A somewhat thankful feeling Hank soon sat again in his antique car, he wearing the not as properly fitting clothes left there by a foolishly young Jeff Miller. As he remembered, the car’s keys were still in the dashboard ashtray; and the car motor started with ease. Feeling elated that he was mostly back to being his normal self, Hank then felt his donkey sheath beginning to stir.
Hank had become complacent about his donkey sheath stirring alive then his gaining an erection. As it happened, the rising and expending male organ began to press upward, sliding past the pants waistband, and out into the light of that glorious day. Human hands having retuned were there to touch, feeling and caress the soft/tender as sensual skin of an equine cock.
Held in a few fun remembered minutes of donkey passion, Hank allowed his personal elation to arouse even his scrotum to react from a sense of glee. As pre-cum began too ooze from out the distal end of his cock; Hank knew what would come next unless he calmed his passionate feelings. Try as he did by inhaling ten deep breaths and exhaling quickly each time failed to work as it had during past, as similar arousing situations.
“Ah, oh, oh, Hank, calm, as quell these feelings of wondrous elation…,” Hank muttered to himself, but to no avail. His groin was boiling with a surge; the only thing he thought to curb the coming mess was to lean his head forward as down and cap the end of his cock inside his mouth. He had not the ability when a donkey to taste his spunk, but what ejected from his still a donkey cock came as a mixed blend of equine and human semen.
The active surges were like what Hank recalled from his past three months of being a donkey. He sat there and counted four rather harsh surging ropes of pudding consistency semen; that to his tongue tasted oddly as a fishy odor flavor. The rank as tart taste recoiled his sadder memories of when a donkey. The need to swallow of what bulged his cheeks that entered his mouth, tended to sour his stomach. Coughing ensued, as did then burping, as that tart smell and flavor of his mostly equine spunk kept Hank wishing he had just opened his car door, and let go what came go out into the weeds and grasses.
Memories of when he lived his life being human had him recall what he kept in the dashboard glove-box. He reaching past his stout erection, and Hank popped open the glove-box door to find there two candy bars and a tin can full of 7-up. Quickly he retrieved the can of soda pop to help clean his mouth and throat, while refreshing his ability to breathing clean air. A Milky-way candy bar came next, as the smooth chocolate flavor aided his delight to regaining being human.
Finally, Hank felt he could relax, he and his softening erection could begin coping with everyday life.
A turning of his steering wheel and the old Studebaker “Woody” station wagon vehicle began moving, leaving the patch of weeds it had set in while its owner, played at experiencing being a stud, male donkey animal.
“Ah driving, as good to be on the roads again,” Hank mumbled.
He was free from living day-to-day being an animal, although as a donkey he did, as rather enjoy that manner of lifestyle. Rising early, served a proper breakfast, allowed his freedom, whether in a corral or pastured, when felt an urge his tail rose up and either dank yellow urine streamed out his cock; or large lump perked out to form a heap of his personal stench.
“Ah those were happy days…, but what then of father?”
Hank set reminded of his having escaped that livestock trailer, that his cursed father, stood tied by rope rein with halter in place. He being as of then a female; became by Esmeralda’s handiwork a jennet, Albino donkey. Hank smiled briefly when reminded of him having mounted his transformed dad, and enjoyably bred him/her to see his father feeling humbled. Hank felt a cold shiver trace along his spine and expand to engulfing his scrotum and sheath.
“Four stout ropes of my ejaculated semen poured into dad’s cunt. Dad’s cunt, his father being then a female animal, a jennet donkey; and stood for me acting quite horny, feeling equine style estrus. Oh dad, as how you must have suffered, no, he as she submitted, head hung low, tail high to the right, accepted of what he had become!
Oops, a stop sign, and a state highway, ah now think, it’s been three months time and much of what was I have forgotten. Ah left, turn left, head north toward what was home. Watch for passing traffic, careful Hank, don’t want an accident, or the police asking questions.”
Alone, free and not hampered by fences, Hank continued his driving. After an hour of continued driving, Hank thought he smelled the scent of horses. He slowed his vehicle speed and began looking to either side of his car. The scent was equine but different, slightly so than what he knew as of donkey, a draft, Fell breed, pony mare; or who was his first he bred?
He came to a side street, it also a paved road, and there he saw a road sign, Pale Valley Ranch, breeders of Shetland, Dartmoor, and Exmoor ponies.
Hank stopped driving and swung his car to the shoulder of the road. He just sat there staring, reading the name of the three breeds of ponies bred and stabled at that farm. “No, why am I drawn to such as this; after three months off magically being a donkey, why would ponies be appealing to me personally?
What do I want here, is it a sense of safety, or a belonging, want for companionship, or harsh sex; the lifestyle pleads at me because of feeling comfortable, no responsibilities, no deadlines, just living the moment, no future planning.
As Hank sat there thinking, he began to hear a faint sounding voice as beckoning, calling his name. He began to listen, turning his head to see where the voice originated. Then he looked into the rear seat where Jeff Miller had sat reading the Tome; and from it he cursed his body to become a donkey duplicate of what Hank looked like for three fun months.
Hank reached to grab at and pick up the Tome. When he touched it, the voice calling became louder, and much easier to understand.
“Here me, Master of the Tome, it is I, the familiar speaking to you. Speak as to our meeting, look at page 3, paragraph 6, and read aloud the invitation for my appearance.”
Hank quickly flipped through the Tome pages to page 3, as he able to speed read, did shift his full attention to paragraph six. "Open a portal, an invitation as vitality does commence. Forever, as begin now that you are as one cursed, but gains the acquaintance and knowledge from a devil-familiar. A donkey animal form you choose, as remained but for three months time. You need to choose again, is the real you a donkey at stud, or a human capable to control the powers held by the Tome?”
Suddenly, the voice ceased speaking, there was a question posed about a choice style of his existence.
Hank thought for a long minute, he giving personal contemplating to what he should prefer. “It is true; my choice to become a male stud donkey was and is, my greatest fun fantasy. The Tome too holds equal consideration because the knowledge within allures me; beckoning to offer new and different situations bearing wondrous sensations.
I do believe the Tome knowledge is my best choice; so to the Tome familiar, invite and welcome to standing at my side!”