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I can't stand walking through the park.

Grant Park is a nice place, don't get me wrong, but...still. It just isn't my cup of tea. I never quite enjoyed going through there, but it was the fastest and easiest way to get to work, without having to take an expensive taxi, or a slightly less expensive, but slightly more question riddled Uber.

I guess I can't really blame the drivers for always wanting to ask "what" I was, but then again, they weren't the only ones who did it, and I'd become to used to that. It was just the way things were, and like or not, it was my daily life, anymore.

Recently, I'd started to detest the trip through the park that much more, despite my getting used to the path that I had to take. Some group of hippies was always standing around by the side of the path, stinking up the place...half of them were shirtless; even the women didn't really care much about modesty, but for some reason, they were there almost every day, sitting around in a circle or tossing a frisbee. Gotta be honest, I just don't quite get it, but they sure seem to enjoy themselves.

It's a shame that they don't have a job to go to, like I do. They might actually be able to appreciate having a little freedom if some of it was taken away. I know that every minute of freedom I get is precious down to the very last second, especially with the internship that I'm dealing with, these days. It's enough stress to make me want to rip my hair out, but honestly, I keep telling myself that it's worth it. [b]Everyone[/b] tells me that it'll be worth it, but...goodness, I just don't see it. It's frustrating beyond any trial that I've ever known, and honestly, much as they're hardly worth the note, those hippies are who I envy the most.

They have freedom. They can sit around all day and do nothing in the park and enjoy nature, while I have to walk by and figure out the fastest way to get to my building for work.

Just once, I wish I could stop and join them, much as I really don't care for them, but...hey. What's a girl to do?

**

Another boring day is passing by, and there's almost nothing to fill my time.

A lot of my internship is just that: filling time, and trying to look busy while doing so. There's so little about my job that has any appeal, and like a lot of older offices, there just isn't anything special about it.

Mind you, when I say older, I mean older as in the ones that were built in the 60's and 70's. This building wasn't new enough to be cutting edge, and wasn't old enough to have the kind of updated history that made a building feel special. It was bland, dated, and nothing ever really jumped out at me, really...nothing about the building, anyway.

When you're so bored that you literally have to [b]try[/b] to find things to capture your interest, any little thing can jump out at you. Sometimes, however, it's the bigger things that jump out at you...like...the hair that's growing on my arm.

The hell?

I've always had a little hair on my arms, so that's no big deal, but this hair is white...[b]stark[/b] white. It's not even that thick, but it's definitely there...have I just been sitting at this desk for such a long time that I've started rapidly aging and not even realized it?

Heh. That's kind of a silly thought, but in all seriousness, the hell is going on with my arm?

There's no reason for me to be at the office today, anyway. I guess I can just tell my manager that I'm not feeling well and head home...I've never called off of work sick before, and never even gone home early when I've been offered the opportunity. I'm sure that everything is fine...I'm probably just so bored that I'm overreacting to a change in the office lights or something.

**

Okay, it's an "or something."

I went back home through Grant Park again and passed the hippies again. They waved to me this time, as if they recognized me from all of the times that I'd passed them before, but I definitely didn't know any of them. I found it a kind of strange interaction, but it wasn't really something that I had a chance to worry about.

The comfort of making it back to my apartment, the one that I shared with a couple of obnoxious roommates, wasn't really able to last long. The white hairs on my arm were growing longer, and right after I made my way through the park, I swear I saw the same thing happening to my left arm, too. Now I'm just sitting here, staring at the wall, trying to get my mind off of what I'm sure is just my eyes playing tricks on me...but it's hard to ignore it.

It isn't just my arms, after all, and I don't know how else I can describe it. It's not an ordinary feeling. It's something that's under my skin, and yet, above it, as well. It's more than the irritating itch that's coming along with the growth. It's more than the fact that my eyes feel like they're seeing things differently.

I start to panic, and I know that there isn't much sanity left about me, even if I can't pinpoint the reason why.

My lower lip trembles, and I cautiously stroke my open palm over my arm as I physically examine the growing fluff, rather than just looking over it. It's actually a comforting feeling, something that I have a little trouble coming to terms with as a little bit of the growing fur sheds and comes away in my palm. It's delicate and smooth, as if it were from the flank of a horse, but it definitely came from me...there's no mistaking that.

Nervously, I take another gentle stroke, and more of the fluff begins to emerge, as if my fingers are literally raking flowers out of the ground that is my flesh.

I tremble and try to keep a hold on what little sanity I might still have dwelling in the back of my mind, as the room spins around me. I can't put my finger on what exactly is wrong with me, but suddenly, I realize that it wasn't such a bad idea to call off early from work after all, though the churning that grows in my stomach is nothing more than my own nerves.

Nerves or not, something else is [b]clearly[/b] going on, and my body can't possibly ignore it as the fluff begins to spread up from my arms and toward my shoulders.

The only silver lining that I can think of is the lack of roommates, who I know won't be coming back any time soon. It'll give me plenty of time to figure out what's happening, and I know that I'll need it, as that nervous fear spreads up through my head and spins the room that much faster.

I make my way to the bathroom, only hoping that I can make it there before my stomach turns over one too many times.

**

I awake with a start. I gasp and suck in a deep breath, but I can't seem to get a full one, no matter how hard I try.

My body is hunched, at least a little bit. I try to resist the urge to lean over that much further forward, and find that I collapsed on the living room floor, no doubt due to the terrible nausea that still grabs onto my ears and swings me around like a child being tossed from a merry-go-round.

It's terrifying, but I don't have even a second to focus on it, as I brush my open palms over my arms once again.

The fluff is still there, and no doubt, it's been growing while I slept. I try to sit upright to get a better feel for it, but my chest is so broad, I find it a struggle, and nearly fall back over. The excess growth of muscle that seems to have jumped onto my chest is the obvious reason that my body is hunched to begin with, and no matter how hard I try, I can't keep from panicking at the sight of what looks like thigh-sized muscles growing out from my shoulders.

Like a child stung by a bee, I [b]scream.[/b] There's no one around, however, and my neighbors have long since stopped interacting with me, whatever the reason, thanks to my roommates. Whatever is happening to me, I immediately accept that I'm going to have to go it alone, and face the challenge head on.

I know that I need to get my confidence back. I do everything that I can to try and stand upright, but my upper body is simply too heavy, and all of my efforts send me crashing back down to the floor, with the only difference being that my chest is now aching from the fall, instead of my back aching from the terribly uncomfortable sleep.

My hands no longer look exactly like hands. They're a bit different all of the sudden, or at least, it feels sudden to me. Perhaps they were already changed without my noticing, but my fingers are fatter, and getting closer together. It's as if certain parts of my body are swelling up to accommodate each other, and all of it started with my chest, which is too broad for me to move around, anymore.

The white fluff, thick and prominent as it has become, seems to stop right at the edge of my wrists, and I consider the dark, purple coloration that crawls up the back of my hands to be nothing more than a reaction to the swelling. Whether I'm wrong or not, I can't possibly know yet, but I keep a close eye on the strange coloration as the fluff grows back up and across the broadening flesh of my chest. It actually tickles just a little bit, adding the only sense of comfort that I can find to the moment as the pulling weight of my chest forces my back out of alignment, or at least, I can only imagine that's what it is.

I know I can't stand up on my own two legs anymore. I kick my legs out from under my body and plant my feet the best that I can before pressing down on my open palms, and finally, in a way, it seems that I can stand again. It feels weird, as if I'm pretending to be a dog or something of that nature, but it's the closest thing I can do to actually standing upright, and in a weird way, it almost seems fitting for me. There's a bit of comfort, or at least something akin to it in nearly getting myself off of the floor, but I can hardly lift my head, as if my neck is becoming too thick and heavy for the rest of my body. There's a terrible strain on my spine, and I start to worry that if whatever is happening continues, I might literally be paralyzed by it.

The tickle of the fluffy, white fur running down my torso is the only distraction that can keep me from worrying about the thought. It's like a spreading tickle across my body, something like the unnerving sensation right before a sneeze, but I can't shake it, and I know that I don't have to sneeze. I just have to see this through to the end and figure it out, and my body is giving me clues, but I don't want to listen to them. I don't want to [b]believe[/b] them. There's no way that I can accept the fairy tale that's coming true to be fact, but I continue to look at my body, and sure enough, everything supports my theory.

I'm no longer human. Having battled my whole life with body dysphoria, it isn't hard for me to accept that I might be something other than what I appear to be on the surface, but this is to a level that even I can't fully appreciate, and my body doesn't listen to my cries for it to stop. The changes continue, with or without my permission, and the little bit that my eyes can still see make it abundantly clear to me what's happening.

I lift my palms as high as I can, and let them drop on the floor. There's no thick, fleshy thud, but instead, a loud, powerful [b][i]CLOMP[/b][/i] as a hand no longer hits the floor, but something more like a hoof. My ears wiggle just slightly to the sound of it, and it actually takes me a second to realize that fact: my ears can [b]wiggle[/b] just from the feeling of sound crossing them. They don't need my permission, just like the rest of the changes that I continue to endure.

I sense the panic is fading, as I accept the reality of what's going on. It seems like something right out of any number of fantasy books that I've read in my years, but it's not some kind of a dream; I know that to be true, just from the mild discomfort that runs through my back as it adjusts to the way that my spine is bending. I take a few cautious steps with my new front legs and try to adjust to the feeling of walking on my hands, but no longer having hands, I realize that I need to treat things a little differently. It's an adjustment that I can't properly appreciate, at least, until I feel a slight shift in my [b]actual[/b] legs, the ones that I was born with. I already knew that fur was spreading over my legs and running down toward my ankles, but I didn't sense that my feet were starting to change. I was too enamored with the change of my hands, and suddenly, I'm grateful that I can't manage to look between my legs to see what's happening.

I can still feel it, however, and nothing I do can help me ignore the sensation. My toes meld together, and I do everything that I can to keep my stomach from rushing up into my throat as flesh melts into other flesh, a sensation that I can't hope to capture in words. The bones within each little toe seem to simply melt back into my feet, and already, I know that they're changing color, even if I can't see it. I can [b]feel[/b] it, the same unusual, swelling sensation that filled my hands when they suddenly turned into the hooves that they are now. My feet will be the same before too long, I'm simply sure of it...

...If I simply had the chance to focus on any single sensation, I might be able to appreciate them more, but my body doesn't give me such a luxury. The loose, relaxing clothes that I slipped into when I came home from work are no match for the impossible changes that are still occurring, and my new, sensitive ears flicker as I hear a concerning [b][i]riiiiiiip[/b][/i] that echoes across my apartment.

My widening, thick chest has completely torn through the loose shirt, and I look down to see the garment in tatters. I know that my loose, pajama pants will follow shortly, as the form my body has decided to take becomes entirely too obvious.

**

Days pass, and I worry that I'm no longer losing a battle with my body, but my own sanity.

I can't be sure anymore just how long the change has been going on, and I can't even remember when it started. I only know that it still creeps forth, like a slowing trickle of blood from a sealing wound. The transformation is slightly less painful than that, but it's still mildly unpleasant, as my neck elongates and my jaw begins to expand.

I already know that I'm turning into some kind of a horse. I still have no idea why, and that confusion upsets me more than a little bit, but there's literally nothing I can do about it, now. Moving around in my new body is a struggle unlike any other that I've endured, and no matter how hard I try, I find it a stretch to so much as make it to the kitchen to get a drink or a snack, and in as much, I haven't properly eaten or drank in days.

That fact isn't helping my sanity, and the only glimmer of hope I can find, the only silver lining to this paste is that my body dysphoria seems to have penetrated the transformation itself.

I first felt it only a couple days ago, but I could clearly feel the length of flesh between my legs, the hanging, dangling meat that never quite felt as though it belonged there, starting to dwindle back into my body. Knowing all that I know about horses, it's a relief that I can't fathom the full extent of, but I continue to cling to that sensation as thick, white fluff covers up the rest of my body. If the pace continues, my whole form will be a soft white before the day is through, but more importantly and more enjoyably, my member will be just a thing of the past before the sun sets. As horrifying as it is to realize that I may never be a human again, I can take a true and genuine relief in that this new body is, just in that sense, so much closer to the body that I believe I should have been born with.

A smile spreads across my lips, at least, as close to a smile as I can manage anymore. I still have my human conscious and thoughts, but it feels odd to perform human tasks as my body moves so far away from the form of a human. Smiling is odd as my face elongates to match the proper form of a horse, but it helps to know that I can't frown properly, either. In a lot of ways, it feels as though the new form isn't letting me focus on anything negative as the better changes begin to dominate my body, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief, and perhaps, enjoyment as delicate fuzz surrounds my cheeks and eyes. There's a warmth that simply wasn't there before, something I never would have expected as the fur encompasses my body with a soft, delicate embrace, like the touch of a caring mother wrapping a warm blanket around her freezing child.

Suddenly, the thought of changing for the rest of my life doesn't seem so bad, as my human focus allows me to think about things that I truly should be grateful for. The internship is a thing of the long forgotten past, as are the roommates that I didn't really enjoy living with in the first place. All of the unexpected, welcome changes of the transformation make themselves known as the process nears completion, and it makes it that much easier for me to come to grips with the fact that I really am some kind of a horse now.

The aspect of fantasy isn't completely out the window either, however. My body is forced up onto all fours, and I wobble slightly at first, much like a newborn calf trying to stand for the first time, but my hooves eventually come to settle underneath my changed body. I feel a sense of pride within as the last inch of my old genitals completely fade away into my still somewhat fluid flesh, although something like it took place on my forehead. A tiny horn begins to spout from the front of my skull, and I feel a silly kind of glee within, as something out of my dreams as a child comes to life in my very being; I'm a unicorn, at least, in the physical form, and my hooves stamp up and down gently on the floor in my excitement. I immediately feel a fortune greater than any money could ever buy, as I realize that I still have a human mind that's able to appreciate just how amazing this is, and only one thing can put a damper on the incredible swing in my mood.

I was greedy, thinking that perhaps, the shifting of my sexual organs would result in the growth of something different; something that I felt I was missing my entire life, but it never comes. My transformation is complete, it seems...a gender-less unicorn with a slightly smaller body than one might expect of a horse. It's as if something out of my adolescent dreams has come to life, and I was the target of it, and for that much, I couldn't be happier about the fact.

About falling just short of perfection, however, I'm insanely frustrated...and the room begins to shrink in on me once again as the dysphoria takes my breath away. All of the joy is replaced by frustration, and finally, the room feels too small to contain me, even though my size hasn't changed.

I rush out the door of my apartment, unable to close it behind me without hands to turn the knob. I start running...even if I don't know where I'm going.

**

The streets no longer feel comfortable to me. With feet, the asphalt feels like a natural place to walk, but with hooves, the sidewalk is slippery and uncomfortable. It's hard enough to adjust to running on all fours in this new body, and the people walking the streets around me can't decide if they're more freaked out by my oafish gait, or the fact that there's a wild horse running around downtown.

Either way, I realize that I can't keep running down the streets. No one I know will recognize me like this, and already, I can feel my ability to speak human words slipping away. My every shriek and howl of discomfort is actually more of a twisted, panicked neigh, and I worry that I might never find comfort in the world again, as I end up running back toward a place that I thought I was tired of.

Somehow, I felt like I knew I would end back up in Grant Park, and sure enough, my hooves find comfort in the soft, cushy grass that spreads across it. I immediately step off of the sidewalks and away from them, looking for a place that I can feel comfortable again, but no obvious answers jump out at me.

In such a new body, visiting the park again feels like something of a new experience, but there is still one familiar territory, and I'm inexplicably drawn to it, as my hooves carry me across the fields of their own accord.

It's the hippies again, but this time, they don't seem to be judging me as I pass them. They don't mock me, but instead, they welcome me into their masses, and I feel the last of my humanity slipping away from me as they stand to greet me and welcome me into their warm presence.

Only as they stroke my mane and gently brush their hands over my flank do I feel the last door is unlocked; there was just one breath of transformation left about me, and it comes in the form of my legs spreading a little wider apart. The womanhood that I so desired was hidden within me all along, and the circle of peace that surrounded me was all that I needed to embrace it as much as it had embraced me. I feel the smooth, delicate labia of my new sex emerging from my flesh and taking a proper place between my legs, and fittingly, the hippies pay it no mind. Despite being in a public place, it's a private pleasure for me to enjoy, and I whinny happily as the group stands around me, praising my fur for it's radiant, soft glow and my body for the natural beauty that it carries.

I can't thank them in human words, but they can read my emotions in my eyes, and know that I'm happy to be with them. They've given me the gift of the body that I always wanted, and in turn, I follow them wherever they go, refusing to leave their ranks ever again.

The last thought I remember is wondering why I had so many worries as a human, when I have none left now...