This all started when I got my hairless white ass run over.

No, wait, come back! Where are you going?

Let me back up and explain a little. My brother Steve accidentally hitting me with Dad’s car only left a bruise, that’s not how I wound up in Equestria – but my jerk brother is technically the reason for it.

Just for the record, try using the words ‘my ass hurts’ around a family that makes a joke out of everything.

They only laughed harder when I tried telling them it was because of Steve.

Har freakin’ har.

So, horribly terrifying incestuous joke-implications aside, my name is Julius, because my parents hated me. Apparently, that is a guy’s name, which was news to me. For short, everybody calls me Julie.

And I hate them for it.

A lot.

Although nobody’s called me Julie since I got here – hang on, I’m getting distracted again. Starting at the beginning…

So, after Steve-O decided that his latest prank was worthy of matching the wiles of Loki, I did what any other seventeen year old would do in that situation.

Remain calm, carefully assess the situation, find something for my bruise and pffffffffft, nah, I totally started throwing rocks at the car.

Dad’s car.

Dad’s shiny new convertible, the one that Steve was supposed to have taken out for groceries but instead was burning gas around the neighborhood because he thought it made him look cool.

“Jackass!” I shouted, hurling another bit of gravel from the driveway. “You almost killed me!”

“Almost ain’t quite there, munchkin!” Steve cackled from the other side of the car, where he was ducking continuously to avoid being beaned in the head. A bob of brown hair popped up and down, which I continued to try to hit with every angry throw. He was lucky that he didn’t have to wear glasses like I did, because the glinting in the sunlight probably would have just made him a little easier to track.

As it turns out, not only are rocks and glass mortal enemies, but I’m a frickin’ retard.

I had another rock in my hand when I heard the snap of the glass, the spider web of cracks spiraling out from the center of the windshield.

“… Oh, crap,” my older brother breathed. “Now look at what you did.”

“Me?!” I blurted, dropping the gravel. “I-I don’t – that’s – you…!”

“Nope,” Steve stood suddenly, holding his palms up and walking away from the car. “I wasn’t throwing rocks.”

Seeing that I was on the verge of pulling my own curly brown hair out from panic at what Dad was going to do when he saw what happened to his ‘baby’, Steve actually behaved like an older brother.

And by that, I mean he went straight for the antagonistic route trying to make me feel worse.

Did I mention that my brother and I don’t get along?

“Ooh, he is gonna rip you a new one,” Steve clapped his hands together with a malicious grin. “When he sees just what you did –”

I never claimed to be a very smart guy. Heck, most of my grades were failing anyway, if that’s any indication. Seriously, this is the kind of thing that should have happened to somebody with a brain like Einstein, who knows how to handle their problems.

I was talking about the Equestria thing, for reference. At the current point in time, Dad’s car is the furthest thing from my mind. Although, at that point in time, I was pretty damned freaked out.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man!” I pulled at my hair, dancing like a five year old back and forth. “Dad is going to freakin’ kill me!”

“Dead man walkin’, Julie,” Steve tutted with a smirk. “Dead man walkin’.”

“Ste~ve,” we froze when we heard Dad’s cautious voice echoing from the porch. “What did you do this time?”

“It wasn’t me this time!” he replied cheerfully, and even though I was busy trying to hide on the opposite side of the car (oh god I left scratches on it from the rocks stupid stupid stupid!) I could almost see the disbelief on Dad’s face.

I was a dead man; forget worrying about making it into a college, they were never going to find my body.

“Psst.”

I lurched, not daring to show my head, even though I could hear my brother and dad. Peering in shock and resisting the urge to lurch away, I spotted a large pair of luminescent, misshapen golden eyes hidden just underneath the car. At first, I thought that a raccoon or something had snuck underneath it; and I’m sure my mouth was opening and closing a lot, even though nothing came out.

It could be because the ‘raccoon’ was talking to me.

“Say, you seem to be in a bit of a pickle,” the shadowy figure said thoughtfully, and I could nearly hear the grin in the voice. It was a deep, rustling voice, and reminded me of rotting leaves, for some reason.

“… What?”

“They always say that,” the figure chortled, the golden eyes pinching meanly in the shade. I couldn’t quite make out the rest of the figure, though the eyes seemed to glow with a light all of their own.

Did I mention that I’m not very brave, either?

I probably would have freaked out (well, I was already having a heart attack, but I would have been more noticeably in shock with shouting and running) were it not for the… thing talking to me constantly, and I almost had to shake my head to really pay attention. I could hear Steve and Dad drawing closer, their hurried footsteps crunching across the lawn.

“Say, I’ve got a problem of my own,” the voice said leisurely. “Looks like you’ve got a problem. What do you say we help each other out – I’ll take care of your problem, and you take care of mine. Deal?”

Seriously, I was too damned flabbergasted to even speak. I was kind of surprised in myself that I managed to find the willpower to dimly shake my head just as Dad rounded the side of the car.

I never saw him do that, though.

By that point, I was already long gone.

Anybody that’s ever woken up with a hangover knows that awful, dry cotton mouth that tends to come with the blaring head-pains from hell. I’ve got to admit, I was seriously put off alcohol the first time I managed to get my hands on some at last year’s Christmas party and wound up with the worst (and technically only) hangover of my life.

This felt a lot like that moment, sans barfing.

I sat up blearily – which, by the way, bad idea. If anything, allow me to lead by bad example. Don’t just jolt up as soon as you wake up, because then I really wanted to hurl. By clenching my eyes closed and leaning with my head against the blankets, by some miracle I somehow managed to avoid emptying the contents of my stomach.

And that’s when it hit me that I was in bed, although at what time of night, I couldn’t tell.

I remembered seeing a flashing pair of golden globes (that couldn’t possibly match the golden globes of Miss America, rawr!) and then… nothing.

The headache didn’t start to go away, no matter how much I wished it would. Then again, I wasn’t really worried about the headache so much as I was about not being in my own room when I woke up.

I kind of stared around like an idiot for a couple of moments, just trying to take it all in.

I was in some kind of enormous, plush four poster canopy bed with pink satin sheets and velvet cushions.

Pink. Not my color of choice.

It was a pretty large and opulent bedroom, with all sorts of stands with small instruments or works of art on them, decorated pots, a ginormous mahogany writing desk – it even had its own fireplace, for crying out loud.

And that’s when I started making mistakes.

A lot of mistakes, actually. Where to begin…

Well, the first mistake was probably trying to move my glasses. The glasses that weren’t there.

With my fingers. The fingers that weren’t there.

My second mistake was not calming down and trying to approach the situation in a logical manner; that was always Mom’s thing, be logical about it. That kind of stuck with me.

Obviously not very well, because the first thing I did when discovering the hooves attached to my arms was scream like a little girl.

Actually, it was a much more effeminate scream than usual, but deeper than a little girl’s. I swear, I had a fully grown woman’s voice.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god!” I waved the hooves back and forth in front of myself in horror, desperately trying to clench hands that just didn’t exist anymore. Every few seconds, I could have sworn that I felt my fingers; like they were still there, but I just wasn’t looking at them or couldn’t feel them properly. Over and over again (while heavily hyperventilating) I struggled to get my hands to work properly, to find my fingers beneath the soft white fur.

And then I made my third mistake.

See, instead of doing anything that made frickin’ sense, I only got myself even more wound up by desperately checking the rest of my body.

As it turns out, I no longer had a hairless white ass. I had a very, very hairy white ass.

With a tattoo of a sun on it.

And wings.

And hooves, and a multicolored tail –

“Sweet Christ on a pogo stick!” I shrieked in a voice that wasn’t mine, toppling out of the bed.

“Tia?” I heard another feminine voice just outside the door as I strained to get to my… feet? Hooves? “Sister, are you well?”

And that’s when I made another mistake.

As a guy, I’m contractually obligated to ensure that Julius Junior is in optimal condition, twenty-four seven.

Julius Junior must have gone the same way as my fingers.

I made the mistake of checking between my legs.

Luna stood nervously outside the door to her sister’s bedroom, ready to rap on the door again. Celestia was supposed to have been up a quarter of an hour ago, and it wasn’t like her to sleep in late.

One of her bat pony guards accompanied her, his halberd at his side shining in the moonlight.

Before Luna had the chance to knock worriedly again, her sister’s bedroom double doors burst open with a bang! and slammed against the walls. Celestia barreled out of the room past them, screaming in terror.

“SOMEBODY HELP, I’VE BEEN CURSED WITH HORSE VAGINA!”

Not missing a beat, Luna’s guard said “What, is it that time of the month again, already?”

The resounding clop of Luna’s hoof against his head echoed loudly through the empty hall.

“Ouch! What, what’d I say?”