First off, I was born quite human with what would be a 'typical' human name, and I grew up like a typical human. At twenty years of age (twelve years ago) is where I started to deviate from the norm: I was diagnosed with cancer. One out of one hundred thousand. Hodgekin's disease; cancer of the lymph nodes. My prognosis was not stellar, for other internal organs were involved. Chemotherapy was promptly started for me, but it was just about as bad as the disease; I could taste it, kind of like licking fifty stamps all at once, and it left me with an acute case of nausea. What I did to help eleviate this was to take a long, hot bath, which worked to a degree, at least there was water to wash away stuff. So my parents had an established routine for my therapy days; Dad would get off work early and pick me up and drop me off home (bath time), then pick up Mom. During a soak, I was alone (normal), sick (normal), and feeling depressed (normal). "Geez, " I thought, "What a situation. How are you going to get out of this?" I shrugged to myself, fighting down a wave of sick. Ok, this is just a phase, I'll get over it! C'mon, concentrate! Work it out! It was during this that I eventually fell asleep, as I often did. I loose concentration, my mind wanders, and snooooooore!
* * *
I awoke with a start, maybe a snort (I inherited snoring). The lights were out! I was cold! Taking a look around, I was outside!! What the hell?!? I am in no condition to be outside! When I looked down at myself, that is when I saw them: breasts! I knew that some of my medication was steroids, but nothing that extreme happened, not yet at least! But looking past them, I didn't see my legs! Panic was starting to set in. When I started to get up, I felt that there was more of me. I turned around, and there the rest of me was! HORSE?!?!
Now wait a minute, how was I able to get up so easily? Waist down, I was a horse, no, collectively the term was centaur. Ok, centaur. Looking at what I could see, my arms were less hairy, no chest hair. Feeling my face, no stubble. Oh, man! I knew that some hair loss is normal for chemo, but I hardly lost any! I twitched my hindquarters, trying to feel anything unusual and felt nothing.
I started to feel faint again. I mean I can only take so much. So upon sitting down, I took a look at where I was, which was a park I've been to only once, but I knew it was a few miles away from home. Naked and somewhat cold, I started home, always on the look for some rags to cover my torso with, for I didn't want to get stopped for indecent exposure! The next few hours were interesting, to coin the curse. Finding an old sweater wasn't too hard, fitting into it was! I was bigger than normal before, but now it was nearing ludicrous, but thankfully not too much... 'enhancement'. I had to backtrack several times to avoid police and anybody else for that matter. Luckily, it was a warm, clear night, I saw some constellations, but they seemed a bit out of place.
"Oh, well, I'm am just freaked out right now," I thought, "Just get home."
I still had no idea as to what time it was. In May, here in Portland, Oregon, It got dark somewhat late, but it was totally dark, no sunlight atmosphere at all. I was able to pick up a paper and notice that it was August 8th, my birthday! Egad! Where did the time go?!? I was in even more of a hurry to get home, now!
Finally I got home and there were some lights on. Good! They can help me! But what to say? Looking at myself, even I was lacking for words. In fact, I was starting to tear up. A lot happened to me.
Summoning all my courage, I clopped up to the doorway and rang the bell. Ding-Dong! A light came on, I saw someone using the peephole.
"Hello?" Came the voice of my mother as she opened the door, "Can I help you?"
"Hi, mom, it's me." I answered, smiling, hoping, "It's my birthday?"
Never before have I seen my mother's face turn in such a rage.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" she screamed.
She looked at more of me and yelled, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU?!"
"But Mom," I tried to say, "Please . . ."
"How DARE you come her and say . . . !"
"Mom, please . . ."
"Get out of here!"
"Please, it's getting cold."
"LEAVE!!"
As she was saying so, she threw a black cloth at me, hitting me full in the face, then slamming the door shut.
"bbut . . . it's my birthday?"
Taking the cloth (a shirt) of off my head, the tears that were forming, burst forth into a torrent of sobbing. Using the shirt as a handkerchief, I started down the street, sobbing, with the sounds of distant traffic and the clopping of my hooves as my companions.