Belle Pt. 2

(Separating into parts to better organize)


Belle POV

There’s a muffled groaning that gently sweeps you back to reality from your blissful slumber. Your ears perking up involuntarily to face the source, as they always do, and decipher the sound as being one of an opening garage door. It hardly takes a second of thought before your subconscious has you standing on all fours, frivolously stumbling your way across the house toward the front door. The lingering grogginess posed a minor obstacle as it begged for you to retain your state of relaxation, but your reward for refusing to succumb to its nagging urges will be a million times more gratifying. It always is~

You plop yourself to your haunches a yard or so from the door, sitting up politely with “good pony” posture as your Mistress refers to it. A fetlock is raising to your lips to conceal a mild yawn before 100% of your attention is directed toward the entry way. Your tail isn’t much for remaining still as excitement courses your body, but by now you’ve learned to exaggerate its movements to provide more of a “waggy” tail for her. She always seems to giggle at her little wiggly-waggy pony, and you’ve been through this ritual enough now to know what puts a smile on her face.

There’s a short-lived period of silence before the handle is gripped and the door is gently opened, your Mistress calmly making her way inside with her work bags in tow. It takes an obscene amount of effort, but you manage to remain seated in place as your body helplessly quivers before her in waves of unbearable happiness.

“Well look who it is~” She hums softly in that all-too-familiar sarcastically surprised tone.

“Welcome home!” You chirp amidst your wiggling, a massive smile glued to your face.

You could never pinpoint exactly why, but you’ve progressively become more and more accustomed to this unbearably warm feeling you received while in her presence. Eye contact with her was soothing enough to calm any tier of anxiety and a simple stroke of the mane could send you into a coma. Not to mention praise. You’re not sure there’s any english vocabulary to describe the feeling you receive when being praised.

“Why thank you, Miss Belle. When I took in a little mare I hardly expected to be greeted everyday I returned from work. A pleasant surprise I suppose?”

“As if I’m anything but.” You retort, your grin molding to one of faux overconfidence.

“And you’re painfully good at it, aren’t you?”

She deposits her equipment atop the kitchen table before kneeling down to reward you with a brief scratch beneath your chin.

“Alright, sweetheart. Go fetch me your leash, we need some exercise.”

An instinctive “Yes ma’am” is given before proceeding to fulfill the command. Trotting to the area nearest your bed and retrieving the leash from its resting place on the floor. You canter back with a little “hop” in your step as if to shake off some of the excess excitement still leftover before rounding the corner back into the kitchen where the leash is handed off to your owner.

“Good girl. Now look at the sky!”

You obey, raising your snout to the ceiling as you allow her easier access to your collar. There’s a faint *snap* as your leash is clipped before you’re given a gentle tug.

“Okie dokes, let’s get a move on girly.”

The both of you then set out on your normal trek. A ravine not far from Mistress’ backyard housed a little dirt path that spanned about 4 - 5 miles into a small cluster of trees you could consider a ‘forest’. Luckily, the houses is this neighborhood were spread far enough apart with a fair density of trees in between, so being seen was hardly a worry.

You trot wordlessly beside your Mistress, keeping her same pace as to allow slack on your leash. A simple task in theory, but when you first began your walks with her it was an oddly difficult thing to grasp. Often times you’d trot a bit too fast and gag yourself before trying to slow down enough for her and gagging yourself again. It was easy enough to retain a consistent speed with 4 legs, so as your mind numbed from the therapeutic motions you’d forget about Mistress’ altering pace as she went up and down grades. Though, as with anything, it eventually became second nature and you adapted. You suppose now you somewhat understand a puppy’s struggles when they have their first dance with a leash.

The quiet sounds of a calm fall evening are soothing, and as per usual you’ve lost yourself in thought, but it seems your Mistress isn’t too keen on the silence today and attempts to strike up a conversation.

“So, Belle, have you been keeping in touch with Max lately?”

“Huh? O-oh. Not really. He said he was ‘in a bit of a bind’ and wouldn’t be able to message for a while.”

“Well that’s alarming. Did he specify?”

“Nope.”

“Odd. I hope he’s alright.”

“Oh I’m sure he’s fine. He’s kind of a badass.”

“A badass, huh?” Your Mistress questions with a mild hint of suspicious interest.

“Y-yeah, why?”

A quick glance up at her reveals a condescending grin and a raised brow being worn as if it to tease you.

“I’ve seen the way you two talk. If I didn’t know any better I’d think you two were starting to grow quite fond of each other~”

“W-wait… what do you mean?”

“A girl wants what a girl wants, love. There’s no shame in it.”

Wait what? Is she... Is she really suggesting that you’re crushing on your best friend? How is that even possible? Sure you were a girl now and aspects of your femininity have either significantly amplified or have completely forged from nonexistence during your time as a mare, but never once did you think you’d be able to date a guy! And definitely not your best friend! He wasn’t even a pony anyway! Or a pet! That would never work! You two lived totally different lives now. You weren’t even on the same tier of the food chain as Max, let alone the same species. It’d be like trying to date someone’s dog. Kind of… Okay maybe less weird. But still!

“M-Mistress! I wouldn’t--!”

“Oh hush you” She giggles, “Wasn’t it less than a week ago you told me about a dream where you kissed a stallion?”

Your head naturally reels from her sight, attempting to hide as you’re certain your cheeks are now burning red enough to be seen through your fur.

“B-but he’s not a stallion…” You justify.

“Maybe not, but he IS attractive. You can’t deny.”

Is this… gossip? I mean, yes, of course it was gossip, but were you really taking part in it? For the past few weeks the extent of your conversations rarely strayed beyond your innocent altercations of witty back and forths. Unless this was just a way to get you all flustered for her amusement, which would be fitting, but the tone in her voice says she’s out for a little more than just a blush on your face.

“But…” Mistress continues with a short pause for suspense, “What if he were a stallion?”

She offers you a genuine glance of curiosity. This one stumps you, freezing in your tracks in a sudden bout of deep thought. What was she even getting at? You being made a pony was completely on accident. She found you left for dead in a dumpster after being nearly raped by some freaks who decided to use some miracle drug on you. She can’t possibly be considering someone else willingly taking this form for the sake of a romance? Especially not Max. You wouldn’t allow it. Or rather, you’d protest it as much as you could. You didn’t have much say in the world around you anymore.

“B-but he can’t be a stallion! He has a human life!”

“So did you, right? And calm yourself Belle. I would never encourage someone to give it all up for something so uncertain. Your circumstances were different. BUT, if he were ALREADY a stallion? That’s what I was getting at.”

Your ears droop as your bewildered tone doesn’t go unnoticed. Guilt being the more prominent emotion now as you try to offer an apologetic whimper. She nods in acceptance and gestures for you to proceed with your response.

“W-well… if he were already one... “ An unwelcome fluttering grows within your chest, “I suppose I might toss an interested glance here and there…”

Mistress seems satisfied with your answer and displays another knowing smirk.

“How adorable~”

To avoid any further signs of embarrassment, you hang your head and idly kick at the dirt on the ground with a hoof. It’s not long though before a light yank on your leash gags you back to reality as Mistress sets course on the path again.

“Alright cute stuff. Let’s finish this walk before it gets dark.”


--------

Max POV


It’s pretty late, and you know you should be asleep, but the clusterfuck of anxiety and fear assaulting your sanity has you about as wide awake as ever. After a good 2 hours of rolling about under the covers in a futile effort to grab some sleep, you’ve settled for mindlessly scrolling through some deviantart libraries of those colorful horses you seem to enjoy more than you should.

You’re not sure why, but it was comforting. Surely nothing you would have thought to do in the past, but was now a common routine after Belle’s departure a few weeks ago. Maybe it helped you cope with the fact you were pretty much all alone now? With Anon-Now-Belle gone and Ali out of the picture, the only people you really had were the “friends” you’d hit up to get wasted or buy some weed from if they had any extra. Well them and your psycho parents. They weren’t much for comfort either, unless your idea of comfort was a long conversation about how Obama is going to burn down the country and the end of the world is perpetually around the corner.

Yeah, looking at ponies was definitely the only viable option right now.

It was kind of funny actually, you couldn’t help but smirk every time you looked at the overabundance of pony art the littered every square inch of the web. Not because the pictures brought joy, but because there was this temptation to rub it in everyone’s face that you got to meet a real one. Albeit an aesthetic restructure of a human male, but a pony nonetheless. All they have is art, and for a few days there you had the real deal. Max: 1 Horsefuckers: 0

Though you suppose galavanting about /mlp/ with intent to brag about meeting a real pony would probably just earn you some responses telling you that you were mentally deluded with a tulpa or some shit, followed by the posts telling you to kill yourself.

Eh, the best things in life are the ones that don’t need to be shared, right?

You continue scrolling through the endless libraries of pastel equines, hoping that, maybe, you might be able to find solace from your worries as you’d done the past few times of doing this, but you still can’t seem to calm yourself enough to relax. Your heart rate was stuck in overdrive and your body quivered from the adrenaline that refused to relent.

You suppose it might be fitting to mention the police having a warrant out for your arrest? A small detail you might have skipped.

After the incident with Belle and Ty, you figured the bastard would just accept the loss and move on. Sadly, that wasn’t the case. He went to the authorities afterward and is now attempting to press “assault” charges on you, and considering what you did to him, you’re quite certain you’d be spending some quiet time behind bars. If you could, you would gladly face the fucker in court if “defending a fictional creature” were a valid argument. That and there’s no way you’d be able to afford the legal fees when all was said and done. So for now, you resorted to nestling yourself away in your new studio apartment until the inevitable came.

Since you had yet to submit a formal change of address, the po-po still just assumed you lived at Ali’s. And after telling Ali why they were looking for you, there was no way she was going to rat you out, but even then you weren’t going to be able to hide forever. Delaying the inevitable was a sickening thought, but it was better than sharing a cell with “Bubba”, at least for the time being...

You sigh and toss the phone to your side. It was useless. Your mind was running at ludicrous speed and there was hardly anything you could do to distract yourself.

You weren’t a bad person. If anything, you tried to do the best you could when the opportunities presented themselves. You thought you’d done right by the world when you ransacked Ty’s face for taking advantage of a girl literally a sixth of his size. So why did the universe want you in jail? Why did whatever almighty deity that controlled the mechanizations of the world around you want a good deed to be rewarded with imprisonment? Not like you did what you did for the sake of doing what was right, but still!

There’s a sudden vibration from your phone that halts your flurry of thoughts.

Huh, strange. It’s like, 2am.

You grip your phone and lift if up to read the message still lit on screen.

>“Yo u free?”

The sender was a name you weren’t too fond of seeing. One of the many shit heads that distributes and trades the “doses” and “antidotes” for turning people into pones. He’s basically the reason Belle is the way she is now, but in his defense it was completely out of his control. Wrong place, wrong time. That was really the only justification you had for that situation.

At least he was willing to hook you up with an antidote for free at the time, even though you didn’t end up using it. Antidotes are crazy expensive, and the “doses” are 3 times as pricey. There’s a reason you don’t see many people-made-pones running around, because the shit is scarce and it don’t come cheap.

You turn your attention back the message still glowing in your face. Normally you would have just ignored him, but if his purpose for messaging you was a means to keep your from your thoughts then you were game.

“What’s up?”

>“I need you to meet me somewhere.”

“What, why?”

>“I got a job.”

“Right now?”

>“Yeah. Lotta money for this one. You’ll get a split.”

The prospect of earning money before being arrested sounded kind of useless, but why the hell not?

“Alright. Let’s meet at ihop or something.”


------------------

MAX Pov

You saunter through the entrance of the restaurant with the best ‘calm’ demeanor you could muster. You suppose it was just the collective excitement of everything combined with the adrenaline still coursing your system, but you hardly have the capacity to pay it any mind right now. Coming to a stop near a very tired looking hostess, you let her know her a you’re meeting someone who’s probably already arrived. She nods and tilts her hea, signaling you to head into the seating area to find them.

It takes a bit of searching, but eventually you spot a familiar head poking over the edge of a booth in a discreet corner of the restaurant. The head undoubtedly belonging to the person of interest, Eddy. Or rather, that was his nick name.

His real name was Eduardo, a Brazilian that’s been living here long past the duration of his visa. So, much like yourself, he tried to fly under the radar as best he could.

You slide into his field of view and offer a halfhearted smile before taking a seat across the table from him. Last time you saw Ed was when Anon got turned, then soon after, went missing.

“Max! Haven’t seen your face in a while.” Ed starts up, his expression seeming genuinely relieved.

“I’ll say. How ya been?”

“Not bad, just getting by, you know? Day by day.”

“I hear ya. Things have been pretty rough on my end as well.” You offer, humoring the conversation with formalities because, well, why not?

You didn’t have any serious qualms with Eddy, nor did you ever really mind his presence. He was a shitthead, you couldn’t deny, but he was better known for his “that one guy that’s pretty down to earth but always gets himself in deep shit” role. It was for that reason you always tried to keep somewhat of a distance. But with the likelihood of you spending some times behind bars yourself, you figured getting into a bit of trouble was the least of your worries.

“So this job.” You continue.

“Right, yes! The job. Uhm, it’s a big one.” His behavior seems to take a more nervous turn. You’d noticed his timid mannerisms upon sitting down, but now you suspected there was something more to this job than you may have signed up for.

“Yeahhh, So you’ve said” Your voice wears a suspicious tone, “What are we doing?”

“Well you know, like, the usual stuff. Doses and transporting and such.”

As he finishes his answer, you notice his hand slowly sliding a napkin near your end of the table. What? You look up about to question him when he raises his brows and nudges his head toward the napkin, beckoning you to take it.

You oblige, picking it up and subtly lifting it into view. There was a crudely written note on it. Hard to make out, but you managed.

“Wearing a wire. Meet me in bathroom.”

Mother fucker. You should have known. The police couldn’t find you themselves, so they were obviously going to try using anyone associated with you to do it for them. Fucking bastards. Well this is it, this is the night it all goes down.

You should have guessed it would be fucking Eddy too. Probably trying to get himself out of some stupid shit to save his own ass. You two being the pawns in this whole game, of course he’d rat out the little guys first, and of course the very first ‘little guy’ would be you!

“H-hey, excuse me for a sec, I need to use the restroom.” He mutters, promptly standing himself from the booth and making his way toward the hallway where the restrooms were. He looked back to offer you one last glance before rounding the corner out of your vision.

You fiddle with the napkin in your hand while staring off in thought for a few moments, considering your next course of action. Your heart rate was already running rampant before getting here, but now you’re certain it’s beating so fast it might just stop beating altogether.

You’re not sure why Ed wanted to meet you in private, either. To talk without being heard he’d have to take off the wire, which would be fruitless considering there’s probably a police officer or two waiting close by to come and take you away. There wasn’t much he could do or say to ease the situation, so you weren’t sure if you should even humor him by fulfilling the napkin’s request.

Though, despite the potential uselessness of doing so, you elect to stand after a minute or so of sitting in the silence before following his tracks. Upon entering the restroom, you see him leaning toward the mirror, his face covered in water as the sink ran below him.

“Ed, what the fuck is going on? A wire, really?” You contend, your voice raised.

“Look man, I know you’re pissed, but they’re after you for a lot more than just punching Ty’s face.”

This jarrs you a bit. More? What else did you do? As far as you’re concerned your involvement with the ‘doses’ was less than minimal. It would hardly warrant a manhunt like the one they seem to have out for you. Wait… and how the hell did he know about you punching Ty’s face!?

“Ed, seriously, tell me what the fuck is going on.”

He stops the water and wipes his face before raising himself to look at you.

“Look, the feds offered me a lesser sentence if I helped them catch anyone in the dosing business. I saw you on the list of people they were after, so I chose you first. There are cops surrounding the entire building, so keep you--”

Ed’s about to continue, but your anger gets the better of you and he’s cut short as you interrupt.

“Why me!? Ed, you know I have little to nothing to do with this business! Why rat me out!? Because I’m the easiest one? I swear to god I’ll rip you fucki--”

Ed returns the favor, stopping you in your tracks and taking the conversation back.

“Look! I know, it seems bad, but hear me out. I tried telling them you weren’t involved, but they think Anon’s disappearance links you to all of this. I chose you first because I knew you shouldn’t be punished.” He tries to justify.

“Then why rope me in!?”

He disregards your question and kneels down to open the small storage area below the sinks. After a bit of shuffling he emerges with a little black backpack before beginning to shuffle through that as well.

“Ed!”

“Because,” He pauses, raising something into the air and, before you’re able to make out the object in question, thrusts it toward you, “We’re not going to jail.”

You feel a sharp stinging in your neck, almost like a stabbing, before he pulls his hand away to reveal you’d just been stuck with a needle. The plunger of the syringe fully compressed, confirming that whatever was in there had been used up.

Your eyes widen.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?” You’re practically screaming now.

“Shh, Max, shut the fuck up. It was a dose.”

You can feel your stomach sink to depths unknown. A dose? A fucking dose? What the fuck was his plan? How would being colorful ponies solve any of this!?

“The cops are probably suspicious about now” Ed proceeds, “So we gotta be quick.”

“Eddy, dude, how is any of this a good idea?”

“The transformations alter DNA, even if they caught you, unless they watched it happen themselves, they couldn’t prove the pony rendition of you is really you. But luckily for us, we’re not going to get caught. The transformation takes about 12 hours, so you’ll have that time to run and hide somewhere. Find some random ass person and ask them to take you in or something, I don’t know.”

“Take me in? Look man, I’m not some pet like Anon.”

Ed pauses and looks up, surprise coloring his face.

“A pet? Anon became a pet? Aha, what the fuck?”

“It’s a long story.”

He looks down and returns his concentration to sifting through the bag.

“Whatever works. Just be someone’s pony roommate or something, no one said anything about a pet.”

“I don’t want to be some stupid horse though, man.” You whine.

He looks at the used needle lying near the sink then back at you.

“Looks like we’re past that now, huh?”

You start to worriedly tap you foot to the ground. The gravity of the situation now starting to show its weight. You weren’t sure you could actually do this. Run from cops? Despite the little hooligan you’d a reputation for being, you were never like… a criminal. And what if the transformation was too painful? You could deal with pain but the way Anon-now-Belle described it, she wanted to die. This was way too much.

“Look Ed, I can’t do this man. I can’t run like that. You said cops were surrounding the building right? How do you plan to even get past them?”

Before a verbal response is given, Ed looks up with a devious grin and tosses you a medical mask.

“You ever see a ninja disappear in a smoke bomb?”


-------


Belle POV


The sound of rustling rouses you from your dark solace. A lingering grogginess blurring your vision as you smack your tired lips and attempt to scan the room. You spot Claire digging about her jewelry and makeup drawer in front of her mirror as she generally does in the mornings before work. Usually you’re awake before her, often times acting as her alarm clock by licking her face to consciousness, but it seems today you slept in for some reason. Strange...

Claire spots your movement in the mirror’s reflection and smiles.

“Someone was a sleepy pony today.” She chirps.

“H-how long was I asleep for?” You ask, a yawn quickly following suit.

“A couple hours longer than usual. You’re lucky it’s the weekend, or else my little alarm clock would be in trouble for allowing her owner to be late.”

Your ears sink. You hadn’t thought of that.

“I-I uhm, I’m s--”

She giggles and waves a hand to dismiss your response.

“It’s fine sweetheart, I’m only teasing.”

The calm tone of of your owner’s voice sends a chill of relaxation down your spine. Your head gently sinking to rest atop your forelegs before zoning off as she continued about her ritualistic morning procedures. You couldn’t help yourself from wearing a dorky grin as you mused the life you now lived. You loved it. These mornings. Waking up and being with the one person on this earth that gave you everything. That took you when you needed it most.
There was just something magical about it. Something you couldn’t quite put your hoof on. You’d had relationships in the past, and surely you, at one point or another, had experienced “love”, but this was different. It felt more solidified. Simpler.

You were someone’s cute pony, destined to obey them and love them for the rest of your life, and in return, you were given the security of knowing your existence meant something. There was never any worry as to what you’d be doing tomorrow, or next month, or in 10 years, because that was already decided. And, for some reason, it was comforting to you.

“Belle, honey” Claire’s voice pulls you from your daze, “I don’t have any plans today. Is there something you’d like to do?”

Hmm… You weren’t much for ‘doing’ things that didn’t involve lazily lounging about or being doted on. Claire was often the bearer of plans, so you were stumped.

“Not that I can think of.”

Claire rubs her chin with a finger in thought.

“How’s about we bake some sweets today?”

Your ears perk up. Oh! That sounds fun! You loved being the chef’s little helper. You weren’t very capable with these stubs that were your hooves, but you always managed to make yourself useful somehow.

“O-only if I can lick the batter off the spoons…”

Claire snickers and leans in to scritch under your chin.

“Of course.”

You offer your own small bout of giggles as you lean into her hand. She accepts your subtle plea for rubbies and begins to run her hands along the rest of your body. Scritchy-scratching into your fur frivolously as the little pony slumps to her side. You can’t fathom a universe where you’d ever get tired of this.

THUMP. THUMP. THUMP.

A desperate banging from somewhere across the house draws the both of you to a halt. Silence lingering for a few brief seconds before it’s heard again.

THUMP…. THUMP.

“Wait here.” Claire asserts before standing and walking from the room.

You would normally obey, but your curiosity seems to take control and you tumble off the bed to follow suit, peeking around the corner into the hallway. You seem to have a clear view of Claire as she approaches the house’s front door, caution in her step as the “thumps” were a lot more violent than your average UPS man dropping off a package.

She leans down to take a small peek through the peep-hole before undoing the locks. It’s kind of funny to think, the last time something like this happened you were both surprisingly met with--

SWOOSH.

Before you could even finish the thought, the door swings open against Claire’s own will, eliciting a panicked shriek from Claire and revealing the silhouette of what was easily the figure of a man. The hairs on your back shoot up at the sight. You’re about to scamper off in panic, but the sick groaning coming from his mouth and the limp in his step seems to reveal a more terrifying reality.

“ZOMBIE!!!”

THAT’S when you scamper off in panic. Well… if ‘scampering’ entailed slipping and sliding in place on the hardwood beneath you.

“MAX!?” You hear Claire scream.

You freeze. Did she just? What?

With your little heart still pounding in fear, you take the time to collect yourself before turning to gaze at the visitor once more.

Sure enough, the zombie-esque visitor was none other than your your closest friend, aside from Claire. His face and hair were drenched in sweat as his eyes wore death. Skin pale and clothes ruffled, he was not in good shape. He looked like he came straight from the morgue. Which, given his appearance, was a possibility you still hadn’t ruled out.

You’re about to trot closer when the words coming from his mouth briefly stop you.

“H-hide” He pants weakly, “I-I’ve gotta…”

He collapses before he’s able to finish his sentence, falling to his knees, then shortly after, his side. He takes a few heavy breaths before his eyes close and he dozes off.

“O-oh my god!” Claire is freaking out by this point, her hands trembling as she looks about the room “I-I need to call an ambulance!”

She starts beelining it for her phone on the counter.

“Wait!” You protest.

Claire stops, shooting you a surprised look.

You cast an inquisitive glance toward Max’s body as you draw near him. You knew this feeling. Max’s pain. It was familiar. The breathing, the sweating, the collapsing. You slowly trot up to his side and examine him. After quickly mulling over his body, you trot toward his head, placing a hoof in his hair and gently raising it to grab a look at his ears.

Oh boy.

“Uhm Claire… don’t call the ambulance.”