantee her anything, just a random shot in the dark as a musician. Even ponies with instruments for cutie marks didn't always get to play them as a career. It was hard and it was competitive. In a disheartening way, Vinyl had been right when she'd said that cello was common. The earth pony drooped onto her papers. She was so useless.

In an effort to distract herself from crying, Octavia shuffled her papers around, trying to find something that would actually take some thought. She stopped as she pulled out a badly colored piece of paper, colored pencil scribbled in and out of the lines, blending together and labeling the poor brain in sloppy handwriting. It was so terribly done that Octavia couldn't help but laugh, half out of amusement and half out of pity for her psychology teacher. Vinyl was definitely the lazy type. She shook her head as she placed the paper carefully into her folder, wondering why she even trusted the unicorn with something simple like this. Even with her coloring, Vinyl was free and unbound and vibrant. Octavia knew that, if she had colored the page, everything would be perfect. Not a single white space or scribble outside the lines. Hell, she might have even tried to shade and highlight it, just to pacify her mother. She pulled out a half-finished math sheet and began to work on the problems. If all of this was so stifling, why couldn't she quit? Why couldn't she rebel? What sort of punishment was really stopping her from doing that?

Her pencil stilled.

She didn't have a cellphone or computer, and she wasn't allowed to watch television. Her books were all technical and her only real hobby was the cello. What could her mother take away from her that she hadn't already? They had to stay in Ponyville, her father's job was here.

Octavia stood up, her hands shaking slightly. Nothing was really stopping her except for guilt and fear. She was strong, she could overcome that. Couldn't she? She glanced back at her homework, remembering how silly Vinyl looked draped across it in the library, acting like a little bit of English was the end of the world. Taking a deep breath, she stepped over to her closet, opening it up slowly and quietly, trying not to draw suspicion to her silent room (even though her closet was hers and she could open it whenever she wanted to). Purple eyes scanned the contents, glossing over long drab skirts and itchy turtlenecks until they finally spotted an old pair of dark grey jeans. Pulling them out, Octavia held them up to her body, wondering if they'd even still fit her. They were a gift from an aunt back when she first started high school, a pair of nice jeans she was never allowed to wear because jeans were form-fitting and sinful. Her mother had turned up her muzzle at the lack of a tail strap and told Octavia that while it would be rude to get rid of a gift, she would not be allowed to wear such trashy, low-rise clothing.

Octavia tossed the jeans on her bed and slipped off her skirt, letting it pool around her hooves. Her heartbeat rose up into her ears and throat, choking her up with the anxiety that her mother could walk in at any moment and catch her. She picked up the pretty gray jeans and put one hoof in, then the other, holding her breath and pulling them up. They stuck on her hips for a moment, causing a spike of terror to shoot through her stomach. She tugged on them almost frantically, and inched them up over her hips, buttoning them as soon as she could. She paused and exhaled, reveling in the strange feeling.

She'd worn skirts for as long as she could remember, ones that were ankle-length and had tail straps. Elementary and middle school were bad times for her, as all the other foals made fun of her for looking like a rock farm pony. These pants didn't have a tail strap, the waistband hitting just underneath her full tail, leaving her hipbones slightly exposed. They were tight around her legs, a comforting constriction that made her feel free and sultry. She could spread her legs as wide as she wanted, she could do a cartwheel, she could…

A noise from the kitchen made her jump, almost tripping over her own hooves as she whirled to face her door. She stayed stock still for a few moments, but no one came. Making a snap decision, she grabbed her sewing scissors and crept into the hallway, darting to the bathroom and locking the door behind her. She was on the verge of hyperventilation as she finally looked at herself in the mirror.

Octavia was stunned.

She'd seen herself without clothes on before, but never really looked at the way her body was shaped. It wasn't right to preen about her looks, according to her mother, so she never did. But now…Now she understood why Rarity kept a mirror in her lunchbox.

She smoothed her hands over her hips, feeling the textured denim and marveling at how curvy they were, nothing like the sharp angles Vinyl had, but softer like Pinkie Pie's. She turned, looking over her shoulder and blushing slightly at how tight the pants were around her backside, her tail arching freely. She took a slow breath and glanced down at the scissors she held in her hand. Very carefully, she pinched up as much of the jeans as she could from her thigh, making a tiny snip that sounded too loud in the quiet bathroom. Wiggling the scissors blade through, she cut in small increments, tracing the destiny she knew all too well. When she was done with that side, she moved to the other.

Two circular flaps of denim fell to the floor. She stared, wide-eyed, at what she had done, a goofy, sheepish smile spreading on her face. Her cutie mark boasted through her handmade cutie pockets, purple and curving and proud. She felt dangerous and giddy. But most importantly, she felt free.

Snatching up the denim pieces, she made sure there was no evidence left in the bathroom before peeking out into the hallway to make sure it was clear. She bolted back to her room, having to struggle not to slam the door after her as she tugged off the jeans and pulled her skirt back on. Panting slightly, she rolled the jeans up tight and shoved them into the bottom of her bag. Closing the flap, she sat back against her bed, anticipation and excitement building up within her as she wondered what Vinyl would say when she saw her new pants.

"Octavia!"

The shout startled her again, shooting her heart rate back up to a million miles a minute.

"Dinnertime, you had better have your homework finished!"

Glancing at the pages, she stuffed a few underneath her bed that weren't all the way done and took the rest out into the dining room. Nothing, she decided, that happened tonight would be able to ruin what tomorrow would bring.

Author's Note

Slammed this out, forgot to upload this chapter on here. Sorry it took so long, so have fun!