Teenaged boys and jackasses have one thing in common. They're not known for their finesse.
He would look back with intense remorse at the brief fit of anger that caused him to rear on his gray, furry hind legs with unforeseen catastrophic results. When gravity took over shortly after he reared up, forcing him back down to the floor on all fours, his bulky donkey body shifted position slightly, just enough to contact the corner of his desk.
The cheap wobbly desk shifted, too, and the Chronivac that Jeff had left near the edge of his desk simply plunged off the cluttered surface and fell about three feet to the hardwood floor. He saw the important device falling and, if he'd still had his human hands, he might have caught it before it reached the floor. As it was, he could only watch in horror-inducing slow motion as the Chronivac dropped off the destabilized desk.
Jeff's inordinately large, furry ears picked up the resulting crash in excruciating detail as the sensitive piece of technology made a punishing contact with the floor. A strange shower of blue sparks danced in the air above the device before they faded quickly. Jeff's wide nostrils smelled an acrid odor as a blue-gray smoke rose from the damaged technology.
He wanted to hope that the brief shower of sparks and puff of smoke were signs that the device wasn't too damaged. He wanted to check the timer, to see if it was still operating, still counting down to his restoration in roughly 23 hours, but the device had landed on its side, facing the screen toward the floor. Jeff lacked hands to pick up the device.
Wanting to simply reach down and pick up the device, and not being able to do so, causes that frustration and anger to return with a vengeance. "This is such a fucking mess!" Jeff wanted to say, but he's only able to produce a panicked "HeeHawww!"
Hearing himself, unequipped with hands to complete a simple task, Jeff produces more panicked braying, producing loud, unwelcome "HeeHaws!" over and over until he's quite light-headed and short of breath.
He tries to push away concerns about what will happen once the countdown ends in roughly 23 more hours. Will he still change back to his real self? Or is he now stuck? Permanently a damn donkey! No! That's too awful to contemplate, but that's exactly what his frenzied mind does. It imagines endless days, stuck on all fours, no hands or fingers, simply hooves. CLOP! CLOP! CLOP! Everywhere he goes. Imagining the sound his hooves make focuses his thoughts. Like a switch, his thoughts are crowded with a need for release. Not just release from this hateful donkey form, but a more urgent release, to add more of the unpleasant odors to the mix already in his rooms from his earlier masturbating.
The massive donkey cock inflates more like a balloon than an organ. It's ready to do its part. HeeeHAAW! Jeff brays with horny dismay.