Author's note: This is fiction dealing with a human to centaur transformation. While I do appreciate feedback of nearly all kinds, I will once again say that if this is not your cup of tea, feel free to back out.
Thundra: Chapter 2 – First Steps of a New Life
What the hell am I going to do? I nearly shouted. I've got a horse's ass! There's no way I can make it out of here like this; I had a hard enough time with the stairs when I had two legs. I'd probably break the elevator if I tried to take that, too. I felt panic begin to take hold once again when I realized that I was all alone in this other body and had no idea how to get back to mine.
No! I fought against the fear that was threatening to overwhelm me. I knew that in a disaster, the last thing you wanted to do was panic. Focus! The rational part of my brain shouted. I was afraid of the thunder. I panicked and this happened. I thought it was odd that I had suddenly become afraid of thunderstorms; I had never been afraid of them before. My breathing began to get steadier as I thought of what to do next.
Ahead of me was another hallway. As I looked down it, I felt my tensed muscles starting to ache. I knew from my experience riding horses that after a brisk run, you were supposed to walk the horse for a little while to keep their muscles from cramping. Deciding that that was the best option for me, I now had to figure out how to stand up from my kneeling position.
I thought of the few times I had surprised horses that slept lying down. Somehow, they rocked their weight backwards and untangled one front leg. The second front leg followed, and then they'd shift their weight forward in a great lunge and untangle their rear legs. This is impossible; how am I going to tell my body to do that? I couldn't even tell it to stop running when I had to. I sighed heavily in desperation and watched as the sides of this horse body moved up and down. I hadn't really thought about moving them; they had just reflexively moved.
Alright, I told myself. Either get your butt up off this cold floor and try to figure out how to go home, or admit defeat and lie here waiting for someone to find you, freak out, and call in the FBI. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I concentrated on shifting my weight and moving my right front leg. Leaning my torso backwards to shift my weight, I managed to free my leg and placed it in front of me with a resounding clop. I leaned to the right, remembering to keep my weight on my back end, and unfolded my left front leg.
Having seen my rear end, I thought it would take a great amount of momentum to get it off the ground. I lunged forward as if I were diving off the side of a pool, shifting my weight and nearly tripping on my own front legs as I unfolded my rear legs. I righted myself with a start, throwing my arms out to my sides like a gymnast on a balance beam. I had been holding my breath without knowing it, and let it out as I looked downward. I smiled; realizing that I probably looked like a wobbly young foal with my legs splayed a little to keep myself from loosing my balance and falling.
Walking was another matter altogether. The horses I had ridden had made it seem so effortless; then again, they had been born with four legs. I had always wondered what it would feel like to walk if I were a horse; when I had turned ten, I spent the whole summer imitating a horse's gaits with my two legs. Looking back on it now, I realized that I probably had looked quite silly lacking the grace and fluidity of movement that four legs afforded. Now was my chance.
I called to memory all the times I had pranced through grocery store aisles and mall parking lots; I lifted my right forehoof and right away ran into a dilemma of physics. I now had four legs instead of two; and yet I was balancing as if I had only two. When bipeds walk, one leg supports the weight of the body while the other leg carries through the momentum, and many people lean forward slightly to go with the momentum of their walk. Now, my extra legs hindered my momentum and stopped me from moving forward because they were not involved.
I sighed. I was still thinking like a human. I thought back to one of my first riding lessons, when my teacher taught me about the way horses moved. She had us ride bareback and lay along the horses' backs, feeling their front leg movements with our hands and their rear leg movements with our legs.
I had to think like a horse if I was going to master this body.
Horses, by nature, are prey animals. Their bodies and minds have filled the niche of a prey animal for centuries; humans, on the other hand, are predators. However, humans also have the capability to deal with sudden change. Horses are not stupid in any sense of the word; they just don't adapt to change well.
I closed my eyes and tried to focus on what it had felt like riding bareback that day. As I lifted my right forehoof, I flexed my rear left hoof. I leaned forward slightly and placed my right front hoof down. Rather than getting all worked up about it, I accepted it as a "normal" thing; I do this all the time, I told myself. Hesitantly, I brought my left rear hoof up and forward as I shifted my weight to my right front. Placing it down, I lifted my left front hoof and took another slow step.
About ten minutes later, I reached the end of the hallway. I could vaguely make out my reflection in the glass doors ahead, and I was stunned. I turned to the side so I could see all of this body that I had somehow grown.
To say that I was struck dumb would be an understatement. I think I must've stood there for at least three minutes with my mouth gaping open, not daring to breathe. I heard myself making a small squeaking noise and swallowed hard. I want that horse, I thought. And then I realized that I really was that horse. It finally hit me - I was a centaur.
Judging from the reflection in the wireglass, I was a medium chestnut brown with dun points. My legs were well-muscled, and feathered like those of a draft horse from the knee down. My hindquaters were well-built, and my tail nearly reached the floor. My hooves looked to be about the size of a dinner plate. The area where my human and horse torsos joined was sparsely furred with the same chestnut hair that covered my horse body.
I liked my new form immensely. I could finally move like a horse! The best part, though, was that I could beat Jena Deveso in the mile run in gym class. She had run it in 8 minutes and 16 seconds, and I envied her for her lanky body and speed. I could probably run a mile in half that time now, and then afterward beat the tar out of Kati Mancuso, the girl who had been making my life miserable since the first day of class.
The dull ringing of the chapel brought me out of my daydream; it was now nine-thirty. Shit…This is for real. I just up and turned into a centaur, and now I have to get home. What am I going to tell my parents? How will they react? I wondered. I wasn't looking forward to trying to go down three flights of marble steps with this horse body. I thought of various excuses to tell my parents as I slowly walked back to my locker.
Hey, guess what? You know how I've been taking horseback riding lessons… No, that one wouldn't work, I thought as I began to pick up scattered papers off the floor around my locker. You know how I wanted a pony when I was younger? I guess I finally got it... Nope, that one wouldn't work either. I sighed heavily. How could I tell my parents that I had transformed into a centaur without having them freak out?
Think, stupid. Think. I rested my head against the top of my locker. There was just no way that I could manage to go home and not have everything be thrown into chaos. My mother, once she got over the shock of seeing my new form, would probably yell at me for ruining a thirty dollar pair of jeans; my father would probably come close to fainting, and then start worrying about how he was going to pay for my room and board at a stable.
I was considering running off to join a circus or a caravan of gypsies when it suddenly hit me: What if I wasn't stuck in this form? If I could revert back to my human form, the worst thing I'd have to deal with would be the inevitable grounding I'd receive when I arrived home late. But did I really want to go back? Things would be the same as they had always been; I'd still be generally ignored. Did I want to give all this up?
I glanced downward at my equine legs. I had dreamed of owning a draft horse for ages; now that I had the chance to actually be somewhat like one, I didn't want to give it up just because I was chicken. Yet, what kind of life would I have? I had to figure out how to get out of the building without seriously injuring myself, and then I probably would be living out on the streets with only the clothes on my back. I didn't know how to live on the streets; it wluld be just my luck that I'd get shot and killed by someone thinking I was some kind of hallucination. And if I did somehow manage to survive, I'd probably be hunted down by Animal Control, the Police, or the FBI.
I shuddered at the thought of being held captive in a cage while men in sterile white labcoats did all kinds of medical tests on me. I definitely didn't want that. What am I going to do? I thought, banging my forehead against a locker. Was there some way for me to get back to my human form?
Oddly enough, as I began to search through my memory for everything I had read about mythology, something from Health class that day stood out in my mind. We had been assigned to do a report on a rekaxing technique; one of my peers had chosen to do meditation.
"First, you have to breathe deeply, and then find your happy place." He had said. At the time, everyone had laughed, myself included. The way he'd said it made him sound like Richard Simmons; and yet it was the only thing I could think of at this moment that made any sense at all. Without consciously trying, I had begun to breathe deeper. As I closed my eyes, I placed my forehead against the cold metal locker door in front of me.
I tried to clear my mind. What's the singular, most important thing in my life? I asked myself. As if sent from some higher power, I began remembering my grandmother's farm. Specifically, the expansive fields and woodlands; in nearly all of these memories, my grandfather was present. My grandfather had passed away over the summer, and since his death I had felt in instinctive pull to the land that had been in our family since the early 1950's.
My grandfather's grandfather had been born the son of a farmer in Poland, and immigrated to America in 1840. He and his family were processed at Ellis Island, and proceded to settle in the western part of New York state. Settling in the city, they never forgot their farming background; when my great grandfather came of age, he struck out for a more rural area. My grandfather was born and raised on a small dairy farm. When it came time for him to start a family, he moved to the city but could not seem to let go of his farming roots. After a few years, he bought a plot of land a hour from his boyhood home. This is where my father was raised. My father, unlike my grandfather, didn't feel a bond with the land; thus I came to be raised in a 3 beedroom suburban home, where the farthest distance between any point on your property and your neighbor's property was always less than 50 feet.
I had enjoyed this lifestyle for the first ten years of my life, but with the onset of puberty came a certain restlessness and desire for more space. I had begun joining my father when he would visit my grandparents to help out with farm chores, and with the passing of my grandfather our visits had increased. It seemed only fitting that I thought of this as my happy place. My illusion seemed so real - I could almost swear I heard the warning call of a chickadee as it signaled to it's neighbors that the cat was nearby.
What happened next can only be described as surreal. I heard someone calling out; it sounded like they were right behind me.
"Peanut..." The voice said as I turned. My breath caught in my throat when I saw him.
"Grampa?" I managed to squeak out. I couldn't believe what I was seeing - here he was, my deceased grandfather, standing before me with a body that I didn't recognise. "Is it really you?" From the waist up, this apparation looked exactly like my grandfather. Below the human waist, however, was the body of a draft horse.
"Of course it's me, sweetheart. What would make you think otherwise?" His voice even had the same smooth chalk-on-a-slateboard quality that my grandfather's had. I must have been standing there gawking for a few moments, because then he said, "Maybe this isn't the form you remember, but it's still me."
He went on to explain how the ability to transform ran in our family. Back when my ancestors were living in Poland, our gene pool had mutated when two cousins married and had children. Since they lived in a small farming town, marriage between cousins was socially acceptable; if any of the children ended up retarded or otherwise impaired, the community accepted them as they were. Because my ancestors could transform into centaurs, they helped the farmerswith the spring ploughing and heavy farmwork. In return, they were accepted, and their identities were closely guarded from foreign eyes. Fate dealt them a difficult hand when Germany and Russia began fighting over posession of Poland in 1839; if they were exposed, death was certain. As a result, they were smuggled to a coastal town and boarded a boat for America. They were processed at Ellis Island, and set down roots in Western New York.
"So you see, honey, there's nothing to be afraid of. This ability is simply part of who you are." He stated.
"But then how come nobody else is a centaur? Why do I have to be the only one?" I whined. I didn't want to be alone with this ability. There was no way I could've been the only one who had inherited this trait. I knew enough of genetics to know that congenital conditions ran in families, and when present were usually plentiful.
"You aren't the only one. You just have to be patient - the next one is still very young. When it is their turn, they will need your guidance."
"How will I know if I'm ready for that?" I asked, not really wanting to be saddled with the responsibility of living as a centaur and then helping another of my relatives when their time came.
"Trust me, Peanut. You'll know, and you'll be ready." He started to turn away.
"Wait!" I called. "Isn't there a way for me to be human again?" I had been worried that I'd be stuck like this forever, but knowing now that my grandfather was a centaur and had been able to live as a human gave me a thin shred of hope. He turned and chuckled.
"Just remember your original form." He said, as he began to fade. "And don't forget to keep an eye on my trees." With that, he was gone. Remember my original form? I thought. What the hell does he mean by that?
I opened my eyes and found that I was staring at my hooves. I sighed, remembering when they had been human feet and how I despised them even then. I couldn't count the number of times I had tripped over myself in a fit of clumsiness. I silently wished I could have them back, even with their flaws. For safety's sake, I wanted my human body back.
Suddenly, I felt a searing pain run up my spine. My body felt as if it had grown too large, and like a stretched-out rubberband was now starting to recoil. I realized that I had managed to trigger another transformation - from my centaur form back to human. I heard an impossibly loud popping noise, and realized that my joints were begining to disarticulate. Muscles around my waist began to cramp and change shape; I doubled over, my rear end in the air. The bones of my rear legs had somehow been absorbed back into my body, and now they were small stubs of legs. My horse spine began to withdraw into my human spine, bringing my horse rump along with it. I could feel the muscles in that rump shifting and modifying as they slowly became something resembling my human backside. The pain intensified as my human pelvis realigned and my body took back it's own flesh. I felt myself slipping into unconciousness, and embraced the dark relief.
I awoke to the sound of the churchbells ringing out ten o'clock. What a strange dream... it seemed so real. With a start, I realized that I was laying facedown on the cold marble floor of the school hallway in nothing but my t-shirt and shreds of cloth that had been my underwear and jeans. My footwear was missing as well. Holy shit! You're dead meat! You're sitting here on the floor of the school in almost nothing and you're out past curfew! I felt my heartbeat quicken. It hadn't been a dream then, if my clothing was in such a state.
Putting my transformation abilities on the back burner for a moment, I concentrated on the task at hand: figuring out what I would be wearing home. Thankfully, my locker held my life; crawling over to it, I rummaged through textbooks and forgotten detention slips until I found some old gym clothes. I didn't like wearing my sneakers without socks, but it would have to do since I could hurt myself riding my bike home in the rain without shoes. Remembering my earlier task of retrieving my English book, I quickly located the scoundrel and placed him in my backpack with the library books I had taken out earlier. I chuckled when I saw the title of one: Unicorns, Dragons, and Centaurs: Do they Exist?
I managed to make it home alright, and caught hell from my parents when they realized that I'd been gone for nearly two hours. I tried to explain to them that I'd been sidetracked and had seen my grandfather, but they brushed it off as another one of my clever lies to gain attention. I was grounded and sent to my room; I ended up doing my English homework in school the next day.
End Note: Happy Christmahaunakwanzaaka (or whatever holiday you may celebrate in the last week of December) to Thundra's fans! I thought that putting this up would make a nice present... If folks are interested in her further adventures, leave me some reviews! (Yes, you can leave anonymous reviews if you're not a member... but please at least take credit for your opinion and put your name on it somewhere.) Sorry this one took so long... school finals were murder to my brain cells. I'll try to make this like, a bi-weekly thing (or maybe monthly)if folks are interested. Also, to my knowledge there's no real book called Unicorns, Dragons and Centaurs: Do they Exist? If anyone finds out that there is, let me know so I can give credit where it's due.