“So, what did you want to talk about today, Cassady?”

Cassady looked up. She’d been staring down at her hands as she fidgeted, picking at her fingernails, which she’d already bitten to the quick. She was sitting in the middle of a comfy white couch in a spacious office - though it was cosy, for an office. Probably to put patients at ease, she imagined. It even had a set of sliding glass doors that led out onto a well-maintained lawn, letting in lots of natural light. A very relaxing environment.

Dr. Cotter sat in a white chair a few feet in front of her, an open notepad in her lap and a pen in her hand. Cassady gazed at her for a few seconds, taking in every detail of her appearance once again - just to reassure herself of her own first impressions. Dr. Cotter was probably mid-to-late thirties, and looked effortlessly glamorous, wearing a simple but pretty burgundy top, a long black skirt, and gold hoop earrings. She had long, curly brunette hair and grey-blue eyes, which, to Cassady, seemed full of kindness and wisdom. Just what she wanted from a therapist - particularly given what she wanted to discuss...

Cassady prided herself on having good instincts about people - she usually knew whether or not she could trust someone within minutes of meeting them. That was how she’d known the previous three therapists she’d spoken to would be no help, and they’d soon proven her right. Cotter immediately seemed different - Cassady got a good vibe from her straight away. She felt sure this woman would be able to help her.

Still, it was difficult to talk about... the thing she needed to talk about. She’d never quite found the right words...

“It’s alright if you don’t know where to start,” Cotter said, smiling warmly. “It’s OK if it all comes out in a big babble! Just say whatever comes to mind, and know that I won’t judge you, or be shocked by anything you might say...”

Cassady chuckled weakly. “You say that now, Dr. Cotter...”

“I do,” the therapist replied, her smile never wavering. “And I say it with some confidence, believe me! And please, call me Eliza.”

“OK.” Cassady took a deep breath. May as well just start at the beginning, she told herself.

“So, my family - we’re rich... You probably know that, right?”

Dr. Cotter - Eliza - nodded. “Yes, I do. I actually voted for your mother in the last election!” Cassady’s mother was a Senator.

“Right... So when I was a kid, my parents would buy me expensive things, and pay for all sorts of extra curricular stuff... I mean, I’m not spoiled or anything - at least I hope I’m not! But anyway, my favourite thing they ever got, my birthday present when I was seven, was a pony. Like, a common brown pony, nothing special by pony standards - but I loved her. I loved her so much. She was so friendly, and she always did just as she was told - I never had any problems with her, which is kind of rare for ponies - they’re often pretty stubborn and hard to handle!

“I named her Hope. We kept her in a stable on our land - we’ve got, like, an estate, so there was plenty of space for her to gallop around in. I got so obsessed with her, and with ponies in general. I had loads of toy ponies, and I’d race them around on my bedroom floor... I had pony posters stuck up on all the walls... It went on for years. When I was nine, my parents bought me another pony - a male this time, another brown one, named Delta. He was wonderful too. I spent almost as much time with him as I did with Hope. I even performed a marriage ceremony for them one time, though in hindsight I think they were kind of ambivalent about each other!”

Eliza chuckled softly, but didn’t interrupt.

“I spent more and more time with them. My parents kinda let it slide - they thought I’d grow out of it, probably when I started middle school. But I only got more obsessed. I stopped concentrating on my schoolwork, my homework was always poor quality... My teachers got mad at me all the time, and my parents kept telling me I needed to focus, but I didn’t listen. I didn’t care. All that mattered to me was ponies, ponies, ponies.

“I didn’t just like them, I loved them. And it didn’t feel normal, even to me - it was stronger than, like, any other owner’s love for their pet, their animal. It went deeper than that. I felt a... a kinship with them. I felt closer to Hope and Delta than I did to my own family...”

Cassady realised she was biting her worn-down nails again. Not surprising, given that she was approaching the most crucial part of her story. The headline. The heart of the matter. The part that was going to change opinions of her from ‘lovable pony nerd’ to ‘full-blown wackjob’.

“Eventually I realised I didn’t just want to be around ponies.” She tried hard to meet Eliza’s eyes as she spoke. “I... I wanted to be a pony. In fact... a big part of me felt like... I was one.”

Eliza’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

Cassady sighed. “I know it sounds crazy...”

At last the doctor spoke. “I try my best never to use that word to describe any of my patients,” she said reassuringly. “And this may surprise you, but it doesn’t sound as crazy as you might think.”

Cassady raised a sceptical eyebrow.

Eliza just smiled. “Go on, please.”

“Well... I realised I didn’t want to be riding on my ponies - they were my friends, not just my steeds. I wanted to gallop along with them, next to them...” She made a little derisive snort. “Of course, that’s not really feasible since I have a human body - I probably couldn’t keep pace with them, and I might get trampled. But it was nice to think about. And I noticed I was developing these pony mannerisms, little habits that were very similar to their behaviour. I still have them. I don’t know what caused them - whether I picked them up from Hope and Delta, or from reading a shit-ton of books and magazines about ponies... or whether they were already part of me somehow. I’m not sure if it even matters.

“I’ve always liked going for walks, particularly in wide-open spaces, and when I walk at speed, it’s like I’m trotting like a pony. That was something a friend pointed out to me, when she came for a sleepover one weekend. And, uh, when I’m upset, or annoyed, I toss my hair.” She demonstrated, throwing her head quickly over to the left and sending her long dark hair flying over her shoulder. “Like that. Horses and ponies tend to do that when they’re agitated. And - this is a weird one - I have this habit of absent-mindedly biting on things - hard things, like pencils. Like, I stick them fully in my mouth, like a bit - the bit on a horse’s bridle, that goes between their teeth. I’d do that for thirty minutes, or even an hour, at a time.

“Anyway, it all came to a head when I was thirteen, and my dad caught me sneaking back into the house in the morning. I’d been creeping out in the middle of the night, and going down to the stables to sleep with Hope and Delta. Turns out, piles of hay are more comfortable than they look! A little itchy, but I didn’t mind. I just... it felt right, being there. It felt more right sleeping in the stables - lying next to Hope, with her body heat keeping me warm - than, than sleeping in my bed, in my bedroom!

“I didn’t tell Mom and Dad any of this. I knew they wouldn’t get it. And besides, they didn’t give me a chance. They just assumed my pony phase had gotten out of hand, and they decided I needed to go cold turkey.” Cassady’s eyes were downcast and tearful. “They sold Hope and Delta. They made me move on and start acting like a ‘normal kid’. That’s what Dad said - ‘you need to act like a normal kid, young lady’. I cried for days. I hoped if they saw how upset I was - and I was absolutely distraught, I can tell you - they might change their minds. They might bring my friends back to me. But they didn’t. And finally, I accepted it. My ponies were gone, and I had to move on. Focus on school. Grow up. Be... normal. I thought the feeling would go away - that eventually, I’d stop feeling like a pony.”

She met Eliza’s eyes once again. “But it never did go away. I still feel it, eight years later. I still have those habits of sticking pencils between my teeth, and tossing my hair, and trotting around open spaces... I live in the city now, in my own apartment, so it can be hard to find a nice wide space to gallop around. But my living room is pretty Spartan - there’s not much furniture, just a TV on the wall and a couch in the centre of the room. I keep the edges of the room clear so if I’m feeling antsy I can just trot around the perimeter - I do that, like, three times a week, for ten, fifteen minutes at a time. Keeps me in shape!” she joked, laughing shakily. “Although, having said that, I do work out at the gym, like a hu- a normal person...

“But the point is, that side of myself has never gone away. If anything, it’s growing stronger all the time, and I’m getting more and more restless and agitated because I don’t have the chance to let it out. I’ve got these really scratchy bedsheets, I got them specifically because I was trying to recreate the feeling of lying on hay, and they’re the closest I’ve found - I hate lying in a soft bed. So at night I lie on these sheets, and I sleep soundly, and I dream about lying in a stable, or trotting or galloping in a field, or having someone riding on my back - or even pulling a cart, like a pit pony!

“I’ve never told anyone any of this - except for the last three therapists I tried. This feeling of being a pony - it’s not going away. It’s never gonna go away. I don’t want it to. I want to give into it, to embrace it more - even if it’s only for a little while.” She took a deep breath - time to make the big sales pitch. “And I heard that one of your specialities, for certain patients, is hypnotherapy. I’ve read reviews online from people who say you’re an expert and you’ve really helped them. So, I was just hoping that, maybe... you could make me forget that I’m human, and just fully enter the mindset of a pony. Believe I am one, fully and completely, even if it’s just for, like, the space of an hour-long session with you.”

Eliza had remained sitting in her chair the entire time Cassady had been talking, taking occasional notes, but mostly staring at her patient, listening intently. Now her eyes narrowed, as if she was unnerved - or even offended - by Cassady’s suggestion.

“I mean, I - I know it’s unorth-unorthodox,” Cassady stammered, “bu-but I think it would really, really help me... I’ve had this animal side locked up in me for basically my whole life, and I just wanna let it out every so often, and it would really help if I could completely forget about being human whi-while I’m doing it... It’d be, y’know, therapeutic.” She wondered if she should’ve put quite so much emphasis on the word ‘therapeutic’. It felt like she was not so much hammering the point home, as firing it home from a rocket launcher.

She chewed her lip, wishing she had a pencil she could bite instead. “So, uh... what d’you think, Doc? Eliza, I mean?”

There was a long pause, during which the therapist studied the Senator’s daughter intently. At last Eliza spoke, in a slow, measured tone, as if she was thinking very hard about every word.

“This may come as a surprise, Cassady, but you aren’t the first patient I’ve had who’s been experiencing feelings like those you’ve described.”

Cassady blinked in astonishment, reflexively tossing her hair a little. “I - I’m not?”

Eliza smiled warmly. “No, you’re not. In fact, I think you must be the... thirteenth? From memory, I think you are... While I don’t want to be too quick to diagnose, I feel fairly safe giving you my initial opinion. I think you have species dysphoria.”

“Species dysphoria,” Cassady repeated slowly, turning the words over in her mind. “I’ve heard of gender dysphoria...”

“Yes - where a person feels that their gender does not match the one they were assigned at birth. Gender dysphoria is, thankfully, far less stigmatised than it once was, and it’s widely known about. Species dysphoria is much more rare - I know I told you that you’re my thirteenth such patient, which does sound like a lot, but I’ve been a practicing therapist for almost ten years now, and I’ve treated a great many patients in that time.”

“So I’m an endangered breed, but not extinct?” Cassady joked weakly.

Eliza chuckled. “I wouldn’t put it quite like that - it sounds like you’re being hunted! Which, as far as I can tell, you aren’t! So, to be clear, species dysphoria is where a person believes they were not meant to be born human - they feel like they should have been born an animal. A cat, a dog, a bird - or, in your case, a pony. You’re actually my second pony, to be honest, though I can’t tell you much more about the first without breaching doctor-patient confidentiality...”

Cassady let out a long slow breath, processing this information. “Wow... Species dysphoria, huh? That makes so much sense!”

“As I said, it is just a preliminary diagnosis,” Eliza reminded her.

“But it fits! It does feel like I’m in the wrong body - like I’m the wrong species! A pony trapped in a human body...” She leaned forward. “So, what do we do about it? How did you treat your other, uh, dysphoric patients? Um, is ‘dysphoric’ the right word?”

“It is. Although, some species dysphoric people like to use the term ‘otherkin’ to describe themselves.”

“Ooh.” Cassady grinned. “‘Otherkin’ - that sounds cool. I like that - makes me sound like a magical creature!”

Eliza laughed. “Well, ‘otherkin’ is rather an umbrella term, to be honest - it encompasses those with species dysphoria as well as those who identify as mythical beings, fictional characters, or even forms of weather. But that’s not relevant to you.”

“Maybe not. Sounds cool though, you’ll have to tell me about it some time!”

“Anyway, to answer your question - I have used hypnosis in the past to treat a large percentage of my patients. I usually don’t resort to it unless absolutely necessary, mostly because it’s viewed as unconventional. I’ve worked hard to study all aspects of psychology so I have as many therapeutic tools at my disposal as possible. But otherkin don’t tend to respond well to conventional methods of treatment, so I’ve used hypnosis on all twelve of my other patients. Seven of them - including the first pony - asked me to suppress their animal characteristics so they could live human lives.”

Cassady raised her eyebrows. “Did that work?”

Eliza smiled. “I’m pleased to say they were an unmitigated success. Or as successful as they could be, considering the occasional unpredictability of hypnosis. A few of them have had to come back to me to be hypnotised again when their animal behaviour started to resurface, but other than that, they’ve been able to adjust and move forward in their human lives, much more stable and content than they were before.”

Cassady considered this. It sounded an awful lot like hypnosis could be the cure for her pony side. But she didn’t want a cure. She came here with a single goal - to let go of her humanity, temporarily, and fully become a pony for a short time. Would Eliza be willing to do this, considering that she’d ‘cured’ her previous otherkin patients?

Then she remembered to do basic mathematics.

“I’m the thirteenth otherkin who’s come to you,” she said slowly. “You said seven of them got you to cure them... What about the other five?”

“I was wondering when you’d ask me that. Would you excuse me for just one moment?”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Eliza got up from her seat and went over to her office door, opening it and stepping outside. She was gone for no more than ten seconds before she came back in, seeming more hurried than before - her perfect composure slipping a little at long last. Closing and locking the door again, she crossed back to the chair and sat down, straightening her clothes.

“Sorry,” she sighed. “I just wanted to check there was no-one outside. We’ve got plenty of time until my next appointment, but one of my colleagues might have been hovering.” She leaned forwards, wearing a conspiratorial expression, and spoke in a low voice. “I’m about to tell you something about myself, and it isn’t something my peers would consider... professional.”

Cassady frowned. “Um, OK. I mean, there’s no reason doctor-patient confidentiality can’t work both ways, right?”

“Well, that’s not necessarily true, but nonetheless I would appreciate your discretion - not that I am trying to, or would ever try to, pressure you into doing something that would make you uncomfortable, like keeping a secret for me,” she said hastily. “There is a degree of risk for me here, I’ll admit. But you’ve shown a great amount of trust by confiding in me today, and I want to do the same for you - particularly since my secret could benefit you. Just as it benefited my other five otherkin patients.”

Cassady was all ears.

“I run a... well, I call it a private mental health and care clinic,” Eliza began, seeming on edge for the first time as she thought carefully about every word she said. “And in a way, it is. But we - my husband and I - call it ‘the Farm’.”

Cassady caught her breath. “The... Farm?” For some reason, the very word ‘farm’ sent a quiver through her.

“Yes. In fact, it is a real farm - albeit a disused one. My husband and I have a considerable amount of money ourselves, so we bought the place and repurposed it as a clinic to take care of the otherkin. On a long term basis.” Eliza’s face was earnest, her voice breathy. “You were quite right, Cassady - I can hypnotise you to become a full pony. At least, I expect I can - I’ve never failed yet. I can do it temporarily, in hour-long sessions with you, as you suggested.

“Or... I can do it permanently. I can give you the opportunity to live as you wish to - as a pony.” The doctor spoke hurriedly now, as if afraid her patient would run away in horror. “You’d receive the very best of care - I will do anything and everything to accommodate your needs and desires, to ensure you’re safe and healthy, and that you live in the environment best suited to you. In fact, ever since I met my first pony otherkin, I’ve had plans in mind in case another came along and wished to live on the Farm.

“If you chose to live there, we’d set everything up to best emulate the habitat and lifestyle of a real pony. Obviously we can’t be 100% accurate - regardless of your psyche, you’ll still have a human body, and there’s nothing we can do to change that. We’d have to take measures and precautions for your human body’s wellbeing even as we satisfy your pony mind. You can live in a stable, and sleep on a bed of hay - with blankets and hot water bottles, to keep you warm at night. You can have the daily routine of a pony, galloping about the Farm - which is very spacious - or even pulling a cart, if you want! We could even try and find some way for a human being to, uh... ride you.” She made a brief, choking laugh at her words, and added quickly, “In the jockey sense, obviously! I’m sure it could be done, though it would require some thought...”

Cassady had sat and listened to all of this, mouth agape at first in astonishment. Now she straightened in her seat, jaw set with determination. Her eyes shined.

“Sign me up,” she said firmly.

“Well, OK, hold on,” Eliza cautioned. “I had a feeling you would say that, to be perfectly honest. But I want to make sure you think this through carefully...”

“I came here thinking there was a one-in-a-million chance you’d hypnotise me to be a pony for an hour, every now and then. Now you’re telling me that you can make me a pony for good, and that there’s a place you can take me where I can be who I really am 24-7? I don’t need to think this through - I’m in!”

It seemed to Cassady that Eliza was trying to suppress laughter, though she was sure it wasn’t at her expense - she simply seemed amused by Cassady’s eagerness. “I completely understand,” the therapist assured her. “I’m certain that if you wanted to come and live on my Farm right now, you would.”

“Heck yeah!”

This time Eliza couldn’t contain her chuckle. “Nonetheless, I’d strongly advise you to take some time and consider your choice. You would be leaving your human life behind, so you need to be certain that you really want this...”

Cassady gave a little snort of laughter and flicked her hair again. “Hey, I’m not all that attached to my human life. I have basically no friends, except a couple of people I’ve known since childhood - who just like being close to me because my family’s rich. I don’t get along with my parents. And I have nothing to do with my life anyway - I’m just a bored rich girl living off her family money. And I don’t much like that about myself. But I was a shitty student and I have no qualifications, so I can’t go and get a job, even just to relieve the boredom. My life is empty. So why not ditch it and be a pony? It’s what I’ve always wanted, and now I finally have a chance to do it!”

She felt like she was pleading now. She imagined she sounded quite desperate, but she didn’t really care. Everything she’d ever desired was within reach - the only obstacle was Eliza’s overabiding caution.

“Nonetheless, if you are certain, there will be loose ends to tie up,” Eliza said firmly. Then she smiled. “But we can discuss those later. In the meantime, we should make certain that this is actually a viable option for you. And there’s only one way to do that...”

As Cassady watched, Eliza stood up and crossed to a mantelpiece on the wall of the office, from which she picked up a gold pocket watch. Turning, she let the watch dangle from its chain, and it glinted in the sunlight.

“Are you ready to try hypnosis, Cassady?”

Cassady whinnied with excitement.