After Missy led her newest jennet donkey to his/her barn stall, she began telling it of what being a female donkey would mean for her to deal with at least once each week.
About the same time, Esmeralda took a firm grasped hold of Hank’s head halter, as she led him to a safer distance from his sexy scented father turned donkey. She spoke softly to him, while congratulating his fair to kindly manner of breeding, of what she termed as a previously irate father transgendered, and becoming equine. Hank offered his less personal reply by giving the forearm of Esmeralda a tongue licking; an instinctive mark of his equine appreciation, and liking.
Esmeralda took an unexpected fancy to Hank’s appreciation, as she leaned forward; giving the donkey her idea of a moist lip kiss upon his puffy, black muzzle. “I thank you Hank; as well I understand your wanting to give that unkind father a good cock throb mating. You deserve all the masculine thrills that your stout cock can deliver; and I shall talk to Missy about her loaning you around for stud duty.”
Hank brayed then a terse sounding cry, leaving Esmeralda to wondering if from Hank becoming a donkey, he was more animal, did not care for her offer. As the aged witch thought to explain further, wanting to boast about how she pictured his loins functioning when in action. Another harsh bray suggested, he might not be subject right then of wanting to hear about her ideas for his future. Together, she walked Hank to his bigger than all the other stalls, and placing him there, slid closed his door and set the lock.
Hank spoke not a bray while watching Esmeralda walk out from the barn; she heading toward the house porch to her then unfinished glass of wine.
Meanwhile, Missy was comforting her new jenny donkey, giving love pats and tender, consoling words. Her newest donkey was not feeling all too thrilled; her tail busily swishing, wiping seeping semen as it dribbled from out her pink vulva lips. “Trust me dear, as given time and from more breeding sessions, you are bound to get accustomed to having Jack donkeys mounting as mating with you!”
The mentality of elderly Mr. Brocker brayed with an indignant tone of her braying, she had not liked of being female, and worse, a donkey animal.
“Just Brocker seems an odd name for an albino donkey; instead, I think Beth Annie fits your feminine form better. I deem you as Beth Annie, the albino donkey, as beginning now you shall prefer and remember being your name!” Said Missy Halstead of Mister Brocker, he a she, had magically transformed of gender and being of a different species. So then, with Beth Annie in her stall, and Hank at the far end away, Missy returned to her wine and visiting with Esmeralda.
“Well, that is handled, now where were we,” Missy said, she lifting her glass for toasting her farm’s profitability.
“Good luck with Hank, he is a well mannered donkey, so mild I gave him a kiss,” Esmeralda said!
“You kissed Hank, kissed like on him where,” asked Missy?
“Huh, on his big, black lips, why,” asked Esmeralda, “I have kissed a beast before, and especially a mild mannered stud.”
“I would not make a habit of doing any kissing an Equine, because it holds a danger,” Missy remarked!
“Why not, I think Hank liked my kissing him,” Esmeralda said to rebut.
“If he were a born animal, or after several weeks of mating, his reaction to being kissed might well break your nose, or from a head shake knock you silly; his head weighs more than a sludge hammer. Besides that, his breath and or tongue might transfer to you such diseases what are associated with horses that to include rabies, ringworm, salmonellosis, and infections with equine brucellosis, and Anthrax,” said Missy. “Worse yet, and from him being a cursed individual, a tongue to tongue kissing can transfer his curse to envelope you; and not like of you being a jennet donkey!
Bold as you can be at times, maybe if some ill fate came your way, then becoming a stud Jack donkey would improve your disposition!”
“Ouch, and thanks, as I like me as I am; speaking of femininity, would you mind loaning Jake to me for some few days; he can breed with my small doe herd, his enhanced semen would do the girls a world of good,” Esmeralda said, but how she asked made Missy suspicious.
“Okay, but be on the lookout, if he corners you, beware his stout penis, it already having ripped a hole in your silken panties, and if he were to mate of you then twice, or thrice, will cause my best friend to need be bleating her wishes for some decades, and before a reformation becomes possible,” said Missy warning.
When the wine was gone, Esmeralda asked again to take of Jake the Billy to her farm, and he for a few days, or a week to breed with her goatherd. Missy reluctantly agreed, reminding her friend too be on the lookout. As the two witches walked toward the pasture gate, Missy asked, “How many doe goats do you have now of age for Jake to mate, last I knew, you had but only three doe goats and no Billy?”
“Twelve,” Esmeralda specified, “Three true born doe goats, and nine changelings, all now being mature size females, horny for being mated!”
“Nine recent changelings and you are not worried about the local authorities searching for missing persons,” Missy exclaimed loudly, as Esmeralda smiled her evilest grin possible.
“Timely Girl Scout cookie sales, the darn pushy girls come selling those sweet cookies. Well when asked inside I offered each a glass of goat milk to try. Their proper manners and foolhardy trusting of an elderly woman had each drinking my potion-laced milk. One-by-one they all fainted, and later twenty hours later, awoke with torrent of bleated cries for help; of what never arrived. Two months since and their bunch of personalities has degraded to accepting they are as goats for my good,” Esmeralda said, and having so told of her wicked deed, from inside the barn they heard angered bray and shattering wood.
“Oh damn, I bet that was Beth Annie, her big ears, she likely took note as overheard what you just said,” Missy grumbled.
What they saw next was different than either expected, as Hank bolted from out the barn; he on a gallop along the farm driveway, was soon gone from sight.
“Now where is he off too again,” grumbled Missy?
“Tell me, as how again did you cause Hank to change of form, a spell, potion, what,” asked Esmeralda?
“Okay, okay, I lied, if just a little, as Hank the donkey, arrived here tainted by magic, he then gifted his childhood dream as realized. I saw past his changed form, to read his thoughts and visualized his recent memories. What Hank Brocker found and used, he tried and his childhood, Pinocchio, Pleasure Island fantasy became true to his desires. If given the proper moment I would have cursed him further, if to suggest his fun become his worst nightmare, and after what he said about me. Well, Hank found some dead witch’s Tome ledger of spells, curses, potions and incantations.
Naturally, he used it, specified his favorite fantasy to become a virile Jackass at stud. He arrived here looking for a friendly host and a place to stay; and ever since, he stands here a donkey, as my stud donkey sire for added profit to aid my farm’s bottom line.
Earlier today, that with Hank feeling his oats was horny, that he tried pleasuring a Fell pony mare. Before the cute mare saw him as a worthwhile mate; his equine instinct moved him to giving the mare a sensual lick across her vulva. That fated move imposed a secondary spell/curse action to arousing him into action.
Finally, as after twenty plus minutes of Hank standing, he mounting the mare, was thrusting that he finally climaxed. Before dismounting his well-fucked pony mare, he slipped while standing in a heap of his then sloppy wet donkey flop. A surprised donkey landed flat on his chin, he found himself at hoof height to the females standing around him. They saw their virile male fall, and became nervous and stirring to move, as other jennets and mares stood nearby, each awaiting their chance to mate.
Oh, to hear his excited brays, I told him often to calm himself. As wait, because I had some quarter horse mares coming soon, I then had to remind Hank to keep it sheathed; as remain focused. I thought it best of not telling him as to their owner wanted them bred to birthing of four mules!
Four mares might well take Hank mating each seven times over or more before he let peek his stout cock to slip past mare’s cervix,” said Missy.
“Huh, and I thought that my transforming of Jake to be a satyr was outrageous. As you with now Hank, how we both disliked him. I learning that you had him here and being a donkey; well I hoped he’d feel worse if his wealthy father, who could cause me trouble, were as well a donkey,” said Esmeralda.
As Missy smiled and urged her friend to get up and go again of them to entering the barn; Esmeralda asked, “So old man Brocker, he too did follow his nose to arrive here; as my potion worked on him and he became all a donkey, but of what color?”
“Let me finish about our Hank being humiliated. When he got upright again and stood looking at the others all watching him, he decided, and ran out of the barn. I stood at the barn door sash, watching a fool run to heck knows where. My thoughts then turned to tending with an upset and angry, as elderly jennet donkey, she previously being Hank’s belligerent father. Hours later and a weary as sweaty donkey Hank returned to the only safe place he knew.
Why and how, but your potion you used to change Mister Brocker, did you use a flick-hair from some currying brush?
I ask because of what he looks like is quite different from the usual body fur color of any donkey I ever saw. I have here an Albino white colored jennet donkey, she all white and pink her skin color. Thoroughly odd, is a lump on her forehead, as if I am wrong in my thinking, she shall grow an alicorn!
However, you might dislike the man; somehow, you unexpectedly did as gift him with magical powers equal to ours. He feels angry and humiliated, made worse from his stud donkey son having mated with him. I have the thought to trade him/her to far away from here, and sell Hank, he being a well-endowed stud.
I know a horse buyer, and he would accept Hank, as well our unknowing Unicorn donkey, she a weird combination. I won’t wait, but call him tomorrow, as rid ourselves of equal or worse plights when Beth Annie Unicorn donkey realizes her innate powers.”
“Okay, although I cannot think of what went wrong with my potion,” said a then worried Esmeralda. “Oh, when you ship Hank, put on him a Hemp rope halter, as hemp holds certain reversing properties, to cause his original spell/curse to fade,” suggested the elderly witch.
Come then the next afternoon, and a semi-truck with livestock trailer arrived at Missy Halstead’s stud farm. As Esmeralda had suggested, Missy exchanged halters on Hank; while not using the Hemp halter on Beth Annie.
Beth Annie raised a fuss when led toward the livestock trailer, she kicking and trying to bite. Hank thought little and had no worries, he hoping to go to some farm as a loaned stud. He became wide-eyed and aroused when entering the trailer, seeing there as already of four jennet donkeys as possible mates.
All the donkeys jumped from fright when Jeb Flycatcher slammed shut the trailer door.
Hank had learned to using his teeth and untie any rein rope holding him in place. As the semi-truck road the highway, a loose donkey stud went sniffing at donkey butts, he seeking a bold scent of a female in need of his servicing. He soon found one jennet as very welcoming, she raising her tail and spread her hind legs to bolster holding of his bulk weight when mounting. Hank rose up and with his twenty-two inch long cock at full flag, he nudged it daintily into the winking vulva.
Just as Hank began his thrusting, he stared at an unbelievable sight.
Seeing his forelegs becoming again as arms, and his hoofs splitting into digits, realizing they became once more his fingers. Sexually thrilled still, he strained to remain lodged with his cock and stand mounted. The magical aura emanating around Hank had the other donkeys stirring, they kept knocking him back down as he felt his own weight change to that of a human man.
Oh no, no, no, no…," groaned Hank Brocker as he sat there on his softer and hairy butt watching what he had so grown to loving, as just melt back to his old self.
The truck and its trailer were moving down the highway as Hank started to wonder how far from Missy’s farm they'd come. He had wondered thoughts of his car, if still parked on a very rural road; and what was even more horrible the magical Tome of Possibility, lay open across the seat. He worried if someone found and then stole his car, or worse the book itself stolen, maybe damaged, all this worked in his mind.
All night long the truck, trailer, and a small herd of donkeys rolled down the highway. It was early morning when the truck left the roadway and travelled to a ranch and farm. Hank was by then again as mostly human with the exception of ears, hair and skin, a tail; and what he liked best to fondle, as did often was his sheath and its general contents. Peering through the slats in the side of the trailer, he could only wait until when discovered.
The hissing sound of the truck’s air brakes told of the truck had stopped at a corral. As he peered out so did the others inside the truck as several bales of sweet hay stood alluring all to wanting, as charge off the trailer to have some eats. A decisive moment came while Hank stood there waiting for the rear door of the trailer to open and withstanding the donkeys aboard, their rush or not, he'd be found. Nervous and embarrassed for what he looked like then; and naked was recognizable too, he longed for to be an antonymic, common Jackass again, if even for the rest of his life!
If for him there some possible way there then as he stood looking the trailer over he wished for any mode of escape. The golden red light of sunrise suddenly provided him the view of a roof hatch, and of all things a ladder going up to it. He pushed and shoved his way toward the front of the long trailer verbally pleading with his lovers to give way.
Halfway up the ladder he was having trouble standing on his hind hoofs being that each ladder wrung as rounded. He thought that this thing would be hard to stand or climb on with human feet, but it seemed impossible to climb with hoofs.
A creaking sound and all inside the trailer were standing alert and ready to exit. Then the rear door fell open allowing those inside to stampede out into an opened corral. Several minutes later and the ranch owner was having an argument with the truck driver, as the count of his new animals was short by one. He was mostly angry since the one missing was the important Jack male for which he'd planned to use to start a herd.
Laid out on top of the trailer was Hank, he listening with obvious interest to the argument going on below. The sounds of donkey companions eating and making their loving sounds had him feeling aroused and gain an erection; but he wanted to get home even more than to stay and help make the herd grow.
The men below decided that the truck must have left the male donkey at the Halstead farm, and would return there. An angered man driving the big truck was heading up the highway traveling back to Missy Hallstead’s farm. Once it hit the highway and due to harsh winds, Hank climbed back down into the trailer as the ride up top was a bit too breezy.
The bright rays of Sun light poured through the slats of the truck's trailer, offering profound effects on Hank. He watched with interest as his human feet and toes returned to normal. The falling out of his hairy coat made him chilly in the breeze flying through the trailer, as a truck driver raced back to the farm.
It was sundown when the truck had returned to Missy’s farmhouse. As Hank stood then being naked, but returned to again looking human with one odd exception. Although he had his own human testicles and size scrotum, his donkey’s sheath and that monster penis remained as they had when he was all a donkey. He wondered why he kept it thinking that it might be due to his mating, it still coated by vaginal slime and his sperm encrusted and coated the lovely male organ.
Then with human feet and no slippery hoofs, he easily climbed the ladder to the trailer roof. When outside the trailer, Hank made use of the slats on the outside of the trailer, allowing him to climb down to solid earth. Still naked he ran and dodged from parked car to farm tractor, looking for anything he could use for clothing. He found in the backseat of one wrapped birthday present, and when ripped open, inside was a ladies’ pink robe. Try as he did it was all he could find and using it for some clothing, he ran across country to find his old car and maybe, hopefully the Tome.
Meanwhile back at his Studebaker car, an old wooden, it a 1949 made car sat a fellow named Jeff. He had been just out walking in the early morning and noticed the nice condition of such an antique car setting along-side the rural, gravel road, and parked off as into the tall grass and bushes, he thought to have a look.
Peering inside the interior was something to behold. The seats made of thick vinyl and scotch patterned cloth along with a dashboard having lots of chrome and paint made this car very special.
"Mint condition and standing by itself on an old private road, why?" thought Jeff.
Walking around the car he saw nothing of nobody expecting to see a body or something for a reason why this antique was left to the elements. Then he saw the old big book laid out open and filling the front seat.
Jeff tried opening the car door, and was astounded to discover the car as unlocked, that he leaned inside and picked up the book, taking care not to injure it in any way. Reading then it, Jeff sat down on the rear chrome bumper, and began to look at the old book. It took only a first quick looks to see as tell it as something to do with witchcraft and the workings of magic.
The more he paged through it he saw spells which wheeled great power. If power it had he was one who had a wish similar to that what Hank had used, but in a differing sort of way. Having kept his finger marking the place the book was left open he returned to that page and read the spell to himself. Seeing the penciled in markings, Jeff thought and laughed wishing down deep to try it and hope it really would work.
Chuckling aloud he placed the big book down on the grass and thinking for a split second he then started to read the spell aloud.
"A wish and dream of__Jeff Miller___ to become,
as by the power of this book for all to see, being as
by night and day for________a week_______________, unless
by chance that should from mating once, to twice, or thrice grants
an additional week, or month, or year,
unless breeding of a herd adds in time.
The one who asks and be blessed to know, feel, as sublime,
the form, body, shape, and lifestyle of becoming physically a__Male Stud Jackass Donkey__."
No sooner said than Jeff looked up into the sky wishing to his longing heart he was a sex driven Jack donkey. It might have been as he looked into the sun but whatever, he fell backward to then laying flat out and went sound asleep.
"What," thought Jeff as he awoke from his life and form transforming short nap?
As he tried at sitting up, he could not and rolling to one side tried again to try and push himself upright. "What the H..............!" he muttered to himself. Looking down his hands were covered if not coated in a light brownish hair. It covered his hands, up his arms, as he stopped and then looked back at the big book.
"No I'm dreaming this all," he muttered again.
A push up from his foot sent him rolling ass over apple cart across the grass. He shook his head feeling something battering his skull like a couple of soft balloons. Furry hands reached up and touched, felt, and jumped away from two tall long furry ears, his ears!
"No, no I was just joking," he tried to say but his try at speaking of actual words became a jumble of sounds being wrong. Next, he slowly stood up but doing so, he looked at his feet and gasped. His shoes were not far away but there was no way he could put them back-on, as his feet were very much longer and also furry. Fumbling and almost struggling, he began to strip off his golf shirt and the sweat pants he was wearing for his daily time of exercise. A tug to his undershorts, and they ripped so he stood undressed but realizing of soon no longer in need of clothing.
Turning his head as this way and that, Jeff sized up what had and was still happening to him. He lifted his feet up and checked out legs then bulging with powerful strong muscles. His arms too were much stronger as under the thick fur he felt stout muscle. He danced in a circle looking at his new self, thinking and remembering the movie “The Brass Bottle, and of a Genie.
Indeed if there ever was such a Genie creature, Jeff having asked to be a donkey, he was well along the way to becoming his fun fantasy thrill.
Fates had changed due to magic, as a Jennet Unicorn began learning her situation was more fun than she had when being an elderly man with a fool son. Then there was Hank returning to finding his antique car, the Tome ledger, and some strewn clothing left by a Jeff Miller, according to his wallet.
Jeff Miller used his new as heightened sense of smell to seeking of other equines, that he met then Missy Halstead.
As then...