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// A Pink Prologue: 1 
// Story: A Pink Back Door 
// by Ponyess 
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    I like mail, and I do get a fair share of it.  Maybe I do my part in trade, having pen-pals, ordering stuff by the mail and having a few friends who live far away from time to time on business as they call it.  It all mounted to me never really getting all that surprised if and when strange things came in the mail.



The one thing being off with what I got this time is not what the small package does look like, even if the contents were a bit out of the norm, even for me.  Getting packages and letters, aside from the occasional post-cards is common-place to me.  I work hard to maintain the practice.  Responding to the pen-pals and paying the bills when I order in.  Not that I mind too much, I do enjoy having my mailbox filled up, even if not stuffed.

The strange thing is when the package came in.  this certainly isn’t the standard time for the mail to come, even for me.  besides, they never came this late, maybe they liked to see me happy.  Who am I to say?  Who am I to complain?



Upon reading the address from which it came, I learn that a Diana Pie had sent it to me, apparently.  Can’t recall any by the name Diana, and Pie doesn’t sound as much as a name as a dish to me.  Sadly, I never did make the connection, she had managed to disguise her true identity well, behind the middle name.  Not that I knew who she is.

What I found, once I had opened the package; tubes, pastries, lubes and an assortment of associated items.  Is this a joke, or was she seriously expecting me to use these items?

On the other hand, aside from the address on the outside of the package, there is nothing to indicate she expected me to pay her.  I could certainly not find anything I could identify as a bill, or any other hint towards expecting to be paid.  Not even a note; with or without message or numbers to any account where to send the expected funds.

Each item did have a label, indicating what they were and how they were intended to be used.  Most of which were merely small items moulded out of what appears to me clear, smooth and slippery rubber of some sort, elastic as I found it.

“If it had not been for the lack of company logo, this could be some kind of sample, intended for me to try out for myself!” I told myself, quietly, with a strange but highly expectant smile growing on my lips.



Of course the items does come with a manual, limited as it may be, explaining what the items are and how to use them, aside from the intended effects they were to have on the user and counterpart, in case one were to use them with another.



“Back Door!” I read, pondering exactly what that could mean.

“Maybe I could as well try it out for myself?  It isn’t as if I had anything better to do, right now!” I pondered as I carried the collection from the kitchen table and all the way into my bed room.

Once I had closed the door, I placed the package on my bed stand, pulling the cover off and glanced down into the box.  After rummaging for a moment I picked up one of these back doors, looking tentatively on it for a moment and decided on trying it on, or in this case, rather in.  It was after all intended to be fitted into my rear entrance, my rump.

As I had stepped out of my skirt and slipped my panties off of me, kicked them up and slipped them both into a neat pile, I tentatively slipped the clear rubber in as it had been intended.  It slipped in, just as easy as could have been expected, or ever hoped for.  Once inside it was a very tight fit.  It wouldn’t just slide out, before I actually pulled it out on purpose.

This is the surprise, shortly followed by the shock, even if I guess the manual had stated the effect quite clearly.  I just had not expected it.  How or why could I, or should I expect it?

What came next is the feel of clear and highly elastic rubber spreading out like a lube spill.  Only this was but the first part, before I noticed the true and deeper effect of using this one tube, or back door.  It isn’t just the effect of a rubbery tube inserted from behind, it is what the tube did to me, or made out of me.  I soon found myself in the form of an anthropomorphic Pony.  The Equestrian type; that is.  I guess that is at the heart of the shock.

Finding myself with these fancy, delicate hooves alone is one thing, but then I realised that my legs had changed proportions, making me look like that Pony.  The next discovery is in my hands, how my fingers changed as my nails turned into these cute miniature hooves.  I guess the clear, deep blue tail and how my hair changed into a matching mane was little surprise as it dawned upon me.  The adorable equine ears almost slipped my mind, short of the detail; I could follow sounds in a manner I had never been able to, considering that my ears could twist in the more equine manner.  Meanwhile, my vision widened considerably as well. Convenient and distracting, if you ask me.

As my skin turned into a light pink coat, I soon sprouted a mark, accordingly.  It is who I am.  No, I certainly am not Pinkie Pie, nor am I Rainbow dash or Trixie.  Maybe that is just as well.  Of course, how could I have become either of them?  I am an individual separate from them.  I am unique, as far as it is possible.  I have my own history and all these things.



What did not change is my still green eyes.  Maybe a regular green, for Human eyes, but they are part of who I am, even if I had become an anthropomorphic Pony of the Equestrian type.  I still like, everything I used to like.  Nothing truly changed about me and who I am, or was.

Looking back, I noticed that I had a pen and a letter as a Mark, I seem to be Pen Pall, now.  Should I be shocked or horrified?  Why?  It is still reflecting who I am.

Besides, once I pull the tube, or Back Door out of my rump, I will turn back into my old self.  Even considering the experience, the experiences the tube offered me.



My new name and identity may not exactly be a job, but it is an integral, none-exclusive part of who I am, who and what I had always been.  I guess it makes me special in a sense.



Question is just why I had chosen this particular tube.  Just as one may ask why it gave me the particular mark?  I don’t know, and quite frankly, I don’t really care.  As important as you may have seen it, it is now inconsequential to me.  It is who I am and what happened.  Why bother second guessing the past?  Even if it may be an idea to question yourself and your actions on occasion.  Like when you went down the wrong, dark back alley?  It isn’t what happened.  At least, I have no reason to think so right now.  Maybe tomorrow?



Since I am a mare, I still have all these delicate and delicious parts.  Just think I need to explore them in order to see exactly where they are and how much fun they are in my current form.

Using my right hand feels natural to me, I had always been the right handed girl, even if I am a mare right now.  Turning into a Pony wouldn’t change who I am, and that is one of these details.

The first thing I noticed and realised, is just how different my little hooves are, compared with my fingers the way they were as the girl.  Yet, I soon found my now generous, smooth mound just where I had expected it.  Then my equine orchid, strangely familiar, even after the changes.  Equestrian Ponies are apparently mammalians, just like the Human I had been as a girl.  With that I soon realised that my jigglies are a firm A cup, in the shape of a pair of Cup-Cakes, as opposed as the much rounder orbs my jigglies had been.  Maybe some guys wouldn’t consider them quite the hooters as my former B cup orbs had been.  Not something that bothered me, right now.  I am not for their entertainment or joy by any means.  Otherwise, my nibbles are roughly the same as they had been before.  I guess I could enjoy them just the same as I had before.



Thankfully, I am just as sensitive and excitable as I had been.  I could clearly sense my hoof as it touched the orchid.  Only now the excitement did not emanate from just this one small spot, it is the entire orchid, I learned.

Checking my nibbles, they are just as sensitive as they had been too.  The only difference is in the thing I stumbled across as I felt a surge, just before a slight squirt happened.  Not what I had expected, but I guess it could be fun.  I just had never been into it, if it was the lack of experience, but the idea had never bothered or repulsed me before, either.

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