Starring Stripes - 4

You find yourself back on your back. Staring at the stars that Zecora has become so transfixed with recently. You have to ask yourself if this is really for your sake and not hers. A cool breeze blows through the clearing by Zecora’s hut. It’s not unpleasant since you remembered to bring a coat, “Having fur must be convenient, no need for coats or anything.”

“A layer of fur keeps the chill at bay, but still we shiver on the coldest of days.”

“I guess even ponies need a coat sometimes.” Zecora lays out a small pot filled with some kind of herb next to your head.

“Do you think you’ll find out the problem this time?”

“An answer at once I cannot relay, will you make do with a small delay?”

“Sure, I guess. Everybody in town was acting strange earlier though. They were acting like I’d gotten a haircut when no one was looking.”

Zecora glances down at you from the corner of her cyan eyes, she is focused on the task at hand but seems to find the thought amusing, judging by the smirk on her muzzle. Without another word she ignites the bowl with a candle and hands… hoofs it to you. You hold it on your chest and allow the fumes to wash over you. You silently hope that these aren’t harmful.

You’re stood in the middle of town, wait a minute – weren’t you just at Zecora’s tree? You look around and see the usual ponies going about their routines. Did you hit your head or something? “Zecora?” you whisper.

“Do not bray and cower in fear, your guide to the stars and fate is here.”

“Oh good, I was worried I’d just hallucinated half of my day, and I do not want to go shopping again.”

You begin to wander the façade of the town with a nervous smile. You know that the ponies around you aren’t real, but you still feel the need to keep up appearances and act normally. What would it say about you if you just decided to punt Twilight up the ass when she can’t retaliate? There is something different though, at first you don’t notice, but when you try to enter Sugarcube Corner and nearly knock yourself out on the doorframe you figure it out.

“Why is the door so short?”

You have to bend over to get through the damn thing. You know for a fact that despite the short stature of most ponies that the doors are tall enough for you still. You take a step back and look around, noticing a similar trend amongst all of the businesses and homes in your field of view. None of the ponies pay you much mind as you stagger about like a lost tourist.

“This is kind of freaking me out,” you muse. Everything seems to be a little bit shorter than it usually is.

“To be heard is to be believed, so tell me what it is that you see?”

“Well, it’s just Ponyville, but all of the doors are too short. Shorter than they usually are.”

You look down at yourself – you aren’t any taller, everything else has gotten smaller. You nearly jump out of your own skin as you feel a hoof touch your leg. It’s Pinkie, and you can tell that she’s gotten smaller too, where she usually reaches up to your crotch area, she now only meets your knees.

“Wow! You’re super-duper tall now! Did you have a growth spurt?”

“No Pinkie. Did you change the front door at Sugarcube corner.”

“Hm. I don’t think so! Ms Cake was very upset at me the last time I tried to remodel without her permission!” In typical Pinkie fashion, implying that she’s tried that kind of stunt multiple times. It takes you a moment to remember that this isn’t real and that you just made the entire thing up.

“It’s kind of inconvenient isn’t it? I have to duck down to even get inside.”

“Hm. True! But this is Ponyville after all, there aren’t any swell folk who are tall like you! Here, take this as an apology.”

Pinkie pulls out a cupcake and hands it to you, “Oh, thank you.” You take a bite, but your teeth meet something disagreeable. You spit it out into your hand and notice that the normally digestible cake is mixed with short strands of hay. You know that the ponies enjoy hay, but there was always food available that didn’t have any in it…

“Hey Pinkie, I can’t eat hay.”

“Huh, really? That doesn’t sound right to me, especially with those big chompers of yours! Go on, give it another try!”

For some reason you find the idea perfectly reasonable. You throw the half-chewed piece onto the ground and take a fresh bite. Whereas before it scraped against the soft skin on the inside of your mouth, and got caught between your teeth, now you find it easy to mash up and swallow. And dare you say, it even tastes good.

“You were right. I guess I was just being a picky eater.”

Pinkie smiles, “See? It’s easy If you try!”

You chuckle, “You really opened my eyes to a whole new world of food. Thanks.” But when you look down, she’s gone. She didn’t even stick around to hear you say thanks, typical Pinkie. She’s probably hounding some other poor pony on the other side of town.

“The words you speak are that of mystery, perhaps influenced by recent history.”

You almost forgot that Zecora was listening to you talk, “Pinkie just taught me to appreciate a new type of food, that’s all. I don’t know if it’ll carry over into real life…”

“We are creatures that exist to feel - sometimes a dream is as good as real.”

“Hm. Well, I hope I don’t get stabbed then.”

“To peer inside your mind if I may, on this matter what have you to say?”

“I suppose with the doors and the food – this dream has something to do with feeling out of place? Like being inconvenienced in lots of little ways.”

“A feeling of rejection will turn any creature blue, is this the feeling that always plagues you?”

“Sometimes. But I know that the doors in real life are tall enough for me, I think my mind is playing tricks on me.”

“Reality and dream may not always align - but every sight and sound is a sign. To delve into the depths of one’s own heart is the path that leads to a preordained start. We gaze at the stars and seize upon our mind, a tapestry of feeling from the finest twine.”

“I get it Zecora. It’s just that it’s hard to admit that you feel out of place to other people. You want to put on a brave face for your friends.”

She is right. There are lots of things that chip away at your spirit. The way that some of the ponies try to avoid eye contact with you or move away to the other side of the road like you’re a wild dog. The way that most menus at the restaurants are filled with hay. How hard it is to get your hands on some damn fish to keep things fresh. Everything has to be an inconvenience, a journey that can take hours to solve properly.

Zecora had told you the tale before. Even she, a native of the land that you find yourself in – faced a similar situation filled with rumour and innuendo. It surprised you for a moment, but then it started to remind you of how people were back home. They’d act polite to your face and get the knives out when your back was turned.

“But I’m sure it’s not as bad as what you had to deal with. Since I was an alien, they put on a polite face for me. It’s strange, but you being from this world made you more of a stranger than me.”

“This is a tale long covered by rust, by it’s circulation I have your trust?”

“Psh. Trust? I’ve been spilling my deepest darkest secrets to you in a drugged-up haze for two nights in a row. I think we’re a bit past trust at this point,” you don’t feel like you’ve been drugged though. Perhaps that’s how everyone experiencing a high feels. The answers come quickly; you feel in control.

“Once upon a time the thought made me weep, but we all have things that keep us from sleep. Confront the ordeal with a head held high – and the ponies will realize there is no reason why.”

“You’re a braver mare than me. I mean, I’m not a mare at all, but you get the point.”

For some reason you find that hilarious and burst out into a barking laughter. You double over, but when you stand back up you find your eyeline lower than you remember. How odd! Those small pony doorframes don’t pose so much of a problem anymore. Small victories should be taken in stride.

You look down at your hands and notice discolouration beginning to seep in. It’s almost like you’re covered in jagged bruises that lay deep under the skin. The shape and neatness of them though, you didn’t get those bruises from a fight or falling down some stairs. “Trippy.” You discard your worries and smile, there’s nothing to worry about! It’s just that stuff that Zecora is burning getting into your head again. None of this is real.

“Hey Zecora, you should tell me more about your home sometime. I can tell you about mine as well if that makes you feel more comfortable. It’s really interesting…” Zecora doesn’t answer. You find yourself back in a familiar village. The sun is shining bright and the decorations that adorned the buildings and posts have been taken down. Oh, it’s your lovely Africa-amalgamation again, the one with all the Zebras and free hair styling!

You were thinking about Zecora’s home, so it follows that this change of scenery is your fault. You doubt that Zecora’s home is anything like this. This is just something that your imagination conjured up. A fever dream of sub-African documentaries and stereotypes. Zecora doesn’t help dispel that image with all of her wooden masks and trinkets.

You feel comfortable here.

You walk between the tents on wooden boards laid down to make the soft ground navigable. Zebras go about their daily business, selling wares, talking with friends, gathering around fires and eating. It’s like a big camp out. If all the campers were chest high Zebras.

Chest high?

You feel a muzzle poke at your back. You spin around and meet the gaze of the mare who so graciously styled your hair the last time you visited. She seems excited to see you – her eyes sparkle like stars in the night sky. Her pushes become insistent as she leads you to one of the fires. The zebras say something in their language; judging from their tone they’re happy to see you again.

You’re handed a cup of something. It’s lukewarm and tickles your nose with a bitter scent. Not wanting to be a rude guest you down it in one go and nearly gag, it’s alcoholic! She pats you on the back as you try to get air into your windpipe again. The others laugh and jeer, some trying to emulate the feat themselves.

Your surroundings begin to blur. A small spark of worry fills the back of your mind – Zecora has been strangely quiet for a long time now. Not that it matters. The party is getting good and you’ve got a good buzz coming on from all this zebra booze. The fire illuminates the zebras, a veil of dark grasping the savannah.

The zebra mare rubs against you and leads you away, the group cheers and hollers again. She leads you to a small tent away from the commotion of the ongoing party. She pushes you inside and you stumble down onto a blanket made from animal fur.

“Oh man, I had too much to drink. Hey!”

The mare turns you over and begins to pull down your pants. You reach out and touch her, to push her away and maintain your dignity. But that harsh touch turns into a soft caress. The fur feels so good underneath your fingers. She blushes and smiles, pierced ears flicking in delight. The thought that you’re about to get your dick sucked off by a zebra mare does not register at some point.

Hot breath splashes against your exposed member. You’re not one to brag or to downplay his own size, but you’re pretty certain that you aren’t going to be pleasing any pony with your penis right now. The simple fact of the matter is that four-legged creatures have big old herbivore dicks, and you have an apex predator monkey wiener that’s designed to not get crushed when you sit on a chair.

Your partner does not seem to care. Her thick, broad tongue slips out and meets your shaft. It’s warm, really warm! You continue to play with her ears and fur as she gives you an impromptu blowjob. You feel the sweat running from her fur, the evening humidity getting to the both of you. A splotch of black slips from between her muzzle and the pleasure ceases.

You look down, initially thinking that you simply saw one of her stripes, but instead your penis is now afflicted with the same condition as your arms and legs. It’s thicker, angry, and veiny. Where before it comfortably sat between your legs, now it bulges from between your thighs in a battle for what little space is available.

“Uh, is that supposed to happen?”

She giggles and your heart skips a beat – well there’s nothing wrong with it per se. You can live with it for now while you have your fun at least! She struggles to take the newly enhanced length into her muzzle, her throat bulging slightly as the tip slips past her tonsils. You gasp, fingers digging into the furs surrounding you.

And just like that, the fun stops. You blink and shudder as an orgasm rocks your body. Pins and needles run across your body. You break into a cold sweat and lose focus of what you were doing. You blink. A striped face hovers over you, framed by a clear night sky. She smiles and you smile back. But it isn’t the face from before. This is someone new.

You mumble, “Huh, Zecora?”

Your eyes slip shut.