Inside your changed head sets a brain with still enough ability, you think of how this was just a lark turned into some new reality.
It seems so tragic and yet oddly funny, you would laugh aloud, but the ability to want for laughing seems to have faded from your mind.
Sensations flood into your brain, and closing the eyes tends you to think and take each new sensation under full scrutiny, considering both pro and the cons of it all.
Standing on four legs, having hoofs soundly placed against the store floor, you feel your anxiety react with flicking of a then hairy tail, you tail, it feels so nice!
Nice feelings, the sensation of bulk and strength seems to pulse in your body. Thinking about what happened to your maleness, the thought prevails long enough to bring on a slowly mounting erection. The first tingle comes when the flaring cock tip pressed out of the sheath.
The raw bestial desires begin to build in you mind, thoughts and sensations blend to build your horse cock into something so massive the sheer weight of it hung and the swaying, it starts your body to sweat.
Passion and desire merge, the sniffing of the surrounding air offers not the sweet scent of any mare in need, but you are in need! Being aroused, the male equine organ standing stiff and stout, the end of it flared so large that you think the thing might soon burst.
Want meets the necessity for a release less you might injure your internal part.
New muscles support and ream about your extended maleness, the ability to make it lift up high; high enough to bump the furry round belly you sport being then as a horse.
The doing is a sensation unto all else. You cannot begin to believe the raw and wild lust that pulsates from the way your longer penis can rise up, touching the tummy, and then letting it relax, the massive organ swings down, bringing on more lust to do it all over again, and again, and again.
This sensation is all too much for your mind to grasp and bear, the building anxiety seems to swoon in your larger testicles. The pressure builds, the realization of a surge is then the delight of the moment.
You want to live for these precious times, times when what it is to be male and equine become the epedemy of being a stallion, a stud, and able to breed.
A screaming whinny announced to all that you had reached an impassable climax; the rush boils down the length of that stout rod, it spews out of you like water from a fire hose. Hot liquid, a near flood of semen roars out the opening to your big male member.
Suddenly it is over, the passion for this moment fades, and with it goes some of that stored knowledge and intellect granted to humans and not normally meant for animals and or equines.
The smell is a stench even unto your new and larger, more sensitive nostrils. Globs of gunk stick to your forelegs, what went with the semen as called cum drips from legs and is splattered about the store floor in small pools and puddles.
You open your eyes and break the mental connection to your own new desire to mate or as was, masturbate.
A hand slap to the side of your then smoothly muscular equine neck is an alert the store owner is standing close, he clips a rein to the halter you foolishly donned, and will lead you to your new world, and equine world, you being a fine form of a excellent looking stud.