Content: Implied TG/TF, implied personality change, mind control, suggestive.

Maybe staring at the old desk long enough would unlock one of the mental boxes and reveal some information that could help. Everything was so familiar, she was sure this used to be her desk. Something about sitting here and seeing the monitor from this angle… no, not this one. She adjusted the piston to raise her view higher. Yes, this was it. This angle, it was seared into her visual cortex. There should be something about the old desk that could resurface more memories if she tried hard enough.

She looked at the keyboard. She was positive the fleeting image of large, brown hands with tiny black curls of hair on the back was something dredged up from memory. But when she lifted her hands to the home row, they were too small. Too shockingly pink. And definitely no curly black hairs. It jarred her out of whatever familiar track she had started to uncover in her mind. Everything that seemed to be surfacing instead faded like a dream upon waking. For a second she even forgot why she was at the old desk.

“Remember anything?” Kaitlin asked.

Pinkie Pie turned and read the concern written across the young woman’s face. She was sorry that she couldn’t say something to help her. Maybe if she looked at the old desk again… there was something familiar about it.

“Um, maybe?” she started. “It seems kind of…”

The sudden buzz of her phone broke her off. She reached into the purse and pulled out her company-issued device, unlocking the screen with a picture of her own face. Mister Barstow had sent her a text! ‘Time for your lunch break, Ms. Pie.’ So sweet and thoughtful of him to remind her!

“Whoopsie! Gotta go!” she giggled, returning the device to her purse and hoisting herself out of the old chair. “Duty calls! Or texts, or something!”

A friendly but insistent hand clasped her arm as she started back towards the office. Kaitlin looked more concerned than ever.

“Please, Den- um, Miss Pie, let’s try again tomorrow, okay? And let’s keep this our little secret? Don’t tell Mr. Barstow about this, okay?”

Pinkie made a zipping gesture over her lips and then turned an imaginary key before pantomiming a casual toss over her shoulder, then winked at her coworker. “Pinkie promise!” she declared giddily. To her surprise, Kaitlin pulled her into a tight, desperate hug and rocked her back and forth. “Whoa, okay! Um, thanks for the hug! If you want, we can go out on the town tonight! Just us girls, how does that sound?” she asked, patting her clingy coworker on the head as she felt the need to cheer her up filling her to bursting. Pinkie knew she’d been devastated by the disappearance of her husband and couldn’t help but want to comfort her. And Kaitlin smelled really nice, too. Very familiar, somehow.

But Mister Barstow couldn’t be kept waiting, so Pinkie released her coworker, gave her a last bracing smile, then stepped peppily towards the elevators.

Each step was bouncy, bouncy, bouncy! She was already feeling better after that somber moment, now her excitement was building up with every jiggle. She liked to be reminded of what she had going for her, and it was a lot! She couldn’t help but grin as she entered the elevator cab and swiped her employee badge to unlock access to the executive suites at the very tippy-top of the office building, so high up she sometimes had to pop her big, fluffy ears on the way up.

Not today, though. So instead she simply hummed a catchy tune and twisted back and forth at her teeny little waist, turning her great big hips and great big bust in different directions. Mister Barstow really liked it when she did that, so she made sure to get in a lot of practice.

She bounced extra heavily when the elevator car came to a stop and the door chimed. Her heels didn’t click against the carpeted flooring of the executive suite. All the offices were soundproofed, as well. These hard-working men enjoyed their privacy. As she sashayed down the hallway towards the double-doors at the end, where the engraved granite plaque bore the name of Elliot Barstow and the title of Chief Executive Officer, she saw all the other secretarial desks were empty except for Applejack’s. Her freckled friend was busy setting up a meeting on the old-fashioned desk phone, but she smiled cheerily up at Pinkie Pie who did likewise. Neither one of them had time to exchange any other pleasantries at the moment.

Using her ID card, she swiped her way past the large doors and made a direct line towards the imposing desk where Mister Barstow sat, watching something on his monitor.

“Ah, Miss Pie! Please come here. Before you go down to lunch, I have something I’d like you to do.”

“Sure, Mister Barstow!” she agreed readily.

“Pink pussywillow, pink pussywillow, pink pussywillow, pink pussywillow, pink pussywillow.”

The sunlight from the glass wall was gone, everything was dark, no sensory information could penetrate as the echoes of the passphrase reverberated inside her calm, quiet skull like a sneeze in a deserted stadium. There was nothing, no sense of time, no sense of self, no sense of position or separation. She was an empty vessel into which his words would pour and out from which would come any response without hesitation or filter.

Pinkie’s eyes fluttered open as a bird passed by the floor-to-ceiling window. Mister Barstow’s chair creaked as he adjusted his position, looking up at her expectantly.

“Ohmigosh, I must have spaced out for a second Mister Barstow!” she said, feeling flustered. “What was it you wanted me to do for you?”

“Go to the head of HR after your lunch break, Miss Pie. You’ll know what to do when you get there. That is all.”

“Yes sir!” she acknowledged. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Yes, please make some room at your desk. I’ve decided to hire a co-secretary for you to ease your workload a bit. I know you’ll get along splendidly with her.”

“Oh boy! Thank you, Mister Barstow!” Pinkie exclaimed, wiggling in place happily. She was already excited to meet her new co-secretary!

“That will be all for now. You may go to lunch.”

“Aye-aye, sir!” she said with an enthusiastic salute before kneeling down and reaching for the buttons on Mister Barstow’s fly.