Chapter One - Or How I Got Completely Screwed Over

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In my experience living on planet Earth, it is customary to rub one's closed eyes when awakening from a good night's rest.

I, of course, never cared to count how many mornings I'd started with that action; suffice it to say that the habit was thoroughly ingrained in my routine. Naturally, the deed assisted with regaining consciousness, helping to break that sandy stuff that keeps our eyes closed and perhaps rub some life into a rebooting brain. Obviously, the first thing I opted to do once I was sufficiently awake was this very action, as I'd done it countless times before with resounding success.

I'm sure you can thusly sympathize with my shock when I felt not the warm grasp of fingers across my face, but instead a cold, hard surface making rather speedy contact with my nose.

Ow.

Shocked, pained, and successfully roused, I could only blink stupidly as my blurry vision cleared. In my daze, I tried clutching my throbbing nose, which only earned yet another hard impact. This, as you can doubtlessly understand, was quite jarring and my eyes consequently flew open to glare at the offending appendage. I expected a closed fist, perhaps numb because I'd slept on it wrong and maybe that was why I somehow couldn't feel my fingers.

A pale green hoof, attached quite soundly to a similarly-colored foreleg, was the first thing my gaze focused on.

It was an objectively hideous color, one far too close to chartreuse for my liking. I'd always hated that particular shade, though for what exact reason I couldn't say. The fetlock flexed when I tensed what should have been a wrist and after some other small tests I concluded that it was, in fact, part of my body.

I laid there, vacantly staring up at the hoof, for quite some time.

After that, it fell limply to my side as I scrunched up my face, shutting my eyes in what could reasonably be called exasperation.

Oh, come on, thought I.

Now, you were probably expecting a slightly more...bombastic reaction. I will admit, the urge to scream and run in circles was definitely present--fairly tempting, in fact. The thing is, I just wasn't that kind of person. Now, I won't claim to be logical or clear-minded about things, but, faced with a sudden transformation into goodness-knows what, I found abject frustration to be my sole emotion.

Eventually, I reopened my eyes and rolled to my stomach, figuring it best to run damage control and see what the heck I looked like. It was at that moment, however, that I finally took a glance at my surroundings and my jaw promptly dropped.

This isn't my apartment.

Bright orange walls greeted my gaze, painted with murals depicting various woodland creatures prancing about in glee under a light yellow sun. Harsh fluorescent lighting glared down from above, working in tandem with the curtained window to illuminate the modestly-sized room around me. A sterile floor stretched below, looking thoroughly-cleaned and almost painfully white.

A harsh chemical smell wafted from seemingly everywhere, so strong I wondered how I hadn't detected it before. Spartan furnishing existed in the room; only a bedside table next to the raised mattress I laid upon and some monitoring equipment by an IV I realized I was hooked into.

I paused, straining my ears--ignoring, for the moment, the faint rustle and moving sensation I received from such an action--and managed to hear nothing aside from a soft beeping to my left. The white sheets I was tucked into were warm, soft and impeccably clean; they too smelled of that chemical scent I was beginning to recognize as soap.

I sighed heavily, either due to relief or disappointment I didn't know, and ponderously examined the room around me.

Is this a...hospital?

I'd never been in one before, but it seemed to fit the bill. Having studied all I could, I braced for impact and--slowly, to make sure I didn't hurt anything or pull some new muscle I hadn't had before--wriggled out of the blankets.

After observing my new body for a while, I found I could only shut my eyes again and let out another sigh.

Well, I suppose being an undersized Christmas-colored horse isn't the worst possible thing.

Still not my preferred option, though. Ideally, I'd be your regular, run-of-the-mill human male going about his day and not offending whatever cosmic entity decided to put me here. Evidently, I had somehow failed in that endeavor, something to which my bright red tail and tiny, feathery wings could attest. A rush of many different emotions flooded me in that moment, but oddly enough, panic seemed overshadowed by some kind of resignation.

Ah, well, I hardly had the time to do a deep-dive into my own psyche; I needed to gather information about my current situation and I needed to do it now.

Grunting softly to myself, I stood on all fours--a position that felt all too natural--and promptly hopped down off the bed. Immediately, I noticed two key things:

Firstly, the tube attached to the IV I was hooked into wasn't long enough to allow such an action.

Secondly, the nightstand in front of me stretched far too high in the air for me to ever reach the bandages I could see at the top.

Accompanying these realizations were their just-as-immediate consequences, which I watched as though in slow motion. The needle buried in my fetlock was painfully ripped out with a spurt of blood that, to my horror, didn't seem to slow down much at all. And, despite my frantic hopping, I still couldn't reach the one thing that would help me.

Perhaps because of my inexperience with this body, I ended up landing wrong and slipped on the growing pool of red liquid. The heart monitor--whose attached cords for some reason were actually long enough--was beeping wildly at this point and I found myself short of breath after having crashed down on my still-sore nose.

You know, as a grown man, all of this would probably hurt quite a bit and be rather inconveniencing, but nothing to sincerely worry about. This stupid little horse body, though, apparently felt pain far, far more keenly. I choked back tears as I laid there, cursing softly. My fetlock felt like it'd been ripped open and I could swear the whole front of my face was broken.

I'll spare you too many details, but suffice it to say I was not having a good morning.

It's times like this when I like to take a step back and wonder how on earth my life led me here. In my experience, 'phasing out,' as it were, of these particular situations tends to do a world of good, so naturally, that was what I did. Already in my short life as a pony, I was yearning to be back as a man with a host of completely different problems. Issues like paying my rent on time, waking up early enough to get to work, resisting the urge to get the more-convenient fast food and instead cook something decent for dinner. The simple, the mundane, the routine.

I'd been content with my lot in life, you know. I never once complained about my humble, all-too-average situation, at least that I could recall. Sure, I suppose it had been a bit dull, but I'd take boring over three-legged hobbling to the corner of the hospital room and crying my eyes out any day.

Not that I was focusing too hard on that, mind you. Once lost in my own head, the raw pain of this body all but left entirely. Really, it was quite an effective coping mechanism. I recommend you try it sometime.

Distantly, I heard hurried hoofsteps and my furry pony ears swiveled towards the door as it burst open.

I snapped back to attention once I saw what was standing in the doorway, wincing as sensation duly returned.

Another pony stood there, one I immediately noticed was quite a fair bit larger than me, by a margin such that I just as quickly deduced that my body must be a child. Next, I observed the nurse's cap the pony was wearing, as well as the intricate tattoo seemingly part of its flank.

Then, I saw the soft curve of its muzzle, the long eyelashes, and elaborate manestyle.

A female.

By heaven itself, I hated females.

Women and I, you see, had never exactly seen eye to eye. Despite my every attempt to be cordial, inviting, and above all, respectful, they never seemed to return the favor. I do realize I'm generalizing here, but go with me. Often, the best treatment I could expect from a girl was a glare of enmity as she slapped my offered hand away. Sometimes, I caught them talking behind my back, shooting pointy scowls as I walked by. Other times, women would genuinely try to antagonize me with a selection of methods so wide I couldn't even begin to list all of them.

Suffice it to say I'd had bad experience with females.

Worse still, I could never pin down the reason why they hated me so much; best I could tell, my only outstanding characteristic was that I was perfectly average in every feasible way. And any attempt at placation or defending myself was only met with vindictive retaliation the likes of which I could never have expected. It was like they had some secret code, some hidden method of judging people that I always ran afoul of no matter how hard I tried.

After a while, I stopped trying to get them to like me. I'd decided long ago that avoidance--under any cost--was the best solution. And that worked quite well for me, actually. The women in my life had finally reached a consensus with me, something along the lines of 'I hate you, you hate me, let's make sure we never see each other again'. That plan was wildly successful.

At least, it was until...

...well...

I won't bore you with the details. The fact remained: A female was standing in the doorway to my room and I needed to get her out before she did something unsavory.

It was at that moment, of course, while she was scanning my surely-pitiful figure up and down--doubtlessly calculating how vulnerable I was--that I involuntarily let out a pained whimper.

Of course, her eyes immediately bulged open and she rushed in for the kill.

"Stay away!" I croaked with a voice far too hoarse and high-pitched for my liking. This, of course, did absolutely nothing to dissuade the menace and in fact only increased her pace as she galloped straight toward me. Frantically glancing about, I spied the nearby curtained window and sped over, ripping apart the drapes. To my delight, it had been cracked open and I was even on the first floor of the building.

To my horror, this pony foal body wasn't near strong enough to open the thing any wider. Not in time to escape the stony forelegs that coiled around my barrel.

I yelled, thrashing as hard as I could, but wasn't able to stop myself from being bodily thrown back on the bed. The mare pinned me to the sheets, grunting angrily as I continued to squirm with all I had. I'm proud to say I managed to clock her pretty solidly in the face, but was more than disappointed when she didn't so much as blink and a fresh wave of pain swept across my foreleg.

Ultimately, the 'fight' was over before it even began; this lady was orders of magnitude stronger than me, likely due to my weakened state and comparative smallness. The second she tired of physically holding my writhing form still and leaned to the side to prepare a syringe, I knew there was no hope of escape.

Again as if in slow motion, I watched as she leaned back over me, grasping my uninjured foreleg and quickly sliding the needle in. The mare stared right into my eyes as she depressed the plunger, smugly daring me to try anything else. I thought I could even see her grinning mouth moving, though the world was growing too fuzzy for me to make out the words.

I didn't give her the satisfaction of replying. I merely glared up at her, willing my expression to reflect my hatred for her kind instead of the all-consuming fear I was actually feeling.

That was the last I knew before I slipped away.

Chapter Two - Ponyland Gets Really Old, Really Fast

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There are a lot of nice things to wake up to.

The smell of breakfast cooking is one that immediately comes to mind. Food is always great and knowing you're going to start the day partaking of it is a great feeling. Birdsong, too, emerges as an example of the above point. Not the harsh, loud kind, of course, but the soft, delicate tones of the gentler species are usually quite a treat for the ears. Even one's alarm sound could be considered a positive thing, so long as one is aware that it lets them start the day on time and has had sufficient sleep to appreciate that fact.

I had begun countless days lying in bed, reveling in these and many other such sensations. I was far from a morning person, you see, and thus preferred to slowly arise from my often-turbulent slumber. It was for this reason that I never really partook of coffee or other such stimulating substances. I found that adrenaline tended to work much the same and quite a bit more effectively in many cases. Natural remedies, right?

In any case, the fact remained that there are many nice things to observe once you've finally been roused from the throes of slumber.

Waking up to two dinnerplate-sized lime green eyes staring down at you, however, is generally not considered 'nice.'

And, at least in my case, seeing that those eyes were filled with malice and had long lashes to boot certainly didn't help. Also, the mare's smile was downright creepy; what kind of maniac shows that many teeth?

Needless to say, I screamed like a little girl and lashed out with a foreleg, connecting solidly with her jaw.

The nurse recoiled away--though something told me it was from the force of my shout and not that of my hoof--glancing wildly about as if in search of witnesses. In the time allotted while she let me be, I gave my new body a quick examination, scanning for anything that might've been done to me.

It sounds weird when I put it that way, but trust me, I'd been through enough experiences to know that females had no restraint when it came to unconscious coworkers.

Luckily, nothing seemed too out of place, at least from what I knew of my previous examination. What was new were the bandages wrapped around my injured fetlock. I also noted the lack of another IV to replace the one that'd hurt me, but I had no time to ponder on that; I needed to turn my attention back to the approaching mare and see just how badly she had it out for me.

I noticed this was a different nurse than last time; she had a curly blue mane, yellowish coat, and white flank tattoo as opposed to...whatever the last one looked like. I was probably too focused on her gender to observe much else, plus the mild hysteria being in so much pain tended to put people in. I think it'd be quite accurate to say I had a long list of distractions, so you can't really blame me for not remembering the other nurse. As a matter of fact, this could very well be the same one; I hardly had any way to distinguish them, after all.

Ah, but now wasn't the time to be phasing out; the mare, apparently having bored of intimidating me from afar, was starting to approach.

"It's okay, little one. I'm not going to hurt you." I would have scoffed, but found my throat too constricted to get out anything save a sharp breath. The heart monitor's beeping sped up as she stepped forth to the left side of my bed, still grinning that ominous, toothy grin of hers.

Yeah, I didn't believe this lady for a second. No one with a shred of sanity left could produce a smile like that. And who the heck goes around addressing people with 'little one?' Sure, it helped confirm I was, in fact, inside a child's body, but those words were so downright creepy I couldn't help a shiver down my new spine. 'Little guy,' 'young'un,' 'small colt,' any number of other options each sounded far less sinister than what she'd chosen. Why, I'd bet anything she decided to go with the worst possible word combination in some sick attempt to scare me. Obviously, it was working quite well, something to which the still-increasing tempo of the heart monitor could attest.

Ah, but I was phasing out again and I needed to be fully present in order to weasel my way out of this.

The nurse stalked yet closer, walking slowly in an effective bid to make me tense up yet farther. That freaky smile never once left her face, letting her flat pony teeth shine proudly on full display. When she finally came to a leering stop, her head blocked the fluorescent light right above me, casting a shadow that made me squint to pick out the details of her face.

Jeez, could this lady be any more menacing? 'Not going to hurt me' my heated horse heinie.

Naturally, I was quaking like a jackhammer and felt about to pass out from hyperventilation. Fight or flight instincts took hold of the situation, saw just how much bigger and stronger she was compared to me, and decided to simply make me freeze instead.

"You don't have to worry. You're safe now," she said as she lifted her hoof and placed it on the mattress. I cringed away and tried to pull the covers over my head in some doomed attempt to ward her off, but utterly failed thanks to my lack of fingers.

"Please don't..." was my soft request, which came out in a tone I immediately hated for its frailty and childish inflection. I was half-certain that women could sense weakness and preyed directly upon it. I was fully certain that my best chance of survival here was to act tough and try to scare her away.

I just had to get my kid body under control first.

The nurse hesitated, cocking her head to the side at my words, but didn't relent in her ongoing assault. I considered making a run for it, but again, that course of action had no possible hope of success. My plan was clearly failing, but not a complete bust just yet. If I could get out a growl or maybe another shout like the last one, perhaps her prey instincts would take over?

It was then that I let out the most threatening roar I could muster, all but screaming myself hoarse with the effort.

Fortunelessly, all that came out was a high-pitched whimper.

I suppose, in that moment, this noise suited me better. There I lay, a cornered animal far from home, about to be taken advantage of in who knows how many ways. All I could do--indeed, my sole remaining choice in the events to come--was clench my eyes shut and prepare for the worst. Shivering under those too-tight covers and wildly hyperventilating, I began to once more reflect on my life.

You know, when I talk about myself this way, it's very easy to pretend the events are happening to someone else entirely. Taking a step back, trying to distance myself from it all, these are the strategies I've employed for as long as I can remember. I let my mind wander and take me away from the sting of the injuries or the sick games my coworkers loved to play. Travelling--waltzing, even--along mental tangents that distract and continue for figurative miles, keeping me from noticing the pains of reality. Again, it's quite effective and I do think you might agree if you tried it.

Now, you see, was the time to phase out.

I didn't have any other options.

There was no weaseling my way out of this one.

An especially loud noise, though, bade me return just the slightest bit to investigate. These kinds of situations never tended to elicit such sound from any source sans the victim and that definitely hadn't come from me.

After hesitantly prying open my watering eyes, I saw that the door had slammed open and my assailant was quite literally being dragged to it by the ear. I hadn't come back enough to hear any words, but I noticed my rescuer--another mare with a pure white coat and light pink mane--shouting quite animatedly into the ear she yanked towards the exit. From what little I could detect with lip reading, she seemed to be exchanging some...unkind words with my near-attacker.

I cringed away from this new pony's wrath, finally pulling the stubborn sheets over my head while the nurse was unceremoniously tossed out of the room. With all the haste of a handicapped sloth, I focused back in on my body, which allowed sounds to gradually return to my awareness. The heart monitor's hurried beeping was first to fade into my conscious, slowing unsteadily as I calmed down somewhat. My panting breaths, each obnoxiously loud in my little blanket bubble, also stood out to me.

Most important of all, however, were the approaching hoofsteps.

I yelped and slammed my eyes closed again when the sheets were ripped away from my grasp. I could feel this new mare's burning gaze on my skin, all but searing away at me while she decided what best to do. I think she might've even rolled me around with a hoof to get a good look at everything, but I couldn't be sure; I was already beginning to phase out in preparation for what was to come.

Imagine my surprise, then, when the mare simply placed the blanket back in my trembling hooves and stepped away.

A deep sigh and the shuffling of papers were the next sounds to reach my fluffy pony ears.

After that, only scribbling noises as she wrote on what I soon saw was a clipboard.

I watched, dumbstruck but not a little curious, as she held a pen in her teeth and used precise movements to jot something down. She was wearing a white lab coat, freshly pressed and somehow adapted to a quadrupedal form. I probably hadn't noticed it before due to it being the exact shade of her fur and the debilitating panic clouding my thoughts. My heart monitor was beginning to slow again and my breathing followed a similar pattern. I still kept my muscles tensed, though; I couldn't afford to relax just yet.

"I'm sorry about Nurse Snowheart. She's not very good with foals."

I flinched heavily when the mare, having finished her writing, addressed me directly. She sighed again at my response, turning and striding back to the door. I saw another muzzle poke in--curved, to my disappointment--when she opened it and gave her command.

"Go fetch Thunderlane from room three-oh-nine. I need him here to help with a scared colt." The other pony hesitated at this, even while the clothed mare's resolve hardened and her face grew stonier to show it.

"He's still healing from wing fractures, is now the best time?" My rescuer paused, glancing back at my shivering figure. By this point, I'd fixed my vulnerable belly-up position and had managed to untuck the blanket enough to wrap myself in it as I crouched on the mattress. I'm sure I made a pitiful sight, trembling there with wide, teary eyes and pinned ears in a fabric cocoon of my own making.

I made sure to pour on the pathetic show all I could, having drastically changed my plan of action. If I couldn't threaten her in this body, then maybe it was best to evoke as much sympathy as possible. The more I resembled a kicked puppy, the greater the chance that she'd leave me alone, if only to save her poor eyes.

As a human, of course, this never would have worked; a vulnerable man was naught but a target for a whole slew of unpleasant experiences. I had learned that the hard way. Perhaps, though, as a fuzzy pony child, I possessed an entirely different arsenal of defenses.

That was assuming females had a single merciful, sympathetic cell in their bodies, which I wasn't sure of.

"He should be recovered enough to help with this. Fetch him now." The muzzle poking out of the doorway bobbed as the pony it belonged to nodded vigorously. The exit was at an angle such that I couldn't see much outside--only a glimpse of sterile white hallway--but I could imagine the expression on her face as she backed away.

"Of course, Doctor Redheart." Hurried hoofsteps denoted her rushing off and that was that.

For a downright-shocking length of time, nothing much else occurred. I expected this Redheart to approach me again or at least engage some form of conversation. Instead, the mare left the open door and settled herself on the sterile floor, neglecting to so much as look at me.

While not ideal, this was by no means the worst possible outcome of her remaining. I eyed the door and considered making a run for it, but quickly dismissed the idea altogether. Clearly, it was time to gather some insight as to why I was here and what they planned to do with me.

Proactivity was certainly not my strong suit and I struggled to muster up enough confidence to speak, but eventually the childish tones of my new voice echoed timidly through the room.

"Who's Thunderlane?"

The doctor's ears perked at my question and she glanced up at me, evidently surprised I dared ask it. I made steady eye contact with her, deeply wishing my face showed rebellion and anger instead of the anticipation and fear it no doubt expressed. The mare, in turn, looked away first and addressed the wall instead, which did make me a little more at ease, I'll admit.

"He's a patient here at Ponyville General. Very kind and fatherly to foals." Redheart closed her eyes and breathed slowly through her curved muzzle, shifting slightly in her spot laying on the floor. "I'm hoping you'll get along better with him, since he's a stallion." My ears perked in hope at this and I scooted forward a bit on the mattress, running the word around in my head a few times.

Stallion. A male horse. Someone able to understand me better and who wouldn't try to do...things...without my consent. I hadn't ever really had that many male friends, or even met many at all. Despite this, I was sure Thunderlane would be happy to help a fellow guy out. Maybe we could escape together and get away from all these freaky mares.

"Are you gonna hurt me?"

I blinked rapidly, surprised equally at both my own question and the vulnerable tone it carried. The answer, of course, was obvious and one I knew no matter what the mare said. She shook her head before bowing it, appearing to steel herself. I did much the same, bracing for outrage or something similar.

"No. I'm a doctor. I help ponies." Again, I would have scoffed, but this time I was stopped by the sincerity of her words instead of a lump in my throat. Silence reigned as king once more while I took in the pony laying on the hospital room floor and she remained still under my watch.

Doctor Redheart clearly wasn't like the nurse I'd woken up to. As a matter of fact, so far, she was unlike any female I'd ever encountered. Somehow, my methods of gaining her sympathy seemed to have worked, though whether that was because of my new body or her being different had yet to be decided. Perhaps she did not, truly, intend to use me in some way. Maybe, just maybe, she was actually distinct among all the others I'd come into contact with.

No.

It wasn't possible. Statistically, scientifically, whatever. Every female--every last one--I had met had wanted something from me and didn't care if I wasn't willing. What were the odds that one of them was different? With a data pool the size of mine, I'd say pretty slim.

Did it really matter if this was a different world? My experience with the creepo nurse said 'no' and I was inclined to believe it.

Doctor Redheart obviously, naturally, clearly intended to harm me in some way.

If I wanted to stay in one piece, I had to be sure to remain on high alert.

Just then, a gentle knock emanated from the door and the doctor--slowly, to my relief--rose from her seat to answer it without so much as glancing at me. The polished wooden slab once more creaked open and my eyes immediately latched on the charcoal grey pegasus that strode past it.

Squared, I thought with relief, his muzzle is squared.

Now, don't ask me why or how I knew to look for the shape of the snout, mainly because I'd have no idea how to answer. Earthen horses certainly didn't follow a like pattern, at least not that I was aware of. I began pondering on the nature of equines back home and that was probably why I made the fatal mistake.

By the time I phased back in enough to regain awareness, I found myself clutching onto Thunderlane's foreleg with all the strength my significantly-smaller ones could offer. I blinked up into his golden eyes, thoroughly embarrassed, but couldn't make myself move away. To my surprise and--more importantly--joy, the stallion simply rocked back to his haunches and held me close with both front legs.

"How's it going, little bro? Could you tell me your name?"

I shivered my relief at his deep voice, resisting the urge to bury my face in his barrel like an ostrich in denial. Instantly, everything was better and brighter, but, in that moment, I couldn't be bothered to wonder why.

"I-I'm Heath," was my reluctant reply. I ignored the scribbling from behind me that came afterward, focusing instead on the soft warmth around my barrel. Something about him put me at ease so fast I nearly forgot I was ever worried. My muscles relaxed and I finally registered just how sore everything was.

Thunderlane's downy wings sprung stiffly open and started to wrap around me as well. I noticed both the tight bandages woven around them and his pained grimace, but couldn't make myself care about either. Instead, I leaned my head up against his shoulder and hummed quietly while he grunted with equal volume as the feathers fully embraced my body.

"I'd advise against that. You might further damage something and--" The doctor cut herself off once the stallion gently shook his head.

"It's okay. Anything to make a little bro feel better."

See, already I was being proven correct. This was a level of self-sacrifice I hadn't seen displayed by any girl I'd ever encountered. Can I really be blamed for fearing them so badly?

Sometimes I do wonder if I'm somehow at fault for all of it. Perhaps my attempts to be perfectly average weren't enough, or even had the opposite effect as intended. All I'd wanted was to avoid all that drama and stuff, especially later down the line. Was it really too much to ask to just be left alone?

Ah, but I'm just complaining now and you're probably already more than sick of that. I must thank you for sticking with me for so long, especially when I come off as such a terrible person. Sometimes I do wonder what your motivation for staying by me is, but you don't talk that much so I doubt I'll get much in the way of an answer. I'm grateful to have such a good friend regardless. Heaven knows I have too little of those around.

I was phasing out yet again and I returned to deafening silence. Both adult ponies had been staring expectantly down at me for who knows how long while I gazed vacantly into the ether. Clearly, they were expecting an answer I didn't have and accordingly I looked up at Thunderlane with the sheepish expression of a dog caught eating off the table. To my ever-growing relief, he smiled patiently and repeated himself:

"Where's your herd, Heath? They're bound to be looking for you."

Herd?

Just like earthen horses, then. I supposed that made sense; different species, different rules and all that. I found myself relieved that at least these ponies weren't completely alien. I wondered, then, what the typical family dynamic was like around here and if I would be allowed to get by on my own. I had absolutely no desire to be forced into some kind of adoption situation, which from the way they were looking at me, seemed to be in the cards.

Thunderlane must have seen something in my eyes. Granted, that probably wasn't very hard as I wasn't exactly trying to hide my haunted look, but he saw it all the same. He didn't examine my expression for long before he glanced up over my head and at Redheart with a meaningful one of his own.

"I'll contact Foal Protective Services immediately," I heard the doctor mutter as her hoofsteps went towards the door. "We're not equipped to deal with this." She paused halfway through the exit and I felt myself shiver under her scrutiny, to which the stallion holding me together tightened his grip. "Will you be okay in here alone with Heath?" Thunderlane glanced once more down at me, but I found myself unable to return the look.

"Yeah," he swallowed dryly and I was shifted in place as he took a deep breath. "I think we'll be okay." After this, the mare left and I fully relaxed.

In that moment, I simply couldn't make myself care about the obvious misconceptions they now had about me. Some government body was doubtlessly going to come for me soon and I'd be shuttled off somewhere according to the whims of whoever was in charge. Honestly, that thought probably should have made me much less anxious than it did, but here we were.

"It's gonna be okay, kiddo," Thunderlane comforted as he started rocking back and forth.

If only I could believe that. This time, I did manage to let out a little scoff, which only seemed to make the poor guy sadder. I did feel guilty because of this, but that emotion was far overshadowed by something else entirely:

Fear.

Chapter Three - Uncomfortable Questions Are Asked

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Hate is strong.

Anger, I've found, empowers the body, mind, and soul. When one allows fury at the unfairness of existence to fuel their every move and thought, they become able to do things never before considered possible. I've strived for rage, for ire to consume me and let me fight back against the horrors in my life. The strength one can obtain from this course of action is equally exponential and incalculable.

Sadly, I know none of this from personal experience.

Though I have tried desperately, I can never hold on to anger for long enough.

All too quickly, I am always overcome with another emotion.

Fear, I've found, weakens the spirit, will, and wits. When one is forced to live life frightened at every corner, they begin to break down as a person. Existing in a constant state of terror hurts. Your psyche frays like old rope stretched too tight for too long. Your faculties fail you one by one until you're left useless, hopeless, and unloved by any mortal being that might have--should have--taken care of you.

I know this from experience and I pray you never get to do the same. I wouldn't wish it on anyone.

It's natural, then, to want--need--an escape. Some way to leave, get away from it all. If one can't fight a problem directly, naturally one must then flee from it. If not physically, then mentally. Sequestering myself in my own reflections has proven quite effective over the years. But I'm sure you know that by now.

Again, I do think you'd like to do the same if you tried. You strike me as the sort of person who'd enjoy something like this. Do you think that, if we tried really hard and practiced often, we could phase out together? I don't even know what that'd look like, to be honest, but I feel it could be very interesting and informative, if nothing else. Maybe you'd actually be able to talk to me for once?

Ah, but now isn't the time for such things. Maybe later, once I get myself out of this mess.

Look at me, slipping into present tense accidentally. Whoops.

There I was, shaking like the world's least aerodynamic leaf in the arms--legs?--of Thunderlane and dreading the events to follow. I thought he might have been muttering some other things, presumably reassurances, into my ears, but I was far too distressed to care all that much. At some point or another he stood, letting me back to my hooves, and made for the door. Of course, I trailed along right behind, probably resembling a lost puppy.

Not my proudest moment, but we do what we have to, yeah?

Anyway, I didn't--couldn't--pay much attention to our surroundings as we walked in silence. As far as I passively observed, they were only the typical hospital fare. At least, from what I knew without being in one before. I was mainly focused on looking out for any mares, as well as losing myself in memories of being human. Between that and following the near-black stallion, I had a full plate, so to speak.

I think we descended some stairs at one point and we made a bunch of turns, winding through the labyrinthine building just like Pac-Man in that old arcade game. When we ground to a halt and I came to accordingly, I recognized the room of choice as that of a well-stocked kitchen.

"Let me getcha some grub, Heath. What's a hungry bro like you feeling?" I blinked, confused by Thunderlane's question, before a rumble from below caught my attention. I jumped and glanced down, not a little startled by this, and the stallion started chortling to himself. Flushing red, I realized too late that the noise was in fact my stomach and I felt absolutely starved.

"Aren't you just a patient? Why would they force you to make food, too?" I asked this with as much incredulity as I could manage, even while eagerly watching the dark grey pegasus set to work. He chuckled again, though whether it was from my question or the hungry look in my oversized pony eyes I didn't know.

"Those mares'd be hard-pressed to keep a stallion like me from the kitchen. And they aren't 'forcing' me to do anything." He paused in filling a glass with water from the sink long enough to glance back at me with a strange twinkle in his golden eyes. "This is my way of giving back. With how often I end up in here and how well they always take care of me, I feel like I owe 'em something, y'know? And what's better than a homecooked meal, made with love?"

My muzzle formed a wry grin as I settled on the floor and wiggled my eyebrows.

"Oh, I can think of a few things..."

To my moderate surprise, though, Thunderlane didn't blush and chastise me like I was expecting. Instead, he merely gave a sad little smile and crouched to hold the glass of water out to me. Instinctively, I reached out with a foreleg and curled nonexistent fingers around the cup, which to my further shock stuck to my hoof instead of falling to the floor when the stallion pulled away.

"You remind me of my little brother Rumble," Thunderlane said as I opted not to question it and instead guzzled the contents with all the gusto of a fish in the Sahara. I couldn't remember the last time I had tasted water this pure; despite coming straight from the tap, this was the most refreshing and clean H2O I'd had in quite a while. It seemed Ponyland had some upsides, small though they were. "He's got a dirty sense of humor, just like you. Around the same age, too, I'd guess." This piqued my interest and I peeked up at him as my ears peaked to show my attention.

Heh, English sucks. Gotta love it, though.

"And what age is that?" The stallion gave me an odd look over his shoulder, but eventually shrugged to himself and returned to whatever dish he was making. I was too short to see over the counter, but I doubted I would recognize it if I could, anyway.

"Around nine or ten, I'd say. Maybe a year or two younger; you're pretty small." I mulled this over, chewing softly on the inside of my cheek with my new flat horse teeth.

"Not twenty-six, then." Thunderlane shook his head but didn't question my words, evidently not taking them seriously. In fact, he seemed to zone out a little as he continued to work, focusing almost entirely on making food. This left the small kitchen in near-total silence, but I wasn't much bothered and in fact quite content with it.

Nine years, give or take a few. When this body was born, I'd been rushing to finish my senior project in time to graduate from high school. That year had been one stress-inducing event after another, and at the time I'd thought I would never be as anxious again. Boy, was I wrong. Poor little seventeen-year-old me had no idea of the hardships to come. Sometimes I look back and yearn for those simpler times, when it feels like my only pressing worry was completing school and getting an acceptance letter from college.

I yearn, that is, until I remember returning late at night to a 'home' that...

...well...

I won't bore you with the details. Something tells me you don't have need of them, anyway. I feel a sort of kinship with you, despite your silence. I think, perhaps, that you've been through some rough stuff, just like me. Maybe that's why we understand each other so well, despite the one-way communication. I want to thank you for letting me narrate what's happening like this. It really helps me process everything when I have that degree of separation, especially when I use past tense.

"There you go, bro. Go ahead and eat up while I make more for the staff."

All too suddenly, a wooden bowl filled with steaming, fragrant stew was placed on the floor in front of me.

My eyes ballooned to the size of literal dinnerplates when I registered the scent.

I know not where the unholy frenzy I devolved into came from, but the abominations I proceeded to enact upon that poor bowl were as unmentionable as they were undeserved. The very instant I smelled Thunderlane's cooking, some demon of ravenous destruction possessed my body and by the time I regained control, it was far too late to save any remnants of dignity. I found myself licking greedily at what droplets of stew had escaped the purge and gotten stuck in my fur. I ceased this action as soon as I could, but the damage had already been done.

The bowl, having clattered to the floor, came to a stop and practically shone for how cleanly it was polished. The stallion could only openly stare at me with both eyebrows raised as I smiled sheepishly up at him.

"You...uh...cook really well."

Having lived off microwavable dinners and fast food for a good portion of my life, I'm sure you can understand why I was so caught by surprise. Moreover, while this new body apparently felt pain stronger than before, the same could evidently be said about taste. Pony food tasted incredible and for just a few moments, I'll admit, I was reconsidering my plan to escape.

Thunderlane didn't reply. Instead, he crept forward and placed another bowl of stew in front of me. I eyed it with an expression much like that of a lioness stalking an antelope, but waited for his nod before partaking. Only then did I realize I was quivering in place and my gaze was flickering between the food and the stallion's face as if anticipating retaliation.

So all-consuming (heh) was the stew, though, that I ended up not paying this very much attention. With only slightly less gusto than before, I dug in. Again, my hooves proved strangely effective at holding things as they lifted the bowl to my muzzle and idly I wondered what else they could accomplish.

"You good, bro?" Thunderlane asked as he stirred something on the counter with a bandaged wing and looked at me with an expression halfway between 'worried parent' and 'disturbed spectator.' I waved him off, equally transfixed on both enjoying the stew and holding back tears.

"Yeah. Fine," I muttered once finished. I declined a third bowl, much to the stallion's confusion. Better not to take risks, right?

The kitchen was once more drenched in silence as I waited for him to be done. I curled up on the floor, still weakly shivering while he resumed, obviously quite perturbed by my actions. Whatever. It wasn't like I could change what he did. Best to just let it all wash over me.

I startled at a hoof on my withers and the stallion flinched backwards. Only after I expectantly stared up at him for several moments did he cough awkwardly and give me the sort of look a nervous teenager might give a ticking pipe bomb.

"It's...uh...time to go, Heath. I'm all done with the stew, and an orderly just came in to say they're ready for you."

Really?

I was honestly surprised I'd missed all of that, my phasing out notwithstanding. You'd have thought a whole other pony entering would draw my attention, but I suppose that's just how out of it I was. Even so, a question bubbled to the surface of my mind and I could feel my face scrunch as I asked it:

"Who?" A deeply-unpleasant feeling was brewing within me and I didn't like it one bit. It felt like when I'd utterly flunked a test and just gotten the grade or turned in a badly-written paper that I knew wouldn't perform well. I was about to receive an undesirable answer to a question I hadn't even wanted to ask.

"What do you mean?" Thunderlane's golden eyes flittered about every which way and he rubbed one foreleg with another, so I guessed he knew the answer to his own inquiry. This stallion was utterly befuddling me; he'd started out so confidant and reassuring, but now he seemed anxious and evasive. Was he somehow thrown off by my actions? I probably should've known better than to expect correction--he wasn't a female, after all, and thus wouldn't punish me for acting out of turn.

"Who's ready for me?"

He grimaced, strode towards the door, and replied:

"The social worker. Now come on, Heath. Let's get you to her."

Her.

Reluctantly, I followed behind him.

Contrary to before, I kept my distance from Thunderlane as we traveled through the sterile halls. Through his more-than-occasional glances back to me and utter silence, I gathered he'd become lost as to how to treat me; it seemed my antics had been alienating rather than endearing like I'd hoped. In efforts to avoid further confusion on his part I kept myself away, even when various nurses passed by and every instinct screamed at me to duck between his legs. I needed to gain every ally I could get in this strange place and to that effect I attempted to make conversation.

"So, she sure came quickly, huh?" Unfortunately, I couldn't help but let my anxieties manifest as the subject of my opener. Ah, well, I'd just have to kill two birds with one stone; my many burning questions and making small talk! Look how efficient!

"Yup. They prioritize colts quite heavily. Same-day response is just par for the course." Thunderlane's reply was curt and to the point. He didn't so much as look back at me as he spoke, but that might very well have been because we were approaching our destination: a nondescript pale door among many in a hallway just as forgettable.

I hesitated outside when the other pegasus walked in, peering after him at the room beyond: A simple lounge, from what I could tell, complete with a few garish couches, abstract paintings, a wooden coffee table--

And two mares waiting patiently within.

I dragged myself inside, a prisoner on death row marching to the courtyard where I'd serve my final sentence. The executioners eyed me as I entered. I didn't know the unicorn holding a clipboard in her hooves, but I did recognize Doctor Redheart seated on a recliner to the left.

"Why're you here?" She blinked, obviously puzzled by my question, but was ready with an answer soon after.

"It's F.P.S. protocol. No one mare can be alone with stallions at any given time. I...volunteered." There was something odd on her face at the end there, but otherwise it was completely emotionless. The point was, I couldn't see any traces of dishonesty, so my attention then returned to Thunderlane.

Poor sop. He looked like he couldn't want to be there any less and kept eyeing the door. The unicorn had put on what I would guess was a pleading expression as she gestured for him to sit. Finally and with great trepidation, he did so and I followed suit after stalking a few feet closer.

"Hello, Heath," began the clipboard-clutching mare. "How are you today?" I grunted and huddled closer to both myself and Thunderlane, expecting a consoling wing to settle itself around my shoulders. Was it just me, or did the stallion scoot away from my shivering body?

"Fine," was my curt reply. I strove to keep all emotion from my visage and become as closed-off as possible. I couldn't let either mare have anything to work with. The moment I gave something away, they would win and I'd suffer that much more pain in the future.

I don't expect you to follow along with my logic here. Something tells me you don't have the same experiences with females as me. I'm glad for that--really, I am. Somehow, you understand me anyway and that's a wonderful thing.

"Do you know where you live, Heath?"

I stifled a giggle. Heck yeah, I knew where I lived. This was one thing I could tell her that wouldn't aid her machinations in the slightest; wherever Ponyland was, I could assume with reasonable accuracy that Earth was not anywhere nearby.

"Crestview Apartments, Manhattan, New York, U.S. of A. Planet Earth, third rock from the sun," I rattled off with a cheeky grin. The worker pretended to write stuff down, but I was onto her. That must've sounded like complete nonsense and there was no way any of it helped her.

"Which room?" She asked. Mine wasn't the only confused look; both Thunderlane and Doctor Redheart joined me in staring at the unicorn as though she'd sprouted a second head. So off-put by this was I that I forgot to hide my reaction and left myself vulnerable.

"Uh...five-oh-nine, fifth floor." Again, she proceeded to write something down and I spent the scant seconds I was allotted trying to recompose my poker face. I was met with mixed results, my efforts cut off with another question:

"Do you know where you are?"

Not in Kansas anymore, Toto. I didn't bother to voice the joke, though; something told me it wouldn't exactly be appreciated. At least you get it, so my wit doesn't go completely to waste. I opened my mouth to spew out something clever and spiteful, perhaps to the effect of: 'no ma'am, no clue other than some pony hospital with pervert nurses.' Yeah, that'd be good. Maybe let her know I'm onto her, too, and she can't fool me with the weird questions and fake scribbling.

"Ponyville, Equestria. Second-largest country on planet Equus."

...what.

Do you know where that came from? No, don't look at me like that. I'm genuinely asking because I have no idea. Actually, now I'm freaking out because that information came from nowhere and that means I don't know where it came from and if that's true then how much else can I just randomly come up with and wait, what if that means I've actually just come up with everything and nothing matters any more so I might as well just--

No, you're right. I should calm down and think about this. I phased out while we were walking to and from the kitchen, so I could have easily overheard it then. Or maybe this pony body just comes with some knowledge built-in about my whereabouts? I honestly don't know which explanation is more likely, but the fact that they exist should be enough for now.

"...should talk about fostering. Thunderlane, he seems to like you. Would you and your herd be willing to take Heath in?"

My gaze shoots straight to the stallion as I tune back in. He looks deeply uncomfortable and hesitates to answer. It seems like he's purposefully avoiding my hope-filled eyes. He coughs, bows his head a little and...

...he rejected me.

Something hurt, deep inside. I won't be so cliche as to say my heart broke, but it stung to have my only ally turn on me like that. Worse, I didn't understand why and none of his cited reasons made any sense. Something about 'too much responsibility' and 'he wouldn't want to mess up' and 'too young for foals yet anyhow.' All bullcrap. Didn't he know that messing up would be leaving me behind? And I wasn't a foal; we'd only be the equivalent of roommates while I stayed. Sure, the system wouldn't see it that way but he'd figure out I was an adult like him and then he wouldn't have to worry about the responsibility! I could take care of myself! Heaven knows I've had to!

Ah, but I was showing too much emotion. Growing too attached. It wouldn't matter in the end; I would get out of here and back to my average life soon enough. Perhaps it was better that Thunderlane stayed distant and saved himself the heartache of watching me leave. I should have done the same. Instead I'm a blubbering mess as he bolts out the door.

Ugh, present tense again. Sorry about that.

"We can foster Heath."

I startle at the sound of Redheart's voice and realize--

Wait, no. Give me a second.

...

Abruptly, I startled at the sound of Redheart's voice and realized she'd come a few steps closer, ducking low to be about eye level with me as she held out a hoof. I offered the doctor my finest stink eye, but couldn't make myself shuffle back away from her. It was like all the energy in me had decided to take a trip to the Bahamas, leaving my pony body to lie there in a pathetic puddle of tears.

Jeez, that's just sad. Despite my best efforts, I was reduced to tears by the slightest betrayal. Some man I am. Can't even defend that.

Anyway, it didn't much matter what expression I gave the earth pony; she wasn't looking at me in the first place and instead appeared to be in a staring contest with the social worker.

"My herd and I, that is. We already have two foals to our name. And he's at least somewhat familiar with me."

I just realized I said 'earth pony.' Where'd I get that phrase? More built-in horse knowledge? Or did I simply eavesdrop without knowing?

"That sounds like the next best option. Would your husband be okay with it?"

What else have I been saying? I'm thinking back to all my descriptions and finding a worrying amount of suspicious knowledge. Did I know the term 'withers' before? What about 'pegasus?' I feel like that one's pretty mainstream so maybe it's passable, but there must be more that I'm forgetting.

"I'll ask once I head home tonight, but I doubt he'll have any issues. Same with the other mares."

That seemed to be the end of it, judging by how both ponies stood and headed for the door. I took a few steps after, but it wasn't long before rebellion blossomed and I planted my hooves in the carpet. Clearly, I'd done enough blind following and I needed to be more proactive. I wouldn't let these mares push me around everywhere, no matter how big, strong and scary they were.

Doctor Redheart opened the door and glanced back at me, quirking a brow at my disobedience. A question blazed to the forefront of my mind, one fused with enough impudence that I couldn't help but voice it:

"What if I don't want to be fostered?"

Okay, that came out far more petulant than I'd intended, but it still felt good to fight back. The social worker who still hadn't bothered to share her name paused, tapping her muzzle with a hoof. When she responded, her sugary 'talking to a kid' voice hid the threat about as effectively as a whale taking cover behind a single strand of kelp.

"Well, we'd have to track down any living family you have and hoof you over. From what you've told us about your herd, something tells me you wouldn't like that very much." I blinked, contemplating, while Redheart shot the unicorn an incredulous expression. She seemed dead serious and the message couldn't be more overt: Defy us, and we'll return you to suffering.

"Can't you just leave me alone? I can take care of myself." She actually burst out in giggles at that, waving dismissively at my unamused visage.

"Oh, definitely not. A foal, making it by themselves in the big world? What's more, a colt? I'd be fired in minutes! Burned at the stake!" The worker gave one last chuckle before making one last comment, "you're a riot, kiddo," and striding out the door without so much as looking back.

Both Redheart and I stood there, one in a shocked stupor and the other in silent consideration.

Alright, so it looked like rebelling wouldn't get me very far. It was about this point when I realized I didn't exactly have a plan of action. Granted, I hadn't done much, but that was exactly the problem. Blindly following ponies everywhere like a sheep wouldn't lead to my escape--and yes, I did need to escape. Sticking around for much longer would only lead to pain, the nurse had shown me that. The question, then, was how to get out.

I glanced over at my tiny chartreuse wings. Anyone with a lick of sense could tell they'd never support my weight--those primaries were five inches long, max--but maybe, if magic really was real here, they could help me out. I tried clenching various muscles on my back, but they remained stubbornly clamped to my barrel for now. Fruitlessly, I bit my lip and continued, straining with the effort.

Gosh, flying would be worth everything. Can you imagine? Just soaring high above the earth without a care in the world, every conceivable problem far, far below, unable to reach you.

"Well, Heath, it's time to get back to your room."

To her credit, the doctor seemed genuinely remorseful about it, so I didn't hold it against her all too much.

Her.

I had to be more wary. I couldn't trust Redheart, no matter what she did or how safe she seemed. Any minute now she'd turn on me, pin me to the wall and take what I knew she wanted.

I opted not to reply and simply trailed behind her when she turned to go, disgusted by my obedience.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry about that. I have no idea why she acted that way." I scoffed, rolling my eyes as I practically galloped to keep up with the doctor. Seeing this, she thankfully slowed her pace, but that only ensured my scornful glare into her oversized icy blue orbs reached full effect.

"I do: She's a female." That was answer enough, but Redheart still seemed confused as she led the way through the maze-like hallways. I cleared my throat and oh-so-matter-of-factly finished. "They love to scare people and make them suffer. You're all the same." She blinked and abruptly turned a corner, to which I struggled to catch up.

"I don't love making people suffer. I'm a doctor. Isn't that kind of the opposite?" I tensed and froze when we passed a nurse, but thankfully Redheart waited for me and even gestured for the other mare to hurry up when she hesitated. I was silent for a while, thinking the doctor's words over, but eventually came to a conclusion:

"No. It's probably just a cover so you can hurt even more people. You probably have to harm even more to make up for the ones you heal every day." Somehow, I meant every word despite the frankly-illogical nature of the argument. She saw this and fell silent, unable to come up with a good response.

Probably because there wasn't one.

I was tired, scared, and indescribably wary of what the next day would bring.

My only consolation was the hope that Redheart's husband would take pity on me and help me get out of here.

Let's cross our fingers, yeah?

Chapter Four - Potential Answers Are Withheld

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Doctor Redheart stared evenly at the closed door.

Behind it, she knew, was a troubled colt of unclear origin that desperately needed her help--more so than males usually did. It hadn't been long since she dropped Heath off at the room within; minutes at most, during which she'd stood and stared quite uncharacteristically.

Redheart was a mare of action, but the fatigue that'd overtaken her didn't seem much concerned with such personality traits. Even now, her head drooped to the floor as she absently recalled that her shift had been over two hours ago. The time had long passed since she was meant to be heading home, but there were some things the mare couldn't walk away from.

...and that was probably why she was left standing there in the hallway.

There was great hesitation felt in regards to leaving Heath unsupervised; the one time that'd happened, the colt had managed to seriously injure himself and there was no telling if he would again. Redheart hoped he had the sense to take it easy, but considering his age and gender, predicting Heath's actions was all but impossible.

What was more, if their suspicions were correct...

The doctor had conducted surgeries, amputated limbs, and had ample experience with needles. Nothing much phased her anymore.

But she still found herself shuddering at the thought.

Redheart struggled to back away from the door and begin her trip home. It felt like her mind had split along several different desires and, much to her chagrin, no clear course of action emerged. She ended up pulling an orderly aside when she passed the mare in the hallway, leaning close to mutter into her perked ears.

"Make sure the new colt is under surveillance; he may hurt himself if left alone." The orderly nodded, but Redheart noticed her incredulous expression even through her fatigue.

"Of course, doctor," the mare said in a tone that was less 'I will obey your order' and more 'obviously, you weirdo. Why would we do anything else?'

Redheart shrugged it off and carried on.

Next on her spontaneous to-do list was to visit the F.P.S. representative, Violet Mist. The social worker's behavior had been unacceptable and she intended to find out why. The paperwork and general bureaucracy required for fostering a colt would surely be immense, so the doctor figured her target wouldn't have left the building yet. Her hooves dragged on the polished, sterile floor and she caught herself stumbling far too often on her way back to the meeting room.

Sighing, the earth pony leaned against the doorframe of her destination, lifting a hoof to rub at her bleary eyes as she tuned in.

Doctor Redheart was familiar with Ponyville General. Had spent over thirty years of her life almost exclusively within its walls. The phrase 'knew it like the back of her hoof' fell entirely short of describing her grasp on the building. Countless times had she dashed through the halls, letting her knowledge of the structure guide her in the midst of an emergency. As Head Physician, her duties all but required complete and total attunement.

As any long-established building in Equestria, the hospital had a sort of life to it. Not just the poetic kind, used to describe bustling nurses and busy ponies. Magic had long suffused its walls and, being an earth pony, Redheart had special abilities with living things.

Again, the mare set off, turning down a different hallway as she followed the trail Violet Mist had left. It wound around the second floor a ways before finally seeming to find a staircase. The doctor stumbled down, scarcely managing a cordial nod to those she passed and regretting her choice not to have that seventh cup of coffee.

Soon enough, the blazing trail ended in a stereotypical office room, one set aside for various paperwork ahead of time and kept well-stocked with supplies. There the social worker sat, busily filling out several forms at once with pens held in her icy blue aura. The swivel chair she sat on squeaked as she shifted, but the unicorn never glanced behind her at the door, even when Redheart made her noisy entrance.

"Alright, what the buck was that about?" The doctor huffed, coming to a full stop as she squinted at the back of a pale purple mane. Violet Mist paused her writing, but stayed facing away and only turned her head a fraction.

"I'd have thought you'd be heading home already. Is there not another doctor ready to take her turn at the helm?" Redheart scowled, not appreciating the reminder, and stomped closer.

"Don't play games with me. I came personally to find the reason you threatened a foal under your care. A colt, no less." The earth pony straightened, feeling the heavy grasp of fatigue loosen under righteous fury. "If you don't give it, there will be Tartarus to pay."

Violet's ears perked up and she finally spun her chair around to eye the doctor's imposing form up and down. The social worker's eyes bulged when she saw just how dead serious Redheart was, as well as the locked door behind them she'd softly closed seconds prior. Instantly, Violet raised her hooves in a placating gesture, set the papers she was levitating down on the desk, and deactivated her horn.

"Please calm yourself, ma'am. I was only worried for your health. You seemed quite exhausted." The doctor's sole response was to raise an unimpressed eyebrow, her face carved from stone. The unicorn sighed, gazing up at it with a rueful expression. "Alright, you'll get your answers. Must you receive them immediately, though? Can't this wait until you've rested up?" Redheart contemplated the point, but not for very long.

"I have been entrusted with the care of dozens of males. I don't take threats to them lightly." She lowered her head until it was level with Violet's, all but staring into her soul. "You will tell me why you, a mare I contacted for help, saw fit to traumatize a colt under my care even further than he evidently is already. If you refuse, I will ensure you never get the chance to do so again." The social worker gulped audibly, again gesturing with her hooves while trying and failing to scoot her chair away.

"Fine, fine! Would you at least take a seat?" But Redheart refused and simply stood there, less to make a point and more because she feared sleep would claim her the instant she relaxed in any way. The representative, seeing this, sighed once more and began: "Heath is incredibly fearful of mares. Where this originates from, whether events in his past or natural coltish wariness, we'll have to investigate later. One thing was and still is clear to me," she pointed at the doctor with a hoof, nearly striking her chest for how close they were. "You, a mare, are going to foster him. Heath may be starting to trust you, but he's still unsure if you're really different."

The foreleg waved dismissively in the air as Redheart raised both brows and Violet finished. "I had to reinforce how much you stood out by acting exactly how he'd expect. Simple, really. I push him away from me and, consequently, make your job easier for you." That seemed to be the end of the social worker's justification, judging by her satisfied smile and abrupt silence. The doctor slumped, stumped by the unexpected nature of the answer, and sat in contemplative stillness for many moments.

"And you think that making him believe he'll ever be returned to potential abusers as punishment is somehow the best way?" Incredulity all but extinguished the raging fire of her wrath and now the earth pony could only stare at Violet, feeling fatigue return all too fast. The unicorn pursed her lips, but that sly smile soon returned and her horn relit to levitate the documents once more.

"Did he or did he not follow you back to his room of his own volition?" Redheart opened her muzzle to interject, but found herself at a loss for words. "That's right. You may not believe in my methods, but you can't deny their effectiveness." Violet swiveled back to face her desk, raising the pens in her aura in preparation to resume her task. "Now if you'll excuse me, doctor, I have some paperwork to do. And, if I'm not mistaken, you have a herd to get home to."

The earth pony wanted to argue, to protest this ethically-shallow manipulation with the well-tested moral compass she possessed. Still, the weight that descended down upon her once the anger left had no tolerance for such things. Thoughts of her waiting husband, herdsisters, and fillies filled her mind, bidding her turn to unlock and open the door.

"This conversation isn't over," she managed to mutter through slurred speech, but the social worker made no acknowledgement.

So, Doctor Redheart traveled on.

It was a simple matter to clock out for the night; decades of habit made the process effortless and anypony that took one look at her face saw that she desperately needed to go home. The system she'd established was a remnant of her time in nursing; Ponyville General, as a relatively large hospital, had enough doctors under its employ to support working shifts much like any other faculty member. To be sure, there were occasional hiccups--tonight being one of them--but it had proven to be a largely effective system regardless.

Crisp June air caressed Redheart's body upon her exit and she took a few seconds to stand there, breathing it in. Seconds became minutes and she jolted suddenly, swaying on legs that had nearly collapsed in the throes of sleep. The mare shook herself and let out a nicker of disapproval, settling into a light trot.

Ponyville was a small farming town, so any form of nightlife was all but nonexistent. Dark windows and closed doors were everywhere she looked and the near-silent streets compared to a bustling hospital felt almost like a slap to the face. The doctor's matted pink mane hung low over her eyes, obscuring her view of the night sky above. Normally she'd brush it aside and ensure she looked professional at all times, but the energy simply wasn't there.

Many crickets and the odd rustle echoed out from around her. Redheart's ears twitched minutely as they took in the sounds, swiveling in place while she worked to keep her head up. She slowed when another noise made itself known, eyeing her immediate surroundings with a raised brow.

"Hello?" Redheart asked before movement drew her gaze. A dark, vaguely-equine figure stood a ways away, shuffling toward her at a snail's pace. The earth pony squinted, craning her neck to peer into the dim moonlight, and approached. It had its head lowered, whatever it was, and its body language said it had the same lack of energy as her. With further proximity, she was able to make out a grey-blue coat and a spiky, navy mane. Finally, two pairs of eighth notes on the pony's flank had Redheart's eyes widening in recognition.

"Noteworthy!" Earlier in the day the doctor would have galloped, but instead she broke into a lurching half-canter as her legs nearly gave out. "What are you doing out so..." She paused right in front of the stallion, taking in his closed eyes and the string of drool hanging from his muzzle. "Of course. Sleepwalking again." Noteworthy continued to stumble right on by and she watched, blinking, before shaking her head and raising a hoof.

Ever-so-gently, Redheart made contact with the stallion's shoulder and shook it. Despite her best efforts, he immediately lost any sense of balance and keeled to the side, but she caught him with a foreleg and eased him upright. Doing so was effortless--even as an earth pony, Noteworthy was a stallion and thus lighter than air--but that still left him deep in Princess Luna's realm of dreams.

"Alright, plan B." The mare muttered, angling and guiding both herself and her charge until he walked face first into her chest tuft. The slumbering stallion stopped short, inhaling the scent for several moments before he grunted and his eyes finally opened. Noteworthy's golden irises flicked every which way, clouded by a confused haze, until they settled on Redheart's face and suddenly cleared.

"Doctor?" He inquired in a wispy tenor, muffled somewhat by volumes of white fur. The mare nodded, steadying him with her hooves before responding.

"Yes, Noteworthy. It's me. Are you feeling alright?" Her brows invisibly creased together as she looked down at him, but the rest of her expression became stoic and strong. The stallion blinked, seemingly taking time to ponder his situation, but eventually nodded back.

"Yeah. I'm just peachy. Was I..." He glanced around again, actually taking in the darkened street and high moon before returning his gaze to her with rueful eyes. "...again?" Redheart didn't need to nod; her shift in expression was all it took for the stallion to sigh and step back. She let him do so, but still kept a wary eye out lest he collapse again.

"Haven't you been taking the pills I prescribed?" Her brow raised at Noteworthy's sheepish expression and ventured further up her forehead when he opened his muzzle, failed to find words, then closed it and shook his head. "Is there a reason why?" Redheart did her best to keep any exasperation out of her voice, but the stallion still flinched away from the question.

"I...don't like the way they make me feel." Noteworthy stuck his tongue out and grimaced as though in memory. "Or how they taste." The doctor suppressed both a yawn and a sigh, lowering her head to be level with his.

"I'm very sorry about that, Noteworthy. But you must take them. Wandering out here in the middle of the night is incredibly dangerous. You know this." He scuffed his hoof against the ground and seemed properly ashamed, so the mare touched hers to his withers--lightly, of course, so as not to bruise him. "Are your mares not helping you? They must be worried sick--" unbidden thoughts of Heath flooded Redheart's mind and she stopped short, all but glaring at the stallion with sudden intensity. "They are treating you well, right? Because if something is happening at home then so help me--"

"--No! I mean--yes! We--we're all good. My herd is wonderful!" Noteworthy seemed genuine enough, but the doctor stayed right in his face for several moments more, searching for any sign of anything.

He smiled sincerely, hesitating a little before adding: "I asked them not to make me take it. Made a huge fuss about it, too. Eventually, I convinced them that letting me have my way was better than listening to my whining all night." The stallion returned her gesture, stumbling as he lifted his foreleg and all but punching her shoulder in search of balance. The mare didn't so much as blink from the impact, it being slightly stronger than a soft breeze. "My mares are good. We love each other. There's nothing going on. I promise."

Finally convinced, Redheart stepped back, gently setting the stallion's foreleg on the ground as she forced herself to relax.

"Woe to the mare that dares disobey her stallion's whimsy. I'm sorry for assuming things about your herd, Noteworthy. I hope you'll forgive me. I just had to be sure." Noteworthy smiled softly, wiping the tears out of his eyes as he edged closer. "Let's get you back to them, eh? I'll walk you home." Her every tired cell resisted such a proposition, knowing he lived quite far from her own abode, but seeing a stallion safely home took priority over anything else. He definitely appreciated the offer, if his glancing around at the dim street and deep sigh of relief was any indication.

"Thanks, doc. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for the trouble." Redheart gave a wordless nod in reply and off they went.

She remained vigilant throughout the journey, watching intently for dips in the paths or any stray stones that might be a tripping hazard for her charge. Several times, Noteworthy nearly strode right into several of such things, but luckily she was there with a swift nudge to guide him around them. A tumble would have been catastrophic and Redheart simply didn't have the magic left to treat another male's injuries.

Forlornly, the doctor watched her own house pass by as they walked at the stallion's pace. It was the only building with lights on in sight, showing at least some of her herd was waiting for her return. She knew her husband likely wouldn't be sleeping with her not home; he had a bit of an anxious streak, despite his best efforts to hide it. A picture came to mind of him sitting just behind the doorway, sandwiched by her herdsisters as they tried futile comforts, ears perked forwards in search of hoofsteps from outside...

A rush of guilt--powerful enough to be felt past the fatigue--made her shake away such thoughts and focus on the task at hoof.

And soon enough, the house passed on by.

"Almost there," muttered Noteworthy. His escort barely stifled her sigh of relief in time, but managed to keep her projection of strength and emotionlessness uninterrupted. Redheart walked right across several loose and wobbly cobblestones, but turned to offer a supporting hoof before letting her companion do the same. He took it, grinning in gratitude, and all but collapsed onto her raised foreleg when his knees buckled.

With no more effort than if she'd done it without the weight of his body, the doctor lifted her leg a few inches higher and took several steps forward on the remaining three. Noteworthy was again set gently on the ground and he chuckled to himself as she took the lead.

"You mares, heh..." He shook his head, breaking into a canter to catch up. "Sometimes I forget just how...imbalanced...things are." Redheart allowed herself another raised brow, glancing over at him as they rounded the final bend.

"That's why it's so dangerous for you to be unaccompanied, Noteworthy. What if you'd fallen on a rock while sleepwalking? Stepped on a loose stone? Or what if somepony tried to take advantage of you in the dead of night?" The stallion had been nodding along until her last statement, upon hearing which he cocked an eyebrow of his own and incredulously glanced back at her.

"In Ponyville, doc? I doubt anypony who dared try would get away for long." The confidence he said this with was immense, but Redheart found she still couldn't believe them fully. Perhaps because thoughts of Heath still hadn't left her mind.

"You'd be surprised." Noteworthy clearly wasn't convinced, but her next statement cut any retort short: "Looks like we're here."

A modest home greeted them, cozy and undeniably Ponyville in appearance. Furnishing and various decorations suggested it being a stallion's residence, but the true indication was the herd emblem inscribed on the door. Three pairs of eighth notes, a golden lyre, three wrapped candies and a pink treble clef all entwined together in a stylized fashion. It was unmistakably the sign of the town's most musical herd.

Ponyville law mandated that every full herd have their emblem emblazoned on their home's doors. It was just one of the many measures that ensured any lost males were safely returned, no matter the cost.

"Thank you again, doctor. I really owe you one." Noteworthy ascended the steps and reached for the handle, but paused and gave a questioning look when the doctor followed.

"I'd like to speak with one of your mares." Redheart's muzzle formed a reassuring smile, but it failed to mask the steel in her icy blue eyes. "This can't continue." He winced in reaction, offering a tentative grin.

"It won't, I promise. Please don't yell at my wives about it. Really, it's my fault." When she didn't move, he sighed and placed a hoof on her chest, into which it sank several inches thanks to the fur. "I'll tell them to make me take the pills myself. After tonight, I'm too guilt-tripped to do anything else. You have your own herd to get back to, right? I'm sure they're waiting." Noteworthy was insistent but appeared sincere, and that meant she was out of options.

Barging into a herd's home uninvited in the middle of the night wasn't something civilized mares did outside of an emergency. Since the stallion had every intention to take care of the problem himself, her further interference wasn't needed. Upon realizing this--and reflecting on his words--Redheart let out a deep sigh.

"You're right. But please do as you say. I'll be following up on this later." Noteworthy nodded and gave another smile, opening the door and taking a few steps inside as the interaction concluded.

"As you should. I'll see you then, doc."

With an answering nod, the door closed.

Her remaining tasks dwindled to one.

Doctor Redheart was free to return home.

Any joy that might have arisen from this development was buried deep. The mare's hooves dragged instead of skipped as she turned back the way she'd come. A stiff breeze blew her pink mane back, letting her gaze up at the June night sky. A few constellations caught her attention and her eyes traced the elegant forms of Aeo, Faren, and Pseudocles, slightly different compared to last night thanks to Princess Luna's experimentation. Ramdar and the Four Tribes were hidden behind cloud cover, but Redheart had never been too interested in those ones anyway.

Really, she was only focusing on constellations to avoid collapse into slumber.

Belatedly, the earth pony's home came into view for the last time that night. She picked up the pace as she approached, breaking into a trot, then a canter, then a near gallop until finally, finally, her hooves crossed the porch and landed on the front handle.

Redheart didn't give herself any time to contemplate the emblem on the door as it all but flew open. She was too focused on the relieved and delighted expression on the masculine face of the pony inside.

"I'm home," she breathlessly announced.

Immediately, the beige forelegs of her husband ensnared themselves around her neck and she found herself enveloped in a passionate kiss. Closing her eyes to enjoy it to the fullest, she felt herself tipping to the side, unable to remain upright, but thankfully a presence on Redheart's left buoyed her up in time.

She was the first to break away, panting softly as she gazed into her lover's royal blue eyes and returning the heartfelt nuzzle that followed.

"I missed you..." He murmured, somehow expressing hours of worry in those three short words. Redheart kissed him again, lightly, on the nose, and expressed her apology by touching their foreheads together.

"I know, Whoovsie. I missed you too." The stoic mask she'd been wearing with Noteworthy melted away entirely in the presence of her herd. Redheart's husband Time Turner was able to take full stock of her fatigue, as could her herdsisters. She'd never hide from her family. Not like that.

"Rough day at the office?" Minuette asked from beside her, grunting softly as she shifted under the white mare's weight. As a female earth pony it wasn't exactly dismissible and the unicorn visibly struggled before resorting to levitation. Redheart felt herself lifted off her weary hooves in her herdsister's yellow aura, still entangled in their affectionate husband's forelegs. Time Turner had taken to burying his snout in her neck and breathing in the scent, letting its calming narcotic effect take root of his mind.

Redheart didn't bother to open her eyes, knowing she and her husband were being carted upstairs to the master bedroom and, from the two sets of hoofbeats echoing behind, her herdsisters were coming too. The thought of being put to bed like a disobedient filly despite being Alpha Mare was hardly amusing, but she found she was too tired to care.

"Like you wouldn't believe," was the earth pony's response. The sound of light switches flicking off, interspersed with the swirling sound of the magical aura both she and Time Turner were encased in, reached her drooping ears. Then, another voice.

"It must've been something really bad," said Ditzy. "You're not usually this tired. What happened?" Her tone was inquisitive, but also not a little accusatory. The undertone of 'it better excuse you making our stallion worry for three hours' was very much present. Redheart sighed and started drawing circles on her husband's back with a hoof--gently, of course, so as not to bruise him.

"There's a...colt," she began, pausing to peck her lover's mane when he shivered under her ministrations. "His name is Heath. Flitter and Cloudchaser brought him in, said they found him on the edge of Ponyville. He has...scars...consistent with--" Redheart clenched her closed eyes, swallowing the lump in her throat and focusing on her breath for several moments.

The creak of a door's hinge, then she was settled on a plush surface she recognized as their nest. One massive, circular mattress covered in sheets, blankets, and pillows, modelled after that of a bird. Comfy and practical, much to the satisfaction of every party involved. "We stitched him up and put Heath in the youth ward, but he woke sooner than expected. Managed to hurt himself far too badly not to be concerning. Tore open his leg and broke his muzzle in three places."

Gasps from all three other herdmembers finally had the white earth pony opening her eyes. Ditzy looked horrified, so much so that her lazy eye had straightened while both pupils shrunk. Minuette's expression was grim, from what she could see in what scant light came through the window. Poor Time Turner clutched at her neck and pulled himself yet closer against her, still shivering. Tired, worried, and scared: Those were the emotions that tended to made her husband cuddly, and right now, the trifecta was complete.

"He's okay now. I healed him up and saved his life. It took a lot out of me, especially regenerating the lost blood, and that's why I'm so tired. But listen," Redheart's tone grew urgent and the others leaned in. "Heath needs a new home. His previous herd is..." She paused, seething, but continued: "...unfit to raise a colt, that much is clear. Since he and I'd had some experience together, I offered us as a foster home. I know it's a lot to take in, but even though he's very troubled I hope--"

Ditzy placed a hoof over the earth pony's muzzle, cutting her off from rambling any more before she offered a sincere smile.

"Of course, Red. I think I speak for all of us when I say we don't have a problem with that. I'm sure Dinky and Amethyst will be thrilled to have a brother!" Vehement nods accompanied this notion and Redheart found herself relaxing as the stress of the day finally left.

"Thank you. I really appreciate it."

Minuette lit her horn in a yellow aura, levitating the various blankets and bodies around until everypony was comfortably situated.

"And on that note, I think we should sleep. Let's worry about all of it tomorrow."

Again, vehement nods accompanied this sentiment, from Redheart most of all.

The day had been long, exhausting, and rife with confusion. But she knew that, with her herd behind her, she could take on anything.

Finally, belatedly, gladly, Doctor Redheart dozed off.

Chapter Five - Freaky Flip-Flop Family Fostering

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Beds are a most ponderous creation.

I have to wonder at what point the current model was decided upon. Sure, there are slight variations in style and appearance, but, at least in my experience, differences between designs are marginal at best. Four legs, a headboard, ample room on the high-quality mattress...

...alright, you caught me. I've never once slept on a good mattress. But hey, a guy can dream, right?

Pun intended, by the way, because despite the usual poor quality of my sleep, I do dream quite often. Mostly about the mundane things in life, like going to school, taking walks through the town, and immersing myself in stories. I don't really have nightmares--or, maybe it's just that I don't consider them that scary anymore. After long enough, you kind of just get used to things, y'know?

Beds.

I have had ample experience with beds, if not high-quality ones. They don't frighten me much anymore, since I realized a while ago that it wasn't the mattress' fault what happened atop it. The same is true for all sorts of creations. Things can hardly be held accountable for what they're forced to do, right? And maybe that even applies to people. Desperation and prevailing authority can make anyone crumble, but it's not their fault, right?

Heh. If only it was that simple.

I'm lying atop a bed right now. It's the one in my hospital room. Kinda stiff and too high off the ground for my tastes, but the soft linens and fluffy pillows are quite pleasant. I'd rate it a solid eight out of ten.

I'm really tired, so it probably feels nicer than it is. That's why I'm not thinking in past tense, by the way. That takes concentration and energy that I don't seem to have after recent happenings.

...what? Don't look at me like that! You want me to go to sleep, don't you?

That's utterly ludicrous. I don't think I've ever heard anything that makes less sense in my entire life. You do realize where I'm at, right? A weird horse hospital that's run exclusively by females? I can't think of any places that would be less safe to lose consciousness in. Heck, the last time I fell asleep in here--unwillingly, mind you--I woke up to a psycho nurse making every effort to scare my newfound chartreuse coat off.

No, what I need to do is find a way out.

Yeah, as if that's going to happen. I'm stuck in a brand new quadrupedal body that's only half-operational, one too weak to even open the window, let alone run away at any serviceable clip. I'd make it maybe a mile before collapsing, especially with how tired I am. The hallways are even less of an option; given how many nurses and orderlies we passed on the way here, sneaking by simply will not work.

Worse still, they're watching me.

I can see a blocky black device attached to the ceiling's corner, occasionally blinking a small red light. I don't know whether it's mostly magic or they've just created different technologies out of order, but I know it's a camera. They're watching. Just waiting for me to fall asleep and drop my guard. Or perhaps they're looking to see me try to escape and mete out punishment after. They--the mares running this place, that is--might even be waiting for Redheart to get far enough away before...

...I'm not making much sense, am I? I hope you'll forgive my paranoia--it's just that it has served me quite well in the past. The truth is, I'm really scared. This whole situation is starting to sink in and I'm not prepared to deal with it. Was my average, contented life truly so irksome as to warrant this?

I know, I know. Complaining doesn't help anything. I should shut my mou--er, muzzle before I go on a pointless tirade.

...

...I'm glad you're here with me. You are...the only friend I have left, pathetic as it sounds.

Sorry, it's just that someone told me a long time ago to focus on what I'm thankful for, that it makes hard times easier. I'm thankful for you.

It's been some hours since I last thought to you. I had to give myself time to stew. I've managed to refrain from sleep for the most part--dozing a little here and there before catching myself. I think the sun is almost up. I'm watching the sky change color from the window right now.

It...it's beautiful.

Living in Manhattan, you just don't get to see things like this. I'd describe it to you if I had the words, but I think I'm too tired anyway.

Gosh, it sure is breathtaking. Ponyville--that's the town we're in, as least as long as I overheard correctly--is such a quaint little place. It almost seems sheltered from the harshness of reality--a little hamlet of tranquility in an otherwise cruel and unforgiving world. I can see ponies waking up, just now exiting their doors and heading down the cobblestone streets. Along the way, they meet friends and strangers alike, but all are treated with gracious greetings and cheery attitudes.

I'm grateful to see this from here. It's almost enough to take my mind off things.

I just have to wonder, y'know? What it would be like to fit right in with those ponies. To live carefree like that, without dreading what is soon to come. Just...wiling the days away among friends and acquaintances, spending years with a family that isn't out to get me. One that cares. That loves me in a way that doesn't make me want to throw up or fight back or call the authorities.

I'm finding my gaze drawn especially to the sky and the pegasi soaring through it. If I had the energy, my own wings might be buzzing in ecstasy and anticipation. They look so graceful up there. Untethered.

Free.

Through my blurry vision I can make out a pair of grounded ponies approaching the hospital. The one's white coat and pink mane catches my attention and I straighten, hurriedly wiping the moisture from my eyes. Despite my haste, I can catch only a few more glances of them before they round the bend and leave my window.

That was definitely Doctor Redheart, though. It almost looked like a stallion with her, too. I found my spirits lifting with hope at that thought.

...sorry for the abrupt change in tense. I'm going to try using past from now on. It'll help me stay alert. You'll let me know if I start slipping, right? That will probably mean I'm starting to lose consciousness. If that happens, I'll need to get to a safe spot as soon as possible.

Alright. Past tense. Here we go.

I hopped down from the window in short order, trotting over to the middle of the room. I had the feeling that someone would be entering soon, so I decided to keep my eyes on the door. Any assailants would not get the drop on me, at very least, so preparation was key.

I stayed there, sitting on my haunches before the entrance, for quite some time. Surprisingly, I found myself hoping a certain doctor would be the one to open it, though any explanation evaded me entirely. The anticipation was starting to get overwhelming. My vision tunneled towards that looming door and a pit of cold dread formed itself in my chest as time wore on.

The approaching clack of hoofsteps only raised my anxiety. I was shaking, hyperventilating as they stopped just outside. When the handle turned and the door cracked open, I'd already stood and begun backing away.

Imagine my relief, then, when the pony who stepped inside happened to be exactly who I wanted to see.

"Redheart!" My child voice squeaked and I stumbled before I could gallop any closer. Really, this was fortunate; no matter how much I wanted to, there was no way I could trust the mare. Despite knowing this, I was somewhat surprised to find a large part of me yearning to throw myself into her arms--er, forelegs. It was looking like my new foal body had some impulses I'd need to restrain.

I wasn't the only one shocked; Redheart paused and furrowed her brows at me while tilting her head. Apparently, she hadn't expected I'd be so happy to see her.

I fumbled, standing with haste and splaying my legs against the tile floor. I needed to regain control of the situation before she got the idea that I liked her. Soon enough, she'd reveal her true intentions and that would hurt far worse if I ever got attached.

"Don't come closer!" I commanded, wincing at the crack and waver in my voice. Thankfully, the doctor listened and promptly sat, just barely inside the room. Instinctively, my muscles loosened and I grimaced in displeasure, still fighting the urge to run to her. Redheart smiled gently and lowered herself until she was laying down, tucking her legs in much like a cat 'loafing'.

"Don't worry, Heath. I'll stay right here. Nopony's going to approach you."

Now, admittedly, the mare didn't exactly look threatening like this. As seconds wore on, I had no choice but to relax and settle down on the floor in like fashion. It wasn't like I had the energy to be tense for too long, anyway. When Redheart opened her muzzle again, I perked up and raised a brow at the words to follow: "I brought somepony I'd like you to meet."

Into the room stepped another earth pony with a beige coat, dark brown mane, and blue eyes, wearing a freshly-pressed green bowtie.

He was a stallion!

"Greetings, good chap. My name is--!"

The introduction was cut short when I cannoned straight into his legs. The stallion stumbled, barely catching me and rocking with the momentum. I gripped him tightly and stared up with intensity, waiting for him to return the look with a shocked expression before I spoke.

"Will you help me?" My voice was small and hushed, as though on some level I didn't want Redheart to hear. He paused, blinking, but after many moments gave a firm nod.

"That is my intention, Heath." I didn't question how he knew my name. I was too desperate for any measure of support.

"Thunderlane left me..." I was going to say more, but sudden emotion closed my throat. I must have looked quite pathetic, sitting there with giant teary pony eyes and a sad little frown. The stallion wrapped me in a tight hug, leaning close to whisper in my twitching ears.

"My name is Time Turner. I won't."

It took longer than my pride liked at all to pull myself together. This colt body was putting me through all the emotion and, unlike before, I didn't have the maturity to suppress it. Rivulets of salty water spilled from my eyes and left wet splotches all over my face and his coat. He started gently rocking and humming some melody in a soft baritone voice, which did help to some degree. I was doing my best to not be present in those moments, but it was like his presence forced me back to reality whenever I tried to mentally leave.

Eventually, it all just petered out and I slumped in Turner's grip, utterly spent. It was only then that I could escape, going momentarily to a brighter place. When I returned to awareness, we'd left the room and were walking down the hall, Redheart leading and me leaning into Turner's leg for support. It couldn't have been more than a few minutes I'd spent away, but I was grateful nonetheless for the break.

Sorry for just summarizing things, by the way. I figure you know enough now to not be as interested in the finer details.

Right! Past tense!

We ended up in a lounge I recognized from yesterday, with the same unicorn mare holding a clipboard waiting inside. She had an unpleasant sort of look on her face and I hated the way her eyes tracked me across the room as we made our way in. I half-expected her to lick her lips or something, the predatory vibes were that strong. Probably the only reason I wasn't freaking out was because I had my good pal Time Turner right there. With me very much on edge, we made our way to the sofa and sat across from her.

"The purpose of this meeting is to finalize foster proceedings and restate the situation plainly for transparency's sake," the violet mare said, her gaze lingering on my lethargic form. I returned the stare, making every effort to look defiant despite my lack of anything resembling energy. "Heath was found and brought here from Ponyville's border. There are no records of any colts matching his description in this or any surrounding town's databases. He has not told us much about where he is from or his herd and, colts being as they are, will not easily provide much more information."

It was unsettling how accurate that statement was. I had no intention of sharing anything I hadn't already; the more they knew about me, the more they could use to inflict harm. This mare clearly understood much of my thought process, then. All the more evidence to show she was up to no good.

Truthfully, I didn't know why I was going along with all this. Maybe because I was so discombobulated thanks to suddenly waking up in ponyland. Perhaps Time Turner and--to a smaller extent--Redheart were appealing enough that staying with them until I figured things out didn't seem like a bad thing. It could possibly have been that I had no better alternative anyway. What was I going to do, walk out? Try and dig my way back home?

No, obviously not. A plan was beginning to form, though: I'd bunk with the ponies I was sitting between and together they'd be able to hold the rest of their herd off. I'd gain access to a library or archives and study dimensional travel to see how I ended up here. Once that was done, I'd contact the nearest wizard or whatever and say my goodbyes.

Simple, right? And yet every step of that plan leaned on far too many unknowable factors. Would I really be safe with the rest of their herd? I knew magic existed here and was used quite casually, but that didn't guarantee any kind of multiversal study. And even if these ponies knew about other dimensions, that didn't mean I'd be able to access or find my home.

Despite the flaws in my plan, I found my spirits lifting with hope. For the first time since waking up here, I actually had a plan of action. I wasn't pessimistic enough not to appreciate that much.

"...you and your herd are to care for Heath as your own until then," Violet Mist addressed Redheart. I realized I hadn't been paying attention at all, which was bad seeing as current events were dictating my future. Luckily, it seemed nopony had directly tried to interact with me. "If new evidence reveals his actual herd aren't abusive, as is possible and perhaps likely, he will promptly be returned with all due apologies."

I found myself bristling at that. Even though I hadn't gone into detail or communicated more than a look, the idea that they were already prepared to disbelieve me hurt. Moreover, being somehow returned to my family... I had to wonder what lengths they might go to. Suddenly, going back to earth didn't seem all too great anymore.

"Try and get all the information you can. If holes in Heath's story appear," I was absolutely certain I didn't imagine the dangerous glint in Violet's eye, but just as sure that neither earth pony I was sandwiched between took notice, "I will ensure swift corrections are made." My glare was weak; I knew who held the authority here and I was well aware of how powerless that made me.

There was no chance anypony could learn more about me. If any more information got out, Violet Mist would make my life here miserable. Redheart and Turner might even get caught in the crossfire.

The meeting continued, but I was too enervated to care. A prickling anxiety was beginning to take hold. If I screwed up, let something--anything--loose, that would be it. Game over. Violet would ensure I never saw the light again.

One more burden to carry, I suppose.

Sorry for the fragmented thoughts. I'm not making much sense, am I? The truth is, that mare really intimidates me. The fact that she can so easily ruin everything, it...

...well, it reminds of home. She's got an amount of power over my life that I can only dream of having. Oh, the fond memories that brings.

At this point, I'm kind of collapsed against Turner's side. I feel heavy bags under my eyes and the urge to close them is only intensifying. I blink slowly and slip deeper. Hey, sleep doesn't sound too bad, y'know?

No, wait! I can't... there was something...!

...Oh no...

...

I jolted awake atop an incredibly soft surface, the scent of strawberries invading my nostrils. Reaching my forelegs around revealed I was moving on something long before I could finally separate my crusty eyelids. When they did open, I saw I was draped along Redheart's white back as she walked through the streets of Ponyville. Time Turner's presence beside her helped me calm down, especially when he trotted closer to check on me.

That all happened some few minutes ago. I've opted to stay where I am since then; Redheart's back is very comfortable and I don't trust myself not to collapse if left to my own devices. If anything awful were to happen, it'd be when I was unconscious anyway.

If the view from the hospital was stunning, now, in the midst of the streets, I'm utterly breathless. Ponyville is practically drowning in small-town charm.

Something that does catch my attention, though, is how many mares there are. They populate every corner and open space in sight--there's not an angle I can look where I don't see at least three of them.

Worse, they're clearly interested in me. They don't even bother trying to hide their prolonged looks or hurried murmurs. Some even follow behind for a few steps, which is terrifying enough that I'm clinging to Redheart as tightly as I can.

Sticking with direct sentences is really helping. My mind wants to wander right now and I need to keep focus. I don't think I can concentrate enough to revert back to past tense.

I...really need more sleep. I only slept an hour or so, according to Time Turner. Being this tired really stinks.

Can't rest. Mares everywhere.

We make it to what is evidently Redheart's home. She takes a moment to explain the elaborate symbol on the door--a 'herd emblem,' as she calls it. I recognize the red cross and hourglass inside it from my new caretakers' flanks and I wonder if the other composite symbols come from others in the herd. I'm interested, but Turner opens the door and leads us in before I can ask any questions.

Wow, this must be way less interesting for you. What kind of storyteller am I, stripping away all but the barest parts of my words? I'm sorry. You deserve better than that. Let me make it up to you by describing the house. I'll try to stay coherent.

The inside of the house is, while not extravagant, certainly not lacking. Elegant paintings are well spaced along the walls, depicting a wide array of landscapes from snowy mountains to rolling hills and everything in between. The living room--or, at least, what I can see of it from the front hallway--is well-furnished with two sofas and a recliner, with a coffee table in between. The ceiling is quite high, but a set of stairs to my left reveals there's at least one floor above it. Once Redheart steps through the hallway, I'm able to take a look at the well-stocked kitchen adjacent to the living room, with many cabinets and a counter that are far beyond the reach of my stubby pony legs. I'm not sure how horse economy works, but my overall impression is that this herd is quite well-off.

Aw, crap. That was a lot of 'wells,' wasn't it? That just goes to show how tired I am. I can't even think of any other adjectives to avoid repetition.

Hurriedly, I hop down from Redheart's back and duck behind her. Two ponies--females both--are sat on one of the couches, staring me down with far too much interest. This isn't good. The other herdmares are already after me!

I edge over to Turner--who's standing around quite easily, as though ignorant of the obvious danger--and frantically tap his fetlock before whispering my request.

"Do I have a room?"

The stallion opens his mouth to interject. It almost seems like he wants me to 'meet' the mares. All it takes to stop that, though, is one look at my terrified face and the way my eyes track their every move. I watch the words die in his throat as he heaves a heavy sigh.

"Up the stairs, far end of the hall. Make yourself at home, Heath."

That's all the invitation I need! I'm on the second story and zipping into the room before I can even think to check if anypony's following me. I manage to slam the door closed behind me, but I can't reach the lock on the handle so I lean my body against it as a barricade instead.

I'm freaking out.

I'm terrified.

Please help me.

...

...at least you're here.

...

...okay. Okay. I think... I think they're going to leave me be for now.

I can never tell for sure, you see; their changing moods make predicting their actions impossible. Something that incited punishment yesterday might be totally fine now. After all these minutes, though, I can be fairly certain that nothing's going to happen, at least yet.

A relief, if small. Nonetheless appreciated.

This gives me time to think. Maybe now I can make my escape.

I've heard tell of a town not too far from here. If I hitchhike on a few trains, perhaps pausing for directions, I can get there no problem. Supposedly, it's quite friendly.

It might even be far enough that they won't find me. Maybe then I can be free. Maybe then, I can live happily on my own, unbothered by anyone.

Maybe then...

Maybe then, you'll finally forgive what I did.

And then maybe you'll actually--

Knock

...

Don't worry, it's just Time Turner. He's asking if he can come in.

...

I told him 'yes'. Now he wants me to get out of the door's way. I suppose that makes sense.

...

It's hard. my limbs feel frozen stiff. I feel so disoriented, like I have no idea where I am. The walls I've been emptily staring at for what must've been an hour now are finally coming into focus. The room looks nice, like the rest of the house. I could see myself settling in here. It's a pretty generic guest room, but that just reminds me of my apartment back in Manhattan when I first moved in. The fun was in customizing it--making it my own. I can already imagine an oaken bookshelf here, a navy blue nightstand there. Some paint on the walls and ceiling. Maybe even glow-in-the-dark stars for cloudy nights when I can't see the real ones.

These thoughts stabilize me. I remember where I am, now, and I'm able to step aside, letting Turner in.

I feel... better. I'm even going to switch to past tense to prove it.

Here we go.

"I'm sorry, Heath. We shouldn't have tried to introduce you immediately like that. I thought..." Turner shook himself and settled down, but not before gently closing the door behind him. I sat in like fashion, blinking curiously up at his saddened expression. "...are you alright? I should hope you're not too terribly shaken." It took a moment of introspection for me to come up with a response, during which I scooted closer. Unlike Thunderlane, Time Turner took my need for comfort in stride and draped a foreleg around my small withers.

"I'm okay. Just," I took a shaky breath, "don't expect me to be around them. I know they're out to get me." He sighed again and started rubbing my back, causing my shivers to decrease. I shut my eyes and focused on trying to calm down, feeling my heartrate slow.

"I'm glad to hear that, Heath. I hate to say it, but..." It almost seemed like he was going to sigh again, but Turner pulled me close to his chest instead. "You will have to get used to relying on mares. My wives are wonderful ponies. They're not out to get you. I promise they just want to help." I didn't believe him, obviously. Maybe they treated him well, but I was a different story. I'd recognized that look on their faces. The light blue one had been all too interested in me and her gaze had wandered all over my body. The grey one had been so focused that her lazy eye snapped into place. I knew what that meant.

"Can you please keep them away from me? At least until we work things out?" I wasn't sure he understood what I meant by that, but at the same time, I didn't really care. More pressing matters were at hoof, primarily the fact that I was trapped back in a house with females that wanted to use me.

"What about Redheart?" Turner's question actually stopped me short. I blinked a few times and ultimately left my eyes open, staring out across the room. Moments passed with the stallion patiently waiting. Idly, I wondered how comfortable it could possibly be to sit propped on his haunches like this. Not very, I would think. His bowtie rustled as I leaned my head back.

"I don't know. I want to like her. Just like I want to trust you." He wasn't surprised by my insinuation, I could tell. We kind of just sat in silence for a while, both processing things and each other. I liked Time Turner; he was the kind of person I could simply sit with. We didn't even need to talk or interact any more than being in each other's presence to come to understandings. I was adamant that his wives were after me--since, y'know, they were--while he wanted me to feel safe here. Slowly, it was like I could sense him making up his mind.

Before Turner got the chance to speak, though, I finally processed something he said earlier and interrupted. "Wait, why would I have to rely on mares?" This derailed his train of thought entirely, but that was fine; I already knew he was going to agree to keep his wives off my tail.

"Because that is how the world functions, Heath. We depend on them for many things. Why, I don't know where I'd be without..." I slipped out of the stallion's grip, standing and turning fully to face him. Turner saw the look on my face and paused, creasing his eyebrows. "You mean you don't know? How can you..." thankfully, he halted that line of questioning pretty fast. I didn't exactly know how to tell him I was from an alien planet with sapient monkey people and, with how tired I was still, my explanation would probably be even less coherent.

Time Turner inhaled deeply and settled back on the floor, curling his brown tail around his side. With me standing and him laying down, we were about eye level. "I suppose I shall start at the beginning, then," he began. My ears swiveled to face him as I directed all of my attention. "Ponykind is a relatively odd race. While almost every other sapient species has an even gender ratio and magical power distribution between members, we... well, my theory is that we evolved quite strangely."

Turner straightened and engaged what I decided to call 'lecture mode,' using his hooves to gesture and bring emphasis to things. "Early protoponies and equines were the first and only ones to develop mana pools, which led to increased intelligence and magic use. This gave them a sort of 'leg up' in the race of natural selection. When more members survived, the species thrived. Soon, there was no almost no competition whatsoever, and we were free to live as we wished, left alone by any predators since we were simply too powerful." I cocked my head and laid back down, highly interested in the information. I mean, who wouldn't be? Alien lifeform origin story? Hello?

"Wait," said I, "so, ponies are the most powerful creatures and everyone else leaves us alone. Great, but none of that has anything to do with why I'd need to rely on mares!" With both of us 'loafing,' I came up to the base of his neck, but that only enhanced his sagely nod.

"You are correct, but evolution didn't stop there. Eventually, everything else caught up to our head start and we needed to find a way to get back ahead. As things were, with power levels evenly spaced, we had a net neutral lead of sorts. But if we could specialize, condensing more magic into fewer individuals..." A lightbulb of sorts flicked on above me and I couldn't stop a smile of eureka.

"--So, the more powerful members could fight the competition and survive much better than everypony collectively." Another nod and I realized my tail was wagging slightly from the excitement of discovery. The stallion noticed it too, but opted not to comment and continued instead.

"There is much debate in the scientific community over how exactly it happened, but my personal theory," he gave a quick wink, "is that the stallions of old got together and collectively decided to give their power to the mares. I believe our current gender roles were once reversed like every other creature, and in one massive show of chivalry we gifted them the ability to better survive the harsh wilds. Over enough generations of performing the same rituals, nature followed suit and it simply became permanent." My tail stopped wagging.

"So, mares are twice as powerful as stallions, and have a leg up on every other creature because of it?" To my horror, Time Turner nodded and cheerfully continued.

"Evolution wasn't even done there, however. With mares now so strong that survival wasn't an issue again, continued existence was all but guaranteed. Well, except for the fact that," he blushed. The grown stallion, father of two, actually blushed. "Reproduction requires both genders of a species and now one was significantly weaker than the other. Stallions began to fall prey to just about everything and our numbers declined. It fell to mares to protect us from the world's dangers. As such, natural selection picked traits that best allowed them to do so, while birth ratios began to skew so there'd be fewer stallions to worry about." He nodded to himself, still not noticing my expression, and finished up:

"Things have been that way ever since. The fact of the matter is, without as much magic to bolster our bodies, stallions are around four times more fragile than the average mare. And colts like yourself have it even worse, as with no magic whatsoever, you're around eight times more fragile. And that's only the start of how inferior males are!"

It boggled me, how he could say that all so nonchalantly. My plans of freedom and self-sufficiency were dissipating before my eyes. Devastated by this information, knowing I'd need to rely on those who only wanted to use me for the rest of my stay here, I could only bow my head.

That...this...it was beyond terrible.

Mares could do whatever they wanted. In life, to me, whatever. In this world, I'd always be powerless to stop them. If what Turner was saying was true--and it did check out with other things I had heard in passing--then I would never be able to fight back successfully against even one of them. And the stallion wouldn't be able to protect me like I hoped. Not really.

I needed some time to process this. Turner finally noticed my reaction and tried to backtrack, but understood what I wanted soon enough. He was sure to leave the door cracked open behind him, saying something about how dinner would be ready in a few hours. Kind of odd, really; it couldn't have been much later than noon. I supposed ponies had meals early.

The fact that we'd be eating at all was a relief. I didn't feel hungry at the moment, but experience had taught me that that was soon to change. I knew I should rest until food was prepared, having a young body that needed sleep and all, but even looking at the four-poster bed all neatly made for me couldn't make me feel tired.

It was actually kind of funny, in a dark sort of way. I'd stayed up all the night prior in hopes of warding off enterprising females waiting for me to go to sleep, but they could do what they wanted just as easily when I was awake. Looking back, there really wasn't much point to any of it.

That did bring another question to mind, though: If they could do whatever they wanted at any time, what had stopped them? Why weren't they barging through the door at this very moment to have their way with me? Too many witnesses? Societal expectation? Some base level of decency?

Pacing circles through the guest bedroom, I found my nervous energy required an outlet. After rifling through the closet and some greyish cabinets, I came across an empty notebook and some pencils. What purpose they served I didn't bother questioning at that moment--I was too busy with cracking it open and beginning to sketch.

Now, I wasn't an artist or a man of much talent in general--perfectly average, remember--but I knew the basics and desperation was a pretty good motivator for new hobbies. I could just as easily have started writing a poem or folding the paper like origami, but both of those required more concentration than mindlessly scribbling.

Drawing proved to be the exact thing I needed at that moment. Primitive stick figures evolved into clothed people with umbrellas waking down a busy street. I added angular buildings, some light rainfall, and several cars. Lastly, I capped the top with the underside of an umbrella, showing it was from the perspective of another person.

All told, it probably looked really bad, but creating the piece was a welcome distraction from the information I had received.

I'd show it to you if I could. I know I'd only get your honest opinion. It's a shame I can only describe things.

While appraising my work and picking out imperfections, I happened to glance up at the door and promptly recoiled in shock. Blinking and looking again revealed nothing, but that didn't change what I'd seen. Somepony had been watching me!

"Hello?" I called out. Seconds passed, but finally a sheepish face showed itself, nudging the door open. An orchid-colored face, to be exact, with a rounded muzzle to boot. Instantly, my eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Er, hi. Heath, right?" My nod was terse and it almost looked like she flinched, but the unicorn still stepped into the room. "My name is Amy." I blinked at the human-sounding name and, perhaps noticing my surprise, she quickly finished. "Short for Amethyst. Amethyst Star."

Yeah, that made more sense, though it did conflict with what was clearly a trio of diamonds on her flank. I had noticed that names tended to reflect those markings. And her mane was too dark a purple for it to be that. Actually, wait, it might've been the lighter streak in her hair.

"...you're not what I expected," she said quite awkwardly. I raised a brow, bemused, while Amy continued to approach. "I... heard my parents talking about you last night. They said you--" she cut herself off with a gasp, staring at my hindquarters.

I discovered a smile forming on my face. A sickly smile. The kind of smile a disillusioned soldier heading on a suicide mission would make. The kind of smile a victim of torture has after keeping tight hold of the information the warden wants so badly.

I found a calm of sorts descending on me. I couldn't explain it, but the feeling was a nice change of pace. There was no rage, no fear, no sensation of betrayal.

I only felt... something I couldn't really describe. It felt a lot like vindication.

"So. This is it, then." I stated with words far below freezing. Amy looked confused, especially at my grim grin. She'd stopped mere inches in front of me. I knew what happened now. "Going to take what you want before the others have a chance? Suppose there's a certain feeling of victory, eh? Conquest?" She blinked her purple eyes, uncomprehending.

"...what?" Amy asked intelligently.

"How old are you, Amy?" I was almost conversational with this question, even as I laid myself on the floor and pushed my notebook away.

"I'm sixteen," she responded, still obviously bamboozled. That was interesting--I would have guessed quite a bit older. She was so tall, I might have even mistaken her for an adult. There was a sort of humor to that. To this whole situation, in fact. A grand kind of humor that'd be sure to get an audience roaring. That, or make them recoil in horror.

"Plenty old, then, huh? I wonder where you'll start." I was so bold as to reach out, tapping away at her cannon bone. There was no point in resisting, after all. "The type to mosey on and take your time? Or will you get impatient and head straight for the prize?"

I had no idea where these words were coming from. I hardly even felt like myself at that moment. It was like the world had faded to a blur and my emotions followed suit. Something about knowing I was completely helpless, it was like nothing even mattered anymore. This was life. I could already feel myself preparing to phase out.

"Oh. OH! No, nonono!" Amethyst Star exploded backwards and shook her head with more rapidity than a fly's buzzing wings. Her mane was sent flying to either side while her pupils shrunk to pinpricks. She panted, suddenly short of breath, and it was several moments before she could speak again. "No, I-I'm not going to..." Amy's face took on a greenish tinge and it looked like she might vomit. "I-I was j-just... I..." She sat, heavily and halfway across the room, taking a deep, calming breath.

My brow found itself back against my cherry red hairline, where I was slightly concerned it would take permanent residence at this point. Amy fixed a steady gaze on me, but still looked shaken. "I was sent to tell you that dinner's ready. Lasagna and potato casserole, Dad's special. I'm to escort you downstairs." She stood, then, and cantered through the door before turning to look back at my prone form. "If you'll follow me...?"

I didn't move a muscle. I might've laughed if I wasn't dreading the meal to come.

"You really think I'll follow you?" I asked with no small amount of disdain. Amy flinched, shooting me a pleading look. When I failed to react, she sighed in defeat.

"I can get Redheart. Would... would that be better?" At my nod, she sighed again and left without another word.

The named mare arrived soon after. I still hadn't moved, more rattled than I cared to admit.

I had... absolutely no idea what just happened. I'd never reacted like that before. If I'd done what I did with Amy in front of my family, only horrors would follow. Stranger yet was the teen's reaction, as though she somehow found such an act to be exactly as reprehensible as it was, despite--

"--Heath?" Redheart interrupted. She was crouched down with her eyebrows creased in worry, some feet away from me. I finally snapped out of my thoughts and rose from the floor, striding over to her. My face found itself planted in her fluffy, white chest and the pleasant smell of strawberries overwhelmed my senses. This didn't last long--I realized how dangerous such an action was. It felt nice to let myself believe I was safe, though, if only for a moment.

"Let's go." I was drained and more or less resigned to my fate. Fatigue found me again and held tight.

We took off down the stairs without much ceremony. I stumbled occasionally, but Redheart was there to stabilize my lethargic form. It was only then that I really registered how strong she was. Carrying me must have been absolutely effortless.

The dining area was past the kitchen, opposite the living room. It, like the rest of the house, was well-furnished. A large, round table took up much of the space, around which seven cushions were arrayed. Amy's description of dinner rang true, as the same food she'd named sat waiting atop it. Time Turner was waiting for me just inside the doorway and he fell into step on my left, mirroring Redheart on my right.

The food was delectable. It didn't have quite the same sheer quality of Thunderlane's stew, but that just meant I wasn't sent into a rabid fit. I couldn't focus too much on it anyway, because I was far too busy tracking the mares opposite. My head was drooping. The bags on my eyes were getting heavier. I... I'm...

They're sat on the other end of the table and seem to be making every effort not to look at me.

They're still interested.

They're plotting, I can tell.

I'm so tired.

I'm slipping.

I'm falling.

It's so hard to stay. . .

Up.

I think...

...I think I'll just...

...

please make it stop

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i don't want to be here.

oh gosh.

she's here.

i need to

run

now

stay back

stay away

stay there.

please.

don't move.

don't...

...move.

...

Okay.

Okay, I'm... disoriented. I just woke up and, well...

You know how I said I didn't have nightmares anymore?

Yeah, uh... that changed. Real fast.

Someone must've put me back in bed. The four-poster one in my room. It does feel pretty nice, despite the torn blankets and deformed pillows.

Actually, those are probably from me thrashing around just now.

Redheart's here.

Gosh.

I'm glad she isn't moving.

She was looking at my drawing when I woke up. I think she was the one that brought me here.

How long has she been...?

How long have I been asleep?

...

A few hours, huh? And she hasn't left my side.

I...

...

Heh. I guess this is it, then.

No. NO! You'll have to try harder than--

--the--

...

The door is closed. This... I'm...

Too tiny to reach the handle. Too helpless.

A sitting duck.

Redheart's coming.

"Please, don't..."

I'm so weak.

...

She says 'it'll be okay'.

What a joke.

I can't even muster up a reply.

What's the point?

What's the point of anything?

She's got me in a hold.

So strong I'll never escape.

Her arms around me, pulling

constricting

asphyxiating

It'll happen soon.

She'll get tired of all the foreplay.

Please help. I'm scared.

...

squeezing

beating

breathing

...gross. So yucky. I don't want it.

You! You need to help me! I'm so, so

scattered

I need you to

talk

me.

I want--need--to hear your voice.

Please, please, just one word.

One little word and this will be so much easier.

I know you've been silent throughout this whole thing, but please. I really need this.

You can't just sit there looking at me. You can't. You're better than that. I know you are. I know because...

...please.

please

please...

her scent invades my nostrils. It's harsh, cloying, repulsive. It's everywhere. And still the pulling, yanking, pounding...

PLEASE!

TALK TO ME!

...

...please

...

You used to talk to me.

That's how I know. We had the grandest times together, you and me.

We'd travel to the park together and play games there. You always loved 'tag', even though it was only the two of us. We ran races, too, and you always won those.

I remember... your voice.

Your laugh. Oh, how I loved your laugh. I'd tell the stupidest jokes and you just couldn't control yourself.

You told the coolest stories, too. I recall being captivated while you spun a tale of one-eyed alien space pirates. You're so much more creative than me. Back then, you never let me forget it, either!

I looked up to you, y'know.

Such great times we had together. Don't you remember?

...

Of course. How could you forget?

But it changed when I...

... I...

I screwed up. Really bad. I hurt you.

Really bad.

I'm sorry.

I'm so

sorry.

For everything I did.

For the things I said.

Listen,

I'm just an average guy now, see? Nothing interesting whatsoever about me. It's pathetic, really.

I'm determined to fix it. To make up for what I did.

I'm trying

hard.

And I'm still scared. I need you to speak.

So please, in the name of all the years we spent together,

forgive me.

...

Please forgive me.

...

Please forgive me.

...

You don't need to forgive me

...

You can be as angry as you want! At this point, I'll take anything.

...

They don't have to be words.

...

Yell at me. Do it. Express your hatred.

...

WHY! WHY WON'T YOU DO ANYTHING?!

...

............... please............................

...

Fine.

After long enough, my screaming dies down and I feel a warm blanket settle over my body.

It's nice. It's heavy, but just the right amount to feel snug without being oppressive.

It's the kind of blanket that's fuzzy, so I rub my face into it, drying my tears.

It's the kind of blanket that smells good, like freshly-picked strawberries.

It's the kind of blanket that doesn't judge me for outbursts. The kind that's there to pick up my pieces. The kind that's been around me the whole time since I woke up here and still hasn't made any advances.

...

It's the kind of blanket that deserves an apology.

"I'm sorry, Redheart."

...

Heh. She asked 'what for'.

"For being so uncooperative. For being ungrateful for all you've done for me. For..."

...

"...for thinking you wanted to use me. You're not that kind of pony. I'm sorry for thinking you were."

...

I like Redheart.

I Trust her.

This feels... right.

...

She forgave me. Told me to call her 'Reddie,' or 'Mom,' whichever felt better.

I think I will.

...

I think I'm going to stop bothering with you.

Clearly, There's no repairing the damage. I don't know why I bothered trying.

You probably listen solely because you have to, huh?

Fine. I'll shut up. You won't even have to hear from me again. How does that sound?

Goodbye.

......

.....

...

Chapter Seven - Curiosity Killed The Filly

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"Dinky, no!" Hissed Amethyst Star as she tailed her sister, stepping quietly in a vain attempt to dampen all the sound.

"Dinky, yes!" Cheered the little filly as she all but bounced up the stairs, giggling on her way with the innocence and exuberance of youth.

Amy groaned and continued to chase her, but the late hour meant she dared not catch up for fear of making a ruckus. The youth winced with every creaking step as they ascended, with Dinky zooming ahead before pausing in the middle of the hallway. The grey filly had a leg raised, peeking back at her sister's exasperated expression with a playful smile.

"You coming, Amy?"

The unicorn in question let out a breath of disbelief.

"No, I'm not, because we're not supposed to be dis--" was as far as she got before the rebellious little brat scampered on ahead. "Dinky--!" Was that a raspberry? Oh, that runt was so in for it.

Amethyst caught up to her little sister easily enough. Dinky had reached the door to their guest's room, only to find it locked tight. Her fruitless scabbling and disappointed pout had no effect, either, and she couldn't do much more before Amy's magical aura yanked her away. Sprawled over and pinned to the carpet floor, the filly looked up at her sister's displeased frown with a smile so innocent it belonged on a newborn colt.

"C'mon, Amy! Don't you wanna see him, too?" A snort was Amethyst's reaction while she tossed her head.

"After all that screaming a few minutes ago? Absolutely not. We can't just waltz into Heath's room." The very idea appalled her, especially considering what happened last time she tried that. Unfortunately, Dinky didn't seem to agree.

"Why?" Amy blinked in shock, but the filly's question seemed genuine. Impossibly so, the more she thought about it. Didn't Dinky know how improper it was to barge into a colt's room? Didn't she know how somepony as mistreated as Heath was would react to such an intrusion? Was she aware of how trauma worked at all?

Actually, the answer to those questions was probably 'no'. Dinky was pretty sheltered. Amy stopped short when she realized this and her pause grew lengthier when she couldn't come up with a good way to explain. Really, she didn't know too much about these things either and her ears began drooping at the sobering thought.

"I..." Dinky continued to stare with an expectant expression while she fumbled for words. "Well, Heath is..." wracking her brain, Amy finally came up with the not-inaccurate-but-still-uninformative: "...special." The filly blinked, growing incredulous, while her sister cringed slightly.

"Well, duh!" Exclaimed Dinky, "all colts are special! That's how come we gotta be careful and not roughhouse when they're around!" She stood as Amy's magic faded away, brushing herself off but still holding a chipper smile. "And they can't play any fun games with us at recess, or else Cheerilee says they'll get hurt 'n stuff!" Dinky looked proud of herself, while her sister shook her head with a confused frown.

"If you knew all that, then why barge in on Heath in the middle of the night?" The filly rolled her eyes, waving a hoof at the disapproving glare aimed her way. If Amy frowned any harder, her muzzle could very well gain an unnatural curve forever.

"I wasn't gonna touch him, silly! I just wanted a look at my new brother! He barely spent any time with us at dinner." Dinky was so oblivious sometimes, Amy had the sudden urge to laugh. She quelled it, of course, even though they'd definitely made way too much noise by now. She could only hope they hadn't woken Dad.

"That's because Heath..." but the words died in the unicorn's throat again. Dinky looked so curious, so innocent, so pure. How could Amethyst ruin that? How could she break the news without also betraying the colt in a way, either? Was it really her business to share what he'd been through?

A sudden voice that both youngsters recognized made them freeze in place.

"I can hear you two just fine out there."

Amy's mouth flopped open and closed, her spiraling mind scrambling for something to say as Redheart's voice resonated from behind Heath's door.

"You fillies can go ahead and come in. The door's unlocked, now. Don't wake your father."

This was all the invitation Dinky needed. A blink, and suddenly she was leaning against the door on her hind hooves, nuzzling the handle open. Amy followed at a much more sedate pace, feeling her ears pin themselves against her head as she pictured what might be within.

The youth was somewhat disappointed in that respect. Once Dinky all but hopped inside with a swishing tail, Amy's gaze was drawn to her Alpha Mare, laying on the rug mere feet within. Or, more specifically, her eyes landed on the small green-and-red form nestled up against Redheart's side.

Heath looked so frail, tiny, and--dare she think it--cute that even Dinky let out a squeaky 'awwww' as she approached. The filly came to a halt mere inches from where Redheart's tail was curled around the sleeping colt. After several seconds seeing him snooze away, though, her endeared smile became a disappointed pout.

"Why's he still sleeping? He's done nothing but sleep the whole time!" Dinky at least had the decency to speak in a hushed tone, but that hardly made her words any less inconsiderate, at least in Amy's opinion. Her Alpha donned a patient smile, but there was a noticeable firmness in her voice when she responded.

"Colts need their sleep, Dinky. Without magic to energize them, they can't stay up for as long as you can." Something occurred to Redheart then and she tilted her head, gazing between the two. "Speaking of, where are the others? I haven't seen them since dinner." Amethyst stepped into the room proper, circling around her while leaving a wide berth--Heath was sleeping soundly, but one couldn't be too careful.

"Derpy's in the nest with Dad. Minuette's in the basement, working on the new design. We were going to go help her like Mom said, but somepony wanted to terrorize our 'new brother.'" Those last two words came out with much heavier air quotes than Amy had intended and she cringed under Redheart's questioning look. Luckily, Dinky proved too great a distraction, bouncing yet closer and reaching towards Heath's face.

"I wanted to say hi! Can't we wake him up for ju--"

Redheart made no physical movements. As an Alpha Mare, she didn't need to. All she had to do was clear her throat and utter a soft:

"Back."

For the filly to freeze and take several steps away.

Amethyst froze too, feeling shivers down her spine at the commanding, powerful tone in the voice. Neither youngster dared think of disobeying her leader. They both stood stock still, staring at her with rapt attention. Redheart gave a gentle smile, which eased much of the tension, but they remained in place until she nodded a release. "It's best not to disturb him, okay, Dinky?" The filly in question edged closer with great trepidation before the mare held out a foreleg in an inviting gesture.

"Okay," agreed Dinky as she curled up against the front of her Alpha's barrel like an obedient puppy. It was some seconds until she found her voice again, spent being comforted by a reassuring nuzzle. In that time, Amy had unlocked her legs and sat on the carpet floor, squinting in the dim light. "Why, though? We get to wake Daddy up all the time!" Redheart let out a low hum, flicking her tail so it landed covering more of Heath's prone form.

"Like Amy said, Heath is special. I know you're excited to make a new friend, but you have to be even more careful with him." The earth pony gazed down, faintly apologetic, at the pouting unicorn all but buried in her chest fluff. "It's best if you stay away, at least for now. Let Heath come to you when he's ready, okay?"

Dinky didn't respond this time. For as rebellious as she could be, she knew when to listen to authority. Amy only wished she counted in that respect, but one couldn't have everything.

Seated on her haunches, the young mare found herself glancing about the darkened guest room. The four-poster bed occupying one corner looked so messy that it seemed a rabid bear had torn out of its confines. A connecting curtain rod had snapped, leaving the canopy in a heap on the ground. Amy's perceptive eyes noticed disturbed patches of carpet, like scuffed hoofprints leading from the bed to the door.

Speaking of which, being on this side of it, she saw marks of torn paint two feet or so up from the ground, like something small had desperately--yet fruitlessly--been scrabbling away at it. And not in a playful, silly way like her sister had minutes prior. This was a failed escape from what likely had been read as a life-threatening situation. Connecting dots formed an unpleasant picture in her head as Amy's gaze slowly dropped to the resting colt almost entirely hidden by pink hairs.

Amy's mouth opened, then closed. With a jolt, she tore her stare away, having realized Redheart was looking at her. With cheeks aflame, her attention was drawn to an open notebook lying some feet away. Curious, she approached with a cocked head. The book was vaguely familiar--maybe she'd seen it earlier that day, when she'd come to get Heath for dinner? Amy hadn't gotten a good look at the picture he'd drawn, though. She'd been too distracted by him talking about...

Amy beat those thoughts back with a shake of her head, igniting her horn with a pale blue glow. The notebook was levitated closer to her squinting purple eyes, which roved across the image in what dim light existed. Those eyes soon widened and she channeled more magic in efforts to make her horn brighter, all while furiously scanning the paper for every minute detail--of which there were surprisingly many.

"... wow..." she breathed, almost without realizing. Amy jolted, though, when Redheart's voice tore through her trance and reminded her where she was.

"What is it?"

The unicorn turned to face her Alpha, but couldn't make herself look away from the art she had become so invested in. Depicted on the page of one of her spare notebooks was clearly a city street, framed by skyscrapers like the ones she'd seen in Manehattan when she'd tagged along on one of Minuette's business trips. The art was greyscale, shaded with pencil markings, which fit the dreary atmosphere of a rained-upon city sidewalk perfectly. Figures traveled across the pavement, holding umbrellas above their tall, lanky forms as shields from the heavens.

The image seemed to come alive the longer Amy studied it. Blinking rapidly, she realized it'd been over a minute and she still had not answered.

"It's a drawing. Heath was drawing when I came to get him yesterday. This..." she trailed off, once more enraptured by all the details.

Almost as curious as the tall figures were the strange machines occupying the street. They resembled carriages like the ones popular in Manehattan, but without anything to pull them along. Amy's eyes wandered upwards as she pondered the art, but were then drawn to the very top of the page, where the underside of an umbrella was clearly depicted. That explains the perspective...

"...How old did you estimate him to be, again?"

Redheart hummed, shifting her penetrating stare to the colt in question, who mumbled something and inched closer in his sleep. Dinky had made herself comfortable at that point, leaning up against her front and shutting her eyes in like fashion. It wouldn't be long before the filly slipped into Princess Luna's realm of dreams, if only from boredom and there being nothing better to do.

Also more than a little because Redheart's chest fluff was just that comfy.

"Judging from his teeth and general size, the consensus was eight years. Is the drawing really that good?" The mare was skeptical, if her raised brow and slight frown were any indication. Amy nodded in response, every bit as surprised as her Alpha.

"There's shading, perspective, a fully-developed background," she began, levitating the notebook over to be inspected by a pair of icy blue eyes. "The machines don't look like anything I've ever seen, so they must have been imagined. Same with the umbrella creatures. These things take a lot of skill--I'd never expect anything like this from anypony under twelve." The picture wasn't perfect, of course, but its blemishes and mistakes were overshadowed by everything positive and Redheart definitely seemed impressed.

"It looks so..." the mare started, wrinkling her forehead as she studied the art in turn, "...dreary. Like there's no joy left. I'd hate to be there." Amy nodded along, but gazed vacantly at the wall with absent thoughts. This situation was quite curious. If Heath really was skilled enough to draw something like that, how could he be so young? She'd needed years of practice to reach that level and, though the unicorn had surpassed it now, she hadn't at his age to be sure.

How could a little colt do something so advanced? Was he really as young as they thought?

Amy found herself thinking back to her encounter with him, despite her own wishes. The look in his eyes, it still brought chills down her spine. The almost-victorious gleam as he sized her up. The casual frankness with which he addressed her, as if he was so used to that happening. The utter revulsion she'd felt when the dots connected. She couldn't even picture doing anything of the sort and yet he'd been so certain that--

"--Amy."

The youth jolted again, spun to face her Alpha, and formed a shaky smile. Redheart's raised brow stayed northward for several seconds before her expression softened and she patted the carpet in front of her with her free leg.

"Come sit. Let's talk."

Those were the last words any teenager wanted to hear from a parental figure, but Amy obeyed all the same. Steadfast, she avoided glancing down at the troublesome lump as she crept by him, though she did spare a look at her slumbering sister. Dinky wasn't sleeping quite so heavily by the looks of it, but she wasn't one to snoop in business not concerning her. Tonight notwithstanding, that was.

Amy settled herself down with the grace of a drunken seal, breathing shallowly as her eyes refused to focus. Across from her, Redheart ran a hoof through Dinky's yellow mane, brows creased. "You're still shaken. Did something happen before you went to get me?" The unicorn let out an airy chuckle, shaking her head in the negative.

"Nothing more than you'd expect," Amy dismissed, waving a foreleg. "I'm sure you've been through the same thing with him. Probably worse."

Redheart didn't seem convinced. Or, perhaps it was just that she knew Amy better than that.

"It's affected you all the same. I'm sorry for what he must have said. It's partially my fault you went through that, after all." The mare waited expectantly for the youth to respond, but Amy dipped her head instead, unable to find the words. Even if she did figure out what to say, how to describe what he'd assumed she would do, no sound would make it past the lump in her throat.

After a long pause, Redheart sighed. "Why don't you tell me how life is going? How's the internship with Rarity?" This was something Amy could discuss much more easily. It still took effort to speak, but keeping her thoughts on her employer helped a lot.

"It's good. She's very talented at what she does and I learn more every day." With a deep breath as the knots in her barrel eased up, the youth managed a genuine smile. "I can see why she was chosen to be in charge of decorations for the celebration. I envy her artistic mind, sometimes." Redheart smiled back, her teeth glinting in the scant light from the window to the side.

"Well, you're every bit as talented, too. You'll be helping her set everything up today, then?" A nod, then Amy reached back to grab her well-brushed tail, fiddling with its tip in her front hooves. A habit she'd had since she was little, it helped occupy her mind and focus her thoughts. Redheart noticed, if her deepening smile was any indication, but she knew better than to comment on it.

"Yes. It's going to be a busy day, but Rarity said she had a lesson prepared to teach while we're working, so I'm looking forward to it." Indeed, Amy was already imagining just what they'd go over while hanging ribbons and the like all across town. Any number of things, really; her teacher could get quite creative with relating one thing to another. Redheart cocked her head to the side with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you think--" she started, but cut herself off immediately when Heath stirred again at her side. This time, it was more than just readjusting himself in his sleep. The colt let out a soft whine and his brows creased, wrinkling his forehead. Redheart shifted, angling herself around him, and briefly looked back at Amy with an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry, but I have to take care of this. Can you..."

Heath whimpered and started to shake. Redheart's attention was redirected in an instant as she gently lifted his body in her hooves. Amethyst Star stood, nodding, while the sleeping colt grew yet more agitated as time went on.

"I'll take Dinky to bed," the filly lit up in a pale blue glow at the same time as the unicorn's horn and she swiftly opened the door. "I'll help Minuette downstairs, too. I'm sure she could use a hoof." Redheart nodded her thanks, now turned away completely as she focused on her charge. Amy left--almost eagerly--without further prompting, softly closing the door behind as she levitated Dinky ahead.

Amy sighed in relief, knowing her Alpha had things under control. Few in Ponyville were as skilled as she in comforting males.

Dropping Dinky off in her bedroom was easy, then the unicorn headed to the basement lab as promised.

Stoically, she refrained from thinking about her new 'brother' in the slightest. Amy wanted no part in the trouble he was sure to bring, that was for sure.

And she was sure that he was going to bring a lot of trouble.

Gynophobia

by Discombobulated Soul

Chapter One - Or How I Got Completely Screwed Over

Chapter Two - Ponyland Gets Really Old, Really Fast

Chapter Three - Uncomfortable Questions Are Asked

Chapter Four - Potential Answers Are Withheld

Chapter Five - Freaky Flip-Flop Family Fostering

please make it stop

Chapter Seven - Curiosity Killed The Filly