TF: Unexpected Red 8 (old and bad)

>You climb the stairs again, much in the same way you did before, on all fours. It works just as well as it did the first time.
>You push open the master bedroom door and flop down on the bed, bouncing slightly.
>What are you supposed to do now? You're trapped here in you're house, and in you're body.
>I guess now you just sort of wait around for the inevitable, right? It's going to happen, not much you can do about it.
>And what then? What happens after that? You guess you just do more waiting until somep0ny comes around to see if you're okay and finds a creature that looks and acts nothing like who you used to be, or you starve to death.
>Another option is that you somebody to help you who wont turn you in to any secret research societies.
>You're first choice would obviously be Lizz. You've been aching to see her ever since you woke up this morning. Now though you're not sure it's such a good idea.
>How would she react to learn that her girlfriend is turning; or HAS turned into a pony? Would she freak out? You don't think you would in her place, but you're kind of a biased source, and you don't really trust the answers your mind gives anymore.
>At the very least you suspect it would put a strain on the relationship.
>You smirk at that understatement.
>You don't even want to consider how it would effect your sex life.
>And so of course you start thinking about it.
>You doubt you will ever have sex again.
>And you thought not being able to go to parties or play video games was depressing.
>You suppose technically its possible that Lizz has been a closet horse fucker all this time. That's probably wishful thinking though.
>Wait, wishful thinking? You're hoping that your girlfriend is sexually attracted to ponies now. What the fuck?
>That idea would have been really nasty a couple days ago, now you are actively wishing for it.
>Well that was before you found out that you were going to be a pony. It's not that bad to hope that your lover finds you attractive is it?
It is when you're different species.
>You say that bit out loud, in an attempt to make it stick in your mind.
>Fine, no inter-species sex, but that brings up yet another question.
>If there was another creature like you're going to be, another weird sentient pastel pony.
>Would you even want fuck it?
...
>Nope, no. You're aborting this line of thought entirely. The fact that you even had to think about that question for a moment makes you feel disgusted with yourself.
>You begin poking your temples with your forehooves, repeating "I am not attracted to pastel ponies." in your head like a mantra.
>It isn't working.
Fuck you.
>You swear to no one in particular.
>Got to think about something else.
>You wonder if secret research societies even exist. They probably do. You wouldn't have believed it was true before, but something magical or sufficiently technologically advanced has clearly happened to you.
>What brought this on anyway? If magic is real, it could have been anything. Pony transformation drugs, fairy dust, some enchanted or cursed you accidentally touched. Have you been to any shady antique shops lately?
>If cursed objects exist, you wonder if there is a secret government warehouse somewhere full of them. Like at the end of Raiders of The Lost Ark.
>You entertain yourself by creating imaginary scenarios where you get caught by some shadowy government agency or some crazy mad scientist guy who want to run tests on you, and have to plot escape.
>Or what if this all the work of some sick brony with access to some serious magic or tech? What if he turned you into a pony because he wants to keep you as a pet or slave to all his perverted whims? What a terrible thought.
>And now you're thinking about sex again.
>You try to get it out of your mind, try to think about something, anything else. But nothing works.
>Eventually you decide to just get it over with, and out of your system.
>You sigh and look down at your naked body, then at your hooves. You doubt you could pleasure yourself even if you tried.
>So if you cant masturbate, and you cant have sex anymore, does that mean you'll never have an orgasm again? Ever?
>That really, really sucks.
>You sort of start to panic at that, but then you get an idea.
>Sex toys. You can still use sex toys. It might be more difficult to use them without hands, but you've seen some with suction cups on the bases, so you could just-
>Another problem occurs to you. You don't have any sex toys, you always just relied on your hands so that the real thing would be more satisfying when you managed to get it. So how are you going to get any of these things?
>This brings you round full circle to the original problem. You need somebody to help you. Somebody who wont turn you in, and who will be willing to buy you sex toys.
>You pause for a moment and reconsider things.
>Maybe you had better focus on more practical things for now. You can worry about slaking your lust later.
>Even if it is sort of a problem right now.
>Okay, so you only have three friends that you really trust. Lizz, Zander, and Evan.
>Alexander and Evan are mostly just your gaming and hang out buddies now, but all three of you have known each other and have been best friends since since middle school.
>Lizz is obviously your first and best choice, but being in a relationship with her definitely makes things more difficult. You aren't positive that she wont just run away.
>You don't really want to think too much about that possibility.
>Evan is hyperactive and unreliable. He's a ton of fun to be around, and is unmatched at being entertaining at parties, but you really don't think he would make a good caretaker. Things would just be really strange. You suppose it could work if there is no other choice, but he would definitely be a last resort.
>Zander is complicated. He's smart, probably smarter than you in a lot of ways. He's logical and usually kind, but you can tell he puts on a mask in social situations. You and him had experimented once together in high school. That night stands out as probably one of the greatest regrets of your life. Things were never quite the same after that. You know you can rely on him, and he cares enough about you that he would never do something to harm you. Still, things would be incredibly awkward.
>You ponder the situation, considering how you might go about explaining the situation to each party.
>You could probably contact Evan and Zander through IM without much trouble. They are usually on every night playing games or something.
>Liz isn't much for computers, but you might be able to catch her via email. You remember your phone giving you an alert every time you got a new email.
>If all else fails, you could try living on your own.
>The house is mostly paid for already by your parents, and you have a decent amount of money saved up.
>There is probably some kind of food delivery service that you could take advantage of.
>You might be able to live here by yourself pretty well for a while, maybe even find some job you could do online.
>Eventually though, you're going to have to interact with other people. Someone is going to come check up on you, ask if you're alright, or wonder why they haven't seen you in months. Then the game is up.
>Then again, even if you do get someone to take care of you, that's going to happen anyway.
>It might take a couple years, but eventually your family is going to kick down your door demanding to see you.
>So, unless you can reveal your situation to your entire family and all your friends without any of them snitching, you're pretty much fucked no matter what.
>You don't want to start pointing non-existent fingers, but you seriously doubt that's going to happen.
>So, what do you do?
>You can only think of one solution that works in the long term.
>You need to find a caretaker, and fake you're own death.

>Or at least disappear.
>That means you wont get to keep the house, or any of your things that would be missed.
>Unfortunate, but necessary.
>The details can be worked out later. You have enough to worry about at the moment without plotting the perfect crime.
>You roll out of bed and stand up on your hooves. They still weird you out when you look closely at them, but you don't really get that flash of dread that you got when you looked at them earlier.
>That was only a few hours ago. It feels like so much longer.
>You step over to the computer and sit down, tucking your tail a little more comfortably this time. You wish you had a stool or something with no back rest.
>You poke the mouse with your hoof, bringing the computer back to life. The screen flashes back on, the pony websites still open from the research you were doing earlier.
>Using the mouse is annoying, but not as difficult at you would have expected. You can move it pretty accurately with little nudges from your hooves. You should probably invest in a track ball at some point all the same.
>You get to your email from your browsers favorites menu, and make a new one, choosing Lizz from a list of recipients.
>That wasn't too hard.
>You stare at the blank text box for a bit. What should you tell her? The full truth wont do any good, she wont believe you. Nop0ny would.
>Better go with something simple.
>With a quick glance around, you find a pen. You pick it up with your mouth, holding it by one end.
>You begin trying to type with it by poking the individual keys one at a time. It's slow going, and frustrating as the pet keeps slipping off the key whenever you try to press it down.
>After a couple minutes of this, you decide to abandon the pen idea altogether.
>You toss it away, relishing the satisfying clatter as it bounces across the hardwood floor. Stupid thing.
>You glare at the keyboard and wonder if they make giant versions for people with no hands or something.
>You give a resigned sigh, and bend over, bringing your face next to the infernal contraption, and begin typing with your tongue.
>It works much better than you thought it would. Your tongue is quick and accurately presses the keys most of the time, and you can bump the spacebar with your chin whenever you need to. You make a few mistakes here and there, but in a few minutes you have a brief letter typed out.
>"Lizz, thanks for bringing me home, and for not taking me to the hospital. I'm not hurt. Listen, I'm sorry to ask this of you, but I really need you to come by here when you can. Tomorrow maybe? If not then, then as soon as possible afterwards. I can't really tell you too much about it here, but it's important. As in it will likely judge the outcome of the rest of my life important. I haven't done anything illegal, so don't worry about that. If you respond, respond via email. I lost my phone."
>You finish reading it over and nod to yourself. Vague enough to not scare her off, but definitely urgent enough to get the point across. Now you just have to hope she reads her emails.
>You send it off with a clumsy click.
>You sit there silent for a while, watching the screen. She probably wont reply for a while yet, if she does at all. Still, there's always a chance.
>With your immediate task done, you aren't actually sure what you should do now. You could try to inform yourself more about the show behind your current predicament, try to delve into the depths of the internet to see if it knows of anything or anyone capable of doing this to you, or you could attempt to blow off some stress and try to entertain yourself.
>You might be able to do both A and 3 by watching the show itself, if it's any good. Lizz didn't seem to mind it, though she never actually said she had seen it.
>Ah hell, why not?
>You've said that before.