It had been nearly 40 years since the Sixth Great Extinction. The first five had all been natural events precipitated by the impact of huge rocks from space. The sixth one had been different. Humankind had done it all by themselves. Initially, it had been pollution and environmental degradation. But in the end, out-of-control biological attacks by terrorists had started the rapid destruction of much of the planet’s life.
The high tech regions survived the attack far better than the less developed areas. Businesses were scavenged for engineering staff and trades people and within a few weeks the first food algae tanks were set up. Synthetic food, not the most palatable but edible and sustaining, became a part of the lives of those who managed to survive the collapse. The people of the developed countries blamed the countries that harbored the terrorists and, lumping anyone not of their own ancestry into that group, refused aid. The results were predictable. Wars began in much of the mid-East that quickly died, as the armies could no longer be fed. The collapse of most of the governments left huge starving populations eying the lands of Europe with their synthetic food hungrily. When the situation got bad enough, of course, the developed countries decided they had no option but self-defense and used their horded stockpiles of nuclear and chemical weapons to eradicate the problem. The few in those regions that managed to survive the collapse and the extermination would likely never forgive those that had attacked them. Of course, they were but few and weak and there were other priorities for the countries that managed to survive.
Once the period of chaos was behind them, those surviving nations began rebuilding. On the positive side, genetic laboratories everywhere had uncontaminated DNA stocks for most of the world’s species. Unfortunately, there was no longer the vast breeding stock to attempt to recreate the necessary biological diversity. The only species left in any large number was humanity and it was to this stock the world governments turned. Everyone was conscripted for several years to be modified into semi-human forms to bear the replacement stock for animals that no longer existed but that were essential to recreate the world’s biota. The transformation laws remained in force even after the initial need was over and young adults continued to be conscripted to spend three years in the Biodiversity Corps before they were allowed to proceed with the rest of their lives.
The one-time unusual sight of numerous semi-human transformees on the streets soon became commonplace and they were little noticed. These same modified humans resulted in major business opportunities. Some companies supplied the tools required by the semi-humans, others hired the semi-humans to perform specialized tasks that only they could perform. People, lured by the high pay of these commercial ventures, became semi-human again under contract rather than as part of the Biodiversity Corps.
Janet had graduated after four years (the usual time) with a BCom. She, of course, found a position (a very junior position) with a local company. The work, such as it was, was pretty simplistic. After learning all the powerful techniques of modern computer assisted business, it was quite a comedown to be working the lowest rung of a business. It seemed all so demeaning. Janet wanted to be boss and soon. She definitely did not wish to stay some minor cog buried deep in a corporate machine. To become a boss would take money and a lot of it. Unfortunately, there were no easy opportunities for making that kind of money.
Of course, Janet knew one way to make the money she needed. She’d suffered through her time in BDC and really had no desire whatever to go back there again. But, as the months went on without any real prospect of getting the money she wanted in any legal way and with the speed she desired and definitely no quick advancement in the hide-bound company she was with, the commercial transformation avenue began to look more and more palatable.
One day, when her boss had laid into her again for no apparent reason, she decided she’d had enough. She was going to make her fortune as a transformee and come back as his boss. See how he liked that turn of events.
It didn’t take long to find any number of potential transformation companies. She spent several evenings looking over their websites and chatting with previous transformees. One, in particular, seemed to have the best possible reputation. It specialized in recreating exotic things that weren’t part of the usual BDC mandate (she hated being a Kimodo Dragon for a year and being a Crocodile the year following was just as bad). She realized that she’d have no control over what they made her. That was obvious but she didn’t mind. Being a racehorse or cheetah or tiger sounded interesting. Better still, the people, after their contracts were finished, seemed remarkably satisfied and some had even signed on for multiple contracts. That was very unusual.
Deciding that the “Racer’s Edge” was the best choice, she made an appointment. Strangely enough, they had an opening the next day and were willing to meet her at a restaurant over lunch. Janet found herself as excited by the prospect of this transformation as she had dreaded her first transformation in her BDC days. It wasn’t just that this was something she wanted to do but there was an excitement at “Racer’s Edge” that was apparent even over the phone.
That excitement was almost palpable as she met the handsome young man from their recruiting department. It seemed that they specialized in recreating the racing animals from before the Great Extinction. They were working to create racing ponies, quarter horses, trotters and a any number of truly exotic racing species ranging from greyhounds to jumping frogs. Janet hoped she wasn’t signing up to become one of those, of course. But even a frog was preferable to having to deal with the Neanderthal management style of her current supervisor. It didn’t even take Janet ten minutes after the meal (paid by “Racer’s Edge”, of course) to sign the contract. They gave her a month to wrap up her affairs before having to report to their primary transformation center.
Janet truly enjoyed telling her boss that she was leaving for another company. He was the type that assumed no one could ever want to work for anyone but him. He offered her a small raise (miniscule by the standards of the contract she’d just signed) and even offered her a minor advancement. When she smiled and refused his offer, he took it in stride and wished her well. This left Janet somewhat annoyed as she’d hoped for a different response. Still she’d soon get hers back when she started a rival company that made more money than this one. She remembered to put all her belongings into long-term storage … three years was a long time and keeping the apartment and things as they were that whole time when she couldn’t use them was a waste of money.
On the appointed day, she took a cab to the “Racer’s Edge” transformation center. Her car had joined everything else in the storage garage so it was that or public transit. An excited young woman met her at the door.
“Oh I’m so glad you’re here early,” she bubbled. “You’re going to be such an important part of our new program.”
“I, uh, thank you,” Janet didn’t know what to say. The BDC operators hadn’t been anything other than bored.
“It’s a whole new line. We’ve made some changes to the basic racehorse transform. You won’t have to change completely any more.”
“I don’t understand,” Janet was confused.
BDC transformations were nearly total. According to the operators, they had to be or the resulting animal wouldn’t be able to breed true. At best you might see a patch of somewhat human skin or a hint in the eyes of the individual that had been.
“You’ll see,” the woman insisted. “Oh, by the way, I’m your transformation tech Gina Kithandra. Just call me Gina.”
“I’m Janet,” responded Janet automatically.
“Yes, I know,” she giggled. Janet frowned slightly. This one seemed a bit flighty. “Anyway, your change room is in there,” she pointed to a door. “The containment suit is already in there for you. It’ll take a whole series of transformations for you to get into your final form.”
Now Janet wasn’t overweight by any means but she wasn’t one of the skinny model types that were once again strutting their stuff on the fashion runways. The suit began to apply pressure and Janet could feel the slightly liquid feel as the nannites were released into the suit. Soon, she was in better shape than she’d been in many years. One might even say sexy. She exited the suiting area to meet the still smiling transformation tech.
“Great! Glad to see the suit worked so well!” she beamed. “I know you’ve had some experience with those old BDC suits but these are new and a lot different.” Janet could only nod her agreement. “Your transformation will be different, too. We let you have more adjustment time. BDC never gave people enough time to adapt. I think the longest they’d let a transformation sequence go on was about four maybe five days. You’ll be happy to hear that you’ll be changing slowly for nearly three weeks. That’ll be easier on you than a fast TF.”
“Thank you for that mercy.”
Janet replied remembering all too well the distortion wrought by the BDC transformation. It had been painful and the painkillers and muscle relaxants they’d given everyone had done little to alleviate the feeling that she was in some kind of medieval torture chamber.
“Can’t have our star racers start their new lives in pain. Takes too long to get them going and running. Of course, the suit you are in now is only a temporary suit. We fit your final suit in a far better way when you are ready for the first actual treatments.”
“Can I ask what I’ve volunteered to become?”
“A pony girl.”
“Like those odd women that dress as horses?” Janet was puzzled.
You didn’t need a TF suit for that kind of thing. If all she was doing was growing a tail and hooves that couldn’t take three weeks.
“No, more like a centaur. Of course, part of your job will be in our breeding area. We’re trying to recreate the fast racehorses of the past centuries, you see. So there are genetic mods as well as physical ones.” Janet merely nodded. The BDC had done similar things to her genetics. The changes had all been erased afterwards (or so she hoped). “You’ll end up more horse than human by the time we’re done. We’ll keep your original pattern in ultrasafe storage for when you leave us at the end of your contract.”
That, too, was standard. The government had long standing laws concerning the entire transformation industry after a number of unfortunately permanent changes to people in the infancy of the technology. There was still a viable breeding colony of merfolk on the Great Barrier Reef as a result of those early transformations.
“Let’s get started,” Janet wasn’t completely happy with having to go through this whole process again but it was the only way to get enough money to get her business started.
“Ok then. Let’s get you to the TF Center then.”
She was led to a comfortable room down the corridor. It was far more comfortable than anything she’d been in with the BDC. Gina, before she left, told her that she’d be in the temporary suit until they had completed the analysis of her genetic material over the next few days. She spent the time surfing the Internet, enjoying some trivid movies and relaxing.
Four days later, Gina returned to collect Janet. They wandered down the white tiled corridor. It still reminded Janet more of a hospital than some kind of lab. The BDC stations had been more like disused barracks than anything livable. Probably pretty close to the truth, Janet thought wryly. After ten minutes or so, her guide palmed a biometric lock and a door slid aside. Janet found herself in a room with a strange apparatus in its center. It reminded Janet of one of those spray-on tanning booths more than anything else.
“Our technique is considerably different than BDC’s, of course. They still use the old technology but we have to keep up with the times. The older methods are too slow and too costly in terms of materials. Instead of measuring you and then fitting a suit from standard components, we’re just going to spray a perfect fit on. About the only things we’re going to do in the way of addon components is to fit you with biogel appliances to give you someplace to grow into and the material for your new body to do that.”
“Biogel?”
“One of our inventions. It’s basically a form of synthetic living material. It’s alive but inert so your body won’t reject it. We use it to create the space you’ll grow into in your new body. As you develop into it, your body absorbs it. At the end of each phase, it’ll be gone and you’ll have replaced it with your own cells.”
“So what kind of changes are in store for my first stage?” Janet was becoming curious. This was so different than the BDC where the suits fit poorly to allow room for changes. As a result, they were clumsy to get around in and almost useless for containment by the time the TFs were done. The final stages of each TF were usually in containment rooms as a result. Basically solitary confinement with nothing but an old flat-screen TV for company.
“Mostly cosmetic. We’re adding a tail and ears. Though there are some structural ones, too We’ll also be converting your legs to a horse’s rear legs. You’ll end up a satyr with horse’s hooves instead of a goat’s.”
“Will I still be able to walk?”
“Throughout the whole change. That’s the beauty of this new technique. In each stage, you will remain viable and mobile. Saves a lot of problems. You’ll have to get used to balance changes at each stage though. That’s only reasonable. After all, you’ve never had hooves before.”
“That’s true enough. I guess we should get started.”
“Are you shy?”
“Why do you ask?”
“The fitting process works best when you are completely nude. We can do it totally automated but it’ll go faster if there’s someone to observe the process and monitor how things are going. It means a better fit, too.”
“Well, I suspect it won’t matter in a short while anyway. Go ahead, I don’t mind an observer.”
“Good enough.”
Gina quickly injected the temporary suit through a port with something in inactivate the nannites. After a few minutes, she indicated Janet could disrobe. Janet stripped off the temporary containment suit and looked about half expecting someone to join them immediately. Gina, noticing her apprehensiveness, smiled.
“First we need to fit the appliances.”
Gina fitted a strange helmet on Janet’s head and a pair of metal cylinders to her legs. She then attached a smaller metal cup to the small of Janet’s back with tape. She connected these up to a series of tubes that ran into an apparatus in the corner.
“You’ll have to keep still for the next few minutes.” Janet merely nodded and tried to keep still. “I’ll go for the TF Tech. I’ll send him in while I go draw up the first stage nannites.” Gina announced after what seemed an eternity.
Janet was at first worried about a strange man seeing her totally nude but, when ‘he’ appeared, it was apparent he wasn’t the least interested in her. He was part human and part dog and clearly the electronics was his only priority. He unclamped the strange metal components and Janet was surprised to see a semi-transparent but apparently very hard material encasing her legs. The feet had been extended and it was plain there were hooves at the bottoms. She didn’t doubt that something similar had been added to her back and over her ears as well.
The technician efficiently and quietly helped Janet from the molding equipment and held the door open as she entered the second chamber. The technician closed the door and quickly made some adjustments. There was a sharp hiss as the chamber sealed. He grunted “Stand with your legs apart. On the two white foot marks on the floor.” Once Janet had complied, he proceeded with “Now put on the face mask.” For the first time, Janet noticed a strange plastic mask with air hoses attached to the wall. She pulled it towards her and put on the mask. It covered everything save her hair and ears. She could hear him walk over to her and he made a few adjustments to the mask. After a few minutes of faint switch clicks and some keyboard taps, he spoke again “Hold your breath,” he stated flatly. Janet did so and heard a loud electronic click. A hissing sound and a feeling of warm fluid being sprayed on her entire body began. After a few moments, the hissing stopped. “You’re done,” he announced and had left the room before she could remove her mask. A few moments later, Janet turned as a second door opened and Gina returned with a large cylinder containing a swirling liquid. The nannites.
“You’re ready?”
“I guess so,” Janet stated. A spray on containment suit was hardly what she expected after her BDC experience. Gina nodded and carefully inserted the tip into a small nipple in the middle of Janet’s tummy. The fluid was cold and Janet could feel it start to flow outward from the injection site between the suit and her skin.
“Ok, now let’s get you off to the stables.”
Janet assumed she was kidding and was startled when they left the hospital building and wandered across the lot towards what was obviously a barn. Gina turned her over to another woman.
“I’m Lianna, your trainer. I’m here to help you adjust to your new form. After that, I’ll be here to get you ready for racing, too. There’s quite a bit of money to be made at the tracks.”
“Racing? I’ve never been that fast on my feet,” Janet protested. At best, she’d been a mediocre runner – for exercise rather than competition.
“Oh you will be. Your new form is more than half racehorse and based on the best racehorse DNA we could find. I guarantee you’ll be fast. I’ll help make sure of that speed while keeping you uninjured. Wouldn’t do to have you hurt in training.”
“Oh,” was all Janet could think to stay. To tell the truth, she was exhausted simply walking from the hospital or lab or whatever it was. The biogel appliances made her feel like she was continually walking on tiptoes and tilted forward to boot.
“Now let’s see,” Lianna consulted her PDA. “Your in 18a. Remember that please. That’s your room for the next few years.”
Janet nodded and followed Lianna down the barn’s corridor. She looked left and right as they passed each room. They weren’t rooms though. They were clean stalls with a sleeping pallet of straw and feeding troughs.
“Now wait a minute. I’m no animal!” protest Janet.
“For the duration of your contract, you will be. You are becoming a horse, to be raced and be bred by whichever stud we feel will best produce optimum results. That’s was all in your contract.”
“But I…”
“You were given over a month to read the contract. Didn’t you even check it?”
“Well, uh, no. Just the time period and the payoff.”
“Basically, you’ve agreed to act as a racing brood mare for three years. You’ll live in a stall and be treated like the animal you will shortly become. It would be too difficult for you and everyone else if we tried to build other facilities to handle each project.”
“But straw?”
“The containment suit will protect you from the straw until you develop a thick enough hide. Once your transformation is complete, we’ll start you on getting in shape. I expect your first race will be in six months. Now we can’t keep calling you by a human name if you are an animal. I think we’ll have to come up with something. You do look good in red. How about Redraven?”
“I prefer…”
“Animals have no preferences in this matter, Redraven,” she checked the stall number once again and stepped aside, indicating Janet now Redraven should enter. “Now you’d best get comfortable. I’ll return in an hour or so to get you into some light exercise.”
Redraven (Janet decided she’d best get used to the new name as quickly as possible) stepped gingerly into the stall. It smelled clean and, in a strange way, unused. She stepped around, nearly falling a couple of times (Damn! It was going to take a long time to get used to walking on hooves). After the hospital room, this was definitely a comedown. Three years in a stall? She hoped that she could take it for she really wanted the business seed money.
In less than an hour, Lianna returned with a leather bridle.
“This is yours,” she stated and slid it over Redraven’s face. A bit slid between her teeth. When Redraven protested, Lianna just laughed. “Just part of the contract. You have to learn to wear one if you are going to race. Part of the Racing Commission rules.”
“Uh,” grunted Redraven biting down on the uncomfortable leather bit.
“Ok, Now follow me.”
Lianna attached a lead to the chin of her bridle and led Redraven from her stall. Redraven stumbled a few times before getting out of the barn and even more times as the clumsy and unfeeling biogel feet caught stones and branches. Eventually, they reached a large circular sandy area with a pole at its center. Suspended from the top of the pole was a horizontal brace. There was some kind of motor at its base and a weight on the far side of the circle. Lianna attached Redraven’s bridle to the side away from the weight and left the circle.
“We’ll start you slow but I want you up to a slow trot before this exercise is finished,” she stated and a click announced that the motor at the center of the circle had started.
Redraven felt a tug on her bridle and found herself pulled forward. She had to walk slowly to keep pace with the turning of the equipment. She stumbled a fair bit at first but was soon able to keep upright and maintain her balance. Liana returned a few minutes later and pressed another button. Redraven felt the tug again on her bridle and found she had to pick up her pace to keep up with the bar. Over the next half hour, the speed automatically increased again and again until Redraven found herself having to jog to keep up with the equipment. After fifteen minutes at the fastest setting, bar began to slow down until Redraven was once more walking. Lianna returned soon afterwards and stopped the machine.
“That was a very good start, Redraven. You obviously kept yourself in shape before. That will make things much easier. Now it’s time for a bit of relaxation.”
Redraven found herself led from the exercise ring to a warm jet bath. It was soothing and she thoroughly enjoyed it. All too soon though, Liana returned and snapped the lead back onto her bridle. This time, she was silently returned her to her stall, the lead was removed and she ordered her to stay in her stall and rest.
At first, Redraven complied but it was boring. Surely they couldn’t expect her to just stand or sit about here like some dumb animal? Well, others might put up with it but she’d not. She stepped out of the stall and headed towards the main door. Unexpectedly, it wasn’t locked at all. Redraven pushed the door open and stepped gingerly out onto the grassy verge.
She wasn’t tired and definitely wasn’t about to stare at pine boards for the rest of the evening. She began by slowly walking out towards a copse of trees and, when she felt she was up to it, she picked up the pace. It wasn’t long before the fact that she’d not been born with hooves was of little concern. She was running as fast as she’d ever run on her jaunts around the park near her apartment, maybe even faster. Reluctantly, after over an hour exploring, she decided she’d best get back to the stable. She didn’t know (because she hadn’t bothered to check) what the penalties would likely be for disobeying the trainer. Deciding she’d best not waste any time, she pushed herself and sprinted into the barn, nearly running into Lianna.
“Redraven! You naughty girl! You were supposed to stay and let your nannites do their work. Tomorrow would be soon enough to try faster paces. Now off to bed with you. Tomorrow you rise with the sun!”
Redraven was relieved that her disobedience had been so lightly dealt with. She strutted to her stable, proud of her speed. Lianna, too, smiled and made a note on her PDA. She’d been watching Redraven during her entire jaunt and was excited by some of the times she’d recorded. They had the makings of a winner in this one!
The next morning Redraven awoke on her straw pallet and discovered she was stiff and her feet hurt. Lianna seemed to expect this when she arrived.
“Hurting a little are you? Not surprised after that performance yesterday. Well, we can fix that in a jiffy.” She wandered out and returned with some steaming packs. “A little heat will have things set to rights soon enough.” True to her word, the extra warmth soon had Redraven’s legs and feet feeling fairly good. She got to her feet and stretched. “Your breakfast is waiting,” Lianna pointed to the trough filled with bits of fruit and what looked like oatmeal. At first, Redraven was going to protest but then decided that the final payoff would be worth a bit of humiliation. The breakfast, despite its unorthodox presentation, was satisfying and tasted good.
“Okay, back to your training circle,” Lianna was about to snap the lead on Redraven’s bridle.
“Uh uh,” she protested. “Guh Widout.”
“Sorry, rules,” Lianna replied and held up the lead. Redraven shrugged and allowed the lead to be snapped in place. She didn’t fight the lead nor the machine and soon found herself galloping in a circle behind the bar.
By evening, she returned to her stall, tired but happy with Lianna’s praise at her sprint times. She didn’t think about anything other than supper and sleeping. After her meal (yes at the trough again), she curled up in the sweet-smelling hay and was soon dreaming, dreaming of running and racing.
After four days of this level of training, Redraven was startled when Lianna actually announced a time and commented it was the fastest ever recorded for someone at her stage of the transformation process. Redraven was strangely pleased. After all, despite her purpose for becoming a racehorse being the money, running was slowly becoming all that mattered now. “We need to check things out at the main hospital again, I think,” Lianna flipped open her cell phone and dialed a number. A quick conversation filled with technical terms Redraven had never heard before was soon followed by the arrival of Gina.
“Time for your first full set of scans, so soon?” she beamed. “Follow me,” she took the lead and Redraven quietly followed her back across the paddock to the hospital. There, she was scanned by all kinds of medical equipment. The whole process was even more disorienting that the initial transformation followed by being stuck in a stall. In the end, Gina came back into the room, a wide smile on her face.
“Well, you’ve made unexpected progress. We’re going to have to refit your containment suit already. You weren’t scheduled for that for at least another three days.” Redraven just nodded and tilted her head towards the room she’d been sprayed in. Some time in the past few days, she’d discovered she was having trouble speaking. “Yes, eventually. We’ll have to get your old suit off first though. This way.”
Redraven followed her guide into a shower room and was left, her lead attached to a wall snap, standing in the middle of the room. A strange smelling spray misted in from all sides and soon her shiny red suit was sloughing off in waves. The walls of the shower were somewhat shiny and it gave Redraven a chance to get a look at herself. Changes had definitely occurred! She now sported a pair of long furred horses ears instead of her own and had light fur on the sides of her face and neck. The biggest surprise was the addition of a short tail that even now was beginning to show some hair growth. She’d forgotten about the metal cup at the small of her back. Her legs, as expected, were no longer even remotely human. They’d lengthened somewhat and only one toe remained with a large nail, the beginnings of a hoof. Even her heels were smaller than they’d been.
She was led from the shower, where warm air soon dried the remains of the cleaning liquid. She was then guided verbally along a walkway to another of the biogel molding machines. Once again, her legs were encased. To her surprise, this time she had two long bulges attached just below her tummy and her arms were encased, too. She wondered why they needed her arms covered but, as there appeared to be no one about to ask, she merely shelved the question until later.
No later opportunity presented itself because she was soon guided to a larger spray system and encased (except for her face again) in a new shiny red containment suit. Gina, appeared soon after the suit dried and helped her into the bridle. Snapping the lead on, she quickly led Redraven from the building. The bit made speech difficult and Redraven soon gave up trying to talk around it. Liana took the lead from Gina upon their arrival at the stable and quickly deposited her back in her stall with instructions to rest.
She had no trouble with that at all and was soon asleep in her hay. She awoke the next day, hungry but feeling very rested. Eating was a little more difficult without hands and she was forced to eat her breakfast directly from the trough rather than use her hands as she had in past. She’d decided that she’d do whatever was necessary to survive this experience and get her company started so that the minor inconvenience of eating like a horse was tolerable if not entirely desirable.
Training went on for the next few days and Redraven was happy at her continually improving times. She managed to shave nearly 15 seconds off her quarter mile times and Lianna calmly informed her that she’d likely shave a lot more off if she kept at it. The only annoyance in the entire period was an increasing feeling of pressure in her new tail that slowly became a pain. She made the fact known to Lianna who arranged a quick visit to the main lab for a suit adjustment. The reason for the pain soon became apparent. Her tail was starting to grow out and had no place to go. The adjustment was simple: they sealed the tail off at her back and let the hair out of the suit. She now had a luxuriant horse’s tail that she could swish about. For some unknown reason, this change made her very happy.
Redraven’s times, though, began to fall off in the later part of the week. The two bumps they attached in front were beginning to move about when she ran and this threw her balance off. Lianna, though, didn’t seem worried or angry. She’d obviously seen this kind of thing more than once and kept on encouraging Redraven’s performances regardless. Redraven had never had any mentor remotely like Lianna and responded to the positive strokes by doing her best.
At the end of the week, Lianna once more arranged for Redraven to visit the main facility. It was time for a new suit and Redraven was excited to see what changes had been made. She trotted over with Gina and, as the old suit was washed off, got a look at her reflection. The first thing she noticed was her new pair of legs. Though short (too short to reach the ground), they were definitely the beginnings of a second pair of horse legs. Her hind legs were definitely equine now complete with a large shiny hoof and splotched fur that covered her up to her waist. Her arms though were thin and, much to her annoyance, she no longer had hands. They looked like somewhat odd sticks attached to her shoulders. She could still move them but only with difficulty because, whenever she moved an arm, one of her new legs also moved. They were obviously linked.
The new suit was a bit of a surprise, too. Her arms were completely encased along her torso. She could no longer even think of moving them. The new legs, though, had a biogel mold created that lengthened them until they could touch the floor. Obviously, Redraven would soon have the use of all four of her horse legs when she ran. She hoped that the new legs would help get her times back to where they had been.
After a few more days with Lianna, Redraven began to feel a pressure in her hips and tummy. It was distinctly uncomfortable and the suit seemed stretched like a balloon that was too full of air. Once more she visited the suiting facility and was fitted with a new suit. This one was considerably looser in the gap between her new front legs and her back legs. Obviously, she would fill in the space over the next week or so. Her appetite grew enormously as well and Lianna, ever understanding, increased her rations. Once more though, her times fell and Redraven was more than a little distraught.. Lianna, though, seemed to be expecting this and helped her charge through her doldrums.
As the suit stretched out and filled, Redraven’s times began to improve again. They were nothing spectacular though being more than a half-minute off her best times. Redraven pushed herself to regain her speed but Lianna insisted she slow up and take things in stride. After all, major changes were happening to her body and this would obviously affect her times. The changes soon had the desired effect. By the middle of the third week, her times were back to what they’d been and she was soon surpassing her best times by many seconds.
When she finally broke the 45 second mark, Lianna began increasing the length of her runs until she was doing the full track. This required a different style than the sprints had but, as a runner in her previous life, she knew about pacing. As a horse, her times had not beaten any of the great racehorses such as Secretariat or Man O’War, of course, but her times were soon quite respectable. For some reason, this fact made Redraven unaccountably happy. She found running and getting ready for racing far more satisfying than anything she’d ever experienced.
The day came when her final containment suit was to be removed. Proudly, even almost haughtily, she trotted for the last time to the suiting facility. This time though, before they washed off the suit, they injected the bulge in her tummy with a nannite killing agent. From her days in the BDC, she knew she’d have to wait about for several hours before the little beasties that had changed her body were disposed of. It would involve any number of blood and urine tests too and she was prepared for that indignity. She was completely flabbergasted when the only test she had to undergo was to stand in some kind of scanner every five minutes. Less than three quarters of an hour later, she was informed that the nannites had all broken down and would clear her system over the next day or so.
For the last time, she stood before the chamber that would wash her containment suit away. For some reason, she was sad at the prospect. The shiny red suit had become a part of her life and she thought it looked sexy. She wondered whether she’d be able to have a running suit made that looked as sexy as the containment suit. Her new body, when it was revealed, was as sexy as the suit had been. A fine fur covered her entire body except her face with interesting cream and brown patches. Her black hooves almost shone. Even her ears were furred and she discovered she could move them about. Gina led her back to her stall and said goodbye for likely the last time until her contract was up. LIanna beamed at Redraven’s new form. Now training would begin in earnest.
The next few weeks were intense and become even more intense when Redraven learned her first race was coming up. She daily shaved seconds off her best times and loved the attention Lianna and her stable mates gave her over those achievements. She returned the praise when one of them beat one of their times, too. There was a feeling of kinship and camaraderie throughout the stables and Lianna and the other trainers did their best to encourage it.
At first, training was as it had always been, the pony girls against their own best times. One day, though, Lianna appeared carting a saddle. Redraven was a bit surprised at this. Lianna merely informed her that the rules required a jockey. Her jockey was a small, high-strung fellow name Kirk. Within a few days, though, the pair of them had worked out the kinks in their racing relationship and Redraven enjoyed his firm guidance. That Kirk managed to help her shave ten seconds off her times helped too.
Soon, she and Kirk were racing against other pairs. At first, Redraven was in the middle of the pack but she soon got the feel of the track. Kirk taught her tactics that, although they might not increase her speed, would make a difference in winning races.
The day of her first race, Redraven was led to a horse trailer and secured. The ride, though a bit bumpy, didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. When she learned that betting was allowed, she had Lianna place a bet on her behalf (on herself, of course). Then she waited in a small stall until her race came up. When the time came, she was lined up with other ponygirls (and even ponyboys). All had been modified in the same way Redraven had. She kept silent even when others whinnied to her. She had a race to win and small talk was something she had no time for.
She wasn’t first off the mark, of course, and found herself lagging behind the lead. Try as she might, she couldn’t close the gap. He and his jockey were just too fast, too savvy. Lianna, though, was ecstatic at her second place finish. Even Kirk was beaming. Redraven found out why when she stopped berating herself for not winning. She’d beaten her best times by over 8 seconds! Second place, in a first race, was exceptional performance. They made a party of the results at the stable that night with special treats for all the racers.
Redraven raced against Speedster (for that was the winning horse’s name) many times over the next few months. She eventually learned his style and how to counter it. The day came when she and Kirk managed to beat him out by a head. Redraven allowed herself a real celebration that night. Many races followed. Some she won, some she didn’t. Her record though was excellent. She was never farther back than third and more often than not first or second.
She was in her second year of her contract when Lianna appeared with news that she was obviously having trouble breaking. Redraven was being pulled from racing for a while. The second phase of her contract was about to begin: brood mare. Strangely, Redraven didn’t find the news all that upsetting. Maybe they were drugging her feed or maybe she wanted a family, she couldn’t tell. The idea of having a foal wasn’t that foreign and instead was quite welcome.
A few weeks later, her urine tests told them she was fertile and a meeting was arranged. She hoped that she’d have some choice in her partner but, just as in her BDC days, that choice was not to be. The ponyboy, who was introduced as Jerome’s Hope, was a fine specimen and the pair of them soon hit it off.
He was a bit reserved at first, merely rubbing up against her. She, on the other hand was less reserved. She felt a sudden need to urinate and she flashed her tail at him. This soon had an effect on Jerome’s Hope. He was soon sniffing about her rear and, in a quick movement, mounted her. She felt him penetrate and his pulsations increased until she felt the hot surge that told of his ejaculation. There was no great surge on her part and the entire episode was somewhat boring. She’d hoped for more and was surprised when she didn’t get it.
The next months saw her training times fall off and her girth increase. Carrying the foal definitely caused some changes in her racing. Redraven found herself increasingly annoyed by small things and found herself pawing at one patch of ground incessantly. The following spring, she gave birth to a fine filly. She was a little disappointed when she discovered her foal wasn’t a centaur but was, instead, a full horse. It was still hers though and was soon trotting at her side.
She tried to teach it everything she knew of racing and it seemed that it understood her. It grew daily and was soon weaned. Once the foal was old enough, Lianna had the sad duty to tell Redraven that the foal was being moved to the horse-breeding farm. Redraven, though understanding in her mind, felt torn in her heart. When the foal was led away to the transport trailer, for the first time in years, Redraven cried. Lianna understood and did the best she could to help Redraven deal with the parting.
Redraven lost track of time in the middle of her final year and was surprised when Gina arrived one morning to take her back for reconversion. Redraven, unaccountably, was sad at losing her racing career. It had been far more satisfying than any time she’d spent in business. Once back at the suiting center, she whinnied and pushed towards the communications board. This board allowed a transformee to communicate by selecting symbols from a board. Part of the conversion robbed them of speech early on. On the walk over, she’d decided she wanted to continue as a racing ponygirl.
Gina was surprised at the request. Few had ever made such a request. Usually, they were more than willing to ditch the horse form and get back to their old lives with their newfound wealth. Those few that had in past years in Gina’s experience had nothing to go back to. She quickly disappeared and returned twenty minutes later with a suited man.
“Now you are absolutely certain about this?” he asked. Redraven indicated on the board that she was.
“You realize the longer you stay in this form, the more likely it is to be permanent?” She knew that too, of course. The BDC had made that abundantly clear years ago. She clicked the board’s button impatiently.
“We have a problem then. You’ve accumulated a small fortune out there. The investments you had us make instead of putting the money into term deposits have paid off handsomely. You’ve something over five million dollars in your holdings.” Redraven had forgotten that part. Then she had an idea. Pushing a series of symbols, she offered to become a partner in the company. This took the lawyer completely by surprise. He pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. From the one-sided conversation that followed, it was apparent that the person on the other end was equally surprised.
“Dr. Orlandine will be joining us in a few moments. She’s the owner of the facility here.”
The woman strode into the room with a somewhat puzzled look on her face. “You want to stay a ponygirl and become a partner?” Redraven prodded the button. “We certainly can use all the help we can on the monetary side. Would you be willing to help us plan our own investments? This place is barely breaking even as is.” Redraven punched the buttons indicating she would be happy to. “We’re going to have to get you a better way of communicating then. This is too slow if we’re going to be partners.” Redraven just smiled and nickered.