“Honey,” he said in a voice that sounded exactly like the affected Mid Atlantic accent of Tabitha St. Germaine’s character, “I’m going out to buy some new clothes.”

His wife smiled warmly as she turned to face her short, curvaceous husband. “All right, dear,” she said in a very soft, slightly breathy voice that conveyed care, affect, and gentleness which suited her yellow and pink physique like pastel eggs nestled in beds of spring flowers.

The permanently rosy pink patches on her cheeks deepened slightly as she regarded the tiny yet stunning figure that stood by the entryway. He was decked out in the tight hot pants that accentuated his impossibly compact waistline and sprawling hips, his practical leather handbag, but also the colorful platform shoes and cute T-shirt she’d picked out for him from what was left at the thrift store after the changes started happening three months ago.

“Now that people have mostly settled in,” she continued, her yellow wings stretching up and back involuntarily as she let her eyes rove over her spouse’s petite size and outrageous endowments. “There should be more to choose from.” She almost asked to go with him and help him try out some new looks, where they could be private in the changing booths. It was nearly normal for the transformed couples to make out while clothes shopping, something speculated to be a behavioral side-effect of the ‘Ripple’ that had upended the formerly human world. But she fought her urges to play dressup with her cute, sexy husband and instead convinced herself to remain home and fix their dinner.

“Any requests?” her Rarity-imprinted spouse asked, casting her some bedroom eyes he’d been practicing. Her heart nearly melted, and he could tell it was having the expected effect from the way her wings suddenly stiffened at full span.

“Um, well…” his wife started as she approached with a smile and knelt down, withdrawing a hand from her hoodie pocket. Lifting his chin with a little yellow finger and gazing into her husband’s sparkling eyes, she whispered conspiratorially. “How about something slinky?”

“Hmmm, I think I saw something like that at the open-air market,” her shortened husband said with a glint of recognition. “Well then, I suppose I’ll be back around dinner time,” he said, letting go of his pretend pout and pursing his lips for a good-luck smooch.

His wrists were suddenly gripped in a pair of slender vises and pinned roughly to the door of their apartment, the sudden jarring sending his disproportionately-heavy bust jiggling in its confines before being crushed by a pair even larger. A pink hood of silky strands enveloped his face as yellow lips pressed insistently against his white ones. Without waiting for an invitation, a probing tongue slipped in and caressed his own eagerly for a brief moment before his Flutter-wife withdrew, bubblegum-colored strands slipping free from his horn, a satisfied and smug grin on her beautiful face as she regarded the effect her assertive move had on her altered husband. He took a moment to catch his breath, panting delightfully as his heart hammered away behind the generous flesh obscuring it.

She giggled girlishly as her still masculine-identifying spouse regained his composure. She had been thoroughly enjoying the way his mind had tried to cope with its new, feminine erogenous coding, and she also reveled in the reversal of their relative statures which allowed her to throw him around so easily to make it even more different from what he was used to. She could tell he was also getting a kick from their new situation, or else she wouldn’t be indulging in it.

He adjusted the strap of his handbag and once again asserted his self-control. “Sure you won’t be coming, darling?” he asked with a smile.

She leaned in again and traced the spiraling form of his horn from tip to forehead. “Don’t be late,” she said, followed by planting a more gentle kiss right next to his big, fluffy ear before straightening up and striding back towards the kitchen.