Recherche

by Crescent Pulsar

Chapter 3: Hook, Line and 'Net

Marshall pushed and pulled the carriage of the meat slicer over the blade at a practiced pace, along with the smoked turkey that was secured to it. At the end of each push he caught a new slice of meat in his Kevlar and vinyl-gloved hand, and during the process of pulling back he set it onto a pile of matching meat slices. It was a routine that could lull him into a zoned-out state, should he allow it, except he was too mindful of his job at the deli, being watched by patrons of the supermarket, his personal safety, and of his co-worker, Simon.

Nevertheless, it helped to take his mind off of what had happened last night. He didn't want to believe that it had happened at all, especially since he hadn't heard "Rarity" since then, but he'd left behind enough evidence of last night's events to know that something had happened. He didn't want to believe that he was going mental, or that someone was messing with him for some unknown reason, so he could only hope that he had been communicating with a magical, cartoon unicorn from another world... However unbelievable that seemed.

After all, who wouldn't want to experience something as novel as that? Many people dreamed of the imaginary being real when they were young, although they tended to grow out of entertaining notions of that nature. By the time that people reached his own age of twenty-seven, they looked forward to more down-to-earth ideas, if one could — for example — call contact with extraterrestrial life, or the manned exploration of other celestial objects in the solar system, such.

While he normally counted himself among the rational adults, and the fantasy in question was more stereotypical of a young girl, his dilemma made it more preferable than the reasonable explanations that he could come up with. If it was more than a prank, for instance, he couldn't even begin to figure out what to do. He didn't know why they would be doing whatever it was that they were doing, or what kind of power and resources were backing them, which was — to be frank — scary. On the other hand, hearing voices could have a negative impact on his life if proven to be the case: people could assume that he was a liability, if not outright dangerous; he could lose his job, and with the condition being on record — and probably mandatory to divulge — it would likely affect his future prospects and livelihood; and, worst of all, people would probably look at him differently, treat him differently, as if he weren't like them.

Sure, it might be delusional to hope that Rarity's claims were real, but no one else had to know about it, and it was better than thinking about the other possibilities. As things were, though, he was wishing that he could put on some headphones and listen to Peace of Mind, by Boston, right then. It was a song that had helped him get through a rough patch in his early teens, back when his family's financial situation had driven his parents to many a verbal spar. He'd sought an escape in music, and it just so happened that the phrase, "all I want is to have my peace of mind," had caught his attention, and he had latched on to it for coping purposes.

A few years later, after having taken those words to heart, the rest had — in the meantime — impressed upon him the mental wherewithal to accept that he'd have to pass up college, unlike his older brother and sister. They'd had the financial backing of their parents, but between bad financial decisions, a terrible economic climate, and unplanned expenses, they ended up filing for chapter thirteen shortly after they had paid for his sister's tuition.

It wasn't like he'd had any particular plans for his life, anyway, and that was still the case at present. Besides which, his brother was an example of why a college education didn't guarantee a decent job, or even the kind that had been prepared for. While he had a good-paying job at the moment, it had taken several years to obtain, and it wasn't even the kind that he particularly enjoyed.

While he didn't care for his own job, he wasn't fond of stagnation either, so he had elected to find a job that paid well enough for him to move out of his parents' house. There had been the stigma of living with one's parents at his age, of course, and wanting one less strike against him for whenever he got around to seeking a relationship with someone, so — with all those things combined — he had simply moved forward to see if he'd run into any interesting opportunities.

It was at that moment that his thoughts and work were interrupted by a familiar flash of vertigo and fuzzy-headedness, although it took him a second to realize why it felt familiar in the first place. Despite it being the second time, however, he pushed aside his concerns and continued with his work, since he didn't want to make a scene unless it couldn't be helped. If it happened again, he'd seriously consider consulting a doctor, since — for all that he knew — it could be a sign of a developing stroke.

Once he had a pound of the smoked turkey in slices, he shut off the meat slicer before wrapping it up and sealing it in a bag. The blade on the meat slicer had finished spinning by then, so he adjusted the slice thickness setting to zero, in order to close the blade. With that out of the way, he focused on the process of printing up a sticker — with various details on it, including the price — to put on the bag of smoked turkey, applied it, then delivered the product to the customer, who put it in the seat of their cart, alongside the white American cheese and potato salad that they had also gotten from the deli, and went about their business without a word.

Now that the demand of customer service had abated, and no one else had been waiting on his side of the deli for their turn, he spared Simon a glance, who was in the middle of putting a rotisserie chicken in a container for the customer that he was currently attending. There was another customer waiting on that side, but they had yet to notice that he was no longer being occupied.

Before he could move to return the smoked turkey to the refrigerated display case, and then getting the customer's attention, he was frozen in place by Rarity making her presence known to him, who tentatively asked, "Marshall? Can you spare a moment?"

The fact that she was speaking to him during his work hours, despite the arrangement that they had made, didn't immediately occur to him, due to the significance of her being able to do so. Not only that, but a quick check revealed that no one seemed to react to her voice even though he was pretty sure that she was loud enough to be heard, and her manner of speech — to him, at least — being rather unique when compared to how people normally spoke in the area.

While it was a bit of a struggle, he reined in his anxiety and forced himself to breathe normally again. While it was worrying that Rarity could do what she was doing at his job, he wasn't going to benefit from allowing that worry to control him. However, now he was really beginning to hope that Rarity's claims were true.

When he turned to retrieve the smoked turkey from the meat slicer's carriage, after making sure that no one would see his face, he quietly muttered, "'Easily done,' huh?"

Rarity sounded fairly contrite with her response. "I do apologize, but I was so tired last night that I don't even remember falling asleep. Otherwise, I would have contacted you sometime during the morning hours."

"Why couldn't you wait until tonight?" Marshall asked, before he slowly took the smoked turkey and moved it into the display case, where he would remain in a squatting position for as long as he thought it would conceal him — his mouth, in particular — without looking out of place.

"Ah, well," Rarity began, somewhat guiltily, "originally, I was just going to check in for a moment and watch, because you hadn't mentioned what your job was and I was curious." The guilt was cleared away, to be replaced by mild excitement. "However, I was just so excited about our connection that I just had to tell Twilight — the friend that I had mentioned to you before — about it right away. After talking for a bit, we eventually had an idea that I felt you should know about as soon as possible, so you can have some time to think about it before giving me an answer."

Marshall decided that he could let her off the hook, so long as what she had to say was truly worth the intrusion. "Okay, well, I need to get back to work, so go ahead and tell me about this idea of yours."

Putting words to action, he closed the display case, stood up, got the customer's attention, then asked them what they needed. Rarity waited until he was no longer interacting with the customer to start talking, at which point she cleared her throat and said, "Well, after I got the excitement out of my system, I told her how I wished there was a way to prove to you that what I've said is the truth, because I felt bad about the position I've put you in."

As Marshall secured some pastrami in the carriage of the meat slicer, and prepared to slice it, he tried to pay close attention to Rarity without it affecting his work, now that he knew what the subject was about.

"After some consideration," Rarity continued, "Twilight decided that she would figure out a way to bring you to our world. That way, in addition to putting your mind at ease, she can pursue her own interests with you personally." There was a brief pause before she — in apparent remembrance, in relation to what she had just been saying — added, "Oh! That's right: when I told her about the wonders of the Internet, she was utterly captivated by it."

Marshall's forward motion with the carriage slowed to a stop, and he fumbled with the newest slice of meat being delivered to his hand, upon hearing that first sentence. He barely registered the rest of what Rarity had said, but her interjection was enough for him to pull himself together and continue cutting the pastrami. Much to his relief, after a quick, surreptitious look about himself, he discovered that his latest customer was preoccupied by the selection of salads for sale, and that Simon's attention was on his cell phone.

What Rarity had said had been unexpected, to say the very least — and just as unbelievable. As much as he'd like to believe it, though, it was also worrisome: now he had to worry about being abducted as well, if he wasn't crazy and the whole other world thing turned out to be a lie. Rather than putting his mind at ease with anticipation, now he was really beginning to dread what the outcome might be.

He was unsure if he should try speaking to Rarity while a customer was nearby, in order to tell her how he felt about her message, but he lost his opportunity when Rarity proceeded to say, "Well, I don't want to be any more of a bother, so I'll be on my way, now. Ta-ta!"

Marshall just barely stopped himself from saying something in reply, and thus avoided drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Instead, he released a sigh and continued with the familiar motions of his current activity. That didn't stop him from thinking about what to expect in the future, though; which he really wasn't looking forward to. Still, he kept it together, and the rest of his shift went by in the same manner as it usually did.

After clocking out, he decided to pick up a burrito on the way home, because he wasn't in the mood to make anything while his thoughts were as burdened by his current circumstances as they were. He decided to eat it on the way home, so he could get himself comfortable as soon as he got there, which would also help to prepare him mentally for whatever might happen with Rarity.

Twenty minutes later, after changing into a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt, and grabbing a bottle of iced tea, he was in his living room, reclining in the recliner, just staring up at a corner of the ceiling as Boston's debut album played quietly in the background. With the exception of the music being played, this was not an unusual activity for him, although it was probably the first time — as far as he could recall — that he had ever done it in preparation for something, rather than as a means of making a recovery after the fact.

However, his situation wasn't one that he knew how to handle, and the possible prospects that he could look forward to were mostly unwanted or scary. At any other time in the past, whenever he had some kind of problem that had an elusive solution, he'd had a few options that he could fall back on for support or aid, but now they were compromised in some form or another. That was partly because he couldn't be sure of just what — exactly — his problem was, but it was mainly because the bad ones could have negative repercussions if he sought help. Aside from not wanting anyone to think that he was crazy, and preferring to keep it to himself and live with it if that turned out to be the case, now he had to worry about endangering others if whoever was watching him had plans for him that involved more than just observation and remote communication.

Eventually, he had another one of those weird — yet very short — bouts of disorientation, although he was able to realize its cause when Rarity spoke right afterward. "Marshall?"

"Yeah?" Marshall absently replied, who was wondering if there was any use for what he had just learned, beyond the obvious.

"How do you feel about coming to my world?" Rarity queried, sounding a bit eager for an answer, before she evenly added, "Of course, if — for some reason — you don't feel comfortable with that, we can try to formulate some other way to prove that what I'm saying is true."

Marshall didn't even want to contemplate what "another way" might entail, so he stuck with the devil that he knew. "How can I even be sure that what you're proposing to do isn't going to lead to me being abducted?"

Rarity's belated reply was suffused with a mixture of guilt and sympathy. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry... I thought that you would have looked forward to having your fears allayed. I hadn't foreseen this reaction at all..."

"I want to believe it," Marshall admitted despite himself, finding it difficult to believe that Rarity was being insincere, "but magic, unicorns... interdimensional travel, I guess? They only exist in fiction, as far as I'm aware. Y'know?"

Rarity was quiet for a time. Her tone of voice was difficult to decipher when she next spoke, though he could pick out the reluctance and resignation in it, which probably said more than enough about how she supposedly felt. "I..." She paused and sighed, as if she hadn't fully committed herself when she had started speaking, or had changed her mind regarding what she would say. "I understand. It was never my intention to cause you such grief, so if you would prefer that I sever our connection, then... So be it."

Marshall took a sip of his tea as he digested that, silently damning Rarity for being such a good actress, if that was — indeed — what she was. It wasn't only by the virtue of her sounding so convincingly genuine that made it hard for him to reject her, but that she hadn't resorted to guilt-tripping him. While it wasn't enough for him to feel sorry for her, it was sufficient to afford her a measure of respect and consideration.

Of course, whether she was telling the truth or not, it wouldn't matter if she was a voice in his head. He'd never heard of anyone making such an arrangement and the outcome reflect it, at any rate. In the case that she was a real person, and not a magical, cartoon unicorn from another world, then there was no guarantee that she would honor her word. At least, for the amount of effort put into communicating with him in the mysterious manner in which it was accomplished, he would find it odd if she were to simply drop whatever had been planned.

In the end, he felt that telling her to go away was unlikely to change anything. If — against all odds — she was actually telling the truth, however, then he'd have no chance to gain anything at all by parting ways with her. It was that sliver of hope that urged him to keep her around, in conjunction with how well-behaved and conscientious she had presented herself to be thus far.

After taking another sip of his tea, he pushed back the undercurrent of helplessness and uncertainty as he softly said, "I guess you can stay."

"You won't regret it," Rarity replied, in all seriousness, although with a note of the effort that she was exercising to hold back her joy and relief at the news. "You'll have the proof that you're hoping for before too long, I assure you. Until then, in order to lessen the burden that I've placed upon you, I'll keep my requests to a minimum. How does that sound?"

Marshall mumbled a sound that could pass as one of approval, but he honestly didn't know what to think about the offer one way or the other.

---

Sure enough, Marshall didn't receive many requests from Rarity. However, it wasn't so much from the fact that she checked herself as it was from a lack of opportunity. Aside from never making a connection with him while he worked, she usually only reserved a half of an hour for him during her lunch break, which she only used about half of the time. While she could spare two or three hours of her night, it wasn't unusual for her to be tired from the very start of their connection, and a few times he was pretty sure that she had dozed off, since she usually had some parting words before she called it a night.

So, even though he didn't really care about fashion, he didn't have to deal with it so much that he couldn't bear it. It also helped that Rarity looked for inspiration outside of the traditional mediums, beyond the fashion shows, educational programs, documentaries and the like. In fact, once she got a taste of the fashion utilized in fictional works, from such things as film, cartoons and comics, she began to focus on those half of the time. Personally, he'd like to think that she did that — at least in part — for his own sake.

Although he hadn't asked for it initially, Rarity was happy to exchange information about herself, where she lived, and her world in general, which made for a nice break if it followed the more boring aspects of her pursuit. While he still wasn't convinced that any of it was real, that, along with his interactions with her in general, eased his fears about her, whether they were about her being a part of some mysterious conspiracy or a creation of his own mind: on the one hand, the former didn't seem to match his mental profile of her; on the other, the latter didn't seem so bad, since he'd certainly heard of worse when it came to voices.

He hadn't offered much information about himself without reason, so Rarity often had to fish for it. It wasn't that he had anything to hide: it was simply due to the fact that — as far as he was concerned — there wasn't much worth mentioning. He was just some guy who was going nowhere in life, had no prospects or dreams, and had a job that did little more than support his current — and admittedly lackluster — lifestyle. In addition to that, he had no immediate plans for companionship, and he'd fallen out of contact with most of his friends over the years, between them moving away to pursue a higher education and/or jobs, and him moving a few cities away from their hometown. As it turned out, he wasn't all that great at maintaining long-distance relationships, and most of his friends were only willing to put in the extra effort to stay in contact with him for so long.

Eventually, nearly two weeks after their first meeting, Rarity had something important to tell him in the morning: "Twilight has figured out a way to bring you to our world."

Twilight Sparkle, Marshall recalled, was one of Rarity's friends, among the number that she had informed him about with the expectation that he would meet them one day. Not only was Twilight Sparkle the one who made it possible for Rarity to come into contact with him in the first place, but she was also — of all things — a princess on top of that; as if he hadn't needed anything more to make him doubt her claims.

Regardless, it was a big deal that the moment of truth had actually arrived, where he would find out who or what Rarity was, so he entered the menu in the game that he was playing, put aside his Playstation 4 controller, and muted the TV, feeling that his undivided attention would be required for the conversation ahead. He could always get back to playing Tales of Zestiria later, if he had the opportunity, or was still in the mood for it.

He was fairly nervous, since his future could be greatly impacted in the moments to come, but he did his best to suppress it as he calmly asked, "She has?"

About a week ago Rarity had informed him that Twilight Sparkle had given up on using a transdimensional portal to get him to their world, in favor of figuring out something that guaranteed both success and safety. While Twilight Sparkle had no real problem creating the portal itself, the problem lied in where to establish the one on his end. Apparently, calculating distance between universes was akin to working in terms of "further" instead of "farther": she could apply a unit of measurement to the spell that connected him to Rarity, but that had no bearing on the distance that separated their universes. So, there was no telling if the difference between one millionth of a degree and another would place the portal well out of his range, or so close that it would shear off a portion of his body. Without knowing the discrepancy in distances, getting the portal within reach of him, using small — and relatively safe — increments, could easily take much longer than they would be alive.

That was the gist of what had been related to Rarity, at any rate. He couldn't even begin to imagine what the uncut version of Twilight Sparkle's explanation would have been like, since that sort of stuff was well beyond his understanding. Well, assuming that she was even real. Depending on what Rarity had in store for him, though, that uncertainty may resolve itself soon enough, one way or the other.

After confirming her statement with a hum, Rarity elaborated by saying, "There's this pond called the 'Mirror Pool,' whose magic can create a copy of those who peer into it when speaking a particular rhyme. Using the spell that connects us as a conduit, Twilight will pull your consciousness into the copy."

"...What?" Marshall deadpanned, who could hardly believe what he had heard. When Rarity asked if he wanted her to repeat herself, he said, "No, it's just..." He sighed, leaned forward, with his elbows digging into his legs, and rested his forehead upon the heels of his hands. "You're saying that I'll be a copy of... you?" After Rarity acknowledged that that would be the case, he continued in the most self-possessed manner that he could manage. "Assuming that all of this stuff is real, don't you... You know, think it's strange?"

"Well, of course," Rarity conceded. "But we are doing this for your sake. It will only be temporary, and you will only need to visit our world once; you can handle that much, surely?"

"I guess..." Marshall mumbled, his mind awhirl.

Visiting another world had been one thing, and unbelievable all by itself, but making said visit as one of its denizens, and female to boot? It was just beyond absurd. Personally, he had nothing against being a unicorn, and being female was more intimidating than anything else, but...

He glanced up at the screen of his television, unsure if he was looking for an answer or a distraction, and he was reminded that many of his games featured characters who got swept up in adventure, often going to places they never would have imagined going before, and doing things that they had previously been unable to conceive themselves of doing. He had never expected or hoped that he'd have such an experience one day, but hadn't he been looking for a certain something in his life, however passively he'd gone about it?

As much as he coasted along from day to day, and assured certain family members that he was happy with the way that things were, he knew that he wasn't being completely honest with himself. A stable, quiet and sedate life wasn't at all bad, but it lacked a certain, indefinable quality. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but he was pretty sure that the part of him that resonated with it was — at that very moment — urging him to cast aside logic and believe that there was another world awaiting him.

He was roused from his thoughts when Rarity sighed, who evenly said, "Marshall, I know that this might be too much for you to handle, and I would understand if that turned out to be the case, but if you're truly willing to go through with this, then I must ask that you sound more convincing than that."

Marshall gathered his resolve and sat up straight before sheepishly saying, "Yeah, sorry." After clearing his throat, he firmly added, "I'll do it. I might not like what could happen if this is a sham, but if I back out and nothing happens, I think I might regret it more not knowing if I missed out on everything that you've told me about your world."

"Then don't you worry one moment more, darling," Rarity confidently replied. "We can bring you here at your earliest convenience and clear up all of your concerns on the matter."

Marshall considered that for a moment before saying, "Well, it isn't long before your usual bedtime, and I'll have to go to work shortly after that, so... Tonight, I suppose?"

"That will be fine," Rarity gave her assent. "Just be sure that you're lying down when we do this, say... between ten-thirty and eleven?"

After Marshall agreed with that, Rarity opted to go to bed early, saying that she wanted to get some extra work done in the morning, since she didn't know how long she would be attending to him in the afternoon. That was just as well, because he found himself too distracted by the ever-nearing deadline to carry on his end of a conversation well; he ended up pacing and fidgeting a lot, as well as trying to fight down his restlessness and maintaining a firm grip on his optimism for what was to come. Not even one of the most soothing albums in his collection, Devin Townsend's Ghost, could do much to settle his nerves.

He'd never felt so troubled in his life, so he even went so far as to call up his work and pretend that he was too sick to come in, since he'd have a rough time handling his job while in his current state of mind. Thankfully, since he had only taken two sick days off during his employment thus far, and had a good attendance record otherwise, his manager accepted his request with minimal resistance.

That left him with eight extra hours to occupy himself with at home, since he didn't want to go out and risk the truth about his health getting back around to his workplace. He made a valiant effort to divert his mind with video games, movies and the like, but was met with limited success. Still, he managed to pass the time despite how slowly it seemed to pass, until there was only an hour left before he was scheduled to lie down on his bed.

By then, he had become unhinged enough — from his usual behavior — to concern himself with how horses walked, and actually got down on his hands and knees to see how difficult it would be for him to get the motions right while crawling. Surprisingly, despite being halting and slow, his body already seemed to have a good idea of how to handle quadrupedal locomotion, at least in regard to a horse's walking gait; he had just never really thought about it before, since humans were strictly described as being bipedal.

While the act was a bit awkward and embarrassing, despite doing it in private, he did get some amusement out of it, since he was taking his supposedly-impending transformation into a horse — or pony, as Rarity had referred to her kind — seriously enough to prepare for a potential problem. Of course, it was rather dubious whether his crawling skills would translate over to a true quadruped to any extent. There was also the fact that the structure of a horse's hind leg was very different from the upper half of a human's leg.

Finally, after dinner, and a few minutes before the agreed-upon window of time, he found himself lying on his bed. Despite his repose, however, his heart was far from being at rest, and he began to feel hot and sweaty, because he would soon find out the reality of his situation. Was he crazy? Was it a prank taken to ridiculous lengths? Would he be abducted? Was he a part of some secret experiment? Could it even be extraterrestrials?

It was a few minutes after ten forty when he felt Rarity making a connection, whose tone was touched by concern as she asked, "How are you doing, Marshall?"

"About as well as could be expected," Marshall answered, who was only mildly successful at sounding nonchalant.

Rarity voiced her understanding before saying, "Well, I just wanted to tell you what to expect before we bring you over, so you can prepare yourself for the experience."

Not knowing what to say to that, but wanting her to continue, Marshall said, "Okay..."

"First," Rarity evenly began, "we don't know how the transfer will feel, but there shouldn't be any pain involved. Following that, you will find yourself submerged in the pond, but it is to my understanding that you'll be largely unaffected by the water. Still, be sure to raise one of your forelegs — both, if you can manage it — and Twilight and I will pull you out of the pond. After that, well... We'll just have to play it by ear. How does that sound?"

"Like a plan," came Marshall's Rorschach response, who was finding it difficult to communicate with more eloquence and wit.

Whether or not Rarity had picked up on how he was feeling, she hurriedly said, "I better not keep you in any more suspense, then."

Assuming that she had disconnected, Marshall tensed up even further as the seconds ticked onward, keeping his eyes open in case one of his fears turned out to be real. However, after a few minutes, things... changed, for lack of a better word: one second he was staring up at his nondescript ceiling, the next was an experience that was beyond the capability of his mind's faculties to comprehend, then he was seeing something completely different and feeling rather discombobulated.

He reeled as his senses were bombarded with information both strange and new. He saw a pair of cartoon horses standing before him, looking down at him from their higher vantage point, but — to him — they appeared to be indistinct from one another, and he didn't really register their presence. He could hear something that could have been speech, at the same time as one of the horse's mouths were moving, but he couldn't understand what was being said, or even recognize its familiar qualities. The entirety of his body felt encapsulated by something that was pressing against him gently, and the map being drawn up by his mind, based on the collection of sensations being received, did not take the familiar form of a human.

Despite his confusion and general detachment, some part of his brain recalled that he was supposed to do something. He raised both of his "arms" without thinking, and absently noted that what came into view were not what he would have normally expected to see with such an action being performed. At the same time, the upper portion of his body began to drift forward slowly, and he was unable to realize that the actual direction was downward, since his body was now meant to be parallel with the ground with proper support, rather than perpendicular to it.

Fortunately, he was caught before he fell too far, with one stumpy-looking appendage per equally-stumpy "arm," and some part of him idly noted that they shouldn't have had any grip, much less enough to haul him out of whatever he was in. While he felt his legs being drug behind him, it didn't occur to him to put them underneath him and walk, so — after being moved a short distance — he soon found himself lying face-down on a cool, rocky surface, in a position that was less natural for his current body than it would have been for the one that he'd had just a moment or two ago.

He could still hear that indecipherable voice, along with another, as he stared blankly ahead, the limbs in front of him a stark contrast to the ground and dimly-lit environment in general. Had his arms always been that white? Sure, he hadn't gotten a lot of sunlight, but the color looked unnatural, pale or not. Also, where had his hands gone? He didn't recall having an accident at work, or anything else like that. His arms looked like the ones that he could see just beyond his reach, except they looked perfectly comfortable behaving like legs.

For the first time since his arrival, not that he had been aware that he had arrived anywhere, his eyelids remembered their autonomic duty and blinked. Bits and pieces of his faculties returned to him as he puzzled over the sight before him, which caused his face to scrunch up in confusion. However, realization eventually dawned on him, and his eyes widened as he finally began to see the situation for what it was.

After raising his head and whipping it this way and that, he saw that he was in a cave, which was mostly illuminated by a sizeable shaft of light that entered from a hole in the ceiling, with some familiar-looking flora making a small contribution with their glow. Without meaning to, he turned his head far enough to see the pond behind him, due to following the beam of light that shone upon it, and it occurred to him that he shouldn't have been able to turn his head that far. Immediately after realizing that, he registered the mass of white near the bottom of his peripheral vision, and the conscious part of his brain began to notice the signals that indicated that it was a part of his own body, not a foreign one. At the same time, he also became aware of the purple hair that sprouted from the top of his rump and covered much of what were now his legs, as well as the hair that draped over one shoulder and the opposite side of his face.

"Marshall?" A familiar voice entreated, sounding concerned.

Returning his attention to the fore, he once again saw a pair of cartoon horses, only this time he was fully cognizant of them. He quickly deduced that the one with the white coat and purple hair was Rarity, since he was supposed to be a copy of her, and that seemed to match what he had seen of himself so far. The other one, with the light purple coat and — as far as he could tell in the gloom of the cave — midnight blue hair that had a stripe of magenta and violet in it, he assumed to be Twilight Sparkle, since Rarity had mentioned her involvement before.

Despite the sight before him, in all of their big-eyed, horned, winged and cartoon-y glory, and the alien feelings coming from his own body, his hope-filled mind compelled him to seek further verification. "Is this... real?"

Rarity approached, and gazed down at him compassionately as she laid one of her forehooves upon his shoulder. "As real as it can be, dear."

Relief flooded Marshall's body and mind, washing away nearly two weeks of stress and suppressed feelings. His body went lax, and unshed tears came to the corners of his eyes when he closed them. He couldn't remember feeling so emotionally charged before, and while he felt like crying, he was able to hold back the tears and simply bask in the thought of being free from his fears.

Free, and right in the middle of something that he never would have imagined as being possible.

Comments

[gamer4COD]

An interesting story with the manners to ask before you dimensionally drag someone to Equestria. Fave and liked.

[lefthandturnsignal]

Huh, I like.

Just about right for characterization and how an average joe would react in this situation. Somewhat unique too, that's pretty rare in this genre.

[nekomyah]

How in the hell do you pronounce that title????

[Crescent Pulsar]

6814906 There are several ways, but I personally use what sounds like the British sample found at this site: Cambridge Dictionaries Online.

[Oliver]

Most promising story of the subgenre in recent days. I shall be watching that.

Please don't drop it, please don't drop it, please don't drop it...

[timedragontardis]

i cant wait to see more of this and were it goes liked and faved

[ForestPony]

Love it can't wait for the next chapter!

[b300mussolini]

please sir, can i has some moer?

[ferret]

He never acknowledges the presence of any other human beings. It's like they don't exist. Only him, his computer, his ramen, his meat slicer, his job, and such like that. He mentioned about family once, but never interacted with anyone. He seems like the kind of person who doesn't have any worth as a human being, and just goes by detesting others so much that he doesn't even willingly acknowledge that they exist. He also makes sure to prioritize eating above communicating with Rarity. Really he sounds like a very unhealthy, and unpleasant person, with a terrible life and extremely poor health if he thinks ramen and ravioli are cheaper than healthy food.

[FreedomFiend]

You might want to tone down the purple prose. Big words may sound nice, but they can be quite wearing on the reader.

[DerpTape]

A great, and original, take on getting a human into a pony body. Five mustaches for creativity :

Keep the change, ya filthy animal

[IcyLily]

with how horses walked, and actually got down on his hands and knees to see how difficult it would be for him to get the motions right while crawling.

Why is it always the knees, when ponies walk on the tips of their toes (hoofes)? Aside from being quadrupedal it hardly resembles a pony's gait.

[Crescent Pulsar]

10626372
As far as I’m aware, gait has more to do with placement and sequence (and probably some other things) and less to do with what’s contacting the surface. Either way, what’s being conveyed here is that humans have an innate ability to move on four limbs, and it’s similar enough for ignorant Marshall to copy. (And for me. I tried it with my hands and feet too, which was rather awkward but doable.)