“So, you made a friend today? Am I to understand this correctly?”

“Gratin and I totally hit it off. I hope we meet up again.” While Blackbird spoke, she appeared to be quite pleased with herself, and while Dim liked seeing her this way, it also filled him with some strange, unidentifiable fear. Now, more than ever, Blackbird posed as a mystery.

“Why? How?” Dim worried, fearing whomever else Blackbird might hit it off with.

“We both like little ponies.” Blackbird’s smile was teasing and drove Dim to distraction.

“This is worthy of friendship?” This was quite strange, and Dim was pretty certain that he didn’t like sharing. While he tried to control his possessive feelings, they were strong, confusing, and more than a little scary. He was not a pony given to sharing, no, Dim took and he kept. In a stunning moment of self discovery, Dim found that he had a jealous bone.

“I think so. It is a common bond we share. We both like little, fuzzy, cute things.”

Ears perking, Dim rejected this notion. He wasn’t little, at least by pony standards, he most certainly wasn’t cute. That said, he was rather fuzzy however, this much was true, but he resented Blackbird right now for pointing it out. Why the resentment? He didn’t know, but it felt right. Earlier, she had threatened his masculine dominance when she said she wanted to boop-boop his dimples. Now, she had called him little, fuzzy, and cute.

It was degrading in the worst way.

If sexual harassment existed, then so did equine harassment, and it was awful. In mere moments Dim achieved an incredible level of understanding of what mares of the world must go through, with catcalls, hooting, wolf-whistles, and the like. And now, he was on the receiving end of harassment that was just as degrading and demeaning. How could Blackbird do this to him?

Did she not respect his equinity?

Now, Dim found himself in the same sort of trap as those who became objectified sex objects faced: he would have to live up to Blackbird’s expectations, he would have to be little, fuzzy, and cute, because if he wasn’t, something else that was little, fuzzy, and cute might get her attention, and it was in that moment that Dim understood the way of the world. It was awful. Demeaning. Degrading. If he rejected the whole cute pony thing, he would be looked over and potentially ignored—unloved—left unfulfilled—replaced by somepony else that would embrace the shameful, humiliating state of existence that was being a cute pony.

There were feminists, masculinists, and at this moment, at this time, a newborn equinist.

“There is more to me than being cute and fuzzy and having a brushable mane and tail,” said Dim to Blackbird, feeling a need to protest his objectification.

“Not much more,” was Blackbird’s teasing response. “Say, Dim, would you like a carrot? I filched some from the tea party.”

Mouth watering, Dim found that he would very much like a sweet, sugary carrot, but he had no taste for the glaze of shame, degradation, and humiliation that coated said carrot. If he rejected the carrot, would Blackbird go out and find another cute, fuzzy, tiny equine to stuff her carrots into? He could try biting at her fingers, but that could go bad, as Blackbird could bite too. Those who submitted to equine harassment and bore the shame of it were rewarded with tainted love and fulfilment… and those who did not… in moments, Dim was overwhelmed with a new type of insecurity and a feeling of doubt that he did not like, not at all. He wanted carrots, he wanted to be brushed, to be given affection, but he didn’t want to be belittled or diminished from it.

A new and dangerous game had begun at some unknown point, and Dim did not understand the rules…

When the sun dipped down near the horizon, the temperatures plummeted and Dim was almost certain that he would die from the cold. As the creeping darkness intensified, hoarfrost formed an icy crust along the deck and the nacelle above. Little spikes of ice formed along the prow, a beautiful sight to behold, but a dreadful sensation to feel. Dim’s tattered cloak was far too thin to protect him from this kind of cold.

Even though he longed to feel the embrace of night, it was time to go indoors and seek refuge. Below them, it appeared as though a storm was brewing, but up here they would be safe. The air was thin, but also crisp, clear, and invigourating. Dim did notice that he had to breathe a whole lot more to get the air he needed, but it wasn’t too labourious. In a way, it was pleasant, life-affirming, a reminder to breathe more and be conscious of one’s efforts.

Faces formed in the hoarfrost, Dim could see them, they looked like spirits contorting in agony, eyes wide, mouths open, screaming, shrieking, wailing about their frozen fate. Luminous wisps of plasma formed along the steel rails and the support struts that connected the ship to the nacelle. The storm below had to be intense for corona discharges to happen this far above.

In silence, Dim turned to go.

Indoors, it was no better. It was cold and the air was thin. Laying in a hammock, Dim was almost certain that he was going to freeze to death, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to survive this journey. There was a searing hot steam pipe in the middle of the closet they called their room, but condensation was freezing into jagged crystals on the walls. The entire ship creaked and the metal sang a strange song as the cold crept into the very bones of the vessel.

Each breath he took froze into tiny flakes of snow that drifted down in a tiny swirling blizzard. This was a miserable experience and it seemed that no matter how he wrapped himself in his cloak and his blanket, he could not get warm. Laying in his hammock left him vulnerable and exposed, with no real insulation. At any minute now, Dim was certain that he was going to chip his teeth, because he couldn’t get them to stop chattering.

Death by hypothermia seemed certain.

Magic was an option, but it was draining and he could only keep a spell going for so long before facing exhaustion. At some point, he would need to sleep, and then he would be in trouble. As he lay there, cocooned in his blanket and his cloak, Dim began to understand why the ancient ponies of old wore clothing—wore fur and hide—and he was certain that if he had access to such things he would be wearing them now without disgust or complaint.

“Dim… Dim, I’m worried about you.”

Beneath him, Blackbird had her own troubles, those being that she really didn’t fit into her hammock all that well. Still, she had somehow managed to get situated after many failures and falling onto the floor at least a dozen times. A few of those times she had almost burned herself on the pipe in the middle of the room. What had been a most wonderful day had turned into one nightmarish night.

“Dim, get down here and sleep with me—no! I didn’t mean like that! Uh, um… come down here and let me get you warm. Uh, no, that doesn’t sound good either.”

Somehow, he managed to focus long enough to cast a spell, and with a flash, Dim went from one hammock to another. The moment that he appeared atop Blackbird, she began to peel away his blanket and his cloak, and then combine them with her own blanket. Her dense pelt and her supple skin were as hot as a furnace to Dim’s icy body, and he clung to her, shivering. After a moment of fussing with blankets, Blackbird wrapped her wings around Dim in an insulating cocoon. These were not short pegasus wings, but massive griffonesque wings that completely swallowed him.

“Don’t get no funny ideas,” Blackbird warned as she wrapped her somehow boneless body around Dim. “You’re like ice. Ugh, you’re so cold it hurts me to have you touch me. I should have said something sooner.” While she spoke, she continued to tuck the blankets around them in a cocoon, lifting and twisting her body so that she could slip the edges and corners beneath her.

Now that he was a little warmer, Dim’s shivering intensified and he curled into a fetal position atop Blackbird’s stomach. He pulled in his legs and his hooves as close and as tight to his stomach as possible, all while rubbing himself against her, cherishing her warmth. With luck, he might soon feel his hooves, legs, and testicles again, though he wasn’t looking forward to the pain that was sure to come when they thawed out.

“I’m not even that cold. Well, I mean, I’m a little cold, but I’m not cold like you are cold. I guess it is because I am made for these high altitudes and I have magic that allows me to breathe thin air and I have this thick, fuzzy coat that keeps the cold out.”

Gritting his teeth, Dim tried to stop shivering and he hated Blackbird just a tiny bit for having something that he did not. The hammock swayed from side to side and he could not help but wonder what might happen in heavy turbulence. Would the pipe be a danger? It might. The pipe was hot enough still to steam, but somehow offered no real heat to the room.

“I wonder what my mom is doing right now,” Blackbird asked and her voice had a rather foalish quality to it. “I keep having bad dreams that the trail goes cold and I can’t find her. There’s been a lot of dreams, actually. My mother was good to me and now I just have to find her so I can help her get straightened out and we can be together, and maybe we can talk about my dad. I miss him too, but it is easier somehow, because he’s gone and I don’t have to worry about him.”

In a hazy moment of vague awareness, Dim realised that he was being cuddled, and he thought about how he had felt earlier. Thinking about it now, he was too cold to care. If Blackbird wanted to collar him and tie ribbons in his mane, he would probably let her just so he could stay warm. But the moment he thawed out… there would be a reckoning. Why, he might even raise his voice.

“I’m scared to go to sleep, Dim,” Blackbird whispered and her voice was now more foalish than it had ever been before. “I keep having bad dreams… Dim, I killed a few ponies… it all happened so fast and everything was so confusing. My dad, he’s in my dreams, and he scolds me. I feel bad about what I’ve done, Dim, I feel so guilty, and my dad, he’s not here to tell me that everything is okay and that I just did what I had to do, or whatever it might be that he would say. I don’t know what he would say about everything that just happened, and that bothers me.”

“There is one pony whom I have killed that I have deep regrets about,” Dim said in response and then he noticed that he could hear Blackbird’s heart beating just beneath his left ear.

“Darling?”

“Yes.” Dim’s voice was a pained hiss as it slipped out from between his still chattering teeth. “Sometimes, I think about what you said… about the abuse… about me being a victim too…”

“And?”

“I just think about it.” Dim’s ear twitched and thumped against Blackbird’s breastbone. It was starting to become warm and a bit humid beneath her wings. He didn’t mind, he welcomed it, and as he thawed out, he realised that this wasn’t as comfortable as one might think. She had bones, hard places, Blackbird did not make for a comfortable bed, and the back of his mind informed him that she was probably just as uncomfortable as he was.

“I don’t know what is going to happen between us.” Blackbird inhaled and Dim rose with her girth. “Darling… it seems that I have to share you with a ghost, and after talking with Short Stitch, I think I’m okay with that. I didn’t mean to blab your secrets, but I needed some help. I hit a real low point while you slept.”

“I do not begrudge you.”

“Thanks, that actually means a lot. It feels good to tell you, because I’ve been worried about it and feeling guilty, and after the killing I done, that bit of extra guilt bothered me.”

Dim felt her talons move between him and her wing. He tensed a little, not knowing what to expect, and then he felt the dangerous tickle-prickle of her talon-fingers against his scalp. It was, at the same time, both exhilarating and terrifying. Fingers were also quite pleasurable and in mere moments, he was rendered powerless, much in the same way that he was when Chantico stroked him. This, along with the steady rise and fall of Blackbird’s girth beneath him as well as the abundance of warmth left him drowsy.

Even though he was certain that Blackbird had more so say, Dim slipped off into fitful slumber…

Author's Notes:

I don't know what happened here, but I decided to deconstruct sexual harassment. Feel free to rake me over the coals in the comment section. I might kinda sorta deserve it.