This choice: More Flawless 89's Storylines. • Go Back...Chapter #4Umbridges' adventures in the Forbidden Forest. by: Mr. George   As the former 'High Inquisitor' of Hogwarts was carried deeper into the forest. The centaurs knew nothing of her behaviour at the school. They took her to their sacred hollow for judgement. Their limited knowledge of her was already that she viewed them as inferior, that she saw them as little more than animals.
She stood in the middle of the natural bowl in the earth. She scanned around the rim, the centaurs formed a solid wall. Each with their own bow drawn. The creak of the wood under strain, as the last one left her alone. She knew not to follow.
"Drink." The bearded elderly centaur commanded.
Dolores glanced to the pedestal beside her, and the shallow silver bowl atop it.
"It's poison. I refuse to drink it." she folded her arms, her strident tone sounding more like a petulant child refusing a strange, new piece of food.
The centaur simply added, "It is truth."
She refused to answer, with her jaw locked, she shook her head. As if she were afraid of the herd forcing her to drink. As if such a display would be a barrier.
With a sigh, the elder, Dolores assumed, repeated, "It is the truth. Either drink or face summary judgement."
The creaking of the taut bow, made it perfectly clear what summary judgement involved.
Her lip tic'd, and with as much strained dignity as she could manage she tried to lift the bowl from the pedestal. Her chubby fingers going white as she heaved. But it remained an integral part of the pedestal. With a depressed groan of realisation, she worked out it was set up for the centaurs, at this height for them. She knew she needed to lower her head to the bowl, and drink... like an animal.
It was clear like rain-water, and didn't have any strong odour. The surface rippled and flowed like water as her breathing disturbed the surface. Perhaps it was a test of courage, she half hoped.
She slurped loudly, as she took her first mouthful. Dipping for a second draught, her spine snapped rigid, and she stood erect unable to move. Her breathing shallow, with only her eyes capable of moving, of taking in the scene. It was somewhat reassuring. The bows were lowered, and the head centaur walked down to stand beside her.
His muscular chest pressed against her back, so she felt his words as much as heard them.
"The Truth. Confess your truth."
His gruff voice striking a chord with her soul, she felt it vibrate deep inside her. Dolores' cheeks flushed, as she recognised the reaction.
She felt her jaw unlock, and for the next hour she confessed every dark deed, thought and fear, every malicious action.
She confessed to her fear of ... of ... half-breeds.
She confessed to setting the dementors on Harry Potter.
She confessed to her absolute terror of Lord Voldemort. Even gasping at her own compelled use of his name.
She confessed her abuse of the students. Drawing a whicker disapproval from the centaurs. The abuse of foals, of those in one's care was a heinous action in centaur society.
As Dolores' throat ran dry, she knew she was doomed from her own mouth.
The spell broke, and she collapsed to kneel beside the pedestal. Her confessions surprising even her with her own honesty. Her self-delusions ripped away.
The centaur softly stroked her hair, as he stood beside her. Offering what little comfort he could.
"And now you face judgement."
A last flicker of defiance flared in her, "Who are you to judge me?" she snapped. Twisting she looked up at the figure towering over her. There was only sadness on his face, and he explained, "We aren't judging you. The judgement comes from within you."
Looking through her eyes, he saw Dolores' judgement building in her own mind.
"You can come here any time you wish." he offered. Taking a few shuffling steps backwards through the bed of fallen leaves, he gave her room.
She sat there, determined to fight back the tears she felt coming. Then the transformation started. A steady tick-tick-tick came from Dolores' grubby pink skirt. The seams surrendering to her expanding rear. Until like a machine gun, it accelerated into a rapid rip. The tatters fell to the forest floor. Her riper rump was blessed with it's own equine tail. She gazed in horror at it. Transfixed, unsure whether to cover her absent clothes, and half-afraid to touch it, to confirm it's reality.
The creaking of straining leather was the last and only warning her shoes gave before they were fired off her feet. Feet that had already transformed into stiff hooves. She watched as her plump thighs, grew even thicker, even fuller, gaining muscle as they developed.
She shrieked as she felt her pelvis twist, and a long row of bones click outwards. Hearing her spine crack, she watched as it turned and extended backwards. Hands fumbling, she tried to force it all backwards. To somehow push that clearly horse spine back, to return her human bottom to it's pristine, original condition.
Her head shook in denial, she wasn't a mere beast. She was fully human, more than a centaur.
A button popped on her blouse, and she felt the tightening of her bra. Swallowing, she knew she was going to become fully a centauress. Her human half would expand to match the proportions of her horse-half. Her diet of cream-cakes, and little exercise had given her curves that she knew could draw Fudge's eyes. With a rippling surge, the bra too surrendered. Instinctively, she cradled her bust. Each full breast bigger than her head, she gasped. They were extra-sensitive too. Though she hoped that was purely for the transformation. Surely, they couldn't stay this easily aroused.
The last of her clothes finally succumbed to her changes. Apparently, the centauress' went topless, as Dolores' changes, her nudity drew no great attention, or even much of a reaction from the surrounding centaurs. She didn't want to examine the twinge of anger, and offence that she briefly felt.
So concerned was she with her bust, that she hadn't noticed the rest of the changes were already complete. She saw her fore hooves folded beneath her broad equine torso. A glance over her shoulder confirmed the soft ginger fur that coated her down to the.... her tail. The tail matching her hair, again her hands scrabbled. Hair no more, it was her mane, cascading down her human half to reach the layer where human met horse.
She fought her feeling of vulnerability getting unsteadily to her fee.... her hooves. She stood unsteadily wobbling like a foal, on her splayed legs. A sense of pride at her success, and the approving smile of the centaur elder.
"You are a were-centaur now, Miss Umbridge." he told her calmly. His voice felt fatherly and kind.   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
| Members who added to this interactive story also contributed to these: |
<<-- Previous · Outline  · Recent Additions © Copyright 2025 Mr. George (UN: rjh-kk at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Vincanity has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work within this interactive story. Poster accepts all responsibility, legal and otherwise, for the content uploaded, submitted to and posted on Writing.Com. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author