*Chapter one*
I stepped through the doors of my home school, breathing in that fresh new school year air for the last time. Starting as a senior this year at school feels a bit nostalgic. This school and it's teachers, classes, -
"What are you doing here faggot?"
... 'Friends'...
"Fuck you Aaron," I spoke out.
"Oh wow, I'm scared," He said in his usual cold tone. Joyful, but a cold kind of joy. Kind of something you'd hear in a sociopaths voice.
Aaron Ridley is someone I guess to be of middle-eastern descent, though I'm honestly not sure. Wouldn't surprise me if he came charging into the school with home-made explosives though. He's around five foot ten, with shaggy brown hair, and of unknown ethnicity.
"What are you two faggots doing here?"
Behind us, coming in through the school door is James Bokov. Sure, he's a little on the... husky side, but he's also got muscle. He's definitely white, around five eleven, with short brown hair. Honestly, I think he's the only one of three in our group I'm okay with. Hell, he's the only one I could talk to about serious stuff. I consider him as a brother.
"Well, new school year, fresh start, new possibilities, new teachers-"
"Ey b0ss".
Up next was Jason Mire. He came in with his hipster glasses, pudge and all. He's about as pale as a marshmallow, and I think is the only guy in this group I both dislike and respect. He's an asshole if you don't tred carefully around him, but I can't deny he tends to bring up good points in arguments. His black hair is pretty short, and even though he's white, he has some Mexican background. Guess they bred that tomato picking out in exchange for potato picking.
"Hey guys, 'sup?"
Ah, Patrick Banner, the normal one of the group. He's pretty chill, though can get serious when he needs to. I honestly wouldn't expect him to be in the kind of crowd we are, but hey, surprise surprise. He's a skinny white guy, though he still has some muscle, with a light brown hair. If I were to take a stab in the dark, I'd say... five eleven? Most of us in the group are around five ten to five eleven when standing-
"Hey guys!"
... Ohhh... I said standing just a bit too soon... Benjamin Blue, has uhh... cerebral palsy, so I'm not exactly sure of his height, though he's around three and a half feet in the wheel-chair. He's a good kid, really, but I think we make fun of his condition a little too much. Like when I ask him if he could dance or type on a computer. He threatened to do The Cupid Shuffle on my grave when he was done burying me.
And speaking of me, I am Clark Wesley, the verbal... and emotional... furfag punching bag. Compared to these guys, I'm a shit-stain. The fact that they rank me as lowest in the group doesn't do good for my self-esteem, but at the same time I feel a bit good about it in a bittersweet way. Like I had any. But still, it's not like I have many friends. I moved around a bit for the first few years of my life, so I never really built up any good social skills. I honestly prefer to stick to what I know when it comes to people. Most of the people I know either come to me, I meet through existing friends, or were from when I was really young.
Huh, well whaddya know? The whole table's here. Wait, we're missing one. Well, he doesn't really come by often anyway-
"Hello, Wesley, Bokov, Blue, Banner, Ridley, Mire."
Ohshit.jpg, it's him. The one who every time he steps out of bed, the devil yells 'Oh shit, he's awake', the one who could kill anyone, regardless of fame and power, painfully and slowly in the most inhumane way possible and most likely get away with it. Ash McConnell. I know Aaron made it his life goal to get people to kill themselves for a 'better cause' and 'time-shares', but this guy? He scares me. And I'm usually not scared without good reason.
"Alright, I guess everyone's here, let's take a seat at the cafeteria and grab some breakfa-"
Suddenly, a kid in a duster with fingerless gloves and a fedora walks in wielding a gun with... Fluttershy's cutie mark on it? Okay, what the fuck?
He opened fire into the hallway, causing me to duck in reaction. The others followed with the exception of Aaron, who stood there determined looking, though the strangest part was that while he was shooting up the school, people were... laughing?
"Hahahahaha!"
"Lol, what a faggot!"
"Go kill yourself!"
A tear streamed down his face, and in a fury found only in the strongest of Keyboard Warrior class Neckbeards, unleashed a magazine onto the students and teachers.
"Hey, faggot, come here pussy!" Aaron yelled at him with a grin. WAIT, WHAT?!
"Excuse me?!" The hambeast yelled, dropping the gun onto the ground.
"I said you're a faggot! Come on, do it! Kill yourself faggot!"
With unholy, cheetoh-dust covered rage, he drew out a katana.
"That's it bro, you're getting my katana collection!"
"Is anyone else concerned as to what the hell is going on?" I asked out loud.
"Yeah," Patrick said, scrunching his face in irritation "I think the weed my dealer gave me is laced".
"Hidden Leaf Village Ninjitsu!" The lonely fuck yelled, charging at us as electricity and fire flew from his katana. "FOR MY WAIFUUUU!!!"
"OH FUCK!" I screamed like a pussy.
"SHIT!" James yelled, covering his face from the sheer autism.
"B0SS PLEAZE!" Jason pleaded.
"MY BODY IS READY!" Aaron yelled, embracing the sheer autism for chin-chin. For Aaron was a professional anime hunter in disguise, sent to this dimension to cleanse the weeaboos. This was just another Tuesday to him.
Ash looked at the situation with a rare moment of emotion; confusion to be exact. Ben and Patrick both looked on, the former in horror and the latter in anger, thinking strongly about kicking his dealer's ass later. With autistic fury, the japanophile brought his sword down, ringing a bright white light into our eyes. And pain. Oh, I remember so much pain.
* * * * * * *
"Uuugh... fuuuuuck..." I groaned, laying in burning agony. Course, I've always been a pussy.
Rubbing my eyes with my furry paws and yawning through my muzzle, I take a look around the area... furry paws? Muzzle? I look at my hands, though instead I see paws, with orange fur. Confusedly, I pat myself down. While my hoodie stayed with the ride, albeit a tear part way down the chest revealing a fluffy tuft of white fur, I noticed my pants were torn past the knee, leaving a nice breeze against my fur-covered shins. The whole fur thing's gonna take some adjustment. Putting it back, I brush my hand over my head, and feel a pair of ears sticking out from my hood through torn holes. Okay, the fuck?
I look around my general area again, hoping to avoid a distraction. The area seems somewhat dark in feeling, kinda like a spooky forest in a horror story. Shrubbery of the thorny kind surrounds the small, plant-free clearing I'm resting in, while tall, evergreen trees tower up, somehow blocking the sunlight with their piny leaves.
I hear a rustling through the bushes nearby, and panic. I picked a dead branch up off of the ground, and held it like a club, ready to swing.
A... dark blue changeling with brown eyes comes out of the bushes... the fuck... ah hell no. Nononononono, this can't be happening, this is in fanfics only-
"Greetings, faggot, who may you be?" The changeling asked in Aarons voice. Then it dawned on me.
"Ah fuck," I groan, facepalming. "Of all the people I had to be stuck with in a damn forest, it had to be you".
"Feelings mutual. Wouldn't wanna be around you, you autistic piece of shit".
I let my grip around the branch relax a bit. While I hate Aaron, he's a friend of a friend, and that changes the odds of my survival out here. Those odds went from shitty, to coated in cow shit, skunk spray, and left to ferment in the cellar for a week. I'm screwed.
* * * * * * *
Elsewhere, James was having a worse time. While Aaron was used to shifting form from dimension to dimension, and Clark really didn't have much concern for the shit that happened in his life anymore, James was having difficulty adjusting. Being turned in a copper coated unicorn with a black mane wasn't on his to-do list. Conveniently though, Jason came along, in the form of a gryphon. James was panicking, to say the least. though, due to being more adjusted to bipedal walking, it looked more like a flopping fish with fur and hooves.
Jason had, unfortunately been knocked unconscious by the sheer autism that assaulted him. He was not used to such autism, and rarely put up with that kind of bullshit, resulting in his T.K.O..
"Someone help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" James screamed, not caring no-one would hear him in the strange forest he found himself in with Jason. Or so he thought. Two Yaks were watching from afar, in a mix of confusion and humor.
"This is by far, the most interesting thing I have ever seen. The ponies hold themselves so proudly, yet one flounders here like a newborn calf," Rising Winds chuckled, shuffling the sacks of apples around on his back.
"Yes, interesting indeed. Should we help them?" Rolling Stone asked.
"... let's watch for a bit, as a pony friend of mine once put it. I wish to see where this leads".
* * * * * * *
Patrick grumbled, laying down on the forest floor unconscious, twitching his new found wings and forehoof on occasion. Stalking behind the bushes was a hooded figure, whom was carrying an assortment of medicines and plants. The figure poked Patrick with a striped hoof, and no response had been elicited, though he was still breathing fine as obvious from the steady rising and falling from his chest.
"What is this I spy, with my Zebrican eye? A lost, green-coated member of the pegasi. Worry not, my feathered friend, for had I not found you, this would be your end," Zecora mumbled in her rhyming tongue.
Heaving a sigh, the Zebra pushed her muzzle underneath the former human and slid him onto her back.
"Perhaps, after I have detected your ailment, I should ask you questions within your consent, as to why the Everfree is a place you have had your time recently spent".
* * * * * * *
Benjamin was rolling through a rustic town, unsure of what happened. He felt no pain after the flash unlike the others, since he had not been transformed, though he was confused as to what the shit was going on. He passed a sign that said Ponyville, which only added to his confusion even more. The entire town was eerily quiet though, save for a tumbleweed rolling across the street between two alleys.
Again, he was confused to say the least. As he rolled down the street, he heard a trash can behind him crash. He spun around in the chair as fast as his crippled arms delayed reflexes would allow. He saw a shadow dart into the alley, a chrome trash can spilled out into the street. He heard a scuffle behind him, and innocent giggles. When he spun around again, his heart jumped, but then began to melt at the cuteness. If a cripples heart could melt from cuteness, that is. Probably just stop and rupture inside his chest instead, slowly killing him. Aaron would probably leap for joy if that happened.
Three young, impossibly colorful filly ponies were standing there, looking up to him with a grin. The one in the middle, with a yellow coat, red mane, and amber eyes, reached her hoof out to the cripple.
"Hi there... uhh... mister? My names Applebloom, what's yours?"
"I'm... Benjamin! Whaat's goin on?!" Benjamin joyously asked, slowly holding out his shaky hand out to the filly, and shaking her hoof.
"Weeelllll... a lot of the townsfolk hid in their houses. They thought you were some kind of monster, but you seem alright! My name's Sweetie Belle! You are a... mister... right?" Sweetie asked.
"Yep! I'm a guy!" Benjamin stated, proud that at least that didn't go wrong with his birth. Not that it would ever work, but it was there.
"Jeez," The orange one started, rubbing her ear with a hoof. "Why are you yelling?"
Ben looked at the filly amused, rather than insulted.
"It's my condition! I have cerebral palsy! I can't move or talk well, it's why I have a wheelchair! To help me move!"
The three fillies looked at him sadly.
"Oh... sorry..." The orange filly said softly. "I know how it feels".
She gave out a weak flutter of her wings to show, that her wings seemed unusually small and weak for her body, at least that's what Benjamin thought. Benjamin gave a sad nod, and patted the filly on the head.
"Don't worry, us defected people have to stick together!" He remarked.
* * * * * * *
Ash slowly stood up, breathing calmly, taking in his surroundings. Miniature flower hedges, childishly small cobbled paths, and white marble walls about his height stood around him. While he felt it, pain gave him no general agony. He merely felt it. Though he does still recognize it means damage to his body, so he checked his body. While his clothes were missing, he was covered head to toe in grey scales, and noticed a lithe, red spined tail behind him. He felt his head up, and felt flat spines in a somewhat similar shape to his original hair-do, and had ear-holes hidden underneath some of the spines. His claws were sharp, and as he flexed them, he felt... strange. For the second time that day, confusion was on Ash's face.
"Halt dragon! State your business within Canterlot Castle, and explain why you are trespassing on the sun princesses property!" He heard someone yell from behind.
Ash turned around, and saw white and gray unicorns, no bigger than his fist covered in bronze-plated armor. Blankly, Ash opened his new scaly lips.
"Lost. I need directions," Ash admitted.
"...lost?" The gray unicorn asked, befuddled.
"Yes, lost. I was dealing with a terrorist situation when I was suddenly transported against my will. It seems, to be more specific, within your 'Canterlot Castle'. If I may, perhaps I could speak to your princess about my situation?"
"Sooo... no attack?" The guard asked, almost... disappointed?
"None what so ever, unless you wish for it".
The guards looked confused, and huddled up. Whispering was heard among them, and something about a 'Cluster-buck' was heard. Eventually, a head poked out of the huddle, looking up at Ash.
"We'll send a message to the princess. What may your name be dragon?".
"Ash. You may call me Ash".
