Roscoe watched his human body stroll down the isle between the box stalls and out into his human exsistance. John was now feeling the strange senses of being a equine bastard. Roscoe's body was a twisted mix of a draft horse and a jenny ass.
A 12 hand high male draft ass was a monster of muscle and shaggy hair. Less than neat in appearance Roscoe was the rough mascot of a leatherneck football team. John stood looking over his newest form, still now able to realise that without the silver buckle's power he was now and must remain Roscoe.
The big footed sound of Frank was coming down the isle toward Roscoe. "We're ready for ya' now big fell'a, got 27 rouge mares in the lower pasture. You should do very well, most seem to be or coming into heat." Frank always talked softly to the horses under his management. It was his kind and soft voice the animals became attached to, and listened to when things were on right.
Roscoe had some trouble walking his 1550 pound draft animal body along the cobble stones of the stable paddock. Down the lane a good quarter mile Frank walked beside the big Ass. Frank talked the whole way as Roscoe made no noise at all.
Frank opened the gate to a small pasture of 110 rods long by 60 rods wide. Roscoe looked out into his grassy domain. The 27 mares stood in groups looking back at their soon to be mate. "There they are Roscoe just as tough a bunch of females as you are a male Ass." Roscoe turned his great furry head and gave a quick lick to Frank's left cheek. As Frank jumped from the sudden touch, Roscoe gave an enormus horse laugh and licked Frank again.
Frank stood back as he closed the gate to the pasture. A strange action for such a rouge animal as Roscoe. Frank stood at the gate as Roscoe pranced out like a fine steed to meet his harem.