Shattered Worlds

by Midnightshadow

Divinity - Part 3

The
CONVERSION
►Bureau

Sal was feeling wonderful. He'd been shaking with fear when the man in the white coat had first stuck the huge needle in his neck to administer a dose of some clear liquid, but that part had been over in ten seconds flat. Less than a minute later, and the world was suddenly full of happiness and joy. He felt warm and tingly all over, and everypony was so friendly and happy. He felt the urge to giggle, and ended up neighing loudly in a braying laugh that echoed across the enclosed area. He swayed gently in the non-existent breeze and sighed as he fell first to his knees, and then to his side. He brayed softly as the world went sideways. Flailing his hooves about, he continued giggling as he swam across the floor. It was all so amusing, it really was. Hooves, tail, ears... they all moved! Swish, swish! The floor tasted fantastic too. Kind of gritty, and metallic. Oh! And there were more nice people. He chewed their ankles a little; they tasted of sweat and coffee. And nose-smacks. He wasn't sure if nose-smacks had a taste, but he tasted them anyway.

"Yup, this one's 'bout ready for ya, doc," said one of the orderlies, standing up straight.
Brian Kehan, the vet, kneeled down carefully, pulling back the eyelids and peering in each of Sal's eyes. "He's conscious, but out of it. Just keep him still for me, they usually don't like it when I give them the local anesthetic."
"Same thing every time, doc."
Brian fished another syringe out of his breast pocket, uncapped it, and expertly and efficiently filled it full of more clear liquid from a small bottle. He then busied himself near Sal's rear end. The pony whined, jerking twice in succession. "There we go... Susan?" Brian called, turning to a red-haired woman, "fetch me the trolley, would you? And some number... one thread."

Sal couldn't move. He was being sat on by two large human males whilst a third was doing... whatever he was doing in the area that had hurt just a second ago. Strangely, it didn't hurt at all now. To his endless amusement, a roughly baseball-sized strangely-coloured orb was placed on a plastic sheet just in front of him. It was a dull reddish pink and seemed to be oozing red stuff. It was swiftly joined by another. Then there was the curious sensation of tugging down between his legs. He could feel it, sort of, but... not from that area itself, more by proxy.

Brian straightened and moved to a nearby sink to wash his hands. As he applied the antiseptic soap, he scrubbed his fingers carefully. "I stitched him up rather than leave the wound open, so we'll need to keep an eye on him. We may need to drain it, but everything went well. You can get off him now, let him up. Just watch him. Put him next to Princess, it'll keep them both out of trouble."

Sal was still feeling rather amused and strangely light on his hooves as he was half-dragged and half-walked across the enclosure to an out-of-the-way holding pen. He gratefully slumped to his side in the pile of hay, giggling more as the world spun. Two concerned human faces looked down at him as they closed the gate. He waggled a hoof at them and the two men shrugged then left, leaving a parting, "have fun with Princess!" over their shoulders.
Sal looked upwards. At least, he was pretty sure it was up. A purple muzzle looked down at him. It snorted.
"Who are you?" the purple pony asked.
Sal's tongue hung out of his mouth limply, flapping around wordlessly.
"Don't say much, do you?" The purple pony snorted, "Newfoals." The pony sat down on his haunches. "I see they got to ya, huh?" Sal just giggled and kicked a foreleg weakly. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Makes you silly as a filly, that stuff. Ponies call me Westwind. West for short. What's your name?"
Sal was silent for a moment. "E'ryone calls me Sunshine," whispered Sal, slurring his words around an uncooperative tongue, suddenly bashful. He sucked on a hoof and tried to hide behind his mane.
"I can see why," replied West. He rolled his eyes as 'Sunshine' just lay there looking confused. "You haven't looked in a mirror, have you?"
Sal shook his head. Then he shivered.
West cleared his own mane out of his eyes with a snort. "You're cold. They should've given you a blanket. Here, lemme—" West broke off, his words turning to incoherent mumbling as the pony bit at the latch of his stall and maneuvered it with a jiggle of his head. The gate swung open and West stepped out. He shook himself and then opened Sal's gate before trotting in and turning around. He shut the gate carefully and then wriggled himself down next to the bright yellow pony. They were nose-to-tail, and West leaned up against Sal, placing his head on the other pony's rump. "Might as well get comfy, you'll be in here for a day or two."
West yawned, and Sal followed suit. Growing warmer, with the comforting bulk of another pony next to him, Sal's head drooped to the hay-covered floor. A few minutes later, he was snoring.

Sal came awake slowly, still drowsy. He felt... surprisingly good. He lay there, letting his brain catch up with things. He was lying on a comfortable bed of what seemed to be straw, and surrounded by the musky scent of pony. He yawned and opened his eyes, and was confronted with a view of the underside of a male pony. He stiffened, embarrassed.
"Hey there, Sunshine, back with us?" whispered a voice.
"W-West?" replied Sal, in an equally low whisper.
"Uh huh. You still tired, hon?"
"I, er..." Sunshine blinked. He was very close. "Kinda."
"Sleep then. It's night-time and I'm too tired to get up. 'Sides, it's cold and I'm comfy."
Sal listened as West's breathing grew heavier and slower, fading to a rumbling baritone snore. He daren't move. Besides, it wasn't as if the view was... bad, but there was something bothering him about it, he just couldn't put his hoof on it. Trying not to stare, Sal sighed deeply, closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

Sal's ear was wet. It was wet, and being chewed. He kicked a hoof to get whatever-it-was off.
"Up you get, buddy. You've got to stand up, They're gonna wanna check you out," said a male voice.
Sal grumbled something and tried to turn over.
"If you don't, you're going to wish you had. I've gotta go, and this stall is pretty small."
Sal opened his eyes, and looked up to see two pendulous orbs and a long, thick organ which seemed overly and impressively large as it hung down almost to his muzzle. Sal scooted backwards and winced, a very private place under his tail hurting like the blazes. Gritting his teeth, Sal got to his hooves. He wrinkled his muzzle as the purple pony relieved himself, and he shook his own mane and tail out.
"Feeling better? Less wonky?"
Sal shook his head.
"Still not talking, huh?" West chewed Sal's mane for a few moments before breaking off. "Sunshine? You... wanna groom me? I'm kind of a mess, and a pony of my station shouldn't look quite so... windswept."
Sal blinked, looking confused.
"Groom? You know? With your teeth? I could ask the humans to do it, but it's nicer if a pony does it... surely you know that? No? I... I guess not. You don't have to you know, just a thought." West looked despondent.
"Don't know how," whispered Sal.
"Just do what I do," grinned West, and he started chewing Sal's mane again. Sal shivered with delight at the feeling. He'd never really liked it before when, after sex, some of his clients had stroked his hair. They'd always had clammy fingers and bad breath, but he'd moaned and cooed in all the right places. This, though... this was entirely different. Almost as if in a daze, he felt himself methodically chewing and pulling at the other pony's coat and mane, yanking free old hairs and rough strands. He groomed West's sides, withers and back, moving along the pony's barrel to his haunches. Then he stiffened as West's muzzle moved to his tail.
"Whuf? foo goffa—" West spat out Sal's tail, "you've gotta do the tail too."
Sal jinked as West's teeth and tongue nipped at his rear end. Nickering with surprise, Sal was saved by the arrival of two orderlies and the vet. As the stall door was opened, Sal was lead out by way of having an orange halter expertly fastened over his head. A rope was clipped to his left side and tugged gently. The unexpected action made him instinctively follow, and he was lead around in a circle, the vet watching his steps.
"Good, good. He's a bit stiff, but that's hardly surprising. Let's have a look at you, boy," the vet said. Brian fished in his pockets for one of those brown sugary lumps. Sal's ears pricked up, all by themselves. Brian chuckled, "I know you guys love these. Listen, I've got to take a look at my work, okay? Don't want you getting sick."
Sal was offered the treat, which he found his mouth watering over. As far as jobs for food went, this was one of his easiest. He whinnied a little as the vet prodded him, but the vet soon stood up and wiped his hands off.
"Yup, you're good. Turn him out with the rest, let him socialize a little. I'll check up again tonight, we'll shoe him later I guess." Brian turned to Westwind, "Now, you were saying you had some tooth spikes?"
Westwind snorted, "I expected you yesterday," said the pony, "I'm not used to being kept waiting."
Brian raised an eyebrow, "Well I'm sorry about that. Maybe I can offer you a sugarlump?"
"You think you can bribe away your lackadaisical attitude to my healthcare?" West flicked his tail, snorting derisiviely.
"Yup." Brian grinned, knowingly, holding out a cube.
"Three or I'm telling."
"One now, one after. IF you behave."
Westwind pouted as Sal was lead out. "Fine. Tyrant."

Sal found himself lead past rows of stalls, through a large door, and out into bright autumn sunlight. It hurt his eyes and turned away, but a swift, hard tug on his halter snapped him back.
"Come on, this way Sunshine."
The feel of cool, wet mud on his hooves made him shiver slightly, and his stomach rumbled with hunger. A large wooden gate was unlatched and pulled open, the rope was unclipped from the ring in his halter near his cheek, and a sudden slap to his rump sent him galloping into the field. By the time Sal had collected himself and turned around, the gate had been shut
"Go on, go play. Shoo!"
The orderly waved his hands at the pony, Sal just trotted up and down the fence. What was he supposed to do? He was hungry and out in the open, the first was relatively normal but the second meant trouble. He backed away from the human, ears flat against his skull as realization dawned. He was trapped, out in the field! He was trapped out where anypony could see him! He had to... he had to get away! Sal ran for it, but didn't get very far. Less than ten seconds later, he found himself approaching a group of ponies. Unknown people were usually trouble, so he skidded to a halt. For a few moments, two feelings warred within. Unknown people were trouble. Unknown people could hit and kick, or throw things at him, or drug him and drag him away, or just beat him up and steal all his stuff. It was this last fact which made him think. He didn't actually have anything any more. Except the halter, and he wasn't sure whether that was 'his' or not. He was wearing it, so it probably was. It counted, right? With a thought that stopped him dead in his tracks, he realized he'd let them take it off him if they wanted to. He shook his head, that wasn't normal, not for him. He started trotting again, letting his mind wander. What else wasn't normal? What else was he doing which was out of the ordinary? Another four-hoofed full-stop later, and he realized that a wandering mind was only the first. The fact he was still heading towards the ponies in front of him was the second. He should be scared, said one portion of his mind, he should be fearful and afraid and cautious and hide and observe and stay safe and keep on the outskirts and edges and--
"H-hello," he found himself saying, shyly. He flicked his ears nervously as a large, bay mare shouldered her way through the crowd.
"Newfoal," she stated. Her nostrils flared as she inspected him, circling deliberately.
"I, uh, y-yes--"
"They call you Sunshine." Another statement. "I'm Nutmeg, honey, and you're safe now. Whoever you were, whatever you did--"
"I didn't do--"
"Shhh," Nutmeg comforted him, stepping closer. "I said it, I meant it. Whatever you did, whoever you were, it's over now. Come with Mama Nutmeg, Sunshine. Come meet your new family."
"My new-? Mama-?" Sunshine turned his head from the expectant crowd of ponies, back to the bay mare who dwarfed his slender frame as she stood next to him.
Tossing her head, neighing affirmatively, she shepherded the hesitant pony to the herd, where he was soon surrounded by inquisitive, friendly noses and a torrent of breaths.