Pinkie Pie had told me; that there is a room on the second floor, with a bed on which I could sleep. She also told me, of the uniform on the bed, intended for me to wear.

As I open the door to the room she had promised me, I had noticed that the door is reading; “Rutile”, which is what I am known by from now on. The room is indeed furnished with the promised bed and even a night stand.

“What is with her obsession with the pink and balloons?” I ponder, as I notice the glossy pink rubber coated walls in the room.

She may be pink, and have a group of three balloons on her for a cutie mark, but still. She is also eagerly enthusiastic and in your face, bordering on straight up insane. Even by ponies standards, she is so far out there; she could as well have been a far of galaxy.

On the purely positive note, she is kind and generous in a manner I could not even have imagined in my wildest fever dreams. There is an insistent power to her, a spirit not unlike that of a mighty king or even a worshiped deity.

“Don’t question or oppose your owner!” the griffons, who previously owned me; taught me, and they did teach me quite thoroughly.

“Maybe they had a point; even if they had no way of knowing, I was to end up with a pink mare named Pinkamena Diane Pie?” I ponder, giggling at the cosmic joke of it all.

On the pink bed covers; I find the ensemble she had promised. A top, a pair of gloves, a skirt, a pair of panties and a pair of stockings. Well, there are in fact three pairs of stockings for me to choose from. Silly me, how could I have been prepared; for whatever whimsical whims a pink mare could dream up? She certainly could dream up more, than I want to think of. My head would hurt, before I finished the a’s.

I pick up my pair of silicon white rubber panties and step into them, following up by picking up the bright pink rubber skirt and steps into it; only stopping to give the garments a few tentative tugs in order to make sure they are fitting right.

“Okay? That was easy!” I ponder, previously uncertain of the entire business of clothes and uniforms.

I am not exactly used to the idea of wearing clothes; since I never was exposed to it, while the griffon owned me. I had been expecting the foreign objects referred to as clothes, to itch and scratch on my bare and utterly hairless skin. The fears are put to shame, before I had gotten the entire uniform on. I barely feel the panties, and that is the most intimate and sensitive skin I have.

I pick up the matching top and slip it down and find it fairly comfortable, despite the restrictive looking tightness of this garment. It is in fact supporting my breasts in a very affectionate manner.

I pick up the right stocking and slip my foot down; feeling the slippery and smooth rubber material slide all the way to make my toes hit the end of the ride before I could have been prepared. This is making me stumble and almost lose my balance and composure entirely. The pink rubber is so tight; it covers my leg all the way up to my crouch as if painted onto my skin.

Thinking nothing of it; I pick up the left stocking and slip it on. Only this time I manage to slip my foot all the way down without any incident. As I set my left foot down onto the floor, I notice something is odd, but can’t put a finger on what is wrong right away.

As I finally do look down; I find myself standing on a pair of fully equine hooves, not too dissimilar to these my owner Pinkie Pie has. Odd, if you ask me; but, who would ever bother, to ask me?

“Whoa, where did these come from; and how did it happen, in the first place? I did not even notice it happen!” I ponder, giggling at the impossibility and absurdity of my situation.

Girls just do not have hooves, and that is final. Is it still a girl, am I still a girl; if I am walking around on hooves? Living under the roof of a pony may be strange; but under the roof of this pink mare; everything is instantly turned on its head, becoming utterly absurd. I could as well have been a roommate with the spirit of chaos himself and made love to Discord all night, every night. Of course, what if that could have happened to me? What if it actually did happen to helpless little girls, just like me? The mere thought makes Nightmare Night and the Candy Mare feel all jolly and festive, all of a sudden.

I certainly do not like where that train of thought went off to.

“Maybe putting on a pair of gloves, and focus my very soul upon that action will derail this train; before it is reaching the destination?” I ponder, shuddering.

A little girl’s imagination is far too volatile and unpredictable to trust.

There is just the one pair of elbow length gloves. The gloves does have a very elaborate and looks a bit too tight for me. Yet, I had chosen to put on the gloves for a reason, not just to complete the set and experience the entire uniform.

I pick up the pink glove and slip my hand into it, finding it too easy to push all the way through; almost, almost as if the glove actually tried to swallow my hand like a snake swallows a rat. That image is a bit uncomfortable and discomforting; though I am still thankful, for how it is effectively derailing my previous thoughts. I literally see the train going of the rail, and shattering into countless teeny, tiny little fragments, as if it had been made of fragile glass; before it evaporates and floats away on the fresh morning breeze. Now, that is an interesting and appealing image, for me.

After a moment, I feel my hand hit the end of the road; as my skin is touching the rubber and my fingers had slipped through. Now I can see my inch long, crystal clear, semi square, nails that starts just after the final joint of each finger; which incidentally is exactly where the bright pink rubber of the gloves ends, seamlessly.

Once I had given my right glove a few tentative tugs, in order to make sure it is on and fits just right; I pick up my left glove and repeats the process comfortably. I had gotten used to the image; enjoying the tight fit and how it is emphasizing my arms, hands and fingers. Though I still gasp in shock; as I experience the highly sensitive, bright cerise touch pads, before I had even realized that I have them.

“If only I had known! This place is sending me down the most insane rat hole in existence!” I ponder; giggling at myself and making silly faces, at an imaginary mirror before me.

While the garments may be a bit on the tight and restrictive side, I still fit perfectly in the suit or ensemble that is the uniform. It is actually making me feel, as if I am fitting right into the group I had barely even met yet; even if it is my owner Pinkie Pie who had gathered all of us here.

I pick up the final piece of the puzzle, the hat; putting it onto the top of my head, completing the uniform perfectly.

“A bottle of lacquer, for me?” I ponder, as I see the small bottle of clear polish on my night stand.

“Hoof polish! Apply by hand, only!” reads the pink label on the bottle.

“She is expecting me to polish my hooves?” I exclaim, not knowing if I am excited over the gift, or horrified over the extreme absurdity of it all.

Of course, I do not know how or why the uniform was crafted in the first place; just as I had no idea that the suit is enchanted, or the effort put into the process in the first place.

“If she wants me, to polish my hooves; I guess I can make that small a sacrifice for her, after she pulled me out of the grip of the griffon who previously owned me!” I ponder.

The liquid is crystal clear and highly viscous, but with a hint of a blue tint, hinting towards a sapphire. I do know of no such thing, but for some reason; I have strange flashes ever since I came into the possession of Pinkie Pie. Something with that collar she is making me wear, but I do not complain. Now the collar is sporting a Rutile em in the shape of a balloon; exactly like her balloons, but now with a bright, pink silver lining.

After a moment of contemplation, I pick up the bottle and uncap it. I apply the tip of the brush at the upper rim of my right rear-hoof, at the middle and pull it down to the lower edge of the hoof. Now I continue, repeating to the right and left, right and left; until I have coated the entire hoof.

“Of course it is the rear hoof, even if I only have two hooves! If I am still a bipedal girl, it is naturally the rear hooves I am walking on!” I ponder.

I sense no scent or odour, from the lacquer or the newly polished hoof, which I guess is kind of odd. Yet, I do not take the time to reflect upon it or ponder this any further right now. Instead, I continue, by polishing the left hoof. If I polish the right hoof, I have to polish the left hoof; in order to complete the process, and be done with it.

“Interesting; my hooves are turning a shade from pink, to red!” I observe.

“Maybe she wants me, to apply a second coat; repeating this, because the coat is too thin?” I ponder.

Thankfully, the polish is cured and dry, true and through; before I had even finished applying the coat on the other hoof. Once I managed the first, I apply the second, then the third coating. Then I ended up continuing, until I have seven coats. The hoof is quite smooth and glossy and almost red, by now. It is also hard and adamant.

“What if I did apply just one coat onto my nails, too?” I ponder.

With that, I paint each nail in turn, from the nail of the thumb of my right hand and continues with the next; only to start over with the nail of the thumb of my left and, finishing by continuing until each nail had been given an individual coating. Both front and back, sealing the side of the nail; before I was happy with it.

“Just how long will this actually last? I can’t see that I had actually used all that much!” I ponder; as I cap the bottle and put it back, where I had originally found it.

“Looking good!” I exclaim, as I am spreading my fingers before me, after I had placed the now recapped bottle of polish on my night stand.

“Squeak!” I hear my hooves, as I press them down onto the floor.

“Interesting!” I exclaim, as I hear the distinct noise from my hooves.

“I like this!” I add, as a second thought.

I raise to my hooves, and walk to the door of my room; opening the door and closing it behind myself as I continue towards the flight of stairs and bounce all the way down to the ground floor.

Of course, I can’t escape the squeaks; following me, wherever I go, now. Why do I even need to bother escaping the sounds of my own hooves? This is my home and my sisters are looking out for me. I will be looking out for them, just as much they are looking out for me.

“There is always Pinkie Pie; master of confectioneries and loved by all!” I ponder.

"Why would I need to fear Pinkie Pie?” I ponder; “If and when that happens; it is already too late, for too late to consider escaping!” I add.

I continue into the cafe without a thought. The cafe is open, for business.

“A package, for Rutile!” Derpy exclaims, just as she is trotting in through the door.

“I have mail?” I ponder, looking at the grey mail-mare as she continues into the cafe.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak! Squeak, squeak, squeak!” I hear my hooves.

“If Derpy does not hear me, she has to be deaf!” I ponder.

“Hiya, Rutile!” Derpy exclaims.

“Hiya, Derpy!” I respond.

“You have mail!” Derpy points out.

She is pulling out a fairly large package, from her right saddle bag. She manages to handle the package with her mouth; even despite her obvious difficulties. I accept the package.

“Thank you, Derpy!” I add.

“You are quite welcome, courtesy of Rarity!” Derpy responds.

“I guess I will just have to thank her for the gift, too, once I see her, in person!” I point out, giggling.

“Yes, I guess she would appreciate that!” Derpy answers.

“Only in Ponyville!” I ponder; “You are the best of mail-mares!” I exclaim; “The bestest, as Pinkie Pie would have put it!” I ponder, giggling.

“Thank you, Rutile!” Derpy exclaims, before she trots out of the cafe and continues on her mail-run.

“What could Rarity possibly want to give me, on my first day at the cafe?” I ponder, as I turn towards the kitchen and place the fairly large and heavy package onto the table.

Once I safely deposited the package on the table; I extend the index finger of my right hand and break the seal on the package I got in the mail.

I extract two large packages from within the mail. I continue, breaking the seals of both packages and open the boxes, in order to see what they contain.

“Considering the significant weight, these boxes could not be empty! Maybe she had filled them with rocks, or bricks?” I think.

In the first package, I find two sets of tiaras: a unicorn horn, a pair of deer-stags, and a pair of giraffe horns and a unicorn horn; more deliberate than the first, one with a feathery pegasus wing motif and another with a leaf motif for an earth-pony.

“How odd, I think I take the leaves for the earth-pony; something just calls out to me, for me to wear this one!” I ponder, as I pick up the tiara and places it onto my forehead.

Once I had placed the tiara of choice on my head, I put the other once back into the box and closes it in a tidy fashion.

"This, is interesting! But, exactly what is it, and how do I use these?” I ponder.

“If these had been stockings, like the once I am already wearing; Iwould at least have seen a clear picture of what they are and how to use them, while just finding them redundant choices! I already have a full set of full-length stockings for each available option! Now these are looking, as if they are gloves intended for me to slip my hands and arms into; which is tilting the purpose, just a bit on the wild side!” I ponder.

“Maybe I should have taken this up to my room, after all!” I mumble.

“Then you can hide your gift, under your bed!” Ruby suggests.

“Yes; sounds like a prudent idea, thank you Ruby!” I respond; picking up the boxes and carrying them up to my room.

I line up the new set of full-length gloves on my bed, after I had hidden the box of unused extra tiaras under my bed. A pair of pony hooves, a pair of deer hooves, and a pair of giraffe hooves.

Hooves are hooves; but these are suction-cup hooves matching the one I am already walking on, making for a complete set. Maybe that is, what I had been looking for, all along? I had never known of, or been aware of the fact; that I had been looking for them.

All of a sudden, I had an urge; I pick up the bottle of polish and uncap it, before I polish my nails, just as I had done once before. Once had been done; now I continue, twice and thrice. One day’s worth of polishing my nails.

Since I had not polished hooves on the gloves, the way I had done with my stockings; the gloves still do slide off of my hands and arms without too much effort or discomfort. It had been entirely painless. Not that I had been expecting any pain, from just slipping a pair of rubber gloves off of me.

I pick up the right glove and slide my hand in, into it; before I pull it all the way up my arm, all the way to the shoulder. While I had been worried; that I could not handle the other glove with a hoof, but that fear soon came to shame.

I manage to pick up the left glove and slip the end in, pulling the glove on and all the way up to my shoulder. The locally produced latex rubber is just as tight now, as my stockings are. Just that the tightness soon fades out of my mind. It feels as if the gloves had been the skin I had been born with.

I never considered it before, but how does a pony hold a thing in her hooves? I never had a reason to consider it; before I slipped these gloves on. The griffons never had the problem, and Pinkie Pie never stopped to make anything out of it as she manages just fine.

I still do feel the floor, under my hooves; just as I had felt the floor, under my feet before. Now I could grasp the floor with suction, as a quickly produced vacuum could form at will. If I am standing on all fours; this would be true to my fore-hooves, just as it is for my hind-hooves or rear hooves now. Just that this isn’t how a pony naturally grasp an item with her hooves; thus, neither is it how I will do it.

After I had been standing on my hind hooves for a few minutes, wearing these new hoof-gloves; I notice how the rubber is contracting around my arms and remodeling them into a pair of fore-legs in the shape a pony would recognize. A moment later; I find myself falling forwards into an upright standing, quadruped stance.

I trot over to the door, open it and step right out of my room. Closing the door behind myself and continues back to the flight of stairs; bouncing down sure-hoofed, even if not quite like Pinkie Pie would have done it.

To Pinkie Pie, it comes natural; even without ages upon ages of practice and experience. It is never quite this natural to me, even forgetting that I had been born to walk on a pair of feet in a bipedal gait; now I will need to practice and gain experience in order to make it feel and look fully natural and fluent. Either way, I do manage to get down safe and sound; without embarrassing me in the process, even assuming I had an audience in the first place.

“One can never truly embarrass oneself without an audience!” I ponder, giggling at myself.

“I think there is a cart by the back of the cafe; maybe you could use it, to carry some apples from Sweet-apple Accres?” Emerald suggests.

“I will see if I can find it, and if I need help; I will ask you!” I point out, as I trot around the building.

At the back, I do indeed find the cart she had indicated. In surprise, I soon realize that I will have no problem with this cart; it had after all been crafted by an earth-pony, for an earth-pony to use. Earth-ponies are crafty and diligent; never giving up and manages far more than one could have been expecting.

Even if Pinkie Pie is exceptional, ponies like Applejack can still manage unimaginable and quite breathtaking feats without any magic to aid them.

“That was quick, maybe I should just head of to the Sweet-apple Accres; so I can pick up the apples we need for the cafe!” I ponder.

Hitching the cart to my back; had proving to be exceedingly simple and straightforwards an operation, to me. Maybe I am more like the earth-pony Pinkie pie had been looking for, than I could have expected, or imagined.

“Since I had managed the task, to hitch the cart to my back; this should prove easy enough, for me!” I ponder; as I steer my steps towards the destination of the Sweet-apple Accres, trotting along the streets of Ponyville.

The fact that the farm is outside of Ponyville proper does not bother me; I will find my way and manage the task I had put before me. If it is not given by Pinkie Pie herself, but by my sister Emerald; makes no difference here, I will find my way and make the delivery.

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