//------------------------------// // Yar Har, Fiddily Dee // Story: Woundsalt, Mother Bucker. // by OneUppington //------------------------------// No, wait… Bi. I meant bi. If I was actually homosexual, I wouldn’t have gone all head over hooves when I first saw Octavia. Bisexual. I’m sorry, this is just hitting me hard. See, I’ve always been very vocal about how pro-sexual diversity I am. I think that’s been well and truly stated, especially since I got here. I mean sure, I freaked out about my orphanage founder’s confession to being… whatever the fuck she was, but only because her nymphomania coupled by her fetishes caught me incredibly off guard. Besides from that, however, look what I’ve been doing. I’m supporting Rainbow Dash with her first try at batting for the other team, I was more than willing to lend a hoof to Apple Jack when she wanted me to help her talk to her grandma about Parfait; Shit, if it did turn out after her stint with Onderlandwah that Apple Jack was quite literally Apple Jack I’d be there telling her family and friends how that is fine and dandy. I’m even willing to go see Pinkie Pie someday and talk to her about her homophobia and maybe find some way to pack that shit in. I know for a fact that I love ponies being whatever type of pony they want to be. But here’s the thing. As much as I love the ponies being whatever pony they want to be… I never thought I was one of those ponies. I thought what I thought I was is what I was, if that makes any sense. No experimentation needed. That I was just a straight-up straight stallion. Nothing special. So now, at this moment where I realise that isn’t the case… this is throwing me through a hoop a little. Especially since it’s now. Why now? Why not when I was in puberty? Why not all the times I see a hoof-holds from homosexual couples when they’re roaming around the orphanage? Why not the first time I got myself some Captain Swash Buckler; or any other time I sail with the Captain out of deadly seas of sobriety for that matter… with his smooth, silky mane blowing through the air… I smack myself in the face. Down, Woundsalt! This is not the time to fantasise over the pirate on the bottle! He’s probably not even a real pony! Even if he was, he wouldn’t respect you in the morning; he’s a fucking pirate! Ugh… I’m so bucking confused! Why now? Why him? And most importantly, why is this new homosexual side of me coming at me so damn strong? I can feel my heartbeat in my neck, I’m sweating like a pig and down there… Do you really want me to talk about down there? This is horny! There is no denying it! I don’t even think a cold blast of water is going to cut it! I might need to be in there for at least ten minutes! I need to talk to somepony about this. Maybe I’ll ask Vinyl when she comes back to me. She is what I think I’ve become, she should be a good pony to talk to about this. Wait, no. She’s at least an hour away and I’m not trusting myself to be left in this library with him. She found out she was bisexual thanks to Onderlandwah anyway, not like I’m… That’s it! Onderlandwah! I’ll talk to me about this. Inner me, I mean. He is all of me, right? If there is anyone who would know more about me is me. Can’t pretend I don’t need to check on Prin... sorry force of habit... Page Presser, anyway. I head on up and open the door. He isn’t there. There is, however, A note. I'm guessing he already woke up and ran off. Woundsalt, Thanks again for giving me a hit of this stuff. It definitely did the trick… though it was really weird. I held up this magical sword and said some magic words that made me muscular, Satchmo became some kind of giant green beast, you were a skeleton with a silly voice for some reason… but as weird as it was, I feel like it confirms what I was worried about for a while now. Hmm… okay. He said this has something to do about this Croissant filly… what is this confirmation? As I was going to tell you, yes this was to do for Croissant… but that’s a nickname of her’s. Or much rather, his. His? Croissant’s a stallion? Oh buck, he found his true sexuality before I did, didn’t he? Trust Printed Page to get his shit together before Woundsalt, the mother bucker! Ah well, all this proves is that me taking another hit of Zecora’s powder is the right thing to do. I might as well keep reading before I do, though. I kind of want to know this stallion’s name. Baguette is his real name. Croissant’s the name he gives himself while he’s in public. I believe in some circles he would be known as a fishy-drag, meaning a colt who makes himself look like a filly in such great detail, he’s able to fool ponies around him as one. He had me fooled, I give him that. Oh. Oh... Oh, buck! I just realised! What did that note in Page’s wallet say again? ‘Let me know if you want to walk on the wild side’? Walk on the Wild Side is a song by the late and great Velvet Reed where a bunch of transgenders dress up as fillies and fuck stallions! How the buck did I miss that? I love Velvet Reed! As you may have also guessed, Baguette came to me in his Croissant persona while I was on vacation in Prance. It was a fun time… although I have the feeling it wasn’t much of a holiday, what with everypony coming up to me. The book was released about a month beforehand, so naturally I wasn’t getting much privacy. They were bucking ruthless! ‘Can I have your autograph, Monsieur Page?’, ‘Can I have a photo with you, Monsieur Page?’, ‘Is Woundsalt with you, Monsieur Page?’; relentless. Bucking relentless. Croissant showed me a quiet cafe where nopony saw us.We were talking about a few things, like you, her work, how I felt when you had that interview with Satchel Mouth; that sort of thing. I was constantly buying her wine, knowing how happy dad Printed Mint would be if he saw me with a Prench filly under one of my front legs… I suppose I had my comeuppance. This led to her apartment and… well, that’s when Croissant realised that I didn’t know he was Baguette. She decided to break it to me. I, naturally, was stunned. However, at that point I noticed something about my holiday that I hadn’t noticed before; Dad Mint wasn’t there to tell me no. To take me away from the ‘freak’. To scold me for even thinking about doing what I did next. Oh goddess, he didn’t… It was the greatest night of my life. He did! He bucking did! Unfortunately, we both knew it was only for the night. We couldn’t risk Mint knowing about that night, and she had work for the rest of my time in Prance. Croissant is a waitress… apparently her boss doesn’t know the truth. Anyway, the last time I saw Baguette/Croissant, she was kissing me on the cheek and slipping the note into my wallet. I never brought it up with anypony since. Since then, I have been wondering; who was I with that night? A filly named Croissant? A colt named Baguette? Both? The answer’s clear now, thanks to you and the powder. He’s gay. I’m gay. … For me? No, not for you. I’m not making all that fan fiction true. Seriously, I could be your brother, for buck’s sake. Oh, thank fuck. I’m off to Blue Curaçao’s. I’m hoping he and I might have a talk about this. He seems like the type of pony who could help me out with this new discovery. Thanks again, Printed Page Presser PS: I saw the clock before going under. For future reference, I was out for half an hour. Half an hour, huh? Yeah… I got time. I throw the note off the bed and jump on. Thanks for proving to me it works, Page. Now it’s my turn to use Onderlandwah to solve the mystery of my sexuality. I put some powder in my hoof and licked it. And then I waited. And waited. And waited. “What the buck’s taking so-” Oop, there we go.