//------------------------------// // Equestria After Dark // Story: My Little Changeling -- "I" is Magic // by Wing Dancer //------------------------------// Chip did all he could to suppress his jitters as he left the grounds of Canterlot Castle. It was starting to dawn when the changeling finally let his captain explain in further detail which hospital he should visit and where the cafe was. He got a small saddle with some bits to last him the three days, along with a warning to not spend it all in one place. Much to Chip’s disappointment, Shining Armor didn’t want to consider it a loan like in a bank, argumenting that finding a notary at this hour would be very hard. Out in the open, everything looked vastly different than on the massive map. The changeling was simply overwhelmed by the variety of residual scents, both emotional and regular. To his keen senses, the streets of Canterlot looked like a dim, rainbow colored fog, the ponies swimming in it effortlessly. Everywhere he looked there were ponies wearing different costumes, going about their business. Each one was an individual with their own story, family, life. It blew Chip’s mind to realise just how many there were. This place was a lot larger than Ponyville naturally, and the possibilities to learn and observe were tremendous. “But where to start, where to start?!” chirped the excited changeling. He danced on his hooves like a little filly, pirouetting around in wonder. “Should I just walk up to a ponies and ask him how they were? Maybe I could invite someone over for a drink? Was it appropriate to actually just walk up to someone and start talking?” The ponies that passed by close enough to hear his mumbling gave him uncertain stares, trotting away slightly faster than they normally would. The changeling simply smiled at anypony who spared him even a glance. With his current skin on, it did look somewhat disconcerting. “This is a whole new world,” muttered the awe-struck Chip, dreading having only one pair of eyes and ears to take everything in. He was really curious of all the shops and stalls that were slowly closing for the night. Trinkets of all sorts that he never saw before glittered and called out to him from behind wide window displays, objects both mundane and exquisite equally precious in his eyes. He wanted to just pick everything up and stash it in a cave to play with and study later. “For once, it’s too bad that ponies aren’t like changelings. I’d just take it all and mark it as my own,” he mused, pressing the side of his face against the cool glass to eye the wide selection of brooms and dusters he was oogling. “Still, buying something seems like a fun thing to do. A pony gets these metal coins that they can then use to get something else. Much better than fighting for food or-wow!” Chip’s face immediately glued itself to another window, this time of a book shop. His tail frantically swept left and right, hitting a passing-by mare in the face. “Hey! Watch it, clutz!” she growled at him, swatting at him in her stride. The shapeshifter whipped his head around. A pony just initiated a conversation with him! As calmly as he could, which is to say ‘in the manner of a foal on a double black coffee‘, he trotted over to the surprised pony and gave her a winning smile. “Hi there! I’m Redberry! You must have mistaken me with someone, I don’t know anypony by the name of Clutz. H-How are you this fine evening?” * * * With the widest grin imaginable, the changeling strolled down the busy Canterlot road, caressing his red and sore cheek. Apparently the mare didn’t appreciate a pony she didn’t know striking up a conversation. Her first reaction was to growl something at him and pick up her pace. Chip’s mistake was trying to catch up to her and ask for her name. Despite her small frame, she packed quite a punch, making him sway and lose focus for a second. Before he could shake it off, she was gone, and a few elder ponies were staring at him in disapproval. Luna’s moon caught the changeling by surprise. He had so much fun just walking about and looking at everything and everyone he didn’t feel the time pass. Despite the late hour, there were still a few open shops and ponies moving about, a new variety of smells added to the fray. Some of them made him nauseous, reminding him faintly of the cider and subsequent hangover incident. “Hey there baby.” The voice was definitely female, coming from his left side. Chip assumed that the lady was talking to someone else, when he heard it again behind his back: “Looking for some fun times?” The changeling turned his head around carefully, weary of any hooves that might come crashing towards his face. To his surprise, there was indeed a mare by his side now, a beige coated pegasus with half-lidded blue eyes and a short, scruffy sandy mane. What was more interesting was the fact that she was addressing him, one of her wings slightly unfolded, the prime feather lightly sliding against his side. It felt kind of nice. “Fun?” mused Chip, smiling happily at the pony. “Sure! I’m Redberry,” he introduced himself, stretching out a hoof. “I’m Sweet Strokes,” she replied, giggling in surprise as the stallion eagerly shook her leg. “Do you live somewhere nearby?” “Uh, no, not really. In fact, it’s on the other side of town,” said Chip, remembering the city’s layout. His ears drooped slightly, worry on his face. “Is that bad? Am I not supposed to be here?” “Oh, don’t worry, honey,” she purred, her wing now gliding along his back. “There’s a place nearby that offers some privacy. That is, if you have the bits...” “I have lots of bits!” piped up Chip, enjoying the gentle caressing. He jingled his saddles for emphasis, pleased to see the mare smile a bit wider. “What will we be doing?” he asked as he followed the pony, noting a slight wobble in her stride, her flanks and tail swaying from side to side. “Oh, trust me darling, we’ll be doing all the things,” she purred, turning around to give him another half-lidded look. Chip was beginning to suspect that she had at least a slight problem with her eyesight and legs, but before he could ask about it they stopped in front of a pretty tall building. The neon lights above the entrance spelled out the word “HOSTEL” flashing erratically. “In you go, sweetie,” said the mare, nudging him into the dimly lit interior. The place looked kind of rough, with the wallpaper being torn slightly here and there. Other than a few couches and a potted plant, it was nowhere near as enticing as the many shops that Chip passed on his way. A bored looking pony spared him a glance, smirking at Sweet Strokes as she came closer. “Got another customer, Sweet?” he said in a gruff voice, lifting himself and trotting over to a set of keys. “You sure are a busy gal.” “I try hard,” she replied with a sigh, beckoning Chip over. “The usual price for a room is twenty five bits. Add to that, say...” she looked him over carefully, craning her head to look underneath him, a mysterious smirk gracing her lips briefly. “Thirty-five?” she tried, cocking her head to the side, exposing her silky neck. “Oh! I’m buying something?” gasped the changeling. The confused look on the mare’s face made him grunt awkwardly, wordlessly opening the bag and grabbing a bunch of bits. He threw them on the counter, nonchalantly strutting away. “Keep the change,” he said in a raised tone, climbing the staircase to the upper levels. “He does know he’s five bits short, right? What is he, not right in the head or something?” snapped the receptionist, hoofing the key to Sweet. “You go up there and get that money for me, will ya?” “Don’t worry, I will. Sorry about that. Yeah, he is kind of weird. In a funny way,” giggled the mare, slowly moving away, making it a point to sway her hips at the hungrily staring stallion. “And he has a really nice body.” * * * Sweet Strokes found her client at the top floor, leaning over a balcony. For a second her heart sank - all she needed now was a suicider and the guards breathing down her back. Her life was tough as it was, having to deal with all sorts of ponies that crawled out of their gutters in this ‘prim and proper’ city after dark. “D-Darling. Whatever it is, it’s not worth it,” tried the mare, gingerly tip-toing towards the stallion. “Huh?” he replied, whipping his head around. He had the most ridiculous grin plastered across his face. “What isn’t worth it? The thing that I bought? Dang, I forgot to pick it up!” Confusion threatened to knock the legs from under her. Was this pony truly mad? “Sweetie, you bought a room, remember? And a fun night?” she said, regaining her composure and approaching the stallion slowly, making sure he sees every single curve she had to offer. Weirdly enough, she did not see the spark that would have ignited by now in any other stallion. Who was this pony? “Oh, yeah, right. Sorry!” apologised Chip, shuffling on his hooves. “I’m kind of confused. M-My dad is in the hospital and I had to take leave from Royal Guard bootcamp to see him. He isn’t feeling well.” Again, Sweet Strokes’ legs almost gave in at the confession. He was a guard trainee, and here she was offering lewd services to him. He was going through a tough time, and yet he eagerly, with a wide smile hired her. “So, where to?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “Will we play some games?” Sweet shook her head. Whatever it was, she didn’t care. It didn’t matter. He was a client, a pony with gold bits that she needed to put food in her stomach and a roof over her head. Weirdo or not, she’d service him like any other, provided his insanity didn’t hurt her. “This way, honey. Sorry about your dad,” she offered, leading him down the stairs. “I’ll make you feel better, I promise.” They both stopped in front of an unremarkable room. The mare opened the door and went on ahead, entering the brightly lit interior. It was representative of the rest of the building - tidy but showing its age through a worn carpet, some minor tears in the wallpaper and deflated pillows on the double bed. Sweet climbed onto the bed and lay on her side, covering most of her body with a wing. “I take payment up front, loverboy. And this time, please count your change. You still owe the gentlecolt at the desk five bits.” “Oh. Sorry!” yelped Chip, rushing out of the room, leaving the doors wide open. “What…?” Sweet was simply dumbfounded. Did he bail on her? She couldn’t even muster the resolve to pick herself up - her shock and confusion was content with letting her lie in the comfortable bed, a slight improvement to her hard mattress at home. Before long, she heard hoofsteps, the red stallion appearing in the doorframe with a beaming smile on his face. “It’s okay now. He wasn’t mad or anything. Sorry about the trouble.” With a hind leg, he closed the door and sat down on the floor. “So. What fun are we talking about?” Sweet Strokes had to gather the reserves of her resolve to pull together and get in the mood. “Pay up first, darling,” she said, patting the night-stand next to her. “Just make sure you count this time, okay?” She couldn’t help but smile as the stallion plopped down next to her, reaching into the saddle and retrieving a small bunch of coins, counting it out loud and setting aside to make room for the next hoof-full. It would be irritating to her if, for some reason, his concentrated muzzle and stuck out tongue didn’t look...endearing. He acted like a foal who was doing something really serious, grown-up things that every child dreamed about. “Darling, uh, you can stop counting now,” she said, lightly tapping him on the shoulder as he kept going way past thirty-five. “Oh, uh, okay,” shrugged the stallion. “I just heard that it’s good manners to leave a tip for the trouble. I didn’t offend you, right?” “Tip?” she mouthed. “You’re an odd one, darling. But I won’t complain.” She smiled and loosened up a little, slowly raising her wing and patting the space next to her on the bed. “I’ll earn my tip, promise. Now, lie down. Let Sweet Strokes take care of you...” * * * She started off pretty routinely - she kneaded at his wide back, the firm muscles loosening up against her hooves. The stallion purred like a kitten, turning to putty under her expert touch. She whispered sweet nothings to him, complimenting him on his strong body, healthy mane and bushy tail. To her surprise though, the customer seemed really chatty and replied a lot. “You have really nice hooves. This feels so good,” he murred, his hind leg twitching. His tail was wagging in a slow rhythm and Sweet Strokes couldn’t help but giggle. Most of her clients didn’t talk much, and to be honest, this was the first compliment she got before she was done. “Are you a massagist?” “Somewhat,” she replied, drawing small circles under his ears, feeling the low rumble of pleasure the stallion gave. “I had a course or two.” “Would you teach me?” he chirped, making her pause for a second. “I mean, if that’s okay.” Sweet started suspecting that the stallion was indeed clueless about what was going to happen. Or pulling her leg really hard. He seemed way too innocent and lost to be true. Determined, she wanted to give it one last try. She lowered her muzzle, blowing hot air over his ear. “Wouldn’t you rather have me buck your brains out, stud?” she whispered in a sultry voice. “B-But I need it!” groaned back the stallion, covering his head with his forehooves. And so it was settled. Fate brought her, a veteran of a hundred beds, a handsome stallion with the mind and innocence of a foal. At that point, she could do two things. She could get away with just a massage and excuse, swiping the cash and making a run for it, or follow through and introduce the colt to the wonders of intimacy. She did not anticipate a third option though - one that was made for her. The stallion turned around, looking her deep in the eyes. It was a gaze she was unaccustomed to - there was no lust, not even a spark of desire. It was a stare you gave to a friend, one where you could say the eyes were smiling and the person was happy to see you. “Mind if I try for a while? It’s only fair I return the favor.” He said, giddily rubbing his hooves together. Sweet didn’t understand what was happening. Slowly, she turned around, her wings tightly shut to her sides. She half-expected a ruse - a surprise attack that would let her sink back into the well-known scenario of her current trade. She flinched slightly as a pair of hooves touched at her back, sliding down her spine and stopping short of her rump. The touch was delicate, uncertain. It felt nice, heavenly even, considering how her other clients tended to step all over her shoulders. “You can press a bit harder. Massage is about working the muscle into relaxing,” she heard her voice say. Was she really telling this stallion how to massage? “L-Like this?” she heard, arching her back slightly as her customer pushed against her a bit more firmly, driving his hooves up her body. “Mmmmhm,” she murred, the unfamiliar sensation sending chills down her spine. She felt her wings relax slightly, limping down over her barrel. “You need to massage along the fibres. Each muscle has a certain direction you need to-mfff,” she sighed, feeling his strong legs travel down hers. “This is fun,” said the stallion. “Would it be okay if I asked how your day was?” * * * The sun was nearing the apex of it’s journey when Sweet Strokes finally stretched herself and rolled over on the bed. The stallion was sleeping right next to her, his wide back towards her. She watched as his breath gently rocked his side. The night she just had was unique. It was a one in a lifetime experience, something that ponies could read about in fairy tales. Granted, she did have clients who were sensual, even caring during her work, but it all boiled down to providing the client with what he wanted. She never even imagined that a stallion who cared about her would even exist. With this Redberry, she was confused. He stirred to life emotions she thought she had lost. Not only did he spend half the night massaging her body, wings included, he was also genuinely interested in her life story. He wasn’t trying to be nice or getting something out of it - he listened intently, gasping at the right moments and asking questions whenever something piqued his curiosity. She felt appreciated. For the first night in a long time, she didn’t feel like a doll, she wasn’t repulsed by sharing a bed with a stallion. In fact, as much as she tried to suppress the feeling and tell herself she shouldn’t allow it, she became attached. “What did you do to me?” she whispered, tracing a hoof from the tip of his ear to a shoulder. “Am I really that pitiful to jump at the first guy who offers me a little warmth? Did you take pity over me, or did you really see a mare in me? What is your angle, Redberry?” “I think we are parallel to each other now. Two lines that do not cross can’t have an angle between them,” mumbled the stallion, slowly turning around. His eyes were struggling to open. Sweet burst out with laughter, startling Chip. Whatever it was he said, it made her really happy - the emotions that floated around her were now mostly positive, a great improvement over the resignation and hollowness he felt before. He could probably safely call her a friend now, adding another mood improving technique to his repertoire. “You’re too good to be true...Redberry,” giggled the mare, hugging his head and brushing her cheek against it. As much as she didn’t want it, she had no choice but to accept her feelings. For now, she could simply enjoy them.