{"sf1_id":791446,"sf2_id":"rm8l8PDm","title":"Picture Perfect","author":"Posti","words":2527,"posted_at":"2014-12-04T02:31:00.000Z","tags":["Boy","Horse","Magic","Male","Transformation"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/791446-picture-perfect","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/rm8l8PDm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/8b/9d/8b9d46ed-3ee9-414a-a804-0538cf9cf934","description":"James is visiting an unusual gallery in a small English village - the owner is willing and able to help customers really get into the art scene. (Inspired by the actual Cailler's advert)","content":"The gallery was mostly empty.\u0026nbsp; James supposed the late hour and the fact it was a workday contributed to the lack of customers.\u0026nbsp; He'd only seen one other customer in the 30 minutes or so that he'd been browsing the paintings, prints, and posters that covered the walls of this converted warehouse.\u0026nbsp; A quick check of his iPhone confirmed that closing time was fast approaching.\n\nHe looked ruefully towards the back of the huge room.\u0026nbsp; There had to be hundreds that he had not had a chance to look at yet.\u0026nbsp; Too bad he had not discovered this place sooner.\u0026nbsp; The tour group left this remote town at '8 AM sharp,' so there would be no chance to revisit the gallery tomorrow.\u0026nbsp; Thursday was Edinburgh, and this particular village was just the nightly stop for dinner and a place to sleep.\u0026nbsp;\n\nWell, he had a few minutes yet.\u0026nbsp; Instead of continuing further back, he returned to the one piece of art that had caught his eye.\u0026nbsp; Oh, there were some beautiful paintings here, plus many classic prints all beautifully framed.\u0026nbsp; Ironically, the item that stood out above all the rest was an advertisement.\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe found it easily, bright colors and large size making the poster stand out from everything else around it.\u0026nbsp; Bold brown and red letters proclaimed 'CAILLER'S Genuine Swiss Milk' over the scene of a uniformed boy selling chocolates to an elegantly-dressed woman in an Edwardian railway station.\u0026nbsp; The woman's features were very attractive, and her clothing made it clear she was a person of wealth and breeding.\u0026nbsp; The boy was thin and gawky-looking, with a pug nose and ginger hair, just as obviously one of the 'peasants.'\u0026nbsp; Emblazoned across the top of the train car was 'London to Edinburgh.'\n\nJames grinned.\u0026nbsp; He and the wealthy customer both had the same destination, and she obviously had the better station in life.\u0026nbsp; He'd rather be the boy, though.\u0026nbsp; Those were amazing times.\u0026nbsp; The lithograph dated back to 1901, more than a century past.\u0026nbsp; Horses ruled the roads and only a few primitive automobiles chugged across the whole world.\u0026nbsp; The Wright Brother's first flight was two years away, and construction had not even started on the Titanic.\u0026nbsp; A boy of that time would have seen an astounding number of changes in the world.\u0026nbsp; World War I was 15 years away, World War II 25 years after that.\u0026nbsp; With a little luck, that boy might even see man walk on the moon.\n\nHe gave the placard another hard look.\u0026nbsp; One hundred and thirty-four pounds.\u0026nbsp; That was about $200 at the current exchange rate.\u0026nbsp; For an advertisement.\u0026nbsp; To be fair, it was in amazing condition to be well over a century old.\u0026nbsp; The colors were bright, and only a few stains and carefully repaired splits along the edges gave evidence of its age.\u0026nbsp; But it was very large, and even rolled up it would not fit in his one suitcase.\u0026nbsp; The local post office was closed, and there would be no time in the morning.\u0026nbsp; He wondered if the owner would shop it to the States.\n\n\"Very nice piece, that one.\"\u0026nbsp; A very Cockney female voice startled him from his thoughts.\u0026nbsp; He turned to see the owner in question smiling at him.\u0026nbsp; She was about his age, certainly no more than 60, but still had a sparkle in her eyes and pleasant features.\u0026nbsp; Pretty much how he'd expect Eliza Doolittle from 'My Fair Lady' to look and sound at about that age.\u0026nbsp; \"Quite rare, too.\u0026nbsp; You don't see many adverts from the period.\"\n\nJames nodded, still debating with himself.\u0026nbsp; He really didn't have that much free cash to spend, especially this early in the 'Grande Tour of the United Kingdom.'\u0026nbsp; The package tour including transportation, hotels, and most meals.\u0026nbsp; But not all of them, and there were also side expenses such as optional side tours that would mount up pretty quickly.\u0026nbsp; \"I really like it, but I don't think I can manage to get it home.\u0026nbsp; I'm with a tour group.\"\n\nShe chuckled. \"Aye, you're not one of the locals.\u0026nbsp; Most of them won't set foot in here.\"\n\n\"Art critics?\"\u0026nbsp; James grinned.\n\n'Ach, no.\"\u0026nbsp; She leaned close and said in a mock whisper \"I'm a witch!\"\u0026nbsp;\n\nHe had to laugh.\u0026nbsp; \"You have to be kidding.\"\u0026nbsp;\n\nAlthough her smile was wide, she shook her head.\u0026nbsp; \"Not at all.\u0026nbsp; They are convinced that I put people into the paintings.\"\n\n\"Some of these are your work?\"\u0026nbsp; James looked around.\u0026nbsp; \"Everything looked professional.\u0026nbsp; You must be very good.\"\n\nThe woman laughed, a pleasant high chortle.\u0026nbsp; \"Goodness, no.\u0026nbsp; I mean, I am not a painter.\u0026nbsp; Can't even draw stick figures.\"\u0026nbsp; Her smile widened when she saw James' look of puzzlement.\u0026nbsp; \"No, I mean actually put people into the scene that is depicted.\u0026nbsp; Not so great when the subject is the Battle of Hastings, but possibly very interesting when the scene is something like this.\"\n\nWaiting for the punchline, James raised an eyebrow.\u0026nbsp; \"And what might have given the population such a silly idea?\"\n\nShe beamed.\u0026nbsp; \"Because it's absolutely true!\"\n\nHe stared at her, still sure it was a joke.\u0026nbsp; But the silence stretched on, and while she looked cheerful, she also seemed to be completely serious.\n\nShe misinterpreted his reaction as disapproval.\u0026nbsp; \"Oh, not against their will.\u0026nbsp; Goodness, no!\u0026nbsp; I'm not an evil witch.\u0026nbsp; Now, Muriel Perkins still carries on about her husband running off to Dix's Metropolis.\u0026nbsp; But it was his choice, and I swear that the Hawthorne boy begged to go into the Bucephalus print.\"\n\nThere was another long silence, but he broke it this time.\u0026nbsp; \"So, you are saying you turn people into paintings?\"\u0026nbsp; He took a step back without thinking, though he was also calculating the shortest distance to the exit.\u0026nbsp; \"Uh, wouldn't that kill them?\"\n\nThe woman looked exasperated.\u0026nbsp; \"I don't kill anyone!\u0026nbsp; No, I put them in the scene depicted!\"\u0026nbsp; She strode down about thirty feet and pointed at one of the pieces.\u0026nbsp; \"Look here.\"\n\nCuriosity won out over caution, and he moved to stand next to her.\u0026nbsp; The piece was a black and white lithograph of a classically handsome young man in a flowing loincloth holding the bridle of a huge, rearing horse.\u0026nbsp; After a moment, he made the connection.\u0026nbsp; \"Alexander and Bucephalus?\"\n\n\"Very lovely work by Schommer.\u0026nbsp; Done just a few years before your advert.\"\u0026nbsp; She got a faraway look in her eyes.\u0026nbsp; \"Such power and grace.\u0026nbsp; So beautiful.\u0026nbsp; You can hardly blame the Hawthorne boy.\"\n\nJames nodded.\u0026nbsp; Alexander was depicted as an idealized youth, lean and muscular, perfectly proportioned and very striking.\u0026nbsp; \"Not sure I'd want to be that close to those hooves.\"\n\nShe snorted.\u0026nbsp; \"Not Alexander!\u0026nbsp; I mean Bucephalus!\"\n\n\"He wanted to be the horse?\"\u0026nbsp; James relaxed a little, the certainty that this was going to end up a big joke returning.\u0026nbsp; \"I suppose you waved a magic wand and he suddenly had four legs and a tail?\u0026nbsp; Is he stabled close by?\"\n\n\"Oh, he's nowhere around here.\"\u0026nbsp; She grinned.\u0026nbsp; \"And I don't need a wand.\"\u0026nbsp; The woman raised her right arm dramatically with the hand bent forward.\u0026nbsp;\n\nJames was suddenly struck by a hundred strange sensations, not the least of which was he was going to fall on his face.\u0026nbsp; It was suddenly bright daylight, and confused images reported rocky, if almost colorless and distorted, terrain.\u0026nbsp; Something was pulling at his mouth, but it was too far from his face.\u0026nbsp; His feet were numb, but it felt like he had gained a thousand pounds.\u0026nbsp; And then he saw the boy before him, gripping the ends of leather straps that hung from James' muzzle.\u0026nbsp; His... MUZZLE?\n\nJames came crashing down on his forehooves, bewildered.\u0026nbsp; The boy was speaking softly, stroking James' long, lather-coated neck.\u0026nbsp; None of the words made sense, but the tone was soothing, and he felt some of the fear and confusing draining away.\u0026nbsp; His skin quivered, muscles trembling with excitement, hot air blowing from his nostrils.\u0026nbsp; He was a horse!\u0026nbsp; No, he was THE horse!\u0026nbsp; Bucephalus!\u0026nbsp; He felt incredible, powerful enough to move mountains, huge and magnificent.\u0026nbsp;\n\nFear was gone now, leaving only the confusion.\u0026nbsp; James struggled to comprehend the smells, the sounds, and the strange feelings.\u0026nbsp; The boy had the strong odor of all his kind, but there was something in his voice and manner that appealed to the stallion, a growing link between them.\u0026nbsp; He calmed even more, snuffling at the boy's hair and letting instincts and a different personality flood in.\u0026nbsp; This was Alexander and he was Buceph...\n\nJames gasped, suddenly back in the gallery.\u0026nbsp; He swayed on his feet, feeling disoriented for a moment until he got used to being on two legs again.\u0026nbsp; It took a moment for him to realize the woman was helping steady him with one had on his arm.\n\nShe smiled.\u0026nbsp; \"If a picture is worth a thousand words, being put into one is worth a million.\"\n\n\"I was Bucephalus!\"\u0026nbsp; It was a statement, not a question, for there was no denying the experience.\u0026nbsp; It had been too complete, too real.\n\n\"Well, almost.\"\u0026nbsp; The woman patted his arm.\u0026nbsp; \"Animal identities always take over quickly.\u0026nbsp; If I had left you there another couple of minutes you'd have been the horse completely.\u0026nbsp; Still you, but you as Bucephalus.\u0026nbsp; As far as I can tell, even trees retain some vestige of awareness.\"\n\n\"Trees?\"\u0026nbsp; James' voice cracked from tension.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\"Oh, yes.\u0026nbsp; More than you would expect.\u0026nbsp; I suppose the tranquility appeals to some.\"\u0026nbsp; She smiled reassuringly, and then started walking to the front. \"Don't worry.\u0026nbsp; I'm not sending you into a forest scene.\u0026nbsp; Come on.\"\n\nHe stood gaping at her for a few seconds, and then followed warily.\u0026nbsp; While he no longer thought this was a joke, the enormity of what he had experienced was still sinking in.\u0026nbsp; James took a shuddery breath, aware that his original skepticism about young Mr. Hawthorne's fate had been replaced with understanding and even a little bit of jealousy.\u0026nbsp; To feel that power again?\u0026nbsp; But...\n\n\"Wait a minute!\u0026nbsp; If you already made this Hawthorne kid into Bucephalus, how could I be him too?\"\u0026nbsp; James almost felt silly trying to apply logic to the absurd situation, but couldn't help himself.\u0026nbsp; \"There was only one Bucephalus.\"\n\n\"If what I did was limited to real people and events, I suppose that would be true.\"\u0026nbsp; The woman stopped and turned to look back at him.\u0026nbsp; Then she gestured around the gallery space.\u0026nbsp; \"I have over a thousand pictures, prints, paintings, and other types of art here.\u0026nbsp; Probably less than a third of them depict something or someone real.\u0026nbsp; I could make a dozen people into Bucephalus - it is not the real history they go to, but one created just for them.\u0026nbsp; The scene becomes real for the person who goes into it.\"\n\nHe looked back towards the lithograph, then fought back rising desire.\u0026nbsp; \"This...\u0026nbsp; this is crazy!\u0026nbsp; Are you going to do something to me now no matter what I want?\u0026nbsp; Is that why no one will come in here?\"\n\nThe woman shook her head.\u0026nbsp; \"Of course not!\u0026nbsp; You are free to leave.\u0026nbsp; Walk out now, tell anyone you like.\u0026nbsp; But, as you said yourself, this is crazy.\u0026nbsp; No doubt many in the village will be sympathetic, but outside of them, you'll either be laughed at or locked up.\u0026nbsp; Maybe both.\"\n\nIt was true, he realized.\u0026nbsp; And that actually put him at ease.\u0026nbsp; She did not look evil.\u0026nbsp; And if she wanted to harm him, he might already be a tree, or left with Alexander as a horse.\u0026nbsp; Well, that didn't seem like a bad thing now, but even now he still felt the strongest attraction to the old Cailler's advertisement.\u0026nbsp; Which, he also realized, they were back in front of.\n\nHe touched the glass, his finger over the boy's face.\u0026nbsp; There was nothing really holding him here.\u0026nbsp; Friends and family, but no wife or children depending on him.\u0026nbsp; Approaching retirement age with no plans for what to do afterwards.\u0026nbsp; \"What happens when you put me into the picture?\u0026nbsp; Will I forget everything?\"\u0026nbsp; It occurred to him that he had said 'when' instead of 'if.'\n\n\"I don't think so.\"\u0026nbsp; She shrugged.\u0026nbsp; \"But I don't know for sure.\u0026nbsp; Best guess is that life here will eventually be more like a dream, and your new personality and situation will become normal.\u0026nbsp; Based on the artwork, I expect the intent is to show a lower class boy at work.\u0026nbsp; Little or no education, poor, and probably average intelligence at best.\u0026nbsp; There was still a strong social class system in 1901 England, and you will be near the bottom.\"\n\nJames stared at the brightly colored lithograph, trying to imagine what life would be like.\u0026nbsp; Medicine was comparatively primitive then, and a poor uneducated boy would have to work hard to make something of himself.\u0026nbsp; Wearing a uniform and selling chocolates was probably pretty good progress for a kid who looked to be maybe 15.\u0026nbsp; Who knows what he will be able to do from there?\n\nHe did not remember voicing his decision.\u0026nbsp; One moment he was staring at the Cailler's advert, and the next he was staring up at an attractive woman wearing an enormous red, white and blue hat.\u0026nbsp; He blinked, both in surprise and from smoke and steam that drifted alongside the train.\u0026nbsp; The smell of hot water and burning coal filled his nostrils.\n\n\"Boy!\"\u0026nbsp; The woman was holding out a shilling.\u0026nbsp; \"Come.\u0026nbsp; The train will be pulling out in just a moment.\"\n\nJames realized he had a paper-wrapped chocolate bar in his hand, and offered it to the woman.\u0026nbsp; She took it, and pressed the coin into his palm. \u0026nbsp;\"You may keep the change.\"\n\n\"Thanks, M'um.\"\u0026nbsp; He smiled uncertainly and bowed his head curtly, then backed away as the engine's whistle screamed a warning.\u0026nbsp; \"Most kind!\"\u0026nbsp; His voice was different, a boy's tenor with an obvious British accent.\u0026nbsp;\n\nAs the train began to pull out, he caught his reflection in the glass windows and grinned.\u0026nbsp; A young teenager grinned back at him, pale blue eyes shining under the polished black brim of his cap.\u0026nbsp; Not handsome, but not ugly.\u0026nbsp; A quick mental survey turned up only the most basic math and English skills, and while he remembered what a computer was, the concepts of how it worked or even what it did were already getting hazy.\u0026nbsp; No genius, but hopefully not stupid, either.\u0026nbsp;\n\nStupid?\u0026nbsp; He blinked as the last car clanked by and then shifted the tray straps so his sweets were more visible.\u0026nbsp; Mr. Pierce said he was the best boy the shop had!\u0026nbsp; Jimmy carefully put the coin away in his pocket, delighted by the generous tip.\u0026nbsp; The sweet was only sixpence, and she'd paid him double.\u0026nbsp;\n\nIt would be ten minutes before the next train.\u0026nbsp; He strolled back to the station to wait, whistling 'Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight.'\u0026nbsp; It was a new American tune that the town's brass band had taken quite a fancy to, and though Jimmy's lack of musical talent might make some passengers wince, he was too happy to care.\u0026nbsp; He had a feeling that his future was going to be picture perfect.\n\nThe end\n\n  \n  \n\n"}