My Little Marriage : Mary is a Mare

by MerlosTheMad


Chapter 5 : It's Just A Cold

Stan had left for work some time ago. The sound of him, along with Anna and Bobby leaving the house, echoed in the bedroom.

To make sure they really were gone, Mary looked around once, twice, then a third and a fourth time. As an added bonus, the nervous double-checking kept her from looking at herself, too. She was alone, she knew, but staying seated there on the floor without moving somehow kept her calm. Her arms, or what used to be her arms, were wrapped around herself.

The thought that her legs were wrapped around her other legs as she sat there cradling herself occurred to her. ...That's just all kinds of wrong. She clutched her eyes shut briefly, then re-busied herself with studying the room.

It was two hours later before she actually wanted to move. The familiarity and boredom of the room wasn't distracting her anymore from thinking about the... problem. She still wouldn't face it though; not yet.

Her legs shuffled around to reposition herself on the floor. Her back felt stiff, and her butt had long since fallen asleep. After the pins and needles showed up from moving around, she settled with lowering herself onto her side, instead of sitting in a fetal position. It was surprisingly comfortable laying like this, even on the floor.

Something in the corner of her eye flickered, on reflex and impulse she looked at it, unable to help herself.

"Oh gah, no... just..." Mary buried her head down into the former arms now adorning her front. She started to cry from what she'd just seen in the bedroom lamplight. The urge to smash that light came, then went, and was replaced with more tears stemming from what had caused the movement. In a flash, she tried to further escape it, just her legs weren't enough to hide her from it. The pony shaped human jumped up onto the bed and dove under her covers.

Behind the mare, a blue and creamy tan tail chased closely after her.


It had taken several attempts in order for her to successfully turn off the lamp. Mary had desired nothing more than to just stay under the covers at first, but it got too hot, and quickly. Even with the drapes drawn, and the bedside light off, the room was still bright enough to see in. The light was a curse, it felt as though every bit of darkness helped her cope.

Mary lay there for the next few hours, letting time slip by. As it went she fought off her own thoughts left and right, schooling her mind to blankness. Occasionally, optimism or denial would resurface. Maybe it will wear off? or Perhaps... It's just a REALLY real seeming dream? were regular visitors. Even so, she imagined that of the five stages of grief and loss, she was amidst several of them, not just one. Her denial of the change was clear as day, not to mention anger and isolation. As for stage three...not much I can actually bargain for is there...?

Mary laughed drunkenly. "How exactly could I bargain myself out of this? Oh doctor, not too much, but could we look into making my nose a little smaller?" She giggled a moment, before stopping sharply. She pulled the blanket around herself again, having cooled off some. Now wrapped up as she was in her blanket, she could barely feel her individual body parts. She took deep breaths, and found solace in the touch of the thick fabric against her, rather than herself. It's like a cocoon of safety from reality. She thought. Her face stayed plastered to her pillow.

Distantly, Mary knew she had to fight, wallowing probably wasn't helping the situation. Or maybe she should even run from this thing... No matter what, I should do something, shouldn't I? Feeling tired, she stretched her sore muscles, before recoiling back in on herself and clinging to the blanket.

I wonder what time it is... Mary thought, exhausted. The digital clock buzzed some unimportant number behind her. She rolled over to look at it, instead, her eyes met with the dark green irises of the pony in her mirror. Inexplicably frightened, she clutched tightly against herself from within the blankets, without looking away from the reflection. Maybe I should ask Stan to get rid of that mirror... Or maybe I can stare it down... She fought a yawn down, not breaking eye contact from the mirror.

Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.


Bobby's feet were kicked up on the office desk in the small room. On the side of it, the cover of a book entitled Uncle Tom's Cabin glared at him. He stared tiredly at it a moment, before letting his head fall over the chair's back. Why do schools have to pick books like that. No one likes them.

His dad had forced him to bring his school work. Which was fine, he didn't have to do it or anything. His dad was busy sticking some guy in prison or something. Why lock up a guy for selling drugs anyway, and marijuana even? They're legalizing that everywhere. The government was stupid, he couldn't understand why his dad had wanted to be a part of it.

His neck cricked, it had started doing that lately, was kinda weird. He wondered if it had something to do with how tall he was. In the last year he'd grown another three inches, putting him somewhere around six feet. Not as tall as his dad, but he'd probably end up that tall eventually. He barely worked out too, and he could see already he'd be as strong.

That day couldn't come soon enough either, he'd probably be old enough to get the hell out of that house by then. He wasn't a wuss, not in the least, but...just dealing with his parents was unbearable and pointless. As soon as he could, he was getting a job. Jake and Blake said I could work road construction with them, and they're making money hand over fist. Wonder how long it'd take to get my own car...

Hastily, he raked a hand through his stringy hair, struck with inspiration. If I could get enough to get a good guitar and an amp, we'd be that much closer to starting that band... The grin he wore as he sat up and leaned forward was dark, but eager.

What's dad's deal anyway, he never gives a crap about me, then all of a sudden friggin' school is important enough to drag me here? The guitar he'd been envisioning evaporated into the mahogany desk sitting in front of him, reality reminding him where he was currently stuck for the moment. That's a retarded word...mahogany. Holy hell, what is taking so damn long in there anyway, what time is it?

The clock on the wall read eight past ten, in the morning. Fffffffu-


Stan rapped his fingers on the desk repeatedly, lost in thought. The hearing was taking forever, and he was all too aware that he was not needed. His presence was entirely a formality. After talking face to face with the judge, twice—both times he couldn't divulge what exactly was wrong with his wife or why it was urgent—he'd been asked to knock it off, tactfully.

Stan sighed and leaned back in his chair, resisting the urge to set his feet up on the long desk, which he sat behind with the chief. Focusing on the trial didn't help any; his thoughts were filled with what he'd seen and lived this morning. How the hell was that real, just...how. What am I even going to do about it? He didn't know any witch doctors, the whole thing was like a plot to some horror movie. Or a sick comedy. Tiredly, he combed his cropped red hair back, he needed a haircut. At the word hair, his wife's current state filled his mind, causing him to groan and massage the bridge of his nose.

Absently, he thought of what his father would do in a situation like this... Son, I know why you and Mary are worried, but think of it like this. We could save tons of money on special effects making our own sitcom!

. . .

Stan wasn't sure what was sadder, that he'd probably hit the nail on the head with that thought, or that Herbert would likely say something even more insensitive if he found out. Should I tell them? Hell, what about Mary's parents?

A shoulder nudged him, followed by a cough. He looked over at the chief quickly, then noticed that everyone's eyes in the court room were on him. "Shi-... Sorry." His feet came down from where they had hopped up onto the desk, without him noticing...and he hunkered himself lower in his seat. He tried to meld with the surroundings better. Usually, he was good at deciding when he was the center of attention, despite being tall as hell. Was I that loud? Getting frustrated wasn't easy for him either, but he was now. After a moment, he managed to let a ragged sigh escape him, getting some of the frustration away.

Suddenly, a disturbing thought came back to him. Geez, I hope it's not actually contagious. Stan stared nervously at his hands for the next twenty minutes, until Dan nudged him this time, bringing him back to the court room. He mouthed some explicit words at him and gestured to the judge, who was busy tapping one finger against his own desk.


Mary dreamt of various things, all of them terrifying for her. Worst of all, in all of these dream-scapes, she was alone. In the corner of her eye, a shadowy miasma floated, and always she felt as though she were being watched. Labyrinthine mazes and hallways stretched out around her at one point. At another, she was afloat in the sea, struggling against the waves. Distantly, she was aware something was wrong with her body, here though, she was human. For a long time her emotions and thoughts from the day played out before her for a second time.

Her eyes dragged open eventually. Still shaking and quaking with fear, she tried to lean up. Oh, oh it was just a nightmare. Thank the stars. Something was restraining her. The blankets with which she had sought protection still engulfed her, and had become a tangled mass. She struggled to pull them, but it proved difficult. "Get. OFF!" In an immediate fit of retaliation and anger, she ripped them off of herself. Then, she flung them to the other end of the bed.

Panting, she looked down at herself sadly as she spoke. "But not all of it was a nightmare..." The pale orange fur still covered her from top to bottom. Is it bad, that I actually expected this to be here? That thing which shared her hair's color was still plastered to her butt, too. The tail flicked slightly. She dragged the blanket back over that part of herself, in response.

Abruptly, a ringing noise filled her ears. Mary's ears popped up to full mast and her head turned to peer around the side table at the door. The phone! Should I get it... She decided that bed wasn't the answer, at least this offered a change.

Scrabbling to her hooves and throwing off the blanket—Mary nearly tumbled off the bed. She hadn't bothered to check the clock. Upon landing, she slid slightly, then thumped into the door. "Come on! MOVE!" The door lock clicked finally and she pushed the handle down, opening it with a bang. The phone bleeped another series of noises across the expanse towards her, beckoning her. After the quick dash across the living room, she slid over the next hard wood floor in Stan's office, despite trying to stop immediately. Do I really want to answer it?

The phone was hanging up vertically on the wall. Immediately she tried to stand up unassisted. After wavering there a moment, she failed to do so and fell back onto her hindquarters. It wasn't that she was heavy, balancing in such a way just didn't feel natural anymore. I'm not letting this thing screw with my life, dammit! She tried again on her own, but it just felt weird. It's just impossible with this body!

"Oh, for Pete's sake." Her eyes searched the room, after a moment she found the perfect standing aide. She put her front legs up onto the computer and used it to push herself up quickly. Once standing, she was able to take a couple unsteady steps over to the phone. Her hoof closed around the phone.

I miss my hands. She stared woefully at the hoof, that in fact, merely laid over the phone and refused to do what she had wanted—simply because it couldn't. Angrily, she tried to push the phone up and out of the rack, before it stopped ringing.

Wah! No! Mary's eyes widened as the entire cradle came off the hook set into the wall. In that moment, she also fell, having under-balanced herself for the hasty action. Bracing herself for impact, she landed on her shoulder, her hooves flew up over her head to cover it a second later. The phone crashed next to her and bounced.

Timidly, she raised one leg up to look at the shattered electronic device. She stared at it for a moment, it was silent, in addition to now being in more than one piece.

Mary tried to inspect the pieces, the cordless phone looked okay, but the cradle was in two separate chunks, exposing its innards. She tried to gather up the pieces, to no avail. Instead of attempting to carry them, they were merely pushed out of the way, up against the wall. It was difficult to comfort herself over the broken phone, but she tried. I wouldn't be able to call anyone even if I wanted to, I don't even know where my cell phone is. Putting her mind back together she turned around and began the trek back to her room. It was probably just a telemarketer, anyway...

As she walked passed the computer, the keyboard glared mockingly at her from its annoyingly high perch, which was at eye level with her head from up on the desk.

She growled at it. "I can't belie- Ouch! What the?" Her walk back to the bedroom from her failed excursion, had been halted. Looking behind her at the source of the pain, she spotted it immediately. The tail was caught up under the wheel of Stan's office chair, somehow. "... I just- Wow." She curled around herself, carefully turning so as not to tug on the cursed thing, and pushed the chair off her newest extremity, and away with her head. It rolled a few inches over her tail, looking as though it would release it. "NO! NONONO!"

The fiendish chair had wrapped the tail's long fine hairs further into its clutches, rather than release her. Mary plopped onto the ground and her hooves hovered angrily over the untrustworthy thing. Her teeth clenched as she stared daggers into its being. "This... This is..." She just didn't know how to explain things of such an incredulous nature.

Carefully, she wrapped her hooves around the chair's base, and lifted it. It was light enough, so this was easy for her. Next, she stared at the tail itself. "Alright, now get out of there." It twitched in response to her concentration, as her leg would. The wheel spun and tugged at the tail's resistance, but yielded Mary's unwelcome new friend back to her. A couple hairs remained stuck inside of the furniture though, trophies of the struggle.

Mary grunted approvingly, No big loss. then reached over her head, pulling back her braid out of sight, which had fallen in front of her face. I need to take that out... She considered, her hair would get ruined staying like that.

While Mary walked back into the bedroom and locked the door for safety's sake, she realized she probably wouldn't even be able to unbraid her own hair, either.

The bed loomed above her. "How the heck did I get up there earlier?" She slowed herself down so as not to act too quickly. Her eyes scanned the long breadth of the bed for a way up, the blankets and sheets lined its side providing a slippery climbing surface. A look of despair and dismay scoured across her face.

She stood up using the bed itself for support, but her attempt at lifting her hind leg up to the bed's frame proved impossible. Her knee, leg and ankle bent differently, even if they weren't placed differently, so to speak.

"Grr, fine." Backing up away from the bed Mary crouched, and leaped skywards. Surprisingly, it was easy, and it worked! She cleared the entire side of the bed and landed in its middle with a whud. After giving herself a satisfied hum, she looked back at her strangeness curiously. Her tail swished behind her once again, seemingly of its own accord. Why the hell does it do that? Irritated, she clicked her tongue at herself for slipping again, even if it had just been a stray thought. The mirror mimicked her tail's sapience, and she watched the reflection again for a moment. The strange animal's eyes followed her own movements, then, she let herself slip, and made eye contact.

The reflection of herself stared back at her. "OH! Just, GO. AWAY!" The feelings of accomplishment evaporated.

Mary's head fell into her own hooves full force.

I have hooves, she thought in disbelief.

The reality of things had sunk in to their fullest; she wasn't dreaming, she wasn't on acid, and it wasn't all just some elaborate prank being pulled by Herbert. Her life had already been in an unwelcome downward spiral, nothing outrageous or home breaking, but not at its best either.

The day was moving at a crawl for Mary. Her kids would be home soon, as well as her husband. He was getting them today. Obviously she couldn't, she wouldn't. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, which wasn't easy with hooves. Getting used to not having hands was not something she wanted to do, and it didn't seem it would be easy.

The thought of her kids coming home and possibly seeing her like this scared her. Her eyes flickered to an fro, studying her sheets. What am I going to do? She briefly looked at things in the room to occupy herself, as long as that thing wasn't her.

Mary flopped back onto the bed, once again enshrouded in her impenetrable blanket where she could continue to languish in her self pity. It just isn't fair, she told herself for the thousandth time. Why couldn't this have happened to anyone else? Why me?

Mary's stomach growled up at her; she hadn't at all eaten all day, she realized. Stan will get home and I'll have just sat here all day. Oh God, what did he think of this? He's out there right now, knowing his wife is... disfigured beyond recognition!

Mary glanced down at the dim image of her form under the blanket, then winced again, as if physically struck. What if he leaves me... He wouldn't, there are the kids to consider... Oh Lord the kids. Her thoughts were making circuits, repeating themselves over and over. They had been doing so throughout the day, left alone as she was for now. Ideas had come to her; a desire to look for a cure, find a solution, or some professional help. If this happened to me, surely it isn't unprecedented, then?

Mary's hope for an end had all shattered when it became perfectly clear to her that typing or using a mouse was impossible. I couldn't even pick up the phone to answer it earlier... Her eyes began misting for the thousandth time as her thoughts hung over her new disabilities.

I'll have to move into a petting zoo. She giggled. I'll become a circus attraction. Her hooves wrapped around her head.

"Everyone come see Mary, the talking pony, the freak and eighth wonder of the world!" Mary stood up as she cried out the words, along with all of her frustration releasing itself. She raised her legs above her head in a flourish, then glared at the mirror against the opposite wall.

Mary's reflection glared back at her. Tears ran down her face; she could see the damp fur lining her eyes clearly. The dresser mirror beside the bed she and her husband shared gave her a clear view of the impossibility in her life; her own body.

Mary shuddered at the very sight of herself, and cringed back. She fell back onto the bedspread, sitting down on her haunches in defeat. This can't be possible, she thought plaintively. It just can't be.

"M-mom...?" A child's voice called out.

Mary's pupils contracted in terror at the sound of her nine year old daughter's voice. She audibly gulped and began to wobble, despite sitting securely on the cushioned surface. Already panicking, she didn't bother to stop herself from falling over unceremoniously into a tear-soaked heap. Of course, doing so also caused a lot of noise.

"Mom?... Was that you?" Anna called out through the door. "Are you okay? We're all home now. Dad said you were sick and I shouldn't bother you but, I wanted to..." There was silence for a moment.

Mary picked herself up enough to lean off the bed; her neck stretched towards the securely shut door and Anna's voice. She wanted so badly to hold her daughter, only, she couldn't. At least, that's what she was telling herself.

"Ah... I'm fine, Anna... I just have a cold is all." Mary bit her lip after she spoke, the multi-hued creature in the mirror stood in front of her on the bed as she spoke. Sighing, she sat back onto its surface and her head drooped.

Her daughter answered her, still in a worried tone, but tinged with happiness. Anna was trying to make her feel better. "Oh... Okay... I just wanted to talk to you really bad, I tried this morning but, dad said you were sleeping. Your... Can I come in, mom?" She squeaked the last words through the door.

Mary gulped. Anna's really worried about me, could she know something else is wrong? It made sense, she realized, images of herself fainting at the church, of her almost always being the one to take Anna to school, and pick her up too... She couldn't recall the last time Stan had had to take her to school. Catching herself she backed away from the door, she had been ready to open it, she certainly wanted to. That... Wouldn't be a good idea. The pony hadn't even realized she'd hopped off the bed.

Instead of opening the door, she lied. "I've come down... with a cold sweetie, it's a bit early for the cold season, I know. But I guess I shouldn't have had the window rolled down yesterday, huh?" She laughed nervously from where she'd sat on the floor. "I don't want you catching it Anna, I'll be..." She stifled a sniffle quickly, and kept her voice schooled to calmness. "I'll be better soon though, okay? Mom just needs her rest."

Anna thought her mom sounded a little funny, and yet healthy. She didn't sound like she had a cold at all...

It didn't cross Anna's mind that the other oddity was that her mother was now half of her normal height, sitting on the floor as she was. There had been a strange clunk, too. Her thoughts were solidly on her mother though, not odd sounds. The young girl was in truth, scared for her mom, from recent events. Dad was acting so weird earlier, and mom, she is never sick. Only dad and I get sick! More than that though, she wondered, could this be her fault? People can get sick and faint and stuff when...when they're tired or sad. Things had been a little strange around the house the last month, she at least knew that Bobby was to blame for most of it, he had to be, he never listened! She didn't know why, but she felt guilty. Is it my fault...?

"Anna? Baby?" She hadn't answered Mary, who struggled to keep her voice calm. Her daughter's voice came through the door again, after a moment.

"Okay, I'll let you get better mom," She trailed off briefly, before picking up her voice cheerily again. "Uuh, I'll bring you dinner too! Alright?"

While she looked on at the door, Mary thunked her head against the table to rest next to it. "That...sounds lovely Anna, thank you." Suddenly her thoughts recovered from the shock of her daughter's voice. "Oh, and could you go and get daddy, sweet pea? I need to talk to him."

Anna answered, once again quiet and worried sounding. "Okay... Uhm, mom, I'm going to stay in ballet, maybe. I thought about it, but dad said you wouldn't be able to go to the thing...it's not because you're mad at me, is it?" Mary had to resist the urge to open the door again.

"N-No Anna! Not at all, what got that idea into your head?" Mary cleared her throat, she didn't want to sound harsh. She had been a bit of nag lately... Suddenly, her instincts took over, and her hoof pressed against the door—without her even noticing it. Hesitantly, she withdrew the strange appendage she'd been saddled with. I can't even talk to my own daughter face to face, because of these stupid things...

"I dunno... I just thought, maybe-" Mary thought about what she had said more carefully.

"It's alright sweetie! Don't think that your decisions are wrong just because I don't like them. You have to learn to make your own good ones, after all... But no one's going to be upset with you wanting to play a sport or drop out of ballet. Even... Karate." She managed to keep her sigh miniscule.

On the other side of the door, Anna's smile covered her entire expression. "I'm totally going to kick the most butt then mom! I'll even beat up Bobby when he gets stupid, like usual." Mary buried her face in her hooves, that hadn't quite been the reaction she'd hoped for. "But..." Anna continued. "I will finish the dance thing...the recital this weekend, I guess, for you mom."

"Anna? Are you back he- Heeey kiddo, you shouldn't be bugging your mom, she's really sick right now." Stan crossed the workroom's floor in an attempt to appear calm, inside his senses had all peaked at seeing where his daughter had gone. The door was still shut, though. "You okay honey?"

Mary glanced back at the tussled bedspread. "Yes, I'm fine." She answered flatly. On the other side of the door the sounds of Stan talking to her daughter in a hushed voice leaked back through to her. A moment later, and the door was knocked on.

"May I come in?" Mary began the ritual of propping herself against the table and using the door itself to stand up, then unlatched the lock.

"Enter, if you dare!" She smiled weakly as her husband tread into her lair. Backing up on all fours, she looked up at him. She was barely half his height on all fours, which felt... sickeningly unnatural to her, and Stan was six foot five. He pulled the door shut behind himself, glancing back through the crack, then it clicked.

"I got back as quick as I could," Turning around he knelt down to her level. "How are you feeling? Any more... episodes?" The look he wore was flat, likely Stan just didn't want to add to her worry.

She answered briskly. "No, I...broke the phone in your office though, trying to answer it." The memory made her wilt a little.

"Oh, well that's fine, phones can be replaced. I'm glad you're alright. I was worried when you didn't call actually, but I figured it was a case of 'no news was good news...'" Stan tried to smile but it didn't stick. He and Mary stayed there in silence for a while. In both of their minds, they weren't sure what to say next, Stan hadn't thought of anything helpful, and Mary had slept most of the day.

"Dad! Bobby won't help cook dinner!" The father looked back at the door. Mary's breath caught.

Oh no, how am I going to cook!? Stan looked back at her, and as if reading her mind gave her a reassuring smirk.

"It's alright Mar, we can handle dinner for a while, until this gets sorted out, alright? And it will, too... Anyway, I used to cook plenty before we met." That was a complete lie, he'd been in the military after high school where they'd met. And the only thing Stan knew how to cook was steak, roast and cold cans of ravioli. He won't burn the house down certainly, but... There was a good reason Mary had learned to skillfully keep him away from the stove after they'd become married. Everything he made was edible. But not much past that...


Stan had played it safe, for dinner. "How was it?" Mary scrubbed a napkin over her mouth, ridding it of a trace amount of pizza sauce. The affair that had been eating her first meal as a mutated pony like creature had been... Annoying. Not the least of which because Stan had done a poor job hiding his amusement.

"It was...tasty, very well done." She'd meant it to sound sardonic, but they both laughed, instead.

"Well, that's good." He gave her a satisfied grin at the half compliment. Her own demeanor shifted to a more morose tone.

"Are...you sure? About the trial?" Mary asked quietly. Stan grimaced, and absently cracked one knuckle. He'd gotten into a shouting match with the judge, that hadn't happened in a long time.

He shouldn't have accused me of trying to cheat the dang system. The trial would go on another day, at least. Tomorrow he wouldn't be able to get the day off, either. Maybe not Wednesday, either. "Yeah, I'm sure love. In the mean time just hang in there? We'll get this fixed... We'll fix this thing, don't worry. Just gotta... think of something first." An awkward silence followed Stan's pep talk.

Mary tapped her hoof against the floor in idle thought of her own, after a moment she felt her eyes fall shut. "Gah, I'm awake." They sprang back open to watch Stan, watching her. Smiling back weakly, she realized that she felt tired still. Earlier, her body had felt on edge all through the morning, until she'd fallen asleep. After that rest though, and now... A hoof pressed against her mouth to cover it as she yawned, cracking her jaw. "Oh, wow."

Stan gave her a sideways look, not quite looking worried. "Tired? We can get you in bed if you'd like."

Mary looked up at the bed from the box they'd shared. "Do you think it's safe...?" He followed her eyes to the bed, absently, he knew she was thinking of a connection to it and...what had happened.

"...I dunno. Want to split the couch?" Stan scratched his beard in thought.

Mary had another one of her own, though. What, and have Anna or Bobby walk in and see me!? No way... She didn't want to consider that scenario at all... Not yet. Hopefully, she would never have to. "No... I'm just tired..." Sighing, she laid down there on the floor.

"Well, alright, it wouldn't do if the kids walked in anyway, right Ma- Mar? Maaar." His wife's head lay behind the box, curled in against herself. He peered up and over the makeshift table to look at her face, and then heard the telltale whispy snore she sang while sleeping. He smirked a moment, and frowned in the next. Her tail was swatting at the air around her. This is never going to stop being weird. Gently, he picked her up, she seemed to weigh the same, at least. Carefully, he placed her on the changed bedspread he'd set up for them.

Mary would never admit it to him, but she was a heavy sleeper too, just of a different sort. It was like she knew when she needed to wake up. Stan got himself ready for bed, then clicked off the light.


Finally, Mary heard the back door slam closed on the other side of the wall. After Stan had left the bedroom, much like the day before, a few simple things happened. Firstly, she waited in the bedroom for her family to head out and start the day, leaving her there, horrifyingly and yet blessedly alone. Unbeknownst to her, the ears now adorning her head twitched at the sounds of Anna's laughter and Stan's ushering both of her children out to the car. She hadn't heard Bobby at all. Secondly, she had once again taken to staring in disbelief at herself, this time in the bedroom mirror atop the dresser. In desperation she bit her arm twice, just to make sure she really wasn't dreaming... Thirdly, she had begun to try and get dressed. This third undergoing, was just simply not going either—period. In any case, it wasn't producing any results, other than a building pile of clothes.

Several dresser drawers were pulled out of their home only to fall onto the ground. At first Mary had been calm, but after five minutes of simply trying to find some way to open them without fingers she had... Lost her temper. She now struggled to try and replace one drawer into its receptacle.

That's it, I give up. She just couldn't maneuver or manipulate the drawer sufficiently. It rejoined its two brothers, which were leaning against the furniture. Still scowling, she retook up the search for wearable clothing over her slimming options. A bra wouldn't be of any use anymore in her current state, she wasn't sure how she felt about that. The pain of the unbidden change, which was a match to all of the others, was certainly there, however. Thus far it seemed as though pants would be an impossibility as well. She searched through her clothes, one hoof stirring the unfolded options over one another. Trying to find more than a handful of articles that may yet fit her was seeming more and more unlikely.

Mary held up one pair of pants over her foreleg. The jeans did not seem likely candidates at all... She was... Or had been, a slim figure. That of course left little wiggling room in them. After a few fruitless struggles to test if they were viable, she gave up the wrestling match with her own pants in defeat. A steady anger gilded in frustration was already building within her.

...How am I even going to get anything on? I can't grip anything, let alone the clothes I'm trying to fit into.

Her eyes shifted slowly towards another daunting piece of cloth in her new found reticence to even get dressed. The mountain that was pants she decided, would be climbed when she got to it. The true first bluff still loomed before her, and that bluff was underwear. She let the pants fall onto the building pile of clothing and stared flatly at the pair she had set aside.

This is so embarrassing, I'm so fu- very glad, that Stan isn't here to see this. Eying the bottoms uncertainly, Mary shut her eyes and muttered a prayer. After a moment, she gave getting dressed her best effort. She decided to put the underwear on from the safety of lying on the floor, and an obstacle very quickly presented itself. That obstacle was brightly colored, like the hair on her head, and nearly as long.

From where she sat on the floor, Mary's gaze locked with the strange new limb that cascaded over the varnished wood beside her. The brightly colored strands twitched slightly at her command.

Mary sniffled, then coughed, emotion washing over without warning. Her eyes watered up as she tried to look away from tail, which was more difficult than she thought it should have been. She scrubbed at one eye gently with a leg. Come on Mary, keep it together. It's just... It's just a tail.

After a deep breath, Mary reached down and tried to pull the bottom up, hooves hooked on their inside. I mean it could be worse, what if you had cancer? Oh God, what if I have cancer? The disturbing thought was admittedly a lot less impossible than what she now faced, even if there wasn't anything suggesting as much. But there was nothing to ever suggest you would wake up looking like this either, now was there? She shook her head and proceeded, ignoring the useless, morbid thought.

She rolled over in the middle of lifting them up her legs to get them all the way on. Doing so squashed her face against the floor. In response to the acrobatics she growled irritably. The lingerie made it on, although, they also pressed against the tail. I won't ever consider it 'mine'. I won't! And, it was in an uncomfortable fashion to boot.

"This isn't going to work! Augh, but I am not walking around nude, I'm not an animal!" Her reflection passed in front of her mind's eye. "I'm not." She tugged downwards harshly on the wavy tail with her two hooves, pulling it straight. It was more than a little uncomfortable alright, but she didn't care. "You can beat this thing Mary, just stick with it." She stood up on all fours, something she really detested, and regarded her butt for a moment. This is hopeless. Her head hung in defeat, the sight of the undergarment on her was simply ridiculous.

For a while she just sat on her hindquarters and swished the affronting tail behind herself, watching it. It felt strong, she thought. Certainly strong enough to keep my pride from ever recovering. She cringed away from it as best she could.

After the brief mourning of her dignity, Mary plodded over to the other two articles she had set aside from the piles. It had taken quite some searching to come up with anything, she primarily owned work and formal attire. Neither of which were compatible with her at present. Obviously, the jeans weren't an option. They were too long and too tight in parts. A large pair of gym shorts, which she saved for playing games in the summer, seemed to be her best bet. Over those, lay a large itchy sweater. They were an ugly match, to be sure. And all the more reason they're absolutely perfect on me right now... Hah. She couldn't help but ruefully smirk at the self deprecating thought.

Wearily, Mary left the bedroom, she couldn't help but feel nervous without the sturdy lock separating her from the rest of the home, vacant at the moment as it was. I need to... I need to do something, though. I can't just hide in my room, can I? No... I need to do something, anything! Maybe there's someone out there that can help. I don't care who. Briefly, she glanced down at what had once been her two slim arms, now they carried her weight along the ground as any other pair of legs would. I hate walking like this. The last thought was simple, but carried a great deal of hate.

Mary trod past the shower on her way to Stan's computer, which caused her scowl from looking at the strange legs to deepen. It would have been nice to have remembered to take one, Mary... She abruptly sighed. Then again, no way I'm getting dressed a second time... The thought that she may have to get dressed again in such a manner the next day was thrown aside the moment it revealed itself. Along with the oddity in the equation of having hooves or fur in the shower...

The evil and demonic computer chair rolled back on the hard wood floor a few inches to make room for her to take a seat. Or try to. She frowned confusedly at the now daunting and wobbly seeming furniture, which was no doubt unstable and poorly made as well. The once simple act was now quite the challenge.

"How exactly am I supposed to sit!? I jus- Come on... Isn't anything simple anymore?" The house remained silent, and Mary unanswered. The chair didn't move. She let out a tired breath. Turning around, she took a couple steps back and tried to sit normally. It wasn't a very tall office chair, her rear reached up past the seat itself at least, just barely.

I'm pretty dam- dang small for a horse, she suddenly pondered. The line of thought wasn't pursued or continued though.

Irritatingly, the chair rolled away on the hard wood floor from her first attempt to be seated. She whirled around and glared at the renegade opponent. After a couple more breaths, this time to keep her calm, one hoof hooked the armrest and she pulled it back towards the desk. Walking on three of her legs was almost as difficult as walking on two.

I can't believe it, I'm going to have to learn how to walk again. It was a terrifying thought, having to learn something as simple as how to walk again—made more so by the fact she had done it earlier almost without thinking. And a chair is actually causing me grief! That thought was less terrifying, but equal in its own annoying fashion.

Mary licked her lips to concentrate, and to prevent herself from swearing. I need to remember to stop that... I can't even shave to get rid of the stupid feeling. Keeping her eyes locked on the sneaky wheeled thing and leaving the awkward thoughts behind, she tried again.

It squeaked away from her second attempt to hop herself into the seat as well. "For f-... Just, stop!" Catching her slip she looked after it sadly. I'm going to have to relearn how to do everything!

After stamping one hoof, she approached the chair again and this time pushed it up against the desk itself. Repeating her previous maneuver on the now stationary chair, she was able to get her rear up and seated. Success!.. Kind of... Her brow furrowed in thought as to how she could proceed, and hopefully with more dignity than what she previously had.

At the moment, she was only half in the chair, the rest of her was still stuck on the ground. Her forelegs held up her front. Now, the difficulty was turning the office chair around, and then getting it in front of the computer. Not to mention sitting up...

Without trying to put the rest of herself into the chair, Mary used her front hooves to pull the wheeled contraption around and up to the desk. This is so degrading, what did I do to deserve this? Am I such a terrible parent I deserved punishment? Am I a bad person? After placing it correctly, she grunted and struggled herself upright into the chair. She let out a sigh of relief, and looked at her awkward positioning.

Her legs dangled off the end. They reached the floor, but they seemed to want to hang and float off of the ground, instead of resting like a person's should. She ignored it though.

Thunking loudly, her hooves hooked under the desk and pulled herself closer to the keyboard. With a careful motioning of her leg, she tried to move the mouse. It did so at her command, and more easily than she'd thought it would. She wasn't an expert on horses or anything, which is what she had guessed she kind of was, but her hooves didn't seem to be anything like theirs. The clicker selected the little Mozilla Firefox icon.

"Huh, well would you look at that." Next, she decided sternly, the keyboard...