I trudged out of the bathroom. I could deal with black hair – even if it did seem longer than before – but fangs? Red eyes? I couldn't go to work like this. I ignored Luke as he ran past me, intent on fixing his hair as soon as he could, and sat back down on the couch with a flop. I considered calling my boss and telling him I was sick, but it was too late at night for that. I was just about to watch more episodes, but... I just didn't care. Even though I knew that watching some MLP would always cheer me up and give me plenty of energy – seriously, it was like sugar in video form – I just didn't feel like watching anything. Or doing anything. I... I needed a nap. Nap is good.
I sighed and pulled myself back up off the couch, feeling like it was a pointless waste of time to sit down in the first place, and trudged down the hall... But something didn't feel right. I looked down at myself, thinking I had grown taller, but...
“Why are you doing that, foot?” I asked, as if it could answer. It didn't, of course – it was just a foot – but it seemed unwilling to obey me when I 'told' it to lay flat, rather than stand up as if they were digitigrade rather than plantigrade. I had to concentrate just to get them to lay flat on the ground normally, and even then that didn't feel natural. “Whoever did this is gonna pay,” I grumbled, walking into my room and climbing into bed without even undressing. I just needed sleep... Sleep made everything better, and tomorrow everything would be back to normal, and everything would be right and orderly and-
“AAAAHHHHH! FUCKING SHITMONKEY COCKFACE!”
I sat bolt upright, heart pounding as I heard thumping in the bathroom. “LUKE!” I yelled, “What happened? Are you alright?!”
I climbed awkwardly out of bed, legs feeling stiff and uncooperative as I made my way through my dark room by memory, and bust into the hallway.
“LUKE!” I yelled again, hobbling to the door and pounding on it. There was still no answer. “If you're hurt, I'm gonna have to bust the door down!” I grimaced, not liking the idea of seeing him buck-naked, but... he was my brother, and if he was hurt I'd have to help him, even if it scarred me for life.
Fortunately for both of us, he finally spoke up. “NO!” he shouted, sounding panicked. I heard him gasp for breath, he said, more calmly, “No. D-don't come in! I'm... I'm fine... Sorta...”
I raised by eyebrow, even though he couldn't see it.“Sorta?” I ask, confused. “How can you be 'sorta' fine?!”
“Just lemme think, dammit!” he shouted.
“Fine, alright, geeze,” I grumbled. “I hope you're happy, I was just about to sleep!”
I walked back to the living room and sat down on the couch – there was no way I could get back to sleep after that special brand of idiocy. What was he playing at, nearly giving me a heart attack and then refusing to answer my perfectly reasonable question? Damn disrespectful... Still fuming, I grabbed the remote and punched the buttons, turning on My Little Pony. “Stupid idiot brother, waking me up and being an ass,” I muttered under my breath while the video loaded.
It wasn't long before I had calmed down – it was hard to stay mad when one of the show's songs started playing. At first I just smiled and bobbed my head along to the music, my anger melting away... 'Should have done this before going to bed,' I thought to myself with a small giggle, 'this is MUCH better than moping...' Pretty soon I was even humming along with it, bouncing my feet to the beat. Even my tail got in on the action, swishing from side to side as I sang softly, thumping against the couch-
Wait.
What?
No. No, that's not right. One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn't belong...
I froze, confused. Something didn't feel right... My feet still felt weird, yeah, but that wasn't it... My legs felt stiff, yeah, but they were already starting to act 'off'... Maybe there was something wrong with my tail?
Tail.
TAIL?!
“YAAAAHHHH!” I shrieked, jumping up off the couch and running in circles as I tried to get away to my new hindquarter accessory. “SHIT SHIT SHIT!”
I would have probably continued along this same vein if my brother hadn't stepped out of the bathroom, fully clothed and hair dyed to a more natural color, looking like he'd just been sentenced to death. “Y-you too?” he asked, his voice unusually high.
I forced myself to stop, my eye twitching as I took deep breaths to contain my nearly overwhelming panic. “Me too, what? Do you...” I stopped as I saw something twitch behind him... something that looked like it was covered in long blue hair... Something that just didn't belong there...
“Rum. Now” I growled hoarsely.
“Fuck that. Vodka.”
The Man Code was clear; when fucked up shit happens and you can't handle it, and need to have a heart-to-heart talk, you drank copious amounts of hard liquor so you could actually TALK about it, and hopefully not remember it the next day. I was looking forward to the second part the most.
We both walked stiffly to the kitchen in silence, neither of us willing or able to say a word. There was a bit of comfort, at least – if I had been going through this alone, I would have probably had a mental breakdown by then. But he was going through most of the things I was going through, and it was becoming clear that something had happened to both of us.
I felt a twinge of guilt as I pulled the rum down from the liquor cabinet – we never had to be told not to, but we always knew that mom and dad wouldn't approve of having drunkards for sons – but, under the circumstances, I thought getting smashed drunk would be justified.
***
“So,” I mumbled, eying my third glass of rum. It was already half empty.
“So.” Luke had been a bit more creative, and made a sort of vodka/rootbeer float. I had initially shuddered at the thought of that vile combination, but the idea was starting to sound better and better as the late night became early morning. As did the apple pie and ice cream he had next to it. Maybe I should have ate something before downing a full glass of rum...
He giggled, clearly more drunk than I was. “Vampony,” he snickered, his tail swishing behind him.
I sighed, laying my head down on the table. “I swear, I'm gonna hit you if you keep that up...” We had spent a bit of time examining the unnatural growths coming out of our backsides, and we were in agreement; they were indeed pony tails. Neither of us had ever owned a pony, of course, but we both had seen enough on TV to know what they looked like. I had been foolish enough at some point to mention something about the fangs and red eyes making me look like a vampire, and his drink-addled mind apparently thought that mashing the two together was the height of humor.
“Vampony vampony vampony,” he giggled in a singsong voice, tilting his head from side to side as he slouched dangerously. He only stopped his migraine-inducing litany when his teeth clacked against his vodka-beer-float. Not one to turn down a happy accident, he shrugged, lifting it up with his teeth and tilting his head back, and chugged down most of the remainder.
I just groaned at his obstinance – despite my threat, I really didn't feel like getting up until the room decided to stop fooling around stay still. “Ass,” I grumbled, settling for that.
"No, not ass - pony." He giggled at his own joke for full minute, his inebriation making whole situation seem hilarious... before he sat upright, getting the 'deer in the headlights' look. “Dude,” he says, the word barely slurred.
“What,” I moan, not wanting to deal with his drunk bullshit. Who the hell suggested we drink, anyway?!
“Duuuuuuuude,” he snickered, clearly trying to get a rise out of me. I caught on and decided not to encourage him, and instead just glared.
He finally relented with a giggle. “Dude. We gotta look up my cutie mark. But can we call it something else? Because 'cutie mark' sounds faggy,” he says, pushing himself away from the table and walking unsteadily to his room. I noticed he was also walking on the balls of his feet, but decided not to comment on it – he'd find out soon enough. And it'd be more amusing for me that way. I followed him, sighing – I was not a happy drunk. At least, not around him.
He logged onto his laptop and googled “lightning bolt wings cutie mark”. I was about to tell him he's doing it wrong – there are all kinds of cutie mark databases, we would be better of searching that – but the picture results jogged my memory. “Hey,” I said, pointing at one of the pictures, “click that!”
He looked at it curiously and obliged.... and then snickered when it brought up a picture of a pegasus in a Wonderbolt uniform. “So it's a real one, then? That actually came from the show?”
I nodded, looking closely at the picture... It was Soarin. And my brother now had his hair, tail, and cutie marks... The connections were nice, but it didn't get us any closer to figuring out why we had grown tails, among other things. The only conclusion our combined (and inebriated) efforts had come to was that it 'was not a prank, since that would be totally not chill'. Or, at least, that's how he described it.
“That's neat,” I grumbled, “but what's causing it? Are we infected with something? That's all I can think of, as we haven't had any sort of surgery... the tails just appeared, right?”
Luke just ignored me, and started looking up 'black maned red eyed pony'.... but he only found a list of ponies. “Wait, what are you doing?” I asked, confused, before dawned on me. “Wait, you think I'm starting to look like a pony too? But... I don't have any tattoos – err, cutie marks. Crap, we gotta find a better name for those... Stallion Sigils? That sounds badass,” I drunkenly mused as he scrolled, sorting by mane color. “Alright, Stallion Sigils it is – hey, are you listening to me?” I asked, miffed at the lack of response.
He cocked his head, looking at something on the computer. “That... does not look like a nice pony,” he said.
I flicked my eyes to the screen, and raised my eyebrows. “Sombra? I... guess? But I don't have a Cutie- err, Stallion Sigil, and I'm sure he does – ponies get them when they're young, and he's at least a few centuries old."
He shrugs. “I dunno... I don't watch the show, but I'm pretty sure that they don't have ponies with fangs... and look, right there, he looks like he could kill with those,” he said, pointing at the pony's admittedly impressive incisors.
I grumbled, annoyed with him, but he did have a point. I couldn't remember another pony with more than one of those traits, let alone all four. “Whatever. It's biological, and... I dunno, we ate something with a new fungus or bacteria in it?” I frowned as he looked at me as if I was being stupid. “Well I don't know! I'm grasping at straws here! I'd say we should go to the doctor's, but I feel just fine... You know, besides being tipsy.”
He just rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that would work out juuuust fine,” he said, alcohol clearly not inhibiting his sarcasm. “I don't look forward to being quarantined and experimented upon, do you?”
“Fair point,” I grumbled, peeved that he'd thought of that before I had. I gave an immense yawn, too tired to keep pondering things. “Welp, I'm going to bed now. If you have any more disturbing and life-altering transformations, please have them quietly.”
“Ass.”
“Bite me.”
With that, I stumbled to my room, collapsed on my bed, and drifted into a deep, deep sleep.