Welcome to Los Pegasus - Chapter 02

>Be anon.
>The bubble of light that had grown about you is gone, and you are in what appears to be Salvador Dali's R'lyeh summer home, drained of the water and with an acid trip for a sky.
>You keep screaming. There is a quaint house before you, maroon siding, magenta window sills, and a chartreuse door, roof, and window awnings. Before the house is a green lawn with a picturesque white picket fence and a stone path leading away to a floating, physically impossible rope bridge.
>Beneath you is the carpet from your room, though just a circle of it from where you had been standing.
>Your head is still pounding like you drank a whole carton of boxed wine the night before.
>You keep screaming.
>Where the fuck are you? There is a small white rabbit tapping his foot impatiently in front of you, and with a sudden poof another figure comes into view, much bigger and much less familiar.
>Whatever it is stands three times as tall as you, looking like someone tried to make a dragon for Chinese New Year and they ran out of dragon, settling for whatever the hell was around to finish the creature. A horse's face with mismatched horns, crazed jaundice-yellow eyes, a snaggletooth, a goat's beard, a lion paw, an eagle's talon, a bird's wing, a bat's wing, the hoof of a goat, the leg of an alligator, and a red serpentine tail.  You take a breath.
>You resume screaming, only to suddenly find a large hunk of cork in your mouth, the figure shaking its head and speaking in a voice that you swear you've heard somewhere before.
>"Now, now, that's enough of that, my little unicorn friend." It reaches up and pulls out two ear plugs and flicks them aside. They land off in the yard, exploding into a puff of fire each. Great, you're in Aquateen Hunger Force or some shit.
>You grunt and huff a bit, trying to pry your mouth a bit further open to spit out the big cork. You expect an explosion as it hits the grass, flinching away from it, the small rabbit in the yard darting away in anticipation. However, the cork simply rolls to a stop in the grass and poofs out of existence.
"Where the buck am I? What are you? WHY AM I A HORSE?" You start to shout in a panic, trembling atop the circle of carpet. "WHAT'S Mmmnff!"
>You are silenced with the feeling of your lips stuck together.  You fumble a bit with your mouth, only to discover a zipper in its stead, the mismatched figure rising up to float in the air before you.
>"Look, whoever you are, as amusing as your confusion is I am sad to say that this is not really a good time for me." He looks down at a clipboard, suddenly materialized in his lion's paw, "I'm full up for weeks, sad to say, and am in the middle of a very important appointment." He flips through the pages of the clipboard, all manner of scribbles within a calendar grid, "But if you still have questions after a few weeks maybe then I could have this conversation with you. Alas, I have neither the time nor resources to deal with you currently."
>He looks down at his wrist, which bears a miniature cuckoo clock on a strap. "Oh dear, I've spent too much time out here already and dear Fluttershy is waiting," he muses. "Be a dear and buzz off for a bit. Here, I know, I'll send you someplace fun, and maybe you can burden somepony else with your little game of twenty questions.
>You try to speak again, your response muffled by your zipped lips.
"Mmnfff ffn hfm vmb"
>He reaches over and grabs some bit attached to your lip and pulls to the side, the zipper opening, your lips taking a moment before feeling their normal... or at least not zippery selves. You open your mouth to speak but the creature raises his taloned arm and snaps two digits. With a pop, everything is gone, save for your circle of carpet, and the next instant a burning sun beats down on you from above, sand dunes and mesa surrounding you.
>Frustrated, you throw your head back with your much more dexterous-than-usual neck.
"What the buck!?"
>Scrambling about, you locate your phone on your raft of carpet. You fumble about with your stumpy hooves, tapping the button on the side. The screen lights up, showing the Google results of your search. "Hands and feet numb, changing into hooves" reads the search bar.  There's a handful of news articles about a some designer drug. There's also a few links to rehabilitation centers, and a page that reads, "First Timer's guide to Pon-E". You check the signal.  No wifi, no bars, no network. You can't click on any of the links and expect to get anywhere.
>Scouring the page, you do your best not to tap the screen and accidentally navigate away.  "Pon-E is a new designer drug making the rounds..." This blurb doesn't seem to say much. "You may have been hearing about Pon-E in the news lately, and for good reason.  The transformative pills have become the new date rape drug on college campuses nationwide almost overnight," reads another.  Down the page a bit more is an Erowid link with nothing but headers and no real information displayed for the search results. A bit lower down seems to be a link to a reddit post "Just two pills ruined my life" reads the header. Wait, two? What?
>Then you see it. "Nineth Circuit Court rules that Pon-E Victims, Addicts Still US Citizens Despite Change in Species.  Pon-E is a truly terrifying drug. Just two tablets is enough to permanently change an otherwise normal citizen into a talking, pastel horse."  You nearly drop the phone, fumbling it a bit. The screen vibrates a bit in response, and suddenly the loading bar begins to show above.
"Wait! No no  no no please no stop that" you try to reason with the device while fumbling to stop loading a new page. Just as you do the page goes white, replaced with the little image of a dinosaur and a message of "You are Offline".
>You hit back, but you still get the offline message.  Welp, your phone is useless. With a sigh you pick up your duct-taped jacket in your teeth and try to come up with a plan.
>The sun sure was hot, beating down on you with the arid land about you. With a bit of grunting, you manage to undo one of the pocket zippers on your jacket.  You push the phone into the pocket, jamming it a bit unceremoniously with a hoof.
>To your left is your trusty duct tape, the roll half-used.  After a bit of finagling, you manage to cram it into the opposite pocket from your very expensive electronic paperweight. After a bit more fussing, you manage to drape the jacket over your back, the weight of the items in the pockets weighing it down on either side of you, keeping the garment somewhat in place, albeit just as a bag.
>You scan the horizon, looking for some sort of situation. Better to keep your head than die in the desert.  You see what looks to be train tracks winding in the distance, and you follow them with your eyes until you see  the dark shapes of what might be buildings partway along the railroad's path.
>Raising to all fours, you look about once more in all directions. Nothing else for miles, it looks like.
"Looks like we're hoofin it," you say to yourself, your attempt at humor failing to lighten your mood from the absolute pile of confusion that has befallen you.