//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: School of Hard Knocks // by Hoopy McGee //------------------------------// “And that’s more or less what happened,” I said. Soothing Voice peered at me over the top of the notepad he was holding in his forehooves. His horn glowed as he set his quill aside before pressing his hooves together and regarding me for a long and silent moment. “That’s quite a story, Cinnamon,” he said eventually. “That’s the truth,” I replied with a snort. “And your mother… Almond, was it? Did she stay in therapy?” “For almost a year, now,” I said, nodding. “How are things at home?” “Better,” I said. Then I grimaced, adding, “Well, usually. She’s digging up a lot of pain. She has her good days and her bad days.” Soothing Voice nodded while making another note on his notepad. “So, things are getting better, generally speaking. That’s good.” Another long stare came my way from the therapist before he said, “I’ll be frank, Mister Swirl, I’m having a hard time believing most of this story.” “You don’t say,” I replied flatly. “Yes. I mean, some weird plant turning you into a filly? I know there’s some weird magic out there, but—” “Hold on,” I said, holding up a hoof. I grunted as I heaved myself off of the couch I’d been laying on for the last forty minutes or so before walking over to where my saddlebags were hung up on the wall. It only took me a moment to find my battered thermos, which I placed on the floor. While I was at it, I also pulled out a small spray bottle, which I put next down next to my thermos. “What’s that?” Soothing Voice asked me as I picked the thermos back up. “Zecora, the zebra I told you about, sent me a special concoction. Apparently, she recently discovered a potion that will let a pony who was once affected by poison joke experience the same results again almost instantly.” “You’re saying that potion will turn you into a filly,” the therapist said, his voice flat with disbelief. “Since I was changed into a filly before, yeah,” I said while screwing off the top of the thermos. I held it out to him with a wicked smile on my face. “Want to give it a try?” “No, thanks,” the therapist said. “A good thing, because I have no idea what it would do to you,” I said. “Anyway, I’ll need to go get the cure later on, but that’s not a problem these days.” That was especially true since I took over the gardening at home. Every plant needed for the cure was, by absolutely no coincidence, now growing in great abundance in our flower beds. Soothing Voice had a mirror in his office attached to the back of his door, either because he was a little bit vain or because it served some weird therapy purpose. I took one last look at myself before taking the potion. When I had first changed back to a stallion, the fact that I had kept the new police shield cutie mark had been something of a surprise. The grey-blue shield still looked odd to me, forming a striking contrast to my rust-colored coat and black tail. I had always considered myself to be an ugly stallion. After my jaunt into fillyhood, I found myself not caring so much about that anymore. Yeah, my ears were a bit on the large side, my teeth were a little crooked and my muzzle was too blunt to be considered handsome, but I was fit and healthy, broad across the barrel and well-muscled. Not only that, but it was amazing what a decent manecut could do to improve a stallion’s looks. I grinned at my reflection and said goodbye to my stallionhood once again as I took just the barest sip of the poison joke potion in the thermos, grimacing as it ran over my tongue. It had an earthy taste, meaning that it tasted almost exactly like dirt. A familiar warmth in my belly began to spread out to the rest of my body while I hurriedly screwed the cap back onto the thermos. I didn’t have a whole ton of the poison joke potion, and I didn’t want to spill any. “So, you wanna see something cool, Doc?” I said with a grin. “Watch this!” “I told you, I’m a therapist but not a doc— oh, my sweet stars!” My grin only grew at the look on his face. My head swirled with vertigo as the walls of the room shot up around me, and the floor was suddenly much, much closer to me. “So, whaddaya think?” I asked once the change was complete. “Ohh, aaaah…. Um.” Soothing Voice shook his head. “Your voice didn’t change,” he said weakly. “Yeah,” I said with a grimace. “That’s part of the ‘joke’, I guess. I keep the same voice. After a day or two, it’ll change into a filly’s voice. No idea why. Or I could just use this stuff, also from Zecora.” I picked up the spray bottle, aimed it towards my open mouth, and spritzed the bitter-tasting contents into my throat. After a grimace, I smacked my lips and cleared my throat. “Testing,” I said, my voice already starting to rise in pitch. “Testing, one, two… ah, there we go. Perfect little filly voice, courtesy of zebra alchemy.” We stared at each other for a minute or two before I scowled up at him. “Hey, I paid for a full hour, so let’s not waste it. Alright?” “What? Oh, right.” He shook himself. “So. From this, I guess I can believe your story. So, what were you hoping to get from our sessions? Clearly you don’t have issues with your masculinity if you’re willing to just change like that to make a point.” I offered up a wry smile. “Being changed back and forth like this really makes you realize that identity comes from inside, not outside.” I must have triggered something there, because the therapist rallied at that. “But what’s outside influences what’s inside,” Soothing Voice said, losing some of the fogginess from his voice now that he was back on familiar ground. “Our bodies help inform our self-image.” “True. But what’s in the heart doesn’t have to change just because the body does.” I rolled my eyes at his skeptical look. “Trust me on this, Doc.” “I’m not a doctor, I don’t have a doctorate,” he pointed out once again. “I have a masters in psychology and sociology, that’s all.” “I know, but it’s fun to call you ‘Doc’, Doc,” I said with a grin. He stared back at me for a few seconds. “Look, I’m having a hard time with this. Could you change back?” “Not without taking a bath in the cure,” I said. “I’m stuck like this for the rest of the session. Sorry if it bugs you.” “I guess I can deal with it.” Soothing Voice raised a shaky hoof to massage his temple. “But you never answered my question. What was your goal with these sessions?” I grimaced. “This wasn’t my idea. My mom pulled a massive guilt trip on me,” I said. I clambered back up onto the couch and laid back down. “She finally told me she didn’t want me to stay as a filly nearly three weeks ago, but she wanted me to go to therapy too.” “And, why did she suggest that?” “Apparently I have ‘anger issues’,” I said with a snort as I drew the air-quotes with my hooves. “Anyway, she made me promise to at least give it a try. So, here I am.” “Well, I can help with that, but only if you’re here willingly,” Soothing Voice said with a small frown. “I can’t help you if you don’t meet me halfway.” I shook my head at that. “You don’t know me, Doc,” I said, grinning a little when he flinched at the title. “When I make a promise, I do everything I can to keep it. It’s the way I am. I’m in this for real, for at least five sessions. If it seems to work, I’ll keep coming back.” “Right.” He grimaced and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m just… I guess I have to accept that what you told me is true. It’s just a little unbelievable, is all.” “I know. And I haven’t even told you everything,” I said. “I left a lot of details out.” “Oh, really?” Like my involvement in the Mister Sunshine case, something I wasn’t about to bring up without an okay from Captain Iron Bear. He’d taken great pains to keep my name out of the papers, and I wasn’t going to spill the beans to somepony I’d just met, patient confidentiality or no. “Yeah. Had to make sure it all fit in under an hour, after all. Besides, I haven’t even started on what the last year has been like.” I chuckled wryly. “You think what I told you today is hard to believe, then you’ll never believe what happened over the summer.” “What do you mean?” the therapist asked. “What happened this summer?” I failed to repress a shudder as I thought back over the events that had started a few weeks after school had let out. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I replied. “Besides, I don’t think we have time to cover it all.” After a glance at the nearby clock, he nodded. “Yes, it looks like our time is almost up, Cinnamon. Do you want to schedule another appointment? I have next week at this same time open, if that works.” I mentally reviewed my schedule with the Hoofington PD for a moment before nodding. “That’s fine. I’m on the evening shift that day.” “Doesn’t it make it harder to be a police officer if you’re a filly?” Soothing Voice asked. “I’ll have changed back by then,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Hey, can you help me with my bags? They’re a little big for me, now.” “What? Oh! Sure, of course.” Soothing’s horn lit up and lifted the bags off of their hook, helping to cinch the strap tight around my barrel. The strap was long enough to wrap around me almost five times, now. “Hmm… your cutie mark is gone,” he noted. “It’ll come back once I take the cure,” I said. “That poison joke potion restores me to exactly the way I was when I was first changed, and it turned me into a blank flank that first time.” I noticed that he hadn’t mentioned the ribbon that had magically appeared in my mane, which was once again long and braided. I had no idea where that came from, but I’d decided to just accept it as another example of the general weirdness that surrounded that damned plant. “Well, I guess I’ll see you in a week,” I said, once the bags were in place. “Alright,” Soothing Voice said. “You take care, er, Mister Swirl.” I grinned back at him, waved at the confused receptionist in the waiting area, and trotted outside into the crisp fall air. It was hard for me to believe that it had been over a year since I’d first been dragged back into town. So much had changed, not the least of which was me. I couldn’t help a smile when my house came into view. The fence had been straightened out, and the fresh white paint gleamed in the sun. The trim on the house had been repainted a dark green, a nice compliment to the rest of the house’s new coat of light brown. The yard was full of thick, lush grass and carefully maintained flower gardens. The new gate in our fence swung open easily and silently as I made my way to the front door. As I entered my house, my smile faltered slightly. Not everything that needed changing had changed, yet. The house was still cluttered with boxes and debris, though only about half of what had been here before. It was painful for Mom, having to give up the things she’d bought or collected over the years since Dad and Strawberry had died. Still, she was making progress, and at least the house didn’t smell quite as much of dust and mildew. I found my mom in her sewing room. Her face was fixed in a stern scowl as she concentrated on the fabric in front of her, a dress she was repairing for one of the other mares in her support group. When I cleared my throat to get her attention, she jumped slightly before looking over at me. “Heya,” I said. Mom goggled at me for a few seconds before rolling her eyes. “I see you changed back again,” she said archly. “I’m starting to wonder if you actually might prefer being this way.” “Hey, now,” I said, my brow knitting as I scowled at her. “I’m only like this right now because my therapist needed proof.” “Oh, I see. I guess that makes sense. You going to change back before dinner?” “Nah,” I said, waving a hoof. “I figured I’d go over and surprise Plum. She really likes being so much taller than me.” Which was another side effect of the poison joke potion. Plum had kept on growing this whole last year, and my filly body had grown as well. But then I had finally cured myself, turning back into a stallion. When I took the potion to turn back into a filly, I had lost that year of growth, reverting to how I was back when all of this started. “Well, dinner will be ready in about two hours,” Mom said, returning her attention to the dress on the table in front of her. “And I’ve got a pie baking, so make sure you’re not late.” “Right,” I said. “See ya later, then.” Mom waved a hoof vaguely in my direction. I stopped by my room, which was now thoroughly de-frilled, in order to take off my saddlebags. There was no need to carry them around with me. And, besides, adult-sized bags looked ridiculous on me while I was changed. When I reached the Pudding residence, I was greeted at the door by Mulberry. This wasn’t the first time since I’d initially changed back that she’d seen me as a filly, though this was the first time that Plum hadn’t begged me into it. “Plum is upstairs, doing her homework,” Mulberry said before I had a chance to ask. “Thanks,” I said, making my way towards the stairway. “Oh, Cinnamon? Are you and Persimmon still meeting us for dinner this weekend?” I nodded. The teacher and I had been officially dating for over two weeks, now. I’d asked her out as soon as I’d turned back into a stallion. The fact that she’d said yes was still the most amazing thing that had ever happened to me, poison joke included. “She said she wanted to. I’ll make sure to remind her when I see her tomorrow,” I said. “Thanks!” I nodded and went on upstairs, knocking when I reached Plum’s door. “Come in!” the filly called. “Hey, Plum,” I said as I went inside. “Cinnamon!” Plum hopped down from her stool and ran over to hug me. I hugged back. “You changed into a filly again!” “I had to,” I replied dryly. “A certain therapist decided he didn’t believe me when I told him about it.” “Oh, that was today?” Plum glanced at her wall calendar, flinched, and then looked back at me. “Sorry, I forgot all about it. We’ve got a big test tomorrow, and I’ve been studying for it all week.” “No big deal, Plum. Am I interrupting your studying?” I asked, guilt welling up. “I can come back later.” Plum snorted. “Nah, I’m going cross-eyed with my nose in this book. I think I can afford to take a break.” “Right,” I said. As Plum packed away her papers and books, I couldn’t help but notice how much she’d changed. Physically, at least, though she was still the same light-hearted filly I’d met last year. It was much more obvious now that I was close to being on the same scale as her. She’d gained a few extra inches of height, and she’d lost some of the foal pudge she had when I first met her. She was on the verge of exploding into that gawky awkward stage that colts and fillies hit when they reach puberty, though she wasn’t quite there yet. On her hips, her new cutie mark shone out like a beacon. I’d been right to assume her mark would be bird-themed. Two golden-yellow birds viewed from above were facing each other with their wingtips touching, forming a rough circle. She’d gotten the mark in the early spring, when she’d found an injured bird returning from the south. Plum had spent two weeks painstakingly nursing the bird back to health, and when it had finally flown off, she’d been too happy watching it fly to notice that she’d gained her mark. I was fortunate enough to be there to see it happen. “So, what do you want to do?” Plum asked, breaking me out of my reverie. I thought about it for a little while before shrugging. “Plum, I’m in your hooves. Whatever you want to do is fine with me.” Plum’s eyes glinting were all the warning I needed. “Whatever I want? You promise?” “No makeup,” I said firmly, recalling Plum’s latest obsession. It’s funny how gaining a cutie mark can change a filly. “Aww…” I grinned at her. “How about we just go play in the park?” “Sure, sounds fun,” she said. A few minutes later, and we were heading out the door. Plum promised her mother that she’d be back for dinner and we waved goodbye to Tapioca, who was sitting in the living room reading a paper. As Plum closed the door, I looked around the street with a proprietary sense of satisfaction. This was Hoofington. This was my town and my home. And, as I ran after Plum towards the park in order to play some childish games before dinner, I realized that there was nowhere in the world that I would rather be.