As the jizz covered the first three rows of the audience, the laughing patrons suddenly started braying. Their hands became hooves, as they struggled out of their seats and clothing, one noticeable difference could be seen. All of the men were not hung like donkeys--at least not male ones. As the men behind them watched, their small human penises shrank and were reabsorbed into their bodies, and the flesh reshaped to form a labia. Those hit by the jizz were now female donkeys.
"There you go, Mr. Atwater, as I promised a breeding herd of fine young donkeys," said the theatre owner standing in the wings to an angry looking older gentleman.
The older gentleman turned beet red, and said in words clipped to repress shouting, "I hope you can change them back, my sons were sitting in the front row!"
"Oh, er, uh, I can make them human again," the theatre owner began nervously.
"Well, then do it. Restore my sons."
"But you see they are female now, and if I restore them you'll just have a bunch of nymphomaniac daughters. You do have other children, don't you? And this way you have hard working donkeys who will breed you a lot more," he paused as he could hear his customer mentally finishing the sentence with "grandchildren". Bruno made a mental note to find out who set Mr. Atwater's sons in the front row, and that the salt mines would be too good for them. Atwater was one of his best customers, or had been.
Atwater glared lost in in anger and thought.