Now, normally, when one sees a big fuck-off fence saying "Do Not Enter!", they'd turn the other way. Not John Holt. He assumed it was meant for trespassers or thieves. He was neither. He was just going to knock on the door and ask for some help. Nothing wrong with that, right?
So, ignoring those signs, he looked for an entrance past the fence and found a large hole in the metal wire mesh. John wasn't as spry as he was when he was younger, but he managed to crawl through it without hurting himself. Well, at least for now. Maybe he'd have some back pain later, but it was worth it if it helped his family.
Before him, he saw a very run-down looking farmhouse. He couldn't see any crops, so it was likely a livestock farm, he assumed. Not that it mattered. As long as whoever lived here had some mechanics know-how, or knew someone close who did.
John walked down the cobblestone path, feeling an eerie sense of being watched, as well as an odd itchy sensation. He ignored it and pressed on, making his way up the rickety stairway and to the front door. He took a deep breath and then knocked.
There was no answer, but the feeling of being watched did increase, as did the itching sensation. So much so that he had to sit down on the nearby patio bench to scratch himself. "Argh....what is this? I hope there aren't fleas here..."
He'd normally flick his tail to get the bugs to go away...wait...tail? John shook his head. He never had a tail. What was he talking about?
John got up, the itching having stopped for a moment, and tried knocking again. "Hello? Is anyone home? I've got some car troubles, and I really need some help! Hello!"
After about 3 more minutes of itchy sensations and still no response, John decided to try the back door. He got on all fours and made his way off the porch. It just felt natural to him to walk that way, especially as his arms and legs grew and shifted a bit to accommodate for this way of walking.
It was starting to hurt his hands to walk this way, though, but...since when did he have hands? Or feet for that matter? He glanced down. Nope, same hooves as always, with his gorgeous white coat complementing them. He smiled as his face pushed outwards, along with his ears moving upwards.
As John arrived at the back door, he paused, not quite remembering what he was doing back here. He gave a little neigh of confusion, and felt something between his hind legs invert inwards, causing him, or rather her at this point, to neigh more.
Joanne shook her head, and went looking for her new mate, The Black Stallion.