[Commission] Flight Practice 🌾📿🦅 (with story!)
A commission for hg3300 featuring both him and apsol turning into Pegasi thanks to a Pearl of Transformation that tf-sential left in the barn. Gotta watch out for those super-realistic cosplay props!
Also posted on Derpibooru: https://derpibooru.org/images/2617816
The heavy door swung open, sending dust particles swirling through bright rays of sunlight. The sweet scent of hay hung heavily in the air above an earthy undertone of dirt. Phil sighed happily as he walked into the barn he’d raised himself and adjusted his straw hat with gloved hands as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness.
Maven walked in behind him, one hand in the pocket of his blue and red hoodie and the other on his phone. He swiped down through the group chat again and cleared his throat. “So, uh… do you know why Ace asked us to meet out here instead of coming up to the house?”
Phil quirked a smile, bemused. “Don’t know, but they have to have a reason, right?” He raised his voice. “Hey Ace, you in here?”
Only the fluttering of wings in the loft above answered him. Something big, he noted absently. Probably just another owl.
“…Ace? You wanted to show us something?” Phil squinted, his eyes slowly adjusting. The barn looked pretty much the same as usual: hay on the floor, an old wooden wheel leaning off to the side, and the usual farming tools, which he liked to leave scattered about in an organized mess. The walls gleamed with a relatively new coat of paint, shafts of sunlight poured through the windows, and… huh. Well, those were new.
“Oh hey, our costumes!” Maven exclaimed, walking over to the blue spandex Wonderbolts uniforms where they hung on wall pegs. He picked one up, looking it over before holding it in front of his chest. “Ace must have finished them early. How do I look?”
“One hundred percent cooler,” Phil laughed, grabbing the second. Man, these were quality. The fabric slid smoothly over his gloves. It was as light and soft as a cloud, stretchy but strong. “Hey Ace, you’d better not be hiding somewhere to film our reactions or something. We’ve got to try these on and make sure they fit. We only have about a couple of weeks left before the con, and I still need to finish sorting out the manes and tails. So where—”
“Hey Phil, what is this?” Maven interrupted. Phil hung his uniform back on the peg, glancing over to where Maven stood in front of a pile of hay bales. Maven’s face was lit by a slight pinkish glow, the light catching in his hair and glasses. It was a comforting kind of light, soft and… entrancing. Phil walked over slowly toward the source, marveling as the glow grew stronger with each step. He stopped next to Maven, staring at an absolutely massive pink pearl sitting on the bales of hay. Light danced under its iridescent surface, pulsating through shimmering shades of pink, yellow, and orange while sparkles of light twinkled in its depths like distant stars. “Is that a fake Pearl of Transformation?”
“It looks real,” Phil marveled, leaning in closer. The air around the Pearl felt warm and comforting like a toasty hearth and a warm mug of hot cocoa in the dead of winter. His skin prickled as he leaned in, basking in its aura, and Maven swayed where he stood, thoughts fuzzy. He wanted… needed… to get closer. Maven reached out a hand to lightly touch the surface just as Phil glanced over, suddenly concerned. “Hey, maybe we shouldn’t mess with… holy shit!”
“Whoa!”
Both Phil and Maven shielded their eyes as a sudden burst of bright light nearly blinded them. Sparkling golden mist swirled around them from the Pearl, enveloping them like a thick fog. It was simultaneously warm and cool as the scent of ozone and rain filled their nostrils, tendrils of vapor leaving gooseflesh in their wake and making them want to laugh as the curling misty tendrils tickled them lightly across their skin. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant. It crackled and popped around them with magical energy: a ticklish, almost electric jolt of adrenaline that left them incredibly sensitive and aware of every part of themselves.
Phil gasped as his boots abruptly tightened, his toes and ankles pressing snugly against the unforgiving material as his feet and heels swelled. The leather creaked and his shoelaces groaned, stretching and digging tightly into the boots’ tongues. He reached down to untie them and relieve the pressure, but his fingers were unusually sluggish to respond. They felt leaden and unwieldy, swollen tight inside his gloves. The leather was thick and strong, designed for hard farm work, but as his hands grew, the gloves groaned, squeaked, and finally gave way along the seams with a series of massive rips.
His relief at the release of pressure around his hands was short-lived as he stared in growing horror at his shifting fingers. The nails thickened, spreading across his fingers as they turned a deep crimson. Red keratin quickly spread across his digits as they pulled inward, shifting and melding together like shaped clay before becoming hard and solid. The feeling in his hands dulled as though he was still wearing his gloves, except for his palms, which twisted under and puffed up into the underside of a hoof, soft and sensitive with a triangular notch at the heel. He stared at his hands (hooves?) in a mixture of horror and fascination as his shoulders rounded and changed direction, forcing his arms in front of his deepening chest. The boots on his feet grew tighter and tighter, the quality material refusing to break just yet.
Meanwhile, Maven fell forward to his knees as his feet abruptly lengthened and his shins shortened. His toes and heels pushed tightly against the end of his canvas sneakers, until with nowhere else to go, his heels abruptly slipped and popped out of the back of his shoes. His toes, still within the body of the shoes, swelled more and more. The fabric and laces stretched tighter and tighter around his toes until he was afraid circulation might be cut off entirely. But finally, with a series of snaps and rips, the material burst. Shreds of purple fabric and white rubber soles fell to the hay.
His khaki pants had also grown tight around his thighs and the seat of his pants. The fabric stretched and sagged across unguligrade legs they were never designed to fit, snagging uncomfortably on his heels and knees, pulled down by his shifting legs, but stopped from falling off by the leather belt still latched tight above his hips. The fabric had little give, and despite its strength, eventually gave way at the seams. The unforgiving leather belt was worse as it tightened around his widening pelvis. It dug into the skin of his hips as the joints ground into a new orientation, forcing him to lean on all fours lest he fall over. His hands twisted before his eyes, the fingers forced to curl under until he was resting his weight entirely on his knuckles as his fingers merged and hardened into hooves.
Both Phil and Maven leaned forward as their spines tilted, each bone in their back moving as they were stretched and pulled. It felt like their tailbones were being yanked out by the root, stretching farther and farther out as new vertebrae formed, pushing at the strained fabric of their pants. Phil’s overalls pulled tight around his torso and hips as his tailbone pushed out and his chest widened into a barrel shape. The straps grew taut and pulled until the threads stretched and snapped, sending buttons flying. One landed by Maven’s feet, where his toes were curling under. His toenails flattened into a “u” shape, pulling around and over his feet and engulfing his toes and the pads of his foot with a numbing tickle. His tail pushed out of his ruined khakis, sending a prickling sensation up his back as hundreds of long white horsehairs pushed out of the new tail and fell forth in long flowing waves.
Phil’s overalls stretched taut around his hips, ripping and tearing first at the back seams and then along the pockets. Pressure grew until the seat of the overalls ruptured under the pressure, each massive tear revealing a long brown tail with bright blonde highlights. Their tails flowed smoothly as they burst free, glistening with golden light as wisps of transformative magic flowed over them.
Maven gasped as his shoulder blades abruptly twisted, forcing his arms forward into a quadrupedal stance. His hoodie and t-shirt stretched around his chest as it grew into a deep equine barrel, the distortion amplified by two nubs pushing out from his back. The stretchy, soft material of his shirt and jacket pulled and stretched as the nubs grew outward into what felt to Maven like two entirely new limbs. He was suddenly overwhelmed by sensory information, flailing his arms and new wings as his human brain tried to understand how to move them separately. The frantic motion pulled his shirt and jacket to and fro, wings ripping larger and larger holes in his shirt and jacket until they burst forth through the ruined fabric.
Next to him, Phil was experiencing a similar problem as his own wings began to emerge. His flannel shirt pulled uncomfortably snug about his shoulders, chest, and back, its front buttons straining to hold together. The gaps between each button grew larger and large as they were tasked with holding far more mass than they were meant to contain, stretching and ripping apart with rapid-fire snaps and pops. The flannel ultimately gave way along the path of least resistance, buttons snapping and flying away from the front panels as the sides and sleeves tore messily along the stitching. His wings abruptly burst free from the pieces of his clothes, sending scraps of flannel and denim flying.
Phil leaned forward as his spine shifted with a crackling noise and a lovely stretching feeling, and he reveled in how right it felt to finally stand on all fours even as he desperately tried to figure out how to move the new appendages on his back. His rear feet curled, hardening into hooves and destroying the remains of his boots as they took on their final equine form. The toes of his boots buckled and burst under the pressure. The boots’ laces, stretched thin to the absolute edge of their breaking point, snapped one after the other to send scraps of leather and cloth flying. He flinched in surprise at the sensation and lashed out with a rear hoof, accidentally bucking a stool across the barn with enough force to chip the paint and leave a dent in the wooden wall.
Pin feathers began to push out from Phil and Maven’s wings, prickling and itching as they burst free. The sheathed feathers grew quickly, bursting free from their casing and unfurling into a beautiful, smoothly overlapping series of primary, secondary, and tertiary flight feathers. Phil’s grew in beautiful shades of gold and deep garnet, while Maven’s developed into more natural hues of light and dark gray-browns.
Smaller feathers ran down from the tip of each wing toward their backs, leaving a tickling sensation in their wake that spread as it reached their shoulder blades. There, waves of short, soft equine fur began to spread out from the last feather. The smooth coat trickled up across their shoulders, down their chests and sides, around their arms and legs, and up around their necks and faces, painting Phil with glossy hues of bright red and Maven with deep champagne browns.
Phil exclaimed as his jawbone cracked, popping briefly out of place and expanding outward before settling into place again. His nose tingled, stretching out into his field of vision as it broadened and bulked into a stout muzzle. Trickles of red fur spread from the end up to his eyes, which ached as they grew and his field of vision grew wider. He didn’t even need to turn his head to see that Maven was undergoing a similar change: his canines were dulling in his new snout, gums aching as both canines and front teeth thinned and grew wider into flat but sharp incisors perfect for snipping grass and hay.
Their tongues flattened in their mouths, and as Maven felt his back molars flatten for grinding vegetation, he realized that his tongue was almost prehensile. He probed at his teeth and stretched his mouth open, wincing as his jaw crackled as the bones widened. He twitched his nose, pushing back the urge to sneeze, as it finished reforming into a blocky snout, and his glasses tilted askew with the motion.
Shocked, Maven realized that he could now actually see better without the glasses than with them. His vision was better than 20/20… he saw every piece of hay on the ground, the mouse skittering along in the corner of the barn, the trees swaying outside. Fat cumulous clouds drifted by in the sky outside, heavy with rain, and he startled as the foreign thought that they would make wonderfully comfortable beds for a quick post-flight afternoon nap drifted into his head.
His ears tingled as the tips arched into graceful points and the shell of the back of his ear curled up and forward, shifting higher towards the top of his head as they were slowly engulfed by grey fur. He instinctually flicked his ear, barely noticing as his unstable glasses finally tumbled to the ground.
Phil’s straw hat wobbled on his head, knocked askew by his shifting ears but not completely dislodged. His mane lengthened, new hairs pushing up in a line until it reached the upper part of his back, where his neck met his spine. He shook his arms and legs, accidentally flailing his wings as he tried to dislodge the last restrictive scraps of clothing still stuck to him. A quick flap led to a series of rips, with bits and pieces of green and white flannel cast away like seeds in the breeze, and finally something in his brain changed and clicked. He ruffled his wings and tucked them in against his body. Why did he think it was hard to control them? It wasn’t like he’d ever had fewer than six limbs… right? Something was still wrapped around his back hoof, though, and he kicked it a few times. Unnoticed, a piece of denim, part of a sock, and the remaining chunk of one of his boots clunked to the ground and rolled away to rest next to the stool he’d knocked over.
The remaining transformation magic curled around them, speeding the final changes and licking at their fur as it grew to cover the very last patches of exposed skin. Maven’s muzzle darkened, and in a blink Phil’s eyes faded from blue to bright yellow-green. The last remnants of their thumbs drew back into their wrists, wiry muscles like cords of steel threaded under their fur, and they shivered at the utterly bizarre sensation of their bones growing light and porous for flight. They shook with anticipation, unable to figure out what they were missing until finally, with a bright flash, cutie marks burst forth on their flanks and they knew.
The light faded, and tendrils of transformative energy abruptly drew back into the Pearl as though the lid to a treasure chest had been snapped shut. The Pegasi breathed deeply, flanks heaving, both exhausted but strangely energized.
Around them, unnoticed by their conscious minds, even the barn itself changed. Licks of bright paint swirled through the dull brown rafters, whitewash overlaid with intricate swirling designs spreading across the beams. Outside, fields of corn and vegetables faded and were replaced by a seemingly endless orchard of bountiful apple trees.
The gray Pegasus stretched his legs and wings, cracking his neck and shaking out his mane. He walked over to the uniforms hung on the wall and snagged the goggles in his teeth, expertly bouncing them from wing to hoof and snapping them on his head. He lowered them over his eyes, noting with satisfaction that they fit perfectly. “Hey Golden Wind, bet you can’t beat me to flight practice!”
“I’ll take that bet!” Golden Wind answered, snatching his uniform. “Last one there takes locker room cleaning duty for a week – hey!” He spun as a gray and blue blur shot by, skyrocketing out the open barn door. “That’s a head start, no fair!” He flexed his wings, folding his limbs close to his body to reduce drag as he leapt into the air.
The Pearl sat on its pile of hay bales, its pink glow falling across their ripped clothes and destroyed boots. The bright edges of the new world slowly flowed in, replacing them with things a little less out-of-place. Scraps of overalls turned to rags, torn boots to broken horseshoes. The two Pegasi’s laughter faded in the distance as they flew away from the barn, gradually replaced by birdsong and the distant sound of a school bell. Somewhere nearby, a collie barked. Far away in Canterlot, a radiant white Alicorn frowned as she felt something in the very fabric of space-time shift… before shrugging and going back to her cake.
It was just another bright, sunny day in Equestria.
My commission information and prices: https://www.furaffinity.net/commiss.....ferret-badger/
Also posted on Derpibooru: https://derpibooru.org/images/2617816
The heavy door swung open, sending dust particles swirling through bright rays of sunlight. The sweet scent of hay hung heavily in the air above an earthy undertone of dirt. Phil sighed happily as he walked into the barn he’d raised himself and adjusted his straw hat with gloved hands as he waited for his eyes to adjust to the relative darkness.
Maven walked in behind him, one hand in the pocket of his blue and red hoodie and the other on his phone. He swiped down through the group chat again and cleared his throat. “So, uh… do you know why Ace asked us to meet out here instead of coming up to the house?”
Phil quirked a smile, bemused. “Don’t know, but they have to have a reason, right?” He raised his voice. “Hey Ace, you in here?”
Only the fluttering of wings in the loft above answered him. Something big, he noted absently. Probably just another owl.
“…Ace? You wanted to show us something?” Phil squinted, his eyes slowly adjusting. The barn looked pretty much the same as usual: hay on the floor, an old wooden wheel leaning off to the side, and the usual farming tools, which he liked to leave scattered about in an organized mess. The walls gleamed with a relatively new coat of paint, shafts of sunlight poured through the windows, and… huh. Well, those were new.
“Oh hey, our costumes!” Maven exclaimed, walking over to the blue spandex Wonderbolts uniforms where they hung on wall pegs. He picked one up, looking it over before holding it in front of his chest. “Ace must have finished them early. How do I look?”
“One hundred percent cooler,” Phil laughed, grabbing the second. Man, these were quality. The fabric slid smoothly over his gloves. It was as light and soft as a cloud, stretchy but strong. “Hey Ace, you’d better not be hiding somewhere to film our reactions or something. We’ve got to try these on and make sure they fit. We only have about a couple of weeks left before the con, and I still need to finish sorting out the manes and tails. So where—”
“Hey Phil, what is this?” Maven interrupted. Phil hung his uniform back on the peg, glancing over to where Maven stood in front of a pile of hay bales. Maven’s face was lit by a slight pinkish glow, the light catching in his hair and glasses. It was a comforting kind of light, soft and… entrancing. Phil walked over slowly toward the source, marveling as the glow grew stronger with each step. He stopped next to Maven, staring at an absolutely massive pink pearl sitting on the bales of hay. Light danced under its iridescent surface, pulsating through shimmering shades of pink, yellow, and orange while sparkles of light twinkled in its depths like distant stars. “Is that a fake Pearl of Transformation?”
“It looks real,” Phil marveled, leaning in closer. The air around the Pearl felt warm and comforting like a toasty hearth and a warm mug of hot cocoa in the dead of winter. His skin prickled as he leaned in, basking in its aura, and Maven swayed where he stood, thoughts fuzzy. He wanted… needed… to get closer. Maven reached out a hand to lightly touch the surface just as Phil glanced over, suddenly concerned. “Hey, maybe we shouldn’t mess with… holy shit!”
“Whoa!”
Both Phil and Maven shielded their eyes as a sudden burst of bright light nearly blinded them. Sparkling golden mist swirled around them from the Pearl, enveloping them like a thick fog. It was simultaneously warm and cool as the scent of ozone and rain filled their nostrils, tendrils of vapor leaving gooseflesh in their wake and making them want to laugh as the curling misty tendrils tickled them lightly across their skin. The sensation was strange but not unpleasant. It crackled and popped around them with magical energy: a ticklish, almost electric jolt of adrenaline that left them incredibly sensitive and aware of every part of themselves.
Phil gasped as his boots abruptly tightened, his toes and ankles pressing snugly against the unforgiving material as his feet and heels swelled. The leather creaked and his shoelaces groaned, stretching and digging tightly into the boots’ tongues. He reached down to untie them and relieve the pressure, but his fingers were unusually sluggish to respond. They felt leaden and unwieldy, swollen tight inside his gloves. The leather was thick and strong, designed for hard farm work, but as his hands grew, the gloves groaned, squeaked, and finally gave way along the seams with a series of massive rips.
His relief at the release of pressure around his hands was short-lived as he stared in growing horror at his shifting fingers. The nails thickened, spreading across his fingers as they turned a deep crimson. Red keratin quickly spread across his digits as they pulled inward, shifting and melding together like shaped clay before becoming hard and solid. The feeling in his hands dulled as though he was still wearing his gloves, except for his palms, which twisted under and puffed up into the underside of a hoof, soft and sensitive with a triangular notch at the heel. He stared at his hands (hooves?) in a mixture of horror and fascination as his shoulders rounded and changed direction, forcing his arms in front of his deepening chest. The boots on his feet grew tighter and tighter, the quality material refusing to break just yet.
Meanwhile, Maven fell forward to his knees as his feet abruptly lengthened and his shins shortened. His toes and heels pushed tightly against the end of his canvas sneakers, until with nowhere else to go, his heels abruptly slipped and popped out of the back of his shoes. His toes, still within the body of the shoes, swelled more and more. The fabric and laces stretched tighter and tighter around his toes until he was afraid circulation might be cut off entirely. But finally, with a series of snaps and rips, the material burst. Shreds of purple fabric and white rubber soles fell to the hay.
His khaki pants had also grown tight around his thighs and the seat of his pants. The fabric stretched and sagged across unguligrade legs they were never designed to fit, snagging uncomfortably on his heels and knees, pulled down by his shifting legs, but stopped from falling off by the leather belt still latched tight above his hips. The fabric had little give, and despite its strength, eventually gave way at the seams. The unforgiving leather belt was worse as it tightened around his widening pelvis. It dug into the skin of his hips as the joints ground into a new orientation, forcing him to lean on all fours lest he fall over. His hands twisted before his eyes, the fingers forced to curl under until he was resting his weight entirely on his knuckles as his fingers merged and hardened into hooves.
Both Phil and Maven leaned forward as their spines tilted, each bone in their back moving as they were stretched and pulled. It felt like their tailbones were being yanked out by the root, stretching farther and farther out as new vertebrae formed, pushing at the strained fabric of their pants. Phil’s overalls pulled tight around his torso and hips as his tailbone pushed out and his chest widened into a barrel shape. The straps grew taut and pulled until the threads stretched and snapped, sending buttons flying. One landed by Maven’s feet, where his toes were curling under. His toenails flattened into a “u” shape, pulling around and over his feet and engulfing his toes and the pads of his foot with a numbing tickle. His tail pushed out of his ruined khakis, sending a prickling sensation up his back as hundreds of long white horsehairs pushed out of the new tail and fell forth in long flowing waves.
Phil’s overalls stretched taut around his hips, ripping and tearing first at the back seams and then along the pockets. Pressure grew until the seat of the overalls ruptured under the pressure, each massive tear revealing a long brown tail with bright blonde highlights. Their tails flowed smoothly as they burst free, glistening with golden light as wisps of transformative magic flowed over them.
Maven gasped as his shoulder blades abruptly twisted, forcing his arms forward into a quadrupedal stance. His hoodie and t-shirt stretched around his chest as it grew into a deep equine barrel, the distortion amplified by two nubs pushing out from his back. The stretchy, soft material of his shirt and jacket pulled and stretched as the nubs grew outward into what felt to Maven like two entirely new limbs. He was suddenly overwhelmed by sensory information, flailing his arms and new wings as his human brain tried to understand how to move them separately. The frantic motion pulled his shirt and jacket to and fro, wings ripping larger and larger holes in his shirt and jacket until they burst forth through the ruined fabric.
Next to him, Phil was experiencing a similar problem as his own wings began to emerge. His flannel shirt pulled uncomfortably snug about his shoulders, chest, and back, its front buttons straining to hold together. The gaps between each button grew larger and large as they were tasked with holding far more mass than they were meant to contain, stretching and ripping apart with rapid-fire snaps and pops. The flannel ultimately gave way along the path of least resistance, buttons snapping and flying away from the front panels as the sides and sleeves tore messily along the stitching. His wings abruptly burst free from the pieces of his clothes, sending scraps of flannel and denim flying.
Phil leaned forward as his spine shifted with a crackling noise and a lovely stretching feeling, and he reveled in how right it felt to finally stand on all fours even as he desperately tried to figure out how to move the new appendages on his back. His rear feet curled, hardening into hooves and destroying the remains of his boots as they took on their final equine form. The toes of his boots buckled and burst under the pressure. The boots’ laces, stretched thin to the absolute edge of their breaking point, snapped one after the other to send scraps of leather and cloth flying. He flinched in surprise at the sensation and lashed out with a rear hoof, accidentally bucking a stool across the barn with enough force to chip the paint and leave a dent in the wooden wall.
Pin feathers began to push out from Phil and Maven’s wings, prickling and itching as they burst free. The sheathed feathers grew quickly, bursting free from their casing and unfurling into a beautiful, smoothly overlapping series of primary, secondary, and tertiary flight feathers. Phil’s grew in beautiful shades of gold and deep garnet, while Maven’s developed into more natural hues of light and dark gray-browns.
Smaller feathers ran down from the tip of each wing toward their backs, leaving a tickling sensation in their wake that spread as it reached their shoulder blades. There, waves of short, soft equine fur began to spread out from the last feather. The smooth coat trickled up across their shoulders, down their chests and sides, around their arms and legs, and up around their necks and faces, painting Phil with glossy hues of bright red and Maven with deep champagne browns.
Phil exclaimed as his jawbone cracked, popping briefly out of place and expanding outward before settling into place again. His nose tingled, stretching out into his field of vision as it broadened and bulked into a stout muzzle. Trickles of red fur spread from the end up to his eyes, which ached as they grew and his field of vision grew wider. He didn’t even need to turn his head to see that Maven was undergoing a similar change: his canines were dulling in his new snout, gums aching as both canines and front teeth thinned and grew wider into flat but sharp incisors perfect for snipping grass and hay.
Their tongues flattened in their mouths, and as Maven felt his back molars flatten for grinding vegetation, he realized that his tongue was almost prehensile. He probed at his teeth and stretched his mouth open, wincing as his jaw crackled as the bones widened. He twitched his nose, pushing back the urge to sneeze, as it finished reforming into a blocky snout, and his glasses tilted askew with the motion.
Shocked, Maven realized that he could now actually see better without the glasses than with them. His vision was better than 20/20… he saw every piece of hay on the ground, the mouse skittering along in the corner of the barn, the trees swaying outside. Fat cumulous clouds drifted by in the sky outside, heavy with rain, and he startled as the foreign thought that they would make wonderfully comfortable beds for a quick post-flight afternoon nap drifted into his head.
His ears tingled as the tips arched into graceful points and the shell of the back of his ear curled up and forward, shifting higher towards the top of his head as they were slowly engulfed by grey fur. He instinctually flicked his ear, barely noticing as his unstable glasses finally tumbled to the ground.
Phil’s straw hat wobbled on his head, knocked askew by his shifting ears but not completely dislodged. His mane lengthened, new hairs pushing up in a line until it reached the upper part of his back, where his neck met his spine. He shook his arms and legs, accidentally flailing his wings as he tried to dislodge the last restrictive scraps of clothing still stuck to him. A quick flap led to a series of rips, with bits and pieces of green and white flannel cast away like seeds in the breeze, and finally something in his brain changed and clicked. He ruffled his wings and tucked them in against his body. Why did he think it was hard to control them? It wasn’t like he’d ever had fewer than six limbs… right? Something was still wrapped around his back hoof, though, and he kicked it a few times. Unnoticed, a piece of denim, part of a sock, and the remaining chunk of one of his boots clunked to the ground and rolled away to rest next to the stool he’d knocked over.
The remaining transformation magic curled around them, speeding the final changes and licking at their fur as it grew to cover the very last patches of exposed skin. Maven’s muzzle darkened, and in a blink Phil’s eyes faded from blue to bright yellow-green. The last remnants of their thumbs drew back into their wrists, wiry muscles like cords of steel threaded under their fur, and they shivered at the utterly bizarre sensation of their bones growing light and porous for flight. They shook with anticipation, unable to figure out what they were missing until finally, with a bright flash, cutie marks burst forth on their flanks and they knew.
The light faded, and tendrils of transformative energy abruptly drew back into the Pearl as though the lid to a treasure chest had been snapped shut. The Pegasi breathed deeply, flanks heaving, both exhausted but strangely energized.
Around them, unnoticed by their conscious minds, even the barn itself changed. Licks of bright paint swirled through the dull brown rafters, whitewash overlaid with intricate swirling designs spreading across the beams. Outside, fields of corn and vegetables faded and were replaced by a seemingly endless orchard of bountiful apple trees.
The gray Pegasus stretched his legs and wings, cracking his neck and shaking out his mane. He walked over to the uniforms hung on the wall and snagged the goggles in his teeth, expertly bouncing them from wing to hoof and snapping them on his head. He lowered them over his eyes, noting with satisfaction that they fit perfectly. “Hey Golden Wind, bet you can’t beat me to flight practice!”
“I’ll take that bet!” Golden Wind answered, snatching his uniform. “Last one there takes locker room cleaning duty for a week – hey!” He spun as a gray and blue blur shot by, skyrocketing out the open barn door. “That’s a head start, no fair!” He flexed his wings, folding his limbs close to his body to reduce drag as he leapt into the air.
The Pearl sat on its pile of hay bales, its pink glow falling across their ripped clothes and destroyed boots. The bright edges of the new world slowly flowed in, replacing them with things a little less out-of-place. Scraps of overalls turned to rags, torn boots to broken horseshoes. The two Pegasi’s laughter faded in the distance as they flew away from the barn, gradually replaced by birdsong and the distant sound of a school bell. Somewhere nearby, a collie barked. Far away in Canterlot, a radiant white Alicorn frowned as she felt something in the very fabric of space-time shift… before shrugging and going back to her cake.
It was just another bright, sunny day in Equestria.
My commission information and prices: https://www.furaffinity.net/commiss.....ferret-badger/
Category Artwork (Digital) / Transformation
Species Pony
Gender Male
Size 1707 x 1280px
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