Transcendence - 9 (Patreon)

Author's note. I've always wanted to try a transformation in reverse -- meaning, a close friend or loved one who sees the after and then getting to the actual tf later. That's the reason for the 'flashback' scene here.

9.1

Beth awoke on the cold floor, a blanket of confusion and pain enveloping her. As she forced herself up, the reality of her transformation became painfully clear. She struggled onto her altered limbs, now more hoof than foot, each movement a testament to the drastic changes her body had undergone.

Her back screamed in protest as she attempted to rear up to a standing position. The pain was sharp, a consequence of her spine reshaping to accommodate her new form. She managed to stand upright, but only just, stooping significantly as her body tried to balance the human and equine aspects of her anatomy.

Beth looked down at her arms, or what were now essentially her forelegs. The elbows were rotated, an adaptation more suited for a quadruped stance. Her humerus, the upper arm bone, had shortened and thickened, aligning more with the structure of a horse’s front limb. The radius and ulna, bones of the lower arm, had fused, mirroring the equine structure that supports the considerable weight of the animal.

Her hands had completed their transformation into hooves. The metacarpal bones had elongated and fused into a single, solid cannon bone, while her fingers had merged into the single structure of the hoof. The keratinized hoof wall, resembling what was once her fingernails, now fully encapsulated the tips of her former fingers.

Despite these drastic changes, Beth found she could still stand and walk upright, albeit with great difficulty and discomfort. This ability was a remnant of her human skeletal structure, particularly her pelvis and remaining spine, which had not yet fully adapted to a quadrupedal form. Her vertebral column, though altered, still allowed for a degree of bipedal posture.

As Beth studied her new form, her mind a whirlwind of clinical analysis and personal horror, she realized the full extent of her transformation. She was caught between worlds, neither fully human nor horse. Her body was a living example of the extreme capabilities of genetic manipulation, a fusion of species that defied the natural order.

The pain, both physical and emotional, was overwhelming. Beth grappled with the loss of her humanity, the loss of herself. She was now a creature of science, a product of unbridled experimentation, and the life she once knew was irrevocably gone.

9.2

Struggling to the window of her cell, Beth’s movements were labored and awkward. She saw that the cell beside her, once occupied by the creature that was Alex, was now empty. A pang of sorrow hit her – she hadn’t even had the chance to say goodbye, to acknowledge their shared fate.

The door to her cell opened abruptly, and Janice stood there, a tray of food and water in her hands. "I brought you some food and water, hon," she said, placing them on the bed. Beth felt a gnawing hunger but was quickly confronted with the harsh reality of her new form – she couldn’t pick up the food with her transformed forelimbs, now functioning as hooves.

Janice observed the struggle with an almost clinical detachment. "Oh dear," she said, her tone patronizing. "I guess I'll have to put it in this." She brought in a barrel suspended by a plastic pole and set it in the middle of the room. The food – a few apples, a head of lettuce, and some carrots – was placed into the makeshift trough.

"Guess you'll need to eat in a different way now, hon," Janice remarked, almost mockingly.

Desperate for sustenance, Beth made a decision. She lowered herself onto all four limbs, an action that felt both humiliating and necessary. Shuffling forward awkwardly, she reached the trough and took a large bite of the lettuce. As she did, another wave of transformation swept over her.

She felt her spine lengthening, her pelvis shifting into a more equine alignment. With a painful crack, she felt her collarbone splitting and reshaping. Her hips, backbone, shoulders, and spine all realigned, fusing into a position more suited for a quadruped. The transformation was not just altering her; it was redefining her very being.

"Perfect," Janice said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "Welcome to being a quadruped."

Beth, now consumed by the transformation, felt a profound sense of loss. She was no longer just losing her humanity; she was becoming something entirely different. Her identity, her self-awareness, was being buried under the weight of her new equine form.

As she stood there on all fours, eating from the trough like an animal, the reality of her new existence settled in. She was no longer Dr. Elizabeth Simpson, the veterinarian, the wife, the human being. She was now something else, a creature of science, a testament to the unchecked ambitions of genetic manipulation. Her life, as she knew it, had ended, leaving her in a world that was both familiar and utterly alien.

9.3

Janice's words were like a cold, unfeeling hand pushing Beth further into the abyss of her new reality. The casual pat on her shoulder felt dehumanizing, a stark reminder of her lost humanity. "Won't be long now, hon," Janice said, her voice unnervingly cheerful. "You'll gain some weight and height over the next few hours. Then we can take you back upstairs with the rest of the herd, won't that be nice? Might even get to see that handsome husband of yours."

The mention of Randy, her husband, in such a context filled Beth with a mixture of longing and despair. Her mind screamed in protest, a desperate attempt to cling to her fading human consciousness. She wanted to yell, to tell Janice to stop, to plead for her life back, but her altered vocal cords betrayed her.

Instead of words, only a series of soft nickers escaped her lips. The sound, so alien yet coming from her own throat, was a brutal confirmation of her transformation. It was a voice that no longer belonged to Beth Simpson but to the equine creature she had become.

The despair and frustration of being unable to communicate her anguish, her fear, and her plea for help were overwhelming. Beth's eyes, one of the few remaining connections to her human self, conveyed a depth of emotion – the terror of her situation, the longing for her past life, and the unbearable realization of her current state.

As Janice walked away, leaving Beth alone in her transformed state, the finality of her situation settled in. She was trapped in a body that was no longer hers, a prisoner within her own flesh, transformed into a being meant for display and observation, not for living the life she had known and cherished.

Beth stood there, on all fours, a creature of science and a victim of mankind's unbridled ambition. The life she had once lived felt like a distant dream, a fleeting memory rapidly being overshadowed by the stark and unforgiving reality of her new existence.

9.4

As the hours passed, Beth's transformation continued its relentless course. Her sight grew increasingly dim, a blurring of the world that had once been so clear and familiar. Overcome by exhaustion and the strain of the changes wracking her body, she lay down on her side, her breaths coming in short, labored pants.

Her body was hot, a furnace of biological activity as the transformation consumed her. She could feel her heart and lungs straining under the stress, struggling to support her rapidly changing physiology. Then, in the midst of her distress, another wave of transformation washed over her, profound and all-encompassing.

With a sudden shift, a different heart and lung system took over, one that was more suited to the equine form emerging. This new system was stronger, more efficient for the larger, more muscular body she was becoming. The change brought a momentary relief, as her breathing eased and her heart no longer felt like it was fighting a losing battle.

Beth felt her teeth pushing forward, elongating and reshaping, as her cranium stretched and morphed into a more equine shape. Her jaw extended, her face lengthening into what was unmistakably a muzzle. The sensation was surreal, a physical manifestation of the line she was crossing from human to animal.

Ligaments, tendons, muscles, and other soft tissues continued to adapt and change. She felt each shift acutely, a strange mix of pain and numbness as her body reconfigured itself. The transformation was thorough, leaving no part of her untouched.

As she lay there, breathing heavily on her side, she felt the creep of a fur coat sliding over her skin. It was thick and coarse, covering her entire body, a final layer in her new identity. Beth was no longer just changing; she had changed.

In those final moments of transformation, Beth Simpson, the woman, the veterinarian, the wife, faded into memory. In her place lay a creature of EquiGen’s creation, a being that bore little resemblance to her former self. Her transformation was complete, and with it came the loss of her human life, her human dreams, and her human heart. She was now a creature of another world, a world she had never asked to be a part of.

9.5

Beth slowly opened her eyes, the world around her coming into focus through a lens altered by her transformation. Her vision was different now, the colors less vibrant, more muted. The world appeared in a spectrum of grays and faint blues, a stark contrast to the rich colors she remembered as a human. She noticed her field of view had widened, a panoramic perspective typical of prey animals like horses, allowing her to see almost 360 degrees around her.

Her depth perception had changed as well; objects far away seemed clearer, while those close up were slightly blurred. It was a vision adapted for spotting predators from a distance, not for the intricate details of the world she used to inhabit.

Drawing on her memories as a veterinarian, Beth instinctively knew how to rise to her feet. She rolled, using the momentum to propel herself onto her legs, feeling the unfamiliar weight and strength of her new equine body. As she lifted herself, her muscles, now powerful and robust, responded with a surprising agility.

Once standing, she snorted and snuffled, her olfactory senses awakening to this new form. Scents were more pronounced, richer, and more complex. She could detect a myriad of smells that she had never noticed before. The damp earth, the subtle scent of hay from somewhere in the building, and even the lingering traces of human presence were all starkly evident to her now.

Beth took a few tentative steps, her hooves striking the concrete with a solid, unfamiliar sound. Each movement was an exploration, a learning process in how to maneuver this new body. The sensations were overwhelming, yet she found a strange grace in her movements.

This new world she had awakened to was both alien and familiar. She was a creature of instinct now, driven by senses that were once foreign but now intrinsic to her existence. Beth, the person she had once been, seemed like a distant dream, a lifetime away from the creature she had become.

9.6

Sometime later, Beth found her perception of time had altered as well. It seemed to stretch and compress in unfamiliar ways, leaving her disoriented. The sound of the door opening jolted her from her thoughts. Two figures stood in the doorway, their features blurred and indistinct to her changed vision. One voice was unmistakably feminine, while the other carried a masculine tone. Her hearing was sharp, yet the words they spoke were a mix of familiar and unintelligible sounds. Her name, "Beth," stood out, but other words melted into a confusing cacophony.

A primal urge to escape, to run from these invaders in her space, surged within her. Instinctively, she reared, lashing out with her powerful hind legs at the male figure. He skillfully dodged her attack, and a sharp rebuke came from another male voice. Then, something snapped down on her shoulder, a sensation like the bite of a fly, startling her into stillness.

The figures approached cautiously and secured something around her forelegs. The device made her move awkwardly, forcing her to hop forward with her front legs and follow clumsily with her hind. It was a hobbling device, designed to restrict her movements and keep her under control.

Beth's mind, still clinging to remnants of her human self, struggled to make sense of the situation. She could understand some of what was happening but was increasingly driven by instinct and reaction. The world she once knew, filled with words and complex thoughts, was slipping away, replaced by a more immediate, sensory experience.

As the figures led her out of the cell, Beth's emotions were a tumultuous mix of fear, confusion, and the dawning realization of her new existence. She was no longer a person but a creature, subject to the whims and controls of others. Her transformation was complete, and with it, her old life had ended, leaving her in a strange new reality that she was only beginning to understand.

9.7

Beth was led through the dimly lit underground tunnels, her movements awkward and constrained by the hobbling device. The female figure murmured softly to her as they walked. Beth could only respond with a soft nicker each time she heard her name, a name that still held a faint glimmer of her past identity.

They reached a freight elevator, and she was guided inside. The space felt cramped and unfamiliar, heightening her sense of unease. As the elevator ascended, the sensation of movement was disorienting, a stark contrast to the stable, open spaces she instinctively craved.

Once they reached the exhibit floor, something was fastened around her nose and head. Beth's veterinary knowledge, a remnant of her former life, recognized it as a hackamore. She understood it was one of the gentlest forms of directional control for a horse, yet its presence on her was a stark reminder of her new reality.

She was led out of the elevator by a rope attached to the hackamore. The sights and sounds of the exhibit floor were overwhelming, her senses bombarded by stimuli that her new equine body interpreted differently. She was acutely aware of the other horses, their scents, and sounds drawing her attention.

Beth was led to a stall beside a stallion she recognized – it was Alex. The creature he had become was both familiar and alien, a reflection of her own transformation. She felt a pang of sadness and kinship as she jump-hopped awkwardly into the stall next to him.

Settling into the new environment, Beth looked around at the rest of the herd. Each horse had its own story, its own stolen life. She wondered how many of them were like her and Alex, transformed from human to equine against their will.

As Beth stood there, the reality of her situation settled in. This was her life now, among this herd, in this exhibit. She was no longer a human with dreams, aspirations, and a life of her own. She was now part of EquiGen's collection, a living exhibit of the extreme capabilities of genetic engineering.

Her transformation was complete, and with it came the acceptance of her new existence. Beth Simpson was gone, and in her place stood Meadow's Grace, a creature of science, a testament to the blurred lines between nature and mankind's ambition.

9.8

After an indeterminate amount of time, a period where minutes and hours had melded into an undefined blur, Beth was stirred from her contemplative state by the approach of a figure. The person murmured softly to her, a voice that tugged at the edges of her fading human consciousness. She strained to recognize it, to connect it to her past life.

The figure climbed over the velvet rope, coming closer to her with a gentle yet determined demeanor. He spoke directly into her ear, his eyes searching hers for recognition. "Beth?" he said, his voice imbued with a mixture of hope and sorrow.

In that instant, a flicker of memory sparked within her. The voice, now so close and clear, was unmistakably Randy's. She should have recognized him by his scent, but her senses were overwhelmed by the newness of her equine form. Yet, his voice was unmistakable, a sound that resonated with the remnants of her human heart.

She responded with an excited nicker, shifting her weight from her left to right hoof in a display of recognition and affection. It was Randy, her husband, the man she had loved and shared a life with. Despite the profound changes that had befallen her, the bond they shared was still alive, buried deep within her altered being.

Randy's presence brought a rush of emotions – joy, sadness, longing – all converging into a poignant moment of connection. For Beth, now Meadow's Grace, Randy's visit was a lifeline to the world she had lost, a reminder of the love and life that once were.

As Randy continued to speak to her, his voice a soothing balm amidst the chaos of her transformation, Beth felt a sense of peace. In this moment, she was not just a creature, not just an exhibit; she was still Beth, a being capable of feeling and recognizing love. Their reunion, albeit in circumstances neither could have imagined, was a testament to the enduring power of their connection, a bond that transcended the boundaries of form and species.

9.9

As Randy's comforting presence began to retreat, another voice, one that Beth recognized with a sense of foreboding, beckoned him away. It was a voice that belonged to the world of her captors, a world that she was now forcibly a part of. She watched, her heart heavy, as Randy was led away from her.

In the depths of her transformed being, Beth mourned this parting. Yet, a flicker of hope remained alight within her. She clung to the belief that Randy would return; he had to. There was something crucial she needed to convey to him, a fragment of her former life that still held significance. But what was it? The transformation had muddled her memories, leaving her grasping at the edges of her human existence.

As she stood there, the realization dawned on her that communication would be her greatest challenge. How could she, in this new equine form, convey her thoughts, her feelings, her desires to Randy? The limitations of her new body were stark, and the prospect of bridging the gap between her equine existence and her human past seemed insurmountable.

But Beth's spirit, the core of who she once was, refused to succumb to despair. She had recognized Randy, felt the love they shared, and responded to his presence. There had to be a way to communicate, to make him understand what she needed to tell him. She just had to find it.

In the meantime, Beth, now Meadow's Grace, held onto the memories of Randy's visit. It was a reminder that she was not entirely lost, that a part of her still belonged to the world she had been torn from. And with that thought came a resolve to hold onto her identity, to find a way to reach out to Randy, and to cling to the hope that one day, she might find a way to bridge the vast divide that her transformation had created.

9.10

In her state of semi-consciousness, Beth, now existing in the form of Meadow's Grace, found herself drifting in and out of wakefulness. It was during these moments of lucidity that a number floated into her mind, clear and insistent: 1209. It was a number that held significance, a beacon in the fog of her transformed consciousness. She could visualize the digits distinctly: 1209.

The realization dawned on her that this number represented something crucial, a key to a part of her past life. It was the room number — the room where she had last been human, the room where something important, something vital for Randy to know, was located. But what was it? The details were hazy, obscured by the overwhelming changes her mind and body had undergone.

The frustration of being unable to recall the specifics was immense, yet the importance of the number was undeniable. It was a piece of a puzzle, a clue she desperately needed to pass on to Randy. But the challenge remained: how could she communicate this vital information to him? Her current form limited her to basic equine sounds and behaviors, far removed from the complexities of human language.

Beth pondered over this dilemma, her equine mind wrestling with the remnants of her human intellect. She needed to find a way, any way, to signal this number to Randy. Perhaps through a series of sounds, movements, or by interacting with objects in her environment. It was a daunting task, but the urgency of the message gave her determination.

As she lay there, the number 1209 etched firmly in her mind, Beth resolved to use whatever means available to her to convey this message to Randy during his next visit. It was a glimmer of hope, a small yet significant chance to influence events outside her stall, to reach out beyond the confines of her new existence and touch the remnants of the world she once knew.

9.11

As feeding time arrived, each horse in the exhibit, including Beth, was given a feedbag that was hung around their neck. Despite the strangeness of the situation, Beth found herself eagerly consuming the pellets inside the bag. The grainy texture was foreign yet oddly comforting to her transformed palate. Her hunger, accentuated by the transformation and the stress of her new existence, overpowered any lingering human aversion to eating in such a manner.

After feeding, they were led to a large water trough for a drink. The basic needs of sustenance and hydration were met, but in a way that starkly reminded Beth of her lost humanity and current state as an animal.

In a sudden burst of what could only be described as rebellious fury, driven by a mix of frustration, despair, and a desperate longing for her old life, Beth reared up. Her powerful new equine body responded with surprising agility, and she found herself plunging into the water trough. The cool water enveloped her up to her leg-pits, a brief and startling escape from the reality of her situation.

The commotion drew the attention of several men, who rushed over and began hitting her with their crops. The strikes were meant to be disciplinary, but in her transformed state, Beth barely felt them. Her equine body, much more resilient and tough than her human form, absorbed the impact with little more than a flinch.

With a surge of energy, she leaped back out of the trough, drenched in water. The act, though small in the grand scheme of her situation, was a moment of defiance, a brief reclaiming of agency in a world where she had been stripped of control and autonomy.

As she stood there, water dripping from her fur, Beth experienced a fleeting sense of empowerment. It was a reminder that, despite her transformation, a spark of her human spirit remained – defiant, unbroken, and yearning for freedom. The incident at the trough was a small act of rebellion, but for Beth, it was a crucial affirmation of her enduring will to resist her captors and the cruel fate that had been forced upon her.

9.12

Back in her stall, still soaked from her act of rebellion, Beth attempted to express her satisfaction with a grin. However, her transformed facial muscles and equine anatomy allowed for only a crude approximation, her lips pulling back to reveal her teeth. The simple human gesture of grinning was now beyond her capabilities.

Determined to communicate the crucial number, 1209, to anyone who might understand, Beth focused on the task at hand. Her hoof, still damp from the water trough, became her tool. She leaned against the stall wall, her movements awkward and strained due to her hobbled feet. The stall creaked under her weight, almost tipping over, but she persisted.

With careful, deliberate motions, she angled her hoof to use the residual water as a medium. Each movement was a challenge, a test of her dexterity and control in this new form. Slowly, she managed to scrawl out the digits "1209" in water droplets on the stall floor. The numbers were crude, barely recognizable, but it was the best she could manage under the circumstances.

The act of writing the numbers, even in such an ephemeral form, was a significant effort. It was an act of hope, a signal sent out into the world with the faintest hope of being understood. For Beth, it was more than just numbers; it was a message, a plea, a connection to her past life and a clue that could potentially bring Jerome Raskin down.

As she stepped back from her creation, Beth realized the fragility of her message. The water droplets would soon evaporate, the message disappearing as if it had never been. But it had to be enough. It was a testament to her resilience and her refusal to give in completely to her new identity as Meadow's Grace. In that moment, despite everything, Beth held onto the hope that Randy or someone else would see her message and understand its significance.