“What the bloody hell!?” I glared at my new lower half. “What — what did you *do* to me!?”
She looked up, raising an eyebrow, her hand still on my rear. “And here I thought you were smart,” she said.
I glared at her. “Why the hell did you turn me into — into *this*!?”
She shrugged, loosing her hand from me and starting to walk up beside me. “You wanted to know my secret, and we couldn’t risk having you spill the beans, so now you’re one of us too.”
“I don’t wanna be a *horse*!”
“Centaur,” she said, turning around to face me.
“I don’t want to be that either!” I stomped a hoof, and then realized I was stomping a hoof and stared at it, aghast.
“Listen. You’ve been trying to get into my pants for months,” she said darkly. “You had *zero* chance of that, because to state the obvious, I don’t wear pants. But as of right now, your chances of getting under my tail went from zero to a very tiny number. So I recommend you shut up, stop bitching, and consider the upsides of your current situation, hmm?”
I slapped my forehead. “I’m insane. This is all a dream. I need to sober up and wake up and — ”
Selina stood, arms akimbo, waiting for me to realize that her shirt was in her hand, and not on her torso, and that she wasn’t wearing a bra. I paused, staring, and the words choked off.
“Now then,” she said, “first off, unlike you humans, we only wear clothes when it’s cold or for protection. And right now, I’m still warm enough after that hike that it feels damn good to get this off.
“Secondly,” she added, “you can see without my shirt that this is for real. It’s a smooth blend from top to bottom, and at no point am I just Selina on top and a horse on the bottom. That’s *all* me, from head to tail.” She waved a hand over her body as if revealing a prize on a game show.
“Third,” she continued, “when I took off my shirt just now, that’s because I thought it might be fun to follow the human convention where showing you my tits means I like you. A *lot*.
“Finally,” she said, stomping a hoof to prove the point, “either way, you’re stuck. There’s no going back. So you can either learn to like it, or shut the hell up about it. I *recommend* you learn to like it. If you want, you can keep whining about what you are now, or you can be the cute guy I thought just might actually be into having a centauress for a girlfriend, and maybe more.”
She slowly pivoted in place, and then looked back over her shoulder at me. “Personally, I’d choose *more*,” she said, and turned away, flicking her hair and tail both at me. She walking away with her tail held high, and swished it back and forth so that there could be no doubt in my mind what she meant when she said *more*.