Several hours pass as the sun finally begins to set. All the while, you've been hammering away with your mind against your furry four-legged prison. At the end of the day, you are mentally exhausted. You find yourself mindlessly following the rest of your new herd back to the stables. You are vaguely aware you haven't seen Jeb around, and briefly wonder why.
It was nearly full-on dark by the time the farmer began to stable all the animals. You find yourself obediently going into Jeb's stable, taking his spot. The farmer, your new owner, referring to you as Jeb.
"Jeb," you think sleepily. "I guess that's my name from now on..."
....you drift off to sleep, still stuck in your new donkey form....
....it was an ordinary day. Like any others. You get up, brush your teeth, shower, put on your clothes for the day, and head to the bus stop on your way to school. You meet up with your friends like usual. Like usual, the morning ride on the bus to school was subdued. Everyone still waking up and dreading yet another day of boring old lessons.
"Well, at least I'm not a stupid smelly old donkey stuck on a farm," you think to yourself. "Dealing with school is easy." But the thought provokes a dirty physical reaction.
The sky is bright with the morning sun as your bus arrives. You head to your locker to grab your things for your morning classes, then head to homeroom. Your homeroom teacher takes roll call as usual after the morning announcements.
"Jeb," the teacher says. You look over at the donkey-headed kid next to you. He's big, hair, and smells badly. He brays a "heee haaww," as he raises his hand. He looks over at you, and makes a big ugly goofy grin with huge unbrushed yellowish-green blocky teeth.
"Heee hhaawww," he says, as he continues staring at you with his dumb-looking face.
You sigh in disgust as you look away. "What a filthy animal. At least I'm not a big ugly smelly old donkey stuck on a farm," you think for the second time.
The bell rings to change classes. American history. Your first period class. You grab your backpack, get up, and head to Mr. Frick's classroom. It's a big high school, and takes you nearly the ten minutes to make your way across the crowded hallways and up a flight of steps to get there.
Today's lesson was farming in the American Midwest and the importance of animal power before the invention of the internal combustion engine. The teacher seemed to take keen interest in donkeys and how they were domesticated from the African savannah. Imported to America alongside human slaves.
The lesson took a weird turn when you suddenly found yourself in biology class The biology teacher was talking about the dietary needs of donkeys. Mostly field grasses, as they were a herding prey animal that grazes throughout most of the day.
The bell rings for....lunch...? Already...?
Shrugging, you get up and make your way to the cafeteria you are assigned to. Being as large a high school as this is, there are three cafeterias. And as large as the school is, it has to save on it's budget. On today's menu, is....grass....? Lame! You're sick of eating grass. You've been chewing on grass all day. But you have no other choices on offer. Grass it is!
With a plateful of grass, you join your friends at your usual lunch table. You look around, and everyone has pizza, french fries, and a purple slushy drink.
You begin to dig into your lunch first. You take a bite of the nasty stuff, and want to spit it back out. Instead, you begin shovelling more and more into your mouth. Chewing. Swallowing. Chewing. Swallowing. You could swear you were almost finished eating, but everytime you look at your plate, there's more!
"I don't know how you eat that stuff man," someone says.
You open your mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. It's as if you had lost your voice. You continue shovelling more of the gag-inducing feed into it.
"Well, at least I'm not a stupid smelly old donkey stuck on a farm," you think again for the third time.
All the sudden, it was time to go home. You put your lunch tray away, still filled with grass, and make your way....into a stable!...?
There's a mirror you see and approach it. Staring back at you, are the big brown unintelligent eyeballs of a donkey. A full donkey staring back at you! You attempt to say...
""Well, at least I'm not a stupid smelly old donkey stuck on a farm," for the fourth time, but all that comes out is a "heeee hhaawww hhheee hhaawww hhheee hhaawww hhheee hhaawww!"
You attempt to reach up to touch your face, but all you do is manage to paw the ground. The donkey in the mirror immitates your movement exactly! On all fours! You are no longer standing on two legs! You actually feel your four-legged body as it looks in the mirror.
"Hee haaww heee haaww heee haaww!" You bray....
You feel something tugging on your face!
"Come on, Jeb!" you hear someone say.
More tugging!
"Out you- blah, blah, blah, blah, Jeb!"
You finally open your eyes, and find yourself being led out of the stables and into a black outdoors. You are both groggy and bleary-eyed, being so rudely awakened from your intense dream.
"What time is it," you attempt to ask. "Haaaww heee hhaawww," is all you manage.
"Blah blah, Jeb, blah blah, blah!"
Into the field you are led, gate shut, electricity turned on. The nightmare dream still fresh in your mind, but fading. You remember looking at a mirror and seeing nothing but a gray-furred, long-eared donkey idiotically staring back!
"Heee hhaawww," you bray as you look back at the body you feel extending behind you.
"Hee hhaawww!" "Oh, no!"
"Heee hhaawww....heee hhaawww...heee hhaawww!"
You begin to panic. You ARE a stupid smelly old donkey stuck on a farm! With growing dread, you slowly remember the events from yesterday. You just spent the entire day yesterday grazing and all night sleeping in a stable! As a donkey named Jeb!
"Those socks!" You think. "I need those socks!" But you realize that is now impossible. Your "fingers" do not exist. You only have your immovable blocky hooves.
"HEEE HHAAW HeE HHAAWW HHEE HHAAWW!" Your panicking rises. You start to hyperventilate as you look back and stare at the useless and crude farm animal body you are stuck with extending nearly to the limit of your weakened visual range. Your tail flicks in and out of view in your agitation.
"Tail....my...tail....MY....TAIL!" You think. "I don't want a...tail!"
For some reason, you mentally focus on the fact that your body possesses a tail. It sickens you with intense humiliation. "Hee hhaaw hhee HHAAWW HHEE HHAAWW!" You continue braying.
"Blah blah blah blah Jeb?" says the voice of the farmer that suddenly appeared in front of you. The farmer was asking what your problem was, but for some reason, you couldn't understand his words! Just only the word "Jeb."
Blah blah blah blah blah!" he shouted.
You continue braying, and he continues to shout at you. He eventually smacks you in your rump, getting your attention.
"Blah blah blah blah blah!"
You stare at him dumbly exactly as Jeb would have. You know he's talking to you, but you can't make out a single word hes saying! Your hormones have weakened your word interpretation capacity in your brain and reduced it to the capacity of Jeb's. Your final connection to the human world has been severed.
You can still think in human words. For now. Until the lack of useful communication slowly deteriorates even that over time. But for now, you can still think in normal English terms. Just can no longer understand spoken words from any human, other than the word "Jeb." Which is now you!
The farmer, meanwhile, has fitted you with a bridle. He attached it to a plow, and he now has full command over your body. You are not just a breeder animal! You're a....WORK animal! With growing horror, you realize you are now enslaved, with nothing but a stable to sleep in and grass to eat! Just like your ancestors beginning hundreds of years ago!
"My ancestors?" You think, as your body mindlessly takes control; your mind once again going for a ride right along with it. Only this time, you're a plow animal. "But Im not a donkey!" you continue thinking. "At least, I wasn't BORN as a donkey. So the history of donkeys being used as work animals; they're not my ancestors. Not technically, anyway...."
Across the field you go, dragging a heavy piece of farm equipment that is resisting your efforts due to a blade cutting into the earth. It's hard wordk, but your donkey body continues to be in control, following it's domesticated instincts to be controlled by a human. This human in particular.
There's nothing you can possibly do about it. You're trapped as this hideous farm animal, enslaved to it's will, and in turn, to the will of an old Amish farmer.
"....I suppose they ARE my ancestors now," you think dejectedly. This is hard work. You've only been at it for an hour, and only got two rows compete. Not that you can tell time. But you know it's been a little while. You can clearly see this field extends far into the distance.
Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. You labor all morning dragging a plow for an Amish man, in order to feed other humans. 45 minutes per row.
At high noon, the man stops at the end of one of the rows you just got finished plowing. He leaves you tied to the machine. He walks over, and ties a feed bag to your snout.
"Blah. Blah blah blah blah blah, blah Jeb," he says. ("Well. It's time for my lunch, Jeb," for all the readers out there. But you don't understand a word he's saying.)
You then see him walk away, down the tree-shaded lane at the edge of the sun-drenched field you're standing in. You briefly bray after him. But only briefly. You absentmindedly begin chewing on the moistend slimy food in your bag. You don't much care for the earthy taste, but your body is in automatic mode due to hunger.
Energy feed pellets watered down . It's the most water you'll be given on your workdays, which last six days a week. You will only have Sundays off, and today is a Monday. Which is why you were left to your own devices yesterday, as your first day as Jeb.
You begin to grow bored. Your mind is slowly reverting to that of the animal you've become, so you sort of go into a trance-like state as you stand around on all fours mostly mindlessly munching on your energy feed pellets in the bag tied to your snout. You don't go anywhere, as your halter is still tied to the plow. You are left just standing there, while your owner is in his house eating his mid-day meal of eggs, hash browns, and ham.
Even though your mind is slowly simplifying, you still retain a human intelligence. Maybe that of a child's by the end of the day. In the meantime, you slowly ponder your fate once again. You look around yourself, seeing nothing but donkey hide along your flanks, hooked up to that plow. You'd buck and kick, if you could. But donkeys aren't very aggressive creatures. Your instincts keep you tied to your slavery.
You look at the progress you've made in this field. You finished 8 rows, but that's just the start. You wonder how long it will take to plow this entire field. Looking the other direction to your right, the field looks endless. You feel warm and tired. It's starting to get a little hot in the mid day sun, and you know it's only April. You still see your breath coming out of your warm nostrils, steaming out of your bag. You realize you're a large furry animal with a thick coat. If you're already this warm, you wonder what the July and August sun is going to feel like if you don't escape this body..... You begin to mentally cry. Your big brown eyes only moistening a little bit.
Suddenly, the farmer has arrived again. "Blah blah blah!" he says, as he climbs back upon the plow to force you to begin the second half of your day's work after removing your feed bag.
"Heee hhaawww!" You bray in protest, trying to speak and forgetting for a moment that you can't talk. The farmer lightly whips your hide with a shout of "BLAH!" at the same time.
Your body surges forward, the plow somehow feeling heavier from this morning. "I'm just a donkey," you think sadly.
It's a long day. 12 more rows complete, as the light in the sky dims to near pitch-black. Finally, the farmer unhitches you. As soon as he does, you immediately feel much lughter. He uses your reigns to lead you back to the barn, and the sensation of walking without a plow behind you seems physically easy. But the oppression of your form weighs heavily upon you. You're still a four-legged farm creature that has just spent two full days and one night like this. You really wanted your hands back. But alas, they do not exist, and probably never will.
By the time you made it back to the stables and into Jeb's stall, you were exhausted. It didn't take long for you to drift off to sleep as a beast of burden for a second night in a row.