Richard lurked in the dark, standing under a tree in the amphitheater behind the church. The plants did a capable job of blocking the nearby streetlights; he had a choice between several redundant murky regions. He chose the one that gave him the best view of the inside of the building.

The youth pastor assured Richard this was the day of the week Darian left the premises in full costume. The expected time for the cursed event fast approached. He hoped something would happen soon; it was the usual sweltering Tucson summer evening, and he was sweating profusely. The inside of the gay furry club would undoubtedly be air-conditioned, and he was ashamed to realize he was looking forward to any aspect of what was about to happen.

Something stirred on the stairs. Richard crouched as well as he could to try to get a better look; the dark shape was too indistinct to be identified. Richard watched as the figure left the stairs and walked to the side, an errant streetlight catching him for a moment. The equine head jumped out at him like a scorpion’s sting. Whether or not it was Darian, it was definitely someone in a full-headed horse outfit, and thus his target. The figure unexpectedly turned and walked toward the front door; apparently his first stop wouldn’t be the parking lot.

Richard emerged from his hiding spot as quickly as he could, and waddled at full speed toward the front of the building. The corpulent latex hippo costume didn’t allow much freedom of movement, and the Fleshlight shoved between his legs, terminating at the costume’s bunghole, made movement even more awkward. But the youth pastor insisted it was necessary; the alternative was much worse. Richard hoped this was the evening’s low point, but knew that was too much to expect; it was bound to go straight downhill from here.

He reached the street and peered around the corner; Darian was about a block away, still in sight. He lumbered after him, choosing a lilting motion, throwing each leg forward in turn, landing hard each time. The incessant hum of the city, even at night, was loud enough to conceal his footsteps. Richard watched Darian turn a corner and disappear; he hobbled to that point and looked in Darian’s last known direction. The streetlight revealed more detail; the horse costume, while shaped accurately, shimmered with every color of the rainbow. There was a pullover sweater tied around his waist; Richard shuddered to think what it might be hiding.

He was now across the street, about to pass by a park. Richard crossed the street to match him; that side afforded a deeper shadow. Reaching the next corner, he staggered across the street and now walked along the park, Darian only a half block away.

Richard heard something stir in the plants up ahead; Darian heard it too, for he turned to look. Without warning, he let out a loud bark, exactly in the way that horses don’t, then continued walking. The response came a few seconds later: “Oh, wow…they only come out at night.” That was followed shortly afterward by another gurgling utterance: “Did that really just happen?”

Richard neared the point of the disturbance; as expected, there were two homeless men nesting in the bushes. They gaped at Richard, speechless. One eyed his booze suspiciously, then threw it away; the plastic bottle bounced and caromed randomly, not shattering. As Richard passed by, he let out a loud, low growl, then went on his way. There was no response until he was almost out of earshot, as one of them whined plaintively. “I really gotta clean up my act.”

Darian walked through a gate and up to a well-lit townhouse. Two other furries stood in the yard, talking to each other; both were also dressed as horses, but merely two-toned, not rainbow. One saw Darian approach. “Who loves ya, baby?” one called out. Darian’s only response was a loud bark; he quickly ascended the staircase and knocked on the door. The red-and-blue horse turned to the green-and-brown one. “Well, that was uncalled for.”

Richard swallowed hard and emerged from the shadows. The two anthropomorphic horses watched him as he approached. “Whoa, cool! Great idea!” one cheered. The other reached out to touch him as he passed. “Mmmm…so soft. I’ll be up in a few minutes.” Richard’s stomach clenched as if he had eaten rancid raw clams served on a dirty ashtray with a hair on it. He raced up the stairway and knocked on the door.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

It opened to reveal a tall, burly figure swaddled in a pastel horse outfit, but unlike the others he had seen tonight, the face was visible. His eyes lit up as he saw Richard. “Wow! It’s not common to see someone dressed up as the hippo.” He threw Richard a sly look. “So where’s the foal that’s supposed to be riding you?”

Richard felt a titanic chill wash over him; either he was going into heatstroke, or he had never been more terrified in his life.

The door sentry suddenly laughed. “Hey, it’s OK…you don’t have to be Master Blaster. Come on in!” He stepped aside and made room; Richard felt a blast of air conditioning hit him. The reptilian portion of his brain, concerned only with basic survival, animated his legs and dragged him inside.

The living room overflowed with full-sized adults in horse costumes. Well over half of the headdresses revealed the face; Richard didn’t see a single female among them. He also couldn’t understand why it was just horses; was it a special themed night? Were they really that mindlessly conformist? And why were they merely chatting with each other? It seemed suspiciously innocent.

Richard suddenly zeroed in on a nearby TV screen. It showed cartoon horses, frolicking in a field, sappy music playing in the background. Somehow, it looked familiar.

Realization flooded over him like a concrete mixing truck losing its load on the highway. All at once, the pattern clicked, and he breathed a huge sigh of relief. This wasn’t a gay furry club…it was a bunch of My Little Pony fans! He never thought he’d be so relieved to find himself surrounded by bronies.

His knees buckled and he collapsed into the couch behind him. A loud protest erupted from behind. “Hey! Whoa! Get off me! I don’t swing that way, dude!”

Richard stumbled to his feet. “Sorry about that.” Relief continued to pump through his arteries like menthol mixed with Jack Daniel’s. He wanted to give the offended party a grateful hug, but that would take him in the wrong direction. He simply nodded to the equestrian fanboy and shuffled away.

He scanned the room a few times; Darian, or whoever was in the rainbow horse outfit, was nowhere to be seen. Two halls led away from the living room; the kitchen, separated only by a counter, hid no secrets, and there was no sign of Darian there either. Slowly, he made his way to one hall, continually apologizing for his girth. Most people politely got out of his way, pausing only to admire his costume.

Richard made it all the way to the bedroom at the end, where a smattering of bronies were gathered. No sign of Darian. Sighing, he turned around and made his way back.

Working his way down the other hallway, he saw an open door leading to a weight room, complete with a treadmill and pull-up bar. Standing near the middle was a familiar-looking rainbow horse with a sweater tied around the waist. Richard moved to just inside the room, so that he no longer blocked the doorway, but then his mind went blank. What exactly was he supposed to do? How would he tell Darian that he knew who he was? And what did it matter, anyway? Plenty of grown men role-played as bronies; it was a surprisingly upstanding group, marred by only a handful of miscreants. His next move eluded him like a toddler trying to delay bath time.

He felt a hand on his shoulder; it was the brony from outside. “Is that real latex? High quality costume, dude! I guess that makes you the gelled corn syrup in the Stretch Armstrong, am I right?”

Richard brushed the hand away. “I don’t swing that way.”

The brony reared back. “Me either! Ew! Just admiring the duds, man. No need to get weird about it.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” Richard apologized. “It’s been a rough night.”

“Tell me about it!” the brony sympathized. “It’s a hundred degrees outside at 10pm. You must be melting in there. Still, thanks for livening up the party. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone larping as the hippo. I can’t even remember his name.”

“Me either,” Richard replied truthfully.

“I think he’s a fan, too,” the brony added, pointing out Darian. “Or something.” Richard watched as Darian approached him slowly, the nose of the horse-head pointed firmly in his direction.

“I know that voice,” Darian growled.

There was no reason to hide it anymore. “Hello, Darian.”

“Oh, shoot!” Darian nearly yelled as he bolted out of the room and down the hall.