Rise of the Mega Horse Part 1

Rise of the Mega Horse

By

Desmond Fallout




This day was going to be perfect. The kind of day of which she had dreamed since she was small. Months of hard, limb-aching, work were going to bear fruit into a bright future. Soon there would be a day in which she had it all.

And then she crossed the finish line.

"Two minutes fifty-eight seconds."

Hazel would have responded with a string of unladylike curses, were she capable of speaking and not a horse. Fortunately, she had a perfectly good jockey to voice displeasure for both of them. Several nearby heads turned to watch the show of a short red haired man hope off his pony sputtering things even other horses found offensive. The poor high school kid that had timed their run looked ready to flee at the first signs of assault.

"How the hell is that even possible!?" The man that had been riding Hazel settled for throwing his helmet at the ground. Earth was one of the less pricey things to damage in a fit of rage. "That's almost twenty seconds longer than Tuesdays practice."

"I...I don't know what to tell you." Hazel felt a bit sorry for the kid now that the rush of her exercised was dying down. He forced out a few rapid apologies before getting away from the pair as fast as possible to time the next runners.

The jockey stood fuming a while longer, eventually letting out a sigh before retrieving his helmet. Realizing the free show was over, the other denizens of the race track returned to their own devices. It did little to stop Hazel's ears from burning red. She still caught the occasional comment about their pathetic displays. Other race horses gave her condescending glances, that were ignored, as they trotted past.

"Don't worry, girl." He gave the side of her neck a gentle petting looking more tired than she felt. That helmet had meshed his red hair into funny bent clumps and his brow sunk heavy in sweat. "We're getting to the top eventually."

"This useless runt!?"

There came a wheezing laugh followed by a smacking to Hazels rear. She, in turn, folded back her ears with an angry snort but resisted the urge to deliver a kick to the offender. Her riders day was bad enough without her outbursts adding to it.

"Oh, uh, hey there Squid. Look, if you're here about the money again, I..."

"I know you don't have it, Johnny boy. After finishing twelve races in last place, I'd be surprised if you had any money at all."

The sleaze ball of a man swaggered into Hazels view. He was one of those people convinced he was so important everything about his appearance had to be multiplied ten over. All that sixties suit and mousse did was make him look like a back-up dancer for Grease and smell worse than the actual motor fluid.

It was what the man represented that made the pair worry about his presence. John was a bit more restrained about showing his ire, though Hazel could smell the fear mixing into his sweat. One of those moments she longed to drape an arm around him in reassurance that were more frequent these days.

"Oh, so what can I do for you? We were just resting up for some more practice laps."

"You both look more ready to drop dead to me, but I'm not jockey." Squid ran his fingers across Hazels flank, making the horse visibly shudder. Neither of the men seemed to notice this though as they locked eyes. "Johnny...I do enjoy these social visits, but sadly the boss is done babysitting you. We're going to be taking the runt back this week."
         
"What!?" Hazel was more surprised by the shock in John's voice than the actual news. This sword had been dangling over their heads ever since he thought taking a loan for her purchase was a good idea. "But...but the last race of the season isn't until the end of the month."

"Orders from the top, Johnny. Besides, you honestly think you still have a chance with this thing? I've seen newborns bigger and faster than her."

"Don't you dare mock Hazel after all the training we've gone through. There's plenty of time for her to get good enough for third place."

Hazel shook her mane with a loud snort, her way of laughing which breifly distracted the conversation. Oh, if only she had that kind of confidence in herself. Despite being the product of two of the region's best racers, she was a horse blessed with the worst a gene pool had to offer. Her body had no muscle, no endurance, and a stature that made other racers consider it a joke. Hell, it barely met the minimal requirements for racing, and that took a lot of coaxing from her temporary owner. If not for John's oddly misplaced faith in her, Squid would have most likely made some spare cash selling a fresh source of dog food.

     Some people just really like an underdog, she assumed. John often assured she was just a late bloomer, whatever that was. If anything it just made each lose harder to bear knowing such a kind man was giving all he was worth.
     
     "It's out of my hands," Squid said, giving Hazel another pat. She could almost feel the snake oil seeping through her fur. "Unless you can get back ten grand overnight you two are done."
     
     "Get your hands off my horse!" Squid jumped back in surprise when John smacked the hand off Hazels flank. He smelled of regret immediately for that action, but still somehow kept a stern face. "Give us until the next race, Squid. Please! I can show you just how much our hard work has left these losers in the dust."
     
     Squid said nothing for an uncomfortably long time. His expression seemed to maintain a disbelief at being touched. They thought for sure he was going to pull out something, but instead just wiped his hand on the back of his pants.
     
     "I'm coming to get the throwback in the morning." His tone made both their skins crawl. "And I'll be bringing friends. Try to keep that in mind as you watch her leave."
     
     With that, Squid turned without a parting gesture and made for the stables. He was not far before stopping to flirt with a female racer that was just setting up for her practice lap. It almost killed the mood the way she gagged on his smell.
     
     "Come on, girl," John said with a tug of her reigns. All energy had drained from his voice into the tired man he really was.
     
     Hazel marched behind him wanting just as much to get away. They went on through past Squid into the racing stables to her usual stall at the very back, near the fire escape. There was not much; just a broken dirty mirror, and the typical food and water bins by the gate. The cheapest one could afford after blowing a life savings on a defunct horse. But for Hazels size it was pretty roomy, and much more homely than what was out on the track.
     
     All the better was when John broke out the brush across her pelt.
     
     "Don't worry about Squid," John said between strokes down her neck. It was a gentle tough. Almost enough to make her troubles vanish within the bristles. "I'll find a way to keep us going until the next race. You just keep focusing on your training and we'll win."
     
     And there went those feelings of bliss not even fur stroking could bring back. What Hazel would give to be able to scream at him. To yell and berate his delusions that she was nothing but a failure and he deserved better. She was not worth his affections, nor the hardships of loans bearing teeth on him. Anyone else would have seen that after months of training and failures, if not the second they looked to purchase her.
     
     "I'm sorry I let you down, girl. Maybe my training method is too flawed."
     
     If only she could talk to him...
     
     "If we can can just get this last chance, I promise to try harder. Find some nice expert advice online or something..."
     
     If only she could HELP him...
     
     "Heh! I wish I could understand you, for that matter. Sometimes it feels like you have more to say than I do."
     
     If only she was not so useless...
     
     "Well, good night Hazel."
     
     Her tantrum of inner turmoil had been so intense Hazel had failed to even register the passing of time. Thankfully John was no better at understanding her distress than she was conveying it. He gave her a hug around the neck and a few parting reassurances before finally leaving. They did little to help Hazels mood as she continued to pace around the tiny stall. If anything a part of Hazel wished he would hate her. That would almost make things easier.
     
     It took a long time, but eventually she became too tired to be angry. Hazel shuffled over to the large pile of blanketed hay and let gravity tip her onto it. She still got a minor satisfaction that was enough to cause a cloud of dried straw to burst out from under the hemp. Her gaze drifted up to the open sunroof where the evening stars were starting to become visible. Humans would say silly things like wishing to them would actually get what you wanted.
     
     I wish I could somehow be useful to John. She brayed to the heavens.
     
     Hey, every little effort counts. Not that Hazel expected anything to change tomorrow, except perhaps her accommodations and a dramatic shortening of life. She eventually drifted off into a weary but deep sleep still hoping for a turn of luck.
     
     Much too deep a sleep to notice the approach of police sirens.
     
     "I told you this was a dumb plan!" Rob impressed himself by managing to utter that sentence in a single puff. Living at forty-two, going into two hundred fifty pounds, running was far down his list of enjoyed activities. Only the growing wails of police sirens made it remotely doable.
     
     "We got the stuff, didn't we?" Frank checked his right hand between strides. As if the small bag he clenched would somehow vanish if he failed to do so every couple of yards. "Besides, you could use the exercise."
     
     "Up yours! I wasn't supposed to even get caught with you. The dragon better pay us in spades if I end up a felon for this."
     
     The pair of black-clad crooks wheeled around the first corner they came across. Zigzagging alleys had delayed their pursuit from the genetics lab two blocks away, but only by so much. Frank was just glad he had a patsy to ditch soon as he found a decent fence to jump.
     
     "I'm sure his heart will bleed for your lose. Hey hold up!!" Frank skidded to a halt upon noticing the race track gates looming over the sidewalk before them. He grabbed onto Robs collar, nearly choking the chubby man as he tried to run past. "This is perfect, let's cut through here!"
     
     "You have got to be kidding. The cops are right there!"
     
"Just shut up and give me a boost."

Rob openly protested this plan on the grounds of being left to rot. Objections that went unheard as his much fitter, stronger, cohort climbed over him as a boost over the wooden gates. He was much relieved after a few tense seconds that Frank propped himself back over to offer his hands in hoisting his accomplice over. A feat that proved more difficult in practice than on paper.

"Hrrkk! How many snack cakes do you eat during research?"

"I'm not that fat you ungrateful...oh buttmonkies! Pull!!"

With lots of flailing and kicking, the pair got Rob's posterior over the gate, but not before a cop car came rounding onto the street in full view of them. Then again, Frank much preferred that sight to Rob's gut smashing across his face as they fell in a pile onto a solid dirt track.

"Get off me, you sack of fat!" Frank used what muscles still worked to roll his partner off and climb to his feet, "Who the heck says 'buttmonkies'?"

"Mama didn't like cursing..."

"I swear, you make me want to..."

Frank decided that venting frustration would have to wait. Sounds of crackling gravel filled the air while both men tensed at seeing red and blue lights flash through cracks in the gate. The lights continued on past, only to stop just beyond the gate. A soft clicking of opening car doors made Frank curse under his breath.

"Come on! We'll hide in the stables."

"Oh yeah, they'll never think to look for us there!"

"Idiot," Frank hissed as he hefted Rob to his feet, practically dragging him along the track hoping that his fat friends outburst has somehow not been heard. "The dragon owns this race track. With any luck those pigs are either getting their palms greased or are too chicken to check around here."

"Most two bit robbers don't carry fifty grand in stolen chemicals." Rob clenched his chest as if that could stop his heart from bursting burst out at any second. Legs almost toppled over each other trying to keep up.

"Good point, but watch who you call two bit." Frank pushed his partner into the stables before trying to silently slide the doors closed. Years of neglected hinge oiling did not aid him in this task. "Besides, whatever I got sent to steal must be worth a lot for all this security."

"Bah, of course the Dragon wouldn't tell you." Rob plopped onto a bale of hay heaving and fanning himself with one hand. Absently he glanced over his shoulder eyeing the contents of the horse pin. Their commotion had woken up some brown pony with a sandy blond man from its nap on a pile of blankets and hay. It stared back at him with a lazy side glance before rolling over to attempt sleep again. What an odd place to bring a newborn. Rob figured it looked barely large enough to carry him around the track, much less a rider.

Forgetting about the horse just as quickly as it did him, Rob turned back to his lackluster thief of a friend. And then yelped to find Frank fondling a small glass vile he had pulled from his bag. The contents of which emitted a soft green glow that seemed entrancing.

"C-carefull with that you ruffian!"

"Relax, fatso, I'm not a butterfingers." To which Frank proceeded to pull out three more vials in a display of juggling. Something he really started to enjoy when the fat man's face drained of all color. "So what is this glow stick filler for?"

"Are you insane!?" Rob started to shout, but recovered enough to drop the last word to a low growl. "That's Pantherstrike Industries experimental fitness formula. Just a drop enhances basic human characteristics tenfold."

"No kidding?" Frank stopped his goofing to admire a vial with a bit more respect. "Maybe you should take a swig for yourself while you got the chance. Heh."

"Like hell I am! I said that stuff is experimental for a reason. You could end up a pile of goo or some immobile mass of muscle for all I know. Not worth the Dragons current salary."

"For once we agree on something." Frank started to bag the vials, feeling a lot more conscious, when a loud snort from behind Rob gave him pause to smirk. "Well there's a worthless runt right behind you."

"Wha?" Rob's face went from red with exasperation to white in horror in the time it took Frank to remove a vial stopper.

"I'm sure the Dragon won't mind us using a drop to make sure this amplifying thing works."

"Are you out of your mind!? Simulation tests showed an exponential growth in both physical structure and receptive senses in humans. I don't have the slightest idea what it'd do to an animal."

Frank ignored his protests and continued the advance, so Rob lunged at his partner with a surprising burst of strength. This was a bad thing, as the fat man had no hope of overpowering someone two feet taller than him already. The vial flew from Franks hand as the men collided with a resounding 'whoomp.' Its impact gave a light shatter on the tin roof of a feed bin while the men fell over each other. This was enough to disturb the tiny horse, though only enough for it to gaze at them dejectedly before turning back to its troubled sleep.

"Look what you did!" Rob scrambled over his partner with complete disregard for their being. Most of the green gloop had dribbled into the bin of fresh feed, and he was far too scared to get within a few feet of what remained.

"What I did?! The hell you flipping out for?" Frank got to his feet cracking knuckles at the fact his suit now reeked of unpleasant horse smells. "We were just going to give that runt a drop to see if your little research worked."

"And instead we lost a fourth of the whole take, well done!" Rob was too busy trying to find some possible way to take the stained feed with them to notice the larger man looming up from behind. "This is why the dragon doesn't pay people like you to think."

"That so...?"

Snapping Rob's neck would have been so easy at this point. The remaining vials were secure, and there was no need to mention losing one. It was not like the fat, slow, weak excuse for a scientist had any use left. But it was not to be. Franks hands got within an inch of his companions head when the stables door thudded in resistance to an outside force trying to open them. Both men jumped while immediately forgetting their respective thoughts.

"Open up! Police!"

"You said they wouldn't come here," Rob squeaked as he ran in little circles desperate for an escape. Nothing but smelly stalls and riding gear far as the eye could see.

Until his eyes caught sight of something...

"Well the dragon can't afford every pig on the payroll," Frank said as he worked to brace the sliding door with a chair. "Let's just figure a way out before more arrive...Rob...?"

When there came no answer, Frank risked a look back. Just in time to see Robs large rear squeeze through an horizontal lifting window behind the stalls. There came an immediate splash upon hitting a rainwater trough, shortly followed by the fading of wet footfalls on pavement.

"Oh you fat fffffffff-"

The chair snapped, barely holding from another shove on the door, and prompting Frank to make a dive for the window himself.

To say that the sight of cops still combing the race track well into next morning was an alarming sight would be an understatement. Considering everything else John had to worry about, a stroke might have been god's mercy killing. He made a panicked beeline straight to the stables, where a cop stopped him outside along with many of the other regular jockeys.

"I'm sorry sir, you can't go in yet."

"But...but my horse is in there!"

"Yeah, I've been getting that a lot." The cop remained surprisingly calm despite not so subtle murmurs about his profession and hygiene from the gathered riders. "I assure you none of the animals have been harmed. But there was a break in and we need time to properly investigate the area."

"Can't I at least see her for a second?"

"Sorry, sir. If I let you in I'd have to let everyone in. There may have been some evidence left around."

"Zis ish an ootrage!" screamed a voice that made John and several other riders groan. The speaker was not hard to identify, since his lime green and black attire made him stand out like a sore thumb to the jockeys more common earth tones. With the large M.H. Initialed on the jersey front it was a common joke around the lodge that he was more primed for a royal dance than a race. Ironic, since he commonly placed top five in every run. "Ze Majestic Horserider demands to zee his prized mare zis instant!"

The cop seemed less annoyed by the screech of his voice than John sure felt. Not that he had to deal with it daily. "Sir, I told you; I'm not taking you seriously until you tell me your real name."

"Good luck with that," John said, accidently too loud as it earned him a look of distaste from the chauvinistic jockey. He only gave his real name to race officials, and no one else liked him enough to ask.

"Fine! Boot if vun hair iz out oof place on mah Beauty, I vill have your badge for mah next trophy!" With that the green man upturned his nose and strutted off to the lounge building with coat tails swishing inches from the dirt path.

It made for a nice distraction, but apparently not good enough. John got his hands on the stable door when the cop placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.

"I suggest the rest of you wait in the lounge as well. My superiors might have some questions to ask if we find anything."

John started to protest until that voice of common sense stopped him mid-sentence. Once the officer released his hold, he joined the rest of the group shuffling to the lounge. Idle hands found their way into open pockets, brushing against a slip of paper that sparked forgotten memories.

"Might as well give Squids boss a call about that extension first..."

Inside the stable was a lot more quieter. The last of the cops had finished their sweep of the interior and were now looking around the window and path their escaped thugs had taken the night before. Even without that ruckus from those two humans, Hazel would not have gotten much of a restful sleep. While the other horses paced around their pens in agitation for their delayed exercise, she mopped in a corner with thoughts lingering on John. His unwavering faith in her pathetic existence had doomed both their lives.

As the police trickled out things quieted down to help calm Hazels nerves. This only did good in directing her full attention to the clenched muscles of an empty stomach. Eating was more on the bottom of her priority list, but she also figured there was no point getting sent to a glue factory hungry. Besides the feed bin had an alluring smell of citrus tickling her nose this morning. At least lady luck was generous enough to have a stable boy give her Majestic's seasoned feed by mistake.

Soon as her snout stuck in for a mouth full that horse was hooked. The simple act of chewing became a sensational distraction. There was a strange tartness to the grass that stabbed at her tongue, followed by a chilling sweetness that seemed to travel down her throat with the food being swallowed. As if the smell was not addicting enough. By the time the last cop left the stable she had a slight bulge in her middle with a belly gurgling it's satisfaction at having something to digest for a while.

Hazel began to pace around her pen with tail held high. That unexpected treat had felt surprisingly invigorating. No wonder Majestic always seemed to enjoy his food. Its smell remained engraved on her nostrils while the sweet aftertaste continued to flutter around her tongue. She wanted to savor it and pretend she had no troubles for as long as possible.

Around the third lap her pace came to a crashing halt. Quite literally, as all four knees buckled, hoofs slamming onto the dirt in an attempt to catch some balance. Like many things physical, reflexes were not a strong point of Hazel's. She ended up crashing into Johns work table, snapping in half before Hazel's side hit the ground underneath. Even for a runt, she was still a horse.

Hazel climbed back onto her hooves, though they refused to stop shaking. A strange dizziness swept over her head making it hard to stand much less move. Loud gurrgling noises began to emminat from her stomachs. There walls clenched and shifted as if struggling to digest the recently aquired food. No wonder they would give her goumet food if it was spoiled rotten. But Hazel did not feel like she was going to be sick, just very strange. The effects seemed to be slowly spreading out from each belly. Bit of muscle twtiched and flexed all across Hazels middle.

A particularly hard jolt in her flank caused Hazel to kick her left leg and almost topple over again. She let out a paniced whinny while spreading out her hooves to catch herself, but was still overcome with the sensation of falling.

     Seconds later her ears perked in confusion at not having hit solid ground.
     
     Hazel risked a look down while taking several deep breaths. She was still standing perfecttly on all fours, so what was with this odd sense of vertigo? Looking around the rest of the stable it quickly became apparent why; she was growing!
     
     It was like stepping onto a slowly rising platform. Moments ago her ears had barely been visible over the wooden fence. Now she was starting to get a clear view of the other pens with the horses contained therein. Many of whom had heard her cries and were looking over with various degrees of interest.
     
     Her neighbor, a greyish mare named Twilight-something, had stuck her head over to check the commotion. They were just as surprised as Hazel to find themselves staring at equal eye levels. It was when Hazel began to have to bend her neck to look down that Twilight decided to back off. It was an unusual role reversal for most of the horses there.
     
     Not that Hazel was in a state to care. Her gaze was too busy whipping around the place to make sure she was still in her body and not a ghost floating away. It did not help there was suddenly a lot less pen space to circle around.
     
     Large twinges down the front made Hazel stop to stare at her legs. They were long and sleek. Two adjectives that no one would ever considered using to describe her. She let out a disgruntled snort feeling something give in her hooves. All four of the metal horseshoes had dettached, looking dainty under the platforms they used to be nailed on. It was hard to consider those limbs were still hers.
     
     Twitches and squeezes of various muscles helped dissolve any beliefs of this being a mere dream. They were happening all over her body in rapid earnest. Often in places Hazel was not aware she had any muscle. Watching closely, they could actually be seen shifting and flexing under the chestnut fur. Hazels skin moved about in ripples leaving behind an odd sense of firmness.
     ****
     Why became apparent for her fur was rapidly growing taunt, sinew bulging against it to form rough ridges. Hazels jaw and ears dropped at skin trying to keep her muscles contained. A cramp between the shoulders caused her to hunch forward with a loud snort. Then with a loud snapping they spread to relieve the stress, broadening with increased thickness.
     
     Hazel was not concerned about that. Her neck stayed bent down to admire the way her chest billowed out with each labored breath. Lungs pressed against her rib cage as they expanded, seeming to cause the bones themselves to spread with multiple soft pops. A few more gulps of air and her chest had billowed out with enough lean muscle some of the spectating mares scowl in envy.
     
     Ripples surged up past Hazels shoulder, causing her to shake her head with a disgruntled snort. She froze in shock before giving another deliberate snort. The usual noises she made were starting to sound deeper, stronger, to match the rest of the changes. Even her mane felt a bit denser as it swished against a thicker neck.
     
     A very powerful twinge struck Hazels right flank, evaporating whatever dignity her improve physique earn with a high pitched whinny. A second one struck her left side, making her reflexively buck her rear a good two feet into the air. Hazel turned to see what had smacked her backside and blushed. Her hindquarters were not spared an upgrade at having grown nearly twice their normal size, none of which in fat. The sight of those thighs grafted with the unbridled sinew of a draft horse began to stir feelings of panic into an onset of hope. The cults certainly did not seem to mind this improvement to her derriere. A lot of the horses had started to get in closer to their fences for a better view of this once joke of a racing horse.
     
     Hazel was too excited to care about them. Somehow, someway, her wish had come true. Now she could finally be of use to the man that saved her life. This spontaneous growth had easily made her a champion sized horse, maybe even larger than the strongest in this stable. A notion helped when she turned to notice her startled buck had blasted a hole in the wall.
     
     Regardless, Hazel began to trot in place spouting happy brays. All those stares of jealously the others were giving fueled a newfound confidence. Oh yeah! They knew all of Hazels hard work was finally going to pay off. Her late blooming had come in. And nothing anyone was going to do could stop her now.
     
     Except maybe for strange cramps in her fore hooves.
     
     Hazel stared down the trembling platforms coming off her victory high. The tingles were not stopping, she realized with dissipating joy, only becoming more focused on certain parts. It felt like their insides were shifting, expanding. Hazel clopped at the ground as her weight altered between them. A sound that seemed to be getting softer with each slap of the ground. The hard shell was brightening from its normal black to become almost as brown as her fur. It was almost like she was wearing a hard shoe that was becoming really, really, tight...
     
     CRRRRACK!!
     
     Hazel reared back on her hind legs in a whinny of panic, kicking forelegs as if to somehow throw the source of her horror off. In one mighty flex her fore hooves had cleaved into five sections. Joints she had never known before flexed of their own accord, uncurling to their full length. Four jutted straight out into the air, while a fifth stuck out off to the side of her palms. All of which with amazingly dexterous while still keeping tips cloven like stone. They looked just like the digits John had.
     
     SNN-AAP! POP!
     
     Something ground hard in Hazels hips suddenly relinquishing gravities pull on her upper body. Ears range out with loud popping while they spread outward into a very wide curve from her waist. The task of walking upright suddenly got much easier, although she staggered about in clumsy clops trying to adjust to the sudden change of balance.
     
     "Nnngghh!!" Hazel grunted through clenched teeth feeling her rear muscles clench. Both cheeks jutted out in a surge of additional sinew that washed down her legs in a wave. Thighs became slightly longer, becoming thick and supple. Calves bulked considerably with muscle for better supporting the bulk of her weight.
     
     At the time it dawned on Hazel she had just made a human noise there was no chance to wonder. Both shoulders gave out a loud 'CRACK,' and their connected forelegs slumped down to rest against her plump hips. Tension at the base of the neck caused Hazel to hunch forward with another moan. Her left shoulder shot out, followed by the right. Fore legs gave off a slow, grinding noise as they rotated into the newly formed sockets. Did the leg joints break? No. She found them just as capable of lifting, in fact more so, with a bit of experimenting. She found they could extend out to the sides with ease. Even reaching around to feel her shapely rump. Blond horse tail remained attached to the top waving across that backside like a curious flag.
     
     Things were happening too fast for Hazel to take in. New forces pushed at her spine so that the horse would jut upright thrusting her chest out. Vertebrae sung out in a series of rapid pops while it developed an inward curve down to its thick tail and giving her hips a bit more lift. It helped maintain a better balance at least while the mare staggered about her pen.
     
     Especially when her ribcage collapsed so suddenly it almost knocked Hazel off her hooves. The bones developed sharp ridges while the organs they housed sloshed about into an arrangement more comfortable for quadrupedal walking. It smoothed out her torso nicely, taking off all the forward weight that kept her on all fours.
     
     "Aaahh!!" Something stung her eyes, forcing them to squeeze shut. Hazel could do little but try to remain still and standing as the apex of the changes came sweeping over her head. It was a mix blessing. Just feeling her skull pull closer to her shoulders was awkward enough without seeing it. Then came the odd pulling as her face felt like it was stretching wider. Teeth clanked together in irritation from a muzzle broadening, gaining amounts of skin to form cheeks. Only to have cold tears streak down them when the eyes themselves felt pinched, almost as if they were moving together. Even Hazels mane itched considerably as it became effected. There was certainly a lot more hair sweeping across her back fur than usual. And John kept her well groomed for safe racing.
     
     She got so overwhelmed by the unseen sensations that it was a full minute before Hazel realized they had stopped. With great reluctance her eyes risked opening.
     
     And she almost lost her balance again from a sudden onset of depth perception. It took a minute to realize her eyes had been moved into the front of her skull. It was a bit of a restricted wall vision, having to stare straight ahead, but a much sharper one. That was when Hazel caught sight of herself in the mirror over her feeding bin.
     
     The first thing she noticed was her eyes. Gone was the almost solid, vacant, blackness, replaced with whites surrounding burning red pupils. They were indeed aligned in sockets at the front of her skull working muscles with the additional ones of her cheeks to make expressions. Specifically one of shock, if her observations of people served true. And with good cause...
     
     She was human!
     
     Well, sort of human. Hazels face was still long and angular with an equine snout. Pointy animal ears wiggled through the thick mess of yellow hair near the top of her head. The parts of her blond mane that had vanished from her neck must have decided to add onto the locks that remained, for they now ticked at her waist while she twisted and turned for a better look. Hands flexed in experimental firsts as they brushed along the fine fur of her curved womanly torso and hips. And despite her legs being full and supple they still ended in hard cloven hoofs. Their clopping footsteps proved fairly audible. It was like staring at a mix of the two finest aspects of human and horse.
     
     A notion better emphasized when a fluttering made Hazel gasp, hands flying up to grasp her chest. Not moments later her flesh billowed out to push back against her hold. With each rapid breath two furry mounds rose bigger and fuller, their softness starting to warp between the gaps in her fingers. When it stopped she let the odd growths go, feeling their heavy weight pull her as they fell to hang from her chest. She blinked at the mounds that slightly obscured her view of the ground before looking back to the mirror. Then she turned resting one hand under them while another reached back to rest on her rear. A classic profile shot she had seen sometimes in magazines stage hands left around. She murred at what she saw, now a complete human female profile with their type of udders.
     
     Although Hazel was not aware she was at least twice as endowed as any woman she had ever seen during race days.
     
     Forget how or why; with the anxiety gone Hazel began to strike any sort of poses she could recall in admiration of her new form. Many of which an average man would have considered a huge striptease, provided they were willing to overlook the swaying horse tail. Maybe this was not her wish, but wish had come true none the less. Perhaps she could learn to speak like John in this form. That alone sent her in a jitter. They could finally understand each other on a level they had both been longing for. She could finally tell John...
     
     "All right already! You can get back to your racing, folks. Thanks for your patience."
     
     ...that their first meeting as equals was not supposed to be done bare naked and struggling to hold her bowles. A cop had spoken outside with no attempt to hide his irritation. The sounds of stable doors being unlocked and grinding open jolted Hazel back to where she was and what had happened to her. Human law people were still all over this place, and she had no idea how to properly communicate with them. Even if she could, it is not like she had any clear understanding of why she was standing on hind legs in the middle of an animal pen. What would a human even do at seeing a creature like her?
     
     And the fear only got worse at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching.
     
"Hazel!? Are you all right back here?"