Untitled, Chatper 2

>>34042673
>>34042676

(End of Chapter 1, Start of Chapter 2)

"Twi, I have a few questions before we start." Again I am laying down on her couch, a blanket bunched up behind me as I rest sideways, looking at the purple unicorn across the table. She's cleaned up her study area and has ample supplies for writing at hoof. "To start with, how much can you control the dreams?"

"It requires a great amount of effort from me to exert simple influence on the dream, Anon. Minds are difficult to understand, and your being a human compounds that. I'm not going to be able to interfere with them. They're all you." She's reading from her notes as she speaks. She anticipated my questions and wrote responses for them?

"So, in my dream, when I was numb to pain, that was all me?"

"You only have what you allow yourself in your dreams." Twilight lifts a cup up of hot cocoa to her mouth and sips. "Which means we'll have a good record of your progress based on how much control you have over your dreams!"

"I see..." I drink my hot cocoa, as well. Mine lacks the marshmallows, and only semi-sweet. The diet of ponies has been a nagging concern for my own dental health for a while. I need to take care of my teeth so I don't have to see a dentist, or pay for one. I run my tongue over my teeth a few times before continuing, "I think I know why Sugarcube Corner was burning down in my dream. The first time I worked there, I had started a grease fire trying to fry churros. I... didn't know how to put it out. So I used water." I wince, remembering how I dropped the pan once the flames licked the ceiling, streaking the counter with burning grease. I still haven't made enough bits to pay the Cakes back for the damages, even though they insist I don't.



Twilight nods, "That's one possible interpretation. Dreams are full of symbolism and are difficult to understand, but the introspection from analyzing your dreams will be crucial to your healing process." She jots down notes as she speaks, the levitating quill's scratching providing beat to her words.

"How am I supposed to start this process if my dreams are against me from the start? I've been thinking about what I should have done in my dream all day, but I don't have a clue how I was meant to tackle the problem."

"Did you know what you were supposed to do when there was a grease fire?"

I frown, "No, but I don't need my dreams reminding me about every mistake I've ever made." I subject myself to those memories each day already. I'm not going to survive if they're made ten times worse by my own brain, much less gain any confidence.

Twi shakes her head, "I think your dreams might be trying to tell you something different. Maybe that these problems aren't your fault?" She smiles, eyebrows curving up in sympathy.

"Or maybe they're telling me that I won't be any help, so I should stay on the sidelines."

Twilight sighs. She finishes off her hot cocoa and pulls my blanket over me, fluffing the pillow beneath my head, "We both know you're too compassionate to give up on helping a pony out. Now, get comfortable. It's time for tonight's dream."

Compassion? I don't seek to help anypony out of the goodness of my heart. I'm a selfish, stupid person out for my own happiness. The only reason I'm even doing this is to alleviate my own pain. Not to be able to help somepony. I use others and I hurt them, and it just makes me feel worse because I know what a terrible person I am, but I can't stop. I'm only in this for myself so I can stop this gnawing guilt I feel for hurting you and everypony else with my temper tantrums.



I awaken to a chorus of songbirds outside of my circular window. The sun shines through, its grilles casting a cross-hair over the bandages wrapping my abdomen. My feet and hands are bound in casts, preventing me from doing anything even if I were to get myself seated on the edge of the feather-stuffed mattress. A temporary table is unfolded by my bedside, with a sliced apple next to a glass of water, complete with straw. The room I'm in is definitely inside Fluttershy's cottage, rustic unfinished furniture and nature scenery adorning walls and tables. It's much nicer than waking up in a hospital bed, but isn't that where I should be? Furthermore, that's definitely where Shy should be.

The choral of songbirds outside finish their song on a high note, and a soft "Very good!" catches my attention. I lean to see out the window at an angle, and sure enough, Fluttershy is flying there, wand in hand, conducting the birds resting on leafy limbs right outside my window. I open the window a little, "You're already healed, Fluttershy?" My muscles relax as tension melts off. If I had to see her with her wings bandaged and fur missing, I'd...

"Oh, Anon. You're finally awake!" Fluttershy comes closer to the window. I press it open with my elbow, and she flies in and lands by the bedside. She looks overwhelmingly happy. "You've been asleep for a long time. My injuries weren't as bad as they looked. How are you feeling?"

I shrug, "A dull ache? Otherwise, fine. I get the feeling these casts are going to become very annoying."

Fluttershy ooohs, looking over my bandaged body, "Humans really *are* tough. I was so scared for you that I told the doctors I wanted to take care of you. They compromised with me, letting me take you after the first night. I didn't leave your side for a second."

"That was... surprisingly nice of them to let you take me. And of you to nurse me."

"Oh, it's nothing, really." Fluttershy giggles, "Now, it's time for your breakfast."



She picks up an apple slice with her mouth and holds it up, smiling with closed eyes. "Do you have a fork... or something, to serve with?"

She opens her eyes and drops the slice back on the plate, "O-Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I've been nursing baby birdies, and that's how they eat... hehe." She slinks off to get a fork. I wedge the bitten apple slice between my casts and toss it into the trash bin at the foot of the bed before she returns to feed me.

I demonstrate picking up a slice, "I don't think you need to feed me after all, Shy. I can do it on my own." The slice slips between my casts and lands on the floor with a juicy smlack.

She tuts me before spearing a slice, "Anon, you need to rest. I don't want you to overexert yourself and get hurt again. Now, say 'aaah'." I narrow my eyes, unamused. She wiggles the speared slice in front of my mouth, "Open wide, Anon. Here comes the pegasus!" I shake my head and open up.

Breakfast finishes quickly. I try to convince Fluttershy to let me drink the water by myself, but she insists on holding it up for me. It's making me uncomfortable. I worry about what she's going to do when I say I need to take a piss. "Fluttershy, you don't need to do all of this for me. Letting me stay at your house is more than enough. I'll figure the rest out on my own." Speaking of staying at houses, "Where's Pi..." wait. Dreamshy, right. She's Dreamshy.

Dreamshy tilts her head, "Where's pee... Oh! Oh, um, you need to pee?" She crosses her forelimbs, "L-Let me get you a wheelchair. Please hold it in."

"No, I mean, where are the ponies whose bakery burned down? Do they have somewhere to stay? What happened to the fire lizard?"

"Oh." Fluttershy smiles, "You're so considerate, Anon, but you don't need to worry about them. Princess Celestia has provided the Cakes and Pinkie Pie somewhere to stay while Sugarcube Corner is rebuilt."



She strokes my arm with her left hoof, "And that naughty Salamander turned back into a little guy after the others rained him out. I'm keeping him in a time-out room until he learns his lesson." Her strokes go lower and lower until they reach my hand. I pull it away.

"That sounds dangerous. How are you keeping him from burning your home down?"

Fluttershy smiles, "Oh, don't worry. He's being kept in the stone basement, right next to a leak I haven't gotten fixed yet. When he cools off, I'm going to be very stern with him for hurting you. And burning down Sugarcube Corner." She bats her eyelashes at me, staring into my eyes. I look away. Eye contact makes me uncomfortable. Dreamshy's behavior is making me very uncomfortable, too.

I pull my hand away again when she tries to rest her hoof on it, "I'd like it if you weren't so, uh, personal with me. You barely know me." And I feel like I know you less and less.

Dreamshy frowns and kneads the edge of the mattress, "I-I just wanted to make you feel safe, Anon. I'm here for you. And I already know so much about you." Her wings open a little as she rests her head on the edge of the bed, "You're a very brave and caring human that saved me, a-and found out about the Salamander before things got out of hand. And you're funny and carefree, like when you were running around flapping your arms in the field. And you talk in your sleep." She frowns, "But you say a lot of bad things about yourself when you sleep. You talk about other ponies." The frown deepens, "And about how they hate you. Well, I love you just the way you are, Anon."

"You watched me sleep?" Time passes when I'm not dreaming? I'm asleep here when I'm awake in reality? She watches me sleep? Why is she so... friendly? Is this friendliness? I don't understand.

"You've been sleeping this whole time. I couldn't help but overhear when I was checking up on you, and... my curiosity got the better of me." She gives a bashful smile, "Sorry..."



I shake my head, "No, that couldn't have been avoided." Dreamshy raises her head from my bed and heads over to a shelf on the wall behind me. The chime of a porcelain bell rings with her soft footsteps mooshing over the carpet. She's using her mouth again. She sets it on the table and picks up my empty plate, the glass balanced on top.

"If you need anything, please ring the bell and I'll come up to help you as soon as I can. Let me get you some fresh water before I go and check up on the animals." She smiles and butts her way out the door, leaving it ajar. Soon, I'm left with a full glass of water and picture books full of small woodland creatures. I fumble around with them and give up, letting the books slide off the bed face-up. I look out the window and watch the world move on happily without me.

I need to figure out what I'm dreaming here for. Why is Fluttershy all over me? The Salamander is here, but she's already taken care of it. Am I going to be stuck in her care the whole time? I look down at the picture of the bird in the book. It's a phoenix, rising from its ashes. Is that it? Am I being reborn? Nothing about me is changed, though. Or has it?

How do I tell if it has?

I look at my casts.

I begin to gnaw one open, tearing at the plaster with my front teeth. I'm glad pony medical technology is this primitive. If this was a metal cast, I'd be shit out of luck. After a bit of work, my index and middle fingers are exposed. They seem completely fine.

I work fast, tearing the cast off. My hand is fine. Completely healed. I tear the other off. This hand, too, is fine. My feet and torso are fine, as well. I'm totally uninjured. Sorry, Dreamshy, but your hero isn't going to be sticking around for long.



Well, I should at least leave a note before I go. 'Fluttershy, I'm fully healed. Thank you for your generousity and hospitality. Not having to stay in the hospital means a lot to me, even if I didn't stick around for long. I'm going back to Ponyville to help rebuild Sugarcube Corner. Your friend, Anon.' I underline 'your friend,' putting extra emphasis on underlining friend.

I pull my hoodie over my bare chest, and shudder at the thought of Dreamshy having access to that this whole time. Why does my brain have to make her so creepy? I head downstairs for the front door when there's a knock at it.

"Fluttershy? It's Pinkie Pie. Is he awake yet?" Her voice is deflated. Creeping over to a window, she looks deflated, too. Her frizzly, puffy hair is straight and long, her tail a simple swoosh instead of its usual chaotic, twitching mess of cotton candy. Why now, when I'm about to leave? I sneak to a back window. Yup, Dreamshy is out here, spreading feed for her chickens. She's encouraging them to eat their fill. The only way through is forward.

Pinkie Pie knocks again, "Fluttershy...?" I answer the door fast. The last thing I want is to argue with Dreamshy about needing more bed-rest. I'll just get Pinkie to come with me.

"Hello, Pinkie Pie." I open the door and step outside. She shuffles backwards at my arrival, stunned. "Did you want to see me?"

Her hair begins to puff up, "A-A-A-Anon! Your name is Anon, right?"

"Sure is. Hey, want to go for a walk, just you and me? I let Fluttershy know I'm fine." Not directly, but that's close enough to the truth, isn't it?



>>34045894
>>34045896
>>34049246

(Continuing)

We've made a good distance between ourselves and Dreamshy. I don't see her following us, behind or overhead. No reason to slow down, though. "Pinkie Pie, why did you want to see me?"

She fumbles with the zipper as she trots alongside me, and grins wide when she opens it, "You tried to save my home and then saved one of my PBFs, Fluttershy! How could I not want to meet you and thank you and take you out for dinner?" She bounces around me, high enough once on each orbit to talk face-to-face.

"I didn't save anything. I got Fluttershy into that situation to begin with because I just had to play hero. Could you stop bouncing around me, please?"

"No problem!" She trots backwards, her eyes locked on my face. I keep focus on the trail ahead as she talks, "And what matters is that you did your best for somepony you didn't even know. Heck, that you did it for a pony at all! You flatterer, you!" Her grin widens, eyes happy 'n's.

"Fla- Roots." As soon as I called out, Pinkie Pie had launched herself backwards over them. "I was just doing what I thought I had to. I'm no flatterer, I'm just trying to find peace, and trying to help you and the Cakes was part of that."

"Ahh, a tall, handsome, mysterious stranger haunted by ghosts of his past! I should host a party to welcome you to Ponyville! I'll invite everyone!"

I stumble. What? Tall, yes, to a pony. Handsome? "You... really don't need to. I don't handle crowds well."

"Hehehe, so you're not just humble, but bashful, too! Don't worry, we can have a private party, too. I'll need to borrow Applejack's kitchen for baking. Oh, and I'll get Rarity to make party coats! It'll be a Mysterious Stranger costume party! Do you want to see me in a dress, or a gown?"

"Pinkie Pie, I'm really... flattered(?) that you want to throw a party for me. But I want to help the reconstruction of Sugarcube Corner. It doesn't feel right to celebrate before you have your own bed again."



"Nonny, Nonny, Nonny. This is an extra special invitation from a super-duper thankful mare! You'll help me buy the flour, and carry the cakes and pies and muffins and cookies and donuts! This is how you'll repay me instead!"

We've reached the edge of the woods. No smoke darkens Ponyville's sky today. Only the distant sound of saws and hammers belies the fact that the fire happened. I stop and kneel before the pink pony in front of me. This is the second time somepony in this dream has... forcefully asked me to let them help me. Pins and needles prick my face and ears at the thought that my dreams think this is how they'll get me to rely on others. That's what it has to be. I'll just show my dreams that I can go along with a pony's plans without all of the... force. Pinkie Pie boops my nose with her snout and giggles when I come back to. "Buh-"

"There you are! I woke you up, Nonny. You were spaced out enough to be an astronaut! C'mon, time's a-wasting!" She takes a hop and a bounce towards Ponyville, looking back at me expectantly.

"... Okay. If that's how you want me to make things right, that's what I'll do." And get my damn brain to settle down. I need to start relieving myself before I come to dream. I can't believe isolation has made me even consider horse pussy. This must be what they mean when they talk about 'prison gay'.

We enter Ponyville proper, Pinkie Pie waving to the ponies that walk past. She sticks closer to me when I get stares from the locals. I swear I see a colt wink at me. Otherwise, it's the same old Ponyville from my waking life. The cobblestone streets buzzing with friends chatting and commerce rolling by on wooden wheels, beautiful potted and hanging gardens adorning businesses with window displays and sweet smells beckoning us. I have to remind Pinkie Pie more than once that we're here to buy supplies for the party.

* * *

I'm loaded down with bags full of flour, salt, sugar, and butter. I grunt, "This is excessive."



"Nonsense, Nonny! I've got to bake mountains of pastries and figure out your favorites! And you'll want thirds and fourths, and enough to take home, of course!" Pinkie Pie is carrying her fair share in saddlebags. We have enough ingredients to cook more than I could eat in a year. She's not sincere about using all of this tonight, is she?

Pinkie Pie knocks 'shave-and-a-haircut' on the door of the Carousel Boutique. The door opens on its own, glowing light blue. Rarity stands at the entrance, "Oh, Pinkie Pie. I'm delighted that you've come by for a visit, and your mane's as unruly as ever." She sighs, personally slighted by Pinkie's wild mane, "Well, what's the occasion for your return to your old, perky self?"

Pinkie Pie stands aside. Rarity must have assumed I was merely a pile of canvas sacks, because she gasps and steps back when she realizes I'm there, "My word, is this the human?"

Pinkie Pie nods, "Nonny's the one that saved Fluttershy from that scary Salamander that burned down Sugarcube Corner! We need costumes for the celebration party I'm throwing for h--oh NO! I forgot the cherries! The blueberries! The peaches and the raspberries and the pears and the strawberries! Nonny, handle this, I'll be right back!" Pinkie Pie disappears in a flash, leaving behind a dust cloud of her outline.

"It's Anon. She just decided to call me Nonny on her own. May I come in?"

"I would be absolutely honored for you to come inside. Do hurry!" Rarity steps aside, her eyes looking me over top to bottom. This is a behavior I expect from her, at least. She's always focused on fashion. I set the bags down by the door and stretch my fingers. My endurance and pain tolerance in dreams is amazing. I'm sure Rarity would delight to abuse that on a shopping trip.

"Oh, Darling, this is a travesty!" Her hooves paw at my torn jeans and hoodie, "Oh! Oh, I can't stand it! Out, out of these RAGS now!"



Rarity thought the same of my daily wear when I first came to Ponyville, but she didn't force me to undress with magic. My hoodie is jerked off in a clean motion, my belt undone with urgency I've never managed without encouragement from an overfilled bladder, and I'm thrust forward onto the mirror-surrounded podium, her magic slowing my fall as my pants are yanked down and off with my grass-stained socks.

"Rarity!" I climb over the podium and hide behind a mirror, "What the hell!?" It's hard to process what just happened. My heart thumps in my chest, I can feel tremors in my wrists beating with my quickened pulse, and this embarrassment is something I haven't felt since gym class in elementary. "What the hell?"

"Oh, Darling, I'm so sorry. Please, don't hide from me!" She flutters her eyelashes, a coy frown crossing her mouth as she prances slow and deliberate. "I was simply overcome with disgust. It would have been a crime to allow such splendor to be tarnished one moment longer." She smiles when she reaches the podium, a caring face encouraging me to come out. "Here, Darling. You may cover yourself with this if it means you won't deny me." She uses her horn to unravel a long, white ream of fabric, cutting a length of cloth capable of wrapping around me twice over, and hangs it next to my cover.

"D-Deny? What do you even mean by that?"

"I simply must see your form! Your magnifique physique! You inspire me like I have never been before, my Darling! My muse!" I can see her nostrils flare and cheeks blush. She's beyond worked up. I'm afraid she's going to charge me and do worse. I look down. All I'm wearing are boxers, and the button's undone... oh, they're clean. Goddammit, Dreamshy. What the fuck is wrong with my dreams?

For my own safety, I grab the cloth and wrap it around my shoulders. Rarity ushers me onto the podium, "Darling, whatever you want today is free of charge. Please, order (clothes from) me as much as you like."



"I only have one order to make. Pinkie Pie wanted to have a 'Mysterious Stranger' costume party with me, and said something about coats...? I think she means long ones."

Rarity circles me, "Oh, Darling, you would look absolutely di-VINE in a double-breasted Chesterfoal! But to only give me a single (clothes) order! Darling, you fiend!"

"A-A new outfit would be nice? Like my old hoodie and jeans. And a new shirt." Rarity tugs at my cloth covering. I let the cloth fall off my shoulders, wrapping the excess around my waist and tucking it inside of itself. I hear her snort. I shudder.

"Darling. DARLING. I cannot allow you to be furnished by such... common garments!"

"Well, that's what I feel comfortable wearing. I don't like sticking out."

"If that is my Darling's wish, I must abide it. But I will see you in proper clothes befitting one of your stature by the week's end, I swear upon my pride as Equestria's greatest fashionista."

"... Can you just take the measurements already? Please?"

"Then, without further ado." Rarity levitates several tape measures and begins taking notes on my sizes, ordering me to lift my arms, to take deep breaths, even to flex my muscles. She leers when the tape presses tight against my chest, then again just below my waist.

"NONNY~~~! PINKIE PIE HAS ARRIVED!" Oh, thank Jesus. That's the second time today I've felt relieved beyond compare. Pinkie Pie has doubled down on her saddlebags, her tail batting falling fruit back into the unfastened pouches. "Rarity, did Nonny tell you about the-"

Pinkie Pie freezes when she sees Rarity hiking up the hem of the cloth protecting me from prying eyes. Her pupils contract, pinpoint in size, and her hair begins to deflate. I motion to Rarity, but Pinkie Pie is already tapping her on the shoulder, "Rarity. Aren't you done taking measurements now? You need to work on them."



"Ah! Hm? Oh, Darling needs much more thorough measurement than anypony else. He's a... unique specimen that must be studied in deep, intimate detail."

Pinkie Pie bites the tape measure currently wrapping my calf and slurps it up like a long, flat noodle, "Mmm! Tastes like numbers! Man, I just realized how hungry I am! You're hungry too, right, Nonny? Let's go eat while Rarity makes our Mysterious Stranger costumes!"

I don't even think about what just happened. I'm glad to be free of Rarity's suspiciously bondage-esque measuring techniques. I jam my legs into my pants, buckle up, and throw my hoodie on. I have to twist it around as Pinkie Pie pushes me with her skull to my butt towards the door. "Thank you for doing this work for us free, Rarity!"

"Us? Darling, It's only you whose outfit is free."

Pinkie Pie growls, "Nonny, get the bags. We need to get to Applejack's before the butter melts."

I grab the sacks and exit the Carousel Boutique with Pinkie Pie still pushing me with her head. I turn back and see Rarity waving goodbye to me, then bringing the cloth I covered myself with to her face before closing the door.

"What the hell was up with her? She was all over me."

Pinkie Pie's mood considerably worsens, "Well, maybe you should've stuck up for yourself. I didn't know you were so eager to get undressed for any mare that smiled at you."

"Pinkie. She used magic and tore my clothes off. I couldn't do anything."

"Hmph!"

We walk in silence for a while. I take deep, serious consideration over Rarity's... well, it was practically sexual assault, wasn't it? This desire towards me is completely foreign. Even in my dreams, it feels completely unreal. Moreover, it's disturbing. I need to think of a way to give myself an edge over unicorns. I only have in my dreams what I allow myself. I think I get why I don't feel pain, but how am I supposed to allow myself power?



"Nonny, I'm sorry."

"Eh?" Pinkie Pie stops in front of me, her hair still flat like it was freshly ironed, almost tears in her eyes.

"I didn't mean to burst out like that against you. I was just so shocked by what Rarity was doing, to Nonny of all people!" She stamps her hoof, "That's just... mean!"

"... Yeah. I, uh, apology accepted. Don't let... what happened back there spoil the party."

"The only thing getting spoiled at the party is you, mister! You'd better make your belt a little looser, because I am going to fatten. You. Up!"

I just shake my head and sigh, "If that's how you want to repay me." Pinkie Pie nods, and bounces alongside me as we head towards Sweet Apple Acres, catching and juggling the fallen fruit with her mane. I pray that Applejack is still her same old silly self. God, please, let her be her same old silly self.



>>34052327
>>34052330

(Continuing)

We arrive at Sweet Apple Acres when the sun is high in the sky and the shadows of the trees are at their smallest. Tracks of wagon wheels run alongside trees already harvested. Looks like we've come at the height of Applebuck season. There's a wonderful, fresh scent filling the air, a gentle breeze carrying it right to my nostrils. Pinkie Pie takes a loud, deep breath, "Pwah! Nonny, doesn't that fruity fresh scent get your tummy all rumbly?" She bends her head backwards, shakes her flank, and bats falling berries into her mouth. "Juicy!"

I nod, walking ahead of Pinkie, "I'd be lying if I said it didn't." I'm a bit jealous of Applejack. She gets to lead an honest, simple life out here. Take care of the farm, harvest the apples, feeding ponies. The stamina required to be a farmer is insane. By the end of the first day of applebucking, I was worn out. Hauling carts of apples and climbing trees to pick them was tougher than it looked. It'd be easy for me to help out in my dream, but no matter how hard I work here, I'm not going to be able to help Applejack in reality. Not before long, grueling years of exercise. I crest the final hill, Applejack's farm on the opposite hilltop. I stop to admire it. Pinkie Pie joins me.

Thunk. I can see trees shaking in the valley below, their apples a red rain, dropping out of sight. Applejack must be out there gathering another cart-full for the markets. Pinkie Pie takes off down the hill, "Race you, Nonny! Last one inside has to do the 'You Won' dance!" Her tail goes into overdrive as she gallops down the hill, somehow managing to not spill a single ingredient. I run down after her as best as my bags allow me.



I'm not a competitive person by nature, and my two legs seem an unfair disadvantage against a horse. Pinkie Pie is far ahead of me, already crossing the valley as my feet struggle for traction against the smooth dirt slope, my speed getting out of hand. When I reach the bottom, she's already ascending the hill. That's when I gain on her. Halfway up, I overtake her. I can hear her harsh breathing as she tries to keep my pace, but all I need to do is get to the top first. A tired pony can't beat a sprinting human, and I'll win.

At least, I thought I was going to win. A sudden rainbow gust whips past me, and I see the cause lounging on top of the well, chewing a stalk of grass with her forelegs behind her head, looking at me with an unimpressed gaze. Rainbow Dash has decided to enter the race, and she's taunting me. I take a quick glance behind me. Pinkie Pie is still lumbering her way up. Should I respond to Dash's taunt, or just keep at my own pace? Well, if the dream threw her at me...

I sprint through the white wooden gate, kicking dust as I swing the bags with my arms. Dash hasn't moved an inch. I'm past the well. The corn field. The barn. I'm going up the dirt path to Applejack's home on the farm, the door less than thirty feet away. I hear Dash stretching behind me. The door is right there, but I'm losing. I'm going to lose. Twenty feet. Shit, which angle is Dash going to come from? Can I stop her? Ten feet. I drop my bags and listen. I hear the flap of wings behind me, above. Five feet. I jump, arms outstretched. Something soft hits them, and I grab.

"Whoa!" Dash and I shout in unison as her speed smacks the both of us into the front door of the house, sending us tumbling down the ramp to the ground. The sky blue pony struggles against me, but I hold on tight. "Let go! Of me! You punk!"

"You can't just butt your way into a race that's already started!"

"Well, excuse the hay out of me for wanting to have fun! Now lemme go!"



She twists and kicks, but when you're immune to pain, holding down a mare is a question of endurance. I struggle to my feet, rolling over and holding Dash away from my body. "I'll let you go as soon as I enter the house fi-"

"PINKIE PIE TAKES THE GOLD!"

We turn our heads and see Pinkie Pie on her hind-legs, forelegs braced against the doorway. She's sweating, her chest going concave with deep breaths. Her tail is fanned out like a peacock, holding all of the fruit in the saddlebags, "Pinkie Pie takes... the gold...!" Then she falls backward, splayed out, exhausted.

Dash uses the distraction to wriggle out of my hold, flying in over Pinkie Pie. Dash pokes her head out of the doorway and blows a raspberry at me. Looks like I lost in the end, after all. I sigh and pick up my bags. I don't know why I expected any other outcome than me in dead last. Dash helps Pinkie Pie to her feet, and I'm made to do the 'You Won' dance for both of them. Individually.

After two embarrassing rounds of impossible-for-human dance moves later, the pair of ponies are in stitches. I leave them to their laughter and move the bags into the kitchen. I hear the laughter die off only to be renewed with vigor several times before they stagger into the kitchen, Pinkie Pie leaning against the wall as she holds her stomach, "Nonny! Nonny, why didn't you warn us that you were hilarious!"

"Yeah, seriously! I thought I was gonna die laughing!" Rainbow Dash cackles, dipping and swerving through the air. She flops down in a seat, hanging over the side and kicking her legs as she has another fit.

"I don't know what you expected from me. I'm not a horse. How else was I supposed to do a double-grapevine with only two legs?" Pinkie Pie joins Dash as the image of me on all fours, crossing one leg and one arm behind the other before falling over no doubt plays over and over again in their heads. "You know what, you two can handle the cooking. I'm gonna go help out Applejack."



I take Pinkie Pie's lack of resistance as an okay and leave the house. The sun is warm on my skin, but the breeze keeps me cool. I walk down to the valley, watching trees shudder and considering which one was Applejack. Those three trees in a row must be Big Mac. And over there, the apples fall a few at a time. Apple Bloom must be trying her best to help out. That leaves the plot on the far end of the valley.

"Applejack! You over here?" I cup my hands and call out. I've been following the sound of hooves thumping against tree trunks, but the way the sound echoes in the orchard makes it difficult to walk in anything more precise than a general direction.

"Over here!" Her twang is crystal clear, guiding me through the orchard. I see half-barrels full of apples from freshly bucked trees and jog up. Applejack starts emptying the barrels into an unloaded cart. I squat down and pick one up myself, lifting the hundred or more pounds of apples with ease. Applejack talks as she turns, "Now, I ain't heard yer voice before. Who are ya?" I can't see her reaction with the apple barrel in the way, but her silence worries me. I help fill the cart and look at her for myself. She's scratching her head underneath her hat, "Gosh, never seen one'a your folk before. You ain't from 'round here, are ya?"

I shake my head. Inside, I'm doing back-flips. Applejack is completely normal. Hell, even Rainbow Dash is normal, but if I have to be honest, she's the one I like the least out of all the ponies. Loud, competitive, and always goading me into something or another. Not Applejack, though.



Her work ethic is something I admire, or really, something I'm jealous of. The way she's able to see anything through to the end, that candid and rough honesty that comes with the farm life, and how she didn't even blink when I had to take a break from farm work. She cared about everypony, but intuitively understood how some people needed to be treated differently than others. She rarely gave pep talks to me, or pushed me to cheer up. She thanked me for my hard work, smiled, and asked when I would be back. The way she allowed me to struggle and find my own footing, never asking more from me than what I could do.

I don't recall anypony ever giving me that space to fail on my own before. Every time, they would come in and coddle me like I was a child. I let the degradation pile up and fester inside me, because I understood what they were trying to do, but always, every time, without fail, it just made me feel like I was incompetent. And how was I supposed to tell them to give me space? To let me handle my failures on my own? The harsh words I had for myself always turned cruel when my friends tried to support me after my failures. But not Applejack. She knew. She understood that part of me that hated my infantile state, and she respected it. I was treated like an adult.

"Ah! Ah'm sorry, I didn't mean t'make ya cry!" Applejack brings my tears to my attention. "That was mighty rude of me. I apologize from the depths o' my heart."

I wipe them away and smile, "No, Applejack, it wasn't you. I just had some really... sad thoughts." I turn around and lift the last barrel of apples, hiding behind it. "My name's Anon. Pinkie Pie is using your kitchen to throw me a party. I'd like to help you out to return the favor. I hope you don't mind?"

"Shucks, ain't no trouble at all. And yer help is mighty appreciated. We've got a lotta work to do before the day's over!" She hitches herself to her cart and heads for the road, "Jus' keep on goin' down the line!"



"I'll see what I can do!" Alright. Okay. I rub my eyes again before looking at the imposing tree before me. There are no limbs low enough for me to get a leg-up on. I turn a half-barrel over and stand on it, gaining enough reach to grab onto a bough thick with apples. I grab with both of my hands and shake. To my surprise, the bough shakes with ease. Apples thunder against the ground, and I let go out of shock. The limb snaps back into place, sending the other half of the apples flying. I hop off the barrel and chase the apples down. I can work with this.

* * *

"Gosh, Anon, you sure you ain't an Apple? I ain't never seen nopony buck like one 'o us before." Applejack has return to three half-barrels full of apples.

I allow myself to grin a little, a genuine and stupid happiness in my heart even though this is just a dream, "What can I say? Humans are tough."

We spend the rest of the day tag-teaming the trees, with Applejack hauling cart-fulls as fast as I can load them. The heavenly smell of pies cooling on windowsills torments us as we work, although it must be much worse for Applejack, who has to climb towards that smell every trip. We meet back up with Big Mac and Apple Bloom, who accept my existence and assistance with simple thanks.

Pinkie Pie has baked a buffet of goods and turned Applejack's home into party central. She's even managed to dress Dash and Granny Smith up for the theme. Dash is in a red bandit's mask and wearing a leather vest, while Granny Smith is covered with a shawl and hat that hides her face from view. Rarity brings over the clothes herself, and stays for the party, much to Pinkie Pie's apparent annoyance. True to her word, she's brought me an expensive-looking long coat that buttons itself across the chest, complimented with a fedora. Or is this a trilby?

Pinkie Pie, meanwhile, wears a black sequined dress trailing behind her, glittering in the light, her face hidden behind a matching lace veil adorned by white lilies.



Rarity, herself, has chosen to dress up as a 'filly fatale'. A tight and accentuating red slip dress, blue eyeliner, the works. The rest of the Apples get into the 'Mysterious Stranger' theme, too. Apple Bloom and Applejack wear contrasting cowboy outfits, white and black hat, respectively. Big Mac puts on sunglasses. Even with Rarity trying to cling to me throughout the night, Pinkie Pie works hard to keep her from jumping my bones. I almost start to enjoy myself as the night wears on. Then, Pinkie Pie hops up on a table and rings a triangle, catching everyone's attention.

"Everypony! The main event of tonight is about to begin!" Main event? I thought this was just a celebration part. Pinkie Pie pulls out a manila envelope. Inside of that manila envelope are a pile of cards and envelopes. "Since this is a 'Mysterious Stranger' party, I thought it'd be super fun to have a game everypony can play part of!" She spreads the cards across the table. Everypony gathers around. I stand behind them, looming over to look at the cards. Images of guns, poison, money, and evidence adorn each one. "So we're going to be playing a 'Whodunnit'! Everypony picks a character and acts like them. Then, a murder will happen. The murderer is one of you, and they'll strike again if you can't stop them!"

Applejack nods, "Sounds like a fun time. It's all imaginary, o'course?"

Rainbow Dash rolls her eyes, "Nooo, Applejack, we're really gonna attack each other with these cards."

Pinkie Pie shakes her head, "It's all pretend! Anyway, after I explain the rules, we can begin."

A murder mystery dinner game, huh? This might be fun. Pinkie Pie explains the rules. One of the characters is predetermined as the murderer. Fights are solved with a simple game of rock paper scissors. Those injured have a chance to be saved if someone finds and heals them within a few minutes. Otherwise, we may freely talk and lie to one another as we please.



"Alright, everypony, gather around the table and help me shuffle the cards!" Every character has a guaranteed inventory for their background, but other than that, it's randomized. This means any character could have a piece of evidence incriminating the murderer, or the murderer might hold the evidence themselves. The game is set in the ritzy Manehatten penthouse of a famous philanthropist, Sitting Pretty. She's invited all manner of noteworthy ponies to celebrate a recent gallery opening under her name for the disadvantaged ponies to have a space of artistic freedom and a chance at recognition.

Pinkie Pie hosting the game, and will be acting as Sitting Pretty. She'll be the game's referee that decides what happens if two ponies have a disagreement. Each character has their own objectives, too, so stopping the murderer isn't the only win condition. I join the group of ponies mashing the cards together in a big pile, all face-down. We then split the cards up, three to an envelope, and Pinkie Pie distributes the envelopes.

"Is everypony clear on the rules?"

We all nod.

"Is everypony ready for the bestest game of their life?!"

There's giggling as we nod again. I'm getting excited in spite of myself. I've never been good at adventure games, and all of the social interaction has me worried, too. What if I pull the murderer? I have a good poker face and I can lie... wait, wouldn't I actually make a great murderer, in this case? But if I draw something like a detective, would I be able to figure out who did it? I don't consider myself a great judge of character. Oh, it's my turn to pick one of the envelopes fanned between Pinkie's hooves. How the hell are they going to play Rock Paper Scissors with hooves?

I draw my envelope. Once she's finished, Pinkie Pie smiles wide, "With that, the game. Is. On! Open your envelopes!" She sets a timer on the table, "Two hours until judgement must be passed. Good luck!"