"Why does this place smell like cheap air-freshener? What the flower?" You pause. That last part wasn't what you were trying to say, but that's what came out, and not in your voice either. "What the flower is wrong with my voice? I sound like a valley girl on downers." You look down and realize that your voice is the least of your problems.
"Holy Flowering Sherbert! I'm a Flowering PONY!"
Yep, it's true. Your soft lavender body stretches out across the golden pile of straw, flowing to a cluster of pink daisy tattoos on your round marshmallow butt and ending with an impossible long and full horse tail that looks like a spun silver version of a Farah Fawcett wig, only less dignified. You look around the unnaturally clean barn, past the strangely out of place heart-shaped hot tub to the girliest makeup table and mirror you ever saw in your life. You get up somewhat unsteadily onto your brightly polished silver hooves and stumble over to the mirror, curious to see if your face matches your new body. Unfortunately for you, it does. "Golly Flowering Daylight!!" A nauseatingly cute lavender pony head stares back at you with impossibly large lavender eyes, so big you wonder why they don't make a sound like two wet balloons being rubbed together when they move. Your huge eyes have even larger eyelashes that curl out from under your drooping, purple-shaded eyelids. Your mane is another silver Farah Fawcett wig, flowing down across your neck and alluringly down over your forehead, partially covering another pink Daisy tattoo, centered on a silver blaze that splashes down to the tip of your soft round nose. The makeup table is crowded with a variety of perfume bottles and tortoise-shell brushes. "I wonder how I'm supposed to use this sherbert, if I don't have any flowering hands?" Then another thought occurs to you. "Am I as girly as I feel?" You dip your head down, trying to see if anything sticks down between your hind legs, but your soft round lavender belly is in the way. Then you turn around, pointing your cute round ass at the mirror, lifting your silky tail and uncovering a soft puckering equine anus and just below it, a supple pouting vagina. "Oh, flower me...."
"Greetings, pony sister. My name is Pony Daffodil. What is your name?" Standing in the heart-shaped barn doorway is another pony, shaped identically to you, but with a sunshine yellow body and a pink flowing mane and tail. She smiles sweetly, fluttering her long eyelashes as she waits patiently for you to answer.
"My name is Pony Violet....No....Violet....Pony Violet....Daylight!" You try to say Bob, but your soft pouty mouth refuses to cooperate with you for some reason.
"Greetings, Pony Violet. Are you a Pred, or are you Prey?" The sunshine yellow pony asks you innocently.
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