The first thing I feel upon waking is apprehension. There are so many things that could go sideways today with the potion testing. For example, I could have completely misunderstood something in Zecora’s instructions, like the vague zebra measurement of a ‘fly’—literally just a leveled teaspoon. Hell, if I really bugger this up, I imagine that there’s a good chance I could explode into a fine mist, spreading throughout the building to be inhaled by everypony, leaving several confused and possibly aroused ponies bearing unfamiliar genitals. Yeah, it’s not likely, but I haven’t written out the possibility.

For the most part, though, I think I’m just subconsciously dreading becoming male again. I’ve only been a mare for just under a year, and I won’t deny that this body has brought me my share of discomforts and woes. On that same thread though, I can’t rightly say I hate this body. Sure, when I become aroused, my marehood starts winking and leaking fluids scented with my arousal, but is that really so different from when I was a man, getting an erection at every stray thought?

It occurs to me that, if presented with the opportunity to return to being a male full-time, I’m not sure I could make that decision. I’m actually comfortable being a mare now; it’s something I can accept. Don’t get me wrong, the winking and the production of natural lubricant is most certainly a pain, but in a world where I no longer wear pants, it would take an awful lot to hide my arousal as a stallion without making it obvious as all hell. That’s something I could never be comfortable with.

Worse, given how comfortable that I’ve gotten with my body, what if I find I like being a stallion? Sure, it might make my relationship with Blossom simple on the surface, but how would she actually feel? I know she loves me for me, but the way she speaks of my small form, I think she’s actually comfortable dating my cute little arse. Who is to say she’ll feel the same way about me then as she does now?

I know I’m overthinking it, as she loves me for me and not how I look, but part of me still can’t help but feel anxious about it. Thinking about things like this definitely isn’t doing anything to help, though. All of this thought is only serving to distract me from the day as a whole, and serving to discourage me.

Shaking off my bedclothes, I roll out of bed. In a tired, shambling movement my body follows the routine I’ve already returned to. Waddling into the bathroom, brushing teeth, and peeing begins the cycle, and from there I move quickly in for my fifteen minute shower. After all, a good start to the morning is a clean one, and there’s no better way to put the doubts from your mind than running your head under a near scalding torrent of water from the shower head.

A big portion of the job is washing my mane now that my mane is full and luscious. It gets a bit tedious caring for it—shampooing, conditioning, and brushing it—but I’m honestly not complaining in the least. Even without the fingers to enjoy toying with it, having a long, girly mane is something fun. Just the brushing feels wonderful. Brushie time is probably best time in the morning next to food time and bedtime.

“Would you hurry up in there, Silver?” Gale grumbles from the other side of the door, interrupting me as I attempt to braid my mane into a ponytail. “Some of us actually have places to be!”

“I do too, but braiding a mane isn’t fuckin’ easy when you have no fingers,” I snap back. “You might have claws and the benefit of only having to comb your plumage if you wanna look fancy, but us ponies have to work just to look passable in the mornings.”

After a moment, she pulls the door open to give me a rather confused look. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her beak doing that weird scrunching thing that wouldn’t be possible with any avian back home. “You alright?” she asks in a cautious tone. “Your behavior’s been all over the place since you got back, and last night you were kinda snappish while brewing whatever that was.”

“What?” I respond almost too quickly. “I haven’t—”

Gale shuffles in behind me, compounding the cramped space of the small bathroom. Without preamble, she gently grabs my mane and begins braiding. “Don’t give me none of that,” she says dryly. “I swear on my forefathers; you’ve been acting squirrely and overly girly since you got back.” I shoot her a scowl in the mirror. “Hey, I’m not saying you’re some butch tomcolt, but you’ve never been overly feminine. You were just yourself.”

Frowning, I respond, “What, is it because I’m actually taking care of my mane now that it isn’t charcoal?” I grumble. “I like having a long mane! It’s nice to take care of!”

Reaching around from behind, she taps me on the nose. “I’ll give you that much, but even so, you’ve been projecting a stronger air of femininity the last few days,” she counters tactfully. “You got so stressed last night when I nearly knocked over your calcinator that you whined at me. I’m not talking about your usual absurd banter, I’m talking a girly whine of frustration. What’s up with that?”

Heaving a sigh, I shut my eyes. “I guess I have been... acting out lately. With the whole test of this potion—the one I got from Zecora; that sex change potion from the party—my gender identity has been on my mind,” I confess. “If this thing works, I could have the opportunity to go back to being male again. Almost a year I’ve been a mare, and I have the opportunity to get my penis back.”

“I’m not sure I’m following you here.”

“The problem is, I’m not sure I want to go back.” Stomping my hooves in frustration, I startle the griffon behind me. “Being a mare has its downsides, but so does being a stallion.”

“Name three,” Gale commands, snapping a rubber band around the end of my mane.

“First is testicles,” I begin the list in a flat tone. “They are absolutely agonizing if you ever get hit in them, and you do not know pain until you sit down on top of them. I’ve suffered that pain.”

“Second is penis,” I continue, scrunching my muzzle as I open my eyes. “They’re kinda hard to miss during estrus season, but a stallion doesn’t need a mare in heat to get a hard-on. A stallion can become aroused at the slightest thought or sensation. Sure, you get some mares like me who are broken or perverts, and get turned on just as easily as stallions, but I’d rather not be walking around with an erection.”

“Those are two I suppose I can agree with,” she answers with a nod, pulling my mane taut. “It kinda sounds like you spent a lot of time thinking about this, though.”

“Only since waking up this morning,” I admit. Out of the corner of my eye I see her snapping a scrunchie around the end. Part of me wants to question where she even got it, as the one I’d left on the counter was a red one, but this nonsense isn’t important. Equestria; simple! “You’ve still got one more reason to list.”

“Bulk,” I say simply. “Stallions are bulkier and generally not as aerodynamic. Oh sure, you’ve got Soarin’ on the Wonderbolts, but look how skinny and short he is! Give any regular-sized stallion an opportunity to fly with any of those mares, and they’ll be outstripped. A mare, especially a warped little mess suffering dwarfism and having wings larger than her frame, is built for speed like a stallion is built for strength. I guess this is just a roundabout way of saying that I prefer being lithe to strong.”

She looks at me flatly. “Alright, so you’re conflicted,” she affirms. “Why are you doing your mane up if it might change during your little test?”

Fuck. “Shut up, Gale.”

An hour and a half and two plates of bangers and mash later, I find myself wandering the halls of the very building that all of my classes have thus far have taken place in. In a twisted bit of irony, the room we are using is the little nurses office I wound up in after that alchemical poisoning incident, at the suggestion of the medical student I’m working with—a unicorn by the name of Locus. It has enough space for him to run sample analysis, a privacy screen if I, for whatever reason, feel the need to rub one out—I never disclosed that I was once male or formerly a non-pony, so he kind of just assumed I’d be interested in ‘trying it out’—and it’s out of the way enough that we won’t be disturbed. His reasoning is sound enough, so I don’t have the heart to tell him that room comes with bad memories for me.

Regardless of my misgivings regarding the location, it’s crucial this gets done. So with that in mind, I quicken my pace, trying to remember the exact route to that obscure little room. A nurse’s station should be easy to access, not hard to find. Then again, equine logic doesn’t seem to work all that well inside my own head. ‘The safest place is one not easily found,’ I think is how it was explained to me.

Still, it’s only a matter of time before I find the place. There are only so many places you can hide a nurse’s office in a place the size of a mall, after all. When I finally get in, I see a cyan and brown pinto unicorn slouched over a stack of papers. At first glance, he looks like he’s focused very intently on a single spot on a page, but it occurs to me as I set my flasks—the zebra potion and the Mother’s Kiss alchemical purgative—down on a nearby table that he has fallen asleep in the middle of some paperwork.

“Hey! Focus, Locus,” I chirp playfully. “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

I’d like to say that the following chain of events caused by startling the poor stallion awake was funny, but no matter what way I look at it, it’s just fucking tragic. In reaction to my voice, Locus momentarily loses all rigidity in his body, dropping his muzzle face-first onto the table. From there, he rocks back on the stool, cradling his nose, loses his balance, and tumbles arse-over-teakettle onto the floor. I wouldn’t think it possible had I not seen it with my own eyes, but in a stunning feat of flexibility, the poor sod’s back folds seamlessly like paper, depositing his own scrotum on his chin.

Thankfully, I don’t see his penile sheath, but that does nothing to spare me the sight of his brown eye. Shaking my head, I turn my back in order to allow the guy a chance to recompose himself. “Normally, seeing something like that might beg some questions,” I comment, staring at a fixed location on the wall. “For the sake of dignity and expedience, however, I saw nothing.”

“Thanks,” I hear his grateful tone behind me. “My fiance, well, he has some weird tastes, but if I become more flexible in the name of love—”

“Do not finish that sentence or so help me...” I stomp my hoof, turning my head back to glare at him. “I do not need to hear about how kinky your lover is.”

A blush bleeds through his coat, and I watch as he uses some sort of conjuring cantrip to set a pair of thick, reflective coke-bottle glasses at the end of his muzzle, hiding his ochre eyes. “Right, so... Refresh my memory; what did you want me here for today?”

Turning to trot over to the table bearing my potion, I smile. “Easy!” I nod toward the flask on the left. “This potion is something of a zebra marital aid. It’s used for temporarily increasing the number of males or females in a herd for breeding purposes. I have a theory that this draught, when consumed, alters the subjects genetics to weed out ‘bad genes’ or possibly curing infertility. I want you to take some genetic samples before I take the potion, while I’m a stallion, and then again when I revert so you can do some comparative analysis, just so I can get a good idea of what this mixture can do.”

Locus stares at me for a moment, his eyes unclear behind those thick-lensed glasses, as he ponders what I’ve just said. “You sound familiar with the scientific method,” he says, smirking. “It’s refreshing to hear a student of the more arcane sciences apply non-magical theory to their studies.”

“I’m sure Twilight Sparkle—er, Princess Twilight now, I guess—would take that as a compliment, but the scientific method just comes natural to me; it’s what I grew up with,” I reply, bored. “Anyway, shall we?”

The unicorn glances over to a nearby tray of medical instruments, and magicks over a few swabs and containers. “This here is a buccal swab. With it, I can swab the inside of your mouth and cheek to collect tissue samples,” he explains, levitating one swab out before me. “Let me tell you, before somepony came up with this, collecting samples for DNA testing was a lot messier, and there was no standard method decided upon the community. Just imagine having to compare a semen sample to blood collected from a broken bottle following a barfight.”

That thought has me rolling my eyes as I wander over to the patient bed. As I hop up onto the bed, I say, “Unless you’re working in a crime lab, running forensic analysis for the police on a sex-crime case, I kinda doubt that you’d see that kind of sample comparison.” He snorts in agreement, trotting over. “I mean, what kind of pony would be eager to just hand over a semen sample when drawing blood is probably going to be just as quick—no offense—and not nearly as embarrassing.”

“Quite. Open,” he orders, floating the swab in front of my mouth. Part of me wants to make a comment about the lack of foreplay, but seeing as his fiance is a stallion, I doubt it’d have the desired effect. So instead of opening my mouth to say something off-putting to the guy, I open my mouth obediently. One can’t help but gag a few times when a cotton swab brushes against the back of their tongue, but that’s the way it goes, right? Pulling back the swab, he smiles. “Right, that’s one swab. Normally we take two anyways, so that works out perfectly for running comparative analysis on three sample groups. Open wide.”

Ugh. If today is teaching me anything, it’s that I hate cotton swabs with a passion. The pony who decided that Equestria needs cotton swabs that go in your mouth needs to be dragged behind a barn and bucked in the head repeatedly. Seriously! That shit’s just unpleasant as all hell. If regular cotton was supposed to go in the mouth, it would be cotton candy!

Glaring at him, I stick my tongue out childishly. “Eugh! Could they at least find a way to make that taste better?”

“Nope,” he replies, bottling up the two swabs. With a quick scrawl of a pencil, he has labels on the first set. Levitating over the potion—the correct one, thankfully—he adds, “Now it’s your turn. Here’s hoping your potion tastes a bit better than the swabs, no?”

Without thanks, I snatch the potion bottle out of the air and pop the cork. Frowning, I remember how the potion didn’t smell the best while cooking. Did the others taste the difference in their cupcakes back then? “Bottoms up!” I squeak, knocking back the draught like a shot. Almost immediately I’m sputtering, trying my best not to spill the thing. “Ugh. Is there a bin here I can throw up in? I—”

Before I can even finish my gripe, I clench my eyes shut as pain wracks my body. Every bone, every ligament, and every scrap of tissue feels like it’s on fire, as though my bones are breaking, elongating and healing repeatedly, and all of my flesh is tearing and mending without ever spilling a drop of blood. In spite of myself, I force an eye open long enough to watch one of my hooves distends to cover more and more of the bed. I’m... growing?

A pressure beneath my tail notifies me that the potion is definitely doing its part and changing my sex, and it is not a pleasant sensation. First and foremost, I can feel my clit changing its orientation, pushing out, swelling, and angling itself toward my belly, dragging my urethral opening outside along with it. The sensations of my clitoris growing and reshaping to include my urinary tract is short lived as a new, frightening occurrence begins. My vulva quickly spreads to make room for my prolapsing birth canal and womb. A small scream escapes my lips as my cervix opens and my womb inverts itself, trapping my ovaries within like two testicles. Well, they probably are testicles now. The pain begins to lessen as the area down there begins to smooth out and gain a gentle dusting of coat.

I’m vaguely aware that over by the desk, Locus is vomiting in the bin that I wanted, but I don’t really care right now. My entire body aches like I just did a full-body workout for two hours straight before the machine exploded, leaving me lying on my side. I’m also vaguely aware that I am frighteningly large—compared to how big I used to be as a mare—and painfully hard. Oh, right. I’m male now, so I get erections again.

“I’m glad I was already into stallions,” Locus groans, lifting his head from the garbage pail to look at me. “That was certainly enough to turn me off of mares forever.” His eyes pause as he sights the shaft peeking from between my hind legs, pressed firmly against my belly. “Oh... oh my.”

“Eyes up here, peepers,” I quip, extending one wing to cover my newly acquired stallion-flesh. “Oh hey, even my wings got bigger.” Glancing away from my feathered appendage, I look back to the stallion by the bin. “You’re engaged.”

Again, he begins to blush, as though ashamed. Damn right he should be. “Oh, right,” he mutters. “So ideally, how long is this transformation supposed to last?”

“Six to eight hours, based on prior observations regarding this potion,” I comment disinterestedly. In spite of my raging erection, I roll onto my belly so that I can give myself a better once-over. Sure enough, I’m definitely larger now that I’m a stallion. My new male body might not be as large as Big Macintosh—thank fuck—but it’s still slightly bigger than an average stallion. “I’m more interested in the fact that I grew as a result of the potion. I gotta wonder if this potion doesn’t remove ‘undesirable’ traits, in order to make someone the perfect ‘breeding partner’.”

“You mean your dwarfism?”

“Yeah, go with that, sure,” I mutter. The truth is that I’m rather wary to explain to him my own theories on my damaged genetic structure and the relation it has with my transformation from human male to pony mare and the untold number of mutations that could have resulted from that event. “Well, I suppose we should get you your samples, shouldn’t we?”

With a wry smile, Locus looks me over before shaking his head. “You know, we don’t have to do a buccal swab,” he says playfully. “There are other sources of genetic material.”

“Dude, you have a fiance,” I remind him, frowning.

“It’s alright! Wormwood is open about that sort of thing,” he laughs, a half-lidded look about his face. Dude, what the fuck; why are you telling me this and why are you looking at me like that? “Personally, I think it turns him on knowing I might be having fun with other stallions.”

“I am so not comfortable with this.” It’s not a complaint, an admission or a denial; it is a simple statement of fact. The idea of sex outside of a relationship—especially with someone I don’t know or trust enough for that sort of thing—isn’t exactly the most appealing thing to me. Given that something doesn’t seem right about him right now doesn’t make this any better. “Can we maybe not?”

Oh great, he’s doing one of those feminine looking pouty faces now. “Aww, don’t you want to have some fun?”

Okay, this is getting sort of creepy. Like... seriously creepy. Could I be, I dunno, exuding some sort of pheromone that renders me irresistible to—nah. It couldn’t be everybody becoming attracted to my gender-bent form. That doesn’t line up at all with what happened that night ages ago. I mean I was drunk and in heat, so of course I’m not a great basis for research data. The others, on the other hoof, didn’t seem to hook up at all. Maybe it’s a matter of attraction combined with sexual preference. What, so he saw my boner, got turned on, and—

“Hey!” I shout, realizing Locus has decided to join me on the patient-bed. “I was having internal dialogue here!”

The stallion gives me his best puppy-dog eyes look and lowers his chin to rest on his hooves. “But you looked so lonely by yourself there,” he pleads in a frighteningly submissive tone. “I didn’t mean to upset you!”

Oh god why is he rolling onto his... “Gah, put that thing away!” I shriek, almost reaching my previous, female pitch. “Luna preserve me! What hellish roleplay does your fiance have you conditioned for?”

When he rolls back onto his belly, he looks more like a scolded dog than a scholarly unicorn. “Listen, dude; I’m not, and never will be into stallions,” I explain, calming myself as best I can. “It’s just not going to happen. Now, I don’t know what the hell has gotten into you, but I have some theories.

“There’s probably some magical pheromones involved that only attract those who are sexually interested, and your interest was probably piqued when you saw... that.” I stand up very carefully, and climb off the side of the bed opposite of my research partner. “Now, this makes things kind of awkward and easier simultaneously. In your current state of mind, you’re dead set on a semen sample, and I am interested in what magical properties the seminal fluid might possess, so I guess it kind of works out.”

He perks up, wagging his tail expectantly. “So does that mean we can—”

“NO!” I say firmly, stomping again. “I am not interested in sodomy, being on the giving or receiving end. Personally, I’d rather you not touch me at all. I have eyes only for my marefriend, thank you very much. Just... give me a few minutes on my own. I’m sure I’ll figure this out.”

Locus watches me warily for a few moments before calming down a bit. “I can see that you aren’t interested, and you probably want to do this on your own,” he notes, inclining his head toward the specimen cups over on the tray, “but how are you going to aim it into the cup? This facility isn’t exactly set up like a collection facility. There is no artificial mare or collection jar, and it’d be no good to collect it from the bedclothes or floor. The samples would be contaminated.”

“What are you suggesting,” I ask, backing away.

“I can, er, stimulate you,” he stammers, going scarlet once again. “With my magic, I mean! I would be as gentle as a, er, lover, so it wouldn’t hurt. It might even feel good. At the same time, I could levitate the specimen cups for collection!”

A part of me wants to ask how he knows it would feel good, and another wants to point out that I am highly uncomfortable—and at least partially phobic—with magic. The desire to get this over with eventually wins out over my misgivings. “Fine, but just to lay a few ground rules, I want no physical touching, and my arsehole is off-limits,” I groan. “If I see you ‘sampling the product’, I reserve the right to smack you upside the head.”

“Deal,” he agrees, igniting his horn. All at once my consciousness focuses on my penis as something grasps it firmly around the medial ring. Contrary to the usual paresthetic sensation of magic that I’m used to, his spell is warm and somehow slick like a tongue. Were it not for the fact that I can see him still lying on the bed, I would outright accuse him of violating the agreement already, but no, there he is, eyes closed and horn alight, doing exactly what he agreed to.

In addition to what I can only describe as the magical tentacle wrapped around the middle of my cock, I can feel something else up at the end of it. It’s almost like I’m prodding at something soft, warm and ringlike. I quickly forget about analyzing what it is supposed to be as whatever it is slides over my length like an incredibly warm, viselike sleeve.

“Huh, a magical fleshlight,” I grunt, biting back the tone of enjoyment threatening to invade my voice. “Only a unicorn could come up with such a thing.”

A bead of sweat crosses Locus’s brow, and a weak smile tugs at his lips. “Yes, it is a rather enjoyable spell. It’s a shame the other races cannot hold a candle to it,” he replies, his voice pitching to a yelp at one point as he slides the spell further down my shaft. “I’m certain you would find it even more enjoyable if you rocked your hips a bit.”

That’s kind of a weird request, isn’t it? I mean, we’re collecting a sample here, not practicing for the Bedroom Olympics. God damn it, and why does this guy keep fucking blushing? Wait. Wait a fucking minute. H-he wouldn’t! Ringlike and warm... just like...

“Dude, what the fuck?” I shout, trying my hardest to pull away. That action only serves to elicit a moan from the stallion. “What part of not interested do you not comprehend? Is it the part where I am not interested in sodomy? Or the part where I don’t want to have sex with you? Voodoo fleshlight is still sex if you’re deriving pleasure from it!”

Thankfully, the sudden burst of rage is distracting enough to allow me to begin to go flaccid. “Damn it all, let me go!” I reach over to the nearby table, grab a random book, and give it a toss, hitting him squarely between the eyes. “Dude, not cool!”

“S-sorry,” he whimpers like a beaten dog. “I guess I uhh...” He pauses, noting my receding erection. “Oh. Should I get more buccal swabs then?”

I look at him, scowling. “No, I want you to cast a magical spell that will cause me to jizz my pants and flood the room with cum,” I deadpan. “I wanted to have the seminal fluid examined to see if there was some sort of compound that induces estrus, but...”

“I can do that!” he chirps excitedly, igniting his horn.

“Wait, wha—NOOOOooooooo!” I shout, quickly strangling the cry with a moan as I feel a bit of magic being applied inside my bottom. Oh fuck he’s giving a magical prostate massage! I AM NOT READY FOR TH—

“This is all your fault, and you get to clean all of this up,” I state flatly, enjoying the gradual change in pitch as my body slowly downshifts back into a female form. Setting down the empty purgative flask with one wing while I attempt to clean off my hooves with a borrowed pillowcase, I glower across the room at him from my stool perch. “What is it with unicorns, eagerness, and a lack of comprehension for sarcasm?”

“Yeah, I know, I was out of line there!” he whines. “Can you please not tell the board about my professional misconduct?”

Sighing, I hold a scalpel—liberated from the nearby tray of tools—between two wing primaries, eying my reflection, noticing the subtle changes in my figure. For one, I am not nearly as short now as I was before; I’d place myself more on par with a regular unicorn or pegasus mare now, than an adolescent filly. Thankfully, my mane hasn’t grown wildly with the transformation, but simply enough to account for size differences. My eyelashes even look fuller than they were before. Still, I’m unmistakably Silver Script, no matter how I look at it.

“Look,” I reply quietly. “I knew I was playing with a potential aphrodisiac when I started. I didn’t expect that you would be affected, nor did I account for possible perception enhancement spells involved in the potion. That much is on me.” With a flick of my wing, I idly toss the scalpel in his direction, lodging it in the wall behind the patient bed, muttering, “Note to self, future experiments should involve geldings and spayed mares.”

Locus doesn’t even wince as the blade passes him by. He only sighs and keeps mopping up the last of the mess coating the floor with the bedsheet. “I’ll take that as an ‘I’m not going to report you,’ then,” he whispers. “We’ll, I guess I should take the last samples and get out of your mane. After what just happened, I imagine you want to get out of here.”

“No kidding,” I answer. “I think it might be time to break out that bottle of hard cider I’ve been saving for a rainy day. Anyway, get back to me ASAP when you get your initial results, okay?”

After explaining why I’m no longer a miniature pony—miniature, miniature horse?—to Gale, beating her in a hoof-wrestle, showering repeatedly, and downing an entire bottle of Sweet Apple Hard, I meander down the dormitory hallway, making my way to Blossom and Beat’s bedchamber. I vaguely remember having a practice session planned tonight with the others for the show coming up, so I figure now’s a good a time as any to test out these new, larger lungs.

Tapping gently on the door, I allow a smile to cross my face. How will they react? So many reactions to choose from—surprise, disbelief, confusion, anger! This is going to be great. Oh! Here comes somepony now! “Hello? Who is it?” Ice Blossom’s voice comes from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Silver Script!” I answer, unable to suppress a giddy little snicker. “Come on, it’s almost time for practice!” With another giggle, I add, “It’s time for karaoke!”

“One sec, Silver.” It’s Chill Beat this time. “Just lemme get my gear ready. In the meantime, Blossom’ll let you in.”

A plan begins formulating in my mind then and there. Maybe it’s the alcohol speaking, but this seems like a great idea. Crouching in front of the door, I ready my body to pounce like a snow leopard. This is going to be so great!

As soon as the door opens and I see Blossom’s beautiful face, I leap out of the hallway and tackle her to the floor. “Surprise!” I squeal, nuzzling the startled mare like a lunatic. “Oh I’m so happy to be big again, I mean it was fun being small, but ponies always look down on you and treat you like a foal, so you almost start to believe it, and I never once trusted my constitution, so I could never bring myself to drink, but now that I’m big again I think I’ve drunk too much, ‘cause listen to me go! Now you don’t have to worry about ponies thinking you’re my m—”

“Who in Tartarus are you and why are you doing that to my baby sis?” Beat roars, knocking me off of her sister with a repeat performance of her weaponized bass tone. Thankfully, I’m not sent careening off into the wall like during our first meeting; I have too much mass for that now. “Seriously! The nerve, imitating her marefriend... and... huhbuhwha?”

“Ouch, that’s not very nice!” I protest, staggering backwards. “I know I look like some sort of loony mare, bursting through the door and practically making out with Blossom like that, but it’s really me! I would know because you did the same thing to me the last time you thought I was going to eat her!”

I begin giggling wildly. Oh wow; maybe I shouldn’t have drunk that whole bottle on an empty stomach. It seems like I’m a teetotaler. “I tried out a zebra aphrodisiac that turned me into a stallion, but when I changed, I wasn’t just fun-sized, I was fully sized!” I cheer, bouncing energetically over to my friend. “When I took the purgative to turn back to normal, I was no longer a dwarf! Isn’t that great?”

Chill Beat adjusts her sunglasses before smoothing her mane back with a hoof. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said, never mind how eager you sound,” she grumbles shaking her head. “Just what did you get into?”

“Silver! You have your cutie mark!” Blossom finally manages, snapping out of her astonished stupor and scrambling to her hooves. Slowly, as though careful not to evoke some spastic behavior, she creeps up beside me and places her hoof on my flank. “That’s wonderful.”

I look back at my flank, and sure enough, there’s a cutie mark right there on both sides of my arse. “So I do,” I comment idly, taking in the upward facing crescent moon and alchemy flask adorning my hip-flesh. “I’m too old for a cute-ceañera, so let’s all get smashed and go singing!”

Author's Notes:

Sorry about the delays. I really wanted to get this done sooner, but I had to deal with the move that I simply haven't shut up about.

That being said, what's done is done and I should be back on track now.

Got E3gner and NightmareKnight to thank tonight. Edit: Double okay'd by Kaidan.

I apologize for the incredibly weird magi-clop scene. It kinda just... happened, and kept getting weirder as I wrote.