> The Midnight Pony
>  by Ponyess
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Introduction
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I am a Midnight Pony, about two foot tall.  At first glance, you could compare me with a Gargoyle.  Just that this is wrong.

Back then, I saw everything around me; while the conditions disallowed me to recall anything from that time. Thankfully.

Life in a plastic box is barren; devoid of life and everything one needs to stay alive.  Even to one such as I, this is very unforgiving.  Such a life is no real life, pretty maddening, when you stop to think about it.





While I do no longer recall the day you liberated me, from that horrid situation; helping me out into the fresh air and open space with actual air to breathe.  My memory is still hazy and scattered, even after the time I have been spending outside that box.

My first clear memory, is the sun going up and down in the sky each day; yet the clearest and fondest memory, is your face.  How could I not love the smile on your face; as you finally had the chance to liberate me from that package?  Of course, you still do keep that plastic package.  My name, clearly to be red; Midnight Sparkles.  Just as the image  of me still is clearly recognizable, with that deep indigo body and the bright spark on my flank.





“Daisies!” I ponder; “What I would not give, for just a few Daisies!” I continue.

“Oh, yes; Haycart, explained just how to get to where I want to go!” I recall; “If I can’t tell her directly, maybe I could see her through that book she is keeping on her night stand!”  I ponder.

I experience a flash of light, just before I find myself within the book.

“Daisies!” I write.

Then I draw a small vase, with a few Daisies in it.  Just the Daisies in the vase, no colour and nothing else.  No details, just a simple picture, for her to figure out what I wanted.





Late, at night; she picks up her diary, opening it before she intends to write down the passing thoughts of the day.

“Daisies!” she reads.

“That’s odd, I know I did not draw or write that the other day!” she exclaims.  (As if she had expected anyone to hear her, and answer?  Me, to be exact.)

“Who?  Who wrote that?” she ponders.

Naturally, she does not recognize my horn writing.  While I can write perfectly readable, and she can clearly read the word perfectly fine.

For just an instant, she imagines she is seeing a face.  The mare winking at her.  Of course, that mare is me.  Only she does not have the time, to recognize me in that one instant.





Drawing a picture of daisies does not seem like a very big accomplishment?  It is still changing me, and my life.  Of course, it is not in drawing the picture in her diary; that is the real change, but the fact that I even have the option to move this far in the first place.  I am no longer the mere doll, of figurine she thought she had been given.

I have realized myself, in a way to make certain I am actually alive.  I have awarded her, for liberating me from that horrid prison in which I had been trapped.  For how long I had been trapped, who knows?  I have no memory, and no physical evidence of how long I had been sentient and aware.  My first memories are from outside of that plastic box, after all.

While I am still incapable of any true communication, or interaction with her in the real world; I am still free to think and feel, like any other real person would be.

As brief as my visit into her diary may have been, but I do believe that I have left some kind of an imprint into the fabric of that book.  This is not just because it is the first book I ever visited, in this fashion.  My understanding of the method may be limited, but I am not entirely senseless.  Maybe this will affect each and every new book I visit, or it may increase or decrease with my level of experience and understanding.  I do not know, and I do not care to know.

What I do care about, is that I gave her a glimpse into who I am.  I gave her something, as small and insignificant as it may have been; just as I permitted her to see me, in a way more significant than she thought could be possible.

She may not yet know who wrote the work in her diary, but in time she will get to know me.  The real me, not just the character and the plastic doll before her.

I am a Pony, even as I am trapped within the confines of the plastic that makes up my entire body; but I still need, and crave the companionship.  Just like any other pony or person ever would.





The word; “Gargoyle”, comes to mind.  I am like one of them.  I am chained to the plastic within which I am currently contained, able to act only under the cover of the darkness of the night.

That word does not sooth me, as it sends down shivers down the entire length of my spine.

I am a Pony, and that is the life I should live.  Isn’t it?  While I do not quite know or understand what a Pony is, or how her life is supposed to turn out; it is the life I should have.

If I am a Pony, is that not just a small Horse?  No, I am not.  A horse is a domesticated Animal you keep in a barn and lets out to grace in the pasture with other Horses.

I am sentient, just like any Human around me.  What that means, I have no idea as of yet.  Should I care, or worry?

Of course; aside from the differences in the body, I also have my magic like any other Unicorn.


---   ---   ---

> A Gifted Pony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

My parents gave me this really large Pony doll, just a short while ago.  It is something parents are known to do, and they need no justification for doing so.  If they had explained it to me, back then; it would just have ruined the moment and made me worry.  What’s the point in doing that?

She looks like a regular plastic doll, with the fiber hair that feels almost real.  While she may be darker than the common Pony of her kind, I still do love her to bits; if you accept the unintended pun, there.

She gave me this apprehensive excitement, right away.  She did feel slightly warmer than I had been expecting, but that may just be my imagination.  I also have the feeling, she is watching me.  It is not as if her eyes move, to follow me everywhere I go.  That would just have been silly.





I may be a little girl, and I do play with my dolls; but I am not that little.  I gave up on all these silly ideas about the stories I was told.  I do not believe the dolls are real and alive, but they still are fun to play with.  I do not rip their heads off of them, or pull their hair off; just because they are not real or alive.  Maybe the head could be put back, but why do I have to pull it off of her in the first place?

I am a nice girl, who enjoys playing with my friends and my toys.  What’s up with that?  Does this make me into a freak, or a Monster?

I do not know if other girls are writing in their diaries, but I still do it.  I imagine some kids do, while others do not.  Who am I to care?  I do it, because I can and because I enjoy it.  Do I need another reason?





This doll is huge, even for a Pony; yet, she is still heavy.

“What is the wight of a Soul?  Why do I have that impression, right now?” I ponder.

Of course, I could not ask my parents.  Who was I to ask, if I was to ask anyone?  I do not know.  Maybe it is for the better, if I kept these questions to myself?  At least, until I know there is a reason to ask?  Just that I do not know, how could I possibly know?

“The package is beautiful!  I just can’t throw it away!” I ponder, as I place it in my wardrobe.

I had to place her by the side of my bed, the room is not very big.  I placed her by the side, facing towards me.  It just feels right.

“I swear, sometimes she is actually smiling at me.  As if she is happy, enjoying to see me safely sleeping!” I ponder.

I know she is a doll, a toy; yet I am compelled to refer to her by her given name.  Midnight Sparks.  Though I make due with her first name, Midnight.

Familiarity, the familiarity of a friend.  Shouldn’t it be?  Should there be no friendship?

A friend, the one friend you know will not turn around and abandon you; for anything, or anyone.  This is the offer, I simply could not refuse.  How could I?  This is no joke.  Just one honest truth I have to face.

Had they known what she was, would they have bought her and given her to me?  I dare not ask.  I barely dare considering the question, in brief moments at a time.

Of course, I could not ask her.  Would she even know the answer?  Do I want to know, if she knew and answered me?  Do I even want to contemplate this?

She may be a Pony, but she still is my friend.  She will not turn away.  Neither could I.

This had been nothing more than a strange, eerie feeling, at first.

From there, I started to feel; as if she is not standing in the exact position, where I had left her the night before.  Or, she is standing in a different pose.  Silly?  Impossible?  It should have been.  Even the fantasy of a girl, could not make a doll move in the slightest.  She was never that kind of doll, in the first place.

I had told my diary, because I trust in it.  I know it can’t betray me.  A mere book can’t act on its own, no matter what.

Of course, the Diary had been the perfect place to put these notions and thoughts.  I write it down, leaving the image in the book; then I could leave it at that, forgetting the entire affair.  No need, or point; in worrying, or ask others.  What good would that have made me, anyway?

A diary is safe.  It is suposed to, since it never judges you for anything.  No matter what.

I never needed to have a lock on my diary, I knew none ever were to read it.  None, other than possibly me.  I am the only one even casting it a second glance.  Until now.

I guess, technically speaking; no-one has opened the book.  While one Pony has been taking a peek, into the book.  I do not know how, or why.  Why?  How does one even take a peek into a book, without even cracking the covers open?  The book had never been touched by another hand.

It is late, and I open my diary.  I flip through the pages, page by page; just as I use to.  I always did this.  Not so much as a reminder, I have no reason to fear I have forgotten anything.

There it is, the last entry I wrote; just the other day, but now something is different.  A new entry has been written.

“Daisies!” I read.

If I had not known better, I would have screamed, I would have been screaming right now.  I am not screaming, obviously.  If I had been my parents would have been scrambled, knocking on my door just an instant later.  It is the way parents are wired.  They care, and thus they will make sure you are all right.

If you are screaming, something is wrong.  The time of day, or night is irrelevant in this case.

On a second glance, there is a drawing of the daisies in a vase under the written word.

“Oh, Daisies!” I ponder.

“Someone would like for me to have a few daisies in a vase, just like that one!” I ponder.

“Daisies!” I mouth, without realizing it.

“Yes, Daisies!  Daisies are pretty, and tasty!” a voice responds.

I pick up the pen, associated to the diary; only to notice a strange, faint star-like glow to the page upon which I am about to write the new entry.

“That is curious!” I ponder, as I realize that the pen is tinted slightly towards the hue of my Pony.

I may, or may not have a few regular Pony dolls or figurines.  This changes nothing, in this situation.

I feel excited, to the point where I almost forget just how tired I am.  I put pen, to paper.




“Dear Diary!

This just proved to be a very interesting day, right now!

I may need to acquire a few Daisies, and fill a vase with water and place it on my nightstand!”

Should I pick a few in the garden, or could I buy them in the shop in town?”



“Oh, well; that was the oddest entry I ever written in my diary!" I ponder.

"Good thing, none will ever read this!” I continue.

Just as I look up, I think I see the Pony wink at me.  She then nods, in confirmation.

“I am seeing things, or I am already dreaming!” I ponder, humoring myself.

“I really do need my sleep, I should go to bed!” I tell myself.

“Yes, you should!” I hear a voice answering.

“Yes!  Thanks!” I respond.

She nods.

“You may be more comfortable, if you slip out of these clothes; before you go to bed!” she then adds.

“Probably!” I mumble, as I slip out of my bed and raise to my feet.

Now I just need a pair of fresh panties, before I can go to sleep!” I point out.

I manage to slip the shirt of, before I slip the skirt down.  I manage to toss the used clothes into the bucket.

“Fresh panties, yes!” I hear her respond, stifling a faint giggle.

I pull my socks off of my feet and slip my old and used panties down, leaving them to be washed.

 	I extract a pair of clean, fresh and white panties.  Only returning to my bed, once I had managed to slip the panties on.

“There, ready for bed!” she points out.

“Did I actually hear her voice?  Or, am I imagining everything?” I ponder.

But, there is no response.

Maybe I had been imagining it, because a hallucination could have responded to my thoughts as easily as it is responding to what I say.

Then again; I am tired, and it is indeed late.  Very late.  At least, it is for me.

I notice a faint glow, on or around her horn; she lifts up the quilt for me, just before I slip down onto my bed.

I notice that the quilt slowly slips down over me in an exaggeratedly gentle motion.  I just do not react upon it, almost as if it had been expected.  Though I could have been ignorant, to the effect.

“Sleep tight, and sweet dreams!” she exclaims, just as I lay my head on the newly fluffed up pillow.

“Sleep tight, and sweet dreams!” I respond,, just as I close my eyes.

“See you tomorrow!” I ponder, just as I am slipping of and floating off into sleep.

As I am falling asleep, she steps forwards and muzzle me; not sure if I am noticing it:  She is just doing it, because it felt right to her at the time.

Indeed, maybe it was.


---   ---   ---

> One Night, just the One Night on the Loose
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I feel alive, indeed I feel alive.

I have been stiff, for as long as I can remember; knowing that is how I have been, from the very first day.

While I would have loved, for this to be relaxing, but this is not the origin to what I am feeling.

“Is this how Love feels or tastes?” I ponder.

Had I been a true Changeling, I would have known.  Had I been this would have been the natural reaction to the exposure to that love.

To me, it is different; very different, indeed.

If love has anything to do with it, but it is traced back to the changes in my surroundings.  The girl is indeed a part of this.  If only I could put a hoof to exactly how she is affecting me.





I may have been able to move around in the room, at night; now I could step forwards, to the point I could muzzle her good night.  It is not even Mid-Night yet.

While I know she had seen me move, and even heard me speaking; but there is no way around it, I had to step up and address her.  It is in my nature.  She is after all the girl, who liberated me

I guess I should be thankful, which I am; even if I would never have known, or even realize what a bad place I had been in.  That situation had been a mixed blessing, or curse.

First now, I am truly seeing the room in which I had found myself.  The room is small, even for me.  There is room for her bed and a bed stand of course.  This is after all her bed room.

The floor had been laid with a fairly silly and pointless plastic carpet; this just would not make due.  Could I change it?  Wood, or stone would have been a decided improvement.  It is a room, indoors.

“I could fix the floor, for her!” I tell myself”; “But, if anything went wrong; she may never forgive me, ever again.  After everything she has done for me, I could not take that!” I ponder.        

Of course, what had she done for me?

“Do I dare, entering her bed; resting by her feet, while I wait?” I ponder.

The bed does indeed look very comfortable; not just going by how she sleeps.  While I do enjoy my current level of flexibility and freedom, I still do wait for the hour of mid-night.  Maybe I can draw upon the comfort of the closeness to her, while I wait for the opportunity?

For a moment, I hesitate while I am watching he; as she is slowly slipping into sleep, before my very eyes.  Just watching her, where she lies in her bed.

Just as she is falling asleep; I make up my mind, lifting my hoof up and feeling the soft quilt.

After a few minutes, I climb up onto the bed, laying down by her feet.

While I wait; I draw in the scent of her, with each breath I take.  I close my eyes, reaching out to feel the moment and to detect when it is right to move.

Tick, tock; tick, tock.  Time slips by, second by second; while I rest and enjoy the moment for as long as it may last.

Just as midnight hits home, I feel how all my current bonds evaporates like mist under the scorching sun in the middle of the day.  For just a moment, I relish in the liberating sensation.  I raise to my hooves and jump down onto the floor beside her bed; casting a glance, appreciating the love I feel emanating from her.  Is this how I am even free to move?

As I touch down onto the floor, I turn around and plant a kiss on her forehead, leaving a warm, wet and glistering mark.  I see the mark, feeling her even deeper for a short moment, knowing the sign for what it is.  While she may be asleep, she still shows all the signs of her affection for me. She warms my heart and strengthen me with her compassion.

I step out onto the middle of the floor, turning away from her.  Now I light my horn; feeling the small orb of magical light at the tip of my horn.  I feel the orb grow in size and intensity as the orb slowly grows in size.

At the given point, the light starts flowing down the entire length of my horn, like an avalanche.  I feel the light flowing down along the spirals of my horn, all the way down to my forehead.  As the light hits my forehead, it spreads outwards.

I focus, levitating myself from the floor.  Once I am an inch above the floor, I continue to lift her bed, the nightstand and the desk up.  From there, I lift up an object at the time until nothing is touching the floor.  There is a flash, as the floor is changing. Once the floor turns from plastic into stone as I desire; I let each object down once more.  The spell is complete and I can sigh in relief from my accomplishment.

There is a clopping sound, as my hooves hit the smooth and glossy surface of the floor in her room.

“Clip, clop!” I ponder.

I look around the room, for a moment; enjoying and praising the effect of my accomplishment.

“Much better!” I point out, quietly.

“No, I did not wake her up.  Thank Celestia!” I mumble.

I take a step, then another and another.  The smooth stone feels nice under my hooves as I slowly trot around the room.

“This does feel just great!” I ponder, just as I stop beside her bed.

After a moment of consideration, I end up climbing up onto her bed.  I move to the same place where I had been resting, lying down as if I was trying to rest.  I close my eyes.

“Maybe I could sleep?” I ponder.

“Though, I could give her a small gift, before I get ahead of myself!” I ponder.

I light up my horn and conjure up the gift in the form of a lip-gloss, hoping she will like the gift.  Nothing fancy, just a clear lip-gloss.  No colour and no flavour or scent.  I had the idea that it is better to go with something simple to start out with.

I morn grows dark and I relax.  I draw in a breath, hold it and release it after a moment.  I feel very relaxed.  Maybe I could indeed sleep.


---   ---   ---

> Good Morning
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Light from outside is slowly seeping into the room, as the sun is raising on the sky.  I feel light.  There is as clear indention of something resting at the foot end of my bed.

Wait, I don’t have a dog!” I ponder.

I open my eyes, blink; once, twice, thrice.  I did indeed have no dog.  Thought something, or someone is still resting at the foot end of my bed.    As a matter of fact, she is still there.

 	It’s not just anything, or anyone; this is Midnight Sparks.  Just that she is looking so much more animated, than I had been used to see her.  I still do recall, when I first opened the package within she had been kept; she had a rather bland expression on her face, back then.  Now she is smiling, happily.

“Good morning!” she exclaims, looking intently at me, with obvious joy on her face.

“Good morning!” I respond.

“I am dreaming!” I ponder; “But, I can’t be rude!” I continue.

Nonetheless, I grin happily.  If she had jumped up into the bed; she would warm my heart, just as she is warming my bed.

“Wait, she could lie down in my bed all along!” I ponder; “I must still be dreaming!” I continue.

Then I just continue to grin, enjoying the moment for all it is worth.  I could as well enjoy myself, as long as the dream persists.  If it proves to be true, and I am awake; I have lost nothing, by enjoying it.

“I certainly can’t command her to jump down from my bed!  I have not told her she can’t sleep in my bed, and I do enjoy the company!” I ponder.

“Maybe I should explore this dream, and see where it takes me!” I ponder; “Though I will have to slip out of bed, first!” I continue.

With that, I fold the quilt up towards the bed, slip my feet out and sit up in my bed.  From there, I push myself over the edge, slip down onto the floor and stand up.

“Ooh!” I exclaim, as I feel the smooth stone floor under my feet.

“Yes, this is definitely a dream!” I ponder; “But, I think I do like where this is going!” I point out.

“Thank you!” she responds.

While the black stone tiles are smooth and a bit slippery at first; I think they are warm and comforting.

“You are quite welcome!” I mumble, giggling.

“I like being welcome!” she points out, giggling; “This just may be why I can still move, this late in the day?” she ponders.

“Daylight has always been my bane and curse!” she ponders, remembering a glimpse of who she had been in her former existence.

She had been a mere doll; no friends and none to care for or about her.  A doll can not move, in daylight; when someone or some pony can see her.  A doll is still, motionless, with no memory and no personality.  This is the order of things, how it has been from the beginning of time and will be to the very end.  It can be no other way.

A companion, and compassion had loosened the bonds and shackles holding Midnight Sparks.  That is the love freeing her from what she had been, and can never become again.

I turn around, looking at her, squinting in the light of day.

“Is that really you?” I inquire, challenging my situation and perception.

“Yes, this is me; Midnight Sparks!” she responds.

I watch her taking a step towards me.  She is taking another step, and another.  I find her standing before me, on my bed.

There is a large indent, where her body had been resting during the night; and a small one where her hoof had just left the quilt, as she moves towards me.  I find it fascinating, to see her move towards me.  She is my friend and companion.  Why do I bother with silly little details, like the fact that she is a pony and was a doll when I got her?

In the end, she stops at the edge of the bed; looking at me, smiling warmly.

She just stands there, looking at me; then she looks up and meet my gaze and smiles.

I reach out my right hand, absentmindedly reaching for her and pat her on the head; before I scratch her behind the ear.  She does not seem to mind, for all I can see.  She does not say anything.

I withdraw my hand and take a step to the right.  She shifts her gaze and appraise the distance, before she jumps down from the bed.  I hear a distinct, jolly squeak from her hooves, as she hits the stone floor.

She looks down at her hooves, curious; then grins widely and once more looks up at me.

“You like how the floor feels, under your hooves?” I inquire.

She nods, smiling up at me; “Yes!” she then exclaims.

“That is good, me too!” I respond with a silly grin over my face as I giggle at the situation.

Of course, this is supported by the sense of being in a dream.  Just the fact that my toy Pony moves and talks to me.  Add the change in the room, and it is very exciting.  At least, to me it is.

“Maybe I don’t even want to wake up, from this dream!” I ponder.

Now, had it truly been the dream, I thought it was; Midnight Sparks would have explained, how it is no dream.  She did not.  In fact, she is not reacting on my thoughts at all.

When I touched her head; it did not exactly feel like either plastic of fabric, but rather a strange sense of a fur with strangely rubbery smooth qualities.  I can’t quite put a finger to how it feels, while I can touch her body as easily as I could touch my own.  I still feel that light pinkish skin, when I do.

Then again, I am naked; wearing nothing, but a pair of panties and a top.  Just that clean, bright white cotton.  The clothes are no longer as fresh, as they had been as I slipped into them the other night.  I always wear these white panties and tops in bed, though.

Now I need to slip into fresh clothes, before I leave my room.  Since she is a Pony, and nude; I don’t need to worry, or be shy around her.  She does not care about the item of nudity, in the first place.

“I am hungry, I think I will need to put something fresh on and go out to have breakfast!” I mumble.

“While I don’t need to wear anything, even if I had clothes to wear; but, I am starting to feel a bit hungry!” she responds.

She clearly heard what I had just said, making the point out of understanding it in her response.

“This almost feels like having a sister!” I ponder, upon hearing her speak.

At least, I do not feel like having my own room, separate from hers.  I guess that is convenient.

I open the door to the wardrobe, before I slip my panties down, pick them up and leave then in the wash bi.  Once the panties are off, I pull the top up over my head, and throw it into the wash bin  right over my panties.

Securely nude, I look at the clothes I have at my disposal.  I pick up a pair of brightly cerise panties, stepping right into them.  I only give them a few tentative tugs, making sure they are on just right.

Once the panties sit on comfortably; I pick up the matching top, slipping it down over my head.  I afford the time to give it a few tentative tugs, in order to make it sit just right.

“There, that wasn’t so hard?” she teases me, giggling at me from behind.

“No!” I respond; “I guess it wasn’t!” I continue.

Now I pick up a skirt, stepping into it.  With a few more tentative tugs, the skirt fits me.  I pick up a shirt, slipping it down over my head; feeling the soft cotton fabric against my skin.  Not too tight and revealing; that would be inappropriate, for a girl my age.

“Maybe a pair of socks, too?” I mumble.

“At least, I do not need to wear shoes, indoors!” I ponder.

Just as I reach for a pair of matching ankle socks, I see a flash of light from Midnight’s position.  The next instant, a pair of toe socks appear beside the once I had set my eyes on.

“Toe socks are just right for you!” she points out, and I nod.

As I pick up the socks, I notice the mate black rubber under the sole of the foot; aiding in my footing, as I am wearing these socks.

I pick up the socks, left and right; slipping my feet in, as I picked it up.  Once more, I afford the socks a few tentative tugs, in order, for the socks to sit just right.

“Comfortable, quite comfortable!” I purr, as I am about to close the door to the wardrobe.

“These look interesting, but I will pass that up for now. I could try them out, later!” I mumble, indicating the thigh-high hoof stockings she had produced for me, as an alternative.

“These look interesting, but I will pass that up for now. I could try them out, later!” I mumble, indicating the thigh-high hoof stockings she had produced for me, as an alternative.

“These regular looking socks will do just fine, for indoors use!” I point out.

“Yes, of course; but, I could as well make something fun to show you have much I appreciate you and your company!” she merely responds.

“Thanks!” I respond; “I’m looking forwards to see more of that!” I continue.

She smiles at me, and I close the wardrobe.

“I’m starving, maybe you would follow me out; I need something to eat!” I point out.

“Thank you, that would be most appropriate!” she responds.

“By the way, if you can conjure up a pair of socks for me; could you conjure up a set of shoes for yourself, too?” I inquire.

“That could be fun!  Thank you, for asking!” she responds.

I see her horn flare up, and a set of golden rubber shoes appear on her hooves.

“Let’s go, I need my breakfast, and so do you!” I point out.

I walk over to the door and open it.  She follows me out and push the door shut with her left hind hoof.

“I could get used to these socks, remind me to thank her for them again!” I ponder, as I continue to walk.

There is a slight hint of a squeak with each step I take, that only punctuate my comfort.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” her hooves squeak, with each step she takes, as she is following me towards the kitchen, where the promise of breakfast looms.


---   ---   ---

> My very own Room
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

”Thank you, the Oat is delicious!” I promptly exclaim.

“Only the best, is good enough for you!” she responds, grinning warmly at me.

“Thank you!” I point out.

“You are quite welcome, dear sister!” she responds.

With that, we leave the kitchen and walks back to the room. I follow her, like a puppy.  She does not need a leash, or a collar.  I simply follow happily, as she walks back to her room.  Okay, it is our room, for now.  I live there too, after all.

As she reaches the door, she opens and steps inside.  I step in and kick the door closed behind myself.  Kind of like a puppy, I guess.

Once the door is closed behind me, I am alone with her.  We can have privacy, where no one else sees or hears what we are doing.  Or, what I am about to do.

Of course, it is not as if I am to harm the girl.  She is my friend.  She liberated me, after she helped me out of the plastic container that had imprisoned me, for Celestia knows how long.  Maybe it is a blessing, I have no memory of the time.  I can’t recall a single instant of the time.





For a moment, I had stopped.  I can see her continuing into the small room.  I scan the room, watching everything.  A bed and a nightstand.  A desk and the accompanying chair.  There is a window and the door to the wardrobe.  What had I been expecting, this is after all a fairly small room.

The clothes are hanging in the wardrobe, and a few boxes of toys are stored in there, on the floor.

“Why do I recognize these faces?” I ponder, as I notice a few Pony figurines.

These are merely pi inches high plastic dolls, of course.  Yet, these are the friends from Equestria.  Some of them are quite famous, for one reason or the other.  It is kind of as if these had been three dimensional paintings hanging on the wall.  Only now, they are reduced into toys for a girl.

“Are they alive?  Trapped in the plastic, just as I was?” I ponder.

Either way, they are too small to live in this world.  Smaller than the mouse one would have in a cage.

“Maybe they could live in a doll-house?” I ponder.

Of course, she does not own a doll-house.  She clearly did not play with dolls in that size.  She does not even have a house from the series.  One of these plastic accessories the dolls could come with.

I light up my horn and create a door by the side of her wardrobe.  The door looks like the one we just came through.

“I will have to hide the door, before anyone else finds it, though!” I ponder.

“Oh!” she exclaims; “Where did the door come from?” she then inquires.

“I just painted it there, with magic!”  I point out, matter of fact.

“Oh!” she exclaims; “She is a Unicorn!” she giggles.

“Open the door, please!” I suggest.

“Okay!” she responds; quietly opening the door, chancing a peek into the room behind.

I follow her towards the door, puffing her in order to inspire her and motivate her to step inside.





“This is out home!  Have a look and explore!” I pronounce.

“Our home?” she inquires.

“Yes, exactly!” I respond.

“You really do like that black rock!” she points out.

“It is good, for the floor of the hall!” I point out.

Of course, there is a door to the girl’s and mare’s room respectively, to the right and left.  We do not need somewhere to hang up outdoors clothes, shoes or umbrellas here.

The first door leads to her bed room.  It contains a bed, a nightstand, and a desk.  She does have a wardrobe and a book case as well.  Incidentally, my room is furnished the same way.

The floor is laid with dark beech wood, while the wall is laid with pink cherry wood.  Why not just make it as pretty as possible?

“You don’t need to wash your clothes, while we are at home!” I point out.

Opposite her room, we have the playroom.  There is a desk, where the doll house stands to the right of the door.  There is a book case to the right of the desk.  Incidentally, the doll house is empty; since we have no dolls to fill it with.

To the left of the door, the wardrobes are.  The doors are closed and the wardrobes are empty.  I have not filled them up with anything yet.

Opposite my room, there is a room with double bed inside.  Only a bed stand on each side.  This is for just spending quiet time together.  We can rest side by sides.  Like sisters or friends.

“Ooh!  How adorable!” I hear her exclaim, as she finds the dolls on her desk.

Aside from the obvious; there are Derpy Whooves, the mail-mare and Dr. Whooves, Starlight Glimmer, Octavia and Vinyl Scratch as DJ Pone Free.  Only now, they are humans and not the version from the Equestria Girls or any less than canon reiteration.  Canon, is cannon to me; the Ponies, is the best canon.  At least, that is my view on the matter.

On second thought; I feel like having a change of clothes, swapping the boots for a vest and skirt.

I step up to my wardrobe and opens the door, before I slip out of the shoes and place them at the floor of the small space inside the wardrobe.

“There, that feels good!” I ponder.

It is not that I don’t like the shoes, or how it feels to wear them.  Just that I feel like being bare hoofed, right now.  Maybe it is more intimate, closer to her?

I choose the black skirt and pull it out from the wardrobe, stepping into it and pulling it up.  Just like her; I give the skirt a few tentative tugs, in order to assure myself that perfect and comfortable fit.  Naturally, I use magic; since I do not have hands and nimble fingers.

“Maybe I should tease her, inciting her to wear a pair of gloves?” I ponder.

Now I choose a saddle, without saddle-bags; pull it out and step into it.  I give it a few tentative tugs, making it fit just right.

“Or, I could let her try out a range of accessories; that would make even Rarity blush?” I consider.

Since I am happy with the change of garments, I step back and close the door behind myself.  I turn towards the door and walks out.

    “Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear, as my hooves hit the floor as I trot.


---   ---   ---

> At Midnight's Cottage
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I enter the room, she had placed my bed in.  The room, Midnight had set up for me.  I could not help but notice the bed, the desk and the night stand.  I have the same set of dolls on my desk, here, as I have on the desk in my room; only these are Humans, as opposed to the Ponies in my room.  Okay, my other room.

“Ooh!  How adorable!” I exclaim, as I find the dolls on my desk.

Once I had ogled at the dolls, for a moment, I turn towards the wardrobe.  My wardrobe.  The rest of the room does not scream for attention.  A closed door, require a moment of exploration, I have to open the door so I can see what is inside.  I must trust Midnight at least that much.  Why else would I enter the room with her.  Even if she currently is in the other room.

Shirts, skirts, bodies and bathing suits are all hanging from the top of the wardrobe.  Gloves and stockings also hang in the wardrobe.

I have the panties and tops on a shelf in the middle of the wardrobe.

“Wait, there are the tights, too!” I ponder.

“These are exactly like the stockings she gave me; still remaining in the other wardrobe!  Maybe I should try them out, now!” I consider.

I ogle the mainly pinkish, skin-tone rubber garments for a moment, before I am picking them up.

“Yes, I should definitely try these on!  Even if I need to pull my socks of before I could slip these on!” I mumble.

Pulling the socks of, is not hard.  They do not resist and I can easily slip my fingers in to slide them down.  No resistance, none whatsoever.
"That feels a bit strange!” I ponder, as the socks had just slipped of my naked skin.

Had I grown so used to wearing these socks, I need to get used to not wearing them?  That is odd, odd indeed.

I had slipped the socks of and taken a moment to explore and contemplate how it feels to be barefoot; after I had been wearing the socks Midnight had given me.  Strangely enough, the longer I stay barefoot; the stranger and more uncomfortable it is feeling.

I take the chance, slipping the right stocking on, feeling the smooth and tight stocking on.  The tightness is constricting as my foot slips all the way to the very end.

I look at my foot, in the stocking.  My leg had not really changed, but I now have a hoof at the end of the leg.  I giggle.

Since the tightness makes it feel good, I continue.  I slip my left foot into the remaining stocking.  I give the stockings a few tentative tugs; making sure they are sitting just right.

"Strange, but this does feel good!" I realize, almost despite myself.

The stockings are a light pinkish, skin-tone hue, while the hooves are the same cerise as the panties I wear.

“Curious!” I mumble.

I am standing up on my own two hooves, but it is almost as if I am standing on the tips of my toes.  Yet, this does feel natural to me; almost as if I had been born, like this.

I take a moment to explore the situation, the change the stockings have imparted me with.  I feel the smooth and almost slippery rubber, under my bare hands.  My skin is still just as warm and sensitive, as it had been before.

“Should I be delighted, or frightened?” I ponder, as I consider my situation.

“Maybe I should just enjoy myself, for as long as this lasts?  Maybe I wake up and everything was just a dream?” I continue.

I take a step back and close the door to the wardrobe behind myself.  There is a squeaking noise from my hoof.  I will just have to get used to these noises, when I am walking around in the room.  Then again, I am sharing the room with Midnight.  I am prepared to take a few surprises, for her.  I could get used to a few oddities for her, as well.

She is my best friend, almost like a sister I never had.

“Clippety, clop; clippety, clop!” I hear my hooves squeak, as I continue to walk towards the door of my room.

“This bed room, is my inner sanctum; away from anything, and everything!” I ponder.

I giggle.

It is strange, to feel the floor; under what is to pass, for my hooves.  Almost, as if I had been walking in someone else’s shoes.  Or, some Pony’s?  Either way, I don’t mind, it feels good.

However, it is a bit strange, to be several inches over where I am used to be.  Even if I bend my knees, I am much taller than I am used to.

Strange ideas are swirling around in my head, notions that could not make sense in the world I had come from.  Here, in the home I am sharing with Midnight Sparks; it is still making perfect sense.  With her, strange and odd things are not just possible, but perfectly logical and reasonable.

    Midnight Sparks is a Pony of Equestria, and this is a taste of what life is like in her world.  The world where she came from, where she is born.  Magic, and the effects of it is very real to her; in extension, now they are real to me too.  I guess I could not complain?  I am enjoying it, and having fun.



    

    I walk out of my room, stepping right into the hall.  Midnight is still exploring her creation.

    “Maybe I should see what happens, if I placed one or two of my pony dolls in that doll house?” I ponder.

    Of course, the question is which doll, or dolls to pick.  Even if I guess I could just take all of them at once.  I just do not feel like taking all of them.  Not just because it would be obvious and they would be missing on my desk.

“Maybe I could ask her, to make another house for them; if they like their new home?” I ponder.

I close the door to my room, as I exit.  From there, I continue through the hall and open the door; before I open the apparently now closed too and walk into my own room.  With a few steps, I reach the desk, where the figurines are standing in a cozy group of plastic Ponies.

I look at them, considering the choice for a moment.

“Who do I take; since I will leave the rest of them, where they are?” I ponder.

I end up, picking Derpy and the Doctor.  Carefully scooping them up, before I walk back and close the door behind myself.  I carry the two to the doll house and place them together in the kitchen.  It just felt more appropriate to place them in this setting.

As I look closer, there is a table and a fridge, aside from all the usual stuff you expect in the kitchen.  Actually, the entire house is furnished, if just a bit Spartan.

“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” I hear the sound of bare hooves of the pony trotting into the room.

“I could not leave the house unfurnished, on the of chance they are actually alive!” she points out.

“That is why I pulled out a pair of them, to let them have the chance!  I want to see them enjoy the life they deserve together!” I respond.

“You chose Derpy and the Doctor?” she giggles.

“That’s as good a choice, as any!” I point out.

“Makes sense, and they deserve that life; together, to!” she points out, still grinning.

“In which case, we need a new house for the next selection!” I propose.

“Yes, we do indeed; they deserve a home, each and every one of them!” she agrees.

“Mr. and Mr’s. Whooves seems to happy together, even if Derpy always was the jolly Pony in the village!” I suggest.

“Now they can live, happily together, just like you and I?” she points out.

“Yes, I would very much hope so; only time will tell, if they are indeed alive in the manner to permit this!” I add.

I look up, and my eyes slowly wander over her form, exploring her body as she is standing beside me.

“You changed into something more comfortable?” I inquire.

“Yes, do you approve?” she inquires.

“The skirt and verst does suit you!” I point out; “Yes, I do indeed approve!” I continue.

“I notice, you finally did try out the stockings, I take it you are enjoying it!” she responds.

“It was a bit strange, at first; but now it feels quite comfortable!” I respond; “I guess I will wear these, in here; while I will wear the socks, in the other room where others see me!” I point out.

“Oh, yes; quite prudent, never know how you appear in the eyes of others!” she points out, in response.

“With you, I do not need to worry; how you see me, I can feel you enjoy my company!” I put forth.

“Yes, there is no point in denying that; I do indeed enjoy your company, quite a lot!” she confirms.

“Then I guess the feeling is mutual, I enjoy your company as well!” I point out.

“I know, I know; that is part of why I enjoy to be around you, and quite possibly why I could even do all this for the two of us!” she points out, matter of fact, while still grinning and giggling.

“You are the best friend a girl like me could possibly wish for, even if I had never expected it before!” I respond.

“With you, I am free to be myself; maybe that is why, you feel comfortable in being yourself around me too?” she inquires.

"That, and the way you let me explore things I never knew I could enjoy!” I respond.

“In place of the uptight cotton ensemble, you were wearing?” she inquires.

“I guess you could put it that way!  Now I can be the girl I am, wearing these stockings and play around, without the fear of prejudice or expect any malice!” I point out.

“One does not hurt a friend!  Simple as that!” she points out.

I giggle.

“Besides, I love preparing these for you, just as I crafted the room for the both of us!” she offers.

“I can not change who, or what I am; but, I can improve myself.  Exploring myself, with a good friend, by my side; helps me learn more of who I am and what I need and like!” I ponder.

“Of course, I learn more about her in the process; just as I learn to listen to others, respecting my friend, as I go along!” I ponder.

My trust ties me to her; she is my friend, deserving of my trust.  In the mirror, she learns to listen to me, trusting in me.  If the reflection is broken, the friendship may ultimately be shattered.  Could it be repaired?  I do not wish to find out.  I trust her and respect her.  



My steps had taken me to the room, with a double bed.  I notice her horn aglow, as it lights up.  She opens the door and we step right in.  The door is closed behind us and we continue up to the bed.

I climb up into the bed from one side, while she is climbing up into the bed from the other.  I face her, as she is facing me.  I grin at her, while she is grinning back at me.  I see my friend.

She may not be a pet, but she is still a Pony.  A Pony, is not a Horse.  Had she been a Horse, she could never have fit in the room or the bed.  She is a Pony, and my Friend.

I enjoy to feel the smoothness of her furry head.  I reach out my hand, momentarily scratching her behind her right ear.  Absentmindedly enjoying the brief contact.

She does not pull back, or protest.  I can feel, how she is enjoying the closeness of the touch.  She may not purr like a cat, and she does not say a word.  It is, as if she did not feel like breaking the spell or squandering the moment with a word.  She just enjoys the moment, mindlessly feeling without a single thought.

I turn over on my back and close my eyes.  She is turning towards me.  Somehow, I just know, without looking.  The feeling one has for a close friend.


---   ---   ---

> A Thoughtful Gift
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There is a scent of Lavender on the air.  I slowly open my eyes, climbing out of my bed.

My bare hooves hit the floor, quietly; since I am not wearing the boots right now.  I follow the scent of flowers out of the room, then down the hall to my room.  I step into the room and open the door to my balcony.

The balcony is largely empty and void.  I can see a row of Daisies to the right, and a line of Lilies to the left.  The plants are lining the balcony.

Of course, the Lavenders are hanging from the ceiling,  One in a pot to the right and the other one to the left.

 	There is also a large urn with Daisies in the right and one to the left corner of the balcony.

"I guess this is my balcony!” I exclaim.

“I had asked her for Daisies, but I had never expected her to give me this much!” I ponder, reminding myself of the night.

I had asked her, because it is something I can’t just conjure up.  Even a Daisy is alive.  A conjured up item, is neither alive nor nourishing to me.  It is just an item, without spirit of flavour.  I have my limits.  Besides, a gift is always more valuable than a conjured up item.

This room is giving me space in which I can be with her.  The room requires neither flavour nor spirit.  It simply is.  I could conjure up clothes and furniture.  The clothes are spirited, but only in extension of her.  The furniture is useful, because it makes the room comfortable.  Yet, it is only comfortable; in the presence of her, the girl who is responsible for liberating me in the first place.  In a sense, I owe her everything.  Yet, she asks little to nothing of me.  Maybe that is how and why she liberated me in the first place?

If she is enjoying my company and love me for who and what I am, there are no demands posed.  None needs to be posed, in the first place.

I give her everything I have, and everything I have; because I enjoy doing it, and because she is truly appreciating it.  In return, she gave me this.  The flowers on the balcony.

I do not care how she got them, so long as she did not steal them or hurt anyone in the process.





I had been quiet, contemplating the situation for a long while.

All of a sudden, I hear the sounds of her hooves against the black stone floor.  She is walking up towards the door, stepping out onto the balcony beside me.

“Thank you!” I exclaim, as I hear her step out.

“You are quite welcome!” she merely acknowledges, nodding at the beautiful flowers.

“They are quite beautiful, and you deserve them!” she then adds.

“They are indeed lovely, they make the balcony, it is my place to give it a bit of life!” she concludes.

“I guess you are right, but I like the balcony and what you made it into!” I add.

“Now it is our home, away from home; out of the public eye, where we can truly be ourselves!” she agrees.

“On that note, maybe I should conjure up a table and a pair of chairs?” I inquire.

“That would be great!” she responds.

I simply light up my horn, focus on the items of our common desire; the table and a pair of chairs appears out of the thin air.  Once the furniture had materialized fully, I cease my magic.  My horn grows dark.

“That never cease to amaze me, but then again; I am not a Unicorn, like you!” she exclaims.

“No, but we can’t all be Unicorns!” I simply agree.

She giggles.

“I am a Human, I am satisfied with being a girl.  There is nothing that can change me, or how I feel about me or myself.  Though I would love exploring it with you, by my side!” she utter.

“All the magic in the world can’t change the core or spirit of who you are, but I can permit you to experience a glimpse of what you could be!” I promise.

“I love these stockings, you gave me; I love how they make me feel, honoring you with every step I take as I wear them!” she adds.

“You are closer to me, than I had thought possible; you are dear to me, for who you are, and what you are doing for me!” I point out.

If I had told her this before, but I am content pointing it out again and again.  I want and need her to know and understand the depth of these words.  Words are empty and meaningless, if they mean nothing, or if the recipient does not understand what you are telling her.  Am I too literal, in my approach and personality?

I stretch my neck and extend my muzzle, as I am sniffing the Daisies.  I sense the delicious scent and aroma of the gifted blossoms.

“If you do not mind, but I want to try one of these lovely smelling Daisies!  I’m finding the scent irresistible!” I point out.

“By all means, have one; they are yours, after all!” she promises.

“Thank you!” I respond, as I part my lips and bite one of.

I chew the Daisy, quietly enjoying it and the moment.

“Just as delicious as I had pictured it!” I point out, as I finally do swallow the last of it.

“Great, it pleases me to hear!” she is pointing out, with a smile all over her face.

“I know, and I love letting you know just how delicious it is!” I put forth.

I don’t make her happy, just because she liberated me; I make an effort to please her because I enjoy doing it and to see the sweet smile on her face.

On the other hoof, she makes me happy, simply by smiling; she enjoys my company and thus smiles generously.

She had become my friend; liberating me, almost by accident.  She had never expected or anticipated the effects of her actions.  She had generously given me everything.  In so doing, I am now free to be her friend and enjoy her company.

She gave me the Daisies, offered me to enjoy them.  I had indeed enjoyed the one I tasted; not just for the taste of it, but even for the symbol of the gift itself and what it is representing.

I am honour bound, to return the favour, to the best of my abilities.  I can’t liberate her in the way she liberated me, but I can still give her something, something she could never have her without me.  I may be a unicorn, but the magic of friendship is much more than just that.

    While I am smiling at her, the smile is much wider and deeper than the lips on my muzzle.


---   ---   ---

> Dressing up, For Intimacy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I usually wear white cotton, at night.  I don’t have that option here, even if I guess I could have taken these from my wardrobe in the other room.  I could, but I do not want to.  Not because it would hurt the feelings of Midnight Sparks, but because I enjoy the clothes and garments she has made for me.

I choose to wear the garments she made for me in this room, while I wear my regular cotton clothes in the other room.  I am consciously creating a physical barrier, between the two rooms; as if they were different worlds, with different rules.

While Midnight Sparks created this world, for the two of us; she does by no means claim, to own or rule it.  She made it for me, for us to be able to be together; on our terms, and explore life and its mysteries together.

If I do not need to go up, to school or any other duty; I can sleep in, if I like to.  I still have to go to bed, the same time each night.  Maybe this isn’t such a problem now; since I have Midnight with me.  I have the room, all to myself; none will open the door, or urge me to go up early.





Of course, Midnight Sparks is waiting for me; as I enter my room, and close the door behind myself.  She never leaves my room, or move around; even if I know she could, now.  Maybe she is just resting, or sleeping during the day.  I have not asked her, yet.  Maybe I should.

I do not need to look the door to my room, I know my parents will not open the door or peak into the room.  I guess they trust me, enough by now.  I am not quite that little a girl now.  So long as I am quiet, and do not by any means disturb them, they leave me alone.  I have a few toys and books, nothing that will cause ruckus unless I am clumsy.  Then again, I am usually tired, at this time of the day.

I turn off the lamp hanging from the ceiling, before I switch on my reading lamp.

“Hiya!” Midnight exclaims, in a hushed voice.

“Hiya!” I respond.

“Our first; genuine sleepover, together!” she exclaims.

“Exciting, isn’t it?” I inquire.

“As a matter of fact; yes, it is!” she responds, giggling.

“I’ll just undress, and we will be going!” I point out.

“Exactly” she points out, still giggling, in excitement.

She is growing into the little girl I am having my first sleepover with, more and more by the minute.

“This will be so exciting!” I ponder, grinning.

As I walk over to the wardrobe, and open the door; she walks over to the door, opening the door to our home.  She steps in, but leaves the door open for me.

I stand up, looking in, into the space of my wardrobe.  All my clothes, just where I had left them.

I start by pulling my shirt up over my head, slipping it into the wash bin.  Now I slip my skirt down, before I kick it up and slip it after the shirt into the wash bin.

For a moment, I just stand there and ponder the moment; before I return to the hear and now and starts to undress once more.  Now I pull the top up over my head, depositing it onto the pile of clothes.  I use my right hand, in order to slip my panties down and kick them up, leaving them on the pile.

I had left the socks on, leaving them for last.  Something just makes me prolonging the inevitable.  I know I have to slip them off, before I can enter the room.  It isn’t that I do not want to enter the room. Just as I could keep these socks on, if I had actually wanted to.  In the end, the socks slip off of my feet, before I place them in the wash bin.

“There, now I am ready!” I ponder, renewing the grin.

“I’m coming!” I add, letting Midnight know.

Not that I really had to, it is after all our home; not just hers, I am not her guest in that manner of speaking.  She did after all create the room for me, so we can share the time together.  Not for her, to hide away in privacy.





The door to the closet is closed, as I walk into the room and close the door behind me.  Naturally, I am nude.

“Ah, there you are!” she teases me, and I giggle.

“Yeah, I guess I am!” I respond.

“You even closed the door, so we can be alone!” she points out.

“Just the two of us, I will just slip into something more comfortable; before I get back to you!” I point out.

I slip into my room, but do not close the door entirely.

“If she wants to look, then by all means!” I ponder, as I walk over to the wardrobe.

I open the door and scan the interior.  Exactly what would be in store for me, to explore with her tonight?

While I am eager to slip into the stockings I wore last time, it would be odd to slip into the stockings first.  I take this by the numbers, examining the options before me.

“The stockings are still there, I see; good, I do not want to let go of these!” I ponder.

“Panties, and top, both in a smooth and glossy black rubber?  This does look promising!” I ponder.

I pick up a pair of black panties.  The style is consistent, in place of my cotton, I have her rubber.  Smooth and glossy seems to be her style.  I do not complain, it looks good and feels comfortable.

After a moment, I am stepping right into the panties; pulling them all the way up, only to give them the customary tentative tugs.  The highly elastic rubber feel cool, but warms up in a minute.

I pull out the top, looks at the matching garment.  Now I am pulling it down; before I give it a few tentative tugs, making it feel as if it had indeed been made for me.  Tailor made, as it were.

“Either she is a tailor, or her magic makes the garments fit!” I ponder.

Either could be possible, but neither is exclusive.

I lift my right hand up to my chest, slowly exploring the breast.  I feel the smooth rubber over the orb.

I lift up my left hand to my crouch, only to find smooth rubber covering the mound.  I feel my fingers sliding over the smooth rubber, as if the skin underneath had been as smooth as the rubber.  No hint as to what is under.

I pull out a pair of full-length stockings, looking identical to the once I had worn before.  The same skin-tone, and the same black border trim.  Just like before, these stockings ends with a hooves.

“She really knows me, only too well!” I ponder.

I had just extracted the right stocking and lifts up my right foot, slipping it in and pull the stocking all the way up.  I afford the stocking a few tentative tugs, in order to make certain it is fitting just right.  I lean over to change my weight over from my left foot, over to the right hoof.  There is a distinct squeak, but other than that there is no surprise.  Once I stand on the right hoof, I repeat the process, soon finding myself standing securely on two hooves.

“Just as last time, I love these!” I ponder, squeeing in delight.

I am after all a little girl, what had you been expecting out of me?

“It would be anticlimactic, if I just stopped there?  I need something more, just for the fun of it!” I mumble, to myself.

The answer comes to me, in the form of a pair of matching gloves.  Full-length, skin tone and highly complimentary gloves, made in the same rubber as the rest of my ensemble.

“These are looking promising; very promising, indeed!” I ponder; as I extract the garments, reverently.

I extract the right glove, slipping my hand right in; feeling the smooth, tight rubber slide over my skin as I pull it all the way up.  The glove is tight and skin hugging in a very exciting way I had not been expected and could never have been prepared for.  I give the glove a few tentative tugs, in order to ascertain the perfect fit, I had been looking forwards to.

“Ooh!  This is delightful!” I squee.

Once the right glove is on, I extract the left glove, repeating the process all over in the same spirit.

“It is almost, as if she had been reading my mind!” I ponder.

Of course, she had entered my Diary, when she asked me for the Daisies, but still.  I certainly had never expressed a desire for anything the likes of these.

Maybe she had partially implanted these ideas in my head, without knowing or intending for that to happen.

I had always been the practical, utilitarian little girl, never been interested in the fancy things offered.  Maybe this is my age, or the lack of stimulation and exposure?  I do not know, it’s still irrelevant.

I lift up my right hand to close the wardrobe, only to see the inch long, semi square, glossy and perfect fingernails.  I lift up the hand before me, only to notice a silicon white suction cup covering the entire palm of my hand.  The tip of each finger, covered by a bright, cerise sensitive touch pad.  It reaches from the final joint of the finger and all the way up to the nail.  The surface glister as if covered by a wet gel, while still being a coarse and highly elastic rubber.

“That is interesting, and exciting!” I point out.

“On second though, wonder if she hid anything else in my wardrobe?” I ponder; renewing my interest, for the contents within the tight space of my wardrobe.

“While I have covered almost all the bases, already; but, this muzzle does look interesting!” I ponder; “Maybe, just maybe I should try it out, just to see how it feels?” I continue.

The muzzle is made out of the same rubber, as the rest of the ensemble; how unexpected?  I tis smooth to the touch and glossy to the eye.  It certainly does look, as if it could fit me.

I pick it up and glace it over, in order to examine the small, rubber item before me.  As opposed to most of the garments; this is more glossy, than my skin.  Other than that, I guess it could still pass for skin-tone.

For a moment, I hesitate; before I lift it up and press it against my mouth.  It does feel a bit warm and sticky.  The rubber sticks to my lips and seals tight.  I can’t find a seam between the rubber and my face.

As I caress the rubber, I realize that the glossy rubber now covers my face almost entirely.  The diminutive muzzle would match the muzzle of Midnight Sparks fairly well.  Of course, that would be the point.

“I can breathe through my nostrils, as if I had not been wearing the muzzle in the first place!” I ponder; “Or, as if it had been a natural part of my face, all along!” I correct myself, a moment later.

“Now, that is a curious notion!” I ponder.

The seamless fit of the muzzle makes it look and feel, as if I had indeed been born with it.  Should I be worried, or excited?

Maybe I should have considered, how to take the muzzle off in the morning; I had not, and now it is too late to consider it.  While the garments had been feeling tight, but the ensemble feels as if I had been nude.  I can see the garments, where the colours are revealing their presence; but aside from that, there is little to nothing to the point of me wearing anything.

“I guess it is time, I return to our bed!” I put forth; “She is waiting for me, by now!” I continue.

I close the wardrobe and turn towards the door and start walking.

“Clipperty, clop; clipperty, clop!” I hear my hooves squeak.

The same little noises, as I had been accustomed to; since I tried these out.  Maybe the noises are just a bit more distinct, but the noises are still the same.

“I would not want them, any other way!” I realize.

I step out of the room, then close the door behind me with my left hoof.  There is a squeak, as I hit the door; I feel a slight hint of a tug under the hoof, just as the hoof tries to pull back.  The moment passes, the door closes and I continue to walk towards the bed room.





I continue to walk up to the door, before I step right in; closing the door behind me, with the left hoof just as before.

“Okies, I’m all yours!” I proclaim, as I continue towards the bed.

“You certainly took your time, but I guess it is well worth it!” she responds, grinning.

“You did prepare a few interesting options for me, I had to consider!  Though I could not pass up these stockings, the hooves makes only too adorable little noises!” I point out, as I take the final steps towards the bed.

“Tonight, we will relax, and tomorrow I will initiate you in the equine nature!” she points out.

“No equine has hands, but I can’t adjust to being a quadruped in a heartbeat!” I ponder.

I step right up onto the bed, from my side.  As I lie down, she moves towards me, muzzling me gently.

“I was not quite prepared for that, but I enjoy the experience!” I ponder.


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