Pink Hair

"Heh. Relax, I was just joking"
>You expertly dodge her feeble flailing fists
>"IT'S NOT FUNNY" she bellowed, keeping up her assault.
"Ow, ow, ow! Look, stop! Can we talk about this? It was just a prank!"
>The barrage of petty punches stop, and you get a glance at the tears in her eyes.
>"A prank?! A fucking prank? You prick, who puts BLUE HAIR DYE in shampoo as a PRANK?"
>You snigger internally, though don't dare change your expression.
"Aww but it does suit you! Really! Loo-"
>A tirade of angry tears cut across you.
>"How the fuck am I supposed to show up to work like THIS?! I'll be rejected from every meeting! Laughed at! Fired!"
>Okay, this over-reaction was a little too much.
"H-hey, I'm sor-"
>"Oh you're sorry?! Great! Too bad that doesn't solve this fucking crime against humanity on my scalp!"
>She tugs a strand of her short hair.
>"How'd you fucking like it if..."
>She falters.
>"Oh ho."
>A sick smile slithers into existence on her sharp face.
"What?"
>"Let us see how you like pink hair, you prancing prick!"
>At once, she twists the silver ring on her middle finger.
>Bright light radiates fantastically from it, completely startling you.
"What the hell is that?"
>No answer as your girlfriend closes her eyes and starts waving her hand in midair
>It was like she was finger-painting, using the glowing ring to draw shapes and symbols in the air.
"Just what..." you begin, but the chanting starts.
>The affect is immediate.
>You start deflating, or at least the equivalent of.
>Bones, skin all shifting to gain a better hold on your frame.
>Pink hairs sprout up your arms, your hands balling into uncontrolled fists.
"No stop, please!" you cry out.
>The maniacal grin displaying under the blue hair was down-right frightening.
>"Oh don't worry, I'm just 'pranking' you!" She sneers.

>The chant continues: Dye my hair, make me swear, but at least I'm not a little mare!
>What was in that blue dye? Did it compromise her brain?
"Just what... the hell... kind of prankin' ish..."
>Your speech slowly slurs as your tongue reduces in size.
>"And I just asked you the same question. Time for a taste of your own medicine, I think."
>Your brain couldn't decide on the more pressing issue: Your girlfriend's secret sorcery? Or the continual sprouting of thin candy-pink hairs on your flesh?
"M-magic?" you manage to wheeze as the feeling of giant rubber bands compressing your lungs reaches critical.
>"Oh please, if you ever actually LISTENED to me, you'd know all this stuff! I'm sure I told you what I did to my previous Ex. Oh, by the way, I'm breaking up with you."
>Your immediate logical rebuttal about restoring her hair color with magic is swallowed when the world flips.
>Gravity has finally pushed your balance to the limit, and you topple over to see tiny pink-coated legs kicking in the air.
>Uh oh.
>The area above your rear suddenly tickles.
"S-stop..." comes your feeble whine.
>This battle was long lost, though.
>"Nope. I get blue hair, you get pink. It's only fair."
>Silky strands of something snake out from above your rump
>The growth of a tail was potentially the most disgusting sensation you've ever endured.
>By now you were no more than 3ft tall, your bones and flesh sculpted as easily as wet clay.
>Pink fills your peripheral vision.
>"I think we're done here."


>Stiff and sore, you open a bleary eye to see someone with blue hair examining closely.
>"Now think about how much I've just unfairly compromised your life, Prancing Prick, and how your prank was equally as hurtful."
>Prancing Prick? Somehow this phrase clicked with you instantly, almost as if...
"What did you do to my name?!"
>Blue bitch's shit-eating grin was enough of an answer.
>"You're grounded - stay here while I pack up my things. Oh, and also..."
>You look into her face trying hard not to break down into panicked tears.
>"With a smaller frame comes a smaller brain. The longer you stay like that, the more your mind and memories will adapt. Transformation 101: Never change someone into a form that can't support a mind, less you wish them to lose it. Just be thankful you're not a hairbrush."
>And with that, she whips around and storms out the room.
>The slam of the door reverberates around the room as dramatically as her threat.
>Cold sweat oozes from under your coat, your mouth instantly drying out.
>Shit. We need an escape plan, and fast.
>At that moment you spot a game disc lying label-down near the TV.
>Okay: First you need to assess the damage.
>Stumbling with every moment, your now-solid fists clatter against the wooden floor.
>You successfully manage to examine your reflection on the disc's metal side.
>Ho-leee shit. Well, you were certainly pink. And small. And a pony.
>Fighting the urge to faint takes gusto. Ponies, man. Why a pony?
>A sudden flashback engulfs your mind.

>Laying in bed, post-sex.
>Your girlfriend, buzzing with hormones, keeps rattling on about her childhood.
>Your brain wanted sleep. She wanted a list of all your childhood heroes.
>She definitely mentioned a love for My Little Pony then, but why...?
>A foreign movement on your head jerks you back to life.
>Instinctively you swat at it, only to clunk your head with a hoof.
"Ouch!" you squeak out-loud.
>That voice is... adorable.
>The source of movement rings loudly in your ear. Because it WAS your ear.
>No: it's the ponies ear. Not yours.
>Armed with the knowledge that you were now a pink pony called Prancing Prick, your heart hammers fiercely.
"Let me out! I can't reach the handle!" you yell at the foreboding, solid white door.
>Only the sounds of scraping and mind thumbs diffuse under the door.
>She really was packing up.
>Mama was leaving. No, what? Your GF was leaving!
>Determined not to give up, you relentlessly buck the closed door with your hind legs.
>Despite your size, this approach makes an impressive banging noise.
"Okay joke's over!" you call, voice reaching a new plateau of high.
>The sounds of packing stop.
>"Prancing Prick, stop. I forbid you to talk or move until you learn your lesson."
>The sound of your name acts as a trigger, and immediately your mouth seals and your rump meets the floor.
>Had you learned your lesson yet?
>Well, if being absolutely terrified was something to go by, then yes.

>Rooted to the spot, you debate with yourself.
>Pranks are funny!
>But... why?
>Because it's enjoyable to tease others!
>But... it's cruel to cause them distress.
>It's only a harmless prank!
>But... how long will it take to reverse?
>Days? A month? Hmm...
>Perhaps... did you over do it?
>Was there certain pranking boundaries?
>Your GF certainly wasn't happy. In fact, you made her cry.
>Why would you do something to hurt her?
>This was getting hard to process.
>Okay: Altering someone's appearance = bad
>Pranks = bad
>So, if you like pranks... then do you = a bad person?
>It all started making sense.
>Silent tears leak over your sleek, bubblegum pink face.
>What you'd done wasn't fair.
>The last thing you remember was bitter self-resentment.
>Where were you now? It takes a few seconds to collect your bearings.
>So soft, and comfy...
>You lift a lazy eyelid to look around.
>Was this... someone's leg?
>"Oh, you're awake."


>That voice. Your muscles tense - you're so totally still in trouble.
"Hey there, ma-" you begin, but catch yourself.
>There's silence.
"Where am I?" you ask in a sleepy voice.
>"Still in the living room. I found you asleep behind the door."
>Did you fall asleep? You can't remember...
>"Listen. I'm sorry. I took this a bit too far. I may - potentially - have PMS."
>The timeless excuse.
>"I saw myself when packing in the mirror, got a laugh. I understand what you were trying to accomplish. I was still mad, but damn. You broke my resolve."
>Your pink-coated ears twitch as you listen in.
>"Annnyway, I came back to apologize, and you were sleeping. So, I picked you up, poured some wine, ate some chocolate and have been petting you. I have to say, it's very... therapeutic."
>At least she's happy, you think bitterly.
"Can I be me again then? I'm real sorry." you pipe up.
>She stops sipping from her glass and gives you a furtive look.
>"Maybe. Actually, no. I'm digging the pink. I've still not forgiven you."
>Your heart sinks, but then instantly soars as warm hands caress your back.
>"Let me pet you some more, then we'll see." she instructs.
>Luxurious fingers scratch your spine, as if quelling an itch that wasn't there.
>The ticklish sensation sends tingles to the roof of your mouth, and the bliss causes you to drool.
"I... love you" you manage to breathe dreamily
>She just giggles.
>"I know you do, Prancing Prick."