Thick, fleshy thighs rubbed together annoyingly as their owner paced through the cabin. Sharp, tiny shoes stabbed the planks loudly as if to mock his every exertion. Clothing, what little there was of it, had been rolled up and crammed into a few shopping bags from the wad in the closet; leftovers from this week’s resupply run that would have to suffice for bugout duffle.
The food was mostly in heavy glass jars. Not a sealable baggie was to be found. How to carry a sufficient supply was the question fighting for attention in the pain-wracked brain as stilettos clicked aggressively across the wooden floor. The pain was robbing precious clarity, too rare a commodity. Time was flying away too quickly. Panic started to creep in again, another mental thief robbing Leon of focus.
Panic, anxiety, shock. In his few lucid moments, these were the constant companions of his treacherous body, springing the snare on him again as a new tide of cramps seized his abdomen from the very core of those massive hips. The prison of this new body reasserted itself to deny his escape plans with a chorus of raw muscle spasms and a melody of red-hot agony.
He grunted, unable to withstand the latest assault, and felt his knees give way to gravity. Fat yellow legs collapsed together as he crumpled into a heap on the floorboards.
The jostling of his downward trajectory brought aching complaints from the twin mounds that hung tenderly from his chest, loose and free to swing heavily beneath the frilly top. They weren’t as overgrown as his pelvic center of gravity, but they were enough to drive home how much this body was no longer his. And for the last three days, they had become so sensitive and painful that their comparatively modest burden was magnified beyond their physical proportions. Almost as painful as their first arrival had been.
He realized it was pointless to attempt escape today. He’d never be able to hotwire the 4x4 and make it through the rugged forest path in this condition, even if he got far enough to avoid detection.
How do real women do anything during their weeks? he asked himself as he clutched his rioting womb, resenting its rebellion almost as much as he’d resented its imposition. Surely a natural period couldn’t be this debilitating! It had to be something to do with the curse. He wondered if mountain lions could smell blood. Wasn’t that something he’d heard before? Things like that had never seemed important, that they’d never apply to him. That confident state of easy ignorance was something else that had been taken from him, along with his freedom. His old identity. Even his ability to hate his situation, most of the time. Only when he was left truly alone for most of a day was his mind able to let revulsion seep in. To be banished upon the arrival of her captor, he’d discovered.
Almost before he was aware of it, the yellow ears that had clamped down hard to his thick mass of pink hair freed themselves and swiveled on a reflex. It wasn’t the notes of a woodland songbird that set off the alert, oh no.
The whistling. The deliberate sounding of notes through thick, pursed lips that meant he was out of time again. The refrain that had saturated every neuron in his skull, taking root once more to displace all free thoughts and deprive him of the agency needed to be frightened.
My little pony, my little pony…
His pounding heart slowed. His face unclenched. His… arms hung… loosely… gently at his… at her side.
Her husband was at the door.
“Don’t you know you’re all my very best frie- Honey? What are you doing on the floor?” the resonant baritone voice asked.
“Um, just sitting, I think?” she said in a breathy, nearly whispered reply. “Oh my! More supplies?”
“That’s right, babe!” he said with a smile, hefting the two plastic bags from a chain pharmacy. “I didn’t know what you’d prefer, so I got you options. Told the clerk I was a single dad and my girl was going through her first cycle, she was very helpful… I hope. Even slipped a pamphlet in discreetly at checkout.”
“Oh! Um, that was nice of her,” she admitted, still feeling overwhelmed. But the tune he was humming cooled her fire, replacing it with a sensation akin to those of warm blankets and fluffy pillows. He continued to hum the tune as he helped her stand up and guided her to the table, where she examined the bags contents as he wrapped his arms around her from behind and slowly, gently caressed her aching abdomen.
“By the way, babe,” he said after she had read the instructions on the packs of pads and tampons. “I want you to give me the administrator login for the prepper forum.”
“Um, I don’t know… why? I mean, I kind of…” she started to protest. A slight edge of panic tinged her feelings once again at the sudden intrusion of the request. It was through the prepper forum she- he ran that they’d met, leading to the moonless night when he’d been drawn into a trap by this online acquaintance under false pretenses, and cursed. Yes, he was definitely feeling angry again. How dare this lying piece of trash take away not only his life and his body, but now demanded the keys to his online community? His yellow cheeks burned red and the plastic wrapping of the period pads started to tear as his slender yellow fingers dug into them from the iron grip he had started exerting. He shuddered at the way this smug was manipulating him, and even more at the way his abductor pawed the painfully transformed body that trapped him in this hell-
My little pony, my little pony… hummed the devious fiend directly into one of the floppy yellow ears.
Her fingers relaxed their grip.
Six months later…
“Good news!” her husband announced from the small desk where he had been working at the laptop since sunrise.
“Oh?” she asked mildly. She hadn’t gone online for most of the last six months. Her husband kept the laptop locked, an anyway it was more prudent to turn the satellite terminal off when not using it and save precious power from the solar batteries. It wasn’t like there was much she needed to look up online anyway; when she had a question about something to do with the garden or sewing, she simply asked her husband and he would report back what he found. Her life had been so much more peaceful and less stressful since she stopped going online. Her husband had certainly been right about that. She almost felt sorry for him having to remote in to work every day and then spend time managing the old forum. It must be stressful, even though the work helped provide for their little homestead.
“Do you remember Prepmeister-1995 and his tradwife, Homesteadmaker?” he asked.
“Oh my, yes! They met on our little forum five years ago and got married last year, didn’t they?” she asked. Happy memories of the online community she used to run started to resurface.
“Well it turns out they’ve also taken in a new girl who wants to learn the tradwife lifestyle from them, and I suggested they come to our little love nest here to see how to put it into action! They can be here in a month!” her husband beamed.
“Oh my! Visitors? Guests? Do you think we can host them properly?” she asked. She thought about how much bigger she’d be in a month, hands instinctively coming to rest on the growing roundness in front of her. Then another thought occurred to her. “You don’t think they’ll be, um, upset about me, do you?” she asked nervously. “About my appearance?”
“I’ll make absolutely sure they know what to expect,” he said with something of a smirk. “Trust me, you won’t feel out of place at all! And I’ll make sure their ‘education’ includes taking over some of the chores while they’re here,” he added. “Let’s see, I’ll pick a nearby hotel for us to rendezvous at, then I can get everything set up ahead of time…” he trailed off into excited muttering, clearly pleased with his invitation.
She was glad he was so happy, even if she was a little nervous about inviting people into their home. Despite his assurances, she wondered if they wouldn’t find her yellow skin and big ears strange. She even started to feel a little self-conscious about her pregnant belly; what would they say about him taking her as a wife and mother of his children? But she had confidence in her husband, and consoled herself with the thought that he was going to work everything out. It was time to return her attention to cleaning the first of their early spring vegetables.
Another month passes
Following Husband’s instructions, Fluttershy put the music on a loop over the bluetooth speaker. “My little pony, my little pony…” it sang for her over and over and over again while she waited for him to arrive with their guests.
Warm. Happy. Contented. Safe. Trust. Pony. Warm. Happy. Contented. Safe. Trust. Pony. Warm happy contented safe trust pony warm happy contented safe trust pony…
Time was slippery, but that hardly mattered. As she slouched on the sofa, hands resting on her belly, she was warm and happy and contented. She felt so safe, so much trust. She was a pony, too. These thoughts cycled around her head with every verse about friendship and kindness and all of those wonderful things. Her brain lazily flicked through all these pleasant sensations like the tail of a cat otherwise fully occupied with sprawling peacefully in a beam of sunlight. Sometimes the feeling of fuzzy, slow happiness was so insistent that she managed to vent a little bit of it as a gentle sigh before settling back into idle demi-existence. Even the kicking in her womb didn’t rouse her to excitement, not with the music playing. Everything was just smoothed out into a pleasant blandness.
At some point of indeterminable time, the cabin door opened. She had been told what to do when that happened and, however much she enjoyed simply being a happy little lump on the couch, she knew it was time to carry out her instructions.
“Welcome to your new home,” she said lazily. It pleased her to follow the instruction, however simple.
A chalk-white skinned girl whose flowing purple hair was punctuated by big, loosely-drooping pony ears like her own walked in; unlike her, the guest had a pearlescent horn growing out of her forehead. She was followed closely behind by an orange girl with straw-blond hair and freckles, also bearing horse ears, and following both of them was a purple pony girl in baggy, ill-fitting clothes that kept wanting to slide off her. Guiding the latter into the house was Husband, his hairy hands steering the tiny purple shoulders of the third guest as they entered the main room of the cabin. All of them had slack, relaxed, sleepy-looking faces. Husband turned off his own portable speaker so now the only My Little Pony song playing was the one in the house. “Let’s all sit down, you three on the couch,” he said as he drove the purple girl over to the furniture.
He took a seat in the middle and pulled the purple girl with purple hair down into his lap, wrapping his arms around her fondly. She complied with a dopey, distant look on her face. The other two girls flanked Husband on either side, with the orange girl taking the purple girl’s hand in her own. Fluttershy was not exempt from the instruction, so she settled into the big easy chair, her massive hips barely fitting in between the arm rests. Husband began gently fondling the purple girl as he made introductions over the sound of the music.
“These two on either side of me are Homesteadmaker,” he said, glancing at the orange pony girl with blond hair, “… and Social Fabric, from the forum. And this cutie was formerly known as Prepmeister-1995,” he added as he nuzzled the entranced purple girl with his beard. “Of course those names won’t do anymore. From now on, Prepmeister answers to Twilight Sparkle, Homesteadmaker to Applejack, and Social Fabric to Rarity. Twilight, Applejack, Rarity, this is my first wife, Fluttershy. Say hello, girls.”
“Hello,” Applejack and Rarity said automatically, with Twilight adding a slightly delayed hello as if it was taking her longer to catch up. They gazed at Fluttershy with cow-like eyes, docile and unconcerned.
“Hello,” she replied with equally bovine equanimity. All she felt was warm, happy, contented, safe, trust, pony.
“Twilight and Applejack were already married, Rarity thought she was just joining them on a retreat to learn more homesteading skills,” Husband continued after his girls had made their perfunctory replies. “But I want us all to consider ourselves one big married group. All four of you are my wives, and wives of each other, and I’m your Husband. We’ll live happily and with plenty of love to go around. I love you, Fluttershy. I love you, Rarity. I love you, Applejack. And I love you, Twilight. Twilight, do you love Applejack?” he asked.
“Yes,” the purple girl answered roboticly.
“Then love Rarity and Fluttershy the way you love Applejack. And love me the way you love your wives. Love your wives the way you love your Husband, and the way your Husband loves you.” He never relented from feeling up Twilight’s body in all the erogenous places as he delivered their new reality. “Twilight, do you love Rarity?”
“Yes,” she answered, face reddening with reflexive blush from the physical stimulation.
“Do you love Fluttershy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love your Husband?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl! You’re right, you’re so right. And Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and Husband all love you too.” He then went round-robin with each of the hypnotized wives, having them repeat the same mantra of mutual love. He made several rounds, using repetition to cement their proclamations more strongly into their psyche. By the end of it, they had repeated their statements of love to each other and Husband at least three times each.
And Twilight, whose body was receiving constant attention from Husband’s roving hands, was relieved of her too-large shirt and her too-tight pants, clothing that had obviously been patterned for a much larger man than she was now. With Husband’s ministrations during the indoctrination, she was thoroughly worked up despite being entranced under the power of the music, and Husband decided it was time to break her in.
Six years later
“There ya go, sugarcube!” Applejack said as she capped the bottle with a silicone nipple top and placed it next to the dozen others. “All done for the morning! Ain’t you just the most productive l’il yeller cow in the herd?” she grinned, picking up the tray laden with baby bottles.
“Oh, thank you,” Fluttershy said warmly as she waited for her blush to settle. Unlike when she was nursing directly, having Husband or one of their wives help her express was always erotically charged. But since Husband had declared her ‘on vacation’ from being pregnant, she’d noticed her libido flaring up as though wanting to make up for the downtime of the last several years. That made the morning milking sessions difficult to concentrate on, and more than once she’d given into her wilder passions and cut the session short in order to have the other partner relieve her pent-up energies. Fortunately, this time Applejack had been able to resist the pleas and finish the session without incident. She was always so good at that, ever since little May had burst into the room and interrupted one of those passionate digressions.
“Ain’t nothing to it, Sugarcube!” AJ declared again before leaning in to give her wife a pleasant kiss. “Husband and Rainbow are still out hunting and I need to get back to the south slope to check the plums for pests. Twilight’s still tinkering with the old gassifier, showing Duke how it works. So if you need help taking care of yer little fire there ya might ask Rarity,” she said with a knowing wink.
“Oh, but she’s so busy trying to keep up with all the children’s clothes!” Fluttershy said. “I’ll probably just help her out instead. Or should I pitch in with kitchen duty?”
“Naw, Pinkie’s got that covered like usual,” AJ replied. “Honest, girl! Take some ‘me’ time every once in a while. You deserve it! You’ve been mothering longer and harder than any of us. Remember you got needs too!”
“I suppose,” Fluttershy conceded as she pulled the blanket away from her massive chest and slipped up the generous, though still quite tight, top that Rarity had made for her. It wasn’t just the children who had needed a lot of clothing; Fluttershy’s bust had nearly exploded over the last half-dozen years. Twilight had calculated that their sheer volume seemed to double with each pregnancy, which was a faster rate than any of her other wives. When she was carrying little Thorn, her bust had finally exceeded the size of her pregnant belly at the end of the term. That and her almost constant lactation had nominated her as the homestead’s official nursemaid, supplementing the other girls’ production and basically supplying the dairy ingredients for their cooking. Pinkie in particular had been delightfully obsessed with her bounty, and not always in a platonic fashion.
But just thinking about that was causing her libido to flare up again, so Fluttershy made the conscious effort to put that thought out of her head as she heaved herself to her feet, breasts now hanging heavily from her impossibly thin torso and with such girth that they handily matched the span of her hips.
Child-bearing hips, she thought with multi-faceted satisfaction. All the girls had that aspect of their figure in common; a necessary specification Husband had included when shaping them for recruitment, and one she had been glad of six times for herself and another dozen times for the other girls combined. If one was going to be a perennial mother, one needed a few optimizations… Optimizations? It was funny that even now, years after her old life had been entirely erased, some shades of her former engineering career still bubbled up occasionally. But they caused her no grief; often she found they only enhanced the appreciation she’d come to have for Husband’s decisions for her.
Thoroughly satisfied with the way her body was perfectly suited to her wonderful life, she stretched the stiffness out of her joints and back before tottering off to check on Rarity, stiletto heels clicking easily across the cabin’s wood flooring as she dodged little ones running and laughing and playing.
A familiar chord progression crept into awareness and she began to hum the old ear-worm softly to herself.
Warm. Happy. Contented. Safe. Trust. Pony. Warm. Happy. Contented. Safe. Trust. Pony. Warm happy contented safe trust pony warm happy contented safe trust pony…
“Yes,” she answered, face reddening with reflexive blush from the physical stimulation.
“Do you love Fluttershy?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love your Husband?”
“Yes.”
“Good girl! You’re right, you’re so right. And Fluttershy, Applejack, Rarity, and Husband all love you too.” He then went round-robin with each of the hypnotized wives, having them repeat the same mantra of mutual love. He made several rounds, using repetition to cement their proclamations more strongly into their psyche. By the end of it, they had repeated their statements of love to each other and Husband at least three times each.