//------------------------------// // Oh not again! // Story: A Bad Seed // by The Blue EM2 //------------------------------// It was a fairly normal day in South Kensington. South Kensington, for those who do not know, was a part of London, a reasonably well-off place which had large homes, museums, and, like any self-respecting London borough, a Tube station. It was at this Tube station that Will Johnson was waiting, for a special working. Will was a chap in his mid-20s with tan skin and brown hair. He was tall, at 6 foot 1, and was dressed in a blue short-sleeved shirt and jeans, with a pair of boots that would have looked more at home on a hiker going up Ribblehead than in a Tube station. He also had a camera in his hand, which was currently trained on the Gloucester Road tunnel portal. “Just a few minutes more,” he muttered. Just then, a loud rumbling could be heard coming down the tunnel. This was followed by a great light, which got progressively brighter. The rumbling got louder. Yes! This was what he had come to see! It roared out of the tunnel, a vision of deep red and grey. The cab had three windows, and the destination headboard read ‘Cockfosters’. Stop laughing. Yes, you at the back. This was a set of 1938 Tube Stock, running today on the Piccadilly Line as part of the London Transport Heritage weekend. Met. No. 1, and one of the Red Panniers, were pulling trains to Amersham, but this was the first time this heritage stock had been seen on the Piccadilly line. After pausing at the station for people to get on, the set pulled away. Will smiled at what he had seen and filmed. It reminded him of trips to Phorum Peninsula to see the last of these sets running, or journeys on the Island Line in the 483s. What happy days. Will got home later that day, scraping his key in the lock of his tall house. Dropping his bag on the floor, he took his camera upstairs and plugged it into his computer, so he could transfer the film he had recorded. He walked back over to his door, and saw a letter had fallen through the letterbox. As anyone who has received a letter would do, he turned it over to read the address. But it was one he didn’t recognise. “Probably that pizza place sending me adverts again,” he said. He opened it up. The letter had only two words written on it. YOU WIN! “I win what?” Just then, a jolt of electricity shot through his body, and he dropped the letter, suddenly feeling very ill. “What the?” he said, running over to a mirror and stopping in shock. His shoes had come off, followed shortly after by its neighbours, the socks. As he looked back in confusion, his toes suddenly shrank into his foot, leaving a stump-like appendage behind. “Jeepers! What’s goin’-” He stopped. “What happened to my voice?” Whereas he’d previously been the proud owner of a Home Counties accent, it had been replaced with a Bronx one. Not only that, it sounded like that a pre-teen girl would have. “This is too wier-AARGH!” he (they?) cried, as the joints in his legs broke and reshaped backward relative to their former configuration. The musculature began to comply as well, shifting to suit the new limbs. They then began shrinking in size, till they were approximately half their former length. He then felt a strange sensation in between his legs. “Oh no.” As his manhood vanished, her hips reshaped themselves, bringing her legs below her, like a quadruped. This was followed by her spine and torso shrinking in length. Two...things appeared between her legs, as her shoulders and upper arms moved positions. These shrank too, and the joints again broke and reshaped into a new form, causing the poor creature unspeakable pain. Her fingers and thumbs shrank into her hands, rendering them stumps like on her rear legs. Wait, rear legs? “Oh shit!” she cried, as she realised what was going on. “I don’t wanna be a pony!” Fate ignored her, as her nose and mouth pushed out into a muzzle, with her teeth flattening into those of an equine. Her eyes changed colour to green, followed by her hair falling into her eyes and turning pink. There was a moment of deafness as her ears shrank into her head, then a new pair grew atop her skull. Then fur sprouted all over her body, being a light brown in colour. Babs Seed desperately tried to extricate herself from the items of clothing she had once occupied. Sliding out of the back of the shirt, she ran over to the window and looked out. “What the?” she asked. “Where in Equestria am I?” The tiny filly took in the scene with a feeling of apprehension. This looked nothing like Manehattan! The architecture was all wrong! She stepped backwards, looking around her. The room was far too big for any ponies. How on earth would they even get up on those chairs? And that stove looked large enough to cook a pony alive. Wait, what? Babs peered out of the window again. Below her were the creatures of this world. All of them walking about on two limbs. “Is that what those creatures do?” she asked, confused. “Must be hard keepin’ balance.” Just then, the energy jolt shot through her again. “Ow! What’s goin’ on here?” She got her answer as a set of fingers began growing out of her front hooves. Babs did what any reasonable pony would do in this situation. Scream. “ARGH! WHAT THE BUCK IS HAPPENIN’ TO ME?” The joints in her legs inverted for the second time in the space of 15 minutes, and her rear legs grew longer, followed by her torso changing shape to look vaguely humanoid. Her neck shifted, forcing her head down, and two breasts grew on her now-chest. But they were ridiculously big, at least D-cups. The room began to shrink as she shot up, from 2 foot 1 to about 4 foot 9. Babs also realised she was stark naked. She quickly covered her exposed breasts with her...arms, which were still covered in fur. Come to think of it, so was her entire body. She staggered forward as she was hit with a massive info dump. Memories belonging to a guy called Will flooded into her mind, the two sets of memories meshing perfectly with one another, forming a new identity. This wasn’t the only thing that changed. She suddenly gained clothing, in the form of blue shoes, jeans, a green undershirt and a black hoodie. She looked down, and sighed in relief. “That solves that one, I suppose. So, I’m in... London?” She quickly walked over to the stove, and took out a piece of Quorn (this person had previously been a vegetarian) and put it in the tray, along with some carrots and potatoes in a bowl. Those went into the microwave, and soon Babs sat down to enjoy her meal. It worked very well, even if the...nondescript meat substance was hard work on her teeth. After checking out what had been filmed, Babs went off to see what was on TV. She was midway through the first episode of season 4 of Luther when the energy jolt hit. “What now?” Her height shifted once again, increasing to 5 foot. She felt an odd sensation in her feet as toes suddenly grew back in, followed by her muzzle shrinking into her face, giving her a human appearance for the first time in hours. This was followed by her ears vanishing, only to be replaced with human ones, and then the parting of her mane shifted to look like human hair. Her breasts shrank as well, becoming much smaller-Bs, Babs guessed. And yes, her clothes changed as well. The hoodie vanished, and the undershirt morphed into a striped long-sleeved shirt. The jeans became a pair of green slacks, and her blue shoes changed colour to red and white. 3 transformations in one day. “I’m havin’ the weirdest day,” Babs groaned, as her fur shrank back into her body, her skin changing colour to brown. Just what could have caused this? Babs wandered over to the door again and took a glance at the floor. There was the letter. Remembering what had happened last time, she simply knelt in front of it and read it carefully. “What precisely did I win?” she wondered out loud. “I can hardly go out in public like this!” Just then, her skin tone faded to a light tan, and her hair turned brown. Babs decided to experiment. She concentrated on being Babs, and sure enough her skin changed colour again. She then remembered the anthro form, and within minutes was that half-pony thing again. “Why not go all the way?” she suggested, and sure enough within the space of a few minutes there was a pony trotting around the corridors. Shifting back to the last form, Babs-or Barbara, when in public-smiled. “This could be fun,” she grinned.