“You cannot be serious,” George said for what seemed like the hundredth time, as he walked stormily behind you on the road. “This is not going to work!” You rolled your eyes as you gently tossed one of the horseshoes up in the air. You had George smuggle two of them out under his shirt. The bar had plenty of horseshoes, they wouldn’t notice that two were missing.
George continued to complain: “And even if it does, what if I turn into a horse completely? Like I lose my human brain for good? Or what if I rip the socks? Then we’re all completely screwed!”
You raise your hand to silence George. “Look, you’re right, I have no idea if this is going to work. I have my doubts, too. But I want to try it! I had the idea, and if it works, look out.”
“Well if you want to try it, then you do it!”
You shake your head. “I’m still controlling what you wear. Truth be told, this is why I made the deal with you. I just want to see if horseshoes will work with these socks.”
“I just really don’t want to do this. And why did you buy a saddle? I’ve never even ridden a horse, have you?” Still in the body of the chubby construction worker, George’s wavering voice sounded strange.
You laugh. “I was joking about the saddle. And *I* haven’t ever ridden a horse, but,” you gesture at your body, “this guy has. He knows what to do. Hey, if this works out, we can make some scratch on the side giving rides to the neighborhood kids on their birthday parties,” you beamed. George glared at you as you both walked past a wooded area.
“Alright, you ready?” you said, pointing. “Let’s try it over there.”
“Here?! Now!?” George exclaimed. “What if someone walks by and sees us?”
“We’ll hide behind the trees. Oh, and you should probably take off your clothes.”
George looked alarmed. “All of them?!”
“Oh, *now* you’re bashful about that? Come on, you don’t have to go all the way. If it doesn’t work you can get dressed again and we’ll just go home and have a beer. C’mon, let’s go!”
George shook his head. “No way, man. There’s too many things that can go wrong here. And...hey!” You pulled George’s shirt up over his head, revealing his flabby, hairy stomach. He squirmed, allowing you to pull the shirt off completely. You push George’s bare back, forcing him to walk until you were both behind a large tree.
Defeated, George threw his arms up. “Fine. This is still a horrible idea but let’s get it over with.” George stripped down to his boxers as you laid the horseshoes down on the ground. After folding his pants on the ground and setting his shoes on top, he slipped the socks on. “How’d you expect this to work, anyway? You’re not hammering those to my feet.”
You shrug. “I guess all you can really do is stand on them.”
George tentatively balanced one socked foot on a horseshoe, then the other. Shaking, he watched for changes like a hawk. There was a rustling in the trees surrounding them. “What was that?!” he said, looking around.
“The wind. Chillax.”
His legs shaking, George scoured his body for any changes for another thirty seconds. After this time, he visibly relaxed and looked up at you. “Nothing. Thanks for playing.”
“Give it more time,” you said.
You both waited another thirty seconds. George shrugged. “Hope you weren’t expecting a ride home from me.” George took a step towards you, then froze. The horseshoe was stuck to his foot! George’s eyes bugged out as he wildly shook one foot, then the other. Both horseshoes were not coming off. “Oh God oh God oh God! I’m changing!” he cried.
You quickly squatted down and looked closely at George’s feet. Though they were still covered by the socks, you could tell they were wider and shorter. Reaching out, you could feel they were becoming very hard. “You have hooves! It’s working!” you exclaimed.
“Whoop de freakin’ do!” George roared. “What’s going to happen to me?!”
“I… don’t know,” you said. You were just as surprised as George. Staring at George’s legs, you saw the muscle and fat (mostly fat) on his calves dissipating, while his thighs and upper legs began to expand with dense muscle. George’s underwear looked like it was very tight on him, and in a panic, he tried to pull them off. He struggled to get them below his thighs, but once he did, they simply fell to his lengthening ankles.
Looking behind him, George gaped open-mouthed at his expanding rear-end as his tailbone poked out of his skin. “Ohh!” you both exclaimed. “Does that hurt?” you ask.
George shook his head, but he still put his hand to his mouth and looked like he was going to hurl. At that moment short hairs burst from George’s skin from his waist down, mostly brown with occasional patches of white.
“What the f--” George took a step towards you and reacted as his leg bent in the wrong direction. “Holy--” George tumbled and wound up in a heap on the forest floor. He was quite a sight, a nude fat man, with the ever-growing legs of a horse sticking in the air. As you stared up George’s butt (with how he was sprawled on the ground you couldn’t really look anywhere else), long black hairs erupted from his tailbone as his muscle and skeleton changes reached their end.
You both remained silent as the horseshoes fell from the end of George’s feet, signifying the end of the changes. George had only turned into a horse from the waist down!
“Shit,” you breathed in awe. George was trying to get up but couldn’t make his knees bend in the right direction. “Wait, stop rolling, you’ll rip the socks,” you told George. You reached out and pulled the magic socks off, revealing George’s new dark gray hooves. “All right.” You braced George, helping him stand. At his new height, he was a good foot and a half taller. Your head now only came up to George’s nipples. He put his arms out to balance himself as his tail twitched behind him.
Taking a careful step, George felt, or rather didn’t feel, how it was to stand on hooves. He stared at his body in wonder. “I’m a centaur,” he said quietly.
You were about to tell him centaurs still had four legs but you decided against it. “How did it all feel?” you asked instead.
“It didn’t hurt,” he said. “I mean, once I got all my clothes off, it actually felt pretty good. And look,” he said, carefully making steps to turn and face you. He reached down. “I’m still a man,” he said, wagging a certain appendage in your direction. You shut your eyes and look away.
“Why don’t you check that again, George,” you said. George looked down. It turned out, the horseshoes had belonged to a gelding.
“Aw, man,” he muttered. His tail swished with annoyance.