Jerking his head up, Flash saw a yellow plaid earth pony ponyquinn wearing a windswept blue wig propped up in a chair before a circular wooden dining room table. A single overhead light illuminated the bizarre scene as the ponyquinn gestured to a seat opposite themselves.
Its hinged mouth opened as it stared back at him with surprisingly expressive googly eyes, “Are you truly unable to respect anyone’s time?”
A harsh tsk caused Flash to take in the rest of the table. Three other occupants sat at different points. An orange runt of a pegasus with messy blonde locks with their nose held up high. A massive burnt yellow earth pony with a buzzed mane played idly with their plate. A pale orange pegasus with a long mane tied into interlocking knots looked at him with reproach.
“Hurry up,” his father called out harshly. “Get your rump down for dinner.”
Numbness began to settle over him once more as Flash trudged forward, his whole body slumping as he resigned himself to his fate, responding automatically to a voice he had obeyed for most of his life. He pushed out the chair, scraping it along the darkness with a loud screech. Sitting down, he pulled himself in and forced a shaky smile onto his face.
“Now that we’re finally—” a pointed look at Flash from his mother, Golden Wing, the pupil inside one googly eye rolling erratically “—all together, we can start dinner.” She grabbed a napkin off the table and laid it in her lap. “Flash,” he stiffened in place at her stern tone, “Make sure you cover your lap.”
Doing as he was told, Flash grabbed a napkin off the table and did the same as his mother.
“Seriously, mom?” his sister, Swift Sentry, said with a sharp edge to her voice, their mouth creaking open on its hinge. “Why only Flash? You don’t make any of the rest of us do that.”
“He’s a messy eater and has no manners,” Golden retorted, punctuating the statement with a swift glare. “And these are new chairs. You wouldn't want our new chairs to be stained, would you?”
“Stained chairs are preferable over treating a grown stallion as if he was a five-year-old colt,” Swift growled, grinding up her napkin with a hoof. “Besides that, have you been to his place? It’s—”
“A dirty hole in the wall?” Golden scoffed. “He lives on the lower end of Canterlot. Close to the ground!” She fanned herself with a paper mache wing. “Even worse, reprobates live there, dear. Reprobates!”
“I was going to say immaculate,” Swift hissed out through gritted teeth. “He’s in the military! Cleanliness is required even in off-site living.”
“Oh, please, sis.” Flash’s brother, Lead Sentry, snorted, a puff of glitter blowing out their makeshift nose. “I’m sure Flash still has his habit of leaving clothes everywhere. A decade of service won’t fix that.”
“First off, twerp.” Swift banged the table with a hoof. “He just left his jacket lying around. Second off, I don’t want to hear you of all ponies complaining about someone else’s cleaning habits since you can’t even be bothered to deal with that pile of garbage in your own living room.”
“I don’t have time to worry about something so minor as litter.” Lead rolled the black disks in his plastic eyes. “My job is actually demanding, whereas Flash hardly does anything at his. It’s pathetic that he can’t even hang one jacket up.”
“Guys—” Flash tried to interject.
“There’s enough trash in your house to constitute as a swimming pool!” Swift retorted. “Some of it goes up to my knee!”
“And?” Lead replied. “If it actually got bad enough I could have less important ponies clean it up. Oh! That’s a great idea. Since Flash doesn’t do anything worthwhile—” Flash hung his head “—he can come over and clean it up for me.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Golden praised.
Swift slammed both her hooves into the table, and raised herself from her seat with an angry glare. “Listen here you—!”
“Please, Swift,” Flash interrupted, reaching out with a wing. “It’s fine, just—”
“Enough!” Flash’s father, Stalwart Sentry, shouted. “Swift, sit back down.”
Swift did as she was told, grumbling under her breath.
“And Flash?” Flash turned to his father, snapping his wing back to his side. “Never interrupt your sister again. Understood?”
Flash nodded.
“Use your words,” Stalwart said.
“Understood,” Flash mumbled.
“Good, now eat your food.”
As the sounds of forks scraping on plates filled up the ensuing silence, Flash looked down at his dinner and stiffened in place.
It was revolting.
His mother had made a Vanhoover classic: mashed potatoes, green beans, and honey-roasted salmon, but with what had to be the vilest of ingredients. The potatoes were a putrid yellow with a texture similar to yarn, releasing yellow grease onto the plate. The beans looked plastic, shining too brightly in the light. The salmon was black with the consistency of tar.
Grabbing a fork with his wing, he poked the salmon which popped at the contact and oozed thin purple sludge onto the plate. It took every ounce of his willpower to keep the bile down in his stomach.
“Why aren’t you eating?” Stalwart asked coldly, staring Flash down with his googly eyes menacingly.
“I was just—” Flash took a large gulp to stop the rise of vomit pushing through his throat, “—admiring mom’s cooking. It looks so…” he forced a smile on his face to hide a pained grimace, sweat pouring down his brow, “delicious.”
“Of course it is,” Golden said with an indignant huff. “I spent all evening preparing this, so you better eat all of it.” She punctuated the statement with a jab of her fork in Flash’s direction.
Despite knowing these ponyquinns weren’t his real family, Flash simply nodded, his mouth tightly closed. Though they were made of fabric, the way they acted and the way they spoke was so exact to how his family were that his mind and body simply reacted rather than thought. An automatic response born of decades of obeying without question.
He renewed his focus on the food set before him. He loaded his fork with a piece of each portion and brought it tentatively to his mouth. He took an experimental sniff and immediately regretted it. The smell was a cross between rotten eggs and the underside of a schooner.
Taking a big gulp, he ate the bite.
Then banged his hoof into the floor to keep it down.
His tongue identified the flavour as a combination of ash, gelatin, and moldy lettuce. His throat closed like a vice to stop any of it going down, but he forced it through, his body shaking from the effort. Inch by agonizing inch he managed to push it down until it hit his stomach like a lump of stone. He gasped out a breath, drool dripping out of the corner of his mouth.
“Well, how was it?”
Only semi-coherent from the effort, Flash turned to his brother and replied, “How’s what?”
“The food,” Lead sneered, the implication of ‘idiot’ at the end of the statement quiet. “I’m sure with your unrefined palate it was a bit too much, but surely even you could taste the high quality of our mother’s cooking.”
He wanted to say the food had been the most revolting thing he had ever eaten in his life, but he was hyper-aware of everyone’s eyes on him and pressure made him answer instead with, “It was great. Could really taste the—” he forced his mouth closed to quickly stop the violent upheaval of his stomach “—refinement.”
“Obviously,” Golden said with an upturned nose, her voice tinged with smarmy pride. “Now make sure to finish your plate. No one leaves until all the food is eaten.”
Sheer fear coursed through his body at his mother’s statement. As his family began to eat through their dinner, Flash exercised the full force of his restraint to gulp down every vile morsel.
“So.” Golden cleared her throat. “How is your…” she waved a wing, “career going Flash?”
Startled out of his hyper-focus on trying to keep his food down, Flash looked up blankly at his mother.
“Your mother asked how you’re doing at your job,” Stalwart provided.
“Poorly as anything he does,” Lead added.
Swift opted to glare at Lead.
“Well, I got recently promoted as Captain Shining Armour’s second in honour of my recent deeds,” Flash answered, a hint of pride in his tone. “There was a monster threatening a settlement and I—”
“Took credit I’m sure,” Golden interrupted.
“What? No!” Flash exclaimed. “I would never—”
“Oh, maybe there’s hope for him yet then,” Lead said, a smarmy grin on his face. “Everyone knows that to get ahead you have to—”
“I didn’t—!”
“Do not interrupt your brother,” Stalwart coldly said.
Shutting his mouth, Flash used his wings to partially cover his face as he shrunk back. With some amount of panic, he noticed his body shrink as his perspective shifted noticeably downward.
“Will you lay off?” Swift angrily said. “I’m sure Flash is perfectly capable at his job.”
“It’s Flash, dear,” Golden said with a tone that suggested the reason to be obvious. “He can hardly be trusted to be capable at anything let alone something as taxing as the Royal Guard. Speaking of capable, though, I heard you came in first for the Dodge Junction Marathon,” she gushed with a spattering of excited giggles at the end.
Swift looked ready to argue but instead slumped back into her seat. “Yeah, I did,” she said, resigned.
“A long-distance runner and sprinter in equal measure.” Stalwart nodded contentedly. Flash felt an ache in his heart at the proud tone of his voice. “I would expect nothing less of my own daughter.”
“If you think that’s impressive, you should have seen the last earnings quarter at the bank,” Lead bragged. “Under my leadership, profits are up by 5%.”
“Oh my, yes,” Golden clapped her hooves together. “He’s been doing so well, they promoted my little colt to management and he’s been showing how good a decision that is every day.”
“Of course, mother. Nothing less for the Sentries.” He smirked in Flash’s direction. “Most of the Sentries.”
“Too true, honey,” Golden agreed. “You and Swift really are our pride and joy.”
Flash once more shrunk in his seat, becoming dangerously close to having his nose go under the table. He opted to ignore the sickening feeling in his heart for the one in his stomach as he tried to power through his meal in the hopes of ending this ordeal sooner.
“How’s your wife, Swift?” Golden asked.
“She’s fine,” Swift said tightly. “Pretty tired recently with the pregnancy.”
“Do you know the gender of the foal?” Stalwart questioned.
“Still too early to tell,” Swift answered, a frown marring her face. “And does the gender really matter?”
“Of course, dear,” Golden said with a wave of her hoof. “How else will we know what to buy them when they’re born?”
“Plus, if it's a colt, there’s a chance of them having undesirable traits with how our family is,” Lead added.
Pinning his ears to his head, Flash struggled to take another bite as he shrunk down to just above the edge of the table.
“I’m sure it won’t matter,” Swift retorted through gritted teeth. “They will have an equal chance of success regardless of how they’re born.”
“You need to plan for the possibility of incompetence,” Stalwart bluntly stated. “Gender might not end up playing a factor, but, from what I’ve seen of you three, the colts tend to get too caught up in fantasy. Only just managed to get Lead out of that mindset before it was too late to salvage his happiness.”
Before Swift could retort, Flash interjected, “I’m sure any foal of Swift and Mill will be happy.” Swift turned to Flash in surprise. “With how affectionate and kind Swift and Mill are, it’s hard to see their foal being miserable.”
“Thanks, Flash.” Swift smiled warmly. “That was really sweet of you.”
Flash returned the smile and found his perspective rising with his mood.
“Worthless factors in raising a foal.” Stalwart shook his head. “Flash is a good example of that. We did all we could for him and look how he ended up.”
Golden nodded in agreement with Lead releasing a derisive snort, and Swift staring angrily at Stalwart. Flash laid his head on the table as he shrunk back down to his previous size, his mood sinking further than the low point it already had.
“Wait a moment.” Golden furrowed her brow. “Has Flash met your wife?” Swift nodded in the affirmative. “Why has only he met her? When will you bring her home to see us?”
“She’s busy with the bakery and pregnancy,” Swift answered, clenching her jaw. “Not really in a state to be traveling much.”
“I suppose that would be difficult,” Golden remarked. “Maybe we’ll make a trip to you then.” Swift tensed. “What about you, Lead? Anyone caught your eye?”
“There is this one mare at work,” Lead grinned, waving his fork in a circular motion. “Lovely mare that works in marketing. Hard worker and great figure.”
“Sounds like fine wife material,” Stalwart commented. He regarded Flash with a cold glare. “And you?”
“What about me?” Flash asked.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
“Not currently,” Flash mumbled, his focus on the next bite of food to force down his throat. “I’ve been busy adjusting to my new position and haven’t had time to get out much.”
“Reasonable. So long as it's not another… oh, what was his name, Spear Point?”
“Spearhead,” Flash corrected, furrowing his brow. “And what do you mean by that?”
“Well, he was a… stallion and you with a stallion would be…” Golden started.
“I told you, I’m not attracted to stallions,” Flash cut in, pointedly ignoring his prior conversation with Mulberry.
“I would think not. Such a disgusting life choice,” Stalwart scoffed. “But I find myself skeptical of that claim with how you acted after—”
“It wasn’t like that!” Flash shouted, slamming his hooves on the table, his body growing in tandem with the rage roiling through him. “We were just friends who happened to bunk with each other!”
“Again, your reaction after—” Flash growled. “—the incident makes it feel like there was more there. What with you locking yourself in the room and constantly arguing with us,” Stalwart explained, waving a hoof dismissively. “Otherwise, I don’t understand why you would be getting so worked up over a loser who likes… ugh, what was it again, acid?”
“Acrylics,” Flash hissed through gritted teeth, feeling heat in his cheeks as the table slipped further away from him. “How did you even get those two words mixed up?”
“Dad isn’t some new age weirdo,” Lead snidely remarked.
“It's a basic paint material that’s been around for literal centuries,” Flash retorted.
“Watch your tone, Flash,” Golden chided.
“Are you kidding me, mom!” Swift shouted. “You’ve been on him this entire time over every little thing even when Lead and I are clearly the ones acting up!”
“Flash needs the warnings more, dear. It’s for his own good,” Golden replied with a dismissive wave of her wing.
As Swift launched into a verbal tirade with Golden, Flash stared down his father, snorting as his anger boiled over.
“Why do you have such a problem with me being with a stallion?” Flash asked.
“I thought you said you weren’t into stallions,” Lead noted.
“Shut up, Lead!” Flash retorted.
“Don’t backtalk your brother,” Stalwart interjected. “And it’s because we don’t want you to end up with some deadbeat.”
“Spearhead was a high-ranking officer in the guard, how is he a deadbeat?!”
“I wasn’t referring to just Spearhead,” Stalwart continued. “You lean towards the rowdy types when you should aim for someone higher class to balance out your…” Stalwart sniffed dismissively, “different personality. Even if we were to accept you with a… stallion, the same gender wouldn’t work for you.”
“Swift is married to another mare!” Flash yelled.
“He’s not talking about Swift,” Lead interjected, the ‘idiot’ once more silent.
“Swift is mature enough to handle a same-sex relationship whereas you need a mare to keep you straight,” Stalwart patiently explained. “A stallion would just exacerbate all your bad habits worse than they already are.”
“You don’t know that!” Flash shouted.
“I know actually that, Flash” Stalwart placed his hooves under his chin, staring directly at Flash. “I’ve heard how you talk about your Captain—”
“I’m. Not. Attracted. To. Stallions!” Flash punctuated each word with a slam of his hoof on the table.
“Who are you trying to kid here? We all know about your—” Stalwart shivered in revulsion, “—preferences. I would normally be fine, but the only way you’ll amount to anything—”
“I’m a Vice Captain in the Royal Guard! How is that not enough?!”
“—is if you settle down with a normal mare and try to do better with your offspring. It’s far too late for you to salvage your life at this point.”
Flash felt rather than heard the involuntary growl leave his throat. He slammed his hooves once more on the table, cracking the wood before he made to leave.
“Finish your food!” Golden called out.
Angrily grabbing his fork, Flash shoveled the last bit of food into his mouth and only realized too late what he was eating.
The reaction was instantaneous. His stomach, which had been revolting already from the last vile portions, heaved, emptying its contents through Flash’s mouth and onto the floor. He dropped to the ground, his body shaking as the acrid taste coated his mouth, and his meal coated the darkness in a grotesque display of colour.
When the last had finally left him, Flash wiped the remnants from his mouth with a hoof, unbidden tears falling from his eyes.
“So much for a refined palate,” Lead commented.
Finally reaching his limit, Flash galloped away from the table, his family calling out after him.
A door rose from the darkness. Without pausing, Flash charged through with his shoulder and back into the foyer of the dollhouse, his size increasing with his desperation and anger-ridden emotions.
He crashed into the door, smashing into it over and over again. The wood buckled but held against his rapidly increasing weight.
“Open! Open! OPEN!” Flash screamed, throat hoarse from both bile and yelling. “Break you stupid door! I can’t take it anymore. LET ME OUT!”
His head scraped against the ceiling by the time he ran out of energy. Slumping against the door, he released bitter tears and sobs.
“We have already discussed this.”
Flash peered down at Mulberry who looked back at them with their featureless face.
“You cannot leave until we’ve helped you,” Mulberry continued.
He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to tell them it was unfair. He wanted to tell them he had had enough. He wanted to go home. He wanted to hurt them. He wanted to stop hurting.
But he instead let his emotions run their course until he was back to his normal size and numbness had all but taken all the feeling from his mind and body.
“Shall we get started on your next exercise?” Mulberry asked.
In lieu of a response, Flash got onto his hooves and trotted off toward a random door. Mulberry followed after telling Flash he was going the wrong way, but relented and let the door swing inwards into a new room.
Flash trotted onwards.