1. Brad-to-Be
The Mixed-Up Life of Brad
by D. G. D. Davidson
I. Brad-to-Be
With his mouth hanging open, Brad stood in the middle of Twilight Sparkle's backyard and swayed on his feet as he stared up at the glowing disc hovering in the air.
“Is it real?” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “This other world—?”
“Yes,” Twilight said, her eyes turned down to the crown in her hands. “It’s real.” The crown’s jewels glistened in the portal’s light.
He glanced at her and saw pleading in her eyes. He put his arms around her, and she tried to pull away, but he held her tight.
“Brad, please, don’t—!”
“If this is my last chance to hold you like this, I’m going to make the most of it.”
She stopped struggling, paused a moment, and then melted into his embrace. “You believe me, don’t you?” she whispered, laying her head against his chest. “About Equestria? About the ponies?”
“I love you.”
“That doesn’t really answer my question.”
“It should.” He placed two fingers under her chin, tilted her head up, and kissed her. The crown she’d been holding dropped to the grass. She slumped as her knees went weak, but his strong arms held her up. When he drew back, he found her eyes still closed, her lips still quivering, and her body still leaning against his, so he kissed her again, softly and briefly, before he said, “I’m going to come with you.”
“But—”
He kissed her one more time to stop her protest, but now she put her hands to his shoulders and pushed him away. “Brad, please, I do love you, but I’m really—”
“A talking magic horse with wings. I know. You told me already, and I told you I don’t care.”
She looked toward the hovering disc, put a hand to her mouth, and bit into a knuckle. “If you step through there, you’ll turn into a pony, too—”
“Perfect.” He tried to take her in his arms again, but she stepped back.
“Brad, please. I want you to think about this.”
“I’ve thought about it.”
“Think harder.” She shifted on her feet, and her eyes took on that pleading look again. Finally, with her face contorted in anguish, she said, “But I love you just the way you are, right now—”
“And I’ll love you no matter what you’re like. Do you believe me?”
Chewing her lip, she gazed into his face before she walked to him and swiftly gave him another kiss.
“That doesn’t answer my question,” he said.
“It should.”
“I can be back in an hour.” He glanced up at the disc. “How long will the portal stay open?”
“Until I pass through.”
He turned away from her, but she caught his hand and squeezed it, forcing him to linger.
“Take as much time as you need, Brad, but . . . hurry back.”
He pushed through the back door into the kitchen and called out, “Mom! Dad!” No sound answered except the steady dripping of the sink faucet. The house was dark, and the dim, ruddy light of the sunset angled through the Venetian blinds over the dingy kitchen windows.
Ewan, he knew, was at a friend’s house. Brad found, taped to the refrigerator, a note that said, “Red Cross meeting. Home late. Lasagna’s in the fridge. Love you. Mom.”
He didn’t even bother to heat the lasagna before he ate a piece. It was one of his favorite dishes, but he had little appetite due to the butterflies in his stomach.
After placing his plate in the sink, he walked, dazed, through the house. His hands found random objects and fondled them—a candlestick on the dining room table, a book on a bookshelf, one of Ewan’s action figures left in the middle of the living room carpet, the rough ring of missing veneer on the coffee table where someone had set down a glass without a coaster. It was the last time he would see this house, and now its most mundane components, its defects, the things he usually never thought about, were all precious to him.
He made his way back to the kitchen, pulled the lasagna from the fridge again, and ate another slice, this time more slowly. He realized it was the last time he’d eat meat.
After he ate, he walked up the stairs—noticing again how the third step from the top always groaned—and entered his room. He looked around at the posters of his favorite metal bands. A couple of model rockets dangled on wires from the ceiling; he touched them both and then stared at the dust coating his fingers. His guitar case stood propped in one corner. Crumpled on his bed was the dinosaur-print comforter he’d had since he was eight.
He took up his backpack and started throwing in things he thought he might want. He tossed in a few science fiction novels he wanted to read and some textbooks he knew Twilight would like. He considered taking some CDs, but then remembered Twilight telling him that the ponies didn’t have CD players. He thought about packing clothes, but figured none of them would fit anymore once he was a pony. Twilight said the ponies didn’t wear clothes much anyway.
Finally, from his desk, he picked up a photograph of his parents, himself, and his younger brother. All dressed in their Sunday best, the quintessence of a happy family, they smiled broadly for the camera. His father looked proud with his arm around his mother. His mother had a hand on little Ewan’s shoulder. Brad stood a little apart, and his smile was a little less enthusiastic. Even after his mother had tried hard to comb it down, his hair still stuck up.
For a moment, his conviction wavered. His hands shook, and he felt tears welling in his eyes, but at last he threw the photograph into his backpack. Slinging the pack over his shoulder, he took up the guitar case—Twilight had assured him it was possible to play the guitar with hooves, though he’d likely have to learn the instrument all over again—and then he left his room and shut the door. His hand lingered on the knob.
Back in the kitchen, he ripped the note from the fridge and turned it over on the kitchen table. He found a pen and wrote,
Dear Mom and Dad, and Ewan, too (hey, squirt),
I won’t be here when you get home. By the time you read this, I’ve already left. I’m okay. Please don’t try to find me. I’m safe and I’m happy. You might hear that Twilight Sparkle is missing from school. You remember you met her before I took her to the Fall Formal, right? You helped me pick out her corsage, Mom. I’m with her now. We’re both okay.
He frowned, and his knuckles turned white as he gripped the pen. He knew what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out right.
I want to explain, but I can’t. Twilight is from somewhere else, another place far away, and she has to go back home. She has stuff she’s got to do there, lots of responsibilities. I’d tell you about it, but it sounds crazy.
I’m going with her.
I love you. I love you a whole lot—
He stopped writing and clenched his teeth when he found tears forming in his eyes again. After a deep breath, he continued,
—but I love Twilight, too, and she can’t ever come back here again. I can’t lose her. I just can’t.
I’m sorry.
Love always,
Brad
After he finished the note, he put his head down on the table and wept.
It was dark when he returned to Twilight’s place. He found her sitting on the edge of the deck in the back with her legs dangling, feet idly kicking. Her dog Spike sat in her lap and panted softly. The portal hovered over the middle of the yard, seven feet in the air, and its wan, flickering light played across Twilight’s serene, uplifted face.
When Brad walked onto the deck, Spike stepped from Twilight’s lap and sat at his feet. He bent down and scratched the dog behind the ears.
“After we go through,” Twilight said, “he'll be a dragon again, able to walk on his hind legs and breathe fire.”
Brad laughed. When he looked up, he found Twilight leaning back against the railing and looking at him shyly through her lashes.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I want you to kiss me one more time while we’re still human. I want to remember—”
With another laugh, he grabbed her roughly and pressed his lips firmly against hers, lingering for a long moment. When he released her, her violet cheeks were flushed crimson.
“I think I’ll remember that,” she whispered as she pressed her face to his neck.
“What do we do now?” he asked.
She stepped from him and took up the crown from the railing. After carefully placing it on her head, she picked up Spike and cradled him in one arm. He whimpered softly. Then Twilight tried to climb onto the railing, but, with a gasp, she slipped.
Brad caught her before she fell. “Help me up,” she said. “We have to jump together.”
He held her steady until she had a good footing. Then, pressing his guitar case on the railing and leaning on the case for balance, he lithely stepped up beside her and took her hand.
His heart pounded hard, his throat closed, and his stomach clenched up as he looked down into that flickering disc. It swirled like a whirlpool.
“On three,” Twilight said.
He nodded, searching for his voice.
“One,” she said.
“Two,” he croaked.
“Three!”
Together, still holding hands, they jumped, and the world became a spinning sphere of light. He floated in nothing, and then he dissolved into nothing. Twilight’s hand slipped away, and somewhere far away in the brightness, he could hear her screaming.
He tried to call her name, but he couldn’t feel his mouth. He no longer had a mouth. He no longer had a face. He no longer had a body.
How can I hear her if I don’t have ears? That thought was his last before all thoughts disappeared. The brightness faded swiftly and without fuss, like a desert sunset, into black. But no stars came out, and Twilight’s screaming continued undiminished.
When Brad awoke, he lay on what felt like a sheet of polished quartz, smooth and cold. He raised his head and saw a tall, round mirror such as topped ladies’ dressing tables. It was blackened and cracked as if it had been through a fire. A fragment fell from it and struck the floor with a high-pitched tinkle, like the sound of a glass bell.
His breathing was loud in his ears, as if he’d been running in winter, but his breath didn’t frost on the air. His head felt light, and his stomach growled. He turned slowly until his eyes fell upon Twilight.
His heart leapt into his throat. He thought he had prepared himself for this.
He hadn’t.
She was indeed a pony, just as she had said. Her clothes were gone, but bright purple fur now covered her body. She lay on her side with her eyes closed and her barrel quivering. An image of a star, much like the one that had adorned her skirt, had been meticulously dyed into the fur of her hip. Her hair looked as it had before, dark blue and streaked with pink, but now she had a long tail to match. Her four legs ended in delicately filed hooves painted the same color as her coat.
As far as he could see, all that set her apart from a regular pony, aside from her coloration, was her head. It was bulbous, giving evidence of a large brain, and her muzzle was short and blunt, more like a dog’s than a horse’s. From her forehead rose a stubby horn that looked like ivory or mother of pearl, but which was dyed purple like her fur.
Before her face, lying on his back and looking to be asleep, was Spike. He did indeed look like a dragon, though he was less impressive than Brad had imagined.
His heart leapt again and then started pounding hard when Twilight opened her eyes. Her eyes looked much the same as they always had, but were now bigger. She stared up at him with her equine mouth hanging open, and then, to his shock, she unfolded an enormous wing from her back and used it to cover her face.
“Don’t look at me!” she cried.
“It’s okay,” he said. He reached a hand toward her.
He paused. Cautiously, he flexed his fingers. He turned his hand over and stared at it. Then he looked down at himself.
His legs were splayed out on a glass floor. He still wore his jeans, T-shirt, and jacket, and he was unmistakably human.
“I’m . . . me,” he said.
Behind her wing, Twilight released a single, soft sob. Some of her delicate purple feathers rustled from her exhaled breath.
Brad heard the loud, echoing clop of hooves against a hard surface. He looked across the room to a high double door made of glass set in a frame of gold. The door opened, and Brad sucked in his breath and trembled from head to toe as he beheld a great white unicorn with a crown of gold on its head and a mane colored like a rainbow and waving as if floating in water. The mane stretched over half the unicorn’s face and reached almost to the floor.
It glanced at him with one eye, and he pitched forward onto his face.
“Twilight Sparkle,” he heard a stern, feminine voice say, “what have you done?”
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Damn this is coolio.
And then Brad was a corpse
2601908
Well, shoot. Now I don't have to write the next chapter.
2601913
Hiding the CorpseFuneral ServiceWell, this is going to be an interesting take on the archetype.
Faved.
2602409
This is my apology to Brad after I made him such a creepola in my last story.
2602415 Well, let's se how he adjusts to being in a world without meat and a girlfriend that could have him executed for sneezing wrong.
I'm confused by Twilight's reaction, but confused in a good way. Does this mean she still finds Brad attractive even within pony form -- and by extension, thinks of her own form as hideous? Is it just personal fears stemming from her shock over him still being human? You've intrigued me.
I'm also amused that he thought to bring his guitar with him. Can't have Brad without his guitar: it is his defining characteristic.
Hmm. It makes me wonder if Twilight has always had an inferiority complex with regards to her physical beauty. She has held Princess Celestia up on a pedestal, and that might also include her physical form. She went from being your average pony (for whom roundness is normal and healthy) to a thin, lithe, leggy form (remind you of anypony?) capable of turning the head of a prime male specimen. A return to pony form means a return to her insecurity in her actual body- it was one thing when she was Aphrodite to his Adonis, with the understanding that he would be getting the "downgrade" in looks as well, but he remains the "beauty" and she feels like a beast.
Anyway, you've made me feel a little better about the upcoming... thing that is Equestria Girls. I probably won't watch it, but I will watch this to see where it goes.
Ooh.. will definitely be reading this..
And yers, I enjoyed it. Keep going, author.
I like this, some more please
Shining Armor to Cadence: "Honey get the baseball bat."
i dont know about this....
*reads story
Its good, no, fucking good like and fav.
Your other story "A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies" began with a simplistic, near-absurd premise, too. And yet you managed to develope it into a more complex and mature narration which I am frankly enjoying.
So I think I´ll give this one a try too.
Pretty cool so far and a definitely nice contrast to your last story. Good human for the win! Can't wait to see how things play out. On a side note, I can't help but think 4 powerful alicorns with the elements of harmony at their disposal can figure out a species change spell. Perk up Twi.
2601941
Chapter 3: PTSD or Recollections
"We all know zombies aren't allowed in Equestria!" *starts tapping Brad on the head with a broom* "Back to the 12th dimension from whence thy came!"
"But Brad isn't a zombie, he's not even dead!"
"Oh he will be." *taps him with the broom harder*
HA! Stupid Teenager. That's what you get for falling in love with a girl you knew less then three days.
DIS GON B GUD
Less impressive than imagined? That's gotta be the story of Spike's life.
You're making me feel for Brad. How could anybody actually make me feel for Brad?
*checks the author name *
Well, that explains that. Keep on being the greatest author for the (semi)canonical humans of various ponyverses, D.G.
Wait wait wait...
Brad left his family and his only brother
just because he in love with Twilighit...
You made me hate this ship even MORE
seeing as i watched EQG last night i just had to read this story xD
2771468 Hey!, Me too
But i saw it today
I have yet to watch Equestria Girls, but I don't care.
I wish I read this sooner.
Because its fucking brilliant.
3846824
I second that motion...!