Published: Nov 14th, 2015


Three buddies go to a beer festival and get more than drunk...


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JERK - JOKING - FRIENDS 2011 TRANSFORMATION MEN -TO - VARIOUS ANIMALS AND Death Feeling nervous and foolish a little, I went looking for a white-elephant joke of a birthday present for a friend, a fraternity brother as it were. Having asked others as were best to go looking for a kinky present, the suggestion suggested most was for venturing a look around New Holland. New Holland is like venturing into somewhere foreign, a bit of old times far European architecture and the customs of those there who had relocated in our country, state and city. I began the trek to find something different and neat to give buddy Benjamin, and had shopped looking in several stores before I spied the Van Rekey Apothecary. Stepping down two steps I walked into the store, it is very dim and rather foreboding. The rustic wooden shelving stood from floor to ceiling, and on most of the shelves set in rows were green glass mason canning jars, all filled with homespun some sort of sordid remedies. Looking at the shop wares, some of the jars had labels on the side of the jar and others had a small booklet glued to the bottom of the jar. This was not at all what I was expecting to use on Ben, I did not want to make him sick or injure him, just make his birthday day as a joke to laugh about. This little out of the way shop was in one of those steamy alleyways, sandwiched between bigger buildings of more importance and or integrity. If you go looking in New Holland, it is a fact that often a person can find what to us in our culture is rather weird. An aphrodisiac of some sort was one thing I had thought to get Ben, and seeing or having found this near alien style of drug store meant I was in the right place for things like that! Walking in and beginning to look at the host of jars and remedies for all sorts of ailment and or infirmities, I was intent up looking when from out of nowhere he stood there with eyes squinting at me. Undecided suddenly, I turned round to walk out the store and go elsewhere, when from out of nowhere a young man like myself stood and said, "You see anything? I can sell it at half price because of this being a grand opening sale!" It would be bad manners to just shrug at him and without so much as an answer to reply to his offering a product of his and at a deal of a price. A bit befuddled, I said then, "Uh, what is this stuff, if used on someone what does it do... is it then temporary or permanent? I was looking for something really different, maybe even horny of sorts, a birthday gift to a friend who never in his twenty plus years has slept with a woman." The thought of where and of what I was looking at made me cast a doubtful eye across the many shelves. Likely he had heard such a question before and for varied reasons, but he acted as if not embarrassed by me asking for, or making mentioned a sex based product. The need was there and after much looking the time had become critical, it would be a rush to get from downtown to back to the college campus and then too to the Frat house and where to put such a gift? "Anything we have can have an additive and become highly sexual," the blonde haired man, he replied as he smiles. "Just look around, take your time, read the labels and pick whatever seems right, remember, it is all at half price, a very reasonable time to buy." Undecided I sighed! As aggressive as can be, and never much good at saying a turn down to a deal, I pointed to a remedy in a section so marked as aphrodisiacs. "This one, how much is this?" I asked, blurting out the question that showed my lack of being bold and mature of my thinking. "For you, today, five dollars," was his quick reply, maybe too quick a reply, it worried me then a little. "Great!" I said and began to pull out the money, and asking then too, "Exactly, what does it do for him, my friend?" But you aren't paying much attention. You're late. "Look here, let me translate the label. It says here to be wise and aware, when using and if one were to touch or be touched by another not of you kind. This remedy can be applied upon human skin, the remedy arouses a need. If ingested, the sense of need becomes insatiable for a time. Aroused and voracious becomes the desire for gain of a deep as dire empathy with another, mattering not whether of gender of species, if you understand what is meant by species? As it reads here the ingestion by mouth invokes such an empathic response, the mere touching of another can bring on gain, admiration, and enjoyment of personal extremes." That said, the money given him and hearing him say a few more cherished words of oriental wisdom and I with jar in hands did rush out the shop door, running all the way back to where I parked my car. The drive back to the frat house was one panic after another, my eyes venturing to gaze down at the jar and what it contained. Half an hour later I was in my shared room and having some wicked thoughts as where to put or how to best wrap the present. Then it came to mind a query problem, as once given the present how would I get Ben to use it? My looking at the jar and what it contained, being a dire sort of aphrodisiac, a remedy, or potion of sorts. Ben might not use or take the liquid willingly. Then too he might drop or break the bottle, making my prank just a forlorn foolish purchase. I look around for something to hide it, or use it to coat its properties on a chair or maybe soak his favorite shirt. Mixing it then was a thought, but what and of where, and then too making him drink it was the more intense of the reaction the stuff could do to a person. To use a beer can, his bottle of hair gel, "No, to put it into his mouthwash, yes perfect, he would use that stuff three times a day!" Delighted with the obvious and perfect place to hide the remedy potion I did pour the liquid from green glass jar into the plastic mouthwash bottle. Luckily for me then the remedy was a clear liquid, if a bit oily, but it mixed neatly with the aqua colored mouthwash. The deed done and the prank set like a lurid trap. When hearing of Ben coming into the house I became nervous as in shaky and a small dribble of the remedy drip and trickled over my fingers. I felt it touch, burn like mild acid, it either soaked into me or dried on my skin in just seconds. "Oh what the hell," I thought so little of it then, thinking as of Ben and him I wanted to drink the potion, to gain its all, the fullness required he to swallow some for the magic of it to work. As what dripped and touched on me, that I would wash off soon, or so I thought. I was about to throw the jar into a waste basket when on the bottom I took note as of a small yellow sticker. Reading it, printed in small lettering, "Sell by 10-30-___" it was a due date but the last numbers were erased, the jar of remedy might well be beyond its time when the stuff was weaker or stronger than its proper potency. I still was in wonderment as of what the stuff will really do? The jar falls into the basket as Ben with two friends came nosily along the hallway toward the bedrooms and bathroom. Accordingly as what Ben was ranting about to all in earshot, was of his plans for two friends to accompany him on a night out on the town. The local Polish Beer festival was their objective for fun. Ben pushed past and went into the shared bathroom, he with another roommate Kevin. They did each their whizzing. Then that regular sound came from Ben. He in his time honored manner stood by the sink and gargling. He and his precious mouthwash, that done and we would hear the usual forced dumb burp to follow. As he came out to get a fresh shirt for his night out, Stan and Kevin both took their turns at the sink washing hands and to my horror and wonderment, they made personal use of that same remedy tainted mouthwash. Standing idly by as Ben and two other fraternity brothers walk out to meet some strange and likely sexual folly, I said, "Hey Ben, you mind if I tag along?" I asked with the intent on being there when what was to happen with Ben, that I had thought would make for a good chuckle. Worse and or not in my plans was what might happen to the two others there, Stan and Kevin, they were tainted then too. What was a birthday prank was expanding into becoming something far drastic but still the more a bigger thrill. Ben turns to the others and quickly they agree as we are likened to the four musketeers. We march out the front door, getting in Ben's car, and off we go to the festival. The sense of foreboding horror had fled from me as we rode along. I had difficulty holding a straight face, as I was chuckling inside. Filled with thoughts of devilment, as now three were successfully tainted with what the shop clerk said was an empathic aphrodisiac. Down deep, I wished the remedy would do its deed working more like a magical potion then as a remedy to make them all horny. The drive to downtown is shortened by the closing off of the main streets for the festival. Ben parks his car where the policeman directs, and the four Musketeers bail out like a barrel of laughing monkeys from the car. The night began with four fine, fun friends feeling jolly together at the Polish Festival. Free beers, dancing, and a few lovely, willing, dollies likely there to return with them to their domicile for more of a arousing as wild night. Together walking through the ever denser crowds the four change positions and walk then two by two. Things began to happen when Stan took note of someone he knew was managing as handling, two horse drawn dray beer keg wagon. Stan yelled to his friend, "Hey Tommy!" He looked rather intense about the face. Tommy was having troubles maneuvering the two massive Jutland draft horses through the crowds, trying not the trampling of any toes of the many festival beer lovers. Friendly Stan offered to help hold the horses in place as the wagon had reached its goal then for the unloading ceremony. He had seen it done before that someone would stand facing the two horses and holding them by their halters would keep them steady, as meanwhile the kegs were lifted off the wagon by a crane. I stood by and was watching the ceremony, saw Stand as he was holding the big horses by their halters, a hairy cheek of one lusty draft horse mare did happen to make the needed touch, and Stan giving her face an added loving stroking. I watching saw the facial expression of Stan turn to a blank stare. He stood and seemed as mesmerized, looking up into the face of the large horse. Hosts of strange sensations invaded the mind of Stan. He became as empathic, feeling drawn to be near and gaining a sense of identity with the horse. His nose twitched, as if he could scent and sense the thoughts of the mare. The horse cocking her head looked Stan in the eyes, a bonding began. She and her new friend felt the same fears, likes, and wishes, wanting to be back in the barn, they in her stall. Unbelievably, I watched, seeing how Stan and his dress slack did tent up in the front, as he gained a realization from the mare, as he would begin thinking of her as more than a pet friend. The unloading finished and a sick looking Stan walked along next to the horse drawn wagon, he returning with them back to the brewery where Tom gave the care of the horses to a stable groomsman. The others oddly ignored Stan, he being out of place or maybe they thought he had gotten drunk. He looked as one sick, coughing, his stomach upset for some reason he did puke three times when the dray needed to halt for groups of passing pedestrians. I was not far away, all the time watching him. As Stan stumbled along, he went as well with the horses into the stables. Once inside, he walked slowly along the aisle between the horses stalls, past the ponies used for giving rides to children, he stopped and sniffed the air before entering a stall. Staggering, Stan went into the box stall and once there he fell, falling face down into the thoroughly soiled straw bedding. Meanwhile the other of our band enjoyed the festive times and likely thought that Stan and I had wandered away to find some amusement of sorts. I was there watching, seeing that Stan was feeling different than as something enjoyable. He lay passed out, motionless as if in near lifeless black void, his body, mind and soul were as if polluted, the remedy and a touch of that Jutland mare were mixing to take a toll. As he lay there passed out cold, it was easy to see how he of his body was changing. His feet were lengthening, his shoes popping off the expanding heels. His legs contoured differently, thighs gaining muscle mass to the point they tore the seams of his slacks. His thighs and legs became as those of hunched hind like legs to a colt horse. Fascinated, I watched, chuckling with some devilish sort of glee, seeing how what walked into the stable being Stan the man. He was then taking on the form of being soon like a Jutland breed colt. The sight of one sock and then soon both pulled were off from what his feet. What were his toes had become as hoofs. Stan groaning as he slept, his legs moved, drawn closer to his body helped to slip off the socks and offer a view as to his changed feet and hoofs. A shuddering shiver rolled Stan over; he turned face up as his belt buckle popped into the air. Those dress slacks splitting wide open as his abdominal girth swelled. He laid there still out cold but feeling some of the sensations. An occasional deeply inhaled breath had him getting horny, gaining a renewed erection. Animalistic want for sexual pleasures began enticing him to forget his humanity and accept then what was becoming the new him. A shuddering of his whole body and the legs shifting did the rest of removing torn slacks. With nothing holding it down, the erection protruding from Stan did so differently than it would for any a male human. I stared with some sense of jealousy and lust, seeing that Stan had an equine sheath; and his penis that then as of a colt draft horse. Every fellow I ever met wished and wanted for more of a cock than they were granted. Ripped to shreds and completely torn away, the tented jockey shorts gone, there was nothing to impede that more massive maleness from its straining to stand rigid. What a pecker, I saw it, but was astonished, knowing he had a well endowed pink penis, what came out was flat ending, black, and lengthening to something so long when it was erect it bumped at his chin. He continued to change but in a calm and orderly progression. His clothing ripped away as the torso lengthened, swelling and rib cage increased to something equine sizable. Stan moaned as if he were dreaming, I suspected he was living the thoughts of him being a colt horse. Stan was a line backer for the football team in high school and as well in college days. He weighed about 225 lbs. when standing on the gym scale and butt naked. His being of such weight and according to having touched the mare several times, made it an easier task for the remedy to do its dues. A muddled scream that became a shrill whinny, came from Stan. His face and mouth changing, his neck lengthening too, a mane sprouted so quickly. During the rush of many changes, what were arms became as well fore legs and hoofed. The metamorphosis was complete, the remedy being much strong for being past its expired date, and Stan awoke. I expected Stan to revolt at finding he was not his human self but stood there on all fours as a draft horse colt. His shrill whinny was replied by the harsh whinny of she who had touched him. She the mare and Stan were as mother to her colt. When the stable groomsman had removed all the sweaty harness straps, the mare turned round and plodded to her stall, there reunited with her colt, she let Stan nuzzle and take sustenance, he a Jutland colt, and young enough to still need for weaning. Stan lip nibbled at her teats. He suckling of her milk made a bonding between them and much more, it began nourishing him in his growing body. What should have lasted for but a full day of time was as changed, and became for Stan as his preferred way of enjoying life. As I would learn in later days and weeks, time passed as Stan, obviously excited about his new self, did wean and being near she who tended to his needs, became willing to being a colt horse. He had numerous arousals and liked to try playing with his long cock; in times to come it was hard and with his testicles dropping in place he would masturbate. The potion and hormones of mare milk blended, making Stan forget his human self. He found great delight striding his walk all around the farm pasture, while he found it a thrill with his horse sized pecker hung and whipping about while in a flaccid state of an erection. Maybe it was the weaning that reminded him of past fun, but Stan would like to suck nipples when with a special girl who liked to get her nipples sucked. His horny horse self found the nursing on a teat as something extra sensual. Likely too, whenever seeing him I pondered as of the way he walked everywhere and let his erection waggle and flagging side to side. He might have enough of the thrill daily to keep enthused and allow his continued growing and until he grew to where he joined the stable as a yearling colt. The remedy was as magic surrounding Stan, he having changed more than his body, it rearranged history, all became as if he was bred with the plan in time for him to be the prime Jutland stud. I had to leave Stan where he was, seemingly thrilled at sucking the tit nipples of the mare. I returned to find the others, wondering as what might happen to them, did yell to Kevin, "Hello Kevy," Kevin hated hearing his name abbreviated like that. This time we heard someone else say the same at that very moment. As it was Angela who so often tried his patience, she a tall and well built, shapely college graduate who came toward him. She stepping through the crowd, coming to meet Kevin, said to us all there that she wanted to give her puppy some exercise. We did not notice immediately she was walking a dog, but thought she was speaking figuratively about her giving Kevin some more sensual exercise of sorts. "Kevy, I am all alone for supper tonight, would you like to come with me and my pet Suzie here, you join us for supper, and I rented a movie for us to watch, interested?" asked Angela, she with her pet Suzie, a rather hefty sized Rottweiler dog. To be quite truthful, we all noted how she tossed the offer, eying each of us there as if asking for more than one of us to come along? She felt assured that she was woman enough for one, as well two, or three for the night. Kevin bid us a quick farewell, he walking beside Angela, as well had he known it was his turn to go to his doom. Angela and Kevin walked with her pet Suzie along the sidewalks, across the bridge over the cesspool of a river that slurped its way through the town. The three arriving at what Angela called home, her Japanese styled bungalow set behind the Francisco-Sumner Funeral home. Angela worked there for her father, she having her degree as an embalmer, knew the human body from both inside and out. It was after that night when I learned from a conversation with Angela as what all happened. We talked and Angela told how when she went searching to find her house key in a purse made of woven straw and close to the size of a small suitcase, she handed the leash holding Suzie to Kevin. Suzie knew not Kevin too well, she wishing to become friendlier, reared up and stood upright fawning on him, her forepaws hung over his shoulders. The dog being tall and hefty as a highly muscular dog, she licked Kevin; and made for the remedy its needed touch to doom. Almost immediately, Kevin began to pay more attention to the dog than Angela would wish he did toward her. She remarked that when and after entering the bungalow what she called home; she saw Kevin poking his finger into Suzie. This sexual play did stir and aroused the big doggy to stand with her rump pointed toward Kevin as if she were willing or asking her other to mate. Having their dinner they paused conversing when Angela walked into the kitchen for something and returned to find Kevin on all fours. She laughed at seeing her stud for the night using his nose for sniffing the rump of Suzie. Angela liked all types of men, the kinkier the better and that she would readily admit. As much Kevin began finger playing with the big doggy, she wished he would start some hands on playing with her. The video movie never came out of its sleeve, as Angela let Kevin go all the way and soothed Suzie. His bestial deed done and she with some difficulty coaxed her hot male into a bedroom, it purposely arranged for making love. She remembered that in the dim light of the bedroom, her seeing Kevin when he began to assaulting her, he seemed to have a darkly tanned color to his body. Kevin was gruff when he did his thrusting, so much that for as deep as he dwelt, Angela had to stop him. She went to her bathroom and felt the need to inspect her person for any possible injuries. Stunned and enthused by what she saw when she came out of her bathroom, there was Kevin. He was laid over and mounted into Suzie, wildly humping her up the rump, both moaning their experience. Angela thought it a great time to relax and watch the perverted man rut her dog. As she watched, the skin color of Kevin seemed to match that of the furry hide on Suzie. In wonderment, she came closer to get a better look at Kevin while he huffed and thrust rather wild like into Suzie. Angela noted the feet of Kevin were exactly like those on Suzie, paw-like with pads. Stunned at then watching, she saw what was her favorite man for any a night radically changing, becoming as he rutted Suzie, Kevin became twice the size as an ever larger male Rottweiler sire. According to Angela, a handsome young man made for an equally well endowed male dog. She remarked to me that Kevin seemed not to mind his changing; actually the transition was slow but progressive enough to change his rear and legs to those of a Rottweiler. Angela knelt down and examined the testicles on Kevin, they became doggish, hung snug, were furry, and a good bit larger than those common on a man. Eying the two that night, one was a dog and the other Kevin as both were arousing Angela. She said how Kevy was being like some sci-fi werewolf-Rottweiler stud. As they would remain frolicking together, Kevin changed more, she seeing his maleness growing red in color, much added girth, and when his base became a dog stud knot. She swooned to have it inside of her. As bitch and sire howled feeling their mutual climaxing, Angela hoped to know more and better of what Suzie so very much did enjoy. Angela mentioned that for two dogs mating it happens in just a few minutes and when the male dog knot softens, they part to clean up using those sensual seeking tongues. This time, the two dogs remained passionately together for more than an hour of elapsed time. It took Kevin an hour more to calm enough that he was able to remove his knot, when he did he looked up at her and moaned as if he relished his fate. To console Kevin, Angela petted his head; Suzie did as much and began licking and cleaning of his slightly protruding red pecker-head, it sticking out the end of his furry sheath. Seemingly, Kevin liked what he felt and how he had become so willingly a Rottweiler dog. He was enthused for finding new ways to enjoy his animal self and the heightening of his sexual rush. Angela knelt down by Kevin, he then in his massive muscular dog form, and let as liked it when he began to sniff at her, they both became again aroused. Seeing his large, long, and deep red prick, she wondered of how much Kevin realized how he had so changed of species. She especially wondered when lying on her bed, with Angela on the bottom, Kevin did it to her missionary style, something not done by dogs. A lapping tongue, lots of doggy drool, and his pointed ten inch long red hot rod thrust in her as she felt his big tennis ball size of a knot trying to protrude inside of her. The things that Angela talked about more than anything else, were as they had lain there all night long, she never felt so thrilled. I interviewed Angela when after a week had passed and the festival was packed away and the streets swept. Kevin never was seen or returned from his wild night with a sexy woman. In meeting with Angela I met then Suzie, and as much her exceedingly larger friend, a 200 pound big male Rottweiler, he a horny dog by the name of Kiev. Now I know what happened but not as I would wish or planned anything more than a prank. As for the others, the elixir made only temporary changes to them as of their physical anatomy. Had they found their different lifestyle as invigorating as had Kevin, he having sex pleasures with Suzie by day and Angela at night, his changed self continued his enjoying being as a dog. Now it was down to Ben, this being what he primarily wanted, and wished to see Ben got to know better as just how bestial he could sometimes become. Seated at long picnic tables seating a hundred hungry people to a dinner, Ben sat across from me; as he asked you several times if I were expecting to see somebody in the crowd. I wondered if yet a passer by might walk their dog and Ben would touch it like I had seen happening to Stan from his touching a horse. Suddenly the loud music stopped and a very Polish little man steps up to the microphone; he announcing the winners of the special lottery prizes for that night at the festival. Everybody scrambles to find their numbered tickets, all wait with bated breath, and all eyes are looking at the stage as the announcer calls out the third place winner. The prizes there were little more than bobby prizes, but to win something is always a big thrill! "For third place in the drawing tonight, number 56613, 5-6-6-1-3 is the third place winner for tonight." Said the announcer, his Polish accent about obliterating the manner he spoke the winning number. "Hey, hey, me that's me," Ben leaped up out of his seat, yelling as all began to applaud. I watch as Ben gets up on stage and stands his six foot two inches towering over the announcer standing beside him. "As third place winner it is our gift to you that for the rest of the festival and paid the lowest minimum wage allowed, shall officiate as one of the judges to our young 4-H club members. He would be a truly an impartial judge for those showing their farming abilities, all as future farmers." The announcer awards Ben a job he knew little or nothing about, but by winning, the job was one binding to him as required he should show up. Ben returned to his seat by me, disgruntled he had to show up at the county fairgrounds to be the judge there for the 4-H kids and their favorite critters. My wild little scheme is unraveling and going all wrong. Disgruntled by all the jovial congratulations he received; he left the festive area and began walking. I followed, wondering, waiting, as Ben the judge and part of a panel of judges for the 4-H exhibit did wander off to the fair grounds. He thought of getting some sort of an eye, ear full as what he would need to be a judge the next few days. Most of the animals in the bug filled barns had crunched down to lie there half asleep but listening. As Ben did walk the three main aisles of the barn and between the many animal pens, he, we happened to here some odd sounds; as if someone was moaning, hurt, injured. Concerned for anyone in pain, Ben dashed up and down the stalls, checking in each of the hundred or so there in that barn. One checking done, he bumped into a night watchman, and showing the papers of his placement as a 4-H judge on the morrow, he asked the man to help him look for who might be hurt as he had heard them moaning. The meeting with that night watchman proved enlightening as well, he made a report later of the incident and of a judge who never showed up to handle his judging duties. Later, after what did happen to Ben he confided in me and told of his vague memories of what were the next few weeks in hell. Ben remembered the beginning of his early stages. As he checked a second time about the many stalls for someone hurt or injured; he rather expected that they would want to be found. His checking in a pen where a small group of pigs stood huddled together in one far corner; as nearest to the aisle lay one big boar pig, he all stretched lengthwise, nestled into the cedar shavings that the fair used as animal bedding. He then heard a soft rather seductive sort of moan. Ben leaped the pen fence and began digging around in the foot thick bedding of that pen. His hand bumped something, then his other hand touched something lying covered by the shavings, and as well directly under the big pig. Instantly he thought in might be a youngster that fell into the pen and the big boar was defending his herd from invasion or harm. Ben grabbed at the head of the boar, struggling with him, caused it to stand up and allow the person under him to get up and get out of the pen. Humorously surprised, Ben remembered that when the boar stood up, he was attached by his very erect maleness into the naked body of a college coed we both knew as Melissa. Moaning and embarrassed beyond speaking words, Melissa hung suspended up and on the stout erection of that male pig. Ben sat by her, knowing that it would be the softening of the corkscrewed shaft embedded so long, so deep, and of such girth, that it would take some time before Melissa would fall free. He remained quiet to keep the embarrassing situation of Melissa from becoming a newspaper story of bestial debauchery. They held hands and sat quiet as Melissa tried to work her hands at forcing the boar to relax his grip to her... The touching of that pig boar by Ben set the remedy into motion, the change in species would like the others, Ben got more than I expected. While he sat there feeling uncomfortable, and as the waves of change raked over his body, he became incensed with smelling of both the pig shaft and where he had it stuck. Melissa took note of how Ben changed in his normally calm and very moral thinking demeanor; becoming as much like the big Boar, until he began sprouting bristles from his forehead. Melissa was of her own nature and known to love animals, mostly male animals, she could stand there watching a male animal and licking her lips with feelings of some anticipation. Ben said he noticed first how Melissa was licking her lips and eying him as if he was her next sexual conquest. The situation changed hands when the big boar did finally soften his grip in Melissa and she slid off his shaft with the slithering style of a snake coming out a hole in the ground. Ben remembered quite frankly how he saw it happen, and stuck the end to his then changing nose; he poked it in and between two slender limbs. Melissa lay very quiet, her eyes wide with disbelief of seeing a fellow classmate changing into something a mixed blend of pig and human. She watched as some of what was facially Ben became an exact duplicate of her and or some as well to the boar she just had a... friendly relationship. Ben lost track of what happened after that, his mind awakening at various times, when he first thrust in a long tongue and tickled Melissa. He remembered when they were both so thrilled she did coax him into cab of her Dodge truck. Again Ben had lapses in remembering what he was and did for what seemed almost an eternity. His moral and religious teachings by strict parents and a proper rearing caused even a crude minded beasty to feel Leary of doing what Melissa would try and get them to enjoy. During a wild three weeks of many wild sexual lesbian like pleasuring, some nosey neighbors heard noises. Rank moaning, a few screams and the squealing of a pig came from in the rented rural house where Melissa resided. She kept Ben locked in the basement and luckily for what was as that last full week, was when Ben finally discovered he had changed to part pig and part human female, similar to Melissa, but lustily bestial. The potion wore thin its affects and after Ben being a Pig-woman sex monster for almost a month. Ben got loose and wandering had found a boar and let it do her, he/she became then a sow slut with near constant want for sexual heightened delights. Ben began to change one night. He changed enough to let him/her self out of the basement and ran off into the night. Changing slowly over the course of three days and four long nights, Ben stayed out in the wilder rural parts of the town. He arrived naked and back at our frat house, partially cloaked in shaggy bristles, and fat as having the large duggets anyone had seen hung from the belly of a grown sow. Two weeks after that morning when Ben returned to wanting to being like us who are human, he went to visit Melissa and asked for her hand in marriage. Alas then there was of self, the planner of weird and screwball pranks! My own situation waited for instigating until almost back to the Frat house and your room there. When to my fool amazement I did forget about the tainted mouthwash and remedy as I made use of it, near dooming of me. A planned hot date with a lovely girl had Ben wishing me well, slapping my cheek with his still pig bristle covered hand. My try to side-step past him I did trip and fell into his strong arms. Our touching began for me a personal trial. When later I became sickly, the touch of possible doom, it came upon me making of me a pig. My personal heritage mixed in and what was I stood before my date as I changed into what is a rare breed of pig as having curly bristles. Yelling by her as she watched brought reinforcement to the growing bestial mentality. I was a student becoming miraculously as an exact duplicate of that large pig. Bristles popped, my nose turned up and was flat, my mouth, the teeth all fell out, replaced soon by bestial teeth of a boar hog. She screamed, as I squealed like an angry pig, I was and knew I was an animal. I began having the sensations of what a boar pig likes. A slow crawl to try and rise upright failed, and during the next few days as she studied, taunted and tested me, we decided then that the story of a man changed into a pig boar was not a silly hoax. Squealing, oinking, she took me from there and to a farm, a pig breeding farm where my huge balls could work to make sows happy and farmers richer. Days were then weeks and weeks became months, and soon a year, two, three, I lost count, breeding as does a boar with sows became the only thing I learned to love. Near to four years later I became able to stagger out of the swine pen and take mu leave of living the bestial life of a stud boar. Once outside the pen and upright more and more, I had to fight with the desire to fall back and walk on all fours. My fingers and toes were as cloven hooves but an odd as old remembered sensations returned. Grazing still, I had a burning sensation in the belly; it churned and began making me believe I was becoming more human by the day. Feeling horrible and horny for not having bred a sow recently, I would lay stretched out long and rolling in the grass, bemoaning my wish to be again a human. The one morning when I looked into a rain puddle did watch elatedly as for the next three hours my human face and body became like a human sort of Goliath male curly swine-human. Agony came in waves as I felt my male organ unfurled from the sheath I learned to like keeping it warm and safe. The maleness hung out still long and corkscrew shaped by the end. The being male pig would have me relish my masculine male shaft. More unsettling was the manner how swelled testicles did begin to shrink, the pain from them made me scream and wish they would stay huge. What were my massive muscular flanks did dwindled; my tail snapped and fell off. I felt sad at this as I would use it to tickle those big balls as the protruded from my bristly behind. Just like the salesman reiterated about his strange product, the use of it made me horny, and being alone and changing back I began to masturbate. You never saw such a thing before, but the want and need for release built to where I thought if not doing so, I might go stock raving insane. Oddly, the sensitive touch by hooves becoming as hands had me caressing of thick hide and loving my curly bristles. A remembered sense of delight there was in being of bodily form of a pig. Narrow shoulders broadened, as arms begin their fated return to become as human appendages. Leaning to walk as a man, in time, weeks it was before I with stolen clothing from off a wash line did stumble into a gasoline filling station and there give a try to peeing like a man. The bathroom toilet was a stark difference when doing it as seeing I still had a very corkscrew shaped male shaft. The manner how arms realigned and legs made the standing upright easier but not the delight of being on all fours. I stood there peeing a stroking of my long as piggish big rod. Eyes about bug from my face and head as the rush of change makes a human skull something retrofitted to what was the real me. Sensations run wild, feeling so delightful become ecstatic as I eye the mirror because just seeing what were again as my human ears. Ears no-longer pointed, bristly, or lop eared like a swine boar. The foyer clock down at the entrance to the old apartment house chimes midnight, and I stood knowing I was not a big boar hog. Fear welled again, forlorn wonderment if what I saw were but a precursor of the remedy I drank long hence that was making me into some other bred of animal. In fear I returned to what was my bedroom. It was unchanged from that first day when leaving for college. I closed the door, locking it for fear of me changing again and in that horror I might flee from there, hurting more those I loved. Receded were the size of my testicles but the pangs of want, feeling ever so horny, there was that longing to be hunched over the back of a sow and going for broke! All that day and well into the night reoccur those rank pangs making for constant pacing the floor, hands and finger touching what was when a boar my pride, my sheath and that shaft. Luckily for me the coming of morning rays of sunshine pour in through a bedroom window that awakens, reviving of a new day, the first day reprieved from needing to be and live as do an animal. A human male feeling still the panging want to act as if continually horny, but with the certain hope that this with time away from being around swine it too will cease its hold upon my body and soul. What remains yet is that long as corkscrew contoured pecker shaft, it has no sheath to call its home, but hangs down, along the leg, a reminder of it with all its nearly sixteen inches of length. Awake and remembering what was the taught lessons of personal hygiene, something swine pay a never-no-mind to such a concern. The first order of the day is to brush the crud from teeth. Teeth that until then were not a passing thought and looking in the mirror noted the total lack of what were for so long as tusks. A dumb grin at me in the mirror offered a wonderful reflection for the change, teeth, human, all new and perfect like when young and human. Fading was the languishing wish to return to where all was easy. Foreboding is the passing thought of want, the wishing to infect of self again, to become as just such a huge sexual boar, a smile in the mirror was the answer and that a clear as precise "NO!" Changing back to being what I was that terrible evening when by foolhardy stupidity, reminded how I doomed three friends to living their lives as beasts, they I wanted to see again. To meet them and learn if they remembered how to communicate and knew me! To want for then asking of them if what they became was to their liking, or was life for them as otherwise? It was the otherwise that taunted me still. If they were as horrified still of being what the remedy made of them, then it was my duty to seek out and find a remedy to give them back what I foolishly took away. Forgetting the day and its special occasions of family reuniting with he who was lost to them, fearful especially the dining, if by eating I were to forget all manners and begin foraging like do pigs at the trough. As bad and or worse is the occasional chuckling that ends up spouting a piggish snort! Sadly dearest mother stands by her kitchen stove willing as ready to cook up a breakfast for her son, as I pass her by, saying a quick no thanks. Intent is the mind on one thing at a time, the common mentality of living as does an animal. I was intent that morning to meet them, if still alive, my friends and ask of them what they would like for me to do? Beginning with where was that night the festival and four who were as friends, I began my trekking. First and easiest to find was of friend Stan. The brewery owned stables were where they had stood for more than a hundred years. My entering of them was met there by an elderly man, he the stables manager. An urgent explaining as to me being there the night a all red roan colt Jutland horse was born into a wild world, the man seemed to remember that strange night. He went with me, showing me to the stall, as stopping and standing then of awe, saw not colt Stan but a four years of age matured stud stallion draft horse what was Stan! Nicely the man bid me well and left me there with the huge horse looking down at a puny human. I said then, "Stan it is me, we were friends, frat brothers, do you remember?" The huge horse stood there calm as silent, he eying at me, those large liquid brown eyes looking as wheels turned and thoughts a memories collected into an idea. When he stepped forward, lowering his head and nuzzled his face against my chest I knew then he knew me as a friend. I felt some sense of relief, and let him touch me, he snuffling as whimpering, delighted at the sight of seeing again a long lost friend that remembered he was not always as a horse of form. One thoroughly touching few moments, and then came the poignant question. "Stan, knowing then me and I of you, are you content being a horse..., stallion, and stud breeder as what you are and could remain?" The loving nuzzling ceased and the great horse head was drawn back as raised high above me. Stan was drawn back and thinking, he contemplating the possibilities of his form, lifestyle, and what it was once. Suddenly came forth his response as a screaming whinny, it forceful enough to rustle the hairs on my head. He backed away from his stall door and whirled a circle, I seeing his full form and the quick gained erection, he aroused at some sort of idea in his head. With docked tail so short but whisking his anus, he pranced a circle, stomping his large shod hoofs upon the mat cover concrete floor. Then he stopped his elation and stood again calm as calculating. As I watched he stood there and gave that huge head a nod, the answer was a definite "Yes!" "Yes," I said aloud, "you want to be what you were!" Stan whinnied again, not as loud and not a harshly, but then swaying, he shook his head as if to specify an answer of "No!' "No, you do not wish to be as am I, human, and your old self. As yes, you like what and where you are, you being a horse, stallion and made use of as a stud for breeding of horses!" I said, trying to make sense of what he said. To my stating the issue as such, Stan again nodded his head as if to agree, he did like what he became and wished never again to be anything other than a horse. My understanding his delight of self was to some degree a relief upon an aching soul. The realization of us as friends still, I bid Stan a good day, informing him I had a schedule and next upon my travels was meeting with Kevin. As I walked out the stables and offered a friendly thanks to the manager in his office, a long whinny was as the good bye to me from Stan standing held in his stall. Having used a phone book to check the address where Angel then lived, she was still at the ragtag downtown apartment owned by her undertaker father. I walked to there, and knocking at the door heard from inside the deep gruff tone of a large dog barking an alert of someone at the front door. As the door opened I stood looking up a face not nearly as pretty what I remembered. Angela, she looked haggard and sickly, as standing near hip high and seemingly very healthy was this large dog, a huge headed Rottweiler. A friendly reminder from four years hence as me being one of the four musketeer friends, I was there to inquire about Kevin. My question fell of her ears as if an insult and she was about to slam closed the door when the large dog interceded, he blocking the door with his body. "Alright, OK if he wants to see you, as then come in, please do not mind our mess!" Angela said, she opening the door wide and I walking in, the large Rottweiler dog leaping up, he fawning his forelegs over my shoulders, stood still a foot taller than the top of my head. I began by admitting that the families of various caring friends, and the sudden as unexplainable loss of Stan, Kevin, and Benjamin too were for all a real heart jerker. Myself, I too felt the radical changing and spent some four years as a boar hog mating sows and breeding thousands of piglets into a cruel world. Angela sat listening and the expounded, said "As he too and were thereafter that wild night and next day there was much jerking he did, to me and to Suzie, he did a lot!" A growl at the hearing Angela demean her friend and dog, Kevin dearest friend remained alive, living daily his life of doggy debauchery. He sitting there on his butt, a docked tail on him too wagged with excitement. Stud male Rottweiler dog that he was, he reacted to excitement in a common male animal manner and exposed near six inches of his then uncircumcised maleness. His mistress and owner saw too the pretty pink erection protruding the dark furred sheath, she reiterating her often loan of boyfriend for sire duties to respectable kennels. Kevin, or Kiev the preferred new name; he had Suzie to learn best and practice often his doggy mounting and thrusting techniques. His other duties around house were a private matter. Angela wished not to speak openly about what he does, but whether by day or night, Kevin is honing his male gender in on somebody. "Where is Suzie, she was a nice big doggy too?" I asked, not seeing her there, and with a stranger in the house she would be with her stud, both filled with interest. "She died," was what Angela said in quick response to the question. Kevin growled and barked; obviously he did not like what his dearest owner said. Angela jerked a bit at the sharp sounding bark of an annoyed dog. She sighed, then said as to explain further, "Suzie died birthing pups, one pup was more human than dog, a mutant, if it lived it would be a true to form were-dog. In essence his first night here acting like a dog in rut, your friend Kevin, mated Suzie to her death." Then it seemed a good time to ask a question, and looking at Kevin seated and panting, I said, "If found and offered, would you like to become human again?" Angela said a harsh "No!" Kevin got up, stood there and stared at me as if ready to attack. He walked slowly up to me, reared up high, and walked two steps balancing precariously forward. His erection was protruding far out of his sheath and as he approached me, he let his body fall forward, effectively forcing his oily cock into my opened mouth. Stunned by what he did, my mind went into react mode and unwittingly I began to suck on his prick. Angela began to laugh, she thought it all quite a funny thing, Kevin seemingly liking to be her dog, and I willing to sick a dog cock and not act as if revolted. By his sheer weight atop me he pressed my down and out from the chair where I sat, he thrusting his pelvis and cock ever deeper down my throat. We fell and lay together, as much in the 69 form, as he mauled his toothy jaw to my arousal still tenting at the front of my pants. After long minutes of profound fornication continued between they who were friends, but different. When Kevin blew his sticky load, and slowly stood up the feeling of his cock knot exiting my mouth left me longing with remembrance for the feel of a sow. When he stepped away and stood partially sporting his pink erection, I sat up and licked my lips. "A simple head nod would have said your wish better, not that I did not enjoy what you did, but I need to think of being human to remain human." I said, admitting to Kevin that my return to being a person was tenuous at best. More long minutes needed to quell passions, and I reiterated my next mission was to discover what became of friend Ben. Angela looked to Kevin as he to her, as she said, "Ben, he is dead!" "Dead," I exclaimed in horror at the thought. That is when she told of knowing Melissa and of her love of male pigs, an obsession what got her in trouble and imprisoned as well disowned by her family. Angela helped the girl get back on her feet after a year in jail. She told then of what happened, of her fun time at the fairgrounds and of Ben thinking he was being of help, did then change. She told while crying of having to watch a nice man become changed, becoming a male pig and for her, to her as her boar hog lover. They made love daily and after more than a year before her father with some buyers caught her letting a boar screw her, she and Ben enjoyed life as sex was their thing of a wild fling. Jailed, her mother came to visit and informed Melissa that the boar she pleasured with her father sold to the meat packer. As much as what she knew then and never went back to be sure, Ben died the death of a pig. Hearing that the sense or horror returned and it was my turn to cry tears. A jerk of a joke turned horrific, Ben dead, but Kevin and Stan delighted with what they became, as well myself, delighted of returning to being human, if only to be able to tell the tale.


preg, tg
I loved the foal transformation in this story. I like how he found his new mothers stall by scenting her manure.