[Scrawled on the inside cover of the notebook is a message.]

Lyra,

If you are reading this notebook, it probably means I'm too far-gone and I've entrusted it to you. If not, put the book down, and go do something else instead of prying. In this book, you'll find a few letters written to various people. These pages will be marked in the top right-hoof corner with your cutie mark. On these pages, I will also provide preferred methods of contact, and in the case of email, account access credentials. Please ignore any other pages that have writing on them.

~Soren

[The first few pages are blank. The first page marked with a lyre yields instructions that the letter is to be copied to a scroll and delivered in person.]

Dear Mom and Dad,

I know in recent years our relationship has been strained—even before this whole pony incident—with my unemployment but I want you to know that I've never stopped loving you both. That being said, you've probably guessed that if you're reading a letter instead of seeing me in person, I'm not coming home. Believe me, there's nothing more in the world that I'd have liked more than to come back. That’s just not possible in the present situation any more. I’m sorry.

Since arriving here in Equestria, things have been pretty hectic. Hell, just getting here was an adventure—plus a head injury—and a half. In my first moments here, I woke up only to find my host's body going into heat. Since that time, I've eaten hay, been chased around town by the local party pony, gone to a library inside a tree, visited a spa, and saved a child's life. This has all been in just the first day, and I've still got a party to go to.

I won't get into the specifics of why I can't return home aside from the knowledge that human bodies do not react well to being in Equestria, it seems. Know this though, I have a better chance to lead a successful and happier life here in Equestria than I ever did back home. There's a place for everypony in Equestrian society based on the merits of their special talent. I'll probably have a far easier time getting on my hooves here than I ever did there...

You don't have to worry about me here, either. I've got ponies who genuinely care for me as though I had always been here. Even the pony who caused this whole thing isn't that bad of a pony, and she's doing her best to take care of me in my last days as me. I'm in good hands.
Your loving son, always,

~Soren Friedrich

[The next few pages are torn out or blank. The next lyre-marked page bears no particular need for instructions.]

Dear Princess Celestia,

As of the time I am writing this letter, I have only been in Equestria for a few hours. In that time, your subjects have shown me more friendship than I ever thought possible, or even rightly deserve. They—your faithful student Twilight Sparkle included—have shown me through caring and concern that you don't have to know somepony all too well or even be from their world to qualify for friendship. Even though my mind is slowly eroding under the memory imprint of another, they're doing their best to show me a good time. You have many good ponies under your leadership, dear Princess, and I'm proud to call some of them friends.
Your not-quite-yet pony subject,

~Soren

[Scribbled at the bottom of the page is the message, “Lyra, please indulge a fool's silly little wish. It's not every day a pony fan goes to Equestria.”]

[The next marked page looks as though it was considered for removal after writing, having been torn in the margin. The instructions on this page provide the log-in credentials for an email address, as well as a recipient email.]

Jericho,

I know the last time we spoke ended pretty miserably—hell, I wasn't even sure I wanted to write this letter—but you deserve a proper goodbye. I really wasn't playing around the other night, but rather than get into all that shit about ponies, I'm going to tell it to you like it is. By the time you receive this e-mail (if it even gets sent), the man you knew as Soren Friedrich won't exist any more, and you'll never hear from him again. My memories are being overwritten, and there's nothing I can do. I meant what I said back in that IM after you stormed off. I really do love you like a brother. So what if we weren't blood brothers? The Mandalorians always said “Aliit ori'shya tal'din; family is more than bloodline.” I take that sentiment to heart. From one brother to another, goodbye. It was an honor having you as my best friend.

~Soren

[The second to last marked page bears no instructions, only a letter.]

Lyra,

I won't lie; when all of this began, I'd have liked nothing better than to slit you open from stem to stern and danced in your entrails. I was just so angry at the time. It was just so much grief for the wrong day, but come to think of it, I'm not sure I actually went through the denial and bargaining stages. I'm pretty sure I just started out pissed and then worked my way into depression. Still, you've helped me through that just today. You dragged me around and made sure I did stuff, met ponies, and helped me accept what was happening. I'm thankful for what you've done—and what I expect you'll continue doing after I write this.

That being said, you're really something else Lyra. Running around in that flimsy bed sheet with your nipples poking through... You really had no idea how tantalizing that was for me, do you? Then again, I suppose I can't blame you. Human sexuality is a strange thing, and I doubt you'd have picked up on that sort of thing unless you researched that sort of thing... but how could you have with the way you hugged me in the mud-bath? Skinship is all well and good between two comfortable individuals, but what you did came off as incredibly sexual, for I am(was?) a heterosexual male having two very nice breasts pressed against me. If you had known, I'd probably have accused you of being a tease.

I want to thank you and Bon-Bon again for taking me in. It really means the world to me. It might be asking a bit much, but when this is all over and done with, do you think you two might take me in for a time until I'm back on my hooves. Celestia knows, I'll probably need all the help—and therapy—I can get. Likewise, I'd like my thanks passed on to everypony. Twilight, Rarity, and Fluttershy all helped so much and there isn't anything I can do to repay them, and likewise, Pinkie is probably working her flank to the bone getting that party set up even as I write. Best you thank her for me too.

You have my best wishes in regards to your desire to have a foal. You and Bon-Bon may both be mares, but if there's something stories have told me is that love will find a way. She might have a dislike for foals, but I'm sure if you can prove you're responsible, she'll at least consider the idea.

Goodbye,

~Soren

[This last marked page has written at the top of the page “Return to Sender.” The note to Lyra explicitly directs her to give this letter to Soren once everything is done and over with.]

Hey there, future me. I have no doubt that you're probably confused as all hay right now. You're either sitting there with a noggin devoid of any memories not pertaining to the last week, or worse, you're sitting there with all of somepony else's memories knowing that you're a completely different pony with their memories. In that case, you're probably conflicted about your identity too. Don't panic. Flipping out won't solve anything.

Just make sure you listen to Lyra or Bon-Bon, or Twilight or whoever is there with you. They'll help you through this, and get you set up on your hooves. I don't know what sort of pony you'll become, or what your special talent will be when the time comes, but I'm incredibly proud of you. We're strong at heart, even if we don't always cope well with things. Know that regardless of where our life leads us here in Equestria, our heart will never lead us astray. It's been quite a ride, but this is our home now. Let's make it worthwhile.

I have only one final thing to say. “Aliit ori'shya tal'din; family is more than blood.” Our bloodline may lie in the old world, but family is what we make it. It can be whoever you choose it to be. Always remember this.

[Tucked in the back of the notebook is a crumpled sheet of note-paper that has been torn out and once more tucked into the book.]

Okay. People always say that writing things down can be a good way of dealing with things. With all the shit that has been going down, it seems like a better option that potentially making anypony uncomfortable. Heck, even Twilight—that studious little bookworm—seemed uncomfortable with the prospect of learning the male mind's insights on being in estrus. Hell, I'll give it a shot.

It's been driving me abso-fuckin-lutely crazy trying to ignore all these feelings. Sure, there's the warmth between the haunches and that pheromonal musk that advertises how ready Lyra's body is, but really? That's nothing. That's something that I've been able to put mostly out of my mind today. I haven't even really had to worry about inadvertently flagging some poor stallion with the way my back end has been covered by my blanket-made-cloak. Easy peasy.

Instead, I've been trying terribly to ignore this almost constant arousal. The whole day, my whole body has been tense, like some sort of full-body erection. I'm embarrassed by all of the thoughts I couldn't allow myself to feel, like when Lyra rubbed my ears. That felt really good, don't get me wrong, but it also felt so... sexual. How could I have been so aroused by ear play? I mean, fuck. I'm pretty sure I felt myself winking down there. How fucked up is that?

Then there's the desires. Of course there's the biological “You should procreate,” element to it all. That's probably what sickens me the most. There was some part of me—or Lyra, maybe—that yearned to be filled. Even as I'm letting my mind cross onto this slippery—ick!—topic, impulses and images bubble up telling me exactly what I should do. Lyra's body whispers that it would feel very good to let somepony ravish my marehood—just let them stretch it wide and 'hopefully' fill it with seed—and ensure 'my' bloodline carries on. Unwilling memories of Lyra and Bon-Bon engaging in all sorts of lewd acts soon follow. The only real thing that helped when these thoughts assailed me was that I'm not attracted to Lyra's lover in the least, even if her body is.

That's not the worst bit. The part that I never even hinted at when I mentioned the topic to Twilight was the Lyra factor. Well, it isn't actually Lyra I find myself attracted to—at least I don't think, but rather the body she's in. There's something undeniably erotic about seeing my own body as the opposite sex. Some sort of morbid wish-fulfillment? It doesn't help the way Lyra has unwillingly flaunted that body in front of me. That bed-sheet toga was bad enough. Just seeing my erect nipple poking through the thin cloth left me uncomfortably moist. When she started pressing my breasts against me in that spa mud-bath, I was afraid I was going to give into my arousal and jump her—my?—bones right then and there, for everypony to see—especially or everypony to see. That's what they call narcissism, isn't it?

Just thinking about all this leaves me feeling both ashamed and aroused. What would even happen if I just accepted this body and all the desires that came with it? Would I do something I regret? Would I discover something amazing? Could I make a new friend? Why did I even start thinking about this line of thought? God, I hope I get a chance to shower again before the party. Last thing I need is Pinkie declaring “Somepony's been naughty!” in the middle of the party in that adorable voice. That'd drive the nail home, and then there would be no denying anything any longer.

[Hastily scrawled on the bottom of the page, seemingly post crumple, is a message, “Despite how embarrassing this page was, I couldn't bring myself to burn it. If I denied this page's existence, I'd be lying to myself about what I'm going through. If you read this Lyra, I hope you can maybe understand just how uncomfortable you made me at times. I just hope I don't do anything I'll regret.”]

Author's Notes:

Re-edited 11 July 2017
Not nearly as edited as previous chapters, so as preserve the illusion of someone writing letters.