The Eyewitness

So, I gotta tell somebody about this. After all these years, I don’t know, I guess I just developed a conscience or something. Anyway, here goes. You know how in the papers, they’re talking again a about Jimmy Hoffa, how they think they might find his body on a horse farm in Michigan? Well they’re getting damn close. Still I can guarantee you they’ll never find his body. I know ‘cause I saw the whole damn thing, over 30 years ago.

Back then, I was a young henchman for the Detroit outfit. I was pretty low level, but hey I was loyal. Did what I was told. They need someone roughed up, fine. Kidnapped, you got it, whatever the boss wanted. But what happened that day, well I’ve never seen anything like it. That was the day everything changed.

The Boss arranged to have dinner with Hoffa at a restaurant near Milford. Supposedly, to make peace, to let welcome him back from his little stint in prison. But really, the boss wanted Hoffa out of the picture. With Hoffa back in charge of the Teamsters, our whole operation would be all fucked up. So, the boss had a plan. Our orders were to nab Hoffa and take him to a farm nearby. After the boss and Hoffa left the restaurant, they got in to the boss’s Lincoln. We tailed them in our own car. When they turned off the main highway on to a farm road we all pulled over, then we went in to action. Me and my buddy Sal, we jumped out of our car, yanked Hoffa outta the back seat of the boss’s car, and, shall we say, subdued him. Tied his feet, his hands, put a gag in his mouth, tossed him in the trunk. I gotta say, he wasn’t much trouble. He was kinda pudgy, not in good shape, and me and Sal, back in those days we were built like fireplugs, if you know what I mean. Then we all drove to this farm. Turns out the mob owned the place, so we had it all ourselves.

I figured that we’d be putting an end to Mr. Hoffa right then and there, out in the middle of nowhere, but man, I never guessed what would happen next. The boss told us to open the trunk. There was Jimmy, squirming around, face as red as a beet, sweating like a pig. Man, he was scared. Sal and I lifted him out, and carried him to the barn. We go in through the barn door, and there’s this guy, in a lab coat, with a bunch of weird looking like, you know, medical equipment and stuff, waiting for us! He told us to put Hoffa in one of the horse’s stalls, an empty one with just a bunch of hay and horseshit in it. Man it stunk in there. Anyway, we toss him on the ground. Then the boss tells us to tie his feet to two tethers anchored to the wall, then tie his hands to two more. When we were done, poor Hoffa was laying face down in the dirt, spread eagle. There was plenty of slack in the tethers, but with all four limbs tied, he wasn’t going anywhere. The boss pulled the gag from his mouth.

“What the hell you doin’ to me?” Hoffa shouted. “If you’re gonna kill me just do it already. Don’t treat me like a goddam animal!”

Then the boss, he gets this big grin, and says “but Jimmy, that’s the whole idea, to treat you like an animal. Before long you’ll be used to it.”

Hoffa got wide-eyed, stared at the boss. “What are you talking about?”

“We need to take you out of the picture, and keep you from talking, too. But hey, it’s the 70s. Thanks to modern science, something called, uh…Doc, what do you call it?”

“Genome mapping. You see I have developed…”

“Yeah, yeah, jeenomes.” The boss interrupted. “Anyway we don’t need to kill you. Now, thanks to Doc Turner here, we don’t need to make people disappear. All we need to do is make Humans disappear.” He said, in a slippery, confident tone. “ It’s a brave new world Mr. Hoffa.” With that, the boss gestured to the Doctor.

The doc moved in with one of those I.V. things, like you see in hospitals, with this brown liquid in it. He set it up next to Hoffa and prepared the biggest needle I’ve ever seen. Then boss ordered us to cut off Hoffa’s clothes. We took out our knives and made short work of it, and there was Hoffa lying naked on the ground, shackled. Then the Doc takes this needle, and shoved into Hoffa’s butt. Hoffa yelped like a stuck pig. This brown liquid starts running down the I.V. and into Hoffa. He was twitching and squirming, but he was helpless. I couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. I looked at Sal, and he was smiling, like he knew what this was all about.

OK, so here’s where it gets really weird. I know that you’re not gonna believe this, but starting with Hoffa’s rump, right where the needle was, he starts to grow. I mean, his butt started to balloon up, and this black hair started growing all over his backside! In a couple of minutes his whole hind end was huge, and becoming all muscular, covered with gleaming black hair. This little bulge started pushing out, and Hoffa cried out. The bulge kept coming, and all of a sudden, he had this tail! Seriously, I’m telling you this big hairy tail sprouted from him. It flipped back and forth, and I realized it looked just like a horse’s tail.

I remember saying, “holy shit!” while Sal and the boss looked at each other and nodded, like they were enjoying this whole thing. Hoffa was making these weird high-pitched moans, and he was having trouble trying to talk.

“What’s happening to me?” he finally managed to say.

“Welcome to your new home, Jimmy. In a few minutes, it’ll all be over. So far you’ve got a horse’s ass, which I think is appropriate in your case, but the rest will follow. You, Mr. Hoffa, are being turned into a prize stallion.” My boss said, lowering himself down and looking right into Hoffa’s eyes.

Hoffa swished his tail, feeling it behind him brushing against his leg. His eyes widened in terror.

“Do us a little favor, Jimmy,” the boss continued, “While you can still talk, tell us how it feels. What does it feel like to be turning into an animal?”

“Oh shit, my legs!” Hoffa cried.

I heard a cracking noise. Hoffa’s hips were shifting, pulsating, and they repositioned themselves. Instead of being straight out behind him, his legs pulled in under his hips. His thighs were getting massive, his soft flabby flesh replaced by lean muscle, covered in black hair. Then he pulled himself up on his arms, so that he was on all fours. I could see his belly pushing out, growing ‘till it touched the ground, and the black hair started to cover it, too. I watched as his dick darken and grow huge, fusing more closely with his body at the base, and hanging loosely from his enormous underbelly. In his half finished form, it touched the ground. Sal reached out and gently touched it, chuckling.

“Quite a package we’ve given you, eh Jimmy?” Sal laughed.

Hoffa reared around, trying to identify this new, heavy sensation. His legs started lengthening, and his knees were snapping into position. His calves became thin, bony, and delicate. He was having trouble balancing, with his normal human arms and horse legs.

“How does it feel, Jimmy?” taunted the boss.

“My gut’s gonna explode!” he cried. “Make it stop! I’ll do anything you say. I’ll disappear, never give you a moments trouble, I’m begging you, make it stop!”

“It’s a little late for that, Jimmy. There’s no turning back. Don’t worry, though, we’ll take good care of you. In fact, you’ll be quite valuable to us as a racehorse.” The boss said, as he walked over and slapped Hoffa on his rump.

Hoffa’s spine was lengthening now, and his ribcage was pushing outward, forming clearly into a horse’s hairy body. Then the muscles between his chest and arms expanded and reconfigured themselves, and his arms began to form into front legs. As they lengthened, Hoffa found his balance, and stood as tall as me on all fours. He was this bizarre creature, with a human head and neck, attached to a toned, muscular horse’s body, with human hands and feet. He looked down at himself, speechless. He tested his new legs, flexing them. His mind was still fully human, trapped within a horse’s body.

“You…can’t…do…” he was trying to talk, but it was getting more difficult. He looked down again, and watched is terror as his hands and feet began to darken and lose definition. I stared, stunned, as they fused into hooves. Hoffa lifted his leg and pawed the ground with his new hoof. Then he got a strange look on his face, as his eyes began to bulge. He looked straight ahead, and cried “Nooo…”

His neck started to grow longer, and began to fatten, with huge new muscles pulsating out and connecting with his chest. His eyes were sliding to the sides of his head, and his face was pushing out, with a sickening sound of grinding bone. He flared his nostrils as his nose flattened into his snout, and as he tried to speak, a weak whinny came out. His ears pushed upward, and developed points, flicking about. The doctor came around to his face, and leaned in close.

“I’m so sorry,” the Doctor said, whispering to Hoffa. “If I had known who the people were that were financing my experiments, I never…”

“What’s that, Doctor?” the boss said. “You gotta problem?”

The doctor stiffened, and looked scared.

“No sir. No problem.”

Hoffa’s massive skull was now that of a horse, with a long snout and large, prominent teeth. Hair began to cover it, black with a white triangle on his muzzle. He looked at the boss, pleadingly, with the last of his humanity, and I saw his eyes go black. He was a horse now. He was panting heavily, a great tongue lolling about, his gleaming black coat lathered with sweat. He neighed loudly.

Sal pulled out a big cigar and fired it up, blowing great clouds of smoke, smiling like a proud new father, the image of the perfect new horse reflected in his ever present dark sunglasses. He and the boss shook hands.

“You know what to do next.” The boss said to Sal.

With that, Sal clamped the cigar in his teeth and strolled over behind the doctor, and in one quick motion, grabbed his arms and pushed him to the ground. In no time he had his hands tied, and pushed him over in to the next stall.

“What are you doing!” cried the doctor.

“You know too much, Doctor Turner.” The boss said. “I don’t trust your loyalty. Sal, you’ve been working with the doctor for a long time now. You sure you know how to do this?”

“No problem boss. Ol’ doc taught me everything I need to know.”

Sal motioned for me to help, and we tied the doctor to tethers just like we had done to Hoffa.

As the doctor protested and pulled against the restraints, Sal set up another I.V., pulled off the doctor’s clothes, and began his work.

“My research!” cried the doctor. Do you have any idea what I’ve discovered? If you do this to me, it will take years for other scientists to figure out what I already know, do you have any idea what…”

“Sal, I’ve been thinking,” the boss said, cutting off the doctor’s rant. “Mr. Hoffa needs some company. Someone to help him relax. Do you think you can make the doctor into a female?”

Sal grinned, as the doctor stared in horror. “No problem boss!”

Sal made some adjustments to the formula, and started his work. I sat and watched, mesmerized, as the doctor was transformed quickly into a fine looking mare. Unlike Hoffa, he remained standing. First his backside and his hips grew and shifted, forcing him to drop on to all fours. His tail sprouted. Then his dick kind of shriveled, pulled up into him as if turning inside out, and disappeared as he became female. In the next stall, Hoffa sniffed the air, as if he hand found a pleasurable scent coming his way. He looked curious.

Then the doctor’s legs lengthened and torso filled out, covered with an auburn coat, followed by the formation of his hooves.

The doctor looked behind himself, gazing upon his new body. Then he turned and looked at Hoffa. Then, as if realizing that this wouldn’t be so bad after all, he, or rather she, smiled, closed her eyes in resignation and turned forward, convulsing as her skull and neck finished their transformation.

Sal gave me a cigar and I lit it, admiring our work. I gotta admit, I found myself enjoying it as much as Sal did, watching a man become an animal. After all we weren’t killing anyone, just, you know, modifying them. I figured that if given the choice between death and this, most people would choose life as a horse, so we were doing them a favor, right? I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like. One minute you’re standing there on two legs, human, the next your trotting around on all fours, a huge, powerful beast. Man, it was cool to watch, that’s for sure.

When it was over, Sal slipped bridles into the mouths of both animals, and they instantly became docile and obedient, as if they were trained. He removed the shackles, and led them into the fenced yard.

The two horses walked unsteadily around the barnyard, testing their new bodies, growing comfortable with them, then trotted about, sniffing the air, and circling each other. After about a hour I could see Hoffa growing excited, agitated. His member was huge and stiff. He began chasing the doctor, and then leapt up onto her. She offered no resistance. Then he pushed himself into her, and began thrusting instinctively. He seemed to be in ecstasy. Sal and I just laughed and puffed on our cigars.

When the new horses had finished mating, the boss strode over to Hoffa. “You see? It’s not so bad. I think you’re going to enjoy your new life aren’t you?” he petted his snout affectionately. “Beautiful piece of horseflesh, isn’t he?” the boss said, as Sal and I nodded. Hoffa flicked his tail and nodded his head as if to agree. Sal got out a saddle, and secured it on to Hoffa’s back. The boss mounted him, and took him out for a run. Man, he was fast. It was amazing to think that just a couple of hours ago, he as a fat old teamster.

Well, Hoffa did enjoy himself. Under the name “Teamster’s Pet” he ran as a thoroughbred in many races, making the mob a small fortune. He loved to run, and was clearly excited before every race. I’ve gotta chuckle just thinking about how many times people watched a race, not realizing that old Jimmy Hoffa was right in front of them!

The Doc gave birth to a fine colt, Hoffa’s first, and was mother to many more later on. When Hoffa’s racing days were over, he became a stud horse, sired a ton of offspring, and lived out his life on the farm. Sal became the official mob veterinarian, and performed the same operation many times, on mob informants, cops, witnesses, or anyone else who got in the way.

I helped Sal quite a few times, and like I said, it was kinda fun. We made it into a kind of ritual. First tying down our subject, then explaining to them what was about to happen, then watching, admiring, every inch of the change. Then we’d fire up our celebratory cigars, slip a bridle onto the new horse and see it become tame and obedient. Sometimes we’d take the new beast out for a ride or let him or her mate to help them accept and enjoy their new bodies. But in my gut I knew that if I hung around long enough, I’d manage to get on somebody’s bad side and find myself tethered in that stall. The last straw was when a young kid was caught trespassing on the farm. He was hiding in the barn and had seen one of the transformations. He was so scared that he tried to run, and we spotted him. I tried to talk Sal out of it. After all, if he talked no one would believe a little kid’s wild story. But Sal insisted that we had to change him into a colt to keep him quiet. Other guys, they had it coming. But a helpless kid, well that really bothered me. Like the others, he seemed to be quite comfortable in his new form, but still, a kid, you know? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I got outta town a few months ago and I’ve been laying low.

I’m afraid my human days are numbered. Word on the street is, Sal is looking for me. I don’t think there’s much time, so I’m just writing this story in the hope that someone will find it and know what really happened. Hey, maybe it won’t be so bad, trotting around the barnyard, munching on hay and mounting the occasional mare. There’s no point in resisting if Sal finds me. I can think of worse retirements.