Another story with a moral. Nice and simple this one,
nothing too complicated this time around. :)
Vengeance is Sweet By Wolphin Brian snuck quietly into the barn. It was too early for anyone else to be up, but he was not going to take any chances. Inside was warm, animal scents heavy in the air as the various beasts shuffled in their stalls, their early morning routine broken by the intruder. Most mornings Brian would be tucked up snugly in his bed at this hour, but today was different, he was motivated by revenge. One of the lads, Ben, had been bullying him constantly for the past month. Brian normally could ignore it, but something within snapped when it started getting personal. Ben just laughed when Brian asked him to settle it like men, then sucker punched him. As Brian lay on the ground moaning in pain, a plan began to form in his mind. His family had a small amount of magical ability, not much, but he knew there were some books tucked away in the attic. One night he dug them out and leafed through them. It did not take him long to find a suitable spell. That was the reason he was in the barn late at night. He had cobbled together most of the ingredients, but was still missing one. He was concocting a transmutation spell. He had plans for Ben to become the ass he really was, but he still needed the hair of an ass to pull it off. He knew there was at least one donkey in the stables, but was unsure of where. He snuck along the wall quietly, looking into each stall. The first few were occupied by the large draft horses used on the farm, they looked at him quietly in the dim light. The fifth stall he came to had a donkey in it. It backed away from him as he tried to reach over the railing, braying softly in his direction. Cursing, Brian looked around. He had heard the stories about donkeys and their kick and was not going to enter if he could help it. Hung up between the stalls was a coarse brush. Grinning, Brian pulled it off the hook and peered at it. Predictably a few long strands were twined around the bristles. Teasing one off, he examined it and looked at the donkey. White tuff on tail, white bristle, must be from the donkey. Smiling at his brilliance, Brian pulled out his stoppered vial and shoved the long strand into it. The mixture at the bottom fizzed a little, then changed from a dark green to clear. Brian chuckled to himself. This was too easy. Next step was to find Ben. The most logical place would be the bunks above the hayloft, two buildings over. Brian tucked the vial back into his shirt pocket and began sneaking towards the door to the tack room. He was about halfway there when his foot hit something solid. He swore, stumbled and crashed down onto the cobbles. There was a soft tinkling and he groaned, rubbing at his jarred hands. He muttered and, picked himself up, kicking the hay bale. He had only taken a few steps when his chest started to itch. He paused, rubbing at it, his fingers feeling dampness as they came away. Realisation dawning, his hand flew to his pocket, the broken glass crunching as he brushed over it. He gave a groan and started to rip off his shirt. The spell was vague on the exact details of what and how it would happen, only that the person who it was cast on would become like the animal the sample was from. The spell lasted for one day, unless the person was happy in that form. Brian did not know what that meant, but he was sure he would not make a happy beast. His shirt fell to the floor and he looked down at his exposed chest in the pre dawn glow. It appeared to be covered by an increasingly thick mass of white hairs. That was strange, the donkey was grey. He looked up the line of the stalls, half a dozen equine heads looked back, one large and pale. He groaned. He must have got the wrong hair, one from one of the horses, not the donkey. Brian yelped as he felt his waist begin to swell, cutting into his belt and fumbled with the buckle, his fingers stiff and beginning to fuse into a solid mass. He felt his trousers rip, his backside swelling out as he fell forward, unable to keep his increasingly heavy chest balanced on two legs. He felt his shaft begin to grow, extending into a large sheath as his balls swelled, nestling between his legs and he felt a reasonable amount of pride as what he guessed his size must be. By now his feet and hands had shifted into hooves, his legs and arms thinning to match as his torso barrelled out. He watched his nose beginning to extend, feeling his teeth changed as his mouth pushed out into a muzzle. He was surprised to hear himself whinny, his nostrils flaring as they sampled the scents of the barn. His head growing increasingly heavy and it seemed natural as it lowered, his neck lengthening as a mane extended from between his pointed ears down towards his distant shoulders. His tail flicked over his backside and he looked around, his eyesight seemingly obscured as the sunlight began streaming through the cracks in the walls. Taking a few experimental steps, he moved around the barn, a little shocked as he found himself eating mouthfuls of dry oats from the open bag, but it did taste very nice. He worked his way along the stalls, whickering softly at his fellow equines, who all seemed to nod back, sharing his breath. He recognised their scents, his mind identifying them and somehow filing them all away. He realised he had become one of the draft horses, very large and muscular. He felt somehow pleased at the power he contained within. There was one scent missing. His equine mind identified it, but there was no beast to match. He was mulling it over when the door opened. He turned to face the person who entered, half afraid it would be Ben, but it was not. He had been wondering what the reaction would be, but it was surprisingly calm. "Well, well, well," said the voice, Brian knew he had heard it before, but the human named seemed to have slipped his mind. "Now where did you come from?" The figure slowly came into focus as it stepped nearer. Brian became aware of a hand reaching out, something green and nice smelling on its palm. He leant forward, snuffling at it, his large lips closing around the apple and munching it up, the taste delicious. He was enjoying it so much, he barely noticed the halter being slipped over his head. "Let me just tend to the others, then we'll have a good look at you..." said the voice, moving off in the distance. Brian went to follow, but found his head jerked back by the halter. He tugged at it once or twice, then stood still watching the man move around the barn. It was a good half hour before the man returned to him. "Yes..." said the man from off at one side. "I have no idea where you came from, perhaps someone arrived in the night, but I'm sure they wouldn't mind if we made use of your... services." As he spoke, the man had approached, slipping a feed bag over Brian's head. At first Brian resisted, but then he caught the smell of the oats and what turned out to be molasses and submitted with surprising ease, the more powerful equine mind winning out over the dulled human senses. As he munched his oats, he could feel the man moving around, cold hands prodding at his muscles. He whickered a little as he felt fingers probing under his tail, then cupping his large testicles, giving his sheath a good pat. "Yes..." said the man. "I'll just go and get things ready..." With that, the man disappeared, leaving Brian to finished his breakfast in the barn with the other animals. He returned a while later, grinning a little. He stroked at Brian's neck, causing him to whicker softly. "I'll think you'll enjoy this," announced the man, removing the now empty feedback from Brian's muzzle. With the bag removed, Brian found himself able to smell once more, the first thing to hit his nostrils was a strange enticing scent from the man himself. He whickered, pressing himself into the stroking hands, trying to get closer to the scent. His brain matching up the new scent with the one he could not place earlier. "All in good time..." chuckled the man quietly. "Come, I'll introduce you two." The man lead Brian outside and into a small yard. In the centre was another horse, Brian finding himself trying to leap forward to meet it. The man yanked on the halter, pulling his head back before paying out more rope, slowing Brian's approach. The other horse whickered softly, but otherwise did not move. Brian found himself drawn to it, his mind identifying the horse as a mare and the source of the scent. Brian stepped forward cautiously, nuzzling at the neck of the female, then working his way along her back. The mare did not protest, her tail flicking up as his lips approached. He pulled back his lips, whickering softly as the mare gave a soft whinny, a small spurt of urine striking his muzzle. Brian felt his large sheath suddenly drop and begin to swell as his shaft began to unfurl. Somewhere within the horse, Brian screamed "No!", but was unable to stop the stallion, mounting the mare. The first few thrusts were clumsy. Both parties eager, but then the stallion's shaft found the right spot and slid home. The mare grunting as he gripped her with his forelegs, grinding his hips against hers, trying to delve deeper into her, as her walls massaged and stroked his length. The sensations were all too much for the stallion who gave a whinny and collapsed on the mare's back, his tail flagging as his huge balls surrendered their load into her waiting body. For a few moments, they remained together, then the man lead the mare away, the stallion dropping to all fours as she walked out from under him. The stallion panted, recovering and feeling very satisfied. Vague, distant memories seemed to fade into the background as the man whistled. The stallion trotted over, not understanding the words of the man, but enjoying the apple that was presented to him, feeling very happy with all the attention. From that point on around the farm there was mystery over that night. The night that young Brian had disappeared and the night the huge draft stallion had appeared. Strangely, aside from the local gossip, no one seemed to mind that much.