Date
Language check. Anything wrapped in < > in this chapter is spoken Equish, everything else is in English.
Over the course of a week, Mike watched his hands grow more and more hoof-like. His little finger atrophied away faster than his thumb, but both of the unmerged digits on each hand were getting smaller. His wrist grew stiffer, harder to bend side to side or forward, although backwards motion remained free.
His feet had been usable for most of the week, but over the last two days his heels had started to pull upwards, forcing him to balance on the massed "toe" that was the amalgamation of most of his toes.
Mike measured himself twice a day, and was following a trend that he was already emotionally drained about; his penis was shrinking. At just two and a half inches, he was now less than half as long as he had been fully human.
Staring into the mirror, Mike sighed. "I shouldn't go." His eyes fell on the slight puffiness of his face, and the protruding horn—that seemed to grow as his maleness shrank. "But I promised Rose." The words galvanized his decision, and Mike heaved himself up on the crutches, and wrapped his whole hand-hoof around the handles.
Opening his bedroom door, he started the rocking gait that crutches imposed, and used the reduced weight on his feet to balance on his toes. When he reached the kitchen, he caught sight of Rose. "Wow." His neat jeans (even if they were still his mother's old ones) and shirt were completely outclassed by Rose's dress. She wore it strapless, and it clung to her chest in all the right ways. His eyes followed the fabric down to her ankles.
"I'll take that as a compliment." Rose's own gaze followed Mike's form, and if she found his hands and feet odd, it didn't show. "Looking good yourself." She walked right up to Mike, and offered her cheek.
Taking the kiss, chaste as it was, Mike inhaled a little and caught Rose's scent. Smell had started to become much more intense for him, and finding Rose wearing something provocative but not too strong had plastered a grin on his face. "Shall we go?" He started to rock forward on his crutches.
"Slowly, Mike." Rose put her hand to Mike's chest to slow him down. "Let's not rush tonight. I want to have fun." She returned his earlier kiss on Mike's fuzzy cheek. "Let's sneak out before—"
"Oh! Let me get a picture of you!" Joyce slipped out of the living room, her camera in hand. "My little boy going out on a date!"
Mike tried to cover his face with one arm, but since he was relying on his arms to brace the crutches he had to keep hold of them or fall over. "Mum! It's just a date…"
" 'Just a date'?" Rose put her hands on her hips. "Mike, come on. You can explain the concept of 'just a date' to me in the car." Turning, Rose's stern expression slipped into a wide smile.
"Yes dear." Mike's voice was almost a laugh, he couldn't keep his tone even. Swinging his crutches, he followed Rose into the evening. "Where are we going?"
"Somewhere nice." Opening her door, Rose jumped into the driver seat of her mother's car. "Are you okay getting,"—watching Mike swing himself into the car, Rose realized he was fine—"in. Alright. Strap in and hold on!"
Mike was in the process of doing just what Rose asked, but his stiff finger couldn't hold the seat-belt properly, and it started to infuriate him. "R-R-Rose…" Asking for help with such a simple thing stung Mike's pride. "I need help with this." He waited a moment, handing the belt to Rose when she held out her hand, and in a moment the buckle clicked into the receiver. "Thanks."
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Mike. You can't help this." Rose gestured to Mike, clearly indicating the changes that his body was undergoing. "We just have to work with what we have."
"Or soon won't have." Rocked back in his seat as Rose put the car into gear, Mike did hold on. The trip—taking the better part of half an hour—was mostly made in silence. Mike was acutely aware of the pop music playing on the car's stereo, and used the mindless nature of it to block out the journey until they stopped in the parking lot of a fancy restaurant.
"Here we are. Do you need more help?" The tone in Rose's voice held nothing in the way of pity or accusation. "I am going to be going through all of this soon, and Miss Candela said that if this really is a sign of being a bat pony, I might be growing wings too."
"Wait, really? You could fly?" Mike's self-pity fell by the wayside in the face of something interesting. "I mean, that would be awesome, right? I am really looking forward to having magic. I saw unicorns in Canterlot using it, and even felt it on the train there."
Rose climbed out of the car, and locked it once Mike had swung out and boarded his crutches. "How did you feel it?" She moved to Mike's side, and to Mike's surprise she put her arm around his shoulders.
"I was tripping over and he caught me, Stamped Mark that is, the train's conductor. It was… It was like being in a slightly stiff bean-bag chair. He spread his magic out and cupped it under me, and it conformed to me, but also held me up." Mike inwardly cursed having to use the crutches, with Rose so close he could have put his arm around her shoulders too. "It was pretty awesome, and I am going to be able to do that too!"
Rose seemed to ponder the words a moment. "So you could lift a huge pile of rock as easily as—" She stopped talking. She had realized they had kept talking as they walked in the door of the restaurant, and the maitre d' was looking at them. "Uh, hi. I have a reservation. It's under R Stein."
"Of course." The maitre d' seemed to know the name without looking up any book. "Right this way, please."
Mike leaned a little more against Rose, and lowered his tone. "<Aren't they supposed to have a list, or something>?" He had to stop talking and start working his crutches to keep up with Rose and the head waiter.
"<Probably memorizes it. Pretty cool that he does that>." Rose caught on to Mike's train of thought, and made sure to reply in Equish. When they reached what was apparently their table, Rose turned to the maitre d' and smiled. "Sorry, we were having sorta private conversation."
"Understandable, madam." The maitre d' moved to the side of the table, then quickly saw his error at having offered Mike the chance to help Rose with her seat. "Please, allow me." Moving fluidly, he helped both Rose and Mike into their seats before resuming his position at the table's side.
"Thanks." Mike hated being helped into his seat, but admitted to himself that it had made getting seated easier. He also appreciated the seats having room for a tail to hang free, especially since he had given up trying to contain his.
"What may we get you? Drinks to start?" The maitre d' gestured to the menus already neatly on each side of the table, between a veritable armory of knives, forks, spoons and what looked like a tiny harpoon.
Mike was so close to asking for wine, but then his conscience thumped him. "Uh, just a water for me." The moment he said it, he saw a smile on Rose's face grow. Of course she couldn't drink, she had to drive.
"Same for me, please." Rose picked up the menu and started looking, even as the waiter glided away. "<I have no idea what half of this stuff is>."
"<Huh>?" Mike picked up his menu and started looking at the names of food. "<We might be in deep water here. What is foie gras>?" He pointed at one of the many dishes. A different waiter had just arrived, and Mike turned his attention to the young woman. "Uh, excuse me?"
Placing two champagne glasses on the table, the waitress started pouring sparkling, clear water into one. "Yes, sir?"
Mike cocked his smile. "I really don't want to look bad in front of my girlfriend."
Cutting in, Rose spoke mostly under her breath. "<What are you up to>?"
"I have no idea what any of this stuff is." Mike pointed one grossly swollen digit at the list of foods. "So if you could explain it to me, that would be great." He saw realization on the waitress' face, he was throwing his own reputation under the bus for Rose's.
Smiling wide at the show of chivalry, the waitress started reading off and explaining dishes. "Of course, sir,"—her gaze landed on the foie gras—"our foie gras is only the finest liver of duck, grown specially to be extremely succulent." She kept going, reading off everything Mike pointed to.
"Okay, well…" Mike looked at Rose. "I am vegetarian…"
"Me too." Staring into Mike's playful eyes, Rose seemed ready to go along with his diet.
"So what would you recommend to someone with an uncultured palate?" Simply closing the menu, Mike turned his attention on the waitress.
The waitress smiled at the compliment to her taste. "Sir, is the dietary requirement a taste issue, or otherwise?"
"Diet," Mike said.
"Taste," Rose said, at the same time. "Uh, let's just go with both being diet."
"Without a doubt, the finest we have with that requirement, is our chef's aubergine caviar." The waitress had to hold up a finger as she explained, to forestall interruptions until the end. "Trust me. I promise there is no actual caviar in it."
"Oh… right, that would be good to start." Mike looked to Rose, and got a nod. "For both of us."
Rose held her tongue until the waitress had departed. "<Part of me really wants to try the real caviar. I guess if I become a bat pony I will eat fruit a lot>?" She looked down at the array of cutlery, and tried not to look concerned about their use—with little success.
"<You could always try it. I just… I have been eating like this for a while. Candela and Misty know about meat, but it just doesn't feel right eating it in front of them>." Mike picked up a tiny, two-pronged fork. "<They really can't see any of this, can they>?" He gestured to his ears.
Reaching out, Rose grabbed Mike's hand back from pointing at his aqua ears. "<Whoa, don't draw attention to it. Remember what you said about your mum? Drawing attention to your changes seems to be how to break the spell, or whatever it is>."
"<Maybe I should have worn my hoodie, or my beanie>." Mike slumped back in his chair, not realizing the waitress was coming back up behind him. The moment she was visible in his peripheral vision, Mike snapped his mouth closed.
"That was quick." Rose looked at the plate laid before her. On the dish was a small bowl of some whitish-gray, dip-like stuff, and arranged around it was various crackers. Dotted between each of the crackers was a little dab of yellow.
"I really have to ask. I have heard all kinds of languages spoken here, and can speak a few passably, but I have never heard anyone speak like you were. Where are you from?" The waitress gave as non-offensive a smile as she could, trying to warm her guests up to answering.
"I'm just a brat from Brisbane." Eyes dancing in delight, Mike gestured to Rose.
Rose smiled and used the same defense as Mike. "Pack-rat from all over, but Melbourne originally."
Mike jumped back in before the waitress could get a word in. "But our school teacher taught it to us. She is from the old country." When he spotted Rose about to crack up laughing, Mike gave her a serious stare.
The waitress blinked a few times in confusion. "Oh… Of course." It took her a moment to shake off the worry that she had been seriously deflected from something simple, but her training kicked in. "Now, would you like to order your entree?"
"Some soup?" Rose gently tapped one of the spoons arrayed before her, one that was clearly a soup spoon.
"We have both a hot and cold soup." The waitress didn't have to look at a menu, she clearly had it memorized. She raised an eyebrow at Mike's unspoken (yet) interest.
"Cold soup?" Mike couldn't keep from asking. "I thought soup was meant to be hot?"
"Our special soup today is gazpacho. Made with cucumber, capsicum, tomato…" Trailing off, the Waitress could see she had a winner already. "Two of?" Rose nodded, leaving the waitress a chance to leave with the order.
From the moment Mike tried the first bit of the caviar, he was hooked on "fancy food."
Their evening progressed, and both Mike and Rose kept the topic to small talk, until desert. With the final course of the night being the most decadent, Mike caught Rose looking at him with an odd expression. "<What's up>?"
Rose shook her head, as if denying something. "<Your eyes seem… bigger>." She didn't even realize that she tilted her head to the side a fraction. "<I guess they are growing to be like a pony's>."
Freezing for a moment, Mike chased the fear from his mind as quickly as it came. "<Things are getting really weird. I get odd cramps, and I'm still getting smaller>."
"<Me too>." Rose glanced down. "<Lot more padding now. And I am… I am changing a little down further, too>." Embarrassment colored Rose's cheeks at revealing some highly personal things, but it was plain to see that at the same time it was a relief.
"<I have… teats>." Giggling a little at his own strange anatomy, Mike deliberately crossed his eyes.
Giggling too, Rose stuck her tongue out. "<My nipples are shrinking. I guess those go south too>?"
"<For a mare. For a stallion, you don't get any>." Mike spooned up some rich vanilla bean ice cream from the edge of his plate, mixed it with some of the hot fruit in the middle and brought it up to his mouth.
"<Have you played with your bits? The new ones, that is>." Emulating Mike's action, Rose scooped up some rich dessert and regretted it not a bit.
Mike nearly sputtered the food. "<What? No>!" Despite the outrage, Rose's words now had him thinking about himself.
"<Now you are thinking about it, aren't you>?" Rose smirked, and fetched another spoon full of dessert.
"<Well duh>." Mike gestured to Rose. "<You said it, now I can't help but think about it. It would be like me asking if you have played with any of your changes, and you focusing on>—"
"Mike!" The moment Rose exclaimed, she clamped a hand over her mouth. Thankfully, the restaurant was mostly empty, but she still blushed scarlet at making a scene. "<Damn you. Now I am>."
"<I'm not going to be male in another week. Another two and I will probably be… Well>…" Mike struggled, still, to finish the statement. "<A mare>."
"<I don't think I am far behind. Maybe a few more weeks and I will… I am growing a penis>." Quickly, Rose stuffed a heaped spoon of dessert into her mouth, and occupied herself chewing.
Mike leaned back in his chair, scooping up a little of the fruit and nibbling on it. Half closing his eyes, he made sure to tilt his head down, then up, putting on a show of checking Rose out. "<Still hot>."
Frozen by the two, simple words, Rose stared back at Mike. She looked into his eyes, and finally blew out a deep breath. "Thanks, I needed that."
"It's true." Mike slid fluidly back to English, following Rose's lead. "Almost makes me want to ask you to do something really stupid."
"How stupid are we talking? You know I love doing stupid things." Cutting off from saying more, Rose smiled up at the waitress.
"Would you like some more drinks? Or can I help you with anything else?" It had been the first time the waitress had returned to the table to hear Mike and Rose speaking English.
"Brandy." Rose turned to look at the waitress. "Two glasses, please."
Mike blinked at the request. "But driving home…?"
"It would be such a shame. We would have to get a taxi, and it would cost as much as a room in a hotel to get home tonight, and then come back again for the car tomorrow." Giving a nod to the waitress, Rose smirked at Mike. "Told you, I love doing stupid things. You were thinking about—"
"<Sex>." Mike spoke the word in Equish. Thankfully for all concerned, it sounded nothing like the English word.
"Yup, that's pretty stupid." Rose smiled as the waitress approached the table with two large glasses containing a tiny amount of drink.
"You didn't say what kind, so I got a Calvados. That is okay?" Seeing and hearing no objections, the waitress departed.
Reaching out for the glass, Rose kept her eyes locked on Mike the whole time. She carefully claimed the drink, and lifted it to her mouth. Coughing at the scent of the potent drink, Rose finally broke eye contact with Mike and tossed the rich apple brandy down her throat.
"I try not to be stupid, but you are a bad influence on me, Rosetta Stein." Mike, unused to strong drinks, claimed his brandy, and gulped it down with alacrity. Struggling against a cough, he felt his throat and mouth grow warm, and was thankful that fur didn't show off a blush. "Now we can both be stupid."
Scooping up the last of her dessert, Rose chased the brandy down with the cool ice cream, and looked at Mike. "And don't you dare ask about the cost. I promised not to, when you paid."
"But you did!" Mike was a few spoonfuls from finishing the final course off, and being a guy was quick to empty the plate. The rich cream mixed with the brandy taste in his mouth and gave Mike the distinct impression that this kind of thing was probably worth whatever Rose didn't want him to find out it cost.
As if she had been lurking, waiting for Mike and Rose to finish their meals and talk of the bill, the waitress appeared with a leather-bound folder, and placed it on the table beside Rose. "I hope you enjoyed your meals."
"We did, thank you." Rose picked up the folder, opened it, and smiled. Reaching into the handbag she had—because of her dress—been forced to bring with her, she pulled out a man's wallet. Flicking through, she pulled out a card and sat it on the folder, then froze.
"Something wrong?" Mike picked up or Rose's worry.
"<How much should I tip>?" Sliding back into Equish, Rose tilted her eyes towards the waitress.
"Well shucks." Grinning wide, Mike turned to look up at the waitress. "Just hypothetical, like, how much would be a typical tip for a wonderful and discrete waitress, and a great meal?"
"Five percent is normally for something nice, up to ten percent shows you really liked the meal. But, I must point out that we are paid to serve everyone to this quality. No tip is required." The waitress sounded like she believed every word of her spiel.
Rose sighed and scribbled something on the pad with a provided pen. "Okay. That should be enough." The waitress only nodded noncommittally, and carried the folder off.
"<What did you tip her>?" The question was eating at Mike, but Rose shook her head at him. "<Spoilsport>."
The waitress was back shortly with a little electronic card machine. Passing it to Rose, the waitress smiled. "If you don't mind me saying, you two are so cute together."
"Uh, thanks." Mike wasn't entirely sure how to take such a compliment, so let it slide awkwardly down the side of the conversation. "I don't suppose you know of a hotel nearby that would have a room free for the night?"
The waitress beamed in delight. "I'll ask Fillip. Would you like him to arrange transport?"
"S-Sure." Rose claimed her card back when the machine chimed that it was done draining her account. She looked at Mike with a silly grin. "I guess we get to be really stupid in style?"
The waitress claimed the machine and retreated. And it took a good few minutes before she returned to find Mike and Rose giggling softly together. "A taxi is waiting." She gave a little bow.
Struggling up onto his crutches, Mike followed the waitress as she led the way to the front of the restaurant. Sure enough, a taxi was waiting patiently. He shot a look to Rose, who shrugged to him. Claiming the nearest side, back seat, Mike waited for Rose to circle around and sit beside him.
"Y-You know where to go?" Rose helped Mike with the seat-belt before taking care of her own.
"Sure. And your ride is paid for. Pretty top place this." The taxi driver jerked his thumb towards the restaurant as he pulled out of the parking lot.
Mike and Rose sat in silence as their chariot bore them to a fancy-looking hotel. Climbing out, Mike felt more nerves rising, although the shot of strong brandy did a good job of taking the edge off them. "<I haven't been with anyone since… since Brisbane>."
"<I haven't>…" Rose let the words hang.
"<We are being idiots>." Mike led the way from where Rose waved to the night admission and got a key.
"<Yeah. Stupid idiots. You have seen the ads and stuff about this>?" Despite her tone of self-defeat, Rose was still walking beside Mike.
They reached the room that had been booked by the maitre d', and Rose used the key-card to open the door. Fumbling at the lights, she barely got the door closed before leaning against Mike to kiss him.
Mike, barely balanced on his crutches, started to fall back. "Hey!" But strong arms caught him, pulled him back upright and against Rose. He could see the double bed over Rose's shoulder, and dropped the crutches. "Carry me, Smithers!"
Rose lose control of a serious case of giggles, but bracing her arms around Mike, she lifted him up and onto one shoulder. "You asked for it." She ignored the weakly kicking legs, and dumped Mike onto the bed. "Now, where was I?"
Soft lips touched Mike's, and he could see Rose's face scrunch up a little at kissing furry lips. "If this is too weird I—" He was silenced, and Rose climbed up and braced a leg each side of him as she kneeled over Mike. His lips were free, and he was just about to comment on how sexy Rose looked, when he spotted something in her eyes.
"I…" Rose stumbled on her words. Something had stalled in the "stupid" idea, and things crashed around her. "I don't—" Mike pulled at her, but rather than pulling her atop him, he brought Rose down to his side.
"It's okay." Mike smiled, and a part of him was relieved. "We aren't so stupid after all, I guess." The words earned him a hug, and fully clothed, they snuggled together until neither could keep their eyes open anymore.
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Aww, they should have at least gotten undressed and examined the transformation.
Even if actual sex would be stupid.
Stop poaching my actors! Beside, you don't wanna know what it cost to hire him for a week. All I can say is that the harness pinches if it isn't tight.
Awe man! The stupid ran out! We demand partial refund!
You know, the "you're cute together" comment reminded us, what happens to visual recorded media with regards to the glamour magic? Hmmm...
To Rose: now many diamonds, do you think?
Keep going! ;)
maitre'd - maître d'
dob of yellow - dab of yellow
band influence - bad influence
Feels like it's been ages since I've commented, but I'm still in love with this story and happy to see it continue!
I had to look up calvados, but you did a good job of explaining what it is—apple brandy. I'm betting the waitress brought them a mid-range example as the prices can go from bottom-shelf to insanely expensive.
Also:
Fancy indeed to have an escargot fork as part of the standard table setting.
Kids... you're supposed to sip it.
I was once told by a native that it was insulting to the waitstaff in Australia to tip. Granted that it was 20 years ago, has that changed?
8425985 All fixed, thanks.
This (imaginary) place was a very upmarket restaurant, probably the finest in Traralgon (which, if you have ever been there, isn't saying a lot). I don't know as I have been anywhere where leaving a tip was a bad thing. I haven't eaten quite as high as these two were, however, so that might be different. A friend gave me advice on mid-high end places, and he said he usually leaves a 5% tip.
Calvados is very strong. I had me a "bottom shelf" bottle of it, that still ran over $50AUD, and oh my was it good stuff. At one point I mixed it with ginger beer, and the combination of dry apple and ginger was both amazing, and terrible. Terrible because 10 seconds after you had some, you couldn't %#&*$*%ing well taste it anymore.
Dropping a high-percentage alcohol like that is never clever, but as they both said, they were being stupid. Snails as a meal were not mentioned by the waitress, because of Mike's request for vegetarian.
it looks as if Mike and Rose are dealing with there change rather well but as that are both going threw it together i can see a super strong bond forming.
as super good chapter i love it.
In Canada, 10% - 15% tipping is the norm. But then, there's no way a hotel room would be as cheap as a half-hour cab ride. So, swings and roundabouts, etc.
8426017
That tipping advice is pretty solid in Europe. Any tip at all tells them you liked the service, and 10% is generous.
9069633 Indeed. Keep in mind that minimum wage here in Australia is around $16 an hour. A waitress at the lowest end place you're ever likely to visit doesn't need tips to earn a living.
If they both change gender then it will at least not give problems for a relationship between the 2 of them. I personally hope that they will get together as an item.
9149151 The issue is that Mike likes girls and Rose likes guys. Swapping sexes doesn't mean the person's sexual alignment changes.
Never tried Calvados myself but as a person with a shall we say curious palate I want to expand my knowledge.
This past April I purchased a bottle of yellow chartreuse liqueur for around 50 or 60 USD. The store has an incredible selection from super cheap canned drinks to a special display case with TOP top-shelf selection including (or so I was told) a bottle of champagne priced at $1-2k USD. Heh, send that to Princess Celestia with my regards.
It's an insult in that it implies that you don't care about your work enough that you need extra incentive to do it.
You essentially suggested that they have bad work ethics.
the source of this feeling can be different between people, the two I know of from my uncle and another from a friends dad: (these ideas all predate the modern knowlege of how impoverished the service industry workers on the United States actually are.
1. It comes from a (rellatively old) idea that Americans all hate their jobs and won't actually put effort into it unless paid direclty but the person they're are serving. The more money, the more effort. (lazyness)
2. The worker was hussleing for extra over what the company is already paying, implying some form of bribary. The wait staff were more open to being paid for extra, or preferential, services. ( corruption)
3. (just got this one from dad while i was writing this.) The company baits the customer in with dirt-cheap prices only to have the wait staff push for a tip to get the actual price of the meal back up to, and sometimes higher than, the competitors. so the resteraunt keeps the tip and not the waiters. (dishonesty)
11624399 I know this. I live here.
That said, high-end establishments will generally allow for tipping.