In the Wrong Body: The Tale of a Transcolt

by Telefang

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Dark
Length: 2006

Scootaloo has never felt like the other fillies. In fact, he has never felt like a filly at all. Watch as the young filly-to-colt transgender ventures out to figure out his identity.

Scootaloo has never felt like the other fillies. In fact, he has never felt like a filly at all. Watch as the young filly-to-colt transgender ventures out to figure out his identity.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-04-11 23:38:35 UTC

Mom and Dad, Don't Worry About Your Son...

I fluttered my strong, grown wings into the air, the handle of my scooter in my hoofs, and twist and turn and loopty-loop in all sorts of directions. I felt the wind blow through my short, purple mane with each flap of my wings. I landed perfectly and smoothly in front of the girls, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle.

"Wow, Scootaloo! That was an awesome!" Sweetie Belle exclaimed.

"Yeah, guess yer not much of a chicken anymore, are ya? Yer practically a full-grown stallion!"

I chuckled, feeling my deep, baritone voice vibrate in my throat. "What would I do without you guys by my side?"

I woke up from my dream, the glimmer or Celestia's sun shining brightly in my drowzy eyes. I slowly tumbled out of bed and fluttered out my wings. Still puny. I stretched out my legs and let out a groan, and I winced. Still the same girly voice. I stood there for a while, humming to myself in different pitches, trying to find a satisfying low one. Nothing. I have such a feminine voice. I hate it.

I trotted to the bathroom and brushed my hair. I glared at the mirror dreadfully. My hair is short, but it's still... girly. I turned sideways, studying my rounded-off snout, long eyelashes, and scrawny neck. I took my eyes off of the mirror and fixated them downward. My legs are so small, so lanky. My chest is so small. It should be broader and more muscular, like the Wonder Bolts stallions Rainbow Dash always talks about. Their bodies are perfect. Mine is so filly-like. I hate it.

I walked downstairs to the kitchen. My mother, a cheerful, bright yellow mare with long, flowing, violet hair, sat at the kitchen table, and gave a warm smile when she locked eyes with me.

"There's my pretty girl," she chimed. Pretty girl. I forced out a painful smile back. Mother was an easygoing pony, but she never hesitated to throw in the most feminine things for me. She bought me frilly gala dresses and dolls when I was very little. I never wanted to grow out my hair, despite her always telling me how beautiful I would look with a long mane like hers. I think there may have been a time where she realized that I didn't like all that nampy-pampy girly stuff, and just bought me scooters for toys and let me keep my mane at the length it is.

"Oh, there she is," my dad called out monotonously from the stove. She. I shuddered. My dad wasn't quite as cheery as my mom. He was definitely the "bad cop" out of my two parents, but I could never help but to envy him. He was a big, muscular pegasus, with wings as large as my whole body. His red coat accentuated each curve and crevice of the muscles and veins along his body. His dark purple mane was buzzed, and he had stubble that ran along his squared-off, masculine jawbone. I felt jealous of every square-inch of his body. He was such a cold stallion, and I never knew why he was so cold, but what I did know was that he was manly. It was intriguing to me.

Come to think of it, though, a lot of stallions I see fill me with the same kind of envy. I want my body to look like theirs. I want to have facial hair like them. I want my voice to be deep like theirs. Being a filly is dreadful in my eyes. Apple Bloom has no problem wearing a pink bow in her hair. Sweetie Belle has no problem loving all things cute. For me, however, those kind of things set me off - not in a grossed-out, tomboy way - but more so it makes me frustrated. I was born in the body of a girl. I should like things like this. I should not feel so much disgust when I think about my body. All the girls I know seem so okay with their female bodies, but I yearn to have the body of a boy. I want to be a boy.

I have heard of these ponies who feel like they should be a different gender, and sometimes even change their bodies to match who they are inside. "Transgender," I think they're called. However, all I've heard was bad things about those ponies. They get called all of these horrible names and get treated so badly. I wouldn't want to live a life that is surrounded by so much hate, but at the same time, I envy these poorly-treated ponies as much as I envy stallions and colts. Could I be "transgender?" Maybe-.

"Scootaloo? Honey?" I blinked and snapped back into reality. My mother was standing nearly three inches in front of my face. "Oh goodness, there you are, sweetheart!"

"You were spacing out big time, kid," My dad said, placing plates of pancakes onto the kitchen table. "Now eat up quickly, you're going to be late for school."

My mom lurched up in excitement. "Oh, Scoot, before you leave, I found something last night that you're going to love!" She galloped out of the kitchen and came back with a photo. It was a picture of me when I was younger, stuffed into a puffy, pink dress, and my hair was curled and styled with little bows. "Weren't you just the cutest little filly? And you're growing up to be the most beautiful young mare!" Cutest little filly. Beautiful young mare. I choked back my frustration and agreed politely. I'm growing up to be the most beautiful young mare. I hate it.

I'll Be Okay, I'll Take These Days One-By-One...

I ate my breakfast and walked out the door, my mind fixed on the picture I saw. I don't know why I felt so appalled to see myself in the pink dress, or why I hated the thought of being a mare. Do other fillies and colts feel like this, or am I just a weird odd-one-out? What if I am one of those ponies who are considered "transgender" or what-not? My mind was racing with all of these questions until I got to my class.

"Mornin', Scootaloo!" Apple Bloom called out at her desk. Sweetie Belle was at her desk as well, and she grinned at me and waved.

"Morning, girls," I said, giving a polite, warm smile. I sat at my desk and quietly awaited for Miss Cheerilee to come in and start class, as I usually do every morning. Although, in my silence and the buzzing background noise of my classmates chattering, my mind began to focus in on the events of this morning again. I stretched my front hooves onto my desk and examined them like I did this morning, and once again, I feel uncomfortable seeing how thin and small they are. I would have started taking a second look at the rest of my body if my thoughts were not interrupted by the start of class.

"Good morning, class!" Miss Cheerilee chimed as she walked into the classroom. She walked over to her desk and grabbed a clipboard and pen. "Before I begin, let me take attendance. I'll start off with the fillies. Sweetie Belle?"

"Here!" Sweetie shouted out.

"Apple Bloom?"

"Here!"

"Silver Spoon?"

"Here!"

This continued on, each girl in class replying when Miss Cheerilee announced her name.

"And last but not least out of our fillies, Scootaloo?"

Last but not least out of our fillies. After hearing my name being paired with the other girls' names in class, I felt this sharp pain shoot in my chest that I could not explain. It felt like the longer I went hearing people refer to me as a girl, the worse it seemed to hurt me. I grumbled out, "Here," before putting my head on my desk, trying to fight back the sting in my chest. This was going to be a long day.

As soon as Miss Cheerilee dismissed us from school that day, I bolted out. Usually after school, I go straight home, or I go to the Cutie Mark Clubhouse, but during the school day, I decided that I needed answers. I didn't know how I would get them, but I knew I needed to get to the bottom of this feeling I had. I trotted throughout Ponyville, trying to find somepony I know who would know even a little bit of what is going on with me.

I felt a blast of wind blow through my short, purple mane as I saw a blurry, blue figure rush above my head. When I looked up, I saw Rainbow Dash in the sky, corkscrewing through clouds and making all sorts of twists and turns right before my eyes. Rainbow Dash isn't girly at all. Does she feel the way I'm feeling? The only way I would find out is by asking. Besides, she did tell me all those months ago that she'd take me under her wing.

"Rainbow Daaash!" I shouted out to the sky, and I watched as the blue pegasus slowed down and descended onto the ground next to me.

"Oh, hey kiddo!" She grinned, catching her breath. "What's up?"

"I- uh..." I stammered, suddenly feeling afraid to ask. Rainbow Dash is so cool - what if she thinks I'm weird? I don't want her to hate me and not want to be like a big sister to me anymore. However, asking is the only way I would be able to figure out why I'm so bothered by being a filly. I took a deep breath, and bravely continued. "Have you ever felt like you should be a colt? Like you weren't really meant to be a mare?"

Rainbow Dash's eyes widened and her smile was wiped off of her face, clearly taken by surprise. "Well, no, I don't think so. Other ponies sometimes say I'm not 'lady-like,'" Rainbow Dash smiled calmly, once again, "but I'm pretty sure they're just too jealous to see I don't have to act like a mare to still be a mare. Why? Did somepony say you should be a colt?"

I looked at the ground sheepishly, "Well, no, but that's how I feel. I don't like how girly my body looks or how my voice sounds or when people call me a girl or 'she' or-." I stopped, feeling my face tense up and eyes sting with tears. I squinted and took a deep breath, choking back the raw emotions that were trying to creep out of me, and I continued. "I just feel like I should be a colt." I looked up and saw Dash staring at me sympathetically.

"Sorry, kid, if I had any advice, I'd give it to you, but I can't say I've felt like that." Rainbow Dash shrugged, and I looked away from her again, feeling ashamed to have admitted that to one of the coolest ponies I know.

"It's okay, Rainbow Dash. I just figured maybe you knew a thing or two that would help me out..."

"Well hey," Dash piped up. "Maybe Twilight could help you. She's smart."

I nodded in agreement. Twilight Sparkle was one of the smartest mares in Ponyville. Although I didn't know her too well, she might be able to help me.

Dash spread her wings. "Anyway, Scoot, I gotta keep practicing my tricks. Just remember that even if you're a filly or a colt or anything like that, you're still one of the most awesome foals I know."

A genuine smile emerged onto my face. "Thank you so much, Rainbow Dash."

"No prob, kiddo. See ya!" Rainbow Dash took off to the sky, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust near me. I turned toward the library and began walking. Twilight is just an acquaintance to me, but maybe she'll be able to solve whatever is going on with me.