"Look, we just had a little misunderstanding, see," said the floating would-be master of the freed genie. "What I meant was that with your powers, we can live as well as you and that old man did, maybe better. If you'd rather be the one in charge, I can go along with that. I'm quite the hard worker, you know. And you have no idea how long I've been studying real magic even in this fake shop."
The genie rolled her eyes. "You're pathetic, you know that?" she said. "Too stupid to catch a genie properly, but supposedly a useful servant for the whoever holds the reins. I was wrong to call you a cur. You're more of an ass."
Ashmael let out a deafening bray right at that instant and covered his mouth. He was afraid to try to say anything else, but when he built up the nerve, all he managed was another bray. The genie laughed. "At least you don't sound too much different!" she quipped. Ashmael blushed, realizing he couldn't talk anymore, and could only make donkey sounds. Then he felt something strange and wobbly just over his bottom. Looking back, he found a gray, brown-tasseled tail swishing around over his butt. He stared stupefied for a moment, waving it around and squinting at it. He had never felt or seen such a thing hanging off of him before. Then his ears felt puffy. He reached up to feel them and gasped at how long and furry they felt. The genie was really turning him into a donkey! He felt the long ears flatten against his skull and even brayed again.
"What was that you said about being a hard worker?" mocked the genie. "I bet you'll work better than ever with those big buff muscles you'll be getting."
Ashmael's hands felt stiff; he held them out front just in time to see them fuse and stretch, morphing into donkey forelegs capped with dark-gray hooves. He tried to split them back up--tried to remember how it felt to spread his fingers or wiggle his thumbs--but all he could do with these blocky hooves was flex his knee and fetlock joints. A similar feeling in his legs and feet left him with a similar set further back. His torso started bulking up into the massive equine trunk while his neck and face lengthened. A dizziness and slight headache plagued him when his eyes got pushed apart, and he had to stifle some nausea while he adjusted to his wider field of view. The genie flicked her wrist, and Ashmael was transported to a stable on a farm somewhere just outside the city.
"Whew! Glad that's over with," said the genie to herself, alone in the backroom of the closed shop. "Now, what to do next?"