I glare angrily at the e-mail application on my tablet. It's been more than two hours since I sent her my e-mail, but she won't respond. If anything, I want to shout obscenities to whatever deities will listen and damn Lyra.

Sent 2 hours 37 minutes ago
To: T00tyFruityLyra1996
Subject: You blew up my computer you crazy mare!

Lyra, you're a damn maniac. You know that, right? I had expected a bit more warning, and maybe a chance to discuss this with you before this happened. I would have asked that we hold off until after the family reunion we'd had planned today. Instead, you cast the spell before I can even get a word in, and then my computer explodes.

Since finding myself in your form, I've had nothing but embarrassment and awkward situations. Did you not think of what the consequences might be for me if I was suddenly not the same person? Never mind the fact that my parents are asking questions I was never prepared to answer for one moment. I should not have to feel guilty because I took a shower.

But no, because I'm not male any more, I couldn't just let the shower wash away the ash and debris. Instead, I got to experience something that by all rights should be between you and whoever you share your love-life with. Under any other circumstances, I'd have loved the chance to feel such things. It's not my body though, so I shouldn't have to feel like a scumbag every time I wash it.

Now I'm stuck in my room until god knows how much later tonight while my family is down there dining. I haven't had a chance to see my niece in ages, but if I go down there, I'm going to have to go through this lengthy explanation about your world—again—and then out myself as a Brony and pray to god I'm not misinterpreted as some sort of paedophile.

To top things all off, I'm stuck with my dinky little e-reader tablet, tapping this message using a pen in your mouth! It should not take me the better part of an hour to write a tirade about how badly my life has been screwed by your irresponsibility...

Lyra, if you're still reading this, I'm sorry for how hateful I must seem right now. It's just that this has been a pretty terrible day overall for me, and you're the only vent I have right now. I hope you're not mad at me. Not just about this message, either. The shower thing, too. It's just one of those things that I couldn't help.

Is there anything I should know about your body? Health conditions, allergies? Perhaps what gets you drunk? I feel like I might need a bit of intoxication before today is over. No, seriously. I think if I were blackout drunk, this might be so much easier. Sure, there'd be the question of “What in the nine hells did I do last night?” as well as forgetting how I became a pony, but it seems like it'd be a step up from the hell today has been so far.

Oh, and to answer the question from the first email, skip the hay. The human body only has one stomach, and wasn't designed for roughage like hay. The flowers might be toxic to a human but not to a horse. Stick to fruits and vegetables, grains like rice, oats, and bread, and dairy products since you're probably not keen on eating meat. Eggs are fine though. I’m pretty sure you guys are fine with that aren’t you?

Sorry again about my terseness,
~Soren

P.S. I had your mane tied in a bun. It just felt too weird against the back of my neck and shoulders.

P.P.S. Touch the goatee and I’ll eat a steak.

I know I'm just as much to blame for my bizarre situation. All it would have taken was a clear and concise no, and I would have gone on like normal. I could be downstairs right now, grilling burgers for everybody and enjoying a feast fit for me! Lyra could have been someone else's problem. Simple as that.

A guy can only read so much of a story he's already completed, too. If my desktop didn't explode this morning, I would have easily been able to go online and grab an .epub of ‘Project Horizons’. Instead my fate turned out to be wickedly cruel, seven times over. Get it? It's my pen name and—fuck, who am I kidding? My puns are lame as all hell.

With a defeated sigh, I lay my head to rest on my pillows. I can almost make out the conversations being held downstairs. Hillary and Klein are talking about how things have been in Alberta, while Valerie is insisting that Harriet finish her dinner before they have dessert. All seems to be going well. Maybe if I just take a little nap, this day will be over.

A guy can certainly dream that things are that simple. I’m not sure if being a unicorn gives you some sort of empathic precognition, or if it is just a bad feeling. All I know is that the moment I shut my eyes, my anxiety level skyrockets, and suddenly there’s this sick feeling in my stomach. Something bad was going to happen, and soon.

You can probably imagine the sort of apprehension I feel when the tablet pings right next to my ear. Is my tablet going to join my desktop in the electronics burial mound in my bedroom? Or am I going to get bad news about my body from Twilight about how Lyra’s been banished to the moon? Granted, hearing from Twilight would be almost worth finding out my body is trapped on Luna’s moon.

Tentatively, I open the e-mail application. Given my previous luck, it’s completely reasonable to be ready to dive off the bed at the first sign of trouble, right? Right? Yeah, you know I’m right. Sure enough, Lyra responds shortly after I decide it’s nap time.

Received moments ago
Sender: T00tyFruityLyra1996
Subject: Re: You blew up my computer, you crazy mare!

I’m terribly sorry about your computer, Soren. I honestly didn’t know that was going to happen—that any of this was going to happen. I suppose I was pretty hasty, in casting the spell. You probably have every right to be mad. Bon-Bon always says I get a bit loony when humans are involved. I suppose everypony had the right idea, nicknaming me Loony Lyra.

Hearing about your shower incident, I feel a lot less guilty about succumbing to my own curiosity. I have to confess that I got to know more about both human and male anatomy than I ever expected. Worse, I kind of liked it. I suppose after having a bit of fun myself, I can’t blame you if you do a bit of exploring. Still, don’t do anything weird with my body.

Thanks for telling me about what’s safe to eat. Your stomach was starting to growl, and after seeing your canines, I think Bon-Bon was getting worried that I’d ask to eat her. I’d never do that! I love her more than anything in Equestria—even humans!

You don’t need to worry about anything special in my diet. If you can’t get hay where you are and you aren’t in the city, grass will do. Otherwise, it’s pretty much like what you told me: fruit, vegetables, grains, and dairy. Just watch it with the ice-cream. It goes straight to my flanks. Oh! There is one thing. Tomatoes and potatoes are both toxic to us—mustard too.

About my new stallion—er, manhood. How do you even deal with this thing? It barely ever calms down! It’s almost constantly begging for my attention, and a far as I know, nopony around me is even in estrus! I know humans breed year round, but this is ridiculous! If this keeps up, I might have to ask Twilight for some help. She has to have some sort of spell that can help with this!

Anyway... Pinkie Pie is holding a ‘congratulations on getting your dream even if it wasn’t exactly what you asked for’ party, and I’m the guest of honor. I have to go now, but I promise to get back to you. Maybe while I’m at the party, I can ask Twilight if she can figure out a better way for us to communicate. It certainly sounds like we’re in for a rough time if you can’t get access to another system with a microphone. That's what it's called, right?

You did my mane up in a bun? I never thought about having it like that. It sounds pretty cute! I don’t know how you can live with such short fur, but I guess with the way you evolved, fur became unnecessary. Your own mane is pretty hard to do anything with. I kind of miss the feel of my mane on the back of my neck.

Good luck with tonight.
~Lyra

P.S. If it’s intoxication you’re looking for, I always just go for some hard apple cider!

I cannot help but break into hysterics while reading Lyra’s message. The thought of Lyra falling victim to ‘her own penis’ was woefully hilarious. It sounded like one terrible clop-fic, “Lyra and the Penis!” I wasn’t sure I was completely comfortable that she wasn’t totally mad about the shower thing though. I reckon if I was in her horseshoes—not that I wasn’t already—I’d be royally pissed.

That was when I heard the conversation break downstairs. My girlish laughter clearly has their attention. There’s a long bit of silence, and then my father tries to play it off as my television. Conversation resumes as normal, but my feeling of anxiety remains at the same levels.

If anything, I’m more on edge. That laughter has a certain equine quality to it that I don’t think anyone is going to buy as simply something on television. Any more outbursts, and I’m bound to be caught. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the absence of Soren and strange laughter coming upstairs means weird shit is happening.

I realize that I should probably stop thinking like this. Lyra isn’t going to be happy if I get all stressed and her mane turns completely white as a result. I know this is all having a killer effect on my bladder... Oh fuck, oh no, not now! I can’t go to the bathroom now. All it would take is someone passing by the stairs to blow this whole thing wide open. There’s also the fact that my hooves make too much noise on the hardwood.

I can’t hold it, though; that much is painfully obvious. Since I don’t want my entire room smelling like burnt wiring and horse piss, I have no other choice but to go to the bathroom. Unfortunately, I know that I have no choice but to live up to one of those strange Internet memes: ponies wearing socks. It’s the only way to silence these blasted hooves!

With a sigh, I try to put on random socks as quick as possible. It isn’t easy, but sure enough, I manage to levitate three black socks and one white sock off of the clothing carpeting the area in front of my bed and onto my hooves. I will never breathe a word of this to Lyra, or anybody online. Nobody needs to know about the fetish fuel happening here in my house.

Creeping as quietly as possible, I make my way to the bedroom door. Using the trick I used on the cabinet door, I levitate an intact coffee mug off of my dresser—hey, it’s convenient, okay?—and use it to manipulate the handle. Yes! This is something I can work with! It can push and pull the door handle! Just about the only thing it can’t do is turn the lock on the bathroom door.

Being the aquamarine ninja pony I am, I manage to make it from my bedroom to the bathroom completely unnoticed. I might have danced a jaunty jig had silence not been my goal. I mean come on, four hooves and not a making a peep? That’s pro skills there! Pffft, yeah right. That’s just mad luck and I know it. Besides, if I danced now, I’d pee myself. See? I have my priorities straight; pee first, then jig.

Besides, I still have a challenge to conquer. How in Celestia’s name am I going to use the porcelain throne? My hind quarters barely make it up over the rim, and a pony’s legs aren’t meant to spread in the way that would be required for this body to sit safely up there. No, if I am going to do this, I need to be cunning, creative, and—stop staring at that coffee can! Yeah, I keep a coffee can in the bathroom. It’s the only way my toilet paper is safe from the cats. So what?

The coffee can does give me an idea though. There’s an empty, lidded cat-litter bucket here in the bathroom, right over by the litter boxes—no, I’m not using a litter box either, you idiot—that would make for a decent way to lift my front end. Still, I’m going to need to be pretty deft here. I can’t just have it in front of me and just put my hooves up. I’ve gotta bring it in with magic!

I look again at the toilet and thank the heavens I cleaned it last night, and that I somehow left the lid and seat up. Backing up to the toilet, I press myself against the cold porcelain. I continue doing so until my back legs aren’t actually touching the ground, but instead my haunches are against the rim of the seat. Very carefully, I levitate the bucket over, placing one front hoof on it as it approaches. Nudging it in, I tentatively lift the other hoof up and place it on the lid. Straightening my front legs, I angle my body at forty-five degrees from the toilet, and not a moment too soon.

“Wow, Lyra, you piss like a racehorse,” I can’t help but mutter. I mean come on, I’ve barely eaten all that much today, and I don’t even recall having any drinks. She must have had a lot to drink before all this. It’s a wonder I didn’t just piss myself when I was knocked out on my bed after the explosion.

I sigh contentedly, relieved that I’ve averted at least one crisis. Not wanting to drip any remaining urine about the house, I step down from the container and focus on the toilet paper. I screw my eyes shut as the stuff levitates towards ‘my’ marehood and begins gently wiping. I try to ignore all the strange sensations, and for the most part succeed. It’s nothing like the shower, so I don’t think I’m at risk of turning a sanitary probing into one of another manner.

Flushing the soiled tissues and vacated waste materials, I smile to myself at a job well done. “Pshh... Coffee can. Why would I even think about that? That’s just lazy!” I giggle again, forgetting about the company. “I wonder if Lyra tried writing her name in the snow. Is it even snowing there? I’ll have to ask and—oh crap.”

I open the door, only to come face to face with my niece. She gives me a wide-eyed look before letting out a squeal of delight. Well fuck, this is, as Rarity would undoubtedly over-dramatize, the worst possible thing. It really is. I watch as Harriet turns and thunders down the stairs.

“Momma, Hillary!” she squeals in that childish way. “Papa and Nana have a real unicorn! It was using the toilet and everything!”

With the time I have, I do the only thing that comes to mind. I dive into the bathtub, force the shower curtain shut, and hide my head under my front hooves. If I can’t see them, they can’t see me! That is the logic of panic, and I’m sticking to that story.

Author's Notes:

Edited by Refro.

Re-edited 10 July 2017