Hi,

It’s been a long time since we last talked. I’m sorry for suddenly going silent this past year. My life has undergone massive changes, and it might never return to what you’d call "normal." Since you’re one of my best friends, I figured I should let you know what’s been happening to me.

It all started a year ago. I had just graduated from university and was stressing out over job hunting. One dark and windy night, a man in a trench coat showed up at my door. I have no idea why he chose me. He made me an offer: spend a year as a centaur, with food, lodging, and everything else provided. At the end of the year, they’d turn me back to normal and give me a huge sum of money as compensation.

I know it sounds crazy. That’s exactly how I felt when I first heard it. A centaur? What does that even mean? Was this some kind of prank show or social experiment?

The man patiently explained. A centaur, as you’d imagine, is the mythical half-human, half-horse creature. If I agreed, I wouldn’t just wear a costume—I would genuinely become one.

He showed me photos of so-called centaurs and explained their anatomy, habits, and what to expect after the transformation.

I know what you’re thinking. This is too bizarre to be real. I thought so too. But when he mentioned a sum of money that could sustain me for over a decade, I hesitated. It was just one year. And according to him, I wouldn’t have to do anything during that time. Maybe I could give it a shot?

I asked for more details: Who are they? Why are they doing this? How does a human turn into a centaur? But he only reassured me that my safety was guaranteed, and after a year, I’d definitely turn back and get paid.

He gave me three days to think it over. After getting a few more job rejection emails, I agreed. Even now, I’m not sure why I made that choice. It didn’t make rational sense, but I don’t regret it.

They took me to a vast ranch (I can’t say where due to an NDA). First, they gave me a thorough health check, then let me choose my preferred body type and coat color.

Once everything was set, they had me sign the contract.

That night, they brought me to an old stable. That’s when I realized I wasn’t alone—there were dozens of others participating too. They assigned each of us a stall and told us to sleep there. The smell wasn’t great, but they had prepared simple bedding, so I fell asleep pretty quickly.

The next morning, I woke up not in the stall but lying naked on open grassland. I tried to stand, but my lower body wouldn’t respond. Looking down, I saw I’d truly become a centaur. The brown horse body I had chosen was seamlessly attached below my waist. The weight of my new frame felt so unfamiliar. Looking around, I saw the other participants waking up too, realizing what they had become.

It took me a few days to get used to controlling four legs—walking, turning, galloping, sitting, lying down. But eventually, it all started feeling natural, like I was born this way. Just as the man promised, they provided everything we needed: living spaces and bathing facilities suited to our size, plus daily vegetarian meals that balanced human culinary culture (thankfully) with our new anatomy.

The days were relaxed. At first, I spent half the day studying, since I’d need a job when the year was up. The rest of the time, I exercised with an instructor—running, jumping hurdles—or played team games with the other centaurs.

Gradually, my days became more open. I read, drew, and wrote, not for some practical goal, but because I wanted to. I also spent more time moving, growing to love the strength my new body gave me. My instructor was great at guiding me. The strange horse half below my waist stopped feeling like an add-on. It became a part of me.

A month before the contract ended, I was called to what seemed like the ranch’s management office. There, I met another centaur—not one of my peers, but an older man in a suit jacket over his human half. The staff called him "the boss."

The boss congratulated me on nearing the end of my year, then told me a story.

As a little boy, he had been fascinated by centaur legends, imagining what they looked like, how they lived, even what it would be like to be one.

When he grew up and made a fortune in business, he heard about the legend of this ranch and bought the property without hesitation. Whether it was an ancient wizard’s prank or the grudge of horse spirits, anyone who slept in the stable stalls on a full moon night would wake up as a centaur, with the type of horse body depending on the stall.

So, the boss experimented on himself, became a centaur, and fell in love with this race he once thought was pure fantasy. He decided to create more centaurs. He paid people handsomely to sleep in the stalls, figured out which stall produced which horse body, and discovered how to turn back: sleep in the stall again on a new moon night within a year.

But if the transformation lasted beyond a year, even returning to the stall wouldn’t fully reverse it. Some kept hooves, others retained horse genitals. The longer it went, the more horse traits remained.

The boss told me I’d get the promised compensation no matter what. But I had a choice: return to being human, or stay a centaur forever. He was building a new village just for centaurs and invited me to live there with him.

Tonight, as I write this, is the last new moon night I can turn back—the day I make my final decision. Right now, I’m in my dorm, not going anywhere.

This year, I’ve realized that what I chased in society before wasn’t what I truly wanted. Life here showed me that. I love the centaur lifestyle, the strength and stability of this body. The boss assured me life in the village wouldn’t be much different. I’m not alone in feeling this. None of my peers chose to go back to being human. We’re all moving forward together.

Still, the world doesn’t know centaurs exist, so I can’t return to human society anytime soon. Honestly, though, I don’t miss much—except you and our friends, of course (haha).

Lastly, I know it’s unlikely, but if you’re curious about what it’s like to be a centaur, you could try calling this number: XXX-XXXX. The boss is always looking for new centaurs.

That’s it for now. Hope we can meet again someday.

P.S. I’ve attached a photo of myself! Sorry I’m not wearing clothes. Most centaurs here don’t.