As the first crack of dawn shines through the windows, you soon realize that the changes aren't going away like it did before. In fact, you doubt you're even turning back at all. Dread fills you at the prospect that the hay you've eaten hadn't just changed you but also induced some sort of permanence to it, which might also be the reason why they're feeding it to those unfortunate victims. You look down at your body in dismay, your torso and you arms are the only bits that still looks human and even those look hairy and bulging with animalistic muscles.
"Haw'm so glaawd hee-haw Sawturday..."
Then there's your voice, teetering between hoarse words and coarse brays. How are you supposed to hide this!?!
"At least I still haaawve hands..."
You tried, but a small bray still manages to escape your muzzle despite your best efforts to speak human. You give up on the matter for now and decide to address something else much more pressing upon your mind. Namely, the nature's call and your grumbling stomach, you didn't have the time to do either of both since you hopped onto the boat going to that accursed Carnival. (Briefly, you wonder if you should report this to the authorities, but worry gnaws at you at the possibility that it wouldn't be as easy as doing just that.)
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You're a bit disgruntled to discover that nothing on your bellow your waist escaped the metamorphosis. The unfamiliarity of your altered tools makes it awkward for you to take a leak or a dump. You take solace in the fact that you can still do it the human way, relatively speaking. You just have to get used to holding a much thicker and longer pissing tube, and making sure to be seated closer to the bowel's edge so your long-hanging scrotum doesn't get dunked in the cold toilet water. It's... surprisingly not as messy or terrible you had assumed it's going to be, then again, you're comparing yourself to farm animals that know jack (Haw!) about potty-training.
'Maybe... things aren't as gloomy as I thought they are... Maybe, this isn't so bad at all... Maybe I can do this. Maybe I can live with this...?'
Your thoughts wander as you flush the toilet and wash your hands, staring blankly at the jackass in the mirror contemplating about his life choices. Nothing seems to be changing back, as far as you can tell.