Their childhood wasn’t a particularly happy one.

It was no fault of their parents. They never hit them, and never spoke unkindly towards anyone, even when they did something wrong. They were good parents, all things considered. No, the problem was something else.

It was this unpleasant feeling that loomed above them, each and every day. It hovered in the corner of their mind, unseen, but still painfully present. They weren’t sure what to call it. There were few words that could even come close to describing it, let alone naming it.

It reared its ugly head particularly when they looked in the mirror. There was just something about their reflection that felt so painfully off. It was like looking at a stranger. They felt uncomfortable in their own skin, disgusting one might even say.

Even their name felt wrong.

It wouldn’t be until high school that they realized why they felt that way, and what this mysterious feeling was even called.

Dysmorphia.

The sun was shining as it made its ascent into the sky. Fluffy white clouds drifted by, providing just the right amount of shade. Their was the chirping of frogs as they gathered by a pond, chatting with one another. A perfect start to a perfect day.

However, hidden away in the clearing of a grove, was a pegasus who was inclined to disagree. Pacing from one side of the field to the next, she snorted anxiously. Her wings were clasped tightly to her side, unable to open even if she wanted them to.

There was a questioning grunt from beside her, and she glanced down at the possum by her side.

“Oh, but what if I mess up?” The mare worried, pawing at the ground. The possum bumped his nose against the mare’s soft yellow fur in a comforting gesture. “They’ve worked so hard. I couldn’t bear to see the disappointment on their little faces!”

The possum huffed, and chattered, tail wrapping comfortably around the pegasus’ front hoof. “You’re right.” She wrapped a hoof around the possum, nuzzled him affectionately. “Thank you, Mr. Biscuit. You give the best advice.”

A deep roar interrupted the tender moment, and a mass of brown fur and claws barreled out of the nearby forest. Teeth bared and slobber dripping from his maw, the bear growled.

The pegasus was not frightened, but instead concerned. “Slow down, please,” she urged gently, holding out a hoof to the distressed bear, “I’m afraid I can’t understand you when you talk so fast.”

The bear paused, inhaling deeply through its nose, and huffing a puff of air through its mouth. It gulped, waving its paws around frantically is it recounted what it had seen that had frightened it so badly. A gasp drew from the pegasus’ lips.

“Injured?” Her ears flattened themselves against the blossom pink of her mane, and she quickly thanked the bear before darting off into the woods.

They awoke gradually to the sounds of birdsong. Their mind was sluggish, like wading through a pool of honey. A groan rumbled deep in their throat.

They felt the warmth of the sun on their back, and twitched uncomfortably as it glared into their eyes. Their head turned away from the light, burying into the sweet-smelling material that made up their bed. The sweet, comforting scent of freshly cut grass. It reminded them of spring.

They almost fell asleep again, when they stirred. Grass was not something a bed usually smelled like. A hammock might, they imagined, but they’d never used one, so they wouldn’t know.

Perturbed, they cracked open their eyes. Above them was a canopy of leaves, tinted gold by the sun. Small shapes moved from branch to branch, which they assumed must be birds. Or squirrels.

They twitched, struggling to move. They were so tired - they hadn’t gone to sleep until midnight - and they longed to go back to sleep. But they couldn’t. Not until they figured out what had happened.

They finally managed to sit up, though the position felt awkward. They shifted uncomfortably, their arms supporting them as they leaned forward a bit. That felt more natural, even if they now resembled a cat. All they were missing was the long fluffy tail.

Something soft brushed ticklishly against their leg, and they kicked at it. They spared it a glance through bleary eyes, confused to find a fluffy, wild mess of yellow hairs. They grabbed it and tugged, confused when they felt a pull at the base of their butt.

Their vision focused, and their heart pulsed in their chest. Two thick, black stumps were clinging to the yellow mass - which they now realized was a tail. Holes were burrowed through the thick limbs, almost like burnt Swiss cheese.

They lifted their hands, and the stumps twitched in response. A scream tore from their throat. What else was one to do when their hands had been replaced by whatever unholy abomination this was.

An odd buzzing was heard from behind them, as an even odder sensation moved in their back. They shivered as something thin brushed against their sides, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling in their chest.

It was a horrible, echoing sound, almost like two people were laughing at once. And it was far too high pitched - not feminine, though, just young.

They crumpled to the floor, closing their eyes. They didn’t want to look at their new appendages. They already had enough trouble looking in the mirror, as it was.

A rustle of bushes brought them out of their fearful state, and they glanced warily into the distance. The thick underbrush was moving, as if something alive was shuffling through them.

A thick muzzle popped through the leaves, covered in brown fur. It’s maw opened, massive and filled with sharp, yellowed teeth. A glob of spit dripped from it’s opened lips as it growled, hungry. A pair of eyes emerged soon after, staring at them like a predator would gaze at its next meal.

They screamed, stumbling to their feet. They couldn’t stand up. Every time they tried, they crashed to the ground, again and again. They could feel something warm against their cheek, dripping down and splashing onto the grass.

The monster, startled by their cry, ran off. They didn’t trust it not to come back. So they crept as well as they could to a bush, and hid. What else could they do? They were entirely vulnerable, unable to run in their current state. They would be an easy meal.

They tried not to cry, for fear that the monster would find them.

Author's Notes:

This is my first story on FiMFiction. I’m always looking to improve, so constructive criticism is encouraged.

I wanted to write this story to hopefully convey the kind of things people going through gender dysmorphia feel. I know I didn’t describe it very well - I hardly know how to describe it - but it is based on my own experiences with it.

I do hope you enjoy reading, all things considered.