Neigh!

Chapter 1 - Pony!

[ - May 07, 2021 - 5:20pm - ]

 

“Oh this is such a beautiful piece! How much?” I ask the vendor behind the booth, a beautiful red-haired woman in an easily recognizable cosplay of a light blue pegasus. She startles slightly, and I realize she hadn’t even noticed me before I spoke up.

 

“Ah-ha um, hello sir,” she says with a smile, “that one’s twenty five dollars, but since the con’s almost over I’d sell it to you for twenty.”

 

I hesitate, my eyes flicking from the dazzling artwork of my absolute favorite pony character to the equally dazzling person selling it. It’s the last thirty minutes of the convention, and I haven’t bought a single thing yet besides admission. It’s not that I’m dying to spend money, more that I really want some piece of merchandise to represent this convention on my walls. I collect artwork both to support the artists and to give me something tangible to remember these precious times in my life by. After all, it’s not everyday that I get to mingle with people who actually share some of my interests. This is just a small con hosted in my home city, but it’s been a wonderful little diversion for today.

 

“Deal,” I say firmly, fishing my wallet out of my jeans’ pocket.

 

“Awesome!” the artist says brightly, “I’ll get that for you.”

 

She carefully takes the art off display and slides it into a plastic sleeve, then hands it to me and takes my cash. I thank her profusely, and gingerly stash the piece in my backpack before throwing it on my back.

 

For the last twenty or so minutes I just wander around the handful of big hotel conference rooms that make up the con. Mostly I admire the merch and artwork on display, as well as people-watch. That’s kind of a guilty habit of mine. But in my defense, Conventions bring out so many beautiful souls dressed in incredible and diverse costumes, it’s so hard not to look around. I’d never take photos without the permission of everyone involved, of course

 

I’d even thought about cosplaying myself in the past, but... I don’t really resonate with any guy characters from my favorite shows. And the alternatives would probably awaken something in me that really was better off staying dormant for now, if I could even pull them off.

 

Most of the booths are packing up by now, as most of the crowd has dispersed. I think about heading home too, and start looking up the nearby bus schedule. It turns out there’s a bus in just a few minutes, so I hurry out with the rest of the con’s stragglers and make a beeline for the bus stop.

 

I get a nice window seat on the bus, and put in my headphones as I watch downtown Toronto pass by. Unfortunately I have an errand to take care of before I can go collapse at home, so I get off at an early stop and go into the grocery store to pick up some lunch meat and milk. On the way out of the store though, something catches my eye. Maybe it’s because I have ponies on the mind, but my eyes fixate on a little pony-looking knit-yarn toy being advertised on one of those big old rectangular vending machines with the cast iron red base and big glass case on top full of frosted capsules with colorful lids. This machine in particular has a couple different animals to choose from: cats, dogs, foxes, wolves, cows, buns, and then the pony-like one that I have my eye on. I fish out a toonie from my wallet and slide it into the machine, twisting the mechanism to feed the coin in with a satisfying ker-clunk sound.

 

Please be a pony, I think reverently, grabbing the capsule from the slot and cracking it open. I may or may not have squealed a little with delight upon finding a tan-colored equine sitting inside the frosted enclosure. I quickly silence myself, and look around the exit of the grocery store furtively. Thankfully no one seems to have heard my outburst, so I snap the capsule closed and shove it into one of my grocery bags.

 

The walk home is lazy and uneventful, so much so that I'm practically buzzing with excitement as I make it to my apartment and shove my key in the door. I am greeted with a pitiful meow from my cat, Byte, who tries to bolt out the door only to be foiled by my foot pushing them out of the way. I close the door behind me and then crouch down to give my little kitty all the love they deserve. 

 

“Heya bytey wytey,” I say quietly.

 

“Mrow,” Byte replies morosely.

 

“Mood,” I agree.

 

Cat loved, I make my way inside and set my grocery bags down on the kitchen table. I set about putting things away as Byte sniffs around at all the new things I’ve brought into our home. Next I take the artwork I’d purchased out of my backpack, and take the time to carefully hang it directly across the kitchen from the front door, so it’ll be the first thing people see when they come in. Not that anyone’s come over in ages, but y’know, at least it’ll be the first thing I see every day I come home. 

 

Once that’s done, I turn my attention to the little capsule I’d picked up. I carefully extricate the little knitted plushie from inside of it and let it sit in the palm of my hand as I examine it. It’s surprisingly soft, and very light weight. There’s no markings indicating who made it or why; there’s no tags at all either, just a plastic keychain clip attached to its back. It’s a little tan pony with a long dark brown mane and tail and sunset orange-colored eyes. It’s actually not too far off from my own ponysona, which is just absolutely perfect as far as I’m concerned. I take it to my bedroom with a wide grin, and set it down on my nightstand where it’ll greet me every morning. 

 

The rest of the night is lazy and relaxed. I play some video games and catch up a little on some homework. I heat up frozen chicken for dinner around nine pm, and am in bed not too long after midnight. I take the little pony plushie and set it down on my pillow near my head, then I slide into bed and turn off the lights. I turn over onto my side and try to fall asleep, one hand resting on the plushie. 

 

Feeling cute cuddly sentiment bubbling up in me, I whisper, “Good night,” to my new little pony, then I neigh at it softly. And I fall asleep.

---

I wake up slowly from a deep and peaceful slumber. 

 

I feel absurdly comfortable, lying there. It seems criminal to move from such a warm and spacious bed. I stretch my legs and arms out a little under the blankets, relishing in the softness and lightness of my sheets. Something feels a little off about the motion though. Had I always been able to stretch out in my twin bed like this? 

 

Also I seem to have slept with my head under the blankets, and I can’t quite seem to grasp the edge of the covers to pull them off, I struggle to wrap my fingers around it to no avail. Finally I give up, and wriggle my way forward until I’m at last able to peek out from under the covers. 

 

The first thing I notice is a small plane of tan-ness taking up the bottom fourth of my vision. I frown, and the obstruction flexes slightly. I wriggle my nose to try and dislodge whatever’s stuck to my face, and the mini horizon mirrors the motion. There’s two small holes at the far edge of the surface, and they widen and shrink in time with my breathing.

 

I stare at them until my eyes start to hurt from peering at something so close. Finally I have to blink, and the next thing my gaze locks onto is a sweeping curtain of brown hair that’s currently obscuring half my vision past the tan nose-thing. It’s way more hair than I’ve ever had.

 

Okay, so we’ve got a tan snout and long brown hair, I think. This is fine.

 

Shakily, I raise one of my arms into view, and am greeted with the sight of a soft-looking tan hoof and foreleg. 

 

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck, I think on repeat. I confirm my other hand is also now a hoof, and then have a small breakdown staring at both hooves. My hooves. Mine. Excitement bubbles through me.

 

Oh goddesses, I never want this dream to end, I think reverently.

 

I find it’s not too difficult to roll myself onto all four legs, and as I stand up to my full height I realize I’m only like three or four feet tall. The big pillow before me practically comes up to my shins now, with that pony plushie sitting on top right where I left it last night. I can hear the faint sounds of the air conditioner running, and can also feel my ears flicking to the left to zero in on it. I breathe in deeply, and smell the faintest hint of lavender from the detergent I use on my sheets. There’s so much detail to this dream; rarely can I use all of my senses in lucid episodes like this, let alone take so much time to just think and observe my surroundings. 

 

But the idea that this might not be a dream is ridiculous. How in the hell could I have turned into a pony? And an even better question! What do I look like as one?

 

With almost no further thought, I leap down off the bed to the floor. I turn and survey the rest of my body, and find pretty much what I’d been expecting, with one huge exception: no wings. I have a short barrel-shaped torso, four long fur-covered legs, and a long, silky-looking tail that trails along the ground behind me a short ways. But there are no feathery appendages with which I could perchance fly, so I am privately distraught. 

 

To distract myself, I turn my attention to the fact that when I’d moved off the bed my body had responded like moving on four legs was the most natural thing in the world. Huh, so I had some sort of instincts to go along with my changed form. Neat.

 

Okay, well, let’s go see a mirror, I think resolutely. If nothing else, a mirror should help me determine whether I’m still dreaming or not. My reflection never really materializes in dreams.

 

I will myself to move forward, and try to pay attention as my legs move in unison. When I walk at a slow pace I pick up and put down each leg individually, one at a time. When I speed up a little that turns into a trot: each diagonally opposite pair of legs moving in sync in a two-beat gait. So one moment my left forehoof and right backhoof are pushing into the floorboards, then the next they’re in the air while the opposite two legs are touching down.

 

I don’t really have good traction on the hardwood flooring beneath me, and I skid a little as I trot around the bed and head for the door. As I slide to a stop I behold my next challenge: opening said door. I consider using my mouth, but that grosses me out a little bit, so I settle for rearing back on my hind legs and squishing both my forehooves against the knob to twist it. I’m able to pop it open, and as soon as I do a black-and-white streak bolts into the room. 

 

Byte the cat yowls as soon as they see me, their tail puffing out and their eyes and ears trained squarely on my ponified form. I awkwardly, slowly let myself back down to all fours, and Byte backs up a little further. 

 

“Hey Byte,” I say, or rather, I try to. All that comes out is a couple of neighs.

 

Fuck, I neigh internally. I guess this definitely isn’t the body of my dreams then. 

 

Byte, for their part, is sniffing the air and looking a little more curious than frightened now. Cautiously, I lift up a forehoof and give them a little wave. Then I lock eyes with them and slowly blink my eyes, trying to indicate that I trust them in what little cat body language I know. Their tail gets a little less poofy though, and they take a tentative step forward. I stay still, hoping I still at least smell like myself. Byte steps closer, and I can tell they’re at least not freaking out about me any more. I’m about a foot and a half taller than them, but I don’t like my odds against the little predator if it comes down to a fight. Thankfully, it seems they’re mainly just curious now, and I do my best to stay quiet and still while they sniff around me in a circle.

 

If I ever have hands again, I’m going to give this kitty so many treats, I think with an internal smile.

 

Byte completes their inspection of me, then moves over to the bed and leaps up onto the mattress. There they perch while I try to slow my pounding heart.

 

It occurs to me that I’m taking this all quite seriously, like I had really been invested in not scaring away dream-Byte, and everything still feels incredibly vivid and real. 

 

Right, to the mirror, I think firmly. 

 

Fortunately there’s a full length mirror just inside the bathroom, so I head down the hall at a walk and make a left into the first open doorway. My hooves are sensitive enough that I can tell the tiles in here are as usual colder than the flooring of the rest of the house as I step inside. 

 

When I walk in front of the mirror I stop and stare, my jaw dropping open. Not only does my reflection mirror my movements exactly, I can see so many tiny details in my face and body. I’m about the size of a medium dog, my eyes are level with the sinktop as I sit back on my hind legs. I’m like a hyper realistic version of one of the cartoon ponies from my favorite show.

 

Unlike my online avatar’s forest green eyes though, the pony in the mirror’s eyes are a vaguely familiar sunset orange color, and they’re also pretty huge compared to what I figured a normal pony would have. 

 

So I’m still some sort of cartoonish tiny horse, just not the one I really want to be? I think with a pang of sadness. 

 

I shuffle around, getting a good look at myself from all sides. I’m a regular pony, no horn and no wings, which is also unlike my avatar and is in fact officially lame. My mane covers my head and hangs down on my right side almost to the floor, and it matches my tail for color and silkiness.

 

As I stare at the mare in the mirror though, the sadness and disappointment quiet themselves. I’m a pony, a living, breathing pony! Just like I’ve been trying to lucid dream about! This is nearly everything I could have ever asked for. And yet it’s different enough from my expectations that I have to wonder what’s really going on here.

 

The plushie! I think after a moment. That’s where I’ve seen these eyes before. Huh, interesting that my dream pulled from that instead of the well-trod ground of my ponysona.

 

Right, the dream with the perfectly functional mirror, I think at myself wryly. 

 

I speed it up a little on my way back to the bedroom, cantering down the corridor in a three-beat gait. 

 

I slide into the room and make my way over to the bed. It takes a little hop to get up onto it, and then I’m staring at the plushie that maybe-possibly turned me into a horse. It lies there atop the pillow, unassuming. 

 

Okay, so I look like the plushie, I think, so what?

 

I move closer to it, and poke it with a hoof. 

 

“Hello?” I neigh unintelligibly at it.

 

Byte makes a surprised yelp from the other end of the bed, and I turn to look at them with confusion. 

 

“What’s wrong?” I say, except I actually say it this time, aloud, with a very clear and very girlish voice.

 

Byte scampers away, my hands fly to my throat, and I realize I have hands again. Small ones, with thick fingers and rounded fingernails. When I look down I find a pair of naked breasts, each more than a handful and tipped with thick dark brownish nipples, and a large belly down below them. My skin is smooth, soft, hairless, and the same shade of light tan that it’d been before. When I glance down between my large, curvy thighs I see the glistening folds of my labia.

 

Holy fuck, I think, I’m a girl?!

 

I guess I had been a mare just now, too, but that made more sense to me. After all most of the ponies in the cartoon world were mares, in fact there seemed to be a lot more mares in pony land than stallions. This is entirely the reason why my ponysona is a mare.

 

But now I’d transformed into a human girl. A woman. Well, I’d been put in a woman’s body. I’m still the same old boring dude I guess, even though I feel myself smiling at the prospect of being in this body for any amount of time. In fact I feel giddy as I scoot myself off the bed and stand up, intending to go straight to the mirror again. My room seems bigger than usual still, in fact my bed comes up to my thighs now, so I’ve definitely shrunk from my previous one hundred and seventy five centimeters. 

 

My boobs jiggle slightly as I make my way to the door and into the hall beyond. Byte is lurking out there, but they don’t seem scared of me, just cautious. 

 

“Hey kitty witty,” I say in a soft and pretty voice. 

 

“Mrow,” Byte responds.

 

I step past them and make my way into the bathroom. Cautiously, I tiptoe in front of the mirror and turn to face myself. And I gasp.

 

Before me is a beautiful, naked pony-girl. Two tall tan triangular furred ears stick up out the top of my head, and behind me swishes a long brown tail, nearly identical to my pony form’s. Both these features feel so natural that I hadn’t even noticed them until seeing them in my reflection. My eyes are the same sunset orange color as my pony form’s, too, and my long brown hair falls to my lower back in a similar windblown style to my mane.

 

I stare at myself for a good long while, taking it all in. My boobs are just a little on the large size for my big frame I think; my face is still kinda recognizable except it’s undeniably feminine now, with a rounded chin and cherub cheeks. I’ve got a wonderfully large and curvy body, definitely on the fat side of things, and I find that doesn’t bother me. In fact, I think I look fucking hot.

 

I give myself a wink in the mirror and my reflection mirrors me perfectly as usual. 

 

How is this not a dream? I think dazedly.

 

Maybe I got knocked out and this is like, a coma dream? Are those more vivid? I have no idea.

 

One thing is for certain though, if this is real then I have a whole hell of a lot of explaining to do to everyone in my life.