Rise of the Mega Horse
 
By
 
Desmond Fallout

 
	This day was going to be perfect. The kind of day of which she had dreamed since she was small. Months of hard, limb-aching, work were going to bear fruit into a bright future. Soon there would be a day in which she had it all.
 
	And then she crossed the finish line.
 
	"Two minutes fifty-eight seconds."
 
	Hazel would have responded with a string of unladylike curses, were she capable of speaking and not a horse. Fortunately, she had a perfectly good jockey to voice displeasure for both of them. Several nearby heads turned to watch the show of a short red haired man hope off his pony sputtering things even other horses found offensive. The poor high school kid that had timed their run looked ready to flee at the first signs of assault.
 
	"How the hell is that even possible!?" The man that had been riding Hazel settled for throwing his helmet at the ground. Earth was one of the less pricey things to damage in a fit of rage. "That's almost twenty seconds longer than Tuesdays practice."
 
	"I...I don't know what to tell you." Hazel felt a bit sorry for the kid now that the rush of her exercised was dying down. He forced out a few rapid apologies before getting away from the pair as fast as possible to time the next runners.
 
	The jockey stood fuming a while longer, eventually letting out a sigh before retrieving his helmet. Realizing the free show was over, the other denizens of the race track returned to their own devices. It did little to stop Hazel's ears from burning red. She still caught the occasional comment about their pathetic displays. Other race horses gave her condescending glances, that were ignored, as they trotted past.
 
	"Don't worry, girl." He gave the side of her neck a gentle petting looking more tired than she felt. That helmet had meshed his red hair into funny bent clumps and his brow sunk heavy in sweat. "We're getting to the top eventually."
 
	"This useless runt!?"

	There came a wheezing laugh followed by a smacking to Hazels rear. She, in turn, folded back her ears with an angry snort but resisted the urge to deliver a kick to the offender. Her riders day was bad enough without her outbursts adding to it.
 
	"Oh, uh, hey there Squid. Look, if you're here about the money again, I..."
 
	"I know you don't have it, Johnny boy. After finishing twelve races in last place, I'd be surprised if you had any money at all."
 
	The sleaze ball of a man swaggered into Hazels view. He was one of those people convinced he was so important everything about his appearance had to be multiplied ten over. All that sixties suit and mousse did was make him look like a back-up dancer for Grease and smell worse than the actual motor fluid.
 
	It was what the man represented that made the pair worry about his presence. John was a bit more restrained about showing his ire, though Hazel could smell the fear mixing into his sweat. One of those moments she longed to drape an arm around him in reassurance that were more frequent these days.

	"Oh, so what can I do for you? We were just resting up for some more practice laps."
 
	"You both look more ready to drop dead to me, but I'm not jockey." Squid ran his fingers across Hazels flank, making the horse visibly shudder. Neither of the men seemed to notice this though as they locked eyes. "Johnny...I do enjoy these social visits, but sadly the boss is done babysitting you. We're going to be taking the runt back this week."
           	
	"What!?" Hazel was more surprised by the shock in John's voice than the actual news. This sword had been dangling over their heads ever since he thought taking a loan for her purchase was a good idea. "But...but the last race of the season isn't until the end of the month."

	“Orders from the top, Johnny. Besides, you honestly think you still have a chance with this thing? I’ve seen newborns bigger and faster than her.”

	“Don’t you dare mock Hazel after all the training we’ve gone through. There’s plenty of time for her to get good enough for third place.”

	Hazel shook her mane with a loud snort, her way of laughing which breifly distracted the conversation. Oh, if only she had that kind of confidence in herself. Despite being the product of two of the region's best racers, she was a horse blessed with the worst a gene pool had to offer. Her body had no muscle, no endurance, and a stature that made other racers consider it a joke. Hell, it barely met the minimal requirements for racing, and that took a lot of coaxing from her temporary owner. If not for John’s oddly misplaced faith in her, Squid would have most likely made some spare cash selling a fresh source of dog food.

Some people just really like an underdog, she assumed. John often assured she was just a late bloomer, whatever that was. If anything it just made each lose harder to bear knowing such a kind man was giving all he was worth.

“It’s out of my hands,” Squid said, giving Hazel another pat. She could almost feel the snake oil seeping through her fur. “Unless you can get back ten grand overnight you two are done.”

“Get your hands off my horse!” Squid jumped back in surprise when John smacked the hand off Hazels flank. He smelled of regret immediately for that action, but still somehow kept a stern face. “Give us until the next race, Squid. Please! I can show you just how much our hard work has left these losers in the dust.”

Squid said nothing for an uncomfortably long time. His expression seemed to maintain a disbelief at being touched. They thought for sure he was going to pull out something, but instead just wiped his hand on the back of his pants.

“I’m coming to get the throwback in the morning.” His tone made both their skins crawl. “And I’ll be bringing friends. Try to keep that in mind as you watch her leave.”

With that, Squid turned without a parting gesture and made for the stables. He was not far before stopping to flirt with a female racer that was just setting up for her practice lap. It almost killed the mood the way she gagged on his smell.

“Come on, girl,” John said with a tug of her reigns. All energy had drained from his voice into the tired man he really was.

Hazel marched behind him wanting just as much to get away. They went on through past Squid into the racing stables to her usual stall at the very back, near the fire escape. There was not much; just a broken dirty mirror, and the typical food and water bins by the gate. The cheapest one could afford after blowing a life savings on a defunct horse. But for Hazels size it was pretty roomy, and much more homely than what was out on the track.

All the better was when John broke out the brush across her pelt.

“Don’t worry about Squid,” John said between strokes down her neck. It was a gentle tough. Almost enough to make her troubles vanish within the bristles. “I’ll find a way to keep us going until the next race. You just keep focusing on your training and we’ll win.”

And there went those feelings of bliss not even fur stroking could bring back. What Hazel would give to be able to scream at him. To yell and berate his delusions that she was nothing but a failure and he deserved better. She was not worth his affections, nor the hardships of loans bearing teeth on him. Anyone else would have seen that after months of training and failures, if not the second they looked to purchase her.

“I’m sorry I let you down, girl. Maybe my training method is too flawed.”

If only she could talk to him...

“If we can can just get this last chance, I promise to try harder. Find some nice expert advice online or something...”

If only she could HELP him...

“Heh! I wish I could understand you, for that matter. Sometimes it feels like you have more to say than I do.”

If only she was not so useless...

“Well, good night Hazel.”

Her tantrum of inner turmoil had been so intense Hazel had failed to even register the passing of time. Thankfully John was no better at understanding her distress than she was conveying it. He gave her a hug around the neck and a few parting reassurances before finally leaving. They did little to help Hazels mood as she continued to pace around the tiny stall. If anything a part of Hazel wished he would hate her. That would almost make things easier.

It took a long time, but eventually she became too tired to be angry. Hazel shuffled over to the large pile of blanketed hay and let gravity tip her onto it. She still got a minor satisfaction that was enough to cause a cloud of dried straw to burst out from under the hemp. Her gaze drifted up to the open sunroof where the evening stars were starting to become visible. Humans would say silly things like wishing to them would actually get what you wanted.

I wish I could somehow be useful to John. She brayed to the heavens. 

Hey, every little effort counts. Not that Hazel expected anything to change tomorrow, except perhaps her accommodations and a dramatic shortening of life. She eventually drifted off into a weary but deep sleep still hoping for a turn of luck.

Much too deep a sleep to notice the approach of police sirens.

“I told you this was a dumb plan!” Rob impressed himself by managing to utter that sentence in a single puff. Living at forty-two, going into two hundred fifty pounds, running was far down his list of enjoyed activities. Only the growing wails of police sirens made it remotely doable.

“We got the stuff, didn’t we?” Frank checked his right hand between strides. As if the small bag he clenched would somehow vanish if he failed to do so every couple of yards. “Besides, you could use the exercise.”

“Up yours! I wasn’t supposed to even get caught with you. The dragon better pay us in spades if I end up a felon for this.”

The pair of black-clad crooks wheeled around the first corner they came across. Zigzagging alleys had delayed their pursuit from the genetics lab two blocks away, but only by so much. Frank was just glad he had a patsy to ditch soon as he found a decent fence to jump.

“I’m sure his heart will bleed for your lose. Hey hold up!!” Frank skidded to a halt upon noticing the race track gates looming over the sidewalk before them. He grabbed onto Robs collar, nearly choking the chubby man as he tried to run past. “This is perfect, let’s cut through here!”

“You have got to be kidding. The cops are right there!”

	“Just shut up and give me a boost.”

	Rob openly protested this plan on the grounds of being left to rot. Objections that went unheard as his much fitter, stronger, cohort climbed over him as a boost over the wooden gates. He was much relieved after a few tense seconds that Frank propped himself back over to offer his hands in hoisting his accomplice over. A feat that proved more difficult in practice than on paper.

	“Hrrkk! How many snack cakes do you eat during research?”

	“I’m not that fat you ungrateful...oh buttmonkies! Pull!!”

	With lots of flailing and kicking, the pair got Rob’s posterior over the gate, but not before a cop car came rounding onto the street in full view of them. Then again, Frank much preferred that sight to Rob’s gut smashing across his face as they fell in a pile onto a solid dirt track.

	“Get off me, you sack of fat!” Frank used what muscles still worked to roll his partner off and climb to his feet, “Who the heck says ‘buttmonkies’?”

	”Mama didn’t like cursing...”

	“I swear, you make me want to...”

	Frank decided that venting frustration would have to wait. Sounds of crackling gravel filled the air while both men tensed at seeing red and blue lights flash through cracks in the gate. The lights continued on past, only to stop just beyond the gate. A soft clicking of opening car doors made Frank curse under his breath.

	“Come on! We’ll hide in the stables.”

	“Oh yeah, they’ll never think to look for us there!”

	“Idiot,” Frank hissed as he hefted Rob to his feet, practically dragging him along the track hoping that his fat friends outburst has somehow not been heard. “The dragon owns this race track. With any luck those pigs are either getting their palms greased or are too chicken to check around here.”

	“Most two bit robbers don't carry fifty grand in stolen chemicals.” Rob clenched his chest as if that could stop his heart from bursting burst out at any second. Legs almost toppled over each other trying to keep up.

	“Good point, but watch who you call two bit.” Frank pushed his partner into the stables before trying to silently slide the doors closed. Years of neglected hinge oiling did not aid him in this task. “Besides, whatever I got sent to steal must be worth a lot for all this security.”

	“Bah, of course the Dragon wouldn’t tell you.” Rob plopped onto a bale of hay heaving and fanning himself with one hand. Absently he glanced over his shoulder eyeing the contents of the horse pin. Their commotion had woken up some brown pony with a sandy blond man from its nap on a pile of blankets and hay. It stared back at him with a lazy side glance before rolling over to attempt sleep again. What an odd place to bring a newborn. Rob figured it looked barely large enough to carry him around the track, much less a rider.

	Forgetting about the horse just as quickly as it did him, Rob turned back to his lackluster thief of a friend. And then yelped to find Frank fondling a small glass vile he had pulled from his bag. The contents of which emitted a soft green glow that seemed entrancing.

	“C-carefull with that you ruffian!”

	“Relax, fatso, I’m not a butterfingers.” To which Frank proceeded to pull out three more vials in a display of juggling. Something he really started to enjoy when the fat man's face drained of all color. “So what is this glow stick filler for?”

	“Are you insane!?” Rob started to shout, but recovered enough to drop the last word to a low growl. “That’s Pantherstrike Industries experimental fitness formula. Just a drop enhances basic human characteristics tenfold.”

	“No kidding?” Frank stopped his goofing to admire a vial with a bit more respect. “Maybe you should take a swig for yourself while you got the chance. Heh.”

	“Like hell I am! I said that stuff is experimental for a reason. You could end up a pile of goo or some immobile mass of muscle for all I know. Not worth the Dragons current salary.”

	“For once we agree on something.” Frank started to bag the vials, feeling a lot more conscious, when a loud snort from behind Rob gave him pause to smirk. “Well there’s a worthless runt right behind you.”

	“Wha?” Rob’s face went from red with exasperation to white in horror in the time it took Frank to remove a vial stopper.

	“I’m sure the Dragon won’t mind us using a drop to make sure this amplifying thing works.”

	“Are you out of your mind!? Simulation tests showed an exponential growth in both physical structure and receptive senses in humans. I don't have the slightest idea what it'd do to an animal.”

	Frank ignored his protests and continued the advance, so Rob lunged at his partner with a surprising burst of strength. This was a bad thing, as the fat man had no hope of overpowering someone two feet taller than him already. The vial flew from Franks hand as the men collided with a resounding ‘whoomp.’ Its impact gave a light shatter on the tin roof of a feed bin while the men fell over each other. This was enough to disturb the tiny horse, though only enough for it to gaze at them dejectedly before turning back to its troubled sleep.

	“Look what you did!” Rob scrambled over his partner with complete disregard for their being. Most of the green gloop had dribbled into the bin of fresh feed, and he was far too scared to get within a few feet of what remained.

	“What I did?! The hell you flipping out for?” Frank got to his feet cracking knuckles at the fact his suit now reeked of unpleasant horse smells. “We were just going to give that runt a drop to see if your little research worked.”

	“And instead we lost a fourth of the whole take, well done!” Rob was too busy trying to find some possible way to take the stained feed with them to notice the larger man looming up from behind. “This is why the dragon doesn’t pay people like you to think.”

	“That so...?”

	Snapping Rob’s neck would have been so easy at this point. The remaining vials were secure, and there was no need to mention losing one. It was not like the fat, slow, weak excuse for a scientist had any use left. But it was not to be. Franks hands got within an inch of his companions head when the stables door thudded in resistance to an outside force trying to open them. Both men jumped while immediately forgetting their respective thoughts.

	“Open up! Police!”

	“You said they wouldn’t come here,” Rob squeaked as he ran in little circles desperate for an escape. Nothing but smelly stalls and riding gear far as the eye could see.

	Until his eyes caught sight of something...

	“Well the dragon can’t afford every pig on the payroll,” Frank said as he worked to brace the sliding door with a chair. “Let’s just figure a way out before more arrive...Rob...?”

	When there came no answer, Frank risked a look back. Just in time to see Robs large rear squeeze through an horizontal lifting window behind the stalls. There came an immediate splash upon hitting a rainwater trough, shortly followed by the fading of wet footfalls on pavement.

	“Oh you fat fffffffff-”

	The chair snapped, barely holding from another shove on the door, and prompting Frank to make a dive for the window himself.

	To say that the sight of cops still combing the race track well into next morning was an alarming sight would be an understatement. Considering everything else John had to worry about, a stroke might have been god's mercy killing. He made a panicked beeline straight to the stables, where a cop stopped him outside along with many of the other regular jockeys.

	“I’m sorry sir, you can’t go in yet.”

	“But...but my horse is in there!”

	“Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot.” The cop remained surprisingly calm despite not so subtle murmurs about his profession and hygiene from the gathered riders. “I assure you none of the animals have been harmed. But there was a break in and we need time to properly investigate the area.”

	“Can’t I at least see her for a second?”

	“Sorry, sir. If I let you in I’d have to let everyone in. There may have been some evidence left around.”

	“Zis ish an ootrage!” screamed a voice that made John and several other riders groan. The speaker was not hard to identify, since his lime green and black attire made him stand out like a sore thumb to the jockeys more common earth tones. With the large M.H. Initialed on the jersey front it was a common joke around the lodge that he was more primed for a royal dance than a race. “Ze Majestic Horse rider demands to zee his prized colt zis instant!”

	The cop seemed less annoyed by the screech of his voice than John sure felt. Not that he had to deal with it daily. “Sir, I told you; I’m not taking you seriously until you tell me your real name.”

	“Good luck with that,” John said, accidently too loud as it earned him a look of distaste from the chauvinistic jockey. He only gave his real name to race officials, and no one else liked him enough to ask.

	“Fine! Boot if vun hair iz out oof place on mah Beauty, I vill have your badge for mah next trophy!” With that the green man upturned his nose and strutted off to the lounge building with coat tails swishing inches from the dirt path.

	It made for a nice distraction, but apparently not good enough. John got his hands on the stable door when the cop placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.

	“I suggest the rest of you wait in the lounge as well. My superiors might have some questions to ask if we find anything.”

	John started to protest until that voice of common sense stopped him mid-sentence. Once the officer released his hold, he joined the rest of the group shuffling to the lounge. Idle hands found their way into open pockets, brushing against a slip of paper that sparked forgotten memories.

	“Might as well give Squids boss a call about that extension first...”

	Inside the stable was a lot more quieter. The last of the cops had finished their sweep of the interior and were now looking around the window and path their escaped thugs had taken the night before. Even without that ruckus from those two humans, Hazel would not have gotten much of a restful sleep. While the other horses paced around their pens in agitation for their delayed exercise, she mopped in a corner with thoughts lingering on John. His unwavering faith in her pathetic existence had doomed both their lives.

	As the police trickled out things quieted down to help calm Hazels nerves. This only did good in directing her full attention to the clenched muscles of an empty stomach. Eating was more on the bottom of her priority list, but she also figured there was no point getting sent to a glue factory hungry. Besides the feed bin had an alluring smell of citrus tickling her nose this morning. At least lady luck was generous enough to have a stable boy give her Majestic’s seasoned feed by mistake.

	Soon as her snout stuck in for a mouth full that horse was hooked. The simple act of chewing became a sensational distraction. There was a strange tartness to the grass that stabbed at her tongue, followed by a chilling sweetness that seemed to travel down her throat with the food being swallowed. As if the smell was not addicting enough. By the time the last cop left the stable she had a slight bulge in her middle with a belly gurgling it’s satisfaction at having something to digest for a while.

	Hazel began to pace around her pen with tail held high. That unexpected treat had felt surprisingly invigorating. No wonder Majestic always seemed to enjoy his food. Its smell remained engraved on her nostrils while the sweet aftertaste continued to flutter around her tongue. She wanted to savor it and pretend she had no troubles for as long as possible.

	Around the third lap her pace came to a crashing halt. Quite literally, as all four knees buckled, hoofs slamming onto the dirt in an attempt to catch some balance. Like many things physical, reflexes were not a strong point of Hazel's. She ended up crashing into Johns work table, snapping in half before Hazel's side hit the ground underneath. Even for a runt, she was still a horse.

	Hazel climbed back onto her hooves, though they refused to stop shaking. A strange dizziness swept over her head making it hard to stand much less move. Loud gurgling noises began to emanate from her stomachs. There walls clenched and shifted as if struggling to digest the recently acquired food. No wonder they would give her gourmet food if it was spoiled rotten. But Hazel did not feel like she was going to be sick, just very strange. The effects seemed to be slowly spreading out from each belly. Bit of muscle twitched and flexed all across Hazels middle.

	A particularly hard jolt in her flank caused Hazel to kick her left leg and almost topple over again. She let out a panicked whinny while spreading out her hooves to catch herself, but was still overcome with the sensation of falling.

Seconds later her ears perked in confusion at not having hit solid ground.

Hazel risked a look down while taking several deep breaths. She was still standing perfectly on all fours, so what was with this odd sense of vertigo? Looking around the rest of the stable it quickly became apparent why; she was growing!

It was like stepping onto a slowly rising platform. Moments ago her ears had barely been visible over the wooden fence. Now she was starting to get a clear view of the other pens with the horses contained therein. Many of whom had heard her cries and were looking over with various degrees of interest.

Her neighbor, a grayish mare named Twilight-something, had stuck her head over to check the commotion. They were just as surprised as Hazel to find themselves staring at equal eye levels. It was when Hazel began to have to bend her neck to look down that Twilight decided to back off. It was an unusual role reversal for most of the horses there.

Not that Hazel was in a state to care. Her gaze was too busy whipping around the place to make sure she was still in her body and not a ghost floating away. It did not help there was suddenly a lot less pen space to circle around.

Large twinges down the front made Hazel stop to stare at her legs. They were long and sleek. Two adjectives that no one would ever considered using to describe her. She let out a disgruntled snort feeling something give in her hooves. All four of the metal horseshoes had detached, looking dainty under the platforms they used to be nailed on. It was hard to consider those limbs were still hers. 

Twitches and squeezes of various muscles helped dissolve any beliefs of this being a mere dream. They were happening all over her body in rapid earnest. Often in places Hazel was not aware she had any muscle. Watching closely, they could actually be seen shifting and flexing under the chestnut fur. Hazels skin moved about in ripples leaving behind an odd sense of firmness.

Why became apparent for her fur was rapidly growing taunt, sinew bulging against it to form rough ridges. Hazels jaw and ears dropped at skin trying to keep her muscles contained. A cramp between the shoulders caused her to hunch forward with a loud snort. Then with a loud snapping they spread to relieve the stress, broadening with increased thickness.

Hazel was not concerned about that. Her neck stayed bent down to admire the way her chest billowed out with each labored breath. Lungs pressed against her rib cage as they expanded, seeming to cause the bones themselves to spread with multiple soft pops. A few more gulps of air and her chest had billowed out with enough lean muscle that some of the observing mares scowled in envy.

Ripples surged up past Hazels shoulder, causing her to shake her head with a disgruntled snort. She froze in shock before giving another deliberate snort. The usual noises she made were starting to sound deeper, stronger, to match the rest of the changes. Even her mane felt a bit denser as it swished against a thicker neck.

A very powerful twinge struck Hazels right flank, evaporating whatever dignity her improve physique earn with a high pitched whinny. A second one struck her left side, making her reflexively buck her rear a good two feet into the air. Hazel turned to see what had smacked her backside and blushed. Her hindquarters were not spared an upgrade at having grown nearly twice their normal size, none of which in fat. The sight of those thighs grafted with the unbridled sinew of a draft horse began to stir feelings of panic into an onset of hope. The cults certainly did not seem to mind this improvement to her derriere. A lot of the horses had started to get in closer to their fences for a better view of this once joke of a racing horse. 

Hazel was too excited to care about them. Somehow, someway, her wish had come true. Now she could finally be of use to the man that saved her life. This spontaneous growth had easily made her a champion sized horse, maybe even larger than the strongest in this stable. A notion helped when she turned to notice her startled buck had blasted a hole in the wall.

Regardless, Hazel began to trot in place spouting happy brays. All those stares of jealously the others were giving fueled a newfound confidence. Oh yeah! They knew all of Hazels hard work was finally going to pay off. Her late blooming had come in. And nothing anyone was going to do could stop her now.

Except maybe for strange cramps in her fore hooves.

Hazel stared down the trembling platforms coming off her victory high. The tingles were not stopping, she realized with dissipating joy, only becoming more focused on certain parts. It felt like their insides were shifting, expanding. Hazel clopped at the ground as her weight altered between them. A sound that seemed to be getting softer with each slap of the ground. The hard shell was brightening from its normal black to become almost as brown as her fur. It was almost like she was wearing a hard shoe that was becoming really, really, tight...

CRRRRACK!!

Hazel reared back on her hind legs in a whinny of panic, kicking forelegs as if to somehow throw the source of her horror off. In one mighty flex her fore hooves had cleaved into five sections. Joints she had never known before flexed of their own accord, uncurling to their full length. Four jutted straight out into the air, while a fifth stuck out off to the side of her palms. All of which with amazingly dexterous while still keeping tips cloven like stone. They looked just like the digits John had.

SNN-AAP! POP!

Something ground hard in Hazels hips suddenly relinquishing gravities pull on her upper body. Ears range out with loud popping while they spread outward into a very wide curve from her waist. The task of walking upright suddenly got much easier, although she staggered about in clumsy clops trying to adjust to the sudden change of balance.

"Nnngghh!!" Hazel grunted through clenched teeth feeling her rear muscles clench. Both cheeks jutted out in a surge of additional sinew that washed down her legs in a wave. Thighs became slightly longer, becoming thick and supple. Calves bulked considerably with muscle for better supporting the bulk of her weight.

At the time it dawned on Hazel she had just made a human noise there was no chance to wonder. Both shoulders gave out a loud 'CRACK,' and their connected forelegs slumped down to rest against her plump hips. Tension at the base of the neck caused Hazel to hunch forward with another moan. Her left shoulder shot out, followed by the right. Forelegs gave off a slow, grinding noise as they rotated into the newly formed sockets. Did the leg joints break? No. She found them just as capable of lifting, in fact more so, with a bit of experimenting. She found they could extend out to the sides with ease. Even reaching around to feel her shapely rump. Blond horse tail remained attached to the top waving across that backside like a curious flag.

Things were happening too fast for Hazel to take in. New forces pushed at her spine so that the horse would jut upright thrusting her chest out. Vertebrae sung out in a series of rapid pops while it developed an inward curve down to its thick tail and giving her hips a bit more lift. It helped maintain a better balance at least while the mare staggered about her pen.

Especially when her ribcage collapsed so suddenly it almost knocked Hazel off her hooves. The bones developed sharp ridges while the organs they housed sloshed about into an arrangement more comfortable for quadrupedal walking. It smoothed out her torso nicely, taking off all the forward weight that kept her on all fours. 

"Aaahh!!" Something stung her eyes, forcing them to squeeze shut. Hazel could do little but try to remain still and standing as the apex of the changes came sweeping over her head. It was a mix blessing. Just feeling her skull pull closer to her shoulders was awkward enough without seeing it. Then came the odd pulling as her face felt like it was stretching wider. Teeth clanked together in irritation from a muzzle broadening, gaining amounts of skin to form cheeks. Only to have cold tears streak down them when the eyes themselves felt pinched, almost as if they were moving together. Even Hazels mane itched considerably as it became effected. There was certainly a lot more hair sweeping across her back fur than usual. And John kept her well groomed for safe racing.

She got so overwhelmed by the unseen sensations that it was a full minute before Hazel realized they had stopped. With great reluctance her eyes risked opening.

And she almost lost her balance again from a sudden onset of depth perception. It took a minute to realize her eyes had been moved into the front of her skull. It was a bit of a restricted wall vision, having to stare straight ahead, but a much sharper one. That was when Hazel caught sight of herself in the mirror over her feeding bin.

The first thing she noticed was her eyes. Gone was the almost solid, vacant, blackness, replaced with whites surrounding burning red pupils. They were indeed aligned in sockets at the front of her skull working muscles with the additional ones of her cheeks to make expressions. Specifically one of shock, if her observations of people served true. And with good cause...

She was human!

Well, sort of human. Hazels face was still long and angular with an equine snout. Pointy animal ears wiggled through the thick mess of yellow hair near the top of her head. The parts of her blond mane that had vanished from her neck must have decided to add onto the locks that remained, for they now ticked at her waist while she twisted and turned for a better look. Hands flexed in experimental firsts as they brushed along the fine fur of her curved womanly torso and hips. And despite her legs being full and supple they still ended in hard cloven hoofs. Their clopping footsteps proved fairly audible. It was like staring at a mix of the two finest aspects of human and horse.

A notion better emphasized when a fluttering made Hazel gasp, hands flying up to grasp her chest. Not moments later her flesh billowed out to push back against her hold. With each rapid breath two furry mounds rose bigger and fuller, their softness starting to warp between the gaps in her fingers. When it stopped she let the odd growths go, feeling their heavy weight pull her as they fell to hang from her chest. She blinked at the mounds that slightly obscured her view of the ground before looking back to the mirror. Then she turned resting one hand under them while another reached back to rest on her rear. A classic profile shot she had seen sometimes in magazines stage hands left around. She murred at what she saw, now a complete human female profile with their type of udders.

Although Hazel was not aware she was at least twice as endowed as any woman she had ever seen during race days.

Forget how or why; with the anxiety gone Hazel began to strike any sort of poses she could recall in admiration of her new form. Many of which an average man would have considered a huge striptease, provided they were willing to overlook the swaying horse tail. Maybe this was not her wish, but wish had come true none the less. Perhaps she could learn to speak like John in this form. That alone sent her in a jitter. They could finally understand each other on a level they had both been longing for. She could finally tell John...

"All right already! You can get back to your racing, folks. Thanks for your patience."

...that their first meeting as equals was not supposed to be done bare naked and struggling to hold her bowles. A cop had spoken outside with no attempt to hide his irritation. The sounds of stable doors being unlocked and grinding open jolted Hazel back to where she was and what had happened to her. Human law people were still all over this place, and she had no idea how to properly communicate with them. Even if she could, it is not like she had any clear understanding of why she was standing on hind legs in the middle of an animal pen. What would a human even do at seeing a creature like her?

And the fear only got worse at the sound of rapid footsteps approaching.

"Hazel!? Are you all right back here?"

Hazel had become many things, but 'all right' was not one of them. This was certainly not a good place or time to show off fates new gifts. She raced in little circles around the room debating heatedly between trying to hide under her straw bed or taking her chances diving out the window. The mares muscles were tensing in desperating to make something happen. She found herself actually wishing to go back to her scrawny normal body again.

Suddenly something gave inside Hazel. Gravity reasserted it's hold by yanking her forward with a startled yelp. Eyes snapped close as hands managed to catch her landing just a John came up to her gate.

"Hazel!? What the...oh my gosh! How could this have happened!?"

Hazel let out a pathetic whimper not daring to open her eyes. This was the part where he ran away screaming from the freakish horse monster. Good bye new life before it ever began.

"What did those robbers do to your pen!?"

Hazel opened her eyes fairly perplexed. Not from Johns outburst, but that her vision was back to the sideways wider scope she had grown accustomed. A glance at the mirror left her amazed to why. The mare reflected showed the pathetic shrimp of a race horse Hazel used to spend hours glaring at with guilty loathing.

John never noticed her distress. He was too busy gawking over the hole she had kicked through during her growth spurts. Even after he stormed off to have a few choice words with the departing officer, Hazel found herself constantly shifting looks between wreckage and the mirror. If not for their existence, the whole event seemed like a surreal dream.

One, she began to wonder, if it could be relived.

"Well, you're alright now, aren't you girl?" John said once he had returned a second time to show the stable hands the damage. "That's what's important after all. And good thing too; it took a bit of begging but Squid said we can have the next race to try winning back his money. Now I've got some new racing ideas so if we plan this right..."

Johns words, like the rest of the day, went as normal for the pair as it could have. Worse in fact, as Hazel finished all her practice runs over three minutes. Sensations of becoming humanized continued to repeat in her mind, making it hard to concentrate. Regardless her failures brought on the usual jeers of other racers. They always gossiped about how the owners intentionally kept them to make even the second-to-last place racer look good. John would then give his little pep talks to try and keep her spirits up. Hazel would often suspect those were for his benefit more than hers. She really wanted to try speaking to tell him, but dared not risk it. At least not until she had time to understand this morning's events a bit better.

Only thing that had visibly changed since yesterday, no one noticed, were the other horses. They had ceased their efforts to intentionally bump against Hazel, or give fierce nips at her sides as they passed. In fact they seemed a bit afraid to get close to her. Some did not even risk looking in her direction.

Practice could not end fast enough. A rare feeling for Hazel, but this time she had a reason to want to be away from everything. Eventually the sun completed its journey below the western horizon and racers began to pull their steeds back into their pens. Another bright side showed itself. Thanks to her pens need for repairs being blamed on last night's visitors, Hazel had to be put in a spare first class pen meant for champion runners. John marveled that this might be their new home after they won. Hazel was looking forward to having a room with some space.

John spent the next hour brushing Hazel in renewed enthusiasm. One thing even a horse had to admire was the man's ability to bounce back quick. Hazel barely paid attention to the speeches about how her training was going to be 'stepped up a notch.' Somewhere in there came promises of going on a milkshake diet to make himself lighter load for her.

And to think this human never had a mate.

Eventually he finished up, gave Hazel one more encouraging whisper, and finally left the mare alone in the temporary accommodations. Shambling over to the pile of hay she saw it was covered in actual cotton blankets. Something Hazel was all too happy to plop down on. It was nice hazing a place to sleep that smelled like it got cleaned regularly. Sleeping would have to wait though.

Another hour would pass before all but the basic stable lights went out. Something the last stable hand did regular as clockwork. Now convinced all the humans were gone, Hazel got back up and moved nervously to the mirror. Time to answer the question that had been haunting her all day. 

And that was when she realized there was no idea how the transformation happened in the first place. Part of the horses mind was convinced it was still all a deluded dream brought on by desperate hope. And if it was not, that still left the question on how she could make it happen again.

There was nothing for it. Hazel half closed her eyes and tried tensing her muscles. In the back of her mind their came the visualization of that beautiful humanized form, which she reached out for with longing to become again. Not her brightest tactic but after a few seconds something did seem to be happening. Tensions rose across her body, muscles being squeezed by an alien force.

"Whoah!!" And suddenly all the tension released. Hazel's hips sprung back propelling her up onto hind legs. Fore hooves blossomed out into cloven fingers attached to sleek arms before she finished rearing up. The changes happened much faster this time. It only took a few seconds her reflection bulked out and then piled on feminine curves to become humanized once more.

The Hazel reflection made an experimental fist, then flexed the arm itself to admire the way biceps tensed. She then looked up to give the real Hazel a grin that spanned her whole muzzle. This was no dream. It was a miracle!

"Whiiiiny!" Hazel tried to express her joy and blushed. At least her voice sounded sultry and human despite animal habits. She cleared her throat trying to recall the sounds John made when he talked. Not hard since he did that a lot. "H...h-hellooooy? M-my ne...neeigh. Name! My n-name is H-Haaazel!"

Okay, she was talking with the articulation of a sick four year old, but she was talking. A feat any horse would find cause to celebrate over.

Hazel noticed a bit of an oddity in the excitement of speaking. There was still a bit of tension in her body. A minor and easy to ignore sort of feeling in her gut, but unmistakably like the kind right before her body changed. As if to say there were still abilities to be explored. Excited to take up the unspoken invitation, Hazel focused her mental switch to drive this body for all it was worth.

Turned out it was worth more than a simple horse could ever desire. Muscles grew with such an intensity they audibly groaned loud enough to wake some of the other horses. Just in time to witness Hazel shot up several inches in a single spurt. And then another. Her reflection had filled up the mirror and continued to expanding beyond all its dimensions. Already her prized champion pen was becoming just as confined as that recently abandoned rut in the corner.

But she was not just growing larger. Hazel but her lip while cupping her breasts. They were jiggling like jell-o molds from each little surge piled on several cup sizes in a rush. Not wanting to be outdone, her butt and hips puffed up in layers of sinew until it was going to be difficult to get through doors.

It was the muscles that really got Hazel blushing. They groaned and strained in a non-stop symphony as if completing one strenuous task after another. And yet there showed no signs of fatigue. In fact, little moans and whinnies seethed through her bit lip from the rushes of pleasure assaulting her mind. Like receiving the world's best body massage from a skilled octopus.

And soon it began to show physically. All the mirror could show now was a reflection of Hazels abs. Which was a good enough view past her massive bust to see it firming up. On the next spurt it bulged out to create three sets of firm ridges right down to her navel. Hooves alternated the weight trying to flex out their connected thighs. They had not lost much suppleness, but continued to bulge with noticeable ridges from the hard sinew stretching the fine brown fur taunt. Hazel reached down to feel them only to notice her arms. She gave them a good flex and whinnied at the sight of biceps humans might have problems wrapping both arms around.

That was when another surge made Hazels ears brush against a wooden support beam. All at once the ramifications of her growth compared to her location's capacity became apparent. And her body did not feel ready to stop anytime soon.

Hazel ducked down with a yelp just in time to avoid smacking her head on the beam with the next spurt. Somehow she managed to roll out of her pen without causing visible harm to it, only now the arranged fences pinched at her swelling butt, and having breasts felt less pleasant when they were scratching against a hay covered floor. Trying to scrunch up, in an ironic attempt to stay smaller, she moved hands and knees towards the big barn door. Lady luck seemed to favor her as the stage boys had forgotten to lock it up for the weekend. Even so getting it open without tearing it apart was difficult. Her pinkies could barely work the handle.

Finally she got it open and managed to crawl on squished breasts outside before a surge could take the wall with her. Once out in the cold air, Hazel rolled onto her back and exhaled letting all her tension out at once. What resulted was not a spurt, but a growth explosion. It was so fast and powerful it made her hooves dig up large chunks of earth as they spread over the race track. Something she could not worry about until the mind-numbing pleasure finally left her minutes later.

Hazel eventually forced herself into a sitting position rubbing her temples. Her body still tingled from the rush and vision would not stop shaking, but at least it felt relaxed. This must have been a sign of reaching her bodies limits. A bit of a relief for Hazel. Things were starting to get scary.

She glanced over at the stables to check for any damage. Nope. The roof looked perfectly fine from where she was sitting. Hazel hunched over to get a look at the doors. Looked like her rear had stressed some of the paint off but nothing anyone would probably give much attention. The trenches she dug while kicking her hooves might be a problem though. A few of them ran a couple feet deep at their end. They would have to be filled back up and even then people might get suspicious of freshly dug mounds.

Almost like an afterthought, Hazel's mind utilized something that made her head whip back to the stable. Here she was, shapely butt in the dirt, looking over the roof of her stables as casually as if it were a table. After several deep breaths, Hazel worked up the nerve to slowly climb onto her hooves. That brought the buildings highest point to her waist. Heck, there was a clear view over the fences out into the nearby city.

A passing car made Hazel promptly sit back down before someone could spot her looming over the racetrack. The impact made a soft 'thwomp' that created a dust cloud. The mare stared dumbstruck at the massive breasts heaving up and down with her lungs. One hand lifted up to cup its adjacent mammary. The way her furred flesh spilled over cloven tipped digits felt oddly therapeutic.

 Forget becoming human, she was large as a building with the muscle structure to be thrice as strong, and six times as plushy, as any woman she had ever seen. Even without the tons of muscular power she could demolish this track with just her udders at this size. It reminded her of those comic books that got left around the stables sometimes. Something large like her usually got the grand title of 'titan' or 'goddess.'

Was this her real self?

A loud gasp rocked Hazel out of her pensive trance. Of course one of those lazy teenagers would choose tonight to work overtime, or perhaps he just fell asleep trying to steal hours. Either way, he had come out of the storage silo just in time to get thwacked from the thrashing of her bristled tail. Fortunately the bale of hay he was carrying cushioned some of the blow. Not that it seemed to help as the impact exploded it into a cloud of grass while the poor boy went flying several feet back onto the silo wall before falling to the ground.

Hazel meeped timidly, rolling onto all fours to peer over her unintentional victim. Just great to see her bad luck was the only thing that never changed. Thirty seconds as a giant horse woman and her first interaction with humans is to kill one. Being very careful, she inched down an index finger to jostle at the boy's body. Apparently his flight only resulted in a mild headache. Soon as fingertip made contact, the boy leapt to his feet screaming at the top of his lungs.

"MONSTER HORSE DEMON!!"

She whimpered, but did nothing to stop his flight into the main building. If anything Hazel was impressed he could run so fast with a limp. Hopefully she had not broken anything. She shifted back to her normal humanized form soon as he was gone and dashed back into the stables. After slamming and securing the doors, she made her way back to her pen before dropping to all fours as her scrawny old self.

Silence fell across the race track until about an hour later when a police car showed up at the front gate. The strange boy ran out franticly to great them as Hazel watched. There was a pang of guilt at seeing he had bandages on his right knee and head. More so when, soon as the gate was open, the cop berated him for wasting city resources on a 'prank call.' Thankfully he only tongue lashed the boy for what felt like forever before getting back into his car and peeling out. Hopefully he did not get blamed for those trenches later.

It was not until the stage boy had left, and then well into the A.M. that Hazel convinced herself to go back outside. Even then her mood of practicing these transformation powers had been totally deflated. She did look like a monster all right. After all, she was looking out of the town with a hand resting on the silo roof, long blond hair and tail whisking in the wind like raised flags. Thank goodness there were no large buildings around the track.

It took a lot of deliberating but Hazel made up her mind. There was no way John could know about her powers. If a simple random boy reacted this badly, what would her owner think seeing the animal he gave everything up believing in turn into some lumbering monstrosity.

After doing her best to smooth out the holes in the ground she shifted back to humanized form. Hazel liked making it intentionally slow as the feeling of muscles flexing felt very good regardless if they grew or shrank. A grim sigh escaped her muzzle when she reached the preferred size. This was becoming easier than she thought, yet with all this power irony left her in a state of still losing everything she had left. Anything she did with them just seemed to make things worse.

Fingers fused back into hooves as she settled into all fours. Might as well burn out some anxiety with a few lapse...around...the...

Hazel would have face palmed were her forelegs capable of doing such at the moment. The solution was so obvious it deserved a smack upside the head for missing it earlier.

It was a weekend, so Hazel got plenty of time to spend on practicing form shifts. People came in briefly to feed or visit their horses while they rested. Sadly Hazel never spotted the boy she knocked again. She would have loved to apologized, but reasoned that might make him wet his pants.

He did leave some of his things behind. Specifically those comic books that always caught Hazel's interest. There was little else in the way of reading materials around the track. Hazel had gone through the large cartoonish books left in the daycare really fast. It was just enough to learn basic reading and now she had something interesting to practice speech on. Although her equine colleges did not appreciate a reading of Spider-man well into sunrise. When Monday rolled around, Hazel began to put a master scheme into motion.

"Hhnngggh!" Try as he might John could not get the leather strap to wrap any tighter, but he did a great job squeezing the air out of Hazels lungs. Eventually he had to relent to securing the saddle one notch above the usual with a blanket used to keep it from sliding. "Wow, girl. You must have really taken my advice about eating more. That's good, more energy to burn feeding everyone our dust."

He gave hazel a pat and moved off to get dressed into a jockey uniform. It never dawned on him that Hazel's knickers were an attempt at giggling. Not all mass had gone into her stomach, but even the most astute eye would never notice. Hazel continued to finish her laps well behind any of the other racers. The best got clocked at around two minutes and fifty seconds flat.

A typical day a practice. Only John noticed the slight improvements.

"That was amazing girl!" he would say in various forms while brushing her down for the night. He even bought her an apple from the vending machine. Icky granny smith, but a gesture Hazel would never refuse. "I knew things would improve with a little rest and eating. I can practically see your muscles growing."

"Tut tut! Vat udder nonsinse! As if slightly better faiure was cause for celebration." The green dressed rider glared at them as he passed. His horse, Beauty, was always a top placer and it showed. He towered Hazel over twice her size and muscle mass.

For now...

Soon as the track lights went off Hazel was opening her pen to strut back outside. Well, more like an awkward waddle to the sounds of clumsy clopping. Learning to walk on two legs over the weekend had been a lot harder than anticipated. The contestant shifting of her udders and hips did little to help. They required equally constant adjusting of tail and weight to keep some balance. It got even worse when she grew into the giant muscled form, where her curves got so large looking straight down was near impossible. If only all that soft fat made falling down any easier. Just the opposite; the more her flesh grew the more tender it seemed to get.

The other horses left Hazel to her own devices, which was a welcomed change. It confused a few jockeys when their rides refused to get close enough for proper razzing on John. They had to settle for shouting insults which ended fast thanks to the judgmental glares of spectators. Only Beauty seemed to be unafraid of the scrawny runt that turned into a juggernaut every time the humans left. Some still shied away when she got close, but when it became apparent Hazel had no interest in abusing her new form on revenge several of the colts began to express interest in her nightly practices. They stayed at a safe distance, of course, as they gave knickers of approval at the mare butt sashaying past.

Hazel was hardly bothered by it. Heck, she was not used to positive feedback of any kind. Some of them were even a bit sweet on her when they did not have to jump on a bandwagon.

Practice was paying off, as John would always say. She managed to walk out of the stables over to the jockey lounge with but a single clash with the ground. Nothing her firm backside could not take. Getting inside after hours had been the easiest problem. Everyone knew the stable boys left their spare key under the mushroom shaped rock. Hazel undid the lock the way she had learned over the past two nights and helped herself inside.

The jockey lounge itself was at least three decades behind the times. There were the basic machines on wall counters; coffee, microwave, fridge, and a TV. Several tables and chairs decorated the middle space. Hazel had yet to find one that did not wobble on uneven legs. One of the windows had been all but removed to make way for an AC that took up its entire frame. Granted all it served was to keep out the weather, as it looked rusted enough to crumble apart if she poked it. The only thing that seemed remotely new were the ceiling fans and lights that hummed to life as she flicked their switch upon entering. From there she could see the hallway that extended along the far wall towards the back of the building where lockers and showers were maintained. The smell that occasionally breezed from that way burned her equine shnoze. thank goodness she had no reason to go back there, save for the occasional need to dispose of waste the way other people did.

Humming a merry tune, Hazel scooted around chairs to the fridge. Not much in the way of leftovers tonight. Humans had a strange tendency to just leave their meals half finished, so she was more than happy to do the cleanup crews job. Tonight's menu seemed to consist of two bottles of vitamin water, a half drunken can of soda, something wrapped in foul looking crumbly and smelling of dairy, and half a sandwich smelling mainly of fish. All of which found its way into Hazel's stomach. Perhaps it was the constant transformation shifts, or just a general change in her organs, but the horse-girl had found herself with an increased appetite. A bit of a mixed blessing since the food humans came up with tasted so amazing. There was some excitement not knowing what something would taste. Like that burrito last night that had her on the floor in tears. Apparently some humans liked to intentionally torture their senses with hot peppers.

Once she had eaten Hazel turned her attention to the TV. This strange human device fascinated her more than anything yet. It was one of those tiny boxes that still ran on tubes, yet always seemed to have something happening to grab a horses undivided attention. She watched people do everything from playing games with odd shaped balls, to trying to sell her stuff over something called a 'phone.' There were even shows that seemed to be living incarnations of the comics she reads. The pictures would move about as if they were alive like her and it was surreal to see. She especially liked this one program that played often at night. It was about some sort of pet rabbit that got zapped by a defective ray gun and turned into a human-ish creature much like Hazel. Even better the ray gave her all sorts of super powers, like flying through the sky, seeing through walls, and freezing things just by breathing on them.

"The Adventures of Lightning Bunny," the static voice would announce, followed by a cheesy theme song that Hazel happily joined in singing. It was not like anyone was there to say she sounded like a rock tumbler.

After an hour of cheering for her idol, occasionally standing up to mimic her action moves, Hazel left the lounge onto the track. Under the light of a waxing moon she began to squat and stretch out her legs like athletes did on news reports. At the same time her ears flicked and twisted about listening intently for any signs of humans. Once she was certain of some privacy she broke out into a hard jog. Hoofed feet thudded the ground in rhythm to gasping exhales for the next two hours. Around her tenth lap across the campus did she finally feel too winded to carry on. That and her rear was getting sore from pounding the ground. Still this feat greatly impressed her. She had no idea what her body was capable of so looked for any chance to 'try out' her new forms.

Granted she hesitated to go full on giant for fear of leveling the track to the ground. A method for testing her strength was sure to present itself eventually. Besides it was getting late, and she had to reluctantly get back to the stables in horse form for a nights rest.

This double life became Hazel's routine as she and John marked off the day's towards the big race. Only this time feelings of hope were stirring in the back of their minds. Every morning, just before John would arrive, she would flex her power to add a bit more muscle to her feral form. And every time it resulted in several seconds shaved off their practice runs. Then she had a few hours after closing to enjoy and experiment with her new shape shifting powers before collapsing on hay blankets for a hard rest. It was all just gradual enough to be noticed, but not draw overt suspicion. The teasing soon ground to a stop. While many of the other jockeys tried to still brush Hazel off as a reject born she could smell an anxiety growing on them. John suddenly stopped becoming such a funny joke when Hazel became big enough they could look the opposition in the eye.

Which is why, after two weeks, Hazel found herself getting needles jabbed in her butt by veterinarians.

"Zis ish outragious!" bellowed the majestic horse rider. He was but one of many jockeys watching Hazel's checkup, but was the most vocal. "Zhere ish no way zis ish the same horse without cheating!"

"And I'm telling you it's legit," replied the doctor while he fiddled about with some equipment. "You've had me test this horse twice already and i doubt this third one will result in any steroids or hormone imbalances either. Maybe you should all stop wasting time acting like gits and train like these two."

John beamed at his competition not feeling a need to add anything. It was true. Hazel was barely recognizable, having finished the very gradual shifting into her improved horse form yesterday. She stood just as tall as Beauty, with a bulging muscle stature to match. Her saddle sat snuggly tied by its final notch looking comically small on her back. John even needed a step ladder just to mount her like most jockeys.

John had not been slacking off either. His frame had slimmed down a touch from a mix of diet shakes and cardio work outs. It really made Hazel want to thank him for all his sacrifices just once. She had come to speak English rather well thanks to the constant TV watching and comic book reading. Shame a talking horse would dismantle all her plans in the span of one second.

The doctor finished collecting his blood samples and bid John good luck in today's race. Other jockeys left with him, though not before casting withered glares at the pair. It did nothing to phase John, who practically bounced off the walls.

"Hah ha! What did I tell you, Hazel!?" He gave her a hug around the neck. A much harder feat for him to do now sadly. "The timing could have been better but this is our payday. Everything we've worked for and finally we're going to win our race."

Hazel flickered her tail with a gentle clopping. For the first time in her life, she believed those words.

"I would vatch myself if I vere you. Hard verk ish not the only vay to vin a race." The majestic horse rider gave a curt tip of the hat before departing last.

"I wonder what he means by that."

Outside, the race track was abuzz with activity. Thirty minutes from race time people were putting in their last minute bets, grabbing last cups of diluted beer, and looking to find a seat among the stands.

Squid happened to be rushing around one of the executive boxes making sure everything was prepared. Today was going to be his pay day. And, as an added bonus, he got to watch Johnny fail like the idiot he was one more time before taking that gene disaster of a horse to the glue factory. Everything had to be perfect, for just as he finished setting out bowls of assorted cracker snacks than a shadow casted itself over the box.

"Good morning, Squid," rumbled a deep voice politely. It belonged to a brute of a man stomping his way into the box. He had very little black hair on his head, with beady grey eyes sunk into a fat face, and almost no neck to speak of. It had been swallowed by the mass of his muscular shoulders. They traveled down to arms fit snuggly around a black tuxedo ending with hands capable of crushing a coconut in their palms.

Despite his appearance, the man composed himself with upright professionalism. There was even a bit of teeth showing in his smile to Squid. Something the slimy little man was happy to return.

"Glade you could make it, Mr. Dragon. Sorry I haven't gotten a chance to fetch us drinks yet."

"Bah! The stuff they serve here is garbage anyway." The large man fell into a pair of chairs, which he easily filled up to use their adjacent arm rests. "And I told you to call me Anderson in public."

"Right. Right. Sorry, I just like to stay professional. So ready to make a whole lot of money, Mr. Dr...Mr. Anderson?"

"Just Anderson, Squid." The dragon seemed almost bored as he picked up a spectacle to peer across the track. They were just starting to load up the horses which were a much better sight then his lackey. All of them displayed a sense of strong beauty like moving art. "So how did your plan work exactly? I hope you didn't have to hurt any of those fine animals."

"Oh heavens no! I've bribed all the top racers so this will be cake. Number five is the best middle racer with one to fifteen odds and I put all our money into slips on him."

"Ah, I see!" A giant hand reached out taking at least a third of the pretzels in the bowl. "So everyone has agreed to let number five win?"

"Exactly, sir. You'll be leaving here a fresh millionaire."

"I knew I could count on your squid," the dragon gave him a pat on the back that almost sent him out of the box before standing to greet other suits starting to make their way in.

After a bit more time for friendly banter trumpets blared over speakers to signal the start of the first race. The whole track seemed to fade into a silent murmur in anticipation. From her starting box in number twelve Hazel felt her stomach clench. Her moment of truth had finally arrived.

A bell rang the signal for gates to fly open. The crowd erupted into a wave of cheers with all eyes watching horses lurch out of their pens in a frantic dash. Their stampede of thundering hooves kicked up a dust cloud in their wake. Over all the noise came an announcer.

"And coming out of the pen it looks like Beauty leading the pack followed by Pinecone. Sugarplum and Twizzler are neck and neck for third and...oh my, looks like number five, Cinna-bun, is sprinting out in an attempt for an early lead. That's some unusual enthusiasm for her."

Hazel was certainly not last as she bobbed with each gallop, but she was not getting anywhere. Turning the first corner she finally mustered the resolve to forget anxiety and pushed with all the force her muscular legs could hold. Everything else was drowned out to her; the crowds, the annoying speaker voice, and especially the angry shouts of jockeys as she sped past. All that mattered was getting to that checkered flag.

"And number five surprisingly getting the better of Pinecone and gaining rapidly on Beauty. Sugarplum takes third as they round to the final stretch. Looks like this could be close folks. I...wait, what's that? Number twelve is speeding on through into fourth place, now third. Who is that? What!? That can't be right!! Hazel now overtaking beauty for second!! I don't believe this..."

Much of the crowds cheers shifted towards confusion. That horses name range with familiarity but not in the way it was being used. Hazel did not care, the finish line was rapidly looming into view. Beauty apparently seemed to catch a second wind at seeing her start to pass. In the final yards they both put their all into it, easily leaving Cinna-bun to cough on dust. Only yards remained, hazel tensed her hind legs with one last jump for it.

"You'll regret this!!" the ridiculous looking jockey was barely heard by Hazel or John as they sailed across the white chalk line painted in the dirt.

The whole track went dead silent for several seconds. Then like a light switch every single person in the stand jumped to their feet in an uproar of noise. Very few of them were actual cheers for success. Most of what Hazel could make out were people angrily tearing up their betting slips while more shouted insults and accusations about their morality. If anything that just made Hazel hold her head even higher as she strutted down the track back to the stables. Her lungs were barely straining from the race and yet her heart felt ready to burst.

"I don't believe it," John said once they had made it back into her pen for a rest. A statement Hazel was also hearing shouted over the speakers repeatedly. "We...you did it girl!"

Hazel would have blushed if she were in her human form. They really had done it. All his sacrifice and faith in a no-nothing horse and she was able to pay him back in spades for his kindness. Things were finally going their way.

Unlike a slimy little man outside, whose attempt to escape the executive box had been thwarted by two tall goons in suits grabbing his arms. Big as they were, they were nothing compared to their boss.

The dragon was surprisingly calm after the results of the race were witnessed. His chubby lips chewed on the butt end of a lit cigar for several seconds before he drew in a deep breath. He then pulled out the cigar and exhaled a thick black smoke very slowly before finally speaking, although he did nothing but gaze out into the distance.

"I'm a bit unfamiliar with the horses, but I was pretty sure you said number five was the one fixed to win this race."

Squid squeaked as the hands holding him tightened. His arms were losing circulation. "He is! I mean he was! Sir...I can explain!"

"I'm listening intently, Squid."

"Well, uh,I..." Squid struggled for something, anything to say. He was not expecting an actual chance to explain. "This isn't my fault."

"I'll bet it's not." The dragon puffed his cigar one more time before putting it out on the armrest of his seat.

"No really, it's not! That's not Hazel!"

Squid yelped trying to wrestle the two men when the Dragon rose up onto his feet. Not that he had a prayer of getting an inch out of their grasp.

"And just what is THAT supposed to mean?"

"I've seen Hazel, I've sold her to some naive nitwit months ago. She's a dead horse. Bad Genes, you know!? She never gets anything but last place."

"Looked like a pretty damn good mare to me." A gorilla sized hand reached for Squid, making him flinch, but it continued past for a large helping of Doritos. "But I think I see where this is going."

"Y-you do?"

"Of course!" The outcry came with a splatter of partially chewed chips all over Squids face. "You took some shmuck I'd never know about and have them intentionally lower their odds to the gutter and cash in while humiliating me at the same time."

"What!?! Why would I be so stupid as to..."

"Tom! What were the odds on Hazel?"

"A hundred and six to one," replied a thin blond haired suit. He creped Squid out the most as he had never said a word since arriving, always standing with a computer tablet at the ready.

"Any outstanding bets on her?"

"No sir. Not a single bet on her at all."

"There," Squid squealed a little too joyously, as it directed all glares back on him. "I'm not out to screw with you, Anderson. She wasn't supposed to place!"

"Call me Dragon, Squid. Now tell me; this jockey riding Hazel, did you bribe him along with the others?"

"N-no sir! It would have been a waste of time giving money to someone who always loses anyway."

"Doesn't look like it to me."

"That's not Hazel!" Squids struggling picked up causing the men to tighten their grip so hard his shoulders popped. "Urk! He switched horses or something. It's not my fault."

"Yes it is, Squid." The dragon had finished his chips and paused to down three cups of diluted bear. "You underestimated a loose end and now it has come back to bite you. We sunk two hundred grand into Cinna-bun and she did not even place."

"Sir, please!!"

"If this had been a fluke on your part, I might have forgiven you. But such reckless plotting...I hate lazy people."

The dragon waved at the men, who proceeded to drag Squid out of the box. They did not get far before one had to taz the little man to keep his struggling from attracting attention.

"Should I have the jockey and Hazel taken care of too?" asked Tom when his monster of a boss stood up.

The dragon mulled it over while lighting up another cigar. "Nah! If they had nothing to do with this, there's no point killing them." After a long pause to puff some smoke the dragon added, "But I am still cross about this. Have the horses front legs broken."

"Yes sir!"

Hazel ran two more races that day, placing fifth and third place respectively. No point in drawing too much attention right away. Besides, she was so out of breath after that second run that third place was fairly surprising.

"We did it! We did it!" John sang as he pranced about Hazels pen glowing brighter than a Christmas tree. Not that she could blame him. Just placing in the top three once was enough to pay back his loan for Hazel with interest.

"I'll say you did!" They both turned to see one of the female jockeys eyeing John over the gate. A spunky brunette Hazel thinked was called Maxine. "Don't suppose you'd like to get a drink and talk about your amazing come back, John?"

John looked like he had been offered a mountain of gold. He gave Hazel a big hug around the neck, reciprocated with an affectionate nip, and quickly escorted his new 'friend' back to the lounge. Occasionally Hazel would get other jockeys stopping by to congratulate her, in spite of mocking them earlier, but otherwise spent the rest of her evening in quiet rest.

It was a bit of a mix blessing. Now that the fat check in Johns pocket made their debt a distant memory, all Hazel felt was tired. A relaxed mind tends to wander a lot more than a panicked one, and hers began to drift towards the future. Mostly of the fact she actually had one now. Racing would never be a problem again. Hazel finally had a body that could make winning a reality. And it was not like she even had to win every race. If these new shape shifting powers were permanent, along with the regular training, they were pretty much set until retirement.

So Hazel began to wonder what she should do now. There was still the matter of having a humanized horse form to shift to at will, not forgetting it's super-sized muscle goddess version. Neither of them were being utilized after spending weeks practicing to stay balanced on two legs. Thank goodness there was still a tail for counterweight. 

She was going to have to show John her true, new, self eventually. He deserved to know that much.

And then what?

Hazel nickered amusement while envisioning an attempt to walk through a mall like it was normal. Hooves clopped on the tiled floor while each step caused her rear and chest to jiggle in that way she knew turned heads. Too bad it was not for reasons humans usually had for eying 'gifted' women. Well, maybe not most of them, but if comic books were any indication to mob mentality she would end up either attacked by confused police or captured for scientific study.

This might take some careful and thorough thinking...

Eventually the sun finally set and things closed down for the next several days. It was typically so horses could rest from their races, but ten PM rolled around and Hazel was sitting the lounge enjoying her own little victory feast. She was running a risk starting her human moonlighting early, but it was worth seeing herself and John being talked about on the news. Her win must have caused a few lost appetites too. The fridge was a dumping ground for partially eaten foods tonight. Just as well, the mares stomach was clenching fiercer than ever.

"...leaving more than half the spectators tearing up their tickets in frustration. Just goes to show you can't always count out the underdog."

"But Hazel is a horse, Tom."

"Thank you, Diane. I can see that...and now turning to a sadder note; police have still not caught the gunman responsible for robbing a department store on Saturday just before closing. While the clerk running the store has survived her bullet wound, she is still in intensive care. Local sheriffs are asking for any leads on this man, shown here in the surveillance footage, but should be avoided as he is still armed and dangerous..."

Hazels proud grin sank as she chewed on a mouthful of sub sandwich. This was the part she always hated about television; the bad news. Every day someone, somewhere, was doing something bad to people just as kind and innocent as John.

Yesterday she had caught the end report of a kid that lost his arm getting in the way of a car theft.

Day before that, the old man who had been even less lucky in a gang drive-by.

And before that Hazel tried not to think about too hard. For such acts to be done on poor people trying to make a living made her sick, even a little angry. They had police for a reason. A lot of them, from what Hazel's seen from the break in here. The fact they barely seemed to be doing anything meant they were either overwhelmed or under somebody's thumb.

Shaking her head with a laugh, Hazel took another bite out of her sandwich. It might be high time to find something besides comic books and cartoons for entertainment if she was thinking such silly notions. Regardless, it was a shame to hear about these crimes night after night. If only there was a way to help them now that John was safe.

“And now a brand new episode of Lightning Bunny.”

The sandwich fell to the floor bursting into its many components with a loud splat. Hazel's cloven fingers remained in mid air curled around where it used to be. It did not matter as her eyes, wide as dinner plates, were transfixed on the TV. Images of the anthropomorphic rabbit in spandex fighting thugs to her rocking theme song burned right past retinas into that muse part of the mares brain.

“THAT'S IT!!” Hazel jumped up from the table with such enthusiasm that her body surged several feet in size and muscle before she could catch herself. Blushing, she shrunk back down only to realize her growth had flipped the table she had been using. Pretty much half the lounge now lay pasted with reheated food and soft drinks.

She quickly got to work straightening the lounge while hoping no one had been around to hear the ruckus. Still, her thoughts could not escape the obvious hint fate had been giving her this whole time. The more carefully she thought about it, the more it made sense. Being blessed with the ability to become human-like. A gift of raw muscle and size at her beck and call. There was only one logical reason for her to have such powers.

Hazel would become a superhero.

After all, why not? She was a horse. Secret identities do not get much harder to trace. Lives could be saved and there would be no risk whatsoever to John. It made perfect sense...to Hazel.

Now that begged the question of costume. She looked back to the TV in between scrubbing up spilled pasta. Lightning Bunny usually wore boots that reached all the way to her thighs, a full body leotard with an engraved LB on her modest chest, and a cape. There was also a mask across her eyes, but Hazel scoffed at the idea. A talking rabbit hiding their face from humans was just silly.

Lost and found was the first place to check. Not that Hazel expected leotards but something bright or colorful. Given Hazels drab brown fur almost anything would work. Unfortunately, it was not to be found at reception. Very little got lost at the track aside from the occasional jacket or sweater. Both of which irritated her fur like crazy.

Hazel tapped her head in frantic thinking. Most of the jockeys wore spandex, but those were all just as drab and earth toned as her body fur.

All except for one annoying French man...

A grin spread up Hazels snout all the way to her ears. In a dash she was back in the lounge heading down into the locker rooms. A janitor must have done his job for once. The raunchy smell of excrement was bearable enough that she did not have to cover her nostrils scanning locker to locker. It was rather easy to spot the desired one, being that it was covered in decorative wreaths of lilac and reeking even stronger of cheap perfume. There was no lock, so she opened it on up to see the desired prize within; a bright green spandex shirt, pants, a matching tuxedo coat, and a top hat.

Hazel yanked the costume from its hanger to quickly escape for sweeter smelling air before that potato salad decided to come back up. Once seated at a table, she began checking the material over. A few snips and tucks and it might be up to the challenge of being a disguise for aspiring vigilantes. Spandex stretched surprisingly far, yet did not tug or pull at her fur like all those cotton shirts. Long as she held back the buffness, threats of ripping would be minimal. Typical thugs hardly needed someone to grow to building sizes to fight.

Having hooves made putting on pants the hardest part. Hazel thought for sure it would rip just trying to get the first leg through. Fortunately, a little careful tugging and slow sliding got the hem around her ankle. She repeated the process with her other hoof before deciding it was safe enough to try pulling the pants up. Of course these pants were tailored for a jockey. They quickly upgraded to summer shorts stopping just shy of her knees. At least it got around her waist, though had to be left below the top of her butt because of the tail.

The shirt ended up being the real challenge. Mostly because Hazels whopper of a nose left her face elongated not to squeeze her head through the neck hole. She ultimately had to stick her schnoz through first before it could stretch around properly. Once she got it on it was, again, a bit too small. The engraved 'MH' had been stretched wide across her breasts while the hem only went down half an inch past them, leaving her navel exposed. The sleeves did a poor job covering a third of each bicep.

None of which mattered to Hazel. She thought it looked dynamic as she slipped on the coat, which was big enough to actually fit snugly. Turning to the mirror, the image reflected back looked absolutely perfect. A talking horse standing on two legs was one thing. Seeing that dressed in a ridiculous outfit of bright green felt like something else entirely. It complemented her natural brown color, and created a great first impression. Hazel lick her lips in anticipation at the thought. Any criminal who saw this mare would know right away they were in for some beat down.

It was not long before Hazel began to strike poses and flex for the mirror. The spandex creaked as it strained to stay wrapped around her body. Almost nothing was left to the imagination with everything stretched to its limit, but that did not register in the excitment.

“Have no fear! Hazel is here to save...uh...hmm!” Hazel suddenly stopped to ponder in concern. She needed a super hero sounding name because, for one, 'Hazel' was not very intimidating and, two, it would be a clear clue who she was really. That might scare John for a loop to hear her name over the evening news involving bank robbers, assuming it did not bring retribution back to his doorstep. Eyes drifted down to the large letters plastered across her bosom. Memory instincts began to recall any and all adjectives she had ever seen in those comic books. “M...H...Mighty Hero? Master? Mister Horse? No...no...Mega? Mega!”

Hazel put both hands on her hips in her favorite hero pose. Her reflection shot back the best cocky smile its snout could muster.

“Have no fear! Mega Horse is here! YEAH!”

She gave a powerful flex with her yell, letting a rush of power fill into and swell her muscles. Bones groaned a split second before growing to accommodate the piling mass. And that was where Hazel done goofed.

A tear range out with a force that startled the other horses in their stables. While back in the lounge room, Hazel stood a ten foot tall hulk almost entirely naked again. Her eyes blinking rapidly at the mass of confetti flitting across the tables, taking several seconds to realize her mistaken growth explosion. Looks like she needed some more practice in emotional control.

Plus now the Majestic Horserider was going to need to be paid back for his stolen costume. The coat had been completely disintegrated by her instantaneous growth. The shirt somehow remained to grapple with her beach ball bust but the shoulders split in half along the top seam exposing lots of cleavage. Pant legs faired much worse; split into several ribbons all along her tree truck thighs. Only the hips remained to form a makeshift thong to cover her couch of a butt.

So much for putting things back without anyone being the wiser. Quiet a miracle anything remained at all.

Hazel gathered up the scraps before bolting back to her pen. There was this one jockey she knew of that loved to brag about her sewing skills. Ignoring the snort at her intrusion from the black mare inside, Hazel quietly snuck in to borrow a kit after searching around for an instruction book.

It was a lost cause. Hazel was not a horse bred for delicate craftsmanship. Granted her cloven fingertips made for good protection, but they were also thick and clumsy. That and the coat was a pile of scraps.

After a few unsuccessful hours, efforts shifted gears from mending to modifying what was left. No point letting it become a total waste. Ribbons were snipped off the pants to go for a full thong, while shirt lost its shoulders entirely for a more tank top appearance. There seemed to be a call for some slack so these remains were reworked into them for a bit more elastic. She even got the scraps of the coat into little bands to go around her ankles and wrists. Specifically the parts bearing the same MH initials as the crest around her breasts.

Two days of trial, error, and lots of torn fabric later Hazel finally had her superhero costume.

Or, rather, what was left of it...

Okay, it was not exactly something as glamorous as Lightning Bunny's, but at least it stretched enough to accommodate her largest size. And the stitching was not noticeable unless someone stared really close. Now she could fight crime without showing off her lady bits to every news station and pervert that was sure to record her heroism.

"Mega Horse stops super mutant blob!" she envisions a news anchor saying to the world. A thought that made her giggle.

Hazel suddenly yawned. The outfit had been such a focus she had forgotten to sleep. She glanced out the window to see the first bits of sunlight piercing into black night from the horizon. Perhaps just an hour or two of crime then rest, she reasoned while putting on the tube top and thong with giddiness. They did host races tomorrow so no point going all out the first time. She would just grow to about one-fourth her giant size, head outside, and...

And...

Uh...

Hazel scratched her head. Gaze turned towards the mirror as if the green latex mare staring back would somehow give an answer. Apparently this plan liked to throw a lot of curve balls to newbie's.

How the heck was she supposed to fight crime?

Simply running down the street looking for trouble would not work. Hazel was already too aware the reactions people would have to seeing a giant horse woman, much less one stomping hoof prints into the pavement. Plus the strength of her body might end up causing collateral damage. It was hard enough just moving around the stables without wrecking a wall. Wandering around as a normal horse would not work, except attracting animal control in record time.

"Neigh! Why couldn't I have a human form!?" Hazel ruffled her ample blond hair in frustration. When she looked back at the mirror it was hard not to giggle at the comical way it draped over her face with a snout splitting it down the middle. She strode over to John's desk and fetched out a super large rubber band to pull it all back into a lifted pony tail. That certainly gave her reflection a more tidy, youthful appearance. It was soon striking poses out of a mix of boredom and admiration for the muscled contours. "Ah well, at least I look great!"

A loud clang made Hazel's ears perk. She almost shrugged it off as a passing drunk when it happened again. Head craned off to the right as ears swiveled to catch the noises. There was a few seconds of silence before a loud thud came, followed but lots of strained grunts. Voices!? Someone was not supposed to feed the horses today.

Hazel rushed to shut off all the stable lights before diving into her pen. There were definitely voices inside the track now. Four from what she could tell, and getting closer. What a worse time for someone to decide to be profession about their job. She worked in a frantic pace trying to get the sewing kit and fabric pieces hidden under her bed. Then there still the books and junk food she left on Johns table.

The voices were getting close enough to distinctly make out. There was no way Hazel could get rid of everything in time. She would just have to shift to horse mode and hope for the best.

"Why did you have to throw me over the fence?"

"Because you're heavy. Now shut up!"

"Both of you shut up! Let's just kill this horse and go eat."

Hazel stopped halfway through pulling off her top. Ears now craned intently at the open window.

"We're not killing Hazel, moron. The dragon just wants to send a message."

"Right, whatever. I'm not the one stupid enough to drag a sledgehammer all the way here."

"Hey, it'll get the job done. In fact, why don't you just stay out here and keep watch."

"Works for me. We've already been paid anyway."

	Hazels heart leapt into her thick neck. Criminals were coming, and for her no less. Why? What had she done to earn enemies?!

The sliding door rattled from trying to be opened, but it's lock held.

"Hang on, I got this."

There came a loud thud of something metallic striking at the seam between door and frame. A strange metal hook had pressed its way through and was now being used in an attempt to pry it open.

Hazel dropped the top back over her abs while pacing around the pen in a panic. they would be here any second. What was she going to do? Maybe she could call for help. Yeah! The lounge had a phone. Maybe she could sneak out the back door and call the police to...

Terror filled eyes whipped to the mirror to take in the image of an anthropomorphic horse wearing green spandex. Hazel gave out a relieved laugh, face palming at her own silliness.

It went unheard over the loud snap of the doors lock finally giving. The stable opened up with the grinding of metal on rails. Three beams of light pierced through the darkness as a group of thugs strode in with no attempt at subterfuge. Like Hazel, they were not expecting witnesses at such an early hour.

"So where is she?" Hazel heard on ask. The lights were getting steadily closer.

"Just keep searching. There's only, like, fourteen horses here."

It was hard for Hazel to keep from giggling. This was far from what she had in mind, but an opportunity to test super powers is not worth squandering. And they don't get as perfect as literally walking up to you.

One of the light beams finally shinned in on the gate to her pen.

	"Hey, found it guys!"

Hazel tensed her grip, forcing muscles to stay relaxed so there was no premature growth. This had to be timed perfectly for maximum effect. She bit her lower lip watching the other two lights race on over. They all converged on the plaque that identified the deluxe pen as hers, then swept on in to observe the contents. All Hazel could hear clearly for several seconds was her heartbeat.

"Well," said one of the thugs. "Where the hell is she?"

"How the hell should I know? It says her name right here."

"Hey looks like someone's been working in here," said the third thug. "There's food and gear all over the place. I bet her owner is practicing out on the track right now."

"Great! We can break his legs too for the inconvenience. I'm sure the dragon will understand."

Hazel could not hold in a growl that time. That was an entrance cue if she ever heard one. Releasing her hold on a stables support beam, gravity quickly took over. As she fell she let the power wash over from the hooves up like diving into a pool. Calves bulked into curvy supple thighs supporting massively widening hips below washboard hard abs half concealed under beach ball expanding breasts sticking out in front of biceps male body builders would feel meek against. In the two seconds it took to fall, Hazel gained her desired effect. She came to a crash landing on bent knees with one hand on the ground. The impact of her increased weight sent a reverberation that shock the stables foundation while kicking up a dust cloud of hay.

All three flashlights whirled to shine on her face. That must have looked so cool to see a mare standing up to a full ten foot height and placing hands on her hips. If only she had a video camera to capture the view.

The thugs had ski masks hiding their faces, but she could easily smell their immediate fear. One was carrying a large sledgehammer in his spar hand, while another had the crowbar used to break the door.

"You won't be hurting Hazel, John, or anyone for that matter." Hazel snorted before flexing to make her muscles puff up. "Not while I'm breathing!"

The thugs took turns staring up at Hazel and each other.

"Who the...WHAT the hell are YOU!?" the one carrying the crowbar choked out.

"No one special really," she gave a cocky grin and wink. Hazel made one step toward them, making sure to put a lot of force into it so it caused another small tremor. She was starting to see a perk in her large size. These guys looked ready to wet themselves as they all scrambled against the fence of her pen. "Just call me the Mega Horse."

They stared at Hazel.

Hazel stared back.

They gave each other unsure side glances.

"Soooo...."

"SO you punks want to come to jail quietly or am I going to have to get rough!!" Hazel tried to hide her blush by trying to crack her knuckles. Instead it just came off as making awkward hand rubbing. Lightning Bunny made looking cool so much easier.

"Oh, the furry freak thinks she's tough, huh?!" the thug with the crowbar apparently got some of his nerve back at seeing Hazel's confidence wane. Before she could react, he dropped his flashlight to swing the metal tool with both hands. It impacted right against her stomach with a loud 'thwump,' making the mare gasp.

It certainly knocked the wind out of her, but Hazel simply drew another breath and straightened up. She certainly felt the attack, and there would be a red spot for a while, but he might as well have swung nerf foam. The thug blinked at her almost casual raised eyebrow before looking at his crowbar. The tool was now bent in a very sloppy L shape, rendering it fairly useless.

"Looks like she is! Hey Phil, take care of her for me!" he said while whipping around into a dash for the exit.

He got two steps before Hazels hoof collided with his retreating backside. The extra push sent him outside at a much higher velocity than desired. Good thing Hazel had some keen eyes. He had some perfectly good trash cans to crash into for an abrupt stop. After which the thug decided to just take a nap waiting for feeling to return in his arms.

“You're about to be Mega DEAD for that!”

Phil, or Hazel assumed that was the man's name, capitalized on the distraction to swing with his sledgehammer. It impacted right into her beach ball of a left breast giving off a flump sound as though striking a pillow. The soft flesh gave deep around its head but only visibly caused Hazel the inconvenience of staggering a step. Something she quickly recovered from with an angry snort. That had stung something fierce and she was not about to let it show.

Phil pulled back for another strike, only to gawk as the sledgehammers head formed several cracks. A second later it shattered into a small pile of steel shards on the floor. He stared at the now ordinarily shaft of wood and dropped it to raise hands high in the air.

“But of course we're all willing to negotiate, right?”

Hazel used one hand to heft Phil up by the scoff of his shirt. His feet dangled a good five feet in the air upon being brought nose to snout with the mare. Her lips twitched, then turned into a smile that made his blood freeze.

“Right...”

The fourth man, who had been pondering robbing jockey lockers as long as he was playing look out, had been making his way towards the stable at the first sign of raised voices. He had gotten about halfway there when the sight of one of his colleagues sailing out for a crash landing amidst some garbage cans caused him to skid to a halt. Before there was time to comprehend that another flew out screaming like a little girl. Except this one had his underwear pulled over his head in a very painful looking wedgie as he collided with the other man into a stunned heap.

Their look out blinked before pressing himself against the stable wall. Inching along carefully to the door, he risked a peek inside to see just what was going on. Not that he believed it when he saw the last man being loomed over by a giant monster. Especially when the flash light swept over her, briefly illuminating a horse-like face covered in brown fur and blond hair. The sound of hooves clopping echoed into the darkness as she lumbered forward.

"Oh nuts to this!" Hazels last opponent screamed.

There was just enough time to catch a glint of something metallic before a gunshot caused several horses to shriek in terror. Hazel grunted feeling the impact hit hard over her heart. Her eyes bulged out as she gulped for breath. That was it. She had gotten so cocky as to walk right into being mortally wounded. On her debut assignment no less!

Hazel finally managed to catch a breath, then cocked an ear. Wait, bullet wounds were supposed to kill as far as she knew. She glanced down and in the illumination of the flashlight saw why her attacker looked as shocked as her. The bullet struck horse flesh with perfect accuracy, but with no more success than the blunt weapons that had tried before. A small metal welt gleamed out of the fur of her left breast nearly flattened from impact. Hazel curiously pinched it between thumb and pointer finger to yank it off as easily as removing a sticker. Only a small reddening of skin, mostly hidden by fur, remained to give any sign of an attack at all.

This did not deter the man from trying again. Hazel instinctively raised her arms to block her face as shot after shot rang through the dusk morning. A good thing as she felt a few bullets strike open palm and forearms. Thankfully it was not long before the pelting stopped and sounds changed to a hollow clicking. She tentatively lowered her arms to peek at the man, resuming her approach upon seeing his gun had its chamber pulled back in the empty position. Her entire front was decorated in flattened bullets, but one sweep of the hand sent them all to the floor with the other failed weapons collecting there.

The man backpedaled with a startled yelp. He flung the empty pistol at Hazel, which she caught without flinching. In one flex it crumpled into a mesh ball that she let drop.

"What made you think that would work?"

"Well it's not like I have a plan B."

Hazel did not hesitate this time. With a spring in her hooves, she socked the man right in his gut with all she had. Something she immediately regretted at the sounds of crunching bones. That was definitely a few cracked ribs. Still, the man coughed, staggered, and finally collapsed into a fetal position wailing in agony. It was better than giving them another chance to kill her.

She tried her best to be gentle with the injured men afterwards. Grabbing some rope from the stable supplies, she bound them all together into a bundle. That was when a thought occurred to Hazel that made her cautiously look around the rest of the track. There was no doubt she had heard four voices, but apparently their companion high tailed it out of here long before she had noticed.

Hazel shrugged before kneeling down to gently bend one of the men's head so he was staring up at her eyes. For some reason these guys kept wandering their gazes at her chest smashing against her knees.

"Now you listen to me, punks. You ever try to mess with Hazel or ANY horse or person around here again I won't let you off so easily. This area is under Mega Horse protection. Got it!"

The men grumbled, but in a way that acknowledged her terms. Happy with that, she hefted the whole trio up over one shoulder. Their groans of defeated anger quickly turned into cries of horror when she bounded clear over the entrance gate into a cracking impact on the road opposite. A morning sun was just poking out into the open sky, but the mare was surprised to find a lot of denizens already nearby. Most likely they had been attracted by all that gunfire. Oh well, a few witnesses can really help her image if this played in her favor. Hazel ignored her prisoners panicked pleas as she took off carrying them like a grocery bag.

Events that another man was completely unaware of a few blocks away. The aspiring twenty five year old brunette was more occupied with the cell phone pressed against his left ear while navigating his usual route to work.

"Relax, Diane. The interview is all taken care of for tomorrow." He rolled his eyes since it would not be seen. "Look the guy is visiting from China, I'm sure he won't be offended by your choices in catering." There was a pause in his step. "Okay why exactly is yellow such a problem? Really? How the hell is THAT going to be interpreted as racially insensitive!?"

A sudden tapping on the man's shoulder nearly scared him silly. He lowered his phone to turn to the interrupting individual.

And then he looked up past the wall of abs in front of him, over the mountainous breasts, at the kindly blond haired muzzle grinning down at him.

"I'm sorry sir. Could you tell me where the police station is? I think I got myself a little lost."

"Oh, um, right." He pointed back in the direction he had been walking. "Just head that way until you hit Churchill Avenue, then take a right. Keep going 'til you see it on the right. Can't miss it."

"Thank you very much!" the giant mare beamed and took off down the street with her cargo of tied people.

"Tourists..." the man scoffed, resuming his own walk while bringing the cell phone back to his ear. "Sorry about that. A talking horse needed directions. Anyway, if yellow is such a problem I'll just come in early to rearrange some things. I got a nice assortment of red..."

The man stopped in mid-stride to whirl back around. His eyes widening to encompass most of his face. The figure had already gone a considerable distance, but passing under a streetlamp gave him ample opportunity to make out her muscle rich backside in a green thong. And the fact it was covered in brown fur with a thick blond horse tail waving behind it. Then she reached Churchill Ave and turned so he could make out her thick equine muzzle in profile.

"I'll call you back!!"

Not many others witnessed the lumbering mare trotting down Churchill Avenue that morning. Most of the city was asleep at this early hour. Yet, somehow, Hazel managed to veer a sharp turn at the intersection right into the path of the only two oncoming cars in that street. Thankfully, Hazel managed to leap aside just barely scrapping the paint of an SUV with one of her hooves. It would not make a good impression having tomorrows papers talk about her ability to take vehicles head on, giving innocent drivers concussions.

At least there were no more pedestrians the rest of her short jog to the police station. Indeed it was impossible to miss; towering over its adjacent buildings with a well lit 'police' sign over a small stairway. As luck would have it, a pair of officers were just exiting as she approached. That saved her time from downshifting to go inside and get someone.

“Hey guys!” she sang happily to get their attention. They did not finish turning around before she unloaded her cargo at the base of the steps. “Hope you're not off duty. Got a present all wrapped up for you.”

The guards were, understandably, dumbstruck by her crashing entrance onto the path before them. They spent almost a minute exchanging looks between Hazel, the tied up crooks, and each other before declaring in unison, “What the hell are you!?”

Hazel took a step forward, only to backpedal when the officers reached for their guns. She quickly raised both hands while shooting off a recounting of what transpired at the race track. Explaining how she had happened to be passing by in time to overhear these thugs plans to mutilate an innocent horse. And her desire to keep the peace made her perform a public service to protect all the racers from the Dragon. Though she might have fibbed a bit when it came to the part where they wrestled around in the mud with attack dogs.

“Isn't that right?” she ended, bending down to give the half conscious prisoners a smirking glare. While this did give them a view of her canyon cleavage, they were more pale faced about the rippling pecks and biceps behind it.

“Yes yes!!” one of them squeaked. “Get us away from her and we'll confess to everything!”

“See?” Hazel stood up striking a pose. “Nothing left to do but lock'em up, right?”

This should have been the part like in Lightning Bunnies cartoons. Hazel beamed in anticipation for the stunned praise these law enforcers were supposed to give her for a job well done. Instead their expressions turned oddly serious, their brows furrowing in anger. They exchanged a look , one of them nodding as if in answer to some unspoken question.

“So you mean to say you're just waltzing in to declare war on the Dragon?” one of them said.

“Y-yeah,” Hazel replied. This was a bit confusing and unnerving. Their hands had yet to move from their holsters. “Isn't that what you guys are already doing? I'm here to help!”

She barely finished that sentence when both guards drew their guns on her. Hands immediately returned to the air in the international sign of surrender.

“Whoah! Whoah! Hey, I'm the good girl here!”

“And that's the problem,” the other guard said. They both cracked wicked grins that made Hazels heart sink.

“Yeah. Nothing personal, miss monster horse. The dragon just happens to pay us a lot more than a state pension. He won't like it if we suddenly decide to bust his goons because you say so.”

“Though I bet we'll get a nice bonus for turning her fuzzy ass over to some scientists.”

"Or a freak show."

Hazel winched at the sound of cocking guns. Now what was she going to do? There was little doubt about her imperviousness at this point, giving everything else that she had gone through, but fighting lawmen was not part of the plan at all. She might have to just bolt for it, even if it meant all that hard work amounted to the trio getting off with a fine. Or worse, SHE might end up becoming the public criminal.

A loud snap, like a loaded spring, broke her out of such panicked thoughts. One of the guards suddenly dropped their gun, crying out as limbs flailed in a complete spastic breakdown. Hazel and the guys comrade watched this continue for a few seconds before the man finally collapsed face first onto the steps. This gave them a chance to see two bolts had struck into his right shoulder, connected to wires that extended back towards the station doors.

“What the fu-” the other officer followed the wires only to get met with a face full of knuckles. The blow knocked him off balance, tripping on the first step to take a tumble that ended at Hazel hooves. His body twitched in gasping breaths, but now one of his legs and arms were bent in a funny way.

“Sorry about that, ma'am.” Hazel's head whipped back up the stairs to see a third officer had joined the party. Unlike the others, he appeared surprisingly young. Could not have been much older than John, with his scruffy hair and thin build. His eyes, on the other hand, told a whole different story. They had dedication and strength in them. The exact kind of eyes Hazel admired in comic books.

“Who are you?” she had intended to say 'thank you' but the words came out before she could think.

The man laughed, most likely from her blush through the brown fur. He reached into his coat, making Hazel tense again before realizing it was simply to show off a wallet badge. “I'm lieutenant Jackson Stockwell, at your service Mega Horse. Those two were some of my subordinates, but I opened the door just in time to hear them confess to taking bribes. I assure you they'll have a lot of things to worry about as they rot in a cell tonight.”

“Ah...uh...t-thank you, Mr. Stockwell.” Hazel shifted her weight. It was hard to put a cloven finger on why, but the confidence he radiated while cuffing the other officers totally threw off her hero rhythm.

“These guys with you?” Stockwell asked upon noticing the bundle of thugs.

“Oh! Yeah, that's right!” Hazel gave him another recount of her endeavors against crime. This time being short and less embellished.

When she was finished it was very reassuring to see Stockwell smile. Although those pearly whites did cause a fluttering in the horses stomachs.

“Well it's nice to meet a person, er, equine willing to stand up to the dragon. He's got so much of the city under his thumb the rest is too scared to want to get involved.” He then sighed a bit more glumly. “I'm not surprised some of the force is in his pocket. Doubt I'll be able to get these bozos on much, unless you want to testify for it?”

Hazel scratched the back of her head. “Ah heh! I don't think that'd be a very safe thing for me to do right now.”

“Didn't think so.” Stockwell seemed bemused as he piled everyone up at the base of the stairs. He took a moment to radio for back up to help bring them in, then turned back to Hazel. “So I take it your services are about to become a regular thing around here?”

“Oh, you better believe it!” Hazel flexed her arms, trying to show off a bit of muscle on impulse. She had sort of mixed feelings when Stockwell showed no apparent interest to her imposing display or humanly figure. She quickly recovered trying to keep her voice sounding deep and confident. “This is one super hero that'll make this Dragon afraid to sneeze on illegal activity.”

“Right. So you have any method of knowing when said illegal activity is taking place? Or were you just planning to go running down streets looking for trouble?”

Hazels panicked silence was not reassuring for either of them.

“You really were a normal horse at some point, weren't you?” Stockwell said with a chuckle that made Hazels whole muzzle turn red. Before she could rebuttal, though, he shoved the radio in his hand against her abs. He began to point out the dials, showing how they worked, while continuing, “You might as well take this. Channel eight is for police dispatch, channel thirteen is for crime reports, and I'll be checking channel seven every day at noon if you ever need to talk to me directly. Otherwise I don't suggest you talk into it unless a dire emergency arises. Got it?”

“O-okay,” Hazel said as she took the offered device. Not having any pockets, she settled for tucking it into the breast folds of her stretched top while trying to remember all the channels that had been listed. “T-thank you, Jack.”

“”I'll probably be thanking you later. This city needs all the help it can get.”

Hazel wanted to ask a bit more about this Dragon that kept getting mentioned, but that was when the stations doors opened for the half dozen armed officers that came charging out. They took one look at her and almost staggered back into a dog pile. Most of which scrambled for the batons and guns at their sides.

“Relax guys! I have everything under control!” Stockwell walked up the steps between the group and Hazel with arms raised. He looked over his shoulder to signal this might be her cue to skedaddle, but the ample amount of space Mega Horse had been occupying was already vacant.

Hazel, herself, had paused a block away behind a garbage bin to catch her breath. Super pumped or not, her body still seemed to have limits. Running around a city and being sleep depraved were not two of her favorites. Still, tonight had been one rollercoaster of an introduction. She was just glad to have met someone with similar ideals. There was no way one horse could fight for an entire city on her own. Even if said horse could grow to a size matching some of its buildings. A few more successful crime busting jobs and maybe more could be inspired in the right direction.

“That was totally fantastic!!”

Hazel screamed as she leapt onto the garbage bin in a fright. It was immediately crushed under her weight, which did nothing to detour the young man waving a cell phone at her face. Or at least Hazel hoped it was directed at her face. What was with everyone's fascination over her udders?

“Larry Singed, Channel 5 news!” the man introduced himself while stepping back to let Hazel stand up. She recognized that voice as the man she had asked directions from not too long ago. “Hope you don't mind I couldn't help following you. Got some great footage of that little exchange at the steps of our cities finest. Shame this thing has a weak mic, but regardless, any words you'd like to say to our viewers for the morning news!?”

Hazel stared blankly at the man. After a few seconds her mind snapped out of it and a grin stretched her muzzle so tight it exposed all her teeth. Putting one hand on her hip, she thrusted her chest proudly while pointing at the little lens on Larry's phone. Her tail thrashing wildly high like a blonde flag as she tried to speak in a booming voice.

“I certainly do! Better watch your step criminals, thugs, and especially Mr. Dragon. My name is Mega Horse and this city is now under official super equine protection. If I find out any of you are up to no good, I'll be on you like a spider on flies. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure these poor citizens look forward to a better tomorrow.”

“And there you have it,” Tom the anchorman said after Hazel's speech had been rebroadcast for the third time that day. “Our cities new mysterious monster horse declares war on organize crime, and criminals in general. Whether or not she'll do any good with talents that big, time will have to tell. And now for your weekly weather report...”

Hazel squealed in her chair after watching the full report that night. News traveled like wildfire across the city. Papers reprinted extra copies pinning for interviews with this strange new creature from out of nowhere. Even the New York Times made mention of Hazel's shocking appearance. It was not even sunset before there was even mention of Hazels likeness popping up in memes across the internet. Granted those were more about the ample curves of her body than anything she had to say. Still, people were now paying attention to Mega Horse. Milking up this onslaught of attention, good or bad, was total heaven for Hazel in the comfort of her stall.

Elsewhere downtown, a TV showing the same broadcast had been turned off. Almost no fading sunlight shinned through the shades of these penthouse windows. The little that did only outlined the Dragons large figure, drawing emphasis to his heavy footsteps approaching a desk custom crafted for his frame. Not like the two standard chairs before it that Rob and Frank occupied. For them this place had just turned into a living hell.

“So it seems I found out what happened to that third vial of enhancer you promised me.” The Dragons face became briefly illuminated as he lit up a cigar. “And here I believed you when you said it was a simple matter of miscounting under stress.”

“It was his idea!” Rob squealed louder than he intended with a fat finger waved at Frank. “He wanted to give it to a random horse just for kicks!”

“Shut up fat ass!” Frank smacked the hand away. “I didn't think this stuff sounded legit enough to actually work.”

“And I don't pay either of you to think,” the dragon said, silencing them both. “Now I've already had to...'fire' poor Squid. I'd rather not lose more employees so soon. Just answer me this; which horse did you give this chemical to!?”

Rob and Frank opened their mouths to say something, only to instantly shut them.

“I think it was a scrawny brown one,” Rob mused.

“No, it had to have been that black one,” Frank replied.

“You sure? I could have sworn it was the white one with a brown mane.”

“Maybe it was that amber colored one with the black patches.”

“I thought it had white patches.”

“Or maybe...”

“Enough!” The dragon slammed a fist on his desk making both thugs jump. “Apparently I need to heavily reevaluate my hiring policy. TOM!”

The blond suit strode forward to produce two vials for Rob and Frank. The fact they generated a decent amount of green light told them exactly what they contained.

“Drink,” the dragon said bluntly.

Rob gulped. “But...sir...”

“TOM!”

The suit promptly produced two pistols from his coat, pointing one at each of their heads. Almost in unison the tops came off and the vials contents were swallowed in one gulp. The penthouse went completely silent for several painstaking minutes.

“Well?” The dragon finally demanded. “Does it work?”

“I..don't know...” Frank looked down at himself, hands roaming his chest. “Everything feels the same.”

“I feel a bit queasy sir,” Rob offered. “Does that count?”

“Get out of my office.” The Dragon opened a desk drawer. On instinct the two thugs raised their hands before spotting a brandy bottle and shot glass in their bosses hands. He paused upon noticing they remained glued in their seats wide eyed. “NOW!!”

They were all too happy to wrestle over each other for the exit. Once the doors slammed shut, the dragon popped open his bottle to his small glass with an amber fluid.

“So the refined formula only work on animals,” he muttered before kicking back his drink. “Looks like I owe those science boys an apology.”

“What should we do, sir?” Tom asked after holstering his guns. "The human trials all reported the effects wearing off in under an hour. even if it had worked on those two..."

“Start work on synthesizing more of that formula from the sample we have left.”

“But what about that horse?"

“It doesn't matter.” Pouring another glass, the dragon stood up to admire the sunset from behind his window. “Those race horses rotate almost every race. We'll never figure out which one those morons bestowed godhood. Better to start work on countering this new problem as soon as possible.”

“Very good sir. I'll start looking into the zoos for potential candidates.”

“You do that.” The dragon downed his shot glass, smacking his lips with a chuckle. “If I'm going to be a match for this Mega Horse I'll have to fight fire with fire.”

End.