//------------------------------// // 3 – Dysphoria // Story: Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.1 // by Alsey //------------------------------// [Content Warning: Self-Harm, Blood] Ambre's View I was poking with a nail at the so-called horn jutting from my skull when my eyes fell towards the floor, and I caught sight of what was happening under the black fabric of Sarah's socks... ... And now I can't look away... The shape is wrong. So very, very wrong. The midfoot looks too long, just enough to be noticed, and more tubular, but it's the forefoot that is so... So not-foot! It's like her toes all inflated to the point of merging into a single big lumpy thing... The ankles and heels are still as they should be... But for how long? I can't be sure if the thing is still slowly changing right under my eyes, or if I'm only imagining it! Sarah looks down at her twisted feet, but she seems more puzzled than horrified: “Uh.” She bends, reaching with a hand, and pulls her left sock off. The point where the toes should contact with the rest of the foot is swollen into a roughly circular band of flesh, and from there extends a slightly slimmer... Well I suppose that's supposed to be a toe... The only big, cylindrical toe. Its tip is even more bloated than the rest, even more than the ankle in fact, with a flat end. The whole distorted foot is covered in fur of almost the same gamboge hue as Sarah's ears, except for the sickeningly extended light brown nail that encircles almost all of the toetip's outer surface. It's... Oh who am I even kidding, it's a big friggin' horse hoof, plain and simple!! We all stare with bated breath as Sarah wriggles her exposed hoof this way and that, curling it a little like the enormous toe that it is... “Well. That's something.”, she comments simply, bringing the hoof down against the floor tiles with a distinct 'clop'. I look down at my own feet, still safely encased in my sneakers. I don't want to admit that they feel far more snug than when I put them on, especially near the tip... We all changed the same way, at approximately the same time. It would be... foolish to hope I'd be spared now, right? I suppose I am foolish... “Hey.” I turn to Sarah, who puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Don't worry. It doesn't hurt.” Not physically, maybe, but... I... I can't hide from my own body! With trembling fingers, I untie one of my sneakers, and take it off. My thin white sock leaves little to the imagination – I've changed too, but not as much as Sarah. Not yet, at least. I can't move or even feel individual toes anymore, and the whole thing looks more swollen and tubular, but the shape isn't 'finished' yet, for lack of a better term. It's a... peculiar feeling, having a hoof, or most-of-a-hoof as the case may be. It feels more like a direct extension of the foot and the leg than the toes did; like my brain can process the whole as one long segmented thing, rather than a thing that subdivides into five smaller individual things. The horn covering doesn't feel as heavy as I would've thought, but maybe that's because it's not fully grown yet. As for the underside, it's still very sensitive, at least in the mid— My ears jump at the sound of something falling. Looking up, I see Laurence, sprawled on the floor like she somehow fell from the couch. She stutters incoherently, eyes wide, staring in turn at Sarah's hooves, my own hooves-to-be, and her slippers-clad feet. Sébastien rises up from his chair to help her, but she scrambles upright, and dashes for the kitchen. I hear the sound of cutlery. As one we rush after her, and we find her squatting in a corner of the kitchen, a steak knife in her hands! Sébastien reacts first and struggles to stop her from lashing down on her exposed foot, but there's already bloody lines carved into her skin!! Wh– what should I do!? Sarah shoves me aside without a word; it needs the both of them to overcome Laurence's desperate strength, but as they try to wrench the knife from her hands the blade bites deep into Sébastien's forearm! Laurence lets go suddenly as her friend hisses in pain, the bloodied utensil clattering on the floor. Sébastien is bleeding, and– and Laurence is crying, and... I– I need to do something! Spotting a roll of kitchen paper, I grab a bunch of sheets then crouch at Sébastien's side, pressing against his open wound to stave off the bleeding. I sigh with relief, noticing that the cut, while nasty, isn't as serious as I feared. There's still blood all over, dripping from his arm... “Sarah,” asks Sébastien in a strained voice, “there should be gauze and band-aids under the bathroom sink...” I stay with him and keep pressure until Sarah comes back, and we dress the wound. We're lucky it'll not need stitches... ... And only now do I notice that Laurence isn't in the kitchen anymore. Sébastien does too, and follows after her with the first aid kit. The sudden tension slowly ebbs away, and my heartbeat is on its way to regain its usual rhythm. Sarah looks dazed, and unsure, leaning against a wall, fiddling idly with her pants' waistband. What should I do now? Looking at the mess, I guess it's not a bad idea to take more kitchen paper and start wiping the floor. The knife's still here, sullied with red. I take it by the handle, wiping the blade gingerly, and let it clatter into the sink. ... I should've acted, like Sarah, instead of just... standing there. It was stupid, and ridiculous... I need to do better. One of my ears swivels to the voices of Laurence and Sébastien, elsewhere in the little house. I can't make out all their words, but they're heated. Not angry, exactly, just... distressed, which I suppose isn't surprising... As I keep on wiping, I look again at Sarah's hooves, and think about mine. Beyond the surprise, we didn't react all that strongly... Certainly not like Laurence... Maybe it's just the shock, and the freak-out will come later for us? I'm viscerally familiar with body horror – I've lived it – so it could have desensitized me somewhat. Enough to not experience intense dysphoria at seeing my own body mutating into a horse, though..? As I discard the soiled paper into the bin and wash my hands, the talking in the other room stops, and soon Sébastien staggers back into the kitchen. He barely glances at us as he proceeds to prepare himself a glass of what must be very strong tea, considering the liquid's almost black as coffee, and it's only after he has guzzled at least half the drink that he seems to notice we're still here. Poor guy looks drained, and I doubt it's only because of his injury... “Hey girls...”, he chaffs lamely, his smile strained and humorless. “How... How is she?”, asks Sarah. “Let's say she simmered down, but I think it's more because she decided to clam up than anything else...”, he sighs sadly. “You're sure she'll not... try again?” Sébastien's about to answer, but catches himself, mulling over the question and its implications. He looks away, but can't hide the worry gnawing at him, from his rigid fingers to his furrowing brow. Even as his shoulders sag, I have little doubt he's about to go back to his friend's side. I decide to take the initiative: “I'll stay with her.” He blinks at me, surprised. “Really?” “Yes, really.”, I reassure him with a smile. “You and Sarah should try and look up the Internet, now that we know a little more about the... nature of these changes. Maybe we aren't the only ones, after all.” “Yeah, that's not a bad idea.”, concurs Sarah as she keeps twiddling with her pants, probably anxious to get back to things. Sébastien hesitates. I can see the conflict in his expression; what could be the shame of leaving his friend's care to me, but also the emotional drain that comes with it. Between the changes themselves, the horror they should rightfully inspire, Laurence's sudden breakdown, and the impotence against all this... I can understand his weariness. He looks me in the eyes, nods weakly, and whispers a soft “Thank you”. I try to appear confident as I leave them to discuss the next move, and I hope my own decision will not blow up in my face... But I can't just stand back and do nothing. Not again. Walking back to the living room, I notice the uneven, awkward sound and feel of my steps. Not so surprising, with one sock-covered hoof and one over-filled sneaker... I bend to remove the shoe... but no. Instead, I retrieve my missing sneaker near the couch, sit, and try to pull it back on. Considering how Laurence reacted to seeing these changes, it's probably best to minimize exposure. Well, easier said than done..! My original feet weren't that small, but they at least were the correct shape! It's a wonder my other hoof hasn't already burst free of its fabric confines... I barely manage to wriggle the hooftip all the way through the tight shoe, but then there's another issue: what's left of my foot is actually longer than the space left to fill. Seriously..? Buck it, I've more important things to do right now! I force the shoe to accept my changed foot with a brief ripping sound and fasten the laces; it'll do! I hurry towards where the bedroom must be, and find its door open. Laurence is sitting on the edge of her bed, slowly rocking back and forth, hugging herself so strongly her knuckles are white. The hood of her sweatshirt is drawn back, revealing her dark pink mane as well as her blue pony ears, tightly folded back against her skull. I tap lightly against the door to draw her attention. She starts, head spinning towards me and ears springing up, but after this brief instant of surprise she squares her shoulders, her ears easing, and she frowns. I gulp and stand at attention. Why does she keep staring at me like I did something wrong? What am I supposed to do!? Come on Amber, react! “Er, hey..?” Okay, that's a start, right? She doesn't answer, but she doesn't explicitly rebuff me either, so I'll take that as encouraging. I make my way to her side, pushing the door half-closed to give ourselves some privacy, and sit at a respectable distance. So far so good, but I begin to sweat a little under that unyielding gaze, that I can't help but perceive as disapproving... Naturally, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: “It's going to be okay.” She lets out a snort at that, looking down at the floor: “Sorry if I don't share your optimism...” Not the most positive answer I could hope for, but it's still better than just her staring at me. It's true that we're still so much in the dark, but it's not the end either, we must hold on! We can't let ourselves fall down, not yet! I have to find a way to convince her. “I... I understand that it must b—” “How can you understand!?” she snaps, her fiery eyes boring into mine. I barely restrain myself from jumping back, leaving me just enough time to really process what she just said. “Well, er...”, I stammer while gesturing at my mane and ears. The wall of her anger needs a couple seconds to be fully eroded by the logic of things, and she seems to crumble on herself in embarrassment: “Oh... Yes, sorry...” I gently bring my hand towards hers, but she shies away. No contact yet, got it. We stay together in silence, her starting to claw at her legs. I'm worried for a moment, but it looks more like some sort of nervous tick than another attempt at self-harm. I don't feel exactly useful right now, but at least she's not alone. Like the rest of her house, her bedroom is somewhat impersonal. No photos, or posters, or any kind of artwork. Even the furniture is bland, as if her guiding principle when buying her stuff was 'stay neutral'... Not to say that it looks bad, no; just that... I don't know. Sad, maybe? As if her life were devoid of warmth and color... Yet she struck me as a woman very certain and passionate in her ideas and tastes, once she opened up a bit. A case of not judging a book by its cover, I suppose. After a little while we're joined by an ally I had forgotten about: Laurence's cat. The black and brown fuzzball jumps on the bed with us, and reclaims the despondent girl's lap and hands to put them to their rightful use – from a feline perspective at least. I smile, seeing Laurence calm little by little as she strokes and scratches the pelt of her purring companion. The two look content as can be... ... I wonder how ear scratches would feel for us now? Laurence cuts my musings short though: “I– I'm sorry I'm so broken... I should be stronger...”, she says with barely more than a whisper. ... Was that for me, or the cat? I have my answer when she turns towards me, albeit without eye contact: “We're all together in this battle, and I can't let myself fall apart and be the weak link...” “This is an unusual situation, to say the least.”, I reply. “It's natural to feel overwhelmed by it all.” Her jaw tenses, eyes hardening. “It's no excuse. Especially if I become a danger to myself and others. Whatever's happening, I won't let it win without a fight, and I certainly won't lose against myself...” Eh; I know the feeling... “You're the kind who never yields, right..?” She seems to consider carefully the expression, squinting slightly. “Yes... That's exactly the right word.”, she confirms. She goes back to her silent cat petting, but the air already feels clearer; she's almost smiling, even. I stay a little longer, but I think the situation's defused for now. “Well,” I say, standing up, “I'll go see if the others have found anything new, okay?” “Okay...”, she replies absentmindedly. I leave Laurence in her cat's good paws, and— “Ambre.” I stop, already halfway to the door. “Thank you.”, she says softly, still focusing on the cat on her lap. “You're welcome, Laurence.”, I answer with a slight smile. “You said it yourself; we're all together in this.” I leave without closing the door, and get back to the living room. The television displays a static image of cartoon ponies, put on pause. Sébastien is at the computer, though I don't see Sarah. He swivels on his chair at my approach, and he doesn't try to hide the worry from his eyes. “She's all right.”, I reassure him. “Though I suppose I have the cat to thank for that.” He sighs in relief, then chuckles: “Yeah, he knows his stuff.” “How's the arm?” “Just a flesh wound.”, he smirks. “It stings a bit but fret not, I've survived far worse.” “If you say so... Any news?”, I ask, gesturing to the computer screen. “Afraid not... You're still planning on seeing your doc tomorrow?” “Honestly? I'm not sure anymore... I mean, what good will it do? At this point, a mad scientist and/or an exorcist would be a better call...” “Well, maybe that's because of this reasoning that I can't find anything about similar cases, don't you think..?” “... You have a point.”, I admit. “We'll talk about it with the others. Anyway, er, where's the bathroom..?” “Last door down the corridor, after the kitchen.” “Thanks!”, I reply as I'm already on my way. With all this I didn't even take the time to go to the toilet when I woke up, and I'm really starting to feel it... I reach the bathroom door, push it open, an— “Wha—!!”, shrieks Sarah, who's standing with her pants half down in the middle of the bathroom! Fortunately her back's to the door. “Ambre!! For fuck's sake, you scared me!”, she hisses while hastily pulling her pants back in place, pinching her tail in the process, cheeks ablaze. “I– sorry!”, I stammer, taken aback; what was she doing in there, with the door unlocked!? “... Is there a problem?” “Huh no, not at all!”, she claims... dubiously. “Just trying to fit my tail better! Back to searching right now!” And she escapes in a rush, her hooves clattering through the corridor. Okay..? Anyway, I've more immediate matters to attend to. I lock the door, lift the lid, and... Hm. How to deal with that tail..? Just lifting the tail feels somewhat... kinky, and doesn't help very much anyway, there's so much hair... Thankfully it's pretty flexible, and I'm able to bend the thing around my waist and tuck most of the hair under my sweater; that should do it! I let my sweatpants fall over my abused sneakers, then pull down my two layers of tight underwear. As usual, I avoid looking at my crotch as I take place on the seat, and I relax to let my bladder do its work... ... Wait... That's... That's not the regular sound... Or sensation... So long I've tried to reject, then to forget, and to accept, I could never not notice! I look down, but of course with the tail bulging out my sweater I can't see. Taking a wad of toilet paper in hand, I venture downward... Lower, and lower, until— I... I can't believe it!! Yet what my fingers feel down there is unequivocal. I wipe slowly and methodically, exploring the intricacies of an anatomy that is both foreign and natural, the confusion giving way to a bubbling giddiness, a tentative grin growing wider and wider on my face... It's– it's just incredible!! Standing up, I wobble until I face the mirror, drawing back until I can see as much of my reflection as possible. How many nights have I dreamed to be greeted by such a sight when I would wake? How many days, agonizing over the cards Fate dealt me before I was even born, forever inadequate and broken in the eyes of an unfair society? Learning to accept myself, even the bits that damned me according to others, and making do with all the issues it could bring... ... And now, all this, unraveled by these fantastical changes, and leaving me with this extraordinary new reality... Turning this way and that, I drink in this image, and the utter, well, normalcy of the sight, despite the absurd circumstances. It doesn't really feel that different, after all; who knows how long it would have taken me to discover this transformation? In the grand scheme of things, a pair of hooves or a tail are certainly weirder and more noteworthy than a vulva, and yet... Actually, my tail takes advantage of my shuffling to remind me of its presence, slipping away from under my sweater. Hair's still so long that I risk walking on it if I'm not careful, but I must admit it really completes the mane. I swing it from side to side, and I pull the hem of my sweater a little higher to watch the play of unfamiliar muscles and tendons. It's fascinating that a tail, something I've never craved for or thought to possess, feels no less out of place... I'm about to pull my panties back in place when I notice something else, just above my crotch. These look strangely familiar... And touching one of the two, yes, it feels like a nipple... A large, dark, and a bit leathery one, but otherwise identical to... To... ... Ironic, to think about change blindness, and fail to notice the novel flatness of my chest. Pulling my sweater all the way up, I'm confronted to a distressingly empty brassiere. Not even the nipples are left, but at least they haven't disappeared altogether, just been relocated. My breasts, though... They weren't that big to begin with, but now there's nothing left... I remember so distinctly how I was measuring my cup size twice a week, the first few month after I started on hormones, and the feeling of completeness and bliss that came with seeing my body go through its second puberty, the one it should've gone through in the first place... My bust was the most apparent and undeniable proof of my transition, of me taking control over my own life, over my own body, and now... Now it's gone. Like it never existed in the first place... Well... I suppose this should be the least of my worries, considering I'm turning into some sort of were-pony... My good mood gone as suddenly as it came, I let the sweater fall back over my torso and get dressed. I flush the toilet, wash my hands, and finally leave the bathroom. Laurence's View The infuriating theme song of that My Little Pony cartoon echoes from the living room for the umpteenth time this morning... There's a 'skip intro' feature for a reason, dammit!! Sainfoin takes advantage of my distraction and nabs the strip of gauze from my hand. I let him play with it to his heart's content, looking down at my feet... if I can still call them that. The only upside of this insidious transformation is that it has sped up quite substantially the healing process – the traces of my stupidity are only faint scars by now. The downside is, of course, that the changes are still on-going, with this ugly blue fur creeping up my ankles, at a rate of a little less than two centimeters every half-hour. The alterations of the musculature and bone structure clearly have a head start, though... ... And now I would get the nearest blunt object and bash these things into a pulp, if only it could stave off further changes! *sigh* Calm down Laurence, calm down... Be pragmatic. You can't afford to let yourself fall apart, not when your body's already on its way to do that all on its own! There must be a way to counteract this transformation... Be it unfathomable science or arcane magic, logically there shouldn't be any more difficulty in going ponyfreak-to-human than the reverse, right? It then all comes down to unveiling the means and cause, and forcing whoever is behind it all to put an end to this insanity. For that, I need all my faculties intact, and a body in one piece... So I have to push through!! I will never yie— “Hey, Laurence?” Séb's warm voice pulls me back to the here and now. I unclench my fists, and turn toward my best friend. ... The best friend who was hurt because of me... Why do I always end up hurting those closest to me..? “We're going to have some lunch, want to come?”, he asks with what I recognize as a hopeful expression. I'm tempted to stay holed up in my room, with or without food... but if I really plan on getting my act together, I have to begin somewhere, even with something as benign as this. “That's a good idea, I'll come.”, I say as I get up and wal— ... No don't think about it, don't think about it..! Just keep on w— UGH!! Why are these cursed things so damn LOUD!? I wil— “Stop.” I freeze, feeling his hands fall on my shoulders, holding me firmly. “It's just like the anxiety. Don't let it win. Not again.” I look up at him, at his concerned yet willful face, and I bite down on any angry, instinctive retort, letting my reeling mind lose its unhealthy steam... So many times he had to pull me away from my own failings, and help me doing better. I know he's right. I've learned to always trust his judgment, because when my brain is leading me astray, he's always here to steer me back to the good path... Today's problem is no different than the others. ... And to think, not two minutes ago, I was already determined to do just that... It only took the clip-clop of hooves to utterly destroy any semblance of rationality... I'm so... broken..! “Hey, don't cry... It's alright.” I wish... “We'll get through, together. You know it's always hard at first, that you need a little time to get used to change. You're not broken. You just need time to adapt.” Eh... You probably know me too well for our own good... “Ah there, I like this smile a whole lot more, don't you?” Indeed... I let my smirk get a bit wider. Then Sainfoin comes between Séb and I, and rubs against our legs. He doesn't seem bothered at all by the state of my feet, except from the occasional curious sniff. Thank you, both of you... “Yes... Yes, you're right... As usual.”, I finally say to my best friend, maintaining eye contact for what, for me, is a pretty long time. And I get an idea... I force any auditory stimulus out of my mind as I go for my sock drawer, pulling three pairs of thick winter ones, then I refuse to acknowledge any full-body shiver as I enclose my feet in the layers of cloth. Testing my new getup, I confirm that the sound is nicely muffled. Just like with anxiety – when you can't beat it in a straight fight, you find ways to work around it. I'll count that as a first victory! “So, you were talking about lunch, if I recall?”, I quip with renewed resolve. “That I did. Please follow me, my lady...”, Séb answers with a mock bow. We join Sarah and Amber in the living room, the two girls still watching their cartoon. It's a struggle to keep my eyes from wandering toward the screen, but of course those godawful ears still escape my control, and it's even harder to keep all this pony stuff out of my mind when a part of me is actively trying to put my focus on it..! Why this simple animated show can be so... So... Damn I can't even find a word for it! How do you qualify something that induces so many conflicting emotions and indistinct concepts that it short-circuits your brain? Like, why is it so grating that these imbecile equines weren't even capable of putting the full name of their beloved ruler on their welcoming banner!? Why am I even bothered by this!? *sigh* Case in point, I'd say... Thankfully Séb had the good idea to seize the controller and put the thing on pause! “Hey, we're in the middle of the episode!”, Sarah protests. “Well it'll not go anywhere while we eat! Come on, I put everything in the kitchen.” Sarah huffs, but soon joins Ambre in walking toward the kitchen, their bare hooves... ringing out... as they stroll on the tiling... Nope, no letting myself fall for something so trivial! Not right after Séb had to pull me out of my nonsense! As long as they don't damage my floor, I'll try not thinking about it! Or at least not saying anything... Following after them, I'm surprised to discover unknown bags of groceries on the counter. Where does that come from? Séb must have noticed my stern face: “With two more people staying here for who-knows how long, I thought it was a good idea to stock up a little.” I didn't even notice he went out... “That is a good idea. How much did it cost you though?” “We both pitched in,” says Ambre, pulling out two sandwiches from my fridge and giving one to Sarah, “as we're already freeloading enough as it is.” That's considerate – and duly appreciated. “So,” Séb turns to me, “what will you have?” “Well... There's still pasta from yesterd—” “Got them Sarge!” Amber exclaims, handing me the container with a smile. “Uh, thank you, Amber...”, I mumble as I take the cold helping of elbow macaroni. “... What?”, the blond girl asks when she realizes that our odd looks are aimed at her. “I like to be helpful, that's all.” “It was more a question of... vocabulary.”, opines Séb, taking out a plastic box of tabbouleh from one of the bags. Ambre seems to mull this over, but in the end she just shrugs, as if she didn't notice anything amiss. Whatever... I put the container in the microwave for two good minutes; with the three minced knack sausages within, there should be enough for a satisfying lunch. I always cook a large quantity after boxe practice, but with all the stress, my appetite just wasn't there at the time. Some steam wafts out when I recover the warmed dish, filling the kitchen with its inviting scent, and— “Ugh...”, Sarah grunts. She and Ambre are wrinkling their noses, and quickly leave the room with their sandwiches. The smell of the sausages is maybe a little more noticeable than usual, but nothing warranting this kind of negative reaction. I would have noticed if they were vegans, by now... Séb looks intrigued too, but doesn't share his opinion with me. We follow them back to the living room, bringing napkins and tableware along with our meal. As I sit on the couch and select a metal fork to start on my pasta, I catch an uneasy look on Sarah's face, seated just next to me. Seriously..? Okay, I admit that after the way I've been behaving these past few hours her concern is not totally out of place, but still..! “I'm not going to jab it into my own neck, if that's what you're afraid of...” 'Or in yours', I'm tempted to add, but she seems sufficiently mollified for now, so I choose to focus on my food... ... Though I'm barely half-way through the dish when the girls start fidgeting. “A problem?”, Séb asks from the computer chair. “Not sure...”, mutters Sarah, staring at her club sandwich with distaste. “It's like the turkey's gone bad...” “My tuna tastes strange too...”, Ambre peeps sadly. “Not my fault, I made sure the expiration dates were good. Can I have a look?” Sarah passes him the sandwich. He sniffs at it, cuts out a morsel and chews it experimentally... “Smells and tastes fine to me... But somehow I'm not surprised.” Sarah reclaims her food with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, and Séb disappears for an instant to the kitchen. “Hey Sarah, catch!” I have to give it to her, she's got good reflexes – she has no issue snatching the object Séb just sent through my living room. Said object turns out to be... ... A carrot? Séb returns to the chair, looking expectantly at Sarah. “So? Give it a try!” Sarah eyes the vegetable skeptically. I won't fault her: “Come on Séb, we're not animals... Can't you at least peel it for her?” But after her initial hesitation and a tentative sniff, Sarah shrugs, and takes a large, crunchy bite. “It's good!”, she exclaims, to her own apparent surprise. “Actually that must be one of the best carrots I ever had! And I don't even like raw carrots!” “Even with the peel..?”, I ask dubiously. “It's a little rough on the tongue, yes, but otherwise really tasty! Where did you buy something that good, Sébastien?” “Good ol' supermarket, same as your sandwiches.” You can't help but make your point like you were a detective in a murder mystery, huh..? We get it, our taste buds are changing too... He's not finished though: “Say, Sarah, odd question but, may I see your teeth?” Hearing that, of course my tongue can't help but dart around my mouth, exploring every nook and cranny. I immediately note that my canine teeth are greatly reduced, though still present. There's also just a bit too much space than there should be between canines and premolars, and maybe between canines and incisors, though this could only be due to their diminished size... I can't be sure if there are more subtler changes – were my incisors that wide this morning? Did my molars really have this specific cusp pattern? At least they're all still here... for now... Wait, how many premolars am I supposed to have..? ... Oh god how didn't I even notice my own teeth changing in my mouth!? I let go of my fork and put what's left of my lunch on the coffee table – I don't trust my slightly shaking hands. And I don't think I could swallow anything right now anyway... Sarah's still watching her show, of course... Maybe that's her way to cope. Though maybe I should say 'his'..? Once I knew what to look for, the large unseemly bulge in the front of her pants was hard to miss. Oh, thinking about it, that's also when I finally noticed that my breasts had deflated and migrated to my lower abdomen! Because of course, horses don't have breasts, they have teats – wouldn't want cartoon ponies to be anatomically inaccurate, after all! It's frightening to realize again and again how easily we fail to notice fundamental changes in our physical makeup... But, at least, it's not just me. That would suggest that it's something inherent to this transformation process, rather than a failure on my part... Our voices are a perfect example, too. When it became increasingly evident that the changes wouldn't revert any time soon, and that we would look like freaks for the foreseeable future, Ambre suggested, quite rightfully, that we should contact our respective employers to tell them we would be 'unavailable'. She was about to call one of her colleagues but Séb stopped her. That's when he made us realize that our voices had changed progressively through the day, to the point that, to an outside observer like him, we just didn't sound like our regular selves anymore. To my chagrin, even with it pointed out, I couldn't remember Amber's voice as any different from her current one, but at least Sarah's case was more clear-cut – intellectually, I know she didn't have these deep, masculine tones coming out of her mouth before today. As for my own... *sigh* I shouldn't think about it... But... It's just so... frustrating..! Even after hearing it, and being conscious that yes, this voice isn't my own anymore... I still can't remember how my real voice is supposed to sound like! How can you be unable to remember something so essential!? Yes I can isolate some specificities of my current, altered voice, like the slight raspiness, but... It's another issue altogether to be certain, absolutely certain, that it was, or wasn't, present yesterday. I hope Mom and Dad have some recent recordings... Ugh... Let's stop thinking about that again..! I bring my attention back to the book resting in my hands, or at least try to – I completely forgot where I stopped. It's hard to focus, when my mind's always wandering back to the current situation... Looking up, it doesn't seem Ambre shares my unease, still reclining at the foot of the bed and fully engrossed in her own book. Lucky her... The books were her idea, and that's pretty sweet of her – she tries her best to cheer me up and keep me company since Séb had to go out. He should come back later tonight, but... He's already doing so much for me, for us... What will happen, if we end up as dumb animals? Or even if we keep our mental faculties, what then? Staying cooped up in my house until the end of times, with Séb paying the bills and bringing food regularly? There has to be a way to revert these changes, there has to be..! ... And my stomach decides to keep nagging at me, moaning in despair at its emptiness... Well stop tying yourself into knots at the slightest spike of stress, you idiot! You think it was fun to have to skip dinner!? Seriously, if only that slowed the changes, but no, it seems that cartoon horse biology is hyper-effective, or doesn't care about conservation of mass! I guess I could go make myself a snack... It would be a possibility, yes. But that would mean walking... And I'm... pretty cozy here on the bed... where I don't have to think about hooves, and blue equine-shaped legs, and how it's more and more difficult to stand bipedally... ... Focus on the book, just the book, only the book..! It's funny, I didn't even recall bringing down my copy of Old Man's War, I was surprised when Ambre dug it up from the back of the bookcase. It's been a while since I've read the series, but I remember that it was truly riveting. ... So why is it so hard now to forget everything else and just read? Ambre sure doesn't have this issue... Though when I look at her, the way she just seems to, I don't know, take all this horrendous business in stride, what should I think? It's a good thing that she's able to keep her cool, for sure, but is it healthy to react so mildly to her body being altered so radically? If our perceptions can be so thoroughly affected that we sometimes fail to notice the changes, how can we be sure that our minds aren't tempered with even more insidiously? Is Ambre actually forced to just roll with it, without even realizing it? Is Sarah compelled to watch the cartoon? But then why wouldn't I be affected too? I mean, let's be honest, my psyche is probably an order of magnitude more fucked up than theirs, if anything I should be more susceptible to this kind of influence than someone without any kind of mental illnesses. So what, I get the change blindness, but not the easy acceptance? I still don't know enough, there's not enough data to even begin to form a working hypothesis... It's just a game of wait-and-see now. ... Maybe I should just try to restart at the beginning of the chapter... I try turning the pages, but the damn book slips out of my grip. Weeeell, let's resume at chapter one then, for all the difference that it makes... So I grab the book, and— And I let it fall again, when I realize I can barely move my fingers individually. ... Okay, calm down, just calm down!! This isn't what it looks like, you're just stressed out and this results in a temporary fine motor coordination deficiency, that's all! Perfectly usual! Absolutely nothing to be worried about! This is all normal, and you will pick this fucking book and start reading and appreciate it as it's supposed to be! ... What are you waiting for!? Just do it! ... Maybe... Maybe I should just take a nap, or something? In fact it's getting late, it wouldn't be unreasonable to simply call it a night... ... But what would I wake up as..? I look up at Ambre, still blissfully lost in her reading. She riffles through her book, flicking the pages with the tip of her middle finger. The others are passive, barely twitching, yet it doesn't seem to hinder her in any significant way. She's only reading a book though – if she's really losing most of her manual dexterity, what about using a phone, or a keyboard, or a controller? How can she not realize the significance of her growing handicap? Is she still unable to detect these changes unless they receive specific attention? “Uh, Ambre?” “Yes, Laurence?”, she answers softly, laying her book down and focusing completely on me. She's so sweet, with that candid look of hers, even with that ridiculous overblown mane... Why would I want her to agonize over this as much as I do..? But no... This is all unfolding without her consent, and this pernicious transformation is doing its best to proceed unnoticed and unopposed – keeping her in the dark would be a disservice to her! “Can I help you with something?”, she asks with a slight tilt of the head. “I... Did you notice your hands?” “My hands..?” She starts turning them this way and that, though the changes aren't overtly visible – yet. It's only when she tries to flex her fingers that she goes wide-eyed in surprise. “Oh...”, she sighs, ears drooping, then she chuckles morosely: “Well, I suppose this was to be expected, right..?” Wha– But how can she— “How can you say that so lightly!?” “Sorry Sarge!”, she immediately straightens up, looking almost frightened. This thing again..? Is it her brain being mucked up by more mental changes? Now she stares at me anxiously, like I'm about to lash at her or... or... Well I guess I just did that... Is this thing making me even more broken than usual..? Desperate and mean and aggressive and stupid? I can't let it get the better of me! I bring a trembling hand to massage the bridge of my nose... ... But it doesn't work. It doesn't work. The fingers are stiff. Clunky. Useless. Useless There's a slight delay, between the instant my fist strikes the wall and the moment my brain fully registers the pain. Delay's shorter on second strike. The tingling numbness creeps up to my wrist. Strike three. Strike four. Then five, with the other hand. Six, seven, there's only pain, pain that washes everything else away. Eight, ni— “Stop, please!!” I fall over, Amber clinging to my back. She tries to restrain me, but I'm stronger. I could knock her off. “Laurence!” I could hurt her. “Please!” I... I can't do that. I'm supposed to help her. To protect her. This isn't me! I can't hurt her! I force my body to go limp, even if it keeps being rattled by my sobs. My hands still pulse with pain. “It's gonna be okay, I promise... It's gonna be okay...”, she whispers in my ears, hugging me tight. “No... It won't...”, I mumble once I can catch my breath, “And you know it...” She holds me even tighter. “Laurence, I...” “It's all right... I can't do anything either after all... I'm just going to keep... To keep degenerating into this... This thing that isn't me... But I can't let it win..! It's destroying me... I... I need to destroy it first..!” “I understand, but—” I just snort at that... “No, really. I understand. Probably more than you imagine, actually...” “Ah!”, I spit through the tears, “Really!? Maybe it's happening to both of us, but you don't seem to be that distraught about it, are you!? So tell me Amber, do you truly understand what it feels like!? To have your own body utterly defaced, mutilated into a parody of what you are!? To feel yourself desperate enough to carve away all the parts rebelling against you, even if there's nothing left!? Do you REALLY understand that!?” “Yes.”, she answers bluntly. ... Uh..? I'm too dazed to even consider resisting as she gently rolls me on my side, then nestles against my back, her head just behind mine. “I'm trans.”, she simply says. She's... what? 'Trans' as in 'transgender'? “So... You want to be a guy..?” Shouldn't she be far more frustrated then, considering what's happening to Sarah..? “No, no!”, she giggles, “I mean, I'm a girl, but I was assigned 'boy' at birth.” “Oh... Sorry...” “You don't have to be; it could be seen as flattering, in a sense, no?” “If you say so...” “I do say so. Anyway, my point is... Mmh, how to... See, I didn't recognize I was trans until after my puberty had completed its course, but that doesn't mean that, deep down, I wasn't already a girl... in a manner of speaking. I mean, let's not get overly philosophical, and consider that I've always been a girl, just, er, not overtly. Not consciously. You get what I mean?” “I think so, yes...” Though I'm not sure how you can be a gender 'unconsciously'..? “So when I was beginning on my teenage years, I was basically in the situation of a girl, forced to undergo a masculine puberty. Getting taller and broader, voice dropping, facial and body hair, and so on... For everybody it was perfectly natural, of course; that's what was expected, according to my birth assignment. But inside, I was a girl. All my childhood I had integrated what we as a society expect from a girl, what a girl is 'supposed to be like', even if, again, that was a subconscious thing. So when puberty hit, and I was growing more masculine in body, I was horrified. I didn't even know why!” Oh... “There was this constant sense of doom, like I was in a car rushing towards a cliff, and with no brakes... It was slow, of course, but also inexorable. I was despaired when I realized that my voice had changed so much I couldn't even remember how it was before... Everyday a little more masculine, and a little less happy to be alive... Didn't even know why... Seems so obvious, in retrospect...” “It must have been... Difficult...” And if she was feeling even a fraction of what I'm feeling now, for years on end, without a clear cause... “That it was... My body was becoming more and more of a prison, in my eyes... Oh but for everybody else, it was just normal! They were persuaded that I should be happier, and more active, more outgoing... Of course, I basically was on the inverse trajectory. I grew depressed, withdrawn, apathetic... suicidal... I... I got to hurt myself, just to relieve the agony inside... Maybe also to feel like I could get some measure of control back over my body, even if it was just in destroying it...” She lets out a heavy sigh, and snuggles closer. I don't push her away. "... But it wasn't the way. Hurting myself was only making things worse, though at the time it seemed like the only thing I could do. Lucky I was never into alcohol or other drugs... Maybe books were also an outlet, come to think of it... Anyway yes, my best friend at the time offered me a book series when I was, hmm, seventeen I think. In these books, the protagonist was born a girl, but was disguised as her dead twin brother, right after she was born, so she spent all her childhood thinking she was a boy, and everybody treating her like one, but with time her original gender came through more and more often, until one day she dropped the disguise, and lived fully as herself..." “That's an... interesting concept.” “Past-me certainly thought so, because it instantly became my all-time favorite book series. And don't get me wrong, it's good, real good, objectively, even if now with hindsight the trans allegory could've been handled better, but of course I'm pretty sure the main factor was that I found so much of myself in that story... It made me curious about stories exploring similar ideas, and that's how I stumbled upon the real-world concepts of transidentity, and of transition.” “So you finally knew what was wrong with you, huh..?” “I wish..! No, I spent a good year still learning about it, but even if it was really interesting, it was just something other people did, not someone like me. Even if I tried transitioning, I was thinking that I was just too old for the treatments to be effective, and there were just so many risks, and my family would never approve anyway... Maybe that wasn't even my real problem, maybe I was just deluding myself, because I'd been influenced by a story? I didn't dare talking about it with anybody, even my best friend, because, well, what would they have thought of me? A weirdo, a freak, a pervert..? But the seed was planted, and it was growing... One day I finally tried to do, well, feminine stuff. I tried makeup, and, er, failed horribly...” I snicker: “Can't say I'm too fond of it either...” “Well, I've grown to like it, but it's also kind of a necessity, if I want to lessen the chances that somebody looking at my face thinks 'effeminate man' rather than 'woman'... Anyway, I discovered that the more feminine I felt, well, the more I was feeling good with myself. While I was never interested in how I looked while presenting as a guy, now I wanted to look my best. It's through a bunch of little things like that that one day, I just realized, hey, maybe I would actually be happier if I lived full-time as a woman? In my mind that's what decided that I was probably a trans woman, rather than a man enjoying the occasional cross-dressing. I had enough of surviving while trying to pass myself as a guy, and failing spectacularly at that; I knew that I could only live by being myself, and that included accepting I'm a girl...” “And thus you did your transition thing..?” “Well... Not right away... But to use the cliché, it's another story. Anyway, I know that the situations are really, really different, but... I suppose I have more than just an inkling as to how you must be feeling right now, and just how painful it can be...” “I... Yes, I guess you do, in a way...” “So always remember, you're not alone, Laurence... We'll get through this together, one way or another..!” If... If these changes are permanent... Would there be some way to transition back to being fully human, in this case..? We don't even know how this transformation works, how could we ever hope to revert the damages..? Maybe the feeling of losing your body to something else is similar... ... But otherwise... “If you know so well how it feels... then why aren't you feeling it now? Why is it different for you? That's still your body, changing without your consent. I doubt you were 'subconsciously' a cartoon pony too...” She doesn't provide an answer right away, and I can feel her fidgeting against my back. “I... I don't know,” she finally says, voice strained, “maybe it's because at least parts of these changes are affirming, in their own twisted way, but...” Nothing comes after that 'but', though. Maybe she's only now realizing just how much this is all playing with her head. How much her reaction to this horror isn't normal – at all. How can she ever be objective, in this situation? “I just don't know, I'm sorry... I will... I'll think about it...”, she mutters, curling up at little farther from me. Silence falls between us, only breached by our regular breathing. Ambre stays still, not even trying to get back to her book... Is she still thinking about it? If so, well, that's certainly a good thing, huh? It's not normal, that she takes things so easily... Right..? She should... She should suffer... Like me... She... Oh god... Am I really thinking that..? How fucking callous do you have to be, to wish your own suffering on the one who's trying to help you..? She's doing her best, for me. Yes there's clearly something fishy with how these changes manage to go unnoticed, but do I really want my friends to feel as tortured as I do? There's still so much we don't know, we have to keep a cool head if we need to act! Something I even praised Ambre for, earlier... I turn to face her. She's staring blankly ahead, deep in thought, all her features scrunched, ears tightly folded. She looks so vulnerable like that, huddling on my bed... “Hey...” Her red eyes focus on me. “We're going to pull through, Ambre. All three of us.” I dare to reach for her with one of my sore, crippled hands. “Together.” She smiles a little, even if it's not enough to completely erase the anguish etched on her face. She takes hold of my wrist with her own. “Together...” Sarah's View “I told you it wasn't something you could get here in Canterlot, dear.”, the hypocritical posh unicorn on the TV sneers disdainfully. Dang, I wouldn't be able to stand any these snotty Canterlot 'elites'... My hand goes down to the snack bowl at my side, but finds it frustratingly empty... Oh come on, I reloaded just after the Gala, I can't have eaten it all already! There wasn't that many episode since then... was it? I guess I could put the show on pause and make a trip to the kitchen... But walking is really bothersome for the moment. My hips are clearly not made for going around on just two legs anymore, my newfound bulk makes it hard to stay upright, and my forelimbs are still more arms than legs so they're no help... Though looking at my hands, with the stretched palms and swollen middle fingers, I wouldn't give them much more than a couple hours. My wrists must've grown wider too, as my cute birthday bracelet is feeling much tighter than it should... Better take it off before I'm unable to... The front door opens, interrupting my self-examination. I replace the blanket properly over my body – it's gotten too beefy for my clothes to fit comfortably, but with my fur still patchy I feel a bit naked. Peeking over the back of the couch, I see it's Sébastien, finally back from that dinner he couldn't bail out of. The poor guy looks exhausted, and he barely casts me a passing glance as he trudges towards Laurence's room. I admit I left my fellow ponies-to-be to their own devices for most of the day... Laurence seemed to have cooled down, more or less, Ambre was staying with her, my presence wasn't exactly required, I think. And besides, what would it have changed in the end, anyways..? Though I wish they'd been here when the season two premiere rolled around, that Discord monster just gave me the creeps! How can you show something like this to kids, seriously!? Cotton candy clouds and chocolate milk rain may look silly and harmless at first, but that's just window dressing for the emotional torture, the cruelty, the– the pure evilness!! Ugh, I just... It just creeps me out..! My ears unfold at the sound of steps and the shuffle of hooves. Séb is helping Ambre out of the bedroom, and after closing the door they make their way towards me. I scramble out of my laying position, sitting on my haunches to leave them a bit more space to join me on the couch. I can't help but stare a little bit as Ambre climbs on next to me, her shapely legs evident even under those sweatpan— “Sarah..?” I look up at her unamused expression, and feel myself blush. “I, uh, I was just noticing the extent of the changes, sorry...” Which is absolutely the truth, I swear! I've a bit too much personal experience in how it feels to be ogled at to start doing it so shamelessly... Whatever, I'll just, uh, go back to my episode now... One of my ears still can't help but listen in on Ambre and Séb whispering to each other: “How is she?”, he asks. “Not good, but calm... What do you want to do?” “I'll stay the night with her I think. You two will be okay sleeping here?” “We'll manage. I have my sleeping bag, and Sarah can take the couch.” “Good, good... I'll leave you to it then...” “Okay, good night. Just don't touch her back, though.” “Noted. Good night to you too.”, and he leaves back towards the bedroom. My attention shifts back to the cartoon ponies on the screen, but I'm nudged by the real one sitting next to me: “Do you plan on watching this all night..?” My first impulse is to answer 'yes', but as I turn towards Ambre to do just that, I'm confronted to the weariness in her eyes, and their silent pleading, and... “I... Okay, I think I've had enough of it for the day.”, I say with reluctance, switching console and TV off. “Thank you...”, she sighs. She slides off the couch, balancing precariously on her hooves, then goes to her large backpack in the corner of the room to unlatch her rolled-up sleeping bag. “You know,” I start, “I'm sure the couch is large enough for the two of us, if you want..?” That earns me one of those 'really..?', deadpan kind of looks. “Oh come on, I swear this is one-hundred percent innocent! It's not because I've suddenly grown a pecker that I can't control myself!” “Eh,” she snorts softly, laying her bedroll on the other side of the coffee table, “if you say so. Nothing against you, I'm just used to sleeping alone, and I'm really tired after today.” Well if she thinks the floor will be more comfortable, her loss... After a brief trip to the bathroom she shuts the lights off, and not five minutes later I can hear her light snoring. Lucky her... I turn and turn, but I can't find a position that is comfy for both front-end and back-end at the same time..! I guess I'll have to wait... And watch as the last traces of humanity are slowly washed out of my limbs... And... ... Please go to sleep, please go to sleep..!