Trixie&Anon Stories: Part 5

>The feeling of the head part of the chair slowly changes out with the softest thing you've ever slept on.
>Hm, that's strange.
>How could the pones drag your fat ass all the way over here?
>Wherever this "here" is.
>The air feels a lot cleaner than Canterlot's.

>And the rustling of the pillow fabric under your head sounds different to how it usually does.

>You try moving your ears, which you considered a talent of yours, to see if everything's fine with your head.
>You feel much more control over your ear movements, and without you even noticing they fold right in half.

>That...
>That's now how ears work.
>At least human ones.

>You open your eyes.
>Your field of vision expands much larger than it usually does, and that conjures up some nausea in you.
>You feel the burn of the stomach acid creep up your throat.

>Quickly you swallow it back, leaving a sweeter than usual taste on the back of your now small and thin tongue.
>What the fuck happened to you?

>You look down, slowly moving your head.
>It's quite hard to make anything out in the darkness...
>Just a green fluffy belly and four legs ending with big round hooves.
>Are you now a pony or something?
>Well...

>You wanted to know how it was like to be a pony, but...

>Hmm.
>You wanted adventures, right?
>Like, new experiences and such.
>You did.

>But now, one question comes up.
>Do you even want to go back?
>Is anything waiting for you back home?
>You'd probably be considered dead if somebody cared enough to remember where you lived and not find you there.
>So what's wrong, Anon?
"Well..."
>Well?
"I have no idea."
>That's your answer for everything.
"I wanted to..."
>What, Anon?
>Do you ever know what you want?
"Wanted to be unique here, I guess?"
>Well, tough shit.
>Work with what you have, faggot.
>You'll make it.

>TrixAnon Stories: Part 5.

>You get off the bed.
>Your brain takes a second to adjust to your new posture.

>The dim oil lantern under the ceiling illuminates the rocky walls of the whatever you're in right now.
>You cannot make out any details in the dark, but you can clearly spot the contour of a table with some things on it.
>Well.
>The chilling atmosphere gets to you, and your small body quivers, leaving you unable to control yourself for a moment.
>You take a step forward.

>A loud clicking sound, followed by a blinding light shining right above you, reflecting off the cold stone floor and illuminating a bit more things than you could see prior.
>Now you see the glass jars, tubes and flasks on the table before you, looking not quite as menacing as you made them out to be in your head.

"SHIT!"
>Something startles you, flying a millimetre away from your nose.
>You instinctively fly off backwards, hitting your flank on the end of the bed.
>"I'm guessing this is yours."
>A very loud mare voice rings throughout the room.
>You look down on the object that nearly hit you.
>It's your diary.
>It seems a lot bigger now that you're two times smaller than you were before.
>You look up again.
>Well.
>This wasn't here before.
>A very purple unicorn, about just as tall as a human you, in a lab coat.

>What is it with ponies and clothing?
>They look better in it rather than without.
>You'd think it would be the other way around.

>Anyway.

>"Anon."
>How does she know your name?
>Did she turn you into a pony?
>What is even happening?
>You feel cold.
>Dead inside as well, but that's normal.


>"I know it's hard to adjust to your new form, but you gotta pay attention."
>You get out of your trance.
>You force air through your throat and move your tongue.
"I-I'm listening."

>"First, let's get everything sorted. Do you have any questions?"
>Do you?
"Am I forever a pony now?"
>She smirks.
>A glimpse of warmth comes through the obviously forced smile, but the pony quickly prevents you from getting more comfortable.
>"No, this is temporary. We had to do this for reasons which you'll understand later. I'd be more worried about your current situation, if I were you."

>What is your current situation, even?
>Being a small horse in the middle of some basement somewhere in Equestria?
>That's really nothing to worry about, to be honest.
>"As we can tell, your bombing did enough damage to cause chaos in Canterlot, even when other cities haven't yet gotten the news."
>W-what?
"B-bombing?"
>"Don't even try denying it."
>But you were at the show!
>Have you been in a coma or something?

>"We discovered human technology being the main part of the explosive mass."
>T-that's kinda racist, isn't it?
"Why would I even want to bomb something?"
>What even happened?

>"Now it's our job to find out why."
"But I'm right here!"
>"We'll ask you last, after getting all the evidence."
>The light shines even brighter, making your eyes hurt like they've been stabbed.
>You blink, and when you open your eyes, the entire basement opens up before you.
>Walls made of reinforced mud, holding trays and shelves of flasks, paperstacks and jarred insects put pressure on you.

>You take a step in the direction of what seems like the exit, a hole in the wall with a visible staircase and warm yellow light coming out of it.
>"Not so fast, Anon."
>The horse puts a hoof on your shoulder.
>The fabric of her lab coat tickles your neck.
>"Let me explain the situation to you."
"A-alright."
>You do not dare moving any muscle except your lips and tongue.

>"You'll be living here in Manehatten for the duration of the investigation. You'll try fitting in with another ponies so you see what you've done. You have to know the consequences of your actions, and we believe that this is the right choice."

>Seriously?
>Well, you guess you kinda know the reasoning, but still... Isn't letting a potential psycho loose around fillies kind of a bad idea?
>"Don't forget, we'll be monitoring you."


>Oh yeah, that makes sense, then.
"What do I need t--"
>You turn to the last position you heard the pony's voice from...
>And find nothing.

>Well.
>Alright.

>You move on, then.
>Don't forget, Anon, you came here for the adventures.
>Whatever happens to you, don't question it and roll with the situation.

>Step one.
>Step two.
>One.
>Two.

>Every single one ringing through your ears, like a leaky tap in the middle of a quiet night.
>This walking thing isn't too hard.
>You can do it on autopilot, but when you focus on walking your human brain kicks in and starts flipping out.
>Well, just as you'd imagined.
>You've read a lot of greentexts about transformation, after all.

>Hm.
>Not that they were good, though.
>You just didn't think about it a lot.
>Assumed that that's how it would look like.

>You look around, seeing strange patterns on the walls, with big plush toy-like things propped up against them.
>This place's strange.
>You gotta get out.

>...

>A solid 10 minutes of wandering about later, you finally come up the spiraling staircase into a cramped hole with only one exit apart from the way down, a half-open trapdoor in the ceiling.
>You stand under it, getting ready for whatever is waiting for you outside.
>Your hoof pressed firmly against the door, you push with your shoulder, trying not to use too much force.
>With some friction against the wooden framing it gives, and you use your other hoof to throw it open.

>For God's sake.
>How did you even end up here, Anon?
>In a magical pony world, disguised as a magical pony, climbing out of a dumb secret experiment dungeon.
>What the fuck.

>You barely catch the outer edge of the frame and pull yourself up to ground level.
>Finally.

>Looking around, you don't notice anyone around.
>Nobody's home, it seems.

>Time just as fit as any to recollect your thoughts.

>As if you haven't been doing that too much lately already, Anon.
"I'm trying to focus, alright?"
>Too much shit has happened to you lately.
>Can't afford to lose your mind right now, Anonymous.

>Can't afford a single fuckup.
>You do something stupid right now, your head gets bolted right off your neck.
>And the neck's not even yours.

>This is exactly what your mom warned you about, Anon.
"What, don't get into trouble with the government of a country governed by small magical equines from an 80's show?"
>Nice strawman, faggot.
>Don't you remember?

>"You're always on about your adventures, Anon."
>"Me and mom just can't win with you. You won't get a job, you won't find friends, hell, the only thing you do is sit around reading books all day, and you probably won't ever write one!"
>"I'm sorry, 'Nonny, but we have to do this."
"Have to do what?"
>"You'll live alone from now on. You'll have to take care of yourself, you know, by yourself."
>"This is our only choice."
>"Here are your keys. We're going to drop you off by tomorrow. Get your stuff ready."
>Your mom clasped your hand with hers.
>Now they don't seem as big as they used to.
>They barely cover half of your palm.
>Though, these hands to still feel as warm as ever.
>Mom was never a great actress.
>Never could hold back tears.
>Now that you think about it, it ain't that bad of a thing.
>"Anon."
>She calls out to you, even though you've been here all this time.
>"Please don't get yourself into trouble."


"I won't, mom. I promise."

>You may have said that out loud.
>Whatever.
>It's like the first time you stay up late after moving out and try being quiet not to wake anyone up, but then realise that you can be as loud as you want.
>It's this sense of freedom you craved while you were planning your trip here.
>But you didn't get it, did you.
>It's all going on without you.
>You're like a journalist on a battlefield.
>You're kind of in the action, but you're not exactly participating in it.
>Why are you even here?
>This all is hardly an adventure.

>But, you still couldn't have predicted or even imagined the things that have happened to you here.
>It was quite awesome, if you say so yourself.

>You lie down on the warm floor.
>Your eyes aren't giving any information to your brain right now.
>It's as if you're in the Void.
>Floating about.
>Stars slowly crawling past you, your fur feeling hot, radiating heat from your body to the vacuum of space.

>"Anon!"
>What.
>Horse.
>Purple horse.
>Purple horse on your twelve, looking down on you.
>She touches your cold muzzle with her hoof, bringing you back into the mortal realm.
>"What's up?"

>Your mouth feels like it's filled with oil.
"Just, uh."
>She raises an eyebrow at you.
"You know."
>Tilts her head.
"Suffering."

>"Aha."
>She smirks.
>"Right."

>"So, are you ready to start?"
"Start what?"
>"I'll take that as a ”yes”."
>Why does this always happen to you.
>Every time.

>Flash of light, followed by another.
>And another.
>A vortex of flashing lights and blinding spots of darkness, floating around you in an unrecognisable pattern, overloading your brain.
>Well, what's left of it.

>It really has been fried by these ponies.
>If this continues for any longer, you'll become a caveman.

>Well, a cave pony.

>...

>Is that even a thing?

>Your fingers move on their own.
>Grasp your face.
>Your chin, your nose, everything.
>Trying to see if you're real or not.
>'Cause you don't know anymore.

>"Anon."
>You release your face from the deadly grip of your numb digits.
>Knock.
>Knock.
>Trixie's up already?
>It's not even morning.
>Knock.
>Why did you even come here?
>"ANON!"
>Oh, yeah.
"Yeah, yeah. Wait."
>"Anon, this is important."
>The muffled voice continues to assault your ears with its high pitch and smug tone.

>You open your eyes to look the voice in its eyes and tell it to shut up.
>How do you open your eyes, again?
>You try imagining how your eyes look.
>You move the right muscles.
>Flash of light.
>Blind.
>Blind.
>Blind.
>Trixie.
>The tip of her hat drooping down onto your face is almost poking your eye out.
"Get away from me."