Waking after a transformation was worse than a hangover.
Aching muscles and bones, a headache, being awoken by confused yelling, the realization that it wasn’t a nightmare and your human existence is over.
Also the screams of the stable worker realizing that all the donkeys were out and for some reason they had four new jennies in the stables, sleeping together on a bunch of fancy rags.
They didn’t seem to pay attention to the shreds of cloth all over the place, I always wonder if they knew, even after they put us through the vet’s check.
The vet was clear, four healthy and fertile jennies in the prime of their lives.
The “Pleasure Island” Sanctuary was against the donkeys being used as beasts of heavy burden. But they used them for riding, breeding and novelty events such as donkey derbies.
We were livestock after all and the owners quickly put us to work being mounted by humans, especially children.
I would like to say that we protested and lamented, but that’s not entirely true, it’s as Miranda said, what else could we do?
They saw us as just donkeys, the other donkeys saw us as just donkeys, only one of the jennies seemed to notice our doom in the same way as we noticed each other, but she could help us about as much as we could help her.
That jenny worked alone pulling a small cart that the children would get on, a pretty easy job in my opinion because sometimes we had to be ridden by fat people.
The humiliation of being used as donkeys to ride, having to clop around naked in farm fairs, amusement park, children's parties, livestock events… carrying on our back strange people as hillbillies or drunk farmers.
Pretty infuriating indeed.
Have you ever noticed that some people can be quite insufferable? My cunt is more cosmopolitan and interesting than all of them!
Sigh, I miss cocktails, I miss my life.
I even miss eating at 5-star restaurants. Sometimes we have to eat from the same grass where we do our needs.
The owner of the sanctuary is at least not as harsh as he could be and is quite a hot chunk, we have seen him flirting with several women, which makes us green with envy.
Did I mention that we are fertile? As you might have guessed we got exploited in that way too, I’m sure it isn’t a surprise to say that Samantha was the first to go into the breeding pen.
She took her first pregnancy pretty well, maybe because jackasses are way superior to men.
Yes, we all got put to breeding and to pulling and to the simple mindless routine of a donkey to be ridden that ended up making our days blur into each other and our humanity slowly became a distant mental fog.
But... it could have been worse... at least that’s what I want to think...
I miss writing, I don’t know how I can still think like this, it’s not as if I could ever write again with my big clumsy hooves, I guess it’s self therapy to try and not hate myself too much for resigning into jenny-hood.
Still, I think this would have been my best article ever, don’t you agree?
Sigh, sigh a hundred times.
I still hate donkeys, but I love the jackass’s cock, I love my foals and I especially love my jennies.
Nobody came looking for us, it’s as if we have been forgotten, or we have always been jennies, I’m not even sure if the plates by the stalls still have our names - reading is becoming... hard...
But it’s normal, kinda normal, in such a big city.
In a city where a million things happen every minute, who would have noticed that four women just became donkeys?