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Clover Hill

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Author: White Lion

Hi, my name’s Curtis. At least it used to be my name. It all happened a month ago. It was a beautiful day, and as a keen photography student I wanted to get some pictures of the local countryside for my class that evening. Near where I used to live is a rolling green piece of high ground, called Clover Hill. On that day I set off to climb and photograph the beauty close up. The TV had forecast rain later that day, so I dressed for all eventualities; jeans, sneakers, t-shirt, sweatshirt etc, and camera around my neck.

I huffed my way up to Clover Hill. It took longer than I thought. My calves were screaming in pain from years of teenage lethargy, but finally at quarter past twelve, I reached the summit. Good thing too, because just as the TV had predicted, the heavens seemed to open up. The rain poured down heavily and I ducked into a rocky alcove for some shelter.

I marveled in wide eyed wonder... It was a beautiful vantage point up there! I could see the green, lush valley far below, covered in mist from the ongoing downpour. Puffed from my climb, I decided to sit down on a smooth, flat granite cropping just inside the mouth of the cave and take in the view while waiting for the rain to stop. The view looked so if the green meadows were made for running and rolling around in clover….

A clap of thunder brought me out of this reverie. I glanced down at my watch and was shocked to see that it was 3:20! Had I been looking at this picturesque scene for THAT long? The afternoon sun was nowhere to be seen behind the gray clouds, but I could tell the day was quickly draining away. The rain showed no sign of slacking, but I didn't worry about that... I sprang up from my seat and began making my way to the craggy opening...when suddenly an angry thunderclap reverberated through the cavern, pricking my eyes in white, hot light. Dazed, my foot slipped on a wet outcropping of stones. I felt my ankle wrench, sending shooting pains up my right side. Clawing desperately for a handhold, but finding none... my fingers skittered over the smooth stony surface of the cave wall until my head SMACKED against the very same rock seat I was using just a moment ago. I blinked once and found myself totally stretched out on the pebbled ground of the cave. I blinked again and the world swimmed out of focus...head throbbing...a warm trickle of blood on my shoulder, a dull ache in my right ankle. By the time my mind could comprehend what happened, my eyelids fluttered into unconsciousness...

When I awoke the sun was high overhead. Birds glided lazily across the blue sky. I sat up slowly, conscious of my throbbing head. My foot was no longer painful, but felt extremely heavy and awkward beneath me. The air around me buzzed with life. The whirr of the flies around my head, even the smell of the clover in the valley below, all assaulted my senses, reviving me as nothing else could. Despite my accident I felt alive and anxious to explore. I lifted my hand to my still painful head...and almost knocked myself out again.

Confused and a bit disoriented, I lowered my hand to eye level and discovered that my fingers had congealed into a single unit, shortened and become covered with a thick layer of rock-hard nail-like substance. What I saw now was an almost cloven hoof-like appendage where my hand had been. I was very concerned and decided I must get home quickly. I staggered awkwardly to the outside of the small rocky cave. Once I reached the outside, the beauty of the now rain-washed valley struck me with such force that I thought of nothing else than climbing down and entering the paradise below. It was hard to maneuver down the rocky slope. My legs seemed to be unsteady and felt as if I would fall, although my feet had never felt more sure beneath me. Only partway down the hill, I tripped and lost my balance. I landed with my strange new hands and discovered that I could make better headway walking on all fours. That was strange. My broken camera dangled between my forearms, which seemed to have grown and were filling my sleeves more fully than before. Finding my balance I hurried to the valley bottom, imagining the feel and taste of the clover.

I bounded down into the valley bottom, desperate to taste the wonderful clover. I was now only half-surprised to find walking on all fours easier. My hands, now hooves, felt really comfortable on the uneven ground. The same could not be said of my feet. My sneakers felt uncomfortably tight. My jeans and top felt tight too.

I lowered my head to munch on the cool, refreshing clover. I didn’t care about getting home now. I just wanted to eat the clover. I ate and ate, far more than I could normally cram into my stomach. The weather was quite pleasant now, and I craned my head up in the cool breeze.

I continued to eat and eat. My belt was incredibly tight by now, and my clothes began to fit more snugly around my torso and legs. Initially I worried about the growing pressure. What fate awaited me now?

I shut my eyes and moaned. My mind was full of new sensations flowing through me. I licked my lips in anticipation. The animal urge was growing in me, pulsing through my veins. Every mouthful, every heart beat, every breath brought more growth, more pressure, more muscle, more pleasure and now …. more hair! Downy white and brown hair erupted all over my expanding body, which was swelling like a balloon. It was pulling my hooded blue sweatshirt snugly under my arms and around my chest. The collar started to choke me a bit.

My massive growing thighs and buttocks were cramming my blue jeans like a second skin, whilst my sneakers began to groan as my feet fused into hooves. Before long the stitching and laces had burst allowing my feet to finish their transformation.

The pain increased as I ate and grew. I could feel my clothes pull even tighter about me. How much longer would they hold out? My astonishing muscle growth began to accelerate, causing the fabric of my clothes to creak and groan in agony. I instinctively put my hands up to my collar to pull it wider to allow my neck room to grow, but my hands were already hard and hoof-like. They could not grip at all now, and I settled back to all fours to await events as my body continued to swell. The sweatshirt stitching under my arms began to give way very slowly stitch by stitch. Pop, pop, pop, pop.

My metamorphosis was beautiful and slow. New muscles and cow-hair erupted all over my expanding frame. The mighty growth was going too fast for the exhausted stitching to keep up and cotton fabric itself splintered and exploded off my upper body in a shower of blue rags. This latest surge of growth carried on down my body to my thighs and buttocks. With a slow, delicious cracking sound – my huge bovine muscles began to prise apart the blue denim of my jeans, inch by inch running down each leg. With a sudden boom, the jeans flew to the ground in a crumpled heap of rags.

I swished my long rope-like tail in the breeze, and carried on with my meal of clover. Yum yum! Mooooo!