With the traffic still tight, but able to hold a steady 35, I could relax a bit and enjoy what I was now becoming. A Clydesdale Mare.
In fact the only thing marring the experience was the prickling that having started where the numbness on my fingers and toes had grown, had now spread up my legs and arms, forcing me to scratch away at them every so often to dull the itching. A task that had started to grow more difficult with how my hands slowly began to change their shape. Longer now, and with a blackness spreading from the tips, already halfway down the fingers.
Adjusting the rear-view mirror allowed me to finally get a proper look at my face once I hit a safe enough patch of road. Already my ears were pointed, long, coated in brown fuzz as they slowly travelled up my head to their new resting point. A nose grotesquely swollen and fusing to my upper jaw, that with the lower one pushed its way outward.
“This…this is so, wonderful.” I managed to giggle once I had my eyes facing ahead once more.
And it was. Here I was, travelling down the highway, slowly becoming a mare (the brown and white fur now grown and my hair becoming a black mane) with no other even pausing to think there was anything unusual about a increasingly-equine driver in their midst.
Or the very Jackass one from before taking the turnoff to exit the highway. Having an opportunity for one last look, revealing the massive hardened cock he now sported, viewable from even where I was.
In turn making my own crotch rather wet at the sight. Juices trickling from the widened point between my legs, now feeling rather confined in the tightening jeans. The same as with my checker blouse where not only were the buttons pulled painfully, but the first tear along a seam occurred.
Height was another thing I noticed myself gaining, blouse and jeans parting to reveal a brown-furred waist and my ears tickled by the ceiling, again making me giggle in mischievous joy. Even as my legs shifted away from each other and I leaned my widening frame forwards, I couldn’t stop enjoying the overpowering sensation of what I was doing.
Then the inevitable consequence of driving while becoming a mare made itself known, an impatient driver cutting three lanes in an effort to shave a few seconds forcing the use of the brakes, which only with focused care did I achieve.
A check of the lane-cutter’s car, a Lincoln Escalade, confirmed the identity of the driver. One Jeanne Winters. A Co-Worker but not one I liked, and liked to know even less.
“That cow, I can barely sthand her.” I grunted out, revealing an issue I had previously overlooked.
If I lost my capacity for speech, I might not be able to reverse my own transformation, which based on how ill-fitting my boots were, had to be close to hooves by now.
“I wish.” I began slowly, with care. “That my, speech, is, unimpaired, even if, fully a, Clydesdale, Mare.”
Satisfied that at least now I’d retain speech, I could worry about that idiot Winters. Or I would have, had the traffic not screeched to a halt, and again, was I lucky to have secured a grip on the brake pedal, and keep from crashing.
“Great, you had to wreck the morning for everyone didn’t you?” I spat out while applying the handbrake with difficulty. Three fingers on each hand merging into hooves now, the remaining pinkie finger and thumb still there, but of lesser use and dexterity.
Taking this chance to adjust the seating as best I could with my growing body, I did succeed in moving it back all the way it could and lowered enough to be manageable, if not comfortable. But not without casualty.
The sound of tearing and shredding fabric hadn’t gone unnoticed while I’d made certain I could keep driving, and leaning back in the lowered backrest, my barrelled and bare chest was clearly in view, every button blown loose, the blouse shredded on one sleeve and down the back. As I discarded its remnants to the back, did I take note that my jeans were just as ruined, the seam failed down the outer leg, and split in two thanks to my wide frame.
In fact now, once the jean scraps joined the blouse, rather than resting in the seat, my legs were perched on its outer edges, and with the kicking free of my boots (to leave myself without clothing) did it become clear just how far along I had come.
A soft whinny escaped me when I saw my feet, now completely a horse’s hind leg. And leaning forward again and looking back, I found I could swish my tail behind me, more whinnying laughter resulting from this.
“I wish that my transformation be halted at this point, so that it proceed no further unless I state otherwise.” I saw fit to halt the transformation of myself as I looked at what used to be my hand, now a hard hoof with a bit of shrivelling thumb far back.
In the mirror, my head now resembling very much that of a Clydesdale Mare, atop the thick neck, a long face, brown with a white stripe running down the muzzle, and a thick black mane as long as my hair had been.
“Well Jenny, you could get used to this.” I said to myself only half in jest while rubbing circles over my dark brown flank, waiting for the accident to clear so I could get moving again, and deal with Jeanne when the time came.