File: 1726989251445256.png (732 KB, 1280x989)

732 KB PNG

Any horror based transformation stories?

>>41449508
wasn't there a story that went with this image

>>41449508
is the horror not being transformed into a pony?

File: 1660628210062.png (343 KB, 829x1283)

343 KB PNG

>>41450294
At its core, it's wish fulfillment in my opinion. The horror would come from how the ponification happens (grotesque and bone-snapping as opposed to a nice little magical poof), and the aftermath (identity death as opposed to inner peace and helping become your best self).
Maybe a cool potential horror story could be a Tusk kind of situation? Ponification the old fashioned way without any nanomachines or magic or whatever. Protagonist has to escape a fucked up lab and not gather too much ire from the powers that be.
I don't really know any off the top of my head. As a non-pet fag I personally file Zephyr's Tale as horror in my head. That aside, there's a few stories I shill a lot that I'd like to shill again here.
>Cuddly Doom
Cool post-apocalyptic vibes. Fun spinoffs. Scary identity stuff. The horror for me comes from the implications regarding identity and some other shit. It was the first story I read so I guess it got to me.
>Let Her In
Cosmic event. Again, most of the horror to me is the identity death-ish stuff, but also the complete inevitability of it, it's game over.
>Outbreak
I guess. Kind of grasping for straws at here. This one was pretty grotesque.

>>41450294
I mean imagine all of your friends turning ponies and you turn into a nasty ass mule

>"Ms. Redenbacher? Are you listening to me?"
>Your mind snaps back to attention at the sound of your surname
"Yes, I think so"
>"You... think so?"
>Fuck, what was the last thing you remember him saying?
"I... need a therapist to continue receiving the Luna's Exile living assistance fund?"
>"I'm glad you were paying attention, after all. You can choose between the three in the folder."
>You shuffle to the edge of the folding chair and pick the folder up with a forehoof, the papers awkwardly sliding out onto the table
>After weighing your options, you can see that only one of them is a licensed psychologist. The other two have expertise in social work, which you get enough of here on your weekly visits to Tidy Home's cramped office.
"I'll take Ms. Axon."
>He raises an eyebrow.
>"Mrs. Axon. She's married. To me."
>Fuck, did you tell him you liked mares? Fuckfuckfuckfuck
"Of course, s-sorry."
>"She has an opening for an evaluation next Monday at 3 pm. Be there or the checks are going to stop coming."
>He stands up, trotting over to the door and opening it for you as you get up
>"Oh, and Orwell?"
"Yes?"
>"Do try to go somewhere and do something this weekend. Part of the fund's maintenance requires that you /try/ to be a functioning member of society, whether or not you succeed."
"Of course..."
>Your voice trails off as you pack the various forms into your saddlebags and then hoist them onto your back
>You exit without Tidy giving you another word and begin the trek back to your little apartment
>It's actually pretty nice, a ground floor 1 bed studio. Just barely enough space for a human but plenty for a pony (you detested your old one on earth for that reason)
>There's a little porch out back that overlooks a stream
>When it gets late enough to where you're sure nopony can see you out, you sometimes sit out on the porch, listen to the brook babble on a bit about entropy and a lot about hydrology, and write in your magic notebook
>Your most recent story is more of a sightseeing tour, it's an idea borrowed from a song that was probably borrowed from Douglas Adams.
>You're not entirely sure, you never got the chance to ask the artist even if you had wanted to, and now you never will.
>You plop the saddlebags down at the door, adjust the cooling crystals to be a nice chilly temperature, and throw on your hoodie
>You don't even climb under the covers for your nap, you simply curl up like a happy pet and close your eyes...
>
>
>
>When you awaken, it's early afternoon by the size of the shapes on your wall that the sun is puppeting with the drapes
>In your dim, waking recollections you feel a nag that you have near overdue library books, so your hoodie goes off again to contend with the heat, the papers are cleared from your saddlebags, and they are filled with the books instead
>You read some of them, you're always looking for new literary material.

>>41451080
>Sometimes it comes from an obvious place like a book, other times it comes from a more obtuse place like an interaction.
>Always, your brain is overactively tumbling shit like this around like one of those gemstone grinders. Polishing and polishing until a very shiny but likely completely worthless stone emerges.
>More recently, you've been letting out the rougher stones. Still no raws, but fuck you're tired of your attachment to overly ambitious concepts.
>Sometimes it's just fun to muck about for a while
>Oh yes, and the reason you go to the library at all isn't even research...
>It's her.
>You don't even know her name, nametags are much less common than you got used to when you were human.
>But she's always wearing a smile when you shyly put a stack of books on the counter
>You're convinced she's read every one in the four walls, she always compliments some of your choices and suggests that you skip on others
>Quite frankly, you've fallen madly in love with her.
>But you're so terrified of doing anything with her, she's...
>Perfect, angelic. You're dirt, not even a true pony.
>Former human, filthy-souled imposter.
>Second-rate snowpity.
>You could go on, but at a certain point all of the self-hatred gets exhausting enough to where you have to just stop lest you go from feeling sorry for yourself to becoming even more useless than you are in a given day
>You drop everything into the drop box without a second thought, you love seeing the library mare but she'll know something is up if you go to her to return everything.
>Best to just have her follow up on what you liked or didn't, you're enough of a regular that she more than recognizes your checkouts in the card inventory system
>You begin the walk two blocks back to the apartment, you've got some writing you'd like to get done on the scenic properties of the end of eternity.
>As you prepare a cheap bowl of noodles, you tumble the stone around in your head a little bit more about asking her out
>You'd take her to the movies this weekend, your favorite pony director recently released a new action movie
>You think she would get a kick out of it, at least from what Las Pegasus Insider says
>As you sip from your noodle cup, you find your hoof rummaging around in your saddlebags for your notebook
>Idly slurping as you do so, the thought occurs to you that you may have brought it with you to the caseworker and then unpacked it with the forms
>You set down your food and check the pile of paper, nothing
>God, then where is it?
>You think you remember packing-
>You let out a little cry of terror as you realize what you've done and take off in a gallop to the library
>
>
>
>You get there and see that the desk is empty, you ring the bell for service
>and again
>and again and again until you look like you're ding dong ditching
>Heh, that's one way to describe how you ended up here you suppose
>God-awful jokes aside, you climb over the desk

>>41451109
>No more time to waste, anypony who finds your notebook and doesn't know what it is could be in serious trouble
>Or truthfully, already dead.
>The land of conceptuals is not to be trifled with, after all.
>You rummage through the unfiled stock, finding nothing
>Trotting over to the bin beneath the drop box reveals that it's been emptied recently, but then...
>You turn around, and as though the universe has comedic timing, see your book turned open to its most recent pages
>As you rush over you mutter a prayer for her safety softly under your breath and then...
>Allow the story to suck you in in a very literal sense.
>You're in the engine room of the ship, she's nowhere in sight.
>When you open the door to the tiny flight deck, you can see her staring out at the dots and dashes of existence that are left
>She turns back to you and smiles
>"You know this area is employees only, Orwell."
>Fuck, she knows your name?
>Your stomach is full of butterflies, but you manage a retort
"W-well, I could say the same thing about my notebook."
>She laughs, good-naturedly.
>"So, this is the end of the universe? You don't subscribe to the heat death theory?"
"I don't subscribe to any particular theory at all. I just thought that gravitational collapse had a poetic beauty to it."
>"and why is that?"
"Because..."
>You look down at your hooves
"It brings me some comfort to think that at the end of time, everything will be one again. All crushed into a single, infinitesimally small point of infinitesimally high density."
>"It's very pretty. Did you do all of the calculations yourself?"
"The book can handle a lot of that stuff, I wish."
>The two of you watch a galaxy zip by.
>"So, the ship is technically on a second plane of existence, right?"
"Mhm."
>"Then the watchers get to view it all and then go back home for tea?"
"Not exactly. I haven't written it yet, but their own universe is predicted for collapse just days later. It's... more of a coping mechanism. Trying to come to terms with the coming end."
>"You have a lot of sadness within you."
"I'm going to be starting therapy soon, I'm told."
>"I want to warm you up."
"I-"
>"You like movies, right?"
"Y-yeah"
>"Let's go see one tomorrow at noon, then. My treat."
>You pull the two of you out of the book, it's dangerous to stay in there too long.
>You can attest to that, and so can your body double.
>The book is collected and held securely, and you begin to exit after awkwardly waving to your new friend
"Wait, uh... what's your name?"
>She giggles warmly
>"I'm Dewey. Dewey Fore."
>You give her your best smile and say
"Thank you"
>Perhaps a little bit too loudly for the library
>You spend the rest of the night staring at the creek, your mind racing until exhaustion finally trumps anxiety and you pass out seated in the cool autumn air.
End of line.

>>41449477
>child support
but you're my wife, silly horse.

File: 1UdSjQP.png (76 KB, 618x615)

76 KB PNG

>>41453305

File: 1GZA9k3.png (75 KB, 618x615)

75 KB PNG

>>41453305

>>41449831
Don't think so. You might be thinking of this. https://desuarchive.org/mlp/thread/30520138/#30529242

>>41453741
Why not just transform into a human is she stupid?

File: image (2).png (1.86 MB, 1117x804)

1.86 MB PNG

>>41454883

File: CLIPStudioPaint_vv03zjZUYv.png (1.9 MB, 1068x777)

1.9 MB PNG

>>41456353

File: image (3).png (1.7 MB, 993x872)

1.7 MB PNG

>>41456612

File: 1710472078740.png (54 KB, 407x339)

54 KB PNG

any of you at mare fair?