The Fillydelphia suburbs were always calm, and quiet as well. The grass beneath Pan Sear’s hooves sparkled with dew, as did the small, one-story house before which he stood. “Well,” thought he, “here I am.” He then ran a hoof through his cyan mane and trotted up to the front door.
With a single knock, the door was opened by Over Cast, a deep blue Pegasus Mare with a short, wavy, aqua mane held back with a pink band, and a pair of clouds obscuring the sun on her flank. Her red eyes beamed joy as she beheld the green stallion. “Oh, hello, Pan!” greeted she happily.
“Hello, Mom,” said Pan in return. “Might I come in?”
“Of course, of course,” replied the mare as she stepped aside to allow Pan entrance.
The interior of the house wasn’t modest, nor was it extravagant; the dining room, kitchen, and living room were all connected, separated only by wide doorways, and several doors adorned the walls. In the living room, on a large sofa sat a yellow Earth Stallion reading a newspaper. He had a short, well-kept blue mane and tail, and his green eyes were covered by reading glasses. A wheel and a bit adorned his flank. He turned from his paper and got a good look at the green stallion. Standing up, he said to him, “hey, Son!”
Pan blinked, and as he opened his eyes, the setting changed; now, he was sitting across the coffee table from his parents in their living room, three cups on the coffee table between the ponies. “So, wait,” said the yellow stallion, confusion in his tone, “what you’re trying to say is that, although your body is male, you’ve got the brain of a mare?”
Pan nodded. “That’s pretty much it.”
The three ponies sat in silence for several awkward seconds, until Over Cast finally spoke. “No,” said she, at first to herself, and then louder. “No, no no. That can’t be.” She then began to stutter. “I.. I’d have known something was wrong. H.. how couldn’t I? I’m your mother!” With that, the mare started to loudly bawl, saying repeatedly, “what kind of mother am I?! I can’t even tell when there’s something wrong with my own foal!”
Pan blinked again, and the setting slightly changed again: his mother was lying on the sofa, silently sobbing, the makeup from her face smeared both on herself and the arm of the sofa. His father was walking up to him, a glint of anger in his green eyes. “What have you done?” asked he, venom in his tone. “Look at your mother! How could you do this to her?!”
“It had to be said eventually,” retorted the green stallion calmly, though visibly bothered by his mother’s breakdown.
“Oh, shut up!” barked the yellow stallion. As Pan opened his mouth to reply, the stallion repeated, “I said shut up!” With that, his steel-shod hoof connected with Pan’s head, the shoe surrounding, but not touching, his right eye.
Pan stumbled, unable to see clearly out of his right eye. The pain was tremendous; with each heartbeat amplifying it. He felt the steel shoe strike his face again, this time his nose was the target. he grunted as he felt his muzzle crack from the forceful blow. A few drops of crimson stained his face as he fell back onto the thin carpet. A hoof pulled his head up slightly as his blurred vision barely gave sight of another hoof coming his way. Slowly, as each strike knocked his head to and fro, the green stallion’s mouth filled with blood and the corners of his vision faded into white, which lazily crawled to the centre of his sight, blocking out everything.
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Pan Sear let out a loud, piercing scream as he jerked his body to a sitting position on his bed. He had been sweating profusely, and was breathing heavily. After a second, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and he glanced about his room; nothing seemed out of place. Satisfied with what he saw, the stallion calmed down enough to fall back onto his bed and go back to sleep. He was interrupted, however, by his friend’s voice in the next apartment.
“Pan?” questioned Daisy Dreamer, concern clear in her tone, even through the thin apartment walls. “Pan? Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Daisy,” replied the stallion. “Go back to bed.”
The next thing Pan heard was hoofsteps, the opening and closing of a couple doors, and his bedroom door creaking open. Daisy didn’t switch the lights on when she trotted up to her friend’s bed and sat down, making the light glow from her horn the only illumination in the dark room. “I wasn’t asleep before,” said she softly. “I can’t sleep.”
“Was I really that loud?” asked Pan, ashamed and saddened by the thought of keeping his friend awake again.
Daisy shook her head. “No; I’ve just been thinking.” She shook her head to clear her thoughts and continued, “but anyway, what’s up with you? That must have been quite the nightmare.”
For roughly half an hour, Pan explained, in great detail, his dream to Daisy, both cringing as the stallion detailed feeling himself getting beaten to death. “That..” stuttered Daisy, “that’s horrible. I’m so, so sorry.” She then held the stallion’s head in her hooves to comfort him.
Pan gently pushed his friend’s hooves away. “I’m alright,” assured he, “I’m just glad it didn’t really play out like that; he told me to get out of his sight after he hit me the first and only time. I left before he could have another go at me.”
“Still,” added the mare, “it’s not like it’s some random pony you’ve never met; we’re talking about your father.”
Pan looked to the mare and said blankly, “I know that. It doesn’t make any difference, though.” He then sighed as he finished, “just another pony to keep out of my life.”
“I guess,” reasoned Daisy. “I’m still sorry, Sweetie.”
In the time that had passed, Pan and Daisy had sat down beside each other on Pan’s bed. “Don’t be sorry, Daisy,” said Pan sincerely. “Anyway, if I wasn’t keeping you up, what was?” He looked to his friend as he asked.
Daisy shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Obviously it’s not,” retorted Pan, “or else you wouldn’t have been losing sleep over it.”
Instead of a direct response, the lavender unicorn gazed into Pan Sear’s magenta eyes, and smiled warmly. “No,” began she, relief evident in her tone. “It’s really nothing; I had a decision to make, and I think I’ve made it.”
Pan returned his friend’s smile. “Well, I’m glad,” marked he. “Well, now that I can stand to close my eyes and you’ve made your decision, let’s both get back to bed, eh?”
Daisy nodded, letting out a yawn. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Goodnight, Pan.” She then gave her green friend a hug and returned to her apartment.
Sufficiently relaxed, Pan rested his head on his pillow and sighed blissfully. Without a word, the stallion fell back asleep, and dreamt pleasantly through the rest of the night.
The next morning, the green stallion awoke to the hypnotic aroma of waffle batter and blueberries. He stretched as he slid to his hooves from his bed and trotted into the next room.
In Pan Sear’s kitchen stood Midnight Blue, operating a waffle iron, while Daisy Dreamer sat on the stallion’s sofa, listening to Classic Rock on the record player. “Morning, Sunshine!” greeted the blue mare happily.
Pan rubbed his eyes groggily. “Blue,” said he, “what are you doing in my kitchen?”
“I’m making waffles,” answered the blue mare, teeming with joy.
The stallion inhaled the aroma of the blueberry waffles and leaked a smile. “Alright,” said he. “But make it quick; I have to get to the post office to get my mail.”
“Taken care of,” shouted Daisy from the sofa. As Pan looked over to her, a stack of envelopes and a magazine, wrapped in a glow of royal blue, floated over to him. “We didn’t read them,” added the mare.
Pan took the stack from Daisy’s telekinetic grip. “Okay,” said he, flipping through the envelopes. “Hmm,” thought he aloud, “I got a letter from Berry Punch.”
“Who’s Berry Punch?” inquired Midnight, cocking her head.
“Just an old friend of mine,” replied Pan honestly. He then opened the letter and read it, summarising it aloud. “Well, she looked in Ponyville’s library, and she found a book called ‘Equine Psychology and Sociology.’ She says it mentions a mental condition known as “Transgenderism,” and that the description fits me.”
“Well,” began Daisy to ask the inevitable, “what’s the description?”
Glancing at the letter, Pan explained, “she says that it’s defined as ‘a psychological condition in which a Pony physically identifies as one sex, but mentally identifies as the opposite.”
Both mares nodded. “Yeah,” agreed Daisy, “that sounds about right. Did she say anything about solutions?”
Pan shook his head. “Nope; she says that the only thing she could find was a definition.”
“Waffles are done!” said Midnight Blue, taking the other two ponies by surprise. She saw her friends jump, and then, blushing heavily, apologised, “oops. Sorry.”
Pan chuckled, and was joined by Daisy. “It’s okay, Blue,” assured he. “Now, we can discuss this further over breakfast.”
Within a few minutes, the three ponies were standing around Pan’s table, a plate of waffles before each one. They talked as they ate.
“So,” began Pan, “apparently Berry’s also planning on visiting sometime this week.”
Daisy finished one waffle and replied, “that’s great! I’d love to meet her.” Midnight nodded in agreement.
“What’s that?” Midnight’s ears perked as she listened. Her two friends listened as well, and they heard a hoof knocking on Daisy Dreamer’s door.
“Daisy? Sweetie, you in there?” Java Blend’s voice called into the mare’s apartment.
“Oh, great,” muttered the lavender unicorn. “Everypony stay quiet.”
After a few seconds, the trio heard hoofsteps, and then a knock on Pan’s front door. “Daisy?’ asked Java again, “are you hanging with those weirdoes again?”
With that remark, Pan looked directly at his door and stood up, replying loudly, “who are you calling weirdoes?”
Daisy’s eyes went wide, and she stealthily slipped into Pan’s bedroom, closing the door silently behind her.
Pan’s door flew open, revealing a very cross-looking Java Blend. The mocha stallion glared daggers through his aviators at the two visible ponies. “I’m calling you two weirdoes,” answered he, his tone venomous.
“Well,” said Midnight, glaring back at the large stallion, “Daisy isn’t here.”
Java lowered his sunglasses and looked condescendingly at the mare. “Then how come there’re three plates there?”
“Observant, aren’t you?” remarked Midnight. “Yeah, she was here, key word WAS. She left a few minutes ago.”
“Oh?” The mocha stallion raised his sunglasses and smirked. “So you won’t mind if I have a look in your room back there, will you, Pan?” He then began to slowly trot towards Pan’s bedroom.
“Actually,” began Pan Sear, standing as tall as he could before Java, who was significantly taller than he. “I do mind; you’ve no right to invade my personal space.”
Java chuckled heartily. “What’s the matter?” taunted he. “Afraid I’ll find your collection of frilly little dresses?”
The green stallion’s face grew red, to which Java laughed even harder. “Outta my way, Freak.” He tried to shove Pan with his hoof, but to no avail. Instead, Pan knocked the stallion’s hoof out of his way and brought his own across his mocha face.
Java was addled for a moment, but popped his jaw with a hoof as he regained his composure. “You’ll pay for that, you little cross-dressing coltcuddler!” He took a step towards Pan, but was quickly stopped by Midnight Blue, who brought up her rear hooves and kicked the stallion square in his chest. Coughing loudly, the mocha stallion barked angrily, “fine! I’m not wasting my energy on you freaks!” With that, he hobbled out Pan’s door.
“And stay out, Mule!” taunted Midnight as the stallion left. Within a few seconds, Daisy slowly emerged from Pan’s room.
“Umm,” stuttered the lavender mare, “is he gone?”
Midnight puffed out her chest and boasted, “yes, yes he is. And, because of us, he won’t be bothering you again.”
Daisy scratched her mane with her hoof. “Yeah, thanks. I guess that means my decision’s set in stone now. Thanks, Girls”
Pan and Midnight laughed at the remark. “No problem, Daisy,” said Pan, smiling warmly. “Always happy to help out a friend.”