I still do remember every instant of the party, from when I put the suit on, to the moment I slipped out the very last part of it. Every little garment I had been wearing. I never have a very clear memory of things past. As exciting and enjoyable as they may be. That isn’t depending on whether I was drunk or sober, not to say that I drink muck on a party, maybe a glass of wine, but that is about it.
The phase of the moon had slipped my mind entirely, not knowing it carried any consequence. Normally, it doesn’t affect me, even if I may be a bit of the romantic, enjoying the sight of the full moon. That very same full moon just so happen to be tomorrow night.
I use to be a happy girl with a long raven hair, straight and shiny, and with slightly curved up bangs stopping just before my emerald green eyes. These very eyes sometimes grant me the compliments of the emerald dragon. I like it, but sadly, I don’t have a clue as to what these words mean. Did I need to care, it sounds like a compliment to me.
“Hay, I am not a ditzy. I just love a good party as much as the next mare. Although I guess i like to be just one level above them in finesse and style!” I told myself.
Just as I pronounced the words, another thought hit me and I went right back to my wardrobe and reached up to the one shelf above all others and withdrew a large cardboard box, in which I had hidden away the one suit I had worn to the masquerade.
Maybe it wasn’t a big secret, or the great treasure, but I had still hidden it away on that one high shelf. Why, I had no idea. I just had slipped it up there, but there is the chance that the wardrobe simply had no more room, the one high shelf the one open slot.
Now I had pulled the mate black box the costume had been delivered in and placed it on the top of my bed. Momentarily looking at my slender, perfectly girlish hands with well manicured nails, about an inch long, merely covered with that one high gloss finish lacquer I had put on after I got home from the masquerade. I had apparently found and bought it, while I bought the suit for that one off occasion. I couldn’t resist it.
Once I had given my hands that one critical glance over, the next silly idea hit me and i placed a finger on the tip of the nail of my index finger, then promptly, tentatively pressing down, just to see if they were to live up to the promise the package had given. At first, the nail adamantly resisted, until I added just enough pressure and the nails bent in an elastic fashion, as if it refused to break, just the way I like it.
With this out of the way, I pull the top of the box off of the box with both hands, giving of a reverent sigh as I see the pink rubber covering the interior of my prised box.
I pull out the pair of stockings, gloves, panties, top, muzzle, hood and ears. These were the items that made out the suit I had been wearing. They may look as innocent as regular clothes you may wear any and every day, but one you slip into them, they transformed you into the pink Party Pony, the mare known as Pinkie Pie. They granted me the pink coat, hooves ears and tail, not to mention the muzzle of hers. I was literally Pinkie Pie, while I wore the suit.
Like Pinkie Pie, I had that clear memory, the perfect recollection of anything and everything, the instant I focused on, whatever I was thinking of. Never a gap. I could forget nothing.
I love the smooth rubbery feel to my body, the smooth shiny hooves. Just as I did enjoy the curly main and tail. I could not help myself, I was her, I loved every instant of being her at the party. To be at the centre of things, to make them all laugh and smile.
For a moment, I look at the suit, piece by piece, as I slowly slip the garments back, one by one with a heavy heart and regretting every tiny little move. Every teeny tiny little move. Yet, I did put the box up where I had hidden it.
Once I had placed the box on its top shelf and closed the wardrobe, I afforded a worried glance around my room. The cover is still the same regular pink it used to. I had chosen the green wallpapers and the beach wood floor myself, several years ago. There is a lamp hanging from the white ceiling, looking almost like a blue balloon, the one extravagant item I had graced my room with. This is after all merely my bedroom, I sleep her, nothing more. There is room for the two double sliding door wardrobes.
Now I sit back down on my bed. I lift my right hand, giving it a new glance over, as if it does look wrong or off. Then I carefully slip the pink top off of my chest, by pulling it up over my head. I raise to my feet, allowing my panties fall to the floor, seeing my skirt fall on top of the still clearly white panties. I had chosen this skirt a few months back, it does match the pink top. Then I sit back down, lifting my feet, right and left, pulling the short white socks off of my feet, allowing them to fall onto the pile of clothes. For some reason, I slip my top onto the pile and kick the entire suit in under my bed.
I still have that light complexion of the girl who lives most of her day indoors in central Tokyo. Thankfully I also have the cute and girlish face of the girl I grew out of, several years ago. I am blessed with a firm A-Cup, something I am still proud of. Maybe in part, due to the still girlish look I was blessed with, as such, I would look strange with anything more than a small B-Cup in the first place. Like that little girl, I still never grew any hair on my mound, or any of these places associated with maturity.
“Okeley, Dokely!” I exclaimed to myself, before I shut up to my still girlish feet.
I had the feeling I had been sitting on my bed for far too long, and roasted in the room for more than enough time. It isn’t mere nostalgia, but I do need to leave the room, I need to do something. I just had not quite figured out, just what I needed to do. Although I guess a Muffin, or a dozen would do me plenty of good, right about now.
By this time, I am not just nude, but pink from muzzle to hooves and tail. All of a sudden, it is like a flashback, I feel as if I had been at the party, even if I know I am at my home, and in my very own bedroom.
Momentarily looking down at my pink hooves, just as shiny as I recalled them. That perfect high gloss finish I had chosen for my nails. I have the same Equine hind quarters as I had, back at the Masquerade as well. Strangely, I had never really noticed the change. My mane and tail, the same pink curls of a happy Pinkie Pie from the show. My ears, happily perked up and the wide grin over my muzzle, and my eyes wide open, emphasising the smile all over my face.
Speaking of hooves, where my long nails had been at the top of each finger as I inspected the suit, I now have her miniature hooves, aside from the size, they are identical. Furthermore, my eyes had turned into Pinkie Pie’s clear blue.
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