Mayor Mare CYOA (1)

You are Mayor Mare! Important details about you will go here.

>Anxiety
>[**---]
>Being Mayor is a tough job! Certain actions taken outside of your comfort zone will naturally raise your stress level. When you reach a threshold, you will act out in a shocking manner, although this may have positive effects as well.

>Bimbo Level
>[*--] – 0 (Um, what?)
>This stat reflects how well you are fitting into a bimbo mold, and is raised by taking more bimbo-like actions. Right now you do not look the part at all.

>MILF Level
>[**-] – 0 (Just Not)
>This stat reflects how well you are fitting into a MILF mold, and is raised by taking more MILFy actions. Right now you would never be confused for a MILF.


>Stats
>Perfectly Professional
>[**-] (0) – Slightly Unkempt
>You manage to stay on top of major issues, but sometimes little things escape your gaze. Your office will cover for you when mistakes happen, but don’t expect them to willingly work overtime without grumbling.
>Popular Vote
>[----] (1) – Casual Mention
>If the election were held today, it might lean your way. People are beginning to see you as more authentic than just a politician. Those outside your voting base are slow to warm up to you, but may be accepting of some of your ideas.
>Council Influence
>[**--] (1) – Greasy Palms
>Years of working with council members and local well-to-dos is starting to pay off. They are more likely to listen to your suggestions, although they may give pushback or make alterations on their own.

>Perk
>In The Know – You can impact in the city by exchanging favors with the business and political elite. Helpful with crafting policy or putting it into play.



>/Begin0/

Sometimes you find a place and you just know that it will be a perfect fit for you. For some people they prefer mountains, or rivers, filled with skyscrapers or flat plains that stretch on forever in every direction. Pure perfection. It varies from person to person, and sometimes there are places that can attract many different types of people. Canterlot City is one such place.

When you first arrived, it was ideal, filled with hopes, dreams, and possibilities. You could find a fulfilling career, marry that special someone, start a family and settle down. Or not savor the wild nightlife and hunt for fame, fortune, and sweet recognition. Everything was in your reach.

But time has tempered your dreams, and reality has made your hopes more grounded. There are expectations upon you now; you can’t just do as you please. Things like work and family, or the lack thereof, demand your attention, as well as the important details of being an adult. There have been ups and downs, but you seem to be doing well enough, all things considered. At least well enough that you can take a time away from your workplace and spend it in the park.

The sun shines down on a lightly windy day, leaving you with a slight smile on your lips. It would be impossible not to enjoy this pleasant day, but the fact that you are free of your desk makes it that much better! As you scan the park, you notice that many other people had a similar idea to your own. You can see individuals mulling around the open spaces, couples sitting on benches, families sprawled out on the grass. You heave a sigh and look down at yourself, feeling grateful that you are:

>A. Spending time with your sister (Choose: Older/Youger)
>B. Enjoying a day out with your in-law (Choose: Mother/Daughter)
>C. Out and about amongst your constituents
>D. Away from the stressful environment of your new administrative assignment
>E. Able to ignore the couples and focus on grading papers
>F. Having time alone and away from your roommates



“Good afternoon, Mayor!” a friendly voice calls out. You turn towards the dark-haired couple around your age with their child and smile, giving them a short wave as you continue your stroll through the park.

That’s right, you’re the Mayor of Canterlot City. Quite an achievement considering you only had your thirtieth birthday a couple of years ago. Some women would seek to hide that fact, but for you, age is a sign of maturity. Out of habit, you pull out a mirror from your purse and check yourself over. With a small sigh of relief, you notice that your more colorful roots are not yet showing through the smoky grey of your hair.

It is always a point of concern, that you might accidentally present yourself as somehow less than professional, so you keep close attention to your figure. In spite of your young age, you have put in a lot of work to get to this point, forgoing some of the pleasures that some of your peers are beginning to enjoy, in the pursuit of something greater.

No husband, or even a boyfriend for that matter, and certainly no children. You kept your nose in the books, rubbed elbows with people to gain access to positions of power. It was unpalatable at times, but you persevered and put yourself out there to promote the common good of Canterlot City.

And the citizens took notice. Between beautification projects, devoting more resources to the upkeep of the city and engaging with outside businesses, you went to great lengths to highlight Canterlot City’s strong points, and make it more appealing as well. Although there is a long road ahead, your actions are beginning to bear fruit.

Sometimes you do question if you are good enough for the job, but everything seems to be going well, and you were reelected. That has to count for something right? As you stand near the central plaza, you consider a simple, but difficult question. Ultimately, what do you think is most the most important quality for being a good Mayor?


>[This decision will effect your initial perk. You will have options to grow all of them with time, and possibly add more, but this will be where you have poured most of your time, energy and belief.]

>A. Keeping up appearances. Regardless of what is going on in the community, the Mayor must present a positive front. Your business is always in order, something the entire office sincerely appreciates.
>B. Serving the people. It was the citizens who took a chance to elect you, despite your age and inexperience. You won your reelection in a landslide and thus have a lot of sway over public opinion.
>C. Who you know. The truly important thing is knowing who you can talk to in order to get things done. Your personal contact list is filled with movers and shakers in Canterlot City, including City Council Members.


Politics can be a dirty business, that’s why it helps to have friends who are willing to do the dirty work, or at least find someone else who can do it for you. Not to mention the importance of fundraising, and especially having the ear of other elected officials. Many politicians can get weighed down by the bureaucracy that their positions require, but you manage it quite well.

>[Two-Horse Race: Because you guys caught my interest with your restrictive choices, I’ve decided to give you an additional stat tick to second place decision]

>Stats
>Perfectly Professional [*--] (0) – Slightly Unkempt
>You manage to stay on top of major issues, but sometimes little things escape your gaze. Your office will cover for you when mistakes happen, but don’t expect them to willingly work overtime without grumbling.
>Popular Vote [---] (0) – Social Stranger
>If the election were held today, it would be a bit of a toss up. Your policies are strong, but your personability can use some work. Expect to be regarded somewhat coolly by those outside of your voting base.
>Council Influence [----] (1) – Greasy Palms
>Years of working with council members and local well-to-dos is starting to pay off. They are more likely to listen to your suggestions, although they may give pushback or make alterations on their own.

>Perk
>In The Know – You can impact in the city by exchanging favors with the business and political elite. Helpful with crafting policy or putting it into play.

You turn your focus to the plaza in front of you. It always brings a smile to your face to see how bright and cheery it is now. In fact, this park was one of your major motivations to get involved with politics in the first place, as you grew up just a few blocks away.



For nearly a decade, the park had fallen deep into disrepair, and was generally avoided by the local population. For one of your civics courses, your teacher had insisted that the class project be an attempt to get the city to do something about the blighted mess.

That had been your first encounter with the City Council, and they had been rather reluctant to open up the city’s purse to deal with, well, anything. Apparently this was par for the course, as your teacher had been using this as the same class project for the last five years. Initially, you hadn’t given it much thought, but as you sat in the council chambers, watching as the members grumbled and griped, you felt a sort of righteous fury awaken inside you.

From then on, you went to every meeting of the City Council that you could. And whenever you were there, you forced the issue of the park. And each time they shut you down. Over and over, across the course of an entire year, before they finally relented and agreed that, with some free community assistance, they would find a way to start the beautification project. You readily attended as a volunteer until the work was completed.

After everything was said and done, you had personally gone to thank the members of the council. All in all, you actually had a very pleasant conversation with them as you gave your report. They were more than happy to see that you are sincerely interested in the local community, especially being so young. Two of them even provided you with letters of recommendation for university, and you spent time as a clerk for a third.

A young businessman, Filthy Rich, took note of your political fervor and reached out to you. He was especially interested in using you as an in to some of the more sequestered council members. In turn, he introduced you to the local business community and the two of you often discussed the merits of philanthropy and improving the city.


By the time you left university, you knew that you were going to be Mayor some day. So did every other politically connected person in Canterlot City. While the voters were never more than lukewarm to your initial campaign, you had the financial backing to pull it off, despite a few gaffs.

As a result, your first term was very business friendly, and Canterlot City has grown into a city with a wide variety of work for many different kinds of people. Already, the city is appearing in some magazines as an ideal location to work. All told, it’s a very exciting time, although some people say that you could be doing more for the social welfare.

In any case, Spring is here, and you have some time away from the office. As it has been a little while since your last visit, there are a couple of sights in the plaza that catch your eye. What would you like to check out?

>A. The pop-up snack stand, Hettie’s Confections
>B. The man doing card tricks on one of the benches
>C. The old timers sitting under the shady trees
>D. Linger by the ‘wishing pond’ instead



You decide to sit down on one of the stones surrounding the wishing pond. Once or twice, you had heard some of the parents in your office admit that their younger children believed the pond had been around since before Canterlot City was built up, but it is actually a relatively recent addition. Still, the fact that you actually broke ground and created a small pond in the middle of the park does make it seem a little more authentic.

Surrounded by regional rocks, and the consistent, burbling flow of water from a higher point, it’s understandable why children might want to believe in the magic of the place. The regularly churned water is clear, and you can see the glimmer of coins in the shallow bottom of the pond. You should probably let the groundskeeper know to clean that out before you leave.

As you enjoy the sun from your rocky perch, a small girl runs up to the pond, her hands clutched tight to her chest. Pulling up short, she catches her breath and then clenches her eyes shut. Her lips move in a silent prayer before she rears back and flings a coin into the pond with a tremendous ‘ker-plunk’. Satisfied by the sound, she smiles, hurrying away.

You watch her leave, feeling a small pang of jealousy. For the power of belief, of course, not because she’s a small child and you don’t have one. Children are usually on the periphery of your concerns, if they ever cross your mind at all. Besides, there are plenty of children in the community who need you right now.


The persistent, awkward feeling forces you to your feet. You feel a certain draw back towards the office, as the end of the workweek is approaching and there are still a few things that would be good to get done before then. But as you move to leave the plaza, you spot a shiny coin on the ground by your feet. It’s clearly old and a little banged up, but it catches the light in such a pleasant way.

As you kneel down and pick it up, you can feel the roughness of the surface and a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You glance back at the pond, and then to the coin again, weighing your options. Would it really be so bad to try throwing the coin in and making a wish?

A slight feeling of unexplainable excitement takes over your body. You haven’t felt this invigorated since your first campaign, and even still this is somehow different. Your entire body feels like it’s on edge, as though something monumental were about to occur.

Holding the coin tight you decide to:

>A. Wish to be able to seem and act more mature
>B. Wish to for wisdom to better understand your constituents
>C. Wish for assistance in your desire to continue and grow the city
>D. Write In
>E. Pocket the coin. Adults do not make wishes


The metal tingles against your fingers as your thumb circles the circumference of the coin. A few different ideas whir in your head, but s soon as you decide on one of them, it slips past your lips without warning.

“Canterlot City is getting new people all the time. I wish I would be able to better understand peoples’ changing wants, needs, and expectations.”

With a small flick of your thumb, the coin tumbles end over end and lands with a pleasant, hollow ‘thump’. Your smile lingers for half a second more, before a rush of shame overtakes the pleasant feelings in your heart. Making a wish in a pond, how immature! You glance around to see if anyone noticed.

Most of the people are going about, enjoying the spring day and not paying you too much mind. However that does little to dissuade the small voice in your head that replays the moment of youthful fancy again and again. As you look over the crowd again, you notice that you do have some attention, specifically from the woman at the sweet counter, the card dealer, and the old men under the tree.

The woman, likely hardly out of high school, seems somewhat irritated as she meets your eyes. The somewhat older performer simply scoffs while the pair of old men grin amongst themselves.

Weighing your options for a moment, you decide the best course of action is to disengage and quickly leave the plaza behind. Your flicking hand is still tingling and you can hear a cheery, feminine “Welcome!” as you leave.

As you hurry towards the edge of the park, your thoughts go back to the errant wish. Sure, it might not have been dignified or mature, but at least your heart had been in the right place. Understanding people is a major job for a Mayor, and acknowledging that you can use some work in that department is the first step into making actual change.

>Popular Vote [*--] (0)

With that somewhat comforting thought supporting your decision, you hurry back to the office.



“Welcome back, Mayor,” says a dark-haired, middle-aged woman, not looking up from her labor. “Did you have a nice break?”

“It was nice enough, Robin,” you reply with a smile. “How is your daughter doing?”

“Fair, I suppose,” the fifty year-old woman sighs as she pulls her eyes away from the page. “Raven is always excited about something or other going on with that Principal of hers, so she doesn’t spend much time complaining.”

“Good to hear,” you nod, and receive one in return before she returns to her duties. Robin Inkwell can be a little curt, but she usually means well. She’s also an experienced member of your team and helps to wrangle some of the newer hires.

Once in your office, you sit down and consider what events you have coming up. There are a few guests coming from out of town, individuals who are interested in your administrative style, and would like to see the results of your work. They will likely expect a pitch, and it might not hurt to give them one. There is also an upcoming house dedication for a home that local volunteers have completed building. You have been invited to attend, so it might be good to have a speech ready. And the Chamber of Commerce is having a meeting soon. It wouldn’t hurt to spend some time catching up on what has changed commercially since the last meeting.

Closing your eyes, you rub at your forehead and consider the wealth of other projects you could be spending your time on, but these three take priority. You’ll get these done at least, but what will you spend most of your time on?

>A. The administrative pitch
>B. The house dedication speech
>C. The business meeting
>D. Write In
>E. You are mentally fried. Go home.



Ultimately you decide to stick to your strengths and prepare for the meeting with the business owners in the city. In truth, not much has changed since your last meeting and you know all of them by name. However there are some interesting visitors who might be present and looking to start up ventures inside the city. You make note of their details for your possible run-in next week.

Because of the comparatively simple preparation for the business meeting, you also have some time to prepare for the housing dedication. As this is more a social than political event, you will likely be sidelined, but you draft up a simple speech, thanking the volunteers and community organizations that made it possible and hoping for additional opportunities in the future. No need to take credit where it isn’t due after all. Hopefully this will help make you a little more personable.

>Popular Vote [**-] (0)

It is well after dark by the time you finish your work for the day. Shutting down your computer and filing your papers away only takes a few minutes. With a grunt and a stretch, you heave yourself out of the comfortable chair behind your desk and gather your bag and coat over your arm for the short trip home.

As a single woman of some repute in the city, you have settled on a small, two-bedroom house in an old downtown neighborhood. It can be a little rambunctious some nights, but the location helps you feel closer to the city itself. One leftover, half-eaten carton of Chinese food and two glasses of wine later, and you prepare for bed. Tomorrow is Friday after all, and you have a couple of meetings, including a radio interview on top of general necessities. Best to be well rested for the challenges ahead!


Stepping out of the shower, you wipe your hand across the mirror and check your hair again for some sign of your very loud, very pink natural color. Once again, everything is clean and orderly, much your relief. Taking a step back, you pause to admire your reflection in the rapidly fogging glass.

Despite being in your thirties now, you have managed to maintain the slim shape you boasted back in your school days. Part of that is because your figure never came in as fully as some of the other girls, but you have small, cupable breasts and a slight swell both outward and behind below your hips. Honestly, your waist is probably your most feminine feature, tight and ever so slightly firm.

Not that anyone ever sees it. Your suits are tailored to your figure, and you sought to win the race on your own merits, not by flashing skin. But even still, you can’t help but smile as you run your fingers over the smooth, even expanse of your stomach. The glass fogs over and you sigh, and dry off.

The softness of your bed is welcome after a long day, and you curl up in an oversized t-shirt and panties. Hardly professional, but really who is going to see? The still pleasant buzz from the wine and your hurried leftover meal weighing heavily on your stomach gradually pulls you into sleep.

It was sometime during university when you stopped dreaming. Or at least, you stopped remembering your dreams, as you still wake up in a confused stupor from time to time but cannot reason out why. But tonight, something feels a little different. It isn’t so much a dream as an awkward, weightlessness, where you are aware of every inch of your body.


It’s bizarre to be sure, a sort of lucid state halfway between asleep and awake. Your body tingles in a rather pleasant way that makes you arch your back in a manner that brings back all sorts of indecent memories. Dozens of light touches press against your body, leaving you breathless, but wanting more. The question is, where are they focused?

>Choose no more than two. Double up if you like.

>A. Your head
>B. Your shoulders and back
>C. Your front
>D. Your hips and butt
>E. Between your thighs
>F. Your legs
>G. Write In



A small moan escapes your lips as you feel the tingles spread out fairly evenly across your skin. They aren’t irritating to the points of pins and needles, but rather a pleasant prickling akin your hair standing on end, but without the accompanying chill. All told, it almost feels like a sensual, feather-light touch massaging and pulling at your skin that covers your entire body, from head to toe.

Almost, at least.

For as warm and fuzzy as your body seems to be, between your legs, there is absolutely nothing going on. It would be akin to someone using an electronic body massager everywhere except where it might feel the best. Granted, if anyone had tried to force one of those wands between your thighs, you would have probably screamed and tried to smack them, but the absence of the feeling is noticeable.

The buzzing, tugging, head-filling haze continues for a long while. At least, you think it does as telling time can be difficult in a dream. But eventually it begins to concentrate in a single place. Your hands.

An unusual feeling to be certain, especially as the stimulation encourages the muscles in your fingers to react in small flexing motions. Not unpleasant, just odd. This persists for a fair amount of time, and then fades into the background until it disappears completely. Your exhausted, but mostly pleased body lapses back into sleep like an overeager teenager and so the lucid experience ends.

>/End0/



>/Begin1/

You are Mayor Mare, the Mayor of Canterlot City. After a restful, if somewhat unusual night, you wake up without the aid of an alarm clock. Overall, you feel wonderfully well-rested, with your usually tight or cramped morning muscles instead seeming to be loose and ready to take on the world. A tremendous way to start a busy day to be certain!

Swinging your legs off the side of the bed, you rock onto your feet. And nearly topple face first into the floor for your troubles. The cause: an unusual arch in your feet that naturally forces you onto the balls of your feet and tips your body weight forward. Your arms windmill about as you struggle to remember how to put your heels to the ground. After several seconds of flailing, you manage to regain a normal, flat-footed state with a sigh and a wobble.

…Wobble?

Glancing down, you feel your eyes widen as you realize an important fact. You can’t see your feet. Ah, wait, there they are, but you still needed to crane your neck forward in order to see them, which is unusual. And rather terrifying. At least enough for you to gawk at yourself and have the piece of mind to suppress the scream in your throat.

You hurriedly move over to your floor mirror to better assess the situation, and feel your anxiety rising with each step. Aside from the obvious additions to your front, your hips are swinging in a manner unbefitting a bureaucrat. Compounded with the growing, natural feeling of putting your weight on the front of your feet, you can see why you would adopt a rolling gait. And it really makes your chest bounce too.

“This is awful,” you say, shaking your head as you gaze in the free-standing mirror. Turning profile, you blanch noting that your breasts now stick out rather noticeably from your chest, the once tangerine-sized orbs now looking more like medium, or even large oranges. Giving them a small shake, you groan and try not to panic, focusing on something else instead.


Which is simple enough, but doesn’t help to alleviate your concerns. Your eyes are drawn to your arms, noting that their once formless, and even a little flabby shape has been replaced by lean, slim muscle. While not as startling as growing cup sizes overnight, it still is a cause for concern. Still, you flex them a bit and marvel at how better filling out your sleeves makes you look somehow more in-charge of the situation, even in a nightshirt.

Of course your arms aren’t the only limbs that have filled out. Below your swaying, irritating, regularly cocking hip, your thighs and legs seem to have followed a similar process to your arms. In fact, they seem to be a little fuller and tighter by comparison. The familiar nicks, cuts, and scars from years of shaving slip-ups seem to have faded. Not entirely mind you, but enough so that even your experienced eye struggles to pick them out.

You slide a finger of your smoother, ever so slightly meatier legs and shudder as the touch brings an unexpected rush of powerful sensations. Pulling your hand away, you note that it too seems to be mirroring the changes to the rest of your body. Smooth and soft to the touch, you notice that your fingernails are now quite well-kept, considering they are half-again as long as they were yesterday, and coated with a gentle, reflective gloss.

The wave of panic that has been steadily growing finally crests when you look back in the mirror and realize something horrible. Moving in for a closer look, you angle your head down towards the floor, and then lift your eyes to stare at your reflection.

Yes. Those are pink roots.

Slumping against the mirror, you ask yourself, “Could this day get any worse?”


>New Stats Unlocked
>Anxiety
>[*----]
>Being Mayor is a tough job! Certain actions taken outside of your comfort zone will naturally raise your stress level. When you reach a threshold, you will act out in a shocking manner, although this may have positive effects as well.

>Bimbo Level
>[*--] – 0 (Um, what?)
>This stat reflects how well you are fitting into a bimbo mold, and is raised by taking more bimbo-like actions. Right now you do not look the part at all.

>MILF Level
>[*--] – 0 (Just Not)
>This stat reflects how well you are fitting into a MILF mold, and is raised by taking more MILFy actions. Right now you would never be confused for a MILF.

You stare at your reflection for a while longer, noting that there are a great many other changes that have happened to you. Unfortunately it is difficult to process them when you have already seen so much. Instead of focusing on yourself, your mind whirrs with other concerns.

What could have caused this? Do you need to see a doctor? What about your meetings, should you cancel them? Will any of your clothes fit? Do you have any hair dye on hand, or a hat? Should you just stay home?

You feel your glossy fingers nails press into the side of your head and the slight pain brings you back to reality. Taking a deep breath, you give the mirror a determined glare and nod your head.

“Okay, I can manage this. First things first.”

>After your morning rituals and breakfast, you will have time for one activity before your first meeting. What would you like to do? (Pick One)

>A. Dye your hair
>B. Call your tailor
>C. Call your doctor

>Additionally, what will you do about your meetings and interview today? (Pick One)
>D. Attend in person
>E. Feign sick, call them off
>F. Teleconference

>Write-ins will be considered if you can swing them.




“Okay, you are going to work today,” you explain to your reflection with a quick nod. A day off might give you some time to better explore what happened, and deal with the fallout, but your absence would be noticed on a day like today. You only need to deal with this for one day, right?

Your first thought is to pick up your phone and call your physician. It rings for a good little while before a groaning voice picks up on the other end. “Stable.”

“Doctor, it’s the Mayor.”

There is a rustling of sheets and clothes as the man on the other side of the phone shifts. “Mayor? Good morning, I suppose. Is everything all right?”

“No, not at all,” you admit, looking into the mirror and scowling. “I seem to have woken up a little, swollen, today.”

“Ah.” More rustling and a clearing of the throat, accompanied by a weary sigh. “Okay. Is the swollen site painful?”

“No.” You bite your tongue and resist the urge to add that the steady sway of your shirt rubbing against your bare breasts is actually quite pleasant.

“Good, good. So, what area specifically is swollen?”

“Would you believe me if I said all over?”

“Not especially,” Doctor Stable replies with a chuckle, his usual good cheer finally breaking through the haze of sleep. “Bodies don’t just swell up overnight.”

“Well, mine has. Quite impressively to be honest.”

You explain some of the changes you have noticed so far, and bring up the feeling you felt last night. It takes about thirty minutes all told, a fair amount of which is incredulous responses from the good doctor as he wrestles with your experience.

After you finish, there is a lengthy silence before the doctor sighs. “Okay. I trust your judgment in knowing something is unusual your body and you have managed to pique my interest. I can make time to see you this afternoon. Would that work for you?”



Mentally running down the day’s events, you nod your head. “My schedule is a little busy today, but I can shift some things around to the morning.”

“Great. One o’clock?”

“Outstanding. Thank you Doctor Stable.”

“Of course, Mayor. Now, I would like you to pay special attention to the way your body moves and feels before our appointment. I realize you may have a lot on your mind, but the more details you can give me about what you are experiencing, the better. Understood?”

“Of course. See you this afternoon.”

The two of you exchange your goodbyes and you heave a sigh of relief. Well, that’s one issue that you’ve managed. Glancing at your reflection again, your lips twitch in disgust at the sight of the pink roots peeking out from your otherwise grey hair. You just can’t manage another hour to take care of your hair, it would throw off your entire day!

So you settle on wearing a hat today, and resolve to take care of the roots later and you thoroughly wash your hair in preparation during your shower. In the process, some of the less obvious changes made themselves known.

The way the water pounded on your now gently defined back muscles was surprising, but not unpleasant. Sliding your fingers over your neck and shoulders, you were able to appreciate the slender but firm aesthetic they were both now sporting. While you were taking a moment to appreciate the small light in an otherwise dark situation, your body instinctively rose onto the balls of your feet again.

This was not a good idea on the already slick surface of the bathtub. You took a tumble, landing on your backside, a now gently padded affair that helped to keep your tailbone from bruising. Spending a few minutes on the floor as the water rained down on you, you felt a feeling of dread as you consider what comes next.


Dressing yourself proves to be a major challenge. Your figure just isn’t what it used to be, and the fitted clothes are all wrong now.

Your shoulders are a touch too wide, and they strain your suit coat. The sleeves aren’t much better, feeling very snug around your arms. The worst part is your chest, of course, as you can almost see a small gap between the buttons as they struggle to keep you decent.

The skirt is better, but only slightly. Your hips fill out the once loose fabric to a startling degree, making it almost skin-tight when coupled with the curvature of your rump. Your thighs are forced together, and you can feel the heat from the two of them rubbing constantly. A fact made worse the constant whisper of your dark hosiery as they glide against one another. Hopefully the fullness of your thighs won’t cause them to tear during the day…

It’s a challenge, but ultimately your clothes do fit. And you find a pair of short wedge heels that fit your current predisposition to walk on the balls of your feet. Add a wide brimmed hat, and you almost look like yourself, rather than a sexual parody of a office lady.

As you apply a thin sheen of makeup, you note that even your face has not escaped whatever is going on. Brighter eyes, smoother lines around your eyes and lips, and even a slight puffiness to your mouth. You sigh and shake your head, resolving to discuss this with Doctor Stable later.

You arrive at the office without incident, although you do get some long stares from your more seasoned staff. Robin in particular. But, they don’t ask any questions and you go about your day.


The meetings are relatively simple, just signing off on and reaching new agreements. It’s more to make you look sincerely engaged. Which you are, but it can never hurt to pad your interest.

What really has you thinking is your mid-morning interview with the local radio personality, Long Play. An ‘acquaintance’ from your time at school, he became something of a shock jock after graduation and earned a fair amount of infamy. He has since calmed down, so he says, although his roguish streak still makes itself known from time to time. He also knows you pretty well and may be interested in your changes. How are you going to handle him?

>A. Play it straight. You’re the Mayor, act the part!
>B. Try to distract him from awkward questions about yourself
>C. Play sneaky and try to get out of the interview early
>D. Why not do a phone interview from your office instead?
>E. Write In



After wrestling with the best way to handle the situation, you decide to just go about your day as if nothing is wrong. It’s not that obvious, is it? You make the short walk through downtown to the local radio station, trying to ignore the handful of stares coming your way.

The young woman who leads you to the studio doesn’t spare you a second glance, but she is a young woman, a co-ed most likely, who is more wrapped up in her phone than in the world around her. Long Play, however, is not quite so easily swayed.

“Wow!” he declares, hopping up from his seat as the engineer leads you into the room during a break. The table rattles with the sudden movement, nearly sending his phone clattering to the floor, rescued only by the redhead’s quick hands. “Mare, I gotta say, you are looking great today!”

You smirk a little at his attempt to bait you. While not exactly classically handsome, Long Play does have a certain appeal himself. Were you ten or fifteen years younger, you might have fallen hard for his leather jacket and rough but sharp features. He holds his hands up to frame you and squints, as though lost in thought. Chewing on his lip, he asks, “You did something different today, right?”

“It’s good to see you too, Play.” Your reply is dry enough to make him drop his hands back to his side. Once he does, you offer a small smile. “Thank you for always taking the time to have me on the show.”

“Yeah, of course,” the older man says with a small wave of his hand as he smirks. “No offense, but having you on the show once a month isn’t such a bad thing either. So, what’s the occasion, or did you get gussied up just for me?”

“Nothing of the sort,” you laugh and shake your head, pulling up a seat near the microphone across the table. “I am here to talk about Canterlot City. That’s all.”


“Alright, alright,” Long Play grumbles and sits back down in his chair. “So we’ll do this the same as usual: I’ll ask you a few floaters about how things are going downtown, we chat a bit, and then take some calls. Sound good?”

“Perfect.” Settling down into your seat, you flinch a little as a flash erupts near your head. You turn towards the engineer, who is smiling with his phone camera out, a look mirrored by the man on the other side of the table. “What was-”

“Five, four, three,” comes a voice from the other side of the glass as you are left alone in the studio with Long Play. He straightens up and leans a little closer to his microphone.

“Welcome back to the Lunch Hour.” The man’s voice is liquid smooth, sending unconscious shivers down your spine. “As usual, our guest today is Mayor Mare, who joins us on the last Friday of every month. Thanks for coming out, Mare.”

“It’s always a pleasure for me too.” Despite your words, you have to force a smile. Even though this is a radio show, you check your sunhat to make sure it’s still in place. “Thank you for hosting me.”

“Of course, of course. So, as some of you may remember, Mare and I go back almost twenty years and did some time in school together.” You raise an eyebrow, to which Play smirks. “But I have to say, I don’t think you’ve ever looked quite as good as you do today.”

Ah, there it is. You sigh and smile wider. “I’m sure it’s just the lighting.”

“Well, we can let the listeners decide for themselves, right? We’ll be posting a picture of the Mayor to our social media accounts shortly. Hit us up with a response and let us know what you think of her style!”


The color drains from your face, which brings a delighted smile to Long Play’s lips.

>Anxiety
>[**---]

“Anyway, now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how about you tell us what’s going on in City Hall.” He leans forward, seeming genuinely interested. “What big projects do you have on the horizon?”

You have a couple projects on your plate right now. What in particular do you want to talk about?

>A. Partnerships with local non-profit organizers
>B. Outside businesses who are signed on to open in Canterlot City
>C. Mayoral Office Transparency
>D. Adjustments to the traffic grid
>E. Write in

Further, do you wish to continue playing it straight, or change up your tactic?
>1. Straight
>2. New Approach (which?)



“Well, let me start by saying that I am considering asking the city council to look into expanding a local ordinance they passed last year, regarding unsolicited photographs?” You let the question hang in the air for a moment and flash Long Play a smile. “But I do have to wonder if it’s necessary.”

The redhead lets out a strangled cough and grins. “I, uh, would say so. Just say the word Mayor and we’ll be happy to take the photo down.”

“If it’s already up, it’s already up,” you say with a weary sigh. “I do appreciate your hosting me, but let’s make sure we are on the same page going forward, okay?”

Long Play gives a few words of affirmation, and you go back to business-as-usual. “As far as politics, I am always happy to see members of the community being active. That is part of how I got my start after all so local organizing is something I keep a close eye on.”

“Really? Then who has your eye right now?”

“Well, Canterlot High School is organizing a clothing drive next weekend. I hear they have a very fashionable and civic minded young woman heading the organization of the event.”

“Ah, CHS. That brings back memories,” Play laughs and nods his head. “Maybe we can have someone from the school come on the show with us next week and promote it?”

“You would need to ask the school yourself.” Your smile comes easier now. “Donations will be going to various locations, including our local community centers. And of course Crystal Prep will be having their Spring Benefit toward the middle of next month.”

“I think I remember seeing something about that. It’s for cleaning up the streets, right? Doesn’t that seem like a job for the police?”

A polite laugh passes your lips as you shake your head. “I think it’s more for bringing attention to prescription abuse. That is something we could stand to focus on some more ourselves.”


“Too true, too true,” Long Play nods, with all the wisdom of a man who spent several years putting who-knows-what into his body. “Anything else?”

You spend a few minutes more talking about upcoming non-profit ventures and how they are tied to the city. All told, the entire bit carries on for about ten minutes before Play gives you a hand sign to wrap things up. When you finish your thought, he cuts in.

“Very good stuff, Mare. Would you be willing to hang around after the break and take some calls?”

“I believe you have me for thirty minutes a month, Play. I won’t cut our time short.”

“Outstanding. Well then we’ll be back in a little bit with our Mayor Mare and your questions, so call in now.” He gives the station number twice and then signs off. Once you are off the air, you sigh and give him a strained look, to which he replies with a smile. “I’ve got it Mare, relax. No more candid camera.”

“I appreciate it.” A member of the station comes in with some water, which you gladly take. As you take a few short gulps, you see Long Play scrolling through his phone, grinning. That can only mean trouble. “Did you find something good to spring on me at the start of the segment?”

 “Nah, I told you I learned my lesson.” He does however push the screen in your direction. “But, you might want to take a look at this.”

You roll your eyes and lean in to get a better look. Of course, it’s the photo of you as you were seated. The shot is done in profile however, making the lines of your body very apparent. And the comments have taken notice.

“Our Mayor looks like T H A T?”
“Mayor Milkies!”
“How does she fit in that suit?”
“THICC”


Landing somewhere between flustered and furious, you give Long Play a withering glare. The redhead keeps his cheeky smile and takes the phone back. “It’s blowing up. I told you that you look good.”

“I’m not happy about this,” you say, feeling uncertain in your response.

“I know, I know. I’ve had my fun. Tell you what, we’ve got some callers on the line already, and we know their topics. You let me know what you want to talk about, and we’ll give them the lion’s share of airtime, okay?”

You aren’t really in a position to refuse, considering you are back on your heels after the wave of positive comments on social media. Once you accept his offer, Long Play lays out the issues from which you can pick.

>A. Policies protecting young children
>B. Park preservation and expansion
>C. Something about the busses
>D. A local business owner wants to speak
>E. Actually, pick one at random
>F. Write-in

Continue your straight-forward focus?
>1. Yes
>2. No (switch to what?)



You ultimately decide to go for what looks like a simple call, regarding protections for young children. Putting your bottled water aside, you smooth out your jacket as the on-air countdown begins, sitting up a little straighter in your chair as the sound engineer points at Long Play and the intro music cues up again.

“Alright, welcome back folks. Now we’ve got the call-in portion of the monthly chat with Canterlot City’s own Mayor Mare. We have Victoria on the line, hello.”

“Hello?” the voice echoes back, causing both you and Long Play to smile.

“Yes, hello Victoria, I am glad to hear from you,” you reply. “What did you want to ask about?”

There is a brief pause before the woman begins. “Hello to you Mayor, and you as well Mr. Play. My son is a big fan. In any case, I was wondering what kind of procedures Canterlot City has in place for child abduction.”

A quick, anxious burst of air escapes your lips as you and Long Play look at one another. This, is a little more involved than policy. But, the cat is out of the bag now, and you decide to answer it as best you are able, adding in a little bit of a softer touch to try and make this as easy to digest as possible.

“Thank you Victoria. I’m guessing that you yourself have a young child?” The woman gives an affirmative response and you nod your head. “Well I can certainly understand wanting to keep the vulnerable members of our community safe. This is an issue that is handled largely by the police, but Canterlot City has made strides towards improving preventative steps.”

You go on to detail how additional funding has been allocated to child protections under your administration, and changes in ordinances that provide children with more security from a legal standpoint. There isn’t really too much that you can offer though, as this is a law enforcement issue, rather than a political one. Still, you try to end on a strong note.


“But, I think the most important thing that we can do is make sure that we, as a community, are vigilant and aware of what is going on around us. The programs are wonderful and helpful, but if the community fails to take advantage of them, they can be a little hampered.” You pause, and then add, “If you would like my office can be in touch with you about setting up a meeting with one of the officers in our children protection department.”

“I would like that very much, Mayor Mare! Thanks for speaking with me today.”

You heave an inward sigh and slouch back in your chair for a moment. Long Play does a little bit to wrap up the call and then motions for you sit back up. You’ve still got another ten minutes to go…

Thankfully, none of the other calls are quite as robust as that one. A girl named Glory asks about options for petitioning the city council for additional park funding, which you happily answer, and a baker called Miss Cake has a brief follow up to Victoria’s question as the time is too short to get to her actual question.

“Well, that’s all the time we have. Thanks for coming out to see us today, Mayor.”

“As always, it’s a pleasure,” you chuckle, your smile clearly forced as you cast a wary eye towards the microphone. Long Play gives a small laugh of his own and nods.

“Then we look forward to having you back in the studio next month. As for me, I’ll be back after a short break.”

And, time. You shoulders sag even as you feel the imaginary burden being lifted from them. The redhead across from you offers a weary smile as he gets to his feet. Holding out his hand, he gives you a quick nod. “Thanks again Mare. No hard feelings about the photo?”

“Just don’t show me those comments, again,” you smirk, taking his hand and giving it a firm shake as you rise to your feet.


“Yeah, uh,” he mutters, his eyes clouding for a moment before he asks, “but, you look really nice today.”

With a scoff, you roll your eyes, “Please, don’t try to butter me up, Play. You’re this close to being on my bad side.”

“No, it’s…” as you pull your hand away, he shakes he head again and grins. “Sorry, it’s nothing. Anyway, if there’s something you need me to do, like get the word out on something big, just say the word and I’ll see what I can do.”

Giving the older man a sidelong stare, you nod and smile. “Sure, I’ll keep that in mind.”

As you leave the studio, you can hear him start to pace and grumble to himself for some reason. Bizarre. Despite some awkward stumbles, you actually feel pretty comfortable about how the interview went. You keep your head high on the way back to the office.

 >MILF Level
>[**-] – 0 (Just Not)

>Perfectly Professional
>[**-] (0) – Slightly Unkempt

>Popular Vote
>[***] (0 > 1) – Social Stranger > Casual Mention
>If the election were held today, it might lean your way. People are beginning to see you as more authentic than just a politician. Those outside your voting base are slow to warm up to you, but may be accepting of some of your ideas.

The staff at the office greet you with a few kind words. It seems they are grateful that you managed to make it through the interview without making too much extra work for them. Robin has already been in contact with Miss Veronica and the CCPD, and is working to organize a time and place for a meeting to occur.

As for yourself, it’s just about lunchtime, and then you have your appointment with Doctor Stable. What would you like to do?

>A. Have a quick lunch and head down to the Doctor’s Office, your health is very important!
>B. Go downtown for lunch and rub elbows with some of the local business owners
>C. Meet someone for lunch (Possible Options: Spoiled Rich, Robin, Others)
>D. See if you can call your tailor and have her squeeze you in for lunch
>E. Check on the radio station’s social media again…
>F. Write In



While it would be nice to having a working lunch, you really are concerned about the changes that have happened to your body. Just as worrisome is the fact that you have felt somewhat normal, aside from the steady pulling in your chest, for most of the day. These two facts are enough to push your visit to Doctor Stable to the top of your to-do list.

You stop by a café a block away from your office, intending to stay just long enough to enjoy a light sandwich. Unfortunately they are a little short-staffed today, leaving you with a few minutes to spare while they get your lunch together. As you wait, tapping your foot against the floor, your thoughts flash back to the incident at the studio, where Long Play had shown you the responses to your picture.

“That was awful,” you grumble to yourself, tapping your foot a little harder as you glare ahead. But the thought doesn’t leave, if anything your memory of the words on the screen grows even clearer. How degrading they had been.

Still, it had you curious. You were more of an over-looker throughout most of your life, and so the experience of being objectified is, somewhat refreshing. In the same sense that walking out in a humid day makes your bare skin feel slick, but also clammy. That mental image isn’t enough to stop you from reaching into your pocket and pulling out your phone. Your manicured fingernails tap against the screen as you navigate to the stations’ account.

Ah, there you are, pinned at the top of the page. Not even an hour removed from when it was uploaded, and you’ve already managed to garner eight thousand likes. And hundreds of comments as well. You don’t pay much attention to social media, but that’s good, right?

Out of curiosity, you tap on the comment tab. And immediately regret it. Requests to be stepped on or worse, compliments about your ‘milk tanks’, and more robust descriptions of what they would like to do to you. Social media really can be filthy. Shuddering you pocket your phone and take your sandwich, eating as you walk towards your car. On the way, you catch yourself squeezing your thighs together a few times and again curse this digital age.

The drive to Doctor Stable’s clinic is quick, and the building itself is relatively empty. A bright eyed, round-faced nurse greets you from behind the counter. “Oh, Miss Mayor. We weren’t expecting you for at least another hour.”

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m a little tense,” comes your anxious admission, “but I really would like to see the doctor as soon as possible.”

“He thought you might,” the nurse says with an understanding nod. “With that in mind, he left us with some instructions if you came by early. Would you like to get started?”

You agree, and the nurse nods, motioning another of her coworkers over. They take over the desk as the chubby woman leads you back into an examination room. She shuts the door behind you and goes to get some gloves. “In case you’re wondering, my name is Nurse Sweetheart, and Doctor Stable just asked me to give you a general checkup and get some measurements. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine, please,” you insist. Nurse Sweetheart nods and sets to work. Meanwhile, you:

>A. Let her do her work in silence
>B. Make small talk (anything in particular?)
>C. Talk about your experience and try to establish a baseline
>D. Write-In

After she leaves, you will still have some time before Doctor Stable arrives. How will you fill that time?

>1. Catch up on emails
>2. Schedule a meeting with your tailor
>3. Check on social media again
>4. Write-In

[Checking your luck – evens]



You sit in an awkward silence for a few minutes as Nurse Sweetheart is checking your blood pressure on the examination table. Once the cuff relaxes, she smiles up at you. “So, Doctor Stable says you’ve been experiencing some swelling, but no pain. Is that still the case?”

“Right, no pain,” you repeat, biting your lip as the nurse scribbles away on her tablet. “So, have you been working for the doctor very long?”

“A couple of years,” Sweetheart admits, turning your head from side to side as she checks your eyes and ears. “Can I check your mouth?”

“Sure.” You open wide and she looks inside, making a small sound of approval. “Everything look okay?”

“So far so good,” she responds. “It’s a nice job, the patients are not too demanding, and Doctor Stable is very nice.”

“He is at that.” Another lapse into silence. “So, has it been busy today?”

The nurse giggles and continues tapping. “You saw the waiting room; it’s been like that for over two hours. Like I said, our patients are not too demanding and tend to take good care of themselves.”

A few more checks and Nurse Sweetheart leans back, staring intently at the tablet. She taps it a few times more, and looks back and forth between the screen and your face, as though struggling to figure something out. Finally, she shrugs and smiles. “Well, you seem healthy. I’ll let the doctor give you the full run down.”

“Just a moment.” Your voice cuts through the air as Sweetheart reaches for the door handle. A pair of big blue eyes turn back to face you, freckled cheeks bunched up in a confused pout. “Everything is fine?”

“Mhmm, better than fine,” Sweetheart says with a smile. “In fact, you seem to be doing quite well.”

“Oh, that’s good I suppose.” Gulping loudly, you fan yourself as you feel a sudden rush of heat. “Sorry, today has just been so strange. I guess I’m a little worked up.”


The nurse gives you an apologetic smile and walks over, placing a hand on your knee. “Don’t you worry, Mayor. Doctor Stable is very good at what he does. He’s one of the best GP’s in the city!”

“That’s why I come see him,” you smile, swallowing again. Just as you begin to feel the tension in your belly start to unwind, you notice Nurse Sweetheart staring at you intently again. Only this time, there is something sharper in her eyes. “…Nurse?”

“Mayor, are you feeling faint?” She asks, placing a hand against your neck. She flinches, biting her lip and tilting your chin up towards the ceiling. “How’s your eyesight? Lightheadedness?”

“No, I, just feel warm. And thirsty.”

“Have you been hydrating today?”

“I.” The words catch in your throat as you see the nurse becoming more intense by the moment. Taking a deep breath, you declare, “I just want to see Doctor-”

PING!

“…Ping?”


The nurse pulls her eyes away from yours as you both stare at the small table on the other side of the room, where an object rattles noisily as it settles into place. Clear, small, with four holes punched in the middle. A button.

Glancing down at your shirt, you see that there is a very noticeable line of cleavage that wasn’t visible before. You can hear the button above it strain in the dead silence of the examination room.

“I, I’m going to get Doctor Stable,” Nurse Sweetheart whispers, giving you a polite nod before hurrying out of the room. The door closes just in time for your second button to pop free and go flying.

Great.

Having already shed your coat, unbuttoning your shirt is relatively easy. It now hangs loose around your shoulders, barely covering your braless chest. Your steadily bulging forward chest. Your face is conflicted as you watch more and more of the round flesh move past the fabric confines keeping you decent. On the one hand, this is absolutely fascinating. The larger, more reasonable part of you, realizes this is not normal. And there’s also the part complaining about a ruined shirt.

With that in mind, you pick up your phone from your coat and call your tailor.

“Lace Rose Collections,” comes a tired voice on the other side of the line.

“Inky, I need a fitting. This afternoon.”

There is a lengthy pause before she asks, “Mayor? Is that you?”

“Yes, and I have an emergency. Now can you see me or not?” You hug your arm around your chest and flinch as a small, girlish sound dies in your throat. Even your high thread count shirt seems to pull against your nipples with a pleasant pain.

“I think I can squeeze you in, maybe in an hour but-”

“That’s fine I’ll see you then.”


Your phone chirps and the call ends. You stare at your now breasts, now each easily melon-sized but stable. The minutes tick by as you wait, and eventually you take out your phone. There is a valiant attempt made to keep up on the emails going back and forth between your staffers, but your mind is just being pulled in too many directions right now.

But at last the door opens. Your phone is quickly shoved back into your coat as you give the door an expectant stare. The brown-headed Doctor Stable walks in with a cheery smile, not quite looking in your direction.

“Sorry about the delay Mayor, but you were a little early. Now, let’s take a look at-”

When he turns, his voice falls flat. His eyes immediately lock onto your oversized breasts, now half-exposed to the world. You try to keep your breathing shallow, hoping that the less movement you make, the sooner he will snap out of his daze. But it doesn’t seem to be happening.

>A. Grab his hand and pull it to your chest, insisting on his help
>B. Just wait for him to pass through the moment
>C. Speak up and try to call him back to reality sooner
>D. Write-in



Enough is enough. Today has been an extremely stressful day, for entirely unusual reasons. It might be rude, but you honestly can’t take this anymore!

“Hey. Hey!” you snap, first with your voice and then with your fingers. Leaning forward you crack thumb and middle finger together repeatedly in front of Doctor Stable’s face. “Will you stop staring at me and just tell me what’s wrong!?”

The man coughs, adjusting his glasses and shaking his head. “I, my apologies, Mayor Mare. It’s just that you caught me a little off guard.”

“I don’t see why.” Dropping back onto the examination table, you shift your shirt so that it still manages to keep you decent. “I told you this morning, I’ve experienced some unusual swelling.”

“Yes, uh, I can see that now.” Doctor Stable looks down at his own tablet, occasionally lifting his eyes towards the vertical line of exposed flesh. Each time he doesn’t look you in the eye, you point at him as severely as you can manage, and he looks back that the readout in his hand. At last, he speaks up. “Well, according to everything we have here: you’re perfectly fine.”

Feeling your patience wearing ever thinner, you cup the bottoms of your breasts and make a show as if you are presenting them. “This? You expect me to believe this is perfectly fine? I just exploded out of my shirt in your office!”

That gets the doctor’s attention. He meets your eyes with a look somewhere between anger, curiosity, and uncertainty. “Aside from the obvious, you are fine. In fact, I would say you’ve markedly improved since your last checkup.”

Turning the tablet around, he points to a few key metrics. “Your blood pressure is down, as is your pulse, not to mention some of the other concern points we had regarding your vision and hearing, they all seem to be either resolved, or steadily improving.”


The numbers, they really don’t mean that much to you, but it is obvious that there has been a substantial change. You look up at the doctor. “So my pre-hypertension?”

“If things remain consistent, it’s a non-issue.”

You sit back on the examination table and consider that bit of information. Doctor Stable has been trying to get you onto medication for the past two years. Something like that doesn’t just disappear without warning. And you haven’t made any major adjustments to your lifestyle either.

“So, that’s the medical side of things,” Doctor Stable concludes, pulling up a chair and sitting down across from you. “Now, what would you say has happened to you, Mayor?”

You tell him about your experience, the floating, the tingling, and then the sudden growing. How nothing fit you right, and even how your roots grew out overnight. Doctor Stable nods, continuing to write down notes and asking for clarification when he needs it.

“And, prior to this latest, well, surge of growth, did you feel anything?”

“Breathless? Hot?” You huff and shake your head. “Doctor Stable, what does it matter if I was feeling something?”

“You may be contagious,” the doctor says, without batting an eye, although he does give you a pointed stare. Oh dear.

>A. Reply indignantly
>B. Listen to what he has to say
>C. Try to coerce your way out of a night stay (how?)
>D. Write-in



“I won’t be staying overnight,” you declare, giving the doctor a long stare. “I have too much going on, I can’t just put my life on hold.”

“Okay, and here’s my counter offer. Imagine this headline: Mayor of Canterlot City causes outbreak of unknown disease because she wouldn’t stop working.”

The two of you fall silent, staring at one another. A battle of wills. Finally, you sigh and glance away. “Fine. As much as I dislike the idea, what do you suggest?”

“Quarantine, for a period of one week.”

“One week!” you snap, nearly jumping to your feet. “You want me to be under observation for a week!?”

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with,” Doctor Stable fires back, his brow furrowing. “As far as I’m concerned this is something entirely new. I mean, how do you even grow on the spot like that? It’s not biologically possible!”

“Then it can be a biological vector, can it?” Your snap response is just as quick as the doctor’s, and the two of you resume the stare down. “If it isn’t viral, bacterial, or parasitic, what can medicine do to help?”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all,” the doctor says, even as your lip curls into a victorious smile.

“Neither does blasting through cup sizes by the hour.”

There is another lengthy silence, although this time Doctor Stable does not meet your eyes. He’s too focused on the tablet in front of him. After a solid minute, he sighs and shakes his head. “Regardless of how impossible this seems, there must be a medical explanation for it. You could infect other people, so quarantine-”

“Will. Not. Work.” Your proclamation hangs in the air for a moment as you catch the older doctor’s gaze. “Doctor Stable, do you know how many hands I’ve shaken today? How many people I’ve been in the room with before you?”


When he doesn’t reply, you fix him with a stare. “I’m the Mayor of Canterlot City, I can’t even begin to remember everyone I meet in a day. Much less who my guests go to meet after they leave. Will you go and track them down too? And their co-workers, and friends and family members? And again, and again on down?”

When he doesn’t respond, you speak his thoughts aloud. “Quarantine doesn’t mean keeping me here for a week, it means shutting down the entire city. And that’s not something you, or I, or anyone short of the government can even hope to do.”

Settling back onto the examination table, you let out a weary sigh as you consider the reality of the situation. Doctor Stable’s proposed headline, if you are contagious, has already been written in stone. He has nothing to gain by keeping you here.

And you may have already lost everything.

>Anxiety
>[***--]

“So,” you finally ask, “if we can’t quarantine whatever this is, what’s the next best step?”

“Understanding what you’re experiencing,” the doctor replies with a frown. “Aside from some, obvious physical differences, you’re at least as healthy as some athletes I see. I’m actually envious.”

You offer a wry smile and shrug, so the doctor continues. “If you’re not experiencing any other negative effects, then it would just be a matter of managing the physical symptoms. Can you keep a report over the weekend and come see me again on Monday? We can check on your progress at that time, and any other individuals who are affected should be making themselves known by that point.”

Finally, compromise. With a weary sigh, you nod your head and finally relax. “That, I can do.”

“Just, try to avoid physical contact with others,” Doctor Stable offers. “Enclosed spaces? I would still like to limit the possible spread of infection.”

>A. Agree to try to avoid contact
>B. Decline as it is too difficult
>C. Get up close to him and ask for clarity
>D. Offer him a handshake
>E. Write in

>/End1/