>You are Crystal Chime.
>At least, that’s who you’d been for about three years.
>You were a small, pink pony, with a little red bell on your flank.
>You had wings and a golden-blonde curly mane that fell in ringlets down around your face.
>The only downside to the mess was that you couldn’t figure out how to make anything work with hooves, and your companion was no help.
>You were currently whiling away your time playing board games with him, and you were losing.
>He already had his characters picture in the frame and was almost to the front door, meanwhile he had just gotten your last character onto a trap, and you were positive he had the trap card for it.
>”Gotcha Crystal!” He yells triumphantly, and slaps down the trap card.
>The switch is flipped, and poor Poopsie gets mashed to bits under the chandelier.
>You throw your cards into the air and flop onto your back in defeat.
“Damnit! I never win at this!”
>He laughs and starts picking up the pieces.
>”That’s not true Crystal, you won in real life.”
>You look around at the opulent and expensive living room you had been playing the game in.
>He was right.
>Your great-grandfather on your mother’s side had finally decided to kick the bucket, and had left his considerable inheritance to you on the stipulation that you never give any of it to anyone else in the family, and never let any of them on the estate with your knowledge.
>The will you had received read: “Being of sound mind I can’t give anything to any of my wives because they couldn’t kill me before old age took any of them. Same for my siblings, who were all Rat bastards the lot of them. Except Percy. I still have the scar on my temple, Percy, you clever tit. My children all disappointed me, so they don’t get anything either, no matter how poverty-stricken any of them are. I don’t care if it’s 50 below zero outside, you should have thought of that before you became a pauper! Their kids all sucked and I hate their generation, so I’m ignoring them. You can have my money when you retroactively remove the Beatles from existence you bindlesniffers! Your kids, though… I’m dying so one of them gets it, on the condition that the one I give it to never gives any of it to anyone else in the family, never allows any of you inside my estate, and never uses the money to buy anything that could reach any of you cunt-spackled, tripe-wiping, flap-wheedling barnacles! On that note, Synonymous gets it. He spends all his time on that internet thing and I expect nothing to come of him. I’ve wasted my money my entire life, and Synonymous, you better keep wasting it! Godspeed you useless meat sack. –Great Grandpa Aegis.
>You couldn’t complain, as the man was pretty much spot on with his assessment of you.
>He and you probably wouldn’t have even gotten along if you’d met in person, because you were two peas in a pod.
>You both hated your entire family, and weren’t inclined to give anything to any of them.
>But, as he was dying, he saw fit to make sure nothing he owned was lost, and left it to you, all in this one amazing mansion.
>The house was in the English countryside, with no staff, no groundskeepers that you had seen at all, and no one within a dozen kilometers at least.
>Gramps was loaded, but still a cheap bugger.
>You’d gone looking around the estate after you’d arrived.
>You wandered from room to room, and you’d been immediately struck by how everything was kept so well with no one seeming to take care of it.
>You hadn’t found any reason for why you had food available, but it was always there for meal time.
>When you got up in the morning, later on in the day the bed was made.
>You’d hunted for secret passages but couldn’t find any, so you’d been chalking it up to magic in frustration.
>Then you’d found a massive and ornate wardrobe in one of the rooms.
>Thoughts of Narnia in your head, you popped it open and crawled into the mothball-scented mess for a lark.
>To your immediate chagrin and amusement, you hadn’t found Narnia, but you’d found your only friend here.
>Trouble was, the wardrobe had spat you back out with him, only you’d been turned into a pony with wings.
>Your friend, as such he could be called, was a satyr.
>Not quite Narnia.
>His name was Filip, as he had said, and he was here to be your friend.
>You’d gotten used to him, and your pony body over time, and your wings were pretty dexterous by themselves, so it wasn’t incredibly inconvenient.
>Your wings worked almost like hands, really.
>You’d practiced flying outside, to make sure your wings got exercise.
>Flying over the estate was amazing, and the sheer rush of being so high and free was incredibly.
>After the initial shock wore off, Filip explained that the estate was magical, explaining everything strange you’d encountered.
>Anything you wanted within reason, would be provided.
>Food, clothes, money, anything you could think of.
>Magic wi-fi, too.
>And best of all, you had a totally legit reason for not sharing any of it!
>Grampa Aegis was awesome.
>You really would have liked to be a human again, though, as you couldn’t really go anywhere like this.
>There was all this money you could spend on yourself, and you couldn’t leave.
>Maybe you wanted to go to a theme park alone!
>You’d looked for ways to turn back.
>You’d tried the wardrobe again, but all it did was spit you back out.
>Literally, like, you’d climb in, it would make a grinding noise, then you’d be tossed out with a *hack* sound, to ungracefully land on your tail.
>Seems like it only turns people into ponies.
>Filip was no help, either.
>He was here to be a companion, and that was great, but he said Grampa Aegis never told him any of the house secrets.
>You think you almost had it, though.
>It had taken three years of research and searching, but you might have a chance now.
>It was just a matter of waiting until the right time of day.
>Long story short, you’d found a book in the library that detailed one of the portraits in the living room that came alive during twilight hours.
>It could supposedly grant wishes, but you had to offer the badger in the painting the right item.
>It didn’t make sense, but it was magic.
>Whatcha gonna do?
>The book had mentioned a “taste of the orient” that the badger liked, but that could be anything, so you’d asked the kitchen to make you all sorts of Chinese food.
>If the badger was a true gourmand, he’d find something he liked.
>Oh yeah, and the kitchen could make you anything you wanted.
>Kitchen was pretty cool.
>You never go inside, though.
>He was… delicate.
>Filip pokes you and you’re pulled from your reverie as the sun disappears from the window.
>You stand up and look over at the painting expectantly.
>It was an elaborate mess, depicting something you’d expect from a Redwall novel.
>All sorts of forest creatures engaging in a bevy of activities, from combat and eating, all the way to interspecies intercourse.
>The badger, dominating the bottom-left corner, was eating of course.
>He had six weasel women waiting on him, bringing him dishes and dishes of food, and he was absolutely massive, with his greasy stomach sticking out of his striped shirt.
>As you watch, twilight begins.
>Slowly, like an old VHS beginning to play, the painting jerks into motion.
>Fights start, sex resumes, and your little friend the badger begins shoving food down his gullet.
>”Go ahead, ask him.” Filip urges from behind you.
>Not sure what to say to a painting, you lamely begin with:
“Um, excuse me, Mr. Badger?”
>He stops eating a moment and sniffs the air, then looks out at you.
>”Hmmm… I smell foreign foods. It has been many a year, indeed. Very well. What do you wish, young horse?” He says, as he swallows a small chicken, bones and all.”
>”Yes, well, you see, I’ve been turned into a pony, and I would very much like to be human.” You tell him.
>”Is that all? Certainly. Upon the morn, you shall wake as a human.” He says.
”That’s all?” You ask.
>”That is all. And do not worry about the food, I shall take it whilst I eat.”
”Well thank you so much!” You say, clopping your hooves together.
>”You are welcome. Now leave me, I wish to eat.”
>He drinks a full tankard of some alcohol, belches, and wipes his mouth on one of the passing stoat’s aprons.
>You slowly step away from the painting and leave the food there.
>You notice one of the plates empty itself, and spare a glance back at the painting.
>Sure enough, he had a plate full of the food you had provided and was devouring it with gusto.
>He had an impressive appetite.
>If morning came and you still weren’t human, oh well, you’d only lost some food.
>You trot happily away into other parts of the house with Filip at your side, a happy bounce in your step.
>It was the first good lead on returning to normal you’d had for years, and it had paid off!
>There had been other leads, but this one was simple, direct, and best of all, it was easy!
>None of the others, obviously, had succeeded.
>”So do you think you’ll actually be human again from this one?” Filip asked.
“I hope so. I don’t know if it’ll work, but it’s promising. All I have to do is go to sleep.”
>”Well, did you want to do that immediately? Or shall we do something before then?”
“It’s still early. Want to play some Street Fighter? I can actually win at that.”
>Despite your lack of hands, your hooves and wings provide you enough limbs to play video games so long as you kept the controller on the floor.
>You move the joystick with one hoof, and use the other, along with your wings, to push the buttons on the other side.
>You had to remap everything to the right side of the controller, but you got it well enough to win.
>Playing as Karin, you easily put Filip down time and time again, but he’s always been a good sport about it.
>He warmed up to modern technology very quickly, and it wouldn’t be long before he was beating you.
>He probably learned by magic.
>After a hearty series of matches, with you only losing a few times, you yawn and decide now’s a good time to head to bed.
>One convenient part of this place is that everything you owned before fits inside a single room.
>There had been a time you tried having things in separate rooms in the mansion, but shit, that was an insane walk to get anywhere.
>Finally you decided that you’d just use a big room near one of the bathrooms and the dining room so you would be close to food and facilities.
>This all meant that you didn’t have to leave the room (which was as big as your old apartment) to go to bed!
>You hop up into your bed and curl up.
”Night Filip. Don’t forget to delete your browser history if you use my computer.”
>He blushes and doesn’t say anything.
>You’d let him use your stuff because he’d been out of it for so long.
>After a while he had proven to be even better than you at using them, so you knew he wouldn’t break anything, but you’d caught him looking at all sorts of weird-ass porn early on in your relationship.
>It was hardcore weird stuff too, and he didn’t know how to delete his browsing history, so you’d had an eyeful of ALL of it.
>You ribbed him about it still.
>It was hilarious that he still got embarrassed.
>You listened to Filip practice some more Street Fighter on the other side of the room as you drifted off.
>He’d eventually get better at it and you wouldn’t stand a chance, but he was a magical cheating bastard.
>Ah well, it was still fun.
>You fall asleep to the quiet clicking of buttons.
>In the morning, you stretch your arms languidly and smack your lips.
>You rub your eyes with your hoof…
>Yeah, that’s right! Hands!
>You excitedly open your eyes and look at your fingers!
>Oh man you’d missed having fingers!
“Haha! Yeah! Hey Filip, it worked! I’m human!”
>You jump out of bed, tossing the covers to the floor and dance a brief little jig.
>It ends when you lose your balance and fall face-first onto the floor, ass up in the air.
“Okay, balance needs work still! But nothing can ruin my enthusiasm!”
>You sit up and look around to find Filip, your curls swinging around your face.
>You see Filip, sitting on his bed with a deep flush to his face and a pillow on his lap.
“What’s wrong with you? Morning wood?”
>Wait, your voice?
>You still sounded like you had when you were a pony.
>And you still had your golden curls falling in ringlets around your face.
>…aaaand, a fist between your legs confirms Mr. Johnson was still missing.
>You try to stand up, and fail miserable.
>Your tits jiggle obscenely as you fail again and again to properly stand up.
>Why was this so difficult?
>And why were your hands in fists?
>At least you knew why Filip was sporting a massive erection.
>”I seem to recall you saying you used to be a male, Crystal. I... don’t know if my human anatomy is up to date, but I’m pretty sure you are currently female.”
>You fall down yet again.
>What the fuck?
“No shit, Sherlock. Badger pulled a Wishmaster on me. I didn’t word my wish right, and I’m paying for it. Also, it’s been forever since I walked on two legs, can you help me get to the closet? I need some clothes.”
>You give him an icy glare.
“Damnit Filip, I don’t care about your damn boner, just help me!”
>Reluctantly, he removes the pillow.
>It was usually in its sheath, so you didn’t care about him walking around naked, plus both of you hadn’t needed clothes for three years anyway.
>His member was still huge, though, and very much a horse cock.
>It flopped in your vision as he bent over to offer you a hand.
>You put your balled-up fist in his hand.
>You have to think really hard about opening your fingers before they finally do.
>This was concerning.
>He pulls you up, and pulls one of your arms around his shoulder.
>You’re up in a standing position, finally.
>You feel like your center of balance is completely off, and find your body attempting to bend over.
>You kept walking on your tip-toes as well, with your knees slightly bent unless you carefully forced them to straighten.
>As Filip takes you over to the closet, you take mental stock of yourself.
>You were human, you had a vagina and boobs, golden hair, and pale pink skin.
>He’d literally just turned you into a human version of your pony self.
>You check your ass.
>There it was, the little red bell.
>Literally a human version of your pony self.
>Fuck that guy.
>The only things you were missing were your wings and tail.
>That’s really not cool.
>He took the best parts of when you were a pony and removed them, while giving you all the negatives he possibly could.
>Okay, it shouldn’t be so bad.
>You should get used to this, right?
>Physical therapy and all that?
>Okay, worry about that later, you need to get dressed so Filip can get rid of his massive hard-on.
>Filip gets you inside the closet, and you pick out some articles of clothing you’d had hanging up for three years or so.
>This was pretty nice, you can wear your Metallica T-shirts again.
>You force your hand open and grab it very carefully, then drag it over your head.
>Your fingers didn’t respond very easily, like there wasn’t exactly a messenger in your head that went to your hand, but it seemed like it was getting better.
>You slip the shirt over your head and push your arms through the holes.
>You were way smaller than you used to be.
>It was doing that thing some girl’s shirts did where the neckline falls down over one shoulder.
>Sexy, but useless.
>It hangs off your breasts slightly.
>Not as accented as you’d expected.
>Guess your tits weren’t actually that big, you were just really small in comparison.
“Hey Filip, how tall are you?”
>”I’m… not exactly sure.”
“That’s hot helpful.”
>Looked like you were at least a full head shorter than he was, and he was stooping to hold you up, so it might even be more than that.
>You groan in frustration.
“I’d hoped to be Synonymous again by this morning. This is not what I was hoping for at all. Yeah, go ahead and call me Crystal still.”
>”Well okay, because I was doing that anyway.”
>You grab some boxers and jeans and slip them on.
>You were absolutely swimming in them.
>Had you really been that big when you were a man?
>You could probably fit two of you in these pants.
>One down each leg.
“This isn’t going to work. I don’t suppose the magical Tailor can make me modern fashionable clothes?” You ask the closet.
>You get no response.
>You’d had the closet make you clothes before, but unfortunately while food transcends time, fashion does not, and the magical tailor had long since lost touch with the modern world.
>If you wanted to look like a polished dandy, then sure, you were set.
>If you wanted anything remotely comfortable and with neat pictures of awesome bands on them, you were out of luck.
>You’d been waiting three years for this, and you weren’t going to let a few little things spoil your day out.
“Okay, so I am finally human and despite the fact that I’m a goddamn cripple and about a dozen sizes too small for any of my clothes, I am not going to let that stop me from getting some shitty McDonalds food!”
>Finally dressed, you latch on to Filip again.
“Filip, you can drive, right?”
>”Um, no, but I can learn.”
“Excellent. Also, I don’t suppose you’re a shapeshifter?”
>”No Ma’am, I am not.”
“Okay, none of my clothes will fit you and your weird body shape. So you’re gonna have to drive, and I’ll go buy clothes by myself.”
>That was gonna be tough, also, you needed your wallet.
>Where the hell had you put that?
>Three years is a long time.
>Not like your photo ID was going to work anymore, but whatever.
“Closet, can you give me some money?”
>You feel something shift in your pants pocket.
>You reach in and pull out a roll of benjamins.
>Way more than you needed, but cool.
>You didn’t need that wallet now. Nothing else in it would help.
>Okay, now to get ready to go.
“Okay, Filip, go pick one of the cars and start learning how to drive. I’m gonna get shoes on and I’ll meet you out front, okay?”
>”Sure! You’ll be okay by yourself?”
“Yeah, I can manage. I’ll crawl there if I have to.”
>”I’ll see you shortly then, Crystal.”
>He lowers you to the floor, then clops off out of the closet and heads for the garage.
>You were alone, lying on the floor.
>It felt normal being here.
>You didn’t want it to, but with your hands holding you up, you felt like you belonged with all four limbs on the ground.
>You ignored it as best you could.
>You got yourself some socks, picked out a really old pair of sneakers and tried to put them on.
>They didn’t fit.
>Your new feet were way too petite for them.
>You try on another pair.
>Those didn’t fit.
>You try on the final pair.
>None of them fit.
>Not even close.
>Even the socks were too big, and they kind of hung off your feet.
>This wasn’t working.
>You could tie the laces on the shoes tight, but they’d still flop around.
>This really wasn’t working at all.
>Fuck it. You’d buy an entirely new set.
>If anyone told you to leave, they’d get a wad of cash in their face.
>Being rich had advantages.
>You strip off your socks and toss them, and all the shoes that didn’t fit, into a corner.
>They’d be cleaned up soon enough.
>Time to stand and get to walking.
>You try to stand up from your sitting position.
>You focus on pulling your torso upright, but fall back when your legs default to standing on your toes.
>You try to keep your heels on the ground, which feels completely unnatural, then stand up, but your torso pulls forward and you fall on your face.
>Looks like you hadn’t quite gotten the hang of managing the different parts of your body yet.
>You push yourself up onto your fists and knees, which… actually felt almost normal.
>Riiiight, you were a pony in everything but shape.
>You stand on your toes, with your knees bent, and you felt like you were almost in the right position.
>It didn’t quite work, due to the proportions being all wrong, and was still uncomfortable, but it was close.
>Your pants were almost falling off, and your shirt was hanging up around your neck like this.
>You need a belt.
>You crawl over to your selection of belts hanging in the closet, and hunt for one that will actually fit your tiny waist.
>You come to the expected conclusion that you don’t have one.
>With a sigh, you hitch your pants up with your hand.
>Guess you’ll have to hoof it (Hah!) to the front door.
>You get yourself on to your fingertips and toes, and awkwardly shuffle off in the direction of the door.
>You felt like a complete fool, but no one could see you, and it was faster than crawling on your hands and knees.
>Filip was already out there waiting next to one of the cars your Gramps had.
>You think it’s a Rolls Royce, but you were never that big on cars.
>It had a few dings and scratches.
>Someone would probably flip their shit if they saw that, but they could go fuck themselves.
>You had a magical house and a satyr for a chauffeur, scratches in cars were small time.
>Filip sees you crawl out the front door and runs up the steps to help you upright.
>He assists you in getting down the stairs and helps you into the back seat.
>You flop your head against the headrest and breathe out in exasperation.
>Filip glances back at you in the mirror.
>”Are you doing all right Crystal?”
>You wave at him in the rear view mirror dismissively.
“Yeah, just having difficulty moving in any way resembling a human being.”
>”Ah, I see. Well, where shall we go?”
>You lift your head up off the seat and look at him with an intense stare.
“I have been eating richly-prepared and meticulously-created dishes for three years, and while Kitchen is great at its job, I WANT MCDONALDS!”
>”As you wish, ma’am.”
>You lay your head back as the car rolls into motion.
>Unfortunately, the mansions was deep in the English countryside, and it would take a while for you to get into the middle of the city where all the malls and restaurants and shit were.
>Filip hadn’t ever been outside the house, did he even know where he was going?
>You lift your head off the seat.
“Hey Filip, I just realized you probably don’t know where we’re going.”
>”Not a problem, Crystal, I found the jeeps!”
>”Yeah! The small computer that tells you how to get to a place.”
“Oh! The GPS.”
“Okay, then I’ll just relax. Thanks Filip.”
>”You’re very welcome.”
>You take the time to try to focus on moving your hands in ways that were normal.
>Horses didn’t really have fingers that could move individually, so when you’d go to move your fingers, they would all move at once.
>You were trying to figure out how to locate them one by one in your head, with very limited success.
>It was the opposite of phantom limb syndrome.
>Which, by the way, you were experiencing with your wings and tail.
>That was awful.
>You could feel in your head exactly where your wings should be, and you could attempt to flex them, but there was nothing.
>They started to ache like you wanted to move them, and you couldn’t.
>It was maddening.
>Suddenly you’re pulled from your reverie by a loud honk, and you look up to see an oncoming truck.
“Oh holy shit! Filip look out!”
>Filip swerves expertly around the truck, then gets back into the wrong lane.
>”Worry not! I know how the car works quite well!”
“I can see that! But you’re driving in the wrong lane!”
“The lines on the road, Filip, you need to stay in between two of them where the cars aren’t coming at you.”
>”Ohhh! Of course, that makes sense!”
>Filip pulls the car into the correct lane and matches the speed of the other cars.
>”I thought I should just go around them because they were in my way.”
“Noooo, you need to go with them, not against them. Do what everyone else is doing or we’re going to get in trouble.”
>”As you say.”
>The rest of the drive is uneventful, and you finally arrive at the nearest McDonalds.
>The golden arches rise up in front of you like the heraldry of King Arthur announcing his glorious return from death to usher in a new age of peace.
>While carrying a super-sized happy meal.
“Okay, Filip, get into the drive-thru, which is that thing over there, and stop next to the big sign.”
>He pulls in behind an SUV and waits.
“So you’re a magical forest creature, are you allergic to anything?”
>”I don’t believe so.”
“Perfect, you’re getting a Big Mac. In fact, get six Big Macs. Here’s a hundred. Just hand it to them when we get up to the window for payment.”
>With difficulty, you pull a single bill from your roll and palm it to him.
>He rolls up next to the sign and a garbled mess comes out of the speakers:
>”Sever your leg please. It’s the greatest day!” It mumbles.
>Filip looks back at you in confusion.
“Ignore what it says, just order six Big Macs.”
>”Uhhh, I’ll have six Big Macs.”
>”Special orders can be upsetting.” It scratches out.
>Filip looks back at you in confusion again.
“Just drive forward to the window, they got it.”
>He shrugs, but rolls forward.
>At the window, a long-haired skinny young man slides open the shutter and holds out his hand.
>Filip looks at his hand, then reaches out and shakes it.
>”No man, I need the cash.” The young man says.
>”Oh! My apologies. Here you are.” Filip says, and hands him the hundred.
>He slides the shutter closed, gets the change and hands it to Filip, followed shortly after by the back of burgers.
>Your mouth waters as the scent of cheap fast food wafts into the back seat.
>”You have a happy day, man, and by the way, sweet costume. Really diggin’ the horns.” The young man says, giving Filip a thumbs up.
>”Uhhh, thanks? I guess?” Filip says.
>He hands the bag back to you and slowly inches forward.
>”So are we getting clothes now Crystal?”
>You’re about to open a burger and are struggling with the little cardboard box.
“Hm? Yeah. Take us to the nearest mall or casual clothing store. None of that fancy stuff, I can get that at home.”
>You finally open the box and you look down at the greasy secret-sauce filled beast of fast food.
>Reverently you withdraw the sesame bun sacrifice from its altar, and slowly carry it up to your mouth.
>You bite into it and feel the warm, juicy mess run carelessly down your chin.
>Chewing slowly to savor the taste, you mash it into paste with your teeth and swallow.
>When it’s gone you whicker happily.
>Did you seriously just make that noise?
>Just like that your mood is ruined.
>You apparently still make unconscious horse noises.
>You’d have to be careful.
>You look at the burger in your nonfunctional fingers.
>It still smelled amazing.
>That wasn’t going to ruin this for you!
>You devour the rest of the burger in a fervor, messily spreading sauce all over your face.
>You devour two more while Filip drives, and relax afterward, your hunger for shitty food temporarily sated.
“Okay, I’m full, so you can have the last three burgers if you want them, Filip.”
>”Well thanks, I think I’ve found a good place for you to get some clothing. There is apparently a hole here that sells clothes from it, but I’ve been driving around trying to find it and I cannot.”
>You lean forward to look at the GPS.
>Looks like he was trying to find The Gap.
>You laugh at that.
“No, Filip. That’s the name of the store. It’s just called ‘The Gap’. There isn’t actually a gap that sells clothes. It’s probably inside the mall you’re circling here.”
>”Oh that makes a lot more sense!”
>Filip parks the car in a space nearby, trying to find one that was relatively close to the building.
>Unfortunately that was still going to be a hell of a walk.
>A walk that you couldn’t possibly manage without looking like a complete idiot.
>With the car off you hand the bag of burgers to Filip, and he starts chowing down.
>”Oh my! These are delicious!”
>Well, you’re glad he likes them.
>Meanwhile, you need to get to the mall doors.
>Filip can’t really come, because he would attract a lot of attention and that would vicariously cause you to get attention since he’d be carrying you.
>If you were just flopping about like a ninny, that would attract attention, but not a huge amount of it.
>Here you go.
“Wish me luck, Filip.”
>”Good luck Crystal. If you’re gone longer than four hours, I will come looking.”
“I really hope it doesn’t come to that, but thanks.”
>You open the door and step out into the parking lot.
>You’re holding onto the car door, unsteadily keeping yourself upright, and holding onto your pants with your free hand.
>You might need both for this, but that’d leave you in just boxers.
>Women walk around in boxers sometimes.
>Just gotta keep the button in front shut, and not let anyone see up the legs.
>You drop your pants and toss them back in the car.
>You T-shirt covers almost everything like a dress, and the boxers were loose, but you could do this.
>This was going to be hugely embarrassing.
>Oh right, you need your cash.
>You pull the wad of bills out of your pocket.
>Where the hell were you going to put it?
>Well, not like you could handle fine manipulation anyway, just ball it up in your fist.
>You take a deep breath, clench the wad of bills, shut the door behind you, and stumble over to the next car in the parking lot.
>Hand over hand, you walk on tip toe across the concrete, balancing yourself on the cars one by one down the line.
>One man is actually in his car and he rolls down the window to stare at you as you palm across the trunk of his car.
>You try to flip him the bird, but instead just show him the back of your hand.
>You reach the end of the normal cars, and have to make your way up one of them to get to the handicapped signs to continue.
>From there, you tiptoe into the bark mulch filling the median just before the road in front of the mall proper.
>There wasn’t anything to hold on to here.
>Crawl or try to walk upright?
>Crawling would look weird, but you could scrape yourself up pretty badly if you attempted to walk and fell on the asphalt.
>Crawling it is.
>You whicker nervously and shake your head, your ringlets bouncing around your face.
>Okay, can’t be doing that.
>You look around, there’s a pretty good amount of people, cars passing by every so often, and it was about noon if you guessed correctly.
>There wasn’t going to be any slowdown, so it would be best just to get it over with.
>You clutch the yield sign tightly, wait for a lull in the cars, and as soon as a space opens up, you drop to your hands and toes and crawl hurriedly across the open road.
>People were staring.
>Of course they were, you’d expected it, but it didn’t make you any happier about it.
>You just go straight for the doors.
>If you were gonna get stared at, you might as well hurry to your destination rather than prolong it, and you could move pretty quickly like this.
>You hurry up to the handicap door, pull yourself upright, and smash the button repeatedly until the door opens.
>It sure took its time about it!
>After an agonizing wait for it to open, you pull yourself along it and slip inside the mall proper.
>The air conditioned atmosphere hits you as you move inside, and you can suddenly feel your shirt rubbing against your nipples a lot more.
>Human females had no fur, and you had no bra.
>Even more embarrassment, sure! Let’s pile it on!
>You pull yourself over to the wall and slowly make your way down the crowded hall toward The Gap.
>You couldn’t concentrate on your posture at all, so you were stooped over, walking on tip-toe, clinging to the wall, while wearing nothing but a Metallica T-shirt and boxers, so it was really no surprise that someone approached you with concern in their eyes.
>”Excuse me, miss, are you okay?” The young girl asked.
>She couldn’t be more than fourteen at a glance, but looks could be deceiving.
>You should know! You were actually a pony trapped in a human body!
>She looked like one of those goth kids.
>Black makeup, studded leather wristbands, buckle-covered boots, and a worn-out backpack.
>Still, she seemed legitimately concerned.
>She was also as tall as you were.
>Shit! How fucking small were you?
>It was probably your posture more than anything, but that couldn’t account for all of it.
>Oh right, she was still staring at you, and you were just sitting here snorting through your nostrils nervously.
>You should stop that.
>”Miss?” She asked again.
“I’m, okay. I’m just here to buy clothes.”
>She looks skeptical.
>Why shouldn’t she?
>”Well… it looks like you need them. But are you sure you’re okay? You seem a little… nervous?”
>Maybe she’d help you get to The Gap if you asked nicely.
>That’s be nice.
“Well, I’m having difficulty walking. My feet hurt, for obvious reasons. Could you help me get to The Gap?”
>”Just to The Gap? Are you sure you don’t need anything else?”
>She comes over and offer you a hand.
“I’m going to need more than a hand to stay upright. Let me lean on your shoulder.”
>She gets closer and you get your money hand on her shoulder to hold yourself upright and grip her arm with the other to maintain your balance.
>”Ow, you’re hurting me.”
“Sorry about that. I’m ready to go, though.”
>The two of you begin a slightly quicker hobble over to The Gap, getting more than a few looks from passersby.
>Upon entering the store, the girl stops.
>”So what are you looking for exactly? A little bit of everything I take it?”
“Yeah, underwear, jeans, t-shirts, socks, and shoes. None of that fancy shit, though. I might need to stop by somewhere less pretentious for a good t-shirt.”
>”Well then let’s get you into the women’s section. What sizes are you?”
>”Well that’s alright. Other than your bust, we’re pretty similar. Someone here should be able to measure you to help get that figured out. But first; pants!”
>She carries you over to the women’s section, and grabs you a simple package of panties first.
>”How much are you looking to spend on clothes?”
>You pull out your roll of cash and wave it in front of you.
>”Holy shit! Here I thought you were hard up!”
”Don’t ask. I’m just desperate for some new clothes.”
>”Okay then, let’s get some quality stuff rather than the cheapest junk we can.”
>She puts away the first package, and grabs a nicer one that’s about three times the price.
>Whatever. You didn’t actually care.
>”So you’ll just want to pull these open and see if you fit while you’re in the changing room. They don’t like it, but you can afford it if that wad of dough is any indication.”
>She forces you to stand upright and eyes you up and down.
>”Mind if I get touchy real quick?”
>Touchy? She was cute. Why not? If she was fourteen, you weren’t the one touching her.
>She gets you to hold onto a shelf and tries to get you to stand upright.
>She’s eventually satisfied with the way you’re standing, and places her hands on your hips.
>She eyeballs your size and tries to compare it to her own.
>Standing there you see that you are about the same height as she is, now that you’re standing more or less erect.
>Unfortunately that means you are indeed really short.
>She finishes feeling you up and seems satisfied with the results.
>She grabs you again and helps you over to the pants.
>”So if my rough estimations are correct, you should be roughly my size. Thankfully the only article of clothing they don’t let you try on should be elastic enough to be comfortable either way. You don’t seem very picky, either.”
>Ain’t that the truth.
>The two of you wander around and she ooohs and aaaahs over several different pairs of pants and how cute you’d look in them.
>She asks your opinion on if you like different pairs, but you don’t know these from Adam.
>You just want jeans.
>She picks out several pairs of jeans for you and hangs them all over one arm, then shuffles you over to the dressing room.
>”You think you can try them on by yourself? No offense, but you seem… well…”
>”Crippled?” You finish for her.
>She cringes a little at that.
>”I guess so. Yeah.”
”I should be okay, just get me in there and I’ll handle it. Are you sure you’re okay waiting for me?”
>She waves off the comment.
>”I was just going to be a mall rat all day, so it’s no big deal. Just yell if you need anything.”
>She drops you and the pants off in the changing room and heads back out, shutting the door behind her.
>You really needed to get her name.
”Hey Girl! What’s your name?” You yell.
>You struggle with the package of panties, but you’re having difficulty getting a good grip on it.
”Mine’s Crystal. Hey, can you help me with this?”
>You toss the package of underpants over the door.
>You hear the snap of stretched plastic and the package gets tossed back over top, spilling panties all over the floor.
>You pick up a black pair, remove your loose boxers and slip on the panties.
>Wow. These were super comfy.
>They even fit well.
>You pick the pair of pants on top and start trying to slip into them.
>It’s slow going, what with you not being able to move your fingers properly.
”So Jessie, eh? You got a brother named James?”
>You grunt and fuss with the pants.
>These ones seemed too tight.
>They won’t go over your hips.
>You hear a groan from the other side of the door.
>”Yes, actually I do. Twin brother even. And before you ask, yes my parents like Pokemon.”
”Hah! That’s amazing!”
You toss those pants to the side and grab the next pair.
>”It’s pretty cool I guess. Doing the Team Rocket motto at parties always gets a rise out of people. We have a friend who plays Meowth when we do.”
>The next pair fits pretty well, but when you try to put your roll of money in the pocket, you discover that the pockets aren’t even real.
>You rip the pants off and toss them over the door in anger.
“Who the FUCK decided to make fake pockets a thing!?”
>You hear laughing from the other side of the door.
>”Sorry, I didn’t notice that on those.”
>The next pair is a lot better.
>It actually has pockets, and fits well, so you keep those on and leave the rest.
>You don’t want to be here any longer than you have to.
>You crack open the door and hobble out, leaving a huge mess in the dressing room behind you.
>Yes, you’re one of those people, but you don’t give a shit, you can barely walk.
“Okay, got pants, let’s get going.”
>Jessie looks past you at the pile you’ve left.
>”You’re just gonna…”
>She shrugs, grabs your arm and you shuffle off to the shoes.
>Similar to the panties, Jessie grabs you some socks, and rips them open so you can have something to wear.
>Thankfully, this section actually has something you can sit down on.
>For some reason you can’t understand, you’re exhausted.
>Maybe it’s all the effort you’re putting into behaving like a human?
>Jessie goes to grab one of those foot measuring things, and takes your foot size.
>”Okay, perfect! Now what kind of shoes do you want?” She asks.
”Sneakers. Nice ones. Comfy ones! Just sneakers.”
>She walks off to find something that matches your lovely description, and you wait.
>You start to drift off as you wait, and you blink more and more heavily.
>”Excuse me miss, can I help you?”
>You jump and whinny in surprise at the unexpected touch from the woman standing next to you.
>You try to buck at the source of the sound, but fail and only succeed in pushing yourself off your seat.
>You fall heavily to the floor and cover your mouth in embarrassment.
>She looks at you in confusion for a moment.
>”Ma’am are you alright?”
>”Oh, she’s fine, she’s fine, just really tired and a little high-strung!” Jessie comes running back, carrying a few shoe boxes.
>The woman offers you a hand which you gratefully take.
>”Well so long as you are. If you’re purchasing shoes, is there anything I can help you with?”
>”I think we’ve got it. Thanks though.”
>The woman leaves you be and Jessie helps you try on shoes.
>It becomes quickly apparent that you can’t tie your laces with your current level of dexterity.
“Well that’s frustrating.”
>”We can do Velcro. Hang on.”
>Jessie runs and comes back with a pair of shoes with Velcro on the top.
>Much to your delight, you can actually use these.
“Perfect! Getting them. Grab the box, and let’s go get some shirts! I can’t wait to get back home.”
>Jessie puts the remaining panties and socks in the shoebox, then helps you up once again.
>”That’s great and all, but first, we need to get you a bra.”
”Oh my god, seriously? This shit is so tiresome.”
>”Well…” she says, eyeing your chest. “We don’t have to ‘cause you’re pretty perky at the moment, but you don’t want to sag about when your tits get tired.”
“I guess. Fine. But quickly.”
>”We’ll just get you a sports bra. I don’t think you could fasten a conventional one very easily.”
>She carries you over to the women’s underwear section again, and you get measured by a worker there.
>It’s really awkward, but you suffer through it easily enough.
>You grab the very first recommended bra, and then you head off to the shirts.
>At first glance, you don’t see anything worth getting, and as time goes on, you still don’t see anything worth getting.
>All these shirts were super nice, but they didn’t have any awesome pictures on them.
>You liked pictures.
>Pictures of Metallica.
“Damn. All these shirts are boring as fuck.”
>”Yeah, they kinda are.”
>You both sigh.
>”Oh hey! You want my spare shirt? I didn’t know how long I’d be out, so I brought some extra clothes.”
“That depends. What picture does it have on it?”
>You roll your eyes.
“Of course. But sure. It’s better than this fancy shit.”
>She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a black t-shirt with Team Rocket’s Jessie and James posing on it with a big R in the background.
“You want ten bucks for it?”
>”Yeah, I gotta replace it somehow since I’m not gonna get it back.”
>You roll your eyes again and just toss her a hundred.
>”Woah, what the fuck? I can’t break a hundred.”
“Nah, just keep it. You helped me out. Now tell me if anyone is watching.”
>She looks around quickly.
>”I don’t think so. Why?”
>You pull your shirt off, bare breasts bouncing as your arms pull the shirt over them.
>You quickly pull on the sports bra, and slip on her Pokemon shirt.
>”Geeze! That was gutsy!”
>You snap the price tag off the bra and jam it into the shoebox with everything else you still had to pay for.
“Oh god, finally! I fit my clothes. That feels so good!”
>”Shirt’s a bit small, but it shows off your figure a lot better than it did mine. Let’s get you over to pay for this stuff since you seem in such a hurry to get home.”
>The two of you shuffle off in the direction of the cashier.
>You toss the shoebox on the counter and proffer your pants leg to the cashier.
“Sorry, came in and had to change clothes. If you could remove the anti-theft device, that’d be great, thanks.”
>You toss a couple hundreds at him and wait patiently while he checks them for counterfeits.
>He rings it all up, takes your money and hands you your change, then you are finally on your way back out.
“You sure you’re okay taking me all the way out to my car?”
>”Yeah, don’t worry about it, Crystal. It’s been interesting, to say the least. You’re quite the interesting woman.”
“Yeah that’s one way to put it.”
>She looks over at you as you hobble along.
>”So before you disappear, can you tell me what happened to get you into your current situation? I’m uber curious!”
“I really can’t.”
>”Can’t? Or don’t want to?”
“Don’t really want to. It’s far too unbelievable.”
>She grins and nudges you in the side.
>”Awww, c’mon, try me!”
“Sorry, no. You’re just going to have to remain curious about the circumstances that brought this crippled stranger into your life.”
>”Awww, that’s so unfair.”
“Life’s not fair, and then you die.”
>You reach your car.
>Jessie whistles in admiration.
>”This is yours, eh? Fancy ride!”
>Filip steps out of his door and runs around to open yours.
>”Welcome back Crystal! It looks like everything went well, and that you’ve made a friend!”
>Jessie just stares.
>You slap your hand onto your face.
“Goddamnit Filip! Not in front of strangers!”
>He looks at you confused, then looks down at himself, then at Jessie.
>He dashes back around and gets into the driver seat.
>Jessie’s mouth hangs open.
>You pull yourself away from her and shuffle along the remaining cars to your door.
“Well Jessie, I thank you very much for your assistance. Thank you as well for the shirt, but I really have to get going.”
>”Was that a satyr?”
>Filip hadn’t gotten out much, so it wasn’t really his fault.
>You crawl inside the car and shut the door.
>You see Jessie running away down the parking lot.
>Nice girl. Kind and rather helpful.
“Let’s get back home, Filip. I got my burgers and clothes so I’m not swimming in my old stuff. Let’s see if we can’t get the painting to fix this problem this evening.”
>Filip pulls out of the parking space and starts driving you back to the mansion.
>”You think it will be that easy?”
“Well I don’t really see what other options I have beyond a heavy amount of physical therapy to get used to this body, and I’d really like it to not come to that. Not when I had the experience before.”
>”Well alright then. I guess we’ll see what he has to say come evening.”
>You begin the casual drive home, and just relax while Filip drives along, humming to himself.
>Upon entering your rather long driveway, Filip pipes up.
>”Crystal, I think we have a problem.”
“Hm? What’s up?”
>”That young lady you were with? She appears to have followed us home.”
>You take a look out the back window and sure enough, on a motor scooter behind you is Jessie.
>”She’s been behind us for a while, but I thought she might just be heading in the same direction.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
>”I thought she was just going in the same direction.”
“Ohhhh my god. I’m gonna get arrested.”
>You wipe a hand down your face in exasperation.
“Fine. Just park. Naught to be done about it now. Let’s get inside and talk there.”
>Filip drives the rest of the way up to the house, and stops at the front door.
>He climbs out of the car and comes over to your side, opens your door and helps you out.
>Jessie, meanwhile, drives up behind the rolls and parks her little scooter, pulling her helmet off and hanging it on the handlebar.
>She walks up to you.
>”Nice place, Crystal. I suppose this explains the huge wad of cash you had on you.” Jessie says.
“Guess you were just feeling a little too curious, eh Jessie? I didn’t think you had a vehicle.”
>”Hey. Rich woman stumbles into a mall dressed in a t-shirt and boxers, loaded up with cash, crippled but not physically broken, who has a satyr chauffeur waiting for her in a Rolls Royce outside? There’s no way in hell I’m letting you get away without an explanation.”
“That’s fair. I wouldn’t let it go either. Come inside, I’ll explain.”
>Filip carries you up the stairs, and kindly enough, Jessie takes your other side.
>The doors open as you approach, and you all walk into the front entrance.
>Jessie gawps at everything.
>Wide ceilings, fancy paintings, massive stairs and expensive chandeliers.
>Yeah, typical mansion stuff.
>The doors shut behind you as you enter.
>”Where’s everyone else?” Jessie asks.
“No one else here but me and Filip.”
>”Filip does everything?”
>”Oh heavens, no. I’m no cook. The house does everything.” Filip says.
>”Magic?” Jessie says sarcastically.
>You gesture at Filip with your head.
“What do you call him, then?”
>”He could just be wearing a nice costume.”
“Who opened and shut the doors as we entered?”
>”Sensors, cameras, and machines.”
“Fine, let’s go have a late lunch. What would you like? Literally anything except junk food.”
>”Hmmm, how about a nice vegetarian lasagna with garlic bread?”
“You get that house? I’ll have a roast duck. On fire. Because why not? Filip?”
>”I’ll have some of that weird Chinese food we gave to the badger last night. The lumpy one.”
“General Tso’s? Okay. Filip, lead the way to the dining room.”
>Filip directs Jessie where to go and you hobble along between them.
>Jessie gawks and stares at all the rooms and expensive furnishings as you go.
>You point out your room once you get there.
“This is where we spend the majority of our time. The house is too big, so I only really need to use a small amount of it.”
>”What about your family?”
“Hah! I’m legally not allowed to share it with them. It’s pretty funny, actually. Maybe I’ll tell you the story sometime.”
>”Wow… and I thought my family was messed up.”
“Hey, I’m rich and hate my family so it’s no skin off my nose. Anyway, here we are!”
>The doors to the dining room swing open to reveal the table, draped in a fine table cloth, with three ornate chairs surrounding it.
>On top of it at each one of the three chairs, lay out every specified dish.
>At one was a dish of lasagna, freshly baked, with neatly sliced garlic bread in a separate dish next to it.
>Yours had a roast duck.
>On fire of course.
>You didn’t really have a reason other than Kitchen would do what you say, and you thought this hilarious.
>And finally, at the third seat was a plate of General Tso’s chicken for Filip.
>Jessie’s jaw dropped again.
>”We only walked for about five minutes! How did you do that?”
>You look over at Filip.
“Hey Filip, can you do that ‘magic’ thing with the waggling fingers? I haven’t figured out how to waggle my fingers individually yet.”
>Filip holds his empty hand up next to his face, waggles his fingers while pulling his hand down next to his face and says: “Majick!”
“Perfect. Now are you actually hungry? We don’t have to eat, I just figured this was the most harmless way to illustrate how magic the house is.”
>”No! No! I can eat! I’d hate to let the food go to waste.”
>You move into the dining room.
>Jessie and Filip drop you off at your seat first, then sit down themselves.
>You put out the fire on your duck and start carving it.
>It’s awkward holding the utensils, but you manage.
>Jessie, however, is poking carefully at her lasagna.
>She smells it, uses a fork to investigate the lower layers, and hesitantly licks the garlic bread.
“It’s not poisoned, I promise. If I wanted you dead I could have done it when you walked in the house.”
>She looks a little sheepish at that.
>”I’m just… curious, I guess.”
“I can make it curiouser and curiouser. Hey kitchen! Dinner music, if you please.”
>Several string instruments float out of a door nearby and begin playing some classical music.
“Ugh, gramps didn’t teach the house anything beyond the late 1800’s, so Tchaikovsky is all you get.”
>She doesn’t say anything and eats her food, staring at the floating instruments.
>You can’t eat all your duck, and to be honest you didn’t really enjoy it.
>You just wanted something absurd so that she couldn’t claim you’d had it prepared beforehand.
>Now that she knows, though, what do you do with her?
>Eh. Show her everything. Who’s gonna believe her?
“So, you want to know all my secrets then?”
>She nods enthusiastically.
>”Yes! Please! It’s magic! This is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in my life!”
“Fine. You can even stay here and come and go as you wish. The house will let you in if I tell it to. I don’t care. No one will believe anything you say about me, so whatever. Fair warning though, if anything happens to you because you touched something you shouldn’t have, you have no one to blame but yourself.”
>”Um… okay? What do you mean stay here?”
“Sleep here if you like. I don’t give a fuck. House will protect me if you decide to try to murder me so what do I care? Just pick a room. Now follow me.”
>You get out of your chair and just crawl along the floor on all fours.
>Hobbling was slow and tiring and you were tired of being carried by Filip.
“Oh, Kitchen, I need some more of that Chinese food delivered to the painting at twilight again, okay? Thanks.”
>”Why are you walking like that?” Jessie asks.
“I used to be a pink pony.”
>She starts to laugh, then chokes it back.
>”And that’s why you had no clothes? Why didn’t you just get your house to make clothes?”
“My house is stuck in the 1800’s. It has no idea what Pokemon or even zoot suits are. I ain’t wearing that shit.”
>She nods, and you keep walking.
“I was a man before I turned into a pony because I thought I’d get to Narnia through a wardrobe in here. Instead I turned into a pony, and found Filip. I think he was put in there to help anyone who got turned into a pony. Because not having hands sucks ass.”
>”That makes a weird sort of sense.”
“So, after that, I searched for three years for a way to turn back. Yesterday I finally found a painting with a magic badger who grants wishes.”
>”Oh! That’s neat!”
“Yeah, problem is, he’s lazy as fuck. You ever see The Wishmaster?”
“Yeah, so he grants wishes literally. I didn’t word my wish right, so he turned me into a human version of my pony body.”
>You unbutton your pants with difficulty and pull down one side slightly, showing off your butt mark.
“For some reason my ass had this little bell on it when I was a pony, and human me does as well, and I was female. That badger is a lazy fuck, and I mean to ask him to turn me back again at this point.”
>”Alright. So what else?”
“What else is magic? I don’t know. Everything? You ever see the Addams Family?”
“Magic books. Magic corridors. Magic rooms. I don’t know all of it yet and I’ve been here for four years. Feel free to mess with it, just don’t cry to me when you turn into a turtle.”
>You come to the painting and the food is there waiting for you.
>13 Dead End Drive is still there, too.
>You’d never put it away.
“This is the painting. Badger there likes Chinese food so we fed him, and he granted my wish. I’m going to wait here for evening, so you can go explore if you want. I’ll be here when you get back. Filip, you can go with her if you like.”
>”Certainly, Crystal.” He says.
“Just remember what I said. A lot of stuff is magic. Don’t fuck with it expecting it to be completely safe.”
>”I’ll remember that, I guess.”
“Oh yeah. House? She’s a guest, treat her like one.”
>You go grab a book from a nearby bookshelf and start reading.
>You’d been reading it sporadically while you were a pony, and it amusingly reminded you of your gramps and yourself.
>A spiteful rich man driving everyone around him away.
>After some time evening comes and Jessie and Filip return.
>She gushes about how amazing the mansion is and you patiently listen, but stop her when the painting stirs to life.
“Hang on Jessie, it’s time.”
>The badger begins eating and you address him as soon as you’re certain he’s aware of you.
“Hey, Badger. I need you to grant me another wish. I brought you food and everything.”
>”Well, I can certainly appreciate more exotic eastern food. What other wish do you want of me?”
“I want to be my old human self, not this human version of a pony.”
>”Well I can’t possibly turn you into something you already are. That’s ridiculous.”
“What, you can’t like, turn a chocolate cake into an angel-food cake? It’s the same thing.”
>”Not at all the same thing. I don’t know what ‘old human self’ you’re talking about, either. I don’t know you at all. You wanted to be human so I took what I saw and made you human. Wish granted. If you’re not happy, that’s too bad, I don’t rescind wishes.”
“Oh my god. You took all the benefits of being a pony and removed them. I can’t move properly or anything. Fuck.”
>You run your hand through your hair in frustration.
“Wish I had my fucking wings back.”
>Then you realized what you’d said.
“Oh fuck me!”
>”Sorry, you’ve already made your wish. Bring me something southern next time, will you? I’ll let you figure that one out.”
>Then the badger took his food and continued eating.
>”Sooo, what just happened?” Jessie asks.
“I got frustrated and misspoke. On the plus side, I’ll apparently have wings tomorrow morning.”
>”You misspoke and he took it as your wish?”
“And now you know the plot of The Wishmaster.”
>You get up from your seat and bend down to crawl to your room.
“Well I’m going to head to my room and attempt to play videogames until I pass out. You’re welcome to join me Jessie. Or you can wander about the mansion, or you can go home. I don’t really care.”
>You crawl back to your room with both Filip and Jessie following you.
>”If it makes you feel any better, your ass looks good in those jeans.”
“Kid, I’m like, twice your age. Flirtation gets you nowhere.”
>”What? Nuh-uh. How old are you?”
>This was gonna be hilarious.
>”You’ve apparently been three separate bodies, how am I supposed to even guess?”
“You’re the one who wants to know.”
>”Twice my age? Hey wait! Do you even know how old I am?”
>Damn. She’s got you there.
“Fine. Guess nobody gets to know anybody’s age.”
>”I don’t know how long I was in the wardrobe, but I’m about 3,689.” Filip offers.
“Neat. Now pick your character.”
>You’d pulled out Street Fighter and picked Karin again.
>This wasn’t going to go well without your wings, but you were gonna try.
>At the very least you had thumbs now.
>Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.
>Filip beat you soundly every single game.
“Ugh, you cheatin’ bastard. I blame transformation sickness.”
>”That isn’t a thing, Crystal.”
“Whatever. I’m going to bed. See you in the morning with wings, then I’ll show you who’s boss.
>You crawl back over to your bed, undress and lie down.
>At least you’d be able to fly in the morning.
>Your last thought before you fall asleep is wondering where Jessie went.
>The next morning you are awoken by an aching pain in your back.
>You roll onto your stomach and flex them.
>Oh man. That feels goooood.
>Sweet motherfucking flight.
>You could probably live with this body so long as you could fly.
>You pull yourself upright and look back at your wings.
>Bright pink, just like they used to be, with lovely little feathers.
>You extend them and give them an experimental flap.
>You know how they work just fine.
>Probably because you were just a human-shaped pony with wings.
>The bra you bought yesterday fits just fine, but your t-shirt is gonna need some modification.
>Pulling out some scissors, you put the shirt on, test where your wings sit, then pull it off and slice some holes in it.
>Your wings slip through neatly, and you flap them again to test.
>Oh yeah. That’s nice.
>You finish getting dressed, stand up, and fly out of the room.
>You fly out…
>Your wings couldn’t lift you!
>You felt a tiny little pull the harder you flapped, but not enough to get you off the floor.
>Again that fucker had screwed you, he literally gave you your pony-form wings.
>No wonder they were so small compared to your body!
>You flap and give a little jump.
>Your fall is arrested the tiniest bit, but you don’t stay airborne.
>They helped you stand upright!
>Well that’s a bonus.
>You can tiptoe about while flapping your wings and you don’t have to worry about balance.
>You prance about on tiptoe while your wings flap furiously behind you.
>That probably looks incredibly silly.
>You’re like some sort of demented fairy or angel.
>Back all hunched over, legs bent weird, hands stuck in strange positions with your wings buzzing furiously on your back.
>Yeah, you were a demented angel.