The Fall

by Kentavritsa

Entry: 02

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As I wake up, I am alone on the train to Celestia knows where.

“Yes, Celestia knows where!” I ponder.

Why should she not know, she always knows everything. Every pony knows that. Don't we?

I am a white Unicorn filly, alone on the train. I have nothing. Shouldn't I at least have a name? Every pony does have a name.

Apparently, I do have a destination. Thank Celestia for that fortune. While I don't know where I am, or where I am going; the Conductor does. A moment before the train starts to slow down, she enters and makes the announcement; “This is your stop, your mother is awaiting you!”

“Thank you!” I respond.

Since I have nothing, I gather myself and get up from the bed where I had just woken up.

I do not want to miss my stop, so I hurry up; I manage to reach the door, just before the train stops.

The door swings open, and I spill out. In my haste, I had failed to notice that I am the only pony to get of.

There is a station, and the train does stop long enough for me to safely trot of the train and down to the pavement below.

I guess I had arrived as empty-hoofed, as I had left.

The station appears to be largely abandoned. A door swings open, and a white mare exits the building.

Tentatively, I approach her, In the hopes that she had been waiting for me. A smile starts to spread on her face, as she hasten her steps towards me.

“Pinkie Pie, is coming to town!”

Apparently, it is something similar to April fools' day. Just more like Christmas. A pink face adorns the bright, cheerful poster. That has to be the face of Pinkie Pie herself.

“Hi, and welcome home!” she exclaims jubilantly.

“Hi!” I respond.

“Call me Mum!” she exclaims.

That could be awkward.

“Yes, Mum. Of course!” I respond.

She smiles brightly at me.

I bravely flash my brightest grin back at her. If mum is happy, I am.

Maybe I don't know better, but I have no reason not to be happy. Besides, she is all I have right now.

“If you like, we could go to a Rarity Carousel?” she suggests.

“Rarity's Carousel?” I echo, excitedly.

Combining the word carousel, with the name Rarity had made me instantly excited. Not because I know what a carousel is, or who Rarity is. Who, and what are these anyway? I am a filly and I am new here.

I am nude, because I have nothing.

I had noticed, that some ponies are wearing clothes. I just did not react.

“The Rarity Carousel!” mum exclaims.

Of course. There it is, the carousel. As I look up, I merely gape in awe.

“Right this way, my dear!” she exclaims.

There is a petite chime calling, just as we enter the boutique. Such a delicate sound. I can see Ponequines dressed up, in the windows. There are also Ponequines delicate and pretty. The Ponequines are all wearing a halter with a delicate bit. Why?

“This is the Rarity Carousel!” the mare called Rarity exclaims, in ladylike style.

“How may I be of service?” a mare inquires, from further inside.

“Matching vests and skirts, for daughter and me?” Mum responds.

“We are both the same white, so matching clothes seems right!” I ponder.

“Right this way, so that I can take all the required measurements!” she offers.

This is why Mum brought me here, so I follow them in into the back.room. I can't for my life imagine why Mum would do anything that could possibly harm me, so I implicitly trust her blindly. Besides, why would the mare do anything bad.

The mare managing the boutique produces a measuring-tape, with which she starts to take Mum's measurements.

While the mare works, I am ogling and admiring a ponequine in the room. She is apparently wearing the halter, and a set of pony-boots too.

While I don't know what these are, or what they are for; I still desire them, both for the looks and how they make me feel inside.

“Is it so wrong, to feel hot and desired by wearing these?” I ponder.

“Is the red right for me, as a filly?” I inquire.

“Red will go quite well with your white coat of fur!” she responds.

“I do have a set of boots, in your size. If you like the deep tone of the metallic bloody red!” she adds, just as she finishes taking measurements.

“Yes, please!” I respond.

I look around, for a moment. Then I find what I had been looking for. A set of glossy rubber-boots, just as she had promised.

The Ponequine generously gives them up, for me without complaining. Incidentally, she also wears a matching halter.

As I step into the boots, I feel them tighten up around my hooves, with a squeaking noise. A perfect fit. I am thrilled. Before any pony had the time to protest, I take of her halter and put it on. Just like the boots, the halter tightens up around my muzzle. Too late, I realize what it is. This halter eagerly squeezes my mouth shut, and effectively mutes me.

While I could reach for my smooth, glossy and now tight rubber-halter; I am incapable of touching it, with either my hooves or my magic.

The halter had been adjusted for the Ponequine it had been adorning, not for a living and breathing filly like me.

“I should call you Squeak!” Mum muses.

“Your boots come with a selection of optional shoes, if you care for these!” Rarity offers.

Silver, chrome, copper, gold and cobalt? I can't make up my mind, I want all of them. Maybe, if I could have asked her?

Apparently, I had already chosen the colour of my clothes. In effect, I had chosen the colour for my mother as well. Deep red, with black trim-accents.

“Strange, how comfortable the halter feels!” I realize; “My halter!” I correct myself, in amusement.

“I hope I can keep it!” I ponder; “Would be sad, if I can't have it now!” I add.

“Since my little Squeak likes them; I take these boots with the selection of shoes, and the halter and bit!” Mum announces.

“Of course!” Rarity agrees.

“As a matter of fact; I would like a matching set for me too, if possible!” Mum adds.

“Certainly!” the mare continues.

“Thank you, Rare!” Mum exclaims.

“Would you prefer the ponequine-setting for the halter, or an alternative setting?” she inquires, suggesting options available.

“Could I have both settings; or is there any other setting you think I may enjoy?” Mum responds.

“In your case, remote or Parental control may be of interest! I will just have to set it up, for you! I will also have to teach you how to manage the settings yourself!” she explains.

I will just have to put yours on, before I set you up properly!” she continues.

“Our personal Rarity, even if her name is not Rarity and she is not the genuine Rarity!” I ponder.

Her horn starts to glow, in a bright, light blue, as mum picks up her halter and dons it with her unicorn grace.

“Now you have to face one-another!” she instructs.

“Eye-contact is critical!” she adds.

Mum is facing me, gazing deeply into my eyes. As she faces me, I face her; as she is gazing into my eyes, I gaze into hers. I can not avert my gaze or look away, I do not want to.

While I can still not speak or even part my lips in the least, my mum will be able to hear me while she keeps her halter on. At least, if it is in Parental Control mode.

She will be able to put on or remove my halter at will, as she pleases. Why not, she is after all my mother.

Rarity removes her halter and resets it for each desired setting in turn. Once she has finished adjusting my halter, she repeats the process with my mother's halter. From there, she explains how to change the settings of the individual halters, to the desired settings.

My halter reverts to original Ponequine settings, while my Mum can hear me.

“What is the range one can hear the other? Mum asks, for me.

“I do not know, this has never been properly established. If you do learn, please let me be the first to know!” she responds.

“While you can breathe and communicate, the halter must come of for you to eat!” she points out, most sternly.

“Don't you forget that, Squeak!” I hear my mum, even if her lips are tight.

“No, Mum; I will not!” I respond.

“Curious, am I supposed to hear you too?” I add.

“I don't know!” I hear; “But it certainly could prove convenient!” she adds.

I close my eyes, turn my head and see her beside me to the right.

“Could I..?” I inquire.

“On the second floor, the balcony up front!” Rarity suggests, pointing out the way to the name-sake carousel.

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