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1 - How to Name Your Magical Horse2,178 words
2 - Walk Like an Equestrian3,084 words
3 - Talkin' 'bout My Generosity2,411 words
4 - The Most Foul, Cruel and Bad-Tempered Rodent You Ever Set Eyes On2,569 words
5 - Ms. Pie's Wild Ride1,832 words
6 - It's a Kind of Magic2,901 words
7 - Love and Tolerance 1013,379 words
8 - Confess, Princess2,206 words
9 - Lifestyles of the Rich and the Magical3,573 words
10 - I'm Yellin' Timberwolf2,341 words
11 - Spooky Scary Equestrians4,621 words
12 - Winter's Coming3,697 words
13 - Keep on Buckin'3,150 words
14 - Decked in the Halls2,643 words
15 - Fairytale of Manehattan3,575 words
16 - Play Ball3,251 words
17 - Retail Therapy3,478 words
18 - A Hearth's Warming Mystery4,761 words
19 - Paid In Exposure4,410 words
20 - The Reason for the Season4,041 words
21 - Winter's Going3,656 words
22 - That's Amore4,749 words
23 - Secrets of a Ponyville [REDACTED]1,757 words
24 - Castle of Illusions5,527 words

1 - How to Name Your Magical Horse

The first thing I took note of was a cool, gentle breeze brushing one side of my body. The other was the smell of fresh, healthy grass. Likely just been cut. The other side of my body is laying against the ground.

Going by that very thin knowledge, I came to the conclusion that I’d fallen asleep in a field last night.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

I managed to force my eyes open, and all I get is a green blur. Yep, that was definitely grass.

Very… very green grass.

My eyes managed to adjust, and I attempted moving my limbs. I felt some strength in the arm and leg facing the sky, but moving them proved to be a challenge. They felt like lead weights had been tied onto them, and I almost felt a sweat coming on. The shear strain it was taking to just get up was so much that, out of nowhere, a splitting migraine decided to say hello. I winced and let my limbs flop back down.

The arm and leg I had pinned to the ground somehow had the strength to roll me onto my back, and so until my strength returned, or until someone found me and either offered to take me home or robbed me, I would just cloudgaze.

At least it was a nice day. The sun was out, and the sky was patched with puffy white clouds, some of them sporting stylish curves and swirls.

They reminded me of soft serve ice cream. Y’know, the swirly stuff you’d get out of the machine?

And all I could think was, Damn, now I want ice cream.

I took a deep breath through my nose, smiling as the cool, fresh air filled my sinuses and cooled my lungs. My exhale came in the form of a contented sigh. Birds chirped and warbled their songs in the treetop above my head.

This was the most pleasant hangover I’d ever had in my life.

And because karma seemed to think I’d slept with its significant other last night, cue another round of head pain. I winced again, but this time I had enough strength in my arm to put my hand to my head.

Clop

...the hell was that?

I tapped my temple again.

Clop, clop

Blinking with confusion, I moved my hand in front of my face.

And after about ten to twenty seconds of staring, all I could muster was a whisper of “Where the hell are my fingers?!”

I turned my wrists around, but every which way I looked at them, they were a pair of horse’s hooves! Strangely tinted a shade of red. Burgundy, maybe? Or maroon?

And then I realised the colour of my new equine appendages wasn’t as important as the fact that I had equine appendages at all.

My heart racing and my breath quickening, I rolled around on the grass to get a better angle of view for my body. Just as I’d feared, my feet had been replaced with a pair of matching hooves. My backside sported a short, prickly black tail which flicked and lashed as panic made itself at home inside me and picked out a room with a nice view at the front of my brain.

After about five minutes of screaming and flopping around like a fish having a stroke, I collapsed back on my side, my chest heaving as I gasped to catch my breath. Finding out you’ve been turned into a horse really takes it out of you.

“Uh, ‘scuze me?” A woman’s voice muttered from behind me. “Y’alright there, buddy?”

Since I was too tired and running a bit low on panic, I just used a hoof—good God, I have hooves—to kickstart a roll onto my other side. I glanced up and saw another horse, this one orange with a blonde head of hair tied into a ponytail over her shoulder. I assumed this was where the voice came from - if I could turn into a horse, I was willing to believe they could talk.

“...a pony with a ponytail.” I chuckled dazedly, managing to find at least some humour in my situation.

The orange horse tilted her head. “Um… y’all need a hoof up?” She held out one of her legs, and I just stared at it for a few moments before lifting my own. She wrapped her wrist around mine and gripped tight.

Or was that an ankle?

“Alrighty, up ya get,” she huffed, backing up and pulling me up with her.

And this was where I made even more of an ass of myself, and by extension, offended any possible donkeys living in wherever the hell I was. By that girl’s accent, I assumed I ended somewhere in the saturated, magical south.

I clumsily adjusted by legs - or, well, my hind legs now - so I could get in a standing position once I was up. I tried to stay upright, as I was used to standing, but equine anatomy insisted I flail my front hooves and faceplant the grass. Spitting out a few bright green blades, I put my front hooves on the ground and pushed up, getting eye-level with the girl horse.

I was stood on all fours, like a proper stallion. It felt incredibly degrading and silly, but at the same time, strangely natural. I was perfectly balanced on every side.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, then moved my front leg to take a step forward. Next thing I knew, I was hobbling a few feet and then I tripped over my hooves, eating another mouthful of grass and dirt.

At least I was getting my greens for the day.

The horse trotted over and helped me up once again. “Y’all been hittin’ the cider last night, sugarcube?”

“Oh, you have no idea,” I mumbled, rubbing my hoof against my temple. The lack of fingers wasn’t going to not feel weird for a long time.

She chuckled and tipped her brown cowboy hat. She’s really selling the ‘southern belle’ look for me. All she needs are some short shorts and a flannel shirt.
“Name’s Applejack,” she said.

I blinked and cocked an eyebrow. Applejack? This horse is named after a drink? Now I’m convinced this is some bad trip. Someone did spike my drink last night.

Though, while I was in this apparent high, I thought I may as well go along with it. “Nice to meet you… would you have any idea how I got all the way to Tennessee?”

“Ten of what-now?” The horse furrowed her brow in confusion.

“Well, I just assumed, by your accent…?”

“Ah don’t have a field mouse’s block’a cheese what yer talkin’ about, sugarcube.”

What.

“Nevermind… could you at least tell me where I am?”

“Yer just outside Sweet Apple Acres,” she explained, and pointed a hoof into the distance, “yer lucky Ah caught ya, somepony else might’a mistaken ya fer a fella just runnin’ outta the loony bin or somethin’.”

I followed her hoof, and sure enough, we were standing in a field just off a dirt path leading to a farm. A big red barn and a nice farmhouse stood tall in the property, and a huge orchard of trees with shiny red apples covered the horizon beyond them.

...hang on. Did she really just say somepony?

And that’s when something from real life came and kicked me right in the realisation. When I wasn’t in class, or out getting blitzed with friends, I was on the internet. In my room, on my phone, whatever. But nearly everywhere I went, stuff related to My Little Pony would always show itself in some form. Apparently, that reboot from a few years back was such a hit that even grown men were getting into it.

I never got around to trying it out, and at this point, when I was staring at one of those ponies who was starting to become more familiar looking now that I had remembered, I began to wish that I had.

Then, I did the only reasonable thing I could think of. I socked myself across the jaw and yelled, “Wake up!”

I was still looking at Applejack, who looked just as bewildered as she did spooked.

A few more attempts left me with a numb hoof, a sore jaw, and the beginning of an epiphany.

It was starting to look like that, somehow, defying all laws of science, space and logic like a smooth criminal, I had been tossed into the technicolour world of My Little Pony.

I began to wonder if kids were watching me punch myself in the face and ask their parents why the silly hungover pony was punching himself in the face. The image make me snort with amusement.

“Uh… y’all aren’t runnin’ from the crazy house, right?” Applejack asked slowly, cocking an eyebrow and looking ready to make a dash for the farm.

“N-no!” I yelped. “I mean, yes! Wait, no--” I shook my head and took a deep breath to collect my thoughts. Whatever there were of them. “I’m not an asylum escapee, okay? I’m just kinda… new to the area.”

“Ah thought so, never seen ya ‘round here before. Oh, Ah never caught yer name.”

“My name? Oh, it’s--” I caught myself, and began to think.

If I remembered rightly, this pony world’s inhabitants use silly kiddy names or mystical fantasy names. I mean, I couldn’t exactly go up to another pony and go ‘Hello Twinkleface, my name is Greg’.

Needed to fit in as best I can, despite my inability to walk in a straight line.

But, nothing kiddy or mystical was coming to me. Applejack would have to help me out on this one.

“I… don’t remember.”

The orange pony blinked. “Y’all don’t remember yer name? Y’all must’a hit yer head pretty hard, sugarcube.”

Why does she keep calling me that? I hope that’s just a thing she does, because I am not having my pony name be Sugarcube. I might be in a super happy cutesy world full of talking miniature horses, but I’m still entitled to my masculinity, dammit.

“Well, wouldn’t feel right callin’ ya just ‘Stranger’,” Applejack went on, “how about we give ya a name till ya figure out what yer real one is?”

That worked for me. I gave her a nod and a grateful smile. “Thanks, that’d be great.”

She began a slow walk to my side, and circled around me. My tail flicked self-consciously. I never really liked being stared at.

She rubbed a hoof on her chin. “Well, if Ah had to guess by yer cutie mark there, Ah’d wager yer name would be Sharp Sight.”

...my what mark?

I turned my head to take a look at myself, and I blinked as I saw something I had - and still have - no idea how I missed.

“...I have a magnifying glass on my butt.” I looked at Applejack, eyes dilated. “Why do I have a magnifying glass on my butt?”

Applejack just looked concerned now. “Well, that’s yer cutie mark, sugarcube. Tells ya what yer good at. Ah figured yer good at findin’ stuff, so y’all got a sharp sight. Get it?”

“Right… okay,” I muttered, going back to look at this… ugh, cutie mark. Could they not have come up with a better term? Like ‘magical talent butt stamp’?
I turned back to face the girl pony, and I noticed that she too had a mark. A trio of red apples.

“So, what?” I asked. “You’re… good at apples?”

“Yer darn tootin’,” she grinned, crossing one leg over the other, “harvestin’ apples, buckin’ apples trees, deliverin’ apples, cookin’ with apples, y’all name it. If it’s apples, bet yer bottom bit Ah can do it.”

I really hoped she said ‘bucking apple trees’.

“That explains the trees,” I muttered, “so, you own the place?”

“Granny Smith does, and Big Mac, Applebloom an’ Ah help out with the chores and deliveries. Oh, speakin’ of, Ah better mosey back over. Y’all need anythin’ before ya go on yer way?”

I had only one question in mind. It wasn’t a dignifying one either.

“Could you… show me how to walk?”

No words can capture the look Applejack fixed me with. “Beg yer pardon?”

“Uh, amnesia’s a cruel mistress,” I lied, grinning nervously, “take a bump to the head, suddenly you forget who you are and how your legs work, y’know?”

The cowgirl pony - cowpony…? - let out a soft sigh. “Never heard’a somepony who don’t know t’walk. Ah hope yer a fast learner, sugarcube.”

I sighed and stared down at my opponents for this training exercise. “So do I, Applejack. So do I.”

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Born-From-Black-Lightnin

Born-From-Black-Lightnin #1 · Jul 23rd, 2016 · 2 · ·

Hmm this seems to be interesting. I'll put this into my tracking tab for now. This like a lot of other stories I've read has potential. I await to see what you do with said potential.
Seems good so far.

-BFBL

My Life as a Post-Adolescent Pony - Unicorncob

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