Daughter Of Circe
Last Edit: Apr 30th, 2015
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"Question, when younger did you ever peek over fences, gaze a quick look into windows, or wonder about a neighbor that did not seem quite normal?"
I was never a peeping Tom, but there was one person who did not fit the mold of being a friendly neighbor. The name on her mail box read as Miss Agnes Smyth, but all who saw her referred to her simply as Miss Smyth. Her house was the original farmhouse to a farm of what was sold off and became the housing plat for some two hundred plus number of happier homes.
The Smyth house set near to the middle of the subdivision, it having some twenty acres of fallow (Untilled land) farm land with the large white Victorian two story farmhouse, though well kept and neat, it tended to remind those who were younger of the “Munsters” television show.
So out of place was this one house with its white picket fence, hedge rows, and brick driveway; this one wondered often why the contractor allowed it left standing. As it happened, the general contractor who bought the land from Miss Smyth, according to rumor had angered her, he not informing her of his plan to build around her house hundreds of larger as prettier homes than she owned. Miss Smyth and the contractor man were seen having verbal fights, until after one near fist flying brawl, the man became one of those known to be of the “Missing.”
Oddities like this often help kids build stories, telling them to parents and over the passing of time, it becomes a neighborhood fantasy.
Our family home stood directly across the street from the Smyth museum of a house. I would sit on our front porch and just watch Miss Smyth putter in her garden, or pushing an old manual reel type lawn mower as she cut the small lawn surrounding her house. She kept to herself, just her and that monster of one Airedale dog, her exceptionally friend pet.
The Smyth house was not the only building on her section of our plat, there was this ancient big barn. It was an eyesore to most people, all gray, never painted, the barn boards made of cedar wood, as were the shingles on its roof.
Standing aside to the barn was a corral and in it stood two pet ponies. One pony was black as night, and the other stood a bit taller, looking like a small Palomino horse. Never a sound did they make, as just stood in the corral all day, mute and silent, but wanting to be friendly if anyone thought to dare go on the property to pet.
So then, with the coming of fall and Halloween, the Smyth home was the proper place to play tricks. Miss Smyth acted very normal on that one night of the year, she handing out lots of candy and offering some to enter her house and taste a homemade brew of spicy apple cider. Benson, her pet as large an Airedale dog was there, he as friendly as always, would farm his fore paws over the shoulders of teenage girls and want to stand so close to the his stiff sheath would poke a few at their privates.
You would ask how I know about the dog liking young human females. Well I was watching one afternoon, and saw Jane Tennis, she a high school senior go to the Smyth house. Jane was selling magazine subscriptions for making money to go on the graduate class trip to Washington, D.C.
When Miss Smyth failed of come to her front door, Jane walked along the porch to the north side of the house, as then saw Benson lying in the backyard. Jane like so many others knew that Miss Smyth was never far away from her dog or he from her. When Benson saw Jane he got up and pranced to meet as greet her in his very common manner to greet a pretty girl.
Jane was startled when Benson leaped upright and fawning his paws over her shoulders. Benson pushed Jane backwards, he walking along with her, until the two of them were behind the two car garage.
I jumped to my feet and running, ran as leaped the green hedge in front of the Smyth home, and ran to see what Jane and Benson were doing.
Oops, but I was a peeping tom right then and peering cautiously around the corner of the garage, I saw there Benson and Jane pressed against the rear wall of the garage. As cross my heart it is true, of what I saw was Jane wide eyed and scared. Benson was talking, speaking with his dog mouth perfectly understandable English at Jane.
Whatever he had said to her before I got there, I surmised, as Jane was busily unbuttoning her clothing and getting naked as if Benson had asked her to do so!
About then was when she reached her left hand down to pet, as stroke his furry sheath, arousing from it his red and purple pointed, big doggy cock, it coming erect stood out a foot long or more. Benson inched forward as coming closer while staring into the eyes and face of Jane, maybe placing her in a controlling trance.
Controlling her, she with her hand did guide his pointed dog cock to her vaginal slit. Jane moaned as the long cock slipped easily inside her quivering body. Then Benson began to hop on his hind legs as thrusting his cock in and out of Jane, he growling while she could but stand stiff as a board and shivering from fear.
When Benson fired his load inside Jane they both jumped as she tried to push then the dog away, but they were as joined from his cock-knot lodged snug in her pussy. She by then was crying, pleading as she sobbed, asking, but not saying Benson, she used the name of Dale as if the dog had an alias?
“Oh Dale please,” Jane I remember her so well as she said then, “Why, but you are now a dog, how, how is such possible?”
Just then his cock-knot softened and it popped out of Jane allowing her to sink to sitting with her bare butt on the ground.
“Dale you ruined me, I lost my virginity to a dog!” Jane said, she crying while fingering at her pussy draining some of what Benson/ Dale ejaculated into her womb.
“No worries there honey, my being a dog and you a human means I cannot get you pregnant, but, you must admit it was fun!” Dale said, or was it Benson, but whatever the dog said to Jane. I had to think about the dog and his voice, it sounded familiar!
Jane got dressed and gathered her items for selling of magazines, she walking then rather stiffly, staggering some as she rounded the side of the garage and was gone from sight.
Benson/Dale dropped to all fours again and returned to acting like his usual big Airedale dog self. That was when I daringly stepped past the corner to the rear of the garage and said, “Hey Dale, you learned to breed well enough!”
My suddenly being there made it obvious I had seen what happened caused the big dog to about jump out of his skin. He barked at me, as continued to growl and bark trying to intimidate me, but I stood there rather nonchalantly leaning against the corner of the garage.
Benson/Dale stood a defensive stance, he barking took note the noise was not intimidating me in any way so he tried a more direct approach, he spoke. “Hey… Jack, it is so nice that we could finally meet when I am able to talk.”
“You talk well enough and stared at Jane, some manner of mind control or can you put the female into a fear induced trance before you rape them while being a mutt who likes to enjoy bestial sex. I must admit though that scene with Jane got me a hard-on.” I was scared then too but recall the situation well enough. It was about then I remembered knowing the voice was that of my long-lost as missing friend, was then an Airedale dog?
I had grown to the age of acting responsibly as then having begun my first semester attending college. I felt like a mischievous kid when watching, or as walking past the Smyth property. My parents had warned me many times to take care, to be cautious, and for sure to stay away from the cantankerous Miss Agnes Smyth.
That day and time I felt rather assured for some odd reason that Miss Smyth was not there, granting me the reason to trespass and fortunate, I got to see and understand much.
“Dumb right stupid your coming here by daylight, but the old girl is taking her afternoon nap about now. When she naps I get put out of the house like I was a common dirty dog, and she then leaves me outside to play as I see fit.” Dale said, he contorting his mouth and using his throat to force his speaking of words from his doggish self.
“Dale,” I said in addressing who was once a good friend, “Your Miss Agnes Smyth did something and made from your human self this large male, as well endowed sexual big dog, I take it then you like being a dog?”
“Bark,” Dale did, as he turned to look back at the house, then turned and rising upright he fawned on my shoulders and said then, “Be quite, speak softly as if you were to awaken her, I would tell you to leave, run, and do not let her catch you!”
He pressing-pushed me along the rear wall to the freestanding garage to where we could not be seen or heard talking by Miss Smyth.
“Then you like being a dog for Miss Smyth?” I asked Dale.
He as much laughed, his breath stunk like dog food and urine from his licking at his sheath. Dale then replied, “It was a strange thing when she, Agnes met me one evening and came on to me, me being a teenage fellow well able to enjoy a woman, but was then still a virgin youth. She escorted me inside her house and served me some ice tea and a stale tasting cookie. We talked, well she mostly as the cookie made me feel sickly.
Suddenly I was in pain, my guts churning, I slid off the chair where I was sitting and fell to kneeling, holding my arms across my stomach as I pleaded to know why she had poisoned me.
She laughed, and told me it was not exactly a poison but worked similar.
I begged to her that I did not want to die, but that too made her smile. She replied, assuring me I would not die, but soon, very soon I would be for her the kind of male she liked to enjoy having sex.
My thoughts then as of having sex with a wild woman like her stirred me to hold on. It was then and for three hours after I ate those yucky cookies that my loins and legs became as they are now. We had sex! As then more sex, my changes progressed, I became for her a big dog, and as you said I am well endowed with a fat, as long pointed cock that is more sensual than was my puny human penis.
She promised me to change me back to being my human self after a fun few months, but by my seeing and talking with you, I think the months have been as years. You have grown, matured, likely in college by now!”
We talked, he fawning on me, face to muzzle. I listened, a bit trapped and held against the garage wall by what might be a hundred and fifty pound big dog. Dale told me of Miss Smyth, of her evil perverted ways, how she wooed after he became for her a dog, he losing all morals felt an intense desire to mate.
When Miss Smyth would want her big dog to feel affectionate, she would massage his furry sheath. It was an enticing to him causing a quick erect state, and then she would allow him to sniff her privates.
As I stood there listening of what Dale said and experienced, it sounded plausible, if too good to be true. What imagination does to degrade a person, I felt then a want to go to her, this wild sex minded perverted woman, and ask to be another of her lovers.
Dale told of what she helped him to do, as of the sexual details as she with him did excite her pet. He sounded as their sex caused him pains, though with time and after a dozen sexual evening, all feelings of disgust faded away.
His situation was not limited to him as he made mention of the two ponies she owned, and kept in the large gray barn. From what she told him during a sexual romp, the two ponies were once humans. She had changed them some years back having come as religious witnessing canvassers. Dale said she talking about them seemed to insult her, and when angered she, would show people just how low they were on her idea of the evolutionary scale.
Miss Smyth did with the two brothers as she had with Dale and poisoned them, causing their bodies to convulse, until they became as we of the neighborhood saw them daily standing in a corral or out grazing in the pasture.
The brothers were smart even after becoming pony animals and tried several times to scratch messages in the corral dust to alert children of who and what they were when not as animals.
An upset parent coming to complain about the two trained ponies writing, using their right fore hoofs, was a bother. The complaint alerted and upset Miss Smyth, she adding to the ponies’ bland existence the lack of understanding words, as able to write, they became ignorant. They can just whinny or snort, never again to speak and insult her about what she liked or the way she lived.
Nineteen years those two brothers had to stand living as do ponies there until she sold them. Todd and Henry, I could remember seeing their names written with white chalk on a plank board nailed beside each their stable door to a usually filthy stall.
Dale was a dog for a year when the ponies were sold. He saw how they lived though remarked to how well Agnes spellbound her pony friends to stay healthy, while continually young, they could not age. She tainted their drinking water with a potion what kept both remaining as pony stallion studs, she had loaned them out to different farms every year for breeding purposes.
Twice since the ponies left the farm did Miss Smyth allow local Airedale breeds bring bitch females for Dale to mount, mate, and get some doggy stile kicks. He spoke about his sex romps with female Airedales as if they were as much fun as was his weekly flings with dear Agnes Smyth.
He then warned me not to temp her anger, as she might make me as one of her pets, or cause me to live as some animal about the countryside.
The sound of a slamming screen door foretold of Miss Smyth had awakened, as then Dale fell to standing on all fours and began acting like a dog, he barking and growling at me.
His deep growl suggested I might soon lose a chunk of some skin, or worse. Hearing him there and quite near I began to walk slowly around the far side of the garage, edging closer to where I could make a dashing run toward the hedge nearest the front street.
When Dale/Benson cocked his head and peering one eye at me, he winked as if to give me the go-ahead to run. Growling deeply he sounded aggressive, turning to look then at the rear to the house where a sleep-groggy Miss Smyth stood.
I said something like, nice doggy, good dog, but then ran as fast as my legs could move me, and leaped the hedge. I dashed across the street to stop and turn to look again at the Smyth home.
There on her front porch stood Miss Smyth and her dog at her side. She was staring at me to where my blood ran cold. I saw her wagging an index finger as if to shame me for daring to trespass on her property.
We the kids of our neighborhood were correct, as our Miss Smyth was a true to life Witch!
All that happened on a September day, but the business of college and daily life responsibilities kept me away, as at a safe distance from Miss Smyth, my friend Dale, and not in danger.
October and the coming of Halloween had the neighborhood in an uproar to prepare for that night when spooks come out and children get fat from eating free candy. It was a time of year when the kid in most everybody comes to life and the evil in people makes them do foolish or stupid things a proper person on another day would never think to do!
Halloween night, and college classmates James, Alan, Carl, Tyler and me, had a party while my parents were away for the week attending the funeral of an uncle to mom.
We got drinking and the fool beast tickled our minds, Tyler was the worst, and having heard me talk about the witch across the street, he had some ideas about doing some foolishly dumb stunts.
Alan found some bars of soap to write on the windows. Tyler went looking, as found some dog poop and placed it inside a doubled paper bag he panned to set on fire on the front porch. Carl collected all our empty beer cans and strung them together, why he did not say. As James thought to go along for moral support, while I was the one to wait and watch, ringing the doorbell after Tyler lit the bags afire.
Please remember, we were drunk and not thinking too clearly.
As I watched the mayhem happening, I had time to sit and recall what doggy Dale said about being beware of angering Miss Smyth.
Childhood fantasies tend to die away slowly. Mine was still alive and offering me occasional dreams of someday becoming an animal, even one kept by a witch for her pleasure. My having a real witch who lived across the street kept me wondering if I would dare go and confront her, asking of her to make my fantasy wish come true.
The list of tricks worked perfectly, right up to when I was standing there on the front porch and about ready to press the doorbell button. Imagine the mess we made, and of a doubled paper bag burning, warming the pile of dog poop to near a liquid of rank stench, and coming around the house from her rear door, there stood an angered Miss Smyth.
I turned and ran, leaping off the porch as dashed into the dark before leaping the hedge and crossing the street. I and James were the luckiest of our five vandals. Miss Smyth caught hold of Tyler and had him standing there wide eyed and looking like a zombie.
Alan and Carl tripped over the lawn sprinkler and hose, as looked back at Miss Smyth, she mesmerized them, they could not move.
I watched with horror seeing three friends marched away from the house as across the pasture to the gray but empty barn.
The sudden exertion from running and James passed out cold lying sprawled up the front steps to our house.
Miss Smyth never looked back at me but kept moving her captives soon to be victims moving closer to their possible bestial doom. I felt as if I had to do something, so maybe silly, I ran after my friends, coming as winded to the barn, seeing the lights inside were turned on and heard Miss Smyth talking.
Once I had caught my breath and slowed my breathing, my heart racing, I opened a service door to the barn and walked inside.
Miss Smyth was busy with what she was doing, as I saw Alan standing stripped naked by in a trance, he looked pale, near to being dead.
“Feel my wrath!” I heard Miss Smyth say, and I approached to where she was inside a box stall where Todd the pony had resided for many years.
As I peered over the top edge to the stall the phrase of “Don’t ask and don’t tell,” came to mind, as from what was happening reaffirmed a lot of how I pondered the relationships between Carl and Tyler.
Miss Smyth had Tyler leaning over a sawhorse set in the stall; he was naked, though at that moment the term naked did not seem to fit. She had changed Tyler! He had long furry ears, a bristly mane, and was covered head to hind hoofs with a pelt of dark brown donkey fur.
Miss Smyth stood beside Tyler, she holding high up his donkey tail, I saw him from the rear, noted that my friend had a vulva below a equine puckered anus.
Friend Carl was standing there too, he as much a donkey as was Tyler, but not a female. Carl sported a long, black, donkey cock, the circumcision gone, it blunt flat at the end, had a wide flare of a flap of skin, looked beastly morbid to me.
Carl staggered then forward and he looking at Miss Smyth for directing him, I watched as he pressed the head of his horrid looking cock in and down inside of a then screaming, braying Tyler.
Mounted and humping his lover, Carl and Tyler from the sexual joining were looking minute by passing minute more like true donkeys. Carl was snorting his face elongating, muzzle forming, his arms becoming as new fore legs though he had still fur covered human hands.
Tyler was going all the way and after being molested by his buddy, he became a jennet donkey and stepped down off the sawhorse to stand on all four, four legs, two pairs of hoofs, she wagging her tail as the ejaculation leaked out and trickled down her hind legs.
I had seen something so terrible that my knees buckled and I sank to below the plank way, kneeling there in a stall beside two friends learning to deal with being as animals.
“And now as for you my stupid drunk fool…” Miss Smyth said. She was talking to my then a zombie friend, Alan.
“Time to repay for the mess you made of my windows…,” she said, as just then I stood up and took a deep breath, said, “Please, stop, I am sure when my friends are sober they would apologize for what they did and do the cleaning up you specify.”
Oddly, my being there Miss Smyth was doing her craft she failed to note my life-force as nearby. I would suppose that was how she caught Alan soaping her windows, maybe?
Miss Smyth turned her back to Alan as she stood there and stared an angered look at me.
“You, my inquisitive young neighbor, you shall feel my wrath for this tomfoolery.” She said.
As I said, “Please, Carl and Tyler do not deserve to remain as beasts, let them go and Alan too! I will stay and accept your wrath!”
Such a statement of concern for friends bade Alan to turn his head and stare at me as did Miss Smyth stand and stare. She paused for a eternally long minute before replying, she said, “Alan I shall let go and he may leave, leave now Alan, go find your friend lying drunk on the steps, you lie down and sleep beside him until morning.”
Walking rather stiffly, Alan turned without saying a word and walked out of the barn as gone free.
“So what of Tyler and Carl, change them back, let them go too!” I as much begged for their release.
Just then there was a great deal of hoof stomping in the larger stall! Carl and Tyler were maybe going at it a second time, they braying, snorting, and one of them kept farting.
“Why, do you not hear them, they enjoy the wild as raw style of sexual frolicking they did so often when together. Carl said he liked being on top and Tyler did not mind being the one getting the shaft. They are more than happy with what I made of them, it an affirmation spell, something I learned many centuries ago from my dear mother.” The witch said.
“Centuries ago, your mother, how old are you and who then was mom?” I asked, being befuddled by the situation and all I had drank.
Miss Smyth smiled as if she was remembering her loving mother, before she replied, “You heard of Circe, well she was my mother as I am her daughter!”
I was about to say something that would cause me dire more trouble, but stopped when hearing Carl bray as he spewed forth his second massive load inside a hornier Tyler.
“Circe huh, you have moved on fro pigs to other animal forms, recalling of some famous paintings done by Author Hacker and or Briton Riviere. Their paintings showed mom taunting her pig victims, one painting with her nude and making the boar swine drool.
So then, you won’t change Tyler and Cark back to being their gay selves?” I asked.
Miss Smyth smiled, as she said, “You are bold to dare taunt me about my saintly mother. As yes, she would often go visit the sty and feed friends and enemies alike. As no, she would never go naked as near the swine, they being beasts, would go after her as they did with sow or boar, mounting, squealing, thrusting, humping, bleeding.
Oh, I see, your childhood fantasy has come to mind, you had wished to meet my mother and beg of her to become one of her beasts, but not a pig, you…, want to be a goat, but not a buck, your thrill is to be a doe goat, and get milked and screwed by a big buck!”
“Release Carl and Tyler, if not now, then after a short time of frolicking. Then make of me a doe goat for your delight or profit.” I said, my voice quivering from fear of what might be my future.
My fool suggestion hit with the mark, as awakening in her an idea.
“I will agree to return Carl tomorrow to being mostly his human self, he would want to keep his donkey genital of that I am sure. Tyler though I feel has a problem, she is now pregnant, and must reside as a jennet, birth her foal, and stay to wean it before she can be returned to being a human.
Tyler can go home after two year of living the life of a jennet donkey, unless she gets bred again, as a second foaling will make her being a donkey as quite impossible to change to anything else.
As for you, I would not get away with changing you and wait fore the police to come looking. Instead I shall set forth a plan. I want you to go home, sleep off your beer, and awake come morning, feeling drained, looking sad, to where your parents will suggest you take a week of needed vacation.
There, that sets the stage for what I shall do to you and you then doing for me.
Everything what Miss Smyth suggested came off like clockwork, as my parents begged me to take a train trip, giving me the perfect excuse to be away from home.
I left by taxi for the railroad station and once there grabbed a cab to take me back to the Smyth farm and let me off out front the gray barn. Miss Smyth, she seemed as a god sent for my fantasy!
The barn service door opened and she stood there looking at me, seeing my face and the expression of a guilt ridden young man, I made her to smile.
She asked me to come in, told to strip naked and take a seat inside a very small stall.
I was nervous and began by telling or talking about my conversing with her big dog Benson who was once my friend Dale. I told of how he had learned quickly to like of his life with her as a sex toy. I opened up and jabbered in detail about her two ponies and their muted lives. I then began about my own wishful fantasy, one of becoming some witches’ familiar, as a Nubian doe goat, living as would a common farm animal.
As I sat back while waiting, who would stroll into the barn but my friend, Dale.
She turned quickly to face the big dog, cursing at him for telling me he could talk, and worse he told of her blandishments, changing him and the two young men to be as animals.
Dale looked at me and then slunk down to lay on the barn floor.
I was reminded how Dale said she caused his changes to come about.
Miss Smyth held up to me a leather collar and chained to it was a square tin metal bell.
“You ready for this? Benson, your friend asked of me to make of him a Nubian goat, a doe used for milking and sex by bug bucks. He wished to live his whole life as an animal used like an animal.” She said, as I felt more demeaned.
Holding before the naked me she stood for a moment, then asked bluntly if I wanted for sure as being an animal for the rest of my life?
“Permanently,” I replied, “I want never to go home again, but learn the ways of living my life as do goats, as a doe goat…, continually young!”
Benson/Dale stood up and sauntered to me, he reared up and doing some pelvis thrusts his red cock slid out of the furry sheath. He stepped down to stand with his fore paws on my shoulders and his long as fat red cock touching my lips.
Miss Smyth stood silently there and watched as I sat stunned, feeling the oily dog cock slide inside my mouth as next Dale began humping at my face.
I was still male and my human penis reacted, I ejaculated while swallowed the load Dale fired down my throat.
“A lasting moment together my friend,” Dale said, as Miss Smyth then reached out the goat collar and buckled it about my neck.
The barn then and all there was suddenly lost in a visionary blanket of white. I could not see, but felt but body as if put into a cake mixer, churning sensations in my gut, head, and groin.
“Miss Smyth helps me…, baa, baa?” My last words turning then into the monotone cry of a goat bleating, that was then the last words I would say for a long, long while.
Blinded, but I felt my arms becoming legs, my human penis withered, my neck ached as it grew longer. I felt foolish for wanting to change genders, and species, wondering when done if my small head and smaller brain would remember my past as well understand and know my present.
I think Miss Smyth noticed my wonderment and I felt her kneel beside me, she said, “I want you to know of who you were, what happened here, and of every new day as you live the lifestyle of a doe goat. Believe me, I plan to watch you when the bucks come and each mates with you some six or more times in rapid successions.
You goat cunt will ache, your vagina will burn, your womb will feel full from semen, you will know all of what it is to be a goat and female. You milked and kid birthing, weaning, and more milking, and the sent to be with the bucks, as they shall molest you cross-eyed, year after year, for a long time to come!”
I sat there as her strong hands began to massage my shoulders. She worked her hands down my changing arms, jumping to rub my chest and soon started a soft massage in my udder.
Thoughts of mom and dad passed out of my mind and in a foolish sounding squeak of a voice, I bleated of my feelings.
Dale got up and put his head in my lap, seemingly to offer me some sort of doggy comfort.
Miss Smyth said nothing and this made me worry if I might end up worse than Tyler being a jennet donkey.
Miss Smyth got on her cell-phone, late as the hour was; she called someone, asking a friend farmer if he had need of a Nubian doe?
They conversed for a good hour while I continued to feel but not see how I was changing. I heard an agreement and the price I brought when being a doe goat, sold then like the animal I would become.
Miss Smyth continued to sit next to me, she began chanting a spell when then the cell-phone rang and she answered it. Her phone call was a friend and farm owner offering a suggestion for a larger breed of doe goat if possible, Miss Smyth said she would check on her inventory and call the man back.
“Would you agree Jack to become a changeling, as first for a few years be a Nubian doe and then begin to grow, become then a larger Boer breed doe, such would offer a change of ownership and location to a different farm and bigger bucks with longer cocks!” I was asked, and did nod my head to agree.
“Baa…, baa, baa,” I bleated, Miss Smyth knowing I had a question,” as she did her thing to me, otherwise I might never again be able to ask one.
“You are uneasy about being a changeling, I can understand as there is a great many differences between your present self and that of a Boer doe. I am sure by then in say ten years time you will slip the bonds of humanity with ease!” Miss Smyth said, sounding to me as something terrible, me feeling anxious, heard her breathing, felt it on my face, as just then Dale barked and turned her attention from me toward him.
That was when I felt the power and ability to ask my question, as I then asked, wondering if she would allow me to change slowly, letting me relish as I felt my body changing.
She failed to reply but a minute later my feet began to ache, and trying to feel of them I realized my arms were legs and my hand were cloven hoofs. A trying to wiggle my toes returned to me as a feeling of hard and dull hoofs.
My changing swept upward, as the neck finished lengthening, my head aching from being reduced to a small Nubian goat size head. I wanted to scream, but bleated like the goat.
Then it began, my lower abdomen was changing, I was growing a womb, a vagina, labia lips or a vulva, the sensations so rank I began to cry, scream, bleat, and thrash around there as Dale barked and watched.
My vision returned but with marked differences, as odd was my rectangular pupil and fixed focus eyes. I peering over a furry chest to a barreled belly, seeing fore legs and hind legs, hooves, and for some unknown reasoning, the more I gawked at the new me, the more I felt the want for a buck to mount and hump-thrust me silly.
Moaning of sexual sensations, my mind had then visions of bucks with long pencil thin cock, they red, but with huge furry balls would shoot inside me pints, gallons of their semen.
My butt ached for feeling then a mating. I stood up on shaky skinny legs, as heard Miss Smyth say, “Go on he was your friend, help her out!”
That said, and Dale, Benson the large Airedale a dog leaped over my backside and in a spearing ram, he stuffed his fat doggy cock in as down along my new vagina and began thrusting.
I felt my vulva pucker; it was oiled by my fluids, urging me to be as ready and quite willing to accept a mate.
It all worked together as from my changing legs came a wave of bestial lust sensation. Screaming a wild bleating cry what was born a male human had by choice become that night a horny doe goat.
My pelvis began to ache as some inside of me was growing and adding the necessary structure.
Miss Smyth began to push Dale deeper, not that he could as I felt his cock tip bottom out. The feminine sensation was even more of an attraction. Dale acting as my first affectionate male came with a touch of mating skill what bade me to enjoying the strange delight of changing from human to a goat.
Later, come the early morning sunrise found me grazing, my mouth gulped down food and with a multitude of thrill still seeping out my vagina, all rational thoughts began to fade.
When rays of golden sunshine glint into my eyes, I blinked and then shut them, as my chewing stopped, and I stood there moving tail. I did a regurgitating and had a mouthful to chew my cud, it sickened me to chew on green puke.
Miss Smyth came out to the pasture mid-morning, and began smoothing her hands over my body as if petting, but was checking to be sure I was fully transformed. I liked the petting, and her smoothly touch to my udder. She tweaked at my teats and that too felt oh so nice.
I was then in my mind a doe goat aand life as body felt perfectly fine.
Miss Smyth spoke softly, reassuring in a way, wanting to show me some affection. She told me I would now grow, gain bulk, maturing some but she would let the bucks come in a week from then to mate.
Her words I understood but had no way to reply other than bleat. The thought of being bred as a goat thrilled me, and I shivered all over at the thought, as this made Miss Smyth to laugh.
Days as a goat grazing became long and dreary. I had just me to try and find some enjoyment or sensuality in a changed body. When after having to wait a week of time the big buck entered the pasture, I was so damn horny I ran to meet him, turned ass end to him and spread my hind legs.
He was not a Nubian, he was bigger. His cock had some meat to it and the length thrilled beyond words.
As during this mayhem of goat sex what began and continued, I relished the sensations, though my mate stunk like urine.
I thought nothing of my past life, of friends, parents, pals, none of that mattered. I longed for the sensation of getting bred, of sniffing and being sniffed or long tongues licking, probing, and arousing a doe goat to wild heights of sexual frustration. The bucks liked to taste of my doe juices, drinking in my scent, any a buck young or old, large or thin, their mounting made my longing to seek a greater personal gratification out of life.
The mating ritual removed my every thought of being me, as if I would want anything but to be a doe goat, and live as doe.
Time passed, and I moved off to a new farm. As then weeks became months what turned to years as my beastly body and self gained in mass, growing, being Nubian I became a Boer goat doe and felt worse pressure from impassioned drives.
Then one fine cold day who should I see but Alan, James, and Carl, they with Miss Smyth came to pay me a visit.
My seeing of long lost friends aided to reminding me of everything I was once, as had and did, I gave up to live as would a crude beast.
The offered report of my parents having died in a natural gas explosion that rocked the neighborhood, engulfing my home, reminded Miss Smyth the witch of her promise to ask of me if being a doe goat was what I wished to remain, or would give up to be again human.
Three friends told of their exploits, Carl of becoming human retained his donkey genitals, and used them making Hollywood video shorts. Alan and James saw what Carl gained and they approached Miss Smyth and worked for her by being changed into pony stallions used for stud.
As I looked at my friends none had aged a day, although returning to their human selves were taunted by memories of some fun years being stallions, used for stud. Their years of beastly ways prevailed upon their desires, making it tough to rejoin humanity.
Tyler never returned to his human form but when asked if he/she liked being a jennet donkey, she brayed and nodded her head as to affirm he wished to be a she donkey, forever!
Oddly enough, I too felt the same as did Tyler, but from the delight of being a doe goat.
Yes, the thought of staying seems best, the parents dead, no other family, my family, kids, does, and bucks were something other, from a different lifestyle, the new offer had me wondering about asking for some years more that I become stout big buck. The possibilities are endless as if every fiber of my being wished to taunt me. Awake or asleep my mind’s eye fills form memories of delight in knowing what I am and find it as a delight. I cannot stop peering through fences, dreaming of what was, and what I wish so often would be me.