Morning comes.
You are not fighting Vickie, or a stallion. Probably not even so much your new equine instincts. You are fighting your deepest desires.
True, you never wanted to be a mare, still dread that thought.
But...you do acknowledge you have always enjoyed helping...pleasing, some might think. Thinking about being one of the stallions, which you tried to focus on during the night, holds no appeal. The sex itself is almost secondary, despite the raging fire in your lady bits. 'Lady bits', it sounds so demure, embarrassingly feminine but you can't imagine being the one to fuck someone...a human, to an animal fate. You simply could not do that if you were to have been made into a stallion.
Ideally you would never be a horse, yet here you are. So despite your ego (former ego?) you know 'stallion' is off the table for you. A sinking, guilty suspicion tells you at some level that there is a reason you got the vagina, have become a mare. You are a pleaser; not a stallion...still...you do not want to please...to become the conquest of...a male stallion. You hope that, like you, the stallions were a different sex when human.
You harbor this hope as you are led out to the arena where your fate will coalesce starting with penetration of your vagina. Almost as if she read your mind Vickie whispers encouragements. You will be serving a purpose, your body will be made useful through the stallions attentions; you will be fulfilled like never before as his penis opens both your lips and your mind...then she veers off to describing the man your stallion, your mate, was before taking on a four legged posture.
Your mind rebels. Her description is so much that of a type of man you couldn't stand when you too were a man. Panic seizes you as the males are led in, to their dripping mates. Your head hangs, your mane draped off one side of your long, sinuous neck similar to how human females present themselves, playing with their hair around a man they're attracted to.