As the minutes ticked by, so too did the effort of maintaining control of my new car increase in difficulty, horses clearly not being what the car designers had ever intended to even be inside the metallic confines, let along in the drivers seat. The hoofed foot that now wrapped clumsily over the gas pedal to maintain forward momentum alongside the other traffic that made the morning commute with the shoes and socks pushed away by their growth.
So too, was my suit tearing. Buttons blasting loose from the blouse and jacket, the deep-barrelled chest pushing ever outwards. The mare’s teats digging into the waistline of my skirt, until it was also ripped from me thanks to my own widening hips, the new tail tugging on my spine, pressed into the seat.
The attempt to slide the drivers seat back presented a new challenge, for the lengthened, hoofed hand could no more grasp the lever. Many clumsy swings passed before a sufficiently-solid purchase permitted its moving back to its limit, thus granting temporary reprieve against my own growing body.
As the blouse and jacket, shredded in two from my back’s swelling, fell to join its fallen brethren, did my thoughts begin to turn back to the Pedigree Jackass, the one whom I had made so, now most likely grazing aside the freeway at this time. Devoid of the obligations of his life, only with the need to feed and mate, the massive eqine shaft he would now…
“…No!” I yelled. “That, is Wrong!” Before a now-forearm came afront my muzzle.
Had I? Spoken that aloud?
“I, can still speak.” I confirmed the fact, both forelegs now rested awkwardly over the steering wheel, enough to keep within the lane.
With the side and rear-view mirror, combined with the risked glance down when such a chance could be afforded, did I see how far I had progressed. Were it not for the shortened spine, and indeed, the general lack of size that kept me inside my Buick, I would be at this time indistinguishable from a Clydesdale Mare. As I had wished, a thick mane, black as the night, fur of deep brown, with a white stripe down the front of my new equine muzzle, and my new fetlocks.
“But can he…?” I asked aloud to myself, new concern beginning to creep into my mind.
If he, Mr Anxious, the Pedigree Jackass, were to retain his capacity for speech, then that would bode most ill for him were the wrong types to learn of this. Or perhaps it were simply a matter of the incompleteness of my own becoming my sordid fantasy that enabled myself to continue with human speech?
Whatever the reasoning, my widened vision too stock of the road ahead, the turn so shortly ahead that would send me from this highway, into the city limits, to my place of work, if only I were to take the next turn off.
“And yet…” My mind wandered yet once again to the handsome Jackass, sticky liquid sent from my enlarged labia to stain the seat I struggled to remain upon. “N-no. do not think such a thing.” I commanded myself, yet, the effort was weakened from prior.
Yet in turn, did I think of the fields not too far from where I was. Where, if I were to remain on this road for longer, I could exit two turns later and bring myself to, to run free, to care not for taxes, and shopping, and phones, and irate Managers.
"Focus." A hard shake of my long head, mane wafting from one side to the next as my head as cleared, did the decision become clear…